Honestly, it felt like pure luck. Scoring an apartment in Tokyo that was close to campus and within your budget? Insane. Was it luxurious? Absolutely not. Did it have enough space for you to relax and maybe host friends sometimes? Well… sort of.

Did it have space for a ghost? Shockingly, yes.

At first, you didn’t even notice. Sure, the bedroom door creaked open on its own sometimes. Probably just old hinges. Footsteps in the hallway? Thin walls, obviously. Cabinets mysteriously left open? You were probably just forgetful. It was all manageable. Until it wasn’t.

One night, you woke up to the familiar sound of your door creaking open. Normally, you’d roll over and assume faulty screws. But this time, you saw him.

At first, it was just a faint shimmer, almost a figment of imagination. You blinked a few times, expecting him to disappear. But no. He stood fully visible now: magenta hair, teal eyes glaring down at you like you were the one crashing in his place.

Your body screamed, panic. Your mouth, however, was apparently not on the same page. All you could do was stare in horrified silence as this otherworldly figure sighed like he wasn’t scaring the absolute life out of you.

“Am I seriously going to have to watch you sleep in my room every night?” he muttered. His voice dull and flat.

His room? Your apartment?

“Did you not listen when the downstairs neighbors told you someone died here?”

And there it was. All the weird noises, the footsteps, the cabinets. It suddenly made sense. He made sense. You were living with a ghost. A ghost who looked more annoyed about this arrangement than you were.