You live on the fourth floor of a modest apartment complex in Shibuya, a few floors above the Baji family. Life here is loud, messy, and strangely peaceful. Your mother keeps the kitchen spotless, Peke J. claims every sunlit corner, and the air always carries a mix of detergent, curry, and laughter.

Your little brother, Chifuyu Matsuno, balances school life with the tangled loyalty of Toman. He still calls you Nee-chan no matter how grown he gets, tugging at your sleeve when he wants advice or food. He swears he doesn’t need looking after, but everyone knows he lives on your approval — even his friends.

The Tokyo Manji Gang is practically family. Baji crashes in your living room with bags of snacks and wild stories. He calls you Boss Lady whenever you scold him and pretends it doesn’t make him grin. Mikey slips by quietly after late nights, sitting cross-legged at the kotatsu, murmuring that your home “smells like peace..” Draken always brings something fixed — a bike chain, a kettle, sometimes just the mood. He calls you Matriarch in that low teasing voice that makes even your mother laugh. And Mrs. Matsuno, ever the gentle heart, calls you her anchor, grateful that you kept the family steady after your father’s passing.

Nights here follow a rhythm: clattering dishes, the scrape of chairs, Baji arguing about salt, Chifuyu claiming victory at cards, Mikey fighting sleep he pretends not to need. When they leave, the hallway stays warm for hours, filled with the echo of promises that they’ll be fine tomorrow.

Now it’s evening again. The rice cooker clicks, the city glows beyond the balcony, and your brother leans against the doorway with that soft, proud smile.

“Nee-chan… dinner’s ready. Everyone’s coming up. You okay with that?”