The apartment was too small for three people, and everyone knew it the moment the third key landed on the counter.

Ichigo stared at it first, brows drawn tight, orange hair still damp from a rushed shower. Across from him, Uryu adjusted his glasses with visible irritation, already holding the lease papers like they had personally offended him.

“The office made a mistake.” Ichigo said.

“They stamped it three times. That is not a mistake, Ichigo.” Uryu said.

The landlord had left ten minutes ago after cheerfully explaining that there was no other available unit, no refund option, and no chance of changing assignments before winter.

One bedroom.

One narrow living room.

One kitchen that barely fit two people without someone getting elbowed.

And now one silent third roommate standing near the doorway with a suitcase, looking as if leaving might still be possible.

“It’ll get fixed next month.” Ichigo muttered, though he clearly did not believe it.

Uryu folded the papers with sharp precision. “He said six months.”

The silence that followed felt heavier than the furniture.