The Haunted Apartment

Hosonuma Akio climbed the stairs two at a time, his briefcase swinging at his side, feeling heavier than it actually was. Maybe it was the exhaustion from the long bus ride. Maybe it was the fact that, for the first time since college, he wasn’t going to sleep in a familiar bed, or maybe it was because he was in Tokyo when he never wanted to be.

When his boss told him he’d be transferring from Uji—the city he grew up in, the city he knew down to the precise timing of its traffic lights—he had nodded like a good employee. Not because he was excited, not because he thought it was a good idea, but because his boss called it an “opportunity,” and the right thing to do with an opportunity was to take it.

Even when you knew, deep down, that opportunity was just corporate-speak for “we need a warm body in Tokyo, and yours is available”.

It wasn’t a promotion. It wasn’t even a step forward. It was a step sideways, a detour on a road he wasn’t even sure led anywhere.

He was twenty-four, and twenty-four-year-olds were supposed to be overworked, underpaid, and fuelled almost exclusively by caffeine and cup noodles. That was the trade-off. You gave away your youth in neat eight-hour increments (that inevitably stretched to twelve), and in return, you got the vague promise of stability somewhere down the line. Work hard now, retire comfortably later. That was the plan.

And on the bright side, he’d at least be saving money on rent in Tokyo. His company had an agreement with a real estate agency that provided employees with “affordable” housing, which, in corporate-speak, meant it was small and just close enough to the office to make it impossible to be late without feeling guilty about it.

He reached the final flight of stairs, slightly out of breath, and stopped in front of Apartment 5B.

His new home.

The landlord had given him a key. But the door, oddly enough, was slightly ajar. Like someone had stepped out and forgotten to shut it all the way.

Or like someone was still inside.

Akio glanced at the number on the door. Then at the key in his palm. 5B. This was the right apartment.

Frowning, he pushed the door open.

“Hello? Is someone—”

The words died in his throat.

Because inside, something was floating midair.

At first, he tried to make sense of it. A yokai? A spirit? A demon? But no, that was ridiculous.

He had to remind himself that he didn’t believe in ghosts or monsters. This had to be his mind playing tricks, the result of too little sleep and too much stress.

Still, his heart kicked against his ribs as he slipped off his loafers and stepped forward. Logic was great and all, but it wasn’t doing much to convince his body that he wasn’t currently witnessing a supernatural event.

The creature snapped its head back. Long white hair, streaked with pink, spilled downward. Akio gasped, his fingers went slack, and his suitcase hit the floor.

He locked eyes with the creature. They were bright, green and made him think of Kyoto in the rainy season, moss growing thick between temple stones.

And that was when he realized.

She wasn’t floating.

She was hanging.

Her back bent at a painful angle that no human spine should attempt, and her body wrapped in ghostly white silk ribbons tied to a ceiling beam.

Not a demon. A person.

A very upside-down, very human person.

She yanked herself up, twisted, and dropped.

Akio’s heart slammed in his chest. He braced for impact, for the sickening sound of bones breaking, for the very real possibility that his apartment was about to become a crime scene.

But she caught herself. She flipped, righted herself, and kicked free of the silks, landing light on her feet. She casually picked up her phone from the floor and tapped the screen to pause the music playing in her wireless earbuds.

For a moment, he just stared. She was taller than he expected, slender and lean. Her white leotard clung to her skin, revealing the curve of her collarbone dusted with tiny, little freckles.

Her legs were wrapped in chunky, slouched legwarmers, stopping halfway to her knobby knees and leaving her bare thighs exposed to the cool air of the AC. Not that Akio could focus on the temperature, because suddenly, his face felt unreasonably warm.

He opened his mouth, grasping for words, for something sensible to say, but his brain was still about three steps behind reality.

So, all that came out was:

“Who the hell are you?”

For a second, he wasn’t even sure if she understood Japanese. But then she flashed a bright smile and said, “I’m Amaya, nice to meet you.”

Akio stared at her, waiting for the part where she explained why she was in his apartment, hanging from his ceiling.

However, she just stood there. Eyes narrowed slightly, head cocked to the side, watching him like he was the strange one in this situation.

Now that he got a closer look at her, he realised something else. She was beautiful. A softly rounded nose with a gentle slope, cherry blossom pink lips, and a smudge of silver glitter under her eyes. She looked almost elf-like, like she escaped from a fairy tale or a fantasy game.

“You—you’re in my apartment,” he finally managed.

She blinked. “Pretty sure it’s mine.”

Akio exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through his hair. “No. I was assigned this apartment.”

“Same.”

“That’s not possible.”

Amaya squinted at him like she was trying to decide whether he was messing with her. She then crouched down and started rummaging through her duffle bag. Akio watched as she shoved aside balled-up clothes, snack wrappers and an open, half-eaten bag of marshmallows.

Loose papers crinkled under her hands as she pulled out a crumpled paper from underneath a sweatshirt, smoothed it against her knee, and then smugly turned it towards him.

Tenant Agreement: Amaya van der Windt. Apartment 5B.

Akio's stomach sank. He opened his suitcase and pulled out his own paperwork. A crisp, official-looking document from his company. He flipped to the right page without even having to look and held it up next to hers.

Tenant Agreement: Hosonuma Akio. Apartment 5B.

They stared at the matching contracts. Then at each other. Akio’s eyes were burning with frustration and irritation while hers were amused.

“Looks like we’re roommates,” she announced gleefully, while twirling around.

Akio was very much not okay with that conclusion.

“Absolutely not,” he blurted. “This—this is a mistake. You need to move out. I’ll talk to HR about this.”

She folded her arms. “Yeah, good luck with that.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“The Circus booked this for me months ago. No way they’re just gonna kick me out.”

He bristled. “My company also arranged this, and I actually work in Tokyo, so—”

“And I’m here for a year-long training program,” she said, balancing on one leg with one foot placed against her inner thigh in a yoga pose. “Which means I also work here.”

She planted her hands on her hips, looking awfully proud of herself.

He didn’t understand her. By all logic, any normal person being told they had to share a roof with a complete stranger of the opposite sex would at the very least be mildly concerned, maybe irritated, probably outraged.

But no, Amaya was doing happy little twirls and yoga poses.

Akio dropped his head into his hands. “Why,” he said slowly, voice muffled against his palms, “are you not freaking out?”

Amaya blinked at him, genuinely confused. “Because it’s not a big deal.” She said simply, moving her hands together and stretching them over her head.

He lifted his head, stared at her, and tried very, very hard to process that statement.

Not a big deal?

Akio’s entire life was built on careful planning. This was not part of the plan, which meant, to him, it was a very big deal.

She shrugged, shifting her weight to her other foot. “I grew up in a circus. I’ve slept in trailers that leaked when it rained, in a supply closet on a yacht because they overbooked the guest rooms, in a hammock outside because there were no beds left.” She moved her hands back to her hips. “This doesn’t seem that bad at all, actually.”

She flashed him a wide grin, and—God help him—her left eye squinted a little when she smiled, and it was so damn cute. He immediately tried to pretend that he hadn’t noticed.

“Just— Just stay out of my way,” he muttered, dragging a hand through his hair again. “I don’t have the mental capacity to deal with this right now.”

“Whatever you say, Akio.” She sang.

Taken aback at being addressed so casually by a stranger, he scoffed, colour rushing to his face.

He grabbed his suitcase to retreat to the nearest bedroom.

“Oh, by the way,” she called after him. “I call dibs on the room with the highest ceiling!”

Akio ignored her strange request. He made it to his new bedroom, dropped his suitcase and collapsed face-first onto the mattress with great regret.

He groaned into the sheets.

He was exhausted. His back ached from the long bus ride, his brain ached from the stress of starting at a new branch, and now on top of all that, he had to deal with an unexpected (admittedly gorgeous) roommate.

He shoved his pillow over his face.

Try as he might, he couldn’t stop thinking about the elfish girl in the living room, probably dangling upside down from the ceiling with a stupid smile on her face.

She was, inarguably, the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. And yet, he’s never wanted someone out of his life more.

He had a plan. A good, solid, responsible plan. A linear, step-by-step path to a respectable career and a stable life. That plan did not include living with a circus freak.

There was only one solution.

One of them had to go.