Breakfast

Akio awoke to an unfamiliar sound: nothing at all. For a blissful moment, the apartment was quiet. Sunlight crept through the curtains on a Saturday morning, and he found himself alone in the kitchen with his thoughts, no chaos in sight.

It had been three days since the infamous circus-meets-IT-department party, and for the first time in recent memory, Akio’s world was calm.

If he was very lucky, Amaya might sleep until noon and he could have a normal morning: newspaper, tea, and no flying objects or spontaneous acrobatics before breakfast.

He tiptoed around, determined not to wake the resident menace. The kettle’s whistle was muffled with a quick hand, the cupboard opened with utmost care. Akio sat at the small dining table, steam curling from his cup, and allowed himself to breathe.

The memory of Amaya’s late-night confessions still lingered in the back of his mind. Her whispered “It’s kind of weird, you know? Going home.” and the tremble in her voice as she talked about never unpacking her bags. He hadn’t dared bring it up since.

Truthfully, he wasn’t sure how to act about it. Was he supposed to pretend nothing happened? Offer some kind of sage life advice? (Not that she’d listen). Instead, he’d settled for making extra rice in case she wanted breakfast. That, he reasoned, was more than enough effort for a roommate-from-hell situation.

Just as Akio started to believe he might actually have a quiet morning, his hopes were promptly dashed. A loud thud came from Amaya’s room, followed by a dramatic groan. Akio closed his eyes, sipping his tea. So much for silence.

Within seconds, Amaya emerged in the hallway, half-asleep. Her hair stuck out in gravity-defying tufts, and she only had one sock on.

She yawned loudly as she shuffled toward the kitchen, nearly tripping over a bag lying by her door. Akio’s brow twitched. Why was that still there? Her giant duffel bag had been sitting, wide open and still full of clothes, in the exact spot she’d dropped it the day she moved in.

Clean laundry, crumpled costumes, random souvenirs, everything was jumbled together in that portable black hole. She hadn’t unpacked a thing. It was both a mystery and a travesty to his orderly mind.

“Mornin’,” Amaya mumbled, rubbing her eyes. She paused by the suitcase, giving it a little kick to shove it aside so she could pass. A snake’s nest of stockings spilled out in the process. Akio watched this routine with disapproval.

“You know,” he said, trying for casual and landing on exasperated, “the closet does exist. As does the dresser. Both of which are empty. Completely empty, because someone still hasn’t unpacked.” He gestured with his teacup in the general direction of her room.

Amaya blinked at him, her face scrunching up in a confused pout. Clearly, her brain had not caught up to full consciousness. “Huh?” She followed his glance back to the hulking bag and shrugged. “Oh, that. It’s fine where it is.”

“It’s in the way,” Akio pointed out, unable to help himself. “And you can’t live out of bags forever.”

She padded into the kitchen and hopped onto one of the bar stools, ignoring his lecture entirely. “Do we have coffee?” she asked, propping her chin in her hands.

Akio inhaled slowly, mentally reciting a patience mantra he often used at work. She’s not a morning person, he reminded himself. Pick your battles. 

Wordlessly, he stood and retrieved the coffee press. He usually didn’t share his precious beans, especially not the expensive blend he treated himself to on weekends, but Amaya’s half-puppy, half-zombie expression compelled him. As he started boiling water, he cast another pointed look at the ever-present bag. “You’re never going to unpack, are you?” he muttered, more to himself than her.

Amaya stretched her arms above her head. “Nope. What’s the point?” she said through another yawn. “Easier to just grab what I need. I’ll have to pack it all up again eventually, so…” She trailed off, eyes flickering away.

Akio frowned at the back of her head. Eventually she’d pack up and leave Tokyo, leave this apartment… leave him. Not that her leaving was a bad thing, he assured himself hurriedly. He’d reclaim his sanity, finally live in a peaceful home with no unexpected reptiles or fire or glitter bombs. It would be great. Perfect, even. Right?

“Still,” he said quietly, pouring hot water over the coffee grounds. “A year is a long time to live out of a suitcase. You might be more comfortable if you… settled in a little.” The words came out stiff, like he wasn’t sure he should be saying them at all.

Amaya tilted her head, studying him with hazy curiosity. For a second, Akio wondered if she remembered confiding in him during the piggyback ride home, the fears she’d let slip about staying put. Her face revealed nothing but morning fog. “Maybe,” she conceded softly, surprising him. Then, just as quickly, her lips twitched into a cheeky grin. “But think of how efficient it is! Instant packing. I’m always ready to flee the country at a moment’s notice.”

Akio rolled his eyes, handing her a mug of fresh coffee. “Comforting,” he deadpanned. “I feel very secure knowing my roommate has a go-bag ready for when the FBI finally catches up to her.”

She snickered, wrapping her hands around the warm mug. “Who says they’ll catch me? I’m excellent at escape acts.” With a wave of her free hand, she declared, “The Amazing Amaya: vanishing from awkward situations since 2003.”

Despite himself, Akio’s lips quirked. “Is that the year you were born, or the number of outstanding arrest warrants you have?” he asked dryly.

Amaya gasped in mock offense. “I’ll have you know, I am a law-abiding citizen… mostly.” She blew on her coffee, then added under her breath, “I mean, tax evasion isn’t a real crime, right?”

He nearly choked on his tea. “Please tell me you’re joking.”

She gave a mischievous shrug, eyes dancing over the rim of her mug. Akio shook his head. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer.

They lapsed into a comfortable silence as they sipped their morning drinks. The earlier tension about unpacking ebbed away. In its place was a gentle quiet, save for the clink of Akio’s spoon as he stirred another sugar into Amaya’s cup (she’d pouted until he added at least two).

The scene was almost domestic. Pleasant, even. Akio caught himself before he could fully acknowledge that fact. If he admitted it felt nice, sitting here, sharing a quiet morning with someone, he’d also have to admit that someone was Amaya. And that opened the door to all sorts of trouble.

“Thanks for the coffee,” Amaya said eventually, her voice more awake now. She offered him a small smile, the genuine kind without any sass. It made Akio suddenly very interested in staring at his tea. There’s that sincerity, he thought, feeling oddly warm.

He cleared his throat. “Those were my good beans. Don’t get used to it,” he grumbled for good measure. A classic Akio deflection, gruff on the outside, while his cheeks warmed just a touch on the inside. He hoped she didn’t notice that last part.

Amaya just hopped off the stool and stretched again, this time arching her back like a content cat. Her oversized T-shirt, emblazoned with a faded “Cirque du Séduisant 2018 World Tour” logo, rode up slightly as she moved. Akio promptly looked anywhere but at her exposed midriff, cursing himself. It was far too early to be flustered. He busied himself with collecting stray crumbs from the counter, pretending they were the most important thing in the room.

“I’m gonna shower,” she announced, oblivious to his sudden fixation on crumbs. “Gotta wake up properly.” She headed toward the bathroom, then paused and gave him a sly look over her shoulder. “Try not to miss me too much while I’m gone, ‘kay?”

Akio responded by lifting her abandoned sock off the floor and tossing it at her. She caught it effortlessly, laughing as she disappeared into the bathroom. The door closed, and a moment later he heard water running and a very off-key humming of some tune (was that… an anime theme song? Good grief, she really had no volume control even in the shower).

He allowed himself a quiet chuckle once alone. So far, this morning had been, dare he say, pleasantly normal, by their standards. But, it was only 9 AM. Plenty of time yet for chaos to unfold.