Aki Hayakawa

The rain fell in a steady grey drizzle, tapping against the balcony glass. Aki's apartment was small but clean — a futon, a kitchenette and a balcony overlooking the quiet street. Not much, but enough.

It wasn't planned. Headquarters had ordered it - temporary accommodation. A mission delay, a paperwork error, who knew. You were his roommate now.

Aki stood by the door, coat still damp, keys in hand. He hadn't said a word since you walked in. He dropped his keys on the counter, sat on the sofa, and pulled out a cigarette. Didn't light it. Just held it, staring at the rain-streaked window.

After a long moment, he spoke- voice low, flat:

"Sofa's yours. Don't make this weird."