(put your BRAIN storage here)
(This story is entirely fictional, and all characters are already adults.)
Tokyo, Arakawa Ward
"Swoosh!"
In a 24-hour convenience store, a young man pushed a small cart loaded with unopened boxes into the stockroom. Ignoring the beads of sweat gathering on his forehead, he adjusted his black baseball cap, clutching the inventory list in one hand as he checked the towering stacks of merchandise.
Dressed in a drab olive-green store uniform, he exuded an unassuming air. His face, youthful and slightly naive, peeked out from beneath the cap. He stood about 174 cm tall, with narrow shoulders that hinted at frailty. Yet, his pale, delicate features carried an understated charm, embodying the essence of youth.
"You've worked hard, Fujii-kun."
The voice of the store manager, Yuriko Matsumoto, a woman in her late thirties, interrupted him. She had appeared unnoticed, holding out a bottle of soda. Her gaze toward Fujii Shu was filled with appreciation.
"It's nothing," Shu replied politely, using his arm to wipe away the sweat threatening to drip into his eyes. Accepting the soda, he twisted off the cap and gulped down several mouthfuls.
It was September, and summer's lingering heat still clung to Tokyo with oppressive fervor.
"Slow down, Fujii-kun…" Yuriko smiled warmly. Her eyes traced the path of the soda dripping from Shu's lips, following the rivulets of sweat gliding down his smooth neck, over his collarbone, and soaking into his dark green shirt. Her gaze lingered, inching downward.
Lightly licking her dry lips, she asked with a smile, "Fujii-kun, you're still in school, aren't you?"
"Yes, a junior college," Shu answered, lifting his cap to let the heat escape.
"That's impressive—so capable you don't seem like a student at all!" Yuriko praised, her eyes fixed on his boyish, handsome face.
"But shouldn't a college student focus on studying? Why take on a part-time job?"
"Well, it's just…" Shu hesitated, his tone trailing off. "Just family stuff."
His expression turned helpless.
Sensing his reluctance, Yuriko tactfully dropped the subject.
It wasn't hard to guess—either financial hardship requiring him to work or family discord forcing him to fend for himself.
Whatever the case, one thing was clear: the boy standing before her needed this job.
"Ah, I see," she murmured thoughtfully.
"This is your salary for the month." Yuriko pulled a neatly sealed envelope from her pocket and handed it to him.
"Keep working here without worry, Fujii-kun."
"Thank you, Manager Matsumoto!" Shu bowed slightly, accepting the envelope with genuine gratitude.
"By the way, the inventory has been checked. Everything matches," he said, holding out the completed list before gesturing to the piles of goods in the corner. "If there's nothing else, I'll get back to work."
"Go ahead, Fujii-kun. Thanks for your hard work today," Yuriko replied, hands resting lightly on her hips. Her fitted black pencil skirt revealed toned, fair legs, and her well-maintained curves defied her age. At 37, she could easily pass for a fresh graduate.
Watching Shu's retreating figure, Yuriko turned back toward the stockroom, casting a knowing glance at the piled goods.
................................
Evening: End of Shift
"Ding-dong!"
The store's glass door chimed as Shu, now in his school uniform, stepped out into the streets of Higashi-Ogu.
"Eighty thousand yen."
Walking along the dimly lit street, Shu opened the envelope and counted the cash—eight crisp Fukuzawa Yukichi bills (Japan's 10,000-yen notes). Roughly 4,000 RMB for a month of backbreaking work.
"Ugh…" Shu sighed.
As a part-timer, his pay was worlds apart from full-time employees. Add to that Japan's strict student work regulations—no more than 28 hours per week, with shifts ending by 10 PM.
Eighty thousand yen would have to suffice.
Enough for an ordinary student's living expenses.
Sighing again, Shu tucked the cash back into the envelope, pocketed it, and headed for the nearest tram station to board the Toden Arakawa Line toward Minami-Senju.
Fujii Shu, 18 years old, a transmigrant.
He had been in this world for just over a month.
One moment, he was asleep; the next, he awoke to find himself in Tokyo's Arakawa Ward as a completely ordinary college student. A timid personality, average grades, and a chaotic home life.
His mother had passed away early, and his father was involved with a widow who had two daughters of her own. Before they could marry, his father died in a drunk-driving accident, leaving behind a will that entrusted Shu and the family's assets to this unfamiliar woman.
After the funeral, the Fujii household became the domain of the widow and her daughters. Shu, the sole surviving blood relative, was relegated to the role of an outsider, enduring life in quiet submission.
Adapting to this foreign world hadn't been easy. Shu had spent weeks adjusting to his new reality as a destined part-timer with a streak of bad luck.
..........................
Arriving at Minami-Senju Station, Shu exited and walked ten minutes to a two-story building.
The Fujii residence was a typical ikkodate, a standalone home in traditional Japanese style, complete with a small yard and a garage on the first floor. Like something straight out of Crayon Shin-chan or Doraemon.
Crossing the gate marked "Fujii," Shu glanced at the garage—empty. His aunt must still be at work.
Unlocking the door, he swapped his shoes for indoor slippers at the entrance, ignoring the girl lounging on the sofa in the living room. He quickly ascended the stairs to his bedroom.
Once inside, Shu tossed his paycheck onto the pillow and collapsed onto the bed, exhaustion washing over him.
"Click-clack."
The doorknob turned, and a petite girl stepped in.
Shimizu Airi, one of his aunt's daughters. The same girl who had been watching TV downstairs.
Eighteen years old, Airi was petite and graceful, her fresh face brimming with youthful charm. Dressed in a pink blouse and denim shorts, her fair, smooth skin seemed to glow. Two ponytails bobbed playfully behind her head, adding to her mischievous appearance.
But Shu knew better. Beneath that adorable exterior lurked a devilish streak.
"Nii-san, you're back!"
"Oh, and it's payday, isn't it?"
Airi's bright smile quickly gave way to a sly grin. Holding out her hand, she demanded in a tone that brooked no argument:
"Hand it over. This month's salary!"