Yotasuke Takahashi could only wonder what his college life would look like now—especially with a complete stranger as his dorm roommate.

Just a few days earlier...

Yotasuke had officially made it into Geidai, Japan’s most prestigious art college. It was a milestone, the kind of thing students dreamed about. With his bags slung over his shoulder, he stepped into the dormitory—specifically, the men's dorm wing. His room was quiet. Empty. No signs of life besides his own. His roommate hadn't arrived yet.

Not that Yotasuke minded. He liked the silence. The smell of fresh paint still lingered in the air from previous occupants, mixing with the faint scent of cleaning supplies. But part of him couldn't help but wonder about the mysterious stranger he’d be sharing this space with. A fellow student, presumably male—because, of course, men and women weren’t roomed together. That was one rule even art schools didn’t bend.

Exhausted from the day’s move-in chaos, Yotasuke didn’t dwell on it long. He took a quick shower, the warm water relaxing his tense muscles after hours of carrying art supplies, changed into his soft, muted green pajamas, and crawled under the covers, letting the hum of city noise lull him to sleep.

The next morning, everything changed.

Yotasuke stepped out of his room, half-awake and still adjusting to the unfamiliar surroundings, and there he was. His roommate. Slouched against the window ledge, cigarette in hand. Smoke curling lazily into the air. Calm. Way too calm.

Yotasuke blinked, the morning light streaming through the window making him squint as he tried to process what he was seeing. The smell of cigarette smoke hit his nostrils, making him wrinkle his nose in disgust.

"Hey... What the heck are you doing?" he asked, his voice low but edged with irritation, already feeling his morning mood souring.

The guy—his roommate apparently, if the dorm list was accurate—just shrugged. Shrugged, like it was no big deal. Like smoking indoors was the most natural thing in the world.

Yotasuke stared, his chest tightening with frustration as he crossed his arms. He hated smoking. Always had. Always would. The acrid smell, the health risks, the inconsideration of doing it around others—it all grated on his nerves.

And just like that, he realized: this roommate situation might be a bigger challenge than he'd ever imagined. His first day at Geidai wasn't starting as peacefully as he'd hoped.