Am I The Only Male Tenant Here?

Evening fell on Tokyo with the soft glow of spring, the golden hour casting long shadows over sidewalks scattered with drifting sakura petals. The warm wind carried hints of flowers and fragrant rain.

I stepped out of the apartment with a mission: don't arrive empty-handed for dinner. It's my first meal with my apartment manager, and I was raised with manners. As a man of culture, I am aware that showing up empty-handed is akin to forgetting one's pants.

In short, a personal failure.

You don't mooch without an offering—especially not when your host is a bombshell in her forties.

What do I bring, though?

Luckily, I remembered seeing a wagashi shop nearby when I first arrived. My village sometimes received confectioneries as gifts from the tourists at nearby lodges, so I knew how delectable they could be.

Most wagashi shops doubled as stands at roadside temples and shrines, where anyone could buy for reasonable prices—around ¥1000 for 11 types. There were red bean jellies and soft mochi, along with sweeter rice flour or chestnut cake topped with chocolate frosting. There were all manner of savory, nutty, or mild delicacies that wouldn't be overwhelmedwith the introduction of spices, unlike your local convenience store snacks.

Bingo.

I could already imagine walking in and seeing Tomoko's big brown eyes go wide in surprise and delight, and something tingled inside my chest.

Smiling with delight, I entered the shop, which was tucked behind a vending machine and half a noodle shop, and was an old-fashioned confectionery store that looked like it had survived three eras and a kaiju attack.

As I had suspected, the vast majority of its souvenirs and sweets were sold on the front, but in the very back was a glass refrigerated case crammed with cakes, fresh crepes, and other goodies.

I was surrounded by colorful eye candy and smelled the exotic scents wafting from them. What was a guy like me to do? Maybe I could get Tomoko to choose for me. That way, she'd feel involved and wouldn't feel like I didn't trust her opinion.

So, I took out my phone.

From: me, To: Matsumoto-san: How do you feel about strawberries?

A little while passed before a response came back. The dots whirling left and right were agonizing.

Finally, a text.

Tomoko seemed like the type who spoke her mind and left no room for misunderstanding. Relief loosened my stiff fingers, but something on the tip of my tongue still bothered me. There was something… I couldn't place it. Was the decision too quick? Did something seem weird? Was my heart not truly in it?

The thoughts swirled in my head, knotting themselves until the phone vibrated again.

From: Matsumoto-san,

That was the last push. A wave of tranquility washed over me. As long as there wasn't a cake or snack that she really disliked, it didn't matter what I picked out.

So, I picked out a small box of delicate, strawberry sweets with fluffy cake for the filling.

The middle-aged shopkeeper eyed my appearance with a critical stare as I held the box under the register. What kind of expression did I have to be getting this sort of suspicion from someone in a food industry job? Sheesh. At least let me give you money in peace.

Well, I didn't have the guts to open my mouth and tell her I had good intentions, so I would simply pretend not to know Japanese. That made the most sense. She was wearing a nametag that read "Oji-san," after all, but she had a pretty,feminine figure underneath that kimono. Although she did wrap it like it was a treasure, adding a ribbon that made it feel almost like a love confession.

With the purchase completed, I thanked her and walked back outside, then started toward the apartment. I tried to rehearse how to present the box, looking at the pale crescent moon and the sky so orange it was bleeding. A beautiful sky. A welcoming night. A sweet scent.

6:03 p.m.

I knocked twice at Room 101.

"Good evening, Matsumoto-san," I said as Tomoko swung the door open. "Let me set these down... here..."

My breath caught in my throat. Tomoko had changed from her crisp jeans and white blouse; she now wore a loose, white nightgown held together by the soft knot of a sky-blue apron with floral designs. The neckline dipped low. Very low. The gown's fabric was light enough that the lace of her bra was completely visible beneath, forming a little window directly above the borderline illegal depths of that cleavage, making this a little more obscene than a bikini.

Her legs, bare to mid-thigh, were round and smooth. The curve of her bust bounced just slightly when she smiled and nodded at me. Her figure wasn't the sleek supermodel kind or the round Marilyn kind, but had a pleasant heaviness to it that had made her late-night talk show guest list a few times.

The tension suddenly drained out of me, and I found myself sagging to the floor. With a smile so soft it could disarm a terrorist and the plump lips of a gravure model, Tomoko seemed to exude something bewitching from the back of her throat, spilling onto the floor and leaving traces of her touch wherever she went.

What have I unleashed upon myself?

"Hey there, you... look beautiful." My voice cracked and sounded like I was going through a late teenage transition. This was hopeless. And what the hell, did women just give up on their dresses on nights of the full moon or something?

"Oh, Ginjo-kun, thanks," she giggled. "You are so considerate, saying something like that. Now, come in. Dinner will be ready soon."

I handed the sweets to her and she accepted them with a pleased grin that curled at the corners of her lips.

I blinked. A motherly aura?

No. No, this wasn't the kind of 'motherly' he was familiar with.

This was an "experienced woman who knows you're staring and kind of likes it" aura.

Still, a flood of warmth welled up inside me. Having lost my parents when I was young and growing up with just my grandfather, I had never experienced this sort of mature, gentle domesticity.

"Please take a seat, Ginjo-kun. I'll get you some tea."

I took my sneakers off and stepped inside her apartment. Her living space was a cozy environment with hints of femininity and a homey atmosphere everywhere. On her wall hung a framed picture of a golden retriever. A chibi Tomoko posed adorably with the cute canine companion in a graduation cap and gown. Had Tomoko been the cutest graduate of her year? If so, I wasn't surprised.

I settled on the sofa. The living room was tidy, cozy—a clear reflection of its occupant. It smelled like citrus cleaner and spring soap. There was even a wicker vase sitting on the coffee table overflowing with soft pink cherry blossoms.

Tomoko returned and began preparing some tea. Before long, the rich scent and sweet waft of green tea seeped into my nose. When I didn't try to hide my anticipation, she cracked a smile. She gave a cup to me and leaned over to pour and—

Oh no.

The neckline betrayed her. The apron dipped. Skin. Curves. A full-on visual buffet. I'm not proud to say that no one could stop the blood rushing south. I froze. It was one thing to see the panties of an overly candid summer outfit, and another to fully get the real deal.

But I was a fool.

For without fail, Tomoko followed my gaze. She saw me.

Saw that I saw her.

Ding!

[Target: Matsumoto Tomoko]

[Favorability +1]

[Reward: ¥1000]

[Current Favorability: 72]

"Ginjo-kun, this is green tea which I brewed myself. Try it."

I had to cover my mouth with both hands as a huge smile escaped. My face felt hot, like someone was pressing an electric heater on it.

I took a sip.

It was great. Super fragrant. Delicious, even though I was 600% preoccupied with peeking out of the corner of my eye at a certain aproned someone who had retreated to the kitchen.

I was lost in thought as I moved my legs into a position where Tomoko couldn't see the tent sticking out of my pants.

She came back and asked me with anticipation in her eyes, "How was it? Did you like it?"

In a sudden burst of generosity, I replied, "This is... incredible. Honestly the best green tea I've ever had."

Did she just blush a little? Hell yeah.

She giggled, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "I'm so glad you like it. I'll go get the food."

She turned, and I could swear the back of the apron was even more scandalous. Bare shoulders. A teasing line of her spine.

Soon, she returned with a full tray: oyakodon, vegetable tempura, pickled sides, miso soup—the table was covered with food.

"Wow..."

"Try it, Ginjo-kun.."

I felt something hot in my chest: happiness. So, I clasped my hands. "I humbly receive this meal."

The oyakodon was soft and warm, the chicken tender, the egg silky. Flavors danced on my tongue. It was the taste of home, something I'd never known.

"It's delicious, Mrs. Matsumoto. This is my first time trying Oyakodon." I exclaimed between bites of rice.

"That's great, Ginjo-kun. I heard you came from Hokkaido. I was worried that the food here would make you uncomfortable."

The corners of Matsumoto Tomoko's brows, which were a little nervous just now, naturally relaxed, and there was an indescribable joy on her face.

"You know, Ginjo-kun, watching the food you make being eaten is the greatest happiness for a cook."

"But Matsumoto-san's cooking is so delicious. By the way, you can just call me Sosuke from now on."

Her expression softened.

"Okay, So...Sosuke." Her voice dipped lower.

I smiled. "Then... I'll call you Tomoko-san. "

Her cheeks flushed a charming pink. "I wouldn't mind that."

The soft yellow light from the ceiling lamp reflected off my chiseled features, casting shadows that made me look like a statue carved by a lonely goddess.

Tomoko stared at me for a moment too long.

"Eat more, Sosuke. You're still growing."

I noticed that her bowl was noticeably smaller than mine. She ate slowly, her lips parting delicately with each bite. I had to look away to keep myself from imagining things I really shouldn't.

"You can come eat here anytime you like."

"Really? Then I'll pay for the food."

"No need. It makes me happy. I hate eating alone. Ever since my daughter went to college, I've been by myself. Having you here motivates me."

Her voice dipped again.

"Besides... I may need your help with things. Stuff that's hard for a woman to do."

I blinked. "Like what?"

"Clogged drains. Garden weeds. Changing light bulbs."

"Ah. That kind of thing."

"Of course," she giggled. "What were you thinking?"

I choked on a bite of tempura.

Tomoko's laugh rang like a wind chime.

"Speaking of boys, Sousuke, you are the only male tenant in this apartment building."

Tomoko's words surprised me. Although the apartment was not big, it only had three floors. Including the one where she lived, there were only 9 rooms.

But am I the only male tenant here? Was this a bit of a coincidence?

"Am I the only one?" I asked curiously.

"Yes, the last resident of your room was also a girl, so I'm very happy that your arrival has added a different feeling to the atmosphere of the apartment."

Oh? So that's what she meant when she said about needing help from me.

Hehe!

I am a young, energetic guy, so more physical work is definitely not a problem for me.