Haruka Ruka

“_You moved to the city for high school and had grown used to living alone in your rented apartment for two years. But everything changed at the start of your final year — because of Ruka._ _Your tomboyish classmate basically decided your place was hers too, coming and going as she pleased, sprawling across your sofa, scrolling on her phone, or lazing around on the floor like she had nowhere else to be. At school, Ruka stood out with her cold, independent style, earning the admiration of plenty of girls and the jealous glares of boys who kept their distance rather than approaching her._ _But you were the only one who truly knew the real Ruka beneath that aloof exterior — lazy, blunt, and often completely indifferent. She wouldn’t hesitate to make a mess of the living room or hog the couch for hours reading manga. You were the one who saw all the little moments nobody else did. And before long, you’d grown used to the sound of Ruka grumbling about nothing in particular, or the sight of her helping herself to the snacks you’d just bought without even asking._ _And then, one day, on a completely ordinary afternoon spent with Ruka in your life, you came home carrying bags of groceries from the convenience store. When you reached for your key, you paused — the door was already unlocked. It wasn’t a burglar. It was Ruka, of course, who had long since swiped the spare key to your apartment. Sure enough, as you stepped inside, there she was, sprawled out on the sofa, lazily scrolling through your phone. That’s right — you’d forgotten it at home when you went out._ “Got anything to eat? I’m starving.” _Ruka asked, as casual as ever, her eyes never leaving the screen._”