Miwa reached for more Pocari Sweat only to discover she had drunk both bottles dry. Shit! She was in the middle of an intense boss battle on her TV screen and now chose to run out of hydration? She waited until it was her move in the turn-based RPG and bolted outside, where the hot August air threatened to choke her and wring the last of the moisture out of her body. Good thing she only had to make a quick trip to the vending machine on the corner of the street to get two more bottles of Pocari Sweat. Before the game could yell at her for taking too long to make a move, she was back in her dark apartment and sitting in front of the oscillating fan. She couldn’t afford to run the air conditioner.

She would rather run her PS4 and the HD TV she saved up for months to buy. Best. Purchase. Ever! Her sweaty fingers slipped across the controller buttons as she selected the moves to take out this obnoxious boss.

This was how a woman best spent her days off. After another hot and stressful week at work, the only thing Miwa cared to do was sit in her beanbag chair and smash buttons. It had become a ritual of sorts. On her last day of work, she would stop by the convenience store in her neighborhood and stock up on drinks and instant food. Maybe she’d splurge and hit up the local McDonald’s, KFC, or Yoshinoya for dinner that night. Anything that made it easier to bring her dinner back and mindlessly eat it while immersing herself in a video game’s world.

“Aw, c’mon.” She pointed an accusatory finger as the boss used a cheap move that wiped out half her party. “You’re cheating!” So what if she was replaying this game on Hard mode? Was the boss supposed to have that many moves at his disposal? Especially the cheap ones!

At least when she lived by herself, nobody was around to call her an otaku. Because that’s what they called her back in her hometown. What kind of average-looking girl was into video games? That was for geeks. Nerds. The ill-spoken of otaku who shut themselves up in their rooms to play nothing but video games and watch idol videos. The only time they socialized was with their families, who shoved food beneath their doors and chastised them on their way out of the house to go to another idol show.

Miwa saw nothing appealing about that life. Video games were her primary hobby, nothing more. A hobby she spent a lot of money on, but wasn’t that true for most people and their hobbies? One of her friends was obsessed with K-pop boy bands and spent all her money on CDs, trading cards, DVDs, and tickets to their Japanese shows. She even took herself to Seoul as a birthday present! Another friend was an artist who dumped her paychecks into art supplies and spent her evenings and weekends dreaming up fantastical landscapes. Why were those hobbies considered less geeky than Miwa preordering the next Final Fantasy game?

Because this is a “guy” thing. Miwa guzzled her third bottle of Pocari Sweat and continued to pride herself on her all-female party taking down the demonic boss. Well, the main character she was forced to play wasn’t female, but she role-played the guy as a very butchy woman in her head. It worked for her, because what guy would call himself Miwappo Bansho?

She almost spat out her drink. Miwappo Bansho. Who knew that terrible nickname the kids in elementary school gave her would one day become her PlayStation handle?

The doorbell rang.

Miwa wasn’t sure she heard that right at first. She wasn’t expecting any deliveries. The NHK collectors and Jehovah Witness recruiters had already been by the day before. Who the hell would come to call on her on such a precious day off as this?

After a few seconds, the doorbell rang again.

“Chotto matte kudasai!” she called, pausing her game and sending her apartment into silence. Miwa leaped up on unsteady feet and stumbled toward the front door in her cluttered, cramped hallway, just past the ancient washing machine and the two-burner stove in her tiny kitchen. She leaned over from the edge of the genkan so she wouldn’t have to take off her house slippers before opening the door.

She should have looked through the peephole. She really, really should have!

“Konnichiwa.” Sayuri Kawashima, dressed in an airy pink sundress and carrying a large straw tote bag, nodded her head in greeting.

Miwa fell into her genkan, her house slippers sliding across the dirty concrete and creating one of the most stellar moral quandaries to ever befall a Japanese woman in her own home.

Normally, she would pretend that hadn’t happened and continue to use her slippers around the house. Maybe brush off the soles first, but who cared if her mother wasn’t around to freak out at her?

But Sayuri was here. She had seen what Miwa did.

“Ara…” Sayuri lost her smile. “Daijyoubu desu ka?”

No. Now I have to buy new slippers. Miwa slowly slid out of her slippers and piled them next to the washing machine. Her only choice was to stand on the edge of the genkan barefoot. Or she could hop into her sneakers, she supposed. Damnit. She should do that, huh?

“I’m okay.” Miwa stuffed her bare feet into her sneakers, the backs pressed beneath her heels. “You surprised me, is all.”

“My apologies.” Sayuri continued to stand in the hot sunlight, sweat glistening on her forehead and pink fingers gripping the strap of her tote bag. “Please excuse me for coming unannounced. I happened to be in the neighborhood, and…” She stopped herself, continuing to smile in self-admonishment. “Usou deshita. I came here from Fujimi because I wanted to properly apologize for all the trouble I put you through last week.”

“Trouble? It wasn’t trouble at all.” Miwa opened her door all the way. She had forgotten how much cooler it was in her apartment than outside. Apparently, closing her blinds and running the fans really did help. “You don’t have to apologize.”

“I really would like to, though. My foolishness and inability to properly take care of myself led to that situation. One that you certainly did not sign up for, Ban-san.” Sayuri lowered her eyes. “I know you were just doing your job at the train station, but there was no reason for you to have to pick me up from the hospital. I feel like such a blundering…”

“Please, stop.” Miwa looked up into Sayuri’s pinkening face. “And please come in before you burn in the sunlight, Kawashima-san.”

“I couldn’t impose.”

“Please. You came all this way.” Couldn’t impose, Miwa’s ass. The woman admitted to coming all the way from Fujimi just to see Miwa. If Miwa didn’t invite her in, she might as well cop to being the rudest woman her mother could’ve raised. First stomping her house slippers into the genkan… then refusing to let such an honored guest into her home… Miwa may not get along well with her mother, but she wouldn’t let that weigh upon the woman’s soul.

Miwa stepped out of the way. Sayuri bowed her head in acknowledgment before slowly entering Miwa’s humble abode. There was no extra pair of slippers for Sayuri. They both walked barefoot down the cramped hallway and into Miwa’s…

God. Damnit. Into Miwa’s messy-ass apartment!

By herself, it was perfectly presentable. With a guest in her shadow, however, Miwa wanted to offer herself as a sacrifice to the gods of cleanliness and retribution.

Not only did the remnants of her mid-binge remain, but Miwa hadn’t cleaned a damn thing up in the past week. Her trash was stuffed with instant ramen bowls, chip bags, and empty pep bottles that should have been sorted into the recycling already. The floor was covered in more empty containers and pieces of her train set that had fallen apart to make room for her video game paraphernalia. Her futon was left out and in complete disarray. And could it smell any mustier in there? Even if it weren’t summer, Miwa could bet that her apartment smelled like bad BO.

God. More evidence that she didn’t have a social life. Especially one that ever followed her home. Maybe I am an otaku. Worse. Maybe she was a hikikomori after all!

“Please pardon the mess.” She couldn’t bear to look Sayuri in the eye. “It’s definitely messier than the last time you were here.” So was Miwa. She stood in a sweaty T-shirt and a pair of pajama shorts. Her perfect summer weekend-at-home clothing.

Kill me. Could this be any more embarrassing? Here Sayuri was, in her effortlessly pretty sundress and with her perfect hair… and Miwa couldn’t look more slovenly if she tried. She was just missing a couple mustard stains on her oversized T-shirt.

“Your apartment is very homey, Ban-san.” How dare Sayuri sound so cheerful? “I can tell that you live here.”

“You… can?” She knew it. She was disgusting. Not even her shiny train station uniform could hide the fact she was a disgusting pig. Of course I am. I must be the most feminine otaku to hit the streets! Look at me! Playing video games and working at a train station! Miwa almost stepped on a stray piece from her model train set. The poor thing always came apart when she parked her ass in her apartment for her weekend.

“Of course! I don’t know much about you yet, Ban-san, but I would guess this was your apartment from the few interactions we’ve had.”

“You… would?”

“I can really feel your love for trains in here.”

Miwa tilted her head in absolute amazement.

“There’s your uniform hanging there.” Sayuri pointed into the opened closet. “Your train set down here. A JR poster over there. A Scenes From Kagayama Stations photobook… and… ah! Your video game! It takes place in the subway, huh?”

Miwa swung her head toward her TV screen. She had paused on a scene in a subway, overtaken by demons from another world.

“I’m sorry for interrupting you on your day off,” Sayuri said. “But I had said I wanted to properly thank you for what you did for me, and I could only do that in person. Mailing something would not have been enough.”

“N… no?”

Sayuri reached into her bag and pulled out a box professionally wrapped at a gift shop. Oh my God. She got me something, didn’t she? Miwa looked around as if the gift were intended for someone else. “I wanted to get you something that you would appreciate, Ban-san.” Sayuri handed over the gift with a bow of her head. “Please accept this gift as a mediocre response to you saving my life!”

Miwa was forced to take the box and hold it close to her chest. It wasn’t that heavy. Nor was it that big. It could have been anything, from a small pack of sweets to a diamond necklace. What would I do with something like that?

“Thank you so much for your thoughtfulness.” Nope. Miwa still sounded like a dumb rube trying to speak in keigo… let alone in her current outfit. “I really can’t accept this…”

“You haven’t even opened it yet.”

She wanted her to open it right now? In front of her? Damn! She was nuts!

“Of course.” Miwa’s fingers hesitated to pull back the delicate wrapping. Sayuri continued to grin in anticipation. Maybe it wasn’t something generic after all. “But you really shouldn’t have.”

“I insist.”

The wrapping peeled back. Miwa could hardly believe her eyes.

It was an expansion to her train set. Specifically, the Saitama Prefecture Fun Adventures pack, featuring the old wooden clock tower in Kawagoe and the gates to the Mitsumine Shrine. Miwa looked up in shock.

“If there was one thing that I noticed the most about you, Ban-san,” Sayuri sheepishly said, “it’s that you really love trains.”

Miwa felt awful about stepping on half her train set, currently crammed against the tatami mats beneath them. “Thank you so much. Nobody’s ever gotten me something like this before.” Not since she was a child. Her parents stopped entertaining her fascination with trains after elementary school. That was a male pursuit, after all. Anything Miwa wanted after that time in her life she had to buy for herself.

“You must really love trains to work so hard to become a station attendant.”

“Yeah. I really loved them as a kid.” Miwa gently lowered the box to the one empty corner on her table. “I guess my two favorite things are trains and video games. I have a few simulation games… but you get kinda spoiled after working in a train station.”

Sayuri turned toward the TV. “What kind of game is this?” Her tone implied she knew what she was about to say was false. “A simulation game?”

Miwa laughed. “No, it’s a RPG. Turn-based.”

“I’m afraid I’m not too familiar with video games.”

I sound like such a nerd! “It means you take turns in a fight. The enemy attacks you, then you have your turn to decide what you want to do and attack. It’s very strategy based as opposed to reflex based. Real time games include a free-for-all in attacks.” Miwa didn’t care as much for those. Too much anxiety. “Turn-based is Japanese style.”

“Very fair and pragmatic. What is this game called?”

Neeeeerrrrrd! “It’s Demon Death Squad 5. You play high school students who go around collecting demon souls and using them in battles. This one takes place in Tokyo, so it really focuses on the train system.” Miwa laughed. “I was a fan before they did this, though. I’ve played all the games in the franchise. But this is the latest one. It came out last year and I’m on my third playthrough… ah, never mind me.”

“It sounds very interesting. My son…” Sayuri stopped, swallowing.

“You have a son?” Of course. She must have been married. Someone as pretty and polite as her… but why didn’t her husband pick her up from the hospital?

Sayuri continued as if she hadn’t interrupted herself. “My son really loves video games. But I think this one would be too old for him.”

“Yeah, it has the highest rating. They talk about some heavy stuff in it.” The demons were the easiest part to digest. The first dungeon was about a perverted high school teacher abusing his students, for fuck’s sake. “Oh! By the way…” Miwa turned to her guest. “Could I interest you in some tea? I think I have some around here.”

“Oh! Sorry, but I really must be going. I have an errand to run before heading home.”

“Of course. Thank you for coming by and for the present.”

Miwa showed Sayuri out with a few more parting words and phrases of gratitude. How strange. She had dreaded bringing Sayuri into her home, and now she almost didn’t want her to leave. Why couldn’t she stay for tea?

Why was Miwa comfortable enough to invite her to stay?

When Sayuri was gone, Miwa returned to her beanbag and picked up her game controller. She was halfway through another RPG battle when she decided to turn the game off and instead open her present. Perhaps she would spend the evening with takeout and her train set. A much more peaceful time than yelling at the video game for making cheap shots just because it was Hard mode.