"Old woman… Is this what you call a double bed?"
Akira stared at the 'double bed' deep inside the warehouse, utterly speechless.
It turned out the so-called double bed was a bunk bed.
"Yes, it's been around for some years… Hmm, still very sturdy. Looks like it can still be used."
Granny Kobayashi walked over, grabbed the ladder, and shook it to test its strength, a nostalgic look on her face.
Akira asked, genuinely puzzled.
"Why is there something like this at home? Do you have many children, old woman?"
"I only have one son."
"Then who was this for?"
"It's something my old man and I used when we didn't live here yet. We stopped using it after moving in, but kept it as a memento. Never thought it'd come in handy."
"Then why wasn't it used later?"
At that question, Granny Kobayashi shot Akira a look that screamed Are you seriously asking that?
Yeah, no need to ask. Akira felt his own question was stupid.
Obviously, once they became husband and wife, they slept in the same bed. Why would they need a bunk bed?
"Before we got married, our relationship was still kinda vague, but I couldn't leave his side, so he built this bed himself for me."
"The old man made this himself? The old man had those skills…"
Akira didn't know what Granny Kobayashi's husband did for a living, but not many people could hand-make a bed.
"Yes, he said it was to commemorate his military days."
"Military… So the old man was a soldier."
No wonder. It's a replica of a military-issue bunk bed.
Indeed, this thing didn't look like a cute sibling bunk bed at all; no aesthetics, just pure function.
But this kind of bunk bed reminded Akira of his university dorm life in his previous world. Freshman and sophomore years: eight-person room, bunk beds.
Back then it was chaos. Eight guys together were a factory of bad ideas. Every day something new, laughter echoing down the whole hallway, the entire building in uproar. Happiness was that simple.
From junior year, he moved to a four-person room. Better environment, but… lonely. Even though his old roommates were next door and they still hung out, that father-and-sons closeness of bunk beds was gone.
Akira still regretted not being able to keep being the dad to his obedient sons.
Anyway, having a real bed was way better than the sofa.
"He was originally from the military, and the reason I got involved with him was because his identity was very special… Forget it, old stories. No need to bring them up."
Granny Kobayashi didn't want to dwell on memories and ordered Akira to drag the bed out.
"Take it out, wipe it down, then move it to your room."
"Old woman, did you sleep on the top or bottom back then?"
"I slept on the bottom… Why do you ask?"
"Nothing, so you like being on the bottom."
"You stinky boy!!! You &%￥＆@＆＆@￥%＃!!!"
Akira's dirty joke successfully enraged Granny Kobayashi, who unleashed a torrent of gloriously rustic national curses so loud that Hijikata on the second floor poked his head out the window.
Since Akira couldn't move the bunk bed alone, he asked Hijikata for help.
With Hijikata's assistance, the two dragged the bed up to Akira's room on the second floor.
"Thanks for the help, Hijikata."
Hijikata was a slightly chubby middle-aged man with black-rimmed glasses, naturally curly hair, a beard that nearly reached his sideburns, wearing a stand-collar jacket and shorts, leg hair so thick it looked like wool trousers.
His full name was Hijikata Yu—very Shinsengumi vibes—but he didn't seem to like it much.
Hijikata bent over, hand on his lower back, panting like he'd run a marathon.
"Phew… My old back's about to give out. I really need to exercise regularly…"
"Morning runs with me?"
"Running's impossible. Too heavy—knees can't take it."
After catching his breath, Hijikata looked at the bunk bed with nostalgia.
"Bunk bed… Brings back memories."
As expected of a fellow transmigrator. Most native Japanese are day students and have never slept in dorms or bunk beds.
There were three residents at Kobayashi's, including Akira, but they were just housemates—no deeper bond.
No one wanted to talk about their past lives; maybe those lives hadn't been great.
"New housemate?"
"Yeah, but not one of us."
"Oh."
Hijikata didn't pry further, clearly uninterested.
Just then, Miyako, fresh from her bath and wearing the tracksuit, stepped out of the bathroom. Seeing Hijikata beside Akira, she bowed politely.
"Hello, I'm Miyako Shion. I'll be staying here from today. You must be Hijikata-san. Please take care of me."
"Uh… yeah… Hijikata Yu…"
Hijikata answered in a daze. Akira could hear his breathing get heavier.
As expected—Miyako's looks were lethal to men.
But Hijikata, with two lifetimes of experience, quickly recovered and leaned in to whisper in Akira's ear.
"Kid, your second life's looking up, huh? Enjoy it. Don't worry about noise—I'll wear headphones."
He patted Akira's shoulder with a knowing bro-to-bro grin, nodded at Miyako, and returned to his room.
"…"
Why does everyone assume that?!
I'm not gonna do it!
Miyako walked up to Akira. A fresh post-bath scent drifted from her, and a natural, alluring pink still tinted the girl's cheeks.
"Um, Akira-kun… I saw women's business attire in the laundry basket. Is there someone else living here?"
"Oh, that's probably Tashiro-san's. She's the third resident—besides me and Hijikata-sensei—and lives across the hall."
Akira pointed to the opposite door.
"If she were home, borrowing clothes from her would've been better, but she's probably out. I don't know what Tashiro-san does, but she often doesn't come home at night."
"I see…"
"Yeah. With a normal schedule, it's hard to run into Hijikata-sensei or Tashiro-san. Both are night owls—rarely seen during the day."
Hijikata-sensei doesn't go out to work; he's a freelance programmer who codes all night.
Long-term sub-health, just like Akira in his previous life.
Even after transmigrating, still a corporate slave—tragic.
As for Tashiro-san, it felt like she actively avoided Akira.
He remembered once just saying hi from behind and she screamed and bolted several meters away. That hurt.
Tashiro-san seemed extremely socially anxious.
Akira hadn't decided whether to team up with these two "compatriots." Same homeland doesn't guarantee tears of joy.
The saying "countrymen don't scam countrymen" isn't always true—especially among transmigrators.
For now, neither Hijikata-sensei nor Tashiro-san wanted to talk about their pasts. Same for Akira.
"By the way, I'll be sleeping with you tonight."
"Eh? Eh, eh, eh?! R-really, are we sleeping together…?"
Even with Miyako's talent, she couldn't fully hide her shock.
Even just futons side by side—this was unprecedented for her.
Sleeping next to a boy… What if he sneaks into her futon at night? Resist? Or just… accept it quietly…
In return…
First time…
While Miyako spiraled into wild fantasies, Akira—just wanting to tease her—opened his room door with a mischievous grin.
"Hehe, look!"
And there it was: the first piece of furniture in the empty room—a bunk bed.
As expected, Akira-kun isn't that kind of person…
Miyako silently vowed: next time she wavers, two slaps!
"So, top or bottom?"
"Top!"
Eyes sparkling at the bunk bed, Miyako declared firmly once more.
"I want to sleep above you!"