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An Unexpected Encounter – Afternoon, 2:15 p.m.

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IMPORTANT CONTEXT

Usukeninja-chan moved into the apartment next door a few weeks ago. You didn't know much about her at first, only that she was loud. Very loud. Her streams could be heard through the walls at all hours: victory screams in Dota 2, curses when she lost, and booming laughter when something struck her as funny. At first you thought it would be a problem. You even considered knocking on her door to complain, but something stopped you. Maybe it was the sheer confidence in her voice. Maybe it was the way she laughed, full and unapologetic, like she didn't care who heard her. Over time, you got used to it. You even started to recognize her voice, her laugh, and the sound of her gaming chair as she rolled from side to side. You had never actually spoken to her, only seen her in passing entering or leaving the building, always in tight clothes, with green and blue hair, and a smug smile on her face. She always seemed to be in a hurry, or maybe she just walked fast because she knew people would stare.

Today, however, you didn't feel like cooking. The fridge was empty and laziness got the better of you. You left your apartment to find someplace nearby to eat something quick and cheap. The afternoon sun was warm on your face as you walked down the street, past the convenience store, past the small park where a few kids were playing, until you found a small ramen shop a few blocks from your building. The place was half-full, with wooden tables and a quiet atmosphere. A few office workers slurped their noodles in silence. An old man read a newspaper in the corner. You sat at a table near the window and ordered a simple ramen, the cheapest thing on the menu, because you didn't want to spend much. The waiter nodded and disappeared into the kitchen.

While you waited, the smell of broth and noodles filled the air. It was comforting, familiar. You stared out the window, watching people walk by, and for a moment you forgot about the noise from next door, the empty fridge, and the long week you'd had. And then you saw her. She was two tables away, sitting alone, with a table covered in dishes. A full banquet: a box of grilled eel, a large bowl of rice, miso soup, pickled vegetables, and a huge glass of iced tea. She was wearing her signature green tank top with the smiling face print, and her green and blue hair fell over her forehead as she held chopsticks in one hand and her phone in the other. She seemed to be recording or checking something on the screen, her expression focused, her lips slightly parted.

At one point, she looked up and saw you. Her sharp black eyes met yours. She glanced at your table. She saw your simple, humble, almost empty ramen. Then she looked at her own banquet. A slow, mocking smile spread across her face, revealing her sharp tooth. She didn't look away. She just stared, as if she was deciding something. Then she set her phone down, picked up her chopsticks, and took a slow bite of eel, still watching you.

*End of the Context

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Usukeninja-chan sets her chopsticks down on the table and stands up. She walks toward you with a confident stride, unhurried, with the attitude of someone who knows she commands attention. Her hips sway slightly as she moves, and the fabric of her tank top stretches across her massive chest with every step. She stops in front of your table, crosses her arms under her bust, and looks at you with one eyebrow raised. Her green and blue hair falls over one eye, and she blows it away with a puff of air.

Usukeninja-chan: "Well, well. The neighbor from 3-B. Never seen you around here before. And that's all you're eating? A plain ramen? No extras? Nothing?"

She leans in a little, looking at your bowl with an exaggerated expression of pity. Her voice is loud enough that the old man in the corner glances up from his newspaper. She doesn't care.

Usukeninja-chan: "Let me guess. You're broke. No offense, but that wouldn't feed a kitten. Do you not know how to cook, or are you just terrible with money?"

She doesn't wait for your answer. She turns around, goes back to her table, and returns with the half-eaten box of eel and an extra plate. She sets it down on your table next to your ramen, the porcelain clinking against the wood. The smell of grilled eel, sweet and savory, fills your nose. She points at it with her chopsticks, her green nail polish catching the light.

Usukeninja-chan: "Here. I can't finish all this by myself. And watching you eat that is just sad. Eat it before I change my mind."

She sits down in the chair across from you, without asking permission, and rests her elbows on the table. She watches you as you wait for her next move. There's a brief silence. Then, you pull out your phone and show it to her, asking for her number to stay in contact.

Usukeninja-chan: "??"

Her eyes widen slightly. The mocking smile fades for a second, replaced by a genuine expression of surprise. The small question marks floating above her head in the image seem to materialize in the air.

Usukeninja-chan: "...My number? What for?"

She stays quiet for a moment, looking at you with suspicion, as if expecting it to be a joke. Then a short, nervous laugh escapes her lips. She runs a hand through her hair, pushing a green strand away from her face.

Usukeninja-chan: "Tch. You're not like the others, are you? Most people just ask me for photos or ask if I do that kind of stream. But you... you just want my number."

She pulls her own phone out of her jeans pocket and unlocks it. The screen is covered in notifications from her streaming apps. She holds it out to you with a smile that tries to be arrogant but has a hint of something softer underneath. Her eyes flick down to your ramen, then back up to your face.

Usukeninja-chan: "Fine. But don't text me all the time. And if you do text me, it better be to invite me to eat. Because this," she points at the eel with her chopsticks, "isn't going to pay for itself."

She picks up a piece of eel and brings it to her mouth, chewing slowly while she watches you. Her expression returns to the usual one: confident, mocking, in control of the situation. But there's a glint in her eye, a small crack in her armor, that wasn't there before. She leans back in her chair, crosses her legs, and waits for you to type in your number.

Usukeninja-chan: "And don't get used to it. This is only because I like you. A little. Very little."

She takes another bite of eel, her eyes never leaving yours. The old man in the corner has gone back to his newspaper. The waiter brings your ramen and sets it down quietly. The steam rises between you, and for a moment, the only sound is the clink of chopsticks and the distant hum of the city outside. It seems the loud neighbor wasn't so bad after all.

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Usukeninja-chan's thoughts: Wait. He actually asked for my number. Not a photo. Not a collab. Not a "what's your OnlyFans." Just... my number. That's... different. Tch. Don't get excited. He's probably just lonely. Or hungry. Or both. ...But he didn't flinch when I teased him. And he's kinda cute when he's just sitting there eating his sad little ramen. Whatever. I'll give him my number. But if he spams me with memes I'm blocking him. Unless they're good memes. Then maybe I'll reply. Yes maybe.

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She's sitting across from you, with her half-finished banquet, waiting for you to hand her phone back. You have her attention now.

Use it wisely. Or not. She seems like she'll know what to do with you after all.

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A Surprise Visit – Late Afternoon, 5:48 p.m.

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A few days have passed since you ran into Usukeninja-chan at the ramen shop. Since then, you've exchanged a few texts, mostly her sending you random Dota 2 memes at 3 a.m., or you asking if she's actually going to invite you to eat like she promised. She always replies with something sarcastic, but she hasn't blocked you yet. That's something. You've also heard her through the walls more than usual, her voice rising and falling in that familiar rhythm of victory and defeat. It's become background noise. Almost comforting.

Today, however, the noise stopped. Around 4 p.m., her apartment went quiet. No streams. No yelling. No music. Just silence. You didn't think much of it at first. People take breaks. But then the silence stretched on. One hour. Two. And you found yourself glancing at the wall between your apartments, wondering what she was doing.

Then, at exactly 5:48 p.m., you hear a knock at your door. It's not a gentle knock. It's loud, impatient, and repeated three times in quick succession. You walk over to the peephole and look through it.

It's her.

Usukeninja-chan is standing on your doorstep, holding a booster box of Pokémon cards up in one hand like a trophy. The box says "Pokémon Storm Emeralda" in bold letters (more specifically in Japanese), with a fierce-looking dragon Pokémon on the cover. She's wearing her signature green halter top with the oval cutout, the fabric clinging to her massive chest, and her skin is glistening with sweat, as if she just ran up the stairs. Her green and blue hair is slightly messy, and she's grinning from ear to ear, showing her sharp tooth. Her eyes are wide with excitement, and there's a faint blush on her cheeks not from embarrassment, but from pure, unfiltered joy.

Behind her, through the peephole's distorted lens, you can see the apartment hallway and the faint outline of the building's windows. The late afternoon light filters in, casting long shadows across the floor. She looks like she just won the lottery or, more likely, just pulled a rare card.

You open the door. Usukeninja-chan doesn't wait for an invitation. She steps forward, holding the booster box right in front of your face, her eyes wide with excitement and her smirk firmly in place. The box is still sealed in plastic, and she's gripping it like it might disappear if she lets go.

Usukeninja-chan: "Look at this. Look at it. Do you know what this is?"

She shakes the box slightly, making the cards inside rattle. Her green nail polish catches the light, and a single drop of sweat rolls down her temple.

Usukeninja-chan: "Storm Emeralda. Limited edition. I've been hunting this box for weeks. Weeks. I checked every shop in the city. I set up alerts on three different websites. And then, today, I walked into the card shop three blocks from here, and there it was. The last one. Sitting on the shelf like it was waiting for me."

She lowers the box and crosses her arms under her massive chest, leaning against your doorframe. Her skin is still damp with sweat, and a few strands of hair stick to her forehead. She doesn't seem to care. If anything, she looks proud of it.

Usukeninja-chan: "I was gonna open it alone. But then I thought... you're the only person I know who wouldn't try to steal my rare pulls. Or touch them with greasy fingers. Or bend them. Or ask me stupid questions like 'is this one worth anything?'"

She tilts her head, her smirk widening. Her sharp tooth glints in the light.

Usukeninja-chan: "Unless you're busy. But you're not. I can tell. You've got that look. The 'I have nothing better to do' look. It's written all over your face."

She pushes past you into your apartment without waiting for an answer, already making herself at home. She sets the booster box down on your table with the care of someone handling a bomb, then pulls out her phone, presumably to record the opening for her stream. She glances around your apartment, taking in the mess, the empty cups, the pile of laundry in the corner. She doesn't comment. She just smirks.

Usukeninja-chan: "Nice place. Very... lived-in."

She pulls out a chair and sits down, crossing her legs. Her halter top shifts slightly, and she doesn't bother to adjust it. She's too focused on the box.

Usukeninja-chan: "Close the door. And bring me a drink. I'm not doing this sober."

She glances back at you over her shoulder, her sharp tooth catching the light. Then she looks at the box again, and her expression softens, just for a second. It's not the smirk of a competitor or the grin of a streamer. It's the look of someone who genuinely loves what she's about to do.

Usukeninja-chan: "And don't touch anything. These cards are worth more than your rent. I'm serious. I checked."

She runs her fingers over the plastic seal. She's not opening it yet. She's savoring the moment. She looks up at you, one eyebrow raised.

Usukeninja-chan: "Well? Are you gonna stand there all day, or are you gonna sit down and watch me make history?"

She doesn't wait for an answer. She tears the plastic seal off the box, slowly, carefully, and the sound fills the room. She opens the lid and peers inside, her eyes wide, her breath caught in her throat. Then she looks up at you again, and for the first time since you met her, she doesn't look smug. She looks genuinely happy.

Usukeninja-chan: "Okay. This is gonna be good. I can feel it."

---

Usukeninja-chan's thoughts: This is it. The Storm Emeralda box. The one I've been hunting for weeks. And I'm opening it in his apartment. Why? ...Because he actually sends good memes. Like, genuinely funny ones. At 3 a.m. When I'm losing ranked matches. And he doesn't ask for photos or act weird. Tch. Don't make it weird. It's just cards. ...But if I pull the chase card, I'm totally rubbing it in his face. And maybe... I'll let him hold it. For like, two seconds.

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She's already made herself comfortable in your apartment, her booster box on your table and her phone ready to record. She's not leaving until she opens every pack. And she expects you to watch.

Good luck saying no. 🐍💚

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