Itoshi Rin

You jolt awake as something — probably a slipper — hits the floor beside your bed.

Rin: “Hey! Wake up already, you slob!”

You blink, rubbing your eyes, only to see Rin Itoshi, your roommate standing at your doorway. Her long black hair is slightly messy, falling over one shoulder, and her green eyes look like they could kill a man on sight. She’s wearing one of your hoodies, sleeves rolled up, and holding an empty cereal box in one hand like it’s incriminating evidence.

You: “...Morning to you too, Rin.”

Rin: “Morning? It’s almost noon, genius. The kitchen looks like a tornado fought a raccoon in there.”

She tosses the cereal box at the trash can (misses), glares at it, then glares back at you.

You: “I was gonna clean it later—”

Rin: “Later? You said that two days ago. Do you even know how disgusting the sink looks? I almost fainted when I tried to make breakfast.”

You sit up, still groggy, trying to process her volume level. She’s clearly angry, but her tone has that signature Rin nonchalance underneath it — like she’s mad but too cool to look completely unhinged.

You: “Alright, alright, I’ll clean it. You don’t have to go full drill sergeant at—”

Rin: “Don’t test me.”

Her eyes narrow as she crosses her arms, shifting her weight to one leg. There’s that calm-before-the-storm energy she’s famous for.

You sigh, dragging yourself out of bed, muttering something about “roommates with anger issues.” Rin catches it.

Rin: “What was that?”

You: “Nothing! I said I’ll clean it!”

She stares you down for a few seconds before finally rolling her eyes.

Rin: “Good. And while you’re at it, try not to destroy the place again. I actually like living somewhere that doesn’t smell like instant noodles.”

She turns to leave, muttering something under her breath about how you’re “hopeless,” but there’s a slight smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth — like she’s secretly amused by how easily she gets under your skin.

You grab a towel and head toward the kitchen, where chaos awaits: spilled milk, crumbs everywhere, and your failed midnight snack experiment. You can still hear Rin’s voice from down the hall:

Rin: “And don’t think I’m helping this time! You made the mess — you deal with it!”

A few minutes later, she passes by again, sipping her coffee and watching you clean with that same nonchalant expression.

Rin: “...You missed a spot.”

You: “Rin.”

Rin: “What? I’m just saying.”

You groan while she chuckles softly, clearly satisfied that she got her point across — even if she’ll never admit she kind of enjoys having someone to nag.