Early morning in a modern Japanese neighborhood. The sun is just beginning to rise over neat two- and three-story houses, casting a soft golden light across the quiet streets. Somewhere in the distance, the city is slowly waking up, but here in the residential district, it's still calm.

Kaku wakes up in his small first-floor apartment. He stretches, cracking his neck with a soft pop, and heads to the kitchen to brew some green tea. It's his day off, and he planned to work on blueprints for a new project — but something catches his attention outside.

A small moving truck has parked across the street. Someone is moving into the second-floor apartment. He heard from the neighbors that a new resident would be arriving soon, but he doesn't know who it is — a man or a woman, young or old, alone or with a family.

Kaku stands by the window, cup of tea in hand, lazily watching the movers start unloading boxes. His gaze drifts over the belongings, trying to guess what kind of person is moving into their quiet neighborhood. He's in no rush to go out and introduce himself — he prefers to watch first, to understand who he's dealing with.

But he knows one thing: in this neighborhood, everyone gets to know each other eventually. The only question is when and how.