Osaka, Mid-September 2018, Kindai University, Outside of Aquaculture Tech Building

The soft autumn wind rustled the leaves of red maple trees under which Johan Sitohang sat with his laptop open. The young man had just finished his lunch, a simple bento of stir-fried sesame tofu and spinach in garlic sauce, and was killing time before he had to go to his next class. His eyes scanned his inbox for new e-mails. As if on cue, a new notification popped up.

Re: Room Still Available For Sublet in Tiny Off-Campus Apartment

Hi there,

I saw on the Kindai Area Leasing Facebook group that you're looking for a chill guy to split housing bills with. I don't know if your definition of "chill" matches mine, but I'm someone who minds my own business for the most part and wouldn't steal food from the shared fridge. Also, I like making tea first thing in the morning. Is that a vibe you could work with? Because if so, I would love to meet and discuss the possibility of moving into your space. But hey, no pressure.

Looking forward to seeing if we can be housemates,

Chandresh Dhillon

Johan blinked rapidly. The last name was familiar. Could this Chandresh be related to the dean of the Agricultural Sciences department? There had been various rumors circulating about Dean Kiran Dhillon's eccentric son, nicknamed Prince of Menace, but Johan himself had barely paid attention to all the gossip. He only knew that, supposedly, the said prince was a heartthrob with a track record of breaking the hearts of girls across departments.

Johan sighed. He reached into the front pocket of his schoolbag for his phone and dialed the number of his best friend, Kenta Kinoya. He needed the opinion of a trustworthy person.

"Kenta, got a minute? I'd like to talk about an email I just read. It's important."

There was no response for a few seconds, but Johan heard the snapping of twigs and the faint, shrill, high-pitched song of a bird. Kenta must still be caught up in his botanical garden part-time job. Johan was about to apologize for calling out of the blue when Kenta finally spoke.

"You sound nervous. What kind of email is it? Something from your scholarship provider?"

"No, it's from The Prince of Menace. Well, I know now his actual name is Chandresh. Believe it or not, he's interested in rooming with us. But I want your honest take on this. I'll send you a screenshot of what he wrote, okay? Read for yourself and decide if we should seriously consider meeting with him."

There was silence on the other side as Kenta processed the news.

"Hm. He seems like the bold, straight-forward type. I say we give him a chance, Johan. He could really surprise us. Besides, think of it as an opportunity to get to know him beyond unverified words of mouth."

"You sure? It's not that I think he's pranking us or anything. I'm more worried about whether we would get along with him. He's popular and we're... well, we're nerds. No offense, Kenta."

"Listen, there's a cafe not very far from our apartment. Aisansou Cafe. Has great juices and milkshakes. Maybe we can ask Chandresh to meet us there this weekend. If he seems judgy of our nerdiness, then he doesn't get to sign the paperwork. But otherwise, the door is open. Deal?"

"Alright, I hear you. Promise you'd be secretly watching out for red flags?"

"Always."

*****

As Kenta had planned, on a calm Saturday afternoon, he and Johan sat tucked into a corner booth with Chandresh, their drinks set before them. Kenta ordered a matcha latte, Johan decided to try guava juice, and Chandresh was nursing a tall iced chai with a cinnamon stick, stirring it in lazy circles.

Kenta leaned forward, his tone casual but kind. "Can I ask you something? You don't have to answer if you'd rather not."

Chandresh looked up, his brow raised with curiosity but not suspicion. "Shoot."

Kenta gave a small shrug. "I've heard that nickname—Prince of Menace—since my first year. I never really bought into it, but I was wondering... where did it even come from? Is it just something people made up, or was there a story behind it?"

Johan gave Kenta a sideways look, almost impressed. That was the most direct he'd seen him be with someone they'd just met. Still, the way Kenta asked made it feel more like a quiet invitation than an interrogation.

Chandresh let out a breathy laugh, then shook his head. "Man, I haven't heard someone ask that so politely before." He tapped his fingers against the glass. "It started during a stupid campus debate event hosted by the Political Science department. I was on the opposing side and—I don't know, I got a little fired up. I blurted out something like, 'Benevolent rule requires sharp edges,' which is... pretentious, I know."

Johan snorted. "You said that out loud?"

"I was seventeen. I thought I was clever," Chandresh said, groaning into his hands. "Anyway, someone called me 'Prince of Menace' as a joke afterward, and it stuck. I didn't even like it, but I leaned into it. It was easier than trying to constantly fix how people saw me."

Kenta sipped his latte slowly. "That makes sense. Sometimes people hold onto a version of us that's easier to label than to understand."

Chandresh looked at Kenta, and for a second, something in his expression softened. "Exactly."

Johan glanced between them and felt a strange pang of admiration. Kenta's way of speaking could cut through defenses like sunlight through mist. And Chandresh? Honestly, maybe there was more to him than just rumors and dramatic nicknames.

Chandresh took another sip of his chai, clearly thinking the conversation had settled. But then Johan, who had been uncharacteristically silent until now, tilted his head and asked, "So it has nothing to do with you turning down some girls?"

Kenta nearly choked on his latte.

Chandresh blinked, caught off guard, then let out a low laugh that lingered at the corners of his mouth. "Okay, that part might've added fuel to the fire."

"Oh?" Johan raised an eyebrow.

"I didn't exactly go looking for attention," Chandresh said, swirling the cinnamon stick in his glass. "But I guess some people thought I was leading them on just by being... friendly? Or decent? And when I said I wasn't interested, it turned into this whole thing."

Kenta finally found his voice again, his tone a mix of disbelief and empathy. "So they spun the rejection into a reputation."

"Yep. Prince of Menace—because how dare I say no and smile in the same sentence." Chandresh leaned back in his chair. Not bitter, just... tired.

Johan gave a small grunt of understanding. "People love a villain if it means they don't have to deal with being disappointed."

Chandresh looked at him like he hadn't expected that level of insight. "Yeah. Precisely."

The table fell into a brief silence, not awkward but thoughtful. Outside, the faint sound of a passing train rumbled in the distance. The early autumn light filtered through the café window, casting soft shadows across their drinks.

Then Kenta, ever the peacekeeper, offered a small smile. "Well, for what it's worth, I like our version of the story better."

Chandresh smiled back with quiet relief. "So do I."

The group went quiet for a heartbeat or two until Chandresh tapped the side of his glass, eyes flicking between the two of them with a gleam of curiosity. "So, can I ask—what are you guys studying? I mean, obviously you're both smarter than me, but I'm curious."

Johan snickered. "I wouldn't say that. I major in Fisheries Science. I want to work on sustainable aquaculture, especially for developing coastal communities. Maybe go into marine biology or oceanography for my Master's degree."

Chandresh sat up straighter, visibly impressed. "That's... seriously amazing. So it's not just about raising fish, but thinking about entire ecosystems and food security?"

Johan blinked, a little surprised by the depth of Chandresh's knowledge. "Exactly. It's about maintaining balance. If fish farming is done irresponsibly, it can mess with the delicate balance of wild aquatic creature populations or pollute water. But done right, it could change lives for the fish breeders and fishmongers."

Chandresh nodded slowly, clearly taking it in. "Do you think your professor would let us do a capstone project as a team? Like, you and me—cross-disciplinary. I know they usually assign them individually, but I've been thinking... what if we could frame fish as part of a political conversation? Food sovereignty, climate change, international agreement, trading, commerce."

Johan tilted his head. "I didn't know you were into multidisciplinary stuff."

Chandresh gave a wry grin. "I'm a Social Sciences guy, so of course I've always been obsessed with how power works. Institutions. Narratives. I guess I want to know: who gets to tell people what progress looks like?"

Kenta, who had been listening quietly, perked up. "If that's the angle... then I wonder if there's a way to bring plants into it too. I'm studying Advanced Biochemistry, but I'm on the Clean Tech track. I've been experimenting with algae for bioethanol. What if you looked at aquaculture not just for food, but also as an energy source?"

Johan's eyes lit up. "Like how kelp farms provide both food for humans and renewable biofuel through hydrothermal liquefaction?"

"Exactly," Kenta said excitedly. "Some varieties like the kombu grow fast, sequester carbon, and don't compete for land space. If you're already raising fish in offshore systems, maybe you could integrate seaweed—make the whole setup more circular. Maybe our capstone project can be something like an exploration into how the international community of environmental activists and policymakers can protect fish that have symbiotic relationships with beneficial algae."

Chandresh's expression had gone from intrigued to completely lit up. "Okay, I've made my mind up. I truly need to live with you two nerds. Please let me into your social circle."

Johan gave a slow nod, trying not to grin. "You think we're nerds?"

"You are nerds," Chandresh replied, grinning widely. "But the kind of nerds who might actually save the world. You're fascinating."

Kenta and Johan spontaneously broke into laughter at the idea of being brainiac superheroes.

"Fine, you're in!" Johan smirked after he calmed down from laughing so much. "But you better figure out how to persuade our advisors to supervise us as we fuse the most outlandish fisheries theories with political science chaos and botanical insanity."

Chandresh hesitated, then glanced at the condensation on his glass. "Don't laugh at me, but... despite my Papa-ji being a professor himself, I'm clueless when it comes to structuring a research proposal. Like, I know what I want to research with you guys, but I'm not confident I can explain the why in the academic sense. It always comes out sounding... messy."

Johan gave him a warm, patient look. "Hey. That's not laughable. Most people struggle with research proposals. Clarity doesn't always come naturally."

Kenta nodded. "It's a skill, not a personality trait. You already have the vision, and that's the hardest part. Structure can be taught."

"Exactly," Johan added. "We can help you shape it. Think of it like aquaculture. You have the seedlings, and we just need to build the right environment for them to grow."

Chandresh looked between them, visibly relieved. "Thanks. I guess... part of me worried you'd think I was coasting on my Papa-ji's reputation. That I wouldn't pull my weight."

"Not true, Chandresh." Kenta said softly, "If you didn't care about pulling your weight, you wouldn't be nervous about the proposal in the first place."

Chandresh let out a small laugh, almost surprised by the kindness in Kenta's voice. "You're something else, Kinoya-san."

"And you're not the Prince of Menace," Johan said, almost teasing. "At least, not right now."

"Well," Chandresh replied with a mock bow, "allow me to formally retire the title—if you two are willing to co-write a legendary proposal with me."

Kenta chuckled. "Only if we get to bicker over fonts and citation styles."

******

The sun had already dipped below the skyline by the time Chandresh got home, a cozy apartment tucked above an old Indian grocery store run by his mother. He climbed the narrow stairs two at a time, still carrying the faint scent of chai latte on his breath and a strange, rare lightness in his chest.

He found his father, Professor Kiran Dhillon, in his usual spot—seated on the balcony's table, sipping cardamom coffee, snacking on mangoes, and marking up student essays with a red pen.

"Papa-ji," Chandresh began, dropping his bag by the doorway. His tone wasn't defiant, just steady. "Remember when I told you I wanted to have my own place?"

Kiran looked up from his papers with a raised eyebrow. "Yes, I remember. You said you needed space. Independence."

"I still mean that," Chandresh exhaled. "And today... I met the people I want to move in with. Johan and Kenta. They're nice. Kind of nerdy, but easy to talk to."

At the mention of the name, Kiran's brow furrowed thoughtfully. "Johan Sitohang?"

Chandresh blinked. "Yeah. How do you know him?"

Kiran set his pen down, a rare smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "I've read his essays for the university's scholarship review board. Bright student. And very respectful when he asked permission to borrow my 3D models of aquaponic hyacinths last year to run an analysis of tilapia growth rate in hyacinth-heavy aquariums. If that's who you'll be roommates with, that's great."

Chandresh's shoulders relaxed a little, surprised by the quick endorsement.

"I will," Chandresh said. "In fact... we might even work on our capstone project together. If the professors approve."

Kiran gave an approving nod. "Then maybe moving out will be the making of you."

Chandresh stood frozen for a second, not quite believing what he was hearing. His father's calm approval felt... almost too easy.

"Wait," Chandresh said, blinking. "You're not even gonna ask about Kenta?"

Kiran leaned back in his chair, coffee in hand, amused. "That's Johan's best friend, right?"

Chandresh nodded slowly, still not sure where this was going.

"Well then," Kiran said simply, "I trust Johan. Therefore, I trust his best friend too."

It was such a simple answer, delivered with no trace of sarcasm or challenge, that it caught Chandresh off guard. For a moment, he didn't know what to do with the warmth curling in his chest.

"Oh," Chandresh mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. "I thought you'd grill me. You always grill me."

Kiran chuckled softly. "Only when you come home smelling like smoke or turn in your readings late. This... this sounds like something good."

Chandresh pressed his back against the balcony wall. The air smelled faintly of hibiscus and city dust. The smell of comfort and possibilities mixed in.

"It does feel good," he said after a pause. "I wasn't expecting that either."

Kiran looked over at him, his eyes gentler than usual. "Sometimes it takes meeting the right people to start seeing who you could become."

Chandresh didn't reply, but his silence wasn't sullen. It was heavy with thought. For once, he didn't feel like a mess of contradictions. He just felt... steady. Like something in his orbit was finally clicking into place.

****

Chandresh found his mother, Navrita, in the kitchen, rinsing coriander leaves, the sink gurgling quietly beneath her hands. She glanced up as he entered, then turned off the tap.

"You're pacing again," she said gently, drying her hands on a faded towel.

"Ammi," Chandresh began, his voice unsure. "Papa-ji doesn't usually praise a student so highly. And it's also unusual for him not to argue with me for hours when I want something."

Navrita tilted her head, listening. Chandresh stepped closer, his voice lower now, tangled with something tender and restless.

"I don't know how I feel," he admitted. "Elated? But also kind of panicky inside? Panicky because... what if I let him down? What if he asks me to come back here under full parental supervision? I've been working so hard to show him I can be a responsible kid."

Navrita reached up and fixed his slightly askew turban. "Oh, beta," she murmured, "you're not a kid anymore. And your Papa-ji sees that. It just takes him a little longer to say it out loud."

Chandresh looked down, the tile cool beneath his bare feet.

"But what if I mess it up? Like... not with the chores or utility and water or electric bills for my new place. I can handle that. I mean everything else. What if, for some reason, Papa-ji suddenly thinks I'm too immature and takes it all back?"

Navrita's hand moved to her son's shoulder, firm and steady. "Your Papa-ji has always been slower at understanding spontaneity than you are at embracing it. But today, he gave you something rare from him—trust. And not just trust in Johan. Trust in your judgment, too."

Chandresh blinked, throat tightening.

"You didn't earn that overnight," she said. "You earned it by showing him, again and again, that you have a good heart. That you don't just want freedom, but you want to use it wisely."

****

Later that night, Johan and Kenta were lounging in their shared apartment's living room. The fireplace—more decorative than functional—crackled with a low, amber glow thanks to the battery-powered faux flames Kenta had insisted on setting up for ambiance. Johan sat with his legs curled under him on their hand-me-down sofa, a mug of non-alcoholic apple cider in his hands. Kenta was curled up with a thick ecology text, his petite frame wrapped in a thin blanket.

The quiet between them was easy, like a favorite song hummed without thinking. Johan had just reached for the TV remote when his phone buzzed.

Incoming Call: Chandresh Dhillon

Johan exchanged a glance with Kenta before answering.

"What's up?"

Chandresh's voice came through the speaker, a little breathless, like he'd been running an emotional marathon. "Johan, my parents gave me the green light."

Johan sat up straighter. "Whoa—seriously? That's fast."

"This is huge, right?" Chandresh laughed nervously. "But I'll be honest. I'm terrified too."

Johan looked over at Kenta, who was already setting his book aside, waiting to be on the loop. He put the call on speaker.

"You don't have to have it all figured out yet," Johan said. "We're still fumbling too."

"I mean, I don't even know how to grocery shop properly without getting distracted by the snack aisle," Chandresh muttered. "And I still forget to clean my phone screen regularly until Ammi gently scolds me. What kind of adult is that chaotic that he could barely survive alone?"

"The honest kind," Kenta offered. "No one's an expert at adulting. Fake it 'til we make it."

There was a pause on the line. Then a soft chuckle from Chandresh.

"I guess it just feels real now. Like... the bridge from my life before to the one I want is actually being built. I was half-convinced I'd mess it up before I even started crossing it."

Johan smiled, curling his fingers tighter around his mug. "You won't. We'll build it together, brick by brick. It's not about doing everything right. It's about showing up."

"Damn, you're good at pep talks," Chandresh said, voice a little steadier. "Thanks, Johan. You too, Kenta."

"Anytime," Kenta replied, voice soft.

After they hung up, the apartment was quiet again. Johan stared into the flickering light of the fireplace.

"I think Chandresh is cool for still wanting to be independent while scared," he murmured. "That fear he carries is understandable and super relatable."

Kenta leaned his head on Johan's shoulder, just briefly. "Yeah," he said. "I think this is going to be something special, the three of us adulting together."

Johan didn't answer right away, but a quiet feeling settled in his chest. The kind that only came when life, for a fleeting moment, felt like it was unfolding exactly the way it was supposed to.