AE STUDIO SPACE Manga

Original manga · Autumn

The Seat Beside the Window

A wrong door leads Ren to Ritsu, a cup of coffee and a seat someone has saved for him.

Yokohama, autumn 2026 · University life in Japan

Story & art by AE STUDIO SPACE

Episode: 01 / 03
Pages: 9
Genre: BL · Mystery · Campus life

Read upper balloons first, then right to left.

September 7, afternoon. Just arrived at the Yokohama university, Ren pushes the wrong door beside the student-residence office, carrying a small rolling case and campus map. Inside the workroom, Ritsu looks up from a pencil study of his harbour bench painting. Their contrasting adult faces and hair share the first page. No laptop in Ren’s hands. Ren catches the joke, looks at the paint-covered tool table rather than anyone’s clothes, and gives a small embarrassed smile. Ritsu points toward the neighbouring office, then catches Ren’s eye again before he leaves. The open workroom has a student welcome meeting at four; it is not an assigned guide’s office. Ren: Is this the residence office? Ritsu: Only if you sleep in a chair. Ren: Sorry. Wrong room. Ritsu: Come back at four. There’ll be coffee.

At the neighbouring residence office Ren receives his room key and orientation folder. His university enrolment and language-class form are inside. Through the adjacent doorway the same workroom can be glimpsed; this is the next door, not another unexplained journey. In his room, Ren unpacks the rolling case beside the bed, puts course folders on the desk and hangs one everyday shirt in the wardrobe. He tucks his arrival ticket into his journal and writes: Arrived. Only got lost once. Staff: Welcome. The student meeting starts at four. Ren: Arrived. Only got lost once.

At four, Ren returns without the suitcase, following the familiar courtyard path to the same workroom. Aya sorts name cards at the table. Ritsu looks up before Ren speaks, then moves his harbour board onto the rack. They recognize each other. Ren scans the busy room instead of sitting, leaning forward with one hand hovering at his backpack zip. Aya redirects him toward a chair with an open palm. Aya: Ren? Come in. That’s Ritsu—you’ve met? Ren: I can set up the website, if you need— Aya: We’ll get to that. Come sit with us first.

Ritsu pulls an empty chair out of the fan’s direct airflow and turns it toward the window end of the table. Ren is still standing beside it, backpack on one shoulder, hands empty; he notices Ritsu’s light fringe lifting before the offered chair. Do not seat Ren or give him a notebook yet. Ren has just sat in the offered window-end chair. Ritsu, seated opposite with a small teasing smile, slides an unopened unbranded iced-coffee can toward him on the clean table. Ren looks up at Ritsu, hands resting beside the can; the seat is the referent of their exchange. No painted text or logos on the can. Ritsu: Here. This seat escapes the fan. Ren: You saved it for me? Ritsu: Well, you were taking your time.

Aya points to the autumn exhibition calendar: Friday, 4 December, four o’clock. September classes, October planning and November work checks occupy separate rows. Several students choose a small first task; a long project is beginning, not an emergency. Ren chooses the website card; Ritsu picks up a sketchbook rather than volunteering for him. Aya: The exhibition opens December fourth. Pick one job to start with. One, Ren. Ren: The website, then. Just that. Ritsu: I’m showing the harbour painting. If I stop repainting the same patch.

At Ritsu’s easel, Ren sees the same portrait-format harbour board: a diagonal wooden bench in the lower third, one cup on its left end, a broad unoccupied right seat, water and a thin warehouse horizon above. Small dry-brush passages and one pale unfinished water patch distinguish painted marks from the manga room’s linework. Two small rejected water studies lie on the separate tool table. Ren stays outside the tools. Ritsu holds the brush above the unfinished water and waits for a verdict. Ren studies the open place on the painted bench. Ritsu follows his gaze, lets his brush hand relax and lays it down. His small relief comes from someone noticing the part he wanted to keep, not from receiving permission to keep it. Ren: Can I look? Ritsu: You already are. Just remember it’s not finished. Ren: It looks like someone’s saving a seat. Ritsu: That’s the part I like. I keep repainting everything else.

With the painting safely on the rack, they test a display-card mock-up on Ren’s desk laptop. Ritsu leans in, hands on the table rather than on Ren. Ren laughs at Ritsu’s small button sketch. Ritsu pauses to watch the laugh; when Ren turns the laptop toward him, he drops his eyes to the paper a fraction late. He turns the scrap over and pencils a few quick lines while Ren checks the screen. The drawing’s face is obscured by the viewing angle until Picture 9. Ritsu: That button looks like a lift alarm. Ren: Apparently rectangles aren’t my strong point.

The other students begin packing up. Ren closes the laptop and starts to stand while Ritsu wipes the separate tool table. Ritsu nudges the spare chair toward the clean side of the table with his foot. He leaves his own half-full coffee beside Ren’s; Ren has been pocketing his things too early. Ren: That’s the mock-up done. I should let you paint. Ritsu: Stay a bit. I haven’t finished my coffee.

They leave the workroom together, laptop left on the desk and painting on its rack. At the courtyard path their routes separate. Ritsu gives him a smaller, less practised smile. Ren lets his backpack strap slide from his fist. As they part, Ritsu takes a folded scrap out of his pocket: the button sketch on one side, a quick drawing of Ren laughing on the other. The reader sees the black curls and black tee; Ren does not see this drawing yet. Ritsu: Coming back tomorrow afternoon? I’ll save you this seat. Ren: Do you need help with something? Ritsu: No. You can just come. Ren: All right. I’ll come.