Chapter 11: Why Are Japan’s Weird House Layouts So Common?

(Part One)

Maebashi’s city center isn’t much livelier than the train station.
It feels quieter, even.
Like Tokyo, you see foreigners everywhere—some Chinese aunties cursing fluently in Mandarin.
Even with a parasol, the blazing sun stings Cola’s eyes.

They meet Liuli’s cousin at a small café, a standalone house at a street corner.
The owner, with white hair, seems to run it for fun, not profit.
Pushing open the narrow glass door, a wind chime jingles pleasantly.

Liuli, usually lively and curious around Cola, bows timidly to the owner, greeting softly, “Sorry to disturb you…”

“Hey!”
A young man by the window waves enthusiastically, laughing.
“Little Liuli, over here!”

“Brother.”
Liuli nods quietly, taking small steps to the table and sitting cautiously.
“Don’t be so loud…”

“Haha, not that loud, right?
This is your new friend?”

“Yup!
Just met, but already a true friend (shinyu)!”
Liuli beams at Cola.

“Wow, that’s rare.”
The young man smiles at Cola, bowing politely.
“Hi!
I’m Kobayashi Huan!
Wow, such a cute girl—mind sharing your name?”

“Quantum Cola…”
Cola’s mouth twitches; she still finds the name absurd.

“Quantum… Cola?”

“Uh… written like this.”
She grabs a pen from the table, tears off a memo pad sheet, and neatly writes 「量子可楽」 in Japanese kanji.

“Whoa!
Awesome name, really awesome!
And your kanji’s so pretty!”

Cola, unsure if he’s amazed or teasing, scratches her nose awkwardly.

“Brother, I sent you Miss Cola’s requirements yesterday.
Did you check?”

“Oh, yeah, I picked some houses you can view on my tablet now.
But first—what do you two want to drink?
Little Liuli, still plain milk?”

“Yup, milk’s fine.”

“And you, Miss Cola?”

“Got any Cola…?”

“Ahem, this is a café…”
Kobayashi Huan’s face stiffens.

“We have sparkling soda water,” the owner says, looking up from wiping the counter.

“Alright, one milk and one sparkling soda water!”

“Soda water… fine, it’ll do.”
Cola mutters, nodding.

Kobayashi Huan coughs, pulling out a scratched, cracked-back iPad mini, probably third-gen.
“Miss Cola, based on your needs, I’ve selected seven properties.
Shall we start with the first?
I’ll explain each, and if you like any, we’ll visit in person.”

“Thanks for the trouble,” Cola says.
In Japan, even if you hate honorifics, the social vibe makes you slip into polite speech, especially with someone so courteous.

“No, no, just helping a friend of Liuli’s.
Haha, first up—this one’s furthest from the city center.
Less convenient without a car, but it’s cheap, well-maintained, and a detached house with a yard.
Here’s the exterior photo…”

(Part Two)

“Is this the detached house we saw?
49,000 yen a month?”
Under her black parasol, Cola looks up at the narrow standalone house.
It looked fine in photos, but in person, it’s shockingly slim—barely three doors wide, like a pillar stuck in the ground.

Its perks: a cheap, three-story detached house.
Climbing stairs might be a hassle, but the space seems… decent enough.

“It’s a square layout with a rooftop terrace.
Want to check inside, Miss Cola?”

“Uh… sure.”
Honestly, Cola’s already hesitant.
When the door opens, she’s even more so.

The first floor’s just a kitchen and bathroom.
The staircase is open-tread, with gaps so wide Cola’s thigh could get stuck.
To save space, it’s a spiral staircase—steep, with just a handrail and a base, the gaps practically a free-fall zone.
A grown man could plummet through.
Photos made it look okay, but in person, it’s barely livable.
And the lighting?
Overkill.
Five or six huge, bright windows on the first floor let you see straight through—inside and out.
Don’t Japanese value privacy?

Cola screams internally: Who the hell designed this?!

“Please—”

“Let’s skip it.”

“Huh?”

“The stairs look dangerous.”

“Oh, right, that wasn’t in the photos.
My apologies!
But for a detached house, these stairs are decent.
Some are nearly 90 degrees.
Young people can handle it, haha…”

Whether in China or Japan, real estate agents are master sweet-talkers.
Cola reluctantly follows to check it out.
The terrace is nice, but that’s it.
Unless she camps on it daily, it’s a pass.

First house: spiral-staircase, trapeze-artist detached house—rejected!

(Part Three)

The second house is another detached one.
Maybe it’s anime-tinted glasses, but Cola’s got a soft spot for Japan’s standalone houses.
In Tokyo, they’re too pricey, but Maebashi has cheap ones, so she’s eager to rent one.
Reality, though, isn’t as dreamy.

First, they’re old.
New detached houses are expensive; the affordable ones are decades-old, often from the Showa era, rarely Heisei.
Aging brings issues—musty dampness, cramped spaces, irrational layouts.
This one’s newer, built in Heisei, but zoning laws make its shape bizarre.

—A triangle.

Japan’s got plenty of weirdly shaped houses, but seeing one up close is jarring.
It’s a split-level house, with many “floors” but no real barriers between them.
Cooking on the second floor would stink up the whole place.
Half-asleep or drunk, you could roll from the top to the bottom without issue.
But it’s cheap, so Cola hesitates.
“Hmm… let’s keep this one for now.”

“Okay.”

Triangle split-level, toilet-in-a-corner, doorless-bedroom detached house—on hold!

(Part Four)

“This is the last one for today,” Kobayashi Huan says, leading the way, looking unfazed despite the long walk.
“Haha, Little Liuli, you look like you’re melting!”

“So hot…”
Liuli pouts.
“The sun’s brutal…”

“Haha, thanks for enduring.”

“No, you’re the one working hard, Brother.”

“Everyone’s worked hard, including Miss Cola!”

“I’m fine… just mentally drained.”
Cola’s eyelids droop.
“Japan’s got too many bizarre layouts.
Toilets under stairs where you can’t stand straight, attic bedrooms like greenhouses, corridor-like glass houses, or 30-square-meter places split into four rooms.
The one decent place had awful soundproofing—you could hear the neighbors talking.”

“Haha, perfect houses are hard to find!”
Kobayashi Huan laughs.
“But this one’s decent.
It’s an apartment, four stories, two units per floor, with stairs in between, so no noise from neighbors.”

“Phew… if it’s no good, I’ll look tomorrow.”
Cola’s eyelids sag.
“Today’s exhausting.”

“Thanks for your effort!”
He uses polite speech again.
“Showa Town 1-chome, Crystal Dome… just ahead.
See that BOOKOFF?
It’s across from it.
Super convenient—two minutes to a big mall!”

“That’s Japan’s biggest BOOKOFF, right?”

“BOOKOFF…?”
Cola blinks, puzzled.
“Like a secondhand store?”

“Yup!
They’ve got everything!”

“Haha, I buy figures there all the time.
Super cheap…
Oh, we’re here!”

Looking at the polygonal four-story apartment building, Cola’s faint hope sinks to rock bottom…