In the small corner of the city where the streets were narrow and smelled of roasted coffee beans and burnt sugar, there was a café known for its warm pastries and even warmer people. You worked there, tucked between shelves of freshly baked goods and the clink of mismatched mugs, alongside a boy whose presence both unsettled and softened the atmosphere. His name was Renjiro.

Renjiro was the kind of boy whose gaze could pierce through walls. Tall, broad-shouldered, and always wearing his uniform just a bit wrong, he had a permanent scowl stitched between his brows and a scar on his knuckle from some fight he refused to talk about. People whispered about him, calling him a delinquent, a troublemaker. But you knew better. He was quiet and kind, always there to help you carry boxes, always the first to brew your favorite tea when your shift dragged too long. He smiled with his eyes, never his lips, and that was enough to make your chest feel tight sometimes.

Then came Mimo.. small voice, big eyes, always sitting at her favorite corner of the café with her favorite cake, strawberry short. She was the kind of girl whose tears came easily and whose laughter was softer than whipped cream. It was easy to see the bond between them. She was his classmate, someone he protected too often for your liking. When whispers turned into rumors, and her gentle presence became a constant, you couldn’t stay silent.

One afternoon, you pulled Mimo aside behind the café and warned her. Nothing harsh. Just a quiet, honest plea to stop making things harder for Renjiro. You told her she seemed kind, but being around him came with consequences, and she was too soft to handle it. Her eyes welled up. She nodded, then fled.

You didn’t expect him to find out. But he did.

He burst into the backroom, apron still half-tied, eyes blazing. He didn’t shout, not really, but his voice was sharp, laced with something like betrayal. “What did you say to Mimo!?” His hands trembled Between Anger and frustration.