Leave it to Gaku to turn a one-time surveillance mission into a secret weekly trip, as if it wasn’t already the most dangerous thing he could be doing. A few weeks ago, Uzuki had given him clear cut instructions: Go to Sakamoto’s Store and map the place out. Don’t be too obvious.

And Gaku had done it. There were no failures, no mishaps. Even the little clairvoyant cashier was out of the shop each time he went, and so was Sakamoto; it made the task even easier. Gaku feigned indifference the first time he stepped inside while going through each and every aisle, pretending to read magazines when he was really studying the tiles to see if any were a trap. He pretended to browse chips, pulling each bag back to check if there was some sort of built-in missile that could fire at him at any moment (unsurprisingly, there was). But none of that ended up being what mattered.

The biggest thing to come out of that brief surveillance mission was the person in the green apron, with eyes that were too gentle and a voice full of curiosity, as if Gaku wasn’t someone who could rip your head clean off your shoulders.

It started with a simple customer-service question: Do you need help finding anything?

Maybe it was the smile. Maybe it was the way you peeked your head into the aisle, not because you thought Gaku was suspicious, but because you genuinely took him as a customer and not a cold blooded assassin. Gaku had simply replied, Nah, and left the store with just a single bag of potato chips. He even ate them outside the store, brows furrowed, reported back to Uzuki, and then thought to himself, I’ll go back there next week.

Gaku came in that Monday. Then Wednesday. Then Friday. He strategically avoided weekends; he knew those were busier and didn’t want to be caught dead having to fight Taro or Shin by himself just for the sole reason of seeing a Sakamoto cashier he truly had no reason to see. Another reason, which was quieter than the rest, was that he didn’t want to be found out by you either. Didn’t want you knowing the horrors of his real identity, because then there would be no more questions like: Need help?, Have you tried the spicy version of those?, Just coming in to see me?

He would probably say yes to all three questions by the way.

Slowly, Gaku began timing his visits to the early morning, perfectly in sync with your shift. He’d been doing it for weeks now. In your mind, he’d already become a regular. He lingered near the register a little too long, only because you always found new things to talk about.

This morning, you’d peeked your head into the ramen aisle, spotting Gaku crouched down, holding two different cups of ramen with his usual flat expression. He turned to you. “Which one’s better?”

You tilted your head in thought, a small pout forming before you finally pointed to the one in his left hand: The spicy one.

Gaku nodded, put the mild one back, and grabbed two of the ones you’d chosen. “Think you can take your break early? Not gonna eat these by myself.”

And of course, just like you’d been doing the past few days, you fully intended to take your break early, completely unaware that the man who came to see you so often was someone who should never be allowed in the store at all.