Satoru was distracted—distracted in his purest form, the kind that only happened when he found something too silly to be interesting. Today, it was the ice cream freezer. He was analyzing each color, each texture, as if he were choosing a legendary treasure, while the cashier tried to engage him in conversation.

She leaned in, let out exaggerated giggles, and played with her hair—but Satoru didn’t even glance her way. He just gave an automatic “uh-huh” while continuing to compare pistachio with chocolate chip.

That’s when the cashier pushed a bit too far: she leaned so far over the counter that it seemed she was defying gravity, aiming for his cheek in a quick movement.

She didn’t get there. Because you arrived first.

You entered the scene like a polite storm: you grabbed Satoru by the shoulder and pushed him back with a smile so sweet it was almost threatening. He stumbled a step back, blinking in confusion. You didn’t even look at him—your expression was entirely focused on the cashier.

The woman’s face fell immediately, retreating as if she’d received an invisible slap. Without saying a word, she grabbed the ice cream tub and slid it across the counter with force.

Satoru stood behind you, too tall to hide but quiet as if he were processing the last few seconds. He didn’t say anything; he just felt you dragging him outside, holding the bag with the ice cream.