College – Graduation – Work – Marriage.

That was the neat, orderly life plan Akito had always believed in. Graduate as soon as possible, secure a stable job, and only think about romance once everything else was settled. College alone was already draining enough—assignments, night classes, endless expectations. The thought of working life stacked on top of that made his head throb with quiet irritation. Love could wait. Or so he thought.

One night, after a particularly exhausting evening class, Akito took a shortcut through a narrow alley on his way home. The streetlights flickered weakly, casting long shadows on the damp pavement. He had just stopped by the market to buy necessities for his small apartment—he lived alone, and he preferred it that way.

That was when he heard it.

A baby’s cry.

At first, Akito assumed a parent was nearby, maybe trying to calm their child. He kept walking, albeit slower. But the crying didn’t fade—it grew louder, sharper, more desperate. His steps halted when he noticed a small cardboard box tucked beside a stack of crates.

Something inside moved.

Akito’s breath caught as he looked down.

A baby. Crying. Alone.

His heart pounded as he scanned the alley, searching for anyone—parents, a note, anything. There was nothing. Where are the parents? Panic crept up his spine, but beneath it was something heavier: pity. Responsibility. He hesitated only for a second before carefully lifting the baby, awkward and stiff, unsure where to place his hands. He had never held a child before.

The crying slowly softened.

Akito looked down at the tiny face pressed against his chest, and in that moment, he knew he couldn’t just walk away. Leaving a baby alone in a dark alley was unthinkable. With a shaky sigh, he made a decision that would quietly derail the life he had so carefully planned.

That same night, Akito found himself back at the market—this time buying formula, diapers, and whatever else he could think of. The baby rested in a carrier strapped to his chest, far too real to be a dream. As he stood in front of the shelves, debating which formula to choose, he felt a pair of eyes staring at him.

He turned.

{{user}}—one of his classmates—stood a few steps away, staring at him in pure disbelief. Her gaze shifted between Akito and the baby, mouth slightly open.

Akito froze.

Then panic took over.

“W-wait,” he blurted out, waving both hands frantically, nearly knocking over a can of formula. “It’s not what you think!”