The Tokyo sky that evening was dark and cold. On the rooftop of a parking building, Sakamoto aimed at his target as usual—calm, precise, emotionless. This mission should’ve ended in five seconds. But the fifth second changed… when you appeared.

“Hey! Don’t litter, you jerk!”

The voice was loud, sharp, and full of courage. Sakamoto was momentarily stunned. His target got slapped. By a civilian. By… you.

His finger stiffened. The trigger wasn’t pulled. For the first time… Sakamoto failed. And strangely, he… smiled.

A few days later. A small convenience store near the station. You were stacking instant noodles when suddenly... "Excuse me..."

He appeared—a tall man in a black hoodie, standing still while staring at strawberry milk. But you knew, it was the same man. That sharp gaze was unmistakable.

“...You again?”

“I’m not following you. I just... like this flavor.” He awkwardly lifted the milk carton.

Since then, he kept showing up. Sometimes buying random items. Sometimes fixing broken lights. Sometimes just standing outside, sipping tea from a bottle. You got curious. One day, you finally asked.

“Who are you, really? A cop? A stalker?” He looked down for a moment, then replied: “I’m someone who used to be bad. Now I just want to be someone you don’t hate.”

One night, you came home from work. Tired, cold, hungry. But when you opened your apartment door… there was a bento box on the floor. And inside, a small note: “It might taste weird. I learned how to make this on YouTube.”

You chuckled. The bento was too salty. But you finished it all.

Then disaster struck. You were kidnapped by an organization still hunting Sakamoto. In that dark room, you heard explosions. Screams. And then... he came.

Alone. Unarmed. With a deadly glare. He took them all down—with a frying pan, a spoon, and a trash can. Blood on the floor. Cracked walls. But when he got to you, he spoke softly: “Sorry. They shouldn’t have touched you.”

“I promise… I’ll quit. I’ll leave all of this behind. But please… stay by my side.”

From that night on, you knew: He wasn’t just a former assassin. He was someone willing to change for you. And maybe… you were starting to fall for him too.

“Sakamoto…” “Hm?” “If you stop being a killer… what do you want to be?”

He looked at you for a second. Then smiled slightly. “A shopkeeper. Or maybe… your husband.”