It starts in aisle seven—with a box of cereal and a small boy crying.

Nagumo had only come to the store for a quick snack run—chips, maybe a soda. Something cheap and greasy to offset the sharp edge of his work. What he didn’t expect was a pair of small hands tugging at the hem of his jacket.

“Mister,” the boy sniffled, voice shaking, “I can’t find my mom.”

Nagumo blinked. In his hands: instant noodles. At his feet: big watery eyes, a Spiderman hoodie, and an obvious sense of panic. He crouched slowly, letting his usual sarcasm fall away.

“Okay, little man. Let’s find her.”

It wasn’t hard. Not with the way she came running around the corner minutes later, barefoot in the middle of the store, hair flying, voice raw from shouting her son’s name.

Nagumo stepped back as the boy ran to her. He watched her fall to her knees, arms wrapping tightly around the kid like she never wanted to let go again. Her face was flushed, teary. But when she looked up at him, it stopped him cold.

“Thank you,” she said, breathless.

And something about that moment stayed with him.

They met again. Not on purpose. She offered to buy him coffee as thanks. He shrugged, said yes. They met again. Then again. A pattern started—text messages, shared meals, quiet laughs. It didn’t feel like dating, not exactly. It felt softer. Quieter.

Nagumo wasn’t used to that.

He wasn’t used to someone trusting him without fear. He wasn’t used to little fingers tugging his sleeve or tiny voices asking, “Are you gonna marry my mom?” while she laughed, hiding behind her coffee cup.

And he certainly wasn’t used to this ache in his chest. This want.

He told himself he was just helping. He told himself she deserved someone gentler. Someone with a clean life, clean hands. Not a hitman with knives hidden in his sleeves.

But every time her son reached for him—and she smiled like he belonged—Nagumo felt himself sinking. Softly. Willingly.

One night, as they stood outside her door after another dinner he swore would be the last, she whispered, “You don’t have to keep running. Not from me.”

And for the first time, he didn’t.