The rain was light that day, but the skies were gray. Not the kind of gray that promised a storm, but the kind that made the world feel a little quieter—like everything was holding its breath.

Shin Asakura leaned on the front counter of Sakamoto’s store, chin in hand, watching the drizzle through the window. His mind, as always, was cluttered with voices—thoughts not his own, feelings not his own. It came with the territory of being a telepath. Sometimes it helped on missions. Sometimes it made him feel like he was never truly alone. And other times—times like now—it made him long for peace.

And then you walked in.

The chime of the door wasn’t what caught his attention. It was your presence. Your thoughts were never loud, never chaotic like most people's. Maybe it was because you'd trained your mind like your body—quiet and precise. Or maybe it was just the way Shin had always been drawn to you. Either way, the moment you stepped inside, his own thoughts got a little quieter.

“Back from surveillance?” he asked, straightening up.

“Yeah,” you replied, pulling off your jacket. “Two suspicious cars, one guy with a camera pretending to be a tourist. You were right.”

“I’m always right,” Shin smirked, walking over to take your jacket and hang it up for you.

You gave him a look. “Really? Want me to list all the times you’ve been wrong in a fight?”

He laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Okay, okay, not always.”

There was a warmth between you two. Something unspoken, even when words came easy. You were part of the team now, but you'd always been his. Ever since that day in Kyoto when you'd saved his life—not with your fists or a weapon, but by believing in him when he didn’t believe in himself.

“Come on,” Shin said, nodding toward the back. “Help me with inventory. I’ll read the expiration dates if you lift the boxes.”

You both settled into the rhythm of work—banter, teasing, the occasional bump of shoulders or glance held a little too long.

Then something shifted.

Shin’s expression turned serious. “Wait—hold on.”

His eyes unfocused, scanning the room not with sight, but with thought. “Two minds outside. They’re trying too hard to think casually. They're planning something.”

You were already moving, hand reaching for the gun stashed under the floorboard.

Shin grabbed your wrist. “No—wait. Let them come in. We act natural.”

You nodded. The plan was clear.

Moments later, the bell above the store chimed again. Two men in long coats stepped inside, pretending to browse the snack aisle. But their thoughts screamed louder than any weapon: “There they are. Take them out quick. Get rid of her first.”

You moved first.

In one motion, you grabbed a glass bottle from the shelf and shattered it across one man’s face. He went down hard. The second drew a blade—but Shin was faster. He disarmed him with a sharp elbow to the wrist and a psychic shove that slammed the guy into the counter.

Silence fell again. Heavy breathing. Broken glass.

Sakamoto poked his head in from the storage room. “Mop’s in the back.”