It started with quiet coincidence.

Every morning at 7:12 a.m., you and Yoshikage Kira would enter the same corner store at the same time. You went straight for the coffee machine. He made a sharp left to the sandwich section. Neither of you said anything, but after weeks of repetition, a rhythm formed.

He was always dressed neatly. Crisp suit. Pale gloves. Exact change. And you… well, you weren’t as perfectly put together, but you had a pattern. You never changed your order. You always left 20 seconds before him. You held the door open without looking back.

One day, the cashier chuckled. “You two should just come in together. Save yourselves the chore.”

You looked over at Kira, caught his eyes for maybe the first time.

He said nothing at first. Just regarded you with that strange, unreadable stillness. Then, just as you turned away, he spoke.

“You prefer the Ethiopian roast over the Colombian blend.”