Haru's words were cut off when the store door slammed open. Both of them snapped towards the sound. Something clicked... as they remained frozen in place.
"Give me all the money now!"
The man's voice sliced through the air—sharp, impatient. The gun was already raised, aimed straight at them. Haru's breath hitched. His fingers stiffened, caught between instinct and panic. Hand over the money… or—
He flicked a glance toward Yue.
Her knees buckled, barely holding her up, her whole body shaking as if the floor itself had turned unstable.
Haru looked back at the man. The gun jerked toward the cash drawer, then swung back to his chest.
The message was clear. Realizing he needs to make a decision now.
He flinched.
"Hurry up and get all the money in the bag now!"
The robber barked another order, his head snapping toward the door—then back at Haru. Again. Again.
That's when Haru noticed it.
He glanced at Yue once more. She stood exposed, unmoving, fear locking her in place. If anything happened, she wouldn't be fast enough. She wouldn't be ready.
Something hardened in his chest. One man. One gun.
He steadied his breathing and waited—eyes tracking the robber, counting the seconds, searching for the smallest opening.
"Can't you fucking hea—"
The gunshot cracked through the store, the sound exploding off the walls as the bullet tore into the ceiling.
Haru had forced the barrel upward at the last second.
He refused to let go. The robber snarled and struck back, hands clawing for control as they grappled for the gun. Their bodies slammed together, shoes scraping across the tile.
He wasn't weaker than the man—but he knew it wouldn't last. His arms burned. His grip was slipping.
Then—
The robber vaulted over the counter.
Haru lost his balance. The floor rushed up beneath him as they crashed down together, the weight of the man slamming into his chest.
Pinned. Still, Haru didn't release the gun.
"Call the police!"
Haru shouted the words through clenched teeth.
Yue didn't move.
She stood frozen, eyes locked on the two bodies twisting on the floor. Her chest hitched. Her legs refused to respond. Fear rooted her in place.
No—
She forced herself forward.
Her knees shook as she stood, vision blurring as she turned toward the staff room. One step. Then another. Every movement felt wrong, slow, loud.
She was almost there—
The gun fired again.
The sound ripped through the store. Yue crumpled instantly, her legs giving out beneath her as she hit the floor, breath knocked from her lungs.
Haru felt it too.
His strength was draining. His arms trembled. His grip faltered.
Then adrenaline surged—raw, desperate, violent. He pushed with everything he had left, strength tearing out of him beyond anything he'd ever used before.
And then—
The gun fired.
Both of them went still.
Silence swallowed the store.
"H-Haru…?"
Yue's voice barely carried.
The silence didn't answer.
Tears dropped.
Blood— too much of it—soaking into his clothes.
"HARU!"
The scream tore out of her, raw and broken. He wasn't moving.
Her chest collapsed in on itself.
Moments crashed through her mind—his voice, his presence, the ordinary seconds they'd shared—stacking, overlapping
...
"Hey, come on! Help me reach that!"
Yue's voice echoed from another time.
Haru reached up and pulled the box down for her, barely looking.
"If you're that small," he said, "then just grow."
She pouted, then laughed, punching his stomach with mock anger. He barely reacted.
Another memory slipped in.
The coffee—her favorite, still warm when he handed it to her. The way he never said anything about it, just watched her take the first sip.
Then another.
His silence. The handkerchief pressed gently into her trembling hands while she cried, no questions asked.
One moment folded into the next. Every small kindness. Every ordinary second.
Light spilled across her vision.
Someone laughed.
"Lucky you didn't drop the eggs."
Him. Back then. Smiling like nothing bad could ever touch them.
Yue immediately wrapped her arms around him.
Haru froze.
Blood stained his hands. Dark. Sticky. Real.
She hugged him tighter. Slowly, he lowered his arms around her.
"It's okay now…"
Haru's voice was low, unsteady—but meant for her as he guided her toward the staff room. Somewhere in the distance, sirens wailed, growing louder far faster than either of them expected.
Somebody else already reported the incident.
Red and blue lights spilled across the storefront.
The door burst open. Officers poured in, voices clipped, commands overlapping but precise.
"SHOW YOUR HANDS. NOW."
Haru didn't resist. his arms were pulled behind him. Metal snapped shut around his wrists.
Yue cried out, her voice breaking as she tried to reach him.
"No—wait—he—!"
No one listened.
Paramedics rushed in moments later. Gloves. Gauze. Bright lights. Blood was wiped from Haru's face, and his uniform. He stayed awake through all of it, eyes unfocused, breathing shallow.
Across the room, the robber's body was covered with a white sheet.
Just like that. Haru watched.
He didn't say a word.
Minutes after the incident, they took him to the station.
The room was cold. Too bright.
The questioning went on for hours.
The same questions.
Again. And again.
Who attacked first?
Where were you standing?
Did you have a chance to run?
Haru's answers never shifted.
The robber had a gun.
He was cornered.
Yue was behind him.
Nothing else mattered.
When the questions stopped, they detained him.
Time stretched.
Minutes passed without sound. Without answers.
Then the investigator returned—with the footage.
The security cameras showed everything. The gun, clear in the robber's hand. The struggle—messy, frantic, desperate. No pursuit. No excess. The moment the threat dropped, so did the violence.
Self-defense. Pure survival. He had protected their lives.
And the money meant nothing compared to that.
Still, Haru could only wait.
The next morning, an officer took Yue's statement. Her hands shook. Her voice wavered—but her words never broke. Every detail matched Haru's account. Perfectly.
Later, the medical examiner's report came in.
One bullet to the head. Nothing more.
Days passed. Then weeks.
Yue waited. Every day, every night, she stayed patient.
Haru felt the time differently. Each night dragged something out of him. Sleep didn't restore anything. It only reset the exhaustion. The hours piled up, heavy and dull, until feeling anything at all took effort.
Then, quietly, the decision came.
No charges.
Justified self-defense.
The officer who delivered the words didn't smile. Didn't offer comfort. He only nodded—once—as if acknowledging something that couldn't be undone.
Haru nodded back.
Nothing needed to be said.
He walked out of the station alone.
He looked up at the night sky, exhaustion pressing down on him. Then he went home.
The silence of the apartment met him at the door. He opened the fridge and settled for whatever was left. Meat hit the pan. The smell filled the room, thick and ordinary, clinging to the air as he ate without tasting it.
The incident crept back in.
He couldn't accept it. Not fully. That a life had ended by his hands—no matter the reason.
His phone buzzed.
"Hello…"
His voice came out muffled, mouth still full.
"I just got the news. Are you home? Are you okay?" —Yue.
She paced as she spoke, chewing on her nail, waiting on the other end of the line.
"I'm fine. Don't worry," Haru said. "Yeah. I'm resting at my apartment." He paused, then added, "See you tomorrow."
The tension in her voice eased.
"I see... it's good to hear, well then see you tomorrow. Goodnight."
The call ended.
Yue sank into her armchair and pulled a pillow into her chest. Her thoughts circled, restless and unfinished.
What could she do to ease his mind?
How could she help him?
Time slipped past without her noticing. Eventually, still searching for an answer, she fell asleep.
The clock crept past 3 a.m.
Water filled the glass, the sound too loud in the quiet room. Cold air slipped in through the open window, brushing against Haru's skin as he sat on the couch, unmoving. His thoughts refused to settle. One bled into another, keeping him awake.
He turned toward the window.
"Why… what did I do," he whispered, "for my life to end up like this?"
The words fell flat, hollow.
Hope felt distant. Fragile. He didn't know how much longer he could hold on.
His money barely covered the basics. The apartment had nothing extra—only what was needed to survive each day. And even that was slipping. Rent unpaid. Months forgiven out of patience, not kindness.
The letter waited in his memory. One month ago.
Final notice. Left at his door by the landlord himself.
He knew there would be no more chances.
Despair settled in, heavy and suffocating. He couldn't see a way forward. Couldn't imagine how he would survive what was coming next.
"Dad… Mom…" His voice broke. "I miss you."
Tears slid down his face as the wind stirred the curtains. Moonlight spilled across the wall, pale and quiet—resting on a portrait hanging there.
Outside his window, the stars glittered faintly against the night sky.
Then one of them vanished. Another followed.
Then three more—snuffed out without sound.
Something small and black drifted past the window, carried by the wind. It didn't fall. It floated. Thin sparks crackled around it, brief flashes of electricity snapping and fading in the dark.
Gone as quickly as it appeared.
Morning arrived. The sun lit the sky, spilling pale light across the street.
The scanner beeped one after another as the store door opened.
Yue froze at the sound. Haru stepped in, shoulders heavy, eyes distant. She felt the weight of him before he spoke—and for a moment, she stopped herself from saying anything she might regret.
He moved to the staff room, slipping into his uniform, then began restocking and helping, his movements precise but quiet. He didn't speak. He barely exhaled.
Yue watched him from some distance. Then she stepped forward and placed a bottle of water in front of him.
They paused. Time stretched. Then Haru reached for it.
"Thank you," he said. His voice was low, tired.
Yue offered a small, simple smile.
She turned to leave, hoping, somehow, that it might make even the tiniest difference in the weight he carried.
She glanced at the clock. Almost lunch break.
Deciding to prepare his favorite noodles and drink, she worked quickly. Minutes later, the food was ready. Without hesitation, she grabbed his hand and guided him to the counter.
Haru froze for a moment at her sudden action—but said nothing, letting her lead him.
He sat, eyes falling on the food. His favorite. A small, almost imperceptible warmth touched him. Yue slid into the seat beside him.
"Let's eat, before it gets cold,"
she said, her smile warmer than before.
Haru simply nodded.
He watched her as she ate—noisy little bites, spilling a bit, entirely absorbed. She looked like a kid, carefree for the first time in weeks. Embarrassed, he looked away and focused on his own food.
When they finished, Yue cleaned up. Haru offered to help, but she shook her head. He could only watch.
"Thanks for the food," he said, voice soft but sincere.
She glanced at him, smiling gently in return.
Haru exhaled, letting it settle. Then he turned back to his work, diving into what needed to be done.