The soft smell of miso drifted through the shop's upstairs room. Axamu stretched, wincing at the dull ache that still lingered in his body, then dragged himself down to breakfast.
The boss sat at the table, smiling warmly as always, while his daughter scribbled notes into a ledger. The small scene felt calm. Too calm.
"Morning, Axamu," the boss said.
"Morning…" Axamu muttered, sliding into his seat.
For a while, they ate in silence. Chopsticks clicked, the clock ticked, pages rustled. But as Axamu chewed, a thought came to him like a stone in his chest.
Three months… and I never even asked their names.
He set his bowl down, rubbing his neck awkwardly. "Hey, Boss. I know it's late to ask but… what's your name? And yours too," he added, glancing at the daughter.
The boss chuckled lightly. "My name? It's—"
And suddenly—
The world cracked.
The sound warped into a static hiss. The boss's voice stretched into an impossible distortion, glitching between tones.
"—zzkkhhhhh—"
The room around him twisted—walls flickering, edges blurring, like a broken screen. For a second, the boss's face became a smudge of shifting noise, his daughter's figure stuttering between frames like a corrupted recording.
Then, in a blink—
It was gone.
The boss smiled again, perfectly normal, as if nothing had happened. "—and don't forget to restock the parts later, alright?"
Axamu froze, breath caught in his throat. The chopsticks slipped from his fingers, clattering against the table.
"…Huh?" he muttered.
The daughter looked at him briefly, raising an eyebrow. "Something wrong?"
He shook his head quickly, forcing a laugh. "N-no… just spaced out."
But his chest was tight. His heart pounded too fast. What the hell was that?
He swallowed, trying to calm down. Maybe it was the lack of sleep. Maybe he was still exhausted from before. His mind must've just… tricked him.
Yeah… I'm imagining things. Just my head playing games with me.
Still, even as he picked his chopsticks back up and forced himself to eat.
---
The day rolled forward as usual. After finishing breakfast with the boss and his daughter, Axamu busied himself in the shop. He arranged racks of parts, polished display cases, and checked stock lists. The familiar rhythm calmed him—like each small task anchored him back to normal life.
Before long, the sound of hurried footsteps filled the air. The same group of kids from before came rushing in, their faces beaming with excitement.
"Axamu-nii! Show us again!"
"Yeah, yeah! That special trick you did yesterday!"
"Please! Please!"
Axamu chuckled, scratching his cheek awkwardly. "Alright, alright. Don't get too loud, or the boss'll think I'm running a daycare here."
The kids giggled as he pulled out the shop's practice Beyblade, Hawk Eyes, and set it up. He demonstrated launch techniques, explained the balance of parts—the Blade, Ratchet, and Bit—and showed how mixing them could create endless combinations.
The children watched with wide eyes, hanging on his every word.
"See? If you tighten the Ratchet like this, you get more stamina. But if you change to this part—" he swapped pieces swiftly, "—you can focus on attack. Every combo has a story."
The kids clapped and cheered, their smiles warming something inside him.
But then—
The door creaked open.
Axamu looked up.
Someone stepped inside. A tall figure in a dark hoodie, mask covering their face. Their presence was heavy, quiet—the kind that made the air colder just by existing.
Still holding Hawk Eyes in his hand, Axamu put on his customer smile. "Welcome! May I help you find something?"
The hooded figure said nothing.
They just… stared. Straight at Axamu.
A prickle ran down his spine. The kids shifted uneasily, whispering to one another.
He forced another polite tone. "Uh… is there anything in particular you're looking for?"
Silence.
The man didn't move. Didn't browse. Didn't even glance at the shelves. His gaze stayed locked on Axamu, sharp and unsettling behind the mask.
And then—just as suddenly—he turned and walked out. The bell above the door jingled, the sound oddly hollow in the stillness that followed.
Axamu stood frozen, Hawk Eyes trembling slightly in his grip. "…What was that about?"
The kids murmured, confused but quick to be distracted again, tugging at his sleeve to continue the lesson.
---
The evening bell rang across the district as Axamu stacked the last display boxes back onto the shelf. He wiped the counters, swept the floor, and locked up the shop with a soft click.
"Another day done," he muttered, stretching his sore shoulders.
The boss was waiting at the door, smiling. "Come on, dinner's ready."
Together with the boss's daughter, they sat down around the low table. A warm meal spread between them—grilled fish, rice, miso soup. The kind of simple food that carried a quiet comfort.
Axamu picked at his bowl slowly, his mind drifting. The glitch at breakfast… that masked man staring at me like he knew something… He tightened his grip on the chopsticks. So many weird things in just one day. What's going on with me?
"Axamu," the boss's voice broke through his thoughts, gentle but firm. "You okay? You've been staring at your plate for a while now."
The boss's daughter tilted her head. "Yeah, you look like your mind's somewhere else."
Caught off guard, Axamu blinked—then quickly forced a smile. "Ah—no, I'm fine. Just… tired from the day, I guess."
The boss studied him for a second longer, but then gave a small nod. "Alright. Don't push yourself too hard."
Dinner passed with lighter conversation, though Axamu only half-heard it. His heart was heavy, the unease still curling inside his chest.
Later, when the dishes were cleared, he retreated upstairs to his small room. He lay down on the futon, staring up at the wooden ceiling.
"Glitches… and masked men… " he whispered to himself.
He closed his eyes, forcing his thoughts to quiet. "Boss has a daughter now… the shop is busy… I should just be grateful. Just sleep."
He pulled the blanket up and let his breathing slow, trying to bury the unease beneath exhaustion.
---
BANG! BANG! BANG!
The thunderous pounding on the shutters ripped Axamu from his sleep. His eyes snapped open, his heart racing.
What the—? Who would be here in the middle of the night?
He stumbled out of his futon, rushing down the stairs. The boss was already there, lantern flickering in his hand, his daughter pale and clutching his sleeve.
The pounding stopped as suddenly as it started. Silence swallowed the shop.
"Who… who could that be at this hour?" the daughter whispered, her voice trembling.
Axamu forced his legs to move. He swallowed hard and unlocked the shutter. It screeched as he lifted it just enough to peek outside.
The street was empty, bathed in eerie moonlight. No footsteps. No voices. Nothing.
Then—he spotted it.
A folded note lying on the ground.
His stomach dropped. Slowly, he bent down, fingers trembling as he picked it up and unfolded it. His eyes raced across the words.
> "I got the kids. If you value them, come to this place."
An address was scrawled beneath in messy, jagged ink.
Axamu froze. His breath caught in his throat.
The kids… the ones who come every day… the ones who laugh, who call me "big brother"…
His chest tightened painfully.
"Axamu?" The boss's voice broke the silence. "What does it say?"
The daughter stepped forward, anxious. "Is it something bad? Tell us."
Axamu's hand shook as he gripped the note tighter. His mouth opened, but no words came out.
Instead, his thoughts screamed.
No… no, not them. I can't let this happen. If anything happens to them—
"Axamu?" the boss pressed, his voice sharper now.
Axamu's lips trembled, but nothing escaped. His body moved on its own. He crumpled the note in his fist—
—and bolted.
"Axamu?!" the boss shouted, lantern swinging wildly. "Wait, where are you going?!"
"Wait! At least tell us what's happening!" the daughter voice breaking.
But he didn't look back. He couldn't.
His legs pounded against the cobblestones, each stride heavier, faster. The cold air burned his lungs, but his grip on the note only tightened.
I won't lose them. I won't let whoever did this hurt them.
His heart hammered like a war drum.
They're just kids… innocent kids who just wanted to play…
Boss's voice echoed faintly behind him:
"AXAMU!"
Still, he kept running.
Please… please, let me be in time…
The empty streets stretched endlessly ahead. But Axamu didn't stop.
Not when their lives depended on him.