Inside the convenience store, the sterile chill of the refrigerated section intermingled with the buttery warmth of the bakery, creating a complex atmospheric texture. Koudo Ikusei's selection was staggering, a consumer's paradise designed to test the limits of a student's self-control.
Kamuro Masumi moved through the aisles, her purple hair cascading over her shoulders. Her expression was a mask of indifference, but a subtle, frantic restlessness lurked in the depths of her eyes. She approached the back of the store, her gaze fixing on the fine condensation blurring the glass of the drink cabinets.
Through the mist, the outlines of canned beers were visible. The vivid No Alcohol for Minors sign pierced her vision like a challenge. Her fingertips traced the cold glass, her heart beginning a slow, heavy thud against her ribs.
It was the old, familiar thrill from her junior high days—a vine of impulse coiling around her logic. It wasn't about the alcohol. It was about the secret rush of the theft, the absolute control of taking something forbidden and getting away with it.
Pick it up... put it in your bag... it only takes a second.The clerk is busy... no one is looking... it's the perfect opportunity.
A bead of cold sweat broke out on her forehead. Just as she prepared to reach for the handle, her peripheral vision snagged on a figure across the aisle at the deli station.
Sakamoto.
Kamuro's gaze sharpened. She watched as Sakamoto—still balancing his bar of soap, toothbrush, and shampoo in his left hand with the grace of a priest—leaned over the free taste-testing tray. In his right hand, he held a small bamboo fork.
He speared a single slice of sausage, but he didn't eat it immediately. He held the fork up to the light, scrutinizing the processed meat as if it were a miniature work of art. Finally, he brought it to his mouth, chewing with a leisurely, focused intensity that suggested he was dining at a Michelin-starred restaurant rather than standing in a convenience store.
Kamuro felt a surge of absurdity. This boy, the mysterious variable of Class A who seemed to have deciphered the school's secrets, was spendng his afternoon taste-testing free sausages? The sheer coolness of his demeanor in such a mundane setting was hypnotic.
The confusion gave way to her own darker impulse. She took a deep breath, forced herself to move, and circled the store aimlessly to shake the feeling of being watched. Her mind was a chaotic blur of Sakamoto's calm face and the cold cans in the fridge.
Reason finally snapped.
She returned to the cabinet. In one fluid, practiced motion, she pulled the door open, grabbed the white-packaged can in the corner, and slid it into her shoulder bag. The cold metal made her fingers tremble.
Click. The zipper closed. She walked toward the checkout with a practiced, natural stride. At the counter, she placed a carton of milk and a rice ball on the belt.
"Two hundred points, please," the cashier said.
Kamuro tapped her phone. Beep. Payment successful. She gripped her bag, the weight of the stolen can pressing against her hip, and turned to leave.
"Student, please wait a moment."
The voice was clear, gentle, and possessed a quiet authority that stopped Kamuro in her tracks. She slowly turned, her purple eyes flashing with a defensive sharpness.
Sakamoto stood a few paces behind her. He still held his "free" toiletries like sacred relics. But in his right hand, he now held a can. A white-packaged can with a simple design—almost identical to the one she had just stolen.
Kamuro's heart sank. Was I caught? He's that fast? She tightened her grip on her bag, preparing for the fallout. A report to the faculty? Public embarrassment? She began calculating her exit strategy.
Sakamoto's face showed no accusation, only a serene, benevolent concern. His gaze fell on her shoulder bag.
"Your bag," he said, his voice steady. "It seems you've forgotten to pay for an item."
Kamuro didn't bother to lie. If she was caught red-handed, an argument would only make it worse. She reached into her bag to produce the beer, ready to end the charade. But as her fingers closed around the metal, she felt something strange. The texture of the label was different.
She pulled the can out. It was white, yes—but the beer logo was gone. In its place was a vibrant fruit illustration and the text: 100% Natural Mixed Fruit Juice (Non-Alcoholic).
Juice?
Kamuro froze. The indifferent mask shattered completely, leaving only raw astonishment. She had been so sure. She had seen the beer. She had grabbed it. How?
She looked up at Sakamoto. He was looking at her with a faint, almost imperceptible curve at the corner of his mouth. He said nothing, but he offered a subtle nod toward the can in her hand, then glanced at the identical can in his own.
The realization hit her like a physical blow. He swapped them.
While she had been wandering the aisles in a panic, he had moved with such silent, impossible speed that he had replaced the beer in the fridge with juice, knowing exactly what she intended to do. He hadn't exposed her; he had saved her. He had converted her crime into a simple mistake, protecting her reputation before she could even ruin it.
"This... also checkout," Kamuro stammered, handing the juice to the cashier. Her voice carried a faint tremor.
"Of course. That will be three hundred points total now."
Beep. Payment successful.
Kamuro gathered her things and headed for the exit, her mind a whirlwind of terror and gratitude. Just as she pushed through the door, Sakamoto's voice reached her once more, as light as a breeze.
"Minors should not indulge in alcohol."
He paused, and she could almost hear the smile in his voice. "Next time, let us enjoy some juice together."
Kamuro didn't look back. She pushed out into the bustling afternoon street, the warm air hitting her face. She stood by the roadside, her purple hair whipped by the wind, and felt a sudden, uncontrollable heat rising to her cheeks.
"Drink juice... together?" she whispered.
Under the bright spring sun, her eyes reflected a chaotic spectrum of emotion—lingering fear, embarrassment, and a tiny, quiet flutter in her chest that she wasn't yet ready to name.