Chapter Text
Mine moved through his days with quiet precision. Mornings began before sunrise, the smell of salt and seaweed drifting in through the open window from the sea that was close to the shop. He began each morning by sweeping the floors of the convenience store below his apartment. The regulars didn’t care who he was or where he came from, and that suited him fine.
He stocked shelves, organized deliveries, and manned the register with a practiced neutrality, nodding politely to the few customers who made small talk. No one asked questions, and Mine made sure to keep it that way. He also kept a polite demeanour but never got too close to anybody, not even locals or regulars. Even his apartment was bare, a few essentials, a small bookshelf of novels he’d never finish, and a single photo of the one who has his heart.
Afternoons were spent wandering the coastline when the store was quiet. He would walk along the rocky shore, listening to the waves crash, letting the wind whip his hair which had gotten quite long but he had no energy to maintain his looks. He usually lets the solitude remind him that he was alive, that he had survived. He rarely spoke to anyone, and the occasional stray cat or gull was enough companionship.
At night, Mine cooked simple meals and watched the horizon from his balcony, the neon signs of the distant town reflecting faintly on the water. He read, he cleaned, he planned nothing, because to plan meant to hope, and hope was dangerous.
And yet, as he lay awake in the dim light of his apartment, Mine could feel the past pressing in. The ghost of his past love, of the life he’d abandoned, lingered in every shadow, every creaking floorboard, every flicker of movement beyond the balcony. He had run from the world, but he could not run from himself.
He thought of him more often than he cared to admit. That man, who had walked into his life like sunlight breaking through storm clouds. That man, who carried burdens too heavy for anyone to bear, and yet still managed to smile in a way that made Mine believe, if only for a moment, that loyalty, trust, and tenderness could exist in their world.
How could he have raised a gun to that light? How could he have come so close to extinguishing the only thing that had made his life feel less hollow?
The nights now were cold, not because of the sea breeze, but because they were empty. The laughter he sometimes thought he heard in the hallways was nothing more than memory. The warmth of a presence beside him, the quiet strength, the steady gaze, the gentle weight of being known, had become an ache carved into his chest.
Mine closed his eyes, but sleep brought no relief. He saw that smile, that beautiful nose, and those eyes, that trust he had betrayed. He saw what he’d almost done, and worse, what he’d lost by running.
The truth gnawed at him like the tide eroding stone: the world had dimmed the moment he left that man behind. And no matter how quiet, how safe, how carefully constructed this life was, it would never shine the way it once had when he was near.
All he could do in these moments was hold back the tears that threatened to escape, pressing the heel of his hand against his eyes as if sheer willpower could dam them. He reminded himself, again and again, that it was better this way. Better that he had disappeared. Better that he had walked away before he caused more harm.
This way, his light was safe. Untouched by the shadow Mine had become. Perhaps, in his absence, that man had found peace, maybe even happiness. He clung to that fragile image, though it twisted like a knife in his chest: the thought of the one who had once lit up his world smiling without him, living without him.
It hurt more than any bullet, any blade, any fall from grace ever could. But pain was the price of love squandered, and regret was the punishment for a heart too cowardly to face what it wanted most. So Mine endured the silence, endured the ache, convincing himself that as long as his light was safe, no matter how bleak his own life had become, it was enough.
___
The store bell chimed, its ring cutting through the hum of the refrigerator units. Mine glanced up from behind the counter, expecting one of the usual faces, the fisherman who always smelled of diesel, or the elderly woman who bought her lottery tickets at the same time every morning.
Instead, six unfamiliar figures filed inside, the air around them loud with laughter and the kind of restless energy that only tourists carried.
“Man, I told you guys this place had snacks! Jackpot!” the tall, spiky-haired one announced as if he’d just discovered buried treasure. His voice boomed in the small store, startling Mine enough that his hands stiffened on the countertop.
The others fanned out quickly: a sharp-eyed woman in heels that didn’t belong anywhere near sand, a lanky man with tired eyes already scanning the instant noodles, another with graying hair and a detective’s gait who muttered something about beer. Two more trailed behind, one quiet, composed with an edge Mine couldn’t place, and a woman with sleek brown hair.
They looked completely out of place in this sleepy seaside town. But, while he waited for them as they shopped, he made it a point to try to listen for all their names to put a face to it. He learned these sorts of tricks while he worked in organized crime, it was always good to stay vigilant around all the people around you.
He tried not to make it obvious as he listened to their conversations but that wasn't too difficult due to the volume they were speaking at.
“Jackpot? It’s a corner store, Ichiban.” The graying man, Adachi, grumbled, pulling a basket from the stack by the door. “Don’t act like you just found the Fountain of Youth.”
“Oh, hush. Be nice, it's his first time living too,” Saeko breezed past him, letting a soft laugh leave her lips. Her heels clicked against the worn floorboards. “I’m buying drinks before you get all the cheap stuff and leave me nothing but warm soda.”
Nanba yawned, already wandering toward the noodle aisle. “Man, they’ve got cup yakisoba here. Haven’t had that in forever… Think I can eat this on the beach? Or is sand gonna get in the broth?”
Joongi, who hadn’t moved far from the entrance, folded his arms. “You could manage to spill broth in the desert, Nanba. Maybe stick to something less… liquid. How will you even heat them up on the beach?”
“Ha! Already got that planned, I'll just walk back here when I want to eat so it'll be warm and ready for me,” Nanba laughed as he grabbed two cups anyway. Joongi could only follow Nanba around hoping he wouldn't pick up more noodle cups.
The last of them, Seonhee, was more deliberate, her eyes flicking across the shelves with sharp precision. She picked up neatly packaged boxes of food, setting them in Adachi’s basket without a word.
At the counter, Ichiban leaned forward with a grin. “Hey, you run this place? Nice little shop. Right by the beach too. That’s prime real estate!”
Mine forced a thin smile, his tone even. “It’s convenient.”
“Convenient, yeah,” Ichiban agreed. “So, what’s the go-to snack around here?”
“The onigiri,” Mine said, gesturing toward the cooler. “And bottled tea.”
“Sweet, let’s get those.” Ichiban waved at the others. “Grab some rice balls, gang. We’ll need fuel for swimming.”
Adachi returned with his basket already full. “Swimming? You mean standing waist-deep and screaming like a kid when the waves hit you? ’Cause that’s all I remember you doing last time.”
“Hey!” Ichiban turned, indignant. “I was testing the current!”
“Sure,” Saeko muttered, plucking a cold bottle from the cooler. “Testing it by flailing like a drowned crab.”
Nanba snorted so hard he almost dropped his noodles. “Oh my god, he did look like a crab.”
Ichiban slapped his hands on the counter, startling Mine. He said while pouting, “I thought you guys had my back!”
“We do. Just not against the truth," Joongi raised an eyebrow with a soft smile.
Seonhee’s lips curved into the faintest smile as she added another snack pack to the pile. “He’s right. You should accept your limitations.”
Ichiban groaned. “You’re all killin’ me.”
Mine scanned the pile of items as they reached the counter, his expression unmoved, though the corners of his mouth threatened to twitch at their banter. It reminded him of a time long ago. He bagged their purchases with efficient precision.
“Sorry for barging in like this,and getting so much stuff,” Ichiban said brightly. “We’re just heading to the beach out front. Didn’t think we’d find a shop this close!”
Mine nodded, sliding the last of their snacks into the bag. “It happens often. Enjoy your trip.”
Ichiban beamed. “We will. Hey, have you ever headed down to the beach yourself?”
“Sometimes,” Mine answered, the word clipped but polite.
“Lucky,” Saeko said, adjusting her sunglasses. “If I lived here, I’d be down there every evening with a cocktail in hand.”
“Yeah, but you’d need someone to carry you home,” Adachi asked.
“You volunteering, old man?” Saeko shot back.
Their bickering carried them out the door, with a trail of laughter in their words. Ichiban called a cheerful “Thanks again!” as the bell jingled behind them.
"I wonder if the others will be coming soon," Seonhee said to Joongi who was eating an ice cream that Adachi had gotten for him.
"Hmm," was all Joongi let out before stuffing his face with the ice cream. "It is still quite sad that Zhao-san was unable to come with us on this trip."
"Yeah, but he's starting his restaurant franchise so it's taking a lot of time out of his day," Seonhee stated as they walked off.
Silence returned as quickly as it had been broken.
Mine stood still for a long moment, staring at the empty doorway, the echoes of their voices still bouncing in his head.
Strangers. Just passing through.
And yet… there was something about them. Something too loud, too alive, too familiar.
They didn’t look like ordinary tourists.
The shop settled back into its usual rhythm, the faint buzz of the refrigerator units and the distant crash of waves filling the silence they’d left behind. Mine set the empty basket back in its place, his hands moving automatically, but his thoughts lingered stubbornly on the strangers.
He told himself it was nothing. Just another group of tourists killing time before heading back to the city. But when he drifted toward the window, cloth in hand to polish said window, that didn’t need it, his eyes betrayed him.
Outside, the six of them had claimed a patch of beach as if it belonged to them.
Ichiban was already waist-deep in the surf, shouting triumphantly at no one in particular, arms flailing in what might have been a swimming attempt, or a struggle against the tide. Saeko sat cross-legged on a beach towel, sunglasses tilted just enough to watch him with smug amusement. Nanba, predictably, had plopped himself on the sand with his instant noodles, grumbling as he tried to keep grains of sand from flying into the cup whenever the wind shifted.
Adachi was halfway through a can of beer, gesturing animatedly as if telling some ridiculous story, while Joongi, calm, sharp, and impossibly unbothered, was making… a beautiful sandcastle? That was unexpected. And finally, Seonhee, elegant even on the sand, leaned back on her arms, letting the breeze tug at her hair as though she were entirely at home here.
Their laughter carried through the glass, muffled but unmistakable, a warm, chaotic rhythm Mine hadn’t heard in years.
He lingered there too long, cloth pressed absently against the window, eyes fixed on the scene. It was absurd, really, watching strangers enjoy themselves as if it meant something. But something about them unsettled him. The ease of their banter, the way they moved like they’d been through fire together and come out laughing on the other side.
He had always yearned for a bond like that but he wasn't too fond of anyone's company. That was until him–
Mine's thought was interrupted when he heard the bell above the door jingled, soft but sharp against the quiet of the shop.
Mine straightened automatically, his hands folded neatly on the counter. He expected a local again, but instead, the tired-eyed man, Nanba, he recalled, slouched back inside, brushing sand off his shorts.
“Yo,” Nanba greeted, voice low and casual. He glanced over his shoulder like he’d made sure the others weren’t following him. “Uh… you got any ice? Ichiban thought he could keep the beers cold by burying ‘em in the sand. Real genius move, huh?”
Mine blinked once, then bent to open the cooler beneath the counter. “Ice is in bags by the freezer. Back corner.”
“Sweet. Thanks, man.” Nanba shuffled off, muttering under his breath, “Sand fridge… who even thinks that’ll work…”
The bag crinkled as he pulled one free, carrying it back up to the counter.
“You live around here long?” he asked suddenly, setting the ice down. His tone was casual, but his eyes flicked toward Mine, sharp despite the weariness in them.
Mine scanned the barcode. “Long enough.”
“Bet it’s peaceful.” Nanba leaned his elbow on the counter, waiting. “Not like the city, where you can’t even hear yourself think.”
Mine handed him the bag, his expression carefully neutral. “It’s quiet. That’s the point.”
Nanba gave a small chuckle, like he understood more than he let on. “Can’t blame you for wanting quiet.”
Nanba lingered a second longer, the bag of ice crinkling under his arm. His gaze slid over Mine, taking in the crispness of his posture, the measured way he spoke, and finally his eyes; cool, controlled, like polished glass that refused to let anyone see through.
“Y’know,” Nanba said, scratching at his beard, “from an old man like myself… sometimes quiet’s good, but too much quiet? It’ll eat you alive. Gotta let a little noise in now and then.”
Mine’s eyebrow ticked upward. He didn’t expect advice from strangers, much less from someone who smelled faintly of sea salt and cigarettes. He also thought he had gotten very good at hiding his expressions from others. Seems like he's getting rusty.
Before answering, Mine looked the other man up and down quickly before he pondered a bit more on Nanba's remark. Besides the shabbiness of his appearance, he did not look much older than Mine.
“You don’t look that old,” Mine replied, his tone flat but not unfriendly. “I’m probably older, anyway.”
Nanba blinked. “Eh? No way. That can't be possible man. I’m forty-six.”
“Forty-eight,” Mine said simply.
Nanba’s jaw went slack. “Hah?! You’re kidding me! You look like—like some sharp salaryman straight outta a magazine. What the hell are you eating, anti-aging seaweed or somethin’?”
A soft, almost imperceptible laugh slipped from Mine’s throat before he smothered it with a faint shake of his head. It had been awhile since he had something even close to a smile or laugh on his face. The man he used to love made a similar remark when he learned the two of them were the same age and only weeks apart from one another.
He could hear his heart beginning to ache like it usually did and he tried to contain it in front of the other man. It would be embarrassing to break down in front of someone who was practically a stranger.
“Discipline,” he said at last, voice cool, steady. “Nothing more, really. I’ve been exercising almost every single day with little to no breaks since I was twenty.”
Nanba barked a laugh, still looking him over in disbelief. “Man… I’d never have guessed it. If we stood side by side, people would think I’m the older one. Maybe even think I'm your father or something."
Mine said nothing, though the faintest shadow of a smile threatened to rise. He buried it as quickly as it came, straightening his posture until his expression was carved back into neutrality.
"You do not give yourself enough credit and you will inflate my ego if you keep talking that way," Mine spoke as he looked at the ice in Nanba's arm that looked to be turning a bit watery. "You should take care of your ice. It won’t last long out there.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Nanba hoisted the bag up with a grunt. “But seriously, forty-eight? Damn. You’re full of surprises, store guy. Oh, that's kind of rude to call you, huh? I'm Nanba, by the way.”
Mine’s brows arched, though he didn’t bother correcting him. He had been called far worse in his lifetime.
“I’m Nanba, by the way.”
“Mine,” he replied smoothly, inclining his head just enough to acknowledge the introduction. “It’s nice to meet you, Nanba.”
“Same, man.” Nanba grinned wide enough for the crow's feet to cut into the corners of his eyes. “Well, you might be seeing us more throughout these days! We’re probably going to be hanging around for the next week or so, with more company, too. You’ll love ’em. Loud as hell, but fun.”
Mine clasped his hands neatly behind his back, his voice steady, polite, the way one might address an esteemed guest. “You are all welcome anytime. I hope your trip is enjoyable.”
The words were formal, but there was a flicker of warmth behind them, like embers beneath ash.
Nanba turned, lifting one hand in a half-hearted, lazy wave as he shuffled toward the door. “Appreciate it. Have a good one, Mine!”
The bell above the door jingled faintly when he pushed it open, letting in a thin ribbon of sunlight that stretched across the floor. Mine stayed where he was, standing tall and composed, though his chest felt strangely lighter than it had a moment ago.
As Nanba stepped out, he muttered under his breath, “Ichiban’s gonna act like he thought of buying ice in the first place.”
The bell above the door jingled as he slipped back out into the sunlight, still muttering to himself in disbelief.
Mine stood in the silence that followed, staring at the empty doorway.
Surprises.
He hated how that word clung to him.
____
The day ended as it always did, slowly, with the quiet stretch of hours that seemed to bleed together until the streets outside were painted with dusk. The shop had grown still, save for the low hum of the refrigerator cases and the occasional creak of the wooden beams overhead. Mine moved through the aisles in his usual meticulous fashion, his sharp eyes scanning every shelf. He checked the stock the way others might check for intruders, a habit that had long since fused into his bones. Every item needed to be accounted for, every small detail precisely as it should be.
By the time he finished, the clock was edging closer to closing. He allowed himself the rare indulgence of a chair behind the counter, a cooling cup of tea at his side, his “lunch,” though the hour was far past noon. He wasn’t particularly hungry. Habit dictated he sit, take stock not only of the shop but of himself, and wait for the day to draw to its quiet conclusion.
The familiar jingle of the doorbell shattered the silence. Nobody really came this late but he liked keeping the store open just in case someone elderly needed something urgently from the shop.
The man named Ichiban stepped in first, bringing with him the warmth of the night air and the restless energy of a man who could never truly be quiet. His voice seemed to fill the shop before he even spoke. Behind him, Saeko trailed with a confident stride, her posture graceful in a way that made the cramped aisles look like a runway. Together, they carried the air of people who belonged anywhere they went, whether or not they truly did.
“Evening!” Ichiban’s grin was boyish, bright enough to rival the fluorescent lights above. He strode up to the counter without hesitation, leaning an elbow against it as if he’d been a regular for years rather than a passing customer. “We’re back for more. Figured we’d grab ice cream for the crew this time!”
Mine inclined his head politely, his expression composed, betraying nothing. “Of course. The freezer section is just there.”
But Ichiban didn’t move. He squinted instead, tilting his head as though angling for a better look. The shop had darkened since his last visit, the windows framing only the faint glow of neon signs outside. The shadows carved Mine’s face differently now, sharpening the edges, hollowing the angles, drawing the eye to the parts of him he normally kept hidden behind cool civility.
“You know…” Ichiban’s brow furrowed, the grin that so easily sat on his face slipping into something more contemplative. He tilted his head, squinting at Mine as though the dim lights and shadowy corners of the store might be keeping secrets from him. “You look… familiar.”
Mine’s body did not move, but the air around him shifted ever so slightly. A single blink, measured, deliberate; before he resumed his stillness. His spine remained straight, his hands folded loosely against the countertop. “I doubt it.” His voice was calm, but clipped in a way that suggested he meant to close the subject. “It’s highly unlikely we would have met.”
Mine definitely did not recognize Ichiban, but there was always the odd chance that the man looked entirely different from awhile ago. However, Mine felt like such a name would be something he'd remember clearly.
He tried his best to stay calm and not let the unease get to him.
Ichiban, however, wasn’t the type to be dismissed. If anything, the resistance only made him push harder. He leaned forward on the counter, narrowing his eyes like a man who refused to let a puzzle go unsolved. The casual grin was gone now, replaced with a searching intensity that belied his easygoing exterior. “Nah, I swear I’ve seen you somewhere before. Not like on the street or something…it’s different. Maybe… a photo? You ever model or something?”
The suggestion landed like a pebble cast into still water. For a fleeting second, the calm surface of Mine’s composure rippled. A muscle twitched in his jaw, the smallest betrayal of the irritation, or perhaps nervousness, that stirred beneath his otherwise frozen features. He smoothed it away almost instantly, his expression once again unreadable marble. “…No.”
Ichiban didn’t look convinced. He tilted his head to the other side now, studying Mine from another angle, like a child convinced if he just looked long enough, the answer would reveal itself. “C’mon, man. You’ve got that kind of face. Sharp, serious, like one of those guys you’d see in a magazine ad for watches or cologne or somethin’. I’ve definitely seen you before.”
“You are mistaken.” Mine’s tone carried the faintest edge this time, a subtle steel meant to draw the line more firmly. He adjusted a stack of receipts beside the register, an action that was more about occupying his hands than necessity.
Ichiban only chuckled lightly, scratching at his cheek. “Guess I could be. My memory’s not exactly flawless. But still…” His gaze lingered, softer now, almost curious rather than intrusive. “Feels like I know you from somewhere. Weird, huh?”
Mine resisted the urge to sigh, "Again, sir. I believe you are mistaken. I have never modeled in anything and don't frequently take photos of myself either."
“Really? Huh.” Ichiban scratched the back of his neck, still staring as though the answer might spring out if he just looked hard enough. “It’s gonna bug me now. You’ve just got… that kind of face. One of those, ‘I should know this guy’ faces.”
“Or perhaps,” Mine said coolly, “you simply imagine familiarity where there is none.”
Saeko, who had been browsing near the shelves of bottled tea with an indulgent smile, finally cut in. She stepped closer, heels clicking softly against the floor. “Kasuga, stop bothering the poor store clerk. He’s just trying to do his job. If you want ice cream, go get it before closing.”
Ichiban shot her a sheepish grin, rubbing the back of his head like a scolded child. “Right, right! Ice cream! Got it!”
Saeko glanced at Mine, her smile apologetic but edged with teasing humor. “Don’t mind him. He’s harmless. Just thinks out loud too much.”
Mine inclined his head slightly in acknowledgment. He didn’t say it, but he was relieved for the interruption.
As the two of them moved toward the freezers, Ichiban called over his shoulder, “We need enough for the big guys, as well, right? Did they say if they wanted any?"
“Big guys?” Mine echoed softly under his breath, watching Ichiban with a mixture of curiosity and restraint. His assumption fell easily into place. Probably for the three other men they were with, one of them including Nanba. From what he recalled the other two were named Joongi and Adachi.
"Yeah! They said they'd all have any flavour that was available, except Saejima-san, he said he doesn't want pistachio under any circumstances," Saeko laughed.
Mine's interest was piqued with the new name mentioned. This must be one of the other people Nanba was mentioning. It sounded oddly familiar but he couldn't put a pin in it either just like how Ichiban was feeling. "Ah. He's right, it is quite frustrating to have this feeling and not be able to do anything about it." He folded his hands behind his back again,but his mind flickered with quiet calculation.
The pair had grabbed an abundance of ice cream and plopped it down in front of Mine. Ichiban produced a crumpled billfold, grinning sheepishly at Mine. “Sorry about the wait.”
Mine scanned each container with practiced efficiency, the soft beep of the register filling the silence between them. “No trouble.”
When the total was displayed, Ichiban passed over the bills with an easy smile. Mine took them, counting with precise, measured movements, then offered the bagged pints back across the counter.
“Enjoy your evening.”
“Thanks, man.” Ichiban grabbed the bag, lifting it high like a prize. Saeko gave a polite nod, her smile warmer but less searching than Ichiban’s had been.
The bell jingled one last time as the pair slipped out into the night, their voices fading into the hush of the seaside air. The shop stilled again, the hum of the cooler and faint tick of the clock filling the empty space.
Mine remained at the counter a moment longer, eyes lowered to where Ichiban’s crumpled bills had been smoothed flat against the register tray. Slowly, he exhaled.
The routine took over. He checked the locks, slid down the metal shutters with a clatter that echoed against the street, then flicked off the lights one by one until the shop was bathed in shadow. His footsteps carried him out the side door, where the salt wind greeted him with its familiar chill.
The town was quiet, the sea beyond the road whispering in its endless rhythm. He walked slowly, hands tucked into his pockets, letting the night fold around him. His heart, of course, aching as it usually did when the melancholy atmosphere hit.