The Strawberry Milk Addict

The automatic doors sang their usual chime, and I swear the temperature in the store dropped five degrees. He walked in like a storm cloud—tall, hunched, cane tapping against the tiles. His scowl was so sharp it could probably slice through the plastic wrap on the rice balls.

I froze behind the counter. "This is it. I’m about to be in tomorrow’s newspaper headline: ‘Local Store Clerk Murdered Over Discounted Onigiri.’"

Miyu, of course, didn’t bat an eye. She was calmly restocking the gum display, acting as if a terrifying old man hadn’t just shuffled in, radiating pure menace.

“Relax,” she murmured without looking up. “He’s the strawberry milk guy; he doesn't buy Discounted Onigiri .”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” I whispered back.

The old man’s cane tapped closer. My palms were already sweating.

He slammed something onto the counter. I flinched so hard I nearly dropped the scanner. A knife? A gun?…A carton of strawberry milk.

“Uh… is this… all?” I asked, my voice cracking like a middle schooler in choir.

The old man glared at me like I’d just insulted his ancestors. “What else would it be?” His voice was gravelly, like he’d been chewing rocks for breakfast.

“Right. Yes. Of course. Just… the milk. No grenades. That’s great.”

I scrambled to scan the carton, nearly fumbling it onto the floor. The register beeped, and I shoved the change at him with trembling hands.

He snatched it, stuffed the milk into his coat, and shuffled out without another word.

 The automatic doors chimed again, cheerful as ever.

I collapsed against the counter. “Yay...I got through.”

"Congratulations on doing your job." Miyu sarcastically said, her lips twitching like she was seconds away from laughing.

Miyu finally looked up from the gum display, her expression back to its usual calmness. “That was Mr. Tanaka,” she said. “He comes every day. Always buys strawberry milk.”

I stared at her. “Yeah, you said so last time? He looks like he’s about to declare war, and he’s just here for strawberry milk?”

She smirked. “You looked like you were about to faint.”

“I thought he was going to rob us!”

“He’s a harmless seventy-two-year-old. The scariest thing about him is his cholesterol.”

I groaned, burying my face in my hands. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

Later that evening, while I was restocking the batteries, my curiosity got the better of me.

"Hey, Miyu, since you’ve been here longer than me… You must know why he only buys strawberry milk."

She looked thoughtful as she pulled a box off the floor. "You ever think maybe it was his late wife’s favorite drink or something? People hang on to habits like that."

Ryota paused mid-restock, the thought catching him off guard. “...Wait, now I feel like a jerk for being scared of him.”

“Don’t feel bad. Maybe he just really, really likes strawberry milk. Not everything needs a tragic backstory, you know.”

Before I could reply, the automatic doors chimed again.

I looked up—and nearly screamed.

Oh no. He’s back. The Strawberry Milk Warlord returns for his next conquest.

This time, I steeled myself. Okay, Ryota. You’ve got this. Just smile, say ‘Welcome,’ and act normal.

He glared at me. My rehearsed line dissolved.

“W-welcome to—uh—please don’t kill me.”

Miyu nearly doubled over laughing from the magazine aisle.

Mr. Tanaka slammed another carton of strawberry milk on the counter. I scanned it with shaking hands, avoiding eye contact as if it might cost me my soul.

He grunted, took his change, and left.

The doors chimed again.

Miyu walked over, smirking. “Smooth.”

“Don’t say a single word,” I muttered.

As if summoned by my humiliation, Manager Sato wandered out of the back room, holding yet another cup of instant ramen.

“Ah, Tanaka was here again?” he asked casually.

“You knew about him?!” I demanded.

“Of course. He’s been coming here longer than I’ve been manager.”

“Then why didn’t anyone warn me?”

Sato slurped his noodles. “Because it’s funny.”

I gaped at him. “That’s it?!”

“Kid," Manager Sato said between bites, customers are like puzzles. Some are easy, some are hard. Tanaka’s just… the kind you don’t solve. You just let him be.”

I groaned. “That’s not helpful at all.”

“Sure it is,” he said, slurping again. “You’ll see.”

"Where do we even get these weird sayings from?" I muttered.

"They come with age, young Ryota." Manager Sato voiced as he closed his eyes and nodded sagely while slurping noodles, as if he were meditating

Miyu said, “Pretty sure you just made that up,” while flipping through the Wise Sayings Even a Fool Can Use book.

"Where did you find that!!" Sato screamed

“Storage room. Behind the toilet paper.”

Manager Sato snatched it from her instantly and retreated to the back room like a dragon guarding its hoard.

By the time we closed, I had recovered what little dignity I had left.

Miyu locked the register, glancing at me with that same amused smirk. “You’ll see him again tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?!”

“Every day. Strawberry milk. Without fail,” she said in a sing-song voice.

I groaned, dragging a hand down my face. “Great. I only wanted to earn some pocket money, and now my job is a duel with the world’s scariest dairy enthusiast.

But “One day,” I muttered, locking the door, “I’m going to find out why he only buys strawberry milk.”

Miyu smiled faintly, almost knowingly. “Maybe you will,” she said. “Maybe you won’t.”

“…That’s not helpful.”

She laughed again as we stepped into the cool night air, leaving me unsure if I should be comforted… or terrified.