Aya Minami Buys a Soda

The store was quiet in a way that almost felt wrong. Refrigerators hummed, the overhead lights buzzed faintly, and Miyu lined up bottles in the cooler with military precision.

I carefully counted change into a customer’s hand, praying not to drop a coin. Manager Sato was “occupied” in the back room—probably juggling ramen, naps, and questionable wisdom.

For once, the universe seemed merciful. Peaceful.

Too peaceful.

The automatic doors chimed.

And just like that, the universe remembered who I was.

Aya Minami burst into the store like she was crossing a finish line. Track jacket swishing, cropped hair bouncing, amber eyes sparkling—basically a human firework.

Her gaze landed on me like a spotlight. “Ryota?!”

My hands froze on the register. “M-Minami?!”

She leaned across the counter, grin wide enough to power a car battery. “So this is where you vanish after class! I thought you were sneaking off to nap in the library. Instead, you’re packing bags and pushing buttons? Riveting.”

“It’s not like that,” I muttered. “And I don’t vanish.”

Behind us, a mother shushed her kid, who was now bouncing and shouting “Ryota?!” in an uncanny imitation of Aya. My humiliation had apparently gone public.

From the cooler, Miyu’s face didn’t change, but I swear the temperature dropped three degrees.

Aya noticed her instantly. “Ohhh, you even have a Cute co-worker senpai keeping you in line?”

My survival instincts screamed at me to dive headfirst into the mop bucket and live there forever. At least mop water doesn’t ask questions.

Aya bounced to the cooler, crouching. “Too much sugar… not enough sugar… hydration levels… ah, this one’ll fuel victory.”

She held up two bottles dramatically, squinting like she was deciding between soulmates. “What do you think, Ryota? Classic cola or citrus burst? This is basically like choosing a boyfriend.”

“Wh-why would soda be like that?!” My voice cracked like glass.

Aya smirked and set one down. “Guess I’ll settle for cola. Steady, dependable. Like you, Store Boy.”

Heat surged into my ears. I was one more comment away from spontaneous combustion.

She plunked the bottle onto the counter. “Ring me up.”

Miyu slid beside me, voice calm and precise. “That’ll be 120 yen.”

Aya tilted her head. “Efficient. You must be the famous Takahashi-san from Ryota’s class.”

“Famous?” Miyu’s lips curved just slightly.

Aya laughed. “Ryota talks about you sometimes.”

“When have I ever?!” My protest squeaked.

Both of them turned toward me in perfect unison. I silently begged the cash drawer to open up and swallow me whole.

Aya cracked open her soda and leaned on the counter like she owned the deed. “So, Ryota, how’s the job? Bet you mess up a lot.”

“He does,” Miyu replied smoothly.

“Hey!”

Aya laughed, unbothered. “Figures. You’ve always been clumsy. Remember that relay where you tripped and wiped out half the team?”

“That was middle school!”Miyu tilted her head, smirk sharpening. “Sounds accurate.”

They exchanged a look—Aya playful, Miyu cool. The kind of look predators trade before deciding who gets the first bite.

I suddenly understood what wildebeasts feel like on nature documentaries.

Aya tapped her bottle against the counter to the rhythm of the store's background music. “You should come watch one of my track meets. I’ll even wave at you when I cross the finish line first.”

Miyu’s eyebrow rose. “Shouldn’t you focus on running, not waving?”

“Multitasking.” Aya winked. “I’m good at it.”

Miyu’s smirk didn’t waver. “We’ll see.”

“Uh, maybe I should—”

“Quiet, Store Boy.” Aya patted my shoulder like she was awarding me a medal.

“Miyu, please don’t encourage her—”

But Miyu’s smirk only deepened, like Aya had just handed her a game worth playing.

The storage room door creaked. Manager Sato shuffled out, ramen cup steaming in his hands. He blinked at the three of us like he’d stumbled into live theater.

“Mm. Bold flavors here. Spicy. Like miso ramen—addictive, but dangerous for the stomach.”

“Back room. Now.” My voice cracked.

He shrugged. “Don’t let the broth boil over, kid.” Then vanished again.

Aya nearly spat soda from laughing. Miyu sighed, though the corner of her mouth twitched.

Eventually, Aya capped her bottle, still grinning like she’d conquered the store. “This was fun. I’ll be back. Don’t miss me too much, Store Boy.”

The doors chimed as she bounded out, her energy buzzing in the air like leftover static after a lightning strike.

I slumped against the counter. “Peace is officially dead.”

Miyu glanced at me, unreadable. “She’s… lively.”

“That’s one word for it.”

Her smirk returned, sharper than usual. “You attract interesting people, Ryota.”

“Please don’t remind me.”

From this day forward, peaceful shifts weren’t just rare. They were an endangered species.