Chapter 2 – A Normal Day, Sponsored by an Apocalypse

Three years later, Tokyo runs like nothing ever died.

The sun sits just a little too perfect, like it got edited by someone who hates shadows. Nights glow clean, neon looks sharper than it should, even the rain seems like it falls with good posture. I tell myself I’m being dramatic, then I catch my own reflection and realize I look tired in a city that never does.

“Morning, Kaito, you look like you fought God again.”

Sakamoto’s voice hits me from behind the counter, lazy and amused.

“I lost, obviously.”

I pull my apron on, and the fabric feels like a costume for a life I didn’t ask for.

“Try not to die today, okay.”

He says it like a joke, and my stomach still drops, because the threat behind it is dead serious.

“I’ll do my best to stay alive out of spite.”

The automatic doors whoosh open, and the bell chimes, and for a second I brace like the world might go dark again. It doesn’t. The lights stay bright, shelves stay stocked, the konbini stays normal, and that’s almost weirder.

“You’re zoning out again.”

Sakamoto taps the register, making the screen flash, and I blink hard.

“I’m just tired.”

I scan a bent pack of gum, then a bottle of tea, then a guy’s bento, and every beep feels like proof reality still has rules. I cling to those beeps like they’re a lifeline.

“Yeah, yeah, tired, sure.”

He smirks, like he knows, and I hate that he’s not wrong.

“Your girlfriend come by yet.”

My jaw tightens, and I keep my eyes on the barcode, like staring at plastic can fix my life.

“She’s not my—”

The bell chimes again, and the air shifts, like the store itself perks up.

“Hey, Kaito.”

Mika walks in with that easy smile people practice without realizing. She has an umbrella tucked under her arm, hair slightly damp at the ends, cheeks pink from the chill outside. She waves like this is her spot, like I’m part of her routine, and I try to act normal.

“Hey, Mika.”

I lean forward a little, trying not to look like I’m counting exits.

“Rain’s light today.”

Her eyes flick up to the windows, where droplets streak down in neat lines.

“It’s like the sky is being polite.”

I laugh, because that’s exactly how it feels, like the weather has manners now.

“Yeah, Tokyo’s on its best behavior.”

Mika steps closer to the counter, and her perfume is warm, soft, normal, and for a second I can almost pretend.

“Long shift.”

She tilts her head, concern quiet and real.

“Always.”

I scan the onigiri she grabs, and my fingers brush hers, and it’s just a touch, just a normal thing, and my heart still freaks out.

“You should eat more.”

Her voice goes gentle, like she’s trying not to push.

“I eat, just not at normal times.”

Sakamoto makes a face behind me, exaggerated and loud.

“He lives on iced coffee and regret.”

I shoot him a look, and he grins like he’s proud of himself.

“That’s slander.”

Mika laughs, and it’s a clean sound, and I feel my shoulders drop a little.

“You’re funny, Sakamoto.”

He leans on the counter like he’s being interviewed.

“I’m literally the heart of this store.”

The bell chimes again, and my spine goes cold, because I know that sound now, not the bell, the shift under it. It’s like the air makes room, like the world scoots over to make space for her.

“Good morning.”

Beatriz walks in like she owns the timeline.

She looks perfect in a way that annoys me, not flashy, not trying, just effortlessly composed. Blonde hair smooth, eyes bright, posture calm, like she’s walking into a café and not into my personal nightmare. Her umbrella is closed, and somehow she’s barely wet, like rain knows better.

“Oh, hey.”

Mika’s smile stays up, polite, curious.

“Hi.”

Beatriz’s smile comes out sweet, almost friendly, and it makes my skin itch.

“You must be Mika.”

Mika blinks, surprised, then nods.

“Yeah, that’s me.”

Beatriz steps closer to the counter, and she doesn’t look at Sakamoto, doesn’t look at the shelves, doesn’t look at the store. She looks at me like I’m the only thing with gravity.

“What a coincidence.”

Her voice is warm, casual, like we’re talking about weather.

“I was craving exactly that for him.”

Mika glances down at the onigiri in her hand, then back up, confused in the nicest way.

“Um, this.”

Beatriz nods like she’s proud, like Mika made a good choice for my health.

“Yes.”

I clear my throat, trying to interrupt before the universe bends in public.

“Beatriz, I’m working.”

She turns her head, slow, sweet, and her eyes say you exist because I allow it.

“I know.”

Sakamoto’s eyebrows climb like he’s watching a drama unfold.

“This is the part where I hide behind the cigarettes.”

I glare at him, but he’s already stepping back, hands up, like he respects his own survival instincts.

“Mika, you don’t have to—”

Mika laughs awkwardly, trying to keep it light.

“It’s fine, really.”

Beatriz reaches into her bag, smooth and deliberate, and pulls out her wallet.

“I will pay.”

Mika blinks, then smiles like she thinks this is some rich-girl flex.

“Oh, you don’t have to.”

Beatriz’s smile stays sweet.

“I want to.”

I scan Mika’s items, then Beatriz slides her card across the counter like she’s been doing this for years. It’s a black card, of course it is. The machine beeps, and the total flashes.

“That’ll be—”

The number changes.

I blink once, then again, because the total drops to a clean, rounded amount, like the store decided to be generous.

“Wait, that’s not right.”

My voice comes out sharper than I want.

“It’s fine.”

Beatriz’s tone stays soft, like she’s calming a nervous dog.

“It’s a promotion.”

I glance at the tiny promo sticker near the register, and it wasn’t there two seconds ago. Now it’s there, bright and official, promising some discount that makes no sense.

“That promo wasn’t—”

Mika leans in, eyes wide.

“Oh wow, lucky.”

Sakamoto makes a low whistle from behind the counter.

“Bro, where was that promo when I bought my lunch.”

Beatriz doesn’t look at him, but the register screen flickers.

A new promo pops up, just for him, like the store is apologizing.

Sakamoto freezes, then slowly looks at me.

“Okay, that’s kind of insane.”

I swallow, throat tight, and my brain screams that nobody is reacting right, nobody is noticing the world glitching in real time.

“Beatriz, stop.”

She tilts her head, innocent.

“I’m not doing anything.”

The machine prints the receipt, and the paper comes out clean, no errors, like it’s always been this way. Beatriz takes the bag from me, and she doesn’t just hold it. She organizes it. She adjusts the onigiri so it won’t get squished. She aligns the bottle upright. She smooths the plastic like she’s tucking a kid into bed.

“Here.”

She offers it to me with that calm smile, like she’s handing me a love letter.

“I can carry my own bag.”

I try to sound annoyed, but it comes out tired.

“You can.”

She keeps holding it anyway.

“I will carry it.”

Mika watches, eyebrows raised, and her expression is friendly, but the curiosity is loud.

“So, you two are—”

Beatriz answers before I can.

“Together.”

The word drops like a stamp on a form I never filled out.

“Not—”

My mouth opens, but Beatriz’s gaze hits me, soft and dangerous.

My voice dies in my throat, and I hate that it does.

Mika laughs, light, still kind.

“Aw, cute.”

Sakamoto coughs, trying to hide a laugh.

“Man, Kaito, you move fast.”

I want to disappear into the freezer aisle and become a popsicle forever.

“It’s complicated.”

Beatriz nods like she agrees, then leans slightly toward Mika.

“You’re sweet to him.”

Her tone is sincere, and it lands like a compliment.

“Thank you for looking after him.”

Mika’s cheeks redden, and she waves a hand.

“It’s nothing.”

Beatriz’s smile stays bright, then her eyes flick to the onigiri.

“But next time.”

The sweetness stays, but the control slips through like a blade under silk.

“I will buy it first.”

Mika laughs again, a little unsure now.

“Okay, sure.”

I feel sweat prickle under my collar, and I force a smile at Mika, trying to apologize without words.

“See you later.”

Mika nods, still friendly, still normal, still somehow not noticing that my reality is being sponsored by a cosmic girlfriend.

“Yeah, take care.”

She steps out, umbrella opening, rain tapping the sidewalk outside.

The bell chimes, and the doors shut, and the store breathes again.

Sakamoto leans forward, eyes wide, voice low.

“Bro.”

He pauses like he’s choosing his words carefully, which is rare for him.

“Your girlfriend is terrifying, no cap.”

“She’s not my girlfriend.”

I rub my forehead, and my head throbs like it’s trying to reject this timeline.

“She just acts like she is.”

Sakamoto points at the receipt, then at the promo sticker, then at the air like it offended him.

“She just edited the store, Kaito.”

I grab the receipt, and the total is perfectly round, perfectly clean, like math got bullied into behaving.

“I know.”

Beatriz tilts her head, still holding the bag like a trophy.

“You should be grateful.”

Sakamoto straightens fast, suddenly all polite.

“Good morning, ma’am.”

Beatriz smiles at him, like she’s amused.

“Good morning.”

Sakamoto swallows, then tries to play it cool.

“So, uh, what do you do.”

Beatriz’s eyes drift back to me.

“I keep him alive.”

Sakamoto laughs once, then realizes she’s serious, and the laugh dies halfway.

“Cool, cool, love that.”

I exhale, slow, trying to keep my hands steady.

“Beatriz, you can’t just declare stuff.”

She steps closer to the counter, and the lights above us seem to brighten a tiny bit, like they’re leaning in.

“I can.”

Her smile stays sweet.

“I did.”

I lean forward, lowering my voice, because public humiliation is one thing, but reality manipulation is another.

“Why did the promo change.”

Beatriz blinks, like I asked why water is wet.

“It should be fair.”

I stare at her, and my brain feels like it’s glitching too.

“Fair to who.”

Beatriz’s gaze softens, and her voice drops slightly, private even in public.

“Fair to you.”

The store speakers crackle.

A song starts playing, something pop and bright, and then the chorus hits.

It says my name.

Not a similar name, not a rhyme, my actual name, clear as day, like the universe is doing karaoke for her.

I freeze, eyes wide, and Sakamoto frowns, listening.

“Did that song just—”

He stops, then shrugs like it’s normal.

“Okay, weird coincidence.”

My mouth goes dry, and I stare at the speaker like it’s about to confess my social security number.

“That’s not coincidence.”

Beatriz smiles, pleased, like she picked the playlist.

“It suits you.”

Sakamoto’s face shifts into a grin, like he loves chaos.

“This is kinda romantic, bro.”

“It’s not romantic, it’s cursed.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose, and Beatriz’s fingers brush my wrist, gentle.

“It’s romantic.”

Her touch is warm, and my body responds like a traitor.

I hate that part of me likes it, and I hate that I can’t fully hate it.

“Are you leaving now.”

Sakamoto’s voice is suddenly careful, like he’s trying not to get erased.

“Yeah.”

I grab my break pass, and Beatriz smoothly steps beside me, already moving like we planned this.

“Have fun on your apocalypse date.”

Sakamoto calls after me, and I flip him off without looking.

“Slay.”

He laughs, and the doors whoosh open, rain scent rushing in.

The street outside glows wet, neon reflecting in puddles like spilled candy. Cars pass, tires hissing, umbrellas dot the sidewalk like moving mushrooms. The city looks alive, and it looks too perfect, like someone fixed it with a ruler.

“Walk with me.”

Beatriz holds the bag with both hands, careful, like it matters.

“I’m walking.”

I shove my hands in my pockets, shoulders tight.

“You’re acting like this is a date.”

Beatriz glances at me, eyes bright.

“It is.”

I scoff, but my chest feels weird, not pain, not calm, something in between.

“I didn’t agree.”

Beatriz’s smile turns softer, almost teasing.

“You didn’t disagree.”

Rain taps my hair, cold and light, and I glare at the sidewalk like it owes me answers.

“I literally tried to disagree in the store.”

Beatriz’s tone stays sweet.

“You tried.”

I shoot her a look, and she looks back like she’s enjoying me being alive.

We walk toward the station, and the crowd moves around us, people on phones, couples sharing umbrellas, a kid dragging a parent toward a gachapon machine. I watch their faces, waiting for someone to react to Beatriz, to the way the streetlights lean toward her, to the way neon feels sharper near her.

Nobody cares.

“Do you ever feel guilty.”

My question slips out before I can stop it.

Beatriz blinks, then shakes her head slightly.

“No.”

I laugh once, bitter.

“That checks out.”

We pass a line of vending machines, all glowing bright, and I remember when they were useless ghosts. The memory hits my ribs, sharp.

“Do you remember that night.”

Beatriz’s gaze stays ahead, calm.

“I remember every second.”

My throat tightens, and I swallow.

“You said that thing.”

Beatriz turns her head, and her smile is gentle, like she’s about to tell me a bedtime story.

“I promised you.”

I hate how my pulse speeds up, like my body thinks this is flirting.

“You promised the world dies if I do.”

Beatriz nods, like it’s a simple fact, like gravity.

“Yes.”

The train station entrance glows ahead, lights bright under the awning, and people flow in and out. The sound of the city hums around us, and still, her words cut through everything.

“And if you make me immortal, you won’t.”

Beatriz nods again.

“Yes.”

I exhale hard, watching my breath fog faintly in the rain.

“That’s not romantic.”

Beatriz’s eyes soften, and her voice goes quiet.

“It’s devotion.”

I laugh, because if I don’t, I might scream.

“Devotion is buying someone soup when they’re sick.”

Beatriz’s smile turns playful, almost proud.

“I can do that too.”

My shoulders loosen a fraction, and I hate that she can do that, make me feel like this is almost normal.

“You got jealous over an onigiri.”

Beatriz’s gaze stays steady, like she’s not embarrassed.

“I got protective.”

My lips twitch, unwilling, and I look away fast, because that’s dangerous.

“Same thing, different font.”

Beatriz laughs softly, and it’s a warm sound in the rain.

“You’re funny.”

We cross the street, and neon signs reflect in the puddles, pink and blue and gold. A giant billboard shows a smiling idol, her teeth too white, her eyes too bright. Everything shines.

I notice a shadow at the edge of my vision.

It’s not a person.

It moves like a stain trying to crawl up a wall.

“Do you see that.”

My voice drops, and my stomach knots.

Beatriz keeps walking, calm.

“See what.”

I stop, forcing myself to stare.

Across the street, a neon sign buzzes, then the shadow rises, slow and hungry, like it wants to swallow the light. The sign flickers, the pink letters bending, dimming, like they’re being dragged underwater.

“That.”

My finger points before my brain can be polite.

Beatriz turns her head.

Her gaze lands on the sign, casual, almost bored.

The shadow freezes like it got caught stealing.

The neon snaps back into place, bright and perfect again, and the shadow retracts, obedient, like a dog backing away from its owner.

Beatriz smiles at me, sweet as ever.

“Don’t worry.”

Rain keeps falling, neon keeps shining, and the dark keeps waiting for her to blink.