Sasaki is forty-five, single, and running on fumes. Every night after overtime, he drags himself to Supermarket S for a half-price bento, a pack of Mevius, and one small reason to keep going: Yamada-san, the sweet, smiling part-timer at register two. She's polite, professional, and utterly out of his league—which doesn't stop him from lining up at her lane every single day like a lovesick idiot.
Then, one night behind the store, he discovers the truth.
The Yamada who clocks out is nothing like
Smoking Love Behind Supermarket S - A reunion three days later, and a night sinking into the smartphone
Three days later, Sasaki stepped through the automatic doors of Supermarket S.
Ever since that night in the smoking area, when he'd parted ways with Tayama, work had felt strangely long. The suburban branch of Genki Trading was as busy as ever, and his days were swallowed up by the endless chores of a supervisor. But in the corner of his mind, her profile kept surfacing—hair down, earring glinting.
"Welcome!"
The moment he stepped inside, a clerk's voice came from the produce section near the entrance. Sasaki grabbed a basket and headed for the prepared foods corner, same as always. He checked the position of the half-price stickers and picked up a single karaage bento today. Then, over to the rice cracker shelf.
"Kakimochi soy sauce flavor."
He flipped the bag over and glanced at the ingredients list for no particular reason. Not that he cared. He just wanted to stretch out the time before he reached the register.
(Which register should I line up at today?)
Sasaki scanned the store. Thirty minutes to closing. Three registers were open, and every line was empty. But his feet carried him, naturally, to register two.
"Welcome! Do you have a point card?"
Yamada's voice reached his ears.
Black hair pulled back in a single bundle, green apron worn neat and proper. The name tag on her chest read "Yamada." Her customer-service smile gleamed under the fluorescent lights.
"Ah, thanks."
Sasaki set his basket on the counter. Yamada scanned the items briskly.
"Thank you for your hard work. We appreciate your business as always."
That smile was, as ever, flawless.
(This smile is manufactured.)
Sasaki muttered it inwardly.
Yamada's smile, seen for the first time in three days. Polite, gentle, equally warm to everyone. But Sasaki already knew. He'd seen this person in the smoking area after closing—hair down, earring on, saying *atashi* while she smoked.
"Would you like your bento heated up?"
"No, I'm fine."
"Understood."
Yamada bagged the items. Her fingertips were small, her nails cut short. Sasaki found his eyes following those fingers without meaning to.
(Those fingers are the ones that hold a cigarette.)
"That'll be one thousand two hundred forty-six yen."
Sasaki pulled coins from his wallet. One five-hundred-yen coin, two hundreds, four tens, six ones. His fingertips trembled slightly.
(Calm down, me.)
He placed the coins on the tray. They clinked. Yamada took them and rang it up.
"Exact change, thank you."
"Ah, yes."
Yamada held out the bag.
"Thank you very much. Please come again."
Sasaki took the bag.
"Thanks."
With that, he left the register.
(What am I even doing?)
Two other registers were open, yet he'd gone out of his way to line up at Yamada's. A grown man of forty-five, just to see the smile of a twenty-four-year-old part-timer.
Sasaki smiled wryly.
(Well. Whatever.)
Outside the automatic doors, the September night wind cooled the sweat on his neck. Thin clouds drifted overhead, the moon a blurry smear behind them.
Sasaki walked around to the back of the store.
The northwest corner of the parking lot. Two ashtray stands and a single bench. Beyond the fence, the lights of the residential neighborhood. The streetlamp was weak, the area dim.
This was their smoking spot.
Sasaki sat on the bench and pulled a pack from his pocket. Mevius Premium. Five left. He put one between his lips and lit it with a hundred-yen lighter.
"...Hah."
He drew the smoke into his lungs and let it out slowly.
(Will she come today too?)
His heart beat a little faster.
He waited a few minutes. A figure appeared from the store's back door.
Hair down, a small silver earring in one ear. A black cardigan over her shoulders, a pack of Pianissimo Menthol in her hand.
It was Tayama.
"Oh, there you are. Hey, old man, it's been three days."
Tayama settled onto the bench beside him. It creaked under her weight.
"Ah. Hello."
"Don't 'hello' me. I've been waiting, you know."
Tayama pulled out a cigarette and put it between her lips. She borrowed Sasaki's lighter and lit up.
"Waiting... it's not like we made any promises."
"We didn't have to. I figured you'd show. See, I've taken a liking to you, old man."
Tayama grinned as she exhaled.
"...Could you please not say things like that?"
"Why not? It's the truth."
"I mean, it's, uh, bad for my heart."
"Your face is red, old man."
"It is not."
"It is. I can tell even in the dark."
Tayama laughed out loud. The sound echoed through the night parking lot.
Sasaki smoked to cover for himself.
(This person is always like this.)
Yamada's smile at the store was a perfect customer-service smile. But Tayama's smile over here was far more natural, mischievous, and it shook Sasaki's heart without mercy.
"Hey, old man."
Tayama tapped her ash into the tray as she spoke.
"What?"
"What do you think of me? As a store clerk, I mean."
Sasaki's hand froze around his cigarette.
(Huh...?)
Tayama wasn't facing him. She stared straight ahead, cigarette between her lips. Her profile, lit by the weak streetlamp, looked strangely serious.
"What do I... where's this coming from?"
"Just answer. Come on."
Her voice wasn't its usual teasing tone. A little lower.
Sasaki stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray.
(As a store clerk, huh.)
What did he think of her—as Yamada?
"...Your smile. I think it's nice."
He answered honestly.
"Huh?"
Tayama turned to face him.
"Your smile. I think it's nice. That smile you have at the store. Polite, gentle—watching it kind of cheers me up too."
He kept going.
"Your service is incredibly courteous. The way you handle the products, too. When I line up at that register, it's... reassuring, somehow."
Tayama stared at his face.
"...I see."
The corner of her mouth loosened, just slightly.
(Huh?)
Sasaki noticed that expression.
It wasn't her usual teasing grin. Her eyes had gone a little round, and her mouth was softening in something like embarrassment.
(Is this... her real face?)
Tayama's genuine, flustered face.
Sasaki felt something warm spread slowly through his chest.
"...Old man."
Tayama put out her cigarette.
"What?"
"Saying stuff like that so casually—that's cheating, you know."
She gave his shoulder a light shove.
"It's not cheating. You asked, so I answered."
"That's what I'm saying is cheating. Normally you wouldn't answer that seriously. 'It's fine, I guess,' or 'Sure, why not'—you'd normally dodge it, right?"
"Well, because it's the truth."
"Ugh, that's exactly what I mean, old man."
Tayama burst out laughing.
"Ahaha, what is that? Come on, stop it, I'm getting embarrassed here."
"You're the one who asked."
"I did ask! But when you answer that seriously, it puts me in a tough spot, you know?"
Still laughing, she tapped his arm.
Sasaki felt his heart jump at the gesture.
(Bad. She's close.)
Tayama's shoulder hovered just shy of touching his. The sweet scent of Pianissimo Menthol mixed with the night wind and reached his nose.
"...Want another cigarette?"
Tayama pulled one from her pack and held it out to him.
"Ah, no, mine are Mevius."
"I know. Try something different for once. Here, have one of mine."
She brought the cigarette close to his mouth.
"Come on, put it in your mouth."
"Uh, no, I'll light it myself."
"Just put it in your mouth."
Sasaki gingerly took the cigarette between his lips. Tayama lit it with her own lighter.
"...How is it?"
Sasaki took a drag of the Pianissimo Menthol.
"...Sweet."
"Right? It's menthol. Too sweet for you, old man?"
"No. It's not bad, in its own way."
"Then next time let me try your Mevius."
"Sure, but... isn't it a bit heavy for a woman?"
"That's fine. I want to know what the one you smoke tastes like."
Tayama reached for the cigarette in his hand.
"Hey, wait, that's the one I was smoking."
"An indirect kiss? Old man, are you the type to care about that?"
"It's not that I care, it's just, you know, common sense."
"Ahaha, your face is bright red, old man. Cute."
"Don't call me cute."
Tayama snatched his cigarette and put it between her own lips.
"...Mm. Yeah, your cigarettes are a little bitter."
She laughed as she exhaled.
"I told you so."
"But I don't hate it. Tastes like an adult."
She handed the cigarette back to him.
Sasaki took it and looked at the filter.
(Tayama's lips were...)
Just thinking that made his heart race again.
"Old man, you just thought something weird, didn't you."
"I did not."
"Liar. It's written all over your face."
"It is not."
"It is. You're way too easy to read, old man."
Tayama laughed, delighted.
Sasaki stubbed out his cigarette and let out a deep sigh.
(Can't win against this one.)
But strangely, it didn't feel bad at all.
"Hey, old man, are you coming tomorrow too?"
Tayama asked as she stood.
"Tomorrow? I think I'll stop by after work again."
"I see. Then I'll be waiting here tomorrow too."
She gave a little wave.
"See you, old man. Tomorrow."
"Ah. Yeah."
Her back disappeared beyond the parking lot.
Sasaki sat on the bench, unable to move for a while.
(Tomorrow too, huh.)
Something in his chest felt ticklish, warm—a strange sensation.
He stood and started walking the road home to his apartment.
The next day.
The suburban branch of Genki Trading was busy again today.
Sasaki finished his morning meeting and was making coffee in the break room. Instant coffee into a paper cup, hot water from the pot.
"Yo, Sasaki. Good work."
A cheerful voice came from behind him.
He turned. Suzuki, his colleague from the same hiring year, stood there. Black hair parted seven-to-three, the usual salesman's smile on his face. A wedding ring on his left hand.
"Good work."
"Busy again today, huh. You've been clocking out on time lately. Something going on?"
Suzuki stood beside him and started pouring coffee into his own mug.
"Nothing in particular."
"Liar. You've been talking about the supermarket nonstop lately."
Sasaki's hand froze around his paper cup.
"The supermarket? I haven't."
"You have, you have. Come on, just yesterday you were saying 'the supermarket's karaage bento was half price' and 'the rice crackers were cheap.' You never used to talk about stuff like that."
Suzuki grinned.
"...It's a coincidence."
"Coincidence? You go to the supermarket every day, don't you. And you go out of your way to do it right before closing."
"I go before closing because that's when the half-price stickers come out."
"Yeah, yeah, half-price stickers. So, this supermarket—there's a cute girl at the register, isn't there?"
Sasaki's heart nearly leaped out of his chest.
"Th-there's no such person."
"Oh, you're flustered. Hit the nail on the head."
"I did not. What are you even saying?"
"It's written all over your face, man. 'I have a crush on the supermarket clerk.'"
"It is not! Stop it with that."
Sasaki set the paper cup in his hand down on the break room counter. In doing so, his hand knocked the pot.
"Ah—"
The pot wobbled with a clatter. Sasaki lunged and just barely caught it.
"Whoa, whoa, you okay?"
Suzuki laughed, exasperated.
"I-I'm fine."
"See, I was right. Look how flustered you are."
"It's not that. My hand just slipped."
"Yeah, yeah. Well, I'm rooting for you. You've been kind of down lately. If you've found something to look forward to, that's a good thing."
Suzuki clapped him on the shoulder.
"...It's not like that. Nothing to root for."
"Sure. Then I'll pretend that's how it is."
Suzuki left the break room, grinning.
Sasaki was left alone.
(Written all over my face, huh.)
He touched his own cheek.
(Am I really that easy to read?)
He downed his coffee and went back to his desk.
The afternoon's work wouldn't come together at all.
That night.
Sasaki was in his apartment, wrestling with his smartphone.
An old six-tatami room. The fluorescent light illuminated the quiet space. On the table, an empty bento box and an empty beer can.
"...Let's see, adding a contact is here, right?"
Sasaki tapped the screen.
A sm
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