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 - The store manager's gaze and Tayama's confusion
The air inside the store gradually took on the color of night.
Sasaki glanced at his watch. 9:37 p.m. Twenty-three minutes until closing.
Fresh Mart Kano, standing alone in a residential neighborhood of Kasaino City. Locals called it "Supermarket S"—just an ordinary grocery store. Open until ten at night. At this hour, only a scattering of customers on their way home from work remained.
Sasaki stopped in front of the deli section, basket in hand. Bento boxes with half-price stickers sat lined up under the cold fluorescent lights. Today, it was the chicken nanban bento. Plus the usual kaki-mochi rice crackers in soy sauce flavor. Two cans of beer.
*This'll get me through today, at least.*
He muttered it inwardly and headed for the register.
Three registers. Only the one farthest back—register two—had a short line. The others were empty.
Sasaki, without hesitation, took his place at the end of register two's line.
*She's here again today.*
A warmth spread slowly through his chest.
The line moved up by one. A white-haired man stood ahead of him. Beyond him, he could see the clerk working the register.
Yamada-san.
Black hair pulled back in a single bundle, wearing a clean green apron. The name tag on her chest read "Yamada." About five foot three. A slender build, with movements that wasted nothing.
"Sorry to keep you waiting. Do you have a point card?"
Yamada's voice rang lightly through the store. She smiled at the white-haired customer.
*Perfect smile again today.*
Sasaki murmured it in his chest.
Yamada's smile was manufactured, yet it didn't look manufactured. Even the "Welcome!" straight from the customer-service manual sounded like genuine hospitality when she said it. When their eyes met, his heart felt somehow lighter.
But Sasaki already knew.
Behind that smile was another face—the real one called Tayama, who let her hair down, wore glinting earrings, said *atashi*, and smoked cigarettes.
*Not Yamada-san. Tayama-san.*
Sasaki let out a quiet breath.
"Next, please."
Yamada looked up. Her eyes met Sasaki's.
"Ah, hello."
Sasaki set his basket on the counter. Yamada quickly scanned the barcodes.
"Good work today. Thank you as always."
Yamada smiled.
"Th-thank you..."
Sasaki fought to keep his voice from cracking.
*Calm down. I'm just a regular customer.*
Yamada's fingertips scanned the bag of rice crackers. Small hands. Her nails were cut short and clean.
*Those fingers hold a cigarette.*
Sasaki found himself following those fingers with his eyes.
"Would you like your bento heated up?"
"No, I'm fine."
"Understood."
Yamada bagged the items. Her movements were as careful and graceful as ever.
"That'll be 1,246 yen."
Sasaki pulled coins from his wallet. One five-hundred-yen coin, two hundreds, four tens, six ones. His fingertips trembled just slightly.
*Every single time—what am I even nervous about?*
He placed the coins on the tray. They clinked.
"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 registers were open and empty, yet he deliberately lined 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.
*But I can't stop.*
Outside the automatic doors, the late-September night wind cooled his sweat-dampened neck. Thin clouds drifted across the sky, blurring the moon.
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 glowed. The streetlamp was weak, and the area was dim.
This was their smoking spot.
Sasaki sat on the bench and pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. Mevius Premium. Four 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?*
His heart beat a little faster.
But that day was different from usual.
The person who emerged from the store's back door was not Tayama.
A woman with a neat short bob of black hair. Narrow, sharp black eyes. A mole at the corner of her mouth. Expressionless, holding a heated-tobacco device in her hand.
Gotou. The manager of Fresh Mart Kano.
Sasaki half-rose from the bench.
"Ah, hello..."
Gotou glanced at Sasaki.
"Oh. It's you."
Gotou sat down beside Sasaki. The bench creaked.
*The manager? Here?*
Sasaki stopped his hand mid-smoke.
Gotou turned on her heated tobacco device and drew in the smoke slowly.
Silence.
Sasaki had no idea what to say, so he could only exhale cigarette smoke.
Gotou stared at the residential lights beyond the fence, expressionless.
*Awkward.*
Sasaki muttered inwardly.
Then—
"Sasaki-kun."
Gotou spoke quietly.
"Eh—ah, yes."
Sasaki straightened his back.
*Why does she know my name?*
Gotou exhaled smoke and said:
"Our Yamada's been in your care, hasn't she."
Sasaki's heart leaped.
*What?*
*What did she just say?*
*Our Yamada's been in my care?*
Sasaki nearly dropped his cigarette.
"N-no, I mean, in my care—what are you talking about?"
His voice cracked.
Gotou turned toward him. Still expressionless, she stared.
"What do you mean, what am I talking about—you always line up at register two, don't you."
"Eh, ah, that's..."
Sasaki was at a loss for words.
*She noticed.*
*The manager noticed.*
Gotou took another drag and exhaled.
"I'm not blaming you."
"R-right..."
"It's just—having my employee be popular with a regular isn't a bad feeling, as a manager."
"Th-thank you..."
Sasaki had no idea what he was thanking her for.
Gotou said nothing more.
Silence returned.
Sasaki drew on his cigarette and thought desperately.
*How much does she know about Yamada's secret?*
*Does she know about Tayama?*
*Or is she just seeing me as a regular customer?*
Nothing could be read from Gotou's expressionless face.
*Scary.*
Sasaki muttered inwardly.
*What is this person thinking?*
Then—
"Well."
Gotou murmured.
"For a dry, flavorless night shift, it's perfect entertainment."
Sasaki looked at Gotou's face.
*Entertainment?*
*What is?*
*Me and Yamada?*
The corner of Gotou's mouth seemed to soften, just slightly.
"...Hm."
Gotou pressed her heated tobacco into the ashtray.
"See you, Sasaki-kun."
She stood.
"Ah, good work today."
Sasaki hurriedly bowed his head.
Gotou disappeared through the back door without looking back.
Sasaki sat on the bench, unable to move for a while.
*Entertainment, huh.*
*My relationship with Yamada is entertainment to the manager?*
*So she's just watching from the sidelines?*
*Or is she plotting something?*
Sasaki drew deeply on his cigarette.
*I don't get it.*
*But there was no hostility.*
*That softening at her mouth—that was a smile.*
*The manager finds me and Yamada amusing.*
Sasaki looked up at the sky.
*Does she intend to protect Yamada's secret?*
*Or is she just a bystander?*
No answer came.
Sasaki finished his cigarette and stood.
*Anyway, the best way to protect Yamada's smile is for me not to do anything unnecessary.*
*Right. I'm just a regular customer. That's enough.*
Sasaki muttered it to himself, as if convincing himself.
He regripped his bag and left the parking lot.
On the way home, light spilled from the windows of the houses—families together. The smell of dinner drifted from somewhere.
*My place has no one, though.*
Sasaki looked up at the sky. The moon was hidden behind thin clouds.
*But today, just a little—*
*My heart was loud.*
It was a little past ten when he reached his apartment.
Sasaki's room was a corner unit on the second floor. A single six-tatami room in an old building. Rent: fifty-two thousand yen. Thirty years old, a cramped bath, thin walls. But enough for one person.
"I'm home."
His voice was swallowed by the empty room.
Sasaki turned on the light. The fluorescent lamp illuminated the still room. A coffee cup sat on the table, left there since morning. Laundry was still piled in the basket.
*I'll do it tomorrow.*
He thought that every day, and never did.
Sasaki took off his suit jacket and unbuttoned his shirt. He set the bento on the table, opened a can of beer, and took a sip.
"Good."
Chicken nanban bento and beer. And rice crackers.
*This is my happiness.*
The thought made him a little sad.
Sasaki pulled out his phone.
No LINE message from Tayama.
*Did Tayama not come because the manager was there?*
*Or was it just a matter of timing?*
Sasaki set the phone on the table.
*What the manager said.*
*"Our Yamada's been in your care."*
*"For a dry, flavorless night shift, it's perfect entertainment."*
Sasaki looked up at the ceiling.
*I want to protect Yamada's smile.*
That feeling was beginning to take clear shape in his chest.
*I want to protect Yamada's smile.*
*I want to protect Tayama's real face, too.*
*But how much does the manager know?*
*Is the manager an enemy? An ally?*
Sasaki closed his eyes.
*I don't know.*
*But one thing I do know.*
*I'll line up at register two again tomorrow.*
*And I'll smoke at the smoking spot after closing.*
*Whether Tayama comes or not—I don't know.*
Sasaki let out a slow breath.
Outside the room, autumn insects were singing.
The sound seemed strangely distant.
The next day.
Yamada was tying her apron strings in the back room of Fresh Mart Kano.
Nine a.m. The quiet time before opening.
In the break room, besides Yamada, only one part-timer from the produce section sat drinking tea.
Yamada took her name tag from the locker and pinned it to her chest.
"Yamada."
She looked at the letters and let out a small breath.
*Today, I'll be Yamada again.*
Yamada fixed her hair in front of the mirror. Black hair pulled back in a bundle, earring holes covered with bandages. The mole on her neck hidden by a choker.
*Good.*
The perfect Yamada was complete.
Yamada stepped out onto the floor.
Before opening, the store was quiet, filled with cold air. The shelves were neatly arranged, the floor polished.
Yamada stood before the register and took a deep breath.
*Today, with a smile.*
*To everyone, equally.*
*Perfect customer service.*
That was Yamada's job.
As the store opened, customers trickled in.
Yamada greeted them with a smile and a "Welcome!"
Mornings brought mostly housewives. Yamada worked the register efficiently, bagging items carefully.
"Thank you very much."
Over and over.
But Yamada didn't dislike the work.
*When I smile, I feel like I get a little brighter too.*
*Well, it's all an act, though.*
Yamada stuck out her tongue inwardly.
Two p.m.
Yamada was eating a rice ball she'd brought in the break room.
"Yamada-san, good work."
The produce-section part-timer called out to her.
"Good work to you too."
Yamada smiled.
"You're always smiling, Yamada-san. Doesn't it tire you out?"
"Not at all. I like customer service."
Yamada answered smoothly.
*Of course it tires me out.*
*But saying that keeps things smooth.*
Yamada muttered inwardly as she bit into her rice ball.
Five p.m.
The evening rush. A long line had formed at the registers.
Yamada kept her smile fixed and worked the register briskly.
"Sorry to keep you waiting."
"Do you have a point card?"
"Thank you very much."
Over and over.
*Another day, done.*
*In a few hours, I can go back to being Tayama.*
Yamada thought so inwardly.
Then—
"Ah, hello."
A familiar voice.
Yamada looked up.
Sasaki stood before the register.
*Ah, Sasaki-san.*
Yamada's heart skipped, just a little.
"Good work today. Thank you as always."
Yamada said it with a smile.
*Did the manager say something to him yesterday?*
*Was everything all right?*
Yamada glanced at Sasaki's face.
Sasaki, as always, set his basket on the counter with a slightly nervous expression.
"Would you like your bento hea
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