The morning air was crisp, scented with the faint metallic tang of the city and the aroma of cheap vending machine coffee. Sataru arrived at the office building at 7:30 AM, his "Serious Mode" fully engaged. He wore his suit like armor—sharp, pressed, and impenetrable.
As he approached the glass revolving doors, he saw a familiar figure standing by the security podium. His father, Hiroshi, was chatting with a delivery driver, his posture upright and his uniform spotless. Even as a high school security guard taking extra shifts at the corporate plaza, Hiroshi held himself with a quiet dignity that Sataru admired—and occasionally found painful to look at.
"Morning, Sataru," Hiroshi said, his eyes softening as his son approached. He kept his voice low, professional enough for the lobby but warm enough for a father.
"Morning, Dad," Sataru replied, stopping for a brief second. He adjusted his tie, his eyes darting around to see if any executives were watching. "How was the night shift at the school?"
"Quiet. Spent most of it patrolling the gym," Hiroshi chuckled. "Your mother called this morning. She sounds stronger. She told me to tell you to eat a real lunch today, not just those convenience store protein bars."
Sataru felt a pang of guilt. "I’ll try. I have a lot of data to process before the noon meeting."
"Always working," Hiroshi sighed, but there was pride in his voice. "Go on. Don't let the old man keep you."
As Sataru turned toward the elevators, the revolving door spun again. Shino Madsudori stepped inside, looking like a literal ray of sunshine in a beige trench coat. She wasn't wearing her glasses today—back to her "Office Idol" contacts—but the moment she saw the security desk, her face lit up.
"Good morning, Officer Asada!" she chirped, bowing slightly to Hiroshi.
Sataru froze mid-step. She knows my dad’s name?
Hiroshi beamed, tipping his cap. "Good morning, Madsudori-san. Early as usual. I see you’ve got your hands full today."
She was carrying a stack of thick envelopes and a small paper bag that smelled heavenly. "Just some research materials... and some fresh melon bread from that bakery near the station. They only make a limited batch!"
She turned and caught Sataru’s eye. Her smile widened, and for a second, Sataru felt like his "pay wall" was crumbling.
"Oh! Asada-kun! Perfect timing," she said, catching up to him as the elevator doors opened.
The elevator was empty. As the doors slid shut, the silence felt heavy, charged with the kind of tension that only exists between two people who are thinking too much.
"You're... friendly with the security staff," Sataru managed to say, his voice stiff.
"Of course! Your father is a wonderful man," Shino said, leaning against the mirrored wall of the elevator. She didn't seem bothered by his coldness; if anything, she seemed to find it amusing. "He told me once that his son was the most hardworking person in this entire building. I didn't realize he meant you until a few months ago. You have the same eyes."
Sataru looked at his reflection in the elevator door. He didn't see the resemblance. He saw a man who was tired, shy, and obsessed with numbers. "He talks too much. He should focus on the perimeter."
Shino laughed, a clear, melodic sound that echoed in the small space. "You're so mean to yourself, Sataru-kun. Being hardworking isn't a crime."
She reached into her bag and pulled out the warm paper bag. "Here. Take half. I know you probably skipped breakfast to look at spreadsheets."
"I can't take your food, Madsudori-san. That’s unprofessional."
"Consider it a 'thank you' for the statistics yesterday," she insisted, thrusting the bag toward him. When he didn't move, she sighed and stepped closer—right into his personal space.
Sataru’s breath hitched. Up close, he could see the faint shimmer of her eyeshadow and the way her eyes searched his.
"You know," she whispered, her voice dropping its "outgoing" office tone and becoming something much more sincere. "In the stories I read... the bravest heroes aren't the ones who scream the loudest. They're the ones who stand their ground and protect what matters, even when they're exhausted. You remind me of someone like that. A real Shield Hero."
The elevator dinged, announcing their floor. Shino slipped the bag into his hand, gave him a playful wink, and stepped out, her heels clicking confidently on the carpeted floor.
Sataru stood in the elevator for three extra seconds, clutching the warm bread. Shield Hero?
He thought about the anime volume he’d seen on her desk last night. He thought about the girl at the convention ten years ago, the one who had been cornered by three older guys after her glasses were knocked off. He remembered stepping between them, his heart racing just as fast then as it was now, not saying a word but refusing to move until they left.
He took a bite of the melon bread. It was sweet, soft, and still warm.
Does she know? he wondered, his serious mask finally cracking into a tiny, private smile. Or is she just the only person who actually sees me?97Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡmnv1y8e3L5
and then Add to home screen.