He just wanted the day to be over, so he let out a quiet sigh of relief when the clock finally read 5:30 p.m.

Technically, he could have gone home now, but in Japanese work culture it was generally frowned upon to put your pen down the very moment the workday ended. So he spent a little more time sorting through his emails, carefully filing away his documents, and finally taking his used dishes to the office kitchen before putting on his jacket, checking the contents of his bag one last time, and saying goodbye to his two coworkers, who were also getting ready to leave.

Hiroshi was grateful that no one on his floor felt the need to impress the boss by staying until late at night. At some point, they had silently come to an agreement to avoid unnecessary overtime, so no one thought twice if everyone left around the same time.

By now, the evening rush hour had begun, and the train was noticeably more crowded than it had been that morning, though Hiroshi didn’t mind. Far more important was the fact that the strange feeling of being watched had finally disappeared, allowing him to push it to the back of his mind and focus instead on going over his shopping list.

The thought of all the treats waiting for him immediately lifted his mood.

When he got off at his home station, it only took a few minutes to reach the convenience store on the corner, where he, as usual, took his time browsing. He wandered through the aisles, looked over a few new products, and eventually added a pack of processed cheese and a grilled meat skewer to the instant ramen already in his basket.

I've earned this today, he thought with quiet satisfaction, and after a moment’s consideration, two chocolate bars also found their way into the basket—not just one.

With his shopping done, he headed to the register. By now, the cashier recognized him and greeted him with a friendly smile, packing his groceries with practiced efficiency before placing his change into his hand.

"Thank you very much and have a wonderful evening."

"Thank you. You too."

The bright chime above the entrance rang out as Hiroshi stepped outside, and he almost caught himself whistling.

Just five more minutes, and he’d finally be home.

He turned into the narrow side street and at first didn’t notice that anything was different, but as he frowned and looked around, something began to feel off. The streetlights were lit as usual, the buildings looked exactly the same, and everything appeared perfectly normal and yet something was wrong.

Then it hit him.

It was quiet. Far too quiet.

At this time of day, he usually passed several people on their way home, but today the alley was almost deserted.

Maybe I just got lucky, he thought, figuring at least that meant he could get home a little faster, and with that in mind, he continued walking.

Just as he reached the middle of the alley and passed beneath one of the streetlights, he came to an abrupt stop.

Someone was standing in front of him.

Hiroshi blinked, confused about where the man had come from, since there hadn’t been anyone there just a moment ago. He rubbed his eyes, but the figure remained.

Slowly, the man stepped into the light.

He couldn’t have been much older than Hiroshi himself. Shoulder-length white hair fell loosely over his shoulders, part of it tied back in a relaxed half ponytail, and he wore a plain black T-shirt, faded jeans, and a worn leather jacket. Several piercings and long earrings caught the light, but what stood out most were his eyes.

At first glance, they seemed brown, yet there was something reddish shimmering within them, almost as though a faint fire were burning deep inside.

Hiroshi realized he had been staring at the stranger for far too long and, embarrassed, cleared his throat.

Get a grip.

He was probably just a cosplayer on his way to some event. In Tokyo, that wasn’t unusual at all—Hiroshi had seen far more extravagant outfits.

He gave a small shake of his head, straightened his posture, and tried to walk past the man, but the stranger calmly stepped to the side, just enough to block his path, and then smiled—at least with his mouth, because his eyes didn’t.

"Hiroshi Yamada," the stranger said calmly. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

Startled, Hiroshi took half a step back, his mind racing as he tried to understand how this man knew his name. He was certain they had never met before, and besides, he hardly knew anyone in this neighborhood.

"I... I..." he stammered before clearing his throat. "Do we know each other?"

"No," the stranger replied calmly, his voice steady as he remained exactly where he was. "But it's about time we got to know each other."

Hiroshi's thoughts immediately began to race as he tried to make sense of the situation he had somehow stumbled into.

Then, all at once, something came back to him.

A few weeks earlier, Nakamura-san had mentioned a new kind of scam.

Scammers, she had called them.

Attractive young men who approached strangers on the street, quickly gained their trust, and eventually tricked them out of large sums of money.

That had to be it.

He still had no idea how this man knew his name, but surely people like that had ways of getting hold of personal information.

Maybe that was part of their strategy: creating a false sense of familiarity so their targets would trust them more easily.

Hiroshi had always assumed they mainly targeted young women.

Perhaps he had simply been mistaken.

Feeling reassured by his own reasoning, Hiroshi straightened his back, met the young man's gaze, and said in a calm, composed voice,

"Thank you very much for your interest, but I'm not interested in a romantic relationship with you. Besides, you're not really my type."

With that, he stepped forward decisively, intending to walk straight past him.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the man's expression shift completely.

Apparently, he had expected many things.

Just not that.

After Hiroshi had taken a few steps, he heard the man call after him.

"Hey, wait a second! That's not what I... I mean... Why would you even say something like that? And what do you mean, I'm not your type?"

He sounded genuinely offended.

"I'm everyone's type."

With a few easy strides, he caught up to Hiroshi and once again stepped into his path.

"Still not interested," Hiroshi said firmly.

By now, even he was beginning to feel a little ridiculous.

He took a small step to the side, hoping to simply walk around the man this time. At the same time, his eyes wandered down the street. Maybe someone would come by, just in case he needed to ask for help.

The stranger raised both hands in a calming gesture.

"Wait. I'm not some admirer."

He frowned, as though searching for the best way to explain himself.

Then he straightened up, looked Hiroshi directly in the eyes, and said with the same matter-of-fact tone someone might use to state their profession,

"I'm a god."

Author's Note

Well... that wasn't exactly the best first impression. 😅

Thanks so much for reading! If you enjoyed the chapter, I'd really appreciate a like, a comment, or a subscription.

See you in the next chapter!