Chapter Text
The multi-media entertainment shop opened in Morioh around a year ago. What used to be a quaint bookstore, owned by an elderly couple on the verge of retirement, found a new owner in a far too enthusiastic man that wanted to relocate to his hometown. He brought with him a singular employee to help him revamp the store and look after it when he’s out.
That man was your older brother, that singular employee was you. With your parents now living overseas, going with your brother back to your hometown of Morioh seemed like your best option. You wouldn’t be alone and you could indulge in a bit of nostalgia before you go back to Tokyo. It would only be for a little while…three months tops.
What happened to that plan? You groggily unlock the front door to the shop and slip inside, your hand moving on muscle memory to the light switch. Shelves of books, DVD’s, VHS tapes, vinyl records, board games, card game packs, and assorted anime-related merchandise greet you as you stand there wondering how three months turned into a year.
What happened to going to college? What happened to returning to Tokyo and getting an apartment, going on dates, pursuing a passion? What happened was that you fell in love. Not so much with a person, but with your quirky little hometown.
You’d forgotten how unusual Morioh is. The general vibe itself, the strangely colored sky, the people, the urban legends. Tokyo had plenty to offer, but Morioh has things you can’t really find anywhere else.
With a yawn, you lock the door behind you and set off to start your opening tasks. Your brother is, once again, out of town on what he calls a “business trip” so you’re in charge of the shop. Not really a big deal, but it is irritating that he won’t tell you the truth about where he’s going.
It’s a Tuesday so business should be slow at least. Nothing exciting, nothing bad, ever happens on a Tuesday. The customers that trickle in are exactly what you’d expect.
A few housewives in search of a new book series, some college students stopping in to grab some manga or check out the music selection. High school kids that skipped class, wandering in to buy some cards. A few middle-aged men slipping in to look at books and ultimately leaving without buying anything. Your brother would be annoyed by that last type of customer, but you get it; the guys just needed somewhere to kill time.
Hours pass and you stand behind the counter, staring out the window and watching the pedestrians walk past. There’s an old episode of “Sailor Moon” playing on the television perched on the shelf behind you, the VCR whirring softly to itself beneath the audio. When a customer steps inside, you call a quiet greeting to him.
“Good afternoon. Is there anything I can help you find?” You flash him a smile on reflex, straightening your posture.
He lingers near the door for a moment before his lips curve into a smile. Not too wide, not too subtle. “Maybe. I’m looking for recommendations. I finished the mystery novel that I picked up last week and I thought you might be able to recommend something new.”
“Oh? You didn’t like that one? It was on the best sellers list.” Your smile begins to fade as he approaches the counter, your eyes subtly lowering.
This man is a regular. He comes in at least once a week, sometimes more. Sometimes during what must be his lunch break at work and sometimes in the evening, after he’s clocked out. You’re used to seeing him in a soft purple suit with a mint green button-down and a tie with a very particular pattern. Today, he’s wearing a white blazer over a dark shirt with a v-neckline. It must be his day off.
“I had such high hopes for it. Everyone at work raved about it, but it just didn’t hold my attention the way I hoped it would.” He’s approaching the counter, his hands tucked into his pockets with that smile still in place. “Could you recommend something a little more gripping? I’ve seen you reading while I’m in the store and you seem to have better taste than my coworkers.”
There’s a rush of warmth to your face when you hear this and your eyes dart away from him. “That’s very flattering, sir. I just have very particular taste. If you want, I can show you a few of my favorites. If you don’t have time to look around, though, I can just make a list-”
“Oh, I have plenty of time today.” There’s something in his gaze when you look his way again. Something buried in those striking bluish eyes that stare back at you so intently. A hint of humor, blended with something bordering on despair. It’s the despair that causes you to make the mistake of reaching out and putting a hand on his arm.
You don’t know that it sends a quiver through him when you do that. You don’t hear the way his breath hitches, the way his heart skips a beat, when he lowers his gaze to your fingernails. They’re painted. Freshly painted a beautiful shade of mint green with a perfect glossy finish. Not a single imperfection, no signs of chipping at the edges.
As quickly as you rest your hand on his arm, you pull it away and begin walking down one of the aisles. Trying to determine what book he might like. That last one that he bought is still really popular, but…you have to agree with him. It was just lacking a certain something. It didn’t grip you the way a good mystery novel should.
You can hear his footsteps behind you as you pause at a particular shelf. It’s packed with older books, secondhand trade-ins, but you know that a particular title was just brought in the other day. Something old, something with a dusty cover and worn pages, but something that will definitely hold his interest.
After showing him a few other titles that you like, the customer decides to purchase three of them. Your top three recommendations. As you write the receipt on the pad behind the counter, you happen to glance across the countertop and find him staring. It seems like his bluish eyes are locked on the pen in your fingers and the way the ballpoint brushes across the paper.
“Is there anything else I can help you with today…Kira-san?” You say his name with a hint of hesitation, almost afraid that he might ask for your pen. It’s your favorite. Something you picked up in Tokyo before moving to Morioh.
His eyes lift to meet yours and he shakes his head. “No, this should be fine. Thank you.”
Watching him gather his books and turn away, you realize that your muscles had been tensed all throughout the purchase. The bell above the door chimes as he leaves and you’re left alone in the shop. Alone to stretch your arms over your head and let your muscles relax.
Kira Yoshikage. He’s been a regular at the shop for a while. You’ve spoken to him many times before. So why did it feel so tense today, when he watched you write the receipt? A prickly tension that even now has you frowning to yourself.
Why did it feel like that? You were talking about books. Having a pleasant, perfectly normal conversation. Nothing was different from your usual interactions with customers. It doesn’t make sense that you would feel so…on edge…just from catching him watch you write.
Push it to the back of your mind. There’s no reason to keep dwelling on it. You can’t be distracted while you work. Besides, if you keep thinking about it, it’s just going to make you feel paranoid for the rest of the day.
The “Sailor Moon” VHS is changed out for the next one and you hum along to the opening theme song as you walk down the aisles. With business as slow as it is now, you have time to check the shelves. Make sure nothing is out of place, make sure that none of your previous customers left a mess where they were browsing.
At the same time that you stumble across a very smudged anime figure display case, your next customer is approaching. Kishibe Rohan is steadily making his way to the store, walking down the sidewalk with a frown in place. It wasn’t his intention to visit your store today. No, his intention was to make progress on the one shot that he promised to complete by the end of the month. Yet here he is, slipping into the entertainment shop.
It's a ridiculous name. Your brother does realize that, doesn’t he? He could have just as easily called it a bookstore and no one would have complained. Rohan can’t help thinking that your brother did it on purpose, to try to make it sound superior to the other bookstore in town.
Pausing in front of the shop and looking in through the window, he assures himself that this is for research purposes only. It isn’t as if he wanted to see you or ask your opinion on the one shot he has planned. It isn’t as if Rohan was lonely or something. No, he’s just stopping in to grab some reference materials.
He would never admit it, but he may have bitten off more than he can chew with this one shot. He was confident that he had all of the material he needed to be able to write a compelling one shot, but he’s been at it for a while and it just doesn’t flow the way it should. It lacks something, but he just isn’t quite sure what it is.
When he steps into the shop, Rohan is first greeted by the sight of “Sailor Moon” playing on the little television behind the counter. He sees your usual spot empty, but doesn’t have to wait long to find out where you went. You’re calling your usual greeting from the anime section.
Walking through the aisles, he finds you on your knees with your back to him. Furiously scrubbing at the glass display case that holds the more expensive figurines, unaware of his presence in the aisle. Crossing his arms, Rohan leans on one hip and taps his foot against the tiled floor. “This is awful customer service.”
You jolt, nearly dropping the cleaning wipe from your hand. With your heart racing, you turn to find one of your regulars. One of your favorite regulars. Standing there with his greenish eyes narrowed, a displeased frown settled on his lips, the mangaka waits for your response.
“Sorry! Do you need help with finding anything?” Pushing yourself to stand, you brush dust off your knees and hope that he doesn’t notice the warm tint to your cheeks.
“I’m not interrupting something important, am I?” Not that he would care if he was. Clearly, you’re just doing your job and part of your job is indulging your customers. “I need reference materials for my manga. I’m working on a one shot that’s slightly different from my usual work.”
“Oh? Is it more of a science fiction story?” Your interest is piqued. It isn’t uncommon for Rohan to come in and buy reference materials, but it’s rare that he asks for help finding something.
“No. The genre is closer to true crime…” He trails off as he studies you, a slight tilt to his head. “Tell me. Do you have any experience with stalkers?”
“Stalkers?” It throws you off a bit. Tucking your hands into your pockets, you frown. Some of the girls you went to school with in Tokyo had experienced being stalked, but you never encountered it. “I don’t really have any experience with them.”
“I see.” Realizing that he couldn’t simply open your pages and use your experience for reference material, he lets a sigh slip past his lips. “Alright. Just show me to your true crime section, then. I suppose I can work with those.”
Rohan walks behind you at a distance, still frowning to himself. Honestly, it would have been better if you had been stalked. The best reference material comes from experience. It’s more organic, more realistic. He wants to capture the gut-clenching fear that prey would feel, the twisted thrill that a stalker would experience from closing in on their object of obsession.
He doesn’t have those experiences. Of course, he’s been followed before, but it wasn’t quite the same as stalking. More to the point, it wasn’t the same flavor of obsession as the one he’s supposed to write about. Honestly, it would be perfect if he could get the experience from both sides; the stalker and the stalked.
You’ve stopped ahead of him, in the middle of an aisle, and you’re speaking. Smiling as you recommend a few true crime novels, holding one out to him. It’s in that moment that he sees the perfect opportunity to get all of the reference material he needs.
He visits the store often enough that he would dare to call you a friend. As much of a friend as Koichi, perhaps more, because you’re closer to his own age. If he wants to gain the experience of a stalker and be able to gather the experience of a stalker’s prey, then surely you won’t mind helping him out. You’ve helped him before with gathering reference material.
Rohan buys a few books, but he doesn’t really care about them. Just a means to finish the visit and get a final look at you before he leaves. It’s when he gets home that he really starts to consider the idea.
You’re someone that he sees pretty often. Someone he can easily access without raising suspicion. He would ask for your consent before starting this little experiment, but that would ruin the effect. If you know, then you won’t feel that creeping unease that he needs to harness for his work. Not to mention that it would spoil the “stalker’s”, his, own experience.
It needs to be organic. It needs to be real. He can collect everything he needs from your pages when he visits and it will make for an excellent one shot. Now the problem lies in how to become a stalker.
For the flavor of obsession he needs to write about it, he needs this to have a romantic flare. He could just write it into his pages that he’s obsessed with you, but again, that would feel fake. It wouldn’t hold the same magnitude as an organic obsession.
No, he’s going to need to become truly obsessed. As he leans back in the seat at his desk, Rohan looks out the window at the gathering storm clouds. It might mean more frequent trips to your brother’s shop, but Rohan is sure that he can fixate on you. There are already things that he likes about you; he just needs to become fully infatuated.