#my pace

The days had blurred together in that quiet, heavy way they sometimes did when the world felt a little too empty. You hadn’t seen him in almost a week. No tall shadow falling into step beside you on the usual route. No patient voice cutting through the noise with a simple “Hey, kid.” No shared bags or warm broth or the steady rhythm of footsteps matching yours.

You told yourself it was fine. People got busy. Life moved at its own pace, not yours. But the ache still settled in your chest every time you passed the ramen spot or the grocery aisle where you’d first run into him again. You fidgeted with the strap of your bag more than usual, fingers twisting the fabric until it creased.

Tonight was no different. The sun had dipped low, painting the streets in bruised oranges and deepening shadows. You’d put off the tax thing long enough. The funky little ad you’d found tucked in your mailbox promised cheap help: “Taxes done quick and easy for just a few dollars!” And with your budget, it sounded like a lifeline. Probably too good to be true, but you were tired and the deadline was creeping up.

The office was in a part of town you didn’t usually go. Narrow streets, flickering streetlights, buildings that looked like they’d seen better decades. Your steps slowed the closer you got, shoulders curling in as the noise of distant traffic and muffled voices pressed against your ears. You clutched the strap of your bag tighter, breathing slow like you practiced. Just get it done. Then you can go home, make tea, curl up with Trixie, and pretend the week hadn’t felt so… empty.

That’s when you saw him.

A little boy, maybe eight or nine, standing near the corner of the sketchy building. Dark spiky hair, serious expression, arms crossed like he was trying to look tougher than the night around him. He was alone. No adults in sight. And something about him; the shape of his eyes, the intensity tugged at the back of your mind like a half-remembered dream.

Your feet stopped before your brain caught up. Heart picking up, you glanced around again. No one else seemed to notice him. The worry bloomed fast and warm in your chest, the same way it did whenever you saw something small and vulnerable out in the big loud world. You shifted on your feet, cheeks already heating with embarrassment. What if he thinks I’m weird? What if his parents are just inside? But the thought of leaving him here, at night, in this part of town… you couldn’t.

Swallowing hard, you took a few hesitant steps closer, voice soft and a little shaky. “Um… excuse me?” The boy looked up, green eyes sharp and wary. You fidgeted with your bag strap again, avoiding direct eye contact but trying to look kind. “Are… are your parents around? It’s getting late and… this doesn’t seem like a very safe spot for you to be by yourself.” Your words tumbled out quieter than you wanted, face burning.

He shrugged, expression closing off. “Don’t know. Don’t care where my old man is or what he’s doing.” Your brow furrowed gently. Old man? You’d asked about parents — plural. The answer felt… off. Sad, almost. But you didn’t push. Instead, the worry only grew. “I-I know it’s none of my business,” you continued, voice soft and embarrassed, “but… it’s nighttime and there are weird people sometimes. Could you maybe head home? Or… or call someone? I just… I’d feel better if I knew you were safe.”

He stared at you like you’d grown a second head. Irritation flickered across his face, mixed with confusion. “Why do you care? You don’t even know me.” Your fingers twisted the bag strap harder. Heat crawled up your neck. “I know. I’m sorry. I just… I worry. About kids out alone. It’s probably silly.” You offered a small, shy smile because you were too busy fighting the urge to apologize again. He was quiet for a long moment. Then, with a huff that sounded way too world-weary for his age, he muttered, “Fine. Whatever. I’ll go.”

Relief washed over you, soft and warm. Before he could turn away completely, you added quickly, “My name is Y/N. Um, you can call me if you ever need anything or just… be safe, okay?” You told him your name, voice barely above the hum of the streetlights. He paused, glancing back with that same guarded look. For a second you thought he wouldn’t say anything. Then, almost reluctantly, he mumbled something that sounded like “Megumi”... you think, before shoving his hands in his pockets and walking off.

Megumi. You repeated it softly to yourself, a tiny smile tugging at your lips despite everything. Cute name. You hoped he’d make it home okay.

The encounter left you feeling a little lighter even as you finally stepped toward the tax office door. The worry for the boy lingered, but so did a strange sense of… connection? Like the universe had nudged you for a reason. You pushed the door open, the fluorescent lights buzzing overhead making you wince slightly. Just get through this, Y/N. Then you can go home.

Hello Everyone!

I am very sorry for the 7th month break on this series. So, I hope you enjoy this chapter!

✩˚｡⋆ Written with love by mintedmomments ⋆｡˚✩

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