The automatic doors of the convenience store slide open with a cheerful chime as I step inside.
"Welcome!" I call instinctively.
It's reflex now—the same as tying your shoes or brushing your teeth.
I head to the backroom and stash my bag, slipping into my apron.
The scent of warm bread, plastic wrap, and floor sanitizer already sinks into my skin.
As I return to the front, Hayato-san is restocking drinks in the cooler, crouched down with a bottle in each hand. He glances up and smirks.
"Yo, Sunshine's here," he says, standing and cracking his back. "About time."
"Sunshine needs to check in before she can save the world," I reply, flashing a mock salute.
Hayato Sugimura-san is a third-year university student; I'm not sure that he's majoring in.
I heard from the manager that he started working at the convenience store in his first year of college—partly to cover tuition, but mostly to escape the noise of his overbearing home life.
His parents constantly pushed him toward a corporate future, but Hayato-san's always been more interested in people than in profit.
He's the kind of guy who listens more than he speaks, observing quietly from the sidelines.
At work, he became known as the "cool older co-worker" because he doesn't take things too seriously—but he actually watches over the younger staff like a big brother.
Hayato-san's been working here longer than I have. He's in college now—tall and lanky, with hair always just slightly too messy to look professional. But he's sharp and laid-back in a way that makes everyone assume he's older than he actually is.
"Shift's yours now," he says, passing the baton. "I'm off to torment the receipt printer."
We trade smiles, and I settle behind the counter.
The early evening crowd begins to shuffle in.
A salaryman comes in first—tie loose, eyes shadowed. He looks like gravity's been pulling on him all day. He grabs a sandwich and a canned coffee, then stares blankly at the energy drinks for a full minute before choosing nothing at all.
As I ring him up, I smile gently.
"Long day, ojisan?" I ask.
He startles, then gives a small, tired nod.
"Well," I say as I hand him his change, "one good cup of coffee can save a soul. Maybe two, if it was a really bad meeting."
That earns a faint chuckle. "You might be right."
He leaves a little lighter.
Then a girl no older than eight waddles up to the counter with an armful of brightly packaged candy. Her coins are clutched in her hands like treasure.
She looks at me nervously.
I crouch a little to meet her eye level. "Big haul today?"
She nods shyly. "It's oniichan's birthday. He likes these."
"That's really sweet of you," I say, and I mean it.
I count the candy carefully and scan what she can afford, sneaking in one extra on the house and giving her a wink.
She gasps and clutches the bag with both hands before scurrying out the door like a tiny raccoon.
The minutes tick by—fluorescent lighting, jingling doors, plastic crinkling, digital beeps.
Eventually, Hayato-san comes over, two bottled teas in hand.
He passes one to me and jerks his head toward the break corner.
"Come on, break time. Even the sun needs to recharge."
I take the tea, gratefully. "Thanks. I was starting to overheat."
We sit in the cramped employee nook, lit by a weak overhead bulb that hums quietly.
Hayato-san leans back, slouching in his chair as he sips.
"You know," he says casually, "for someone who's always smiling, you sure zone out a lot."
I raise a brow.
"Wow, Hayato-san. Are you calling me fake?"
He grins.
"Nah. Just observant. You're always doing something for other people. Cracking jokes, smoothing things over. It's like... you're trying to keep everything from tipping over."
As expected of the "cool older co-worker". He really did fit the title.
I look down at my tea, fingers circling the condensation on the bottle.
"Maybe I am," I say. "Or maybe I'm just… trying to figure out if anyone sees me when I'm not smiling."
Hayato-san watches me for a second. "You mean, like, the real you?"
"…I'm not entirely sure myself, either," I say. "There's this whole other kind of connection I haven't found yet. Something real, and quiet, and honest. Not just laughs and convenience.
He nods slowly.
"That's pretty heavy for someone who just gave a kid free candy."
"Even raccoons deserve happiness," I mutter.
That gets a short laugh from him, the easy kind.
He was the only person that I could ever unload my feelings on, whether it would be a secret or not. He's kind of like a free therapist.
The break ends
We get up, back to work.
Customers come and go.
Another shift, another rhythm.
But even as I return to the counter, smiling like I always do, there's a thread of thought tugging gently at me.
I bring joy to people. I know I do.
But it always feels like joy on a surface that no one's brave enough to dig beneath.
And maybe, just maybe… I'm getting tired of being the sun.