The 7-Eleven was unusually quiet for a Friday night, the hum of the refrigerators sounding like a low-pitched choir. But the atmosphere inside the manager’s office was anything but peaceful.
Tanaka-san, the manager, was rubbing his temples, staring at a tablet screen. "The regional manager is coming for a surprise audit on Monday. Our inventory numbers for the 'Fresh Food' and 'Seasonal Goods' sections are a mess. If the numbers don't match the stock, it's my neck."
He looked up at Rika and Rentaro, who were standing side-by-side in their matching uniforms.
"I need my two smartest workers to stay late tonight. Count every single item in Aisle 4 and the cold storage. Cross-reference it with the digital ledger. If you finish it perfectly by dawn, there’s a 'performance bonus' in it for both of you. Cash."
Rika’s eyes widened. A cash bonus meant she could finally afford a real pillow and maybe even a small microwave. Rentaro, however, just narrowed his eyes.
"That's a two-person job for a four-person crew, Tanaka-san," Rentaro noted.
"That’s why I’m giving it to the top students," Tanaka countered with a desperate grin. "Go on. Get to it."
The first hour was a test of patience. Rika was in charge of the digital ledger on the tablet, while Rentaro climbed the ladders and waded into the walk-in freezer.
"Sixteen units of Salmon Onigiri," Rentaro called out, his breath misting in the cold air of the refrigerator.
"Logged," Rika replied, her fingers flying across the screen. "Next."
"Twelve units of Spicy Cod Roe."
"Wait," Rika paused, frowning at the screen. "The system says there should be fourteen. Check the back of the shelf."
Rentaro groaned, reaching into the freezing depths. "Nothing. We’re short two."
"This is inefficient," Rika muttered, her competitive streak flaring up. "If we don't find the discrepancy, the audit fails. Rentaro, move aside. I’ll check the delivery invoices from Tuesday."
For the next three hours, they worked in a feverish, synchronized rhythm. They weren't just coworkers anymore; they were a high-speed data-processing unit. Rika found a clerical error in the dairy logs, while Rentaro spotted a mislabeled crate of seasonal cherry blossom lattes hidden behind the soda stock.
Around 3:30 AM, the exhaustion began to hit. They were sitting on the floor of the snack aisle, surrounded by boxes of chips.
"We’re... we’re actually ahead of schedule," Rika said, leaning her head against a shelf of prawn crackers. Her eyes were drooping.
"Told you," Rentaro said, though he looked equally drained. He opened a bottle of water and handed it to her. "You’re surprisingly good at this, Shinozaki. Most 'honor students' would have quit when the freezer started numbing their toes."
Rika took a sip, the cold water waking her up slightly. "I can't afford to quit. Everything—my room, my food, my future—it all depends on me not failing. Even if it's just counting rice balls."
Rentaro looked at her, really looked at her. The harsh store lighting made her look pale, but there was a fire in her eyes that he respected.
"You know," he said softly, "you don't always have to be at 100%. Even machines need maintenance."
"Is the 'Runner-Up' giving me permission to slack off?" Rika teased, a tired smile tugging at her lips.
"I'm giving you permission to be human," he countered.
The moment was interrupted by the chime of the front door. A group of rowdy customers entered, but before Rika could even tense up, Rentaro was already standing, smoothing his vest.
"I'll handle the front," he said. "You finish the final tally on the tablet. We’re almost there."
As she watched him walk toward the registers, Rika realized that their "secret alliance" was becoming the most stable thing in her life. They were rivals at 8:00 AM, coworkers at 10:00 PM, and neighbors at 2:00 AM. And somewhere in between, they had started becoming a team.
By the time the sun began to peek over the city skyline, they had finished. Tanaka-san arrived, checked the numbers, and let out a roar of relief, handing them each a crisp envelope.
As they walked out of the store into the cool morning air, the "bonus" heavy in their pockets, Rentaro looked at the rising sun.
"Hey, Shinozaki."
"Yes?"
"Don't spend it all on textbooks. Buy a pillow. You’re starting to get a permanent crick in your neck."
Rika laughed—a real, genuine sound that surprised even her. "Only if you promise to buy a new manga. You’ve read that one volume in your room three times already."
Rentaro smirked. "Deal."20Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡBkgLL1trk1
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