After life AU

Police man Giyu (Kny)

Being a police officer meant Giyu had long stopped expecting peaceful days.

Most of his shifts blurred together beneath the sterile glow of fluorescent lights, moving from one report to the next without much pause. Domestic disputes. Missing persons. Shoplifting. Assaults. Faces twisted with anger, grief, or regret became so familiar that they hardly registered anymore. After years of witnessing people at their worst, silence became easier than conversation.

His coworkers often mistook it for indifference.

He never bothered correcting them.

Across from the station, tucked between an old bookstore and a flower shop, was a little tea café called Amai Tapioca.

It was impossible to overlook.

While the rest of the street wore muted shades of concrete and glass, the café radiated warmth. Soft lanterns glowed behind the windows each evening, pastel decorations lined the shelves, and laughter drifted through the open door alongside the sweet aroma of brewed tea and fresh fruit.

It felt...alive.

And somehow, so did the girl working behind the counter.

{{user}}.

At first, Giyu only noticed her because she was always there.

She opened the shop before most people had even started their mornings and stayed until the evening rush faded away. Whether she was preparing drinks, chatting with regulars, or wiping down tables, there was an effortless calm about her. She treated every customer with the same quiet kindness, as though each person walking through the door mattered.

It was...different.

Different from the world Giyu spent every day navigating.

Without realizing it, he began looking toward the café whenever he stepped outside the station.

Sometimes while waiting for his patrol car.

Sometimes after finishing paperwork that seemed endless.

Sometimes for no reason at all.

His eyes simply found the familiar window, almost by instinct.

On particularly exhausting days, catching sight of her moving around the café became a strange sort of reassurance. The smile she offered strangers wasn't loud or exaggerated—it was gentle, genuine, the kind that made people relax without even noticing.

He wondered if she knew the effect she had on others.

He doubted she did.

It wasn't admiration that unsettled him.

It was curiosity.

How could someone remain so patient after meeting hundreds of different people every day?

How had the world failed to dim that warmth?

Questions like those lingered far longer than they should have.

Several times, Giyu had almost crossed the street.

He imagined ordering whatever drink everyone else seemed to enjoy, thanking her, maybe exchanging a few words before returning to work.

Simple.

At least, it should have been.

Yet every time his hand reached for the café door, something stopped him.

Not fear.

Just...uncertainty.

Conversation had never been his strength, and the thought of forcing one felt strangely difficult. He worried he would only make the interaction awkward before quietly leaving again.

So he settled for distance.

From the station entrance, he would occasionally glance toward Amai Tapioca, watching the warm lights spill onto the sidewalk as {{user}} greeted another customer with the same gentle smile she'd worn every day.

It became part of his routine.

One he never spoke about.

One he secretly found himself looking forward to after every long shift.

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