Kenji set down the stack. He understood. The weight of too many choices, the fear of picking the wrong thing and losing the thread entirely. He’d been there himself, after his dad got sick and reading felt like a luxury he couldn’t afford.

Finally, she approached the counter, holding nothing. Her voice was soft, almost lost. "I… used to read a lot. In middle school. Naruto . Fruits Basket . But I stopped. Now I don't know where to begin."

She blinked. "I don't know. Something… that feels like coming home. But also new."

Five minutes passed. Ten. He watched from the corner of his eye as she drifted past the new releases, the staff picks, the wall of mainstream hits. She’d pick up a volume of Jujutsu Kaisen , stare at the cover, then put it back. Same with Chainsaw Man . My Hero Academia got a sigh.

The fluorescent lights of the "Manga & More" shop hummed a familiar tune, one that twenty-three-year-old Kenji had heard every day for the past three years. He was stacking new arrivals—another volume of that shonen about pirate chefs—when the bell above the door jingled.

Kenji went back to stacking the pirate chef manga, but he left one spot empty on the shelf. Just in case someone else walked in, lost, and needing a place to start.

"That’s just the beginning," Kenji said, surprising himself with his own smile. "Come back when you finish Frieren . I’ll have more ready."