Chapter complete
You finished The Run (Ch.30) of Dead Hours. Nice roost to rest at.
Enjoyed this chapter? You can support Inkroost directly.
Support on PatreonText Version A written companion to this chapter — for accessibility, screen readers, and search.
3 A.M., rain on the dead-hours store. For no reason anyone can name, every single customer tonight walks in and buys bananas — nothing else, just bananas. Kaito, who lives for the sacred quiet of the dead hours, is instead thrown into a demand he cannot explain: the banana crate empties as fast as he can restock it, and he becomes obsessed not with the shortage but with WHY — a trend, a shortage, an omen, a sign? He restocks feverishly, interrogates the tracksuit regular (who just wanted a banana), rings up a whole surging crowd, and even phones head office to ask if there is 'a banana thing,' each empty crate landing on the identical dead-eyed beat of Kaito holding up the bare crate and muttering '...we're out.' Rin livestreams the whole spiral, dropping hints he never catches — 'saw it online,' 'you'd be surprised what people show up for' — and has one flicker of near-sincerity, that he's the only person alive who'd need to know WHY, before raising her phone again. Near dawn Kaito gives up understanding and builds a triumphant mountain of bananas so he'll never be caught empty again, then springs up eager with a full crate when the doors ding — the running beat inverted — only for the customer to wave it off and ask for a coffee: the demand has simply stopped. Then Rin turns her phone around: she posted a video the moment they clocked in — 'best bananas at 3 A.M.' — that hit four hundred thousand viewers and sent the whole city's night-owls to the store. The cause he hunted for six hours was sitting beside him all night. One banana is left on the counter; Kaito reaches to finally hold the thing that ruined his shift, and Rin plucks it and bites it on camera. Kaito gets nothing, not even the banana. Dawn light fills the spotless store exactly as the night began — and a fresh delivery crate of bananas is set down as a new customer heads straight for it, Rin's phone already raised, already live.
Page 1
Page 1. A wide establishing shot of the convenience store in the small hours. Fluorescent lights buzz overhead, rain streaks the front windows, and the street outside is empty. Kaito, the tired clerk in a striped apron with a KAITO name tag, stands calmly behind the register with his hands on the counter. Rin, the younger clerk in a hoodie under her apron with a RIN name tag, sits on a stool nearby, one earbud in, scrolling her phone. On the counter sits a small cardboard crate full of bunches of bananas. Kaito (thought): Three A.M. The dead hours. Finally — the store is mine.
Page 2
Page 2, four panels. Panel 1: the sliding glass doors part and a rumpled, flushed salaryman with a loosened tie steps in out of the rain. Panel 2: he strides past the snack shelves straight to the counter crate and grabs a bunch of bananas. Panel 3: he sets the bananas on the counter in front of Kaito. Salaryman: Just these. Panel 4: close on Kaito ringing it up, one eyebrow faintly raised. Kaito (thought): Bananas. At three in the morning. ...Sure.
Page 3
Page 3, four panels. Panel 1: the doors ding and a cheerful jogger in a track top and headband jogs in. Panel 2: the jogger goes straight to the counter crate and lifts a bunch of bananas; the crate is now half empty. Panel 3: at the counter the jogger beams and holds up the bananas. Jogger: Saw this place online — you've got the bananas, right? Panel 4: Kaito frowns slightly toward Rin, who sits with her phone raised and a tiny smirk. Kaito: ...Online? Rin: Mm-hm.
Page 4
Page 4, three panels. Panel 1: a customer leans over the counter toward the crate. Customer: Bananas? Panel 2: the recurring beat — a clean medium shot of Kaito holding up the empty cardboard crate at chest height, flat dead eyes. Kaito: ...We're out. Panel 3: Kaito turns and crouches to a stock box behind the counter, jaw tight. Kaito (thought): Why is everyone—
Page 5
Page 5, six panels of back-and-forth. Panel 1: Kaito leans across the counter toward Rin, holding up several fingers. Kaito: Six people. Six. All bananas. Panel 2: Rin, half-lidded, not looking up from her phone. Rin: It's a fruit. Panel 3: Kaito leans in harder, both hands flat on the counter. Kaito: At 3 A.M.? Nobody wants a banana at 3 A.M. Panel 4: Rin gives a tiny shrug, still scrolling. Rin: You'd be surprised what people show up for. Panel 5: Kaito throws his arms wide, wild-eyed. Kaito: It has to MEAN something. A shortage? A trend? A sign? Panel 6: Rin turns her phone to speak flatly into it. Rin: He thinks a banana is a sign.
Page 6
Page 6, a single large panel. Kaito is crouched behind the counter, tipping a large cardboard box so that many bunches of bananas spill into the counter crate until it is heaped full. His jaw is set with grim determination. Kaito (thought): Fine. Then I'll just never run out.
Page 7
Page 7, five panels. Panel 1: the doors ding and the tracksuit regular enters — tall, shaved head, grey zip-up tracksuit, a clear plastic bag of empty cans in one hand. Panel 2: he walks to the counter crate and takes a single bunch of bananas. Panel 3: Kaito lunges across the counter toward him, gripping the edge. Kaito: You. Have you ever seen a run like this? Bananas. Tonight. Panel 4: the regular blinks, blank, holding his bananas and his bag of cans. Regular: ...I just wanted a banana. Panel 5: close on Kaito with a thousand-yard stare. Kaito (thought): Nobody knows. Nobody ever knows.
Page 8
Page 8, six panels, the demand at its peak. Panel 1: a small crowd of night-shift customers streams in through the sliding doors at once. Panel 2: several hands grab banana bunches out of the counter crate from every direction. Panel 3: Kaito rings up frantically behind the register, sweating, wide comedic eyes. Kaito: Bananas — next — bananas — Panel 4: the crate rapidly emptying, only stems and a couple of bananas left. Panel 5: the recurring beat again — Kaito holds up the empty crate at chest height, flat dead eyes, a customer's hand reaching into frame. Kaito: ...We're out. Panel 6: Kaito slumps, shoulders sagging over the empty crate. Customer: Aww.
Page 9
Page 9, five panels. Panel 1: Kaito holds the store's beige landline handset to his ear, pinching the bridge of his nose. Panel 2: he talks into the handset, desperate and earnest. Kaito: Yes — is there a banana thing? A national — a banana thing? Panel 3: Rin films him over the counter, deadpan. Rin: He's asking head office about a banana thing. Panel 4: Kaito deflates, the handset drooping from his ear, on hold. Panel 5: close-up as Kaito holds a single banana up at eye level, staring at it like evidence. Kaito (thought): What ARE you.
Page 10
Page 10, three panels. Panel 1: the doors ding and a customer approaches the counter, hopeful. Customer: Any bananas left? Panel 2: the recurring beat a third time — same framing, Kaito holds up the empty crate, but now bloodshot, hollow and slightly deranged. Kaito: ...We're out. Panel 3: the customer leans back, faintly alarmed, edging away.
Page 11
Page 11, five panels. Panel 1: Kaito sinks onto the stool beside Rin, hollow, holding a lone banana. Panel 2: he stares at the ceiling. Kaito: When did we become the banana place? Panel 3: he turns to Rin, deadly earnest. Kaito: A store is what it sells. If they all come for bananas... is that all we are now? Panel 4: Rin glances sideways at him, half-lidded. Rin: It's a konbini, Kaito. Panel 5: Kaito stares blankly forward. Kaito: It's a banana konbini now.
Page 12
Page 12, three panels — Rin's flicker of near-sincerity. Panel 1: close on Rin, phone lowered slightly, actually looking at Kaito for once. Rin: ...You really need to know why, huh. Panel 2: a rare gentle beat. Rin: Nobody else would even ask. Panel 3: she raises her phone again, back to flat and unbothered. Rin: Anyway.
Page 13
Page 13, a single silent panel with no dialogue. A wide, quiet shot of the empty store. Rain is still faint through the windows and the fluorescent lights hum. Kaito stands small and alone at the counter beside a half-restocked crate of bananas, motionless. The dead-hours quiet he wanted has finally returned — for a moment.
Page 14
Page 14, three panels. Panel 1: Kaito hauls a huge cardboard box out from the back room, arms straining. Panel 2: he piles an enormous mountain of banana bunches onto and around the counter crate, a serene almost-smile forming. Rin: That's a lot of bananas. Panel 3: Kaito stands guard over the towering banana pile, hands on his hips, calm and ready. Kaito (thought): Let them come. I'm ready now.
Page 15
Page 15, four panels — the inversion of the running gag. Panel 1: same framing as the empty-crate beat, but now Kaito springs up eagerly holding up a full crate heaped with bananas, hopeful and bright. Kaito: We have bananas! Panel 2: a calm night-owl customer in a plain jacket waves a hand, indifferent. Customer: Oh — nah. Just a coffee, thanks. Panel 3: Kaito freezes mid-offer, still holding up the full crate, beginning to deflate. Panel 4: close on Kaito, quiet dawning horror. Kaito (thought): ...It stopped?
Page 16
Page 16, four panels — the reveal. Panel 1: Rin finally turns her phone to face Kaito; the screen shows a thumbnail of her grinning and holding up a banana. Panel 2: Rin, flat and matter-of-fact. Rin: Posted it when we clocked in. 'Best bananas at 3 A.M.' Panel 3: she holds the phone steady. Rin: Four hundred thousand people. They came for the video. Panel 4: Kaito, wide-eyed, the realization landing. Kaito: It was you. It was you the whole—
Page 17
Page 17, four panels — the honest button. Panel 1: on the counter, a single lone banana rests on the empty crate under the fluorescent light. Panel 2: Kaito's hand reaches slowly for it, exhausted, almost reverent. Kaito (thought): Mine. Just this one— Panel 3: close on Rin, who has already taken the banana and bites into it, holding it to her mouth with one hand, half-lidded and satisfied. Rin: Best bananas at 3 A.M. Panel 4: Kaito stares down at his own empty open hand, dead-eyed and utterly defeated.
Page 18
Page 18, a single panel mirroring the opening. Warm dawn daylight now floods through the front windows; the rain is gone and the store is spotless. The banana crate on the counter is empty. Kaito stands exactly where he began, wrung out, while Rin's phone is already raised and filming. Behind them the sliding doors are parting as a fresh delivery crate of bananas is set down just inside, and a new customer is already heading straight for it. Customer: ...You got bananas? Kaito (thought): ...No.