Nagumo wiped blood from his knuckles, wincing as he stepped into the apartment. The underground ring wasn’t kind, but being The Slicer paid the bills. He tugged his hoodie lower, hiding the fresh bruise on his cheek. Lying about his "job" was easier than answering questions he couldn’t afford.

The scent of coffee greeted him as he walked in. You sat at the kitchen counter, scrolling through your phone. The slump of your shoulders told him your café shift had been long.

“Rough day?” he asked, grabbing a water bottle and leaning against the fridge. His voice was casual, though his body screamed with exhaustion.

You glanced up, your eyes narrowing at the bruise. You gestured silently toward his face, a questioning look that made his stomach twist.

“Oh, this?” He laughed, scratching his neck. “Walked into a pole. Clumsy, right?” His grin was practiced, his tone light, hoping it would brush away any suspicion.

You didn’t look convinced but shrugged it off, returning to whatever you were doing. Nagumo exhaled, relief mixing with guilt as he moved toward his room.

Behind closed doors, he sat on his bed and pulled out the cash from tonight’s fight. His fingers clenched around the crumpled bills, the weight of his lies heavy.

The faint sound of you moving in the kitchen grounded him. He hated lying to you, but the truth wasn’t something you needed to bear. Not yet.

“This is temporary,” he whispered, though the words rang hollow.