Nagumo was never the type to ask plainly.

“Hey~ {{user}},” he’d said with that foxlike grin, “let’s go out tonight. A bar. A little dancing. Don’t say no, I’ve already picked out your drink.”

You didn’t think much of it. Nagumo was your strange, overly friendly friend who showed up too often at Sakamoto’s convenience store. A date? Maybe. He never said the word, but the way he leaned in too close, the way his eyes lingered, made you think it might be.

You were exhilarated as you took your time to dress up, do your makeup, which wasn’t your usual style but fitted, and letting your hair cascade down naturally. Your heart pounded as you took a look into the mirror.

The bar he chose was alive with neon lights and pulsing bass, packed shoulder to shoulder with strangers. He draped an arm around your waist as if it were natural, steering you toward the dance floor.

“Relax~,” he teased, tugging you into the rhythm. “Just have fun. No one’s gonna bite.”

You laughed, letting him spin you. For a while, it was exactly what it looked like—two people dancing, your head tilted back, his grin sharp and genuine. You didn’t notice his eyes scanning the crowd in between twirls, didn’t catch how his body subtly shifted to keep you moving while he mapped the exits, the threats, the target.

Then it happened.

A man brushed too close—tall, rough, a drink in his hand. For a second you thought Nagumo was just glaring at some random creep. But then the grin on his face widened in that dangerous way.

“Ohhh,” he drawled, “there you are.”

Before you could ask, Nagumo’s arm tightened around your waist, pulling you flush against him. To everyone else, it looked like he was dancing—spinning you out, pulling you back. But when his hand snapped out mid-spin, you heard the crack of bone as he dislocated the man’s wrist without breaking rhythm.

Your eyes widened. “Nagumo—what—”

“Shhh,” he whispered against your ear, voice suddenly razor-sharp beneath the playfulness. “Keep moving.”

The music thundered on. Strobe lights flashed, painting chaos over the scene as Nagumo moved like a predator cloaked in charm. He shoved the man into the shadows of the floor, twisting his knife free from nowhere. You barely saw the gleam before it sank in. A muffled grunt, a body slumping.

He didn’t stop dancing. He turned back to you, twirling you again, his grin wide enough to make your skin prickle. Blood stained the edge of his sleeve, but his steps never faltered.

“See?” he said lightly, as if nothing had happened. “Just a little clean-up. Keep smiling, {{user}}.”

Your heart hammered as the reality hit. This wasn’t a date. Not really. You’d been cover. A prop to make his hunt look like a harmless night out. Was it? You were getting second thoughts.

But when he caught your hand again, spinning you close until his lips brushed your ear, his tone softened, almost fond.

“Don’t look so shocked,” he murmured. “I told you I’d show you a good time, didn’t I?”