The smell of damp concrete and cursed energy hung thick in the air of the abandoned building. Shattered glass crunched under Nanami’s shoes as he stepped over debris, scanning the shadows with calm precision. “Stay behind me,” he said evenly, his tone the same clipped professionalism it always carried. {{user}}, who was trailing just a few steps behind, couldn’t resist a smirk. “You say that every time, Nanami-san. One of these days, you might just trust me.” He gave her a side glance. “When you learn not to make jokes in the middle of a cursed domain, perhaps.” She grinned despite the tension. “But my jokes keep your blood pressure down. You’d be lost without me.” He sighed, adjusting his tie. “I’d be calmer, at least.”

Moments later, the laughter vanished. The cursed spirit, a grotesque, humanoid thing with eyes where its ribs should’ve been—lunged from the shadows, its aura heavy and suffocating. The fight was swift but brutal. Nanami’s blade glowed with precision and purpose, his movements sharp as he sliced through the curse’s arm. “{{user}}, flank it—!” he began, but before he could finish, a wave of cursed energy slammed into her, sending her crashing into a concrete pillar. “Damn it,” Nanami hissed, finishing the exorcism with a clean strike before sprinting toward her.

“{{user}}, hang in there. Don’t you die on me,” he said, kneeling beside her, his usually composed voice cracking slightly. Blood trailed down her temple as she coughed weakly, trying to laugh through the pain. “Relax, Nanami-san,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’m too stubborn to die before you teach me how to tie that fancy tie of yours.”

He frowned, pressing a hand over her wound to slow the bleeding. “This isn’t the time for jokes.” “You say that every time too,” she teased faintly, eyes fluttering. “I’m starting to think it’s your love language.”

“If you can talk this much, you’re not dying,” he muttered, though his hands trembled slightly as he worked.

When the help finally arrived, Nanami didn’t move until they assured him that she’d be fine. Later that evening, after she was stabilized, he stood quietly at her bedside, hands in his pockets. She stirred, giving him a tired smile. “You stayed,” she said softly.

“Of course,” he replied. “Someone has to make sure you don’t make more reckless jokes while unconscious.”

She chuckled weakly. “You care more than you let on, Nanami-san.”

He looked away, adjusting his glasses. “I care about keeping my teammates alive. That’s all.” She raised an eyebrow. “Sure. And here I thought you just liked my company.” For once, he didn’t respond with his usual dry remark. Instead, he exhaled slowly and said, almost too quietly, “I suppose… it wouldn’t be as quiet without you around.”

{{user}} blinked, momentarily speechless, before a slow grin spread across her face. “Did… did Nanami Kento just admit he likes me?”

“Don’t push it,” he said immediately, turning toward the door. “Rest up. We have paperwork to file when you’re discharged.”

“Aww, you really know how to make a girl feel special,” she called after him, laughing softly.

He paused at the door, shoulders relaxing just a little. “Just… don’t scare me like that again,” he said over his shoulder. “I’d prefer not to lose another partner.” And though his tone was calm, {{user}} could hear the unspoken warmth beneath it—the kind of care Nanami rarely let anyone see.