It was strange—almost jarring—how the past had a way of sneaking back into the present. Years had passed since graduation, since the days at JCC where every lesson was a test of survival and every bond forged was one step away from betrayal. You hadn’t expected to see familiar faces again, least of all here—inside a small, unassuming grocery store run by the once-legendary assassin, Sakamoto himself.

You had come expecting the scent of fresh produce, the easy hum of suburban peace. Instead, you froze at the sight before you.

Yoichi Nagumo—member of The Order, was tied to a chair in the middle of the shop. His wrists bound neatly, his legs pinned, and yet his expression was maddeningly calm—as if this wasn’t the first time, or as if he found the whole thing amusing.

Standing over him were two figures you recognized at once. Shin, the sharp-eyed clairvoyant who could peel thoughts like paper, his brow furrowed in mild irritation. And Lu, arms crossed with a triumphant smirk, clearly the one who had helped restrain him.

You sighed. Only Nagumo would stroll into an old classmate’s life and end up like this.

Crossing the room, you crouched to undo the knots. The rope was stubborn, thick with Lu’s handiwork, but your hands remembered too well the art of slipping someone free. As the bindings began to loosen, you felt a presence at your back—Sakamoto, watching quietly.

His eyes lingered not on you, but on Nagumo. Or rather, the way Nagumo was looking at you. That same inscrutable gaze from years ago at JCC, sharp yet unguarded, like he was seeing something no one else could. The kind of look Sakamoto himself reserved for his wife. For someone who had pulled him away from the bloodstained path. Nagumo looked at you, the way Sakamoto stared at his wife, Aoi.

It unsettled him. Because assassins weren’t meant to carry those feelings, especially if they were still in the business as one of the strongest.

Nagumo tilted his head, lips curling into his usual lazy smile. “Well, isn’t this nostalgic?” he said, his voice teasing, though his tone lacked the usual bite. For a moment, he almost seemed… softer.

But Shin flinched ever so slightly, his eyes narrowing. You realized then he must have heard some thought from Nagumo’s head—the thought that Nagumo hadn’t spoken aloud, which was strange since usually, Shin couldn’t hear Nagumo’s thoughts.

‘She’s still as cute as ever.’

The words hung unspoken between you all, tension threading through the air. Shin darted a quick glance at you, then at Sakamoto, as if deciding whether to reveal it. Instead, he bit down on the truth, letting Nagumo keep his mask.

You worked the last knot loose, the ropes slithering to the floor. Nagumo rolled his wrists casually, as though being tied up had been a temporary inconvenience rather than humiliation.

Your chest tightened, just faintly, as the memory of another face slipped unbidden into your thoughts. Rion. The fourth piece of your JCC circle, forever missing now. Her laughter had once filled those sterile academy halls, bright as firelight. And her death had left a silence none of you could ever truly break. You wondered, not for the first time, if Nagumo thought of her in these moments too.

“We haven’t seen each other for a long time,” Nagumo said suddenly, breaking the silence. His smile flickered, briefly losing its edge. For a moment, the assassin, the trickster, the untouchable Nagumo was just a boy from your past, standing where four had once been and only three remained.

Sakamoto exhaled, his gaze heavy, as if he too could see the ghosts between you all.

Nagumo leaned back in his chair with mock ease, the smirk sliding back into place. But his eyes didn’t leave yours. “So,” he drawled, his tone carefully light, “did you miss me? You sure dressed up… fancily.”