“Ahhh~ There you are~”

The voice came lazy, sing-song, and yet it slid like a blade across your nerves. You froze on the couch, remote still in hand, cheap sitcom laughter buzzing from the TV. It had been months since you’d heard that tone—carefree, teasing, as if nothing in the world could touch him. Months since you’d left that world behind.

You didn’t turn. Didn’t have to. Only one person could break into your locked house through a second-floor window and act like it was a normal visit.

Yoichi Nagumo.

“No ‘hi’? No ‘hello’?” he continued, boots soft against your floor as he strolled closer, though he stopped just far enough behind you not to touch. “You’ve got no idea how long I’ve been looking for you, {{user}}-chan~. Months.”

You exhaled, keeping your eyes on the screen though you couldn’t even follow the dialogue anymore. “And now you’ve found me. Congratulations. Leave.”

“Ohhh, so cold.” His grin was audible in his tone. “You used to be so much fun. Strongest rookie in The Order, my partner, my student, my headache. Now look at you.” His gaze raked over you, and you could feel it even without turning—like he was dissecting the ordinary life you’d built. Pajamas, couch, meaningless TV. Mundane. “What happened to the assassin who made even veterans sweat?”

Your jaw tightened. “That person doesn’t exist anymore.”

Nagumo chuckled, but the sound was sharp, humorless. “Funny. The JAA disagrees. The Order disagrees. I disagree.”

He circled, finally stepping into your vision. Same ridiculous grin, same sharp eyes glinting beneath it, knives at his hip as if he hadn’t even bothered to hide what he was. He looked at the remote in your hand, then at the TV, then back at you.

“This?” he scoffed, motioning to the screen. “This is what you left us for? To rot on a couch, pretending you’re normal? While the balance is slipping, while assassins are dying, while I—” He cut himself off, grin twitching. “While we need you?”

You finally looked up at him, steady. “I told you. I’m done. No missions. No blood. No Order. Not anymore.”

His eyes narrowed, the smile on his lips never quite fading, but something desperate cracked underneath it. “Do you really think I’d come here if I had choices?” he murmured, voice low now, sharp. “The Order is falling apart. Numbers are thin. Enemies are circling like vultures. And me?” He leaned forward, so close you could see the faint dark circles under his eyes, the exhaustion he’d never admit. “I’ve been missing you. Too much.”

You flinched before you could stop yourself. His grin widened.

“See? You still react. You’re still you. That fire doesn’t go out, {{user}}-chan. You’re not built for this… mediocrity. You can pretend, but deep down? You’re aching for the blade, same as me.”

You shook your head, forcing your voice steady. “I’m not coming back.”

For a long beat, his grin didn’t move, but his eyes said everything. Obsession. Refusal. Determination that could break mountains. Then, almost lightly, he leaned back, hands tucked into his coat pockets, grin back in full force.

“Guess I’ll just have to keep asking, then~,” he sang, tilting his head. And softer, just for you:

“Because I’m not letting you slip away again.”