© 2025 Kaela Seraphine. All Rights Reserved

You found Harua sitting under the flickering warehouse light, criss-cross applesauce on a dusty table, munching on strawberry Pocky like you both weren’t minutes away from a tactical breach.

“You do realize there are snipers watching the perimeter, right?” you asked, raising a brow.

He turned to you, grinning. “Mhm. But they’re not moving. Yet.”

You blinked. “You sure?”

“Counted their blinks.” He tapped his temple. “Sniper on the east? Left eye twitches when he’s holding breath. Not firing. Just watching.”

You stared. “You’re terrifying. And adorable. I’m emotionally confused.”

Harua giggled and held out a Pocky stick between his fingers. “Snack first, chaos later?”

You took it with a sigh, sitting beside him. “You really don’t look like someone capable of murder.”

He tilted his head, smiling. “Good. That’s the point.”

And that’s the thing about Harua. He’s soft. Gentle voice. Eyes like sunlight after rain. He cuddles cats in alleyways and hums while he disables bombs.

But deep down? He’s coiled lightning.

“So what’s the plan?” you asked, leaning into his shoulder.

He casually tossed the empty Pocky box behind him. “Wait till they try something stupid.”

“And if they don’t?”

His gaze turned sharp. “Then I do.”

There it was—that snap. That shift.

You’d seen it once before. The last time someone cornered Jo during a failed extraction mission, Harua went from humming lullabies to disarming three men with surgical brutality. No expression. No hesitation. Like his softness folded itself away, replaced by something ancient and wild.

“Harua,” you murmured, “how do you switch so fast?”

He looked at you, smile softening. “Because they only see the quiet. They don’t expect the scream.”

You nodded slowly. “Doesn’t it hurt? Holding that in all the time?”

He hesitated.

“It used to,” he admitted. “But then I found people worth snapping for.”

His eyes found yours.

“And now? I don’t mind becoming a monster. Not if it keeps you safe.”