He should’ve known.

The warehouse hadn’t even exploded yet and already there was glitter. Literal glitter — shimmering across the villain shipment crates like a warning and a signature in one.

Keigo picked up the card taped to the broken fuse.

“Careful. Your undercut’s so sharp it might trigger the explosives. 💋 —XOXO, me again.”

He rubbed a hand down his face. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

⸻

You weren’t a hero. You weren’t a real villain either. You were the type who smiled during a fight and threw knives like they were party favors. Every time he arrested you, you left. Every time he chased you, you let him.

And somehow, you helped more than half the licensed underground agents on payroll.

Blueprint leaks. Stolen plans. Warnings, alarms, bombs defused.

And always…

Always a note.

“You owe me dinner.” “Tell your intern to stop trying to profile me. They’re wrong.” “This isn’t flirting. I just like watching you panic.”

⸻

You disappeared for four months.

No tips. No raids. No glitter.

Keigo pretended not to notice. But every time he passed an old note you’d left, he found himself rereading it. Looking for signs. Wondering.

And then, tonight, there you were again — leaning against his balcony railing like no time had passed, like you hadn’t just crawled out of the underworld.

A split lip. Faint bruises. Still smug.

You raised a hand lazily. “Hey, Bird Boy.”

He didn’t answer.

You took something from your pocket and flicked it to him.

A note.

“Told you I’d come back. Try missing me less next time.”

⸻

He stared at the card for a long beat.

Then, finally, his voice — low, quiet, edged with something he couldn’t quite hide:

“…You good, or do I need to break a few faces?”