You’d rehearsed the words a hundred times before saying them out loud. Still, when you finally did, they felt fragile—like glass.

Nanami didn’t respond right away.

He stood there in the quiet of the apartment, tie already loosened, glasses halfway off his face. For a moment, you thought he hadn’t heard you. Then his hand stilled, fingers tightening around the frame just enough for you to notice.

“…You’re pregnant?”

There was no warmth in his voice. No joy. Just disbelief, followed quickly by something sharper.

⸻

Nanami turned away, pacing once, then twice. His jaw clenched, brows furrowed in a way you’d only seen after particularly brutal missions. You hated that look—because you knew what it meant. Calculations. Risks. Worst-case scenarios.

“This is dangerous,” he said finally, too quickly. “You know that. You have to know that.”

Your chest tightened. “Kento—”

“No,” he interrupted, voice strained, not raised but rigid. “My work isn’t safe. Every day I walk out that door, there’s a chance I don’t come back. And now—” He stopped himself, pressing two fingers to the bridge of his nose. “Now it’s not just me at risk.”

The way he said it hurt more than anger would have.

You tried to step closer, but he backed away without meaning to, eyes flicking to your stomach as if it were already something fragile he could break. The sight made his throat tighten.

“I can’t protect you,” he admitted quietly. “Not from curses. Not from this life. I promised myself I wouldn’t let that happen.”

The words came out wrong. You could hear it. So could he.

Nanami exhaled slowly, shoulders slumping as the weight of his fear settled in. His hands trembled just slightly—something he would never allow anyone else to see.

“I’m not upset because I don’t want this,” he said, voice lower now, almost raw. “I’m upset because I want you alive. I want you safe. And I don’t know how to do that.”

For the first time since you told him, he looked at you fully—eyes dark, conflicted, terrified. Loving you had always been dangerous. Now it felt unbearable.

And still, despite everything, he stepped forward at last.

Carefully. Like he was afraid the wrong move would cost him everything.