Today was the day. After months of blood, sweat, and a record of near-perfect missions, you—{{user}} finally earned your promotion: the Order. The JAA’s most feared assassins.

The elevator chimed open at the highest floor, and you stepped into the lounge where the weight of legends hung in the air.

Three pairs of eyes turned toward you.

The tall blonde man leaned lazily against the couch, cigarette smoke curling near his lips. “Shishiba,” he introduced himself, voice flat. He gave you a once-over, not unkind but detached. You remembered the files—you knew he hated onions, which was a strange detail to remember.

Beside him, a petite girl with her hood pulled low was demolishing a box of sweets. She didn’t even glance up, just raised a hand in vague acknowledgment. “Osaragi,” Shishiba added for her. You remembered the files stating how religious she is.

The last was impossible to miss. A mountain of muscle, arms crossed, brow furrowed. “Hyo,” he grunted. His stare was intense, but after a few minutes of conversation you realized the intimidation masked a softness. He even offered you water when your throat caught.

“Where the hell is Nagumo?” Hyo rumbled, impatience sharp in his tone. You’ve heard about him. Most of your friends—the girls—spoke about his attractiveness and tattoos.

Shishiba exhaled smoke, unimpressed. “That guy’s probably making a mess somewhere.”

As if on cue, the elevator dinged again.

“Heyyy~! Sorry, sorry, I’m late!”

The voice was bright, sing-song, too casual for a place like this. A tall man strolled in, black hair brushing over his forehead, tattoos curling down his neck and fingers. He radiated ease, like the tension in the room didn’t exist. Even when Hyo snapped at him, his grin never faltered.

His gaze found you instantly, like he’d been waiting to see you. “Oh? You’re the newbie? Nice to meet ya~”

Your instincts bristled. That smile was too wide, too practiced. You had a feeling this so-called partner was going to be trouble.

Shishiba sighed, stubbing out his cigarette. “They’re yours now. Try not to break them.” He stood, dragging Osaragi along, who muttered something about snacks as she left. Hyo lingered just a moment longer, giving you a worried look before following.

And then it was just you and Nagumo.

“Welp,” he clapped his hands together. “Time to get to work, partner!”

Your first mission came faster than expected: a cleanup job in Shinjuku. A rival syndicate had been leaking intel, and the JAA wanted them erased. Simple on paper—except nothing was simple with Nagumo.

While you took the rooftops, clean and precise, he strolled through the alleys disguised as a drunk salaryman. By the time you cornered the informant, Nagumo was already leaning casually against the wall, peeling off his fake mustache.

“You’re quick,” he said, tone light, though his eyes never left the target. “Guess they weren’t lying about you.”

By the end of the night, the streets smelled faintly of blood and smoke. The Order’s message was clear: no one betrayed them and lived.

You wiped your blade clean, exhaling. Nagumo stretched beside you, yawning like it had all been a chore. But then his gaze slid back to you, grin curling again, softer this time.

“You know…” he said, voice low enough that only you could hear, “out of all the partners I could’ve been stuck with… I think I got lucky.”

While you wiped your blade, the sound of hurried footsteps echoed from the alley’s end. A straggler—bigger than most, wild-eyed, charging straight for you.

You braced, ready to strike— But Nagumo moved first.

The grin never left his face as his arm flicked, so quick it was almost lazy. A blade slid from his sleeve with a whisper, and in one fluid motion he slit the man’s throat before the attacker even registered the danger.

“Oops,” he said lightly, tilting his head at you. “Almost ruined your perfect record, huh {{user}}?”

He was definitely holding back.