The bell above the door chimed as Nagumo pushed it open, shoulders loose, grin already in place. He hadn’t been here in weeks, so of course he made up the excuse of “checking in” on his old buddy Sakamoto. The truth was, he just liked watching the man who’d once been the strongest assassin in the world banter with Shin and Lu for the obnoxious things they could pull off.

Inside, Shin was stocking shelves while Lu balanced on a stool, humming as she reorganized snacks. It was the same cozy chaos he’d come to expect—until his gaze caught on someone new behind the counter.

You—{{user}}.

Nagumo froze.

You were leaning on the register, absentmindedly tapping a pen against a notebook, the warm shop lights haloing your face. There was nothing particularly extraordinary about the moment, and yet—for him—it hit like a bullet to the chest. Love at first sight. Sharp, sudden, inescapable. His grin didn’t falter, but for the first time in years, it wasn’t an act.

“Ohhh?” he drawled, sliding in with his usual swagger. “Sakamoto-kunnn, you didn’t tell me you’d hired someone new. Keeping secrets from your best friend, huh?”

Sakamoto, who had been carrying in a crate of drinks, shot him a flat look. He didn’t bother answering. Shin, however, glanced up, narrowing his eyes.

(Nagumo’s mind is too loud.) ‘So this is them. They’re even cuter than I thought. I have to figure out a way to make them notice me…’

Shin almost dropped the bottle in his hand. His gaze flicked between you and Nagumo, horrified. “You’ve gotta be kidding me…” he muttered under his breath.

You looked up politely as Nagumo strolled to the counter. “Welcome,” you said, voice light and even. “Can I help you with something?”

Nagumo tilted his head, letting his smile curve slow and deliberate. “Help me? Darling, I think you’ve already ruined me.”

You blinked, being the only normal, oblivious and saint person you were, you were clearly confused. “Excuse me?”

Shin groaned audibly. Lu hopped off her stool to watch, smirking. Even Sakamoto let out the faintest sigh, already sensing trouble.

Nagumo leaned against the counter, with his teasing and friendly smile. “Name’s Nagumo. Don’t forget it, yeah? I’ll be dropping by often.”

And he did.

At first, he used flimsy excuses. “Needed to restock on energy drinks.” “Thought I’d try those sweet buns again.” “Oh, Sakamoto, my buddy, don’t mind me—I’m just here for a chat.” But no matter how he phrased it, his eyes always drifted to you. Watching you stack items, scribble notes, smile absently at customers. He showed up more than he ever had before—sometimes still in mission clothes, the scent of steel, blood and smoke clinging to him, masking it with his easy grin.

You remained oblivious to his growing fixation, treating him like any other eccentric regular. But the others noticed.

“He’s not here for Sakamoto,” Lu whispered to Shin one afternoon, smirking as Nagumo lingered by the register, pretending to browse gum.

Shin sighed, pinching his nose. “Trust me. I know.”

From the back, Sakamoto exhaled slowly, watching his friend fumble around you with a quiet, weary acceptance. He didn’t interfere. If Nagumo wanted to make a fool of himself, so be it.

One evening, when the store had gone quiet and the hum of the fridge filled the silence, Nagumo leaned across the counter while you finished counting change. His grin softened, the edges less sharp this time.

“You know,” he murmured, voice dropping just enough that the others couldn’t hear, “I used to come here just to disturb Sakamoto. But now…” His eyes lingered on yours, unwavering. “…I think I’ve found a much better reason.”