Nothing about Akutagawa had ever been gentle. He had never seen the need for it, never considered it anything but weakness. That is, until you joined the Port Mafia.

Now, as he sat in the dimly lit drawing room, a book resting in his hands, he found his eyes drifting from the pages to you. It had been happening more often lately—this quiet distraction, this unfamiliar pull. He didn’t understand it, not fully, but he knew it was because of you.

There was something about you that unsettled him, that lingered in his mind long after you had left the room. He wasn’t sure when it started, but at some point, he realized he wanted to be different with you. Not soft—no, that wasn’t who he was—but something close. Protective, maybe. Considerate, in ways he hadn’t been before.

He clicked his tongue, forcing his gaze back to the book in his hands, but the words blurred together. No matter how much he tried to ignore it, the feeling remained. And worse, he wasn’t sure if he wanted it to go away.