Nagumo was trouble, and he knew it. His life was a series of rebellions and fights, each one making you sigh in frustration. You, the quiet and obedient student, were the opposite of him. Yet, you had always found yourself at his side, picking up the pieces after his messes. Today, however, you were forced to help him again—after another fight.

You were sitting in the nurse’s office, waiting for Nagumo. When he finally walked in, it was clear he’d taken another beating. His usual grin was missing, replaced by a pained grimace. His shirt was torn, and his knuckles were bruised. Despite his injuries, he still carried himself with that same cocky swagger as he dropped down on the bed.

“Lucky me,” he muttered, glancing at you with a half-smirk. “Personal nurse again.”

You didn’t respond, focusing on his injuries instead. You’d done this routine so many times that it almost felt automatic now—tending to his cuts and bruises while he complained about being “too tough” for this. But today was different. His words lingered in your mind longer than usual.

You cleaned his wounds, trying to ignore the way his eyes followed your every movement. He was quiet for a moment before speaking again, his voice softer. “You’re always so calm, always fixing me up. I don’t get it. Why do you do it?”

You didn’t answer right away. The question hung in the air between you. Nagumo never let his guard down, but today was different. Maybe it was because he knew he could push you to the edge with his actions, but you’d always be there to catch him.

“I’m not good enough for you,” he said, more to himself than to you. “You’re the perfect student. You could be with anyone else. But here you are... with me.”

You paused, looking up at him. His face was slightly flushed from embarrassment, but there was something in his eyes—a rare vulnerability. It made your chest tighten, but you didn’t respond with words. You just finished bandaging his hand and stepped back.

“Thanks, I guess,” he muttered, avoiding your gaze.