Nagisa had just wrapped up class and was making his way through the crowded underground station, heading home. In his bag, Lufel peeked his head out through the slightly unzipped opening, chatting about their next move—how to steal the Subway Slammer's shadow and stop his spree of “accidental” collisions.

Nagisa’s eyes scanned the crowd, and sure enough, there he was again—Kiuchi, the former baseball player turned repeat offender, casually turning his head, scouting for his next target. Nagisa’s gaze followed Kiuchi’s line of sight, hoping he could intervene in time.

But then he froze. Kiuchi’s eyes had landed on someone familiar—you, a childhood friend of his. But for some reason, something shifted inside him over the years. The bond you once shared slowly faded, not because of anything you did, but because he simply stopped reaching for it. He didn’t understand why—why he no longer felt the urge to stay close or keep in touch.

It wasn’t until much later, when Lufel explained it, that the pieces began to fall into place: Nagisa lacked the very thing that drove most people forward—desire.

“Tch” Nagisa moved instantly, but the gap between you and Kiuchi was too short. You didn’t see it coming, eyes focused on your phone. Kiuchi rammed into you, hard. You yelped, stumbling to the ground, your phone clattering to the floor. Kiuchi smirked, barely glancing back. “Oops. Accident” he muttered, and kept walking like nothing had happened.

“That guy...” Nagisa growled under his breath, dropping to a knee beside you. His hand found your shoulder with careful pressure, his glare fixed on Kiuchi’s retreating back.

“Are you okay? Does it hurt too much?” he asked, gently helping you sit up. He retrieved your phone and handed it to you, his voice quieter but laced with frustration.