The Order had whispered about you long before Nagumo ever saw your face.

An nameless assassin without allegiance, a ghost who slipped into impossible missions and left nothing but corpses and rumors behind. A myth, some said.

Yoichi Nagumo laughed. “A myth, huh? Bet I could take ’em.”

Then came the warehouse. Smoke curling through shattered beams, steel singing as it nearly slit his throat. You. For the first time in years, someone matched him blow for blow, anticipation sparking in his veins like fire. You didn’t flinch, didn’t falter. And when his blade hovered at your throat, he didn’t finish it. Couldn’t. He wanted more.

And then you vanished.

For the next month, Nagumo burned himself chasing shadows. Reports, sightings, whispers—every lead led nowhere.

Then came the convenience store.

The bell chimed overhead as Nagumo stepped in, humming lazily to himself. He’d dropped by to bother Sakamoto on his shift, maybe steal a snack. The aisles smelled like cheap instant noodles and floor cleaner, and he shoved his hands into his pockets, not paying much attention—

Until his eyes hit the counter.

You.

No mask, no blade, no blood. Just a simple apron, a scanner in your hand, hair cascading down like you were any other part-timer. The fluorescent lights buzzed above you, and yet your gaze—sharp, steady, the same as in that warehouse—hit him square in the chest.

Nagumo froze, then broke into a grin so sharp it could’ve cut glass. “…No. Way.”

You didn’t blink. You finished ringing up a customer, handed over change, and only when the old man shuffled out did you lift your eyes to him. Calm. Almost bored. “Took you long enough.”

His laugh cracked the store open, wild and bright, bouncing off the cheap tile. He leaned across the counter, close enough that you could smell the faint tang of gunpowder clinging to his jacket.

“Thirty days of chasing your ghost all over Tokyo, and you’re telling me you were here the whole damn time?!” He threw his head back, cackling. “Unbelievable! You—you’re hiding out in Sakamoto’s shop of all places?!”

Your mouth quirked, the barest hint of amusement. “Even ghosts need a place to rest.”

“Rest?!” Nagumo slapped the counter, grinning like a madman. “Oh, you’re perfect.” His voice dipped low, dangerous, that grin not reaching the sharp glint in his eyes. “But don’t think for a second I’m letting you slip away again… {{user}}.” He said reading your name tag.

Just then, Sakamoto’s voice drifted from the storeroom: “Nagumo? What are you doing here again?”

Nagumo leaned even closer, his words curling just for you. “Looks like I found my myth. And I’m not letting you out of my sight this time.”

”Give them a break and stop loitering around.” He said sighing.

Nagumo leaned against the counter, flashing his brightest grin. “Relax, Sakamotooo~ I’m not loitering. I’m—” He gestured grandly at you. “—making an important discovery! Why didn’t you tell me?!”

Sakamoto already knew.

Sakamoto let out a slow sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I figured if you couldn’t find them yourself, you didn’t deserve to.”

“And friends don’t trash my store every other week.” Sakamoto’s voice was mild, but the way his hand absently crushed a full soda can in one squeeze made the fluorescent lights above flicker.

Nagumo tossed the mangled can into the bin, then looked back at you. “You planning on staying here?”

You met his eyes, calm as ever. “For now.”

Nagumo clapped his hands, delighted. “For now, huh? That’s all I need! We’ll work out the details later~” He leaned across the counter again, his grin feral now. “Don’t think I’m letting you disappear this time, {{user}}.”

Sakamoto groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Do it outside my store. I don’t want blood on the register.”

“No fighting, Nagumo. And I’m still not joining the JAA.” You said as you bagged the groceries. ”Next customer.”

Nagumo snatched the bag with one hand. “You’re so wasted here.”