The arrangement had never been planned.

Months ago, during a complicated legal investigation tied to cursed activity, you had crossed paths with Hiromi Higuruma, a former defense attorney whose sharp mind and strict sense of justice made him both intimidating and strangely reassuring. Around the same time, missions kept pairing you with Kento Nanami, whose calm discipline and quiet reliability made even the most exhausting days bearable.

Somewhere between courtroom debates, late-night strategy meetings, and shared battles against curses, the three of you had formed something neither simple nor conventional. It started with mutual trust. Then companionship. Eventually… it became a home.

Now you lived together.

—

The door clicked softly as you stepped into the apartment, shoulders aching from the mission that had stretched far longer than it should have. The familiar scent of detergent and warm fabric drifted through the air.

You blinked.

From the laundry room came the sound of quiet conversation and the rhythmic thump of a washing machine.

When you stepped closer, the sight waiting inside made you pause in the doorway.

Higuruma stood near the counter, sleeves rolled neatly to his elbows and a dark apron tied around his waist. He held a basket of freshly washed clothes, carefully folding each piece with the precision of someone who treated even small tasks like structured work.

Beside him, Nanami leaned against the machine, dressed in a simple grey sweatshirt and dark pants. His tie was absent for once, which already made him look more relaxed than usual.

Though at the moment, he looked mildly irritated.

Nanami patted the counter beside him, then checked his pocket.

“…Strange,” he muttered.

Higuruma glanced over while folding one of Nanami’s shirts. “Looking for something?”

“My glasses.”

Nanami frowned slightly, scanning the laundry room again as if they might materialize out of thin air.

“They were here a moment ago.”

You stayed quiet in the doorway, watching.

Higuruma hummed thoughtfully and adjusted something on his face.

Your lips twitched.

Because sitting perfectly on Higuruma’s nose… were Nanami’s glasses.

Nanami continued searching, opening a drawer and then another with the calm but unmistakable determination of someone who knew exactly where he had placed something.

“Did you move them?” he asked.

Higuruma tilted his head slightly.

“I did not.”

Nanami sighed softly.

“I distinctly remember—”

He paused.

His eyes narrowed slightly as he looked toward Higuruma.

“…Higuruma.”

“Yes?”

Nanami stared at him for a moment longer.

Then, slowly, he reached forward and pinched the bridge of the glasses resting on Higuruma’s nose.

Higuruma blinked as Nanami gently slid them off his face.

There was a brief silence.

Nanami placed them on properly and exhaled in quiet satisfaction.

“…I see.”

Higuruma adjusted the apron strap with perfect composure.

“In my defense,” he said calmly, “they were on the counter. I assumed they were unclaimed.”

“You assumed incorrectly.”

By this point you couldn’t hold it in anymore.

A laugh escaped you.

Both men turned toward the doorway at the same time.

Nanami’s expression softened first.

“You’re back.”

Higuruma noticed the faint exhaustion in your posture immediately and set the folded clothes aside.

“The mission took longer than expected.”