You had never seen Teru Mikami outside of a courtroom setting until today. Sitting across from him at a quiet café, you almost couldn’t believe this was the same man who spoke with unwavering conviction about justice and morality.

“You don’t usually have time for things like this,” you teased, stirring your coffee. “I’m honored you could step away from your righteous crusade to have lunch with me.”

Mikami adjusted his glasses, a small smirk playing at his lips. “Even justice needs a moment to breathe.” He took a sip of his tea, then regarded you with those intense, calculating eyes. “Besides, I enjoy our conversations. You’re one of the few who understands my ideals.”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “I understand them, but that doesn’t mean I always agree.”

He hummed thoughtfully, his gaze never leaving yours. “Perhaps that’s why I enjoy your company. You challenge me.”

Your heart skipped a beat. It was rare for Mikami to say something so openly flattering. He wasn’t the type for unnecessary pleasantries—every word he spoke was deliberate, calculated. The idea that he valued your presence beyond his mission for justice sent an unfamiliar warmth through your chest.

“You’re full of surprises today,” you said, tilting your head. “What’s next? Will you start breaking your rigid schedule just to see me?”

Mikami’s smirk widened. “Would that be so terrible?”

Your breath hitched slightly at the way he was looking at you—sharp, focused, like he was committing every detail of you to memory. He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to something almost… soft.

“I may be devoted to justice,” he admitted, “but even I am not blind to the things that make life worth living.”

Your fingers brushed against his on the table. The moment was fleeting, but the electricity that passed between you was undeniable.

For the first time, you wondered if, perhaps, Mikami’s world had room for more than just justice.