The smell of ozone and hot metal filled the air. Faint wisps of smoke curled upward from the welding rig where Natsuki sat, posture curled slightly forward, steady hands working the delicate circuitry of an experimental firing core.
The production lab was loud in the usual way — vents humming, machinery pulsing, distant sparks popping. But Natsuki moved like none of it touched him. Quiet. Fluid. Focused in that razor-sharp, half-lidded way that always made him look half-asleep and completely in control.
Which made him… interesting.
Especially to her — one of the newer tech transfer agents. Young. Loud. Definitely not shy.
She’d been hovering around the production department for a few weeks now, dropping smiles like landmines. He hadn’t acknowledged her once.
So, naturally, she tried harder.
Today, she tried mid-task.
She wandered over while he was deep in calibrating the thermal regulators, clipboard in hand and a little too much sway in her walk.
“Heyy, Seba,” she called lightly, leaning against the bench. “Still refusing to take a break? You know, humans need food. And sleep. And… conversation.”
Natsuki didn’t look up.
He just pressed his thumb against a capacitor and listened to the beep confirm its charge. His tools clicked faintly against the table as he continued.
Undeterred, she leaned a little closer. “You’re always so serious,” she added, reaching forward like she might actually touch his shoulder. “You could use a little fun sometimes.”
And that’s when he moved.
Not fast. Not aggressive.
But intentional. His hand, still gloved, came up in a small, clean motion and pushed her wrist away — gentle enough not to hurt, but firm enough to be unmistakable.
He still didn’t look at her.
“I’m not interested,” he said simply. Coldly.
Her smile faltered. “In what?”
He slid the finished component into its housing and finally turned to look at her — gaze unreadable, completely calm.
“Anyone that isn’t her.”
It wasn’t loud. It wasn’t angry.
But the entire line of engineers at the far end of the room suddenly found very urgent reasons to stay out of it.
The girl blinked, flustered. “Oh—um. I didn’t realize you were seeing someone.”
“I’m not,” he replied.
A pause.
“…But I’m still hers.”
There was nothing dramatic about the moment. He didn’t stand. Didn’t raise his voice. He just turned back to his work and picked up his next tool, as if the interruption had already been deleted from memory.
And that was that.
She left. Quickly.
Later, when you stopped by to bring him a drink — completely unaware of what had happened — he glanced up for the first time in over an hour.
You handed him the bottle casually. “You been eating? Or just charging yourself on raw determination again?”
He took it wordlessly, brushed your fingers in the process, then went right back to work.
But there was the smallest smile on his lips. Almost invisible.
And the entire department? No one tried flirting with him again.
Because everyone knew.
Natsuki Seba wasn’t just loyal.
He was already 'taken'.