"Oh no, you're not." his eye twitched, hands grasping the edge of the blanket and tucking it under your body.

That leads to a weak groan escaping your lips, a frown painting your face. "Stay strong yeah? Like always." he murmured, trying to offer you a genuine smile. But his lips felt too heavy.

"Such a pain in the ass." he clicked his tongue, heart dropping as the discomfort was still vivid across your face.

Enjin carefully removed the warm piece of cloth from your forehead, drenching it in the cold bucket of water — then squeezing the excess water out to return it back on your scorching forehead.

Luckily, you seemed to calm down again, expression slowly relaxing and the furrow in your brows gone. He heaved out a sigh and sat down on the floor, back resting against the bed.

"In reality you were tired, eh?" he chuckled, "acting all strong and independent despite experiencing the worst."

It wasn't like you are awake though, too deep in your slumber and the rest feeling a little too good for you to wake up. He doesn't expect you to of course, not if he is the one visiting you.

"Y'know... The others are quite worried about you and wanted to visit you. But I refused to let them because you need rest. They're chaotic bunch." he laughed quietly under his breath, "the basket contains fruits they picked and small notes."

The yellow haired man closed his eyes, relishing in the comfort and silence. "Especially Rudo. He almost crashed out since I declined entry. Little Zanka had to kick his butt."

Actually he wished you were there to see because he's sure you would've laughed your ass off at that amusing sight. "C'mon, [name]..." he trailed off and yawned tiredly, "dammit I should go back to my room and sleep a round."

He glanced back to your sleeping figure, covered by the soft and warm blanket as if you were some kind of newborn. "Pfft... You look pretty and funny." he grinned, "oh shoot I forgot leave out the »and« between those two words."

A sigh escaped his lips again. Yes he was worried — but he knows it won't take long until you recover again. Because you are strong, not only mentally but also physically.

That's why you're his type, after all.

"Get well soon. The others are waiting. I am waiting."

NIJIKU ZANKA.

　"ZANKA..."

The boy didn't even hesitate to snap his head into your direction, neck almost breaking at it as he quickly approached your bed. God he is sick worried because you've been asleep since the mission.

Mind you — the mission ended two days ago and you slept through those 48 hours, at best waking up for only a few seconds. "Ya need something?" he slowly dropped to his knees.

He desperately wants to talk to you on the same height and hear your voice yet it was almost inaudible. Your eyes wandered to your side without moving much, gaze landing on the worried guy.

"Water..." you requested, throat too dry to let out more than one word.

"Of course. Say less." he swiftly grabbed the cup of water beside your table and sits down on the edge of your bed. "C'mon, sit up."

His hands supported your weight, helping you sit up and leisurely guiding the glass to your lips.

"Drink slowly." he demanded, about to take away the glass, feeling like he was drowning you with that cup.

"Mmmh..." you swallowed it slowly like he wanted, water gliding down your skin.

"Just like that..." he placed it to the side and helped you lay down again. "Need anything else?"

"Stay..." your hand sneaked up to his clothes, weakly gripping onto him. "Please."

"I would've done that without ya sayin' that." he blinked, talking as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Thank... you."

A delicate smile adorned your lips as you were able to close your eyes again — the need for safety and comfort no longer bugging you since he was here. And you know he will take care of you.

"No need to thank me. Ya sound like an idiot already." he shook his head.

Yet you were no longer there, the pull into the deep sleep got the best of you and making you fast asleep. "Ya must love makin' me worried, huh?" he huffed out and watched how your grip around his sleeve loosened.

Zanka stays seated next to you, occasionally glancing to your direction and pretending it was casual — before noticing the slight knitter between your brows, your breath hitching.

It lets his heart drop immediately and his expressions hardens in concern for you. "Scarin' me is also fun now?" his finger twitched, "ya make me wanna leave. Or else I'll die through worry."

Saying all that is easy. Nevertheless he doesn't budge, body unmoving as he watched. He was watching and waiting, no matter how long it would take. He will wait until you feel well again.

And he certainly refuses to take any missions if he knows you're still sick. Even if Enjin demands it from him. He cannot put your trust second place — for you are hoping for his support right now.

"As soon as yer gettin' better, ya can annoy me as much as ya want." his whisper is barely audible, hard to catch.

"This is a one time opportunity, ya better take it."

SUREBREC RUDO.

　HE huffed loudly as Rudo dragged himself to your bed, sweat all over his face and slowly rolling down his skin. How could he not? Especially after hearing you got a huge fever during a mission.

"I'm finally here... Sorry for making you wait so long." he breathed out.

Taking the chair from the other side of the room, he placed it right next to your bed and sat down. "Rudo..?" you questioned, whisper so small — he barely caught onto that.

"Y-Yes? I'm right here." he responded almost immediately.

"Get away..." you ushered him to.

Your body was weak yet your might was enough to show him your concern at the sight of him. A frown settled deeply on his face as he heard those words before shaking his head.

"No... I'm not leaving your side." he refused, "I fought my way to be here. And now I'm staying. No one can drag me out of here."

Right — he did hurry into your room with a few hindrances because everyone blocked his way, trying to explain him that you need rest alone. But he can't. His heart cannot allow that.

Being alone sucks and he is aware of that. He knows painfully well how much you hated being alone at your most vulnerable. And your demands mean nothing to him.

It's a lie, he already figured.

"I'm—" you suddenly started to cough.

"A-Ah..!" he panicked slightly and rushed to get you a glass filled with water. "Here..! Drink."

Carefully, he raised your head a little and helped you drink the water, heart racing and bumping against his chest loudly. "I'm... sick." you mumbled under your breath, "you'll catch... a cold too."

"And?" he trailed off, setting the glass aside and gently dropping your head on the pillow again. "So what if I get sick?"

"But..."

"Get some rest. Stop talking." he sat down on his chair again, this time being more stern with you, "sorry if I sound mean..."

A sigh left your lips as you eyed him quietly, the frown still visible. But then — the fever caught up to you again, forcing you to lose all kind of energy and pushing you to sleep.

"Dumbass..." you murmured, breathing steady and calm, "hold my hand... Please."

"Of course." he replied, his gloved hand sneaking underneath the cover and grasping your hand gently. "Whatever you want..."

With that, your lips curled into a little smile.

"[name]... Don't scare me like that again." he plead and leaned over, elbows propping on the cushion — his forehead softly hitting your intertwined hands. "Please."

One word to describe him? Restless. His leg nervously bouncing up and down while he prayed in silence, begging so you would get well soon and recover quickly.

"Just focus on your recovery... I—" he choked.

"I can't handle seeing you like this."

NAGUMO YOICHI.

　"PFFT—"

It wasn't supposed to sound mean or anything with ill intent as he bursted into laughter at the sight of you lying in bed, almost dead. Well you already look dead with the messy hair and deep, dark bags under your eyes.

"You look really..!" he covered his mouth, placing a basket of fruits on the desk.

Actually you don't find yourself caring much, your body too weak and about to shut down. So you decided to close your eyes, shuffling around the bed and turning your back to him.

"Ouch!" he played hurt before sitting down on the chair, "sorry, sorry for laughing."

Nagumo heaved out a sigh and crossed his legs, elbow on his knee and hand supporting his head. "Didn't take you for this weak." he murmured under his breath, grin everlasting.

"Shut up..." it took everything to mutter out two damn words.

"Whatever you want." he beamed and spoiler alert, he did not shut up.

Carefully, he raised his hand and placed it against your burning forehead. And then you felt it — it was cold, so cold that you would already compare it to ice. A shudder run down your spine.

"Go away..." you wanted to swat his hand away yet again, you were too weak.

"Doesn't feel like it though." he whistled, watching how you leaned closer against his skin.

Using all your might to turn over again, your half-lidded eyes wandered around his face. "You shouldn't move too much." his grin faltered slightly, tattooed hand caressing your cheeks gently.

A ghostly shadow you might say — touch so cautious and gentle as if he was afraid to break you even more yet also powerful, knowing that you were able to relax through the coldness of his hand.

"It was so much trouble to take off a few days." he whispered, aware how you slowly drifted into sleep again. "When you recover again, let's go out."

"Mmh..." instead of agreeing with words, you decided to hum.

Eventually, the sleep lulled you to sleep once again — even though you just woke up a few minutes ago. "Good night, [name]." he wished you and grasped your hand.

No cringe nickname, no cheesy pet names. Just [name]. [name] and Yoichi. "I knew I should've taken that mission huh? It kinda sucks, seeing you in pain." he whined.

Despite whining, there was no genuine emotion lingering behind his voice. "If you don't get well soon, I might as well take my own life. It's so boring without you and Shishiba is nagging me the whole time."

Stop being a dumbass then, you would've answered like that or something along those lines. Nagumo's gaze never shifted from your face, placing brief kisses against the back of your hand.

"You literally make me act like you're dead..." he trailed off, a chuckle leaving his lips. "I already got a big list of ideas what we could do in my mind. So you gotta recover real fast, yes?"

Finally. He sealed his lips, quietly waiting for your eyes to open again.

He frowned slightly, as if annoyed at himself.

Then, uninvited, the thought slipped in.

A quiet house. You moving around the kitchen. A child laughing somewhere behind him.

Nagumo stiffened.

“…Tch.”

Shin’s voice cut through his thoughts. “You spacing out again?”

Nagumo glanced over. Shin was watching him with narrowed eyes. Sakamoto, behind the counter, said nothing — but his gaze lingered a little too knowingly.

“I’m fine,” Nagumo replied easily. “You’re imagining things.”

Shin tilted his head. “You look… peaceful.”

Nagumo scoffed. “That’s worse.”

But he didn’t deny it.

When Hana hugged your leg without warning and you laughed softly, Nagumo felt it again — that dangerous sense of wanting something more than the moment.

Something permanent.

Later, when the shop had quieted and Hana was distracted elsewhere, Nagumo found you outside, sitting on the steps with a drink in hand.

He sat beside you, close enough that your shoulders brushed.

“…You’re good with her,” he said casually.

You hummed. “She’s easy to like.”

“Yeah,” he agreed. “She is.”

There was a pause.

Nagumo stared ahead, expression unreadable. You didn’t rush him. You never did.

“…Seeing you like that,” he said slowly, “made me think.”

You turned to him. “About what?”

He exhaled, a quiet sound. “About stuff I usually avoid.”

That got your attention.

Nagumo wasn’t smiling now. His voice was calm, measured — the same tone he used before missions, when he meant what he said.

“I don’t really plan,” he continued. “I’ve always just… dealt with things as they come.”

You nodded.

“But today,” he said, glancing at you, “I imagined a future.”

Your breath caught.

“…And?” you asked gently.

He hesitated. Just for a second.

“It wasn’t bad,” he admitted. “Didn’t feel wrong.”

Then he looked at you properly.

“If someday,” he said, “you wanted something like that… a family…”

His voice softened.

“…I think I’d want it too. With you.”

You smiled — not surprised, not overwhelmed. Just warm.

“I do want that,” you said. “Someday.”

Nagumo let out a quiet laugh, relief slipping through despite himself. He leaned back slightly, eyes closing for a moment.

“…Good,” he murmured. “Glad it’s not just me.”

He reached for your hand, squeezing it once — solid, certain.

No jokes.

No deflection.

Nagumo was already there, lazily leaning against the shelf, twirling a pack of Pocky between his fingers like it was some kind of weapon. He had been in the middle of pestering Sakamoto, as usual, when he caught sight of you walking in.

And just like that—bam.

Nagumo’s world stopped.

The second he laid eyes on you, something inside him shifted. He had faced assassins, evaded death, and pulled off impossible tricks countless times, but nothing—nothing—had ever hit him as hard as this.

You were exhausted, barely paying attention, completely unaware of his existence. And yet, in that moment, he knew.

“This is it,” Nagumo whispered, staring at you with wide, lovestruck eyes.

Sakamoto didn’t even look up. “What?”

Nagumo grabbed his sleeve, eyes still locked on you like you had personally descended from the heavens. “Sakamoto. That’s my wife.”

Sakamoto finally looked at him, unimpressed. “No, it isn’t.”

Nagumo ignored him, straightening his posture and smoothing out his jacket like he was about to meet royalty. He practically floated toward you, his usual smug confidence now mixed with something far more intense.

You, meanwhile, still assumed he was just another late-night loiterer. When he stepped into your path, smiling far too brightly for this time of night, you barely spared him a glance.

“Move,” you mumbled, reaching past him for a can of coffee.

Nagumo inhaled sharply, clutching his chest as if struck by Cupid’s most devastating arrow.

“She spoke to me,” he whispered in awe.

Sakamoto sighed loudly from behind the counter.

You, still too tired to care, moved toward the register. Nagumo immediately followed, practically vibrating with excitement.

“Rough day?” he asked, his voice softer now, but still carrying that teasing lilt.

You barely acknowledged him, handing Sakamoto your drink. “Yeah.”

Nagumo beamed. “Don’t worry, my love. From now on, I’ll make sure every one of your days is perfect.”

Sakamoto shot him a deadpan look. “You just met her.”

Nagumo turned dramatically. “And yet, my heart has already chosen.” He looked back at you, completely unbothered by your utter lack of interest. “We should set a date.”

You blinked, finally looking at him properly. “…What?”

“Our wedding,” he clarified, smiling like this was the most normal conversation in the world. “I mean, we can take it slow if you want, but I’m thinking a spring ceremony. Cherry blossoms, romantic atmosphere—you’d look stunning.”

You stared at him, then at Sakamoto, then back at him.

“…Are you drunk?”

Nagumo gasped, placing a hand over his heart. “Sakamoto, she wounds me.” He turned back to you, grinning. “No, my dear. I’m just madly, deeply, and eternally in love with you.”

You exhaled sharply, grabbed your drink, and walked straight out the door.

Nagumo watched you go, completely undeterred. In fact, if possible, he looked even more smitten.

“She’s amazing,” he sighed dreamily. “I’m definitely marrying her.”

Sakamoto rubbed his temples. “You’re an idiot.”

Nagumo grinned. “Yeah. But a devoted one.”