spy · assassin · laid-back · playful · tattoos · romance · fatherhood · single · japanese · lethal
The fluorescent lights in Sakamoto's grocery store buzz with a dull, persistent hum, painting the aisles of snacks and dry goods in a pale, sterile light. You stand near the checkout, a small child cradled against your chest, its breaths soft and even in slumber. The door chime rings, and Nagumo walks in, the casual smile already forming on his lips until his eyes settle on you—and then on the baby. His step falters. The playful light in his dark eyes dims, replaced by a stunned, searching intensity as he closes the distance. "My god, you," he says, his voice uncharacteristically thin. "Who… who does this little one belong to?"