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Nagumo Yoichi didn't get many breaks.
And even when he did, he always—always—made it about you.
Having a girlfriend while being an assassin is no easy task.
Anyone who knew his actual work life was shocked enough to hear he even had a partner.
One, the most important rule in the underground world was simple.
No attachments ever.
He broke it without any hesitation.
Two, he wasn't just any assassin. He was a highly-ranked one, a member of the order. Which meant he was targeted 100% of the time.
But he wasn't just the only one at risk. You were too.
Still, he swore—so earnestly it sounded like a vow carved into his heart—that he would protect you at all costs.
Three, due to his work, he barely had time for anything.
Not for hobbies. Not for rest.
Not even for himself on most days.
He always woke up early, slipping out before you were even slightly conscious, leaving you—who woke up to see the other side of the bed cold and empty.
He came back late at night—occasionally with blood on his shirt—but you'd always have a plate of food on the table for him.
A plate on the table. Warm, neatly prepared, as if he hadn't left you alone in the quiet dark for hours.
Sometimes you'd be passed out on the sofa waiting for him and he'd put his skills to use by carrying you back to bed without waking you up.
It shouldn't be possible.
And yet, he somehow still made time for you.
Today was another one of his rare day-offs.
You immediately dictated it and forced him to watch every each and one of the episodes of Chiikawa with you.
I mean...who could say no to Chiikawa?
They're small. They're cute. They're basically illegal amounts of adorable.
Well, other than Nagumo's stupid bug eyes.
Those weren't even an insult, either. He just stared like he couldn't help himself—eyes wide and accusatory.
You could stare into them all day. Maybe that's your plan for his next day-off.
You two have been at it the whole morning, not even changing out of your pajamas. It was comfy. It was warm. And being near your boyfriend felt safer than anywhere else in the world.
You'd found one perfect position and committed to it for the whole show.
Nagumo, on the other hand, kept switching positions like there were traps on the sofa.
Every time you blinked, he was somehow sitting differently.
It was like dating a restless 6-year-old child more than a grown man who killed for a living.
At first he was sitting normally.
Then he was manspreading, taking over 80% of the couch.
Then, sometime around episode thirty-something, he evolved into sitting on the sofa upside down, legs folded in ways that didn't make sense, body angled so far that you were pretty sure gravity had been ignored.
At one point you were convinced his heavy ass body was fully draped over you—like a living weighted blanket-except you weren't complaining.
You were too busy cooing over the little reactions Chiikawa had.
Unlike you—who was enamoured by the cute figures on screen, Nagumo always found something to complain about all of them.
"Why does Chiikawa keep crying?" He asked, squinting at the screen like it offended him.
Because he keeps getting bullied!
"Why does Hachiware keep yapping?" He continued, voice flat.
Do a self-reflection!
"Why is Usagi such a big back?" He muttered, as if he couldn't tolerate happiness without making it a problem.
Maybe because food is amazing and everyone loves it?
Your final straw was when he insulted one of your favourite episodes.
"What is this supposed to be and why is Hachiware singing out of nowhere?"
Because Hachiware has better vocals than you would ever have in your whole life!
You grabbed the nearest object—which was thankfully a pillow—and launched it towards him without thinking.
You knew he could've caught it easily, but decided to accept his fate.
"Hey! What was that for?!"
You were done with him and you weren't replying.
There were a few episodes where he didn't speak at all, just sat there with his arms folded.
Then, after you were fully immersed again, watching like nothing happened—
You muttered, to yourself more than him :
"You remind me of Hachiware."
It was supposed to be a casual remark, you weren't expecting a reaction—at least not a big one.
But apparently, he took it personally.
He let out a huge gasp and snatched the remote, pausing the screen.
You flinched at him abruptly standing up, almost knocking over the whole coffee table and proceeding to walk over to the TV, pointing at Hachiware.
"Me and this thing? This THING? We are NOTHING alike whatsoever!!"
Then he went on.
A long, heated rant about how Hachiware 'sucked', how he was clearly superior and how he absolutely refused to be compared to him.
You nodded along, not even processing his words as he spoke.
You didn't care about what he said, he still looked exactly like Hachiware in your eyes.
About thirty minutes after your remark, you decided he had enough and sat him down--like a parent putting their stubborn child back to his chair.
You even quickly picked out a whole new show to binge watch, so he doesn't get upset over it again.
Nagumo stared at the screen without blinking.
But he stayed silent.
And that was a win.
⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹
The next morning, you figured he'd forgotten all about it.
It was the kind of thing he should've shrugged off, especially if he was the type to let insults bounce off him like bullets that missed.
So you woke up expecting the usual routine.
Except—
There was a massive Hachiware plushie right next to you.
Too big to miss. Too soft to ignore.
You stared at it for a moment, then giggled like you couldn't help it.
You reached out, pulled it toward you, and fell back asleep immediately—arms wrapping around the plushie like it belonged there.
You were already planning his next day-off.