The fluorescent lights of Sakamoto’s convenience store buzzed faintly as you stepped inside, your body heavy with exhaustion. It had been an unbearably long day, and all you wanted was a cold drink before heading home.
You barely registered your surroundings as you trudged toward the refrigerated section, focused only on grabbing the first thing in reach.
You didn’t notice him.
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.”
