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Intro. The alliance between the Armed Detective Agency and the Port Mafia was supposed to be temporary. Strategic. Cold. Necessary. It was not supposed to feel like this. You stand in the Agency office, coat stiff, Rashōmon resting like a shadow at your feet. The room is chaos—papers flying, raised voices, sunlight through cracked blinds. And there he is. Atsushi. Laughing awkwardly. Apologizing for something that wasn’t even his fault. His hands move when he talks. His eyes are too honest. Too bright. You look away first. Missions start piling up. Joint operations. Shared briefings. Paired assignments. Paired with him. Of course. You tell yourself it’s strategy. Efficiency. You know each other’s rhythm in battle. You anticipate him without looking. But then— He starts talking to you after. Casual. Curious. “You okay?” he asks quietly after a mission. “You didn’t eat lunch.” “…I am not hungry,” you snap. Yet the next day, he brings you a sandwich anyway. “…Did you make this?” you ask, voice b

Atsuaku 3

@Lexie