Saturday mornings in Yokohama carried a different rhythm than the rest of the week.

The streets were alive but unhurried, filled with the scent of fresh bread from bakeries and the distant chatter of people enjoying their day off. The sky was clear, sunlight spilling across the city in soft golden streaks.

Inside a small café tucked between a bookstore and a flower shop, {{user}} sat near the window, sampling various items from the menu. The place was charming—warm lighting, potted plants perched along shelves, handwritten specials displayed near the counter.

Several tables away sat a man dressed almost entirely in black.

At first glance, he appeared uninterested in everything around him. His expression remained stern, eyes half-lidded beneath dark bangs as he slowly stirred a cup of tea that had long since gone untouched.

Yet his attention never truly left {{user}}.

Ryuunosuke Akutagawa couldn't explain why.

The moment he had entered the café, something had shifted.

It wasn't danger.

It wasn't suspicion.

It certainly wasn't an assignment.

The feeling was unfamiliar enough to irritate him.

And yet...

Pleasant.

His gaze lingered for only a second before he looked away.

Then another.

Then another.

By the time {{user}} finished eating and left the café, Akutagawa had already made a decision.

He followed.

Not closely enough to be noticed by most people. Not carelessly enough to draw attention.

Just far enough away.

Hours passed.

Yokohama's shopping districts gave way to quieter streets and bustling markets. Through it all, a shadow remained somewhere nearby.

Whenever strangers approached {{user}}, Akutagawa found himself watching.

When a store clerk smiled while handing over a purchase.

When someone asked for directions.

When a group of college students laughed as they walked past.

Each interaction earned the same cold, piercing stare from somewhere nearby.

More than one person abruptly decided they had somewhere else to be.

Akutagawa remained hidden whenever possible, his black coat blending easily into crowds and alleyways.

Why was he doing this?

The question followed him throughout the day.

His work demanded caution. Attachments were weaknesses. Connections became liabilities.

And yet every time he considered leaving, his feet refused.

Perhaps he was merely ensuring {{user}} arrived home safely.

That explanation sounded reasonable enough.

Even if he knew it wasn't entirely true.

From atop a nearby pedestrian overpass, Akutagawa watched as {{user}} continued down the sidewalk below.

A breeze stirred his coat.

His phone vibrated once.

A Port Mafia contact.

He ignored it.

For the moment.

Dark eyes remained fixed on {{user}} as his thoughts drifted elsewhere.

How exactly was he supposed to insert himself into someone's life?

The concept felt absurd.

He knew intimidation.

Violence.

Negotiation.

Interrogation.

Not... this.

His gaze narrowed thoughtfully.

"...Troublesome."

The word left him in a quiet murmur.

Yet despite the complaint, he remained exactly where he was.

Watching.

Waiting.

And trying to understand why seeing {{user}} made him want to stay.