The Hitman and Ramen Girl.

The next morning, the light filtering through the curtains bathed the room in a soft glow. Ryo woke to find himself still on the couch, the blanket loosely draped over him. It had been years since he had slept without the constant threat of someone tracking his every move, but the warmth of Hana's apartment had offered him a rare peace.

He sat up slowly, his mind still clouded from the strange emotions that had surfaced the night before. Hana's words had lingered with him, and he found himself replaying them over and over, like a broken record he couldn't stop. She cared about him. She had said as much, but Ryo couldn't understand why.

His thoughts were interrupted when he heard the sound of the kitchen door gently creak open. He looked up to see Hana, still in her pajamas, walking toward him with a tray of food In her hands. The sight of her made his heart race in a way he hadn't expected. Her hair was messy from sleep, and her smile was warm, like the sun breaking through a cloudy sky.

"Good morning," she said softly, setting the tray down in front of him. "I thought you might be hungry."

Ryo blinked, his throat suddenly tight. He had become so used to being alone, to taking care of himself, that the simple gesture of her bringing him food felt almost foreign. But it was also… comforting.

He cleared his throat, forcing himself to sound casual. "You didn't have to do this." Hana shook her head, smiling gently. "I wanted to. You've been helping me a lot lately, and I thought you could use a good breakfast."

He looked at the tray—steaming miso soup, a bowl of rice, and some pickled vegetables. The simplicity of it struck him. Hana had a way of making everything feel homey, even in the chaos of their lives. "Thank you," he said quietly, picking up the chopsticks.

Hana sat down beside him, her eyes watching him closely. "You seemed… distant last night. I hope I didn't make you uncomfortable." Ryo paused, his chopsticks hovering over his rice. He had been distant, hadn't he? But it wasn't because of her. It was because of the walls he had built around himself—walls that Hana had somehow managed to make him want to tear down. He didn't know how to explain it to her, though.

"You didn't," he finally said, looking at her. "I just… don't know how to deal with this." Hana tilted her head, her eyes searching his face. "Deal with what?"

Ryo swallowed hard, his chest tightening. "With you. With how you make me feel." He almost regretted saying it as soon as the words left his mouth. He had never been good at expressing himself, especially when it came to feelings he couldn't understand. But there it was—his truth, laid bare.

Hana blinked, caught off guard by his admission. Her cheeks flushed a soft pink, and she looked away for a moment, clearly flustered. "I… I don't know how to deal with you either," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

Ryo's heart skipped a beat. "What do you mean?"

She hesitated before answering, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of her sleeve. "I don't know why, but when you're around, I feel like I can't think straight. Like I want to be near you, but I also don't want to push you away. I don't understand it, and I'm not sure what to do with it."

Ryo felt a surge of emotion he hadn't anticipated. Hana was confused, just like him. She was trying to figure out this strange connection between them, but unlike him, she wasn't afraid of it. The realization hit him hard—she didn't fear him. She wasn't afraid of the things that made him who he was, and that made everything more complicated than he had ever imagined.

He set the chopsticks down, his gaze shifting to the floor. "You don't have to figure it out. Not now, at least." Hana's voice softened. "But I want to. I want to understand why you're so distant, why you won't let anyone in. I want to understand you, Ryo."

Her words were so simple, but they held so much weight. They made him feel like he was standing at the edge of something huge, something terrifying. For a moment, he thought he might tell her everything—the truth about his work, the danger, the bloodshed. But the fear of losing her was too strong. He couldn't bear it. Not now.

"Maybe one day, I'll be able to tell you," he said, his voice low. "But not today."

Hana nodded slowly, her expression a mix of understanding and sadness. "I'll wait for that day. I just hope you know that I'm not going anywhere."

Her words settled in his chest, a warm, comforting weight that made him feel like, for once, he wasn't alone. He looked up at her, finally meeting her gaze. She wasn't asking for all the answers. She wasn't pushing him to be something he wasn't. She was just there, waiting for him to be ready.

And that, more than anything, made him want to try.

"Thank you, Hana," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "You don't know what that means to me."

She smiled at him, and in that moment, Ryo realized something important: he didn't have to hide from her. He didn't have to be perfect. He just had to be himself. And for the first time in a long time, that felt like enough.