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It had all started a few days earlier. Loid had mentioned in passing that it’d been a while since his last real combat mission, admitting, with mild frustration, that his reflexes were beginning to feel a little dull.
Training alone could only get him so far, it was one thing to throw punches at a dummy or to analyze tactical footage, and quite another to face a real opponent.
Most of the WISE agents were constantly being sent across the country, hopping from one assignment to the next. And those who were free simply weren’t on his level, sparring with them would be little more than a warm-up.
So he’d resigned himself to solo practice again, until Yor heard him.
“Then… maybe you could train with me?” She had said, her voice carrying that familiar mix of cheerfulness and eagerness that always caught him off guard. Her crimson eyes practically sparkled at the suggestion, and her smile was so bright that Loid’s carefully rational mind faltered for just a moment.
But then she tilted her head and asked again, a little shyly this time. “It’s just… I think it’d be fun! And it’s been a while since I’ve trained with anyone seriously.” There was no way he could say no to her after that.
The next morning, he’d gone to Handler with a casual request, permission to use one of the training facilities WISE kept hidden under the city, officially to test some of Franky’s latest gadgets. The explanation was thin, but it was Loid Forger, Agent Twilight, so she didn’t ask too many questions.
That’s how, several days later, the two of them found themselves in an underground facility, well hidden beneath one of the hangars in the industrial district.
The place was vast and dimly lit, all concrete and steel, the fluorescent lights hummed faintly above, their pale glow reflecting off polished floors marked with faint scuffs from old training sessions. A thin layer of dust clung to the corners of the room, disturbed only by the sound of their footsteps echoing as they walked inside.
It was a Saturday, neither of them had missions assigned, and the quiet hum of the city above was replaced here by the distant rattle of pipes and machinery.
Before leaving home, they had called Yuri and asked if he could look after Anya for the day. His reaction had been, predictably, intense. “Wait, you what? You’re going out together? For what reason exactly, Loidy?” His voice on the other end of the line had been sharp enough to make Loid pinch the bridge of his nose.
“We just have a few errands to run.” He replied smoothly, tone calm, professional as always.
“Errands?” Yuri repeated suspiciously. “Without the Chihuahua girl?!”
“Yuri, it’s nothing dangerous.” Yor cut in quickly, her voice gentle and reassuring. “Please? I’ll make something delicious for lunch when we get back!”
There was a long pause, followed by a reluctant sigh. “Fine, I’ll do it for you, sister.”
“Thank you, Yuri! You’re the best.” Yor said with genuine cheer, and Loid could practically hear his brother-in-law melting on the other end of the call.
Meanwhile, both Loid and Anya, who had been hearing from the couch, shared the same deadpan expression.
“Do we really have to eat what Unkie eats too?” Anya muttered under her breath, tilting her head back with an exaggerated groan.
Loid smiled faintly but said nothing, it was, after all, a small price to pay for the activity they had planned.
Once inside the facility, Loid made his way toward one of the metal lockers lined neatly along the wall. The faint echo of their footsteps followed them through the corridor, the air filled with the sterile scent of metal, floor polish, and faint traces of chalk from old training sessions. He set his duffel bag on the bench, unzipping it and pulling out his training gear.
From inside, he took out a folded set for Yor as well, handing it to her with his usual composed expression. “Here.” His voice calm, professional as always, though there was a small, almost imperceptible warmth in the way his eyes softened when they met hers.
“Thank you.” Yor replied, her smile bright, genuine.
They parted to change in the separate locker rooms, the metallic click of doors echoing behind them.
When Loid emerged a few minutes later, he was adjusting the cloth wraps around his hands, winding them tightly over his knuckles and wrists. Just the kind of protection a professional would use when he expected the session to get intense.
Yor appeared shortly after, her hair tied back neatly, her expression calm but eyes glinting with quiet excitement. She, too, had wrapped her hands in soft white cloth, the fabric hugging her skin snugly, giving her an oddly elegant yet dangerous appearance, the kind of balance only she could pull off so effortlessly.
The training room itself stretched wide before them, a vast space covered in thick, grey mats that muffled the sound of their steps. Wooden bars lined one wall while the far end of the room was filled with sleek machines, cables, and pulleys. The air was cool and faintly smelled of rubber and metal, the lights above flickering faintly with a quiet hum.
They stepped into the center of the mat.
Yor stretched first, lowering her torso gracefully to touch the floor before arching back with fluid control. Her movements were elegant, precise and Loid followed, stretching his arms and shoulders, every motion measured, his posture perfectly straight.
“So…” Yor asked softly, glancing at him as she bent one leg behind her. “What exactly did you want to practice today?”
He paused mid-stretch, tilting his head slightly toward her. “Nothing specific.” He said after a beat, his tone even, eyes calm. “Just a bit of real sparring, to get the muscles warmed up again, and maybe learn a thing or two from your techniques.”
Yor blinked in surprise at the compliment, her cheeks coloring just slightly. “Oh! Well… I’ll try to go easy on you, then.” She said, smiling playfully.
Loid’s lips curved faintly. “That won’t be necessary.”
Without another word, Yor stepped back, her expression shifting, playful warmth replaced by sharp focus. She took a fighting stance with instinctive precision, body lowering, and weight perfectly balanced. Loid mirrored her movement, analyzing every subtle shift of her posture, the way her feet angled, the flex in her knees.
For a brief moment, neither moved. The room fell silent except for the distant hum of the ventilation system and the faint rhythm of their breathing.
Then Yor moved.
It happened in a blur, her body cutting through the air like a streak of motion. She closed the distance in less than a second, her fist aimed cleanly at Loid’s side. The sheer speed forced his instincts into overdrive. He twisted just in time, her knuckles grazing the edge of his shirt.
He caught her wrist before she could retract, pivoting smoothly to use her momentum against her. His grip was firm but controlled, the movement meant to shift her balance and open her guard. For a split second, he thought he had her.
But she countered effortlessly.
She rotated her body, twisting out of his hold with a grace that defied logic, her legs sweeping low in a circular motion. Loid barely jumped back in time, the air of her kick brushing against his ankles.
“Fast.” He muttered under his breath, landing lightly.
Yor smiled, straightening just a little, eyes gleaming with the thrill of the match.
They circled each other again. The soft sound of bare feet against the mat filled the silence between strikes. He focused on strategy, analyzing her movements, identifying patterns, calculating timing while she, on the other hand, moved with instinctual precision, each motion flowing into the next like muscle memory carved deep over years of constant practice.
Her strikes weren’t just powerful, they were efficient. Each punch and kick landed exactly where it needed to, each dodge perfectly measured. Loid’s superior technique allowed him to anticipate her patterns, to read her intent before it struck, but her raw strength, her speed, the sheer physical force behind every motion kept pushing him back, forcing him to adapt constantly.
At one point, he ducked under a punch, swept her leg, and nearly brought her down, only for Yor to twist mid-fall, using the momentum to flip over him and land behind his shoulder, her hand brushing against his neck in a mock strike that would’ve ended the fight if she’d wanted it to.
“Point for me.” She said, her voice cheerful despite her breathing growing faster.
Loid exhaled, shaking his head slightly, a smile tugging at his lips. “We’re only just getting started.”
They continued like that, a dance of motion, sharp and fluid, testing each other’s limits. He managed to catch her off guard a few times, exploiting the smallest openings, using leverage and timing to reverse her momentum.
But more often than not, Yor’s sheer physical power and instinct carried her through. Loid could feel it in every strike that met his guard, every kick that sent a tremor through the mat beneath their feet.
Finally, in one swift motion, she caught him off-balance after a brief exchange. Her arm hooked behind his, her leg sweeping low, and before he could recover, the world tilted.
Loid hit the mat with a thud, breath leaving his lungs in a short exhale. In an instant, Yor was over him, straddling his waist, her forearm pressing lightly against his shoulder, keeping him perfectly pinned.
Her smile was radiant, proud, triumphant, but never mocking. “Looks like I win again.” She said, her tone light, teasing but warm.
Loid looked up at her, one corner of his mouth curving into a small smirk. “You’re enjoying this a bit too much.”
“Maybe just a little.” She admitted, laughing softly.
A spark of competitiveness flickered between them, subtle but unmistakable, as Yor laughed softly and stepped back to let him rise.
They continued for several more rounds. Loid managed to win a few, using his wit and tactical precision to surprise her, catching her balance or turning her momentum against her. But most of the time, the result was the same, Yor’s strength, experience, and instinct won out.
Each time she pinned him, that same proud smile returned, and each time, Loid found himself smiling back, the faint burn of challenge and admiration mixing in his chest as the training went on.
When they finally pulled apart to rest, the room had fallen quiet again, their breathing came steady but deep, the faint sheen of sweat catching on their skin under the bright fluorescent lights.
Loid walked toward the duffel bag resting by the wall, the rubber soles of his shoes brushing softly against the mats. He crouched, unzipped the bag, and pulled out two water bottles, condensation trickling down the plastic from the coolness inside.
He handed one to Yor without a word, offering it with his usual composed efficiency. She accepted it with a grateful smile, brushing a loose strand of hair from her face before bringing the bottle to her lips. The soft sound of her swallowing echoed faintly in the empty space.
“Thank you.” She said between breaths, lowering the bottle. “This is… fun.”
Loid gave a small, almost imperceptible nod, unscrewing his own bottle and taking a measured sip. “It was… more intense than I expected.” He admitted quietly, though there was a faint trace of amusement in his tone.
Yor tilted her head slightly, studying him with the same gentle attentiveness she always did. After a moment, her expression softened into something between admiration and thoughtfulness.
“You have really good technique.” She said, her voice warm but sincere. “But…” She hesitated briefly, her brow furrowing just a little. “It’s clear you’re more comfortable fighting with a gun than with your hands.”
Loid paused mid-drink, glancing at her over the rim of the bottle. He let out a quiet exhale, lowering it again.
“You’re not wrong.” He admitted with a faint smile. “It’s been a while since I’ve needed to rely on hand-to-hand combat. Most of my recent missions have been focused on infiltration and intelligence gathering, and firearms let me keep my distance.”
Yor nodded slowly, thoughtful. “That makes sense.” She said, turning the bottle in her hands absently, watching a bead of water roll down the side. “But you know… even when you’re armed, close combat can happen before you realize it.”
Loid chuckled softly. “You sound like my old instructor.”
She laughed a little, embarrassed. “Oh! I didn’t mean to lecture you or anything…”
“No.” He interrupted gently, his tone calm, reassuring. “You’re right, and coming from you, it’s good advice.”
That seemed to fluster her even more. Yor averted her eyes for a second, scratching lightly at her cheek with a shy smile. “Well… if you ever find yourself too close to shoot, the important thing is efficiency. You don’t always need strength, just balance and timing.”
Loid tilted his head, listening with genuine interest. “Go on.”
Yor’s tone shifted subtly, still gentle, but laced with quiet confidence. “For example… when you tried to redirect my arm earlier, your grip was perfect, but your stance was a little too upright. If you lower your center of gravity, even just a little, you can move faster and use less energy. It’ll make your counterattacks smoother.”
Loid considered that, nodding once. “That explains why you were able to slip out so easily.”
Yor smiled faintly, pleased that he understood so quickly. “Exactly, and, um…” She mimed the motion with her hands as she spoke, her fingers tracing invisible patterns through the air. “When you go for a disarm, don’t follow through with too much force. You rely a lot on momentum, which is good, but if someone stronger grabs onto you, you’ll lose your balance first.”
He couldn’t help the small smirk that tugged at his mouth. “You’ve clearly had a lot of practice with that.”
“I… suppose so.” She said softly, looking a little bashful again. “It just becomes second nature after a while.”
Loid studied her for a moment, his expression thoughtful but warm. “I can tell, your form is nearly flawless, definitely not something learned from a manual.”
Her cheeks colored slightly at the praise, though she tried to brush it off with a shy laugh. “Thank you.”
Loid nodded again, unscrewing his bottle cap and taking another sip, the water cool against his throat. The silence that followed wasn’t awkward, just calm, a shared quiet between two people who understood what it meant to live by precision and discipline.
He finally spoke, voice low but genuine. “Your insight’s appreciated. I’ll make the adjustments next round.”
Yor smiled at him, eyes bright. “Lets see if they work.”
They soon found themselves back in the center of the training room. The air still carried the faint trace of exertion, the smell of sweat, rubber mats, and the metallic tang that always seemed to linger in underground facilities like this one.
Both of them rolled their shoulders and flexed their hands, the sound of knuckles cracking softly breaking the silence. Yor tied her hair back a little tighter, her breathing steady and her expression relaxed yet focused. Loid, on the other hand, was studying her with a meticulous eye, but there was something lighter in his gaze now, something almost playful.
As they took their places again, Loid broke the quiet with a low, calm voice. “How about we make this more interesting?” He said, his lips curving slightly.
Yor blinked, straightening a little. “What’s on your mind?”
He nodded once, a faint smirk playing on his face. “A wager, whoever loses the most rounds from now on has to wake up Anya for the next two weeks.”
Yor tilted her head, eyes wide with curiosity. “A bet?” Her smile started to grow. “But I think I got the upper hand here.”
Loid exhaled a quiet chuckle. “We’ll have to find out, Mrs. Forger.”
She laughed softly, her cheeks warming as she placed her hands on her hips. “All right.” She said finally, her tone bright and confident. “You’re on.”
They both stepped back into stance. The atmosphere shifted, lighthearted yet charged with competitive tension. The faint hum of the overhead lights seemed to fade into the background as their focus narrowed entirely on each other.
The first round began with Loid taking the initiative. He moved fast, deliberate, his motions sharp and efficient. Yor met him effortlessly, deflecting each strike with the ease of muscle memory, her expression calm but eyes shining with determination.
The soft thuds of their feet on the mats echoed in rhythm, a steady pattern of advance and retreat. Loid’s precision clashed with Yor’s instinct; he feinted, shifted, and tried to predict, while she responded with fluid adaptability that broke every pattern he built.
“Not bad.” She said between movements, dodging one of his kicks by mere inches.
“You sound surprised.” He replied, his tone even but a hint of amusement slipping through.
“Not surprised.” She said, countering with a palm strike that he barely blocked. “Just impressed.”
He smirked faintly at that, ducking under her next blow and catching her arm. For a brief instant, it looked as though he might turn the tide, but Yor twisted again, breaking free with a quick pivot and striking at his side before he could react.
The round ended with Loid forced back, touching his ribs with a small nod. “You’ve been holding back.”
“You think so?” She said playfully, brushing a stray strand of hair from her forehead.
The next round began almost immediately after, neither wanting to rest for long. This time, Loid adjusted, his movements more flexible, less predictable. He used feints and sudden direction changes to disrupt her rhythm, his tactical mind analyzing every possible opening.
Yor, though momentarily caught off guard, adapted again, her body flowing around him like water. But Loid managed to slip behind her guard, catching her balance and bringing her down gently onto the mat before releasing her.
“That’s one for me.” He said, offering his hand to help her up.
She took it, smiling brightly. “Looks like we’re tied.”
They stood again, facing each other, both breathing a little heavier now. The silence stretched, only the hum of the lights and the soft pulse of their hearts filling the air.
“So…” Loid said, rolling his shoulders and adjusting his stance. “This one’s the tiebreaker, then?”
Yor nodded, her smile fading into focused calm. “Yes, last round.”
Their gazes met, steady, intent, not as husband and wife now but as equals on the mat.
Neither moved at first. The tension was almost tangible, coiled in the air between them, then, without a word, they lunged at the same time.
The rhythm of their fight was faster now, more fluid, a blur of movement and sound. Loid’s strikes were controlled, precise, each one angled to redirect or trap while Yor countered with instinct and speed, her motions efficient, honed through years of repetition. Every kick, every twist of her body carried a quiet strength that pressed against his defenses again and again.
They exchanged a flurry of blows, their movements blending in a dance of force and precision. Loid managed to land a strike that brushed her shoulder, but Yor responded immediately with a sweep that forced him to block low. He shifted, countering, only for her to catch his momentum, spin around, and use it to send him off balance.
Before he could recover, Yor moved in close, her hands finding leverage at his arm and shoulder. With one smooth motion, she brought him down to the mat and followed through, pinning him once again with perfect control.
Loid laid still for a moment, chest rising and falling, then let out a soft breath of laughter.
Yor leaned back slightly, still keeping her weight balanced just enough to make her victory clear. Her smile was radiant, full of satisfaction and the pure thrill of the match. “Looks like I win.” She said lightly, a trace of pride in her voice.
Loid met her eyes, the corners of his lips curving upward. “So it seems.”
She finally released him, pushing herself up and brushing her hair from her face as she stood. She took a deep breath, stretching her arms over her head and letting out a small, happy sigh, clearly pleased with herself.
He watched her quietly from the mat, still smiling, not out of defeat, but at the sight of her so alive, so bright, so genuinely enjoying herself. The room felt warmer somehow, despite the cool air, the hum of the lights soft against the steady rhythm of their breaths.
Once both of them were standing again, the air in the training room felt different. The sharp edge of adrenaline that had filled the space moments ago was slowly dissolving, replaced by a quiet heaviness and the soft echo of their breathing.
Yor brushed her hands over her arms, still flushed from exertion, and walked toward the wall where her water bottle rested. The sound of her bare feet against the mat was light, rhythmic, almost soothing after the steady impact of their sparring.
Loid watched her from where he stood, his gaze following her movements in silence. The harsh fluorescent glow caught in her hair as she moved, highlighting the curve of her shoulders, the strength and grace in every step she took.
He exhaled slowly. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he told himself to look away, to focus on something else, but he didn’t.
Instead, he started walking toward her.
Yor heard the sound of his footsteps behind her and, assuming he was coming to fetch his own bottle, reached for hers on the ledge. She wrapped her fingers around it and was just about to turn around when she suddenly felt his presence close, too close, and then the warmth of his arms slid around her from behind.
Her breath caught in her throat.
Loid’s body pressed gently against hers, his arms looping around her waist with quiet certainty, pulling her close until her back rested against his chest. He lowered his head, letting his forehead rest softly against her shoulder, his breath warm against the side of her neck.
Yor froze for a second, not in alarm but in surprise, blinking as her heartbeat quickened. “L-Loid?” She murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “What happened?”
He didn’t answer right away. Instead, his hold around her tightened just slightly, not possessive, but steady, grounding.
“Nothing.” He said finally, his voice low, calm, but carrying a tenderness that made her chest tighten. “I just realized… we haven’t had much time alone lately.”
Yor tilted her head a little, feeling the soft brush of his hair against her cheek.
“Between the missions…” He continued quietly. “The work… and taking care of Anya and Bond… it feels like we’ve been running nonstop.” He exhaled softly, a small sigh against her shoulder. “I guess I just wanted a moment with you. Just… us.”
Yor’s lips curved into a gentle smile that he couldn’t see from where he stood. “You’re right.” She said softly, resting her hands lightly over his where they circled her waist. “We haven’t, have we?”
She turned her head slightly, enough to catch his profile from the corner of her eye, his expression calm, yet something about it softer than usual.
“Let me turn around.” She murmured quietly.
Loid loosened his hold without a word, and Yor shifted carefully in his arms, turning until she was facing him. For a brief moment, she simply looked at him, his golden hair damp from sweat, a few strands clinging to his forehead, his usual perfectly measured composure replaced by something far more human.
Then she stepped forward, closing the small distance between them, and wrapped her arms around him in return.
The embrace was simple, wordless, yet it carried a weight that neither of them needed to explain. Loid’s hands settled gently at her back, his fingers tracing small, absent-minded patterns through the fabric of her shirt.
Yor’s cheek rested against his chest, and she could hear the quiet rhythm of his heartbeat beneath the steady hum of the lights.
For a moment, neither moved. The air around them felt still, almost suspended, like the world outside had paused just to give them this brief reprieve.
She found herself thinking about how strange life could be. How she’d spent years believing she was destined to walk her path alone, killing in shadows, living in silence, and yet somehow, here she was, held in the arms of a man who knew her for who she truly was. Someone who saw her, not the mask.
Loid’s thoughts weren’t so different. He had built his life on deception, on control and precision, a spy with no room for attachment, no time for something as impractical as affection. And yet, against all logic, against every instinct that had once defined him, this woman had quietly dismantled every wall he’d built.
It was strange, he thought, how the world could twist in ways that led you exactly where you needed to be, even if you never meant to get there.
After a long moment, Yor pulled back just slightly, still within his arms, her hands resting lightly on his chest. She tilted her head up to meet his gaze, a soft smile touching her lips.
“How about.” She said gently. “We make the most of the time we have then?”
The words lingered between them, a quiet, open invitation.
Loid’s eyes softened, a flicker of emotion crossing them before he leaned in. The space between them disappeared as he lowered his head, his breath brushing against her lips before he finally closed the distance.
The kiss was soft at first, brief, almost hesitant, as though he were giving her time to pull away. Yor froze in surprise for the barest heartbeat, her mind blank except for the warmth spreading through her chest.
Then she melted into it.
Her hands slid up instinctively, fingers threading through the short strands of his hair before resting at the back of his neck. The contact deepened the kiss, slow and unhurried but full of quiet passion, a silent conversation in every movement.
Loid’s hands tightened at her waist, pulling her a little closer, his thumb brushing against her hip in an unconscious gesture of tenderness. Yor tilted her head, responding in kind, the sound of their mingled breaths soft against the still air.
For a few more heartbeats, neither of them wanted to let go. Their lips met again, softly at first, then with a growing certainty, a quiet ache that neither could fully suppress.
They parted briefly, only to find each other again, breathing each other’s air between small, lingering touches. The sound of it, quiet breaths, the faint slide of fabric, the barely audible sighs, filled the empty training room more completely than any words could have.
Loid’s hand moved instinctively, finding its place at the small of Yor’s back, feeling the steady rhythm of her heartbeat beneath his palm. He could still sense the faint tremor of adrenaline in her body, the remnants of their sparring now blending into something far gentler, but no less intense.
At some point, without either of them realizing it, they began to drift backward. Loid’s steps were careful, protective even, until finally, her back brushed softly against the cool surface of the wall.
The contrast between the chill of the metal and the warmth of Loid’s body made her draw in a small, uneven breath. Her hands rested lightly on his shoulders, and when he drew back just enough for her to see him, she found his eyes fixed on her, calm, thoughtful, and yet filled with something deeper, something unspoken.
Neither of them said a word.
He leaned forward again, and their lips met once more, slower now, as though they were memorizing the shape and taste of the moment itself. Every movement was deliberate, gentle, but heavy with feeling.
Yor’s fingers curled slightly in the fabric of his shirt, and Loid’s hand rose to cradle her jaw, his thumb brushing along her cheekbone in a gesture so tender it made her heart tighten.
She could feel her pulse in her throat, quick and fluttering, the same way it did before a mission, but this wasn’t fear. It was something far more vulnerable.
How strange, she thought fleetingly, that someone like her could feel something like this.
When they finally broke apart again, their foreheads lingered close, their breaths shallow and mingled. For a moment, it seemed as if they might simply stay like that, suspended in the quiet rhythm of shared silence.
But Loid didn’t go back to her lips this time.
Instead, his mouth moved downward, slow and uncertain at first, as though asking permission without words. Yor barely had time to register the movement before she felt the faint warmth of his breath against her neck, and then the soft press of his lips against her skin.
A startled sound escaped her before she could stop it, a tiny gasp caught between surprise and something softer. Her fingers tightened against his shoulders, not to push him away but simply out of instinct, her pulse quickening at the unfamiliar yet gentle sensation.
“L-Loid…” She whispered, her voice trembling slightly, unsure if she was trying to question him or simply say his name.
He didn’t respond immediately, just rested there for a second, his lips still near her collarbone, his breath steady but unguarded. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet, lower than before.
“Sorry.” He murmured, though there was no real apology in the word, only honesty. “I just… got carried away.”
Yor’s heartbeat slowed a little at that, and she let out a soft, shaky laugh that seemed to melt some of the tension in the air. “Don’t worry…” She said gently, her hands relaxing against him.
He lifted his head, and for a heartbeat they just looked at each other, eyes meeting, steady, full of warmth and something that didn’t need to be said aloud.
They leaned toward each other again, the air seemed warmer now, charged with the lingering heat of their earlier sparring and the closeness that had grown between them. Their breaths mingled softly, and for a moment, the world outside faded entirely.
Just as their lips were about to meet, Yor pulled back abruptly. He blinked in surprise, his brow furrowing slightly. “Yor? What’s wrong?” He asked, his voice calm but edged with concern.
Yor raised one hand to rub the side of her neck, her movements hesitant. Her eyes were wide, and when she looked at him, there was a flicker of alarm mingled with curiosity. “Did… did you leave a mark?” She asked, her voice low but carrying a trace of worry.
Loid tilted his head forward instinctively, his gaze sharp and attentive as he studied her neck. There, at the side, a faint patch of redness caught his eye. He nodded, confirming the small evidence of their closeness. “Yes…” He said simply, the tone neutral but carrying a hint of amusement.
Yor’s eyes widened as she glanced down at the small mark, then back at him. “We… we have to be home in less than an hour and...” She said, voice slightly tense. “Yuri’s going to notice if there’s a mark on my neck.”
Loid’s expression shifted immediately from calm observation to understanding, he exhaled quietly, a dry humor in his voice. “Right. He’d… probably kill me if he saw it.” He said, his gaze softening as he met hers.
For a few seconds, they just looked at each other, quietly laughing imagining Yuri's expression if he saw the mark on her neck.
Finally, Loid spoke again, voice calm. “We could always try to cover it with makeup.” He suggested, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.
Yor nodded, a small, relieved smile spreading across her face. “Yes… but we need to shower and change first anyway, before heading out.” She said, rubbing her neck lightly. “We still have to stop by the supermarket to get the ingredients for lunch.”
Loid’s eyes flickered with anticipation at the thought of Yor’s cooking, he swallowed and tilted his head slightly, trying to hide the small spark of horror in his expression. “Do you… want me to help you cook today?” He asked, his voice careful.
Yor turned her gaze toward him, smiling knowingly as though she already understood what he was thinking. “Don’t worry.” She said gently, stepping closer. “I’ll be making southern stew, so you don’t need to prepare for the worst.”
Loid blinked, caught off guard, a nervous smile tugging at his lips. “I… I wasn’t thinking about that.” He said, a little flustered, though the subtle warmth in his eyes betrayed him.
Yor’s smile widened, warm and reassuring. She leaned in slightly, brushing her lips against his in a soft, fleeting kiss that carried both affection and a quiet intimacy. Then, with a light step, she passed him, her figure moving gracefully toward the showers at the far end of the training room.
Loid watched her go for a moment, a small, fond smile spreading across his face. He adjusted the wraps on his hands absentmindedly, the heat in his chest lingering.
After a few seconds, he too walked toward the showers, his mind still replaying the gentle press of her lips and the quiet certainty that she would always find ways to surprise him, even in the simplest moments.
Loid stepped into the showers, the sound of water echoing softly off the tiles and the warmth of the streams cascaded over his shoulders, relaxing muscles that were sore and tight from the morning’s sparring.
Some spots on his body throbbed faintly, yet he found himself smiling unconsciously, the memory of her grinning like a mischievous child after landing a strike or dodging one perfectly replaying in his mind.
After a few minutes, he finally turned off the water and stepped out, wrapping a soft towel around his waist. The cool air of the locker room brushed against his damp skin, and he moved toward his bag, the tiles under his feet cold against his bare soles. He began drying his hair with another towel, muscle memory guiding his hands as he worked.
Once mostly dry, he reached into his bag and pulled out his emergency kit, the one he kept for missions. He laid it carefully on the bench and opened it, selecting a small makeup brush and a couple of bottles of foundation. He packed the kit back into the bag along with his change of clothes, slinging it over his shoulder.
By the time he stepped out of the shower area, Yor was already changed. She stood a few meters away, checking the corners of the training facility, her posture relaxed yet alert, as though even in quiet moments she couldn’t fully detach from the instinct to observe and assess. Her hair fell neatly over one shoulder, the faint scent of soap lingering as she turned slightly to meet his gaze.
Loid’s lips curved into a small smile as he approached her. “So…” He asked casually, though his tone carried a hint of curiosity. “You like Wise’s training facilities?”
Yor looked him over with an appraising glance, eyes narrowing just slightly as she studied the mats, the machines, and the wide-open space. “They’re very professional.” She replied, her tone calm and measured. “Much more… refined than Garden’s. Their facilities are more… rudimentary perhaps, a little less… cared for.”
Loid nodded, his expression thoughtful. “Well, Wise invests only in the best, after all.”
They walked together to a bench near the edge of the mats, settling down as Yor moved her hair to one side, exposing the small area on her neck where the faint mark had been. Loid, kneeling slightly to get a better angle, carefully selected the foundation that matched her skin tone most closely. He swirled the brush lightly, picking up just enough product, and then, with gentle, precise strokes, began to cover the redness.
After a few minutes of careful application, Loid leaned back slightly, observing his work critically. The mark was invisible to the naked eye, and his brow relaxed into a faint smile at the success of the task.
“Is it ready?” Yor asked softly, her tone calm.
Loid nodded, setting the brush and bottles aside. “Yes.” He replied simply, a quiet satisfaction in his voice.
They both stood, collecting their things, and together they walked toward the exit. Yor moved ahead slightly, her eyes scanning the path, already reviewing in her mind the ingredients they would need for the meal she planned to cook. Loid followed closely behind, matching her pace, feeling the quiet rhythm of their shared steps.
The gentle rhythm of the city buzzed softly around them as they walked through the supermarket aisles, lights casting a mellow glow over rows of neatly stacked products.
Yor pushed the cart ahead, her steps light and unhurried, while Loid walked beside her with one arm resting loosely around her waist. The contact was subtle but comforting, the kind of simple domestic intimacy they rarely had time to indulge in outside the house.
Yor scanned the shelves with quiet focus, occasionally reaching out to pick up vegetables or spices, while Loid leaned slightly closer, murmuring suggestions or noting the quality of certain items with his usual precision.
At one point, Yor paused by a new display stand. “Oh.” She said softly, eyes brightening. “Look, they finally have those peanut cookies Anya kept talking about.”
Loid followed her gaze, the corner of his mouth lifting into a faint smile. “The ones she saw in that commercial last week?”
Yor nodded, already reaching to take a box from the shelf. “She’ll be so happy.” She said, placing it gently into the cart.
Loid’s arm gave a small squeeze around her waist. “It’ll make up for us being gone this morning.” He said quietly, his tone somewhere between fond and guilty.
Yor tilted her head toward him, smiling. “You worry too much, she knows we were running errands. Besides, she had Yuri to keep her entertained.”
Loid sighed faintly, though the amusement in his expression was unmistakable. “Entertained… that’s debatable.”
Yor let out a small laugh, pressing a hand to her lips to stifle the sound. “Be nice, Yuri’s not that bad.” She chided softly, though her eyes sparkled with amusement.
After a while, the cart was filled, meat, vegetables, spices, and the few things Anya had written down on her small, uneven grocery list, complete with doodles of peanuts and Bondman stickers. They checked out, Yor thanked the cashier politely while Loid packed the bags efficiently, as if it were a small mission in itself.
Outside, the morning light had softened, the air cool and gentle as they walked toward the car. The city’s hum surrounded them, distant chatter, the faint sound of traffic, the occasional call of a vendor opening shop. It all blended into a calm backdrop as they drove home, the quiet between them filled with soft conversation.
They talked about Anya’s schoolwork, her latest art project that had somehow turned into a drawing of Bondman fighting a giant peanut monster, and about upcoming missions that might keep them busy in the following weeks.
Loid’s tone was steady and thoughtful, while Yor listened attentively, occasionally offering a lighthearted comment that made him glance her way, smiling despite himself.
By the time they reached their building, twilight had deepened, painting the edges of the sky with violet and indigo. They parked the car, and Loid stepped out first, carrying one of the grocery bags while Yor took the other. The hallway was quiet except for the soft echo of their footsteps on the stairs as they made their way up to their apartment.
Before they reached the door, faint noises drifted through, Anya’s voice, high and dramatic, imitating one of Bondman’s heroic speeches. Loid paused, a quiet laugh escaping him, and Yor’s lips curved into a fond smile.
“She really loves Bondman.” She murmured, her eyes soft.
He nodded, setting down one of the bags and fishing the key from his pocket. But just as he reached for the lock, Yor’s voice stopped him.
“Loid.” She said gently.
He turned to look at her, and before he could ask what was wrong, she leaned in and kissed him.
It was a soft, tender kiss, brief but full of quiet warmth, the kind that lingered in the chest long after it ended. When they pulled apart, her eyes met his, bright and full of affection.
“We should do this again sometime.” Yor said, her smile small but genuine, her voice tinged with shy playfulness.
Loid’s expression softened instantly. “I’d like that.” He replied, and leaned forward slightly, about to kiss her again.
But the sound of quick footsteps from inside made them both freeze.
The door burst open before Loid could react, and Yuri appeared, his expression brightening instantly when he saw Yor. “Sis! You’re back!” He said enthusiastically, hurrying over to her. He wrapped his arms around her in a quick, tight hug, then turned his gaze toward Loid, his face shifting into a barely concealed scowl.
“Loidy.” He muttered under his breath, his jaw tightening.
Loid forced a polite smile. “Yuri.”
Before the tension could rise, Anya appeared behind her uncle, eyes lighting up when she saw her parents. “Mama! Papa!” She cried, running over with her usual enthusiasm. Bond padded in behind her, tail wagging.
Yor knelt to scoop Anya into a hug, the groceries’ bag temporarily forgotten on the floor. Loid bent down to give Bond a quick pat before retrieving the bags, watching the small scene unfold with quiet affection.
Together, they stepped inside, the apartment instantly filled with the comforting noise of family life, Anya’s laughter, Yuri’s complaints, Yor’s gentle voice trying to keep order, and the occasional sigh from Loid as he adjusted to the cheerful chaos.
For a brief moment, it all felt… right.
The next day, at Wise headquarters, Handler sat across from Twilight in the dimly lit briefing room, flipping through a file. Without looking up, she asked. “So, was the training facility useful?”
Loid’s expression didn’t change much, professional as ever, but a faint smile curved his lips, almost imperceptible. “Yes.” He replied evenly. “It was time well spent, I may make use of the facilities again in the future.”
Handler’s eyes flicked up to study him, one brow raising slightly, but she said nothing more.
Loid simply adjusted his tie, his expression calm, though the faint warmth in his eyes betrayed a quiet satisfaction that had nothing to do with the mission at all.