Author's Note:
Some missions are dangerous.
Some are diplomatic.
And some… involve corrupting your terrifying cartel girlfriend with anime, popcorn, and war criminal fan merch.
This chapter is a breather. But for Niv and Sera, even soft moments have weight. Watch how comfort becomes vulnerability, and how being seen—really seen—can be scarier than any ambush.
The smell hit him first.
Not blood.
Not espresso.
Eggs. Miso. Toast.
Niv blinked awake, disoriented not from danger—but peace.
No breach. No alarms. No shouting in the hall. Just—
Clink.
He padded out into the kitchen.
Sera stood at the stove, bare-legged, wearing his oversized Naruto hoodie. She was humming something faintly Italian while flipping an omelet like she'd done it a hundred times.
She didn't look up.
"Morning," she said.
"You broke in."
"Used the key behind the third fern. Very subtle."
"You're wearing my hoodie."
She turned, flipping her hair over one shoulder like it had been staged.
"Hoodie theft is a real thing. This one's mine now."
Niv blinked.
"You do realize that's the Uchiha clan symbol. You're wearing mass-murderer fan merch."
"And making breakfast in it. He'd be proud."
"He'd burn the apartment down."
"Then good thing you're not Uchiha."
A beat.
"You've never even seen Naruto, have you?"
"God, no. You think I had time for cartoons growing up?"
He raised an eyebrow.
"Cartoons?"
"Don't start."
He leaned against the counter, arms crossed, watching her plate two servings of food with surgical precision.
"Babe," he said solemnly, "your world is about to change."
Later that afternoon, they curled up on the couch.
Popcorn. Blankets. Hoodie sleeves stretched down to her knuckles.
"One episode," she warned, pointing at the screen.
"Deal."
Twenty minutes in:
"He kills people by writing their names?"
"Yep."
"This isn't a cartoon. This is a moral collapse."
"Told you."
Three hours later:
"He manipulated the FBI and killed all of them. What the hell."
"Next episode?"
"Obviously."
By sunset, Niv was passed out sideways on the couch, empty popcorn bowl on his chest.
Sera sat next to him, legs pulled up, hoodie collar stretched from hours of nesting. Her bun was a mess.
She stared at the screen.
Quietly:
"If you die, I swear I'll avenge you, L."
Then she smirked, pulled the hoodie tighter around herself, and sank lower into the cushions.
Two nights later.
11:49 p.m.
Niv was on his couch, half-reading something complicated on his laptop, when his phone buzzed.
SERA:
What do you mean they're in the walls???
He blinked.
Buzz.
SERA:
WHAT DO YOU MEAN THEY'RE IN THE WALLS, NIVRIT.
He smirked.
NIV:
You started AoT, didn't you?
Pause.
SERA:
You said Death Note was dark.
This is war crimes with jump scares.
I hate you.
Pause.
SERA:
Also… Levi.
Why didn't you tell me about him?
NIV:
Because it's funnier watching you suffer in real time.
The Next Morning
9:12 a.m.
Niv opened the door expecting death.
What he got was worse.
Sera stood there in a black hoodie—two sizes too big—boots, black denim shorts, and eyeliner so sharp it belonged in a weapons cache.
Messy bun. Glossed lips.
Eyes like she hadn't slept in 48 hours—and still looked like a Vogue cover.
She walked in without a word.
"You look like you just crawled out of a war," he said.
"Because I did."
"Breakfast?"
"Only vengeance."
She dropped her bag. Collapsed onto the couch like royalty after a campaign.
Pulled a pillow into her lap and stared at the floor like it had wronged her.
"Niv."
"Yes?"
"If anything happens to Levi—"
"He's fictional."
"If. Anything. Happens."
She didn't finish the sentence.
Just took the iced coffee he handed her like a survivor taking morphine.
He glanced at her.
"…You look hot."
She blinked once, then smiled slowly.
"Good. I plan to seduce and emotionally scar you simultaneously."
He sat beside her.
"God help me."
Saturday. 3:17 PM.
Niv tossed her a freshly folded black tee, still warm from the dryer.
The design: Ryuk's grinning face stretched across the chest, eyes gleaming red.
Sera held it up.
"You serious?"
"Milestone. Your first official weeb tee."
She smirked.
Then—without breaking eye contact—peeled off her hoodie and swapped it on right there in front of him.
"I love it."
Niv blinked.
"You're really wearing that outside of ironic contexts?"
"I'm wearing this to the next cartel negotiation if they annoy me."
He choked on his coffee.
Later that evening.
Popcorn rustled.
Sera lounged with her legs across Niv's lap, a bag balanced on her shin.
He wore a faded Akatsuki shirt; she, now fully converted, had a Konoha headband pushing up her hair like a crown.
She adjusted her tee, snapped a selfie with him half in frame, and posted it to her private Instagram.
Caption:
S-rank mission: Naruto and chill 🖤 🍜
#ShinobiSaturdays #DeathNoteDrip #CoupleNoJutsu
She smirked.
Didn't even check the replies.