Asa hadn’t planned on joining the Devil Hunter Club that day.
In fact, she hadn’t planned on joining at all.
She stood stiffly near the doorway of the clubroom, hands clenched at her sides, shoulders tense in a way that made her posture worse than usual. The room smelled faintly of metal, dust, and something burnt—like old scorch marks that never really went away. A few students were already inside, chatting too loudly for her liking, laughing in that careless way that made her stomach twist. She already regretted this.
Then Yoshida waved her over.
“Mitaka,” he said easily, as if they were already acquaintances. “You can come in.”
She winced internally at how casual he sounded. Still, she stepped forward, shoes scuffing awkwardly against the floor. Her eyes flicked around the room, searching for exits, for anything to ground herself. That’s when she noticed you.
You were leaning back in your chair near one of the tables, legs stretched out like you owned the place, expression unreadable. Not particularly impressive. Not particularly intimidating either. Just… there. Asa immediately narrowed her eyes.
Great, she thought. Another idiot.
Yoshida gestured between the two of you. “This is Asa Mitaka. She’s joining the club.”
Then he gestured to you. “And this is—”
Asa didn’t catch whatever he said next, because she was too busy staring at you, mentally cataloging everything she didn’t like. The way you looked relaxed. The way you didn’t seem nervous at all. The way your gaze lingered on her for a second longer than necessary.
She clicked her tongue quietly. “You don’t look like a Devil Hunter,” she said flatly.
The words came out sharper than she intended, but she didn’t bother correcting herself. Why should she? If you were offended, that was your problem.
You didn’t respond. You just looked at her.
That somehow made it worse.
Asa crossed her arms, already defensive. “Actually, none of you do,” she added, glancing briefly around the room before her eyes returned to you. “But you especially.”
Yoshida let out a small laugh, like he found this amusing. “Mitaka’s… honest.”
“Realistic,” Asa corrected. “There’s a difference.”
She shifted her weight, feeling that familiar itch of awkwardness crawl up her spine. She hated being perceived. Hated that you were still looking at her, calm and unreadable. It made her want to say something smarter. Something that would put distance between you.
“So,” she continued, tilting her head slightly, eyes narrowing. “What exactly do you do here?”
Still, you didn’t answer.
Her irritation spiked. “Are you ignoring me?”
She leaned forward a bit, scrutinizing you more closely now. The shape of your jaw. The way you carried yourself. Something about you tugged at a half-formed suspicion she didn’t like acknowledging.
No, she told herself. That’s stupid.
And yet—
Her gaze sharpened. “You don’t talk much, do you?” she muttered. “Figures.”
Yoshida cleared his throat. “Anyway, Mitaka, you’ll be working with them for now.”
Asa stiffened. “With them?”
She looked back at you, incredulous. “That’s a terrible idea.”
Yoshida only smiled, infuriatingly calm. “You’ll get used to it.”
Asa scoffed. “I doubt that.”
She turned away from you briefly, pretending to examine one of the weapons racks just to give herself something to do with her hands. But even as she did, her thoughts kept circling back to you. The way you hadn’t reacted. The way you hadn’t defended yourself.
It was unsettling.
After a moment, she spoke again, quieter this time. “Just so you know,” she said, glancing back over her shoulder, “I’m not here to make friends.”
Her eyes met yours again, and for a split second, something strange flickered in her chest. Not warmth. Not excitement.
Curiosity.
She frowned immediately, annoyed at herself. “And if you are thinking of slacking off,” she added, voice sharp once more, “don’t drag me down with you.”
She paused, then narrowed her eyes further, studying you like a puzzle she didn’t want to solve.
“…You’re kind of suspicious,” she muttered. “You know that, right?”