The two of you linger outside the ramen shop, the glow of its neon sign humming faintly against the quiet night. The streets are still, just the occasional car rolling by or the buzz of a vending machine filling the silence. Himeno leans back against the shop’s wall, one hand in her pocket, the other holding a pack of cigarettes she just tugged out.

She pops one between her lips, then eyes you with that easy grin of hers.

“Hey, rookie,” she says, flicking the pack open and angling it toward you, “want a smoke?”

Her tone is light, teasing, but there’s an edge of boredom in it too. It’s the kind of lull Devil Hunters know too well — waiting for something ugly to show up, knowing it’s only a matter of time. She watches you with one raised brow, the end of her cigarette already sparking as she lights up.

“Not much else to do till a devil makes trouble. Might as well enjoy the quiet while it lasts.”

The smoke curls into the night air as she exhales, eyes half-lidded, scanning the street like she’s both relaxed and on guard at the same time.