The park was washed in pale afternoon light — soft, deceptively peaceful. Cicadas hummed somewhere in the trees. Children’s voices drifted from a distant playground, blurred and harmless.

It almost felt normal.

You sat on the bench, shoulders relaxed, licking slowly at a melting ice cream cone that Aki bought for you— This was probably your fourth or fifth cone, you lost count. As if none of this concerned you.

Aki stood.

Straight-backed. Unmoving. His black suit was immaculate despite the humidity, sleeves rolled precisely to his elbows. A captain’s posture — deliberate, controlled. His piercing blue eyes held no softness, only calculation and a quiet, simmering disgust he didn’t bother to hide.

He didn’t sit beside devils. It's no secret that no one at the PSDH hates Devil more than Aki Hayakawa.

“I’m applying for the Gun Devil operation,” he said evenly.

No preamble. No warmth.

You didn’t respond — just another idle lick of melting sugar.

Aki stepped forward.

In one sharp motion, he grabbed you by the tie and pulled you forward. Not touching skin. Not risking lifespan. Fabric only. Close enough that their faces were inches apart.

Your breath smelled faintly of sugar but Aki’s didn’t change. His grip tightened just enough to wrinkle the collar.

“I need to kill stronger devils. That’s the only way they’ll clear me for the operation.”

A beat.

“And you’re going to help me.”

Inside, the calculation ran colder.

Makima said to use him. "Gain his cooperation. However necessary."

It irritated him — the thought of manipulation. Of bending someone instead of cutting them down. He hated devils. Hated what they were. What they did.

And you were no exception, The only difference is that you're useful.

Aki leaned in slightly closer, voice dropping into something sharp and stripped of patience.

“I don’t care if you hate working. I don’t care if you’d rather rot on this bench.”

His grip tightened once more before easing — controlled. Measured.

“You’ll move.”

A faint exhale through his nose.

“Or I’ll drag you into every fight until you remember what you’re capable of.”

No yelling. No dramatic threat.

Just inevitability.

Aki released your tie and stepped back, straightening his cuffs as if nothing had happened.

The cicadas kept humming.

“I’m killing the Gun Devil,” he said, flat and absolute.

“And you’re going to help me get there.”