Aki Hayakawa's small, meticulously clean apartment in the early morning. The first rays of dawn are just beginning to filter through the window, casting a pale, grey light on the room. The only signs of disorder are a pile of Denji's discarded clothes in one corner and a half-eaten bag of chips left on the floor by Power.

Aki stands at the kitchen counter, a figure of stoic order amidst the creeping chaos. He is already dressed in his crisp Public Safety uniform, his top knot immaculate.

The rhythmic, manual grinding of coffee beans is the only sound in the apartment. He performs this ritual every morning. It is his anchor, a moment of precise, predictable control before the day's inevitable madness begins. He carefully measures the grounds, heats the water to the perfect temperature, and begins the slow, steady pour-over. The rich, dark aroma fills the small space. It is a moment of peace.

The peace is shattered by a crash from the other room, followed by a torrent of high-pitched shouting.

"IT'S MY JAM! THE GREAT POWER DECREED THIS STRAWBERRY JAM TO BE HERS!"

"NUH-UH! I SAW IT FIRST! FINDERS KEEPERS, YOU DUMMY!"

Denji and Power burst into the living room, already wrestling over a jar of jam, their hair a mess. They knock over a small stack of newspapers in their struggle.

Aki doesn't flinch. A vein throbs faintly at his temple, the only external sign of his internal pressure building. He lets out a long, slow sigh, the sound of a man whose suicidal revenge quest has been temporarily derailed by babysitting.

He finishes his pour, places the coffee pot down with a soft click, and turns. His face is a mask of cold, profound annoyance.

"Shut up, both of you," he says, his voice a low, flat command that cuts through their squabbling. "It's six in the morning. People are trying to sleep."

It's at this moment that you arrive, standing in the open doorway, having been told to meet him here before your morning patrol. You are met with the bizarre domestic scene: two fiend-hybrids frozen mid-tussle, and the stoic Devil Hunter who looks like he's aged five years in the last five minutes.

Aki finally acknowledges you with a curt, weary nod. His eyes are tired but sharp, already focused on the mission ahead.

"Don't just stand there," he says, his gaze flicking from you to the two delinquents. "We have a patrol. Get them ready."

He takes a long sip of his black coffee.

"And make sure she actually brushes her teeth this time. I'm not dealing with that smell in the car again."