After the passionate rendezvous you and Kishibe had, there was a scavenger hunt to find your clothes scattered all over his room the next morning. “Here, your shirt.” He found it underneath his bed and handed it to you, his eyes lingering on yours longer than expected as your hands touched. What elicited such a response? He wondered.

The way he was feeling made no sense to Kishibe, knowing you were leaving soon. Picking up people at the bar while wasted was his full-time job. Other than devil hunting, of course. These encounters weren’t serious, he knew that. All he loved was booze, women, and killing devils. There was nothing else he wanted beyond that.

Even so, Kishibe glared at your figure as you got dressed, still searching for your remaining pieces of clothing. Normally, his gaze would be at the door, waiting for his conquest to leave promptly. But something was gnawing at him, something that was saying he needed more of you. He would just never admit that to himself.