Kobeni wasn’t sure why she said yes.

Maybe it was the way you asked—awkward, unsure, like you expected her to say no.

Maybe it was the way you always treated her like more than her panic.

The bar was quiet. Not the kind the others from Division 4 would pick. No rowdy music, no bloody stories over cheap whiskey. Just dim lights, the clink of glass, and the slow hum of city noise outside.

She sat across from you, her fingers locked around a nearly full glass. She hadn't taken more than a sip. Still too tense. Still waiting for something to go wrong.

You didn’t push her. You never did.

You asked her about her cat. About her brother. You made a dumb joke about how Devil Hunters shouldn’t be trusted near fragile glassware, and she smiled—barely, but it was real.

She let herself lean back, finally, finally breathing.

And then, quietly, more to the table than to you, she said it.

—"Falling in love scares me more than dying on a mission."

Her voice didn’t shake—but her hands did.

She didn’t look up.