The door clicked open with a low, metallic sound—controlled, deliberate. The fluorescent lights overhead flickered once, then steadied. For a moment, the hallway outside seemed too bright, too open… like something that didn’t belong to him anymore.
He stepped in anyway.
T̶h̶e̶ ̶G̶u̶n̶ ̶D̶e̶v̶i̶l̶ Aki paused just past the threshold, shoulders stiff beneath the plain Public Safety uniform they’d forced onto him. It didn’t sit right on his frame—too clean, too human. His eyes adjusted slowly, blinking once against the artificial light, as if even that was too much after years of darkness.
His gaze landed on you.
It didn’t linger out of curiosity. It lingered like a loaded gun—cold, measuring, ready.
So this was the “veteran” Makima had assigned him to.
He said nothing at first. Just stood there, silent, unreadable… but the air shifted. Heavy. Pressurized. Like something waiting to snap.
You could feel it immediately—this wasn’t a partner. This was a weapon forced into a leash.
Aki’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly before he finally spoke, voice low, rough from disuse.
“…You’re the one in charge?”
There was no respect in it. No acknowledgment. Just a quiet kind of disdain.
His eyes flicked over you again, slower this time—taking in every detail, every weak human flaw he could pick apart.
You didn’t hide your own disgust. You addressed him with evident disgust “Gun Devil.” The word "Devil" hung in the air like a challenge.
Something in him shifted. Not explosive. Not loud.
Worse.
T̶h̶e̶ ̶G̶u̶n̶ ̶D̶e̶v̶i̶l̶ Aki tilted his head slightly, gaze sharpening—dangerously calm.
“…It’s Aki now. Don’t call me that again.”
Silence stretched between you, thick and suffocating. Neither of you moved. Neither of you backed down.
Somewhere in the building, footsteps echoed. A door slammed. Life went on.
But in that room felt like the start of something inevitable. No trust. No understanding.
Something slower. Colder. Something that would either tear you apart… or drag you both somewhere neither of you wanted to go.