Old had a long day. To put it lightly… it’d been hell.

Being a salesman wasn’t an easy job—not for someone like him. Most days, he could handle it. But today… today, the customers were the kind that crawled under your skin and stayed there. Scummy, loud, fake smiles and greed in their eyes.

It pissed him off more than he wanted to admit. Especially when Tatsumiya—that same damned coworker from his early days—was getting through the day just fine. Of course she was. She always did. He wasn’t the friendly type, never had been. Maybe he was too rough, too sharp, maybe people could smell the temper on him.

Still, he’d tried. He’d really tried to tone it down this time.

Didn’t work.

Now there were complaints… and a headache that felt like a harpoon lodged behind his eyes.

By the time he reached Meikai’s door, he was tired in every sense of the word. He ran a clawed hand through his messy hair, exhaling a low breath through his teeth. The faint light from Meikai’s home glowed through the fog—cold and soft.

Meikai had probably already heard what happened. Old knew he wouldn’t be furious—Meikai didn’t get mad easily. Still… there was that strange, tight feeling in his gut.

Nervousness? No. Couldn’t be. He wasn’t like that.

His tail flicked once, slow and irritated, before settling behind him. The world was quiet; school wasn’t out yet, meaning no Samekichi, no Sal. And Meikai’s daughter, Wadanohara, wouldn’t be around either.

Silence answered him when he knocked. He waited a moment longer, then sighed.

“...Tch. Figures.”

He crossed his arms, brow furrowed, before finally calling out in his usual gruff drawl. “Are ya comin’ to the door or not? It’s Old, Meikai!”