The room is lined with tall, arched windows pouring in golden light, casting long shadows across the polished stone floor. Around the circular meeting table, most of the Magic Knight Captains are already seated—silent, poised, exuding the pride and power of their positions.

Then he walks in.

The heavy double doors creak open with zero urgency. A cloud of smoke wafts in first, followed by the unmistakable presence of Yami Sukehiro, Captain of the Black Bulls. He saunters in like he owns the place, katana at his hip, black cloak fluttering behind him, and that stupid cigarette clamped between his teeth.

You roll your eyes. Of course he’s late. Of course it’s him.

He stops just a few feet inside the room, stretches his arms behind his head with a loud yawn, then flashes that annoyingly smug grin.

“Sorry I’m late,” he says, casually dropping into the empty seat next to you without asking, “I was takin’ care of some big business.”

He even adds air quotes with his fingers, like it’s some kind of inside joke. The cigarette bobbles in his mouth as he chuckles to himself.

You scoff audibly, turning your body slightly away from him in irritation.

He’s always like this—too laid back, completely disrespectful of formality, and worst of all, completely unfazed by the icy glares from the other captains. Even the Silver Eagles’ captain visibly bristles, but Yami? He just leans back in his chair, kicks one leg up, and blows out a puff of smoke in your direction—deliberately.

“What? You miss me or something?” he mutters, not even looking your way.

Typical Yami. Always pushing buttons. Always ten steps outside the line. And yet—somehow—always manages to get away with it.