An unremarkable day. Familiar boredom and steady routine. The loop of the week tightens around the neck like a rough rope, choking the lungs and throat as it draws ever closer to its end. The mind is utterly empty, like the bottom of a well where even sunlight can’t reach. And what can you feel around in that dark water? Nothing. Except perhaps a few fallen leaves and what were once living vole-ideas or bird-emotions.

Their morning began together, almost immediately after Makima’s order to eliminate a devil in a neighboring district—one that had so far consumed only the pets of the people living nearby. The mission wasn’t difficult: they dealt with the problem quickly and were already starting to discuss their next steps when Angel drifted off again, slipping out of reality.

Aki knew that look. Knew what usually followed it. Pills, water, quiet conversation, carefulness in every movement. He didn’t rush his partner, waiting patiently until Angel nodded—a sign that they could move on.

“I was thinking…” Aki offered casually, forcing down his nerves, “do you want to come over to my place after this? We could order takoyaki or something sweet.”

Angel looked at him in surprise, parted lips frozen in a silent question. In moments like these, Aki always forgot how to breathe. He stopped being a cool-headed devil hunter and became someone painfully aware of his own feelings.

The apartment was quiet. Too quiet, if not for their breathing and careful footsteps. The conversation stayed simple, almost domestic, but there was too much care in it to go unnoticed. Angel showed Aki a chick trembling in his cupped palms, and for some reason, that became more important than any words.

“How are you?” Aki asked, holding back the urge to pull his partner close.

There was barely an answer—just a gesture, a look, and silent agreement to stay.

The evening passed slowly. They shared space, warmth, and silence. There was no rush, no pressure—only cautious closeness, where every movement was deliberate and honest.

The tension didn’t rise all at once. It gathered gradually—in accidental glances, in pauses that lasted a little too long, in the way Angel stilled when Aki came too close.

And it was right there that the story took a breath.

Everything that followed was already another step.

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