Splash—
Asa Mitaka was holding a watering can, carefully dousing Teacher Tanaka's irises. Her face burned crimson, as if she might melt into the ground. She wished she could disappear entirely.
The shoe fit perfectly.
Denji stood behind her, observing like a nervous guardian. He worried she might "borrow" something from Cael's shop, but her danger wasn't in her hands—it was in her head.
"Big sis, if you pour too much, they'll die," Denji warned. Only three pots of irises held Tanaka's ashes, yet Asa Mitaka seemed poised to drown them.
"Ah!" Startled by Denji's voice, she froze, set the watering can down, and waved her hands awkwardly, unsure what to do with them.
Relieved, Denji relaxed. It was just a little boy—not the terrifying man from before.
Asa Mitaka forced a laugh, attempting to mask her embarrassment. "Little… little boy, do you know which family irises belong to?"
Denji pouted defensively. "I've never been to school, so no. But I do know they die if you overwater them."
Instead of offense, Asa's curiosity peaked. "Oh? That's fine. I can explain. Irises are perennial herbaceous plants in the genus Iris of the family Iridaceae. They grow mostly on sunny slopes, forest edges, and wetlands. They like warmth, sun, and are resistant to cold and drought. They prefer well-drained, humus-rich soil, slightly acidic to slightly alkaline, but cannot tolerate waterlogging…"
Denji's brow furrowed. His head spun. Is she narrating a nature documentary? Her tone and cadence mirrored every documentary he had ever seen.
"Wait—you just said waterlogging is bad. So why did you pour so much?" he asked, catching the contradiction.
"I… I was watering them to mourn my teacher," she stammered.
"Wow," Denji muttered, suspicious. "Interesting way to mourn." He wondered if she would also flood graves when visiting her ancestors.
Asa Mitaka's lip twitched. "I've finished mourning. Sorry for intruding."
Cael cleaned the courtyard but never took his eyes off Asa Mitaka. His vigilance was for Denji's sake. Her earlier behavior had been too unpredictable. Any suspicious move, and he could react instantly, pulling her with Dark Water if needed.
Back when his Constitution was 14, using Dark Water to lift a handgun was effortless. Now, with 114 Constitution points, even pulling the corpse transport van into the air was trivial.
As Asa Mitaka approached him, Cael feigned disinterest, sweeping the courtyard with practiced motions, keeping the dust from settling.
But she stopped in front of him, awkwardly lifting her foot.
"Tha… thank you. Here's your shoe back."
Thud. Cael jabbed the broom into the ground. "Asa Mitaka, what is the meaning of this?"
"Huh?" she blinked, dazed.
"I mean, by returning the shoe like this, aren't you forcing me to walk you home? Sorry, shop's busy. I can't leave."
She quickly shook her head. "No… no! I didn't mean that. I just wanted to return your shoe."
Cael frowned. "Then put it on and go home yourself. Your socks have holes; I can't watch you go barefoot like that."
Her heart skipped a beat. Is he… caring about me?
The War Devil inside her grinned. Ha! I told you. He likes you. Now's your chance, Asa. Confess.
"Drop dead!" Asa blurted, flustered.
"Huh?" Cael tilted his head, confused.
Her blush deepened. "Ah! Sumimasen! No, I wasn't talking to you! I… I have a split personality! I was cursing myself, not you. Really, thank you!"
Trouble from the mouth: she had accidentally spoken the War Devil's thoughts aloud.
Cael sighed and reached out, rubbing her head gently. "Alright, alright. I get it. Now, put your shoe on. Or do you want me to do it for you?"
"I'll do it myself."
Asa slipped the shoe on at record speed.
She hesitated at the courtyard gate, then looked back, suddenly realizing something.
"You left something behind?" Cael asked.
Biting her lip, she gripped her skirt hem. "I… I still don't know your name."
"My name is Cael," he said, pointing to the sign above the shop. "This is my place."
She nodded, mentally etching his name into her heart. Encountering someone like him unexpectedly made life feel… not so bad.
"Cael, in a few days, I'll clean these shoes and return them," she promised.
He shrugged. "It's just a pair of shoes. Keep them if you like. Otherwise, sell them for scrap."
"Mm," she responded, walking away with long, determined strides. No way she'd sell them. Returning the shoes gave her an excuse to come back.
"Take care, and watch out for devils on the road," Cael called after her. Odd, perhaps, given her possible identity as a devil—but it was instinctive. His empathy extended even to the seemingly vulnerable. Denji had it, and now Asa.
"I'll be fine, Cael!" she shouted, gathering her courage. Her mood lifted with the shoes fitting properly. Her stride was confident, undeterred by the dark night.
Then—thud.
A faceplant on the pavement. That looked painful.
"Haha, clumsy fool," the War Devil mocked from within.
Asa calmly got up, brushed herself off, and carefully wiped her skirt, ignoring the jibe.
The War Devil mused. Asa, are these shoes valuable? How much could they sell for?
"Tsk, you're the idiot here," Asa muttered quietly.