The day had finally bled into night. The office smelled faintly of tatami and warm miso, the low light from the desk lamp giving the room a cozy but slightly worn-down glow.
A small spread of Japanese dishes sat in the center of the low table — grilled mackerel, miso soup, rice, and pickled vegetables. Beside them, as if the meal had invited its more chaotic cousins, were two bottles of very non-Japanese beverages — one of vodka, the other of tequila.
Adalbert was already halfway through his third helping, chopsticks clacking with the precision of a man who approached eating with the same theatrical commitment as performing on stage. His crisp white shirt sleeves were rolled neatly to the elbow, though a faint smear of soy sauce betrayed his earlier zeal.
Mischa, shirtless as always in the privacy of the office, leaned back on one arm and cradled a half-full vodka glass with the other. He was already a shade more relaxed than usual, his ice-grey eyes glinting in the lamplight.
Akuma sat at his desk but not at the table, his body turned toward the large office window. Outside, the night stretched out in ink-black calm, the stars just beginning to pierce through the dark. His towel from earlier still hung around his neck, and his gaze was far away.
Mischa was the first to break the silence.
"Boss, you're lucky, you know," he said with a faint grin, lifting his glass toward him. "Recruiting the Mejiro prodigy on your first week? Most trainers would sell their left arm for that kind of miracle."
From across the table, Adal didn't even look up from his plate. "Mmm. This fish. It is divine. Light, delicate, perfect salt balance…" His words trailed into more praise about the food that nobody was really listening to.
Akuma gave a quiet chuckle but didn't turn around. "…I just wonder if we can actually… hone them. Push them beyond the dazzling they already are, into the unbelievable I know they can be."
Mischa snorted and set his glass down. "You're overthinking again." He leaned forward, his thick forearms resting on the table. "We should be talking about where we'll put all the trophies we're gonna win — not doubting if we can get them there. You've got McQueen. You've got us and our trainees too. What's left to worry about?"
Adal, still eating, raised a single finger in agreement. "Mischa is right. You fret far too much, Headmaster. Your job is simple: cook delicious food and focus on your precious trainee. The rest will… fall into place. Like the snow in winter."
Akuma's lips curved slightly, though he still looked at the stars. "…You two make it sound so easy."
"It is easy," Mischa said flatly, refilling his glass. "We train them. We push them. They win. We drink. Repeat until dead or rich."
Adal chuckled, placing his chopsticks neatly onto his plate. "And perhaps, in the meantime, we teach them a little grace, a little discipline, a little—"
"—drama?" Mischa interrupted, smirking.
Adal smiled like a man caught red-handed. "Perhaps."
The room fell into a comfortable quiet again, broken only by the faint clink of Mischa pouring another drink and the sound of Adal savoring the last bite of his meal.
Akuma finally sighed, leaning back in his chair. "…Suppose you're both right."
"Of course we are," Mischa said without hesitation.
Akuma's eyes turned back to the window. The stars seemed brighter now, scattered like distant trophies waiting to be claimed. He stayed like that for a while, letting the conversation fade into the background, his mind somewhere far down the track.
The office door slammed open with the force of a hurricane.
"AKUMA! MISCHA! ADAL!" Gold Ship's voice tore through the quiet like a cannon blast. "Why wasn't I invited to this awesome party?!"
Trailing behind her, Mejiro McQueen was pinching the bridge of her nose, ears angled back in a clear sign of frustration. "I told you to wait until we were actually announced. And stop yelling indoors!"
Mischa, halfway through raising his glass again, simply arched one pale brow. "Party? We gave you money to eat somewhere else."
McQueen, still in the doorway, smoothed her hair and offered a polite bow. "Yes, well… Rice Shower suggested we could buy food and eat here together."
From behind her, Rice Shower froze like a deer caught in headlights. "I–I just thought… it would be… nice…"
Adal immediately set his chopsticks down and gestured grandly toward the table. "My dear trainee! What a splendid idea. Come, join us — the headmaster's food is not to be missed."
With a long, resigned sigh, Akuma rose from his seat and walked over to the trio. Without a word, he took the grocery bags from McQueen's hands. "Thank you for bringing this… but no drinking for you three."
Gold Ship's ears flicked. "Boo. Fine. But this—" She plopped a massive bag of marshmallows on the table with the solemnity of a gambler laying down his final bet. "—means we can have a different kind of contest."
Mischa, in the middle of a drink, perked up. "Contest?"
"Chubby bunny," Gold Ship declared. "Winner gets bragging rights for the rest of the month."
The Russian's smirk widened. "You're on." He shoved his glass aside and rolled his shoulders like he was preparing for an arm-wrestling match.
Akuma, standing just out of their blast radius, shook his head as Gold Ship and Mischa sat across from each other, each grabbing a fistful of marshmallows. The first "Chubby bunny" was already muttered through puffed cheeks before Akuma even returned to his desk.
Adal, meanwhile, was elegantly plating some of the groceries while chatting with Rice Shower, who seemed both flustered and oddly proud at the praise her trainer was showering upon her.
McQueen crossed the room with quiet grace and stopped beside Akuma's desk. Her tail swished once behind her before settling. "You're not going to join them?"
Akuma glanced toward the chaos, then back at her with a small chuckle. "…I prefer to cut loose after I've earned it."
McQueen tilted her head slightly, her pale violet eyes narrowing just a touch as she studied him. Then she let out a soft sigh that quickly turned into a warm, exasperated smile. "Then I suppose we should work hard to make sure we both earn it."
That got another chuckle out of him. "Suppose so."
They stood there for a moment, side by side, the sounds of muffled laughter and garbled "chubby bunny" attempts filling the background. Outside, the moon hung low and bright, its silver glow spilling across the worn wooden floor of the office.
Akuma's gaze lingered on it, and McQueen followed his eyes. For a brief moment, it felt like the noisy world behind them had faded entirely, leaving only the two of them and the quiet promise of what lay ahead.