The administrative wing of the Hunter's Liaison Office didn't smell like rot or gunpowder. It smelled like expensive air filtration, toner, and the frantic, sour sweat of a man who knew his quarterly mortality quotas were about to trigger a performance review.
Sakura Watanabe didn't knock so much as she announced her presence by existing near the door. She stepped into the office of Kenji, the Supervisor of Individual Contractors, with the grace of a shark gliding into a lagoon.
Kenji was hunched over a mahogany desk, his tie loosened and his receding hairline gleaming under the fluorescent lights.
Beside him stood his stepdaughter, Mai. She was barely twenty, dressed in a sharp intern's suit that looked two sizes too big for her trembling frame. She was wiping her palms on her skirt, her eyes darting between her stepfather and the door.
Sakura sat down without being asked. She slid a thin manila folder across the desk. It contained a single polaroid of what used to be Daiki Yoshida's neck.
"Reporting a fatality," Sakura said, her voice as cool as a morgue slab. "Daiki Yoshida. 5th Deviation. Decapitated by a Grade 4 Mimic. The kill was confirmed and processed by the junior members."
Kenji picked up the folder, glanced at the photo, and immediately turned it face down. His face went a shade of grey that matched his cheap suit.
"Again, Sakura?" Kenji's voice cracked. "This is the third lead hunter you've lost in six weeks. The board is asking questions. My internal auditors are asking questions. Why the hell are the fatality rates in your unit spiking like a heart monitor in a seizure?"
Mai let out a small, nervous squeak, her gaze fixed firmly on her shoes.
Sakura leaned back, crossing her legs. "It's the rookies, Kenji. They come in with high Deviation scores and low survival instincts. They think their 'energy' makes them immortal. They don't take proper measures. They get arrogant. They get eaten. It's a self-correcting problem."
"It's a PR nightmare!" Kenji hissed, leaning over the desk. "I can't keep feeding you contractors if they're just ending up as demon fertilizer within a month. It looks bad on my reports. It looks like... like you're not managing them."
Sakura tilted her head, a dangerous glint in her violet eyes. "Are you suggesting I'm incompetent, Kenji? Or just that the talent pool is shallow?"
Kenji swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing. He looked at Mai, then back at Sakura. He needed a win. He needed something to show the board that Sakura wasn't just a glamorous executioner.
"I suggest," Kenji said, trying to regain some semblance of authority, "that you go on the next job. Personally. Lead the rookies. Let them see a high-spec hunter actually execute a demon. Give them some... I don't know, inspiration. Show them how to stay alive so I can stop filing death certificates before lunch."
Sakura stared at him for a long, agonizing minute. The silence in the room was thick enough to choke on. Finally, she stood up, smoothing her white blazer.
"Fine," she said. "I'll play mentor for a day. I'll show them how it's done. But if they still die, Kenji, I want a higher budget for the next recruitment cycle."
She didn't wait for an answer. She turned and swept out of the room, leaving Kenji and a very shaken Mai in her wake.
Back at the Minato apartment, the atmosphere was... awkward.
Yuki was sitting on the floor, meticulously cleaning the blood off her boots with a toothbrush.
Masaru was slumped in a chair, staring intensely at a microwave burrito like he was trying to cook it with his mind.
The door opened, and Sakura stepped in. Following behind her was a guy who looked like he'd gotten lost on his way to a boy band audition.
He was blonde, tall, and carried a backpack that looked brand new. He had a wide, playful grin that suggested he hadn't yet realized that the floor he was standing on had been soaked in Daiki's blood less than twenty-four hours ago.
"Team," Sakura announced, "this is Alex Scott. He's an immigrant from the UK. 4th Deviation. He'll be filling the vacancy left by Daiki."
"Ello!" Alex said, his accent thick and suspiciously cheerful. "Right then. Bit grim in here, isn't it? Could use a plant or two. Maybe a nice fern?"
Yuki looked up, her face flushing a deep pink. She stood up quickly, nearly tripping over her boots. "O-oh! Hello. I'm Yuki. Nice to... nice to meet you, Alex-san."
Alex beamed at her. "Cheers, love. Happy to be here. Always wanted to see Tokyo. Didn't realize the demons were so... well, I suppose they're the same everywhere, yeah? Just need a good thrashing."
Masaru didn't look up from his burrito. He didn't even blink.
"Fascinating," Masaru muttered. "He talks like a cartoon and he thinks ferns are going to save his life. Great pick, Sakura. Really top-tier stuff."
Alex walked over to Masaru, extending a hand. "And you must be the 2nd Deviation I heard about. Kobayashi, right? Heard you've got a right proper trigger finger."
Masaru finally looked up. His eyes were bloodshot, cynical, and utterly bored. He didn't take the hand.
"Listen, Goldilocks," Masaru said, his voice flat. "Do me a favor. When we go out there, try not to get your head chopped off by a demonic kid. It's a real mood killer, and I'm tired of dragging headless corpses through the lobby. It's bad for my back."
Alex's grin faltered for a fraction of a second, but he laughed it off, dropping his hand. "Right. No head-chopping. I'll put that at the top of the to-do list, mate."
"Do that," Masaru said, finally biting into his burrito. "And stay off the left side of the fridge. That's mine. You touch my coffee, and I'll be the one taking a Deviation out of your skull."
Sakura watched the exchange with a cold, distant curiosity. "Get acquainted. We leave in an hour. And since Kenji is worried about your health... I'll be coming with you."
Yuki gasped. Masaru actually stopped chewing.
"You're coming?" Masaru asked, skeptical.
"To inspire you," Sakura said, the word tasting like poison. "Try not to disappoint me."