With the Harionago pinned, the fight was almost insultingly easy. It was like a training exercise. Kizawa and I moved in sync, a whirlwind of steel and righteous fury. He used his dual blades to parry and slash away the remaining flailing locks of hair, creating an opening. I took it, darting under his guard and driving both my daggers into the demon's heart.
She let out one last, agonized scream before dissolving into a cloud of shimmering black dust that smelled faintly of cherry blossoms.
Erima dropped down from her tree as silently as a cat. "Took you long enough," she said, though the small smile on her face told us she was impressed.
"We had it covered," Kizawa huffed, sheathing his swords.
"Right. You 'had it covered' by running around like headless chickens until I pinned the giant evil hair monster for you," she retorted, not missing a beat.
I just laughed, clapping them both on the shoulder. "Whatever. We make a good team."
It felt true. The three of us together… it felt right.
We collected the bounty the next morning, splitting it three ways. With a pouch full of coins, we decided to celebrate by wandering through the town's grand bazaar, a sprawling, chaotic marketplace that sold everything from exotic spices to questionable antiques.
"Ooh, let's get some takoyaki!" I said, dragging them toward a food stall.
"I'm telling you, Kizawa, your taste is just unrefined," Erima was saying, reigniting an earlier argument. "Kimonos with dragon patterns are classic, not 'old-fashioned'."
"They look like something my grandpa would wear!" he shot back, his mouth full of octopus ball.
It was in the middle of this very important debate that we felt it - a sudden, sharp spike of demonic energy. It was different from what we'd felt before. It was… crackling. Unstable. Like static electricity in the air.
The three of us stopped dead, our playful moods vanishing instantly. We scanned the crowded bazaar. Everything looked normal on the surface, but the energy was definitely coming from a cramped alleyway between a pottery shop and a textile merchant.
"Trouble never takes a day off, does it?" Kizawa sighed.
"Wouldn't be any fun if it did," I grinned, already moving toward the alley.
We crept to the entrance and peered around the corner. The alley was a dead end, filled with discarded crates and overflowing bins. The demonic energy was pulsing from a small, rat-like demon-a Sogenbi, known for being pests that chewed through things and caused minor hauntings. It was a basic demon, barely a threat.
But it wasn't alone.
Facing the demon was a young man, maybe a year or two older than us. He had spiky, dark brown hair and was wearing a simple, dark tunic. His back was to us, but we could see he was trembling, not with fear, but with what looked like barely controlled rage. His fists were clenched so tightly his knuckles were white.
"You… you filthy little creature," the boy growled, his voice low and seething with hatred. "You think you can just run around causing trouble? Scaring people? I'll incinerate you!"
The Sogenbi squeaked and scurried back, clearly terrified.
"Who's this guy?" Erima whispered. "He seems a little… intense."
"He's going to get himself hurt," Kizawa added. "That thing might be small, but it has nasty claws."
The boy didn't seem to care. He took a step forward, and a faint, purple aura began to glow around his hands. "Disappear!" he yelled.
He thrust his hand forward, and a small, crackling ball of violet energy shot out. It wasn't a very powerful spell, more like a firecracker than a cannonball, but it was definitely magic. The energy ball zipped through the air and hit a stack of wooden crates right next to the demon, which promptly exploded into splinters.
The Sogenbi, seeing its chance, screeched and scurried up the wall, disappearing onto the rooftops.
The boy stared at the spot where the demon had been, his shoulders slumping. He kicked a loose stone in frustration. "Tch! Missed! Stupid, useless…!"
"Hey," I said, stepping into the alley. "You okay there? You seem a little stressed."
He spun around, startled. His eyes were a sharp, intelligent brown, but they were filled with frustration. When he saw us, his angry expression morphed into a scowl.
"Who are you? Were you watching me?" he demanded, crossing his arms.
"We were," Erima said, leaning against the alley wall, looking completely unimpressed. "Your aim is terrible."
The boy's face turned a delightful shade of red. "I-I wasn't trying to hit it! I was trying to scare it! It's a different magical principle entirely! Not that a commoner like you would understand!"
I couldn't help but laugh. "A commoner? Wow. Okay, your highness. Well, for a 'scaring' spell, you did a great job of almost blowing up that pottery shop."
"It's not my fault the demonic aura in this town is so thick it interferes with my incantations!" he snapped back defensively.
This guy was something else. He was clearly a magician of some sort, but his attitude was a mess. Kizawa stepped forward, trying to be diplomatic. "Look, we hunt demons. We just wanted to make sure you weren't in over your head."
The boy scoffed. "I don't need help from a brute with swords and his… associates. I am perfectly capable of handling vermin on my own."
He had a massive chip on his shoulder. And for some reason, I found it hilarious. I decided then and there that teasing him was going to be my new favorite hobby.
"Aww, is the little magician mad he couldn't squish a rat?" I said in a baby voice, poking him in the arm.
He flinched back like I'd burned him. "Don't touch me! And I am not 'little'!"
"Okay, okay, sorry," I said, holding my hands up, still grinning. "What's your name, Mr. Anger-Management-Issues?"
He looked like he was about to explode. "It's Yogawa! And I don't have anger issues! I have a righteous and perfectly justified hatred for all demonic beings!"
"Yogawa, huh?" I said, tapping my chin. "Well, Yogawa, we're Mizuki, Kizawa, and Erima. And whether you like it or not, it looks like we're in the same business."
"I am not in business with you," he grumbled, turning his back on us. "I work alone."
"Suit yourself," I shrugged. "But that little rat-demon is still scurrying around on the rooftops. Probably chewing on someone's chimney right now."
Yogawa froze. He let out a long, suffering sigh and slowly turned back around, his face a perfect mask of tsundere agony. It was clear he hated the idea of the demon getting away more than he hated the idea of accepting help.
"…Which way did it go?" he mumbled, refusing to meet our eyes.
I grinned at Kizawa and Erima. This was going to be fun.