Adalbert's laugh carried across the snow-packed path before his words did. He clutched his stomach, struggling to compose himself as he strolled toward the sight before him.
"I was wondering what was taking you so long, Boss," he wheezed, his accent thickening with his mirth. "But I never thought you'd be poaching."
Akuma didn't bother glaring. His expression stayed as flat as the paint roller he'd abandoned earlier, even with the very visible weight on his back. Oguri Cap, arms full of bags—paint cans, nails, hardware supplies—and balanced atop those, several neatly tied food boxes. The Uma's ears were pressed flat, cheeks flushed pink as she clung carefully to him, as though trying to take up less space than she already did.
"…It was just a coincidence, really," Akuma muttered.
He crouched carefully, letting her slide off his back. Oguri touched down gingerly, immediately clutching her bags tighter as if to reclaim the work. Her lips opened in thanks, shy and formal, though the words barely made it out before her ears flicked and her cheeks darkened further.
Adalbert's laughter, however, faded as if someone had shut off a valve. His eyes sharpened, tone sobering in an instant when he caught sight of her limp. The way she tried to mask it—taking smaller steps, shifting weight subtly—only made it more obvious to trained eyes.
"…Still," he said, his voice smoothing out into something warm, "it's nice to meet you. I am Adalbert—one of the trainers here."
He extended his hand. Oguri blinked at it, hesitant, but finally accepted. The shake was firm, but then Adalbert smoothly twisted the grip, sliding the bags free before she realized what he was doing.
"H-hey!" She gasped, reaching as if to take them back, but Adalbert only laughed again, stepping away with practiced ease.
"No, no, Fräulein. Guests shouldn't carry burdens."
Her flustered tail swished behind her, ears twitching madly. She wanted to argue—clearly did—but Akuma cut the tension before it grew.
"Oguri. The others are training in the back. Why don't you go and greet them?" His voice was calm, matter-of-fact, as though he were giving a simple command.
Oguri froze. Greet the others? Her tail stilled, swishing only once more before curling low, betraying her nerves. But after a moment, she nodded quietly. "O-okay."
She started toward the back, slow and careful, each step betraying her limp even as she tried to hide it.
Adalbert waited until she was out of earshot before his lips curved into a half-smile and he leaned closer to Akuma. "…Mein Gott, you really do have a soft spot for those with tragic stories." His whisper carried no malice, only a bemused warmth.
Akuma exhaled through his nose. "…" He didn't defend himself. Didn't deny it.
"What's her story, then?" Adalbert asked, voice quieter this time, though the curiosity was sharp.
Akuma's gaze lingered on Oguri's retreating figure. "…Just another talented Uma about to be a victim of circumstance. I'm glad I ran into her."
The words were spoken so simply, but their weight sank into the air between them.
"You really have a knack for saving people, don't you, Boss?" Adalbert chuckled, though softer this time.
"I'm just lucky, really."
"Not at all Boss." A new voice slipped into the conversation, rough, teasing. "Luck may have led you to us. But it was your virtue that made us stay."
Akuma's eyes slid sideways. Mischa approached, broad-shouldered, still dusted with sawdust from the shed repair. He walked with the grounded stride of someone who had long since embraced physical labor as easily as breathing.
"You're finished already?" Akuma asked, handing him one of the takeout boxes without missing a beat.
Mischa shook his head, sighing as he accepted it. "Gold Ship insisted on a break. Ran off to join the others." He jabbed his thumb toward the race track.
The trainers' eyes followed.
There, on the edge of the track, Oguri sat, looking as though she'd been dragged into a storm she hadn't anticipated. Around her, the Umas had gathered in a tight crowd, buzzing with excitement. Tachyon was crouched right in front of her, glasses gleaming mischievously, already running her hands along Oguri's legs with blatant disregard for personal space.
Oguri's ears had gone red this time, tail puffing out as she squirmed—but Tachyon's notebook was already open, scribbles flying across the page. McQueen and Special Week flanked them, both tugging at Tachyon's arms and whining at her to stop. Scarlet and Vodka leaned over each other, arguing about something completely different but still very much in Oguri's direction.
"…A trainee of yours, I reckon?" Mischa asked around a mouthful of rice.
"No," Akuma replied simply, lowering himself onto the grass beside them. "Just offered her a place to stay. If she joins us, that's great. If not, I'll look forward to racing against her."
He smiled faintly, his demon's grin softened by the scene in front of him.
Adalbert and Mischa groaned in unison.
"You need to be more proactive, Boss," Mischa muttered.
"Indeed," Adalbert echoed, shaking his head.
Akuma scoffed, opening his own meal. "It doesn't feel right if I offer help only to force her into joining me. That's not how I work."
Their shared snickers washed over him, but he ignored them, his gaze drawn back toward the Uma crowd.
The three trainers sat in quiet for a while after that, eating side by side on the grass. Mischa's powerful frame hunched over his meal, Adalbert's posture always unnervingly elegant despite the casual setting, and Akuma—expression flat as ever, though the faint curve of his mouth betrayed the peace he felt.
The sound of laughter drifted toward them.
Oguri, though still stiff and flustered, had finally let out a small, genuine laugh. McQueen and Special Week were still tugging at Tachyon, trying to pry her away, but Tachyon's grin only widened, her glasses reflecting the winter sun. Gold Ship appeared behind them at some point, shoving a meat skewer into Oguri's mouth mid-sentence, making her flail and sputter.
"…Hn," Akuma exhaled softly, not quite a laugh, not quite a sigh.
"You see?" Adalbert smirked, tilting his head toward him. "Virtue."
Akuma didn't answer. He just ate quietly, eyes never leaving the sight of Oguri slowly—awkwardly—being pulled into their world.