Re: Thrust Into The World Of Anime

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**Zane POV**

Morning light seeped through the blinds, painting stripes across the unfamiliar second pillow. For three blissful seconds, I forgot. Then the rhythmic *thump-thump* of another heartbeat registered—too close, too human and something in between—and I bolted upright. *Right. Sona. Lives. Here.*

The bathroom door creaked as I shuffled in, half-asleep. Steam curled lazily around the edges of the shower curtain, and then—

*Oh.*

A sliver of pale shoulder. Damp hair clinging to the glass like ink spills. The faintest hum of a melody I'd never heard her sing. My brain short-circuited, searing the image into my mental hard drive before my survival instincts kicked in. I retreated silently… after a *second* glance. Strictly for artistic appreciation.

**Sona POV**

His forehead thudded against the living room floor, messy bedhead grazing my knees. "Forgive me, O Great Devil Overlord!" he intoned, voice dripping with mock solemnity. "I swear upon my retro game collection—"

"You *peeked twice*," I said, crossing my arms. The traitorous heat in my cheeks betrayed me.

He peered up through his lashes, all faux innocence. "A grave mistake! I'll atone by cooking breakfast. Braised beef? Pancakes drizzled in—"

"Where did you even *get* Wagyu at 7 AM?"

"Trade secret~"

**Later**

The beef melted like sin on my tongue. Across the table, Zane leaned forward, elbows propped up, eyes sharp and expectant beneath those absurdly long lashes. "Well?"

"Adequate," I said, dabbing my mouth. His grin faltered. *Got him.* "...For a first attempt."

The kitchen timer ticked loudly as he processed this. Then—

"DATE."

My chopsticks froze mid-air. "Pardon?"

"You. Me. Clothes shopping." He gestured at my uniform blazer hanging by the door. "Unless you plan to negotiate with the Sitri clan in pleated skirts forever."

'I couldn't help but notice the slight blunder in pronunciation'

**The Devil Wears Joggers**

She emerged from the bedroom drowning in my oversized MIT sweatshirt, hem brushing her thighs. My traitorous *eyes*—those cursed hybrid Six Eyes—pulsed with violet light, morphing briefly into heart shapes before I wrestled control back.

"Problem?" she asked, adjusting her glasses. The sweatshirt slipped off one shoulder.

*Yes. Several.* "Nope. Let's burn capitalism."

**Car Dealership Carnage**

The Koenigsegg Jesko Absolut gleamed under showroom lights like a silver bullet. Salesman Tanaka sniffed at Zane's graphic tee and joggers. "Perhaps the *Honda* section would suit—"

A black card slid across the counter. "Wrap it. And throw in the Pagani behind you for her."

My jaw clenched. "Zane. *What* lawyer?"

"Irrelevant! Watch this—" He revved the engine, grinning like Rias spotting a new dress. "They called it a 'hypercar.' Let's hyper *everything*."

**Electronics Store Apocalypse**

"Why," I muttered, jugling seven phone boxes, "do you need *every* flagship?"

He paused mid-unboxing of a titanium-plated Redmagic. "Same reason you own 37 chess sets. *Options.*"

The clerk wept tears of joy as Zane added a vintage Game Boy Advance to his pile. "For *texture*," he explained solemnly.

**Post-Shopping Zen**

Sunset dyed the parking lot gold as we collapsed into the Jesko, bags spilling holographic Switch cartridges.

"Still hate me?" he asked, fiddling with the seat warmer.

I stole a fry from his forgotten takeout bag. "Less."

His smirk softened to form a smile. "Progress."

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