Morning at Yahata Mercenary Corps
The long wooden table at its center bore the scars of countless meals and brawls, the dark grain marked by knife gouges and the occasional scorched patch. Overhead, dim lanterns cast flickering light, their soft glow struggling to push back the ever-encroaching gloom that seeped in from the fortress's stone walls. Yahata’s dining hall was a sturdy, well-worn space, a far cry from the lavish banquet rooms of Youdu’s upper districts, but comfortable in its own right.
Hajun sat near the end of the table, hunched over in his usual fashion, with his shackled arms resting against the wood. He looked disheveled, as always, with his long, dark pinkish hair an unruly mess, strands falling over sharp, half-lidded eyes that carried the dull weight of someone too stubborn to die and too dumb to quit. His teeth, jagged and predatory, peeked out from the lazy smirk that never quite left his face, as if every moment held some private joke that only he found amusing.
Across from him, Shion barely concealed her distaste. She held her teacup delicately between slender fingers, her expression one of controlled exasperation as she glanced at the uninvited guest sullying their breakfast.
“I think,” she said smoothly, “that I may have been too generous letting you sit at the table like a person.”
Hajun blinked at her, his slow, bovine stare almost convincing enough to make one think he hadn’t understood. But then he grinned, wide and toothy. “Y'could always let me sit on your lap instead.”
Shion’s smile was the kind that preceded bloodshed.
Before she could respond, whether with words or violence, Tsugumi interrupted.
"The boss' way of speaking is rubbing off on him, he really is a bad influence..." The red-haired, bat-winged woman remained composed as she cut a slice of toast from the communal basket and reached for the butter dish.
“Hajun,” she said simply, holding the butter out to him.
He turned to her, and for the first time that morning, his expression shifted into something almost resembling thoughtfulness. He stared at the butter, then at Tsugumi, then back at the butter. A long moment passed. Then, with all the care of a man weighing life and death, he accepted it.
“...Thanks.”
Tsugumi nodded, and Hajun, under the watchful gazes of the table, proceeded to butter his toast.
He raised the toast to his mouth.
And then, just as his teeth were about to sink in, his muscles locked.
His hand, acting of its own accord, placed the toast back onto his plate. And then, just as mechanically, he picked it up again and extended it toward Tsugumi.
“For you.”
Tsugumi blinked. “What?”
“Can’t take gifts,” Hajun grunted, his voice more strained now, like he was resisting an invisible force. “Gotta give back equal or greater. You gave me butter. Here.” He shoved the toast at her.
Shion let out a sharp, delighted laugh. “Oh, this is too good.”
Tsugumi sighed but took the toast. “Fine. Then I suppose I’ll take this.”
Hajun nodded in satisfaction. But just as quickly, Shion passed another slice of toast to him.
He hesitated, knowing where this was going. His hand twitched as if trying to rebel against his own instinct, but the moment he accepted the toast, the weight of the vow pressed down once more.
He stared at the fresh slice.
Then, reluctantly, he reached for the butter again.
This continued.
Each time Hajun received something, he immediately had to return it in kind. She kept offering him more in return. Before long, an absurd rhythm developed, Hajun buttering toast, giving it away, receiving another slice, buttering that, giving it away again.
By the time he realized what was happening, Shion was openly laughing into her tea.
Hajun gnawed at the inside of his cheek as he swallowed down nothing. The toast cycle had left him empty-handed once again, though he didn’t seem particularly bothered. He scratched his jaw, his sharp nails making a quiet rasping sound as he glanced around the table.
Faisal and Shion still regarded him with the same cold indifference. Faisal as if he were a barely tolerated infestation to be exterminated, and Shion as if she were simply waiting for the moment he ceased to exist altogether.
He finally broke the silence.
“Where’s the boss?” His voice was low and coarse, like gravel sliding against itself.
Tsugumi paused. She furrowed her brow slightly. “That’s actually a good question,” she murmured, as if realizing the oddity only now. “It’s strange that he hasn’t shown up yet.”
“Tch. It’s not strange at all,” Faisal scoffed, taking a sip from her tea. Her two upper arms were folded while her lower ones were occupied, one with the delicate porcelain cup, the other idly spinning a spoon between her fingers. “That man would miss anything for sleep.”
Shion, still chewing, nodded in agreement. “And the only thing he’d miss sleep for is a woman.”
The door to the dining hall swung open right on cue.
“Ouch. You wound me, ladies.” The voice was smooth, carrying a playful lilt, effortlessly confident. Hayato Taida strode in, looking far too composed for someone who had just been the subject of open mockery.
He grinned at the gathered group, sharp and roguish. “What a way to start the morning, huh? Sitting down to breakfast, only to overhear your dear employees tarnishing your good name?” He sighed dramatically, shaking his head. “Tragic.”
Faisal and Shion didn’t bother dignifying him with a response.
Hajun, blunt as ever, scratched at his shackles and muttered, “So were they right or what?”
Tsugumi’s lips twitched upward ever so slightly.
Hayato pointed at him, as if debating whether to be offended, then just laughed. “I’ll have you know, my dear idiots, that I wasn’t sleeping or womanizing. I was working.”
That actually got a reaction.
Tsugumi, ever the professional, immediately adjusted her posture, setting down her toast. “Oh?”
Faisal arched a brow. “Unlikely.”
Shion merely blinked, waiting.
Hayato, unfazed, slipped a folded paper from his pocket and flicked it onto the table. “Feast your eyes, my beloved comrades. I have secured us a job.”
The paper unfolded slightly as it slid to a stop in front of them. Bold letters adorned the top:
THE GRAND WYRM CHIMERA HUNTING FESTIVAL
"What does it say? I can't read." said Hajun, once again breaking the silence.
Tsugumi was the only one who bothered reading it for him.
“A festival?” asked Faisal.
Hayato leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms over his head with a satisfied groan. "That's right. We’re subbing in for another group at the Wyrm Festival. Should be an easy gig, just recollecting the resources dropped by the chimeras. Nothing glamorous, but it pays."
He lazily kicked his feet up onto the table, letting the words settle before continuing.
"The ones originally hired for the job got paid upfront, and like the geniuses they are, they spent all of it on drinks. Not just any drinks, either. Turns out their little celebration got a bit too wild." He smirked. "Someone spiked their liquor with stuff from a Dan Tien Liquor Flask."
There was a collective pause. A few people exchanged glances.
"Yeah," Hayato drawled, clearly amused. "So now they're all indisposed. Probably having the most introspective hangover nightmares of their lives. Point is, they’re out of commission."
He let the room absorb that for a moment, then tilted his head. “Now here’s where it gets interesting. The ones who originally hired them? Not a hunting group.”
He tapped his fingers against the table, lips curling into a knowing grin.
“In fact, they’re actually—”
Knock, knock, knock.
"Ah. That must be them now."
Hajun let out a long-suffering sigh as he pushed himself up from his seat, already regretting that he was the one answering the door. He trudged over, his movements slow and begrudging, before gripping the handle and pulling it open.
On the other side stood a small group of Overseers. Among them, because of course he was there, was Shigure.
The moment Hajun’s eyes landed on him, his expression deadened. No hesitation, no words, just slam. The door shut right in Shigure’s smiling face.
A brief pause.
Then, another knock.
Hajun exhaled through his nose, opened the door again, Shigure was still standing there, unbothered. Their eyes met. Hajun moved to shut the door again.
But this time, Shigure was ready. His polished dress shoe wedged between the door and the frame, blocking it from closing completely.
"Oh, Hajun," Shigure sighed with faux disappointment, tilting his head. "How utterly tragic, what a waste! To think you, of all people, would be the one to open this door, when my dear sister could have graced me with her presence instead…"
He placed a dramatic hand over his heart, though his foot remained firmly planted, unmoving.
"Surely you see how cruel this is. My first greeting of the day—wasted! A grand opportunity lost forever! Do you not grasp the gravity of the situation? If it were my dear sister standing before me, her beauty illuminating the threshold like the first light of dawn, ah! What a sight that would be! A vision beyond compare, a moment I would treasure for all eternity!"
Hajun, still pushing. "Kill yourself."
Shigure beamed at him, utterly unaffected. "Oh, how heartless. You wound me so, dear debtor. And speaking of debt..."
Hajun's hands twitched. He debated if breaking the door off its hinges and using it to bludgeon Shigure into silence would go against his vow of not using weapons, but Hayato’s voice called from behind.
"Let 'em in already, Hajun. You’re just wasting your own time at this point."
Hajun let out a long exhale through his nose before abruptly stepping back, swinging the door open just wide enough for the Overseers to step through. He moved aside without a word, gaze fixed downward as if distancing himself from the entire situation.
The Overseers entered one by one.
Who he assumed was the leader stepped in first, a tall woman with short black hair and a perpetually bored expression.
Following her was a small girl who carried a sword nearly as large as she was. Her movements were too formal, almost like she was cosplaying as an overseer. Then came a woman with white hair and flaming horns standing stark against her exorcist attire, and the last girl, short hair, maid outfit, robotic demeanor that made it unclear if she was even registering anyone in the room or simply going through the motions. Finally, because of course he let the ladies go first, Shigure himself.
“Oh, Hajun,” Shigure said, gleeful. "Your debt is doubled again."
Hajun didn’t react. He simply turned around and walked away, straight toward the pile of toast.
With the Overseers seated, the air in the room settled into a more serious tone, mostly. Mika Mori, the one who seemed to be in charge, spoke up.
"So," she started. "We’re not hiring a hunting group."
She paused. Looked around the room.
Then, flatly:
"We just want someone to clean up after us."
Hayato leaned forward slightly, nodding as if he’d already figured as much. "That's right, you need a collection team."
"Mm." Mika blinked slowly, not particularly engaged. "I figured since we’re already going to the Wyrm Festival, we might as well get some use out of the things we kill. But I don’t feel like lugging around chimera bits."
Kaguya crossed her arms, puffing up proudly. "Overseers should not waste resources!" she declared. "We will be eliminating many threats, so naturally, we should make use of what we slay!"
Aoi nodded in agreement, while Hana remained expressionless.
Hayato chuckled, tilting his head toward Mika. "So basically, you dragged your colleagues to a festival as a bonding exercise, and now you need someone to handle the grunt work while you enjoy yourselves?"
Mika stared at him. "Yes."
Hayato laughed. "Fair enough."
Meanwhile, mid-conversation, Shigure’s attention drifted.
His sharp, unreadable gaze locked onto Shion, watching her watching Hajun. Shion, at this very moment, was glaring daggers at Hajun for the crime of letting Shigure inside.
Hajun, on the other hand, wasn’t paying attention to either of them.
He was longingly staring at the pile of toast.
Hayato noticed.
A heavy sigh escaped him. This wasn’t going to end well.
Time to separate them before someone got blasted into another dimension.
"Shion, Hajun," he called, clapping his hands together. "Got something for you two to do."
Shion’s eyes snapped to him, still visibly irritated. Hajun, unwilling to look away from the toast for long, half-turned his head.
Hayato pointed at Shion. "You’re running errands. Maybe pick up some good tea or snacks for our lovely guests here. Keep it simple."
Shion narrowed her eyes, unimpressed. "You're sending me out for groceries?"
"Snacks," Hayato corrected. "Vital difference."
Shion huffed, but didn’t outright refuse.
Then Hayato turned to Hajun.
"And you," he grinned, pausing for effect, "your first solo job!"
Hajun immediately perked up. His first solo job. The words rang in his head like the most beautiful melody.
He straightened, eyes sharp. Focused. Ready.
"…What is it?" he asked, anticipation in his voice.
Hayato smirked. "A delivery."
Silence.
Hajun blinked. "…A delivery?"
"Yep."
This was it. His first job. His first step toward proving himself as a member of Yahata.
"Does it count as a real, actual mercenary mission?"
"…Sure."
Hajun fist-pumped.