Nami

I step out of the train station, the long white coat I am wearing over a short pink long-sleeved dress failing to shield me from the evening’s spring breeze. Nonetheless, I cannot complain, as I absolutely love cold weather.

I glance at my white knee-length boots, which, although they fit me perfectly, are very uncomfortable and are already hurting my feet. As I wince in pain, I grumble, “Bloody high-heeled boots. Why did I choose to wear them tonight? Oh yeah, because they go well with my dress and coat. Pfft, what a bother. I should have put on jeans, a sweater, and tennis shoes.”

It is also my first time wearing makeup, golden earrings with rose quartz stones, a golden necklace with a small, delicate rose quartz pendant, and two golden bracelets. For some strange reason, I felt the need to put in extra effort getting ready for tonight’s event, even though I was reluctant to attend until the very last minute—I still am, to be honest. The prospect of spending hours with people I am hardly acquainted with does not thrill me at all.

Am I supposed to go right or left?

I check the map and instructions to the karaoke establishment that Shiokawa-san texted me last night. Supposedly, it is a ten-minute walk from where I am, and there is no way I will get lost.

Okay, then. Let us go to the karaoke.

* * *

“I do not want to do this anymore,” I snap, tears of frustration prickling my eyes when I find myself back in front of the train station again.

About an hour has passed since I began my arduous journey to the karaoke, and it is the third time I have returned to the starting point because I cannot follow simple instructions or turn the right corners to reach my destination.

“I am so foolish,” I berate myself, crouching against the station wall and burying my face in my hands. “I want to go home. I want to see my family. I do not want to be a human anymore.”

My smartphone rings in my handbag, and I answer the call begrudgingly. “This is Nami Fukuyama speaking.” My voice is dry and low.

“Nami-chan, where are you?” Shiokawa-san barks at the other end of the line.

Loud chatting and singing in the background catch my attention. “Are you at the karaoke?” I ask.

“Yes, and everyone is already here. Well, everyone but you. Where are you, anyway? Why are you so late?”

“I am at the train station and cannot find my way there,” I confess, lowering my head even more, pretending not to see the passersby staring at me.

“Really? But it’s so easy.” She sounds suspicious. “Are you sure you’re not making excuses not to come?”

I sigh deeply. “I wish it were the case, but it is not. I really cannot find my way there.”

I hear Shiokawa-san’s muffled words as she talks to whoever is near her. I cannot tell exactly what she is saying, but I understand that she is explaining that I am at the station.

“Shiokawa-san? I am going back to my apartment, if you do not mind,” I inform my classmate.

She ignores me and responds, “Just wait there.” She ends the call abruptly.

I look at the device in my hand and blink a couple of times, confused.

Rude much?

I ponder whether I should stay here or return to my apartment. After a minute of deliberation and feeling sorry that I have spent so much time getting ready for tonight, I decide to go with the former, rising to my feet and leaning against the wall, coming to terms with my fate.

“The sky is so beautiful,” I whisper to myself, smiling in awe at the stars twinkling faintly in the dark sky above me. I close my eyes and make a wish. “Please, help me go home to the castle soon because I greatly miss my family and the kingdom. Please, help me endure my journey here in Tokyo and accomplish the goals I am supposed to. Ah, and please, protect the angels from the demons’ attacks.”

The next thing I know, I am recalling special moments I shared with my brothers in the castle, smiling nostalgically and wiping away tears of loneliness.

“Fukuyama-san.” A male voice cuts through the cold air.

My eyelids flutter open, my mouth hanging open in surprise as I see the familiar handsome face right before me, his eyes boring into me and his lips twitching ever so slightly upward.

“Demon Boy?” I shake my head. “I mean… I mean… Ahn…”

What is his name again?

I panic at the realization that I do not remember his name, thanks to my habit of calling him Demon Boy.

The one and only tilts his head to the side, the smile he gives me next taking my breath away. “You don’t remember my name, do you?” He is right on point.

I look away from him, my cheeks blushing scarlet. “No, I do not,” I confess, embarrassed.

Much to my astonishment, he chuckles heartily, widening his already glorious smile. “Then, let me formally introduce myself to you… princess,” he says, the last word carrying a hint of mischief. “My name is Yusuke Hasegawa, and I am delighted to meet you.” He falls to one knee, takes my right hand, and kisses it, his soft lips touching it like a gentle breeze brushing against my skin.

I gasp, my eyes widening and my body tensing. Still, though I am taken aback, I suppress the urge to pull my hand from his grasp and stay still, my princessly manners overcoming my—what should I call it? Human emotions, perhaps? I even force a small smile, even as my heart nearly leaps out of my chest.

Once I am out of my stupor, I curtsy in return. “Nami Fukuyama. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

He gazes at me intensely for a brief moment before asking, “Will you grant me the honor of escorting you to the karaoke, my lady?”

Why is he addressing me as though he knows I am a real princess? Is he making fun of me, or is that his normal behavior toward girls? By the way, why is he here?

He tilts his head to the side again. “Have I said something wrong?”

I hesitate. “Where is Shiokawa-san?”

“She is at the karaoke with our other friends.” He extends his hand toward me. “Please, allow me to take you there.”

I glance at his outstretched palm and ignore it, strutting away without uttering a word. I hear Demon Boy chuckle as he comes after me, and as he walks by my side, his right shoulder touches my left one from time to time, sending shockwaves of electricity down my spine.

The tension between us is palpable. The realization that I am trusting a demon to take me to the karaoke, coupled with the awareness that the most handsome and popular student from Mori Senior High School is escorting me, and that it is the first time I am alone with a boy other than my brothers and angel teachers, makes me feel numb and bashful.

To distract myself from Demon Boy’s closeness, I focus on the sound of my boots on the concrete sidewalk, ignoring the people coming and going around me.

Out of nowhere, a drunken man lurches toward me and exclaims, “What a beautiful lady. You’re a vision. I want you to be my wife.” His red face is almost touching mine, the smell of alcohol on his breath making me sick.

I flinch, disgusted and scared.

In one quick movement, Demon Boy pushes the man away and steps in front of me, his tall frame towering over me and protecting me from danger. “Don’t you dare lay a finger on her or talk to her,” he warns through gritted teeth.

“What are you? Her boyfriend?” the drunken man sneers.

Demon Boy stays silent.

After a minute or two, the drunken man raises his hands in defeat and stumbles away from us, but not before winking at me and blowing me a kiss.

Ew.

Demon Boy brings his attention back to me. “Are you all right?” He looks and sounds quite concerned.

I nod, though my trembling body gives away the fear I am feeling.

Humans are scary.

He entwines our fingers nonchalantly, without asking my permission, and resumes leading me to our destination. It all happens so fast that I simply cannot—or do not wish to—refuse his gesture.

Is it weird that a small part of me is actually enjoying his proximity? Is it unacceptable that I am ready to admit that I am physically and even emotionally attracted to him despite not knowing his personality? Does it make me a terrible angel that I do not want this moment with the demon to come to an end?

“It’s too cold tonight,” complains Demon Boy as a cold gust of wind spreads strands of his silky, shining hair across his face.

I gawk at him, mesmerized by his boyish charm.

He runs his free hand through his hair in a vain attempt to fix it, then shakes a fist in the air. “Damn you, cold. I hate you. I hate you.”

As he curses the invisible enemy, I inspect his outfit—a black shirt, a red puffer jacket, dark jeans, and dark tennis shoes. I also notice the golden necklace with a red gem around his neck.

“Where are you, summer? I need you. I want you. Please, come find me and save me from this torturous cold spring,” he continues ranting, still shaking a fist in the air.

He does not like cold weather, does he? Well, on top of him being a demon and me being an angel, that is another significant difference between us, as I absolutely love cold weather and despise hot weather.

After my unpleasant encounter with the drunken man, I do my best to pay attention to the humans near us—only then do I realize that every woman who lays her eyes upon the boy next to me begins blushing, smiling, and giggling, some of them even going as far as ogling him without a hint of shame, and glaring daggers at me as though wishing me a slow and painful death.

Speaking of slow and painful death, I wonder if Demon Boy’s ex-whatever-the-title-was is at the karaoke—I really hope she is not, because it is evident that she regards me as a threat and feels the need to make me disappear somehow.

I glance at Demon Boy, who looks lost in thought and oblivious to the women around us blatantly swooning over him. I recall the shadow of the demon form I saw on his human one when we first met, acknowledging that he is gorgeous both ways. In fact, I find him even more handsome with his light red eyes, dark red hair, and dark brown horns.

I cover my mouth, flabbergasted at myself. 

What am I thinking? I cannot and shall not find a demon attractive. Father and Mother would be disappointed in me if I did.

“We’re here,” Demon Boy announces, gesturing at the massive building in front of us. “Our friends are waiting for us inside.”

Our friends?

He says something to the two clerks in the lobby and guides me to the stairs without letting go of my hand, tightening his grip instead. Yet again, I feel no need to object or pull away, as I am quite pleased that he holds on so firmly.

What is this tingling sensation running throughout my body? Why do I feel like smiling and giggling for no reason?

On the second floor, we stop before a door where muffled sounds of someone singing terribly out of tune, animated chatter, and laughter greet us. Demon Boy shoots me a look I cannot decipher before smiling and nodding, probably reassuring me that everything will be okay. As he holds the knob, I reach out and curl my fingers around the fabric of his puffer jacket.

“What is it?” he asks, his mouth hanging open slightly in surprise.

I take a deep breath and thank him sheepishly. “Thank you for escorting me and protecting me from the disgusting drunken human.”

He arches an eyebrow. “Drunken human? What a peculiar way to refer to the man.”

I avert my eyes from him immediately, silently scolding myself for being so careless with my words.

Demon Boy holds my chin and tilts it up, his gaze boring into mine. “You’re welcome.”

I gasp, my face and ears almost combusting. To my relief, he opens the door and leads me into a big room where about ten humans—I mean, schoolmates—are having the time of their lives.

* * *