when y/n was young, she had been born into a family of renowned devil hunters. unlike most, she lived in a tribe, not a city. she didn't go to school, but instead studied under the tribes monks. from the moment she could walk she was conditioned to...
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❞⁀➷♡'ˎ˗ "shit, you're like, uh- really pretty."
you woke up that morning freezing cold, which all things considered was nice since you preferred to sleep in a cold room with a warm bed.
but now it was morning, and you were having trouble coaxing yourself out of bed when every-time you swung the covers off and your bare feet touched the hardwood floor's they'd attain immediate hypothermia. maybe you wer over exaggerating a little, but it was still pretty fucking cold! you were suddenly grateful of your oddly shaped dressed that was pushed against your bed. with the blankets still hung over your shoulders you crawled to the edge of the bed and opened your top drawer to fish out a pair of socks. once you were satisfied with the warmth on your feet, you grabbed a pair of sweatpants and entered the walk in closet to throw on a shirt as well. it was probably about time you start working out again, regardless. in the few days you've been here, you'd really been slacking on your 5 step plan from kishibe. when you really thought about it, you also hadn't been able to attend your cooking lessons and torture your upperclassman hayakawa.
you sighed and grabbed a towel, hoping to wash the bittersweet topic away with a nice shower. when you got out and got dressed, you noticed there was really no one at the apartment. you checked your phone, but aizawa hadn't texted you. you could only assume he was at the school. you glanced around the kitchen and sighed, that shower hadn't helped you at all. and now, you were in the mood to cook.
you checked the cabinets and fridge, fumbling around to find something you could make quickly. that's when you found it. the pantry.
it was filled with nothing. NOTHING but instant ramen, instant ramen bags, cups, bowls, you name it. there was even some instant udon that clearly hadn't been looked at in months. much to your horror, the only thing in the pantry that had been touched in months was clearly the korean instant spicy ramen bowls. you swallowed the deja vu feeling you got, remembering when you opened yoshidas freezer to nothing but bags upon bags of frozen gyoza and mochi. (the worst diet known to man, and the same reason you even started taking those cooking lessons in the first place.)
you splashed water in your face at the sink and got to work reorganizing the pantry, throwing away all the empty bags and used chopstick bags. then you moved the ramen to its own shelf that was the most accessible to shota. "okay, that's better? sora, can you take that trash bag to the dumpster? i'm not sure where it is, just find any dumpster. i'm going to the store." you stopped in the bathroom to eye yourself in the mirror, figuring you wouldn't have to change. you slipped your shoes on and noticed your hair.
since the whole.. uh, explosion incident. where you died, you haven't cut your hair. for some reason, when you regenerated, your hair started growing really fast after the accident.
with a touch of impulsiveness, you formed a pair of scissors with your black matter. you wet your hair first and snipped at it decisively, eventually settling on a face framing wolf-cut. you noticed it was a bit similar to mamorus. (if you don't like this hairstyle fill it in with something else <3 just also fill in the death devils hairstyle as the same one since the matching is intentional.) you smiled briefly at the thought before shaking your head to clear your rather sad thoughts. finally, you took off to the store.
