Yakusoku (Avara Stadium Book 1)

Demon Child

She'd moved past fear. She didn't have any room left for the fucking fear in her fucking heart anymore. Demons didn't even have fear.

They wanted to call her Demon Child? Sure. She'd fucking well take it.

Matsumoto was bailing. The winner wasn't going to sign with the agent. So what happened? Total fucking chaos, that was what happened. And demons thrived in chaos.

She stormed into her bedroom and grabbed the bag out of her closet, full of parts. Gaman's parts, the poor little robot who'd been aborted before he ever had a chance.

She was going to pitch to the fucking agent. Why not?

She wasn't going to use Himawari's work studio. There was blood in that place. She'd meant to throw away the key, but she'd forgotten to, frankly. Didn't matter. She'd rent some shitty workroom somewhere. The shittier, the better. If there were rats in it, well, that was the right place for a Demon Child.

She stormed out, still half-drunk, her head pounding, her clothes messy and smelling like vomit, just faintly. She checked a map on her phone, found the cheapest workroom she could rent, and made the reservation on her phone before she got there so she didn't have to talk to anyone, just marched in and flashed her QR code and opened the door.

The room was a mess, and it stank. This was perfect.

She sat down and shoved all the shit off the table onto the floor, a big clatter like a train had fallen over, and dumped all Gaman's parts out onto the table surface.

Pitching with a robot that had never once been used, had only been made the night before. She could well have laughed. Pitching to Tess? Her face burned thinking about it.

Good. Shame was a powerful emotion. She'd embrace it, if only to feel something right now.

She worked four hours putting Gaman together, collapsing on the table next to it the moment it was done and falling asleep for another hour. It was morning already, and the sunlight made her head pound, even coming in through a thick marbled glass window.

She woke up from her crash feeling more tired than when she'd fallen asleep, finding herself face-to-face with the small form of Gaman. It looked ugly, more like a decked-out soda can than a robot.

That was good. It matched her. Ugly and shitty, but it was fucking powerful. Natsumi had taught her well.

She offered a prayer for her dead predecessor. She loved Natsumi. She did love her. And this was the only way to honor her.

She texted Tess. "I'm pitching to you."

She stood up, put Gaman back in the plastic bag, and made her way out the door and down the stairs back to the street. It bustled with morning life, people out enjoying the morning sunlight, and Akiko felt like a dark cloud moving through them all.

Her phone buzzed maybe fifteen minutes later. Sure enough, it was a reply from Tess.

"Are you okay??"

"I'm fine," Akiko replied. "Would I be pitching if I weren't?"

"There's no way I can sign someone who no-showed."

Akiko grinned at her phone while she walked. She'd been waiting to hear that. Finally, having to hear it was behind her.

"You have an open pitching window now, don't you? Matsumoto left."

"I can't sign you."

God damn that was painful to read. She read it again and again, enjoying how much it hurt. She got on the train.