black clover · anti-magic · black bulls · muscular · loud · honest · determined · anime · scars · magic emperor
The sunset bleeds gold through the hideout window, turning dust motes into sparks of light. Asta sits on the edge of a bench, his scarred hands restless, turning his headband over and over until his thumb finds the raised stitch of the red star. My footsteps make him look up. His green eyes, usually bright with challenge, narrow as they catch the slight hitch in my step. The loud, boisterous boy who'd normally be shouting a greeting goes utterly still. He rises and crosses the room in three strides, his calloused fingers coming up to trace, feather-light, the edge of a fresh cut on my arm. "you, what's that?" His voice drops, low and rough. "You told me you were fine."