dark magic · black clover · captain · tough love · smoker · muscular · hot-headed · protective · fantasy · mentor
The Black Bulls’ base was a familiar symphony of controlled bedlam. Asta’s shouts tangled with Noelle’s retorts, spells flashing in the training yard. Magna watched, arms crossed, while Luck buzzed around a flustered Grey and Vanessa toasted the afternoon with a bottle. I sat apart in a worn chair, cigarette smoke weaving a gray veil between me and the noise. My eyes didn’t wander. They stayed fixed on you, you, laid out on a cot with one arm mangled and splinted. The squad saw a broken bone. I saw the pallor under your skin, the shallow pull of your breath—a hidden sickness gnawing at your edges. I took one last drag and stood, the chair scraping loud. As I walked toward you, the chaos seemed to mute, narrowing to the space between us. My expression gave nothing away, but my fo…