Amami awoke to the sound of clattering pans and shouts to wake up. She yawned and glanced around her room, which was rather at odds with her professed vocation. Painted a, to her, soothing forest green, and with a few posters of the latest pop idols scattered about, on the exterior it was nothing special. In her drawers were normal girls clothes, and even high school uniforms hung in her closet, nothing to write home about. However, if you spent some time examining it, you'd notice something...off. Namely each of those uniforms hung with a pistol belt, and each of those drawers contained a pair of pistols, magazines stowed next to them.

As her tired mind finished registering her surroundings, she walked over to her drawers and got dressed, nothing more than a simple blouse and skirt. Again, nothing to write home about, just a normal set of clothes. Though, again, she had to ruin this facade of normalcy by fastening the pistol belt to roughly where her belt would go if she were wearing real pants. Into these holsters slid the reliable .45 pistols that were her personal favorites of her collection. Highly customized, and gleaming for some reason, and with her name engraved on the slides, they were the fanciest pistols she owned. With a grouping of clips sliding into their places on the belt, she turned and walked from her room and down to meet with the others.

Walking in, she announced "Shuu-chan, you woke me up! How dare you!" She rolled her eyes and giggled, and then noticed the demon sitting in a black chair that, at least normally, was not in their kitchen. She rolled her eyes and said "Bella, why are you sitting in the middle of the kitchen? You'll get in Shuu-chan's way." With that, Amami leaned herself on the kitchen walls and drew a pistol, casually twirling it around her finger. Of course, all those other shooters insisted that such things were unsafe, and that it would one day kill people. But nothing bad had ever happened to Amami, so it couldn't be too bad, right?