Is it Wrong for a Sword to Remain
Sheathed Against Injustice?
Story Starts
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Chapter 6.2
The Gale’s Justice
Demands a Stakeout
Ryuu Lion found herself standing with her arms extended to either side, a measuring tape wrapped around her chest, whilst chaos erupted around her.
"What's the point of you having those funbags if you're not going to use them!"
Aphrodite, goddess of love and apparently uninvited guest, had barged into Athena's shop halfway through their fitting session. She now lay sprawled across one of the velvet couches, a wine glass dangling from her fingers as she gestured at the ceiling.
Her child—a stoic beauty with porcelain features so perfect she seemed almost sculpted—wordlessly refilled her goddess's glass. Galatea's expression betrayed nothing, though Ryuu suspected years of practice lay behind that composure.
"Hestia sits up there in Tenkai with those ridiculous breasts and refuses to descend! Artemis gallivants through forests pretending men don't exist! And you—" Aphrodite jabbed a finger towards Athena without looking, "—you waste your divine form on books and strategy. It's criminal. An absolute travesty against love itself."
Athena ignored her entirely.
"Arachne dear, what do you think?" The goddess of wisdom sat with her legs crossed on the adjacent couch, composed despite the tirade happening two medr to her left. "I believe the brown would suit Astraea here, whilst the dark green and dark purple would complement her children's aesthetics rather nicely."
Beside Athena, Astraea maintained equally regal posture, her own legs crossed, a glass of wine held with practised grace. She nodded thoughtfully at the suggestion.
Ryuu glanced sideways at Kaguya, who had just accepted a refill from Galatea's seemingly bottomless bottle. Her vice-captain raised the glass in a small salute before taking a generous sip.
Ryuu alone remained without a drink. Her hands stayed extended as Arachne—Athena's child, dark-haired and sharp-eyed—worked the measuring tape around her waist with brisk efficiency.
"I think," Arachne said, her tone flat, "that if you want them to be inconspicuous, they shouldn't be wearing this trench coat and fedora combination Goddess Athena designed for me to make."
"But it's tradition!"
The three goddesses spoke in perfect unison—even Aphrodite, who had paused mid-complaint to voice her agreement. Their hands waved dismissively, as though batting away smoke.
Ryuu heard the sigh from behind her. Felt it, really, in the slight tension of the measuring tape.
"You may lower your arms," Arachne said. "The two of you can sit with your goddess whilst I adjust the garments. It won't take long."
Ryuu watched Arachne retreat towards the back of the shop, her movements precise and unhurried. The establishment itself was a curious hybrid—bolts of fabric occupied one wall whilst towering bookshelves dominated another, the two domains separated by nothing more than a worn carpet runner. Spools of thread sat beside stacks of philosophical treatises. A half-finished hem draped over a volume of poetry.
She followed Kaguya to the empty couch facing the other three. The seating arrangement formed a depressed triangle in the shop's centre, velvet furniture arranged for conversation—or, apparently, for enduring divine complaints about celestial celibacy.
Kaguya scooped up a wine bottle from the floor, holding it by the neck, and poured herself another generous measure as she settled into the cushions.
"And Freya!" Aphrodite flung her free hand upward. "Don't get me started on Freya. She descends, finds herself a city full of beautiful mortals, and what does she do? Hoards them! Locks them up in that tower of hers like vintage wine she refuses to share!" She drained her glass in one swallow. "At least have the decency to let the rest of us enjoy the bouquet!"
"The narrative structure in the third act felt somewhat contrived," Athena said to Astraea, ignoring Aphrodite with what Ryuu could only describe as divine-grade indifference. "The protagonist's revelation about his father's betrayal arrived too conveniently."
"I found it thematically consistent with the earlier foreshadowing," Astraea replied, swirling her wine. "The author planted the seeds in chapter four, if you recall the conversation about inherited sin."
"The waste," Aphrodite moaned to no one in particular. "The absolute criminal waste of divine assets."
Galatea refilled the glass. Her hand hadn't even trembled. Ryuu was beginning to suspect the woman could pour wine during an earthquake without spilling a drop.
Kaguya leaned forward, inserting herself into the literary discussion. "What book is this? I've been looking for something new."
"The Midnight Confession," Astraea said, her eyes brightening. "It's a detective story with romantic elements. The protagonist is a former knight investigating corruption in his home territory."
"Ooh." Kaguya's interest seemed genuine. "Does it have—"
"Betrayal, moral ambiguity, and a subplot involving star-crossed lovers," Athena supplied. "Astraea insisted I read it."
Ryuu's mind wandered.
The couch was comfortable. Too comfortable, perhaps, for the turmoil churning beneath her ribs. She stared at a point somewhere between her goddess and Aphrodite's sprawled form, seeing neither.
Just before they'd arrived at Athena's shop—
Her goddess and vice-captain had burst into her room whilst she was changing. She'd barely had the towel secured around herself when hands seized her arms and bodily dragged her towards the door.
She'd made it halfway down the stairs—in full view of the windows—before managing to scream that she was naked.
Astraea and Kaguya had frozen. Looked down. Looked at each other.
"Ah," her goddess had said.
"Ah," Kaguya had echoed.
They'd hauled her back up with considerably more urgency than they'd hauled her down.
Ryuu's ears burned at the memory. The rustling of curtains from the neighbour's house. The brief glimpse of movement in the window across the gap.
'Please let that not have been Emiya.'
But her luck had never been particularly good, had it? He'd already witnessed their choreographed oath declaration. Already seen eleven grown women striking theatrical poses and shouting about justice and comets. What was one more humiliation added to the pile?
"—and a stakeout requires proper preparation," Astraea was saying, her voice carrying the enthusiasm of someone three glasses deep into excellent wine. "You can't simply follow someone. There's an art to it."
"Goddess," Kaguya said, refilling her own glass, "where exactly did you learn about stakeouts?"
"It's divine knowledge."
"Yes."
Ryuu had long since stopped trying to understand the gods' and goddesses' eccentric, seemingly random knowledge. Elevators, fashion, cuisine—concepts from no identifiable tradition would simply appear in divine conversation, delivered with absolute certainty and zero explanation. Their children learnt to nod and move on.
"The principles remain sound regardless of medium," Astraea added, as though that settled the matter.
Ryuu should have been paying attention. Should have been participating. Instead, her thoughts kept circling back to her room, to the moment after they'd dragged her back inside and she'd managed to put on actual clothing.
Astraea had sat her down on the bed. Kaguya had vanished through the door, only to reappear moments later with two glasses and a bottle of wine. She'd handed one glass to Astraea, then poured it nearly to the brim—ninety percent full, threatening to spill with every movement. Kaguya's own glass received a considerably more modest pour, which she had immediately rectified by topping it up to match their goddess'.
Iska and Celty had peeked through the doorway. Ryuu had met their eyes, her own confusion reflected back at her. They'd retreated without a word.
'Somehow, I feel betrayed.'
Then Kaguya had explained.
About Ryuu's prejudice against elves. About the disdain she held for her homeland, for the superiority complex woven into elven culture. Astraea had confirmed it, her voice gentle but certain.
Ryuu had wanted to deny it. The words had risen to her tongue, sharp and defensive.
But she couldn't.
Because it was true, wasn't it? She'd rejected the Ryumilua Forest and everything it represented. Rejected the hierarchy, the arrogance, the assumption that elven blood carried inherent worth above all others.
And Emiya—
Emiya projected something that drew elves towards him. An essence, Celty had said. Like carrying the spirit of homeland forests within his soul. A sense of ancient trees and silver blossoms.
A sense of home.
Ryuu's hands clenched in her lap.
No wonder she'd reacted so strongly. No wonder every fibre of her being had screamed wrong whenever he was near. It wasn't suspicion born of logic. It wasn't the trained wariness of an adventurer assessing threats.
It was her own hatred, reflected back at her through borrowed light.
"—the fedora is essential," Athena was saying when Ryuu's attention drifted back to the conversation. "It frames the face whilst obscuring identifying features. The trench coat provides both concealment for weapons and an appropriately mysterious silhouette."
"It's also terribly fashionable," Astraea added. "In a dignified sort of way."
"Dignified," Aphrodite scoffed. "You wouldn't know fashion if it danced naked through your Familia headquarters."
"That seems rather counterproductive to the concept of fashion," Athena observed.
"You see? This is what I'm dealing with." Aphrodite gestured at Athena with her glass, sloshing wine onto the velvet. Galatea produced a cloth from nowhere and dabbed at the stain without changing expression. "Do you know how many gods have descended to this city? Dozens! And how many of them are in proper romantic relationships?" She held up one hand, fingers spread. "I can count them on this! With fingers to spare!"
"Perhaps they're simply focused on their divine responsibilities," Astraea offered.
"Responsibilities!" Aphrodite said the word as though it had personally offended her. "Is love not a responsibility? Is passion not a sacred duty?"
"Evidently not sacred enough to prevent you from interrupting a fitting appointment," Arachne called from the back room.
Aphrodite clutched her chest. "My own niece wounds me."
"I'm not your niece."
"In spirit!"
"And we didn't exactly had an appointment," their Goddess unhelpfully supplied.
"Like I said, in spirit!"
Ryuu's thoughts continued their spiral.
'Maybe the problem isn't him at all.'
'Maybe it's me.'
She'd known the answer since Kaguya had laid it out in her room. Known it with the sick certainty of someone who'd just been shown the rot behind a wall they'd thought was solid. But knowing and accepting were different things.
Emiya had saved her life in Rivira. His arrow had deflected Vito's killing blow when she'd stumbled, when her own mistake had left her open to a strike she couldn't have blocked. He'd asked for nothing in return. Hadn't even acknowledged it directly.
He cooked meals for adventurers in the Dungeon. Distributed potions at fair prices—well, maybe not so fair prices, pricing does get exponential the lower you go in the dungeon. Anyway, fed orphans and helped rebuild damaged buildings without expectation of reward.
And yet she couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong with him.
But she knew now where that feeling came from. Not from him. From her. From the part of her that had cut away her homeland so thoroughly that even the echo of it in a stranger's presence made her flinch.
"Ryuu."
She blinked. Kaguya was watching her, glass raised, something knowing in her expression.
"You're brooding."
"I'm thinking."
"Same thing, coming from you." Kaguya took a sip. "Relax. That's what today's about."
"Tonight is about following Emiya without his knowledge."
"Tonight is about confirming he's not a threat so you can stop looking at him like he's about to murder everyone in the room." Kaguya's smile held an edge. "And also about relaxing. The two aren't mutually exclusive."
Astraea turned towards them, her indigo eyes bright with wine and anticipation. "It'll be fun! We'll observe from a distance, gather information, and confirm that Emiya is simply an eccentric adventurer with unusual abilities and a talent for cooking."
"And if he is a threat?" Ryuu asked.
"Then we'll know," Astraea said simply. "And we'll act accordingly. But I don't believe he is. I've watched him, Ryuu. Spoken with him. Whatever burdens he carries, malice isn't among them."
Ryuu opened her mouth to respond—
"Star-crossed lovers!" Aphrodite sat bolt upright, wine sloshing dangerously, her finger jabbing toward Athena and Astraea. She'd apparently been half-listening to the book discussion after all. "See? Even fictional characters manage more romance than the lot of you! A mortal who writes stories understands love better than three goddesses sitting in the same room!" Her eyes sharpened. "And are you talking about that red-headed noodle merchant? His noodles are quite divine—and he does look rather scrumptious."
"The romance in The Midnight Confession is actually rather tragic—" Astraea began, though she looked unusually irritated at Aphrodite's comment. "And don't you use your charm on unsuspecting mortals."
"At least it exists!" Aphrodite shot back. "Relax. He did seem to have quite the mental fortitude to ignore my charm."
Astraea's expression eased—then her eyes narrowed. "So that means you used your charm on him."
"The point is—"
"Don't change the subject, Aphrodite."
"The point is that you're all wasting yourselves!" Aphrodite barrelled past Astraea's glare without a shred of remorse. "You, sitting here playing dress-up with children. Artemis, off hunting things that could just as easily be hunted by mortals. Astraea, presiding over justice like some sort of—of—"
"Goddess of justice?" Kaguya supplied helpfully.
"Exactly!" Aphrodite drained her glass in one swallow. "It's enough to drive a goddess to drink."
"You were drinking before you arrived," Athena pointed out.
"I was drinking in anticipation of needing to drink more."
Galatea produced another bottle from somewhere. Her hands moved with the same unhurried elegance they always did. Ryuu was now fairly certain the woman could serve wine during a Goliath spawn and not spill a drop.
The back room's curtain rustled.
Arachne emerged, flanked by two Familia members who shared her dark hair and sharp features. Between them, they carried a mannequin dressed in the most peculiar ensemble Ryuu had ever seen.
The coat hung to shin length, constructed of heavy fabric in deep forest green. Its cut was structured but flowing, with wide lapels and a belt cinched at the waist. The material looked sturdy enough to withstand weather and wear, yet moved with surprising fluidity as they positioned the mannequin in the centre of the seating triangle.
Perched atop the mannequin's head sat a wide-brimmed hat—again in green, with a band of darker fabric circling its crown. The brim cast a shadow that would obscure the wearer's features from above whilst allowing clear sightlines forward.
Ryuu had never seen anything quite like it.
"The trench coat and fedora," Arachne announced flatly. "Made to your specifications, Goddess Athena. The stitching has been reinforced at the shoulders and hem for durability. The interior pockets can accommodate standard weaponry without disrupting the silhouette."
"We also made the three additional sets in the colours you requested," one of her Familia members added. "Green, purple, and brown."
Athena clapped her hands together, her composure cracking into genuine delight. "Excellent! Wonderful work, Arachne!" She rose from her couch, wine glass still in hand, and held up a finger. "But such clothing isn't complete without the final touch—"
She strode towards the far end of the shop, navigating between fabric bolts and book stacks with the ease of long familiarity, and disappeared behind a towering shelf.
A moment later, she returned carrying a wooden box, its surface worn smooth by age and handling.
Athena positioned herself before the mannequin, holding the box with theatrical gravity. Aphrodite actually sat up. Astraea leaned forward. Even Kaguya lowered her wine glass.
"Every great investigator requires the proper accessories," Athena intoned, her fingers resting on the lid.
The goddess of wisdom lifted it open.
Ryuu craned her neck, trying to see the contents from her position on the couch—
Inside, nestled in velvet, lay—
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"—and I'm telling you, the market on the east side had better prices," Alise said, adjusting the shopping bags hanging from both arms. "The vendor tried to charge me double for dried fish! Double! I gave him the look."
"You gave him the 'He-hem' look," Lyra said, walking beside her with considerably fewer bags and considerably more dignity. The prum's pink hair caught the late afternoon light as she navigated the crowd at chest height to most of the people around her. "That's not negotiation. That's intimidation."
"It worked, didn't it?"
"Everything works when you're Level 3 and visibly armed."
Alise opened her mouth to argue, then closed it. "Fair point."
They turned the corner onto the avenue that connected the market district to the artisan quarter—a stretch of shopfronts that catered to everything from armour repair to bookbinding. The foot traffic was lighter here, the cobblestones cleaner, the buildings a touch more respectable than the market stalls they'd left behind.
Alise was mid-sentence about a spice vendor who apparently reminded her of someone's uncle when Lyra's hand shot out and seized her wrist.
"Ow! Lyra, what—"
"Shut up." Lyra's voice dropped to a hiss. "Look."
Alise looked.
Across the avenue, three figures had just emerged from a shop Alise vaguely recognised as belonging to Athena's Familia. The door swung shut behind them, a small bell chiming overhead.
The first figure wore a long coat in deep brown that fell nearly to her ankles, cinched at the waist with a belt. A wide-brimmed hat sat atop her head, casting her face in shadow. On her hands—despite the mild afternoon—she wore fitted gloves. And across her eyes, obscuring them entirely, sat a pair of... Alise squinted. They looked like spectacle frames, the kind old scholars wore for reading—but instead of clear lenses, these were dark. Completely dark. Opaque, as though someone had fitted smoked glass into the frames.
'What's the point of spectacles you can't see through?'
Behind the first figure came two more, dressed identically except in colour—one in forest green, one in dark purple. Same coats. Same hats. Same gloves. Same dark spectacles that served no apparent corrective purpose.
All three walked in single file. The one in brown led with a purposeful stride. The one in green followed with rigid posture and visible reluctance. The one in purple brought up the rear, and even at this distance, Alise could tell she was holding a wine glass.
Alise's mouth fell open.
She knew that stride. She knew that rigid posture. She definitely knew the wine glass.
"Is that—"
Lyra's hand clamped over her mouth. The prum's grip was small but iron-firm, and Alise's attempt to call out died against her palm.
"Don't." Lyra's eyes hadn't left the three figures. Her expression cycled through confusion, calculation, and the particular brand of exhaustion their Familia reserved for moments when their goddess did something inexplicable.
Astraea was, by all accounts, the picture of divine composure. Regal. Measured. The sort of goddess other deities pointed to when they wanted an example of how to conduct oneself in the lower world.
But she had her moments.
The Familia mostly blamed Loki for this. Prolonged exposure to the trickster goddess had, over the years, introduced hairline cracks in Astraea's dignity that surfaced at the worst possible times. Like now. Like whatever this was.
Somewhere on the opposite side of Orario, a flat-chested goddess sneezed violently—Loss of bodily control sent the bottle of wine she'd been carefully decanting into a glass—wine she had painstakingly pilfered from her meeting with Dionysus, smuggled out under her clothes, and carried home cradled against her chest like a firstborn child—cascading across her office floor.
Loki stared at the spreading stain. The stain stared back.
"LOLI BIG-BOOBS!" she shrieked at the ceiling, because when things went wrong there was only ever one suspect. She sneezed again, which did nothing to improve the situation.
Meanwhile, the trio turned the corner at the end of the avenue and disappeared from view. The one in green—Alise was now absolutely certain it was Ryuu—walked as though she were being marched toward her own execution. The one in brown—their Goddess—had quickened her pace with visible enthusiasm. The one in purple had produced a wine glass from somewhere inside her coat, which raised questions about the interior pockets that Alise wasn't sure she wanted answered.
Lyra released Alise's mouth.
"That was—" Alise began.
"Yes."
"Wearing—"
"Yes."
"Why are they—"
"I don't know." Lyra stared at the now-empty corner, her shopping bags hanging forgotten at her sides. Her eyes narrowed. "But we're going to find out."
Far above, in the divine realm of Tenkai, a certain generously endowed goddess had been sneezing for the better part of an hour as she tended to her hearth. The fits came in clusters—violent, unprovoked, and deeply irritating.
"Flat-chest and No-chest," she muttered darkly between sneezes, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. It was always them. Always. Every unexplained sneeze, every sudden chill, every ruined batch of divine cooking—it always traced back to those two washboard menaces and their relentless fixation on her figure.
She sneezed again.
"I HAVEN'T EVEN DESCENDED YET!" she shouted at no one in particular.
And so the circle closed—three goddesses spread across two realms, bound together by an invisible chain of allergic misery that each one blamed entirely on the others. Aphrodite talked about Hestia. Loki blamed Hestia. Hestia blamed Loki and Aphrodite. None of them were technically wrong. None of them would ever know they were all sneezing at the same time.
The mortals, wisely, stayed out of it.
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End
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