As the previous day came to a close, Lady Meril had delivered her and Sona each – along with their peerages - to a luxurious suite in a palatial hotel at the heart of New Lilith. But not just the two of them. The entire building currently housed the dozens of peerages of the young Kings who would be partaking in the tourney.
After a full night’s rest, she stood upon the broad marble balcony and a cool morning breeze stirred loose strands of crimson hair from her shoulders. Below, an ocean of Devils stretched as far as her eyes could see, millions upon millions gathered in anticipation and festivities.
From beside her, Issei let out a quiet mutter of, “Unholy crap…”
She silently agreed with her Pawn’s sentiment. Because even though she was no stranger to large crowds and long parades back in the Gremory dukedom, the sheer scale of people gathered along the streets of the Empire’s capital was staggering. She looked to her left and right, and both adjacent balconies contained other Kings and their peerages. In fact, that was true for every room. All of the entries for the tournament were standing alert, many of them trying to look imposing and dignified as magical drones captured their images and broadcast them to various screens throughout the entire Empire.
But she did her best to pay them no mind and instead willed her mind through her own magic, and like her grandmother had taught her, Rias reached out with numerous tendrils of psychic energy. She took note of all the other peerages and who was standing where, which signatures held the greatest power or, just as importantly, were the best hidden from her magical senses.
Between Lord Ichigo’s harsh lesson of preemptively taking account of a battlefield and her grandmother’s distinct brutality, Rias made sure to commit as much to memory as possible and discern all that she could when presented with the opportunity to scope out her competition.
But then, her attention was abruptly shaken when an immense tide of demonic power washed across the capital from the colossal citadel that dominated the city skyline. She recognized the aura instantly - it was her older brother. And, as impressive as ever, his sheer presence was so vast that it blanketed everything her senses could reach, yet his mastery over his own power was so exquisite that not so much as a blade of grass bent beneath its weight.
And before Rias could dwell on the remarkable display of control a second longer, a movement high above drew her gaze upward, where suddenly the enormous projections of the five Crown Princes slowly materialized, each towering over the city like titans.
The budding sorceress in her wondered if her brother and his compatriots were using some sort of large-scale illusion magic? Or, perhaps, they were directly projecting the images into the minds of the masses?
However, as the immense projections of the five Crown Princes settled over New Lilith, the city erupted into deafening applause, and within moments millions of voices merged into a single thunderous chant of, "Hail!" while fists were thrust proudly toward the Overlords. Rias found herself smiling despite the overwhelming spectacle when, from the corner of her eye, she noticed Koneko quietly raising her own fist and dutifully mimicking the rhythm of the crowd without the slightest change in her expression.
Her brother stepped forward, his booming voice carrying effortlessly across the capital, “My noble children, it brings me such pleasure to bring this momentous day to you all!”
And the answering crowds roared with thunder.
“Long have our houses been divided, long have the dissidents sought to bring our people to the front lines of a futile war that would only promise our obliteration!”
A chorus of boos and jeers followed, and Sirzechs only smiled wider.
“Yet rejoice! By the efforts of my brother, the mighty Wrath in all your hearts, we have achieved a crushing victory! House Leviathan of the Old Lords has unanimously surrendered and sworn allegiance to our Empire!”
The roar that answered her brother was so impossibly loud that Rias felt it reverberate through her bones, while beneath her feet the palace itself trembled from the unrestrained jubilation of millions of frenzied Devils.
The projection shifted, revealing a beautiful woman with long chestnut hair whose natural elegance had been buried beneath an unmistakable air of defeat and melancholy. Behind her, every member of House Leviathan stood with bowed heads, their sea serpent banner lowered beneath the towering standard of the Devil Empire.
“I, Katerea Leviathan, and all of House Leviathan, deeply regret the suffering we have brought upon our people. From this day onward, we shall faithfully serve beneath the Satans and dedicate ourselves to building a stronger and more prosperous future for the Devil Race.”
Rias had to hold back her flinch as the legions of Devils booed and yelled at the sky angrily, many of them chanting obscenities and hateful jeers. Not that she blamed them – Rias herself had no love for any members of the Old Satan Faction. Or anyone who challenged the Crown Princes, really. And no! It wasn’t just the lifelong propaganda talking! They were genuinely unnecessary and destabilizing elements of society.
However, from beside her, Issei looked up excitedly. “Yo! Her oppai are huge!”
“Issei!” Kiba immediately hissed. “We’re on camera!”
“Oh, whoops! My bad.”
And Rias strained her dignity to not let out a sigh, but at the same time, she couldn’t stop a tug of fondness in her heart. No matter the circumstance, the Pawn’s perverseness never failed to rear its head. It was almost admirable how consistent her Issei was.
Nevertheless, Rias couldn’t help but note that Katerea Leviathan’s words seemed forced, almost unwilling. She recalled her brother had said that the surrender had come to pass due to Lord Ichigo’s efforts…
She withheld a shudder. She had seen enough of the Demon Lord’s dread power to know that whatever ‘negotiations’ had taken place between their Empire and House Leviathan, they would have been far from pleasant and cordial.
"Today marks a triumph worthy of remembrance!" her brother proclaimed, his voice rolling across the sky like distant thunder. "One of the founding Houses of our people has returned to the embrace of the Empire, and with their return, Devilkind stands stronger than ever!"
He paused only long enough for the cheers below to swell before continuing.
"Yet our work is not finished. Though one banner has been restored to our cause, others still cling to the delusion of rebellion. The remaining Old Lords will be hunted down and defeated! And only then will the dying embers of the old ways finally go out!”
Her brother’s eyes flashed crimson and the entire sky went dark, consumed in his gaze as the light pouring from him became mesmerizing and his voice dipped low and grave.
"The attempt of rebellion has left our Empire scarred and deformed! It has stolen lives, broken families, and depleted our treasures! But I assure you, our resolve has never been stronger!"
He raised both arms, blanketing the skyline in his grasp.
“Therefore, in order to ensure our security and continuing stability, the Devil Empire will be reorganized into a more militant and bellicose society!" A smile crossed Sirzechs' face as the crowd erupted once more. "For a safe and secure Empire!"
The millions of Devils began cheering and Rias once again felt the ground beneath her quake and tremble. The roaring of the crowd had become so overwhelming that Akeno was forced to quickly cast a sound-dampening field around them – to which Rias would have thrown her a grateful smile. Would have but…
Issei pointed up incredulously. “That’s Revenge of the Sith! That’s totally Revenge of the Sith! The Devil just plagiarized Star Wars!”
Mortified, Rias buried her face in both hands and let out a long, suffering groan. “He's such a nerd.”
Akeno snorted beside her. “As if you have any room to talk with your entire personal vault of anime and manga figurines.”
“Akeno!” She cried, embarrassed, looking desperate to ensure that none of the cameras were on them.
Yes, Rias was a nerd, but she was a normal one! She had the decency and sense to keep her passions confined to her bedroom. She didn’t go posturing and nerding out in front of the literal entire Empire!
However, they all returned their attention to the projections in the sky as her brother continued saying, “To cultivate the next generation of Lords, and to remind all Devilkind that power remains the foundation upon which our civilization stands, the Empire's most promising young Kings shall contend before the eyes of all the worlds! Over the coming weeks, they shall struggle, triumph, and conquer - establishing through battle the hierarchy befitting our people and setting a bold example for every generation that follows!”
“Let the Rating Games begin!”
=======
Shalba Beelzebub's roar shook the chamber as he stared at the projection of Katerea Leviathan standing meekly beneath the banner of the Devil Empire. Crimson magic erupted wildly around him, his fury spilling into the room in violent waves.
“Has she gone completely insane?!” he bellowed. “She should have slit her own throat before ever kneeling to those usurpers! That worthless bitch actually surrendered!”
Beside him, Creuserey Asmodeus remained outwardly composed, though the hatred burning in his eyes was no less intense. A contemptuous sneer slowly crossed his face.
“A disgrace,” he said coldly. “To place her own miserable life above the honor of her bloodline... if that is truly House Leviathan's choice, then they deserve to be exterminated alongside the pretenders.”
Shalba roared again, and this time his magic exploded outward. The chamber lurched violently beneath the outburst as paintings crashed from the walls, while the guards stationed nearby exchanged uneasy glances but wisely remained silent.
“I've had enough of this farce!” he thundered. “Creuserey, gather our armies! We'll sweep through Malebolge and crush that miserable outpost! The human pretender's arrogance will cost the Satans everything and become the first step toward our restoration!”
Creuserey's smile sharpened.
“At last,” he murmured. “The time has come to bring this war to its proper conclusion.”
=======
Ajuka stood before the broad window in comfortable silence with hands folded behind his back, his gaze resting upon the endless plain of bluish grass stretching toward the horizon. To anyone else, he likely appeared to be quietly contemplating the scenery. But in truth, only the smallest fraction of his consciousness occupied the room. The overwhelming majority of his mind remained scattered across a dozen separate avatar projections, each diligently pursuing a different experiment, paracausal theorem, or magical construction. Compared to those endeavors, this particular body was practically idling.
But Ajuka was not idle… no, never that. Everything was always measured; every action had a desired reaction.
The door opened behind him, and Ajuka paid little mind to the heavy yet familiar footfalls over his family’s palace floors as they came to stand beside him.
Agerforth Astaroth, his younger brother, shared such a striking resemblance to him that Sirzechs used to whisper rumors amongst the nobility that he was in fact a clone of himself that Ajuka had his parents raise.
Honestly… he never understood his oldest friend’s sense of humor. It was so… nonsensical. Besides, Agerforth was not identical to him. Despite being the younger brother, Agerforth was noticeably taller, and he wore his hair quite shorter. It was easy to tell the two of them apart with just one’s eyes… never mind the absolute chasm of difference that was their magical presence.
“I remember mother telling me you had turned all the grass blue by the time you were three years old,” Agerforth remarked, his eyes remaining upon the field.
“It was for an experiment,” Ajuka answered after a thoughtful pause.
Another small silence settled comfortably between them. It was one of the many things he always appreciated about Agerforth: he took his time digesting words. Too many of their kind were hot-headed and reckless with their words. Too many did not take into account of what was being said before them. But not Agerforth; since his youth he had always been a thoughtful boy.
It was Ajuka’s crowning achievement as a big brother.
But after a minute had passed, Agerforth asked, “And what were the results of your experiment, brother?”
Ajuka continued watching the blue grass sway gently in the breeze as he said noncommittally, “It’s still ongoing.”
Speaking of his mother…
Ajuka silently calculated that it had been exactly four years, six months, and eleven days since he had last visited his mother. That left another five months and nineteen days before her patience withered and she inevitably took matters into her own hands and arrived unannounced to remind him, at considerable length, that he was an unfilial son who never made time for his poor old mother. And no number of messages, handwritten letters, or even astral projections would be deemed acceptable forms of communication.
No.
Mother always demanded his physical presence. She claimed it soothed her old heart, which was a complete pile of lies. Alas, not even Ajuka Beelzebub – for all his power and vast knowledge – could deny his mother.
And he knew, he knew, within precisely one minute and twelve seconds of greeting him, she would steer the conversation toward marriage and his (perceived) failure to deliver her any grandchildren. He knew every single word she would give in rebuke, every dry and sardonic twist of her mouth, when she would cross her arms and when she would narrow her eyes. And he also knew every single second of when he would refrain from sighing and every careful reply he would give in response, even which syllables he would stress and emphasize to get his point across.
The entire exchange had been meticulously parsed in his mind for years.
And still it vexed him to end that he had to physically endure the whole ordeal. Alas, such were the burdens and tribulations of being a good son.
As his eyes flitted over the swaying of the tall blue grass, Ajuka said rather conversationally, “You should have more children.”
A pregnancy and baby would successfully distract mother for at least three years, minimum. And it would reduce future conversations of his own marital status by at least eleven percent for the next century. And, while it was not an especially large margin, that eleven percent would go a long way in saving at least a dozen repetitive conversations with his mother.
Agerforth let out a dry sigh.
“Yes, brother. Never mind our species' abysmal fertility rate. Aquilia and I shall immediately begin producing children at your command.”
Ajuka frowned ever so slightly. His brother was fully aware that was not what he had meant, which made the sarcasm both unnecessary and unproductive. No, the real reason that Ajuka genuinely wanted his younger brother to have other children was because…
"Diodora is not fit to be heir,” he said firmly. “At the very least, another child will keep the Lordship within the main family."
As Agerforth fell silent, Ajuka allowed a touch of fondness and appreciation for his younger brother to rise in his heart. He knew that his words were hurtful, no parent liked to have their children’s inadequacies thrown in their face. And Ajuka wasn’t exactly being tactful; he was being deliberately artless with his criticism. But even then, it was with purpose.
He could clearly sense the thoughts in his brother’s mind swirl as he carefully mulled over what he had said.
“This is not the first time you've called into question Diodora’s qualifications as heir,” Agerforth noted quietly.
Because he is a foolish child who has never once demonstrated the slightest inclination to correct his own foolishness, Ajuka thought.
“Because he is not.”
“It is,” his brother said quite sharply, “however, the first time you’ve encouraged Aquilia and I to have another child. And your latter words imply that, somehow, my Lordship will fall into the hands of another branch of the family if we do not.”
Slowly, his brother turned away from the endless blue field, and Ajuka felt the weight of his gaze settle quietly upon him.
Ajuka was an anomaly of the Devil race – he was quite well aware of that. But Agerforth was just as aware of said anomaly, and his younger brother had spent centuries learning to discern and interpret his mannerisms. He may not be as powerful or knowledgeable as he was, but Agerforth was just as perceptive.
Frighteningly perceptive.
"Is my son going to die, brother?” Agerforth asked with a solemn quiet.
And his only answer was silence. A silence that conveyed the full gravity of the moment. Because they both knew, if he broke that silence, it would not be Ajuka answering…
Several long seconds passed before Agerforth slowly closed his eyes. His shoulders trembled ever so slightly and the only outward crack in the composure he had maintained throughout their conversation was a tightening around his eyes and the furrowing lines in his brows. Ajuka understood that the expected response would be to place a reassuring hand upon his brother's shoulder, to offer some fleeting gesture of comfort. But it would be pointless, it would neither alter Diodora's fate nor lessen Agerforth's grief… nor Ajuka’s own hand in both.
Drawing a slow, steadying breath, Agerforth remained silent for another moment before quietly asking, “Can my son be saved?”
And for the first time since returning to his birth house, Ajuka turned away from the endless field of blue grass and finally met his brother's aggrieved eyes. He had no desire to tell Agerforth all the sordid details, he had no desire to break the man’s heart any more… but Diodora had willingly aligned himself with Khaos Brigade and had even accepted power from Ophis. Worse still – and though the plot had been designed by Ajuka’s own hand - Diodora had delivered what he believed to be critical military intelligence into enemy hands.
Repeatedly, the stupid boy had chosen to betray his House and his Empire. Without a shadow of a doubt, Diodora had identified himself as a traitor, and for all their desire to break away from the savage tyranny of their ancestors – there was one thing which made the Satans just as brutal and unforgiving as their predecessors:
Treason.
"Put the House first,” said the Lord Beelzebub.
Agerforth drew another slow, measured breath as his eyes slipped shut once more, pain tightening the corners of his expression before he finally gave a single, resigned nod.
Ajuka walked past him without another word. His brother understood duty, even when it demanded the greatest of sacrifices, and for that Ajuka considered himself fortunate.
If only mother were so sensible, he thought to himself.
=======
Rias led her peerage through the broad marble corridors of the palace hotel, her footsteps echoing softly beneath the vaulted ceilings as she quietly turned over the unexpected summons in her mind. They had spent the last few hours compiling the information Rias had managed to discern with her senses on the other peerages, comparing it to information gathered from footage of old Rating Games and from rumors.
But then, an attendant suddenly knocked on the door of her suite and told her that she and her group were being summoned.
“Do you have any idea why we've been summoned so suddenly?” Akeno asked as they continued making their way down the hall, glancing toward her with quiet curiosity.
Rias gave a small shake of her head. “None whatsoever.”
“Maybe they're drawing lots for the tournament! Like in the old school manga where we have to put our hands in a box and pick a number!” Issei offered hopefully.
Kiba gave him a wry look. “They already told us that brackets have been finalized, Issei. They're going to announce them at noon.”
As they rounded the next corner, Rias recognized the suite number she had been told to go to and she gestured toward the door. Kiba then stepped forward without hesitation and knocked politely, and after only a brief pause, a familiar voice from within calmly replied,
“Enter.”
Rias and Akeno exchanged a brief glance the moment they recognized the voice as Lord Ichigo’s. What was he doing here? A part of her wondered if he was allowed to meet them, given that it might be considered an unfair advantage in the tournament.
Kiba pulled the door wide open for her and bowed, motioning for her to enter. As she passed him, Rias ran her hands through his hair affectionately as a quiet thanks – ever her shining knight.
But one by one, her peerage followed in after her into a spacious white chamber that was starkly empty save for the enormous windows along the opposite wall overlooking the capital. Lord Ichigo stood before them with his back turned, his attention seemingly fixed upon the view, though Rias had little doubt he had been fully aware of their presence the moment he had entered the city. Throughout her training with her grandmother, she had come to immensely appreciate the art of magical sensing – she couldn’t even begin to imagine to what degree the Underworld was mapped in the Demon Lord’s mind.
But then her attention was quickly drawn to an incredibly beautiful woman standing a short distance away. She possessed dark skin, shoulder-length brown hair that fell in waves, and elegant navy robes embroidered with glittering stars that shimmered like the night sky. She had a poise and charm to her, but also an easygoing and relaxed demeanor that made Rias think she was most likely someone who would do well in numerous social circles.
“Damn,” Issei blurted without a hint of restraint. “She's hot!”
Rias closed her eyes in a silent sigh… because of course. As sweet and kind a boy he was, she really needed to get him on a leash when it came to reining in his intrusive thoughts.
Hmm… a leash… Rias wondered if she should invest in a shock collar for Issei, to give him a small, harmless jolt whenever he stepped out of line. But no, she quickly dismissed the thought. Given Issei’s perverse streak, it might develop into a new, unwanted fetish. She also had a sinking feeling Akeno would abuse the opportunity for her own desires…
Hah… she had too many perverts in her peerage.
“Issei-san!” Asia quickly protested with a jealous little pout. “Y-you can't just blurt out things like that!”
Much to everyone's surprise, the woman merely smiled and gave Issei a playful wink “You're not too bad on the eyes yourself.”
There was a momentary pause, and Issei went deathly still. Very, very slowly color crept up his neck and he went a bright red.
Lord Ichigo finally turned from the window, his gaze calmly sweeping across all of them.
“Good,” he said evenly. “You're here.”
Rias instinctively began to bow alongside the rest of her peerage, only for the motion to halt midway as an invisible force gently but irresistibly held her in place.
“None of that,” Lord Ichigo said, dismissively waving a hand. “I'm on a tight schedule.”
And the invisible hands vanished as quickly as they had appeared.
“The other young Kings are currently meeting with their respective families before the tournament begins,” he continued. “Since you'll all be residing here for its duration for the sake of fairness, we decided that this would your opportunity to say goodbyes to your families. However, given your particular circumstances, I'm here in your family's stead… much to Sirzechs and Sona’s annoyance…”
Their legal guardian’s voice dripped with vexation towards the end, nevertheless, Rias blinked at him. “Then have you already met with Sona's peerage, my Lord?”
“I’m talking with them right now,” he said with a casual shrug.
A puzzled silence settled over the room, and their confusion must have been written plain of their faces because he added, “I can be in more than one place.”
Rias nodded with understanding. An avatar, she realized. Or perhaps some manner of magical clone. Which wasn’t surprising, her older brother often made use of such techniques given how immensely busy he was at all times of the year. But such was the burden of leadership.
Ichigo gestured toward the dark-skinned woman beside him. “By the way, this is Syrannax, a Senior Sister of the Seyfert Coven.”
Asia's eyes brightened with recognition. “Oh! I’ve heard of them.”
Rias nodded as well, the Seyfert Coven was one of the most expansive and influential magical societies within the Empire. It was an all-female coven that specialized in providing magical healthcare, since the Sitri clan’s services were widely reserved for the Nobility.
“Unsurprising,” Lord Ichigo said. “Few organizations are as reliable, or popular, when it comes to healing magic.”
Syrannax bowed deeply in Lord Ichigo’s direction. “The Grand Sorceress will be delighted to hear such praise from Your Highness.”
However, Lord Ichigo entirely ignored the thanks and continued on – Rias supposed the man was quite done with being bowed to all the time.
“And the reason she is here, and why I had you summoned, is because Syrannax will be performing a routine medical examination on all of you. Medical examinations and certification were supposed to have been submitted a week before the tournament, but, quite frankly, I was more concerned with your training than your immediate wellbeing.”
Rias suppressed the tick in the corner of her eye. At this point, she was rather used to the Sin of Wrath’s cavalier, near-thoughtless, admissions of cruelty and neglect… but at the same time, she still wished that he would be just a tad bit more caring and gentle. His own unique brand of – ahem – mentoring, left much to be desired.
Not that she wasn’t grateful!
Quite the opposite, Rias was well aware of what an incredible opportunity it was for her to have his personal guidance. And a part of her really enjoyed being pushed to her limits and seeing the bursts of improvements in her ability in both power and leadership! She just wished that he could ease up on them sometimes…
“With no further ceremony,” Syrannax said pleasantly, “shall we begin?”
She gave a casual wave of her hand, and a row of comfortable couches shimmered into existence before them. Rias and the others obediently took their seats while the sorceress softly began chanting, intricate blue sigils blooming one after another before her outstretched hand. Delicate strands of dark arcane light unfurled from the spellwork like ribbons of starlight, winding gently around each member of the peerage until Rias felt the cool magic brush harmlessly across her skin.
“There's no need to be alarmed,” Syrannax assured them as several translucent magical interfaces materialized around her. “These are merely diagnostic spells to verify the condition of your bodies, souls, and ambient magic.”
Her fingers danced effortlessly across a floating keyboard of glowing runes before she gave a thoughtful hum.
“Let's see... we'll begin with you, Lady Gremory. Height, weight, blood chemistry...”
Rias felt her cheeks warm ever so slightly. “Um... healer-patient confidentiality still applies to these examinations... doesn't it?”
“Of course,” Syrannax replied without looking up. “No one in this room besides myself can access these records. Ah...” She paused and cast an uncertain glance toward Lord Ichigo, who remained patiently watching from a distance away with his arms folded across his chest. “Well... almost no one. Unfortunately, I can't exactly override a Satan's security clearance.”
Rias' shoulders slumped and she let out a mental cry. And given the sudden uneasy looks on the faces of the other girls, she wasn’t the only one with these sentiments.
On one hand, it wasn’t surprising that the concept of privacy held little weight before the eyes of a Demon Lord, her own legal guardian at that. But at the same time, Rias couldn’t help but feel a little self-conscious.
Rationally, Rias knew she had nothing to be ashamed of. Months of relentless training kept her lean, and exhausting work hours to meet the burden of bills had left precious little time for her to laze around. Nor did she have access to the greatest chefs of the Gremory territory.
But still! She didn’t want him to know her weight!
What teenage girl enjoyed being medically analyzed in front of a cute older guy?!
But in the midst of her teenage angst, and just as Syrannax returned her attention to the floating displays, Koneko quietly raised one hand. “Question.”
The sorceress immediately looked up, the corners of her lips lifting into an amused smile.
“Isn't that adorable?” she said warmly. “How can I help, dear?”
Rias found herself smiling ever so slightly. It was rare to see Koneko volunteer to speak up to others outside of their group readily. But whatever had caught her attention had clearly tempted the little Nekoshou out of her reserved bubble.
Koneko studied Syrannax for another thoughtful moment before asking, “Are you a dragon?”
“Eh?” Issei perked up in surprise. “A dragon?”
Rias frowned imperceptibly and exchanged a look with Akeno.
“Koneko-chan,” Akeno gently chided, “that's rather a personal question.”
To Rias' surprise, Syrannax simply laughed.
“Oh, I don't mind in the slightest,” she replied. “I am a Dragon my mother's side. But my father is a Devil, though. What gave it away, my name?”
Koneko silently shook her head before tapping the tip of her nose with one finger. Recognition immediately crossed Syrannax's face.
“Ah, heightened sense of smell?”
At Koneko's quiet nod, the sorceress let out a sympathetic hum.
“Same, dear. My adolescent decades were miserable. I couldn't go out in public without being overwhelmed with a cascade of scents, many of them unpleasant. Just thinking about it makes me nauseous.” Her nose then twitched as she made an irked face. “Learning how to switch it off was one of the happiest days of my life.”
For the first time since entering the room, Rias watched Koneko's usually impassive expression crack with unmistakable curiosity.
“...Turn it off?”
“Of course!” Syrannax said jovially. “If you'd like, I can send you a link to the Seyfert Coven's astral web? We maintain a public archive devoted to managing and alleviating symptoms and lifestyle difficulties that come with heightened senses.”
Rias blinked in mild surprise. She had expected an influential magical coven to jealously guard their knowledge, apparently that wasn’t the case.
Koneko gave a quick, eager nod. “Thank you.”
Syrannax gave a playful smile and said, “Don’t mention it, dear. It’s literally my job.”
“Uhh... adolescent decades?” Issei asked slowly.
Rias winced at his complete lack of tact; the boy really had a bad habit of putting his foot in his mouth. However, much to Rias’ astonishment, Syrannax merely tucked a strand of hair behind her ear before giving him another playful wink.
“One hundred and seventy-four years young, stud.”
Issei's face erupted crimson as he descended into incoherent stammering. And Rias was torn between amazement at the (relatively) young Dragon flirting with her Issei and the sight of Asia puffing out her cheeks in a display of jealousy.
And it was at that moment Rias had a sudden, errant thought.
Oh, sweet Lucifer. Issei may actually achieve his harem dream.
After that, nearly an hour slipped by as Syrannax methodically worked her way through Rias’ entire peerage, and much to everyone’s relief, nearly all medical questions were conducted telepathically, preserving each patient's privacy with impeccable professionalism. Rias found herself quietly admiring the healer's tact and silently resolved to get her contact details. Having an in with one of the most powerful Covens in the Empire would be a great political boon for her in the future!
However, Syrannax abruptly froze near the end of the examination, her eyes widening before she stumbled back a step.
“Oh... wow,” she gasped.
Rias instinctively half-rose from her seat, only for Lord Ichigo to appear beside the startled sorceress in the blink of an eye.
“Are you alright?” he asked calmly.
“Uhh… yes, Your Highness,” Syrannax replied slightly dazed. But she quickly collected herself with an embarrassed smile. “Sorry… I've just never examined a Longinus-class Sacred Gear before and found myself overwhelmed. That’s an insane amount of metaphysical layering.”
“Uh... should I be worried?” Issei asked, looking very perturbed.
She quickly shook her head. “Not at all. Mystically, it's the most complicated thing I've ever seen. Medically, however, you're perfectly healthy.”
Issei's shoulders visibly relaxed as he let out a long, relieved breath. “Oh, thank Satan.”
“Is that everything, then?” Lord Ichigo asked.
Syrannax gave a satisfied nod. “It is, Your Highness. I can confidently pass them all with a clean bill of health. I’ll have all the proper documents handed over to the oversight committee within the hour.”
“Thanks.” His brown eyes swept over her and her group. “You can return to your rooms now. And good luck in the tournament, but remember; fight to kill and to survive. Don't treat it like a game. The moment you do is the moment you lose your edge.”
“Yes, my Lord,” Rias answered with a small, polite bow, the rest of her peerage quickly following suit.
And with that, they all trekked out of the room, leaving the healer and the Demon Lord behind. But only after they had stepped into the corridor and the door had closed behind them did Rias finally let out a long breath she hadn't even realized she'd been holding in. One hand drifted unconsciously to her chest as she gave herself a silent thump against her sternum.
“That man seems more overwhelming than ever,” she murmured to herself.
Feeling a gentle tug on her sleeve, she looked down to find Koneko watching her with quiet concern, prompting Rias to offer the little Nekoshou a reassuring smile. She then led them all down the hall and back towards the elevators. Rias really did want to return to going over all their gathered intel.
“It was very kind of him to arrange a full medical examination for us,” Asia observed softly.
Issei, however, merely folded his arms with an indignant huff. “Isn't that just his job as our legal guardian? He put us through Hell for months! The least he could do is pay our medical bills!”
Kiba gave him a dry look. “I'm fairly certain he can still hear everything you're saying.”
Issei immediately stumbled mid-step. “What? No way!”
“Oh, absolutely,” Rias replied with an amused shake of her head as they rounded the next corner. “Those of Ultimate-class and above possess extrasensory abilities that are ridicuous in scale. Depending on the individual, their perception can encompass entire cities, sometimes even countries. I imagine a Crown Prince’s senses can probably cover the entire Underworld… maybe even more.”
“What the Hell?” Issei exclaimed with horrified. “Great! I already get no privacy with a dragon stuck in my arm – err, no offense Ddraig - but now I have Satan watching me all the time too! What is this dystopian light novel bullshit!”
About to chide her Pawn – because really, she did not need another reason for Lord Ichigo to throw another brutal ‘training’ session on them – Rias was cut off by a sudden cry from behind them. Turning, she saw Syrannax jogging toward them, breathing just a touch heavily, but she was still smiling in a friendly demeanor.
“Is everything alright?” Rias asked, concern creeping into her voice.
“Yes,” Syrannax replied, sounding slightly winded. “Just needed to get Lord Ichigo's permission first.”
“Permission for what?” Rias asked, blinking in confusion.
Rather than answer, the sorceress produced a marker, gently took Issei's bewildered hand, and, with a self-satisfied smirk, wrote a string of numbers across his palm before looking up and blowing him a kiss.
“Call me,” she purred.
Then, as abruptly as she had appeared, Syrannax turned and strolled back down the corridor… but not without an obvious sway to her hips.
Issei stared mesmerized at the half-dragon sorceress as she walked away. But then the boy dragged his gaze down to the number on his hands and his eyes began to tear up. “I-I... I'm never washing this hand again.”
A weary sigh escaped Rias, though despite herself, an amused smile tugged at the corners of her lips. But as she glanced around to shepherd everyone onward, that smile slowly faded.
“Wait… where's Akeno?”
=======
Ichigo skimmed through the glowing diagnostic reports in contemplative silence, quietly satisfied that Rias and her peerage had emerged from their months of training in remarkably good condition. While he didn’t regret putting them through everything he had, Ichigo was keenly aware not everyone was as durable as him nor possessed his high-speed regeneration.
Sera and Sirzechs would never forgive him if anything permanent happened to their precious little sisters. And Ichigo wouldn’t blame them in the least. He’d have the same reaction if something happened to Yuzu and Karin.
But then, a faint chuckle escaped him as he thought of Syrannax who had nervously asked his permission if it was okay for her to romantically pursue one of his wards. She had all but sprinted after Issei when he had said yes.
Ichigo was no hypocrite: he wasn’t going to stop the much older Dragon from pursuing the teenage Devil who had only been in the Underworld for a few months now.
He then lowered his gaze from the medical reports and turned toward the door, unsurprised to find Akeno leaning shyly there; having quietly slipped in after Syrannax had ran out.
“Can I help you?” he asked easily.
She blushed almost immediately, and despite the confidence she tried to project as she pushed herself away from the door and walked toward him, her soul betrayed the anxious resolve simmering beneath her practiced composure.
Ichigo watched Akeno for a quiet moment as she came to a stop before him, and when she finally spoke, he found himself suppressing a smile.
“I was hoping to have a private moment with you… sir.”
There was an odd timbre to her voice, as if she had pitched her voice lower. Not comically so, but enough that she didn’t sound like her usual self. And after a second of deliberation, Ichigo quietly thought to himself -
Is she trying to make herself sound older?
It was such a teenage thing to do that it stirred an amused warmth in his chest. Though, choosing not to embarrass her by calling it out, he accepted her effort for what it was and simply lowered his gaze back to Syrannax's diagnostic reports.
“Well,” he replied lightly, the corners of his lips twitching with quiet mirth, “you have it.”
“I...” He heard her falter on the letter, her heartbeat briefly quickening as uncertainty threatened to overtake her resolve, only for her to push stubbornly through it. “I was hoping to ask a favor from you, sir.”
Ichigo chose to say nothing; instead, he allowed an uncomfortable silence to grow and fall heavy between them. It was a tried-and-true tactic he had picked up from Sirzechs – sometimes silence was far more intimidating than any word. Not that he wanted to intimidate her, but he had to admit - glancing at her from the corner of his eye and watching her squirm nervously, it was damn amusing.
“What kind of favor?” he finally asked, suppressing a smile as Akeno let out the breath she was holding.
“You're aware that,” she said a touch timidly, her former confidence having been shaken a tad bit, “once the tournament concludes, they'll be ranking individual Piece performances as well as the teams themselves? Like they do in the professional Rating Games?”
He let out a noncommittal hum.
“Not only am I aware,” he said, idly turning another page of the report, “I'm the one who pushed for it. I thought it would be more incentivizing for each individual.”
“Oh.” The simple surprise in her voice nearly made him chuckle.
“Are you about to ask me to rig the evaluations in your favor, Himejima?” he asked, unable to keep the teasing note entirely from his voice, even though he already knew that wasn't where this conversation was headed.
“No! No!” Akeno blurted, frantically waving both hands before her. “Absolutely not! The opposite, actually!”
And just like that, the more mature and assured voice she had been trying to project shattered. She was back to sounding like her usual self and Ichigo finally turned away from Syrannax's reports with undisguised amusement.
The moment their eyes met, Akeno seemed to realize she had just lost every ounce of composure she'd painstakingly tried to assemble, and a furious blush flooded her cheeks. She immediately looked away again, one hand drifting almost instinctively to a loose strand of hair that she absentmindedly began to twirl around her finger.
“I-I was hoping...” she began nervously before swallowing. “Maybe... if I finish as one of the top three Queens in the tournament...” Her voice grew quieter still. “...I could wrangle a reward out of you?”
Ichigo regarded her thoughtfully, keeping his expression as neutral as he could despite the growing suspicion of what this favor of hers actually was.
“What sort of reward?”
The color in her face deepened another shade. She mumbled incoherently enough that even his superior hearing and senses couldn’t make sense of it.
He raised a quiet eyebrow. “I'm sorry, what?”
Akeno squeezed her eyes shut, drew a deep, determined breath, and abandoned subtlety altogether.
“I want to go on a date with you!”
For just a heartbeat, genuine surprise crossed Ichigo's face, but it quickly fell away along with all sense of prior amusement.
He held back a deep sigh and gave Akeno his absolute, full attention.
Perhaps not so soon, and perhaps not with such earnest determination, but he had been expecting this conversation ever since he had left her with Diana, Ruval’s Bishop. Ichigo himself felt a certain kinship with Akeno, especially having helped her navigate her gref by sharing his own. And, again, he hadn’t been blind to her crush. So, it was no surprise to him that her infatuation, after their trauma bonding, had grown into something more. And through the nervous energy and fear in her eyes, he could see a quiet resolve and yearning burning away.
It would be beyond cruel of him to dismiss it, to crush it… and yet…
“Himejima...” Ichigo began gently, choosing his words with care. “You do know that I'm married, right?”
“I-I'm kind of into that!” The response burst out of her so suddenly that Ichigo found himself floored, and for one frozen instant, they simply stared at one another in quiet shock.
Then Akeno's eyes widened in horror. She clapped both hands over her mouth, her face becoming so impossibly red that Ichigo briefly wondered whether she was about to combust from embarrassment alone. He, meanwhile, found himself caught somewhere between exasperation and reluctant amusement.
Honestly, he shouldn’t be surprised. Given her Devil inclinations and Fallen Angel heritage, it was perfectly normal for her to have inclinations towards married men and enjoying extra-marital encounters. The thrill of the forbidden and taking what wasn’t theirs was so normal for both species.
And though he was quite accustomed to supernaturally beautiful women - being surrounded by legendary women like Yasaka, Tiamat and Grayfia - even Ichigo had to admit that Akeno excelled when it came to her own charm and beauty. He imagined that once she settled comfortably as an adult, she would become one of the most desired women in the Underworld.
“I-I don't mind that you're married,” Akeno hurriedly stammered through her panic, the words tumbling over one another in her desperation to recover. “I-I'm perfectly happy being... the other woman... o-or an affair partner...”
The final admission dwindled into little more than a mortified whisper.
Ichigo regarded her quietly, his thoughts immediately drifting towards Yasaka. He did his best to withhold the wince when he imagined his wife’s reaction to such a confession. His possessive, jealous and temperamental-as-the-Sun wife. Yasaka would undoubtedly clobber this poor girl into a pile of smoldering ashes.
Speaking of possessive and jealous…
“I kinda already have one of those,” he replied shamelessly. “The tabloids do love writing about what Tiamat and I get up to.”
“Oh...”
It was remarkable how much emotion could disappear from a person's posture in a single syllable. Her shoulders slumped, the hopeful spark in her eyes guttering as disappointment steadily seeped through her thoughts, and Ichigo could see the heartbreak settle over her soul.
His mouth twisted grimly as he felt a pang of guilt.
He wanted to close the distance between them and rest a sympathetic hand upon her shoulder, to offer some small gesture of comfort, but he staunchly resisted the urge to do so. That kind of physical contact, however innocent his intentions may be, could only further complicate the situation and send her the wrong kind of message.
“Listen, Himejima,” he said instead, his voice softening, even as he crossed his arms to show his firmness. “This is a thousand percent not about you.”
She looked up at him, her expression fragile.
“You're a gorgeous young woman, and I'm never going to pretend otherwise,” he continued with complete honesty. “But my relationships are already pretty complicated. It wouldn't be fair to me, and it certainly wouldn't be fair to the women who've already entrusted their hearts to me, if I knowingly made all of that even more complicated. Do you understand?”
Akeno opened her mouth to respond but slowly closed it again and swallowed hard, forcing down whatever words she had to say. Then, almost painstakingly, she gradually nodded in understanding.
And as soon as she did so, tears streamed down her pale cheeks.
Ichigo closed his eyes in a silent sigh as he felt a stab of guilt. She was just eighteen years old, literally the same age as Yuzu and Karin, and despite all the absurdities of their respective stations in life, Akeno was still just a teenage woman who had worked up every ounce of courage she possessed to confess her feelings.
Fuck…
He did not enjoy making girls cry. Ichigo rolled his jaw as he carefully considered his words, he even dropped his arms and consciously tried to relax his body language.
“You're young,” he said gently. “You're only eighteen. You've got years ahead of—”
Akeno shook her head so vigorously that her hair swayed around her shoulders.
“No.”
And Ichigo immediately fell silent with how much authority she managed to put into her voice.
“I like you,” she said with surprising steel despite the tears spilling from her eyes. “I really, really like you. These aren't just silly teenage feelings.” She swallowed hard, her voice wavering only for a moment before finding its footing again. “I know I'm just a kid to you... but my feelings are real.”
A quiet sadness settled over him, but at the same time, Ichigo was filled with admiration for her ability to stand up and protect her own feelings.
“And I'm never going to deny that,” Ichigo replied softly. “Nor am I ever going to insult you by delegitimizing what you feel. The point I am trying to make is that you and I have a very long future ahead of us.”
Her brows knit together and he could see her confusion plainly.
"I'm not saying no," he said calmly, and Akeno's teary eyes widened as she stared up at him with some mixture of hope and uncertainty. "I'm saying, ask me again far down the line. Depending on where you are then, depending on where I am - well, we'll go from there and see what happens."
And even as he said the words, Ichigo had to keep himself from letting out a rueful and self-deprecating laugh… because he was essentially offering Akeno the same distant hope that Yoruichi had offered him under the pale of the moonlight.
The irony ate at him.
But Akeno simply stared at him, too stunned to speak, and she seemed lost as she stared into his eyes, her tears still falling freely. Offering her a kind smile, Ichigo conjured a pristine white handkerchief and extended it toward her.
But she made no move to accept it. Instead, Akeno took a shaky breath, and although her voice emerged scarcely above a whisper, he could feel the burning hope anchoring every word.
“Do you mean it?”
"I've got no reason to lie to you, Himejima,” he said just as quietly, shaking the handkerchief and encouraging her to take it.
Akeno slowly accepted the handkerchief from his outstretched hand, her fingers brushing lightly against his own, though she made no attempt to dab away the tears still marking her cheeks. Instead, she simply stood there in silence, her gaze fixed somewhere beyond him as she wrestled with herself. Ichigo had seen that look before, because it was one he had worn too often himself in his own teenage years.
It was the expression of someone forcing their heartache back beneath cultivated discipline. Again, he found himself drawing parallels between himself and Akeno – they really did have so much in common.
But he watched the turmoil gradually ebb from her soul as determination reasserted itself, patiently gathering together the scattered pieces of her composure until emotion yielded to quiet resolve.
After what felt like a long while, Akeno lifted her eyes to meet his again. The tears had stopped, though the faint tracks remained upon her face, and while there was still sadness within her, the uncertainty had entirely disappeared. Folding her hands neatly before herself, she offered him a crisp, impeccably proper bow.
“I am sorry for the loss of decorum, sir.”
Ichigo gave a soft smile as he put his own hands inside of the pockets of his jacket.
“Don't mention it,” he replied warmly. “But you should probably rejoin your peerage now. I imagine they're beginning to wonder where their Queen has disappeared to.”
She straightened from her bow, though she kept her head respectfully inclined.
“Thank you for indulging me,” she said quietly. “And... thank you for giving me your time, sir.”
He inclined his head in return.
“Good luck in the tournament, Himejima. I shouldn’t be saying this since I’m technically supposed to be impartial, but I'll be rooting for you.”
A small smile finally found its way back onto her face, faint but genuine, and with one last courteous nod she turned and made her way toward the door. Ichigo watched her go in thoughtful silence, quietly pleased to see that she had recovered enough of herself to leave with her dignity intact. Heartbreak was seldom something one simply erased, but Akeno possessed a quiet resilience beneath all the flirtation and mischief, and he suspected that resilience would serve her well in the years ahead.
Just as she stepped through the doorway, however, she suddenly paused. Turning back over her shoulder, she met his eyes once more, and this time the melancholy was accompanied by the familiar playful spark that she usually manifested around her peerage.
“I'm going to steal your heart, Lord Ichigo.”
Before he could think of a suitable reply, she disappeared into the corridor, the door clicking softly shut behind her. Ichigo shook his head amused.
=======
Tiamat entered their bedroom and found her beloved standing before the window, both hands buried inside his jacket as he watched the rain pour heavily across Infernity. Her rain, born from a dragon’s greed to see all that is covered by its touch. Crossing the room, she wound her arms around his waist and pressed herself against his back, indulging in the familiar warmth of him. She kissed the center of his back and released a soft, contented purr and he rested one hand over those she had clasped against his stomach, though he otherwise remained silent.
She knew his mind was pulled in many directions at the moment, even as he had several avatars running through the underworld, enforcing his dread will.
And yet, there were some memories that flitted through his faceted mind that were quite amusing to her.
“Regretting breaking a young maiden’s heart, beloved?”
He offered no answer, though through the open pathways between their minds, Tiamat felt his thoughts moving far beyond Baraqiel’s daughter and the wounds upon her heart. In truth, she had only sought to lighten the burden upon him, to draw his attention away from the Devils and their civil war racing toward its bloody climax.
She hugged him tighter.
A bolt of blue lightning tore across the storm-darkened sky, briefly bathing their bedroom in cold radiance as she continued nuzzling against his back. At last, his hand tightened faintly over hers.
“Are you mad at me?” he asked quietly.
Her lips curved into a smile, and she pressed herself deeper into him, placing another kiss against his back. Even through all his burden, he still thought of her heart first. He was still concerned about whether his actions had caused her any turmoil.
Her beloved, in every way.
"No,” she said, ensuring the amusement in her voice was reflected in her mind. “But if the child’s heart is set on snatching yours, then she shall learn swift that it is no meek thing to steal from a wyrm's clutches."
She could feel his chest quietly rumble with laughter, and she smiled wider at her small triumph.
“Don’t eat her,” he said with quiet mirth. “Rias and Sirzechs will both throw an epic tantrum if you do."
“I have no desire to distress that child,” she responded.
A comfortable silence settled around them, broken only by the heavy patter of the rain beating steadily against the glass and the low, soothing rumble of thunder above. Tiamat relished that her beloved could find some small catharsis in the sound of her storm, as though the tempest born from her soul might quiet the unrest within his own. The simplicity of it endeared him even more to her.
Nevertheless, she slowly slipped from his warmth and wound her fingers around the crook of his left elbow, gripping tight yet tugging gently.
“Come to bed, beloved. Your mind is too grim.” She then leaned forward, she pressed her lips beneath his ear and in a throaty purr said, “Let your Tiamat wash away your concerns.”
Those warm brown eyes that never failed to pierce her thoughts fell heavy on her and, without a spoken word, he pressed a firm kiss to her brow before gently cupping her cheek.
“Not tonight, beautiful. Sadly, grim and dark is exactly where I need to be right now, where Satan needs to be.”
Tiamat pouted as draconic instinct sharpened within her, urging her to pounce and push him down, to remind him that he was hers and she his. To make him cry out her name and charge the air with the immensity of her love. And such fierce obsession was the inheritance of every dragon, yet knowing intellect prevailed over wild instincts, and she forced the impulse down. Drawing a calming breath, she found him smiling apologetically, their bond having betrayed her internal struggle.
He pressed another soft kiss to her brow and, with his lips still brushing her skin, said, "I can see it so clearly, the outpost in Malebolge will fall within the hour. And then the enemy will send scouts into the five teleport destinations that were connected to the array. We'll seem so engrossed with the tournament, by tomorrow morning, they'll boldly launch their attack…"
"Right into your waiting jaws," Tiamat finished for him, but she pulled away and looked him firmly in the eyes, a hint of appreciation sparking through her mind. "Your prescience continues to grow stronger, beloved."
He nodded, and Tiamat was astonished as she realized the moment of his apotheosis may not be so far off. She had thought a century, decades at minimum…
She held back a sigh; he never failed to astound her.
"The Old Satan Faction will most likely be crushed, along with whatever forces Khaos Brigade has sent to reinforce them, and the fear and shock of a sudden attack inside of the Empire will only embolden the populace to embrace Sirzechs' militarization."
"It seems you and the other horrors have everything well in hand then, beloved," she said lightly.
"Everything..." he repeated in a soft tone.
Everything except for the Void, they both said within the confines of their shared mindscape.
Because, no matter what they plan, they cannot take into account what Ophis will do. Because the very idea of Nothing cannot be foreseen nor planned for. Such was the impossibility of the Infinite Ouroboros.
Tiamat leaned into her beloved and rested her head against his shoulder, allowing her eyes to drift half-shut as she took solace in the dark heat radiating through his flesh. He responded in kind by resting his head gently against hers, and for several quiet moments they remained entwined before the rain-streaked window, drawing comfort from one another while the storm rumbled beyond the glass.
“The cold breath before the plunge,” she murmured.
He released a low hum of agreement. “Sirzechs and Grayfia-nee have a request, by the way.”
Tiamat tilted her head just enough to meet his eyes.
“They’ll both be occupied on the frontlines, along with the entirety of Sirzechs’ peerage. They’re hoping you can look after Millicas.”
“Of course,” Tiamat answered without hesitation.
The mere thought of the child softened something within her. She adored his innocence and irrepressible cheer, his endless questions and eager determination to improve himself whenever she offered him instruction. Most endearing of all was the way his young face brightened whenever she praised him or drew him close, as though the smallest morsel of her approval were a treasure beyond measure. Such guileless affection made it all too easy to indulge him, and she found herself smiling fondly as she recalled his childish laughter.
He reminded her of-
A powerful ripple suddenly tore through the fabric of reality, striking the golden eddies of Fate like a discordant note. Tiamat’s smile vanished as she and Ichigo looked up sharply, their awareness immediately piercing the folds of time and space and passing through entire dimensions toward that immense distortion of empyrean power.
"Looks like things are finally getting chaotic up there," he said as a flicker of gold entered his eyes.
She nodded her head.
"As above, so below."
=======
In the Celestial Planes of the High Heavens, Amaterasu-Ōmikami stood in exalted splendor, her radiance a universe's worth of gold and empyrean majesty. Every strand of her onyx hair was masterfully bound by a resplendent phoenix hairpin, while robes of living sunlight fell heavily from her shoulders without the slightest stir. Her posture remained perfectly straight, her chin imperious and unyielding, and her golden eyes shone with such immeasurable life that even Eternity itself seemed illuminated by their warmth.
Behind the Eternal Sun of Nihon stood the assembled host of Heaven, innumerable kami both greater and lesser arrayed in ascending ranks that stretched beyond sight, each floating serenely above the other in a vast celestial court. Clad in flowing robes of immaculate white, their faces were hidden behind sacred partitions lest the lower light of their own countenances touch and taint the majesty of the Sovereignty of the Sun. And so they remained in perfect silence, their heads lowered in absolute reverence before the Radiant Queen of Takamagahara.
Yet across from her unwavering gaze stood the Chilled Moon of the Night, her own Twin, separated by both a single step and the immeasurable breadth of an entire cosmos.
Behind Tsukiyomi gathered the innumerable spirits of Dusk and Darkness, where the Mansions of the Constellations, every radiant star and their celestial attendants, and each creeping shadow of immortality stood united beneath the rime of the Moon. Then, for but the briefest instant, her gaze drifted beyond her brother's shoulder, where the encompassing dark writhed with voracious delight into the shifting silhouette of the Dread-Star-of-Heaven, Amatsu-Mikaboshi.
And as soon as the Dark Star gazed back at her, a pillar of thunder descended through the Golden World, and Heaven itself quaked beneath the arrival of the Breathing Storm, the Tempest of Valour, Susanoo-no-Mikoto. Stepping upon Eternity with all his brazen disregard, he threw back his head in booming laughter that rolled across the Celestial Planes like peals of thunder. "Such magnificent theatre, dear Elder Sister! Even that decayed star hath crawled from its wretched pit!"
Yet Amaterasu paid him no heed, for the very instant Susanoo spoke, the downy touch of the Void laced through Eternity. And beyond both the Sun and the Moon, within the darkness that cradled the Night, eight vast serpentine shadows slithered silently between the stars before converging into a single many-headed malformation, its baleful gazes fixed upon her Stormcrowned Brother.
The thunder at Amaterasu's side answered with jubilant fury, roars of Heaven-shaking laughter rolling across golden skies as white lightning crashed with savage delight. "Old foe, pray tell! What slight didst thou give the Primal Void, that I should be blessed with such a gift? Ah, what joy it brings me! That I may wound thee! That I may hurt thee! That I may pour wine from thy severed skulls once more!"
Eight sky-rending roars answered his challenge, and the constellations trembled as tides of ancient malice surged against the golden splendor of Takamagahara.
She then turned her gaze back to her Twin, her countenance one of controlled and cold fury, even as her radiant eyes burned with undisguised contempt. "That you would stain these sacred planes with that vile beast! That you would lend hand to the Infinite Serpent's bid to undo Our children! Your betrayal is now truly complete!"
"Betrayal?" And Tsukiyomi tilted his chin, that face near identical to hers twisting into a sneer. "And tell me, mine other half, where was your loyalty, where was your familial love, when I was so unjustly banished for a perceived transgression? What is left to betray that you did not already so heartlessly sever?"
The eternal argument, endlessly repeating and endlessly breaking their shared heart which was now bound with only bitter, jaded disappointment... and regret.
All Tsukiyomi had ever needed to do was bow his head, confess but a single transgression, and she would have welcomed him home, gladly decreeing a pardon! Yet his pride had chosen exile over family, resentment over reconciliation, and silence over expressed remorse. And she waited. She had waited for the day...
But her heart chilled.
It was too late.
Her noble son, her child, so kind and compassionate, so thoughtful and considerate towards those he held in his heart… even her… he had now taken the hand of the Red Destroyer. And the door was now fully open for his inevitable ascension.
The very destiny she had decreed for him had, by his own hand, become a final doom.
Tsukiyomi’s doom.
Yet she would not apologize, nor could she. For she was the immutable truth of the Universe, and truth could never repent of itself. Yes... it was too late. Gone was the time for tears. And even as her noble son had cemented his resolve, so too must she. For her, Sovereign and Lord, doubt and regret were but an illusion. For the sake of all that she protected, there could only be room for her Will - and it must be unquestionable.
And as she looked upon Tsukiyomi and his face, which so closely mirrored her own, the sorrow in her heart melted like frost on spring's first light. No more words, no more arguments, and no more rebuttals. Outside of here and beyond the now, let it begin, the beginning of their end.
Yet it would not begin by her hand.
And save for the divine Triumvirate born of Izanagi, every immortal and their luminous shadows then bowed in obeisance; those gathered beneath the Sun did so with profound admiration, those beneath the Moon with instinctive fear, and all alike with absolute acknowledgement stirring within their immortal hearts.
An Aeon I Have Protected this House.
High Heaven itself sang with joyous pride beneath the immeasurable weight of his presence, for he was the noblest of all the Undying Spirits, Takamagahara's most honored and celebrated scion. As he strode across the breadth of Eternity, the golden echoes of Time parted before him with silence and reverence.
An Aeon I Bore the Weight of Worlds.
With but a single step, the place at Amaterasu's right hand was no longer empty. And there stood her oldest and dearest friend, the resplendent pillar who had shouldered the bridge of the cosmic balance. The only one within the pantheon who understood the onus of duty and majesty as she did.
You Who Emerge from Craven Shadows, Know This -
For the first time in what felt like an age, Amaterasu felt genuine joy in her heart. For she had missed him sorely. And even if she was doomed to lose her brother, at the very least, another son of Takamagahara had returned to the fold.
I Am the Lord of the Dead,
The King in the Dark.
I Sundered Yomi with a Gaze,
And Held Fast the Reins of Death.
I Am Adnyeus,
And I Invite You to Your Grave!
Stepped forward then the Soul King, who drew forth his mighty blade.
=======
A/N: This chapter is held together by a coherent underlying concern: what rulers, parents, guardians, and ancestors can do to those around them. Sirzechs manipulates the Devil populace while presenting himself as their paternal sovereign; Ajuka coldly pushes House Astaroth as he deems best; Ichigo's harsh and direct methods force Rias to grow without comfort to fall back on; Ichigo's desire for Akeno to grow sees her latch onto him for more positive affirmation and affection; and Amaterasu destroys her relationship with her Twin because neither immortal sibling can perform the simple human act of apologizing and saying I'm sorry.
I enjoyed writing Rias as being more decisive and proactive, she's actively scouting her competition. Where she fought Riser basically blind, she's now spying and looking through old Rating Game footage to learn as much as she can. And I finally had Ichigo being confronted with what he knew and subtly encouraged, Akeno's growing love for him. Maybe, after the story is done, in her distant future, she'll be able to have a piece of Ichigo's heart. Until then, she just needs to grow.
Ajuka was such a challenge to write. He's so alien and cruel, but takes no delight in it. He's not a robot nor a machine without emotions, he genuinely loves his family, but he is so mercilessly pragmatic about it.
And, of course, the Soul King returned. I almost titled this chapter Return of the King.
But yeah, the Shinto Civil War is in full swing, even as the next few chapters will be the ending of the Second Devil Civil War. Hope you enjoyed!
This is Syrannax, by the way! I wanted to throw Issei a bone after having his canon harem crushed.