A few days have passed since I brought Asia home, and the routine settled in as if she had always been here. In the mornings, I find her in the kitchen, apron on, trying to mimic Reynare when she seasons the soup. She sweeps with short steps to be quiet, hums softly in Italian when hanging laundry in the yard, and when she thinks no one is looking, she stays a moment with her hands around her teacup, as if giving silent thanks. The house—already noisy on its own—became softer with her inside.
Reynare won't let her touch the oven unsupervised (traumas from a past life and an absolute faith in her spices), but she accepted Asia as a helper and, oddly enough, enjoys teaching her. Alya handles shopping accounts and schedules, Hikari and Hibiki do the maintenance tour—locks, cameras, sensors—, Sakura set up a little infirmary corner in the study, and Tamamo maintains the barriers like someone watering an invisible garden. Sona visits often: "security audits," she says... and then stays for dinner.
From Azazel, I received a message as clear as a slap: dirty play. The fallen angel who was supposed to pick up Asia was murdered just hours after her arrival. No culprit in sight. I didn't need more pieces to complete the picture: the smell of Kokabiel was in the air.
So, I expanded the range of my Observation Haki to cover a good part of Kuoh. It's like listening to hundreds of clocks at once and distinguishing which one is half a second fast; a slight pressure behind the ears that tells you where an intention beats. The result was immediate: a few blocks from the house, a presence tethered to patience, smelling of charred feathers and resentment. A fallen angel watching our roof as if it were an equation.
"He's been watching us for days, Ddraig."
"And every day he hates breathing a little more," the dragon purred. "Either he leaves... or he breaks something."
He didn't leave.
On the third evening, the flavor of his intention changed. Muscles tensed, teeth clenched. Order received. Behind him, other embers lit up on the mental map: reinforcements. Among those heartbeats appeared an uneven one, like half-stifled laughter: Freed Sellzen. I didn't need to see him to know who he was; arrogance has its own smell.
Kitchen Council
I gathered everyone around the table—house blueprint, three markers, hot tea—and spoke without mincing words.
"They're coming tonight. They won't ring the bell."
Sona straightened her pencil.
"Number?"
"Six to eight. The loudmouth with the cursed sword included."
Reynare let out a snort.
"Freed. Perfect. He owed me one."
Tamamo placed two fingers on the map. The paper dampened and lines of light were born: a veil of mirages surrounding the block, curves like irrigation ditches to divert eyes and ears. A seal of silence, light dissipation, black curtains over the street so no curious neighbor gets new nightmares.
"I'll handle trajectory illusions," she said. "If they try to flank, they'll walk in circles without realizing it."
Alya placed the headphones on the table, light as leaves.
"Internal communications on a closed channel. Emergency call with a double tap. Code words: 'dawn' if the route is clear, 'shadow' if we need to fall back."
Hikari and Hibiki opened a case with non-lethal gear: extendable batons, paralysis seal ropes, smoke balls to dizzy fallen angels without killing.
"We'll take the pawns," said Hibiki. "You finish the boss."
Sakura placed bandages, vials, and a case with labels. She smiled tensely.
"I promise scoldings later. For now, I suture and stay quiet."
Reynare updated the patio lighting to turn it into an enemy: lanterns to dazzle eyes adapted to darkness, false shadows to hide real ambushes. Sona raised her own Sitri dome: a translucent dome that made the air heavy and the ground treacherous for anything with "Grigori" tattooed on its wings.
I kept my Conqueror's Haki to a fine thread. I didn't want to knock anyone out by mistake—that already happened between floors 100 and 200 of Tartarus. Today, I needed precision.
Asia listened in silence, gripping her rosary until it left a mark. When the meeting ended, she waited for me in the hallway, shoulders hunched.
"If I turn myself in," she said, voice tiny, English in her consonants, "they won't have to fight."
I shook my head slowly.
"No one here surrenders out of fear."
"But I... I brought the danger."
"The danger was already loose. You brought something else." I pointed to the living room, the weak laughter, the smell of broth, the murmur of Tamamo adjusting seals. "This."
She looked me straight in the eye for the first time since she arrived. In her eyes, contained water; in her chest, a disorderly drum I could even hear.
"I want to believe," she whispered.
"Believe in me," I replied. "Under my roof, you are safe."
The phrase resonated in the wood. Perhaps in something more. Ddraig stirred, satisfied.
"Let them hear that well," he said.
I asked Sakura to stay with Asia in the safe room: reinforced door, two layers of runes, an exit to the backyard hidden by wisteria. Asia nodded, took a deep breath... and went to pray for a minute. Not to be without fear, but to walk with it without bending.
The sun dissolved behind the rooftops, and the house exhaled in unison. Hikari took first watch on the roof, Hibiki guarded the front perimeter from the garden. Alya centralized communication in the study. Reynare floated just above the roof, eyes on the street. Sona and Tamamo crossed defense diagrams like Go players. I made one last sweep with Observation Haki deployed like a fan.
There they were: eight marks moving like drops in oil. At the head, that uneven heartbeat, smiling just by existing.
"They're coming," I announced on the channel.
The neighborhood lanterns blinked twice—courtesy of Tamamo—then died. The world was now inside our bell jar.
The first one landed on the fence with overconfidence. He stood frozen for a second, gaping: three steps away from him, the garden seemed infinite and, at the same time, the entrance always seemed a bit farther away. Tamamo's toroidal illusion. He tried to fly... and slammed into a wall of air. Sitri dome.
"One tangled," Hibiki reported. "Going."
She slipped silently, put him to sleep with two touches, and left him tied to the base of the mailbox with a rope that whispered "stay."
Then Freed appeared.
He vaulted the fence like someone skipping class, cursed sword dangling from his hand, smile like a razor blade. He smelled of gunpowder, old blood, and spilled gasoline.
"Good evening, little neighbors!" he sang in a nasal voice. "I'm here for the miracle girl. Hand her over and I won't..." he made an ugly gesture with the dagger. "You know."
Sona stepped forward from the porch shadows, impeccable even in combat.
"Negative."
Freed looked at her as one looks at a traffic light: with a desire to not respect it.
"A Sitri, huh?" he licked his lips. "This just got fun."
I was already in the garden. The Boosted Gear materialized on my arm with that roar of hot forge that runs down my back.
"It's not a night for fun," I said. "It's a night of expensive mistakes."
Freed laughed. He gave a signal with two fingers. Four fallen angels took off from the eaves, black light spears in each hand. Reynare rose in silhouette, splitting one spear with another, face cold. Hikari and Hibiki fanned out diagonally from the flanks; Alya called out positions on the channel with Swiss precision. Tamamo shifted the wind to unbalance wings. Sona thickened the air in front of the door like it was gelatin.
I didn't take my eyes off Freed.
"Ready?" I murmured.
"Always," said Ddraig.
"Boost!" The word vibrated in the metal.
Freed charged, smiling like someone spooning soup. We met halfway. His cursed sword buzzed seeking my side, my fist met it wrapped in Armament Haki; the clash sparked and perfumed the night with ozone.
Behind me, I heard Hibiki laughing softly as she disarmed a fallen one; Reynare cursing in a honeyed voice as she dodged by centimeters; Sakura reporting: "Asia with me, calm"; Alya: "Two from the east, Tamamo is confusing them"; Sona: "Dome stable. Continuing containment."
Freed retreated half a step, surprised he hadn't cut flesh. He winked at me with a twisted eye.
"Well, well, little dragon. Lucky you like playing hero."
"I don't play," I replied. "I protect."
And then the night truly split open.
"Now!" I gave the signal.
Tamamo's illusions opened like curtains, Sona's dome redirected the enemy push, and I advanced with another Boost to my chest. Inside my ear, Asia's breathing became a prayer. Beneath my feet, the house exhaled like an animal defending its young.
Under my roof, no one is taken from me.
And with that certainty, I lunged to finish what they started.
The night in Kuoh was quiet after the intense events of the day. Inside Daniel's spacious mansion, the atmosphere was warm, almost homely, despite the recent confrontation with the fallen angel captured by Azazel.
Once the leader of the fallen angels had left with his prisoner, the mood in the main living room softened. The warm light from the lamps bathed the room in a cozy glow, and the silence was broken only by the faint creak of wood and the relaxed breathing of those still processing what had happened.
From one of the side rooms, Sakura Matou and Asia Argento emerged to join the group. The blonde-haired girl hurried and, without hesitation, ran towards Daniel. Her green eyes shone with emotion and relief.
"Thank God you're okay, Daniel!" Asia exclaimed with tears in her eyes, clinging to him in a hug full of devotion.
The comment caused Sona Sitri, who was watching from a sofa with her arms crossed, to pinch the bridge of her nose slightly. The open mention of God in a place full of demons inevitably gave her a slight headache, though she refrained from commenting, understanding Asia's innocence.
Meanwhile, Sakura, who had been observing, flashed a mischievous smile. She walked calmly towards Daniel, who still had Asia hugging him, and without warning, leaned in.
"Well done, darling..." she whispered, and then her lips gently met his in a tender, fleeting kiss.
The spark ignited by that gesture was enough for the rest of the girls to exchange glances. Hikari and Hibiki stepped forward almost simultaneously, each claiming her turn with determination. The first gave him a brief but ardent kiss, while the second was more playful, brushing her lips against his with a mischievousness that provoked nervous laughter from the others.
Reynare, with her possessive and passionate nature, took the initiative immediately. She grabbed Daniel by the shirt and kissed him forcefully, not caring about the presence of the others, marking her territory in the clearest way possible.
Then, with the grace of a goddess and a charming air, Tamamo-no-Mae approached. Her kiss was different: not aggressive or brief, but slow, delicate, and laden with affection, as if in every second she wanted to remind him how much she adored him.
Finally, Sona and Alya, who had remained observing the scene with a slight blush on their cheeks until then, sighed resignedly. They stepped forward with firm steps, and each took Daniel's chin with her usual elegance and gave him a controlled but sincere kiss, more intimate than passionate, demonstrating the trust between them.
Asia, who had witnessed the entire scene from a corner, froze. An involuntary pout formed on her angelic face, and a strange feeling began to well up in her chest. She didn't quite understand what it was: annoyance? jealousy? longing? Her heart beat strongly, and the more she saw Daniel responding tenderly to each kiss, the stronger that feeling became.
The girls, who knew her well enough by now to read her like an open book, exchanged knowing looks. They knew exactly what was happening. Asia, raised under the rigid dogmas of the church, had lived her whole life deprived of true affection, and now, after finding kindness and protection in Daniel, it was inevitable that something more would emerge.
Suddenly, Asia clenched her fists, closed her eyes, and in a burst of courage she didn't even know she had, raised her voice:
"I don't want to be left behind either!"
Without giving anyone time to react, she ran to Daniel, stood a little on her tiptoes, and, with determination, pressed her lips against his. It was a short, clumsy, and completely innocent kiss... but laden with genuine feelings: gratitude, longing, nascent love, and even a touch of repressed jealousy.
Time seemed to stop in the mansion. Daniel opened his eyes in surprise, and Asia, upon pulling away, stared at him with her face flushed like a tomato. She could barely process what she had done.
"I'm sorry!" she said tremulously, bringing both hands to her blushing cheeks. "I-I... was too forward... Daniel... do you think I'm a... pervert now?"
Her voice was barely a whisper laden with fear, as if she feared that single act of boldness would condemn her to rejection.
Daniel blinked for a few seconds, still processing, then looked at each of his girlfriends. None seemed upset. In fact, they all smiled, some mischievously, others with tenderness, as if they had been waiting for this outcome.
Seeing that, Daniel let out a soft sigh and, with a calm smile, drew Asia into his arms. He hugged her warmly, stroking her head as she trembled and hid her face in his chest.
"You have nothing to apologize for, Asia..." he said softly, clearly enough for her to hear. "There is no rejection for you here. You have a place here, with me... with everyone."
Tears began to roll down Asia's cheeks as she, finally understanding the message, returned the hug tightly. For the first time in a long while, she felt she truly had a home. And as in the tales she never thought she'd live, she had found her prince, surrounded by a warm and peculiar harem that was now also her family.