3rd Person POV
On the way to the nursing home, Issei noticed Yuuma is a little pale since the morning, from the moment she returned from a phone call, even when they had lunch together before heading to the nursing home, she didn't bother to eat, kept fidgeting back and forth about something, and frequently glancing at her phone "Are you alright?" He asks—genuinely concerned—as they lug the last crate of chocolates through the nursing home's polished halls.
Yuuma startles, nearly dropping her phone. "Fine!" Her smile stretches too wide. "Just...thinking about how many elders we'll miss if we don't hurry." She adjusts her grip, fingers digging into the cardboard. "They have strict meal schedules, you know."
Issei hums but doesn't press further—not when the head nurse greets them with open arms, her eyes crinkling at the sight of Koneko's pawprint logo. "Ah, the Gremory apprentice's work! We've been looking forward to this." She ushers them toward the common room where residents already cluster around tables, their murmurs bright with anticipation.
Heading inside the 2 see the orphans are already playing with the elders, 30 kids and 50 elders gathered in the common room, some elders are telling stories to the kids, some kids are drawing pictures for the elders, some elders are teaching the kids origami, some kids are singing songs for the elders—it's a heartwarming scene that makes Yuuma's forced smile falter for a second.
"Here they are!" Issei announces, setting the crate down with a thud that draws eager glances. The head nurse claps her hands. "Everyone, our kind volunteers have brought special treats from Kuoh Academy's famous chocolatier!" A chorus of delighted gasps and clapping erupts—until Yuuma stiffens mid-unpacking, her fingers freezing around a golden-wrapped bag.
Issei notices first—the way her knuckles bleach white, the tremor in her wrists. "Yuuma?" He reaches out, but she jerks back as if scalded. The nursing home's cheerful noise dims around them, muffled by the sudden roar of blood in her ears. "You okay?" His touch snaps her out of the limbo state as she shakes her head "I'm fine, just a little....tired"
The lie tastes metallic on her tongue. She forces herself to distribute the chocolates mechanically, her fingers brushing against wrinkled hands and tiny palms—each contact sending a jolt through her nerves. The elders' gratitude feels like knives. The children's laughter echoes like sirens.
Across the room, Issei kneels beside a wheelchair-bound woman, carefully unwrapping a chocolate for her. His grin is effortless, his voice warm as he recounts Koneko's strict quality checks. Yuuma looks at the scene, at the children, at the elders, at....him, taking care of others, laughing, joking, being kind—her stomach and heart eases for a moment, 'Why....why does this feel so painful?'
"Yuuma-nee!" A kid came to Yuuma running "Will you eat with us?" The boy—no older than six—tugs at her skirt with sticky fingers, his cheeks still smeared with chocolate. His smile is gap-toothed and guileless, the kind that makes elders coo and teenagers awkwardly pat his head.
Yuuma's breath catches, the pressure pushed back into the back of her mind by the innocence of the child "Sure." The word slips out before she can stop it. The boy whoops, dragging her toward a table where children are stacking chocolate wrappers into origami cranes. Issei beams at her from across the room, already helping an elderly man "Here, open wide, it's really delicious, not too sweet, and really soft"
The old man obliges, his arthritic hands trembling as he accepts the bite Issei offers. His rheumy eyes widen slightly at the taste—rich, smooth, with a hint of something earthy beneath the sweetness—just as Yuuma sinks into a chair between two chattering children. One of them immediately thrusts a half-folded origami crane into her hands, chocolate smudges staining the paper wings.
"You gotta make the tail pointy like this!" the girl insists, grabbing Yuuma's fingers to adjust the fold. The contact is startlingly warm. Yuuma stares at the child's hands—small, unmarked by combat or cruelty—then at her own, where phantom bloodstains seem to shimmer under the nursing home's lights.
Issei's laughter cuts through her daze. He's now surrounded by a trio of elders debating the merits of dark versus milk chocolate. The wheelchair-bound woman pats his arm fondly, calling him "a good boy" in a voice that creaks like old floorboards. Yuuma's chest tightens inexplicably.
"Yuuma-nee, your crane's lopsided," the little boy beside her observes, poking at her clumsy folds. She forces her fingers to move—too stiff, too precise, more suited to adjusting scope sights than paper crafts. The crane collapses under her tension. The children giggle, mistaking her fumbling for playfulness.
"I...I need....to go to the bathroom" The excuse blurted out like a pressure van made to help her get away, to release the pressure weighing on her back. The children tilt their head, looking at her curiously, but never holding her back. Yuuma stands up and leaves the room and into the empty bathroom, she quickly opens the faucet and splash 2 handful of water over her face—each droplet rolling down her cheeks indistinguishable from tears. The mirror reflects her hollowed-out expression—lips pressed into a thin line, pupils constricted to pinpricks.
'What....what do I do?' She asked herself, like all these questions she has been asking from the moment she took this mission, yet this one....is heavier. It wasn't about him anymore, it's about Issei, that innocent boy who just wanted to be a better person, now they have known what he possesses, would their promise with her stand?
Or it will crumble as they rain down this town to capture him, to extract the power he doesn't know exist, to hurt him—she grits her teeth—her reflection distorting under her grip on the sink's edge. 'But why...why do I care? I could just run away, I could just.....' her fist slams down the edge of the sink 'Fuck! Why does it hurt so much.....' A choked noise escapes her throat—halfway between a sob and a snarl—before she slaps both hands over her mouth, muffling the sound of her scream.
Why can't she just let go? She has delivered what she came here to investigate, now it's done, finished, she can go and be free on her own, leaving all of this behind, but why can't she let go? Yuuma—no, Raynare—stares at her dripping reflection in the nursing home's bathroom mirror, her knuckles white against the porcelain sink. The muffled laughter from the common room seeps under the door, a cruel contrast to the storm inside her chest.
A vibration against her thigh makes her flinch. The encrypted burner phone pulses with another message—likely him, demanding confirmation. She doesn't need to read it to know the ultimatum: Extract the Sacred Gear or we kill you. Her fingers hover over the screen, but the image of Issei grinning as he fed that old man chocolate flickers behind her eyelids. The way the children had clung to her skirt like she was someone worth trusting.
She slams the phone against the floor, why do they have to find a way to ruin her life, the happy life here as Yuuma Amano, a normal student doing volunteering work on the side, enjoying the peace and quiet of Kuoh Town, with....with him....her fingers tremble violently—not from fear, but from the sheer weight of the choice before her.
Looking at the phone, she takes a deep breath and picks it up, to make one final call, the number is still fresh from this morning, yet looking at it is like looking at hell fire. Pressing the calling button, she waits until the timer start counting "I've completed my mission, I've told you what I found, my end of the deal is done, leave me alone"
The line crackles—silent for three excruciating seconds—before the voice responds, smooth as poisoned syrup. "Oh, Raynare. Did you really think it'd be that simple?" The mocking lilt makes her stomach twist. "2 words can't trade for your life, little crow, not after you daring putting condition on the table against me"
Yuuma's grip tightens around the sink. "Then what do you want?" Her whisper scrapes raw against her throat.
"Proof." The word lands like a guillotine blade. "Extract that Sacred Gear and hand it over to me, then you'll be free, I will not pursue you any further, nor will I tell Azazel about your...betrayal." A pause, then a chuckle like rusted hinges. "Unless you'd prefer we retrieve it ourselves—along with that boy's spine."
Yuuma's reflection stares back at her—pale, wide-eyed—"What is the difference? Either me or you doing it, he would die the same"
The line crackles again—this time with a sound like bones snapping. "The difference, little crow, is that if you do it..." The voice drops to a whisper, intimate as a blade between ribs. "...you might be able to survive and be free, it was never about the boy, it was about you. I am giving you a way out after all those insolent words you said to me....but if you're too...sentient towards him...maybe you two will die as a couple, how lovely~I will enjoy tearing him apart joint by joint while telling him that his lovely Yuuma was the author of it all, how would he react—"
Yuuma slams the phone into the sink, drowning it like what she wanted to do with the one forcing her to do this, to kill the one who led her into this peaceful life, even if it's just a facade for her mission, he made it real, he made her feel something real—her breath comes in ragged bursts as the water swirls around the shattered device.
A knock at the door jerks her upright. "Yuuma?" Issei's voice filters through, tinged with concern. "You've been in there a while. The kids are asking for you." The innocence in his tone twists something inside her chest.
She scrubs her face with trembling hands, forcing her voice steady. "Be right out." The words taste like ash. When she steps into the hallway, Issei's smile falters at her expression. "Whoa, you look like you saw a ghost."
Yuuma forces a laugh—too sharp, too brittle. "Bad night sleep is all, don't worry, Issei, I'm fine" She adjusts her sleeve cuff with a practiced flick, hiding the tremors in her fingers. The phone's remnants burn in her pocket like a guilty secret.
Issei scratches his head, unconvinced but too polite to press. "Well...if you're sure." He jerks his thumb toward the common room, where the kids have started an impromptu chocolate-themed song.
[Timeskip: Brought to you by chibi Issei and chibi Yuuma walking together]
[Kuoh Academy - Class 2-B]
Aruto comes into his class with Rias and Akeno like usual, but since today is Valentine, something is meant to be different, And there is something different, especially Aruto's desk next to Rias' one "I should have expected it" Aruto comes to his desk, which is stacked with chocolate and confessions from girls from his class and neighboring classes, even from different grades.
"Ah, the yearly Valentine's Day haul." Aruto sighs as he picks up one of the chocolates—a pristinely wrapped box with a lavender ribbon—and flips it over to find a note tucked underneath. To Aruto-senpai, please accept my feelings! The handwriting is neat but trembling slightly, as if the sender had rewritten it multiple times. He pockets it with a wry smile—he'll have Grayfia return it later with a polite refusal.
Another one is from a girl of second year, the card is decorated with little heart stickers, "To Aruto-kun, I've admired you since the moment you came—" He stops reading halfway, sliding it into his bag before Rias can peek over his shoulder.
The Gremory heiress huffs, arms crossed as she eyes the mountain of chocolates with poorly concealed jealousy...until she spots another letter from a female senpai tucked beneath a hand-painted box. Her eye twitches.
"Enjoying your spoils?" Rias' voice is deceptively light, but the crackle of demonic energy in her fingertips tells another story. Akeno, one desk ahead, turns back to them as she opens the choco boxes whose letters Aruto are checking "Woah, delicate, they definitely pour their hearts into it, Golden Boy~" she teases the slightly awkward Aruto, who doesn't seem to know what to do with this much chocolate, and feelings that comes with them
"That's the hard part of it, they all meant it via their words and works, I...." his fingers tapping gently against the letter's paper, thinking of a way to....get himself out of the situation without making the girls who have poured their hearts into these presents sad "Fine, let's play diplomat" he stands up from his seat and gathers all the presents he received and makes his way out of the class.
'This is so embarrasing....and provoking....' he thinks to himself as he moves along the hall of the second floor of the main building in the jealous eyes of the boys who did not receive any choco and the girls who are looking at him like either an idol, or a guy that caught fishes with too many hands 'But it's better than keeping them in class, it would draw attention, and I don't need attention when I am working.'
Arto makes his way downstairs towards the courtyard, making even a bigger scene for himself when he knows for sure the girls who gave him the letters and the chocolate are looking, expecting him to do something about it, ideally....accepting their feelings.
But he doesn't seem to have any of that ideas in mind as he approaches the canteen to meet the staff to...."May I borrow your fridge?" The question got everyone to look at him, confused and surprised, before he elaborates "I want to store them somewhere that won't be melted easily, safe and of course, not distracting because I have to study, can you help me, are there any...spare spaces left?
The lunch lady—a stout woman with flour-dusted sleeves—blinks at the mountain of chocolates in his arms before bursting into laughter. "Ah, the Valentine's curse!" She wipes her hands on her apron, gesturing toward the industrial fridge. "Back corner's free, but don't blame me if love-struck girls come peeking." Arto bows gratefully, the weight of presents shifting precariously as he maneuvers through the kitchen's steam.
After setting them in a safe corner of the freezer, Aruto comes out of the fridge, bowing to the staff "Thank you so much for helping me, these presents meant a lot to the people who made them, and I can't just deny their pure hearts outright, it would be inappropriate and heartless. I will come to fetch them by the end of the school day, so thank you again for your assistance."
The lunch staff exchanged knowing glances—this wasn't the first time they'd seen this scenario unfold, though perhaps never with quite this volume of chocolate. The head chef, a burly man with forearms like tree trunks, clapped Aruto on the shoulder with a chuckle. "Kid, you got the kind of problem most boys here would kill for." He shook his head. "But you're handling it right. Respect the effort, even if you can't return the feelings. That's maturity."
Aruto gave a wry smile. "I wish maturity made it any less awkward." He bows once more before leaving the canteen with the letters 'That's step one, now, answering letters' He looks at each of them, he has written letters to negotiate with devil nobles before, so this won't be a tough task.
Returning to class, he sees Rias and resting her cheek on one palm, looking at him that smuggling face, the next moment, her voice rings inside his ear "You're late for the morning briefing of AFM, dear CEO, everyone is waiting~" He slumps his head forward "Shit" before sitting down next to his secretary.
[Timeskip: Brought to you by chibi Arto being under a pile of chocolate]
[Arto's mansion]
Arto returns home with the chocolate pile that he received today, he has one task to do before sending them back to the sender with a polite decline that would prove his point once and for all so that they won't attempt again.
He heads straight down the Simulation Room, Sector 13: Koneko's kitchen, turns on the time dilation function and borrows the knives set of Koneko for one single mission, he will melt all these chocolate and make statues of the senders before sending back to them with his letter, it's a polite rejection, but in a form of respect—if they give him something made with their hands, he would return the favor.
The first step is sorting—by type, by texture, by additives. He lines them up like an alchemist preparing reagents, then activates the stabilizer pendant to precisely control the melting points. White chocolate requires 45°C, milk 50°, dark 55°—any higher and the cocoa butter separates. He adjusts the pendant's dial with clinical precision, watching each batch liquefy into perfect viscosity.
Rias finds him three hours later (real time: eighteen minutes), sleeves rolled up to his elbows as he pours molten chocolate into custom molds the Sector generated. The air smells like caramelized sugar and exhaustion. "You're remaking them?" She leans against the doorway, arms crossed, but the irritation in her voice is undercut by the way her eyes trace the sweat-damp hair sticking to his forehead.
"Every gram." Arto doesn't look up from the mold "It's quite a jerk of me to throw away what they made with their hearts, and since I don't care about them, I need a way to keep them away forever." He puts a metal chopstick into the mold and vibrates it to whisk away all the air bubbles inside before setting them into the freezer to cool and solidify.
Rias watches the process—the way his fingers move with surgical precision, the exacting tilt of his wrist as he scrapes excess chocolate from the edges. "You could've just said no." She steps closer, her shadow falling across the worktable.
Arto exhales through his nose, adjusting the stabilizer pendant's output. "And break their hearts publicly? That's cruelty disguised as honesty." He taps a freshly unmolded figurine—a miniature version of the third-year senpai who'd included a lock of hair with her confession. The detail is unsettlingly accurate due to the mold.
"And you said you don't care~" she teases as she comes inside, closing the door behind them so that time dilation is once again in motion "You have always been like this, making up reasons and play cold to hide your heroic and caring side" she leans forward onto the counter "But as long as you love us above all else, I don't mind~" a kiss is placed on his cheek.
Arto's hands still mid-pour, dark chocolate suspended between mold and bowl like a frozen ribbon. He inhales sharply—Rias' perfume, that expensive Gremory blend of night-blooming jasmine and something distinctly demonic—before exhaling through his nose. "Heroic is a stretch. This is just..." His fingers twitch, adjusting the stabilizer's flow. "Damage control."
Rias hums, plucking a stray chocolate curl from the counter and popping it into her mouth. "Mm. Keep saying that, Mister Knight-in-Shining-Armor." Her grin sharpens when he scowls at the nickname. The stabilizer pendant pulses brighter as Arto redirects mana flow into the cooling molds—tiny statues now hardening into perfect replicas of each confessor's likeness.
Akeno's laughter precedes her arrival, the kitchen door swinging open as she balances a tray of iced coffee. "Found the workaholic!" She sets the drinks down beside Arto's schematics, eyeing the chocolate army with amusement. "And you said you don't care~"
"Not you too?" Arto groaned, wiping chocolate smears off his forearm as Akeno sidled up next to Rias, both women now flanking him with matching Cheshire grins. Akeno tapped one of the cooling molds with a manicured nail. "You even got the dimple right on Hana-chan's statue. Obsessive detail for someone who 'doesn't care.'" Her smirk widened as Arto's ears turned pink.
Knowing he would lose arguing with them, Arto decides to shut up and continues his work in preparing the chocolate for his senders, "Have you ever thought that after this action of yours....next year would be a bigger choco crisis?" Rias suggests with a grin, leaning back with her arms folded "It would inspire more girls to pour their hearts into it because they saw how sincere you were, rejecting them but returning their favor"
Akeno nods in agreement "Not to mention you crafted their likeness with such detail, it might even boost their affection" she taps her chin "Like a knight who rejected their confession yet gave them something of equal value—oh my, what a gentleman~"
Arto's hands pause mid-air, hovering over the last mold. He blinks once. Twice. Then groans, pressing his forehead against the cool metal countertop. "Goddamn it." Rias pats his back with faux sympathy. "There, there. Just accept that you're tragically charismatic."
[Timeskip: Brought to you by Arto being chased by a bunch of girls]
When Arto is done making the choco for his 'fans', he comes up to his home to see the entire family is waiting for him in the living room, Kiba is already there, taking one of the 2 seats the ladies reserved for him, "Senpai, come sit, the ladies have something to.....present to us"
Arto comes into the living room as 3 shadows tackle him down the ground, it's Robin, Nami and Albedo, who have come home from their trip to other worlds "Master!" Albedo shouts "Boss!" Nami shouts as well "I miss you, love~" Robin seems to be the calmest one, but she is the one hugging him the tightest, pressing his face between her chest.
"Did you three just ambush me the moment I walked through the door?" He muffled Robin's cleavage, struggling to breathe "Yes." Robin answers simply with a smile, tightening her grip "And we will not let go until you accept our Valentine's gift." She tilts her head slightly "Unless you prefer to suffocate here~"
"Okay, okay, let me sit up a little, seriously, how do you expect me to receive presents like this" Albedo reluctantly loosens her grip—though not without a possessive nuzzle against his shoulder—allowing Arto to sit upright just in time for Grayfia to materialize beside them with a tray. The head maid's expression remained neutral, but the faintest twitch of her lips betrayed amusement. "Master," she intoned, presenting three exquisitely wrapped boxes. "The ladies insisted on a formal presentation."
The first gift was from Robin as she gave him something she wrote on her journey with Straw Hat Pirates: a thick book with the title 'One Piece' "The history of the world we came to, from start to current, full, objective, but hasn't quite finished"
Arto traced the embossed letters on the leather-bound tome, the weight of it settling into his palms like an anchor. "You compiled this...for me?" His thumb brushed over the spine where Robin's signature curled—elegant, precise, a contrast to the chaotic ink splatters from Luffy's "contributions" on the dedication page.
Robin's smile softened, her fingers lingering against his as she adjusted his grip. "Every island, every war, every whispered truth the World Government tried to bury, the event called 'Void Centuries', the Will of the D, and the nature of the treasure everyone is looking for, One Piece, it's all in here....But it's not ended, so that we can....go there again one day and see how it ends together." Her voice dropped to a whisper only he could hear. "Consider it an invitation."
"Oh, you can't believe how cute Chopper was, if it's not for Robin, I would have taken him home with us" Nami interjected, waving a polaroid of the reindeer-human hybrid mid-sugar rush. "Look at those cheeks!" She thrust the photo into Arto's face, nearly smacking his nose before he caught her wrist with a chuckle.
Albedo snatched the picture, scrutinizing it with narrowed eyes. "Hmph. Cuteness is irrelevant if he cannot serve the Master's needs." She paused, then grudgingly added, "...though his fur does appear exceptionally soft."
Robin reclaimed the photo with a graceful flick of her fingers. "Now, now, I'm not done. it's Kiba's turn" She turns to Kiba, who is clearly expecting his Valentine+Trip present from Robin "Here" She tosses a small pouch at him—Kiba caught it midair, the fabric crinkling with a metallic clink. Inside were whetstones. "From Wano's finest smiths. They'll keep your blades sharper than dragon teeth."
Kiba tested one against his thumb, eyebrows lifting at the immediate sting. "Damn. These aren't just decorative." Robin's smile deepened. "Oh, and this." She tossed a second pouch—this one heavier. Kiba barely caught it before the contents spilled: a dozen thumb-sized ingots, each shimmering with an otherworldly hue. "Target world's signature metal, used a lot in sword forging, maybe your alchemic workshop need a new material."
Before Kiba could respond, Nami snatched the spotlight with a theatrical flourish, producing a velvet-lined box. "My turn~" She popped it open—inside lay....another book, almost as thick as Robin's one "Another book?"
"Vegapunk's technology," Nami announced, tapping the cover with a smirk. "gotten from Egghead island, not as...advanced as magic-tech, but a good inspiration sourse" She flipped it open to reveal holographic schematics—energy conversion matrices, plasma containment fields—all annotated in her neat, economical script. "Thought you'd appreciate something less...historical." Her grin turned sly as she nudged Robin.
Arto traced the holographic equations, the symbols shifting under his fingertips like liquid mercury. "This is..." His breath caught—Vegapunk's work on artificial Devil Fruits alone could revolutionize Sitri's bioengineering division. "Extraordinary knowledge from another scientist, I like that, I'll read them later. Now, come here" He pulls Nami into his embrace, pressing a kiss on her forehead
Nami's grin widened, even when she is in Arto's embrace, she turns to Kiba "Kiba, here is your present, happy Valentine" She hands him an ornate box, inside is a sword made of chocolate, wrapped in edible gold leaf "For you, since you like swords so much~I had their chef Sanji made it, he is a good one"
Kiba blinked at the chocolate blade, then broke off the hilt with a chuckle. "You're right—this is my type." He took a bite, savoring the dark cocoa blend. "Tell Sanji he's wasted as a chef."
Albedo cleared her throat loudly, her tail flicking impatiently. "Master," she intoned, presenting before him an odachi that was almost as tall as Arto with the height of 180cm "God Slaying Emperor Blade. Claimed from the defeated form of Cocytus, the 5th Floor Guardian of Nazarick after I personally defeated him in an honorable battle." The blade shimmered with trapped frost, its edge humming with residual energy.
Arto's fingers hovered above the blade—close enough to feel the unnatural chill radiating from it—but didn't touch. "You fought a Floor Guardian?" His voice was carefully neutral, but the tension in his jaw betrayed his concern.
Albedo tilted her chin up proudly. "I defeated them all, not missing a single one of them on my expedition to meet my counterpart. He...reminded me a lot of you, Master, a warrior fighting in a blizzard, but to be honest, he is a more honorable warrior than you are."
She smirked as Arto raised an eyebrow at the backhanded compliment. "So I guided him into a traditional duel of Abyssgard Legion like you taught me" She raises her right hand towards him, middle and ring finger stretched out while other retracted, the Mark of Challenger "And he agreed, so we fought with all we had with no magic involved....I won and took the sword"
Arto exhaled sharply through his nose, fingers finally closing around the odachi's hilt. The moment skin met metal, frost spiraled up his forearm in jagged patterns before dissolving into mist. "A powerful sword, I must say"
His grip tightens, the fire in his eyes flares up for a moment as the sword was forced to obey his will, shrinking into a normal katana "I'll store this into Sector 7: Arsenal for future use" he looks up to see Albedo is still holding that hand sign like a true challenge towards the leader of Abyssgard Legion.
Smirking, he made the same gesture towards her, but points the fingers down, a sign of declining, only then Albedo beams with joy and launches herself into Arto's embrace "Miss you and love you, Master~"
"Miss and love you too, Albedo, hope you didn't destroy much in my name" Albedo's wings twitched in indignation as she shows him her tablet, she took pictures of the ones she defeated, each one has a flag of Abyssgard Legion pierced through their defeated form like she was claiming territory for him via conquest "I see you've caused a diplomatic disaster under the name of Abyssgard Legion" Arto sighs as he moves his fingers between pictures
"This is Shalltear, a vampire...." his succubus introduces gleefully as she pointed at the defeated armored girl with a flag pierced through her stomach "A little holy light from the Dyson Crystal I told you about was enough to put her in her place"
Arto's fingers paused mid-swipe. The next image showed a towering insectoid creature frozen crumbled on both knees, its chitinous plates shattered, and its weapons scattered everywhere, a flag of Abyssgard Legion punctured its chest plate, the only thing left in its hand was the sword Albedo just presented him "This is Cocytus? Damn, he looks cool"
Albedo preened at the praise, her tail curling possessively around his wrist. "He fought honorably," she admitted, flipping to the next image—a demonic figure impaled by her flag, his glasses shattered, his face twisted in agony and wounded pride, mouth opened wide like screaming one final curse. "But Demiurge? Disappointing. All strategy, no spine when cornered."
Akeno leaned over Arto's shoulder to see Albedo's victories, her breath warm against his ear. "Such an eventful trip, you killed them all?" She asked, but Albedo shakes her head "No, I just kept them in limbo state, hovering between life and death while I moved on, killing them is....not worth it, I just want to prove that Master's Prime Soldier is stronger"
Arto exhaled sharply—half relief, half exasperation—"Thank you so much for your conquesting story, Albedo, I would love to hear about it another time, now, do you have any present for Kiba?" Albedo thinks for a moment before sticking her tongue out "Sorry, Master, I forgot"
Kiba waved it off with a smirk, tossing the Wano whetstone in the air and catching it effortlessly. "I think I've been spoiled enough today, don't worry, lady Albedo, I don't mind" Albedo turns to hug Kiba "Thank you for your generosity, Kiba, I promise I will get you something on my next trip, or,,,,you can make an order at Atreides atelier for free, anything you want, I will allow it as Baroness Atreides "
Kiba chuckled, ruffling her hair—an act that would've earned anyone else a broken wrist—but Albedo merely huffed, adjusting her mussed strands with mock indignation. "Careful," she warned, though her tail flicked playfully. "That's a Baroness's dignity you're messing with."
Grayfia cleared her throat, materializing beside Arto with a silver tray bearing six delicate cups of matcha tea. "If the conquest stories are concluded," she intoned, her voice drier than the tea leaves, "perhaps we might proceed to the ladies' gifts for Master?" Her gaze flicked meaningfully to Rias and Akeno, who had been waiting with barely restrained impatience.
Rias practically vaulted over the coffee table, nearly upending Koneko's meticulously arranged dessert platter in her haste. "Finally!" She brandished a velvet box with the Gremory crest embossed in gold. "Open mine first." The command brooked no argument, though Akeno's eye roll suggested this had been a point of contention all afternoon.
Arto accepted the box with both hands, noting the slight tremor in Rias' fingers as he lifted the lid. Inside lay a chocolate statue of Arto in his armor, standing in a pose in which he places his hand on the pommel of his land-planted sword—exquisitely detailed down to fabric hood, dented armor plates, sword chips after a long time of using "Woah...."
Rias grinned, her crimson eyes sparkling with anticipation. "Koneko helped me temper the chocolate so it wouldn't melt under the studio lights—took three tries to get the metallic sheen right." She tapped the statue's pauldron, where edible silver leaf caught the light. "And see? The sword's blade is infused with Sitri's mana filament—glows just like yours."
Akeno snorted, elbowing Rias aside with practiced ease. "Show-off." She presented her own box—smaller, but no less intricate. Inside sat a miniature replica of Arto's flaming sword emblem, the sugar glass flames layered so thinly they appeared to flicker. "Mine's functional." Arto gasps in awe as he turns the thing around, letting the light reflected through the blue flame crystal embedded in the center.
Before Arto could respond, Koneko materialized between them with a thud, dropping a heavy box onto his lap. "Happy Valentine." Inside was a cat statue, half white, half black, and when he didn't notice, Kuroka jumps on him, wrapping her arms around his neck "Happy Valentine, Master!"
Arto wheezed as Kuroka's weight knocked the breath from his lungs, her tail flicking smugly against his cheek. "Goddammit—Kuroka, breathe—"
"Oops~" She loosened her grip just enough for him to inhale, but not enough to escape, nuzzling his temple with a purr. "Miss youuu."
Koneko pointed at the chocolate statue with clinical precision. "Edible. Based on genetic analysis of our fur composition ratios—85% cocoa for Kuroka's side, white chocolate with caramel swirls for mine." Her deadpan delivery contrasted with the faint pink tinge on her ears. "Nutritionally balanced."
Akeno cooed, plucking a chocolate whisker from Kuroka's side. "Adorable~ And so detailed!" She popped it in her mouth, humming appreciatively. "Mm—hazelnut undertones?" Rias joins next, plucking the white ear to eat, "Caramel swirl? Not bad"
Koneko nodded stiffly, though her tail twitched at the praise. "Optimal flavor profiles based on individual preference metrics." Kuroka licked Arto's ear, leaving a sticky chocolate smear. "Master should taste mine first~"
Arto sighed—long-suffering but fond—"Alright, let's view Grayfia's present last before we dive into this sweet party" Grayfia nods and gracefully manifests a tea tray before the whole family, and she specifically picks up one tea cup to hand it to him "This is my present for you, Master, Happy Valentine"
The teacup was usual at first glance, the same porcelain he is so familiar with, but it exudes a gentle smell of white chocolate mixed with his favorite tea blend, now cooled and sweetened with sugar and milk—"Chocolate cup, you almost had me fooled, Grayfia. Thank you, my head maid" he takes a sip of the milk tea "Oh, goodness, I never thought it would taste this good....everyone, come and try"
Grayfia's lips curved into the faintest smile as the family descended upon the tray like a pack of well-dressed wolves. Rias claimed the cup nearest to Arto's with a territorial hum, while Akeno snagged one with a delicate sugar lily floating atop—Grayfia's subtle nod to her favored flower. Kuroka, ever the opportunist, dunked Koneko's tail into her cup before the younger nekomata could react, earning a screech and a flying spoon to the forehead.
"Now, everyone, there are a lot of choco left, let's dig in" Arto announces, gesturing to the overloaded dessert platter.
[Timeskip: Brought to you by a chocolate castle slowly running out]
[Kuoh Academy]
As Rias predicted the day before, the school is in a new form of chaos as girls received their chocolate back—sculpted into their likenesses with impossible precision, each accompanied by Aruto Abyga's handwritten note expressing gratitude and gentle refusal. The rumors spread like wildfire by lunchtime, whispered between giggling first-years and flustered seniors alike.
Among the revering appreciations, there are some opinions suggesting Aruto hired Koneko to help him complete this many chocolate sculptures, but that's quickly dismissed by the pastry club who examined the pieces—Koneko's signature style involves feline motifs, while these statues bore Aruto's precise, almost clinical craftsmanship.
A third-year girl clutches her miniature likeness to her chest, whispering to her friends, "He even remembered my hairpin from the cultural festival..." Her voice cracks. Across the courtyard, another group compares notes—every statue had a personalized detail: a sports medal, a signature bracelet, the way one girl always tucked her hair behind her left ear.
Meanwhile, Arto ducks into an empty stairwell, pressing his back against the wall as he massages his temples. "Next year," he mutters to the ceiling, "I'm faking cholera."
Behind him, a familiar chuckle makes him stiffen. "Too late for that~" Rias leans over the railing above, her grin predatory. "They won't let you escape, even the shy ones have found their courage to send you their choco. Well done, politician, you've done well buying more work for your future self."
Arto groaned, sliding down the wall until he sat crumpled on the steps. "I was trying to be respectful," he muttered, plucking at his uniform sleeve. "Not...whatever this is." The distant squeals of another girl discovering her statue echoed down the hallway.
Rias vaulted the railing, landing gracefully beside him with a rustle of fabric. "Mm. And now you've accidentally invented romantic rejection." She flicked his forehead. "Idiot..." She lowers her voice "...my idiot~But I am quite free at the moment, is there anything for me to do?"
"What do you mean? There are tons of things for you to do" Aruto turns to her with questioning look "Look, Robin came back and took over Simulation Room, Nami took over AFM and Albedo took over Atreides clan, suddenly, my work as your secretary disappeared now that you're freer than before" Rias states matter-of-factly while leaning closer to him "So, entertain me"
Aruto sighs, running a hand through his hair. "Fine, I'll entertain you, uhh, have you ever been to Gremory domain's Auction House?" Rias blinked, her teasing smirk faltering for half a second. "The—the what?" Her fingers tightened around his sleeve. "You mean theAuction House? The one..." Her voice dropped.
"Yeah, the one that was closed 20 years ago due to the war between Gremory and Phenex" Arto said calmly with his voice low, trying to keep their voices down "It's re-opening soon because of the rise in political and economic power of Gremory, the King-ranked Houses are establishing it again"
Rias' fingers dug into his forearm, her crimson eyes flickering with something between disbelief and predatory interest. "You're joking." Her voice was barely above a whisper, the kind she reserved for sacred texts and battlefield strategies. "That place was closed before I was born because of the war and the weakening of Gremory, this event will...."
"Indeed, introduce Gremory back to the power board of the Underworld" he confirms before adding "Paimon clan was the first to suggest the re-establishment and might the main house governing the Auction House with other representatives of King Houses like Beleth, Belial and others, I intended to pay a visit, so if you are too free, you can....."
"No, I won't allow it....." Sona Sitri appears behind them with her stern gaze "Don't you dare do that, Aruto, do not take Rias to the Auction House, you know what happened last time we went there...."
Rias interrupted, "No, Sona, I want to go, you had your time with him there...." Sona turns to her red-haired best friend "You don't know what you're asking for, don't follow Aruto into the Auction House, you can't unsee what he taught you there"
Sitri heiress sighs "Seriously, Rias, don't, once you see the deep current under the surface, you won't see the water the same again, and it's annoying, and exhausting knowing that you know the running political dynamics of every clans presenced there"
Rias' fingers twitched against Arto's sleeve—not in hesitation, but in the way a predator's tail flicks before pouncing. "Exactly." Her voice dropped to a velvet murmur. "That's why I have to go." She leaned closer, her breath warm against his jaw. "Teach me."
"You're right, Sona" Aruto nods "I wronged once with you, I showed you too much too soon, I should have known my limit after being scolded by your mother" he turns to Rias "I've changed my mind, I can't let you go, Rias, it's....too much for you, okay? I thought it would be a good date, but...."
Rias's eyes narrowed. "You thought?" She jabbed a finger into his chest, her voice dropping to a hiss. "You don't get to decide what's 'too much' for me. I'm not some porcelain doll—I'm Gremory." Aruto catches her wrist "I know how smart and capable you are, Rias, trust me, I know, I've seen you dealing with nobles in political battles and the way you handle AFM's paperwork, I know your capability, but...."
She yanked free with a sharp twist, crimson mana flickering at her fingertips. "But what?" The stairwell lights dimmed under her gathering power. "You'll take Sona crawling through black-market flesh pits but I need protecting?"
"No, I know you can handle it, and because I know you can handle it I can't let you go, it's not worth sacrificing your world view for some intels," Arto said, his voice dropping low as he leans closer but he knows he has said the wrong words "Intels?" Rias tilts her head.
The stairwell's fluorescent lights flickered as Rias' pupils dilated—a predator catching the scent of deception. Sona exhaled sharply through her nose, pinching the bridge of her glasses. "Idiot," she muttered under her breath.
Rias's eyes narrow even more, like trying to dissect her lover "Tell me, Arto," she calls his true name "What is with 'intels' and Auction House?" Arto exhaled sharply through his nose—a tell Rias recognized from countless chess matches. "The Auction House," he began carefully,
"isn't just about buying relics or rare beasts or peerage members. It's... a neutral ground where King-ranked Houses govern arrays of deals between clans, where noble clans display their attitude towards other houses, making deals behind the Satans' back with only a small cut for the house, or where information brokers trade secrets. The way nobles bid, the items they prioritize, the alliances they form—it's all data." His fingers twitched, as if already sorting through imaginary files. "Data that predicts political shifts."
Sona's heel clicked against the stairwell floor. "That does it, Aruto, now she would want to see that place more than before" The Sitri heir groaned, rubbing her temple like she could already foresee the impending headache. "Congratulations, you just made it worse."
Rias's fingers curled into Arto's uniform, her knuckles whitening. "Show me." Not a request—a demand. The kind that left no room for negotiation. Her pupils had contracted to pinpricks, the way they did when she dissected an opponent's weakness mid-battle. "You knew. You knew all along what really happens there, and you hid it from me."
Arto exhaled through his nose, his gaze flicking to Sona in silent apology before meeting Rias's burning stare. "I hid it," he admitted, voice low, "because the Auction House isn't just data. It's a theater. A stage where nobles perform their loyalty, their grudges, their ambitions—all masked as commerce." His thumb brushed her wrist, a silent plea. "Once you see it, you can't unsee the strings."
Rias's grip loosened—just enough for her fingers to trail up his chest and hook into his collar. "Then teach me to cut them." The whisper sent a shiver down his spine. "Or better yet—pull them."
Sona's groan echoed off the stairwell walls. "Rias, stop, please, stop," She comes over to her best friend, holding her shoulders firmly. "I know you're curious, I know you're studious. But look at me, look into my eyes, and listen to me, Rias. I've been there once with Aruto, and he taught me, show me, guided me to read the political and influence currents, and I can't unsee them, it shift my world view into this twisted, doubtful state of mind, I always calculate every move, every word, every glance from noble houses, I can't enjoy noble balls anymore because I know what they're doing, what they're trying to achieve behind the curtains of dances and wine"
Rias' eyes stay steady on Sona's. "That's exactly why I need to see it." Her voice dropped to a whisper, the kind that slithered between ribs to grip the heart. "If you both know this—if everyone in power knows—then I'm already blindfolded in a game where everyone else sees the board." She leaned closer, her breath hot against his lips. "Take. Me. There."
Arto exhaled sharply—"It's too soon for you to see, Rias, you're still a student, don't burden yourself with the world view that will make you live less happy than you deserve" Rias releases his collar to flick his forehead "You're such a hypocrite, you taught Sona last summer"
"That's how quick it is to ruin a person's perspective on the world they are living in" Sona said "One session with him and now I have to pretend to be blind sometimes, I hate it" She adjusts her glasses "And you, Rias, you are still young, like me, you have a lot of time, don't waste your innocence like that"
Rias' lips curled into a dangerous smile—the kind that made lesser men wet themselves. "Innocence?" She scoffed, flicking her hair over one shoulder. "The moment I became heir, innocence was a luxury I couldn't afford. And you—" She jabbed his chest. "You don't get to decide when I'm ready. I need to see the strings before someone uses them to hang me."
The stairwell's fluorescent lights buzzed ominously as Aruto sighs "I'll take you there, but under one condition, your parents allow you to go, otherwise, no" He grabs her wrist "That's final, Rias"
Sona adjusts her glasses "She's not going to like that" Rias' crimson eyes flash with rebellion—then settle into something more calculated. "Fine." Her fingers trail down his arm in a mockery of surrender. "But when Mother approves—and she will—you're showing me everything." The way she lingered on the last word sent a prickle down Arto's spine before she heads to class
Sona massages her temples "Are you sure her parents would disapprove this?" Arto doesn't turns "I hope, they allowed the Auction House to be in business again because of its intels value, they know what's in there and like your mother, they will know what's best for her"
[Timeskip: Brought to you by chibi Rias making a call to her mother]
[Arto's mansion - Rias's Room]
"Mother, I want to go to the Auction House" Rias said through her phone to her mother Venelana Gremory, sitting on her bed, legs swinging like a child asking for candy "Arto says no" She pouts "But I am the heiress, I need to see what's happening there"
A pause. The silence stretches long enough for Rias to start worrying she'd crossed a line, until—"Ah." Venelana's voice crackles through the speaker, thick with something Rias can't place—amusement? Resignation? "So he finally told you."
Another pause. Rias hears the clink of porcelain in the background—her mother's favorite tea set, the one with silver filigree. "Darling, it's a dangerous place," Venelana murmurs. "not for your well-being, but for your mind and mental state." The admission is soft, almost reluctant. "Some doors shouldn't be opened so soon."
Rias grips the phone tighter, her nails biting into the casing. "But Sona went." The protest slips out before she can stop it—petulant, childish. She winces. A dry chuckle crackles through the receiver. "Sena told me about it, it was an unintentional action of Arto, he didn't know better then." Venelana's voice lowers, the ambient clinking ceasing. "Do you know what Sona saw there?"
The mattress dips as Rias leans forward. "Tell me." A sigh. The sound of a chair scraping. "She saw via Arto's teaching the currents under the water, darling—the way Phenex nobles bid on fleshcrafted slaves not for pleasure, but to test loyalty thresholds. How Belial representatives purchase fallen angel intel not for war, but to blackmail their own allies." Venelana's teacup clinks—too sharp. "She learned that auction paddles are weapons, and every gavel strike is a declaration of war."
Rias's fingers tighten around her phone case until the plastic creaks. Outside her window, Kuroka's shadow slinks past—probably hunting for Arto's discarded chocolate molds. "Then I have to learn." Her whisper is hoarse. "If even Sona—"
"Especially because Sona learned." Venelana's interruption is gentle but absolute. "That girl hasn't enjoyed a single ball since. She analyzes every toast, every dance, every—" A pause. A slow exhale. "You'll inherit Gremory's seat regardless. Let yourself be young first."
Rias's free hand fists in her skirt. "I am young." The words taste like ash. "And naive. And—" "That's the beauty of it, you're still naive, the world in your eyes is still beautiful, it allows you to be merciful, to be kind, to be..." Venelana pauses, searching for the right word "...human."
The silence stretches. Somewhere downstairs, Akeno laughs—bright and unburdened. The sound twists something in Rias's chest. "Mother." Rias's voice cracks. "What if mercy gets my people killed?" The question hangs between them—too large for the pink-walled bedroom, for the scattered textbooks on her desk.
Venelana exhales. "That's not the matter for you to worry about now, you have Arto, me and your Papa to help you, you'll learn as time progresses, but don't push it because once you step, you can't go back anymore." Her voice softens—the tone reserved for tucking Rias in after childhood nightmares. "Let yourself trust us a little longer."
Rias's grip loosens, her fingers uncurling from her skirt. The fabric bears crescent-shaped wrinkles from her nails. "But—"
"No 'buts', darling." Venelana's teacup clinks—a punctuation mark. "Enjoy being courted. Let Arto handle the shadows for now. You'll have decades to stare into the abyss later."
Downstairs, a door slams. Arto's muffled voice carries up the staircase, arguing with Grayfia about freezer space for Koneko's latest chocolate batch. The mundane domesticity of it makes Rias's chest ache.
"...Fine." She forces the word out, rolling onto her back to stare at the ceiling. Her phone digs into her ear. "But when I do inherit—" "You will be ready by then, my little lioness." The call disconnects with a soft click.
Rias flings the phone onto her bed as she throws herself into the soft mattress, groaning into her pillow. 'They treated me like a kid again'—the thought tasted bitter, clawing at her throat. "Rias?" Arto's voice rings from the other side of the door, worrying "May I come in?"
The door creaks open before she can answer—because of course it does. Arto comes into her room, comes to her bed and out of nowhere, turns himself into his wolf form and jumps on her bed, cuddling her as she groans and rolls away "Go away, I'm still mad at you" she mutters into the pillow.
Arto—now a massive silver-furred wolf with eyes like a dark ocean—flops onto his side with a dramatic whine, pressing his cold nose against her bare shoulder. Rias shrieks, flailing. "You—! That's cheating!" She grabs a pillow and smacks him with it, but he just rolls onto his back, paws in the air, tongue lolling. The sight is so absurd she nearly laughs—and hates herself for it.
"You know I just wanted good things for you" The wolf said as Rias starts rubbing his belly, making his tail wagging in comfort, a stark contrast to the the content of their conversation, she continues rubbing his belly in silence before answering "I know, but I hate being treated like a kid, especially by you"
The wolf huffs—an oddly human sound for a creature his size. "Look, compared to a 3000 years old geezer like me, you're a newborn, Rias." His tail thumps against the comforter. Rias digs her fingers into his fur, hard enough to make him yelp. "Don't deflect." Her voice cracks. "You showed Sona."
Arto turns his body and with a push of his back legs, he tackles her into lying position, his wolf head resting on her chest "I was reckless with Sona," he admits. "She didn't see the world the same any longer, instead of seeing genuine goodwill, she thought of benefits, calculating potential losses and gains. And I regretted it—every time she hesitates before laughing at a joke, every time she questions if someone's kindness is genuine." His paw trace her jaw, calloused but gentle. "I won't make that mistake with you, Rias"
Rias' fingers freeze mid-scratch. The wolf's heartbeat thrums against her ribs—steady, relentless. Like tides eroding cliffs. "But that's just it," she murmurs. "You're protecting me from the very thing I need to understand. What good is an heiress who can't navigate shadows?"
Arto's ears flatten. A growl rumbles deep in his throat—not anger, but frustration. "You will learn." His muzzle brushes her collarbone. "Just not like this. Not yet." half-truths. Because the deeper truth coils between them, unspoken: he is afraid what she'll become when stripped of that last innocence.
Rias exhales sharply through her nose—the same way her mother does when chess moves don't unfold as planned. The wolf's fur smells like ozone and old books, a scent that usually soothes her. Now it just makes her chest ache. "You keep saying 'not yet,'" she mutters, digging her fingers into his scruff. "But you never say when."
She looks at him straight in the eyes "Tell me when, Arto, tell me when I am ready to know, to learn, to see" Her fingers tighten in his fur, not enough to hurt, but enough to make her point clear. The wolf's tail stops wagging. His ears twitch—left, then right—like he's listening to something beyond the room.
Arto shifts back to human form, his weight settling carefully over her. The sudden closeness makes Rias' breath catch. He braces one forearm beside her head, his other hand cradling her jaw. "When you stop looking at me to learn how to be a leader," he murmurs, thumb brushing her lower lip. "When found your own way on the foundation I taught you—without copying my steps."
Rias blinks. The answer is so simple it stings. Her fingers unclench from his shirt. "But your way works," she protests weakly. "It does," he agrees, leaning down until their foreheads touch. "But it shouldn't be your way, we said it once, I was a war leader, I lead warriors to survive, to achieve victory, you're a clan leader, you lead a clan to prosper, our paths are different." His exhale ghosts over her lips. "And I need to see you forge your own path before I drown you in mine."
"Do you know why my legion stood even if I was basically a tyrant?" Arto's voice dropped to a whisper, his fingers tracing the curve of her ear with deliberate slowness. Rias felt the weight of centuries in that touch—a history she could taste but not yet swallow. "Because 1.They were a bunch of outcasts with nowhere left to go, Abyssgard was the only place that accepts them, all their crimes, mistakes, imperfections, and Abyssgard made good use of them, giving them a role, a purpose that was taken from them."
"2.They all have something to protect, to 'gard' against the 'Abyss'" Arto continues, the fire in his eyes burning again "They all knew for certain that if they Abyss won, what they hold dear will perish, so they stayed loyal and assisted the fortification of the walls against the Abyss, knowing they are protecting what they cherish, knowing that if they won, they can protect what they love, it was never loyalty to begin with, it was a common goal they all have"
"3.They were afraid of me" Rias' breath hitched. The admission landed between them like a dropped blade—cold, sharp, undeniable. Arto's fingers stilled against her cheek, his thumb pressing lightly into the hollow beneath her eye. "Like livestock fearing slaughter," he clarified, voice rough. "They were facing a living weapon that had eradicated all political forces controlling it in a bloody purge to take the total ruling power, fear was my initial and official governing tool"
She swallowed hard. The wolf scent clinging to him—suddenly felt suffocating. His pupils had dilated, swallowing the blue of his irises until only pinpricks of light remained. Rias recognized that look. It was the same predatory stillness he'd worn when dismantling Riser's pride without lifting a finger. "3 factors, a bunch of outcasts that have something to protect bowing before a weapon they can't defeat, made Abyssgard Legion stand." His breath warmed her lips. "Now tell me—what happens when an heiress raised on ballroom etiquette and clan diplomacy tries to replicate that?"
Rias's fingers twitched against his chest. The answer lodged in her throat like a shard of glass—because she knew. Gremory wasn't a legion of exiles. Her people weren't clinging to her out of desperation. They'd kneel out of loyalty, yes, but never terror. And the moment she tried to wield fear like a blade—"I don't want to be that kind of leader"
"Exactly" He places a kiss on her forehead "Don't be a leader like me, be a better one, let your brain learn what is valuable from me, but lead with your heart also" The words settled between them like snowfall—soft, inevitable.
Rias stared up at him. For the first time, she noticed the tension in his jaw, the fine tremor in his fingers where they cupped her face. He wasn't just protecting her innocence. He was terrified of staining it.
Rias exhaled sharply—then hooked a leg around his waist and flipped them over in one smooth motion, straddling his hips. Arto's surprised grunt was immensely satisfying. "Fine," she declared, pressing her palms flat against his chest. "But if I'm forging my own path—" Her nails dug in just enough to make him hiss. "—you don't get to complain when I drag you along."
Arto blinked. Then—slowly, dangerously—his lips curled into a smile that showed teeth. "Deal, because regardless, you're stuck with your future husband anyways." The words were playful, but his fingers circled her wrists like manacles.
"But I still want to go to that Auction House," Rias said "If only you don't look too hard, and we focus on the values of the artifacts instead of whatever is behind it, cool?" Arto places his condition "Fine," Rias acquiesced with a roll of her eyes. "But I'm buying something scandalously expensive." His laughter shook them both. "With whose money, princess?"