Himika was there on the first step of her modest home, wrapped in a large plush blanket. Her emerald eyes caught what little light managed to slip through the city's smog, watching him with an expression full of uncertainty.
"She's beautiful," Himika finally whispered, a mix of admiration and bashfulness in her voice, gesturing toward Hrist, who remained resting across Devyus' lap. "The color of the sheath… and the way the blade glows crimson even with so little light… it's really beautiful."
The spirit of the Reiken—visible only to its wielder—watched her from the inner dreamscape, the elegant and deadly specter of the blade resting quietly across the incubus' legs.
Devyus saw how the spirit of his sword flushed faintly at the girl's sincere compliment. Hrist's eyes widened, and she glanced away with an awkward little pout before dissolving into a soft crimson glimmer and returning to her Reiken.
"Thank you," Devyus replied on her behalf, his tone softer than usual as he sheathed the blade and let the shadows store it away. "Everything alright?" he asked, turning the question to the girl.
She nodded, nervously toying with the edge of her blanket, shifting her weight side to side.
"May I?" she asked quietly, pointing to the empty step beside him on the cold rooftop.
Devyus hesitated for only a fraction of a second. He knew his sisters inside were far from truly asleep. Their demon senses had surely noticed Himika leaving, but they had already judged there was no threat. If anything happened, they would react in a heartbeat.
"Go ahead," he said, inclining his head slightly and adjusting his meditative posture.
Himika sat down beside him, scooting just close enough to share the warmth of his presence. She loosened the blanket and wrapped part of it around him, draping it across his back.
The incubus noticed immediately—her sleep shorts revealed more of her thighs than she likely meant to, and from this angle, the loose collar of her shirt exposed the soft violet skin above her chest.
Heat surged through him, and before he could stop it, a thin trickle of blood slid from his nose.
"You're weird," Himika said, unable to stop a small smile from appearing. "Though I guess I shouldn't talk, being the only girl in the city with this skin color." She gestured to herself with self-deprecating irony. "Sometimes you look like stone. Completely unreadable. And then other times… you're surprisingly easy to read."
"Sorry," Devyus muttered, wiping the blood away, cursing his own instinctive incubus reactions.
"No, it's fine," she murmured, voice gentle. "It's… kind of cute."
He turned his gaze away, feeling a warmth that had nothing to do with blood.
"So," he tried again, voice steadier this time, "what brings you out here? Why leave the warmth of your home to sit out in the cold with me?"
Himika hugged her legs to her chest.
"I couldn't sleep. I've been trying for a while. And… I thought maybe I'd talk with you. It's been so long since I've had someone to talk to. People tend to avoid me—" she gestured to her own skin again, "—because of this."
"They're the ones losing out," Devyus replied immediately, and the conviction in his tone was genuine even to him.
She looked at him then—really looked—and a soft, real smile warmed her face.
"You know… thank you."
"For what?" he asked, aware of how fast his heart was beating.
"Not just for the thing with Big Dumb," she said, using her own mocking nickname for the brute. "But because… in just these few hours, I've felt something I haven't felt in years."
"And that is?" he asked, breath held without realizing it.
"Hope," she whispered.
The word settled between them like a stone in still water.
Devyus felt something twist inside him—something like disappointment, though he couldn't say why.
"Hope?" he echoed.
"Yes." She looked out at the polluted skyline. "I think this is the first time in a long, long time that anyone in this city has been able to say that word and mean it."
"And why hope?" he pressed softly.
"Because I feel… safe," she confessed. "Even if it's temporary. Even if it doesn't last. It feels good to feel this way, even for a moment. Like… a moonbeam managing to break through all this smog."
He nodded. "If that's how it is, Toshi-san—"
"Himika," she corrected, gently. "Please. Call me Himika."
"Alright… Mika," he said, trying a more familiar form of her name.
She didn't correct him this time.
Instead, with a small breath of courage born only from exhaustion and vulnerability, Mika slid her hand into his, fingers intertwining.
Devyus froze. For all his millennia of experience, this—this small, quiet gesture—was something he was entirely unprepared for.
Then she leaned against him, resting her head on his shoulder, her breathing already slow and heavy with retreating sleep.
"Do you mind if I stay like this… a little while?" she murmured.
"N-Not at all, Mika-chan," he managed.
Carefully—almost clumsily—he lifted his free hand and began to gently stroke her pink hair, avoiding the horn-shaped buns so as not to disturb her.
Her next word dissolved into soft, peaceful breathing.
She had fallen asleep.
He stayed like that, holding her. Letting her rest against him.
Feeling her warmth, the fragile peace of the moment.
And for a long time, he simply watched her.
Watched the broken ex-heroine of a broken city breathe quietly beside him.
He looked out at the decayed skyline, and for a moment—he wondered.
If he had arrived sooner.
If he had been someone else.
If he had ever been meant to protect, and not devour.
His sisters depended on him.
His empire-in-the-making depended on him.
And now—this girl, too.
In his mind, he almost heard her calling him something impossible.
A hero.
He shut the thought down like a blade through the chest.
No.
He was not that.
He was not that.
But for the first time—
the word tasted bitter.
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