The afternoon was crisp and clear as Arto and Koneko walked the quiet streets of Kuoh, paper bags of carefully packed ice cream swinging gently in Arto's hand. The parlor had been a revelation to him—rows upon rows of colorful tubs, the cold sweetness melting on his tongue during the tasting session. In the end, he'd settled on mint: cool, bright, and surprisingly refreshing.
Koneko walked beside him in comfortable silence, occasionally licking her own chocolate cone.
"You seriously haven't had ice cream in your life?" she asked again, voice flat but curious.
Arto shook his head, watching his breath fog in the chill air.
"Where I lived… resources were for survival, not comfort. The Abyss border was cold, barren. One mistake and you died. All food was rationed—dense, tasteless, but it kept you alive. No one had time or materials for sweets. We were always on alert. War never really ended."
Koneko glanced up at him, golden eyes unreadable. "Your family had it rough, huh?"
Arto's gaze softened, distant. "I'd call them my legion. But in some ways… family. Not blood, but comrades. We cared for each other on the battlefield—watched backs, shared rations, dragged the wounded to safety. In peace…" He shrugged. "We weren't close. There wasn't much peace."
Koneko tilted her head. "Not blood-related?"
"No. Abyssgard was a refuge. For the abandoned—orphans, exiles, criminals, outcasts. Anyone the world threw away. We took them in. Didn't judge origins. Slave, noble, thief, murderer—it didn't matter. There was always a place for you."
He spoke matter-of-factly, but pride threaded through his words. "That's why our army was feared. We used everyone's strengths. A thief became an assassin—stealth honed into a weapon. A fallen noble handled finances—their knowledge made us one of the richest forces on the continent. Generals planned strategy. We rarely lost wars."
Koneko nodded slowly. "Interesting story. President would keep you up all night listening to more."
Arto chuckled. "I believe it."
They rounded the corner, and the ice cream parlor's bright sign came into view—larger than Arto expected, with colorful banners and a constant stream of customers. "Wow," he said, stopping to stare. "A whole store just for ice cream?"
Koneko tugged his sleeve. "Come on. Let's figure out what you like."
Inside, the cold, sweet scent enveloped them. Arto moved from tub to tub with quiet wonder, sampling small spoonfuls under Koneko's patient guidance. After careful consideration, he chose mint—its clean, bright flavor earning a rare, pleased smile.
Now, walking home with bags of everyone's favorites (matcha for Rias, strawberry for Akeno, vanilla for Kiba, extra chocolate for Koneko), they were nearly back when a distraught woman hurried up, holding out a flyer. "Have you seen a cat like this?" she pleaded, showing a photo of a fluffy white Persian. "Please."
Arto shook his head politely. "Sorry, no."
Koneko echoed, "Me neither."
Arto gently took the flyer anyway. "We'll call if we spot her. Don't worry."
The woman's eyes filled with gratitude. "Thank you so much." She hurried off.
Koneko gave him a flat stare. "You just gave us extra work on a Sunday afternoon. We were supposed to relax."
Arto's expression turned mischievous—an unfamiliar look on his usually calm face. He turned the flyer so she could see the reward line.
Koneko's golden eyes widened. "1 million yen?!"
"Big money, yes?" Arto grinned. "We drop the ice cream in the fridge, then go cat-hunting. 50/50 split?"
Koneko glanced around to make sure no one was listening, then pressed a finger to her lips in a quick "shhh" gesture. "50/50," she agreed, already scanning the street for white fur.
Side by side, the ancient warrior and the petite Rook set off—not for battle this time, but for the far more important mission of locating one very expensive lost cat.
After stashing the ice cream safely in the clubhouse freezer, Arto and Koneko followed the address on the flyer to a sprawling mansion on the outskirts of Kuoh—three stories of elegant stone and glass, surrounded by manicured gardens that could have swallowed the entire school grounds. No wonder the reward was a casual million yen.
A distressed woman in her late thirties greeted them at the door, eyes red from crying. She led them into a lavish sitting room and immediately produced a small basket of cat belongings: tiny sweaters, feather toys, and a sandbox still carrying faint litter scent.
"Here are some things that belong to my baby," she said, voice trembling. "I've hired professional tracking dogs—nothing. Please…"
Arto knelt politely. "When was your cat last seen?"
"Three days ago," she sobbed. "It was my son's birthday. I gave Snowflake a beautiful new necklace as a gift—silver with a blue gem. The next morning, he was just… gone. I checked every camera—nothing. No break-in, no open windows. He vanished."
Koneko's golden eyes narrowed slightly, but she remained silent.
"We'll do our best," Arto promised. Koneko nodded beside him.
Outside again, Arto took the long string of wool the cat loved to chase and inhaled deeply, committing the scent to memory.
Koneko watched him with flat skepticism. "Professional dogs failed. What makes you think this'll work?" Arto's lips curved faintly. "They're professionals… but not magical ones."
Before Koneko could respond, pale silver light rippled over Arto's body. Muscle and bone shifted fluidly; in seconds, a large gray wolf stood where the man had been—tall at the shoulder, thick-furred, with the same dark blue eyes.
Koneko's eyes widened—the most expression she'd shown all day. The wolf shrank smoothly to the size of a large dog, shook itself once, then looked up at her with a canine equivalent of a grin.
Koneko stared. "…How?"
"Senjutsu training," Arto's voice came from the wolf's throat, slightly deeper but unmistakable. "I can take wolf form freely. Heightened senses are useful. Though the sudden smell overload can be… intense."
Koneko's ears (hidden beneath her hair) twitched with sudden interest. Senjutsu… maybe he could help me control mine… She pushed the thought aside. "Did you get the scent?"
"More than that." Arto's nose twitched. "There's magic on the necklace—teleportation residue. Strong, chaotic bursts. The traces are scattered all over town, appearing and vanishing in fragments."
Koneko's eyes narrowed. "The birthday gift… accidental teleportation spell?"
"Exactly. Someone—maybe a well-meaning relative—gave a necklace enchanted for short-range jumps. The cat's wearing it, so every time the spell triggers, he blips somewhere new."
Arto's ears suddenly perked. Koneko noticed a second later—a faint pulse of magic flaring, then winking out. "That's why no footage," she murmured. "He's not kidnapped."
"He escaped on his own," Arto confirmed. "And keeps randomly teleporting around Kuoh."
They bought a detailed street map from a nearby convenience store. Koneko spread it on a park bench while Arto—in wolf form again—methodically sniffed the air, marking each faint magical echo with a careful paw print in washable marker.
Hundreds of dots later, Arto shifted back to human, kneeling beside the map. His brow furrowed in concentration as he connected the marks—drawing lines, noting intervals, sketching arcs.
Half an hour of silent calculation passed.
Finally, he tapped a sequence of locations with confidence. "Here next… then here… here… and finally—" His finger landed on a small park three blocks away. "—there. We have about five minutes before the next jump. If we remove the necklace the moment he appears, the spell should stop. It only activates when worn."
Koneko folded the map with crisp efficiency, golden eyes gleaming with rare excitement. "Let's move."
Arto and Koneko sprinted toward the mall's central fountain—the first predicted location. Shoppers parted in surprise as a tall young man and a petite white-haired girl dashed past.
They arrived just in time to see a flash of white fur materialize on the fountain's edge. "There!" Koneko shouted.
She lunged—leaping clear over the water—but the cat blinked out of existence a split second before her hands closed around it. Momentum carried her straight into the fountain with a spectacular splash.
Koneko surfaced, soaked from head to toe, water streaming from her hair and uniform. Her golden eyes narrowed in rare frustration. "We need to be faster."
Arto was already unfolding the map. "Got it. Take this—call directions."
Silver light rippled over him. This time the gray wolf that appeared was larger—built for speed and strength, easily big enough to carry a passenger. He turned his lupine head to her. "Hop on. We don't have much time."
Koneko hesitated only a heartbeat—dripping wet and determined—then vaulted onto his broad back, gripping fur tightly.
They skipped the second predicted spot entirely, racing straight for the third: a quiet public park a few blocks away.
Arto's paws thundered over pavement and grass, wind whipping past. Koneko clung on, shouting turns when needed.
They burst into the park just as the cat materialized on a low branch.
But the moment Snowflake caught sight—and smell—of a massive wolf charging toward him, his fur puffed in terror. He bolted, scrambling up trees and across branches before vanishing in another chaotic blink.
Arto skidded to a halt, shifting back to human mid-stride. "Dammit."
Koneko slid off his back, wringing out her soaked sleeves. "You sit out the next one. Your wolf scent scares him. Just get me there fast—I'll handle the cat."
She fixed him with a serious stare. "But promise you won't look while I'm dealing with him. Got it?"
Arto raised one hand solemnly. "Promise." Then, with a small lupine grin, he shifted one foreleg back to human long enough to offer a pinky swear with his wolf paw.
Koneko hooked her pinky around the pad of his paw and shook once. "Keep it, okay?"
Next destination: Kuoh Academy—second floor, an empty classroom.
Sunday meant the school was deserted. Perfect. Arto—back in human form—stood guard on the first-floor landing, senses alert for any stray staff or students. Koneko climbed the stairs alone, moving silently.
She reached the predicted classroom and waited. A soft pop of displaced air. Snowflake appeared on a sunlit desk, looking bewildered and ruffled.
Koneko took a slow, steady breath. White cat ears sprouted from her hair. A matching fluffy tail unfurled behind her. Her golden eyes softened, posture relaxing into something instinctively feline and non-threatening.
The Persian froze, stared… then cautiously approached, curiosity overriding fear. He sniffed her outstretched hand, rubbed his cheek against her fingers, and finally leapt into her arms with a small, relieved mew.
Koneko cradled him gently, fingers quickly finding the clasp of the silver necklace with its faintly glowing blue gem. One click, and it came free.
The chaotic magical aura vanished instantly. Snowflake purred, nuzzling her chin. Koneko allowed herself the tiniest smile, ears and tail retracting as she shifted back to full human appearance.
Arto waited at the bottom, leaning against the railing. The moment he saw them, his face lit up with genuine relief and pride. "Yesss! You did it, Koneko!"
He stepped forward with open arms, ready to sweep her into a celebratory hug.
Koneko's golden eyes narrowed. "NO." She held up one hand like a stop sign. "You're sweaty. No huggy."
Arto froze mid-reach, arms comically outstretched, then dropped them with an exaggerated sad-puppy expression. "…Okay."
Koneko studied him for a second, then raised her small palm.
Arto's face brightened instantly. He high-fived her with gentle enthusiasm—careful not to jostle the cat. Together, they returned to the mansion. The owner flung the door open before they even reached the steps, tears already streaming. "Oh my God—thank you, thank you so much! My baby!"
She scooped Snowflake into her arms and hugged him tightly, burying her face in his fur. The cat's expression shifted to mild annoyance, one ear flicking in silent protest. "Where did you find him?" she asked, voice thick with emotion.
Arto answered smoothly, expression calm. "We tracked him to a black market ring. The kidnappers were after the necklace—it had value they recognized. We rescued him, but the necklace was already gone."The lie came easily—better she not worry about accidental magic or random teleportation across town.
The woman's eyes filled again, but with gratitude this time. "It's okay—the necklace doesn't matter. He's home."
She reached into a drawer and pulled out a thick envelope, pressing it into Arto's hands. "Here. You deserve every yen." Arto opened it and blinked. "Two million?"
"You two did what no one else could," she said firmly. "Those 'professional' agencies I hired cost far more—and delivered nothing."
Arto bowed respectfully. "Thank you, ma'am. Truly." Outside the gates once more, under the late-afternoon sun, Arto pulled out half the stack and offered it to Koneko. "Here—one million, as promised."
Koneko glanced at the money, then shook her head. "You keep it. I'm not good with money. I usually let President handle mine anyway." She met his eyes, voice quiet but certain. "When I need some, I'll ask you. Same as her."
Arto hesitated, then tucked the full amount away with a soft smile. "Then don't hesitate, okay? Ever." Koneko gave the smallest upward twitch of her lips—her version of a warm grin. "You know it."
[Timeskip: Brought to you by chibi Arto and chibi Koneko sitting side by side and eating ice cream]
The clubhouse was bathed in the soft orange glow of evening as Arto pushed open the door, still smelling faintly of air and exertion from the cat rescue. His hair was windswept, shirt clinging slightly from the run.
Before he could even kick off his shoes, Akeno appeared—like a violet-eyed storm—throwing her arms around him in a tight, enthusiastic hug. "Welcome home, darling~" she purred, nuzzling against his shoulder without a care for the sweat. "You're all warm and heroic. I missed you."
Arto stiffened for half a second in surprise, then relaxed, patting her back lightly. "I'm sweaty," he warned.
"I noticed," she said, not letting go. "And you should go shower right now, because…" She pulled back just enough to meet his eyes, smile turning mischievous and promising. "…we're having a date tonight~" Arto blinked. "We are?"
"Of course." Akeno tapped his chest playfully. "How else am I supposed to get to know my favorite ancient knight properly? Go put on something nice. This will be an unforgettable night for both of us."
She released him with a wink and a little sway of her hips as she walked away. Arto stood there for a moment, processing, then shook his head with a small, amused smile and headed for the bathroom.
Twenty minutes later, he stepped out—hair damp and tousled, skin still warm from the hot water, a towel wrapped low around his waist. Droplets traced lazy paths down his scarred chest and abs. "Man, that was refreshing," he said to the empty hallway, rolling his shoulders. "All the tiredness just—"
He stopped. Akeno stood waiting, leaning against the wall in nothing but a towel of her own—white, snug, and barely reaching mid-thigh. Her long raven hair spilled loose over her shoulders, still slightly damp at the ends, and her violet eyes gleamed with open invitation.
She pushed off the wall and approached slowly, deliberately swaying her hips with every step. Arto's gaze stayed locked on her face—steady, stoic, not once drifting lower despite the obvious effort she was putting in.
Akeno closed the distance until they were inches apart. Her fingers trailed lightly along the ridges of old scars across his chest, voice dropping to a sultry purr. "So manly…" She sighed in appreciation. "Too bad you've already showered. Maybe next time we can do it together? I always need someone strong to help with my back… and these stiff shoulders."
She pressed forward, soft curves molding against his bare chest as she let out a satisfied little hum. "This already takes some weight off~"
Arto remained perfectly still, expression calm—though a faint pink touched the tips of his ears. "Don't you have Rias for this kind of thing?" he asked, voice even.
Akeno laughed softly, breath warm against his skin. "Rias is too gentle. No matter how many times I beg her to use more strength, she holds back. I need firm, strong hands…" She caught one of his hands in both of hers, guiding it briefly to her shoulder before letting go. "…like yours, Mr. Knight. Will you help a poor, aching girl out sometime?"
Arto looked down at her—really looked—dark blue eyes warm with understanding and just a hint of playfulness.
He leaned in until their faces were close, voice low and smooth. "Fine, fine. I'll help you… sometime."
His free hand rose to brush a damp strand of hair from her cheek, thumb lingering just a moment. "But not right now, my princess. Go take your shower. We have a date tonight—and I don't intend to waste a single moment of it."
Akeno's breath caught. Her usual confident seduction faltered under the quiet intensity in his deep blue eyes, the gentle strength in his touch, and the way he turned her own game back on her without ever crossing the line.
Charming… heroic… kind… and those eyes…She felt her heart skip—actually skip…I want him even more now. "Right," she managed, voice softer than usual, a genuine smile breaking through the flirtation. "I'll be quick."
She stepped back, towel still perfectly in place, and disappeared into the bathroom with one last lingering glance. Arto exhaled slowly, running a hand through his damp hair. Flirty type, he thought, lips curving faintly. Two can play that game.
He headed to his room to dress—something nice, as requested.
[Bathroom]
Steam filled the bathroom as hot water cascaded over Akeno's skin. She closed her eyes, letting it wash away the day's tension, but her mind refused to quiet.
Arto.
His face kept surfacing behind her eyelids—those dark blue eyes that never wandered, never leered, even when she'd practically thrown herself at him wrapped in nothing but a towel. Every other man she'd known had looked at her with hunger, with possession, with the same filth that haunted her past.
But not him. He looked at her like she was a person. Like she mattered beyond her body or her power. And those eyes… they carried weight. Pain older than she could fathom. Regret. Loneliness. A quiet kind of sorrow that made her own scars ache in recognition.
What has he been through?
The question circled, unanswerable for now. Water streamed down her face, and for once Akeno didn't push the feeling away. She let herself wonder—dangerously, hopefully—if this man, this ancient warrior who had already proven himself different, might be someone she could finally trust.
Someone who might, one day, help carry the darkness she still hid behind smiles and lightning.
[Arto's room]
Arto stood before the full-length mirror, adjusting the black tie against the crisp gray dress shirt. The tailored black suit jacket hung open, revealing the faint scars that traced his neck and hands—marks that no illusion could hide in private. The overall effect was striking: sharp, elegant, and just a little dangerous—like a modern yakuza boss who'd stepped out of a film noir.
He tugged the cuffs straight, expression neutral. The door opened without a knock. Rias leaned against the frame, eyes widening appreciatively. "Oh my Satan," she breathed. "Even the second time, it's unfair how good you look. I knew this suit was perfect."
She stepped inside, circling him slowly, taking in every angle. "And Akeno gets to enjoy this view all night. So unfair." A playful pout. "You should take me out in it sometime too, you know."
Arto glanced at her reflection, one brow raised. "Maybe I will."
Rias stopped in front of him, hands on hips. "One more thing. You're handsome with the spell, but your face is too serious. Try a different expression—it'll make you even better."
Arto blinked. "Like what?"
Rias grinned, stepped close, and gently placed her fingers on his cheeks—thumbs at the corners of his mouth, nudging them upward into a soft, genuine half-smile. Her touch was light, almost reverent. "Like this," she said quietly. "Not too much. Just enough to let the warmth show."
Arto held the expression, looking at her in the mirror. The change was subtle, but striking. The stoic warrior softened into something approachable—still strong, still scarred, but now with a quiet kindness in his eyes that made him look… human. Relatable. Devastatingly attractive.
Rias's hands lingered a second longer than necessary before dropping. "…Perfect," she murmured, voice softer. "Akeno's not going to know what hit her."
Arto let the smile fade naturally, but a trace of it remained. "Thank you, Rias."
She stepped back, clearing her throat and reclaiming her usual confident tone. "Don't keep her waiting too long. And…" A mischievous glint returned. "Try not to break her heart before the appetizer."
Arto chuckled quietly—a low, warm sound—as he shrugged on the jacket. "I'll do my best." Rias watched him leave the room, suit impeccable, scars and all.
And for a moment, she allowed herself a small, wistful sigh. Lucky Akeno.
[Timeskip: Brought to you by chibi Arto molding his face in front of a mirror]
Akeno stepped out of the bathroom, steam trailing behind her like a veil. The towel was still wrapped snugly around her body, hair damp and loose down her back. She padded barefoot toward Arto's room, curious to see which outfit he'd chosen for their date.
The door was ajar. She peeked in—and froze. Arto stood before the mirror in the charcoal-gray suit they'd picked that morning: crisp black jacket open over a fitted gray shirt and black tie. The scars on his neck and hands added a dangerous edge, turning refined elegance into something quietly intimidating—like a modern warlord playing civilian.
Rias was already there, circling him with a proud grin, but Akeno barely registered her best friend.
So good-looking… all of this, just for me? This can't get any better…
She pushed the door wider, voice dropping into its natural sultry cadence. "You're looking good there, handsome~"
Arto turned, blinking in mild surprise. "Akeno? How do I look?" Akeno's smile widened, violet eyes drinking him in. "Stunningly handsome."
He returned the compliment without hesitation, gaze steady and sincere. "I bet you'll look stunningly gorgeous too, once you put on your outfit."
Akeno's heart gave a traitorous flutter. "You don't need to tell me twice." Rias crossed her arms, mock-indignant. "Hey, stop flirting with each other—I'm standing right here, you know."
Akeno completely ignored her, already gliding back to her room with a triumphant sway in her hips.
Rias waited until the door closed, then fixed Arto with a serious stare. "I've never seen her this happy around a man before. You'd better treat her right tonight, or I'll rip your head off—slowly."
Arto inclined his head, expression calm but warm. "Yes, my Princess." Rias's cheeks flared crimson. She swatted his arm repeatedly—playful, but with real devil strength. "Stop that! You're doing it on purpose now!"
He only smiled—small, knowing—and let her vent until she huffed and stormed out, muttering about unfair advantages.
Fifteen minutes later, Akeno returned. Arto's breath caught. She wore a sleek black cocktail dress—off-the-shoulder, fitted through the waist, flaring slightly at the hips. The fabric caught the light with every step, accentuating curves and long legs. Her hair was swept into an elegant updo, a few loose strands framing her face. Violet eyes sparkled with confidence and just a hint of nervousness.
They stared at each other across the hallway—completely forgetting Rias was still there. Akeno's lips curved. "Seems this dress does its trick."
Rias sighed dramatically, threw up her hands, and left the room with an exasperated "Fine, I know when I'm not wanted." The door clicked shut behind her. Akeno stepped close, sliding her arm through Arto's and pressing deliberately against his side. His arm sank into incredible softness; the scent of her shampoo—jasmine and something electric—filled his senses.
Yet his expression remained composed, posture relaxed, no flush, no stumble. Akeno's brows lifted in faint surprise and growing intrigue. "Shall we?"
"I'd love to," Arto replied smoothly. "But I've only been in this town since yesterday. I don't know any good places for… couples."
Akeno's cheeks pinked at the word. "Please don't say it like that, Arto. We're not there yet. I might get the wrong idea."
He tilted his head, voice low and teasing. "I didn't see any wrong idea in my sentence. You might need to be more specific, my Lady."
Akeno's heart skipped again. She laughed—soft, delighted—and tugged him toward the stairs. "Well, if there isn't one yet… I'll expect more from you later, my handsome Knight."
She began dragging him down the stairs with renewed determination. In the living room below, Rias sat at her desk pretending to read reports. The sound of footsteps made her look up—just in time to see Akeno wrapped possessively around Arto's arm, both of them glowing with anticipation.
Arto paused politely. "Good evening, Rias. Sorry we have to leave you alone tonight." Rias forced a tight smile. "Have fun, you two."
Akeno's smirk was pure victory. "Don't wait up~"
The door closed behind them. Rias stared at it for a long second.
Then the crimson aura flared. The pen in her hand shattered into dust. The wooden desk gained a perfect, smoking hand-shaped hole where her palm had rested. She slumped forward, forehead hitting the desk with a dull thud. "…Unfair."
[Timeskip: Brought to you by chibi Akeno and chibi Arto walking down the street]
The restaurant was everything Akeno had promised: dim crystal chandeliers, soft jazz drifting from hidden speakers, white tablecloths and candlelight flickering in glass holders. The kind of place where every table felt like its own private world.
Arto paused at the entrance, glancing at the menu prices posted discreetly by the door. His hand brushed the envelope with the two million yen in his inner pocket—thank you, Snowflake—and he sent a silent, apologetic thought to Koneko in case tonight accidentally wiped out their shared reward.
The waitress—a polished woman in her thirties—greeted them with a warm, knowing smile the moment she saw them together: Akeno radiant in her black dress, Arto striking and quietly commanding in his suit.
"Right this way, please. The couple's booth."
She led them to a curved, intimate corner seat meant for two—plush velvet, high backs, perfect for privacy.
Menus were placed with practiced grace.
"Ah, such a beautiful young couple," the waitress said softly, eyes twinkling. "How long have you been together?"
Without missing a beat, Arto answered—voice low, warm, and utterly convincing.
"First year. Sometimes it still feels like a dream." He slid his arm around Akeno's waist, pulling her gently but firmly against his side. "But I hope I never wake up. She's gorgeous, isn't she?"
Akeno's breath caught; violet eyes flicked to him in startled delight. The waitress flushed, pressing a hand to her cheek. "She certainly is. You're a lucky woman."
She retreated with a discreet smile, leaving them alone. Akeno turned in the circle of his arm, lips parted in playful accusation. "That was bold, Arto. Claiming me for yourself like that."
He met her gaze, the candlelight catching in his gray eyes. "You said you expected more from me. Does this exceed your expectations, my beloved 'wife'?"
Akeno's heart stuttered. She wrapped her own arm around his, pressing closer. "You don't know what you're saying, my 'husband'… you're making me fall for you."
Arto's voice dropped, soft and steady. "Then I'll be there to catch you. And hold you tight. Never let you go."
The teasing fell away. Something deeper passed between them—quiet, fragile, real. "There'll be no way back now," Akeno whispered. "You make me feel safe. Needed."
"Then feel it freely," he murmured. "No one will harm you while I'm here, my beloved Akeno." The waitress returned for their order. They managed to choose—steak for him, seafood pasta for her, wine recommended by the house—though neither could quite remember speaking the words.
Their eyes kept finding each other across the small table, conversation pausing for long, comfortable silences filled only with candlelight and soft music.
When the food arrived, Akeno finally broke the quiet. "You're spoiling me too much, Mr. Abyssgard. Am I your type?"
Arto considered her over the rim of his glass. "More or less. You remind me of someone I loved… long ago. Raven hair, beautiful face, voice like an angel, flirtatious spirit, incredible presence…"
Akeno's smile turned gently teasing. "Let me guess—her name was Akeno?"
He shook his head, expression softening into something wistful. "No. And that's the worst part. I can't remember her name. Her face is blurred in my mind. Her voice—I know it was beautiful, but the sound is gone. The Void… it eats memories. Slowly. Mercilessly. Everything I tried to hold onto slipped away, piece by piece."
Akeno's teasing vanished. Without warning, she leaned across the small booth and wrapped her arms around him, holding tight. "Then we'll make new ones," she said fiercely against his shoulder. "Here. In your new home. I know I can't replace her… but I hope you can find happiness with us. With me. So those dark, pained eyes of yours can finally soften."
Arto's arms came around her carefully, as though afraid he might break something precious. "And you, Akeno." His voice was barely above a whisper. "You hide behind that smile, but your eyes… they carry loneliness. Fear. A past that still hurts. You don't have to tell me—ever, if you don't want. But know I'm here. Always."
She pulled back just enough to meet his gaze. Tears glistened, unshed. "I'm glad," she said, voice trembling but strong. "To have finally found a truly good man."
"I'm glad to have found a place that accepts me." The rest of dinner passed in quiet intimacy—shared bites, intertwined fingers across the table, Akeno occasionally "accidentally" pressing his arm deeper between her breasts with a mischievous grin that made his eyes crinkle in quiet amusement.
[Outside the restaurant]
Issei, Matsuda, and Motohama trudged toward Issei's house, still nursing their earlier jealousy from the mall sighting. Their conversation—mostly Issei ranting about "that pretty-boy thief"—trailed off as they turned the corner onto a quieter street lined with upscale shops and restaurants.
Then they saw it. Under the warm glow of a fancy restaurant's awning, Akeno Himejima—one of the untouchable goddesses of Kuoh Academy—stood wrapped in the arms of a tall, dark-haired man in a sharp black suit.
Her arms were looped around his neck, fingers playing lightly with his hair. His hands rested respectfully but possessively on her lower back, pulling her close. She was smiling up at him—soft, genuine, radiant in a way none of the Perverted Trio had ever seen directed at any guy.
And the man…It was him. The same bastard who'd been with Rias that morning. The one carrying all her bags. The one who'd gotten into the lingerie store.
Issei's jaw dropped so hard it nearly hit the pavement. Matsuda froze mid-step. Motohama's glasses slid down his nose. "It's that bastard," Issei whispered, voice cracking. "He already has Rias-senpai… and now… even Akeno-senpai…?"
The sight burned. Akeno Himejima—sadistic, untouchable, lightning-queen Akeno—was practically melting against him. Issei's brain short-circuited. He opened his mouth and let out a raw, primal scream. "MY HAREM—!"
Matsuda and Motohama lunged, clamping hands over his mouth and dragging him backward into the shadows just as a passing pedestrian pulled out a phone, muttering about calling the police.
Issei thrashed weakly as they hauled him around the corner. "M-M-My… ha… harem…" he wheezed once they released him. "How?! How could he steal both of them in one day?! Why is life so unfair? So cruel to me?!"
Matsuda patted his back awkwardly. "There, there, man. We'll… uh… find you new oppai material." Motohama nodded solemnly. "Yeah. There are other fish in the sea. With… assets."
Issei just stared at the ground, defeated. Arto's ears twitched faintly beneath his hair.
He paused mid-conversation with Akeno, head tilting slightly. "What is it, Arto?" she asked, following his gaze down the empty street. "I thought I heard…" He frowned. "A scream. Full of anger, despair, jealousy. Then it cut off suddenly. Strange. I thought someone might need help."
Akeno's lips curved into a slow, mischievous smile. She stepped closer—close enough that her breath brushed his ear—and pressed a soft, deliberate kiss to his cheek. "The only person who needs your attention right now," she murmured, voice low and teasing, "is me, Darling~. Don't get distracted. You have a very needy girl right here."
Arto turned back to her, the faint concern melting into quiet amusement.
He brushed a loose strand of hair from her face, thumb lingering against her skin. "Then I'll give you all of it," he said simply.
Akeno's heart fluttered again—dangerously.
She looped her arms back around his neck, rising slightly on her toes. "Good answer."
And under the restaurant lights, the ancient warrior and the Queen of Thunder stood wrapped in each other—completely oblivious to the three heartbroken perverts who had just fled into the night, or to the fact that, somewhere down the street, Issei Hyoudou was dramatically mourning the collapse of his future harem.
[Timeskip: Brought to you by chibi Rias sleeping on Arto's head while chibi Akeno sleeps in his arms]
The clubhouse door clicked shut behind Arto just past eleven. The main room was dimly lit—only a few lamps glowing, casting long shadows across the wooden floors. The faint scent of Akeno's perfume still lingered on his jacket.
Akeno herself had parted from him at the foot of the stairs with a lingering, teasing touch to his tie and a sway in her hips that was deliberately exaggerated as she ascended. She glanced back once—violet eyes sparkling with satisfaction—before disappearing into her room with a soft "Goodnight, darling~."
Arto watched her go, then shook his head lightly, a small, bemused smile tugging at his lips. A quiet cough drew his attention.
Rias sat on the couch, arms crossed, a book open in her lap that she clearly hadn't been reading. Her crimson hair caught the lamplight like fire, but her expression was distinctly annoyed—blue-green eyes fixed on the faint, perfect lipstick mark Akeno had left on his cheek. "You two had fun, I see," she said, tone carefully neutral. "How was your night with Akeno?"
Arto touched the mark absently, then shrugged with honest mild confusion. "Great, I guess. I thought we were playing a role-playing game at first—husband and wife, all that. But by the end… it didn't feel like a game anymore."
Rias's gaze softened, just a fraction. She closed the book and set it aside. "Well, I hope you'll take good care of her. Akeno can be… needy, especially when she finds someone she can actually trust. Someone reliable." Her eyes met his directly. "Like you, Arto. I'm counting on you from now on, okay?"
Arto blinked, caught off-guard. "Wha—? Me?"
"Yes, you," Rias said, a hint of teasing creeping back in despite her earlier annoyance. "You're the one who charmed her. Now take responsibility for it, ancient knight~"
Arto rubbed the back of his neck, sighing. "I don't remember being this charming back in my world…" He paused, then glanced at her hopefully. "Fine. I'll do my best, I guess. By the way—can I have that book you mentioned? The magic primer?"
Rias's annoyance melted away entirely. She stood, walking to her desk and pulling open a drawer. From it she retrieved a slim, leather-bound volume—simple cover, title embossed in gold: Fundamental Principles of Magic – Beginner Level.
She handed it to him with a small, genuine smile. "Here. The one every young devil starts with. I expect great things from your 'equations,' Sensei."
Arto accepted it carefully, thumb brushing the cover as though it were something precious. "Thank you, Rias. Truly."
He paused, then reached out and—gently, carefully—wiped the lipstick mark from his cheek with the back of his hand.
Rias watched the motion, lips twitching. "…You could have left it," she muttered under her breath.
Arto pretended not to hear, already flipping open the first page of the primer. "Goodnight, my Princess."
Rias rolled her eyes, but the blush rising on her cheeks betrayed her. "Goodnight, ancient knight."
She turned off the lamps as he headed upstairs—book in hand, mind already tracing potential sigil translations.
Arto reached the top of the stairs, hand on his bedroom door, when Rias's voice stopped him. "Arto."
He turned. She stood at the bottom, arms crossed, expression a mix of concern and something harder to read. "Make sure to lock the door tightly tonight. Or maybe set up a protection barrier. Just in case, okay?"
Arto paused, processing. Then a slow, dawning realization crossed his face. "I'll keep that in mind." A beat. "Who am I kidding—I'll definitely do it. I'm in danger, somehow."
Rias watched him disappear into his room with a small, satisfied nod. The moment his door clicked shut, she exhaled a long, resigned sigh. From a drawer in the living room side table, she retrieved the master key to the entire clubhouse.
And a long, sturdy rope. Muttering under her breath—"I need to make sure she doesn't pull anything tonight… even if it means tying her up"—she headed upstairs to Akeno's room.
The master key turned silently in the lock. Rias pushed the door open. And froze.
Akeno lay sprawled across her bed, completely naked, sheets tangled around her waist. Her skin glistened with a faint sheen of sweat, chest rising and falling in heavy breaths. The lower half of her body pillow was unmistakably soaked, and the air carried the unmistakable scent of recent, intense release.
Akeno's violet eyes fluttered open at the intrusion. She sat up slowly, not bothering to cover herself, a lazy, satisfied smile curving her lips. "Yes, Rias?"
Rias recovered first—barely—closing the door behind her with a soft click. "How was your night?"
Akeno's smile turned dreamy, almost vulnerable. "Wonderful. Every second of it." She pulled the sheet higher, but her gaze stayed distant, fond. "Arto… he makes me feel safe. Truly safe. Like I could tell him anything—my past, all of it—and he wouldn't turn away. He'd accept me."
Her voice softened further. "He has his own tragedies. His eyes… they carry so much pain. Fire, blood, loss. Memories he can't escape because they're tied to everything he knows, everything he survived. But the people he loved… those memories are fading. The Void took them from him, piece by piece."
Rias leaned against the door, arms folded, listening quietly. "That's… pure tragedy," she said at last. "No wonder he avoids talking about it."
Akeno nodded, then tilted her head with a small, mischievous spark returning. "I've disturbed you enough," Rias said, pushing off the door. "But one more thing before you sleep."
"What is it?" Rias held up the rope. "No sneaking into his bed tonight. Got it?" Akeno's eyes widened in mock innocence. "Eh? But I want to be with my precious Arto. I need his embrace—and he needs mine." She pouted dramatically. "Or are you banning me so you can have him all to yourself, President? Abusing your power as King?"
Rias's face went scarlet. "N-no! Of course not!"
Akeno's grin turned triumphant. She snatched the rope from Rias's hand. "Then to make sure neither of us cheats…" She looped it around their wrists with practiced ease, tying a firm but comfortable knot that bound them together. "…you're sleeping here tonight. We'll keep an eye on each other."
Rias stared at the rope, then at Akeno's expectant face. "…Fine." She began unbuttoning her sleep shirt, grumbling. "But no sneaking. Promise."
Akeno scooted over, making room. "I should be telling you that." Some playful bickering followed—who got which side of the bed, who hogged the blankets, whose turn it was to turn off the light.
Eventually, exhaustion won. The lamp clicked off.
[Arto's room]
Arto's room was quiet, the only light coming from the soft glow of a bedside lamp. The new clothes from the shopping trip hung neatly in the wardrobe; the borrowed gym uniform had been folded away. The magic primer Rias had given him lay open on the desk, pages marked with careful notes in his precise, ancient-looking handwriting.
He stood before the battered armor stand in the corner—the one piece of his old life he'd brought with him. The plates were cleaned now, dents straightened as best he could manage, but the scars of countless battles remained.
From a hidden compartment inside the breastplate, he withdrew a small necklace.
A delicate silver chain, aged but unbroken. At its center hung a pendant: a stylized bird-like creature—wings spread, beak open in what might have been song or cry. The metal was worn smooth in places, as though it had been touched countless times over centuries.
Arto held it in his palm, thumb tracing the familiar shape.
His expression—usually calm, composed—cracked. "I'm so sorry," he whispered to the empty room. "I can't remember you anymore. Your face… your voice… even your name. The Void took them all."
His fingers closed around the pendant, knuckles whitening. "But there's one thing it couldn't take. My love for you, [UNKNOWN]. I miss you. Every day."
He pressed the necklace to his forehead for a long moment, eyes closed. "I hope… wherever you are… you found this. The last gift I left on my body before the end. I hope it reaches you. I hope you remember me… when no one else does. When even I can't."
The room was silent except for his quiet breathing. After a minute—or ten—he opened his hand again. The pendant caught the lamplight, the little bird seeming almost alive. He slipped the chain around his neck, tucking it beneath his shirt where it rested against his skin—close to his heart. A final, steadying breath. Then he turned off the lamp and climbed into bed. The necklace rose and fell with his breathing in the dark—a tether to a past he could no longer fully recall, but refused to let go.