The scent of cherry blossoms in Kyoto had turned cloying. Revas stood beneath the same ancient tree near the quiet Shinto shrine, the spot where pink snow had gently fallen around a girl holding a wilted flower just days before. His small chest felt tight, a knot of unease that had nothing to do with the unfamiliar human world air. He'd convinced Grayfia to bring him back, a quiet insistence that felt less like a child's whim and more like a deep, insistent pull in his gut. She'll be here, he'd thought, remembering the fragile connection, the shared silence under the blossoms. But the steps were empty.
Minutes bled into an hour. Revas scanned the street, the shrine entrance, the paths leading away. Nothing. Only the indifferent rustle of leaves and the distant hum of the city. The vibrant pink of the sakura suddenly seemed garish, a mockery of the profound stillness he felt emanating from the empty space where Akeno should have been.
"She might be occupied with other matters, Heir Gremory," Grayfia stated, her voice as cool and precise as ever. She stood nearby, impeccably dressed in a human business suit that somehow made her look even more formidable, a pillar of pale ice amidst the warm spring colors. "Human children have obligations - schooling, family duties."
Revas shook his head, his violet eyes fixed on the empty step. The memory of Akeno's sorrowful brown eyes, the weight in her small frame, the way she'd clutched that flower like a talisman against despair... it wasn't the absence of a playdate. This felt different. Wrong. "It's not that, Grayfia," he murmured, his voice low but steady. "Something... something feels broken." He placed a small hand over his heart. "Here. Where she sat. It feels... cracked."
Grayfia observed him. She'd witnessed the uncanny manifestations of Gremory Luck - the averted disasters, the impossible coincidences. She'd felt the unsettling warmth of his presence thawing her own glacial reserve. This wasn't childish petulance; it was a profound, intuitive distress radiating from the young heir. His Luck wasn't nudging him towards fortune; it was screaming a silent alarm. She saw the genuine fear in his unusual eyes, a fear not for himself, but for the girl he'd met only once.
"Very well," Grayfia conceded, her tone shifting minutely from observation to action. "Describe her residence. What little you might recall."
Revas concentrated, closing his eyes. He remembered fragments from their silent vigil - Akeno pointing vaguely down a specific side street when a particularly loud truck had passed, mentioning the smell of her mother's cooking drifting from an open window... "That way," he pointed decisively down a narrow lane branching off the main shrine approach. "A quieter street. Wooden houses... one with a blue tile roof, I think? She said... she said you could sometimes smell ginger."
Grayfia didn't question the scant details. She simply nodded. "Stay close." Her hand rested lightly, protectively, on his shoulder as they moved, her senses expanding far beyond the human norm, scanning the subtle currents of energy, the whispers of the air.
The further they walked down the indicated lane, the thicker the air became. Not with the scent of ginger, but with something acrid, sharp, and deeply unsettling - the smell of ash. And beneath it, the faint, coppery tang of ozone, the signature residue of demonic or angelic energy discharge. Revas's steps faltered, his small face paling. The knot in his chest tightened into a fist of dread.
They rounded a corner. The source of the smell was horrifyingly clear.
Where a modest, traditional wooden house with a distinctive blue-tiled roof should have stood, there was only ruin. Blackened timbers jutted skyward like broken bones. Smoke, thin and greasy, still curled from the wreckage. The garden was scorched earth. Windows were shattered, gaping holes revealing the charred devastation within. The air crackled with residual malice and grief so potent it felt like a physical blow.
Revas gasped, his hand flying to his mouth. Akeno. The silent scream echoed only in his mind.
Then, a sound cut through the stunned horror - a choked sob, quickly stifled, coming from the dense foliage of a large, scorched camellia bush near the property line.
"Grayfia!" Revas whispered urgently, pointing.
Grayfia's ice-blue eyes narrowed, her body shifting instantly into a posture of lethal readiness. "Remain behind me, Heir Gremory," she commanded, her voice dropping to a sub-zero whisper.
Before Revas could protest, figures materialized from the shadows of the neighboring ruins. Two men, clad in dark, traditional hakama that seemed to drink the light, their faces obscured by featureless white masks painted with a single, stylized crimson eye. They moved with predatory silence, converging on the camellia bush, their hands glowing with pale, crackling energy - holy light, twisted and malevolent. Himejima Clan assassins.
"Foul half-breed," one hissed, his voice distorted behind the mask. "Your mother's tainted blood couldn't save her. Yours won't save you. The clan's purity must be maintained."
A small whimper escaped the bush.
Revas saw red. Not the crimson of Power of Destruction, but a hot, righteous fury that burned away his fear. This was the broken feeling. This was the wrongness. They'd hurt Akeno. They'd destroyed her home. They'd taken her mother. He didn't think. He didn't strategize. He took a step forward, driven by pure, protective instinct.
Grayfia moved faster than thought.
One moment she was beside Revas; the next, she was a blur of silver and shadow between the assassins and the bush. There was no grand display of Power. Grayfia's strength was precision, speed, and absolute lethality. A flick of her wrist, too fast for the eye to follow, and a needle-thin shard of condensed ice, colder than the void, materialized and pierced the first assassin's throat. He crumpled soundlessly, holy light guttering out.
The second assassin barely had time to register his partner's fall before Grayfia was upon him. Her hand closed around his wrist as he raised it to strike. There was a sickening *crack* of bone, instantly muffled by a surge of frigid power that flash-froze his arm solid up to the elbow. A swift, brutal kick to his sternum sent him crashing into the blackened remains of a wall, where he lay still, encased in rapidly spreading ice.
Silence descended again, heavier now, broken only by the crackle of dying embers and the ragged, terrified breathing from within the camellia bush.
Grayfia turned, her expression impassive, not a hair out of place. "The threat is neutralized, Heir Gremory." She gestured towards the bush.
Revas didn't hesitate. He scrambled forward, pushing aside scorched leaves. Huddled deep within the thorny branches, covered in soot and trembling violently, was Akeno. Her beautiful black hair was tangled, her neat dress torn and smudged. Her eyes, wide with terror and unimaginable grief, locked onto Revas. Recognition flickered through the shock, followed by a fresh wave of anguish.
"A-Akeno?" Revas whispered, his voice thick with emotion. He reached out a hand slowly, palm up, an offering, not a demand. "It's me. Revas. From the shrine."
Akeno flinched, pressing further back into the thorns, fresh tears carving clean paths through the grime on her cheeks. "Go away!" she choked out, her voice raw. "You shouldn't be here! It's dangerous! They... they'll come back! They always come back! Because... because of me!"
"Why?" Revas asked gently, staying where he was, his hand still outstretched. "Why would they hurt you?"
Akeno squeezed her eyes shut, shuddering. "Because I'm wrong!" she sobbed, the words bursting out like poison. "I'm... I'm broken! Tainted! My... my father..." She choked, unable to say the words. "He was... Fallen. A Fallen Angel. My blood... it's dirty. Unclean! That's why Mother..." A heart-wrenching wail escaped her, the sound of utter desolation. "That's why they killed her! Because she loved me! Because she protected me! It's all my fault! Everything bad... it's because of what I am!"
Revas listened, his heart breaking for her. He saw the self-loathing, the crushing weight of guilt she'd already shouldered at nine years old. He didn't see tainted blood or fallen heritage. He saw the girl under the cherry tree, holding a wilted flower. He saw the profound loneliness. He saw a child whose world had just been violently ripped apart because of hatred and prejudice.
He slowly, carefully, moved closer, ignoring the thorns snagging his clothes. He didn't touch her yet. He just sat beside the bush, within her line of sight, his violet eyes holding hers with unwavering calm and compassion.
"Akeno," he said, his voice soft but firm, cutting through her sobs. "Look at me." She opened her tear-filled eyes, flinching as if expecting condemnation. "I don't see dirty blood," Revas stated simply, with the absolute conviction of a child who sees the world unclouded by prejudice. "I don't see a monster. I see you. I see a friend who is hurting. I see someone who just lost her mother." His own voice cracked slightly. "That's the tragedy. That's the wrong thing. Not you. Never you."
Akeno stared at him, stunned. No one had ever said anything like that. Not after learning her secret. Revictimization always followed the revelation. Yet here was this strange boy with violet eyes, who smelled faintly of old books and something warm like sunlight on stone, looking at her without an ounce of fear or disgust. Only sadness for her pain.
"My name is Revas Gremory," he continued, the name carrying weight even in this ruined garden. "My family... we're Devils. Powerful ones." He glanced back at Grayfia, who stood silently vigilant, a silent testament to that power. "These people," he gestured towards the frozen assassins, his young voice hardening with a resolve far beyond his years, "they hurt you because they were afraid. Because they didn't understand. But they won't hurt you again. Not ever."
He took a deep breath, the image of the unopened chest of Evil Pieces flashing in his mind. Destiny. Threads aligning. "Akeno," he said, leaning forward slightly, his violet eyes earnest and filled with a fierce, protective light. "You don't have anywhere to go. You don't have to be alone. Come with me. Come with Grayfia and me. Become part of my family. Become... become part of my peerage."
Akeno's eyes widened impossibly further. "P-Peerage? Your... family?" The concepts were immense, terrifying. Joining a Devil peerage? The Gremory family? It was like being offered sanctuary in a dragon's den.
"Yes," Revas nodded firmly. "You'll be safe. You'll have a home. With me. With us. I promise you, Akeno." He placed his small hand over his heart again, the gesture he'd used when he felt the brokenness. "I promise on my name, on my Luck, that no one will ever make you feel like this again. No one will hurt you for who you are. You'll be protected. You'll be..." He searched for the word, the one that felt truest. "...cherished."
He held out his hand again, not just an offer, but a lifeline thrown across an ocean of despair. "Will you come with me? Will you be my Akeno?"
The silence stretched. The smell of ash was thick. The grief was a crushing weight on Akeno's small shoulders. She looked from Revas's earnest face to the terrifyingly efficient Grayfia, then back to the smoldering ruins of her life, the remnants of the assassins who represented the hatred chasing her. The words 'half-breed', 'tainted', echoed in her mind, warring with Revas's simple, devastatingly honest words: I see you. Not a monster.
A fragile, desperate hope flickered in the depths of her sorrowful brown eyes, fragile as the cherry blossom petals drifting onto the ash-covered ground. It wasn't trust fully formed, not yet. It was the exhausted grasp of a drowning child for a solid branch.
Slowly, trembling violently, Akeno reached out from the thorny sanctuary of the bush. Her small, soot-stained hand slid into Revas's waiting one. Her grip was weak, cold, but it was an answer.
Revas didn't smile triumphantly. He simply closed his fingers gently around hers, a silent vow sealing the promise. He looked up at Grayfia. "Grayfia? Can we...?"
Grayfia stepped forward. Her expression remained cool, professional, but as she looked down at the two children - the Gremory heir radiating fierce, protective calm, the broken half-Fallen girl clinging to his hand like an anchor - something shifted in her icy gaze. It wasn't warmth, perhaps, but a profound acknowledgment. A recognition of a bond forged in fire and offered in sanctuary. Destiny, indeed.
"Of course, Heir Gremory," Grayfia stated. She didn't reach for Akeno roughly. Instead, she offered her own hand, palm up, a gesture of formal escort. "Miss Akeno. Your safety is now our priority. Come." Her voice, while still crisp, held a subtle undertone of reassurance, the closest she could come to gentleness.
Akeno looked at Grayfia's hand, then at Revas, who gave her hand a small, encouraging squeeze. Taking a shuddering breath, Akeno placed her other hand in Grayfia's. The contact was cool, firm, grounding. The Ice Queen's grip was surprisingly steady, a bulwark against the world that had just tried to shatter her.
Revas stood, helping Akeno to her feet. She swayed, weak with shock and grief. Revas instinctively moved closer, offering silent support. Together, flanked by the immovable presence of Grayfia Lucifuge, they walked away from the ashes of Akeno's past life.
Revas glanced back only once at the smoldering ruin and the frozen figures of hatred. His violet eyes, usually so serene, held a glint of something new: hardened resolve. The promise he'd made wasn't just words. It was a covenant etched onto his soul. He had found the first thread of his peerage not in a calculated move, but in the heart of tragedy. He had found Akeno. And he would spend every ounce of his Luck, every resource of the Gremory name, to ensure the darkness that had touched her would never reach her again. The path destiny revealed was paved with sorrow, but lit now by the fierce, protective light of a young heir who had found his first true charge. His Queen, though neither knew it yet, had been claimed not by a Piece, but by a promise made in the smell of ash and the grip of a trembling hand.