three years flowed through the Underworld like a slow, dark river. Arx Tenebris had settled into a rhythm that resonated with Akeno's presence. The haunted look in her eyes had softened, replaced by a fierce, protective warmth reserved almost exclusively for the Gremory household, and especially for Revas. She'd embraced her role as his Queen with unwavering devotion, her Fallen Angel heritage now a source of unique power she wielded with pride for her Master and her new family, not shame. Her laughter, once a rarity, now occasionally rang through the halls, a sound Revas cherished like sunlight piercing the perpetual twilight.
Revas himself had grown taller, his frame still slender but carrying an air of quiet authority that belied his fourteen years. His violet eyes remained observant and calm, though a deeper layer of understanding, forged by witnessing Akeno's healing and the complexities of Devil politics, now resided within them. The chest of Evil Pieces remained unopened in his chambers, a silent testament to his belief in destiny's timing.
One afternoon, the familiar hum of powerful teleportation magic resonated through the fortress's wards. Revas and Akeno were in the library, Revas immersed in a treatise on ancient Underworld ley lines, Akeno meticulously polishing the silver fittings on her Queen piece – a gift from Venelana symbolizing her formal place in the peerage-in-waiting. They looked up as the heavy doors to the main hall groaned open.
Sirzechs Lucifer stepped through, his crimson robes swirling with residual power. His usual aura of warm authority was tempered by a somber gravity. Cradled against his chest, almost swallowed by the folds of his robe, was a small figure.
Revas and Akeno approached cautiously. Grayfia materialized silently beside Sirzechs, her expression even more unreadable than usual, a subtle tension in her posture.
"Brother?" Revas asked, his gaze fixed on the bundle in Sirzechs's arms.
Sirzechs sighed, a sound heavy with weariness and sorrow. He gently shifted his burden. A small girl peeked out. She couldn't have been more than seven or eight. Her hair was a cascade of snow-white, framing a face of heartbreaking delicacy. But it was her eyes that struck Revas – large, luminous gold, holding an ocean of sadness so profound it seemed to dim the very light around her. They were vacant, haunted, holding a frozen grief that mirrored Akeno's own years ago, yet colder, more deeply buried. Her small hands clutched fistfuls of Sirzechs's robe with a desperate, silent intensity. Two small, white cat ears, twitching faintly in distress, were visible amidst her hair, and a matching white tail was curled tightly around her leg.
"This is Shirone," Sirzechs said, his voice low and gentle. "A Nekomata. We… found her. In a very bad place." He didn't elaborate, but the grim set of Grayfia's jaw spoke volumes. "Her sister… was lost. Shirone witnessed things no child should." He looked down at the trembling girl. "She needs sanctuary. She needs safety. And… she needs kindness."
Revas felt the familiar pull deep in his gut, stronger than ever. Destiny's thread, shimmering faintly, reaching out towards this small, shattered creature. He stepped forward slowly, Akeno instinctively moving to flank him, her expression softening with immediate understanding and empathy.
"Hello, Shirone," Revas said, his voice as soft as falling snow. He didn't reach out, didn't crowd her. He simply knelt a few feet away, bringing himself closer to her eye level. "I'm Revas. This is Akeno. You're safe here now. Arx Tenebris is strong. No bad things can get in."
Shirone flinched, burying her face deeper into Sirzechs's robe. Only a single, gold eye remained visible, watching Revas with the wary distrust of a wounded animal.
Revas didn't push. He simply sat back on his heels, radiating calm. "It's quiet in the gardens sometimes," he offered. "Or warm by the big fireplace in the library. You can sit wherever feels safest."
Days turned into weeks. Shirone remained a ghost in the halls of Arx Tenebris. She ate little, spoke not a word, and moved with silent, feline grace, always seeming to melt into the shadows. She avoided most people, flinching at sudden movements or loud noises. Zeoticus and Venelana treated her with gentle patience, giving her space. Grayfia ensured her needs were met with quiet efficiency. But it was Revas she watched.
He didn't try to force interaction. He simply… existed near her. He'd read in the library while she huddled in a corner. He'd quietly sketch the crystalline flowers in the courtyard while she sat frozen on a bench nearby, watching the strange blooms. He'd leave small, non-threatening things in her path – a smooth, cold stone, a feather from a harmless Underworld bird, a simple pastry from the kitchens. He never commented if she took them, never looked disappointed if she didn't.
One afternoon, Revas found a discarded bit of yarn near the kitchens. On a whim, guided by that familiar, gentle nudge of Luck, he fashioned it into a crude, wobbly ball. He wasn't particularly skilled, but the result was soft and vaguely spherical. He placed it near the bench Shirone often occupied in the quietest corner of an inner courtyard. Then he sat nearby, pretending to read.
He saw her white ears twitch from her hiding spot behind a large, obsidian planter. Slowly, cautiously, a small hand emerged. Fingers brushed the yarn ball. Retreated. Emerged again. This time, the small hand closed around it. Shirone pulled it back into her hiding spot.
Revas didn't look up, but a small, genuine smile touched his lips. Progress.
Later that day, he found the yarn ball sitting neatly on his windowsill.
Akeno watched the silent dance between her Master and the traumatized Nekomata with a heart full of aching familiarity. She remembered the suffocating despair, the feeling of being irreparably broken. She saw Shirone's silent suffering and recognized the echoes of her own past.
One evening, finding Shirone huddled alone in a window alcove overlooking the perpetually twilit sky, Akeno approached. Not too close. She sat on the floor nearby, leaning against the cold stone wall.
"It's cold here by the window," Akeno said softly, her voice warm and low. "But sometimes the view is worth it."
Shirone didn't respond, didn't even look at her. But her tail, usually wrapped tightly around her, gave a tiny, almost imperceptible flick.
"I used to sit by a window too," Akeno continued, gazing out at the distant, jagged peaks. "After… after my mother was gone. Everything felt cold and dark and broken. Like the world had ended." She felt Shirone's stillness deepen, a sign she was listening. "I thought it was my fault. Because of… what I was. What they said I was."
Now, Shirone turned her head slightly, one golden eye fixed on Akeno.
Akeno met that gaze, her brown eyes filled with understanding, not pity. "They were wrong, Shirone. Just like whoever hurt you, whoever took your sister… they were wrong. What happened wasn't your fault. You're not broken."
A single tear escaped Shirone's golden eye, tracing a silent path down her pale cheek. It was the first visible sign of emotion beyond frozen fear or profound sadness she'd shown since arriving.
Akeno's voice softened further. "Revas… he found me when I was hiding too. In the ashes. He didn't see the tainted blood or the broken pieces. He just saw… me. Someone who was hurting. He promised me safety. He promised me a home. And he kept those promises." A warm, genuine smile touched Akeno's lips, a smile reserved for thoughts of her Master. "He's… like sunlight, Shirone. Warm and steady. Even when things are dark. He sees the person, not the past. Not the pain."
She leaned a little closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "He leaves you little things, doesn't he? Stones, feathers… that funny yarn ball?" A tiny, almost ghost of a nod from Shirone. "He's telling you, in his quiet way, that you belong here. That you're safe. That he sees you, Shirone. Just like he saw me."
Shirone stared at Akeno, the frozen grief in her eyes beginning to thaw, replaced by a desperate, hesitant hope. "H-He…" Her voice was a tiny, rusty whisper, the first word she'd spoken in Arx Tenebris. "...accept? Like you?"
Akeno's smile widened, radiant. "Yes. Exactly like me. He will protect you. We all will. The Gremory are your family now, if you want us. You can be Shirone Gremory. You can be safe. You can learn to smile again." She gently touched her Queen piece, gleaming at her throat. "He needs strong people around him, Shirone. People he can trust. People who understand the dark places. You could be one of them."
The words hung in the air. The desperate hope in Shirone's golden eyes warred with the ingrained fear and sorrow. She looked from Akeno's encouraging face towards the door, where Revas often appeared. She remembered the quiet boy who didn't push, who left small comforts, who radiated a calm safety she hadn't known since… since before.
Later that week, Revas was tending to a small, resilient Underworld fern that had taken root near his favorite reading bench. Shirone appeared silently beside him. She didn't huddle or hide. She stood straight, her small shoulders squared, though her gaze remained fixed on the ground. In her hands, she held the slightly frayed yarn ball.
Revas looked up, surprised but careful not to startle her. "Hello, Shirone."
Slowly, deliberately, Shirone held out the yarn ball towards him. Then, with immense effort, she lifted her head. Her golden eyes met his violet ones. The profound sadness was still there, a deep well, but beneath it, something new flickered. A fragile ember of decision. Of trust offered.
"K-Koneko," she whispered, her voice barely audible but clear. "Call me… Koneko."
Revas understood instantly. It wasn't just a nickname; it was a shedding. A rejection of the past tied to 'Shirone', to the pain and loss. It was a choice for a new beginning. Just like Akeno had rejected her heritage.
He took the yarn ball gently from her small hand. "Koneko," he repeated, his voice warm with acceptance. "It suits you."
A tiny, almost imperceptible tremble touched Koneko's lips. It wasn't a smile, not yet. But it was the thawing of permafrost. The first crack in the ice. Her golden eyes held his, no longer vacant, but filled with a tentative, desperate hope.
"Stay?" she whispered, the question laden with the weight of her choice, her fear of rejection.
Revas didn't hesitate. He placed the yarn ball carefully back into her hand, closing her small fingers around it. "Always, Koneko," he vowed, his voice echoing the promise he'd made to Akeno years before. "You're home now. You're family. You're ours."
He offered his hand, palm up, not to lead, but as a symbol. An invitation to stand beside him. Koneko looked at his hand, then at the yarn ball in her own. Slowly, tentatively, she placed her small hand in his. Her grip was cold but firming, no longer clinging in terror, but holding on to a lifeline deliberately chosen.
Akeno, watching discreetly from a nearby archway, felt a lump form in her throat. Seeing Koneko's tentative step towards healing, guided by Revas's quiet light just as she had been, felt like witnessing a sacred echo. Her Master's promise was a beacon, drawing lost souls out of the darkness. The Queen smiled, a fierce pride warming her chest. Their family, their peerage, was slowly, beautifully, taking shape, thread by crimson thread, woven from sanctuary and the unwavering light of a boy who saw the person beneath the pain. Koneko Toujou had chosen her path. She had chosen Gremory. She had chosen Revas. Her journey towards becoming his Rook had begun.