It had been less than a day since Chiori collapsed after purging the curse from her father.
No one outside the inner circle knew the full story. Not the blade. Not the parasite.
But Asmodeus had seen enough.
He hadn't said anything when Hinata returned with her unconscious in his arms. He didn't need to. The look on Hinata's face was enough—a grim line that even his usual theatrics couldn't soften.
Now, hours later, Asmodeus stood alone in the upper courtyard. The moon sat high above, full and fat with quiet judgment. Stars blinked in and out of view through drifting clouds, their light casting fractured shadows across the old stone tiles beneath his boots.
He wasn't training.
Not really.
A dagger spun in one hand, flipping end over end with fluid, practiced motion. In his other, a throwing pin—not sharpened, but weighted. He threw it without looking.
Clink.
It struck the mark on the practice dummy's collar and bounced off, landing somewhere near the edge of the fountain.
He didn't move to retrieve it.
Instead, he shifted his footing slightly, and his mana stirred.
A thin arc of lightning snapped to life at the tip of his boot, coiling along the stone in a jagged spiral. It danced for a moment, hissing through the cracks in the stone—and struck the dummy's base.
Crack—Thunk.
The target jerked to the side with a grunt of splintered wood, then toppled over.
Asmodeus exhaled.
Lightning still clung to the air—static humming in his bones.
He tilted his head up toward the sky.
"What happens when she stops needing us?" he asked.
The clouds rolled. The moon blinked in and out like it couldn't make up its mind.
His dagger slowed in his grip. Then stilled.
"She's stronger now," he said quietly. "Stronger than before. Stronger than me."
And for a moment, he didn't know if that felt like pride or something lonelier.
He threw the blade.
Thunk.
Dead center in the shoulder joint. Buried deep.
He stared at it.
Not with awe. Not with envy.
Just with that quiet, unshakable awareness that he would never be her equal.
Not in that way.
Not when it counted.
"Good," he muttered. "She needs to be."
A breath.
A twitch of energy flared at his fingertips again. Lightning arced between his knuckles, crackling faintly before flickering out. The mana felt different lately—more reactive, more refined.
More controlled.
He thought of the way she'd stood above the cursed remnants of her father. Not breaking. Not flinching.
"I'd die for her," he said suddenly.
Then paused.
"...But she never asked me to."
The wind shifted again, tugging at his coat. Cold. Dry.
Not natural.
He stiffened slightly, eyes narrowing toward the far edge of the estate.
Lightning danced faintly in his palm as he recited a spell remembered by heart
A verse—etched into him from a Lightning Grimoire he wasn't supposed to have touched. The one hidden behind the second shelf in the House Saegusa library, sealed in a warded case only legacy heirs were allowed to open.
He had opened it anyway.
Now, he whispered the incantation—not loud, but with reverence
"From above the crownless throne,
let wrath descend in silver flame.
I call the judgment skyward—
Break, O clouds—make ruin known.
Strike once for oath.
Strike twice for blood.
Strike thrice, that no shadow may flee.
Grant me power, for I am Asmodeus."
The mana in the air snapped like broken wires.
Lightning coiled around his arms, fractaling upward into the sky. Clouds churned in response, warping and swirling as if dragged from slumber. Static tore the silence in half, and thunder rolled once—deep and raw like the sky was exhaling through shattered lungs.
His eyes flicked to the far edge of the estate—where the presence had spiked.
And then he raised his hand—
"The book of Force, Verse One: Judicium Voltaris!"
A lance of pure lightning tore from the clouds.
CRACK—BOOM!
It struck the treeline in the distance with a scream of white-hot light, vaporizing branches and sending a shockwave rippling through the earth.
The glow lasted only a moment.
Silence followed.
Asmodeus staggered once—just a step—but it cost him.
The spell pulled more than he'd anticipated.
He exhaled sharply, clutching his shoulder as the static hissed from his fingertips.
"Too much," he muttered, dropping to one knee. "That's too much."
But the air felt cleaner now.
Lightning still buzzed faintly at his fingertips—less wild now.
He stayed there for a few more seconds, catching his breath, letting the clouds slowly calm above him.
Then—
Shouts.
Distant, but growing.
Boots scraped against stone. Mana flared—soft, disciplined signatures. Not guards.
Shadows.
Two cloaked figures darted into the edge of the training arena, their forms slipping out of concealment with a whisper of distortion. Saegusa operatives—Hinata's personal detail. Not estate security.
The taller one spotted him instantly. "Lord Asmodeus."
He didn't rise right away. "It hit the western tree line."
"We saw." The other moved past him, eyes scanning the horizon. "Strike radius: Minimal. Impact crater: Localized. No residual aura spikes... but something was there."
"I know," he muttered. "It watched for too long."
The first operative stepped closer, eyes narrowing beneath the mask. "That wasn't a warning spell."
"No," he admitted, standing slowly. "It was a message."
"To who my Lord?"
He didn't answer.
Just reached for the dagger still lodged in the training dummy's heartwood.
The figure beside him tilted her head slightly, not demanding, just observing.
"Lord Hinata will want a report."
"Then tell him I handled it," Asmodeus said, voice low. "And tell him if it comes back... I'll do worse."
A pause.
Then the first shadow gave a short nod and faded backward into the dark—no sound, no ripple. The second followed, vanishing over the far railing as if they were never there.
He turned back to the sky, his shoulder still aching from the spell.
The clouds above had already begun to disperse. The lightning left behind only a faint hum across the stones—silent testament to something that shouldn't have gotten that close.
A pair of attendants in nightrobes burst into the courtyard through the far arch, wide-eyed and clearly running on adrenaline and fear more than training.
"Was that lightning?" one gasped, eyes flicking from the sky to the smoldering horizon.
"Did something hit the wards?!" the other yelled, looking around like an enemy might still be nearby.
Asmodeus didn't move.
He was still crouched, one hand braced against the cold stone, the last traces of electricity dancing along his coat's trim.
"It's fine," he said, voice flat.
They stopped short. One of them—shorter, younger—took a hesitant step forward. "Lord Asmodeus…? That strike—was that you?"
He stood slowly, dusting his hands off on his pants. "Does it matter?"
They both stared.
One finally shook her head, eyes scanning the nearby rooftops. "W-we thought it was an attack. That something breached the far wards."
"It was handled," Asmodeus muttered. "If anything else shows, you'll hear it."
The two exchanged glances.
"Tell the perimeter guards it was a discharge test. No threat. No breach."
The older attendant frowned slightly, unsure. "But the impact—"
"Wasn't on the estate," he said, turning back toward the inner path. "Just close enough to remind whatever it was... that we're not sleeping."
A long pause.
Then the younger attendant gave a slow nod, bowing once before tugging her companion to follow.
They left without another word.
Asmodeus stared out toward the far tree line again, jaw clenched tight.
Whatever it had been—it watched long enough to draw him out.
Long enough to make him act on instinct.
He hated that.
He turned, steps heavy but steady as he walked back toward the training hall, the faint buzz of static still clinging to his coat like a warning flare.
The clouds above began to drift apart, slowly revealing stars again.
But Asmodeus didn't look up.
He clenched his fists once—tightly—feeling the ache in his mana channels and the lingering hum under his skin.
This wasn't enough.
Not nearly enough.
The lightning hadn't drained him because it was powerful.
It had drained him because he wasn't ready.
And he was tired of not being ready.
He exhaled slowly, breath fogging in the night air.
"I need better training," he muttered. "Brutal. Relentless."
His fingers twitched.
"…I might actually beg her."
He just kept walking—toward the training arena's shadows—where no one could see the frustration burning under his skin.
—
I woke up to silence.
Not the heavy kind that came after pain—but the quieter one. The kind that slipped in through curtains before dawn, soft and waiting.
My body ached—not sharp, just... present.
I didn't move yet.
Metatron hovered faintly behind my thoughts, a presence more than a voice. No alerts. No notifications. Just a soft pulse at the edge of my awareness. Waiting.
[Notice: Core stabilization complete. Vital signs within normal variance. No residual corruption detected.]
"Thanks"
[You are welcome.]
The ceiling above me was familiar—my room, unchanged. Pale stone, mana-threaded trim across the arch. Safe. For now.
Yukihana stirred faintly inside its seal.
Not a voice.
Not a word.
Just presence.
Not asleep anymore.
I sat up, breath steadying. My limbs obeyed—good. My heart was calm—good.
There was a bowl of water on the nightstand. Fresh. A folded cloth. Someone had been here. Maybe Mom. Maybe Uncle Hinata.
Maybe Rei.
No windows open. No breeze. Just the soft warmth of containment sigils woven into the room's framework.
Locked down, but not prison.
A protection circle.
[Shall I review post-purge mana anomalies and battlefield data logs?]
"Later."
[Understood]
I stood.
Not fully stable. But enough.
Seven years had passed since the day my blood tried to kill me.
And now?
Now it wouldn't happen again.
Because I saw the fracture.
And I cut it out.
The floor was cool under my feet. I reached for the robe draped at the chair, slipping it on without ceremony. No armor. No mantle. Just fabric and breath.
But my fingers trembled once—just once—when I tightened the sash.
Not from fear.
From memory.
The feeling of the blade in my hands.
The look on his face when he came back to himself.
I shut my eyes. Just for a second.
Then opened them again.
[Notice: Ambient mana signature approaching.]
I lightly stepped toward the door—expecting Mother. Or maybe Levy.
But the signature was... lighter. Familiar.
[Confirmed: Attendant rank. No threat detected.]
A knock followed.
Soft. Hesitant.
I didn't answer.
Not right away.
Then, finally—"Come in."
The door eased open.
Rei stood there—hair still damp from a rinse, a clean coat slung loosely over his shoulders. He looked like he hadn't slept much. Or maybe hadn't tried.
His eyes scanned the room, landing on me with a quiet sort of calculation. Not suspicion. Not even concern. Just... observation. Measuring the space between what he knew and what he saw.
"You're awake," he said.
I raised an eyebrow. "Obviously."
A twitch of his mouth. Almost a smile.
He stepped inside without waiting for an invitation but closed the door gently behind him. No boots tracking in mud this time. No dirt. No ash.
Just Rei.
"How long was I out?" I asked.
He crossed the room and leaned against the windowsill. His usual spot.
"A little over a day," he said. "You burned through most of your mana. Hinata brought you in."
"I remember," I murmured.
He nodded once. "Didn't tell anyone else what happened. Just said you handled it."
A pause.
"Handled it," I repeated, like the words tasted strange.
He didn't push.
Just watched.
"You gonna ask what happened?" I said after a beat.
Rei's gaze flicked to mine. "Would you tell me?"
I hesitated.
Then shrugged. "Probably not."
"Didn't think so."
Another silence.
He broke it first. "I saw the hidden rooms, you know. After. There's still singed stone along the pedestal room. And si- I mean Lady Lelyah sealed off the rooms."
My fingers twitched slightly. "He's alive."
"I figured." His voice stayed neutral. "But you look like hell."
I snorted. "Thanks."
"Didn't say it was a bad look."
I finally moved from the door, pacing slowly to the window across from him. The world outside was still. The kind of calm that didn't feel earned.
"Is he still here?" I asked.
Rei shook his head. "Lord Hinata took him. Said something about needing containment only his people could maintain."
I nodded once.
Then silence again.
But this time, it settled easier.
"So," Rei said, after a moment, "anything you wanna talk about? Or are you gonna pretend none of this happened and go straight back to pretending you're normal?"
I looked at him. Really looked.
His posture was relaxed. But his eyes weren't.
They never were.
"Normal's overrated," I said softly.
He snorted.
"Also a lie," he added.
A quiet breath passed between us.
But even in the stillness, I felt it—that sliver of something unsaid. Not tension. Not fear.
A seam.
Hairline.
Deliberate.
Rei always guarded himself like a fortress. Calm. Measured. Calculated.
But now?
There was something in his stance—subtle. Too subtle for anyone else to catch.
But I wasn't anyone else.
I tilted my head slightly, eyes narrowing—not with suspicion, but... wonder.
[Notice: Subject Rei Gintama exhibits minor physiological stress. Heart rate deviation detected. Source: unspoken personal tension.]
"Metatron."
[Yes]
"Still think he's female?"
[Correction: Genetically and biologically, subject remains classified as female. Identity expression remains male. Discretion advised.]
"...Hnh."
Rei glanced up at me. "What?"
"Nothing," I said smoothly. "Just... thinking."
A beat.
Then, "You always think that hard when you're being quiet?"
I smiled, slow and thin. "Only when the silence starts talking back."
He smirked faintly, but his shoulders twitched. Just barely.
A tell.
I was tired of pretending I didn't notice.
"You're doing it again," I said.
Rei blinked. "Doing what?"
"That thing," I said, turning toward him fully now. "Where your body wants to flinch but your face pretends it's above it."
He didn't answer.
So I leaned forward just slightly, eyes narrowing. "Are you going to keep pretending?"
Rei's jaw tightened. "Pretending what?"
"That you're exactly what you say you are."
Silence.
A slow, uncomfortable silence.
"...You're not making sense," he muttered, but the tension in his hands gave him away.
I didn't blink. "Aren't I?"
Still, he said nothing.
So I kept going.
"You don't look at yourself when you undress for wounds. You never let anyone touch your back during training. You vanish during inspections and suddenly reappear without a scratch."
My voice dropped lower.
"I see more than I let on, Rei. You know that."
He finally looked at me—but not in anger.
In warning.
"This isn't a game, Chiori."
"No," I said, sharper now. "It's not."
The next words came quieter, but not gentler.
"You bleed differently. You walk like you're hiding a second heartbeat. And I saw the red stain on the chair after you left last week."
His breath hitched.
There it was.
I wasn't accusing him.
I wasn't outing him.
But I wasn't letting him vanish behind silence anymore, either.
"Who are you really trying to protect?" I asked.
Me?
Yourself?
Both?
Rei didn't answer.
Didn't move.
But his eyes had never looked more human.
And never more terrified.
[Notice: Subject's emotional stability declining. Psychological pressure at threshold.]
"Metatron, shut up."
[Confirmed.]
I sat back slowly.
Then said, softer than before, "You don't have to say anything. Not yet. But don't pretend like I don't see you."
Another pause.
Then I looked away.
"I never stopped seeing you."
Rei didn't move.
Didn't flinch.
But I could feel it—the storm just beneath her skin. The part of her that was always braced to vanish, to deflect, to retreat.
This time, she didn't.
A beat passed.
Then—
"…How long have you known?"
The words were quiet.
Steady.
But I heard the tightness behind them. Not fear. Not even shame.
Just exhaustion.
I turned back toward her, eyes narrowing.
"I didn't know. Not exactly. Just… pieces. Enough of them to start seeing the pattern."
Rei exhaled slowly. Her shoulders eased—not relaxed, but… unwound, like someone who realized the hiding part was finally over.
"Figures," she muttered. "Of all the people…"
I tilted my head. "You say that like I'm the worst option."
"You're not," she said quickly. "You're just… the one I was hoping would never ask."
That stung a little.
I didn't say anything right away.
Neither did she.
She just looked down at her hands—like they were someone else's. Then back up, her voice quieter now.
"So… what now?"
I blinked.
"That depends."
"On what?"
"On whether you trust me."
She met my gaze—really met it. No mask. No guard.
Just her.
"…I do," she said.
I nodded once, then leaned back again.
"Then nothing changes. Except now I know."
Rei let out a breath she probably hadn't realized she was holding.
"…Thank you," she whispered.
I didn't answer.
Didn't need to.
Some things didn't need spells or weapons to be heavy.
Some truths just sat in the air—finally free.
The silence lingered for a beat too long.
Naturally, I couldn't help myself.
"So…" I drawled, "if you're technically a girl…"
Rei didn't look at me, but her shoulders stiffened like I'd poked a fresh bruise. "Chiori."
I leaned a little forward in bed, resting my weight on my elbow. "You do realize this changes the whole 'loyal attendant' aesthetic, right?"
Rei sighed. "It doesn't change anything."
"Oh, it changes everything." I grinned. "Now you're my mysterious loyal attendant with a secret identity. Do you know how many romance novels start like that?"
Rei finally turned to look at me—flat, unimpressed, but with the barest twitch at the corner of her mouth. "You read romance novels?"
"I study them," I said primly. "For character development."
"Uh huh."
I smirked. "So… do I get to see?"
Her expression didn't even flinch. "See what?"
I gestured vaguely at her. "The real setup. You know. For scientific verification."
"No."
"Just a peek?"
"No."
"What if I order you?"
She raised an eyebrow. "Then I'll remind you of the privacy clause in the servant's oath and politely suggest you reconsider your entire life."
I burst out laughing. "There she is."
Rei rolled her eyes and muttered something about medically-induced boldness.
I stretched out on the bed, feeling the humor settle like a balm over the tension.
"You've been keeping this a long time," I said quietly. "The secret, I mean."
Rei's voice lowered. "Longer than I should've."
I glanced sideways. "You scared I'd treat you different?"
"…Terrified."
A pause.
Then I grinned again. "Joke's on you. Now I have leverage."
She groaned. "What leverage?"
"I know your biggest secret. Which means I'm entitled to teasing rights for life."
Rei looked at the ceiling like she was praying for lightning. "Should've just stayed mysterious."
I chuckled.
"You never were."