3rd Person POV
Arto and Koneko are on their way to buy ice cream for everyone, the little girl is holding a piece of paper dictating the flavor everyone likes as they walk down the street, Rias wanted Vanilla, Akeno wanted strawberry, Kiba wanted mango, chocolate for Koneko and Arto's section is just a big question mark.
"You've never had ice cream?" Koneko asked, her voice flat but curious, glancing up at the blank space on the list where Arto's preference should have been.
"Where I lived... resources were for survival, not comfort. lowest ring of Hell 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," Arto replied, his voice devoid of sadness but heavy with the memory of a life spent in a perpetual war zone.
Koneko stopped walking, her golden eyes blinking up at him. She looked at the list, then back at the towering man whose hands were calloused from a thousand battles, yet who now walked with her in a peaceful, sunny neighborhood. Without a word, she reached out and grabbed the hem of his coat, tugging him toward the brightly colored storefront of the local creamery.
[Ice Cream Store]
Arto stands in stunned state witnessing the amount of ice cream flavors they are having in this store. The store was a symphony of pastels and neon swirls, smelling of sugar, cream, and a dizzying array of artificial fruits. To a man who had spent decades eating nutrient-dense grey paste, the sensory overload was almost as taxing as a high-intensity skirmish.
"Pick one," Koneko prompted, her voice still monotone but her eyes scanning the menu with a professional's intensity.
Arto leaned in, squinting at the labels. "Matcha... Durian... Salted Caramel... what is 'Rainbow Sherbet'?" He looked at the colorful scoops, feeling a strange tension in his chest. He wasn't sure how to choose.
"Do you need any help, sir?" An employee asked him gently, her face is in the middle of a giggle as she looks at a fully grown man staring at the ice cream flavors behind the glass like a child seeing this for the first time in his life.
"I... I don't know how it works," Arto admitted, his voice barely a whisper. "How do you choose based on a color? Does the red one taste like fire? Does the blue one taste like... cold? And that green one taste like leaf?
The employee paused, her giggle finally escaping as she looked at the imposing, scarred man who looked as though he could dismantle a fortress with his bare hands, yet was currently defeated by a menu of frozen desserts. "No, sir. Red is strawberry, blue is blueberry, and green is mint or pistachio. You just... pick the flavor you think you'd like."
Arto stared at the options, his mind is swirling again because he hasn't tasted any of this in his life as far as he could remember 'So many...' Arto mummurs his thought, his finger is moving back and forth between colors like a child knowing he only has one option because he hasn't gotten any money yet.
Koneko sighed, a tiny sound that barely registered, and reached up to grab his hand. She didn't say anything, she just pulled his finger towards the tub with bright green color and dark brown chips "Try mint and choco chips, it's a classic."
Arto looked at the scoop, then at the small girl, and finally at the employee. "One of the green and brown ones, please," he said, his voice regaining its steady resonance. As the employee scooped the frozen treat into a waffle cone, Arto felt a strange sensation of apprehension. In his former life, an unknown substance was usually a poison or a biological weapon; here, it was just a treat.
He took his first lick. The cold was an immediate shock, a sharp contrast to the humid afternoon, followed by a burst of refreshing mint and the rich, deep sweetness of chocolate. He paused, his eyes widening as the flavors collided on his tongue. It wasn't just food; it was an experience. For a man who had measured his life in blood and iron, the sheer frivolity of a flavor that existed solely for pleasure felt like a revelation.
"Degoelh gocmin esthul...it's gocmin delicious!" Arto yelled, making everyone in the store turns to him. He hadn't even realized he had slipped back into a weird language no one could understand, his excitement momentarily overriding his linguistic filters. He looked down at the melting green cream, his eyes shining with a childlike wonder that contrasted sharply with the rugged contours of his face. For a moment, the warrior who had commanded armies against the Abyss was completely defeated by a scoop of mint chocolate chip.
Koneko stared at him, her expression remaining flat, though she reached up and poked his arm. "You're being too loud," she whispered, though there was no real annoyance in her voice. "And what's with that weird language you just spoke?"
Arto smiles sheepishly as he scratches his head "That would be my....mother tongue, I said undecent words so I used it to say it in order to have no one understand what I said." Koneko tilted her head, her gaze lingering on him for a moment before she simply turned around to lead the way out of the store. "Hurry up. If the ice cream melts, Rias will be sad."
As they walked back toward the clubhouse, Koneko can't hide her curiosity any longer as she asked him "What exactly did you mean when you said those weird words?" Arto turns to her, not sure if he should say it or not, but a punch from the girl on his arm make him spill "It means 'Holy fucking shit', not decent words for children to hear so I had to use my mother tongue"
Koneko stopped dead in her tracks. She stared up at him, her golden eyes wide, before she slowly turned her head toward the ice cream cone in his hand and then back to his face. A small, rare smile tugged at the corner of her lips. "Considerate," she muttered, then continued walking, her pace slightly peppier.
But before they could head home, 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, ma'am, we didn't."
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 dogs."
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 paw solemnly. "Promise." Then, with a small lupine grin, offering 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 Rias reading newspaper about a white-haired girl riding a large wolf running around Kuoh with questioning look]
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.
"Do you know the animal control of Kuoh is running their asses off to catch that wolf you rode, Koneko? Where did it come from? You never liked dogs to begin with" Rias stands at the door, holding the local gazette with a mischievous glint in her eyes. She holds up the paper, showing a blurry, high-motion photo of a massive gray wolf sprinting through a public park with a very determined, white-haired girl clinging to its back.
Koneko looks at Arto, who has turned his head sideway, gazing at the grass with a sudden, intense interest in nothing. "It was a very fast dog," Arto mumbled, his voice pitching an octave higher than usual.
"A dog," Rias repeated, her voice dripping with amusement as she stepped closer, the newspaper rustling in her hand. "A dog that was reported by our magical wards that ran at mach speed and possessed a mana signature remarkably similar to a certain mercenary we know. Tell me, Arto, do you usually offer taxi services to the local wildlife?"
Arto finally looked up, his expression a masterclass in faux-innocence. "The city has a very diverse canine population, Rias. It's a marvel of urban biodiversity."
Koneko didn't bother lying. She walked past them toward the kitchen, her footsteps light. "He's a better taxi than the bus," she remarked tonelessly, though there was a certain smugness in the way she swung her arms. "And he doesn't stop for red lights."
Akeno appeared from the kitchen, carrying a tray of tea. She paused, peering over Rias's shoulder at the blurry photograph. "My, what a ruggedly handsome beast. Though I must say, the composition of the photo is quite striking. It almost looks like a scene from a fantasy novel." She cast a playful glance at Arto, her eyes twinkling. "Do you think you could manage a ride for me as well, darling? I've always wondered what the view of the city looks like from a wolf's back."
Arto rubbed the back of his neck, feeling the heat rise in his cheeks. "It's... not as comfortable as it looks. Very bumpy." Koneko cuts in, disagreeing "Wrong. Smooth. Fast. Comfortable. Fur soft. Never fall off. Perfect pet" She gives Arto a thump-up that he doesn't want to recieve at all in this kind of situation.
Rias let out a melodic laugh, folding the newspaper and setting it on the coffee table. "A 'perfect pet', is he? I'm starting to wonder if you've completely forgotten that you're a formidable warrior and not a golden retriever, Arto."
"I would call him a Gray Retriever" Akeno joins her King in laughter, her voice a silky purr as she sets the tea tray down. "Though I suspect he's more of a rescue himself. A big, scary wolf who gets defeated by a scoop of mint chocolate chip. But that's beyond the point...."
She comes to wrap her arms around Arto's, giggling contently "It's our time for our bonding date now that everyone has had their private time with our new member, it's my turn to have him" She turns her violet eyes to the man "And you're taking me out for dinner, Darling~"
Seeing her eyes and flirtatous attitude, 'You want to play flirting? Fine, let's play' Arto's mind shifts as he speaks using his knightly demeanor "I would love to take such a fine lady like you out for dinner, especially today when I am quite generous in my wallet. But there is a problem, my lady, I am just in town yesterday, my knowledge of the sites that could match your beauty and grace is still lacking. Perhaps you could guide me to a place that satisfies your tastes?"
Akeno paused, her eyes widening slightly. She had expected him to be flustered, to stumble over his words or perhaps turn red as he usually did. Instead, he had met her gaze with a calm, confident smirk, shifting from the "clumsy puppy" to the "composed gentleman" in a heartbeat. The shift in his aura was subtle but palpable; the mercenary's confidence bled into his social grace, turning the tables on her.
"Oh?" Akeno leaned in, her voice dropping to a whisper, a genuine spark of intrigue lighting up her face. "You're becoming quite the charmer, aren't you, Darling? I didn't think you had it in you." She let out a soft, delighted hum, her grip on his arm tightening just a fraction. "Very well. Since you've asked so politely, I shall guide you. But first, go get yourself a shower and something fancy on, I heard from Buchou there was a ruckus in the mall this morning when you appeared."
Arto chuckled, finally relaxing his posture. "A ruckus? It seems I've gotten quite famous because of my facade," He leans in and gets closer to her ear "but if it's to your liking is the only matter I care about, Lady Akeno, because other eyes, they are fleeting, but yours?...."
Akeno froze, the words hanging in the air like a physical touch. For the first time since they had met, the seasoned flirt of the Gremory peerage was momentarily speechless. Her breath hitched, her violet eyes searching his for a hint of a joke, but she found only a warm, steady sincerity. She blinked, a faint, genuine flush creeping up her neck that had nothing to do with her usual teasing.
"You... you're dangerous, Arto," she murmured, her voice losing its playful edge and softening into something more intimate. She stepped back, though her gaze remained locked on his. "Go on. Shower. Before I decide to keep you as my personal knight for the rest of the evening."
Arto gave a playful bow, his heart drumming a rhythm that felt more exhilarating than any battlefield he had ever walked. As he disappeared upstairs, Akeno was left behind with the rest of the peerage, Koneko has already gotten her ice cream from the fridge and is enjoying the play very much along with Kiba, who was still recovering from his sparring match.
Rias watched the exchange with a knowing smile, Arto's childlike attitude towards new things in this world has made them mistaken him for a naive kid, but it's not, by far when she recalled their negotiation this morning, they were not dealing with a toddler, but a seasoned warrior, diplomat and politician in his own right. He just had a very peculiar way of showing it.
"He's surprisingly good at this, isn't he?" Rias murmured, leaning back into the plush sofa. "He's a 3000 years old man," Kiba added, his voice still a bit raspy from the exertion of the sparring session. He looked at the blurry photo of the wolf in the newspaper. "And he's certainly more versatile than he lets on. I can't imagine the level of control and experience it takes to perform all the roles so on the point, from a curious child to a seasoned warrior to a smooth talker, it's insane how he can shift between those roles so seamlessly."
"And he is all mine tonight~" Akeno added with a playful hum, though she was still subconsciously touching her cheek where the warmth of his gaze had lingered. And similar to Arto, she heads upstairs as well to change into something fitting for the gentleman she is accompanying tonight.
[Timeskip: Brought to you by a wardrobe opening itself]
Arto is in his room with the new clothes he bought today at the mall with Rias, the tux was the immediate choice for a dinner with a woman like Akeno. He stares at himself in the mirror, adjusting the cufflinks. The man reflecting back wasn't the scarred mercenary, nor was he the gray wolf sprinting through the park.
This version of Arto was an....impostor, a facade over the real one underneath, the most suitable, but the furthest from his true self. All the scars are hidden under the spell, leaving a perfect man that wasn't touched by battles and wars.
'A mask too perfect to take off....will I ever forget what's under?' He thinks to himself while rubbing his finger over his prestine face. He doesn't hate the disguise, but the contrast between the man in the mirror and the man who was the living weapon felt like a gap that could never be bridged.
A soft, rhythmic knocking at his door broke the silence. "Arto? If you're admiring yourself in the mirror, please do hurry. I'm losing my patience, and my appetite is starting to outpace my modesty," Akeno's voice drifted through the wood, playful as ever, though there was a new, softer cadence to it.
Arto sighed, a small smile tugging at his lips. He stepped away from the glass, turning back to the woman who is waiting for him as he can see her is more beautiful than ever in her own attire. She wore a deep violet dress that hugged her curves like a second skin, the fabric shimmering with every breath she took. Her hair cascaded over her shoulders, and her eyes sparkled with a mixture of predatory amusement and genuine admiration.
She stopped in her tracks, her gaze traveling from his polished shoes up to the sharp line of his jaw. 'So this is what Rias saw. No wonder~' Akeno thinks to herself while looking at the man before her in the tux. The transformation was jarring; he didn't just look like a nobleman, he radiated the quiet, heavy authority of a man who had walked through the fire and come out the other side with his dignity intact.
"You're staring, Akeno," Arto noted, his voice smooth, though a hint of that old, hesitant mercenary lingered in the corners of his expression. He offered her his arm, his posture straight and formal. "Does the facade meet your approval, or should I go back and find something more... flamboyant?"
Akeno let out a soft, genuine laugh, sliding her hand onto his arm. The contact was electric, a warmth that seeped through the fabric of his suit. "Oh, please don't change a thing. You look like you've stepped straight out of a royal court, and yet," she leaned in, her voice dropping to a sultry whisper, "I can still see the wolf hiding behind those eyes. It makes the suit far more interesting."
"I do aim to impress you, my lady, now, what is our destination tonight, your grace?" Akeno's eyes sparkled, the predatory glint replaced by something warmer. "A little place called L'Éclat. It's tucked away in a quiet alley, very exclusive, very quiet. The kind of place where the staff doesn't ask questions if you happen to bring a date who looks like he could conquer a small nation with a single glance."
Thinking for a moment, Arto relunctantly leaves Akeno's grip "Then you should head downstairs first, my lady, let me just....get you a surprise"
Akeno arched an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued. "A surprise? Arto, if you're trying to play the romantic, you're already winning. I'm not sure what else could possibly be added to this evening." She stepped back, her dress swirling around her ankles, and gave him a playful wink. "Don't take too long, or I might decide to start the appetizers without you."
As Akeno went ahead of him, Arto went back into his room, taking out the magazine he read from the morning started turning the pages while his other hand was lightened up with a magical sigil "Let's see if you work"
[Timeskip: Brought to you by Rias being jealous of Akeno getting to go out with Arto in tux]
Akeno is sitting downstairs with Rias, her chin resting in her palm as she watches the door. Rias is pretending to read a magazine, but her eyes flick toward the stairs every few seconds, her lips pressed into a thin, pouty line. The air in the clubhouse is thick with a strange mixture of anticipation and a very specific, very feminine brand of competitiveness.
"You're staring, Rias," Akeno teases, her voice a melodic hum. "If you're that jealous of my date, you could have just asked for a second invitation. Arto is a very generous man."
Rias huffs, finally snapping the magazine shut. "I'm not jealous. I'm simply wondering why he feels the need to lean so heavily into the 'gentleman' persona. It's almost too much. He's a mercenary, not a debutante."
"That's exactly what makes him fascinating," Akeno replies, her gaze softening. "The way he pivots. Most people are one thing, Rias. Arto is a collection of things. He is a storm, a sanctuary, and a very well-dressed puppy, all wrapped into one."
A honking and engine sound outside the clubhouse captures their attention from outside, making them stand up. Rias and Akeno go out to see what they couldn't believe in their eyes, Arto is standing before a full-blown car, a Ford Mustang GT, in a matte black finish. The engine purred like a predator waiting for the command to strike.
Arto leaned against the hood, the tuxedo fitting him perfectly as he tossed a set of keys into the air and caught them with a casual flick of his wrist. "I recall you mentioning that you liked the 'view' from the wolf's back," Arto said, glancing at Akeno with a wink. "I figured a ride that doesn't require a shower afterward might be a more suitable choice for a dinner date."
Akeno's eyes widened, her gaze shifting from the sleek lines of the car to the man standing beside it. "You bought a car? In the few hours I was upstairs changing?" She stepped closer, running a finger over the cold metal of the door. "Where did you even find a dealership that would sell this model today?"
"I never bought it, my lady, that's the point, I made it from pure mana and a very specific memory of a magazine page," Arto replied, his voice carrying a playful confidence. He gestured vaguely toward the vehicle, where the matte black paint seemed to absorb the twilight, shimmering slightly with a faint, rhythmic pulse of silver light. "For the curious, I will explain it later, just know that I am constructing mana into physical materials and maintaining its form, no engines whatsoever, just controlling it with mana manipulation."
Rias stepped closer, her eyes narrowing as she scanned the car with her own magical perception. "You're insane," she murmured, though her voice was thick with admiration. "Maintaining a structure that complex, with that level of detail, requires an immense amount of focus and precision. Arto, you're treating high-level manifestation like it's a party trick."
Arto just shrugged, opening the passenger door with a smooth, sweeping motion. "A gentleman provides the best possible transport. Now, if the Lady Akeno is ready, the reservation at L'Éclat waits for no one."
Akeno didn't need a second invitation. She slid into the leather seat, her dress pooling around her like a violet cloud, a look of pure delight on her face. As Arto slid into the driver's seat and the car surged forward with a silent, predatory grace, the wind whipped through the open windows, carrying the scent of ozone and expensive cologne. He drove with a focused intensity, weaving through the evening traffic of Kuoh with a precision that felt more like a calculated strike than a commute.
The ride to the restaurant was filled with a comfortable, humming tension. Akeno leaned back, watching the city lights blur into streaks of neon, her shoulder brushing against his. "You're quite the enigma, Arto," she said softly, her voice barely audible over the hum of the illusory engine. "The warrior, the wolf, the nobleman, the magician. I wonder which one is the mask, and which one is the man."
"It's always the guessing that makes things interesting, right, my lady? It's my mean to keep your beautiful eyes on me, and not on the scenery," Arto replied, his voice steady as he navigated a sharp turn with a fluid grace that matched the car's movement.
He pulled the Mustang to a stop in the secluded, cobblestone alleyway that housed L'Éclat. The restaurant was a masterpiece of discretion, marked only by a small, gold-leafed sign and a heavy velvet curtain masking the entrance. As Arto stepped out, he didn't just open the door for Akeno; he did so with a precision of movement that felt choreographed, his presence filling the narrow space and making the dim streetlights seem to brighten.
Taking his hand, Akeno steps down from the car gracefully as the car behind her disappeared like a cloud of mist, the mana structure finally dissolving back into the atmosphere. The velvet curtain parted as a maître d' greeted them with a bow that matched Arto's own formality, guiding them into a dining room that felt less like a restaurant and more like a sanctuary of candlelight and soft jazz. The interior was all dark mahogany and cream-colored silks, with tables spaced far enough apart to ensure that conversations remained private and secrets remained safe.
As they were seated at a secluded booth, the soft glow of the table lamp highlighted the lingering curiosity in Akeno's eyes. She didn't immediately look at the menu; instead, she leaned forward, her chin resting on her hand. "It was indeed an impressive pull, darling, flexing both your gentleman demeanor and magical prowess in one evening. But tell me—does the man who manifests cars from memories and speaks in chivalrous riddles ever actually let anyone in, or is it all just a very well-constructed fortress?"
Arto paused, the mask of the nobleman flickering for a second. He looked at the fine linen napkin on his lap, his mind momentarily drifting back to the cold, damp trenches of his mercenary days where the only 'finery' was the blood-stained steel of a blade. The contrast was dizzying. "It's hard to tell, it's down to the core value of every relationship, that is mutual benefits, which I am lacking at the moment....."
Taking a sip of water, he continues "The whole time I was here, it's all you who provided things for me while I didn't have anything to pay back for it, so I did what I did, showing off my magic prowess, turning into a wolf, and now, manifesting a car out of thin air, it's my own way to market myself, to show you what I can do so that you can trust me. Because when the trust is intact, the deal stands, or else, you can throw me away at any moment."
Akeno stared at him, the playful light in her eyes shifting into something deeper and more piercing. She didn't see a man trying to sell a service; she saw a man who had spent so long as a tool for others that he didn't know how to exist as a person without a purpose or a price. The "gentleman" persona was still there, but the armor had cracked, revealing the raw, honest anxiety of a soldier who feared being useless.
"Mutual benefit," she repeated, her voice barely a whisper. She reached across the table, her fingers grazing the back of his hand. The touch was light, but it anchored him to the present. "Arto, you're thinking like a contractor. But we aren't your clients, and this isn't a mission. Rias doesn't keep you around because you're a 'strategic asset,' and I certainly don't want you for your ability to summon luxury cars."
"That's just saying, and words are wind, Akeno" He turns to her, his eyes devoid of the relaxation and playfulness, leaving only the seriousness she saw in his eyes this morning when he advertised himself to them "Emotional values like you said need a physical foundation to stand on, and that foundation is mutual benefits, once both sides get what they want, we can talk emotions."
Akeno didn't flinch. Instead, she leaned in further, her violet eyes shimmering with a mixture of pity and affection. "Then consider this the first payment of the contract, Arto." She didn't pull her hand away; instead, she slid her palm over his, locking their fingers together. "Tonight, the benefit is simply this: your company. The price you pay is not in mana or combat prowess, but in the simple act of sitting here and letting someone care for you without expecting a mission report in return."
Arto felt a strange pressure in his chest, one that had nothing to do with combat or magical exhaustion. It was a tightness that made it difficult to breathe, a sensation he hadn't experienced since before the wars. He looked at their joined hands—his large and calloused, hers delicate and soft—and for the first time, the tuxedo didn't feel like a mask. It felt like a bridge.
"You are a very persistent woman," Arto murmured, his voice regaining its warmth as he squeezed her hand back. He looked away toward the waiter approaching with a bottle of sparkling water, a ghost of a smirk returning to his lips. "Very well, you have yourself a deal."
"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 let out a soft, startled gasp, her breath hitching as she was pulled flush against his side. For a woman who lived and breathed the art of the tease, being the one caught off guard was a rare sensation. She leaned into him, her head resting against his shoulder, and felt the solid, steady thrum of his heart. The "contract" had shifted; the formal distance he had maintained for hours had vanished in a single, bold stroke of improvisation.
"A whole year, is it?" Akeno murmured, her voice shimmering with amusement. "My, my. You're a very ambitious liar, Arto. Though I must admit, the commitment to the bit is almost romantic, I almost thought you meant what you said~"
"Maybe I am saying the truth, but if it's so, would you?" Arto asked playfully, the knightly demeanor has returned to his eyes, though it was tempered with a genuine, soft curiosity. He didn't pull his arm back; instead, he let Akeno settle into the warmth of his side.
Akeno paused, her laughter trailing off. For a moment, the mask of the playful sadist vanished, leaving behind a woman who was genuinelyConsidering the possibility. "You're far too dangerous to be left to my own devices, Arto. I think a year would be a very short time to tame someone like you."
She looked up at him, her violet eyes reflecting the candlelight of the restaurant. "But if we're playing house, then as your long-term partner, I expect you to order the most expensive dessert on the menu. It's only fair, given your generous wallet."
The tension broke as Arto chuckled, the sound deep and resonant. "A fair treat for a sweet lady, I will oblige to your demand, my lady, but first, entree and main courses, what do you like, to eat, my Akeno?" He pressed extra hard on the my Akeno, the subtle possessiveness of the word making the air between them feel thick. He didn't just want to play the part of the boyfriend; he was testing the boundaries of how much he could disrupt her composure.
Akeno's expression softened, a look of genuine contentment crossing her face as she scanned the menu. "Something light to start, perhaps the scallop carpaccio with citrus zest. As for the main, I've heard their beef Wellington is legendary." She glanced up at him, her eyes dancing. "And for you, Arto? Or are you still pretending to be a man of modest tastes while wearing a suit that costs more than a small apartment?"
"I'll take whatever you recommend," Arto replied, closing his own menu. "My palate is far less refined than yours. I spent too many years eating dried meat and stale bread to be a connoisseur of fine dining. I'd rather trust your taste." He said it with a smile, but the admission of his past was a quiet, honest anchor in the middle of their theatrical romance.
The meal proceeded with a rhythm that felt organic and surprisingly easy. Between bites of exquisitely prepared seafood and sips of vintage wine, they didn't talk of war, devils, or the politics of the Gremory clan.
Instead, they talked about the trivialities—the absurdity of Kuoh's school uniforms, and the strange, quiet peace of the evening. Arto found himself listening more than speaking, captivated by the way Akeno's voice changed when she spoke of things she actually liked, stripped of the sultry artifice she used as a weapon.
As the main course vanished, Arto signaled the waiter. "The most expensive dessert on the menu, for the lady," he stated, his voice regaining that smooth, commanding edge. "And a platter of the finest chocolates for us to share."
The dessert arrived as a masterpiece of gold leaf and dark cocoa, a sculpted tower of chocolate and raspberries that looked more like an architectural feat than food. Akeno looked at the dish and then back at Arto, her eyes shimmering. "You really aren't holding back, are you? I suspect you're trying to bankrupt yourself just to impress me. Tell me, darling, am I your type?"
"More or less. You remind me of someone I loved...long ago, my first. Raven hair, beautiful face, voice like an angel, flirtatious spirit, incredible presence..." He answers, gazing her face while his mind is elsewhere, a ghost of a memory flickering.
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 and angelic, but how it sounds, I couldn't remember. But the way she made me feel... that's the only part that survived the Void, a sensation that made a weapon tingle with something other than adrenaline."
The admission was raw, a sudden stripping away of the tuxedo's nobility. For a moment, the high-end atmosphere of L'Éclat faded, leaving only two people sharing a profound, quiet intimacy. Akeno felt a pang of something she couldn't quite name—not jealousy, but a deep, echoing empathy.
She realized that for Arto, the "mask" wasn't just a tool for social navigation; it was a shield against a past that had stolen everything from him, even the names of the people he had loved.
"You're a very romantic man for someone who claims to be a cold mercenary," Akeno whispered, her hand sliding across the table to cover his once more. "I think I prefer this version. Not the one who manifests cars, but the one who remembers the feeling of a ghost."
Arto blinked, the ghost of the memory receding as he looked back at her. The vulnerability of the moment didn't make him uncomfortable; instead, it felt like a release. He smiled, a genuine, lopsided expression that didn't fit the "perfect man" image in the mirror. "Perhaps. But if we dwell too much on ghosts, the chocolate will melt. And it would be a crime to let a dessert this expensive go to waste."
He picked up a small piece of the chocolate platter and offered it to her, his gaze lingering on her lips. Akeno accepted the treat, her eyes twinkling with a return of her playful spirit. "A truly strategic move, Arto. Using the dessert to pivot away from a sentimental moment. Your tactical training is truly impressive."
"Took me years, but I do know how to make a woman feel appreciated, especially ones who have sad eyes that pack a lot of stories" His dark blue orbs locked onto hers, his voice dropping an octave. He wasn't playing the role of the gentleman anymore; he was simply being a man who recognized a kindred spirit in the art of hiding.
Akeno felt a shiver travel down her spine, one that had nothing to do with the air conditioning of the restaurant. For the first time, she wasn't the one controlling the pace of the interaction. Arto's honesty was a different kind of weapon—one that bypassed her defenses and struck directly at the heart. She leaned back, a small, genuine smile gracing her lips. "Careful, Arto. If you keep this up, I might actually start to believe in the first year lie."
"You may believe it, like I said, I was being honest and sincere....and I never denied it" He said, using a tissue to gently wipe her lips from a stray bit of chocolate. The air between them lingered in a heavy, sweet silence, punctuated only by the soft jazz playing in the background.
Akeno found herself unusually quiet, her mind racing to keep up with the shift in dynamics. She had spent her life as the one orchestrating the tension, the one who knew exactly how to push and pull. But Arto was operating on a frequency she hadn't anticipated; he was treating her not as a prize or a peer, but as a person he was genuinely curious about.
[Timeskip: Brought to you by chibi Arto being hugged by Akeno]
As they eventually rose to leave, Arto didn't simply offer his arm; he draped his jacket over her shoulders, shielding her from the sudden chill of the night air. The fabric still held the warmth of his body, and as they stepped back out into the cobblestone alley, Akeno found herself clinging to the garment, pulling it tighter around her.
Arriving at the parking lot where the Ford Mustang has disappeared, he was about to summon it again, but Akeno stops him "Let us walk a little more, I want to spend more time with you, darling~"
Arto paused, his hand hovering in the air where the mana for the car had already begun to coalesce into a faint, shimmering haze. He looked at her—really looked at her—seeing the way the streetlights caught the violet of her dress and the genuine softness in her expression.
"A tactical error," he murmured, a small, knowing smile playing on his lips as he let the shimmering mana dissipate into the night air. "Choosing the long way home when you're with a woman who knows exactly how to distract a man. Very well, my lady. Lead the way."
[Meanwhile]
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—walking side by side with a guy whose figure they can't mistaken for anyone else even when gazing from his back. He was dressed in a tuxedo that screamed "old money," and he had his arm draped comfortably around Akeno's shoulders, pulling her close in a way that looked entirely too natural.
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, gorgeous 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 pedestrians 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. 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. I thought someone is calling for help or something"
Akeno let out a soft, melodic giggle, leaning her weight against him as she looked toward the alleyway where the three boys were currently scrambling for cover. "Oh, don't worry about it, darling. It was likely just a stray cat—or perhaps a very heartbroken soul. Let's not let a little noise ruin the mood."
He shifted his gaze back to her, the dim streetlights casting long, dramatic shadows across the pavement. "You're right, you're my priority tonight, you should get all the attention," he said, his voice returning to that smooth, velvety cadence.
He began to lead her further away from the source of the noise, his pace leisurely, allowing the silence of the night to wrap around them like a blanket, and the conversation goes on.
"Seriously, darling, where did you find the mana to conjure that car into reality? I noticed your mana pool didn't seem to change at all, I have no doubt about your mana control and precision in maintaining its physical effect, but the source...."
Arto let out a low, thoughtful hum, his gaze drifting toward the crescent moon hanging over the city skyline. He didn't answer immediately, savoring the way Akeno's curiosity clung to him, almost as tangible as her grip on his arm.
"That's....a man's secret, my dear, you'll know eventually when the time is right, maybe after another 'year' of our relationship," Arto teased, his voice humming with a playful mystery.
He gave her arm a gentle squeeze, guiding her past a small park where the cherry blossoms were just beginning to hint at their spring arrival. "But since you're so curious, let's just say that I have way to tame wild mana into stable flows for magical use....."
[Timeskip: Brought to you by Akeno and Arto walking together under the street light]
Returning to the clubhouse after the date, the walk has made the night quite longer for them, the clock has hit 10 o'clock the moment they arrived back at the entrance of the ORC clubhouse.
Arto stopped for a moment, the cool night air finally snapping the bubble of intimacy that had surrounded them since dinner. He stepped back and carefully retrieved his jacket from Akeno's shoulders, the fabric still warm.
"Thank you for a wonderful evening, Akeno," he said, his voice returning to a more grounded, calm tone. "You're quite the companion for a man who usually spends his nights staring at a map or cleaning a blade."
Akeno beamed, her eyes reflecting the moonlight as she stepped closer, her fingers lightly brushing against the lapel of his tuxedo. "And thank you for the contract payment, Arto. I must admit, you're far more interesting when you're not trying to be a professional soldier."
She paused, a mischievous glint returning to her gaze. "Though I suspect Rias will have some very pointed questions about why you're returning with a look of such... profound satisfaction."
As if on cue, the doors to the clubhouse swung open. Rias stood there, her arms crossed, her expression a complex mixture of curiosity and a hint of that jealousy Akeno had teased her about earlier. She didn't say anything at first, her eyes darting from Arto's relaxed posture to the lingering proximity between him and Akeno.
"I see the gentleman has returned," Rias remarked, her voice soft but carrying a weight of authority. "I trust the evening was productive, Arto?" He noded "I had a great company who has refined taste, I have no complaints"
Rias stepped aside to let them in, but her gaze lingered on Arto for a second longer than necessary. There was a subtle shift in the air—a silent acknowledgment of the bond that had clearly deepened between her Queen and her guest.
Akeno, sensing the tension, didn't pull away immediately; instead, she gave Arto a playful wink before sliding past Rias into the clubhouse, her voice a honeyed purr. "He was absolutely divine, Rias. You really should let us have more productive evenings like this."
As Akeno disappeared toward the lounge, the silence between Rias and Arto grew heavy. The moonlight filtered through the windows of the clubhouse, casting long, silver stripes across the hardwood floor.
Arto felt the "noble" mask slipping away, replaced by the weary but satisfied exhaustion of a man who had spent the night pretending to be someone he wasn't, only to find he actually enjoyed it.
"You're becoming quite the fixture here, aren't you?" Rias asked, her tone softening as she walked toward him. She stopped just a few inches away, her crimson hair shimmering like a flame in the dim light. "Akeno is usually the one doing the teasing, but she looks... genuinely happy. What exactly did you do to her tonight, Arto?"
Arto let out a short, quiet laugh, the sound echoing in the cavernous room. "I didn't do anything special, Rias. Just being truthful and sincere—even when the truth is a lie. It turns out that the art of the con and the art of romance are surprisingly similar; both require you to believe in the world you're building for the other person."
He looked down at his cuffs, the polished elegance of the tuxedo now feeling slightly restrictive compared to the openness of the night. Rias watched him, her gaze analytical yet warm. She could see the lingering softness in his eyes, a remnant of the intimacy he had shared with Akeno.
It was a side of Arto that didn't fit the mercenary's profile—a man who could navigate the complexities of a high-end date as easily as he could navigate a battlefield. "You talk about these things as if they're maneuvers in a campaign," she noted, a small, knowing smile appearing on her lips. "But I suspect you enjoyed the maneuver more than you're willing to admit."
"I didn't think it was a campaign, I didn't win or lose, I only got to understand a woman who has a lot of concerns....like you," Arto replied, his gaze shifting to Rias.
He didn't look away, his expression neutral but his eyes holding a flicker of that same honesty he had shown Akeno. "I do hope to understand you more via conversations between us, maybe over a cup of tea in a quiet room, rather than a loud restaurant."
Rias blinked, the sudden shift from tactical analysis to a soft, direct invitation catching her off guard. A faint flush of pink dusted her cheeks, a rare sight for the composed heiress of the Gremory clan. She cleared her throat, regaining her composure, though she didn't step back. "You're quite lucky, I accidentally have a quite a flavorful blend of tea over here, care to join me?"
Arto didn't wait for her to change her mind. He followed her into the heart of the clubhouse, the rhythmic click of his dress shoes on the polished floor providing a steady cadence to the silence. Rias led him toward the small, cozy lounge area where a low table and a few plush armchairs awaited.
The transition from the expansive, cold night to the warmth of the interior felt like a physical relief. As she began to prepare the tea, the clink of porcelain and the soft hiss of the kettle became the only sounds filling the space, creating an intimacy that was starkly different from the curated luxury of L'Éclat.
"You're a strange man, Arto," Rias murmured, her back to him as she poured the steaming liquid into two delicate cups. "You arrive as a soldier, you behave like a ghost, and yet you manage to make everyone around you feel like they've known you for years. Even Akeno... she's not easily shaken, but she came back tonight looking like she'd seen a miracle."
She turned around, handing him a cup. Her eyes were searching, trying to peel back the layers of the man who had so effortlessly integrated himself into her world without ever signing a contract.
Arto took the tea, the warmth of the cup seeping into his palms. He leaned back into the chair, the tuxedo finally feeling out of place in the domestic quiet of the room. "I don't remember carrying a wand with me, but saying it's miracle.....a bit over the board..."
Taking a sip of the warm tea, he can feel himself heating up from the inside "I'm 3000 years old, Rias, while a large portion of it didn't let me talk to a lot of people, but the amount of interactions I've had is a lot more than you youngsters can imagine. So while I seem to know what to say and when to say, it's nothing miraculous. It's just... experience. And maybe a bit of luck."
Rias didn't look convinced. She sat across from him, crossing her legs and leaning forward, her gaze narrowing in that way that usually preceded a strategic demand. "Experience..." he nods
"Yep, when you have to talk to keep your people fed and supplied, to get resources to build your walls, to keep conflicts from getting on us while we prepare to face the Abyss, to keep your men motivated to face the darkness, you'll soon learn how to read the room, the people in it...."
Another sip "....what to say, when to say, how to say, you can control it to steer the situation to match your goal."
He paused, the steam from the tea curling between them like a living thing. "The tragedy is, once you become too good at it, it's hard for even yourself to pinpoint whether if what you're saying is genuinely what you think, or another move on the board to reach a certain goal."
Rias looked at him, the silence stretching. She didn't see a con man; she saw a man who had spent centuries perfecting a shell because the core of him had been scorched by the things he'd witnessed. "And what is the goal right now, Arto?" she asked softly. "There is no Abyss here. No walls to build, no men to motivate. Just a quiet room and a cup of tea."
Arto felt the weight of the tuxedo's collar, a symbol of the persona he had worn for Akeno, and he reached up to loosen the tie with a sigh. The gesture was small, but it signaled a collapse of the distance between them.
"The goal," he murmured, his gaze softening, "is to enjoy what this new life has offered me, a peaceful life as a 'nobody' among the people who know nothing of me to judge. But that will change soon...."
Rias watched him stand up from his seat and headed towards the cart of book she got him, her side of the contract between them, books, knowledge of this world, general ones like physics, chemistry,...and of course, what he specifically requested, a book of basic magic that is taught to toddlers.
And it's exactly what he picked up from the stash "...because you've delivered your end of the deal, it's my turn to deliver mine, and when the result is presented, I can't be a nobody no more" he opens the book with the care and curiosity of a scholar.
Rias leaned back in her chair, her interest piqued. She had provided the resources, but the "result" Arto alluded to remained a mystery. She had seen his combat prowess and his strategic mind, but he had hinted at a refinement of magical theory—a way to integrate efficiency into the chaotic flow of devil magic—that sounded almost heretical to traditional Gremory teachings.
"You're treating a primer for toddlers like it's a forbidden grimoire," Rias noted, a smile tugging at her lips. "Is the magic of this era truly that different from whatever you remember from three millennia ago?"
Arto didn't look up from the page, his finger tracing a simplistic diagram of a mana circle. "The fundamentals are the same—mana, sigils, circles. It's only functioning on a different 'sigils alphabet' from the one of my world due to the difference in how mana flows in 2 realities. The process of translating my magic system using this world's magic language won't take long now that I have this primer as the foundation...."
He closes the book and tosses it into the cart Rias prepared for him "I'll be in my room to start my work, good night, Rias," he lifts the cart with one hand and heads to the staircase, but stops at its foot, looking back at the princess "and thank you, for everything, I won't disappoint you" he shoots her a smile before disappearing upstairs
Rias watched him disappear up the stairs, the silence of the lounge feeling suddenly heavier. She looked down at the empty space where he had stood, a lingering sense of anticipation humming in the air.
Arto was a puzzle that shifted its pieces every time she thought she had found a pattern, but for the first time, she felt she wasn't just analyzing a weapon—she was witnessing the awakening of a man.
In the quiet of his room, Arto shed the tuxedo carefully like removing a sacred regalia, though he doesn't like its restraint on his body, it's still the best suit he has ever worn as far as he could remember, not mentioning it's the suit Rias bought him.
Flattening it with care and precision, he hangs them neatly in the wardrobe for another special occasion. Now, stripped down to a simple cotton shirt and trousers, the "gentleman" is gone, replaced by the mercenary who knows exactly how to listen to the silence of a room.
He doesn't go to bed. Instead, he goes to the desk in the room and places the magic book at its center 'This will be the start, once it's done, the rest will follow' he thinks to himself while searching to a pencil and a notebook.
Looking around the room, Arto notices his armor, the one he arrived here in, it's being hung on the wall with its pieces worn and old like his own age. 'Are they still there, I wonder?' Arto thinks to himself before coming to the armor that he has worn for more than a thousand years as the leader of Abyssgard Legion, it's the symbol of the undisputed leadership, but also the chain wrapped around him, tying him to duty of a commander and others' lives other than his own.
Touching the plates of the armor, Arto felt a faint, ghostly vibration—not a magical pulse, but a memory of weight. For centuries, this steel had been his only skin, a sanctuary that kept the horrors of the Abyss out while keeping the burden of command locked in. But that's not what he was looking for.
Slipping his hand into the armor, he searches for something, 'I stored them here, I supposed.....' He felt the interior of the chest plate, his fingers grazing a hidden compartment beneath the lining, a space designed for a secret that could change the tide of a war.
There, tucked away in a velvet-lined slit, were 2 things he found. 'They're here? Weird' Arto tilts his head, it's something that he didn't expect to appear inside this, but they are.
Pulling them out, there are 2 things, one is a silver necklace with the pendant of a round-shaped bird with white eyes and beak, fluffy dark blue feather and 2 tufts that look like tiny horns. Arto felt a stinging sensation in his nose, his vision is getting blurry because of the tears swelling at the corner of his eyes.
Turning the back of the pendant to him, Arto sees it, a carefully carved phrase of his mother tongue 'Ahd laevyuk yakho', 'I love you' in a language that he is the only one who could understand. The silver is tarnished, the metal cold against his palm, yet it carries a weight that far exceeds its physical mass. He closes his eyes.
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. So much."
He pressed the necklace to his forehead for a long moment . "I hope… wherever you are… you found this. The last gift I left on my corpse before the end. I hope it reaches you. I hope you remember me through it… when no one else does. When even I can't."
Wrapping the necklace around his neck, Arto takes a look at the second one, a letter covered in blood....his own blood. The paper is old, yellowed, and brittle, smelling faintly of iron and ancient dust. The letter was written in Cralisk as he usually calls it, a method of writting for blind people using bumps so that they can read with their finger tips.
Running his finger through the first line of the letter, left to right, he can feel his tears falling down even harder "Dear mother" the text began.