Akeno Himejima. That was her name.
Daughter of a fallen angel and a human—destined to become the Thunder Priestess, the Queen beside crimson-haired Rias Gremory. But right now, she was just a lost girl, orphaned by hatred, estranged from her father, wandering the world without direction or hope.
Tenra watched her, quietly amazed. Fate had a twisted sense of humor.
"I'm a swordsman," he said, voice gentle, "traveling the world to hone my skills."
He paused, then asked, "What about you? Do you have a goal? Somewhere you want to go?"
He already suspected the truth, but he wanted to hear it from her.
"I… I don't know."
Akeno cradled her wounded spirits, shaking her head again and again.
Her mother's death had left a wound too deep to heal. She didn't know what she wanted, didn't know where she belonged. She drifted, empty and aimless.
Tenra considered her for a moment, then smiled.
"If you don't know… then come with me. Let's see the world together."
"You… you don't hate me?"
Akeno looked up, disbelief written across her face.
"Hate you? Why would I?"
He laughed, as if the idea was absurd.
"Because… because I'm the child of a fallen angel and a human. My blood is… filthy."
Her voice trembled with self-loathing. She hated her wings, hated her bloodline—they were the source of all her suffering.
Tenra knelt beside her, meeting her eyes.
"You're the child of a fallen angel and a human. I'm the child of a devil and a human."
He tapped her forehead lightly, grinning.
"Don't you think that's fate, Akeno?"
Shock flickered across her features. She knew what devils were—her mother had told her enough. Devils were monsters, just like fallen angels.
And yet, this boy who'd saved her was half-devil, half-human. Just like her.
"A devil… you're a devil?"
"A half-devil, half-human," Tenra corrected, still smiling. "Devil or human, even if everyone hates me, I've never thought my blood was dirty. I am who I am."
He held out his hand.
"So, Akeno—will you come with me? Be my companion?"
Akeno stared at him, lost in his earnest gaze. For the first time in ages, something warm flickered in her cold, dark world—a sliver of light breaking through the gloom.
—
"Master, why did you spare that fallen angel's spawn?"
"Yeah, Master! That boy protected her—he's been corrupted by darkness, he's a heretic!"
"Master, we can't just let them go!"
The mages, their pride wounded, trailed after their leader through the forest, unable to understand why he'd shown mercy.
"Enough. Leave this place—now!"
The middle-aged mage snapped, face grim. He strode forward, but after a few steps, he suddenly froze.
The others halted, confused—until they saw it too.
Black feathers. Drifting slowly from the sky.
A fallen angel.
A voice echoed above them, smooth and mocking.
"Let me explain, gentlemen. Your master spared those children because he sensed my presence."
"Good evening, mages."
All eyes turned upward. A man floated above them, twelve black wings unfurled, smiling and waving as if greeting old friends.
"A fallen angel!"
"Twelve wings—!"
Terror rippled through the group. They'd fought fallen angels before, but never one with twelve wings. That was the mark of a legend—the highest echelon of their kind.
The middle-aged mage's face was stone, but the younger ones paled.
The man grinned wider.
"That's right—I'm a fallen angel. In fact, I'm Azazel, Governor-General of the Fallen Angels."
He winked.
"Don't recognize me? I'm the one from the Bible—fell from grace for grabbing a woman's chest."
The words were light, almost playful, but they landed like thunder.
Azazel. The legendary fallen angel.
The young mages trembled. Only the leader managed to keep his composure.
"Azazel! Why are you here? Are you planning to start another war?"
Azazel shrugged, unconcerned.
"Oh, don't be so dramatic. I hate war as much as anyone. I'm here because you mages bullied my friend's daughter. So I thought I'd bully you back."
His smile sharpened, cold and dangerous.
"I see…"
The middle-aged mage let out a bitter laugh, relief flickering in his eyes. As long as war wasn't on the table…
But regret gnawed at him. If he'd known that girl was connected to Azazel, he would have destroyed her without hesitation.
Too late now. He straightened, resolve hardening.
Even if they couldn't win, they would never bow to evil.
"Lightning, come forth!"
He raised his staff, spiritual power surging. A sphere of lightning crackled and shot toward Azazel.
Azazel's lips curled. He conjured a spear of light and hurled it down to meet the attack.
The sky erupted—thunder and brilliance colliding, shaking the forest.
—
"Tenra, what's wrong?"
Akeno's cheeks flushed as Tenra carried her on his back. She felt him pause, tense.
He glanced toward the distant battle, then shook his head.
"It's nothing. Let's keep moving."
—
"Well, well. I only meant to rough you up a little, but you mages really do love fighting to the end."
Azazel hovered above the ruined forest, a mischievous smile on his lips. He spread his wings and shot into the sky.
"A girl born of fallen angel and human. A boy born of devil and human. Fate… you never fail to amuse me."
~~~❃❃~~~~~~~~❃❃~~~
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