The first thing Aki felt as consciousness fully returned was warmth. A heat that wasn't from the rain, nor the alley bricks under him. It was her. Silver hair brushed against his cheek, her skin pressed close in a way that made his pulse spike. His chest rose and fell in sync with hers, and the faint, lingering power of her mana still wrapped around him like a cocoon.
He froze. His mind raced. Why is she naked?
"Uh… Akeno?" His voice was hoarse, brittle with lingering shock. His system pinged in the back of his mind, processing the irregular mana flow, tagging her proximity as significant, intimate, high influence.
She blinked slowly, a faint blush brushing her cheeks, yet her composure remained perfect. She had always carried herself with a teasing confidence, and now it seemed almost predatory in the way her silver eyes met his.
"You woke up," she said softly, voice a warm hum that seemed to vibrate in the air. "You should be careful with your words."
Aki's face flamed. "I… uh… why are you… naked?"
Akeno's smile deepened. "Oh. That." She leaned slightly closer, letting her silver hair cascade over her shoulder like a curtain of light. "In our world… as devils, certain types of healing are more effective when there is direct physical contact. Mana flows more efficiently… with minimal barriers. It's how I helped you stabilize your Gun Devil fragment and recover from near-death."
His throat went dry. "So… you—"
"Exactly," she replied smoothly, her tone teasing yet practical. "You were unconscious. The mana transfer was necessary. And yes… it does require… proximity." She tilted her head coyly. "You're welcome, by the way."
Aki's system chimed quietly in the background, tagging her words and her aura as "high influence, potential relationship impact," something he found simultaneously fascinating and embarrassing.
He coughed, scratching the back of his head awkwardly. "Uh… thanks… I guess."
Rias, watching from a distance atop the alley steps, crossed her arms, crimson hair falling over her shoulders. "We can deal with… that later," she said sharply, trying to regain focus. Her gaze returned to Aki, critical yet intrigued. "What matters now is you. That fragment… that power. We cannot ignore it. You have potential… unusual potential. Extraordinary, in fact. I want you to join my peerage. To train under me. To be protected, to grow your abilities to their maximum."
Aki, still leaning slightly against the wall where Koneko had helped him stabilize earlier, shook his head slowly. "I… appreciate it," he said quietly, eyes narrowed slightly. "But I don't belong in anyone's peerage. Not yet. Not with this fragment, not like this. I work better… alone. I make my own choices."
Koneko's tail flicked behind her, a subtle sign of approval. Her arms were crossed, stoic, as always. "I agree," she said plainly. "It's safer if he isn't bound to another peerage. Especially one like Rias's."
Rias's crimson eyes narrowed, but her lips curved slightly in amusement. "You're stubborn, aren't you?"
"Maybe," Aki replied, voice low but firm. "But I survived last night on my own. I'll continue surviving on my own. For now, I don't need anyone controlling my fate, not even someone like you."
Akeno chuckled softly, brushing a hand through her hair. "I like that," she said. "Confident. Independent. Strong enough to fight the odds. And yet…" She looked him over with a teasing smile, "vulnerable enough to need help."
He groaned internally, heat rising to his ears. He wanted to say something sharp, but the words tangled in his throat. He had never been good at flirting or banter. Instead, he simply sat there, trying to make sense of the situation while processing the lingering effects of the fragment and her healing mana.
Koneko crouched beside him, eyes scanning him critically. "You should move somewhere safe," she said. "You're still recovering. The fragment is stable now, but it could surge if you push yourself."
"Yeah," Aki admitted. "I need… food. And rest." His voice was hoarse.
Akeno's expression softened slightly. "I'll leave you to that. You'll recover fully with proper nourishment." She rose gracefully, silver hair gleaming in the weak morning sun, and stepped back, giving him a respectful distance while keeping her aura nearby.
Rias tilted her head, evaluating him one last time. "Think carefully about your choices, Aki. Power like yours… it won't wait. Opportunities will come, and you'll have to decide who you trust. And who you oppose."
Aki met her gaze, level and calm. "I'll decide for myself. That's all I need to say."
Rias's eyes glimmered with a mix of challenge and curiosity. "Very well," she said, stepping back. "For now, we'll observe."
Koneko extended a hand. "Come on," she said quietly. "I'll take you somewhere to eat. And maybe… talk a little. You need to stabilize your energy fully."
Aki allowed her to help him to his feet. Even though his Gun Devil fragment had stabilized, he could feel the residual traces of its energy humming faintly under his skin, a reminder of last night's near-death experience and the raw potential he now wielded.
They walked down the quieter streets of Kuoh, rain now fully faded into drizzle. The city smelled faintly of wet asphalt and early morning life — distant sounds of carts, street vendors, and the first bustle of townspeople returning to their routines.
Koneko remained stoic, tail flicking lightly as she observed him. "You fought well," she said softly, almost as if speaking to herself. "But you nearly died. Don't take that lightly."
Aki shrugged, attempting a casual tone that didn't quite reach his eyes. "I've faced worse. I'll live. I always do."
Koneko's ears twitched slightly. "You have a strong will. But even the strongest can fall. That fragment is dangerous. Uncontrolled, it could consume you."
"I know," he admitted quietly. "But I'll figure it out. I always do."
They finally arrived at a small, quiet restaurant near the edge of the city — one that catered to hunters and others with special abilities, the type of place that accepted unusual patrons without questions.
Koneko opened the door silently, leading him inside. Aki allowed her to guide him to a table in the corner, seated away from prying eyes. The warmth inside was comforting, contrasting sharply with the damp cold of the alley.
As they sat, the waiter brought menus, but Aki waved them off. "I'll just take whatever's strong on energy. High protein, mana-infused if you have it."
Koneko's lips twitched in a faint smirk. "You always eat like that?" she asked, her tone neutral but curious.
"Always," he admitted. "After fights, after long nights… food keeps me grounded. And alive."
They ate in near silence at first, the only sounds the quiet clatter of dishes and their own breathing. The meal was warm and hearty — a small stew laced with subtle magical ingredients to help stabilize his fragment. He felt the warmth spreading through him, his body recovering further.
"You're… surprisingly human after all that power," Koneko remarked finally, breaking the silence.
Aki glanced at her, smirking faintly. "Power doesn't make you inhuman. It just makes survival more interesting."
Koneko raised an eyebrow but said nothing, continuing to eat. The tension between them had shifted slightly — no longer just protector and protected, but tentative allies sharing a quiet moment of peace.
Outside, Kuoh's streets were coming alive with morning activity, unaware of the hidden power resting quietly inside the city. Inside, at the corner table, Aki and Koneko shared a meal — the first of many steps toward understanding each other, toward the quiet, slow stabilization of not just his body, but the chaotic potential of the Gun Devil fragment now entwined with his fate.
And though he didn't say it aloud, Aki's thoughts lingered on the silver-haired devil who had healed him. Her presence, her mana, and the teasing warmth of her form would not be easily forgotten. He'd survived the night. But the day — and what came next — promised challenges that would test both his power and his resolve.
For now, though, he allowed himself the rare moment of normalcy: food, warmth, quiet company. Even if only for a fleeting morning, it was enough to remind him that survival, while often violent and brutal, could also have its small comforts.