POV: Hikaru
"So, let me get this straight," she said as she pressed her fingers against her temple, trying to steady the growing headache. "You saw one of your classmates fighting creatures straight out of myth, and because of what you somehow believed to be a reasonable decision, you charged directly at that monster without any power, without any plan, for no reason at all, I might add and nearly got yourself killed, only to then be resurrected as a devil by that same classmate, who also happens to be a devil."
After Charlemagne and the others from the Hero Faction had departed, she - along with Zekka Miyamoto who had for reasons unknown chosen to accompany her - had followed her brother to this quiet and strangely comforting house located somewhere within the Dimension Gap.
Her brother sat across from her at the table, calmly eating from the bowl of ramen she had just prepared, as though the conversation did not concern life and death at all.
"Well, I wouldn't say it was for no reason at all," he replied, taking another mouthful. "I believed she was in danger since the cyclops had managed to trap her. I acted based on what I believed was the right thing to do at that moment."
Now that she could observe him up close, beyond the overwhelming perfection of his altered appearance, she could still recognize fragments of the person she had always known. The intensity in his eyes remained unchanged, sharp and perceptive as ever.
The slight narrowing of his gaze when he spoke seriously, the faint tension at the corner of his lips when he was being stubborn, the almost imperceptible lift of one eyebrow when he found something mildly amusing, these were all details so small that only someone who had known him intimately would notice them.
"You almost died!" she shouted, raising her voice so that the weight of those words could not be ignored. "Do you have any idea what that would have done to Mom and Dad? What do you think they would've felt after sending their son to a prestigious school to build a future, only to get a corpse in return. Do you understand the kind of grief that would have brought upon them?!"
"Was I supposed to stand by and let a classmate die?" he asked in return, his tone even.
She did not answer immediately. The words she wanted to say, that his life mattered more to her than that of a stranger, felt selfish even as they formed in her mind. She knew that what he had done came from the same place it always had, that instinctive need to help someone in danger without considering himself, and she could not truly condemn him for that.
"It was reckless in hindsight," he continued, his voice quieter now. "Especially since I later realized that Rias would have won regardless of my involvement. But I simply didn't know that at the time. And I didn't die… so I don't see much value in dwelling on what could've been."
She had to blink back the sting in her eyes at that. She looked at him in silence for a few moments, struggling to understand how he could dismiss something so easily, as though his own life held so little weight. It hurt in a way she had not expected, hearing him speak about his near death as though it were an insignificant detail. As if his absence wouldn't have shattered the people who loved him.
"What could've been is exactly why we are here now, isn't it?" she said quietly, her voice losing its earlier sharpness.
He lowered his gaze at that, his expression dimming as he fell into silence, continuing to eat without speaking. There was a heaviness about him that she had not noticed at first, a quiet loneliness that seemed to linger beneath everything he did. She felt her chest tighten as she watched him.
Brother, I wish I could take that from you. I wish I could carry whatever it is that weighs on you so that you would not have to bear it alone.
"Why did this… Rias decide to reincarnate you?" she asked after a while, her voice softer now.
She knew enough about devils to understand that powerful families did not casually reincarnate ordinary humans. Her brother had possessed no Sacred Gear, no visible connection to the supernatural, nothing that would make him a valuable acquisition under normal circumstances.
"She felt indebted," he answered. A faint smile appeared on his face, softer than anything she had seen from him since their reunion. "Rias is a genuinely kind person. You wouldn't believe she was a devil if you met her. She couldn't accept the idea of someone dying while trying to help her, so she used an Evil Piece to bring me back."
Hikaru noticed the change in his expression as he spoke, the warmth that entered his voice when he mentioned her name. It was clear that he respected her, perhaps even admired her. It was so typical of her brother to act without hesitation when someone was in danger, regardless of the consequences to himself.
That reckless sense of justice, that unwavering instinct to protect others, it was inseparable from who he was. She could not truly be angry at him for it, just as one could not blame fire for burning or the sun for shining. Yet that did not make it easier to accept.
"That doesn't comfort me at all," she said. "What if she had not been able to save you? What if she had chosen not to? Were we supposed to accept that you died so pointlessly?"
"But she did, and I'm still here," he replied.
She let out a tired sigh, realizing that she would not be able to make him see things from her perspective. To him, it was a resolved outcome, a situation that had ended without loss. To her, it had been a moment that came far too close to taking him away forever.
"No thanks to you," she said dryly. "If Rias hadn't been someone with a bit of conscience, we wouldn't be having this conversation ... Still, you are right in one regard. There is no value in continuing to argue over something that has already passed."
She took a bite of her noodles, though she barely registered the taste. Her thoughts drifted to their parents, to what they would have said if they were here. She could almost hear their voices, offering guidance, reprimanding him for his recklessness, reminding him of the value of his own life.
Yet the image that followed was only of their lifeless bodies, and the memory struck her with a quiet, lingering pain that she could not easily dispel.
"I suppose we should count ourselves fortunate that Rias possessed both the kindness and the ability to bring you back," she said softly, a quiet sense of gratitude forming toward someone she had never even met.
"Well, I wouldn't go as far as to call it fortunate," he said with a slight shrug. "She did turn me into a slave in the process."
Hikaru considered her response carefully. She wanted to say that she would choose his life over his freedom without hesitation, that even in servitude he was still here, still breathing, still someone she could speak to. Yet she knew her brother well enough to understand that such a statement would only provoke him.
"Did she ever mistreat you?" she asked instead, focusing on what truly mattered. "Was she cruel to you in any way?"
"Not at all," he answered. "If anything, she has been considerate to a fault. She has treated me with a great deal of care and has made an effort to ensure that I am comfortable in my new circumstances."
"That's somewhat hard to believe," she said, her voice carrying a note of skepticism that she did not bother to conceal. "We were raised to believe that all devils are inherently malicious, and my experiences with the Hero Faction have only reinforced that belief. The few stray devils I encountered during missions did nothing to challenge that. If anything, they confirmed it."
"Rias is an exception," he replied with a small smile. "She's not perfect, of course. Her upbringing created certain blind spots that she doesn't fully recognize. For example, she doesn't view the peerage system as inherently problematic as long as she treats those under her with kindness. That is, in my opinion, her greatest flaw. Even so, it doesn't diminish who she is as a person. We made a deal, you know."
"What kind of deal?" she asked, narrowing her eyes slightly. "And I'm fairly certain that Mom and Dad raised us to avoid making deals with devils."
Haruki let out a soft chuckle. "She asked me to give her six months. Her intention was to show me that being a member of her peerage would not be as restrictive or unpleasant as I might assume. If, after those six months, I still believed that I didn't belong there, she promised that she would release me without resistance."
Hikaru found herself genuinely surprised by that, though suspicion followed quickly behind it. After everything she had witnessed in such a short span of time, she found it difficult to accept such generosity without questioning its sincerity.
"I'm thinking there is a string attached to it," she said flatly.
"There wasn't," he replied, a faint laugh escaping him. "I had the same reaction when she said it, but she meant every word."
"She sounds like a good person," Hikaru admitted after a moment. "Even though I believe that such kindness is largely wasted on you. If I had to guess, you only accepted her offer because it provided you with the opportunity to grow stronger until you could stand on your own."
"Now, you're just being mean," he said lightly, though there was amusement in his tone.
"Am I wrong?"
"No," he admitted without hesitation. "You're not wrong. I could never accept freedom that was handed to me. If I am to be free, it will be because I broke those chains myself."
There it was, that familiar pride that defined him. She had thought that everything he had gone through might have tempered it, but it remained as unyielding as ever.
"And did you?" she asked. "Did you become strong enough to break those chains?"
"That's a long story," he said, his expression turning distant.
"Time is all we have, brother dearest," she replied softly. "So go on, tell me. I want to know everything you have been through."
My brother, she thought, her chest tightening as she looked at him. My sweet brother.
The feeling twisted within her, a mixture of relief and lingering pain at seeing him again after so long. She wanted to hear him speak the way he used to, to ramble and complain and explain things in that familiar way that once filled their home with life. She wanted, even if only for a moment, to return to a time when the world had not yet been torn apart around them. The memory of that day still lingered within her, sharp and unyielding.
"It started when I met a nun named Asia," he began, his voice carrying a quiet note of nostalgia.
From there, the words flowed steadily. He told her everything, about the fallen angels and the exiled exorcists, about the ritual that had been prepared to sacrifice Asia in order to steal her Sacred Gear. He told her how he had intervened and saved her, and how that moment had changed everything that followed. He spoke of the ability he had developed, Sacramentum, and how he had used it to sacrifice a fallen angel in order to increase his own power.
"You danced naked in front of a nun in the middle of a fire?!" she asked, staring at him in disbelief.
"I was drunk by the power I had just acquired," he replied defensively. "My mental state was not exactly stable at the time, so I would appreciate it if you kept your judgment to yourself."
She shook her head, though a faint trace of amusement lingered in her expression, and allowed him to continue.
He spoke of the arranged marriage involving Rias Gremory, and how he had accompanied her to the Underworld in order to train and prepare for the confrontation that would break off the engagement. As he continued, his voice began to soften, losing its earlier steadiness, and he avoided meeting her gaze.
Then he spoke of Cao Cao. He told her how effortlessly he had been defeated, how completely he had been overpowered, and how Cao Cao had taken her away while he could do nothing to stop it. That explained far more than she had expected. To think that Cao Cao had lied to her so thoroughly unsettled her deeply. It also made Haruki's hatred toward him far easier to understand.
Had Cao Cao been so consumed by his hatred of the supernatural that he no longer recognized the lines he was crossing, that he could tear a brother from his sister without hesitation and still believe himself righteous?
The very purpose of the Hero Faction was to protect humanity from such suffering, from monsters that tore loved ones apart, and yet in this instance, he had become that very monster. For what crime had her brother committed at that point?
"I'm sorry," her brother said quietly.
"For what?" she asked, confused.
"...For being too weak," he replied, his gaze lowering. "For not being there when you needed me the most… I-I…I was not strong enough to stop Cao Cao from taking you. I failed to protect you."
She slapped him.
"Stop it!" she said firmly, her voice trembling with restrained emotion. "How is that in any way your fault, you idiot? HUH!?"
"I'm your older brother," he said, his voice tightening. "I'm supposed to protect you…and yet, I couldn't do a thing while they took you away…oh god, what if they'd done something terrible to you?...It's all my fault."
"They did not," she replied firmly. "And since when do you concern yourself with what could've been? You're the one who keeps dismissing those possibilities. You can't take responsibility for everything that goes wrong in the world, you narcissistic bastard!! It's not your fault at all, get that through that thick skull of yours."
He did not respond, but the look in his eyes made it clear that her words had not reached him.
"Mom and Dad called me that day, you know," he said quietly. "They asked me to check on you because your nightmares had returned. 'You two have always been close, maybe you can calm her' they said. They trusted me to be there for you. I failed them!"
"You did call me," she said quickly. "You calmed me, even if it was only for a short time."
"It was not enough," he replied. "Not even close to enough. Hikaru, I was not ignorant of the nature of this world. I already knew about the supernatural."
His hand clenched into a fist, his expression darkening with self-directed contempt. "I understood that nightmares like yours could signify something more, that they could be the result of external interference, of something manipulating your mind. It could have been a dark entity, or the manifestation of a Sacred Gear, or any number of possibilities....The point is that only a fool would have dismissed it as something harmless."
A bitter laugh escaped him. "If I had simply decided to come and see you that day, none of this would have happened. Do you know why I didn't come?"
"I don't," she replied softly, her voice trembling.
"Because I thought it could wait," he said, his tone laced with a quiet, cutting self-mockery that seemed to turn inward with every word. "Can you believe that? Hahaha!… I wasn't so naive that I didn't understand the danger. Any decent person, much less a brother who claims to love his sister, would have gotten up that instant and checked on their loved one, no matter what they were doing. I did not, and it's all my fault."
His clenched fist had begun to bleed, the skin split where his nails dug in, yet he did not seem to notice or care.
"Apparently, exploring the world of magic that I had so recently become so fascinated by mattered more to me than checking on my sister, my own blood," he continued, his voice tightening as though each word weighed more than the last. "It wouldn't have taken long for me to come to you and make sure everything was alright, but I did not. Ten minutes!"
She could no longer hold back her tears. She wept for him, for the weight of guilt he carried so completely within himself.
Oh brother, what have I done to you? It's not your fault, it can't be your fault, she insisted silently, yet the words would not pass her lips, trapped somewhere between grief and helplessness.
"It took me only ten minutes, flying at my top speed, to reach our hometown," he said, and now his voice had begun to fracture under the strain. "Ten minutes. And yet I couldn't bring myself to make that journey when you needed me. Tell me, if our roles were reversed, if I had called you for help, would you have told me to wait?"
She could not answer him, because any answer felt like it would only deepen the wound he was already pressing into himself, and so she wept harder, her silence saying everything that words could not.
"No, you would not," he said at last, his voice dull with exhaustion. "I did."
"You couldn't have known, brother," she said, forcing the words through her tears, her voice trembling with urgency as though she could still reach him if she tried hard enough. "None of us could have known. I have had those nightmares since I was a child. Do you remember how I used to come to your room in the middle of the night because I was too afraid to sleep alone? You would let me stay without a word, even when it meant you couldn't sleep yourself. You couldn't have known that this time would be any different from all the others."
"Oh, but I did," he replied softly, and that quiet certainty frightened her. "I had context for it. I knew it could be connected to the supernatural. I could have checked… I should have checked. Don't you understand, sister, that I killed our parents? It was my inaction that killed them. There is no one else to blame but me. I'm sorry that you had to endure so much because of me."
Her tears broke free completely at that, spilling without restraint as the weight of his words crushed whatever fragile composure she had left, and he too began to weep, covering his face with his hands as though he could hide from the truth he had already condemned himself to believe.
She wanted to argue, to deny it with everything she had, to tell him that he was wrong and that none of it was his fault, that he could not have known, that no one could have foreseen what had happened, yet she knew him too well.
He had already judged himself, already reached a conclusion from which he would not be swayed. In his mind, he had become the sole cause of everything that had gone wrong.
He rose then and crossed the small distance between them before pulling her into an embrace as she sobbed, and she felt the warmth of him, the familiar steadiness of his presence, the same presence that had always made her feel safe, even now when he could not see that he was the one unraveling.
"I'm sorry, Hikaru," he murmured softly against her, his voice unsteady. "I didn't mean to make you cry…"
"No," she replied stubbornly, her grip tightening around him. "I want to cry. Oh, God! What have I done to you, Haruki. What have I allowed to happen to you?"
He drew back slightly, just enough to look at her, and there was a faint, sorrowful smile on his face that held no trace of comfort.
"You did nothing, sister," he said quietly. "You were only one among many, a name in the long list of those who suffered simply because they happened to exist in my vincity."
"Look at you," she said, her voice breaking as despair overtook her. "Look at what you have become, how unhappy you are, and you still try to carry it all alone as though it is yours to bear. And all of that because of me."
Unable to hold herself back any longer, she stepped forward and threw her arms around his neck, holding him as tightly as she could, as though she could keep him from slipping any further into the grief he refused to release, her tears falling freely as she clung to him in silence.
She washed her face slowly, letting the cool water run over her skin as she wiped away the dried tracks of tears that had begun to tighten uncomfortably against her cheeks. When she was done, she lingered for a moment, staring faintly at her own reflection as if trying to gather the scattered pieces of herself back into something steady.
She had left her brother because she had become too overwhelmed to be of any real help to him, her emotions rising too quickly and too strongly for her to think clearly. What she needed now was distance, if only for a little while, so that she could calm herself and decide what she should say to him when she returned.
"Are you alright?" Miyamoto asked, the small girl standing hesitantly by the bathroom door.
"Yeah, I'm fine," Hikaru replied automatically, the words coming out with practiced ease, the same hollow reassurance one gives out of habit when asked by someone who does not truly expect an honest answer.
"You don't look fine," Miyamoto said, her voice simple and direct.
"Are you always this nosy?" Hikaru asked as she reached for a towel and began to dry her face, her tone carrying a faint edge that lacked any real bite.
"Well, that's what friends do, isn't it?" Miyamoto asked shyly, her fingers fidgeting slightly at her sides. "They ask about each other when they're feeling down. We're friends, right?"
Hikaru found herself smiling despite everything. There was something disarmingly sincere about the girl, something so earnest that it was impossible not to be affected by it.
There was something almost fragile in her eagerness, as though the idea of friendship itself was still new to her, something she was trying to understand by practicing it aloud. It stirred a quiet sadness in Hikaru, the realization settling in that someone so young could carry that kind of loneliness for so long.
"You've never really had friends before, have you?" Hikaru asked, her tone casual though her curiosity was genuine.
"Not really," Zekka Miyamoto admitted, her expression tinged with embarrassment as she looked down slightly. "Is that a bad thing?"
"It isn't a bad thing to have no friends," Hikaru said softly, her voice gentler now as she looked at the younger girl. "Were you homeschooled or something that made it difficult to meet people your age?"
"No," Miyamoto answered, her posture straightening a little as she spoke more seriously. "I went to school like everyone else, Yamashiro-san. I always wanted to have friends, but they all said that my vibes were off. I suppose my strange looks made people keep their distance."
"Call me Hikaru,," Hikaru said, her smile returning, quieter this time yet more deliberate. "If we are friends, there's no need to be so formal."
"…Y-yeah. I'll do that, Hikaru-chan," Zekka said, testing the name carefully as though it were something fragile. "Because that's what friends do. Then can you also call me Zekka?"
Hikaru let out a soft chuckle at the way she repeated that phrase as though she had memorized it and was determined to apply it correctly, like someone learning how to behave in a world that had always excluded her. There was something oddly endearing in it, like someone trying to piece together the meaning of connection step by step.
"Of course, Zekka-chan," Hikaru replied. "And for what it's worth, I have met far stranger people than you, and you don't stand out in a negative way. You seem perfectly normal to me. It's possible that your Sacred Gear releases a hostile aura subconsciously, which might make others uncomfortable without understanding why."
"You think so as well?" Zekka asked, her face lighting up with relief. "I wasn't sure if it was because of my Sacred Gear, and I didn't really have anyone I could ask. And Tensei refuses to give me a proper answer."
"Tensei?" Hikaru asked, tilting her head slightly.
"It's my Sacred Gear," Zekka explained. "That's his name. He's a huge pervert, but he's also very helpful."
"That's actually amazing," Hikaru said, a spark of genuine interest breaking through her earlier heaviness. "My sacred gear can't talk at all. It only manifests when it wants to tear something apart. It would have been really helpful if I could communicate with it."
"But you were able to summon it earlier whenever you wanted," Zekka pointed out, her gaze sharpening slightly with interest.
"Yeah, I have been training to control it," Hikaru said. "It responds to negative emotions like distress, anger, or fear, and it manifests to eliminate whatever it perceives as the source of those feelings. I have learned to regulate my emotions to some extent, so I can summon and control it, though only partially."
They made their way back to the living room as they talked, settling down together on the couch, the quiet of the space wrapping around their conversation in a calmer, steadier rhythm.
"Why did you decide to come with me, anyway?" Hikaru asked after a moment, glancing at her curiously. "I don't believe I can help you become the strongest swordswoman. I don't even know how to wield a sword properly."
"Because you were kinder than the other girl… Charlemagne was her name, I believe," Zekka said. "And I could teach you how to use a sword if you wish. I only wanted to become the strongest swordswoman so that I could find friends."
Hikaru blinked at that, the reasoning catching her slightly off guard. "What does becoming the strongest swordswoman have to do with finding friends?" she asked, unable to hide her confusion.
"I'm a descendant of the legendary swordsman Musashi Miyamoto," Zekka answered, her voice carrying a quiet pride. "My grandmother told me stories about how he was the greatest swordsman of his time, and how he was respected and admired. I thought that if I could become just as great, people would naturally want to be around me."
Hikaru studied her face, trying to determine whether there was any hint of humor in her expression, yet Zekka remained entirely earnest. The logic felt strange, yet there was something painfully understandable beneath it, a simple belief that being exceptional in something would make people stay.
"Would you like to talk about why you were upset earlier?" Zekka asked hesitantly.
Hikaru let out a soft sigh at that, her earlier emotions resurfacing at the question. After a moment of silence, she decided that speaking about it might help, especially with someone who seemed so willing to listen without judgment.
"I had a fight with my brother…well, sort of," Hikaru said awkwardly, her fingers fidgeting slightly in her lap. "He's so determined to suffer on his own that he has built this..this invisible barrier around himself and refuses to let anyone get close to him…. and I guess I let that frustrate me more than I should have. I ended up getting angry at him for it. I mean, who does he think he is? trying to shoulder everything alone and making it seem as though everything revolves around him. It was not his fault that our parents died."
"Maybe your brother is just very sad," Zekka said gently. "When I'm sad, I sometimes start to believe that everything is my fault, even when I know that it's not. But when I'm in that state, I don't realize that I am being unreasonable."
"I know that he's sad," Hikaru replied with a quiet sigh, her gaze lowering. "That's exactly what makes this so difficult. It's just… frustrating, you understand what I mean? It was because of him that I managed to endure everything until now. I was not well after everything that happened, I was consumed by what I had done and what I had lost, and there were moments when I hated everything around me.
"And yet, every time I remembered that I had a brother somewhere in this world, someone who would think of me, someone who would remember me as I used to be rather than the person I have become, I found the strength to continue. He was the one thing that kept me from falling apart completely, and for that I will always be grateful to him, no matter what happens."
Her voice wavered slightly as she continued.
"But now I find out that he was just as miserable as I was, that he has been carrying all of that pain alone and blaming himself for everything that happened. It… it broke something inside me. I don't want him to suffer like that. He has done nothing wrong, nothing that deserves this kind of guilt, but no matter what I say, he refuses to listen."
"Maybe he understands, and maybe he doesn't," Zekka said softly. "But at the very least, he knows now that he has a sister who cares about him, someone who genuinely wants him to be happy. I think that matters more than you realize. If I were in his place, it would mean a lot to me."
"That's because you're a reasonable person," Hikaru said with a small chuckle. "He, on the other hand, is an insufferable idiot who believes that he can resolve everything on his own. Some things are simply beyond what one person can handle, and there is nothing wrong with that. No one is born knowing how to navigate everything life throws at them, which is why people lean on those they care about."
She leaned back slightly, her eyes lifting toward the ceiling as though searching for something just out of reach.
"I just don't know what I can do for him," she admitted quietly. "Telling him that it's not his fault doesn't seem to reach him at all."
"All you can really do is stay by his side," Zekka replied after a moment of thought. "I'm not very experienced with things like this, but when I used to feel sad or upset, my grandmother would simply sit next to me or hold me without saying anything. Eventually, I would start talking about what was bothering me on my own."
So that is all there is to it, Hikaru thought. Simply being there when it matters most.
Perhaps there was nothing more complicated required of her than that, to remain present, to offer him a place where he did not have to carry everything alone. It sounded almost too simple, still there was a quiet truth in it that she could not ignore.
Now that she had found her brother again, she would not leave him alone to face everything by himself. Not again.
"Say, Zekka-chan," Hikaru began slowly, turning her head toward her. "What else did your grandmother do for you when you felt that way?"
"She used to bake really delicious biscuits," Zekka said, her face brightening at the memory. "They were always very delicious. It was difficult to stay sad after eating them."
Zekka continued, speaking about her grandmother and the many small, thoughtful things she had done, her voice gradually growing more animated as she shared those memories. Hikaru listened attentively, allowing herself to be drawn into the warmth of those stories, quietly relieved to see the younger girl open up so freely.
"So how is it?" she asked expectantly, watching him with barely concealed anticipation.
"Meh, it was acceptable," her brother replied with an unimpressed expression as he licked the last traces from his fingers. "There's a bit too much sugar for my taste, but it's passable. I would give it a five out of ten."
Her eyes twitched at his audacity. "Really? That's your conclusion after you just licked the entire plate clean until it started shining?" she snapped, irritation rising immediately.
She had gone out of her way to bake those biscuits for him after asking Zekka for her grandmother's recipe, deciding, against her better judgment, to be the more considerate sibling for once.
He had devoured the entire batch like someone who had been starving for years, going so far as to lick every last crumb away until there was not a single trace left, and still he had the nerve to speak as though it had barely met the standard of edible.
"Well, considering the effort you put into making them," he said in a tone that was almost diplomatic, "I thought it would be wasteful to leave any behind."
The day he admitted that something she cooked or baked actually tasted good would be the day she began to seriously question his state of mind, because this gluttonous bastard seemed fundamentally incapable of offering her that satisfaction.
"Shut up, fatass," she snapped, the annoyance slipping easily into her voice.
"That offends me," he said at once, straightening slightly as though his dignity had been challenged. "I will have you know that I do not have a fat ass. My ass is composed of fifty percent pure divinity and fifty percent pure muscle, which makes it one hundred percent certified badass."
"Your asshole must be jealous of the sheer volume of bullshit that comes out of your mouth," she replied dryly, her expression flattening.
"The lady protests too much, methinks," he said with faint amusement, as though her irritation only served to entertain him further.
They sat together in silence for a few minutes after that, yet the silence was anything but empty. There was a familiarity in it, an unspoken understanding that needed no words, the kind that only existed between people who had known each other their entire lives, who had grown side by side and understood each other without explanation.
"Why was Le Fay so afraid of you?" she asked eventually, breaking the quiet. "You said that she was the one who saved you from Cao Cao and the others, so what happened between you that made her react like that?"
"She did save me," he admitted. "But it wasn't done out of the goodness of her heart."
"Then what did she want?" Hikaru asked.
"She wanted my help in breaking the oath of the Hero Faction," he replied.
"You're serious?" she asked, disbelief evident in her voice. "Why would she want that? I doubt the others would like that. From what I know, the original members take those vows very seriously."
"Apparently, she believed it was a mistake from the beginning," he said. "She wanted to save her brother from the consequences of that oath, and to do so, she chose to manipulate me."
Hikaru's hand clenched slightly as she tried to imagine the means by which someone could manipulate her brother.
"She threatened me, I assume?" she asked.
"Yes," he said simply, and then he began to explain.
He told her how Le Fay had sent him into the vampire dimension, forcing him to retrieve a divine artifact that could aid her plans. He spoke of the things he had done there, of the actions that still lingered in his memory like stains that refused to fade.
He described Dorian and the other vampire lords, the way they ruled with a cruelty so ingrained that it had become the very structure of their world, and how humans were treated as little more than expendable tools, valued only for what could be taken from them. He spoke of Liliane.
"I have done many terrible things during my time there," he said quietly. "But what I did to Liliane may be the worst of them. She was a visionary, someone who saw the decay within her own kind and genuinely wished to change it, to create a better system for her people. She wanted to bring about something better, and I used that desire against her.
"I manipulated her trust, her hope, and turned it into a weapon that led to the destruction of everything she cared about. In the end, she could not endure the weight of it and chose to throw herself into a lake of fire. Her tears still linger in my memory, and no matter how I try to justify my actions, I know that I will carry the regret of what I did to her for the rest of my existence."
"She loved you," Hikaru said softly, a quiet sadness settling in her voice for a girl she had never met, yet could somehow understand.
"She did," he replied, his tone hollow. "And she paid for it."
He continued, speaking of Casmir and the twisted vision he had pursued, of a new breed of humans shaped into obedience, stripped of the very qualities that made them human.
"Monsters, every last one of them," he said, his voice hardening. "Casmir, Dorian, and the rest of them. It would be difficult to find a more depraved group of individuals whose sole purpose seems to be the propagation of suffering. They made Cao Cao's goal almost understandable."
He went on to describe the schemes he had set into motion, the careful manipulations through which he had turned one lord against another, how he had engineered the collapse of the vampire hierarchy by breaking the barrier that held their world together. He spoke of how Cao Cao had seized that moment to eradicate both the vampires and the altered humans, his fury toward the latter burning with a clarity that left no room for doubt.
"Are you going to take responsibility for the extinction of the vampire race as well?" she asked, her tone edged with dry irony.
"There is no doubt about it," he replied without hesitation. "I do bear responsibility. However, I don't regret it in the way one might expect. I feel sorrow for the few innocents who existed among them, people like Liliane and a handful of others, but the race as a whole had become so deeply rooted in cruelty that its continued existence would have required endless suffering. I can't bring myself to mourn the end of something that thrived on such a foundation."
She watched him carefully, seeing past the surface of his words to the strain beneath them, to the quiet tension he could not entirely conceal.
"That's not entirely the truth, is it?" she said quietly.
He let out a soft sigh and turned his gaze toward the window, his expression distant. After a moment, he stood and walked into the kitchen, returning shortly after with a bottle of wine and two glasses. He poured for both of them and took a slow sip, though it was clear from the look in his eyes that his thoughts were far removed from the present moment.
"But to think that Cao Cao would kill humans," she said angrily, her voice trembling with a mixture of disbelief and betrayal.
It was as though everything he had shown her, everything he had made her believe about himself, had been nothing more than a carefully crafted illusion, a mirage that dissolved the moment she looked at it too closely. The one thing she had once admired in him, his unwavering devotion to humanity, now revealed itself to be hollow and false as well.
"Cao Cao is a misguided child," her brother said, his tone calm and distant, as though he were speaking of something long concluded. "He only ever wanted to hurt the world for hurting him. I must admit, your reaction to the fact that I indirectly caused the extinction of an entire race is far less explosive than I had anticipated."
"I was part of the team that helped the humans who escaped from the vampire dimension," she said, her anger settling into something colder and heavier. "I saw what they did to them, how they broke their spirits piece by piece until nothing remained but hollow shells that only resembled human beings in form. I spent months helping them recover, watching them struggle to reclaim even the smallest fragments of themselves, and even then most of them never truly healed. And many ended their life within the first few months of freedom because they could not bear what had been done to them, so no, brother, I don't mourn the death of the monsters who inflicted that suffering."
Her brother did not respond immediately, and instead regarded her with that unreadable expression of his, one that revealed nothing and concealed everything, leaving her uncertain whether he approved of her words or found fault in them.
"It seems that everything that happened to you while I was away has been nothing but tragedy after tragedy," she said softly, unable to keep the sorrow from her voice.
"Entirely self-inflicted, I assure you," he replied, though there was no pride in his tone, only a quiet acceptance. "But it was not all dark and gloom. There were moments of light as well, however brief they might have been."
"Ah, right," she said, recalling something with a faint smile. "~There is your crimson-haired girl~ Rias Gremory, was it? Tell me more about her, since that seems to be the only part of this story that doesn't end in misery."
"It was not only her," he said, his voice softening slightly. "There were also the other members of her peerage, and her brother as well."
He began to speak then, recounting his time with the Gremory peerage, and as he spoke she listened carefully, noting the subtle changes in his tone and expression. He spoke of Kiba and his struggle with faith and the scars left behind by the church, expressing a quiet hope that he might one day find peace. He spoke of Issei, of the boy's peculiar outlook on life and his strangely endearing tendency to take himself far too seriously. He mentioned Akeno only briefly, offering little detail beyond the acknowledgment that she carried her own burdens.
He spoke of Sirzechs and his ambition to use Haruki as a means to bring about change in the underworld, and finally he spoke of Rias, of the countless trivial conversations they shared and the quiet moments they spent together. There was something unmistakable in his voice when he spoke of her, a warmth and intensity that did not appear elsewhere, and it was enough to draw a knowing smile from Hikaru.
"You love her, don't you?" she asked, her tone light, though her gaze was searching.
"I do," he answered without hesitation, though there was a shadow in his eyes that dulled the sincerity of his admission.
"I can't wait to meet the girl who has you speaking like this," Hikaru said, smiling faintly. "She must be extraordinary indeed."
"I'm afraid that won't be possible," he replied, his voice quiet.
"Why not?"
"Because I killed her brother," he said simply.
"What?!" she exclaimed, her composure breaking entirely. "I thought you liked Sirzechs. Why would you do something like that?"
He did not answer her immediately, choosing instead to take a slow sip of his wine, as though gathering his thoughts before speaking.
"Have you ever considered the future of humanity?" he asked at last. "I mean in the context of the supernatural. You're aware that the influence of Christ is waning and that the age of magic will return. What do you believe will happen when the creatures of myth once again walk freely among us?"
She fell silent, considering the question carefully, for it was one that had been discussed often within the Hero Faction, framed as an inevitable trial that humanity would one day be forced to face.
"I think that if humanity remains as it is now," she began slowly, "then something similar to what you described in the vampire dimension will happen. The strong will dominate the weak, and humanity, as it currently stands, is among the most vulnerable of races. Most humans don't possess magic, and without it they are defenseless, so slavery, exploitation, and endless suffering would become the norm."
"Precisely," he said, nodding slightly. "And I intend to change that."
"What do you mean?" she asked, her curiosity sharpening. "How do you plan to do that?"
"Tell me, sister," he said, his gaze steady as it settled on her. "What do you think is the single greatest limitation preventing humanity from standing on equal footing with the supernatural?"
She thought about it carefully, weighing the many disadvantages humanity faced. Their bodies were fragile and easily broken, their lifespans were short, and they were vulnerable to disease and decay. They lacked the innate resilience and regenerative capabilities of supernatural beings, and most importantly, they were born without any natural affinity for magic, leaving them defenseless in a world where power dictated survival.
Even our knowledge of the supernatural remains fragmented and incomplete, which leaves us at a constant disadvantage.
"The greatest limitation," she said at last, "is humanity's lack of an inherent ability to use magic. There are other factors, but that's the core of the issue. Wait, don't tell me…"
"Yes, Sister" he said, a faint smile forming on his lips. "I am going to give every human the ability to use magic. What a sight that would be!"
She stared at him for a moment before laughter escaped her, bright and incredulous, as though the sheer audacity of his ambition had overwhelmed her.
"Unbelievable," she said, clutching her side as she laughed. "You truly never fail to astonish me."
"What's so amusing?" he asked, his expression unimpressed.
"'There is nothing more unbearable to humans than freedom,'" she quoted, recalling his own words from long ago. "You once said that, and you even claimed that Christ was cruel for granting humanity freedom instead of security. And now you stand here, intending to do the very same thing."
"Freedom is a precious thing," he said quietly, his voice carrying a weight that silenced her laughter. "I've seen what the absence of it does to people in the vampire world. When individuals are stripped of their freedom, they begin to lose themselves, piece by piece, until nothing remains of who they once were. The mystery of human existence lies in the pursuit of something worth living for, and he who has been deprived of their freedom has no such purpose left to grasp."
"I suppose you're right," she said solemnly, her voice steadier now, though the weight of the conversation had not lessened. "But you were telling me why you killed the brother of the woman you love."
"He stood in the way of that goal," he said at first, before pausing, his gaze lowering slightly as though correcting himself. "No, that's not entirely true… I needed to become stronger, and he stood in my way. I could make a thousand justifications for why his death was necessary, cloak it in reason and righteousness, but in the end it comes down to my own desire for power."
"I've noticed that you always choose the harshest possible interpretation of your own actions," she said calmly, watching him carefully. "Anything that allows you to condemn yourself more thoroughly. I sometimes wonder if you believe that acknowledging the worst in yourself serves as some kind of absolution."
"It doesn't," he replied without hesitation, his tone almost indifferent. "I am beyond absolution. I have caused too much harm for that to be a possibility."
"Beyond absolution, perhaps," she conceded. "The people you have hurt are under no obligation to forgive you, and they may never do so. But that doesn't mean you are beyond redemption."
He looked at her then, a faint curiosity in his eyes. "How so?"
"Because redemption isn't something granted by others," she said. "It's something you choose for yourself. It shouldn't be confused with forgiveness, since forgiveness depends on those who were wronged. Redemption belongs entirely to the individual. Anyone, regardless of what they have done, can choose to change, to become something better than they were before. There is no threshold beyond which that choice disappears."
"You don't disagree with my goal?" he asked, studying her more closely now.
"I think it may be the best chance humanity has," she admitted. "If humanity is to survive with any degree of dignity, then giving people the means to defend themselves seems necessary. But what's best for humanity is not necessarily what's best for you, Haruki. I don't think this path brings you any peace nor will it."
She leaned back against the couch, exhaustion seeping into her posture as the tension of the conversation finally caught up with her.
"To be honest, I would rather see you act with a little selfishness for once," she continued softly. "I'd rather you choose your own happiness than sacrifice everything for some grand design. Humanity has endured for thousands of years, and things have a way of moving forward even through chaos. Everything works out somehow in the end. I understand that you don't share that faith. And since you are unfortunately my brother, I'll stand beside you regardless of what path you choose. Still, I want you to promise me something."
"What is it?" he asked.
"When all of this is over," she said, her voice steady despite the weight of her words, "once you have achieved what you set out to do, I want you to go to Rias and speak to her honestly. I want you to apologize and tell her everything. Can you promise me that?"
His fingers flexed slightly at his sides, as though restless, as though the very idea unsettled him.
"My actions are far too grave to ask her to bear," he said slowly. "They are mine alone, every single one of them. I can renounce none of them, and repent almost none. It would be an unfair burden to ask anyone else to carry."
"She loves you, doesn't she?" Hikaru asked quietly.
"I don't know anymore," he answered, his voice subdued. "And even if she does, that doesn't change what I have done. It would be naive to believe otherwise."
"Hiding behind cynicism again," she sighed. "Don't you think she would understand? You're doing this for humanity, for countless lives that would otherwise suffer. If her judgment was questionable enough to fall in love with you once, then perhaps she'll love you enough to understand, even if she can't forgive you."
Haruki straightened slightly, a trace of pride returning to his posture. "I have no desire to justify myself or seek excuses for my actions."
"No," Hikaru replied quietly. "Only forgiveness."
He shot her a sharp look, one so intense that for a moment it felt as though it carried heat with it, but the moment passed, and he turned his gaze away.
"There was something I wanted to tell you," he said after a brief silence.
"What?" she asked.
"I am a god now," he said, his tone calm, almost detached. "I can create life at will, and I can bring back the dead as long as I have a fragment of their soul."
She froze, the words settling over her in a way that left her unable to respond immediately, her thoughts stumbling as she tried to grasp what he had just said.
"You mean…" she began, her voice faltering, as though she feared completing the thought might shatter it.
"I intend to bring back our parents," he said, as if stating something simple and inevitable. "I'm still learning the extent of my abilities, and resurrection is among the more complex aspects, but once I have mastered it…"
"Are you serious?" she asked, her composure breaking as disbelief and hope collided within her. "Do you truly mean that?"
"Yes," he answered. "If their souls had already passed fully into heaven or been carried along the cycle of reincarnation, it would've been a bit more difficult. However, a certain nosy goddess has interfered with that process, and as a result their souls remain suspended in limbo. All that remains is to retrieve them and provide suitable bodies. It shouldn't be beyond my capability."
She did not concern herself with the mechanics of it, nor the implications, nor the risks that might be involved. The possibility alone was enough to overwhelm her, the idea that what had been lost might be restored, that the greatest weight she carried might be undone.
A surge of emotion rose within her, too large and too sudden to contain, and she found herself crying and laughing at once, her breath unsteady, her chest tightening as though it could not fully hold what she felt. It was a strange, uncontrollable release, a mixture of relief, disbelief, and fragile, desperate hope, and for the first time in a long while, the future no longer seemed entirely bound to grief.
AN: We're sooo back!!! This chapter was just the two siblings talking, and it needed to happen. I'm not sure I managed to convey their interaction exactly as I intended, so let me know what you think. This chapter also finally answers the age-old question of which of the two overly dramatic siblings inherited the emotional intelligence.
This is also perhaps the only chapter in the last 57 where Haruki is truly vulnerable and open about himself. His prideful nature is still a core part of who he is. he doesn't feel like he has the right to ask for forgiveness, which can be both frustrating and tragic. In many ways, this chapter feels like a therapy session for him. It's centered on his guilt and his need to confront it. His sister's trauma is only barely addressed, but that's intentional. At its core, this chapter is Haruki's apology for failing her.
Also, I've started yet another DxD fic, this time with a human MC, check it out. My solution to having too many stories is to start even more stories. Clearly, this is a sustainable and well-thought-out strategy.
I checked the reviews for this fic earlier and damn, they're brutal. I normally don't really care about reviews or ratings since I mostly write for myself and the handful of people who enjoy reading these stories. But seeing a one-star rating with absolutely no explanation attached to it is admittedly a bit annoying.
I actually had to delete one review because the entire thing was basically just a one-star rating and nothing else. Like, come on, man. If you think the story deserves a low rating, that's completely fine. Plenty of people have given it low ratings before. But at least tell me why. Give me something. Roast my writing, call the pacing terrible, tell me the characters suck...anything. If you're going to throw a brick through my window, at least attach a note to it.