Takemikazuchi placed a hand over his heart and offered a formal, profound bow. "Damien, I thank you from the bottom of my heart. You have made this god and his children incredibly happy." Behind him, his Familia—Ouka, Chigusa, Asuka, and Mikoto—mirrored the gesture in a wave of unified gratitude.
Damien scratched the back of his head, a flush of genuine embarrassment warming his neck. "I just did what I promised. We're allies, Lord Takemikazuchi. There's no need for all this bowing, please."
The god straightened, his stern features softening into an expression of deep respect. "You are a good man, a good child. Humble and respectful… Truly, you have the bearing of a hero."
Before Damien could deflect the praise further, Mikoto broke from the line. She rushed forward, her movements fluid and earnest, and wrapped her arms around him in a tight, heartfelt hug. The soft, formidable weight of her chest pressed against his abdomen, and she nestled her head into his chest with a sigh of pure relief. "Thank you… for everything. Ever since we've met you, everything has been going right for us. Thank you so much."
Damien's body went rigid for a split second, surprised by the intimacy of the gesture in front of her Familia. Then, his instincts softened. He hesitated only a moment longer before gently placing a hand on her head, his touch careful. "I'll always be here to help," he said, his voice low and sincere.
"Just ask."
....
It took another hour of heartfelt thanks, shared tea, and quiet promises before Damien could gracefully extract himself. He finally made his way across the city, his path taking him to the familiar, smoke-scented air of the northwestern district and the sprawling workshops of the Hephaestus Familia.
He found himself once more outside Tsubaki's forge, the rhythmic clang of metal on metal a comforting, absent sound. Pushing the door open, he was met with an empty front room. He rang the small bell on the counter.
"Coming!" Her voice, rich and familiar, echoed from the workshop in the back.
A moment later, Tsubaki emerged, wiping her hands on a leather apron. When her dark eyes landed on him, she froze. A vivid blush immediately painted her cheeks, and her confident posture faltered. "Damien… You're here…. Uhm… Huh?"
"You look shocked to see me?" Damien asked, a faint, amused smile touching his lips. "What, did you think I'd forgotten about my favorite blacksmith?"
The words seemed to short-circuit her. Her eyes widened. "Favorite blacksmith…? Wow… I mean… That's… pretty good for me… uhm." She began to look around the shop, anywhere but at him, her movements suddenly flustered. It was a stark contrast to her usual bold demeanor.
"Is something wrong, Tsubaki?" Damien asked, his tone turning gentle with concern.
The question seemed to deflate her. She sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly as she finally met his gaze, her own filled with a vulnerable regret he'd never seen there before. "I just thought… well… you know… I thought you hated me now. After what happened at your housewarming." She swallowed. "I mean, I haven't seen you since, and I thought you'd cut me off or something… Which… I am… very sorry about what happened. I've realized what I did wrong." She let out a hollow, self-deprecating laugh. "I mean, how stupid of me, right? You're a young man. You'd clearly be into young women like you instead. An oldie like me… doing that… must have been pretty awkward, huh?"
Damien could see the genuine pain behind her attempt to laugh it off. "What? No. Tsubaki, come on," he said, stepping closer to the counter. "I thought it was obvious that I was indeed attracted to you. Age… has nothing to do with it!"
His directness made her narrow her eyes, a flicker of her usual fire returning, now tinged with frustration. "Then what, huh? What is it? You can't just play me with words and then reject my advances. Okay, I'm too old for that bullshit, Damien. Just let it go. You don't like my body, fine. Just say that. Don't say you find it attractive and then reject me."
Damien sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Look… you really have this all wrong." He leaned forward, his voice dropping to a low, earnest register. "I do find you attractive. It'd be a lie to say anything else. I mean, have you seen yourself in a mirror? Perfect shape, lovely boobs, a great ass… What is there for me to not like?"
"Then what is it?!" she insisted, her frustration mounting.
"You were drunk," he stated plainly, his gaze unwavering. "That is the simple reason. To you it may have been fine, but have you thought about it from my perspective? I don't want to accept your advances, do something with you, and then have you wake up, realize what you did while drunk, and hate me for it. I'm sorry, Tsubaki, but a drunk person is completely off limits. At least to me."
"So what? You're saying you rejected me because I was drunk?" She sounded incredulous. "No one does that!"
"I don't know how it is in Orario," Damien said, his tone firming with conviction, "but where I'm from, doing anything with someone who's that intoxicated is a violation. Consent matters to me. I just… didn't want to hurt you."
Tsubaki stared at him, her anger melting into a complex swirl of disbelief and dawning understanding. A slow, dangerous, and deeply curious gleam entered her eyes.
"So, let me see if I understand…" she murmured, her voice a sultry whisper. She moved with deliberate, predatory grace around the counter, closing the distance between them. Before he could react, she pressed him back against the wall beside the doorframe. Her calloused hand found the front of his pants and pressed down firmly, palm flat against the growing rigidity beneath the fabric. "If I do this… you'll still find me attractive?" she challenged, her gaze locked on his. For emphasis, she tugged slightly at the lacing of her work shirt, giving him a deliberate, breathtaking glimpse of the deep cleavage and soft curves beneath.
Damien's breath hitched. Her bold touch, combined with the visual feast, sent an undeniable surge of blood south. He hardened fully, vividly, under her palm, the length and girth straining against his pants and into her hand.
"Tsubaki… what if someone walks in?" he managed, his voice thick.
She didn't move her hand, feeling the profound truth of his physical response. After a long, charged moment, she slowly pulled back, her own cheeks now flushing with a deeper, more flustered red. The anger was gone, replaced by sheer, stunned revelation.
"Wow," she breathed, her voice barely audible. "You really… do like me then. That… wasn't an excuse. I felt that." She blinked, the reality settling in. He hadn't been lying. He'd been principled. A softer, genuinely apologetic look crossed her face. "Oh… That's… good to know then. I guess I judged wrong. I'm sorry, Damien."
"Don't be," he said, adjusting his stance and taking a steadying breath. "Maybe… one day, when we aren't in your clearly-open-for-business shop… we can… go further."
The promise, both a concession and an invitation, made her blush deepen. She bit her lower lip, a smile finally breaking through—a real one, tinged with warmth and newfound respect. "Okay… Yeah. Sure." She cleared her throat, forcibly steering the atmosphere back toward professional, though the electricity still crackled in the air between them. "Then… let's get back to why you're here, right?"
With the last trace of tension finally dissolving between them, Damien reached out and summoned his armor onto the counter. Black metal folded into existence with a muted thrum, plates locking together like a resting beast.
Tsubaki froze.
"…Spatial magic?"
Damien grinned and tapped the side of his nose. "Trade secret. Keep it quiet, yeah?"
He rested a hand on the armor. "This is my Wolf Armor. Don't ask where it came from. It's… important to me. I want it repaired."
Tsubaki leaned in immediately, professional instincts taking over. Her fingers traced the joints, tested the articulation, examined the runic channels etched into the metal. Her expression shifted from surprise to open admiration.
"This craftsmanship…" she muttered. "The balance, the flexibility, the way the weight's distributed. Whoever made this was either on my level or blessed by a god of the forge." She clicked her tongue and finally looked up at him. "That said… you absolutely abused it."
Damien chuckled. "Occupational hazard."
"You're lucky," she said, already pulling tools closer. "I can fix it. Reinforce the stress points, realign the runes, restore its integrity." She paused, fixing him with a sharp stare. "But it'll take time. Three days."
"Works for me."
"And listen carefully," Tsubaki added, jabbing a finger toward his chest. "No dungeon runs without it. Not even 'just a quick one.' I don't want to hear that you got yourself gutted because you couldn't wait."
Damien raised both hands in surrender, smiling. "Yes, ma'am. I'll behave."
She snorted, then softened. "Good. Come back in three days. I'll have it better than new."
Damien turned toward the door, glancing back once. "Then I'll be counting on you."
Tsubaki watched him leave, eyes lingering on the counter where the armor rested, a faint smile tugging at her lips.
'Three days, huh....Maybe...Then....Ugh what am I thinking...Let's get to work Shall we!'
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