Some days later, Kuoh quietly rearranged itself around Ren Ming.
His schedule, already ridiculous, managed to get worse in the most predictable way possible.
Serafall.
...
Since their date, the Leviathan appeared so often that the manor wards started recognizing her signature and opening on their own.
One morning, Rias pushed open the living room door, ready to complain about paperwork—
—and froze.
Serafall was already sprawled on the couch, humming under her breath, legs swinging. She'd traded her usual magical girl outfit for a soft oversized hoodie and shorts, hair in animated twin-tails, a pair of novelty star-shaped glasses perched on her nose. A colorful stack of human-world fashion magazines lay spread across the coffee table like battle plans.
Sona sat beside her in full Kuoh Academy uniform, arms folded so tightly across her chest the fabric barely moved when she breathed. Her expression was ice behind her glasses, but the faint tremor in her fingers betrayed her.
Ren lounged in an armchair opposite them, one ankle resting on his knee, coffee cradled in one hand. No aura, no pressure, no Saint Kingdom—just a relaxed guy with his hair tied back lazily and amusement simmering in his eyes.
"So," Serafall announced, tapping a magazine page with a pen, "this café, that sweets place, and this riverside spot. Date course candidates for you and my serious little sister."
Sona's composure cracked. "Nee-san!"
Ren took a slow sip, watching them over the rim. "You're really not holding back, huh."
Serafall beamed, zero shame. "Of course not! If my boyfriend is going to steal my cute, hardworking Sona's first proper date, it has to be perfect."
Rias twitched. "You just called him your boyfriend in public…"
Serafall turned her head, utterly unbothered. "He is," she said plainly. "Problem?"
Rias opened her mouth. Closed it. "N-No…"
Her aura wobbled in a way that had nothing to do with demonic power.
Sona pressed two fingers to her temple. "I did not agree to a date."
Serafall pounced. Literally.
She slid behind Sona and wrapped her arms around her shoulders, pressing her cheek to Sona's, tails of her hoodie bunching.
"You're thinking about it," she sang. "You've been thinking about it since he rewrote your entire understanding of cultivation math. Don't deny it, So-tan."
Sona's cheeks pinked despite her best efforts. "That's… irrelevant. We are busy. Kokabiel, the Alliance of Hell, Academy administration…"
"Exactly," Serafall shot back. "Which is why you need stress relief. At this rate you're going to collapse before your twentieth birthday. Let my boyfriend kidnap you for a day. He's very good at making goddesses forget their overtime."
Rias coughed into her hand. "That wording…"
Ren chuckled, low. "You're really selling me hard today."
Serafall slanted him a look that was momentarily, unmistakably Maou—sharp, commanding, reminder that underneath the hoodie was someone who could freeze armies.
"I have to make sure you're invested," she said lightly. "If you're going to be involved with my sister, you're taking responsibility properly. No half-hearted flirting."
The word "responsibility" made Sona flinch like she'd been struck.
Ren set his cup down, fingers loose around the handle. For a moment, the lazy warmth in his eyes thinned out, letting something quieter show through. Understanding. Decision.
Then he looked at Sona.
"I'm not going to drag you anywhere you don't want to go," he said, calm as ever. "That's not how I roll. But yeah. When you're ready to step away from your desk for a day and remember you're allowed to be a woman too—not just Student Council President, Sitri heiress, chess prodigy—I'll be there. No pressure."
His tone was light. His words weren't.
Sona looked away, lips pressed into a thin line. Her fingers tightened around the clipboard in her lap… then slowly relaxed, knuckles losing their whiteness.
"…We can… revisit the topic after the next set of evaluations," she said at last, voice quiet.
Serafall squealed. "Progress!"
She squeezed Sona so hard her glasses nearly flew off.
Rias watched all of it with a complicated expression—irritation at Serafall's shamelessness, amusement at Sona's helplessness, and an undeniable warmth she couldn't hide.
Seeing Serafall cling to Sona like an overexcited child.
Seeing Sona slowly give ground without actually losing herself.
Seeing Ren talk to them as if "Maou" and "Heiress" were footnotes, not definitions.
Something tight in Rias' chest loosened.
It felt like watching a new constellation being drawn into the sky they all shared—lines of light connecting stars she had always known were there, but had never seen arranged like this.
...
Serafall's constant presence didn't cause a huge political earthquake in Kuoh.
The Underworld was already shaking from Ren's existence. One more Maou haunting a town barely registered on that seismograph.
What it did do was sharpen the air around the women who already cared about him.
Rias' gaze lingered longer when he walked into a room, her demonic power subconsciously syncing to the rhythm of his Saint Kingdom even when it was folded away. Akeno's smiles turned softer in the spaces between her teasing, lightning humming under her skin like a purring cat when he brushed her hand.
Asia floated through the manor like she was wrapped in invisible sunlight, cheeks going pink every time Ren ruffled her hair or adjusted her grip during healing drills. Her Soul Palace, still in the process of condensing, pulsed brighter whenever he praised her.
Koneko shadowed him more openly now, no longer pretending she just "happened" to be where he was. Her white tail sometimes hooked around his wrist when they walked, possessive in a quiet, stubborn way. When he looked down and squeezed gently, her ears twitched and her Touki warmed.
Even Tiamat changed.
The Chaos Karma Dragon still spent most of her time perched on rooftops, reclining in the Dimensional Gap, or sprawled across random tall buildings like a dragon-shaped cat. Her human form drifted through Kuoh with lazy steps and sharp eyes, blue hair catching the light, aura a coiled storm.
But now, when Ren sat on the manor's highest balcony at night, patting the stone beside him and saying, "Hey, come watch the sky with me," she actually came down instead of pretending she hadn't heard.
Sometimes, her bare shoulder brushed his arm as she sat. The faint scent of ozone and old dragon blood hung in the air. She didn't move away.
The first time he kissed her forehead—in passing, casual thanks, after she incinerated a particularly nasty curse construct for his class—Tiamat froze.
Her pupils narrowed into thin slits. The air around them crackled for an instant, every instinct screaming to swat away the insolent human.
Then she huffed, looked aside, and the tips of her ears flushed faintly pink.
"Do not make a habit of that," she muttered.
Ren smiled. "Too late."
The next time his hand brushed the small of her back as they stepped through a portal, her body didn't tense.
It leaned, almost imperceptibly, into his touch.
Life, Ren decided, was very lively indeed.
...
On one particularly clear afternoon, he found himself on the manor's outer training field with the two Nekoshou sisters.
The air shimmered with layered formations. A ring of talismans hovered overhead, each etched in faint Dao-script that made the local world's magic politely step aside. The ground thrummed underfoot like a living thing, responding to the rhythm of Ren's soul.
The sky above this part of the property was a little too blue, a little too deep. Somewhere, high above, Saint Kingdom lay folded like a second firmament, ready to drop into place if he wished.
Kuroka and Koneko stood opposite him.
Kuroka wore her usual kimono, sleeves carelessly rolled up, black tail swaying in lazy arcs behind her. Her golden eyes were half-lidded, the foxlike smile on her lips amused and predatory. Under that languid act, her senjutsu coiled like smoke ready to suffocate.
Koneko, taller and noticeably curvier than her early Kuoh days, stood in fitted training clothes. Her white tail hung low but steady, amber eyes fixed on Ren with catlike focus. Touki pulsed under her skin, a banked furnace rather than a flickering candle.
"Alright, kittens," Ren said. "Round two on the Veil."
He flicked his wrist.
A lattice of shimmering lines unfolded in the air—a fragment of Calamity-Shearing Veil, condensed and made visible as a teaching tool. The structure didn't belong to this world; it wasn't holy, demonic, or draconic. It carried the flavor of the Dao, threads of Ren's own path woven into a translucent curtain that hummed against the senses.
To devils attuned to magic circles, it felt like staring at an equation written in a language that shouldn't exist.
"To recap," Ren said, tone casual, "last time we anchored it around your Soul Palaces. Basic filter. Today… we're threading it through your senjutsu and Touki flows. If Angra or any other curse-happy idiot tries to ride your energy paths, we want them cut off at every junction."
Just the name "Angra Mainyu" made a few distant training students shiver. Even without seeing him, they had felt the echo of what he represented—curses that crawled under skin, rules that rotted systems from the inside.
Kuroka tilted her head, tail curling like a question mark. "Nyaaa, so you're wrapping us up even tighter, huh?" she purred. "Ren-nyan is very possessive. I like it."
Koneko's ears twitched. "…Sister."
Ren laughed under his breath. "Call it efficient paranoia," he said. "Alright. Kuroka, flare your youjutsu and senjutsu. Koneko, bring your Touki up—slow, not full throttle."
Green-black youjutsu smoke rose around Kuroka like ink in water. Her senjutsu spread outward in ripples only sensitives could feel, brushing every stone and blade of grass, tasting intentions and emotions.
Beside her, Koneko's aura thickened. White Touki surged up, tempered by the gravity-heavy stillness of the Immutable Core lodged in her Soul Palace. Senjutsu stirred beneath it—not wild and overwhelming now, but disciplined, like a river forced into proper banks.
Ren's Immortal Soul Bone pulsed.
To him, their internal structures unfolded into clear diagrams—little worlds of muscle, bone, and energy. He saw where Kuroka's senjutsu branched like tangled roots, where years of strain and guilt had carved scars. He saw where Koneko's Touki wrapped protectively around her heart, where the Immutable Core sat like a white stone, steady and stubborn.
"Good," he murmured. "Now… breathe."
He stepped forward and placed two fingers lightly against Kuroka's forehead.
Dao-script flowed from his touch, not as light but as intent, sinking into her meridians. Her energy channels shivered at the foreign pattern, then slowly began to adapt.
"Your energy paths are like a forest," he said quietly. "Too many open trails. That's what makes you so good at slipping through barriers—but it also gives curses a lot of room to play. We're going to hang this Veil over your main branches. Follow the feeling. Don't force it."
Kuroka closed her eyes.
For once, the teasing mask dropped a few degrees. Her ears flattened, then slowly rose again as she let that alien rhythm move through her.
"Ooh…" she breathed. "That's… strange. It's like something is combing my insides. It feels good… but also tickles."
Ren's mouth tugged up. "Relax. I haven't reached that far yet."
Koneko snorted softly, failing to smother it.
Ren moved to her next, hand resting on the side of her neck, thumb just below her jaw. Her pulse beat against his skin, quick but not panicked.
"With you, it's simpler," he said. "Your core's dense. You're already good at saying no to outside influence. We're just refining the gate. Any foreign rule that tries to walk into your Soul Palace has to fight the Veil outside, then your own stubbornness inside."
Koneko's eyes fluttered half-closed.
She felt the Veil coil around that white stone in her Soul Palace—the Immutable Core—linking it to the flows of Touki and senjutsu. Where fear used to slip in like cold water through cracks, the Veil now waited with a silent, cutting edge.
"…Warm," she murmured. "It feels like… you're holding my hand. From the inside."
Ren's smile softened. "That's about right."
They worked like that for a while.
Ren adjusted flows, smoothed snarls. Kuroka occasionally tried to turn diagrams into an excuse to lean against him, her breath warm against his ear as she "accidentally" shifted closer. He indulged her just enough to keep the purr in her throat, not enough to derail the lesson.
Koneko listened more than she spoke, brows knitting whenever she had to re-route energy. Each correction dug deeper grooves into her circulation, making new habits.
When both sisters' auras had smoothed into something Ren deemed acceptable, he stepped back and rolled his shoulders.
"Alright," he said. "That's the technical part. Now comes my favorite: applied motivation."
Kuroka's eyes brightened immediately. "Nya? What kind of motivation does Ren-nyan have in mind?"
Ren stretched, hands sliding into his pockets.
"Planning your date," he said casually. "I've been slacking. Life's been insane. That one's on me."
The effect was immediate.
Kuroka's tail froze mid-swish. "My… date?"
Koneko's ears shot straight up.
Ren tilted his head. "What, you thought I was going to keep flirting forever and never take you out properly?" His tone stayed light, but his gaze didn't waver. "That's not my style."
Kuroka's usual smirk fractured.
For a heartbeat, the lazy onee-san was gone. In her place was the woman who'd run for her life, branded a criminal, hunted across the Underworld; the woman who'd learned to wrap everything in jokes because sincerity always hurt more.
"…I…" She swallowed, tail curling tight around her thigh. "Well, I… I didn't want to assume, nya. Devils and their politics, and you with so many girls already, and I'm a stray and a Nekoshou and…"
The words tangled, thoughts spiraling toward that familiar sinkhole.
Ren cut it off before she could fall in.
"Hey," he said, voice dropping gentle.
He turned—not to her first, but to Koneko.
Before she could react, he stepped close, bent, and kissed her.
It was soft, brief, and utterly unambiguous.
Koneko's eyes flew wide. Her tail shot straight up, then slowly curved in an arc as every muscle in her small body remembered how to move. For that heartbeat, she melted into him, arms hovering uncertainly before one hand finally clutched his sleeve.
When he pulled back, her cheeks were faintly pink. Her usual deadpan expression had cracked open, showing something small and raw and bright beneath.
"…Ren," she whispered, voice barely there.
He brushed a stray lock of hair from her face, thumb lingering at her cheekbone.
"You," he said, simple and firm, "are my girlfriend. You're not a placeholder. You're not 'less' because your sister is louder or flirty. Don't let your brain lie to you. I see you."
Deep in Koneko's Soul Palace, her Immutable Core pulsed once.
Something knotted in her chest came undone.
She nodded, small and fierce. "…Okay."
Only then did Ren look back at Kuroka.
She was staring at him, ears flat, pupils blown wide. For once, her lips couldn't find a smirk.
"You look like a cat that just saw the bottom of the treat jar," Ren said, amused.
"Y-You kissed Shirone like it was nothing," Kuroka blurted. "Right in front of me. Nya…"
"Not nothing," Ren corrected. "Just natural. You both matter to me. I'm not letting insecurity fester between you. That's how cracks start."
He stepped toward her, slow enough she had every chance to move.
She didn't.
"You've been dancing around me for weeks," he went on quietly. "Claws out. Tail up. Jokes in your eyes and something sharp under every smile, watching to see if I'll treat you like everyone else did."
His gaze softened, but the steel in it didn't.
"I'm not them."
He reached out, giving her one last moment to pull away.
Then his arm wrapped around her waist, drawing her gently but firmly into his space.
Kuroka's hands landed on his chest, fingers tightening reflexively.
"So," Ren said, voice dropping lower, "one more time. Just so we're clear."
He leaned in.
This kiss wasn't soft.
It started slow, giving her room to retreat. When she didn't—when a strangled little sound escaped her throat and she leaned up into him instead—he deepened it. His free hand slid up her back, fingers threading into her hair between her ears, grounding her as her knees threatened to give way.
Senjutsu flared around her, wild energy spiraling like a storm. The Veil he'd just woven into her channels caught it, smoothing the turbulence, cutting off the self-destructive tilt that had always been there. For the first time in a long time, Kuroka felt something sweet instead of poison burning through the cracks inside her.
When they finally parted, she was breathing hard, golden eyes dazed.
"…Nya," she rasped. "What… was that…?"
Ren smiled, thumb drawing slow circles over the small of her back.
"Your answer," he said. "I like you too, Kuroka. The real you. The runaway. The sister. The flirt. The scared cat. You're mine now. You wanted that, didn't you?"
Her tail wrapped around his wrist, firm as a rope.
"…Yeah," she admitted, voice barely audible. "I… really did."
Behind them, Koneko watched with a flat face and a tail that flicked so hard it was practically vibrating.
Ren glanced back. "Jealous?"
"…Yes," Koneko said honestly.
"Good." His grin turned crooked. "Jealousy just means you care. We'll balance it out. I've got time."
Kuroka let out a breathless laugh, some of her usual playfulness returning. "You say that so casually… Ren-nyan, you're going to drive us crazy."
"Probably," he agreed.
...
They ended that session sprawled under a tree at the edge of the field.
Koneko sat on his lap sideways, back against his chest, a book open but mostly forgotten in her hands. Kuroka lay curled against his other side, head on his shoulder, her tail occasionally flicking across his stomach like it had its own mischievous agenda.
The Veil's patterns hummed quietly through their bodies, a constant reminder of his protection, of the alien system he'd stitched into this world's rules.
The sun filtered through leaves, painting dappled patterns over skin and cloth. The air smelled like grass and faint incense from the manor.
It was then, in that lazy warmth, that Ren dropped his next stone into the pond.
"By the way," he said, eyes half-closed, "before our date, I'm going to Kyoto."
Both sisters looked up in unison.
"Kyoto?" Koneko repeated.
Kuroka's ears twitched. "To see the youkai leader, nya? The fox lady?"
"Yasaka," Ren confirmed. "Nine-tailed fox, runs Kyoto's youkai side. She sent that little messenger the other day, remember? Wants to thank me in person for throwing a big 'do not touch' sign over her city when the Alliance of Hell started getting creative."
Kuroka narrowed her eyes, tail lashing once. "And is that all you're going for?" she drawled. "Ren-nyan collects dragon girls, devil girls, angel girls… now fox ladies too?"
Ren laughed. "If something happens, it happens," he said, utterly frank. "I'm not hunting. She invited me. I like Kyoto. I like seeing how people live. Fate can do what it wants."
Koneko stared at him, unimpressed. "…You say things like that and expect us to be calm."
Kuroka huffed. "Hmph. If you come back smelling like fox, I'll bite you."
"That sounds like a fun evening," Ren said, eyes amused. "Relax. I'm not forgetting our date. If anything, this is reconnaissance. I want to make sure Kyoto's safe enough to take you there one day without worrying about some idiot god trying to crash it."
That, more than anything, soothed them.
Koneko's tail slowly unwound from where it had curled tight around his leg. Kuroka muttered something under her breath about "playboy cultivators," then leaned in and nipped his shoulder lightly anyway, just to prove a point.
"Fine," she grumbled. "Go charm the fox. But don't make her cry. Otherwise I have to side with her out of sisterhood, nya."
Ren grinned. "Deal."
...
Kyoto.
Ren stepped through space with a twist of his Dao, and the world changed.
The air here smelled different—older, layered. The breath of the city was incense and exhaust woven together, shrine bells and school chimes echoing in the same distance.
Under the asphalt, leylines flowed in intricate loops—a network of spiritual rivers winding around ancient temples, through tight alleyways, beneath glass towers. They intersected like a web of glowing threads, carrying the pulse of countless humans and youkai.
Fox-fire flickered unseen between torii gates. Paper wards nailed to old wood stones whispered as he passed, reacting to an aura that did not fit their categories.
Ren arrived in a narrow alley behind a small shrine, stepping out of a ripple in space. The shrine itself was simple: red torii, stone lanterns, a worn stone fox staring serenely at the street.
The moment his feet touched Kyoto soil, the world noticed.
Youkai senses brushed against him, recoiled, then crept back like nervous hands reaching toward a flame. Kyoto's barrier pushed at his presence, trying to classify him—devil, god, dragon, angel, something from Takamagahara.
It failed.
Saint Kingdom stayed folded, but its shadow pressed lightly against the inner Kyoto barrier. Dao-lines in Ren's body hummed, meeting the Shinto-patterned wards with quiet, unyielding confidence.
The barrier flexed.
Then, recognizing the familiar signature of the earlier "blessing" he'd laid over the city and Yasaka's prior mark anchored in his soul, it parted.
On a nearby rooftop, shadows detached from the tiles.
Two figures dropped down, landing noiselessly on the alley stones.
They wore fox masks, stylized and smiling, with blue-white flames swirling faintly around their hands. Their outfits were traditional shrine garb subtly reinforced with spiritual armor—modern protection hidden under old cloth.
"Ren Ming-dono?" one asked cautiously, voice muffled by the mask.
Ren raised a hand in greeting. "That's me."
The other relaxed, flames shrinking. "Our apologies," she said, bowing. "Kyoto has had… incidents recently. We were ordered to escort you directly to the inner sanctuary."
"Fair enough," Ren said easily. "If you hadn't checked, I'd be disappointed. Lead the way. I was about two minutes away from getting lost on purpose."
They traded quick glances at his tone—too casual for someone radiating that kind of pressure.
Then they turned and led him out of the alley.
...
They didn't take him through tourist Kyoto.
They took him through the seams.
Normal pedestrians flowed around them, oblivious, as the fox-masked sentries guided Ren down side streets and between vending machines, across back steps and through small, half-forgotten shrines. With each torii they passed under, the world thickened.
Inner Kyoto unfolded.
The mortal city layered with another—lantern-lit streets that only existed at certain angles, bridges of pale light arcing over rooftops, tiny shrines that expanded into palaces when viewed from the right direction.
Youkai children watched from behind pillars and paper doors, ears and tails twitching as they caught a glimpse of him. Some looked wary. Some, curious. More than a few smelled faintly of fear.
Ren's eyes flicked over a particular intersection where three leylines met. For a heartbeat, he saw it: a faint, lingering stain of twisted energy. A curse anchor, once powerful, now nothing but a shadow burned into the pattern.
Angra's flavor clung to it like old smoke.
For such a small layer of curse, Ren Ming didn't mind getting rid of it. Both to clear up any hidden troubles in the future and for Angra to get more confident when he starts to act relaxed, wanting him to believe he doesn't consider his curses a threat at all.
His fingers twitched.
Without breaking stride, he brushed his hand against the air.
A sliver of Calamity-Shearing Veil unfolded—too small for anyone but the most sensitive to see. It slid into the stain, its alien Dao cutting the last threads of that old curse anchor.
The residue broke apart, dissolving into harmless fragments that Myriad Origin quietly devoured and recycled into his own circulation.
One of the fox-masked escorts stuttered a step.
She'd felt something vanish—a tiny pressure that had been there so long everyone had stopped noticing.
Ren pretended not to see her surprised glance.
"Nice city," he said instead. "Feels like it remembers its own stories."
"…We work hard to preserve them," the first escort replied quietly.
At last, the shifting streets opened into a wide courtyard before a grand shrine.
The main building rose in graceful tiers of lacquered wood and curved roofs, its presence dignified rather than oppressive. Cherry trees lined the stone path, blooming out of season, petals drifting on a breeze shaped by the leylines themselves.
In the center of the courtyard stood a woman and a girl.
Ren recognized the girl first.
Long blonde hair tied in a high ponytail. Two fluffy fox tails twitching anxiously behind her. Fox ears flicking every few seconds. A small kimono patterned with flames, slightly too formal for how she fidgeted.
Kunou.
Daughter of Yasaka. Future ruler of Kyoto, if she had anything to say about it.
Beside her stood Yasaka.
Her golden hair fell in a thick cascade, fox ears peeking through. A formal kimono hugged her figure with practiced elegance, nine tails fanned behind her in a controlled arc. Her eyes were warm gold—the color of late afternoon sunlight over temple roofs, soft but not weak.
Power wrapped around her like a second kimono—restrained, measured, calmer than most devils Ren had met. Leader of Kyoto's youkai. Pillar holding this city's spiritual spine.
As Ren approached, Yasaka bowed with graceful precision.
"Welcome to Kyoto," she said. Her voice was soft, but carried clearly. "I am Yasaka, leader of the Kyoto Youkai Faction. It is an honor to finally meet you in person, Ren Ming-dono."
Ren waved a hand. "Just Ren is fine," he replied. "If I start answering to '-dono', someone should probably check if I've been cursed."
Kunou shuffled, then stepped forward, trying valiantly to match her mother's formal air.
"I—I am Kunou," she declared, voice wobbling only a little. "Daughter of Yasaka… administrator of the youkai living in inner and outer Kyoto."
She peeked up at him, cheeks red. "Th-Thank you for protecting our city, Ren… Ren-sama."
Ren smiled down at her. "Just Ren," he repeated, gentle. "And you did great with that first message, by the way. Very proper. I could tell you care about this place."
Kunou's ears perked. "R-Really?"
"Really," he said. "You've got more spine than most gods I've met."
Yasaka's lips curved slightly, the tension in her shoulders easing a fraction.
"Would you join us for tea?" she asked. "There is much I would say, but… I would rather not do so in front of the entire courtyard."
"Tea sounds perfect," Ren said. "Lead the way."
...
The inner garden felt like stepping into a past Kyoto that refused to fade.
They sat on a wooden engawa overlooking a clear pond. Koi drifted lazily under the water's surface, their slow movements creating ripples that the leylines quietly echoed. A stone lantern stood at the water's edge; somewhere, a bell chimed, the sound running along unseen spiritual channels.
Yasaka knelt with practiced grace, pouring tea. Kunou sat beside her, back arrow-straight, hands on her knees. Ren sat opposite them, legs stretched out, posture loose but gaze attentive, every ward and formation recorded in his inner world.
"For Kyoto," Yasaka began, "these past days have been… heavy."
"I can imagine," Ren replied. "Alliance of Hell, Khaos Brigade, stray idiots chasing power. You're juggling tourism, ancient grudges, and gods with egos too big for their own shrines. That's a lot to carry."
Yasaka blinked. The way he listed it—matter-of-fact, without sympathy that condescended or flattery that glossed—hit deeper than she expected.
"We have endured much, yes," she said slowly. "There have been… incidents. Rogue exorcists. Stray devils. A certain group interested in our leylines." Her tone dipped at that. "Our children have been targeted more than once."
Kunou's small hands clenched on her knees.
Ren's eyes softened.
"And yet you're still here," he said. "City's still standing. Your people can still laugh and bicker. That's impressive."
She gave a small, self-deprecating laugh. "For one such as you, who erased a god and threatened to slap the Alliance of Hell into the Dimensional Gap, it must seem… small."
"Don't do that," Ren said mildly.
Her brows rose.
"Don't shrink your work just because someone louder showed up," he continued. "You've been holding this place together for years. I'm just the weird cultivator who wandered in recently and flipped a table or two."
Kunou coughed, a giggle escaping at the image of Ren literally flipping a divine banquet table.
Yasaka's eyes curved. "You speak very strangely," she said, amusement threading her fatigue. "But I find it… comforting."
They talked.
About Kyoto's leylines and the way Yasaka guided them like a conductor leading a silent orchestra.
About how hard it was to let humans wander through holy ground without getting caught in youkai affairs.
About Kunou's training, her desire to be a ruler worthy of Kyoto rather than just "Yasaka's daughter."
About how Ren's declaration over Kuoh had hit the youkai networks—like a thunderclap in clear weather, terrifying and liberating at once.
Ren listened more than he spoke.
When he did speak, it was in that relaxed, modern cadence; jokes slipped in between lines of sharp understanding. He asked about pressure points in Kyoto's defense, about the kinds of curses they'd dealt with, about how far the Alliance's attention had strayed into their territory.
He never once asked for favors.
He never once hinted at what Kyoto could give him.
Finally, as steam from the tea curled between them, he reached into his pocket.
"I brought a housewarming gift," he said.
He flicked his fingers.
A talisman unfolded between them—a narrow strip of grey paper, threads of Dao-script and this world's magic intertwined across its surface. It tugged at the soul, subtle but undeniable.
Yasaka's eyes sharpened. "This is…"
"Soul-locked communication," Ren said. "Same network I handed to Odin, Michael, Azazel, a few other VIPs. You pour your ki in, sync it to your soul. If Kyoto hits a real crisis point, you yank on it. No summoning circles. No politics. No waiting for someone to pick up a magic phone. I'll feel it."
Kunou leaned forward, eyes practically glowing. "Y-You will… come if we call?"
Ren nodded. "If some god from Hades' side or a leftover from the Alliance of Hell decides Kyoto looks like a nice weak point to poke, I'll show up and slap them back into the dark. Or off the board entirely if they insist on being stupid."
Yasaka's breath left her in a quiet exhale.
"You offer this so casually," she murmured. "You must know that accepting such a bond is not something I can do lightly. The Shinto gods, Takamagahara… there will be consequences."
Ren's smile tilted a little wolfish.
"Let them complain," he said. "Remember what I said? I like this place. Anyone who wants to mess with it gets slapped to the Yellow Springs. Simple."
Kunou shivered—not with fear, but with that same awe she'd felt when watching his declaration over Kuoh.
Yasaka reached out.
Her fingers touched the talisman.
Warmth flared as her ki sank into the Dao-script. The pattern shifted, acknowledging her as an anchor, tying Kyoto's spiritual signature into Ren's personal network.
"Then Kyoto," she said quietly, "accepts the hand you extend."
Kunou bit her lip, then blurted out, "C-Can I have one too?"
Ren blinked, then laughed. "Sure," he said. "But yours is for smaller emergencies. If you call me because you're bored and want sweets, I'll still show up—but I reserve the right to tease you."
Kunou puffed up, flustered. "I-I would never abuse such a sacred item! …Probably."
He crafted a smaller talisman on his palm, tuned to her still-growing spiritual signature. The paper fluttered into her hands, light as a feather, heavy as a promise.
She held it like treasure.
...
The rest of the day was ordinary.
That was what made it precious.
Yasaka insisted on showing him parts of Kyoto that didn't exist on tourist guides. Narrow stone staircases that climbed between houses and opened onto hidden shrines. A tiny tea house where foxes and tanuki argued in low voices over shogi boards, illusions wrapped around them like coats. A quiet riverbank where the leylines sang loudest, visible to Ren's Dao-sight as strands of light weaving over the water.
Kunou walked between them, occasionally rushing ahead to point out favorite sweets shops or a particular bridge. When Ren praised her eye for where the leylines crossed strongest, she practically glowed.
"See?" she told her mother, tail fluffing. "I told you I can feel them better now."
Yasaka smiled, pride and tiredness mixing in her gaze. "You are improving, Kunou."
At one small shrine on a side street, Ren paused.
A twisted thread of curse energy clung to the stone fox there, so faint even most youkai would miss it. A remnant of someone's attempt to pry open Kyoto's defenses, now mostly washed away by Yasaka's work.
But "mostly" wasn't enough for him. This was more personal to him than the other small curse.
He reached out, fingers brushing the worn stone.
Calamity-Shearing Veil slipped out of him like a whisper, sliding along the curse thread. The alien law behind it cut through the lingering rot, severing it cleanly, then stripped the energy down to something harmless and fed it into Myriad Origin's loops.
The air around the shrine lightened.
Yasaka watched, eyes narrowing slightly.
"That technique," she said. "It doesn't feel like any purification I know. Not holy, not youkai, not even dragon. It is…"
"Foreign," Ren supplied. "Like I said. I'm not from your system."
He straightened, brushing dust from his fingers.
"But it works," he added. "Angra's brand of fun doesn't get to stay in your city. Not while I'm walking around."
Something in Yasaka's chest eased further.
For years, she had been the one who cleaned up curses no one else could see, patching holes in barriers that most gods barely noticed. Having someone casually slice through that rot with a tool that didn't even belong to this reality…
It felt like breathing deeper for the first time in a long time.
At one point, when Kunou ran ahead to chase a butterfly spirit flickering over the path, Yasaka slowed her steps.
Ren matched her pace, hands in his pockets, gaze drifting over lanterns swinging in the afternoon breeze.
"You are… very easy to speak with," she said softly. "For someone so unbound by our rules."
"Most people who come to see you want something," Ren said. "Power, alliances, favors. Or they're so terrified by your title they talk to 'Yasaka the leader' instead of the woman walking beside them."
He glanced at her, eyes warm but steady.
"I'm not here to trade favors. I just don't like watching good people snap under too much weight."
Yasaka's lips curved, a faint laugh slipping out before she could stop it. "You say such embarrassing things with a straight face," she murmured.
"I get that a lot," Ren said. "Still true, though."
He let his gaze slide over her, unhurried but not crude.
"You also look like you haven't had a proper day off in years," he added. "That alone puts you dangerously close to my type."
Yasaka actually choked, laughter spilling out fully this time. For a moment, the leader of Kyoto vanished, leaving just a woman startled by how directly she'd been seen.
Kunou, returning in a rush of tails and bright eyes, skidded to a stop at the sound of her mother laughing.
She stared up at Ren.
"…I've never heard Mother laugh like that with someone she just met," she said, suspicious and hopeful all at once.
Ren gave her a lazy grin. "What can I say? I've got good timing."
...
By the time the sun dipped low over Kyoto's tiled roofs, the garden lanterns were already lit.
Back at the main shrine gate, the world outside looked ordinary again—tourists passing, the distant rumble of traffic, the smell of street food drifting in.
Inside the barrier, it was warmer. Softer. A little less weighed down.
Ren stood facing Yasaka and Kunou, hands in his pockets, Saint Kingdom a quiet weight at his back.
"I'll be around," he said. "Regularly. Whether it's training, politics, or just walking and eating snacks. If you ever feel like you're going to snap, use the talisman. Or just… come visit Kuoh. My manor's door is open."
Yasaka bowed deeply, golden hair sliding forward like a curtain.
"You have my gratitude," she said. Then, after a heartbeat: "…And my curiosity."
Kunou bowed too, tails fluffed, cheeks pink.
"Please come back soon!" she blurted. "We will… we will welcome you properly next time!"
Ren grinned, the expression bright and easy.
"Looking forward to it, Princess Fox."
The leylines stirred as he stepped away, space already bending, ready to carry him back to Kuoh.
Behind him, Yasaka watched the ripples fade.
Beside her, Kunou clutched her talisman to her chest.