It happened without a ceremony.
No trumpets. No glowing sigils in the sky. Just paperwork, side-eyes, and the fact that people started coming to him instead of pretending he was a rumor.
It began with the third incident.
The first had been the cursed boar.
The second, the Western exorcist idiots.
The third was dumber and nastier: a pack of low-level, half-feral youkai pushed over the edge by spiked charms someone had smuggled into a back alley bar.
Kyoto could have handled it.
Alaudi did instead.
He walked in as foxfire and teeth snapped at everything that moved. Cloud Flames slid across the floor, up the walls, around table legs. The moment the corrupted energy tried to jump hosts, his domain closed like a fist.
He didn't hurt the youkai.
He just pinned them—gently, by his standards—and peeled the poison out.
By the time Yasaka's people arrived, the entire bar was wrapped in a violet cocoon, all hostile magic balled into a single, hissing knot in the center.
"Yours," Alaudi said, flicking it toward the nearest lieutenant.
She caught it in a warded talisman like it was a live grenade.
Later, he heard one of them mutter, not quietly enough:
"…if that's him 'just training,' I see why Yasaka-sama's humoring this."
Word spread.
A week after that, he and Ren were at the shrine again—Ren in a low stance, hands open, pulling in and releasing his power in controlled pulses; Alaudi monitoring, arms folded, Hibird acting as a chirping metronome—when a familiar kitsune tail-tip appeared at the top step.
The same three-tailed lieutenant from before.
"Summons," she said.
Alaudi arched a brow. Ren straightened on instinct.
"Yasaka-sama requests your presence," the fox added. "And the boy's."
Ren went pale. "Did I—"
"If you'd offended Kyoto, you'd know," Alaudi said. "Move."
The audience hall wasn't grand by devil standards.
Youkai preferred lived-in weight over ostentatious marble: tatami mats, warm lantern light, the faint smell of incense and tea. Yasaka sat on a simple raised platform, kimono immaculate, hair loose down her back, tails fanned in relaxed arcs.
Relaxed for her, anyway.
Alaudi and Ren stopped at the correct distance. Ren bowed stiffly. Hibird clung to his shoulder like a decorative stress ball. Roll, having refused to be left behind, settled at Alaudi's heel.
"Alaudi. Ren," Yasaka greeted. "Thank you for coming."
"You gestured," Alaudi said. "We walked."
Ren made a small panicked noise. Yasaka just smiled.
"Direct," she said. "As always."
Her gaze moved to Ren. "How is your training?"
Ren swallowed. "Better, Yasaka-sama. I'm not… spilling as much."
"He's usable," Alaudi said. "Not safe. Yet."
Ren flinched. Yasaka watched both their faces and seemed quietly satisfied.
"Honesty," she said. "Good. Then I'll be honest as well."
She folded her hands in her lap.
"Outside forces have taken renewed interest in Kyoto," she said. "Our watchers have confirmed that the group you routed was sending data to a network with ties to the so-called Hero Faction."
Ren's eyes widened. Alaudi's narrowed.
"Early," he said.
"Exploratory," Yasaka corrected. "They are still building. But they prod at strongholds. Ours. Yours. The Underworld's. Heaven's."
There it was.
"If Hero Faction escalates," Alaudi said, "they'll come for symbolic targets. You. Kunou. Kyoto's balance."
Yasaka inclined her head. "Which is why I want to formalize something."
Ren went even stiffer. Hibird's claws dug in.
Alaudi waited.
"You have already acted three times in Kyoto's defense," Yasaka said. "Unbidden. Effectively. Without overstepping the terms we agreed upon. My people are divided on what that makes you."
"Annoying," Alaudi suggested.
The fox lieutenant coughed to hide a laugh.
Yasaka's eyes warmed. "Some say 'liability.' Some say 'tool.' Some say 'ally.' I choose 'guardian.'"
Ren's breath hitched.
Alaudi frowned. "We talked about this. Guest. Not—"
"I am not asking you to swear fealty," Yasaka said, voice gentle but precise. "I am acknowledging what you already do. 'Guardian of Kyoto' is not a title of ownership. It is a statement of trust and expectation."
She let the words settle.
"It means," she continued, "that if Kyoto is threatened, I consider your interference welcome, not suspicious. It tells my people that targeting you is the same as sabotaging our own shield. It tells our enemies that every attempt to use this city as a playground will meet not only foxfire, but a Cloud that does not yield."
Ren stared at Alaudi like he was hearing prophecy.
Alaudi folded his arms. "And the chains?"
"No chains," Yasaka said. "No oath that binds you beyond what you've already accepted. I do not collar stray storms. I simply ask: when you choose to stand here, do so knowing Kyoto stands with you in return."
He hated that it was… reasonable.
He looked aside, thinking.
Titles were knives. The Himejima had carved him with theirs. Grigori had labeled him behind glass.
This—this was a label that backed off when he backed off.
A recognition of something he'd already started doing.
"Guardian is a big word," he said.
"You're already doing the work," Yasaka said softly.
Ren whispered, "You're not going to say no… right?"
Alaudi glanced down at him. The kid's aura was tight with anxiety and pride.
Hibird pecked him once, like: stop overthinking and accept being wanted, idiot.
Roll bumped his ankle. Traitor.
He exhaled, long and slow.
"Fine," he said. "On record: if I'm in Kyoto and someone tries to break it, I break them first. If I leave, the title stays here."
"That is acceptable," Yasaka said, and there was genuine relief in it. "Then, Alaudi Himejima, as leader of the West Youkai Faction, I recognize you as a Guardian of Kyoto."
No glow. No sigil.
Just words.
Inside his chest, the Cloud Flames flared.
And above his heart, above the shrine in his mind, that faint pale-gold crown snapped into sharper focus—lines drawing between him, the city, the shrine, Ren, Hibird, Roll.
Connection.
He stiffened.
Yasaka's gaze sharpened; she saw it. Of course she did.
"You feel it," she said quietly.
"Not your doing," Alaudi said. "Sacred Gear."
Sky Crown pulsed once in acknowledgment.
He hadn't accepted it. He'd accepted a bond.
It had taken that as an opening.
Yasaka nodded slowly. "Then Kyoto is not the only one who agrees."
Alaudi gave the invisible thing a mental shove. It didn't retreat this time; it settled. Cooperative. Not invasive.
He could work with that.
"Is that all?" he asked.
"For now," Yasaka said. "Train. Watch. If Hero Faction or any other hand reaches again, we will move together."
He inclined his head, bare minimum politeness hiding something grudgingly deeper.
Ren bowed so fast Hibird almost fell.
They left.
Back at the shrine, Ren buzzed like a shaken soda.
"You're a Guardian," he blurted the second they stepped through the torii. "She said it. Officially. That means—"
"It means nothing changes," Alaudi said. "We do the work we were already doing. People have fewer excuses to complain about it."
"It's not nothing," Ren said stubbornly. "They trust you."
Alaudi started up the steps. "They trust that I'm predictable."
"That too," Ren admitted. "But in a good way."
Hibird fluttered to Alaudi's shoulder, chirping a smug little tune. Roll hopped ahead, leaving tiny violet pawprints that faded slowly.
Alaudi stood in the center of the courtyard and let his Cloud Flames spill out.
They covered the stone, the pillars, the worn offertory box. They tasted the air, brushed the trees, reached down the path.
Kyoto's wards brushed back, not irritated this time.
Linked.
For three breaths, he let the Sky Crown's sense of structure overlay it all.
Cloud: claim and defend.
Sky: see and connect.
Guardian: the idiot standing between those and the next invasive experiment.
He pulled it all back in before it could anchor too deep.
Ren watched him, wide-eyed. "What did it feel like?"
"Loud," Alaudi said. Then, after a beat: "Right."
Ren smiled.
"You, too," Alaudi added. "If you're staying here, you train like this place depends on you as much as you depend on it."
Ren straightened. "Yes."
"Good," Alaudi said. "Stance drills. Top to bottom. If you fall over, start again."
Ren groaned. "You just got promoted and immediately became worse."
"Perks of the job," Alaudi said.
Hibird cackled.
Roll sparked.
Kyoto listened to the lone Cloud and did not reject him.
It was subtle, fragile, and absolutely deniable—but for the first time in his life, Alaudi was something other than "weapon" or "mistake" in someone else's mouth.
He'd live with "Guardian."
On his terms.