Two days had passed since Nijo Castle
The Hero Faction's Kyoto cell was gone. Cao Cao and the survivors had vanished into whatever hole they crawled from, and the ley lines had quieted to a gentle hum.
Kyoto's youkai had declared a week-long festival in honour of "the Dragon who saved our Lady," which meant the streets were full of paper lanterns, sake barrels, and fox-fireworks every night.
But inside Yasaka's official residence—a sprawling, centuries-old compound hidden behind layered illusion barriers—the mood was anything but festive.
The main tatami hall had been turned into an emergency summit.
Rias Gremory sat seiza-style at the head of the low table, crimson hair loose, arms folded, the faintest pout still lingering on her lips.
Beside her: Akeno (trying not to giggle), Koneko (munching senbei), Kiba (polite smile), Xenovia (arms crossed, nodding seriously), and Irina (hands clasped in prayer position, wings twitching).
On the opposite side: Sona Sitri and Tsubaki, both in visitor hakama, looking like they were attending a funeral.
Raynare, Kalawarner, and Mittelt lounged dramatically against the wall, wings folded, smirking at the tension.
Issei sat dead centre, legs numb from seiza, face already pink because Kunou was perched right beside him—tiny hands gripping his sleeve like a life-line.
And in the middle of the table sat the source of everyone's attention: one pristine, glossy Master Ball, no bigger than a persimmon, resting on a velvet cushion like it was the Imperial Regalia.
Rias broke the silence first.
"So let me get this straight," she said, voice dangerously sweet. "You three—my boyfriend, my bishop, and a nine-year-old princess—fought five elite Hero Faction members, destroyed a pocket dimension, rescued the leader of all Kyoto youkai… and then sealed her inside a toy ball because she was 'a little angry'?"
Issei's blush climbed to his ears. "It's… not a toy. It's a Master Ball. One hundred percent capture rate. And she was about to turn half the city into a crater."
Akeno finally lost it, covering her mouth with her sleeve. "Ara ara~ So Issei-kun has a beautiful nine-tailed empress in his pocket right now. How romantic."
Raynare snorted. "Pervert dragon strikes again."
Kalawarner leaned over, smirking. "Bet she's furious in there. I like her already."
Koneko crunched another senbei. "…Oppai storage expanded to mythical leaders. Impressive."
Kunou's ears flattened. She had been unusually quiet until now, tail tips flicking nervously. Then she suddenly stood up on her knees, tiny fists balled.
"Mama is not just 'a little angry'! She's the most beautiful, strongest, hottest fox in all the youkai world! Hotter than every youkai combined! When she gets out she's going to—"
She froze.
Realised what she just said.
Her entire face went crimson, ears drooping, nine tails poofing out like dandelions. "I-I mean… she's… really powerful and… um…"
The room went dead silent for exactly two seconds.
Then chaos.
Akeno: "Ara~ Kunou-chan understands already!"
Rias: "Hotter than every youkai combined…?"
Irina: "Wait, did she just call her mom sexy?"
Xenovia nodded sagely. "Objective fact. Nine-tailed foxes are peak aesthetic."
Sona pushed up her glasses, cheeks pink. "We are getting off topic."
Issei's face was now the same shade as Rias's hair. Steam was practically coming out of his ears.
"K-Kunou-chan, you can't just say stuff like that about your own mom!"
Kunou buried her face in his sleeve with a tiny, mortified squeak. "Sh-shut up, Onii-chan! I didn't mean it like that!"
Mittelt was literally rolling on the floor laughing. Raynare had to lean on Kalawarner to stay upright.
Rias cleared her throat, trying (and failing) to regain control. "Moving on. Issei. When exactly are you planning to release Lady Yasaka?"
Issei straightened, forcing his blush down with sheer willpower. He placed one careful hand over the Master Ball.
"I'll release her the moment she's calm. I can feel her aura inside—it's still a raging inferno. If I let her out now, she'll level this entire compound the second she remembers Jeanne tried to stab Kunou-chan from behind. I promised Kunou I'd bring her mom back safe, not bring back a natural disaster."
Kunou peeked out from his sleeve, golden eyes watery but trusting. "Onii-chan promised…"
Rias sighed, the last of her anger melting. She reached across the table and flicked Issei's forehead gently.
"You reckless idiot. Next time you decide to fight a terrorist cell and pocket a mythological leader, you tell me first."
Issei rubbed his forehead, grinning sheepishly. "Yes, ma'am."
Sona adjusted her glasses again. "For the record, the Sitri and Gremory houses will provide whatever diplomatic cover is needed. Lady Yasaka's… temporary containment… will be classified. The youkai are already calling Issei 'Dragon-sama' in the streets. Releasing her calmly will turn gratitude into alliance."
Kiba smiled warmly. "In other words, well done, Issei."
Kunou tugged Issei's sleeve again, voice small. "You really will let Mama out soon… right?"
Issei ruffled her hair, careful of the ears. "The second she stops trying to burn a hole through the ball with her glare, I swear on my dragon soul, I'll open it right in front of you. Deal?"
Kunou nodded, ears perking a little. "…Deal."
The Master Ball pulsed once on the cushion—almost like an impatient knock from inside.
Akeno giggled. "I think she heard that."
Rias exhaled, finally smiling. "Fine. But you're sleeping on the couch until she's free, mister 'I fight gods and stuff them in balls'."
Issei groaned. Everyone else laughed.
Outside the shoji screens, late-autumn sunlight filtered through maple leaves, painting the room in soft gold.
Inside, the strangest family in the three factions sat around a table, a nine-tailed empress quietly fuming in a capture sphere, and a dragon boy wondering exactly how he was going to explain to a very, very angry (and apparently very hot) fox mom that he had technically kidnapped her for her own good.
But for now, the war was over.
For now, there was only the warmth of friends, the embarrassed squeak of a little fox princess, and the gentle, steady pulse of a Master Ball that held an entire mythology's worth of gratitude—and fury—inside.