Two months had slipped by like cherry blossoms on the wind-fragile, fleeting, yet leaving an indelible mark on the soul.
The Kyoto incident had faded into legend among the youkai, with Yasaka's "mysterious seclusion" spun into tales of divine meditation rather than a teenage dragon stuffing her into a capture sphere.
The Hero Faction's Kyoto cell was a ghost, Cao Cao's whereabouts whispered only in Azazel's encrypted reports: licking wounds in some Himalayan bolt-hole, plotting but not striking.
Heaven thrummed under Elysara's gentle yet absolute rule, her omniversal touch mending the fractures left by God's death with miracles that felt like mother's lullabies. And Hell? Well, that was a conversation for another summit.
For Issei Hyoudou, the interim had been a whirlwind of domestic bliss amid the gathering storm. The inter-faction peace conference-long awaited, meticulously planned-loomed like a thunderhead on the horizon, set to convene tomorrow on Azazel's neutral floating isle.
Representatives from every pantheon: devils under Sirzechs (now demoted to "advisory Satan"), angels led by a beaming Gabriel (Elysara's proxy on earth), fallen angels with Azazel's irreverent grin, Norse gods with Odin's lecherous entourage, Greek Olympians nursing old grudges, Hindu devas with their elephant-headed wisdom, and even a contingent from the youkai under Yasaka's golden banner.
The agenda: formalize the alliance, divvy up Khaos Brigade bounties, and pretend no one remembered the last time gods met without someone trying to end the world.
But tonight, in the opulent warmth of the Gremory estate's grand sitting room, the weight of tomorrow felt distant. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked snow-dusted gardens, where fireflies (summoned by Akeno's whim) danced in eternal summer glow.
The air smelled of cinnamon tea and fresh mochi, courtesy of Koneko's latest baking spree. Tatami mats cushioned the low table, surrounded by cushions piled high with silk throws. It was a sanctuary, a bubble of normalcy before the storm.
Issei lounged at the table's head, yukata loosely tied, his 14-inch cosmic endowment mercifully dormant under the fabric. Flanking him were his girlfriends-a constellation of power, beauty, and barely contained chaos that would make lesser men weep.
To his immediate left: Rias Gremory, crimson hair cascading like spilled wine, her head resting on his shoulder, fingers tracing lazy patterns on his thigh. She'd been the anchor these two months, her bond a steady flame amid the whirlwind.
Next to her: Akeno Himejima, violet eyes half-lidded in contentment, legs tucked under her in a black kimono that hugged her curves like a lover's whisper. She'd taken to "accidentally" shocking the estate's wards just to watch Issei chase her down the halls.
Across: Koneko Toujou, the newest addition to the intimate circle. The white-haired nekomata had confessed in a mochi-induced sugar rush two weeks ago, her tiny frame curling into his lap as she mumbled, "You're warm. Don't leave." Now she perched on a cushion, nibbling a rice cake, her tail flicking possessively against his ankle-sisterly affection for Asia, but fire for him.
Further along: Irina Shidou and Xenovia Quarta, Rias's reincarnated pawns turned lovers.
Irina, with her demonic wings tucked away, leaned against Xenovia's shoulder, giggling over a shared photo album of their "training sessions" that were anything but.
Xenovia, ever the stoic swordswoman, had melted during a post-spar steam bath last month, her callused hands pulling him close with a gruff, "You're mine now, pervert."
They flanked the table's edge, Irina's laughter a bright counterpoint to Xenovia's contented hum.
Raynare, Kalawarner, and Mittelt sprawled on the opposite cushions, the fallen angel trio a whirlwind of dark feathers and sharper smiles.
Raynare toyed with a lock of his hair, her violet eyes promising mischief.
Kalawarner stretched languidly, her hourglass figure on full display in a cropped top.
While Mittelt doodled cartoon dragons on a napkin, occasionally glancing up with a pout that demanded attention.
Sona Sitri sat slightly apart, legs folded primly, glasses perched on her nose as she reviewed conference notes on a holographic tablet.
She'd been his girlfriend since the Excalibur days, her analytical mind a perfect foil to his impulsiveness. Tonight, though, even she had set the work aside, a rare softness in her blue eyes as she watched the group.
And Asia? Sweet Asia Argento, the eternal sister in this tangled family. She sat cross-legged beside Koneko, blonde hair tied in a loose braid, munching mochi with the innocence of someone who saw battles as puzzles to solve, not scars to bear.
The Boosted Gear gauntlet rested dormant on her wrist, a crimson bracelet now. Issei ruffled her hair affectionately whenever she leaned too close, earning a giggle and a playful swat.
"Big brother Issei, stop it!" she'd protest, but her green eyes shone with the unshakeable trust of family, not flames of romance.
The room buzzed with easy chatter-reminiscences of Kyoto ("Remember when Kunou tried to set Cao Cao's pants on fire?"), teasing about new relationships ("Xenovia, you called him 'my holy pervert' during sparring-Irina has photos!"), and light-hearted jabs at the upcoming summit ("If Odin gropes anyone, I'm using Dragon Slayer on his beard," Xenovia declared, to general laughter).
Issei soaked it in, the warmth of their presence a balm against the gnawing anticipation.
Two months of this-nights tangled in sheets with Rias and Akeno, lazy afternoons sparring with Xenovia and Irina (that had escalated quickly into "post-spar rewards"), quiet evenings baking with Koneko (her tiny hands guiding his through dough, ending in flour fights and stolen kisses).
The fallen angels had claimed their shares too: Raynare's possessive bites during midnight flights, Kalawarner's slow, teasing dances in the estate's ballroom, Mittelt's playful pounces that left them both breathless and laughing.
Sona's love was quieter-shared books in the library, her head on his lap as she murmured strategies, dissolving into passion when the door locked.
It was domestic divinity, a harem not of conquest but choice, each woman a pillar in the fortress of his heart.
Asia remained the untouched center-his little sister, protected, cherished, her Boosted Gear a shared legacy they trained together, her smiles a reminder of why he fought.
But as the mochi dwindled and laughter softened, Issei felt the weight settle. Tomorrow's conference wasn't just politics; it was the fragile thread binding worlds.
And there was one secret he'd carried too long, one that could shatter the evening's peace.
He set his tea down, the porcelain clinking softly. "Hey... everyone? I need to tell you something. About Elysara."
The room stilled. Rias lifted her head, crimson eyes sharpening. Akeno tilted hers, curiosity flickering. Koneko paused mid-bite, tail stilling. The others leaned in-Raynare's smirk fading, Sona's tablet dimming.
Issei rubbed his neck, cheeks warming. "Before she... y'know, ascended and took over Heaven?..."
He swallowed, the words heavy. "We... we had a night. Intense. And... she's pregnant. With my kid. Due in seven months."
Silence crashed like a wave.
Rias's eyes widened, fork frozen halfway to her mouth. Akeno's teacup rattled in its saucer. Koneko's rice cake crumbled in her grip. Irina gasped, hand flying to her mouth; Xenovia blinked, processing.
Raynare's wings twitched half-open; Kalawarner choked on her tea; Mittelt's doodle dragon turned into a scribble. Sona's glasses slipped down her nose.
Pregnant. Elysara-the Goddess of Everything, omnipotent weaver of realities-carrying his child. A divine heir, conceived in cosmic passion before her throne.
The shock rippled outward, faces paling, then flushing. Rias recovered first, voice a whisper. "Issei... a child? With the literal goddess of all existence?"
He nodded, cheeks burning. "Yeah. It... happened fast. Before the heaven takeover. She's handling it up there-says the kid's already bending space in her womb. But I wanted you all to know. Before tomorrow, when everything's out in the open."
Akeno's hand found his under the table, squeezing. "Ara... our dragon, father to a godling. How utterly... perfect."
Koneko swallowed her crumb, small voice steady. "...Big brother to a baby god. Okay."
Irina clasped her hands, eyes shining. "A miracle! Like the Bible, but with more... um, passion?"
Xenovia nodded firmly. "Strong bloodline. The child will wield Excalibur in the cradle."
Raynare smirked through her shock, leaning in. "Our pervert knocked up a goddess. Fitting."
Kalawarner wiped tea from her chin, grinning. "Explains the quakes. Divine conception vibes."
Mittelt hugged her knees, blushing. "A little dragon-goddess... can I be the cool aunt?"
Sona adjusted her glasses, analytical mind whirring. "The implications... a hybrid of your draconic essence and her omnipotence. The conference will fracture over succession rights alone."
Rias pulled him closer, forehead to his. "Shocked? Yes. But... proud. Our family grows, Issei. Even to the heavens."
The tension broke into murmurs-questions tumbling: "Boy or girl?" (Elysara wouldn't say), "Will it have tails?" (Yasaka's influence?), "Conference announcement?" (Issei's call).
Laughter bubbled up, shock yielding to joy, hands linking in a circle around the table.
Asia, ever the heart, beamed from her cushion. "A baby sister or brother for all of us! I'll heal all the boo-boos!"
Issei exhaled, relief flooding him. They were his-flaws, fires, and all. The conference could wait; this was eternity.
In Kuoh - 08:30 p.m.
The estate's grand hall thrummed with energy as night fell. Dinner had been a feast-Akeno's thunderbird yakitori, Koneko's matcha tiramisu, Irina and Xenovia's "holy-demonic" fusion pasta that somehow didn't explode.
Laughter echoed off the rafters, wine flowing (Sona's vintage, non-alcoholic for the "responsible adults").
But as the clock ticked toward ten, a ripple stirred the air-a thunderclap without sound, ozone and old mead.
The doors swung open.
Odin strode in, the Allfather himself: one eye sharp as a raven's talon, the other hidden under a wide-brimmed hat adorned with raven feathers.
His beard was a cascade of silver, robes a patchwork of Asgardian gold and fur, spear Gungnir slung over one shoulder like a walking stick.
Behind him, a gaggle of Valkyries-blonde, brunette, redhead-hovered like overly enthusiastic bodyguards, eyes wide at the gathering.
Rias rose, diplomatic mask slipping on. "Allfather. To what do we owe this... unannounced visit?"
Odin waved a meaty hand, plopping onto a cushion uninvited, hat tipping back to reveal a grin that was equal parts grandfatherly and lecherous.
"Bah! Protocols be damned. I came to see the boy who's got the nine realms-and half of Asgard-buzzing like a kicked hornet's nest." His single eye fixed on Issei, twinkling with envy and amusement. "You, lad. The Perverted Dragon. Or whatever they're calling you these days."
Issei blinked, mid-bite of tiramisu. "Uh... Odin? Here? Now?"
The old god barked a laugh, slapping his knee. "Aye! Came for the summit tomorrow, but couldn't wait. Heard tales from my ravens-whispers from Kyoto foxes, heaven's choirs, even that upstart goddess of yours."
He leaned forward, eye narrowing conspiratorially. "But mostly... I came to say I'm jealous as Hel's own dog."
The room froze. Raynare's wing twitched. Akeno's teacup paused. Koneko's tail lashed.
Odin gestured grandly at the circle of women. "Look at you! Surrounded by the finest lasses in creation! That crimson temptress there-" he nodded at Rias, who flushed "-heiress to devilry itself, with a figure that could launch a thousand ships.
Beside her, the thunder witch-" Akeno, smirking "-fallen angel curves that make my Valkyries weep. The tiny neko assassin-" Koneko, ears flattening "-deceptively deadly, with eyes like jade daggers."
He swept on: "The raven-haired temptress and her blue-streaked storm-" Raynare and Kalawarner, preening "-fallen angels with wings sharp as my spear. The pint-sized holy terror-" Mittelt, sticking out her tongue "-small but vicious, like a well-aimed jotun rock. The sword-swinging saint and her blue-haired blade-sister-" Irina and Xenovia, blushing in unison "-Church girls gone rogue, pure fire in silk and steel. The bespectacled strategist-" Sona, adjusting her glasses primly "-cool as Valhalla's ice, but I wager hot as Muspelheim beneath."
Odin's eye gleamed, voice dropping to a gravelly whisper. "And don't think I forgot the goddess upstairs-" Elysara's name unspoken, but felt "-weaving realities from her navel, hotter than all heavens combined. Or that fox queen in Kyoto-" Yasaka, a purr in the air "-nine tails of sin, curves that could tempt the Norns themselves."
He leaned back, sighing theatrically. "Me? I've got Valkyries who think 'romance' is a spear thrust. And Rossweisse-poor lass, more interested in discount coupons than my beard. You, boy... you've got a harem that spans devils, fallen, neko, a goddess, and a youkai empress. Jealous? Lad, I'm green as Yggdrasil's bark!"
Laughter erupted-nervous at first, then genuine. Rias swatted Issei's arm. "See? Even gods envy you." Akeno giggled, Koneko huffed (but smiled), Irina and Xenovia shared a look, Raynare preened outright.
Issei scratched his head, blushing. "Uh... thanks? I guess? But it's not like that-"
Odin waved him off, rising with surprising spry. "Save the modesty for the summit, lad. Tomorrow, when we all sit pretty and sign pacts... remember: you've got the real power right here."
He winked at the group, spear twirling. "Don't let the old gods bore you. And if Loki shows his ugly mug... well, that's for tomorrow."
With a thunderclap and a swirl of ravens, he was gone.
The room exhaled. Sona closed her tablet. "Well. That was... Odin."
Rias pulled Issei close, voice soft. "Jealous gods or not... we're yours. Always."
As snow began to fall outside, the girlfriends piled around him-heads on shoulders, hands in hands, laughter weaving through the night. Asia curled nearby, mochi forgotten, smiling in her sleep.
Tomorrow, worlds would collide.
Tonight, love held court.