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[POV — Yuuki Rito] [Yuuki Residence — Morning]
DING.
My phone buzzed on the table with that annoying insistence only important messages have. I grabbed it, still half-asleep, and saw the name blinking on the screen: Irina Shidou.
Message from Michael. Meeting. Underworld. Mandatory presence.
Ah, crap.
I tossed the phone back onto the table with a soft THUD and slumped into a kitchen chair. Look, delegating work to Michael had been one of my best ideas—like, genius level. The guy is efficient, organized, and most importantly: he likes working.
Me? Not so much.
But apparently, being the head of the celestial faction means I sometimes have to show up and flash my face. Do politics. Smile at the right people. Pretend I know what I'm doing.
"What a pain," I muttered to no one in particular.
Lead billions of angels? No chance. That's Michael's job or Gabriel's. Or better yet, Seraphiel—my eldest son loves that stuff. I've got more important things to worry about.
Like…
SWISH… SWISH…
The sound of cloth scrubbing the floor pulled my eyes over. And there she was.
Cerys Agares.
My demonic maid, crouched on the floor, cleaning with almost religious dedication. The maid outfit—enthusiastically chosen by Lala and Mikan—looked like it had… shrunk? Or she'd hemmed it? Because wow, that was a lot shorter than I remembered.
Hmm…
My eyes traced the outline of that silhouette with purely… academic interest. Yes. Academic.
"Did she cut the outfit?" I whispered to myself, tilting my head for a slightly better view of that—
SLAP!
"Ow!" I yelped, rubbing my arm where the smack landed.
I glanced over to find Mikan in a pink apron, pouting with that "I saw what you were doing, you perv" face.
"Oni-chan," she said, voice heavy with maternal scolding, "you were staring again."
"No, I wasn't," I lied shamelessly.
"You were."
"…Okay, I was," I admitted, because lying to Mikan never works. The girl has a built-in lie detector in her DNA.
She crossed her arms, still pouting, and I couldn't help but smile. My little sister was jealous. Adorable.
And dangerous.
Because, technically, Mikan isn't just my human kid sister anymore. After I turned her into an angel—with six gorgeous wings, by the way—she got absurdly stronger. And more protective. And possessive.
Not that I'm complaining. It's cute. Most of the time.
"Sorry," I said, pulling her into a quick hug. "Won't happen again."
"Liar," she mumbled against my chest but relaxed into the hug anyway.
HUMMM…
My mind started to wander while I held Mikan. Couldn't help it—lately I'd been thinking a lot about the Sacred Gears I created.
It was an ambitious project. Take souls of heroes from the past and use them as fuel to forge new powers. I knew it'd come back to bite me eventually—especially since I used souls from other pantheons without asking.
But man, the possibilities were endless.
I made a Sacred Gear with a version of NZT—basically, it gives the user temporary superhuman intelligence. Perfect for strategists.
Others were elemental, based on Logia-type "Akuma no Mi." Except I obviously couldn't call them Akuma no Mi—"Devil Fruit"—so I renamed them Tenshi no Mi. Angel Fruits. Marketing, baby.
There were Paramecia types too. And Zoan. Each one giving the user a body akin to its original world.
Hehehehe…
I imagined the chaos the Soru Soru no Mi—Big Mom's fruit—could cause here. Or the Uo Uo no Mi, Kaido's fruit.
Okay, I admit it. I definitely did not give the Uo Uo no Mi to someone who could become a Kaido-like monster. Definitely not. And if I did, nobody needs to know. Yet.
I also created Sacred Gears based on chakra—control, meridian creation, the full network. Even one with Sharingan to boost humanity's potential.
Of course, it all depends on the user. I can hand out power, but if the person's incompetent, well… that's on them.
"Yuuki-kun!" a cheerful voice exploded in the kitchen like fireworks.
FWOOSH!
Lala popped out of nowhere, throwing herself at me with enough enthusiasm to nearly topple me from the chair. Before I could react, she was already hugging me, kissing my cheek, and talking a mile a minute.
"Yuuki-kun, Yuuki-kun! You won't believe what I invented today! It's a robot that—"
"Lala," I tried to cut in, but she wasn't stopping.
"—can make pancakes shaped like kittens! And it even meows when it's done! Miau~"
She made the kitty sound, all proud, and I couldn't help but laugh.
The kitchen was packed now. Mikan returned to the stove to finish breakfast. Asia sliced fruit with that delicate touch only she has. Cerys kept cleaning, pretending not to listen—but I caught the little smile tugging at her lips.
Haruna had arrived at some point—probably slipped in through the front door I always forget to lock—and was already sipping coffee, perfectly poised.
And of course, Irina and Xenovia sat at the table with looks like they'd just realized they'd been scammed.
"You two still upset?" I asked, trying not to laugh.
"Rito-san," Irina began, with that serious face she only makes when she's really mad, "we spent all our money on a fake painting of the Last Supper!"
"Totally fake," Xenovia agreed, bitter. "The seller swore it was original."
"And you believed him?" I couldn't resist.
Both of them shot daggers at me with their eyes.
"Okay, okay, sorry," I raised my hands in surrender. "I'll make it up to you. Promise."
"Yuuki-kun," Lala tugged my sleeve, eyes sparkling, "are you listening?"
Oops.
I'd drifted off again. Lala had said something important and I'd zoned out.
"Uh…" I smiled sheepishly. "I might've gotten lost in my thoughts. Mind repeating that, please?"
She pouted, but repeated anyway:
"Irina just said a letter arrived for you! From the Vatican! And this time we're all going together! Yay!"
THUMP.
My heart skipped a beat. All together? That meant…
"I see," I murmured, looking at the table.
There it was. A letter with the Vatican's official seal stamped on the cover. Red wax, heavy paper. The kind you can't ignore.
CRACK.
I broke the seal and opened it. Michael's elegant handwriting filled the page:
Rito,
I know you prefer to delegate (and thank you for that), but this time your presence is non-negotiable. The meeting in the Underworld will be critical for the future of all factions.
Since you haven't visited much lately, Gabriel insisted on accompanying you personally. She is… excited.
Do not disappoint her.
— Michael
Ah, crap.
Gabriel. The most beautiful angel in Heaven. The one whose smile melts even demons. And she was coming with me.
Good or bad? Still undecided.
I looked around the kitchen. All the girls were watching me expectantly.
Lala, Mikan, Asia, Haruna, Cerys, Irina, Xenovia…
Technically, I'd turned all of them into angels with power on par with Archangels. Sure, I could make them Super Angels—my golden-winged kids—but I figured it was better to let them train up and reach that level on their own.
If they wanted to, of course.
"All right," I said at last, folding the letter. "I'll go. And I'll take you all with me."
YAAAAY!
Lala bounced like she'd just won the lottery.
"But—" I raised a finger, serious "—it might be fun, but we need to take the meeting seriously. It's a faction summit that could turn into a war real quick."
"Leave it to me, Rito!" Lala beamed, far too innocent. "I'll make lots of robots to entertain everyone and keep them happy!"
SHIVER.
A chill ran down my spine.
Lala's robots. At a political summit. With leaders from every faction.
What could go wrong?
Everything. Literally everything.
"Lala," I began, choosing my words carefully, "maybe… just maybe… you shouldn't bring robots to this meeting?"
"Why?" she tilted her head, confused.
"Because…" I searched for an excuse, "because it might be dangerous for the robots. You know, with so much supernatural energy concentrated in one place."
"Aaah!" She clapped, completely misunderstanding. "Then I'll make armored robots! Perfect!"
"That's not what—"
BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!
The oven timer went off. Asia dashed to pull the bread before it burned.
Mikan poured coffee. Haruna ate quietly. Irina and Xenovia plotted revenge on the con artist who fooled them.
And me? I sat there holding that letter, thinking about how absurdly complicated my life had become.
But honestly?
I looked around. The girls laughing, chatting, living.
I wouldn't trade it for anything.
"Rito," Lala whispered, leaning close, "it's going to be okay. I promise."
I smiled, pulling her in.
"I know."
And in a way, I really did.
Because no matter what happens at that meeting—war, politics, chaos—I've got my family here.
And that's all that matters.
CLINK.
The cups touched in a silent toast.
To the chaos ahead.
And to the family that would face it together.