Kenji leaned back in the plush chair, his eyes fixed on the ceiling. The house was quiet now that the uninvited guest had left. The earlier tension still lingered in the air, though, from how much Kenji was pissed.
He could still feel his own bloodlust buzzing under his skin. He really was about to remove that woman's head. 'Tsk, that hag. calling his kids product'.
A soft cough broke the silence.
Kenji turned his head and saw Anastasia standing in the doorway. She was holding out a steaming ceramic cup, the scent of chamomile and honey wafting through the room. "Here," she said softly.
He took it, the warmth seeping into his palms and grounding him. "Thanks."
She sat down beside him, their shoulders touching. For a long while, neither spoke. The rhythmic ticking of the wall clock felt unusually loud. Kenji finally let out a long, weary sigh that seemed to rattle his very frame.
"Sorry about that," he murmured, his voice rough.
Anastasia looked at him, her blue eyes soft but searching. She reached out, her fingers brushing against his hand, the same hand that had nearly crushed her mother's skull minutes prior.
"I didn't mean to scare you or the kids," Kenji continued, his voice tight with lingering guilt. He thought of Aoi's wide eyes and the way Ayaka had gripped the doorframe. "Your family just seems to know exactly how to..."
"Get under your skin?" she finished for him with a faint, tired smile.
Kenji gave a short, dry chuckle. "Yeah." Really, he had only met them like four times in his life, but they just...urg.
She took a sip of her tea and leaned her head back against the chair, closing her eyes. "Trust me, I know exactly how you feel. They have a certain... talent for making you feel like a guest in your own life."
Her eyes drifted toward the window, watching the moonlight filter through the trees in their quiet neighborhood. "They never change. Always butting into business they have no right, always convinced that their way is the only way because they are always right."
She let out a frustrated breath, her fingers tightening around her cup. "You think this was them being annoying? Imagine growing up in that house. Every day was a cold comparison. 'Why can't you be like Mikhail? Why can't you be as sharp as Katerina? Why are you wasting time on lesser people when you should be practicing your rehearsals?'"
Kenji stayed silent, letting her voice fill the space. He had always known her family was cold and that she had issues with them, but she always never talked about them, preferring to sidestep them when they talked.
"I can't even remember what we argued about half the time," she continued, her voice dropping an octave. "Just that the older I got, the more they treated my existence like a failed investment. By high school, I realized I'd never be the daughter they wanted because I actually wanted a soul of my own, wanted to live for myself rather than just following everything they say. Then I met you."
Kenji looked at her as she smiled at him before continuing.
"And things got worse," she said, a small, genuine smile finally breaking through. "They absolutely hated you. The 'peasant' who was corrupting their precious, if disappointing, asset. They thought you were a phase. A way to act out."
"Hey," Kenji said with mock defensiveness, trying to lighten the mood. "I'm a very charming peasant. I have a 10 in Charisma on a bad day."
Anastasia rolled her eyes, the familiar spark returning to her gaze. "Sure you do. After one particularly heated argument, I just walked out. I built my own business, my own life, just to prove I didn't need them to survive. I wanted to show them that a 'disappointment' could build something without them."
"And you did. " You showed them," Kenji said to her, "and now you have the kids and me, you have all this".
Her expression softened as she looked around the cozy, slightly cluttered living room. It was a far cry from the cold marble of the Volkov estate. "And now I have this. A loving family. A real home. It's the most successful thing I've ever built, even if we had a rocky past," she said, making his face twitch. She rested her hand on his, making him soften.
Her face darkened again, her jaw clenching. "And now they appear on my doorstep pretending the last decade was just a misunderstanding. And my mother... calling my children 'products'..."
Her eyes flicked toward Kenji, shimmering with a cold fire. "That made me angrier than anything else. But it seems you beat me to the punch. You nearly tore the house down."
Kenji rubbed the back of his neck, looking slightly sheepish. "Yeah... I might have overreacted. I forgot for a second that you and the kids were here."
She snorted, a genuine laugh finally escaping. "Oh, I'm sure we noticed?"
He sighed, the guilt about scaring the kids still visible in the slump of his shoulders. Anastasia studied him for a moment. She knew she had to snap him out of the self-loathing.
She leaned closer, nudging him hard with her shoulder. "Hey."
Kenji looked at her.
She puffed out her cheeks and crossed her arms in an exaggerated, childish pout. "I can't believe you gave me a Rattata."
Kenji blinked. For a second, he looked completely lost with the sudden change of topic. He searched his memory for what she was talking about. Then, the realization hit him. His eyes widened.
"Oh my god," he whispered. He burst out laughing, the tension finally snapping. "I forgot about that! The prank!"
Anastasia punched his shoulder. "You jerk! I finally decide to check the familiar 'Pokémon' thing after seeing the kids do it, and you give me a glorified purple rat! "
"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" Kenji gasped through his laughter, wiping a tear from his eye. "When I gave it to you, I was just trying to prank you, but you never complained."
"Hn," she huffed as she turned away from him, pouting.
Kenji pulled her into a sudden, warm hug, burying his face in her hair. The smell of her shampoo, feeling his nose, "Okay, okay! It was a joke from months ago! I was waiting for you to say something, but when you didn't, it slipped my mind. Here... give it back. I'll fix it."
She walked over to a drawer, pulled out the Pokéball, and handed it to him with a suspicious, narrowed glare. Kenji returned it to his inventory before he pulled out another Pokéball and gave it to her.
She eyed it warily. "If a Pidgey comes out of this, Kenji, you're sleeping on the couch for a month."
"I promise, no trolls. This one is special," he said, grinning. "I'm sure you'd like it".
She pressed the button. A flash of brilliant white light erupted on the rug, illuminating the room.
"Bulbaaa!"
A small, sturdy green Pokémon with a large seed-bulb on its back appeared, blinking up at them with large, innocent red eyes. It gave a happy little hop. Anastasia gasped, her pout vanishing instantly.
"A Bulbasaur!" She immediately dropped to her knees, scooping the creature into a hug. "It's so cute!"
The Bulbasaur squeaked in surprise, its vines wiggling happily to pat her arms. She shot Kenji a smug, triumphant look. "This is much better. He's my new favorite person in this house."
Kenji leaned over and kissed her cheek. "Happy now?"
"Very. Now go apologize to the kids. They're probably still convinced you're a secret final boss."
Volkov Hotel Room
The atmosphere in the penthouse suite was suffocating. The Volkov family sat in a semi-circle, the younger siblings staying in the shadows while the "Inner Circle" debated.
Dmitri Volkov leaned forward, his hands clasped so tightly his knuckles were white. He hadn't touched his drink. "I knew he was strong from the rumors, but..." He trailed off, the memory of that golden gaze making his stomach churn.
When he had heard that his daughter's husband had defeated Kokabiel, he knew he was strong, but he didn't think the man had actually had the power to make the cadre fallen angel. It wasn't uncommon for a weaker being to kill someone stronger. But no, Kenji was far stronger than he had ever thought the man would be.
He had felt that power once before, that level of power. Long ago, as a young envoy, he had been granted an audience in the Great Hall of Valhalla. He had stood before the All-Father, Odin. The sensation of being an ant under a magnifying glass... of reality itself bowing to a superior will... it was the same.
Dmitri shook his head vigorously, trying to dispel the thought. No. Impossible. A human could never reach that level.
Humans lacked the capacity to even touch the borders of the Divine. Even the strongest humans in history could only ever make it to ultimate class, they had never been a human that had made it beyond that. So he was sure that he had felt wrong, because a human was in no way equal to a godking.
"What should we do, Father?" Irina spoke up, her voice quiet and weary. She sat beside her brother Victor, looking like she wanted to be anywhere else. Truthfully, she hadn't wanted to come to Japan.
Mikhail, the eldest, tapped his fingers on the table in a rapid, agitated rhythm. He was the one who had pushed for this among the siblings. He wanted Kenji. If a powerhouse of that caliber were brought to his side and "assimilated" into the Volkov line, Mikhail's claim as the next Patriarch would be indisputable.
He saw Kenji as a prize horse, or rather seen, right now, Irina knew he was trying to think of another plan because whatever he had before seemed to have been blown to pieces from the discovery of Kenji's strength.
"We can't let this just go like this? There has to be a way to bring him into the family besides Anastasia," Mikhail said.
"Mikhail is right," Katerina whispered, her eyes narrow and calculating. "If we can't control him, we must at least ensure he's still by our side. If we can bring him in... House Volkov would become the premier power in the Northern hemisphere."
"What about Anastasia?" Elizaveta asked, her voice sharp and brittle. She was still rubbing her neck where the pressure had been heaviest.
"What about her?" Dmitri snapped back, his frustration boiling over.
"Don't pretend you didn't sense it, Dmitri," Elizaveta hissed. "She has... grown. Without our guidance. even after...." she seemed to want to say something before she stopped.
Dmitri stayed silent, then nodded slowly. "She was always talented. The Valkyrie blood ran purest in her, much to our chagrin. But to reach Mid-Class on her own? It shouldn't be possible. Unless..."
The man stopped as if thinking about something. After that, the family...well, by family Irina meant the eldest and their parents discussed what they wanted to do.
Irina just looked at the floor, disgusted. They were already dissecting her sister's success like vultures. Sometimes, she envied Anastasia. At least her sister had the courage to walk away from the snake pit and find a man who would kill a god for her.
Kyoto – Hagoromo Faction Hideout
Amon believed himself to be a man of extraordinary, perhaps cosmic, luck. Unfortunately, it was usually the kind of luck that landed you in a gold-plated coffin.
When Tsuchigumo had captured him, Amon was certain his story ended there. He had envisioned a slow, painful death. But then the legendary spider-yokai had been slaughtered by Kenji Takahashi. Amon had escaped the chaos by the skin of his teeth, vowing to retire to a nice, mundane life.
Then Hagoromo Gitsune had been resurrected.
And for some reason, out of a crowd of thousands of powerful, terrifying yokai, the Great Fox had pointed a slender, pale finger at him. "YOU. Tell me what has been happening."
Amon wanted to cry. Every day. Why him?
Right now, he stood in a massive hall carved from dark stone. Hagoromo Gitsune sat upon a throne of shadows, her eight black tails swaying like cobras. The room was thick with the scent of blood, incense, and old magic. The resurrection had been flawed, the ritual had been done without all nine tails, and the great lady had not been happy about that. She was not happy to come back without her full powers.
Suddenly, a low-class yokai burst into the room, tripping over his own feet. "My Lady!"
Hagoromo's eyes looked down, narrowed as she looked at the yokai. "Speak. And it had better be worth the interruption."
"We have located the Ninth Tail!" the messenger gasped, bowing so low his forehead hit the stone. "It is in the heart of Kyoto. Our spies have confirmed... it is currently in the possession of the false Kitsune Queen, Yasaka."
Hagoromo slowly stood, her black kimono rustling like dead leaves. A beautiful smile stretched across her lips, revealing teeth that were just a little too sharp. "So... the 'Golden' fox of Kyoto dares to keep what belongs to me?"
She adjusted her sleeves, her power vibrating through the floorboards, making the shadows dance. "Prepare the march. We take what is ours."
In the back of the room, Amon felt his soul start to pack its bags. War. If he survived this, he was moving, running away where no one would find him.
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