Kazuki awoke to the soft glow of morning light filtering through his curtains. For a moment, he lay still, letting the haze of half-remembered dreams fade. A gentle breeze carried the chirping of birds into his room, mingling with the distant sound of cicadas—nature's own lullaby bridging night and dawn.
He blinked, trying to place the surreal sense of excitement fluttering in his chest. Then it all rushed back: the festival lights, the swirling goldfish in a plastic bag, the warm hush of an alleyway, and the moment Rias's pinky had curled around his beneath a sky of bursting fireworks.
A lazy grin spread across his face. He and Rias Gremory had pulled it off. They had snuck out without being caught, and she'd experienced her first real taste of freedom. As far as nights went, this had been the most exhilarating of his young life.
Yet a nagging worry twisted in his stomach. We might've gotten away with it once, he thought, but what if someone noticed? He recalled how they'd almost run into that black-suited man—one of Rias's father's attendants. A little too close for comfort.
Pushing off his covers, Kazuki hopped out of bed. He glanced at his reflection in the mirror, noticing a stray smudge of dirt still on his elbow—likely from hiding in that narrow alley. With a soft chuckle, he wiped it away. Evidence of last night's adventure, easily removed, but the memory lingered fiercely.
He rushed through his morning routine—washing his face, changing into comfortable clothes, and taking a quick peek outside his window. The sky was a vivid blue, the sun peeking over the garden hedges that circled the estate. Is Rias awake yet? The question popped into his mind unbidden.
Without waiting for a call to breakfast, Kazuki slipped out of his room and padded down the mansion's corridor, heading toward the guest wing. If Rias's parents were still around, he'd have to be subtle, but maybe he could catch her in the hallway.
As he neared the wing, he heard faint voices filtering through a partially open door. He recognized Rias's voice at once, sharper than usual, colored by what might have been frustration. Another voice—an older woman—responded in a measured tone. Her mother?
Kazuki slowed, ears straining. The words were too muffled to make out completely, but he could sense tension: Rias's mother's voice carried a note of gentle reprimand, while Rias's replies sounded defensive. An uneasy pang settled in Kazuki's chest.
Did they find out? He stepped closer, then froze as footsteps approached from behind.
"Good morning, young master," came a polite voice—one of the family's butlers. Kazuki whirled, swallowing his sudden panic.
"H-hello," he managed, pasting on a polite smile. "I was just… seeing if Rias was awake."
The butler bowed with a neutral expression. "Miss Gremory is currently occupied with her mother. Perhaps they will join you for breakfast later."
Kazuki forced a nod. "Of course. Th-thank you."
He turned on his heel, heart racing. Rias might be in trouble, he thought with dread. But if the butler had only responded politely, maybe no one was absolutely sure about last night. Or they hadn't singled him out yet.
Either way, he decided to act normal. Getting cornered in the hallway wouldn't help either of them. He would wait, watch, and hope for a chance to talk to Rias directly.
When Kazuki reached the dining room, he found his parents already seated at the polished wooden table—large enough for a small banquet yet typically only occupied by three or four people.
His mother smiled warmly. "Morning, Kazuki. You're up early."
"Morning," he replied, sliding into a chair. A pot of tea sat in the center, alongside plates of fresh bread, jam, and fruit. Despite the alluring aroma of breakfast, his appetite felt subdued under the weight of his worries.
He looked around. No sign of Rias or her family. Usually, Rias's parents joined them for at least a morning meal, given they were guests. The absence felt… loud.
His father cleared his throat. "We heard the Gremorys are having some important discussion this morning," he said casually, as if reading Kazuki's mind. "They might be leaving sooner than planned."
Kazuki's stomach sank. "Leaving? So soon?"
His mother nodded. "Yes, apparently Rias's father received word about urgent matters they must attend to." She paused, noticing Kazuki's crestfallen expression. "You'll have time to say your goodbyes, I'm sure."
He forced a smile, fiddling with a piece of bread. "Right."
But inside, a storm brewed. If they're leaving so soon, does that mean last night was all the chance Rias had to see normal life? The thought weighed heavily. He wanted her to have more time, more memories—more freedom.
He chewed his bread without tasting it, mind wandering. Maybe Rias was okay with it, or maybe she was fighting to stay. He suspected the latter. She had that rebellious spark in her eyes, the same one that shone every time she found something new and thrilling in this world.
Before he could dwell too long, the butler from earlier entered with a polite bow. "Apologies, sir and madam. Master Gremory requests a private conversation with you in the sitting room regarding travel arrangements."
Kazuki's parents exchanged glances. His father rose, taking the last sip of his tea. "Of course. We'll be there shortly."
Kazuki's pulse ticked up. They're finalizing the departure. If Rias's father was calling these talks, that likely meant Rias's short stay here was all but over.
"Can I, um, be excused?" he asked quietly. His mother gave him a gentle nod, concern flickering in her eyes.
Kazuki left the dining room, intent on heading to the garden, or somewhere quiet enough to think. He had to find a way to speak to Rias—even if it was just to say farewell properly.
Stepping outside, Kazuki found the garden bathed in soft morning light. Pearls of dew clung to the rose petals, glinting like tiny jewels. He inhaled the fresh scent of damp earth, letting it ground him.
This was where he'd first seen Rias, perched by the pond's edge, mysterious and poised. So much had happened in just a couple of days—two strangers from different worlds forging a bond over starlit festivals and a shared longing for freedom.
And now, possibly, it was ending.
He noticed a slender figure near the old oak tree—the same tree they had climbed in the twilight. Initially, he hoped it was Rias, but as he moved closer, he realized it was her mother: Lady Gremory.
She stood with perfect posture, light brown hair pinned up elegantly, wearing a formal black dress trimmed with subtle, intricate patterns. Despite the warmth of the sun, there was an air of cool composure around her.
Kazuki hesitated. Approaching Rias's mother without Rias present felt daunting, especially if they suspected anything about last night. But she saw him before he could slip away.
"Good morning," she said, voice poised and calm.
Kazuki bowed his head lightly. "Good morning… Lady Gremory. Um… Sorry to disturb you."
She regarded him, her gaze quietly assessing. "No disturbance," she replied. Her eyes flicked to the oak tree, then back to him. "I was just admiring the garden. It's quite lovely. Rias told me she found it… peaceful here."
Kazuki felt a small relief. "She… likes it?"
A faint smile curled Lady Gremory's lips. "She does." A pause. "She's a curious girl, my Rias. Often too curious for her own good."
Something in her tone suggested more than idle observation. Kazuki swallowed. "She's… been nice," he offered, carefully neutral. "I, uh, hope she enjoyed her stay."
Lady Gremory nodded slowly. "Yes, though we had… concerns that she might be wandering around without permission last night." She kept her gaze on the tree, as if reading the etched bark. "Strange how children can vanish and reappear, don't you think?"
Kazuki's heart thundered. "I—I guess so."
She turned to him fully, eyes neither cold nor warm, simply penetrating. "Rias denies any wrongdoing, says she was reading in her room. But I've known my daughter all her life. She's a free spirit."
He clenched his fists, unsure how to respond. Could she see the guilt painted on his face?
A faint sigh escaped Lady Gremory's lips. She looked away, letting the sunlight catch the subtle brown highlights in her hair. "Kazuki," she said softly, as if tasting his name. "I trust she found a friend in you. If so, you might have shown her… certain experiences."
He froze, stunned that she was so direct. "I… didn't want her to be bored here," he managed. "I— She seemed lonely."
Lady Gremory's expression flickered. "Yes… Rias is lonely more often than she'll admit." She studied him a moment longer, then gently placed a hand on his shoulder—startling him with the warmth in her touch. "I'm grateful, in a way, that she found someone who treated her kindly. But please remember: Rias has… obligations. Our world expects much of her. Letting her stray too far can cause complications."
Kazuki swallowed. "I understand. I didn't mean any harm."
A ghost of a smile crossed her lips. "I believe you." Then, stepping back, she said, "We'll likely depart tomorrow morning. My husband is finalizing details with your parents." Her tone softened. "Take the time to say farewell. I believe Rias is in her room if you wish to find her."
With that, Lady Gremory inclined her head gracefully and walked away, leaving Kazuki feeling as though he'd narrowly passed a test he hadn't realized he was taking.
Tomorrow morning. That gave him only the rest of today to talk with Rias, to confirm everything unsaid. Kazuki rushed inside, hoping the corridor leading to Rias's room was free of butlers or attendants.
He found her door half-open, the soft glow of midday sun revealing a tastefully furnished guest room. Rias sat at the edge of the bed, silver fish in a small glass bowl on the nightstand—the prize from last night's goldfish escapade. She stared at it, chin resting on her hands, pensive.
Kazuki knocked gently on the doorframe. "Hey."
She looked up, relief flashing in her eyes. "Kazuki."
Stepping inside, he offered a timid smile. "Mind if I come in?"
She motioned him over, shifting so he could sit beside her on the edge of the bed. For a moment, neither spoke. He noted the faint circles under her eyes—she looked tired. Maybe she'd had a scolding from her parents after all.
He forced a casual tone. "How's your fish?"
That drew a small huff of amusement from her. "He's alive, at least." She toyed with the bowl's rim. "I named him 'Sora.' Is that silly?"
"No. I like it. Why 'Sora'?"
Rias shrugged, glancing at the bright window. "It means 'sky,' right? Maybe because he's stuck in water but still free in spirit." Her voice grew quiet. "Kinda like me."
Kazuki's chest ached at the sadness in her words. "Your mom said you're leaving tomorrow?"
She nodded, looking away. "So soon. My father apparently has urgent business, and it's not up for debate." A bitter note tinged her voice. "He was angry this morning. I think he suspects I… stepped out last night. I denied it, of course. He can't prove it." Her lips quirked in an almost-defiant grin.
Kazuki exhaled. "I'm sorry."
A pause. Then she turned to him. "It's not your fault. I wanted to see it all… the festival, the lights, the fireworks." She fiddled with her lace glove. "And I did. Thanks to you."
His heart swelled at the gratitude, but it was tinged with sadness. "I wish I could show you more."
She looked at him, something vulnerable in her gaze. "Me too. But I'm used to this. My life… isn't really mine. Not yet, anyway."
Silence stretched between them. He thought of the fireworks, of the fleeting excitement in her eyes. "You promised you'd come back," he reminded her gently.
A soft laugh escaped her. "I said maybe." She bit her lip. "But yes. I want to. Someday, I want to return—see more festivals, climb more trees, maybe… I don't know, do normal things with you."
Warmth washed over him. "I'll wait."
Rias gave him a tender smile, then set her gloved hand on top of his. "You're… different from everyone I've met. You don't treat me like some… fancy statue. You treat me like a person."
Kazuki's cheeks heated. He swallowed the surge of emotions. "Because you are a person, Rias."
Her eyes shimmered momentarily, as though no one had ever said those words so plainly. Then, as if embarrassed, she cleared her throat and glanced back at the goldfish. "I'll have to release Sora before we go, or maybe see if you can keep him. My father won't let me bring it along."
He nodded, understanding the meaning behind that small act: She can't bring home even this little piece of freedom.
They sat in silence, hands still touching. It was a quiet bond, heavy with unsaid words—of how they'd changed each other's short time together, of how they might not see each other for a long while, of how uncertain life could be.
Finally, Rias rose, smoothing her dress. "I need to pack, apparently. But… meet me after dinner? In the library, maybe. One last chat?"
Kazuki's eyes lit up. "Yeah. Of course."
Afternoon slipped by in a blur. Kazuki wandered the house restlessly, scrounging for distractions—reading a worn comic, helping the maid in the kitchen, even stepping out to the garden. But his thoughts kept drifting back to Rias. This was their final day.
He glimpsed her father once in the hallway, a tall, imposing figure with the same crimson hair as Rias, though streaked with deeper, older shades. The man's stern gaze locked on Kazuki for a moment, making him freeze. Rias's father simply gave a curt nod and continued on, leaving a faint chill in the air.
That evening, dinner was a tense affair. Rias's parents were polite to Kazuki's, but there was a sense of impatience swirling around them—like they were already half out the door. Rias barely spoke, responding in short, respectful answers. Her gaze flicked to Kazuki occasionally, sending silent messages he wasn't sure how to interpret.
The second the meal ended, Rias excused herself, and Kazuki did the same. He hurried to the library—an old room lined with leather-bound books and a single stained-glass window facing the orchard.
He found her by the tall window, moonlight filtering through the colored glass and painting her in hues of purple and green. It gave her an otherworldly air, as though she belonged to a realm of magical illusions.
She turned at his approach, managing a small, sincere smile. "You came."
"Of course," he said softly. "I wouldn't miss this."
She gestured for him to join her near the window. Outside, the moon hung low and bright, illuminating a quiet orchard. For a moment, they stood side by side, letting the hush of the library wrap around them.
"So… tomorrow," Kazuki began, voice catching. "You're leaving in the morning?"
Rias nodded. "Father insists. Apparently, some urgent matter in the Underwo—" She caught herself, cheeks pinking. "I mean, back home."
He swallowed. "Can you at least write letters?"
She exhaled, shoulders sagging. "It might be difficult, but… maybe. I'll do my best to keep in touch." Then she turned fully to him, eyes unusually bright. "Kazuki, can I… ask you something?"
He nodded. "Anything."
She hesitated, then mustered her courage. "If… if I come back someday, will you show me more? Not just a festival, but everything. Normal life. All the silly things I never got to do." Her voice trembled with a raw earnestness.
Kazuki's heart clenched at how fragile she sounded. "I promise," he said. "I'll show you everything. We'll climb more trees, visit more festivals, watch fireworks… and, I don't know, maybe just hang out, do homework, normal stuff."
That earned him a soft laugh. "Homework? That's your big plan?"
He shrugged, smiling. "Hey, if we do it together, it might be fun."
Silence enveloped them again, thick with unspoken emotions. Kazuki wasn't sure what to say next—goodbye felt too final.
Rias took a step closer. She lifted her gloved hand and gently brushed a stray lock of his hair away from his forehead. Kazuki's breath hitched, his cheeks burning.
Then, in a voice barely above a whisper, she said, "Thank you. For everything."
He swallowed hard. "Rias—"
She pressed a finger to his lips, shaking her head. No words needed. Instead, she leaned in, resting her forehead lightly against his. They stayed like that for a brief moment—two kids on the brink of worlds they hardly understood, bound by a promise of something bigger than either of them could imagine.
Finally, she stepped back, eyes shining. "I'll see you in the morning," she said softly, "before we go."