HM & DF Chapter 7 New Meetings (Patreon)

The hidden town felt different in the morning light. The same dusty main street stretched between the old wooden buildings styled like a Wild West movie set with a saloon, general store, blacksmith, apothecary. Smoke curled from chimneys, spirit animals padded lazily through alleys, and distant laughter of children mixed with the creak of wagon wheels.

Asia walked slowly toward the infirmary, her fingers laced together in front of her chest. Her three cherubs floated around her in a loose orbit, Tia spinning excitedly, Ikaros drifting sleepily, and Luke scanning everything with the seriousness of a tiny blue guard captain.

The Sasquatch lumbered just behind her. He didn’t say anything, but every time someone stared too long at Asia, his golden eyes narrowed just enough to make them suddenly remember that they had to be somewhere else.

Selene, as always, walked with an easy, predatory grace at Asia’s side, her crimson dress swaying around her legs. She looked like she belonged in some high-end ball instead of a frontier town, but no one here questioned it.

Asia glanced back at them both and smiled nervously. “Thank you for coming with me again…”

Selene shrugged. “It’s our job to watch over you plus someone has to make sure you don’t collapse again, if someone needs healing.”

The Bigfoot rumbled something low and approving.

The saloon-turned-infirmary was busier than yesterday. The swinging doors were propped open, letting in light and fresh air. Asia could hear the voices inside full of chatter, laughter, and the occasional groan but most of it sounded… normal.

She stepped through the doorway causing the conversations to pause and heads turned.

For one tiny heartbeat, Asia felt them all, a hundred different eyes on her at once. Natives wrapped in bandages, beastmen with slings, spiritfolk resting with their animal companions at their feet.

Then, like a wave receding, the silence broke.

“It’s her…” 

“The healer girl…”

“The outsider that saved Hawthorn’s arm…”

A small blur of fur and excitement rushed her.

“Miss Asia!”

She barely had time to react before a beastman boy barreled into her legs, tail wagging, small claws clutching something.

Asia blinked, then knelt so she could meet his eyes properly. “Good morning,” She said, smiling softly. “You’re up and moving already. That’s wonderful. How are you feeling?”

The boy sucked in a deep breath—full, easy, no wheeze. “Look! I can breathe normal! It doesn’t hurt anymore!”

Luke chimed approvingly above Asia’s shoulder, wings flaring.

Asia’s heart melted. “I’m so glad,” she said. “That makes me very happy.”

The boy thrust something toward her with both hands, a little carved wooden figure on a thin leather strap. It was a bit lopsided and rough, but clearly meant to be a wolf.

“My dad made it,” He said earnestly. “He told me to give this to you. He said… we should thank you properly. ‘Cause now I can run with the other kids again.”

Asia took the carving as if it were made of glass. “It’s beautiful,” she whispered. “Thank you very much. I’ll take great care of it.”

She slipped the cord over her head; the wooden wolf bumped lightly against her cross.

That seemed to be the signal.

One by one, more people approached her.

A Native elder whose clouded eyes she had cleared the night before shuffled forward carefully, leaning on a carved staff. His wrinkled fingers trembled as he pressed a beaded bracelet into her hand, small stones and colored glass woven together with thin leather.

“These are for blessings,” he said softly. “You gave one to us when you healed me. Take this, girl. Let it watch over you in return.”

Asia bowed her head. “Thank you… I don’t know if I deserve it, but I’m honored.”

A witch with gray braids and dark circles under her eyes approached next, thrusting a small cloth pouch at her. “For headaches,” she muttered. “You’ll get them if you keep pouring that much power out of your soul. Steep it in hot water and drink it. Don’t argue.”

Asia stared at the pouch, then smiled gently. “I… I see. Thank you very much. I’ll make sure to use it.”

Near the back, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, was the gruff werewolf she’d healed—the one whose leg had never fully recovered until last night. His ears were tilted back, tail flicking, expression somewhere between annoyed and embarrassed.

He stomped over, almost begrudgingly, and dumped something into her hand: a simple ring of silver, slightly uneven, engraved with swirling lines.

“I made this,” he grunted. “Long time ago. First thing I tried to forge myself. Didn’t come out good enough to sell.” His gaze flicked away. “But… you fixed my leg. So. Take it. Otherwise it’s just gathering dust.”

Asia cupped the ring carefully between both palms. “It’s… very beautiful,” she said, honestly. “I’m honored you’d give it to me.”

He grumbled something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like “you’re welcome” and retreated hastily.

All the while, The Sasquatch stood just behind her, watching quietly. Selene leaned against a nearby pillar, arms crossed, an amused smile tugging at her lips as she watched people shuffle up one by one to awkwardly bless, gift, or mumble gratitude at the ex-nun.

And then, from the far corner of the room, someone stepped forward.

Asia noticed him right away as it was the young Native from yesterday that fought courageously with his Sacred Gear.

He was close to her age, maybe a little older, with long black hair tied back with a strip of leather and a feather braided in near his ear. His exposed forearms were wrapped in cloth marked with green patterns, and on his right arm rested a bracer carved with leaves and vines—a faint, sleeping glow pulsed inside it.

She remembered him clearly, the boy who had stood alone at the frontlines when the government attacked, protecting his comrades with the trees rising at his command, roots bursting from concrete, branches lashing at armored vehicles. His Sacred Gear… the power to command nature itself.

His gaze flickered nervously as he approached, clutching something in his fist. “H-hello,” he said, stopping a little too abruptly in front of her. “Good… morning.”

Asia smiled warmly. “Good morning. How is your body feeling?” she asked. “Any lingering pain?”

He shook his head quickly. “No. Thanks to you. I… I thought I was going to die out there. But you healed me back up.” He opened his hand.

In his palm lay a small, smooth stone, pale green, polished to a soft shine and wrapped with thin leather cord. Tiny leaf symbols had been carved carefully into its surface.

“This is a spirit stone,” he said, trying to sound calm and mostly failing. “We use them to ask for protection from the land. I infused this one myself, before—” He cut himself off briefly. “I’d like you to have it.”

Asia gasped softly. “A-are you sure?” she asked, looking between him and the stone. “This must be very precious to you…”

“It is,” he admitted, cheeks coloring. “That’s why I want you to have it.”

There was a quiet intensity in his eyes full of gratitude, admiration, and something warmer lurking beneath both. The room, full of watching Natives, beastfolk and witches, absolutely noticed.

Asia did not as she simply smiled, full of sincere innocence. “Thank you very much,” she said, bowing her head slightly. “I’ll keep it with me. It looks very special.”

She slipped the cord over her neck, letting the spirit stone rest next to the wooden wolf and her cross. It felt… right. Like pieces of different worlds sitting together peacefully.

The boy’s shoulders relaxed in visible relief. “If you ever need help,” he blurted, “with anything—training… carrying things… protecting you outside—I’ll come.”

“I appreciate it,” Asia said gently. “You’re very kind.”

Behind them, a witch elbowed a beastman and whispered, “He’s done for.”

“Absolutely smitten,” The beastman snorted quietly.

Selene smirked, red eyes glittering. “Young hearts,” she murmured.

Asia, meanwhile, had turned to check on the other beds, already worrying about bandage changes and lingering fevers.

‘Issei would be so happy to see them up and moving,’ She thought with a brief, lovestruck warmth. ‘I hope he’s doing well. I wonder what he’s doing right now…’

The image came to her easily of a boy with messy brown hair, a clumsy smile, warm hands reaching out to her. Her chest tightened with a soft ache. 

‘If only you were here too… I’d like to introduce you to everyone…’ Her stomach chose that moment to let out a loud, traitorous growl.

GUUUU…

Asia froze.

Tia and Ikaros jolted in mid-air. Luke turned slowly with the solemn horror of a cherub who had just heard his mother’s dignity become mortal.

A couple of beastman kids giggled nearby.

Asia’s face went pink. “Ah… e-excuse me… I—um…” She clutch her stomach, mortified. “I must be hungrier than I thought…”

A low chuckle drifted from the doorway. “Well, considering how you nearly worked yourself into the floorboards yesterday, I’m surprised you didn’t wake up starving,” Selene drawled.

Asia looked up as the vampire approached, red dress swaying, eyes bright with amusement. The Bigfoot, looming just behind Asia, gave a short grunt that might have been an agreement.

Selene tipped her head. “You’ve done enough checkups for now. Come on. The tavern’s open. Food first, then you can continue healing.”

Asia opened her mouth to protest. “But I still haven’t—”

Selene raised one finely arched brow. “If you collapse again, I’m not carrying you. He is.” She jerked her thumb lazily toward the hairy man. “And I’d rather not watch him panic a second time.”

The Sasquatch snorted indignantly, but didn’t deny it. The message was clear enough.

Asia turned back to her patients, bowing her head. “Thank you all for letting me see you,” she said gently. “Please rest well. If you feel unwell again, call for me and I’ll come as soon as I can.”

A chorus of voices answered from thank-yous, blessings, promises to listen to the healer instructions and not sneak out to “stretch their legs.” The nature Sacred Gear boy watched her go with silent, starry-eyed focus.

Asia smiled at them one last time, then stepped back outside with Selene and her hairy guardian flanking her like two very different, but strangely compatible bodyguards.

They walked together down the dusty street toward the tavern.

As they passed several townsfolk, Asia noticed something had changed.

There were still wary glances, still a few narrowed eyes, not everyone trusted her yet. But there were also nods now. Small smiles. Children waving. A beastman teen lifting his hand in a shy half-salute before looking away, ears red.

Asia’s heart warmed. It wasn’t much. But it was something.

After a few paces, another thought struck her, and she slowed, turning with sudden embarrassment to look up at Stoneback. “Um… excuse me…” she began, fiddling with the hem of her sleeve. “There’s something I realized I… I haven’t done yet, and it’s quite rude of me.”

The Bigfoot blinked down at her with Selene’s lips twitching. “Oh? What terrible breach of etiquette have you committed, little saint?”

Asia clasped her hands together. “You’ve helped me so much,” She said earnestly to her friend. “You carried me out of danger, brought me here, watched over me while I rested, and stayed at my side all day yesterday… but I… I don’t even know your name.” Her cheeks colored faintly. “I’m very sorry. I should have asked sooner.”

The big Sasquatch made a low, surprised sound. His ears flicked. He looked almost… bashful, for a mountain of fur and muscle.

Selene chuckled. “Hah. Of course they didn’t tell you,” she said, shaking her head. “The big oaf isn’t exactly chatty.” She dipped her chin toward him with casual familiarity. “His name is Stoneback.”

Asia repeated it softly, as if testing the shape of it on her tongue. “Stoneback…” It fit him. Solid. Dependable and strong.

She stopped walking and bowed deeply, hands folded in front of her, golden hair falling forward. “It’s very nice to meet you properly, Mister Stoneback,” she said formally. “My name is Asia Argento. Thank you so much for everything you’ve done for me.”

Stoneback stared at her, completely still. Then he rumbled a low, rolling sound, gentle and oddly warm. The vibration carried through the ground under her feet. He lifted one huge hand and gave a small, almost awkward wave in return.

Selene smirked. “That means ‘don’t mention it’ in his tongue” she said. “Possibly also ‘stop endangering your tiny body, fragile child.’ Hard to tell.”

Asia giggled softly. “I’ll try not to cause you more trouble,” she promised.

The three cherubs floated forward, lining up in front of her like an eager little parade.

Asia gestured to the blue one. “This is Luke,” she said. “He’s very serious. He tries to keep me from overworking… or at least scolds me when I do.”

“Piii,” Luke said sternly, crossing his tiny arms.

She pointed to the gold one. “This is Tia. She’s energetic and likes to play… sometimes too much.”

“Kii~!” Tia spun excitedly in a loop and nearly bumped into Stoneback’s chest.

“And this is Ikaros,” Asia finished, indicating the pink cherub. “She’s shy, but very sweet.”

Ikaros drifted closer to Stoneback, eyes wide, then made a tiny, nervous noise—“pii…”—and ducked back behind Asia’s hair, peeking out.

Stoneback watched them all, then gave another soft rumble that sounded like a chuckle. He extended one huge finger out very slowly. Tia immediately tried to perch on it, chirping triumphantly.

Selene watched this display, one hand on her hip. “You really are something else,” she murmured.

Asia smiled shyly. “I just… did what I could,” she said. “They needed help.”

“And you gave it,” Selene replied. “That’s more than most.”

—---------------------------------------

They reached the tavern, a big, sturdy building with swinging doors, a second-story balcony, and a weathered sign carved with a coyote’s head. Lanterns hung from the eaves, warm light and the smell of cooked food pouring from the open doorway.

Inside, the room was busy but not rowdy, just the hum of people trying to live.

A few werewolves occupied a corner table, talking quietly over steaming mugs. Natives spoke with shamans over maps and animal bones laid out on the table. A Wendigo hunched over a bowl of something steaming, cold mist frosting the rafters above him. A pair of witches argued about potion ingredients. Spirit animals—foxes, crows, a small elk made entirely of blue light—rested by their companions’ feet.

Selene gave the room a glance that screamed try something and see what happens, and led Asia toward a corner table by the window. Stoneback stationed himself just behind Asia’s chair, letting the wall support his shoulder as he stood guard.

A beastwoman with furred ears and a braided tail came over with a rag tucked into her belt. “What can I get you?” she asked, only a hint of shyness in her voice when she eyed Asia.

Asia almost flailed. “A-ah, anything simple is fine! Something not too expensive! I don’t want to be a burden—”

Selene cut in with a sigh. “She's hungry.” she said. “Bring her the stew, fresh bread, some fruit, and that sweet drink the kids are always begging for. If she tries to pay, I’ll bite her.”

The beastwoman snorted a laugh. “Got it, got it. One hero’s portion, coming up.”

Once she left, Asia folded her hands in her lap, looking around the tavern. Her gaze drifted from table to table, taking in faces, expressions, the way tension coiled beneath the surface even as they pretended everything was normal.

Snippets of conversation carried over the clatter of dishes.

“…they won’t let this go,” someone muttered. “USSARD doesn’t like losing.”

“Doesn’t matter how deep we hide,” another replied. “They always find an excuse. New scanners, new magic, new laws… always something that says we shouldn’t exist for long.”

“First it was the Church. Then the hunters. Now the government. Next it’ll be the corporations. All of them saying the same thing: ‘Obey or die.’”

Asia’s fingers tightened together.

A shaman spoke quietly at another table. “We were here before their borders. Before their laws. Before their cities. Yet we’re the ones driven under the ground, behind barriers, into hidden towns.”

A witch took a drink and set her mug down with a soft thud. “The moment you’re something they can’t control, you become a target. Monster, demon, anomaly—pick your poison.”

Asia’s throat tightened. Faces flashed in her mind—stern, grim, righteous. People who had called what she did a miracle as long as it was for them. People who turned on her the instant she gave that miracle to someone they called “evil.”

‘…am I really that different from the ones who hurt them? I wore the same clothes. Said the same prayers. Held the same book…’

The beastwoman returned with a tray—thick stew steaming in a clay bowl, a chunk of warm bread, a little plate of sliced fruit, and a small glass of amber-colored drink that smelled faintly of cinnamon and apple. Asia bowed her head in thanks, whispered a quick, silent prayer, and began to eat.

The first spoonful of stew almost made her eyes sting. It was simple full of meat, potatoes, vegetables but it was warm and filling in a way she hadn’t realized she desperately needed.

Her cherubs hovered close, happy to see her finally taking care of herself. Tia nudged her cheek, Ikaros hummed softly, and Luke settled on the table, watching the room like a tiny sergeant.

Around her, the conversations continued.

“There’s talk of them sending a bigger squad next time,” Someone said grimly. “Maybe mages, maybe more hunters.”

“They’ll say it’s ‘containment,’” Another voice replied bitterly. “Or ‘public safety.’ They always have such pretty words for hunting us.”

Asia lowered her spoon. Her eyes drifted down to her hands, then to the little wooden wolf, the spirit stone, the beaded bracelet resting over the sleeve of her green dress.

She clasped her fingers together around the wolf charm, holding it gently. ‘Lord…’ Her heart spoke the prayer before she could shape the words. ‘Please… let there be another way. Let this anger, this fear, this cycle of hate… find an end somehow. Please… don’t let this become another war where no one listens…’ She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. ‘I know I’m small. I know I can’t change everything. But… if there is a way for them to see each other as people, not enemies… please… guide me to it. I don’t want more bloodshed. Not from them. Not from anyone.’

The tavern hum went on.

Selene watched her from across the table, chin propped on her hand, expression unreadable. Stoneback rumbled faintly—a sound that somehow carried comfort more than threat.

Asia took a slow breath, opened her eyes, and picked up her spoon again.

—------------------------------------------------------

Hyoudou Residence, Kuoh

Issei almost broke the front door as he rushed in while kicking off his shoes mid-run, and bolted up to the second.

“I’m home!” He yelled, not slowing down as he barreled toward his room.

From the living room, Gorou peeked over the edge of the newspaper. “Welcome back—”

BANG.

Issei’s bedroom door shut so fast the frame rattled.

Gorou blinked. “…Was that an earthquake or our son?”

Miki poked her head out from the kitchen, apron already on, spatula in hand. “Judging from the sound of panic? Our son.”

Inside his room, Issei was moving at a speed that would’ve stunned his morning self.

“Okay, okay, think, hide the magazines, hide the figurines, hide anything that screams ‘I’m a hopeless pervert’, which is almost everything.”

He dove under his bed, grabbed the stash of magazines, and crammed them into the back of his closet, shoving a spare futon in front of it for good measure. From his desk, he scooped up a particularly bold poster of a buxom anime character, rolled it with frantic precision, and stuffed it into a drawer.

His eyes swept the room.

It still looked like his room: a little messy, a couple of tame posters, some manga, a figure or two he didn’t have the heart to hide. But at least nothing too revealing at first glance.

He heard footsteps approach down the hall.

“Issei?” Miki’s voice came from the other side of the door. “Are you okay? You came home like something was chasing you.”

“D-don’t come in!” he yelped.

The doorknob turned automatically with the door opening a crack and Miki stuck her head in anyway with her eyes full of suspicion. “If you say ‘don’t come in’ like that, I get worried, you know? You’re not hiding a bomb in here, are you?”

“Worse,” Gorou said, appearing behind her. “He’s probably hiding the magazines.”

Miki ignored her husband and scanned his room instead. “Hmm. Cleaner than usual…”

Issei shifted nervously. “Y-Yeah, well, uh… I wanted to… reorganize.”

Gorou squinted. “Reorganize? You? On a Sunday?”

Miki narrowed her eyes. “…What are you hiding?”

“Nothing!” Issei groaned. “Why does everyone think I only panic when I’m hiding something!?”

“Because you do,” They said in unison.

He grimaced, then exhaled, deciding to rip the bandage off before they started checking for smoke alarms. “Okay, fine, look, I’m… kinda… having someone over.”

Miki blinked. “Oh? A friend?”

Gorou’s eyes sparkled. “Is it Matsuda? Did you finally burn those magazines he keeps lending you?”

“No, it’s not Matsuda,” Issei groaned. “And he doesn’t lend them, we just—look, it’s not important.”

Miki tilted her head. “Then who?”

Issei stared at the floor, cheeks flushing. “…Melusine.”

Silence.

Miki’s brain took exactly one second to process the name. “Eh?”

Gorou’s eyebrows shot up. “Melusine… as in… the Melusine-san, that you went on a date yesterday?”

Issei nodded, scratching his cheek. “Y-Yeah. She, uh… wants to meet you guys.”

Miki’s spatula clattered against the doorframe as she slapped a hand over her mouth. “She—she wants to—Gorou!”

“I know, I heard!” Gorou said, looking both stunned and delighted. “Wait, wait. A girl is voluntarily coming to our house? Knowing you live here?”

“Can we not phrase it like that!?” Issei protested.

Miki’s eyes were already misty. “Our baby… bringing home a girl…” Then another thought hit. “Is she real?”

“Miki,” Gorou sighed.

“What!? I have to ask these questions!”

Issei waved frantically. “She’s real, okay!? She’s coming over in like an hour, I just—please, please, please don’t embarrass me!”

There was a beat.

Miki and Gorou then slowly turned to look at each other. Then, in perfect sync, they smiled. “No promises,” they said.

Issei almost cried. “Mom, Dad!”

Miki clapped him reassuringly on the shoulder. “Relax, relax. We’ll be nice.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” he muttered.

She laughed and stepped back. “If she’s coming over, then I need to cook something good.” She straightened, eyes blazing with maternal determination. “Gorou, go buy drinks. And maybe something sweet. Cake. Girls like cake, right?”

“I like cake,” Gorou said.

“That’s not what I asked.”

Issei sighed as they retreated, his heartbeat still fluttering like crazy. He shut his door gently and leaned back against it, exhaling. ‘It’s fine. She likes you. You survived a date. You can survive your parents. …I think.’ He glanced around his room again just to be sure nothing bad remained visible. ‘If they pull out the baby pictures, I’m jumping out the window.’

—-----------------------------------

An hour later, the Hyoudou apartment smelled like home: warm rice, grilled fish, miso soup, and something sweet baking quietly in the oven. Miki hummed as she laid out extra dishes. Gorou, now in casual pants and a clean shirt, arranged cans of tea and soda in the fridge.

Issei stood near the front door, tugging at his shirt for the tenth time.

His phone buzzed once.

Melusine: I am outside.

His heart jolted and the doorbell rang.

“Okay, okay, okay—don’t say anything weird,” He hissed over his shoulder. “Don’t ask her when we’re giving you grandkids, don’t tell her about the time I—”

“Go answer the door,” Miki said sweetly, already suspiciously close to the photo album shelf.

“I’m so dead,” Issei muttered, but he forced himself to move and opened the door.

Melusine stood there, framed by the afternoon light.

She wore a simple blouse and skirt in soft, muted colors, her silver hair tied back neatly with a ribbon, a white hat perched on her head. Even in normal clothes, she carried herself in a formal manner with her back straight, chin lifted, golden eyes calm and focused.

For a second, just looking at her, all his panic dipped into awe.

“Welcome, Melu,” He said, managing a smile. “You look… u-uh… you look great.”

Her gaze softened. “Good afternoon.”  she replied, voice warm but formal. “You look… presentable.” She glanced past him into the entryway. “May I come in?”

“Ah, yeah!” He quickly stepped aside, holding the door open wider. “C-come in, come in. Watch your step.”

Melusine slipped off her shoes with practiced grace, lining them up neatly beside the others without even thinking about it, placing them neatly by the door. Even this she did with precise, almost military care. He watched, oddly charmed.

Miki chose that moment to appear. “Welcome!” She called, bright and cheerful. “You must be Melusine-chan. I’m Hyoudou Miki, Issei’s mother. It’s so nice to finally meet you.”

Gorou gave an easy wave. “And I’m Hyoudou Gorou, the dad. Thanks for putting up with our idiot son.”

Melusine straightened instinctively, posture perfect, bowing just a bit deeper than necessary. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” She said, formal instinct kicking in. “Thank you very much for inviting me into your home. My name is Melusine du Lac. I will do my best to not cause you any trouble Hyoudou-san, Hyoudou-sama.”

Miki and Gorou traded a quick, impressed glance.

‘So polite… she’s adorable.’ Miki thought. “Oh no, no need to be so formal,” Miki said, flapping her hands.

‘She holds herself like a model or a noble.’ Gorou mused. “You can just call us Miki and Gorou. ‘Hyoudou-sama’ makes us sound too important.”

“Yes, yes,” Miki agreed. “We’re not anybody important, just humble parents of a very stupid boy.”

“Mooom,” Issei groaned.

Melusine’s lips twitched, just barely. “I… see,” she replied, slightly stiff but making an effort. “Then… Miki-san, Gorou-san. Thank you for having me.”

Her bow was perfect, formal and graceful. Her Japanese was clear but had that faintly careful cadence of someone who’d learned it as a second language and memorized proper phrasing.

Miki and Gorou exchanged a quick, approving look. ‘ Very Ladylike. Polite. Elegant. How did our son convince her to date him?’

“Come in, come in,” Miki said, ushering her inside. “Make yourself at home. Issei, take her bag. Don’t just stand there.”

“Y-Yeah!” He scrambled to help, trying not to look like an idiot.

They moved into the living room. It was small but cozy—low table, TV, a worn but well-kept couch, family photos on the wall. Sunlight streamed through the curtains, glinting off Melusine’s hair.

She took in the room quietly, eyes moving from the simple furniture to the framed pictures: Issei as a toddler covered in paint, a family shot at a summer festival, Gorou holding baby Issei upside down while Miki laughed.

Warmth seemed to linger in the air itself.

She’d never had a room like this. Never had walls that held memories instead of portraits of power and obligation. Something in her chest tightened. ‘So this is… a normal home…’

Miki clapped her hands together. “We’re so happy you came,” she said. “To be honest, when Issei said he had a girlfriend, I thought he’d been hit in the head.”

“Rude,” Issei muttered.

Gorou chuckled. “We’re very grateful,” he said lightly. “To think someone out there not only tolerates him, but actually likes him…”

“I do,” Melusine said without hesitation.

Issei nearly swallowed his tongue.

Gorou’s eyebrows rose. Miki’s smile softened.

Melusine noticed their looks and, realizing what she’d said so plainly, cleared her throat, a faint color rising to her cheeks. “He is… foolish at times,” she added carefully. “But… he is honest. And kind. It’s… refreshing.”

Miki’s heart melted on the spot. ‘She really does like him.’ “Well then,” Miki said, beaming. “Please, let’s go to the kitchen and sit down. Dinner’s almost ready.”

They quickly went to the kitchen and settled around the table. Melusine sat down and was seated formally at first, then adjusted slightly at Miki’s urging.

“You don’t have to be so stiff,” Miki chuckled. “Treat this like your own home, okay? We’re not that scary.”

“I am not scared,” Melusine replied automatically.

Issei snorted. “You’re more tense than yesterday.”

She shot him a sharp look. “This is different,” she muttered under her breath.

Gorou leaned in with a grin. “Oh? How so?”

Melusine paused, then answered truthfully. “I’m meeting his parents and I want to give a good impression.”

This caused Miki and Gorou to laugh.

“There’s no reason for that.” Gorou said. “We’re already incredibly grateful for you for even considering our son.”

As Miki started to bring out the dishes, she decided now was the time to casually gather intel. “So, Melusine-chan,” she called. “How long have you two been dating?”

Issei tensed. “Mom—”

Melusine considered for a moment. “Not very long, it was official yesterday.” She answered honestly. “But we have spent a considerable amount of time talking since the beginning of the school year.”

Miki’s ears perked. “Oh? About what?” she asked sweetly.

“Mom,” Issei hissed. “Stop interrogating her—”

Melusine tilted her head. “Mostly talking about school. Learning of our interests and hobbies.” Her golden eyes softened slightly as she glanced at him. “Getting to know each other. Properly.”

Miki smiled. “That’s good. That’s very good.” She then placed the dishes on the table from rice, grilled fish, simmered vegetables, tamagoyaki, and a small salad. “Here we are! It’s nothing special, but I hope you’ll enjoy it.”

“It looks wonderful,” Melusine said, bowing her head. “Thank you for the meal.”

They all clapped their hands together. “Itadakimasu.”

As they ate, the conversation flowed in gentle waves.

Gorou then decided to open with his favorite topic: teasing his son. “So, Melusine-san,” he began. “Where are you from originally? Your Japanese is good, but you’ve got an accent.”

Melusine swallowed politely before answering. “Ah… yes.” She straightened, folding her hands neatly in her lap. “I was raised in England. London, mostly. I moved to Japan for school and work a year ago.”

Miki tilted her head. “Work?”

“I… model,” Melusine said, her tone automatically shifting into something neutral, rehearsed. “For fashion brands, magazines, and… various campaigns.”

Gorou nodded slowly, impressed. “Sounds tough. But it also sounds like you’re very dependable.”

Issei watched her closely. He knew that tone, the one she used when she was talking about herself like a product, not a person. It always made something clench in his chest.

Gorou whistled. “Ohh, a model. It must be hard doing both.”

Miki then folded her hands lightly. “Do you live alone?”

Melusine’s gaze dipped for a moment. “I live… near my adopted mother,” she said. There was a faint distance in her tone. “We are… not as close as we once were.. She has very high expectations for me.”

Miki’s smile faded into something gentler. “Ah… I’m sorry.”

Melusine shook her head. “Please don’t be. It’s… complicated. She is very focused on appearances. On success. I was… useful, in that.”

Gorou frowned. “She used you like a trophy?”

Issei flinched. “Dad…”

But Melusine actually let out a tiny, almost surprised chuckle. “That is… one way to phrase it. She would call it ‘guiding my potential. She is an important woman with many people depending on her. I respect that.” Her fingers traced the edge of her cup. “But… there is a distance between us that I no longer know how to cross.”

For a moment, the table fell into a thoughtful silence.

Issei glanced at her, worried. “Mel—”

She shook her head just slightly, as if to say it’s fine. Then she lifted her gaze again, expression composed. “In any case,” she continued, “I have… not experienced a household like this before.”

Miki blinked. “Like this?”

Melusine’s eyes moved around the room again: the small decorations, the fridge covered in little magnets, the slightly crooked family photo on the wall. Her gaze rested on Gorou and Miki. “A normal home,” she said softly. “Parents who cook. Who fusses? Who teases. Who worries more about embarrassing their child than… using them.” There was a faint, wistful note in her voice.

Issei’s chest tightened.

Miki’s expression softened further. Gorou rubbed the back of his neck.

“Well,” he said, “we’re not perfect. I forget garbage day. She burns things sometimes. Issei leaves socks everywhere. But we do our best.”

Miki elbowed him lightly. “Don’t tell her of our failures”

Melusine’s lips curved faintly. “It’s… warm here,” she admitted. “I understand now… why Issei is the way he is.”

Gorou snorted. “Perverted, you mean?”

Melusine didn’t miss a beat. “Yes. But also kind,” she replied, straight-faced. “Loved. Annoying, but loved.”

Issei choked on his rice. “Can you not define me like that in front of my parents!?”

Miki laughed. “No, no, that’s perfect. ‘Annoying but loved’ is exactly right.”

Melusine watched them all quietly for a moment, the easy way they insulted and defended him in the same breath. The way Issei sulked and yet smiled, unable to hide how much he cherished them.

Halfway through the meal, Miki stood up with a suspiciously bright expression. “Ah, I almost forgot!”

Issei froze. His instincts screamed. “Don’t,” he whispered. “Don’t, don’t, don’t—”

Miki went to the shelf, pulled out a thick photo album, and returned with the heavy inevitability of destiny.

Gorou covered his mouth to hide his grin.

“Mooooom,” Issei dragged out. “Please.”

Miki sat down, placed the album on the table, and opened it with a flourish. “I thought we should show Melusine-chan what you were like as a child~”

“NO,” Issei said immediately, reaching futilely across the table.

She dodged him easily. “Look here,” she said cheerfully, turning the album toward Melusine.

The first page was a photo of toddler Issei on the floor, naked except for a tiny towel cape, holding a toy sword and grinning proudly.

Melusine blinked. “…Issei?” she asked, trying not to smile.

“I was three!” he yelped. “Context matters!”

Miki flipped the page. “Here he is trying to climb into the washer. He said he wanted to ‘visit the spin dimension.’”

“Stop telling that story!” Issei wailed, burying his face in his hands.

Gorou leaned closer, laughing. “This one’s good too—him crying because we wouldn’t let him marry a magical girl on TV.”

Melusine covered her mouth with her hand, shoulders shaking faintly. “I see… you have always been… earnest.”

“I was a kid!” he protested again, voice muffled.

Miki turned another page, eyes sparkling. “And here, this is when he tried to sneak one of his father’s magazines into school—”

“MOM.”

“And got caught because he tripped on his own shoelaces.”

Gorou clapped him on the back. “We were so proud. Not of the magazine, of course. Of his commitment.”

“I’m going to die,” Issei muttered. “This is how I die.”

Melusine looked at photo after photo—Issei covered in mud, Issei at school festivals, Issei with scraped knees and triumphant grins.

Slowly, her laughter faded into something softer. She closed the album gently when Miki paused to breathe. “Thank you for showing me,” she said sincerely. “These are… precious memories.”

Miki smiled warmly. “Thank you for thinking so. We embarrass him a lot, but…” She glanced at her son, eyes tender. “We’re proud of him. Even when he makes… questionable decisions.”

“‘Questionable,’ she says,” Issei muttered.

Gorou leaned back, folding his arms behind his head. “So, Melusine-san,” he said casually. “We don’t know much about your family… but if you ever need a place that feels like home, this door’s open, alright?”

Melusine’s eyes widened just slightly. For a brief moment, she didn’t know what to say. Then she bowed her head. “That is… very kind,” she said quietly. “I will remember it.”

She meant it.

As the evening went on, the conversation turned lighter again, talk of school, of daily life, of small things. Melusine talked a little more about where she “worked,” carefully skirting the supernatural edges, but enough to impress them with how hardworking she was.

Gorou admired her dedication. Miki admired her composure. Both, secretly, admired her for choosing their son.

By the time she stood at the door again, shoes on, sky outside painted in the colors of sunset, the air felt different.

Miki squeezed Melusine’s hands. “Thank you for coming,” she said. “And… thank you for caring about our idiot son.”

Gorou nodded. “He’s a handful. But he’s a good kid. Please… take care of him.”

Melusine glanced at Issei, then back at them. “I will,” she said simply. “As long as he will have me, I will stand by his side.”

Issei’s heart did a weird, flippy thing in his chest.

Miki’s eyes shimmered dangerously. “So straightforward… I like her.”

“M-Mom…”

Melusine stepped out into the evening air, turning back one last time. “Thank you for the meal. For your hospitality. And for…” She paused, choosing her words. “…showing me what a peaceful home looks like.”

Miki smiled softly. “Come back any time, Melusine-chan.”

Gorou waved. “We’ll keep the embarrassing stories stocked.”

“Please don’t,” Issei begged.

Melusine’s lips curved. “I would like that,” she said, ignoring Issei completely.

They watched her leave until she turned the corner.

Issei closed the door gently, leaning his forehead against it with a groan. “I’m never living down those baby pictures…”

Miki slipped an arm around his shoulders. “She likes you,” she said quietly.

He blinked. “…You think so?”

Gorou snorted. “If she didn’t, she’d have left by now.”

Issei laughed weakly.

Miki squeezed his shoulder. “So don’t mess it up, okay? Be honest with her. Be kind. And…” Her voice softened. “…don’t let her carry everything alone.”

Issei’s expression shifted, becoming more thoughtful. “…Yeah,” he said. “I won’t.”

As he walked back to his room that night, he thought of Melusine’s small, quiet smile as she looked at his family. The way her voice softened when she’d talked about not having a home like this.

Done. Tell me what you think and if I made any mistakes. Tell me what do you think should happen next? This story was commissioned by Dayfox, so do remember to thank him.