Crimson Echoes: The Rebellion of Gremory (Highschool dxd)

Even before the sun fully broke over the horizon, the atmosphere in the mansion felt charged—like the air just before a storm. Kazuki sat on the edge of his bed, half-dressed, heart pounding in his ears. He had barely slept; the memory of his final conversation with Rias in the library still clung to him, haunting his attempts at rest.

He glanced at the clock. 6:02 AM. The Gremory family was set to depart "early," though no one had told him the exact time. If he waited too long, he might miss her altogether.

With a shaky breath, he stood, pulling on a simple shirt and jeans. His reflection in the mirror revealed a tangle of unkempt hair and shadows under his eyes—proof of how little rest he'd had. But that didn't matter. He had to see Rias off. He refused to let her leave without a proper farewell.

Creak.

He opened his bedroom door to find the corridor in a subtle state of upheaval. He recognized one of the mansion's butlers bustling past, arms full of fresh linens. A pair of maids hurried in the opposite direction, whispering about "early guests." The hush was layered with tension, as though everyone was tiptoeing around the Gremory family's departure.

Kazuki swallowed, making his way toward the guest wing. The walls here were lined with paintings and vases—ornate decorations that seemed almost intimidating in the early morning hush. He paused outside Rias's door, only to find it slightly ajar. His heart fluttered.

Gently, he knocked. "Rias?" he whispered.

No reply.

He pushed the door open. The guest room stood mostly empty—the bed was neatly made, the curtains drawn to let in the pale morning light. A single glass bowl rested on the nightstand, water rippling inside, but there was no sign of the silver goldfish or Rias.

Kazuki's stomach clenched. She must be in the main hall or already on her way out. He dashed to the nightstand, peering into the bowl. Empty. She must have taken Sora somewhere—maybe let him go in the garden pond.

Panic rose in his chest. Did I miss her?

With a growl of frustration, he pivoted and sprinted for the front entrance of the mansion.

As Kazuki approached the grand foyer, the tall double doors stood open to the morning air. He slowed, catching sight of the Gremory family's attendants gathering suitcases and boxes, carting them into a sleek, dark car parked on the driveway. Sunlight bounced off the vehicle's polished surface, highlighting the swirl of dust that rose with each hurried footstep.

Rias's father, Lord Gremory, stood a short distance away, conversing with Kazuki's parents in low tones. Clad in a refined black suit, he radiated an imposing aura—someone used to having authority obeyed without question. His crimson hair, streaked with deeper maroon hues, caught the light in a way that reminded Kazuki uncomfortably of Rias.

Lady Gremory was farther off, speaking with the butler. She appeared calm and collected, her posture straight, though her eyes occasionally scanned the area as if double-checking every detail. Her light brown hair was pinned up elegantly, a few strands catching the morning light.

Kazuki swept the foyer, searching for that familiar flicker of vibrant red hair.

He found her.

At the edge of the driveway, near the garden's archway, Rias stood, arms folded across her chest, her face partially turned away from the bustle. Even from a distance, he could see the tension in her posture—the clench of her shoulders, the slight lowering of her head.

Relief flooded him. She hasn't left yet.

He took a step forward, then paused. He could feel the weight of Rias's father's presence behind him and the knowledge that the entire household had to be mindful of the Gremorys' morning schedule. But he didn't care. This was his chance to say goodbye.

Clutching his hands to steady himself, Kazuki moved toward her.

Rias didn't notice him at first. She was staring down at a small stone fountain in the garden—a simple structure where water trickled over smooth rocks. Her hair was pinned back loosely, a black ribbon holding part of it in a neat style. She wore a traveling outfit of sorts: a black dress layered with a light coat, more subdued than her usual lace ensemble.

Kazuki cleared his throat. "Rias," he said quietly.

She whirled, eyes widening, then softening. "Kazuki."

For a moment, neither spoke. All the unspoken tension from the past day hung in the air.

He saw a small plastic bag in her hand—Sora, the goldfish, safe in fresh water. So she hadn't released him yet. A pang of sadness hit him at the thought: She can't keep him, but she can't let him go either.

"You're really leaving now, huh?" Kazuki asked, his throat tight.

Rias lowered her gaze. "Yes. My father wants to depart as soon as possible."

He took a shaky breath, stepping closer so their voices wouldn't carry to the adults. "I—I just wanted to see you before… well, before you left."

Her eyes, so often alight with that fierce confidence, flickered with vulnerability. "You woke up early."

Kazuki managed a lopsided smile. "Barely slept," he admitted. "Too busy remembering last night."

A ghost of a grin tugged at her lips. "Same." She glanced around, as though ensuring no one hovered nearby. Then, leaning in, she whispered, "Thanks… again. Even if it was brief, it was—" Her voice caught. She cleared her throat. "It was special."

His cheeks warmed. She's as blunt as ever. He liked that about her.

They stood in silence, the distant chatter of servants and the hum of morning activity swirling around them. Kazuki's mind raced with a thousand things to say, yet none felt adequate. Finally, he looked at the fish bag in her hand. "So, you're taking Sora with you?"

Rias shook her head, a resigned smile crossing her face. "No. My father would never allow a… trivial keepsake. He's already annoyed I insisted on wearing this ribbon today." She held up the bag. "I was just going to release Sora in your garden's pond, where we first talked."

Kazuki's heart clenched. "I see."

"Or," she added in a hurried whisper, "maybe you could keep him? If that's okay. I don't want him to get lost or eaten by something in the pond."

He blinked, then nodded vigorously. "Yeah, I can do that. I'll look after him."

Relief softened Rias's expression. "Thank you. It's silly, but it means a lot to me." Gingerly, she handed over the plastic bag. Their fingers brushed, sending a small spark down Kazuki's spine.

Just then, Lord Gremory stepped away from Kazuki's parents and turned in their direction. His gaze locked onto Rias and Kazuki. In the bright morning light, his eyes seemed to gleam with a keen intelligence, or perhaps suspicion. Kazuki couldn't help but straighten his posture.

"Rias," he called, voice resonant. "We're leaving in five minutes. Is everything prepared?"

She stiffened slightly, then turned. "Yes, Father."

Lord Gremory's gaze flicked to Kazuki. The tension was palpable. For a breath, Kazuki worried the man might scold him, or reveal knowledge of their nighttime escapade. But instead, Rias's father inclined his head, almost politely.

"I trust you have enjoyed my daughter's company," he said in a neutral tone.

Kazuki swallowed. "Y-yes, sir. She's… been wonderful."

Lord Gremory's lips tightened in what might have been the ghost of a smile. "Good." He gestured toward the car, where an attendant was already holding a door open. "Rias, come along."

Rias flicked a glance at Kazuki, her eyes filled with regret, then nodded. She walked toward her father, footsteps measured, back straight—a perfect imitation of noble composure. Kazuki stayed rooted, the bag with Sora clutched to his chest.

Kazuki watched Rias's mother approach them from the opposite side. Lady Gremory gave Kazuki a soft, knowing nod before joining her husband. They stood together, forming an imposing but graceful pair.

Rias paused at the car door, her father and mother momentarily occupied by the driver's questions. Taking advantage of that moment, she turned back to Kazuki. Emotion flickered across her face—longing, frustration, and something deeper.

He rushed to close the distance between them, stopping just a foot away. No words came to mind, only the pressure of time slipping away.

She offered her hand, palm up. "We probably won't see each other for a while."

Kazuki set the fish bag down beside them, carefully, and clasped her hand. "But we will see each other again," he whispered, recalling their promise.

"Yes," she whispered back. "We will."

The morning air felt thick with unspoken confessions. Kazuki wanted to say more—about how he'd never forget her, about how she changed his life in just a few days. But that felt too big to put into words. Instead, he gently squeezed her fingers.

She squeezed back. Then, with a trembling sigh, she withdrew, stepping into the car. The door closed behind her, muffling her from his world.

Kazuki stood there, breath caught in his throat. Through the tinted window, he could just make out Rias's silhouette. Her head turned, and for an instant, their gazes locked. Then the driver slid into the front seat, and the engine purred to life.

Lord and Lady Gremory exchanged final polite words with Kazuki's parents—who had come forward to wave goodbye—before climbing into the car themselves. The door shut with a decisive click.

The car rolled forward, gliding down the driveway. Gravel crunched beneath the tires. A trail of dust rose in its wake, stirred by the warm breeze. Kazuki found his feet rooted to the spot, eyes following the vehicle as it disappeared past the ornate gates.

Just like that, Rias was gone.

A profound emptiness spread in his chest. He swallowed, aware of how abruptly their connection had been severed. He felt a gentle hand on his shoulder—his mother, standing beside him.

"You okay?" she asked softly.

He shook himself from the stupor, forcing a nod. "I… guess so."

She offered a comforting pat. "They said Rias might visit again someday. You made a good friend, Kazuki."

Friend. That word felt too small for what he'd experienced. But he mustered a slight smile and nodded again. "Yeah."

As the car vanished, the last echo of Rias's presence faded. The hush of the garden seemed louder than ever, the morning sun harsh in its brightness. Kazuki reached down, lifting the plastic bag that held Sora—the tangible proof that everything hadn't just been a dream.

Tucking the bag safely in his arms, he turned away from the gate, an odd mixture of hope and melancholy in his heart.

Later that morning, the mansion's hustle diminished. With the Gremory family gone, it was just another day—chores, small tasks, polite conversation. But Kazuki felt changed, as though a switch had flipped in his life.

He retreated to his room, placing Sora into a larger glass bowl with care. The silver fish darted around, unaware of the significance it carried. Kazuki tapped the glass gently, mind drifting to Rias's final expression.

He recalled her words: We will see each other again. She had said it with such conviction. A flicker of warmth sparked within him at the memory. Despite the sadness, there was promise in that vow.

Stretching out on his bed, Kazuki closed his eyes, exhaustion from the near-sleepless night catching up to him. Images of the festival, the fireworks, the library farewell, and Rias's fleeting smile melded into a swirl of memory. He wondered about her world—this place that demanded so much from her, that forced her to be so guarded.

She's not like anyone else I've met. That much was certain. Part of him suspected that Rias's family's "obligations" were more than just business or wealth. Something deeper lurked in her short remarks about traditions and rules.

But all that lay beyond his reach for now. The best he could do was hold onto the memories they shared, treasure each moment, and hope for the day she'd come back.

Sleep pulled at him. He let out a long breath, closing his eyes. Maybe in his dreams, he'd see her again—red hair gleaming under lantern lights, that rebellious grin, her gentle voice whispering gratitude.

For now, the hush of midday lulled him, and the last thought that crossed his mind was a silent thank you for every second Rias had spent in his life.

Kazuki woke an hour later to a soft knock at his door. He sat up groggily, calling, "Come in."

A maid he recognized—Mariko—stepped inside, holding a small envelope. "This arrived just now, Master Kazuki. One of the Gremory attendants asked us to pass it to you after they left."

Kazuki's heart thudded. "From Rias?"

Mariko just smiled politely and handed him the envelope before leaving.

He stared at it—a plain white envelope, unsealed, with his name scrawled across in an elegant, almost old-fashioned cursive. Carefully, he slid out a short note, reading it in a hushed whisper:

Kazuki,

Thank you for showing me the fireworks, for letting me be a normal girl—if only for a night. I'm sorry we couldn't say more before leaving. Until we meet again, please take care of Sora.

—Rias

His breath caught. A surge of emotion coursed through him. The words were short but heartfelt. He could practically see her writing it in hurried strokes, wanting to say so much yet limited by time and secrecy.

A small smile found its way to his lips. Rias—even at the last moment, she found a way to leave him something tangible, a reminder of her promise.

He carefully folded the note, tucking it into a safe corner of his desk. Then he glanced at the fish bowl, where Sora swam lazily. The bright morning sun reflected off the silver scales, flashing like a miniature star.

Kazuki let out a slow breath. "I'll keep him safe," he whispered, echoing Rias's trust.