The cool night air whispered through the streets of Orario, winding through the stone alleys and flickering lanterns. The moon hung high, casting silver light upon the slumbering city, yet Bastet found herself wide awake, her golden-bronze form perched upon the edge of a rooftop. The bustling crowds had long since thinned, leaving only the occasional late-night straggler or a patrolling adventurer navigating the winding paths below.
She exhaled softly, watching the wisps of her breath dissipate into the night. Another day of odd jobs completed, another handful of valis earned—not glamorous, but necessary. It had been months since her descent into the lower world, and though she had adjusted to Orario's rhythms, a longing still stirred within her. Not for the heavens she had left behind, but for something more tangible, more real. A family.
She stretched, her feline tail flicking lazily behind her. A Familia was meant to be a reflection of its god, a gathering of souls bound not by duty, but by something deeper. She had yet to find hers.
Her emerald eyes scanned the empty streets below. Who would they be? What kind of soul would be the first to answer her call?
A warrior? Strong and unyielding, someone who would charge into battle without hesitation? Or perhaps a rogue, someone nimble and clever, dancing on the edge of danger with a smirk on their lips?
She smirked to herself, resting her chin against her knee. There was always the chance of a scholar or a craftsman, someone with no interest in the Dungeon's depths, yet still seeking a place to belong.
She had no grand temple, no alluring promises of power or wealth to offer. She had only herself, her guidance, her protection. Would that be enough?
Her ears twitched at the distant echo of footsteps—some adventurer stumbling home after a night of revelry, no doubt. It was strange, how so many sought companionship in fleeting pleasures, yet she remained here, waiting.
Perhaps she had preferences. A misfit, maybe. Someone who did not quite belong anywhere else, someone who needed more than just a god's blessing, but a place to call home.
She let out a quiet chuckle. A stubborn one, she decided. A fighter—not necessarily the strongest, but someone with spirit. Someone who would not be crushed by the weight of Orario's cruelty. Someone who would challenge her, make her work to earn their trust.
A bond like that would not be easy to forge. But it would have substance.
The moonlight cast her shadow long across the rooftop, a silent watcher over the city she was still learning to call home. She did not know when they would come, nor who they would be. But she would wait.
And when they arrived, she would make sure they never had to be alone again.
Bastet rose to her feet, the tiles cool beneath her bare toes. With a silent bound, she moved across the rooftops, slipping through the city like a shadow. She preferred traveling this way—light, unseen, free. The streets below stretched in winding veins of stone, dotted with the occasional flickering lantern, the last stragglers of the night making their way home.
Then she heard it.
Faint, almost lost beneath the rustling wind.
Crying.
Her ears twitched. The sound was close, buried in the narrow veins of Orario's alleyways. Not the drunken wailing of a failed gambler, nor the broken sobs of a reckless adventurer mourning lost comrades. This was different—softer, restrained.
She crouched at the edge of a rooftop, peering into the alley below. There, curled against the cold embrace of a stone wall, sat a girl wrapped in herself. Slender arms were drawn tight, scarlet hair tumbling over her face in disheveled waves. Her clothes—once fine, now dirtied and wrinkled—hinted at a life better kept than this moment suggested.
Not quite a child, yet far from the hardened edge of adulthood.
Bastet's tail flicked as she watched, an ache settling in her chest. She had seen many things since her descent into the lower world—many sorrows, many struggles. But there was something about the sight of someone so young, alone in the dark, that stirred something deeper than sympathy.
Without hesitation, she dropped down from the rooftop, landing lightly on the stone. Not too close—just near enough to be noticed without overwhelming. Then, without a word, she sat down beside her, letting the silence stretch between them.
The crying didn't stop immediately, but it faltered. A sniffle. A shallow breath. Slowly, the girl stirred, lifting her head just slightly.
Bastet found herself staring into sapphire-blue eyes, glassy with unshed tears. The girl blinked at her, wary, as if uncertain whether she was real or just another cruel trick of the night.
She offered a small, warm smile. "Do you want to come with me?"
A pause. A searching look.
Then, hesitantly, the girl reached forward.
Bastet took her hand—delicate, cold, yet steady enough to grasp hers in return—and stood. She followed without resistance, her fingers still curled lightly around Bastet's.
The city murmured around them as they walked, the quiet stretching comfortably between them. It was a tentative trust, but trust all the same.
After a few moments, Bastet glanced down at her, her voice gentle but certain. "What's your name?"
The girl hesitated, as if weighing the question. "…Calista."
"And how old are you?"
Another pause, shorter this time. "Fourteen."
Bastet gave her hand a small squeeze, the kind that said I hear you.
"Well then, Calista," she said, leading her through the winding streets toward home. "Let's get you somewhere warm."
…
The room Bastet called home was modest—small, but not cramped, with a simple bed pushed against the wall, a wooden table, and a few personal belongings tucked neatly into the corners. A single lantern flickered with soft golden light, casting warm shadows across the walls. It wasn't grand, but it was hers.
And now, perhaps, it would be theirs.
She let go of Calista's hand as they stepped inside, watching as the girl hesitated near the door, eyes sweeping over the space. There was something guarded in her expression, though whether it was uncertainty or exhaustion, Bastet couldn't quite tell.
"Sit," Bastet said, motioning to the edge of the bed as she dropped down onto a stool. "I want to ask you something."
Calista did as told, though she kept her hands clasped in her lap, fingers lightly fidgeting with the hem of her tunic. Bastet noted the way her shoulders remained stiff, as though she were bracing for something.
"I was wondering if you'd like to be part of my Familia," Bastet said simply.
Calista blinked. Then, a beat later, frowned. "…Familia?"
Ah. Right. Not everyone knew about the gods or how things worked down here.
Bastet hummed, leaning back slightly. "A Familia is… well, think of it as a home, a family. A god or goddess like myself takes in people who need a place to belong. In return, we bless them, allowing them to grow stronger than any ordinary person could. Most adventurers belong to a Familia—it's what allows them to survive the Dungeon."
Calista tilted her head slightly, absorbing the information. "So… if I joined, I'd be able to become an adventurer? To grow stronger?"
Bastet nodded. "Exactly. Though that's not the only reason to join." She smiled, warm but firm. "I want a Familia where no one is left behind. Where those who have nowhere else to go can find a home."
That, it seemed, was what struck her the most.
Calista lowered her gaze, hands stilling in her lap. "A place to belong…" she murmured. There was something distant in her voice, something thoughtful.
Then, finally, she nodded. "Alright. I'll join."
Bastet grinned, standing up. "Good. Now, let's get your Falna settled."
She moved behind the girl and motioned for her to remove her tunic. For a moment, Calista stiffened. Bastet caught the hesitation but misinterpreted it, offering a reassuring chuckle. "Come on, don't be shy. It's just your back."
Still, Calista's movements were careful as she pulled the fabric over her head, revealing smooth, pale skin beneath. Bastet caught the way her shoulders hunched slightly, the hesitation lingering, and she smiled sympathetically. "You're still young—your chest will fill out in time."
Calista froze.
Bastet didn't notice at first, already moving to straddle the girl's back, pressing her palm lightly between her shoulder blades. It wasn't until she felt the subtle definition of lean muscle beneath her fingers—firm, honed not by brute strength but by precision and discipline—that she paused.
"…You've trained before," Bastet observed, fingers tracing the contours of the muscle. "Your body's not what I'd expect from someone just starting out."
Calista exhaled, the tension slowly bleeding out of her posture. "…I practice archery."
Bastet's ears perked. "Archery?"
She nodded, face still turned away. "It's… something I've been doing for a long time."
She hummed thoughtfully, returning her focus to her task. The Falna was a simple thing to apply—her divinity seeping into the canvas of Calista's back, writing her potential into reality. But when she leaned back to check her work, her breath hitched.
She already had a skill.
『Grace Unbroken』
Bastet scanned the description, her fingers lingering against Calista's shoulder. It was powerful—something that spoke of unshakable composure, an ability to inspire allies and unnerve enemies. But the side effect…
"You can't break composure, even if you want to," Bastet murmured, understanding settling like a weight in her chest.
Calista said nothing.
For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Then, slowly, Bastet moved. She wrapped her arms around the girl's shoulders, pressing her forehead gently against the back of her neck.
"I'll always see you," she murmured. "Even if no one else does."
Calista didn't react at first. But after a while, she nodded—small, almost imperceptible, but there.
Bastet pulled back with a gentle smile. "Alright, let's get ready for bed."
Calista blinked. "Where… am I sleeping?"
Bastet snorted. "What do you mean? We're sharing, of course."
That's when it happened.
"…I'm a guy."
"..."
Bastet's ears twitched. Slowly, she sat back, blinking down at him as her mind scrambled to process the words.
"…What."
---
A/N: Hello this is a fanfic I'm making! I researched quite a bit about Danmachi however I'm not fully versed in it so I will be making mistakes! This is my first fanfic, thank you for the support!
...
If you're reading this, then you've wandered all the way to the end. I'm impressed. Stories are like wine—meant to be savored, not rushed. So if you took your time? Thank you.
Of course, the real thanks goes to WiseTL—the one who turned tangled words into something beautiful. I just got asked to wrap things up with a ribbon. Hopefully this counts!
If you enjoyed the journey and want to support the person who made it possible, you can find them here:
👉 [patreon.com/WiseTL]
Go on. Be generous. They've earned it.
Until next time—read well, rest often, and maybe come visit me at the Hostess of Fertility sometime.
– Syr ✨