*READ THIS* Some ground rules:

1) Only what's found within the games Tales of Berseria and Tales of Zestiria are acknowledged as canon. Also, if I didn't manage to find something, I can't take it into account, obviously; I thought I was pretty thorough with Berseria, but Zestiria was a slog, and I probably missed a lot…the point is, if I contradict something that is in the games, it's because I don't know about it. Besides that, though, even if it's the Word of God, it doesn't count if it wasn't in the games. Obviously. That's the only way Rokurou is still around post-Zestiria.

2) Alisha's Story is NOT canon. I have not played it, I cannot play it, and from what I've read about it online, it is terrible, so I do not want to play it. Lunarre died when Rose stabbed him, Symmone is off doing Symmone things, and though Alisha does join Rose in the quest to purify the land so Sorey and Maotelus can return, no events of any unfortunate nature occurred during that time, besides what's in this chapter. Also not canon is the Anime, which I also have not seen.

3) My Berseria-only ficlet "A Wandering Heart" is a prequel-ish setup thing to this fic; everything in that fic, and especially everything said in the footnote of that fic, applies to this story as well.

4) I know there's some contention in the fanbase regarding Velvet's sexuality, so let me explain my take on the matter. First of all, there is no romantic subplot for ANY of Berseria's characters, at any point, so that argument isn't really valid; to claim that one of the protagonists' lack of interest in the opposite sex means they're gay is to claim that they're ALL gay, except maybe Rokurou because he asked Phi about going into the bath with Velvet that one time. The only real indication we get as to any of the characters' sexual orientation comes from the post-postgame-dungeon bath scene, and my interpretations are as follows: Rokurou is definitely into women, Eleanor is not into men, and Velvet's smirk when she tells Phi that she didn't have her eyes closed during the event indicates that she finds at least some appeal in the male figure. She does also have thoughts of one day becoming a mother during the intro, which, considering that it's unlikely sperm donors are a thing in the world of Berseria, isn't a particularly gay thought, though of course that doesn't necessarily prove anything. HOWEVER, it is a fact that the only person outside her family that she ever seems to have a deep connection with throughout the game is her childhood friend Niko, to the point where she was going to teach Niko a family recipe, which kind of seems like a more-than-friends thing to do. In any case, the only thing that seems entirely certain is that, at any given point throughout the game, Velvet has things that matter to her a lot more than finding a partner: taking care of her sickly brother before the Advent, and avenging her sickly brother after the Advent.
*TL;DR: Velvet is bi, but romance is never anywhere near the top of her list of priorities.

5) When certain parts of this story feel contrived - and they will - all I can say to justify it is, something something Maotelus's blessing something something. The point of this story was to give Rokurou and Velvet better, more satisfying endings than they got, to actually finish off their character arcs and have them find what they didn't even know they were looking for. I actually conceived most of this story before I even got my hands on a copy of Zestiria; having played through Zestiria so I could write this with some amount of accuracy, I now want to give closure to some Zestiria characters too, so there will be a sequel. My point is, characters in this universe rarely get closure or finished character arcs, and that's what I'm setting out to fix as a fanfiction author. To that end, some things will be imperfect (especially in this chapter), and for that I apologize.

It had been centuries since Rokurou had traveled with companions, so many that he had long since lost count. Always, he pursued strength, mastery as a swordsman, and always, something was lacking. Forever alone with his thoughts, when he wasn't mediating or focusing on his training, he thought of his old comrades, Velvet most of all. The faces of the others faded with time, yet Velvet's blazing golden eyes were still crystal-clear in his memory. Even though he couldn't exactly miss her, not as a mostly-emotionless daemon, her absence was one he felt whenever he was at rest. No matter what he did, or where he went, something was always missing…and eventually, he started thinking that that something was her, and her alone.

But she was far out of his reach. In order to bring her back to the world, he would have to find Maotelus, and who knew what the Dragon of Light was doing, or where he might be? So Rokurou wandered, fighting whomever he could, desperate for fulfillment and never finding it.

The world changed, of course; the times, the people, the land. Every now and then, while staying at inns, he would hear talk of the modern times, of the Shepherd and all that that meant. They called his kind 'hellions' now, and malakhim were called 'seraphim', though not everyone even believed those existed. Politics happened, and soon the continent was divided in two, the Kingdom of Hyland and the Rolance Empire. Rokurou didn't care for the most part, but when war broke out between the two nations, as a yaksha, he couldn't help lingering on the outskirts of the battlefield, picking fights with any humans-turned-daemon who stumbled off it in a confused rage. None of them put up any kind of fight, though, as so few things did by then; it was so disappointing, it took two whole days of meditation after a dragon broke up the battle for Rokurou to maintain his sanity and not be completely consumed by the malevolence he lived with.

Still, he lived, maintaining his identity and being through sheer self-discipline and mental fortitude. His body didn't age for some reason, and so, as long as he spread out his incursions into society enough that people wouldn't recognize that fact, he could still occasionally even enjoy a meal and a bed. This only ever meant thoughts of Velvet, of what he was lacking, but the booze was almost nice enough to be worth it.

Then, on one trip into some town, he caught sight of someone familiar. The familiarity alone caught him off-guard, as nothing he knew still lived. But there it was: a man in a long black coat, blond hair that faded to orange at the tips, and eyes as blue as the sea. He was just standing there, not doing anything, but their eyes met, as if Eizen had been waiting for him.

"Eizen!" Rokurou exclaimed, approaching his old friend.

The old malak didn't flinch.

"Hey, how are you?" Rokurou asked him. "You remember me, don't you? Rokurou?"

"Rokurou," Eizen repeated, his eyes turning away. "Yeah, I remember…It's been a long time. I didn't think you were still around."

"Yeah, don't remind me," Rokurou chuckled, feeling lighter than he had in so very long. "Hey, care to grab a drink with me?"

"Not a good idea," Eizen replied. "Humans can't see seraphim. It would raise too many questions."

"Oh, right."

An awkward silence hung between them. Something felt off, but Rokurou tried to shake the sensation; just being able to talk with someone who knew him was a gift that he would have to be a fool to question.

"Um…is the Van Eltia still sailing?" Rokurou asked.

"No, not for a long time," Eizen replied. "I still find a way, though. What about you?"

"I'm still working hard to be the best swordsman I can be," Rokurou replied readily. He frowned, then added, "Though it's not really working out like I thought it would."

"Oh?"

"I don't know how to explain it," Rokurou confessed. "Something's just…missing. I can't quite put my finger on it. Though I do miss you and everyone else…especially Velvet."

"Velvet," Eizen repeated. "Haven't heard that name in a long time…"

"Do you think she's still in the earthpulse?" Rokurou asked abruptly. "You know, with Innominat?"

"Most likely," Eizen replied.

"Because I've been thinking," Rokurou carried on, "if we could just get in there, maybe we could pull her and Innominat apart somehow. Then Laphicet - er, Maotelus - could consume what's left of Innominat, just like he wanted to do to him, and then Velvet could-"

"Do you have any idea what you're asking?" Eizen demanded gruffly, sounding more like himself than he had the entire conversation. "To go within the earthpulse is no simple matter, and I'm sure if there was a way to pull them apart, Maotelus would have done it a long time ago. Even then, the risk of releasing Innominat is too great. You should just let this idea go."

"Hey, are you all right?" Rokurou asked. "It's not like you to tell people to give up on what they want to do…"

"All I'm saying is that it's a bad idea," Eizen stated. "Innominat is dangerous, and it's only because of Velvet that the world is safe from him. There's no guarantee Maotelus could get rid of him."

"I'd still like to try, though," Rokurou mused. "I don't suppose you know anyone who could help me?"

"Maybe I do," Eizen said cryptically, "but I won't tell you who. Seriously, find something else to give your life meaning, or give up."

And with no further explanation, Eizen walked away. Rokurou was stunned for a minute, and by the time he managed to pursue his old friend around a corner, Eizen was nowhere to be seen.

Was that really Eizen? he thought. It's been a long time, but I don't remember him being like that… He shook his head. No. No, it was him. I guess time changes everyone, even malakhim. Shrugging this off, he instead refocused on what Eizen had said. Someone he knows could help me find Velvet. That's a lead. How many people could possibly know the Reaper?

The thought burrowed its way deep into Rokurou's mind, yet another idea that simply would not let him rest.

~o~

Someone knew Eizen. As long as Rokurou knew this, he couldn't stop wondering who could possibly know Eizen that might be able to help him. With no better ideas, and all the time in the world, he started asking around.

At first, it was just innkeepers, shopkeepers, anyone he had to talk to anyway: "Do you know Eizen?" Then he started stopping people on the streets or roads every now and then and asking them. Within a year, he found himself lingering in towns and villages, asking around before setting out on his next bout of training.

It was all for naught. No one he asked had any idea what he was talking about. Still, the possibility haunted him. He wasn't even sure why he was so obsessed with Velvet. Maybe it was his old debt, or maybe it was the fact that she would be a damn fine opponent in battle and might at last give him what he sought as a swordsman…or maybe it was something else, something he couldn't articulate or feel, only sense on an instinctual level…

Then, one day, as he was spending some time in a town built in the middle of a huge lake, he passed a group of people and heard one of them gasp. Some words were exchanged, words he couldn't quite make out, and their steps stopped. Staying mindful of them, Rokurou kept walking…and sure enough, they started following him.

Instinct took over, and he abruptly turned down a side street. Whoever they were, they followed, and he took them on a winding path through the city before reaching a distant, quiet alley with a dead end. Ducking around a corner, he drew his swords, then leapt out when they got close.

"Why are you following me?" he asked.

To his surprise, his pursuers were four women, two of whom, Rokurou realized with a start, were malakhim - one, a woman with long hair that faded to pink and a frilly red dress, the other, what looked like a child wearing a cute little white dress and carrying an umbrella. The girl looked familiar, but he couldn't place her. The human at the front was a redheaded girl with blue eyes and a catlike smile, and the other appeared to be a female knight with blond hair that looked like it was quite a chore to keep in its weird shapes.

Though they flinched at his sudden appearance, they all looked at him with hard eyes, as though searching for something.

"He looks…like Lady Maltran did," the girl knight noted, not ansewring Rokurou's question. "I can't see any marks of a hellion on him, but…"

"He's definitely malevolent," said the woman malak.

Rokurou blinked, then smirked. "Was it that obvious?" he asked, and brushed aside the hair he used to cover his daemon mark to humor them. "No one's ever noticed before."

All four women gasped, clearly able to see his corrupted eye, and then the redhead drew two shortswords from behind her back, while the knight brandished her spear.

"A fight?" Rokurou asked, surprised but delighted, brandishing his swords again. "You're on! Don't go easy on me!"

"Why didn't we get Zaveid and Uno?" the knight asked worriedly.

"No time, and it doesn't matter, we can take this guy," the redhead declared.

As they spoke, the two humans charged at him, while the malakhim stayed back and began charging malak artes. Barely had a few blows been exchanged, though, before Rokurou noticed something with a jolt of total shock.

"Whoa, time out!" he shouted. "Time out, time out!"

More out of surprise than a willingness to obey, everyone froze.

He turned a hard stare on the redhead. "Where did you learn that technique?" he demanded, sheathing his swords.

"My…technique?" the redhead repeated, confused.

"Your fighting style," Rokurou pressed. "Where did you learn it?"

"Uh…" She glanced at her comrades, who were clearly even more at a loss than she was. "I…I was raised by the Windriders. This is just the fighting style we use."

"The Windriders?" Rokurou asked. "Who are they?"

"The finest, most feared mercenary guild on the continent," the redhead answered with a smirk.

"Mercenaries…?"

"Sure, we had to break up after an incident, but we formed the Scattered Bones assassins' guild. You've heard of us, haven't you?"

"Assassins…?" Rokurou felt his breath coming hard, as something began to rise in his chest.

"What's the big deal with my fighting style, anyway?" the girl asked.

"Mercenaries," Rokurou repeated under his breath. "Hired blades. Thugs. Bandits. Scum!" For the first time in many centuries, Rokurou felt something, truly felt it, with all his being: sheer, unbridled rage. "Assassins! Murderers! Backstabbers! This is the legacy of my ancestors?!"

"Huh?!" the offender took a step back.

Fury exploded through Rokurou's entire body, and he roared at the intensity of the emotion, roared like a wild animal, like the daemon he was. He felt it expand beyond him, fill the air and the ground.

"Rose!" shouted the malak woman, reaching a hand out to the redheaded girl, and then she and the girl malak were gone. The remaining two humans cried out in fear and stumbled away from his outburst.

"How dare you?!" Rokurou shouted at the redhead. "How dare you defile my family's name?! The Rangetsu style is meant for those who fight with honor, with discipline, with respect! When I passed it on to others, I taught them better than to use it for profit, for underhanded killing and renown! You have no right to fight like one of my clan! No right!"

"I don't know what your deal is," snarled his foe, "but a hellion has no right to talk about honor!"

With far more force than needed, Rokurou grabbed Stormhowl in both hands and drew it, aiming it at her. "Fight me!" he shouted. "One on one, greatsword against short swords, no allies, no malakhim! Prove to me that you have the right to wield the techniques of my ancestors! Fight me now, unless you don't have the honor to fight an opponent head-on!"

"Rose," the knight said to her companion, "don't listen-"

But the girl apparently called Rose held a hand out to the knight, her blazing eyes locked on Rokurou. "Do not question my honor, hellion," she spat. "Alisha, stay out of this. If he wants to fight one on one…" She twirled her daggers and took a defensive stance that was signature of the Rangetsu style. "…then that's what he's gonna get!"

With a roar, Rokurou charged at her. He expected her to block, but instead, she neatly dodged him, so deftly that he didn't actually see her move, and flowed seamlessly into a blow aimed at his side. Only centuries of practice prevented him from getting caught off-guard, and he just managed to deflect her attack. As soon as her knife glanced off his blade, she aimed a blow towards his head with her other dagger. He ducked, and she changed direction, following his movement.

She was good.

Rokurou managed to fend her off, only for the next attack to come. It quickly became apparent that Rose was the finest opponent he'd faced since Shigure; she didn't just use the Rangetsu style, she was a master of it, each of her movements flowing seamlessly into the next with no apparent effort or hesitation. His did likewise, and their battle turned into a dance, a glorious display of perfect blocks and dodges, leaps and rolls and swinging blades. Slowly, the cold intensity of battle, the natural state of the yaksha, washed over Rokurou, and where once his rage had made his movements overpowered and clumsy, leaving him barely able to defend himself, he regained his control and started being able to fight back.

For each attack by the one, the other would have a perfect dodge or block and counterattack, and their mastery was about equal. A few thoughts flitted through Rokurou's mind, never quite distracting him, just insights into the fight: Rose was a master of techniques he'd trained at for many years before becoming a daemon, even some he had still been struggling with when he'd decided he wanted to take down Shigure - only one who had truly been raised to use this fighting style could fight like this. She almost reminded him of him, putting his all into besting his Stormhowl-wielding brother and not quite being able to succeed.

As the battle went on, it became clear that the deciding factor in this fight would be stamina, and stamina alone, and Rose apparently realized this a few moments after Rokurou did. Suddenly, she was the one getting sloppy, taking foolish risks in an attempt to get the upper hand, but the sudden change in tactics was just jarring enough that Rokurou wasn't quite able to take advantage at first. When he realized what she was doing, he redoubled his offense, forcing her to defend and leaving her little room to maneuver.

In what was clearly a last, desperate bid to overpower him, Rose caught Stormhowl between her daggers and tried to use them to wrench his sword out of his hands with all her strength. Rather than resist, he relinquished his grip readily, throwing her off balance and causing her to lose her grip on her own weapons as well. As the three blades flew into the air, Rokurou reached over his shoulder for Stormquell, drew it, and swung, stopping just a hair's breadth from the side of Rose's throat; why he stayed his hand wasn't something he was consciously certain of.

Three swords clattered to the ground, and then, save for the heaving chests and the rasping of breath, all was still.

They held the position. Rokurou waited, blood roaring in his ears and deafening him to the cry of distress from Rose's comrade, for the assassin to show him her own dirty trick.

It didn't come. Instead, after a minute, Rose lifted her chin.

"Well, hellion?" she challenged. "You've bested me. Are you going to kill me or not?"

"You accept defeat?" Rokurou growled. "No underhanded techniques to overpower a foe who's better than you? I thought you were an assassin!"

"Just because it's my business to kill doesn't mean I don't have honor," Rose told him. "This is the way of the Windriders…of my family. If we're bested in a fair fight, we accept the loss with grace. Although…" Her lips twisted into a sly smile. "No one has ever succeeded at beating us one-on-one that I know of. Well, Sorey did, but of course he had the seraphim helping him."

"And what happens if the one you're charged to kill manages to beat you?" Rokurou demanded. "What then? How do you make your blood money?"

"We don't make a living off assassin contracts," Rose replied. "Most of our earnings come from honest trade as a merchant guild. And it's not like we kill for fun. If we're asked to take someone out, we look into them first, find out what kind of person they are, whether or not they really did whatever they're accused of doing that caused someone to want them dead; and if they don't deserve to die, we turn down the contract."

Rokurou processed this. Something about Rose's eyes told him that she wasn't the type to make up stories to save her own skin, and she had fought like a Rangetsu, meaning she at least had the discipline needed for it. That made her, in a way, a younger generation of his family…and that, he realized, was why he hadn't killed her: though young Rangetsu men and women were encouraged to kill their elders in battle if they managed to achieve victory, elders never killed members of the younger generations.

With a sigh, he closed his eyes and wrestled his anger back down. He half-expected a blade in his chest, having taken his eyes off his opponent, but still, it didn't come. At last, he opened his eyes, smiled, and withdrew his sword, sheathing it. "I'm sorry," he said. "It seems I misjudged you. You're a worthy user of the Rangetsu style."

"Uh…"

Turning his back, Rokurou walked over to where Stormhowl and her daggers had fallen to the floor and picked them up. He sheathed his own blade, then brought the daggers to her and held them out, hilt-first. "I'm not sorry we fought, though," he told her, grinning. "That was the best battle I've had in hundreds of years!"

"Hundreds of years?" she gasped, taking her weapons and sheathing them. "How old are you?"

"Eh, I lost track of the centuries a few centuries ago," he said dismissively.

"Rose!"

Rokurou turned, and saw that the two malakhim were back.

"Rose, are you okay?" asked the older woman, rushing over to the heiress of the Rangetsu legacy.

"I'm fine, Lailah," Rose assured her.

The malak nodded, then turned to Rokurou and raised a piece of paper - paper, Rokurou noticed, much like what Laphicet used to use. Before he could react, white fire erupted from the malak's hands and cascaded over him.

It was an odd sensation, one he'd felt once before. This was the Silver Flame, Laphicet's gift to the world as an Empyrian. And just like all those centuries before, though Rokurou felt its burning touch, it didn't penetrate his skin.

Rose and the malak gasped. "He wasn't purified?" Rose exclaimed.

"Yeah, that trick doesn't work on me," he told them. "Maotelus himself tried it once. I guess I'm just too malevolent."

"Maotelus?" Rose exclaimed. "You know Maotelus?"

"Hmm?" the malak asked, though her eyes were on the sky for some reason. "That's a big cloud…"

"Oh yeah, he was an old friend of mine," Rokurou said brightly, ignoring this odd tangent. "We went on a big journey together a long time ago, before he became the new Empyrian."

"Empyrian…?" asked the other human.

"Empyrian is what the Great Lords used to be called," said the girl malak in an oddly toneless voice. "It's been a long time since anyone called them that, though. This guy really is old."

"Lailah," Rose said, turning to the one who had tried to purify Rokurou, "tell me something. His domain was strong enough to render you powerless, right? How did you break through?"

"We didn't," answered the malak who seemed to be named Lailah, her voice gentle and somehow heavy with the wisdom of ages gone by, and she approached Rokurou with a small frown on her face. "He…he withdrew it of his own accord." She raised a hand, and as Rokurou stood frozen in shock, she touched the hair covering the right half of his face, before exclaiming and withdrawing her touch as though she'd been stung. "Such malevolence," she gasped. "I haven't felt malevolence like this since the Lord of Calamity. And yet…" She cast a piercing gaze over him, as though looking for something. "And yet somehow, he's keeping it entirely contained within his being."

"So…is he the Lord of Calamity or not?" Rose asked, rolling her eyes.

"I don't think so," Lailah said slowly. "In fact, he's not exuding any malevolence at all, not even into the earth."

"Unless you make him angry, apparently," the other malak commented, her voice flat.

"Meaning killing him won't help Sorey and Maotelus," Rose grumbled. With a heavy sigh, she folded her arms. "Fine. Let's let him walk away."

Everyone gasped. "Rose, he's still a hellion!" exclaimed the knight. "We can't just-"

"He beat me, fair and square," Rose said, though she refused to look at any of her companions. "It's our way: if we're beaten, we accept the loss with grace, and if our conqueror spares our life, we owe them a debt. Always pay what you owe…and I owe it to him to judge him fairly. I don't think he deserves to die."

"Rose," Lailah said, her gentle face confused, "you've never hesitated to kill a hellion who couldn't be purified before."

"You actually told Sorey that he was holding us back whenever he hesitated to kill one himself," added the malak with the umbrella.

"Yeah," Rose said slowly, "but I've also killed humans who didn't generate any malevolence at all, because they were still bad people. Not everyone who deserves death is malevolent, so…maybe not everyone who's malevolent deserves death."

"And what makes you think this one isn't just as bad as every other hellion we've seen?" the young malak questioned, her voice still oddly toneless.

"He could have killed me," Rose replied. "He chose not to. Even though he's a hellion, he has a weird sense of honor. If he'd spare my life, I don't think he'd go around murdering anyone else. So, if we killed him, what would that say about us?"

Her companions stared at her.

"Think of it this way," she said eventually: "I kill people based on who they are, not what they are. I've judged humans who had no malevolence at all; if I killed a hellion who isn't really doing any harm, then that's…that's holding a double standard. It's not really fair, is it?"

"He's still a hellion," Edna pointed out.

"I know, but…" Rose fiddled absently with a lock of her hair. "I don't know…for some reason, killing him just…doesn't feel right. I can't explain it any better than that."

"Rose," Lailah sighed, "you are the prime Squire now, the honorary Shepherd. You're in charge. If you're sure we should let this hellion live, we'll do as you say. But are you really sure?"

There was only a moment of hesitation before Rose nodded. "I'm sure," she said. "I owe him for sparing my life, so I'm judging him for who he is, not what he is, and based on that judgment, he doesn't deserve to die."

"Very well," Lailah conceded, nodding.

"You owe me a debt, huh?" Rokurou asked. "And you're willing to accept that even though I'm a daemon? Heh, you really are worthy of the techniques of my ancestors."

"You keep saying that," Rose remarked; "what does it mean?"

"Just that you fight using the battle style of my clan," Rokurou replied, shrugging. "Nothing more than that, really. I taught it to some people after the rest of my family was wiped out so our ways wouldn't be forgotten. I have to say, I'm really glad it was worth the effort, that our legacy was preserved along with our techniques."

"Whatever," Rose muttered.

"And hey, if you owe me a debt, maybe you can answer a question I have," Rokurou went on, suddenly remembering. "You wouldn't happen to know Eizen, would you?"

He wasn't really expecting an affirmative response, but Rose and the two malakhim gasped, and Rose and Lailah turned to the malak girl with the umbrella. Rokurou followed their gaze, and found cold blue eyes glaring at him.

She brandished her umbrella like a sword and demanded in a low voice, "What do you want with my brother?"

Before anyone asks, yes, Eizen is dead at this point in time. Don't worry, I didn't magic him back to life, this isn't THAT kind of fixit fanfic.