Disclaimer: I do not own DanMachi or any of the Omori's original characters, nor do I make any profit off of my writing.


Bell was laying with his chest flat against the queen-sized mattress. The sheets atop the bed were no nicer than those that laid he put on his own, not as they should be. This was a goddess's bed.

A goddess.

The sheets should be nicer, satin maybe, or even silk.

He sighed and pressed himself deeper into the sheets, his exposed torso sinking into the folds and creases of the think blankets that laid across Hestia's unmade bed. The goddess, per usual, was happily humming away as she updated his falna.

The tip of her finger danced across his back, gliding gracefully across his skin. Occasionally she'd run over a scar causing her finger to move at a weird angle. He was almost scared to see what the handwriting on his back looked like at this point with how often her finger was led astray.

The scars were raised areas of smooth skin that marred his back, crisscrossing in a poor rendition of a game of hop-scotch.

Did Aiz have this many scars?

The corners of the white-haired boy's mouth twitched down his face even as his eyes stayed closed. He doubted that she did. She was the Sword Princess. He didn't think he'd ever seen a scar on her. How'd she do it?

Was he just that weak?

Was she so much better than he was even starting out that she was nigh untouchable?

The rational part of his mind tried to reassure him, Aiz was never swallowed by a Lambton and trapped on the thirty-seventh floor with one other person, it said. He wanted to trust the voice, what it said was rational.

But what if she had been?

He didn't mean that in the sense that it was possible that she could have been in the same situation in the past.

That's stupidly impossible.

He just meant that what if she had been in his place? In his shoes?

What if Aiz, the Sword Princess, the Kenki, the Breaker of a Thousand Hearts. That Aiz.

What if she was in his shoes? Would she have done better?

The gap between the two of them was still too great, the mountain too high. It's a good thing he's going to climb it anyway.

Hestia's finger stalled just above the developmental abilities as she frowned. A certain skill was glowing brightly in the room, illuminating the corners where the evening sun couldn't reach through the open windows. Liaris Freese burned brightly in the dim light as Bell renewed his vows to get stronger and the goddess couldn't help the annoyance that forced its way into her heart at the sight.

She was here, not Whalenwhatsit!

She was!

She was sitting on top of him, on her bed, in her room, in her house. How can he still be thinking about her? That's ridiculous!

She was a goddess.

She was a beautiful goddess.

Sure, she was short.

But she had great boobs and a great face and a great personality!

Her finger pressed into his back a little more forcefully than before and Bell jolted slightly at his goddess's aggressive scribing. He wasn't really sure it was that she was trying to dig so deep into his back.

Didn't she learn anything from the dwarves of Moria?

It is possible to dig too deep.

He bit back a hiss as her nail grated along his spine, accidentally of course. He cracked his right eye open to glare at the girl on top of him but his eyes faltered when she froze again. A pensive look crossed her face before her eyes rose and caught his own.

"Bell-kun."

He sighed, the back of his chest heaving up and down with the effort and the sheets ruffled as the air was expelled through his nose.

"Yes, Kami-sama?"

She tapped his back a few times with her fingertip and bobbed her head side to side in thought. Her two pigtails spun back and forth through the air as she did so, dangling from her scalp like two party streamers. She opened her mouth before closing it once again and frowned.

She moved her eyes from the center of his back and looked out the window. Wanting to know what she was looking at he turned his head, his nose smushed against the mattress as he dragged his face through the sheets and began looking out to the left.

Nothing.

She was looking at nothing.

Just white clouds tinted orange by the setting sun and a few birds flying over Orario to the south. A cold breeze swept through the window and Bell shivered.

Must be migratory birds.

Bell blinked.

He doesn't even care about the birds!

With another mighty sigh, one ruby eye flicked up to regard the goddess cooly – this time the left one.

"What is it, Kami-sama?"

"How.. "

She sucked on her bottom lip before swinging her right leg over his back and kneeling down beside him. Without her weight on top of him, he was able to sit up fully and give the girl his full attention. She spun a finger through the air and he turned around, presenting her with his back once again.

She tapped on the center of his back, in the same place she was tapping before.

".. luck.. "

"What about 'luck?'"

"It's rank 'S.'"

His breath caught.

Well shit.

That's a dead giveaway.

Maybe, she wouldn't think anything of it?

She would.

She did.

She tapped on it again then traced the Koine 'S' overtop the translated symbol in the language of the gods. The character glowed softly as she pondered it.

".. it was 'F.'"

Bell chuckled nervously and drummed his fingers along his thighs, he was incredibly glad she had him turn around, he doubted his face would do him any favors in trying to play it off.

He could feel Hestia's finger drag along the lower part of his back but he paid it no mind, because oh my Kami how am I going to explain this to her and not have her freak out.

He didn't do anything bad, of course. A hero always does the right thing.

He just may have done something she strictly forbid him from doing. He recognizes that she made a decision (and as his goddess he should respect it. But given it is a stupid-ass decision, he elected to ignore it.

So, what if he broke one little rule?

It was for the greater good, right?

Right?

Hestia wouldn't be mad at him.

Right?

Right.

Oh Kami, he was going to die.

He was going to die in some sad excuse for divine judgment and he was never going to be a hero and save Aiz and get the girl and tell her he loves her and marry her and–

A piece of paper fell down into his hand, drawing him from his thoughts, and there it was. The very thing that was going to spell his doom. He thought that he would go out in an amazing blaze of glory, maybe surrounded by his closest companions as he bled out on a smoldering battlefield. Or maybe he'd have one of those mysterious deaths where the audience isn't really sure if the hero was alive or not.

They'd all just be like 'hey, do you guys think he's alive?' and then that one asshole who you're not really sure why you bring along every time says exactly what everyone is thinking and spits all over your hopes with a deadpanned 'no.'

He was going to die on some hand-me-down cotton sheets and be forgotten to the world all because he tried to–

".. care to explain?"

He looked down at the paper and gulped.

'Luck: F - S'

Yeah. Yeah, that's pretty incriminating.

How many levels is that even?

F. E. D. C. B. A. S.

Six?

No, that's seven.

What was his biggest jump before?

Before the war games definitely, he'd trained with Tiona and Aiz for almost a week straight. How much had his stats jumped then? He'd gone from 'B' to 'SSS,' right? What excuse could he come up with that would make sense for increasing luck of all things to 'S' in one status update?

I've got it!

"Welf and I played 'go fish.'"

".. "

".. "

She must be dumbfounded with how much sense that makes.

Hestia sighed, "setting aside the fact that I can literally tell that you just lied. Go Fish? Really, Bell-kun? That's the best you could do?"

"Well, I– "

"No."

Hestia leaned forward and slapped a hand over his mouth before cutting him off, whatever he was about to say was going to be incredibly stupid and only lower her opinion of him. She didn't need that.

"Just tell the truth, Bell-kun."

He sighed and turned around, plucking his long-sleeved black shirt up from the bed (because what else does he wear but black) and tugging it over his head in one single movement. He nodded slowly and regarded her with squinted eyes, as if assessing if he can trust her with the true story.

He coughed into a closed fist and smiled brightly causing her to internally groan. She knew that face. It was the face he put on before he started telling the most mundane story but saying everything as if it was the most enthralling epic to ever grace the pages of a leather-bound book.

It was going to be a long night.

Was it too late to back out? Maybe she could go find the flat-chested goddess somewhere and go get plastered instead. It wouldn't be too har–

"So, there I was!"

Bell threw one arm out and swept it through the air dramatically and Hestia resisted the urge to throw herself out of the open window behind her.

"Just a boy, alone in the world and trying his best to survive when the odds were stacked against him!"

Hestia slammed her forehead down into the headboard of her bed, hard enough to cause pain but not so hard that her arcanum activated itself to heal her. Although an early return to Tenkai wasn't sounding all that bad at the moment.

"It was there he saw the fairest maiden in all the lands, it was none other than– "

She slammed her forehead a little harder into the wood and drowned out whoever's name he was going to mention, she didn't need to hear it. Not even a little.

" –the valiant," he paused to slip a hand up to his mouth and lean in towards Hestia as if he were whispering a secret, "and handsome.. "

Hestia groaned.

Pain.

Could words cause physical pain?

".. hero shoved that dame out of the way, for she was not who he searched for."

Wait what?

Hestia turned around, her forehead consumed entirely by a rapidly worsening bruise and a trickle of crimson blood slipped down from her hair, running along the side of her nose and pooling in her agape mouth. If she were human, it'd definitely be gross, but the blood of the gods was actually quite tasty.

It was weird because it didn't actually taste like anything, but at the same time, it tasted like everything.

"The hero lunged forward, spreading his arms wide as he dove on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on he goes into the arms of his most trusted companion."

Oh.

Bell was standing now.

Hestia saw the door open and Lili peak her head inside before her eyes widened and she immediately shut it right back up, scurrying away like the runt she is. The traitor.

"It was he who stood beside the hero's side against the ghastly and villainous villain!"

Villainous villain?

This is why country boys need better education systems. Surely he could have found a better adjective!

"It was Terry!"

The villainous villain was named Terry?!

"Yes, yes, it is true."

Bell nodded sagely from where he stood on her mattress, he rocked from side to side, dipping his toes deeper into the plush ground and causing the sheets to pool around his feet.

"But Terry was defeated, his companions held strong, they beat that pig of a beast and roasted him on a spit."

He paused.

".. metaphorically of course."

Hestia wasn't really sure where Bell got his story-telling voice, she was pretty sure he was trying to mimic his grandfather's but something was so horribly off about it. His voice wasn't very deep to begin with but him trying to lower it several octaves was just wrong, so very wrong.

It sounded like a carriage with three broken wheels being dragged along a gravel pathway.

It just wasn't good at all.

Adding in his eccentric manner of acting out the stories as he spoke and the awkward dances that came as a result, it just made her wonder if his grandfather was this bad.

"He and his trusty companion, his ever-loyal dog.. "

His companion is a dog?

".. yes his dog was quite the ruffian.. "

Is he alluding to something? Why is he stressing certain words so much?

".. they were back on the prowl! Heading back into the heart of the dungeon city.. "

Oh goodie, he's finally setting the scene.

And what a scene it was.

Brilliant magic crystal spotlights that shined brightly into the heavens, drowning the stars overhead out in the night sky. Beautiful buildings lining the golden streets, and elegantly dressed nobles strolling from side to side – their consciouses light and their pockets heavy.

Oh, the hero and his companion could practically smell the richness and snobbishness.

That's why they were going to 'Robin Hood' the bitches.

Bell had only recently become acquainted with the story of the benevolent thief, having picked the colorful children's book up after setting aside some book by some Tolkien or whatever. He was instantly enthralled, gone were the convoluted words and all the hubbub about dwarves, elves, humans, orcs, and rings.

He didn't much care for things that complex. He was a simple man, colorful images about a fox that walks on two legs with a horribly ugly hat and a bow and steals from rich assholes, now that's what he calls entertaining.

The issue was, to properly 'Robin Hood' said rich asshole bitches, he needed to fit the role perfectly. The issue was he wasn't a fox.

Also, he didn't know how to shoot a bow.

Which is why he gathered his crack team!

The Ruffian Dog!

Mord Latro!

The plan was set and it was brilliant.

Sure, was Mord a fox? No.

Was he even a real dog? He didn't think so, but he could be hiding some ears under all that hair, our hero wasn't one to judge (besides rich people, of course).

But he was called a dog and well.. that's really all that mattered to him.

Also, he was the only person he knows who was free.

And willing.

He was also the only person he asked because let's be honest, what they were doing was less than ethical. Should he have asked Lili? She could have at least turned into a fox.

Wait. Could she have? Can Lili turn into animals? What about monsters?

Questions for later, it was too late to include the little thief now.

He had Mord and he had the–

He glanced over to the man beside him who was flashing just about every lady within the walls of the casino district a giant grin. He was trying to come off charming but it was really only creepy. Bell slapped him in the arm and knocked him out of his horny stupor.

"Did you bring the bow?"

"Why the hell would I bring the bow?"

This guy! How are we supposed to 'Robin Hood' them without a bow!

"Bell-san?"

A blinding smile split Bell's face as he whirled around to see just who he wanted to at the exact moment in time. It was almost like divine providence just how well things worked out.

That or a luck ability.

"Hey, Naaza! Just who we needed!"

The chienethrope looked at him, her tail wagging somewhat at his open praise before it stopped as she looked at the man smiling lecherously down at her from Bell's side.

"Who's he?"

Bell looked over at Mord and scowled, cuffing him over the ear and rolling his eyes when the man had the gall to act affronted.

"Don't give me that look you were being creepy," he turned back to the captain of the Miach familia and smiled, "how would you like to get a lot of money?"

He didn't expect any pushback from her, he knew just how much she wanted money. Her familia was in debt too, that's why he was here after all. Hestia had soooo much debt and he just couldn't stand idly by and let that happen.

Also, he wanted more familia members and they were never going to get any with that much money hanging over their heads.

Naaza was at his side in an instant, her tail wagging ferociously and kicking up the light amount of dust that had settled on the golden street since its last waxing. The rich folk that meandered around aimlessly scowled over at them but Bell paid them no mind.

He had his dog now.

And she could shoot a bow!

Sure, she wasn't a fox, but that's just unimportant inform–

"Naaza.. "

"Hmm? Yes, Bell?"

".. where's your bow?"

"Why would I have my both with me?"

Damnit!

Bell frowned as three sevens lined up in front of him on the slot machine and the worker beside him bashed his head into the metal side.

Mord was yawning into his hand behind him and Naaza was..

Well, Naaza was throwing money in the air and running through it, but that was beside the point.

This was supposed to be fun! He was supposed to rob these rich bitches! He was supposed to rob them blind.

But nobody brought the stupid bow!

All of his plans hinged on that bow. They shouldn't have, it was a terrible idea for him to rely on a tool that neither he nor Mord knew how to use, but that doesn't change the fact that they did.

This was their seventh casino.

Seventh!

They'd been kicked out of six and all he'd been able to do was pull a lever on repeat and get his money like that.

Like a boring schmuck.

He wanted some excitement!

Bell glanced over at Mord whose eyes were now closed as he slept against the bar counter, completely oblivious to the disgruntled worker manning said bar. Well, he wasn't going to be of any help.

Instead, he turned his head to the poor employee who was still bashing his head into the machine. He'd actually made a considerable dent into the metal, Bell was impressed. He poked the boy in the shoulder to get his attention and waved shyly at him as the kid looked at him with dead eyes.

"Do you guys have anything more fun to play?"

".. "

"Like ski ball maybe?"

Bell had always wanted to play ski ball, he'd heard about it from Hermes and as much as a scum bag as the man was, it did sound like a fun game to play.

".. "

He was just going to take the silence as a no.

A damn shame.

What else?

He played roulette last time and was over it.

He could play a card game, but he couldn't be bothered to learn the rules, it was just way too much work. Then again, he'd probably just get a perfect hand regardless of what happened.

The luck ability kind of sucks the joy out of it.

He pulled the lever on the slot machine down and watched the small symbols fly by as the circles spun. Another slam startled him enough to get him to jump off his stool only to find the worker had just gone back to bludgeoning the box with his forehead.

Maybe he should offer the poor guy some of his winnings.

He's already made what, one-hundred and seventy million valis? He'd need to give some of it away to Mord and Naaza, but most of it was going back to Hestia's debt. Surely, he could spare a little for the kid who was probably going to lose his job for all of the money the casino had lost to his falna.

Bell pulled the lever once again, not even paying attention to what three symbols lined up on his previous spin, and chuckled dryly at the worker's stare. He rubbed the back of his head sheepishly and smiled, "must have just hopped on at the right time. Somebody else must have worked all of the bad mojo out of it."

One eyebrow raised up their forehead as they gave a pointed look to the pile of chips that surrounded the feet of Bell's stool, towering high enough to almost be level with his butt. Bell's legs were actually fully submerged up to just below his knee due to the overflow of winnings.

He paused when he looked down at the mound.

He could think of a better way to use all of these coins.

And it came with the bonus of actually Robin Hooding some rich people.

He pulled his legs out of the pile of chips, sending many tumbling down the sides of the mound. He brought his feet up onto his stool and stood tall. He cupped his hand up to the side of his mouth and prepared to give a loud shout.

The worker beside him already bolted away, he didn't know what the white-haired kid who had single-handedly likely bankrupt the casino was planning but he wanted nothing to do with it. He'd rather be caught playing hooky than be the one who tried to get 'Rabbit Foot' of all people to pipe down.

An insane adventurer with a death wish and crazy luck or one angry manager who may or may not fire him?

Who was he kidding, he'd be fired either way, may as well make the process as painless as possible.

He heard the shout as he slipped through the 'employees only' doors and disappeared from the casino floors and didn't look back for an instant.

"WHO WANTS TO MAKE A BET?"

Should he have warned the people of what they would bring upon themselves if they agreed? Nah.

They were dicks.

Rich people could suck it with their uppity attitudes and their stupid monocles. Who even designed monocles? Completely impractical.

Just take your glasses when you don't need them and put them on when you do, don't pull this half-glasses bullshit where you spend half your time trying to keep your face the perfect amount of clenched for the monocle to stay in.

It's stupid.

Kami, he hated his job.

Back with three of the deadly sins: sloth, greed, and boredom, a crowd immediately formed around the massive pile of chips. Bell could see a few of them being knicked by some people with rather sticky fingers but he couldn't find it within himself to care, he'd make a killing either way.

Mord was still asleep with the bartender periodically hosing him down with a squirt bottle to no avail and Naaza was very much still playing in their previous winnings. Bell was decently sure she was trying to make a snow angel but with valis? He didn't understand women.

He clapped his hands together and silenced the gathered people. It didn't silence the casino workers who were desperately trying to break apart the crowd and get security into likely throw him out, but they couldn't even get the crowd to budge so that didn't matter.

"Alright, so how this is going to work is I'll pick one of you in the crowd who will give us a scenario that could happen right here, right now and we'll all bet on it. Those who get it right will split the pot. Got it?"

Somebody raised their hand in the back and Bell pointed over at them, "yeah?"

"Do we all bet the same amount?"

"Uhhh.. let's go with yes so we don't have to worry about the math. What should the ante be?"

".. "

".. "

"Cool, how's fifty thousand valis sound?"

There had to be at least a hundred people surrounding him, maybe more. If they did fifty-thousand then he had the possibility to make half a million when people give really unlikely scenarios, that's work for him.

Nobody seemed to disagree with the price to go in which was a little shocking if he was honest.

Fifty-thousand?! They're actually okay with that?

Bell groaned internally but didn't let his displeasure show on his face. These people were all so rich. Still, he had to smile to keep them here, and he was nothing if not an entertainer. Sure, he much preferred the storytelling medium (it's where he truly shined) but this could be seen as a decent alternative.

"Who would like to start us off? Aha! You back there in the purple cardigan! Yes! You! No, I'm not colorblind. Yes, that is purple. Audience, is that purple? See it's purple? Oh– and he's crying. My bad. How about you in the green dress?"

He pointed over to a small girl who was jumping up and down with her hand waving in the air, the men around her towered so far above her head that he almost didn't see her. The little girl shoved her way through the crowd, throwing more elbows than he'd ever seen and hitting many-a nobles in their family jewels. She climbed onto the first layer of chips and gave a toothy smile up at him.

She was missing several of her teeth, giving him a new view of her tongue as she grinned.

Seriously, how old was this kid and how's she get in here?

"I bet," she turned around pointed to some old man with grey hair and skin wrinkled around his mouth from decades of frowning. He looked like the only thing keeping him going was spite, which Bell could respect. His lips curled downward as the little girl in her cute little green dress pointed her finger at him and proudly declared that "he will have a bird poop on his head."

Bell couldn't help it; he clamped a hand over his stomach as he fell down into his pile of casino chips and cackled. The girl smiled proudly from beside him, her hands planted firmly on her hips with her tail wagging back and forth under her skirt.

Bell wiped a tear from his eye and smiled at the girl who seemed to be enjoying the looks of disdain that marred the faces of the old men who surrounded them as much as he was. He climbed back onto his stool and nodded to her, "alright, raise your hand if you think that man," he pointed to the still frowning man, "will have a bird poop on his head."

Needless to say, only Bell and the random child rose their hands. They were inside a high-class casino, of course, no bird would have gotten inside. Every other hand went up when the call for those who did not think it would happen came.

The old man frowned all the while.

Even as a chunky, white liquid ran down the side of his face.

He did not once move from his spot. His frown did not once leave his face.

He never even stopped voting.

He just sat there, with bird poop running down his temple and onto his cheek.

It was glorious.

Bell robbed those rich bitches blind, he and his (random) co-conspirator who continuously wiped the floor in their betting game. Eventually, even Mord and Naaza joined in, slipping through the ranks of the crowd and whispering horrible ideas into their ears.

The hero of the story was quick to drop off large sums of money at various places throughout Orario. Maria's orphanage received the most, naturally, but he was sure to give a little to the people who frequented Penia's old watering ground. The goddess of poverty was dead now, but the people who put their faith in her still came, so he'd help. He dropped even more off in the Blue Pharmacy, sure Naaza already had way more than she or Miach needed to pay off their debt, but they deserved more. Plus, Daphne and Cassandra would need some support.

The Miach familia would come to use that money to its fullest and quickly rise through the ranks of the mercantile familias of Orario.

He also made sure to make substantial donations to the few libraries and toy stores that lined the streets of the dungeon city. It was almost sad how little access kids had to free entertainment and he'd do anything he could to keep those kids out of the dungeon. Sacrificing some valis to keep them safe was the least of his worries.

It wasn't until Bell deposited a sack of valis outside of a certain casino worker's home who mysteriously ran away in the middle of the night that he realized something.

That girl.

The one in the green dress.

With the toothy smile.

Her tail..

It wasn't a chienethrope's tail..

No..

He'd seen the tail she had enough around the Hearth Mansion to know what race it belonged to.

The Renards.

And..

And.. her fur was orange..

Like..

Like.. Robin Hood..

Bell bobbed his head back and forth from where he sat down on Hestia's mattress, the soles of his feet were pressed together and he was slapping his hands up and down in his lap. He nodded once, seemingly content with the ending of the story.

"So, yeah. That's how my lucky ability hit 'S.'"

The goddess was half hanging out of her window, the stars twinkling overhead as Bell finished recanting his story complete with voice changes for each character (she'd add impressions to the list of talents Bell does not have) and sing-a-longs. Though, she wasn't sure if she could really call them that if she didn't actually sing-a-long.

It'd taken soo long.

Honestly, at this point, she didn't even care that he paid her debt behind her back, just so long as he got out. She wanted peace. She wanted to be alone. She wanted to hear absolutely nothing for a week.

She needed a vacation.


Author Notes:

Another 3-hour writing story for some random one-shot, this time it was not out of spite! So, turns out that's not necessary. Hope you enjoyed it, I guess. Pretty sure I just dissociated after starting and then it was done; can't even say for certain if it was good or not.

It was mostly inspired by a request by Alexei Borodon, so here's that for you man. Nobody else expect for any requests you give to be completed, if they're an idea I like or I can work with then maybe, but other than that I've got enough stories going as is.

Peace out.