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Chapter Text

Chapter 1: A Blood Debt Owed

The first thing I notice is that the ceiling is wrong—not unfamiliar, but completely wrong. Smooth white plaster instead of rotting wood beams. No cracks spider-webbing across it like battle scars, no water stains mapping out the slow decay of another safehouse.

I sit up too fast, and the world tilts sideways. My hands grip sheets so soft they feel like liquid. The room around me is cramped but clean. Walls covered in posters of half-naked women in poses that would make even the most debauched Imperial nobles blush. There’s a shrine in the corner dedicated to some kind of figurine, and my stomach churns with recognition I don’t want.

Issei Hyoudou. The name brings with it a flood of memories that aren’t mine. A boy obsessed with breasts and panties and dreams of a harem. And then I remember Yuuma. The fallen angel with dark wings and a sweet smile, who killed me on our first date.

His first date. Him. Not me. I’m not dead. Or I am, but I didn’t die the way he did. I died on a battlefield in the Capital, with the Emperor’s Imperial Arms moments away from grinding me into the earth. The last thing I saw were Akame’s eyes. Sad and certain that I’d broken my promise to her.

I hadn’t intentionally tried to die, but regret was something I thought I wouldn’t feel for long. Our efforts and sacrifices—my life—saved the world from an eternity of tyranny.

But this isn’t my body. Its feelings are Issei Hyoudou’s. He’s dead, and all that remains are his memories… and me. At least I saved those civilians from being crushed to death by that puppet emperor before I went out.

I drag myself out of bed. My legs are unsteady for the long moment that it takes me to recalibrate. I’m softer around the edges and untouched by the years and years of training I’ve been through.

But the body moves when I tell it to, so it’ll have to do.

The mirror in the corner shows me brown eyes instead of green. No scars on me either. Despite being close enough to me in age, Issei lived in a world soft enough that his greatest concern was whether girls might someday find him attractive despite his slightly twisted personality.

It’s adorable, in a pitiful kind of way. Until it reminds me of the woman who exploited his naïvete. Perversion aside, I can tell Issei Hyoudou’s desire for love got him killed by the first girl who smiled at him.

This body’s instincts guide me through the motions, where my knowledge seems consumed by Issei’s manner of death. I know where his clothes are, that he has breakfast with caring parents who’ll summon him downstairs for food soon, and nearly flinch when an angry girl’s voice threatens to kill me if I don’t wake up.

Then, I remember that it’s an alarm clock and turn it off.

Breakfast is a surreal experience. Two concerned parents are easy to deal with compared to Esdeath. As much as one part of me notes the absurdness of my circumstance, the other swells with affection for these people who’ve committed themselves to raising me.

“Have a good day at school, son,” Issei’s mother says.

I stand at the door with his back slung across my shoulders. His father meets my gaze and smiles.

A swirling guilt takes its place somewhere between my chest and stomach.

School is a maze of corridors and classrooms. My peers worry about tests and crushes and strange social hierarchies that I’m not used to yet. I sit through lessons on subjects that mean nothing to me and listen, because this normalcy is precious.

Normal…

This couldn’t be further from my normal. The suspicious, half-lidded stares from the girls towards me in the breaks between classes, the useless quizzes and worksheets spread around the class.

Homework.

Then lunch comes, and Matsuda and Motohama—Issei’s friends, though they remind me of Lubbock—drag me toward the sports field to watch the kendo club girls changing out of their uniforms.

“Come on, Issei!” Motohama says as he pulls at my sleeve. “We’ve only got fifteen minutes here if we want enough time to grab something to eat before the canteen closes!”

“Actually,” I say, pulling away. “Maybe we shouldn’t—”

“What?” Matsuda stops to turn and stares at me like I’ve grown a second head. “Are you feeling okay? You’re telling me you don’t want to catch a glimpse of the kendo girls’ hot bodies?”

“I just think… it’s not right, you know?”

Both of them gape at me. Matsuda reaches out to feel my forehead. “Dude, are you running a fever? Since when do you care about—”

“Forget it!” Motohama pulls me by the wrist. “He’ll feel alright once he sees Murayama’s abs.”

Matsuda wrinkles his nose. “Dude, wipe your chin. You’re drooling.”

“Oh.” Motohama pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose and dabs at his jaw with a tissue. “My bad.”

I want to argue. I really do. But something in me flickers—a dull echo of Issei’s memories—and I realise resistance might look suspicious. So I follow, not because I want to, but because letting their current pull me is easier than explaining how I’m not the who they think I am.

We crouch behind bushes near the side of the gymnasium. The girls of the kendo club are just finishing up drills, stretching and chatting casually in the late sun while they get changed. Half of them are down to their underwear.

My stomach churns as I step away. This isn’t like watching for patrols or scouting for ambushes.

It’s pathetic.

“Move, dude!”

Motohama and Matsuda jostle over the view through the shutter.

“H-Hey!” Motohama pushes his head against Matsuda’s. “This is the best angle to see Katase’s jiggling—”

“Can we not be so loud?” I ask. “You’re going to get caught.”

“Only if we’re slow—like you.” Matusda throws me a look over his shoulder as he barges Motohama out of the way slightly too hard.

Motohama yelps as he falls. My curse cuts the silence. One of the girls turns and looks through the open shutter window.

“There!” someone yells.

They scramble for their skirts and shirts. Wooden swords are already in their hands before I can process what’s happening.

“Run!” Matsuda shouts, diving left.

Motohama bolts right.

I rise to move, so damn slow—

“Hyoudou, you perverted bastard!” A wooden practice sword whistles through the air. I duck, but the second strike clips my shoulder.

Reflex takes over. I pivot, grab the shaft mid-swing, and twist. Not enough to break it—but enough to knock the girl off-balance. She stumbles and lands hard. Winded. Her teammates rush to her side, glowering at the sword in my hand.

“Hyoudou tried to make a pass at her!”

“No—I—” I try to explain, but my voice dies in my throat. There’s no point.

I didn’t want to be here, but I am. That makes me guilty by association. I’m not even Tatsumi anymore, I’m Issei Hyoudou.

There’s no convincing them.

A pink-haired girl steps forward and taps her wooden sword against her shoulder. “Club rule number five: perverts get paddled.”

“Hold on—” I backpedal, raising both hands. “I didn’t even see anything.”

“Oh, so you just happened to be crouched under the gym window? With your rep?”

Another girl joins her. Then another. The circle tightens.

“C’mon, don’t beat him up too hard,” the pink-haired girl says, clearly enjoying this a bit too much.

The first swings.

I sidestep, barely. “Hey, this is excessive—”

Another practice sword cracks through the air toward my ribs. I twist, catch, and pull. Her foot tangles with mine, and she goes down hard.

“Kaori!” someone gasps.

The wood splinters in my grip. A sharp edge nicks my palm.

“You… you hurt her,” one whispers.

Kaori groans, clutching her side. I freeze. The other girls’ eyes are wide. My stomach twists. It’s not like I killed her, but there’s no point explaining. No way to fix this either, so I run. Let them think what they want. I’ll make it right eventually. Somehow.

But even as I leave, I glance back at the girl I knocked over. She’s nursing her side, jaw clenched, glaring daggers. I sprint around the gym and through the side gate, lungs tight—not with exhaustion, but shame.

Motohama and Matsuda are sweating when I arrive.

“Why were you so slow?” Matsuda asks before shrugging. “Ah, well. Them’s the rules. If you get caught peeping and don’t escape, you get hit.”

Motohama pats me down for injury. “You alright?”

I don’t know what to say, so I shrug in reply.

“Oh my,” says a voice like silk. “What interesting friends you have, Hyoudou.”

I turn to see a girl that my memories confirm to be Rias Gremory walking past. She’s something of a role model to students here, as well as the object of their affection because she’s from abroad and wealthy.

Her crimson hair catches the daytime light like liquid fire. Her blue eyes meet mine, and the weight of a mountain descends on me. She blinks, and the feeling fades. I’m not sure whether the sensation is an effect of my resurrection or if it’s some strange power of hers.

Amused recognition flickers in her gaze, though I’m certain we’ve never met. She smiles, a small, knowing curve of her lips, and continues on.

“Holy shit,” Matsuda breathes in her fading floral scent. “Did Rias Gremory just talk to you?”

“Dude, she knew your name!” Motohama adds.

I shake my head, still staring after her retreating figure. “...I don’t think I know her.”

“Man,” Matsuda says, abandoning all thoughts of peeping. “Rias Gremory. If she knows you exist, maybe we have a shot with someone who isn’t inflatable.”

Their crude jokes fade into background noise.

Whatever that pressure was couldn’t have just been a trick of my mind, and yet I can’t think of any other explanation for it. Nothing except the remembrance of Yuuma driving a spear of solid light through Issei’s stomach.

The rest of the day passes in a haze of distracted thoughts. That encounter with Rias Gremory replays in my mind. The pressure I felt reminds me of the aura that surrounded the strongest Imperial Arms users. A power so overwhelming it became a physical weight.

Murayama, the girl I accidentally hurt, and the pink-haired one, unfortunately, are my classmates, but it’s easy to ignore their stares.

When the final bell rings, I’m ready to head straight home and rest. The walk should take twenty minutes, but as the sun begins to paint the sky in shades of gold and crimson, something strange happens.

Energy courses through me instead of the exhaustion I should feel after a day as draining as this.

Without thinking, I break into a run.

The streets blur past me faster than they should. My legs pump with a familiar rhythm despite this body’s lack of conditioning. The burn in my lungs never comes. I surpass even that rhythm soon enough. Instead, the power building inside me grows stronger with each step, like I’m drawing strength from the dying light.

By the time I reach my neighbourhood, the sun has nearly set, and I’m not even winded. More than that, I feel incredible. Energised in a way that doesn’t make sense for someone who’s just run at a breakneck pace that should have left me gasping.

Instead of going inside, I turn around and head back out, this time taking the longer route through the town’s outer districts. As full darkness falls, the sensation only intensifies, as if the night itself fills me with strength enough that my endurance is beyond human.

So, I run as far as my legs will take me until I realise I’m being followed. I make three left turns at top speed to make sure my suspicions aren’t unfounded before looking over my shoulder.

How has he managed to keep up? There’s a wrongness to the way he holds himself despite his unassuming workman’s attire. Bloodthirst hidden behind a civilised exterior. When he gets close enough for me to see his face, his lips curve into a smile.

“Well, well,” he says, loud enough for the words to reach me. He tilts his head back and seems to sniff the air. “What are you doing so far from home, little devil. Why so weak? Have you no master to protect you?”

I slow, but don’t stop walking. “I think you have me confused with someone else.”

“Do I?” He tilts his head back and inhales. “No, your stench is unmistakable.”

This man’s demeanour sets me on edge. I move to cross the road instead of having him directly at my back, but he crosses the road with me.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say.

He laughs, and the sound is like breaking glass. Dark, feathered wings burst free from his back. The words to summon my Demon Armour form on my lips before I remember I no longer possess Incursio.

I reach for it anyway because to do nothing is to accept death, and to do that is to break my promise to Akame. Even if it’s useless in this new world, I don’t plan on doing that a second time. 

Besides, my superhuman strength inspires some hope that Bulat’s treasured weapon is still with me somehow.

“Incursio,” I mutter words laden with expectation. The winged man frowns at the words for a moment before a swell of heat races up by torso.

A red claw materialises over my left arm in a burst of emerald light, and power floods through me.

“BOOST!”

My attacker’s eyes widen. “A devil with a sacred gear? What master do you serve, you—”

I don’t let him finish. The so-called boost narrows the gap between my mind and body. He lunges, and I counter his swipe with a punch that catches him on the jaw. Surprise and a stagger replace the predatory confidence on his face.

The principles of fighting superior opponents are the same. Balance. Timing. Wait for the enemy to make mistakes. He comes at me again, faster this time, claws extending from his fingertips like silver knives.

I slip his attack, and lean an elbow into his ribs that makes him grunt in pain. His follow-up is too wide, and when I kick his right leg, he doubles over. For a moment, I think this might be easier than expected, but then he gets angry.

His wings flare wide, and light erupts from his hands. Purer than the glow of sunlight and hot enough that it burns white and makes my skin crawl. It crackles with power that strikes familiarity in me even as I steady my feet to escape. The light that killed Issei Hyoudou forms in his grip.

When he thrusts it toward my chest, I try to dodge, but the point tears through my shirt and into flesh before I can twitch. Blood runs down my chest, hot and sticky. The strength the night had given me plummets, replaced by the cold weakness of approaching death.

This is how Issei died, I realise as I fall to my knees. The emotions that run like sludge in my veins aren’t wholly mine. When put in the same situation that Issei Hyoudou had been in the night before, my body remembers the shock, the pain, and the desperate wish that someone, anyone, would save him.

In my mind’s eye, I see hair like liquid fire. The spear comes down and stops inches from my heart. Crimson light blazes around me and paints the world in shades of blood.

The winged man staggers, and his weapon dissolves in his grip like smoke. “What—”

Rias Gremory stands even more beautiful and terrible in the darkness than she was in daylight. The power from earlier radiates from her in waves, making the very air tremble.

“Fallen,” she says. “You certainly overstep.”

The so-called Fallen takes another step back. “This doesn’t concern you, Gremory. The is a stray that’s wandered too far. He’s—”

“No stray. Did you think you could kill one of my servants without consequence?”

I want to protest the label, but the blood loss is making everything fuzzy around the edges. The world tilts sideways, and I realise I’m falling—or rather, dying.

Her arms catch me before I hit the ground. The man she called Fallen seems to have escaped.

Rias kneels beside me. “Sleep,” she whispers, one hand pressed against my chest where the spear went through. “You’re safe now.”

Darkness claims me, but not before I feel the warmth of her power washing over me. Mending what was broken and calling me back from the edge of death.

—⧬⧭⧬—

I dream of a sea of red and a mountain of moulting scales that glint like wet blood under the sky. They rise and fall like waves, each one larger than the last, until I realise I’m not standing on anything—I’m floating, or maybe drowning, in an ocean of armour and sinew.

My throat is parched. My tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth like it’s been baked dry. I try to breathe, but the air here is heavy with the stench of iron and fire.

“Is this hell?” I mutter.

“No,” says a deep voice. It comes from the mass of red scales before and all around me. I look up at a slitted green eye, larger than any man. “Though I’m not offended by the comparison.”

The rest of him rises from the sea slowly: a second eye joins the first, and then the curve of a brow, the suggestion of a snout. Each scale is as broad as a shield and marked with old battle scars.

This dragon is by far larger than Shikotauzer—the Emperor’s Imperial Arms—and the weight of its gaze presses the air from my lungs.

“Why can you talk?” I ask, but then I find the question silly. To return from death and ask why a dragon can talk is silly, so I hurry to ask, “Who are you?”

“That depends,” the dragon replies. He isn’t cruel, but his voice holds an old, amused disdain. “Who are you? You look nothing like the boy whose body you command.”

I hesitate and then look down at my body. My body, not Issei Hyoudou’s, is as ghostly as the reflection in the murky red waters below. But very clearly not Issei.

“I’m Tatsumi. Issei Hyoudou is dead, and it seems I took his place.

The great head lowers, nostrils flaring to smell me. “You are a soul with revolution in your bones.”

“...How would you know?”

“I’ve seen it all through your eyes,” the dragon says. “The corrupt Empire and your revolution. You died an honourable death.”

“Thank you,” I say, failing to say anything else. There’s nothing honourable about bringing a dear friend to tears with my death… but at least those innocent people didn’t die.

“My name is Ddraig, Tatsumi.” A flick of his tail sends a massive wave crashing across the red sea. “The Red Dragon Emperor of Domination. My being resides with the gauntlet you summoned against the Fallen Angel. It is a Sacred Gear, not unlike the Imperial Arms of your world, except I am bonded to your very soul. Or rather, the strange amalgamation of you and the dregs of Issei Hyoudou that remain.”

I blink with realisation. “You’re the voice I heard. The one that… boosted me? And a fallen angel? I thought ’Fallen’ was the man’s name.”

Ddraig chuckles. “No. I believe he called himself Dohnaseek. Then he fled. There is much for you to learn, which I’m sure you will soon. We will talk again, Tatsumi.”

“How is all of this happening? I’m an ordinary human, aren’t I?” I ask.

The red sea begins to churn violently, frothing with energy. The sky above cracks open with green fire that consumes my vision.

“Not since that Gremory girl brought you back to life. You’re a devil now,” Ddraig says, though it sounds like a roar amidst the blaze around us. “And know this, Tatsumi: you have a duty you must fulfil now that you possess this body. That fallen sow must pay for killing Issei Hyoudou. Perversions aside, he was fated to wield my power. Swear it to me.”

A devil—that’s the same thing that Dohnaseek guy called me. Maybe it’s more than metaphorical.

“I promise,” I say. “He didn’t deserve to die.”

Then, green flames consume the world.

—⧬⧭⧬—

I come back to heat pressed into my skin and a breath against the back of my neck. Then the light, thick and golden, hits my eyelids. I breathe, and the air sticks to me. My ribs rise too easily, like my chest was never run through, so I force my eyes open.

Everything smells like flowers and heat.

A mass shifts beside me. I turn my head, and there she is. Rias Gremory, naked and reclining on her side like a queen sculpted out of soft light, one leg draped over the sheets, the other pulled in just enough to catch the eye.

She’s watching me with an interest that sets me on edge. The sheet barely covers her hips. Her chest rises with a slow breath. I let my gaze rest on her for a moment. One heartbeat. Two. Then I sit up moments before realising I’m also naked.

She still hasn’t said a word. Maybe she wants me to speak first. Perhaps she’s waiting to see if I crack a joke, or stare too long at her breasts, or if I flush and stumble and ask where I am like a lost child, as Issei would.

I don’t, though, because I recognise the manipulation for what it is. She’s not the first who’s tried to own me with sensuality and softness. It’s easier to pick up on now… not that it’s any less distracting.

I let the silence stretch and grow heavy between us before I say anything. She shifts again, just slightly—enough to tilt her hips, enough to catch the light in the hollow between her thighs. 

Issei Hyoudou was a pervert who took any opportunity to exercise his lust. But I look up at the ceiling and release a quiet exhale.

Ddraig said she resurrected me after I died in Akame’s arms, but for what purpose? To be her servant? What would being a devil’s servant even entail?

“How did I get here? Wasn’t I bleeding out?” I ask her.

Her eyes narrow, just slightly. Interesting. She shifts again to sit up. One leg folds beneath her, the other slides forward with casual elegance, baring even more than before. Her arms stretch behind her, arching her back just so as she yawns.

Her smile touches the corner of her mouth. “You’re very much alive, aren’t you?”

“What are you doing here? Why am I not dead? I’m certain that winged bastard stabbed me… it definitely felt real.”

“May I use your bathroom?” Rias Gremory smiles at my frown. “Last night left me in quite the state. To heal you, I had to sleep naked beside you. Doing so was quite taxing on my body, you know.”

I stand up with my back to her to hide the heat on my face and to hopefully curtail the heat flowing downward. “...Stay here. I need to bathe too, but if you go, my parents will wake up once you’re done. You’ll have to wait until you go back home.”

Parents. It’s still a strange word on my tongue.

“I suppose we’ll have to wash ourselves together then,” she says.

I turn in shock. Her blue eyes swell with triumph at my lack of a retort. In one fluid step, she clears the bed and is so close to me that I can feel the barest press of her chest against mine. Heat burns in my gut, and I spin to reach for a towel.

As uncomfortable as this entire situation is, if I give an inch, I know she’ll take a yard instead. This Rias Gremory is like all the worst and best parts of Esdeath and Leone. She doesn’t seem malicious, but she’s obviously aware of the effect her body has on people.

Though I should probably stop thinking of her as harmless when she’s trying to seduce me.

“I-It’s alright. Just be quick,” I say, and take a seat on the bed, throwing the towel at her.

She smiles. “Oh? How gentlemanly of you. Don’t worry, I’ll be out before you know it.”

Rias Gremory keeps her promise, and I slip into the bathroom before Issei’s parents can beat me to it.

The water runs too hot and pours out of the ceiling. I let it scald.

Despite saving me, her seduction fills my mouth with a bad taste. What did she bring me here for? Her way of going straight for seduction while hiding her motivations reminds me of the girl who cruelly murdered Issei Hyoudou after taking advantage of his innocence.

I brace one hand against the tiled wall, lower my head beneath the spray, and exhale. He didn’t deserve his death. Tricked and then killed with his heart in his throat, still hoping the girl he loved wasn’t a monster.

I remember having that kind of naïve, dangerous, but beautiful hope in people when I first arrived at the Capital. And now it’s mine. His body. His heart. His name.

Even if Ddraig hadn’t asked, I would have avenged him. Because it’s as close a purpose as I might have for now.

Rias ambushes me as soon as I return. Water drips down between us. Her body presses deliberately close again. Long red locks stick to my face until I brush them away, and push their owner away more gently.

She hides behind an amused giggle.

Maybe I’m being too harsh with her and, like Leone, she enjoys teasing people with her body. She saved me from dying to that winged man, after all. But at the same time, I have the feeling Rias Gremory seems to think she’s gained a pawn.

But I know better. The moment I felt the weight of someone else’s sacrifice behind my second heartbeat, I knew better. The debt she thinks she’s bought with my life is not hers to spend. It is one I owe to Issei Hyoudou—as perverted as he was—that didn’t come for free.

And before anything, I intend to pay it back in full.

Chapter Text

Chapter 2: The Pretence of Peerage

Issei’s parents walk in on Rias Gremory and me. His mother gasps. His father blinks. It’s by no means a dramatic entrance. I don’t even hear them coming; they just open the door, and there we are: me, down to my underwear and damp, with a towel over my shoulder and Rias behind me, still drying her hair.

She’s not even pretending to be flustered despite her nudity.

There’s a long silence after which Issei’s father smiles a small, tight smile that says far too much. Relief, pride, and a faint exhale of long-held worry show on his aged face. Like he’s realised his son’s corruption is ordinary, forgivable. Not deep enough to keep him alone forever. I suppose it wasn’t, but the look is uncomfortable when I’m not his son.

Issei’s mother lets out a scandalised little noise that sounds rehearsed. “Issei!” she snaps. “You’re—this is—” Her eyes dart to Rias, who calmly wraps a strand of her wet crimson hair around one finger and says, with perfect composure:

“Forgive us, ma’am. He and I were... caught up. This is how teenagers sleep these days, you see. I promise, we weren’t doing anything lewd.”

I don’t speak. I should—it’s a ridiculous answer—but I don’t. I watch Issei’s mother’s outrage soften at a reply that shouldn’t warrant that kind of pause.

Her mouth is still open, but she seems unsure of what to say. “Well... I suppose we’re out of touch with the kids of today, I suppose.”

The bizarre agreement aside, I know something’s wrong in the way her posture eases and how her tone becomes so docile. Both her and her husband’s eyes seemed slightly glazed over, and only after Rias spoke.

Issei’s father speaks again, but he’s already walking away: “Join us for breakfast when you’re ready, son. And bring your friend. We’d love to get to know her.”

“Of course,” Rias replies with a smile.

They shut the door behind them. I don’t move for several seconds until I’m sure they’re gone and silence settles. I turn on Rias. She doesn’t have time to react. One hand slams against the wall beside her head. She steps back more out of shock than fear. Her red hair fans slightly with the sudden force of movement.

Her blue eyes meet mine.

“You did something to them,” I say.

“I soothed them,” Rias replies. “They weren’t harmed. Did you want your mother to panic? To scream and shame you? She would have and was very much going to. I softened the landing. That’s all.”

“That’s not your call to mess with their minds just because you can. They’re...” I stop to swallow my guilt. “They’re my parents. Do you have no concept of violation? What if I’d done that to your parents?”

A pause. Her composed expression flickers—just once. A hairline crack that allows some guilt to spill through. Claiming Issei’s parents as my own isn’t something I’ll ever be comfortable with—but I have some duty of care for them now that their son’s life is mine.

“You’re angry,” she notes slowly.

I lean in. “This is your one warning: don’t do that to them again.”

Her lips part like she might argue, but reading something in my eyes, she reconsiders and bows to me with her hands over her thighs. “I apologise, Hyoudou. It’s easy to forget sometimes that what’s convenient isn’t right.”

Her remorse at crossing a line seems genuine, so I drop the matter, but breakfast is tense. Light returns to Issei’s parents’ eyes along with the tension of finding their son naked with a girl who presumably spent the night.

“...Are you my son’s girlfriend?” Issei’s mother asks as she stirs a cup of coffee without looking at it. Her tone is even, but her eyes betray the struggle to make sense of what she walked in on.

Thankfully, Rias is dressed in her school uniform. I swallow a spoonful of cereal instead of answering the question in her stead.

Rias offers her a pleasant smile. “I suppose you could say that.”

Issei’s father says little. He keeps giving me these glances and small nods of approval over the edge of his newspaper that remind me I’m wrapped in a second skin.

I eat quietly. I haven’t had cereal before. It’s got a kind of cathartic crunch to it and a grainy taste that’s pleasant enough to distract me from the awkward meal.

Rias insists on walking with me to school.

“People will talk,” I say.

She smiles and leans her shoulder into mine. “You heard your mother, Issei. I’m your girlfriend, am I not?”

I lean away from her, making her giggle.

Of course, the school’s reaction proves me right. Eyes are already on us before we even pass through the front gate. I keep my head up but don’t acknowledge anyone. Issei’s reputation precedes me anyway. Whispers trail in our wake, and every stare carries a specific kind of confusion.

Like they’re trying to do the mental calculations, only to arrive at the same conclusion: our presence together doesn’t add up.

Matsuda and Motohama corner me during the half hour before school proper starts. Their energy is the same—loud and completely unashamed. They talk fast, with too much excitement, asking whether I’ve finally made it, whether I touched her, whether I’ve ascended to a plane beyond mortal comprehension.

It’s ridiculous, but also kind of funny. I don’t stop them, because they’re like Lubbock, except alive. A smile tugs at my mouth when Matsuda starts theorising that I’ve unlocked a divine pervert technique that granted me access to heaven’s gates.

Still, I don’t egg them on the way Issei would, and the message lands with grumbles that a night with Rias Gremory has changed me—they’re not wrong, either.

Classes blur by. I don’t pay much attention to the lessons themselves, and when the final bell rings, I rise with the rest of them. When I’m halfway to the door, someone stops the procession by sticking their head into the classroom through it.

His look is distinct; foreign to those of this country, like Rias, with wheat-blond hair.

“Hyoudou,” he says after his grey eyes find me. “I’ve come on Rias Gremory’s instructions.”

And just like that, the room has returned to its frenzied state from the morning. Only in reverse. This time, it’s the boys who gape while the girls whisper ferociously to one another. I sling my bag over one shoulder and walk to the door without a word.

Kiba gives me an apologetic nod. “I’m sorry about the spectacle. My name is Yuuto Kiba. I’m a second year, like you.”

Like Rias, he’s adored by everyone because of his distinct look: the first and second-year girls fawn over him, and the older third-year girls dote on him.

“Nice to meet you, too.”

My sigh is tired enough that he laughs. I follow him down the hallway, aware of every stare burning holes into my back. I don’t shrink from them.

They’re not looking at me anyway.

—⧬⧭⧬—

After taking me out of the school building and past the old gymnasium, Kiba stops in front of the now-defunct old school building with a plate that says Occult Research Club. Shrubbery clings to the low roof and walls and crawls in through an open window up above.

It seems carefully maintained, though, with hedges boxing in the paved, if derelict, entryway—case in point, to the right of the entryway is a vending machine.

“President, I’ve brought him,” Kiba says after knocking on the front door once.

“All right, come in,” is Rias Gremory’s response.

I could not have been more ill-prepared for the building’s interior. It’s almost identical to a regular home, if a lot more spacious. A staircase runs along the right side and up to the other floors, and a hallway runs along the left.

Only the first door is open, and predictably, Kiba leads me through it. A short, white-haired girl with eyes the colour of toffee is sitting on the sofa facing the door.

“This is Issei Hyoudou,” Kiba says to her.

She stops her nibbling on a sweet to bob her head. “Hi. Koneko Toujou. First year.”

“Nice to meet you,” I say, though I’m distracted by the constant hiss of water nearby until I notice a curtain sectioning off the far end of the room.

“Here you go, President.” The voice is decidedly not Rias Gremory’s.

Though Rias replies, “Thank you, Akeno.” After a few minutes, the curtain snaps open. Rias, having finished showering, smiles at me in her uniform. “My apologies for the wait. I know I showered at your place this morning, but I like to keep clean.”

“Oh dear, President. What were you doing with Hyoudou last night?” says the other voice I heard. But now that the curtain is drawn open, I can see that she’s a dark-haired girl with a permanent, pleasant smile on her face.

Her eyes, however, are a shade of violet that seems slightly disturbing.

Rias laughs. “Behave, Akeno.”

“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Hyoudou. I’m Akeno Himejima,” the dark-haired girl says with a polite bow. “Would you like some tea?”

“Tea would be nice, if you’re offering.”

“I am.”

Rias moves past us and sits on the only armchair in the room, placed at the head of the low coffee table. The others do the same, and Himejima moves away from me to presumably make that cup of tea, so I do too.

“Now that everyone’s here, Hyoudou,” Rias says while looking straight at me. “We, the Occult Research Club, welcome you as a fellow devil.”

“That’s the second time someone’s called me a devil,” I say, accepting the tea and accompanying saucer. “Thank you, Himejima.”

“Please,” she says. “Call me Akeno.”

“Are you sure?”

Himejima giggles and sits next to me. “Very.”

“To be as blunt as possible, all of us are devils,” says Rias. Everyone in the room is staring at me now. “You look like you don’t believe me.”

I shrug. “It’s not that. These past few days have been incredibly strange. Just last night, a guy with dark wings called me a devil, too. But you guys look… well, human.”

Rias Gremory nods. “That man was a fallen angel, to be specific. He used to be an angel, but for his sins, he was banished to the underworld, where we devils and the fallen angels vie for dominance. Each of the two factions controls one portion of the underworld. Devils, like us, build our strength by forging contracts with humans and exacting payment. Angels, on the other hand, follow the will of Heaven, indiscriminately targeting us and the fallen angels alike. These three factions have been locked in eternal conflict since the beginning of time.”

“And this club?” I ask. “Is it a front for you to recruit other devils?”

“More or less.”

I’m quiet for a moment. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but while I’m grateful that you healed me last night, I don’t understand what you want from me.”

“Yuuma Amano,” Rias says. “She’s a fallen angel, too.”

“...That checks out. Why did she stab me?”

“She sought you out according to her mission, which was to confirm whether you possessed a Sacred Gear, weapons gifted to humanity by God.” Rias’s smile doesn’t disappear. “And she didn’t just stab you. She killed you. Now, look through your blazer’s pockets for me, will you?”

Inside my left pocket, I find a crumpled and slightly bloody piece of paper. The phrase ‘Your wishes granted!’ is scrawled over it, along with a weird circle on the back. On closer inspection, it’s similar in design to the huge one in the centre of the room.

“You summoned me using that. It’s one of our flyers that we hand out for those who have desires that cannot be realised in this world. On the brink of death, after having been attacked by the fallen angel, you called out to me. It must have been a truly powerful wish to summon me. Usually, Akeno or one of the others here would have responded instead.”

“You stopped me from dying?” I ask.

She shakes her head. “Not quite. Yuuma Amano killed you, but I brought you back to life as a devil. You are no longer a human being.”

The wave of information aside, I’ve at least learned one thing that clears up the mystery surrounding Rias Gremory: she believes that I’m still Issei Hyoudou.

Resurrection… No Imperial Arms could resurrect a dead person—I’d found that out the hard way.

“Issei, you have been reborn as a devil and are a part of my peerage.”

In the face of that statement, any question I was going to ask about the method behind her bringing me back to life is replaced by one greater question:

“Which means what exactly?”

Rias smiles. “That you are my servant, like everyone here.” And as if that bit of news wasn’t flooring enough, she leans over the coffee table separating my couch and hers until her mouth is right up against my ear. “Serve me and you’ll be in for a treat.”

A shiver races down my spine, but I’m not so distracted that I can’t see this situation for what it is. Had Issei been in my position, he would have leapt at the chance. Serving the most attractive girl in the school, who happens to be some kind of supernatural aristocrat?

It was the stuff of his wet dreams. That said, there was one immediate flaw to this all that I couldn’t help but point out.

“What if I don’t want to? Hypothetically speaking,” I say, hunching over and feigning a little embarrassment. Now that I know she hasn’t brought me back on purpose, Rias Gremory is slightly less intimidating than before. “I mean, don’t take this the wrong way. I’d love to serve a lady as attractive as yourself.”

Akeno giggles.

“But say that I didn’t. What would happen? Would you reverse whatever you did to bring me back?”

“You’ve already died once,” Rias says after a long pause. “Usually, you would go to the afterlife, but I brought you back using my Evil Pieces. Essentially, it’s a magical chess set that allows me to turn anyone into a devil under my service to create a peerage. Kiba is my Knight, Koneko is my Rook, and Akeno is my Queen.”

Boss used to play chess with Lubbock sometimes, so this, at least, is familiar to me. “Shouldn’t that mean you still have another knight, another rook, two bishops, and like eight pawns?”

“...I didn’t know you played chess, Hyoudou. It doesn’t seem to be the type of thing you’d like.”

“Motohama plays it sometimes.”

He doesn’t, but there’s no way she’d know that. Lubbock played chess, though.

“In any case, you’re right. My other Bishop piece is occupied, but I have one extra Rook and Knight. However, I brought you back to life with all of my Pawns.” She sets her teacup and saucer on the coffee table between us. “You were a part of my peerage from the moment I resurrected you. The only way for you to leave it would be trading you with another King’s Pawns—or death. That is the only way the pawn pieces I used to resurrect you will return to me. If you do choose to leave my peerage, though, you’ll become a stray devil.”

“That winged guy called me that. Is it a bad thing? Sounds like it is.”

“The underworld is a rather aristocratic place. Power and prestige are passed down, and there are many noble families, of which the Gremory family is one. To abandon your peerage is to slight your King and the noble house that you fight for; the punishment for that varies. And because you lose the consideration afforded to a member of a peerage, the other factions will kill you without hesitation.”

“So what? I’m a slave?”

Rias looks distinctly uncomfortable at the question, and I immediately feel glares from everyone in the room.

“Look, I’m not calling you a bad person,” I say, even as I start to understand this strange system for what it is. “But surely you see where I’m coming from, right? If there’s no way for me to give you this piece back besides dying for real this time, or being put under someone else’s command, then I’ll always be a pawn.”

“President isn’t like that,” says Koneko. Despite the monotone delivery, her eyes are burning.

I sigh. “Never said she was, but I guarantee you that there are devils in the underworld right now who are treating their peerage horribly. The issue isn’t with Rias Gremory here. You seem like a well-meaning person, by the way, but… I don’t know. From the outside looking in, this all seems way too skewed. At least tell me there are laws to stop Kings from abusing their servants?”

“It is illegal for a King to abuse their peerage. In cases of abuse, any unused evil pieces are revoked and the peerage are made into ordinary citizens.” Rias looks away from my eyes. “But I can’t say in good conscience that abuse against peerage members doesn’t happen.”

I can’t claim to have as much knowledge of this world’s atrocities as I do mine, but across my life, I’ve picked up a sixth sense for corruption. The idea of noblesse oblige never stopped the aristocracy of my world from kidnapping unwitting peasants off the streets and using them as they saw fit.

No matter how many things I point out, there’s nothing they can do about it, and going further will only make it seem like I’m accusing Rias Gremory.

“I-If you become a high-class devil, you can become a noble and gain the right to start your own peerage,” Rias says suddenly. “You don’t have to start one. Many high-class devils don’t, but you wouldn’t be my servant anymore, if you so wish.”

“Is it easy to become a high-class devil?”

She shakes her head. “But because you’re not human anymore, you’ll live for thousands of years, and will become one eventually. I promise, Hyoudou, I won’t treat you badly.”

I manage to stop myself from pointing out that I can’t refuse her without being hunted. That kind of answer won’t get me anywhere. Nor will starting an insurrection like I did as a part of Night Raid do more than earn me a quick death, considering these devils—that we live for thousands of years.

It seems I’ll have to take a page out of that winged Jaeger’s book and change things from within. The irony nearly makes me smile, but the thought of angel wings reminds me of Yuuma Amano. She’s certainly still alive—and likely allied with that Dohnaseek guy.

“You said the fallen angels are our enemies, right?”

Rias composes herself in record time to nod. “They are.”

“Will I see Yuuma again?”

“Given that she believes she’s completed her mission… it’s unlikely, but if she’s allied with the fallen angel that attacked you last night, there’s a chance. Why? Hyoudou, you have to understand she was lying to you. She doesn’t love you—”

“That’s not it,” I interrupt her. “No matter what, she dies. I’ve got a long life ahead of me to find a way to do that, right?”

She smiles and sits up. “Then, welcome to the Gremory peerage, Hyoudou. I promise, you’ll love it here!”

—⧬⧭⧬—

The night is cold, but not in the way I remember. The flyer in my hand glows faintly to my eyes. Crimson script, a little devilish symbol printed in the corner. It’s the same summoning circle as the one in the club room.

And it’s the same flyer Issei Hyoudou picked up the day he died. I stare at it for a moment before tucking it into a mailbox.

One down. Several dozen more to go. My first job as a reincarnated devil is simply menial: drop these fliers across the neighbourhood for humans in need to call upon. Most will be ignored. Some will catch the eye of someone desperate enough to call on a devil for help. A member of the peerage will then be summoned to discuss the details of the request, the payment, and to schedule when it will be carried out.

Rias said we could be summoned at any time, but can resist the summoning, after which someone else will be summoned in our place. I only worry about what’ll happen if I’m summoned while sleeping.

By the tenth flyer, I’m bored. By the fifteenth, I’m thinking about the fact that devils, for all their power, still rely on petty contracts to expand their influence. Is there some kind of energy that they gain from fulfilling a wish?

Or is there something more nefarious to gain, like a person’s lifespan or their firstborn child?

“That still happens sometimes,” Ddraig’s baritone voice rumbles between my ears.

I thought you could only talk through the green gemstone on my gauntlet, but apparently not.

“I can do that too, but I’m bonded to your soul, Tatsumi.”

I slide another flyer into a postbox. Do you always talk this much?

“Only when my host is worthy of conversation. You are a warrior. I’ve had many hosts, you know. Some never knew that they carried me within them. But no, to answer your question. Most hosts are not worth my words.”

I laugh a little at that until my situation as an unwilling servant of a well-meaning aristocrat sets in again. What do you think of devil society, Ddraig? They seem perfectly content to enslave one another, and sure, my world was like that too, but I fought against evils like that.

“Broken. Arrogant. Soft. The strong rule the weak, as in nature. But strength rots when it rests too long. When bloodlines become excuses and kings forget what it means to fight their own battles. Grow strong, and the devils will fall head over heels to accommodate you. Freedom from their bonds will not be an issue, then.”

I nod. That sounds about right, seeing that Rias more or less said the same. I glance up. The stars are clear overhead. This world doesn’t feel real yet. Maybe I’ll blink and wake up to see Akame with a bowl of beef stew in her lap.

You think Rias is like those nobles?

“You know she is not.”

The retort is blunt enough to make me smile. Still, he’s right. She seems to want to be a decent person, but wanting alone isn’t enough to enact change. Yet, change must begin with desire anyway.

Rias called the underworld aristocratic, so I’m sure there are poor devils in the underworld under the thumb of some stronger, wealthier devil. Maybe there’s even a revolutionary faction… but if I go about things the same way as when I was a part of Night Raid, will there be a huge number of civilian casualties?

Probably.

Despite us winning, I can’t say that I was satisfied with how things ended up. Sure, Prime Minister Honest manipulated the Emperor into using Shikotauzer in the middle of the capital, but the battle killed too many innocent people, not to mention the collateral damage.

Ddraig’s uncharacteristic quiet is strange to my ears.

“I am not human,” he says, as if it’s the answer to all my questions. “Domination is in my blood… but there is no honour in trampling over the weak.”

So you protect them?

“If they find themselves under my protection. But let me tell you that to rebel against the devils as you are now is tantamount to suicide.”

I’ll ask you this, then: should I try and change things from within like that white-haired teacher who joined the Jaegers, then?

Ddraig chuckles. “There’s a key difference between him and you. In the end, his moralising was to cover up his fear. His rage over the deaths of his students was simply overshadowed by his fear of the Empire and their evil if he moved too overtly.”

I frown. He seemed willing to fight in his own way, so I can’t in good faith say that he was a coward. Besides, I’ve not seen whether this society is as rotten from the inside as mine was.

The last flyer disappears from my hand and slips into the last mailbox. The magic is done, and my stack of the things is depleted.

I turn toward home. Without Rias befuddling their minds, I’ll have to handle Issei’s parents myself. The thought only makes the pressure headache behind my eyes throb harder.

“Regardless, stay the course as you have today, Tatsumi. Do not bow where you believe you are right, and these doubts will wane. I’ve waited a long time for a host like you. That Gremory girl may have to worry about not disturbing the stalemate between the three factions, but you are a Red Dragon Emperor.”

And just like that, he’s gone again—but not absent.

—⧬⧭⧬—

Sometimes, the only excuse that won’t unravel tends to be a version of the truth. So, after my paper run, I gave Issei’s parents a rendition of the truth that wouldn’t unnecessarily worry them—the whitest of white lies. A new circle of friends and upperclassmen, thanks to my supposed girlfriend in Rias Gremory, wanted to throw me a party to celebrate.

They seemed happy that I wasn’t spending my evening with Motohama and Matsuda and watching the pornography stashed in the plastic figurine box Issei hid inside his closet. His mother was very specific about its location, too. It seemed Issei had a streak going this week. 

There’s a lingering worry in their eyes, though. Maybe they sense the new distance between me and them. It can’t be helped; I’m not their son, but I feel bad for it.

After school the next day, I head to the club room only to find that there’s no one there. There is, however, a note taped to the table from Rias that says she and Akeno have got study hall after school and that Koneko, Kiba, and I can go home and come back in a couple of hours.

And now I’ve got absolutely nothing to do.

Ddraig speaks up from inside my head. “Perhaps go on a walk. Explore Kuoh. This is a new world that’s quite an upgrade from your own. The faint experiences from Issei Hyoudou’s memories are one thing, but you might as well familiarise yourself with this world.”

Don’t suppose you’d like to be my tour guide? I ask him while descending the school’s empty staircases.

“It’s simply a suggestion on my part.”

The streets are warm in the late afternoon light. Kuoh Academy students still in uniform linger around convenience stores and street corners.

Across from me, a group of even younger kids chase each other past a vending machine. To the dismay of none of his friends, one falls and scrapes his knee. It’s not bad enough that they feel compelled to stop, so he’s left there in the street, crying over his bleeding knee.

A woman in a nun’s habit carrying a suitcase crouches down beside him, and once she’s sure no one’s nearby, she cups her hands over his knee. Pale green light blooms within her hands. The boy’s tears stop. She turns and sees me staring. Her eyes widen just slightly before she waves me over.

I’m surprised that she does for a moment, but I walk over to her.

She waves her hands around dramatically. “C-Can you… explain! To him. That he is all better now?”

“The kid?” I ask.

“You understand me? I-I don’t speak Japanese—wow, you speak Italian!”

Her sudden enthusiasm takes me off guard a bit. She reminds me of the leader of the Path of Peace, but it’s probably because of the necklace she wears on top of her robes. Did she use some kind of magic to heal the boy?

“That’s the symbol of the Christian faith,” Ddraig supplies. “The faction of Heaven; its soldiers are the angels and exorcists.”

“She says you’re all better,” I say, looking down at the starstruck child. “Go on, now. Your friends are almost long gone, see?”

The trio of the boy’s friends stand so far away that they’re colourful smudges on the horizon. So, the little boy scrambles to his feet and bows. “T-Thank you, Sister!”

The nun seems to understand and waves back to him with a smile as she stands. Some of her confidence seems to leave with the boy, because she can’t make eye contact with me anymore. 

Her feet shuffle slightly before she looks up at me. “Are you a local? I-I’m pleased to meet you. My name’s Asia Argento, I’ve been assigned to the local church.”

“Issei Hyoudou,” I reply. “I’m a high school student.”

“U-Um… I seem to be lost. Can you help me find out where this town’s church is?” She stares at the ground. “I’ve had no luck so far. Japanese is a hard language to learn… can you help me?”

I look around for a busy shop—this world doesn’t have Imperial Police wandering around the street so frequently, so convenient help seems to be in demand.

“Use your phone,” Ddraig says.“Do not go to a church as a devil under any circumstances.”

I nearly forgot that I even have one. “One moment,” I say to Asia as I pull it out. Conveniently, there’s a bar at the top that lets me type into it to look for things. “Is it this church? It looks to be the only church in town.”

Asia nods.

“Okay, give me your phone. I’ll give you the address so you can follow its directions.”

With her glowing rectangle held akimbo and her suitcase trailing behind her, she rushes off. Though not before turning back with a bright smile and waving. “Thank you very much, Issei. You’ve been a blessing!”

The infectious happiness on her face makes me smile.

“You’re welcome, Sister Asia.”

Ddraig grumbles between my ears. “Look at you, getting chummy with your enemies.”

Come on. Asia isn’t my enemy.

“You saw her powers, didn’t you? She’s certainly not come to this town for a missionary purpose.”

Ddraig’s cynical warning wipes the smile off my face.

Well… I still hope she doesn’t become my enemy. Asia seems nice enough.

The dragon doesn’t reply.

—⧬⧭⧬—

“Why, Issei,” Rias says when I return to the club room. “You’re late.”

“I didn’t even know there was a set time to return, but I come bearing gifts,” I reply. “Did you know that there’s a place that sells fried chicken on the outskirts of Kuoh, cause I didn’t? And you’re calling me Issei now?”

“Are you not my boyfriend?”

“Why would you go that far out?” Kiba asks—his question is a welcome distraction from Rias’s flirting. 

“No reason in particular,” I say. “I came up here after school, but thanks to the note, I went on a walk around town.”

Akeno smiles and takes the bags of piping hot food out of my hands. “You should be more careful, Issei. Our influence is strongest here and only wanes the further away from Kuoh Academy you go.”

“You know, you really need a pamphlet or something with all that information, Rias,” I say.

The red-haired girl clears her throat. “President.”

“Pardon?”

“...W-Well, as a member of this club, you must refer to me as ’President’, Issei.”

I blink a good few times before I think up an answer. “And here I thought I was your boyfriend.”

Akeno lets out a full-on laugh that breaks the astonished silence from our faux-club’s president.

“How forward of you,” Rias says with a coy smile. “I suppose I’ll have to simply let my ’boyfriend’ do as he pleases. Right, Kiba? Koneko?”

“My parents seem to think we’re an item thanks to you, and since I’m using you as the very convenient excuse for my late-night outings, you’ll have to take responsibility.”

Kiba meets my gaze before he turns to her. “I’m inclined to agree with him, President. One must take responsibility for one’s actions.”

Rias gasps and clutches her chest at the betrayal. Meanwhile, Koneko happily tears into a chicken drumstick and seems content to not get involved despite Rias’s gaze. 

“Oh, alright then,” says Rias. “But at the very least, you’ll refer to me as President if we have to talk in front of the other students.”

I shrug. “I don’t mind that. Adhering to a command structure that doesn’t exist just seemed a bit much to me.”

“Does that mean you’ll call me ‘M’lady’ if I ask you to?”

“She’s got you there, partner.”

I ignore Ddraig’s amused laughter rumbling between my ears and reach for a piece of fried chicken. When in doubt, Koneko’s method of not engaging seems to do the trick. After poking some more fun at me, Rias, Akeno, and Kiba sit down too.

We eat in a companionable silence despite yesterday’s tense greeting. When we’re done, Koneko leaves the club room to throw away the paper bags and acquire sweets from the vending machine outside the building. The door barely clicks shut before Rias’s phone gives a sharp buzz from the table, and whatever she sees on its surface pulls her pretty features into a frown.

“What is it?” I ask.

Akeno circles the sofa to look at the request before an equally worried look forms on her face. Her gaze flicks between Rias’s phone and my face. “It’s a mission from Archduke Gremory. There’s been a stray devil sighting in the town, and because the offended peerage has waived their right to pursue, that task has fallen to us since Kuoh is our territory.”

Rias stares at the phone for a moment longer before locking the screen and setting it down.

“It’s not far. North edge of town in an abandoned building that’s been scheduled for demolition for years,” she says. “We’ll handle it.”

That last part is pointed. She doesn’t look at me when she says it. Akeno shifts beside her. Kiba’s mouth tightens, just slightly. It’s almost funny. They think I’ll argue or preach. Maybe they’re even trying to spare me from compromising my morals.

I stretch my legs out as I stand. “What do we know about this so-called stray devil?”

Rias glances at me now. There’s a moment of hesitation before she answers. “She escaped her peerage, killed two pawns on her way out. She’s not been in Kuoh long—a few weeks at most—but she’s been feeding on the local human populace.”

I nod slowly. “So she’s a killer?”

“Yes,” Akeno says.

The silence that follows is loaded.

Rias leans forward. “You don’t have to come. Issei.”

“I know,” I say. “But I want to see what the underworld’s so-called monsters look like.”

Kiba’s the one who finally speaks. “Based on our conversation yesterday, you don’t trust that we’re good people, do you?”

The lovely evening’s atmosphere vanishes like a candle in the wind. There’s no small measure of hurt in Rias’ eyes. I nearly feel guilty until I remember that they hadn’t seemed to think of the cruel eventuality of the peerage system until I pointed it out.

They hadn’t even thought of it as slavery when that conclusion was right in front of their eyes. For all their lives, my new peers had been enforcers of a system they hadn’t thought to question. Not out of any malevolence, but because they assumed that those issuing the orders were as well-meaning as they were.

Or perhaps they didn’t have any choice but to accept things as they are. I’ve no clue, because I don’t know them. But I once made the mistake of thinking everyone was as kind as me, only to find my childhood friends chained and tortured in my benefactor’s basement.

“Remember my warning, partner: to rebel as you are now is suicide.”

Ddraig’s voice only reminds me of a truth I’m already well aware of. But am I the only one who can see the tragedy here? Even if she didn’t kill innocent people, Rias’s father would have ordered her death simply for the sin of desiring freedom.

No one says a word when we reach the site. The building is rotting. Broken windows give me a glimpse of rusted stairwells.

Darkness blankets the world, and I feel all the stronger for it. Against the night, I feel like I’m wearing Incursio.

Rias takes point with her hands on her hips. Behind her are Akeno and Koneko, with Kiba and I to bring up the rear. He holds out his hand, and in the same instant, a magic circle different to the one etched into the club room forms at his feet.

A sword floats out of it, hilt first and into Kiba’s welcoming grip.

“Can you make me one?” I whisper to him.

Despite the cooling anger I can see in his grey eyes, he summons a perfectly ordinary sword with a brown leather grip into my hand. It’s almost pathetic-looking compared to his sword. A metal stick can’t compare to a shard of darkness, but I don’t complain lest I make him angrier than I have already.

“Once it breaks, it’ll disappear,” Kiba mutters. “It’s no sturdier than a regular sword, so be aware of that. Even if it doesn’t break, it’ll disappear eventually.”

I close my eyes and draw on Ddraig’s presence within me—I barely open them when the Boosted Gear materialises in a flash of light against my eyelids.

“BOOST!”

The gemstone within the Boosted Gear flashes a brilliant emerald. I can feel a swell of electrifying energy underneath my skin. Like I can run without stopping for the rest of my life.

Rias marches up to me and takes my armoured left hand in hers, earlier’s argument forgotten. “T-That’s… the Boosted Gear! It looks completely different to the Twice Critical I saw when Dohnaseek attacked you. See? This gemstone wasn’t there before!”

I stare at the gemstone. “...That definitely wasn’t there before.”

“Of course it wasn’t. Why would I grant a pervert like Issei Hyoudou my power without making him prove himself to me first?”

“…I smell blood,” Koneko murmurs, covering her nose with the sleeve of her uniform.

Blood? I tilt my head back, but the moment I do, a presence I can only describe as evil descends on the field outside of the building. I might not have been able to smell the blood Koneko pointed out, but the sixth sense I’d honed through years of combat told me that something was approaching.

“What is this stench? Certainly not human—devils?” The hushed voice rises from the field we were wading through.

Rias scoffs. “Stray Devil Viser, you wretch. Your sins are worthy of a thousand deaths. In the name of Archduke Gremory and the peerage that you so callously abandoned, we will purge you from this world!”

The provocation draws a shadow out of the earth, and from it emerges a giggling woman. Her lower half is obscured in a writhing mass of shadow that towers her naked form over us.

She fondles her breasts at the sight of us. “Insolent girl. Would you like me to stain your body to match your crimson hair?”

Ten seconds pass when the green gemstone in my gauntlet flashes bright. “BOOST!”

The shadows part from the rest of her body, revealing a mass of misshapen flesh standing on countless, clawed arms and legs. Dark pustules pulse against the skin of her lower body, and a crimson serpent juts out from the base of her spine to coil around her waist.

“Issei,” Rias turns to say. “This is what happens when a devil succumbs to their basest instincts. Their soul and body become as ugly as the evils they commit.”

I move past her.

“Viser,” my voice catches her gaze. “How many?”

She tilts her head. “How many what, handsome?”

“How many people have you killed?”

“A handful? A dozen? Maybe more. They were all so warm. So loud. Their screams made such beautiful music after I had my way with them.”

“And before that—did your King mistreat you?”

Her eyes overflow with rage. “He kept me caged. Treated me like a thing. Let me loose in Rating Games like something to use and then lock away. I deserved freedom.”

“You did,” I say. That makes her pause her fondling to look at me with curiosity. “But not like this.”

Behind me, Rias murmurs, “Issei, don’t let her get in your head—”

“She’s already made her choice,” I reply without turning. “I just wanted to confirm something, Rias.”

Ddraig?

“I’m with you, partner,” he says. “This maggot will die a swifter death than she deserves.”

I look down at my frowning reflection in the Boosted Gear.

“BOOST!”

The Red Dragon’s power roars through me for the third time, a brilliant verdant flame. My body tenses, my gaze sharpens, and my senses flare. The stray’s eyes widen. She starts to move back, but she’s far too slow.

I close the distance in a single step. One clean motion. My sword tears through her from top to bottom. The slash covers me in her blood, and her warped body topples to the ground on either side of my sword.

As it falls, each eye stares at me, asking why I killed her. The swollen pustules burst. Dark fluid seeps into and consumes the surrounding grass with a greedy hiss.

I lower my sword. “Viser… you stopped being a victim the moment you made someone else one.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 3: The Bill Comes Due

Kuoh Academy is slightly emptier on weekends, though a not insignificant number of students still attend various club activities. Of course, the Occult Research Club isn’t any different. After killing Viser, Rias told me to come in the next morning, and I arrive to find her sitting behind her desk, fingers steepled.

“Good morning, Rias. Where is everyone?”

“Issei.” She nods and smiles. “Akeno is currently in the shower, so you may as well take a seat and wait for her to finish.”

Only then do I pick up on the hiss of water and a shapely silhouette against the plastic curtain separating the shower from the club room proper.

“Now, now.” Rias’s voice is thick with amusement. “It’s not polite to peep at a lady.”

The steam curling from behind the curtain thickens. I look away, jaw clenched, but the silhouette is burned into my mind already.

Long legs, delicate curves, and the faint outline of someone who knows they’re being watched and revels in it.

“She likes to take her time,” Rias says. “Hot water relaxes her. You should try it sometime. Being relaxed, that is. You seem tense, Issei. I wonder why.”

I don’t respond. My eyes settle on a bookcase to my left. Not the silhouette to my right. The curtain slides open with a whisper, and damp, warm air floods the room. I glance over before I can stop myself.

Akeno steps out with a towel coiled around her hair and a thin, silk bathrobe clinging to her still-wet skin. The robe hangs dangerously low on her chest and barely reaches her thighs. Water beads on her collarbone, sliding down her chest, and when she notices my gaze, Akeno smiles like a cat.

“Oh my,” she says. “Did I make you wait?”

“Not too long,” Rias answers, clearly enjoying how uncomfortable I am.

Akeno crosses the room without rushing. She pauses behind my chair and leans down just enough to let a whisper of warmth brush my ear. I stay silent.

“She’s just playing. That’s what Akeno does.”

Akeno giggles, straightening back and leaving the burn of her hand on my shoulder. “You wound me, President. I’ll have you know I’m completely serious in my advances.”

“She’ll dress in a moment,” Rias says, brushing aside the tension like it’s all a game. “In the meantime… I think it’s time for your first contract. Given its nature, I was going to assign this to Kiba, but after our little performance a few days ago, I thought you might appreciate the request’s irony.”

“What kind of contract is it?” I ask.

“That would spoil the surprise, Issei.” Rias leans back in her chair, clearly enjoying herself. “Walk into the teleportation circle and find out. Akeno, are you ready?”

“Yes, President.” She’s not changed yet, but I do my best to ignore her.

“Stand in the middle of the circle, Issei.”

The circle carved into the floor glows red when it activates. Oddly, it reminds me of the Imperial Arm that teleported Esdeath and I to that one remote island.

Before I can blink, the world dissolves into crimson light, and I open them to what looks like a high-end apartment, all glass and empty spaces that scream wealth. There’s a girl standing by the window. She spins around when the red flash from my arrival washes against her back.

“I-It actually worked!”

She’s maybe eighteen, nineteen at most, with short black hair and expensive clothes that look like they’ve never seen a day of wear.

But there’s something desperate in her dark eyes.

“You called for devil services?” I ask. “I’m… Tatsumi. Nice to meet you.”

“I—y-yes, but I didn’t think—you look so young!” She takes a shaky breath, composing herself. “Sorry. My name is Junko Hayakawa. I need... I need someone to pretend to be my boyfriend. Just for one dinner. With my family.”

“Why?” I ask.

Junko’s laugh is bitter. “Because I’ve been the perfect daughter for eighteen years. Quiet, obedient, never caused a single problem. And now that I’m finally away from home and in college, I’ve realised how much I hate it.” She turns back to the window, looking out at the morning rush. “They expect me to come home and slip right back into being their little doll. Do whatever they want me to do, say whatever they want me to say.”

“And what is that you want me to do?”

“I want them to see that I’m not the same person who left.” She faces me again. “I want them to know I can make my own choices. Can you help me?”

I take a moment to think—and all the while, Junko grows more nervous. She never answered my question.

“What do you need me to do?”

The relief on her face is immediate and overwhelming. “T-Thank you! Oh, thank you. I—the dinner is tonight, but first we need to make you look the part.” She’s already moving, grabbing a purse that probably costs more than Issei’s parents make in a month. “You look too… nice. That has to change for this to work.”

Kuoh’s shopping district is a sprawl of boutiques and salons that cater to people with more money than sense. Junko drags me through it on a military campaign.

“Leather jacket,” she says, pulling one off a rack without looking at the price tag. “Dark blue jeans, we can keep the red shirt you’re wearing. Boots—hmm, not dress shoes, boots. Something that looks like you could kick someone’s teeth in.”

The clerk at the first store watches us with barely concealed horror as Junko transforms me from a schoolboy to a thug that wouldn’t look out of place in one of the Capital’s seedier districts.

The jacket is real leather, the boots are steel-toed, and the jeans fit like they were made for me.

“Perfect,” Junko says, stepping back to admire her work. “Now the hair.”

I frown. “I like my hair.”

Or rather, I like Issei’s hairstyle—it’s the one thing he’s ever done that I approve of.

She raises her hands in self-defence. “It’s lovely, but it just needs some contrast! I won’t change it too much, I promise!”

Thus, the salon is next. A thin man with artistic pretensions takes one look at me and immediately understands what Junko wants. My hair gets cut shorter on the sides, longer on top, and he keeps the longer locks at the back, but styles everything else to look deliberately messy.

“Now for jewellery,” Junko announces.

“Aren’t you spending an awful amount on—”

“Trust me.” She’s already dragging me toward another shop by the arm. “A few pieces. Rings and a necklace. Nothing too flashy, but enough to complete the look.”

By the time we’re done, Junko’s taken a hammer to the familiarity I’d managed to build between Issei’s body and my self-image. The reflection stares back with sharp edges, leather and steel, and an attitude.

“You look perfect,” Junko says, practically glowing with satisfaction. “Now, for the final touch—you need to know how to act.”

“We’ll tour the rougher parts of town,” she explains as we leave the shopping district with my bags loaded in my arms. “So you can observe how real delinquents behave.”

I look at the designer shopping bags, then at her. “Maybe we should drop these off first—”

“Don’t worry about it,” she says with a carefree wave. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

This is where her plan goes sideways. The worst that could happen, apparently, is exactly what I expected would happen.

We’re three blocks into the seedier part of Kuoh when they appear—five guys in their early twenties who think intimidation is a substitute for personality. Junko and I had been attracting looks till then, but I managed to scare off most by glaring and yelling, “What’re you lookin’ at!”, much to her amusement.

These lot, though, probably couldn’t believe their luck when they spotted a rich girl and her companion wandering around with obvious wealth.

“Hey there, pretty lady,” the leader calls out as they corner us by coming out of the exit of an alley. He’s got a spider web tattoo on his neck. “Nice bags you got there.”

Junko goes rigid beside me, finally understanding that wandering around with tons of expensive stuff wasn’t a smart decision. But she doesn’t run. Instead, she grabs my arm, looking up at me with something between fear and excitement as she takes my bags.

“What are you gonna do about it, boyfriend?” she whispers.

I look at the five thugs, then at Junko’s expectant face, and grudgingly extract my arm from her grip.

“Stay behind me,” I tell her.

The leader laughs. “Ooh, tough guy. What are you gonna—”

I hit him before he finishes the sentence. He goes down hard, blood streaming from his nose. The others hesitate for a crucial second—and the hesitation costs them. I bury my elbow in the second’s solar plexus. He doubles over, gasping, and when the third tries to grab me from behind, I pivot and drive a knee into his face.

It’s over in less than a minute. Five thugs lay scattered on the alley floor, groaning and bleeding, while I stand over them without even breathing hard.

I turn to check on Junko, expecting to find her terrified or shocked at the violence. Instead, she’s grinning like she’s just witnessed the most entertaining thing in her life.

“That was incredible! You’re perfect—this is definitely going to work!”

Hours later, it’s time for dinner.

The Hayakawa family home is exactly what I expected. A dark car drives us past the security guard at the gate of a house that wouldn’t look out of place in the Capital.

“Remember—” She whispers as we approach the front door. “—you’re supposed to be the kind of guy they’d never approve of.”

I nod. “Got it.”

The door opens before we can knock. An older woman stands there—Junko’s mother, based on the resemblance. Her smile is polite until she sees me. Then, it freezes and falls.

“Junko,” she says carefully. “You didn’t mention that a friend of yours would be joining us.”

“This is Tatsumi,” Junko says, slipping her arm through mine. “My boyfriend. I thought it’d be best to introduce him to you the minute I returned from college.”

The temperature in the room drops ten degrees, and the dinner is a masterclass in working through barely contained horror. The family sits around a low table that probably belonged to their ancestors—Junko’s father in his expensive suit, trying to maintain dignity, and her mother flickering between politeness and panic.

Her two older sisters can’t seem to decide whether to be scandalised or terrified.

“So, Tatsumi, was it?” the father says, voice carefully neutral. “What do you do? Do you attend university, perhaps?”

“Nah. I train martial arts,” I say, keeping my voice rough. “But I’m a handyman by day. Fixin’ stuff. Why?”

The oldest sister—Keiko, according to Junko’s briefing—makes a small choking sound. She’s the type who married exactly who her parents wanted and can’t comprehend deviation from their script.

“How... interesting,” the mother says. “And where did you meet our Junko?”

This is where Junko’s planning pays off. “He saved me from some thugs near the station on my first day at college,” she says, gazing at me with manufactured adoration. “Five guys tried to corner me, and Tatsumi just... handled them.”

I grunt an acknowledgement. In reality, I’m watching the family dynamics, seeing how power flows around this table. The father is the nominal head, judging that the sisters look more to the mother than the father.

The middle sister—Sayuri—tries for a somewhat supportive smile at Junko that freezes midway at a look from her mother.

Keiko, however, follows every cue from her parents like a trained dog. “How romantic. Though I hope you’re being careful, Junko. Not all that glitters is gold.”

Junko’s grip on my arm tightens. “I can take care of myself,” she says. “Tatsumi’s even been teaching me self-defence.”

“Violence—” Keiko’s voice is dismissive. “—truly the most enlightened of pursuits.”

I lean forward slightly, letting some genuine menace creep into my posture. “Problem? I don’t think I appreciate the tone you’re takin’ with her.”

Keiko goes pale and shrinks back in her seat. “No,” she replies with a forced smile. “No problem.”

Sayuri finds the courage to smile at Junko, who returns the gesture with ten times its radiance.

The rest of the dinner passes in uncomfortable silence, broken only by the parents’ attempts at stilted conversation with me. Junko fields questions about her studies and plans for the future, all the while maintaining the fiction that I’m part of those plans.

Every mention of me makes her parents twitch, like they’re afraid I might contaminate their perfect daughter just by existing.

As we’re leaving, the mother makes one last attempt to separate her from me. “Junko, perhaps Tatsumi would like us to arrange a car for him—”

“That’s alright,” Junko says brightly. “I’ll take him home myself. Need to say hi to his parents too, don’t I?”

The look that passes between her parents could freeze hell.

We barely make it down the paved road to the gate before Junko breaks down laughing. Not the polite, restrained laughter of a wealthy young lady, but deep, body-shaking howls of pure joy. The security guards at the gate glance at her when she has to lean against the gate to keep from falling over.

“Did you see—” She gasps with tears streaming down her face. “—did you see Keiko’s face when you looked at her? I thought she was going to piss herself!”

She fumbles through her purse and pulls out an envelope.

“Your payment,” she says, pressing it into my hands. “Fifty thousand yen, as promised.”

“Use this opportunity,” I tell her. “Don’t let them drag you back in.”

Her expression softens. “Thank you, really. I know this was just a job for you, but...” She shakes her head. “I feel like I can breathe for the first time in years.”

“What will you do once this wears off?”

Junko’s smile turns wicked. “I’ll summon you again. Maybe since then, you’ll have been to prison. Maybe you’ll join a gang and become their enforcer. Though, give me your phone for a moment, please.”

“Why?” I ask, even as I pass it to her. When she returns it, I notice that she’s added herself as a contact on my phone.

“It’s a necessity to keep them off my back for a little longer,” she says with a wink, passing me the leaflet she used to request my services.

“We’ll send you new leaflets every month from here on out now that you’re a customer,” I say. “Send me the address later.”

“Okay—also, I’ll leave you a glowing review!”

Once I’m far enough, I bite the tip of my thumb hard enough to draw blood and print it onto the magic circle imbued into the flyer. A crimson teleportation circle activates around my feet, pulling me back to the Occult Research Club room.

Rias looks me up and down appraisingly over a cup of tea. “...I’m not mad at this new look.”

“Where is everyone?” I ask.

“Extending their services to our clients,” she replies. “How did your first contract go?”

I think about Junko’s relieved laughter and slide the envelope across the table for Rias to look through with a smile.

“Better than expected,” I say.

—⧬⧭⧬—

I get a day off from devilry after my contract with Junko. After school on Monday, Kiba picks me up from class, awkwardly friendly after the events of our stray hunt. He takes me to the old gymnasium at Kuoh Academy. There’s a newer, bigger one, rendering this one abandoned. Somehow, Rias has a key for the chained padlock and has been using it for training.

Inside, dust motes drift through the afternoon light, streaming in from windows that haven’t been properly cleaned. Rias stands in the centre of what used to be a basketball court, but the faded lines have been covered by thin chalk marks forming a perfect duelling area.

“Let’s call this a reset,” she says, addressing the group with the kind of authority that comes naturally to someone born to lead. “There were… misunderstandings a few days ago. And I know that trust takes work. So, today, we work.”

I shrug off my school blazer, leaving me in my red shirt and school pants.

Koneko stretches in silence near the wall. Kiba is down to a black vest and folds his blazer and white school shirt. Beside his clothes, Akeno hovers over a clipboard, ready to record whatever data Rias wants collected.

“Fifteen laps to warm up,” Rias calls out. 

Koneko takes point without being asked, setting a pace that’s fast but not punishing. Kiba falls in beside her. They chat quietly about something I can’t catch. I match their rhythm, gauging how much strain I can take before I need to drop back and run at my own pace.

Surprisingly, I hung on the entire way.

Afterwards, we meet in the ring for sparring after the warm-up, and Kiba creates a sword for me.

“You had a good downward slash when we fought the stray,” he says.

Rias calls out from a bench, “Issei, why don’t we see how the Boosted Gear works by having you spar?”

I shrug.

“Very well, President,” Kiba says.

The Boosted Gear clamps onto my left arm with a brilliant flash and Ddraig’s throaty call:

“BOOST!”

Ten seconds later, the Sacred Gear’s power kicks in automatically.

“BOOST!”

Rias raises her hand. “Alright, begin!”

Kiba tests my defence with a series of quick strikes. Issei wasn’t a swordsman, but Kiba’s holding back enough that I can react. The two boosts make things easy, but if I parry everything—or worse, riposte—flawlessly, it’ll only make them suspicious.

They already look at me strangely because I’m not as perverted as Issei, so I only parry one, intentionally making it look haphazard.

“Okay, that’s enough boosting,” I mutter.

“EXPLOSION!”

Harnessing the boosted power dancing beneath my flesh, I pack it into a single downward slash that forces Kiba back to the far side of the room.

The impact reverberates through the gymnasium like a gunshot.

“RESET!”

“You can stack the boosts and unleash them in one attack?” Akeno calls from her position near the wall, scribbling onto her clipboard.

I take a deep breath and nod. Kiba leaves the ring.

After a five-minute rest, Koneko replaces him. She bows to me once, then moves. I focus on the Boosted Gear. I don’t need to wait for ten seconds. Despite temporarily stopping its automatic boosting function when I sparred with Kiba, the timer continues until ten seconds have passed.

The next power-up is instant.

“BOOST!”

The surge in strength isn’t as great as the initial one when I fought Kiba. But as Ddraig put it, the Boosted Gear uses my current combat power as a reference.

I manage to read Koneko’s footwork as she closes the distance. Her attacks are simple, but blockable, even while pretending to be a novice.

Ten seconds pass.

“BOOST!”

Then I slip up—and not intentionally. What looks like a straightforward punch is a feint. She pivots at the last second, her real attack coming in the form of a spinning elbow from an angle I didn’t expect.

The force of her attack smashes through my sword, even though I barely raise it in time, and snaps my entire torso to the side. The boosted power suddenly drains out of me.

My gauntlet’s glowing emerald dims, and a deep fatigue sets into my limbs.

“It seems sufficiently powerful attacks reset the boosted power,” Akeno announces. “There was no call for ‘Explosion’ this time. I wonder what its function is.”

“I warned you not to fight while boosting, Tatsumi,” Ddraig says between my ears. “Better that you boost, and then cease the function until you need it. If you continue to boost every ten seconds, the power won’t have time to stabilise, and as you saw, a sufficiently powerful hit can render the fruits of your labour worthless.”

“Too slow,” Koneko says flatly, but there’s no malice in her voice.

I straighten, nodding as I catch my breath. “Noted.”

Koneko goes over to Rias and Akeno, who give her a bag of sweets. Before I can sit down on the floor, Kiba tosses me a water bottle.

“Thanks,” I say.

His smile is tight. “I… wanted to apologise for how I behaved. I hate to bring up bad memories, but given how you died, I understand why you don’t have the best opinion of anything supernatural. Regardless, hearing you imply that we weren’t good people based on nothing you could prove made me angry. But being so caustic to you was petty, so I’m sorry, Hyoudou.”

“I get it,” I reply. “No hard feelings here, believe me. I’m still a little sceptical of everything—but you guys seem like decent people.”

It’s strange. Based on the simple fact that I am Rias Gremory’s servant, I’m more willing to give Asia the nun more of a chance than these people, who seem to be trying to do right by me, all things considered. Sure, they only stand to benefit from my cooperation, but from what I can see, they deserve a little grace on my part.

Or at least give them a fair shot before I make a value judgement. After all, there’s nothing but morality that stops Rias Gremory from abusing her powers.

As we get ready to head out, Rias steps forward with Akeno’s clipboard in her hands. Her eyes are bright with the satisfaction of a day’s well-wrought work.

“After some careful observation, I believe I’ve figured out how the Boosted Gear works,” she announces. “It’s not a doubling of your power every ten seconds. Otherwise, you’d have been much faster and stronger. Instead, it seems to increase your demonic power by a fraction of your overall capacity, which is why you end up boosting your physical capabilities. Demonic power and physical ability go hand in hand.”

“Of course, there’s a limit,” Akeno says. “Once Issei goes over the absolute limit to the amount of demonic power his body can house, he won’t be able to use the Boosted Gear.”

Rias nods and then launches into her explanation that emphasises how weak I currently am and why I am the only limitation on the Boosted Gear’s power.

Ddraig rumbles amusedly within my mind. “Verily.”

“And this explains why Issei had to use his sacred gear constantly,” Rias concludes, tapping the last chart with obvious satisfaction. “Despite the risk of losing all his boosted power, his base power isn’t strong enough to let him keep up with just one or two boosts. So from now on, it’ll be best if you boost as necessary beforehand rather than in battle.”

After a moment of silence, I applaud her. “You got it more or less spot-on. That’s pretty much what Ddraig told me.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Rias says, slowly lowering her clipboard. “Ddraig?”

“He’s my friend, the Welsh Dragon.”

The Boosted Gear flares with emerald light, and Ddraig’s voice fills the gymnasium with dry amusement. “Well met, devils. I am Ddraig—the Red Dragon Emperor of Domination. Slayer of gods and devils alike. Unfortunately for you, Gremory, I’ve already explained the fundamentals of the Boosted Gear to him.”

Rias stares at the gauntlet, then at me, then at her clipboard. “I spent the entire afternoon yesterday thinking about this—”

“And you were very diligent about it. Five stars.”

“...Thank you,” she says, her voice flat with the kind of disbelief that comes from realising your efforts amount to nothing through no fault of your own. “But it was a waste of time, it seems.”

“He didn’t have the heart to interrupt you. If anything, blame him for being a coward, girl.”

“She’s going to scream,” Koneko observes.

After a sharp inhale, Rias wilts against the wall with her clipboard dangling. “...I could’ve been in bed.”

I bend down. “For what it’s worth, this was a good team exercise. I think I got to know Kiba and Koneko a little more. This was better than Ddraig’s ramblings, too. His voice tends to put me to sleep.”

“Hmph. I’ll have you know that I’ve received compliments on my voice, you knave.”

Rias looks up, though her eyes linger on the flashing gemstone. “Really?” She straightens slightly, some of the wounded pride fading from her expression. “Well... when you put it that way, I suppose the exercise wasn’t completely pointless. I did do this to build some trust between us, after all.”

Outside, the sounds of normal school life continue—students heading home after some extra studying alongside distant yells coming from the main gymnasium.

I wasn’t sure whether I trusted these people yet, but at the very least, I’d allow them to earn it.

—⧬⧭⧬—

Three days later, Rias assigns me one of Koneko’s overflow contracts—she has two requests set for the same evening, and I’m covering the second one. A routine house call to find out what they want and then granting that request.

“Just a standard contract,” Rias explains, handing me the flyer. “Hop into the circle when you’re ready.”

Crimson light engulfs me, and when it fades, I’m standing in someone’s dark hallway. Light spills across half of it from an open room, but the crumpled devil flyer a few steps ahead of me sets off alarm bells in my head. Seeing that the teleportation circle on the flyer isn’t destroyed, my mind points to one conclusion.

This is a trap.

I arm myself with the Boosted Gear and poke my head around the corner.

A man—presumably my client—is crucified against the far wall. Hands spread wide, and his feet nailed together. His head hangs forward, and there’s so much blood pooled beneath him that I know he’s been dead for some time.

Standing in the centre of the room to admire his handiwork is a figure with wild white hair in a gold and ivory robe. He seems too absorbed in his grisly work to notice me.

“BOOST!”

The sound makes the man look up, his face lighting up with pure delight when he sees me.

“Oh, wonderful!” he exclaims, spinning around to face me fully. “A devil! And just when I was getting bored!” He gestures at the crucified corpse with his blade. “Your thrall here didn’t last nearly as long as I hoped. I barely got through half of his punishment before he died on me.”

“What thrall? You killed an innocent person,” I say.

“Innocent?” He throws back his head and laughs. “No one who’d call upon you hell-spawn is innocent. In fact, you should have seen the look in his eyes when he realised his precious devil flyer wasn’t going to save him.”

But as I am now, even with a boost, engaging him is risky. And from what I can tell, boosting multiple times is exclusively a feature of the Boosted Gear. If he realises that I have it, will he try and kill me before I become a threat? My intuition tells me he’s the kind of person to grow intoxicated at the sound of his voice.

I don’t stop the Boosted Gear from powering me up a second time.

“BOOST!”

“Who are you?” I ask.

“Ooh, the Red Dragon Emperor! Even better! Do you know how many devil-worshippers I’ve put an end to, hm?” He smiles widely. “My name is Freed Sellzen. I’m an exorcist, set on eradicating you beings of darkness and those who would follow you from this world. That is the sole purpose behind my existence.”

“Why torture the man? Some man of God you are.”

Freed Sellzen shrugs. “We all have our vices, I’m afraid. He’s certainly not innocent—and neither are you, devil.”

My Sacred Gear kicks into effect just as my rage boils over.

“BOOST!”

I move faster than he expects, closing the distance between us in a single step. My fist connects with his solar plexus, and he doubles over, the blessed blade clattering to the floor. The third surge of power flows through me like liquid fire. When Freed tries to scramble for his weapon, I kick him away and pick it up myself.

A stark white blade ignites out of its hilt, and there’s an instinctual unease at how close the weapon is to me.

Freed lifts his arm to aim his gun. “These are devil-purging holy rounds, abomination!”

I dart behind the cover of one of the sofas, before my sacred gear kicks in again.

“BOOST!”

Solid light bullets puncture and pierce the couch. Eventually, he’ll hit me, so I back away into the corridor while still hiding behind the couch until I hear the click of his gun. I don’t let him finish reloading.

I end the automatic boost feature.

“EXPLOSION!”

The sound startles him only as long as it takes me to barrel over the couch and grab him by the throat. I can feel the night enhancing me in tandem with the draconic power coursing through my body from crown to toe.

His neck snaps in my grip.

Without sparing a moment, I carry his corpse over to the wall opposite his victim, grab the hammer and box of nails he’d left scattered on the floor, and proceed to crucify him exactly as he’d done to the innocent man who requested Koneko’s services.

When I step back, Freed Sellzen’s corpse hangs spread-eagled against the wall, arms outstretched, head lolling forward: a message for his allies, once they find him. The room falls silent except for the sound of my breathing.

Light, hesitant steps reach my ears until a young woman appears in the hallway opposite the living room.

“Father Freed, I’ve finished establishing a perimeter in case any devils—” Her words cut off abruptly at the carnage before her. “...F-Father Freed?”

Her green eyes take in the crucified corpse on the wall, the blood on the floor, and me standing in the middle of it all with Freed’s holy blade still in my pocket. I look down and only then notice that I’m covered in blood.

Her face goes white as paper.

“Oh... oh no…” she whispers, one hand flying to cover her mouth. Tears well in her eyes.

I recognise her now that she’s not half-draped in darkness. It’s Sister Asia, the priestess who asked me for directions a handful of days ago.

“I told you, Tatsumi,” Ddraig says. “Beware where the Church are concerned.”

I can still salvage this. Judging by her reaction, she doesn’t seem to know.

“A fight is the likelier option.”

I don’t want to kill someone who doesn’t deserve it. She doesn’t seem like she was aware of any of this… so talking is the only option. But can I convince her that a man of her faith was in the wrong when I’m a literal devil?

“Asia…” I say slowly, through gritted teeth. I don’t want to have to kill her, but I know that if I have to, I will. “I know this looks damning, but he was torturing an innocent man, so I gave him a taste of his own medicine.”

“B-But Father Freed said this man was soliciting the aid of a devil… and we were only meant to convince him he was wrong and invite him towards salvation.” She looks up with those sad, big green eyes of hers. “...If you’re here, then that means you’re the devil, Issei.”

“Do you believe that I’m a bad person because I’m a devil?” I ask her.

She goes to shake her head, but stops. Tears drop like crystals from her eyes. “B-But look what you did to this man and F-Father Freed!”

“I didn’t kill this man. And unlike what was done to the poor bastard, I killed Freed before I nailed him to the wall as a message for those who’d support his actions. …I just didn’t know that person would be you. Asia, is this what the Church does behind closed doors and calls justice?”

Amidst all of this, the small voice in my head can’t help but regret being so quick to alienate the Gremory peerage. Despite being tantamount to slavery, the peerage system is at least a little better than the Church breaking into people’s homes and massacring them in the dead of night for the sin of asking for help.

“The Church isn’t like that!” I’m more surprised that the usually shy girl would raise her voice than anything, but she mistakes my surprise for anger and shrinks. “I-I—we aren’t with the Church. Father Freed and I were… excommunicated.”

“For what?” I ask.

“My Sacred Gear, Twilight Healing, can heal anyone. Even devils. For doing so, I was banished as a heretic.”

“And Freed?”

Asia looks away. “...For killing wantonly. H-He said he killed exorcists who strayed from God’s teaching, b-but the way he described it—”

“Partner,” Ddraig’s voice steals my attention. “If she and that exorcist aren’t with the Church, then there’s only one other alternative.”

I know, Ddraig.

“Because I was cast out by the Church, the Fallen took me in. Officially speaking, I’m not a member of the Church anymore.”

I swallow. “Do you know a woman called Yuuma Amano?”

She shakes her head. “N-No. Should I?”

“Forget it,” I say. “Asia, you seem to be a good person—I can’t believe you’d be wrapped up in this kind of stuff if you had the choice. But if you were—”

“N-No!” Her throat wobbles, and she grabs fistfuls of her nun’s habit. “My life was never supposed to b-be like this. I-I wanted to become a nun and help people with my Sacred Gear.”

“You still can,” I say. “Maybe not the way you planned, but you can still help people. Starting with yourself.”

The light from the room doesn’t quite reach her, but I can see her well enough. I take in her trembling and her doubt, as well as the hope that cranes her neck, despite everything.

“...I don’t have anywhere else to go,” she whispers.

I offer her my hand. “Then come with me.”

She hesitates—then, slowly, extends her hand to take it. Asia looks back at the bodies left behind in the room, but before she turns fully, I gently yank her away.

—⧬⧭⧬—

Everyone is here.

Rias stands near her desk. Akeno’s seated with a cup of tea in her hands. Koneko rises from the couch without a word, eyes locked on the trembling girl at my side. Kiba stiffens where he leans against the wall.

Asia hovers just behind me, half-hiding in the folds of her habit. Her eyes are wide, taking in the gothic furniture and red velvet walls with open wonder—and fear. She flinches when Koneko shifts slightly, as if she’s waiting for one of them to attack her.

“Let me explain,” I say.

Rias tilts her head. “You’d better.”

“This is Asia Argento,” I begin. “She was with an exorcist who tried to ambush me tonight after killing the client.”

“That would be one of Koneko’s clients?” Kiba asks.

I nod. “He killed the client and lay in wait to lure in a devil. It worked. But he didn’t expect me.”

“Past tense?” Akeno notes. “Did you kill him?”

“Yes.”

Rias looks over my shoulder at Asia. “And her?”

“She wasn’t in the house when I arrived,” I say. “I don’t even think she was present when he killed her. She came in after it was over, and when she saw what I did to her partner, we talked for long enough that I managed to figure out she wasn’t involved and convince her to come with me.”

Asia peeks out behind me. “I didn’t want to hurt anyone…”

I gesture to her. “She’s been excommunicated. For healing devils with her sacred gear, apparently. The Church tossed her aside, then the fallen angels took her in.”

“And you brought her here?” Rias asks.

I meet her gaze. “She had nowhere else to go. And unlike Freed, she didn’t enjoy the killing. She’s not like him.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

My jaw clenches. “Then yes. I brought her here without asking. Because it was the right thing to do. And after I killed Freed, the Fallen won’t be coming for her.”

A long pause stretches between us.

Then Koneko walks forward. Her eyes sweep over Asia with blunt appraisal. Asia tenses as Koneko gets close. But when Koneko offers her a wrapped candy, her eyes go wide. 

“You saved her,” Rias says slowly. “But you also disobeyed me by bringing a potential enemy here without clearing it with me first.”

“There’s something else,” I admit. “I’ve met her before. The day after I was resurrected. I didn’t tell you then either.”

The room falls quiet again.

“You were meant to be buying chicken,” Akeno says lightly, but there’s an edge beneath the silk.

“I did.” I exhale. “But I also wandered around, remember? I didn’t trust any of you yet. I wasn’t even sure what you wanted from me. And when I saw Asia, I didn’t think she was a threat, so I gave her directions and left. I didn’t know what she was involved in.”

“And now you think you do because you’ve saved this girl?” Rias asks.

“I know enough.” I turn enough to look at Asia. “She wants to help people. The Church punished her for that. Doesn’t it count for something?”

Rias walks toward me, stopping just short of arm’s reach. “You should’ve told us. We’re supposed to trust each other. And yes, this happened before you got to know us a little better, but when were you going to tell us you met someone you believed was affiliated with the Church?”

“I was going to tell you. Eventually. If she ever became an issue, which she has.”

“I understand why you were cautious,” she says. “But that doesn’t excuse the fact that you made a decision that could’ve endangered all of us without even bringing it up. Asia Argento may seem innocent, but even today, you brought a potential enemy into this room without a word of warning—you could’ve called.”

“In my defence, it’s not like I have any of your phone numbers.”

Rias’s cheeks pink a little. “...F-Fair enough.”

I meet her gaze. “But I understand. Look, if you want to blame anyone, blame me. Not her. If you want to punish someone, I’m right here.”

“If I’d been in your place, I’d have done the same thing,” says Kiba. “Just next time, maybe warn us first, please?”

“I’m not saying we throw her out,” Rias replies. “But she’s in our care now. Maybe the Fallen use that as an excuse to make unwelcome overtures. Her sacred gear is powerful enough to warrant it. That means her presence here is a burden as well. Are you prepared for that responsibility?”

“Yes.”

Rias studies me for a moment longer. Her expression softens—not by much, but enough that I notice. “Very well. She stays under Akeno’s supervision. If she does anything suspicious, she’s gone.”

“T-Thank you!” Asia bows deeply, still trembling. “I swear I won’t cause trouble. I’ll do whatever you ask.”

Rias acknowledges her with a nod, then turns back to me. “Anything else?”

“Yeah,” I say. “There is.” She stops mid-step, turning back. “I want a photo of Yuuma Amano.”

Asia blinks owlishly. “I—” she starts. “I already said earlier: I don’t know her—”

“I know what you said, I just want to be sure.”

Rias is quiet for a second, then nods. “Yuuma Amano likely isn’t her real name. So take a look at this photograph.”

She moves to a drawer beneath her desk, pulls out a yellow folder, and flips it open. A small photo slips free. It’s one of those surveillance-style shots of targets during my briefings as an assassin: slightly grainy but clear enough.

She hands it to me without another word, and I pass it to Asia.

Her fingers tremble as she takes it, eyes widening. “Raynare,” she whispers. “T-That’s her. I didn’t know she was going by a false name.”

Ddraig’s voice rolls through my skull, slow and thunderous.

“There it is, Partner. The bill for Issei Hyoudou’s life comes due.”

And there’s nothing I can say that Ddraig doesn’t already know, but my silence is agreement enough.

Chapter Text

Chapter 4: Wings, Weights, and Warnings

“Wake up, or I’ll kill you!”

My eyes snap open.

“Throw that alarm clock out,” Ddraig says. “Her voice is grating.”

Which is exactly why it wakes me up. 

It’s one of the only bits of Issei’s stuff I’ve kept. Those and the childhood photos. Unlike his books filled with naked women, his figures, and his posters, I hadn’t the heart to throw them out. And the irritation his alarm clock brings out of me is just what I need to stop me from staying under the warm covers.

I leave the house after washing up and putting on a hooded shirt and some baggy pants.

This world has developed some incredibly useful methods for training. It took me a week to figure things out, along with scraping together the funds to pay for membership at one of the training facilities, but I got there in the end.

Training back in my world was mostly functional. I got strong by swinging my sword. If I wanted to last longer in a fight, I ran till my lungs were fit to burst. But there were the beginnings of these isolationist exercises, too.

The ones designed to torture specific muscles into growing.

Lubbock and I spent many months with Leone and Mine on our backs while attempting to push ourselves off the ground. But this world had gone further: machines with weights affixed to them to be lifted in a specific manner. Foods and strange concoctions that let you build muscle at a faster rate.

There was even a machine for running indoors that kept a person stationary no matter how hard they tried to run forward. It might not be the most breathtaking of stuff for the people of this world, but to me, this world’s technologies might as well be magic. But those weights only go so high, and I’m already dangerously close to lifting the heaviest weights the gym has to offer because I’m not human anymore..

The first time I came back from the gym, Issei’s parents looked at me like I’d grown a second head. They’d called me first when they noticed I wasn’t at home for breakfast, but I hadn’t realised they were calling. I told them where I went when I returned, but they seemed more surprised that I was exercising than when they’d found Rias in my bed.

At least that was in the realm of Issei’s regular behaviour. Or maybe I’m reading into things too deeply.

Today was my third day at the gym, and as I leave, I notice the sky is a strange purple, not quite the dark blue of the early morning since the sun hasn’t dyed it pink yet.

“Enough time-wasting,” Ddraig interrupts me. “Get in the sky.”

Do we have to do this now?

“The sun is yet to rise, thus you are stronger than you’ll be when it’s up. Most human beings are still asleep. Besides the night, there is no better time. This, too, is simply training.”

I don’t know what I’m supposed to look for. Rias and Ddraig have both said that these wings are a natural part of me. That if I focus and will them into existence, they’ll appear. But I’ve no idea what those wings look like. And so my mind goes to that fallen angel who attacked me.

I remember his wings: dark and broad and feathered. A light force pushes my chest out. I hear the rip of cloth—and suddenly, I’m intimately aware of the wings at my back. I go to touch them and find no feathers. They’re leathery but smooth. Each twitch of the things sends a strange judder down my shoulder blades.

Strangely, they’re like a pair of arms, but my connection to them is tenuous. Like, I have to focus on using them.

“Good,” Ddraig says. “Now, fly home. High enough that the humans can’t see you. It will not be easy, but the sooner you start on this, the better.”

I sigh and crouch low. The wings flick once, and I feel them straining like muscles would. Then I push off the ground. There’s no grace in it, and the launch is awkward. All knees and flailing limbs. These wings are nothing like Incursio’s final evolution. I can move them with my mind, sure, but nowhere as smoothly.

My hoodie nearly blinds me as it snaps up and back.

Air punches my face and roars in my ears as I lurch higher, then sag with a stomach-dropping dip. The wings beat again in terrible rhythm—too slow. I’m not even sure if I’m flying or flailing through the air on raw willpower. The ground falls away slowly. Rooftops blur beneath me, softened by distance and the dim, pre-dawn haze.

One thing I don’t expect is the cold; it’s bone-deep cold and wraps around my ears and fingers, seeping under my clothes and numbing my joints before I get to moving. My hands are clenched into fists before I can notice, and the loose trousers whip around my legs like sails.

“See? You’re not half-bad.”

“C-Couldn’t we have done this…” I grit my teeth. “In better clothing?”

Ddraig’s laughter rumbles over the sound of my chattering teeth. “Come now, a little cold doesn’t hurt.”

“Doesn’t mean I-I have to like it. In fact—”

Up here, I can barely see anything at all. The wind claws at my face, and my eyes are watering so badly that the horizon blurs like it’s underwater. The rising sun only makes things worse. When I can stand to open my eyes, I’m blinded by its flash.

So, I don’t see the spear of light—I feel it. Heat cuts through the morning chill a second before the air shatters.

“Watch out, Tatsumi!”

I twist away, but it clips my shoulder and smears blood across the sky. Ddraig’s voice inside my head melds with the call of his voice as the Boosted Gear covers my left hand.

“BOOST!”

The familiar sting of pain doesn’t linger in the face of the sacred gear’s surging heat. I look up. A second golden glint breaks through the pink blur above—broad black wings riding the morning’s light. The light is too bright for me to see anything besides the dark feathered wings.

Ten seconds pass without a word. The Boosted Gear’s green gem flashes. “BOOST!”

He hurls the light. I throw myself back, angling away enough that the white-hot spear plummets past my vision. By the time I stabilise and look up, another one forms in his hand. It’s Dohnaseek. He’s without his hat, but the dark, striped suit is identical to the one he wore the night he tried to kill me.

“You know I’m not a stray, right?” I ask.

His frowning face twitches into a smirk. “Oh, I know. And to think the weakling I mistook for a stray was Raynare’s target—resurrected as a Gremory thrall no less.”

“You know Yuuma?”

“Yuuma?” He throws his head back and laughs. “I’ve got you to thank for that embarrassing getup of hers, it seems. That whore being forced to dress like an old woman? Hilarious.”

“You’re not here to kill me, that much is clear. But what’s your motivation? What does she want?”

“Perhaps they know you have Asia.”

It’s a possibility—but if I ask, it’ll be as good as admitting to it.

“If it wasn’t for that blasted nun, Raynare would have never had the satisfaction of finding out you’re still alive. Now she’s to slink back to Azazel with her tail between her legs. For the joys you’ve brought me, boy, I’ll do you one favour: come quietly and I’ll not hurt you.”

“Why are you back? Don’t tell me you’re upset you didn’t get to kill me last week,” I say. “I didn’t think we were that close, Dohnaseek.”

He scoffs. “Scum like you isn’t fit to speak my name. Consider my previous offer rescinded. I might not be allowed to kill you, but maiming is fair game.”

“BOOST!”

I tuck my wings in against my back and plummet when he brings his arm back to throw. The spear of light tears through the air over my head with a screech. The ground rushes up to meet me, but once the danger is averted, I spread the wings wide and shoot back up.

Dohnaseek holds a spear akimbo, but instead of throwing it like I expect, he shoots towards me with the weapon held astride.

“Considering one boost allowed you to briefly hold your own, I’d imagine you’re not that far off from him.”

But unlike the fallen angel, I’m unarmed and without any leverage. I’ll have to rely on a straight-on attack to generate power, which isn’t smart without a weapon. In the air, he has the advantage. I beat him in close-quarters combat—after I fought him that night, I can tell. Maybe he knows that, but whether I have to force him to land or lead him there, my objective is the same.

For now, three boosts seem to be more than enough, so I cease the automatic boost function to let the power stabilise.

“EXPLOSION!”

Dohnaseek barrels toward me, his spear thrust forward like a lance. I twist in mid-air and roll with the momentum, angling down and away. Another spear forms in his free hand. He tosses it. I dive sharper. The spear blazes past my head and explodes somewhere behind me with a concussive boom that shoves me forward. I grit my teeth and bank right, spiralling.

Dohnaseek gives chase, moving with ease born of long use. It’s an ease I don’t have. He throws again. I weave left, but the blast catches the wide curve of my wing.

I hiss through the sear.

“You fly like a newborn!” he says over the roaring wind.

I level out, wings straining, the wind howling as I build speed. I rise straight up, then lean. A tight corkscrew twist back and down, just fast enough to dodge the next spear. The light singes past my jaw, close enough to heat the blood in my veins.

I’m pushing it now. My wings have barely seen use, and without the proper clothing, the rawness of the air tears through the wing-shaped holes in my shirt. Cold fingers dig deep into the cuts on one of my wings, and I’m slower on the next beat.

I need ground—the boosted power won’t last forever, and I need leverage. So, I feint up. He bites, rising after me. I jerk hard to the side, loop beneath his path, and dive for the rooftops. He hurls a spear after me in frustration.

It blasts the chimney of a nearby house to rubble. Clay and brick explode in a flash of light. We tear past and leave it in the distance. I drop lower—trees blur below, rooftops giving way to parkland, and skim above a wooded slope, wings trembling.

Another spear falls—aimed ahead of me. I twist out of the way too late. The explosion clips my leg and sends me tumbling through the air. Fire rakes across my thigh, and I bite down a yell, clenching my jaw until it pops.

My wings buckle—but I force them wide and steady. Just a few more seconds. My back skims the canopy. Dohnaseek laughs loud and free above me.

We hit the clearing.

I drop hard into a crouch, stumble on the landing, but stay upright. Blood splatters the grass. I’m panting. The Boosted Gear hums red-hot at my arm as I set it free.

“BOOST!”

Dohnaseek dives like a hawk. I rise slowly. My feet are on firm earth now. I roll my shoulder once, blood still seeping down my arm—but my stance is strong.

“This is your last chance to leave,” I say. “If you fight me here, you’ll die.”

He only raises the spear—this one is a solid metal weapon. Pulled from where, I don’t know, but his intention is clear.

I let him come to me.

“You’re weaker than before,” Ddraig warns as Dohnaseek closes in. “The boost is less because you’re tired. Stay on the defensive.”

Dohnaseek lunges again.

His spear whips in so fast it seems to bend. I block with the Boosted Gear, the clash sending sparks up my arm. The impact hurts. He’s still stronger than me, even down here, but not for long. I spin with the hit and take a page out of Koneko’s book. My elbow digs into his ribs with half the momentum of his attack.

It lands, but he grits his teeth and powers through, swinging the back end of his spear to catch me off-balance. I duck it. My foot sweeps his leg. He hops but doesn’t clear my foot completely, only enough to avoid going down, but still stumbles away.

We circle each other in the grass, breath rising in mist despite the sun’s warmth. I don’t feel as strong in its light. The pain from all my injuries are a thousand pinpricks on the edge of my awareness, but it keeps me alert. 

He charges again. I let him get close because I can see his next move—an obvious stab, leveraging his spear’s range. I twist out of the way and grab his wrist—ten seconds have passed.

“BOOST!”

My fingers tighten. He tries to wrench free. I wrench harder till something in his hand pops. Abandoning his spear, Dohnaseek hisses and stumbles, clutching the arm. I don’t give him space. Right fist cocked—I slam it into his jaw.

His head snaps sideways. Another punch to his open torso, and he folds. Without an ounce of hesitation, I lift my armoured hand and bring it down on his head.

He rolls away at the last second, so I stomp his hand as he reaches for his discarded spear. Dohnaseek shouts and forms another spear—one of light—and drags it up into a guard. It’s unlucky that he chose a spear as his weapon of choice. I might be a swordsman at my core, but Incursio’s companion weapon was a spear.

He’s stronger. Still. But only barely now. Ddraig either overestimated him or underestimated me.

“BOOST!”

I roar as strength floods my limbs. The new surge of power and my superior skill earn me a world of confidence. Where he’s cautious, I’m not. Dohnaseek holds his spear like a man expecting a sword fight. Guard too high, elbows wide—he’s clearly not a spearman.

I step in and shift the spear through a wheeling flourish—baiting a high block. He bites, dragging his weapon up to parry, slow and stiff. I pivot and the haft rolls under his guard, and I reverse it low, snapping the butt end into his exposed ribs.

The shaft slams into his sternum as he falters, unable to react when I sweep his legs with the flat of the blade. I kick his chest to flatten him and drag the spear’s point to his throat.

Our eyes meet.

He raises a trembling hand. “W-wait—”

“Your worthless life has run its course, Fallen.”

Dohnaseek flinches at Ddraig’s voice.

“One second,” I say, and I can feel both of their gazes. “I’ve got a question for you, Dohnaseek. You answer, and you die painlessly. You don’t, and you suffer, then die. Why were you sent to kidnap me?”

“If you t-think, filth that you are, I’ll—”

I drive the spear down tip-first. It sinks into his shoulder. His pained howl cuts off the rest of his sentence.

“Wrong answer. Try again.”

Veins pulse maddeningly against his forehead. He won’t talk. I can tell as much by the baleful glare in his dark eyes.

“Last chance to answer. Why?”

Just when I’ve resigned myself to the silence, blood flecks his lips: “Go fuck yourself.”

I plunge the spear into him without hesitation. Through his chest, into the earth beneath. He jerks once and goes still.

“I knew he would not answer.”

I sigh. “In some cases, it’s better to be proven wrong than to assume.”

I breathe hard. Blood trails my arm, my leg, and down the edge of my jaw. I look down at the corpse and the red-soaked metal in my hand.

The Boosted Gear’s power dims on my wrist.

—⧬⧭⧬—

The sun feels like it’s beating me over the head, and it’s only been three and a bit hours after my fight with Dohnaseek. Flying home with my injuries was one thing, but sneaking into the house by climbing through my window?

That was something else entirely. I dumped everything except my underwear in a bin on account of the blood and wing-shaped holes in them, and hoped no one saw me.

My wings aren’t out anymore, but my entire back is sore hours too early on account of the fight. I’m starting to regret skipping breakfast with Issei’s parents, too—but it’s probably for the best. Given my injuries and the daytime weakness, a round of questions and genius answers isn’t something I’m in the mood for.

School will give me enough of that.

As if on cue, my phone buzzes against my thigh. “Hello?”

“Issei, honey, are you okay?”

“Yeah,” I reply, forcing some pep into my voice. “I stayed in the gym too long to make breakfast. Don’t worry, I bought myself a protein shake and a chocolate bar.”

“Are you sure you’re not hungry? I’ll put some extra money on your finger for some snacks?”

Kuoh Academy has an intuitive system that somehow scans the print of your finger and links it to an in-school currency account for meals.

“I’d like that,” I reply, smiling before I even know it. “And send me a list of some things you need. I’ll grab them after my club stuff, alright?”

“I don’t know where this change in attitude has come from, but have a great day!”

And just like that, my good mood vanishes. Being an impostor posing as their son is just another irritant to add to the list of things, not limited to: the sun being exhausting, Dohnaseek being a bastard, and the lack of any food since dinner, except the banana I ate before going to the gym.

I’m early to homeroom, and all the seats are free. I pick the furthest one from the window, where the morning sun’s glare is harshest. It’s tucked into the leftmost corner of the room, half shaded, where I’ll hopefully be given some brief peace.

In the week that I’ve existed, Issei’s reputation has twisted slightly. Maybe because I’ve been seen in Kiba’s company one too many times, and probably because of Junko’s makeover.

In any case, I’m apparently a delinquent. How is it my fault when the idiots from the nearby all-boys school decided they wanted to test that rumour?

I’m not sure when the room filled up, but as they always do, Motohama and Matsuda wake me up without fail.

“Jeez, are you alright?” Matsuda runs a hand over his buzzed head when I look at him. “Stay up late watching porn or something?”

I groan at having been disturbed. My head is throbbing.

Motohama turns around from the seat ahead of me. “Have you done the English homework?”

“What homework?” Matsuda asks.

“The speaking one!”

He gasps. “...Where we’ve got to introduce ourselves and our likes and shit?”

“No, the one where we need to describe our taste in women—of course it’s that one, you moron!”

“Hey!” Matsuda’s voice rises in offence. “That was uncalled for!”

“Your grades are uncalled for! I’m as much a female aficionado as you, but you need to make time for our pursuits. Which you can’t do if you’re in detention all the time! And when’s the last time we’ve seen Issei—”

Matsuda shushes him. “He’s fucking wiped, dude. Let him be.”

I’m face down on the table at this point, and it’s not at all hard to tune out their arguing. Their voices meld with the hum of conversation around me until I’m pulled away from it all entirely.

Until I’m not.

“Hyoudou—hey, wake up!”

“Tatsumi, watch—”

Ddraig’s warning is half-formed when something small slams into the crown of my head. I look past Motohama’s at the clock above the blackboard.

It reads five-to-one—it’s been an entire four hours since homeroom. My English teacher is standing underneath the clock with his arm outstretched. I sit up and watch an eraser drop to the ground. The class is only too eager to laugh. The snickers on top of the throbbing behind my eyes make the world spin.

“I’m sorry, did I disturb you?”

I open my mouth to answer, but I can’t remember his name.

“Fushigurou.”

Thanks for the save, Ddraig . I smile. “No, Mr Fushigurou. I dozed off. What is it?”

“The homework. Introduce yourself in English, and make sure you include your likes, dislikes, and something you got up to on the weekend.”

“I—”

“Stand up! If you, Hyoudou, become the final pitfall preventing the full class from having completed their homework, I will keep all of you back during lunch until you do it!”

His yell stabs into my skull. I drag myself to my feet.

“I’m Issei Hyoudou. I enjoy sleeping these days, and dislike overly strict people.”

It’s too quiet.

“Hey,” Motohama whispers from in front of me. “When did you get so good? There was no hint of an accent!”

“W-What did you do over the weekend?” Mr Fushigurou asks. 

“I didn’t get up to much over the weekend, unfortunately. Slept, mostly. Can I sit down now, sir?”

He waves me away, and almost immediately, the screech of retreating chairs fills the room. I slump forward and ignore the perverted duo’s questioning until they leave. I feel worse than I was this morning—but after fifteen unsuccessful minutes of trying to go back to sleep, I leave the classroom.

Luckily, it’s lunch. I go downstairs with only a single purpose in mind, and having not eaten since dinner, I don’t particularly care if what I eat is good or bad.

It helps that Kuoh’s a fancy school that doesn’t skimp out on any expense. After eating my first helping, I get up intending to go back for more.

“Shit!” Matsuda, having long since finished his food, sets down his carton of banana milk. “You eat anything today?”

I look down at him, slightly embarrassed that he said that so loudly. The table next over is filled with second-year girls. Kiba looks at me with undisguised amusement. I meet his eyes, he smiles—and of course, that only makes said filthy-minded girls squeal.

Honestly, where do they get off judging these two idiots for their behaviour when they’re perfectly content to draw art of Kiba and me naked and in positions that I’ve never even seen before?

“...No, I haven’t,” I reply. “I’m starving. And just because you helped fan the flames of this thing with Kiba, I’m going to eat outside.”

“Come on, man,” Matsuda starts to whine. “I didn’t mean to. And any publicity is good publicity with chicks, no?”

Motohama pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “If you make it into their BL fantasies, they’ve got to find you at least somewhat attractive. I do believe that rugged hairstyle is working wonders for you. You were always somewhat uncouth.”

I flip the four-eyed bastard off as I walk back to the dinner lady, who’s all too eager to top up my plate.

“Mind if I switch out my cutlery?” I ask the matronly woman. “My idiot friends accidentally made me drop the stuff.”

“Of course, dear,” she says with a hearty laugh. “I’m just glad you’re enjoying the food enough to ask for seconds. Besides the sports lads, everyone else’s appetites are just too small.”

I smile at her. “Well, if that’s the case, I’ll come back more often.”

“Oh, get out of here, you sweet talker!”

Chuckling, I leave the canteen. Matsuda and Motohama’s calling falls on deaf ears. I’m not mad at Matsuda for something as stupid as reigniting the second-year girls’ fascination with Kiba and me. I just needed a non-offensive excuse to disappear with some food for Asia, who’s in the Occult Research Club room for the time being.

Rias’s logic was that she’ll be unable to do anything because she’s not a devil, and if she does, the result would either be Rias herself finding out or a most painful death. The obvious deterrent aside, Asia doesn’t strike me as the type to do something like that, but stranger things have happened.

On the way to the rickety building we use as our club room, I get to walk through the lower courtyard. Students play ping pong and lounge around on benches in the sun or tucked in the shade of the canteen’s hanging rooftop.

I was told that Asia would be my responsibility, but I’d forgotten all about her, not that I’d done so on purpose.

When I enter, I find her on the sofa, nose-deep in some kind of erotic manga.

“Where did you find that?”

She jumps so high that her legs clear the coffee table. “I-Issei!”

Asia hides the manga behind her back like I didn’t just see it.

“...Aren’t you a holy woman?”

“I-I didn’t know!” she stammers. Her hands scramble to close it. “It was just sitting on the table—I didn’t know it was… that.”

“Right.” I raise an eyebrow. “I’m sure the cover of two shirtless men in that kind of position didn’t give it away.”

Her face doesn’t look all that different to the sliced tomatoes on the lunch tray I set down in front of her.

“Here. I brought you tons of food. You’ve been cooped up here since last night.”

“I-I’m grateful!” she says, quickly swapping the book for a knife and fork. “Thank you, Issei. Truly.”

She eats in silence and pretends my staring doesn’t bother her. When she’s done, she quietly thanks me for the food. Her eyes dart all over the room until she finds the courage to look at me, then she frowns.

“You’re injured.”

“It’s nothing.”

“I can tell. You grunt every time you move.”

I shift on the couch and ignore the taut sting down my back. “I’ll live.”

“I can help. Please, let me. I know I’m not a devil, but I’m still a healer,” she adds. “And you fed me. Let me return the favour.”

I nod once. She reaches across the couch and steeples her fingers. A verdant glow blooms from her palm and swells outward. My skin tingles. Warmth floods the dull ache I’d acclimated to. All the cuts knit together slowly, the pain peeling away like dead skin.

Better yet, my headache is completely gone, so I can’t help but smile.

“Thank you, Asia.”

She blushes at the praise. “H-How… how did you get so injured?”

“I was meaning to talk to you about that. So, this morning—”

Her phone, the one face down beside her on the couch, buzzes without answer. I’m about to speak again when it interrupts me by buzzing again.

Asia frowns and lifts it to her face. “Who would call me…?”

I glance at her. “Seems like whoever it is won’t stop unless you pick up.”

Asia puts the phone on speaker and sets it on the table between us.

“Asia. Asia, sweetheart, where are you? You’ve got everyone so worried.”

Although Ddraig doesn’t speak, I’m aware enough of his presence like I am a breath against my nape.

Asia flinches.

“You’ve been such a bad girl. Running away? Not even saying goodbye to poor Freed? We buried him yesterday. Well… cremated him, really, but you get my point.”

Asia’s lips part, but no words come out. Her hands are shaking.

“Now, I’d hate for something bad to happen. So here’s the deal. Come back, right now, and I promise I’ll let bygones be bygones. We’ve treated you so well, haven’t we? You don’t want Issei getting hurt, do you? That kind boy who guided you to the church?”

So that’s what Dohnaseek had ambushed me for. Raynare is desperate enough that she wants to pretend that I’m kidnapped, all to lure Asia back.

“You’ve got it backwards,” I say aloud.

“Who is this?”

“Who do you think?”

“...Issei?”

“Back from the grave, some would say, so there’s some news for you, along with a warning.”

She laughs on the other end. “Oh? Do tell. Want to declare your undying love? I wouldn’t blame you for it. I know I’m beautiful, and I’ve got to say, that date you put on for me was so pathetically adorable. It’s a shame—”

“You’re going to die—and to make it even clearer: I’m going to kill you. But since you went through all the trouble to call, I want you to know that you’re not going to be laying another hand on Asia Argento.”

“You think this is about her? She’s useful, but I didn’t come to this backwater town for her.”

“Right,” I reply. “Your mission was to kill me. Dohnaseek said something about you slinking away to Azazel a failure. Is he the one who ordered you to kill me?”

“You killed Dohnaseek?”

“I did.”

Raynare doesn’t reply for a long moment. “...Don’t utter Lord Azazel’s name with your mongrel tongue.”

I smile. “Well, there’s my question answered.”

“You’re right. Someone is going to die,” Raynare says, laughing. “But it will be you, not me. Even if you were reincarnated as a devil, a week isn’t long enough for you to surpass me. Rest assured, I’ll be seeing you soon, Issei. And I will make sure—”

I end the call before she can say another word.

The silence that follows is brittle. Asia’s hands are still shaking in her lap. I reach out and turn the phone face down on the table between us.

“Hey.” She looks up. “She’s not going to lay a hand on you, alright?”

Asia doesn’t say anything, but she nods.

I roll my shoulders. The pain is gone, but a cold weight settles behind my sternum. Not fear. It’s more like focus. She’s made herself a target, declared her god, her mission, and her conviction. There’s nothing redeemable in her. No sudden reveal of coercion or blackmail that’ll make the job harder. 

Raynare is just scum, making what comes next simple.

—⧬⧭⧬—

The worst thing about study hall is that you can’t sleep in it. Or well, you can, but I can’t seem to. I’ve been in here for twenty minutes and aged five years. Every second that ticks by is another frustrating second that Raynare gets to breathe.

I shift in my seat.

“Psst.”

I ignore it.

“Oi, Issei.”

I lift my head just high enough to see Matsuda slink into the desk beside me. Motohama’s right behind him.

“You look dead, man,” Matsuda says. “Not like ‘haha, tired’ and more like corpse dead.”

“Study hall is slowly stealing my soul,” I mutter.

Motohama taps his glasses and leans closer. “Well, since you’ve been down all day, we’re gonna cheer you up.”

I can tell where this is going, and I already hate it.

“We scoped it out,” Motohama says. “Track club. West field. All first-year girls.”

Matsuda grins. “All wearing short shorts.”

“You two realise we’re locked in here for another forty minutes, right?” I ask them.

Motohama beams and points at me, saying, “Water break!” Then, he points at Matsuda. “Toilet break!” And then himself, declaring, “And I’m going to the library for a textbook.”

I stare at him. “I’m not going peeping with either of you.”

They look at each other, confused.

“But it’s like—tradition,” Matsuda says. “Whenever we’re down in the dumps, we go peeking. Come on.”

“You’ve had girlfriends, right?” I ask.

They say nothing.

“That’s what I thought. Now, have you considered that the best way to find and keep one is to not be sex-crazed, creepy idiots?”

Matsuda scratches his neck, and Motohama looks away. We’re not the only ones talking; dozens of conversations fill the class with a constant hum.

“We were just trying to help,” Motohama mumbles. “You’ve been… y’know. Not yourself.”

I sigh and rub my eyes with the heel of my hands. I don’t have the energy for this. “I’m sorry. I know, it’s just… I’m not in the mood.”

The teacher at the front is too buried in a stack of marking to care about me leaving. I step out into the hall, and cold air hits me in the face. I don’t make it three paces before I run into a wall.

A wall barely above waist height with white hair, honey-coloured eyes, and a deadpan expression.

“Koneko?”

“You’re free to go,” she says, handing me a pink slip of paper. “President said so.”

“Just like that?” I glance over the paper. “A job interview?”

“She heard about the phone call,” Koneko replies. “Said she’d rather you weren’t wasting time.”

I stare at the slip and miss Koneko turning to walk away.

I follow her. “Thanks.”

She doesn’t reply, and we continue walking to the stairs. For some reason, she stops at the vending machine on the right side of the hall’s double-swinging doors.

“What?” I ask. She taps the glass. I follow her finger. “You want a snack? Okay. Buy one. I’ll wait.”

Her cheeks flush a little. “...I—no money left.”

I shrug. “Alright. I’ll buy it for you. My mother gave me a little extra today because I didn’t eat breakfast. Not that I spent it on anything since I slept all morning.”

She palms the pack of sweets, and we move on. We don’t talk the rest of the way to the club room. Koneko keeps pace beside me, a few steps behind but close enough that I can hear the crinkle of the snack wrapper in her pocket.

The others are already here. Akeno leans against the window frame, arms crossed, and with her usual smile absent. Kiba’s standing near the bookshelf, pretending to skim the spine of some occult compendium. Rias is seated in her usual spot at her desk with Asia on the same sofa as earlier.

They all look up at once when I open the door.

Rias rises. “You’re here,” she says, and the edge in her voice is… worried? Strained and tucked under her usual calm, sure, but it’s there. “How was study hall?”

“About as productive as you’d expect from someone who doesn’t want to be there.”

She opens her mouth to respond but closes it again. Instead, she gestures for me to sit. Koneko sits next to me. She opens the wrapper, and after a second’s pause, tears the entire packet clean in half without spilling anything.

One half gets tossed into my lap. I look at her.

“You bought it.”

“Thanks.” I pick a sweet out of the packet and then pass it to Asia. Her hands are folded in her lap like she’s unsure whether she’s allowed to touch anything. “Considering how tense you all are, I’m guessing you know?”

“We do,” Rias says. “Asia told us everything.”

The girl flinches.

“It’s not your fault,” I say before she can spiral.

Asia nods, but she doesn’t lift her eyes.

“That said, we wanted to hear it from you,” Rias says.

“I was flying back from the gym when Dohnaseek attacked me. Didn’t try to kill me, and he let a few interesting details slip, too, but we’ll get to that. We fought, he managed to get me pretty good, but I killed him.”

Kiba frowns. “You don’t look injured.”

I gesture to Asia. “She healed me during lunch.”

“You mentioned Dohnaseek letting something slip?” Akeno asks.

“Raynare’s phone call at lunch revealed Dohnaseek was sent to kidnap me so they could blackmail Asia to come back. And, when she couldn’t find him, Raynare decided to call anyway and bluff Asia into returning.”

Rias frowns. “I still don’t understand what it is you found out from Dohnaseek.”

“We know Raynare came to Kuoh to kill me, right?”

Everyone nods.

“Well, she seems fanatical enough that she won’t leave Kuoh until either she’s dead or I am. Dohnaseek also mentioned something about Raynare having to return to Azazel in disgrace. She came to Kuoh on his orders to kill me.”

Akeno frowns. “Azazel?”

“You know him?”

“...He’s the leader of the Fallen’s faction: the Grigori.”

“The church,” Asia says suddenly. “I-It’s abandoned and a place for stray exorcists and other fallen angels.”

“That’s… troubling,” Kiba replies.

“Also means they’re desperate,” I say. “I killed one of the fallen angels. That leaves Raynare and… how many others, Asia?”

She startles at being addressed despite having spoken a few seconds ago. It takes her a moment to answer. “...Three. There were four of them in total. Dohnaseek, Mittelt, Kalawarna, and Raynare.”

“So now it’s three,” I say. “Two if you don’t count Raynare, but I doubt she’ll keep quiet for long. We need to hit them first. My… parents are liabilities, and she doesn’t strike me as the kind of person to leave innocent people alone.”

Rias breaks the silence. “She attacked a member of our Gremory peerage. That merits a response, no?”

Akeno smiles. “The most detailed of responses, President.”

“She’s given us justification,” Kiba murmurs. “Attacking a member of our peerage without provocation violates the terms of neutrality between the factions.”

Rias nods. “Which means we can act without fear of consequence.”

“Then we descend upon them before she can plan anything.”

We nearly jump out of our socks at Ddraig’s voice coming in out of nowhere.

I look down at the Boosted Gear covering my left hand. “You know, you really need to stop doing that. I can hear you inside my head.”

“And lose the amusement of terrifying both yourself and everyone around you? Pretty soon, I’ll stop that gem from flashing on your hand when I talk, too.”

For an old dragon, you sure are childish.

“One day, you too will revel in the small amusements of your long life, Tatsumi. When that day comes, I will rejoice.”

Koneko finishes her snack and dusts her hands. “Let’s hunt.”

The Boosted Gear flashes, but I’m prepared for it this time. “Well said, girl.”

We all look at Asia, who squirms underneath our collective gaze, and the next half an hour is spent grilling the poor girl on details. The geography of the area, how far out the church is from other people, the number of entrances and exits, and the number of stray exorcists.

By the time we’re done, Akeno’s drafted a three-page list of details, and we spend the next hour brainstorming a plan of action.

“Well done, everyone,” Rias says, stretching her arms high above her head as she swallows a yawn. “On account of today’s incident, and our plans for tomorrow, I’ll spend the evening rescheduling this week’s remaining contracts to next week.

Akeno drifts over to Rias’s side. “Not to worry, President. I shall help.”

“Thank you, Akeno.”

Koneko tilts her head. “So, we’re free to go?”

“Have a restful evening—especially you, Issei.”

“I definitely will,” I reply.

Outside, the sky is a deep orange.

Kiba, Koneko, and I leave the Occult Research Club room together. The two of them are walking on either side of me, which I don’t think much of until I realise they’re still with me as I circle back to enter the new school building to collect my things.

“What are you guys doing?” I ask.

Kiba meets my gaze. “We’re going to escort you home.”

“What?” I look to Koneko, but she just nods. “Why?”

“You were attacked this morning. Who knows if Raynare has a trap lying in wait for you.”

He’s not wrong, but I somehow doubt that even Raynare would be that stupid. Though in an assassin’s line of work, it’s better to expect that anything that can go wrong probably will.

I smile. “Well, if that’s the case, she won’t be sitting inside my homeroom class. You can wait for me out here. I’ll be back before you know it.”

Kiba nods. “Alright.”

I step back into the classroom alone. The desks are in their usual messy grid. Sunlight pools against the far wall, turning the dust in the air to gold. My bag’s still on the floor right where I left it.

Except, I’m not alone.

Matsuda’s slumped in his usual seat with his feet up on the desk next over. Motohama’s beside him, thumbing through his phone. They both glance up as I enter, and there’s a weird beat of silence.

“I thought you guys went home,” I say, walking over to grab my stuff.

“We thought about it,” Motohama replies.

Matsuda shrugs, arms behind his head. “Look, man… you snapped at us.”

“I did,” I admit, hoisting my bag over a shoulder.

“Which isn’t like you,” Matsuda continues. “Even when you’re in a mood, you don’t usually tell us to stop being—uh, what was it again, dude?”

“Creepy idiots,” Motohama supplies with a frown.

“Yeah. That .”

I lean and rest my hands on a desk. The words sit in my throat for a few seconds too long. “...Sorry, guys. I’ve just been dealing with a lot lately.”

“You okay?” Matsuda asks. It’s the quietest I’ve ever heard him.

“I will be.” I look between them. “I get you two were trying to cheer me up, but… I’m tired. Of all of it.”

Matsuda wrinkles his nose. “Of girls? If so, I always knew you batted for the other team.”

“What?” I make a face. “No—what are you talking about?”

Motohama snaps his fingers. “Getting beat up by the kendo club, then? Which wouldn’t happen nearly as often if someone… Matusda… followed my plan!”

“I’ll have you know that we got beat up cause you were too slow!”

“What?” Motohama leans back and frowns. “That’s not true, you bald-headed—”

“I’m tired of doing pathetic stuff to people who don’t want to be creeped on,” I say, speaking over them both. “And since you both want girlfriends so badly, I suggest we all hit the gym sometime soon.”

Matsuda squints. “The gym?”

“You know… girls tend to like a decent body.” I gesture at them vaguely. “It’ll help with confidence, too. I’ve realised… recently.”

“Realised what?” Motohama asks.

“If you were a girl, would you date yourself?” Matsuda opens his mouth immediately. “And don’t answer on reflex. Take a moment to really think about it. Or, if anything, Motohama?”

“Yes?”

“You have a sister, right?” He nods. “Would you be comfortable knowing she had to exist with people like you, me, and this guy?”

That earns a snort from Matsuda.

“...No.”

“So, what’s it going to be?” I ask.

They share a glance, and when I meet their eyes, I see… unfamiliarity. Like they’re seeing me for the first time, and while I’m happy with that… it kind of hurts to see, too.

It’s the final confirmation that the Issei Hyoudou they knew is dead.

“Give me a day,” Motohama says. “I’ll give it some serious thought and return with an answer tomorrow.”

“That’s fine.”

Matsuda puffs out his chest. “I’m something of a sports prodigy myself, you know? I’ll blow you two out of the water.”

“A sports prodigy who hasn’t done anything sporty since our first year?” Motohama snickers. “Yeah, right.”

“Knock it off, you two. Do I have to hear you two arguing all day?” I say, standing again. “Now, come on. Let’s go. I’ve got a surprise for the two of you.”

Matsuda blinks. “A surprise?”

I leave and force the pair to follow.

We find them waiting by the school gate.

Kiba brushes his blond hair out of a pair of grey eyes. Koneko’s munching on something new that she didn’t have five minutes ago. I look at her, and she blushes at my pointed stare.

“You’ll rot your teeth if you eat too many.”

For the first time, I see something other than ambivalence in her eyes and her brow furrows. “...No.”

I smile then, seeing red in the amber of her eyes and black in the white of her hair. Gluttons like her and Akame are amusing… and memorable.

Motohama and Matsuda slow to a stop behind me.

“Boys, meet Yuuto Kiba and Koneko Toujou.” I gesture behind me. “These two morons are Kenji Motohama and Touta Matsuda. They’ll be walking home with us, too.”

Kiba gives them a small bow. “It’s a pleasure, despite your reputation, but if Hyoudou can prove me wrong, I’ll give you guys a chance.”

Koneko nods. She doesn’t even stop chewing.

Matsuda gawks. “No way. You’re friends with Kiba? Pretty boy? Enemy of all common men?”

Kiba raises an eyebrow.

“...He’s a good guy once you get to know him,” I say.

Motohama’s glasses glint in the light. He stares at Koneko like she’s an unsolvable puzzle.

“Bust: 73cm. Waist: 57. Hips: 76,” he whispers. “Loli-type perfection.”

I slam my face into my palm.

Koneko stops chewing. Her eyes narrow like she’s deciding whether to kick him through the school gates or higher. Without a word, she steps to my other side, putting me and Kiba between Motohama and Matsuda.

Kiba looks to his left at the idiot duo.

I sigh. “See what I mean?”

“...Yeah.” Matsuda winces. “Too late to pretend I don’t know him?”

“Way too late,” Kiba says.

Koneko doesn’t speak, but I’m pretty sure the wrapper she crumples in her hand is warning enough for them.

…I hope.

Chapter Text

Chapter 5: A Blood Debt Paid

It’s the end of the school week. Homework’s set and due, but my mind couldn’t be any further from all that. A more important task comes first—and today’s the day for it. As usual, I move from my homeroom to the Occult Research Club room; the journey takes me away from the newer parts of the school and past the abandoned old gymnasium we use for training.

Akeno, and now Asia, it turns out, live on the second floor of the old school building. Back in her first year at Kuoh, Rias had the entire old school building’s interior refurbished to serve as her base of operations. To me, the building seems more like a house than a school facility. There’s an orange brick wall spanning its perimeter. In front, an archway funnels in visitors, with horned devil statues patterned into the high curve.

“Come now, Asia… I promise I’ll be gentle,” I can hear Akeno crooning as I enter. Her voice drifts down from the stairs to the right side of the hall.

The velvet curtains in the club room are always drawn shut during the day. Devils won’t die in sunlight, but the sun is unpleasant to be around. It leeches the strength out of you, enough that it feels like wading through mud. Rias said I wouldn’t notice the discomfort once I was stronger, but strength isn’t something I can rush.

Besides, using the Boosted Gear for something as trivial as mild discomfort is a little pathetic—and also inefficient.

Since the lights on the ground floor are all off, I’m not left with much choice except to ascend the stairs and find Asia. I’d have preferred to avoid Akeno, honestly. Her flirting brings some bad memories to mind, but seeing that she and Asia live together, avoiding her is impossible.

It’s not like I have anything against her. I don’t even know her well, but she’s far more enigmatic than Rias. Under the flirting, Rias’s motivations aren’t difficult to pick up on—she’s got a very expressive face after all. Akeno is the opposite.

All she is to me is a constant flirtation that she constantly employs for her amusement.

Cresting the staircase, I come upon an open room. Yellow light spills free from it, alongside a blanket of vapour. There’s no point in looking further, especially since both Asia and Akeno are right in front of me. The room within is tiled like an old bathhouse from my world, with shelves of neatly folded towels, scented oils on the counter, and a rack where their school uniforms hang.

At the far end, a large soaking tub simmers with pale blue water, still rippling from movement. From where I stand, the air smells faintly of perfume, and there’s not so much as a stray cloth on either Asia or Akeno.

“M-Miss Akeno, stop this! I-I am a nun!”

Akeno giggles. She’s almost totally on top of Asia, enveloping the blonde girl’s smaller form in her own. “Then you’re quite the sinful one, no? That manga you were reading, of the two girls so wonderfully embracing? It’s mine, Sister Asia.”

Asia flushes a deep crimson. Her hands clutch uselessly at her chest in some last-ditch effort at modesty. “I—I d-don’t,” she stammers.

“Of course, I don’t mind you reading it. Feel free to, Asia.” Her voice is all smoke and sin. “I was wondering whether you’d like to… re-enact some of the scenes. Our president isn’t a fan of the work, so you’re a godsend to me.”

With her eyes darting all over for a sign of anyone watching her supposed transgressions, it wasn’t a surprise that Asia found me. I wasn’t hiding, and the bathroom door was wide open anyway.

“I-Issei!”

“Goodness,” Akeno says, facing me. She makes no effort to cover herself. “Peeking, Issei? You really do live up to your reputation.”

“I wasn’t peeking,” I say dryly, even as my face starts to burn. “I came to speak with Asia. Didn’t think I’d walk into this.”

Akeno’s laughter echoes into my ears. “Oh, you’re no fun! Where’s the perverted Issei I’ve heard so much about?”

“Raynare killed him,” I reply.

She frowns immediately, and for once, I see some remorse on her face. Looking away from her again, I hear a rustle of cloth—Asia scrambling for a towel, maybe—and then the squeak of wet footsteps on the wooden floor.

From the soft press of flesh against my chest, I don’t have to open my eyes to realise that it’s Akeno. I step back, and she steps forward, smiling, until my back’s against the wall and her chest is smashed flat against me. Her hands slip over my shoulders, around my neck, and with nowhere to look except at her…

I’m frozen to the spot by her purple eyes.

“...I was only helping her relax, you know,” she says. Her voice lilts with an innocence she doesn’t wear well, considering she’s naked and pressed right against me. “Asia’s been so tense lately. I thought a nice soak and some skinship would help loosen her up… though from what I’m feeling now, it’s doing the opposite with you. Not that I mind…”

I meet her gaze. Her left hand slips down to my chest, where her finger runs a burning circle on the surface of my school shirt. She gives a delighted hum—and well, there goes my hope that she doesn’t notice the tightness in my pants.

Not that I’m guilty, seeing that it’s her fault anyhow.

I frown at her. There’s no real malice in her that I can see, but nothing resembling Rias’s sincerity either.

“You shouldn’t toy with people like this,” I say. “If I were the same guy who fell for Raynare, I might fall for you, too. But I’m not that person anymore, and you’re making yourself really hard to trust.”

“Would falling for me be such a bad thing, Issei?” she asks, already smiling like she knows the answer is yes. “And while I might be making myself hard to trust, I’ve succeeded in making you—oh, I can’t! That’s too low-hanging, even for me.”

“Really? You had to go there?” I can feel my face burning. “This is your fault. It’s a natural reaction!”

She giggles and lays her head against my chest. Her laughter fades. I breathe in. She breathes out. “...Say, Issei. Trust can be such a fragile thing, don’t you think?”

When Akeno looks up, there’s a certain set to her face—one I didn’t expect to see. I nearly flinch at her expression; it’s one I’ve seen in the mirror plenty of times. The purest kind of self-loathing, so natural you don’t even question whether it’s deserved anymore.

But just as quickly as it pools in her purple eyes, Akeno drifts back toward the bath. The last thing she leaves me is the curve of her hips framed in the doorway until the steam blurs her form.

It’s a shame that there’s not more of it to hide her from me completely.

“Asia,” I call, keeping my eyes trained on the hall. “I’ve bought you a beginner’s book on learning Japanese. It’s got conversation bits and grammar, too.”

“T-Thank you!”

Mercifully, the bathroom door swings shut, but behind it, I hear Akeno humming a low, languid tune.

—⧬⧭⧬—

The three of us are downstairs in the common room when the rest of the peerage arrive fifteen minutes later. I’m sitting opposite Akeno. Three cups of tea alongside a tray full of various snacks sit between us on the coffee table. Asia’s beside me, shoulders hunched, legs pressed tightly together.

She’s not had a single sip of her drink yet.

Koneko is the first one in. “Hi, everyone.”

Asia smiles at her greeting while Akeno returns it and gestures the white-haired girl over. She moves around the table, drops onto the far side of the couch next to Akeno, and picks through the biscuits until she finds one she likes. She eats it in three bites without a word and then breaks another in half and nudges the piece toward Asia’s untouched saucer.

The offering forces Asia into drinking her tea to chase down the biscuit. Akeno watches her do it, amusement playing at the corner of her mouth. She’s been humming under her breath to fill the silence between the three of us and hasn’t stopped. 

Koneko apparently doesn’t mind the lack of conversation. Neither do I, but I can feel Asia’s squirming through the couch. Telling her to stop will only make her more neurotic, so I drink my tea and bear it.

The front door clicks open a moment later. Kiba steps through, hands in his pockets, and takes the final seat on the couch next to Koneko.

“I’ll go and make you a cup, Kiba,” says Akeno.

He smiles. “Thank you.”

“Hyoudou,” Kiba says suddenly, when she’s gone. “I’ve recently become aware of some… interesting art of you and me. They give you a nice back, too. Mine’s apparently very delicate.”

…Oh no.

Ddraig, of course, chooses that moment to twist the knife in deeper. “There’s no shame in it. I’ve had many wielders who preferred the company of their shield-brothers. It’s often made them all the stronger in battle.”

Shut up.

The amusement in his voice, though, makes it obvious he knows that I don’t—and it’s the same amusement that’s thickening in Kiba’s voice as he laughs at me. Koneko flicks her eyes between Kiba and me, blushes, then returns her focus to the half-empty plate of biscuits.

I sip my tea. It’s going on lukewarm now.

Kiba’s perfectly reasonable most of the time… but like Rias and Akeno, he enjoys winding people up. Not as much as Akeno, but he clearly knows how much the rumours about the two of us annoy me and enjoys my reaction.

Koneko reaches over, picks up a biscuit, and leans across the table just enough to drop it onto my saucer. Her version of a contribution to the conversation, I guess.

“Thanks, Koneko,” I say.

Kiba props his chin on a hand. “There are all these little details: like how you pin my arms over my head and—”

Asia chokes on her tea. She sets the cup down too fast and nearly knocks it over. Koneko picks up another biscuit, snaps it in half, and eats both pieces herself. Akeno’s humming drifts back in from the kitchen along with the clink of porcelain and the soft gurgle of a kettle.

She’s holding Kiba’s cup against a saucer when she returns, its steam trailing behind her.

“Oh my,” she says. “Should I be jealous, Issei? I thought I was the only one who got to feel your firm touch.”

She sets Kiba’s cup in front of him, but keeps her eyes on me. Asia tries to shrink beside me, but there’s nowhere left to go on the couch.

Kiba takes a sip from his tea. “I wonder what our President thinks about the art. Has she seen it yet? It’s very popular with our school’s girls. I imagine she’d have lots of things to say.”

Right then, we all hear the unmistakable click of Rias’s heeled footfalls grow closer. 

“Have I seen what, Yuuto?” she asks.

Rias sets down her bag on the floor and walks to the armchair at the head of the coffee table. Akeno rises to make Rias a cup of tea.

Kiba leans back into the sofa’s arm, watching her reaction with a shark’s grin. “Art of me and Hyoudou. Supposedly, we’re quite the pair.”

Koneko, after greeting Rias, goes back to nudging half a biscuit toward my saucer. Small mercies in the face of Kiba’s needling.

A smile flickers at the corner of Rias’s mouth. “Is that so? Last week, some of the girls in Akeno and I’s study hall were busy with something, but I didn’t realise you were providing so much inspiration, Issei.”

Akeno sets Rias’s cup down in front of her and settles back into her seat, legs crossed and her smile folded just behind the rim of her cup. “From what I hear, they’ve long-since decided who’s on top and who’s the bottom.”

Rias smiles at my slack expression. “And who’s the bottom, I wonder.”

Kiba presses his knuckles to his mouth to stifle a laugh, but there’s no point in hiding his laughter when his shoulders are quivering just to hold it back. “Me, of course. Hyoudou’s become a thug on top of his perversion, according to the kendo club.”

“Issei can be quite the rough lover, President,” says Akeno. Her gaze fixes on me for a moment. “Asia knows, don’t you?”

“...N-No.” Her hands flutter uselessly over her empty cup.

“It seems Issei’s hands are quite busy these days. First Kiba, and now me. I was close enough that I even felt his virile—”

Rias sets down her cup with a deliberately sharp clink. “That’s quite enough bullying, Yuuto, Akeno. Poor Issei looks rather uncomfortable, no?”

“Apologies, Hyoudou,” says Kiba, sounding very insincere.

Akeno’s lips part like she has more to say, but instead, her teeth flash in a small, sly smile. “Awfully sorry, Issei. I do lose myself in my passions sometimes. I’ll make it up to you.” She sits back with perfect posture and nods. “Yes, it’s a promise. You too, Asia.”

“O-Oh, that’s not necessary, Miss Akeno,” she stammers out. “I know you were just trying to make me feel welcome.”

“But it is necessary. Tell you what, dear, I’ll help you with your Japanese every weekend, okay?”

Asia’s smile can only be described as radiant. “Then, thank you.”

Rias interrupts with a light cough. “We move after sunset, everyone. Till then, make your preparations. Change into something more battle-ready, too. Does anyone need anything from me?”

I relax—the conversation’s finally moved to more familiar ground.

“I need a sword,” I say. “Or a spear. Either’s fine.”

“Kiba?”

He nods at Rias’s call. “On it.”

Akeno slips upstairs, presumably to get ready. Kiba moves to the corner of the room, where a magic circle forms at his feet. I take my bag to the kitchen and change out my uniform into a pair of jogging bottoms, though I leave my red undershirt on.

One more hour, and Raynare’s life is forfeit.

—⧬⧭⧬—

The church squats at the end of a dead road. Rotting beams stand exposed, rows of abandoned houses run adjacent to it, and an iron cross on the steeple hangs from a rusted bolt.

We hover high above the building in a loose circle.

Rias drifts forward, her hair billowing like a torn flag in the wind. Akeno is just behind her, fingertips crackling with small forks of lightning. Honestly, our entire presence here together is unnecessary. Either one of them could go down alone and wipe the place clean in minutes.

But this is for me, and I do this for Issei Hyoudou.

Akeno lifts her hand. The air tastes sharp, like metal scorched too long. She looks over her shoulder at me and smiles.

Crimson power coils around Rias’s wrist, twisting the air. She forms a small ball of dark light. It’s almost funny how gently the ball descends, slow and weightless, but it hits the roof like a thrown boulder. Rotten wood snaps and flies skyward, and rended tiles hurl into dead trees. The rusted cross snaps in half and shatters on the stone steps below.

There’s no sign of life for one long moment, then, two dark shapes burst up through the smoke. I make out pairs of black-feathered wings until the shapes slow. A small, blonde fallen angel twirls above the wreckage. The taller one, hair long and pale under the moon, floats higher with her arms crossed under her chest.

Both remain a stone’s throw below.

“Well, well, devils at the door,” the small blonde one says, looking up at me. “Dohnaseek was a stuffy old bastard, but I’ll have to avenge him, you know.”

The taller one laughs. “Your death won’t be easy. Apparently, he squealed so nicely the first time, didn’t he, Mittelt? I’m looking forward to seeing if Raynare was telling the truth.”

The storm in Akeno’s palm swells, bigger, brighter, and angrier.

“Yuuto. Koneko. Issei. Go down below and deal with the rest.” Rias’s blue eyes capture mine, and she smiles. “This certainly counts as enemy territory, Issei—promote to any piece you see fit. When you find Raynare, she’s yours. Akeno and I will deal with these two. They won’t get away with mocking your death.”

Akeno’s laugh lacks any humour. She flicks her fingers skyward, and the first arc of lightning snaps Mittelt towards the horizon. The taller fallen angel hurls a spear of light at us, only for a crackling crimson orb to destroy it.

Kiba floats to my left. Koneko ghosts in at my right, rolling her shoulders. Below us, the hole in the church’s roof yawns wide. Candles flicker in the nave like fireflies, and metal artefacts catch what’s left of the moonlight.

Dozens of rogue exorcists flood the nave with their weapons bared. Some remain in the building, but just as many launch themselves through windows and fire their holy rounds into the sky.

“Promotion: Knight,” I say, unsheathing the sword at my back using my right hand.

The Boosted Gear clamps onto my left hand.

“BOOST!”

Kiba claps my shoulder once. Koneko tucks her wings in and drops first. We plummet after her. She angles herself to fall in front of the exorcists gathering outside. Kiba follows her down, but I go straight through the demolished roof and hit the church floor hard.

The rogue exorcists come fast. Three in front, four to the flank. The nearest one charges and raises a visibly cheap sword high. I step inside his arc and slam the pommel of my sword into his teeth. His hands drop below his shoulders, and the instant they do, I behead him.

The next swings wide. I let the blade whistle past my shoulder, turn, and ram my elbow into his throat. His neck crunches around the blow.

Something heavy screeches across the floor behind me. Koneko must have clambered through a window. She lifts a pew off the ground and hurls it across the room. Then, she grabs a man by the wrist and flings him sideways through four other exorcists.

“BOOST!”

A blade rakes low in my peripheral vision. I skip back and drag my sword under his arm and send the dead limb sky high. Warm blood spatters my wrist. He tries to scream, but I slash his throat and let him fall.

“D-Die, you monster!” a female voice screeches behind me, and I twist on my feet. A shot goes off, but not near me. Kiba bounces off the broken walls, moving faster than any of them can aim.

Another exorcist lunges at me. I catch the cheap edge on the Boosted Gear and drag him into my knee. His nose collapses in a spurt of warmth across my thigh.

The Boosted Gear’s third call marks the time since we descended on the church. “BOOST!”

One of the few exorcists left tries to escape through the destroyed door. Koneko drags him back by the collar and caves his chest in. The last three circle the fallen pew, eyes flicking to each other for courage.

The first breaks formation with a desperate swing at my neck. I duck under it, hook my heel behind his, and shove him over my foot. He tries to scramble away, but I pin him under my foot and bring my sword down.

Watching him gurgle, the second bolts for the door, but Kiba’s blade sinks into her thigh. She drops screaming, for all that it takes him to summon another sword that he plunges through her.

The last backs away, muttering a prayer under his breath, too quiet to hear. I step over a corpse, and he flinches. I could let him run—but these are the same people aiding Raynare and Freed Sellzen. I cross the distance in one stride to match his three retreating ones, parry his swing, and bury my sword under his ribs.

His breath hitches out in a soft, startled sigh. I yank the blade free. Blood drips hot down my fingers. Kiba wipes his sword on a dead man’s priest habit. Koneko wrinkles her nose at the gore on her knuckles.

Beyond the broken altar, a door hangs open—somehow untouched by both Rias’s aerial bombardment and our skirmish. Cold air seeps up the stairs… but beyond the sconces burning the path downwards, I can’t see anything.

“BOOST!”

My grip tightens on my sword’s hilt. The Boosted Gear hums alive around my free hand.

Kiba smiles. “Well, there’s nowhere else to go except down.”

“Then let’s go down,” I reply.

The stairwell curls down into rot. Candlelight shudders along the slick stone walls. We reach a landing: a rusted iron gate hangs open to the side, twisted by some previous force, and the room beyond is large—once a crypt, maybe—and is lit in hellish orange.

There’s a crude altar in the centre. Raynare stands atop it. Her black wings arch behind her. What she wears now is a hybrid between mockery and armour—some high-slit thing made of dark leather showing more flesh than it protects.

She might as well be naked for all the good it does her.

“Issei. So you came after all. No nun? Well, it’s a pity, but I suppose I’ll have my fun by torturing the answer out of you,” she says, smiling sweetly, until she sees the Boosted Gear. “I-Is that—no, it can’t be!”

The emerald gem on my wrist flashes. “Raynare, was it? You’re far more stupid than I gave you credit for. Are you to tell me that, not only did you kill my host, but you did it without knowing what sacred gear he possessed?”

She swallows thickly, but doesn’t reply to Ddraig’s words.

“...In any case, you left him bleeding in the dark, so it’s only fitting that your cruelty be repaid to you.”

I take a step forward. She watches me warily, but looking at my face seems to inspire some strange confidence in her.

“Did you enjoy our date?” she asks, tilting her head. Her smile is suddenly gentle. “I know you worked so hard to make it special.”

“Raynare.”

“Not Yuuma?” She smiles like she’s disappointed to hide the nerves. “You’re all here for me, then? Is this a group execution?”

“No,” I say. “Just me.”

Her empty smile swells with confidence and turns ugly. “I remember the look in your eyes when I ran you through. That pathetic little hope that maybe I’d say sorry, or kiss you before you went. Heh. You really died thinking I cared.”

My grip on my sword tightens.

Raynare’s wings flex behind her. She forms a spear of light and points it at the Boosted Gear. “When I told you to blame God for granting you that sacred gear, I wasn’t sure what sacred gear you possessed—but my instincts told me it was a dangerous one!”

“BOOST!”

She freezes, and I don’t waste a single second.

That’s enough boosting, Ddraig.

“EXPLOSION!”

A raging heat floods through me and spurs me on. My sword cleaves through the space she stood a heartbeat before. Steel chips off hard-light as she barely forms a spear in time to block me. The strike still sends her rushing to meet the crypt’s high roof. Her wings flare to stop her ascent, but I don’t give her the time to breathe.

I fly up to her and ready myself to swing. She hurls down two light spears at once. I smash them aside, but the holy weapons melt two-thirds of my blade away. Our eyes lock. I slam whatever’s left of the sword into her shoulder, leave it in her, and hurl her to the ground.

Raynare screams, even as her wings twist to slow her fall. She lands hard, one knee down. I descend on her and crack the stone beneath us.

“I’m going to rip your heart out for that,” she snarls under my boot.

I grind my foot into her even more. She gasps and moans as something crunches under my heel.

“F—F-Fuck you, you ingrate,” Raynare says between pained breaths.

Light flashes into her grip. I use her back as leverage to flip back, only she raises the spear when my feet hit the ground. I throw myself to the side just in time, and Raynare buries half its length into the ground.

If I wanted to, I could’ve killed her with my first attack—but while Raynare deserves death, no one said her death would be easy.

I barrel forward and drive my elbow into her sternum. Her wings go rigid.

“Kiba!” I yell. “Give me something that’ll hurt.”

I watch him pull a pulsing crimson straight sword out of the ground. “Oh, this one’ll hurt, alright.”

He throws it. Raynare is on her knees. I catch the hilt and raise the blade. Her eyes go wide. She backpedals, slips in her blood, and lands hard against the altar.

Raynare looks like she might plead. Her lips twitch, but nothing comes out. The blade comes down and carves straight through her collarbone. The sword splits her open from her right shoulder to the left hip, and catches on bone for all of a second before I rip it free.

A wave of fire erupts from the gash. Her ribs glow through the smoke and flames curling out of her gut.

Raynare doesn’t scream at first. She just… twitches, mouth and eyes wide. A half-breath escapes her like a sob—and then a scream so full of panic it barely sounds human rips out of her. Black feathers sink through the air as her wings flail, and she rolls onto her back and thrashes.

Meat and copper, and burned leather wafts into my face.

“PLEASE! PLEASE—” She chokes on the agony. “I-IT HURTS! I G-GET IT—STOP, PLEASE, I-ISSEI!”

The fire clings to her, crawls up her back, and licks at her from the inside out. Her right wing catches next.

“I’M SORRY—J-JUST STOP—”

“Why should I?”

She freezes halfway through her crawl and howls, sobbing out great heaving breaths. I circle behind her. She tries to look over her shoulder. Only one eye meets mine. I drive the sword through her back.

Raynare’s voice breaks. Her body locks up. Flames rush down the blade, setting her spine alight. The heat washes over me. Her wings—one all charred bone and the other dark feathered—curl inwards, then turn to ash.

I let go of the sword. It hisses inside her. Then, for the first time since I woke in this world, I breathe without weight.

The air stirs as Rias comes to a stop next to me. Akeno’s heels click lightly against stone as she circles Raynare’s charred corpse. Koneko brushes past me on her way out. Kiba pats my shoulder. Akeno gives me a long, unreadable look before following the others up the stairs, but Rias lingers.

“Let’s go, Issei,” she says. “You’ve done what you came here to do.”

I don’t answer, but in the end, I follow her.

Chapter Text

Interlude 1: Oblivion

Power flows back and forth like a tide against the shore here. That ebb and flow is Ddraig’s breath. He is all that is alive here. His vast form sits coiled in the crimson dark of the Boosted Gear, folded among that which forms the connection between Tatsumi and him. If he so wished, Ddraig could watch the world through Tatsumi’s eyes and watch every petty classroom squabble, but most times, he prefers not to unless called upon.

Over the centuries, Ddraig has grown accustomed to the dreariness of solitude. Still, he is a warrior, no matter how well he tunes out the constant restlessness. The Red Dragon Emperor has passed through countless hands and hearts over the centuries, and most of them, Ddraig remembers with disinterest or outright contempt. Some were driven by greed, clutching for power to hoard like misers. Others were consumed by ambition, burning through their strength in the pursuit of crowns. Too many were paralysed by fear, begging him for salvation.

Tatsumi is not like them. He made a promise and delivered by immolating the fallen sow who murdered Issei Hyoudou. When Ddraig had asked for vengeance, Tatsumi gave it without hesitation. Had he not watched the boy’s life, that alone would have earned his respect.

There will be a time, as there always is, when Albion will appear to do battle. The White Dragon Emperor, bound to his mortal host, will find his way to Tatsumi, and their old war will resume through new hands. That meeting is inevitable, as it has been for centuries: the same battle scrawled over and over in history’s margins, the faded pages rewritten in their hosts’ fresh blood.

But there is no need to drag his host’s eyes toward a battle that cannot yet be fought. Unlike some of his predecessors, Tatsumi does not need to be nudged to seek strength. He has his ambitions to realise. Better to let him prepare without knowing he prepares for the time being. What his current partner needs is the opposite of a war on the horizon.

A ripple disturbs the Gear’s quiet. Ddraig feels the drag against his tide of power at once. He uncoils, rising from his rest. The red expanse that he is bends as he moves, and the groundless floor trembles under the scrape of his claws.

There he sees it. In the farthest corner of the Gear’s inner sea, something besides himself breathes. The shadows there are thick, reluctant to part for him. Within them, a grey shape uncoils with the ponderous certainty of a predator that has never known fear. Then the outline sharpens: jagged plates of scale, horns like fractured blades, eyes that glow a molten orange.

A maw lined with teeth like broken swords gapes at him, hot breath rolling out in salivating, uneven bursts. Those of Tatsumi’s world called this mere beast a dragon. To equate this witless, wingless brute with his kind is like calling a crow an eagle because they both have feathers. 

Tyrant is ruled by nothing more than appetite. Predictably, its hungry molten eyes lock on him. There’s hunger there, and certainly bloodlust, but no intelligence. Even beyond the grave, the beast knows Tatsumi’s soul. Rage and hunger tighten its muscles.

Ddraig rises taller than Tyrant, far more powerful, every line of his vast form promising the death that is coming. Tyrant roars a challenge. The sound has no language or thought in it, except the mindless certainty of a beast that believes itself superior to him.

And that cannot stand.

Ddraig moves. Their clash is not flesh on flesh but soul on soul, power grinding against power until the very air of the Boosted Gear’s domain trembles. The beast’s bulk slams into him, claws tearing gouges into his incorporeal hide, seeking to rip open a place in this domain that is not his.

Ddraig meets the assault head-on. Talons like scythes sink into false scale, tearing through sinew and bone. He drives Tyrant down, the impact cracking the crimson floor in spiderweb patterns beneath them.

The pretender writhes, its tail coiling around his foreleg in a desperate bid for leverage. Ddraig growls, a sound like mountains grinding together, and surges forward. His claws scythe into Tyrant’s shoulders, parting armour and muscle as though they were wet paper.

Pinned, the beast thrashes, slashing at his flanks. Ddraig’s weight crushes it flat. He drives a foreclaw deep into its gut, hooks upward, and rips from navel to throat. Steam and the reek of spilt entrails roll into the void.

“You would have hollowed him out,” Ddraig lowers his head, voice rumbling like distant thunder, “until nothing remained but your hunger. You seek to supplant me and do the same, gnat?”

His jaws snap down on the exposed meat. The first of his bites takes half the ribcage; the second shatters the sternum with a wet, crunching crack. He tears strips free and swallows them whole, the taste bitter with the echoes of long-done battles.

Some from Tatsumi’s own life, others from hosts long before. One Ddraig recognises as Bulat, Tatsumi’s master.

Tyrant’s forearm lashes toward his face. Ddraig catches the joint in his teeth and rips it free in a spray of spectral gore. He gulps it down without pause. Another bite takes the other shoulder, then the wing-joint, each piece disappearing into his gullet as the beast’s strength bleeds away.

At last, he pins what remains—little more than a mangled head and spine—beneath his claw. The orange light in its eyes flickers, weak yet starving all the same. Ddraig meets that mindless gaze for a long moment, then lowers his jaws and bites through skull and neck in one final, crushing snap. Bone shatters; teeth grind; and then he chews slowly before swallowing all that Tyrant will ever be.

Nothing remains of the beast, save what Ddraig has taken into himself. No scrap of flesh, nor fragment of soul. The tide steadies, and his bloodlust wanes. Ddraig licks phantom blood from his fangs and coils back into his vigil.

The taste lingers, bitter and satisfying all at once. There is no glory in killing a mindless thing, but he is satisfied in freeing Tatsumi of this lesser being’s influence. The sacred gear is as much Ddraig’s prison as it is his dominion, and nothing dwells within its walls without his leave.

There will be no third life.

Chapter Text

Chapter 6: Somehow, a Nun Moved In

“Issei!”

“Dude!”

It’s the very next morning after I killed Raynare. I went straight home, parting ways with the peerage once we returned to Kuoh proper. That said, I couldn’t fall asleep, so I went to the gym at eleven o’clock—but even that hadn’t helped with the restlessness in the end. Revenge on Issei’s behalf had given me a sense of purpose that I was beginning to miss.

Five hours of sleep was all I could manage, and it left me slow to start and perpetually confused.

Motohama and Matsuda losing their minds on either side of me isn’t helping at all. I’m surprised, too—not for the same reason they are, but that’s beside the point. See, the new student is just about the last person I expected to see this early in the day.

“Hi!” Bright green eyes and blonde hair stand out against the class’s blackboard. “I’m Asia Argento, from Italy. Nice to meet you all!”

“Her Japanese isn’t bad, huh?” Motohama says.

Matsuda straightens. “I-Is she… is she looking at me?”

“Steady on, Matsuda! Here she comes!”

Asia weaves between the desks, smiling at greetings and introductions until she reaches our justifiably branded ‘pervert corner’ of the class. Matsuda swallows thickly. Motohama clears his throat as she approaches.

“Issei, look!” Asia says, spinning around with her arms wide. “I’ve always wanted to go to school, and I love how comfortable the uniform is!”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but why are you here?” I ask.

She looks away sheepishly. “A-After Miss Rias returned last night, she asked whether I’d be interested in joining her peerage.”

“...Did you?”

She gives an emphatic shake of her head. “As grateful as I am to all of you, I don’t want to be a devil. The church may have thrown me out, but I still live by the Lord’s commandments.”

“Good… that’s good.” I lean back into my chair, relieved. “But then, why would she let you stick around you being a nun and all?”

“I’m excommunicated, which helps, but I’ve also been officially employed by Miss Rias as your peerage’s... human liaison? I can’t remember the exact term, but I’m paid to heal you all. One day, I’d like to open a clinic to heal everyone with my god given power, so I’m going to school to acquire the necessary credentials!”

“Oh. That’s… rather nice, actually. But where will you stay? Don’t tell me you’re going to remain holed up in the club room, are you?”

Asia blushes. “I-I was meaning to, u-um, talk to you about that. Would it be possible for—”

“What the fuck!” Matsuda yells, spittle flying free from his mouth. “When did you learn to speak Italian, Issei?”

“What?” I say, turning on him with a frown. “What are you—”

Then, I catch the stares of every single person in the class, including our homeroom teacher. Usually, the woman oscillates between unconsciousness, slumped behind a stack of papers, or exhaustion, while nursing a cup of coffee between her hands.

Even she’s wide awake.

Ddraig… help.

There’s no response—not even the usual press of his presence against my nape. I frown. He’s not always watching through my eyes, and I’m not sure what he does inside the Boosted Gear, but Ddraig’s never ignored me before.

Matsuda clears his throat.

“O-Oh,” I say, working my jaw to think up a believable lie. “Asia’s my Italian pen pal. I’ve been studying Italian for a year because she wanted to go to school here, right, Asia?”

“Yes!” Due to her limited Japanese, that tends to be her go-to answer for most things.

…Though knowing Matsuda and Motohama, it might be prudent to warn her. Those two might’ve committed to improving, but if only change could happen that quickly.

“I didn’t know you were studious in your spare time, Hyoudou,” our homeroom teacher says with an appraising gaze behind circular-rimmed glasses.

The rest of the class ranges anywhere between feral envy from the boys and scathing looks from the girls. Both, however, seem to be saying the same things about me:

“Two hot foreign girls? That two-timing perverted bastard!”

“Is he cheating on Rias Gremory with Asia Argento?”

I scan the room, looking for anyone willing to take a reasonable stance, and come up short. Three familiar girls are scowling at me, each wearing a coloured ribbon in their hair. The pink-haired one’s is white, and the two brown-haired girls wear a red and blue ribbon, respectively.

For the life of me, I can’t remember their names, but I know for a fact that they’re the Kendo Club girls who caught Matsuda and Motohama peeping on them two weeks ago. The angriest girl out of the three is familiar.

All at once, her baleful glare and that blue ribbon come rushing back on a tidal wave of guilt. I slump forward, defeated. There’s no redeeming Issei Hyoudou’s abysmal reputation. He and these two morons to my left and right have ruined their potential to befriend anyone until they graduate.

—⧬⧭⧬—

“Stand, Hyoudou!”

I crack my eyes open to three girls crowding over me, each with a coloured ribbon in their hair. Then, I hear the ringing of the lunchtime bell and realise I once again slept through all the morning’s classes.

There’s a light weight on my shoulder. I turn, and Asia pulls her hand off my shoulder like she’s touched a naked flame.

“Where’s Motohama and Matsuda?” I ask.

“We told your pervert friends to get lost,” says the pink-haired girl.

The tallest girl has eyes the colour of honey and a red ribbon tying her hair into a ponytail. “Quiet, Katase. You promised you’d let Kaori do the talking.”

“But Murayama!” Katase pouts, even as she’s pulled away from me.

That leaves the unnamed girl with the blue ribbon in her hair—Kaori—to frown down her nose at me.

“In that case, why is Asia here?” I ask, rubbing the flake out of my eyes. “Your business is with me, right?”

“Why else do you think? To save her from your degeneracy!” Kaori crosses her arms. “Asia, do you know the kind of person Hyoudou is?”

Asia frowns. “...I’m not sure I appreciate the way you’re talking about my friend. Issei’s been nothing but kind to me.”

“Why do you think that is? He wants to get into your pants!”

Katase nods along.

I’m not going to win this argument, so I shoulder my backpack and rise. “If that’s all, I think I’m going to have some lunch now.”

Asia follows me and frowns at the three girls as we move past them.

“W-Wait!” Kaori runs around the desks to stand in front of us. She stomps her way into me, but her shorter frame forces her to crane her neck up to meet my gaze. “I-I challenge you to a duel, Hyoudou!”

I sigh and look behind me at Katase and Murayama. “Why should I agree?”

Murayama folds her arms. “Because you owe her for hurting her after we caught you and your friends peeping on us. You’re no man if you run away from a duel. Where’s your pride?”

“And if I have no pride?”

Katase, who’s even shorter than Kaori, bounces on her feet. “Then, at least we’ll know for sure you’re a coward and a pervert!”

I return my gaze to Kaori, who’s glaring up at me hard enough to set my face on fire.

“Okay,” I say. “Let’s say I accept. What are the terms?”

Kaori blinks. “T-Terms?”

“You said it’s a duel. People usually wager something on these kinds of things. It’s not like we’re fighting to the death, right?”

She straightens her back. “If I win, you stop talking to Asia.”

Asia hears her name and an immediate frown crawls over her face.

“And you stop harassing every girl in school. No more peeking, no more creepy upskirt shots, and no more hiding in the Kendo Club’s equipment room!”

I scratch the back of my head. “Fine. And if I win?”

“Yeah, right. Like that’s going to happen.”

“I’m not agreeing unless there’s something in it for me. I’ve got nothing to gain by fighting you.”

Murayama sighs, and we turn to her. “Just agree to something stupid. It’s not like he’s going to win.”

“If by some miracle you win…” Kaori clutches at her chin in thought. “Can I discuss it with them?”

I shrug, and she rushes past me. The three girls huddle for a moment. I can’t hear much besides whispers until there’s a very audible “That’s way too much!” from Kaori. She’s red in the face and half-hiding behind Murayama.

Katase walks up to me, brushing her straight pink locks behind an ear. “...If you win, we’ll send you a photo.”

“A photo of what?”

“Of us—in the school’s swimwear!”

I blink. “Swimwear?”

“That’s too conservative for you?” Katase’s lips curve up. “Alright, we’ll sweeten the deal and make it a bikini pic.”

Murayame pulls her away by the scruff of her school shirt. “Katase, what the hell!”

The girl who’d challenged me is completely hidden behind Murayama as she and Katase argue, and the duel lies there in the air, forgotten.

“Are you out of your mind?!”

“It’s not like he can win!”

“And if he does? By some miracle!”

“Then we’ll send it! Don’t think I haven’t seen you trying on my—”

“Hey,” I interrupt them before I hear more about them than I care to. “When’s this duel anyhow? I’d prefer to get it done sooner rather than later if it’s all the same to you.”

The three girls look at each other and smile.

Kaori shows her face again. “How about right now?”

“But it’s lunchtime,” I say.

“You want to eat? I wouldn’t recommend it. If you hurl, we’re going to make you clean it up.”

With that warning, the three girls leave.

“What was that about?” Asia asks.

“You don’t want to know.”

“Tell me!”

I do, and predictably, Asia begins to tear up. “Issei, why did you agree?”

“You don’t think I’m going to lose, do you?”

The idea of upsetting me by saying ‘yes’ seems to bother her more than the fact that I agreed to the duel. Instead, Asia frowns adorably and stomps off. I say adorable, because I can see the edge of her blonde head outside the door.

As angry as she is, she’s still waiting for me.

“Come on,” I say, walking past her and trying not to laugh.

I realise, as the tang of old sweat fills my nose, that Issei’s never been inside the Kendo club room before. The girls hand me a practice sword and some protective gear, and then leave me to my own devices. There’s no one else in the room besides us, and Asia stands off to the side with Katase to keep her company.

Kaori steps forward in a ready stance.

“First to two points,” Murayama says.

Kaori bows to me, and I hurry to reciprocate. Akame did the same right before beating me black and blue. The sight takes me back to the countless spars in the first base in the courtyard—Bulat cheering me on, Leone and Lubbock placing bets, Chelsea watching.

And Mine… well, being Mine. Safe to say, the unbidden memory is enough to distract me at the moment of attack.

Kaori aims a sharp swing at my head. I turn my shoulder just enough to avoid the blow, and she backs off, only for her second strike to come in towards my stomach. She misses, but before her arms reel in, I step inside her reach and press the tip of my shinai against her chest.

Murayama calls out a point against her, and Kaori scowls behind her protective helmet.

I back off for a moment as she swings her sword down. I catch the blow on my weapon’s edge and push against it. Kaori struggles against me for a moment before abruptly slipping under my sword. The lack of resistance sends me forward, and the point of her blade rams into my stomach.

It’s an inefficient attack that, in a real fight, would risk her being stabbed through the back, but it worked on me. The score between us is dead even now. We reset. The room tightens. Kaori lunges, pressing firmly against my sword, but once again, I push her back.

I see the flash of white teeth through her helmet and get ready to punish her for using the same move again. But to my surprise, Kaori actually pushes against me, so I lean into the attack and shove her away. Instead of stumbling, she leans back, plants her back foot, and holds her sword high.

I pivot around the downward strike and swing into her exposed stomach. Kaori stiffens, breath catching behind the wire mask, and steps back.

Murayama’s voice rings out, “Point, Hyoudou! That’s two.”

Kaori’s shoulders slump as she pulls off her helmet. Her face is flushed red.

“I guess I win,” I say.

She glares.

“But I want to apologise for the peeping.” I remove my helmet. “I’m trying to be better… but well, that doesn’t mean I can pretend mistakes weren’t made. I’m sorry to all of you.”

“...I’ll keep up my end of the bargain,” she says, looking away.

I look at Murayama and Katase. “You guys don’t have to, really.”

“Issei Hyoudou refusing a racy pic?” Katase smiles. “Now I’ve seen it all.”

Murayama frowns. “Are you looking down on us? You fought and won. A deal’s a deal.”

I slump—I didn’t even ask for the pictures, but there’s no way I’ll talk them out of it after winning.

“Maybe you’re not as much of a lost cause as I thought,” says Kaori, smiling at me.

Murayama adds, “Just don’t get too comfortable. We’ll be watching you. That said, it’s true that you don’t seem as perverted as before.”

“Kind of thuggish though,” Katase says. “But in a… hot way?”

“Katase!”

“What? It’s the hair!”

I shake my head as they start bickering again. I’m better off steering clear of their argument.

Asia runs up to me. “You did it!”

“Yep,” I say. “So, what now?”

“Lunch?” she asks.

“I could eat.”

—⧬⧭⧬—

The Kendo Club girls whisked Asia away the moment the final bell sounded. They told me it wouldn’t take long, but since Motahama and Matsuda had already left, I couldn’t do much except stand outside the school and wait for her. Rias told me in advance last night that there wouldn’t be any club-related stuff today on account of handling the fallout from the Raynare incident.

I don’t know much about the politics of the supernatural world. The three factions hate each other, but because of a lack of manpower, they’re locked in a period of quiet feuding. Raynare is a member of the Grigori, which says bad things about the current non-aggression stance between the three factions if she were sent to cause trouble.

“Issei!”

I can feel my facial muscles relaxing at the sound of Asia’s voice. Backpack in hand, she’s running towards the open gate, alone.

“Where are the Kendo Club girls?”

Asia slows as she reaches me. “Club practice.”

“What did they want?”

“I joined the Kendo Club!”

“Really?” I say.

The reveal takes me aback a little. Asia doesn’t seem like the combatant type… but maybe this’ll be good for her.

She nods. “Mhm! The girls were all really nice. Besides, a healthy body is a healthy mind.”

“I’ll take the aspiring doctor’s word on it, then.”

Asia laughs, and we walk in silence for a long while. The late afternoon crowd has largely thinned out by the time we pass the high street corner. Salarymen on bikes pass us by alongside students with half-unbuttoned blazers. Every so often, Asia glances up at me like she wants to say something, then thinks better of it.

Eventually, she stops walking.

I turn. “What’s up?”

Her fingers tighten around the strap of her bag until her knuckles go pale. “…Can I stay with you?”

“Sorry—what?”

“I-I mean—after what happened with Raynare, Miss Rias suggested I move in with you. I’m really sorry to ask this way. I tried to earlier, but, u-um… your friend w-with the shaved head kind of interrupted.” Asia bows quickly. “I won’t be a burden. I promise! I’ll cook and clean and—”

“Hey,” I say, cutting her off. “It’s fine. You don’t have to sell me on it.”

She blinks up at me. “I-I don’t?”

“No. You’re not going to be sleeping under a bridge or anything. Just… give me a second to figure out what to tell my parents. Any reason why Rias said you couldn’t live in the club room?”

“O-Oh, she didn’t!” Asia looks at the ground. “Living with Miss Akeno… it’s fun, but very exhausting. I’m going to save the wage Miss Rias pays me until I can rent someplace nearby, but until then, I was hoping to live a little more quietly.”

I immediately sympathise with her—Akeno, while thoughtful, brings with her a fair amount of stress, too. Besides, Asia’s smile makes me feel like I made the right choice… but convincing Issei’s parents to let a random girl stay with us won’t be easy.

By the time we reach the house, the sun is a weak bruise behind the clouds. A cool breeze kicks up dust in the yard as we open the front gate. I stand at the door for a full fifteen seconds before opening it.

Asia adjusts her bag strap.

“Just follow my lead,” I mutter.

We step inside. Issei’s mother is in the kitchen, wearing a pastel apron with more stains than colour left. His father looks up from the couch, TV remote in hand. Asia and I are standing in a strange part of the hallway where we can see Issei’s father and mother, both of whom are in adjacent rooms.

“Oh!” Issei’s mother says, lighting up. “Welcome back, honey… uh, who’s this lovely girl?”

“This is Asia. She’s… a pen pal, from Italy,” I say, as Asia bows politely.

Issei’s father raises an eyebrow. “Pen pal?”

“Uh-huh.” I forge ahead. “From Italy, a country in Europe. I’ve been talking to her for about a year. She transferred over to finish high school, but doesn’t have anywhere to stay right now. Her host family situation fell through, so I figured—just for a little while—she could, you know…”

“Live here?” Issei’s father finishes.

“Temporarily,” I clarify. “Very temporarily.”

“Is that why you’ve been so different?” Issei’s mother asks.

“…Huh?”

“These past few weeks, you’ve been like an entirely different person. Waking up early, doing the dishes without complaining, going to the gym—your father and I thought it was because you wanted to impress that lovely Rias—but you even cleaned out your room!”

I freeze. “I—u-uh, yes?”

She turns to Asia. “I’m sorry, dear, but you know he has a girlfriend already, right? Rias Gremory? A third year at the school? Don’t let my son take you for a fool. As perverted as he can be, my Issei has a good heart underneath that awful libido.”

I’m not sure how much of that sentence Asia understood, but it’s enough that I can see that she’s hurt. Her posture tightens, like she’s absorbing a blow and trying not to show it. It’s not as if I’m blind to her feelings, but I just don’t reciprocate them.

Truthfully, I assumed she’d move past them on her own… but maybe I’ll have to be direct soon.

“I-I’m just Issei’s friend,” Asia says quickly. “Nothing’s going on b-between us!”

“Well, at least we know our son has a type, dear. Foreign girls, huh?” Issei’s father says, stretching with a groan, “Besides, it’s a full house now. Our guest room doesn’t see much use, except for when some old friends come to visit, so you can stay as long as you need to.”

She bows until her backpack slides into the back of her head. “Thank you!”

Issei’s mother hides her laughter behind a hand and ushers me down the hallway to get her settled.

Dinner is about as awkward as Asia’s introduction. Not catastrophic—but still stilted enough that I wish time could pass faster. Issei’s father is practically nudging his wife with his eyebrows every time Asia talks to me. Unlike her husband, Issei’s mother shoots me disapproving looks every so often.

I don’t blame her—it’s not a good look from their point of view—but her judgement isn’t much after the Kuoh Academy rumour mill took my supposed cheating on Rias and ran for the hills with it.

Asia seems to enjoy their attention, though. She asks about their work as best as she can, compliments Issei’s mother’s cooking, and laughs when Issei’s father tells a terrible joke about German sausages being the “wurst” despite Asia being Italian. To her credit, she fits in like she’s always been here.

Fits in more than I do, anyhow, wearing their son’s face, so I keep eating and nodding.

And right as I swallow the guilt alongside a mouthful of my dinner, my phone buzzes in my pocket. I take it out, only to find a message from an unknown number. I debate ignoring it before curiosity wins. Asia and Issei’s parents are raptured by their conversation, so there’s no real harm in checking my phone.

I very nearly bite my tongue once the message loads in. It’s a photograph of Katase, holding the phone high—angled just enough to catch her, Murayama, and Kaori in frame. They’re in bikinis. Murayama’s is deep red, Kaori’s is white, and Katase herself wears a strappy blue number that clings to her like it was painted on.

It’s the agreed-upon wager that I didn’t ask for.

They’re crowded together in the Kendo Club showers, post-practice maybe. Kaori looks away, hands clamped close over her flushed face. There’s a stern set to Murayama’s jaw that makes it clear she’s taken the picture solely out of pride.

Katase’s eyes are locked on the camera—her smile is wide and proud. The caption beneath reads: ‘Your prize, oh mighty victor.’

I’m already pressing my tongue to the roof of my mouth to stop myself from cursing, but before I can put my phone away, I notice the second image.

Katase—strands of telltale pink hair clinging to her collarbone give her identity away—is alone against the locker room’s tiled walls. Only the lower half of her face is in the frame. Her blue bikini top is lifted over and up, leaving nothing to my imagination.

Another message comes through: ‘Yes, this is my number. Do with that what you will.’

My pulse hits a dull, steady throb low in my gut. I force a breath through my nose and set the phone face down on the table after turning the screen off.

I really shouldn’t be thinking about her like this.

I answer to someone else’s name and live under someone else’s roof. Someone whose parents sit across from me, none the wiser that I’m not their son. This isn’t my family… but after last night, it doesn’t feel like someone else’s.

If anything, I’m guilty that I don’t feel guilty anymore.

Chapter Text

Chapter 7: Nuptial Kindling

Devils don’t look all that different from humans, so much so that it’s incredibly easy to mistake one for the other. Besides the leathery wings, they—and now I—can hide at will, there’s not much separating the two. And yet, devils, fallen angels, and angels are a world apart from humanity.

Most of the time, I don’t notice it. But there are moments, brief as they are, that hit me like the splash of cold water against my face. The first day I met her, Rias pacified my parents using whatever demonic power she possesses as an instinct. Convenience, she said, even while acknowledging the twisted ease with which she compelled them. I hadn’t thought much of it, then. But what do I know?

That devils are so much stronger than human beings that it’s ridiculous? Or that the gap in strength is so vast that my gym membership was a waste of money in the end? After one week, I was lifting the maximum weight the machines and iron plates could offer me, and before that, I was close to doing so.

If I—a supposedly low-class devil, according to Ddraig and Rias—am capable of this much with barely any training, is it at all strange that the supernatural world is as cruel as it seems to be?

Even among ordinary humans, the notion that might makes right exists and excuses horrific suffering. I knew humans who saw others as less than vermin, simply because they happened to be born wealthy, while those they toyed with were not—humans and devils, humans and angels, fallen and otherwise.

Those divisions run deeper than money. With an incredibly long lifespan and monstrous strength, it’s incredibly easy to look at human beings as lesser. Not out of any malicious intent or hatred, either. When might makes right, the weak are inferior as a fact of life. The deepest part of me wants to crush that kind of worldview underfoot but it’s not totally baseless.

Aren’t I the living proof of it? We won because we were strong. Then again, Esdeath was strong, stronger than anyone, but she was the furthest thing from right I ever ran into. It’s so damn easy to say we won because we were right. That we were stronger because we were right, and the Emperor was wrong for letting the people suffer. But the truth is more uncomfortable than that.

How much easier would it be for devils, angels, and fallen angels to look at human beings as insects and toy with them as people would ants? I’ve known Rias and everyone else long enough that whether they’re good people isn’t a question anymore. But I still can’t help but wonder...

A couple of weeks on from killing Raynare, and I’ve been dragged into Rias’s routine. Before I knew it, I was running around establishing and maintaining contracts. They were all fairly pleasant and harmless, mainly. Ultimately, I left after making the client’s life better. I suppose it’s… easy to accept things as they are when nothing in your surroundings forces you to confront the cynicism in the back of your mind.

There haven’t been any more stray devils like Viser. No more innocents gutted like fish for wielding weapons they didn’t understand. Or maybe… I’m just tired of fighting. I’d won the day for the people once—isn’t that enough?

It’s not the first time I’ve thought it. Fleeting, most of the time. But these days, the combination of things I don’t know and my lack of power are easy excuses for such thoughts to rally behind. The cling of hot, damp cloth to the small of my back is just one more discomfort next to that thought.

I look around. We’re in after the morning frenzy, and now, the only people in the gym are older folk walking on treadmills or that infinite staircase people call the stairmaster.

In hindsight, inviting Matsuda and Motohama to train with me probably wasn’t the smartest idea, but I hadn’t counted on having completely outgrown the gymnasium when I asked them. I thought I could scale up the weights as needed… but there were limitations before I even discovered what mine were.

And thanks to that, any plan to leverage Asia’s Twilight Healing to speed up my progression is mostly dead in the water until I obtain other modes of training.

“Come on, Motohama! Push!”

Matsuda stands over Motohama, who, after a month, is pushing about sixty kilos off his chest. Teeth crunch together, and his glasses begin to mist slightly, but he lifts the barbell without Matsuda’s help.

“H-How many was that?” he asks, sitting up. “Five?”

Matsuda taps his bottom lip. “Four this set and five in the last two, I think.”

“The same as last week,” Motohama says.

“Happens sometimes,” I answer, grateful for the distraction. “Do you sleep enough?”

I go to make eye contact, but he breaks it immediately.

“...Not as much as I should, no. I’ve had a few five-hour nights.”

“Try to get more rest,” I say. “You’re not going to see results if your body’s repairing with half a tank.”

Motohama nods, but it’s vague. I adjust the plates on the bar in front of me, keeping the load within a believable range for my frame.

Matsuda watches with narrowed eyes. “You sure you don’t wanna go heavier? I’m pretty sure you can take it.”

“I’m pacing myself. It’s a warm-up set.”

“Uh-huh.” He crosses his arms. “Since when do you know gym stuff?”

“What do you mean?”

Matsuda jabs a thumb at himself. “I’m the athletic one, remember? I did baseball, soccer, and judo club—before, y’know, my priorities.”

“Wasn’t that, like, ages ago?” Motohama mutters after taking a swig from his water bottle.

“Still counts. I got into this school on a sports scholarship and still do stuff from time to time,” Matsuda snaps at him, before turning to me. “But seriously, dude, you’re sounding like one of those ViewTube fitness bros. Where’d you pick that up?”

I offer a shrug. “The internet. Figured if I was gonna get stronger, I might as well do it right.”

“Huh.” He stares at me for a second longer, then grunts. “Weird.”

“You just noticed that now?” Motohama says, breathing harder as he preps for his next set. “He’s been weird since we found out he’s dating Rias Gremory! How’s that going by the way?”

Matsuda smiles, wriggling his eyebrows. “Yeah. How’s that going, my man? I bet you see heaven every night.”

I suppress a smile. “Whatever you say, guys.”

Matsuda lets out a dramatic sigh. “Man, some people just get everything, the hot foreign girlfriend included. Meanwhile, I’m still trying to deadlift without dislocating my spine.”

“You’re not even supposed to feel it in your spine,” Motohama says, lying back on the bench again. “That’s kind of the whole point.”

Matsuda scoffs. “Who died and made you the fitness expert?”

“He’s not wrong,” I say, smiling at Motohama’s vindicated fist pump.

Motohama exhales sharply as he retakes the bar. I hover near the rack just in case he needs a spot, watching his form. His elbows flare slightly.

“Alright,” I nod at Motohama’s setup. “Focus on the elbow angle this time. Keep your wrists straight. You’ll hit the right muscles and won’t risk hurting yourself.”

Motohama adjusts his grip, frowning with more concentration than usual. Matsuda watches me again, the same way he did earlier.

“You want a set next?” I ask, gesturing to the bench.

“Eh, you can go first.”

I shake my head and lie back down, taking the bar in my hands. I fake a little tremble in the arms—just enough to look like I’m putting in effort. It’s stupid, but necessary. This past month’s gym sessions are going well as far as friendship’s concerned.

I’ve not heard of any peeping incidents either, and not that I’m particularly regretful, but Motohama and Matsuda’s invitations to watch porn after school stopped around the time we started going to the gym. Now, the more optimistic part of me wants to assume it’s because they changed for the better, but I know they’re just excluding me to be petty.

“Man,” Matsuda mutters, watching me lift. “You’ve really changed.”

I rack the bar and sit up, towel over my shoulders. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. I mean… you used to be kind of hopeless, no offence. And now?”

He trails off, and Motohama takes over. “You’re like… cool now. Responsible and giving advice and stuff. It’s weird.”

“You two make it sound like that’s a bad thing.”

“No, it’s just—” Matsuda shrugs. “—people don’t just flip the switch one day and become a different person. I dunno. Feels like there’s a story I missed.”

But I just shrug. Not like he’s wrong.

“Guess I just grew up a little.”

—⧬⧭⧬—

By the time I get home for lunch, the house is quiet.

My parents—Issei’s parents—are out shopping. Usually, around now, Asia would come sprinting through the house to say hello. She’s probably still at her Japanese lesson with Akeno, or Issei’s parents took her with them, which they’ve been known to do.

Either way, I’ve got the run of the house, at least until they get back.

The water runs hot when I step into the shower. Steam curls around my arms and chest. I don’t expect anyone to be home, so until I return to my room, I don’t notice her. When I do, I freeze with one foot in the room and a towel around my shoulders.

“Issei…?”

Rias stands just inside my bedroom, wrapped in a satin nightgown that catches the overhead light like liquid. It’s thin and not at all modest. I don’t even need to squint to see through it, and her hair is damp.

Her lips part—like she wants to speak—but she looks around instead, scanning the room slowly. I realise, then, that she hasn’t been in this room since I first woke up in Issei’s body nearly two months ago.

Her face twists. “...You cleaned it?” She looks down. Her hands twist at the edge of her sleeve. “I thought—”

She doesn’t finish. I’m immediately curious. Rias is never this off-balance. Quiet, sure. That’s usually when she’s teasing me, but this is far from it. For a moment, I wonder if Rias has come here to tease me out of boredom.

But only for a moment.

“Are you alright?” I walk past her and sit down on my bed, then gesture her into the chair across from me.

She sits slowly, tension curling her fingers into her lap. Her expression flickers: shame, defiance, and a fiery flicker too fast to catch. In the end, she slumps, like the strength holding her up was borrowed, and ran out when she saw my room.

“I-I’m… I’m sorry,” she says, shoulders hunched and head bowed. Red curls fall over her face. Her fists quiver.

“For what? You haven’t got anything to apologise for.”

“...Don’t.” She takes a shaky breath and looks up. Her eyes are cracked and red and watery. “I-I convinced myself that this—” she runs a hand down her body “—was for you before me. I thought that if I… gave you…”

I’m frowning now, but relax my expression before Rias notices. What the hell is she talking about? And why’s she in a nightdress at one in the afternoon?

I use the moment to speak. “What’s going on exactly, Rias? What’s wrong?”

“I came to ask you to take my virginity.” Her smile is as watery as her eyes. Rias exhales, and her shoulders fold inward again. “I told myself it was the right thing for both of us.”

She gestures vaguely, like the meaning is slipping faster than she can explain it.

My brow twitches, but she doesn’t notice.

“After Raynare… killed you, you changed. I didn’t know you much before that, but your perversions were infamous, juvenile mostly, and kind of adorable. But after I brought you back, you weren’t the same. You didn’t talk the same. You didn’t… u-um, well, lust like I expected you to. Not at first, which was understandable, but you didn’t try to push things like I expected, besides being adorably flustered. I thought—” She swallows. “We all thought maybe Raynare had broken something we couldn’t see before she killed you.”

I keep my posture relaxed, but I’m watching her carefully now.

“Kiba thought maybe time would help. Even Koneko, who barely talks, said you seemed… sad.” She sniffles once. Her head tips back and her eyes flicker to the wall, the desk, the shelf, then back to me. “And just now… your room. Everything’s gone,” she murmurs. “All the magazines. The figures. The posters. Like you’re trying to pretend none of it ever happened, or that you aren’t the same.”

I say nothing because I can’t trust myself to speak.

Rias laughs, but there’s no humour in it. “I thought it would be romantic. Or, failing that, honest, at least. Something I chose—something real for both me and you. Not another decision made for me like I’m a pawn to be moved around.”

The unintentional pun hits a moment later. She’s known me long enough to predict the frown before I raise it and giggles—though it sounds more like a hiccup—before bowing her head.

“Taken from you?” I ask, even as the question drags the half-smile off my face. “Like a forced marriage?”

“On the order of my parents,” she says. “And my husband-to-be’s family, the Marquisal House of Phenex. It’s an arranged marriage between two pure-blooded devil houses. Originally, I had until I graduated from university to make my peace with it, but the date was suddenly brought forward to a few weeks from now.”

The idea of an arranged marriage doesn’t surprise me.

I’ve not been to the underworld, but it sounds a lot more similar to my world than the world of the living is. It’s a strange thing to come to grips with. Everyone I ever knew married for love. The closest thing to an arranged marriage I ever had was Esdeath, and even she sought me out because she believed she loved me in her own twisted way.

Treating marriage like a game of chess is a thing nobles do; it’s easy to forget she is one when she goes to school like any other teenager.

“I told myself that you and I having, doing… it would help you recover from Raynare and make things better. But standing here now, looking at you, at your room, I realised it’s not true. I—”

She doesn’t finish. Her voice cracks, so I do it for her.

“You came here to use me to get out of it.”

“...I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I didn’t mean to be so—so callous. I thought—I-I thought maybe if I framed it right in my head, it would be okay. That I was giving something in return. But I wasn’t. I was just… I’m desperate. It wasn’t… I…”

She sighs.

“I won’t make you say more than you want to, but I don’t hate you for it, alright?” I say.

She tilts her head. I don’t know whether it’s confusion or disbelief. Maybe she expected anger, but honestly, it’s hard to be angry at her when she’s like this. The first time I opened my eyes to her, she was calm and in control. Now she’s a step away from tears and is desperate enough to throw herself at me just to feel like she still has a choice.

She really does believe this was for my sake, or Issei Hyoudou’s, anyway. That sex-crazed moron would’ve said yes without question, no matter what. Whether that’s moral is another matter, on both ends, but beyond all else, it’s hard to muster any response except… pity.

“So, what now?” I ask. “Are you going to tell everyone else? What’s the plan?”

Rias blinks slowly, like she’s only now considering the question. “Well… I u-um won’t take this sitting down. We’ll—!”

A faint blue shimmer brands the carpet between us as a magical circle hums to life. Cool blue magic lights itself across the air, and through it steps a woman in a maid’s uniform, silver hair braided neatly over one shoulder. Her eyes move from me to Rias, in her nightgown, curled in on herself like she just confessed a crime.

Between the two of us, she doesn’t seem at all surprised by what she sees, but her disappointment is obvious. “…Are you trying to break the engagement agreement, Lady Rias?”

Her voice is quiet and still makes Rias flinch, though it’s only for a second. She tips her chin and flashes the maid a sharp smile. “This is the only way they’d listen, Grayfia!”

Grayfia’s expression doesn’t change, but the room feels colder. “His Lordship and Master Sirzechs will not be pleased to hear you’ve forfeited your virginity in a juvenile stunt.”

“My virginity is mine to give to the man I love,” Rias says. “And who I marry is my choice, not theirs!”

“But a Pawn?” Grayfia asks, not looking at me. “Is that truly how low you wish to sink to prove your point?”

I frown at the casual superiority in her voice, but by their rules, she’s correct. Rias notices my frown and bristles.

She breathes in through her nose. “Don’t insult him.”

Grayfia turns to her fully. “I’m asking if you’re prepared to burn down your future as the Gremory heiress just to spite your family.”

“Just for the record,” I say, voice steady. “Rias and I didn’t sleep together, and to be even more specific, she’s still a virgin.”

“Regardless, shall we discuss this letter from your parents in a more appropriate setting, Lady Rias? One where you are dressed properly and in the company of your Queen, perhaps?” Grayfia asks, holding up a stamped letter bearing the Gremory mark.

That drains the last of all the colour from Rias’s face. She smooths her nightgown with trembling hands. “Y-Yes, Grayfia. Let’s… let’s do that.” She walks slowly toward the teleportation circle. Just before she steps in, she half-turns toward me. “...I don’t know how to make up for this, but I’m sorry, Issei. Can we… can we pretend this didn’t happen?”

“What’s there to forgive? See you tomorrow, Rias.”

I smile at her, trying my hardest to keep the pity out, but I don’t quite manage it seems, based on Rias’s crestfallen expression.

She tries for a smile back but fails halfway.

—⧬⧭⧬—

Predictably, Rias summoned us all to the club room for a meeting the very next day.

Since she left my bedroom, I find myself thinking about her. Or more accurately, thinking of ways to help her. The despair on her face was clear enough an indicator that there isn’t anything that she hasn’t tried, but as that maid Grayfia pointed out, I have no power. There’s nothing I can do about it, but with nowhere else to go, the things you can’t do a thing for often set up shop inside your head.

Despite now being added to the Gremory Peerage group chat, I tend to forget I even own a phone. So, Kiba’s presence halfway through the doorframe and that friendly smile do enough to draw a peal of giggles from about six girls gathered at the back of the classroom.

But his presence reminds me to check my phone, where I see the message notification from three hours ago. I sigh and drag my feet the entire way out.

“Are you ever going to stop?” I ask him when we’re outside the classroom.

“Stop what, Hyoudou?” Kiba asks without looking at me. His voice thickens. “Last I checked, there’s nothing wrong with smiling at a friend now, is there?”

“I don’t know, but fuelling deranged art isn’t the most friendly thing.”

He laughs. “Issei Hyoudou criticising perversion. Now I’ve seen it all. Don’t you find it flattering?”

“We’re not having this conversation.”

“Aren’t we?”

I huff. “How’s Rias doing?”

“Our President? Fine, I think. You’ll see her yourself soon enough. Why’d you ask?”

“No reason,” I say. “But at least I got you to stop.”

“If you really wanted me to stop, you wouldn’t have said that.” Kiba smiles as if he’s been waiting for that answer his entire life.

I stare at him blankly, set my jaw, and walk without giving him any more ammunition than he already has. During the school day, he’s the picture-perfect student, but I guess the entourage of second-year girls that follow him and the third-year girls that dote on him are grating enough that he needs an outlet.

And that outlet is apparently being a smiling thorn in my side.

“I have to ask,” I say as we pass under the archway. “Oh, wait, let me grab a drink.” The vending machine that never seems to empty despite Koneko’s tender ministrations stands restocked. “Why do you fuel the rumours?”

“Do they annoy you that much? I thought you were putting it on a little.” He gives a small shrug. “I guess the idea of having someone to understand me is just too good to pass on. President and Akeno told me I should find the attention flattering, but it can be a bit much sometimes.”

“So, what? You wanted someone to relate to you?”

He laughs. “Well, I also wanted to give you a taste of your own medicine, too, but from what I hear, you’re building burnt bridges. If the art bothers you that much, I’ll have to take it to the Student Council.”

The same council elected to oversee the school’s human population is led by a devil and her servants. It’s a strange notion, not that I’ve met Sona Shitori—or Sitri, rather—in person. Her aides, whom I’ve seen around, were pointed out to me by Ddraig as the only other devils besides us of the Occult Research Club. One or two seemed familiar, and by the glaring, were wronged in some perverted way by Issei.

They’ve a reputation for being pretty strict, which is a welcoming idea where those creepy drawings are confirmed, but Kiba’s got one thing wrong. I’m not sure the existence of erotic drawings of him and Issei would ever stop him from becoming a so-called Harem King. Being paired with Yuuto Kiba of all people might be insulting on principle, but the female attention alone would negate that and then some.

But his stupidity is mine to bear, and I’m not eager to go and realise his aspirations. Revenge on his behalf is enough.

“Please do so,” I say. “So, when will we go complain?”

Kiba hums to himself and enters the building without looking back. It’s a benign, irritating tune that makes it clear he has no intention of stopping or answering, not because of any wrongdoing on my part, no.

I’ve realised Yuuto Kiba simply takes amusement in being infuriating—or in my frustration at him. He walks away towards the kitchen, only for a waist-tall wall with snow-white hair to stop me from going any further.

“Koneko,” I say. She nods, stretching out an open palm face-up. Her eyes fall to my right-side blazer pocket containing a small bag of salted peanuts that I feel compelled to give to her. “One of these days, I’ll start hiding the snacks. Let’s see how you get your fix, then.”

Not even three steps later, a voice from above stops me at the foot of the stairs. “Now… that’s not very nice, Issei. Growing children can be quite ravenous, you know. It wouldn’t do to hide their treats when they’re used to being spoiled.”

“Akeno,” I say. Of course, she’s wearing a bathrobe. At this point, I’ve seen her in that bathrobe more than her school uniform. “You know there’s a meeting soon, right?”

“Oh, I know. Our dear President is up here with me getting ready.” She looks back, pushing a wet lock behind her ear. “President! Issei and Kiba are here!”

“We’ll be down in five minutes!” comes Rias’s voice, distant and faded.

“And there you have it. I’d warn you that she’s not in a very good mood right now,” Akeno says with a hand on her hip. “Of course, I’d be happy to make you happy. Just stand there and—”

“Nope.” I walk away with her laughter at my back.

I expect the common room to be empty. It is not. The maid, Grayfia, sits on a couch, straight-backed. Her grey eyes flit to me before I set foot in the room, and I freeze for all of a moment.

“Issei Hyoudou.”

I step through the threshold and sit opposite her. “Miss Grayfia.”

“Just Grayfia will do.”

“Grayfia it is, then.”

Koneko takes the seat beside me, and as per usual, the awkwardness doesn’t faze her in the slightest. She pops peanut after peanut into her mouth, and her contentment fills the common room’s silence. I don’t notice when Kiba arrives, but he eventually gives away his presence against the wall behind me by clearing his throat.

My gesture for him to sit goes ignored. Grayfia hasn’t said a word since greeting me; Akeno and Rias have been gone for much longer than five minutes. Koneko rises from the sofa and retreats to the armchair in the far corner of the room when the two girls arrive.

With how tense things are, I’m glad Asia managed to join a club before Rias could rope her into this. I don’t think her nerves could handle it. Akeno slips into the open seat beside me, and Rias, the one opposite me, beside Grayfia. Still, Kiba hasn’t moved.

Rias drinks in my gaze until Grayfia clears her voice, and she looks away. “...I see we’re all here,” she says. “I have to tell… to tell you all something I should have told you ages ago.”

“Perhaps I should explain the situation, Lady Rias?” Grayfia says.

Rias raises a hand to stop her. “I’ll do it myself. The truth is—”

Roaring fire swallows her words whole. It bursts free from the magical circle behind her, thick and orange, and flattens the ceiling and walls with its heat. The light is blinding enough that Rias is blotted from my vision. I blink through inky splotches and molten petals falling to the ground that dwindle before they can do any harm.

We all rise to our feet. Rias turns, already frowning.

“It’s been a while since I last visited the human realm.” In place of the flames stands a man, tall and blond-haired and dressed in a red suit. The shirt beneath is unbuttoned at the top. “Well, as promised, my dear Rias, let’s go take a look at the venue. The sooner we get this done with, the better. Neither of us wants to drag this out, do we?”

He walks up and takes Rias by the arm.

“…Let go of me, Riser,” Rias says, yanking herself free. Her fiancée—Riser’s—smile vanishes from his face.

“Everyone,” says Grayfia. “This is Riser Phenex, a pure-blooded high-class devil and the third son of the distinguished House of Phenex.”

“Oh? Rias, haven’t you mentioned me to your servants?”

Rias scowls. “There wasn’t any need to.”

“You’re as bitter as ever, huh?” Riser says, chuckling helplessly. “Has it not occurred to you that you and I are in the same boat? Our desires come second to our duties, I’m afraid.”

“Don’t presume to instruct me on my duties, Riser,” she says.

Riser takes the chance to sit down beside her. Grayfia had abandoned the seat the instant he arrived.  I look around at everyone. Koneko stops eating her peanuts to stare at Riser Phenex with a glare a degree shy of open hostility. Behind me, Kiba furrows his brow at Rias, who hasn’t noticed his gaze at all.

Hasn’t she told them about the marriage? I thought she had, having known them longer than she’s known me, but then again, the only reason I know is because Rias planned on using me to get out of her marriage.

Akeno sighs. “I suppose I’ll go and make some tea.”

Grayfia, meanwhile, moves all the chairs around so that we servants are seated to the side, separate from the two nobles. Kiba sits to my left on her instruction, while Koneko hadn’t had to move from her corner. Akeno places the teapot down in front of Riser and Rias and joins the rest of us.

Rias sits stiffly, twitching when Riser Phenex swings his arm around her, knees pressed together, back ramrod straight. His arm drapes across Rias’s shoulders. She shrugs him off, twice, sharper each time, but he doesn’t stop. His fingers skim her sleeve, her hair, the side of her neck, and anything he can get a hand on.

I feel hot disgust building in my chest each second that he persists. But it’s not aimed at him, really. Riser Phenex is the limb through which powers greater than he and Rias made this happen.

“Cut it out.” Having finally had enough, she stands. Riser’s arm falls away. “How many times do I have to say it? I’m not marrying you!”

Riser is the furthest thing from annoyed. “You’ve said it plenty. But this isn’t a fairytale, Rias. What we want isn’t guaranteed to happen, and as far as you’re concerned, you don’t get to choose.”

“I do get to choose,” she says. “I’m the heir to the Archduchal House of Gremory. That’s my right.”

“Yes, you are,” he says, sipping his tea. “That makes this a matter of succession and survival. You know how fragile the Pillars are, so stop dangling your Archduchal status over my lowly Marquisal self. Your family’s worries for you, especially in light of the recent incident with that bunch of fallen. Their patience is running thin.”

Rias’s hands are clenched at her sides, nails digging into her palms. Her shoulders are shaking, and the sight makes Riser smile.

He snorts. “Besides, the Gremory only stand to gain through our union. The Phenex may be ranked at Marquis, but soon we’ll ascend to greater heights, as I’m sure you’re aware.”

I stare at Rias as she breathes through her nose and lifts her chin like armour.

“Then, let me be clear,” she says. “I’ll marry, but I won’t marry you. I’ll marry someone I choose. Now, more than ever, I understand what it feels like to have your freedom taken away, and I refuse to let that happen.”

She meets my eyes.

“You’re rejecting the Phenex family?”

“No, I’m rejecting you.”

“Don’t be cute. That’s one and the same.”

Heat floods the room. The temperature jumps in seconds, and then it spikes. Flame twists around his body, wreathing his shoulders like a golden crown. I smell ash and hear the soft creak of scorched floorboards.

“I’ll burn your peerage to cinders,” he murmurs. “And then I’ll drag you back to the Underworld myself if I have to.”

Kiba shifts beside me. Koneko’s already standing. Sparks flicker between Akeno’s fingers. I watch.

Rias’s power surges to meet his, red and radiant, like the first pulse of dawn. Her hair lifts. For a moment, it feels like the air might split open between them.

“That’s enough,” Grayfia says. Her voice is colder than the flames. “If either of you continues, I will act. Not as a maid, but as Sirzechs Lucifer’s Queen.”

That shuts both of them down. The flames vanish like they were never there. Rias pulls her power back with a slow, steady breath, even as she glares daggers at Riser.

“As regrettable as it is, this outcome was anticipated,” Grayfia says. “In the event of a disagreement, both families agreed to a traditional solution. An unofficial Rating Game. The terms are yours to set, and only the two houses will witness the match.”

Riser chuckles under his breath. “Then it’s settled. If I win, you’ll marry me.”

“If I win, then I won’t,” Rias says.

“Do you accept the terms?” Grayfia asks.

Rias doesn’t look at her. She keeps staring at Riser. “I do.”

“I do,” Riser says, smiling.

Grayfia nods. “Then I will notify both Houses. The match will be organised shortly.”

Riser brushes a speck of lint from his lapel. “Give them ten days to prepare. By the looks of your peerage, Rias, it looks like you’ll need it.” He glances at us for the first time, skimming across us until he reaches me. “So, you’re the Pawn Rias wasted all her pieces on. The Red Dragon Emperor, huh? You’re nothing special, even with that Longinus, but don’t disgrace her, even if you’re guaranteed to lose.”

I meet his gaze. He doesn’t scare me, but the world he represents terrifies me.

Chapter Text

Chapter 8: Gather the Ashes

I step through the front door, where the smell of a cooking stew slams into my face and draws a rumble from my stomach.

“I’m back,” I say, slipping out of my shoes.

Issei’s mother pokes her head out of the kitchen door. “You’re home awfully early.”

“No club activities today.”

After the encounter with Riser Phenex, Rias went upstairs with Akeno after telling us all to go home. I went to the gym with Motohama and Matsuda, but after that meeting, my heart wasn’t really in it. I look down and notice Asia’s shoes at the door. Shouldn’t she be with the Kendo Club? Then again, I have no idea when they run.

She pushes a brown lock back underneath her headband. “Vacuum the house for me, will you? I told your father to do it, but he's fallen asleep.”

I don’t have to look for him—I can hear his snoring from the living room.

“Sure,” I say. “Just let me shower first. I’m grimy.”

Asia’s room is the guest room on the ground floor, and since her door’s locked, she’s probably busy. So, I skip out on greeting her and go straight to my room instead. I dump my stuff, wrap a towel around my waist, and open the door.

Asia and I meet each other’s gaze.

“—Ah.” Asia’s whole body freezes up. 

I curse and close the door, looking up at the ceiling, trying to blot out her body from my mind. This is completely my fault—sure, the door was unlocked and I couldn’t hear any water running, but I still should’ve knocked.

Asia cracks the door open enough to poke her head out. “…S-Sorry. I-I’ve never seen a man’s… before. I’m really sorry,” she mumbles, unable to get out every word. “…I’ve researched Japan’s bathing customs, and I-I’m okay with it.”

“What?”

Asia swallows audibly. “Isn’t it normal to bathe together n-naked?”

“Who told you that?”

“...A-Aika, in our class.”

“Asia,” I say, keeping my voice low so it doesn’t sound like I’m scolding her. “That kind of bathing is only done between people who are… uh, romantically involved.”

It takes her a moment to process that before she squeaks and rushes past me. I barely take in the scent of some kind of floral shampoo when she slams her bedroom door shut, leaving me alone and slightly confused.

I shake my head. “I spend all this time making sure Matsuda and Motohama stop being lechers, only for her to befriend Aika Kiryuu? What the hell kind of luck do I have?”

All the hot water in the world isn’t enough to prepare me for the awkward dinner we’re about to have. Until halfway down the stairs, I hear Issei’s father laugh. A familiar, confident voice follows—it’s Rias.

I stop for a heartbeat, hand on the rail, before continuing down. She’s seated at the table, chatting easily with Issei’s parents without a hint of the earlier turmoil on her face. Asia’s beside them, head bowed slightly, hands folded in her lap. She doesn’t look up when I enter.

“Ah, there you are,” Rias says, turning her smile on me.

Issei’s parents laugh. I take the empty seat beside Rias, which puts me directly across from Asia. The stew smells incredible, but it’s hard to focus when Asia’s efforts to not look at me are more distracting than anything else.

“So,” my mother says between bites, “you mentioned a trip?”

Rias meets my eyes for the briefest moment before turning back to my mother. “Yes. A small trip for the next two weeks. The Occult Research Club and the Kendo Club are going on a little retreat. You know, some ghost hunting. It’ll be fun!”

My parents exchange a look that’s equal parts impressed and approving. Asia grips her spoon tighter, but I keep my gaze on my bowl. When the talk shifts to something else, I push back my chair.

“Excuse me a minute.” I nod to Rias. “You too.” We step into the hall. I cross my arms. “So… what trip are we talking about exactly?”

“Is everything alright between you and Asia?” she asks instead.

“She…” I swallow. “I walked in on her showering by accident. She’ll forget about it eventually.”

“And you won’t?” Rias raises an eyebrow. “I knew that infamous libido was in you somewhere.”

I try not to laugh, but don’t quite manage it. “What kind of trip were you telling my parents about?”

Rias smirks. “What else? A training trip, Issei.”

—⧬⧭⧬—

Kiba’s blade whips past my cheek, and I twist just enough to keep my grip on mine. I catch his next strike on the flat, let it slide, then pivot toward Koneko’s shadow. Her foot snaps up, not for my chest, but my wrist.

She’s trying to knock the sword out of my hand. The blade flies exactly as she wanted, and she blitzes in close, expecting an edge. I welcome her with a palm to the jaw, then hook my leg behind hers to drive her straight into the dirt.

Koneko grunts—more irritated than hurt. I grab her by the collar and pull her up to crash my forehead against her nose. She reels back, blood racing towards her lips, before returning the favour and falling out of my grip. Even through hot tears, I can see her trying to steady herself.

“Treat each other like enemies,” Rias had said. “Save for dismemberment, Asia here will heal everything.”

Kiba’s the strongest of the three of us, followed closely by Koneko.

I could probably put up a decent fight against Kiba by leveraging my sword skills, but he’d still win every single time. The gap between Koneko and me is about twice as wide as the one between Kiba and her. Honestly, the only reason I can even put up a fight is because of my combat skills. Sure, I could close the gap with the Boosted Gear, but the key to getting stronger is to push myself without it. 

Besides, this isn’t a one-on-one fight. It’s a free-for-all, which is why I’m not using the Boosted Gear.

Kiba slips in, fast as a whisper, and rakes a blade between us, spinning on his feet. I dodge, but barely—his second sword’s already coming up for a clean, underhanded strike. We scatter again, three points of a triangle, breathing hard.

It’s already been twenty minutes.

I barely dodge Kiba’s follow-up swing. He’s a blur of golden hair and darkness. Given I’m the swordless one as a swordsman, it makes sense he’s going after me instead of Koneko, whose forté is hand-to-hand combat, but it’s no less frustrating.

All the while, I weave and spring away from his attacks, moving towards my sword. I can feel Koneko watching. Kiba lunges again to close the gap. I jump to meet him, twist, and slam my heel through his shoulder. He tumbles into a crouch and then immediately changes course to Koneko.

Smart. I’m not armed—yet. I hit the ground and roll, snatching my sword off the dirt. The moment I come up, Koneko’s already driving Kiba back with a flurry of fists and knees. She’s fast, but he’s still quicker, dancing just out of her reach, while she keeps the pressure up.

I watch for a moment before joining in. The look on Kiba’s face when I catch his ankle mid-step off the ground is priceless. I yank, and he falls before he can even get his hands under him. Koneko bulldozes through the grass, so I do the one thing she won’t expect and throw my sword at her, point-first.

The momentary distraction is all I need to close the gap and slam my elbow into her temple.  I follow it with a knee to Koneko’s gut. Rias blows her whistle, and when I turn, Kiba’s sword hangs above me.

“Enough,” Rias calls. “That’s time.”

I pant through gritted teeth, sweat pouring down my back. My shirt’s plastered to me, skin buzzing from head to toe. Kiba groans and drops his sword to brush mud off his jaw.

“The fastest way, bar none, to get stronger is to push yourself to your limit,” Rias says. “Whether that’s by carrying heavy things until you can’t anymore, running until you can run no further, or sparring as if it’s a fight to the death.”

“Yeah,” Kiba mutters. “Good thing Asia’s here.”

The blond girl smiles as she uses her sacred gear to heal his probably broken ribs. Koneko stays down for a few seconds longer, then grunts to life. I offer a hand, and she takes it without a word.

Still, the glare she shoots me says she’s going to knock me flat tomorrow.

Probably twice.

We head inside after that. Akeno’s in the kitchen cooking something in two massive pots while all the bags we lugged up the mountain sit in the hallway. The three-way spar was just the icing on the hell that’s been my day. My training began from the very moment Rias saddled me with a bag filled with who-knows-what.

We walked up the mountain trail, set the bags down in the house, and immediately went out on a three-hour run. Halfway through, the sun was beating down on my head with all the subtlety of a hammer. A five-minute break was all I was given before Rias officiated the three-way duel between Kiba, Koneko, and me.

So, it’s no surprise to me that I sag to my feet the minute we enter the house. Rias and everyone else are waiting for me to move.

“One second,” I say, shifting from my hands and knees to sitting against the wall with a low grunt. “There. You’ve got room now.”

They stream past. Just as I close my eyes, a familiar cool washes over me, and I open my eyes to a gentle green light.

“Asia?”

We’ve not spoken since yesterday. She kneels beside me as the green light of her sacred gear thickens until it’s near solid.

“You… looked like you needed it,” she says.

I exhale through the warmth seeping into my muscles, but I keep my eyes on her face. Her eyes are hidden behind her hair, mostly. “Thanks.”

Her gaze flickers “I know. But… I-I wanted to.”

Yesterday’s awkwardness is still there, but at least she’s looking at me instead of the floor, or the walls, or anywhere else.

She squeezes my arm lightly before her face gradually reddens, and she runs down the hallway. “Dinnerwillbereadysoon—bye!”

Eventually, I hobble up the stairs, only to hear the hiss of water from the bathroom. So, I’m left to wait in my room instead—or rather, the room I’m sharing with Kiba. There are two other bedrooms that the girls divided up between themselves earlier.

The door clicks open minutes later, and Kiba walks in, wearing nothing but a towel around his waist.

“That was quick,” I say, slinging my towel over my shoulders.

Kiba shrugs. “I’m hungry. Are you disappointed that we didn’t get to bathe together?”

“That’s not even funny,” I say, having to fight the grin on my face as I walk towards the door.

“One second, Hyoudou. I have a question.” Kiba pulls a black shirt over his head and sits on his bed. “Mind closing the door?”

I tilt my head at him, but when he doesn’t say anything else, I swing the door closed and turn to face him. “Sure. What’s on your mind?”

He hesitates, like he’s not sure how to frame the question. Then, finally, he asks it. “After you killed Raynare, how did it feel? I mean, you got your revenge. But was there a… I don’t know what word to use—a satisfaction afterwards?”

He looks through me at something else. I’m not even sure where he’s going with this, but the least I can do is give him an honest answer.

I lean against the doorframe, feeling the heaviness of Issei’s death settle over my shoulder again. “...Yes and no.”

His eyes don’t leave mine, but there’s a shift to his blue eyes, like he’s bracing himself for something he’s not sure he wants to hear.

“When something’s taken from you, you want to get it back. That’s what vengeance is about. But you’ll never get back what was taken. Never. That’s the truth of it. Revenge as an act makes sure no one else will lose what you lost. Swinging your sword out of hatred… you’ll find no satisfaction there.”

He looks at me, and I see it then—the familiar rage. The rage I saw in the eyes of everyone who ever requested Night Raid’s services, telling us of the atrocities committed against them.

The rage I saw in Ieyasu’s eyes when he told me how Sayo died to that demon in human skin.

“I... I don’t know if I can let it go.” His voice is quietly angry. “I can’t just stand by and let it…”

“I get that. Believe me, I understand. But I want you to understand, too, that if you want any satisfaction, it’ll be by making sure that no one else suffers the same way. That’s what I meant when I said yes and no. I’m satisfied that Raynare isn’t around to kill any more innocent people—but I’ll never be able to live as a regular human being again.”

Kiba stares at me for a moment longer, then nods slowly. “I… understand.”

“What even brought this on?” I ask him. I’ve got a vague idea, but maybe telling me might take a weight off his shoulders.

“I—” His jaw clenches as he works it over and over.

“Kiba, if you want me to stand with you, I’ll do it,” I say, smiling. “And in case you start complaining, I’m just returning the favour. You helped me with my revenge, I’ll help you with yours.”

Kiba nods without a word, his eyes somewhere in the middle gaze, until he finally stands and grabs his bag from the corner of the room.

“I’ll... think about it,” he says when he returns to his bed. “And Hyoudou—no, Issei . Thank you.”

“There’s nothing to thank me for. I was just answering your questions, Yuuto.”

I return his smile, then turn toward the bathroom. Except… I frown as the faint hiss of water reaches my ears.

“...No way,” I mutter. I rap the door lightly. “Who’s in there?”

“W-Who is it?”

“Asia?”

“I-Issei?” The flow of water behind the door stops. “T-The door’s locked. I’ll be out in a moment!”

“Take your time,” I say, laughing a little. “I guess we’ve both learned our lesson.”

—⧬⧭⧬—

The most surprising thing of all is not the fact that there’s a full-fledged classroom in what Rias called her holiday home. No, I’m more surprised by the fact that Akeno is a decent teacher.

It’s the third day of Rias Gremory’s Boot Camp—her words. For me, it consisted of two things: sparring until I drop and studying magic. Somehow, it’s supposed to be instinctual to devils, but here I sit, clueless and very much irritated. Granted, the first day was all theory, but it doesn’t make any more sense to me than it did yesterday.

Blinking and breathing are instinctual. Creating fires and tempests in the palm of your hand, however, is a lot less so.

“You know, I don’t even understand how magic works,” I say, giving up for the moment. “You say it’s instinctual, but I don’t see how. What makes Asia and I so different that I’ve made more headway than her without a clue of what I’m doing besides lighting up my hands?”

“I guess the best way to explain it is like this.” Akeno lets her legs swing off the desk, tapping her chin thoughtfully. “Imagine magic is a tool—a hammer, let’s say. As a devil, you’re born with the hammer already in your hand. You’ve been holding it your whole life, so it’s only natural for you to pick it up and start using it, even if you’re not fully skilled with it yet. For Asia, though, she starts without the hammer. She has to find it, figure out how to hold it, and then start learning how to use it.”

I glance over at Asia, who’s at the far end of the room with a thick tome open in her lap. She’s mouthing words to herself and occasionally making vague gestures with her hands, lost in her world of theory. That book is the best thing Akeno’s managed to procure for her.

Besides, Asia won’t be participating in the Rating Game.

“She’s trying hard anyway,” Akeno says with a sigh. “If we had longer, I’d see if we could pull a contracted magician in to train her. Human magic takes infrastructure. Circles, incantations, formulas. True, I use that infrastructure to make my spellcasting more efficient, but at its core, human magic and devil magic take two different paths to reach the same end.”

I scowl, running a hand through my hair. “Right. Instinct and imagination.”

She shrugs. “That comes with its problems. It’s harder to teach because every devil’s magical understanding is more individual. It’s why I’m trying to get you to create your spell. Whatever it is, I’m sure there’s a more efficient version created by one of countless human mages, but you don’t have the time to learn their calculations, and I can’t teach you what I know in any useful manner until you learn enough.”

“Imagination, huh?” I lean back in my uncomfortable chair and stare up at the beams.

“Like I said, you’re in a better position than most,” Akeno replies. “You’re already doing it, even if you don’t understand how .” She crosses one leg over the other, that faint smirk creeping back onto her lips. “If you’re stuck, try mimicking something familiar. You’ve seen magic in fiction, right? Cartoons? Games? What’s that one really popular manga called... Dragon Ball? ”

I stare at her.

She laughs. “I’m not joking. If instinct is the door, then imagination is the key. You don’t need a spell formula, just a feeling. You’ve seen someone vanish in a puff of smoke, right? So… try vanishing.”

I scoff. “It’s not that simple.”

“Maybe not,” she says, reclining slightly. “But you’re a devil now. Magic listens to intent. If the image in your mind is strong enough, your body might just remember how to follow it.”

Mimic something familiar. Something I’ve experienced . I think of cold nights with nothing but breath and heartbeat to betray me. I think of a cover so absolute that even wild dogs would pass me by. I remember how it felt to squeeze myself into the corner of existence and wait .

That pulsing blanket hiding me from the world is a feeling I didn’t even realise I missed—and Akeno’s smile tells me that I’ve done it.

Asia turns a page in her book, furrows her brow, and murmurs something under her breath. I watch her from across the room, crouching low. I creep forward, step by step, until I’m just behind her shoulder. My hands clamp onto her shoulders.

Asia jumps out of her chair, her book flying out of her hands. She spins around, wide-eyed, clutching her chest. “W-What was that!”

I reappear with my hands in my pockets, laughing at her over-the-top reaction.

“Where—where did you come from?” she says between gasps, still catching her breath.

Behind me, Akeno lets out a long, impressed whistle. “Why invisibility?”

I’m quiet for a moment. “...Being caught peeping so many times… the one wish you’d have is to be invisible, you know? Even if I’ve put that part of my life behind me, I’ve got to use what I’ve got, no matter where it comes from. Otherwise, Rias will be forced to marry that guy by her parents.”

“You’re willing to go that far for her even after making it clear you don’t like the peerage system?” Akeno asks.

“Why not?” I frown—what’s she getting at, here? “You guys didn’t create the peerage system. You helped me kill Raynare. I’m fighting as her friend—even if my status is that of a servant. I won’t be a servant forever, but I’d like to think we’ll remain friends.”

“Giving your all for her… you’re a good person, Issei.” Akeno’s smile doesn’t at all reach her eyes. “Well, I can promise you one thing. If you decide to peep on me using this new spell of yours, I won’t be mad.”

I shake my head with a smile. “Those days are behind me, I’m afraid. So, am I done for today?”

“Here? Yes, I suppose. As a devil, your demonic power will grow alongside your strength, and unless you want to create another spell, I’d advise you focus solely on physical training. We’ve only a week left until the Rating Game.”

There’s a complicated look on Akeno’s face, enough so that I can see her mind is clearly elsewhere. Was it something I said?

“M-Miss Akeno!”

Asia’s call snaps Akeno out of her reverie and pushes me over the door’s threshold towards my daily run.

—⧬⧭⧬—

The night air fades off me as I wrap up my nighttime walk. Ddraig still hasn’t spoken. I don’t think he’s dead, because the Boosted Gear still works. But the silence from him… I didn’t know I’d grow used to his presence so much. Sometimes, I bring out the Boosted Gear and just watch its green gem, hoping his voice blares out of it.

But I don’t hear a thing besides the automated announcements…

The house is quiet, but I poke my head into all the rooms just to be sure and pause when I see a faint light spilling from under the door to the ground-floor study. I didn’t think anyone else was still awake.

I crack the door open. Rias sits hunched over a mess of notebooks and scribbled diagrams, her pale face lit by a desk lamp. She’s wearing pink, thin-framed glasses that look a little out of place. She doesn’t notice me at first. Her pen scratches across the paper.

When I knock softly, she startles and looks up.

“Issei?” Her voice is low, hoarse from overuse. “Are you okay?”

“You wear glasses?”

Rias laughs softly, adjusting the pair perched on the end of her nose. “I don’t need them. It’s a fashion pair… but they make me feel smart.”

“Does it work?”

She smiles, but it flickers once I close the door behind me and take the seat opposite her, then vanishes altogether.

“I’ve been thinking,” she says, setting down her pen. “About the marriage...”

I raise an eyebrow, unsure where this is going. “You already apologised for not telling everyone sooner, the day we got here. Besides, it’s not like you weren’t going to tell them eventually. Until recently, you thought the marriage was years away, not weeks.”

“I’m not talking about that.” She sighs, shaking her head.

“What, then?”

“I tried to use you to escape it,” she says quietly, without looking up. “Sure, I convinced myself you wanted it, but that’s the truth. I wasn’t thinking about how it would affect you—about how it would make you feel.” Her hands tighten on the paper. “I’m sorry. That was wrong.”

I find myself shaking my head. All these days later, and it’s still eating her up—and here I thought she was a conniving, manipulative schemer when we first met. Rias Gremory might not have a mean bone in her body, and even if she does, it’s sure causing her a lot of pain.

“Hey.”

There’s a pitifully damp look in her eyes when she meets my gaze. All this anguish wasn’t even caused by my judgment of her, but her guilty conscience.

“Didn’t I already forgive you for that? I get it, trust me. And look, at the end of the day, you weren’t going to force yourself on me, so why are you acting like that’s what you tried to do?”

“...I didn’t consider the bigger picture, and I should have.” She leans back in the chair and stares at the ceiling. “Worse, I haven’t been a good leader to you guys.”

I’m about to say something, but she keeps going.

“I didn’t address your concerns about the peerage properly. I didn’t help you understand why this system even exists. I didn’t teach you about magic, or teach you enough about how we work as devils. I didn’t do enough.” She laughs bitterly, her hand slapping the desk. “I just expected you to catch up on your own, thinking I had all the time in the world.”

“Didn’t you?” I ask. “There’s a difference between a Rating Game in a handful of years compared to a handful of weeks. I’ve figured out most of the things I needed to, and the rest I’ll take one step at a time.”

She studies me for a moment, then breathes out slowly. “I still owe you more than that.”

“You don’t owe me anything,” I say firmly. “And I want to help. So, what can I do?”

Rias looks like she wants to argue, but instead, she stands, walking toward the small kitchenette in the corner. “I should make coffee. We’re going to need it.”

She comes back with two steaming mugs, handing one to me as she sinks back into her chair. The silence stretches between us as she sips the hot drink, her fingers trembling slightly.

“So, what do we have here?” I say, breaking the quiet. “Is that Riser’s peerage?”

“Right. I’ve been compiling notes on his team. They’ve got a lot of experience because they’ve been in a few Rating Games—but that means we have intel on them.” She sips her coffee, then continues, “Riser is only slightly weaker than me, but his monstrous regeneration as per his bloodline makes up for it. His peerage isn’t so strong that we have no chance despite the numbers disparity, but they’ve fought together in multiple Rating Games.”

I listen closely, taking mental notes. These Rating Games aren’t battle to the death as I initially feared, and leverage the Evil Pieces’ abilities. I was never good enough to beat Lubbock at chess, but I wasn’t horrible either. The best strategy I can think of, based on everything Rias has told me about Rating Games, is to let loose your Pawns at the enemy so that they can promote into Queens.

The only issue is Riser has eight different pawns while Rias only has me. It’d take just one of them slipping past our defences to become a headache.

“Then there’s Riser’s Queen, Yubelluna.” Rias points to a printed-out photograph of a tall, purple-haired woman. “Akeno’s stronger than her, but not by much. She’s the second strongest member of Riser’s peerage. …If Akeno can beat her, our chances of winning will skyrocket.”

“He has the numbers advantage, which makes it likely that he’ll throw his numbers at us,” I say. “Probably his Pawns, though maybe he’ll send a Knight or Rook to ensure that the Pawns can promote. It might be good to set up traps. Do you know what the terrain will look like?”

Rias shakes her head. “I won’t find out until the day before the Rating Game. Commonly, each team will have its base situated in a tower, a castle, or some other kind of fortification. Forests, rivers, or lakes are usually located between the two bases to set up ambushes, different battles, and whatnot.”

I nod. “That just means we’ll need to disrupt their formation early. We have to eliminate their pawns—and before any of us are eliminated, too.”

Rias’s eyes flick to me, and I catch the beginnings of hope on her face. I don’t say anything about it, but it’s better than the morose look I walked in on.

But just as soon as the optimism appears, her face is overcast again.

“There’s still one more hurdle.”

I frown. “What?”

“Phoenix Tears. The source of the Phenex clan’s wealth.” Rias is nibbling on her thumb. “It’s a potent healing elixir that leverages their regeneration. It heals the vast majority of wounds, can regenerate lost limbs, and restore one’s stamina, even if they’re on the brink of death. In Rating Games, it’s a controlled substance. Each side is limited to two vials.”

Elixirs, huh? Back in my world, there were myths about magical healing potions. Things that could resurrect the dead. Just when I think I’m getting used to this strange new world, the absurdity makes itself known in the most mind-blowing ways ever.

I shake my head. “Do we have any?”

“No.”

“Is there any way we can get some?”

Rias opens her mouth, then closes it with a deep frown.

“What?” I ask.

“I…” She takes a deep breath. “No, I could .”

“But it looks like you can’t, or you don’t want to. Why? It’d be a massive help.”

Rias stares straight at me. “Because to acquire it, I’d have to either rely on my family, or my brother.”

“Not wanting to rely on your family, I can understand,” I say. “But why are you against receiving your brother’s help? He didn’t push you into this marriage, right?”

“No,” she says, smiling. “If I went to him, I’m sure he’d put an end to it, no matter what our parents and the Phenex clan say—but no.”

“Why?” I ask, trying not to sound accusing. I just don’t get her.

“All my life, everything I’ve ever achieved is attributed to my family name or my brother. Never me . I moved to the human world to escape that. The furthest my parents let me go is Kuoh, where my family either directly controls the wealth or is affiliated with people who do. But it’s better than before.”

Rias stares through me. “I want to prove myself as an individual… even if it means staking my freedom. I’m sure Sirzechs would be so discreet about the Phoenix Tears that no one would ever truly know he gave me them, but I would always know the truth.”

What the hell can I even say to that? It’s by no means a smart choice… but it’s principled.

Rias looks away, seemingly embarrassed. “...I-I know it’s stupid—”

“It is stupid.” She flushes and looks away. “No matter how you dress it, you’re refusing an advantage Riser Phenex already has out of pride. I won’t force you to ask your brother for two vials of Phoenix Tears, but if we’re doing everything we can for you, the least you could do is return the gesture, even if it means doing something you wouldn’t rather.”

Rias frowns. “I-I…”

“But in the end, it’s your choice, so own it,” I say, smiling. “Promise me one thing, though.”

“What?”

“Don’t regret it. It’s you who’s going to live with consequences, good or bad. Our lives won’t change because you marry Riser Phenex.”

The smile she gives me is fragile enough that it’s probably smart to leave things here.

“That leaves two Phoenix Tears in Riser’s possession,” I say. “One is most likely to go to Yubelluna as insurance in case Akeno beats her. What about the other?”

“...I don’t know,” Rias says, going quiet.

“Okay.” I tap the desk. “If we can’t acquire Phoenix Tears of our own, we’ll have to make sure we don’t let Riser’s peerage use theirs. It’ll be hard to check every single enemy, so eliminating them is probably the go-to strategy.”

Rias pores over her notes, flipping through pages before rattling off a brief note. Hours pass, and her eyes droop. She doesn’t seem to notice that she’s starting to nod off, and I don’t want to stop her. There’s an entire week until the Rating Game. Better she gets what rest she can find.

I rise quietly, finding a blanket from the couch behind us, and cover her gently, tucking it around her shoulders. She murmurs something I can’t make out, but I know it’s not directed at me. I take a final glance at her, seeing her without some kind of wrinkle in her brow for the first time all day.

—⧬⧭⧬—

Seven days later, we gathered at the Occult Research Club room at half-past eleven. There’s nothing left to do except wait for Grayfia to arrive, but the wait for her arrival feels longer than the entire ten-day training period itself.

Rias and Akeno are slowly drinking some tea to occupy themselves. Koneko is stuffing her face as usual. Yuuto is uselessly sharpening magical swords that don’t need to be sharpened.

…And I have to suffer Asia’s fidgeting because she doesn’t know what to do with her hands. If I point out her fidgeting, it’ll only make her even more nervous, so I turn the constant rustle of the couch cloth into background noise.

It’s ten minutes to midnight when the teleportation circle flashes brightly enough to light up the entire room. When the light fades, Grayfia stands tall before us in her usual maid uniform.

“Have you completed your preparations? The match will begin in ten minutes. When it is time, you will all be transported to the arena through your magic circle. The match will take place in a dimension created solely for this battle. We will discard the battlefield when we are finished, so don’t worry about causing any damage.”

I raise my hand, and everyone looks at me. “I have a question.”

“Yes, Issei Hyoudou?”

“I know these matches aren’t to the death, but can you guarantee that the participants won’t die? I’m saying this because I can’t afford to hold back. We’re the ones with the number disadvantage. If lethal damage is what guarantees retiring, I can’t afford to hold back just to avoid killing; it’ll be one more advantage in Riser Phenex’s favour.”

Grayfia’s initially frosty gaze at what she probably assumed to be cowardice warms a little bit. “Rest assured, as Arbiter of this match, every participant’s life is of the utmost importance to me. If anyone is determined to be unable to continue, be it due to exhaustion or a lethal blow, I will pull them out of the match.”

“U-Um… e-excuse me, Miss Grayfia?” Asia asks. “I have a sacred gear that lets me heal people. I may not be able to help Miss Rias, but I’d like to help in whatever way I can.”

“The offer is appreciated, but Marquis Phenex has provided enough Phoenix Tears that your help is unneeded, Miss Argento,” she replies with a smile so small I think I’m hallucinating. “No one will die today. Is there anything else?”

I clear my throat. “Rias, you said you had one of your Bishop positions filled, right? We could use said Bishop right about now.”

Whatever amused atmosphere had taken root in the room vanishes completely, and after a very long silence, Rias meets my gaze for a heartbeat before looking away. “They can’t. I’ll explain it to you some other time, but you’ll have to take me at my word for now.”

“What do you mean they can’t? You realise that we’re outnumbered and that if we lose , that’s it. There’ll be no do-overs. Sure, we’ve got a plan, but six against fifteen is better than five against fifteen.”

Rias frowns. “I… okay, I understand your concerns. I’ll put it this way: currently, my Bishop is a liability. They’re useless on the battlefield and are more likely to hinder us than not, understand?”

“...What are they, a baby?”

“W-What?”

“Are they a baby?” I ask. “I mean, it checks out. I’ve never seen them; they don’t go to our school, they’ve only come up in conversations once, and that’s when I first met you. It makes sense.”

“N-No! They are not a baby! Why would I use my Evil Pieces on a baby?”

I shrug. “Beats me, but at this point, anything’s possible.”

Akeno giggles enough to ease the tension somewhat before Grayfia speaks again.

“Representatives from both noble houses, as well as His Lordship Satan Lucifer, will be following this Rating Game by way of live broadcast. Do keep that in mind when you conduct yourselves henceforth.”

“No pressure at all,” I say, trying for a joke.

No one laughs, least of all Grayfia.

“Everyone, please step into the circle, so you may enter the arena,” she says. “I will then teleport Lord Riser into the arena before starting the match. Once you’ve been transported to the arena, you won’t be able to return until a victor is decided or the timer runs out in six hours.”

One blinding flash later, and Grayfia and Asia are gone. However, we don’t appear to have gone anywhere.

“Did the teleportation circle break, or—” Rias suddenly takes hold of my right hand. “What are you doing?”

“Releasing a part of the seal I placed on you.”

Crimson light blooms between our hands. Heat pools in my gut and radiates outwards in wonderfully numbing waves that bring a smile to my face.

Rias lets go of my hand. “I used eight Pawn pieces to bring you back—probably because you possessed the Boosted Gear. If I unlock all of those pieces right now, you’ll only be weaker than Akeno and me. However, until you learn to handle that power, you’re more likely to explode than anything, so I sealed that power away in stages. I’ve just released the first of them.”

“Because of the training?” I ask.

“As a result of it, yes. I wanted you not to have to boost so many times, which means increasing your base power as much as possible.”

“How strong am I now?”

Rias smiles. “Closing in on Koneko. I’d imagine that one boost would be enough for you to beat her, given your capabilities. To surpass her in power… hmm, probably two or three boosts.”

Considering the Boosted Gear only doubles my power the first time… at my max, I’d probably be a decent bit stronger than Yuuto, but weaker than Akeno.

“Right,” I say, smiling back at her. “So, what now—”

“Welcome, everyone,” Grayfia’s voice sounds through the tannoy system affixed to the club room wall. “I, Grayfia Lucifuge, servant to the House of Gremory, will act as Arbiter for today’s Rating Game between the Archducal House of Gremory and the Marquisal House of Phenex.”

“Here we go,” Rias whispers.

“In the name of His Lordship Sirzechs Lucifer, I will ensure the fairness and impartiality of today’s proceedings. Based on Lady Rias and Lord Riser’s mutual wishes, the battlefield will be a replica of the school that Lady Rias attends in the human world, Kuoh Academy.”

All it takes to confirm her words is to look outside; the sky above is pure white without a hint of sunlight or clouds.

“Both teams have been transported to an area that will serve as their respective home bases. Lady Rias, your home base will be the clubroom of the Occult Research Club in the old school building. Lord Riser, yours will be located in the student council room in the new school building. All Pawns, please proceed to the immediate vicinity of the opposing team’s home base when using Promotion. You have five minutes to make your preparations.”

We wait in silence for any further messages, but that seems to be it from Grayfia. I zone out the rest of the room for the time being and start stretching. By the time I’m done, Yuuto hands me the same sword I used to kill Raynare.

“I hope you washed that,” I say.

He snorts. “Very funny. I can replace it with a regular sword, if you’d prefer it.”

“No, no!” I say, taking it out of his grip before he can do just that. “I appreciate the sword, fallen feathers and all.”

I start to laugh until Rias gasps. When I turn around, Koneko and Akeno’s frowns are deep and troubled.

“What?” I asked. “What’s wrong?”

“Apparently, Riser isn’t the only high-class combatant in his peerage. She’s here.”

“She?”

“Ravel Phenex. Riser Phenex’s little sister,” Akeno says, as she hands me my communication earpiece. “Filling the empty Bishop position in his peerage, I imagine. Every supernatural being exudes a certain presence , unless they choose to hide it, that signifies their level of strength. A kind of sixth sense that doubles as a survival instinct.”

“He wants us— me —to sense her,” Rias says between gritted teeth.

“It’s time. The match will continue until there is a victor or until daybreak in the human world.” Grayfia’s voice crackles to life over the school’s sound system. “Let the game begin.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 9: Fight Through the Fire

No one breaches the silence. Rias’ face is a painting dyed in a kaleidoscope of emotions, but the clearest one by far is rage. And why wouldn’t it be? Ravel Phenex has never been a member of Riser Phenex’s peerage… until what’s probably his most important Rating Game to date.

“Our chances are slim, but we might be able to pull off a win.”

Rias turns so fast, I swear a stray tear just flew across the room. Again, no one says anything, so I don’t either.

I meet her gaze. “Did you ask your brother for Phoenix Tears?”

A hand enters her Kuoh blazer. She sets two minuscule vials on the low table separating the five of us.

“Grayfia managed to slip them to me last night,” Rias says, hiding her eyes behind her hair.

I’m relieved, because those elixirs just went from convenient to necessary. The annoying little voice in me wants to tell her that I told her so, but it’s both unnecessary and cruel. It probably took a lot to swallow her pride and ask for help.

“Okay. Riser definitely has two. I still think one of his vials will go to that bomb magician. What’s her name again?”

“Yubelluna,” Akeno says.

I nod. “So, the first vial will go to Rias. She’s the strongest member of our peerage, so that’s a no-brainer.”

“Wait. Are you sure, Issei?” She looks up, frowning. “That leaves four of you to fend off thirteen enemies.”

“The only way we beat Riser Phenex is if we can separate him from his sister so you can fight him one-on-one. Besides, I’m willing to bet that either one of them will have a vial of Phoenix Tears on them.”

“It’s probably Riser Phenex,” Yuuto says, frowning.

“Why?” Rias asks.

“Call it a hunch.”

“I agree,” I say. “If Ravel is eliminated, Riser loses nothing, but if he loses, we win. Even if Ravel’s the one with the Phoenix Tears, you should still have the second vial. I’m not going to say it’d be wasted on us, but...”

Yuuto, Koneko, and I share a look before we pool our resources and stare Rias into pocketing the vial.

The atmosphere’s eased up for now. Which is good, but all I’m doing is adapting all our intel to try and boost morale somehow. I’ve got no clue if I’m right. For all I know, Riser might choose not to give Yubelluna a vial of Phoenix Tears and keep two for himself.

…And then there’s Ravel Phenex, a second high-class devil. But if we lose the mental battle, then there’s no point in stepping outside of this room.

“What about the second vial?” Yuuto asks. “On paper, Akeno should get it, but Issei can both turn invisible and is almost as strong as her at his maximum. Considering he, Koneko, and I are going to do the bulk of the fighting, shouldn’t he have it?”

“What about Yubelluna?” I ask. “She probably has a vial. If Akeno doesn’t, won’t we be sending her to lose?”

He grimaces.

“...Not if you can back me up,” Akeno says after a moment.

“That’s right. Issei!” Rias jumps to her feet. “After we take control of the gymnasium. I want you to come back here, fly me to Riser under invisibility, promote to Queen, and then join Akeno. Even if you can boost to mid-class, if you’re going to be any help, you need to promote to Queen. Afterwards, the two of you will go to the track field to back up Koneko and Yuuto.”

“Very well. I can draw out my fight with Yubelluna for that long,” Akeno says. “She’s going to assume that I have Phoenix Tears and do the same.”

Yuuto raises his hand. “What about Ravel Phenex? President… sneaking into the new school building is well and good, but what’s the plan to separate her from Riser?”

“We’ll be able to lure her out once we eliminate Yubelluna,” Rias says. “My brother and our parents are watching this. He’ll want to make up for losing so many of his people in the most flashy way that he can. Once Akeno and Issei beat her, Riser will probably send her out. Any suggestions?”

No one seems to have any.

Rias nods. “Okay. We’ll move as planned. Akeno, Koneko, Yuuto, set up a defensive line in the forest using traps before proceeding to your positions.”

With the three of them gone, Rias and I sit in a strangely intense silence for a handful of minutes. I can’t even blame her for being nervous, given the circumstances.

“...Thanks,” she says.

I stop fiddling with my baldric. “For what?”

“Stopping me from spiralling.”

“As bad as our chances are, it’s not impossible, right?”

She smiles. “I suppose not. Are you sure there isn’t anything you want to bring up about the plan?”

“You’ll hear no complaints from me,” I say, smiling. “Honestly, I was mostly spit-balling ideas to stop you from spiralling.”

“D-Don’t sell yourself short, Issei. I wouldn’t have thought of this without you,” she says, making it painfully obvious she doesn’t take compliments well.

“You don’t have to say the obvious part out loud,” I say, smiling.

A snort escapes her mouth before Rias’ face suddenly hardens, and her gaze moves beyond me. “...Good. Proceed to the gymnasium. Issei will meet you there.”

I slip a finger behind the baldric Yuuto gave me at the end of the training period and sling it over my head. “It’s time, then?”

Rias nods and smiles thinly. “Good luck.”

“I’ll be back soon.”

Outside the old school building, I’m trying to find any kind of trigger for the communication magic Akeno placed on me. Not that I can come up with anything, so I go with the obvious thing.

“...Akeno?” I say.

My ears pop.

“Yes, Issei?”

I squeeze my eyes shut. You’d think it would feel like Ddraig’s voice in my head, but where his voice feels as natural as my thoughts, Akeno’s draws a strange pressure into the base of my neck. It’s not a major issue, but I don’t like it very much either.

“Mind warning Koneko and me before you blow the gym to bits?”

“Will do… though don't be afraid to tell me if you’re at your limit and can’t take it anymore, okay?”

I give a defeated laugh. “This communication magic makes your teasing so much worse. You’re inside my head.”

“...Don’t worry, Issei. I can feel your presence inside me, too,” Akeno whispers, sending a jolt down my spine.

Heat rushes through my face. “Don’t say it like that!”

Akeno leaves me a parting giggle before her presence in my head disappears. After almost two months, I’m certain that she’s worse than Leone. I didn’t even know that was possible until I met her. Shaking my head, I clear the treeline with the breeze doing wonders to cool my face down.

The gym looms ahead. I come to a stop in the air, and my wings keep me suspended to their leathery beat.

“Koneko, I’m here. Where are you?”

“Below.”

It takes a while before I notice her, but she’s at the edge of the treeline to my right.

“You’re still eating?” I say.

She blushes and tosses an empty packet to the floor.

Grayfia’s voice sounds overhead. “Three of Lord Riser’s Pawns have been retired.”

“That was fast,” I say. “Let’s handle this quickly and meet up with him.”

Koneko nods, all traces of embarrassment vanishing in the blink of an eye.

There’s no point in sneaking into the gym. Either Riser’s forces are already inside, or it’s empty, but Koneko decides to smash the door off its hinges anyway. Four people wait inside: a dark-haired girl in a blue dress that wouldn’t look out of place in the Capital’s downtown district, a teal-haired girl with a cudgel, and two green-haired twins wielding… chainsaws?

The dark-haired girl sees us first. “Ah, it’s Rias Gremory’s Rook and Pawn.”

“You’re… Xuelan?” I say, trying to remember the others’ names.

Xuelan juts her chin out. “I’m Lord Riser’s Rook.”

“I’m Mira, Lord Riser’s Pawn,” the blue-haired girl says.

One of the twins waves her chainsaw above her head. “I’m Nel. Hi, fellow Pawn!”

“I’m Ile, also a Pawn!” her sister says just as enthusiastically.

“Well, I’m Issei Hyoudou,” I say, smiling at the twins’ infectious cheer. “This is Koneko. She doesn’t talk much.”

“BOOST!”

I looked down at my sacred gear. That’s the third boost. The air trembles around my maroon blade as I ready it. “Leave them to me, Koneko. Save your strength.”

She nods and takes a seat on the stage.

“Hey!” Xuelan stomps her foot. “Are you looking down on us?”

“The opposite, actually,” I say.

“EXPLOSION!”

Unbridled power floods through me. Instead of the vague crimson flash I’m used to, the boosted power takes a life of its own. It howls to life around me, solid red threaded with fiery green. I swing my sword and a wave of fire as wide as the gym follows its path and floods outward.

Mira raises her cudgel and sets it alight. The twins do the same with their chainsaws. Xuelan cups her hands at her side and hurls a fireball. All four combine their attacks to meet mine. The gym sizzles under the blaze’s presence. Both fires snarl against each other until a shockwave ripples through the room and the firestorm sputters out.

“Nice teamwork,” I say.

“Don’t patronise us!” Xuelan’s face flushes hot, whether from the flames or embarrassment, I can’t tell.

“I was being honest!”

To their eyes, I vanish. Mira’s cudgel separates into two. Flames race up the end, and the weapon immolates in her hands before they respond. The twins’ chainsaws stutter to life, but I kick both of them away. I meet Xuelan’s fire with fire of my own. Mira joins the fray, but she doesn’t have the power to make a difference, and her technique leaves her more open than Xuelan.

Every strike they make is dodged and every swing turned aside. Their anger builds, but so does their exhaustion. I force them to consume more of their stamina until each of them is standing in a puddle of their own sweat.

“Issei.” Akeno’s presence settles inside my head. “I’m ready.”

I draw a slow breath and plant my feet. They do the same. Fire washes and scorches the gym’s walls once more, and our attacks clash.

Their fires disappear in mine. Xuelan jumps high to avoid it, but her friends aren’t as fast.

“Mira! Nel! Ile!”

Their burning silhouettes glow in a strange ethereal light before a pillar of the same colour descends on them. When the fire clears, they’re gone as if they never existed.

“Three of Lord Riser’s Pawns have been retired.”

“Issei Hyoudou!” Xuelan glares at me as she falls. “You—!”

Koneko slams into her. Xuelan bounces off the far wall. The same ethereal light blooms around her, and she disappears.

“Lord Riser’s Rook has been retired.”

“Not that I’m complaining,” I say to Koneko. “But why?”

“I was bored,” she says, shrugging.

I laugh. We step outside together, leaving the gym scorched and damaged behind us.

“Akeno?” I say.

“I suppose there’s no need to waste demonic power destroying the gymnasium if you’ve eliminated them. The announcements should be enough to draw Yubelluna here.”

I turn to see Koneko walking away. “Hey, wait for me.”

She flinches and stops.

“What are you—”

Koneko launches herself backwards and straight into me. I stumble, but manage to steady us before an explosion blows us away completely. I sit up and nudge her. She rolls off me as Riser Phenex’s Queen aims her staff at us. Thunder rumbles overhead. Akeno descends until she’s hovering between her and us.

“What a distasteful attack on the unsuspecting, Bomb Queen Yubelluna.” Akeno turns to us. “Don’t worry. She won’t be bothering you anymore, Issei, Koneko.”

Yubelluna laughs. “I’ve always wanted to fight the so-called Vestal of Thunder.”

I help Koneko up. “Are you hurt?”

She shakes her head.

“Good. Let’s get out of here,” I say. Once we’re far enough away from the gymnasium, I stop. “Yuuto?”

“Yes?”

“There’s been a change in plans.”

“So I’ve heard. I’ll keep you and the President updated.”

I give Koneko a nod. “See you.”

“Issei?” she says. “Good luck.”

“Thanks.”

—⧬⧭⧬—

Yuuto’s voice punctures the club room’s tense silence. “...There’s a bit of complication. Ravel Phenex is on the field.”

“Rias.”

She looks up.

“Ravel’s out early.” I pull my baldric over my head and give Rias a look. “Ready?”

“Of course,” she says, but her smile is a little too tight.

I don’t blame her. Depending on how you look at it, this is either the worst or the best thing that could happen. With Ravel out early, she can fight Riser uninterrupted… but it also means Ravel is now with Kiba and Koneko, along with the remaining five members of Riser’s peerage besides Yubelluna.

“But Akeno—”

“Rias, give me your hand,” I say. “We’ll fly over the track field on the way there. Then we’ll see what we can do.”

I close my eyes and take a breath, focusing on the physical tether between us.

Her clammy hand shakes, faintly, but I push past the sensation. I remember the cold press of Incursio’s invisibility against my skin and the sick urge to make a sound to prove I’m still there. My power responds in response to me, and the very same chill descends. I wrap myself in it from crown to toe. It races down my arm. Rias gasps.

The magic snaps into place with that familiar hollow tug in my gut.

“I can still see you. Are you sure it worked?” Rias whispers.

“No one will be able to see us, but if you let go of me, you’ll be visible.”

Rias smiles. “Are you sure you’re not using it as an excuse to hold my hand?”

“Maybe I am,” I say with an amused huff. “Now, are you ready?”

She’s barely nodded when I brace myself and jump, but because I left the ground earlier, I pull her up. We cover the school ground in minutes, and from up here, I can see the battle raging across the track field. Yuuto and Koneko are outnumbered two-to-five. 

Ravel Phenex is there too, but she’s not fighting.

“Rias, are you hiding your presence?”

“Of course I am,” she says. “I’ve been hiding it since we came up with this new plan. Do you think we’d have made it out of the forest without Ravel attacking us otherwise?”

We set down on the new school building’s rooftop.

“Promotion: Queen.”

The power drapes over my shoulders like a cloak. Most of the track field is visible from the building’s rooftop. Koneko and Yuuto are mostly fighting one-on-one battles despite being outnumbered.

“Akeno?” I say.

“...Yes?”

“Kiba and Koneko are outnumbered. Ravel Phenex is there, too. Can you wait until I help them out, or do you need my help now?”

Her voice comes after the roar of thunder in the distance. “I… I can wait. Go. We’re still whittling one another down.”

“Okay. Good luck.”

Rias meets my gaze. I tuck in my wings and take the plunge.

“BOOST!”

Riser’s lost seven of his people, and the way things are going, we should be able to eliminate the rest except Ravel. I turn my head in the direction of Akeno’s fight against Yubelluna. Even from this high up, there’s not much I can see. The little that’s visible on that side of the school grounds is scarred and scorched, with a fresh explosive chorus renewing the perpetual mushroom cloud obscuring it.

Below, Koneko is fighting another pair of twins, except these two have cat ears instead of chainsaws.

What is it with Riser Phenex and twins?

As I close in, the red-haired twin creates the perfect gap by kicking Koneko away.

“BOOST!”

The Boosted Gear’s call draws everyone’s eyes up. I’m not usually a fan of my sacred gear’s loud call, but for once, it’s actually worked in my favour. The red-haired girl skids to a stop and raises her guard against me far too late.

I swing, and she’s consumed by my sword’s flames completely.

“Ni!” 

“Lord Phenex’s Pawn has been retired.”

“Are you okay?” I ask Koneko.

She nods. “They had better teamwork… than expected.”

I give her a once-over. Her arms, legs are sporting some bruises that won’t look pretty soon.

“Yuuto!” I yell over the battlefield’s noise. “Need any help?”

It’s a long moment before he replies: “No! I’m fine. This is a knightly duel, Issei. Don’t interrupt it!”

“After seeing that sword fanatic of a Knight, I couldn’t help but think my sister-in-law-to-be has commendable taste in men,” Ravel Phenex says from the treeline after laughing. She looks me up and down. “But it seems I was mistaken.”

Riser Phenex’s second Bishop, Rook, and Knight stand around her. They don’t seem eager to fight, so I close the gap between me and the blue-haired girl. Two boosts will have to do. I can’t waste time gauging my base combat power against her.

“EXPLOSION!”

“Li, be careful!” Ravel Phenex calls. “The Boosted Gear is formidable, but its abilities are well-known. Focus on evading him until his temporary power fades. Isabella, help her!”

The tall auburn-haired Rook tries to intervene, but Koneko intercepts her.

“...My name is Isabella, Lord Phenex’s Rook. And you, warrior?”

“Koneko. Lady Rias’ Rook.”

Isabella smiles. “Well met, Koneko. Let’s give it our all.”

Koneko nods and opens with an axe kick. Isabella grabs her heel and hurls her away, leaving me alone with my opponent. Li takes a breath to calm down, straightening from her hunched stance, instead forcing me to chase by springing back.

It’s not a bad strategy, but I’m not limited by range. I slash outwards and send a burning crescent flying after her. Seconds later, I outpace the attack and then her, pivoting and letting loose another flame attack.

With only one avenue of escape, Li jumps. I slash my sword one last time and drown her in flames.

“Lord Phenex’s Pawn has been retired.”

“Your thuggish appearance belies your intelligence.” Ravel sighs. “That’s what I get for judging a book by its cover, I suppose. Siris?”

The dark-haired girl wielding a greatsword kneels before Ravel.

“If you’d deal with this Pawn, I’d be very grateful.”

“Of course, Lady Ravel,” says Siris. “I will—”

An explosion from the new school building’s rooftop steals the last of her sentence and draws Ravel Phenex’s attention.

“Rias Gremory made a move, has she? Oh, well. My brother will win. Mihae? Let’s see how you handle a Bishop and Knight, Red Dragon Emperor.”

The short girl in the flowing purple robe steps forward. Ravel smiles.

“BOOST!”

Damn. Fighting a magician and swordsman at the same time won’t be easy when I’m forced to remain passive while stacking boosts… but it isn’t impossible.

Siris darts to the side, freeing Mihae to hurl rows upon rows of icicles at me that I melt with a slash of my sword. The Knight’s sword cleaves through the air. Goosebumps race down my nape. I pivot and meet the blade with mine. Flames dance along its length, edging towards her greatsword. Siris shrugs away my sword hard enough to send a shock up my arm.

We circle once. She feints a high strike, but I step around it and bring my sword down to counter. She swings her massive sword back up to meet mine, and we clash, but this time, I push back. I see the strain in her eyes and push into her sword even more. The ground beneath our feet cracks. Flames roar and lick at her sword, only to wink out of existence.

The air grows cold around me, so I stop pushing. Siris flies past, totally off balance. I pivot and kick her away as she tries to steady herself in time to fend off Mihae’s ice. I melt another wave of frost-tipped daggers before they reach the tip of my sword, but more follow, hurtling in from every angle.

Siris stands hunched over. Mihae’s hands glow. I burn the last of the icicles and dodge what I can’t, then charge. The Knight raises her sword, but I pivot and go for the Bishop instead. She manages to put a curved layer of ice that smothers the bite of my sword and backs off with a frustrated hiss.

I melt it and swing around, washing Siris in flames while Mihae runs. Her greatsword blocks part of it, but the heat sears through her guard anyway. The cold chill thickens, a gust of wind carrying the sting of ice as the Bishop begins to gather her power behind me.

“You’ll regret that,” Mihae mutters, her eyes flashing with unspoken threat.

I don’t have the time to set up a feint, so I charge her outright. Siris beats me there, drowning me in her greatsword’s shadow. I drop to a knee and force her into overcommitting her swing as I dodge.

My sword whips out and scorches her unguarded back, and I hurl myself forward after sending a burst of fire straight for Mihae. She dodges it, but is nowhere near fast enough to finish gathering her power before I reach her.

Siris’ greatsword smashes into my ribs from behind me. I roll to a stop and avoid an icicle aimed at my head by mere inches. Mihae gathers her power again, bathed in a soft white glow. Siris charges to protect her, burned but mostly unharmed.

I raise my sword again before the ground groans and splits apart to our left. Our fight screeches to a halt.

“Lord Phenex’s Knight has been retired.”

Impaled atop a small mountain of swords, Riser Phenex’s second Knight vanishes in a pillar of light.

“What?” Ravel’s eyes go wide. “K-Karlamine?”

“You shouldn’t look away during a battle,” Yuuto says from behind Mihae. He stabs her through the back.

Siris turns on her heel and charges him. “Mihae!”

“Lord Phenex’s Bishop has been retired.”

I bury her under a wave of fire before she can so much as raise her sword to help. Through the flames, I see both their silhouettes glow before Grayfia’s voice descends on the battlefield again.

“Lord Phenex’s Knight has been retired.”

Ravel Phenex tries to hide her frown behind the small fan in her left hand. “Well, at least I still have Isabell—”

“Lord Phenex’s Rook has been retired.”

Yuuto stops beside me. “You were saying, my lady.”

She closes the fan with a snap, revealing the set to her jaw. Koneko joins us, looking no worse than I last saw her, except for a fresh bruise on her face. She blinks, looking at Ravel. “Are you going to fight?”

“Who me?” The blonde girl blinks back. “Oh, I won’t be fighting. I’m sure you’re awfully confident, having almost beaten my brother’s peerage. After all, you’re quite the martial artist, that one possesses the Boosted Gear, the handsome knight possesses Sword Birth, your Queen is the Vestal of Thunder, and your King is Ruin Queen Rias Gremory.”

Yuuto smiles. “Thank you for the compliment.”

“Cover me,” I whisper to Yuuto. “I’m going.”

He doesn’t say anything, but I’m sure he heard me. I gather my focus. All I need is the right moment to turn invisible, and then I can help Akeno before Yubelluna eliminates her. If she’s really in trouble, I’m sure she’d say something to me, or at least I hope she would.

Ravel continues talking, puffing out her chest. “But we are phoenixes, immortals. Life in its purest form flows through our veins, and because of that, Rias Gremory will not defeat my brother. And you three will not beat me, even if your Queen somehow beats Yubelluna—”

“Lord Phenex’s Queen has been retired.”

I laugh. I can’t not laugh. Akeno’s okay. The tension eases out of my body. But because I laughed, she’s now staring at me like I kicked her puppy.

“...Y-You!” She sighs explosively, then takes a calming breath. “Oh, for crying out loud… I told Riser there was a chance something like this could happen, and now look! We’ve disgraced ourselves in front of Lord Sirzechs and our parents by losing a fight where we had the numbers advantage!”

Roaring flames screech to life around her. The heat and power drown us, wiping the faint smile from my face. I knew she was strong… but this is absolutely insane. Koneko, Yuuto, and I spring back to put some distance between us, but Ravel Phenex is within arm’s reach before we can even blink.

“First, I’ll deal with you,” she says, drowning Koneko in fires so blinding I don’t even see her leave the dimension until Grayfia’s voice descends.

“Lady Gremory’s Rook has been retired.”

“Koneko!” Yuuto yells, pulling a serrated double-edged sword out of the ground. He charges, and I follow him, darting around Ravel Phenex.

The flames surrounding her contort and lash out at me. I block what I can and dodge otherwise while Yuuto closes in on Ravel Phenex. His slash passes through thin air. She reappears somewhat behind him. Yuuto turns and charges at her without a moment’s hesitation. Ravel Phenex hurls a fireball as wide as he is tall. He slams a foot down to readjust his trajectory, but her attack is faster than he is.

Thunder rumbles overhead, and pure white lightning detonates the attack early, leaving it to sputter on the wind by the time it reaches Yuuto. Akeno, as dishevelled and injured as she seems to be, floats down and joins Yuuto and me. 

Another explosion destroys the entire upper half of the new school building. Ravel Phenex twitches in its direction, so Akeno hurls another white bolt at her… to no effect whatsoever.

“I see how you beat Yubelluna. Even with Phoenix Tears, the two of you should’ve fought to a standstill. Holy Lightning, huh?” Ravel says. Blazing orange light forces me to close my eyes, and when I open them, she’s practically a miniature sun.

“Holy Lightning?” I ask Akeno. “What does she mean? Aren’t you a devil?”

She ignores me. 

I shrug off my blazer. I’m already drenched to the bone from standing a handful of metres away. There’s no way for us to beat her. I can just tell in the same way Akeno’s lightning fills me with an instinctual dread.

“Issei!” Kiba pulls a seemingly unassuming sword at me and throws it. “Run! We’ll hold her off.”

I frown. “And leave you guys here?”

“You need to get that sword to President, understand? Just trust me and go. We can’t win otherwise. We’ll hold her off!”

I give it a once-over. The sword doesn’t look any different from a normal sword, except for the pulsing crimson vein running down its length. Is it some kind of magic sword, like my fire sword?

Thunder clouds rumble overhead and bury Ravel Phenex in a shower of pure-white lightning.

Akeno hurls bolt after bolt from beside me without turning to me. “Go! We’ll be fine.”

My eyes linger on her. There’s something incredibly rigid about her posture, like the lightning she’s wielding hurts in some way.

“BOOST!”

That makes it the fifth boost… should I power myself up to get there faster, or should I let it stack first? I grit my teeth and take off, flying as fast as I can go. I need to save as much as I can. All I can do now is hope Akeno and Yuuto last long enough for me to get to Rias. Thunder roars at my back, and distant explosions rumble their way to me from the horizon.

Riser and Rias’ power thickens in the air the further out I fly. To me, there’s no difference between them and Ravel Phenex. That says enough about my current strength than anything else. My wings beat at my shoulders way too slowly. I can’t hear Akeno and Yuuto fighting Ravel Phenex anymore, but I don’t look back.

By my eighth boost, I hear those dreaded words.

“Lady Gremory’s Knight has been retired.”

I strain harder. Just a minute—no, forty seconds. If Akeno can last that long, then—

“Lady Gremory’s Queen has been retired.”

“...Shit,” I mutter, clenching the sword in my hand, bracing for scorching agony that never comes.

Cracking my eyes open, I barely look back when some undefined blur turns me around and brings a hurricane with it. I tumble through the air, righting myself and fly after it as best as I can.

Her power joins Rias and Riser’s.

“BOOST!” I don’t hesitate. “EXPLOSION!”

I hurtle forward… but I’m still too damn slow. The Boosted Gear always pulls on my current combat power, and after so many encounters, I might not be exhausted, but I’m not at my peak either. I’ll get to Rias in time, but what can I do? I’m not fast enough, not strong enough.

Green light flashes on my left hand.

“DRAGON BOOSTER: SECOND LIBERATION!”

The red gauntlet claws up to my elbow, and a second gem pulses against my forearm, behind the first affixed to the back of my hand. Clarity cools my temper for a long moment as I land. 

The ground blurs beneath me, and I barely register the distance closing.

“TRANSFER!”

Yuuto’s sword glows, embraced by green and crimson flames. I pour every bit of my boosted power into the sword and hurl it with everything I’ve got. “Rias! Catch!”

The sword arcs through the air. Her fingers close around the hilt. Then, without missing a beat, she sets it alight. Crimson-flecked darkness races up the sword, consuming the green and red flames of the Boosted Gear. She closes the gap between Riser and herself.

Bereft of the Boosted Gear’s electrifying power, my tunnel vision widens. Ravel Phenex stands in front of a piece of rubble from the now destroyed school, watching Rias and Riser fight with an expression a few degrees shy of boredom.

She looks at me. “...What a horrifying ability you have. The ability to transfer your power to someone else. Had you been able to use it when your Queen fought me, perhaps things would have been different. As things stand now, I’m not going to let you use it on Rias Gremory. So, come. I want you to understand that you never had a chance to begin with.”

Fighting her isn’t even a question. As much as it gnaws at me to admit it, I’ve got absolutely no chance against her. I’m sure she knows that too, which is why she’s looking at my Boosted Gear in faint amusement.

“BOOST!”

“Why aren’t you fighting?” I ask, coming to a stop next to her.

She squints past me at Rias and Riser’s ongoing battle. “That Sword Birth boy… does that sword slow down regeneration or something? In any case, Rias has less demonic power left than my brother, so she’s bound to lose, I’m afraid. You asked me why I’m not fighting alongside Riser? Well, mostly because he doesn’t want me to, but more than that, I don’t see the need to. Rias is powerful, sure, but when Riser is just as strong, a Phenex is the worst possible matchup for her. See? Look.”

If she wants to attack me, I’m not sure there’s anything I can do about it, so I risk taking my eyes off her.

Rias is still on the offensive. Riser’s red suit is littered with cuts and scratches that seem slow to heal. They’re healing, alright, but not as fast as I’d expect. That seems to unnerve him more than anything, and now he’s actually avoiding Rias’ attacks instead of allowing her to hit him. Backpedalling so much opens him up to more of Rias’s attacks with each cut of Yuuto’s sword.

I look down at the Boosted Gear, and as expected, the gem flashes to mark the second boost.

“BOOST!”

Before the glow can even fade, something smashes into my torso. I look down. Ravel’s elbow digs into my stomach. The air is pressed out of my lungs along with the Boosted Gear’s power.

I gasp, folding around the point of impact.

“Apologies, but that transference of yours is too dangerous at this point. Rias doesn’t have to beat me, just Riser,” she says with a faint look of sympathy. “So long as I beat that energy out of you, you won’t be a threat. Oh, I could eliminate you, but I told you… I want you to understand your situation, and in turn understand what it is that makes you and your entire peerage so stubborn. Your power on that blade is guaranteed to fade. Rias will return to exhausting her demonic power, and then my brother will win.”

“W-Why risk the chance that she wins by messing about with me?” I ask, struggling to breathe. “You could just eliminate me and guarantee that she loses here and now.”

This entire situation infuriates me. Helplessness infuriates me… but this isn’t a situation that’ll lead to death. I can bear the helplessness, especially since Ravel still thinks Rias gave Akeno Phoenix Tears.

Ravel’s lips pull into a perfectly thin line. “This isn’t my favourite tactic, but it was never mine to begin with. I suggested that the two of us storm your base and eliminate Rias from the start, but Riser made it clear that this operation was his to command, so on his head it be.”

“So?” I say, hands tight around my sword. “You’re here as insurance? Sent here by your parents to make sure Rias can’t win in case we did better than expected?”

Ravel’s eyes go wide. She doesn’t blink for a long moment before breaking out into laughter. “Is that what you think? No, no! I’m here because Riser asked me to join his peerage. Her Power of Destruction is fearsome, but given there’s no overwhelming gap in power between them, it’s simply not a threat to him, even if I wasn’t here.”

The Boosted Gear’s gem flashes. “BOOST!”

I brace for a hit that doesn’t come, so I ask: “...If he’s so powerful, and your parents didn’t order you here to guarantee Rias’ loss, why are you here?”

“That i-idiot decided to recruit every type of woman he could. Claims it’s a marketing plot… but I just think he’s a closeted pervert,” she says, her face going scarlet.

I look at her with new eyes.. “And he… recruited his little sister…?”

“N-Not like that!” Ravel Phenex huffs. “That said, I’ve always wanted to try my hand at Rating Games… it’s just a shame that my brother wanted to lead this one himself. But enough about me. Why are you still fighting?”

“BOOST!”

This time, the hit does come. Ravel slams her elbow into me. It barely looks like she tried, but I go flying like Leone yanked me by the scruff of my neck. The tree I smash through eats into enough of my momentum that the next one stops me.

I land on my hands and knees, coughing.

“I really only want to know one thing.” Ravel walks up to me, bathed in the red and orange light of Rias and Riser’s battle. “As I’m sure you’re aware, you and yours never had a chance in hell of victory. I’m sure Rias must have realised that from the moment she sensed me, so why fight?”

I lean on my sword to stand. “Fights are less cut and dry than you think. You can’t account for every possibility.”

“Yeah, right.” Ravel rolls her eyes. “With enough intel, you can account for anything.”

“BOOST!”

“Are you going to make me beat that power out of you?” Ravel asks, pointing at the Boosted Gear. “I won’t let you transfer power to Rias, and you can’t fight me. You’ve no chance. Your Queen and Knight had no chance. You have no chance. So why do you keep going? I just don’t get it.”

“Why are you trying to prove me wrong? You could eliminate me here and save yourself the trouble of sitting through my stubbornness.” I raise my sword. “Point is, Rias doesn’t want to marry your brother, but she’s being forced to, so we fought for her. It’s as simple as that.”

“BOOST!”

Ravel’s power sparks the air and sets fire to the trees behind her and around us. I raise my sword and charge. Her eyes follow me no matter how many times I pivot or change direction. I know I haven’t got a chance of beating her, but if she won’t eliminate me, then I can only give her what she wants.

The Boosted Gear runs on mostly physical energy, but also demonic power. So long as I don’t run out of the former, the latter will be replenished by the Phoenix Tears, including any physical damage dealt to me.

I dart left, then right, drawing a flaming wave out towards her while I use the wreckage of the field as cover. I know that fire is about as natural as air to her, but fighting her is an equally stupid thing to do.

The gem flashes again.

“BOOST!”

I skid to a halt behind the charred husk of a tree and gulp for air, chest heaving. Ravel destroys the tree with a fireball, forcing me out. I grip my sword with both hands and surge forward, swinging down only to buy myself maybe a second more. Her hand brushes the sword aside with casual disdain.

She drives a knee into my ribs. The impact rips the wind out of me, and I roll across the dirt.

“I don’t understand,” she mutters, strolling after me. “Giving up is the logical choice. Why are you all putting yourself through this? Does Rias not know what she’s putting you all through for a battle she can’t win?”

I spit red into the grass, plant the sword into the dirt, and drag myself to my feet.

Her eyes harden. The next exchange is the same.

“BOOST!”

I charge. She crushes the power out of me with an elbow to the jaw, then ten seconds pass.

“BOOST!”

I feint right and try to slash for her back, but she swats me away with a backhand. I crash through three different trees.

Each boost flares, and maybe I get away with one every so often, but before I take on the third, Ravel always empties the power out of me. My lungs burn hotter than my sword, but I keep standing, because if she won’t end it, then I’ll keep buying seconds until she thinks I’m exhausted.

If she’s so hell-bent on having me watch her beat Rias, then I’ll wait until the right moment to drink the vial of Phoenix Tears. In the end, she drives me into the ground so hard the breath won’t come back. I convulse around the gauntlet for a moment and can’t even close my fingers around my sword.

“You see? This is the shape of futility.” Ravel kneels beside me. “I wasn’t even trying. You’ve spent yourself to exhaustion, and it changed nothing. If anything, you only made my point clearer. Rias will lose, and all you’ll be able to do is watch.”

I cough, drag air into my lungs, and give her a bitter smile. “Then I’ll watch.”

She tilts her head at me before rising. “You’ve got no more moves to play.” 

With a flick of her wrist, she turns away and takes to the air, flaming wings spreading wide as she arcs back toward the duel. Left alone in the wreckage, I numbly fumble inside my pocket. The vial of Phoenix Tears is cool against my palm.

I down it in one desperate swallow. Heat pulses from the centre of my being and out. The broken ribs pull themselves straight. The burn in my lungs cools, and the countless bruises and fractures heal.

The chill of my invisibility takes me, and I slip into silence. One boost after another lights my body in ghostly green. 

“EXPLOSION!”

Power roars to life around me. Twelve boosts’ worth of energy. Physically, I feel great thanks to the Phoenix Tears. I’m not sure where my demonic power reserves are at, but if things go well, I’ll only need this much power.

I summon my wings and clear the treeline with ease.

I look down at the ongoing battle. Hiding myself from their senses is a gamble—especially with all the boosted power pumping through my veins—but failure isn’t an option when this is the only hope we have of winning.

My eyes lock on Rias down below. Rias was doing well on her own. Yuuto’s sword and my boosts had turned the fight in her favour rather than Riser’s. No longer able to dictate the fight through his regeneration, we’d actually forced him to fight… but my boosts are temporary and Kiba’s sword isn’t indestructible.

There’s no sword in her hand anymore, and she’s resorting to hurling dark crimson blasts at Riser, one after the other.

Just as Ravel said, Riser’s not defending himself at all. Merely allowing her attacks to land. Some ragdoll him, others stop him from moving forward, but no matter what, orange flames lick at his wounds and heal whatever damage Rias does. Compared to her, he looks none the worse for where despite not having attacked once.

“TRANSFER!”

The Boosted Gear’s call immediately draws Ravel’s attention, but it’s already too late. Even as she shoots up with her head on a swivel, the power floods out of me. So much of it, in fact, that my invisibility unravels, leaving me an open target.

I spin out of the way and ready the Boosted Gear. The gem flashes bright.

“BURST!”

I barely process the word before I fall out of the sky. My body is as heavy as a boulder. I can’t move a muscle to turn myself or even get out of the way of Ravel’s ascent. 

Worst of all, she catches and sets me down on the ground instead of bathing me in fire like I’d expected. My limbs fight my every effort to stand and heave, struggling to the sword that’s barely a half a finger’s length away from me.

I stare out at the ruined section of forest serving as Rias’ battlefield. The Boosted Gear’s blazing aura covers her from head to toe, and it’s all I see before Ravel’s frilly pink dress blots out my entire field of vision, and I force myself to look up.

“...I didn’t know you could do that,” she says, looking back at her brother with a deep frown on her face. “I’ll admit this: maybe if I weren’t here, you might have beaten my brother today on account of his stupid strategy of wasting our pieces. But this was futile from the start. Watch and understand that fact.”

Her words echo as if spoken down a long corridor. Futile. I want to deny it. I want to say that if I push hard enough, something will change, but my body won’t listen. The Boosted Gear feels like lead strapped to my arm, and my sword lies out of reach.

I can’t even close my fist around its hilt, but even if I could, where would using a flaming sword get me against these two? Helpless is all I am, at the moment… and it’s not a new feeling.

The first time it sank its claws into me, I held Ieyasu in my arms as he died while Sayo’s rotting corpse hung suspended from the ceiling. I killed the monster responsible for their deaths, but the worst part was that there was nothing I could’ve done to save them. And now, again, I’m watching Rias fight without being able to lift a finger.

Rias is struggling, and with every drop of power I gave her on top of her own, only to bleed it away against an enemy who can’t die. She doesn’t have much left in her. Ravel moves closer, heat rolling off her in shimmering waves. Her words play themselves back to me, over and over, stoking the cold fury in my chest until it warms and burns.

“But this was futile from the start. Watch and understand that fact.”

I claw at the dirt. Just one chance is all I need, but my arms won’t rise. My chest won’t fill. My body is dead weight, but my rage is anything but.

Rias lets out a raw cry. Crimson darkness surging from her hand. Riser laughs. His flames flood forward to meet hers. Ravel raises her hands beside him, and their power twists together, Rias’s red and their gold folding into a blinding sphere of fire and bloody darkness.

The heat alone sears my skin. My eyes water, and still I can’t look away. I don’t want to. A weight I haven’t felt since I was reborn settles in my chest, like a hot coal sits lodged there, turning everything around it into molten sludge. The heat, different to the burn of the flames, courses through me. My body starts to glow pale-white and bathes my vision in a light. My body burns hotter, still. Or maybe I’m just delirious.

In that split second before my consciousness fades, Rias turns to smile at me before the hazy light shrouding my body robs me of my vision.

Then, darkness does the same.

Chapter Text

Interlude 2: Lightning the Pyre

Issei’s voice crackles to life in her ears over the roar of the incoming fireball. “Akeno?

Akeno hurls a crackling bolt of lightning at Yubelluna’s speeding form. It pierces through the fireball hurtling towards her, but otherwise screeches into the distance.

“Kiba and Koneko are outnumbered. Ravel Phenex is there, too. Can you wait until I help them out, or do you need my help now?”

“I… I can wait.” She takes a moment to breathe. “Go. We’re still whittling one another down.”

“Okay. Good luck.”

Akeno darts aside as Yubelluna’s fireball detonates. The shockwave hammers into her wings and forces the air to tremble. She stabilises as another flare builds at the head of Yubelluna’s staff and answers with lightning. The crack of lightning follows her hand and slices across the space between them.

Yubelluna twists out of the path, countering with a searing blast that forces Akeno higher. The sky above Kuoh Academy is chaos: thunder and smoke hang in the air, and devastation ruins the earth. Akeno feels the burn in her arms, the ache deep in her chest, but keeps her expression serene.

Another cluster of explosions forces her to roll, wings beating frantically to keep her ahead of the shockwaves. The air tears around her as she dives, then she snaps upward and calls down a streak of lightning from the clouds above. It splits the air with a howl, forcing Yubelluna to dodge wide.

The attack misses, but the pressure forces her opponent off her rhythm, and that is enough. Akeno follows with wind, sudden and sharp. The gust twists into a cutting blade, slicing through the path Yubelluna just took. She hurls herself through the opening, closing the distance, and strikes with lightning wrapped around her palm. Yubelluna catches the blow on her staff.

The clash detonates with a burst of sparks, tossing them both apart. Her arms throb from the impact, but Akeno steadies her breathing, ignoring the sting in her wings.

Yubelluna’s laughter carries over the storm. “You fight like someone with nothing left to lose. Have you received some sordid news, perhaps?”

“Isn’t that when one is at one’s most dangerous, Bomb Queen?”

Another fireball streaks her way, packed with energy. She can’t block it, so Akeno dives into a spin, narrowly skimming past the detonation. The blast sends her tumbling, but she forces herself upright again. Yubelluna presses hard, hurling a storm of smaller fiery orbs that pop and crack in rapid succession. Akeno dodges left, then right, wings straining to keep ahead. 

The last explosion catches her shoulder and sears through her sleeve, burning flesh beneath. Pain flares hot, but she raises her other hand to release a fork of lightning. The bolt strikes clean, crackling straight into her torso.

Akeno hisses under her breath. She needs to push harder. She slams her hands together, pulling the storm around her into a single focus. Clouds churn overhead, swelling as lightning converges on her call.

Yubelluna answers in kind, staff pointed forward, a burning spiral growing in her grip. Both women release their spells at once. Yellow lightning tears down from the heavens. Crimson fire roars up to meet it. The impact blinds her. Akeno fights to keep herself steady, vision swimming, lungs burning from the heat.

When the glare clears, Yubelluna is still there, wings straining, hair scorched but eyes sharp with fury. She lunges, spinning another wave of roaring fire to life. Akeno twists away, lightning wreathing her body as she narrowly evades. The world is nothing but fire and thunder. She can feel her reserves thinning. One mistake and it’s over, but Yubelluna is tiring too.

Akeno seizes the moment, channelling wind into a spiralling current that drags Yubelluna off-balance. Lightning follows, sharp and merciless, searing into her side before she can recover.

The scream is brief, cut off by another blast as Akeno hurls another bolt. Thunderous arcs writhe across Yubelluna’s frame, locking her muscles, wings included. She crashes into the scorched earth below, rolling to a halt amidst broken stone and smoking craters.

Akeno hangs in the air. Her priestess’ attire is ripped and barely hangs onto her frame. She’s barely standing herself, but she’s won. 

“…I-I didn’t expect you would be this strong. That said, you should be at your limit.”

“All I need is a little rest, that’s all,” Akeno says, forcing calm into her voice. “Seeing you on the ground like that, I should be able to recover in peace.”

“I’m not so sure.” Yubelluna reaches into her robes and removes the vial of Phoenix Tears.

Akeno glances at the track field, where Issei fights off two different enemies. Ravel Phenex’s blonde hair peeks out beneath the cover of a tree. Her gaze returns to Yubelluna, who stands tall now that her form isn’t bent by the weight of her thunder. There’s not so much as a scratch on her skin.

All of Akeno’s painstaking efforts vanish in the blink of an eye. She, meanwhile, is forced to grit her teeth through burns and the familiar leaden weight of her tired limbs. Their demonic power might be at roughly similar levels, but from here on out, Yubelluna will have the advantage, and she knows it.

Riser Phenex’s Queen rolls her shoulders, loose and easily. “Shall we continue, Vestal of Thunder?”

Akeno forces her wings to move, the muscles screaming in protest. She buries Yubelluna in lightning immediately, desperate to seize even a shred of momentum. The bolts rain down, but she evades them easily. Flame returns with twice the fury. Akeno dives beneath the first fireball, only to be caught in the edge of the blast from the second. Heat licks across her back, burning cloth into her skin.

She chokes back the cry and steadies herself with a gust of wind. Another fireball comes. She twists. Another follows it. She spins away again, her wings dragging with exhaustion. Her body strains at every frantic beat of her wings. Her muscles, already screaming, begin to lock. She launches ice in a desperate bid to counter, but Yubelluna’s flames melt it to steam before it even reaches her.

The resulting cloud obscures her vision, forcing Akeno to fly blind, relying only on her senses to avoid the incoming magic until an explosion too big to avoid sends her spinning. The ground rushes up. Akeno barely catches herself, wings trembling as they beat unevenly. Yubelluna descends with fire trailing from her staff like a comet.

Akeno gathers lightning in her palms again, arms trembling, and fires. The bolts scatter. Yubelluna slips past them all, her laughter echoing in the roar of her magic. Explosions hammer the air around Akeno, each one a little closer and taking just that bit more from her to evade.

Her breath tears in and out of her throat. Another detonation rocks the sky. Akeno tries to veer left, but her wing lags just a fraction of a second. The blast slams into her side. Pain sears across her ribs, and she’s hurled spinning through the air, blistering. 

She rights herself, barely, lightning flickering weakly around her fingers.

“Still standing?” Yubelluna says, already summoning another spell.

Akeno doesn’t answer. She can’t waste the breath. Her only hope now is that Issei finishes his fight and comes. But when she looks toward the field, all she sees is the chaos of Ravel Phenex directing her people and Issei’s form pressed on both sides by Riser’s Rook and Bishop.

No help will come. Only another fireball. Akeno makes a desperate dive, just not fast enough. The explosion clips her again, knocking the wind from her lungs. Her body screams for her to stop, to yield, to let herself fall, but she forces her wings to keep beating and her hands to rise.

One last bolt of lightning sputters from her palm, far weaker than the ones before. It snakes across the sky, pitiful compared to the roaring inferno Yubelluna conjures in answer. The flame swells, coalescing into a sphere larger than the gymnasium below. It pulses with unstable energy, bright enough to bleach the colourless sky. Its heat reaches her before the spell is even released, scorching her skin raw.

Akeno’s heart hammers. She has the demonic power, but her body is taxed beyond its means. And in that moment, suspended above the school grounds, she realises she has accomplished nothing.

She will fall here, and Yubelluna will move to the track field, eliminating Koneko, Kiba, and Issei. Even if Issei can beat her, Ravel Phenex will ensure that she finishes the job before going to her brother and eliminating Rias.

Her teeth clench. Her breath trembles. The tears sting worse than the burns. The fireball grows, seconds from release. She can only watch as her impending defeat takes shape before her eyes.

—⧬⧭⧬—

Akeno lets out a long, impressed whistle. She didn’t expect Issei to figure it out so soon. That said, over the months she’s known him, he’s been nothing but surprises.

“Why invisibility?” she finds herself asking.

Issei’s silence draws her attention. His eyes flicker down as though embarrassed to even explain himself. “…Being caught peeping so many times… the one wish you’d have is to be invisible, you know? Even if I’ve put that part of my life behind me, I’ve got to use what I’ve got, no matter where it comes from. Otherwise, Rias will be forced to marry that guy by her parents.”

His tone is plain, unadorned. Akeno folds her arms. “You’re willing to go that far for her even after making it clear you don’t like the peerage system?”

“Why not?” His frown looks almost defensive. “You guys didn’t create the peerage system. You helped me kill Raynare. I’m fighting as her friend—even if my status is that of a servant. I won’t be a servant forever, but I’d like to think we’ll remain friends.”

Friend. The word twists in her chest. Would he still call her a friend if he knew what she was? That half of her is the same filth that broke his heart and murdered him?

She hides the grimace quickly, stretching her smile. “Giving your all for her… you’re a good person, Issei. Well, I can promise you one thing. If you decide to peep on me using this new spell of yours, I won’t be mad.”

It’s easier to tease him, even if he’s grown used to her now.

Issei only shakes his head with a faint smile. “Those days are behind me, I’m afraid. So, am I done for today?”

“Here? Yes, I suppose. As a devil, your demonic power will grow alongside your strength, and unless you want to create another spell, I’d advise you to focus solely on physical training. We’ve only a week left until the Rating Game.”

Her expression falters. He can’t see the weight behind her eyes, but she feels it anyway. Complicated thoughts, sharp and heavy, press at the edges of her composure. Was it something he said? Or simply the way he said it?

“M-Miss Akeno!”

Asia’s voice cuts through her reverie. Akeno blinks, a smile returning as she turns. The interruption nudges Issei toward the doorway.

—⧬⧭⧬—

“Then there’s Riser’s Queen, Yubelluna. Akeno’s stronger than her, but not by much. She’s the second strongest member of Riser’s peerage. …If Akeno can beat her, our chances of winning will skyrocket.”

Hearing Issei’s voice say her name, Akeno freezes in the corridor. Having finished lightening the load of tomorrow’s meals, she was headed to bed when she passed by Rias’ study. She slows, inching as close to the door as she can without getting caught. Rias wouldn’t be upset at the interruption, but something compels her to simply listen rather than make her presence known.

She peeks through the barely open door.

“He has the numbers advantage, which makes it likely that he’ll throw his numbers at us,” Issei says. “Probably his Pawns, though maybe he’ll send a Knight or Rook to ensure that the Pawns can promote. It might be good to set up traps. Do you know what the terrain will look like?”

Rias shakes her head. “I won’t find out until the day before the Rating Game. Commonly, each team will have its base situated in a tower, a castle, or some other kind of fortification. Forests, rivers, or lakes are usually located between the two bases to set up ambushes, different battles, and whatnot.”

“That just means we’ll need to disrupt their formation early,” he says. “We have to eliminate their pawns—and before any of us are eliminated, too.”

With Issei’s back to the door, Akeno can’t see his expression, but she notices the beginnings of hope on Rias’s face. But just as soon as the optimism appears, her face is overcast again.

“There’s still one more hurdle. Phoenix Tears. The source of the Phenex clan’s wealth.” Rias nibbles on her thumb. “It’s a potent healing elixir that leverages their regeneration. It heals the vast majority of wounds, can regenerate lost limbs, and restore one’s stamina, even if they’re on the brink of death. In Rating Games, it’s a controlled substance. Each side is limited to two vials.”

“Do we have any?”

“No.”

“Is there any way we can get some?”

Rias opens her mouth, then closes it with a deep frown.

“What?” Issei asks.

“I…” She takes a deep breath. “No, I could.”

“But it looks like you can’t, or you don’t want to. Why? It’d be a massive help.”

Rias stares at him. “Because to acquire it, I’d have to either rely on my family or my brother.”

“Not wanting to rely on your family, I can understand. But why are you against receiving your brother’s help? He didn’t push you into this marriage, right?”

“No,” she says, smiling. “If I went to him, I’m sure he’d put an end to it, no matter what our parents and the Phenex clan say, but no.”

“...Why?”

“All my life, everything I’ve ever achieved is attributed to my family name or my brother. Never me. I moved to the human world to escape that. The furthest my parents let me go is Kuoh, where my family either directly controls the wealth or is affiliated with people who do. But it’s better than before.”

Rias’s gaze is so intense, Akeno thinks that she’s been caught for a long moment.

“I want to prove myself as an individual… even if it means staking my freedom. I’m sure Sirzechs would be so discreet about the Phoenix Tears that no one would ever truly know he gave them to me, but I would always know the truth.”

She looks away, seemingly embarrassed. “...I-I know it’s stupid—”

“It is stupid,” Issei says. “No matter how you dress it, you’re refusing an advantage Riser Phenex already has out of pride. I won’t force you to ask your brother for two vials of Phoenix Tears, but if we’re doing everything we can for you, the least you could do is return the gesture, even if it means doing something you wouldn’t rather.”

Rias frowns. “I-I…”

“But in the end, it’s your choice, so own it,” he says. “Promise me one thing, though.”

“What?”

“Don’t regret it. It’s you who’s going to live with consequences, good or bad. Our lives won’t change because you marry Riser Phenex.”

Akeno backs away from the door. Suddenly, the realisation that she’s listening to something deeply personal moves her in the direction of her bedroom, even as the words play themselves over in her head.

Is she doing everything that she can? Truly? Compared to everyone else? All Akeno has done is cook their meals and teach Asia and Issei magic.

—⧬⧭⧬—

The fireball swells, vast as the sun, as it descends. Akeno’s wings falter. She can only watch. Yubelluna’s laughter rings over her flames’ roar. Akeno’s breath shudders. The shame stings worse than any burn or cut on her body.

Akeno’s fingers twitch. Her chest tightens.

“Why not? …I’m fighting as her friend—even if my status is that of a servant. I won’t be a servant forever, but I’d like to think we’ll remain friends.”

“Friend, huh?” she mutters.

The fireball ruptures free of Yubelluna’s staff, screaming across the sky toward her. She closes her eyes. Not in surrender. In rejection. Rejection of weakness. Rejection of that word clawing inside her chest.

Power surges, not the familiar storm of magic lightning, but the deeper current she always locks away. Light mingles with thunder, raw and sacred, spilling through every vein until her skin glows. The fireball meets her outstretched hand. Her voice tears from her throat in a cry half fury, half anguish, as a blinding spear of the purest ivory erupts forward.

The world explodes. Light drowns fire. The sky howls as the sacred thunder pierces it, obliterating the Bomb Queen’s spell and slamming into her chest. Yubelluna doesn’t have the time to scream. The holy arc consumes her, hurling her from the air, her staff shattering as her body is driven into the earth.

Dust and smoke curl upward from the crater she leaves behind before ethereal light descends on her form and protects her from further harm. Akeno hovers in the silence that follows, every breath ragged. Her arms tremble, still crackling faintly with white sparks.

She looks at her hands with something close to horror. Her lips twist into a bitter smile. The victory tastes like a spoonful of dust. But she can stomach it—only once—because her friends are relying on her.

Her wings beat once, twice, dragging her aching body toward the track field. Ahead, she sees fire and smoke. Issei, Yuuto, and Koneko stand against Ravel Phenex, still fighting despite it all.

Grayfia’s voice cuts clean through the lingering crackle of her detestable powers.

“Lord Phenex’s Queen has been retired.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 10: Burn the Vows

I rise slowly, expecting my body to fight me on the way up. It doesn’t. Then, awareness rushes up my spine. The room is dark, but I see enough to recognise it as the house we were staying at while training. There isn’t any light streaming in from behind the blinds, so it’s probably somewhat late.

“Damn,” I mutter, finally upright. “We lost.”

“You did.”

I squint until my eyes adjust to the darkness. “...Grayfia? Why are you on Yuuto’s bed, and where is everyone?”

“They are in the underworld. Lord Phenex is holding an engagement party in light of his victory.”

“Even Asia? She’s not a devil, though. It’s been at least twelve hours since the Rating Game, right? I wasn’t so hurt that I’d be out of commission for that long, and even if I was, someone must’ve healed me.”

Grayfia walks up to my bed. “You’re right. Your performance in the Rating Game, despite Lady Rias’ eventual loss, impressed my King, Sirzechs Lucifer. In fact, he was impressed with your peerage as a whole.”

“I’d say I’m honoured, but we still lost.”

I sigh. Sure, nobody died, but this situation… just sucks.

“Answer me this: Ravel Phenex hasn’t been in any of her brother’s previous matches. I think she’s the only reason why we lost that match.”

“Does it matter, Master Issei?” Grayfia asks. “In the end, Lady Rias will marry Lord Phenex. Both families have agreed to it.”

“It’s Master Issei, now? Man, that feels weird to hear,” I say. “Those were the terms, sure… but if Ravel wasn’t there, we would have won. Surely that has to count for something!”

“If it truly was a ploy, then yes, it should. Unfortunately, what Lady Phenex told you was the truth. Her presence as Lord Phenex’s Bishop was not part of a plot to guarantee Lady Rias’ loss. Let me remind you that there was no ruling preventing Lady Rias from enlisting the services of another Knight, another Rook, and another Bishop to complete her peerage. Had she done so, she may have won, given how well she did with a peerage of five.”

…Shit. As much as it burns me to admit it, she’s right. I sigh, trying and failing to expel all the frustration in a breath. It doesn’t work. Instead, the heat sits in my chest, scattered and equally as burning.

“...I don’t know what to do. All I can think of is sneaking to the venue and escaping with her, but that’ll only make things worse. Besides, I doubt she’d agree. It took me guilting her to get Rias to ask her brother for Phoenix Tears.”

“Quite right. Lady Rias is both stubborn and prideful. As much as she doesn’t want to marry Lord Phenex, I’m afraid she’s following her family’s wishes as per the agreement between them,” Grayfia says, laughing softly. “Tell me, what drives you, Master Issei? Do you love Lady Rias?”

“What? No—uh, don’t take this the wrong way, but I don’t have those kinds of feelings for Rias. I-I mean, she is beautiful, but…”

I trail off because it feels like I’m digging my own grave with every word that leaves my mouth, despite my honesty.

“I understand,” Grayfia says. 

“I think of her as a friend. I care about her well-being… but I can’t say that I love her. Not yet.”

She lets me sit in silence for long enough that Mine’s face passes through my mind. Falling in love… it’s just too soon.

“Here.” Grayfia reaches into her apron’s pocket and offers me a black card. “This will take you straight to the venue of the engagement party. Not to worry, you’re on the guest list.”

I turn it over in my hand to see the magic circle printed on its back.

“An outfit has been provided for you.”

“What if I told you I don’t want to go?” I say, looking past her at the black two-piece suit on Yuuto’s bed.

“Lord Sirzechs has a message for you. It’s why you’re here, alone, despite your lack of injuries to explain being asleep that long.” Grayfia paused for a second. “He said, ‘If you wish to save my sister, force your way into that hall.’”

“If he wants the marriage stopped, why doesn’t he do it himself? Isn’t he one of your leaders? Why risk it on me when there's a real chance I might lose again?” I ask.

Grayfia shakes her head. “You’ll have to ask him yourself. I can’t presume to know the workings of my King’s mind. Do you want to save Lady Rias from this marriage, Master Issei?”

“Of course I do! But even an idiot could tell you that I have a snowball’s chance in hell of beating her so-called husband-to-be.”

“Before you lost to Lady Phenex and were eliminated, I sensed a great power stirring within you. The Welsh Dragon is better known in some circles as the Red Dragon of Domination. He was felled only by the combined might of the angels, the fallen angels, and we devils, having put their grievances on hold to do so. God then sealed his soul into the Boosted Gear that you now possess.”

I reflexively look down at my left hand. Ddraig hasn’t told me about any of this. I haven’t even heard his voice since I killed Raynare.

“Just as when you evolved the Boosted Gear in the Rating Game, perhaps you were on the cusp of another evolution. Provided you can bring forth that power, you’ll have nothing to fear. You’re the only one who can help Lady Rias now, Master Issei. I’ll leave you to dress yourself, now. See you at the venue.”

Grayfia bows and removes another card from her apron. She disappears in a crimson flash of light. I turn my own invitation over in my hand.

“To whom it may concern, you are cordially invited to the engagement party of one Riser Phenex and Rias Gremory,” I mutter before setting the card down. “Another evolution, huh?”

Closing my eyes, I cast my mind back to the Rating Game.

—⧬⧭⧬—

I stare out at the ruined section of forest serving as Rias’ battlefield. The Boosted Gear’s blazing aura covers her from head to toe, and it’s all I see before Ravel’s frilly pink dress blots out my entire field of vision, and I force myself to look up.

“...I didn’t know you could do that,” she says, looking back at her brother with a deep frown on her face. “I’ll admit this: maybe if I weren’t here, you might have beaten my brother today on account of his stupid strategy of wasting our pieces. But this was futile from the start. Watch and understand that fact.”

Her words echo as if spoken down a long corridor. Futile. I want to deny it. I want to say that if I push hard enough, something will change, but my body won’t listen. The Boosted Gear feels like lead strapped to my arm, and my sword lies out of reach.

I can’t even close my fist around its hilt, but even if I could, where would using a flaming sword get me against these two? Helpless is all I am, at the moment… and it’s not a new feeling.

The first time it sank its claws into me, I held Ieyasu in my arms as he died while Sayo’s rotting corpse hung suspended from the ceiling. I killed the monster responsible for their deaths, but the worst part was that there was nothing I could’ve done to save them. And now, again, I’m watching Rias fight without being able to lift a finger.

Rias is struggling, and with every drop of power I gave her on top of her own, only to bleed it away against an enemy who can’t die. She doesn’t have much left in her. Ravel moves closer, heat rolling off her in shimmering waves. Her words play themselves back to me, over and over, stoking the cold fury in my chest until it warms and burns.

“But this was futile from the start. Watch and understand that fact.”

I claw at the dirt. Just one chance is all I need, but my arms won’t rise. My chest won’t fill. My body is dead weight, but my rage is anything but.

Rias lets out a raw cry. Crimson darkness surging from her hand. Riser laughs. His flames flood forward to meet hers. Ravel raises her hands beside him, and their power twists together, Rias’s red and their gold folding into a blinding sphere of fire and bloody darkness.

The heat alone sears my skin. My eyes water, and still I can’t look away. I don’t want to. A weight I haven’t felt since I was reborn settles in my chest, like a hot coal sits lodged there, turning everything around it into molten sludge.

—⧬⧭⧬—

I focus on that heat—regret, rage, and frustration—and summon the Boosted Gear. Light presses against my eyelids, but I don’t open my eyes. I sit with it until it burns up my throat.

“Wait a second,” I murmur, snapping my eyes open.

I can’t feel the Boosted Gear on my hand. My left hand is completely bare. There’s a sword on my bed. It’s long, with a straight, dark blade that’s almost metallic in its finish. A short chain dangles from the bottom, trailing loosely behind.

A slitted red eye sits in the pommel and pins me with its gaze.

“Incursio?” The word sends the heat racing through my body, but without the sword in my hand and my desire to summon the armour, the word won’t do anything. “...But how?”

I nearly voice the question to Ddraig before my mind catches up to me. Ddraig’s silence, Incursio’s sudden presence despite the Boosted Gear answering my call when I tried to summon my demon armour against Dohnaseek… there’s just so much I don’t know. Has Tyrant somehow crossed into this world with me?

I summon the Boosted Gear, sighing in relief when it crawls up my left arm with its familiar green flash. Incursio doesn’t move from its position on the bed. I look between the wedding invitation in front of me and the suit splayed out on Yuuto’s bed behind me.

“Looks like Grayfia was right.”

My eyes fall to the Boosted Gear. Hey, Ddraig… can you hear me? Even if you can’t, after this marriage thing… I’ll find out what happened to you.

—⧬⧭⧬—

The card in my hand pulses. A crimson magic circle blooms at my feet before I can second-guess my choice. The room’s floor vanishes in a rush of light. I feel the air’s gentle caress against my face before my eyes can get over the teleportation magic’s sudden flash. When the dark splotches fade, I look upon a massive hall of marble and gold.

Faint laughter spills out of the high windows. Looking around, there aren’t any guards like I expected. Then again, the air itself feels heavy. A lot of the guests inside are strong enough that guards would be a meaningless decoration.

I work my jaw over before invisibility settles. Paintings of red-haired men and women resembling Rias line the hallway leading to the main celebration area. A deep breath steadies my nerves, and I slip through the doors.

Nobody notices me. Inside, the party is practically identical to any kind of ball or noble gathering I can imagine from my past life. Akeno, Asia, Koneko and Yuuto are in a corner, surrounded by a sizeable crowd of people. Many of them are busy chatting with Asia, who seems overwhelmed, but Akeno and Kiba are surrounded by young men and women, respectively.

There are more familiar faces, too, such as the entire student council and Sona Sitri herself. I weave through the massive hall until I reach a door at the back. My invisibility hides me from sight, but it won’t mask the sound of shoes on polished stone or the faint shift of air if I pass too close. I keep my breathing shallow and let the chatter and music cover my sounds for the most part.

A noblewoman turns her head just as I pass. I freeze mid-step until her attention drifts away again, but make it to the end of the hall unimpeded. The door opens easily under my hand. Beyond it, the noise of the hall muffles into a distant hum that’s replaced by perfume-laced quiet corridors. I trace my path by instinct, hugging the walls and pausing at every corner. Servants drift in and out, carrying trays of food or linens. I count their routes and timing, then slip past in the gaps they leave behind and follow them.

One maid glances back suddenly, head tilting as though she’s caught a sound. My muscles tense, ready to deal with her if I have to. After a moment, she shakes her head and walks on. The corridor bends twice before the air shifts again. A pair of wide doors stands ahead. Gold coils across twin polished wood doors. I push through one, easing it open just enough to see through the crack.

Rias sits at a mirror, attendants fussing over her white dress, straightening every fold, and pecking at her hair with brushes and combs.

“I’d like a moment alone if that’s alright.”

I back away from the door. The servants pass me by in the hallway, and I slip through the door without needing to stop it from closing. My reflection appears beside Rias’ in the glass, and her eyes widen for half a second before concern floods her face.

“You’re okay. You wouldn’t wake up, even after I fed you Phoenix Tears,” she says, smiling. Then she whispers fiercely, “You shouldn’t be back here!”

“Maybe not, but I want to run something by you. Your brother wants me to fight for your freedom. Everyone else has been making choices for you. I’m not here to add to that. I came to ask what you want.”

Her lashes lower as if the weight of the question pulls them down. “What I want doesn’t matter. It hasn’t for a long time.”

I shake my head. “Do you want me to fight for you? If you tell me you’re fine with this, I’ll walk out that door and let it happen. We both know you’re not, but I’m going to take you at your word.”

“Can you even win?” she asks. “I watched Ravel throw you around like a ball, and Riser’s stronger than her.”

My hand instinctively goes to Incursio at my back. I put Yuuto’s baldric over my suit. The other guests weren’t armed, but given what Sirzechs Lucifer’s asking of me, I reckon I’m an exception.

“I can win.”

The red gloss painted across her lips thins, and she bites down before the tremor along their length can show. I’ve seen that before. Not in a highborn daughter of devil aristocracy, but in farmers, soldiers, bereaved parents, and kids half her age.

People came to Night Raid with that same look. You learned to read the tightness in their jaw and pretend that they weren’t blinking too long to stop their tears. Rias’ shoulders stay square and her chin high, but her fingers are bone-white around the fabric bunched in her palms. I watch her chest rise, shallow and tight, and I know she’s like them too.

Her eyes close, lashes low. She breathes out. “...I-I don’t want this.”

When she opens her eyes again, they’re wet but sharp. Those words are all I need.

I vanish from the mirror, leaving her a smile. “Then I’ll fight.”

—⧬⧭⧬—

I re-enter the hall through the same door that I left. It’s not difficult. The guests aren’t exactly watching the door, but just to be safe, I trail after a line of servants carrying trays of bite-sized snacks and slip through behind them.

The music pours down from on high and melds with the sea of conversations. I move over in the direction of my friends with my head on a swivel. I can’t seem to find Riser Phenex, not further inside the building, or out here in the hall. Ravel Phenex is here, though, surrounded by a crowd of girls, older and younger, who hang off her every word. She seems to enjoy the attention.

My eyes pass over a brown-haired woman that I don’t make much of until I notice her red-haired partner. Are those Rias’ parents? Where’s her brother, then? Or Grayfia, for that matter. I move around the hall, still under invisibility, until I find another head of long red hair. Eyes as blue as Rias’ turn and find me through a sea of about two dozen bodies.

Sirzechs Lucifer looks straight at me and smiles. Grayfia and a boy with crimson hair and grey eyes stand behind him. I freeze on the spot. It’s not that I’m surprised at being caught. I’m only invisible… but there are twenty people between us.

Fire roars to life in the centre of the hall, washing the room with brief but intense heat. The conversation dies off. Riser Phenex stands, clad in loose white robes that hang off his shoulders.

“Renowned nobles of the underworld! Let me thank you on behalf of the House of Phenex for your presence here tonight. I’ve asked you here to enjoy this historic moment with me, Riser Phenex, as I celebrate my engagement to Rias Gremory, the next head of the distinguished House of Gremory.” Riser sweeps his hand towards the double doors leading out of the hall and into the halls I came from. “Now, allow me to present my wonderful wife-to-be.”

The doors groan open. Rias enters the hall to thunderous applause. Riser slings his arm around her shoulders.

I dispel my invisibility. “Ladies and gentlemen! I know this isn’t the actual wedding, but I’m objecting to this marriage.”

My words don’t go down well. The guests begin to whisper, and two men who bear a resemblance to Riser step towards me.

“What’s the meaning of this, Rias?” Riser asks, frowning.

Sirzechs stands between me and him.

“That’d be my doing, Riser,” he says.

One of Riser’s brothers stops in his tracks. “L-Lord Sirzechs, you can’t just—”

“What’s the problem? I enjoyed watching the Rating Game. Although I couldn’t help but feel a little bad for my younger sister. She was facing off against the mighty Riser, scion of the great Phenex family, while she herself was completely outnumbered and lacking in the breadth of combat experience that you possess.”

Riser’s frown is downright ugly. “…Lord Sirzechs, are you suggesting the match was unfair?” 

“No, not at all,” Sirzechs says, chuckling. “If I were to say something like that, these two great Houses would lose face. We must treasure the relations between high-class families in times such as these, after all.”

“Then what do you suggest, Lord Sirzechs?” a voice asks from behind me.

It’s the red-haired man I saw earlier, alongside his brown-haired wife. All things considered, he looks like a more rugged Sirzechs, and I can see Rias’ features in the woman’s face. Are they Sirzechs’ parents?

“Father. May I propose we make my dear sister’s engagement party into a livelier affair? A Dragon versus a Phoenix. Could there be any greater entertainment?” Sirzechs turns toward me. “Red Dragon Emperor Issei Hyoudou. You have my permission. Won’t you show us your power once more, in my presence?”

Riser laughs. “P-Please, don’t take this as me laughing at you, Satan Lucifer. But this one… well, he’s weak. He’s mid-class, at best. But I suppose I can’t refuse you, can I, my lord? Then this shall be my final performance before settling into married life!”

I smile. There’s no point in trading insults with him.

“Red Dragon Emperor. What would you ask of me should you win?” Sirzechs asks.

“What?” Riser exclaims. “What’s the meaning of this, Lord Sirzechs?”

“He is a devil, after all. If we are going to ask him to do something for us, we must be willing to offer him something in return, wouldn’t you say? The same goes for you, Riser. House Phenex becoming an Archduchal house is an option for you, should you win.”

Riser’s brothers seem ready to interject until he says that. They give Riser a look himself, and he backs down with a saccharine smile.

“Tell me, Issei Hyoudou, what is it that you desire? A noble title? The greatest beauty of the ages to live by your side? What would you ask of me?”

I meet his smile with one of my own. “Grant Rias Gremory the right to choose who she marries, now and forever.”

“Very well.”

The hall is massive, large enough to accommodate a fight within. The guests cleared out to the corners of the room, leaving us an enormous space in the centre of the room. Asia, Akeno, Koneko, and Yuuto are sitting with Rias and her family. Sirzechs, too, is with them, along with Rias’ parents, Grayfia, and that red-haired little boy. Another brother, maybe?

On the other side of the hall are the members of the House of Phenex, their relatives, and their servants. Riser’s sister, Ravel, is among them, surrounded by her crowd of admirers.

I summon the Boosted Gear.

Riser snorts at the sight of it. “You’ve the misfortune of wielding one of the most renowned sacred gears in existence. I know of all your abilities, including that infernal transfer ability. With no one to rely on, it’s useless.”

I promote to Queen and unsheathe Incursio.

Screeching wings composed of deep orange flames surge and envelop him. “For the sake of Lord Sirzechs, I won’t hold back. Unlike with Rias, there’s no need to pace myself. You pose no threat to me.”

“Is that so? Oh, well,” I say. My sword hums like a beast stirring. Heat crawls beneath my skin until my fingers ache around the grip. “Incursio!”

The world goes white. My armour answers. I feel the weight of it crash down on my shoulders, ribs tightening under the sudden bulk. Then pain. My chest seizes, every nerve searing. Something laughs. Not out loud. Not in my head, either. It thrums through the marrow of my bones.

My jaw wrenches open. The roar tears itself raw from my throat, and the hall erupts. Pressure lashes outward like a storm front. Nobles stagger back, dresses and cloaks whipping in the blast.

I taste copper on my tongue. My vision narrows, tinted red. Every muscle strains against invisible strings. I lunge forward, faster than thought, sparks screaming off the marble as my boots carve trenches in the floor.

My fist slams through stone. A pillar crumbles like wet paper. Guests scatter, shrieking. I catch Riser’s golden blaze in the corner of my eye, and my body hurls itself toward it, slavering for blood. He barely raises his arms before I hit him, the impact cracking like thunder.

Glass shatters as we burst through the high windows, the hall’s gold-and-marble splendour vanishing in a rain of shards. We tumble across the night air. His wings flare wide, orange fire catching the shards like embers. I drag him down with me. The ground rushes up, but his flames explode outward, holding us aloft in a storm of heat.

“Filthy mongrel!” he bellows, fire boiling from his mouth and hands. The blaze hammers me point-blank, molten air peeling across my skin.

It should hurt. It does, at first. Searing heat rakes every inch of me raw. But with each wave, the pain dulls. My nerves stop screaming, and my lips peel back in a snarl that isn’t mine.

Riser’s inferno gutters against me. My muscles tighten, the armour crawling higher across my skin, red light flickering at the edges of my vision.

—⧬⧭⧬—

When I resurface, I’m falling. My lungs burn, every breath ragged and shallow. The world swims red and gold around me, distorted by smoke and heat. I look up. The banquet hall is gone. Or maybe it’s still there somewhere and I’m just delirious.

Figures litter the courtyard below, blinking up at us. The air hums with raw power, and in the distance I hear Rias screaming my name, thin and desperate. Above me, the sky blossoms. A sphere of fire the size of a house writhes against the clouds, light searing across every broken surface.

Riser hangs in its heart, wings spread wide, face contorted in fury. “This ends now!”

My body won’t move, not even when I crash into the ground in a crater of my own making. A voice cuts through the ringing in my ears, clearer than it has ever been.

“Wake up, Tatsumi!”

“I-Issei!”

I force my head to turn. My friends look like they’re a second away from running towards me. Grunting, I stumble to my feet, finally managing to get a halfway decent look at myself now that I’m on solid ground. I’m shirtless. My trousers are in tatters, and Incursio’s nowhere to be seen.

My ears ring, but beneath it, a voice holds steady. “You nearly lost yourself, partner.”

I flinch. Lost myself? Where the hell have you been! Why could I summon Incursio? Did Tyrant fucking possess me? Why haven’t you said anything since I killed Raynare?

“I… I’d sequestered myself to properly consume the beast’s essence to see what abilities I could glean from its essence,” Ddraig says slowly. “But like a cockroach, when faced with death, as it did when you died in your world, Tyrant partitioned its sorry excuse of a soul—a fraction of a fraction—and tied itself to yours once more.”

Why? I struggle to my feet. If you ate it once, why would it think…

It hits me then. Tyrant was never intelligent. It wasn’t playing the long game, driven only by survival. And through my willing co-operation, I gave it the opportunity on a silver platter.

“And when you reached for that armour, that’s precisely what you did,” Ddraig says. “That was all it needed to sink its claws into you.”

I bite down hard, fury rising sharp in my throat. Smoke and twisted flames warp around me and are quickly shredded apart by the fiery lances Riser’s hurling from on high.

The Boosted Gear claps onto my left arm as I throw myself out of harm’s way. “BOOST!”

“I devoured what was there, but it cheated even death. That is why you nearly became nothing but hunger. Through some base instinct, perhaps it knew on some level that were it to slowly build strength over time, I would have consumed it once more. Thus this… stunt.”

The fire in the sky pulses, drawing closer. Riser’s voice splits the night with another cry of rage. My knees nearly buckle, but I force myself upright, gripping the air as though it could anchor me.

Then what do I do? As much as I don’t want to admit it, without that power, I don’t stand a chance here. I can’t lose, Ddraig. Do you hear me?

Ddraig’s presence looms vast behind my eyes. “Worry not. The people of your world call it one, but Tyrant is no dragon. Using what little remains of Tyrant’s soul, I will show you what a dragon ought to be.”

Blinding light floods out of my left arm.

“WELSH DRAGON: OVER BOOSTER!”

Blood-red plate covers me from head to toe, edged in gold. Green jewels glow on my arms and legs. Seemingly tattered, gnarled wings curl into me from either side, the colour of dried blood and blackened from within. The helm frames my face in a predator’s snarl, its visor narrow, eyes burning through slits of yellow light.

In my right hand, metal blossoms. A shaft, smooth but heavy, tipped in a cruel spearhead edged like dragonfangs. My spear.

“BOOST!”

More power than I’ve ever felt rips through me, and suddenly, the half a dozen flaming spears sparking the air don’t seem half as intimidating.

“This is the pinnacle of a sacred gear’s power, Balance Breaker, fashioned with your old armour in mind. Familiarity breeds strength, but this is no parasite. This armour is wrought from your will and my power both. This is the mantle of a dragon.”

I flex my gauntleted hand around the shaft. The speartip’s crimson metal gleams. Instinct whispers: throw.

“Recall your spear when you need it. Your bond calls it back, no matter the distance,” Ddraig says.

I weave through each descending fiery lance with ease, wings snapping wide. My arm whips back, the spear glinting. I hurl it. It screams through the night, tearing a burning gash through one of Riser’s wings. He howls, spinning in mid-air. With a thought, the weapon jerks, reverses, and slaps back into my palm.

Riser’s flames bend into claws that rake across the sky. I weave through them, spearpoint leading. I slam the butt into his jaw, bone cracking under my armoured grip. His head whips sideways, fire coughing out with the breath I steal from him.

Only for his face to knit back together in an instant.

“Pathetic,” he sneers, wiping the blood from his mouth. “You’re little better than a beast, clawing with power you don’t understand.” He grabs me by the shoulders and roars into my face from point-blank range.

The world burns gold.

“ADAPT!”

My grip tightens on the spear before I let it go to tear myself free from him. Heat sizzles around me and behind me. The broad, leathery wings beat once before we plummet. I twist him in mid-air, pinning his feet and driving him down. My legs wrap around his torso, and I wrench him into the rubble.

Dust bursts skyward, coating my armour in grey grit.

…Ddraig? What the hell was that?

“Surprised, are you? Well, don’t be. I’ve pondered on how to best integrate that mongrel’s power into the Boosted Gear. Eyes up. You’ll see what it does soon enough.”

Bones snap back into place with wet cracks. Riser’s flesh knits with obscene ease, pink new skin crawling across his ruined face. His wings ignite, cloaking him in a second skin of hellfire that fixes the rest.

“Balance Breaker.” His upper lip curls around the word like it’s poison. “As seen tonight, that power is unstable and uncontrollable. You prove yourself a mongrel.”

“You sound worried.”

He snarls and comes on again, fire wreathing his fists. I debate recalling my spear before meeting him halfway. Elbow, knee, fist, wing, I land it all. His fighting skills are subpar compared to his power, but each wound is undone by that damned regeneration.

“You can’t win. I am eternal! Immortality courses through my veins.”

His wings flare, and the courtyard becomes an oven. Fiery walls collapse on me from all sides like a cage.

“ADAPT!”

This armour is doing a lot of the heavy lifting, but even still, the heat is cooking from the inside, slowly, gnawing at me with each attack. I burst out the other side and smash Riser through the gate and into a dozen trees.

He rises without a scratch marking him. A guttering bolt flashes against my chest and disperses.

“ADAPT!”

Riser throws a dozen more. I dart between each searing bolt.

Ddraig’s voice cuts through the roar of flames. “Understand, partner. Every second in this form relies on what little remains of Tyrant’s soul. You’re not yet powerful enough for Balance Breaker. You have a minute, at best.”

“Then I’ll use it while I have it.” My voice is a growl through the helm.

We clash again, fists colliding in mid-air, wings battering gusts strong enough to rattle the shattered windows of the hall above.

“ADAPT!”

Riser’s face twists. “No… no, no, no—this isn’t possible! My fire is eternal, unmatched! You cannot—”

“I can.”

The gap between us closes in a blink. I drive an armoured fist into his stomach. He folds around the blow. My spear hurtles into my outstretched right hand with a sharp crack. I ram its cruelly wide point through his side. He howls, stumbling back and taking to the skies. Flames roar upward, condensing into a sphere above his head, swelling larger and larger until it banishes the night.

As the sphere descends, its heat bakes the courtyard into glass. Riser’s scream shakes the stones, but even that’s drowned by the attack’s deathly hum. The blaze swallows me whole. I ready my spear. Plates hiss, molten lines crawling across my arms. I roar through it, forcing my wings to move instead of sitting there, rigid with agony.

“ADAPT!”

It’s not enough. Fire gouges into me, baking flesh beneath the armour and melting armour alike. It’s like my nerves sit exposed and ready for the flames to lick at them. I can taste blood bubbling in my throat.

“ADAPT!”

Every breath is a mouthful of knives. My lungs are boiling. The armour clings tighter, trembling against the heat.

“ADAPT!”

The calls buy me a heartbeat of relief, but I’m not sure if that’s just delirium at this point. I stagger forward. Am I even moving? The roaring fire drowns out the constant scream tearing through my throat. The helm cracks. Fire claws into my eyes… but its touch feels more like a warm hug.

My hands grope through the blaze. The spear is there, unyielding, an anchor in the storm. I hurl it. It tears a hole through the inferno, then jerks back into my grip as though the flames themselves fear it.

“ADAPT!”

I hurtle through the attack’s other end, panting. The sphere tears apart behind me. I nearly drown in the cool night and suck it in with gulps that rasp against a throat cooked raw. What’s left of my armour groans on my body. The helm’s faceplate is gone, torn away in the blaze.

I look down at the half-melted metal, fused into my skin. My heart lurches at the sight. I look down at Asia.

…Maybe I’ll be able to get to her before I feel the pain.

The crimson plates across my chest are blackened and cracked like pottery left too long in a kiln. The new wings are tattered shadows of themselves. It’s a surprise they still work. They’re little more than ragged membranes trailing smoke as they beat to steady me.

Behind me, the sun detonates. The shockwave lights the sky in gold and throws firelight across every gawking face below. Its roar rattles the shattered hall windows. Blistering air rolls into me, but the armour takes the worst of it.

Riser hangs across, framed by his own inferno. His wings twitch. Arrogant rage stretches across his face, but beneath it… wide, naked horror.

“...impossible,” he mutters. Then louder: “No one endures my fire! You hear me? No one!”

He thrusts a hand out. A jet of flame, pitiful compared to the sun he’d just hurled, splashes across my chest.

I can’t feel it at all.

The four gems on my arms and legs flare. “EVOLVE!”

“You… can’t… not to you…” Riser raises his hand and aims. His fire flickers, stutters, weakens.

I crash into him and smash the haft of my spear into his jaw. He staggers, healing slowly. I hit him again. His body mends, but not faster than I can break it. Fear bleeds over the indignant arrogance in his eyes.

“Your fire doesn’t matter anymore. Your immortality doesn’t matter. All that’s left is you.”

I hammer him down into the courtyard. His flaming wings gutter out. I heft my spear behind me, metal groaning with the strain of my failing armour. While he falls, I hang above him, every muscle screaming.

Then I hurl it. The weapon leaves my hand like a thunderbolt, its broad spear-tip tearing a crimson trail through the night. Riser’s still falling when my spear punches clean through his chest and nails him into the shattered stone below. His scream rips through the courtyard. I dive after him.

The four gems flash again, bright enough to blind me. The glow fades. My armour shudders, cracks, and falls away in motes of green light. I hit the ground hard, rolling across scorched stone. My chest heaves, and I barely drag myself onto all fours, shirtless, trembling with an agonised effort to rise.

Riser staggers too, clutching at the gaping wound in his torso. My spear is gone, the same with my armour. His flesh writhes, stitches itself back together, slowly but surely. “See? That accursed Balance Breaker is gone! You’re finished!”

I’m engulfed by a tidal wave of gold. I nearly flatten myself against the ground when it looks like the fire won’t stop. It chews at me, flaying my flesh raw. The power gap between us is wide again, but his fire doesn’t burn nearly as badly as I’d expect.

Slowly, I rise, then force a step forward.

“You’re finished!” Riser crows. His wings vomit fire. His eyes are wide, too wide, pupils dilated in something closer to madness than triumph.

I grit my teeth and push through. This is nowhere near painless. Each step I take is agony, but every step I take also shakes his confidence. The fire grows weaker, either out of fear or fatigue, I don’t know.

“Why won’t you fall?” Riser screams.

“...M-Maybe you can regenerate forever,” I rasp, smoke clawing my throat. My body shakes like it’ll collapse at any second, but I keep walking. “B-But your will… i-isn’t infinite.”

He backs away, one step, then two, until his heel clips the fractured stone of the courtyard wall. His fire lashes out again. It sizzles its path across my stomach. I hiss through my clenched jaw… but beyond surface burns… I’m not as hurt as I should be.

I raise my fists. Burned as they are, I’m fully prepared to slam them into him.

“I’ll break that first.”

Riser drags himself upright, his face twisted into something halfway between rage and madness. His hands blaze. “Your Balance Breaker ran out… y-you’re bluffing!”

“A-Am I?”

The first fireball slams into my chest before I can move. Skin splits, the heat digging deep. I’m vaguely aware of my scream, but the roaring flames swallow it. The world tumbles around me. I roll to a stop, but before I can catch my breath, another fireball comes, then another, tearing chunks out of the courtyard around me.

They don’t land. Their heat crackles against my skin.

“BOOST!”

The sudden call is a much-needed gulp of air after drowning. Like an oasis in the desert. If I can just withstand these attacks, I might be able to bridge the gap between us by holding on. I stagger to my knees, charred skin cracking. This time, a fireball catches me on the shoulder. My vision goes white, and I hit the ground again, rolling and choking on the smell of cooked flesh.

It burns, just not as badly as it should.

“You’re now relatively immune to Phenex Hellfire,” Ddraig says.

Relatively? This still hurts!

“Weakened as he is, Riser’s still stronger than you, but if you were of equal strength, you wouldn’t feel his flames.”

“BOOST!”

My hands shake so badly I can barely clench them. The fire scorches across my stomach, peeling skin away in strips. I howl but take another step. It’s a vaguely bearable agony, but agony nonetheless. The Boosted Gear keeps me moving.

Riser hurls flame after flame. Not every attack lands, but the ones that do nearly take me out there and then. The pain’s starting to wane. Maybe I’m on the way out, but no. The fireballs are shrinking until a final weak stream that washes over my chest.

He’s well and truly exhausted.

The gemstones on my left arm flash. “BOOST!”

Orange light gutters at his fingertips, until nothing comes at all. I take one more step before allowing the gathered power to roar through me. 

“EXPLOSION!”

Red and green light surges around me. I throw myself at him. We crash into the dirt together, my fists already swinging. He answers me with a flurry of blows thrown with no rhythm, no weight. They graze my jaw and scrape my ribs.

“My burns hurt more than your punches,” I croak.

Riser’s nostrils flare. I break his nose. He folds, coughing, and tries to answer with a wild haymaker. I catch his wrist, twist, and slam my forehead into his nose again. Blood spatters down his face, but his eyes only flare hotter with rage. He surges forward, trying to overwhelm me with the difference in sheer mass. We’re both tired enough for it to matter.

I roll with him, kneeing him in the side as we hit the ground. His punches rain down, sloppy and desperate. I let them pass me by simply by moving off-centre and answer with a punch of my own across his face, then another. It’s not even close. My attacks were honed through years of clawing through real battles.

Riser’s attacks are simply the flailing of someone who’s never had to learn. The next attack I land rattles his teeth and splits my knuckles. The one after that sends a spray of blood into my face, irritating my burned and blotchy skin. His or mine, I can’t tell. I keep pummelling him. His regeneration struggles to keep pace at a slow crawl. My own hands are breaking; the skin on them might as well be gone, just torn flesh and raw bone driving into his face again and again.

I can hear the crowd behind us, vaguely. It’s a restless, shifting silence.

“S-Stop!”

The cry cuts through the ritual haze of my knuckles against his flesh. I turn, wheezing. Ravel stands at the edge of the crowd around us, hands clutched tight against her chest. Her eyes shine wet, her lips trembling, but she doesn’t look away.

Beside her, my friends watch on, wide-eyed and pale with concern.

“...P-Please,” she says. “That’s enough. He’s my brother. This is over. You don’t have to keep going.”

Her plea hangs in the air. I look back at Riser pinned beneath me by my legs. His face is broken but still regenerating at a snail’s pace. My fist trembles, raised high. I let it fall to my side.

The courtyard shivers as the final heat dissipates, leaving ash and silence. I slump over Riser before I ignore my screaming body as I get up. I force myself to my feet. Bootsteps echo through the silence. 

Sirzechs steps in between Riser and me. His gaze lingers on me for a heartbeat, then drops to Riser sprawled at my feet. “The duel is over. Riser Phenex, you are defeated.”

Riser stirs, a broken sound escaping him.

His eyes meet mine again. They glint, a mix of amusement and gratitude. “And so, I declare this match over.”

Only then do I close my eyes. Someone catches me. A cold rush hits my lips before I even register the vial. The world lurches, then steadies. My vision sharpens from gloaming soup into colour again, and breath floods back into my lungs.

I blink up to see Asia kneeling beside me, her hands shaking as she lowers the empty vial. I look past her to see the same concern in everyone else’s eyes. Around us, nobles whisper in disbelief.

Riser hasn’t moved, even after having been fed a vial of Phoenix Tears by Ravel. She stares at him for one long moment, then marches towards me. My friends form a line between me and her, and she backs away.

Sirzechs lets Ravel pass, then adds: “By my authority, the engagement between Rias Gremory and Riser Phenex is annulled.”

A good deal of the guests left towards the end of the fight, but those who stuck around to stay don’t take the news well. Gasps and muttering follow his announcement. Rias rushes towards us from her father’s side. Rias’ mother passes behind her and sighs.

“Issei!”

She throws herself at me, toppling me over. I’m about to gently push her off… but then I feel the first warm droplet against my shoulder blade and stop. She tries to stifle her sniffling, but her trembling gives her away.

And I don’t say a thing.

“Hey, Rias! Is this the Pawn that took all eight pieces to reincarnate? Because if so, man am I impressed!”

I feel Rias’ weight shift. I gently push her away and turn around. From the ground, massive doesn’t do him justice. I’m practically sitting in his shadow and can’t really see past him either. I… don’t know what to make of him. He’s so strong that I can’t even guess how wide the gap between us is.

“Sairaorg?” Rias says.

He offers me a hand and pulls me up the minute I take it. “I’m Sairaorg Bael. Rias’s cousin. And you?”

“Issei Hyoudou.” I shake his hand.

“Your Balance Breaker looked interesting. It’s not the usual Scale Mail, is it?”

“How do you know?” I ask.

“Sacred gears aren’t new. People have researched them across history, and yours is perhaps one of the most documented ones ever.” Sairaorg smiles. “Say, how long have you been a devil?”

The sudden shift in topic takes me by surprise. “...A couple months.”

“And you’re this strong already? I can’t wait to fight you!” Sairaorg laughs and looks over my head. “Oh, hey, Sirzechs!”

“Sairaorg.” He smiles. “Apologies for cutting the festivities short.”

He pats my shoulder. “I had more fun than I expected thanks to this guy.”

“I’d very much be grateful if we could take the festivities to the Gremory house, Sona, Sairaorg? Have you kids get to know each other and whatnot.”

Sona Sitri and her peerage stand next to my friends and freeze at Sirzechs’ mentioning them.

Sairaorg nods. “You know, I think you’ve got another reason for that suggestion. Perhaps it has something to do with Auntie Venelana.”

“...Well done once again, Issei,” Sirzechs says to me.

“I’d like to ask you something—” I begin, only to be cut off by him.

“We shall speak at the house, I promise you.”

He walks back to his parents as guests leave the venue in droves, muttering and whispering at and about Rias and me.

I look around at the small crowd of people around us. Save for the lanky old man and a few others, we’re all mostly the same age.

“...I’m cold. Does anyone have anything I can wear?”

Chapter Text

Chapter 11: Charred Truths

One mass teleportation later, and we’re in another lavish building. I can’t tell the difference between the celebratory hall and this one; it’s just as fancy. Rias’ father shows us all into a drawing room before leaving with Rias, Sirzechs, and his wife.

Grayfia stands next to the door after showing the little red-haired boy from before to the couch. Surprisingly, Koneko sits him on her lap and begins to pat his head. Someone lays out food, and the silence is strange until Sairaorg breaks it.

He introduces his peerage one by one, before sending them off to get to know everyone, and the buzz of conversation fills the room. There’s his Queen, Kuisha Abbadon; his two Bishops, Coriana Andrealphus and Misteeta Sabnock; his Knights, Liban Crocell and Beruka Furkas; his Rooks, Gandoma Balam and Ladora Buné; and then his Pawn, Regulus.

Sairaorg’s Rook, Ladora Buné, walks up to me. “Red Dragon Emperor. From one dragon to another, your battle was a mighty one.”

“Buné…” Ddraig hums. “That’s the one devil house that can transform into dragons? Still, to call himself a dragon… ridiculous.”

What did he do to you? Relax!

Ddraig gives me the equivalent of a lazy shrug.

I swallow my amusement. “Thanks, Mr Buné, but I wouldn’t call it mighty after that rampage.”

“Perhaps,” the old man smiles at me. “But you regained control in the end and fought until your enemy could no longer resist you. I believe your efforts are worthy of praise.”

I smile. “Thank you, sir.”

“Please, call me Ladora.” He bows once more and walks away.

I look around. Yuuto is completely absorbed in conversation with Sairaorg’s two Knights. His Queen and Bishops, meanwhile, are chatting with Sona Sitri and her peerage while Sairaorg himself is with Akeno and Koneko.

His Pawn stands to his side, staring at Koneko and the little red-haired boy on her lap. As unfazed as ever, Koneko chews through a fruit bowl, though she stops to offer him some grapes before continuing. That only leaves Sona’s… Pawn, I think, to wander around.

He spots me as soon as I notice him and gives me a jerky nod. I wave at him. He walks over.

“...Hyoudou.”

“Do we know each other?”

He shrugs. “Not really. I’ve stopped you and your friends from peeping a few times, but that’s it. I noticed there’ve been fewer complaints about you three since you became a devil. Some say it’s thanks to you.”

“It’s a bit difficult to go back to peeping after finding out all this stuff is real.”

“You’ve got that right. I’m Genshiro Saji, by the way. Student Council member and Pawn of Sona Sitri.”

“How’d you become a devil?”

Saji laughs. “Funny story, actually. I was walking home one day, and just as I was leaving the train station, this old man was handing out flyers. I took one because it was cold out, and he didn’t seem to be finding any luck. Well, fast-forward a few hours, and I’ve accidentally summoned President Sitri into my kitchen. Thankfully, my little siblings were asleep.”

“Same here. I was on a date when he handed me one.”

“You, on a date? Oh, who am I kidding… I saw how Rias Gremory hugged you and how hard you fought for her. You’re light-years ahead of me.” Saji deflates, looking forlornly at his friends around Kuisha Abaddon.

I follow his gaze. “You’re in love with Sona Sitri?”

He nods. “...Any advice?”

“Just… be yourself?” I say, scratching my head. That’s what always worked for me anyway.

“Why does everybody say that? As if just being yourself will suddenly work after years of no success!” He’s so wound up that he’s partly hunched over and wild-eyed as he speaks to me. That’s why I nearly feel bad about my next sentence—even if I say it with a full smile.

“Not with that attitude, you won’t, Saji.”

Saji’s fists clench. “...Hyoudou, I take it back. You’ve improved for the worse.”

I laugh and leave him with a pat on the shoulder, moving over to Akeno, Koneko, and Sairaorg.

“I see you’ve found some extra clothes,” he says, looking over my simple dark red dress shirt.

I smile. “Mr Zeoticus gave me this.”

“Mr Zeoticus? He seems like he likes you,” he says.

“How do you know?”

“If he didn’t, he’d make you call him Archduke Gremory.”

Akeno hums. “When Issei marches in like a fairytale hero and saves one’s daughter from a marriage she didn’t ask for, it’s quite difficult not to like him.”

I was expecting some kind of dirty joke from her, so the compliment genuinely unsettles me for a moment.

She notices and giggles. “If it makes you feel better, those trousers are a little too tight in the back. Do walk a little slower for me when you leave, please.”

“You know what? That actually worked,” I say.

Sairaorg’s booming laugh nearly makes me flinch. “You’re an odd bunch!”

I turn to Regulus Nemea. “I’m Issei Hyoudou. You?”

“I am Regulus.”

He stares at me. I wait for more: a question, elaboration, anything really, but it doesn’t come. Regulus instead resumes his vigil at Sairaorg’s side.

“Don’t take it personally,” the black-haired man says. “Regulus isn’t a talkative guy. Besides, I do enough talking for both of us.”

“Indeed, Master,” Regulus says.

Sairaorg snorts. With that avenue of conversation shot dead, there’s only the little red-haired boy. But when I look at him, that seems to be all that was stopping him from bolting out of his seat.

He nearly trips over the rug on his way towards me. “Hi! I’m Millicas Gremory! You were amazing! You were—when the fire—when you punched Riser through the—”

“Millicas,” Grayfia says from the doorway.

He glances back at her, then at me, cheeks red but still grinning. “I’m sorry… but you were really cool,” he says.

That brief by-play between the two of them… is Grayfia his mother?

I shake my head, but can’t stop the corner of my mouth from twitching. “Nice to meet you, Millicas. I’m Issei. I appreciate the compliment, but you want to know something?”

He leans in and nods emphatically.

“That fight was nowhere near as fun as it looked. His regeneration made it an absolute nightmare.”

Millicas blinks, caught off guard. “But you still won, right?”

“Yeah,” I say, exhaling through my nose. “Barely. It’s not as fun as it looked from the outside. Every time I landed a hit, he was already putting himself back together.”

He hums and returns to Koneko. I look around the room. It’s been almost half an hour here. Sirzechs had promised to meet with me, but so far, he’d left me to twiddle my thumbs. 

I glance over at Grayfia. “Would it be possible to take me to Sirzechs? I’d really like to talk to him, and he promised to.”

“Certainly.” Grayfia gives a slight nod. “I’ll escort you to him.”

Millicas looks at me with a slightly downcast expression, but then his eyes spark with a new idea. “C-Can I come with you?”

“No, Millicas,” Grayfia says firmly. “Remain here.”

“But…” Millicas looks at me, eyes wide and pleading, but I can see the moment Grayfia’s decision sinks in. He lets out a small sigh, his shoulders slumping. “Oh… okay,” he mumbles. “I’ll be waiting here then.”

“Shall we, Master Issei?”

—⧬⧭⧬—

Grayfia comes to a stop at a door on the second floor, and I do the same. It’s open. Inside, Rias and Sirzechs sit on a couch while their mother paces up and down before them. Their father stands against the wall in a corner, his eyes finding us first. Rias’ gaze flickers to me for a heartbeat before she looks at her mother, who doesn’t seem to have noticed we’re here.

Or maybe she doesn’t care.

“You’ve disappointed me, Sirzechs. Where I thought you saw sense, you instead turned everything into a circus,” she says.

“Mother,” Rias cuts in, her voice tight. “You—”

“Rias, be quiet. You let your childish whims stand in the way of everything I’ve worked for on this family’s behalf.”

Rias’ nostrils flare. “You’re calling me selfish? Everything has always been about what you think is best for the family, and everyone else be damned.”

“R-Rias, come now,” her father says, only for both Rias and her mother to turn on him with such intensity that he clenches his jaw.

Sirzechs winces before his eyes dart to Grayfia and me. “Ah, well, it looks like there’s someone at the door. I’ll just—”

He rushes past me, almost tripping over his own feet. It’s such an uncharacteristic move that it takes me a second to process what just happened. Grayfia breathes out the softest sound of exasperation.

Sirzechs’ mother’s purple eyes follow Sirzechs and stop at me, her gaze long and hard and contemplating. She turns to Rias and sighs. “I only ever wanted what’s best for you. One day, you’ll succeed your father as the head of this family. Your marriage to Riser would have expanded our reach and influence. That family has a monopoly over who acquires Phoenix Tears, but had you married Riser, we would have possessed a piece of that pie.”

“I don’t care!” Rias fires back. “I never wanted to marry Riser!”

Firm hands descend on my shoulders, steering me away. Grayfia closes the door behind me, but it doesn’t do much to muffle Rias and her mother’s shouting. Sirzechs lets go of me once we’re far enough away that I can’t hear the yelling. Grayfia lets us into a room similar to the drawing room downstairs.

Sirzechs looks at me. “After you.”

There are two couches positioned on either side of a low coffee table. I sit on one, and Sirzechs sits on the other. Sit is putting it bluntly. Sirzechs collapses into it with a great sigh, leaning back and staring at the ceiling for ten long seconds before he straightens and faces me.

“I understand that your first impression of me might not be a very good one,” he says.

“Why go through all of this to stop Rias’ marriage to Riser?” I ask. “You could’ve put your foot down and stopped it instead of relying on me.”

Sirzechs smiles. “You heard my mother, didn’t you? There was a lot more at stake in this marriage than the marriage itself. Strictly speaking, I’m not a Gremory anymore. I renounced the name to take on the mantle of Lucifer. Had I used my power as a Satan to stop this marriage, it’d bring scrutiny onto my family for reneging on their agreements by hiding behind me.”

I frown. Marriage is meant to be for the sake of love. Using it to further political ambitions… I’ll never understand it.

“That’s not the only reason, though. I love my little sister dearly, but our relationship is… complicated,” he continues, smiling at the look on my face. “More than anything, she loathes not being judged according to the merits of her actions. If she didn’t have a problem with it, I’d have stopped this marriage in a heartbeat, but all her life, she’s been constantly compared to me and measured up against the Gremory name. She’s still young, you see; everyone in the world will judge her not as just Rias, but as Rias Gremory, sister of Satan Lucifer.”

Sirzechs sighs, and the exhaustion returns to his face.

“Truth be told, I was surprised she asked me for Phoenix Tears,” he says. “Of course, I provided them, but resorting to asking me for help is something Rias has taken umbrage at since she became a teenager.”

A smile twitches at the corners of my lips. “That was probably my doing. I uh… criticised her reason for refusing Phoenix Tears when Riser was guaranteed to have them. We were already going in disadvantaged, so refusing Phoenix Tears out of pride made me a little angry.”

“Is that so?” He blinks and studies me for a moment. “In any case, I wanted to thank you for fighting so hard on my sister’s behalf. Honestly, I had no idea that Ravel Phenex was a part of her brother’s peerage. The chances of Rias winning were low, but I hoped she’d overcome the odds with you at her side. Of course, that wasn’t the case, but given you’d evolved the Boosted Gear during the heat of battle, I cast the dice anyway and set up that match between you and Riser.”

Sirzechs places his hands on his knees and bows deeply. I blink, not sure what to make of the gesture, for a while.

“But… what would you have done if I lost?”

“I’d likely have pushed for the original date for their marriage. Judging by her performance with ten fewer members, Rias would have been able to win her freedom.” Sirzechs smiles. “Now, you said you had something to ask me?”

“Not just one thing,” I say. “And it’s not really related to Rias or the marriage either.”

“I’ll do my best to answer your questions.”

“I’ve got a problem with the idea of evil pieces. I understand why they were created, but isn’t it slavery with extra steps?” I shift a little in my seat. “I’m stuck for the thousands of years that I’ll live as Rias’ servant. Granted, Rias is a good person, but that doesn’t excuse the fact that I’m essentially stuck. She wasn’t thinking of anything except saving me, but here we are.”

I clench my fists, feeling the anger rise as the words spill out faster than I can stop them. All these thoughts are things that have occurred to me over the past couple of months. I asked Rias, but she couldn’t give me an answer, and so I swallowed them and told myself I’d shore up on my knowledge first.

But with certain aspects of this system, no amount of context can wash away my disgust.

I stand up suddenly, before sitting back down. “The reincarnated devil doesn’t get a say in being brought back to life, and if they choose to run, they’re dead. How is that fair, Sirzechs?”

Sirzechs’ smile never once leaves his face. The sympathy in his eyes should infuriate me… but in the face of it, I feel my heartbeat slow.

“I think you’re a good person, Issei,” he says.

“...Thank you?”

“Devils are not generally evil, and angels are not wholly good, as life as a human being would have you believe. However, when my friend Ajuka—one of the other three Satans—created the evil pieces, I brought up your very point to him myself. At the time, I was shocked. We’d fought an entire war against our tyrannical predecessors, only to discover him creating instruments of very possible tyranny.”

“A rebellion?” I ask.

“Rias hasn’t told you about the rebellion yet? Then, allow me to give you a history lesson before I tackle your criticisms.” Sirzechs leans forward, clasping his hands together. “Lucifer, Beelzebub, Leviathan, and Asmodeus are titles now, but several hundred years ago, they were the founding families in charge of the underworld. During the Great War, the founders of these bloodlines died, leaving their descendants in charge, who abused their power and tormented the underworld’s people over centuries. The resentment coalesced into a rebellion led by the current Satans, backed by the power of the discontent—be they nobles or otherwise—behind us.

“Back then, I was Sirzechs Gremory. My friends and I, as they were known then: Ajuka Astaroth, Falbium Glasya-Labolas, and Serafall Sitri, fought against them as part of the rebellion effort. I didn’t want to fight at first. Honestly, I was content just to live my life caring for my loved ones. Thus, the rebellion went on without me… until their cruelty found my doorstep and I realised then that I could abide it no longer.”

The silence between us is heavy. He might not know it, but I know exactly how he feels, and hating him becomes slightly harder.

“All of that is to say I understand your feelings, but you are under a misconception,” Sirzechs says. “The vast majority of reincarnated devils are not reincarnated by force. Think of it like a method of recruitment. Yes, the pieces exist to grow the number of combat-ready devils in our service, but those who are reincarnated do so willingly. Because in return, they are provided with facilities to grow stronger and benefit from the wealth and status of nobility.”

I frown. “What about those who are reincarnated against their will? Access to resources and training doesn’t justify being hunted down like a dog for running away.”

“Kill-on-sight orders are only saved for stray devils who decide to kill innocents. Usually, where a devil has strayed from their peerage, the orders are to capture them so we can find out why and act accordingly. Surely Rias told you?”

“The first time I asked her these questions, I overwhelmed her, so I decided to keep them to myself and do my own research,” I say. “And then you appeared.”

“Well, I’m afraid to say that I can’t lay all your concerns to rest. Abuse towards reincarnated devils is a serious problem, despite not being legal. Forcibly reincarnated devils are… a difficult subject, to say the least. If malicious intent is proved, the King in question is arrested, their peerage is freed of any service to the devil or the devil’s household, and they become regular citizens.”

“Then what did you mean by forcibly reincarnated devils being difficult?”

“What of those whose Kings reincarnated them to save their lives, as Rias did yours? Unless they choose to free them, they are bound to a life of service to their King until they themselves reach the rank of high-class.”

I frown. “So, what? They have to stay, even if they want to leave?”

“Leave and go where?” he asks. “Back to the human realm, where they’re likely to be hunted down and killed by an exorcist? It’s safer for a reincarnated devil to remain in the underworld than to return to the human realm. Besides, to be a part of a peerage is to be high-class by association, benefitting from wealth and luxury. How many people do you know who’d sacrifice a lavish life under someone’s employ for the freedom to live in poverty?”

“A cage, no matter how big and expensive, is still a cage.”

Sirzechs nods. “And yet, in your last moments when you summoned my sister, you desperately wanted to live, didn’t you? Can you tell me you regret the way your life is at the moment?”

He takes my silence as acceptance, but I’m… conflicted. I don’t regret the way my life is now, and I doubt anyone would regret someone saving their life out of the kindness of their heart. Though I know that there are people I left behind who I’d give anything to see again.

“By law, it is illegal to abuse one’s peerage… however, we devils are long-lived beings.” Sirzechs shrugs. “As the Old Satans’ descendants did, there are countless families and high-class individuals who see those of lower station—reincarnated or otherwise—as tools to be toyed with as per their whims. Most only rallied behind me and my fellow Satans because the Old Satans’ descendants refused to distinguish between low and highborn. To them, all devils were theirs to torment. Of course, there’s nothing the more conservative nobles can do besides hurl their dissatisfaction at me for making it harder to get away with their abuse.”

“But it still happens?”

“Yes, it does, because I cannot see and hear everything that happens in the underworld. Victims of abuse from their Kings will not always feel or be able to ask for help, and so long as some refuse to see abuse as such, there will be victims.” Suddenly, a cold light freezes the warmth in his eyes. “Before tomorrow’s end, we Satans could abolish privacy and install surveillance so encompassing that no abuse against a peerage by their King’s hand would ever go unanswered again.”

I can’t meet his eyes—for all my indignation, I don’t know a thing about any of this. With the wrongs so blatantly in front of me, it’s easy to assume the solution is revolution… but it already happened.

Sirzechs sighs, giving me a bitter smile. “And yet my people would be up in arms, as they rightfully should, for the infringement upon their status as largely sovereign beings. So, do you understand why I call the issue difficult?”

My mouth opens and closes wordlessly for a few moments. We fought tyranny, and won… but I died before I could find out what to do next.

Sirzechs studies me for a long moment. His gaze is warm, but intense.

“You’ve asked difficult questions, and I don’t begrudge you that, but if you take umbrage with the current state of the underworld so much, if you want to see it better, then don’t just sit in judgment of it from the sidelines.” He leans forward. “You are the Red Dragon Emperor. I believe your power will eclipse the vast majority of devils alive soon.”

I frown. “What are you getting at?”

“There is little else that can be done except changing the hearts and minds of those already alive and cultivating a sense of right and wrong in the next generation. As a reincarnated devil, you can be someone for the downtrodden to see themselves in, no matter how much I wish they could see themselves in me.” His smile is faint, but incredibly earnest. “Just keep in mind that my fellow Satans and I want the same thing you do: an underworld where people live and enjoy their lives, not endure through the injustices that wear them down day after day.”

For a moment, I don’t say anything. My chest is tight. I think about all the nights I’ve sat awake, turning these thoughts over, raring myself up for a revolution. And now here’s the Devil King himself, telling me the anger is right and has a place.

I wanted to be able to work from within the system, but deep down, I’ve been preparing for the opposite.

“That’s… a lot to put on me all at once.”

Sirzechs chuckles. “In my defence, you put it on me first. I only wanted to thank you for saving my sister.”

“Where do I even begin?” I ask.

“That is the simplest question you’ve asked me yet: grow stronger, Issei. As a devil, and more broadly as a being in this moonlit world, you’ll find that for all that we sit here and discuss morality, it is might that makes right in the end.”

—⧬⧭⧬—

The front door groans open.

“Issei? Asia?”

I crack my heavy lids open. Issei’s father stands past the threshold in a bathrobe with a steaming mug in his hands.

“We’re back,” I say, stifling a yawn. “Can we come in?”

He jerks into motion, stepping aside. I half-drag Asia inside despite being just as tired as she is. The servants at Rias’ house and Mr Zeoticus told me Rias could be full-on, but I didn’t believe it. She likes to act as the big sister at school and in the Occult Research Club room, which means being responsible to a degree.

Or maybe she was putting on a good first impression to win me over, but with Sairaorg with her, the rest of the night was like being wrapped up in a hurricane pulling you this way and that. The result? Well, after teleporting back to Kuoh, we stumble home, half-asleep, as the sun pierces past the clouds the very next day.

“Can I get you guys something to eat?” he asks, watching Asia lean against the hallway wall with some amount of concern. “Your mother’s still asleep, but I’ve got work.”

“I’m going to sleep,” I say. “Asia?”

She hums, turning slowly. “...Pardon?”

“Your room’s that way,” I say. “That one’s my parents’.”

“Right.” Asia smiles weakly and trudges out of view.

Issei’s father chuckles when she’s gone. “You guys don’t seem to have slept a wink.”

“It was the last day of our trip. We… had fun.”

“Fun?” He gives me a knowing look. “I’m hoping there wasn’t any alcohol involved.”

“Not for us.”

“How was the trip? Good, I hope.”

I blink. “It was definitely something.”

“Ah.” A certain knowing look enters his eye. Issei’s father gives my shoulder a firm pat. “Give your girlfriend my regards. I won’t keep you longer, son, so get some sleep. You look horrible.”

As tired as I am, that gets a laugh out of me. “That’s the plan. Goodnight.”

Issei’s father takes a sip of his coffee and raises an eyebrow.

“I meant good morning,” I say, sighing.

I’m barely cognizant on the way to my bedroom, awake just enough to put one foot after another. I fall asleep the very instant I close my eyes, because when I open them next, Asia is standing over me.

I swallow thickly and wince at how dry my throat is.

“...What time is it?”

Asia rubs her eyes. “A little past midday. Miss Miki told me to wake you up. She’s made eggs for us.”

“She’s awake?” Then, I ask: “When did you wake up?”

“Just now,” she replies. “The bathroom’s free, by the way.”

Minutes later, we’re in the dining room. I can’t say I’m well-rested, but the few hours I managed to grab are at least better than going without sleep at all. Issei’s mother is just about finished plating for me when I get there. Asia’s already halfway through eating her own breakfast.

“Afternoon, Issei,” Issei’s mother says, smiling as she slides my plate across the table.

I frown. “Afternoon? It’s not—” Then I get a look at the clock hung on the wall. It’s about five minutes past twelve. “...I’ve never been up this late.”

“In recent memory,” she finishes. “Or do I have to remind you of your late nights watching things that I’d rather have scrubbed from my memory?”

My face warms at her words. Cleaning out Issei’s room… I found tapes and tapes of videos I regretted playing. But when you see strange disks labelled with some obscure title or another, it’s hard to overcome the instinct to play them.

Asia gasps, setting her phone down on the table with a clatter. “Oh my!”

“What is it?”

“I’ve been hired as a receptionist at Aoba Clinic!”

Issei’s mother beams at her. “That’s lovely, dear.”

“I didn’t know you applied for a job,” I say.

Then again, it does make sense. Asia’s only going to school to receive the qualifications to become a doctor.

“Don’t let him sit there and judge you, Asia dear,” Issei’s mother says, waving her fork at me. “He’s never worked a day in his life.”

I shake my head and laugh. “When did I say it was a bad thing? I think you’ve been waiting for an excuse to say that.”

“Why, I would never,” Issei’s mother says, but her smile betrays her words. “That said, a job would be your first step towards learning about financial responsibility firsthand.”

Asia giggles, and Issei’s mother starts to question her about her role, the hours, and the pay.

I listen in but don’t say much, opting to focus on my food. When I’m done, I stay seated at the table, reaching for my phone in my pocket. Unsurprisingly, there’s a text—likely from someone to the Occult Research Club chat group. But when I unlock my phone, I see that the text isn’t from the chat group.

It’s from Akeno, and simply reads:

Hey. Can we talk? Come here as soon as you can.

Below the message is an address. I look up from my phone. Asia and Issei’s mother are still talking.

“I’m going for a walk, but I’ll be back,” I say.

Asia nods. Thinking that’s the end of it, I turn around and walk towards the door.

“Oh, wait a minute,” Issei’s mother calls after me. “Take the shopping list from the fridge. I was going to ask your father to grab this stuff after work, but since you’re going out, there’s no need to bother him.”

I walk back and pull the list from underneath the magnet pinning it to the fridge, then wait for Issei’s mother to say anything else, but she goes back to talking to Asia without a care in the world.

“Hey.”

Both she and Asia look at me.

“I’ve got no money.”

Issei’s mother stifles her smile. “Well, if you had a job like Asia here—”

“Oh, come on!” I laugh. “Asia might have a job, but ask her if she has any money on her at the moment.”

“I’m not involved in this,” Asia says, raising her hands. 

“If she’s going to use you as an example, then you’re involved.”

Issei’s mother tuts. “Take the money from my purse.”

“Thank you,” I say. “That’s all you had to say. I didn’t sign up for the judgment.”

“It’s my job. I will judge both you and your father for as long as I live, unfortunately.”

“But not Asia?”

She smiles. “Never her. She’s my sweetheart.”

“Tyranny. I’m living under a tyrant.”

“And don’t you forget it.”

—⧬⧭⧬—

The address Akeno sent leads me to the outskirts of town, specifically, to a quiet park, with only one wide trail cutting through its centre. I double-check to make sure I’m at the right place before walking down its length with a little confusion. It’s a strange request, all things considered, but the longer I think about it, the more it makes sense.

Given all that’s happened, it makes sense that we’ve ignored the elephant in the room until now. But the fact remains: during the Rating Game, Akeno wielded Holy Lightning. She didn’t seem keen on telling me then, and afterwards, she didn’t bring it up at all, and I’d forgotten about it amidst losing the Rating Game and my conversation with Sirzechs.

But still the question remained, and I had no answers. Ddraig? How come she can wield Holy Lightning?

“Besides that girl, there is only one being I know of who can wield the Lightning of God. She must be his daughter.”

And who would that be?

“Baraqiel, who, as far as I know, is the Vice Governor General of the Grigori.”

I frown. Akeno’s a fallen angel?

Ddraig chuckles. “Perhaps her mother was a devil, or a human, and she later became a devil. Regardless, those evil pieces created by Ajuka Beelzebub, for all intents and purposes, made that girl into a devil.”

But she’s still half-fallen and can use holy lightning? That’s… that’s insane.

“Not particularly. Any light or holy attack is still lethal to her, including her own.”

…So, could you become a devil?

Ddraig snorts. “As if I’d debase myself by doing such a thing, but yes. I could.”

He retreats from me then, probably because the very idea irritated him, leaving me alone in front of a red gate. It’s a shrine… the very kind of place Rias and Ddraig had warned me not to go. And yet Akeno invited me to one.

I slow as I approach the gate, looking around. Akeno descends the stone staircase, dressed in a flowing red skirt and a white robe.

“Welcome, Issei. I’m sorry for calling you out here so suddenly,” she says, following my gaze towards the red gate. “We’ll be fine here. We’ve come to a special agreement so that even devils can enter this area.”

I follow her tentatively at first, but relax once the discomfort I expected doesn’t come. Cresting the staircase, we come upon a simple two-tiered tiled building. As we move past the main area and into what’s undoubtedly someone’s home, a question enters my mind.

“Akeno, I thought you lived in the club room. Do you live here too?”

“I move between here as necessary. Since I process the incoming contracts, I tend to work well into the night and decide to stay in the club room at times. It’d be rather strange if I lived at school all the time, no? In any case, feel free to take a seat. I’ll be back with some tea.”

“It’s always tea with you.”

Akeno giggles and leaves me in her living room. It’s perfectly ordinary, with a single long sofa in front of a television. There’s a table for two in the far corner of the room, but besides that, it’s mostly bare.

No photographs of family, or any pictures of any kind at all, for that matter.

“Some tea,” she says, sitting opposite me with a cup of her own.

I take it and take a slow, measured sip. “Thanks. So… how did you end up living in a shrine of all places, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“My mother was the daughter of a shrine priest,” she says, with her ever-present smile still pulling her lips up at the corners. “One day, she came to the aid of my father, who was badly wounded. That was how they met.”

“You used Holy Lightning in the Rating Game. Through your father?”

“My father is Baraqiel, one of the leaders of the Grigori, whose orders Raynare claimed to have been following when she killed you.”

Before I could even process the idea—one I’d chosen to ignore when Ddraig told me—Akeno’s robe slips down her shoulders and leaves her chest bare. I blink, completely nonplussed, until two dark wings curl around her frame. One is the leathery, bat-like wings I’m used to seeing.

The other is the feathered, angular wing of a fallen angel.

“I possess devil and fallen angel wings alike.” Akeno all but spat the words out in loathing as she latched onto the curve of her fallen angel wing with a hand. “I-I… I hate these feathers. So when I met Rias, I chose to become a devil, but I became something in the middle, with one fallen angel wing and one devil wing.”

The silence is thick, syrupy in the sense that it’s hard to move. Akeno ties her robes, looking through her lidded eyes at me and tensing as if she’s waiting for me to judge her. But I don’t want to. Those brief flashes of self-hatred I saw in her are almost overwhelmingly present now.

“My mother died because of the filthy blood within me and—”

“You don’t have to tell me about your past if you don’t want to,” I say.

“N-No. I want to.” She wipes her eyes. “Just like angels, devils, and fallen angels exist, so too do the gods of various pantheons. One of those pantheons is the Shinto, who are worshipped by the Five Principal clans: the Himejima, Shinra, Nakiri, Kushihashi, and Doumon. They live according to their own laws as part of the supernatural world.”

“I’m guessing they didn’t like your mother falling in love with your father very much.”

Akeno smiles weakly. “The Himejima Clan Head is my grand-uncle. When I was ten, my mother and I were at home when people from the clan found out my mother was married to a fallen angel and gave birth to a half-fallen child. They called me an affront to the gods, slew her right in front of me, and were about to kill me as well. My father arrived all too late, but he saved my life… and then I ran. Far away from the Himejima clan, who were pursuing me to finish the job.”

“What about your father?”

She snorts, but there’s not a hint of humour in the sound. “For a year after that, I travelled the country, purifying vengeful spirits with the few rituals my mother taught me.” She waves a hand towards a display cupboard filled with various instruments, like a rope garlanded with paper streamers and a stick decorated with similar paper streamers. “I never stayed in one place for long, because the Himejima were pursuing me to finish the job.”

“Wasn’t running you out of the clan enough for their gods?”

Akeno shakes her head. “To them, my mother and I were perhaps the greatest impurity of all. So long as I existed as a half-fallen child of the Himejima clan, I’d forever be a stain that could incur the gods’ wrath at any time. Eventually, I reached Kuoh and ended up encountering a devil contractor. I used a ritual to dispel the contract between her and Rias, misunderstanding it as some kind of possession.

“Eventually, those from the Himejima clan caught up to me, led by my grand-uncle. Before they could kill me, Rias arrived, managing to get him to spare my life, provided that I become a devil. I am a Himejima only in name.”

I frown. “Where the hell was your father in all this?”

“My mother died because she had me. My fallen blood is the reason she died, and he was too late to save her.” Akeno lifts her head. The gesture knocks the gathering tears in her eyes loose. They scatter down her face and onto the table. “But worse than that, he abandoned me. The day of my mother’s death, almost ten years ago, is the last time I saw my father.”

There isn’t anything to say that wouldn’t sound cheap. I hold her tear-filled gaze while I finish the last of the tea. Her hatred towards her father is understandable, but for the hatred she has towards herself, despite only being ten at the time, I can’t feel anything except pity.

Akeno lets her tears fall freely and sits there, back straight. “…How do you feel now, Issei, to learn the truth? You hate fallen angels, don’t you? Raynare killed you after breaking your heart. How can you not despise them? Maybe I got close to you and wound you up so much by flirting with you because I wanted you to hate me.”

“I don’t despise them,” I say, smiling. “I’m suspicious of other fallen angels because their leader is in the business of killing innocent people. But you’re not with the Grigori, are you? But slow down for a second, is that why you were flirting with me so much?”

She looks away. “...I-I’m despicable, aren’t I?”

I laugh. “I told you already, I’m not going to despise you because of what you are. Fallen angel or not, you’re still the same person I’ve known for months, right?”

For a moment, she just stares at me with wide eyes and parted lips. The silence stretches before she finally lets out a shaky breath. “...You really mean that.”

“I’ll say it as many times as you need me to. Does everyone else know?” I ask her. “Kiba and Koneko, I mean.”

She nods.

“So, what made you think my answer would be any different?”

“L-Let me go wash up.” She gives an almost hysterical giggle and wipes the tears from her face. “Dear me, I’ve made a mess.”

Akeno walks around the table and passes behind me. I relax into my chair and breathe out a deep sigh.

Talk about intense, huh, Ddraig?

Ddraig’s voice rumbles between my ears. “I didn’t know Baraqiel was a coward. The Lightning of God shirking his responsibility to his daughter…”

I frown. I’d go as far as to say he’s responsible for a lot of Akeno’s pain, even if she’s turning it inwards onto—

The faint creak of the floorboards makes me glance toward the hallway, but before I can turn, something warm presses against my back. I go rigid, caught between instinct and confusion. The softness that moulds against me is unmistakably another person’s. Heat seeps through the thin fabric of my shirt, matched by the steady rise and fall of her breathing, and pools in my stomach.

My pulse quickens in response. I feel the slow, careful rhythm of breath against my shoulder as Akeno’s chin descends over my collarbone, along with the faint floral scent of her hair. Her arms slip around me, hesitating only once before tightening.

“You know, you really shouldn’t toy with people like this, Issei. It’s not fair. Don’t you know the effect your words have on people?” Akeno says. Her voice is trembling despite the provocative lilt to her words. “I might fall for you, you know?”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously. Do you like Rias, Issei?”

I sigh, which inadvertently has me lean into her. She giggles, but doesn’t let go of me. “It’s not that simple. I don’t like Rias in that way. I… I’m not ready for a relationship like that right now.”

Akeno hums. “It’s okay. I can wait. Rias and I are in the same spot then, and Asia too, I suppose.”

“What are you even talking about?” I say, squeezing my eyes shut.

“Don’t you worry,” she says, laughing. “Say… can you stay with me today?”

Finally, she lets me go and circles the table, returning to her seat. I meet her gaze. The sheer adoration in her purple eyes makes me look away. Thankfully, my phone buzzes in my pocket and I latch onto the thing like a lifeline.

A message from Issei’s mother drops down from the top of it. I open it and peer at the slightly blurry image of a shopping list.

“I…” My eyes flit between her and the phone. “Have to go shopping for my mother… but you can come with me if you want?”

“I’d love to!” Akeno’s smile then is more genuine than any smile she’s ever given me. “For someone who says they’re not ready for a relationship, inviting me to meet your mother is rather forward, Issei.”

“Wait, what?”

“I suppose I’ll have to get ahead of Rias by winning your mother’s favour,” she says, talking to herself more than me at this point. “Stay here, Issei! I’m going to get changed.”

I’m left in her living room, thoroughly bemused by the last ten seconds of our conversation.

Ddraig, what just happened?

“...Truly formidable. With but a few words, she’s staked her claim and seeks to recruit the aid of your family for her cause.”

Akeno reappears minutes later, dressed in a fitted cream sweater and tight jeans. Her hair glows in the light as she moves toward me with a playful smile. The sweater hugs her form in ways that are making my head spin.

“Are you ready, or do you need a moment?” she asks. “I can wait.”

I open my mouth, but my breath catches. I nod instead. Her smile widens as she gives me a knowing glance.

“Are you sure you’re not ready for a relationship?” she says with a soft laugh. “Oh, I’m only pulling your leg. Come on. Let’s go.”

The image of her stays burned in my mind as she walks past, leaving me reeling.  I take a breath, then another, pulling cold in and breathing the warmth out until my head clears.

And then I walk outside, where she’s waiting for me, and it all comes rushing back.

Chapter Text

Chapter 12: A Day in the Life

Koneko’s fist cracks against Yuuto’s blade. They’ve been at it for ten minutes now. I sit cross-legged at the edge of the clearing in the forest east of the school grounds with Asia beside me. She watches them with that soft focus of hers, sitting cross-legged in the grass and hugging her backpack to her chest. Ddraig’s presence is warm against my nape, which is how I know he’s watching the fight, too.

This has been our life for the past month or so: intense sparring before school and devil contracts after the school day ends.

I lean back on my palms. “Yuuto’s pressing harder today.”

“Yes,” she says, staring intensely at the two of them. Asia winces when Koneko lands a deceptively weak-looking punch that folds Yuuto around it.

With only a low groan, he regains his footing quickly enough to turn his stumble into an attack. Koneko brings up her guard, but he pivots mid-clash, eyes cutting toward me, and the smirk on his face tells me everything. Yuuto pivots mid-clash, eyes cutting toward me, and the smirk on his face tells me everything. Steel hisses through the air before I can rise fully.

His blade angles down, forcing me to roll left, dirt grinding into my bare arm. Koneko doesn’t give me even that breath of space.

“BOOST!”

I summon the Boosted Gear in time and arm myself with Incursio’s sword simultaneously. Ever since the engagement party, I’ve been able to use it without adverse effects—not that I can equip the demon armour, but at the very least, I’ve now got weapons of my own.

She drives a kick for my ribs. I bring Incursio’s sword, the flat surface catching her shin with a hollow clang that still sends a shock down my arm. She uses the flat of the blade as a foothold to flip away, giving me a moment’s reprieve.

But then Yuuto is there, hoarfrost racing along the steel of his sword. He swings in a wide arc that paints heat across my vision. The chill bites into my bare forearms before the sting lessens by the smallest fraction. 

The Boosted Gear’s gems flash bright. “ADAPT!”

I push forward into Yuuto, locking our blades, only for Koneko to hammer a straight punch into my ribs. My breath hitches at the base of my throat. For all its uses, Adapt doesn’t soften raw force. I skid back, breathing out. The pair stand firmly in my eyeline, turned halfway so as not to ignore each other completely.

“Isn’t this a little unfair?” I ask. “Why the two-on-one today?”

Koneko gives a light shrug and goes for Yuuto. I move the instant her shadow cuts across to him. He angles his blade toward her, momentarily following me, but I’m already closing the gap from the other side. My sword thins and lengthens, the tip forming a cruel, wide speartip. He realises too late that deflecting Koneko isn’t the smartest choice to make because turning to me means eating her punch.

I grin, but then I see the calculating flash in his eyes. His blade dips, almost lazily, and the ground at my feet erupts. A thicket of jagged steel groans out of the dirt. Koneko halts mid-stride, forced to twist aside as a blade rips past her knee. My spear swing glances off a sudden wall of steel, sparks biting my cheek.

“Issei, what happened to two-on-one being unfair?” he says, laughing.

I shrug helplessly. “Call it even.”

Yuuto slides between the blades like water through reeds. His ice-coated sword shimmers as another takes its place. This one’s a thinner blade of ivory white, with a gnarled guard that wraps around his sword hand. Yellow lightning crackles along its surface as he rushes towards me. I grip the haft of my spear, hesitating. If I touch him, the lightning will jump through his blade and into me… but if I back away, he’ll simply hurl the lightning at me.

I heft my spear over my shoulder and throw it straight at him. Not expecting it, he slows to deflect the hurtling spear before rushing at me. I summon the spear with a flick of my wrist, but he’s prepared and springs into the air right as the weapon tries to pierce through him on its journey to my hand.

Yuuto brings his sword down. The ivory blade hums with lightning, each snap and crackle sharp against my ears. I angle the spear across my body, both hands braced. The impact shudders through me like a tree splitting in a storm.

Sparks leap from steel to flesh, and my muscles jolt.

“ADAPT!”

The lingering buzz is just that much more bearable, and while my arms twitch, they’re no longer so stiff.

“BOOST!”

Yuuto smirks. Adapt is a skill that grants me resistance to most effects, provided I can withstand the attack. The amount of resistance I gain is determined by the power of the attack. Yuuto has been keeping his attacks relatively weak for that reason, and Sword Birth lets him exploit Adapt by keeping his attacks varied.

His earlier ice sword manifests in his hand the moment he touches down. Koneko barrels back into the fray before he can do much else, though. She ducks under the hissing blade and aims a fist at his ribs, forcing him to twist and guard the attack in time. I whip my spear towards his thigh right as Koneko’s punch rattles his shoulder, sending him tumbling.

She raises her fists and engages me without a moment’s hesitation, but I keep her on the end of my spear for the most part. The wide arc of my sweep knocks her back half a step and forces the re-engaging Yuuto to lean off-line thanks to my weapon’s range. Their boots dig trenches in the dirt.

“EXPLOSION!”

A surge of demonic power floods through me. I clench my armoured left hand and brace against the ground before driving forward. Yuuto’s blade trails hoarfrost, leaving countless icy spheres in its wake. He brings his sword down, and each lump of ice hurtles towards me. I cover my face and grit my teeth, feeling the cold seep into me with each thud.

“ADAPT!”

He made a mistake and made the attack too powerful. I can tell by how sharply the pain fades. The chill of his next attack licks at my skin, not quite numb enough for me to call it complete resistance, but it’s past the point of what I’d call pain. Rushing through the cold mist before he can solidify it around me, I slam my spear against his blade. The weight in my swing shudders through him, forcing him half a step back.

His eyes widen before narrowing into that familiar gimlet squint. I jump over a wall of swords in time, twirling my spear overhead, and keeping him away with its wide arcs. The length also gives Koneko fewer angles to slip through. At one point, he darts in low, but I shove her back with the butt of my spear.

“The Boosted Gear sure is unfair,” Yuuto says, sighing as he deflects my speartip.

“Look who’s talking!” I guffaw at him. “You can make basically any magical sword you want!”

Given that the three of us are mostly equal in strength, the Boosted Gear is a great advantage to have, even with the ten-second cooldown period.

…I’ve not been able to use Balance Breaker again, though. Ddraig says it’s because I hadn’t achieved that power on my own, but rather he was forced to use it to override Tyrant’s possession of my body by using the danger beast’s soul as fuel.

We fight until sweat drips down my nape, and raising my spear makes my arms ache. Koneko hunches over in the grass, panting, and Kiba drops his sword as well. I stagger back, letting the Boosted Gear and my weapon disappear in a flash of emerald light.

Asia’s hands glow green as she comes to meet us. The warmth of her healing seeps into bruises and sore ribs, as comforting as always.

“It’s Open Day, isn’t it? For middle-schoolers and current students’ family members to see what Kuoh is like,” she says, kneeling beside Koneko. “Is Rias running an event?”

I shake my head. “We’re not. Is the Kendo Club doing something?”

“We are.”

“Really? What are you doing?”

Asia smiles. “I’m not telling. It’s a surprise.” I open my mouth, but she presses a finger to my lips. “Nope.”

“Okay, okay, I get it,” I say, moving her hand away.

“Lord and Lady Gremory are coming,” Koneko says. “And Lord Sirzechs.”

“...Don’t remind me,” I say. “You know my parents are looking forward to it. My dad’s even taken paid leave for today.”

“And that’s a bad thing, how? Surely it’d do them good to meet your girlfriend’s parents, Issei?” Yuuto laughs when I pin him with a withering glare.

I massage my temples and get up. “...Let’s go. School starts in half an hour. I need a shower.”

—⧬⧭⧬—

The walk to the main school building is less than fifteen minutes. After our morning training, we cleaned up in the Occult Research Club and headed to homeroom. Koneko broke off from us as we entered the building, leaving Yuuto, Asia, and me to head to our respective classrooms.

Asia and I slide open the door. We’re the first ones here, which isn’t really a surprise. As per usual, our homeroom teacher has a pile of marking in front of her laptop. She’s not here, though. The click of heeled footfalls grows louder behind us, so Asia and I poke our heads out to see the women approaching. The eyes behind her glasses are beyond exhausted.

“A-Are you okay, Miss Isobe?” Asia asks, reaching out only to pull her hand back. “You look very tired.”

Miss Isobe smiles, taking a sip from a horrifyingly strong cup of coffee. She walks past us, setting it down on the table and runs a hand down her nape. “Oh, I’m fine, Asia dear. My neck is stiff, that’s all. I must’ve slept wrong.”

I don’t think she slept at all—or well, but nod along anyway as I take my seat.

“Would you like me to write the Open Day schedule on the blackboard?” Asia asks, already picking up some chalk.

Miss Isobe smiles, sliding a sheet to her. “Thank you. Here’s the schedule.”

“I’ll get started right away!”

Asia glances at the sheet, then walks past Miss Isobe’s desk to the blackboard, setting the chalk down on its tray. Our teacher starts on her marking, paying no mind to anything else, so she doesn’t notice Asia, who was already behind her, moving closer. Not until her hands descend on her shoulders anyway, kneading the flesh under her sweater.

Oh! N-No, really, Asia, that’s—” Miss Isobe stiffens, letting out a sigh, and adjusts her glasses. Her body seems to relax despite her protests. “…H-Hmm… that does feel rather pleasant,” she admits, leaning slightly into the pressure. “I can feel the tension… dissolving.”

Asia glances at me nervously. Her face warms when she sees me laughing at her. “I-I just thought it might help,” she stammers, moving her hands with gentle precision.

Miss Isobe adjusts her posture again, trying to maintain decorum, but her shoulders clearly don’t want to cooperate. “...I suppose a moment more won’t hurt,” she mutters, closing her eyes and letting herself enjoy it for just a bit longer.

Nodding, Asia focuses entirely on the massage, all embarrassed colour fading from her face. So, I get up and copy out the Open Day schedule myself. By the time I finish writing the last line of the schedule, Asia steps back from Miss Isobe with her task complete.

She bows lightly towards our teacher. “I-I hope it helped!”

“Ah… thank you, Asia. That’s much better.” Miss Isobe rubs her shoulders once more, her glasses slightly crooked. “I feel as if I had an entire night’s rest! Who taught you this?”

“I-I grew up in a small church in Italy, Miss, so I learned a lot of things to help people.” Asia gives a small, shy smile and joins me at the back of the class.

“Why’d you massage Miss Isobe?” I ask.

She takes her usual seat ahead of me and turns. Her usually pale cheeks deepen to pink again, and she whispers, “W-Well… I used Twilight Healing. Miss Isobe has been neglecting her health lately… I couldn’t stand it.”

“But how? I didn’t see any light.”

“I learned how to do it because of my work at Aoba Clinic!” Asia turns completely. Her green eyes are alight with enthusiasm. “I mostly work the reception, but I also do odd jobs around the clinic. There are a lot of elderly folk, so I usually massage their feet and shoulders, but that’s usually not enough to heal them, you see.”

I nod. “So, you used Twilight Healing? Doesn’t it create a pretty distinct green light?”

“I’ve developed a way to heal without creating light,” Asia says. “It’s much, much slower, but it works!”

“...Whoa.”

She beams.

“Sacred gears respond first and foremost to their wielder’s desires,” Ddraig says, chuckling. “Such a thing is certainly possible.”

That’s not what I’m surprised about, Ddraig. Asia always finds ways to remind me that she’s an amazing person.

“She does indeed embody the powers of her sacred gear.”

Our classmates begin to drift in through the open door, and with them comes the usual conversational din. I lean my head against the wall and close my eyes, waiting for either Motohama or Matsuda to arrive. The three of us have been going to the gym four days a week regularly for nearly three months now, and the results have only been positive for the two of them.

Motohama’s P.E. grade has gone up pretty significantly, which has been a point of pride for him even more than the increase in muscle mass. Matsuda, meanwhile, seems to have decided to get back into sports, leading to nearly every sports club vying for his attention.

…Not that he seems to want to join the teams. Beyond attending various after-school club activities, he seems perfectly content to remain in the Photography Club, which is good for him, I guess. So long as it’s beneficial for them, I don’t mind going to the gym. I get my own training done in the mornings with Yuuto and Koneko, anyway.

When I next open my eyes, the classroom’s seats are mostly filled. For the stragglers, I can hear the distant chime of the last bell. There’s probably a horde of students rushing through the front gate as a teacher counts the ten seconds till lateness.

“Issei!”

Motahama and Matsuda enter and rush towards me. Matsuda’s let his hair grow out these past few months, falling into a messy, layered mop that doesn’t look all that bad.

But he’s not who my eyes fall on.

“Where are your glasses, Motohama?” I ask. He almost looks like another person entirely. 

He grins. “I got contact lenses!”

A girl from the row next to us leans over, letting out an impressed whistle. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, you do look pretty cute without them.”

Motohama stammers out a thank-you, cheeks red. The girl turns, and her friend laughs at her, causing her to defend the act of complimenting Motohama of all people. Matsuda elbows Motohama with a lecherous grin on his face, which of course brings an equally perverted smirk to Motohama’s.

Three months ago, no girl would have ever talked to them unless they pulled something stupid.

I smile and shake my head.

“Our folks are coming to the Open Day. I’ve a kid cousin who might come to Kuoh High next year, so my parents decided to come too.” Matsuda says. “How about yours? They coming to see you?”

I snort. “Coming to see Asia, more like.”

“Asia’s an angel, so that makes sense,” he replies.

“And I’m not?”

He pats my shoulder. “Us three? We’re the worms writhing around in the dirt, praying for her radiance to pierce through the clouds and shine upon us.”

“...I wonder where this eloquence goes during our literature class.”

Miss Isobe quiets the class down once everyone arrives and goes through the itinerary. Our schedules won’t be changing from morning to midday. The actual activities we do in the classes, however, are going completely off the curriculum so that the parents and middle-schoolers can follow along.

Funnily, until our teacher mentioned it, I didn’t know that Kuoh even had its own Junior High School. College was a given, since Rias and Akeno are in their final year and are going through the application process. But for the Open Day, Kuoh’s opened its gates to middle schoolers from their Junior High School and any other schools across the town for a taster day of sorts.

Mr Isobe claps her hands, speaking over the general rustling as everyone gets ready to leave. “Alright, you’re free to head to your first class! The children and their families will arrive halfway through the period. And remember, Mr Gremory—the head of the Board of Trustees—might drop by a few classes with his family before heading to the third-years, so be on your best behaviour.”

Our first class is English, and, much to the delight of some of my classmates, Mr Fushigurou decides to put on a short movie without Japanese subtitles. Periodically, he pauses it, turning to the class and asking. “Alright, what was just said? Can anyone explain?”

Where insufficient, he asks someone else to elaborate, usually me, thanks to my innate ability to understand spoken languages. Halfway through the period, the door opened quietly, and a wave of parents and children slipped in. The movie continues, but with a softer volume now, allowing the families to settle in and watch the class.

Once the credits roll in, Mr Fushigurou lets the brimming chaos loose. Children run rampant down the aisles, asking any question of anyone they desire, with their parents hanging behind and watching them amusedly.

Of course, my mother and father go straight for Asia, who’s sitting at the front of the class, leaving me to wander. I end up at the back of the class, where a short woman gently pulls me aside by the sleeve to the corner adjacent to the windows, where her husband is presumably waiting.

I don’t recognise them because I haven’t seen them before. But then I do recognise them with that slightly foreign yet familiar sense of deja vu.

It’s Motohama’s parents. At second glance, they look a lot like him—or, well, he looks like them. His mother has that same warm brown hair and height, and his father is just as thin, with those identical almond-shaped grey eyes.

“We just wanted to thank you, Issei,” his mother begins. “Motohama has never been happier as of late. At home, he keeps saying it’s because of you and how patient you’ve been regarding exercise and… we can’t thank you enough.”

I blinked, a little caught off guard. “Oh… well, he’s the one who really put in the effort. It’s not all me. Besides, I’m sure you know that he, Matsuda, and I were just as bad as one another.”

“But you were the one to lead them out of their bad habits.” His father shakes his head. “He’s more confident, more focused, and… he talks about school with such excitement now. Thank you for being such a good friend.”

It’s only when they both bow to me that Motohama comes running over, his face pink beyond belief.

“I-I didn’t say anything,” he mumbles to me, but he can’t meet my eyes.

I laugh, slinging an arm around his shoulder. I feel like I’m floating. My smile’s so wide that my face feels sore as we move on to our next class.

—⧬⧭⧬—

The next class on the timetable is Geography. Our class president—a principled kind of guy called Koji Asano—gives the parents an impromptu guided tour, describing things as we move as one massive group to the classroom. Our teacher throws on a documentary about megacities that we mostly sit through in silence until the kids, who sit cross-legged on the floor beneath the projector, raise their hands to ask questions.

Miss Mino then tasks one of us with answering those questions, and that’s how the first forty-five minutes of the lesson go until Sirzechs enters alongside his mother and father. Sirzechs is wearing a black two-piece with a red tie, and his father does the same, except with reversed colours to complement his wife’s crimson, floor-length, figure-hugging dress.

“A-Ah! E-Everyone, this here is Mr Zeoticus Gremory, head of the Board of Trustees,” Miss Mino stammers, sitting up straight. “His daughter, Rias Gremory, is a third-year student, but she’s also gone through the Junior High School, too. He’s done a lot to facilitate the growth of all our students for nearly a decade now.”

“Thank you, Akiko,” Zeoticus says.

Miss Mino’s face turns scarlet at his smile.

“I’m not here as the head of the Board of Trustees,” he says, smiling at the class. “Merely a father. In fact, my son here is thinking of sending his son to Kuoh’s Junior High School, isn’t that right, Sirzechs?”

“Aye. My son and wife are with my sister, currently.”

One exceptionally brave girl with short black twintails raises her hand despite the room’s nervous undercurrent. Sirzechs kneels until he isn’t towering over her.

“...Why are you here then?”

He laughs. “Because I want to see as many classes as possible.”

“Oh.” She nods firmly. “I get it.”

“I’m Sirzechs.”

She wrinkles her nose. “That’s a strange name.”

“It is,” Sirzechs says, nodding along with her. “What’s your name?”

“Miwa Imai.”

He offers his hand and she shakes it.

“Nice to meet you, Miwa Imai.”

The girl smiles, but before she can say anything else, the chime signalling recess crackles through the tannoy. The room instantly fills with stirring. Chairs scrape against the floor, and zippers groan open and shut over the whisper of a dozen conversations.

Miss Mino raises her voice over the noise until it falls quiet. “For students whose parents or family are in attendance, you may head to the canteen for refreshments! For everyone else, go to recess as per usual!”

I follow the general throng towards the door, linking up with Asia and Issei’s parents as we head toward the canteen. I look around for Motohama and Matsuda, but can’t seem to find them. Chances are I’ll meet them at the canteen, though.

The third-years and first-years are inside. Rias sits at a circular table, surrounded by boys and girls alike. Like everyone else, she looks to the door as we enter. Her face goes slack with surprise.

“Father, M-Mother!”

Zeoticus chuckles with an arm around his wife. “Surprise.”

Rias rushes up to us as the other families break into small huddles, and children finally get to talk with their parents outside of pressured classrooms.

“I-I didn’t think you’d come,” she says, hands behind her back and her eyes pinned firmly at her feet. “Especially given…”

She trails off, but it’s easy to guess what she’s talking about. The last time Rias and her parents spoke, they had a massive argument that I didn’t see because of my conversation with Sirzechs. But given how loud it was getting, and Rias’ refusal to go home to her family after we were finished celebrating, I assumed it didn’t go well.

“You’re our daughter, Rias,” Venelana says, smiling. “And I wasn’t without fault in how our conversation went. But, maybe sometime soon, we’ll try again—properly this time?”

Rias grins. “I’d be happy to.”

We’re a huddle of our own at this point that’s somehow moved over towards the shuttered shelves where the cold snacks are kept.

“In other news… I’ve discovered something interesting about my sister and your son, Mr and Mrs Hyoudou,” Sirzechs says, smiling. “I’ve heard some interesting news about Issei and Rias. I hear they’re dating.”

Issei’s parents share a knowing glance. His mother laughs behind her hand.

“Rias hasn’t told you?” she says. “We’ve known for a little while now, but I suppose she’d be nervous breaking the news to her parents.”

Zeoticus looks at his wife and then at me. His lips twitch. “...Is that so?”

I turn to Rias. She can’t even bear to look me in the eye, and her face is almost the same shade as her crimson hair. I can’t even bring myself to say anything because this is one lie that’s spun way out of control. My parents falling for it is one thing, but Rias’ parents? And what am I meant to do? Set the record straight in front of my parents?

I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose, glancing around the room till I find Asia near the windows with Motohama, Matsuda, and some girls from our class. She always seems put out whenever the topic of Rias and I’s relationship comes to light—despite knowing it’s not real—so I’m glad Matsuda and Motohama managed to steal her on the way here.

She looks over at me and waves.

The conversation between Issei and Rias’ parents continues.

“Would you like to meet my grandson, Millicas, Mr Hyoudou?”

“Can I? It’d be good to deepen our ties, but I don’t have any children in the third year. Can I still visit?”

“Bring Issei. I’m sure an exception can be made. And call me Zeoticus, Mr Hyoudou.”

“You hear that, Miki? This sure is amazing! And call me Gorou, Zeoticus.”

Sirzechs merely smiles through all of this, gesturing his mother towards Issei’s as he watches over their conversation. Just like Issei’s father and Zeoticus, they got on like a house on fire, forgetting the three of us as they follow the throng of parents and children back towards the school building.

“Asia,” Issei’s mother asks. “Do you want to come with us to Rias’ class?”

“Oh! I can’t,” she says, bowing apologetically. “I’ve got to prepare with the Kendo Club.”

“Ah, yes! The demonstration… oh, I can’t wait!”

Venelana blinks. She and Issei’s mother are linking arms. “A demonstration?”

“There’ll be various demonstrations from some of the school’s clubs in an hour.”

“What club is Asia a part of?”

Asia smiles. “The Kendo Club, ma’am.”

“Kendo? I didn’t take you for the type,” Venelana says. “But I’ll look forward to it.”

She barely manages to mention her thanks before Katase and Kaori march down the hall and grab her by either arm.

“Nice to meet you, Mrs Hyoudou, but we’ll be taking Asia now.”

Issei’s mother laughs. “Don’t let us get in the way. Good luck!”

Somehow, they manage to exit the packed hallway in record time while we wait for the various second-years to trudge into their rooms. Right in front of us, a short woman dressed in all pink tries and fails to squeeze between two second-year boys, who stand red-faced and very uncomfortable.

“...Serafall?” Venelana says.

The woman freezes and backs out of the tight spot she’s wedged herself into, and I blink at the strange instrument in her hand. The hat on her head falls at our feet, so she bends over to pick it up.

…Only her skirt is so short that the two boys behind her go from red-faced to crimson.

“There we go!” She pushes her long twintails back and grins. “Hello, Mrs Gremory!”

“You’re here for Sona, I presume?”

She nods. “I can’t wait to see my little sister all studious in her little office!”

I stand there, taken aback that this is how I’d meet one of the three Satans I’m yet to meet. She’s dressed like a girl from one of those games Issei had.

“And you’re Issei Hyoudou… I’ve heard a lot about you from Sirzechs,” Serafall says, looking me up and down with her hands on her hips. Then she looks past me, “Nice to meet you, Mrs Hyoudou!”

Issei’s mother smiles. “...N-Nice to meet you too.”

By then, the corridor is clear enough that she gives us a two-fingered salute and rushes down it fast enough that her skirt is practically useless. Boys stand in the classroom thresholds to look at her retreating figure, much to Venelana’s amusement as Sirzechs, Zeoticus, Rias, and Issei’s father catch up to us.

“That was Serafall, I assume?” Sirzechs says, laughing.

Rias finally meets my eyes, only for her face to flush again.

Zeoticus walks in front of us and gestures down the corridor. “Shall we? The other parents should be arriving soon.”

Rias’ class seems to be sociology. Most of the children sitting at the front of the class seem dazed, which is understandable. All except Millicas, anyway, who’s in the middle of answering a question from an impressed-looking teacher when we walk in.

“Very well explained, Millicas. I think everyone here could take a page out of your book.” The teacher leans back, nodding. He notices Sirzechs and stands. “Your son is a credit to you, Mr Sirzechs, Miss Grayfia.”

Millicas beams, clearly proud of the praise. He runs right into Sirzechs’ embrace.

“That’s my boy,” he says, ruffling his hair.

I only notice Grayfia because of Rias’ teacher. Honestly, she’s almost unrecognisable outside her usual maid outfit. Her dark blue dress fits her perfectly. The third-year boys seated nearby can’t keep their eyes off her, stealing glances and shooting envious glares at Sirzechs.

Of course, their eyes also follow Venelana as she moves towards Grayfia. The usual stares saved for Rias and Akeno go straight to these two. Nobody so much as looks at Rias as she sits down. The class starts to mingle once the teacher turns off the lights and throws a series of discussion-based questions on the board using a projector.

Issei’s parents are standing around Millicas, who seems perfectly happy with their attention. I sit down as far away from the bustle as possible and close my eyes. It’s barely even lunchtime, but I’m absolutely exhausted.

I barely have a moment to catch my breath when Akeno slides her chair right next to mine. I know it’s her before I even open my eyes because of her scent, making my pulse spike.

“Long day already, hm?” she murmurs. Her fingers brush against my arm, deliberately slow. “You look like you could use a little… distraction.”

I glance around, half-expecting someone to notice, but the room is too caught up in its own happenings. My pulse roars in my ear like thunder as she lets her warmth press into and mix with mine. This isn’t the first time she’s done this, either. The first time she came over to my house, she used any opportunity she could to drive me up the wall.

Messing with my legs during dinner, leaning in to reach for salad, accidentally sitting on me in the living room, or bumping into me in the corridor. Worst of all was Asia’s envy as a result of Akeno and her ploys.

“Not afraid of a little attention, are you?” Her purple eyes are filled with amusement and promise me mischief. “Don’t worry. I’ll give you all of my attention, Issei.”

I shift, trying to maintain some semblance of composure. She hikes up her skirt and brushes her bare leg against mine. I nearly choke. It’s maddening, distracting, and entirely what I’d expect of Akeno. The worst part is I know it’s genuine. She was straightforward about her feelings for me, and while she said she’d wait… she never promised that she wouldn’t try her luck.

I take a deep breath, but the combination of exhaustion, the packed classroom, and her intentional closeness is a lot to handle.

“...Can we answer some of those questions, please?” I mutter, half-laughing.

She tilts her head. “We could, but it’s much more fun this way.”

Before I can brace myself, Akeno shifts, sliding her chair back just slightly. She rises, then, without a word, perches herself directly on my lap as if I’m nothing more than a seat. Her long ponytail tickles my nose.

“A-Akeno… aren’t you… afraid someone might—” I stammer, voice cracking slightly. “—see? Or… get the wrong idea?”

She turns as if she’s been waiting for me to say exactly that. “Oh? And what would that matter? Being branded as… scandalous can be… thrilling, don’t you think?”

I feel my face go hot, heart hammering. “Thrilling? A-Akeno, we’re in a classroom full of people! Even if no one’s looking now, someone could—”

“Then let’s just hope they don’t.”

I swallow hard, caught between trying to protest and being utterly distracted by her. The slightest of movements from either of us scatters my thoughts, but even then, I realise a terrifying thing about Akeno.

She’s enjoying my discomfort more than any normal person should.

“Y-You really don’t care… at all?”

Her laugh is soft, teasing. “Care? Only that you’re enjoying this so much,” she says, letting her weight settle just a little more firmly because she starts rocking back and forth.

I splutter through a mouthful of hair. A long chime crackles through the tannoy above us.

“Attention, attention, this is a staff announcement: will everyone please make their way to the auditorium, where the school clubs will be holding their demonstrations. I repeat…”

Akeno slides off me with the grace of a cat, fixing her skirt. Her gaze falls onto my lap and flicks up my body in a manner that feels a step shy of violation.

“...Saved by the bell. Isn’t that a shame? Of course, there’s always after school. You know where to find me, Issei.”

She walks away, leaving my heart racing and my back slick with sweat. I close my eyes.

“Issei! What are you doing? We’ll miss Asia’s thing at this rate!”

I flinch and sit up. The classroom’s empty. Issei’s parents are standing over me, equally amused and irritated.

“S-Sorry,” I say, jumping to my feet.

“Come on,” Issei’s father says, walking to the door. “Zeoticus said he’d save us the best seats.”

—⧬⧭⧬—

The auditorium hums with restless noise by the time we arrive. Parents and kids pack the tiered seats, the chatter bouncing off the high ceiling until it’s swallowed by the microphone crackle of a student announcer. The first demonstration kicks off with a twenty-minute game.

On our end, we have Matsuda, alongside four others, presumably from the Basketball Club. It’s clear enough that they’re holding back, but a few kids manage to score shots that get the whole crowd cheering. The school team does ease up towards the end, though not before Matsuda sinks one last shot from half-court just as the buzzer sounds. 

High schoolers and middle schoolers alike bow to the crowd’s thunderous applause.

Issei’s mother leans in. “I didn’t know Matsuda was that skilled!”

“The school’s clubs are always fighting over him,” I yell over the roaring. “He’s set some national records in middle school, apparently.”

From there, the floor belongs to the other clubs. The Gardening Club parades out bonsai plants with rehearsed bows. The Drama Club does a short skit, and a few more clubs cycle through, each given time to shine.

The Kendo Club takes the floor last, wheeling in rows of polished practice swords beneath the lights as the team members bow in unison.

“There’s Asia!” Issei’s father readies his video camera. “She has her hair up, see?”

Issei’s mother gasps. “Doesn’t she look lovely, Issei?”

Since she’s the head of the Kendo Club, Katase runs through some information before the sparring begins. Katase spars with Kaori first, followed by Murayama going up against a girl I don’t recognise.

The crowd gasps when Kaori lands a clean blow on Katase, only for Katase to answer with a flurry that ends the match decisively. Murayama’s bout is slower paced, and when she wins, the Kendo Club bows once more.

The audience settles into polite applause, expecting the end.

“I can always appreciate well-honed swordsmanship,” Zeoticus says to Issei’s father.

Sirzechs smiles. “I have a friend called Souji who’d enjoy watching this.”

“Well, there’s always next year, right?” Issei’s mother says.

“You’re not wrong.”

The demonstration wraps up, and everyone exits the auditorium through one of the four exits. We descend the stairs, or well, I do, anyway. Issei’s mother flies down the decline and wraps Asia in her arms.

“Oh, you were amazing!” she says as Asia pats her back.

Katase sidles up to me. “...Who’s with your parents?”

“Hm?” I glance at Zeoticus and Venelana, who stand aside with Issei’s father. “Oh. Rias Gremory’s parents.”

“...Wait, you guys are actually dating?”

I don’t really know what to say to that. Nor do I really say anything beyond opening my mouth. Katase grimaces, running a hand through her sweaty pink hair.

“...Oh, man,” she says, sighing. “And here I thought my woeful single status would be changing.”

“I’m… sorry?” I say, awkwardly patting her shoulder.

Katase giggles. “It’s alright. Are you happy?”

It’s… a question. Not one I’ve thought about these past few months. I’ve been busy, for the most part. Either training, fulfilling strange requests, or otherwise being swept up in greater schemes.

“...Yeah.” I smile. “I’d say so, yeah.”

“That’s great.”

We stand there, side by side, watching the auditorium slowly empty in a strangely companionable silence. Once the only people left are Issei’s parents, Rias’ parents, and the rest of us, Asia looks around.

“S-S-Sorry, everyone… we’ve still got one more match to show you. It’s a special one,” she says, looking around. “I-Issei, would you like to spar me?”

“...Wait, what?”

To my left, Venelana laughs lightly behind her hand. “Oh, how delightful!”

“Go on, son.” Issei’s father nudges me with a grin far too wide for my comfort. “This is past the point of no return.”

Katase nudges me. “It’ll be fun! You’ll make her so happy.”

“Fun?” I hiss once Rias, Akeno, Koneko, and Yuuto turn to me with obvious amusement plastered across their faces. “What fun?”

Ddraig’s laugh roars through my head. “So this is what the girl meant by a surprise!”

Even you, Ddraig?

He responds with even more laughter. Sighing, I stand at one end of the mat while everyone takes the closest seats to the mat. Katase walks up to me with protective gear that she starts strapping on immediately.

“You couldn’t have warned me?” I ask.

She laughs. “Then it wouldn’t really be a surprise, would it? Besides, we know you’ve got some level of skill. How you learned swordplay is another question entirely.”

I pick up my helmet and take the offered wooden sword. Asia’s standing at the ready, green eyes aglow with an almost fervent level of determination.

Katase raises her hand. “Begin!”

The clap of bamboo slams into my guard, sharp enough to rattle my wrists. She presses, light on her feet, darting left then right. I backpedal two steps, more out of surprise at the precision than because of any real pressure. She’s better than I thought. Much better. Her sword whistles down. I catch it clean and shove her back.

Issei’s mother gasps. I move in and snap a thrust to her chest.

“Point, Issei!” Katase calls.

Asia resets quickly, bowing once before raising her weapon again. Her stance is tighter this time.

“Begin!”

Our blades meet with a crack that echoes across the mostly empty auditorium. She pushes with surprising strength. Her sword slides down mine before she redirects and lands a strike against my ribs.

“Point, Asia!”

Everyone’s cheers seem to shake the floor. My heart thumps. Asia actually scored on me. She’s been watching those morning spars more intensely than I realised. When Katase drops her hand again, I move. Asia raises her guard, but my strike comes from below, snapping against her wrist just enough to throw her balance. The next hit lands square across her chest protector.

“Point, Issei! Winner!”

Asia wrenches her helmet off. Her face is slick with sweat. The previously neat bun stands askew, and rogue strands cling to her forehead. She lowers her weapon, chest rising and falling, then bows deeply.

I bow back, and when we straighten, her smile is a miniature sun.

When did she get this good?!

Ddraig chuckles. “That girl’s a natural.”

And I can’t even deny it. Katase walks between us, grinning, and following her example, we bow to the audience.

“A surprise, huh?” I say, turning to Asia as the crowd roars.

She looks away, blushing. “I-I hope you liked it!”

I look up at my section in the crowd, where Issei’s father is hollering down at us with a massive grin on his face. I wasn’t expecting a surprise like this today, but it was definitely a pleasant one.

Chapter Text

Chapter 13: The Company We Keep

Open Day comes to a close after lunch. The visiting families seem to have taken everyone’s energy with them, which is why the teachers largely leave everyone to their own devices for the rest of the day, as long as we don’t leave the school grounds. Miss Isobe threw up a film that only half the class paid attention to, while the other half were split between using their phones and napping.

After a month of peace, I think I’ve settled into life here in this new world. The lack of danger beasts or fear of the seasonal elements is definitely an upgrade. And education is free. Back in my old world, you either learned a trade or learned to fight. Having trained under a retired soldier myself, I was set to join the Imperial Guard before I accidentally discovered the Empire’s corruption and became an assassin instead.

And here I am, attending a fancy school like some noble. Sometimes, I remember that I’m living over again, stunned at all the changes despite Issei’s lingering memories painting over my awkwardness with false familiarity. Eventually,  the school bell’s toll rings down the hallways, and save for the few clubs that hadn’t run their demonstrations earlier in the day, most people trudge home out the front gate. 

I head to the Occult Research Club’s building. Yuuto and Koneko already beat me there. They look about as exhausted as I feel, so it’s a small mercy that besides the mumbled greetings shared between us, neither of them disturbs the tired silence.

Akeno and Rias arrive, though. The latter takes her seat in the armchair behind her desk, while Akeno decides that the best place to sit is next to me, pushing Yuuto and me into the corners of the couch when there’s an entire free seat next to Koneko. I’m so done with the day that I can’t be bothered to move her head off my shoulder, but the lack of any reaction does the job for me.

So, she gets up, smoothing out her skirt. “I’ll make some tea to wake everyone up.”

“Thank you, Akeno,” Rias says, sighing deeply.

The kettle’s crackles rumble in from the kitchen. Koneko’s snoring reaches my ears, and when Akeno returns with a tray piled with expensive-looking teacups, she sips her tea slowly, eyes still closed. Rias leans back in her chair, stretching her arms overhead before letting them drop.

The dark smudges on her face paint the exact opposite picture of alertness, but I’m in no position to point fingers.

“You’ve all done more than enough today,” she says finally. “So I’m calling it here. No contracts tonight. I think surviving my parents, older brother, and Serafall warrants some kind of reward.”

I swallow thickly at the mention of Sona Sitri’s older sister. Between the two, you’d think the school council president was the older sister. The photoshoot in the canteen was up there next to the strangest things I’ve seen in this life. The good news perks Koneko up a little, and Yuuto lets out something close to a sigh of relief.

I’ll be honest, it’s not like I was looking forward to fulfilling half a dozen strange requests tonight.

Rias looks around, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “Actually, I was thinking of taking us all out on a day trip this weekend.”

I blink. “A day trip? Where?”

“Tokyo.”

Koneko hunches over, staring at Rias without blinking. “Akihabara Electric Town?”

“Akihabara Electric Town,” Rias replies, her smile widening. “I’ve bought the train tickets. We’ll spend the day together, relax, and then come back by sunset for contracts.”

Akeno hums, setting her teacup down with a soft clink. “Shopping, perhaps? A meal together? It does sound lovely.”

“Where’s Asia?” Rias asks, looking around as if the thought just occurred to her. “The Kendo Club isn’t running today.”

“She’s at work,” I say.

She takes a deep breath. “Oh, I forgot about that! How is it going for her?”

I tilt my head. “She seems to like it, which is all that matters, I guess. Says it’ll look good on her record or something.”

“She’s going to open a clinic of her own for everyone, after all,” Rias replies with a smile. “Ordinary humans, devils, angels—for anyone really. It’s quite the dream.”

I smile.

“Well, make sure to tell her about the trip. We’ll be meeting up at the station at nine o’clock tomorrow.”

Akeno and Rias stay behind to process today’s contracts and inform all the contractors about the change in plans. Koneko, Yuuto, and I head off home, splitting off in different directions at the school gate.

I’m halfway to the front door when it opens, and Issei’s mother steps out with a plastic bag in her hands.

“Oh, good! You can take it to her,” she says, standing in the doorway.

I stop at the door. “Do what now?”

“Asia forgot her dinner.” She raises the plastic back and gives it a little shake. “I was going to take it to her, but since you’re here, you can do it.”

“I just got back,” I say, pointing at the half-open front gate. “Why don’t you take it?”

Her adamant glare alone is enough for me to tell this is a losing battle. So, I shrug off my backpack and hold it out to her.

“Here. Give me the food.”

“Thank you, Issei!” she says as I turn to walk away.

I sigh, unable to stay irritated for long, and close the front gate behind me.

—⧬⧭⧬—

Aoba Clinic isn’t a long walk from my house; fifteen minutes at most. The front windows are still lit when I arrive. I push the door open with a free hand, the little bell above it jingling. The warmth of herbal tea washes over me as I close the door. The waiting room is empty, but the lights are on at the reception desk. A girl about my age, with her brown hair tied back in a messy bun, is slumped over the counter with her cheek resting on an open textbook.

She jerks upright when the bell finishes ringing.

“Oh! Welcome to Aoba Clinic! How can I help you?”

I hold up the plastic bag. “I’m a friend of Asia’s. She forgot her dinner.”

Her expression softens. “That’s so sweet. She’s in the back, I’ll call her.”

She disappears through the door behind the counter, and a moment later, Asia emerges in her work apron, wiping her hands on a towel. Her eyes brighten when she sees me.

“I-Issei! You didn’t need to bring it all the way here.”

“Tell my mother that,” I reply, handing over the bag. “She shoved it into my arms and sent me here before I could even enter the house.”

Asia’s cheeks colour faintly. She peeks inside the bag, lips curving up. “...Thank you. I was just thinking about what to eat later.”

“No worries.” I shrug and smile. “How’s work?”

“Really good! Things have been slow for the most part. Checking blood pressure, small massages, preparing tea, and whatnot.”

Her coworker leans out from the back, smirking. “Don’t forget you’re the star attraction, Asia. There’s this one guy who’s been coming in almost every day just to see her! There’s not even anything wrong with him besides a crippling longing for our angel here.”

“D-Don’t tease me like that!” Asia’s face flushes red, and she waves her hands frantically. “He’s just grateful because I helped him!”

“Grateful, sure. Let’s call it that,” the coworker says, propping her chin on her hand. “Cute, though. A little on the creepy side, but cute.”

Asia puffs her cheeks, clearly more embarrassed than angry. “He’s just… very earnest, that’s all. Nothing strange. I think he’s kind of sweet, actually.”

“Mm-hm.” The coworker grins at me. “See? She’s too nice to notice. I’m Shika Yonamine, by the way.”

“Issei Hyoud—”

“Issei Hyoudou, right?” Shika says, grinning. “I figured. Asia talks a lot about you.”

The two of us make eye contact and break out into laughter. Asia hides her face in her hands but recovers quickly, setting the bag on the counter. Shika vanishes into the back room, leaving the two of us alone.

“...Is there anything else?” Asia asks, smiling. “I’d hate to keep you here longer than you need to.”

“Oh yeah, there’s a trip,” I say, blinking. “Rias’ idea. She wants everyone to go to Tokyo on Saturday. Bought the tickets and everything.”

“Saturday? Her lips part, then she lowers her gaze. “I… can’t. There’s no one to cover my shift.”

I scratch my cheek, not knowing what to say.

She forces a small smile. “But there’ll be more, right?”

“Of course,” I say. “You should’ve seen Koneko’s face when she heard Akihabara Electric Town. No way this is the only trip.”

Asia laughs. “Okay. When you go, can you bring me back a souvenir?”

“Anything specific?”

“Make it a surprise.”

I nod. “Consider it done.”

The clinic doorbell chimes, and in walks a boy about our age. His blond hair is neat and looks expensively maintained, the same as his three-piece white suit. I can barely see his eyes, and despite his harmless posture and ever-present smile, the lack of a way to gauge his emotions puts me off.

“Asia!” he says, raising a hand in greeting as his smile widens.

“This one’s a devil,” Ddraig says between my ears.

I frown.

Asia leans over the counter. “Hello, Diodora! How’ve you been?”

“Better now that I’ve seen you,” he replies, walking up beside me.

She flushes, green eyes darting between me and him before taking a look over her shoulder to see whether her colleague is here.

“D-Do you remember when I said I was excommunicated for healing a devil?” Asia asks. I nod. “...This is the devil.” Before I so much as look at Diodora, she hurries to add: “D-Don’t worry! It wasn’t his fault.”

Diodora sighs. “The Church has been known for its… corruptions, I suppose. Even to this day, I regret that sweet Asia here suffered for the act of being a good person.”

“It’s fine, Diodora,” Asia says. Her smile is glass. “I like my life now. Besides, it can’t be undone.”

“And so I offer you my companionship,” he says. “How’s work been these past few days? I’ve been held up with work of my own.”

As the two continue talking, I watch Diodora out of my peripheral vision. He seems pleasant enough and pays attention to every one of Asia’s words. But it’s clear to me that he’s interested in her beyond just friendship. Shika was right, then.

“And this must be Issei Hyoudou,” he says suddenly, turning to face me. “The Red… Dragon Emperor.”

Diodora opens his eyes completely and extends a hand to me. They’re a deeper shade of gold than his hair.

I shake his hand once, pulling away. “And you are? I didn’t catch your name earlier.”

“Diodora Astaroth.” His smile twitches slightly. I can’t tell whether he seems amused, though.

Isn’t that a Pillar house? …Then again, if he’s in Kuoh without any pushback from Rias or anyone else, and has been doing so regularly, maybe he’s okay? In the end, I go home, and he falls into the recesses of my mind.

My knocks on the door go unanswered, so I pull my keys out of my pocket and let myself in. Looking down at the welcome mat, there are five more pairs of shoes than usual. I add my pair to the row along the wall and walk towards the living room.

I close the door behind me and pause to take in the scene. There’s a bit more liveliness tonight, and many more voices than I’m used to. I hear laughter, the occasional snort of amusement, and the clink of glasses. Reaching the living room doorway, the place is jam-packed. Zeoticus and Venelana are here, along with Sirzechs, Grayfia, and Millicas.

Everyone but Millicas is deep in conversation, so he’s the first one to notice me.

“Issei!”

Issei’s mother follows his gaze. “What took you so long?” She pushes herself up from the couch, her hand fluttering in the air to beckon me. “I thought you’d be back quickly with how you were dragging your feet.”

“I was meeting Asia’s co-workers,” I say. “Are we all eating?”

She nods, and I move out of the way as everyone follows her out. There’s a small part of me still getting used to the idea of hosting the Gremory family here. The air of nobility that seems to cling to them is… foreign to me, honestly.

Dinner is pleasant enough, with the conversation mostly drifting over my head—not just mine, but Millicas’ too, judging by how quickly he finished his food.

“Issei! Can I see your room?” he asks as soon as I’m done.

I glance around at the group, trying to gauge what my answer should be, but it’s hard to deny the little guy, especially when he’s practically vibrating with excitement. “My room?”

“Yes!” Millicas insists. “I wanna see your video games!”

“You’ve got video games in the underworld?” I whisper mostly to myself. “Alright, but only for a little bit, okay?”

Once we’re there, Millicas wastes no time, already fiddling with the game console before I’m seated. His excitement is infectious, and despite my own exhaustion, I find myself smiling as we dive into a racing game. Video games are a strange invention, but despite a few of the perverted titles Issei owns, a lot of his games were fun, which is the main reason I didn’t throw them out.

The game’s digital cars whiz around the track as Millicas stifles his laughter every time he overtakes me. I do my best to keep up, but I’m just not as good as him.

“Ha! I beat you again!” Millicas holds up his controller in victory.

“I think you’re cheating.”

“No, I’m not! You’re just bad!”

After a few rounds of racing, Millicas grows bored and insists we switch to a fighting game. It’s a bit more competitive. Maybe this is where my talents lie after all. We’re in the middle of a particularly intense match when the sounds of footsteps down the hall reach us, talk melting into the shuffle of shoes being gathered.

Millicas, still holding his controller, looks a little disappointed as the sounds reach us.

“They’re leaving already?” he asks.

I glance at the clock. “How long have you been here?”

“Since a little after the end of the school day.”

“You’ll have to come back for round two next time, alright?”

Millicas looks up at me. “You promise?”

“Promise,” I say, ruffling his hair gently.

“Okay. We’ll decide who’s the better Street Fighter player when we next meet.”

I snort. “It’ll probably be you.”

We find Sirzechs standing near the door, talking quietly with Issei’s father, while the rest of the group begins to filter out.

“Goodnight, Issei! It was nice meeting you properly at last,” Venelana calls, her voice cheerful. “We’re going to visit Rias now. I’m sure her club duties are over now.”

I watch as the group makes their exit, Sirzechs pausing at the door for one last glance as Issei’s parents lead the Gremory out the front gate.

“...Aren’t you going to follow them?” I ask, slightly awkwardly, because it’s the same as telling him to get lost.

Sirzechs laughs. “The rest are going to sleep at Rias’ apartment, but I’ll be sharing your room, if you don’t mind.”

“You aren’t going back to the underworld?” I ask him.

“None of us are. Grayfia and Millicas are going to stay with Rias, along with my parents. Then, tomorrow, my parents, Millicas, and your parents are going on an outing.”

“An outing?” I frown. “So are we.”

“We?”

“We’re going to Tokyo.”

He smiles. “Ah. Yes, Rias regularly takes the train there for trips. It’s the first one you’ll be going on, right? I hope you have fun!”

The sudden flow of information comes too fast for me to say anything, much less gather my thoughts.

“Don’t worry, I’ll sleep on the floor, alright?” Sirzechs says as Issei’s parents return down the front path.

Both walk past me, with Issei’s father turning into the kitchen once Issei’s mother walks past.

“Sirzechs,” Issei’s father whispers, his eyes darting towards the hallway. “Would you like a drink? We have some good Japanese liquor if you’d like to try some.”

“...They do say drinking is the best way to glimpse at a person’s true nature here in Japan, don’t they?” Sirzechs mumbles before patting the older man’s shoulders. “Of course! Let’s drink to our heart’s content!”

Issei’s father laughs, and the two men rush towards the living room, leaving me alone at the half-open front door. The front gate’s distant whine breaks my strange reverie as Asia stands at the footpath’s end.

Beyond the gate is a familiar head of blonde hair—Diodora Astaroth. He catches my gaze, leaving a lingering kiss atop Asia’s palm before waving at me. I give him a slow nod back while Asia waves him goodbye and vanishes from my eyeline.

“...What is it?” Asia asks once she reaches the front door.

I move aside. “Nothing. Sirzechs is sleeping over, by the way.”

“W-What!” She nearly stumbles through the door. “Why?”

I don’t answer, so after she takes off her shoes, by the sounds of Issei’s mother’s pleased squeal, Asia rushes straight to the living room to verify my words.

Sighing, I lean against the door frame and watch the sunset dye the sky a deep orange.

—⧬⧭⧬—

The house is mostly quiet once night falls. Issei’s parents went to bed a while ago, leaving the faint hum of the refrigerator filtering in through my bedroom door. My eyes fall to the occupied air mattress beside my bed. Sirzechs had insisted on taking it, no matter how many times I offered to switch. He lies on his back, hands folded neatly over his stomach, the faint rise and fall of his chest visible in the dim streetlight slipping through the curtains.

I sit cross-legged on the bed, running a hand through my hair.

“So… how are things going between you and Rias?” Sirzechs asks, sitting up. “It seems you two have been dating for months now.”

“O-Oh… we’re… not,” I say slowly, explaining to him just exactly how those rumours came about.

By the end of my story, Sirzechs has his head on a pillow, trying to stifle his laughter. “S-So, what? The two of you are now forced to commit to what was otherwise an excuse to come home late or not at all? Why not just use magic on your parents to make them more agreeable?”

“No,” I say, glaring at him through the darkness. “I won’t mess with their minds.”

He’s silent for a moment. “...I see. Apologies if I offended you, Issei. It was just a suggestion.”

“It’s… not alright, but I get it.”

“Besides, my dear sister thinks very highly of you. I’ve never seen her so happy, not even in the underworld. She must be enjoying every day here in the human realm, and I suspect we have you to thank for that.”

“It’s not just me,” I say. “There’s everyone else, too.”

“Please take good care of my sister for me.”

“I’ll do my best.”

Sirzechs hums. “Say, for the sake of your ruse, feel free to call me brother-in-law, alright? Like your parents, I’m afraid my parents have also bought into the idea of you and Rias as a couple.”

I slam my hand to my face. “...Great.”

“Is the idea of being with Rias that unpleasant?” he asks, laughing. “If it’s a matter of having feelings for another, you’ll find that we devils are more open with the idea of having multiple partners.”

“W-What? Even in marriage?”

“So, is that the reason, then?”

I blink. “No… no, it’s not. I’m just not in the state of mind for that kind of relationship.”

“Grayfia told me the same thing, but well… it was worth a try.” Sitting up, Sirzechs looks me straight in the eye. “You seem to have grown stronger since we last spoke.”

I glance down at him. “How strong would you say I am now?”

“Firmly at mid-class rank now.” He turns his head slightly to look up at me. “Impressive progress. Have you considered taking the promotion exam? Passing would make your status official. The combat portion would be no issue for you, I imagine, though…” His lips twitch into the faintest smile. “There’s also an academic side to it. You’ll need to memorise the seventy-two Pillar Houses, living and extinct.”

“Seventy-two, huh?” I rub the back of my neck. “I probably know a handful of them right now. It doesn’t sound like the easiest thing in the world, but I guess I could do it if I really tried… speaking of Pillar Houses, though, what’s the deal with Diodora Astaroth?”

Sirzechs frowns. “Diodora Astaroth? What of him?”

I hesitate for a moment. “He was at Aoba Clinic earlier. The place Asia works. She said he’s the one she healed; the devil who got her excommunicated.”

“She… healed him?” Sirzechs blinks, genuine confusion on his face.

“Yeah.” I study him closely. “You didn’t know?”

“I knew she was cast out for saving a devil, but I never looked into who it was. I assumed it was a stray who managed to escape to the human world,” he says, his brows furrowing, “Or some case of Church corruption, given their history, but Diodora…”

I shift uncomfortably, wondering if I’ve said too much. Sirzechs eventually exhales, closing his eyes briefly.

“Thanks for bringing this to my attention. I’ll look into it.” His voice carries an edge sharper than before. “It’s… suspicious. A low-class devil would be weak enough to avoid detection, but Diodora Astaroth is much more powerful. There’s no way he could have reached holy ground without being caught.”

He turns onto his side, the faintest whisper slipping past his lips, almost too quiet to hear. “I should contact Heaven… see if they knew about this.”

My ears prick up. “You’re going to contact Heaven?”

His eyes flicker open again. “…Only if it’s necessary. For now, don’t trouble yourself. Rest. Tomorrow will be busy, if what I’ve heard from my parents about Rias’ plans is to be believed.”

I fight a smile as I lie back. Sirzechs closes his eyes once more, though I doubt his thoughts are anywhere near sleep.

—⧬⧭⧬—

The train shudders as it slows, the brakes screeching faintly before the automated voice announces the station. The doors slide open, and cold air rushes in, thick with chatter, footsteps, and the faint tang of concrete baked in afternoon sun. We spill out with the crowd up the wide staircase and out to a concrete jungle that beats out Kuoh’s high street.

People weave past with the speed of fish darting through water, each carrying bags, briefcases, or smartphones pressed to their ears.

I stop for a moment, trying to take it all in. “...So this is Tokyo.”

“Amazing, right?” Rias says softly, her smile widening as she takes a deep breath.

Koneko stands stiff beside me, clutching her backpack straps. Her eyes flick from sign to sign, then to the moving crowd, before finally settling on Rias.

“Our first stop: Akihabara.”

The name alone transforms Koneko. Her shoulders straighten, and the corners of her lips twitch upward—not quite a smile, but more life than usual. “...Sacred ground.”

I arch a brow. “You’ve been before?”

She nods with a smile and starts walking ahead.

We follow, weaving through the swarm of commuters until the fluorescent chaos swallows us. Towering billboards blare with drawings, shops spill over with banners and displays, and music from competing arcades bleeds into the street.

“This place is insane,” I mutter.

“Don’t disparage this holy site,” Koneko insists again, her eyes already locked on the row of cafés ahead.

“Holy site?” I mutter, looking at Yuuto. “Is she talking about other supernatural beings?”

Yuuto chuckles under his breath. “...Oh, no. Koneko is what people call an otaku?”

“An otaku?”

Rias follows Koneko. “Come, everyone! She’s taking us somewhere.”

A bell jingles overhead as I follow the girls through the café door. I squint at the pink walls, heart-shaped chairs, and lace curtains tied back with ribbons.

“Welcome home, Masters and Mistresses!” a chorus of… maids cry in unison, bowing deeply. Their voices are so synchronised that it makes my teeth ache.

“...What is this place?”

Rias gasps softly, pressing her fingers to her lips. “I’ve never actually been to one of these!”

“Sacred tradition,” Koneko says flatly, sliding into the nearest booth.

Yuuto and I exchange a glance, equally helpless.

“What makes this any different from the maids at the Gremory house?” I ask.

Akeno giggles.

One of the maids glides over and places a laminated menu before Yuuto and me. “Here you are, Masters. What would you like today?”

“...Master?” I repeat, my voice strangled.

Across from me, Yuuto is receiving three times the attention from a crowd of blushing maids. He straightens in his seat like a soldier on inspection. “Thank you… very much, ladies?”

I don’t envy him in the slightest.

Akeno lets out a lilting laugh. “Oh, this is adorable.”

She raises her phone and aims it at Yuuto before doing the same to me.

I glare at her. “Delete that.”

“Never.”

Koneko’s order arrives: a stack of pancakes topped with a whipped-cream cat face. She clasps her hands neatly and mutters a prayer. Two of the maids clutch their aprons and stare at her.

“Oh, she’s the cutest!”

“Enjoy your food!”

Rias leans forward, studying the plate. “Is it customary for them to draw faces on food?”

“Yes,” Koneko says firmly.

I sink lower into my seat, wishing the booth would swallow me whole as the maid sets down my own order: curry rice with a ketchup heart drawn across the top.

“Please say, Moe Moe Kyun! to give it extra power, Master!” she chirps, clasping her hands together.

I stare at her, feeling my face warm. “...No.”

“Yes,” Akeno says immediately, eyes gleaming. “Go on. You wouldn’t want to upset this establishment’s hard workers, would you?”

Yuuto snorts, though he tries to hide it with a cough. I pinch the bridge of my nose and force the cursed words out under my breath.

The maid beams, satisfied, and scurries off. Akeno lowers her phone.

“Did you take a video?” I ask, and when her smile widens, I reach over. “Delete. That.”

“Absolutely not,” she sings.

Koneko takes another bite of pancake as everyone else’s orders arrive. Frankly, I’m looking forward to leaving this place.

—⧬⧭⧬—

After that torture disguised as breakfast, we wander around for a little while until Koneko finds another building she likes. We follow after her as ducklings would their mother. The shop’s automatic doors part for us, revealing a labyrinthine building. Rows upon rows of shelves are stacked high with books, figurines, DVDs, and strange wall scrolls.

Bright-eyed characters grin down at us from posters, some heroic, some… less clothed. Rias slows as she enters, her gaze drawn upward to a display of oversized art books, their glossy covers catching the light.

She reaches for one. “These illustrations…” she murmurs, flipping open a page. “The composition… wow.”

“Impressive.” Yuuto steps closer, peering over her shoulder.

“Where’s Koneko?” I ask.

She reappears, hugging something almost as tall as she is: a body pillow wrapped in plastic, the cover printed with a black-gold metal monstrosity. It… It reminds me of Shikoutazer. She stands there silently, clutching it to her chest.

I stare. “...That’s a robot.”

Koneko fixes me with a flat look. “Mech.”

Yuuto blinks, caught off guard. “They make pillows of those?”

“They make pillows of everything,” I mutter, remembering Issei Hyoudou’s… wares. “Trust me.”

Koneko squeezes the pillow tighter, her small arms barely wrapping around its width.

Akeno’s laugh is soft, wicked. She lifts her phone. “Koneko, you look adorable. Come closer, please.”

“...This is mine. It’s not for you.” Koneko shifts the pillow to her other side, shielding it from the camera’s view.

Rias finally pulls herself away from the art books, curiosity piqued by the standoff. “Koneko, do you actually intend to buy that?”

“Yes.”

Rias blinks, lips parting as if to argue, then thinks better of it. “...Very well.”

Looking satisfied—though her face doesn’t change a bit—Koneko turns on her heel and drifts deeper into the store. Rows of figurines stand at attention behind glass walls.

I drift toward another display case: rows of figurines encased in glass. Knights, mages, monsters, each painted with impossible detail.

I crouch down, eyeing one of the swordsman mid-strike.

“These things must take forever to make,” I say. “They remind me of wood carvings, you know?”

Yuuto crouches down beside me. “The craftsmanship is… respectable. The balance looks good, even if it’s only decorative.”

“Are you seriously judging toys like you’d judge your sword?”

He shrugs. “Tools, art, it’s all design. The principles carry over.”

Koneko leans forward, nose almost brushing the glass. Her eyes widen. For once, she actually looks like a child. The sight takes me aback for a moment.

“That one,” she says, pointing to a towering machine with a drill for an arm.

Yuuto tilts his head. “It looks terribly impractical.”

“It’s perfect.”

I don’t have the heart to say anything. It helps that with her ridiculous strength, she’ll have no problem carrying her stuff.

Akeno floats between shelves of scandalous books that I stay well away from. Behind us, Rias is still absorbed in her book, flipping slowly, eyes shining with genuine appreciation. Koneko passes Yuuto her body pillow. I come back with a basket, and she promptly snatches the body pillow out of his hands and drops her things inside.

She walks deeper into the shop without so much as a glance back at us. Yuuto and I share a look and follow her.

—⧬⧭⧬—

An entire hour later, we finally leave, with all of our shopping, and head to an arcade. Thankfully, Koneko didn’t want anything else besides the figurine and the body pillow. Rias bought the initial art book she took a look through, while Akeno picked up three new books whose covers branded themselves firmly into my head.

Lights flash from every corner: neon arrows, glowing marquees, animated mascots dancing above the machines.

Koneko closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. A small smile lifts her lips. She heads straight for the row of fighting game cabinets and slides into a seat, her expression sharpening in a way I’ve only ever seen in battle.

I crack my knuckles, settling opposite her. “Finally, something I’ve actually practised. I might not be great, but I’ve fought Millicas enough to say I’m decent. Let’s go.”

Two rounds later, my digital character is sprawled flat on the screen while Koneko’s fighter barely has a scratch.

I slam another coin into the slot, jaw set. “Best of three.”

It ends the same way. Then again. And again. By the fifth consecutive loss, I have to talk myself down from snapping the joystick. Koneko leans around the machine with amusement in her eyes despite the lack of any expression on her face.

“You’re hopeless,” she says.

I slump over the screen. “I’m fighting a monster.”

Looking around, the only one left is Akeno. Yuuto and Rias have long since disappeared to try the other games.

“Finally… a worthy opponent,” Koneko says once Akeno slides into the chair.

The arcade’s thumping music makes the floor tremble.

Akeno’s lips twitch with amusement. She stifles a laugh. “...Our battle will be legendary.”

I walk away, looking for something else. Further down the row, Rias stands hunched over some kind of… crane game. A giant plush rabbit leans against the glass, its oversized ears drooping. She places a coin in the slot, studying the claw as though preparing for a delicate ritual.

The claw descends, grips the rabbit’s ear, then slips, dropping it back onto the pile.

Rias blinks. “...Unacceptable.”

Another coin clinks into the machine. The claw grabs the plush squarely by the head, lifting it triumphantly into the air… only to release it halfway and send it tumbling.

“I can do this.” Her eyebrows knit together.

By the time I reach her, there’s a small stack of receipts from the coin exchange machine at her feet. The rabbit still hasn’t moved.

“You know, you could just buy one from a shop instead,” I say.

Rias turns her fierce gaze on me, despite the embarrassed flush creeping up her cheeks. “That would defeat the purpose. I’d have to admit that I was bested by a—a claw machine!”

I raise my hands in surrender. “Good luck.”

On the far side of the arcade, Yuuto seems to have discovered some kind of dancing game. He steps onto the glowing platform, studying the arrows scrolling up the screen.

“This looks… familiar,” he murmurs.

“Familiar how?”

“It’s footwork. Precision drills, set to music.” He nods toward the display.  “Want to give it a go?”

“Fine.” I hop onto the opposite platform, feeding coins into the slot. “Start it up.”

The music starts—fast, pounding. Arrows stream upward like a barrage. I stomp left, right, forward, back, muscles remembering half-forgotten practice drills as I fall into a mirror. The arrows blur.

Yuuto glances over, and for the first time, an elated grin flashes across his face. We finish in near unison, to surprising applause from the people around us.

“Well fought, Issei,” Yuuto says.

I smile. By the time we regroup, Rias is triumphant, clutching a rabbit plush nearly as big as she is. Koneko has tucked her winnings—a small mountain of arcade tokens and prize tickets—neatly into her bag to exchange for items on our way out.

“So,” I say to Akeno. “Did you beat her?”

Irritation flashes across her face. “...No. The final score was 7-6 to Koneko. She’s still our resident champion.”

“...Better luck next time,” Rias says, adjusting her grip on the rabbit. “Shall we find lunch?”

“Yes,” Koneko says instantly.

I shrug. “I could eat.”

We step back into the bustling street. Noise hits us from every direction. Lanterns sway overhead on power lines. Somewhere, someone laughs louder than the constant din of passing vehicles, as we descend the staircase to the subway.

Fifteen minutes later, the train roars down the tunnel and takes the last cool drafts with it. The throng of ex-passengers—which we’re a part of—trudge towards the exit and hug the escalator’s left side. Now and then, people rush up the middle of the moving staircase, but they’re few and far between.

I step off the machine and rejoin the crowd of passersby inching towards the barriers. My fingers grasp the ticket in my pocket. Ahead, Rias looks through her bag. Yuuto sidles up beside me, with a guiding hand on Koneko’s shoulder.

The crowd grinds to a halt. I feel the familiar soft press of flesh against my back and turn an accusing eye onto Akeno. She smiles and juts out her chin. Shaking my head, I grab her by the shoulders and we trade places, to her amusement.

Minutes later, we gather in front of the station.

“Why won’t this stupid thing refresh?” Rias mutters, scrolling through her phone. “It’s not updating.”

Yuuto leans over her shoulder. “Maybe close the app and open it again?”

“I say we look for it the old-fashioned way. I don’t think the restaurant was that far from the station anyway, but we can ask for directions,” Akeno says.

Koneko takes a deep drag from her juice box. A shout breaks through the street’s chatter. A young boy—twelve, maybe thirteen—vaults over the ticket barrier. His bag catches on the edge, a few loose coins spill onto the street, but he doesn’t stop to grab them.

“Hey! Stop right there, kid!”

Two men in ordinary clothes follow close behind. They look like irritated commuters or perhaps security personnel, but the way their gazes cut through the crowd sets my teeth on edge. To say nothing of the strange way the air bends around them. I catch a peculiar gold shimmer before it fades, like heat distorting thin air.

A few people glance up, frown, then go back to their business. The boy darts left, vanishing into the human swarm pouring out of another line. The pair push through after him, flashing thin slips of paper between their fingers that glow that same gold hue for half a second before dimming.

Rias’ phone lowers slowly. “...Akeno. Did you see that?”

“That’s… Onmyōdō,” Akeno says. Her violet eyes are downright stormy. “Suppression seals by the looks of it.”

“That boy wasn’t quite human either,” Yuuto says.

Koneko’s golden eyes narrow. “Youkai.”

The crowd closes the gap where the boy disappeared. The city swallows the noise again, as if nothing happened.

Akeno bites her lip to speak, but I’m already moving.

“Issei—”

I ignore her. The decision was made the moment I met that boy’s eyes and saw the unbridled fear within them. I slip into the stream of bodies, keeping my own presence tucked tight against my skin to avoid tipping them off via any demonic power.

The boy turns the corner up ahead, nearly tripping over a discarded signboard. The two men follow a heartbeat later, talismans flashing again.

That same faint, oppressive pulse hits me, but I follow them anyway.

Chapter Text

Chapter 14: Paper Souls

The moment I round the corner, the noise from the street dies down to a dull hum. I find myself in a narrow alley lined with rusted dumpsters and shuttered doors. Steam vents from a nearby restaurant’s exhaust pipe, wrapping the area in a thin mist that shimmers faintly in the afternoon light.

The boy stumbles halfway down the alley, slipping on a puddle. He crashes into the wall, clutching his small backpack to his chest like a shield. The two men close in, talismans raised, their lips moving in sharp, clipped syllables that make my skin crawl.

“Stop struggling,” one of them barks. “You’re making this harder than it needs to be! Don’t you want to be reunited with your mother?”

The boy’s nostrils flare with rage. He hurls his backpack at one of the men. The other flicks his wrist, and the talisman in his hand burns gold. The back smashes flat against the wall, batted aside by a jet of solid light. The boy yelps, pressing himself further into the corner. His small hands flare with faint grey light, but the moment the golden energy sparks, his power gutters out like a dying flame.

I heft an arm over my shoulder and throw right as my spear materialises. It rips apart the first man’s talisman. I summon it back with a flick of my wrist, destroying the second man’s talisman too. His eyes go wide. I close the gap and smash the haft into the closer man. He folds over with a wet gasp.

The second one spins toward me, another seal already in hand, but I’m faster. My spear turns to its sword form, and I pivot, breaking his nose with its pommel. His head cracks against the brick wall, and he slides down, groaning. For a brief second, there’s only the sound of the first man retching and the faint buzz of streetlight power lines overhead.

Then both men stir, but only the one with the broken nose fumbles for another talisman.

 “Y-You… who the hell are you?” he slurs as he staggers upright.

He tries to mutter a chant under his breath, but I cut him off with a punch to the throat. He gags, dropping the charm as he stumbles back. The paper’s glow winks out midair. I grab his arm and twist hard. A snap rings out, and he gurgles out a groan. His knees hit the pavement, and his talisman falls uselessly beside him.

I glance toward the boy. He hasn’t moved. His back is pressed against the wall, eyes wide and glassy, breath coming in short bursts.

“Hey,” I say softly, stepping closer despite his flinch. “It’s all right. I’m not with them.”

His fingers tighten around the straps of his bag. Yuuto was right. He’s not human. Not fully, anyway. Up close, I can sense that. Whatever he is, though, he doesn’t belong in a chase like that.

“You can relax. They’re down,” I say, lowering my voice even more. “You’re not hurt, are you?”

He shakes his head, though his lips tremble.

“What did they mean about reuniting you with your mother?” I ask. “Did they… kill her?”

He stares at the ground, clutching his bag like it’s the only thing anchoring him to this world. “...Worse.”

The groan of one of the men breaks the silence. I glance over my shoulder. The one I hit first is trying to push himself up with a face twisted between pain and rage.

I kick him square in the ribs. He goes limp again. “You’ll live,” I say. “We’ve got questions for you, so it’s in your interest to stay down. Actually…”

Two short swings later, and both men lie unconscious on the ground. When I turn back, the kid has taken a tentative step forward. His eyes dart from the downed men to me, as if trying to decide which of us is worse.

In light of that, I keep some distance. “I’m Issei. You?”

He hesitates. “...K-Kota.”

“All right, Kota. You’re safe now. I can promise these two won’t be hurting you again, at least.”

The boy manages a shaky laugh, then winces when one of the men stirs again. “There are more of them, though…”

“Hey,” I say, nodding toward the far end of the alley. “There’s a maid café two streets over. Go there, order something cheap, and wait for me. Don’t talk to anyone, got it?”

He blinks, unsure. “You’re… coming back, right?”

“Yeah,” I say. “My friends will want to know what’s going on, and we need somewhere to put these guys so we can find out what their deal is.”

Kota hesitates another moment. “I... I-I have a hideout.”

“Yeah? Okay, change of plans, then. Mind waiting for my friends to get here?”

He slings his bag higher on his shoulders and gives me a hesitant nod. Footsteps pound the pavement behind us..

“Issei!” Akeno’s anxious voice cuts through the alley. I exhale slowly, letting the tension bleed from my shoulders.

Rias stops short of fully entering, her eyes flicking from the bodies to me. “Are they still alive?”

“Yes,” Koneko says, sniffing the air once.

Yuuto crouches beside one of the shredded talismans. “...Akeno, what do these things do?”

“They’re pretty destroyed, but I’m fairly certain they’re binding seals meant to suppress spiritual energy. This boy’s half-youkai, so I suppose it’d weaken him enough for them to subdue him without him running off.”

“A kidnapping, huh?” Rias murmurs.

I nod. “He said they did something to his mother. Likely kidnapped her while he escaped.”

Akeno frowns as she looks at the boy. He mistakes her gaze for suspicion and shrinks away.

“Hey, Kota? You said you had a hideout, right?” I ask.

He looks at me, then at my friends, before nodding slowly.

“Mind taking us there?”

—⧬⧭⧬—

Kota leads us through a back route past the back of a noodle shop and a shuttered electronics stall still glowing with leftover LED haze. He keeps his head down, but even so, his fingers keep twitching around the strap of his bag. We fan out behind, Akeno pulling the men along under invisibility, and duck into an old warehouse the moment Kota pushes open a corroded fire door.

Light falls in long, thin slashes through high windows. A few broken beams dangle from the ceiling, but it’s mostly perfect for hiding, decrepit state and all. Akeno sets the two men—our unconscious ticket officers—down in a shadowed alcove and pulls their jackets over their heads to muffle them before she imprisons them.

Yuuto checks them for identification, talismans, the sorts of things people hide in boots. He doesn’t find much beyond a cheap lighter with a burned sigil scraped into it.

“They’re not your ordinary catspaws,” Yuuto says. “Not with the level of techniques they’re capable of. You said it’s Onmyōdō… do you reckon they have ties to the Five Principal Clans, Akeno?”

She shrugs, a malign darkness crawling across her face. “Possibly. I’ve not had anything to do with the Himejima clan since I was a child, but I’ll find out, one way or another.”

Koneko pads forward, sniffs the remaining talisman Yuuto brought out, then wrinkles her nose with an uncontrolled shudder. “...Stinky.”

Kota flops onto a crate like he thinks it might be the safest place in the building. It probably is. I sit opposite him at a safe enough distance he clearly wants but doesn’t ask for. He studies my face like I’m some kind of puzzle.

“You said they took your mother,” I say. “When?”

“Three days ago,” he whispers. “Maybe four. She… she was taken from our home. They turned up in the middle of the night.” 

“They? How many?”

“These two—” He chokes. “And four others.”

“Who are they, Kota?” Akeno asks, gentle in a way that’s almost cruel because Kota flinches like she struck him when her voice softens. “Did they say?”

Kota shakes his head. There’s more in his mouth than what he’s telling us. Rias nods and smiles in her usual encouraging way, and he caves.

“My mother,” he says slowly, “is not human. She… came from the city. She was born out of people’s quiet and their loneliness, I think. She met a man who made her feel less lonely… and then she had me.”

He recites the words like sacred, and the way he rocks back and forth and smiles makes the warehouse feel small.

“You mean she’s a youkai?” Koneko asks, simple and blunt like a kid with a math question.

Kota nods. “At night, sometimes, she gets thin and long, like a shadow. She hums a tune that makes me fall asleep in ten heartbeats. She says she was born out of Tokyo’s loneliness… but that I ease that a little because I laugh at trains.”

Akeno exhales. “A spirit born from loneliness.” Her fingers tap the back of her hand, thinking. “And these people came out of nowhere… for your mother, Kota?”

“..And me as well,” he says.

“Did they say what for?”

Kota shakes his head.

One of the unconscious men—muffled by a jacket—groans. Kota’s face goes cold at the sound.

“...Scum,” Akeno says, sneering at the man.

We all fall silent for a moment. Outside, a distant train clatters on, totally unaware. Rias stands and moves toward the warehouse’s dented roll-down door. I look at Kota. He’s not said much, only talking in response to questions asked while keeping the men in his field of vision.

“We’ll find her, Kota,” I say.

The words are simpler to say than the plan I don’t actually have yet. They’re also true. He smiles but doesn’t meet my eyes. The terse silence that falls over us, though, is disturbed pretty quickly by his stomach’s fierce growl.

I fight the twitch in my lips. Yuuto volunteers to grab some food without being asked, slipping beneath the shutter.

“...Kota, was it?” Akeno says, walking to his stack of crates and bending down. “Once we eat… would you show us where you live?”

“W-Why?” Kota asks, brow furrowed.

“You said there were more people when your mother was abducted, right?” At his nod, she continues: “We’d just like to see if there’s any other evidence to help us uncover their identities, is all.”

I meet Rias’ gaze. There’s a much faster way to discover who these men are, but Kota’s experienced enough cruelty. Though checking out his house for clues isn’t a bad idea, the dark look in Akeno’s eye tells me she suggested the investigation for another reason entirely.

A while later, Yuuto’s splashing footsteps are accompanied by the shutter’s screech. He brings two steaming boxes of curry and rice, a bag of onigiri, and a half-dozen cans of coffee. He picks the least soggy part of the warehouse—which happens to be another stack of crates—and plunks his wares down.

We feed Kota first. His hands tremble when he takes the food, but he eats with an urgency that makes me want to tell him to slow down. I watch him as we pass boxes around. He’s almost finished by the time I’ve got my food. 

When the boxes are empty and the last can is crushed and tossed aside, Kota sits back, full and bewildered. “...W-Will you really help me get my mum back?”

“We will,” Rias says, patting his head. “But first, we’re going to check your house for clues, remember?”

Kota’s smile is wider now. It seems the hot meal won him over. Yuuto pockets the last of the onigiri wrappers before lifting the shutter halfway for the rest of us. One by one, we slip underneath until I’m the only one left in the warehouse.

…Well, ignoring Akeno and our two captives anyway.

“You’re okay here, right?” I ask. “I don’t have to worry about you, do I?”

Akeno, for some reason, is applying lipstick when she turns to me. “Who me?” she asks, giggling. A slow flush creeps up her neck, before it dyes her face red. “I’m about to have the time of my life, Issei, so don’t you worry your head about little old me.”

The shutter isn’t even closed when the crackle and pop of her lightning reaches my ears.

—⧬⧭⧬—

The streets get quieter as we leave the city behind. Houses here are small, pressed close together like they’re hiding. Kota leads the way, his little shoulders set and tense, while his backpack trembles with each step. We break through a patch of trees and end up on a narrow, slanted road that runs between the forest and a strip of half-wild gardens.

His house sits at the end. It’s two storeys tall, with greyed wood and a veranda slanted at one corner. Koneko’s the first to step past the gate after Kota.

Rias nods once. “Let’s make this quick.”

The front door’s unlocked. Kota freezes at the threshold, his fingers twitching. I glance at him. “You alright?”

He nods, but his throat bobs hard. We’re met by stale air as we enter. The furniture’s old but neatly arranged, and every surface gleams faintly in the moonlight spilling through the half-drawn blinds. Akeno would’ve complimented his mother’s taste in perfume, but she’s not here.

Rias gestures to Yuuto, who heads for the back rooms. Koneko slips toward the kitchen, sniffing. I stay with Kota, who’s hovering, moving neither forward nor backward.

“You can walk in,” I tell him gently. “You live here.”

He hesitates, then shuffles forward, his eyes darting everywhere. There’s a small frame on the low table—two figures: a pale woman with long hair, smiling shyly at the camera, and an equally dark-haired, grey-eyed boy clutching her sleeve with a megawatt grin.

Kota stares at it for a long time before whispering, “They… didn’t take everything.”

Rias tilts her head. “What did they take?”

“Her charm box. She kept her seals in there. And… a paper doll.” He swallows. “She said it could carry her soul if she ever needed to hide.”

Rias and I exchange a look.

“A soul-anchoring vessel?” Rias asks. “Would she… sometimes ask you to control it?”

Kota smiles. “...It’s a game we used to play. She’d go inside it, and I'd make her run around the table and climb the couch.”

“He can wield Shikigami, then,” Rias whispers to me as if I understand what she’s talking about.

Yuuto returns first. “Upstairs’s trashed. Evident signs of struggle. I guess they didn’t see the need to clean up, given how far out we are.”

Koneko pads back. “Found blood in the sink,” she says, matter-of-fact. “Human.”

Kota’s face goes white. I crouch, lowering myself to his eye level. “Hey… your mother isn’t a human. Sounds like she put up quite a fight. Besides, she’s worth more to those bastards alive than dead, right?”

He nods weakly, biting his lip.

There’s a small shrine shelf above the television, tucked away between stacks of books. The offerings are fresh—there’s still half a rice cake left, and a cup of tea long gone cold. I scan the spines of the books beside it. The floorboards creak behind me. I turn and stop. Kota’s standing in the hallway, staring at the door leading to what must be his mother’s room.

His eyes are glassy again.

“Can I…?” he starts.

Rias nods once after Koneko affirms his question. “Go ahead.”

He opens the door and steps inside. The rest of us follow, but quietly, giving him space. The room’s simple. There’s a futon, neatly rolled, a desk positioned behind a cracked window that looks out toward the forest.

Kota slumps against the desk, shoulders shaking.

“We’ll find her,” I tell him again.

The floor vibrates faintly beneath us—a low, distant rumble. Yuuto glances toward the window. “Train,” he murmurs.

Kota sniffs once, wipes his eyes. “The sound made her feel less lonely. She met my dad on a train, apparently… he’s dead.”

Something in my throat twists. I reach out and rest a hand on his shoulder. “We’ll bring her back alive, you hear me?”

Rias nods toward the door. “We’ve seen what we need to. Let’s get back before Akeno grows… bored.”

—⧬⧭⧬—

The warehouse smells like the scant moments before a tempestuous downpour when we return. Akeno’s sitting on one of the crates, legs crossed, expression serene. The two men are still alive—barely. One’s slumped forward, drooling. The other’s trembling so hard his teeth chatter.

“...Enjoy yourself?” I ask dryly.

She bats her lashes at me. “Immensely.”

“Well? What’d they reveal?”

Akeno’s smile dims. “They’re from the Five Principal Clans, alright… just not in the way I expected. They’re rejects… like me. Those unable to manifest the qualities of their house, or in some cases, manifested abilities that are anathema to Shintoism. Apparently, their group—called the Utsusemi Agency, apparently—was decimated years ago. These people just want a bit of power in their veins. Our friends here were supposed to take Kota to their holding site in an abandoned train tunnel.”

Koneko tilts her head. “How many of them are there?”

“Six still stationed there, and maybe a dozen across town looking for him, though they should be headed back now.”

Yuuto frowns. “Armed?”

“Wards, weapons, the works, but they’re not expecting a rescue effort.”

I drag a hand down my face. “Great.”

Rias looks over at Kota, who’s standing behind me, chewing his sleeve. “Our focus is rescuing Kota’s mother.”

“What about the would-be kidnappers?” Akeno asks, her voice lilting.

“Keep them alive, please,” Rias says. “If we kill them all, there’ll be none left to question.”

I kneel beside one of the unconscious men. His pulse is steady but weak. “They tell you where they’re keeping his mother specifically?”

“Lower levels, near the central ring. Apparently, she’s been… difficult.”

“Difficult?”

“Too strong to suppress fully and with a mean streak, too. They had to use layered seals just to move her.”

Kota’s eyes glimmer with a fierce kind of pride. His lips tremble, but this time his hopeful grin keeps the fear at bay.

I stand, stretching out my shoulders. While everyone else hashes out the finer details, I sit with Kota on a crate near the far wall. Akeno’s lightning has left faint jagged veins across the concrete.

Kota’s eyelids droop. The day’s exhaustion finally seems to have won.

“Do you think… she’s scared?” he asks.

“Definitely,” I admit. “But she’s holding on for you. That’s what mothers do, you know.”

He nods slowly. Within minutes, his weight slumps against me and his breathing steadies. Gently, I prop him up against the wall. Across the room, Rias and Akeno are talking in low tones. The two traffickers lie still, bound and gagged, unconscious now. I glance down at Kota, then at the afternoon glow beginning to creep under the shutter.

“We’ll get her back, Kota,” I murmur. “Sleep tight.”