"You cannot save a world if you are not capable of embracing your own."
Kuoh.
The streets were the same. The smell of freshly baked bread, the whir of bicycles passing by, the everyday murmur of a world that never knew what it lost. Or what it was about to regain.
Issei walked among the people like a ghost. The same face, the same young body, but with a gaze that didn't fit this world. His eyes, green as wet leaves, carried the weight of graves, of crossfires and broken promises. His steps were silent, calculated, as if every movement was etched into his very core.
He wore his hood low, covering part of his face, and a black military backpack slung over his shoulder. The school, the clubs, the conversations about breasts and video games… all of that now seemed like part of another life. Another person.
His feet stopped in front of the old family home. White. Small. Humble.
His chest tightened.
They're still here.
For the first time since his return, he wasn't a warrior. He wasn't God's weapon nor Lucifer's disciple. Just a son. One who had buried his parents long ago, and who now had them… alive.
The door opened.
"Issei!" His mother's voice pierced him like a shot. Tender. Alive.
She ran to hug him without thinking. Without hesitation. As if his two-day absence—the one they thought normal—was enough to justify so much love.
But he didn't move. For a second, he froze.
And then… he broke.
His arms wrapped around her tightly. A trembling force.
His face buried in her shoulder as if he feared she would disappear if he looked at her directly.
"Sorry…" he murmured. "Sorry for everything."
His father appeared in the doorway, frowning in surprise, holding a cup of coffee he barely noticed. And then he saw his son.
Not the fool who dreamed of a harem.
But someone else. Someone… broken.
"Son? What's wrong?"
Issei released his mother and walked towards him, his eyes wet, his jaw clenched.
"I failed you… I realized that… I didn't appreciate you. I wasn't there… when you needed me most. I didn't act as I should have… But this time… this time I won't let the same thing happen."
His father looked at him in silence. He had never seen him like this.
Like a soldier returning from a war no one remembered.
There was an awkward silence. And then, clumsily, the older man set his cup aside and hugged him.
"Welcome home, Issei."
Inside, the boy swore to himself that he would never fail them again.
Neither them, nor the world.
He had lived to destroy.
Now… he would live to protect.
But protecting also requires lying. And killing.
And that… he would do better than anyone.