POV: Haruki
I sat beside Issei during lunch, waiting for Asia to arrive. I had shown her the way to the school earlier, though a part of me feared she'd still get lost. Spatial awareness isn't exactly a skill you pick up in a church basement.
It was an unusual occurrence, me sitting with Issei. We weren't exactly friends.
"Hey, Issei, what's this pretty bastard doing in our lair?"
The voice belonged to a bald-headed boy pointing directly at me. Matsuda. One of Issei's so-called friends. I knew of him in the way one knows of a spreading rash, persistent rumors, none flattering. "Perverted Baldy." "Sexual Harassment Paparazzi." Ridiculous names, yes. But somehow disturbingly accurate. He pointed at me like I'd defiled his shrine.
"Come to think of it, you've been hanging out with a lot of pretty people lately."
The second one spoke, Motohama. Nicknamed "Perverted Glasses" and "Three-Size Scouter," which, frankly, says everything you need to know. What a trio. If ever proof were needed that mediocrity cultivates itself, there they sat. Boys who turned perversion into a collective coping mechanism. Not unusual, in principle, perversion is human. But what makes it problematic is that they made it public. Obnoxiously so.
"Yes, I saw you walking with the two 'Great One-sama' and now you're with the 'Genius of Kuoh." Matsuda added, gesturing to me with all the reverence of someone pointing out a stain on their shirt. The first titles belonged to Rias and Akeno, the latter apparently to me. This school had a habit of creating celebrities out of silhouettes.
I found their obsession with appearance exhausting. Aesthetic value is no sin, but idolatry is a form of self-inflicted ignorance.
"Wait," Motohama said, mock horror in his voice, "could it be that you're becoming friends with this pretty boy? Have you become… one of them?"
"You were supposed to destroy the pretty boys!" Matsuda declared, voice trembling with comic tragedy. "Not join them!" they said together.
I chuckled. They were ridiculous, yes, but mildly entertaining.
"No way I'm friends with him," Issei said quickly, distancing himself as if I carried some contagious affliction. "I don't know why he's here. He just followed me."
They sat down with exaggerated caution, staring at me as though I had defiled their ancestral grave.
"Why are you sitting here?" Matsuda demanded, eyes narrowed. "What do you want?"
"Ah, well. You see, I have a problem. One you three might be uniquely qualified to help me solve," I said smoothly.
"Help you?" Motohama scoffed.
"The genius of Kuoh needs our help?" Matsuda leaned in, suspicion dripping from his voice.
"Why yes. Recently, I did something extremely foolish. And since you three are specialists in self-sabotage, I thought, why not consult the masters?"
"You smug bastard," Motohama said, eyes flaring.
"Die, you asshole!" barked Issei and Matsuda in unison.
"Even if it's true, fuck you," Motohama continued. "Just because you're smart and good-looking doesn't mean you can talk down to us."
"That's why I hate pretty guys," Issei grumbled.
"Well, now that's just prejudice," I replied dryly. "Not all good-looking guys are assholes."
"Enough of them are," Matsuda said bitterly. "They take everything. The girls. The attention. We're left with nothing because of people like you."
I considered telling them the real reason girls avoid them has less to do with looks and more to do with the way they introduce themselves by listing cup sizes, but decided against it.
"What stupid thing did you do, anyway?" Motohama asked, curiosity overriding his bitterness.
"I danced naked in front of a nun."
The silence was immediate and deafening.
"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Motohama finally whispered.
"Weren't you just judging us for being perverts? You're worse than us!" Matsuda shouted.
"How does that even happen? There aren't even nuns in this town!" Motohama protested.
"Life is full of surprises," I said flatly.
"Yeah, shit happens, I guess," Matsuda said sarcastically. "We all end up dancing naked in front of a nun at some point, right?"
"Perhaps we have more in common than you'd like to believe," I said with a hollow smile. "We could even be friends."
"Hell no." Matsuda didn't miss a beat. "That was a joke, in case you didn't get it. We have nothing in common."
"You'd be surprised. Why don't you ask me something?"
"Fine. One question," Motohama said seriously. "This determines your worth as a man. Your character. Your essence."
I was curious now.
"What's your type in women?"
I should have seen it coming.
"A jacked, six and half feet tall medieval Amazon with big Tits, who only wants to fight, hunt, eat, drink and have sex," I answered without hesitation.
There was a beat of stunned silence.
"Dude, you're hardcore," Issei said, cracking up.
"Respect," said Motohama. "I'm a lolicon, personally, but I respect that."
I gave him a look.
"That still doesn't mean we'll be your friends!" Matsuda yelled.
"Damn. And I thought we had something special," I said dryly.
Before he could speak, my phone rang.
I took it out. It was my Mother.
Unusual. She rarely called during school hours. I stood, stepped away from the noise, and answered in a deliberately cheerful tone. "Hello, mom."
"Haruki Yamashiro." Her voice was cold. Formal.
Unmistakably bad news. When your mother uses your full government name, it usually means you've committed an atrocity. Or worse, an embarrassment.
"Yes, mommy, what's wrong?" I replied with feigned cuteness, carefully modulating my tone. She always insisted on being called "mommy," though I usually reserved the term for times when I needed something from her. Today, however, survival made it a necessity.
"I got your monthly report card," she said, voice deceptively calm.
"So?" My grades were perfect. That couldn't be the issue.
"So? So? he says–" she exploded. "WHY HAVEN'T YOU BEEN ATTENDING YOUR CLASSES?"
Ah. That.
"It says here you've barely been attending for the last six weeks!" she continued, her voice shrill, livid.
Yes. That made sense. I'd been completely absorbed in the study of magic, to the point of fasting, ignoring sleep, and apparently, school. A minor oversight.
"ANSWER ME! HARUKI YAMASHIRO! SPEAK!" She was still yelling.
"Has my son turned into a delinquent? Skipping school? What have I done wrong as a mother?!"
Do all mothers take a class in melodrama?
"No, mom, I haven't turned into a delinquent, for the Lord's sake," I said, with an exhausted calm.
"Then why haven't you been going to school?" she pressed.
"I was sick. I couldn't go." The lie came easily.
She gasped, voice softening immediately as her concern overrode her fury. She began interrogating me on my symptoms. What illness? What happened? Was I eating? Have I seen a doctor?
I reassured her. I was fine. Nothing serious. No need to visit. I had recovered.
Throughout the charade, I kept hearing laughter on the line.
"Dad," I said, tone flat. "Would you like to help instead of laughing?"
"Why would I? I'm not the one who's been skipping school to do who-knows-what," my father said, thoroughly entertained.
Traitor.
"I told you, I was sick," I repeated, matching his amusement with my own conviction. Lies need tone as much as content.
"Sure. Whatever you say," he replied, unfazed.
"Whose side are you even on?"
"The one that doesn't get cut off from sex if I don't support her," he said smugly.
"Pathetic. You'd abandon our sacred father-son bond for sex? Have you no principles?"
"When sex is concerned, my only principle is that I have no principles," he declared proudly.
"Can you two stop playing around?" said my mother, voice dry. "And aren't you supposed to ask him something?"
"Of course, of course," he said, still laughing. He never did take things seriously until he absolutely had to. "On a more serious note though, Haruki, why haven't you been going to school?"
I didn't answer. Not immediately. I was still thinking about what to say.
"I told you—"
"Don't lie. You've never been good at lying to us," he said, cutting me off.
I stayed silent.
He wasn't wrong.
"You found something interesting again, haven't you? Something that's consumed you completely," he said, amused again.
"Damn. Am I that predictable?"
"You can hide things. When you want to," my mother said.
"But we're your parents. We've known you all your life," my father added.
"Remember when you lost to the neighbor's kid at table tennis?" my father said suddenly, nostalgic. "You were nine. He was fifteen, I think. You were furious, demanded we buy you a table, practiced for two weeks like a lunatic, challenged him again and won."
"It was hilarious. I still remember the look on your face," my mother laughed.
"And I finally got to mock his parents. Worth it," my father added with malice.
"Which you shouldn't have," Mother added dryly. "It was petty."
"Oh, come on. They were the ones who went around bragging about it. He wasn't even that good for his age," my father said dismissively.
They had seemingly forgotten I was still on the call.
"In any case, go to your classes. This can't happen again," said my father, finally stern.
"You're not even going to ask whether this obsession I've been chasing might be… dangerous?" I asked, lightly amused.
"Like what?" he asked.
"I don't know. Drugs?"
"Are you doing drugs?" he asked flatly.
"No."
"Damn," he said.
"…Why do you sound disappointed?"
"Because you're a teenager living alone. That's what teenagers do when left to their own devices. At least it would mean you're living your life."
"You're unbelievable," I said.
"Stop saying nonsense, you moron! You'll put ideas in his head!" snapped mother.
"Oh please," said father. "As if Haruki listens to anyone. He is driven by the fire of his own heart, working alone, seeking neither help nor advice from anyone."
He sounded proud. A fair assessment of my character, I would say.
"I wonder where he got that from," Mother asked dryly.
"Haruki, dear," she said suddenly, "have you made any new friends? Or perhaps… a girlfriend?"
"Well. Sort of. I've been spending time with someone named Kiba. He's… interesting."
That was true. Not quite a friendship, but we had trained together. There was mutual understanding, if not closeness.
"Well, that's something. And speaking of girlfriends, how is dear Tsubaki?" asked my mother with fondness. "I still think breaking up with her was a mistake. She seemed like a lovely girl."
Yeah, I dated Tsubaki Shinra. Sona's Queen. Though I hadn't known that at the time. We'd run into each other again after the incident with the explosion. That had been... uncomfortable. Seeing your ex dancing on fire naked and seeing your ex while dancing on fire naked, both situations are equally awkward.
"I guess it just didn't work out," I said, indifferent.
She wasn't the only girlfriend I have had in this life, and sentimentality was a luxury I had no interest in.
"One day, you'll have to stop prioritizing every other obsession and actually focus on finding a woman," said father, exasperated.
"In any case," he added, "don't let this interfere with school again."
"Also," Mother added, tone softening. "Could you call your sister? She's been having… issues."
"What kind?" I asked, tone cooling instantly.
"She's been having nightmares. She says a horrible creature comes out of her shadow and kills people in her dreams. She wakes up screaming.It's been happening frequently. "
"I see."
"We're worried," she added. "You two have always been close. Maybe you can calm her."
"I'll call her," I said. "She probably just misses her awesome big brother."
"Let's hope that's all it is. Take care, darling," said mother, ending the call.
"You too."
I slipped the phone back into my pocket. I would call her later.
Nightmares that murder people. While normally, I wouldn't take something like this seriously, on the other hand this world has magic and anything is possible.
Yes. I will definitely call her.
After I ended the phone call, I turned to walk toward Issei, but then I saw her. The person I'd been waiting for.
Asia, dressed in casual clothes and smiling with almost painful sincerity, waved in my direction. I returned the gesture and moved toward her. Unsurprisingly, people turned their heads. A foreign girl like her would draw attention anywhere, especially here. I could already hear the murmurs, half-curious, half-joking, speculating whether she was my new girlfriend.
We exchanged brief greetings. She seemed a little overwhelmed by the stares, her eyes flickering from face to unfamiliar face.
I glanced at Issei and gestured for him to approach. He came over, glancing at her with unguarded interest.
"Are you okay now, Asia-san?" he asked, voice laced with concern.
"Yeah, Issei. Thank you very much. And I want to thank you again… for helping me against Father Freed. I am immensely thankful that you risked your life for me," she said sincerely, bowing her head.
"Bah! Don't mention it," Issei replied, scratching the back of his head, visibly embarrassed. "It's not like I achieved anything in the end. I was too weak."
"No, Issei-kun. That's not true," Asia said gently. "You were brave. You tried to protect me. Even if you think you were weak… to me, you were strong. Because you chose to protect someone you barely knew. That is never meaningless." She paused, then looked up at him with warm eyes. "Sometimes… The heart behind an action matters more than the result. I believe… God sees the heart, not just the outcome."
Issei looked like he was about to cry.
There was a groan at the mention of Big G.
"Oh, I'm so sorry!" Asia said in a panic. "Sometimes I forget that I shouldn't say the Lord's name in front of you."
"It's alright, Asia-san. I understand," said Issei with his usual foolish smile.
"Hey, you never apologize to me when you say God's name in front of me. In fact, you do it deliberately," I said, feigning indignation.
"Well, otherwise you'd forget to eat because you're so focused on your studies. You don't even hear me when I call your name, so I have to call the Lord's name to get your attention. And the food would get cold," she said with a smile.
She'd become comfortable around me.The girl who once flinched at my voice now teased me with casual impunity. I suppose I should be proud, she pulls things like this now.
"Sadism from a nun? I didn't expect it," I replied, pretending to be disappointed.
But Asia didn't catch the tone and panicked.
"Oh no, no! I don't enjoy causing you pain at all, Haruki. I apologize if I hurt you too much."
Oh dear. She's so earnest it almost hurts.
"Ignore that bastard, Asia-san," Issei said. "He's just teasing you." Then he turned to me, narrowing his eyes. "Have you been forcing Asia to cook for you, you bastard?"
"I did no such thing."
"Oh no, no! Issei, Haruki didn't force me to do anything at all. In fact, he has been nothing but kind to me all this time," said Asia quickly, moving to defend me.
She clasped her hands in front of her chest, earnest as ever.
"I offered to help because I wanted to, Issei-kun. I don't want to just… freeload in Haruki's home after everything he's done for me." She looked at me, then back to Issei, shy but resolute. "He gave me a place to stay when I had nowhere to go. And he's always been patient and respectful, even when I was still scared of him." Her fingers tightened. "So I just wanted to do something in return. Even something small. I like cooking, and it makes me happy when people enjoy what I make. It's… a way I can give back." She tilted her head slightly. "Besides, I think Haruki-kun would forget to eat if someone didn't remind him."
"Slander," I said flatly.
"Oh, I see. Just tell me if he makes you do something you don't like," said Issei, serious again.
"Keep your thoughts to yourself, man. Don't project your issues onto me," I replied, half-joking.
He wants to be her hero. I suppose there's something charming about that.
"Let's go to the clubroom," I said, and we began walking.
We talked along the way.
"So, Asia-san, what do you plan to do now?" Issei asked, still watching her closely
"Well… to be honest, I don't really know," Asia began. "All my life, I thought my path was fixed. That I would forever stay in the church, in service of the Lord, healing people with Twilight Healing. But now… I don't really know."
She was speaking shyly, hesitantly.
"But I wish to experience what it's like to go to a normal school and have friends."
She'd already told me that back at home. Hearing it again now, in this context, makes something sink in my chest.
Her childhood was never hers. It was spent healing others, living as a tool because that's what she was taught. I thought of my sister, Hikaru. Asia is one year older than her, but anyone meeting the two would think it was the other way around. It wasn't that Asia was stupid, just that she had never been allowed to live for herself. There is a certain naivety as a result of her sheltered upbringing.
"I will register you at this school so you can attend as a student," I told her again, reaffirming the promise I'd already made.
"Yeah, Asia-san, you can go to school with us!" said Issei, his smile bright, visibly excited.
"Thank you very much," said Asia, her voice breaking slightly as tears welled in her eyes.
I looked at her and spoke again.
"Now, Asia. Don't be nervous when Rias speaks to you. And remember, I will stand by your side, whatever your decision may be."
I'd said this before. But Asia was the type who didn't want to let anyone down. That kindness could break her, if no one reminds her she is allowed to choose.
----------------------------------------------
"Haruki has probably told you already," Rias began, addressing Asia, "but I would like to ask you to join my peerage as my Rook. I think you would fit into my team perfectly." Her voice was hopeful, her gaze unwavering.
"There are a lot of benefits you could gain by joining my household. With me, you will never want for anything again," she continued with a smile, serene and composed. "First of all, I would put your worry at rest. I treat my peerage like my family. I would never mistreat any of them, no matter what."
The others nodded in agreement, a symphony of reassuring smiles. Slaves who lost everything in their chains, even the desire of escaping them.
"You'll have a home. A family. People who protect you and care for you. You'll never be alone, never be cast out, never be helpless again."
Asia's eyes flickered, not with temptation, but with something quieter, recognition perhaps, of Rias's sincerity.
"Furthermore, by becoming a devil, you become effectively immortal. A body that won't age. A life that can stretch for ten thousand years. You get the ability to use demonic magic, a power with which you can do anything you can imagine."
Technically true. But the devil's system of magic was not simply fueled by imagination. It was a scaffold. You needed talent. Drive. Luck. Huge amount of Resources. Imagination was the paint, not the canvas, and certainly not the brush. But I held my tongue. There was a rhythm to Rias's pitch. Interrupting it would only muddy the performance.
"If you work hard enough, you can even become a High-Class devil and get your own peerage. Have your own servants. Accumulate wealth, power, prestige. Form your own household. Rule, lead, protect. All of it - safety, power, freedom - can be yours, Asia."
Saying anyone can become High-class by working hard is like saying anyone can become a millionaire by working hard. Technically true. Practically absurd. Still, the illusion sells.
"And most importantly," Rias added, her tone softening to something almost maternal, "you will have a newfound family in us, that will have your back in anything and protect you from danger. As you are a wielder of Sacred Gear, you will be hunted by bad actors who will harm you for their agenda. I-We can protect you from that. Like Issei did against the priest. No one would ever harm you again. No sword. No curse. No priest. You would never be at anyone's mercy."
It was a compelling offer. And yet she did not mention how she left Asia behind. Convenient omission.
"All you have to do... is let go of what holds you back and join my family."
Truly, I was impressed. The pitch was seamless, idealistic, strategic, even moving in its construction.
Asia was silent for a long time. Her fingers curled into her lap. Her posture perfect, but brittle.
She nodded slowly, and I watched her face, not with the anxiety of someone considering temptation, but the clarity of someone acknowledging beauty without desire.
"Rias-san... Thank you. I truly mean that. You've been so kind to me. All of you have. And I understand what you're offering: a place, a purpose, a future. It would be easy to say yes."
She looked up. Her voice was gentle, but it did not tremble.
She turned her gaze to me. Something anchored in it.
"But I once gave my heart to God, and I won't take it back now, even if I'm afraid."
Rias didn't move.
"You offer safety," Asia continued, "but safety alone does not nourish the soul. 'Man does not live by bread alone,'" she said gently. "Not even the bread of comfort or power."
The room had gone still. Issei said nothing. Kiba was unreadable.
Rias leaned forward, her smile faded into a thin, unreadable line.
"You say I'll never be hurt again. Never alone. That you'll protect me. But my faith... was never a bargain for safety. I don't want miracles on command or proof in exchange for belief. 'You shall not put the Lord your God to the test.'"
Asia smiled, fragile and luminous.
"And all the kingdoms of the world..."
She whispered it.
"Power. Authority. The right to rule and save others through strength. It's beautiful. But I was not made for thrones."
Her hands folded over her heart.
"I was made to love. To serve. To heal. Not to command. Not to be worshiped or feared or obeyed. But to walk beside others freely. I choose that path, not as a devil, not as a nun... but as Asia Argento."
Then she bowed. Deeply. The sincerity in that gesture was almost unbearable.
"I'm grateful for your offer, Rias-san. Truly. But I must decline."
Rias did not respond immediately. For a moment, it seemed she hadn't heard. She blinked once. Her lips parted slightly.
"If I may say something, Asia-san," she said at last, her voice still polite but tight. "I cannot understand your decision. While I admire your faith in the Almighty, I must ask what He has done to warrant this. Where was He when you were almost sacrificed by the Fallen? He certainly didn't come when you were excommunicated for practicing what He preached."
Her words sharpened as she continued.
"Even now, you are in danger from people who seek to control you and your power. The Church has abandoned you. So you are alone. You will be in danger. You will hunger and be in pain. I offer you protection against all of that. Safety. Power. And the chance to enact real change if you work hard enough."
Her tone lacked cruelty. But it lacked warmth as well. She could not reconcile this refusal.
Asia looked at her. Not with anger. Not even pity. But with peace.
"I don't follow Him because He spares me from pain," she said. "I follow Him because He walked through it first. Because He didn't choose power or safety or fame. He chose love. He chose the cross."
Her hands trembled slightly.
But her voice did not.
"I'm not alone. Even if I suffer. Even if I starve. Even if I die. I'm still His. And that is enough for me."
Rias said nothing.
She knew she had lost.
I was pleased by Asia's refusal, even if her reasoning felt naive. Still, she had chosen her own path. And that, above all else, I respected. To choose your own fate, knowingly and willingly, was the only act in this world that bore the weight of dignity.
"Well, it seems this business is done with," I said, rising from my seat. "Let's go, Asia."
But before I could take a step, I noticed Issei hesitating, his eyes darting toward me. He wanted to speak. I gave Asia a small nod, and she, always polite, bowed to the others before quietly stepping out.
Only then did Issei approach.
"I… I wanted to thank you," he said, voice brittle. "For helping me. For helping Asia. When I couldn't. You risked your life to protect her… Thank you very much."
He bowed, Sincerely.
"Don't worry about it," I replied. "Everyone needs help here and there."
And I meant it. The words weren't warm, but they were honest.
He looked up. I saw the tears gathering in his eyes. The raw, unfiltered emotion he never seemed to hide.
"Buchou…" he said, turning to Rias.
His voice cracked. "Can you train me?"
Tears spilled freely now. No shame. No reservation. "I don't ever want to feel weak again. Not being able to save the people I care about because I'm too weak."
He was sobbing. "I don't ever want to feel that again."
"You are not weak, Issei," Rias said calmly, her voice low and comforting.
A practiced tone. Gentle. "You've only been a devil for less than two months. That is nothing in the grand scheme of things. It is normal to lose to a trained exorcist. They are our natural enemies, after all."
"Haruki has been a devil for the same amount of time, yet…" Issei began bitterly.
"Don't compare yourself to Haruki," Rias interrupted. "He is not normal."
"Freak of nature," Koneko commented flatly.
That earned a dry smile from me.
"It's not just that I was weak. I was also a coward," Issei continued. "I left Asia there to that monster. If Haruki hadn't interfered… I can't imagine what they would have done to her."
So that was the root of it. Not just powerlessness, but the shame of survival.
Misplaced. But understandable.
I sighed, then addressed him directly.
"Issei," I said, voice calm, measured, "I understand your frustration. But you're being unnecessarily hard on yourself."
He looked up. I held his gaze.
"You are no coward, far from it. You were ready to fight that lunatic for Asia. You took light bullets for her. Those are not the actions of a coward."
I let the words hang, then continued.
"You feel guilty because you left Asia in what you believe was a horrific situation. But what could you have done had you stayed?"
Rhetorical. Cruel in its precision. Necessary.
"You didn't have the power to defeat that exorcist, not as you are now. All you would've done is complicate things for Rias and the others."
He flinched, but didn't deny it.
"No, the decision to follow Rias was not cowardice.You made the only logical decision, retreat, regroup, return stronger."
It is hypocritical coming from me but my decision could have easily gone south, it was reckless.
I believed that they would save her. Because In the original timeline, they did. A bit late. She had to be reincarnated as a devil. But they saved her.
"Don't torment yourself with hypotheticals." I said, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Instead, focus on the future. Become strong. Become someone who can change the outcome."
He stared at me, silent, breathing heavily through his grief.
"It's like Haruki said, Issei-kun," Akeno added, stepping forward gently. "Focus on becoming strong, so you can prevent situations like this."
"And we will help with that," Kiba added with a calm smile.
Rias smiled. "You're not alone in this."
Koneko nodded.
Issei broke down completely then, sobbing with unrestrained grief and relief.
That was my cue. I gave my farewells with the appropriate politeness and left to find Asia.
--------------------------------------------------------
I walked the corridor. She was already waiting for me, hands folded politely, the air around her serene and expectant. Asia Argento. Fragile in appearance, yet curiously defiant. We began walking together. A few scattered words passed between us, trivial, harmless. Then, as if choosing the right moment with care, she glanced at me.
"Do you not approve of my decision?" she asked with genuine curiosity.
"Does it matter what I think?" I said. "It is your own life, after all."
"It does! That is why I am asking," she replied quickly, with a trace of anxiety.
"I see," I said. "Well, to be honest with you, I am extremely happy with your decision. That you would reject slavery in comfort in favor of freedom in peril, I find admirable. For I am the same."
Her lips curved, faintly amused. "But?"
"I am not sure about your reason for the rejection," I said, keeping my tone deliberate.
"How so? You do not agree that I give myself fully to the Lord and His teaching?" she asked, eyes open, voice soft.
We had spoken of God before. She knew my stance, or thought she did.
"As you know, I was Orthodox Christian," I began, a restrained smile forming. "Yet there is a reason I left it back then."
It had been in my first life. Back before I was reincarnated into a fictional world.
"You see, I believe Christ expected too much of humanity when He refused the temptation of the serpent in the desert. His teachings are inhuman."
"Inhumane? He expected too much from us? What do you mean?" Asia asked, more intrigued than offended.
"To preface my argument, I should say that this reasoning was before I knew of the supernatural. Or the immortality of the soul. Still, some of it holds."
I paused. She waited.
"I must make you one confession," I said quietly. "I have never grasped how someone can truly love their neighbors. It seems to me that those closest are the hardest to love, while those far away can more easily inspire affection. I once heard of a holy man who, when approached by a sick beggar, took him into his bed, embraced him, and breathed into his mouth, a breath foul with decay and disease. I am certain that act was not born of genuine love, but of self-imposed suffering. A torment inflicted for the sake of duty, a ritual compelled by faith. Because, to love a person sincerely, one must not see them fully. The moment their true face is revealed, love withers away."
"Father Vasco has talked of that more than once," Asia said. "He too said that the face of a man often hinders those not practiced in love. But still… There's a great deal of love in mankind. Almost Christ-like love. I know that myself, Haruki."
"Honestly, I don't understand love for humanity. Most people don't. Maybe it's a flaw. Or perhaps it's just our nature. Christ-like love? That is a miracle. And miracles don't belong on earth. Christ was divine. We are not. Say I suffer, deeply. No one else can feel it. They are not me. Worse, they don't even acknowledge it. Why? Perhaps I smell bad. Or my face offends them. Perhaps I once inconvenienced them. They'll tolerate my hunger because it makes them feel powerful when they feed me. But suffering for an idea? They'll scoff at that. Especially if my appearance does not fit their idea of a 'noble sufferer.' And so they withhold their compassion, not from malice, but from instinct. It is easy to love mankind in theory. Or from afar. Up close? It is unbearable. Perhaps if beggars wore silk and danced like actors, we'd admire them. But love them? Never."
She didn't speak. So I did.
"But enough of that. I simply wanted to show you my perspective. I meant to speak of the suffering of mankind generally, but we had better confine ourselves to the sufferings of the few. That narrows the scope of my argument to a tenth."
I slowed my steps.
"Haruki," Asia said slowly, "what are you trying to say?"
"I think, and this was before I became aware of the supernatural, that if the devil doesn't exist, but man has created him, then he has created him in his own image and likeness."
"Just as he did God, then?" she asked gently.
"'It's wonderful how you can turn words,' as Polonius says in Hamlet," I replied, amused. "But let me make my case."
"I read about a cartel execution in Mexico. The victim was forced to dig his own grave while his family watched on livestream. His child handed him the shovel. When he collapsed, they shot the child first. Then made him finish digging. A lesson, they said, in obedience."
I didn't pause. Her silence was not interruption.
"In North Korea, a man was executed for owning a Bible. But that was not enough. His family was made to watch. Then they were arrested, his wife, his parents, his children, and sent to camps. Multi-generational punishment. His grandson will die behind wire for a book he never read."
"In the Congo, entire villages have become graveyards of the living. Rape as weapon, rape as policy. Limbs hacked off, daughters defiled in front of their mothers. Acid poured inside women. That was not rage. That was a decision."
"Cruelty, when systemic, isn't chaos. It's a theater. Rehearsed. Enjoyed. They say cruelty is animalistic. No. That dishonors animals. No wolf invented mockery. But a man will force you to laugh before he slits your throat."
Asia stared at me. Her expression was soft, pained.
"I do not understand," she said slowly. "I know there are horrible people. But there are just as many good people. A lot of people love humanity."
"There is no law of nature that man should love mankind," I said evenly. "If love has ever existed, it did so only because men believed in immortality. The idea that something matters beyond death. That belief is the root of all moral law."
"And if you destroy that belief, if you sever the connection to immortality, then not only love, but every force sustaining the world collapses. Then, nothing is immoral. Everything becomes lawful. Even cannibalism. For the one who denies God, who denies immortality, the law must invert. Everything is permitted."
Asia's voice trembled, raw with desperation. "Will you stop speaking in riddles and metaphor? Can you tell me what you mean exactly?"
I inclined my head slightly. Her plea was genuine, perhaps even pitiable, but I was in no mood to simplify anything.
"Listen, Asia," I began, my voice measured, almost detached. "I only spoke of those examples to make the argument clearer. The world is soaked in suffering, most of it incomprehensible. Maybe we brought it on ourselves. We were given paradise and chose freedom instead, knowing it would lead to pain. Fine. Then let men be blamed. But the children didn't choose anything. They suffer too. Why? For harmony? For some future justice? I understand cause and effect, but what comfort is that to someone who's been broken?"
The words came easily now. I had rehearsed this line of thought too many times in silence.
"I don't want justice in the abstract, in some far-off heaven. I want to see it here. In this world. With my own eyes. They say it will all make sense one day, that every horror will be redeemed in some final revelation where the victim embraces the torturer and says, 'You are just, O Lord.' Maybe it will happen. Maybe I'll even be there. But I don't want it. I can't accept a world where harmony is built on the backs of the innocent. I don't care if it's hell or paradise, nothing can make those tears right. Not vengeance. Not forgiveness. Not even divine justice. And if someone tells me this is the price for salvation, then I reject the salvation. Out of love for humanity, I refuse that kind of peace."
I let the weight of it hang. I didn't raise my voice. I didn't need to.
Asia looked down, the conflict on her face delicate, almost reverent.
"That's rebellion," she murmured. "Fully understanding God yet rejecting him, like Lucifer."
"Rebellion?" I repeated, without mockery. "I am sorry you call it that."
My voice softened, becoming almost sincere.
"One can hardly be happy in rebellion. And I want to be happy."
I turned toward her fully now. She was listening. Still confused, but listening.
"Tell me yourself. I challenge you. Answer. Imagine that you are creating a fabric of human destiny with the object of making men happy in the end, giving them peace and rest at last, but that it was essential and inevitable to torture to death only one tiny creature, that baby beating its breast with its fist, for instance, and to found that edifice on its unavenged tears. Would you consent to be the architect on those conditions? Tell me. And tell the truth."
Asia's lips parted, barely a whisper:
"No. I wouldn't consent."
I nodded slowly. "And can you say that the virtuous men, for whom you are building it, would agree to accept their happiness on the foundation of the unexpiated blood of a little victim? And accepting it, would remain happy forever?"
She hesitated, then—
"No, I can't say that… for they wouldn't accept it."
I folded my hands behind my back.
"But I am rambling now," I admitted, the heat in my chest slowly fading. "What I should explain is why I think Christ was cruel to humanity and expected too much when he rejected Satan's offer."
The subject has always fascinated me. I had thought through it from every angle.
"The three temptations by the serpent were, to my understanding, the following," I began, speaking now as if recounting a philosophical case study. "The first temptation was simple: Turn these stones into bread. Which means: Give people what they truly want: security, not freedom. And he refused. He chose freedom, thinking man would value it."
Asia was silent. Her eyes were wide, locked onto me.
"But freedom terrifies people. Most don't want to choose. They want to be fed, led, and comforted. They'll trade liberty for certainty any day. Had He given them bread, they'd have followed Him like sheep, grateful and obedient. But He offered them the burden of conscience, and let them starve for it, believing faith bought by bread is no true faith."
I stepped forward, the words sharpened by conviction.
"For centuries, men have killed each other not for truth, but for certainty, for something all can worship together. They want unity, not truth. He knew this. But instead of building that unity through bread and power, He gave them divine freedom, impossible for the weak, unbearable for the masses. He hoped they'd love Him freely. But they'd rather be enslaved with purpose than free in confusion. In bread there was offered Him an invincible banner: give bread, and man will worship Him, for nothing is more certain than bread. Yet He rejects it. Acting as if He did not love humanity. Instead of giving them comfort and security, He gave them what they could not bear, freedom."
I let the silence gather between us before continuing.
"When the serpent said: 'Throw yourself from the temple, and the angels will catch you,' Christ refused. He would not prove His divinity with a miraculous display. TThat was noble, but naïve."
I studied Asia's face. She looked both entranced and unnerved.
"Christ believed humanity could love God freely without needing proof. That faith would be more meaningful if unforced. But people are not gods. When in doubt, fear, or pain, they don't cling to faith, they demand signs. People crave miracles. Visible, tangible proof that someone is in control. And if God doesn't provide it, they'll fall for anything. Cults. Superstition. Conspiracies. Magical promises of salvation. They want to believe in power they can see."
I shook my head slightly. "Christ denied that power, and in doing so, denied most people the faith they needed. He expected too much. He refused to manipulate people's faith with spectacle. But the human heart can't survive without miracles."
I noticed the confusion on her face deepened.
"Bow down to me, and I'll give you all the kingdoms of the world," I said. "That was the third temptation. Christ turned it down. He refused to rule by force. He didn't take political or military power. Instead, He offered freedom: the ability to choose love, to choose truth.But people don't want freedom. They want unity, peace, and someone to follow. And the best way to unify them isn't love or truth. It's power. It's control. Christ could've created a kingdom of peace by ruling the world. Instead, He let humanity wander in confusion, division, and war."
Asia finally spoke again, hesitant but direct.
"But I do not understand," she said. "Are you not one who always advocates for freedom? After all, Rias-san offered you all of this if you gave her your freedom, and you rejected it. So how can you criticize Christ for doing the same?"
I nodded, calmly. "Oh, I value freedom above all. Yet I still say Christ's decision was cruelty disguised as love."
I gazed at her quietly for a moment. "Tell me: how many do you think can bear the cross and suffering and still have the fortitude to reject Rias's offer? Not many. And those that do are more like gods than men. People like you, Asia, who can have faith without expecting anything."
She seemed unsure what to say. So I said it to her.
"But what about everyone else? Those that are strong may be only a few millions. What of the billions who couldn't live like that? Who couldn't carry such a burden? Are they to be condemned because they were born weak? Because they couldn't accept a gift that feels more like a curse? Did He come only for the strong? Only for the chosen few? And if so, what kind of love is that?"
My voice rose, not in anger, but in sorrow masked as fury.
And then Asia's voice broke through, trembling, tear-soaked.
"Oh! Oh! How kind you are, Haruki," she cried. "Yet oh, how I feel sad for you, for you will be most unhappy for that!"
"Unhappy? Why is that?" I asked, genuinely curious.
She looked at me with eyes filled with something I could not name.
"For you have chosen despair, you love freedom yet are angry there is suffering due to it" said Asia sadly. "You could have dismissed Christianity and faith as outright ridiculous and become an atheist. Or you could have reasoned yourself into justifying everything, for you are smart. Either of those bring at least some measure of peace of mind. But you… you have chosen to fully accept the Christian worldview - such as God, the necessity of suffering, freedom - while at the same time absolutely refusing to be reconciled to it."
Tears ran down her cheeks.
And I stood there, silent. And we walked in silence after that.
--------------------------------------------
It was night. I took to the sky, as I always did. I wanted to clear my mind after the conversation with Asia. The city stretched beneath me in jagged lines and shifting pulses, glowing faintly like veins beneath worn skin. But I wasn't looking at it. Not really. My gaze was fixed on the open sky above, the vast canopy of night that hung eternal and still, without end or boundary.
The wind coiled around me, cool and sharp. It filled my chest and carried the tension from my bones, replacing it with something clean. I beat my wings once, hard, rising higher, and then tipped forward into a dive, letting speed pull the breath from my lungs. The rush was immediate. My blood answered it.
A spiral. A twist. A sudden stall and recovery. It was a dance, I suppose. Not elegant. Just precise. Every movement reminded me that gravity only matters when you let it.
Below, the noise of the living continued without me. The city never rested. But up here, I wasn't bound to it. Here I was untethered. Unreachable. Every movement was mine. Every decision irrevocable. And in those seconds of flight, in that rush of perfect disconnection, I was everything I wanted to be, free.
I glanced downward, not to rejoin, but to observe. My sight, honed by demonic nature, cut through the haze and distance with ease. And there she stood, on a balcony draped in moonlight, crimson hair unmistakable even in the dark. Rias Gremory. Draped in a nightgown, her silhouette drawn in soft outline against the glow of her room.
She'd noticed me. She waved.
I angled my wings and descended without hesitation. I landed beside her with deliberate grace, letting the wind billow around me before folding in silence.
"Hail, fair princess, thou fairest of all," I said, my voice dipped in exaggerated archaic mockery.
"Hail to thee! Fair prince of the sky," she answered, her tone equally theatrical.
"I hope the evening grace thee with love and night," I said, smiling like a fool.
She burst out laughing. "Love and night? Really? That doesn't even make sense."
"Well, it made you laugh, so it achieved its intention," I replied smoothly.
"Is that so? I suppose it did," she said, still amused.
She turned to look out over the city. I waited.
"Why do you always fly at night?" she asked.
"Because I enjoy flying. The freedom it gives me. It's… exhilarating," I said.
"That's it?" she asked, her voice laced with playful disbelief.
"What did you expect? That I was patrolling the city like some kind of superhero, looking for criminals to beat up?"
"Well, yeah. After all, superheroes are very cool. And very hot," she said with a teasing smile.
"Are they now? Well, sweetheart, I may not be a hero, but I can perhaps save you from whatever it is that has been making you frown," I said, deliberately overdramatic.
Rias laughed again. "Why, thank you, brave knight," she said with mocking courtesy. "But I would bear my burden alone."
"I see. You're the broody heroine type, then," I said holding my chin.
"No way! I'm the cheerful main heroine whom the hero instantly falls for because she is so beautiful," she said, still smiling.
"And I'm the one they call prideful," I replied, voice flat, though the corner of my mouth tugged.
To tell the truth both of my parents are good looking. My father, especially, is quite proud of his looks. It is a vanity I have inherited.
"Well, it was you who declared that you could defeat any student in any area of interest they choose," Rias said, clearly enjoying herself.
"Well, I did defeat them," I said, smug. It was true. Last year was… productive.
"The way I remember the result," she said with a smirk, "was you crying about losing at chess to Sona."
"Because she cheated. And I was proven correct when she turned out to be a devil," I replied, smiling.
"And besides, even then, I only lost seven out of ten games," I added proudly.
"You didn't even know back then that she was a devil. You just said she cheated because she beat you," accused Rias.
"Well, I can only lose due to cheating," I countered without shame.
"Your arrogance knows no bounds, huh? If you lose, it can only mean your opponent cheated, not that they were better?" she asked, amused.
"Well, yes. I'm simply that good," I said.
"Your superiority complex is not endearing at all," said Rias, dry as ash.
"I disagree. There is nothing complex about my superiority," I said, smiling, secure in the knowledge that I was entirely, absolutely correct.
She laughed.
Then, without warning, I touched her shoulder and shouted, "Tag."
I launched into the sky
"I am an adult," Rias said, her voice smug. "I am above such childish games," she added proudly.
"Just say you're afraid you won't be able to touch me," I said, deliberately provocative as I hovered above her, arms folded in exaggerated calm.
I rotated slowly in midair, as if in thought. "Come to think of it, ever since I reached high-class in power, you haven't challenged me to anything."
I placed a finger on my chin, feigning contemplation. "Could it be that the Gremory heiress is a fraud who only bullies those vastly weaker than her? A demonic power merchant?"
That did it.
"Well, you got it, you bastard!" Rias shouted, wings bursting from her back in a rush of scarlet.
She flew at me with impressive speed.
I darted away, laughing, not the kind that stemmed from joy, but from the rare thrill of provoking her into something unplanned. It was fun. The rush of being pursued by someone powerful, someone I didn't have to hold back against.
The night air howled past me as I twisted through the sky. I spun through corkscrews, dropped sharply, then shot upward again. Rias pursued like a guided missile, focused and faster than I expected. We looped around a bell tower, skimmed over the treetops. I folded my wings sharply and dove beneath her outstretched hand.
She was relentless. I barely dodged another lunge before realizing, too late, that the trap had already been laid.
A glowing net of raw crimson shimmered below me. Power of Destruction. Spread thin across a wide arc.
By the time I changed trajectory, she had curved around and crashed directly into me full force. The air left my lungs as we spiraled, and then, we tumbled downward, spiraling until we hit the grass below, tangled together.
We were laughing. Breathless, bruised, foolish.
She sat on top of me now, victorious, smugly perched on my stomach like a conquering queen. Her breath was shallow but pleased.
"And what were you saying again?" she said, seated triumphantly on my stomach.
My back was flat against the ground. She wore a nightgown that was either designed without modesty in mind or simply disregarded convention altogether. No bra. No underwear. That was not difficult to observe.
"Like what you see?" she whispered, seductive and close.
"I would have to be blind not to," I answered without hesitation.
She blushed, just a little, and rolled off me. She lay beside me now, on her back in the grass, looking up into the stars. I watched her. She didn't speak at first.
"I guess Asia's refusal made me feel like a bit of a failure," Rias said, eventually.
I said nothing.
"She's the only one I had to convince. The others… they were already on death's door. There weren't any negotiations. It was a rescue or death." Her voice was measured, but her pride had taken a blow. "But the first time I had to actually persuade someone… I failed. She wasn't even moved by the offer."
"Your offer was very good," I said honestly. "If it helps, most people would've happily jumped at an opportunity like that."
"But not good enough for Asia. Or for you," she murmured.
"Why, darling," I said with mock sweetness, "have you already given up on convincing me to join your peerage?"
"Never! I haven't even begun yet," she replied, a bright determination in her voice.
She turned on her side to face me. Her gaze lingered, studying.
"Really? Well, I must say, you've been doing a mediocre job so far," I said.
"You haven't seen my final form yet," she declared.
I chuckled lightly. "There are some people who have given themselves in pursuit of something higher.They'll break before they bend in its pursuit."
"But is that a good thing?" she asked, her eyes narrowing. "Isn't it better to live in peace and happiness rather than suffer for a lofty goal or idea they may never reach?"
"Perhaps. Everyone approaches life in their own way. There is no definitive good or bad way to live. It is, after all, yours."
She was still looking at me. "But why would anyone refuse a life of happiness and comfort, and choose hardship instead? What reason could there possibly be?"
"Integrity," I answered.
I turned my eyes to her. She met my gaze. We remained like that, quiet, for a long moment. She was beautiful. That thought was incidental, but persistent.
She turned back to the stars.
We lay there in silence.
"Why do you have to have an arranged marriage, anyway?" I asked eventually. "I understand the logic, pure-blooded devils are few, and the families want to preserve themselves, but surely there are alternatives to forcing you to marry someone you don't like?"
She paused. "I suppose there's no harm in telling you."
"The decreasing number of purebloods isn't the whole reason. The House of Gremory is going extinct."
I glanced at her, intrigued.
"What do you mean? From what I read in History and Lineage of the Pillar Houses, your father, grandmother, and the original Gremory are still alive."
"You actually read that boring book? Respect," she said with a laugh. "But what I meant was something else."
She grew serious. "Do you know what the demonic trait of House Gremory is?"
"Something to do with divination, I believe."
"That's right. The power to see past, present, and future. Quite handy," she said bitterly. "The problem is… no one has inherited it in a while. Those who did were targeted during the Great War and killed. Since then, nothing."
"For real? I see. So that's…"
"Yeah," she said. "As you know, in order for a House to be considered a Pillar, they must have enough wielders of their Lucifer-granted trait. Otherwise, they're declared extinct. It's happened to many."
"But your brother and you, neither of you inherited it?"
"No. We both only have the Power of Destruction from House Bael. That's why some mock us, saying we're just a vassal house of Bael now."
Her voice was bitter.
She exhaled. "The only reason we're not considered extinct is because my ancestor, the original Gremory, still lives and possesses the ability. My father is desperate to save our house in case something happens to her."
"So my father schemed with the House of Phenex. He wants me to marry."
"But why them? What's special about the Phenex line?"
"Well… the theory is that their immortality and healing, being the opposite of Bael's power of destruction, might neutralize it. The hypothetical child between me and a Phenex would inherit neither destruction nor healing, but awaken the ancient Gremory trait instead."
Her tone was flat, like she was reciting doctrine she'd memorized but never believed in.
So that's the gamble.
I absorbed that. It added complexity, but it also raised questions.
Though I now wonder how Issei managed to disrupt such a carefully laid plan. Surely both houses would've responded violently. Or was it that they allowed it, because of his potential?
"Well, talk about a complicated love life," I said dryly.
"Tell me about it," said Rias.
"But it doesn't matter. I'll grow strong and break off the engagement."
"How do you plan to do that?"
"I have time until university ends. By then I'll be eligible to compete in the Rating Game. I'll challenge him formally. He won't be able to decline. I'll win. I'll free myself."
I smiled faintly.
After that, we talked about lighter things. Manga. Music. Nonsense.
We talked for hours.
AN: Another chapter, this one is quite heavy on dialogue, so I hope it doesn't come off as boring. While writing Rias's offer to Asia, I was struck by how much it resembled the three temptations of Christ in the desert. I couldn't resist drawing a parallel in Asia's response — a small nod, not meant to be overtly religious. That said, the following conversation between Asia and Haruki might feel a bit steeped in theological undertones. I tried to strike a balance: it's not about preaching, but rather revealing Haruki's inner contradictions.
Haruki is a former Christian, and I wanted to show that his beliefs or fragments of them, still shape his worldview, even when he acts in ways that contradict them. As Asia notes, he's full of contradictions.
If you're concerned the story might become overly religious, don't worry , that won't be a recurring focus. This scene was more about character development than theology.
I also tried to reveal a more nuanced side of Haruki here. Yes, he's prideful, arrogant, and sharp-tongued, but he also cares. About his sister. About humanity, though, interestingly, more as a concept than as individual people. In his view, a true rebel can't afford to be happy. That tension is something I want to explore further.
Regarding the Rias engagement subplot: I always found it a bit vague in the source material, it mostly boils down to "pure-blooded children" without deeper explanation. I've tried to expand on that a bit here, especially through the lens of noble obligations and legacy.
As for the Gremory ability, I based it on how Gremory is described in the Ars Goetia. I could've sworn I read a fic with a similar concept once, but I can't remember which one.
And no, Haruki didn't forget to call his sister. That scene just didn't make the cut this time. But he definitely called.
Thanks again for reading.