- Hey, so now we are to see Issei show why he is the real deal Lol. Authors Out. -
The day after Asia's moving to my house, Kuoh settled back into its routine like a cat reclaiming a sunspot—hallway chatter ricocheting off lockers, bells pretending to be law, teachers dealing cards of homework with the mercy of cardsharps. It was almost enough to convince a person nothing under the surface existed.
Almost.
I felt it the instant the third-period bell rang.
Not a sound. A pressure change. A ripple sliding through the air like a silk scarf drawn across the skin, heavy with perfume and pedigree. It rolled down the corridor and into my chest with the lazy arrogance of nobility that had never been told "no" and believed that meant "cannot." It was demonic, yes—but not the clean, measured signature I'd learned to associate with Sona Sitri's quiet, methodical stewardship. This was a different beast: fiery, proud, theatrical as hell.
[That aura… flamboyant, self-centered, reeks of infernal ego.]
Yeah, I thought, grim and already annoyed. That's a Gremory problem.
My pencil paused over an equation that suddenly felt hypothetical. The window was open a crack; a slice of autumn air made the curtains gossip. I closed my notebook with a sound that made the guy in front of me flinch and then pretend he hadn't.
"Looks like peace didn't last long," I muttered to nobody, stood up between the slow and the fast, and drifted for the door. The teacher said my name with the kind of question mark that means "bathroom," and I gifted him a nod that said "A+ inference." My good reputatoin gave freedom to come and go and the teachers wouldn't even question me most of the time.
The Occult Research Club's old building sat at the edge of campus like a Gothic afterthought someone had tried to turn into a rumor and failed. Ivy had learned calligraphy across its stone; the windows had learned how to keep secrets by looking like they knew more than they did. Students whispered about it as I passed: rich kids and weirdos, cosplay and candles. They weren't entirely wrong.
The knob gave under my hand like it knew me and hated that fact. I stepped inside and let the door whisper shut behind me. Going up the stairs, I could already feel the tension in the main room.
The room had that lounge-meets-library vibe devils love: velvet chairs that understood preference, tea steam doing choreography over porcelain, a chess set in the coffee table arranged mid-argument. Kiba stood near the window with the posture of a knight doing penance for making posture look easy. Akeno balanced two cups on a tray and smiled like she'd invented secrets. Koneko perched on the corner, expression the same as always—blank with nuance.
Rias Gremory waited near her desk, crimson hair poured like blood over one shoulder, blue-green eyes sharp as winter sea light. Across from her, draped over a couch like it was a throne he wasn't paying rent for, lounged a blond devil with a posture that could be taught as a course in Entitlement 101. He had the look of a man who'd never been made to hold anything fragile without breaking it to see what sound it made. He swirled tea like it was wine.
Riser Phenex.
Even without Ddraig, the smug rolled off him like cologne you could taste.
[Oh, this fool. I remember killing many of his type. Arrogance without wisdom. The kind dragons eat for breakfast.]
And sitting next to him was a bombshell of a woman, or devil in this case. It was Yubelluna, with her purple-wine long flowing hair, eyes of the same color as her hair, and two massive boobs that her flamboyant clothes made little work to cover.
"Wow," I said, because sometimes your mouth needs to pave the way for your hands. "I walk in and immediately smell burning feathers and bad perfume."
The room remembered how to be quiet. Rias blinked; surprise flickered and was smothered by composure. Riser's smirk tightened like a bad facelift.
"And who, pray tell," he drawled, because of course he did, "is this peasant?"
"Name's Hyoudou Issei," I said, hands in pockets like I had manners and was trying them out. "I was passing by and felt the temperature rise. Thought the school had a fire hazard, which could be dangerous. Turns out it's just you, so nothing to worry about in this case."
Rias almost laughed and then filed the laugh under 'Later'. Akeno's smile put on three new layers and wrote a poem. Koneko blinked once, which, from her, was applause, and Kiba just smirked.
Riser stood—casual discarded like a coat—and fire flared at his fingertips in an "I Am Introducing Myself" kind of way. "You dare mock Riser, a noble of the House of Phenex?"
"I dare a lot of things," I said, tone flat enough to iron with. "You should see me on a bad day."
"Hyoudou-kun," Rias said, exhaling, amusement fighting reflex. "This isn't a place for humans."
"Then why do you let this retard stink up your school, full of humans, with many sensitive to magic?" I nodded at Riser. "Air quality standards apply to everyone."
That earned me a look from Riser that could bend spoons. "Watch your tongue, boy."
"I'm watching it," I said. "Still sharper than yours."
He took a step; his aura crackled; Kiba shifted—subtle, a shadow ready to be a blade. Akeno's eyes warmed in the way lightning does when it decides you deserve it. Koneko's gaze slid to my hands, then to the floor beneath them.
"Do you want to die, human?" Riser asked, like he was asking if I wanted lemon with that.
"Not particularly," I said, and met his eyes like a mirror. "But if you try anything stupid, you'll learn how fast a human can turn a phoenix into fried chicken."
For a beat, he froze—not from fear, but from his brain having to reroute around an unfamiliar fact: someone had spoken to him like gravity.
"Enough," Rias snapped, stepping between us with the authority of a person who has practiced not apologizing for having it. "Riser, leave. This is neither the time nor place for your tantrums."
He glared at her, then at me, flames hissing back into their pockets. "You'll regret this, Rias." He jabbed a finger at me like an accusation trying to be prophecy. "And you—will learn your place."
"I already have one," I said. "It's above yours."
Then came the finale "A Marquis is do not sit above an Emperor, after all."
He frowned significantly, and his magic circle took him in a flash of yellow and orange that tried to trend and didn't. The room exhaled in unison. The scent of singed pride laced the air.
Rias turned toward me, curiosity and admonishment holding hands. "You really have no sense of self-preservation, do you?"
"I just don't like bullies," I said. "And he came in here like someone who calls customer service 'servants.'"
"You shouldn't have interfered," she said, crossing her arms like a shield she didn't fully want. "That was a high-ranking devil."
"Yeah," I said, shrugging. "And he walked away."
Silence tipped from hostile to interested.
"Why did you come here, Hyoudou-kun?" Rias asked, and this time the question had real shape.
"Because I wanted to make a deal," I said, and watched the air lean closer.
"A deal?"
"Yeah. I help you with your little chicken problem. In return, I get a favor." I let the word hang—a tool in a glove. "One you owe me later. Redeemable when I decide it counts."
Kiba's eyes flicked; calculation adjusted. Akeno's smile tasted like cinnamon and voltage. Koneko chewed a cookie she hadn't had before and made it look accusatory.
"You would fight a Phenex for a favor?" Rias said, head tilted, weighing not the words but the weight behind them.
"Not for free," I corrected. "But I'm good at cleaning up supernatural messes efficiently. I leave less glitter than most."
She studied me a long moment. She was good at it. She didn't look just at my eyes; she looked at the space around me, at the way my presence pressed against the room. She didn't flinch. She frowned a little—not fear, curiosity with a long-range scope.
"Alright, Hyoudou-kun," she said finally. "If you're so confident… I'll consider your offer."
"That's all I need," I said. "Consideration. It's like money, but polite."
Her mouth quirked. "You are impossible."
"I get that a lot."
The building let me leave without stealing anything from my back. Outside, Kuoh pretended it hadn't just hosted a demonic argument with punchlines. I went back to class, took notes like a person assigned to care, and existed inside a day that was trying very hard.
By dusk, the world had put on its orange light like it owned the patent. I sat at my desk with the window open and the curtain lifting on cue; downstairs, my father committed to a variety show and my mother, patient saint of domestic comedy, committed to tolerating it. In the room down the hall, Asia hummed a melody that sounded like a prayer taking a nap.
The sigil on my wrist ticked faintly under the skin, a Grigori comm puckered into ink. I breathed out and tapped.
"Yo," Azazel answered immediately, lazy as a hammock. "Didn't expect to hear from you this soon. What's up, Red?"
"Just a heads-up," I said. "Devil nobility's making moves in Kuoh. I might have to get involved."
A pause. I could hear him smirking. "Ah, meddling with the Gremory heiress already? I knew you wouldn't stay quiet."
"Call it preventative aggressive diplomacy," I said. "I'll keep it contained. Thought you should know where the lines are being drawn. Or redrawn."
"Noted," Azazel said. "Try not to start a war without me. It hurts my feelings."
"Wouldn't dream of it."
The sigil faded. The sky peeled into night; the first stars threw small knives at the dark and got away with it.
[You've stepped into the devils' game, partner. There's no turning back now.]
Good, I thought, letting the grin happen where no one could grade it. I was getting bored.
[Bored dragons upend kingdoms by accident.]
I'll try to upend only what needs flipping.
[Hnh.]
The house creaked the way content houses creak. I let the peace sit down on my chest and breathed under it.
The next morning put the school back on like a suit. Asia tried to teach her homeroom the Italian for "thank you" and made a friend who decided to like religion again because Asia made it look soft. I corrected a math problem on the board and pretended not to hear the whisper that said "Hyoudou's is actively solving it?" in the tone of someone seeing a dog drive a car very politely. At lunch, Matsuda asked if I'd started working out more because his insecurities needed a hobby. Motohama produced a laminated chart that proved the cafeteria milk was a conspiracy funded by an ancient cabal of cows. I ate, smiled, filed both under "witness protection for normal."
After classes, the campus had that late-afternoon glare that makes everything look like a filtered memory. I felt the Sitri aura before I saw the black hair. Souna Shitori, or more like Sona Sitri, stood near the main path with Tsubaki at her side, posture perfect, gaze direct.
"Hyoudou-kun," she said.
"President," I said, equal weight.
"I hear Argento-san is settling well," she said, like she hadn't orchestrated three of the forms to move faster and two of the teachers to find unexpected compassion.
"She is," I said. "Thank you."
Her glasses caught the light with intent. "If any… unusual difficulties arise, inform the student council. We address matters within school jurisdiction."
"I'll keep that in mind," I said, meaning it and not meaning it, the way people mean weather reports.
Her eyes searched mine for a second—calm intelligence, heiress of a household that prefers spreadsheets to swords, but not naive. She knew there was a tide moving under her campus. She didn't yet know which way it pulled.
"We strive for peace at Kuoh," she said. "Do not mistake that for passivity."
"I don't," I said. "And I won't."
She nodded once and moved on, the crowd parting around her like order making a hallway.
I cut back to the old building at twilight because sometimes it's faster to walk into a storm than wait for it to come looking. The club room was quieter now, the tea cold, the chairs less committed. Rias stood by the window and watched the grounds the way a person looks at a chessboard when she suspects the board has been sabotaged.
"Still considering?" I asked, closing the door behind me with less sound than a question mark.
"I am," she said, not turning yet. "I assume you're not proposing we… eliminate him."
"I'm proposing we end a problem," I said. "Cleanly. With plausible deniability and minimal fire."
She turned, inspecting me the way one inspects a weapon hidden under a coat. "Why help me?"
"Because devil politics don't respect campus boundaries. Because I live here. Because I like my school not smoldering. Because your problem becomes mine if it grows teeth."
She smiled, weary and real. "For a human, you're very strategic."
"For a devil, you're very tired," I said gently, and saw the flicker of truth.
"What do you get out of this?" she asked, back on form.
"The favor," I said. "No timeline. No loopholes. It buys me a hearing when I need it. I won't cash it for anything that spits in your face. I will cash it just for something I need."
"Honest," she said, and the word sounded, coming from her, like a rare spice. "I'll speak to my… family. Discretion will be difficult."
"I'm very good at being a rumor," I said. "Let me handle the ugly parts. You handle the formal ones."
"Hyoudou-kun," she said, and the formal was a little softer now. "Be careful."
"I always am." I said, and left before the ceiling remembered it had eyes.
On the way home, the sky did that trick where it stacked colors like sugar glass—orange, pink, blue—until the whole thing looked fragile enough to shatter. I stopped at a vending machine and swore it had been replaced by a newer model just to unsettle me. Bought a canned coffee; it tasted like if nostalgia were carbonated.
At dinner, Dad tried a joke so bad it cycled back to brilliant; Mom accused him of stealing it from last week; Asia laughed and clapped, then apologized to the joke for encouraging it. Kalawarna took a call on the back porch and turned her face away so the sunset couldn't eavesdrop. I washed dishes carefully because soap bottles get mad when you squeeze them like they owe you rent.
Upstairs, I sat again at the desk, window open to the good kind of cold. I spun the comm sigil out of light lazily with a finger and called Azazel back before I could overthink it.
"Red," he said, and you could hear the grin in the syllable.
"The favor counter's alive," I said. "Devil nobility's in play. It might get theatrical. I'll keep the curtains up."
"You're adorable when you do metaphors," he said. "Play nice. Play meaner if you have to."
"I'll play necessary," I said.
"Ah," he said, tone shifting—scientist considering variables. "Shemhazai says hi. He also says 'don't die' in that voice that sounds like he's scolding a wall."
"Message received."
"And, Red?"
"Yeah?"
"If the Phenex starts to molt on school grounds, please record it."
"Goodnight, Azazel," I said, and killed the sigil before he could convince me to put a GoPro on my gauntlet.
The house sighed itself into midnight. I lay on my back and stared at the ceiling and saw a phoenix feather burn, curl, and fail to learn anything. The dragon in my chest stretched like a cat that owns the house.
[The devil boy reeks of old fire and new stupidity.]
I know.
[His family's flame heals. That makes them brave in the wrong way.]
I know that too. Means you don't teach the lesson once.
[If you engage, do not half-engage. Either ignore or finish.]
No half-measures. Got it.
[And if the red-haired princess accepts your help, remember: her pride is not a weakness. It is armor. Do not try to remove it to make her faster. Teach her to fight in it.]
You've taught queens before?
[I have eaten them and been eaten by their wars. Close enough.]
I laughed into my pillow, quiet enough not to startle the night. Outside, a wind chime bumped once like it had something to add and forgot it. The city felt honest for a second and then remembered to lie.
Morning came on time because sometimes the world does the minimum. I went to school like a boy who could be counted. I turned in a worksheet like a citizen. Asia waved at me from the courtyard with a joy that made the sun glare, jealous. Rias passed by later with Akeno; their conversation paused a fraction too long as they saw me and then continued with the speed of professionals. Kiba asked me if I wanted to join any club and I said no with gratitude. Koneko stole a cookie from my bag I hadn't put there and made me feel like I'd been burgled by a cat.
At lunch, I sat under a tree and ate like people do who believe next meals are guaranteed. Matsuda tried to explain cryptocurrency with boobs to me; my brain scheduled his explanation for deletion. Motohama measured the angle of a shadow and told me tomorrow's weather with 30% confidence and 70% charm. I existed like that for an hour. It helped.
By last period, the ripple came again—less arrogant, more angry. Riser had returned to the Underworld with an offended ego and returned with instructions. That was fine. Instructions can be amended.
After school, I chose a long walk in a neighborhood that wore evening well. I paused at our gate and listened for the wrongness that means the plot has arrived uninvited. Heard only the dishwasher and a sitcom and Asia quietly practicing Latin verbs. Inside, I slid off my shoes, lined them up, washed my hands, joined a life that pretended it was small and therefore mattered immensely.
Later, when the house had been tucked into rooms, I sat with Ashdod again, cloth cool under my fingers. The lance hummed like a glacier choosing to move. I told it nothing, and it agreed anyway. We were learning to be partners in the worst way: by choosing not to be enemies.
[You smiled more today,] Ddraig said, amused, as if pointing out an anomaly.
I did.
[Do it again tomorrow.]
We'll see what the devils allow.
[Dragons do not ask devils what they are allowed.]
No. But good neighbors knock before blowing down walls.
[Hnh.]
The night turned over with the city. Somewhere out there, a phoenix with too many rings and too few lessons told a household council what he planned to do to a red-haired girl, and the council pretended to nod because politics loves a performance. Somewhere closer, a student council president looked out her window and counted responsibilities like stars. Somewhere in my neighborhood, a fallen angel dreamed of strategies that didn't leak, and under my roof, a saint dreamed of dinner at a table she didn't have to leave.
And in my chest, the dragon laughed softly, a sound like thunder deciding to be kind.