It isn't because I underestimate myself, but because I understand my limits. Courage without calculation is not courage—it is an invitation to death.
It is true that, aside from preparing to create a weapon-type Cursed Tool, I am still far from ready to face greater threats.
My experience is still limited, my reflexes still need to be sharpened, and my understanding of the many variations of Cursed Spirit abilities is not yet broad enough. Power without thorough preparation will only end as arrogance, and arrogance on the battlefield has only one conclusion: death.
Besides that, I also need to create sensor- and tracking-type Cursed Tools—something capable of detecting the presence of Cursed Spirits around me, even before I can directly sense them myself.
I need a device that can give me early warnings of high-grade Cursed Spirits, one that can mark the direction of their presence, the distance between me and them, and perhaps even the level of threat that the tool can identify. That way, I won't have to rely entirely on instinct, which can sometimes be a fraction of a second too late.
And it doesn't stop there. I also have to think about defensive-type Cursed Tools, as well as escape-type ones. Protection to withstand sudden attacks and hold the line in battle, and tools to break away when a situation spirals beyond control.
Yes, an escape tool is absolutely necessary. Survival is far more important than proving a kind of bravery that would only end in futility.
After all, my philosophy is simple: when facing danger, run. Do not concern yourself with strangers.
That principle may sound cold, even cruel, but to me, life is the only capital that cannot be replaced. Without life, there is no purpose, no plan, no future worth striving for.
I do not want to die for someone with whom I share no bond whatsoever. However, if the children from the orphanage and Yukina are in danger, then my decision will change completely. At that point, fear will be pushed aside, replaced by an uncompromising resolve.
In such a situation, I would risk everything to let them escape and survive.
If I alone were to be trapped in a desperate battle with no way out, then fighting to the death would be the only option. Not because I consider myself brave, but because there are things more precious than my own safety—the safety of those I care about.
Because I cannot accept the reality of them having to pay the price for my weakness. If they were to die because of me, that thought would loop endlessly in my mind, pressing against my chest with a painful weight of guilt.
If one day they are injured because I am not strong enough, because I was too late or made the wrong decision, then any excuse I could offer would mean nothing.
My steps slowed, until I finally stopped, when I saw a little girl eating ice cream with her parents by the roadside.
Her small laughter was light and innocent, as if the world held no threats at all. Her tiny hands carefully held the ice cream cone, while her parents watched her with gentle, affectionate smiles.
Hm? Is it just my imagination, or do I feel like I've seen that pink-haired girl before? The color of her hair stood out amid the otherwise dull crowd of the late afternoon. In this crossover anime world, how many female characters have pink hair?
Damn, there are far too many pink-haired women. From the sweet to the dangerous, from the weak to those capable of destroying the world. A trait that should have been simple instead opened an endless sea of possibilities.
For a moment, my thoughts drifted, trying to connect that face with memories of the many worlds that might overlap with one another. Fragments of characters, powers, and stories flickered past like pages of a book being flipped too quickly.
In the end, I let out a small breath. Forget it. For now, it would be better to think about my own life. Thinking too much about endless possibilities would only blur the steps I needed to take right now.
I continued on my way until I finally arrived in front of the orphanage gate. The building stood in simple dignity—the paint beginning to fade, the corners no longer perfect—yet it had always felt warm to me.
In the yard, the children were playing happily, running around without a care, their laughter echoing through the afternoon air that was starting to cool, mingling with the whisper of the wind and the faint creak of an old iron swing.
The remaining sunlight reflected on their faces, tracing a golden glimmer in eyes that were honest and full of hope. That sight, for some reason, always made my chest feel calmer, as if an invisible hand were soothing the waves inside me.
When they noticed me, a few of them immediately greeted me with bright expressions, calling my name while waving their hands. Some jogged over in hurried little steps, others simply smiled widely from afar, but their warmth was just as real.
I returned their greetings with a small smile and a light nod before stepping inside the orphanage. For a moment, all my unease about Cursed Spirits, battles, and the future seemed to fade away, dissolved by the sound of laughter and a simplicity that was quietly comforting.
As I entered, I saw Yukina cooking in the kitchen. The stove burned steadily, a pot simmered gently, and the warm aroma of food immediately greeted my senses, making my stomach stir slightly. The scent of spices and broth blended with the evening air, creating a feeling of home that was hard to replace with anything else.
"I'm back," I said simply to Yukina. She immediately replied with a calm smile, as always—simple, sincere, and somehow always making my thoughts feel lighter.
After that, I went straight upstairs to the second floor. My footsteps echoed softly on the wooden stairs, each step seeming to mark a transition from the dangerous outside world to my quieter private space.
Inside my room, I headed straight for the bathroom. The water flowed, washing away the sweat and dust that had clung to my body all day. The warm stream carried off the remnants of training, tension, and grime from my skin.
After cleaning myself, I came out and quickly put on more comfortable clothes, the fabric light against my still-warm skin.
My body felt lighter, even though the fatigue remained, lingering in muscles that had been pushed hard. There was a dull ache in my shoulders and back, a reminder that progress never comes without a price.
I lay down on my bed, staring toward the window of my all-too-familiar room. From there, the evening sky slowly faded, the orange hues turning into a deep purple.
Now I had reached the initial stage: I possessed an Innate Technique and was able to use it fairly well.
Even though I was still studying every detail of my Innate Technique, at the very least I had stepped away from zero. I was no longer merely surviving; I was beginning to build a foundation to become stronger, little by little, in a way I could rely on.
"If I think about it… who is the strongest in this world?" The question slipped out as a soft murmur, almost swallowed by the silence of the room. My mind drifted through countless possibilities.
Could it be someone from High School DxD? Hm… or perhaps someone from another supernatural or fantasy anime whose existence in this world I did not even know?
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