3rd Person POV
Issei wakes up after another night lacking sleep, the fear of one day the people of the court coming to take him, and tell his parents about what he was sued for, they are crawling onto his back and choking him, it was terrorizing him.
He walks downstairs, the kitchen smells like breakfast—egg and miso soup, his mom's favorite—but the scent turns his stomach. His father glances up from the newspaper, smiling. "Morning, Issei. Sleep well?" The words feel like barbed wire around his throat. How many more mornings like this before the lawsuit rips it all away?
School is normal, everything is normal, but only numbered, he knows his time is running out and days like this are being counted down hour after hour, until Nami feels like it's the right time to call him to court and play what she recorded, by then his parents will know what kind of son they raised.
Issei sits through classes with the weight of a guillotine blade hanging over his neck. Motohama nudges him during lunch—"Dude, you look like you've seen a ghost"—but the joke falls flat. The cafeteria noise swirls around him, indistinct, until a sharp burst of laughter from the girls' table cuts through. His head jerks up. Nami isn't there—she hasn't been to school since the library—but the empty seat mocks him all the same.
He knows he has to find a way to settle this with Nami without any law involving, or else his entire life would be ruined completely.
Taking out his phone, he looks for the number Nami used to call him last night, his steps quickens frantically as he prays for her to answer "Please, senpai...answer...." A beep....then "Hello, this is Nakamura Akemi speaking, may I ask who you are?"
Issei froze mid-step, the phone pressed too tightly against his ear. Nakamura Akemi—that's Nami's name on papers, people usually call her Nami for short "Nami-senpai, please, can we talk? You don't need to take this to court"
The line crackled with static. Then a sigh—not exasperated, but weary, as if she'd expected this call. "Oh, Issei," Nami said, her voice devoid of its usual playful lilt. Down the hall, students chattered obliviously, their laughter grating against his nerves. "You don't get to decide that anymore. You made your choice in the library."
His throat tightened. "I—I was stupid. I'll delete the video, I swear—"
"deleting the video won't hide the fact that you wanted to use it to force me into submission, Issei, I know what happened in my past and you know that too, yet you tried to use it against me, do you think I'll accept an apology after knowing what you said and did?" The words came crisp through the receiver, each syllable measured like a judge's gavel.
Behind Issei, the school corridor blurred—students milling about, oblivious to the way his knees threatened to buckle. He pressed his back against the cold tile wall, the phone slippery in his sweat-damp grip. "Then...what do you want?" The question tasted like ash.
A pause. Then Nami's exhale crackled through the speaker, edged with something almost like pity. "I want to sue you, that's all, you've done the worst thing you can do to an abused victim, and believe it or not, you're the first one to ever dare doing that, congrats, now you're the first to feel its consequences"
Issei's breath hitched. The tile dug into his shoulder blades as he slid down the wall, knees hitting the linoleum with a dull thud. Around him, the hallway noise dimmed—laughter muffled, footsteps distant—as if he'd been submerged in thick oil.
"Senpai," he rasped, fingers clawing at his collar. "My parents—"
"Should've thought about them before you decided to blackmail me," Nami interrupted, her voice chillingly calm. Somewhere in the background, papers rustled—legal documents, he imagined, stamped with his impending ruin. "Though I'm curious. Did you really think I wouldn't have countermeasures? That I'd just... fold?"
The bell rang overhead, shrill and mocking. Students flooded the corridor, their shadows passing over Issei like specters. Motohama's voice cut through the crowd—"Hey, perv, you good?"—but it sounded miles away.
"Anyway, have to go now, kouhai, enjoy while it lasts~" The line went dead with a soft click—final as a coffin lid. Issei's phone slipped from his fingers, clattering against the linoleum just as Motohama crouched beside him, brows furrowed. "Dude, you're whiter than the nurse's uniform. What did—"
Issei shoved past him, stumbling into the stream of students. The walls seemed to pulse inward with each step—lockers warping. He barely registered Matsuda's shout as he shouldered through the gym doors, bursting into the empty courtyard where autumn leaves skittered across concrete.
His lungs burned. The recording. The lawsuit. His mother's face when the court papers arrived—"Fuck!" The word tore from his throat raw as he kicked a trash can, sending it rolling with a metallic shriek. A bird took flight from the school roof, wings slicing through the crisp air.
"Woah, woah, chill, dude" Motohama's voice came from behind him, footsteps crunching on fallen leaves. Issei didn't turn around, his fists clenched so tight his nails bit crescent moons into his palms. The autumn wind carried the scent of damp earth and Motohama's cheap cologne as his friend sidled up beside him.
"Seriously, what the hell's gotten into you?" Motohama nudged Issei's shoulder with his own—a habitual gesture that now felt like sandpaper on raw nerves. "You've been acting like someone swapped your porn stash with textbooks."
Issei's laugh came out jagged. He stared at his reflection in a puddle near the storm drain—his own face distorted, hollow-eyed. Then, something explosive comes to his mind as he turns to his friends "It was you....both of you who pushed me into this situation....you 2 gave me the idea of blackmailing her"
Motohama's grin faltered mid-chuckle. The autumn leaves between them rustled like whispered accusations. "Uh...what?"
Matsuda adjusted his glasses, the lenses flashing white in the afternoon sun. "Dude, we joked about it—"
"You egged me on!" Issei's voice cracked like splitting timber. Somewhere above, crows scattered from the school roof. His fingers twitched toward Motohama's collar before curling into fists. "All that shit about 'using her trauma'—like it was some fucking game!"
Matsuda took a half-step back, hands raised. The scent of his nervous sweat mixed with cheap detergent. "Okay, okay—but you're the one who actually did it, man. We didn't force you to—"
"...If you hadn't nudged me to do it, I would've just kept it to myself!" Issei's voice echoed across the courtyard, bouncing off the brick walls. Motohama flinched—not from the volume, but from the raw desperation in his friend's tone. The wind carried away cigarette butts and crumpled snack wrappers, leaving an uncomfortable silence between them.
Matsuda swallowed hard, adjusting his glasses again like a nervous tic. "Look," he began, voice uncharacteristically small, "we didn't think you'd actually—"
"Didn't think?" Issei's laugh was bitter as he kicked a pebble, sending it skittering into the chain-link fence. "You two never think. That's the fucking problem." His hands trembled at his sides, the memory of Nami's cold smile seared into his mind. "Now she's got lawyers. Actual lawyers."
Motohama's usual bravado crumbled. He scuffed his shoe against the pavement, avoiding Issei's glare. "Okay, yeah, we messed up. But..." A hesitant pause. "What exactly did she record you saying?"
The question hung in the air like a guillotine blade. Issei's stomach twisted as the library confrontation replayed—his threats, his pathetic attempt at dominance, the way Nami's eyes had gleamed when she'd pulled out that damn recorder. "Everything," he admitted hoarsely. "Every fucking thing."
The question hung in the air like a guillotine blade. Issei's stomach twisted as the library confrontation replayed—his threats, his pathetic attempt at dominance, the way Nami's eyes had gleamed when she'd pulled out that damn recorder. "Everything," he admitted hoarsely. "Every fucking thing. And now, the court is waiting for me, and who knows when she suddenly feels like suing me?"
"And you two...." he looks at Matsuda and Motohama bitterly "...didn't have even have a scratch while I take all the blame for the action, why does it has to be me out of all people?" Then, an idea came to his mind "Say, why don't you two take the blame with me as well?"
Motohama's expression twisted like he'd bitten into something rotten. The courtyard's autumn chill seeped into their silence as Matsuda adjusted his glasses with trembling fingers—the lenses catching the pale sunlight, momentarily obscuring his widening eyes. "Uh," he said intelligently, voice cracking mid-syllable.
Issei leaned in, the chain-link fence digging into his back. "You were there," he hissed. "Every time. Every fucking joke about leveraging her past. You encouraged me." His breath fogged in the crisp air, mingling with Motohama's startled exhale. "Fair's fair, right? We're friends, right? We came up with this bullshit together and how the hell am I the only who must take the blame"
Motohama's Adam's apple bobbed violently, his fingers twitching toward his phone like it might spontaneously combust. Matsuda adjusted his glasses with jerky movements—once, twice—before his usual smirk crumpled into something queasy. "Dude," he whispered, "you're talking felony shit."
Issei's laugh sounded like glass breaking. "Oh now you care about legality?" He jabbed a finger toward the school building where Nami's empty seat sat like an indictment. "You cheered when I said I'd use the video!"
The courtyard's lone maple tree rattled its branches above them, scattering crimson leaves that stuck to Motohama's sweat-damp neck. He flinched at the touch, swiping at it with a curse. "Look—"
"No, YOU look!" Issei grabbed fistfuls of his own hair, the roots stinging his scalp. "My parents' faces when the cops come—their fucking mortgage payments for lawyer fees—you think I can—" His voice cracked, raw as a skinned knee."—handle all this!?"
Matsuda and Motohama exchanged glances—the kind that spoke volumes in silence. The courtyard's lone maple tree creaked overhead, its shadow stretching long and skeletal across the pavement.
Motohama swallowed hard, adjusting his collar like it was suddenly too tight. "Okay," he began, voice uncharacteristically small, "but legally speaking, you're the one who actually—"
Issei's fist connected with the chain-link fence before he realized he'd moved. The metallic rattle drowned out Motohama's next words. His knuckles throbbed, the pain sharp and clarifying. "Legally speaking," he mimicked, voice dripping venom, "that's right, I am the only one, but you 2, supported my choice, why are you ducking the responsibility now that I am about to face lawsuit?"
Matsuda's glasses slipped down his nose as he took another step back, hands raised like a suspect under interrogation. "Okay, okay—but think about this logically," he stammered. "If we all go down, who's gonna bail who out? At least if it's just you—"
"At least if it's just me," Issei cut in, voice hollow, "your lives go on untouched." The realization hit him like a gut punch—his so-called friends had already written him off. The courtyard seemed to tilt, the autumn sunlight suddenly too harsh, the laughter from the school windows too loud.
Motohama shifted uncomfortably, scuffing his shoe against the pavement. "Look, man, we didn't mean—"
"You never mean anything," Issei snapped. "That's the problem. You two joke and nudge and never think about the fallout. Well, congratulations. The fallout's here."
"Hey, what are you three doing out here, go back to class!" the school security guard come to them, shooing them back into the school. The trio walked back in silence, Motohama and Matsuda trailing behind Issei like guilty shadows. The lights buzzed overhead, casting sickly pallor on the lockers lining the hallway. "So...what now?"
The question hung between them, heavy as a noose. Issei didn't answer. His gaze fixed on the classroom door ahead. The bell rang, shrill and mocking.
Matsuda adjusted his glasses nervously. "Dude, maybe—maybe we can talk to her together? Apologize properly—"
Issei whirled around so fast Motohama stumbled back. "Are you stupid?" His whisper was razor-sharp. "I told you. She wants to sue. She wants me—" His voice cracked. "Us to burn for this."
"Then what about....the bounty? You know, the money someone put on her head along the videos? $200,000, that's a lot of money, you know. They only said that's the money for her location, not anything about retrieving her. You can use that money to hire a lawyer, or strike a reconcile deal with her so that she withdraw the lawsuit"
Issei froze mid-step. The bounty. He'd forgotten—no, he'd repressed that detail after Nami dismantled him in the library. His fingers twitched toward his phone, the phantom weight of that damned video file burning in his pocket. Motohama leaned in, breath reeking of convenience store ramen. "Think about it—just her location. No dirty work. Easy cash."
The classroom door squeaked open ahead, revealing their homeroom teacher's disapproving glare. Issei's stomach lurched as he muttered, "Later," shoving past Motohama into the room. But the seed had been planted—its roots coiling around his panic like ivy on a crumbling wall.
[Timeskip: Brought to you by chibi Arto riding on top of Bayonetta's shoulder]
By the end of the last lesson, Issei, Motohama and Matsuda all move from their class, 1-A to find Nami, who is in class 2-B, they saw her earlier at school today so she is definitely still at school, they must talk to her to at least show her that they regretted their decision and beg for mercy from her lawsuit, if not, the bounty is their last option.
But first, they must be careful, approaching Nami carelessly is suicide, she has proven herself to be smarter than them, she has set a trap and Issei walked into it without noticing, making her angry right now is the last thing they want to do, they must appear weak and pathetic to her, appearing strong and intimidating is suicide.
When they arrive at class 2-B, they see Nami is doing her class cleaning duty with another girl who seems to be the one sitting next to her in class, and they are chatting cheerfully "Akemi-san, thank you so much for your assistance when Hiroto-sensei called me for sudden test, you really saved my life back there"
Nami, or Akemi stops wiping the board "That's what friends do for each other, you did give me the notes of the day I was absent from school, it's only fair." Her friend laughs "Oh, you're giving me too much credits, Akemi-san, I bet you'd ace the tests even without my notes"
"Who said I would?" Nami finishes wiping the board as she comes to her friend's side, she leans against the desk, smiling "I'm not a genius, you know? I—" She stops mid-sentence, her gaze flicking toward the doorway where Issei and his friends hover like shadows. Her smile doesn't falter—if anything, it sharpens. "Ah. Visitors."
Her classmate follows her gaze, blinking at the trio. "Oh? Do you know them?" The question is light, oblivious to the way Nami's fingers tighten slightly around the chalk eraser.
"Just some juniors," Nami says, tone casual as she sets the eraser down. "You can go home now, I'll take out the trash bin and be call it a day after hearing what these young men have to say"
Her classmate fidgets slightly to that request "Are you sure, Akemi-san? They are known for their indecent behaviors around girls, especially beautiful girls like you, I can't leave you alone with them, they might....do something..."
Nami's lips curled, not in amusement, but something colder—like frost creeping over glass. She plucked stray chalk dust from her sleeve. "Oh, I'll be fine," she murmured, gaze locked on Issei's twitching fingers. "These boys? They've already learned what happens when they 'do something.'"
The other girl hesitated, then nodded reluctantly. "Text me when you're safe," she whispered as she hands Nami something, a small personal alarm "Just to be safe, pul it if they do anything bad, the alarm will warn the security guards of the school, and make an emergency call to the police"
Nami laughs as she receives the alarm from her friend "You're too kind to me, Tamiko, fine, I'll keep it so you won't get worried"
Tamiko hesitates, casting one last glance at the trio before gathering her bag, and heads out of the classroom, not forgetting to shoot Issei's group a disproving glance. "Come in, you three, I'll spare you some more time to hear what you have to say. But don't take too long like the other day, I don't have that luxury" Nami says clearly from inside the classroom.
Issei steps in first, his breath catching in his throat as he notices the way Nami leans against the teacher's desk—not relaxed, but poised, like a predator assessing prey. Motohama and Matsuda shuffle in behind him, their usual bravado replaced by a nervous energy that makes the air feel charged. The classroom door clicks shut behind them, the sound unnaturally loud in the sudden silence.
Nami doesn't speak first. She watches them, fingers drumming lightly against the desk, the rhythm deliberate, controlled. Issei swallows hard, his earlier resolve crumbling under the weight of her dispassionate gaze. "Senpai," he starts, voice cracking. "We—we came to apologize."
Her eyebrow arches slightly, but she doesn't interrupt. Motohama elbows Issei sharply, urging him to continue. "It was—stupid. What we did. What I did." His hands tremble at his sides, fingers curling into fists. "We... we shouldn't have..."
"Shouldn't have what?" Nami's voice is soft, almost curious. "Shouldn't have tried to blackmail me with footage of my abuse? Shouldn't have thought you could leverage my trauma for your own gain?" She tilts her head, the afternoon light catching the glint of something cold in her eyes. "Be specific, Issei. I'd hate for there to be any... misunderstandings."
Issei's throat clicked as he swallowed. Behind him, Motohama shifted uneasily, the squeak of his sneaker on linoleum painfully loud. Matsuda adjusted his glasses with trembling fingers—once, twice—before blurting, "Look, senpai, we just—"
"Shut up, you" Nami shoots him a sharp glance "Did you blackmail me?" she asks, making Matsuda stunned into silence "You didn't, right? So why are you talking as if you have any stake in this?" Her tone is surgical—precise, detached, slicing through any pretense of solidarity. The classroom's clock ticks louder, each second stretching taut.
Issei flinches at the verbal scalpel-work. Motohama opens his mouth—then snaps it shut as Nami's gaze flicks to him. "Same goes for you." She leans forward slightly, elbows resting on her knees. "So. Issei." Her voice softens into something almost gentle—which terrifies him more than any shout. "You were saying?"
His palms slick with sweat. The chalk dust in the air itches his throat. "I—" The word sticks. He forces it out. "I'll delete everything. The video. The—the messages. All of it." A desperate pause. "Please don't sue me."
Nami exhales through her nose—not quite a laugh. The afternoon light stripes the floor between them, cutting the room into slices of gold and shadow. "Oh, Issei." She taps one fingernail against the desk. "Nothing is ever truly deleted from the internet. You think you can just get away with it just by deleting it from your laptop? The living proof is still existing on the dark web and you can always find it again if you try hard enough."
Issei's jaw twitches. The classroom's clock ticks like a slow-motion detonation. Behind him, Motohama swallows audibly—the sound of a man realizing exactly how deep the quicksand goes.
"But," Nami continues, plucking a stray thread from her sleeve, "let's entertain this fantasy. Say you do delete it." Her fingers curl around Tamiko's personal alarm, thumb tracing its trigger. "What guarantees do I have that you won't just... relapse?" The word drips with clinical disdain.
Matsuda opens his mouth—then shuts it when Nami's gaze flicks to him like a whip-crack.
"Senpai," Issei rasps, palms pressed flat against his thighs to stop their shaking. "I—I'll do anything. Community service. Reparations. Just... not court. Please." His voice fractures on the last word.
"I see, you're afraid your parents would know, right? They are your legal guardians after all. That's not mentioning you're an underage teen, so by suing you, I am suing your parents"
The words landed like a guillotine blade. Issei's vision tunneled—the classroom walls, the afternoon sunlight slicing through the blinds, Nami's unnervingly calm expression—all of it blurred into white noise. His knees nearly buckled as the full weight of her implication settled over him. His parents. Their faces when the court summons arrived. The shame. The disappointment. The—
"—have you understood your situation, kouhai? If anyone is hearing this first, it's your parents, and while your....rehabilitation will be handled by the Juvenile Court, I will file another lawsuit at Civil Court for compensation, and that will involve your parents,"
Nami continued, her voice measured, almost pedagogical. She leaned back slightly, the desk creaking under her weight. "Tell me, Issei—do your parents have ¥20,000,000 lying around for emotional damages? Because that's the minimum I'm demanding."
Motohama made a choked noise behind Issei. Matsuda's glasses slid down his nose, forgotten. The chalk dust in the air suddenly felt like ash in Issei's throat.
Nami tilted her head, observing their reactions with detached curiosity. "Ah. I see they don't." She sighed—the sound of a teacher disappointed by a failing student. "Then perhaps you should've considered that before attempting to extort me."
She takes her bag "Well, that's all for today, I'm heading home now, goodbye, Issei and whoever the other 2 are"
The classroom door clicked shut behind Nami with terrifying finality. Issei stood frozen, the echo of her footsteps fading down the hallway like a death knell. Motohama was the first to break the silence with a strangled whisper: "Twenty million yen?"
Matsuda's glasses slipped entirely off his nose, shattering on the linoleum with a sound like ice cracking. Neither of them moved to pick up the pieces.
Issei's phone buzzed—his mother again. The cheerful ringtone sliced through the numb static in his skull. He declined the call with fingers that felt detached from his body. Behind him, Motohama sucked in a sharp breath. "Okay. New plan. We find whoever posted that bounty and—"
"And what?" Issei whirled, his voice raw. "Sell her out? After this?" He gestured wildly at the empty classroom, at the shattered glasses, at the invisible noose tightening around his neck. "You think that'll make things better?"
Matsuda crouched to gather his broken frames, avoiding their eyes. "Then what are you going to do? Even if we wanted to help, how can we help you churn out that amount of money to pay her 'compensation'?"
Issei's phone buzzed again—this time, a text from his father: Dinner at 7. Your mother made curry. The mundane kindness of it made his stomach twist. He stared at the screen until the letters blurred. "I don't know," he admitted, voice hollow. "But I'm not dragging you two deeper into this." The lie tasted bitter. He wanted to drag them down, wanted them to choke on the same fear he was drowning in.
Motohama rubbed his neck, where a crimson maple leaf still clung to his collar like a bloodstain. "Look, man, maybe—maybe you just need to admit it to your parents or something, maybe they might find a way to settle it before it escalates—"
Issei's laugh was jagged as broken glass. "Tell them what exactly? 'Hey mom, I tried to blackmail a girl with her rape footage and now she's gonna bankrupt us'?" His voice cracked under the weight of the words.
Matsuda fiddled with the twisted frame of his glasses, the lenses splintered like his bravado. "Then what are you going to do now? She is aiming directly at your face, dude, she isn't pulling punches" The chalk dust swirled in the late afternoon light, settling on Issei's clenched fists like powdered verdicts. Outside, the distant clatter of cleaning carts and slamming lockers underscored their isolation.
"Dude, the bounty they placed on her head, the 200,000 dollars they would pay to know her location, we can use it, it's only her location, right?" Motohama's whisper slithered through the chalk-dusted air like a serpent coiling around Issei's conscience. "That's about....23 millions yen"
The numbers hung between them, almost tangible in their lethality. Issei's pulse hammered against his eardrums, drowning out the squeak of Matsuda's sneakers shifting nervously behind him.
"Only her location," Matsuda parroted weakly, adjusting his cracked glasses with trembling fingers. "No dirty work."
Issei's stomach lurched. He imagined Nami—Akemi—walking home, unaware of the trap about to snap shut around her. That cocky half-smile of hers as she'd dismissed them moments ago. The way she'd leaned against the desk, utterly in control while his world crumbled.
A trash can clattered in the hallway outside, jolting them. Motohama flinched, then leaned closer, breath hot and sour with panic. "Think about it, man. We give them an address—anywhere but her actual place—and bail before shit goes south."
"I don't know, guys, she said the night she set me up that....those who did that to her....are all wanted criminals. Telling her location is....cooperating with them, it could make the verdict worse for me," Issei muttered, rubbing his palms against his thighs as if trying to scrub away the sweat.
Motohama grabbed his shoulder with a grip too tight to be comforting. "Dude, think. Who's gonna know? You give them some random mansion address—hell, give them Arasaka's place across town—and boom. Lawsuit gone." His grin was all teeth, no humor. "She'll be too busy running to sue anyone."
Matsuda adjusted his broken glasses, the cracked lens warping his nervous blink. "Besides," he added, voice dropping to a whisper, "she's already got countermeasures, right? She'll be fine." The lie tasted like chalk dust on Issei's tongue.
The school's PA system crackled to life with the day's final announcements, the tinny voice echoing down the empty hallway. Issei's phone buzzed—another text from his mother: 'Forgot to buy curry roux. Pick some up on your way home, okay?' The mundanity of it carved him hollow.
Motohama grabbed his wrist, desperation tightening his grip. "Dude. Twenty million. Your parents' life savings. Gone. Poof." His fingers dug in like talons. "One address. That's all it takes."
Issei stands up and presses a finger agaisnt Motohama's chest "Do you really think it's just that fucking simple!? You're in this so you're not in the position to tell me what to do, Motohama because you are not sued."
Issei's eyes show exactly his state, desparate, afraid and hopeless "You asking me to work with wanted criminals to leak her location. are you hearing yourself!? She can file another lawsuit against me for attempting human trafficking, do you even know how heavy that crime is?"
Motohama recoiled like Issei had burned him. The classroom air thickened with the scent of sweat and chalk dust. Behind them, Matsuda's breath hitched—a wet, panicked sound. "Dude, no, that's—that's not what we're saying—"
Issei's voice slithered into the silence before Matsuda could finish. "But it IS what you're suggesting! You didn't know, those who fucked Nami in those videos, they are wanted criminals. Now have you known how bad my position is? That's not fucking acting, that's real raping, you porn addicting bastard!"
Issei kneels on the floor, clutching his head "I fucked up, fucked up bad, Motohama....Matsuda.....she is going to kill me slowly by draining every penny my parents have worked their asses off for. If I tell my parents, they will kill me themselves for hurting her like that, oh god....oh god....what have I done?"
The classroom's clock ticked like a slow-motion detonation. Motohama's jaw worked soundlessly, his usual bravado crumbling under the weight of Issei's unraveling. Matsuda adjusted his shattered glasses with trembling fingers—once, twice—before crouching beside Issei. "Okay. Okay, man, listen—" His voice cracked. "We—we'll think of something else. Anything else."
Issei's laugh was jagged, wet. "Like what? Rob a bank?" He pressed his forehead against the cool linoleum, the scent of industrial cleaner burning his nostrils. "She has me by the balls, Motohama. She knows she does."
"I can't think of anything else, man, there is no way we can make 20,000,000 Yen out of thin air. And the lawsuit will come to your parents eventually, so I think...."
Matsuda freeze mid sentence as Issei grabs the collar of his shirt "You think my parents would want to hear this, that they suddenly have to carry 20 million yen of debt on their back because of their son!? What the fuck do you think they are going to do to me?"
He pushes Matsuda back "You don't understand anything, you stupid shit! Because you're not sued like me and my parents! They will disown me the moment they hear about this"
Motohama caught Matsuda's shoulder before he could stumble into a desk, the scrape of chair legs against tile punctuating the silence that followed. Issei's chest heaved, his fingers twitching at his sides like live wires. Motohama exhaled sharply through his nose.
"Fine." The word landed between them like a dead thing. "Then what's your genius plan, huh?" His voice dropped, glancing at the empty hallway. "Because right now? You're just screaming at the only people still dumb enough to stand next to you."
Issei's throat clicked when he swallowed. "Fine! You want to know my plan? I say we divide the compensation between 3 of us, because we all have our hands in this and I can't be the one taking everything on my own"
Motohama's laugh was a dry, humorless bark. "Seven million each? You think my parents have that lying around?" He dragged a hand through his hair, fingers catching on tangles. "Do you even hear yourself?"
Matsuda adjusted his cracked glasses again—a nervous tic—and opened his mouth, but Issei cut him off with a sharp gesture. "Then what? You'd rather let me drown alone?" His voice cracked on the last word. "I thought we're friends, Motohama, Matsuda"
The silence stretched like a fraying rope. Motohama stared at the scuff marks on the floor, his shoulders hunched. Matsuda swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing.
"We are," Matsuda finally said, voice barely above a whisper. "But—Issei, man, we can't pull seven million yen out of nowhere. Even if we split it, we're still screwed. You know that."
Issei's breath hitched. His fingers dug into his thighs. "So that's it? You're just gonna bail?"
Motohama's head snapped up. "We're not bailing, dumbass! We're trying to think of a way that doesn't involve selling our kidneys!" He shoved his hands into his pockets, shoulders tense. "But you're not thinking, Issei. You're just panicking."
The classroom door creaked open. All three jerked upright like puppets on tangled strings. "Hyoudou, Motohama, Matsuda, what are you doing at school this late?" That gentle voice soothes their rambling senses as the history teacher they all love come in, Miss Nico Robin.
She comes to them with her usual grace, her heels clicking gently against the floor like gentle heartbeat. She approaches them with worried eyes and immediately notices Issei is crying "Why are you crying, Issei? What happened?" she comes before him, cupping his face into her soft hands, her thumbs rubbing his streak of tear away.
"I heard the noise down the hall so I came to check, it seems someone is in distress" She gently guide Issei to a seat in the class and turns to the other 2 "Have a seat, you 2, I think you're needing someone to confide"
Issei's breath hitched as Robin's fingers brushed his cheek—warm, impossibly gentle against his clammy skin. The scent of jasmine and old paper clung to her, incongruously comforting. Motohama and Matsuda shuffled into adjacent desks like guilty children, their earlier bravado evaporating under her quiet scrutiny. Robin knelt before Issei, her skirts pooling around her like ink. "Now," she murmured, "tell me what's troubling you."
The boys look at each other, then at the teacher they all love, especially Issei, the crush he has harbored for her from the moment she came to this school is freezing his tongue, if she knows he tried to blackmail another student, how will she look at him?
Will he hate him? Will she ever see him the same again? Will she assume his enthusiasm for her is another attempt to find a weakness to extort her? Those questions keep rambling inside his mind as he can't look straight into Robin-sensei's eyes.
Seeing the nervousness in the eyes of the boys, Robin sighs "You don't need to tell me the entire story, just briefly so that I know what you've been through" she suggest as she takes a chair and sits down opposite to them. Her hands clasped together on her lap, her fingers interlacing in a graceful manner, a posture that exudes both professionalism and warmth.
Issei hesitates, his tongue feels like lead. Motohama clears his throat "It's... It's about Nami-senpai, Robin-sensei. Issei..." He pauses, glancing at Issei who looks like he's about to vomit. Robin nods slowly, her gaze never leaving Issei's face "Okay? Nami is a lovely girl, what could have happened between you and her?"
"It's.....a lawsuit she filed against me and my parents" Issei admits finally, hiding the nature of the case so that Robin-sensei won't be disgusted of him. 'This is the end for me in her eyes' he thought as he moves his eyes up to look at her.
And he sees her covering her mouth, this confirms the death of his crush for her, she will never look at him the same again "A lawsuit? That serious?" Robin gasps sightly "I won't pry deeper, because if Nami decided the law is needed and the schoolboard can't deal with it, it's really bad"
Robin's fingers tapped lightly against her lips—thinking, not recoiling. The silence stretched, thick as the dusk light pooling through the classroom windows. Issei's pulse hammered in his throat. "Now, I want to ask you boys, what do you want to do now that the situation has come to this?"
Motohama shifted in his seat, the plastic creaking under his weight. "We—we don't know, Robin-sensei. That's the problem." His voice cracked like dry kindling. "It's not like we can just... magic up twenty million yen."
Robin's eyes narrows "20 millions yen? She demanded a compensation?" she asks softly, and Issei winces at the way she phrases it—like she's already dissecting the structural weaknesses of his case. Motohama nods mutely, but Matsuda blurts out, "It's not just the money! The video—"
Issei kicks Matsuda's shin under the desk hard enough to make him yelp. Robin's eyebrows lift slightly, but she doesn't press. Instead, she exhales through her nose—a slow, measured sound—and leans back in her chair. "I see...."
The silence stretches. Issei's fingers dig into his knees. "Robin-sensei," he croaks, "you—you're not going to report this to the faculty?"
She tilts her head, a ghost of a smile playing at her lips. "Report what, exactly? A student confiding in a teacher about legal troubles?"
Her tone is light, but there's steel beneath it. "Since Nami has pressed the case past the school board and directly to court, Kuoh Academy has nothing to do with this anymore. Well, until the court makes decisions that might affect your study at this school, by then the school board would know"
Issei's breath hitches—hope, jagged and desperate, claws its way up his throat. Robin-sensei hasn't recoiled. She hasn't called him a monster. She's still here, her hands folded neatly over her lap, her gaze steady. Motohama leans forward, elbows on his knees. "So... what do we do?"
Robin taps a finger against her chin. The gesture is thoughtful, almost theatrical. "Well," she says slowly, "if Nami has already escalated matters legally, then the only options are to either settle out of court... or prepare for litigation." Her eyes flick to Issei. "But given the sum involved, I assume settling isn't feasible?"
Issei's shoulders slump. "My parents don't have that kind of money," he mutters. The admission scrapes against his ribs.
Matsuda adjusts his cracked glasses. "What if... what if we talked to her? Like, properly apologized?" Robin shakes her head "When the problem escalated into law-involving case, it's hard for apologies to work, because people only let laws come in is when they lost faith in the sincerity between people"
Robin leans forward slightly, her elbows resting on her knees. The motion makes her blouse shift, revealing the faintest edge of a tattoo curling over her collarbone—something intricate and dark. Issei's breath catches, but not for the reason it usually would. There's something unsettlingly knowing in her expression now. "Let me ask you this," she murmurs, voice smooth as old wine. "Do you want to fix this? Or do you just want it to go away?"
The question hangs in the air like a blade. Motohama swallows audibly. Issei opens his mouth—closes it. His fingers twitch against his thighs.
Robin's smile doesn't reach her eyes. "Thought so." She straightens, adjusting the cuffs of her sleeves with deliberate precision. "Here's what I think is the best option for you now, especially you, Issei, the main defendant in the lawsuit Nami is filing against. That is letting your parents know about this."
Issei recoils like she'd struck him. "No—no, you don't understand—"
"I understand perfectly," Robin interrupts, her voice softening. "You're terrified of their disappointment. But consider this—would you rather they hear it from you, or from a court summons?"
Motohama winces. Matsuda's glasses slip down his nose. Issei's breath comes in shallow bursts, his nails biting crescents into his palms.
Robin sighs, leaning forward. "Issei, let me tell you something, when you can't avoid a storm, you must be prepared for it. Telling your parents would prepare them, at least emotionally, for what to come, if the people of the court one day arrive and hand your parents the lawsuit papers—they would be devastated unexpectedly, and what came after would be much worse."
She looks straight into his eyes "That's not mentioning your parents are much more financially and legally capable than you to settle the compensation Nami is demanding—"
Issei's chair screeches as he stands abruptly. "Robin-sensei, you don't understand! My parents—my mom—she'd look at me like—" His voice cracks. Robin remains seated, her expression unreadable. Behind her, Motohama and Matsuda exchange glances.
Robin taps her fingers against her knee. "Like you're a stranger? Like she no longer recognizes her son?" Her voice is softer now, almost pitying. "Issei, that look is already coming. The only difference is whether you face it with honesty—or cowardice."
The word cowardice hangs in the air like a guillotine blade. Issei's fists clench at his sides, his breathing ragged. Matsuda adjusts his cracked glasses, but says nothing. Motohama stares at the floor, his jaw working silently.
Then—"And it's also the way you confess it to your parents, it needs to fill with the remorse and regret of a kid not knowing better, so that they know you messed up, but that's not who you truly are."
Issei's breath hitched. The idea of kneeling before his parents, confessing his stupidity—his cruelty—made his lungs seize. But Robin's fingers brushed his wrist, grounding him. "Second," she continued, "you will not pursue any further retaliation. No schemes, no desperate attempts to 'fix' this yourselves."
Her tone softened, almost pitying. "You're children. This is beyond you." Matsuda's chair screeched as he slumped back into it. "So we just—what? Surrender?"
Robin's chuckle was dry. "You already have lost, the only way out now is facing the consequences of your choices."
She lets go of Issei's hand "Now, go get yourselves clean and go home, I'll make a call to your parents to give them a few lifting words about your good performance in history classes of mine—where you actually do well comparing to other subjects, that would give them a good headstart and an impression that their son is doing well at school and all of this is just an overstep made by impulsiveness."
She stands up from her seat and gathers her stuffs "They will be angry, furious even, but they will soon accept that their son had done something wrong and will look for measures to make things better."
She sighs and starts warning them "Limitations and restraints will come later as cautions, disappointment and sadness will be parts of the aftermath, but....they will never leave their son to face everything alone"
Robin pats Issei's shoulder "Trust your parents, they care about you more than you know"
The classroom door clicked shut behind Robin, leaving behind the faint scent of jasmine and the weight of her words. Issei stared at the empty space where she'd stood, his fingers twitching at his sides. Motohama exhaled sharply through his nose, rubbing his temples. "Well. That's... something." His voice was flat, stripped of its usual bravado.
Matsuda adjusted his glasses—an absent-minded tic—before speaking in a hushed tone. "She's right, you know. Your mom's... your mom's nice, Issei. She'll freak out, but she won't hate you." The words hung awkwardly between them, too earnest for comfort.
Issei's throat worked silently. He could already see it—his mother's hands trembling as she held the summons, the way her smile would fracture when she looked up at him. The thought made his stomach lurch. "You don't get it," he muttered, voice thick. "She trusts me. Thinks I'm—" His voice cracked. "Better than this."
Motohama's chair scraped as he stood abruptly. "Yeah, well. Too late for that now." He shoved his hands into his pockets, shoulders hunched. "Look, just... do what Robin-sensei said. Call your mom before she gets a fucking subpoena."
"This is the end of the line, right?" Issei turns to his 2 friends "If I tell my parents, and if it plays out like Robin-sensei said, they will definitely burn all my porn stash, restraint my laptop, and might even ban me from hanging out with you guys"
Motohama barked a laugh—sharp and bitter, like a dog choking on its own leash. "Yeah, well, maybe you should lose the porn stash, Issei. Considering what it got you into." He rubbed his temples, fingers pressing hard enough to leave marks.
Matsuda kicked a desk leg, sending a hollow clang echoing through the empty classroom. "We're screwed either way. Either we tell them now and get grounded for life, or wait for Nami's lawyers to drop the bomb and then get grounded for life plus bankrupt."
Issei's fingers curled into fists, the remnants of Robin's chamomile tea sloshing precariously in its cup. The warmth had faded completely—just like his defiance. "Fine," he muttered, voice hoarse. "I'll tell them." The words tasted like ash, but beneath them, something else flickered—relief, maybe, or the dawning horror of what came next.
Motohama exhaled sharply through his nose, rubbing his neck where tension had coiled like barbed wire. "Yeah, well, don't expect us to hold your hand when your dad starts swinging." His attempt at humor fell flat, landing somewhere between a joke and a confession.
Matsuda stands up and turns to Issei "Hey, let me and Motohama get you a drink, that's the least we can do aside from praying for your safety, because this might be the end of Perverted Trio"
[Timeskip: Brought to you by Nami hugging cat Kuroka]
[Arto's mansion]
Nami is lounging on the sofa with Kuroka resting on her belly like 2 lazy cats, Robin just finished her call to Issei's parents, Grayfia brings out the tea as Rias, Akeno, Koneko and Kiba return from training session.
"Why did you do that, Robin?" Nami asks, rubbing Kuroka's head gently "Why are you drawing a way out for them?" Robin settles down her phone, she takes a cup of tea served by Grayfia and leans back against the sofa.
"Because I won't let you write another crime into the file of my students, Nami. Punishing them with blackmailing lawsuit is bad enough." Robin takes a sip "You were expecting them to contact Arlong, right?" she asks Nami
"What? It's a good plan, the authorities get a victory bloat about on newspapers when ambushing a big crime syndicate and Arto's work in exterminating them in Sweden are lightened when they send their elite forces over here to capture me" Nami shrugs, fingers still idly scratching behind Kuroka's twitching ears.
Robin's cup clicks against the saucer with deliberate precision. "And you think those criminals would just trust the boys's words about you being here?"
Nami's fingers are still in Kuroka's fur. The Nekoshou let out a displeased whine at the interruption, stretching lazily before curling tighter against Nami's stomach. "Of course they would demand proof, and those boys, known for their peeking records, it's easy for them to prove, just add a camera into the scene and they are set" Nami replied, waving a hand dismissively. "But now that you intervened, I lost my bait."
Robin exhaled through her nose, setting her tea down. "I see, you want to use their desperation to slip something out, right? And for what? Lightening Arto's workload? That one-man-army can clear the entire syndicate in one night—he just hasn't gotten there yet"
She leaned forward, her shadow stretching across Nami like a warning. "But using children—reckless, foolish children—as disposable pawns? That's beneath you."
Nami's fingers twitched against Kuroka's fur. The Nekoshou cracked one golden eye open, sensing the shift in tension. "They tried to blackmail me with that video," Nami said quietly. "You know what it means to me."
Robin's expression softened, but her voice remained firm. "I do. Which is why I'm stopping you before you cross a line you can't uncross." She reached out, brushing Nami's wrist—a grounding touch. "You're better than vengeance that stains your own hands."
Akeno, perched on the armrest beside Rias, tilted her head. "Robin-chan's right. Arto would raze Arlong's empire to ashes if you asked him to. No need to involve those boys." Her smile was sweet, but the static crackling in her hair betrayed her irritation.
Kuroka stretched, tail flicking lazily. "Nyah~? So the little kittens get a free pass after clawing at our Nami-chan?" She rolled onto her back, golden eyes gleaming. "How boring."
Rias leans closer to Nami "Say, why were you working for this....Arlong thingy?" Nami sighs before pulling out an employee ID card of JP Morgan's Sweden branch, JP Morgan SE with a name 'Nami Nerona' and throws it on the table "This is the reason why"
The whole family takes a look, all are surprised aside from Robin "Whoa..." Kiba gasps "A big shot" Koneko comment.
Nami nods "Yes, I was the vice director of JP Morgan SE before being kidnapped and forced to work for Arlong for 3 years, laundering billions with a gun behind my head. The videos Issei used to blackmail me was recorded in that time. I was their money launder by day and sex toy by night. You can't imagine how many birth control pills I had to take to protect my womb when they raped me raw"
She sits straight back, folding her legs closer to her torso, tightening her hug around Kuroka's cat form who is trying to swipe away a streak of tear from Nami's eyes by her paw "Thank you, kitty, I'm fine now." She looks up at Robin who is looking at her with sad eyes "I'm sorry, Robin, I lost myself there. I was going too far, wasn't I?"
Robin shakes her head and reaches out to pat Nami's shoulder "No, you're just hurting, and people hurting tend to go overboard. That's why I'm here—to pull you back before you drown."
Rias leans forward, her fingers brushing Nami's wrist—an unspoken promise. "We're all here for that." She glances at the ID card still "But why did they aim at you specifically?"
"Well, because my father sold me to them" Nami answers bluntly "You see, my mother died giving birth to me, and my father has always been resenting me for it, to the point he left me at the orphanage and drowned himself in alcohol and drugs. I grew up in the orphanage in Sweden, always wondering what my origin was"
As she tells, tears starts streaming down her cheek again, Kuroka takes it on herself to swipe away those tears for her "After I graduated from Lund, I started looking for my origin, and I found that he was living in a meth den outside Stockholm. When he saw me, he thought I was my mother, same hair color, same eyes,...He, in his drunk state, tried to hug me, to kiss me, and call her name..."
A sigh "But when told him I was not my mother, but the daughter she died giving birth to, this happened" Nami spreads the hair on her head, revealing a scar "He hit me with his wine bottle in anger and resentment, leaving me this scar"
The scar glistened under the mansion's chandelier light—a jagged, silvery line cutting through Nami's sunset-orange hair. Kuroka's claws flexed instinctively against her thigh, pupils narrowing to slits.
Rias inhaled sharply. "That's—"
"Not the worst part," Nami interrupted with a humorless chuckle. She tapped the ID card with one nail. "When I woke up in Arlong's basement when they kidnapped me, they told me the truth. Turns out my dear father sold me to pay off his drug debts." She flicked the card away like a piece of trash. "Price tag? 73,600 Krona. Cheap, right? They got themselves a top-tier financier"
The room plunged into silence. Even Kuroka stopped purring, her ears flattening against her skull. Grayfia's teacup hovered mid-pour, the steaming liquid trembling slightly. Rias's fingers tightened imperceptibly around her own cup—enough to make the porcelain creak.
Koneko was the first to move, her small frame unfolding from the couch with unnatural stillness. She padded over to Nami, and she hugs Nami around her neck "Tragedy" she nudges closer to Nami's face with her own, pressing her cheek against Nami's "Tragedy" she repeats, voice barely above a whisper.
Nami stiffened for a moment before melting into the embrace, one hand coming up to cradle the back of Koneko's head. "Yeah," she murmured into white hair. "Tragedy."
Rias stands up next, she comes to Nami and presses her forehead against her "I won't happen again, big sis, you have us now" Nami nods "I know, don't worry, it's just sudden appearance that caused me a little emotional burst, I've moved on already, from the moment I became his CFO"
"It's a surprise you still trusted Arto's offer after what happened" Akeno comments, making Nami smile "Well, because from the first look, I know Boss was genuine about wanting my talent—his eyes were calculating my worth as a financier, not as a bedwarmer....
She leans in more to the comfort her family is offering her "And he gave me enough freedom....and protection for me to continue my passion for finance. Proof is now, he is on his way to Sweden to wipe out Arlong, just because his beloved CFO asked him to"
Akeno's fingers curled tighter around her teacup, steam curling between her fingers like phantom flames. "That sounds exactly like him," she murmured, lips quirking in a private smile. The static in her hair settled, replaced by something softer—fondness.
Grayfia clears her throat softly, setting down a fresh cup of tea before Nami. "Then what will you do about the lawsuit?"
Nami exhales sharply through her nose. "I'll pursue it, at least to make them afraid enough to not attempting to do this anymore, about the compensation, I'll have my own way to collect them, I'll have his father hand over the lumberyards to Abyssgard Financial Management, I'll manage it for them and pay them interest based on revenues, but, I'll make it look like his father has to sell his lumberyards to pay the compensation while in truth, it's just financially managed under a different hand, but still theirs, just to scare Issei to death"
Kuroka's ears twitched at the sound, her tail curling tighter around Nami's wrist as if anchoring her. Robin swirled her tea absently, watching the leaves settle. "You're kinder than you pretend," she mused, glancing at Nami. "Offering to manage their assets instead of seizing them outright."
Nami shrugged, but her fingers trembled slightly against Kuroka's fur. "Business is business. Lumberyards under my management will turn ten times their current profit. They'll thank me eventually for their wealth."
Koneko, still pressed against Nami's shoulder, snorted. "Liar." Her breath warmed Nami's neck. "You just don't want their moms crying."
Akeno giggled into her hand, the sound like wind chimes. "Our Nami-chan, the secret softie~"
Nami pushes back "Yeah, yeah, just don't want to make those who have nothing to do with this cry, wait until I cut your monthly allowance"
Kiba laughs "Well, she's back to normal," before stretching his arms. "Just about time I have presents for you, Nami-senpai."
Nami raises an eyebrow as Kiba comes to her with 2 boxes, one large and heavy, one long and slim "Open it, senpai"
Nami hesitated for only a heartbeat before reaching for the slim case. The latches clicked open with military precision, revealing navy velvet lining that cradled—
Nami's fingers traced the polished silver surface of the Clima-Tact, its familiar grooves now interlaced with delicate Gremory sigils that pulsed faintly like dormant lightning. The modifications weren't just aesthetic—Kiba had reshaped the core chamber into a double helix, allowing simultaneous temperature and pressure manipulation without the old delay between attacks.
Kiba starts "Arto-senpai seems to have packed magic-tech he knows about weather manipulation into this thin staff, I don't know how he could finish this staff in a few days, but it took me 2 weeks to finally understand how things are working together, senpai never goes light when it comes to testing me"
The Clima-Tact gleamed under the chandelier light—not just polished, but fundamentally changed. Where Nami's original staff had been sleek industrial alloy, this version thrummed with something deeper. The metal itself seemed to breathe, its surface etched with Gremory clan sigils that pulsed like dormant lightning.
Kiba's fingers hovered over the central helix—a coiled double-spring mechanism that hadn't existed before. "See this? Senpai's original design could only manipulate temperature gradients. But now—" He twisted the helix clockwise. A single droplet of water condensed midair above the staff, hovering for a heartbeat before crystallizing into a perfect snowflake. "—it handles pressure systems too. Simultaneously."
Nami's breath caught. She reached out, fingertips brushing the snowflake—then jerked back as it shrieked into a miniature blizzard, swirling violently before collapsing into mist. Kiba chuckled sheepishly. "Ah. Right. Sensitivity's calibrated for combat reflexes now. No more 'gentle breeze' mode unless you—" He tapped a nearly invisible switch near the grip. The staff hummed lower, gentler. "—enable safeties."
Rias leaned in, crimson eyes gleaming with fascination. "Kiba-kun, this is... beyond academy-level enchantment work." Her fingers traced the helix. "You integrated Sitri water-binding sigils with Gremory storm-calling arrays. That's theoretical fusion magic."
Kiba rubbed his neck, suddenly self-conscious. "Well, the blueprints were 90% Arto-senpai's. I just... filled in the gaps he left for me." His voice dropped, almost reverent. "But the way he layered the spell matrices... It's like watching a composer write a symphony in three dimensions."
Nami holds the staff "It's so much tougher now," and activate its extending mechanic and the extension feels so much smoother. Ahhh, I can see your touch now, Kiba the alchemist, it seems Edward Elric's book really did their job. Is this new material?"
Kiba grinned, hands shoved in his pockets like a kid showing off his first sword. "Dragonsteel alloy core with Sitri hydro-reactive plating. Lighter than titanium, harder than diamond, and—" He tapped the staff's midpoint. The metal shimmered, turning translucent as water for a brief second before solidifying again. "Flexible when needed"
Akeno gets her hands on the staff as well "Wow, this is.....exactly what I want for my naginata. Kiba-kun, will you make me a naginata with this material? I do need a physical naginata to use in mana-poor environment"
Kiba hesitated, glancing toward Grayfia—who gave an imperceptible nod. "Technically, yes. But..." He rubbed his temple. "The hydro-reactive plating requires Sitri clan authorization codes. Even with Arto-senpai's clearance, we'd need Lady Sona's—"
Rias's grin turned razor-sharp. "Oh, that won't be a problem." She plucked her phone from her cleavage, thumb already dialing. "Sona-chan owes me for covering up her little... incident with the succubus cafe last month." The call connected. "Sona? Yes, it's me. Remember how you swore you'd repay me any favor? I'm cashing in."
Nami snorted into Kuroka's fur as Rias launched into negotiations, her voice sweet as poisoned honey. Meanwhile, Koneko tugged at the larger box still sitting on the table. "Open this one next."
The box unfolded like a flower, layers peeling back to reveal—a golden statue of Nami herself with a golden orb flying around it "Well, a gift for the formation of Abyssgard Financial Management,"
He points at the spinning orb with the golden letter of fortune (富) written on it "it's inlaid with blessing from the actual god of wealth of Shintoism, Daikokuten, you can thank Akeno for ritual, dance, and maybe some communication, but I can't guarantee she won't charge you" Kiba says, nudging Akeno's shoulder.
Akeno smirked, lightning flickering between her fingers. "Oh, I absolutely charged for it. A full month's allowance." She leaned in, breathing warm against Nami's ear. "But don't worry—Daikokuten-sama was very impressed with your intelligence. Though..."
Akeno cups her chin "He asked me why you needed a blessing from him while you've already gotten Njörðr's blessing already?"
Nami froze mid-sip, the teacup clinking against the saucer as she shot Akeno a sharp look. "Wait. What? Njörðr? The Norse god of wealth?" Akeno shrugs "Well, Daikokuten-sama said so"
Robin set down her teacup with deliberate precision, the sound louder than necessary in the sudden silence. "Njörðr is Vanir. That's not a casual patron." She leaned forward, fingers steepled. "When exactly did you meet a Norse sea god, Nami?"
Nami's grip tightened around the Clima-Tact, the newly enchanted metal humming faintly under her fingers. "I didn't. Unless..."
Nami gets off the couch and makes a run upstairs, after a while, she came down with a necklace with a pendant of a symbol that looks like a boat "This is from my mother, I've been wearing it since I was a kid..."
Before she could finish her sentence, Akeno snatches the necklace from her hand, gazing it carefully "Yep, definitely Njörðr of Norse, this symbol is his, this has strong blessing from the god himself, though I don't think he accounted your ability to map realities through the Void, but oh well~Guess the god made a good investment" she chuckles before returning the pendant to Nami.
The pendant pulsed faintly in Nami's palm—a slow, oceanic rhythm that hadn't been there before. She frowned, turning it over. The engraved boat symbol now glowed with bioluminescent blue, seawater dripping from it despite the pendant being bone-dry moments ago.
Robin's fingers twitched toward her own summoning tattoos. "Well, he blessed a woman who will one day sail and trade between realities in the 'Sea of Worlds' as Arto calls it, it's a right call, or a destiny that has always meant to be."
The pendant's glow intensified, casting rippling blue reflections across the ceiling like sunlight through ocean waves. Nami inhaled sharply as the chain slithered around her wrist of its own accord, the metal warm and alive against her skin. "Okay, that's new," she muttered, poking at the pendant now pulsing in time with her heartbeat.
Koneko's nose wrinkled. "Smells like salt." She leaned in, whiskers twitching. "And... fish?" Kuroka reaches her paws towards it "Fish? Where?" Nami keeps the pendant from Kuroka's paws and turns to Kiba "Now what do I do with this...blessing?"
"You can...." he gestures towards the statue, Nami understands right away as she wraps the necklace around the statue as it flares up and forms another orb with a light blue Futhark rune written on it (ᚠ) as it starts orbiting the statue of Nami
"Fehu..." Robin mutters, tracing the glowing rune with a fingertip. The Norse prosperity symbol pulsed brighter at her touch, seawater beading along its curves despite the dry air. "You did a great job in turning blessed objects into these cute orbs, Kiba, and they are harmonizing, both gods are supporting you"
"Daikokuten-sama will assist you in businesses within Japan where Shinto influence are strong, while Njörðr will assist you in oversea matters," Akeno explains, watching the two orbs orbit nami's statue in perfect sync, their glow intensifying whenever they pass close.
Koneko sniffed the air again, scrunching her nose. "Still smells like tuna market." She batted at the Norse orb, which bobbed away with liquid grace before circling back to hover protectively near Nami's shoulder.
Grayfia cleared her throat, setting down her teacup with an audible clink. "We've strayed from the primary concern." Her glacial gaze shifted to Nami. "These blessings confirm you've always been under divine observation. Which raises the question—why would Njörðr mark an orphaned child unless..."
Robin's fingers froze mid-air where she'd been tracing the runes. "Unless he knew she'd become instrumental in cross-world economics." Her dark eyes locked onto Nami's. "Your mother's necklace suggests lineage. Are you certain you were born in Sweden?"
"I am Swedish, thank you." Nami protests "But Nerona, it's my mother's surname, I was named using Nerona because, according to the doctors who assist my mother's labor, after I was born, my mother was dying because of blood lost."
The whole family goes silent to hear Nami's story "All she could do was giving me a teary hug and putting the necklace on my neck before she passed away. And since my father didn't have anything else to do with me, even giving me a name, so I was named Nami Nerona by the doctors before being transferred into an orphanage"
Robin's fingers curled tighter around her teacup, the porcelain creaking under pressure. "Nerona..." she murmured, dark eyes flicking to Grayfia, the head maid starts speaking "As far as I know, Nerona is indeed a linage that worships Njörðr, and it's a tradition for everyone of the linage to wear a necklace with the symbol of the god for luck and protection"
Nami looks back at the blessing orb of Njörðr "Heh, I thought it was bullshit, because even when I was wearing it, those bastards of Arlong still raped the shit out of me, so, I might have lost faith in the protection of a god, I didn't even believe in their existence before working for Arto"
"Well, but it did buff your mathing skill to the point you can calculate positions of invisible objects and know where exactly the ball will land in roulette, right?" Rias asks, almost teasingly "Well, yeah, but....." Nami shrugs, then look back at the orbitting orb "Fine, thank you, divine Njörðr, for your blessing, I will forever be grateful"
The Norse orb pulsed brighter at her words, like an acknowledgement "Though, I have to ask, am I just this smart because of the blessing?" Robin shakes her head "No, you're just built different when it comes to math and numbers, I've seen you running simulations in your head while talking to me, just because the blessing amplifies something doesn't mean it created the ability"
Koneko sneezes as the Shinto orb drifts too close to her whiskers. "Still smells like sake and rice." She bats at it, but the orb merely bounces away with a cheerful chime before settling near Nami's other shoulder—now forming a perfect symmetry with its Norse counterpart.
Kiba clears his throat, adjusting his glasses. "Actually, senpai, the blessing's effect is multiplicative, not additive. Think of it like..." He gestures vaguely. "If your base math skill is a '10', Njörðr's blessing doesn't add '5'—it multiplies by '1.5'. So you'd be at '15', not '15'." He pauses. "Wait, that came out wrong—"
Nami laughs, flicking his forehead lightly. "I get it, nerd." Her fingers trail over the Norse orb, seawater beading along her fingertips despite the dry air. "But come over here, Kiba, let me hug you for these wonderful presents"
Kiba accepts and comes over for Nami to hug, and to his surprise, he pulls him in with a strength that no one could imagine she has and presses his face into her chest "My favorite alchemist, I'll your double the allowance from next month~"
Kiba's muffled protests were drowned out by the sudden eruption of laughter around the table—Akeno's wind-chime giggles, Kuroka's feline snickers, even Grayfia's rare, soft exhale through her nose. Rias clapped her hands together, her crimson eyes gleaming with mischief. "Ah, Kiba-kun, suffering for his art~"
Nami finally released him, leaving Kiba flushed and disheveled as he staggered back, adjusting his shirt. "You're welcome, Miss Nami" he muttered, rubbing his sore nose.
"Now, let me finish my lawsuit filing~" Nami sings as she calls her legal team, making Rias laugh "I even thought you've forgotten you gotta sue them" Nami smirks "I never misses money, girl, especially from those who tried to use it against me"
Grayfia stands up from her seat "Now I must excuse myself to go prepare dinner, Lady Albedo will return any moment, she had a lot of meetings today so she will clearly by stressed and hungry. You all should go wash yourself and prepare for dinner, we have a call with Master after that"