DxD: Fusion

Day 94:

Toshio Perspective

Fifth period. Science class.

The teacher was droning on about molecular orbital theory, or ionic charge gradients, or something equally pointless to someone who could literally design a fusion reactor. I wasn't listening. I hadn't needed to since school started. Due to perfect memory, high school academics were trivial. I knew more than most college professors; well, about physics anyway.

My eyes drifted sideways, to the seats on either side of mine—both empty.

Rias to my left. Akeno to my right. Gone, just like yesterday. And the day before that.

Some kind of devil business, I assumed. Not that they told me. It wasn't like we were in that phase of the relationship—whatever the hell kind of relationship it was.

But still… their absence threw me off more than I expected.

At first, we just had lunch together, them sitting across from me. I always sat in the far corner of the cafeteria where it was a touch quieter, where I could have the widest view of the room. I would occasionally glance at them when they walked up. Their gait contained such an established aura of nobility, I can see why students often stopped and stared when they walked by.

Then they pulled that surprise, Akeno's idea no doubt, when they sat on either side of me. Since then, it had become routine.

Akeno would glide in with a teasing smile and sit close—always just close enough for her thigh to brush against mine, or for her hair to tickle my cheek when she leaned too far over my shoulder. Rias would follow, ever the graceful queen (or king I suppose in her case), acting like it was her idea all along to sit there, rather than her queen's. By the second week, I was starting to get used to it. By the third, it became my new normal.

Now they were both gone. And lunch… felt… lonely. Hollow. My food had tasted a little blander, despite the quality.

I didn't realize how accustomed I'd gotten to them until the silence swallowed me.

Akeno especially had a knack for creating… moments. Not conversations, necessarily. Not flirtation, though that was part of it. Just… moments. Little micro-contacts. Her arm brushing mine. Her chest "accidentally" pressing into my back when she reached past me. That one time she leaned too far while laughing and her face—her actual face—ended up between my shoulder and neck. I froze like a moron while she pretended not to notice.

Honestly, I think I've touched her boobs more in this life than in my entire last one combined. Not that that's a high bar to clear. If you count full contact by way of ambush—arms, back, shoulder, face—yeah. She had me beat. And despite how my outward reactions my have appeared, I didn't want her to stop. Not even close.

There was something—warmth maybe—in that physicality. Something human. Much more than the adolescent sexuality that kids tend to obsess over (cough…Issei…cough).

It was something I hadn't had since my freshman year at MIT, back when parties and bad decisions were still part of the package. I barely even remember losing my virginity. Just the burn of alcohol in my throat and how dimly lit the room was. The girl's name was lost to time and tequila.

Funny thing about alcohol: it doesn't just make you forget, it makes other people look way better than they are. Biology calls it disinhibition. Even though inebriated, I had experienced that feeling.

If I had to identify it, intimacy. The feeling of intentional human (devil?) touch that I had apparently starved myself of.

With Akeno? Even when she was being shameless, she felt real. And Rias…

Rias would get competitive. That was the surprising part. Not overtly—never enough to break her composure—but I started to notice the little things. If Akeno touched my arm, Rias would casually brush my hand. If Akeno made a joke while leaning in, Rias would up the ante by tugging me aside for a private word, her face inches from mine. Sometimes she blushed. Sometimes she pouted. One time, she rested her head on my shoulder after sighing about "noble burdens," and I swear she peeked to see if Akeno noticed.

It was… cute. All of it. Frustratingly so.

And lately, something had started to stir in me. I didn't know what to call it. Lust was too easy. Passion too grand. Love… too dangerous. Maybe it was just warmth. Or the memory of it. Maybe I liked being seen. Wanted. Pulled in. Interacted with.

It was like dumping water in the vast, desolate wastes of a desert that had never seen water, every drop poured out a fleeting moment of connection, eagerly devoured and swiftly dissipating, leaving an insatiable thirst for more. And it made me feel grateful.

I wish I knew how to express it better. It was like completely understanding and acting on an utterly foreign concept, in a different language. I didn't know what to do with it. But I wanted to.

Whatever it was, I didn't want it to end. They must've known. My lack of resistance was practically consent. Maybe even encouragement.

So they got somewhat bolder, more comfortable. Not that I was complaining. Not when Akeno started resting her hand on my knee during lunch. Not when Rias would lean on my desk and speak low, like her words were meant just for me. At times, while I was reading the book I brought in to memorize, Rias would lean over against me. The warmth from contact like that…is that what I had been missing out on all my life?

Some afternoons, one or both would walk with me toward the kendo club before disappearing off to do their ORC things. I never asked what those were, even though I pretty much knew. I could have. But it felt good to have that final moment—like I mattered enough to be seen off.

They'd come to me with it when they're ready to. I wasn't in a hurry.

Speaking of kendo… that was going extremely well. At least, the teaching part.

Three of the girls I'd trained entered the regional tournament this month. All three placed in the top ten. One of them even made third place—and then she placed in the top twenty at nationals. No one from Kuoh had ever even qualified for regionals before. Now we had a trophy case.

The downside? I'd hit a plateau.

No real sparring partners meant my Zanjutsu and Advanced Swordsmanship skills were stagnating. Training lower-level students was great for reinforcement, but not evolution. And I needed evolution. Growth.

Still, they all respected me. Way too much, honestly. All girls. All deferential. Even the third-years called me Amano-sensei now, despite my constant protests. I tried to get them to just call me Toshio. I even offered them an out, for them to go with Toshio-sensei. Still no. Likely the cultural respect that's ingrained into every Japanese native.

It annoyed me. But I let it go.

The weird part was how the flirtatious tension from the earlier days had all but vanished. Well, not entirely. It was like I'd become off-limits. The status of club captain had turned me into some kind of semi-sacred figure, and my public proximity to Kuoh Academy's two queens only amplified the effect. I had even heard some rumors in passing that my "fan club" chased off girls who wanted to confess, knowing I liked to keep to myself. That was nice. At first I dreaded that I got one, but now I'm actually thankful.

But at Kendo especially, now I got reverence instead of flirtation. Discipline instead of innuendo.

The school gossip, however? That had only gotten worse.

Apparently, I was secretly engaged to Rias, being seduced by Akeno, or caught in some weird polyamorous triangle involving both. Someone actually posted a theory on the school message board that I was the runaway heir of a European oil dynasty, hiding out in Japan under an alias to avoid an arranged marriage—while the girls were sent by rival factions trying to seduce me into signing over control of the company. Who came up with this stuff? What was this, a K-drama?

I should've been offended or annoyed. Instead, I gave them a mental A for effort.

I stayed quiet, and they filled in the blanks with whatever fulfilled the ravenous hole that was drama. Teenage girls I swear.

Still though, the results of my teaching efforts don't lie. My Combat Instruction skill had hit Rank 4 last week. Watching the way the girls progressed under my guidance—seeing their form sharpen, their timing refined, their stances strengthened—it was… rewarding. Strangely cathartic. Like sculpting people with movement instead of marble. 

I actually got to tell the girl (Hozuki, the previous captain) that I was proud of her for making it to nationals. As an unintentional side effect, that gave her an absolutely atomic blush. Hopefully she didn't get the wrong idea…

The bell rang, loud and final. I blinked once, broken out of my reverie and stood.

Time for the next class.

I gathered my things with mechanical ease, still caught in the half-hollowed mental space lunch had left behind. As I made my way across the hallway toward sixth period, I preemptively braced myself for more empty seats. Another hour of silence, another reminder that I'd gotten used to warmth I never asked for.

So when I stepped into the classroom and saw them both—Rias and Akeno—already in their seats, I actually froze in the doorway for half a second.

There they were. Just like always, like they were never absent.

Rias at her desk, posture straight, red hair cascading over her shoulder like a curtain of fire. Akeno beside her, one leg crossed elegantly over the other, her fingers idly twirling a pen as if it were a ritual dagger. But it wasn't just them.

There was someone new.

Sitting to Rias' left was a blond boy in Kuoh's uniform—tall, athletic, immaculate. His appearance alone was like something sculpted: pale skin, clean-cut features, and eyes the color of steel left out in the rain. Too sharp to be kind. Too tired to be cruel.

His presence was the only thing messier than his perfection. His energy was cold. Not detached like mine—more like someone who had fallen so far inward they didn't care if they ever came back out. I recognized that look. I'd seen it once, years ago, in a mirror at the funeral. That mix of numbness and suppressed trauma. The kind of stillness that only came after dying and waking up again.

Rias caught sight of me and gave a small wave, beckoning me over. I made my way to her side.

I glanced at the new guy, then back at her.

"New transfer?"

Rias smiled softly. "Sort of. His name is Yuuto Kiba. I helped him out of a… difficult situation recently, and got him enrolled here."

There was weight in those words. She didn't elaborate. I didn't push. I didn't really need to considering I already knew.

I stepped forward and bowed slightly. "Toshio Amano. Nice to meet you."

Kiba looked up at me slowly, his eyes dragging over my face like they weren't sure I was real. After a long pause, he bowed his head slightly.

"Yuuto Kiba," he said quietly. "Nice to meet you."

Rias turned toward him, her tone lighter. "Toshio is also the captain of the kendo club."

That made Kiba's eyes flicker, barely perceptible—but it was the first real sign of life behind the dead calm.

I tilted my head slightly. "So… do you practice swordsmanship?"

He nodded once. "I do."

"Want to spar sometime?"

There was another pause. His expression didn't change, but the silence stretched long enough to almost feel like a no. Then, finally:

"I think I'd like that."

Before I could respond, Akeno leaned forward with her usual velvet smile, though something about it was gentler than usual.

"Toshio's a good friend of ours," she said. "You'll probably be seeing a lot of him."

That earned me a glance from Kiba. Not a suspicious one—more like he was measuring something I didn't understand. Then he looked at Rias, as if silently asking a question.

Rias gave the tiniest shrug of her shoulders, her face unreadable. Whatever he asked with his eyes, the answer was apparently no idea. I had an idea what the question was. If I knew. I did, but of course they didn't know that, that moment confirming it.

I let the silent exchange slide past me. "You should stop by the kendo club after school," I offered. "We've got space to spar there."

He didn't answer at first. But just as I started to shift away, he nodded.

"I'll come."

With that, I slipped into my usual seat—between the two queens of Kuoh. Akeno tilted her head toward me with an unreadable look. Rias leaned in slightly, brushing her fingers along her hair as she spoke in a low, sincere whisper.

"Thank you," she said. "For trying to include him."

I glanced sideways at her, keeping my tone as dry as ever.

"If he ends up being a good sparring partner, then it's simply optimal resource acquisition. Practical self-interest."

Rias gave a small huff of laughter, and Akeno covered her mouth with a soft giggle.

"I swear," Rias said, "one day you're going to say something emotional and ruin your whole brand."

"Maybe," I murmured.

The class hadn't started yet. Students were still trickling in. For the first time in three days, I felt… anchored. Not entirely whole, but closer. I sat still, hands folded, eyes on the front board.

Then, barely above a whisper, I said it.

"…I missed you both."

They froze.

Not dramatically—but it was enough. Rias stiffened. Akeno's breath caught.

Rias' eyes widened before she turned her head toward me, her entire face flushed a rich, burning pink. Akeno blinked once, stunned and sporting a small blush herself.

She then let out a tiny laugh that sounded almost nervous. Even she was thrown off. That was new.

I looked between them, confused. "What?"

Akeno giggled into her hand again, more genuinely this time, her cheeks still pink. Rias turned back and faced forward, looking down slightly, but I saw the traces of a smile twitch at the corner of her mouth.

"I can't believe you can say that with a straight face," she muttered, still not looking at me.

"It's just the truth," I replied, voice neutral. Rias let out a small laugh.

"Of course it is. The only thing I'd expect from you," Rias stated in a low tone, almost exasperated, like she had given up solving a complex problem due to an unexpected variable.

While I was looking at Rias, I suddenly felt a distinct but familiar softness envelop my left side, arms wrapping around my neck. I turned my head to face a brightly smiling Akeno, eyes closed from the effort, our faces almost touching.

"Well for the record Toshio-chan~, we missed you too." I sighed and looked forward, used to Akeno's antics, however I was utterly surprised to feel a pair of soft lips on my left cheek. My eyes widened, and not just slightly. The contact was brief, and Akeno swiftly returned to her seat, smiling at me with her chin resting on her dainty hand.

"That's a reward for telling us how you felt." I looked over at her, my fingers tracing where she had just kissed me. Then I felt it. My energy sense was passive now so it was always on, and a heavy, furious aura could be felt to my immediate right. 

I looked over to see Rias standing up with her hands on her hips. If looks could use the power of destruction, I could safely say that Akeno would have disintegrated on the spot. I could almost see the demonic energy wafting off of her. Why was she so mad? Didn't Akeno always act like that? She had done much bolder things in the anime with Issei...

Akeno only gave a petite chuckle that I heard from behind me.

"Rias? Everything okay?" I had to ask, what was up with her? She blinked once and looked at me, and her aura calmed down noticeably. Her gaze returned to Akeno.

"We'll be speaking about this later," she grounded out at Akeno, sounding like later promised pain and punishment. I'm not sure why Rias would react quite like that, but I don't think that would be an effective consequence for Akeno, knowing her.

Sona walked up at that moment.

I could feel the pulse of annoyance radiate from her—no, not just annoyance. Disappointment, maybe, or the irritation of someone who expects the world to operate by certain rules and sees those rules violated in real time by her eternal rival. There was a little ripple in her aura, a subtle blue-green corona, as she cut the distance between her and Rias from 10 feet to less than two.

Sona's fingers adjusted her glasses—an old, tic-like motion, but in her case it was ritual: a gesture of reestablishing control.

"Is there a problem, Rias?" she said, voice so clipped it threatened papercuts.

"Do I really need to ask you to not cause a scene in the middle of a classroom?" Something in her tone made it seem like she was more upset at the location, rather than causing a scene itself. Rias shifted her glare at Sona, then her aura wisped out and quickly returned to normal.

"No Souna. Sorry for the disruption." She didn't look like she meant it. Glaring for a moment longer, Sona rolled her eyes and silently made her way back to her seat.

Class started soon after, and trying to distract myself, I thought of Sona. We were still neck and neck academically. I'd catch her glaring at me occasionally. Was she not used to being challenged?

It was kind of, satisfying. I have no idea why. I would challenge her to a game of chess if it weren't for the price of winning. No telling how Rias would react to that.

Somehow I just knew that what just happened with Rias, was going to churn the gossip mill. Several students had seen it after all, even Akeno's… action… toward me.

My gaze drifted across the classroom. Every head that wasn't buried in a textbook was sneaking glances at our quadrant of the room. I saw more than one phone tucked under desks, furtive thumbs flashing across screens.

Already, the narrative was transmogrifying into something else, something grander and wilder than a simple clash of personalities. I could imagine the posts going up on the school message board at that very moment: Queen versus Queen, Civil War at Kuoh, or maybe just a new rumor that Sona and Rias were fighting for my attention now, which was so delusional it was practically performance art.

The rest of class I felt like I was the middle of a battle of tension, literally.

Is that what awkward feels like?

XXX

As the rest of the day dragged on, I could see Rias' glare dim from volcanic to merely simmering. She wasn't seething anymore, but the embers still crackled beneath her calm exterior—especially when she looked in Akeno's direction. Akeno, for her part, wore that same satisfied smile. Like she'd just won a private game no one else was aware of.

When the bell rang for final period, I stood, slinging my bag over my shoulder, and walked over to Kiba.

"Do you want to walk with me to the Kendo Club building?" I asked, tone casual. "Figured you might not know where it is."

He blinked once, still slightly adrift, then gave a small nod. "That would help."

"We'll all go together," Rias said suddenly, rising from her seat with an almost queenly flair. Akeno stood beside her, not missing a beat.

"After all, we wouldn't want to miss the show," she added with a sly glance.

I resisted the urge to sigh. Of course they were coming.

The walk was… quiet.

Not awkward, but quiet. No teasing, no whispered commentary. Just footsteps on the pavement and the low hum of idle chatter from passing students. I kept my eyes forward, but I still noticed how Rias was walking a little closer to me than usual. Our arms didn't touch, but the space between us was thin. Her presence radiated a silent intensity, like she was trying to make a point without words.

I didn't mind. I'd gotten used to her aura by now. It was nice.

As we moved through the courtyard, I caught the tail end of passing conversations.

"Is that the new guy? He's so pretty I thought he was a model."

"He looks like a literal prince—how is this school even real?"

"Wait, why are all four of them walking together? Are they like… the new Four Kings or something?"

Even I couldn't stop my eyebrow from twitching at that last one.

We reached the kendo hall just as the rest of the club members were filtering in. They all saw me and immediately stopped talking.

A synchronized chorus rang out:

"Good afternoon, Amano-sensei!"

Each girl gave a formal bow as they entered—first years, second years, even the third years.

I gave a nod in return, nothing more. Short, clean, practiced. A ritual.

Rias, Akeno, and Kiba all paused behind me. I didn't need to look to feel their expressions. Surprise. Curiosity. Maybe even… confusion.

Without acknowledging their looks, I led them into the main sparring area.

"Wait here," I said, gesturing to the polished floor. "I need to change."

Kiba began rolling up his sleeves and loosening his uniform collar to stretch out his arms. I caught the slight adjustment in his posture—more alert than he'd been all day.

I headed into the locker room and changed into my captain's uniform—custom-ordered and symbolic, more for tradition than practicality. It was a sleeveless, pitch black shihakushō, which I found hilarious in a quiet, personal way. A captain's uniform (minus the haori) for a mortal kendo club… worn by someone who literally carried a Zanpakutō.

Irony, thy name is cosplay.

I wasn't even the one who ordered it. I was completely fine with the standard issue white that everyone else wore. All of the club members pitched in and had it special made after nationals. I didn't even want to ask how they knew all of my measurements perfectly.

When I stepped back out, I saw the reaction immediately.

Rias blinked, visibly startled. Akeno's eyes widened with… pleasure? Then I realized.

Apparently, they hadn't seen my arms before. My shihakushō didn't have sleeves, no doubt on purpose by the all female club. There was nowhere for definition to hide. I wouldn't say my arms were bulky by any means, but the muscle definition definitely seemed to be on par with Olympic athletes, if not a little more. Physique stat level B- for the win.

Rias' blush was subtle—but it was there. Akeno? She looked downright delighted, her fingers laced under her chin like she was watching a dessert tray roll by.

I cleared my throat and ignored it.

"Rias, Akeno—please stand off to the side with the rest of the club. It'll be safer."

They nodded and joined the other girls, who were now forming a curious semicircle near the edge of the room. The buzz of conversation had returned in quiet murmurs.

"Is that the new guy?"

"Is he sparring with Amano-sensei?"

"He's gonna lose for sure."

"I hope they don't go too hard, he's cute…"

I could see Kiba stiffen slightly as the whispers reached him. He hadn't said anything yet, but the energy around him had shifted. The listlessness was gone, replaced with a subtle edge—like a blade being pulled from its sheath.

I tossed him a shinai. He caught it one-handed and gave it a few slow test swings. Fluid. Intentional. Yeah… he wasn't just posturing.

"Don't hold back," I told him. "If you do, you'll lose."

He glanced toward Rias, just for a second. She gave him a small, almost imperceptible nod.

His grip tightened.

I turned to Hozuki, who was standing near the storage cubbies with the attendance sheet.

"Hozuki, can you ref this one?"

She blinked twice, looking between me and Kiba like she wasn't sure if she heard me right. Then she grinned.

"Yes, Sensei. Happily."

She stepped out to the center and bowed to us both. "Do either of you want protective armor?"

"No," I replied immediately.

Kiba matched it. "I don't need it."

A ripple of gasps went through the club.

I couldn't blame them. Most high schoolers never sparred without at least a faceguard. But I trusted my reflexes. And judging by the calm in Kiba's stance, he knew what he was doing too. That, and he probably thought his new devil toughness would save him.

Hozuki stepped back, taking position.

"Ready…" she called, eyes flicking between us. "Begin!"

The tension crackled in the air as I faced off against Kiba. The room fell silent, every breath and movement heightened to an almost unbearable level. Sensations of anticipation and energy charged the atmosphere as we squared off.

I started things off as I lunged forward, my shinai flashing towards Kiba's shoulder with precision. Kiba parried effortlessly, countering with a swift strike aimed at my midsection. I danced back, narrowly avoiding the blow.

"Nice move," Kiba remarked, a hint of challenge in his tone.

I smirked, a glint of determination in my eye. "Just getting started."

His eyes gleamed with anticipation.

Our movements became a blur of motion, each strike and parry executed with skill and speed. The sound of wood meeting wood echoed through the room, punctuated by the occasional grunt or sharp exhale.

"You're not bad," Kiba said, a bead of sweat trickling down his brow.

I grinned, feeling the thrill of adrenaline coursing through me. "Likewise." I hadn't broken a sweat yet.

XXX

Yuuto Kiba's Perspective

I didn't know what to think of him.

Toshio Amano.

Polite. Distant. Quiet in a way that felt purposeful. There was something strange about him, but I couldn't quite put my finger on it. His presence was calm but carried weight. Not magical, not devilish—just… centered. And after what I'd just been through, that didn't mean much to me.

I'd died. Literally. And now I lived again by Rias' grace. That was all I needed to process right now. Everything else—classrooms, uniforms, gossip, even Toshio—felt muted by comparison. Unreal.

The only reason I had a sliver of interest in this guy was because my King seemed to trust him. Rias talked about him like he mattered. And Akeno… well, I'd never seen her smile at anyone like that before, however briefly I've known her.

So when he invited me to spar, I accepted. Why not? I had nothing to lose, and if nothing else, it would be a way to reorient myself, or distract myself. I was confident in my swordsmanship. I'd trained hard before I died, though not totally my choice, and I had my new strength now—devil strength. Enhanced speed, power, endurance. Though since I'm sparring with a human, I shouldn't need it. At least that's what I thought.

No human should've been able to match me.

And yet, here I was.

The moment Hozuki called the start, Toshio lunged like a coiled spring. His shinai sliced toward my shoulder with precise intent. I blocked without thinking, my body moving on instinct, and countered with a sharp strike to his side.

He retreated with ease, his eyes never leaving mine.

"Nice move," I offered, testing his reactions.

"Just getting started," he replied, deadpan. Not cocky. Just honest.

I narrowed my eyes. Alright then.

We circled. Struck. Parried. Moved again. The sound of bamboo clashing filled the air. Each exchange grew faster, tighter, more fluid. He matched me beat for beat, and I felt myself focusing in a way I hadn't since… before everything.

"You're not bad," I admitted, sweat forming on my brow.

"Likewise," he said—calm, steady, like he was still warming up.

But that couldn't be right.

He wasn't sweating. Wasn't breathing hard. His feet moved with surgical precision. His stance adjusted micro-inches at a time. My hits came fast, angled, unpredictable—but he blocked or deflected them all without breaking form.

What the hell?

I narrowed my stance and dipped into my strength, letting the power Rias had gifted me flow into my limbs. My next strike was faster. Harder. I heard a few gasps from the club girls on the sidelines as our shinais cracked together again, louder this time. I pressed harder, changing angles rapidly, feinting low then twisting high.

Toshio kept up. Effortlessly.

Each time I pushed, he matched.

No, I realized. He didn't just match. He anticipated.

His shinai moved to intercept before I finished committing. He wasn't reacting—he was reading me. Like a chess player already ten moves deep.

"You sure you're just a human?" I muttered between strikes, low enough so only he could hear it.

"I think about that a lot, actually," he said evenly, blocking a strike aimed for his knee with the butt of his shinai and sliding back with clean footwork.

Damn it. I wasn't even holding back anymore. And he still wasn't flinching.

My pride wouldn't let this stand.

I surged forward, pushing my speed toward its upper limit. The room became a blur of light and sound. My movements blurred—twisting strikes, low lunges, rotational sweeps designed to test timing and control. I was fast enough now to overwhelm most foes. Certainly human ones. Not him.

Toshio parried everything. Minimal motion. Maximum efficiency.

And then he stopped moving.

He just… stood there.

Breathing slow. Shinai relaxed at his side. His gaze fixed on me.

I didn't understand.

He wasn't even defending anymore. Just waiting.

I darted back, then circled wide, trying to flank. I moved fast enough to make a blur to most eyes. My footing was perfect. My strike clean. I pushed down the last sliver of hesitation and committed. All my focus. All my strength. No fear of consequence.

I raised my shinai, aimed for his shoulder, and brought it down with everything I had.

"Kiba, stop!" I heard Rias call from the sideline.

Too late.

As my shinai descended, Toshio moved.

A blur. That's all I saw.

He twisted at the waist, not an inch wasted, and his shinai whipped up and across with speed I barely perceived.

The clash of wood echoed like a gunshot.

The force jarred my arms. The impact stopped me mid-strike.

And then—snap.

I stumbled past him from my own momentum, landing several paces behind. My feet skidded against the polished floor, breath ragged in my chest.

I looked down at my shinai.

Broken completely in half.

The top half splintered cleanly from the force of his counterstrike.

I spun, wide-eyed, facing Toshio—who was already turned toward me. His expression was calm, unreadable. His own shinai was cracked in half, was already right next to me… and he tapped me on the shoulder.

"And that's the match." He had stated it in such a neutral tone, but his face held a small smile.

I stood there, breathless.

And for the first time since being reborn, I felt something new stirring in my chest.

Motivation.

XXX

Rias Perspective

The moment Toshio stepped out in his sleeveless uniform, I felt my breath catch in my throat.

I had felt the muscle before—through light touches, passing contact, the occasional lean-in when we sat together during lunch—but seeing it?

That was something else entirely.

His arms were… stunning. Not bulky like a bodybuilder's, but coiled and refined, every line carved with purpose. Clean definition from wrist to shoulder. Veins along the forearm. The kind of strength that came from dedication, not vanity. Functional power.

"Satans below, how had I never seen them before?"

Then I remembered—he always wore the full school uniform. The blazer, the long sleeves, buttoned all the way to the collar like he was allergic to showing skin. A puzzle piece fell into place. That distant formality, that effortless self-control, those abilities he tries to hide… it extended even to his wardrobe.

And now that I'd seen a glimpse? I couldn't help but wonder what the rest of him looked like underneath…

I quickly snapped out of that line of thought as he gestured toward us.

"Rias, Akeno—please stand off to the side with the rest of the club. It'll be safer."

I nodded, silently thankful for the excuse to move.

It felt odd, standing here with the other students. We were surrounded by kendo club members now—girls of all years, buzzing with excitement. But their attention wasn't on Akeno or me. It was on him.

Their captain.

And for once… I wasn't the center of attention.

It was novel. A little jarring. But not unpleasant.

I let myself glance at Kiba as he took his position. His expression was neutral, but I knew that stance. He was taking this seriously. After his reincarnation, Akeno and I spent two days with him to make sure he was okay, and yesterday she had Yuuto show her what he could do by sparring with Koneko. She remembered his serious stance.

Good.

I was excited—but nervous too. I knew Kiba's strength. He was fast. Strong. A knight's speed alone should make him faster than any human could realistically handle. Toshio might be skilled—incredibly so—but even he had to have limits. Right?

Still… I didn't know how much power Toshio actually had. All I knew was that he was fast. And sharp. And unnervingly composed.

Hozuki called for the match to begin.

And then they moved.

At first it was light—probing exchanges, a test of rhythm. Kiba opened strong after Toshio's initial strike, but Toshio matched him. Effortlessly. I watched as my knight lunged, turned, feinted—and Toshio just flowed around him. Calm, deliberate, unshaken.

I blinked. Was Kiba already using his speed?

No, not yet. It was the borderline between what a human could accomplish and a knights strength.

He looked at me, as if silently asking permission.

I gave the smallest nod. He needed it.

He needed something to keep up. As long as he didn't take it too far, Toshio should be fine.

The next exchange was faster—noticeably. I could feel the shift in air pressure with every strike. The kendo girls gasped and murmured as their bamboo swords clashed again and again, but Toshio remained unflinching. His body moved like water, absorbing force and returning it without excess.

Was this really a human?

Kiba began pushing his limits, his movements now a blur to the human eye. But Toshio didn't fall behind. If anything… he seemed to anticipate it.

Every escalation was met with exact precision.

I felt a prickle of anxiety in my chest.

Kiba wouldn't go too much farther, would he?

Then I saw him pull wide, circle around Toshio's blind spot. I saw the position of his feet—the build-up in his stance. My eyes widened.

No… he's going all out.

"Kiba, stop!" I called, the words sharp and sudden, panic slipping into my voice. "That could seriously injure him!" In my sudden panic, I had forgotten to lace my call with a king's command, something I seldom have ever used.

But it was too late.

Kiba's shinai came down with full force.

And then—CRACK.

Toshio spun faster than I could process. His body turned in a clean pivot, shinai already in motion. They met mid-air in a thunderclap of bamboo and momentum.

The club fell completely silent.

Kiba stumbled past him, panting. His shinai—split in half.

Toshio turned calmly, barely winded. With fluid grace, he stepped forward and put his own broken shinai next to Kiba, and as her knight turned around he tapped Kiba's shoulder with it.

"And that's the match," he said simply.

My mouth was slightly open. I closed it quickly.

I knew Toshio was impressive. I thought I had some idea of his capabilities. But this?

This wasn't human. It couldn't be.

I overheard the whispers behind me.

"Was captain-sensei always that good?"

"Did you see that speed? That was unreal!"

"I need to train way harder…"

"This is captain-sensei's true level?!"

I frowned. That wasn't good. I couldn't let the club dwell too long on what they'd seen.

With a single thought, I pushed a pulse of magic from my palm—Memory Manipulation. It rippled outward like a breeze, subtle and undetectable. The kind of spell Akeno and I used occasionally after incidents like this. A soft nudge, no more. Just enough to dull the edge of the memory. So they'd remember a fast spar, not an impossible one.

The tension in the room eased almost immediately.

Except for Akeno.

I glanced sideways and had to stop myself from groaning.

She was leaning on the wall, eyes glazed over, her thighs subtly pressing together and shifting. Her breathing was light but unsteady. I knew that look.

I rolled my eyes.

Of course that's how she's reacting.

I stepped forward as the match officially ended, my expression composed.

"That was quite the match," I said lightly, addressing both of them.

Kiba turned to Toshio, voice low enough that no one else could hear.

"There's no way you're human."

Toshio only shrugged.

I swallowed. He knows. Of course he knows. After that, how could he not? And what Kiba just pulled…

"Kiba I can't believe you'd go all out on…someone like him. We need to have a conversation about holding back later," I scolded quietly. Yuuto looked down in brief shame for not controlling himself. I wouldn't be too hard on him, I knew he just wanted to win. His instincts from what he just went through with that abhorrent experimental project likely took over.

I turned back to Toshio.

I resolved then and there—I'd tell him soon. About us. About everything.

Toshio cut in. "It's nothing I couldn't handle."

His tone was cool, matter-of-fact. No pride. Just observation.

Then he stepped toward Kiba and bowed slightly.

"Thank you for the match."

Kiba straightened, surprised, then quickly bowed back. "Same to you."

Toshio gave a faint smirk. "We should do it more often. Maybe with real swords next time. No crowd."

Even I was surprised by that. Kiba's eyebrows lifted slightly in shock.

"…Yeah. Sure," he said after a beat.

Toshio turned to us. "Anyway. Time to get back to my disciples."

There was a twinge of sarcasm in his voice, the dry humor he always wore like armor.

"I'll see you all later."

We all murmured our goodbyes, Akeno finally coming up. Toshio gave her a strange look. With how she was looking at him, I didn't blame him. We were going to have a talk. I stayed at the back making sure Akeno was really going to leave as we made our way to the door.

Then—his hand gently touched my upper arm with a slight pull.

I turned.

My eyes flicked to his hand first—those damn arms again—and then to his face.

He met my gaze, glanced behind me at the girls still whispering, then looked back at me.

"Thank you for doing that," he said softly.

My eyes widened. He noticed? How?

I felt a flush crawl up my neck, but smiled and gave a quiet nod. "I'll see you tomorrow."

He gave a small smile—his real one, not the polite one. "I'm looking forward to it." I could feel the heat rise to my cheeks.

As I walked away, I could feel it—the fluttering in my stomach, the gentle thrum under my skin.

I wasn't sure if it was from the spar, the touch, or the look in his eyes.

But I knew one thing. Akeno wasn't going to beat me to any more firsts.