DxD: Fusion

Day 97 — Sona Sitri (Third Person)

The soft clack of polished shoes echoed through the empty, but decorated hallways of the old school building as Sona Sitri made her way toward the Occult Research Clubroom. Beside her, as always, was her Queen, Tsubaki Shinra—calm, composed, and carrying herself with silent dignity, as she expected her servants to act. 

The two of them cut a contrasting image against the faintly gothic corridors of the interior, a structure that Kuoh Academy no longer officially used… except, of course, for the Gremory heiress' personal sanctum.

Sona let her gaze drift across the hall, eyes narrowing slightly.

"The amount of over-design in this place is… absurd," she muttered.

The dark red wood of the walls, the carefully spaced chandeliers, the velvet-carpeted stairs leading to the second floor—it all screamed indulgence. The smell of imported incense lingered faintly, mixing with fresh polish and sweet tea leaves. It felt more like a noble's estate than a clubroom. Then again, Rias was a noble, and she'd certainly never apologized for acting like one.

Tsubaki gave a soft hum beside her, saying nothing, though Sona could guess what she was thinking. She always could.

"The Student Council room is cleaner. Brighter. Functional," Sona continued, as if defending herself from some unseen critic. "This is all just… aesthetic. Impractical aesthetic."

Tsubaki nodded again, though Sona detected the barest hint of a smile on her lips.

But Sona's thoughts weren't truly on interior design. No, her reason for coming today was far more pressing.

I need answers, she thought.

Answers about a certain anomaly.

Toshio Amano.

She didn't like mysteries. And Toshio—he was a walking contradiction wrapped in an enigma.

From the day he enrolled, he'd matched her academic record exactly. Every test, every quiz, every essay. One hundred percent across the board. No one had ever done that, besides her. Not even in subjects outside her specialization. Not even once. Sona prided herself on academic dominance. On excellence. On control.

But this boy?

He didn't even try.

She'd watched him in class. No note-taking. No flashcards. No eye contact with the board. Half the time he looked like he was thinking about a different subject entirely—if not reading something unrelated beneath his desk.

She hadn't seen him so much as study a single line from one of the assigned textbooks. And still he produced perfect results. Every assignment turned in on time and every exam a perfect score.

Sona now had a stake in how Kuoh Academy functioned. She had set the academic bar higher than it was before, not just to match her standards, but to weed out the delinquents and those not serious about their education. Despite the increased difficulty, it didn't phase Toshio a single iota.

She had suspected cheating. Of course she had. But she'd seen the books he brought with him during free periods and lunch.

The Road to Reality. Quantum Field Theory. Three-Dimensional Topology. Phenomenology of Spirit. Not just complex. Obscure. Some were beyond college level, crossing over into the territory of doctorate level theory. 

Even more surprising; he read these in English. As far as she could find out from school records and her own investigation, he was a native born Japanese kid. How could he read texts like those in English? Even native speakers would feel like they were reading another language with texts of that level. It was absurd.

Occasionally, she'd see him read something completely opposite, like Lord of the Wings. To her understanding, it was a fantasy novel series about giant eagles or something.

She hadn't gathered much from her investigation either. He had no family on record. Only a basic life insurance inheritance. Quiet. Private. Emotionally distant. And now, somehow, also captain of the kendo club—one that had placed three girls in the top ten at regionals this year, with one making it to nationals.

And as if all of that weren't suspicious enough, Rias and Akeno—Rias and Akeno—were always by his side. Like they were orbiting him.

No one pulled those two. No one.

Something was off.

And if Rias wasn't going to tell her, then Sona would extract it herself.

She reached the ornate double doors of the ORC room and opened them without knocking. The scent of hibiscus tea and parchment hit her immediately.

Inside, Rias Gremory sat at her desk, legs crossed regally, a small stack of devil contracts resting before her. Akeno stood nearby in her usual maid-like stance, pouring steaming tea with the poise of a priestess. Koneko was curled up on a couch, absently munching on a taiyaki. Kiba was nowhere to be seen—likely out on a contract run.

Rias looked up and smiled. "Sona. How rare."

"Rias," Sona greeted coolly, stepping inside. "I hope I'm not interrupting your… décor appreciation time."

"Not at all," Rias replied with a chuckle. "We were just going over our weekly reports. Please, have a seat."

Sona accepted the offer and sat on the sofa next to Rias' desk. Tsubaki, ever the silent sentinel, took her place behind her.

Rias set down her pen and circled around the desk, leaning against its front edge with casual grace. Her smile was serene. Almost too serene.

Sona didn't waste time.

"I'm here about Toshio."

Rias blinked once, then tilted her head ever so slightly. "Are you?"

"What is he?"

That gave Rias pause. She tapped her chin thoughtfully, as if pondering a trivia question.

"You know, Sona," she said slowly, "I'm not really sure."

She smiled, like she was deliberately withholding something.

Sona's eyes narrowed.

"You're not sure? You spend nearly every lunch with him. Akeno practically hangs off him like a shadow. And yet you don't know what he is?"

Rias shrugged. "He hasn't revealed anything. Not directly. He has some kind of power, but he keeps it well-contained. Though, we haven't asked either." She tapped her chin with a delicate finger.

"That's dangerous, Rias," Sona said sharply. "You're the head of a noble peerage. You bring an unknown anomaly into your orbit and you don't even screen him? You don't probe for his identity? Being in our territory. All for his allegiance? He could very well be a disguised threat from one of our enemies."

Rias let out a laugh—short, musical, and utterly amused.

Sona didn't see the joke.

"I'm serious."

"I know," Rias said, still smiling. Then she let it drop.

A ripple of pressure expanded outward as Rias released a sliver of her magical aura—dark and powerful, like fire wrapped in the abyss. The room darkened, just slightly. Enough to convey the message.

"I don't appreciate you calling him a threat." Rias had an eerie smile, but a glare that could cause something to spontaneously combust. Which she could, Sona had seen it before.

Sona stiffened, mildly taken aback. She glanced at Tsubaki, who remained stone-faced, though her hand had shifted closer to her pocket—ready, but not reacting yet.

Sona folded her hands over her knee.

"I don't mean disrespect. But he is an anomaly."

"And I trust him," Rias said simply.

Sona frowned. How could Rias trust him with such blind faith?

After a beat, she sighed.

"Fine. I'll trust your judgment. For now."

"Good," Rias said with her usual regal sweetness.

Akeno, ever on cue, appeared with a second teacup and placed it delicately before Sona. "Would you care for tea?"

Sona accepted with a nod. "Thank you."

Tsubaki declined with a shake of her head.

The mood in the room settled slightly.

Rias took a small sip of her own tea before glancing sideways at Sona.

"For what it's worth… he sparred with Kiba three days ago. Matched him, strike for strike. Even when Kiba went all out."

The cup paused at Sona's lips. She knew exactly what Rias meant by that.

"…What?"

Rias smirked over her rim.

"You heard me."

"That's…" Sona started, but couldn't finish.

Impossible?

No. She'd already accepted that possibility the moment she walked in. His intellect alone seemed impossible.

Still, the idea of a human—not a Reincarnated Devil nor angel, not a Sacred Gear user, just a human—matching a Knight's speed and strength?

Absurd.

And yet…

She cleared her throat, returning to composure.

"I see."

Her eyes flicked up toward Rias, calculating.

"You haven't claimed him yet."

"No," Rias admitted. "Not yet."

Sona considered. "Then perhaps I'll extend an offer. Maybe a game of chess, at the very least."

That made Rias' smile tighten.

"With your personality?" Rias said. "I doubt you'll get very far."

Sona blinked. "What does that mean?"

"You and he are too similar," Rias said, tone light but pointed. "And you know what happens when two people try to out-logic each other."

"I assumed logic would create compatibility," Sona said evenly. "Predictable frameworks lead to sustainable interactions."

Akeno let out a quiet giggle.

Rias laughed again. "Go ahead and try. I don't think you can offer him something worth his time."

She set her cup down.

Sona narrowed her eyes at that, briefly glancing at Rias' chest. It couldn't be that could it? Toshio didn't seem the type, yet he never did tell them to stop… Sona felt a glimmer of inadequacy before she perished the thought.

"In any case, I'll be revealing our true nature to him before summer break. I've already decided."

Sona raised an eyebrow. "So soon? Why involve him? He's only a human after all. Just because we have to know his cards doesn't mean we have to reveal ours."

Rias nodded. "He can handle it. And I'd rather him hear it from me than someone else." Rias gave Sona a pointed look. Sona narrowed her eyes in an accusatory fashion.

"You're planning on telling him and inviting him to your peerage." Sona stated, rather than asked.

"Actually that's where you'd be wrong. I just feel like telling him. We're friends after all, and friends shouldn't keep secrets." Rias grinned. The hypocrisy was not lost on Sona.

Sona took another slow sip, thinking.

"Very well. I'll wait until after summer break, then, provided you will as well."

"I would appreciate it if you did." Sona noticed that Rias didn't agree to those terms.

She rose gracefully from the couch. "Thank you for the tea."

Akeno bowed slightly, though Sona noticed something odd—her knuckles were white around the tray, her expression just a little too distant.

"I'm glad you enjoyed it," Akeno stated without her usual gentle politeness. It was, neutral; very unlike Akeno, based on Sona previous interactions with the queen piece.

Sona filed the observation away.

She turned to leave, Tsubaki falling into step behind her.

As the heavy doors shut behind them, Sona exhaled slowly. They walked out of the building and walked toward the direction of the student council room.

Tsubaki glanced at her.

"Did you get the intel you needed?"

"Not entirely," Sona replied. "But I have enough. Enough to make a choice."

"Do you think Rias will try to recruit him?" Tsubaki's tone was neutral, but had a lilt of curiosity mixed in.

"Knowing her, undoubtedly. You heard what she said." Sona looked down in thought. "But for some reason, I have a feeling he won't join. He never asked to be around them, yet they constantly surround him. It appears like we're quite similar, so I bet I can establish stronger rapport with him." Tsubaki merely nodded.

They moved down the hall, their steps echoing once more.

"I'm not going to lose to Rias on this one," Sona said, more to herself than her Queen. "I'll recruit him before she does."

Tsubaki smiled faintly but said nothing.

But inside, Sona's mind was already racing. Planning. Scheming.

"Toshio Amano… you're not getting away from both of us. Especially not from me."

At her king's proclamation, Tsubaki remained silent.

XXX

Day 101: Toshio Perspective

It was the last day before summer break.

The halls buzzed with anticipation—students whispering about fireworks, beach trips, last-minute cram sessions before their clubs shut down for the season. Even Sona looked less uptight than usual, which felt like a minor apocalypse in itself.

But I wasn't thinking about summer.

I replayed a certain crimson haired beauty's words again, more vivid than the hum of the student body, the static of so many shifting lives gathering into the last hours of semester. "Can you stop by the clubroom after class? I need to talk to you. It's… important." The pause before "important," that unsure inhale, was the breath before a door opened that wouldn't close again.

This felt serious. Her eyes were steady, her aura calm but firm. The way she said it almost sounded like an invitation. Or maybe… a confession? Not likely.

I already knew what it was of course. Probably. That's the thing about probability, it always leaves room for the chance of something unexpected happening.

I was actually wondering when she would tell me. I had a running bet with myself initially that it would have been days after Kiba and I's first spar. I was wrong of course.

But I wasn't heading to the ORC just yet.

After the last class of the day, I met up with Kiba near the lockers.

"Hey Kiba. Would you like to spar? The kendo hall is empty, our last meet until after break was yesterday, so it'll just be us." Kiba looked like he knew what I was implying. He responded soon after.

"Sure, I don't have to be at the ORC until a little later." He finishes his exchange of items with his locker and closes it, and we make our way to the kendo hall.

After we set our things down, I led him to the sparring mat, and turned to face him. He looked at me in minor confusion. He wanted to know where the Shinai's were.

"Ready for a real match?" I asked with a challenging smirk.

He looked at me, surprised. "Like… with real swords? I thought you were just kidding before."

"I don't 'kid' about my endeavors." I gave him a flat look.

"Yeah I suppose that's true, I don't think I've ever heard you even joke around. Just that same dry humor." He blew air from his nose in place of a laugh.

"I would prefer not to, Rias would end me if I hurt you," Kiba said, trying to blow me off. He really thinks…

"Do you even have swords for us to use? They tend to be expensive and sparring with them can damage them pretty badly."

Wasting no words, I reached out in front of me, my hand disappearing. Kiba's eyes snap to attention. Slowly, I drag my sword out of my inventory, spatial magic for those not in the know. Those static sparks and licks of electricity dance across the edge of the blade at it's border to my gamer storage, until it's completely drawn out.

"First battle against another sword. Let's do this, and maybe have fun. Together." I squeezed the handle, hoping my thoughts were relayed.

Kiba was now wide eyed in shock, taking a hesitant step back like he just saw a ghost.

"It's not what you're thinking, this is the one and only sword I can produce. So go ahead and make your own." Kiba, now was at a complete loss for words. I did just allude to knowing what his sacred gear was.

Eventually he recovered, shaking his head from the shock. He raised his arm and flicked it down, a pitch black longsword a bit longer than my katana. I didn't flinch.

"Yeah there's no way you're human, at least not completely. There are no sacred gears that match the description of the abilities you've shown so far, especially what you just did with your sword. The only explanation is that you're a magician, and Buchou told me none of them have the physical capabilities you have." I shrugged.

"As of now, I am 100% human. I just happen to have a few things most people don't." Certainly not a lie.

"And the way you said… you probably know what we are, don't you." Kiba stated rather than asked, his stance becoming a bit guarded, for some reason.

"Why does that even matter? Can we start?" Ha! Look at me getting impatient. Kiba didn't look like he was very happy that I dodged his question. He sighed, and slowly lifted his blade up to get into his initial battle stance.

"Oh, before we start," I willed my equipment screen to come up. My body flashed a white light and I was suddenly in my black Shihakushō. "It's only fitting." He looked even more confused as I revealed more of my abilities. Eh, let his little mind think. I shifted into my battle stance.

"First blood wins?" I couldn't help but smirk. Kiba, surprisingly, reciprocated.

"Sounds good."

"Go all out. No holding back." He lifted an eyebrow.

"You sure?"

"Completely."

He nodded once—and then he vanished.

He came at me fast, blade sweeping low, forcing a quick backstep. I blocked cleanly, our swords clanging with a satisfying note of steel-on-steel. No shinai this time. Real weight. Real edge. Real stakes. Sparks exploded off our blades like a miniature firework.

Good.

Kiba pressed, a diagonal upward cut whistling inches from my jaw, then—without telegraph—snapped it into a lateral sweep. I ducked it, felt the wind of the blade ruffle my hair, and countered with a thrust for his chest. He pivoted out with a dancer's grace, the tip of my sword missing by a fraction. We reset, circling.

His transitions were sharp. Smooth. His footwork had improved since the last spar. I sidestepped and parried, the ringing sound echoing through the empty dojo.

"You're quicker today," I noted.

"You said to go all out," he replied, breath even.

Our swords sang as they moved, the sound echoing off the walls, each strike filled with intent and purpose. Kiba lunged forward, his movements fluid and controlled, while I matched him move for move, my black Shihakushō fluttering in the breeze created by our swift exchanges.

I dipped low and lunged, aiming for his shoulder, but he parried and twisted out of the way. Another exchange, three strikes in quick succession. He met them all.

I had to admit—he was good.

I could feel myself having to use Reiryoku Reinforcement again. Tiny pulses of energy weaving through muscle and tendon, augmenting each step, each swing, just enough to meet his devil-enhanced strength.

And that annoyed me.

My base Physique stat was B-. My Hohō, also B-. Even with high ranks in Agility and Shunpo, I still had to augment with spiritual power just to keep up with a Knight—one of the fastest roles in a devil's peerage, sure, but not exactly top-tier in raw destructive power. And, he was still just a low class devil.

So what gave?

Was it a race difference? Did being a devil shift the scale of the letter grades that much? Or maybe it was exponential scaling, and I was still too low on the curve to realize it. Some part of me wanted to ask the system. Another part of me wanted to keep fighting until I found the answer the old-fashioned way.

Whatever it was, I didn't like it. I didn't want to have to rely completely on reiryoku to solve all my problems. I wanted raw stat capability. Plus, the higher my base stats, the more powerful I would become when I did use reiryoku enhancements. 

Still… I couldn't deny it.

Kiba was sharp.

His style was polished, trained. If I had to guess, he was working within the foundation of a known form—maybe the ninth or tenth kata of a traditional knight-based sword style, adapted for his speed.

I, on the other hand, was stuck at Advanced Swordsmanship Rank 3. Stagnating. Improvising. Without style. Applying logic and memory to close gaps, rather than special techniques or sword forms. Coasting on the fundamentals.

I hoped my Zanpakutō spirit would change that.

I didn't know how, exactly, but I had this feeling—deep in my bones—that she knew something. Something old. Something personal. A style not born from manuals or tradition, but from pain. From truth.

If anyone could teach me how to fight like myself, it would be her. I hoped I got to see her again. I wonder if she felt the same?

Kiba came again, a rapid three-hit combo aimed to break my guard. I slipped to the side and turned his blade aside with the flat of mine.

Sparks flew as our swords met, sending cascades of light scattering across the room, illuminating our figures in a dance of combat. Each step we took was deliberate, each strike calculated, as we tested each other's strengths and weaknesses.

"You're pushing harder today," I said.

He grinned, eyes sharp. "You keep matching me. I have to stay ahead."

I returned the smile. "Good. Keep going."

My movements were calculated and precise, my strikes landing with deadly accuracy. Kiba, on the other hand, moved with fluid grace and speed, his sword a blur of motion as he sought an opening in my defenses. I had none. The difference between basic and advanced most likely.

We clashed again—blade to blade, shoulder to shoulder. I pivoted inside his guard and pushed him back with a low sweep, forcing him into a short hop to avoid a trip.

His movements were faster now. Cleaner. He was learning, even mid-fight. Not just falling into form, but improvising. Trying new angles, new footwork. He even attempted a rising upward stab I hadn't seen from him before.

It almost worked.

"Where did you pull that from?" I asked, deflecting the thrust with a twist of my wrist.

"You've inspired me," he said with a smirk.

I chuckled—short and genuine. "You're better than I thought." He probably didn't know I was referring to his innate talent to wield a blade.

A blur of movement as we locked again.

Strike. Parry. Disengage. Reengage.

I noticed it then—how quickly he was catching up. How far he'd come in just one fight. I'd been worried before that he wouldn't push me. That he wouldn't be enough.

If we kept this up—if he kept improving like this—by third year, we'd both be pushing the boundaries of the beginner ranks of Master Swordsmanship. And with my Combat Instruction skill…?

I could help him get there. Help him grow faster than he ever could in canon.

We'd push each other. Evolve together.

Honestly… it felt good. I hadn't had a proper rival in anything physical since I could remember, especially not in this life.

Even watching the anime, Kiba never felt that strong. Solid, yes. At least in swordsmanship. But not groundbreaking. Based on the scenes from the first two seasons, he was only slightly ahead of where I was now—and I was just finishing my first term of first year. He often relied on his sacred gear over sword talent. That stagnation had to come from a lack of proper sparring partners. Sparring with Koneko does not make a good match for a swordsman to get better.

That was going to change.

The gap was going to shrink.

I lunged, Kiba parried—and countered with a spinning arc aimed at my shoulder. I ducked under and hooked his wrist with my free hand, twisting until he had to pivot back to avoid being disarmed. He spun wide, regained footing, and smiled.

I returned the smile.

We reset, about 10 feet of distance between us.

"Well Kiba, let's see if you can keep up with this." I smirked. My form blurred, and disappeared. Kiba reacted, desperately twisting his body to block the overhead strike.

"Come on, that was a slow one!"

I vanished again.

Steel met steel once more.

XXX

Rias Perspective

Kiba was late.

Which was strange. He was usually punctual, especially when I asked him to be somewhere on time. I was just about to comment on it when the door creaked open, and in walked my Knight, golden hair tousled slightly, uniform still neat despite the summer heat.

"You're late," I said, lifting my gaze from the contract reports on my desk.

And then I saw who followed him in.

Toshio.

I blinked, momentarily caught off guard. I hadn't expected them to arrive together. I had invited Toshio personally at lunch, told him I needed to speak with him after class about something important. As always, his response had been vague, noncommittal.

"I just may," he'd said.

Which in Toshio-speak usually meant anything from an outright refusal to a delayed maybe.

I'd spent the last hour going over contract forms, trying not to let my thoughts drift—but part of me was anxious. Worried he wouldn't come. Worried I'd missed my chance to finally be honest with him before we left for summer break. But here he was, stepping into our little sanctuary like he belonged there. Like it wasn't the first time.

Koneko didn't seem interested at first, but I'm sure she saw my expression towards the newcomer, and she sat up a little straighter.

But then I noticed something else.

Kiba had a faint scratch along his forearm, a thin line of dried blood just beneath the sleeve he hadn't rolled all the way back down.

"Kiba," I said, voice low and sharp with worry, "what happened to your arm?" He looked at the wound as though only just aware of it. There was a flicker of annoyance, then wry resignation.

"Ah. Toshio and I sparred with real swords. The win condition was first blood." His face grimaced slightly

…What?

"You did what?" I stood, incredulous. "You used real swords against him?"

"I was trying to subtly talk him out of it, but then he drew his sword from nowhere. I knew he was serious and could keep up. So I drew my own." I crossed my arms under my bust.

"I was going to hold back at first," Kiba said quickly, hands raised. "But he insisted I go all out, talking about my full power. I didn't even win." He muttered just loud enough for me to hear.

"Just like before, he ended up being much faster than me."

I turned my gaze toward Toshio. I guess that would explain why he was wearing his Shihakushō.

He only tilted his head. Calm. Neutral. Like he hadn't just fought my Knight with real weapons.

I pinched the bridge of my nose trying not to sigh. I knew I had to ask.

"This is going to become a regular thing isn't it?"

I looked up to see Toshio looking straight in my eyes, responding without hesitation. "Likely." I did sigh at that.

"Please try to keep injuries to an absolute minimum. I can heal Kiba, I can't heal you, Toshio." Despite not having revealed it yet, it didn't seem like it mattered. Toshio knew something. Plus he merely nodded at me stating I can heal people like he already knew what that meant…

"My body is pretty tough. I'd be surprised if he could injure me beyond scratches." No boasting, stating simple fact. It had a poor effect on Kiba. He seemed frustrated, but still driven. Toshio really didn't know how his words affected people sometimes.

"Well, at the very least, don't injure Kiba."

"I would never intentionally." I couldn't help but shake my head at that.

I motioned for him to take a seat. He sat on the velvet couch like he had done it a million times before, which was odd, but also so on brand for him.

"Well, since you're here, I suppose it's time you met the rest of the club."

I gestured to the smallest of us, who was perched on the arm of a chair with a plate of sweets.

"That's Koneko Toujou."

She stared at him, licking the last crumbs of taiyaki from her fingers.

"Hi," she said flatly.

Toshio nodded in return. "Hello."

I resisted the urge to laugh. That was probably the warmest Koneko had ever sounded to someone on a first meeting.

"She's… one of us," I added. "But technically still a middle schooler. First year of high school starts in two years for her, so she doesn't come to the main building often unless it's for ORC business."

Koneko blinked slowly and went back to her snack without comment. Toshio didn't seem fazed unsurprisingly.

Then Akeno drifted in from the side.

She glided across the room, skirt swishing just so, and made a show of lowering herself beside Toshio. "I made my specialty blend today, just for you~," she cooed, voice honeyed and lilting with subtle undertones. The steam rose between them, fragrant and warm.

She poured with a slow, deliberate grace, every gesture a small seduction—her hand just barely brushing his as she handed over the cup, her sleeve trailing the air with that faint, electric scent of lavender and sun-warmed skin.

Toshio regarded the offering with his usual stillness. He accepted the cup, fingers steady, eyes fixed on Akeno's face rather than the plunging neckline she'd so artfully arranged in his line of sight, her chest so close it was practically grazing his face. She even had the gall to unbutton the top buttons of her school blouse. He did not react. He did not even blink.

"Here you go, Toshio-chan~" she purred.

He accepted the cup with steady hands, not even blinking.

"Did his eyes look down there at the end?" It was quick enough that I almost doubted it happened.

He took a sip. Eyes closed. Then opened.

"It's excellent," he said. "Thank you. Very smooth with complex flavors."

Akeno straightened up like she'd just been hit by lightning. As a consequence, her breasts dragged slightly across Toshio's face. The contact was fleeting but obvious. I felt my eyebrow twitch. He didn't even acknowledge the physics of the movement.

"Ara ara… you really think so?" she asked, breath catching, her voice just a little higher than normal, her hand gently placed on her blushing cheek.

I rolled my eyes.

I arched a brow. Koneko, for her part, watched with narrowed eyes, as if to determine if Toshio seemed worthy to be called a 'hentai'. Kiba stifled a laugh with the back of his hand. Even he wasn't immune to the awkwardness.

Akeno composed herself, then pirouetted to the center of the room, arms out, presenting the tray as if Toshio's stoic response was all part of her plan. She poured for Kiba, then for herself, her motions now a touch sharper, the performance less for seduction and more for dignity. She took her place just behind and to the side of me, squeezing her legs together with a little more force than necessary.

"Enjoy, everyone," she said, but her gaze returned, searching, to Toshio, as if trying to decode whatever language he spoke.

I gave her a dry look. She turned her head to me, gave a small giggle and barely shrugged her shoulders like she was the most innocent person in the world. I returned my gaze to Toshio.

I folded my hands in front of me, taking a breath.

Despite everything, despite my own plans and the tidy script I'd written for this moment, there was a small, stubborn fear at the base of my spine that nothing would go as intended, that he'd react poorly. Why else would my palms sweat, despite the air conditioning pumping at full blast?

I met Toshio's eyes—clear, steady, utterly devoid of the usual adolescent posturing and leering I'd come to expect from human boys (or devil for that matter). Beneath his stillness there was a fundamental otherness. Not the supernatural kind of otherness, but something more fundamental, more human. Time to do this.

"Toshio," I said, and I was pleased my voice came out clear and without the waver I felt inside, "you know we're not normal. And I know you're not, either." There. Out in the open.

Every syllable a small rebellion against the decades of secrecy that our kind had built like a fortress around our world. The rest of my peerage looked on, their postures betraying varying degrees of anticipation and curiosity: Kiba, with his polite half-smile and dull eyes (I hoped those would become livelier in the future); Koneko, with her deadpan stare, fingers poised on a cube of mochi; and Akeno, leaning forward slightly with a fake smile.

She seemed just as nervous as I did. The fact we both felt it was somewhat ridiculous, this was Toshio we were talking to. Logic dictated we had nothing to be anxious about, but yet the heart…

Toshio's face, as always, was unreadable. He blinked once, slow and unhurried, as if digesting a line from a poem rather than a confessional.

"We're devils," I said plainly. No evasion. No euphemism.

"I know," he replied almost immediately.

I had no prepared script for this. None of the elaborate emotional arcs I'd imagined for this unveiling accounted for the possibility that he would simply accept it. Not question, not recoil in fear, not even pretend to be surprised. Just: I know. I blinked, and for a split second, I lost the thread of the conversation.

"You what? Since when?"

"I've known since the beginning."

Even Akeno, ever unflappable, had a minor look of shock on her face.

Koneko looked up mid-bite.

"How?" I asked. I could hear the slight edge in my own voice. He shrugged, a casual gesture that looked out of place on him.

"Aura signature. Magic in the air. Behavioral patterns. You weren't subtle."

I stared at him. For a moment the room was silent, save for the faint ticking of the clubroom clock.

…Well. Damn.

"Why didn't you say anything?" He shrugged.

He considered this, and for the first time I caught a glimpse of something like amusement in his eyes.

"Why would it have mattered?"

I stared, my eyes widening a bit. Why would it have mattered? In so many ways, it was the least human answer he could have given, and yet, the most honest.

No fear. No awe. Not even curiosity. Just cold logic, wrapped in neutrality. But maybe something more…

I looked at Kiba, expecting a smirk, but he was as stunned as I was. Even Koneko, usually so indifferent to the social theater of devils, seemed to perk up. I turned back to Toshio, a dozen questions flitting behind my eyes. I tried to file them by priority, but they all jammed together at the narrow door of my composure.

"So then what are you?" I asked, unable to keep the urgency from my voice.

"Human," he replied. It was such a simple answer, and yet, as soon as he said it, I realized how deeply I doubted it.

"Are you from a magical bloodline? Do you have a Sacred Gear?"

"No," he said again.

I frowned. "Then what is your power?"

"Spiritual energy."

"Like senjutsu?" I asked. In my left periphery, I saw Koneko's grip tighten on her snack. The temperature in the room seemed to drop by two degrees, and it wasn't just the air conditioning. Toshio shook his head and responded quickly.

"No. It's not nature-based. It comes from the soul. The self."

Even Kiba furrowed his brows at that.

What did that even mean? The more he explained, the less I understood.

It wasn't a regular power, not one codified in the underpinnings of the supernatural world like demonic magic or divine blessings. It was… what, then? A human anomaly, perhaps. A system not yet mapped or even recognized by the great cartographers of the supernatural world. I felt the urge to dig deeper, so I pressed on.

"Have you always had it?"

"Yes."

"Did your parents—"

"No."

I began to ask a series of other questions before Akeno coughed slightly into her delicate hand, interrupting me.

"Buchou," she said, "are we interrogating him now?" She apparently thought my line of questioning was rather intense. I couldn't help but agree.

I sighed, rubbing my temple.

"Right. Toshio, you don't have to answer anything else."

He nodded, but I could see the beginnings of something almost like a smile at the corners of his mouth. He was not offended; if anything, he seemed to find the situation mildly amusing (if I had not known him, I would have assumed he hadn't reacted at all). I tilted my head, unable to let it go.

"Why were you so forthcoming?"

He looked at me, and for the first time since I'd met him, I saw something faint in his eyes. Something warm.

"Because I trust you," he said. "You're my friend."

My breath caught.

Friend.

There was a heaviness in my chest, something halfway between relief and a kind of sadness. I hadn't expected that. Not from him. Not from someone who kept people at such arm's length. And yet, it didn't sound rehearsed. It didn't sound like a platitude. 

It was just… a fact. I looked away for a second, composing myself. I'd never been so glad for the hair that shielded the side of my face. The concept of friendship (and possibly more) from him, seemed like a priceless treasure that not many even got to see, let alone have.

I gave it a moment, then shifted back into my role as president.

"Do you know about the peerage system?" I asked, forcing my tone back to official business.

He nodded.

"I need to remember to ask him how he knows about devils later."

"Then allow me to formally introduce mine. Akeno is my Queen. Kiba, my Knight. Koneko, my Rook."

He gave each of them a brief glance, a kind of silent acknowledgment, as if he were memorizing the pieces on a chess board. I hesitated. My tongue felt thick in my mouth.

"Would you consider joining us?"

He looked thoughtful. Not dismissive. But he didn't hesitate either.

"No." I blinked.

"Oh. May I ask why?" I had to actively repress the deep shade of disappointment that threatened to boil out of me.

"I want to see what I can accomplish on my own. As a human. If that doesn't work out… maybe I'll reconsider."

It was logical. Detached. A little painful.

But I respected it. It was strange, how a single "no" could feel, especially toward someone that wasn't used to being told no..

"Alright," I said softly. "Let me know if you change your mind. And can I ask a favor?"

The question was out before I could stop it, and even as I said it, I felt the subtle shift in the room: Akeno's eyes flicked to me, Kiba angled his head, and Koneko, for once, seemed to have lost interest in her mochi. Toshio, impassive as ever, nodded his assent. I couldn't help but think of a certain violet-eyed rival.

"If someone else were to ask you to become a devil—" I tried to keep my voice as even as possible, "—no matter the rewards of doing so, would you keep me in mind?"

"And my peerage?" I added it as a quick afterthought.

I tried to sound casual, as if the request wasn't loaded with every piece of pride and insecurity I'd ever carried. But I couldn't help the way my voice caught ever so slightly at the end.

He simply looked at me, that damn neutral expression. Then a serious, determined gleam entered his eyes.

"If I decided to become any race other than human, you're the only person I'd ever go to."

The words were so direct, so undiluted, I physically recoiled, as if I'd been handed a burning brand. The blush that flooded my cheeks was instantaneous. I raised a hand to my face, pretending to adjust my hair, but my heart was pounding loud enough to drown out even Akeno's sharp inhale.

"Yes, well, ah—thank you," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. I felt unbalanced, as though I were standing at the edge of a high drop, with nothing but Toshio's flat, honest stare to break my fall. There was something quietly destabilizing about being told, so plainly, that you were someone's first and only choice.

"That means a lot to me," I managed, and this time, it came out clearer, the words solidifying as they left my mouth.

Another silence, but this time it was charged with something new. Something that felt like possibility, or maybe just the absence of fear.

"So," I said, shifting gears, "do you have any questions for me? For any of us?" It was the logical next step, the one that would return us to safer territory, but Toshio did not respond immediately. Instead, he looked up at the ceiling, as if searching for an answer drifting somewhere in the air.

Then: "What are your plans for summer break?"

My brain short-circuited.

Of all the possible questions—our powers, our weaknesses, our secrets, our enemies—he wanted to know our summer plans. For a moment, I forgot how to even process the question.

"That's your question?" The incredulity in my voice was unmistakable, and I could hear Kiba's stifled laugh behind me.

"Yes."

He was perfectly serious. I glanced at Akeno, who looked as bewildered as I felt, then at Koneko, who had resumed eating, as if this was just another glitch in the simulation and she was resigned to accepting it.

I cleared my throat. "We'll be going to the Underworld," I answered, trying to sound as though this wasn't the first time I'd been asked such a question. "Visiting my family, doing some… training." I hesitated, wondering if I should elaborate, but Toshio just nodded, as if that made perfect sense.

There was a brief lull in the conversation, the kind of silence that's less an absence and more a presence, heavy and expectant.

Then Toshio's head tipped downward, his voice lowering just enough to draw all attention to it. "So I won't get to see either of you until break ends," he said, and his eyes shifted from me to Akeno, then back again, the weight of the statement sinking in like a stone dropped into deep water.

My chest tightened.

I felt it then, the sudden and unmistakable pang of loss, not for something I'd had, but something I'd only just realized I wanted.

"No," I said, and the word caught in my throat, "you won't." For a fraction of a second, I wanted to take it back—to say I'd take him with us, to offer him some kind of place in my world—but I knew it was better this way. For both of us. At least for now. I wouldn't be able to explain to the other devils about bringing a human to Hell for a casual visit.

He stared down at his hands, fingers folded in precise symmetry, and his eyes flicked up with a clarity that was almost painful in its directness.

"I'll miss you both."

There was no drama to it. No hesitation, no ironic twist. He just said it, like it was the simplest fact in the world.

My breath hitched, and I could feel my face heating up-burning, really.

Akeno, who had spent years perfecting the art of a shrine maiden's stoicism, actually flinched. Her hand tightened around the edge of the tea tray, her mouth opening to say something, her other hand covering it when no words came. There was a faint pinkness blooming across her cheekbones, and I realized with a start that she looked almost vulnerable. That was rare.

My knees felt suddenly unreliable.

He meant it.

There was something about hearing it said aloud, in that unadorned way, that made it a hundred times more real than any flirtatious quip or calculated move. In that moment, I realized just how much Toshio had come to matter, not just to me, but to all of us.

The room, which had been brimming with the unique tensions of the situation, now felt oddly unified, as if we were all feeling the same thing, uncertain how to name it.

He turned to Kiba.

"I'll miss my sparring partner, too."

Kiba smiled, soft and genuine. "Same," he replied, and for the first time since I'd known him, I sensed there was nothing performative in the exchange.

Toshio stood, his movement calm and deliberate.

"I'll be waiting to see you all when you get back then." He lingered for the briefest second, as if searching for something else to say, or maybe just memorizing the faces in front of him. There was a sadness in his posture, an almost imperceptible slump of the shoulders, that made me want to reach out and grab his hand.

He turned and stepped toward the door.

He paused, his hand hovering over the handle, the way a diver hesitates at the edge of the board before leaping. I could see the tension in his wrist, the slight tremor that betrayed what he would never say aloud.

"Toshio?" I called out, softer than I'd intended. "Is something wrong?"

He never hesitated.

But now he did.

For a second, I thought he might just walk out and never look back. But then, with the kind of quiet resolve only he had, he turned around, crossing the space between in a moment.

He stopped in front of me and Akeno, his head bowed a little, as if he was unsure of how to look either of us in the eyes. His voice, when it came, was so small I almost didn't hear it.

"Can… can I hug you both before I go?"

He stammered.

"To tide me over. I've become used to our interactions. And I think I'm going to miss them."

No embarrassment. No shame. Just quiet honesty.

I smiled.

"Of course you can," I replied softly. The words came easy, like breathing.

I stood, and before I could wait a moment longer, I wrapped my arms around him, left hand curling behind his neck, right hand finding the small of his back. He hesitated at first—not out of reluctance, but surprise—then returned the gesture, arms enveloping me with a warmth I hadn't realized I craved. He was solid, steady, and the heartbeat I felt through his chest was fast, as if he was just as nervous as I was. We stayed like that longer than we probably intended.

"Satans, why does this feel so nice?" I couldn't help but think.

I didn't want to let go, but Akeno cleared her throat, and I could feel her radiating impatience like a space heater on high. "Riaaas~" she whined, drawing out the last syllable, "when's it going to be my turnnn?"

I pulled away, a little reluctantly, and Akeno immediately stepped in, pressing herself flush against Toshio with a theatrical sigh of contentment. Her boobs threatened to spill around his sides. If he was startled by the full-body contact, he didn't show it, but his face did go a shade or two pinker.

"Mmm~ Your muscles feel better than I imagined," she said, reaching down and giving his butt an approving squeeze.

My eyebrow gave a violent twitch, the kind that would have sent a lesser demon scurrying.

"Akeno, that's enough," I said, but my voice lacked the usual bite, softened as it was by the smile threatening to break through my own forced composure. I barely recognized the sound of my own laughter trembling on the edge of each word.

She gave an exaggerated, cartoonishly sulky huff and released Toshio, stepping back with a swish of her hair and an arched brow aimed directly at me. I was pleased to note Toshio and I hugged longer.

"You're just jealous," she said, half-pout, half-smirk, wholly Akeno. She made it sound like a taunt, but the quaver in her voice was so subtle I wondered if anyone else would notice. The air was thick with a strange new energy—as if we'd all agreed to meet on this unfamiliar emotional terrain and now had no idea which way was north.

We both looked to Toshio. He was still standing in the same spot, arms at his sides, hands loosely curled into uncertain fists, as if the memory of touch lingered in his muscles. And he was smiling, really smiling, wider and brighter than I'd ever seen.

His eyes stared ahead, through us, like he was seeing something distant. Something long lost. A memory of warmth.

He bowed his head, and for a moment I thought he might say something profound—some parting benediction or philosophical flourish. But when he spoke, it was just two words, small and simple: "Thank you."

One moment, there; the next, nothing but a faint air current and the sound of the entry door swinging gently on its hinges. Not even the most refined demonic sense could catch the actual transition. No magic, no teleportation circle, no electron-flash or spatial ripple.

The silence that followed was seismic.

Kiba's jaw actually dropped for a heartbeat before he snapped it closed. His eyes, usually filtered through the lens of practiced chivalry, flickered with undisguised awe.

"Did… did anyone else see that?" he managed, voice pitched somewhere between admiration and outright panic.

"Does he do that a lot?" Koneko asked, voice flat. "The speed thing? Seems awfully familiar."

I let out a short, incredulous laugh. "No. But I suspect he'll be doing it more now that he doesn't have to hide."

Akeno, determined to maintain her theatrical momentum, thrust her hands onto her hips. "Why did you get to hug him first?" she demanded, but the usual teasing lilt was tempered by something I couldn't quite name—envy, maybe, or a sense of having just lost at a game whose rules she'd only now realized. I felt the corners of my own mouth lift in involuntary amusement. I got this first this time.

My eye twitched again, this time in mock outrage. "Akeno. Who is the King of this peerage?"

Akeno's lips pressed into a dramatic line, her gaze sliding away as if she was about to mutiny on the spot but lacked the numbers.

"That's what I thought," I said, and the quiet satisfaction in my voice was impossible to miss.

Koneko set her empty cup down, eyes fixed on the spot where Toshio had vanished. "He's lonely," she said knowingly, not unkindly. "But less than before."

The words startled me with their precision. For all Koneko's stoicism, she was often the most perceptive among us. She saw the shape of things, even when the rest of us were blinded by our own pride or politics or pain.

Akeno nodded, her expression softening. "Maybe that's all anyone really needs." Koneko gave a small nod.

There was a hush, the kind that settles in the wake of something irreversible. I looked at the faces around me—my peerage, my friends, my family. I wondered, not for the first time, what it would mean to let someone new all the way in that wasn't on the verge of death or collapse and be reborn as a devil, but instead chose to walk into our lives anyway?

After all, if a human boy could walk into a den of devils and make it feel like home, maybe anything was possible.