DxD: Fusion

Day 240 - Last Day of School

Toshio Perspective

There was a particular electric quality to the air that morning, the kind you could taste if you opened your mouth and let the ambient mana fizz on your tongue. I could always feel the build of a teleportation spell. Rias's magic was so familiar now that it was practically an extension of my own skin, a subtle warmth before the inevitable pop of arrival.

The Gremory magic circle painted itself in the typical red patterns across the waxed wood of my entryway, flickering for a heartbeat before she stepped through—her long crimson hair cascaded down her shoulders like a silk curtain set ablaze, blue blazer catching the light, her skirt and legs backlit by the sigil's last flare. Her skirt always flipped up a bit from the air displacement, always letting me catch a glimpse of what lie underneath. Black today.

She smiled when she saw me looking at her. "Good morning.

"You know you could just knock."

"And let someone else see me outside your door teleporting? Please." She stepped forward and laced her fingers through mine. "This is more elegant."

We stepped out the door together, hand in hand. By now it felt... normal. Ever since that morning she'd just appeared without warning and declared she was walking me to school from now on, we hadn't missed a day. Sometimes Akeno joined, which clearly tested Rias' patience. I could tell by the way her smile stiffened every time Akeno looped an arm through mine. Not that I minded. Especially when both of them pressed in close burying either arm in between their clothes chests. I had said the uniforms for this school were ridiculous before. But now I think I can say I outright think they're great.

This morning, though, it was just Rias.

We walked in a comfortable rhythm, the early winter coolness brushing against us with the kind of stillness that promised a slightly cold afternoon. Kuoh's streets were already dotted with students, some dragging their feet, others bounding with energy. Last day of the semester. I had no doubt the hallways were going to be chaos by noon.

"Is it just you today, or is Akeno planning another ambush?" I asked. Not that I minded Akeno's company—far from it—but the last time she'd joined, Rias had nearly scorched a tree with a glare.

"No I wanted it to just be us this morning, since it's the last day before break." She squeezed my hand, which I returned.

"So," Rias began, her voice light, but her fingers tightening slightly around mine, "how's your magic training going?"

I smirked. "Dangerously well. I only set the kitchen ceiling on fire once."

She rolled her eyes. "That was one time the day you started. I mean recently."

"Honestly? Great. Thanks again for the grimoire, by the way. I didn't say it enough."

"You said it twice and kissed my cheek. That was plenty."

"It was deserved."

She smiled, genuinely pleased. "What have you learned so far?"

I started counting on my fingers. "Create Flame, Create Water, Create Sparks, Create Ice, Create Wind, Create Earth, Create Light, Create Frost, Create minor illusion, and Mana Circulation. The first nine are basic creation spells. Mana Circulation's the only odd one out, but I suppose it's the most basic way to learn how to do the rest."

Her eyebrows rose, impressed. "Ten already? Without chanting?"

I nodded. "Yeah. The creation spells come naturally, probably because of how formulaic they are. Mana Circulation is interesting because it doesn't require a magic circle. ."

"Akeno's going to be impressed when she hears that," she said, half-laughing.

"I'm glad. I want her to see that I'm not just swinging a sword anymore."

A breeze stirred her hair, sending strands dancing around her face. She turned toward me, eyes soft. "You really are something, you know that?"

I didn't respond, simply shrugging my shoulders

We crossed the street, and the conversation drifted into silence for a bit. Kuoh Academy loomed ahead, its clock tower visible even from five blocks out.

"Have you decided what you're doing for summer break?" I asked. I already knew the answer, but I liked hearing her talk about it.

Her expression sobered, shifting from warmth to focus. "Training. We all are. I want to improve my control over the Power of Destruction, especially precision work. Akeno's trying to increase her stamina and output for barrier spells and elemental magic. Kiba is continuing his sword tutelage under Okita. Koneko's working on increasing her strength and speed. "

"That all?"

"Not quite. I'll be having us focus on team development too. We're starting to experiment with formations and strategies for rating games. Tactical cohesion. Roles. Execution."

"Sounds intense."

"It has to be. I want my peerage to be the rating game champions one day."

I slowed a bit, looking over at her. She wasn't boasting. Her tone was calm. Focused. This wasn't a child's dream, or an inherited ambition. It was hers.

"Then I'm rooting for you," I said. "I think you'll make it."

She blinked at me, then looked away, blushing. "Thanks. It's nice to hear someone outside my peerage have faith in me when it comes to that goal."

"Well of course I do. You have amazing potential, as do the rest of your peerage members." Rias smiled warmly at that.

"But I do have a question, what do you do if you're down a piece, like if your peerage isn't full yet?" I think I knew the answer, but she didn't know that.

"Well, typically, you can use a guest piece to fill the roll. Provided you're popular enough for another peerage to be willing to loan you one of their pieces. Usually the fill-ins only fight with you for a game or two though. They typically have to be approved beforehand, usually by both the game overseer and opponent's king."

I made a show of pondering this, tapping my chin with my free hand.

"Think I could ever join your team as a human?"

She hesitated, and for the first time all morning, she looked genuinely conflicted. "No, probably not," she admitted, her voice soft. "Not as things are. Rating Games are between devil peerages only. But..." She trailed off, chewing her lip.

"But?" I pressed.

She lifted her head, meeting my gaze squarely. "But I could ask my brother if there's a way. Maybe something unconventional."

"Unconventional's kind of my thing."

She smiled at that, a private little curve of her lips. Then, as if she wanted to test the words before she said them, she paused at the next corner, tugging me to a stop with her.

"You'd make a great Knight," she said quietly. "Fastest I've seen."

"Fastest you're dating," I shot back, half-joking, half-not.

She blinked, stunned. Her grip on my hand tightened, and for a moment, she just stared at me, eyes wide and searching.

"Dating? Is that... is that what we're doing?"

I raised our joined hands slightly and gave her a sideways look. "Oh. Is that not what we're doing?"

Her face flushed a spectacular shade of red, like all the blood in her body had decided to stage a coup in her cheeks. She turned away quickly, but not before I caught the unmistakable curl of a smile tugging at her lips. She opened her mouth, closed it, then took a steadying breath.

"...Maybe we are," she said finally, her voice so soft I almost missed it. "I wouldn't mind if we were."

I tilted my head toward her, letting the moment stretch. "Then maybe we should make that official."

She looked back at me, her blush deepening. "You're serious."

"Dead serious," I said, lifting our joined hands slightly. "I mean, we've been doing everything else but saying it." Well, not everything.

Her lips parted in a slow smile, uncertain but hopeful. "Then yes. We are."

She let out a breath that was half laugh, half flustered sigh, and for a moment she just stared at me. Then, in a move that surprised us both, she leaned in and kissed me—quick, feather-light, but electric as static. She pulled back instantly, face blazing, hand still tight in mine.

Oh that is so happening again. Though, was she always this bashful?

We continued walking to school in a semi-daze. When I glanced at her, she had a radiant smile on her face that made my heart jump, which was a novel feeling.

As we walked, I thought back, she could hardly be called bashful with Issei. Though, I am pretty different than him. She was often in control of him and their budding relationship by the end of season 2. And not only is she younger now, but our relationship didn't start from a place of control or possessiveness. For all intents and purposes, she owned Issei as a servant, so she had no reason to feel bashful toward him. Me though…

"Speaking of your brother, though," I said as we came up to the school entrance, "any update on Ghom?"

Her expression turned grim. "He's coming to the ORC after school. Once he takes care of Ghom, we're all heading to the Underworld together."

I nodded. "Think I could talk to him before he does?"

She seemed surprised. "I don't see why not. I can let him know."

Kuoh Academy's gates were already a riot of noise and color. Students milled about in clumps, uniforms half-untucked and ties already loosened in anticipation of the break. The clock tower loomed above it all, casting a long shadow across the entry lawn.

Standing just to the left of the main gate was Sona Sitri, flanked by her silent shadow, Tsubaki. Sona was watching us with the kind of intensity usually reserved for chessboards or blood feuds. No—she was watching our hands.

I made it a point to lace my fingers tighter between Rias'.

"Amano-san," Sona said as we passed.

"Sitri-san."

"Please visit the Student Council room after classes today. I have something I'd like to discuss."

"What about?"

She let a faint, razor-thin smile cross her lips. "Over a game of chess."

I paused, then nodded. "Alright. See you after school."

As we slipped by, I could feel Rias' grin radiating beside me, as if she was basking in the afterglow of some private joke.

"She's going to try and recruit you," she murmured once we were inside the building.

"I know," I replied.

"Oh?"

"And you have nothing to worry about," I said, glancing at her with a grin.

Just then, we entered the front doors next to the shoe lockers. A few steps in, I pull her hand behind me slightly, leaned in and kissed her cheek. Firm and with purpose.

She froze.

Around us, the room erupted. Gasps. Whispers. A shriek of giddy disbelief. One girl actually dropped her bag. Another started texting so fast her fingers blurred.

Rias blinked, then turned slowly toward me, her cheek pink and her eyes blazing.

"You… You really just did that."

"Seemed appropriate."

She reached up and touched her cheek where I'd kissed her, still flushed. "That was bold."

"You liked it," I said.

Her lips curved, soft and private. "Maybe I did."

She giggled, then bit her lip, and I couldn't help but smile back.

XXX

Sona Perspective

Sona Sitri despised being surprised, but what she despised even more was not being the one in control.

So when Toshio Amano strolled into the Student Council room without so much as a hesitation, posture loose and eyes impossibly hard to read, the faintest quiver of irritation curled at the base of her spine. He hadn't even knocked. Who did that? No, more importantly, who did that to her? And why did it feel, for just a split second, like she was the one on the defensive?

Sona fixed her expression to stone. "Amano," she said crisply, raising a hand to indicate the seat directly across from hers. "Thank you for coming." The chessboard was already set, each piece in its mathematically optimal starting position. She'd checked twice before his arrival. Once for accuracy, and once for effect.

He glanced at the setup—just once, with a hint of a smile in his eyes that implied he'd already mapped the room before opening the door. He surveyed her council: Tsubaki, tall and silent behind her left shoulder, unreadable as always; Momo, Reya, and Tomoe arrayed along the far wall, pretending at paperwork but all three failing to mask their curiosity.

Amano's voice was even and light: "Of course. Though I should warn you—I'm not bad at this."

"That's for me to determine," Sona said, and motioned to the board with brisk finality. "Shall we?"

He sat. No signs of nerves. No little tells, not even a glance at the assembled audience. Just a half-smirk as he reached for the black pieces. He knew the game, then; so be it.

She moved first, obviously. A queen's pawn opening—solid, controlled, flexible. "You've had quite the year," Sona remarked, advancing her pawn with the tip of one manicured finger. "Top marks in every class. Perfect attendance. Captain of the kendo club, by sheer ability rather than popularity. And still you manage to avoid being pinned down by anyone, or anything, that isn't on your terms." The implication hung, sharp and surgical.

Amano responded with a knight, deploying it with the offhand confidence of a barista taking a regular's order. "Maybe I just don't like being told what to do."

Her brow twitched. "And then there's your relationship with Rias." She didn't let the question hang; she volleyed it straight at him, like a bishop snapping along a diagonal.

He didn't flinch. "That sounds vaguely accusatory," he said, castling his king. Aggressive, but safe.

"Observational," Sona corrected, sliding another pawn forward and pressing her glasses up her nose. "You hold hands. You walk her to school. You kissed her—on the cheek, in the shoe locker hall. I would be negligent not to notice."

Amano leaned back, smiling with the impeccable restraint of someone who actually found her scrutiny entertaining. "If it helps, she kissed me first."

"It doesn't," Sona said, before she could stop herself, and she caught Momo's lips twitching as if she was about to burst out laughing.

Sona inhaled. She did not rise to bait. She did not lose her composure over inconsequential banter, not even when her own peerage was clearly enjoying the spectacle at her expense.

She advanced her bishop, a little harder than intended, the piece clacking against the board's varnished wood with a faintly desperate energy. Across from her, Amano never broke rhythm. The game played out with surgical precision: his moves lean, almost predatory. She recognized the style instantly—reactive, but only at first. Every piece he moved was calculated to prod her strategy, to guide her into positions she didn't want to be in. He was baiting her, and yet somehow not disrespecting the game itself. Was that… paradoxically flattering?

The board narrowed. Her queen threatened his king directly, but Amano's answer was a knight sacrifice that collapsed her left flank. Tsubaki, looming at her shoulder, actually leaned in, eyes sharpening.

The oddest thing occurred, then: Sona felt her pulse racing. She was enjoying the challenge. Even as she repressed the urge to scowl when Amano parried her best advance with a move so subtle she thought it was a mistake, she found herself thinking three, sometimes four moves ahead. And yet he kept pace. It was infuriating. It was almost exhilarating.

Until, just as she thought she saw a path to victory, Amano blundered.

It wasn't a miscalculation; she saw the micro-expression, the deliberate way he moved his rook out of line, leaving a gaping weakness in his defense. It was a gift.

Sona capitalized instantly, pressing the attack, and four turns later, she had him in checkmate. The room fell silent.

She stared at the board, refusing to look up. Her heart thudded. She'd won. But the victory tasted wrong.

She finally glanced at Amano. He didn't look remotely upset. If anything, he looked—she searched for the word—amused.

"You let me win," she accused, voice a bare whisper.

He shrugged, gathering his bag in the same blasé way he'd sat down. "Winning seemed important to you."

Her body went rigid. It was all she could do to remain seated. "That's not how chess works! You don't just—gift games like that!"

Amano's smile was infuriatingly gentle. "Sure you do. It's called being polite."

Her eye twitched. "I am not some delicate little girl you have to tiptoe around!"

He rose, slinging his bag over one shoulder and fixing her with a look that was all the more aggravating for its sincerity. "No. You're Sona Sitri. Which is why I figured letting you win would irritate you even more."

There was laughter, barely contained, on both sides of the table. Reya actually wheezed. Momo's hand shot to her mouth, and Tomoe's shoulders shook with the effort of holding it in. Even Tsubaki, outwardly stoic, betrayed a single raised eyebrow.

Sona felt her cheeks flush an atomic shade of red. She would have paid every credit in her Underworld trust fund if it meant erasing the last sixty seconds. No one—not even her own peerage—could know that she'd just been saved from a world of humiliating complications by the mercy of a smug upstart with no respect for tradition.

He was still needling her, even as he walked away. It was performance, yes, but it was also a challenge. She wasn't about to let him walk off with the last word.

"You're aggravating," Sona hissed, folding her arms tightly and staring at the exact square where her strategy had dissolved. "You could have won. Easily. Why didn't you?"

He paused at the door, half-turned. His smile was maddening. "I told you. You seemed like you needed the win."

"I didn't need it," she snapped. "I earned it. Or at least I was supposed to."

Amano's gaze was steady. "Maybe I wanted to see what you'd do if you thought you won."

"Manipulative," she muttered.

"Strategic," he countered, the glint never leaving his eyes. "Isn't that your whole thing?"

She gritted her teeth. "You're worse than Rias. And she's had years of practice."

He didn't even blink. "She has other talents."

Momo actually started coughing, the sound muffled but unmistakable. Tsubaki's lips compressed, and Reya gave up entirely, clutching her sides as suppressed giggles leaked out.

Sona felt the pressure rising in her skull. If she didn't bring the conversation to heel, she'd lose control completely. She drew herself up, determined to reassert command, and let her words fly with the force of an executive order. "Then let's make this simpler." She glared at him, all chessboard pretense gone. "Join my peerage. As my Knight. You're fast, skilled, and sufficiently irritating to be useful. I promise you, there are worse jobs."

He had already started to walk away, but her words stopped him. For a moment he looked almost thoughtful. Then, with infuriating slowness, he actually grinned.

"Tempting," he said, voice as dry as the summer wind outside. "Really. But being human has its perks. I get to keep my soul, pay my taxes, and sleep in on Sundays without an ancestral blood contract hanging over my head. Devilry sounds exhausting."

And if I ever did consider selling what's left of my humanity, well... let's just say I've already got my eye on a different recruitment office. One that serves better tea and doesn't glare quite so much."

Reya snorted. Momo pressed her knuckles to her lips, shoulders trembling.

He gave a small bow, not mocking, just maddeningly sincere. "Thanks for the game, Sitri. Really."

Then he left, the click of the door somehow both final and infuriatingly ambiguous.

Sona stared at the empty door for a long, glacial moment, the afterimages of the chessboard still flickering behind her eyes. She wanted to be angry, and she was, but there was a second, more insidious emotion threading through her—curiosity. Something about how Amano had played, how he had lost—no, gifted—the match, rattled her in a way she hated but couldn't ignore. She flexed one hand under the table, nails digging lightly into her palm until sensation returned.

Tsubaki, ever the perfect second, leaned in by a precise degree. "That could have gone better," she murmured in a tone that hovered between comfort and respectful critique.

"Thank you, Tsubaki," Sona said, voice tight. "I hadn't noticed."

"He's difficult," Tsubaki offered carefully, her tone neutral as always. "But... he's not mocking you. Not truly."

Sona tilted her head fractionally, as if considering this. She wanted to disagree, but the memory of Amano's unbroken focus flickered through her again, and she had to admit—if only to herself—that Tsubaki was probably correct. "No," Sona said finally, exhaling as the tension began to bleed from her shoulders. "He's just infuriatingly unpredictable."

Tomoe stepped forward, still trying not to smile. "Well... he stayed until the end. That has to count for something."

Sona turned her gaze to the chessboard, letting her eyes slide over the frozen tableau of her own victory. She could replay every move in her head—had, in fact, already begun to, reflexively. "He nearly won," she said, voice low and flat. "He would have. That was a conscious mercy."

"He wanted to see how far you'd go," Reya volunteered, her tone a mixture of awe and shrewdness. "He wasn't just playing the game. He was playing you."

"Reya." Sona's voice was sharp, but not unkind. She appreciated the analysis, even if it stung. Especially because it stung.

Reya shrugged, entirely unrepentant. "He's cute, but he's trouble. I like it."

A ripple of snickers swept through the room. Sona considered assigning everyone double paperwork. She might still, depending on how the rest of the afternoon unfolded.

Tsubaki cleared her throat, gaze flicking from Sona to the scattered chess pieces. "You could always challenge him again, Kaichou. Perhaps next time, you'll win without assistance."

Sona's eyes narrowed to slits. "Not unless you want the school rumor mill to register us for a bridal registry," she muttered. A beat of silence, and then Momo's giggling became outright laughter. Even Tsubaki's mouth quirked at the corners, though she tried—and failed—to stifle it behind a cough.

Sona folded her arms and stared at the door Amano had exited through, as if she could summon him back with sheer force of will. "There's no point in chasing him. Not now. He's already aligned himself too deeply with Rias. Any effort I make now would only reinforce her position. And that, as we are all painfully aware, is intolerable."

"We'll keep him under surveillance. I won't lose him to Rias—not without a proper contest."

"Should we… prepare a dossier?" Tsubaki asked, only half-joking.

"Yes," Sona answered, entirely serious. "I want a pattern of his movements, habits, lunch preferences. If Gremory is going to keep him close, I want to know exactly how."

Tomoe whispered, "That's… kind of romantic, in a stalker-adjacent way."

Sona ignored her. "We'll keep our distance for now. But the next time he sits across from me, I'll be ready." She began gathering the chess pieces, dropping each into the lacquered box with meticulous care, the clink of wood on wood a steady metronome to her thoughts.

She had lost the battle, yes. But the war was far from decided.

Once the pieces were away, she straightened her uniform and made a note—mental, but it would be transcribed to her planner before the hour was out—to re-read every significant game Kasparov played after a humiliating public loss. If there was a lesson in humility, she would learn it faster and better than Amano ever could.

She turned on her heel and began gathering the chess pieces, placing them gently back into their lacquered box. "I'll wait. Eventually, a better opportunity will come. One I can control. One he won't see coming."

"And until then?" Momo asked.

"Until then," Sona said calmly, "we prepare. Thoroughly. He's too valuable to lose. And as long as he's not under the Gremory banner, he's fair game. I may even use one of Rias' tactics, and wait until he's at death's door. "