DxD: Fusion

Murayama Perspective

CRACK!

The shinai slammed against mine with enough force to rattle my wrists. I grunted, feet sliding half an inch across the dojo mat as I absorbed the impact. Toshio didn't slow down. His follow-up was immediate—a diagonal strike that I barely parried with a tight pivot and a bit more footwork than I wanted to admit.

"Tch… Damn it," I muttered under my breath.

He was relentless today. Not aggressive, exactly—just precise. Like every movement was already planned out in his head.

The first time I met Toshio Amano, a month ago, I'd honestly thought he was kind of handsome. Tall, a little intense-looking, but not in a weird way. He had this unreadable expression that made him feel older than he was. Stoic. Serious. Definitely not a goofball like most guys our age. And when he introduced himself, I mentally pegged him as another one-week wonder. The type that shows up, thinks swinging a shinai is cool, and disappears after a bruised ego or two.

That assumption lasted maybe five minutes.

CLACK!

I let out another soft grunt as I stepped into a defensive arc, redirecting his thrust just enough to deflect it. My arms were starting to burn.

He'd been a complete mess his first day. Stiff, awkward, obviously a beginner. And then something clicked mid-match. He got better right in front of my eyes, like freakishly better. I remembered stumbling through the last exchange of that first session, caught completely off guard.

A month later, I still didn't understand it.

His growth was insane. Every time we sparred, he moved sharper, faster, more fluidly. I trained four years to reach 3rd kyu. Toshio reached the same level in a month. That wasn't just dedication or natural talent. That was anime protagonist bullshit.

Kurogane-sensei never complimented anyone. Ever. Not unless they were winning nationals or something.

And yet, a week ago, after watching Toshio score a perfect 3-0 against a 2nd Kyu from another dojo, the old man had nodded and said:

"Your foundation is sound. If your will matches your technique, you might become something worth fearing."

That single sentence was more praise than I'd ever heard him give. Then he went and promoted the guy to 3rd Kyu. My rank!

CRACK!

Another hit deflected. My breath hitched. I was on the defensive again, and it wasn't going to last.

What was worse—I hadn't beaten him in our last two sessions. Not once. Katase either.

I gritted my teeth and adjusted my stance, trying to find an opening. Nothing. He didn't have any obvious tells. No overextensions. No lazy footwork. Just calm, calculated pressure. And always that focused look in his eyes, like he wasn't even tired.

And yet, outside of sparring, he was… normal. Kind of. He walked with me and Katase after every session, down to the intersection at Asahi Street. He made conversation, even said dumb things sometimes without realizing how they sounded.

Like what he said last week, "If every training session ends with walking home beside two girls like you both, I might start overtraining on purpose." in the most neutral, serious tone imaginable. Katase had nearly tripped, and I thought my brain short-circuited. He had no clue how it sounded. He was probably talking about the spars! Like how can a guy be so good, yet so bad with words at the same time?

I'd even tried poking at him a bit. Light teasing. A few flirty comments. Like when I asked, "So, Toshio, do you always train this hard, or are you just trying to impress me?" He blinked once and said, "Improving quickly benefits all my sparring partners."

Or the time I smirked and asked, "Toshio why is your handsome face so hard to hit?"—and he replied, dead serious, "I'll try to make sure my defense breaks right where you like it, then." It was smooth. Too smooth. I blinked, stunned for a full second, then turned my head before he could see my blush.

By the time I glanced back, he was already adjusting his shinai grip, completely unaware of how that had landed. He never responded the way a normal guy would. Not like he was rejecting me—more like he didn't even realize that's what I was doing. It was frustrating.

He wasn't shy, and he wasn't rude. He just had this emotional… distance. Like something important inside him had gone quiet. And he didn't understand how some of the things he said could be taken.

If he didn't consistently make the effort to spar with me and Katase, to walk with us, to be there—I would've thought he didn't even like us. That he was just being polite. But he kept showing up. Kept talking to us. Kept walking with us. Kept training.

And then there was Katase.

I wasn't stupid. I'd seen the way my friend looked at him when she thought no one was watching. Or how she always made sure her hair looked perfect before practice now. Or how she lingered just a little longer when Toshio spoke.

I even asked about it.

"You like him, don't you?" I said last week while we were cooling down after practice.

Katase flushed immediately. "W-What? No. I just think he's interesting. That's all."

I rolled my eyes. "You practically sparkle when he talks."

"Do not." She pouted.

"Do too."

But she wouldn't admit anything. Not yet, anyway.

CRACK!

Another strike. I blocked it out of pure instinct, but my grip slipped.

Before I could recover, his shinai tapped cleanly against my shoulder.

"Point."

Toshio lowered his stance and stepped back. That was the third hit. Match over. I hadn't scored once.

"Ugh, again?!" I groaned, yanking off my helmet and shaking out my ponytail. Sweat clung to my skin, and my arms felt like wet noodles.

Katase wandered over, already grinning. "Rough day?"

I shot her a glare. "Don't even. You couldn't do better."

She shrugged. "True. But at least I didn't just get shut out."

I tossed my towel at her. "Traitor."

Toshio gave a small, polite nod. "Thanks for the match."

He sounded completely neutral. Not smug. Not apologetic. Just… calm.

I wiped my forehead and narrowed my eyes slightly. "One of these days, I'm getting a hit on you. Just you wait."

He gave a small smile. "Looking forward to it."

Damn him. I really couldn't get a read on that guy.

As we packed up our gear, I tossed my towel into my bag and glanced over. "Hey, Toshio," I said casually, "Katase and I were thinking of grabbing dinner after this. It's Saturday, so…"

Katase chimed in, smiling. "We already cleared it with our moms. Want to come with?"

Toshio paused for a second, considering. Then he nodded. "Sure. You both smell as bad as I do, so as long as you don't mind going out in public like that, I don't either."

I froze, eyebrows twitching. "...Excuse me?"

Toshio blinked, confused. "What? Did I say something wrong?"

I groaned. "You have zero filter, I swear."

Katase giggled. "Come on, Murayama. You know he didn't mean anything by it."

I sighed. "I know, I know. He's just… blunt." I gave him a sidelong glance. "You're lucky you're clueless and cute."

He looked like he didn't know how to respond to that either, like he didn't know what cute meant. Gosh, that made the cuteness worse.

We walked together, chatting idly as we passed familiar streets. I pointed out a diner just a little past our usual intersection. "That place does good set meals. Healthy stuff too. Sound good?"

Toshio nodded. "Perfect. I had a light lunch earlier, so I could eat a lot."

We found a table near the window and placed our orders. The waitress tried to hide a grimace, likely from how we smelled. Damn Toshio and him being right.

Toshio and I both picked grilled fish with rice and miso soup, while Katase ordered karaage, fries, and a cream soda.

Toshio tilted his head. "If you keep eating like that, it'll ruin your really nice figure."

Katase immediately froze, then looked down with a scarlet blush. "W-What?!"

Toshio's eyes widened. "Wait—I meant it's unhealthy! Like, the food! That kind of diet isn't good for long-term conditioning."

I burst into laughter. "Oh my god, Toshio. You're hopeless."

He looked like he wanted to disappear into the booth, not in embarrassment, but frustration. He doesn't ever seem to get embarrassed, but I've noticed slight blushes every now and then. He probably doesn't even realize it.

The tension didn't last long. The three of us slipped into easy conversation—training stories, random classmates, dojo gossip. We laughed, joked, and teased each other, often at Toshio's expense. He took it in stride, mostly, even if his confusion sometimes made it worse.

By the time we left the diner, the streetlights had flickered on. We walked back together, splitting up at our usual intersection.

"See you both at the next kendo session. Dinner with your company was amazing."

Katase and I both sported a blush, both looked down and sighed in defeat.

"What? I normally eat alone…"

"Nothing, stud. We'll see you on Tuesday," I replied as I waved him bye. He shrugged and began walking back to his house.

I watched him go with a complicated look.

Still can't figure you out. But I think… I want to.

Then I turned and walked away with Katase.

"You like him too, huh." I swung my head to Katase. "I know you can probably tell that I do. Or I think I do. I can never hide anything from you for very long."

Katase sighed and looked up. "I don't know either."

I didn't know what to think or say. Should I comment on the fact that she just admitted her crush, or the fact that she was probably right? I sighed.

"I don't know, Katase. He's fun to be around, but we're only fourteen. Right now I would consider all of us friends, so let's start there?"

"You're right. I hope we go to the same high school."

"Yeah, me too. Hell, maybe we'll all be in the Kendo club together or something. He'd be the club captain for sure."

We both laughed.

I didn't know what the future would hold. But for now, this felt good.

XXX

Toshio Perspective: 1 month later

The wind threaded through the trees like whispers, stirring the canopy in soft waves overhead. A chorus of cicadas droned in the background, but out here, beyond the edge of town, everything felt quieter—emptier. I escaped out here often, mostly to avoid prying eyes. The fewer people watching, the fewer questions they'd ask. I liked it that way. Less noise. Less interference.

I stood in the clearing, shirt already discarded and sweat streaking down my torso. My chest rose and fell in controlled rhythm. Around me, the air was still. The faint scent of bark and old moss lingered.

This was the third time I'd come to this spot today.

I adjusted my stance, settled my weight into the balls of my feet, and concentrated.

Focus. Compress. Release.

I disappeared—almost.

No. Not disappeared. Just... jumped really damn fast.

My feet skidded across the forest floor as I stumbled out of my attempt, breath catching. Loose dirt scattered from the impact. I caught myself before I fell completely, planting a hand against a nearby tree.

"Still not Shunpo," I muttered.

It was frustrating. I understood the theory well enough—compress reiryoku, fire it through the legs like a detonation, push yourself beyond physical speed using spiritual pressure as fuel. But theory only got me so far. I was missing something. Some nuance. Some rhythm of movement or burst timing I hadn't quite grasped.

"Again." My voice barely disturbed the quiet.

I straightened, wiping sweat from my brow with the back of my arm. Reiryoku flared through my limbs again—slightly sticky, slightly uneven. Still, I'd gotten a skill out of all this effort.

{New Skill Acquired: Reiryoku Body Enhancement (Rank 2)}

It had popped up 24 days ago, after I finally figured out how to channel my spiritual energy into physical tissue. At first it just amplified my strength and speed in tiny bursts—barely noticeable. The first time I managed to push reiryoku into muscle and bone and tried an agility exercise, I'd been sore for days. Not from overexertion. From misalignment. From forcing power through tissue that wasn't used to spiritual reinforcement. Gamer's altered body only helped a little after I slept that night for the first time in over a week. But now, with practice, it granted significant boosts. For a few glorious seconds, my reflexes sharpened and my body felt lighter, faster, tighter.

But then it drained me. Hard.

I glanced at the status display floating next to me. My base reiryoku was still impressive, courtesy of Reiryoku Dominion and Cultivation, but my control was still relatively early in its evolution. Enhancement burned through reserves like a wildfire.

A full burst lasted maybe thirty seconds at most before I hit zero. And once that happened, my regeneration rate took over—20% per minute thanks to C-rank spiritual potential. That meant I'd recover everything in five minutes, but I didn't like waiting around.

So I made it productive.

When I emptied my reserves, I dropped to the ground and trained physically. Push-ups, sit-ups, body squats, stretches, isometric holds—anything to keep the time from being wasted. I usually extended it to 15 minutes though, because it's not easy to accomplish very much in only 5 minutes.

Then I tried again.

I was on my third rotation now. My muscles ached with a distant burn. My legs felt tight but strong. I could knew the way reiryoku needed to move through me, probably. It was just a matter of precision now.

I exhaled slowly.

Compress at the soles. Anchor the spiritual pressure in the calves. Snap upward through the hips and fire it all in one unified pulse through the legs—

I moved.

There was a blur. A whisper of acceleration, a flicker of motion, then pain. 

Then I hit a tree.

Hard.

The tree hit me before I even registered it.

My vision cracked. I bounced off the bark and tumbled backward through loose soil, landing on my back with a dull, full-body thud. Dizziness surged. Leaves twisted above me, sky peeking through in shattered fragments. Somewhere off to my left, a cicada resumed its drone, like it was mocking me.

"...Ow."

Reiryoku Body Enhancement had absorbed the worst of it. My ribs ached, but they hadn't snapped. My pride? Less intact. Still, I didn't move right away. I stayed flat, letting the ache settle and the impact fade. My breath came in through the nose, out through the mouth. A practiced rhythm.

The cicadas droned on, indifferent.

I sighed and pulled up my skills panel, watching the familiar list populate. I hadn't gained any new skills other than the one mentioned earlier. Everything I was doing now—every drop of energy and effort—was going toward core progression. Physique. Hoho. Zanjutsu. The foundations of my build. The things that didn't flash with every step forward but would become the difference between life and death when things got real.

{Base Skills

Perfect Memory (Rank X)

Gamer's Altered Mind (Rank X)

Gamer's Altered Body (Rank X)

Observe (Rank 4)

Allows you to gather basic information about a person, creature, or object you focus on. Displays name, condition, threat level, level (if within 20 levels of the user), and a brief descriptive insight. Threat levels are on the same letter scale as above, and are relative to your current power and abilities. Further information may unlock with repeated use or higher proficiency.}

Cooking (Rank 3)

The art of turning raw ingredients into nourishing meals.Increases nutritional value and efficiency of food preparation. Food taste and quality increase as rank increases.

Exercise (Rank 5)

Enhances training efficiency, physical development, and endurance during workouts. Minimizes wasted motion, maximizes stat conversion, and grants passive minor fatigue resistance. 

Basic Swordsmanship (Rank 7)

The fundamental skill of using a sword in combat. This includes proper grip, footwork, guard positions, and basic offensive and defensive techniques such as slashes, thrusts, and parries. It represents the user's general familiarity with bladed weapons and their ability to use them with control, balance, and purpose. Allows precise control over momentum, blade angle, and timing. Can counter other basic sword techniques easier. 

Reiryoku Body Enhancement (Rank 2)

A technique that channels refined spiritual energy directly into the user's physical structure, enhancing muscle fiber density, neural conductivity, bone density, and reflex responsiveness for short bursts of heightened offensive and defensive physical performance. 

Passive: If the user's reiryoku is significantly higher than an opponent's magical or spiritual energy, they cannot cut the user. 

Fused Skills

Agility (Rank 3)

A compound skill that enhances coordination, balance, reflexes, and movement efficiency. It represents the user's ability to transition smoothly between positions, react quickly to threats, and maintain control over their body during combat or high-speed movement. This skill improves foot placement, dodge timing, and the fluidity of bursts such as sprints, leaps, and directional shifts. Agility supports all forms of physical engagement, reducing the delay between intention and action while making the user harder to track or predict in motion. As rank increases, it allows for increased speed, evasion potential, ration timing, and kinetic fluidity in combat. 

Cultivation (Rank 5)

A core spiritual discipline that combines internal stillness with active energy manipulation.

While in a meditative state, the user regenerates Reiryoku at an enhanced rate and learns to refine and expand their spiritual core.

Each rank of this skill multiplies the user's total Reiryoku by the rank value.

Cultivation also increases Reiryoku control, improves Reiatsu projection, and passively accelerates growth of other spiritual abilities.

At higher ranks, this skill allows the user to substitute sleep, suppress spiritual signatures, and achieve breakthroughs in soul-based power.

This skill increases your base reiryoku by 500}

Reiryoku Dominion (Rank 4)

This skill represents a foundational mastery over spiritual energy, vastly improving the user's control, harnessing, and externalization of reiryoku. As the skill increases in rank, it gradually grants the user absolute command over both internal and external spiritual pressure (Reiatsu). Internally, this mastery allows for more precise regulation and distribution of reiryoku within the body, significantly improving efficiency in physical enhancement, healing, and spiritual energy-based abilities. Externally, the user gains the ability to project and manipulate their reiatsu deliberately, creating spiritual pressure capable of suppressing, intimidating, or even incapacitating weaker beings. At higher ranks, Reiryoku Dominion will enable complete concealment of the user's spiritual presence, as well as precise, overwhelming concentration of reiatsu against singular targets. Additionally, each rank greatly accelerates the ease and effectiveness of learning and mastering new spiritual techniques. Current neutral control is passive.

Base Reiryoku increased by +1000.

Due to this skill, reiryoku regeneration is now significantly enhanced based on spiritual potential:

F: 1% per minute | E: 5% per minute | D: 10% per minute | C: 20% per minute | B: 35% per minute | A: 50% per minute | S: 75% per minute | SS: 100% per minute | SSS: 150% per minute}

Progress.

It was never fast. Not really. Even with the system, even with my fusion ability, none of this came easy.

Observe at Rank 4. Reiryoku Dominion at 4. Cultivation at 5. Swordsmanship at 7. Each of them representing thousands of hours of mental math, broken stances, soaked clothes, and aching tendons. It still looked satisfyingly neat on screen. 

Exercise had snuck up on me. At Rank 5, it was less of a skill now and more of a state of being. I could train for hours without hitting a real wall. Fatigue came slower. Recovery, faster. My body felt like it had adapted to the grind itself. But sometimes, that made it hard to tell if I was pushing hard enough. If I was just... coasting on efficiency. It worried me. If not for the gains in strength. I could probably benchpress around 500lbs if I tried. Pretty impressive, for a human. 

Basic Swordsmanship was responsive. Alive. The dojo sessions with Murayama and Katase had shaped me faster than I thought possible. At first, they just kicked my ass. Then, the system caught up. Now, sparring was a feedback loop—every parry, every misstep, every unexpected counter burned into Perfect Memory and showed up in the next match. Rank 7 felt deserved. Earned in sweat and bruises and sideways glances from two girls who were clearly wondering who the hell I really was. I even impressed the dojo master. Apparently he doesn't give out complements, yet I still received one.

Reiryoku Body Enhancement, though... that was still frustrating. Useful, sure. I'd learned how to channel it into my legs, into my arms and hands, even isolate it to my core for balance. But it was still something I had to activate. It wasn't seamless. Not yet. My dream was to keep it on passively—no flare, no burst, just on. Reinforcement as second nature. The same way I breathed or blinked. I wasn't there. Not even close. Every time I overused it, I'd burn through my reserves and spend the next five minutes doing pushups just to justify the downtime. It felt primitive. Not to mention I knew I needed it to reach shunpo. I theorized that my low level here was why I couldn't figure it out. 

Agility was stuck. Rank 3 had taken weeks. Still, I could feel the difference. My footwork was tighter. Reflexes sharper. I could pivot around strikes mid-step now, chaining motion with motion like I was reading ahead in a fight before it happened. Sparring made that obvious. Katase's strikes didn't surprise me anymore. Murayama's overheads were easier to bait. But the rank wouldn't budge. It was like the system was waiting for something else—maybe for me to apply it in real combat. Not training.

Cultivation, at least, felt steady. Every day I practiced it. Without fail. It had become a ritual—before sleep, after training, sometimes even in the bath. Quiet focus, breathing, energy refinement. At Rank 5, it even bled into my movement, keeping my regeneration trickling ever so faster, even when I wasn't meditating. I could feel the shape of my Reiryoku shifting—becoming denser, more responsive. Not just power, but quality. I could tell, I could feel it. And the stats panel may have told me too. 

Reiryoku Dominion, though... that was the one that was becoming more and more irritating. 

At Rank 4, I'd hit a wall. A solid, invisible plateau. Even when I trained it alongside cultivation, even when I pushed my suppression to the edge, my progress barely moved. I couldn't brute force it anymore. My theory is that my spiritual potential needed to increase first. However I do that. 

Still... there were benefits.

My spiritual pressure no longer leaked out like a broken faucet. I could keep it in check now. Walk through town without glowing like a damn lighthouse. That alone was progress. But it didn't make me invisible. Any supernatural being who glanced my way could still tell. They'd still clock me instantly as "one of them." Not human. Not mundane.

And that irritated me too. I didn't want the attention. Well, I never want attention in social settings, but still. 

I didn't need to be invisible. But I wanted the option. I wanted control.

Maybe that was the whole point of Dominion. Not just wielding power—but owning it. Shaping it. Refining it until it bent to my will, not the other way around. Rank 10 couldn't come soon enough. 

I closed the panel.

I sighed and opened the Status Panel, the familiar interface rising in front of me in faint translucent blue. No matter how many times I looked at it, it still felt surreal. A system screen, just like in the fanfics I used to read. Only this time, it was mine.

{Status

Name: Toshio Amano

Title: —

Race: Human

Age: 15

Level: 13 (650/1300)

Health: 100/100

Reiryoku: 3225 → 64,500

Physique: C-

Zanjutsu: D

Hoho: E

Hakuda: F

Spiritual Potential: C

Soul Resonance: 5%}

Level 13. Finally.

The dojo questline had pushed me over after I beat that insufferable third dan who treated me like a tourist. It had taken everything I had—sparring, polishing blades, even helping clean the damn shrine. Worth it. I'd grinned when the "Level Up" ping hit. Murayama and Katase looked a little weirded out, probably not used to seeing me smile. 

But then the system didn't give me a runestone.

I stared at the empty space where the reward should've been. Waited a minute. Refreshed the panel.

Nothing.

My smile had faded fast.

I grumbled now just thinking about it. What was the point of finally getting to 13 if the system wasn't going to play fair? Every other milestone had given me something—EXP, quests, skills, even my first runestone at Level 12. But this time? Just silence. No reward. No explanation.

Still, I had to admit—I liked what I saw.

Physique: C-. That was big. No doubt the Exercise skill had carried a lot of that. I hadn't slacked. I hadn't skipped a single day. I ran. I trained. I fought. And the result was visible—my strikes had more weight, my footwork more stability, and I wasn't winded after ten minutes of movement. C-minus felt earned. Not a gift. A result. I felt stronger. More durable. Whenever a shinai struck exposed parts of my body, it didn't even sting. 

Hoho: E. I frowned. That one did sting.

Agility was Rank 3 now. I'd improved dramatically in speed, movement flow, step control—but the stat hadn't budged. It was still sitting there like a stubborn nail, mocking me. I figured it was tied directly to Agility, or maybe I just needed to apply it in a real fight. Either way, it irritated me. I wasn't slow anymore. But the system hadn't caught up yet. Maybe once I unlock flash step?

Zanjutsu: D. No surprise there.

Swordsmanship was my highest skill, and it showed. Every time I stepped into the dojo, my body moved more instinctively. More precise. Rank 7 had pushed me over the edge. Now I could see openings mid-strike, adjust to feints, even parry things I wouldn't have seen coming a month ago. D-rank meant I wasn't a beginner anymore. I was also a 1st Kyu, something that Murayama and Katase can't seem to get over. But this was still just basic. Which meant there was still a long road ahead. I should try to find a sword style. Maybe my Zanpakutō spirit had one? 

Hakuda: F. Still untouched.

I hadn't even bothered. Hand-to-hand could wait. I'd made a conscious decision to focus on blade work and movement first. Get one field solid before branching out. Hakuda would come later—maybe after Hoho cracked into C, maybe once I found someone worth learning from.

Spiritual Potential: C. Same as always.

No real movement there. I had a hunch it only improved through emotional shifts or massive breakthroughs—not training. Which meant it was out of my control, and I hated that.

Still, what caught my eye—every time—was the raw number:

Base Reiryoku: 3,225

That used to be impressive on its own. Now, it was a multiplier playground.

With Cultivation at Rank 5, it was quintupled: 16,125.

And Reiryoku Dominion took that and multiplied it again. ×4.

Final output: 64,500

I whistled under my breath. It still made my brain twitch. Sixty-four thousand. That was monstrous.

Or at least, I thought it was. I had no idea what the average magical energy or mana pool for a devil, exorcist, or fallen angel looked like. For all I knew, I was sitting at mid-tier numbers. Or maybe I was top one percent. Or maybe lower than Dohnaseek. Man I think that would actually embarrass me. 

Observe might help with that someday—when it reached Rank 5 or 6. Maybe then I'd start seeing hard numbers on other people. Until then, I was flying blind.

And then there was Soul Resonance.

5%. Still.

I stared at that number longer than I cared to admit. No progress. Not even a twitch. It'd been like that since Day One.

I really didn't like how the system described it: As your soul learns to attune to itself clearly, the distance between you and your Zanpakutō shortens. Most likely has something to do with my connection to Shinjūka.

But the explanation wasn't technical. It wasn't measurable. It was poetic. Vague. Something about depth of self, honesty of emotion, reciprocal recognition—bullshit riddles, if you asked me.

I needed instructions, not metaphors.

I groaned under my breath and muttered, "Just tell me what to do. Cry in a cave? Meditate harder? Bleed on the blade and whisper secrets?"

It was maddening. Physics never played these games. In quantum mechanics, probabilities could be defined. In atomic theory, interactions could be measured. If energy input equaled output under a given condition, it was reproducible—calculable. You could isolate the variables, adjust the parameters, and confirm the results across any controlled system. But this? This was chaos dressed up as poetry. No equations. No symmetry. Just vague metaphors and emotional noise.

This? This was feelings. Self-discovery. Soul stuff.

I hated it.

Still, I knew it was important. I hadn't even seen her yet. And until I reached a deeper resonance, that probably wouldn't change.

I shut the panel down and rubbed the back of my neck, jaw tense.

Everything was improving. Everything except the things I couldn't brute force.

Maybe that's why they mattered most.

I took one last breath of forest air. The light was fading, and my Reiryoku had just ticked back to full. I was going to get up before my mind drifted back to Murayama and Katase. 

I wasn't sure when it happened, but somewhere between sparring matches and shared walks back from the dojo, I started looking forward to seeing them.

That surprised me more than anything else.

Back home—my home, my old world—I didn't enjoy being around people. I wasn't antisocial, just… indifferent. Or maybe I was, I can't tell. Everyone just felt like noise. Like distractions. I had my work, my research, and eventually my obsession with progress. Small talk drained me. Shallow conversations were pointless. And if someone got too close emotionally, I'd quietly, efficiently distance myself.

But now?

I liked hanging out with them.

They were in younger, immature bodies… I mean mentally… Damn it. Anyway, they still cling to teenage assumptions about the world. And yet—none of that mattered. They'd laugh about stupid things after practice while I sported small smiles. Murayama would rant about how I wasn't "trying hard enough" when she couldn't beat me, and Katase would lightly tease me for how serious I got during warmups.

And I'd respond.

Not coldly. Not awkwardly. Well, in my perspective. I had no idea how other people perceived me honestly. 

But I talked to them.

I wasn't sure what to do with that.

I wasn't stupid—well, I may do stupid things sometimes–

At that thought, my inventory screen popped open on its own—unprompted. A gentle shing as the translucent display slid into view… and my sword sat there, glowing faintly. Its handle tilted just slightly to the left. If I didn't know better, I'd say it looked smug. Things can rotate in this menu? 

I narrowed my eyes.

Then pointed straight at it.

"Enough out of you!"

The forest echoed with my outburst. Cicadas paused. A bird startled from a branch nearby.

I didn't drop my arm. Just kept pointing. Ten full seconds of silent mutual defiance. Me, glaring. The blade, unblinking(?). 

Then, with a flicker of dim light, the sword blinked—once—and the inventory panel closed itself like a kid slamming a door after shouting an explicative, escaping their parents.

I sat there, arm still raised, feeling like an idiot.

"…Unbelievable," I muttered, lowering my hand. "I'm being trolled by a sword. My sword!"

After regaining what little dignity I had left, I sighed and picked the thread of my thoughts back up.

I'd say things without thinking. Do things that I'd cringe at five minutes later. But emotionally? Logically? I knew they were comfortable around me. I knew they liked being near me.

And some part of me suspected there was more under the surface.

The thing that confused me most wasn't just their kindness or familiarity. It was the phrasing. The things they said. Tone. Pacing. I'd read enough romantic fiction and heard enough anime banter to recognize when people were flirting.

But I couldn't process it.

Why flirt with me?

I wasn't charming. Or warm. Or emotionally available. I was blunt, analytical, sometimes sarcastic, and occasionally forgot people existed when I got caught up in thought. I didn't even know how to read subtext unless it was mathematically diagrammed and color-coded.

And yet…

Murayama's eyes lingered a little too long sometimes. Katase's laughter was a bit too musical. There were pauses in their questions that left space I didn't know how to fill. And what's up with Murayama calling me cute? 

It left me frozen more than once. Not in embarrassment. Just… confusion. I didn't know what to do with it. Theoretically, I know I have a handsome face, I made it to be. Probably a mistake in hindsight. I hate attention. 

I didn't understand why she kept doing it either. I'm sure cuteness goes beyond mere looks. Regardless though, I didn't want it to stop. My interactions with them at least.

I sighed again and let myself slump slightly, the tension ebbing from my shoulders.

Whatever this is… whatever it means… I'll just keep doing what I'm doing.

Because somehow, for the first time in years, I was enjoying myself around people. And I wasn't ready to lose that.

I signed and stood up. 

Time for another round.

"Again."

Always again.

At that moment, just to my right, I heard a branch break. I snapped my head over to the sound, being completely pulled out of my thoughts, startled. 

"What a weak looking human! But with that magical aura, I can already tell! You're gonna be delicious!"

"Uh oh."