DxD: Fusion

The aroma of jasmine tea drifted through the air, weaving between shelves lined with ancient tomes and occult artifacts. Crimson light from the stained-glass windows cast long, elegant shadows over the room's gothic interior.

Velvet chairs arranged in a semi-circle around a low, intricately carved table gave the space the air of an aristocratic salon masquerading as a high school clubroom. This was her domain—Rias Gremory's domain—and she had built it with careful hands.

The Occult Research Club building had once been a decrepit section of Kuoh's old schoolhouse, abandoned and destined for demolition until she had intervened. A few quiet words to the right administrators, some enchantments, and a well-placed transfer of demonic currency had transformed it into something far more regal. Now, it served as her base of operations—her sanctuary within the human world.

Rias leaned back into her chair, the crimson curtain of her hair cascading down her back like a waterfall.

Akeno stood beside her, calm as ever, pouring tea with the grace of a shrine maiden and the precision of a sniper. Koneko lounged near the window, curled like a small white cat on the sill, her eyes half-lidded in boredom but never truly asleep. She would occasionally nibble on a piece of candy.

"I've fulfilled two contracts this week," Akeno said, handing Rias a porcelain teacup with both hands, her voice soft and lilting. "Both were handled without incident. One was a love charm request. The other was... less charming."

"Summoning devils for revenge is so old-fashioned," Rias murmured, accepting the cup. Her fingers closed around it absentmindedly, but she didn't drink. Her gaze drifted beyond the flickering candlelight to the far wall, where an old tapestry fluttered despite the absence of wind.

"Mmm," Koneko mumbled from the window. "Some humans are still stuck in the past."

Rias smiled at that. "Yes, well... perhaps we all are, in some ways."

Truthfully, her thoughts were elsewhere.

She looked around the room—the sanctum she'd built from dust and ruin—and allowed herself a moment of quiet pride. Kuoh was everything she'd hoped it would be. Far enough from the rigid expectations of the Underworld, and yet still far enough away from large, bustling cities like Tokyo.

She was greatful that Sona, her best friend and rival, had chosen to attend school here alongside her. Rias had been relentless in convincing Sirzechs, to let her go, to let her claim a piece of the human world as her own.

Her brother, always doting yet suffocating, had finally relented after much persuasion—and only after placing a series of magical wards and contingency plans that still made her bristle in mild annoyance.

At least he finally relented, despite agreeing to his overprotective stipulations.

The first few days of school had passed smoothly. The girls whispered about her in the hallways, as they always did—admiring her beauty, envying her poise, and speculating wildly about her connections to have been able to claim an entire building as her clubhouse. She already heard whispers of the student body calling her and Akeno both the two great ladies of Kuoh.

The newly co-ed policy had also turned Kuoh Academy upside down with gossip and speculation, especially since only one boy had enrolled this year. One.

And that one... was odd.

Toshio Amano.

She'd noticed him the moment he stepped into class before anyone else, before the other girls had time to notice whether he was beautiful or plain. He didn't seek attention, far from it. He carried himself with a quiet, confident detachment, never boasting, never stumbling over words like the other boys she had known.

His aura was faintly magical, but not in any structured way. It wasn't sacred, nor fully demonic. Not even distinctly magical. More like... a pulse. A fragment of something deeper. It didn't match any signature she'd cataloged before, yet still similar enough to the human magicians she's encountered to be considered human.

He sat two rows to her left, close enough to be observed without suspicion. He rarely spoke, unless prompted, and even then, his answers were dry and calculated—never rude, but never inviting. It intrigued her. There was power there, she was sure of it. Not strong enough to pose a threat—not yet—but enough to make her raise a well-groomed eyebrow.

She had considered recruiting him, briefly. A weak magician might not be worth the effort, but... if he was something else entirely, then allowing him to remain unclaimed was a risk. Stray devils could sometimes sense spiritual anomalies—treat them as prey.

If that happened just outside her territory, she would feel guilty for not being able to protect him. But for now, if he stayed within the bounds of Kuoh, her territory, he should be fine.

Also, the other part, he was fairly handsome.

Many of the girls had tried to get his attention; all had failed. Not once did he show the faintest sign of being flattered, embarrassed, or even aware of the fuss he created with his mere presence. For a boy his age, to not respond to an entire female student population basically throwing themselves at him, odd indeed. He didn't even so much as blush either.

By week's end, the rumors about him had grown into their own minor ecosystem. There was a Toshio Amano Fan Club (unofficial, but with a surprisingly sophisticated website); there were conspiracy theories about his real identity (crown prince of a foreign country, secret government agent, literal robot); there was even a list circulating of the three girls he had allegedly "crushed on," all of which were complete fabrications. The best part was, Toshio was probably clueless to it all.

On the third night of school, she had Koneko tail him after school. Not out of suspicion, but in curiosity. She wanted to know more about the mysterious aura of energy he had. She was surprised when all he did was go to a kendo dojo, then go home. She supposed it made sense. He joined the school kendo club on his first day, or tried to. He had become a full member after day two.

One thing that was odd though, he walked home without his backpack, but yet had a long object in a black bag, likely a shinai. Maybe a sword. Why would he leave his backpack at the dojo though?

Koneko was certainly annoyed she had to stake out the dojo for so long. The petite girl would never admit that to Rias, but there were always signs.

By the fourth day, Rias found herself thinking about him in idle moments—wondering if she should just approach him and get it over with. It was not in her nature to be so tentative. She was a Gremory, for Satan's sake, and she had never shied away from a challenge. Yet there was a peculiar pleasure in the slow burn, a scholar's delight in unraveling a mystery one brittle layer at a time.

She had time. If he was going to join her peerage. Still time until that upcoming day.

There was also the matter of Sona. If she had noticed Toshio's oddity—and of course she had; Sona was nothing if not thorough—then they were in a silent race to determine who would claim him first. If he was worth claiming. Sona had the advantage of intellect, but Rias possessed the more dangerous weapon: charisma.

If she decided to recruit the boy, she could have him in her Peerage by the end of the week. But she hesitated, because she did not want a tool to solve her own problems. A chess piece treated as disposable, like so many other devil kings treated theirs. She wanted to know what he was. Who he was.

"Still thinking about him?" Akeno asked.

Rias blinked as she was pulled out of her musings and turned her eyes toward her queen. Akeno offered a faint smile, the corners of her lips curling in amusement as she gestured with her chin toward the untouched teacup in Rias's hand.

"You're getting easy to read, Rias," Akeno said, her tone light but her dark eyes observant.

"Am I?" Rias mused, then finally took a sip. The tea was perfect, as always. "Just wondering if I'll be able to add more members to my peerage this year."

"You mean besides the obvious candidate?" Akeno tilted her head cutely, a knowing smirk on her face, her generous breasts bouncing slightly with the movement.

Rias gave a soft chuckle. "Yes. Besides Sona beating me in every academic ranking, I don't want her beating me in adding members before I can."

Koneko stirred at that, looking over to the two older devils. 

"You just don't like that the only boy in school hasn't flirted with you yet," Akeno teased.

"That too," Rias admitted, eyes gleaming mischievously. Rias knew how good her looks were. Every devil outside of her family have only been telling her about her beauty her entire life. So why didn't her passive charm work on this boy?

The girls laughed—Koneko with a quiet huff, Akeno with her usual melodic charm.

Akeno poured herself another cup and regarded Rias over the rim.

"You're afraid he'll say no." Rias merely gazed at her tea.

"It's refreshing, though, isn't it? We're both so used to being adored. Kind of makes me want to chase after him." Akeno had an almost sadistic gleam in her eyes.

Rias let out a snort of laughter this time.

"Call down Akeno. No need to scar him." In response, Akeno put her finger on the corner of her upturned lips, as if to say 'who me?'.

"Well, if we're done for tonight, I think I'll head home. I have some catching up to do."

"On what?" Akeno asked, her voice sly.

Rias grinned, baring a flash of perfect, pearly teeth. "One of my favorite anime. They finally released the new episodes of Gugutsu Tizen. I've been waiting all week."

"Priorities, huh," Akeno teased again.

"Absolutely." Rias stood and stretched, graceful even in casual motion, causing her chest to puff out slightly, her white button up struggling against the motion.

"If anything important comes up, message me. Otherwise, the rest of the night is mine."

Koneko raised a hand without looking.

"Don't stay up all night. Again."

"Not planning on it, Koneko." Rias chuckled softly.

Rias gave one last glance around the room before turning toward the door.

The ORC building, with its thick stone walls and flickering sconces, was beginning to feel like home. Like hers. She'd fought hard for this place, this freedom. The freedom to watch anime and read manga, instead of attending high-class devil social outings.

She wasn't going to let anyone—stray devils, fallen angels, mysterious boys, or even her own family—disrupt it.

XXX

The sharp scent of lacquered wood and sweat hung in the air, mingling with the soft tap of feet adjusting positions on the waxed floor. Fluorescent lights buzzed faintly above the Kuoh Academy gymnasium, casting an even sheen across the polished kendo ring taped out at center stage.

CRACK.

Shinai collided with shinai in a blur of motion. The sound was clean—like bamboo snapping through the wind—but it came with impact, pressure, and precision. The shock of it reverberated down Toshio's arms. He barely moved his wrists to absorb the force.

Another blow came, fast and low.

CRACK-CRACK.

Toshio turned his left shoulder just enough to deflect the strike, his body gliding a half-step to the side. He didn't counter. Not yet. He didn't need to. He watched.

His opponent, Kaya Hozuki, was the third-year captain of the club, and she was fierce.

Every strike was executed with expert precision, refined through years of disciplined practice. Her long black hair was tied into a no-nonsense ponytail, the tail flicking sharply with every pivot of her slender form. She had the textbook stance of a seasoned competitor: stable, forward-driving, alert. But her brows were pinched with frustration now. Her strikes were good—excellent, even—but every one was parried. Redirected. Nullified with movements that looked almost careless.

No. Effortless.

Thwack!

Another swing—this one diagonal. Toshio didn't move this time until the last possible instant, when his wrists flicked upward like a whisper of wind cutting through the forest.

The strike missed.

The girls around the edge of the practice hall watched in stunned silence. A few were frozen mid-wipe with towels still held in hand. Others stood clutching shinai, lips parted, eyes wide. Even the other senior members weren't saying a word.

Captain Hozuki hadn't been bested by anyone in over a year.

Yet this quiet, first-year transfer student had already scored two clean hits.

Toshio's expression remained unreadable behind his mask. Calm. Focused. His breathing was steady. His footwork silent. The only sound now was the soft creak of his bare soles repositioning across the glossy wood floor.

Hozuki lunged again—this time with fury. She twisted her hips into a sweeping strike that could've broken someone's guard outright. It came with a sharp, commanding KEI! that rang through the gym like a battle cry.

Toshio met it with a sidestep and a single, decisive THWACK to her exposed shoulder guard.

Point.

Match.

Three to zero.

The final strike echoed like a gavel across the room.

Hozuki held still for a moment, her shoulders heaving under the padded jacket. Then, slowly, she lowered her shinai and pulled off her helmet. Her face was flushed—partly from exertion, partly from frustration. A loose strand of damp black hair stuck to her cheek.

She stared at him, then exhaled sharply.

"You win," she said simply, bowing. "That makes three."

Toshio removed his helmet with the same deliberate calm he'd shown throughout the match. His dark hair clung slightly to his forehead, but his face was as unreadable as ever—his steel-blue eyes unwavering.

There was a brief pause. Then Hozuki stepped forward and held out her shinai across both palms.

"You're captain now."

Gasps rippled through the spectators like a sudden gust of wind.

Toshio blinked. "You're serious."

"I don't joke about things like this," she said, exhaling again. "The strongest should lead. That's the dojo's way and the kendo club's way. And... I hate losing. But I hate clinging to status more." She gave him a sidelong glance, folding her arms. "I'll help you with the transition—paperwork, drills, club approvals. But I'm challenging you again next week."

Toshio nodded. "I'll be here. I hope you win."

Her breath caught for a second. A small, involuntary blush colored her cheeks, and she turned her face away. "Don't patronize me."

"I'm not."

She clicked her tongue softly, but the corner of her mouth twitched like she might've smiled if no one were looking.

Behind them, the club finally broke into hushed chatter.

"Did he really just beat Hozuki-senpai...?"

"He didn't even look like he was trying…"

"Is he single? He's so cool…"

"I want him to teach me. Like… one-on-one…"

A group of second-year girls stood huddled by the storage racks, all whispering excitedly behind their masks. Even some of the older members wore looks of stunned respect.

Toshio turned to face the group, lowering his shinai.

"If everyone's this fired up over my win, then I have a proposal," he said, voice clear and steady. "The dojo I train at—Yamashita Traditional Sword Arts—runs a more intense regimen than what is practiced at this club. Twice the physical demand. Better results." He lifted his shinai slightly, as if to indicate proof of his statement.

A few girls went pale. One actually took a half-step backward.

But others leaned forward, visibly intrigued. Several nodded.

"If you want to get stronger," Toshio continued, "this will help. We'll start tomorrow."

Someone near the back raised a hand hesitantly. "Will... you be leading the training yourself?"

"Yes."

That alone seemed to inspire an enthusiastic ripple of agreement.

"Then I'm in."

"Me too."

"O-oh! Same here!"

Even Hozuki gave him a sidelong glance, hiding a smirk. Maybe a small blush.

With club activities winding down and the gym lights beginning to dim, Toshio returned his shinai to the locker and changed. The last echoes of practice clattered to a close. He thanked Hozuki for the match, and walked calmly out into the quiet courtyard of the school.

Toshio looked up to the sky.

"I wonder when Kiba will come around. I need a new sparring partner."

Without another word or sound to his movements, he walked out the front gate.

He hadn't noticed he was being watched from a second story window, a flash of red as they turned away once he left through the gate.

XXX

Toshio Perspective

Kendo club captain, huh?

I adjusted the strap on my shinai bag, which actually contained my Zanpakutō. I tried my best to keep it close.

Being in class without it feels wrong—like I'm missing a limb. After it being by my side ever since that day in the forest, I didn't realize how much I'd rely on its weight, its presence, until I had to leave it in my inventory for the entire school day. It made me wonder how I had kept it there for so long at the beginning of my life here. 

The evening breeze pushed past me, warm and lazy. The sky was streaked with fading amber light, the last edge of the day curling over Kuoh's rooftops. Crickets were already starting up in the distance.

Kendo club captain. It wasn't like I hadn't seen it coming. I'd wanted the position shortly after I joined. Not for status. Not for ego. Just... because I felt like I wanted it. A novel experience for me let me tell you.

I knew that with my skill, I'd be able to defeat anyone there anyway. I wanted to enhance the club, and teach what I knew, what I gained through the system.

Still, getting in hadn't been instant. Being the only guy in the entire school, then signing up for a club full of girls swinging sticks around? In a world where jiggle physics were turned up to the maximum? Yeah. It took some convincing.

The first meeting had been cold smiles and quiet assumptions. I heard the whispers before I even crossed the gym floor.

"Is he just here to stare at us sweating?"

"This isn't some closet pervert that thinks he can sneak a peak is it?"

It wasn't a ridiculous concern. Given this world, and given one particular lecherous trio, it was extremely reasonable.

Just inaccurate. I'd shut that down in two days. All it took was one match against a third year. I didn't goad or taunt. I didn't leer or have wandering eyes. I didn't flinch, my confidence in my skill radiating out of me. During my 2 day probationary period, I just kept showing up, matching tempo, adapting to their styles. The potential pervert label died quietly, replaced by something else. Respect, maybe. Or admiration.

That was fine too.

I hadn't forgotten that my skills weren't really earned the way theirs were. My system gave me Basic Swordsmanship right out of the gate, and I could feel its structure in my muscles from the very first swing—angles, spacing, tempo. It was like someone had carved it into my bones. And when I practiced, the returns came fast. Unfairly fast.

I wanted to pass some of that on. It wasn't much, but it felt... responsible. A certain quote from Uncle Ben came to mind.

I didn't have to bleed to earn what they had to claw for. The least I could do was give them a guidance.

A few days ago, just before the school year really picked up, I'd gone back to the Yamashita dojo for one more test. A private challenge against the master himself.

It was my first real loss.

3–2.

I made him work for it, at least.

That alone had felt like a win. And the aftermath had been even more surprising. Right after that match, I'd gotten the notification.

{Basic Swordsmanship (Rank 10) has evolved into

Advanced Swordsmanship (Rank 1)}

I didn't know skills could evolve.

It made sense, I supposed.

Advanced felt completely different than basic swordsmanship too. It didn't just feel like I'd improved. I was thinking in strategic layers now—pressure, misdirection, grip tension, rhythm, feints, breaks. I wasn't just reacting. I was composing. Parrying had become much easier, and allowed me to control the flow of a match. Well, at least with opponents with less skill.

I paused at the corner of the quiet road leading to my home and pulled up my status screen.

{Name: Toshio Amano

Title: Zanjutsu Prodigy

Race: Human

Age: 15

Level: 15 (1450/1500)

Health: 100/100

Reiryoku: 130,900 / 130,900

Physique: C

Zanjutsu: C

Hoho: C-

Hakuda: E

Spiritual Potential: C

Soul Resonance: 15%}

It was strange seeing those numbers now. Four weeks ago, I was still reeling from the fight with that creature in the woods. Yomi. That disfigured stray devil had nearly killed me. If it weren't for my sword—my Zanpakutō—I would've died from those injuries.

Since that day, I hadn't stopped training.

Morning to night, I trained. I even rarely slept, cultivating through the night. If I wasn't doing that or at the dojo, I was working my body until I couldn't, then I would push even further.

At the dojo, I practiced each form and kata until my limbs ached. I sparred with anyone I could, anyone that could offer a challenge. Towards the end, that ended being the senior 7th Dans, including Hideki. 

Murayama and Katase seemed a bit sad that I sparred with them less, but that didn't stop them from sparring with me once per session. I still walked with them down to that familiar intersection. Saturday nights had become a tradition, where we would all go out for dinner together. 

There were even times I caught myself just enjoying the moment with them. Hearing them bicker from across the table, ending in a joke at the other's expense, but always resulted into laughter. It was...fun. 

I never missed a kendo. I'd ask sensei if anyone else in town would be willing to spar. 

Sensei, the dojo master, seeing my drive, stopped holding me back. He pitted me against higher ranks—people I shouldn't have beaten. People from other dojos who had the rumors.

I never lost.

Sensei had suggested I go to regionals, that I could probably be crowned the best in the country. I knew there were challenges there, but I wasn't all that interested. I had become attached to the routine I built in Kuoh over the summer.

Sensei was the only person I had lost to recently.

And that's only because I hadn't used any reiryoku. I was challenging my skill after all, not my spiritual strength. It probably would have made the shinai explode if I did. That would have been difficult to explain.

Raising Agility to Rank 5 and Shunpo to Rank 3 had nudged my Hoho up a grade, thankfully. Zanjutsu had been climbing consistently too. Shortly after my match with sensei, I acquired a title.

{Zanjutsu Prodigy

Achieved by reaching the highest rank in a sword-based dojo (outside of master) before age 16.

Sword styles are 20% easier to learn. Zanjutsu understanding is easier, allowing faster increases in letter grades.}

Earning this title really made me want to learn a sword style, but I had resolved myself to wait to see if my Zanpakutō spirit had one to teach me.

My eyes drifting down the list, I saw a percentage. My irritation with Soul Resonance never seemed to cease.

Fifteen percent.

Exactly where it had been after I fought that monster. I'd kept my Zanpakutō close since then. I slept with it. Ate next to it. Cultivated with in on my lap. Nothing.

No growth.

I'd thought maybe proximity was the trick. That treating it like a companion would deepen the bond.

But now I wasn't so sure. However, cultivating with it did increase my rank with that skill to 7, multiplying my total reiryoku by 7, then another 4 for R. Dominion. Speaking of, I still couldn't budge this skill. I was almost certain it had to do with either spiritual potential or soul resonance. Probably a combination of both.

After that increase to 15%, I did noticed one thing, though. My emotional range... wasn't completely shut down anymore. I could feel it, faintly. Like light creeping in through cracks in a sealed door. Irritation didn't just exist now—it threatened to become anger if I let it. Disappointment wasn't just noted and compartmentalized—it could lead to depression if I let it.

If I let it.

I never did.

There was no point in letting emotions build if I wasn't fighting something that mattered. My life or death fight in the forest had made it clear: emotions feed resonance. But I hadn't come close to death since Yomi. I hadn't faced anything—or anyone—that stirred enough inside me to unlock more.

And until I did... this percentage would likely stay frozen.

I exhaled and let the screen fade.

The stars were starting to appear above Kuoh, faint and slow. A dog barked somewhere in the distance. The weight of the disguised sword over my shoulder felt almost negligible now.

I adjusted my grip and kept walking.

Seeing a black cat walk in front of me, I crouched down to pet it, scratching its chin and behind its ears. I stood up to continue on, but I noticed the cats eyes. They seemed to hold intelligence, too much for a cat.

It couldn't be… could it?

I reached down again to give the feline a bit more love. Wouldn't hurt to get on her good side, just in case.

I continued my walk home. My thought drifted back to some certain people. The main cast of this world. Some of them, at least.

Rias Gremory.

And Akeno Himejima.

They were even more beautiful in person than the anime had ever portrayed. It wasn't fair, honestly. The screen couldn't capture it. No camera, no 2D frame, no light novel artist could have translated the exact feeling of seeing them. Not just their features—but their presence.

They held an impossible beauty and elegance.

The kind of beauty that didn't feel like it belonged in this world.

It was like watching a perfect sunset spill across the rolling green hills of the Isle of Skye in Scotland, with gold, crimson, and amethyst pouring through cirrus clouds. Something that felt both sacred and fleeting. So unreal that even your senses questioned it.

Even in their younger forms—first-year Rias and Akeno weren't that different from their third-year selves. Their hair was a touch shorter. Their bodies not quite as mature. But still...

Still enough to put grown women to shame.

They didn't carry themselves like high school girls. Not in the way they walked, not in the way they watched, not in the way they sat. Rias's posture radiated elegant nobility without arrogance. Akeno's gaze could peel the armor off a man with a glance and make him thank her for it.

The first time I saw Rias—really saw her—I felt something stir in my chest.

Just a small pulse. Barely noticeable. But enough to make my breath catch for a fraction of a second.

I didn't know what it was. It was completely foreign. 

Infatuation?

Lust?

Simple admiration?

Or maybe it was just the effect of her devil charm. That supernatural charisma she wielded like a weapon at times. A passive ability, subtle and always present. Like gravity.

I'd told myself it was just that. A trick of the senses. An enchantment that didn't mean anything.

But the memory still lingered. And every time I saw her, it's like reality was trying to prove my theory wrong.

Then there was Sona Sitri.

Her look was nearly identical to the anime—glasses, black hair in a bob framing violet eyes, the same strict composure like she'd walked out of an honors prep seminar. Maybe an inch shorter than her third-year counterpart, but no less commanding. I felt the inklings of a challenge from her; who would finish the year with better grades? I certainly had an unfair advantage. Or several.

Of course, she'd already been voted class representative within two days of school starting. And naturally, she'd carved out her spot on the student council by the end of the first week. It wasn't even a question. Just a matter of time. It made me wonder when she would become the president.

Three first-year devils in one place, all sitting in the same classroom as me.

It didn't matter how prepared I thought I was, how much I'd fantasized about this world back when it was fiction—I still hadn't quite adjusted to how real they were now.

They were real. Real people.

And I was right in the middle of their devilish chessboard.

I didn't know if they planned on recruiting me. Unless I saw a reason to, I'd say no. The only thing that worried me, were my stat scales. Right now, I had C's as a human. What would that look like for a devil? F's? The same?

I sighed as I unlocked my front door with my key with practiced ease, and walked inside.

"Guess I'll Cultivate all night again. Well, after homework."

I hadn't missed that word in the slightest.

XXX

AN: Question everyone. Would you prefer shorter chapters? Or keep it the same?