Template system in High school : DXD

The early morning light filtered through the thin curtains, casting soft golden lines across the tatami mat floor.

Jin had already completed his morning routine—ten kilometers of running, a hundred push-ups, sit-ups, and a cold shower to ground himself. Now, freshly bathed and dressed for school, he sat at the table with a slice of toast in one hand and a book in the other. His eyes lingered on a line he'd already read three times.

"A man who hasn't conquered his mind has already been conquered by the world." —Cato the Elder.

He exhaled, setting the book down beside his half-finished plate. The words echoed too close to home.

Two months. It had already been two full months since he'd died and awakened in this new world. Two months of living as Jin Kazuma. The line between his past and present was beginning to blur. He hadn't even noticed when the shift took place—when survival turned into habit, and habit into identity.

He had stopped thinking of himself as someone who came from another world. He acted like Jin, thought like Jin, even started dreaming like him.

But he wasn't just Jin Kazuma.

That was a name—he choose to adapt .

He leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling.

"I chose this name… but that doesn't mean I should forget who I was before."

Other than working on his template, his time had drifted into a passive rhythm—school, workouts, avoidance. No real connection. No intention. Just coasting.

"Today… I start over. No more hiding behind routine. I'll live as I choose, not as someone else."

He checked the time. Almost time for school.

He grabbed his bag, slipped on his shoes, and opened the front door.

Across the hallway, he saw the door to Kuno's apartment. It was shut. Maybe he should talk to her. Then again, maybe she needed time . Still…

He took a step toward her door—

—when a noise made him freeze.

A commotion.

Jin's head snapped to the side.

He moved to look on parking ground, eyes sharpening.

Two men. No—three. All dressed in dark clothes. One of them shoved a small figure into a Black van. Another dragged someone larger—Muten.

Kuno.

Muten.

The side door of the van slammed shut.

The engine revved.

And then, with a screech of tires, the vehicle sped off.

Jin stood motionless in the corridor.

Completely silent.

His breathing slowed. Time stretched. Every sound—the wind rattling a loose shutter, the fading engine, the ticking clock on the wall behind him—seemed to stretch into eternity.

He didn't move.

His hands clenched slowly at his sides.

That just happened.

Someone had taken them. it looked forced .

Muten, the man who never bowed to anyone. And Kuno, the lonely little girl who used to cling to his sleeve and call him "oni-san" with too much innocence for a world like this.

Gone.

Just like that.

His thoughts didn't spiral. They narrowed. Sharpened.

And suddenly, the haze of the past two months—the lull, the laziness, the pretending to be an observer in someone else's story—burned away.

This was real.

This was his story.

And someone had just touched a piece of it.

The weight in his chest shifted.

He opened his interface.

Status.

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TEMPLATE

[TAE-SIK CHA – 80%]

======

What should I do now?

That thought screamed through Jin's mind as he stood frozen in the apartment hallway, the echo of screeching tires still ringing in his ears.

Breathe. Think. Act.

His fists unclenched slightly. He needed help. No matter how fast he ran or how sharp his instincts were—he wasn't a superhero.

Step one: go to the police.

Without wasting another second, Jin bolted down the stairs and onto the street. His breath came sharp, his pulse loud in his ears. He didn't even bother to change out of his uniform.

The nearest station was just fifteen minutes away by foot.

Fifteen minutes too long.

Kaminari Ward Police Station

A dull building tucked between a tea shop and an electronics repair store. Jin pushed through the sliding glass doors, nearly colliding with a man leaving the lobby.

The place smelled like stale coffee and bureaucracy.

A sleepy-looking officer at the front desk perked up when Jin approached.

"I need to file a report," Jin said, trying to steady his voice. "My neighbors were just kidnapped. Right in front of my building. I saw it."

The officer blinked, then straightened in his seat.

"Kidnapping? Slow down, kid. Start from the beginning."

Jin rattled off every detail—what time it was, the location, what he saw. How Muten Okami and Kuno had been forced into a van by thugs. How it drove off toward the south end of the block.

When the officer asked about motive, Jin hesitated—then told him the truth.

"I think it might be loan sharks. Muten-san… I heard he had some debt."

The officer, who'd been scribbling notes idly, suddenly froze. His eyes flicked up to Jin, recognition flashing for just a second.

Jin caught it.

The officer swallowed. A faint bead of sweat trickled down the side of his face.

"What's the van look like?"

"black toyata van."

That did it.

The officer's hand trembled for a second before he placed his pen down. "Alright. We'll look into it."

Jin's brows furrowed.

"That's it?"

"We'll start the process. These things take time."

"I gave you the number plate," Jin said, voice rising. "I saw it clearly. It was black, unmarked—number 53-22 AO. Can't you just track it down? Right now?"

The officer sighed and leaned back. "Look, kid. Calm down. You can't just barge in here and demand things. Maybe your neighbor just ran off to avoid his debts. Happens all the time."

Jin's jaw clenched. "You didn't see what I saw."

"No, and I don't need to. Legally, we can't take action until 24 hours have passed unless there's evidence of immediate danger. And a guy with loans disappearing? Not uncommon."

Jin slammed his palm against the counter.

"I said he was kidnapped!"

"And I said," the officer snapped, eyes narrowing, "that your deadbeat neighbor probably got what was coming. If he didn't want trouble, he shouldn't have taken out loans he couldn't repay. He'll be back by nightfall—crawling, maybe—but back."

Something shifted in Jin's chest.

That wasn't just laziness.

That wasn't protocol.

That was deflection. Defensiveness. A hint of fear.

His instincts flared.

And his knowledge from template kicked in.

Jin's gaze sharpened. He studied the man—the way he fiddled with his collar, the way his leg bounced under the desk, how his eyes avoided his.

He was scared.

Why?

Not of Jin. But of who Jin was talking about.

That one moment of hesitation when Jin mentioned van, that flicker of panic when he brought up the number plate—it all clicked.

He knows something. Or worse, he's involved.

Jin stared at the man for a few more seconds, letting silence stretch between them.

"Thanks for your help," Jin said finally, voice flat.

Then he turned on his heel and walked out of the station.

The moment the door shut behind him, the officer let out a heavy sigh. He pulled out a handkerchief and wiped the sweat from his brow.

"Damn brat," he muttered under his breath. "Doesn't even know who he's messing with... causing me stress over some disposable trash."

Back outside, Jin stood on the pavement, hands buried in his pockets, his thoughts churning.

The sky above was clear, too calm for a day like this.

No help from the police.

He felt it—his gut telling him that time was running out. And if the officer's fear was anything to go by, they weren't just loan sharks. They were something else. Maybe gangster

"Alright then," he whispered to himself.

"If no one else will do something—

—then I will."

His eyes hardened.

Because Muten and Kuno weren't just neighbors.

They were the closest thing he had to family in this new life.

And he wasn't going to let them vanish into some shadowy corner of the city.

Not without a fight.