So, a review was sent to me via e-mail, and though it might have just been the person having a bad day, there was a comment as to how the quality of my writing seemed to be... diminishing. Then, there was a reference as to how this story was "mediocre".

Not "mediocre" in general, but "mediocre" in comparison to everything else I have ever written and published on this site... to which I am not sure if that comparison is better or worse.

Still, this guy lit a fire under my ass, because the one word I hate the most, is "mediocrity".

The story, she shall prosper, but alas, the light-heartedness, she may suffer.


Disclaimer: I do not own High School DxD, because if I did, the main star of the series would be the blonde effeminate Dhampire that stops time.


It was hard and painful.

When one heard those five words uttered, vast and lacking any context, a numerous amounts of interpretations could be derived from them. Some would attribute it to a description of a blunt object striking the epidermal layer and causing damage, others would cough awkwardly as they used it to describe listening to a young infant's horrific attempt at playing an instrument, or it could even be seen as a blushing maiden's way of describing her first experience.

To Hyoudou Issei however, it meant that he had found himself in situation that made him unable to swallow nor to stare at his own reflection in the mirror before seeing a word appear on his forehead, stamped, glowing, in all its Times New Roman glory:

Idiot.

He turned on the faucet, enjoying a rush of hot water which he supposed was one of the few benefits of a deluxe five star hotel, and he scooped the water and splashed it over his face numerous times, running his hands down from his forehead to his chin, before he glanced up once more to the mirror to see if the word had changed.

It had.

Big Idiot.

Though, not necessarily for the better.

He sighed, taking in a deep, fulfilling breath of air, before closing his eyes.

Just like that, he was no longer in the extra-large spacious bathroom of the ludicrously extravagant hotel room he had booked. Instead, he stood once more on the vast open streets of London, his eyes watching, fixed, as the form of a blonde-haired girl approached him, and he stared at the brief interactions that followed.

He tilted his fingers, and the scene rushed by as though someone had commanded time to fast-forward, and he followed, watching as the blonde girl chased after him, a laughing mess. He paid close attention to the details, to the locations, his eyes immediately glancing towards the police officers in their bright green vests, towards the white patrol cars, towards the other people on the street and road.

All of them had moved on, as though the laughing girl did not exist.

She bumped into someone, and the figure had looked startled, collapsing on the ground and looking left and right, yet his gaze had never once landed on the blonde haired girl.

Issei exhaled, emptying his breath as he once more stood in the bathroom, staring at the steam that slowly wafted off the hot water that was pouring on the faucet. He shook his head, leaving the bathroom as he entered into the spacious, air-conditioned master bedroom. The paid no heed to the paintings strung on the walls nor to the soft and lush rug that cushioned his bare feet as he walked, instead, he headed straight for his mobile phone placed on the king-sized bed.

"Kiki."

"Yes Issei-sama?"

"I'm an idiot."

"…."

"Really? Nothing to say? No words of encouragement or firm denials?"

"I can't argue with the truth Issei-sama."

"Cheeky little – you know, I have half a mind to revert your character programming back to the willing-servant type."

"You hated that character program."

He hummed. "True. Subservience is good and all once in a while, but too much of it is just… grating."

Issei sighed as he leapt back on the bed, closing his eyes. The compounding events of the day slowly played, from the very beginning, to the utmost end, with him booking a hotel room and deciding to call it a rest for now.

"Why do you believe you're an idiot Issei-sama?"

"Hm?" Issei opened his eyes.

"You're one of the smartest men in the world, if not the smartest. If you're an idiot, what does that make everyone else?"

Issei shook his head. "You know, one of the things I told myself when I was little, was that I wouldn't become arrogant, or cocky, or overconfident or act like a know-it-all. I mean, every single depiction of 'geniuses' from movies to books to videogames has them as cocky, rude assholes, and gives the excuse that because they're smart, they're allowed or expected to be mean."

He rubbed his face.

"I mean, do you ever hear of any nice geniuses? 'Hey, this guy has a noble prize in literature – and he also does some awesome party tricks!' No. Instead, we have the mean, blunt types that are fun to watch and see… but let's be honest, ordinary people wouldn't be capable of hanging around Sherlock Holmes without decking him in the face a couple of times."

His rubbing of the face became more aggravated.

"They all have the same ridiculous hubris – pride. Overconfidence. Cockiness. It's always the one thing capable of taking them down because somehow, despite being smart, they're not smart enough to realize that being overconfident and cocky is very, very dumb."

"Ah – I see where you're going Issei-sama."

Issei chuckled. "So, despite knowing all this, despite telling myself I wouldn't be that stupid… what exactly did I do today? Oh yeah, I discovered that God is real, in a matter of five minutes simply by having you peruse through government websites. I underestimated a witch, and believed that I was the one in control whereas she was humoring me the entire time."

"To be fair Issei-sama, you couldn't have known about the supernatural existing –"

"I could!" he stressed "I could have discovered it any time! I have you Kiki, and you can hack into anything! When I first created you, I should have had you hack all the systems of the governments of the world –"

"Why would you do that?"

"Why wouldn't I do that?"

"Because the information is dangerous Issei-sama! With that information, you could find out secrets and deals, remove or blackmail world leaders, impeach monarchs, cause global wide-scale wars! You would be painting a large target on your back for everyone in the world to see, and it would get you killed!"

Slow wafting silence drifted.

"They wouldn't be capable of killing me if I –"

"You don't make weapons Issei-sama."

"I'm just saying –"

"You promised your mother Issei-sama."

"With gods possibly being real –"

"You. Don't. Make. Weapons."

He raised his hands into the air silently.

"Alright. Alright. I know I don't make weapons, but I don't need to. Everything can be used as a weapon in hindsight – a microwave, a stove, an oven, a television set, a stuffed doll, a baby, a fisticuff made of Legos –"

"What did you say Issei-sama?"

"Oh, yeah, a fisticuff made of Legos still counts as me making weapons –"

"No, before that."

"… A stuffed doll?"

There was a genuine sigh emanating from the iPhone.

"Goodnight Issei-sama."

Issei chuckled, placing his hands at the back of his head slowly. "Goodnight Kiki."

"And, for what it's worth Issei-sama, making wrong decisions or oversights once in a while doesn't mean you're an idiot," Kiki said, "It means that you're only human."

Issei couldn't stop the small pinpricks of a smile that formed at the corner of his lips, one which grew even as lyrics of a song began to play from the device.

"Thanks Kiki."

"Any time Issei-sama."

Issei allowed his eyes to close, his mind coming to a slow drawl as the song echoed in his mind.

But I'm only human, after all…

I'm only human, after all…

Don't put your blame on me…

Don't put your blame on me…


London

Elsewhere

He could not possibly be human.

"I truly do not wish you any harm. However, your continued resistance is quite tiring."

Tired, exhausted pants and labored gasps for air echoed heavily amidst the otherwise serene night. Her palms were bruised even as she gripped the sword in her hand even harder, with the blade struck into the ground, she rested her entire body weight on it, as it was the only thing that was capable of letting her stand.

Her knees were soft strands of noodles as they shook, her arms were anchors and her lungs burned, it burned with a blazing fire that was almost indescribable.

Needless to say, Irina Shidou was not having a good time.

The man in front of her looked immaculate, with his circular glasses and his framed form, his polished suit and his attire glistering without a single blemish, a single fold or rumple, as though he had gone out for a fancy ball and had a legion of invisible butlers constantly ironing and polishing his outfit.

In comparison, she looked like a woman who had gone for a swim fully clothed, partially drowned, only to immediately stumble through an alleyway and was assaulted by a legion of stray cats… while drunk.

"Kindly hand over Excalibur Mimic, I would like to put this night behind us and carry on with my business."

Irina couldn't help but scowl at him. This – this was insane. She knew, that this man had the blood of the King Arthur flowing through his veins, and therefore, he would be a highly competent swordsman, but to have defeated her so soundly, so easily

She stared at his hands, his empty, hands, and a spurt of burning anger, like a geyser, flooded through her.

He hadn't even drawn his sword!

He was soundly defeating her, a trained swordswoman, with his bare hands, by dodging, weaving, and redirecting her own strikes so she cut herself.

She. Kept. Cutting. Herself!

Every. Damn. Time!

This was aggravating, because she was not a push-over! There were seven billion people in the world, and out of which, she was the one chosen and given the Excalibur Mimic. She, was the one tasked with protecting an ancient and holy relic that was once part of the legendary sword held by arguably, the greatest King in British History. She, Irina Shidou, was a genius exorcist of the Church, and a skilled warrior who ranked just slightly below the likes of Griselda Quarta, Dulio Gesualdo and Vasco Strada.

She wasn't given Excalibur Mimic out of nepotism!

It was skill!

Pure! Unbridled! Skill!

Yet, despite the fact that she was amongst the list of top twenty exorcists in the world

She couldn't even graze the man that was in front of her.

"It is not your fault."

The words snapped her back to reality, her eyes going wide once she felt the hand on her shoulder, a gesture which was supposed to be an attempt at comforting her, but instead, absolutely terrified her as she had not even seen the man move, and as such, could only stagger backwards in utmost fright.

"You are an exorcist first and foremost, and a swordswoman second. The enemies you face are devils or creatures with a dark inclination, as such, you possess an array of defeating them using either the holy sword in your possession or various tools of exorcism."

He walked forward, his form and posture as calm as ever.

"However, against an opponent who is neither ghost, nor devil nor demon nor poltergeist, your exorcism gear and abilities become ineffective, and as such, your combat ability is halved."

She shuddered at the matter-of-fact manner in which he gave his observation.

"I do not mean to sound overly condescending, but your chances of defeating me at full combat effectiveness was ludicrously slim to begin with. But at half?"

He smiled.

"Nonexistent."

She grit her teeth, ignoring the pain that shot through. "You won't get away with this – once the Church finds out you're stealing the Excaliburs –"

"You cannot steal what rightfully belongs to you." He said, easily, before shaking his head. "But no matter. The Church will not quite be finding out. Not just yet."

She wanted to ask what he meant, only for her entire body to freeze up, as it dawned on her that she could not move. The feeling was as though dozens of constrictors had ensnared her, and was ensuring that it was impossible for her to make even the most miniscule of actions.

That was when she noticed the blade in his hand, a sword with a long enough grip to make it appear two-handed, and possessing a round pommel. There was a gold colored cross-guard that curved, and the entire blade hummed and sung with so much power that you would have to be blind not to see it.

Her breath hitched in her throat at the recognition of the weapon.

The most powerful Excalibur – the sword which granted the wielder the ability to control all things that they wished, to manipulate anything, be it matter, energy, mana, chakra, or even space and time.

The Holy Sword of Subjugation –

Excalibur Ruler.

"Now…" he smiled.

"Forget."


Trepidation.

This was an emotion that Issei believed he had long since discarded. For what reason would he ever feel trepidation? He had stared down upon the bloody form of men on operating tables, his face a blank and bored façade even as his white gloves were stained red, and he paid no heed to the intricate nature of beating organs. He had stood on top of great waterfalls and listened to the roaring of the liquids as they threatened to consume him, and he had flipped nature the bird as he leapt forward, a bottle of cold Pepsi in hand.

Wealth provided opportunities. Opportunities in turn, provided rushes of danger and adrenaline that could not quite be compared to a normal lifestyle. As such, he had experienced and seen far too much to actually feel the familiar sensation of cold hands, of heated face, and of his heart pounding and pounding as the audibility blocked out all other noises, save for that of saliva welling in his mouth as he swallowed it in full, heavy gulps.

His rational mind told him that there was no reason for the numerous, tiny, but heavily aggravating responses in his physiology which contributed to the general feeling of uncertainty and trepidation. However, his body, and strangely enough, his own instincts, heavily disagreed.

"We've reached the Shidou Residence Issei-sama –"

"I know Kiki."

"… You have been sitting inside the car for the past two hours Issei-sama."

His lips twisted uncomfortably. Despite the tinted windows, he could make out Irina's house, just across the street from where his vehicle was parked, a comfortable looking place that was neither too extravagant nor too parsimonious. It seemed like the type of place that Irina would live, the type of place she would enjoy.

Still, he was glued to the chair.

"My initial scan are picking up elevated heart rates, increased perspiration and blood pressure… are… are you nervous Issei-sama?"

"Yes." He said, not even pausing as he admitted the truth. "I just… just give me a minute."

Taking a deep breath of air, he steeled his nerves, before craning his neck. He stepped out of the car, adjusting his rumpled clothes as he slipped his stolen iPhone into his pocket, and began a leisurely walk towards the door. His own pace, gait, and posture struck a chord within him.

"This is ridiculous – I'm just going to meet a friend – a childhood friend who I haven't seen in years, I'm not walking to my own funeral. Why in the world am I acting this way?"

"Issei-sama?"

"Jesus Christ Kiki, I can feel my blood rushing through my veins and my palms look and feel like I dipped them in ice water. Why in the world is my heart even beating so hard? I know how it feels like when adrenaline is pumping through my system when I'm in danger, and this is not that feeling!"

He grit his teeth as Kiki stayed silent.

"I mean sure, we haven't seen each other in years, and sure, it's kind of weird to travel half-way across the world just to meet a childhood friend that, as mentioned earlier, you haven't seen in years – but I'm rich, and if I had the money, why wouldn't I do it? Rich people do stupidly crazy things all the time – not that I would ever demean myself to be considered amongst the likes of the individuals who squander their wealth on trivialities –"

"…Issei –"

"I blame ka-chan for this. What was I thinking? I mean, the entire concept of travelling half-way around the world to meet someone and hook-up? That woman will be the death of me, I swear it! And now, I have to do this ridiculous thing of meeting Irina… wait, I don't really need to meet her, do I? Oh wait, I do – ka-chan will ask and I can't lie to her – damn it."

"Issei-sama… could it be that you actually like Irina?"

Issei froze. "What? NO – that I actually, somehow, someway possess some sort of affection, for a childhood friend? That's preposterous! I mean, just because my body generates ludicrous amounts of dopamine, oxytocin and serotonin whenever I think about her or hear her name doesn't mean that I somehow –"

"Issei-sama."

He stopped.

Issei took in a deep breath, before placing his hand over his face. "Yes. Yes I do. As outwardly pathetic as it sounds, I have been harboring unresolved feelings for Irina since I was a child. There, happy?"

"I don't think it's pathetic Issei-sama. I think it's sweet."

Issei's groaned into his hands. "It is pathetic. Beyond pathetic. What I have is an infatuation with the idea of Irina, a friend and companion from long ago with somewhat similar interests. The Irina Shidou I'll meet will be that person, but at the same time, she won't."

"You don't know that Issei-sama."

He shook his head. "No, I don't. And that's what terrifies me."

He stood in front of the door for a few more seconds, calming his nerves slowly, certainly, before gathering them and forcing his finger to push against the doorbell.

"Coming!"

He fought the urge slowly within him to dash for the nearest hiding spot, even as he heard the clamor of footsteps that rapidly followed, and the agonizing sound of several locks clicking open.

"About time my order got here, I've been waiting… all... day…"

Perhaps the first thing he noticed, was the sweet smell of mint that wafted into his nose from her. The aroma almost took a corporeal form, dancing and swaying like a swami would command a snake, until it coiled and shot through his nostrils in abundance. The next, he noted, was how her hair was let down into smooth, full strands, strands which complemented her face, which complemented her eyes

For a full several seconds, Hyoudou Issei forgot to breath.

"…you're not the delivery guy."

Her words immediately snapped him back to reality.

"H-hey – Irina. Long time no see… you look… well."

There was a slow stretching silence in which Issei realized that all of his compounded knowledge on everything related to and of human interaction, psychology and sociology, had somehow been emptied from his brain.

"Um…"

He took some solace in the fact that she seemed just as flabbergasted as he was, and that would mean, at the very least, that she too had not expected his sudden arrival, and was also at a loss for words on how they would start catching up on so much lost time –

"I'm sorry, but, do I know you?"

Just like that, his delusions shattered.


The young teen in front of her looked to be her age, Irina noted, and as far as she could tell, he was an ordinary civilian. He had the strangest coffee-tinted eyes, and the weirdest of hairstyles, a mangled mess of a mop. His form was lithe, not lean or slender, nor was it heavy, but it looked as though his body had absorbed the exact amount of nutrients and done the exact amount of exercise necessary to fall into a category that could not be considered heavily athletic, nor could it be considered subpar.

His clothes were of a standard that she had only seen worn by movie stars or celebrities in magazines, the hoodie and shoes possessing brand names that cost more than some people's salaries put together. Well, so he was a wealthy civilian by the make of his clothes, but she couldn't quite place who he was or why he was here.

"You're joking – right?"

She frowned at his expression, and even more so at his tone.

"My sense of humor isn't broken, so I think I know when I'm joking or not."

The boy seemed to stare at her, and his eyebrows crinkled in a manner of annoyance. "It's me. Issei. Hyoudou, Issei."

Japanese? The name brought her some surprise, because it had been years since she had met anyone with a Japanese name other than herself and her father. Ever since they had left Japan, she had grown accustomed to the curious looks whenever someone heard her last name, and the accompanying comments that followed:

"[You don't look Japanese.]" she had said in the barest of broken Japanese she could muster.

"[Neither do you.]" He had replied just as quickly, in smooth and elegant Japanese, though, she noted there as an annoyed tone there, one she wasn't quite understanding the root of.

"Well, I'm sorry Hisei –"

"It's Issei." He hissed, causing her to narrow her eyebrows.

"Well sorry for not correctly getting the name of the stranger at my door."

"Stranger?" he sounded baffled "It's me! Hyoudou Issei!"

She slowly rubbed the side of her chin. "You're not exactly ringing any bells."

He gaped, strangely, as though the idea of her not remembering him was impossible. "I lived at No. 45 Hajime Street in Kyoto! You were my next door neighbor! We went to the same school!"

She scratched her head and laughed awkwardly. "My dad and I moved a lot when I was younger. I'm sorry, but I was like… six or seven when I left Japan – I don't really remember much of it – I'm clumsy eating with chopsticks, I don't know how to write Kanji anymore and you just heard how bad my Japanese is."

The boy's shoulders seemed to slump. "So you don't… remember me?"

She grimaced slightly. "Was I… supposed to?"

He shook his head, letting out a dry laugh. "No… I suppose not."

There was an awkward silence which permeated the air as she rubbed her shoulder, a sudden realization striking her.

"Did you… travel all the way from Japan… just to come and see me?"

"Yes."

The admission caught her off guard and didn't do anything to lighten the awkward air that had risen.

"Oh… I'm… sorry –"

He waved her off. "For what? It's not your fault – you, someone who had furthered onwards to newer chapters of your life? I can't blame you. This is mostly my fault – my mistake, my oversight. Delusions of grandeur mixed with childish optimism and far too much faith placed in anime about childhood friendships somehow transcending tests of time to become something else –"

He let out another dry laugh and smacked his face. "What was I thinking? This isn't an anime where children make pinky promises to marry each other when they are little, and somehow retain those memories throughout their years without discarding it to the side as the trivialities of naivety and innocence. Real people grow, they forget things, and they change –"

He took in a deep breath, stopping his rant.

"I apologize for what has probably been a very awkward encounter. I will take my leave now, and I wish you best of luck in future endeavors."

She watched him turn around and leave, a strange nagging feeling in the back of her mind that she couldn't quite place. He was different from most sixteen year olds, and she could tell this because she was different from most sixteen year olds as well.

She killed devils for god's sake. Literally.

She was an exorcist and agent of the Church, someone who went up against ghouls and poltergeists that would make the most terrifying horror movies look like the fricking Mickey Mouse Clubhouse in comparison. Her blade and hands were stained with blood, sometimes it was the blood of the creatures of the nights, and other times, it was the blood of men and women foolish enough to incite or summon said creatures of the night.

Normalcy was a term that did not quite fit into Irina Shidou's vocabulary, and, quite frankly, she could tell at first sight that despite how completely… civilian, the boy in front of her looked, there was something… abnormal about him.

Could it be coincidence that a supposed childhood friend of hers had shown up just when the Excalibur Fragments went missing? When her Excalibur Mimic had simply vanished into the night? Just about the same time that people were having panic attacks and aneurysms over whether or not Harry Potter was a terrorist?

She shook her head. She was probably overthinking things. This was just a boy who had travelled all the way across the world to meet a childhood friend, not some sort of terrorist. Still, he was a civilian. She knew the rules, and her father had told her the rules as well. It was best not to befriend civilians or be involved with them in any prolonged way, because it would ultimately lead to you having no choice but to either constantly lie to their faces, constantly modify their memories, or ultimately tell them about the existence of the supernatural.

The latter of course, was always a risk. Some of them would try to expose it globally, and others would either live forever in abject denial, or become maniacal devoted worshippers. A few would be tempted to try Faustian like deals with devils, and the rest, would live in fear as to the reality of the burning lake of fire that awaited them, should their lives not conform to the religion.

"Hey – wait… Issei, right?"

He had stopped. "Yes?"

She took in a deep breath. "I think it's flattering, that you still remember me – and that you flew all this way to meet me. I guess I was someone… special to you."

"Yeah. You were."

She winced slightly. "I am sorry, that I don't remember you, but… I think it's for the best. I'm not the same person I was… when I was younger."

Before she'd killed people. Killed devils. Exorcised demons. Seen eldritch abominations.

Issei simply laughed. "Who is?"


Issei sat back into the BMW with a sigh.

"To the airport Kiki. Call for my private jet please, I don't feel like entering a commercial flight."

"Are you… alright Issei-sama?"

"Do I sound not alright to you Kiki?"

"You told me please. You never tell me please."

His eye twitched. "Way to make me sound like an asshole Kiki."

"Between you and Irina –"

"Interesting conversation wasn't it? Did not go at all like anything I expected. A complete and utter waste of my time this entire trip has been. Well, except of course for the whole 'god is real' thing –"

"You didn't ask Irina about the Church, or about God or Angels."

"Because she didn't remember me. If I started asking questions when she couldn't even be sure who I was, she would either think me a spy or an enemy."

The silence continued, stretching on into a thick, syrupy thing.

"Damn, this is depressing. I don't need any erstwhile drama in my life, what I need right now is some fun and mindless chaos. Kiki, plot a course for Buckingham Palace! I think the Queen might remember me when I bring up her Excalibur shaped pleasing tool."

"Issei-sama, what about your goal of finding more about the supernatural and destroying heaven and hell?"

"Who says I can't do both?" he said with a grin, "Today, we mortify the Queen, tomorrow, we mortify God!"

"How do you mortify God?"

"That, Kiki, is a very good question."