Phase 1 – Gula

Chapter 3 - Apparition


There was an old story, completely unknown to the masses and inconsequential in the same manner to them. An isolated event in a world of many, result of misfortunate coincidence. Or maybe already predetermined by fate itself as a twisted chain of bad events to prove the inevitability of adversity, the tininess of man in the grand scheme of things.

It was a dark undertone in the life of its characters, an insignificant explanation to the ways of life of beings that could hardly be called human any longer. Insignificant, because explaining couldn't overturn the misdeeds committed, or change the horrible results that came along as a matter of course.

This story, an echo from the past, was nothing else but the makings of a monster.

Yet, now forgotten and with no way to acknowledge its existence, the story was relegated to a simple childhood memory. A memory belonging to the main actor. A memory he could only relive as he slept, uncaring and unknowing of his fate.

There were blurry lapses; certain times where everything was confusing and he couldn't remember correctly what was happening. Admittedly, it wasn't something he wished to remember.

Every minuscule part of his being worked in unison to shut down the memory deep in his mind. Absolutely erasing it was futile.

Everything before him was nebulous and washed down. It wasn't much different from watching an old movie in black and white. His refusal to acknowledge the event weakened the unimportant details like the colors and sounds. Only impactful elements remained. Albeit it clearly wasn't a prerecorded tape, he was forced to follow a linear script. It was him, enacting his very own character, but without a will of his own.

It happened many years ago, when smiling was a regular occurrence and life was something to be enjoyed.

It was unnatural, disgusting, perverse, and violent. His childish self couldn't keep up with it. Losing his innocence shook him to the very core, to the point where he still couldn't understand why everything happened the way it did.

He wanted to avert his gaze, to close his eyes, to remain ignorant. However, nice things were better reserved for nicer people, and he had no such luxury.

He was just a kid when he met the Beast.

He unwillingly moved towards blurs and opened his mouth to speak about joyful matters, smiling at glazed calamities. Soon enough he met a horrible existence, whom he only could see as a monster wearing human flesh, just like him.

It was a beautiful kind of monster, however. The Beast had long, gorgeous golden hair swaying with wild yet delicate moves. Its eyes were sky-blue, and they stared at the world with loathing. They also stared at him dangerously, with hunger and warped ideas of fun. It was a gaze of obsession, twisted obsession.

He was attracted to its smile. It was the most bewitching smile he had ever seen in his life. However, he quickly began to understand that the Beast's reasons to smile were far from good. The Beast smiled before playing a new game with him. The Beast smiled before subjecting him to a new day of suffering.

He still remembered it clearly, the Beast's favorite question.

Whenever the Beast smiled, it asked-

Does it hurt, Ayame?

Does it hurt, Ayame?

Does it hurt, Ayame'

Does it hurt, Ayame?

Does it hurt, Ayame?

Does it hurt, Ayame?

Does it hurt, Ayame?

.

.

.

-And then, his bones would shatter one by one, and his flesh would be torn apart.

.

.

.

Ayame suddenly leaped from his bed. A desperate gasp got stuck in his throat. He instinctively placed a hand over his chest, trying to make sure there wasn't a gaping hole through it.

He pushed and pushed, and his hand only met skin and bone. Then he understood he was still alive.

Such thought didn't make him too happy anyway.

He attempted to control his breathing, slowing his heartbeats bit by bit. The hot oxygen travelling inside his lungs, forcing its way out through every exhalation, brought him back to the real world. He understood the dark sceneries he witnessed in his dreams were just that – dreams.

They were unreal, illusionary, and he was already awake.

"Hmph… a nightmare?" he murmured while covering his face with a hand. "It's a bit too late to have sleepless nights now, of all times…Although I don't mind."

He believed his mind to be a metal box of sorts. He simply didn't care about anything enough to dream about it.

Yet, that seemed to be wrong. After years of dreaming about nothing, he had an actual nightmare. He was satisfied knowing he was changing, in some way, even if he didn't know the reasons.

Change… it almost sounded unreal. Not long ago he was grieving over the fact that, maybe, he would never change.

And worst of all? He blindly contributed to that which he hated.

There was a reason for why he began feeling like garbage. However, said reason had long diluted under the hubris of his inaction, his constant mopping, and the pessimism. At this point, was there even a concrete reason? An accident that triggered all of this? A turning point?

No, of course there wasn't. He couldn't even remember if there had ever been something. Remembering might have not done much, apart from rubbing salt on the wound, shine a light on the fact he could've turned over a new leaf if he so wished. But he didn't. He was too comfortable being blue, scraping deep at the bottom of the barrel.

Some people were saints, excellent human beings. Others were the worst of the worst, scum, only deserving the cruelest treatments. And somehow, despite being on opposite extremes, these archetypes had one thing in common.

Both were moving in a direction. It could be either forward or backwards. But they were moving at the end of the day. They were recognizable by their actions, defined by their morality, shaped through the results of their choices.

Ayame wasn't moving.

He was… there. One face amongst many in the world. Even then, he was particularly forgettable. There was nothing. He had nothing. He was nothing. Nothing defined him and his insignificance was only paralleled by his stubbornness to change for the better.

He was and then he wasn't. At some point, if he kept doing nothing, he would definitely cease to be.

He would die, had he failed to change.

He would either kill himself, or someone else would do the honors. Ayame would perish for being unable to move forward.

But, not all was bleak.

He had a nightmare, meaning something stirred him up deep inside. He was able to feel pain, meaning he could feel other things if he tried and sought them hard enough.

There was a possibility of living like a normal person. Ayame just needed to regain those human characteristics, bring them out until he wasn't forced to do it consciously. Until his feelings outweighed the void that ate away at him.

But, to achieve that kind of thing, he needed to take the initiative. Sitting on his ass and expecting for a miracle to happen wasn't going to do him any favors.

For that end, he was skipping school today. The brunet was aware that his current lifestyle was detrimental for him in every way. Infinitely more if he weighted the dangers of the supernatural too. He needed to act soon and avoid another gruesome death.

Ayame escaped from his unsightly mess of a bed. He stood up, let out a voiced yawn, and then stretched his tall body until it hurt to do so.

Since he was staying in today, he wanted to reduce the number of distractions his own room could provide.

This meant Ayame actually went through the effort of tidying up and cleaning his room. The clothes haphazardly thrown across the floor were taken, folded and stored in the closet. His disordered bed was neatly made. The dust on the furniture and some corners of the room were cleaned away once he got ahold of a broom and a dustpan.

He opened the curtains of his balcony. Beautiful morning sunlight invited itself in the teenager's obscured lair, illuminating a clean room. Ayame's tired eyes protested as they were hit with brightness. But his mind felt satisfied one he gazed upon the result of his cleaning task.

His personal living space was completely cleared and organized. With that out of the way, he finally would be able to concentrate on that which was more important than school: getting stronger.

In the context of a conflict between supernatural beings, Ayame Hyoudou was tiny existence. He was a weak human and had the weaknesses of any other human. Those were weaknesses he couldn't exploit from his far stronger opponents in the future. He wouldn't be able to defeat Yuuma Amano with his current level of strength or strategy.

He rested a few days. He digested the situation. Now, he needed to do something if he wanted to involve himself seriously.

He wasn't able to use magic, which was already a terrible disadvantage when considering what his enemies were. However, he could make up for it by training his body and being crafty around the problem. He needed to become physically stronger first of all Then, he could come up with a way to defeat Yuuma effectively.

The most offending disability was his Sacred Gear. Supposedly, he had one. Yuuma targeted him and his brother for a reason. Rias entertained the possibility of him having one, too. However, the method most accessible to him had failed to bear positive results.

This situation would've much easier to deal with if he had powers. The one thing he could do was start from the very bottom, and claw his way up.

For now, he would focus on strengthening himself. He couldn't waste time trying to reach with his 'feelings' and 'summon an ancient weapon'.

"Push-ups, squats, and sit ups… I suppose it's the easiest to do for a beginner. I will do more exercises when I become fitter."

He placed himself face-down. His open hands were positioned alongside his body, flat on the ground.

Without further ado, he pushed himself upwards and began counting the number of repetitions; one, two, three… surely enough he counted ten push-ups after a number of seconds.

Ayame was a stranger to physical training. This and many other things stemmed from his permanent inaction.

He was a scrawny, skinny teenager who could be broken like a twig if someone strong enough wanted to do so. His body mass left a lot to be desired too - he ate too little. He had zero drive, and that translated into an unhealthy routine.

In summary, Ayame was pretty weak. At most he was never able to do more than twenty push-ups until his noodle arms gave up. It was embarrassing and he was sure people his age were supposed to perform better. Inexplicably enough, Issei was far more athletic than Ayame - the perverted imbecile had won many school competitions when he was younger, ranging from long sprints to endurance runs with ease. He was sure his sibling still had a good degree of physical prowess, unlike him.

Then again, Issei was always running away from angry women. He had to be physically fit or he risked being lynched by the girls at school. Between bettering his stamina and developing strong morals, it was clear which one was easier.

Push-ups seemed like an easy business from afar. But building strength in this specific way was very, very complicated. The exercise not only worked the arms, but many other muscles from the upper body. Ten push-ups was beginning to be a lot for someone who didn't work out at all; tensing and using so many muscles was taxing for the untrained body.

Ayame was a tall person, and he was underweight. Training seriously from the get-go was just absurd. He didn't have enough meat on his bones. He didn't have a good diet. He didn't have discipline or a previous regime to take reference from. So the whole shtick was doomed to fail pretty quickly.

However, this wasn't an excuse to explain a failure that never came to be.

Ayame had already passed the count of twenty push-ups.

The brunet blinked a few times. He stared at his arms. They were completely still, firm, when they should have been trembling from the effort at the very least.

He still wasn't particularly tired. It was obvious he was putting effort, but his tiredness hadn't quite grown past his abilities.

Ayame shook his head and continued. At some point he passed the thirty push-ups mark. Small trickles of cold sweat started to form on his forehead and cheeks. A soft creaking could be heard from the joints in his arms. Flexing them after not doing so for a long time was unstiffening them, probably.

He managed to do sixty push-ups, and that's when things became slightly worrisome. Ayame was sure he simply wasn't able to do so much with no prior training, and it became obvious moments later.

There some inconsistencies in his breathing, a clear sign he was approaching the actual brink of his body's performance. His gasps became labored, with short pauses between each inhalation. Somehow he pushed himself, pushed harder against the floor in an attempt to do more.

His left arm was cramping up. The veins swelled with hot blood and the touch of his bones against the flesh was almost painful. His heart wasn't doing much better, beating so forcefully it pushed against his sternum. Sweat fell from his forehead, passed by his eyebrows and sometimes got inside his eyes. He didn't stop in spite of his discomfort.

The brunet stopped at some point. He gathered his thoughts for a bit.

He did ninety-seven push-ups.

It was a lot of work for a weak person like him with barely any training. It was a surprise he was able to do so much physical effort too.

Ayame was tired enough to stop and take a breather.

However, he failed to get up and silently celebrate his success.

The teenager shakily lifted himself from the floor. He blinked, swallowing saliva and air in an attempt to gather more oxygen. His fingertips felt numb against the floor. Trying to get up was hard for his exhausted arms. As soon as Ayame understood he couldn't even get up, he knew something was wrong.

He couldn't move. He couldn't feel his left arm anymore. Every slowing pulsation of his heart felt like someone was smashing a brick against his back. His entire body, and particularly, his chest, was budging down towards the ground. He felt far too heavy. Gravity suddenly was his enemy and it wanted to drag him flat on the floor with all of its might.

Then, his body felt cold. At first he just believed he was out of breath, a totally normal reaction after an taxing exercise. Yet, it was much worse. There was a scary lack of heat, a lack of movement inside. The all too familiar pulse of his heartbeat was strong, slow. It increased in intensity and decreased in speed. From a second to another he was feeling the course of his blood through his arteries, feeling it in excruciating detail, until he didn't any longer.

Ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum-

-And then, absolutely nothing.

His heart stopped moving - it wasn't pumping blood at all.

"Ah…"

He tried to breathe as hard as he could. No oxygen that entered his nostrils actually circulated inside his body. His lung began to compress and tighten due to the lack of air. He arched his back, groaning, trying to stretch his body that seemed to crumple against his will. Ayame choked and trembled. His insides suddenly felt too tight, like they were trying to compress into themselves. He tried to move, to get up and do something, but he found he was stuck in place.

His left arm was not responding. It was paralyzed, frozen in a flexed position. Ayame tugged and pulled but it stayed there. Any strength he had in his legs disappeared from the shock, essentially locking him in that position. The brunet groaned guttural sounds, unable to raise his voice from the lack of air. Any attempt to ask for his family's help would be useless. They were all sleeping at this hour. He couldn't move. He couldn't scream. He couldn't do anything.

The seconds became longer and longer. He was getting slower, and the world was moving ahead of him. His perception of time deteriorated with the advent of death. He couldn't escape from it no matter how much he forced himself to.

Before, the brunet may have accepted the natural end of his life with open arms. He didn't have much to live for anyway. However, that had changed, and he couldn't die now. He couldn't die. He couldn't die. He couldn't die.

He wouldn't die. There were things he needed to do - things he needed to accomplish.

The brunet raised his right arm.

After winding up a bit, clenching his fist as hard as he could, he punched his chest. It pushed all of the remaining air he had out.

The lack of support from his other arm and the strength of the blow ended up throwing him off balance. He finally fell down.

Ayame coughed violently. A metallic, liquid taste invaded his tongue. As he kept hacking, he desperately scratched his chest. Maybe he would be able to tear away the skin, break the bones, and pump his heart manually. But he couldn't do that.

At some point he lost strength and went mostly limp, too weak to do anything else.

He remained there, immobile and moribund. It didn't take much longer before he heard a wheezing coming from his mouth, a fact that brought some tranquility in the tense moment.

He was breathing again.

He coughed a few more times. Something warm stained his cheek with trickles. Ayame touched his lips experimentally, to see what kind of liquid it was. When he raised his fingers up where the sunlight hit, he saw fresh blood.

The young man sighed and set his hand down, deciding to lie on the floor instead of getting up. It was still early in the morning. Ayame was sure neither Issei nor his parents would enter inside his room and disturb his privacy without a good reason, see him in such a frail state. He wanted to curse the obnoxious failure that was his own body as much as he wanted to unravel the dark secrets it hid from him.

"…Pathetic," he harshly muttered to himself in a low voice. "If I die because of a small workout, then I won't stand a chance against that woman. This won't do…"

Despite being fairly ignorant about his current situation, he was no fool. He was aware of his abnormal body.

Ayame previously assumed he was revived in some way. But he didn't just die.

Someone, something, had given him a new arm, and a new heart. Virtually everyone relevant acknowledged he died. And if he died, it was within reason to think he should've lost those parts of his body along his life. Yet he didn't. His left arm moved and his heart pumped blood, but they weren't his. And they weren't normal. They didn't even feel like his body parts, and he in turn rejected them.

It was like someone had transplanted body parts that weren't his own in him.

He had no idea how it happened or why. But the most obvious conclusion was that his body wasn't normal anymore, Sacred Gear or not.

…Pushing assumptions aside, this was an interesting piece of experience.

Ayame was stronger, more resilient - he felt he could naturally do more than when he was still just a lazy teenager. However, overexerting himself would endanger his life. He couldn't understand why.

He just needed to exercise caution. And definitely exercise more, because things like these probably wouldn't have happened if he actually gave a damn about his fitness beforehand.

The brunet turned around, face-up. He needed to continue his training.

Yuuma Amano was a being too powerful for a normal human to handle. If Ayame couldn't strain himself to fulfill an action that marked the difference between life and death, then he might as well have had considered himself a walking corpse marching towards his end.

He had to become stronger. He had to train until he felt like dying, and then train even harder. He couldn't allow his exercises to become too easy, to become part of yet another routine he couldn't escape from, as that would ultimately kill him. Ayame couldn't allow himself to be static when the person he wanted to defeat was already infinitely more dangerous than the strongest of humans.

Ayame swallowed the blood he coughed just moments ago, and continued.


- ~DxD~ -

Up to the point where he stopped exercising and coughing up blood, it seemed like he wouldn't make it. Ayame still pushed himself and managed to complete his exercises as best as he could. The lingering soreness in his muscles was proof he made the necessary effort to make it worth it.

After facing some reluctance from his parents and a bit of complaining from Issei, he was allowed to skip school for the day. He didn't feel like dividing his attention when other matters were more important, and studying was boring. He could make better use of his time now.

The teenager took a shower and made himself lunch.

Ayame wasn't a stranger to cooking. He didn't excel at it, but it was just enough to make something tasty and filling.

This time, however, the food had a strangely weak flavor, as if it was tasteless substance instead. He quickly attributed it to the fact he didn't bother to practice in a long time. Besides, the taste of blood still lingered in his mouth. Eating wasn't going to be all that enjoyable anyway.

He waited a few hours. It would have been easier to laze around his house and sleep to recover energy, but that was the worst out of two options. Simply staying at home wouldn't quite help him this time.

His current objective was murdering a monster. Murder in itself was already too complicated a task. Yuuma Amano as the target just set up the bar higher, stole away his chances of succeeding. It wasn't a question about being discrete - he just had to create the perfect situation and be strong enough to take advantage of it. Both of those were impossible right now.

Ayame had to discover where Yuuma was hiding, first and foremost. Then, he needed a specific date when he knew she would definitely be there and the conditions favored him. Finally, and not less importantly, he had to come up with a backup plan to escape or maneuver his way around victory, had he failed to defeat Yuuma or she turned out to have allies he couldn't defeat on his own.

…The thought of fighting many fallen angels at the same time seemed entertaining for a moment. He quickly pushed it away, knowing he'd just get destroyed in a situation like that.

The main problem was that Kuoh wasn't a safe place. He had to familiarize himself with the city as much as he could. The most desolate places were to be noted, as the lack of humans paved way to the presence of the supernatural.

Ayame's only advantages were foreknowledge and a low-profile. Nobody would pursue him as long as he didn't do anything stupid, for now. In the meantime, his only options were exploring the city and be some sort of vigilante. At some point he would inevitably find the clues that led him towards the monster's hideout if he looked hard enough.

With that in mind, he would also jog outside and keep training his body to extend his endurance. Looking for suspicious activity could be coupled with physical training, and he would kill two birds with one stone. He couldn't remain inactive under the excuse of a meaningless routine. This was the perfect opportunity to do something new for a change.

Ayame dressed himself with dull clothes that wouldn't bring much attention—just a simple hoodie and dark pants—, as well as his scarf. Upon finishing, he walked out of his home, locked the door, and began strolling in a random direction.

The brunet dived into his thoughts. And a sort of epiphany hit him, just after letting go of the constant focus needed to outline his plans of action.

It was crucial to be centered. A careless overlook from his part would end terribly, unsatisfyingly, so he didn't have much interest other than scheming and fulfill his objectives. Only after he decided on what to do and how did the question of why spring in his mind.

Was all of this really necessary? Training, getting in trouble with supernatural creatures, risking his life… was it worth it?

He had already decided on it. No doubt clouded Ayame's judgment on that front. But, he wondered, if looked from anyone else's perspective, he felt they would label him as insane. And he wasn't about to deny an accusation like that – the brunet was a bit screwed up in the head long before he considered diving into a situation like this. If it wasn't desperation to feel emotion, it was keenness to end it all that gave him ideas to kill himself. Nobody like that could be considered sane or normal.

Despite everything, Ayame wouldn't back down. This was a desperate situation. He didn't trust himself enough to go back to a mundane, monotone lifestyle without snapping. One could be withdrawn and antisocial for so long before it was too much. Maybe it was a very twisted instinct of self-preservation that pushed him into this. Violence and danger excited him, and for moments, the slow decay in life that would eventually culminate in suicide seemed worse than a sudden, bloody death in battle.

Funnily enough, it probably was that same disposition to self-preservation that had got him thinking if this was too much.

Ayame wasn't scared. Fear was for people who valued themselves enough to be wary of something that could end them. He didn't give two damns about death when life could be so infuriating, so stalled. But life itself presented the option of change.

A few days ago, he died. Such event changed him. It brought another side of his he didn't know he had outside.

That was the reason he was running. He was running and training to become stronger, so he could come face to face with Yuuma Amano. He would have an encounter with her. Death would graze him again with its cold fingers. If he was lucky enough, he would find the warmth of life once again if he escaped his demise.

The teen had that certainty. If he repeated the process and each new time he was closer to finally dying for sure, he'd come to appreciate his worthless existence. Maybe he'd find an actual reason to live.

Ayame could die as much as Yuuma could die. In any case, the brunet would come out on top. No result was undesirable.

As he pondered, the thought of his family flashed across his mind. They still loved him dearly. They wouldn't move on if he disappeared, he didn't think they could. And however miserable he was, however boring and utterly unimportant, Ayame still had opportunities to live a normal life. His grades were very good. He could get nice job offers. Maybe meet a girl he liked along the way.

When he mused if he could let go of those things with no regrets, exchange them for one last moment of joy before a gory death, only blank came to mind.

He pursed his lips. Ayame didn't even want to acknowledge the possibility. That perhaps, he wasn't committed enough. Committed to make some sacrifices. And at this point in life, it was all or nothing.

But that sliver of incertitude lingered. Knowing that kind of thinking would make him hesitate, he pushed it away.

After an hour running around, his chest began to ache. He vaguely tasted blood. He decided it was best to stop before he had another unfortunate incident.

His throat felt coarse and his tongue had a metallic taste. As the thirst became prominent, he wondered if he should've brought a bottle of water along. Thankfully, he did bring his wallet.

Ayame stopped by the first vending machine that came to sight. He walked in front of it and looked from top to bottom through the transparent glass. All of the drinks blended into a meaningless list of choices. They would all fulfill the same objective anyway.

He picked one from the lot, not minding the price or the flavor. He crouched and retrieved a colorful can, which he cracked open moments later. The brunet drank the fizzy liquid without restraint or intention of savoring it.

The drink had no taste either. Strange, but unimportant.

The brunet gulped down with effort, despite his hurting throat. As he lowered the can to take a breather, a close conversation caught his attention.

"…Uh… I feel really dizzy, Kabuki-san. Everything's like… spinning, and blurry…"

A feminine voice. Ayame looked in the direction from where it came from.

Many meters away, crossing the street and walking in his direction, was a girl. She had the uniform of Kuoh Academy. She had black hair with a white hairband on top and green eyes. Ayame had probably seen her around school at some point, but understandably forgot about her. She was young enough to be a junior.

As she approached, he noticed her lazy and disordered movements. Her legs tangled and stumbled upon each other, her posture barely firm. Her eyes seemed vacant, dizzy, but not exactly tired. It seemed as if she was unfocused.

Walking alongside her were shady-looking guys. They were older, maybe around their twenties. Ayame knew better than to simply judge by appearance, but they definitely looked like delinquents. The closer they got, the less Ayame believed them to mean well.

One of them was uncomfortably close to the girl, with an arm wrapped around her shoulders. His fingers grazed the girl's chest, almost groping. He had very short black hair, and wore a sleeveless black shirt showing his skinny arms, along with baggy red pants. His two friends, as shady as him, didn't register as 'important' inside Ayame's mind, so everything they said and how they looked like bounced off his memory.

The one closest to the girl, 'Kabuki', bared a toothy smile in response to the girl's tired question. He failed to appear friendly and harmless. The brunet was sure he wasn't trying to either way.

"Now, now, dontcha worry Himiko-chan!" he reassured with a mocking voice and an accent that grated on Ayame's ears, as if speaking to an unsuspecting child. "It's just a lil' side effect of the 'candy' I gave ya before…"

He pulled out a transparent bag from one of his pockets, and playfully wiggled it in front of the girl's face. Upon closer inspection, Ayame distinguished small circular tables inside. Moments later, he understood.

The girl was drugged.

"Tell ya what, Himiko-chan. I have some friends who wanna 'play' with ya," he explained. "I'll present you to them, you entertain them a while, and then I give ya the whole bag! How's that sound?"

"Eh… well…" She lacked the energy to respond or think correctly, it seemed. "I… suppose it won't hurt anyone. But I need to return home early, okay…?"

Kabuki smiled wretchedly upon hearing her positive response. "Yeah, yeah, dontcha worry 'bout a single thing. It'll just last a few hours and we'll have lotsa fun~"

Ayame observed impassively.

The girl was being played by a fool, and somehow, they had managed to drug her. She was in a trance. In such state, it was very easy for them to do whatever they wanted. He was sure they would convince her to accompany them, and then rape her. If he didn't know any better, he was sure they could do even worse things.

Any normal person would have instantly questioned them in regards to their crime, stopped them in the act.

Ayame shook his head. He was still set on finishing his drink instead.

This situation didn't especially concern him. He had no reason to stop scum from behaving accordingly, or a moral obligation strong enough to help that girl from having her life ruined. He couldn't care less about what happened in the end, as long as it didn't affect him.

Despite his unwillingness to do anything, Kabuki still took notice of Ayame once he was close enough. He rapidly stuffed the bag with drugs inside his pocket, and glared at the teenager, face twisting into a repugnant scowl.

"Watcha lookin' at, pretty boy?" snarled the man from afar. "Mind yer own business and stare elsewhere, or I'll shove that vending machine up yer ass."

He visibly scowled upon hearing the threat. Thoughts about running up to Kabuki and scooping his eyeballs with his bare fingers came up in his mind, but he quickly pushed them away. Ayame wasn't fond of dirtying his hands with blood or littering the streets with human-sized trash. Besides, he was allowed to skip school because his parents trusted him. He couldn't get in trouble just like that.

"I didn't say anything, retard…" he quietly murmured under his breath as he looked away, sipping his drink with rising irritation. He couldn't waste time with an idiot who definitely had negative numbers for IQ points. Training and getting stronger was still the priority.

"Ahhh? Did ya say anythin', Nerd?" said Kabuki, almost yelling. "If ya got somethin' to say, then come 'ere and say it to my face, bitch. If ya don't, then piss off."

His friends laughed and encouraged him to 'break pretty boy's face'. Himiko vacantly stared from one side to the other, still confused about the ordeal. Ayame remained expressionless.

He didn't need anyone to tell him to go away. He had much better things to do than risking unnecessary fights with an unimportant and childish moron he met on the street. And so, he twirled around and began walking away.

Or that was his original decision.

'Fight'… the word buzzed in his head.

Ayame could train - he was going to train a lot. He didn't doubt his physical condition would become much better as time went on and as long as he made the required effort to really feel progress.

However, actual fighting skills were another matter. Sooner or later he could boast about having an athlete's physique. But that never meant he would have enough knowledge to engage in a fight, enough versatility to invent strategies and carry them out, or enough experience to push through difficult situations and make full use of his wits. It was a good reason to resort to violence and turn into a seasoned fighter as soon as possible.…

…And a good excuse for splitting Kabuki's skull in half.

To be better at fighting, he had to fight.

Ayame turned around again. Before the criminal's challenging grin and his friend's tasteless jokes, he stared blankly.

"Actually, I do have something to say."

The older man whistled. His smile widened repulsively.

"Oh? Then go ahead, pretty boy."

Ayame hummed, and his lips transformed into a faint, somewhat unnerving smile.

"I was just surprised… I didn't know a high school girl could remain so much time so close to an ugly asshole like you, and not kill herself out of shame. Have you considered that maybe, just maybe, you're a piece of trash and humanity would be better off without you in the world?"

Silence ensued for a considerable amount of seconds. Kabuki's smile disappeared completely, replaced with a baffled expression. His friends remained speechless, not knowing what to make of Ayame's comment.

"You're a sad buffoon. Drugging a defenseless girl is the most pathetic crime I've ever seen in my life. Do you honestly believe hurting someone weaker makes you bad and tough? Your parents must be really disappointed… if you have parents at all. I wouldn't want to shelter such a miserable failure like you if I was your progenitor, frankly speaking."

Ayame's smile went away soon after.

The insult seemed to have the desired effect on the unintelligent goon. Kabuki instantly pulled away from Himiko, and walked in a thuggish manner towards Ayame. There was an annoyed scowl on his face. The teenager stood his ground, and sooner or later, there was not much space between him and his soon-to-be enemy.

They were centimeters apart. Kabuki was shorter than Ayame, so the brunet had to look down.

"Ya lookin' to get killed, kid?" he said menacingly. "I've met little bitches like ya before, who tried to be the white knight in shinin' armor, save the innocent and shit. If ya don't wanna end up like them, that is, either in a hospital or the morgue, then I reckon ya should piss off and stop tryin' to be the hero."

The brunet looked down at the man with his unexpressive face.

"I'm no hero," he responded seconds after having a staring match with Kabuki. "I just think you should disappear, as a favor to the planet. But since you clearly don't have humanitarian objectives in mind… I guess I could take your life for you."

If the conversation hadn't been tainted with a sense of hostility before, now it was.

The man roughly grabbed Ayame by the collar, bringing him close. The brunet noticed how Kabuki's other hand mingled in his pocket, and inside it, a sharp figure pushing against his pants.

He had a knife.

This was bad. There were not a lot of people around at that time of the afternoon, meaning no one would come and help him if things got extremely ugly. He had no weapons to defend himself either.

…He didn't mind the handicap. He had to contain a creeping smile from twisting his expression at the anticipation of a bloody conflict, and the odds against him.

"Ya talking mad shit for someone who's gonna get trashed, buddy," he said in response to the teenager's threat against him. "Any last words you wanna spare, sassy boy?"

Ayame closed his eyes and relaxed, trying to not be brusque and risk getting injured just yet. He moved his head backwards, until his face was staring in the direction of the sky.

"…Yes, I do have something else to say."

And then, he brought his head down with great speed.

"Sleep and don't ever wake up again, you piece of shit."

Ayame smashed his forehead against Kabuki's face, not allowing him any time to react or speak.

A loud creaking resounded throughout the empty street. The delinquent lost his posture and began stumbling from one side to another, head shaking violently from the impact. He was driven to his knees, covering his face with both hands.

Ayame was able to see red liquid flowing down Kabuki's skin and onto the ground. He broke his nose.

Yet, such injury didn't stop the older man from getting up after a few seconds of tense silence. Ayame steeled himself for the upcoming charge.

"Y-Ya… Ya little motherfucker…!"

And Kabuki ran after the young man.

He approached, and Ayame saw a glint. The knife he had hidden inside his pocket until now was taken out, small blade glimmering in his field of vision.

The delinquent thrust his knife forward without restraint or hesitation. Albeit it was a crude attack, with no technique or precision behind it, it was still able to kill. The weapon was aimed at his chest.

Ayame couldn't use his right hand, as he was still holding his drink. He decided to stop the incoming attack with his left hand.

At the very last moment, Ayame forcefully slapped Kabuki's hand away and sidestepped, changing the course of the knife.

Unfortunately, he couldn't completely avoid it. The blade grazed his neck and sliced through it deep enough. Blood spilled.

Something got ripped apart. Skin and flesh parted away, and liquid trickled out with great pressure from the large gash on his neck. His throat flooded with blood from the inside.

Too deep. Something important was damaged. Too much blood. It hurt, it really hurt, and he liked it-

-And he was dead. He was definitely dead.

He made a mistake - no human was capable of surviving for too long with a cut this deep, he instinctually realized. Nobody was going to help him. His death was certain. The only thing left to do was to roll on the ground and bleed to death.

Yet, as if to delay his inevitable end, the world slowed down.

A shock of electricity travelled throughout his left arm, just moments after slapping Kabuki's hand with it. His insides felt like they were on fire. Some form of lucid dizziness took ahold of his mind as his vision unfocused on everything else, except the enemy in front of him. His body was lighter, and his muscles tensed up.

His heart started to beat at an accelerated pace.

Ayame couldn't explain this feeling. He felt energized, full of vigor. His mind and body had both entered in an adrenaline-induced reverie.

He couldn't understand why he was experiencing this, or why was it happening right now. But he knew one crucial thing, now that he was injured with a mortal wound - he couldn't let it go to waste. If he was going to die for his recklessness, then he needed to take Kabuki down with him.

Ayame gently placed his feet on the ground as he stepped back. He was slightly faster than the world around him, which seemed to be submerged in the bottom of the tranquil ocean. The delinquent, still set on finishing him off, took another step forward.

Kabuki moved his knife back, and then thrust it forward again with the intention of killing Ayame.

Six seconds had already passed since everything 'froze'. The teenager felt as everything returned to its normal speed. In reality, he was the one getting slower. The sudden rush of energy that was making his chances of survival dramatically rise up was disappearing. In that narrow gap of time between the end of a life-threatening action and the start of another, he pushed his thought process to the limits. The ideas flowed in clearly, and his muscles dutifully responded to the call before he consciously decided to act.

Seven seconds. The knife was a few centimeters away before reaching its objective.

Eight seconds. Ayame tightened his hand around the drink he was enjoying moments ago.

Nine seconds. Bloody steel whistled dangerously as it closed distances with Ayame's heart, fully intending to perforate it.

Ten seconds-

The knife stopped dead cold, impacting against a target and definitely piercing it in the process. There was a metallic screech, a drowned gasp, and nothing else.

Both looked down.

Ayame had intercepted the knife with the can he was holding. It was torn apart, and its liquids were spilling down on the ground.

The teenager looked at his opponent again. The world had regained its natural flow of time. He had no time to waste.

Ayame pulled the older man towards him, pushed away his arm and delivered a powerful uppercut on his chin with the left hand. The strike was strong enough to suspend him mid-air for a fraction of a second, before he fell on his back.

He stared at the man, who now lay completely immobile. A greenish bruise was already forming on his face. He was completely knocked out, and he didn't seem like he was getting up anytime soon.

Ayame coughed, and then covered his open neck. The blood loss was going to kill him, in a few minutes. There was no time to go to a hospital, and no way to stop the leak. He had already won this battle, and the only thing left to do was to die…

"…What?"

…Or that appeared to be the case at first.

He touched his bloody skin, and searched the wound with his fingers.

Yet, upon performing a physical inspection, Ayame understood there was no wound. Albeit his pale skin was stained with red, no blood was seeping out anymore. There was no pain, or an injury on his neck. His flesh was completely smooth. There was no scar, no sign of having been sliced just seconds ago.

Ayame took his hand off, and stared at it. Fresh blood dried up on his palm.

The brunet smiled. His empty blue eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"…Just my imagination, I suppose," he said. "I'm not one to complain if I live a little longer, anyway."

He then redirected his attention towards the other delinquents. They wore surprised expressions upon seeing their leader unconscious on the ground, before staring at him with a mix of animosity and wariness. They pushed Himiko aside, who stood with an empty expression on another corner.

Ayame clenched his fists. He breathed in one time. Blood dripped from the corner of his lips.

"What are you waiting for?" the teenager questioned with a slightly impatient voice. "Come on, attack me. I already defeated your friend, so it would only be right for you to strike me down too."

And understandably enough, seconds after muttering his provocation, both men lunged at him while spewing curses and insults.

"Good." Ayame steeled himself before his new opponents and smiled. "Don't hold back."


- ~DxD~ -

It was a nice spring afternoon in Kuoh. The sun was shining. The wind was fresh. Birds were chirping. Everything was colorful, warm. And Issei Hyoudou was pedaling his bike across the streets after being dismissed from school.

In a day so bright, Issei seemed to be the only dark spot. His usual smiley face was nowhere to be seen. There was only an exasperated expression. As a matter of fact, he was in a bad mood. The only reason he wasn't cursing and huffing was because he didn't want to crash against a wall in a fit of anger. Besides, staying positive was his life policy.

Still, it wasn't easy to feel happy like pigs in mud. Not now particularly, considering his problems weren't chasing after girls or not flunking in school anymore.

Life was normal. Or so it seemed from the outside. Issei himself didn't feel all that changed, unless he began thinking about matters too deeply. Then, things would get icky.

He was a devil.

Not in the metaphorical sense, as many would call him for his peeking at school. The shift looked like it was in name only. If he turned off the few pounds of brain he had chilling in his skull, everything was dandy and all. He didn't need to think if he just wanted to look at pretty ladies and do like his hormones told him. But when the implications caught up to him—and they always did, fuck his life—, he couldn't turn a blind eye.

He was a devil, which meant he wasn't human any longer. He was a servant, forever and unwillingly tied with some voodoo-like magic to a more powerful devil. He had a Sacred Gear or something inside of him, created by Go… that guy. A lot of bastards hated his guts and were out for his blood because he was a devil, and had Sacred Gear on top of it, and-

"Fuuuuck, this is stupid!" he said, the silence carrying his voice all throughout the empty neighborhood. "Just thinking 'bout it gives me a friggin' headache!"

A headache was just the icing on his cake of worries. His life was as straight as a dog's hind leg, and between magic, devils and a murderous angel, he wasn't sure which one boggled his mind more. Everywhere he looked, he saw a new reason to be shifty. Maybe there was a reason to feel tense. Maybe, most probably, Issei was just chickening out, exaggerating.

Worst of all, he couldn't even get grip on the fact he died before Rias dragged him back to her fancy clubhouse. She explained some stuff, made him sign some papers, and then he was officially part of the Occult Research Club of Kuoh Academy.

Nobody asked him if he wanted to join. And Issei didn't have enough backbone to flat out reject Rias' proposal. Looking at the bright side, at least he finally had allies!

Or people who didn't want to kill him dead, at the very least.

The Occult Research Club was just a cover. Rias and her group—was it a peerage?—of devils used it to blend in, do their fiendish devil stuff or whatever.

He barely met the members. Issei couldn't get to know them too much before Rias got him tangled in shadier stuff, something about doing a 'devil's job'. And the premise was kind of misleading. The brunet didn't expect devils to have jobs, first of all, but he could kiss his common sense goodbye unless he wanted to go crazy. The more he fought against the unexpected, the easier it'd confuse him.

And that's why he was riding his bike now. Rias had sent him on a mission, and he'd rather follow her orders rather than going in blind. His brain couldn't keep up with things like magic or devils. This was the better end of the bargain, for now, and not getting murdered was too sweet a deal to pass up.

It was better than, say, taking on people like Yuuma.

Issei may not have been the sharpest tool in the shed, but even he could notice how Rias avoided talking too much about supernatural things with him around.

She saved his life. But she wouldn't let him off the hook that easily, not when she expected a compensation for her help. At least she wasn't totally callous and threw him to the lions right off the bat. Issei Hyoudou had been a normal guy a few days ago. He wasn't ready for any of this.

The sole idea of being a devil put him off. And maybe not so much for the responsibilities that came with being a devil, but more about how he became one in the first place.

His stomach hurt. It had been hurting since a few days ago. It was sharp pain, as if a thorn was trying to skewer him from the inside. There was no scar or injury to back it up. But it still hurt. And the slight prickling brought to light certain memories that got him in an anxious mood.

Who could blame him? What kind of person wouldn't feel uncomfortable at the idea their first serious love in life stabbed them through the stomach and left them to die?

It was cruel. Yeah, Yuuma didn't actually love him and her interests were pointed elsewhere. But was that enough reason to play with a guy's feelings, and then ruthlessly kill him after their first date together? It didn't have any reason to be, and it denoted Yuuma Amano was someone with no empathy and very little chances of forgiveness.

Still… he couldn't help fantasizing. What if she'd never killed him? What if she'd been a normal girl? What if she actually loved him…?

"Tsk… nah, that ain't good. Why am I gettin' all teary-eyed over something' like this?"

He shook his head.

"Yuuma ain't a girl worth cryin' over," he declared to no one in particular, as if giving himself important advice. "Chasin' after her would make me look bad. I ain't the perfect dude, but I should be better than her…"

And that's why he wouldn't waste energy thinking about the ifs and buts. That ship had already sailed. He had a shitty first date and got killed, but he was alive now. His brother was alive too. There were reasons to sulk as there were to smile and take it easy, and he was eager to do the latter.

"Besides, I'm gonna kick her ass next time I see her!" he blurted out proudly. A few people in the distance turned to stare at him weirdly, but he didn't mind.

It was Issei's belief that women were the most beautiful creatures on earth. He would think it twice and smash his own head against a wall before considering hitting a girl.

But Yuuma kinda deserved it. So maybe she had some sort of privilege for being the first woman he wanted to punch. Either way, it didn't matter as long as they didn't see each other ever again.

He shook his head. Focus, he needed focus. There was a job and it needed doing. Issei wanted to go home already and thinking about his not-girlfriend was annoying and also a bit sad.

As he mulled over his next destination, the memory of his meeting with Rias came to mind. He replayed it again and again in his head, probably trying to seek an advice he forgot and the reason he was so terrible at being a goddamn devil—

"—So… devils have jobs."

"Indeed," confirmed Rias. "Mystical and powerful as we may seem in humanity's folklore, devils have to earn their daily bread as well. In the Underworld we have agriculture, technology, architecture, law, fine arts and philosophies, cuisine the like mortals have never savored, and music that touches the right strings of the heart. All of it is culture my ancestors built throughout millennia, when precariousness used to be the only patrimony of devilkind."

Rias' words indicated hardship. Yet, explaining the past of her race brought an endearing smile to her smooth pink face. Something like pride shone in her pupils and she straightened her back against her seat, hands linked on her table.

Hers was the image of a confident businesswoman, and Issei wasn't ready for a job interview. Worst of all, he couldn't keep eye contact. She was far too cute and he needed to concentrate.

"Devils are painted as greedy, underhanded," she continued, her tone harshening a bit, "as is every scapegoat portrayed in a story told by another. The winners need their losers, and the heroes need their villains, so they can flaunt their virtues against our vices. Heaven won the faith of humans and angels can slander my people for eternity. What a load of bullsh… rubbish."

Now that was extremely cute. Issei couldn't help himself smiling a little, either because of the passion Rias showed, or how much she held back from speaking her thoughts crudely. He wasn't making light of her for acting professional, not at all. But her commitment to her image was admirable.

…Focus. He had to focus. Rias talking about the devils' bad reputation wasn't cute. She was, but that wasn't the point.

The young woman cleared her throat.

"…I'd prefer to say we devils are ambitious, industrious. The best of us don't sit around waiting for fortune to come. We take the opportunities and search for success. And that's why we make for excellent entrepreneurs. We know what people want and we're far too prideful to settle with any less than perfection."

Rias stopped for a moment and snuck a hand behind her desk. She opened a drawer, and there was the sound of rustling papers. A few seconds later, she smacked a stash of rough sheets on her desk. The redhead fixed her wild locks away from her face in a graceful motion, and gave him a patient stare.

"Ambition, perfection, entrepreneurship. You'd do well to keep those words in mind. They're part of the reason we're here, today."

"Y-Yeah." Issei nodded, showing attention.

Rias nodded along.

"Good. Now, let's put this in simple terms. You're a reincarnated devil, freshly started, without magical potential or free access to your Sacred Gear. Your physical abilities are on par with a devil toddler—or even lower—and your mental prowess is… average."

Ouch, ouch, ouch. Issei had to swallow a groan and hold back a tear. He had been called stupid many times over the course of his lifespan. But being called 'average' by someone who clearly believed he was dumb was a bazillion times worse. She was trying to be nice and all, but that was salt on the wound. And having a cute girl calling him dumb? That was the worst.

"You are my servant, a servant of the House of Gremory. By affiliation alone you already possess some considerable prestige – belonging to a noble house is quite important. But in devil society, a fancy name can only take you so far before people realize it's your only attribute with weight. You don't want that. I assure you."

"Basically…" butted it Issei. He cursed inwardly for speaking out of term, but followed up regardless. "…All hat and no cattle?"

"…Hat? Cattle?" murmured Rias. She smiled second later, snapping her fingers. "…Yes, I like that! All hat and no cattle… all bark and no bite. You have a way with words."

Issei smiled, but the serious ambience came back with a vengeance quickly enough.

"Anyway, back to the topic. In summary, you're the lowest of the low, at the bottom of the barrel," Rias declared.

Those were too many ouchies. His good mood plummeted. But he had to be strong.

"All devils like you start the same. Some have a few upper hands, but everyone has to climb the ranks, prove their worth. This means you have to work pretty hard. Your performance determinates both your wellbeing and my reputation. And you know what people say: there are no bad students, only bad teachers."

Issei swallowed the lump in his throat. Confidence, he had to show confidence. He had to get on her good side and being nervous wasn't the way.

"I get it, G-Gremory-senpai. You saved my life 'n all. A true man ain't leaving a debt unpaid, is what my pop always says. I'll do my best!"

Rias smile widened a bit. Excellent! Women always liked a man with guts.

"See? That's what I like about you," she said. "You're ambitious. Or at the very least, you're stubborn, you don't back away easily. Weak and feeble as you may be, you still have potential Ise. It has come to my attention you… quite enjoy making the girls at school angry."

This was possibly the first time Issei was embarrassed about his perversion. Damn him and his hormones.

"Whatever anyone said 'bout me, it ain't true," he blurted out.

"Now, now," she said in an appeasing tone, knowingly, "sexual depravity is the least of my concerns Ise. You're a growing boy. Showing interest in women is healthy behavior. While I'd have my complaints regarding decorum, this is totally fine. I'm a devil, and you are one too. Being debauched isn't bad in our terms."

Fuck his embarrassment. Rias was an angel, not a devil. Only an angel would understand his needs and treat him fairly!

"What I want is for you to focus that drive, your emotions. Use them to fuel you. Devils quite literally power up on strong feelings. Someone young and excitable like you? It makes for a very good devil candidate. It'll be imperative, because your first task as a devil is irritating, not going to lie."

Issei tensed up a bit. He tried to play it cool, mingle a hand inside his pocket, but he didn't handle expectations very well.

"What's the gig?" came out his laidback question. "Can't be that bad…"

Rias giggled. "It is neither horrible nor impossible. But it's quite a hassle Ise. Your first mission will be… mastering the art of trade."

He swallowed again.

"Most of the devil workforce is situated in the Underworld. We try not to take resources from the human world if we can help it, simply because the Underworld is incredibly vast and rich, and devils are small in number to populate it. But there's one thing we can't get back at home… I'm speaking about souls."

"…Wait, souls?"

She nodded. "In a literal sense. Your first task is to collect souls from humans."

Issei's excitement took a dive and now he wasn't as committed anymore. There were nasty implications in her words and he had to hold back from rejecting her outright. The brunet kept calm and asked.

"So, yer saying I have to… kill… people?"

"What? No, nobody said anything about killing," said Rias as she shook her head. "We devils make contracts with humans. Humans come to us asking for things they normally can't get on their own. We grant them their wishes, and after doing so, they give us their life essence in exchange. The premise is simple like that."

Even a simple premise and a simpler explanation couldn't get rid of his nervousness. This had to have a fine print, and he was going to discover it before doing something stupid.

"…Is this safe and all? I mean, ya kinda made it clear stereotypes didn't apply to devils, Gremory-senpai. But that sounds pretty devil-like, bribing people for their souls and all the jazz."

"Stereotypes have a sliver of truth, Ise," explained the redhead patiently. "Repeat something enough times and it'll become a prejudice in the eyes of others. Devil society is functional on souls. It's the one thing we can't make a compromise over, and not because we're evil and wicked."

Rias slid her chair back and got up. Crossing her arms in a stern posture, she treaded round her desk and towards Issei. Issei took a shaky step back out of instinct but tried to stand his ground.

"But fear not. As I said, you're not murdering anyone. None of us in my peerage is, as no self-respecting devil goes around in bloody rampages. We have standards."

The redhead set her emerald eyes on him. Issei tried to set his own eyes on hers, but he found his sight wandering downwards. For the first time, it wasn't because of her big chest.

"Humans are the ones who search for us," she continued. "They summon us of their own free will-"

The young woman twirled around. Her servant followed where she was looking. She was staring at the table, at the stack of papers.

"-using these fancy little flyers here. Each single paper is stocked with a plethora of advanced spells. They're mass produced in the Underworld, and only noble devils with peerages in the human world can get the permits needed to operate with them."

Rias spun around again.

"The flyers are susceptible to wishes, cravings. If you even think about wanting something while you're close to one of them, it'll activate and send a 'signal' with the coordinates and current situation of the client. Only devils in my peerage can intercept the signal. Once this is done, with my permission, one of my servants will respond to the signal by sending feedback anima, activating the summoning spell that follows. This will teleport them in front of the client in a blink."

She uncrossed her arms. With one of them, she extended it and took one of the flyers between too fingers, dangling it back close to her body.

"And then? You'll introduce yourself, explain I'm your master, and tell them you're there to help. Hear them out, see what they want. It's your responsibility to assist them in their endeavors and make them happy."

His master offered him the flyer in her hand. After giving it some thought, Issei took ahold of it with an unsure grip.

The paper felt somewhat ominous to the touch. A complex drawing of a circle was engraved on the center, red-blood in color, with runes and weird symbols arranged in circular rows. One big symbol was in the very middle – it was an encased rose, Issei vaguely noticed.

"With me so far?" she asked. "I doubt you'll have much trouble. You're familiar with the flyers, since you've used one of them before."

Her nonchalance upon mentioning it stung a bit. He knew she wasn't trying to be mean, but her commentary brought bad memories to mind. Memories that only seemed to haunt him more the harder he avoided them.

"…Yeah, crystal clear," was Issei's response.

"Excellent. Now, after you satisfy your client, you have to make them shed a few drops of blood on the flyer. By doing so, a binding spell will be activated, anchoring their soul to mine. This is considered as a successful payment."

Issei gulped and looked away from the paper, seeking some reassurance in Rias instead.

"A-And… that's it? Nothin' else happens?" he murmured, shifting on his feet. "Sounds kinda bland, after that entire explanation…"

Rias giggled. It was such a strangely cheerful sound while planning to reap the souls of humans. It didn't fit, but he didn't mind.

"It's bland. But the 'satisfy your client' part is a pain the bum. Most of the time humans will waste your time and behave like divas, asking you exaggerated stuff just to ruffle your feathers. Others will simply not pay you at all. It happened to all my servants."

"And if they don't pay?" quickly followed up Issei. "What should I do in that situation…?"

The redhead shrugged.

"You swallow your anger and leave respectfully. Those who don't pay are blacklisted, and devils will think twice before visiting those people. We don't waste our time."

Issei let out a sigh. That was one problem solved, at least. Rias wasn't lying when she said she was civil.

"Those who do want to uphold their end of the bargain have to know what they're getting into. Devils are, believe me, pretty transparent. All the details of the deal are disclosed. You have to tell them they're actually selling their souls, which means there's no afterlife for them. Only nothingness."

And just as quickly as he relaxed, he got tense again. He just hoped he'd get over all the shady prospects thrown at him sooner or later. He didn't want to be a walking train wreck.

"So that means we are killing, kinda…"

Rias huffed.

"We're not killing anyone, Ise." There was a sudden change in her tone. "Any of our clients will live a normal, happy life after they sell their souls. That is none of our concern."

"…You did mention a binding spell kinda thingy, though," mentioned the brunet after hesitating for a second.

"The binding spell means that, once they die for any reason, their life essence will be mine. From then on I'll decide whether I'll materialize their soul into a physical form and sell it for profit, or assimilate it and add it into my own, making myself stronger. Whatever the case, whatever happens, we do not interfere with our clients' lifespan."

Issei tried to come up with something, think of a detail he overlooked. He did so in part because he wanted to be sure he wasn't doing something very dark, in part because he wanted an excuse to not do this job at all. Unfortunately, upliftingly, Rias seemed to have a harmless explanation for every tricky consideration. She had the whole shtick thought out, every redundancy taken care of. And nobody was hurt at the end.

"If it makes you feel better, any devil that hurts human is persecuted and severely punished by my kin. My servants have no innocent blood on their hands, and we don't have patience for animals that smear our race's name."

It didn't lift his mood precisely because there were devils that did it, if she was considering that possibility at all.

"Is this enough for you to keep a clear conscience, Ise?"

But Rias did specify this job was safe. And he still owed her, so he could work with this.

"Yeah… this is kinda good, all in all," said Issei, trying to crack a smile.

"It's excruciating torture. You can't imagine how stingy people can be no matter how happy you make them. So please try not to bash your clients' skulls in, and act like a good little gentleman."

Rias laughed heartily. Issei took a few seconds to get her joke, but he joined in with a laugh of his own. Laughing as she was, she walked up to her desk and took the whole stack of summoning flyers on her hands. She gently shoved them on his face, and he took them with a bit of reluctance. Issei's fingers brushed her silky skin and he hid his blushing face behind the papers. Her hand was soft.

"Oh, I have two reminders for you, Ise."

The brunet composed himself and lowered the papers.

"First, I need you to bring me the summoning flyers of your successful contracts. They're basically receipts, and the bureaucrats in the Underworld will have my hide if two peerages get into disputes over the same clients."

"Gotcha," responded Issei.

She showed another tiny smile. "Perfect. And the second reminder is that you actually need to hand out these flyers to people before they can call you. Otherwise, what's the point?"

Issei's eye twitched. Now he was beginning to see the irritating side.

"Ah, of course! I also had a gift for you. Stay there for a bit."

Before he could ask what it was, she returned to her desk. After mingling with some drawers again, Rias walked up to him with something in her closed hand.

"This is… an item that'll make your life easier."

She drew her hand near him. Her fingers opened one by one, revealing the thing she was holding.

It seemed like a pendant. It was black, metallic, marked with runes similar to the ones in the flyer. A crimson gem was incrusted in the center.

"This is an irritating job, Ise. But sometimes you'll ask yourself, 'how do I fulfill impossible wishes?' Well, this is your answer – an amulet specifically devised for these situations, devil sorcery of the highest craft."

Issei stared down at the unsuspecting object. From that distance of a few centimeters, it felt as ominous or even more than the flyers themselves.

"This amulet is supercharged with 'causation distortion' magic. In layman's terms, it's a lucky charm. Anyone who speaks a wish aloud while holding this charm will receive an 'extreme blessing'. So the person who wants to be rich will win the lottery, and the guy who wants a girlfriend will have an encounter with a possible romantic partner. In reality it's just the amulet adjusting the situation to the wisher's liking, sometimes breaking through logical circumstances and forcing a desired result to happen."

The brunet gulped. His mind kind of stopped for a second as he tried to comprehend. A bona fide, wish-granting accessory and she was just giving it to him?

"Before you ask, no, this amulet is not for you," she pointedly declared. "It's for your clients. If you reach a dead end and you really, really want to make a contract, you can let them use this charm. Upon activation, the human's soul will be instantly bound to me without the need of a flyer. They will have their wish instantly granted and you won't have to do anything else."

"Wow…" was the only thing Issei managed to say. Stupefied and all, he still managed to ask the obvious. "I mean… it's incredible. But if ya have something like this, why make such a fuss about contracts 'n whatnot, Gremory-senpai…?"

She closed her eyes, pensive. Some moments of consideration later, she spoke.

"Souls are the cornerstone of magic. Without soul, there is no magic. It's the golden rule, and only those who are powerful can perform great miracles without paying a high price for it. For someone to use this spell without a spirit strong enough to withstand its effects… what do you think will happen, Ise?"

The answer was clear as day. Yet, as if to confirm his fears, she spelled it out in detail.

"Any human who uses this amulet will be rendered an empty husk. They'll live more or less, depending on the scope of their wish and the strength of their soul. But sooner or later they will simply die and I will be there to collect what's left. Most anyone has lived after using the charm is nine months, I've heard."

The boy gulped again. He couldn't undo the knot in his throat or his belly. After all those reassurances, why was she giving him something like this? It was a horrible power for something that should've been easygoing in general.

"You don't need to use this," Rias said, nudging the charm towards him. "But I want you to keep it. Barring the obvious reason that it'd make your business easier, I'd like you to keep it as a reminder. This charm is just my way of saying things could be much worse. This petty job is the tip of the iceberg."

Issei freed one of his hands and grabbed it. It weighted little, but merely holding it inspired something like fear, dread. This was dangerous.

"And the reason we don't simply use this amulet for every deal?" she continued. "Well... that's because our objective is not murdering our clients. You understand."

She hummed, and then looked up at him with her emerald eyes.

"So cheer up, Ise."

Rias said so with a smile, without irony. Her expression was unassuming, gentle.

Either she'd ignored this had crept him out, or she'd believed her advice was genuinely good.

Whatever the case, her expectations were genuine. And in front of that beautiful smile, with the trust she had in him, he could only respond in kind.

"Yeah… Yeah! I'll do my best, Gremory-senpai—!"

—Days had passed, and he was still pedaling like an idiot, with not a single contract sealed.

He was frustrated. He wanted to repay Rias, even if just a bit. But each and every one of his clients was disappointed with him. He couldn't make them pay.

To make things worse, Issei couldn't teleport like Rias had said. She explained he was too weak, had very little anima that could be used as magic. So he was stuck on his bike lest he wanted to go round Kuoh by foot. People probably thought he was a scammer by the way in which he crashed at their places with no great magic powers to show.

At least he hadn't stooped so low as to use Rias' gift. The sole idea irked him, because it really felt like he'd kill people.

So yeah. He was a failure. Not a very surprising fact to know, but it made him moody.

The good part about the gig is that he had to report back to Rias. And really, if Issei got to see her beautiful, beautiful body up close, especially when she normally seemed so unapproachable at school, he didn't quite mind being a servant…

"Ugh, focus you horny bastard!" he yelled, shaking his head. "This ain't the time nor place. Gotta do my job, and maybe succeed for a change."

And with that resolution in mind, he speeded up. He needed to get to the client's house.

Issei kept pedaling, sightseeing the streets without much care. There were some students from Kuoh Academy fooling around, chatting together within their groups of friends and enjoying the sunny day. Issei might've been doing the same with Matsuda and Motohama if he wasn't working right now.

He reached a small intersection.

Before he could position himself in his mental map of Kuoh, get some sense of direction, Issei noticed ruckus.

It wasn't too far away. People were slowly clustering together in a place of the street, enough to bother storeowners that saw their shop entrances clogged with the increasing multitude. Issei stood faraway, undecided, until he shrugged his shoulders.

"Can't hurt to take a peek. I'm bored anyway."

And so he decided to get close. He got off from his bike and walked towards the center of attention.

Many bystanders had pulled out their cellphones, taking pictures or filming videos. Some, mostly teenagers and young adults, were openly cheering, yelling encouraging words or insults. A few seemed worried, but any concern or attempt at stopping whatever was happening was thwarted by the rowdiness of the mob.

Issei tried to get a peek, but there were too many people cluttered together. He decided to call out for someone, a random businessman that happened to be there, tapping him on the shoulder.

"H-Hey, mister. Can ya see what's goin' on there?"

The man hummed, vaguely acknowledging Issei. "Yes. A bunch of brats are having a fistfight. Someone called the police already."

Issei hummed back. If they called the police, then the brawl was pretty heated up.

Seeing no harm in getting front seats for a bit, the brunet squished himself within the crowd. He kept a firm hold on his trusty bike. In less than a minute, he pushed people away and came out in the open.

Violent. There was no other word to describe it. Two young adults against one teenager, all three dishing out punches and kicks with all they had. The strikes were very strong, enough to leave bruises and break stuff. Issei could even see blood and teeth flying around. He surely didn't want to be in the receiving end of those hits.

It took him about two seconds. Two seconds to distinguish the fighters. The two adults, he didn't know. But upon recognizing the teenager…

'…No fucking way.'

…Ayame.

Issei had wondered many times how his big bro reacted if he took a fist to the chin. He was unlikable enough to provoke someone, get into a fight. It had been a funny thought. Ayame kinda deserved a good ass-whooping too.

Now, his brother was there, pale and girlish face all bloody and turning different shades of brown and purple. One eye of his was bloodshot. Whenever he opened his mouth, there was more red than white on his teeth. And despite all of that, Issei had no snarky commentary to make. He didn't feel smug either.

Those were nasty hits he was getting. He got struck two times for every time he socked one of them. And despite receiving blows worthy of hospitalization, he didn't go down.

Issei didn't think twice. He left his bike aside and charged forward.

"Hey, ugly!" shouted the brunet. "Get away from him!"

One of the men took notice of Issei. He didn't have much time to defend himself, and could only stare as the teenager approached.

Issei tackled him. The thug skidded a bit, and Issei even managed to smack the air out of his lungs with the charge. But he held his ground nonetheless.

The brunet wasn't done. He leaned downwards and grabbed the man's legs.

With a sudden surge of strength, Issei lifted his enemy. It was for a few moments. But it was enough for the teenager to crash the thug against a nearby wall.

'Wow… I didn't remember bein' this strong…'

There was not much time to awe at his newfound brawn. Issei heard cheers. He wished people would help him instead of enjoying the show. But the support fired him up.

He looked to the side. The other man was shaken up. Ayame stared tiredly, breathing hard. Issei gave him a confident smile.

"I've… I've got him bro! Beat the stupid out of that schmuck over there!"

The man in Issei's hold grunted, starting to shake the teenager off of him. The brunet pushed harder, and then punched his enemy on the side a few times. It didn't do much. In that position, it was hard to get a good hit in.

"Ya little bastard… get away from me!"

The man flailed wildly, smashing his fists on Issei's back and kicking everywhere. A stray knee to Issei's chest managed to push him away.

The thug, having had enough of the struggle, punched Issei on the face. Issei still held on to the thug in turn. They fell to the ground together in a mess of tangled bodies. The brunet ended at the bottom, with his corpulent adversary towering over him.

Another blow struck Issei on the cheek.

It didn't hurt much. Or at least, it didn't at first. Then, his sight got blurry, and the fact of getting hit properly registered in a brain too agitated by the pounding his skull was receiving.

The punches weren't enough to knock him out. But Issei cowered for a second, in that moment where he couldn't logically assess his condition and only think of defending. An instinctual reaction, it was impulsive and disadvantageous.

He raised his arms over his face. They trembled when the next series of hits came over them. The brunet tried to protect himself in any way possible, extending his arm for a lucky sucker-punch in intervals, but only managing to graze the man's skin. The one-sided assault continued, as did Issei's firm shielding of his face.

The pain meant little. Whether it was adrenaline or his own resistance, he soldiered on and took the beating like a champ. It proved effective when his enemy got cocky, stopping his attack to smirk triumphantly. Issei landed some solid impacts on his chest right after. Contrary to Issei, the thug did feel the hits, coughing and grumbling with ache.

But that didn't stop the man. It just pissed him off. So he hit harder and faster. And Issei was not guarding, for that instant.

A fist caught Issei's face. Then, another.

A third blow struck him on the forehead.

The brunet's head bounced against the pavement.

Issei groaned. His sight blurred. A headache was coming. There still was no pain, but his body refused to follow orders, to battle.

And then, he saw it. A glint, slim, metallic, sharp. A knife in his hand, he vaguely recognized.

It was a gap of a few seconds. A few seconds in which he was too dazed to move. Would it even matter to resist, if he was going to be stabbed to death?

Yet, a voice he knew very well rumbled inside his ears. The familiarity, the all too exasperated tone to it, the demeaning words… they made him smile.

"I believe I told you to fight me, idiot."

The blurry shape of the thug turned his head around, to see the one who spoke. A pale hand grabbed him by the hair and lifted him a bit quickly enough.

Ayame stared down at both his brother and the man attacking him. Issei couldn't see well, but blood was flowing from many orifices of his bro's face.

He lifted one leg, and smashed his knee against the man's face.

There was a crack. Loud.

But the man didn't go down. He clutched his face.

Ayame stumbled away. Coughing blood. Tired. More blood flowing. He was hurt. Blood coming from his head.

His big bro was hurt. They hurt him.

Issei felt his smile turn into a snarl.

Issei clenched his teeth. And he saw red.

His fists pushed against the ground. The muscles on his back tensed for a second. He mustered enough energy to force himself into a sitting position, just centimeters away from the injured thug.

With a strange mix of anger and preoccupation he didn't normally feel, Issei grabbed the man by the collar of his shirt. Then, he struck him square in the face. His arms went limp.

"D-Don't fuck…"

He struck a second time, harder. Another crack.

"…With my…"

And a third time.

"…Family!"

The last blow was pretty strong. As Issei let go of his enemy, the strength of the impact literally sent him flying. Well, not quite – 'suspended in the air' may've been a better description.

The thug crashed against a wall and onto the floor with a loud thud. He didn't move anymore. And that's when the brunet allowed himself to breath in relief.

His world regained normal colors and Issei looked down at his fist. Bloodied fist, redder than it ever had been. Issei wasn't one to get into fights.

"…D-Dude… did I really do that…?"

Nobody answered. Still reeling from the hits he got before, the doubt somewhat dissolved in the back of his mind. The cuts and bruises on his knuckles had more of his attention anyway.

Just as he was about to support himself up, to search for his Ayame and make sure he was okay, a hand was stretched towards him.

He raised his fists in alarm, ready for action… but all fight in him went away when he saw.

Ayame was giving him a hand.

It didn't take much for Issei to smile again. He took it, and was up on his feet in no time.

"Hey… thanks bro."

The older Hyoudou stayed wordless as Issei stood as straight as him. Despite the injuries all over his visible skin, he didn't seem to mind, and Issei held back from asking if he needed an ambulance. There was a strong attitude in his brother that was hard to miss. Strong, lively. When was the last time his bro seemed lively?

"…I don't remember asking for help," said Ayame while looking away. "But I probably suffered short-term memory loss from the beating. Thanks."

Issei put both hands behind his head. He showed a smirk. "Ahhh, don't make me blush, Ayame. I just saw a cranky lady throwing hands with some punks, and it turns out it's just my big 'sis' manning up for a change. Made me so proud I almost cried."

Ayame grumbled. He spit saliva mixed with blood on the ground, and licked his teeth.

"Yes, my name is feminine, and it's the funniest shit ever," he murmured with bad humor. "Do save your terrible jokes for later. We have other matters to attend to."

He said so while pointing at a certain direction. Issei turned his head.

There, behind the disconcerted crowds of people, was a police car stationed. Two officers got out from it, and walked towards the siblings.

"Oh," muttered Issei.

"Yes, oh indeed," followed up Ayame. "This is rather fun."

Issei couldn't decipher if Ayame was being sarcastic or one of his screws had gotten looser than usual. Maybe it was both. Didn't matter. His bro was fine, in the end.


- ~DxD~ -

The day was coming to an end. Lights began shining across the city in a beautiful spectacle of glitters. Their shine could only be surpassed by that of the stars in the firmament, dozens and hundreds of them in number, slightly hidden by a mass of rainclouds steadily moving over the city. The weather was colder than usual.

In the calm evening, Ayame and Issei stood side by side in front of a police station. Not many people were around, except the siblings themselves and a few officers coming and going from the precinct, stealing curious glances at the teenagers that not so long ago were arrested. Issei was holding onto his trusty bike.

The police didn't beat around the bush and took them into custody after the fight. Hours of fierce questioning and fiercer scolding followed – the officers obviously wanted to make sure they weren't criminals themselves. In the end, they were allowed to step out with their freedom intact.

Ayame was surprisingly convincing when lying about his age. With him bluffing as a young adult, it saved them both the trouble of having their parents find out.

The real criminals in question were caught red-handed with their drugs, so they weren't getting out anytime soon. The girl—Himiko—was taken to the hospital by her parents.

Everything was fine… or that was what Issei told himself in an attempt to not strangle Ayame out of spite. Besides, the police station was just behind. He didn't want to get in jail for real.

"Dude," said Issei calmly. "Are ya, like, retarded or somethin'?"

Ayame didn't look at him.

"Depends on what type of retardation we're talking about," he answered. "Whatever my affliction may be, it is leagues better than the uncontrollable urge to sexually harass women you show like a trophy. At least I'm not a deviant loser."

Issei chuckled drily.

"No, no, don't change the subject. Ya throw down with actual criminals in broad daylight and don't expect me to say yer retarded?" commented Issei, and his sarcasm seemed to transform into sourness. "I really wanna say yer a crazy son of a bitch. But mom is the best person in the world and I ain't calling her names she don't deserve just cuz yer a dickhead."

Issei's head dropped as he said that. He sighed.

"Ugh, mom… she's gonna kill us. Kill us dead, I tell ya. She's gonna hang us by the balls when she gets wind of this."

"Can't be hung from something you don't have…" murmured Ayame.

"The fuck didja say?"

The older brother shook his head and groaned with discomfort.

"I said she won't know. She doesn't need to know, so keep quiet. We can agree to keep this a secret and nobody will get on our case."

A few seconds of silence passed. Then, Issei made something like a frustrated gesture, gaping in disbelief.

"That's like… the stupidest reassurance I've ever heard," complained the younger brother. "Dude, our mom is in the police. Chief Inspector Hyoudou, remember? She ain't no small fry and someone's gonna tell her sooner or later. We're so fucked…"

In the few hours Issei had spent locked in, his opinion of the police had broadened a lot.

Japanese law enforcement was intense. He had had an idea, considering how little he thought about crime in his home city. But there was a difference between feeling safe because the police was going to protect him and being absolutely fucking scared those same nice officers would interrogate him, rebuke the shit out of him, and then put Issei behind bars.

Suddenly he felt kind of sad. His mama had taken him to visit the police station many times when he was a babe. Everyone seemed so nice, so upright. But in that innocent experience they'd skipped the part where they were utterly ruthless with criminals. It was… obvious, yes, but not any less unpleasant when he was on the receiving end.

On top of that…

"Besides, how in Satan's name are ya plannin' on hidin' this?"

Issei said so while gesturing at Ayame. Or, more specifically, at Ayame's face.

The younger brother had taken a couple of good hits to the face. He was a bit scrapped, and his clothes, somewhat dirty, but nothing too grave.

Ayame, who'd been fighting for more time and against two opponents, looked like shit.

His face was the most damaged part. There was gauze on his swollen cheek. More gauze hid his left eye a bit. Some other spots were bruised and uncovered. On his pale, pale skin, they stood out so much it was actually icky to look at.

Issei felt fidgety. His brother had a very feminine face, so it was kind of like seeing an injured woman. He didn't like the idea or the mental image.

Ayame shrugged. Then, he moaned in pain, and put a hand on his cheek. Apparently, having his face make out with two fists at the same time cracked his jawbone. Or that was what the doctors said in disbelief when they patched him up, saying that he should've been in much worse condition from the beating.

"I'm fine," said Ayame with a muffled voice, before rephrasing himself to "It's fine. I'll tell Mother I had a fight and got roughed up. She'll probably be in a bad mood, but she's used to it by now."

Issei rolled his eyes and looked away, downcast. "…Yeah. Ya were always coming back from school with bruises, so what's the problem with a few more? Fuckin' asshole of a brother. I thought you'd grown up from that shit."

The older teenager reacted dismissively at Issei's commentary. He waved a hand and looked away.

"Mother doesn't deserve it. But it's the lesser evil. The other option is to speak the truth and worry her even more. If you have any brilliant solution, then do share it now."

There was some reason in the brunet's words. For now, both knew better than to invoke their mother's anger by having her know they participated in a crime, even if it was to stop it. Issei was still angry, worried, disoriented. But the problem was solved.

Still…

"Next time, don't interfere in my business."

…Ayame insisted on sounding like a retard!

Issei felt the urge to punch his sibling. He resisted, barely.

"Trust me pal. The last thing I wanna do is get involved in dangerous shit that will get me friggin' killed," mumbled the younger teen. "But I ain't sitting on my ass if my idiot brother risks his life and I gotta help him."

"Your help was helpful—forgive the redundancy—but nobody asked for it," shot back Ayame. "Whatever I do and whoever I do it with doesn't concern you. I deal my problems and you deal with yours."

Issei snorted.

"Yer really one confident snowflake, ain't ya, bro? "

Ayame slowly craned his neck, moving his head towards Issei. Issei did the same. Both siblings locked sight with each other.

Neither of them said anything. Then-

"Perverted trash."

"Gay boy."

The insults were murmured at the same time. They were silent for a little more, and their stares acquired some intensity.

"I'm not gay, dipshit."

"I just love women a lot!"

More seconds passed. They slightly recoiled from each other, as if disgusted from the physical proximity. They steeled themselves and spoke again.

"Peeking on women is a crime."

"You'll never get a girlfriend if yer a jackass!"

Issei bit his lip. Ayame's uninjured eye began twitching.

"Virgin wimp."

"EDGELORD!"

The back and forth of insults met its end in the form of dry silence.

A blush crept over Issei's cheeks. He bit his lip and covered his hand with both hands, groaning.

Ayame simply cupped his bandaged chin. All irritation seemed to vanish as he entered in a pensive state.

"…Edgelord," muttered Ayame. "What's an edgelord?"

Issei groaned even louder. He rubbed his face violently. After a few seconds he moved his hands away, showing his brother a nasty look with strangely glassy eyes.

"…Bitch. Yer a massive bitch, Ayame," snarled the younger teen. "Ya don't hit below the belt and go on your merry fuckin' way like that."

'Virgin' was the one adjective Issei didn't want describing him. His closeness with women in general was already garbage. He didn't need anyone reminding him.

"Answer the question," said Ayame, unfazed by his brother's crisis. "What's an edgelord? Is it an insult?"

"Ya gotta be bullshittin' me." Issei stopped grumbling, and now his irritated face had a hint of tiredness. "Search it on the internet. You'll see it fits you like ring on the goddamn finger."

At the mention of 'finger', Issei flipped off Ayame.

Ayame pouted, or at least, he tried despite his swollen, wrapped face. He didn't follow his train of thought any further.

They walked away from the station and into slowly darkening streets. Both remained silent at the beginning. Time passed, and uncomfortable with the lack of conversation, Issei decided to break the ice.

"Hey, bro," murmured the teen. After trailing off a little, he continued. "Ya were real brave back there. Seriously. So, eh… thanks. Thank ya for steppin' up and gettin' those bastards behind bars."

Ayame turned his head a bit. It was hard to discern his expression under all those wrappings.

"Why?" His question was quickly followed by a clarification. "A few moments ago you were going on long tirades about how stupid my decision was, and how stupid I was by proxy. What's up with this change of stance?"

Issei massaged the back of his head. He looked away and sighed.

"I still think it was stupid. But that ain't the point. Dude, yer my brother. Seeing you getting' hurt is horrible for me."

Ayame stayed mute at Issei's response. The younger brother waited after a brief pause, and then spoke.

"…I wanted to thank ya," he repeated, staring towards the ground. "If you hadn't stopped those idiots, they would've done horrible things to that girl. Ya really saved her bro. Yer a hero."

Issei said so while smiling at Ayame, giving him thumbs up.

Ayame's face seemed to contort along with the bandages. He shifted weirdly, taking a deep breath.

"And what if I told you that saving the girl was just a nice coincidence?" questioned the brunet. "What if I said I just wanted to fight against those criminals?"

Issei snorted, mumbling words like 'idiot' under his breath.

"Then I'd say yer just makin' excuses to do the right thing. Yer the kind of guy who'd never admit he's actually a good person, and will think all kinds of roundabouts to convince anyone and their cat he ain't. Then you'll run behind everyone's backs and be the goody-two-shoes."

The little brother rubbed his nose. He made a happy sound, something like "huh", as if he was proud of something.

"Me? I ain't got the time for mental gymnastics. If yer tryin' to seem like a cold-blooded scumbag, then lemme tell yer doin' a horrible job at it."

He chuckled lightheartedly. His steps became a bit quicker, shoes squeaking against the asphalt.

"It's a bit irritating when my bro's all moody and antisocial. But at least he's someone that'll always have my back."

Issei pointed at his mouth.

"Doesn't matter what kind of rubbish comes out of 'ere", he told Ayame.

Then, he pointed at his chest.

"What really matters is what you have here."

Issei let his hand fall and the silence linger. Internally, he was a bit proud of his speech he made in the spur of the moment. Ayame didn't look really eager to answer, but he seemed to think it over. After a short while, the older brunet shook his head, whispering unintelligible things in a low voice.

They continued their walk.

Night had finally fallen. The siblings strolled throughout lonely parts of the city. The streetlights flickered to life before the darkness became too thick. Far away, Issei could see skyscrapers shining. Somehow, the lack of people felt accentuated with the bright sights and the silence.

The solitude wasn't too weird. Ayame and Issei were in the older parts of Kuoh, away from the hustle and bustle of the commercial district. Aside from the occasional stray cat or the businessman coming from work, it was simply empty.

A person from a loud place like Tokyo might've found the quiet too eerie. The brothers didn't. Practically born in the countryside, they were used to desolate places like this one. It was the kind of peacefulness they grew up with.

Yet, in spite of being in a familiar environment, it still was… different.

Changed. Tainted.

Dangerous.

Issei felt shifty. At first the feeling began like that restlessness someone experienced when they forgot an important detail. Then, it morphed, a different kind of fear. He remembered walking past mannequins in clothing stores and getting the same unease-

-Something was different.

Everything looked the same, the same streets he walked by, the same city he grew up in and loved.

But something was changed.

"Ah…"

Ayame sighed. It felt forced, shaky.

Issei twirled his head quickly. He wasn't the only one feeling it.

"B-Bro…"

Ayame grabbed his left shoulder. His eyes darted at unimportant places.

An implicit message hovered in the air. The answer was there as well.

Danger. But it was so strange, so removed from what they understood as normal danger… they could not even talk about it. Translating something so alien into human speech felt impossible as much as it felt necessary.

Something was out of place. Issei felt it before, some time ago. It wasn't something he'd normally perceive with his originally human senses. But he was human no longer. And so it resonated with him, almost at an instinctual level that didn't even feel like his own instinct.

Hate. Opposition. Enemy.

Jumbled words sprung in his mind. A poor attempt at giving cohesion to these strange feelings, unfamiliar, inhuman.

The bulk of his mind couldn't rationalize it. Only a tiny part of him knew. Strangely, this part felt as unfamiliar as the threat it bothered Issei about.

Ayame and Issei stopped walking.

The moon was hidden by clouds. It probably was going to rain.

Issei didn't detect the phenomenon at first. He felt something wrong, but couldn't—or wouldn't—pinpoint its cause. Then, he saw. His brain probably chose to push the realization aside, in a dark corner of his mind. Maybe, he was trying to preserve mental peace, at least for a few seconds.

Two figures stood in the distance. They were at the end of the street, highlighted in full by the streetlights, almost like actors appearing on stage.

One was a middle-aged man with black hair and beard. He wore a gray trench coat. His pants and shoes, both black, blended in with the night, as if they weren't there. He had a fedora, tilted to hide his face.

At his side was a woman.

She also had a trench coat, dark brown in color, and much more revealing. It hugged her upper body, with the collar wide an open to show a great cleavage. She wore miniskirt of matching color. Her black heeled shoes made a point of her beautiful legs. They were long, uncovered, glistening with slight dampness and the white streetlight. Her hair was an unnatural blue, falling on her shoulders, and covering one of her amber eyes.

Nobody said anything.

A pause. It felt like years of waiting. Then, a low rumble of a voice spoke.

"Oh?" said the man, caressing his chin. "I didn't expect to find a Devil walking so carefree at night. He looks too relaxed despite stepping where he's not allowed as well…"

Chills ran down Issei's spine. 'Devil'. He didn't want to hear that word. It was directed to him. Being the center of attention wasn't good. Not in this situation.

The woman hummed. Her voice was a calm yet cold melody. "It's certainly strange. If I had to guess, his nonchalance is proof of a 'stray' without a master and leash to keep him from going too far."

"…The probability does exist. You, boy," called the man as he directed an accusing finger towards Issei. He flinched, as if someone pointed a gun at him. "Who is your master? What family is he or she from?"

Words got stuck in Issei's throat. The magic word was 'Rias Gremory', but he was scared of what would happen if he responded. He was scared. He wanted to run home and see his parents.

He was sweating. Was his nervousness too obvious? He looked guilty of a crime he didn't know he had committed.

"No master, then?" His words acquired a cold edge. "I suppose he hasn't been consumed by the evil piece, yet. It's no wonder he looks normal. He must be recent."

"It's written all over his face, Dohnaseek. He's trembling all over, about to break down from fear. We don't have nearly enough time to be checking up on every single Stray we find on the street, and I think we have all the clues we need."

She took some steps forward, eyeing Ayame from tip to toe. "What about the human?"

The man, 'Dohnaseek', hummed at the question. Tense seconds passed, and he spoke.

"Knock him out and erase his memories. I find mindless killing distasteful – we're not murderous animals." He advanced too. "You can break one or two of his limbs if he gets too feisty. I'll take care of the stray myself."

Ayame made a funny sound.

The woman tilted her head, hand on her hip. She stared with a detached look.

"I was thinking the same thing," she replied.

For a moment Issei imagined another night very similar to this one. Maybe it was his imagination, but he could almost hear Yuuma maniacally laughing in the distance. He almost wanted to laugh too. How could someone be so unlucky?

He wished to have a guardian angel watching his back now. Then he remembered he was a devil, and wondered if Lucifer would ascend from hell to save him if he prayed long enough.


~Author's Note~

That's all for today.

I apologize if the chapter felt boring compared to the previous ones. Things will be heating up as time goes on, and as you can see, Issei and Ayame aren't going to have a break anytime soon.

There were some general inquiries that I didn't quite answer, so I will give you insight on what you may end up seeing:

-"Is Ayame going to have a Sacred Gear? What will it be?"

The answer is yes. But as to which one? You'll have to wait and see. But, if you pay attention to the details, you'll see that it's already acting up. It's up to you to find out before I reveal it directly!

-"Is there going to be romance?"

Probably. I will take my time to make it feel real and natural if it comes to it.

Also, just because a character flirts or has serious feelings towards other doesn't mean there is going to be chemistry. Until it isn't specified, two characters aren't going to be together. I say this so that people don't feel disappointed if there is signs of romance but there actually isn't any.

-"Is there going to be explicit content (Violence, sexual themes)?"

Explicit sexual scenes, if any, are going to be skipped (with fade-to-black). It's not my thing. However, violence and gore will be there in certain amounts. At some point (probably by the end of the first arc), I'll change this story's rating to M, as violence will only get more graphic.

With that, I think I have covered the questions that bug people the most.

Also, I know that my story isn't the best, and that I still have long ways to go. If there's something you don't like, then please, please, tell me what it is, and tell me why you think it's bad. If you don't give me actual reasons to complain for something I wrote, I'll assume you simply don't like the story, and deem your review as next to useless for me to improve.

Please, don't bother reviewing if you're just going to throw a tantrum instead of giving constructive criticism. It's a waste of energy for you to write, and it's a waste for me to read.

With that said, I will retire for now. Until next time!

(29/1/2020)