Dragon's Breath

I watched, now dreading the hypnotic sway of her brilliant crimson hair, and suddenly recalled, petrified, the passage from Revelations 12:9.

And the great dragon was hurled down—that ancient serpent called the devil and Satan, the deceiver of the whole world. He was hurled to the earth, and his angels with him.


Chapter One: Somewhere to Call Home

I sat atop a marginally slanted rooftop with a pile of literature at my side: a Pocket Bible, an old, partially torn cookbook, half a newspaper, and really whatever I could get my hands on. Even I can only handle so much psychiatry. So, whenever the evening checkups and recurring assessments got to be too much, I'd flee up here to my haven, the ward rooftop, a momentary sanctuary in the repetitiveness of my grueling day-to-day activities.

Truth be told, I was probably damaging the expensive solar panels underneath, but my spot was comfy, and I wasn't planning on giving it up.

It quickly became night, but I had no trouble reading the small, printed text.

Matthew 6:28

And why take ye thought for raiment?

Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow;

they toil not, neither do they spin:

"G… r… o… w…"

I closed the book, trying to resist the urge to look around. My caretaker, Doctor Sakura, would often joke and say I sometimes ponder on things less befitting a young man and more of an old croak, focusing too much on the minor specifications of life.

Maybe I wouldn't if He'd let me.

"Damn, where do you think he ran off to now?" I picked up on the echo of tired, frustrated voices, coming from down below. Two guards—yellow jackets, Sakura calls them—walked alongside the fence, bickering at each other. Their target of civil discussion being yours truly. "Probably took off, likely with em' crappy books. Jeez, he creeps me out."

"He's a real freak, that boy." The other yellow jacket loudly coughed and then spat something he'd been chewing into the nearby bushes.

"At least he's of them 'discreet types', am-I-right?" The shorter one laughed, as they continued on their routine pathway, while I continued to separately watch from way above. "At least the hospital'll be getting' rid of him soon, huh?" He loudly cackled, seemingly without a care in the world.

"Damn straight, brother." The taller one replied. "And I can't wait."

I crouched, perched over the edge like some sort of bird of prey, and felt a frown rearrange itself across my lips. Off in the distance, the courtyard sprawled out in several directions, over a couple of yards, walled off by the depressing sight of another sprawl of tall, chained-wired fencing.

"D… octor!"

It came, not with a gradual, shadowy voice, but a snarl. An angry, irritated, deep rumble like that of a violent storm or a hurricane. Something wholly inhuman.

The brightness of a flashlight covered my back, revealing me to the world. I turned around, not surprised that she had found me. The wielder jumped, startled. I stared back, wincing from the brightness of the light, speculating how long she'd continue to do the same.

Eventually, she sighed and put away the light that had been assaulting my eyes. Understanding that my scare was unintentional, she showed off a great smile, highlighted by the gentle ruby of her lips.

"Are you really about to make me crawl over there?" She asked despite already knowing the answer.

With an almost meticulous pacing, she took off her expensive-looking heels and began to make her way across the slanted solar panels. As she drew nearer, I extended out a hand to help, assisting in sitting her comfortably besides me.

Her hands were very soft, the kind I assumed you'd typically associate with a mother.

Despite the profession, she was crazy good-looking, frighteningly so even. She had long, hazel hair, the kind you'd see on the cover of fashion magazines, and perfectly tanned skin that I was sure had to have been kissed by the French Riviera. Under the traditional white lab coat, she was wearing a pink mohair cowl-neck sweater, which barely reached the top of what I imagined to be caramel thighs, hidden only by tight jean shorts that did little to dissuade my imagination.

Doctor Sakura's first words to me are simple. In a whisper, notched somewhere between nervousness and excitement, she says to me, "Nice spot." When I crack a light smile instead of reflexively saying, "took you long enough to find it," she gives me an affirming nod.

When you've got a voice in your head that isn't your own, it's best to keep things under wraps. Annoyance, anger, exhaustion, and other emotions can have permanent condos setup on people's expressions if they're repetitively indicative towards others, with timeshares set up for their less-than-desirable friends.

"So," she pondered, glancing at the stack of books I had kept nearby, "what're you reading this fine evening, Issei?"

I passed her a Bible I'd been skimming over. With visible interest, she flipped through the small pages. "Where'd you get this?"

"One of the guards had it."

She raised an eyebrow and passed the Holy Book back to me. "Did you steal it?"

I knew what was coming, and we sat there in silence for a while before I admitted a prejudice. "I feel like that's a mean way of putting it."

"That so?" Her eyes were those of an investigator, one preemptively cross-examining a troublesome witness. "Issei," her expression screamed of bitter disappoint, "you're killing me."

The doctor blinked, and I settled on the whistle of a passing breeze as I tried my best to find a sufficient reply to her vocalized dissatisfaction.

"Sorry."

The ensuing quiet was awkward, albeit frank, and I struggled, internally, to find some semblance of grounds to stand. She often told me I was far from a bad kid, but I wasn't completely confident in that diagnosis.

"I know." She saved me from the growing embarrassment, promptly asking, "how about we make a bet?"

"No."

"Oh, don't be like that." Sakura flashed me another one of those showy smirks, as if it were okay for her to purposefully treat me like I was a child. "You beat me, even once, and I'll let you stay up here for the rest of the night."

I contemplated making a jump it. Who cares if I break a few bones in the process?

"Issei. You're talking out loud again."

I exhaled, signaling defeat.


Her office was small and cozy, and I assumed it was arranged similarly to her own living arrangements; the kind of room that let you know, firsthand, that the occupant wasn't going to be too belligerent during your mid-day consultation.

"It's a good thing I like you." The good doctor brought her queen out. It was the second game, and my plans for an all-nighter on the rooftops had gone the way of my three paws, two rooks, and a knight. I went with the other knight and felt a shadow of impending doom as her bishop slithered along diagonally. The stem of her pen swung around and pointed at me like the barrel of a gun. "Still nervous about tomorrow?" The pen returned to her front pocket.

"T… o… m… o… r… r… o… w…"

I leaned back in the cushioned chair and placed an elbow on my knee. The good doctor wasn't quite ready to let me off the hook just yet and skimmed the other bishop across the board for a completely different attack on my king.

"You can always tell, huh?" Generally, it was moments such as this when I questioned why the other one kept silent. I could've really used the help, but the voice seemed to only want to cooperative with me when it deemed it appropriate to do so.

It was quiet in the room as the psychologist continued to study me. Doctor Sakura's mahogany eyes flickered in the half-light of the lamp behind us. She shook her head. "Well, I haven't been your psychologist for over a year for zilch, Issei."

"Right." I tried focusing on the game board, rather than dwell too much on my own bad habit of addressing her chest as if it had an identity of its own.

"Case-and-point, you're finally graduating from being a patient in this gloomy place, to being an actual free teenager." I made a face, unknowingly. "And then, I'll be happy to finally see my favorite kiddo becoming a prominent, healthy member of society." Her gaze dropped back to the board. "Checkmate."

I looked at the assembly of courtly pieces and placed a finger on my king, casually toppling him over and mourning his premature death. "You win." I sighed.

"I'm proud to say I've done my research on finding the perfect foster family for you. The Hyoudous are a wonderful couple, Issei. You're going to love them. Trust me."

Two days prior of this conversation, Doctor Sakura informed me that a young family from the town of Kuoh, despite my difficulties, was fully willing to accept me as a "nonconsanguineal" adult into an offspring role of their household.

I was finally getting adopted.


Monday Morning. The beginning of Autumn. Today was the big day.

Their names were Gorou and Miki Hyoudou—at glance, a seemingly pleasant couple—and they were both genuinely overwhelmed with happiness to be finally meeting me. Mrs. Hyoudou ran up to me for a tight embrace, her charcoal coat billowing after her. Mr. Hyoudou was quieter than his significant other, but joyful all the same.

As we talked, I realized the voice had gone quiet. Slowly, I felt reassured that everything was going to be all right.

Doctor Sakura's goodbyes to me were short and bittersweet, and I was soon off. From the backseat of my foster parents' Hyundai, I watched the morning clouds roll by, realizing that this was a brand-new chapter to my life.

It took a few hours to get the three of us to Kuoh. I read Frankenstein, the only novel I was allowed to keep, as we drove across the Kyoto Prefecture, even though I had an inkling that Mr. and Mrs. Hyoudou were a little saddened about my lack of oratory since the hospital, and I decided that the majority of Japan consists of flashy tall buildings and far too many bicyclists. I was still reading as we pulled up to our destination.

Thus the poor sufferer tried to comfort others and herself. She indeed gained the resignation she desired. But I, the true murderer, felt the never-dying worm alive in my bosom, which allowed no consultation.

Mr. Hyoudou carefully parked the big family SUV in front of an impressive two-story terrace residence and cut off the engine. "We've arrived! Welcome to your new home, Issei." He announced.

"But I just finished the first section…" He gave his wife a funny look, and the two burst out laughing. We figured not to make things awkward, and it was collectively appreciated. I unclipped my seat belt, tossed Mary Shelley's hit piece back into my duffle bag, and glanced outside at the surrounding neighborhood. "Looks like a nice town."

Mrs. Hyoudou stepped out of the Hyundai onto the outside pathway, stretching her back and flipping her ponytail over her shoulder. Her petite build threw me off, as I'd never met a smaller woman in my entire life. "Oh, isn't it just the sweetest place? I've lived here most of my life, and Goro moved in about seven years ago."

Mr. Hyoudou's expression brightened even more as he fixed his glasses. "I was a bit of a freelance writer back in the day," he grinned at me with the full set of a severe underbite, "before meeting Sachiko, that is."

I strapped the duffle bag over my shoulder and closed the door to the four-wheeler. "What did you write about?"

"Good question." He moved from the driver's side of the automobile to join his wife's side. "I found myself engrossed with topics relating to the immigration and education systems of overseas countries, mainly the United States. I wrote a fair number of op-ed pieces, comparing foreign issues with the country's very own." He broke out into a hearty chuckle, reaching out and holding his wife by the waist. "My stuff was fairly controversial, and I received a bit of crap from the older generations."

"Oh, you're being over dramatic." She reached and pinched his cheek, unintentionally causing him to laugh even more.

He glanced back at me and suddenly asked. "How about you, Issei? Did you ever get in a little trouble?"

"Goro!" Mrs. Hyoudou playfully spanked her husband upside his head. "What are you doing, asking him such a question?"

My expression didn't change, as I tightened the blue strap. "I never got in trouble."

He watched me with great interest as Mrs. Hyoudou left for a moment. "Thinking you're not in trouble and not being in trouble are two different things, Issei."

I didn't say anything, but only watched as he left to join Mrs. Hyoudou at the house. I glanced up at the residence's light blue exterior, the balcony on the second floor, and its tiled roof. That's when I realized that people, walking by, were staring at me.

I waved. They didn't wave back.

Mrs. Hyoudou called me inside. I'd never seen the inside of a genuine house before, and the realization that I wasn't comfortable being out of my element suddenly hit me like a truck. The entry hallway led into a spacious living room, which shared space with an open tiled kitchen at the side. I also noticed the doorway next to the staircase, leading up to the second floor, was a washroom. A large flat screen television hung from the wall adjacent from a large, spacious sofa.

My uneasiness must have been showing, and she tapped my shoulder, instructing me to come follow her up the elevating steps. "Upstairs is your bedroom unless you'd like to later switch somewhere else. It's right next to the upstairs bathroom."

I stopped in my tracks and nearly gasped. "You have two bathrooms?"

"Crazy, right?" She winked with the purest intentions.

I nodded and trailed her into the space that would be my new room. Unlike the chamber that I lived in for a good year, this was a room. The walls were painted a sprightly sky-blue that reminded me of early morning. I had a wooden desk and two spruce bookcases; the floor was covered by grey carpet; and I had a closet and queen-sized bed with blue and white sheets.

"Do you like it?" She asked.

"Yeah." I sat my duffle bag right by the chair accompanying my desk. "This… this is super awesome, thanks."

"I'm so glad you like it!" She smiled and clapped her hands together. "Take as much time as you need to adjust and get comfortable. I know we're asking you for a lot, so thanks for being a good sport about it. Lunch will be ready, downstairs, shortly."

While she spoke, I looked through the closet, only to find a peculiar looking uniform hanging from the nearest clothes hanger.

The blazer was a dark grey, approaching black, with white accents running down the front break. Underneath rested a white, long-sleeved button-down shirt with vertical linings, a black ribbon for the collar, and matching dark pants. At the bottom corner, nearby my own laundry basket, rested a pair of brown dress shoes and a brown carry bag.

"Hey, Mrs. Hyoudou, what's this thing here?" I pointed, addressing the overtly fancy elephant in the room.

Immediately, my foster mom seemed unreasonably delighted about my sudden discovery. "Oh, yay!" She cried out, nearly jumping with joy. "Issei, do you like how it looks? Starting next week, this'll be your new school uniform!"

Despite the years I spent trying to conceal my emotions, I stuttered, hard. "W-What?"

"Doctor Sakura instructed us to enroll you in high school, so next week you'll be a proud second-year student of Kuoh Private Academy, the best school around! She assisted in your admission, so there's no need for an entrance exam. How great is that?"

I just sort of stood there, dumbfounded. There were more than one hundred thousand foster homes across the islands of Japan, and Doctor Sakura just stuck me with this one.


Evening arrived, and I couldn't get inside the bathroom. I tried opening it the way Mrs. Hyoudou instructed; I jiggled it, lightly, and struggled to get it to turn in the other direction, but no go. I took a break to pace around the hallway, trying my best not to vent out a sea of anger towards an inanimate object. I, suddenly, thought about just kicking it wide open, but I wasn't too sure how well my foster parents would take that.

The thought grated me, and I decided to give it one, final "college try". Feeling victorious, I gripped the lever with a tad more force, this time around, and pulled.

Clang—!

My optimism was short-lived, and I felt especially stupid, gazing down at the broken knob resting between my calloused fingers. Stricken with panic, I glanced around for the random, sudden appearance of an angry parent, only further validating my sense of guilt. I swiftly opened the broken door to get inside as fast as possible.

Best to forget the incident for the time being. Slowly, I got undressed for the first, genuine shower in my new home, moving on to address the man in the mirror. The young man who stared back at me didn't look Japanese. More akin to a gaijin, his features were equally harsh—a hooked, feint scar resided just under his brow and lower lip—and undistinguishable, except for the blue of his eyes, which moved up to a thick head of darkened curly dirt-blond hair.

I took in a breath and flexed, hardening the developed muscles residing in my neck and shoulders. I had trained a lot during my time spent at the hospital, whenever I wasn't reading instead. Doctor Sakura often commentated I was always in a sort of frenzy, never maintained. I'd cycle for hours on hours, followed shortly by lifting weights—the last I got to, in secret, was thirty reps of a barbell, overhead press, carrying 350 pounds.

I enjoyed the burning pain. The idea of constantly improving. In truth, it kept me occupied. I didn't have to be reminded about my circumstances.

The shower was quick and uneventful—I had hot water at the hospital—and I comfortably ventured back to my new room. There, I sat, lazily, in the chair by my duffle bag, and broke out Frankenstein to continue from where I'd left off in the car ride.

As I flipped through the pages, I turned to where I'd secretly jotted down the good doctor's number, having spotted it on one of the business cards she kept in her office. I stared at the scribbled numbers for a while, then looked over at my closet. I had never closed it, and now found myself peering inside at the school uniform my foster mom had been gushing over from earlier.

"Why the heck not…" I spoke to nobody, and abandoned Victor, his Creature, and the number, once more, pulling out the hanger that supported the cluster of extravagant items. I picked out the white shirt, dropping the rest of the catalogue over my bed, and began fitting myself into the fabric of my future school uniform right before…

Shhh—rippp—!

The threaded, posh streams of the shirt tore in two, right before my eyes, buckling under the pressure of my sizable physique. "Oh, hell…"

At least I now knew the shirt wasn't my size.


Downstairs, I glanced back to the clock sitting high above the living room wall: 11:30. She'd be done with work for the day; we'd always play chess around seven or at least eight. I glanced around for the home phone, finally discovering it by the slice of wall attached to the kitchen counter. I'd never used one before, but I'd read a TV catalogue before and pushed one of the little buttons that had a tiny phone image on it.

I was rewarded with a chirp and slow ring and was immediately homesick.

"Hello?"

"If you could look out your window, across all of Kyoto, you would see a young, yet ruggedly handsome, student-to-be safely tucked away in his new home."

There was a pause. "Are you okay?"

Evidently, I was in trouble. "Is that a problem?"

Another paused, followed by the sound of her sweet laughter. "No, not at all, but how on earth did you get this number?"

"Uh… the internet." I reached over and pulled up a chair from the counter to sit. "I… yeah, I just wanted to call you and talk about, you know, books and stuff, like we usually do…" There was even another pause, and I started getting a little miffed. "Sakura…"

"Issei."

It was a short word, but it had a lot behind it. A jolt of pain ravaged the muscle that supported my body's blood flow, and I felt like crushing the cheap plastic emitting the soft tone of her breath. "Hello?"

"Stop." Though there was no physical way, I swear I could feel Sakura looking down on me from miles away. "You're a bright, gifted seventeen-year-old boy, finally reaping the rewards of society, and I'm an old, outdated physician. I know you wanted something between us… but we're years apart, and you were my patient, Issei. Your extraordinary case has finally been settled. You're… free."

I looked up at the living room clock, heart heavy, and tried not to sniffle. "I just…"

"No, Issei…" The irritation was returning to her voice. "…Do me a favor, one last time. Please." Her crossness dissipated, and I promptly listened. "Give this new life of yours a chance, one week at least, and in due time you'll forget all about me. Okay? Do you think you can do that for me?"

I failed to respond, cooped up with far too many emotions for my own good.

"Thanks, Issei. Goodbye and good luck. I know you're going to be just fine."

"I'm getting that." I hung up. There wasn't any reason to argue. I'd lose. The longest silence since I'd arrived at my new home. By the time I'd returned the phone to its stationed port, it was already late, and the woman I had feelings for was long gone. I had to smile and shake my head, ignoring the tears.

I watched the clock on the wall, thought of the ripped shirt on the bed, my foster parents peacefully asleep, and sighed.


The week flew by, and it was the first morning of school.

I awed at the sea of pink and white cherry blossom petals that flew overhead, shooting high into the bright sky. It was yet another hard reminder that I was in a completely different world.

Surrounding the school entranceway lay a wall of fixed stone brickwork that illuminated in the bright sunlight as if it were the gateway to Heaven itself. I could hear the bickering and socializing of the many classmates that surrounded me. I'd never actually been to a school before, no less a high school, so maybe that's why everyone kept shooting stares in my general direction.

Still, what was most puzzling to me, conversely, was that I'd yet to single out even one guy. Everywhere, in every nook-and-cranny, there were girls only, and I was suddenly starting to think that I was in the wrong place.

I shook my head, following the rest of the entourage, until someone eventually braved me. "Yo, Tarzan, you lost?" I watched as an easy-going guy around my age made his way across the sidewalk and approached my right, smiling wide enough to reveal his back teeth. His head was shaved clean, and he wore the school blazer unbuttoned.

"Depends," I answered. "Is this Kuoh Private Academy?"

"Nah, Sherlock, this is the gateway to Narnia."

I wished I understood the reference. "Mind if I tag along then?" I shrugged.

He scratched his eye, not totally uninterested, and kept up that wide, almost wolfish grin. "Hey, man, that's no problem at all! Welcome to paradise on earth. What's your name?"

"Issei." I paused mid-sentence. "Issei Hyoudou." Speaking my new, full name was going to have to get some getting used to. "How about you, wise guy?" I smiled, trying to catch on to the banter.

"Wise guy, yeah?" That got a laugh out of him. "I'm Matsuda, a second-year."

"Guess that means we're in the same boat."

His right eyebrow rose in a curve. "Oh, yeah? Dude, that's all you had to say! There's like a one-to-sixty ration of guys-to-chicks in this school. We need the all the manpower we can get!"

We strolled left, right towards the oversized school up ahead. It was a beautiful day, and the overhead structure shined from the direct sunlight and encompassed the entirety of my view, almost as if expressing its undeniable grandeur. It was less of what I imagined to be a school and more of what I assumed would be an exotic mansion. The campus also extended just beyond the main school building, and I glanced by at the other surrounding structures.

"Isn't this place like… overly fancy…?" I tried not to sound too blown away.

"Well, this used to be an all-girls school." He replied and stretched out his arms, which were considerably athletic. "That's why it's all sunshine and rainbows."

"That so?" I said, glancing at another passing group of beautiful girls. The obvious lack of male students was now making sense. "When did they decide to assign it co-ed?"

"Hmmm, like three years ago, maybe. I dunno."

As he talked, I studied this new, mysterious environment of mine. It was amazing to me just how many students were still walking to school. There were girls laughing and walking arm-in-arm, girls swinging their school bags in a desperate pursuit of momentum, and another male student. However, he was approaching us, rocking a pair of spectacles and a buttoned up dark school blazer.

I watched as Matsuda greeted him up with a unique sort of handshake and then pointed at me. "We finally got ourselves a trio of second years, my guy! The circle is now complete!"

I nodded, then introduced myself. "I'm Issei."

He did the same, and unlike Motohama, smiled like a normal human being. "I'm Motohama. This shmuck's only friend." His voice was remarkably poised, and I looked at him for a second more—unable to see the eyes behind his glasses.

"He's an asshole."

"I'd like to think myself as more of a 'well-mannered' asshole." He laughed and pointed towards the far end of the school. "I take it that you're skipping first hour?"

Matsuda smiled some more. "You know it!" He bumped my shoulder, passing on the invitation. "Issei, wanna join us?"

I was surprised by my classmate's hasty offer. "I, umm…"

"Sorry, he's a little too forward, huh?" He waited a moment, then sighed. "I guess he really is, since you're not talking."

"No, no, I… was just thinking." I awkwardly replied and shook my hands.

"Oh, okay." He grinned and gently slapped Matsuda on the back. "You should do that more often, then everyone won't think you're a such a moron."

"Hey, whatever, man!" He laughed. "The ladies still love me."

They were still curious if I wanted to join them, and after a jangled conversation of bluffs, evasions, challenges, and general nonsense, I gave in to the shared charisma of my newly discovered classmates and joined them in a secluded spot behind the hedges of the main building.

Motohama studied me for a moment and then asked. "So, Issei, are you some sort of gaijin?" Unlike his bald friend, I had the immediate feeling that Motohama was legitimately perceptive. "You're also jacked." He laughed and proceeded to sit up against the bark of a tree, enjoying the shade.

"Maybe," I replied while sitting down myself. "I've never met my real parents."

"Orphan; tragic." He shrugged and continued to smile. By that point, I'd noticed the pen and notepad in his hands. I'm sure he was aware of my staring, so he undid his blazer to confirm my suspicions. I noticed the press tag at once, a prized magnetic badge hung over his neck, and asked who he worked for. "Nobody," he yawned with gaping jaws. "I'm writing a book called Tig Ol' Bitties."

"Dude," Matsuda cupped both of hands up under his chest, "the amount of titties, shape-and-size, at this school…" His face twisted into one hell of a perverted smirk. "This place really is Nirvana."

"You two must be popular." I laughed.

"Only on a good day," Motohama smiled, "Trust me, it can be tough out here." He paused and then inclined his head a little. "As the grades go down, the number of guys go up, but girls still outnumber us by quite the margin." He stopped to adjust his glasses. "Here, the girls have all the authority, and we're stuck with the scraps."

I nodded and pointed. "But that still doesn't explain the pass."

He wrote something in his notepad and looked back at me. "Kuoh Times: Copy-editor."

"What's that?" I asked.

"Nothing interesting." He replied, pointing his pen at me. "How old are you, Issei?"

"Seventeen."

Upon hearing my answer, Matsuda suddenly grinned and reached into his blazer, pulling out a messy-looking rollup. "Since you're of age, you might as well. Right?" His smile grew even more wolfish. "Here," he said, offering the item to me.

I thought, for a moment, that there was a look of apprehension coming from Motohama, but the school reporter simply sighed and pushed back his glasses, declining to comment.

Matsuda ignored him and held it out to me, and suddenly, without warning, I was thrown into one of those definitive instants, a fork in the road. Here I was on my first day of school, ever, and it could quite possibly turn into my last. I had an idea to what it was. Back at the hospital, the yellow jackets were smoking tons of stuff whenever they had free time.

At that moment, I felt a weird mixture of panic and anticipation. Ever since my adoption, I'd been struggling to bury my unresolved feelings for Doctor Sakura. And now, with this cigarette in front of my face, everything, emotionally, poured back into my heart like a mountainside avalanche. By the time I'd returned to reality, Matsuda had already lit the lumpy little joint for me.

Perhaps it was the joint's glow, perhaps I just wanted to get as numb as possible, but, regardless of the reason, I inhaled. I took a nice lungful and turned my head upwards to stare at the puffy clouds passing by. For years now, a nameless, dreadful voice has drifted from within the deep confines of my very consciousness, as if angrily stirring from a great slumber. It speaks to me, every so often; sometimes it's advice, and sometimes it's a simple complaint or vocal disdain for its present surroundings.

However, ever since I've started living here—abandoning the haven of Doctor Sakura and the boundaries of the hospital—it's been awfully quiet. In that moment, between the puffs of hazy smoke and bright autumn sunlight, I wondered if I truly was crazy.

All of this was running through my head as the joint came back to me, and my sense of humor returned along with my sense of taste, and I realized, after three or four novice tokes, that I was smoking some really retrograde shit, and I wasn't feeling jack.

"What the hell," I said, "this is really awful stuff."

My classmate laughed and said, "Dude, that ain't THC. Sorry to disappoint."

Synthetic grass! I was tempted to jam the butt of the thing into the bald bastard's eye, maybe that'd show him! All this time, and I wasn't even smoking grass, but something that tasted like the toilet water from a public restroom.

It was just about then that I got the first rush. THC, DMZ, OJT— the letters didn't matter, I was stoned. Matsuda and Motohama suddenly looked like they were over nine feet tall and the trees above the courtyard seemed to press down on us; the light coming from the sky grew brighter, and bluer, and seemed to track as I wandered off to find something.

Whatever it was. I really needed to find it.

The scene was bad enough with a perfectly straight head; peripheral vision was the key to survival—you had to know what was happening all around you and never get out of range of at least one opening to run through when the attack came. Which was no place to be with a fuzzy head…

…What was I saying?!

My face felt like it was slowly turning to putty; with adrenaline up so high, for so long, that I knew I'd collapse soon as I'd reached my destination, wherever it might be. I aimed myself across the sidewalk and into the nearest door I could reach, where it suddenly occurred to me—how was I going to walk up the steps?

"KYAH!" I accidentally scared a girl, nearby, as I pushed through and practically stumbled onto the floor of the inside hallway. Honestly, I'd scream too. Who wouldn't be terrified of a crazy, lunatic gaijin running around on campus like a chicken with its head cut off.

Akin to said headless chicken, I found and then latched myself violently onto the stairwell leading upstairs, climbing on all fours like a literal primate. My head felt like it was close to exploding into a shower of chunky confetti, and with each upwards step I felt closer to puking my guts. I prayed that the male washroom was somewhere close by as I neared the top of the second floor, when, suddenly, the cries of my scared classmates shifted into joyous squeals and whispered fits of excitement and girlish shrieking.

"Hey, is that?"

"Oh my God, no way! It totally is! It's Big Sister Rias!"

"She's so beautiful and perfect in every way!"

"Wait, is she walking over to that crazy guy?"

"Holy crap, she is! No way!"

I took a deep breath, ignoring the surrounding ruckus, and stopped climbing. My hands felt cool against the wall. "I'm okay." I gasped and tried to laugh, but I think all I accomplished was a funny face, so I dipped my head back down and blinked to clear my vision.

"Are you alright?" The voice that suddenly spoke out to me was both seductive and soft, like the strings of a first-rate violin, and extraordinarily refined, imposing, and firm. I looked up from the steps, and it dawned on me that my temporary high had mysteriously cleared.

She looked at me, not so sure. "Do you want me to get the nurse?" She asked.

An angel. I blinked, but that's indeed what I was looking at. Standing at the edge of the steps, enclosed by an awed school body, was an unbelievably gorgeous figure, watching me with a pair of bright, hypnotic, ocean blue eyes. She wore the traditional school uniform, a white long-sleeved, button-down shirt with vertical linings that barely held up a pair of spherical, earth-shattering breasts, tied together by a black ribbon. Her beautiful European heritage, uncovered by exposed porcelain skin that was as white as snow, the rest hidden by a black cape rested over the shoulders, a matching button-down corset, and a vivid magenta skirt with white accents.

Gorgeous. Absolutely, unbelievably gorgeous. I had never seen a human being more mesmerizing, noble, and indescribable in my God given life, and I froze in awe.

She was tall and curvilinear, with slim proportions that were nothing like a normal student. Yet, what captivated me most was the deep, vibrant red—the crimson of her long hair, reaching all the way down to her sensual hips. Her long, crimson hair swayed gently with each graceful, elegant step downwards.

My breathing stopped as she drew nearer; I was close enough to where I could smell her incredible fragrance, stimulating like the pleasant weather of spring morning.

Suddenly, as she slowly revealed a blinding, dazzling smile—wooing the remaining passerby and I in a complete stir—a sudden sense of foreboding engulfed my heart like that of a dark storm, and I slowly began to fear her mortal beauty…

Mortality…

Something about my classmate… was not mortal…

I watched, now dreading the hypnotic sway of her brilliant crimson hair, and suddenly recalled, petrified, the passage from Revelations 12:9.

And the great dragon was hurled down—that ancient serpent called the devil and Satan, the deceiver of the whole world. He was hurled to the earth, and his angels with him.

"D… E… V… I… L…!"

The voice, suddenly returning, brassy and foreboding, bore deep into my skull, and I felt my knees buckle a little.

"Retreat, now…!"

It quickened and roared, endeavoring to return me to reality. But the next thing I knew—shocking everyone—the stranger stood on the final step before mine, crouching to somewhat gain a similarity in height, and leaned forward into my left ear, covering my nose with her fragrant crimson hair, and sweetly whispered…

"Welcome to Kuoh Private Academy," I felt a sharp pain of jolt, followed by a series of harsh chills rush down my back, "Sacred Gear Wielder."

Suddenly, as the light from the sun began to cover the adjoining stairway, it felt like I was in the turret of an unending castle. My eyes must have grown tired because, when I blinked, the devil's crimson hair had grown substantially brighter. I tried to focus, but the strain of something unknown tore apart my thoughts, making it feel like I was dragging sandpaper over my irises. I repeatedly blinked, but the image of my beautiful classmate remained steadfast.

Panic overtook me, and I shifted backwards, but she put out a tender hand and stilled me. It was only when the image shifted, and I heard the soft, intricate melody of her gentle voice again, that I suddenly realized that my strength had vanished. "That's it. Rest, now. You're going to be okay."

The figure stepped forward, her arms outstretched around my neck as the sweet, scented fragrance of strawberry jam swept the inside of my nose and her white long-sleeved, button-down uniform rose higher. I sagged a little, just as my head cushioned against the soft, fluffy padding of something very ample and elastic. God, they were soft.

Infinitely far, yet now, suddenly near. I was tenderly held in a warm, loving embrace.

Perhaps it was my lingering high; or possibly the soft, affectionate sensation of a woman; or maybe just the emotional drain thanks to my prior late outings; but my eyes forced themselves closed as my consciousness slowly faded into that of a deep, relaxing slumber, and the darkness encroached itself upon me.

Thus, on my first day of school, ever, I slept in the arms of a beautiful woman.

Lucky me, I guess.