Happy New Years!

...I wrote over a month ago, when this chapter was sent off to be edited. Sadly my dear editing monkeys— I mean, my dear friends who willingly take time to edit my crap were both too busy to actually do much to this.

It probably would have languished waiting for editing to finish eventually but someone on Ao3 had the sheer gall to assume this fic is abandoned. So I decided to just release this now and edit later. Maybe.

If you don't know what a Katahajime suplex is, there's a link to one in the notes at the end. (For FFN, it won't work, so feel free to google or find my fic on Ao3, SpaceBattles and/or SufficientVelocity). No, I'm not going to tell you why you might want to know what it is. Just read and find out.


"Isn't Sunday meant to be God's day of rest or something?" My tired voice rang loud through the chilled air. Normally, I was against disturbing the peace, but Devils don't deserve any. Besides, Himejima's flinch was more than worth it. "Shouldn't you be out kicking puppies and stealing little kids' souls while He isn't watching?"

For a split second, I saw the real Himejima. Hey, I know I look dead but you don't have to look at me like I'm a zombie. I won't be transforming into a magical girl either. Too bad that glimpse only lasted a second.

"Oh my, Hachiman! This place is rather out of your way, isn't it?" Kuoh's Inari Shrine was a quaint, if obnoxiously red, building occupying its own isolated space in Kuoh City. It was nestled within the skeletal grasp of a tightly packed boundary of deciduous trees, so it was easy to forget that the train line was barely a hundred metres behind it. "You only had a small taste, but was four days simply too long for you? To go to such desperate lengths chasing the sweet scent of a beautiful girl… ah, you must have been so terribly deprived. Don't worry, honourable worshipper, this Himejima Akeno is here to be of service."

For a moment, I saw a different face framed by raven locks. Sharper cheeks. Eyes glinting more with malice than mischief.

I tried to ignore the sickening sensations invoked by her sweet, yet sultry, grin. Instead I focused on the way she bounced over to where I was standing beneath the torii at the top of the stairs. They weren't steep by any means, so it wasn't lack of energy that kept me from approaching closer, so much as lack of desire.

"Hell no. If I wanted to smell a pretty girl, I'd just stay home with my sister." Something in my words must have struck a chord because her bouncing lasted only a moment more as she ground to a halt. A rictus of disgusted realisation marred her beguiling face. Seriously, how much are you guys stalking me to already understand the depths of my brotherly love. I thought I was pretty good at keeping that under wraps.

Whatever. It was annoying, but given Kiba's actions yesterday, I had resigned myself overnight to the idea that they might hold my sister against me. There was no need to hide my depths of love for Komachi, really. That was kind of a relief. Pretending would have been way too difficult in the first place. No one loves their little sister more than me, after all.

No not like that. That's disgusting.

"To answer your question, I find kicking puppies rather too easy. They're bred to keep coming back for more no matter how much you hurt them." Her tone was light, and her face moved from disgusted to lascivious. Strange, I was used to the opposite. "Now, innocent boys on the other hand… there's a much more delicious challenge in keeping them on a leash, don't you think?"

"I notice you forgot to mention a lack of soul stealing, there." I was not going to let on how much her words affected me. I'd had a fantasy of chains the first day we met, and I'd rather not mention that the same fantasy had kept me awake every night hence. I wasn't a masochist, nor was I into bondage. No matter how familiar such a scene seemed to be.

"The sale of souls in the underworld was outlawed by the Four Great Satans following the war that saw the deaths of their predecessors." What? Every new thing I learned about Devils just made me more and more sure I wanted nothing to do with them. "The act of making such a deal in good faith with a consenting adult would be a sure-fire way for any Devil to find themselves in front of Lord Lucifer pending an execution, let alone stealing from a child."

Well. That's a thing. So Lucifer cared for human souls. Alternatively, human souls were what this lot of Satans had used to seize power after the last ones bit the dust. Yeah, that made a lot more sense.

"So you don't do it because you'd die if you did. Makes sense." Nothing like a good old fashioned dictatorship to prove to the humans you force into slavery that everything is on the up and up. Sure did inspire a lot of faith that the only reason you weren't making more slaves was because the head honcho would kill you for trying to usurp him.

"No. We don't do it because there is simply no need. Souls are an inefficient resource at the end of the day." And there's the propaganda. You don't need souls for power. They're inefficient. We definitely aren't running a soul harvester behind our thrones made of baby skulls, what are you talking about? "Besides, why steal someone's soul when you can steal their virginity instead? Humans are so very sentimental about that sort of thing, are they not?"

"Sure, I can see that. Put a girl willing to sleep with a desperate loser in front of one, and he'll sign his whole life away for the cause."

"Is that so?" Himejima all but purred as she stalked her way toward me. Her fingers, long and sinuous yet soft and silky stroked down the side of my face. "Is that your way of saying you'll be happy to serve me, if I just let you," she licked her lips, "touch me, Hachiman?"

I did not shiver. I did not. Oh hi, libido. You make a good point on why to listen to her, but I'm afraid I need you to go back to being buried deep down alongside self respect and my belief in love. Dumbass feelings. Her hand was really warm, too. Seriously, it was making me sweat.

I flinched, slapping her hand away when it tried to follow my face and taking a couple paces back towards the stairs. "I may be a loser, but I'm not desperate for some loose Devil. After all the blood orgies you've had I'd probably catch something."

If my barbs had any effect she showed no sign of it. Instead she gave me a beatific smile—the light of the morning sun cast her perfectly angular face into sharp relief, violet eyes gleaming. She crossed one arm beneath her chest, threatening the already tight container of her priestess clothes to burst, with the other angled upwards, palm cupping her chin as she watched me with unveiled amusement.

"Hmm, if it wasn't my body or smell that drew you here, perhaps it was my magic? Do you have so much trouble concentrating without me around that you need to conjure my image? Normally I'd charge you, knowing what you'll get up to with it, but as a favor, I'll be happy to teach you for free, just this once."

"The last thing I want to see is you, you damn witch! I'm here for—wait, I can use magic?! How the hell does that work?" Magic? Seriously?! Hey, was I actually a zombie?!

"Of course. You are a Devil. Magic is now in your nature. With every breath your lungs are permeated with mana. With every step the world trembles as you force it to release more. As a Bishop of Rias Gremory, this is all the more true. Your very being is inclined towards the spiritual arts, your every desire an imposition the world must bow before and heed."

Of course, my master was not Eucliwood. Just a chuuni. I thought her servants were somewhat better, but apparently not. Why was my life like this? I would've been more than happy to have just bled out instead of dealing with this crap.

"Uh-huh. Right. Did you take a creative writing class in Hell, or did that all come naturally, Chuunijima?"

Ah, there she was again. A sharp twitch of the lips, an eyeroll aborted almost before I caught it. Careful now, Himejima, you were nearly a real person for a second there! What do you mean, I'm saying people are only real when they despise me? "Oh, you flatter me, Hachiman! I just took a few lessons from the Master Fencer General Zaimokuza-dono. Isn't it wonderful, all the things we have in common?"

Oh great, not only was she a chuuni, she was friends with Zaimokuza of all people. Being a loner, when forced to pair up with people in gym class I had been stuck with a student who thought personal hygiene was optional. Said fatass had made it a habit of his to regale me with his latest delusions, and had been trying to drag me into it. I was not the Bodhisattva Hachiman, nor was I the Eternally Absent God with No Name. Tell me who told you these lies, so I can add them to my Death Note.

"If you're buying what Zaimokuza is selling, boy, have I got a pyramid scheme right up your alley."

Himejima chuckled. It was a dangerous sound, low and rich and trembling through my ribs. I clenched my fist and didn't quite know why. "Don't be silly, Hachiman. Do you really think a girl like me ever has to buy anything? I just have to lean over a little and smile and… well, I'd go on, but you seem awfully hot under the collar. Would you like a drink? Thirst kills, you know."

My knuckles turned white as I dug fingernails into my palm. I could hear my heartbeat in my ears as the world narrowed around me, and that sick feeling returned to my stomach. "I'm sure you'd know all about that, now, wouldn't you? Just how many dehydrated corpses have you left lying in the depths of Shinjuku after 'dates?'"

"Oh my, Hachiman," Himejima said, pressing a terribly exaggerated hand to her terribly exaggerated chest, "while I'm not surprised that your thoughts immediately turn to women of the night, I must ruin your fantasy: there's only one vampire in Kuoh, and he hasn't left his room in almost a year! Try not to be too jealous of the allowances we provide."

Vampires were real too. Okay. Sure. Whatever. Next you'll be telling me there's a god of breasts lurking in a parallel dimension. More importantly, he managed to stay in his room for a whole year?! Hey, are you guys looking after him properly? Is he getting three square meals a day? If so, maybe being a slave isn't too bad after all.

Who am I kidding, you guys probably keep him wrapped in chains and emaciated until he tastes the fresh blood of an English girl running from her uncle.

"Don't flatter yourself too much. The only reason anyone fantasises over you is 'cause they can't see the bitch hiding behind your udders." Or they were just a massive masochist.

"First a dog, and now a cow." Himejima tapped a slender finger against her jaw, a strangely familiar tic. "Is there something you'd like to tell me about your preferences, Hachiman?"

I could feel my face burn in response, and grasped desperately for anything I could come back with. "I know you think the sun shines out your ass, but it's a bit too much to think everyone is like you, Himejima."

Her smug grin was insufferable. That was weak, and we both knew it.

"I'm flattered that you've spent so much time considering my… radiance," she said, cocking her hip in a way that I absolutely did not have to shift my eyes away from. Anyone who tells you otherwise is a liar. Especially Himejima. "But I merely wanted to help, honourable worshipper! We are Devils, you know—I'm sure I could find someone familiar with any sort of sin, if that's what it will take to help you fit into society."

She wasn't a dog, or a cow. She was a shark, smelling blood in the water and prowling closer, inch by inch. As I racked my brain for a response that would punch her in the gills, her shadow crossed mine, and her scent, muted by cleansing rituals, filled my nose. "Familiar with any kind of sin? Isn't that just you?"

"Well, since you're asking, dear Hachiman," Himejima sai—what the?! Since when was she standing right in front of me?! I could feel the imminent pressure of certain pressures about to pressure me into the floor! Too close! I stumbled back a step, my heart slamming sickeningly fast. My throat hurt like it was hard to breathe. Black hair a silken shadow brushing against my cheeks, a smile as wicked as the fingertips crawling up my che— "Should I take it that you'd like a demonstration?"

All that she was, was all that I could see. Her breath on my face chilled the flames she had cast upon it. Sharks are way too dangerous. I'm never going to the beach again. "A-anyway, about why I—why I came here t-to talk to you…"

She smiled indulgently, stepping even closer. Soft.

"Oh, of course we can talk," Himejima said. Her voice was a hot weight in my stomach. "The way men and women so often do, when they're alone together beneath the blessing of Lord Inari. My, my, you've surprised me. I hadn't expected you to be so romantic. Your boldness is truly… impressive."

She licked her lips and I flinched away from it.

"Y-y'know what? N-nevermind!" By now I'd been backed almost all the way to the steps, the torii looming above us both blazing in the morning sun. "I'll just let you get back to work, how's that sound? Good? Yeah, sounds good to me too."

I turned and fled down the stairs, the chimes of her laughter following my advance towards future victories. "Bye bye, Hachiman! I'll see you soon, okay?!"

A hundred years would still be way too soon.


There are three facts of life that anyone with half a brain cell knows:

Himejima Akeno had a smile that could launch a thousand ships.

Hikigaya Hachiman's ship was lying at the bottom of the Aegean Sea.

When given a gift horse you return to sender, lest you give the enemy lurking inside the chance to slip through your walls and destroy you from the inside.

Of those, the last point was the most important to remember. Himejima's beauty was undeniable, and as a pathetically desperate creature, it was easy for me to be blinded by this to the point of ignoring the very salient reasons why she was a foul blight on this earth that deserved nothing but my scorn.

The day I fall prey to her seduction is the day Hikigaya Hachiman the human is no more. All that will be left is a slave, bent to the will of demonic masters who won't even give him a decent living wage. If I wanted to toil my life away for nothing but the praise of idiots who believe that's reward enough, I would have tried my hand at being an artist.

Such were the thoughts I ruminated on as I let my feet lead me, fleeing the site of my failure to withstand Himejima's… Himejima-ness. Maybe if I stared at the black tar beneath me and wished hard enough, it would open up and swallow me whole.

Today was a mistake, planned and executed in a fit of enraged hubris while chewing out a shitty pervert. Seeing that pervert flounder in the face of my approach had given me misguided hope that by confronting the Devils head on, I could get them to back off. I'd even told Komachi I wouldn't be back until evening, expecting to spend the day forcing my opinions on Gremory and her so-called 'peerage.' Mostly of the 'leave me the hell alone,' variety.

By the way, I looked up what a peerage actually was. Noble peers, claiming hereditary roles (or rarely meritocratically bestowed) from a variety of states unified as equals. That was far and away from taking people, making them your servant ranked by chess pieces, and then sharing a bit of your land with them so that you didn't seem like a total villain.

News flash: you still totally do.

Sighing, I raised my head to get a sense of where I was, only to come face to face with the closed gates of Kuoh Academy. Left on autopilot within Kuoh City as I was, it was only natural for me to gravitate to the only reason I would normally come here.

Some say schools look different when there's no one there. More foreboding, somehow. To me the school still looked like a school. Well, I suppose that's not really true; it never looked like a school in the first place.

With its sweeping courtyard, complete with marble statues, ridiculously large fountain, too long driveway for all the limos, and sprawling expanse of grass and gardens, it was more like a Western mansion you'd expect Hollywood stars to be living in. Which shouldn't come as a shock, considering that prior to last year it has been an all-girls school dedicated to aiding rich girls learn how to be rich women.

Even after opening its doors to the opposite gender in what I can only assume was an effort to appease some sponsor or another, girls still made up 85% of the student body. With good reason. Their sports programs and teams sucked so badly that there was no hope of a scholarship, and the entrance exam was so brutal I'd seen one guy punch himself in the groin during a break for an excuse to leave. The only guys who wanted to attend were the rich and well educated. Or the desperate.

Loud noises spilled from the suddenly opened entrance. Feminine voices, tinged in resigned outrage, hurled abuses towards a trio of boys being frog marched towards the gate by the hulking behemoths that made up the school's security personnel. Speaking of desperate...

Kuoh Academy's "Perverted Trio," a triangle of the most ill-begotten, malformed, pathetic pieces of trash to ever have plagued Japan with their existence. All three were first years, and all three were somehow still enrolled despite being caught numerous times in the act of sexual harassment. It certainly wasn't their grades that were keeping them around—they'd been caught bragging about how they made sure to fail so they could be around in the holidays taking re-tests to harass the girls' sports clubs.

As they all but skipped beneath the gaze of security and the glares of half the female student body—both middle and high school—they made me look like a veritable saint.

Maybe I should start my own church?

The Church for Guys Who Like Girls, But Aren't as Bad as Those Three.

Give me a year, and I'll be a Japanese institution. Otaku everywhere will praise my name after I unite them under a banner of prosperity.

Nah... that sounds like way too much effort. They still can't choose between Rei and Asuka.

I don't want to waste my time drilling into their heads that the real answer is Misato.

By the time security reached the gate, the girls had exhausted themselves of any intelligible abuse, and had returned to their clubrooms. Probably to go suck back the sobs that their basic rights as humans were being violated on the daily, and society didn't give a damn.

I caught the eye of the trio's leader, Hyoudou Issei, as they were pushed through the gate, and levelled him with a glare full of all the disgust and spite I could manage. He was a rather average looking boy who envisioned himself as some kind of eroge protagonist. The only thing I could give him credit for is that he'd styled his hair somewhat sensibly; if he'd had hair dangling past his eyes, no one would have been surprised.

Somehow this walking example of everything wrong with Japan had friends, too. How was that fair? If Devils exist then God must exist too, but he's obviously not paying very close attention for this kind of injustice to be allowed.

His two bookends were duller, uglier, and according to rumour, even more perverted than their self-proclaimed "Future Harem King" leader.

I'd been adamant that Komachi not even think about transferring schools as soon as I'd heard of these three, and every new story of increasing degeneracy made me happier my parents had backed me up for once.

Even if that was only because they thought I would drag Komachi's reputation down and ruin any prospects she had of getting into a good university.

In the face of my disgust, Hyoudou didn't even try to look ashamed. He simply grinned at me, before turning to Ugly 1 and Moron A and loudly proclaiming a desire to go look at some porn mags he'd bought the other day.

Please, I bet you'd had to pay the university student smoking outside the convenience store to get those for you. You might like to pretend you're an ero-video protagonist, but everyone knows that in front of a real woman you'd be worse than the protagonist of a harem manga that got cancelled out of Monthly Shounen Ace.

Actually, that's giving you too much credit! You wouldn't even belong to a series sold at Comiket!

Watching them prance away, unrepentant about their crimes, gleeful about the fact that society lets perverts escape justice with a slap on the wrist, Himejima's words about magic floated back into my head.

'...your every desire an imposition the world must bow before and heed.'

Right then, I wanted Chuunijima to have been telling the truth. I wanted the world to heed my request, and force Hyoudou to feel what his victims felt. To be stripped and humiliated before the perversion of someone who didn't care. To be exposed as the creep he was, and feel the stare of unwanted attention burning into his back with every moment. I wanted him scared and embarrassed, traumatised that at any moment the monster who made him feel that way will come back and make him feel that way again.

I locked my gaze on the back of his head, as I felt my own begin to pound with the blood rushing through it. A storm was brewing in the air, unfallen snow hanging heavy in the clouds above. A little more, if I desired just a little more…

A cough from behind me startled me out of my glaring. Hyoudou was long gone, and I'd been standing staring murder into nothingness for who knows how long.

I could feel the heat rushing to my face.

I needed to see what the coughing person wanted, and then run home and bury my head beneath my blankets in shame.

"Are you a student of this school?" The person, a woman by her voice, asked.

Turning to look at her, all I could think at first was 'big.'

She was tall, much taller than me or anyone I'd ever known. She was dressed in an expensive-looking, though horribly creased, burgundy suit, an impressively ruffled white blouse, and tights with some unfortunate laddering. Exhaustion radiated from her every pore. There were bags beneath her bloodshot green eyes. Her face had an almost deathly pallor, and she swayed lightly on heeled feet.

She was also bustier than anyone I'd ever known. A fact she seemed well aware of as she snapped her fingers in front of my distracted eyes, drawing them back to her own, tired, yet twinkling with humour.

Taking a moment to remember what she'd asked me (and how to talk properly), I responded. "Yes. Hikigaya Hachiman, first year, class F. How can I help you, ma'am?"

"Polite, aren't you? When you're not staring at least." My increasing flush only served to amuse her more it seemed, because she let out a small chuckle. "My name is Doroteya Sokolova. You can just call me Div, though. My daughter is hoping to attend this academy's middle school in the coming year, and I was being shown around before that bit of unpleasantness earlier. Do you mind if I ask you a couple of questions about your experience?"

For a foreigner, her Japanese was impeccable. I couldn't hear a trace of an accent. "Not at all. Please, ask me anything you'd like to know."

She chuckled again, lower and more sultry. "Such a sweet child you are. I almost wish you were my own." For the third time in as many sentences my face darkened with blood. Himejima could take lessons from this woman. "Let's start with those three that had you glaring into space for five minutes—who are they?"

Damn, I was rather hoping we could have just moved straight past them and any embarrassing actions linked to them. Still, I gave a quick summation.

"I see." Div made a thoughtful noise. "My daughter... how likely is it, do you think, that she would be harassed if she came here?"

"As far as I know, they generally try to stick to the high school girls. But," I clenched my hands and tried not to grind my teeth. "As you saw, there are still days where even the middle school girls get caught up in things."

Div made another one of those hums of thought. "You seem to be taking their actions rather… personally. Just a concerned citizen, or did they target someone close to you?"

I had to hold back a rather inappropriate laugh. The only girl close enough to me that they could have targeted was a psycho who tried to kill me. Them trying to perv on her would have been a sight to behold. "Not really. I have a little sister of my own who's in middle school. The thought of creeps like them being around her just… It's bad enough trying to forget what might happen to her on buses and trains. She doesn't deserve that in school too."

Div sighed. "Yes, it's quite the unfortunate state of things that many women have to live with in this country. They had to sit us down and explain at length what 'chikan' is and how we would almost certainly experience it before coming here for the JET programme, you know. I've heard horror stories from some of my fellow expats.

"Anyway! I don't need to burden you with our grown up issues. You're a very good brother. I hope your sister appreciates that." I tried not to let the warm sensation her words gave me show too much, but the knowing smirk she shot me indicated that was in vain. "Follow up question! As I understand it, Mr. Yukinoshita's youngest daughter attends this school, is that correct?"

In Kuoh Academy, "Yukinoshita" could only refer to one person. Where Himejima and Gremory were famous for their looks and abilities, Yukinoshita Yukino could only be said to be infamous for hers. She was a member of Class J—an accelerated class dedicated to those students with an international focus— and was said to be a divine presence within the school. Top of the year in every course coupled with a prickly, isolated demeanour that had allegedly rebuffed the efforts of Gremory, Himejima, and even the current student body president Shitori Souna within the first week alone.

She was also the daughter of a local politician, which explained Div's overall bedraggled state. She must be a translator working at the municipal office, the poor fool. That's what you get for trying to master Japanese as a foreigner: long thankless hours in an underpaid position that will end in a couple years when you're replaced and sent back to your own country with barely any savings.

Not that working in Japan as a Japanese was any better. Longer hours, an expectation to use formal language, caring for your boss after he dragged you out to a drinking party his body couldn't handle, and the only freedom you'd ever achieve was in the afterlife when you were expected to work so often you made video game crunch look like a holiday.

Work and you lose to the system.

Become a devil and be a slave.

My future was pretty bleak, huh?

"Yeah, I know of her. Can't say I've ever met her though; so I can't help you anymore than that," I replied.

"She's a bit of a recluse, huh?" She seemed to think about that for a moment before smiling. "That's fine, then. I suppose my daughter won't be interacting much with high schoolers anyway.

"Your Russian is amazing by the way. I didn't even know they taught it here! Do you enjoy your class?"

Russian? What the hell was she talking about? We were speaking in Japanese!

My confusion must have shown on my face, because she let out yet another laugh. It wasn't a short one, either. For the first time, I noticed how very mocking her tone was.

"Oh, but of course they didn't. Why, you must just have a gift for tongues. Rei-chan will be terribly dismayed to hear of it!"

What the hell...? What kind of drugs was this lady on? Or did I somehow fall down a rabbit hole mid-conversation?

And who the hell was Rei-ch—

My head felt as though it had been dumped in lava.

My vision went dark, my ears rang, and I could taste copper in my mouth.

A second later the world was back to normal.

Except instead of standing in front of the school gates with a bedraggled office lady, I was alone, lying on my back on the grass inside.

I sighed and stood up.

Whatever just happened, I was better off pretending it never did.

I needed to go do something fun, otherwise I was going to go even crazier.


Of course, expecting the day to become normal after the events of that morning would have been asking too much of the world.

Abandon hope, ye who bears the name Hachiman, for you are cursed to live a life of inconvenience and suffering.

It was a lesson that no matter how many times I thought I'd learned, I kept forgetting why and began hoping again.

"Hikigaya! What a coincidence, I was just thinking of you!"

After a morning of being flustered, flummoxed and flagellated by busty women older than me, all I had wanted was to get a quick meal before retreating far from anywhere anyone could know me and into a den of debauchery.

Otherwise known as an internet cafe with unrestricted wifi.

Sadly, I was thwarted from my desire to conduct research on the plot of Highschool of the Dead by the newest (and oldest) bane of my highschool life.

"Hiratsuka-sensei…" I said tentatively, searching for a way to escape the third woman of her kind that day. If you ladies kept getting in the way of my peaceful life I was liable to start thinking flat is justice, you know. What kind of person would that make you, to turn an innocent young boy into that kind of monster.

It shouldn't have come across as such a surprise to run into her, really. In order to afford entertainment for the rest of the day, I'd had to forego the cost of convenience of being able to take a train all the way from Kuoh into Chiba proper and instead walk to the next station.

Never underestimate how far an extra 200 yen will take you!

Kaihinmakuhari Station was at the centre of Mihama Ward's modern urban sprawl. With Kuoh being almost exclusively the domain of the excessively rich or their civil servants, it would only make sense for a teacher to live in the next Ward over.

With lunchtime well upon Japan by the time I arrived, the chances of running into one of said teachers there were more positive than negative.

Unfortunately calculating chances is something that I failed last semester.

"See, someone I was just talking to said I was too passionate about my job as a teacher. But thinking of those rotten eyes of yours was all I needed to know that he was wrong." She was louder than usual, with an odd hitch in her voice. You tried to be vague at the start, but you gave it up pretty quick that this is some kind of guy issue huh? Why are you venting to me?

It's not like I'd ever been in a real relationship.

I ignored the vague churning in my gut.

"You do such a good job too, sensei." Maybe if I tried a little brown-nosing, she'd let me slip away and not drag me into her own issues. You're meant to be fixing mine, damn it! Not that you've been very helpful in that regard. "If you'll excuse me…"

"I know right?!" Slinging her arm around my shoulder in what I'm sure was meant to be a show of camaraderie—but which really reeked of a desperate clinging for support—she cut off my avenue of escape. Damn you, woman! "Speaking of those rotten eyes of yours, it hasn't even been a week and they're more rotten than ever!"

"A-ah, well, y'know…" Who would have guessed dealing with Devils made you more rotten. It's almost like that's the core tenet of a major religion or something. If you wanna complain about them, complain about you feeding me to them yourself, first! "Anyway, you're uhh… looking really nice today sensei! I'm sure your date must be really happy. I wouldn't want him to get the wrong idea if he saw us like this."

So get your arm off me already!

Oh.

Oh dammit.

Way to go Hachiman. That's definitely how you escape from a clingy teacher. Hit on them and remind them of their already present guy problems. No wonder Naoko-chan looked at you like a gross bug when you tried cheering her up that one time.

No wait, maybe that was because I knew her name and problems in the first place.

"Hahaha!" Sensei let out a much too loud and oddly pitched laugh to be real. Right in my ear. Ouch. "What are you talking about, Hikigaya?! That's hilarious! As if I would be spending my limited time off on a date with some loser who begged off spending Christmas together!

"I certainly wouldn't be wasting my life with someone who's threatened by me spending my time with kids!"

Ah, so she'd been dumped, and the guy had blamed her passion as a teacher as the excuse to do it. The bastard.

Sensei was an attractive woman with a steady job, a great reputation, and an agreeable personality! Since she was a teacher, she didn't even have to partake in weekly drinking parties with all the guys in the office. As someone aspiring to be a house-husband, she was almost the perfect woman!

The arm tightening around my neck was one of the only reasons she wasn't.

"That bastard, I just wanna be like Koro-sensei! Is that so bad?!"

"No, but some guys aren't attracted to women more obsessed with shounen comics than they are." Also, Koro-sensei was a monster making kids into killers. If that's where your passion lies, please count me out.

Sensei's eyes narrowed into a glare. "Why you… where's your respect for your elders?! Just for that, you're coming to lunch with me!"

Why did I have to be the poor idiot she focused her passions on?


Yarou Ramen was decently tasty, if a tad bit too expensive. I'd certainly never come here under my own power and money.

Thankfully(?), I had been frogmarched here by my guidance counselor and modern Japanese language teacher claiming that "as the adult [she] should pay."

Which is obvious. But as an adult you also shouldn't be forcing a teenage boy to accompany you, you know?

Or if you're going to do that, I demand much more than just a single meal.

I hear the going rate for compensated dating is about ten thousand yen an hour. But I'm way more special than those gyaru sluts, so pay me twenty thousand.

By the way, your rant about how doomed Japan is to its aging population and that all guys wanted was your money, beauty and your house has been going for half an hour sensei. That'll be thirty thousand yen.

I agree, Japan is a horribly sexist country and men are little better than pigs. This is why I'll accept any woman who wants to marry me and support them as they chase their dreams. I only ask that they let me stay at home and keep everything in order for them.

We won't have kids because I don't want to look after them, and they'll be too busy.

Also, you now owe me forty thousand yen, sensei.

I thought of such things as orders were placed, seats taken, and finally food delivered to us. At last, Hiratsuka-sensei finished her argument to no-one who cared about the patriarchy and levelled me with a searching look.

Whatever you're looking for you won't find it, sensei. I'm a hideously shallow being with no hidden depths. All that looking deep into my rotten eyes will get you is a need to have a shower.

"So, Hikigaya. I've heard you've been acting like a brat." Who told you those lies?

All I've done is slam a door in someone's face, ignore my sister's guest, insult someone who did better than me in games, insult someone I ran into at the store, and show up at someone's place of work to pick a fight.

I was totally innocent of any wrong-doings.

"The only people acting like brats are the ones unilaterally forcing themselves into places they're not wanted."

If they didn't want to be rejected they should have just not tried to interact with me. 100% of people I had encountered had at some point later made it clear I was unwanted. Personally I think it's better to make it clear right from the start that I want nothing to do with you instead of letting you think I care.

Sadly, it seemed she took little heed of my personal boundaries on people interfering with my life. Which should've been obvious, she hadn't cared about them when she forced Devils and herself on me. Nonetheless, her gimlet stare struck me through the steam of our bowls of ramen.

Speaking of which, it was better to focus on said food before it got cold.

The breaking of chopsticks all but echoed amongst the silence of our table.

The steady slurping of our miso soaked noodles was eventually broken by sensei getting impatient.

"Look," she said after a lengthy sigh. "I get it. Don't look at me like that, I do. You're hardly the first human to get made into a Devil without really asking first. Hell, you're not even the first reincarnate within that Peerage."

Wow. I can't believe I have the honour of being among such a prized group of individuals. We're so special that instead of just lies, trickery and reliance upon the greed of humans to outweigh any rational thought, they instead just forced us.

Truly, it was the difference between yobai and rape.

But more importantly than that, the question that I'd been ignoring for the past week arose; just who exactly was Hiratsuka Shizuka. No, more than that...

"What the hell even are you, Sensei." I made sure to drawl her title in as sarcastic a manner as I could. Which, to give myself much due credit, was quite a bit. Sensei agreed if the unimpressed look she levelled on me once again was any indication.

"Human," she replied. I didn't bother trying to hold my snort of disbelief in, and in turn she didn't bother to hide the roll of her eyes. Wasn't honestly displaying your ridicule so much better than pretending to act like you care? "Specifically, I'm a human magician, contracted to a devil obsessed with magical girls."

There was a lot to unpack in that one sentence, but I'd ignore the creeping dread of some fat otaku devil existing and instead focus on the existence of human magicians and contracts.

"Humans can use magic if they contract with Devils?" I asked. Sensei's unimpressed look gained an extra level in [Ridicule]. It now carried a 5% chance of causing an [Embarrassment] debuff on teenage boys.

"You haven't even tried listening to those guys have you? And here I thought your brain was at least somewhat functional." There was a not-insignificant tinge of anger to her tone as she waved a hand impatiently in front of me, cutting off any rebuttal I could have made. "No. Shut up. Don't try to be cute. Eat your ramen and listen. This is the basics of the basics, and something you'd damn well know by now if you cared about more than your own pity party. Maybe something I say here will help you to not end up dead. Again."

I did as she bade, putting my chopsticks back to use. Not because she had a point, but because I didn't want it to get cold. My beef strips were already getting a bit too mushy, I idly noticed.

"Now then, let's start with human magicians: Humans have always had their ways of using magic, right from the time we came into being. But it was rudimentary, taking a lot of effort for insufficient rewards. Then Merlin, half-Devil that he was, came along and uprooted basically all of it. He was able to take the magic of his kind and mirror it through maths. Instead of just wishing really hard and the world obeying whatever he imagined, Merlin was able to prove the existence of magic and in doing so forced the laws of nature to obey. Thus, any human magician you meet is going to be overwhelmingly smart and able to play with very complex mathematical formulae off the top of their head. This is one area where being a Devil is a good thing for you, because you suck at maths and excel at living in a fantasy land.

"At the end of the day though, human magic is still only a mirror of Devil magic, and still requires a lot of energy to reap lesser rewards. So, in order to grow in strength as magicians, any would-be practitioner inevitably makes a contract with a Devil. They provide us with magic, and we… well, let's just say we do them favours when they ask. No matter how shameful."

The idea of Sensei doing 'favours' for someone passed through my head, and I had to use all my strength to keep a perverse grin off my face. Then the reality of such a scenario came to me and I felt my pity rise even as my respect fell. I really don't think power is worth debasing yourself like that, Sensei. I thought you were supposed to be a good role model?

Beyond that though, as I sat my chopsticks above my empty bowl, I reflected on what she'd said about Devil magic.

It certainly made the chuuni crap Himejima had been spouting that morning make a bit more sense (even if it was still chuuni as all hell). Devils could use magic just through wishing hard enough and imagining it happening. I was sure there was more to it, but for the moment just that was more than enough to let me start experimenting with it.

Maybe if I wished hard enough, I could erase everyone who was annoying me and go back to dreaming of being a house-husband. Hell, if wishing hard enough was all I needed then that dream was well within my grasp! All I'd need to do was—

Sensei's fingers snapping in front of my face cut whatever dumb idea I'd had short. She really was a rude woman—I might have just discovered the way to world peace, you know? My world was the only world that mattered, right?

"Like I said, this is just one part of the basics. Hikigaya, I need you to listen to me right now. The world you've joined is dangerous. You weren't even involved in it when you barely avoided death a week ago. You might not like Gremory-san's Peerage, but you need to trust them, and you need to hear them out. At least until you understand just how the world of the supernatural works, and how that affects you.

"If they'd wanted you hurt, they wouldn't have revived you. If they'd wanted something from you, they'd have taken it. You're weak, after all."

She was right, I didn't like Gremory's peerage. But she was losing her mind if she thought I'd ever give them even an inkling of trust. It was alright for her, she'd already thrown her lot in with them for power.

But I didn't need that.

Didn't want it either.

They could go back to hell, I could go back to my life, and everyone would be happy and no one would be hurt.

Anyway, I was done with being nagged at for one day, and done with my food too. So I brought the conversation to a close as I got up from my seat.

"Thanks for the tip, Sensei. I'll think about it."

Hikigaya Hachiman lied as naturally as he breathed.


With an extra 1500 yen in my wallet, courtesy of a free lunch, I made my way out of the monorail station at Yoshikawakoen. My personal internet cafe of choice, Takarajima 24, was but a short walk away and I'd be able to enjoy an extra hour of carefree browsing than I had expected to.

The day had been long, and I had gone three from three on bad conversations with people, so I was more than ready to switch my brain off and enjoy what limited time I could before the real world tried to infringe upon the sanctuary of sanity that was my self again.

"Oh my, Hachiman!" Of course, because my name is the rarely used Hachiman, this meant that I couldn't even think such things without fate cursing me with a fourth bad encounter. Fourth verse, same as the first! "To think we would run into each other again so soon! Is it fate, or are you just stalking me?"

The owner of the sultry voice whispering in my ear was, of course, Himejima, standing well within my personal boundaries with an impish smirk. Turning my head, I noticed she was looking as buxom and beautiful as always, though she had replaced the priestess cosplay with more normal blue jeans and a pale cream blouse.

"Funny. But I'm not one of your Johns."

I stepped away from hell in a humanoid form, and continued on my way. Five more minutes, past a couple of izakaya, and freedom from the constraints of human decency would be mine.

"Well, that's no fun," her voice chimed in my ears as she pursued me through narrow streets teeming with unopened bars—a testament to the lifestyle of modern Japan. "No blushing? No pithy remarks? Are you perhaps some wicked youkai that has snatched my dear Hachiman up?"

Youkai exist too. I'm so surprised.

Not.

After vampires and magicians, I was ready to accept anything mentioned in fairy tales was real. Call me when you find a funyarinpa, and I'll try to at least act shocked.

"You've got me," I drawled. A right at the next corner, and then paradise would be right before my eyes. "I'm actually a kappa. Be careful not to get in front of me, or I'll steal your shirikodama."

For reasons unknown, for the second time this week I was treated to the sight of Himejima red faced and bent over, gasping for air.

Because she was laughing at me too damn hard.

It wasn't that funny, weirdo.

Because I'm too nice for my own good, I waited for her to collect herself instead of leaving her in a defenseless state on her own in a barely populated side street. It had nothing to do with the heaving of her chest, I swear.

You're an idiot Hachiman, you should have taken the opportunity to just get out of there.

When the heaving stopped, I turned away and continued on my way. I had just rounded the corner when Himejima, still stalking me, spoke up again.

"Hachiman," her voice was serious, but I seriously couldn't have cared less. "I truly do enjoy our interactions, and I thank whatever reason you have for being here in Chiba for allowing our paths to cross once more. It allows me to correct my error from this morning."

"Oh?" She had my interest, barely, as I stopped outside the door of the internet cafe. "What's this? Are you going to apologise for being a salacious slut? Or maybe for you and your fuck-buddies stalking me this week. Personally I'd prefer both, and a promise that you and yours will fuck off out of my life."

A complicated look I couldn't recognise crossed her face, before settling into a frown. Hey, hey, what's wrong with you Himejima? You're letting that perfect mask of yours slip for way too long!

"None of the three, I'm afraid." Ah well, curiosity sated. Viva la all you can drink! Himejima settled a hand on my shoulder, stopping me from crossing the threshold. "Hachiman, please! I would like you to put aside whatever petty antagonism you hold for me and instead listen. You need to go home, I'm here hun—"

Whatever she was here for was lost beneath the sound of hand slapping hand. Even if hitting the hand she had on my shoulder felt more like colliding with a car.

Either way, she withdrew her hand, and I withdrew into the bright lights and welcoming smile of Takarajima 24's reception.


Six hours later, I departed from heaven feeling rejuvenated and light on my feet. The latter was probably because I'd spent every last yen I had in my wallet inside.

Well, except the 20 one yen coins it was seemingly impossible to ever get rid of.

The former, however, was thanks to an exorbitantly long period spent basking in the rose tinted glasses of reminiscent nostalgia—or so I would say if I'd ever actually played Okami as a kid. Instead, trying my hand at the new remaster had left me hopelessly bored after the first hour.

So I'd decided to do some snooping on the 'people' Sensei all but begged me to trust. As I had expected though, the results I could gleam from the mighty Google-sama were negligible. Oh sure, they all had the expected SNS accounts any normal teenager would have—LIES, Instacrap, Foolbook, Twitter—but they were hollow. Shells of humanity used to present nothing short of an abject lie.

Just like every other SNS account in the world.

But even for the shallow pit of humanity that was social media, there was something weird about their accounts. They had no connections with family, for one. Hell, in searching for any other Gremory all I'd been able to find was a bunch of otaku (both Japanese and from the West) who thought they were cool and edgy.

If you're 35 and still acting like a chuuni with your online presence, I'm sorry to say but there's nothing cool about you. You're more pathetic than I ever could be.

There were other things too: like the fact that their Twitter accounts were mostly used for simply retweeting other people. Gremory and co were social butterflies (or so I'd heard). Always ready to charm and control the conversation with their quick wit and above average intelligence (or so I'd heard). They were all also way too damn pretty, and had all received their own variety of scouting offers (or so I'd heard).

So why were there no life updates, no jokes or opinions on the latest drama, no pictures from their latest beach trip?!

The way they used Twitter was more fitting for a socially awkward loser. Stop stealing my style and use your own!

And post pictures of your beach trip! They're not even on your Instagarbage!

The only things that were there were pictures of food and drinks. And even then, only from well known chains or local cafes. Nothing from any trips, be it Tokyo, the zoo, or even days out in Chiba, shopping.

Of course, the weirdest thing of all was that all four of them had created all their accounts on the exact same day (April 4, 2016 for the record), at almost the exact same time. As if they had all crawled out from the same rock after Gremory and Himejima's first day of school and joined the 21st century.

The Earth's crust is apparently thick enough to stop the knowledge of social media from penetrating through to Hell. Truly, this planet is a wondrous thing. We should all unite to protect it from those who would seek to do it harm.

If the Devils get control of Facebully we're doomed.

Faced with the emptiness of a Devil's soul, I'd turned towards another avenue for trying to investigate them. Sensei's words from earlier, that I wasn't the first reincarnate within Gremory's peerage, led me to doing a deep dive through news articles. If one of them had been hurt bad enough to need reincarnating, I thought it might be an incident worth note.

Unfortunately, as far as the news was concerned they didn't exist. There wasn't even a single local rag doing a puff piece on the local celebrity Gremory had become since she'd moved here. No surprises there—the Devil princess likely had an all star cast of lawyers at her beck and call to protect her image.

The closest thing to an incident I'd been able to find was the tragic temple fire in Kyoto earlier this year. A bolt of lightning had struck a generator in the middle of the night during a freak storm this passed autumn. The thing had exploded and taken out most of the elderly and middle aged members of the Himejima clan that lived there.

But that was old news. Himejima had already been here in Kuoh for a year and a half by that point. She hadn't missed a single day of class to attend any of the funeral and remembrance ceremonies held for that temple either. A shared name and a part time job was the only commonality there.

So, with the disappointing fact that I couldn't just cyber stalk them into any of their secrets, I'd gone back to trying to have fun as a furry Amaterasu-Ōmikami. I'd even succeeded, and would absolutely be coming back soon to continue playing.

...if everything supernatural is real, that would mean Amaterasu was real too.

I wonder how she felt about being internationally known as a big dog.

Lost in my ruminations, I didn't pay attention to the people stumbling out of one of the numerous bars in the cramped streets until I'd physically barged into them.

"Watch where you're fucking going, you little fucking shit! You trying to fuck my night up, huh?! Maybe I should fuck you up!" The man I'd bumped into seemed every bit the wannabe yakuza you see in manga. Shitty bleached hair in a failed pompadour, a button up shirt in an eye watering whirlwind of orange, purple and blue, and "gold" chains around his neck that you could where the paint had rubbed off, revealing the ordinary metal underneath.

His partner for the evening was a woman who embodied the word 'white'. Not just her race, but her dress, clinging tightly to bountiful curves (where fabric even existed), strappy sandals slipped on smooth soles, her handbag, even the streaks in her waist length hair were all a virginal white. Which was ridiculous because that dress should be showing lingerie and I couldn't see a scrap of it on her body.

"Ah. I'm very sorry." I muttered with a bow, hoping to escape before some asshole would-be thug, drunk before 9pm, could yell at me even more.

"You little fuck! What kind of bullshit apology is that, huh?!" Keeping with the pattern of today however, my hopes were squandered. "You think you're hot shit, is that it, huh?! Wandering around here when the adults are out to play… did your balls just drop or something?"

Dear God, please shut this idiot up and let me go in peace. I swear, I never believed in you, but if you do you'll have made a faithful believer out of me!

"Baby~" the woman whined at her thug partner, placing a hand against his chest. Huh, so there was something coloured on her—her nails were long, curled and sharp, and painted a black so deep you could mistake them for Himejima's heart. Instead they were just claws on a harpy. "Just let the loser go home and jack off. He was probably just trying to sneak a squeeze of this~"

I tried my best to not roll my eyes when she slapped her own ass and squealed. Come on, God, please? I know I'm meant to be a Devil now, but it's not like I want to be! Aren't you meant to be all about that redemption and salvation crap?!

"Nah, nah, Yuzu. He don't need that— just look at his shitty little eyes." The asshole slapped a sweat-soaked hand down on my shoulder and shook me, forcing me to look up at him properly. God, I was just noticing it but he absolutely reeked. Like a certain sock that might have been misplaced under your bed for a month after multiple uses. I'd ask how any self respecting woman could stomach being with him, but it was pretty clear this 'Yuzu' didn't have any. "Ahh, I know that look in your eyes, you stalked some slut from school here and blackmailed her into sucking you off, right?! Ahaaha, that's it isn't it?! Yeah, I done the same fucking thing when I was your age! Man, the look of her pathetic crying face begging me not to tell anyone… fuck, I might need to skip the bar and take you back to the hotel, slut!"

He seemed to forget about me as he turned to make a public mess out himself and his partner in the middle of the street. I would have left them to it, but the bastard had, if anything, only tightened his grip on my shoulder, keeping me in place.

God, are you really holding the Devil thing against me? I told you, it's not like I want to be one. Wait, don't tell me you're the one behind my shitty, hopeless day, are you? Well, fuck you too!

Seeing that the guy holding me didn't seem intent on releasing his grip on my shoulder, or 'Yuzu's… everything. I tried to speak up. "Y-yeah, it's just like you said, mister. I was just—"

Anything further I could have said was stopped by the pavement beneath my feet rushing up to meet my face.

No, wait, he had just thrown me down.

"Ahahaha, man you actually did that?! You're a real piece of fucking scum!" He stomped on my head, and through the dim remnants of consciousness I could still cling to, I felt a throbbing burn in my nose. "Haha, better wake up to life little shit. You gotta be classy, like me. Treat women with resp—"

I couldn't tell if he cut himself off, or if I just passed out briefly, but either way I didn't hear anything from him again.

Blearily, I began to pick myself up off the ground. Rising to my knees I put a hand up to my face, only to pull it away immediately when it just caused a sharp sting to resound through the dull haze of what I believe was a concussion. Blinking, I noticed a pool of red right in front of my eyes, one that I'm sure would match the colour of my hand.

Groaning and grasping for something to assist (not that I found anything), I slowly pulled myself up to my feet in the middle of the street. What little noise I could hear through the ringing and buzzing in my ear was normal. The people walking around simply stepped around me, not even hiding their lack of desire to help as they averted their eyes from my pathetic form.

I couldn't blame them; I would've done the exact same thing in their shoes.

Even so, I needed to get home before Komachi got worried and tried getting our parents involved. The last thing I needed was a lecture on staying out and forcing them to come get me instead of being able to sleep and prepare for their early starts at work the next day.

Thus, I slowly stumbled forward toward the monorail station. From there, it was two stations to Chiba Train station.

I put trembling foot in front of trembling foot as I forced myself to move onward.

From Chiba Station, it was a further four down the Keiyo line to Keimigawahama Station in Mihama Ward.

The evening air was a bit chilly, I noted as my body trembled in a gust of wind. I hunched quaking shoulders together to help fend it off and picked fruitlessly at my shirt, damp from the ground, as it kept sticking to me and making me shiver more.

From Keimigawahama, a short walk would round out the trip, and I'd be able to have a shower, brush my teeth, and get ready to take Komachi out for Hatsumode. I was a bit worn out, so we'd probably just have to make do with the short trip up to Kemigawa Shrine, rather than a more specialised one. Which was fine, because neither of us really had any particular needs that the gods could help us with.

Not like they'd ever particularly cared in the past really. Probably don't even give a crap about humans. They probably just live life like deviants, partying and fucking and acting like the biggest normies ever.

I hate walking in the wind; it always makes your eyes sting and tears well up.

Oh well, not too much longer now and I'd be free to curl up in bed with Vita-chan and waste away the final 30 hours before classes resumed.

Approaching the monorail station, the buzzing in my ears was just starting to fade when a barely familiar whining rang out from behind me. I couldn't really make out what she was saying, the world was still too fuzzy, and it sounded as though it was coming from the other end of a very long tunnel. She seemed to be pleading with her partner (named 'Yujiro,' maybe?) not to do something, and in general sounding like a whore.

She was in the middle of all but moaning when her voice cut out with a cry of pain.

The asshole's… Yujiro's voice was rough and rushed. There was such a sense of excitement in the blood soaked words that spewed forth amidst an effusion of profanity that I felt my stomach turn to lead.

As I slowly pieced the meaning of choice words together in my muddled mind, I realised that he intended to kill me. Not because of anything that I'd done. Not even because he was a serial killer that got off on it.

No, he intended to kill me because Rias fucking Gremory had somehow marked me with her scent like a bitch in heat. I was going to 'be a warning' (I think) for her and her flunkies to stay clear of… his(? Maybe it was their) 'territory.'

I was going to be killed for the second time this week because of something I knew nothing about. I was going to be killed for the second time this week because yet another asshole thought they could play judge, jury and executioner.

I was going to be killed for the second time this week if I didn't. Fucking. Move.

I dived to the side, into the space between a pair of buildings and watched in bemusement as a fireball lanced past where I had been standing a split second before.

I don't know why I had had that thought. Nor where the sudden surge of power had come from to actually follow it. But considering that I wasn't currently doing a shitty cosplay of Portgas D. Ace, I thought myself extraordinarily lucky.

You know, until the asshole who just tried to set me on fire turned to stand at the entrance of my little hidey-hole, rubbing a red cheek. Looks like he was going to have to use his hand tonight.

"Ha, so the little fuck has a Sacred Gear does he? Too bad it's just a shitty little Twice Critical, huh? Bet you've been cursing the Big Fuck every day since you found you were cursed with something so pathetic."

With the burst of energy came an ability to understand him again. That was unfortunate, I really didn't want to listen to anything this guy could say. Especially if he was about to monologue while he killed me.

Could he be any more of a walking "first enemy" trope?

"Look, asshole, I don't know what you're talking about," I said, trying to contain my panic as I felt awareness of my situation become clearer and clearer. Believe it or not, but I didn't actually want to die. Especially not in such a shitty situation, at the hands of such a shitty guy, because some shitty Fallen Angel had decided to shit all over my life. Somehow, the anger at such a situation was winning over the desperate desire to cower, cry and beg for my life. "So why don't you—"

He threw another fireball at me, and this time there was no miracle instinct that made me dodge.

Instead, there was just me screaming and writhing on the floor.

I was burning. The smell of charred flesh ripe in my nose and unforgettable.

Stop, drop and roll worked, but even still I continued to scream. Screamed, screamed, screamed.

My breath ran out and still I screamed.

My voice went hoarse and I began to sob.

Yujiro laughed, and it felt as though everything but the pain ceased to exist.

"Look at you! So fucking pathetic," he sneered down at my quivering form, arms folded across his chest in a cruel mockery of the way I'd tried fold to my own. "Little boy bitch sprouts a fancy blue gauntlet and thinks he's good enough to talk shit to his betters."

"I… I…" I couldn't say anything. It hurt too much. My chest. My head. Everything hurt so goddamn much.

"Or maybe you just think you're better 'cause you're in a Peerage, is that it? Think you're all safe and cozy from the real players cause you got some little slut tucking you in and letting you nurse on her boobs?" His foot was on top of my head, pressing it into the ground as I cried. "Little dumbass, think just 'cause you have a master you're safe from us? Like we didn't kill our own master and eat his goddamn heart?!

"You think you can stand against a real Devil, dipshit?!" He lifted his foot, and then punted me. Against all conventional thought, what should have at best jarred (or snapped) my neck instead sent me flying down the alley to impact against the wall. "Don't get full of yourself, you noble little fuck!"

Ha. This dumbass. He thought I was some kind of noble? Given all that shit he was saying earlier too, he probably thought I'd been a devil for longer than a week too. Geez, he had an ambush and still hasn't even managed to kill a high schooler. I don't know if he was overconfident or if he just sucked that bad.

Either way, as I lay there numb and defeated, a victim of circumstance and my own damn pride, I felt something flicker to life within me.

If this was my life now, not being able to visit my favourite net cafe 'cause some jumped up nobody would try and kill me, I'd need to pull my head out of my ass.

Gremory and her bum buddies could all go straight back to hell, but if I was going to be forced into a club with them this semester, then they could at least teach me to survive. Teach me who and where to stay away from, and how to get the fuck out of dodge when my life somehow fucked me over anyway.

But first, first I would do something on my own. I couldn't do anything to this guy, not even if he tied every limb behind his back, dressed in a gimp outfit and bent over with his asscheeks spread open. Not physically, at least. I was a teenager whose only modicum of fitness was being able to ride a bike for a couple hours. He was a full grown adult with whatever powers being a devil gave him.

But, Himejima and Sensei had both been clear on something. I had magic. Magic powered through the sheer bullshit power of imagination. And as any teenaged loser can tell you, with imagination you can delude yourself into thinking you're literally a god. Believe in it, and you too can make a world where the sting of insults added to your armour, rather than make you cry.

All I had to do... was believe that justice existed in this world, and everyone should be treated equally.

Next time I'll just imagine him under the Cruciatus curse, it'd probably be more believable.

As it was, the asshole let out a short, yet intense scream. A bellow pulled deep from his chest as I gifted him a short insight into exactly how I felt.

A bittersweet moment, before he seemed to realise what I was doing and just started laughing again.

Dick.

"Ha, that was clever! I wouldn't have taken you for an illusionist of all things. You've got that broody look that just screams wannabe samurai." And you've got that dumbass look that says you're a meat shield, not a flamethrower. "Too bad for you that you suck at them."

"Now then," he took a step toward my broken body, hand once more alight with flame. "Let's tell you what happens from here. I'm going to take this here fire, and I'm going to drop it right on your empty little head. Then you're going to burn, slowly and painfully, as I guide it over every inch of your body. I'm gonna control it so that it burns you away all at the same time, you see? Just a little bit at a time, so that you feel pain everywhere but so that you're slowly just reduced to the important parts. And then, here's the most important part so stick with me, I want you to scream.

"Scream as I turn you into just a body and a head. Then as I burn your organs inside your chest. I need you to scream long and loud so that I'm remembering them until I get my hands on that Yuzu slut again, so I can make her scream louder to forget you. I don't like hurting people you know, but hot damn trying to forget just makes the fucking so good! You understand, right? Ah, who am I kidding, of course you don't."

Quite honestly, I would've liked to have ignored everything he said. But it was pretty damn impossible to ignore the sheer amount of crazy this guy just espoused. I hope that's not a common occurrence in my future. I might just end up deafening myself if it is.

It was as Yujiro loomed over me, the heat of the flame in his hand licking at my face, that my savior arrived on midnight wings. "Oh my, such cruel treatment you've given my poor little pet. I'll need to punish you good."

It was Himejima. Hovering in the air above us, a pleasant smile on her face at complete odds with the cruel malice leaking from her words. Large wings, shaped like a bat's, flared out against the winter sky and blocked what little moonlight that bore witness to the events in that alley.

Yujiro flinched and spun around, the fire in his hand lancing out towards Himejima. Except that by the time he'd completed his spin she was already padding softly on the ground between us. She smiled down at me, worry and concern written all over her face behind the calm facade as she took in my appearance. It might have been the most beautiful sight I'd seen, if only it wasn't also the ugliest.

A slightly sharper face and they'd be twins.

Yujiro must have noticed that he'd missed, because he spun around again, another lance of fire ready to throw. Unlucky for him that Himejima had somehow blinked into space behind him yet again, though this time she grabbed hold of the hand full of fire.

A loud crack rang out into the night as Yujiro's wrist shattered with a single small flex of her fingers.

Himejima didn't give him a chance to recognise the pain as she leaned in against him, wrapping an arm around his throat in a choke. "Such a naughty, naughty boy~! I quite like the sounds of screams too, you see. Seeing someone so proud laid to waste begging you for mercy, it's just such a rush!"

Yujiro's attempted whimper was strangled in his throat when Himejima casually pulled her arm tighter.

"No no no, no sounds, not right now. It's learning time," she said. Her smile was bigger than any I had ever seen, even in the midst of laughing at me. It was cruel, and malevolent, and I realised then just how true Hiratsuka-sensei's words were; if she wanted to hurt me, she could have and would have. "See, screams are only fun when your partner consents to that kind of play. When you just force them, it's no longer mutual fun; just one person's sick amusement from abuse.

"So, when you can't find anyone that wants to scream for you, sometimes you've just gotta make yourself scream!" With every word that slipped from her lips, I realised how shallow a view of the real Himejima Akeno I'd ever caught a glimpse of. So poisonously malicious were her words I imagined I could almost see it drip off her tongue. "But I can see you're nervous. Don't worry, everyone is their first time. So I'll just have to help you!"

The world around us lit up. A crack of thunder echoed through my very being and electricity began to course over the two devils in front of me.

And then the screaming began.

Yujiro screamed and writhed seeking an escape from Himejima's impossible strength.

He was burning. The smell of charred flesh ripe in my nose and unforgettable.

There was no stop drop and roll to counter this though. Electricity burns are much different to those caused by fire. He just continued to scream. Screamed, screamed, screamed.

His breath ran out and still he screamed.

His voice went hoarse and he began to scream louder.

Himejima laughed, high and cruel, a wicked witch in the flesh. Yujiro's screams were the centre of her world.

And then it came to an end. The electricity stopped. The screaming stopped. Himejima's laugh stopped.

Her face was deathly calm as Yujiro whimpered in her arms. One around his neck, the other now wrapped beneath his right arm, holding it high.

"Stray Devil Takashi Yujiro, you who lost yourself to Great Sin and partook in the murder of your Master, Daz Haagenti. By the judgement of the Marquis Gremory, you forfeit your life. May you find peace in knowing the rest of your Peerage of traitors shall be swift to follow."

And, with a snap of her hips, Himejima lifted Takashi Yujiro, arched her back, and brought him crashing down on top of his head. The crack of his neck pierced clean through the ringing in my ears.

A katahajime suplex.

She killed him with a katahajime suplex.

Himejima let go of the dead Stray and gracefully rose back to her feet, brushing at the back of her shirt for whatever dirt that might have stuck to it in the split second she was on the ground.

She hurried over my way and began fretting over me, but with Yujiro dead the adrenaline I hadn't even noticed was starting to fade. Before I passed out though, there was one pressing question I needed to ask:

"What the hell is a Twice Critical?"


For reference, this is a Katahajime Suplex: [dead link is dead, thanks FFN]

So yeah, I promised this to be out about 7 months ago, but depression is a bitch. And for those who aren't aware: trying to write an even more depressed asshole when you're already in a funk is bad for you people. Please don't do it.

Good news is I graduated (and started studying a different thing, yay). I got a job (I knock off and my brain is dead for the day). And now I got this done (planned for the anniversary, but my edit monkeys suck and have lives).

...holy fuck 4 chapters in 13 months I'd hoped to have so much more done by now.

Anyway, my life is busy and I only get a chance to write every now and then. What that means, for the sake of this fic, is that I'm going to take the time to completely plot out the next 20 or so chapters as I begin to settle into it properly and get a good balance going while I work on chapter 5 a bit at a time.

I'm not going to promise a time frame, because evidently I suck at that, but I will try and have the next chapter out in a shorter time frame than this one. And when it comes out, the rest shouldn't be too long to follow.