White Void

by Rosso Angelo

His world is void. A meaningless void. And yet, he yearns for something more. Something that can't be simply obtained in a dull and monotone life. In order to achieve that something, to find some meaning to that life he's given up on, he's willing to pay any cost... even if it kills him.

1. Hollow

Hello, my good fellows. I'm Rosso Angelo.

So, I actually wrote and posted this story before, a long time ago, but when I thought it wasn't possible to keep writing it, I just stopped and erased it. Sorry about that, for all of those who were expecting me to update.

But now I'm back, and with a brand new version! I hope y'all like this.

Notice: yes, the main character of this story is an OC. No, he's not an overpowered deity or something. And no, there's NO harem for anyone.

Notice (2): the first seven chapters of this story (including the prologue) were completely revamped. Due to some pacing issues and the sheer amount of content there is, each chapter is rather long (read: gargantuan). My advice is for you to read them at a moderate pace instead of bingue-reading or your head may explode. I'm not responsible if you find it irresistible and continue reading though. ;D

I do not own High School DxD, but I own this story.

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Prologue – Hollow

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Darkness engulfed the world, devouring everything and all. It was black, dark, nebulous. Golden cracks ran through the abyss. They pulsated grotesquely, casting light on shadows that could not be seen. These yellowish veins ran through him as well, feeding off of his existence like parasites. He was left sick and bewitched in the belly of the beast.

In that empty, hollow place, he lost perception of himself.

He was and then he wasn't. The darkness was and continued to be. Seconds ticked by. Time slowly abandoned him to a limbo of his own making, a place where he did not exist. Each little moment let him inch closer to disappearance. Something like reluctance prevented him from vanishing completely, but the urge to fade was always there.

Alive or dead… these words made no sense, did not have an impact on his fading consciousness, as he was becoming nothing. He detached himself from everything real and everything known, diluting his consciousness till nothing but a hazy recollection of himself remained.

This instant of sweet oblivion stretched into the infinite. A powerful calmness washed over him. All feeling of resistance melted away. He was relaxed into acknowledging that this was good, what he wanted.

He surrendered himself to the void. Or that would've been his plan, if reality didn't come knocking on the door at that moment.

"Wake up, Ayame!"

The door of his room was kicked open. An annoying noise he could begrudgingly categorize as a voice came right after, as if making sure to disturb his sleep for good. He cracked his eyes open.

The morning sunlight peering through the balcony's window greeted him, rewarded him with its warmth. It forced him to blink a few times to adjust his vision. He stared at an unimportant direction, bleary mind and blurry sight mixed into the best combination to adorn his violent awakening.

He breathed in one time. He bit down a cough caused by the sudden air intake. His chest slightly burned, lungs aching as they accepted oxygen in their embrace.

He raised his body with indisposition, sitting on the bed. One of his hands lazily travelled across his face, moving pieces of sprawled hair out of his line of sight.

His eyes travelled to where the door was. The light coming from the hallway shone into a hermit's place of choice. The dark atmosphere of a lazy teenager's room was illuminated for all to see and admire.

Another teenager stood beneath his door's threshold. The bit of brightness shining from behind him highlighted the silhouette of his cheery expression.

In the darkness of the room, the one in bed stared at his opposite neutrally. He pursed his lips. A tired scowl shifted his darkened face.

"Good morning, Issei," came out his calm, faint voice. "I believe I already told you to stop waking me up like this. It's annoying."

"Ya wouldn't even wake up if I didn't help you, and we gotta make better use of yer time, man," said the other without missing a beat.

He covered a yawn with his hand. Even in darkness, Issei's impatience still bled through. He was nothing short of a little kid wanting to go to the candy store. That candy store was actually their school, and, of course, the candies were…

"As yer brother, it is my natural duty to introduce you to the world of beautiful women, Ayame! I'll search for each and every single pretty girl if I must just to show ya that it ain't no waste of time! It's much better than sleeping all day."

…Female students.

Issei stomped his way into the dangerous territory of a deadbeat, avoiding clothes that had been thrown haphazardly on the ground.

Ayame flopped back on his bed.

His scowl worsened for a second. It was almost painful to hear his sibling's dirty rambling. Anyone with a sliver of lucidity could instantly conclude Issei wasn't the sharpest knife in the kitchen. Some enlightened ones would ponder if he was fit to be a knife at all.

He was more of a spoon. A well-rounded idiot, more or less flat and without any actual depth, so to speak. If only everyone else was kind enough to see him as a harmless utensil and nothing else, life would have been easier.

"…Not everyone shares your exaggerated tastes in women, Issei," Ayame groggily muttered as he kicked his blanket away. "And I'm not going to develop a sweet tooth for women just because you keep pestering me about which girls I like or what part of the female body is my favorite. Are you that desperate to win a gamble against your stupid friends or what?"

"N-No." Ayame idly noted the small pause in Issei's response. "I'm just trying to add some flavor to yer life, you lazy ass. Without me here, ya would probably die a virgin!"

That sounded worse if taken out of context, in a way.

"B-Besides, even if I did lay bets with my pals, which I ain't," quickly added Issei, "I only put my money on ya bein' straight. There's word that you… eh… swing the other way. Or somethin'."

"…Or something," repeated Ayame. "How much of our parents' allowance did you throw away?"

"I-I didn't bet anything', I told ya!" Issei denied. "Buuuut, if I did decide to make a bet… I guess it'd be around… two thousand yen? Anyhow, that ain't important! The important part is that I'm always on yer side, see! I have faith in yer heterosexuality!"

"Uh-huh," mumbled Ayame. "So you're just an imbecile."

Ayame got out of bed. His feet stomped on the floor. He cracked his neck to one side, then to the other. Standing straight, he was definitely taller than Issei by a couple of inches. The later was kind of self-conscious about the height difference. The taller brother didn't care, except to bully his sibling into silence when his rants about bountiful lands full of single women became a bother to listen to.

Issei approached his brother and grabbed him by his shoulders. "Anyway, c'mon, bro! School club activities start early in the morning! If we hurry, we can see some real beauties before classes begin-"

Issei's shoulders were grabbed by skinny, pale hands. He gawked in surprise, stopping mid-sentence.

"Do get out of my room. You can tell me about your perverse ideas later," Ayame ordered without missing a beat. He roughly forced Issei out of his room.

The door clicked as it closed after kicking out the intruder. His brother's voice became distant. Ayame was left alone in his dark room. His steady breathing and the morning light peeking from the window were the only things breaking the monotony now.

A sigh escaped from his lips.

What a pain. He thought it would be a good thing if one day he didn't wake up anymore. It was easier to just disappear rather than pretend he actually had energy to spare.

Even waking up had become a terrible chore. Actually getting up was even harder. Sometimes he wondered whether cleaning his room or prioritizing his daily activities was more important. In the end, he concluded neither was.

His room was not important. His responsibilities were not important.

Nothing was important at all, and he cared as much.

Ayame looked around the unlit environment. Every now and then a slight feeling of guilt prompted him to order his bedroom a bit. Yet, after seeing the dirty clothes, the wrinkled sheets, the crumbs of food, and the papers thrown to the floor, he wondered if going through the trouble would actually change anything. He did clean everything once. The only difference was that no smelly rags or his uncomfortable bed would distract him from his depressive thoughts. He cleaned only when the disorder was physically unbearable, but not much else aside from that.

His mother still prompted him from time to time. She would say a tidy room led to a healthy lifestyle. He tried to believe in her, but there was just no helping it. She still insisted nonetheless. Sometimes he felt bad for making her clean in his stead. Her smiley faces could become forced if he was particularly unwilling to cooperate, but she still did her best. Then, he couldn't help but to contemplate if he deserved such care and love from anyone.

Maybe it was for the best if he didn't exist at all. It would mean fewer problems for anyone else and less bothersome stuff for him to deal with.

He went to his closet to get his school uniform. His blue shirt and white shorts were thrown away. He wasn't specially set on putting them anywhere else that wasn't the floor. His uniform was a black blazer over a white shirt. Black pants completed the outfit. A brand-new belt slid through its gaps, adjusting the cloth tight against his thin waist. A set of black shoes encased his feet.

Before going out, Ayame's sight fell on the nightstand alongside his bed. His eyes focused more on the object resting over it. The teenager walked forward and took ahold of it. Ayame lifted the thing up in the light where it could be seen.

It was some sort of stylized scarf. It was pure black in color, with golden edges and small golden patterns across its surface.

He felt the cloth's softness with his fingers. His obscured expression slightly relaxed.

"Can't go out without you."

Ayame neatly tied the scarf around his neck. He stuffed it inside his shirt in an ascot style.

He turned his head and stared at the balcony's window.

Reflected on the glass was the blurred image of a teenager. His straight brown hair was long enough to brush his shoulders, and long enough to cover his face with rebellious strands everywhere. His skin was sickly pale. It looked even more ghastly with the morning light of the sun passing through the balcony.

His brilliant blue eyes gleamed, even in the darkness of the room. If looked in a specific light, one could say they were even glimmering.

With nothing else to do in the place he would gladly use as his grave, he left.

He reached the dining room of the house in a matter of seventeen blinks—he did actually count—and was instantly greeted by one of the few people that bothered to remember his name. Issei was somewhere else at the moment.

Haruto, his father, was reading a book while sipping coffee on the table. He looked up as soon as Ayame appeared. He smiled and winked through his glasses.

"Good morning, lad," said the man. "I'd ask if you slept well, but you're looking absolutely knackered. Why don't you eat something? Your mother's food always lifts my spirits before going to work."

"Good morning, Father." Ayame took the closest chair he could find and sat down. "Mother does cook pretty well. But I'm not sure if my twisted guts are willing to receive a good meal anymore."

Haruto laughed. "Now, now, eating will probably make your tummy feel better. Maybe skipping supper as often as you do is the actual problem, don't you think?"

"Maybe it is. You do the same, though."

"Ahhh, that's a low blow. But you know I can't help it. I've been correcting a lot of my kids' bloody homework lately. I don't have time for anything." The man sighed. "Being a teacher has its ups and downs, mate. You have to be committed. With your attitude, maybe pursuing mummy's career would suit you better, if you ask me. You are at that age when you should consider studying something after all."

Ayame numbly acknowledged his opinion with a nod. His mother, Nozomi, hadn't failed to appear at that moment.

"Haruto, darling, what did we say about that?" said the woman in question. "Ayame can be lots of things! In the end it's his decision and I really wouldn't enjoy seeing my baby boy working in the force. It can be a dangerous job!"

Ayame turned his head towards the voice. His mother was wearing a suit, complete with a pitch-black jacket, tie, pants and boots. Her brown hair was tied in a ponytail on the back of her head. She was prepared to go work. On both hands were trays with breakfast ready on them.

"As dangerous as pushing pens and stamping papers can be, of course…" mentioned Haruto. "If anything, I think you'd enjoy it if there were quite a few more crimes to stop."

Nozomi huffed as she set the trays on the table.

"Just because I enjoy some action doesn't mean I actively search for it," said the woman. "This city is peaceful enough for my family and I'm grateful for that. I simply prefer for my son to be as far away from danger as possible if it comes to it! Ah, good morning sweetie. Eat lotsa food and enjoy your breakfast~"

She planted a kiss on Ayame's head.

In that instant, probably attracted by the smell of food, appeared Issei. Ayame looked at him.

His wild brown hair was completely messy and pointed in all directions. It was lengthy enough to reach his nape. His vibrant brown eyes made a good mix with the color of his mane. He was of average height, although it didn't show with him so full of energy.

He wore a black blazer over an unbuttoned white shirt with vertical black linings, and a red T-shirt underneath. His black pants were loose, baggy, and the only thing keeping them in place was a belt. The dark blue shoes he was wearing were a bit out of place with the clothing.

He quickly saluted his parents with smiles and hugs, and then sat alongside Ayame. It didn't take long before the brute began wolfing down on his food with a jarring lack of manners. Ayame couldn't scowl harder even if he tried.

At some point Issei stole a glance at Ayame.

He munched on his meal, loudly. He spoke.

"Wha a you stiff werin' thaft scaff?"

Ayame looked down on his breakfast. Emotionlesness painted his features. He refused to speak with animals who gabbled with their mouths full. Soon enough Issei realized his mistake, gulped, and offered a silly smile.

"Sorry," he murmured sheepishly. "Anyway, I asked why yer wearing that old scarf dude! You'll never conquer beautiful women usin' ugly rags fer clothes!"

If Ayame was offended from the remark, he didn't really show it.

"It's a gift. You don't usually throw those away no matter how old or useless they get," he responded. "Maybe when our parents aren't the only ones giving you presents out of pity, you'll understand."

Issei hummed. He didn't seem to understand or mind the insult thrown at him.

"So that's a gift, eh," he said the obvious. "From whom may it be…?"

The brunet rubbed his nose thoughtfully. After a few seconds of reflection, he gasped and jumped from his seat. He stared down at Ayame with a betrayed and guffawed look, all in one.

"For someone without friends like you to get a gift… I knew it! There must be a pretty girl ya haven't told me about! She must have given you that!" Issei's declaration was met with a dispirited glare from his older brother. "And you even kept 'er in secret… Sharin' is carin', dude! I thought we were brothers! You don't betray yer own blood!"

Some said that silence was worth more than a thousand words. The idea was acquiring a lot of relevance considering how empty Issei's endless rambling could be at times.

"Don't pull stupid conclusions out of nowhere, dimwit. I've had this scarf for years. If I had had a hidden lover, even someone as gullible as you would have noticed. Now shut up."

"I ain't shuttin' up when yer bein' a traitor beneath my own damn nose!" accused the teenager. "Dad, ain'tcha gonna say somethin'?!"

Haruto choked on the gulp of coffee he was taking at that moment. He stared at both of them with wide eyes, and then shrugged.

"I mean, baby, your senior isn't the kind of person who'd lie about something if it'll get him in trouble," he conceded. "Besides, you can be as thick as two short planks, Ise. Let's say you're not the most adequate to read the mood or discover a secret."

"'Thick as two short planks…' What the hell does that even mean?!" yelled Issei while scratching his hair. "Yer usin' weird phrases again, dad! Are ya callin' me stupid?!"

"No, Ise, no. That's a bit too harsh."

"Yes. Calling you stupid is an insult to all the stupid people of this world," added Ayame. "You're, in fact, retarded."

Issei was about to bark a new comeback. Thankfully, Nozomi interceded before things took a turn for the worse. She was bringing her own meal to the table.

"Hey, settle down! I hate to see the three guys I love the most bickering like kiddies." They obeyed Nozomi's command almost immediately. Even Issei sat down. "Ayame, don't bully your little brother. Issei, don't get jealous over stupid assumptions. And Haruto!"

The man looked at his wife tiredly. "What, sugar? I didn't do anything."

Nozomi stuck out her tongue.

"It's nothing. I just wanted to tell you that I love you, pumpkin~"

Haruto whiped his head in another direction. He covered his mouth, but a low giggle could be heard. A moment later his fatigued expression returned anew. He did look a bit brighter, though.

Before sitting down to eat, Nozomi approached Ayame. She began ruffling his brown hair with a loving smile.

"Issei may be a dummy when it comes to women and relationships, but you should consider getting a partner, Ayame," advised the woman affectionately. "Life is better enjoyed with the people you love at your side. Besides, you have a handsome face! If you smiled more often, you could make a lot of girls swoon~"

A mouthful of food stopped just before his lips. Ayame then shook his head.

"…Thanks. But I'm not interested in a girlfriend," responded the brunet. "Relationships sound like a problematic matter."

Issei, of course, didn't miss the opportunity to jump in with an idiotic commentary.

"Problematic, heh?" murmured the younger teenager mischievously. "Hey, bro. Is it possible that you… ya know… have extravagant tastes in love…?"

"I'm not gay."

Issei got up, slapped the table and laughed.

"Fuck yeah! Two thousand yen are in the bag, baby!"

"Language, Issei!" yelled Nozomi, making Issei flinch. Her expression then turned sour. "And what is this about 'two thousand yen in the bag', you little rascal…?"

"N-Nothin'! Nothin' at all, hahaha…"

Nozomi glowered suspiciously. Her youngest son went back to his seat with a nervous laugh. Breakfast continued and some forgettable conversations would arise and fall every now and then. Issei would make foolish comments from time to time, and Ayame would accept his sibling's quirkiness in silence. It was their usual show of brotherly love or so Issei called it while the older brunet only frowned in response.

They eventually finished eating. The family stood at the entrance, everyone ready to bid farewell for the rest of the day.

"Have a great, great day at school, my big boys!" Nozomi pulled both siblings into a tight and loving hug. Issei hugged back with an embarrassed expression. Ayame seemed stiff for a second, but he did the same expressionlessly.

"Don't get in trouble, kiddos." Haruto gave each boy a friendly slap on the back. "Especially you, Issei. Ayame, make sure your little brother doesn't get beaten up by another group of lasses. Again."

"Followin' my desires ain't getting in trouble, dad!" shot back Issei with a slight blush.

The parents smiled sweetly. Ayame simply remained silent.

With everything said and done, the adults went to work, and the children to study.

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- ~DxD~ -

Kuoh Academy was a relatively young school founded by a European magnate who moved to Japan some years ago. It gained lots of prestige in its little namesake town, Kuoh. The school's presence made Kuoh itself a more attractive place to visit in return. Quality education, luxurious infrastructure… every parent wanted their children to go to the dream school.

It only accepted female applicants at first. But the number of students rapidly rose up and someone thought it was a profitable decision to accept even more. Thus, male students were finally allowed just in time for Ayame and Issei to attend. The ratio of girls-to-boys studying was a bit unbalanced in consequence. Nonetheless, new school activities were created and more buildings were constructed in record time to accommodate the co-ed alumni.

Kuoh Academy was a place for the elite. It only accepted the crème-de-la-crème, the smartest, the most athletic, and the ones who shone the brightest… except when it didn't. By throwing in a good sum of money, anyone could bypass the pretense this school had of being an impeccable establishment.

Ayame didn't know why he expected anything different. Kuoh Academy was a school like any other at the end of the day.

The stupid teenage drama was there. There were girls gossiping and blushing at the sight of cute boys, boys ogling at sexy girls and then acting like irremediable idiots outside of judging views, and nagging teachers sharing their daily diatribe of students and their wasted potential.

Everything about Kuoh Academy was irritating in some way or another. The building itself gave the somewhat false impression of digity and regality, though.

Kuoh Academy was many buildings put together, actually. The institute was encircled by red brick walls and its full territory would be that of several supermarkets in terms of space occupied. There were big grassy fields for physical education, inner gardens, and numerous buildings for different uses. It was just... big. Too big for a normal school, honestly.

Ayame and Issei had arrived a bit early. There were only a few students happily chatting as they walked through the school's entrance, ready for club activities before classes began.

"…And so, they pursued me around the whole campus, and bonked me on the head with friggin' shinais!" exclaimed Issei, gesticulating and mimicking a wide sword swing to make a point. "I mean, dude, I know I may be a teensy bit annoying sometimes. But that kind of thing could kill me!"

"You were peeking on girls who smack each other with bamboo swords. How did you think they were going to react?" Ayame's question got a frustrated groan out of Issei. "Pick your targets better. The Kendo club is too much for an idiot like you. Or better yet, stop perving on women altogether. "

"Never!" Issei instantly refused. "I ain't gonna stop appreciating women's bodies just cuz I got a few bruises 'n scrapes. Quitters never win, and winners never quit!"

Ayame sighed for the tenth time during their morning stroll. He feared he would deflate if this kept going on. He couldn't help showing disappointment every time his brother shared his perverted adventures and their tragic finales.

"If only you had that kind of attitude when doing homework, you'd save yourself a lot of trouble," pointed out the older brunet. "But I guess there's only so much blood in the human body to keep one brain functioning correctly. Continue thinking with your lower half and see how that goes."

"I've got the feeling yer tryin' to call me stupid," reasoned Issei. "But you ain't gettin' it, dude. We're in the best time of our lives, the pinnacle of youth! We oughta enjoy ourselves a little and meet some sexy women while we're at it, hehehe~"

Ayame shook his head.

"For a moment I thought you evolved, using complicated words like 'pinnacle'. Then again, the fact you don't understand how criminal it is to peek on girls speaks volumes of your denseness. I'd like a refund from Mother Nature for this unnecessary being I call a brother."

"No refunds, kid! Only store credit."

The older sibling didn't have the will nor time to articulate a new insult. Issei caught sight of something interesting ahead. He called out with a loud voice.

"Yo, Matsuda, Motohama!"

Ayame felt his face twisting into an awry expression. Those names were the sure antecedent to a headache. He glared forward, directing visible disgust at the students Issei was talking to and yet trying to pretend he didn't see them at all.

Matsuda was a nearly bald guy with tiny eyes. Motohama, on the other hand, was a shorty with thick glasses and brown hair.

They were Issei's best friends.

Unfortunately, they were Issei's friends.

"Issei, ya bastard!" greeted Matsuda while waving a hand, smiling. "For a second I thought you were bailing your ass out of our wager! I didn't forget about it, so don't even try running away!"

Ayame stared at Issei from the corner of his eyes. Issei shrugged and laughed nervously. Said nervousness quickly vanished and Issei simply strutted towards his pals while oozing confidence that would put Napoleon to shame.

"Why would I run away, dude?" said Issei as he bumped fists with Matsuda. "I came 'ere to get mine spoils of war, if ya catch my drift…"

Motohama pushed his glasses up in an attempt to appear serious or intelligent. Knowing him, he was neither. "Hmph. You speak with a lot of courage, Issei Hyoudou. May we know the source of your conviction before you empty your wallet?"

Issei rubbed his nose, not shaken by his friend's tone in the slightest.

"Ain't no wallet to be emptied other than yours, you bunch of pricks," assured the brunet. "My bro's straight as an arrow. Heard it from his mouth, two times. Hand the cash over. If you want confirmation, you can ask the man himself."

Issei threw a thumb over his shoulder, pointing at his older brother. Matsuda and Motohama tilted their heads and looked at him. They had irritated looks on their faces. Ayame scrunched his face into a nasty expression of his own. The stare down continued for a few seconds, till one spoke.

"Is that true, Ayame-senpai? Issei sucks ass at lying, but I would think it twice before concluding you were full hetero." Motohama eyed Ayame through his glasses.

"Yeah, I don't believe it for a second dude," agreed Matsuda. "Why don't you prove it to us, Ayame-senpai? You could hit on some girls while we're at it. Or they ain't your preferred type of people, eh?"

Ayame chewed on his tongue with an annoyed expression.

"I don't have to prove anything to anyone. Least of all you. Now piss off, you band of mongoloids."

Both idiots stared at each other smugly.

"That sounds like something someone trapped in the closet would say."

"Yeah, man. I don't think I'm parting with my money anytime soon."

Issei rolled his eyes and put his hands behind his head. "Whatever, guys. He didn't admit to anything, so I ain't givin' ya shit either."

They were so annoying. Nevertheless, this was but a quantum of the entire bullshit Ayame put up with when dealing with them on a daily basis.

He wasn't alone in his negative opinion, however. The collective mind of Kuoh Academy began to react as the presence of these loonies grew stronger. Many students, majorly female ones, whipped their heads in the trio's direction upon hearing their voices. They mimicked Ayame's annoyed glare, though their loathing was mixed with anger as well.

"Oh my god, these three idiots again…?"

"I swear they get more irritating each time I see them. Maybe they're planning something disgusting again."

"No, no. It's impossible for them to plan something without a brain. They act on instinct… like monkeys."

"At least monkeys are tolerable animals, unlike these failed specimens."

Ayame didn't like Kuoh Academy at all. He liked the students even less. But at least there was one thing he and his classmates agreed on for once.

Issei and his friends weren't…. liked, for a lack of better word. Peeking on the women's dressing rooms was the daily bread for them, followed by a brutal beating in school grounds courtesy of the girls.

Issei and his friends didn't care, of course. They smiled at each other like goofs, as if the insults thrown at them were music for their ears. They ignored the hateful looks directed at them and began walking away.

"Man, I was really betting on Ayame-senpai liking men. I still think he's hiding something, though."

"Makes you think how a pretty boy like him wouldn't try get a girlfriend. I hate to admit it, but dude's got the looks," pondered Motohama. "If only he was a girl, we'd have a bombshell in our hands. Plus, that rotten personality would actually make her look cuter."

Matsuda crossed his arms, a depressed look flashing across his face.

"Ugh, it pisses me off just thinking about it. Dammit, God! Why didn't you give Issei a beautiful big sister?! Do you hate us that much?!"

"…I wouldn't let ya degenerates near my sister if I ever had one."

After that, they were too far away for their obtuse conversation to be heard.

That's how the mornings usually played out.

Ayame huffed. He decided to walk into the school's main building before anyone asked him why he was interacting with the most infamous student in Kuoh Academy.

He vaguely regarded the school, bored. The source of his daily exasperation hadn't changed much since he walked out of it the day before. The big, elegant buildings of Kuoh Academy had seemed slightly intimidating a few years ago when Ayame was still a freshman. Now, they were a reminder of how utterly tiresome was to attend a school for rich kids.

The bright side was that this was his last year of high school. Just a bit more and he would finally leave this useless part of his life behind.

Then… he would move on to the next meaningless milestone.

Nothing would change.

He managed to drag himself into school.

The halls were spacious and bright. The floors were so polished that anyone who decided to look down would see their pristine reflection on it. Wide windows were lined across the walls, with panes and sash bars arranged in flower patterns. A clean white hue similar of marble painted the walls. The stairs leading to the upper floors were of upholstered wood. One could even see some actual chandeliers in important places like the school's reception room. There were some extravagant paintings hanged here and there from authors Ayame could not name. Some statues were placed for everyone to see and admire, though it was hard to decipher if they depicted important people or were from an artist's imagination.

Whoever built this school had a lot of money and wanted to make it obvious. Ayame wondered who was bored enough to construct a giant school in a forgettable Japanese town.

Kuoh Academy was pretentious to the point of being a bother. But at least the architecture was enjoyable to look at. Mindlessly admiring the sceneries was one of the things Ayame enjoyed, more or less. It distracted him from the fact he had around six hours of useless classes with people he detested.

It was still early. Some students had arrived early for club activities or just to pass the time. He wouldn't bump into far too many people in the hallways. Plus, Issei was not around to pester him.

His brother was the much lesser evil, though. There was another annoyance in this school. A rotting, festering cancer that had taken on a human shape. So horrible and unbearable this annoyance was, Ayame actually preferred Issei over her.

He hated her. No... not hate. Hate would've implied he actually made a conscious effort to despise her guts. She'd gained that merit all by her lonesome. Considering Ayame usually didn't give a damn about anything, the accomplishment deserved a medal.

Of course, this annoyance was not without a name. Even putrid entities like her had parents who thought she'd grow into a decent human being, and of course, they blessed her with a name.

Just thinking about it made him feel ill. This annoyance, this bothersome existence, went by the name of—

"My, my, fancy seeing you here, Ayame-chan~"

…

…

…

…'Speak of the Devil and he shall appear,' went the saying.

Ayame also had a curse. He could invoke the things that annoyed him the most by thinking about them. Or God found his struggling amusing enough to lead his feet towards the things and people he disliked, purely because they existed and liked to remind him they did.

"I can barely contain my happiness upon seeing you, Himejima," responded Ayame. "I don't remember letting you call me by my first name. I might be suffering a terrible memory disease, or maybe you're just trying to be irritating."

Ayame didn't bother to face the owner of the voice humming his name so sweetly it made him sick. This person let out a girly giggle as she matched her pace to the teen's own.

"C'mon, don't be like that. I think there's a certain charm to your name! Plus, it's cuter than just calling you Hyoudou-chan~" she said. "If it bothers you, we can make it even and you can call me Akeno in return. Just be mindful people may get the wrong impression and talk about us~"

Ayame frowned as a thought flashed across his mind.

'I'll carve you open and throw you into the nearest river.'

Of course, he wouldn't do that. That was way too messy and way, way too merciful for the woman in question. She didn't deserve such amount of attention or effort either.

"You're making a weird face, Ayame-chan. Are you thinking about bad things again~?"

"Nothing you should be concerned about."

After a few seconds, Ayame firmly planted his feet on the ground and stopped walking. He turned his head mechanically.

The girl talking to him was, in a few words, stunningly gorgeous.

She had long, straight raven-black hair. A ponytail was neatly tied on the back of her head with a gaudy yellow ribbon. Bangs of hair covered her forehead, and two sidelocks flowed alongside her cheeks. The interesting violet color that adorned her pupils granted her a mysterious aura. Her skin had a soft pink tone, producing a stark contrast with her hair.

She was wearing Kuoh Academy's female uniform. It consisted of a white buttoned shirt with vertical black linings, a black cape over her shoulders, a matching corset of the same color, thigh high socks and a magenta skirt. The young woman wore her clothes rather well. She possessed an hourglass figure, with chest and hips so big she would put many grown women to shame. Her body was a mix of fitness and delicacy, with thick lengthy legs and thin gentle arms.

Her name was Akeno Himejima. She was a third year student, motive of gossip for being one of the most beautiful girls in school.

She was very beautiful. He wouldn't argue with objective facts and pretend he was dense regarding beauty standards or his own preferences in women.

She also was a pain in Ayame's ass.

Ayame and Akeno weren't friends. They spoke with each other a couple of times during high school and that was the full story. For some reason, she decided to reveal her true nature—that of a walking migraine—and began harassing him out of nowhere.

Ayame despised her. Akeno enjoyed pissing him off. Her reasons weren't clear and the brunet didn't expect them to be. He just wanted her to die, but cockroaches were known for not perishing easily.

"Go to a circus if you want to find a clown. I'm not the best candidate if funny reactions are what you want to see," said Ayame.

"Hmm? Oh, no, no, Ayame-chan. You got it all wrong," she assured while dismissively waving a hand. "I'm not trying to laugh at you or something. I just enjoy talking with you. I do admit your responses tend to be cute or silly, so forgive me if I poke your eye with a stick from time to time~"

She got slightly closer and spoke in a whispery voice. Her breath tickled his neck and he wanted nothing more than to sidestep her and go away. He held his ground nonetheless. He knew he would simply elicit amusement out of her if he did anything to show she made him uncomfortable.

"Besides, you actually look at me in the eye while we're talking, unlike some guys I know." A smirk and a sneaky wink followed the tidbit of information. "It's hard to find a good conversation partner when most can't stop their gaze from gravitating below my chin~"

"Yes. I lose sleep wondering why that happens," answered the brunet with a sigh. "It may be a widespread deficit of IQ points, or people our age being too hormonal. I wouldn't know. I do know you like the shameless staring."

Akeno laughed softly. She covered her mouth, half-lidded eyes glancing at Ayame.

"Ah, you got me. Yes, it feels delightful to know that my body can garner such undivided attention from my peers. But the world is not a museum and I'm not just for looking~"

Ayame rolled his eyes. The raven-haired teenager smiled.

"I meant that I prefer people who can keep up without getting distracted for petty things~" clarified the mischievous Akeno. "Which is why you'll end up dealing with moi till death do us part~"

"The way in which you construct your sentences is going to give me an aneurysm. Stop talking to me."

She closed her eyes serenely, hiding her hands behind her.

"There's no need to be mean, Ayame-chan~" She almost sounded like she was speaking to a child. As if she wasn't annoying already. "I know you can be shy and everything, but try to accept a subtle compliment. I'm saying you're fun~"

Ayame looked at no particular direction as his lips quirked upwards in a small, pained smile. "I'm starting to believe this world feels delight in torturing me. In what language do I need to speak to let you know I want you gone?"

Akeno giggled again.

"You say a lot of unwise stuff, but you should know any person needs a bit of excitement in their lives. I'm happy to provide some of that~"

"Please don't speak as if you knew what's best for me." His smile disappeared, replaced with an expressionless face again. A tactical retreat was in order and he couldn't wait to be out of her view and reach. "As much as I want to enjoy your general existence around me, I want to get to my classroom. Goodbye."

Ayame felt a tug on his blazer as he tried to escape a fate worse than death.

"Ah, ah, Ayame-chan. I know that my beauty is making you lose your focus, but I think you're forgetting something." He could almost hear her smile as she spoke lazily. "We're in the same class, Ayame-chan. I go where you go~"

Akeno probably didn't notice, but Ayame's left eye was twitching.

---

- ~DxD~ -

"….Remember that relative clauses are segments of a sentence in which extra information is presented, often to support the main topic of said sentence or to avoid repeating the subject itself. They're usually introduced by relative pronouns, or as I prefer to call them, 'relativizers'. They can be who, which, where, when, or that, and of course, their respective variations if they're referring to an object or are in possessive form."

This was Mr. Nakamura, an English teacher in his thirties or something. Groomed and well-dressed as he was, he still couldn't hide the tiredness in his voice or the exhaustion on his face. Nonetheless, he clearly knew his stuff and was more passionate about the English language than anyone had the right to be.

The chalk scratched the blackboard in swift motions. The teacher jotted down English sentences alongside their Japanese translations, his lettering pristine.

"Relative clauses present extra information, but 'extra' doesn't always mean 'unnecessary'. For example, in the sentence 'the man that is walking down the street is my uncle', would you say that the relative clause can be omitted?"

There was a silence that lasted for a few seconds before someone raised their hand.

"N-No, you have to keep it there," the student responded, a bit unsure at the beginning. "It's important to know that the man walking down the street is the uncle. If you take away the relative clause, it sounds like any random guy could be your uncle, I think…"

"Correct, Aihara-kun," praised the teacher. "Some relative clauses are obligatory; without them, the sentence doesn't any make sense or is far too unspecific. These are the 'defining' or 'restrictive' relative clauses, because they have essential information. Now, what can you tell me about 'Yamada, who is on a vacation in China, sent me an email'?"

Another student raised their hand. It was a girl, now.

"Yes, teacher," called out the girl. "Here you can avoid the relative clause. The sentence already tells you about Yamada and the fact he sent you an email. Knowing he's on a vacation in China doesn't add anything of value."

"Good job, Hikari-kun. Excellent explanation," said the older man with a hint of good humor. "These relative clauses are 'non-defining' or 'non-restrictive', and they're only useful as a way of telling you a nice little fact that isn't really important. Let me give you a tip: non-defining relative clauses are usually, if not always, between commas."

Mr. Nakamura made a point of it by underlining the respective clauses on the blackboard.

"Here is where it starts to get tricky. Some relative clauses don't have a relativizer to introduce them at all – and yes, I know it's annoying," he quickly added as some students began groaning. "They are the 'reduced relative clauses'. Sometimes we can find these with a verb in the progressive tense. Take for example 'The woman wearing that beautiful dress is Mari'. Do you notice what's missing there?"

Some heads began turning and whispers were heard. There was a moment of realization and a couple of boys and girls raised their hands at the same time, whispering a drowned "me!" before noticing their classmates did the same. Mr. Nakamura picked a guy out of the bunch, and he quickly responded.

"You can write 'who is' before 'wearing', but since it's a reduced relative clause, you can also just skip it."

The teacher gave the student a thumbs-up and a tired smile. "Excellent. Yes, that's right. However, be mindful that not all relative clauses require an '–ing' verb to be omitted. One easy example to think about is 'This is the man that I saw', where you can take away 'that'."

Mr. Nakamura wrote and spoke at the same time. He somehow managed to flick his wrist at impressive speeds, leaving behind masterful strokes on the blackboard and never getting too far ahead of his explanation.

The man stabbed the chalk one last time on the blackboard and then pulled away with a sigh. He turned around to look at his class, playing with the white bar and twirling it around his fingers.

"Before we finish, answer me this," said Mr. Nakamura, resolutely. "What is the golden rule of relativizers?"

The entire class was silenced. Then, almost as if it was a practiced sketch where everyone shared the same collective mind, they responded.

"You never, ever write 'that' after a comma if it's a relative pronoun."

The reply was uttered in unison. Some said so with a chuckle and others seemed a bit exasperated as they spoke up, but they nonetheless joined in with their voices.

"Yes, never do that, for goodness sake." The English teacher shuddered. Something sour poured on his calm expression. "Just thinking about it makes my blood boil."

The man shook his head. His annoyance receded and there was his neutral expression again.

"Being an English teacher is a pain, sometimes," declared Mr. Nakamura with a thrill to his voice. "You develop a headache when you start seeing bad grammar everywhere you look and have this horrible urge to correct it. I guess this is why folks say that ignorance is bliss."

He left the chalk aside on top of his desk. His arms crossed, giving him a poised flair that somehow fit him, despite his lanky behavior. The man pursed his lips but he didn't seem angry or anything of the like.

"English is like my wife. Half of the time you don't know what it wants or why does it want it…" observed the man. His analogy earned some snorts from a few students but they didn't interject. "…But when you finally manage to hit the spot, to get that something in the right place at the right time? It feels like touching the sky with your hands."

At this point many students were laughing openly. The teacher didn't laugh along, but he definitely shared their frame of mind if his little smile was anything to go by.

"The problem with English, and honestly, foreign language learning in general," he continued, clearly excited, "is that it can be grossly summarized in 'this language has rules, but it has more exceptions than it has rules'. And this happens mostly because-"

"-Grammar doesn't make any sense," responded the students in unison once again.

"Precisely," agreed the man with a bit more of energy. "For you kids it's even truer, considering English is the hardest to learn for us Japanese. It doesn't help when our English teachers stationed here in Japan are utter garbage as well…"

He cleared his throat and began pulling out stashes of paper from his briefcase, which lay on the teacher's desk.

"The only reason I teach you grammar is because you need a general idea of the structure of the language... but believe me, it's not that important. If you really want to improve, I advise you to speak with foreigners, learn how to communicate, practice your pronunciation, read books, watch movies and series, and yadda yadda yadda. Don't be scared to fail or experiment. And if you want me to make my classes more interactive, ask and you shall receive."

He pointed at his head.

"And always remember guys: winning doesn't mean being the best. To win is to never give up in spite of losing. This applies to life in general."

Mr. Nakamura tapped the stash of papers against his desk, accommodating the sheets in place. He then turned to face his class.

"Well, this is it for today. The bell will ring in a few minutes."

A collective suspire of relief resounded across the classroom as everyone let go of their pens.

"Now, settle down kids. I have your corrected works right here."

And just like that, relief turned into groans of exasperation.

Ayame liked English class. No, he didn't particularly like English. But Mr. Nakamura made his lessons entertaining enough to gets his classmates' attention. No one yapped during a lecture. They were all hunched over their notes, eyes flickering from the board to their chicken's scrabbles to make sure they got everything right. English class was challenging, enough to make anyone fail if they didn't focus.

The stupider of the bunch could barely get a passing grade. But it wasn't Mr. Nakamura's fault, to be completely honest. He was the kind of teacher Kuoh Academy set its sights on. If the rumors were true, he'd got his English major in a prestigious university of Tokyo and then was accepted as a postgraduate in the University of Cambridge, where he earned a PhD in English literature or something like that.

He wondered how people could waste so many years studying without going insane or getting white hair. Mr. Nakamura was on a league of his own.

Ayame pitied the guy. To be stuck with a cluster of dumb teenagers in a classroom that smelled of perfume, sweat and hormones must have been torture. Fortunately, people liked him enough to not interrupt his lectures. Ayame withstood him by virtue of not being an infuriating bother like many others.

Ayame had dozed off during the lesson. It was the perk of English class. While everyone was busy paying attention, he could become a ghost lounging in the back of the classroom and sleep without anyone realizing he existed. He woke up from his trance at the right second before Mr. Nakamura noticed.

The brunet sat with a straight back and a poker face - one he wore until it became his normal face. He waited for the teacher to give him his writing.

It was like a domino. A student received their writing, and there was a groan. The next student flinched in anticipation, before repeating the sound louder, indicating failure or relief tainted with the bittersweet discovery that their parents were not going to be overjoyed with just passing grades. It was slightly amusing. Mr. Nakamura reassured the kids, telling them that they should get worried during finals and not right now.

The teacher approached Ayame. There was a short-lived silence. The teen observed the man who was bringing attention to his desolate and peaceful corner of the classroom.

"Excellent job, Ayame-kun," praised the man with a somewhat upbeat tone. "Your English is impeccable. I spotted one or two grammatical errors, but nothing too grave."

Mr. Nakamura extended his arm, holding out a paper.

"I enjoy your no-nonsense, forthright style, laying out each of your opinions like cold facts. The use of short sentences helps convey your messages in a definite manner, as well. My only complaint is that, although your vocabulary is certainly vast, you seem to focus on too many formalities sometimes. It makes your writings feel… distant, as if you're not into your work. Next time you should think of using metaphors and a bit of humor, for example. Don't feel too pressured, though. Keep up the good work."

Ayame took that as a cue to smile. It felt forced, and his cheeks hurt. He wasn't made for smiling.

"Thanks, sir."

"Oh, and last thing," he added at the last moment. "This is your personal decision, but maybe you should choose a brighter topic for your next writings."

That was just rich. Somehow, he knew someone would call him out.

"As much as I don't mind if you want to write about…" The teacher looked over the paper quickly and frowned. "…The Downsides of an Unfulfilling Life, I do have qualms about your writing reflecting your current state of mind. Is everything okay?"

"Yep," responded Ayame, still smiling. "I felt inspired and wrote it on a bad day. You know how it is. Graduation is just around the corner and there are many things to think about."

As if he cared about graduation. The problem was more complicated.

Either way, Mr. Nakamura nodded understandingly.

Ayame retrieved his useless piece of paper. Equally useless thoughts were written on it, so he didn't give it a second glance.

The reactions varied from student to student. Some did better, and some did worse. For the most part, everyone began to take it easier as time went on.

After a couple of minutes, high praise was awarded once again. Ayame looked at the fortunate soul and grimaced.

"You're full of surprises, Akeno-kun. You just keep getting better and better."

Akeno chuckled, placing a hand on her cheek as if flustered. "Oh, is that so? English really isn't my forte, so I wasn't sure about how this writing was going to turn out."

Mr. Nakamura nodded, smiling.

"Really, Akeno-kun, you always manage to exceed my expectations. The things you write always have a 'fanciful' tone to them. You make a splendid use of metaphors, allegories, and even rhymes. Moreover, sometimes you use Middle English vocabulary, and if I didn't know better, I would assume a bard wrote this. It was a very enjoyable experience to read your work, truly. Got a few laughs out of me."

"Please don't flatter me, teacher~" chimed the raven-haired teenager, taking ahold of her writing with two delicate fingers. "My spiels are nothing but cheap copies of the books I read. Literature has always been something I adored since I was a little girl. Don't be surprised if you spot some Shakespearean influences shamelessly smeared in there~"

"Ah, Shakespeare," murmured the man in a satisfied tone. "Yes, I remember. You love to apply contractions very similar to those found in medieval dialogue. I love it. It helps you set a certain cadence when you read it aloud, and gives your writings an interesting flavor of their own. But please allow me to make some corrections."

"Go ahead, good sir~" prompted Akeno with a feminine wave of the hand. "I'd be thrilled to hear some feedback. In life, sometimes you win, and sometimes you learn~"

An uncharacteristically wide smile was painted over the teacher's features. Akeno was one of his favorite students. The bias was obvious, especially when both of them couldn't keep their literature inside their pants.

"The first problem I found is that, sometimes, your sentences seem to suddenly switch from an English structure to a Japanese one. I find this rather strange, because I notice you do know the order of grammatical components. But at times it's like you start 'thinking in Japanese' and it shows. I would be careful with that."

Akeno nodded, eyes narrowing in a smug look.

"Also, as much as I put your writing on a pedestal, please try to be less abstract if you're able. Your style is much better suited for fiction, and as your teacher, I want to see you communicate in normal English too. I'm not telling you to be less creative, but do tone it down. And finally, be mindful of your punctuation. You use too many commas and too few periods, making it jarring for the reading eyes. Putting a few more stops in your sentences will help you develop a solid rhythm."

She smiled sweetly. "Crystal clear, teach~"

Mr. Nakamura only took a few seconds to smile back and continued handing out corrections.

Ayame's gaze lingered far too long on Akeno's seat. She noticed, glancing at him from the corner of her eye. The young woman craned her neck quickly before he could look away. She smiled in his direction, holding up her writing and making an OK sign.

He scoffed and stared somewhere else.

The bell rang soon after. Everyone stood up from their seats and began marching in groups towards the exit.

Ayame was about to do the same. He was a little too late, unfortunately.

Akeno was quick, standing up just as the bell rang. She decided to approach his desk and he, out of frustration, didn't move right away. She smiled, avoiding desks and students with a womanly stride. The brunet grumbled, jamming his chin into his chest, stuffing both hands into his pockets, but never taking his sight away from the young woman.

"What the hell do you want?"

He said so with a grouchy voice. Akeno's little smile became slightly wider.

"Hallo to you too, classmate dearest~" greeted the female inconvenience. "Your excellent English proficiency has come to my attention. Shall we compare our writings? Maybe we can learn a useful thing or two from the other, satiate our thirst for knowledge in the process~"

Ayame sunk into his seat even further.

"When pigs fly," he replied noncommittally. "Now, begone."

She recoiled, letting out a shocked gasp. It almost, almost seemed like she was hurt by his response. He simply clicked his tongue. Akeno was definitely enjoying every second of this.

"S-So cruel …" she murmured. "What kind of tragedy has befallen you, dearest boy? A merciless plague has rotten away the blooms of mirth and happiness that so often blossom within young souls, the fugacious springtime of life. I look at you and weep. Weep, because the hopeless tragedy that devours all optimism isn't nearly as miserable, as the unhappy ending that could've been avoided and wasn't. It's the bait of a joyful conclusion that truly steals away our will to live."

"Shut up, dammit."

"But fear not!" continued the young woman nonetheless. "Hope always shines bright as the sun burns above the lying veil of rainclouds. Having this knowledge, a weight on the guilty conscience of those who give up too soon, I'll guide you through this storm. Patience, nurture, and desire shall free you from these vile vines that strangle the sprouts of your spirit, just before they're showered in the warm light of a better future…"

Some seconds passed away. Akeno had posed a hand over her head, a sad expression on her face.

Ayame rolled his eyes.

"…Don't you ever close your mouth? A mosquito will fly right inside at any moment."

She quickly hid both hands behind her back. Her tongue stuck out mockingly.

"Convoluted verbose is my way of expressing myself, Ayame-chan~" admitted the raven-haired teen. "And I'm a rather emotional girl. If it bothers you, would you prefer to deal with other teenagers whose feelings tend to explode, seeing as they have no healthy release due to the confusion and changes that youth brings?"

"I wish teenagers in general disappear. That's easier," responded Ayame.

Akeno tilted her head, curious.

"Hmm. But that would mean you would disappear as well, Ayame-chan."

"I ratify my wish," enunciated the brunet.

She sighed, shrugging her shoulders and raising her hands in a defeated gesture.

"At least you remain coherent in your misery. It's one step forward and ten steps back with you, Ayame-chan~"

"Spectacular. The more steps you're away from me, the better."

Ayame's chair squeaked as he pushed it back, intending on standing up. Akeno stopped whatever plan he had in mind by placing a hand on his shoulder. He scowled and she smiled.

"No, no, Ayame-chan," she said while wiggling a finger left and right. "When I mention steps forward and steps back, I don't mean it literally. You see, it's a metaphor to indicate the few good points of your personality are ultimately thwarted by the fact you're, pardon my French, a dic-"

"I know what it means, moron," quickly interrupted the brunet. "I'll spell it out for you, since it seems you don't understand sarcasm. I'm saying I want to go somewhere, anywhere, without you breathing down on my neck."

"That needs no explanation~!" she chirped. "Why, Ayame-chan, it is delightfully obvious I'm a thorn in your side. Yet I still have the conviction that one day, I'll be able to grant you something to set this dysfunctional friendship in motion~"

Akeno skidded around Ayame with a twirl. Ignoring all possible rules regarding personal space, she set both hands on his shoulders. The girl leaned on him while being careful not to put too much of her weight on the push.

Ayame felt hot air close to his ear. Even worse was the soft sensation on the back of his head, which he knew was Akeno's biggish chest getting too close for comfort. He could almost feel the thump of her heartbeat.

If he had been horny like Issei and ten times as expressive, he might've screeched.

He was neither. So whatever obscure, evil emotions he was having were only expressed through a twitching eye and a pale lip bruised by the bite of his canine.

"Maybe I could start making lunch for you, bring it to school? In these boy-meets-girl situations, the damsel in love usually gets points by feeding her other half some treats~"

She got slightly closer, spoke in a lower voice.

"Or perhaps you desire something superficial? I could buy you things. Money has never been an issue to yours truly. I could be like… you know, a sugar momma. Many guys seem to like the idea~"

Her fingers started massaging his shoulder, dancing upon his black blazer and the muscles underneath. As close as she dared to be, he could listen to the rhythm of her gentle breathing.

"Probably… possibly… your heart is just a timid little thing, and your desire is on something simpler that yet feels so distant to achieve…" Her words became so faint he could barely hear them. "But I venture the only thing you want… could be… me…?"

"Never."

Ayame shook her hands off of him.

"Keep your perverse advances to yourself, Himejima. Or tell all of those things to your boyfriend. Tough I doubt you'll ever get one."

She smiled again, raising her hands in a disarming way.

"Wooow. I never thought I'd see the day where someone, a boy nonetheless, tells me I'll never get a boyfriend~" said Akeno with good humor. "The world will never cease to amaze me with the things it has to offer. And you're by far a most interesting instance~"

He reclined on his seat. After some seconds of silence, he twirled his head on her direction.

There was a choked message in the air. The boy had lots of unpleasant commentaries to make, and he couldn't decide which one was more fitting for the conversation at hand. Before he was able to express himself, another voice overlapped over his malicious thoughts.

"Good morning, Akeno." The young woman's attention was drawn to the new partaker in the conversation. Ayame followed suit and looked.

It was another student, a girl.

A deep crimson color was the most eye-catching detail Ayame assimilated before anything else made sense in his mind. Her long hair was red like a shade of fresh blood, unnatural in every way imaginable. One would liken it to a lion's mane from its wild and disordered look.

The red hair cascaded down her perfectly rounded shoulders. Some unruly bangs fell on the sides of her face. Despite being clearly unfixed, the locks and tresses were put in an easily recognizable form, as if the mess was in fact an intricate hairstyle that could only belong to this particular person, an extension of her beauty. Her skin, on the other hand, was a stark white coat, and her eyes, two emerald orbs with just the slightest cyan in them.

She was a mix of calm and passionate colors. They all worked in unison to make her appearance as remarkable as possible. The details of her face were sharp, but strangely gentle.

Ayame knew who this person was. They didn't talk much, though.

The brunet vaguely appreciated this young woman's figure. She was much like Akeno in the sense of having a seductive figure. She was slightly shorter, but her breasts might have been as big or bigger. The same with her behind, jutting out a bit too much from a skirt that was too short-

-Ayame shut his eyes and shook his head. Issei was infecting him, making him think of rubbish.

"Good morning, president~" answered Akeno with her trademark smirk. "What may bring your Highness to my humble classroom today?

"Surely not just to enjoy your over-the-top responses, Akeno," said the other girl with a giggle. "We need to make a thorough check of the club's latest inventories. The student council wants to draw a budget for next month, and they need to know the scope and value of our acquisitions. I need to know what you've been up to as well."

Akeno clicked her tongue and smiled wryly. "Of course, of course. Bureaucracy, paperwork, all in the name of transparency and fair business. It does irk me we have to disclose the uses and misuses of our resources as if we owe them the data."

"If it makes you feel better, I don't feel less naked than you do by sharing information," responded the redhead. "But let's throw them a bone. It's all surface dealings anyway. You know how people say: those who have nothing to hide have nothing to fear."

"Do people really say that, though? Doesn't ring bells in my head~"

"Maybe. And if they don't, then I just came up with a pretty fancy phrase, don't you think?"

People did say that. Ayame wasn't about to tell them anytime soon, though. He just wanted to be done with all of this.

Unfortunately, the redhead noticed his presence before he could disappear.

"Ah, my apologies. I didn't see you there," she said with a smile. "Mind your manners, Akeno, and please introduce us. Who is this young man?"

Akeno joined her hands at stomach-level.

"Do forgive my imprudence, President. As for him, we're actually very good friends! His name is-"

"None of your business," interrupted the boy who had been silent until now. "Don't throw my name around as if you're advertising my political campaign. We're not friends."

Both girls remained static at the dry response.

Akeno let out a very fake cough in her hand. "Please don't think too much of his rude attitude, president. He expresses shyness in a unique manner. Isn't he just an adorable specimen~?"

Ayame felt twitches circling his eyes. "Do not speak of me as a guinea pig. It's bad enough you admit you're harassing me."

"Harassing…?" murmured the redhead. She then smiled nonchalantly. "Well, Akeno does have a tendency to speak the sanity out of any intelligent life form for fun. She's fine as long as she gets a reaction out of you. Anything goes. But she doesn't really mean harm."

Somehow, the 'no harm intended' excuse was getting old.

"Ahhh, President. Don't go spelling out the inner workings of my Machiavellian mind~" moaned the mischievous teenager. "More importantly, shouldn't we get the enigma out of the way, get to know each other~?"

The redhead immediately straightened her posture. One hand went behind her back. She extended the other towards him.

"Of course. It's natural to introduce myself before learning someone else's name," she stated. "Rias Gremory. It's a pleasure to meet you."

The words slithered from her lips, a warm lilt accompanying each letter of her name and surname. It was a welcoming tune. Anyone would describe it as nothing short of melodious.

But there was something. He couldn't quite place it, but for everything good there was in Rias' presentation, there was one bad thing.

She sounded too 'perfect'. As if her every gesture and word were carefully tailored to be pleasing in nature. Though anyone else would've found it calming, the only thing it elicited out of Ayame was distrust. It reminded him of someone trying too hard to sell a lie as truth. Rias probably didn't mean ill. But her excellence seemed too artificial. Maybe it was practiced. Or maybe it came out of her naturally. Whatever the case, it made him feel icky.

Perhaps a simpler explanation was that he just wanted to get away. And Rias was just stalling him with her pompousness.

"…I'll keep my name to myself. I really don't feel like chit-chatting right now, least of all with one of Himejima's friends."

"Ouch. That's harsh~" chimed Akeno.

Rias sighed, shrugging her shoulders.

"Hah… Well, suit yourself. If you ever require someone with red hair at Kuoh Academy, now you know her name."

Ayame shook his head. "Dully noted."

The brunet simply bolted out of the room, hands in his pockets and head hung low.

---

- ~DxD~ -

A day in Ayame's life usually played out the same way as the previous one.

He would wake up inside his disgusting room. He would eat breakfast and be mildly grateful he still had a loving family to support him. He would go to school. He would speak more or less, depending on how annoying people were and how willing he was to pretend he cared. He would sleep through his classes. He would survive Akeno. And then, he would return home and fester for the remainder of the day.

That was about it.

Sometimes there was some variety in the details, like the food he ate or the paths he walked to get to his destination.

They couldn't be called a divergence. Slight variations in a monotonous lifestyle were still atrociously monotonous. His routine stayed the same and whatever change he forced in it was too unsubstantial to last.

He was the same, everyone stayed the same, everything remained the same and he couldn't take it anymore. His rejection stemmed from nothingness, from a time he couldn't care to remember. Somehow, he had gotten accustomed to it, became dependent of it.

Moreover, Ayame didn't even try. Moving heaven and earth, making an actual difference… was it really worth it? He was far too comfortable living in a dull repetition, as much as he also despised it.

Why even bother? Wasn't life like mountain climbing, except every peak was followed by an ever bigger mountain?

It sounded so tiring. It sounded like the exact monotony he disliked. Wouldn't a new hobby or a greater challenge just become another part of the routine? He could barely get up from bed. He could barely get a spoonful of food from a plate towards his mouth. He could barely costume himself as a student, and if he wasn't wearing his school uniform, he was just walking around in an old shirt and his boxers. Just thinking about making the 'big leap' made him feel weary.

So, here he was, stuck in a vicious cycle.

He could only imagine what sort of wonderful person he'd have become if he didn't waste so much time wallowing. At least that was a comforting fantasy; someone named 'Ayame' might have discovered the cure for cancer in a different universe, and another one probably solved poverty. Somewhere, at some point, his name didn't just become a synonym of gloom and doom.

Of course, it was just wishful thinking. Here in the real world he was a sad teenager with no good prospects. So he played his role as best as he could. His greatest contribution to humanity was fitting in as the melancholic trash he was, just so others could shine by comparison.

From afar, his loathing probably seemed like an infantile excuse to explain his lack of motivation. But, honestly, was there a point in making a fresh start? So many years wasted, and so little done to make them count. He was past the point where an achievement, no matter how small, would bring momentum to his life, take him somewhere.

Stability was far out of reach, belonging to those who cared and dared. He just accepted the failure that was his life with emotionlessness. There was no fury or sadness. There was nothing but a lack of sentiment. The characteristic frustration of stubborn and successful people was… not there. Faking happiness was pointless. There wasn't anything to hide behind pretty words and forced faces. There was nothing.

He felt… withered. His thoughts and very being were washed a dull grey.

So pathetic. So desperate. So eager to disappear.

Even disappearing sounded too tiring. Otherwise, he'd have thrown himself from the highest building in Kuoh. At least his death would bring a shift, no matter how insignificant it would be.

Alas, it augured bad things. There were too many flaws that stopped his plan to die on impact. It was funny, how much he had to gnaw at his mind to discover he did care a little.

His parents would need to waste money for his coffin, first of all. They were already tight on money. Ayame didn't wish to strangle their finances from the afterlife. His face would then appear on the news and everyone would remember him as another poor bastard that took the easy way out. Then, they would forget. Cowards were always forgotten.

The harsher problems would come later. No one cared about the dead, so everyone who wasn't him would be pitied and comforted. Issei would cry and lose his shine, only to bounce back, because Issei was the very definition of a rubber ball. He could get punched, made fun of, be humiliated, and he still wouldn't stay down forever. He couldn't. He would stand again.

Still, the time he would spend mopping over a useless, dead elder brother would sink his bad grades even further. It would darken his future unnecessarily. His mother would never smile again, and all her attempts to make his life a bit better would become wasted effort. His father would sleep much more, surely to forget he had a dead son in his conscience and not just from work exhaustion. They would worry, fret over a stupid death and a stupider existence they thought they knew.

And that's why he was alive. Unhappy, uncaring, undeserving, but Ayame was alive nonetheless.

He wondered for how much longer.

He envied Issei in that regard. His little brother was so short-sighted he didn't need to worry about a better future or adding some meaning to his existence. He was just happy being a perverted idiot.

The children playing around Ayame were as short-sighted. It reinforced the idea that Issei was a little kid at the end of the day.

Maybe he would've happier as a little kid.

The brunet sighed. A walk in the park had seemed like a good idea, and then he wound up in the children's playground. He didn't know what he expected out of this.

Watching the kids play only soured his mood. They reminded him of his times as a brat, when he was just enjoying the present and not thinking about things he didn't know how to fix. Unfortunately, those times had passed and he was a few months away from becoming a legal waste of oxygen to society.

Unwilling to feed his dark thoughts, he stood up from his swinging chair. After dodging a few parents trying to keep an eye on their children, Ayame walked away from the spot.

The sun was setting. His mother was going to worry if he kept silent, so his next objective was returning home.

His feet took him over the white walkway that snaked across the grass and between the trees. Spring was in full bloom at this point of the year, so the climate was enjoyable, sunny, and fresh. It was perfect for people to go out and admire nature. The Chiharu Park Ayame was at was famous for couples, especially during spring. It wasn't strange to see teenagers confessing their love under the Sakura trees, as if doing so made the confession itself magical or significant in any way.

Regardless, today there was next to no people at the park.

The detail wasn't particularly worrying. Ayame didn't care. However, with no hustle and bustle stealing away his attention, he noticed something. As if he was being watched with intent.

The brunet turned around.

He saw a veil of hair flow behind a tree.

Ayame blinked. Then, he shook his head and kept walking.

Any further attempt to concoct depressive thoughts ended in failure. It was hard to brood with that feeling of being observed tingling in the back of his mind. After covering a few meters more, he sighed, and turned around.

Again that hair flowing behind another tree. He stared harder and, surely enough, he saw sets of fingers gripping the wood from the corner.

The teenager shook his head again. It was preposterous to think he was actually being followed. He tried to ignore it and kept moving onwards.

…Or that was his plan. But the uncomfortable realization of having a pair of eyes on his back was nerve-wracking to say the least.

Ayame took ahold of a rock close by. He bounced it on his hand a bit.

Then, the brunet did a sharp turn.

In that second, he saw a figure hiding behind a tree once again. He didn't waste any second and launched the rock against it.

The stone hit the tree, making a loud sound.

"Kyah!"

And the stalker's cover was blown, of course. The mysterious person let out a girly yelp and fell on her butt. Without a hiding spot, Ayame could see her in all her glory.

She was a teenage girl. From her looks, she was either younger or about his same age. Her hair was black. She was wearing a brown skirt and a red blazer with a 'P' on the left breast. Ayame had never seen such uniform, and if this girl was going to a school in Kuoh, he wasn't sure which one.

He approached the girl with heavy steps. Once he was within reach, the brunet eyed her unsurely. It took some seconds for him to gather his wits and speak.

"…This is dumb," he said with a sigh. "Can I ask why you're following me? This thing about people chasing me is rather annoying, so I'd appreciate it if you didn't. I can't possibly be that interesting."

After the initial shock, the girl seemed genuinely confused at Ayame's accusation. She stuttered some things as she struggled to get up.

"Oh, eh…I mean…I-I'm sorry…" she apologized. "This… I-I mean… T-This is not what it looks like."

Ayame raised an eyebrow.

"I don't even know what this is, at this point. Explain yourself. And make it short. Your answer will decide whether I go away or not."

She slapped the dirt away from her skirt and fiddled with her fingers.

"Eh… Well, my name is Yuuma Amano…" she said with the same nervous tone, albeit she kept some composure now. "I… I know it looks super weird for me to be watching you from afar, b-but… I do have a reason…"

"Which is?"

She looked down, unable to clear things up right away. After a bit of mental preparation, she actually spoke up.

"I'm… I'm in love with your brother!"

…

…

…

"…Well, I'll be damned," he admitted, stuffing both hands in the pockets. "You have terrible tastes in romance. But I'll humor you. Why Issei, out of everyone else? And why are you telling me this? I'm not Issei."

Yuuma started scratching her head with a quivering smile.

"…I mean, I've been watching Hyoudou-kun for quite some time," said Yuuma. "I guess it's wrong to call it love just yet, but I like him. He's a bouncy person, and whenever I see him, he's always smiling and jumping around. And…well…I wanted to, y'know… get to know him better? Hyoudou-kun seems like an okay guy."

"…Stalker."

"N-No, I'm not!" she stammered, balling her hands into fists and pouting. "And I already said I'm sorry!"

"But you haven't answered my other question. Why are you following me?"

Yuuma huffed, fidgeting once again.

"I… I don't know how to approach him. I realized you were his brother, so I thought I could get some insight, an advice to make things to smoother. But…I didn't know how to approach you either. I wasn't expecting you'd throw a rock at me, though!"

"Serves you right for not making up your mind," responded Ayame. "You can consider that my advice. Step up and show some courage. If you've been stalking Issei-"

"Observing."

"-You'd know he doesn't have a girlfriend. And he's so desperate for one it's just sad. Telling him your feelings might be what you need to… what do people say? Make the ship sail? Something like that."

"I don't think you should speak about your brother like that…" mentioned the girl. "And you make it sound so easy… but it makes me feel anxious! It doesn't matter how many times I play it inside my head, I'm always scared I'll mess everything up. My legs just freeze up and I can't think straight. I don't even go to Kuoh Academy, so it's harder to get in touch…"

Ayame rolled his eyes. He pulled a hand out of his pocket and made a gesture.

"You won't know unless you try," continued the brunet. "And as much as it pains me, I know Issei better than you do. Be straightforward and there's a two hundred percent chance he'll go out on a date with you. You surely won't get anything done if you think about the ifs and buts."

She didn't seem totally convinced.

"But… what do I do if he doesn't accept me?"

Yuuma was giving him the look of a kicked puppy. Ayame resisted the urge to scowl and stared somewhere else.

"Be happy you tried. There's a lot of fish in the ocean," was his answer. "At least I helped you, too. That must mean something."

She seemed to think it over for a bit. Then, a smile was on her face.

"I guess you're right. Even if you attacked me at first, you turned out to be pretty cool. I met a good person today!"

"Ha-ha-ha," was Ayame's dry reaction. "This good person must be invisible. I don't see him anywhere."

Yuuma stuck out her tongue in a silly manner. "Ahhh, don't be shy. If things don't go my way, we can still be friends!"

"…"

Ayame was silent for a bit. He smiled grimly, setting his blue eyes on Yuuma.

'Friends'. When was the last time someone wanted to be his genuine friend? Worst of all, hearing Yuuma say it made his skin crawl. There was something, something weird in her voice and behavior. Whatever it was, his mind rejected it. It wasn't a phenomenon he could explain, but Ayame knew it wasn't something he liked. And he wasn't masochistic enough to deal with things he disliked just because.

"I doubt it. You're lucky we became acquaintances."

"Well! If we became acquaintances, then it means I'm one of a kind!" she said proudly. "We can get to know each other better once I become your sister-in-law~"

Ayame turned around. He adjusted the scarf around his neck, prying it away just enough to give him more room to breathe.

"That's bold of you. But I did tell you to grow a spine." The young man sighed and began walking. "Good luck in your endeavor."

And he got away as fast as possible.

Somehow, he still couldn't suppress the chills running down his spine.

Yuuma was waving at him from behind. She stared at the boy's back as his figure got lost between the trees and the darkness of the approaching evening. Chilly winds blew every now and then, moving the leaves and grass.

Ayame missed the friendly gesture. But she didn't seem to mind.

The girl's lips formed a smile moments later. It wasn't the smile an innocent high-school girl would wear after knowing she could confess to the boy she liked.

It was the toothy, macabre smile of a predator seizing up her prey.

Needless to say, Ayame failed to notice that too.

---

- ~DxD~ -

Ayame stared blankly at the ceiling.

His existence sucked. Even sleeping had become too repetitive for his tastes. Now he found himself waking up at unholy hours of the day. His body had enough of being inactive, it seemed. A shame he wasn't fed up with his bed yet. It was quite comfy.

He almost looked like a vampire, lying down like that. There was his pale skin, his long brown hair sprawled on the pillow, and his hands linked over his chest. He might have pulled the covers over his head if he had been aware of his bizarre appearance.

His blue eyes looked at the specks of dust flying in the air. He tried to count them to no avail. They moved with each breath that escaped his lungs.

Still, the activity gave him enough focus. It was easier to concentrate and remain in the world of the living, instead of spacing out and losing awareness of time. Ayame needed to be mindful of the time. His alarm was switched off, and school, as irritating as it was, kept his sanity in check.

The brunet was many things, but being unpunctual would never be one of them.

…Either way, he didn't even need to be punctual.

"Wake up, Ayame!"

Why bother if Issei was going to wake him up all the same? Worst of all, Ayame was pretty sure it was early. Pretty early.

"Wake up, ya lazy ass!" repeated the younger brother. "This is a new day and yer the same sloth! C'mon, we're gonna be late for school."

The brunet craned his head. The digital clock on the nightstand flashed a set of numbers. His eyes narrowed.

"It's six-thirty in the morning, you idiot. What kind of bastard with nothing better to do goes to school at this hour?"

The other boy flashed him a dumb smile. "The early bird gets the pretty girl, hehehehe!"

Punching Issei and making him swallow his own teeth was a tempting idea, but alas, Ayame didn't want to dirty his fist. Stupidity was a dangerous pathogen. Its symptoms would definitely inebriate his mind and skyrocket his body's hormone production. Turning into a mindless pervert was a distasteful idea.

After arguing a little over something stupid, Ayame woke up earlier than normal. He waited till going to school was inevitable. Issei being a little more hyper than normal didn't help the older teenager deal with the fact he was separated from his comfy bed.

On their way to school, the younger teen giggled for no apparent reason every now and then. Ayame felt compelled to ask.

"What's making you grin like that?"

Issei put his hands behind his head, humming upbeat tunes. "I may just tell you, but I want it to be a surprise."

And just like that, the conversation hit another standstill. Horny boy couldn't hold his excitement inside. Faced with Ayame's disinterested silence, he revealed the cause of his good mood.

"Y'know what, I'll tell you anyway!" he suddenly blurted out. "It's just… oh man, it's the greatest thing in the universe! I don't even know how to explain!"

"I could make some inferences, but knowing you, I doubt it'll surprise me." The older brother quickly struck his counterpart's statement with petty remarks. "Is it a new beautiful girl with big breasts? Or butt? Maybe both?"

"Yes! But, eh, not exactly! But definitely, yes! More or less… haha…"

"I should've known. Just tell me, dimwit."

Issei didn't seem pressured in the slightest at his brother impatience. He cleared his throat before revealing the oh-so wonderful news.

"It goes like this! The other day, when I got out of school, this very cute girl appeared out of nowhere. Never saw her before! She was from another school, too. At first I kinda tripped over my words, cuz I didn't know if she was only asking for directions or something else. So, the first contact was awkward…"

The teen quickly diverted his sight somewhere else, trying to hide his overjoyed expression.

"…But, all of a sudden, she literally confessed to me! Like, dude, a real, gorgeous girl actually confessed her feelings to me!" his incredible revelation was followed by goodhearted laughs and giggles. "I was so happy I couldn't even notice how good her figure was at first-"

Ayame tuned his brother's voice off.

The girl had actually done it. Yuuma had become an afterthought in the back of his mind. From time to time he wondered if her plan was successful, though he had no way of knowing. Asking Issei would've probably ruined her scheme, so Ayame kept silent.

The whole ordeal was suspicious. He didn't take Yuuma very seriously at first. And now that she actually did the deed, everything seemed more… dubious. As if it came straight out of a tacky teenage drama show.

He might have not cared in any other situation. But he was uneasy.

Sure, he could blame his own mediocre handling of human emotions. This is how romantic relationships probably developed and Ayame was just too miserable to notice. Or maybe he was jealous and a bit horrified Issei was finally getting a girlfriend. Whatever the case, he didn't like this.

No, no… it wasn't the situation per se that distressed him. It was Yuuma.

She reminded him of Rias and Akeno. A few days ago he couldn't name the source of his worry, standing on the tip of his tongue. But Yuuma agitated him the exact same way as those two women at school. She managed to tone it down by acting like an innocent schoolgirl, but was she really? Or had he gone crazy, seeing danger where there wasn't any?

Ayame couldn't put this disquiet in words. He couldn't reasonably explain from where it came from, or why did it come from those girls in particular. Even now, without Yuuma in front of him, the mere thought of her was enough to spark suspense.

It wasn't different from the fear people often had when walking by a mannequin. It looked much like a human, but an instinct deep in the mind said it wasn't. Only now in hindsight he remembered the details, the small stuff that gave the whole farce away. The trembling voice, the all-too natural fidgeting and worrying, her eyes avoiding his, everything.

That was the reason. She played him like a fiddle, just like Akeno.

A plastic girl.

What hid under the fuzzy surface?

…

…

…

Probably nothing.

He still had trouble seeing past his own delusions. How could he be so sure this was an intricate complot?

Ayame needed to exercise or something. Thinking so much was taking him to nasty places.

"Hey, are you listening?"

His sibling's boisterous voice snapped him out of his gloomy trance. He answered immediately.

"I'd be lying if I said I was," responded Ayame.

Issei caressed his chin, as if he had an invisible beard. "Hehehe, you must be seeing red from jealousy right now! How does it feel for your little bro to have a girlfriend before you do, eh? Want some love tips?"

Ayame snorted in return. "Your 'love tips' will probably keep any female away from me if I follow them to the letter."

"Ya use words that do not hurt anymore, dear brother!" he quickly rebutted. "I have shown that Issei Hyoudou is as capable of getting' a girlfriend as anyone else!"

Issei ruffled his own hair, as if praising himself.

"The lucky girl's name is Yuuma Amano. Trust me, she's as cute as her name suggests!" Recognition dawned on his face moments later, and he spoke. "Oh, right! I'm going on a date with her next Sunday. Wish me luck on my first romantic trip!"

The older sibling let out a non-committed hum.

"Sure. Try to not scare her off with your perverted ways."

He received a soft punch on his shoulder for his sharp words.

"You're one to talk, Ayame. You scare everyone away."

---

- ~DxD~ -

Sunday had finally come.

Silence reigned in the Hyoudou household. It was uncommon, considering Issei was always there to bring the hustle and bustle. Ayame's parents had already gone to Mass at this point in the afternoon. So the house was effectively empty, save for the oldest child himself locked up in his room.

Issei left for his date early in the morning. There was no sign of him. No sign of his energy or foolishness. He had better things to do than annoying his elder brother.

Ayame opted to waste away on his bed, looking at the ceiling with the same vague expression he always wore.

So deplorable. Alone as he was, with his wretched thoughts as sole companion, his self-loathing reached new heights. Everyone was off doing their own thing, surely making their lives worth something. Meanwhile, he was just here, doing nothing, being nothing. In any second he would start growing roots and leech off the world in a more direct manner.

At times like these, he understood how much this routine had fried his brain.

It was overwhelming. The white in his mind. The pit in his stomach. The void inside his chest. Something was eating away at him, and he didn't know what. But something important was lost. Something essential.

So shameful. So pitiful. So futile.

With a spark of mockery lighting his mind, he remembered it was Sunday. He had an entire day for himself, alone, his home bereft of his brother and parents.

Well, going out wasn't very different from slowly rotting on the comfortable surface of his bed. He could be aimlessly walking for hours instead of lying down unmoving. At least it was something.

And that thought glued itself to the forefront of his mind, always coming and whispering about the outside world every time he tried to close his eyes and forget he existed. It took time and effort to conjure strength, just enough to get up.

He put on a short-sleeved white shirt, black pants and boots. Ayame tied his scarf around the neck, a dissonant element to his bland outfit. He was ready.

The trip from his room, down the stairs and to the front door was almost immediate. Ayame opened it and stepped into the street.

Dim light shone on his pale skin. The dying sunset clashed against the air of life that spring brought. The deep blue of the sky, not much different from the color his eyes, extended as far as he could see.

Without much else to do, he walked.

.

.

.

He stomped on the pavement with each heavier step. His legs were on the brink of giving out and breathing was annoying. Moreover, the expressionless face he always showed was starting to hurt, tiring the muscles under the skin of his visage.

One hour outside felt like an entire day. Two hours were hard for his boot-encased toes. By the fourth hour, a sharp pain was forming behind his eyes. Thirty minutes later, his spine was failing to keep his back straight.

He just kept going. Everything was meaningless anyway. The pain he was going through was also meaningless, but it was something. It existed, just like he did.

At some point, Ayame considered the idea of going home appetizing. Then, he suddenly started thinking about cars, and how good it would be for one to run over him and put him to sleep forever.

He didn't have the guts to throw himself in the middle of the street while the automobiles were moving. The thought still had a prominent influence in his mind.

Why did he even leave? Ayame regretted his decision to leave his favorite place to rot.

Time ticked by. It was a coarse reminder he couldn't make his little commitment to leave the bed count. The day was wasted, a declaration of how useless his decision was.

Useless, pointless, just like every choice he made.

Ayame insisted on staying outside, despite his frustration. Going back home was bad. He was in a bad mood and he wasn't sure he wouldn't do something drastic while alone. Here in public he had an excuse, something to prolong the inevitable mistake he would commit sooner or later. But, dammit, he really wanted the earth to swallow him whole.

He took ahold of his scarf and hid his face in it. His feet took him across streets, through cars, past dozens of people whose faces remained a few seconds in his mind before vanishing.

Ayame strolled for a long time. His hurting feet felt the distance they marched, even if he didn't consciously register it.

At some point he finally regained his bearings. He was in a park, the Chiharu Park in particular. What an ironic place to be in while alone.

The park itself was empty, however. Its lonesome residents were the trees and their leaves, and no one else. Air breezed and the branches swayed softly, brushing against each other. They conversed in a language he didn't understand. They were probably mocking him. Billions of human beings on earth, and he still managed to be alone. Pitiful.

He sighed. There was no reason to extend this any longer.

"…Mother and Father must've come back by now. At least it won't be so boring at home."

Instead of going back the way he came from, Ayame decided to go forward.

The sun set. A gloomy blue painted the darkening skies. Shadows cast by the trees seemed to crawl over the brunet and his chosen path.

In the back of his mind, he probably knew this wasn't normal. The park was too quiet. Dead silent, even. Kuoh was many things, but at night, it definitely wasn't this still without a reason.

A spike of panic shot through his body. His heart skipped a beat.

Go back.

It's dangerous.

Go back.

Run away.

Go back.

You're not supposed to be here.

Something was making him anxious. The shadows were dark, too dark. He couldn't see past his own body right now. The wind had finally died down and there was immobility, a macabre sort of tranquility before something bad happened.

This wasn't the calm before the storm. No, he was inside the eye of the hurricane already.

Despite the frightened reactions of his brain, he persisted.

Deep inside, he knew it was the wrong choice. But he didn't care anymore.

The murk parted away from his trail, as if respecting his recklessness. The stone route in front was cleared out and he followed it mechanically, almost as a matter of course.

Ayame stepped out into a manmade clearing. It was vaguely circular in shape, with cobblestone covering the ground.

Sound finally returned. The wind was weak, whispering a warning song.

Stronger than the wind was the sound of water falling. Many meters away, there was a fountain filled to the brim. There was just enough light to distinguish something there. In the center of said fountain was the towering sculpture of a beautiful armored angel, with wings gloriously spread and ornate spear in hand raised to the skies in sign of triumph.

The angel itself, an effeminate figure that couldn't be distinguished from man or woman, had its head inclined in his direction. The silhouette of the eyes carved into its head was obscured. From that distance, it almost seemed like the angel's face was set in an ominous expression.

Ayame glowered at nothing. As he trained his gaze and got accustomed to the darkness of dusk, he was able to distinguish something else.

Separated by the fountain were two figures, one on each side. They could barely be distinguished due to lack of luminosity. But the brunet managed to pick up key details the longer he stared.

One of the figures was bulkier, with masculine contours. A few more seconds of staring informed Ayame this figure had brown hair arranged in a wild style. He looked down and saw pricey clothes, recently bought to impress. Recognizing this person took some moments, but the brunet realized sooner than later. His brother had shown him the new jacket and jeans he got, asked him if they looked 'cool' on him.

"Issei…"

The words were drawn out. Somehow, Ayame didn't notice he was holding his breath till now. Something was taking the air out of his lungs. It was invisible, lethal, inevitable. This last part was truer considering he discarded his only way out some moments ago.

Cold sweat ran down his cheek. His neck craned slightly, towards the other figure. Strangely enough, the shadow projected by the other person appeared wider, more tenebrous.

The lights and shadows looked like they were playing cheap tricks on him. He almost felt like laughing as the other person flashed across his vision.

Edges of a black dress fluttered in the wind. Upon said black dress was a white jacket hugging a smaller, feminine body. Ayame made no mental notes about the fashion style of the girl and looked up. Dark hair cascaded down, flowing like a bride's veil despite the lack of strong winds. From this angle, he barely saw the lilac gleam of her eyes. They were shining bright.

"…And…Yuuma."

Ayame was unsure for a second. Then, he found it funny. Yuuma had been avoiding direct eye contact the first time they met, so he never got a good look of her pupils.

Smart move from her part. If he had seen, the brunet would've probably noticed what was wrong much earlier.

No matter the case, Yuuma and Issei had gone on a date. And against all odds, Ayame managed to stumble upon them.

But, of course, something was not right. Ayame wasn't an expert on romance and neither was Issei, but both surely had this idea that dates were supposed to be fun, lively, playful.

This situation in which time was frozen and so was everyone else, like expecting for a bomb to suddenly go off, was not a date. At least it didn't fit their notion of a date in the slightest.

Issei was stiff. His older brother could see the shock on his face, the way his expression twisted, horrified and confused, at the person who looked the least harmful of the three.

Yuuma had a little smile on the corner of her face. Strangely enough, her features were the only thing that managed to stand out with the fading twilight.

After some seconds that felt eternal, she broke the silence.

"Do I have to repeat it, Issei?"

Her voice shook his core. This wasn't the way a chirpy high-school girl spoke, even if she was an aspiring actress. She sounded years older, sufficient to pass as a young adult. Wickedness dripped from her calm words. No person trying to imitate a wacky villain from a TV show could do justice to the sheer malice in Yuuma's speech. It was condescending and gentle all in one. Worst of all, she managed to say so much with so little.

Ayame knew. Issei had trouble understanding. Yuuma rejoiced in the ignorance of her prey, enjoyed every second she delayed what was to come.

"R-Repeat it?" murmured Issei, who then laughed nervously. "I mean, yeah! I… I kinda didn't h-hear that, Yuuma-chan."

She giggled.

"Yes, yes. I never expected your pathetic little brain to comprehend everything at first," explained the young woman. "Love is so sensational a feeling… like a drug. Once you have a taste of it, the euphoria simply makes you unable to understand the simplest of things. Seeing as you reacted the way I expected you to, I can say with confidence that…"

A pause and another giggle.

"…You're so, so boring, Issei."

Then, a step forward.

"But I guess there is certain charm to things that go as you planned. It is quite exciting when you know everything is on the palm of your hands, don't you think?"

Yuuma shrugged, and then cracked her neck to one side.

"Enough of my inner appreciations, now. I had my fun pretending I liked you, and you had the date of your dreams. I admit you sure know how to please a girl, even if you couldn't help staring at my chest every five seconds. For indulging in my petty desires, I thank you."

The girl took three accentuated steps forward.

"This is where we part ways, Issei. Forever." She put her hand up to her lips, and blew a kiss in Issei's direction. "Allow me to burn the image of me in your very soul, and hear my last request-"

The impossible occurred, then.

The wind blew strongly. No, no, there was no wind. Two giant shadows sprouted from the girl's back, mimicking the noise of a powerful gale as they unfolded. They relaxed with biological grace, naturally, no different from a person unclenching their first or a bird gently flapping its wings.

Very little light remained, but it proved enough to illuminate the phenomenon in its entire splendor. Ayame sucked in a sharp breath, amazed.

Feathered shadows. Wings, pitch-black in color.

Yuuma raised her right arm. She opened the palm of her hand slowly.

What appeared to be weirdly colored fireflies suddenly flew around and circled the girl's hand, gathering in a vibrant halo that made the teen feel like running a thousand years to get away from it.

He didn't.

He was rewarded with the view of an orb of pure violet light forming, floating beneath her hand. Said orb shifted, changed, and with a distorted noise, took another form. Slim and pointy it had become. The brunet could only think of one of describing it. It was a spear. A terribly dangerous one.

The spear made of light crackled, arcs of fiery electricity dancing around its surface.

The femme fatale opened her mouth. With an impossibly graceful demeanor, she spelled her date's doom.

"-Will you die for me?"

Ayame tensed.

"Iss-"

He didn't have any time to begin his sentence.

Liquid splatters and a drowned scream echoed throughout the park.

Ayame forgot to breathe.

Issei was on the ground. He couldn't escape. The spear had carved his stomach all the way to the other side. The attack itself was strong enough to lift Issei up in the air, and then have him skidding on his knees once he fell down. Smoke and bubbling blood emerged from the fatal injury. Sizzling noises resonated from the teenager's body.

Issei gasped like fish out of the water. He flailed for a moment, confused, panicked. With the last dregs of his strength, willing his dying body to move, he forced his arms up. Then, he tried to grasp the light boiling his insides.

The spear disappeared in thin air at the touch of his hands. The suddenness of it was comical, as if everything was a convenient sketch.

Issei appeared to lose his adrenaline after a final act of resistance. The rest of his guts that weren't entirely damaged fell on the cold ground. Issei faltered and followed suit. He fell on a pool of sticky red ooze with a loud splash.

He didn't move anymore.

A high-pitched cackle resounded at the morbid display.

"Hahaha! I honestly thought you would put on more of a fight. It seems I got my hopes too high up," she declared. "What's a great deal of potential you can't exploit? I still fail to understand the whims of my heavenly master. There's no use giving power to these worms when they aren't even aware of it!"

She admired her work.

Then, her head did a turn. It was smooth. Almost practiced. Almost as if she knew of his presence. And now, the spectator was one no more.

Yuuma narrowed her eyes into a dopey expression. Her smile widened in a lazy manner.

"Ahhh, color me impressed." She wasn't surprised at all. "If it isn't Mister Lonesome gracing me with his lowly existence. My deepest apologies for ignoring you sire. I was too occupied ending your horizontal bloodline to notice you standing there, silly me."

Ayame had a lot of rebuttals for Yuuma's sarcasm. None came out.

His annoying, lustful, idiotic brother was on the ground, dead.

"As you can see, I killed little Issei. My original plan was to end his life, and then, strip the skin off his bones. I really wanted you to find his desecrated corpse. Kind of like in a horror movie, yes? Then, after scaring the soul out of you, you'd follow him in the afterlife! But alas, mine dramatic machinations have been thwarted by inconvenient timing. Isn't fate a total bitch?"

One step towards him. Ayame didn't move.

"This nefarious scheme, I concocted after meeting you two. I drooled just imagining if you would keep your calm and cool after realizing you lost your stupid brother. Skewering your body to pieces would be the next step. Though I must admit, silent shock wasn't the reaction I expected out of you. It's… quite underwhelming. Are you sure you're human?"

Another distorted noise rang in his ears. With it, there was another spear in Yuuma's hand.

He did not speak. Was there any point in doing so, really?

Ayame's gaze fell upon Issei's corpse, as a vulture would upon dead, rotting meat. Hadn't his brother just died, exactly?

Yuuma followed his eyes, and laughed mirthfully again.

"Are you wondering why this is happening to you both?" she inquired with a sly intonation. "Well… it would be a waste of my time to explain it to a clueless vermin like you. But I'm not that cruel as to deny you the cause of your imminent death."

She got closer again. Her weapon of light twirled around and between her fingers. The movement was weightless, uninterrupted.

"Let's say I got orders to get rid of you, because you may hold something potentially dangerous within yourself." She pointed a finger at him. "I mean your Sacred Gear, of course."

Yuuma let out another dark giggle, seemingly enjoying herself.

"As for meeting you and your brother? Organizing that whole date? Well, that wasn't part of the plan at all. It was my… how do I say this? My 'otherworldly creativity' bleeding through, yes. We higher beings get fed up of following orders to the letter, so when we get feisty… we tend to be childishly cruel. Humans are far more intuitive when they spice things up. They're vicious and efficient."

She ran a finger over her quirked, pink lips.

"Unfortunately, I cannot hold a candle to my juniors. I couldn't even see my evil plot come to fruition! Regardless, I still had immense fun."

The sadistic girl stopped for a moment, and coughed in her fist.

"However, that is unimportant. Work comes first."

Yuuma's posture slackened for a moment-

"Here, catch!"

-And with a quick flick of her wrist, the light she was holding shoot out from her hand.

Ayame's senses flared. He raised both arms over his chest in a futile attempt to defend himself.

Wetness splashed across his face. He stumbled a bit from the force of the impact. With reluctance, he lowered his limbs.

The spear had pierced through his elbow, bisecting his left arm and puncturing his left shoulder in the process. Small chunks of torn tissue held on from the exposed piece of bone. A strong smell of burnt flesh overwhelmed his senses. Pain and disbelief mingled in his mind, eclipsing any logical thought he might have had.

He stared at the severed limb twitching on the ground. The pale arm jerked morbidly, fingers momentarily grasping at things that did not exist. More blood seeped from the zone of the injury, forming another crimson pool beneath.

His eyes went back to the rest of his arm attached to the body. The feeling was absolutely agonizing. It was burning his pain sensors to the point of soreness, and he couldn't withstand it. Numbness came swiftly after, when his nerves simply shut down.

But there was nothing.

No matter how much it hurt or elicited mysterious sensations out of him, he didn't scream, or cried, or changed his expression.

"Eh? Ehhhhh?" enounced Yuuma. "What is this? C'mon, I might have not hurt you too badly, but you still lost your arm. How come you're not screaming or rolling around? I prepared a diabolical monologue and everything, and you're just… silent. But I guess this is where humans shine. They're usually unpredictable."

Another spear made its way into existence.

"Let us continue! I want to hear you weep."

She launched it with barely another move.

Ayame's legs lost their strength. He had no stable footing anymore and fell towards the ground. It was cold like him. Cold like the death that awaited him.

The spear cleaved his right shoulder, barely missing his lung. If it had hit correctly, Ayame would have been breathing and coughing blood, drowning in what kept him alive for long.

"Please be a good boy and don't move, okay?" chimed Yuuma. "I normally don't take things seriously when dealing with lowly scum. Don't make things harder than it is."

Again the distorted noise. Again another spear.

"Be still. Next time I won't fail!"

Numerous projectiles hit him in full. In less than ten seconds Ayame was already covered in a coat of his own blood. Bones broke, blood spilled in liters, and flesh was torn apart with loud sounds. More blood discharged from the stump where his left arm had been. Each new attack rocked his body farther into the ground, sapping the bit of stamina he had left.

He felt holes in places where there weren't supposed to be holes. Some were shallow and others had air flowing through them. From every single wound was born an indescribable burning feeling.

Somehow, he didn't die. She was apparently missing vital spots on purpose. Judging from her words, Yuuma really wanted to make him beg for his life.

"Ahhh… you really live up to the sayings that insects are persistent," grunted Yuuma. "Yet yours is a tedious persistence. You won't even talk. It's such a shame."

His sight was blurry. He barely registered Yuuma's form in a world shrouded in darkness. But he saw, more or less, another blinding light held by the girl's hand. It was coming. It was finally coming.

"Boring until the end, eh? I guess I had the wrong expectations," Yuuma said with a hint of disappointment. "I'll just put you out of your misery once and for all."

This was the end. Ayame couldn't do anything. Issei had died, and he would follow suit.

A gurgling murmur slipped from his mouth.

"Oh? It seems you're finally going to talk. Fine, then. Let me hear your final words."

He took some seconds to adjust his exhausted voice. Air was stuck in his lungs, refusing to leave its refuge as he pushed his diaphragm, pushed until finally, his vocal cords could work with something else than wheezes and coughs. He crumpled on himself, unable to concentrate on anything but the pain and his organs that dared to go against his will. Trying to stand up was impossible. The blood was drying up, painting another crimson layer on his soon-to-be corpse.

"D…o… Do…"

His voice was calm, but raw. A mixture of indifference and overwhelming pain.

"…Do it."

It was nothing more than a whisper. Yet, at the sudden change in Yuuma's expression, he felt compelled to say it again.

"Do it."

The girl seemed surprised for a brief moment. Then, she smiled mockingly.

"You're just a piece of work, aren't you? Are you trying to make me change my mind, apply some reverse psychology? I'll admit you're somewhat frustrating boy. I can't figure you out."

Ayame repeated his words, each time louder.

"Do it!"

Yuuma closed her eyes. Her features were set in a serene countenance. The hand around her spear clenched. The spear itself grew larger and brighter.

"Really, what kind of person have I encountered? Humans just get more and more disturbing as the ages go on. Why would God grant life to those that do not want it? The mysteries of creation, ladies and gentlemen."

Ayame knew what was coming. That was what he wanted more than anything. The only thing he desired, the only thing he had yearned for so long.

"DO IT!"

"Oh, shut up and die, you."

She stomped her left foot forward, launching her ethereal weapon at him with much more strength than before. A blast of wind followed the spear's wake as it hungrily closed distances with its objective.

A blow with enormous strength struck him down.

Ayame stayed immobile. His mind was spinning. He couldn't think straight.

He looked down.

Bloody and charred, there was a gaping hole where his heart was supposed to be.

Funny. Now, there really was nothing inside of him.

After tilting from back to forth, he finally fell on his chest in the same manner Issei did. Lifeless, and on a pool of his own blood messily staining the cold ground, his final resting place.

He couldn't see anymore. He couldn't hear anything anymore. He couldn't breathe anymore.

.

.

.

Does it hurt, Ayame?

.

.

.

The blood vessels that had ruptured inside of his body were starting to drown him. His lungs couldn't function anymore. His body couldn't do the littlest he was so used to; existing. He felt heavy.

.

.

.

Contrary to what many people believe, pain is not always bad.

.

.

.

There was a thumping sound thrumming through his ears. It wasn't his heart, which had been vaporized. Yuuma walked away from her victims and the place where they had fallen. She lost interest much like the pedestrian that stumbled upon uninteresting rocks on the road.

.

.

.

Pain is not only a biological response. It doesn't mean we're just going to die.

.

.

.

Ayame's eyelids were closing with a shiver. His world was disintegrating. His mind was dissolving. What little remained was a faraway memory. A childhood recollection.

.

.

.

If it hurts, be happy. You're still alive.

.

.

.

The darkness was finally devouring him whole. His end was coming near and Ayame wanted to embrace it, to be engulfed and vanish in the nothingness that had crept over him for so long. His meaningless life was coming to an end and he welcomed it with something akin to gladness.

Golden cracks ran through his blackening world. They beat like veins, subsisting through him and his pain. His vision was obscured and so were his thoughts.

But… far away, distant, was a flickering blue light. It was weak, flimsy, coming and going as if it couldn't decide between appearing and vanishing, between living and dying. He watched it blankly. The little light flickered with more energy. There was a hidden sense of strength in it. It was something that, even in its last moments, refused to give in.

It flamed in the darkness, shining just enough for his dying consciousness to acknowledge its mystical presence.

Everything was disappearing. And just before finally blacking out, he-

.

.

.

Get up.

Pain is not so bad. It's you. It's you who, despite the pain, won't get up to stop it.

You can feel pain and acknowledge you're alive. But if you don't get up, if you lie down and just accept it… that's the moment you have truly died.

.

.

.

And, right then, the teenager known as Ayame Hyoudou died.

---

~Author's note~

Fin.

Sooo, that's it for today boys and girls. Tell me what did you think of this first chapter in the reviews. Try to make it concise and well written. Better reviews make for a better story in the long run, and I need the reader's insight. How did you like Ayame? Were the other characters well portrayed? Did you like the descriptions and dialogues? Tell me about anything that caught your interest. It really helps me.

D O N ' T ask for updates, 'kay? Quality over quantity, I say. It's better for me and you.

Also, kudos for everyone who actually read the author's note. You're all the real MVPs.

Have a good day. See ya.

(17/11/2019)