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.

9. Reunion

Phase 1 - Gula

Chapter 8 – Reunion (Part 1)

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Ayame was a creature of routine. He wasn't a special little snowflake in this regard – people in general could fall prey to recognizable patterns if they didn't bother to change at some point.

"One hundred and seventy one…. One hundred and seventy two…"

Humans found safety in organization and repetitions. No matter how much people could grow to despise them, repetitions took a burden off their shoulders and it was such a quintessential need that virtually everybody devised a habit whether they wished for it or not. It was a biological demand, and a requirement for mental peace.

"One hundred and seventy nine… One hundred and eighty… One hundred and eighty one…"

Routines fixed people within a predictable, predetermined path. This because the essence of a routine lay on efficiency and safety. Any sapient creature would quickly drown in details if the brain didn't conclude, 'Hey, I've seen this before. This is not important.'

"One hundred and eighty seven… one hundred and eighty eight…"

"Does it hurt, Ayame?"

Repetitions were known to last. They could endure long after the particular choices that birthed them were taken, long before a person ever considered breaking free. And then the solution to a problem became a problem without solution.

"Does it hurt, Ayame?"

"One hundred and ninety four… one hundred and ninety five… one hundred and ninety six…"

Life could easily become a walk in circles. How was one to escape from a cage without a door, then?

"One hundred and ninety seven…"

"Does it hurt, Ayame?"

"One hundred and ninety eight…"

"Does it hurt, Ayame?"

Escaping from the repetition seldom happened by choice. Real change came about by accident. It was unexpected, unwanted, a call from the real world and an offer that went on unanswered for far too long.

Humans were creatures of routine. They were drawn into it and trapped by it. The one paradoxical escape from this was confronting the reason for which it came to be.

"Does it hurt, Ayame?"

"…"

The hardest step about doing anything was starting, too.

This was even truer in Ayame's case. He didn't imagine himself changing. He didn't imagine stepping out of the routine he set for himself. And here he was, working out after seventeen years of not doing so, training like a champ.

"One hundred and ninety… seven."

"Does it hurt, Ayame?"

He was changing. The results of this change were impressive.

He catalogued the results as impressive just to see the positive side of them. The alternative category was unsettling, and that was perhaps closer to the truth.

"Does it hurt, Ayame?"

"One hundred and ninety… hmm…"

He didn't have much reason to wonder about the nature of his progress. The results benefitted him and, as much as he could perform mental gymnastics about it, he could spend that energy working harder. He didn't have to think. He just had to do it.

There was one problem though. For every pain—or lack thereof—that his routine had brought him, it was also a quiet little chain of events in which his lonesome times were just that. Lonesome. Quiet. Silent.

"Does it hurt, Ayame?"

He would rather kiss Issei than go back to that monotone existence. But Ayame had never detested the moments of respite, not really.

"Does it hurt, Ayame?"

Put it another way…

"Does it hurt, Ayame?"

"Shut. The fuck. Up. You're distracting me."

….Hearing voices in his head was irritating.

"From the moment I go to sleep to the moment I wake up, and then when I'm exercising or eating, you're still going on and on. Shut up. You're even worse than Himejima."

"Does it hurt, Ayame?"

The brunet sighed. He let himself fall slowly, as if doing another pushup. When he was closer to the floor, he smacked his forehead against it. He did it one, two, three times and then more.

"Shut. Up. Shut. Up. Shut. Up. I honestly can't stand your stupid voice and your stupid one-liners. At least let me do this in peace. I even lost count of my repetitions… leave me alone, you fucking annoying auditory cancer."

"Does it hurt, Ayame?"

He sighed yet again. Why bother and argue? The voices had no interest to engage in conversations. They would chip away at his patience with their insipid, repetitive questions and wait until he was in a vulnerable state to rub his weaknesses on his face. When they couldn't, they just reminded him he was a miserable bastard and that he would die like one.

The voices had been troubling when they first appeared. They usually accompanied his hallucinations and were even more disturbing in consequence. Without the threat of imminent death, Ayame wondered what they were trying to accomplish at all right now. They just didn't carry the same presence with them.

Or perhaps that was their warning, hidden beneath tasteless mocking.

The voices would remain and whisper calamities in his ear no matter what. They did so on his deathbed and they were doing so now that he felt livelier than ever.

A gut feeling told him they would not stop.

"Tsk. Whatever, then. Do as you please."

"Does it hurt, Ayame?"

Ayame let his body descend in a measured motion. He trembled, struggling to ignore the burning ache in his muscles or the heavy weight of his body eclipsing the bit of stability he had left. The closer he was to the floor, the harder it was not to collapse on it, as if the parquet was tempting him to fall and entrust his burden to it

Ayame bit his lip.

The creaking of his shoulders did not matter. The incoming headache product of tensing his whole body did not matter. The impossible effort his arms demanded not to cave in did not matter. The cold sweat in his eyes, the fire in his stiff stomach, the simple desire to surrender, as he had no energy left to spare… nothing mattered.

"Does it hurt, Ayame?"

Neither did the voices matter.

One thing truly mattered this moment. He would reach this milestone. He would cross the finish line.

Ayame's face contorted. He gasped and moaned in pain as he drew willpower from nowhere, pushing himself up yet again.

His body shook. Another unceremonious moan escaped from his mouth as he arched his back, seeking relief in a position where there was none.

The brunet's face contorted even further as he descended one last time.

"T-Two… two hundred."

His face felt wetter. He couldn't tell if it was the sweat or a couple of tears he'd shed from the severe effort.

Ayame descended, descended, descended.

The teen descended until he could count the specks of dust gathering on the wood beneath him. He descended until he could notice sweat pooling on the floor, falling off in trickles, just in the space where his eyes could not see unless they crossed.

He exhaled. Hot sugary air bounced off the floor and onto his face.

One more push. Just one more. He had come this far in so little time. If he had done so many already, he could do just one more.

"Does it hurt, Ayame?"

And of course, there they were, in spite of the unsuitable mood or the inconvenient timing of their appearance.

"Does it hurt, Ayame?"

No amount of taunting would make him fall. It would not even the thought of it tempted him like a bowl of water tempted a thirsty dog.

"Does it hurt, Ayame?"

And somehow, despite the clearly insulting nature of their words… they were there. They wanted him to fail, to face plant on the floor. They wanted to show him for what he was. A failure. Someone who wasn't willing to go the extra mile.

"Does it hurt, Ayame?"

They were there. He wanted to prove them wrong.

For the first time in a while, he wanted to prove someone wrong.

Anyone could have said anything about him and he wouldn't have cared. These stupid voices came from inside his head. Ayame didn't particularly understand the inner workings of a nutcase, being one himself, but he could at least tell they were his crazy voices.

Ayame curled his fingers until they were claws against the wood. He stretched his legs until the joints popped. He took deep breaths in even though they burnt inside his tight chest. He flexed his arms further even if he couldn't feel them at all anymore, a weighty nothingness in their place.

One more time.

Ayame took another breath in.

His face relaxed as he exhaled. His eyes opened to a blurry, humid picture of the floor awfully close for comfort.

The brunet tensed up. Then…

"Hah!"

…With mighty effort and a timid war cry, his body shot up one last time.

Time stopped. For an infinite couple of seconds, his body did not exist. Neither did his mind. The pain wasn't there either. There was only the realization, a fickle sense of pride.

He basked in it and enjoyed the feeling of a new success.

His lips twitched as the beginning of a smile threatened to transform his face. He forced it down, unwilling to celebrate when his arms were a moment of distraction away from caving in.

Besides, a triumphant smile was better reserved for special moments. Ayame decided he'd dedicate that one to Yuuma. But only when she was all bloody, beaten to a pulp, unable to be on anything else but her knees.

Conjuring a necessary dose of willpower, Ayame set his knees on the floor. Then he slowly, slowly gathered himself and rose on his two feet. He stretched, twisting his arms and torso in different positions to alleviate them of the strain they'd collected during his workout.

His bones rattled a satisfying symphony as they popped under his skin. He sighed as they relaxed back into their rightful place.

Ayame rubbed his face. He carefully removed beads of sweat that were still accumulating around his eyes. When the excess fluid was too much for his hands, he grabbed his sweatier shirt and used it as towel.

"Two hundred. A new record," he mumbled, uncovering his face. "Seems to be my hard limit for now. No signs of a heart attack up to that point either, though I guess that's not something brought about by exercise itself."

The brunet let go of his shirt. He tiptoed, extending his arms above his head and stretching his back along with them. Another rattling tune followed along his spine before he concluded with a yawn.

He relaxed once again.

"That should be enough indoor exercises for today."

Having said that, he did a sharp turn and marched out of his room.

The Hyoudou household remained silent save for Ayame's footsteps. The hallways were lightless, too, except for faint rays of light infiltrating through one or two windows of bedrooms left open. Hadn't it been for him, the house would've seemed empty.

Well, it was empty. There wasn't anybody at home except Ayame. He was the schmuck who wasn't supposed to be here, considering he skipped school yet again. His mother looked less than thrilled when he specified his plans for today and Issei nearly dragged him out of the house in his underwear.

Ayame sighed at the memory. Was it really so grave to ditch classes? He'd never skipped school. Never. Annoying classmates and bothersome homework wore him down well enough that the possibility of wallowing by his lonesome didn't really appeal him at the end of the day.

Most of the time, at least.

Skipping school should've been a good prospect. He had finally found something worth his time and energy.

His father… well, ironically enough, the teacher of the family was more than okay with Ayame's staying at home. Not that he didn't worry about his elder son, but Haruto probably sensed he needed this more than he needed perfect attendance at Kuoh Academy.

If only he knew.

Ayame stalked throughout dark empty spots. Whether consciously or not, he didn't put much more pressure on his steps, as if making sure he didn't disturb someone's sleep. Whose sleep? He didn't know. He just knew from recent experiences that silent places were rather deadly.

Perhaps Yuuma was waiting around the corner and Ayame was trying not to alert her. She was waiting, spear in hand, itching to finish the job. It wouldn't take her more than a thrust of her hand to splatter his organs across the walls. In the darkness of the house, his rests would dry and fester until someone finally arrived to admire the unfortunate scene.

Ayame didn't find Yuuma as he turned. There was black nothingness in the spot where he expected death.

Someone did laugh in a faraway place.

"Not yet. It's not your time yet, Mister Excited."

The brunet nodded. Mocking or not, she was not wrong.

Ayame eventually reached the bathroom. He strutted inside and immediately took off his shirt. He threw it to the floor and then turned to the mirror while setting his hands on the sink.

He analyzed his ghoulish, thin reflection. Ayame could definitely spot places where his muscles were bulking up. They were nothing super impressive though. The skin hugged his ribs; his collarbone was nearly see-through, and his belly stuck out unpleasantly with breakfast he'd recently eaten.

The teen licked his lips. Then he closed his eyes and hummed.

"Patience," he murmured. "No one can't reverse years of sedentary lifestyle in a few days. The results are incredible as they are, even if I don't have a nice figure to show."

Or so he said. Ayame lifted his right arm and flexed. The tiny bulge of his bicep was visible and presented an image he was quick to call deplorable.

Ayame pursed his lips, a troubled expression on his face.

"What an eyesore. You couldn't look more pitiful if you tried," said Ayame to his reflection. "I can't begin to understand how you just did two hundred pushups."

Except he did understand. There was much more than just physical strength at play here. Never mind his unhealthy habits or his lacking physique, there was untapped potential in him. Nothing else would've allowed him to work so hard when trained people struggled to perform lesser feats.

Ayame's mind betrayed him as an irritating thought surfaced. Akeno was another crisp example of that supernatural double-faced nature. She could crush bones like cookies with the same ease she recited shitty poetry with, and then smile about it.

The brunet shuddered. No, there was no Akeno. Akeno Himejima didn't exist. One of his reasons to skip school definitely wasn't to avoid a wench with that exact name.

In the impossible case Akeno did exist, Ayame was sure she cursed him in some way. She'd bothered him so much—in another universe—that her stupid grinning face manifested inside his head whenever he achieved tranquility.

She was absent. Somehow, she was still petty enough to sneak her way into his thoughts. So unbearably histrionic a woman she twisted reality itself to invade and nest in his imagination. And everything so she could remind him of her and how insufferable she was.

The teen shook his head. When that wasn't sufficient to center himself, he whacked himself with a hand.

"She doesn't exist if I can't see her."

Ayame decided on a flawed philosophical tenet for his peace of mind. Then he settled his attention on something not as irritating but certainly uglier than Akeno – namely, himself.

This time he wasn't interested in his non-existent muscles. His gaze rested on his reflection's chest. There, amidst sweaty white skin, lingered an obsidian scar.

It seemed nothing more than a gash from its size. Although dangerously dark in color, it didn't seem bruised, or infected by disease. Smaller scars like veins spread from the bigger one. Upon closer inspections, Ayame could see them pulsing, throbbing at the rhythm of his heartbeat and becoming blacker for a second before relaxing into simple marks like tattoos.

The brunet probed with his fingers carefully. His breath hitched at the touch. He didn't probe further by pressing, already feeling the tenderness of the scar and the threat of the pain it'd bring if bothered more than necessary.

Ayame removed his fingers. He took another breath.

"Good. The corruption hasn't advanced much," he concluded. "One training session doesn't seem extreme enough to push me to my limit. Perhaps I also need time to deteriorate on top."

The teen continued undressing by taking off his pants. He didn't take his eyes off the scar.

"Maybe I'm just getting accustomed and I can't notice the tension. I have been sick for a while… Well, no, I shouldn't speculate about my endurance anyway. As interesting an experiment as it may be to let this thing run its course, risks aren't worth taking if failure means death."

He threw his pants along his shirt. After another stretch and a sigh, he marched into the shower stall and turned on the hot water. Ayame hummed as the pleasant warmth slid down his skin. He ran fingers through his brown hair; he slid it back as soon as it was wet enough.

Life improved considerably overnight. Who would've thought a simple shower could feel so satisfying? Ayame certainly hadn't. Then again, the teen had been hard-pressed to think for quite some time, too occupied doubling over in pain as he fought to keep bile and blood in his stomach.

"Does it hurt, Ayame?"

The voices weren't particularly pleasant either. At the very least, they weren't foreboding fever dreams like the ones he'd gotten accustomed to suffer. Slogging through the painful motions had gotten tiring after a while. He nearly died because of them as well.

"Does it hurt, Ayame?"

He also discovered another way to survive because of them. His bloodletting plan wouldn't have been a thing, not really, if he hadn't been pushed to open himself up out of desperation. Necessity truly was the mother of invention and it spared him the suffering of asking the non-existent Akeno for help.

"I guess I also liked stabbing myself," he mused. "I've had it coming for a while, to be honest."

"Does it hurt, Ayame?"

Ayame rolled his eyes.

"It didn't hurt enough if that's what you're wondering," he responded. "And it'll take much more than that to make me… croak. Issei would say something to that effect, yes."

Of course, unwittingly experimenting with the physical and mental limits of his body had proven quite useful. He was superhuman all right. If he could find a way to abuse his healing abilities, strengthen his body faster by breaking it and letting it fix itself… yes, Ayame saw how it could work. And once he learned to channel anima, to cast spells like an imaginary person named Akeno…

…There'd be hell to pay and fun to have.

"Decisions, decisions. So much to do, so much to learn. Where should I start?"

Ayame considered the possible courses of action as he turned off the water. He considered as he dried off and then returned to his room with a towel and nothing else. He considered and chuckled, because damn it was hard to choose.

"Physical training still trumps magic in terms of efficiency," he analyzed. "I'm pretty strong and I also heal immediately. I don't think I could milk magic for all its worth, at least not quickly enough to hurt Yuuma. Then again, efficiency isn't really the point."

It really wasn't. What, then, marked the difference between one type of training and another? How could he choose when every option seemed appealing all the same?

"Ah."

Yes, perhaps that was it.

Which option seemed the most appealing? Which could bring him impressive results? Which could entertain him the most?

"Well, the pushups were, hmm… fun." Ayame cupped his chin, looking at no particular direction. "Training with not-Akeno was pretty neat too, if absolutely troublesome by the end. If I follow her tips, I may make a breakthrough next time I practice magic. So I should definitely… keep thinking about it."

And so Ayame ended up back where he started. The brunet sighed, postponing the final say at least until he clothed himself.

The teen rummaged through his closet as soon as he got close enough. He seized those that seemed comfortable enough to jog outside, never mind their style nor color. He then pulled away and began to dress… or so was his original plan.

A small detail caught his attention the second he tensed his hand on the door of the closet. He stopped and frowned. He leaned inside yet again. The brunet nudged hangers and neatly folded piles of clothes aside, training his eyes on the curious object…

…Objects, actually. They were discolored clothes. A simple t-shirt and comfortable pants with clear signs of wear and tear. From there, he noticed firm, subtle stitches at the seams where they had come undone in the past.

Even as he had them in front of his face, the clothes evaded his memory, and so did the reason they intrigued him at first. The moments of doubt continued until the realization came in a sudden flash. Ayame's face immediately morphed into visible dismay.

Nearly all if not the entirety of his clothes were unused. Ayame did not attend social meetings, so most of his outfits were left gathering dust, but they were undeniably new. He didn't have mended clothes. At least he thought so, until he admitted to the obvious fact.

Ayame retrieved his hand as if disgusted by what he touched. Then he ran a hand through his hair, thinking.

"I'm an utter moron. Days of oh-so brilliant planning to kill Yuuma and I magically forgot about this," he said with a defeated voice. "If Mother finds out… no, no, she didn't. She would've asked otherwise."

He looked behind him, as if making sure no one saw the 'incriminating' scene. Then he set his eyes on the offending items.

"I suppose it makes sense. With so much confusion and distress, this must've gone over everybody's head at that time. It slipped my mind too. Yes, I remember now. This is where I hid them back then."

With more resolve, Ayame fished for the mends inside the closet again. He wrenched them out and turned to stare at them.

"I have to get rid of these. Maybe throw them in a public container. Nobody should find them at my home…"

Such was the logical solution. It was also rather simple to carry out. The fewer who knew about this, the better. Even then, Ayame found himself losing his voice after murmuring his plan.

The brunet stopped once again. His blue eyes scanned the clothes, folded yet crumpled by his grip as they were. He saw the wrinkles, the fading colors, and the tender care they had received in spite of the degradation. Time and use had been mean to them. They must have protected others against embarrassment and the elements. Even as they outlived their useful lifespan, someone cared enough to fix them into something wearable.

Ayame's features softened. He looked at the mends with an indescribable sentiment flashing across his face.

A few seconds passed. Later, he brought a hand upon his neck. He caressed the unbelievably velvety surface of his scarf. His digits registered pleasant sensations as he probed the fine golden details, the supple black body. He felt the way it flowed and adjusted to his collar snuggly, as if it was a second layer of skin.

A while of silence came and went. Ayame broke it with another sigh.

"If I ever had reservations about being stupid, now this is definite proof," the brunet admitted. "Where's my wallet? I think I'll need to buy a gift along the way."

Magic could wait a bit longer. Akeno already put him through her super sorcery masterclass the day before. It'd have been foolish to rush his training without reason.

Yuuma didn't know he was alive. She wasn't searching for him either. He had time to hone his newfound powers and tie some loose ends before things got ugly for real. He had time. He didn't have to rush towards his end.

"Patience." Ayame stuffed himself into a hoodie and his running pants. His heart beat quickly, sending tingles throughout his body in waves. "Patience."

He could tell himself that all he wanted. Truth was, the image of Yuuma's violet eyes, mocking smile, bewitching face, it would not leave his mind. The teen detested his inability to think about something else as much as he enjoyed deciphering the fuzzy memory as if it was their first day talking.

Patience, anyway. Patience. They could kill each other later.

"Good boy," Ayame heard as a soft whisper along his ear. He shivered and it was enough to set him straight.

Now… time to return some clothes.

---

- ~DxD~ -

Nightmarish hallucinations had prepared Ayame for an equally nightmarish path as he set out of his house. There was no such thing. Neither was the street a melting chasm ready to engulf him nor were the stores and houses ominous altars adorning his march towards death. Surely enough, the more he strutted, the more memories came back to him, twisted as they were in his mind and then rectified by a bustling city with smiling people.

Twice he got lost and not because of hallucinations, though. Sometimes he simply didn't recognize a particular turn or a certain passage. Ayame felt somewhat dismayed at that – Kuoh was his hometown. Sprinting from one end of the town to another was a piece of cake as a kid. Alternatively, getting lost didn't just happen unless you were blind as a rock.

…Well, Kuoh Town had undergone a heavy urbanization process a couple of years ago. The place changed too much since then and Ayame wasn't like Issei who sought adventure—and women—where even cockroaches dwelled.

A lot had changed. His hometown had developed incredibly and he hadn't kept up with the new times ahead.

That playground he frequented as a child. That little candy store in which he spent his allowance on gummy bears. The riverside where he, Issei and Rin laid down to watch the stars—

—Gone.

Everything, gone without a trace.

Nearly everyone had moved on too.

Their horizons had expanded and so did their worlds and lives. And those who were around now, they would find their calling, carve their own path, move on towards their finishing line and a happy ending.

He was still trailing far behind.

Not anymore, though. Never again.

An hour and something flew by as he gradually recovered his bearings of Kuoh. A shorter while passed searching for his destination. He had to commit to memory and hope familiarity led him well enough, knowing neither the name nor the address of the place he sought. The wandering continued a bit more until he distinguished an interesting sight in the distance.

Ayame trained his eyes. There, surrounded by a neighborhood and modest stores, was a white building. From his spot he could see it was wider than it was tall, having just a ground floor and a first floor but occupying the equivalent space of a small block. Spiky black fencing encircled its perimeter against unwanted guests.

The teen marched forward. As he approached, he noticed the finer details of the building, like small sculptures and carvings adorning the outer rims of the windows and the entrance. It reminded him of Kuoh Academy in the sense of having the same architectural influence, a European flavor that was out of tune with the town.

His sight travelled up the place's length. On top of the roof stood a tall black cross that caught the light of the sun on its surface.

He sighed. Then he looked nowhere else but the ground while ignoring the bags he was holding with his right hand. They swung back and forth and sometimes bumped on his thigh.

Ayame looked forward again. Another sight distracted him, that of a nun and another person standing in front of the fenced entrance.

The nun was an elderly woman with round glasses upon closer inspection. Next to her was a man in formal attire and a wavy hairstyle, a businessman from his looks. In one hand, he was holding a suitcase. In the other, a plastic bag he was gently holding towards the nun.

Ayame got close enough just in time to hear an exchange of words. He stopped not to intrude.

"…You shouldn't have, Masaroku-san," chuckled the nun while timidly grasping the bag. "Donations are wholly appreciated but you shouldn't feel pressured to drop by every morning with goodies to boot. The place will be cluttered with presents at this rate."

"Nonsense. What's the point of having a whole lemon tree at home and not share some? I surely can't eat them all by myself. Besides, Erika will have my scalp if I don't show the nice little nuns some neighborly love on my way to work. Please take them. Help me by helping you."

"Attaboy. It is said he who finds a wife finds goodness and obtains favor from the Lord, but Erika-san should see this sweetheart she's found for herself." The nun then took the lemons more decidedly. "Methinks someone just wants to make his dear happy. Never mind the nice little nuns."

Masaroku shrugged.

"It's also said you should fear the Lord but I honestly fear Erika more than I fear Him," said the businessman as he turned to leave.

Yue lifted the bag of lemons and smiled.

"That works well enough, if it motivates you to do good to your neighbor! Now go and earn your bread kid."

Masaroku replied with a laugh. He walked away from her and in Ayame's direction, passing by him and giving him an acknowledging nod before resuming his commute. For his part, Ayame put on the straightest face he could as the nun turned and finally saw him there.

The brunet walked up to her. She adjusted her glasses and showed him a curious smile.

"Good morning child. Is there something I can help you with?"

Ayame pursed his lips. His left hand twitched the beginning of a handshake. He instantly decided against it, unsure if that was the best way to salute a nun of all people. Handshakes weren't his thing anyway.

"Good morning." The teen stared at the building behind the woman. "I've come to return some stuff. I also need to speak with someone. Is there a nun by the name of Ichika Koharu here?"

Yue's smile immediately transformed and there was a puzzled expression in its place. She placed a hand on her wrinkled cheek. Her eyes now scanned him with further curiosity.

"Ichika? My, I certainly didn't expect someone to come asking for her specifically. Have you met her somewhere before or is it personal business you're here for…?"

She trailed off. Another change in her eyes alerted Ayame and he averted his. From the corner of his vision, he saw the nun inching closer, probably getting a better look of him.

Yue took ahold of her chin. Then she covered her mouth. When Ayame turned to make eye contact, he saw color draining from the woman's aged face. Recognition, relief and something like horror dawned on her expression and Ayame wasn't sure how to respond or appease her.

"Oh. Oh my goodness…" murmured Yue with a little gasp. "You're that boy from a few days ago. Yes, the one we took in at night. I can't be mistaken."

Ayame nodded after a moment, silent. The nun looked even more flabbergasted at the confirmation but ultimately composed herself, little by little.

"Christ. All the sisters were so troubled when you showed up. I surely will never forget cleaning that much blood off you. Then, you simply disappeared and we had prepared for the worst. This… this is unbelievable."

Ayame nodded again. "I know. It's a long story. All I can say is I didn't mean to inconvenience you with my presence or lack thereof. I didn't mean to crash at this convent the way I did either. It was… a really weird night."

"No, you weren't an inconvenience!" Yue instantly clarified. "We were just really worried for your wellbeing! You seemed in such a terrible state everyone was ready to care for you if necessary."

The teen shifted. That went better than he expected. In hindsight, no, he wasn't comfortable showing face to the people that got him off the street after jumping over their fence.

"Well, you can stop worrying about me now," reassured Ayame. "I'm fine as you can see."

"So it seems! And I couldn't be happier to tell you the truth. Hah, I should thank you for giving me this peace of mind. It's a wonderful way to start the day."

Ayame hummed. He lifted his bag so that Yue could see it.

"Yes. Now, for my peace of mind, I wanted to return these. I also wanted to talk to Ichika, if she's available."

The nun gestured vigorously, nodding at his request.

"Of course, of course! She will be delighted to see you," explained Yue before sighing, smiling. "Ichika's a slacker, that one. Her heart is big as her naps are long. At this hour, she should be cleaning dust off the entrance but I'm sure she's drooling all over her sheets. The only reason I don't complain more is because it's her turn to do the laundry as well."

She turned around. She seemed unsure whether to leave right away or stay. Then she pointed a finger at the convent.

"Please wait a bit youngster. I'll go wake that girl up right away."

He waved a hand to signal her. With that, Yue quickly disappeared inside the building after pushing through the brilliant wooden doors at the entrance.

Without much to do as he waited, he decided to peek into his bags to check nothing was missing.

It definitely wasn't to muse about simpler things. Or so he tried to fool himself and instantly failed. Truth be told, mobilizing an entire convent as if he was an injured chick falling into a den of mother birds wasn't an intention of his and it rattled him something fierce.

Ayame waited for a quarter of an hour. He checked his bags two or three times more. Then, arguing voices emerged from the convent and the teen tensed up, expectant.

"You irresponsible little wretch!"

"Ouch, ouch, ouch! Stop pulling my hair Yue! Do you have any idea how long it takes to get the waves right?! Allow me some basic presentability!"

"It's Sister Yue to you." A thud and another 'ouch' followed. "And don't give me any crap about presentability! Everyone else is doing their chores while you're in bed and reading manga, in nothing but your underwear and giggling like a silly schoolgirl. Have you no shame?!"

"I was tireeeeeed," whined the younger voice. "C'mon Sister Yue. I spent all night p-praying and I couldn't get a wink of sleep! At least let me enjoy a good read in the morning!"

"If you want a good read then read the bible. That would seem far more productive and in line with your job. And on the subject of praying!"

Another thud. There was a girly yelp of pain. Ayame couldn't help imagining a squeaky toy crushed underfoot the moment he heard.

"Praying. I don't remember seeing you pray last night. I do remember a haggard fool sneaking around to watch TV in the dead of night! Which series was it? Shadow Demon Genesis?"

A dramatic gasp somehow echoed out of the convent.

"It's called Black Devil Genesis. Don't you dare diss Captain John Marshal, Sister Yue! Fictitious or not, his struggle to suppress his demonic impulses while serving his country is nothing short of admirable! That series is an ode to the indomitable human spirit and a beautiful epic of a man who holds onto his ideals as the world crumbles into nonsense and pain! It's a Christian masterpiece the likes of you would never comprehend—!"

The squeaky toy reappeared in Ayame's mind. He flinched as another sharp yip assaulted his ears, only to roll his eyes soon afterwards.

The doors finally swung open at that moment.

He recognized the silky black robes and the jangly silver cross well enough as soon as he saw them. The woman wearing them, not so much at first.

Her hair was as brown as he remembered. The veil of her habit was missing, revealing a long shiny mane arranged in both waves and messy curls. She probably didn't have time to brush it if her earlier complaining was anything to go by. She had pale skin, darkening just around her eyes where there were signs of sleeplessness.

Her eyes, Ayame noticed, were of a brilliant sapphire hue. It wasn't a normal kind of blue. They were distinct, vivid, a kind of gaze he'd have trouble forgetting once he saw it once. They brought to mind a particular image soon as he got a glimpse of them. He couldn't muse much about the mysterious feeling anyway, as he was quicker to see they were bloodshot as well, teary-eyed from emotion and pain.

Ichika Koharu, the nun that first greeted him after his death at the hands of Yuuma. Yue marched just behind her while tugging a handful of Ichika's hair in reprimand. The younger nun clawed meekly at her captor, biting her lip not to let unceremonious moans come out.

"O-Okay, okay Sister Yue. I won't raise my voice again. Just lemme goooooooo~"

Yue simply shook her head. "Honestly. I normally wouldn't rebuke you if your foolish habits just didn't interfere with your responsibilities. Learn to manage your free time, girl."

The older nun finally let go of her victim. Poor Ichika whined in relief as she straightened her hair, running her fingers through the tangled mess.

"Hmph! That really hurt Sister Yue!" huffed Ichika like a sassy little girl. "Don't just barge into my room and drag me around like a ragdoll. What gives?"

"Ask that boy over there," replied Yue while pointing a finger at Ayame. "He was the one eager to meet you and I couldn't leave him waiting."

Words of denial immediately formed in Ayame's mouth. He couldn't vocalize his thoughts soon enough when Ichika turned and finally saw him.

He stopped. She stopped as well, mouth agape, eyes opening in disbelief as if she had seen a ghost. Neither one said a single word in a silent round of staring that stretched out for long seconds.

Just then, in that tense instant, the realization hit Ayame like a bullet train at full speed.

He had not prepared for this meeting at all.

What was he supposed to say? The most reasonable explanation to justify his circumstances would take an hour, at the very least, and in the best of cases. The brunet couldn't simply tell the workings of the supernatural to normal people either. Ichika was the nice little nun of the neighborhood, nothing more. She deserved an answer and Ayame hadn't thought of a believable lie in place of the weirder truth.

'Patience', he told himself on loop and somehow he hadn't gotten the memo yet.

Then, another thought hit him. Was he cognitively bankrupt to chain one unnecessary mistake after another?

Ayame didn't get the chance to arrive at a conclusion. A loud voice pulled him back into the real world.

"Ayame!"

Ichika said so with an explosive cocktail of emotions flashing across her face. There was the beginning of a smile, a glassy-eyed look, and her shoulders loosening with respite. Ayame flinched. His brain tried to decipher what each gesture meant and failed spectacularly, unable to keep up with the barrage of feelings shown to him.

The nun skipped some precipitated steps towards him and nearly face planted on the ground. She practically ran that distance of a few feet until nothing but the touch of a finger separated them. Ichika skidded to a halt, and then she was looking up at him.

She stared at him intensely. She stared so intensely it seemed as if Ayame would disappear if she broke eye contact. Worry lingered in her eyes and refused to leave completely, so distrustful that she was of the crisp evidence in front of her, disbelieving the wellbeing of the boy that had previously crawled into her convent for help.

"Look at me."

Ichika's command alerted Ayame of his own gestures. He looked aside without thinking, unable to face the harmless nun he towered over.

"Look at me," she repeated calmly. "Please."

The brunet wordlessly obeyed. He was looking at her, then.

Ayame flinched yet again as Ichika cupped his cheek. There was no warning, no asking for permission. The nun invaded his personal space and she did not let go of him, not even as he instinctively tried to pull away.

She simply stared. With her hands, she felt his skin, caressed his hair, rubbed his ears. The woman explored every inch of his face and head. Her touches were gentle, unrequited as they were, as if handling a fragile newborn.

A minute or two passed until she was done inspecting him. Once Ichika finished, her lips arched into a small smile.

"It really is you."

Ayame had nothing to say for a moment. He waited, speaking just as the woman had confirmed his identity.

"You remembered my name," murmured the teen monotonously.

"Of course I did," assured the nun.

Ichika began caressing him again. One hand of hers slowly slid over one side of his head.

"Ayame…"

Some mute seconds elapsed. Her face brightened if just a minuscule bit. If there was any other emotion hiding beneath her satisfaction upon seeing him safe and sound, he did not find it.

There was nothing but relief. Or so Ayame thought as a sharp, sudden pain formed on the side of his head. His vision blurred as a powerful force pulled him downwards so roughly he almost fell.

"…What the fuck were you thinking?!"

The world was then a fast-moving picture of melting colors. Ayame barely managed to remain focused thanks to the ache on his head but even that wasn't enough to get a grip. At least until stillness returned and he glimpsed at Ichika's livid expression. Her outstretched arm was a menacing sight as she gripped his hair and ear to maximize punishment.

"You. Are. Unbelievable!" Ichika accentuated every word with yet another yank that got awkward groans out of Ayame. "I literally do not give a shit if you're an adrenaline junkie or some bullcrap like that. You don't simply jump over a spiked fence minutes after waking up! This is a convent, not Guantanamo!"

A few yanks later and somewhat dazed, Ayame still managed to say, "Y-You know."

"Of course I know. I saw you climbing around like a drunk monkey, you dumbo," replied the nun through gritted teeth. "Left me speechless long enough that when I called out to you, you weren't within earshot anymore. The other sisters saw it too and I had to convince them you weren't a burglar."

She yanked again. Ayame's breath hitched.

"We didn't call law enforcement on your ass and trust me, buddy, when I say it wasn't for a lack of wanting to." Her warning was accompanied by a clenched fist dangerously close to his face.

"I have no excuse," was Ayame's labored response after some seconds.

She sniffed with a furious face. "You sure as hell don't. Please do tell me water is wet or cats meow, now that we're sharing stupidly obvious facts. Go ahead."

The teen did not follow with her infuriated demand. He just waited, meek and suffering within her grasp, in hopes she eventually cooled down. His ear felt particularly sore and he didn't want to risk ripping it off by trashing around either.

But, cool down she did. Ichika eased her hold on him, lifting him up so that they were looking at each other in a more comfortable position.

"Crazy bastard. If you ever seek for shelter in my turf again, I'll give you the Jesus treatment and nail you to the fucking bed. Better start calling me Centurion Ichika 'cause I'll be putting the 'Roman' in 'Roman Catholic' next time I care for you."

The angry staring continued some more. The angrier nun simply stared, lips pursed, young features twisted in an annoyed expression.

The annoyance and anger quickly went away, though. In their place was a jaded yet satisfied smile.

"Big sis Ichika needed to express her anger and you've been a very naughty boy lately. Having said that-"

She let go of his ear. Her hand slithered around the back of his head. Ichika pushed Ayame forward.

His forehead met hers with a mellow tap.

"-I'm happy to see you safe and sound."

Ayame blinked. Then he took in a deep breath through his nose, feeding his brain with a much-needed dose of oxygen to resume basic functions. So close he was to Ichika, he could see her closed eyes and serene expression, smell the sweet fragrance clinging to her hair and skin.

Her brown lashes fluttered with slight movements of her lids. She nearly seemed absorbed in a beautiful dream. Ayame, taken aback as he was, could not bring himself to snap her out of it. Perhaps he wouldn't have while calm and collected neither.

Yue's voice snapped him out of his own reverie an instant later.

"Well then. I shall take my leave. You two littler ones focus on catching up with each other. This old lady has responsibilities somewhere else."

And with good humor, Yue returned inside the convent. Ayame was left there, stuck in the position where Ichika put him and in utter silence.

A while passed by. He nearly relaxed into it when the nun finally broke away gently, taking her hand off him.

"Aw man. This sure is a turbulent way to start the morning." She laughed while rubbing the back of her head. "All this emotion wouldn't do me any favors if I were any older. I'm a sensitive girl, y'know?"

Ayame cleared his throat as he rubbed his aching head.

"I noticed," said Ayame. "So much sensitivity has left my ear a bit sensitive, to tell you the truth."

"Oops. I'm so sorry Ayame. Do you want me to bring you first aid? I was kinda pissed back there so I didn't realize I was pulling too hard. I'm really sorry."

"It's fine. It isn't that bad." Ayame left his ear alone even though it still hurt pretty bad. "I came here expecting some wrist-slapping anyway. Escaping like I did wasn't my smartest move either."

"It was the silliest thing imaginable! One of the sisters even took a picture," said the smiley Ichika while quickly probing her robes. "Here, lemme show you. Ah, geez, where did I put my phone…"

Ayame raised a hand to stop her. "I look ridiculous on a normal basis. I don't need to see myself acting the part."

That got a livelier laugh out of the nun. She gave him a friendly shove.

"Look at you cracking a joke for a change. Last time we met, our conversation was a festival of 'whatevers' and 'none of your businesses' on loop," commented Ichika with a knowing smile. "I'm glad that was the tiredness talking trash back then and not you."

Ayame wasn't sure what to comment about his trash-talking mood or the joke that was not a joke. Ichika certainly wouldn't conclude the same if she pissed him off like a certain imaginary someone. But that was not the case and he didn't feel offensive today, so he shut up.

Instead, he looked aside while lifting the bag of clothes.

"This." The brunet then stammered weirdly upon seeing Ichika's confused look. "I mean, huh, these. I came here to return these."

The woman put her hands on her hips, puzzled. "I still don't know what you're supposed to return besides your pretty little face unharmed."

Ayame tsk-ed. He shoved the bag towards Ichika's direction even harder, frowning.

"The clothes, woman. The clothes meant for charity. I have no use for them anymore so I'm returning them."

"Oh. Ohhhhhh!" Ichika's face lighted up in recognition. "I remember now! Awwww, that's so freaking sweet of you, Ayame. You shouldn't have."

"…Sister Yue said the exact same thing a few minutes ago."

"Hmm? What exactly?"

"'You shouldn't have'. To a man gifting her lemons," clarified the teen. "I don't know about him in particular, but I do have to return these. They're for charity aren't they? That means they're not for the questionable teenager you picked off the street. So take them."

Ichika seemed bewildered for a second. Then that bewilderment morphed into an impish expression. She crossed her arms, regarding him with half-lidded eyes.

"Nitpicky, aren't we?" she said calmly. "To start off, that's just a cordial way of saying thank you. I'm expressing gratitude, not disregarding you. And second of all, why, Ayame, those clothes are for you, dear."

Ayame turned to look at her. He raised an eyebrow.

"How so?"

"You answered yourself already, dummy. 'Charity'. It's help, disinterested, unmotivated by anything except love. You can be charitable with the leprous vagabond who lives in an alley or the richest man in the world, if any of them were to need help. Were you not to return those clothes, well… that just means you really need them. Who am I to deny you something so basic, anyway?"

Ichika gingerly circled her hands around the bag. She waited until she could pry it off gently without yanking it away from Ayame's hand.

"I am not one to deny this thoughtful gesture of yours neither. So thank you~"

Ayame loosened his hold and Ichika finally recovered her gift. The teen ran a hand through his brown hair, looking in an unimportant direction.

"…The wicked borrows but does not pay back, but the righteous is generous and gives."

The woman stopped for an instant. She stared at Ayame as if he'd grown a second head. "Did you just…?"

"The wicked borrows but does not pay back, but the righteous is generous and gives," repeated Ayame. "Psalm, chapter thirty seven. I don't remember the particular verse."

There was no immediate response. The nun tilted her head slightly, surprise morphing into curiosity.

"Oh, I know what that is, dear. I didn't expect you to quote a bible verse of all things at me, that's all."

Ayame closed his eyes. "Do I seem so uneducated?"

She snorted before breaking into a laugh.

"You're so silly!" observed she with good humor. "No, dummy, no. Nobody with anything better to do grabs a Bible these days. It's common sense, duh."

Hearing a nun disregard the most sacred text of her religion nearly wrenched a smile out of Ayame. Thank God, his sense of humor was not broken yet and could register an absurd contradiction. Then again, she wasn't disregarding as much as she was acknowledging a fact, no matter how counterintuitive to admit the Bible wasn't a hit nowadays.

"You speak the truth, dear," continued Ichika. "What is owed must be repaid. It shall be the same on Judgment Day, when we're considered severely by our Lord and Savior."

She said so while closing her eyes, pensive. Her lips didn't take long before curving into a small smile again.

"That's the beautiful thing about the holy text, however. It doesn't present all the answers to life, nor does it present a plethora of solutions to one single problem sometimes. Some may consider the Bible a limited reading in this regard. Honestly, though? It depends on how you interpret it."

Ichika raised a finger in the air. The expression on her face changed, and she seemed to be reminiscing something in particular.

"Owe no one anything, except to love each other, for the one who loves another has fulfilled the law," said she firmly. "Romans, chapter thirteen."

The nun regarded him again with brilliant eyes. She extended a hand at him as if she was inviting him.

"A simple gesture of love is often sufficient to pardon the most deplorable debts. Tell me, Ayame: have your parents ever ordered you to repay everything they've done for you all these years? Have they compelled you to give them back they money they spent on raising you, the food they've fed you with, the clothes they've dressed you with, the moments of comfort when you were crying and disconsolate, or the hugs and kisses and words of appreciation because they felt like giving them to you?"

Ayame blinked.

"No."

Ichika nodded, gesturing calmly with her hand again.

"That is love. When there is love, there is nothing else to give, because what could possibly compare when someone is just happy you exist?"

Then she grinned victoriously.

"Cheer up, Ayame. They love you so, so much that they're willing to love you and give you even more on top. And most certainly, you've loved them back the same way they loved you, so you have fulfilled the law as well.

"As for me, well… do I even need to say it? I'm just happy you're here."

Ayame remained a stone statue before the nun. Long seconds passed, the teenager staring at nothingness, except this nothingness stared back at him with a smiley face and incomparable satisfaction.

"Soooo, answer me something," said Ichika. "You busy doing anything now?"

The brunet blinked again. "No. I had some time to kill and figured I could properly thank you. That's why I'm here."

"Neat!" She smiled and gestured at the convent with a hand. "Then lemme extend you an invitation. What say you and I enjoy a warm, tasty breakfast back inside? I kinda just woke up and I desperately need my dosage of coffee, hehehe~"

"So you're just going to invite me for breakfast."

"Yessir~"

"Inside a convent."

"Yeppity-yes!"

"…I need to confess a shocking secret. Turns out I'm not a nun."

"Oh, quit being such a wuss already. And none of that sass with me," whined Ichika. "It's fine boyo. We dragged you inside once and you were covered in blood back then. Nobody will complain as long as you behave. My treat. You dig?"

"I…"

A rejection lingered on the tip of Ayame's tongue. True, he was not doing anything much right now, but he originally planned to train using that free time. He skipped school for that purpose. His job here was done as well, so there was nothing tying him to Ichika anymore.

"…I guess it can't hurt. I'd like some coffee as well."

The rational part of his mind reprimanded him as soon as he spoke. Fooling around with a nun would not help him get stronger nor decipher the most efficient way to utilize his powers. Ayame wasn't sure he could kill Yuuma out of boredom by quoting witty bible verses at her, if push came to shove.

Honestly though? He never imagined himself having breakfast with a nun and it just felt funny. The situation did not fit his daily routine, either, and who was he to deny change when he was desperate for some?

This time would not be wasted. Besides, Ayame had some ideas on how Ichika could prove useful to him, supernaturally speaking.

"Owe no one anything, except to love each other, for the one who loves another has fulfilled the law…," murmured Ayame. "…What did you say the chapter was?"

Ichika perked up. "Oh, that one? It's Romans, chapter thirteen!"

"Uh-huh. Which verse, again?"

The nun shrugged her shoulders as she turned around.

"I kinda don't remember the particular verse, hehehe~"

Ayame looked away. He took a breath as he felt one corner of his lips twitching upwards.

The teen followed his savior into the convent as she smiled the happiest smile in the world.

---

- ~DxD~ -

"Twice Critical?"

"That is the name of your Sacred Gear, yes," confirmed Rias. She was looking at Issei's arm and not at him as she spoke, inspecting the mystical weapon encasing his hand. "It doubles your non-existent power for a short amount of time."

"Non-existent…" Issei trailed off, unsure on which type of frown would express his disappointment best.

"Ah, I'm sorry. Just thinking aloud," said she softly. "It may be limited in terms of application, but if used correctly and coupled with greater base strength… it should pack quite a punch."

The brunet hummed noncommittally. Issei respected his boss well enough to show he was listening, but not enough to pretend this 'inspection' wasn't a teensy bit irritating. Would Rias even notice if he chopped his arm off? Or would she keep talking to herself?

'I kinda feel like a piece of meat,' he observed inwardly. 'It's not like she's being mean but this is annoying for some reason.'

The reason wasn't as obscure as Issei wanted to believe. He finally, finally managed to summon his Sacred Gear after days of grueling effort. It wasn't straightforward like riding a bike; even as he got accustomed to the feeling of the Sacred Gear, making it appear took a lot out of him. Keeping it from disappearing was even harder, requiring focus he simply did not possess. Even now, Rias' beautiful face up-close threatened to rob him of his concentration, but he powered through, unwilling to bother his boss with his silly thoughts.

She was finally looking at him with something else than worry or pity and he didn't want to ruin the moment. Somehow, as satisfied as he was with the results, Issei didn't feel that the hours he spent not looking at women paid off.

This was his Sacred Gear. Sacred Gears were powerful weapons, weren't they? That meant they were pretty useful tools and that he, by proxy, was not as useless as he thought.

In hindsight, he probably expected his master to… well, to praise him or something for the effort.

No such luck, though.

Issei stared down at the bright red thing covering his arm. Common sense told him it should've been made of metal but the brunet knew it wasn't the case. Round, solid mounds protected his elbow and a sharp divide at the wrist left it uncovered and mobile. It moved along with his arm whenever he willed it to and he didn't know why expected anything different.

A Sacred Gear. His Sacred Gear. It felt far too comfortable. Warm to the touch, too, and that was one reason he was convinced it wasn't just metal. No, it was more… organic. Smooth, even.

It felt like his own flesh and blood never mind its shape. It wasn't hard to envision, considering the feeling it transmitted and its crimson color.

A closer look and a dive into his memories supplied him an appropriate description for it. Issei thought it reminded him of amber, though sporting dark and red tones instead. An even closer look helped him realize he could see through it, though it wasn't his forearm on display. Streaks like black veins ran beneath the surface of his Sacred Gear and he hoped it literally wasn't his blood running through them.

Blood… Issei'd seen enough of it to fell ill for a couple of years. It was a grizzly reminder of impossible odds, of dead ends, and of how utterly easy it was to bleed and die or kill.

Issei felt a sting in his stomach. Then that sting travelled up his chest and he felt it tightening, pressing down on his lungs.

"Focus, Issei. Your Sacred Gear is losing cohesion."

The brunet perked up. His master's cordial voice brought him out of his musings. He looked down just on time to see the crimson gauntlet enveloping his hand waver, quivering out of its solid shape like water in a pond where he'd just thrown a rock.

The brunet's face contorted as he quickly regained his bearings. The idea of his Sacred Gear came up in his mind and he did his best not to let it go, picturing it in all its glory, raw to the touch and red like his insid – no, no, red like Pres' hair, yes.

"S-Sorry, sorry. I saw a pretty red butterfly and got distracted, haha…"

"It's fine. Do try and concentrate, please," she answered with a level tone. She still wasn't looking at him. "I'm not done quite done here."

Issei groaned another halfhearted response and threw his head back with a huff. He vaguely felt like a restless child again, held in place by his mother who was more preoccupied with the undone buttons of his uniform or the dirt on his shoes than any impatience of his. Rias was slightly older than Issei and then his feelings of frustration returned with a cringe thanks to the mental image.

"Fascinating…" murmured Rias as she probed the ancestral weapon with abandon. "Low tier Sacred Gears seldom possess such a distinctive physical form. It's also commendable you can maintain its appearance with relatively little effort. May this indicate a strong sense of self or…?"

Issei had noticed a little habit of Rias during the few weeks he'd been working for her. She was a centered kind of person, orderly and ready to sort out matters with the swiftness of a veteran businesswoman on schedule. Few details went under her radar and those deserved special attention, as she always executed operations with upmost care, planning and preparing until she could estimate the exact number of times she'd blink in one day.

Well, no,maybe she didn't plan that far ahead. But it was a good illustration of her one minuscule defect.

Rias Gremory. A model student, the model student, practically the face of Kuoh Academy, with impossibly exquisite looks and unseen talents to top them off. She was athletic as she was intelligent, having led the school's volleyball team to victory numerous times in the past while earning her place amongst the top ten students with the highest grades, trailing behind the student council president, who was crazy smart, and Ayame himself, who literally had nothing better to do besides studying.

A person like her didn't rise to the top without some serious commitment. She must have taken extra care to balance school life with her devil responsibilities and still come out winning as she did.

She and Akeno were similar in the sense that people knew and admired them just for their looks. They were beautiful women, two of the most beautiful women Issei had ever seen in his life, but they were so much more than pretty faces. That was the problem, though.

Rias was beautiful, smart, athletic, caring, and whatever else. She was a dedicated and realized woman too. She was…

"This green jewel on top of the hand is tremendously interesting too. The manuals often described a spiritual nexus in Sacred Gear users, a seam from where anima flows in greater amount to sustain the functioning of the artifact. I guessed this spot should feel substantially more energetic compared to the rest of the gauntlet, but it's as if anima is evenly distributed and tightly bonded all throughout. Incredible."

…She was pretty fucking pedantic too.

Sometimes it was cute. Issei positively swooned whenever his master got interested in anything, so interested that she became detached from reality just so she could direct all her brainpower into deciphering whatever had stolen her attention. She put on some supremely adorable faces she couldn't care to disguise and he enjoyed every second of them.

In other times, it was… annoying. Times like now. Issei was also feeling irritable and it didn't help that he was in the dark, absolutely lost and confused as to what this woman was saying.

Rias was absorbed in her task. Issei was certain that he'd only get her attention by wrenching his arm away. Of course, in a bad mood as he was, he felt a bit naughty. Plus, he wanted to test something.

"I…" trailed off Issei, indecisive, but he steeled himself and forced the words out. "…I think your eyes are like two beautiful emeralds, Pres. They real nice. I get lost in them every time I look at you."

"You could say this emerald is beautiful, yes. I don't believe any rare ore on earth could compare to the beauty of a holy artifact manifested. Even then, its true purpose isn't that of a fancy decoration meant to dazzle. This is a bona fide weapon. As weak as it may be now… you'll definitely grow into it and it with you."

Issei felt a twitchy smile on his face. Maybe he could push his luck a bit further.

"I also love yer hair. 'S the most beautiful I've ever seen in mine life, honest, and that crimson color do makes my heart go boom boom and such. Look like it'd feel soft to the touch too."

"Of course, it's really rare for a Sacred Gear to sport such a vivid tone. Crimson. Let it be said color is rather important to distinguish and categorize the quality of magical energy. It's not something you can just change or influence, it's innate to your person, a reflection of your mind in its rawest unadulterated form. It's also useful to distinguish your affinities and strengths. Plus, yes, this Twice Critical feels rather soft… it's not made of any material known to man after all. It's your soul, Ise, and dare I say from a first impression your soul seems… warm. Gentle. I like it."

Okay, no. No, no, no, no, no. No.

That was a low blow. An underhanded tactic. A nefarious stratagem.

Rias Gremory was not smoother than Issei with her mind in the clouds. It just could not be. How could she pull such an awesome pickup line without even meaning to?

This ain't fair, man, whined Issei inside his head. Here I am tryna get angry with her and she's so freaking cute. Be still my stupid heart!

His heart did not, in fact, remain still. Neither did Rias stop being cute as a button and his cheeks reddened like the gauntlet stealing her attention away, like the hair of the woman making him go stupid.

Okay, okay, this had to stop. He wasn't such a puppy that he needed her approval like plants needed the sun. No sir, he didn't. Issei already committed himself not to fall for another woman so damn easily.

He liked her but… he didn't like like her. Not like in the way someone reaaaally liked another person. He… respected her! Yeah, respect was the word. No amount of respect deserved so much patience, though, and the brunet was all out of it. He had to keep at it, keep her at a distance like she did with him. Besides, she still wasn't looking at him…

Issei loaded one last bullet in his metaphorical revolver. He aimed at Rias' disregard, ready to shoot it down for good.

Here goes nothing…

"Yougotreallynicetitspres."

.

.

.

Yep. He was dead. Absolutely and utterly dead.

His dick had gotten the better of him and now he'd pay dearly for it. It was incredible, how much of his life he could see in that fraction of a second where logic finally returned and he regretted everything so much.

The brunet closed his eyes. He spared a few words of gratitude meant for his parents in his mind, and fewer, more begrudging words for Ayame.

"These are some nice bits indeed, Ise," replied Rias absentmindedly. "Look at the way the gauntlet juts out here and here… small and sharp. These sections look like segments, like scales of some sort. Doesn't it remind of you of the skin of a reptile?"

…I give up. I can't get angry atcha, Pres.

He really couldn't. Now he felt guilty for disrespecting her like that, too. Great.

However, against all expectations, Rias did let go of his hand seconds later. She did so gently, careful not to let Issei pull away too quickly and fall.

The club president crossed her arms. She looked up at Issei and smile one those devilishly bright smiles of hers. Her wild red hair made a stark contrast against the gentle look on her face.

"Thank you for your efforts, Ise," she said gingerly. "I know it must've been hard summoning your Sacred Gear. I wasn't wrong when I said your emotions made you a good devil candidate… but I also commend you for trying. Nobody without previous magic training could progress as smoothly as you did. You have a lot of potential and a lot of grit to back it up."

Then, Issei felt even guiltier. He would've punched himself if Rias wasn't in front of him.

"Anyway, your Sacred Gear. It is certainly noteworthy if a bit… unpolished."

"So, huh… a diamond in the rough?" asked Issei with a hopeful grin. He was kind of hungry for praise and wanted to think of something else, quickly.

"…Only if we're particularly generous with the appraisal."

Rias' subsequent answer unfortunately counted as an 'ouchie'. At least it helped him distract himself.

A cute little giggle distracted him even more. Issei stared at Rias as she hid her mouth behind a hand, eyeing him with humor.

"No need to pull a disappointed face like that, Ise. Even if your achievements aren't showy or magic-like yet, I'm not sugarcoating them either. Look down at your arm. What do you see?"

Issei did as told. His crimson gauntlet was still there, enveloping the arm he'd let go limp at his side.

"Uhhh… a big-ass, freaky red gauntlet?" he replied. The obvious answer seemed enough to satisfy Rias. She nodded excitedly, gesturing at the gauntlet with one hand.

"Exactly. We're having a conversation and your Sacred Gear is still around your arm. Think about it, Ise! Little by little, it becomes like second nature. You don't even have to think about it anymore to manifest it! Isn't that just awesome?"

The brunet felt he and his boss had wildly different ideas about what 'awesome' meant. True, all this business was incredible, but his Sacred Gear felt freakier than awesome if he was honest.

Still, a praise was a praise and Rias was cute. He could roll with it.

"Yeah, I'm kinda beginning to see it, Pres."

"Good!" she said with clap of her hands. "Now, leaving your progress aside, let's talk about the order of the day. Koneko and Kiba are dealing with their contracts as expected. Akeno is nowhere to be found… I'll deal with her later. As for you, Ise, hmm…"

"Yeah?"

Rias seemed deep in thought for a moment. Afterwards, she shrugged her shoulders and huffed.

"…Well, you know what? Even if your performance with contracts has been less than stellar, you've definitely made up for it with your Sacred Gear for now. I'll devise others ways in which we can harness your talents. In the meantime, why don't you take a day off?"

Issei barely contained the urge to jump in joy.

"R-Really? I mean, I ain't complainin' but it's just so… uhmm… sudden."

Sudden or not, he liked the idea. Biking from one corner of Kuoh to another got tiring after the first day. His legs were kind of hurting from pedaling so much, too, and some time off wouldn't have been bad. Issei just wanted to lay down, maybe sleep all day, watch some birds… and women. Definitely watch a couple of sexy ladies.

"Oh, just accept the reward, you," giggled Rias. "Ah, this reminds me of something. It has come to my attention your grades are going down a slippery slope these days. I take education very seriously and I won't allow my servants' future in human society take the brunt of bad academic performance. If you don't feel like resting, I could probably tutor you for a couple of the harder subj-"

"No I'm okay thank you very much Pres!" Issei countered immediately.

As enticing as private lessons with the Rias Gremory sounded, he didn't want to work or study. Not right now. Not today.

The redhead took his negative response in good stride and nodded. "What are you waiting for then, dummy? Go out there and get some sun. You'll end up a vampire like Hyoudou-san, otherwise."

And go out there he did, with a little jump to his step. He spared a few parting words for Rias before practically sprinting throughout school and then out of it, feeling alive and freer than ever before.

Soon enough, though, as Issei ran across streets and dodged people, he began to feel the crushing weight of choice. A day off could seem long, with enough time to do as he wanted, but Issei knew it wasn't the case. He also knew Pres would call him the next day with more work to do and the brunet surely wouldn't say 'no'.

So… what to do?

His older bro instantly came to mind. Ayame, that lazy prick… he'd skipped school again. It took Issei a hellish effort to drag his girlish brother out of his room on a normal day and he'd begun to avoid classes like the plague as of late. No matter his reasons for ditching school, it was unhealthy to stay in his room day-in, day-out.

A devilish plan formed in Issei's mind. If he hurried back home, he could probably catch Ayame jerking off or some shit and snap a picture of it. Oh, that'd be deliciously evil, yes. Issei could also threaten his brother with that dark material and force him out of his cave more often.

There was an even better idea, though. He could sell those pictures to Akeno and make a couple of bucks out of it…

…Nah, he wasn't a bastard like that.

"Okie-do! First, I'm gon bother that dickhead like a fly," murmured Issei with a grin. "And then, I will scout some wild beauties. Hey, maybe I can get Ayame to tag along… not, hehehe. I forgot dude's asexual 'n' all. I'll make him come outta his shell one day, though."

Issei then made up his mind and walked onwards, ready to fulfill his plan.

However, as with most plans, this one wouldn't work out the way it was meant. There was a little shift of priorities, a change of order. Issei himself was not aware of it until it happened. He didn't find his brother at home first. No, he stumbled upon another person on the way.

"S-Scusi! Buona sera, mister… uh, scusi! Tasukete!"

A loud, desperate voice caught Issei's attention and distracted him out of his musings. His ears perked up as he tried to make sense of absolute gibberish spoken in quick succession and a bit of butchered Japanese thrown in the mix.

"Sumimasen? Scusi me! Parla English? E-Eigo?"

The brunet cringed at the strange, alien speech, a bit of which he could understand, weirdly enough. He looked around and, in a few seconds, found the culprit further down the street.

A girl frantically ran from one pedestrian to another. She waved her arms wildly, gesturing with hands and fingers as everyone passed by her, not even sparing her a single glance. When desperation took over and people kept ignoring her, she spoke more of that gibberish from before without success.

Issei gulped and a feeling of guilt squeezed his heart. The girl was obviously a foreigner and she didn't know the first thing about Japanese. He wanted to believe the townspeople of Kuoh were just extremely shy because there was no excuse to ignore someone in need, especially not someone who seemed so lost and desperate.

He didn't need to think too much about it. Ayame could wait. Where would he go besides home, anyway? Besides, Issei could easily give his mother a phone call and then let the police help this girl. He was the perfect man for the job.

Issei stepped forward. He puffed his chest out and pulled his most charming smile in a strangely faithful impression of Kiba. He might or might not also have practiced the blond's mannerisms in front of a mirror in an attempt to decipher his nefarious tricks. The brunet knew practically everything about how to approach a woman without being lynched, at this point.

"Good afternoon, m'lady. What seems to be troubling ye so terribl- gwah-!"

"Kya!"

A truck crashed against Issei. A miniature truck in the shape of a young girl, to be specific. She didn't see him as he approached and Issei was not exactly prepared for her to impact against him in her desperation. His suave greeting was cut short in consequence.

Small or not, the impact was sudden enough to push the air out of his lungs. He braced himself just in time to stay standing. The girl couldn't find stability and fell to the ground.

"Guh… H-Hey. Sorry for standing in your way. Didn't expect ya to go torpedo into my chest," gasped Issei as he slowly regained the air he lost. "Ya okay?"

The brunet offered a hand. The squirming girl took it immediately and nearly yanked Issei down with her. The teen held his ground and let her find her own footing.

"Y-Yes, I'm okay… just a bit dizzy," she replied in a quick mumble as she struggled to get up. "I… I should be sorry for running into you. I was feeling a bit anxious since nobody understands me. I can't speak Japanese really well, so… wait. Wait a second!"

And just as quickly as she crashed against him, she was up on her feet again. She yanked Issei towards her yet again. Then, they were finally looking face to face.

Issei's brain stopped functioning.

It was a girl. He had gathered that much from afar. However, he had not realized how incredibly beautiful this girl was until the fact slapped him on the face or, more accurately, punched him square in the trachea. Air left his lungs again and he was sure he'd recovered from the last collision in time.

Big eyes like shining emeralds bore into him with hope and relief. They reminded him of another red-haired woman, but whereas hers sported a serious, calculating look, these were all the opposite. They were innocent. They were warm.

Warm. That word got stuck inside his mind as he gazed over the long golden locks flowing over the girl's green dress. The colors took him back to childhood trips throughout forests during spring afternoons. Even if the faraway details evaded him, Issei clearly remembered the sun gently kissing his skin with light, the fresh air under towering trees that made him shiver and relax into deep sleeps.

Bright hair like sunlight. A dress like the healthy leaves of a tree. He couldn't help smiling as the image evoked comfortable memories, peaceful feelings.

His mind refocused on the girl. She was young, around his same age, and significantly smaller than Issei. The small button nose and the cute tiny lips on her face helped cement the idea of fragility

Then, he realized two things that went over his head in his confusion and stupor.

The girl had a long white veil covering the gold of her head.

As his sight travelled downwards, he noticed it, as well. A sight he knew about all too well. A sight he saw at home ever since he was a child, on walls, on books, and hanging from people's necks too. A sight that now hurt him.

A silver cross.

Issei couldn't really suffer the sudden pain that pierced through his skull. The girl inched closer to his face and he inched away in response, self-conscious.

"You!" said the girl with a hopeful smile, practically on his face.

"Uhh… me?" responded the brunet after a few seconds.

"You!"

"M-Me!"

Issei thought he'd finally gotten the hang of this bizarre interaction. At least he did, until the girl dropped the monosyllabic responses in favor of a weirder, impossible statement.

"You can speak Italian!"

The brunet was left reeling. Yes, he could've done the sensible thing and deny his multilingual capabilities. He didn't want to lead the girl on. However, she seemed positively relieved and he did want to help her, whatever the problem could be.

The brunet called upon all his accumulated knowledge of western tongues. Then, with the entirety of his brainpower, he delivered a greeting that could've put polyglots all over the world to absolute shame.

"Eh… Oui, oui. Buenas noches. Yo llamarme Issei."

The girl instantly jumped in joy upon hearing his exquisite use of foreign languages.

As for Issei, well, he was completely and absolutely lost now. He wasn't sure how that made any sense but the girl bought it anyway. She was kind of cute jumping like that, so… win-win situation. The brunet had apparently become a master of languages overnight, too, and he wasn't about to complain if it enabled him to assist someone in need.

"Hahaha! This is wonderful!" said the girl, gleeful. "I had given up on hope too soon. The Lord has sent a good Samaritan my way."

Issei winced in pain at the mention of 'Lord'. He disguised it behind a trembling, confused smile.

"I'm… I'm sorry for ramming into you, too… Nobody in this town speaks Italian so I felt a bit desperate back there," admitted the girl with a sigh. "My Japanese is pretty basic and my English isn't any better, so I was at a loss. I didn't expect to find someone who speaks my mother tongue so fluidly, though!"

The blonde squeezed Issei's hand between hers. A moment elapsed and she gasped, head dropping in an ashamed gesture.

"Ah… S-Sorry. Sorry for coming out so strongly. I was excited, hahaha… it's been a while since I had a conversation with anyone. People usually walk past me."

"T-That's okay, miss," assured Issei as he regained his bearings. "I'd be losing my marbles if I got dropped in the middle of Rome, too. Dontcha worry."

She beamed at him. Issei mentally patted himself on the back, glad to possess his charming aura and charismatic personality.

"You said your name was… Issei? Am I pronouncing it correctly?" continued the girl thoughtfully.

The brunet nodded confidently. The blonde then nodded to herself in apparent satisfaction.

"Issei… it's short and memorable. It's a strong name. A warm name…"

She finally let go of his hand. The brunet instantly missed the physical contact. He stopped minding seconds later, when that nervous, desperate train wreck of a girl nobody helped dedicated him a well-mannered curtsy.

Another smile made its way onto her face. As Issei looked at her and that peaceful expression, devoid of fear and desperation, he instinctively knew he made the right choice by helping her.

"...My name is Asia. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Issei-san."

---

- ~Author's Note~ -

Heya! The angel on your shoulder is back with a new chap. :D

I know, a few months of waiting is still irritating, even if it's better compared to a couple of years. College this year has been absolutely brutal and there were points in time when I had to devote myself to it entirely or risk serious failure. I considered dropping out more than once and, well, stress and anxiety don't aid in the writing process, so I guess you can imagine why you didn't hear much from me.

Rest assured I never stopped working on my stories. I also took my sweet time writing because I posted new stories for different fandoms. I'm sure you can understand it gets a bit boring to work on a single project all the time, so I really needed that creative break. And now I'm back!

Asia finally appears! And the neighborhood's friendly nun Spider-Ichika makes a comeback. Isn't it kinda silly the two brothers meet holy women on the same day?

Anyway, Asia is one of my favorite characters of DxD and I hope I can do her justice here. I hope you enjoyed her short interaction with Lady Killer et Multilingual Devil Issei. XD

We're steadily moving towards the climax of the first arc, now. I'm aware it's a relatively slow progress, but I'll never sacrifice long-winded payoffs for easy kicks of dopamine. Many of you must also have some good guesses as to what'll happen and how it'll happen during that fight... but I'm sure I'll surprise you and rock your world anyway. I won't say more than that. The story should speak for itself. ;)

As for magic? You're getting moar of that bitch soon. I don't want to rush because when I really do dive into it, the plot will gain crazy momentum and there won't be times to let the characters relax. That's why I want to lay the groundwork and blast off only when I know I can focus on the conflict. To give you a more concise expectation, next chapter is the last 'calm' chapter. Everything else after that is free game, so enjoy the peace while it lasts.

Wait for the next chap with bated breath! I'm more or less done with school for this year, so next update could come faster. As always, I don't make promises, so please don't be too hard on this author when he takes too long.

Aaaaaalso, just to make something clear. I never abandon stories. When I decide I can't work on a story anymore, I simply delete it. If you see I take too much time updating, don't fret too much; I'm just either busy or dead. XD

That's all for today. If you have time and energy, please share your thoughts in a review! I love reading what you guys think and your opinions help me improve immensely. Don't be shy now. Me no bitey much. ;D

See you next time!

(15/10/2023)