Morning illuminated Kyoto with soft golden light. Sparrows began to chirp on the branches of cherry blossom trees, and the orange glow on the eastern horizon slowly turned into bright blue.
Tobio lay on the futon in the same position as the night before. The light blue blanket still covered his chest, the black jacket still folded over his eyes.
His chest rose and fell slowly—steady, stable, like a machine ticking without end. But there were no other movements. No twitching in his fingers. No eye movement beneath closed lids.
Xenovia had been awake for an hour. She had bathed, put on her neat white robe, and brushed her long blue hair until no tangles remained. Before leaving, she stopped beside Tobio's futon.
"Wake up. It's morning."
No response.
Xenovia repeated, this time louder. "Tobio. Wake up."
Still nothing. She shook Tobio's shoulder gently—then harder. The boy's body moved with the shaking, but there were no signs of consciousness. His eyes didn't open. His mouth didn't murmur. His breathing remained steady, like someone sleeping very deeply.
'This is strange,' thought Xenovia.
But as an Exorcist accustomed to strange things, she didn't panic. She stood up, straightened her robe, and walked out of the room without looking back.
---
A youkai servant in human form led Xenovia through winding wooden hallways, past small gardens with stones and moss, until they reached the shrine's main dining room.
The room was spacious, with large windows facing the garden. Morning sunlight filtered through thin paper, creating patterns of light on the tatami floor. In the center of the room, a low table had been prepared with plates of rice, miso soup, grilled fish, rolled omelet, and boiled vegetables.
Yasaka was already seated at the head of the table. Her blonde hair was tied with a simple yellow ribbon, and her yellow-black shrine maiden attire was immaculate.
Beside her, a little girl sat in a very upright position—too upright for a child her age, as if trying hard to be polite.
Her hair was blonde like Yasaka's, but lighter. Her eyes were also golden-yellow, but larger, rounder, with a gleam of innocence that couldn't be faked. She was perhaps four or five years old. She held a small rabbit doll in her lap, her tiny fingers gripping the doll's ears tightly.
Yasaka smiled as she saw Xenovia enter. "This is Kunou. My daughter. She is four years old."
Xenovia nodded and bowed her head slightly—not too deeply, but enough to show respect to the hostess and her child. "Xenovia Quarta. Nice to meet you."
Kunou waved her small hand. Her lips moved as if wanting to say something, but no sound came out. She was still shy, still nervous, not yet used to strangers. Her small face flushed slightly, and she hid behind her rabbit doll.
Xenovia sat in the designated seat. Griselda and Dulio were already there, sitting on the other side of the table in more relaxed positions.
"Tobio isn't awake yet?" asked Griselda, her tone flat.
Xenovia shook her head. "Not yet. I tried to wake him... but he didn't react."
The sentence was simple. But for Griselda and Dulio, those words carried a different weight.
Didn't react?
Not just hard to wake. Didn't react at all.
"How did you try to wake him?" asked Dulio, his usually casual tone now turning serious.
Xenovia answered with facts, as usual. "Touched and shook his body. His breathing is stable. His eyelids are closed, not moving."
Dulio was silent. He turned to Griselda, and they exchanged glances—a glance enough to convey everything.
Last night Tobio said not to wake him.
"If I don't wake up in the morning, just let me be."
They thought it was just the words of a tired person. But he was serious.
"No reaction at all?" Dulio repeated his question, as if not believing it. "We need to check on him now."
Yasaka didn't stand immediately. She still sat gracefully, hands in her lap, face calm. But her eyes—those golden-yellow eyes usually so gentle—were now slightly sharper.
She had felt from the beginning that something was wrong with that boy. The first time she saw him, she sensed a presence that wasn't whole.
Not weak—there's a big difference between weak and not whole. And when Tobio yawned last night, she knew it wasn't ordinary tiredness. Not tiredness from lack of sleep or physical exhaustion.
It was exhaustion from within. Exhaustion seeping from the soul.
Yasaka placed her teac down calmly. The sound of ceramic touching wood was clear in the silent room.
"I will come."
She turned to the side, looking at Kunou who was still hiding behind her rabbit doll. Her voice became softer, like a spring breeze.
"You wait here, dear. Mother will be back shortly."
Kunou nodded slightly, still not speaking.
The four of them walked through the hallway towards Tobio's room. Griselda's footsteps were firm and measured, Dulio beside her with an expression he rarely showed—serious, without a smile. Xenovia walked behind, her eyes moving quickly observing every corner of the hallway, an Exorcist's habit that never died.
And Yasaka at the front, with unhurried graceful steps, like someone who already knew what she would find.
The bedroom door opened. The atmosphere inside was the same as that morning—dark, silent, with thin light from the gap in the still-unopened window.
Tobio still lay on the futon. His position hadn't changed. The light blue blanket still covered his chest, the black jacket still over his eyes. His chest rose and fell slowly, steady, like calm ocean waves in the morning.
'Too steady.'
Griselda knelt beside Tobio. Her trained hands—hands that had healed terrible wounds on battlefields—checked the pulse in the boy's neck. Normal. Body temperature normal. Breathing normal.
But his consciousness... absent.
'Like the first time we found him in the village,' Griselda thought. When he was unconscious with blood on his face. But now it was different. Now he was just... sleeping.
Yasaka stood beside her, not touching Tobio. She didn't need to. Her slender hand extended a few centimeters above the boy's chest, and she closed her eyes.
'Total shutdown,' Yasaka thought. The soul is fully resting. Not a coma, not a faint. This is... recovery. But recovery in an unusual way.
She opened her eyes. "Has this happened before?"
Dulio answered, his voice soft. "Yes. Yesterday he slept for five full days."
Yasaka nodded. Not surprised. "Then don't wake him. Just let him be. His soul is fully resting."
She looked at Tobio's face—the pale face beneath the black jacket. How many times had he pushed himself until his soul needed this kind of rest?
"We wait," said Yasaka. "There's nothing we can do but wait."
---
One Week Later
Tobio woke up slowly.
First, he felt cold air, slightly damp, with a faint scent of wood and incense. Second, he felt his body weak, but not in pain. Like after a very long sleep, where muscles were a little stiff but there was no soreness.
He rubbed his eyes. His eyelids, which had been tightly shut for days, now opened slowly.
He looked around the room.
The futon beside him was empty. The blanket was folded neatly, a sign that Xenovia had been awake for a long time—perhaps hours, perhaps days. The low table in the center of the room was clean, no leftover food or tea cups. Only a green ceramic teapot placed in the corner, with a small piece of paper beside it.
Tobio didn't read the paper. His eyes shifted to the window.
Outside, the sky was still dark—not pitch black like midnight, but dark blue on the eastern horizon beginning to turn purple. The sun hadn't appeared yet. Perhaps around five in the morning.
'How long did I sleep?'
He turned to the wall. A round wooden clock with black hands showed 5:03 AM.
Tobio stood up. His legs felt a little unsteady, but he didn't fall. He walked to the window, opened it. Cold air rushed in—fresh cold that made his lungs feel clean.
He closed the window, then walked to the door. The hallway outside was silent, lit only by dim paper lanterns. A youkai servant stood at the end of the hallway, as if waiting.
"Are you well now?" asked the servant, her voice respectful. "You slept for a full week."
Tobio nodded. Not surprised. "I'm fine."
"Yasaka-sama is waiting in the meeting room. To check your health."
Tobio nodded again, then followed the servant through the hallways he had walked a week ago.
The meeting room was different from the dining room. Smaller, more private, with a small altar in the corner and bronze lanterns with burning flames. Yasaka sat across from the door, in neat shrine maiden attire, her blonde hair loose over her shoulders.
She smiled as Tobio entered. A warm smile, but her eyes—those golden-yellow eyes—remained sharp, still observing.
"Has your body recovered? Any pain?"
Tobio shook his head. "No. Just a little tired after sleeping."
That wasn't entirely a lie. He was indeed tired, but that exhaustion wasn't from lack of sleep. That exhaustion was something that had become his constant companion since the night his grandmother's bracelet broke.
Yasaka looked at him for a moment. "May I examine your body? It seems there is a problem with your soul."
Tobio didn't hesitate. "No problem."
Yasaka stood and approached. Her steps were slow, graceful. Tobio felt slightly nervous as the woman approached—not from fear, but from the distance. A woman as beautiful as Yasaka, with an aura as strong as hers, standing only a few centimeters before him.
But he restrained himself. 'Prioritize your own condition,' he said inwardly.
Yasaka extended her right hand. Her smooth palm touched Tobio's chest—right in the center, where the heart beat. No pressure, only a light touch, like a feather falling on skin.
She closed her eyes.
Soul. On the surface, it looked normal. Intact. Stable. No leakage, no visible structural damage.
But in the center—at the deepest core—there were cracks.
Three cracks.
Not large. Not widening. But there. Like hairline fractures in glass that hasn't shattered, but can't be ignored.
Yasaka had never seen a case like this. Usually, if the soul is damaged, the body becomes unstable—falling ill, losing consciousness, or slowly deteriorating. If the soul is cracked, the body weakens—easily tired, easily sick, difficulty concentrating.
But Tobio? He stood here, speaking calmly, moving like a normal human. Showing none of the expected signs of weakness.
'Intact, but cracked. This shouldn't be able to survive.'
Yasaka withdrew her hand slowly. Her movements were graceful, unhurried. She opened her eyes, looking at Tobio with a gentle smile—a smile trying to hide the concern behind it.
"You're fine. For now."
For now. The unspoken words: But not forever.
Yasaka thought quickly. This condition could worsen at any time. The cracks aren't spreading, not active, just there. This isn't a wound—wounds can heal.
This is a scar. Or a result. Something that happened because Tobio did something, not because something happened to him.
She looked at Tobio's eyes again. Eyes with a small galaxy moving slowly, with a black vertical crack in the pupil that didn't reflect light.
"This isn't something ordinary," said Yasaka, her voice soft but deep. "You touched something that shouldn't be touchable... didn't you?"
Tobio was silent.
That silence itself was the answer.
"Yes," he said finally.
Yasaka wasn't surprised. Her gaze instead grew deeper.
That answer confirmed everything. Those eyes weren't the cause—those eyes were the tool. Or the pathway. And the vertical crack in the pupil... that was a reflection of his soul.
"I see..." Yasaka sighed softly. "You touched something too deep. And your body is still trying to hold it."
She could ask further. Could press. But she knew—a boy like Tobio wouldn't answer if pushed too hard. He would stay silent, or change the subject, or leave.
"You can stand like this," Yasaka continued, "even though something inside you is cracked. How?"
Tobio answered calmly. "Because there's something I have to do. Even if it destroys me."
Yasaka didn't speak immediately. Not because she was confused—she understood the meaning of those words too quickly. This wasn't the answer of a child his age.
This wasn't ambition, not a dream, not an aspiration. This was a decision. A decision already mature, already considered, already accepting the consequences.
'He's not afraid of being destroyed. He's already accepted it.'
Yasaka didn't oppose. People like this can't be forced, can't be stopped with words.
If pressed, they would only pull away—deeper, harder, farther from reach.
"If that's the path you've chosen," said Yasaka, her voice soft but firm, "at least don't rush toward destruction."
She looked into Tobio's eyes—eyes full of stars and cracks.
"Is it something you can't ignore?"
Tobio looked at the ceiling—or more precisely, looked at something beyond the ceiling, something ordinary eyes couldn't see.
"Yes. Something almost all races have forgotten. They're still in conflict with each other to this day. Only the leaders of each race know." He paused. "A sealed creature."
Yasaka didn't move. Not surprised. But her eyes—those golden-yellow eyes—narrowed slightly sharper. She closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them again.
"You realize it." Her voice was soft. "Earlier than you should have."
Tobio knew about that sealed creature. He knew its scale. He knew that creature was a threat that made everything—the war between angels and devils, the intrigues of gods, human ambitions—unimportant.
He considered it a priority.
"Many don't think about it," Yasaka continued. "Because it's easier."
Easier to fight about differences. Easier to hate each other. Easier to drown in small conflicts than to face the reality that there's something out there that could destroy everything.
Yasaka realized something. Tobio didn't choose to ignore that threat, like most people. He took the burden—a burden even the leaders of races were reluctant to carry continuously.
A burden that made him stand here, with a cracked soul, with eyes no longer normal.
She felt concern. More than she should.
"If that's what you're pursuing," said Yasaka, "then I understand why your soul is cracked."
Tobio didn't answer. He just stood there, with eyes that had several lights like stars and a crack.
Then he said, "Is there a hot spring? I haven't bathed. The air feels cold."
Yasaka smiled. A genuine smile, one that made her eyes sparkle.
He had just talked about something heavy. About destruction, about burden, about a sealed creature. And now... back to simple things.
"Of course there is. I'll take you there myself."
---
The hot spring at Yasaka's shrine was no ordinary bath. The pool was made of carefully arranged natural stone, with water slightly cloudy from mineral content.
Thin steam rose from the surface, carrying the scent of sulfur which was actually soothing. Around the pool, bamboo grew densely, creating a natural wall that provided privacy.
Yasaka escorted Tobio to the entrance, then left with a faint smile. "Enjoy," she said, then disappeared behind the sliding door.
Tobio removed his clothes—black jacket, plain shirt, trousers—and folded them neatly in a bamboo basket. He took the small white towel provided, covered his lower body, then stepped to the washing area.
Cold water from a copper dipper poured over his head. He washed his body with simple soap that smelled like oranges, then rinsed clean.
Then he stepped into the pool.
Hot water touched his skin—first stinging, then warm, then comfortable like an embrace. He sat at the edge of the pool, soaking his body up to his neck. Steam rose around him, making his wet hair stick to his forehead.
He looked at the sky.
The sun hadn't appeared yet, but the eastern horizon was already pale orange. Stars began to fade one by one, like lights slowly being turned off. In the distance, the sound of shrine bells rang—soft, rhythmic, like a beating heart.
'Eight years,' Tobio thought. 'Eight years before the plot begins.'
Issei Hyoudou was still small. Rias Gremory was probably still in elementary school. The other heroes of DxD were still living their normal lives, unaware that the supernatural world awaited in the future.
"Eight years. Long enough to prepare. But not long enough if I'm not careful."
He submerged his head briefly in the hot water, then emerged with wetter hair.
"I have to prepare. For the future."