3rd Person POV
[Kuoh Academy - Class 1-C]
The girl bows—a practiced motion that sends her waist-length raven hair cascading over one shoulder. When she straightens, the overhead lights catch the pink glint in her pupils. "Hello everyone, my name is Yuuma Amano" She smiles brightly as she writes her name on the board with perfect calligraphy strokes. "I transferred from Kyoto. Please take care of me!"
The class erupted into a wave of awe seeing the new beautiful girl transferred into their class, it's a privilege that has only been given to class 2-B of Aruto Abyga's group, but now class 1-C has their own beauty to admire, though Issei doesn't share the same enthusiasm, the experience with Nami made him kind of.....guarded against beautiful women.
"Yuuma-san, please take your seat at Issei's side" Riku-sensei gestures towards the empty desk next to Issei, who stiffens as Yuuma glides past him—her uniform skirt swaying. Her scent—vanilla and something like rose—lingers as she settles into the chair with eerie grace.
"Nice to meet you, Hyoudou-san," she murmurs, folding her hands atop the desk. Issei forces a nod. "Yeah. Welcome." Behind them, Matsuda and Motohama seems to have accepted what Issei received like an compensation for what he has been through.
When Riku-sensei turns to write on the board, Yuuma's pink-glinting eyes fix on Issei's left hand—specifically, and out of nowhere, she asks "Will you take me around the campus after school?" A sudden hammer slams into the distance between them as Issei turns his head to the new girl sitting next to him "Me?" Issei points at himself
'What the hell does she want with me?' He thinks to himself, the memories with Nami are resurfacing, what she made him say, the recorder, the papers, the court.....they are spiralling in his mind like a hurricane, screaming at him to be cautious..."Yes, because...well, I saw you helping the elderly people at the nursing home the other day, and I think you'd know the school best." She explains while tilting her head—a gesture too innocent for the razor-sharp stillness in her shoulders.
Issei exhales. That...actually made sense. He'd been volunteering at the nursing home near campus every Thursday for the past month. But something still prickled at the back of his neck—the way her fingers curled around the edge of her desk, like claws testing leather. "Sure, I guess. But I've got cleanup duty after lunch. Library shelves."
Yuuma's smile doesn't waver. "That's perfect. I love libraries." then she turns back to the board where the teacher is teaching. Exhaling heavily, Issei calms himself down, 'It's just a walk around school, nothing special, nothing scandalous....nothing at all, just be careful with what you said, simple' he thought.
The lesson went on as normal, but Issei couldn't help but glance at Yuuma from time to time, she was....perfect, her handwriting is neat, her uniform is pristine, she sits perfectly straight—like a porcelain doll propped up by invisible strings. Even her occasional nods to the teacher's lecture are timed with mechanical precision.
[Timeskip: Brought to you by Issei keeping himself on high alert against other girls]
When the bell rings, the class ends with Issei releasing the tension in his mind with a long exhale like he has been holding his breath the entire lesson, keeping his eyes away from Yuuma, storing his books away, he prepares for the next lesson, only now he allows himself to look around, and he found Yuuma is being surrounded by other girls.
"Welcome to Kuoh Academy, Amano-chan." A girl said cheerfully, and the newcomer replies with no less joy "Thank you all for having me, everyone is so friendly here" Another one chimes in "Our school has so much interesting stuff, we'll show you after school."
"Really?" Yuuma asks "Then I've gotten a lot of things to see, right, Issei-kun?" she turns him, making other girls shift their attention as well, but instead of the joyous attitude of Yuuma, the girls are quite....concerned "Are you sure you want him to be your tour guide, Amano-chan?" A girl asks in disbelief.
"He has something of....bad reputation around girls" Another sends a clear warning, but it doesn't seem to faze the raven-haired beauty "I haven't seen any problem with the entire lesson, he has always been vigilant, composed and focused on the lesson. Not to mention, he was a great helper at the nursing home, even my grandma had compliments on him about sincerity and dedication"
Surprise wasn't enough to describe the emotions of the girls when Yuuma mentioned Issei's secret feats at the nursing home, especially since the Hyoudou boy had never once bragged about them—unlike how he would've before the incident. Their skeptical glances lingered on him, but Yuuma's unwavering endorsement forced them to reconsider. "Well...if you say so," murmured one, though her fingers tightened around her textbook.
The second period began without fanfare—physics, taught by a balding man whose monotone voice could put insomniacs to sleep. Issei kept his head down, scribbling notes robotically while hyperaware of Yuuma's presence beside him. Her pen never stopped moving, but her posture remained unnervingly still—like a mannequin rigged with clockwork precision. Halfway through the lecture, she slid a folded note onto his desk.
Issei hesitated before unfolding it. "You grip your pen like it's a weapon," the note read in flawless kanji. "Relax. I don't bite."
His fingers twitched. Something about the way the ink gleamed under the fluorescent lights made his stomach clench. He scribbled back: "Not unless asked?" and instantly regretted it. Old habits died hard.
Yuuma's shoulders shook—tiny giggles escaping her lips like wind chimes. She wrote back swiftly: "Only if you're into that."
Issei nearly choked on air. The pen slipped from his fingers, clattering against the desk loud enough to draw glares from Matsuda and Motohama one row back. Yuuma didn't react beyond a slow blink—her pink-tinted eyes tracking the pen's roll toward the edge of the desk before catching it effortlessly with one hand. She placed it back in front of him with deliberate care, her fingers lingering just a heartbeat too long.
The physics droned on, but Issei's pulse hammered in his ears. He risked another glance at Yuuma—her profile serene, lips faintly curved—and something cold slithered down his spine. 'Caution, she is dangerous...'
[Timeskip: Brought to you by chibi Arto sniffing chibi Akeno]
The bell rings again, it's time for lunch, Issei quickly stands up from his seat and heads to the cafeteria where his mother is serving lunch today, he usually goes early to fetch a quick lunch before helping her mother in the cafeteria, something that has become his usual routine to the point the staff of the place got him the employee attire and ID to assist his mother in serving lunch to his fellow students, it's a small job with small pay, but it helps him stay away from Matsuda and Motohama, and today he needs to get away from Yuuma.
He arrives at the cafeteria, greeting his mother with a smile "I'm here" he announces, putting on his apron, tying it neatly, his mother smiles "Oh, Issei, welcome, today we have curry bread and..." she continues explaining the menu as Issei nods continuously before fetching a tray and got himself a portion of food, a taste test, also his lunch, sitting near the counter, he digs in while his mother prepares the place for the 'lunch rush', which has been quite a demanding process since his mother joined the staff and Aruto Abyga said that he liked her curry, the line has always been long.
"How does it taste?" Issei's mother Miki asks him eagerly as he chews the curry bread—her newest recipe tweak. The spices hit his tongue in layered waves, richer than last week's batch. He gives a thumbs-up through a mouthful, making her beam. His mother smiles, patting his head "Then enjoy it, no need to rush, you can join the operation anytime you want, okay?"
The cafeteria doors burst open before he can reply. The usual line is forming as they approach the counters where the lunch is served, mostly students, and some teachers as well who wanted to enjoy their lunch with students.
Issei quickly swallows the last bites before standing up, wiping his mouth, putting on a face-mask before joining the lunch rush—his mother's curry bread has always been popular, but ever since Aruto's endorsement, the line wraps around the cafeteria twice before the bell even rings. He takes his place beside his mother, handing out trays with practiced efficiency.
The routine is comforting—the clatter of trays, the murmur of students, the steam rising from the curry pots. Until a familiar vanilla-metal scent cuts through the spices. Doing this doesn't give him much fatigue, but it makes his mind lighter.
He can see himself assisting his mother in facing the consequences of his past action, giving himself a feeling that he too is pulling the weight of his own mistake and is getting better as a person.
Student after student, tray after tray, the line is slowly getting shorter, until he meet a face that has been the topic of the school for almost a year, Aruto Abyga of class 2-B, the golden boy of this school in sport, in studying, in social relationships, in....everything. 'To think that I used to envy him.....' Issei thinks to himself.
'....Do I still? Yes....of the fuck course, he hangs out with Rias-senpai, Akeno-senpai,.....Nami-senpai....good at everything.....' the train of thoughts seem to have slow the time down as he looks at the senpai before him, his and the boys' arch-enemy, the one that they threw parade to celebrate his absence from school, hating him for no reason other than that he is better than them in everything, and that hatred has calm down since the incident, but the feelings are still there
"You need to pull your own weight before envying others' achievements....there is beauty in trying your best and giving your all" He thinks about what Robin-sensei told him when he came to her counsel.
She showed him that in the football match where class 2-B with Aruto being the core player dominated the whole game against 2-A. Yet they pushed on against all odd, against a player that has the talent that makes his team operate on another strategic level, fighting till the end, and for their fans, it was enough, they still cheered for them without disdain, no hatred
He too has been experiencing it with his parents, even if he made such grave mistake that made his family lose their livelihood, his parents pushed forwards, pulling him with them, not giving up on him, and now, he is pushing forward, pulling his own weight, trying his best to give back to his parents—and Robin-sensei was right. There is beauty in that.
The flow of time starts again as Aruto-senpai settles not his tray, but his bento box down, grinning sheepishly "One scoop of curry please" he asks politely, it has been a usual thing in the canteen, Aruto would order a scoop of curry over his rice whenever the dish is available, and always insist to pay the price of one full portion, much to his mother's insistence that it's too much for just a scoop of curry, and the boy would reply with shoving the money into Issei's hand before dodging away
"That boy...." Miki shakes her head as Aruto vanishes into the lunch crowd, the money still in Issei's palm. He pockets them automatically—this dance has become ritual by now.
After a while, the face facing him at the counter is not entirely unexpected, Yuuma Amano is standing before him, maybe she followed the line of students lining up beyond the entrance of the cafeteria door, or some girls recommended her to come here, that's beyond him.
Yuuma tilts her head slightly—a gesture that sends her raven hair swaying like ink spilled in slow motion. "Curry bread, please." She orders gently, with a bit of shyness of a new student arriving at an unfamiliar place. Miki displays her usual hospitality as she serves the girl her portion "You're a new face, sweetheart, transfer student?" she asks quickly as Yuuma pays for her meal.
"Yes, I'm Yuuma Amano. I just transferred into class 1-C today," Yuuma replies, accepting the tray with both hands—her fingers barely brushing Miki's. "I heard the curry here is famous." Miki beams, "You'll love it dear, have a nice meal!" Yuuma nods before moving away from the line, her gaze lingers a little longer on Issei, who is wearing the face mask, but said nothing before moving on.
"She your new classmate, Issei?" Miki asks after Yuuma left, her hand has turned automatic as she serves another meal without looking at the tray. Issei exhales through his nose—his mother's radar for girl-related tension hasn't dulled despite everything. "Yeah," he mutters, adjusting his mask. "Just transferred today."
Miki hums—a sound that used to precede lectures about respecting women—but now carries something softer. "She seems nice."
[Timeskip: Brought to you by the pot of curry running out]
Issei comes back to his class by the end of lunch time after helping the kitchen clean up the cafeteria, he stores his staff clothes into his backpack and comes back to class. He sits down next to Yuuma for afternoon lesson, she was looking at him "Don't say anything, Amano" he whispers, knowing the curry smell is reeking on his uniform
"What? You expect me to look down on you for doing what you did? No, I even respect you for it" Yuuma's whisper as he settles down his seat next to her. Her lips barely move, yet the words carry perfectly to Issei's ears alone. "Do people look down on you for doing this? Why are you so reserved about your own contribution?
Issei's fingers tighten around his pen. The classroom chatter fades into white noise as Yuuma's question needles under his skin. He risks a glance—her profile is serene, but the overhead lights catch the stillness of her pupils. Pink glints like frozen blood.
"It's not about respect," he mutters, erasing a phantom smudge from his notebook. "Just...don't mention it to anyone."
Yuuma's smile doesn't reach her eyes. "I mean....everyone has to one way or another notice your second duty when coming to school. It's just they couldn't look past your old reputation to admit you're a better person now." She taps her pen against her notebook—each click precisely spaced, like a metronome, her eyes never left his. "I wonder what it would take for them to see you change."
"I don't know, but I am trying," Issei smiles forcefully, taking his books out for the afternoon lesson—calculus, his worst subject—while Yuuma's pen continues its mechanical tapping. The sound syncs with the clock's second hand until the teacher enters, bringing merciful silence.
Halfway through the quadratic equations, Yuuma slides another note onto his desk: "You're lying." Issei grips his pen tighter. He scribbles back: "About what?" Her reply comes before the ink dries: "That you don't care if they notice."
"Stop it, let me study" The note crumpled between Issei's fingers as Yuuma's pink-glinting eyes tracked the motion with detached fascination. The lesson goes on normally until the teacher turns towards the class and asks "That's all the mistakes spotted in your final exam, do you have any other questions?"
The classroom remains silent—the teacher sighs "Well, I hope you don't make such mistakes again next school year, the scores have been handed to you, so you should know where you are and what to do from here to improve yourselves, now, you're free to do what you want, it's only a few weeks left before the school year is concluded and there aren't much left for me to teach you"
Issei exhaled, stretching his arms behind his head. The tension in his shoulders eased—just a few more weeks. He could survive that. Beside him, Yuuma folded her hands neatly atop her desk, smiling like her usual grace.
"Remember our promise, Issei" she whispers "You have to show me around after school, I am eager to know what this place has to offer"
The final bell rings with the weight of inevitability. Issei exhales through his nose—his fingers twitching against the strap of his bag. He could make an excuse. Volunteer for extra cleaning duty. Fake an illness. But Yuuma's pink-glinting eyes pin him in place like a butterfly under glass.
"You ready?" Her voice is honeyed steel as she stands—her skirt swaying precisely five centimeters with the motion.
Issei nods, shouldering his bag. The walkway to the school gates is crowded with students laughing, shoving, flirting. Yuuma walks half a step ahead, her posture impossibly straight. The late afternoon sun catches the gleam of her hair—black, smooth, like oil spilled over marble.
"You ready?" Her voice is honeyed steel as she stands—her skirt swaying precisely five centimeters with the motion.
Issei nods, shouldering his bag. The walkway to the school gates is crowded with students laughing, shoving, flirting. Yuuma walks half a step ahead, her posture impossibly straight. "So." She stops abruptly at the courtyard fountain. "Where first?"
Issei thinks for a moment before answering "Let's start with the current building we are in" He gestures down "You see, this large building is divided by class, first year like us study on the first floor, second on second and third on third"
He starts walking, Yuuma quickly follows on his left side, attending his explanation "Each floor has a leaderboard, where the top 20 students with the highest studying results are displayed in GPA with their prestigious scores, updated after each major test"
Issei points toward the first-floor notice board—its laminated rankings shimmering under fluorescent lights. "I'm not up there among the 20 stars of first year, of course, but Robin-sensei's tutoring got me from bottom percentile to mid-tier in history. That's...something."
Yuuma's gaze lingers on the list—specifically on Kiba Yuuto's name, first place in first year leaderboard "Kiba Yuuto is the blond Prince, right? I saw a bunch of students fangirling over him earlier, and this one too....Aruto Abyga, who is he?
Issei's jaw tightens. The name alone sends phantom pains through his knuckles—reminders of fists slammed against lockers in futile rage. "Senpai. Class 2-B." His voice comes out flatter than intended. "Golden boy. Football team calls him Regista. Top scorer in nationals."
Yuuma tilts her head—just slightly—like a bird considering prey. "You sound bitter." Issei shrugs with a bitter smile "How could I not? He is good at everything, look, studying, sport, social relations,...he is considered the arch-enemy of male students from the moment he came to this school"
Yuuma's answering hum "Yet you don't hate him." It isn't a question. Issei's fingers twitch toward his pocket where Aruto's lunch coins still sit. "No, he is polite, generous and kind, it's hard to hate him, seriously, I can't find anything that I can hate about him other than he is too good for our good, and I think it's just envy speaking inside me"
Yuuma's lips curve, a gentle smile "And despite all the gap, you still push forward?" He nods "Well, my history teacher taught me everything happens for a reason, and if someone is that genius, he has his own weight to bear, expectations to fulfill and of course, a past that led him to this point, that's the whole reason for history. Learning that made me realized that I've stopped moving to compare myself to him"
Yuuma's fingers brush against the leaderboard's edge—her nail clicking against the laminate with surgical precision. "Interesting philosophy." Her voice drops to a whisper, though the courtyard is empty save for scattered students heading home. "Tell me, Issei-kun—do you think you'll one day catch up to him?"
Issei exhales through his nose—the scent of cherry blossoms mingling with something metallic beneath Yuuma's vanilla perfume. "No, I don't think I will. I learned from Robin-sensei that genius can be caught up by effort, but when that genius became hardworking, it's impossible to catch them in the fields they are specialized in. The gap between us is too large."
His eyes darted towards the sky, exhaling like an acceptance "But I learned that I don't have to surpass him in everything to have value, he can care about the big and grand problems, while I am here, giving my all so that I can be a better person that my parents can be proud of and not to worry about me anymore...."
Yuuma's head tilts just a little, gazing him with curiosity 'He is not like what people talked about him' Yuuma thinks to herself, still listening to Issei's explanation as he leads her to the next destination, the library "This is the library, the place I usually go to cram myself for exams, or studying with Robin-sen—Robin-sensei"
Yuuma blinks slowly—her lashes casting spider-leg shadows across her cheekbones. "Robin-sensei?" The name rolls off her tongue with precision, as if tasting each syllable. "Who is that? You've been mentioning her a lot"
Issei rubs the back of his neck, suddenly conscious of how often he comes here to ask her for help with history lessons, and other subjects as well because she was an expert in...almost everything she touches "She is teacher I like the most in this school, probably the best teacher this place has, she is kind, gentle, understanding, and....scary when she needs to be" he says with a chuckle "She helped me a lot, taught me a lot, including how to look at things from multiple perspectives, that's how I began thinking differently about Aruto-senpai"
Yuuma's pink eyes flicker toward the library entrance—where a group of third-years whisper behind their hands at the sight of them. "A teacher who teaches beyond textbooks," she murmurs, fingertips grazing the doorframe. "Rare." The way she says it makes Issei's skin prickle—like she's filing the information away somewhere sharp.
Inside, the library smells of old paper and lemon-scented polish. Issei leads Yuuma past study carrels where upperclassmen hunch over cram sheets. "Robin-sensei usually sits there," he points to a corner table near the philosophy section, currently empty. "Every Tuesday and Thursday after classes....and I usually sit with her."
Yuuma trails a finger along the bookshelf—her touch lingering on a worn spine titled Comparative Mythologies of the Pacific. "Does she teach history?" The question is casual, but her nail digs into the book's edge just slightly.
"Yes" Issei shrugs. "But she knows...everything." He catches himself before mentioning the uncanny way Robin once dismantled his excuses about skipped homework by citing his exact gaming schedule. Yuuma plucks the book from the shelf with surgical precision. "Everything?" Her lips curve as she flips to a dog-eared page on Shinto-Buddhist syncretism. "How convenient."
Issei nods "Yeah, too bad you haven't gotten a chance to meet her, she has been absence from school for a week now, an oversea business trip as it was rumors" Yuuma's fingers still on the book's page—her nail catching the paper just enough to threaten a tear. "Overseas?" That silken voice drops half an octave. "How...unfortunate. Is she a teacher out of passion?"
"Maybe,..." Issei chuckles "because a woman of such beauty, talent and personality...being just a teacher is a waste" Hearing that, Yuuma's eyes get playful as she leans closer to Issei, looking at him in the eyes "Is that why....you like her?"
Issei jerks back—his elbow knocking a book off the shelf with a thud that echoes through the quiet library. Heat floods his face. "That's—no, I—" The words tangle in his throat as Yuuma's pink eyes glint with amusement.
"What? I was asking if you like her teaching? What did you take that question for? I am not asking if you have a crush on your own teacher" Yuuma laughs quietly—a sound like wind chimes dipped in syrup. She catches the fallen book mid-air without looking, her reflexes unnervingly precise.
Issei rubs his burning neck, bending to pick up the book she already caught. "I—right." He clears his throat. "Yeah, I like her teaching." Yuuma covers her giggling smile with her hand "Sure, sure, of course you do, Issei-kun~" she teases, sliding the book back into its place.
Looking at Yuuma now, Issei tries to avert her teasing gaze because she might have caught his black heart, he turns towards the door "Let's go to the gym next, there are many interesting things you can find there?"
"Is Robin-sensei one of them?" the girl asks again, "Shu...shut up, do you want me to be your tour guide or not?" Yuuma laughs—a sound like glass beads scattering on marble—but follows Issei out of the library without further teasing. The gymnasium looms across the quadrangle, its aluminum siding gleaming under the late afternoon sun.
"The gymnasium is like a sports complex other than just a building, there are football pitch outside, swimming pool and indoor sport field, the equipments are always ready for any sports like badminton or volleyball nets, basketball hoop set, and a dojo at the far side of the complex for kendo club and archery club as well." He explains
Yuuma's footsteps echo behind him—each one perfectly spaced, as if measured. "Impressive," she murmurs, "Say Issei, wanna play something?" Issei pauses mid-step, the gymnasium doors half-open. Yuuma stands too close—her vanilla-rose scent cloying. "Like what?"
Her pink eyes gleam under the fluorescents. "Badminton." The word drops like a scalpel. "Unless you're scared." The challenge hooks under Issei's ribs. He exhales through his nose—Robin-sensei's voice in his head about rising above petty dares—but the gym is empty save for the squeak of sneakers from a distant basketball game. "Fine. One set."
Yuuma's smile stretches—just shy of uncanny valley. She plucks two rackets from the equipment rack with precision, tossing one underhand. Issei catches it awkwardly; the grip is still warm from some phantom player.
[Timeskip: Brought to you by a shuttlecock flying over the net time after time]
The set of badminton ends with a close gap of 21-18, Issei manages to catch up Yuuma's early lead halfway through the match, but her reflexes—sharp, precise—seal his defeat. She barely sweats, her breaths even as she retrieves the shuttlecock from where it's embedded in the gymnasium floor, the cork tip split cleanly down the middle.
"Not bad," Yuuma murmurs, rolling the broken shuttlecock between her fingers. "For someone who doesn't train." Issei wipes his brow with his sleeve—his shirt sticks uncomfortably to his back. "You play professionally?"
Her laugh is a soft chime. "Something like that." Storing the racket away, she comes to Issei "You did well today, let me treat you some drink"
The vending machine hums faintly under the gymnasium's overhang as Yuuma inserts coins with mechanical precision. Issei leans against the brick wall, catching his breath—the condensation from his sports drink trickles down his wrist. Yuuma presses the button for melon soda, the machine whirring as it dispenses the can with a clunk.
"You're stronger than you look," she remarks, popping the tab with a crisp hiss. Her pink eyes track the fizzing bubbles with detached fascination. "Most boys your age crumble after the fifteenth rally."
Issei wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. "My time doing volunteer jobs shoved some training on this limpy frame," he mutters, catching the melon soda Yuuma tosses his way—her throw arcs straight, the can spinning just enough for him to grip it mid-air without spillage.
Her head tilts—raven hair swaying like a pendulum. "Limpy?" The word lingers between them, weighted. "Don't degrade yourself like that, your physique is quite a good one, not too fat, not too thin, your legs were extra strong to be honest, used to running?"
Issei's fingers tighten around the soda can—the aluminum denting slightly under his grip. He remembers the endless chase with kendo club girls back when he was still....that kind of person, when he hung out with Motohama and Matsuda, joined them in peeking at girls, fond memories though painful "Yeah, got chased a lot....you heard the reputation"
Yuuma's lips purse around the rim of her drink—"Reputations are such fragile things," she muses, her pink eyes flickering to the setting sun. "Like spiderwebs. Easy to weave, easier to break."
The observation prickles at Issei's skin. He crushes the empty can with a hollow pop. "Why do you care so much?" The question slips out rougher than intended. "About me. About...all this."
For the first time since the tour began, Yuuma hesitates. Her fingers twitch—an almost imperceptible tremor—before she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear with rehearsed coyness. "Because I am a new student, and everything here is new to me, so I tend to look at things more....openly than others, I don't know your reputation, I just heard it via other people's stories, and stories....are sometimes too....personal to tell the whole truth...."
She turns to him, looking at him intensely while he maintains his position, trying to avoid eye contact "But from what I saw today, you're not the one they kept nitpicking about"
Issei exhales sharply through his nose—half-laugh, half-scoff—as he tosses the crushed can into the recycling bin with more force than necessary. It clatters against the metal, echoing in the quiet courtyard. "Yeah, well. People love their narratives."
Yuuma's fingers twitch—just once—before she folds them neatly atop her knee. The fading sunlight catches the gloss of her nails, making them gleam like polished obsidian. "Narratives can be rewritten," she murmurs. "With the right... influence."
Something in her tone makes the hairs on Issei's neck prickle. He rubs at the spot absently, shifting his weight. "I'm not looking for a rewrite. Just... moving forward."
Yuuma's smile doesn't reach her eyes. "Forward is good." She leans back against the wall, looking further to the other side of the school "By the way, what is that building over there?" She points at the building covered in moss and plants, almost immpossible to see from here, at the far far side of the school.
"That's the old school building, the school used to be there...as far as I heard, but since the new building is completed" he gestures towards the place where they just studied earlier "That one was abandoned for some reason and now it's the clubhouse of Occult Research Club."
Yuuma's fingers twitch against her soda can—a faint metallic creak as the aluminum bends under her grip. Her pupils dilate momentarily, swallowing the pink irises whole before snapping back to normal. "Occult Research Club?" Her voice lilts with rehearsed curiosity, but Issei catches the undercurrent of something sharper. "What do they research?"
Issei shrugs, wiping sweat from his temple. "No idea. President's some rich transfer student—Buchou, they call her. The whole club's weirdly popular despite doing nothing public." He nods toward the distant silhouette of a crimson-haired girl crossing the quadrangle, trailed by 2 other figures "That's her in the middle. Rias Gremory, public crush, rumoured to be from Europe"
Yuuma leans forwards "And the 2 following her?" she points "One is the golden boy of the first year, Kiba Yuuto, you saw his name at the leaderboard earlier, the other one is Akeno Himejima, another public crush, Rias's best friend and classmate in 2-B"
"Where Aruto Abyga-senpai studies?" Issei nods, "Yep, the school's 3 biggest shots are in that class—Aruto-senpai, Rias-buchou, Akeno-senpai." He scratches his cheek, recalling something. "Though lately they've been absent a lot. Overseas exchange program, supposedly, first is Aruto-senpai, now Nami-senpai"
Yuuma's fingers twitch—"Nami-senpai?" Issei nods again "Yep, Nakamura Akemi, another big shot, hasn't come to school for a week now, maybe it's another student exchange like Abyga-senpai before Christmas"
"And they are all members of this club?" Yuuma asks, only for Issei to shrug "Nami-senpai and Abyga-senpai are not members as far as I know, but even so, he, Rias, Akeno and Nami are close friends, always seen together whenever they're in school."
Yuuma hums—low and resonant—before abruptly standing, tossing her empty soda can into the bin with surgical precision. "Let's go see the old building," she declares, already striding across the courtyard without waiting for his response. Issei blinks, scrambling to catch up. "Wait—it's off-limits after classes—"
The warning dies in his throat as Yuuma pivots on her heel, pink eyes gleaming with focus. "Rules are such flexible things," she murmurs, tilting her head toward the moss-covered structure. "Don't you want to know what they're hiding?"
Issei swallows hard, the phantom weight of Robin's chiding voice warring with his curiosity. Before he can protest further, Yuuma's hand—cold despite the afternoon heat—closes around his wrist, tugging him forward with surprising strength.
The old building looms closer, ivy-choked walls casting jagged shadows across their path. Yuuma traces the broken links with her fingertips, lips parting in a smile that doesn't reach her eyes.
Issei's pulse thrums against his ribs—part anticipation, part dread. The Occult Research Club had always been a mystery, whispered about in hushed tones between classes. But something about Yuuma's grip on his wrist feels less like curiosity and more like inevitability.
The side entrance groans open under Yuuma's touch—rusted hinges protesting with a sound like wounded metal. Getting closer to the club's entrance, they start hearing voice from the inside, it's likely from Rias due to the confidence "Okay, so, for today's activities, we are going to share the ghostly stories we heard, see, or even experience...."
"Well, not too far from my expectation..." Issei whispers quietly to Yuuma, "They are just story sharing club that focuses on supernatural thingies"
Yuuma's grip tightens—her fingers colder than the rusted doorframe. "Is that so?" Her whisper curls like smoke around his ear. She tries to open the door, but it's locked from the inside, the windows are all closed, isolating the entire inside of the old building with the outside.
Inside, muffled laughter erupts—Rias's voice carrying through the aged wood with aristocratic ease. Yuuma exhales through her nose—a sound almost disappointed—before abruptly releasing Issei's wrist. She steps back, raven hair swaying freely against the breeze.
"How dull." Her pink eyes flick toward a second-floor window where silhouettes move behind drawn curtains. "Let's find another way in." Issei grabs her elbow on reflex. "Wait—we can't just—"
"What are you 2 doing out here?" A voice snaps them both out, none of them felt the arrival of another person—Aruto Abyga is standing before them with an eyebrow raised, his arms crossed and his mouth is holding a laughter "If you're looking for a place to.....I don't know, being lovey dovey, this place isn't it, there are people inside"
Issei jolts—his sneaker squeaks against the concrete as he instinctively puts distance between himself and Yuuma. "A-Abyga-senpai!" His voice cracks. "We weren't—I was just giving her a tour—"
Aruto's grin widens—"Aww~Don't need to hide it from me, kouhai, you having a girlfriend is something that I am delighted to see, it would get me one less menacing gaze when coming to school—" His gaze shifts to Yuuma, who stands utterly still—her fingers twitching once before settling into a perfect mimicry of shyness.
"Oh? So this is the new transfer student everyone's talking about," Aruto muses, then looks back at Issei with a thumb-up "You sure move fast, huh Hyoudou? I have compliments for your activeness, already volunteering yourself to show her around school, how romantic~"
Yuuma's fingers twitch—just once—before she clasps them demurely in front of her skirt. "A-Abyga-senpai, right?" Her voice lilts with rehearsed shyness, but her pink eyes remain eerily fixed on Aruto's throat. "Issei-kun was just...kind enough to show me the school."
Aruto's grin doesn't waver, though his pupils contract slightly. "Kindness is Kuoh's specialty," he says, plucking an apple from his blazer pocket with a magician's flourish. "Though sneaking into restricted areas isn't." He takes a crisp bite, juice glinting on his lower lip.
Issei stiffens—his shoulders hiking toward his ears. "We weren't—! I mean, Yuuma just wanted to see—"
"Relax," Aruto laughs, tossing the apple core into a nearby bush with absent precision. "I won't snitch. But Buchou's club meetings are...private." His gaze flicks to the second-floor window where Rias's silhouette paces behind the curtains. "Very private....and creepy, so for a new student, I wouldn't recommend it."
Patting Issei's shoulder, he turns him and points at the top of the main building "Instead, a trip to the rooftop is more.....fascinating, it's the best place to see the sunset....and make romantic confession, there has been so many cases, even that bulky, clumsy bully, well, no so bully anymore, Hamuda-senpai confessed to his beloved kendo club president Chiyoko Kawata-senpai before they graduate"
Mentioning of that 2 names makes Issei shiver slightly, because back when he was doing perverted thing, Chiyoko was the one who beat him and his pals the hardest, no matter what custody she received from the schoolboard, she didn't lighten her shinai when his group peeked at girls.
And Hamuda Takeshi was not a long lasting pursue like Chiyoko, it was like a sudden blow, because months ago, each one of his trio received a punch from him out of nowhere, for reasons that they never dared to ask and was knocked out cold, then woke in kendo dojo...with Chiyoko.....'I wonder why I could take that many blows yet still persistent with peeking...' Issei thinks to himself about the one he used to be in the past.
Yuuma looks at Issei curiously as she sees him closing his eyes like trying to forget something "Is something the matter, Issei-kun?"
Issei exhales sharply—the phantom sting of Chiyoko's shinai lingering across his ribs. "Just...old memories." He rubs his elbow absently, where Hamuda's punch had left a bruise that lasted weeks. "Bad ones."
Aruto watches the exchange with quiet amusement before clapping his hands together. "Anyway! Rooftop. Sunset. Romance." He winks exaggeratedly at Issei. "Ten times better than eavesdropping on occult club ghost stories, promise."
Before Issei can protest, Yuuma's fingers brush his wrist—light as a spider's thread. "Let's go," she murmurs, her pink eyes flickering toward the rooftop access door with unsettling focus. "I'd like to see the view."
Aruto grins, tossing Issei a thumbs-up. "Atta boy." With that, he strides off toward the old building's side entrance, whistling a jaunty tune that clashes with the creeping dusk. As the two leave to the main building, the door of the clubhouse creeks open, Rias comes to him "Fallen?" she whispers
He nods "Fallen, and she is spying on the boy for some reasons...." and turns to her "About time to use that technique, Rias" hearing 'that technique' makes Rias take a step back "Nope, nope, I've had enough headache already, I'm a multi-threader like Robin!" she protests.
And quickly, she comes up with a new resolve "I'll have Koneko keeping an eye on him, and her, please don't throw me in that intel ocean anymore" it earns a nod from Aruto as he heads into the clubhouse without anyone looking.
[Kuoh Academy - Rooftop]
The rooftop door clicks shut behind them, Yuuma drifts toward the chain-link fence like a shadow unspooling—her fingertips skating along the metal with unsettling precision. Issei lingers by the access door, the concrete biting into his palms as he leans back.
"Pretty," Yuuma murmurs. The sunset paints her profile in bloody hues, catching the gloss of her lower lip. She doesn't blink.
Issei swallows. "Yeah." He means the view—the sprawl of Kuoh bleeding into dusk—but Yuuma's head tilts as if he'd confessed something else entirely.
"You're interesting, Issei-kun." Her voice lilts. "Most boys would've tried to hold my hand by now." He doesn't smile "Well, never dared to again" He steps next to her "I'm just a tour guide, I'm not trying anything like Abyga-senpai said, because well....we're not anything" he admits without looking sideways.
Yuuma exhales—a sound like a blade being sheathed. She leans forward, forearms resting on the fence as she gazes at the sprawling campus below. The fading light catches the smoothness of her skin, making it gleam like polished porcelain. "Honesty is rare," she murmurs. "Especially from boys who peeked at girls in locker rooms."
Issei's stomach lurches. His fingers tighten around the chain-link. "That...was a long time ago. I am still wondering how tanky I was back then, being able to take that many blows yet.....still tried that shameless action"
Yuuma's lips curve with fascination over the new friend she made "So, what changed you?" she asked while looking at him, her pink eyes unblinking, reflecting the sunset like twin pools of diluted blood.
Issei exhales through his nose, watching a distant flock of birds scatter. "A time that I used real trauma to serve my twisted goal, the time that I took my joke too far, my action almost destroyed my family, that's when I realized what I have been doing as a hobby was nothing but meaningless hallucination that I used to justify myself."
Yuuma's fingers twitch against the fence—a metallic ping echoing faintly. "And now you volunteer," she observes, voice devoid of inflection. "Yeah." He shrugs, rubbing his elbow where he claws himself to ease his own guilt. "Helping old ladies at the nursing home beats getting whacked with a shinai."
The wind shifts—carrying the distant chime of Kuoh's clocktower. Yuuma's hair flies beautifully in the wind "And it led to the one I am with now, then should I consider myself lucky? Being able to see this new, mature side of you that stood up from the mud?"
Issei stiffens, fingers curling around the fence. "I also consider myself lucky, to be able to have a chance to change into a better person for my family, for the school, the people I am helping, and most importantly, to myself...so yes, perhaps you're lucky to find me in this state other than....before"
Yuuma glances at him, realizing the genuinity in his words, she smiles, pure, unguarded 'So that's the kind of person you are.....' suddenly, her phone buzzes violently, she picks it up and reads it "I'm sorry, Issei-kun, I have to go"
Issei nods "It's okay, I understand" Yuuma smiles at him "I'll see you tomorrow, Issei-kun" and turns to leave, her fingers holding the phone until she is in a dark corner of the school where there is no one around. She leaned against the wall, took her phone out and answered "Yes?"
"Have you found it?" the voice on the other side rang into her ear, rushing, urging like some desperation. Yuume sighs "Identifying, he has a Sacred Gear, but which? I need a little more time, it's still sleeping inside him, and he is not aware of it"
The line crackles—static distorting the voice into something jagged. "You'd better hurry, or else...." her back aches like some old wounds surfacing. "I know...." she cuts the call, putting her phone into her backpack, her hands unconsciously touching her lower back as she winces slightly.
She looks up at the rooftop where Issei still leans against the fence, gazing at the sunset. His silhouette is unguarded—utterly unaware of the gears turning around him. Yuuma exhales, rolling her shoulders 'It's just identification, no need to harm him' she encourages herself before walking towards the entrance of the school.
Meanwhile, Issei sighs once again as the sun fully set, he still has something to do before heading home for dinner, another public service job awaits him—volunteering at the orphanage of the town, though it's just a simple cleaning and cooking job, it's still a responsibility he promised to do.
[Kuoh - Orphanage]
Issei heads into the door of the orphanage, it has gotten less buzzing lately because children have been adopted a lot, as far as he remembers, there are only about 30 of them left in this facility, which is a good thing.
He still remembers when the kids moved away with their new parents and the goodbyes they said to him, every single one of them thanking him for his kindness, some of them crying as they left. He was happy for them—truly—but his fingers still curled into fists whenever he thought about their empty beds. The caretaker, an elderly woman with weathered hands and a perpetual apron, greeted him with a warm smile. "Ah, Issei-kun, right on time."
He heads inside and "Issei oni-chan!"—a chorus of voices erupts as tiny bodies barrel into his legs. He stumbles back, laughing as sticky fingers clutch at his uniform. The caretaker clucks her tongue. "They've been waiting for you since lunch."
Issei ruffles the nearest mop of hair—a boy named Kota whose missing front teeth make his grin lopsided. "Sorry I'm late. Got held up by...tour guide duties." The lie slips out easily, though Kota's narrowed eyes suggest he isn't convinced. Before the boy can interrogate him, Issei produces a bag of konpeito from his pocket—eliciting a collective gasp.
"Bribery!" shrieks a pigtailed girl, but her hands are already outstretched. The caretaker sighs but doesn't interfere as candy distributes chaos. "Now I can cook peacefully, keep them in line, Issei-kun..." He nods as the kids surround him.
As the kids were eating their candies, the older ones came in as they returned after school at Kuoh Primary School and Kuoh Junior High, they greeted Issei and he greets them back "How was school today, guys, girls?"
The oldest among them—a lanky boy named Haruto with a perpetual cowlick—shrugs, nudging his glasses up his nose. "Same old. It's the end of the school year anyway so there wasn't much left for us to do, but here...." He hands out his own report card to Issei, grinning as Kota scrambles to grab it.
Issei blinks at the perfect scores—especially in mathematics—before letting out a low whistle. "Damn, Haruto. Aiming to apply to Kuoh Academy?" The boy flushes, rubbing his neck. "If...if I get the scholarship. The headmistress said—"
Before he can finish, Kota shrieks—"Issei-nii, look!"—brandishing a crumpled art project. The paper is smeared with what might be a dinosaur or possibly a very aggressive banana. Issei nods solemnly. "Clearly avant-garde. Picasso would weep. As for you, young man" He turns back to the Haruto
"....You did well, better than me this year" Issei takes out his own report card "Look, barely past calculus" Haruto peers at the grades, his brow furrowing. "Your score is weird....separated" His voice drops to a whisper. "A+ at history and geography, A at English, B+ at literature and economics, C+ at physics and biology, barely passing calculus—what the hell?"
Issei chuckles, rubbing his neck. "Yeah, well....Robin-sensei's lessons stick better than textbooks." The name slips out before he can stop it—Haruto's eyes gleam with recognition. "Robin-sensei, who is that?"
"A teacher at Kuoh Academy, the best one in my opinion, she is the one that caused this separation in my marks" Issei chuckles, rubbing his neck. "Her lessons stick better than textbooks."
Haruto leans in, intrigued. "Is she really that good?"
"Better," Issei admits, glancing at the younger kids now engrossed in their candy-fueled chaos. "She doesn't just teach facts—she makes you understand them. Like history isn't just dates and names, but why people did what they did. She made me realize..." He trails off, shaking his head. "Never mind. The point is, if you get into Kuoh Academy, try to get into her class."
A girl in the group beams up "Robin-sensei, do you mean the one with flowing raven hair, smart blue eyes, beautiful face and super tall, right?" Issei tilts his head "Hey, how did you know?"
The girl—Yuki—twirls a lock of hair around her finger, grinning. "She visited pretty frequently before you arrived, every Sunday, she came to tell us stories, her voice was so good to hear, smooth, warm, like being cradled by sound, we call her Miss All Sunday"
Haruto's mouth hung open "Wait, so Miss All Sunday is a teacher at Kuoh Academy? She never told us that" Issei snorted, folding his report card back into his pocket. "She's got layers, that one. Probably didn't want you treating her like some stuffy teacher."
"Now I want to be in Kuoh Academy," Haruto declares, clutching his report card tighter. The other older kids murmur agreement, their eyes alight with sudden ambition. Issei grins, ruffling Kota's hair again—the boy now attempting to fold his banana-dinosaur artwork into a paper airplane.
[Timeskip: Brought to you by chibi Robin taking teaching orphan]
The caretaker came out of the kitchen after she finished cooking for the children to see they are playing with Issei, she leans against the wall looking at them bantering, it's a stark contrast with 2 months ago when Issei came here as the new volunteer contributor for the orphanage, he was there by force and it was etched on his face when he awkwardly interacted with the children.
But now, after 2 months, she saw a different Issei—one who eagerly played with them, joked with them, and treated them like younger siblings, even cried a few times when the kids were adopted and had to leave the orphanage. She smiled softly before clapping her hands "Okay kids! Time for dinner!"
The children groaned but obeyed, lining up dutifully as Issei helped set the tables. Kota tugged at his sleeve. "Issei-nii, will you eat with us today?" The hopeful tone made his chest tighten. He glanced at the clock—his mother would be waiting—but the caretaker nodded permission before he could answer.
"Just this once," he conceded, earning cheers. "but I need to make a call first" he steps out of the orphanage, knowing too well mentioning his mother in front of kids who have lost theirs is quite insensitive, so he pulls his phone out and makes a call home "Mom, I'm staying for dinner at the orphanage tonight."
His mother's sigh crackles through the receiver. "Again?" But there's no real reproach—just the familiar rustle of her rearranging dinner plans. "At least tell Mrs. Fujimoto to go easy on the chili this time. Your stomach—"
"I know, I know." He rubs the phantom ache from last week's curry incident. The call ends just as Kota barrels into his legs again, nearly toppling him. "Oi—!"
[Kuoh Town - Orphanage - Dining Room]
The dining room smells of miso soup and fried tofu—comforting in its simplicity. Issei helps distribute seats, bowls, chopsticks, spoon,...., noting how Haruto meticulously aligns his chopsticks while Yuki sneakily swaps her carrots into Kota's tray. The caretaker pretends not to see.
"To think that you're this attached to the children here...." the caretaker starts talking to Issei as they eat together with the kids, a scene that would never have happened 2 months ago. She smiles warmly at him "And they adore you, especially Kota, he's been asking when you'll come back since yesterday"
Issei swallows a bite of tofu, feeling an odd warmth in his chest. "They're...easy to get attached to." His gaze lingers on Kota, who's currently attempting to balance a carrot on his nose while Haruto scolds him halfheartedly.
"Yet it's so hard to let them go once they are adopted, I know it's good for them to have a new family, but I can't help but worry, will they be happy there? Will they treat the kids well? Will they ever come back here or miss this place?" She looks at the children around her, those who will one day leave her side after being adopted by someone else, she smiles sadly "But that's selfishness, isn't it?"
Issei watches Kota fail spectacularly at his carrot-balancing act—the vegetable bouncing off his forehead and landing squarely in Yuki's miso soup. The resulting shriek is deafening. He exhales, suddenly aware of the orphanage's creaking floorboards, the patched-up curtains, the way Haruto's uniform sleeves are frayed at the cuffs. "I don't think it's selfish," he says quietly. "It's just...love...."