At some point… Hiro Satoru had wondered. Back when he was training for his first nationals, he thought—what if my teacher vanished all of a sudden? Would his family have forced him back into business studies, into the golden cage they'd always prepared for him? Maybe not. But if the Garou family pulled their support? …Yes. Almost certainly.
Hiro Satoru didn't own his dream. His dream had never been strong enough to escape his family's grip, because at the end of the day— Hiro and Satoru weren't equals. The weight behind that name—Hiro Shokai—how could he ever hope to break free of it? Was his only chance at freedom the very business he despised? To give up boxing and chase profit, only to buy back the right to fight? That despicable loop never had an answer.
So he chose differently. He chose a darker road. If the system of his name wouldn't let him own his life, then he would build a life outside of it. He bent his talent into something ugly, molding it into something violent. A gang. He knew his teacher hated it—he hated it himself, sometimes—but he endured. He endured because it was the only path that even resembled freedom.
But all of that—his master, his family, his wealth, his so-called mission—shattered in an instant when Issei grabbed his arm, intent on breaking it.
His arm.
To him, those arms were more than just flesh and bone. It was everything. His gang, his boxing, even his dream; every step of his life since the first punch he'd ever thrown. All of it lived in those fists.
They were the true keys to his—
"Freedom…"
The word tore through him. His pulse spiked. His body screamed to move.
A life without boxing…
Without boxing… Hiro Satoru, ceases to exist.
It was survival.
When Kenji bought him those precious seconds, Hiro was already moving.
A burst of life bloomed inside his body. That familiar rush he once felt—no, stronger than before—flooded his system.
WHAAAMMMM!!!!!!
**********
**********
A sense of dread washed over the cafeteria when Hyoudou Issei crashed into a table, the wooden surface splintering under his weight.
For a moment, silence.
Then all hell broke loose.
"He's DOWN! Quick!"
Tiles screeched. Shoes hammered against the floor. Toru and Kenji lunged forward. Hiro was already moving too, eyes locked on the downed Issei. The sudden reversal of the situation had everyone frozen—no one knew what to do, or even if they should.
But three people did.
GRAB!
GRAB!
GRAB!
"What the—?!"
Toru's veins bulged as Kagami Aizawa's trembling arm locked around him, dragging at his weight.
Not just him—
"Got you, bastard!" Matsuda snarled, clinging to Hiro's back like a vice.
"Not so fast!" Motohama wrapped both arms around Kenji's waist, dragging him down with desperate force.
The cafeteria erupted into a bizarre, messy struggle: three bodies throwing themselves at monsters they couldn't stop.
In that short moment of chaos—
Clink. Clatter.
Issei pushed himself up from the wrecked table, blood dripping from a split lip where Hiro's fist had landed flush. His shoulders rose and fell with ragged breath, his gaze locked on Hiro Satoru. For a moment, his eyes seemed to bulge unnaturally.
"…Interesting bastard, aren't you?"
Blood streaked his chin. Across from him, Hiro's cheek carried a raw, swelling cut from the knuckle-duster punch earlier, red searing across his face like a brand.
Issei's fingers worked at the metal around his knuckles.
Grip. Clatter.
The dusters dropped to the ground.
"…Let's go."
Matsuda, who was caught under Hiro's crushing grip, felt the shift in the atmosphere. Sensing that it was no longer his place to intervene, he reluctantly let go of Hiro and stepped back, eyes flicking between the two.
The cafeteria seemed to hold its breath.
And the two of them rushed.
The floor trembled with each step, every gaze locked on them.
The real fight had finally begun.
**********
**********
Meanwhile—
"Hah…"
Toru exhaled, his teeth bared as he felt Aizawa's weak arm clinging to him. The younger boy's hand was trembling so hard it barely held.
"…The moment you saw an opening, you jumped me, huh?" Toru's voice dripped with contempt. His face flushed red, veins crawling up his temple.
"You little shit…"
He shrugged violently, ripping Aizawa's hand away.
"…You asked for this."
His fist came up, huge and heavy, aiming for Aizawa's face.
Aizawa ducked under the swing at the last second, stumbling sideways, nearly tripping over his own feet. His chest heaved, breaths jagged from adrenaline.
Still, his legs didn't run.
He planted his feet, trembling, staring up at the brute looming over him.
"Wh-what's wrong?" His voice cracked, but the words still tumbled out.
"Can't even…catch me?"
Toru's face darkened.
With a roar, the bigger boy hurled himself forward, a beast set on crushing prey. The floor thundered as he tried to slam Aizawa down.
**********
**********
Hiro Satoru crashed into Issei like a beast let loose from its cage. His fists hammerered into Issei's ribs with sickening thuds. A hook grazed Issei's jaw, another buried into his gut, and before Issei could create distance, Hiro clinched — arms wrapped, head pressed forward, driving him backward. They smashed into a table, with such ferocity that it partially broke. Hiro pressed in, giving Issei no space to kick, emerald eyes blazing as raw strength poured through.
Despite the aggressive assault, Hyoudou Issei's eyes remained calm, shimmering blue. He nullified a few critical body shots from Hiro with an astute reading of his opponent. Every micro movement of from Hiro became a warning. When the next flurry came, Issei pivoted, slipped outside, and—
THWACK!
His shin smashed into Hiro's thigh. The boxer's leg buckled, but he gritted through it.
Issei burst forward with feral aggression. Punches and kicks lashed in ruthless rhythm. A front kick slammed Hiro into a row of chairs, metal screeching. Before Hiro could reset, Issei vaulted off a table, his heel dropping down like an axe.
BOOM!
Hiro blocked high, arms screaming. He sank to one knee under the force.
Snarling, Hiro shot forward, tackling Issei. The smaller boy held his ground, fighting hands, but the momentum crushed him back into another table. Hiro locked the clinch, shoving him against the wood.
And then—
WHAM!
A headbutt cracked against Issei's nose. Blood sprayed. Students winced at the sound. Hiro smothered him with sheer aggression.
But that was the mistake.
CRACK! CRACK!
Two sharp elbows slammed into Hiro's skull. Issei's eyes sharpened, his body snapping into violent rhythm. A knee to the ribs. An elbow to the jaw. A low kick to buckle Hiro's stance.
Still, Hiro's fist lashed out.
SMASH!
It cracked across Issei's jaw, snapping his head sideways.
The table beneath them shrieked, groaned—
SHATTER!
—and gave way, collapsing under the feral violence.
**********
**********
"Cr-crazy…" Saji gulped, his eyes darting around the cafeteria. "I don't even know where to look… Three fights going on at once—this is my first time seeing someone with intent other than Izo…"
"…Don't you find it strange?" Kiba said calmly.
"Yeah, how is someone like him—"
"That Hyoudou Issei is keeping up with someone using intent."
That single line was a lightbulb moment for many of the Student Council and ORC members.
"You don't mean…"
"No way…"
"…I don't sense intent from him," Koneko muttered.
"Ah!" Saji spoke as a possible explanation came to his mind, "Maybe his sleeping sacred gear is giving him some perks?"
A few nodded at that, but Kiba's expression stayed skeptical.
BOOM!
A table went flying across the cafeteria, making Saji flinch.
"What do you think?" Sona asked, her frown deepening as she glanced toward Rias.
"…It's weaker than Hyoudou Izo's intent," Rias admitted, her voice edged with worry as she kept her eyes on Issei. "I just hope he can hold out."
Sona nodded her head.
"The power output from intent seems low compared to what we see from Izo. It seems like it is not pure intent but a sub phenomenon. 'Pseudo-intent'."
Saji tilted his head, whispering to Kiba while still staring at the chaos.
"What are they talking about?"
"Pseudo-intent. It's like… a knock-off version of intent," Kiba explained.
"Eh? Difference?"
"Think passive buff versus active buff. Hiro's running the passive one, with worse stats and no control."
Kiba said patiently.
"…Ohhh. Gotcha." Saji nodded seriously, gamer words enlightening him.
Meanwhile, at the back of the crowd, Hyoudou Izo's jaw was tight, eyes dark.
"Pseudo-intent, huh? That bastard…" His voice was low, "So his plan was to use Issei as fuel to awaken his own student… Maybe that Principal also..."
He paused, eyes narrowing further.
"…But even now, I can't feel anything from Issei. How is he keeping up with that guy?"
He waited, listening to the voice only he could hear. Then:
"…You can't sense anything either? Damn it…" His fists clenched. "Do we report this? Or…"
Around them, the rest of the normal students weren't even whispering.
Faces pale, frozen, caught between disbelief and fear.
A few looked toward the staff already hovering nearby, but the teachers only shook their heads. Nobody could really blame them—the cafeteria had become a whirlwind of brutal, unrestrained violence. Stepping in now would be volunteering to become the next victim.
The thought of calling the police flickered through a few minds, but no one pulled out their phone. Saying it out loud felt like admitting this had already gone too far.
Eyes shifted nervously from one fight to another—Motohama and Matsuda against Kenji, Hiro against Issei, and then finally—
"Hey, sh-shouldn't we help him…?"
A boy nervously asked as he watched the mess Aizawa had gotten himself into.
"…"
His question went unanswered as they briefly turned their attention to Toru and Aizawa, now facing off against each other.
**********
**********
Toru lunged like a raging bull, his massive arm sweeping out in a haymaker meant to break a jaw. Aizawa ducked under the swing, his feet skidding, and snapped a quick kick into Toru's shin before springing back out of range. It barely staggered the larger boy.
"Quit running, you little shit!" Toru bellowed, barreling forward and smashing chairs aside as if they were paper.
Aizawa kept circling, light on his feet, landing a quick jab to the ribs, then backing away.
Tag and go. Don't stay in front. He could almost hear Issei's voice in his head. Hit and run.
But Toru wasn't as dumb as he looked. He cut the angle, forcing Aizawa toward a wall. When Aizawa tried to pivot out, Toru lunged and caught a fistful of his shirt, yanking him close like a ragdoll.
Aizawa's stomach dropped when he saw Toru's fist cocked back. He reacted on pure instinct, stomping down hard on the big guy's foot and slamming his forehead into Toru's nose.
Crack.
Toru roared in pain, his grip loosening just long enough for Aizawa to rip free and roll over a table.
"COME HERE!"
The table shuddered as Toru shoved it aside with a violent two-hand push. Aizawa scrambled upright, chest heaving, eyes scanning. He couldn't beat this guy head-on. It felt like every swing from him could result in a knockout.
Toru came in again, throwing a right hook like a sledgehammer.
…
..
.
Glow.
Aizawa stepped just outside the arc, twisting his hips, and drove a back kick into Toru's gut—a near-perfect imitation of a move he'd seen Issei use. The bigger man grunted, doubling over slightly.
The students watching couldn't hide their surprise.
"… Who is that guy?"
"Eh? Don't you know…"
"… Kagami Sora had a brother?"
"I had no idea…"
Toru, straightened up, his face contorted.
"… Hah… Just like that pesky brother of yours!"
Aizawa's expression turned cold at the mention of Sora. Toru snarled and rushed, fists pounding like pistons. Aizawa ducked one, pivoted hard, and used Toru's own momentum to shove him head-first into a desk.
CRACK!
The leg of the desk collapsed. Toru ripped free, chest heaving, blood running his chin, from his nose. His eyes burned with rage. "You're dead!"
Aizawa stayed loose, bouncing on his feet, his heart thundering.
"I can do it…" he murmured, then shook his head.
"I will."
He reaffirmed his resolve just as the sound of another table collapsing echoed across the hall.
**********
The two fighters separated for a brief moment before rushing right back in. Hiro, now empowered by his intent, lunged in with a darting jab-cross-hook combo, his fists snapping out like whips. Issei slipped out of the range for the first two stikes and caught the hook on his forearm, twisting his hips to absorb the force before firing a sharp knee into Hiro's midsection.
WHAM!
Hiro grunted, absorbing the blow, then pivoted on his lead foot and slammed an overhand right down like a hammer. Issei ducked under, coming up in Hiro's blind spot, and shoved him shoulder-first into a desk. Wood groaned and cutlery clattered to the floor.
Hiro spun off the impact, closing the distance instantly and clinching hard, his arms locking around Issei's torso like a vise. He ripped vicious uppercuts into Issei's ribs, then threw a sneaky hook over the top aimed at his temple.
Issei jerked his head aside, the punch missing by a hair's breadth, and answered with a savage elbow to Hiro's jaw. The boxer staggered, but Issei gave him no space; he hooked an arm behind Hiro's neck and snapped a knee upward, crashing into Hiro's defensive guard.
Hiro snarled, jamming his forehead forward in a crunching headbutt, then shoved Issei off and fired a right straight like a bullet. Issei parried it down, slipped inside the punch, and hip-threw him over a chair, the metal frame splintering under Hiro's weight.
CRASH!
Issei lunged with a stomp kick aimed at his downed opponent. Hiro rolled sideways, the stomp smashing into the floor where his head had been. He surged back to his feet with a lunging hook. It whistled past as Issei pivoted, sweeping Hiro's legs out from under him with a sharp low kick.
WHOOSH!
Hiro dropped to one knee but exploded upward again, an uppercut ripping through the air. Issei barely weaved away, feeling the wind of it on his jaw, and fired back with a spinning heel kick. Hiro raised both arms in a cross-guard; the sheer impact of the kick still threw him off his feet, sending him crashing into a pile of broken furniture.
He kicked free of the debris and charged again, his fists a blur of tight, powerful arcs. Issei blocked high, rolled his shoulders to deflect the blows, and then slid inside the storm of punches. He executed a brutal, close-range combo—a hard body shot that made Hiro grunt, a sharp elbow, then a sudden snap kick to the inside of Hiro's thigh that buckled his stance.
Hiro answered by exploding forward again, unleashing another flurry. A jab slammed into Issei's guard, a cross ripped in right behind it. Issei slipped the hook that followed, but Hiro, predicting it, had already stepped in with vicious body shots that thudded against his ribs like sledgehammers.
Issei staggered back, his breathing ragged, only to find Hiro cutting him off with his fast footwork, refusing to give him an inch of space. A wild right grazed Issei's temple and then Hiro crashed a shoulder into his chest, ramming him backward toward a concrete pillar. But—
*Glow*
A heel flicked up and smashed Hiro's thigh, the crack echoing in the hall. Pain jolted through Hiro, his forward momentum breaking for a critical instant. Issei didn't miss the chance. He spun, driving a side kick with bone-jarring force into Hiro's chest, launching him into a nearby table so hard it splintered and collapsed on contact.
*******
The force of crash sent a nearby table skidding across the floor, where it crashed into the back of Ryugasaki Kenji. He was currently engaged in a tense Two-vs-One against Motohama and Matsuda, who had joined the fray shortly after Issei and Hiro's duel began.
The second the table hit Kenji's back, breaking his focus, Matsuda charged. His sneakers squealed across the tiled floor. Motohama kept his distance, his eyes sharp behind the glint of his glasses.
Kenji quickly steadied himself, creating space between him and the various obstacles.
More than anything, he wanted to rush to Hiro's side, but a single glimpse of their fight had made it brutally clear: they were on a completely different level. He would only be a liability if he interfered.
In a way, this was a blessing. Even if it was a 2-vs-1, this was a chance for him make amends for backing down against Issei.
Matsuda came in swinging with impressive momentum. The first hook whistled past Kenji's jaw as he tilted just out of range. Kenji caught the second swing mid-air, twisted, and drove his elbow into Matsuda's ribs.
Just then, Motohama lunged from behind in a clumsy grab. Kenji, barely registering him in time, yanked Matsuda into Motohama's path like a human shield. They both stumbled, grunting. Kenji staggered back, his chest heaving.
"Damn it…" Fighting multiple opponents was more nerve-wracking than he'd imagined.
Matsuda scrambled to his feet, rage boiling in his eyes. He feinted left, dove right, and shot low for a tackle. Kenji braced, but Matsuda slammed into his waist hard enough to knock the air from his lungs. They crashed into a chair with a loud clatter. Kenji hammered down blindly with his elbow, again and again, until Matsuda groaned and let go.
He stumbled free, trying to catch his breath, only to see Motohama charging, swinging a broken chair leg like a bat. Kenji barely managed to raise his forearm in time—
CRACK!
The blow landed squarely on his already injured arm, the same one Issei had kneed earlier. An excrutiating pain exploded from the point of impact.
"Son of a—!" Kenji barked, lashing out on pure instinct, clocking Motohama in the jaw with his good hand. Motohama staggered.
Matsuda was already pushing himself up, veins bulging in his neck.
Motohama, gritting his teeth, snatched up a full chair this time.
Kenji backpedaled, his heart pounding. Neither party seemed to be willing to back down, despite the exhaustion creeping in.
The chair whistled past Kenji's head as he ducked, the momentum spinning Motohama off balance. Kenji seized the moment, yanking the chair from Motohama's trembling hands and smashing it into Matsuda, who cried out, unable to defend himself.
The fight was devolving into a messy, desperate brawl. Kenji's heart hammered against his ribs.
Seeing the duo still struggling to regain their footing, he just gritted his teeth, squared his shoulders, and cursed under his breath.
"…Fuck."
***
"… Fuck."
Issei cursed under his breath as Hiro dragged himself up again. The bastard just wouldn't stay down.
He'd already knocked Hiro out once. That should've been the end of it. Instead, Hiro fought like he'd been brought back from the dead by a max revive, throwing himself at Issei with a kind of reckless stamina that forced him, a fighter who preferred to use space and powerful kicks, into a grinding, high-speed, close-quarters brawl.
Issei kept targeting Hiro's legs, a logical strategy to neutralize a boxer's footwork, but while the blows seemed to be working, Hiro Satoru seemed nowhere near finished.
'Where the hell did this guy come from…?'
For most of his life, Issei could have confidently said that no human could surpass his natural talents. But after facing Raynare, after learning about the supernatural, he'd adjusted that belief: 'No normal human can surpass my natural talents.'
And now, after all these years, Hiro Satoru stood in front of him—still on his feet, still refusing to fall.
He narrowed his eyes at Hiro, forcing his ragged breathing under control. His body was running on fumes after cutting through a horde of opponents, every muscle screaming in protest. He tried to hide it, to move like he still had plenty left in the tank—but if this dragged on, he knew he'd be swarmed. His gaze flicked to the other fights—Aizawa vs. Toru, and Motohama & Matsuda vs. Kenji. If any of them broke free and joined in, he'd be in real trouble.
'A perfect, unbroken record of never losing a single fight.'
For the first time in his life, Hyoudou Issei imagined that record breaking against Hiro Satoru—
SMACK.
Hiro blinked, stunned, as Issei slapped himself across the face.
"Phuah…"
Issei let out a long, shuddering breath, his heartbeat steadying. He loosened his stance, small shifts running through his guard until his body settled.
He locked eyes with Hiro's glowing emerald gaze—a gaze filled not with desperation, but with an unyielding determination to win.
Irritation boiled in Issei's chest, pressing against the edge of his focus.
'Me?'
His eyes, which had been a faint blue swirled into burning red.
'Lose against… him?'
Blood traced a line down his chin. He tilted his head, voice flat but sharp.
"Hey, Hiro."
A pause.
"Let's go all out."
Hiro froze, staring at him. He was already giving it everything.
******
Meanwhile…
Toru lunged first, swinging his arm like a battering ram. Aizawa barely ducked in time, the wind of the blow brushing his hair as it splintered the edge of a nearby table.
"Shit—!" Aizawa stumbled back, heart pounding, and clambered onto a table. He tried to spring to the next one as he'd seen Issei do, but Toru simply kicked the table's legs out, throwing him off balance. Aizawa crashed shoulder-first into a chair.
Toru grinned wide. "Thought you were slick, huh?" He stomped forward, his hand shooting out to grab Aizawa's shirt.
Aizawa rolled sideways desperately, his fingers closing around a broken chair leg. He swung it with both hands. It cracked hard against Toru's forearm, making the big man grunt and stagger back.
"Hurts, doesn't it?" Aizawa spat, though his own arms buzzed from the recoil.
Toru's eyes narrowed. With a roar of pure anger, he hurled an entire chair at Aizawa.
Aizawa dove flat, the metal frame grazing his back as it shattered against the floor behind him. He scrambled up, chest heaving, and mustered all his courage to rush Toru before he could grab another weapon.
They collided in an awkward, sloppy mess of elbows and knees. Aizawa managed a wild punch across Toru's jaw, snapping his head sideways, but the big guy just roared and wrapped him in a crushing bear hug. They staggered like clumsy wrestlers, their boots screeching on the tiled floor.
"Get off me!" Aizawa snarled, clawing for Toru's eyes. The bigger boy flinched, loosening his grip just enough for Aizawa to shove free. He staggered back, lungs burning.
They circled each other now, both bent over, panting, sweat dripping into their eyes amidst the wreckage of scattered desks and chairs.
'Bigger muscles means he gets tired faster, right?' Aizawa thought, a desperate ringing in his ears. Indeed, Toru looked tired. But Aizawa, after all the evasive movement, was in even worse shape. He simply wasn't conditioned for a sustained fight against a brute like Toru.
"Come on then…" Toru rasped, his fists trembling with adrenaline.
Aizawa flexed his sore wrist, forcing his breathing to slow. "Fine… let's—"
BOOOOM!!!!!
A sound like a cannon tore through the cafeteria, the floor itself seeming to tremble under their feet. Both Aizawa and Toru froze, heads snapping toward the source.
"…No way," Toru muttered.
Across the room, the messy brawl between Kenji, Matsuda, and Motohama came to a screeching halt. Motohama, who had been trying to beat Kenji with a chair leg, froze mid-swing.
"N-no…" Kenji whispered from the floor, the color draining from his face as he saw the scene.
The attention of every single person in the cafeteria, fighter and spectator alike, locked onto the souce of the sound.
***
BOOOOM!!!!!
Hiro hit a pillar hard enough to web it with cracks.
The green in his eyes dimmed as he tried to steady himself—one step forward and a fist blew through his jaw. His skull snapped sideways into the stone again; the follow-up knee rose like a hammer and crushed into his ribs.
Air fled his lungs in a wheeze—then the world flipped. Issei ripped him off the pillar and flung him to the floor. Hiro rolled on instinct and tried to stand—
Issei was already on him.
Hiro braced—but he vanished from his line of sight. A blur knifed in at his flank—
CRACK!
A spinning heel smashed his temple and driving him backwards into the last intact table in the vicinity.
WHAM!!!!!
Hiro barely managed to roll aside as Issei's heel came down a heartbeat later, cleaving the table in two.
Issei didn't pause.
He yanked Hiro upright by the hair and ran him headfirst into the wall. Dust and plaster rained down. Hiro sagged, his legs turning to jelly, but Issei's grip was an iron vise. He reeled him back and pitched him across the hall.
Hiro skidded, leaving a crimson smear on the tiled floor. His vision fractured, noises echoing in his ears. The glow in his eyes had nearly vanished. Everything hurt.
Footsteps, fast—coming straight for him.
Issei blurred in.
BOOM!
A kick caved into his side, the sound like a thick branch breaking in winter. Hiro vomited a spray of blood, his body hitting the far wall before crumpling to the floor.
Still not done, Issei mounted him and drove fists down like a jackhammer. Hiro flailed, trying to shield his head from the onslaught.
Fists rained down on his as he felt his arms starting to shatter under the impact.
'Stand up.'
A voice in Issei's head was barking at Hiro. His vision blurred but he refused to cease the flurry of punches.
The glow in his eyes flickered. He felt the atmosphere change.
The body beneath him wasn't Hiro Satoru anymore—it was that kid from the martial arts tournament, the one he'd beaten into a trembling heap on the mat. The reason he'd walked away from his talent.
"GET UP!"
Issei found himself shouting as he felt the referee's hands wrapping around his arms trying to stop him.
"AFTER ALL THAT TRASH TALK!"
He was losing control. He could feel it, a distant part of his mind screaming for him to stop.
He pulled Hiro's guarding arm away as if peeling back a layer of skin, revealing the bloodied, broken face beneath. He readied a fist for the finishing blow.
He felt more hands grabbing him—his 16-year-old self—as his opponent's coach and team captain shielded the downed boy.
…
..
.
… When did this happen again?
A flicker of doubt, of confusion, pierced through the red haze. He ceased his struggle.
SHATTER
The world shattered as Issei felt a wave of absolute, crushing exhaustion washed over him.
"Are you trying to kill him?!"
"Stop it Issei!"
"He's already passed out!"
The voices of Aizawa, Motohama, and Matsuda finally broke through. They were holding onto him, their combined strength barely enough to pull him away from the unconscious Hiro Satoru, shielded by a trembling Kenji and Toru, who had thrown themselves over their fallen leader in sheer desperation.
Issei blinked, his vision slowly clearing.
The cafeteria had gone dead silent. Students stared in pale-faced terror, many with hands clamped over their mouths.
In the back, Hyoudou Izo stood rigid, eyes wide, his body locked in an unsettling stillness.
Both the ORC and the Student Council appeared shaken—intimidated by Issei's sudden, beast-like violence.
What truly put an end to the fight, however, was a single, authoritative voice that cut through the silence.
"ENOUGH!"
Principal Shirogane stood at the entrance, his face carved with displeasure. Sona shot an icy glare in his direction before composing her features. Shirogane's eyes swept over the broken mess his cafeteria had become, his face scrunching in disgust as he looked at the perpetrators.
He was the last thing Issei saw before the world finally went black and he collapsed from exhaustion.
Out in the distance, Loup Garou clicked his tongue, wearing a grim expression, before turning to leave.
"That sly old fox…"
**************
Location: ???
**************
The room was cloaked in darkness, lit only by the faint glow of a desk lamp, where a man sat hunched over parchment. His hand moved steadily, pen etching symbols and equations in careful succession. Each line fed into the next, building a structure so precise it felt alive, as though the page itself might suddenly come to life.
Then, without warning, his pen halted. A tremor in his grip let a bead of ink fall, blotting the parchment in a slow, spreading bloom. His eyes lingered on the mark, and for the first time in a long while, uncertainty slipped across his expression.
"The seal…" he muttered, the words heavy, unwilling to leave his mouth. Shock bled into fascination, his mind racing even as his body remained frozen.
"I knew it. Intent… it is far more extraordinary than I ever imagined."
**************
**************
Gentle air from the ceiling fan stroked his cheeks, dragging him back to consciousness. His body ached all over.
The sharp sting on his wrists made him glance down. A woman sat beside him, cotton swabs and gauze in hand. The school nurse. Her movements were efficient, practiced, but her mouth was set in a thin, displeased line as she cleaned the torn skin and mangled nails.
"So, the troublemaker finally wakes up," she said, voice flat, eyes never leaving her work. "This is a school infirmary, not a proper hospital. I can only do so much. When you're discharged, you'll need to visit an actual clinic."
She said with a sigh.
"This is a school, not a proper hospital, there is only so much I can do. You need to visit a proper hospital after leaving here."
Issei just blinked at her, with a blank expression.
"…Judging by these scars, it's not your first time in fights like this, right?" Her tone was clinical.
Silence.
"…Well. That's your problem. But don't drag this kind of violence into Kuoh Academy again." She taped the last bandage with a sharp press, rose without waiting for a reply, and walked out briskly, leaving the faint smell of antiseptic in the room.
Issei lowered his gaze. His shirt was gone, replaced by layers of gauze across his chest and arms. His face still throbbed from the blow Hiro had landed. He also seemed to have messed up his hands quite badly.
A voice broke the quiet.
"Oh, you're already up?"
Matsuda and Motohama stepped in with stiff movements, their uniforms all wrinkled. Matsuda clutched his sides as he walked; Motohama was limping slightly. Behind them, someone lingered uncertainly in the hall.
"Eh? You're not gonna come in?" Motohama tugged at the figure until he stumbled forward.
"Ex… excuse me." Kagami Aizawa's voice was hesitant, his eyes darting nervously to Issei before bowing slightly.
"…You guys going home?" Issei asked, in a low, tired voice.
"Yeah. It's past seven," Matsuda said, wincing as he lowered himself onto the nearest chair. "My old man's gonna chew me out when I get home."
"I didn't think you'd be awake this fast after a fight like that," Motohama added, then gestured toward Aizawa. "Oh, this is Kagami Aizawa. Our classmate."
"Hello," Aizawa bowed slightly.
"… Hello."
Issei obviously recognized him.
"He's Kagami Sora's brother, you know?" Matsuda leaned in with wide eyes, as if dropping some big revelation.
"…I see."
The conversation drifted from there. Matsuda and Motohama, despite their bruises, couldn't resist slipping back into their usual chatter—discussing an AV they'd watched last night, bickering until Aizawa looked at them with quiet disbelief.
Then the air shifted.
"…Issei." Motohama's tone softened, uncharacteristically serious. His gaze lingered on the scars that laced across Issei's chest and arms.
"Those… they're not from today, are they?"
Aizawa and Matsuda both fell silent, waiting.
Issei met their eyes for a moment. Then he leaned back against the pillow, closing his own. "…I'll rest before leaving."
"…I see." Matsuda forced a crooked smile, though the worry in his eyes didn't fade. "Then later, Issei. See you in class."
He intentionally stressed the word 'class'.
"... Yeah. Bye."
The three left, leaving the room quiet again.
Issei stared at the ceiling. The sting of his wounds was nothing compared to the weight in his chest. He could still see the fear on the faces of his classmates. After showcasing such violence...
Expulsion felt inevitable. Maybe worse. And if word spread through town, even part-time jobs would slip out of reach.
'See you in class.'
Strangely, the thought made his chest tighten. He, who was prepared to go to juvie this morning, hadn't expected to care about staying in Kuoh Academy, all of a sudden.
"...Am I really going to be expelled?"
The words slipped out before Issei realized he'd spoken them aloud.
"Who knows…"
The unexpected response came from his right. He turned, parting the cloth divider.
..!
Hiro lay on the next bed, wrapped in so many bandages that he looked like a half-made mummy. His nose was stuffed with cotton, his jaw sported a brace, and bruises painted his skin in deep purples and reds. His ribs were strapped down tightly, and one arm was in a sling.
Issei blinked, then let out a hollow laugh. "Yeah, right. You and your family aren't gonna leave me alone after this, are you?" He leaned back on his pillow, eyes finding the cracks in the ceiling.
Hiro's gaze narrowed. "Any normal school would've had us both arrested and expelled by now."
"Please," Issei muttered, a mocking edge cutting into his tired voice. "Like anyone's gonna lay a finger on you, Yakuza boy."
"…I'm your senior, you know. Watch your tone."
Issei rolled his head to the side and gave him a look — as if to ask, are you serious right now?
Hiro sighed, groaning as he lowered himself deeper into the mattress, forearm draped over his eyes. "…Forget it. What's the point anymore? It's over."
His thoughts drifted to the bet he'd lost against his master. The humiliation burned deeper than the pain. In the end, he wasn't a match for Issei. Which means...
"Hey…" Hiro broke the silence, voice low. "Where did you learn to fight like that?"
Issei scoffed. "All natural."
The smugness grated against Hiro's ears. His eyebrow twitched, but he didn't push it further.
The silence returned. Perhaps, it was the hospital air, but all the hostility drained from their bodies.
The door creaked open. A tall figure stepped in.
Shirogane Kazuro, the principal, scanned the room with a sharp, unamused gaze.
Both boys straightened automatically
"…Well. At least this room's still standing," Shirogane said flatly.
He strode further in, hands clasped behind his back. "If it were up to me, I'd have put you in separate rooms, but unfortunately, the rest are full — thanks to you."
Hiro pushed himself up, wincing. "H-how are they? My guys… the ones he…"
"Oh?" Shirogane tilted his head, his voice taking on a mock cheer. "So you can worry after all. Interesting. Didn't notice much worry when you and this second-year were breaking half the furniture in my school."
Hiro's shoulders sagged. He bowed his head.
Shirogane's attention shifted. His eyes locked on Issei.
"And you."
Issei flinched.
"I'm not nearly as concerned with Hiro Satoru here… but you, Hyoudou. How do you plan to pay for the damages?"
The question hit him harder than any punch.
Money. His greatest weakness. He hadn't thought about it — hadn't even considered it once the fight dragged on. His mind spun, searching for an excuse—
"The staff are furious," Shirogane continued, pulling a folded paper from his pocket. "From what I can see, each of you owes—"
"How about you cut it from our club funds?" Issei blurted out before he could stop himself.
Shirogane paused, frowning. "…Club? If memory serves, Hyoudou, you're not in any club."
"I mean that club, sir. The one you wanted me and Hiro Satoru to lead."
"…Huh?" Hiro turned his head so fast his bandages creaked. "Wait, what?!"
Shirogane blinked, then broke into a chuckle that soon grew into full-bodied laughter that lasted for many seconds.
"Hold on-!"
"Shhh," Issei hissed, shushing Hiro with a raised hand.
Shirogane wiped at his eyes, still chuckling. "…God, Hyoudou. You really are something. Fine. I'll see what I can do." His smile dropped, his voice sharpening. "But that's just the repair costs. Now, let's discuss your punishment."
A heavy pause followed.
"Fifteen days suspension. Followed by ten days of manual work. Three hours each day."
Issei exhaled slowly, relief flickering in his chest. Not expelled. He'd gambled with that club line, but Shirogane wanted him here. However that meant—
"…Hyoudou-kun," the principal said, eyes narrowing, "you do understand what agreeing to this club business entails, don't you?"
Issei's jaw tightened. "…Yeah. I do."
It meant stepping back onto a stage he'd sworn never to return to. The Nationals.
Shirogane gave a single nod, then turned on his heel and left the room.
Silence.
Hiro finally spoke, incredulous. "Hang on. Was that the martial arts club he was talking about? For getting the school more medals?"
"You know about it?"
"Yeah. He tried roping me into it last year, when your brother was causing trouble with my boys. He said I'd have to work with him, Hyoudou Izo, so it was an immediate no from me. Wait—hold on. Why the hell do I have to do this now?!"
Issei's eyes hardened at the mention of Izo. He started putting on his uniform.
"Too late now."
"What do you mean too late?! I never agreed to this! And I can pay my share of the repairs, so you just pulled this stunt for yourself!"
Issei clicked his tongue, slinging his bag over his shoulder. "You should've spoken up earlier. Door's closed now."
"What?! Didn't you stop me—hey! Don't walk away! Where the hell are you going?!"
Issei waved lazily over his shoulder, already reaching for the doorknob.
"Both you and my master… selfish bastards," Hiro muttered, falling back against his pillow with a tired, pain-filled groan.
'His master?'
Issei thought, slightly intrigued.
When he opened the door to leave, he came face to face with a tall, imposing young man with silver hair that fell messily over sharp, intelligent eyes. He wore a sleek black coat over a Kuoh Academy college uniform, and his presence alone seemed to suck the warmth out of the hallway. Issei met his piercing yellow eyes with a blank expression.
Hyoudou Issei stood face to face with Loup Garou.
…
'Must be a relative,' Issei concluded, not knowing Hiro's hair was dyed. He left the door ajar and walked past him. The entire time, their eyes were locked. For some reason Issei couldn't explain, his entire body tensed, even though the other person was just standing still. Issei finally broke the intense eye contact and turned towards the elevator.
"Hyakuban," a quiet voice murmured from behind him.
"?"
Issei stopped, glancing back. The silver-haired man was still standing motionless in front of the door.
'Number 100?'
Issei's eyes flicked to the room number of the infirmary on the wall. It read '53'.
'What a weirdo…'
Shaking his head, he made his way to the ground floor, the feeling of that intense gaze boring into his back the entire time.
*************
It was late, and he hardly saw anyone as he made his way to the school's entrance hall to change into his outdoor shoes. His mind still lingered on the strange encounter. He must be related to Hiro Satoru, Issei thought. Must have been waiting for me to leave so he could visit.
…It seemed someone was waiting for him, too.
Rias Gremory stood near the front doors, poised and elegant as ever.
"Issei-kun," she said, her voice soft. "I wanted to thank you."
"Senpai… Did you wait this whole time? You could have just visited the nurse's office…" Issei said, feeling suddenly self-conscious. Talking to someone this beautiful was daunting enough without wearing a tattered uniform that looked like it had gone through hell.
"You were asleep when I visited," she explained with a small smile. "The nurse was kind enough to inform me when you woke up."
"Oh…"
They walked together towards the front gate. The school grounds were deserted now, bathed in the cool light of the security lamps. Rias asked about his injuries, insisting, just as the nurse had, that he should go to a proper hospital. She even offered to cover the expenses. As their conversation continued, Issei felt some of the tension drain from his shoulders, even though the injuries were very much letting their presence known.
She was surprised to hear about his punishment.
"The Principal must hold a very favorable impression of you, Issei-kun…" she said thoughtfully, pausing for brief moment to peer into his eyes.
"Issei, would you like to join my club?"
"… Eh?"
That offer was a bombshell. At that moment, a myriad of possibilities and timelines flashed through Issei's head.
Matsuda's and Motohama's theory about other girls trying to date him just to keep him away from the club's goddesses (or tainting their beloved prince). He imagined a scenario in which the girl who chooses to sacrifice herself to protect her goddesses actually end up falling in love with him as in a cliche romance novel and she starts acting jealous because now she doesn't want him to fall for the girls in the Occult club and then —
A girl's laughter echoed through Issei's mind.
Break
'Yeah… as if,' he thought, the cynicism washing away the fantasy.
"I'm sorry, senpai," Issei apologized, bringing himself back to the present. "I'm already in a club now, with Hiro Satoru."
"Eh…?" Rias was visibly shocked by the revelation.
Issei quickly explained that the Principal had proposed the idea before, and he'd simply used it as a bargaining chip to lighten his punishment.
"But… are you sure? It's Hiro Satoru, after all…" Rias asked, her voice laced with genuine concern.
"I talked to him in the nurse's office. He seems more reasonable than I thought…"
Rias blinked. 'Weren't they at each other's throat just a few hours ago?'
However, for some reason, hearing Issei's calm conclusion about Hiro—a thorn that had been in her side for over a year—made her feel as if a heavy burden had been lifted from her shoulders. There were still many things to worry about, but this felt like a refreshing, unexpected resolution.
"You can still try for a double membership," she offered. "Two of my members are also in the kendo club."
'Ah, the kendo girls, huh?' Issei thought, picturing Katase and Murayama.
"Just give it some thought," Rias said, and then, to his surprise, she gave him a small, formal bow.
"I-I will. You don't need to bow."
"No, this is for my gratitude," she insisted, her expression sincere.
Issei was suddenly reminded of the original deal he'd made with her. The chaos with Raynare and Hiro had been so all-consuming that he'd almost forgotten how this whole situation had started.
"Let's go to the amusement park, like we promised, after your suspension ends," Rias said, her formal expression melting into a dazzling smile.
'… Grandpa in heaven, there is still hope.'
**************
**************
The infirmary was quiet, the smell of antiseptic lingering in the air. Hiro Satoru sat on the edge of a cot. Loup Garou stood before him, an imposing, silent figure.
"So," Garou finally said, his voice flat. "How did it go?"
Hiro paused, then let out a tired breath. "…I lost."
"... You don't look that upset for someone who lost."
A faint smirk tugged at Hiro's bruised lip. "Maybe it's because I gave it my everything."
Garou tilted his head, eyes narrowing faintly as if testing the weight of those words. "…And your gang? With a defeat like this..."
'It is probably over...'
Hiro looked down again, fingers flexing against the bandages. "...That's right. I… I don't really know what to do about that yet. Besides, I'm suspended for fifteen days. Maybe I'll use the time to figure things out." He sounded less like a plotting tyrant and more like a lost young man.
Garou gave a slow nod and turned to leave. At the door, he paused.
"You did well, Satoru."
The words were simple, almost offhand, but they lingered. Hiro froze, uncertain of what to do with the unfamiliar weight of acknowledgment. The very acknowledgment he desperately sought from his teacher for over an year. His mouth opened as if to respond, but no words came.
He only lowered his head again, sitting in silence. Just… quiet.
**************
**************
A figure sat hunched in the corner of a cramped, dimly lit room, the faint glow of a monitor reflecting off unwashed walls. The air was stale, thick with the scent of dust and neglect. The room had long since lost any sense of time. Curtains were drawn tight, the clock on the wall had stopped months ago. Days bled into nights without distinction—meals were left at the door, the curtains never opened, and silence had long since become a second skin.
In this stagnant routine, he had found a kind of numb comfort, a shield from the noise of the world outside. No expectations. No confrontations. Just the stillness of four walls and silence.
This was routine. Wake up. Stare at the screen. Eat. Sleep. Repeat.
The world outside no longer mattered.
However... tonight felt different. A strange restlessness stirred in his chest, like an itch he couldn't scratch. His body wouldn't settle, his hands tapped against the desk, his thoughts swirled faster than he was used to.
And as if to mirror his unsettled mood, there was chaos outside his door.
"Aizawa! Look at you, bruised all over—your uniform's torn!"
"I'm fine, Mom. Just let me take a bath."
"No, we're going to a clinic. This is serious!"
Their voices were louder than usual, filled with heat and panic. The house, normally so quiet, felt alive in a way it hadn't for a long time.
Something inside him shifted. Before he realized what he was doing, his body carried him to the door. His hand trembled slightly as it touched the knob.
Clink.
The lock slid open.
The commotion outside ceased instantly. Two pairs of eyes turned toward him, wide in shock.
"…Sora, were we… too loud?" his mother asked, her voice suddenly small, hesitant.
"Nii-chan…" his brother whispered.
The figure stood framed in the doorway, long hair hanging unkempt over his face. Slowly, he lifted his head, revealing a pair of tired but unmistakably sharp eyes.
For the first time in a very long while, Kagami Sora came out of his room.
**************
**************
After bidding farewell to Rias Gremory, Issei stopped by a local bakery. The owner, horrified by his bruised and battered state, nearly refused to serve him. So Issei quickly shoved his tattered blazer into his bag to avoid any more unwanted attention.
Ignoring the advice of both the nurse and Rias, he went straight home. His body had a natural, gifted resilience; it recovered faster than average.
As expected, the house was empty. His parents often disappeared in the late evenings, their lives a mystery he'd long since stopped trying to solve.
He indulged in the sweet cheesecake he'd bought, the sugar a small comfort after one hell of a day. He tossed his uniform shirt aside and collapsed into his gaming chair, which groaned under his weight. He was utterly, profoundly exhausted.
The events of the day replayed in his mind, but the highlight was undoubtedly the fight. It wasn't like the desperate struggle against Raynare, where a glaring power imbalance had forced him to use every dirty trick he knew. The fight with Hiro Satoru… had been a proper fight in Issei's book. A genuine challenge.
He raised a bruised fist into the air.
"I won…" he whispered, an unusual, exhilarating pump of adrenaline still in his system.
Beep.
His phone vibrated from inside his bag. He pulled it out to see two new messages.
The first was from the informant.
'Thank you for today.'
A corner of Issei's mouth twitched, almost forming a smile. But the second message made his jaw drop.
'Issei, they restored your account! Check your email!'
It was from Kevin Kennecky, his guild master.
"For real?!"
He scrambled to boot up his PC. It was true. The video Kevin had uploaded had gone viral in their game's community. Despite complaints about cheating, the sheer skill on display had won over the majority. The game company, likely seeing the publicity, had relented. Small details like that didn't matter. His account was back.
His hand reached for the mouse, the pointer hovering over the familiar game icon—
FREEZE
But his eyes froze.
Beneath it was the logs file of his teleportation attempts with the power Ophis had given him.
"I have given you what you need."
Her voice echoed in his head.
Why did Hyoudou Issei love video games?
The answer was because they were the closest thing to the exhilarating feeling of a real fight, he experienced. A conscious feeling of being something… beyond human.
However, he was once again reminded of today, as to how much it pales in comparison to the real deal.
He remembered his vow, the promise he'd made to himself. But that promise was made in a world where he assumed he was the strongest, where his talent was something no one could surpass.
But what about this new world? A world with supernatural beings? A world with humans like Hiro Satoru?
Issei felt the excitement rising. What if Ophis was just using him for her own entertainment? Fine. He would use her powers in turn. The prospect of getting stronger, of facing these new threats head-on, lit a fire in his chest.
Gulp.
He swallowed, as he moved the mouse pointer away from the video game icon and decisively double-clicked on the logs file, picking up right where he had left off. From the thirty-second attempt.
-------------------
Chapter 10: Bedlam
-------------------
Author's Note (Long Long Rambling): So, we did it. All caught up. Finally we completed the rewrite. Well, you can technically say that there were 11 chapters last time. But, I am going in a similar but quite diffferent direction this time with the next chapter. You will see. So at this point I can say, the rewrite has caught up with the original. So how was it? How was the rewrite?
Alright, so where was I the whole July and most of August? Remember, how I mentioned about the fanfiction channel thing? Pretty sure, you don't remember. Even I don't know on which chapter I said it. So I started working on the first video for that channel, cuz if you know how to make one. You can make 10. My idea was simple. I needed visuals, turn those visuals into looping video clips and add narration audio. For getting Issei's pictures, the best idea was to use an AI like Aingdiffusion with an Issei trained lora. Basically it gives me Issei's images. So images were a solved issue. I somehow solved the video clips issue through a website. SO I only needed the audio,which was the meat and potatoes of narration. This is where I got stuck for like a week, trying different AI models for my narration. I found a good quality AI called chatterbox AI and managed to get the voice I wanted. All of this took about a week into research. And... it said minimum requirements 4 GB vram. And I still could technically run it in my 4GB vram laptop... Yeah. 1700 seconds for a 5-10 second audio that is 60% always garbage. So, I calculated, I need to get a 3060 12 GB Vram PC built up from scratch.
Then started my PC building research rabbit hole and the rest of the month was just me searching for various ways to quickly earn cash so that I can buy this damn PC, SO that I can run this damn AI model, SO THAT I can make a narration for this story... Well at the end of July, I decided to start Job hunting like a normal person. I am a part time student so, working is exactly something I should do.
I wished I could just write a story for a video game and get a huge paycheck or something but hey we gotta start from basics. BUT THAT DOESN'T MEAN, I sit through 4 interviews, for a positon at customer support, just for them to say, 'we cannot proceed with this, cuz you are still technically a student,' even though they knew about it from the first interview.... I didn't crash out. And that's it... I am still job hunting.