Chapter 18
The afternoon sun fell over Kuoh Academy, bathing the sports courts in a warm glow. A gentle breeze slipped through the gym windows, carrying with it the distant murmur of students still wandering the hallways.
Inside, the basketball court was nearly empty, save for the rhythmic sound of a ball bouncing against the floor and the metallic echo of a hoop receiving a shot.
"Three points, nya!" exclaimed Kuroka, raising both arms with a feline, mocking smile.
Izayoi tilted her head, holding the ball under her arm. Her purple eyes showed not the slightest effort: no sweat on her forehead, no heavy breathing. Her body, fueled by nanomachines, was incapable of fatigue like that of others.
"Is that the best you can do?" she replied with disdain, though deep down she didn't care about winning or losing. For her, this game was just an excuse to kill time.
Kuroka, with her typical smile, answered.
"Big words for someone who's losing, nya."
Izayoi smiled with a mischievous gleam in her gaze. She could have ended the match in seconds, with an impossible score to catch up to. But she had decided to give Kuroka the advantage. Pretending to be at a disadvantage made it minimally interesting, a fabricated challenge to keep from being too bored.
"Fine… I'll let you dream a little longer," she said, tossing the ball with a quick bounce before running toward the basket. Her movements were clean, so precise they seemed choreographed. With a light jump, she scored effortlessly.
Kuroka crossed her arms, puffing her cheeks.
"Nyaaa… cheater. You didn't fake anything there."
Izayoi shrugged.
"What do you want me to do? If I play seriously, you win zero times. If I let you win, it's pointless. So better I do it halfway."
The comment drew a light laugh from Kuroka.
"You're insufferable, but you've got style."
From the gym entrance, a group of devils from Sona and Rias' nobility watched in silence. They whispered among themselves, uneasy, unable to ignore the sense of power radiating from both girls even in something as mundane as a school game.
Izayoi noticed them, and with a mocking smile shouted:
"And you lot? Never seen a game before?"
The devils averted their eyes instantly, as if caught doing something improper.
Kuroka laughed and gently patted Izayoi's head.
"Leave them, nya. They're nervous because they know they can't do anything against you."
Izayoi brushed her hand away with annoyance, though her lips curved into a faint smile.
"Hmph… boring."
The breeze slipped through the windows again, swaying the hoop's net slightly. For a moment, everything seemed as normal as any day at Kuoh Academy.
Too normal.
[•••]
The gate opened with a soft metallic sound. The same old house, with its pale walls and the garden his mother cared for so diligently.
Issei took a deep breath before entering. The smell of miso soup and grilled fish came from the kitchen, that familiar aroma he had missed so many times.
"I'm home…" he said in a voice that sounded firmer than he remembered.
In the dining room, Gorou Hyoudou lifted his eyes from the newspaper. Surprise turned instantly into joy.
"Issei!" he exclaimed, standing and walking quickly toward him. "Finally home, son."
Behind him, Miki emerged with her apron still on and a ladle in her hand. She froze for a few seconds, as if not quite recognizing him. Her eyes scanned her son from head to toe: straighter posture, calm steps, a serene expression.
"Issei…" she whispered, bringing a hand to her chest. "You're… different."
The boy smiled, a little awkwardly at first.
"I know I was gone for a while… and I could only call once in a while. I went to train, to… grow up a little. I didn't want to come back as the same old me."
Miki stared at him intently. The woman who had so often sighed over her son's perverted habits now saw him differently: Issei's body language wasn't nervous or clumsy; there was serenity in his gestures, confidence in the way he held her gaze.
Gorou clapped him firmly on the shoulder, nearly shaking the backpack he carried.
"You've changed, yes. But you're still our son," he said with a proud smile. "Welcome back, Issei."
Miki set the ladle down on the table and hugged him tightly, burying her face in his shoulder.
"I'm glad… I'm so glad you decided to grow," she murmured with a touch of relief. "Just promise me you won't lose that maturity, even if you go back to being the same cheerful fool as before."
Issei chuckled softly, but didn't move away from her embrace.
"I promise."
The family remained like that, united under the warm light of the dining room. For the Hyoudous, it was simply their son's return. For Issei, however, it was a starting point: coming back not as a distracted boy, but as someone prepared to bear a much greater weight.
[•••]
The afternoon sun bathed Kuoh Academy's courtyards in golden light. In a more secluded corner near the trees, two figures sat on the grass.
Kuroka yawned lazily, lying back with her hands behind her head. In front of her, Shirone kept the same serious expression as always.
"Nya~ Shirone, you still look too stiff," said Kuroka playfully, stretching like a satisfied cat. "You should learn to relax a little more."
"I am relaxed," Shirone replied without changing her expression, though she looked away with a slight blush.
Kuroka let out a mischievous giggle and leaned forward, pinching her sister's cheek softly.
"You don't fool me. You were just as mischievous as me when we were little. Remember? You followed me everywhere, even when I chased butterflies or climbed trees."
Shirone's lips pressed together. For an instant, the image of a small child appeared in her mind, laughing with the same boundless energy as her older sister. But that sweet memory soon darkened, as if the echo of that childhood were incomplete.
"That was before…" she murmured without raising her gaze. "Before you left me behind."
Kuroka's purr fell silent. Her smile tightened, though she tried to mask it with playfulness.
"Shirone…"
"Don't call me like that as if we were that close," Shirone retorted coldly, though her ears twitched slightly.
Silence fell between them. Kuroka didn't push further. She simply looked at her with a mixture of tenderness and guilt, as if her words were stuck in her throat.
From a distance, Izayoi watched silently. She sat on the low wall bordering the sports field, legs swinging carelessly. Her purple eyes seemed sharper than usual, as if dissecting the scene.
She crossed her arms, tilting her head in annoyance. It wasn't just boredom she felt. There was something in that sisterly tension that felt uncomfortably familiar, though she refused to acknowledge it.
"Tsk… troublesome," she muttered, turning her gaze to the orange-streaked sky.
Even so, her ears didn't miss Kuroka's forced laugh or Shirone's sigh, as if their broken bond were slowly trying to mend itself under the sun's rays filtering through the leaves.
[•••]
The evening bell echoed through Kuoh Academy, marking the end of activities. Gradually, students began to leave in groups, laughing, chatting about exams and plans for the next day. The atmosphere was that of any ordinary school, light and carefree.
But within the walls, beyond the empty classrooms, another reality lingered in silence.
In the central courtyard, Sona Sitri stood with her peerage, quietly reviewing some papers and lists. Her serene expression contrasted with the swiftness of her hands as she gave instructions. At her side, Tsubaki discreetly coordinated the few remaining students to ensure they returned home safely.
A little further away, Rias Gremory remained with Akeno, Kiba, and Koneko. The redhead calmly watched the last groups leave through the main gate, though her eyes shone with a tension that left no doubt: she was ready for whatever might come that night.
On a bench in the garden, Izayoi Saigou and Kuroka observed the scene with a carefree air. Izayoi had her arms crossed and one foot propped on the bench's backrest, as if none of it concerned her. Kuroka, meanwhile, played idly with a Rubik's cube, waiting for whatever might happen at any moment within Kuoh Academy's grounds.
"How quiet the school gets when everyone leaves, nya~," murmured Kuroka with a sly smile.
"More boring, you mean," Izayoi replied flatly, gazing at the sunset's red sky. "But I guess it's better that way."
Little by little, the youthful voices faded. The main gate closed with a metallic echo, leaving inside only those destined to face what was coming: the two heiresses and their peerages, alongside the most unexpected duo, Izayoi and Kuroka.
The calm seemed absolute. A calm that was only a breath before the storm.
Night had fallen over Kuoh. The sky was covered with dark clouds that hid the moon, and the wind carried an unsettling silence.
From above, like winged shadows, the Fallen Angels descended upon the city. Their spears of light flared and dimmed like torches of war, briefly illuminating faces marked by arrogance and bloodlust. At the front, Kokabiel, eyes burning with fanatical warlust, led the formation with a predator's smile.
But the moment they set foot on the Academy grounds, something felt strange. Too strange.
The streets around were deserted, not a single student, not a single human soul in sight. And beyond the walls, an invisible barrier rose like a colossal dome, enveloping the school in a barely perceptible glow. No city noise could pass through it. No curious eyes could see what was about to unfold.
One of the Fallen muttered uneasily:
"It's like… they were waiting for us."
Kokabiel spread his wings with disdain, raising his voice.
"And what of it? Anticipated or not, blood will flow all the same."
Then, an overwhelming pressure unfurled from the central courtyard. A demonic aura rose like a dark ocean, so dense several Fallen instinctively stepped back.
From the shadows, Rias Gremory emerged. Her crimson hair whipped in the wind of her own power, her eyes blazing with iron determination. There was no fear in her, no nerves, only absolute certainty that crushed the air.
With every step she took, the ground trembled faintly. She was the direct descendant of House Gremory, and she proved it without a word.
When she stopped before the enemy, her voice rang clear and powerful:
"You picked the wrong enemy."
Her power of destruction danced around her like crimson flames, spreading in waves that made the barrier crackle.
Rias looked at each of them, face calm, gaze unforgiving.
"And you will not leave here alive."
In a neighboring building, protected behind the barrier covering the Academy, three figures watched the confrontation from above.
Alexander Gremory, arms crossed and expression firm, followed his younger sister's every move. At his side, Esdeath Leviathan, seated with legs crossed and the poise of an empress, let the bluish glow of her icy power decorate her silhouette. A little further back, leaning against the wall with his bare torso and tense muscles as always, stood Sairaorg Bael, wearing a frank smile.
From there, they watched as Rias Gremory walked boldly toward the Fallen, her aura of destruction spreading like an unstoppable tide.
Sairaorg broke the silence first, his tone full of the brutal honesty that characterized him:
"Not bad. That look… that poise… that's how someone carrying the title of a King should walk."
Esdeath tilted her head, her blue eyes shining like crystals. A fine, amused smile curved her lips as she observed the young Gremory.
"She's definitely no longer the insecure girl who feared mistakes. She's changed… and I like what I see."
Alexander remained silent a few seconds longer before finally nodding, pride reflected in his violet eyes.
"That's the path, Rias. It doesn't matter if someday an enemy appears that you can't defeat. As long as you keep moving forward, as long as you never retreat, as long as each step makes you stronger… you will always be enough."
His words lingered in the air, while ahead Rias' crimson hair waved like a war banner.
On an elevated corner of the courtyard, where the shadow of a tree spread like a cloak, Izayoi Saigou and Kuroka watched the display of power.
Rias Gremory advanced with iron determination, while the Fallen Angels unsheathed their spears of light. The tension was palpable, a prelude to war.
Izayoi, however, barely stifled a yawn. She raised a finger to clean her ear lazily, her expression that of someone watching a show failing to meet her expectations.
"Tsk… and here I thought their leader, this Kokabiel, would be someone interesting." Her tone was dripping with mockery, not a shred of respect. "Turns out he's too weak to be any fun."
Her purple eyes gleamed coldly, before she turned away as if already losing interest.
"Better for Rias to handle these intruders. This is her territory, not mine."
Beside her, Kuroka let out a playful giggle, lazily swishing her feline tail.
"Nyaa~… you're right. Besides, it looks like Princess Gremory wants to prove she doesn't need help."
Izayoi crossed her arms, tilting her head.
"Hmph. That's her problem. I'm not dirtying my hands with trash this weak."
Meanwhile, on the open field, Rias' crimson aura grew like a storm, ready to devour the light of the Fallen.
[•••]
The air cracked with a crimson blast. Rias Gremory's aura of destruction spread like a heartbeat of pure annihilation, forcing the Fallen to step back instinctively.
Kokabiel grinned fiercely, spreading his black wings and raising a spear of light larger than himself.
"That's more like it! Show me what the spoiled Gremory can do!"
But what Rias showed was neither weakness nor doubt. It was the echo of her training.
A swift, almost feline movement carried her aside. Alexander's discipline was etched into every step: absolute control of the terrain, steady breathing, and eyes that left no room for error. Her brother had taught her to fight with a cool head, to use strategy as a weapon just as lethal as any demonic power.
An instant later, her arm rose, and crystalline ice spears emerged around her, glinting under the moonlight. The mark of Esdeath Leviathan was engraved in that technique: ice magic molded with precision, combined with a predator's instinct.
Kokabiel shattered the spears with a swipe, but had no time to savor victory. Rias was already upon him, her hands wrapped in pure destructive energy. She struck against his own spear of light, and the explosion thundered across the barrier covering the Academy.
From the cloud of energy emerged Rias' silhouette once more, advancing without pause.
Her bare fist slammed into the ground, creating a shockwave that destabilized the nearest Fallen. That was the mark of Sairaorg Bael: brute strength pushing through with pure determination, without excuses or concessions.
The ground shook, and Rias Gremory's figure stood tall in the center of the devastation, her breathing steady, her gaze burning with resolve.
"I'm not the spoiled girl you thought. I am Rias Gremory. And you, Kokabiel…" her voice rang like a searing blade. "You are no match for me."
The Fallen's smile tightened for the first time.
[•••]
While the barrier rang with Rias and Kokabiel's clash, Izayoi Saigou's purple eyes narrowed, as if something else had caught her attention.
An invisible pressure, different from the Fallen's, vibrated from the edges of the forest surrounding the Academy. They weren't ordinary devils. Nor angels, nor exorcists. It was something else.
"Hmph." Izayoi clicked her tongue, rising from the wall where she'd been reclining.
In a blink, her silhouette vanished.
The wind barely stirred as she reappeared among the trees, facing the source of those presences. Her face, usually indifferent, showed the faintest shift in expression. A raised eyebrow, a flicker of surprise.
They were two children.
The first, a boy with white hair falling in messy strands. Small black horns protruded from his head, half streaked with red. His red eyes, with sharp, narrow pupils, looked at her with feline calm. He wore a simple athletic outfit: black shorts to the knee, a navy T-shirt, an open black tracksuit jacket, and black sneakers with white soles.
At his side, the figure was the perfect contrast, like night beside fire. A girl with long jet-black hair and equally dark, expressionless eyes like a bottomless well. She wore a one-piece black dress with purple accents and ruffles at the hem, paired with black Mary Jane shoes. Her bearing was too solemn, too refined for someone her age.
Both lifted their heads at the same time, as if they had been waiting for her. Their gazes locked with Izayoi's—intense, dangerous, hiding a power that belied their childlike appearance.
Izayoi frowned.
"Tsk… Don't mess with me. You're no simple kids."
The tension thickened in the forest air.