High School DxD – "Shadow Level-Up!"
Kazuki Ren woke before dawn, the ceiling of his studio faintly luminous with city glow.
Numbers hovered in peripheral vision—private, silent, comforting—but he pushed them aside. Today he needed calm nerves and a clean uniform: Kuoh Academy's transfer orientation always herded newcomers into the spotlight, and he could already hear gossip engines revving about "the silver-haired heterochrome prince."
He left early, shadow‐soldier tucked invisibly in the apartment closet with strict mental orders to stay. Controlling the thing felt like bending an extra, ghost-cold limb; useful, but the effect on unsuspecting pedestrians would be catastrophic.
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Homeroom unfolded as predicted: introductions, squeals, Issei Hyoudou trying to high-five him for "saving that random kid yesterday," and Sensei's stern reminder that Kuoh had a dress code against colored contacts—aimed squarely at Kazuki's mismatched eyes. He bowed, apologizing for genetics.
During lunch break, a sealed card slid through his desk lattice. Crimson wax, Gremory crest. "Tea after classes. Old school building."
He smoothed the envelope into his notebook, aware of curious stares. Even the faculty knew the Occult Club's invitations carried weight.
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Twilight painted long amber bars across corridor windows as he approached the refurbished Victorian structure. Inside, warm lamplight and sandalwood greeted him. Rias waited at the hearth, chessboard open, rook already missing—Issei's seat, he guessed.
"Welcome," she said. Her voice dipped into something between hostess politeness and noble indulgence. "Sit. Tell me how you're settling."
He kept answers mild: apartment fine, classes easy, town pleasant. Politeness masked study; every tilt of her head, every flick of Akeno's violet eyes from the sideboard, fed his growing dossier on devil social cues.
Kiba entered with a sheaf of papers. "Patrol routes." He offered Kazuki a spar tomorrow, "wooden swords only." The challenge gleamed like polished maple; Kazuki accepted with a nod that drew a flash of competitive delight from the knight.
Koneko plunked a plate of macarons beside him and, without breaking stare, pushed the lemon one forward—as if testing whether he'd recognize the best flavor. He chose lemon; she gave a small, nearly invisible nod. Social victory tallied, even if only he counted.
Tea ended with Rias assigning pairings for tonight's stray-devil sweep. Koneko and Issei to the east warehouses, Kiba solo along the riverside, and Kazuki with Akeno through the residential back-streets. It felt like a trust test wrapped in a lightning strike.
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Night air buzzed with insects and the faint static of Akeno Himejima's suppressed aura. She walked half a step ahead, parasol closed and slung like a staff, yukata-length skirt swishing around thighs that drew more sidewalk attention than any devil-sense ever could.
Kazuki matched pace, ears tuned for supernatural rustle. Focus—not on perfume hints of jasmine, not on how moonlight slid along her calves—focus on the mission.
"How are you finding Kuoh?" she asked at last, tone honey over high voltage.
He answered honestly: "Quiet, so far. But secrets hum under every street."
Her chuckle cracked like a far-off spark. "You hear humming?"
"Figure of speech."
She stopped beneath a streetlamp whose bulb flickered stroboscopic gold. "And what do you hear now?"
There—roof-line clatter, wings not bird-born. A scrawny, imp-like stray devil scuttled along chimney bricks, eyes beading red. The System window tagged it Threat: Minor, but XP was XP.
Akeno gestured. "Yours." She clearly wanted to gauge him.
Kazuki vaulted the fence into the narrow garden below, rolling to soften landing. The devil leapt, talons raking shingles; he seized a trash-can lid as shield, met the dive, and redirected momentum with a twisting parry learned in backyard fencing matches of a previous life. Talons glanced off metal, showering sparks. He dropped low, sweeping its legs; it hit the cobbles.
One precise heel-kick to the throat silenced its hiss. Purple motes spiraled. He resisted looking at the XP pop-up until he'd straightened, dusted trousers, and noted Akeno's approving smile from the lamp halo. Only then did he glance sideways—+22 XP. Progress steady.
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They resumed patrol until midnight, no further strays. At dismissal, Rias praised efficiency, eyes lingering on Kazuki's undamaged blazer. "Tomorrow, kendo court. Show me your form."
He bowed, excused himself, and walked home beneath constellations he'd memorized in both worlds. Confidence hummed—dangerous, addictive. Strength climbed one invisible tick at a time, and so far no one suspected the depth of it.
Inside his apartment, he let the shadow-soldier emerge. It knelt wordlessly. He studied its outline—featureless, humanoid, loyal. A fragment of yesterday's monster now bound to his will. He wondered how many the world would let him keep before noticing. Answers would come soon; questions, he kept to himself.
Kazuki fell asleep with cherry-tree fragrance drifting through the cracked window and the faint glow of an unseen status bar ticking toward its next revelation.
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