5 weeks into Spring break
Toshio perspective
The air was still, cool with the lingering chill that clung to Kuoh during early spring mornings. The breeze carried a crisp bite as it rustled through the fully awakened trees, their branches budding with new growth. The forest floor was soft and damp from the thaw, dotted with patches of wildflowers and streaks of fresh green. I sat cross-legged on the edge of the forest, where the dirt bore faded magic scorch marks from earlier tests. A wide formation circle glowed faintly in front of me, drawn in layered lines of faint blue and flickering red, like embers resisting the morning chill. My eyes were closed, breathing slow as I concentrated.
Kuroka was sleeping in my lap.
She'd climbed into it without ceremony about an hour in, the familiar warmth of her weight oddly grounding, even as I layered complex formulas across the circle. Her tail flicked every so often, brushing against my wrist. She was pretending to nap, probably, but I didn't mind. I'd been at this for nearly two hours.
The goal was elegant in its simplicity: a fire spell. But not the kind that would impress a crowd at a festival or light a cigarette in a pinch. Not the garden-variety devil's fire or even the mundane physics of a match. I wanted violence. I wanted chemical explosiveness, a true weaponized reaction.
There are several types of fire. I remembered the classifications well: Class A for organic solids like wood or paper, Class C for energized electrical sources, Class D for combustible metals, Class K for cooking oils and fats, and Class B for flammable liquids like gasoline and hydrogen. I was interested in that last one.
My previous spell had been basic, based on Class A—burning spiritual fuel in a pattern meant to mimic kindling and oxygen draw. But my new idea? It was Class B mixed with something entirely outside conventional classification.
What I was trying now required simulating raw elements, forming them into a chemical compound in the form of the simplest alkyne, taking the oxygen out of the air to fuel the exothermic reaction, then igniting it. From there, it had to be formed into a projectile in some way, because as soon as it was ignited it would burn too quick to reach the target. Then compress it into a launchable state with barrier magic, stabilize the shell long enough for delivery, and finally detonate on impact.
And all of that had to be done without the circle destabilizing. As well as the rest. Writing out the chemistry was easy. But I had to translate that into runic-based magic circles.
Needless to say, it wasn't going great.
I layered a smaller sequence just beneath the primary circle, tracing the elemental formula for acetylene with my finger in the air—C2H2, a volatile alkyne with a triple bond—locking each point in place with a whisper of reiryoku. The oxygen draw glowed, stable. I began layering the barrier containment over top…
…and a rune slipped.
The circle shuddered. I caught it too late.
A fireball the size of a grapefruit popped into existence between my palms, whooshed straight up, and dissipated in the night air with a sound that was somehow both satisfying and mortifying. It was loud enough to make the birds in the canopy a hundred meters away startle from their perches, and I could feel the heat on my face even as I jerked backward, arms up defensively.
I really hoped no one reported that.
Kuroka jolted upright in my lap, fur puffing slightly. She looked up at me with wide golden eyes, blinking slowly. Then she narrowed them. She didn't laugh—not aloud anyway. But her whiskers twitched.
"Sorry about that, I woke you up huh." I at least gave her a sheepish look.
She gave me the most feline expression I'd seen on her since we met. Head tilted, pupils narrowed, tail curled around her paws. The cat equivalent of: you okay, dumbass?
But beneath it, something else lingered in her gaze. Interest? Curiosity? Suspicion?
I couldn't quite tell. Her eyes held something too sharp for a regular cat. Some shade of insight I couldn't parse.
So I did what any reasonable human would do.
I scratched behind her ears.
She blinked once, then again. Then flopped back into my lap like nothing happened, purring like a tiny engine.
"Careful," I said quietly, barely above a whisper. "You're gonna get me attached. I'll have to take you home with me."
It was meant as a joke—dry, harmless, tossed to the night with a smirk and a scratch behind the ears. But Kuroka stiffened, just for a fraction of a second. A micro-flinch, the kind you only catch if you're looking right at her and ready for it. She froze mid-purr, whiskers quivering, and for a heartbeat her whole body seemed to hover between tension and release.
Then, as if nothing happened, she melted again into my lap. The vibrating growl resumed, even deeper than before. She practically hummed with contentment.
Cats aren't supposed to understand human speech. Kitty kat Kuroka definitely wasn't going to be winning any acting awards.
The sun had dipped behind the trees. Dusk had deepened the cold, and pale frost clung to the low brush like a creeping tide. The only light came from the scattered glint of ice crystals under the moonlight.
That was enough for tonight. The sun had dropped below the hills, and a creeping tide of frost had reclaimed every footprint I'd left in the snow.
I intended on it being a joke, but then I thought, why not?
I scooped her up, careful not to jostle her too much. She squirmed a little in my arms but didn't leap away. I could feel a light resistance in her muscles—like she wanted to object but wasn't sure how to commit.
Too slow.
Several flashes later.
My house welcomed us with familiar silence. I stepped onto the tatami inside and set her gently down. She didn't bolt. Instead, she stretched luxuriously, tail flicking as she prowled toward the kitchen like she owned the place. How did she even know her way around here?
She hopped up on my kitchen counter and stared at me, then looked at the stove, then back at me.
"Expecting dinner, are we?" I chuckled, opening the refrigerator. "I suppose I did kidnap you from your usual hunting grounds." I doubted she actually hunted mice there.
Her eyes followed me intently as I pulled out a fresh salmon fillet I'd been saving. It was high-quality stuff—deep pink, marbled with fat, the kind you'd serve at a nice restaurant. I'd been planning to cook it tomorrow, but this seemed like a better use.
I prepared it simply—salt, a touch of mirin, a splash of soy. As I worked, Kuroka watched from her perch on the counter, tail swishing with what I could only interpret as anticipation. Her golden eyes tracked every movement of my hands.
"You know," I said conversationally as I heated the pan, "most cats would be freaking out in a new environment. But you seem right at home."
She blinked slowly, that classic feline dismissal.
When the salmon was done—crisp-skinned, medium-rare in the center—I plated it carefully and set it on the counter for her. She carefully approached the dish, sniffing delicately before taking a small, exploratory bite.
She melted. Practically draped herself over the plate, ears flicking in satisfaction.
"You're welcome," I said. She didn't even look up. Was I spoiling her?
And if I was, I had a feeling it was going to get worse. I couldn't bring myself to mind though. Her company has been enjoyable, despite being the supernatural world's most wanted criminal. Who knew?
After cleaning up, I changed into sleepwear and sat down cross-legged in the middle of my room. Cultivation time. Rank 9 now. Just one more until...
I didn't know. The system hadn't said what happened at Rank 10. But I could feel it, like a thread tugging on my soul. Whatever it was, it was going to be important. Plus, whenever other skills hit 10, I usually got something.
Kuroka padded into the room while I sank into meditation. She settled herself in my lap again without a word. The warmth of her body, the quiet hum of her purring... it helped relax me faster. I was now a firm believer in the healing power of the 25-150 hertz purr.
Two hours passed. My reiryoku pulsed stronger now, threads of it circulating through my spiritual veins, reinforcing the body I'd spent months building. Finally, I let go. Instead of pulling another all nighter, I figured I should go to sleep. It had been a few weeks after all.
I undressed down to my briefs as normal, and laid down in bed, exhaling slowly.
Kuroka jumped up onto the mattress a moment later, curling up against my side. I felt her weight settle near my ribs. Her fur was so soft.
"See," I murmured, eyes closed. "Told you I'd take you home."
She didn't respond. Obviously. She was a cat. At least she was trying (and failing) to be.
"I'd say this could be your home, but..."
She tensed, almost like in disappointment.
"...I plan on moving soon. So the new place can be your home if you want. You'd be free to come and go, of course."
She lifted her head. Looked up at me. I met her eyes in the dim light.
Did she really not realize most people didn't talk to cats like this?
She nudged closer. Pressed against my side more firmly. Then let out a long breath through her nose, and went still.
I wrapped an arm around her.
I had a cute pet now. A totally not dangerous, no strings attached, low maintenance house cat.
I'm sure she ignored my snort of amusement.
XXX
Last week of Spring break
Toshio Perspective
I came out of cultivation slowly, my senses returning one layer at a time. The warmth in my lap was gone.
Kuroka wasn't there anymore.
Not unusual. She disappeared all the time, sometimes for a day, sometimes for an hour. It had been a surprisingly natural rhythm, her coming and going as she pleased. Still, I opened my eyes and looked around the room. Empty. I stretched, yawned, and rubbed my eyes.
My house was quiet. Frost lined the edges of the windows, soft morning light slipping through into pale sheets across the floor. I got dressed and made breakfast. Simple—rice, egg, grilled fish. No salmon this time.
I had just finished washing my plate when a knock came at the door.
I wasn't expecting anyone.
I dried my hands and walked to the door, opening it cautiously.
Standing there was a woman I had never met in person before but recognized immediately.
Grayfia Lucifuge.
Her silver hair fell in long twin braids over her chest, and her outfit was surprisingly casual—deep purple tank top, baggy cardigan, snug jeans, and boots. She was beautiful in that cold, untouchable sort of way. Except…she wasn't wearing her uniform. That threw me off.
"Hello," I said.
She nodded politely. "Good morning. I am Grayfia Lucifuge. Queen to the Satan Lucifer, Sirzechs Gremory. May I come in?"
I stepped aside and let her through. She moved with quiet, formal grace despite her appearance. Her aura was calm, composed, and heavy.
"To what do I owe the honor?"
"I am here on behalf of Lady Rias. She asked me to assist you with two matters: setting up a formal bank account under your name for the sale of your design patents, and—if you wish it—help you begin the process of purchasing a home."
My brows lifted. I hadn't expected that to be handled this quickly.
"I was wondering how that was going to work," I said. I gave her a slight bow. "Thank you, truly. I'm ready when you are."
We didn't linger. A sleek black luxury car was pulled up in front of the building—clearly Gremory-funded, judging by the subtle clan crest worked into the chrome trim. Grayfia opened the door for me, and I slid inside, settling into the plush leather as she joined me. We drove quietly through Kuoh, heading toward the city center.
The bank was everything I expected from a high-end financial institution—marble floors, brass fixtures, and the kind of hushed atmosphere that made you whisper without thinking about it. Grayfia handled everything with the efficiency of someone who'd done this countless times before. She produced documents I didn't even know existed, spoke in financial terms that went over my head, and somehow managed to make the entire process feel routine despite the fact that I was apparently now worth several million yen.
"The patents for your reactor designs have generated significant interest," she explained as we sat in a private office overlooking the city. "Three separate companies have made offers, and the Gremory family's business connections have ensured favorable terms."
I stared at the numbers on the paperwork. It was more money than I'd ever imagined having. "This is... substantial."
"Indeed. Lady Rias was quite pleased with the results." Grayfia's expression remained professionally neutral, but I caught a hint of something that might have been approval. "She also instructed me to inform you that this is merely the first payment. Ongoing royalties will continue as the designs are implemented."
The account setup took another hour, involving more signatures than seemed reasonable and several phone calls to verify my identity. When we finally left the bank, I felt oddly disconnected from reality. The numbers in my account seemed abstract, too large to process.
"Now for the second matter," Grayfia said as we settled back into the car.
Grayfia Perspective
Toshio Amano carried himself with a composure that Grayfia had only seen in men thrice his age—or, more precisely, in high-level devils who had spent centuries mastering the art of self-presentation. The boy, well not a boy in any conventional sense, stood opposite her in the cavernous marble lobby of Kuoh First Banking, calmly inspecting the Gremory-branded platinum card as if it were just another tool for his collection rather than an emblem of clandestine supernatural favor.
She watched him, careful not to let her evaluation show on her face. At first, she had expected the meeting to be transactional: a favor for Rias, an inconvenience for herself, a day spent shepherding an ambitious and possibly power-hungry young human through the arcana of supernatural finance. Instead, he had surprised her at every turn. When she introduced herself at his doorstep—out of uniform, as per Sirzechs-sama's direct order, he'd not only recognized her instantly, but also refrained from gawking or stammering. Had Rias told him about her? He'd simply met her gaze, nodded, and let her into his home with the quiet efficiency of a professional dealing with a contractor, his posture neither deferential nor challenging.
He seemed unusually mature for a 15/16 year old.
Grayfia's own intuition—finely tuned by decades as the Gremory household's chief administrator—told her that Toshio Amano was not simply clever. He was, in fact, unusually self-contained. In the last hour alone, he had weathered three rounds of paperwork, a credit check that would have sent most mortals into a panic, and the predatory attention of three bank managers, all without the faintest sign of nerves.
Sirzechs-sama had told her to expect something unusual, and so far, he was right.
He had also tasked her with evaluating Toshio personally. Observe him and get a sense for his temperament. Report everything back. Rias' involvement, her proximity, and her physical affection toward him had made Sirzechs-sama suspicious and concerned.
"There's a realtor that the Gremory family knows," she said as the car pulled away from the bank. "They specialize in working with supernatural clients. I can introduce you."
He nodded, his gaze on the snow-smeared cityscape outside. "Seems convenient. Thank you."
He said it with a tone that was neither over-eager nor dismissive. Just calm, measured, grounded.
They rode in relative silence for a few minutes. Doing this much for a human, even as a favor to Rias, was asking a lot of a high-class devil like her.
So far, the boy seemed grateful, and hadn't asked for anything further. He apparently knew about Rias' heritage and the power of the Gremory clan. And yet he didn't try to once take advantage of this, or of Lady Rias. This elevated his character in her eyes.
Grayfia had also studied his stride, his posture, and the way his energy moved subtly beneath the surface. It wasn't magic. It wasn't ki. Sirzechs-sama had been right; it was something else entirely, something she didn't yet have the vocabulary for.
Strictly speaking, according to his aura, he didn't seem that powerful, but she couldn't help but feel like he's hiding, or more impressively concealing, a lot if not most of his strength. He would have to be monitored, especially if he was going to continue to spend time around Rias and her peerage.
They rode in companionable silence. In her experience, most humans (especially those newly exposed to the supernatural) couldn't resist the urge to fill the air with nervous chatter. Toshio, by contrast, let the silence settle comfortably between them, as if he understood that words, like currency, lost value when spent too freely.
"Is the realtor you're referring to actually involved in the supernatural world?" he asked, gaze still forward.
"Yes," she replied, aware of the test implied by the question. "They operate as a shell business, and their clients are mostly nonhuman. All arrangements are sealed by contract—magical and legal. Although, the human clients they do have are few and far between."
"Can the property be fitted with custom modifications?" he asked, voice as even as a metronome. "Like a large reinforced basement that's magic-resistant, but also physically resilient."
"That can be arranged," she said. "But the cost will be significant."
"If I need more money, I can submit more design work. I have more ideas."
Grayfia turned her head slightly. If I may ask, why not pursue
your engineering work in a more conventional manner? With your intellect, you could become one of the most influential minds of this era, even without supernatural sponsorship."
He paused.
Then answered without looking at her. "Because my heart isn't in it. I spent the first part of my life chasing academics and achievements."
He turned to look at her, and in that moment Grayfia saw not a child prodigy or a devil's pawn, but an old soul—tired, but still stubbornly upright. It made her uncomfortable, and she didn't know why.
"And it left me with nothing. Now, I want to use my strength for something else." Odd thing to say considering his age. Grayfia made a mental note to have someone investigate that a little more.
"I don't need prestige," he said. "I want to build something that lasts. Live my life for what matters. I want to keep the people I care about safe and close to me."
It was almost… touching. Grayfia considered herself immune to sentimentality, but something about his delivery made her want to believe him.
"And just as important, to stop things like Ghom. To prevent the suffering that creatures like that cause. Not just for humans. For anyone."
Grayfia processed that in silence. "I see."
And she did.
Toshio Amano was a noble boy. Foolishly so, maybe. But noble.
And likely dangerous.
If he ever did become strong enough to back up his ideals—and Rias was right about his potential—then he would be someone the entire supernatural world would have to pay attention to.
Not necessarily an enemy. But a variable.
They arrived at the realtor's office. He handled the meeting with ease. He was respectful, deliberate, and thorough.
He produced blueprints for his ideal residence, somehow retrieving them from a pocket that should not have held anything larger than a cell phone. Grayfia recognized the spatial compression immediately, but again, he did not comment on it. Instead, he laid out his requirements with surgical precision:
Two floors, four bedrooms, four bathrooms. A modern kitchen with high-end appliances (who needed a blast chiller?) and redundancies for power failures. Most importantly, a subterranean level that spanned the entire footprint of the house—partitioned into a reinforced gym, a sparring arena, a library, and a secure vault with multi-layered magical and structural shielding.
The realtor quoted a price that would have made most mortals faint: 900 million yen ($6.15 million). Over half of that was just the basement and it's enchantments.
He paid it on the spot.
No hesitation.
The designs he had submitted had already earned him over five billion yen ($34.14 million). If this human kept selling designs like those others, he would never have to worry about money again. Yet despite this, he settled for a modest house.
It was almost comedic how much he underspent, compared to what the devils of Rias' household would consider appropriate. The house he was buying was nothing compared to Rias' current manor, which was at least three times larger and built to house a full peerage of 16.
This house was clearly designed for one.
Once everything was arranged, we stood outside the building, early Spring sun catching on snow-flecked pavement. Small snow flurries even in March. Human world weather had a mind of its own at times. She glanced at him.
"Toshio."
He turned his head.
"I understand you and Lady Rias have grown... close."
He said nothing. Just nodded.
"You may not be aware, but Lady Rias is betrothed. To Riser Phenex."
"Okay," he said flatly.
She blinked.
He offered no reaction. No disappointment. No protest.
"You should understand," she continued, "that no matter how close you two may seem, a human can never truly be part of a devil's life. Not long-term. Not politically."
He turned to look at her fully.
His eyes were calm, unreadable.
"Rias and her peerage are my friends. She saved my life. She matters to me. So do the others. Any affection you or Sirzechs think you saw is nothing more than that." She couldn't help the small eyebrow twitch for not using honorifics for Sirzechs-sama.
Grayfia studied him. That look in his eye. If he was lying, he was doing a better job than most.
She believed him. For now.
He bowed.
"Thank you again, Grayfia. I appreciate your help."
Grayfia nodded, but internally her thoughts moved in a different direction.
He had composure. Poise. Exceptional decorum. Talent. Respect (minus the use of honorifics). A noble cause. And, most importantly, he didn't want anything from the Gremory clan. Her opinion of him was rising.
What a shame he wasn't a devil.
He would have made a far better match than Riser.