Ren stepped out of the meeting hall with calm strides, each carrying a weight of authority.
The air outside was warm, the sun tilted slightly in the sky, its light reflecting against the polished windows of the surrounding buildings. A gentle breeze brushed through the ends of his dark hair as he adjusted the white collar beneath his jacket, concealing the official Shihakushō that vanished the moment he left the meeting's boundary.
"Kuoh Town… a land of coexistence, huh?" he thought silently while crossing the quiet outer garden, where the scent of flowers mingled with faint traces of magical energy drifting in the air.
Time had been flowing strangely fast lately. It had only been a few months since their return from the Soul Society… and yet, he felt as if years of his life had already been pushed forward.
He was now sixteen. Odd to think his birthday had passed while they were still in the middle of the battle to save Rukia… beneath a sky torn apart with blood and ash.
But today was different. Today… he had to return to a school desk.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out the transfer slip he had received that morning from the school office — a small white sheet, marked with plain handwriting:
"Ren Kurosaki – Class 2-B – Officially approved transfer."
A faint smile tugged at his lips.
"2-B… the class Hyoudou Issei is in, huh?"
Ren wasn't too surprised. Clearly, this was part of a deliberate arrangement — Issei's class was crawling with Devils, Fallen Angels, and Church followers. It was designed that way on purpose, so each faction could watch the others and keep one another in check.
As Ren walked, he sifted through other documents in his hand, listing the assigned representatives of each faction — similar papers were distributed among the others as well, ensuring no side could claim ignorance if a conflict broke out.
For the Devils, there were Rias and Sona, along with their Peerages.
For the Fallen Angels, Kalawarna had been placed as a teacher within the school, while the two others were Raynare (known publicly as Amano Yūma) and Mittelt.
Raynare — or Yūma, as she was currently known — was an alluring young woman with violet eyes and a slender, curvaceous frame. Her long, silky black hair flowed down to her hips, and the two black feathered wings sprouting from her back marked her race. Unlike in the anime, she had no alternate "Yūma" disguise — that "fan service" transformation was nothing but studio invention.
Mittelt, by contrast, had blonde twin-tails and sharp blue eyes. She bore doll-like features, with a petite, well-proportioned body that radiated an oddly childlike charm. Though lacking the mature allure of Yūma or Kalawarna, she carried her own beauty — and a presence no less dangerous.
As for the Church, the Heavens rarely allowed angels themselves to leave. Instead, their envoys had been dispatched: Shidou Irina and Xenovia Quarta.
Shidou Irina.
Irina was like a flash of divine light in human form.
A girl in her late teens, with long chestnut hair parted at the sides and bright azure eyes brimming with vitality and purity. But that purity was not weakness — it was conviction.
She wore a modified church uniform for the academy: a knee-length skirt, a crisp white long-sleeved blouse, and a small silver cross necklace that gleamed faintly at her throat. Her presence wasn't as commanding as Rias or Kalawarna's, yet it carried a quiet, unnerving weight — as if she never needed to raise her voice to project certainty.
Xenovia Quarta.
Xenovia was the exact opposite of Irina.
Short, sharp-cut dark blue hair, piercing golden eyes that burned with unshakable resolve. Her features were severe, her movements disciplined like a soldier drilled into instinct.
She walked as if constantly on a battlefield, spoke as though every word was a blade drawn from its sheath. There was no artifice in her, no façade — only blunt, cutting honesty.
Her modest uniform did nothing to conceal her athletic build, the hardened physique of someone forged through grueling years of training and religious discipline.
"Looks like things are about to get very troublesome…" Ren muttered as he burned the reports in his hand with spiritual energy, ashes scattering into the air. More reports would come by the day's end, ones that identified potential extremists opposed to the peace conference — individuals who might resort to chaos to reignite a great war.
He moved through the empty corridors at an unhurried pace; morning classes had already begun. But as a transfer student with ties to the student council, he had the excuse of "processing paperwork" to explain his lateness.
Soon, Ren reached the door of Class 2-B. He knocked softly.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
He stood waiting politely, despite his unusual position. His manners were no less than that of a typical Japanese student — unless he judged someone entirely undeserving of respect.
"Come in!" A drowsy male voice called from within. Clearly, the homeroom teacher was still half-asleep from the early morning.
"Excuse me for the intrusion," Ren said as he slid the door open, stepping into the room. His silver hair gleamed faintly under the light, his posture perfectly composed. His eyes fell on the disheveled, middle-aged teacher and he continued, "I am the new transfer student, Kurosaki Ren."
The teacher blinked at him for a long moment, rubbing his eyes as if to confirm this wasn't a dream.
"…Ah, right, the new student. Heard a bit about you from the office," he mumbled, gesturing him closer. "Come up front and introduce yourself."
Ren's footsteps carried him forward with measured calm, his every movement naturally imbued with balance and poise. Standing before the class, he turned to face his new peers. Dozens of eyes fixed on him — some curious, some wary, and others unreadable.
Drawing in a soft breath, he spoke in a steady, low voice:
"My name is Kurosaki Ren. I've transferred here recently due to personal circumstances. I hope we can coexist peacefully."
The words were plain, concise, without pretended friendliness — yet his tone bore a peculiar weight, one that made even those who didn't grasp the meaning feel he wasn't someone to take lightly.
Silence lingered, then whispers began at the back of the room. Most were ordinary students, but among the supernatural-blooded, guarded glances were exchanged.
"Oh, he's really handsome…" one girl near the window murmured, covering her mouth shyly.
{Be cautious, Partner. This Shinigami… he's powerful. Terrifying, even.}
Issei heard the familiar voice of Ddraig rumble within his mind, clearly unsettled by the presence before them.
Issei couldn't deny it — Kurosaki Ren was the exact type he despised most. Tall, long-legged, well-built, silver-haired like moonlight, wearing a blindfold that lent him an aura of mysterious charisma, as if he were a protagonist straight out of an anime.
But beyond mere jealousy, his instincts screamed — this man was dangerous, someone Issei stood no chance against in combat.
And it wasn't just him. Other students of the supernatural cast wary, astonished looks at Ren as well.
"Kurosaki-kun, you can sit next to Quarta-san," the teacher drawled lazily, pointing toward the blue-haired beauty who was already staring at Ren with a battle-hungry smile.
Ren nodded indifferently and made his way to the seat, ignoring the hushed voices of his classmates — especially the girls who watched him like he was some rare specimen. He sat down quietly.
"I'll be relying on you from now on, Quarta-san," Ren said politely to his new desk partner. Unlike the Devils or Fallen Angels, the Heavens and the Church were the closest aligned to Shinigami, since both sides genuinely cared for human welfare — or at least, so they claimed.
Xenovia smiled faintly, but it wasn't the warm or social kind — it was the smile that preceded a challenge.
"I'll try not to cause you trouble… as long as we're among ordinary people," she said calmly, eyes back on the blackboard, though her clenched fist atop the desk betrayed her readiness for battle.
Ren blinked once before replying dryly:
"As long as you don't wave your sword in the hallways, we'll be fine."
A soft chuckle escaped Irina in the nearby seat, as she leaned slightly and whispered:
"Well… this is going to be interesting."
...
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