POV: Haruki
"Say Haruki, isn't there anything about life that frightens you?" asked Rias as I stroked my brush on the canvas.
We were in the occult club room, and she was reclining gracefully on a divan. She had arranged herself deliberately, leaning back with her body stretched out in languid elegance, one arm curved behind her head while the other rested lightly along her side. She was not wearing her nightgown anymore. Instead, she was nude except for the large Heart of the Ocean diamond that lay against her bare chest, its sapphire glow catching every shift of the lamplight. Hours had passed like seconds after she had invited me inside, and in that time we had spoken of everything.
We drifted from the formation of the universe to music, then wandered through the long epochs of art, from ancient classical pieces to the abstractions of the twentieth century. She argued that abstract art allowed more emotional expression, more freedom for interpretation than realism ever could. I disagreed, saying both forms offered equal possibilities for depth. To settle the matter, she had proposed that I draw her in a realistic style and prove to her that precision of form could carry equal weight of emotion. I agreed, which is why she was now posing naked before me.
"Hey, I'm not a total idiot," I replied. "Of course life frightens me sometimes. Only a fool would pretend otherwise. I don't happen to take that as the premise for everything else, though. I'm going to give it a hundred percent and go as far as I can. I'll take what I want and leave what I don't want. That's how I intend to live my life, and if things go bad, I'll stop and reconsider at that point. If you think about it, an unfair society is a society that makes it possible for you to exploit your abilities to the limit," I explained.
Some say life is frightening. So what? What do they expect, that fear should be the starting point of every thought? That because life frightens me at times, I should build my whole existence around that tremor? No. A man who begins from fear is already conquered. Of course life frightens me sometimes, storms frighten sailors, and yet Odysseus still set sail, didn't he? If he had made fear his compass, he would never have left Ithaca. And then, who would sing his name?
No, I will not let fear be the architecture of my life. It may be the shadow at the edge of the road, but it is not the road itself. I will give this life a hundred percent of my strength, as though every day were a battlefield. What is the alternative – to crawl? To yield? To live in the shadow of what I might have done, had I not been afraid? I would sooner burn out like Icarus, wings blazing, than shiver on the ground envying the sky. At least he tasted the height of it. At least he dared.
"Sounds like a pretty self-centered way to live," said Rias.
"Perhaps," I said calmly. "but I'm not just looking up at the sky and waiting for the fruit to drop. In my own way, I'm working hard."
I focused my demonic energy into the brush. The brush acted as the conduit, guiding the flow so the energy seeped into the canvas with each stroke. Demonic energy is imagination-based, capable of taking any form the user conceives, and while most employ it for fighting, it can serve countless other purposes. By applying it to painting, I could elevate the image beyond natural limits. The goal was not simply accuracy of form but precision of emotion. The energy anchored intent into the lines and colors, shaping posture and atmosphere until they conveyed exactly what I wanted. Where ordinary paint depended on skill alone, this method fused skill with willpower. The result was a work that transmitted emotion or idea directly, without distortion.
This world of magic was just way too fun.
"There is a certain beauty to that pride of yours," said Rias, smiling.
I did not answer. The silence stretched, filled only by the quiet stroke of my brush.
She broke it first. "Haruki, why do people yawn when others yawn? I've always wondered."
I turned slightly, watching the faint mist of her breath rise in the dim light. "Contagion of the nervous system. The body mirrors what it observes. But if you press the question further, it's a ritual of recognition. To yawn when another yawns is to say: I am like you, I share your condition. A communion of sorts."
She laughed quietly. "You can make even yawning sound profound."
"Everything can be profound, if you ask the right question," I said. "Do you know some species of fish yawn as well? Not because they are tired, but as a display of dominance. To them, the gesture is not fatigue but assertion. So perhaps we do not yawn in sympathy at all. Perhaps we are, in truth, challenging each other every time our mouths open," I said.
Her eyes flicked toward me, amused. "So you mean to say that every time I yawn in your presence, I am issuing a challenge?"
"Yes," I replied evenly. "And every time I yawn in return, I accept it."
For a moment there was silence again.
Then I asked, "What about bread? Do you like the crust or the soft middle?"
She raised an eyebrow. "What kind of question is that?"
"A serious one. The crust is the foundation of civilization. Without it, bread would collapse into mush," I answered with a deadpan.
She laughed. "You're ridiculous. I like the soft middle."
"Of course you do," I said. "Soft, indulgent, easy. Meanwhile, I break my teeth on the crust like a true ascetic. One day, historians will write: here lies Haruki, he was hardened by bread."
"Your sarcasm is wasted on me," she replied coolly, though the corner of her mouth betrayed amusement.
Another pause.
Then she said, "I wonder what cats think about when it rains. Do they resent the weather, or do they simply sleep through it?"
"They plot," I said at once. "They always plot. Rain just gives them more time to refine their plans for overthrowing us."
She laughed again, softer this time. "You sound serious."
"I am serious. Never trust a cat. They've been watching us since Egypt," I said.
Her laughter lingered, as sweet as summer. I leaned back on the pillow, letting the conversation drift. The topics were useless, but the uselessness was the point.
I paused at last, brush poised over the canvas. After about a quarter of an hour I set the brush aside, studied Rias for a long moment, and then the painting. I bit the end of one of my larger brushes and let a small smile form.
"It is finished," I said, and stooped to sign my name in thin vermilion letters on the left-hand corner of the canvas. I examined the work more slowly, moving around it to catch the face from different angles. It was a fine likeness and, in its own terms, a finished thing.
"Come and look at yourself," I said. Rias started as if awakened from sleep.
"Is it really finished?" she murmured, rising from the divan.
"Yes, it is," I replied. "And you were a wonderful subject. You have my gratitude."
She made no immediate answer. She walked slowly in front of the painting and then stopped. When she saw it she drew back, a light coloring her cheeks. For a moment joy entered her face, as if she had recognized herself for the first time. She stood motionless, held by whatever she saw on the canvas, dimly aware that I spoke but not catching the precise meaning of my words.
The enchantment in her expression was exact and quiet. The look of her own beauty arrived upon her like a fact newly learned. I watched her with interest and a measure of professional curiosity. This was the first time I had used demonic energy on a portrait in this way. I had intended the energy to bind intent to line and color, to carry the emotion I wanted as directly as possible. Now I watched to see whether it had worked.
Rias continued to look at the portrait, and a tear appeared at the corner of one eye. It slid down her cheek and did not disturb the stillness of her face. She spoke finally, her voice soft and slightly distant.
"It is… beautiful," she said at last.
"I am glad you appreciate my work at last, Rias," I said, my voice steady.
"Appreciate it? I am in love with it, Haruki. It is part of myself, I feel that."
She said the words without fanfare, with the steadiness that had marked every other thing she had offered me. She did not move from where she stood. I let her remain there with the painting, and with whatever had come upon her in that moment, while I gathered my brushes and watched the light shift across the surface.
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When I said my goodbye to Rias, it was already five o'clock in the morning. I opened my door carefully, not wishing to wake the others inside. As I took off my shoes, I heard footsteps approaching. So much for stealth.
"Welcome home, master," bowed Ravel Phenex.
The girl who devoted herself to me in return for her brother's life. In the three months of my absence, she had been taking care of my apartment and patiently waiting for my return. When I returned briefly to drop off Asia before going to Rias, I was surprised to find her still here. I had believed she would go back to her family after hearing nothing from me for months. It seems I underestimated her dedication. I wonder what it is that truly drives her to such an extent. I had already told her she was free to go, that she did not have to pay for her brother's life with hers, and yet she remains. Either she is determined to keep her word or her family is using her to build a connection with me, to score a potential political alliance.
"Good morning, Ravel," I said politely. "Did I wake you?" I added apologetically.
"Not at all, master. I usually wake up early," she said as she helped me take off my coat, folding it neatly and putting it away. It seems she has taken it upon herself to be my maid, aiding me wherever possible.
"The early bird gets the worm. I did not think it was meant literally," I said to the phoenix.
"Just so, master Haruki," said Ravel, chuckling softly.
We made our way to the living room. I sat on the sofa, while she stood, as maids do.
"Take a seat," I said to her. "Tell me everything that has happened in my absence."
She took a seat and began to report. Her speech was clinical and thorough, with a certain flair for dramatics. Nothing particularly interesting had happened, much to my surprise. If I recall correctly, in the anime after the whole Riser fiasco, the church goons appeared. I remember because there were two hot girls in skimpy outfits, which amused me since they were supposed to be church agents. After that, I believe a fallen angel or something attacked, but I do not recall much else. I skipped that part anyway. Yet here, none of it seems to have happened. Either it has not occurred yet, or I somehow disrupted it.
Other things of note: various devils from the underworld came to seek me, Lucifer reborn as they say, coming to either offer allegiance or recruit me to their factions with promises of riches and power.
"…I have organized the various letters sent to you by the nobles of the underworld based on their rank and importance in the current government, so that it may be easier for you to quickly find people of interest. In addition, I have prepared for you a report on the various noble houses that sent letters of invitation or proposals," spoke Ravel professionally, handing me a folder.
I looked through some of the pages. The report was detailed, beginning with the history of the houses, their members, unique abilities, and other relevant information. Then, slightly trembling, she informed me of the recent massacre of the vampires by the Hero Faction. She explained how the noble houses of the underworld, whose members oversaw territories in the human world, had summoned them back in fear of the Hero Faction. A reasonable development.
"How come both Sona and Rias remain here then?" I asked, curious.
"I would not presume to know, master. What I know is that neither Lord Sitri nor Lord Gremory were pleased with their daughters' decisions," said Ravel.
"No. I don't suppose they would be," I said. "What about you? Why do you still remain here?" I asked.
"I would not leave without you, master," answered Ravel.
I regarded her for a moment, but said nothing. What could I say?
"Also, my lord, Lady Grayfia came thrice seeking you," said Ravel, breaking the silence.
"Has she now? I wonder why. Did she say anything of her purpose?" I asked casually.
"She mentioned an invitation, but nothing else, I am afraid," said Ravel.
An invitation, huh. I imagine Sirzechs wants me for his agenda. But what?
"Did you make any progress in regard to oaths and vows?" I asked. That had been her only task, after all. Mostly to keep her occupied, but also in hope of learning more about the Hero Faction's oath.
"I am afraid I have made little to no progress on the matter," said Ravel, with a regretful tone. "I have been researching various examples of oaths throughout history and any instance of them being broken. But it has been a fruitless search. I will accept any punishment you deem fit for my failure," said Ravel, bowing to her knees.
"Don't be ridiculous, Ravel. I am not going to punish you for something like that," I said. "It was a long shot anyway," I added casually.
Truthfully, I had not expected much to come of it.
"You are very kind, master. Still, I could not fulfill your command. It is only fitting I get punished," spoke Ravel reverently.
"Let us make this not awkward for the both of us, Ravel," I said. "I have already explained to you that I have no desire for a slave or servant. Servitude is an insult to me, whether someone else is bound to me or I am bound to others. I have only agreed to accept you as my aide because of the nature of your oath and nothing else. So I would appreciate it if you do not project your preconceived nonsense of a master and slave relationship between us. You are free to interpret your oath as you wish, but keep in mind that I make no demands of you," I said sternly.
I would honestly prefer she were not obligated to serve me, but oh well. It is what it is.
"I am sorry if I offended you in any way, my lord," said Ravel, bowing again.
I sighed. "I am not offended, just telling you my view of the issue," I said.
"I understand, master," said Ravel.
I remember telling her not to call me 'lord' and instead call me Haruki, but it seems she is intent on using 'master' as the replacement.
"What have you been doing around here then? Surely you did not spend all your time on housework or researching oaths," I asked with faint curiosity. It would not be healthy if that was all she did.
"I have started attending Kuoh Academy as a first year to better integrate into human society," said Ravel. "I apologize that I did it without your permission. And I will stop immediately if it displeases you," she added carefully.
For gods' sake, what does the girl think of me?
"Nah, it's fine if that is what you want to do," I replied casually. "Though I am surprised. Why do you wish to integrate into human society?" I asked.
"To better serve you, of course. It is imperative I understand your experience and mindset for that," said Ravel.
I groaned at that. "Any other reason besides serving me?" I asked, hopeful.
"Well, I always had a fascination for humanity. How they live and do things. I wished to better know them, though I never had the opportunity to do so," said Ravel.
"I suppose you would not have much freedom as a daughter of a noble house," I said idly.
"Just so," answered Ravel.
"Well that settles it, Ravel," I said. "You now have all the freedom you need to indulge in your interest without your father or someone else ordering you around. Use this opportunity to explore things and enjoy yourself."
"But–?" began Ravel, but I interrupted her.
"No buts," I said sternly. "I don't need you dedicating your everything to serve me. Use it as an opportunity to find out what you want and who you want to be. Take it as a command if need be."
Ravel hesitated for a moment and then smiled broadly. She had a cute smile.
"As you wish, master," said Ravel.
"So tell me, what is it about humans that you find interesting?" I asked with a certain curiosity.
"Their drama and myths. It is fascinating how they perceive the supernatural and develop myths surrounding them," said Ravel.
"Dramas, huh? Are you familiar with the big three of Greek tragedies?" I asked idly.
"Somewhat. I have read some works of Aeschylus and know some of Sophocles in passing, though none of Euripides," answered Ravel, a bit excitedly.
"What marks Euripides' plays," I began, "is how the events build until the characters are trapped in knots of their own making. Each enters with their own history, motives, and justifications, and each pursues what they think is right or necessary. By the time the story reaches its height, there is no path left that could satisfy everyone. Every claim collides with another, every hope cancels the next, and the stage is left in disorder. Then, when no resolution seems possible, a god descends, or some contrivance is brought in, and suddenly the chaos is rearranged by decree. He gives orders: 'You go there, you come here, you take her hand, you stay silent.' Like that. It all works out neatly in the end. That device is what we call deus ex machina. Euripides made frequent use of it, and it is precisely there that opinion divides, whether he meant to reveal the limits of human effort or simply escape them," I said.
"I see," said Ravel, studying me. "And where do you stand, master?"
"Where do I stand?" I scoffed. "I despise it with all my being. To permit an outside agency to step in at the conclusion and rearrange the consequences of human choice is to deny the necessity of consequence itself; it is to convert the account of suffering and decision into a spectacle that ends without responsibility. When a playwright, or anyone, whether he writes for the theater or for life, relieves his characters of the obligation to see their acts through to their natural termini by introducing an intervention that resolves their contradictions, he is choosing convenience over consequence, and that choice is a kind of surrender.
"I cannot accept a resolution that is purchased by the abdication of agency, because I do not accept that my life, or any life I claim responsibility for, should be settled by the whim of an external arbitrator. If events lead to ruin, then that ruin must be met, explained, and borne by those who enacted it. If there is triumph, it must spring from the work of those who shaped it. To look for a divine hand to tidy up what we have broken is to refuse both credit and blame for what we have done, and that refusal is intolerable to me."
Silence stretched between us. She looked at me with a mixture of unease and fascination.
We discussed more on the different works of Euripides, starting from Medea to Hippolytus and finally Ion. Ravel was surprisingly knowledgeable about dramas and their mechanics, enough to challenge my assertions. She even argued against my dislike of deus ex machina, insisting that there was comfort in the idea of an intervention, a power that might descend to resolve what we could not, to deliver answers and destinies where none appeared.
————————————————
"Are you ready, Haruki-san?" said the soft voice of Asia.
She was wearing the Kuoh Academy school uniform, which I have always thought to be far too erotic for something meant for education. The skirt is so short that if the girls were to bend, one could easily see their underwear. Asia, however, overcame this indecency by wearing black tights underneath. Being a former nun, she is understandably uncomfortable showing any skin, so she makes sure to wear long clothing that covers it.
"Yes, Asia-san," answered Ravel.
Ravel, on the other hand, wore the uniform without modification. Being a devil, she made no great fuss about flaunting her skin.
"Yeah, let's get this over with," I said, bored.
"Do you have to be gloomy in the morning? How about some excitement to return to school? You have been missing for a long time after all," said Asia cheerfully.
"I would have kept it that way if not for a certain someone," I said with mock accusation. I had not intended to attend school to begin with, but Asia had been relentless.
"You cannot just focus on those books of yours all the time," chided Asia softly. "It is unhealthy. Sometimes you have to get out and spend time with other people, Haruki-san."
I had been planning to dedicate myself to researching alchemy, but Asia had been very convincing in her argument that I needed to touch some grass.
"And I keep telling you that school is full of morons," I answered, unimpressed.
"Well, that is because you do not give them a chance," said Asia, indulging me. "If you would, you would realize that there are a lot of good people there."
I somehow doubted that, but Asia's optimism had a way of spreading.
"And why is it that Ravel calls you Asia, but refuses to call me by name?" I asked, irritated.
"Well, that is because you are so intense and serious all the time, so people think you are perpetually mad," said Asia, giggling.
"That is not true at all," I disagreed. "In fact, I always look remarkably friendly and happy. You could see it in my face." I put on my most delinquent expression.
"You look like some gangster, right Ravel-san?" said Asia, laughing.
Ravel nodded shyly.
"See, Ravel also thinks you look scary," said Asia.
"Hey, weren't you supposed to be on my side?" I said to Ravel.
"Well of course I am on your side, master. But you also told me to always tell you the hard truth instead of the beautiful lie," quipped Ravel.
"You dare use my own words against me, chicken princess," I said. "I do not look scary at all," I defended myself.
"Whatever you say, delinquent-san," said Asia, laughing together with Ravel.
We continued walking, bantering as we went.
"…I will be late for dinner today, so do not bother waiting for me," said Asia.
"Why is that?" I asked curiously.
"Well, I have been volunteering at the hospital after school, helping people heal. After all, that is what the Twilight Healing is for," explained Asia, a bit shyly.
"How is it?" I asked. I imagine it suits Asia perfectly, helping people that is.
"It is very difficult work but also very rewarding,"explained Asia softly. "Being able to help people that are suffering, sharing the Lord's gift with them and bringing a smile to their face brings me immense happiness."
I smiled at that. "It fits you," I said warmly.
We arrived at school after a bit of walking. The whole school grew quiet as we entered, eyes following us three as though my return after a long absence had become some grand event. Many people rushed to greet Asia, as if a saint had descended, and she greeted each of them by name, making small talk, genuinely happy to see them. That happiness was returned tenfold. I overheard jealous remarks directed at me for walking with two blond girls, curses thrown my way for being a so-called pretty boy.
But still, it was a good day.
"Good to have you back, Haruki-san," said Kiba, smiling genuinely.
I was sitting in the Occult Research Club room, with everyone present.
"Likewise, Kiba," I said calmly, sipping tea Akeno had prepared.
"Where were you anyway for so long? You did not even tell any of us where you went. We were worried something happened to you," said Issei, annoyed.
"I had something to do. It is nice of you to worry," I said to him calmly. I could sense they wanted to know more, but they did not press.
"What have you been up to these days?" I asked casually.
"Well nothing much really, just the usual," said Kiba.
"Speak for yourself. I have been busy getting stronger," said Issei with determination.
"Have you now?" I said idly. "Did you manage to awaken your Sacred Gear's ability?" I asked with curiosity.
"Hell yeah. I am sure I can kick your ass now," said Issei with passion.
"Cocky, are we?" I said. "Want to put your theory to practice?" I said with a challenge.
"How about a spar between you two then, since you both seem motivated," proposed Akeno, smiling sadistically.
"Prepare to get your ass kicked," shouted Issei.
A few moments later, he was lying on the ground, puking up his breakfast.
"Fuck, man, are you made of bricks?" said Issei, sprawled out.
He had lasted three seconds after I allowed him to boost until he reached the maximum amount of power his body could contain. To his credit, he had achieved a level equivalent to high-class. The Longinus truly are overpowered, to bring someone like Issei to that level after only a handful of boosts.
"I feel like I am about to die…" said Issei as he lay there.
"How many fingers am I holding up?" asked Koneko in her monotone voice.
"Seven," he answered.
She was holding four.
"Close enough, he's healthy," declared Koneko, her voice devoid of emotion.
I chuckled at her antics.
"Still, I know that Issei does not have much fighting experience, but in terms of demonic energy quantity he was high-class after the boost. To think you defeated him in one attack… I would not have been able to do it," said Rias, stunned.
"Well, that is the difference between a genius and mediocrity," I said teasingly.
Rias showed me her middle finger. "Insufferable bastard," she muttered under her breath.
I was a bit disappointed in Issei. I had hoped to see more of the Boosted Gear's abilities, but I suppose it has not been that long since he obtained it. Still, the potential is enormous. The ability to double power every ten seconds, even if additive rather than exponential, allows for countless applications.
I said my goodbyes after that and went home.
I started on my alchemy experiments. Alchemy, at its essence, is the art of transformation. It does not impose the will of the practitioner upon the world as magic does, nor does it rely upon divine authority like priestly invocations. Instead, it concerns itself with the laws that already govern existence, the correspondences between matter and matter, body and soul, event and consequence. Where others conjure miracles, the alchemist uncovers the hidden rules by which miracles take place, and through that knowledge bends them into service.
It is both a science and a religion, for its foundations lie neither wholly in experiment nor wholly in faith, but in the conviction that the cosmos may be disassembled, purified, and recombined into higher forms. Every civilization, from Egypt to China, from India to Greece, devised its own alchemical practice, yet all are united by the belief that transformation is not only possible but inevitable.
The Egyptian tradition, oldest of all, speaks in the language of Ma'at, the balance of order, and directs itself toward the transformation of events, reshaping probability, altering outcomes, and re-weighting destiny itself. They use tools like hieroglyphs, sacred geometry, and ritual vessels, each designed to impose the pattern of the eternal upon the flux of the mortal.
The Hellenistic branch, born of Hermetic philosophy, pursues perfection through purification, aligning metals with planets, man with cosmos. It promises apotheosis, the refinement of the soul until it gleams with something approaching divinity. It is from their researches that homunculi were produced, artificial men wrought in glass wombs, and constructs of stone and metal, crude imitations of life created in pursuit of that ideal.
In India, alchemy is mainly used for medicine and enlightenment, or liberation as they say. The Rasayana schools sought the prolongation of the body, manipulating prana, life-breath, through metals and herbs, while their loftier adepts claimed to dissolve the bonds of mortality altogether, achieving either bodily immortality or spiritual release.
The Chinese distinguished between the inner and outer forms. Outer alchemy forged elixirs from cinnabar and rare metals, while inner alchemy turned inward, transforming the practitioner's own body into the crucible where yin and yang were refined. Its goal was union with the Dao, the shedding of the transient for the eternal. It reminded me of the various cultivation novels back on Earth, though luckily cultivators here do not destroy the universe by sneezing.
In the Islamic and European worlds, alchemy grew systematic, a bridge between superstition and science. Figures like Jabir ibn Hayyan and Paracelsus turned their gaze to distillation, metallurgy, and medicine, pursuing the elusive Philosopher's Stone, at once material perfection and spiritual salvation. From their laboratories arose poisons, remedies, and the crude beginnings of chemistry.
For all their differences, every tradition shares certain axioms. Correspondence: that the macrocosm and microcosm reflect one another. Purification: that the impure can be refined, the base raised into the noble. Union of opposites: that division and reunion yield a higher synthesis. Sacrifice: that nothing is gained without something being lost.
Its applications are many, and its levels of mastery divided into various levels and disciplines. At its lowest, the discipline produces material alchemy: potions, transmutations, alterations of matter. Beyond it lies biological alchemy, where life itself is molded: healing, extension of years, creation of homunculi and chimeras. Higher still is spiritual alchemy, the refinement of the soul, the transference of spirit, necromancy, and vision. An example of this would be the evil pieces created by Ajuka Beelzebub. They are masterpieces of alchemical principles.
And at its highest level stands event alchemy, the art of bending causality, rewriting the flow of events. It is estimated that there are no more than six or seven people who are at this level, though no one knows who they are. The God of the Bible is believed to have been at this level. Or rather, was.
A knock interrupted my studies. I looked at the clock. Past midnight. I had been so absorbed I had not noticed the hour.
"Come in," I said.
"Lady Akeno is here to meet you, master," said the pleasant voice of Ravel.
"Thank you, Ravel. Let her in, please," I said.
Ravel bowed and left. Moments later Akeno walked in, graceful as ever.
"Good evening Haruki, forgive the intrusion," said Akeno politely.
"No problem," I said. "What can I do for you?"
Her eyes moved across the room. I followed her gaze. Only then did I notice the state of my surroundings. Papers strewn across the floor, a soda can tipped on its side, black liquids, and the unmistakable stench of chemicals. Piles of borrowed instruments from the academy, alongside items I had purchased for my own experiments. In short, the room looked like the laboratory of a madman.
"It has seen better days," I said lightly.
She chuckled. "So it would seem."
She bent over, picked up a sheet from the floor, skimmed its contents.
"Alchemy? I did not know you had an interest in it. But I suppose it is not surprising," said Akeno.
"I find every branch of magic interesting, and alchemy is a severely underrated study," I said.
"For good reason," said Akeno. "Not only is it extremely dangerous with high chances for volatile reactions. It is also extremely difficult, that one would need to invest centuries if not more for it to be remotely useful. And even then you might die due to a minor mistake in materials. Not to mention its limited use in combat. And it is not that flashy. Not everyone wants to spend centuries holed up reading and experimenting just to turn lead into gold."
"Which is a shame, as it is very fun and versatile," I said.
"Well, even at your best you could hardly be considered normal," muttered Akeno. "How is it going?"
"Admittedly not great at the moment," I said. "I just need to better grasp the rules, the underlying principle. After all, magic is like a game. You learn the rules for one and they all work the same."
"I suppose for you it is that easy," said Akeno.
"Well, it is not like I am not working hard. In my own way, I am working ten times as much as you," I said. It was arrogant, but also true. Most people confuse motion with progress, exhaustion with effort. They do not work hard. They merely toil.
"That is probably true," Akeno admitted, a faint smile tugging at her lips.
"I look around me and all I see is disappointment," I said. "Why don't they do something about it? Why do they sit still, complain endlessly, and then wallow in their own impotence? They moan about unfairness, about the world being too difficult, yet they never once attempt to break through the wall they claim is holding them back."
"You are rather merciless," she said softly, folding her arms. "Not everyone is born with your kind of talent or willpower, Haruki. Most people… do their best with the little they have."
"That is precisely my point," I replied, voice sharpening. "They mistake survival for striving. They scrape by, working their fingers to the bone, but to what end? There is no vision, no self-directed purpose. That is not hard work, it is simply manual labour dressed up as virtue. True effort is not in repetition or obedience. It is in the deliberate cultivation of power, of mastery, of the ability to command one's own life rather than be dragged along by it."
Akeno tilted her head, gaze narrowing. "So then, your late nights, your endless hours with grimoires and techniques, are those your ideas of true work?"
"Yes," I said without hesitation. "Every page I study, every technique I master, every night I spend refining control over my own power, none of it is done to satisfy another man's measure of diligence or to earn the empty praise of peers. It is not toil for its own sake, but a deliberate construction of a foundation that belongs to me alone. Things like that do not happen without hard work, you know."
"Your ego is on a whole other level," said Akeno with a smile at last. "But I suppose that is what makes you you."
"But I am sure you did not come here to listen to my rants," I said.
"I find that I have missed your rants in the last few months. There is something charming about them, if I do not agree mostly," said Akeno, smiling.
"Careful now, Akeno, I might think you have started to tolerate me," I said, amused.
"All things considered I am glad to have you back. It has been quite boring without you," said Akeno with a sincerity that surprised me. "But you are right, I came here to give you a message from Rias. Lady Grayfia is coming in two hours to discuss some matters with you. Rias was asking if you have the time for it."
"Sure, I do not have anything else to do," I said casually.
"Wonderful, I will be sure to tell Lady Grayfia that," said Akeno with a soft smile.
She seemed finished and began walking toward the door. I was already ready to return to my research until the time of meeting, but Akeno stopped at the doorway, glancing back.
"Say, Haruki-san, do you have time tomorrow? There was something I wanted your opinion on," she said in a low voice.
Uncharacteristic of Akeno, who is usually confident and flirty. It must be something serious.
"Sure, I should be free tomorrow. Perhaps after school if you would like?" I asked calmly.
"Excellent, then I will pick you up after school. See you then," she said, and went out the door.
I did not think much of it and returned to my work.
AN: if you like my writing, consider supporting me on patreon. we are five chapters ahead there. Patreon: Abeltargaryen