Sometimes The Light At The End Of The Tunnel Is An Oncoming Train [DxD / Celestial Dojo SI]

BlueHelix · Jul 5, 2026

CHAPTER ONE: MONKEY SEE, MONKEY DO

It's easy to miss the scent of smoke when you're busy dealing with sewage coming out of your drains. That's the only explanation I can have for missing the fact that I was in a fictional universe for about two decades, but if you would forgive me for saying this, the smell of rot in Japan was very strong.

Not literally, to be exact — for the most part, even in my "hometown" of Shinjuku-ku, people were pretty fastidious about managing garbage. The public trash cans may have been removed after the sarin attacks by Aum Shinrikyo back in 1995, but that simply meant that people took their garbage home to dispose of it there. No, it was more of the fact that it was arguable that Japan had never recovered from the Lost Decade, and the popping of the Bubble Economy that had caused it, even well into 30 years afterward in my other life.

Ah, my other life? That probably deserves some explanation — I should probably introduce myself properly. My name's Aizome Haru, named for the season when I was given over to the orphanage, and gifted the family name by the nun who had apparently found me. In terms of likes and dislikes, dreams, and interesting facts, I like the color blue and dislike bitter melon, my dream before today was to be able to own an affordable home, and I have memories of a past life when there was a light novel series about a boy with a dragon encased in his left arm saved the world with the power of boobs.

The boy possibly had doomed the world to an extradimensional invasion through summoning the literal goddess of boobs, but one step at a time first, right?

The day I realized that I had significantly larger problems than praying that I wouldn't get employed by a black company when I graduated — or in fact, got employed at all, I had a strange dream that I faintly thought was Kung Fu Panda. Despite the film not coming out yet for at least couple more years, it was incredibly vivid, with the martial arts practiced by the animals seeming for some reason to my dream-self to be rather practical. Strange dreams were a dime a dozen to anyone though, so as I woke up to the chirping of birds outside and a pounding headache, I put it out of my mind. Rubbing my eyes with my left hand, I reached out with my right to my nightstand, flipping open my cell phone.

5:47. Too early to be happy about beating the alarm clock, but late enough that I didn't want to waste my time trying to fall asleep again only to have to get up at 7 to get to classes.

Putting on my glasses, the one thing that had followed me across universes, apparently, I fumbled around my room, getting ready for the day. It was a bare place, but given that I had moved in just a week or two ago, it wasn't the worst I could be. I had scrounged together enough home goods to make things livable, and frankly the room was small enough that additional furniture was out of the question. All things said, after folding up my futon and stowing it away, there was enough floor space to actually move about, which combined with a functional enough kitchen, was something to be thankful for. I hadn't experienced this kind of luxury in close to two decades, and as I prepared my relatively quick breakfast of a microwaved potato with toppings (don't knock it until you've tried it), I couldn't help but reminisce.

As much as the orphanage, or the "children's home," had tried its best and I was thankful for it, they had been desperately over capacity due to circumstances beyond their control. Despite what the term "orphanage" might typically bring up, most of the children stuck in homes weren't actually orphans these days — something like only one in ten were, the government caseworker I had asked about it in their last visit had told me. Maybe circumstances were different before "the times," but no, most children who were in my lovely second homeland's pleasantly euphemistic "alternative care" system had been placed there for their own safety. The reasons for it ranged vast and far, from domestic violence to parental drug abuse, but a steadily rising portion of them had been because their parents were no longer financially capable of taking care of them.

Some of them hadn't even been removed by the government — quite a few had been placed there by their parents, preemptively given up. A few were promised that they would be taken back one day. Fewer still were even visited by their parents. Any amount of frustration or resentment I could have had about being unfortunate enough to be reborn without a family had well and thoroughly died there — as overworked as the institution I had been in, they at least tried, which was far more than I could have hoped for, growing up in the aftershocks of the Bubble. It wasn't like I was ever going to be adopted, considering the circumstances — sometimes people would come by to pick up some of the children, but it was for transferring to another facility for one reason or another.

Given everything, my second childhood was mostly a blur. Wake up, go to school, help with chores, and study, study, study. Study to get into a good high school and college, study in order to get a good job, study in order to be a proper functional Japanese citizen. Being an orphan alone would have hurt my prospects — nepotism hire who? — but not getting into even a mid-tier college would have been murderous on my ability to get employed in a place where I could actually have a career.

Even obtaining a part-time job was a pretty difficult endeavor for me back in high school — because while ordinarily finding some kind of trivial job for pocket change wasn't that difficult, from what adults who had remembered what life was like before "the times" had told me, I wasn't just competing with my fellow teenagers who wanted to get some extra change to save up for some manga or a video game. No, I had been competing with entire generations of graduates who had no job offerings open to them, and had thus become "freeters." I was lucky enough to be able to swing a few positions through the help of the priests and nuns at the orphanage, and to be able to continue that into university, but—

—ah, the microwave had finished steaming the potato. It was time to eat and get going.

Despite all the issues of living in Tokyo, being able to move around wasn't that much of an issue. Being able to move from the center of Shinjuku-ku to Sophia University was about half an hour thanks to the wonders of being able to traverse city traffic with a bicycle. It would've been quicker if I took the subway, but recently the subways weren't feeling exactly safe and suicides involving the trains, politely known as "railway personal injury accidents" or less politely "human accidents" were up. So for the sake of my physical and mental health, as well as saving a miniscule amount of yen, I chose to keep on biking — I needed the cardio anyway. Like most things in this life, I bought it used for a couple of thousand yen. One of the middle-aged men at the local parish wanted to supposedly get rid of it because he was moving out to the country, and had basically given it away to me. It was a lightweight foldable one too, so it was beyond a steal, so I politely ignored the fact that a bike would get even more use out in the country and accepted it with a smile. What else could I do?

Sophia University wasn't something one would expect for someone who had examined my financial position, as since it was a frankly prestigious private research university, it would quite normally be something out of my reach. An orphan didn't exactly have the money to pay for juku — cram school, much less the tuition of a private university. While top tier universities like Tokyo Tech, or even worse one of the "Imperial Universities" like the University of Tokyo would've been absurd to even dream of, with the reorganization of Tokyo Metropolitan University I figured I would've had a good chance of getting in. It was one of my top choices in fact, and I had been preparing to set my savings ablaze and began working out the logistics of finding more part-time work to cover the costs, while hoping that I could somehow acquire a good enough scholarship.

However, even as subsidized as the public universities were, they couldn't compare to "free" — and while I didn't have many advantages in life beyond my previous life's memories, the one thing I did have was being raised in a Catholic orphanage, and Sophia University was a Catholic university. Apparently between my academics, scores on the entrance exam, and my background, I qualified for quite the scholarship, complete with a housing stipend. When the sisters at the orphanage presented me with the documents, I had just about burst into tears.

Despite my gratefulness, as I rode towards the University's grounds, I couldn't help but feel a little bit out of place. The University was built in Chiyoda-ku, and this place was ritzy as all get out. The Imperial Palace was placed at the Ward's center, and a significant portion of government institutions were here as well, and the place looked the part — if Tokyo was akin to New York City, then this place would be Manhattan, the financial and political center of the city.

Correspondingly, as soon as I had entered the Ward, the population density dropped significantly, making biking through the roads a relative breeze from what I had traversed earlier, and I took the opportunity to see the sights. If I had to wake up so early, I might as well make the most of it. Yotsuya was quite the urban neighborhood, but now that I was looking, I noticed there were an awful lot of animals going about. While stray dogs were incredibly rare due to rabies legislation, although I had seen a few, cats were walking all around, which kind of made the amount of birds singing in the area pretty unusual. I swore I had heard something about a lot of stray cats would always lead to a decimation of the population.

As I saw a cat leap to the top of a fence, an errant thought filled my mind—

"Huh, I could do that."

A quick series of images flickered through my head. I couldn't exactly replicate how a cat's 30 vertebrae coiled to provide the high speed velocity through the air, nor did I have the comparatively much larger plantaris muscle that cats had, and the square-cube law was a killer, but the unison of form in explosiveness was interesting as a thought exercise.

So interesting, in fact that I nearly ran a red light. Did I really spend that long on how to figure out how to jump like a cat…? The tyranny of biology and physics was eternal, and while I was fit, my conditioning wasn't exactly up to the task of a hands-free standing jump over a fence. Shaking my head and banishing any other thoughts of sightseeing, I focused on the trip to classes — it was still syllabus week, but being late to class so early, especially as a scholarship student, would be a terrible first impression.

Classes were as expected, a breeze — these were at most introductory university courses, the ones that in a past life I'd skipped over, and frankly even then things wouldn't get the ball rolling until after this week when introductions were finished. Unlike my previous life however, I actually did read the syllabi properly and resolved to actually make use of office hours. Aside from the academic benefits, connections were everything in this hell of a frozen economy, and being the student who actually showed up to office hours might actually give me a chance.

After sharing my email with my classmates, which had filled me with a touch of confusion back in high school because I could have sworn LINE was supposed to be the popular messaging app in Asia before realizing that this was probably before it was invented, I hopped onto my bike to head toward my first part-time job. However,as I headed out back to Yasukuni-dori, a pretty direct path between Shinjuku and Chiyoda, something else caught my eye. This time though, it wasn't the miracle of feline biomechanics. No, it was something much stranger — a group of people my age in clerical garments and habits were rushing off into the distance, led by someone who probably should have been a lot slower than them but somehow wasn't, albeit thankfully not in the same direction I was. Getting the strong feeling that I was seeing something that I wasn't supposed to, I mentally filed it away under the evergreen reasoning of not my monkeys, not my circus.

I probably should have paid more attention considering future events, in my defense, I didn't exactly have a great sense of overall precise directionality. While I knew my way around the city in the sense of how to get from Point A to Point B, I hadn't really charted out Chiyoda-ku in the context with my usual haunts just yet. If I did, I probably would've realized that they were heading off in the same direction as where I worked and maybe called off that day.

Actually no, I needed the money for groceries, so maybe not.

The great thing about working in a small family restaurant is that no one's using cocaine. Well, considering drug penalties were extremely severe in Japan, it was probably a lot less common compared to say, the States, but it was still a pretty big plus — I remember a friend of mine telling me about being offered a line by her sous chef, albeit she was Canadian. That didn't mean there was no drug use though, just ones a whole lot less verboten to the public. One of the many things people got blinded by nostalgia for the 2000s forgot was that people just smoked so damn much, and a "smoking section" only split off from the rest of the restaurant by a plexiglass divider was both a joke and sadly common.

Still, the pay was acceptable, and "family meal," such as it was, was fantastic — free food forgave a lot of sins, and the cook, my boss Sakamoto-san made a killer chicken katsu curry. So good that it quieted the buzzing in my brain enough that I almost forgot how off the day had been until my shift ended, when he stopped to talk to me before I left.

"Ah, Aizome-kun, one moment," he called out, his voice strangely not quite as jovial as it usually was, which was pretty unusual. There weren't as many customers as usual around, but it was also pretty late in the evening — we weren't that close to Shinjuku Station, but we still had a pretty nasty dinner rush. "I've got something for you, but I forgot to give it to you earlier."

"Something for me?" I responded, a bit bewildered. I finished putting away the plates I was drying off and wiped my hands. "What do you mean? Did I forget something here at my last shift?"

"Oh, nothing like that," he answered. To my confusion, he pulled out an embroidered silk pouch. An omamori…? "It's actually not something from me, but one of the miko from the local shrine had actually come by here during lunch asking if we could hand these out to anyone who worked late. Didn't give much of an explanation, but at least it looks nice, doesn't it?"

"Well, um, thank you. It definitely does," I replied bemusedly as I accepted the talisman. I wasn't lying either, it almost felt like it was handmade compared to the typical omamori I saw prepared for tourists at gift shops or the like. It felt kind of heavy too, which made me curious, but I chose not to satisfy it — you weren't supposed to open the pouches, or else you would "release" the spiritual power. "Specifically for anyone who worked late, huh? Has there been anything going on here when it's that late…?"

It was kind of a stupid question — this was Shinjuku. We weren't exactly in red-light district Kabukicho, I wasn't that desperate for work that I'd spend any more time around the yakuza than I'd have to, but it wasn't like we were far away from it either. Still, for a miko to drop by around here in this time of the year and for that specific purpose made me feel that this wasn't some kind of advertisement, especially with a talisman this nice. Setsubun was a couple of weeks ago, and while Golden Week was going to be in a few more, the timing felt off.

My boss only responded with a shrug. "Nothing beyond the usual, you know? People move in, people move out, there's been a lot of new faces, but that's all."

The city government had been making a pretty strong push to make housing more affordable and available, it was one of the few reasons I could actually afford my own apartment, however cramped. Still, something felt off about the situation. That being said, it wasn't like there was much I could do with a feeling as vague as that.
"Well, at least that's good for business, no?" I said, mentally shrugging. I tied the talisman to my bag and put it on.

He chuckled. "That's right, that's right. See you tomorrow, Aizome-kun. Good night."

"Good night, Sakamoto-san," I replied with a smile, and left the warmth and the light of the restaurant to pedal into the neon-lit chiaroscuro of Shinjuku.

The thing about supernatural events, or most natural disasters in fact, is that most people who aren't horror movie victims don't tend to seek them out. We rather like to avoid them, in fact! When someone hears a weird noise, or sees a strange shape, or even has the hair raise on their neck for no particular reason, they rightfully want to get the fuck out of there, and the same went for me when I noticed the lights flickering out as I pedaled down the alleys back to my apartment.

Unfortunately for me, by the time you see something going wrong, it's typically too late to cleanly escape.

"I l-l-loooove you d-d-daaaaaarling…"

A cold gust of wind was the only warning I had to swerve hard left. Years of handling Tokyo traffic saved my second life as an amorphous mass sped downhill on my right, overshooting my position considerably. Slamming hard on my brakes, the dust settled as I came to a stop, giving me a fantastic view of what had almost killed me.

"Nope, nope, nope!" I immediately began backing away, trying to run back up the hill with the bike in tow so I could hit the flat road past.

What greeted my eyes appeared to be nothing else but a monster. As the lights continued to flicker and fade, the ghostly glow of the creature made its form more and more visible — a crouching, humanoid figure. Clothed in tattered rags that resembled a business suit, the ghost rocked back and forth like it was talking to itself. Tragically for both it and myself, it seemed that it wasn't satisfied with itself as company, and turned around to leap at me.

"W-w-where are you d-d-daaaaaarling…!"

With a feat of strength I didn't know I had, I immediately hurled my bike at the ghost. Unfortunately for me, it was a ghost, and so my precious 21-speed sailed right through the ectoplasm or whatever the hell made up the creature's body. Cursing under my breath, I fell flat like a cat, the ghost sailing over me like a sugar glider on crack.

Getting up with an ease I absolutely didn't have a day ago, I got a look at the beast's front now. Hearteningly, it didn't look like it was doing well — it appeared the facsimile of a suit it wore was in tatters for a reason. While its back seemed to be unharmed from a distance, its front wasn't so lucky, covered in slash wounds and pockmarked with burns. One of its limbs oddly from its side, with a few of its fingers appearing to be missing. Most importantly, half of its "face" appeared to be gone, the mask severed in half neatly, leaving only half of a depiction of a person's face in anguish painted on snow-white bone.

Not so hearteningly, however, was the cavernous void of its face, now visible due to its facial disfigurement, and the fact that wounded as it was, it was still preparing to attack me. Typically, predators are not the brave, bold rulers of the wild so commonly depicted in fiction. No, they're cowards, or at least — as they hunted for their food, they had to measure the cost of actually engaging with the hunt with whatever reserves of energy they had, as well as the risks of a failed hunt. A single wound could potentially lead to death — it wasn't like wild animals or ghosts had antibiotics to deal with infections. Or at least I hoped they didn't.

What that meant, of course, was that down one limb, half its face, and covered in wounds, the beast in front of me thought that it had a close to 100% chance of success in eating me, or was so desperate for food to recover that it was willing to spend itself entirely to kill me, and considering how fast it was, I gave the beast top marks on its mathematical skills. I probably wouldn't be able to run or hide.

The thing about a prey animal, in contrast to a predator, is that in a fight, it doesn't give a fuck. If it loses, it doesn't lose out on a meal. It loses out on a being able to actually live. If a predator is a coward, then prey must be courageous, for if it cannot run or hide, then it had only one option, the same option that was left to me.

"Hah… what a pain in the ass." I dropped my bag, but not before palming a certain pouch. I might be raised by a bunch of nuns, but that miko must have been passing around these for this reason, right? It's not like I had any better choices. "Well, it is what it is."

You know what though — a prayer to St. Michael wouldn't hurt either, might as well. Would be a bit of a waste memorizing all of those prayers at the pain of a ruler on my knuckles if I didn't use them when an actual evil spirit showed up in front of me. St. Michael the Archangel, defend us in battle—

Fight.

It was like a demented game of battleship, except that both of us could see each other in this shadowed alley. It tried to predict where I would be. I would try to predict where it would leap. Unfortunately, I had to be right every single time. It, on the other hand, only had to land in the right spot once before I went splat.

Well, it wasn't like I was every a graceful loser at board game night, anyhow.

"D-D-D-AAAARLIIIIIING!!"

The beast crashed into the wall where I was, wailing louder and louder, as was its wont. I coughed from the dust as I rolled away and kipped up, the now familiar event raising even more questions. Why did the ghost actually have physical damage landing into the wall, but my bike phase through? More importantly, where the fuck was everyone? Anyone? Was no one hearing the noise from this thing tearing up the street? More importantly where the hell were the people that hurt this thing so bad?

"I'M HOOOOOOOME, DAAAAAAAAARLING!!"

I jumped to the side again, my hands grasping a pole and flinging myself further down the street. Maybe it was for the best I had stared at those cats so long this morning, because the ideas I had bullshitted from watching them were the only things keeping me alive.

Moving with catlike grace, I worked my way to another area the ghost hadn't quite wrecked yet. Time was ticking down for the both of us. On one hand, my mobility rather relied on clear and easy traversal for a human, whilst the beast was doing just fine jumping through rubble. On the other, this goddamn hungry ghost was making so much noise that someone would hear it eventually, and in the meantime hopefully expending a shitload of energy with its wounds.

—but if it was burning energy, so was I. This demented game of cat and mouse had been going on for a while, and I didn't know how much longer it would go. How long I could go. There was a limited amount of space I could go to, and the ghost was intelligent enough that it knew that too. Realistically speaking, I had, one or two more evasive maneuvers I could execute.

Which meant it was now or never.

I clambered up the wall, my fingers and limbs channeling the ability for cats to walk on the smallest ledge. Carefully making my way up, I positioned myself carefully in order to carry out the stupidest plan possible. Taking the omamori out of my palm, I carefully wrapped it around my knuckles.

Right on time, the beast emerged. But this time, it looked different. Its wounds remained, one of its limbs remained crippled, but its mask… its mask had changed. The face it depicted was no longer anguished — instead, it was smiling.

Was it strong enough to kill me from the start, and was it no longer playing cat or mouse? Or was it like I hoped, and finally happy that I had grown desperate enough to climb up — up enough that I wouldn't be able to evade it like I had, as I couldn't push off things in the air?

It didn't matter. Either way, it was time to finish things.

"THERE YOU ARE, DARLING!!"

It leapt. I jumped.

It opened its mouth. I swung my fist.

And as the omamori made contact with the bone of its mask, something, somehow, unwound in my heart, my mind, my soul, and everything became so very, very, bright—

For an eternity and a moment, I dreamed. And as I dreamed, I bore witness. I was taught and learned. And so I became—.

I was a boy, learning how to fight from my father—

I was a man, crawling like a dog to move faster and faster—

I was a Saint — King — Emperor

I was the North God, cutting down the Demon King with my comrades—

I was the North God, cutting down the Dragon King with Incurable Wounds—

I was the North God, cutting down the Dead End with Kajakut—

—Aizome Haru, the newest practitioner of North God Style. And like those who came before me, I would be victorious, no matter what.

I came to, and I saw my enemy before me.

"...d-d-darling?"

I walked over to the beast, and saw that its had been further broken, leaving only what was its "mouth" still intact. Somehow, that was enough for it to still speak.

"W-w-why can't I s-s-see you?"

That didn't matter though. What did matter was that it couldn't see me, and hadn't heard me either as I walked over with catlike steps.

"I-i-it hurts. It wasn't supposed to h-h-hurt-"

I gathered my newly unlocked Battle Aura, and grasped victory.

Those who know me, please don't read this. This is not a place of honor. Those who don't know me, I'm sorry.

Anyhow, yeah, this is a slightly modified Celestial Dojo. Standard 100 points every 2000 words, but the MC has no choice -- either autobuy, or instantly dropped if they can't afford it and they bank the points. They don't really view this as a System thing either because it's easier for me to write up so they mostly instinctively grasp things, save for proper techniques and stuff so they actually know things by vibes.

In any case, here's the rolls of this chapter (I gave MC-kun a perk for free at the start so the ball would start rolling immediately):

Animalistic Incorporation ~~200 CP~~ Free
As a delinquent you are less bound to the hard and fast rules of traditional martial arts styles. Using animals you have observed as an inspiration, you are able to incorporate their naturalistic movements into your style. While you will not have the strength of the animals observed, your motions will be more efficient through mimicking them, and new techniques may be derived from their actions (i.e. incorporating the movement of cats would make a martial art more acrobatic, while incorporating the movements of a mantis would add sudden precise strikes to it repertoire). Source: History's Strongest Disciple Kenichi, Chapter: Talent

~~Latent Talent - 200 CP~~
While hard work can allow one to surpass their limits, talent can still help. For example, if similar individuals train the same amount the highly one would greatly surpass their partner. Luckily for you, you've been blessed with an immense amount of talent. You will find that you will learn and grow at rate dozens of times faster than others. This perk will affect any form of learning or training you undertake. Just remember you still need time to actually develop your skills. ~~Source: Dragon Ball, Chapter: Talent~~

North God Style - 200 CP
A style that extends outside standard combat. North God Style focuses on utility, sneak attacks, psychology, and escape as ways of achieving victory. Users often pick their battles carefully or make use of strange techniques like swordplay that shines light in an enemy's eyes, bluffing during combat, or coating weapons with poison. Users are quite effective at making it past the defenses of a Water God user but can have trouble keeping up with the techniques of a Sword God style user. Source: Mushoku Tensei, Chapter: Martial Art

Thanks for reading, see you next time.

BlueHelix · Jul 12, 2026

CHAPTER TWO: SUDDENLY, ONE DAY

It may not surprise anyone with an awareness of the implications of how big pet cafés were in Japan or the knowledge that it was the biggest legal market for elephant ivory remaining, but animal rights in Japan was pretty far behind the times. Intellectually, I understood that people didn't care enough about animals to actually make their lives better — the continual legal loopholes for ivory to fuel the demand for traditional biwa or shamisen or simply for the perceived best material for hanko was explanation enough, but I didn't really get it until I went to Ueno Zoo.

Taking advantage of my frontloaded class schedule that day — nothing after third period, but in exchange I had to be up bright and early as was the burden and curse of underclassmen, I decided to fill the gap in time before work with going to the zoo. Cost of attendance was relatively cheap, and miraculously my bicycle hadn't been rendered unusable by my impromptu Ghostbusters performance, so it was easy enough to go. This world's YouTube equivalent hadn't really taken off yet, so I couldn't really harvest it for insights, and in absence of better options to observe exotic animals, Japan's oldest zoo felt like a pretty good consolation prize. Considering how tired I was from a wombo-combo of a full shift of work last night and then getting jumped, I figured that I could recharge from seeing animals while also refining my techniques further — the fact that one of the better movement techniques I could use at the moment involved crawling on all four limbs was kind of hysterical.

As I walked from the Eastern Garden to the Western Garden, doing my best to keep from wincing when moving with judicious use of Battle Aura, I had a pretty sharp suspicion that I probably would have better off finding a place to meditate or slowly practice my forms. While the zoo had been making some strides, the Gorilla Woods and the Penguin Walk to allow for more enrichment for a few animals, frankly most of them were still kept in the old cement and iron enclosures. With a few exceptions like the bird and insect exhibits, there were no insights to be garnered at all — most of the animals were even more miserable than the average Japanese salaryman, and that was saying something. Lacking enrichment or options to do anything they would do in the wild, they spent their day either eating, sleeping, or walking around in circles in a concrete enclosure awaiting something to eat. It was even more depressing to see exhibits where there were only one animal available — the giant panda Ling Ling had been deprived of any other giant pandas to interact with since 2000.

Realistically speaking, most people didn't care enough about animals unless it was personal, this was far from some kind of uniquely Japanese phenomena. Industrialized agriculture had undoubtedly saved billions of lives and made meat available on scales unimaginable to someone a century ago. Production had roughly tripled, and quite a lot of that was built on animals suffering through inhumane conditions but was neatly removed from the public eye for the most part. I supposed it just hit harder for me walking through glitzy Shibuya or glamorous Harajuku and contemplating what happened to "exotic" animals like otters or owls, or even pigs once they grew out of their easily marketable phase.

Or maybe because I had almost been eaten myself last night. That probably wasn't nothing, either, haha. I shook my head, trying to clear my thoughts, but I had the feeling that the experience would linger for a long time.

Mood thoroughly shot and time mostly wasted, I walked out of the zoo, contemplating my options. Given the fact that the radio nor the newspapers nor any other news source were announcing the fact that a street was torn up at all with massive craters, not even a thinly veiled excuse of "gas leaks" or whatever was the flavor of the month, there was something keeping things on the down low in Tokyo. Whether it be the government, some sort of supernatural organization maintaining the "masquerade," or a combination of the two or something else, going and talking about this was probably not the smartest of ideas.

Investigating supernatural occurrences was probably going to be a pain in the ass, too. I'd really like to determine what precisely had spawned that ghost on my ass last night, but it wasn't like I could attempt to access recent police or death reports — some countries may have released such things publicly, but Japan had those locked up tight due to various legislation, with the former sealed for decades and the latter limited to those close to the deceased. Probably for good reason, especially if they were covering up supernatural incidents, but that meant that I'd have to be asking around on what spawned that ghost. It sure as hell wasn't the normal kind of yūrei, considering I wasn't insane enough to be biking around the streets of Shinjuku-ku at 2 o'clock in the morning, nor was that hulking beast anything like what yūrei were shown like in the books or movies I had seen when growing up — it wasn't exactly wearing white burial clothing.

For all I knew, it might not even be a ghost in the first place. If I really wanted to find out what was going on in that area, I'd probably need to track down that miko in the first place, and be careful about that too. The omamori was nigh-certainly the difference between life and death for me last night, and although it spoke well of her that she was giving them out at random for anyone who worked late at night, that still meant she was able to give out a significant amount of ghostbusting talismans good enough to lay a ghost like that flat on its ass, even as damaged as it was.

Speaking of damaged, something or someone out there, or possibly multiple someones at that, were strong enough to hurt that beast to the point where it fled in my direction. The newfound memories and skills dumped in my head made me lean toward someones over somethings — the slash wounds felt like sword marks, if ones that could burn the flesh of a ghost. There were any number of possibilities, but my gut instinctively felt that there was some connection with the clerical attire-wearing group at university yesterday. After classes today, I had checked which direction they had been heading, and that corner of Shinjuku was in the general area. But if I could make an educated guess at the miko's character from her giving out the omamori and Sakamoto-san's tacit approval, I had no idea what to even aim to guess at with them. The Church had all types — some good enough to staff children's homes like the one I had grown up in, but I wasn't naive enough to think that would always be the case. If the rampant sexual abuse cases, although those hadn't really blown up yet because the various cover-ups of them, wasn't enough indication of the possible presence of bad actors that could endanger me, then flipping open a history textbook would have more than sufficed. Especially to someone who was… what I was now.

Whatever that was. The skill and power that I had at my fingertips were something I very much did not have before yesterday. Without a doubt they had saved my life from whatever yōkai had come for me that night, but as I reviewed my day yesterday, I had been granted something since I had woken up that morning, the ability to translate animal traits into insights for martial arts techniques. What had prompted that? Was it prompted by anything, or was it pure chance, or was it related to anything else?

After all, hadn't I woken up with memories of another life, all those years ago? From what I remembered from the endless torment of Sunday School classes, Catholicism officially taught that reincarnation didn't exist, as people were destined to only die once, with judgment handed down afterward, but to be honest, Catholic doctrine hadn't prepared me to deal with whatever the hell was happening last night. I was pretty open to other explanations, because going to a normal priest about this would probably sound insane, and I lacked the knowledge to find a priest who was "in the know."

Even then, that didn't disallow the possibility that I was just someone who had received memories of another world, of another time — just like I had with the North God Style. A style that had been created and refined for the sake of doing anything to grasp victory against a Demon king, but had spawned endless variations and lineages. The knowledge in my head would take lifetimes to explore fully, ranging from deplorable things like how to fight with a hostage, noncombat skills like how to camp, cook, and perform first aid, to terrifying techniques like how to cut down an immortal forever.

It was a style that had one philosophy — victory at any cost — but many teachers. Now that I had received memories of more than just one life, there was nothing to say that I wouldn't receive more and more. There was nothing to say that simply existing as I was wouldn't attract more beings, more events, more risks to my life. Was it sheer bad luck that I had been attacked last night instead of the numerous other individuals who had been working late in that area of Shinjuku-ku last night, or had whatever that had been downloading things into my skull made me more attractive of a meal?

Sighing, I wiped at my face with my sleeve. Enough time had been wasted by the trip to the zoo alone, I couldn't exactly afford to spend more of it in my own head rather than doing anything productive. While I sure as hell wasn't excited that someone or something had attached some kind of repository of combat techniques to my head, it had saved my life, and with confirmation that things were lurking in the dark, it was decidedly better to make use of it than to not. I could worry about what was going on with me after I figured out whatever the hell was going on in this city, or really, this world.

I supposed that was that. The miko was my only real lead of what was going on last night that I could realistically pursue that I knew for sure had some level of real knowledge and power. And at the very least, her omamori had saved my life — needing to give thanks for that would be sufficient cause alone for me to seek her out. What a pain, though — in order to do that, I'd have to do what would fill any person who worked for a living with dread.

Go to their workplace early.

Walking into Sakamoto-san's restaurant outside of my usual work hours was a fairly strange experience. I didn't recall the last time I had actually walked in through the front door instead of the staff entrance, and I was pretty certain I had never visited during lunch hours, so my eyes were greeted with something that was more akin to a cafe than the izakaya I was more used to. The eatery was brightly lit, the blinds wide open and the ceiling lights shining in a way I was quite unused to, casting the room in a way that shifted the atmosphere tremendously. Although most of the furniture remained the same, the bar itself had transformed through the simple act of concealing the liquor shelves with functional but still complementary sliding cabinet doors. Most significantly in my opinion, however, was that during the daytime there was no nagashi or busking musician playing — instead, smooth jazz and bold French bossa nova records played on a phonograph I had never seen before.

Instead of immediately trying to get some answers as soon as possible like I had originally wanted to, I let the music wash over me for a couple of minutes. I liked city pop and Shibuya-kei as much as the next person, but there was a limit to how much Mariya Takeuchi I could tolerate, and I hadn't listened to Miles Davis in so long. One of the biggest things I missed from the future was the sheer ease of access to music. Sure, the golden age of music piracy was still alive, since although Napster had fallen a few years back, Limewire had still survived, but I missed being able to look up any kind of music I liked at my leisure. It was what it was, however, and I had spent enough time reminiscing. It was time to get down to brass tacks, and so I waved down Sakamoto-san, who had either somehow not seen me or saw fit to give me some space.

"Aizome-kun, if you were so eager to get to work, you should have let me know!" The jovial older man came over with a smile. Strangely enough, however, it shifted to a frown. "...Haru-san, are you quite alright?"

Ah.

The thing about Battle Aura was that while it boosted defenses and physical ability, what it didn't do was grant a healing factor. So while it kept my arm safe enough to protect it from the detonation of the omamori, it couldn't fix up all the other scrapes from the preceding… events. 'That being said though, although I was still in quite a bit of pain if I jostled myself too much, the foundational advanced technique of North God Style — the ability to adjust aura precisely to how I needed it to be — I both protected my injuries from worsening while easing my physical activities significantly. Although I was far from being able to rapidly fine-tune it during combat to adjust to any and all opponents, given a bit of time and testing it was enough for me to continue to bike around Tokyo.

Nevertheless, I must have looked like quite the sight to my boss. My injuries weren't anything to the point that I couldn't patch myself up with the first-aid kit that I had at home, and literal multiple lifetimes of practice let me take care of my wounds with relative ease, but I supposed showing up anywhere while being visibly bandaged probably was a little worrying.

"Well, ups and down, Sakamoto-san. A bit of a traffic accident happened on my way back home from work, but it looks a lot worse than it actually is, and a lot better than it could have been." I gave him a shrug as I responded in a relaxed tone. I was very much not relaxed, but a considerable amount of North God Style involved, in the terms of LinkedIn influencers, "transferable and valuable skills" like "lying" and "bluffing," so I made do. "It's actually why I wanted to come swing by before my shift, since classes let me out early today. Could you tell me the name of the miko that gave you the omamori yesterday, or where she practices? I'd like to thank her for it, I feel like I'd be in an unfortunate position if I didn't have it."

"I'm sure Kasumi-chan would appreciate it, but I'm not sure if I feel comfortable sending you off to her, Aizome-kun, you look quite… hungry. Let me get you something to eat." With an impeccable sense of timing, my stomach growled, cutting the tension that had invisibly built as well silencing any protest I could have had. I could only watch with an awkward smile as he bustled off with an urgency I hadn't seen from him before, not allowing me any further response. Did I really look that bad?

The gaping pit that was my stomach probably indicated that I did, now that I thought about it. I hadn't accounted for my caloric requirements increasing from utilizing Battle Aura. As useful as it was, Battle Aura wasn't free — the utilization and manipulation of mana, the fuel for Battle Aura, was inextricably linked to the user's life force. Overuse without the ability to recoup resources and rest would naturally lead to someone weakening which meant that I had been traversing Tokyo having only eaten my typical breakfast when my caloric use was probably massively increased.

I put my head in my hand and sighed. I was already on a tight budget with groceries, but it wasn't just a caloric problem. If it was just a matter of pure fuel, I could lean hard with just putting in ludicrous amounts of oil and fat. That was the trick on how resturaunts made food taste so good, incidentally — they were just tremendously unafraid to use more fat and oil than most home cooks were comfortable with, and it barely affected plate size. Most neutral oils were pretty cheap too, unless you sprung for something like avocado oil or particularly authentic Italian olive oils, which I doubted were even in stock at the places I shopped at. No, what would be troublesome would be that I would need to eat like I was a professional athlete, and possibly more.

I would need to eat more animal protein to fuel muscle growth as well as supply additional iron for increased oxygen delivery and metabolism, more leafy vegetables and dairy products for calcium to support bone growth as well as various other nutrients, and I might have to spring for some fish for additional vitamin D and healthier fats. Those were all things I'd like to do anyway, but those went from "goals" to "necessities" if I was going to be a serious fighter, which was also a necessity due to the presence of literal people-eating ghosts in the city. And I doubted I would be fortunate enough to only have to concern with ghosts, either.

"Haaaah, what a pain in the ass," I groaned. "Where am I going to even put all the food I need too?"

I lived in what was essentially a shoebox of an apartment. If I wanted to even attempt to afford the food I'd need, I'd need to purchase items in bulk, and that required storage. Cold storage, to boot, so unless I had access to a magical inventory, this would be a hassle. Rubbing my face, I was broken out of my hunger-fueled annoyance with the classic solution for it — a hot, delicious meal. But as I saw Sakamoto-san approach, my eyes widened. This was not the "family meal" of a fresh katsu curry that I typically got for free before a shift. Or well, it was included, but in significantly larger and different fashion — it was a teishoku on steroids.

The first thing that caught my eye looked to be at least a pound and a half of pork katsudon atop an enormous plate of steaming white rice, paired with eggs and simmered in a special onion broth. On one side was a plate of fresh karaage glazed in a namban vinegar sauce with a number of sauces. On another was a bowl of curry rice, but instead of a chicken or pork cutlet, deep fried shrimp and hamburg steak accompanied it. Topping it all off, or washing it all down, I supposed, was a light miso soup, and a pot of tea on the side. It was one of the most mouthwatering things I had seen in this life, blasting the growls of my stomach away, letting another worry take the fore.

"Wait, Sakamoto-san, how much do I owe—"

"Nothing, Aizome-kun," the older man said, his expression shaped by a wry grin as he set down the veritable platter. "I don't know what happened last night, but you look pale as a ghost. The least I can do for my hardest worker is to give a little extra for a free meal. Think of it as congratulations for starting university, at the very least. You've worked very hard."

Without aplomb, he stood back up in full. I hadn't realized it before, but sitting down, he was very, very tall, back only slightly stooped with age. His shoulders and arms were wide, built from years of carrying this business on his back through thick and thin, and his hands scarred with innumerable burns and knife scars, adorned only with a simple gold wedding band. Yet even with all of that, his mustached face was filled with a kindness that could only have been described as resolved, and so any response beyond simple gratitude died in my throat.

"Thank you for the meal, Sakamoto-san."

He ruffled my hair with his hand. It probably smelled strongly of food, but I found I didn't care that much.

"Enjoy the food. And take the rest of the day — no, week off. It'll be no good for you if you hurt yourself if you're not a hundred percent."

Then he left me with the food, and the last thread of my restraint on my all-devouring hunger snapped. With a quiet itadakimasu, I took hold of the spoon and began tearing into the meal.

As it turned out, in the end, I wasn't able to find the miko. Instead, she was the one to find me, having returned to the restaurant, although for what reason I couldn't say. Perhaps she was regularly patrolling the area, perhaps she had detected the beast's death, or perhaps even the destruction or usage of whatever had been within the omamori. Sakamoto-san had known her by name, so maybe he had just plainly contacted her — if so, that would be another mark on the ledger of debts I had owed to him.

In any case, it was fortunate for both the miko and I that she had only arrived after I finished the majority of the meal I had been gifted. Although I still retained the presence of mind to still maintain some semblance of table manners, my second childhood's extremely effective indoctrination of common courtesy still holding strong, I had damn near torn into the dishes with the ferocity of a wild animal, and while I was no zoologist, in terms of animal movements I was hardly an amateur.

That speed and urgency led me to only sipping from the tea that Sakamoto-san had provided — a warm, nutty hojicha. The almost nutty-tasting green tea cut through the richness of the meal with alacrity while softly complementing the savory flavors, which was great because I could speak without my mouth being full when a young woman slipped into my booth before slapping something — probably an ofuda, if I was on the right track, on the underside of the table. Something quiet snapped around the table, and instinctively I could tell that it was muffling sound from leaving the area. So she was already laying cards on the table, so to speak, huh? Then I could only answer in response.

"Nice to meet you, miko-san," I greeted politely, placing my cup of hojicha down. "My name is Aizome Haru, and I would like to thank you, because the omamori you gave to Sakamoto-san to pass on saved my life by blowing up a giant ghost."

Unfortunately, that did not seem to be what she expected to hear, as the sharp-looking young woman — dressed no different from any other college-aged student, as I doubted anyone wanted to wear work attire out and about even when they were priestess robes, or perhaps especially so — sat in silence for a minute. Seeing as she was obviously thinking through some stuff, I got up and cleared my plates before requesting another cup and a refill of the tea. A much happier-looking Sakamoto-san acquiesced, and topped me up before fishing through the back and giving me a very pretty pair of cups to replace my own. Blown from glass, perhaps? With a mental shrug, I took my tray back and filled both cups before handing my non-conversational guest one. To my surprise, she actually did take one with a slightly embarrassed cough sipping a few with an appreciative hum before clearing her throat.

"My apologies, Aizome-san, I was caught a little off-guard of your statement. Allow me to introduce myself as well — my name is Nishina Kasumi, and I am an apprentice shrine maiden of the guardian shrine of Yotsuya, the one to the west of the Shinjuku Gyo-en." She took another sip of her tea before continuing, her gaze sharpening inquisitively. "I am gladdened to hear that I was of assistance to you, but I would ask you to forgive me for troubling you further. Please tell me everything about your encounter with this ghost."

I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath, the twinge in my ribs bringing the memories into sharp relief in my mind as my gray matter churned. The ghost was easy enough, but something told me that telling her everything in a public area, no matter the privacy ofuda, was probably not the wisest idea. Still — as much as I could pursue my own training as is, she was my current best, albeit only, source on supernatural world. And she had still gone around, publicly offering clearly effective omamori for free to the public, and that had to count for something, no? So a leap of faith could be afforded. Trust, but verify, right? I exhaled, and did my best to speak clearly and steadily.

"After I ended my shift and Sakamoto-san gave me the omamori you asked him to distribute, I began to bike home. It's about a kilometer west to here, towards Nishi-Shinjuku — the rent is cheaper there with all the newer compact developments. About half a kilometer there, I noticed the streetlights beginning to flicker, which normally doesn't occur, so I did my best to pedal faster. Unfortunately, that was when the ghost attempted to strike from behind — I only barely managed to dodge it by swerving."

Grasping my glass cup, strangely iridescent as the reddish-brown color of the hojicha filtered the afternoon sunlight coming through the windows. I took a sip of the tea, wetting my suddenly parched throat.

"I attempted to hurl my bike at it first, but it passed right through it, which is when I first thought it was a ghost. It started to wail something about finding its "darling" before attempting to strike again, which I also managed to evade — it really only attacked in a straight line, which I think was because it was heavily wounded. One of its limbs, I think the front left one, wasn't used in the entire encounter, and its entire body was covered with wounds, from both sword slashes and what appeared to be gunshot wounds writ large. Oh, and half of its face, or mask, I'm not sure, was missing, from what I could tell."

I took another deep breath before finishing my cup of tea, the warmth and slight bitterness refocusing myself. I considered pouring myself another, but I mentally discarded the thought in favor of pressing on. Best to finish it, I could drink however much tea I wanted when Nishina-san explained whatever was going on.

"That kind of game of cat-and-mouse continued on for… I don't know how long, but it felt like five or ten minutes? It jumped, I dodged, and it landed, cratering the street. It seemed content to keep on doing this — I think both of us were playing for time, in a sense. I was attempting to stall out for long enough that whatever had wounded it would come by to finish it off, and it was enjoying herding me around. Maybe it was feeding off my fear, I don't know. Whatever the case, it was tiring me out more than I was tiring it out — coming off a long shift working here seemed to have done more to drain my stamina than whatever had happened to it, so I decided to make a gamble."

Closing my eyes to gather myself, the memories began to truly flow. The feel of the silk brocade against my clammy hand. The shining bright light as it detonated against the ghost's mask. The warmth of Battle Aura flowing from my chest. The wet spatter of ectoplasm as I stomped through its head—

I exhaled.

"After climbing up a wall, I tied the omamori around my fingers, so when I made a fist, it would be facing outwards. When the dust settled, the beast made its way out, but this time, its mask had altered — the half of the mask it had kept was smiling. It and I jumped for each other at the same time, and I managed to punch it in the face, after which something exploded with a shining bright light, and I passed out for a minute or two. After coming too, I felt something burning in my chest, and saw that the beast was still lying there, with only a quarter of its mask remaining, the mouth. The entire time, it was wailing for its darling, so I put it out of its misery. After that, I biked home, patched myself up, and fell asleep."

Sometime in the middle of my… debriefing, Nishina-san had taken out a notebook and began taking notes. I could only catch a few words before she closed it after I finished — inheritor, exorcist, and… what looked to be jingi? Divine Treasure? That seemed strangely familiar to me for some reason. Nevertheless, after giving me a moment to catch my breath and drink some tea, she began to speak.

"I'm terribly sorry about what happened to you, Aizome-san. Something like that should have never happened to you, and part of it is at least partially the fault of our shrine. Quieting ghosts is our responsibility, and the fact that we did not purify it before it attacked you is our failure. Please accept our apologies."

She bowed her head at that moment, before raising it, clearly giving me a moment to speak if I needed to. However, I remained silent. What could I even say? I clearly didn't even have a quarter of the facts involved. Recognizing that, she continued onward.

"What attacked you was a gaki, a hungry ghost, driven by the need to eat rather than an onryō's need to right any wrongs. It was actually one of a pair, resulting from a young couple's shinjū. Their deaths were not discovered for some time as they apparently had no family or friends nearby, their bodies discovered only a week later as a neighbor checked on them. Apparently the husband had lost his job some time ago and had been unable to find a new one. With no family to fall back on and their savings having run out, they fell into despair, and thus their spirits degenerated extremely quickly."

The memory of the ghost — gaki's wailing filled my mind. Double suicide, huh? That would sure produce a ghost. But wait, a pair? Before I could ask, Nishina-san continued onward, preemptively answering my question.

"I apologize for the digression. The wounds that your assailant had suffered likely came from a group of Catholic Exorcists stationed in Bunkyo-ku and Chiyoda-ku — the gunshot and slash wounds that seem seared into the flesh are indicative of the Light Weaponry that they wield, typically. I suppose they managed to kill one of the pair but couldn't finish off the other. I suppose our shrine will have to inform them of both of their failures, although they likely already know if the neighborhood was already sanitized by this morning. We will of course leave your name out, unless you would prefer otherwise?"

Unfortunately for her, my mind was still stuck on the fact that there were actual, no-shit Catholic Exorcists stationed in Tokyo, and probably right out of my school to boot! I had suspected, sure, but was Sophia University also doubling as an Exorcist training facility? The Bishop sure had to know, but who else did? Did the priests? Did my mo—the nuns know? What the fuck?

"That's fine — could you explain what you mean by Catholic Exorcists?"

Nishina-san nodded.

"Ah, of course. A full explanation will take quite some time and this privacy ofuda is wearing out, but I could give you a summary. Is that acceptable to you?"

"That's fine, if you can give that full explanation later," I replied.

"I absolutely will, just come by the shrine and I will give you the full details." Opening up that notebook again, she scribbled down a few lines before tearing it out and giving it to me. "That's my phone number, as well as the address of the shrine. Just give me a call, and I can schedule an appointment."

Glancing at the scrap of paper for a moment, I folded it up and putting it into my wallet. The first time I got a girl's phone number in this life, and it took me getting attacked by a ghost. Ah well, it was what it was.

"All sorts of supernatural factions inhabit Japan — the Five Principal Clans are a powerful group of Shinto families that like to say they ward the entirety of Japan, but in truth they are one of many. The East and West Youkai factions have stationed themselves out of Kanto and Kyoto respectively, and the Church has established a bastion in Tokyo after the Pacific War and various other outposts throughout the islands. In response the Devils have a foothold in a number of places, such as the delightfully named Kuoh-chu, and the Grigori—"

Nishina-san continued onward, and I continued listening, but my mind had well and thoroughly been blasted off into my space. After her explanation and the privacy field dissolved, I accepted an ofuda she said would be able to accelerate my recovery. After promising to give her a call by the end of the week, she left the restaurant, and after finishing my tea and cleaning up after myself. With my afternoon suddenly free from work, I went home to my apartment, the small walls suddenly no longer feeling claustrophobic but were somehow now comforting. I attempted to study, but my thoughts were focused on something thoroughly else—

—the fact that the world I now inhabited was an ecchi shounen light novel series that I never finished reading because the translation on Baka-Tsuki got fucking DMCA'd and I sure as hell wasn't going to watch the anime. A town called "King Piece Town" that was inhabited by Devils. "Three Factions." It wasn't "Divine Treasures," it was Sacred fucking Gears. It was absolutely Highschool DxD. And the series wasn't even finished either, the author apparently never finished the arc where alien gods from another world who cut down the Great Red Dragon of the Apocalypse invaded either, so even if I theoretically did finish all of the volumes I wouldn't even know how it would have ended either!

It probably would have had some kind of happy ending, because it was an ecchi shounen light novel series, but there was a very real risk that that would involve an awful lot of collateral damage, considering how much of the Underworld got torn up by the Hero Faction. Dead God above, I already had my plate full with the near-apocalyptic economic crash in my future and this rancid, stagnant economy, and I had to deal with an actual apocalypse too?

I sighed. At least I wasn't totally helpless, and spiraling over things wouldn't help. After screaming into my futon, I decided to go finish up my homework and go to sleep, making a note to find a place to practice tomorrow. Maybe the shrine would be a good place, but there were sure to be other options. Even if Tokyo was undergoing the "Urban Renaissance," tearing down and redeveloping block upon block, there were plenty of places to go about unnoticed in the industrial areas. Tokyo Bay's waterfront was full of them after the deindustrialization post-war and then the Bubble popping. And in places to just work out and practice the North God Style on a less obviously supernatural basis, I could do that basically wherever. All I had to do was figure out my food situation, and I was basically set.

Satisfied with having at least determined things I could focus on and plan out tomorrow, I decided to sleep, the warmth of the ofuda Nishina-san gifted me soothing my thoroughly fried brain and body.

I woke up to a flame in my heart and my brain flooded with even more memories that were somehow my own this time but I knew were very much not. More on how to fight, on how to destroy, on how to kill.

Instinctively, I knew if I lost control right now, I could blow up not just my apartment, but this entire building. So I did what I was doing an awful lot these past few days, breathing in deep for four seconds, holding it for another four, and breathing out.

No pain greeted me in response, and I knew then if I took off my shirt and examined myself, I would find not just a changed mind, but a changed body as well.

Fuck them plans, I supposed.

Gathering myself, I repeated my actions from two days ago, reaching out to my right and grabbed my cell phone. This time, however, I also opened up my wallet and pulled out the slip of paper I was given yesterday as well.

I flicked open the cell phone. 6:57, three minutes before my alarm would have went off. Small blessings. I offered up a mental prayer that I wasn't waking Nishina-san up, and dialed the number.

Holy double post! But I promised an update by tonight, so yeah.

Before I literally even say anything else, here's the rolls:

The Lonely Path
200 CP
- Oftentimes, you'll have to figure something out on your own. Be it a new technique, an application of an old skill, or a strategy for beating a specific opponent. With this, you can look to yourself for inspiration, taking an outward perspective of your own thoughts and examining them from new angles to help further progress yourself and grow stronger. You can even go so far as to "hallucinate" a mock opponent to try new ideas out on, though they aren't exactly a real sparring partner.
Source: Cradle, Chapter: Refinement

Captain
200 CP
Powerhouses of the spiritual worlds, this is the divide that separates the weak from the strong. Those at this level are the Captains, Espada and Stern Ritter of their kind, albeit the weaker and less experienced members of these august ranks. As one of the longer lived races, you may very well be a centuries old warrior, with a well rounded understanding of both combat and your races' unique abilities. Highly capable in most areas, from combat to technique to racial magic. A Bankai, if not fully mastered, or Resurreccion is expected at this point. Your spiritual power has reached what most would consider the level of an 'average' Shinigami Captain and you're likely to be a frontline fighter for any faction you join. Some examples are thus. A Shinigami might be equal to Captain Komamura or Captain Hitsugaya early in the story, powerful but hardly the cream of the crop as they are now. A Hollow would be one of the lower Espada, an Adjuchas made Arrancar through the Hogyoko, such as Grimmjow or Nnoitra. Of the Quincy, the lesser Stern Ritter such as Candice Catnipp or Bazz B are a good example. Of the Fullbringers, Ginjo before he takes Ichigo Kurosaki's powers is a capable representative and Artificial Spirits could look to powerful Bount like Jin Kariya or enhanced souls like Nemu.
Source: Bleach, Chapter: Source

Tenacity
100 CP
Willpower, the drive to keep going no matter what kind of setbacks you face. Even after dead friends, after lost limbs, even after the immense pains of torture; if you can find a reason to live, you won't break. So yes, you can ignore pain and injuries with this perk but they are still present.
Source: Feng Shen Ji, Chapter: Refinement

Fuck them plans for real, I guess. I was putting together some preliminary plans for the next few chapters, but a friend of mine told me to do some pre-rolls so I wouldn't get totally surprised and make things flow well, and I guess I owe them a lot for that.

To be clear, Haru isn't an actual Captain level fighter (whatever the fuck that means when it includes Jobsugaya), it's pretty contextual for species, and as much of a beast that Vasco Strada is, three of the other top 5 Strongest Humans are Sacred Gear merchants, and the fourth, Arthur, is a Holy Sword merchant as well. Vasco's the only one who's up there off of basically sheer physical might and the Holy Fist he developed himself.

On the other hand, even the sheer physical stats of the other like, "frontline human combatants" that we see from those who are high tier but not the apex of the world -- the other Hero Faction combatants can reliably contest with the protagonists of DxD (Heracles, for example, would fit the context of like a Komamura of the Hero faction, lmao), then there's Ewald Cristaldi who can speedcheck Kiba later on in the series (albeit it takes Rapidly to push him over the edge) and beats the crap out of the squad he faces before Kiba absorbed the sword's powers. Although Cristaldi is probably cheating and despite the fact he was using 3 Excalibur Fragments, even if he's not "Top 5" he's still mentioned in the same name as Vasco as someone who can still whip the top level of devils, so I'm pretty comfortable at the moment just putting Haru at like, high end of Hero Faction, so like Heracles, Connla, Jeanne.

On the third, mutant hand, there's also the fact that this probably also applies to North God Style too, and "top end but like not apex tier" is really nasty there too, so I'm going to have to work out how that works too. Maybe King or Emperor rank? I don't know. The first three comments in this thread were involving power systems and powerlevels, so help me out here haha.

In any case, this chapter was a lot of internal thought and dialogue/exposition, so it's a little transitory. I'll try to get to some punching again sooner rather than later.

Tokyo is full of resentment and despair at the moment, after all.

BlueHelix · Jul 20, 2026

CHAPTER THREE: HAIL MARY

Something interesting to realize about the early 2000s in Japan, and Tokyo in particular was that there just… weren't a lot of cameras? That didn't mean there were none, of course, I lived in Shinjuku, and there was quite a significant hue and cry about the implementation of 50 surveillance cameras in Kabukicho due to a certain spike in crime a couple of years ago in 2002, something of a high watermark of crime in the city, something the police had blamed upon the economic downturn, although some of it was probably linked due to the police reporting changes after the scandals in the 1990s, where supposed "trivial" offenses were actually reported, driving up statistics. Nevertheless, that year had been a pretty big flashpoint due to the upcoming election, especially thanks to high-profile cases like the Setagaya family murders being unsolved and the Ikeda elementary school massacres just a year or two prior.

In any case, the metropolitan government itself passed an ordinance to encourage local groups to install cameras in order form cooperative CCTV networks, and places with high amount of economic activity forged the way, like Ginza, and growth continued on, but it was rather slow, and most importantly decentralized. A lot of the focus of CCTV cooperatives were more about "community guardianship" more than anything else — the most centralized urban public area camera system was to monitor road traffic and track down stolen cars and the like.

To be clear, it wasn't like there was no effort towards a surveillance state, around the same year Tokyo got covered in high-speed fiber internet, there was a law passed that mandated ISPs monitor for concerning traffic and content, which made me think very hard about using a search engine to look up any of the key terms I wanted, and while some VPNs were accessible, I couldn't help but consider the possibilities of how that might be bypassed with magic in the mix. Wasn't DxD's magic for humans largely mathematics based? I vaguely remembered some CIA agent with a tech-controlling Sacred Gear — if it was an urban fantasy light novel, you could count on Americans to have some kind of tech-magic combo, and some kind of European royal family being relevant.

Putting fears of magical internet surveillance aside, all of that was to say that it was surprisingly rather easy to traverse Tokyo itself by rooftop. The cameras were few, and frankly speaking most of them weren't exactly examining up rather than down, toward more normal paths of traversal. This wasn't the heady days of the years leading up to the 2020 Olympics, where I had heard Tokyo was covered with thousands of cameras to ensure security, and it was before various other incidents motivated further and further coverage. To be honest, it was probably against the supernatural's best interests to see places coated with cameras, so there was probably significant amounts of backing weighing the scale toward privacy concerns over security at the moment. So all I had to use was my now unmistakably preternatural perception to scan the area, use my undoubtedly unnatural amounts of experience shoved into my head to formulate the best routes, and use what was most likely the irreversible alterations to my now-supernatural body to trivially bound from block to block. Tokyo wasn't exactly a grid-based city, and its blocks could range from a hundred meters long to close to half a kilometer, but ensconced with a speed and stealth adjusted Battle Aura, my legs strode the four-kilometer distance between Nishina-san's shrine and my apartment distance with the same level of ease as walking to the convenience store.

I was lucky enough — or perhaps Nishina-san had been prepared enough — to have the shrine maiden pick up the phone within two rings, and even more fortunate for her to be able to meet even at the crack of dawn. She clearly was either well-compensated by the shrine or lived within or close enough to it in order to agree to a meeting within fifteen minutes of my phone call, but I supposed that despite speaking fairly calmly and doing my best to not reveal too much information through the phone due to my perhaps just-correctly developed sense of paranoia, "I think I have an issue from what happened the other night, can we move that appointment up early?" didn't really have many other responses.

Perhaps it was kind of like getting a message from a friend like "I love you" or "I really appreciate our friendship" at 2 o'clock in the morning. No matter how innocuous it was, it deserved some level of urgency, even in this day and age. Especially in this day and age, all things considered.

My incoherent thoughts scattered away when I landed in front of the shrine, having barely been allowed the time to process through the scant time of my journey. It had taken about three minutes to get from my apartment to here, and a significant portion of that time had been me pulling on a baggy hoodie and a loose pair of sweatpants to conceal any bodily changes anyone might have noticed if they had seen me in public. I had probably been more careful than it had warranted, my strength wasn't so uncontrolled that I would casually tear or break items by accident, but I only had so many items of clothing to spare. Reasonable explanations or not, I couldn't help but feel embarrassed I was greeted by Nishina-san dressed in full traditional wear , her flowing white kosode top and crisp red hakama pants only further emphasizing her aura of professionalism that she gave off.

The sense that I was truly in for it now only deepened when we walked up the long staircase, my attention torn from the crimson pipe-like handrails by what looked to be a komainu appearing out of thin air staring at me as we approached the twin vertical pillars connected by wooden beams that framed the entrance to the shrine — the torii. Before I could do or say anything, Nishina-san turned her face toward the guardian beast with a smile, the first I'd seen from her, and spoke.

"Be polite, A-gyō-sama. Haru-san has been invited."

Never breaking eye contact with me, the open-mouthed komainu gave a sharp nod before vanishing once again, but I could only feel a pit in my stomach seeing the obviously supernatural beast. The pit in my stomach only worsened when I saw a white foxtail in the corner of my eye — a myōbu, most likely. Quite a lot of Shinto knowledge had been at the forefront of my memories lately, and I was sharply reminded of the fact that this guardian shrine was not just a shrine to Susanoo-no-Mikoto, but also Uka-no-Mitama-no-Kami.

Better known as Inari.

Considering that the Western Youkai Faction was run by Yasaka, a kitsune, that had… interesting implications on whatever was going on here. I didn't really remember much about the "Five Principal Clans," but considering the relative disdain with which Nishina-san had spoken of them, I couldn't imagine that it was good for the nominal protectors of Japan. I contemplated asking the shrine maiden for the further explanation that she had promised me, for even if I did know the bare bones of DxD, including some knowledge I was pretty sure I should not speak aloud for years, that didn't mean anything for knowing anything that would be relevant to my neighborhood right now.

That thought was interrupted as Nishina-san abruptly pulled me to the side right as I was about to walk through the middle of the torii, the red-painted wooden gate that represented both the physical and spiritual boundary that separated the literal sacred ground of the shrine from the rest of the world.

"Have you ever properly entered a shrine before, Aizome-san?" she inquired politely. It was kind of a ridiculous question for someone who lived in Tokyo, but I was thankful she had asked, because I was severely out of practice.

"I… actually, not anytime recently, really?" I had attended a few festivals when I was a kid when the nuns had the time and inclination to take us around, which was already rare, but as I grew older and more and more children entered the home, I honestly had just taken the holidays as time to study or just take time off from work. When they did take us, they hadn't actually allowed us to participate in the spiritual rituals. "My apologies for my ignorance; I was raised in a Catholic children's home, and I haven't had an opportunity to visit by myself."

She turned to look at me, piercing eyes more than capable of reading through the lines. Humming contemplatively, her typically sharp gaze softened minutely.

"Do you consider yourself to be a particularly devout Christian, Aizome-san? Some parts of the rituals of entering the shrine could be considered idolatry, and I won't force you to do things that you would feel endanger your soul."

I chewed on my lip for a moment before I answered. Considering what I knew of God's fate in this world, it was a complicated question considering what the Church taught and perpetuated. That being said, the fact that God had died a second time, and this time hadn't come back yet due to sealing the Beast of Revelation was something I absolutely couldn't talk about. Nevertheless, it was a question that deserved an answer, especially as I was asking a Shinto miko for help.

"Well, if you asked me last week, I'd have told you that I just went on Sundays, and honestly more for the community than anything else," I replied with a wry chuckle, a sudden urge to scratch the back of my head appearing. "That being said, you just informed me that angels and devils existed yesterday, Nishina-san, so honestly, quite a bit more than a week ago. Still, I assumed you're asking me this for a reason — the same reason you pulled me aside, I suppose?"

"You would be correct, Aizome-san. To show respect to the kami, before entering the shrine you are supposed to bow. Furthermore, you are supposed to also keep to the side of the path, for the center is reserved for the kami to walk through. There are also a number of other rituals, such as purifying your hand and mouth at the pavilion and ringing the bell to alert the kami to your presence and banishing anything malicious that may have followed you."

Recently-ingrained instinct kept me from freezing, allowing to keep my tone casual as the realization that I had been about to disrespect the patrons of the shrine I had just asked for help sank in deeply.

"Ah, well, so long as you don't ask me to convert or pray or anything, that doesn't sound like anything I can't handle, Nishina-san. I've come to you, asking for your help; it would be rather rude if I didn't show respect in turn," I replied, voice steady. "That being said though, I would like to talk about with a Christian priest about some of this at some point — you wouldn't happen to have a number to call on hand, would you?

"I'm afraid not, Aizome-san, I'm not qualified enough to be able to facilitate contact with one of the Three Great Powers," she said, shaking her head. "I can see if I can ask the senior priestess or the chief priest of the shrine, after this, though."

Exhaling slightly, she clapped her hands, refocusing the conversation, before facing me again. Surprisingly enough, it seemed that she actually was looking forward to taking me to tour the shrine, her normally immaculate mask of professionalism allowing a hint of enthusiasm to break through.

"In any case, since you're alright with it, just follow my directions, alright?" she said with a slight smile. "It'll be quick since we'll need to head down to one of the kekkai within the shrine afterward, but I'll do my best."

"I'll endeavor to do the same," I replied with a nod of my head.

And so as we crossed the threshold of the shrine, appropriately at the side of the path this time, I felt a faint sensation emanate across my body, raising the hair at the back of my neck.

Somehow, instead of making me feel nervous, it felt like the shrine was welcoming me instead.

I pressed on.

True to Nishina-san's word, most of the rituals upon entering the shrine went by quickly. I couldn't help but think as I went through them that they likely also served as some kind of security too, for imposters or trespassers. Running water had a running theme of repelling evil or purification in many cultures, and calling for the attention of the kami residing at the shrine would more likely than not purge any hanger-ons. I was increasingly suspecting I had partaken in some sort of hidden test by participating in the ritual whether Nishina-san had intended for it to be one or not. Hopefully, not being able to give anything at the offering box wasn't too much of a demerit. I had been in too much of a rush this morning to grab my wallet before I left, and frankly even if I did retain the presence of mind to snag it, I probably would have been too afraid to break it. Now that I thought about it, I didn't even have my keys, since I had left my apartment through the windows than through the front door.

Nevertheless, we had reached into the depths of the shrine as promised, having ventured considerably deeper than I thought we would have. From my best guess, we were close to three hundred meters below the surface of the shrine, although the shrine had been built upon a considerable hill, so we were likely just a few floors below street level. Now, I sat in the middle of the room, sitting within what looked to be a ritual circle while Nishina-san bustled about the room gathering various strips of metal, wood, and paper. More ofuda, I supposed. While we were walking down, I had informed the apprentice shrine maiden of what had prompted me to call so early — chiefly, that my body and whatever well of energy that dwelled within me that fueled my Battle Aura had been altered massively, to the point I feared not just breaking my apartment, but a significant portion of the surrounding area. In response, Nishina-san simply had redirected us from entering the room she had originally directed me toward to traveling down here instead.

That had been about five minutes ago, and although the shrine maiden may have been perfectly alright working in silence, I unfortunately wasn't. It was the kind of jitters one had waiting for the doctor in a checkup, except instead of an adequately cushioned examination table in a climate-controlled doctor's office, I was sitting on a stone floor in an underground chamber, and instead of being worried about allergies or my bloodwork, I was being investigated on how I was suddenly able to blow up my apartment building overnight. In any case, I reserved the right to ask questions about procedures I was about to undergo.

"If you don't mind, may I ask about what you're setting up, Nishina-san?" I asked, voice slightly scratchy from dryness. Go figure, I hadn't done any of my morning routine, which meant I hadn't drunk any water at all before coming here. If the stress wasn't already going to give me a headache, dehydration certainly was. "That's quite a bit of ofuda you have there."

"I do not mind, Aizome-san," she replied, now bustling around the array, placing down the talismans at what I could recognize as the cardinal points. Curiously, she retained quite a few more in her hands, of which she handed me a few. "Please, hold these. I'll explain in a moment."

I accepted the talismans, looking through a few as I waited. Interestingly enough, most of them weren't the type of ofuda I recognized. Typically, the slips of paper one would obtain in exchange for a donation at the temple had the name of the shrine written on them, as well as some indication of the function they were intended for. The latter of which was on a few, but the point of origin for the ones I could read was frustratingly vague. Others seemed to be written in a form of kanji I couldn't understand or parse. Some kind of calligraphy reserved for religious scripture, perhaps? Or maybe a different language entirely. I took my attention off them after a moment, however, as Nishina-san began to speak.

"The first thing that the talismans and the circle are for, Aizome-san, is for protection, both for you and the surrounding area. You've described that you feared being able to break your own apartment building, as well as some kind of fundamental physical and spiritual change. That means that you could be a danger to both yourself and others." She paused for a moment, checking her work, before continuing onwards. "Not that you may intend to, of course, but you do not know what you are capable of at the moment. It's not an uncommon occurrence for some sort of incident to occur to those who just awakened new capabilities, and I thank you for coming to me immediately about it. Even those well-versed in the supernatural have had accidents — one of my friends is a Himejima, and she nearly burnt her room down when she awakened the power to control flame."

"A Himejima?" I tilted my head, shuffling some of the ofuda in my hands for lack of anything else to do. That was the name of one of the main characters of the series — Akeno, I thought. She had worn a shrine maiden outfit at some point, so maybe… "Is that one of the Five Principle Clans, Nishina-san?"

"Ah, yes they are. The Himejima are the clan who have inherited the partnership of Suzaku, the Vermilion Bird." The miko paused for a moment, contemplating something as she examined the ofuda, holding them out to me before putting them aside in a steadily growing pile. "Well, Aizome-san, the second function of this array is that of diagnostics. Unfortunately for the speed of this examination but perhaps fortunately for you, none of the quick diagnostics I had for the health of your soul, such as if it had been touched by Sacred, Holy, Demonic, or Yoki-based energy have shown any positive results. We'll need to do a full examination, so if you could, please apply those ofuda to your body as best you can."

With a mental shrug, I acquiesced, with even the metallic tags attaching themselves to my body with preternatural ease.

"If we'll be here for awhile Nishina-san, would you mind giving me the full lecture you mentioned yesterday?" At the very least, I'd like to understand the state of Japan. Knowledge of DxD gave me a very rough understanding that there were "Three Factions" that were the superpowers of the world, as well as various other tidbits that I was honestly afraid to think of at the moment, but in terms of specific knowledge I was coming up pretty short. It had been just about two decades since I had last thought about the series, and the author was hardly specific about his world, much less actually finishing it. Last I heard, he'd added another set of Longinus, which I was desperately trying to recall the names of.

"I suppose it would be more efficient this way, Aizome-san. That being said, I only have the most general of knowledge and have only learned much of this recently, so forgive me if I recount any inaccuracies." With the appropriate caveats given, she launched into her lecture, and it was quite the interesting one.

The Three Factions had to some degree always been in contact with Japan, but after the Great War had cooled down to a stalemate where neither side wanted to make a great push after the calamitous battles where the Twin Heavenly Dragons had been sealed and the Original Four Great Satans had lost their lives, they had engaged in some diplomatic outreach, spreading their attentions out into the world rather than with each other. Japan had been one of them, with the Church leading the way with Jesuit missionaries in the middle of the 16th century, and the other two factions following suit. However, the public presence of the faction was rather short-lived, with some incident or another causing Takamagahara to expel them. It was likely that it was either one of the Grigori or the Devils causing an incident with their "recruitment," but the court both divine and mortal was forced to banish all three in order to maintain their neutrality. Those pantheons who threw in with one of the Three Factions but not the others tended to not exist for very long, else they would tip over the uneasy balance, and the pantheons of the world tended to be rather self-policing about that.

The self-isolation continued on for over two centuries, but total refusal to engage with the Three Factions was untenable It had been more of a polite fiction more than anything else, for even with Heaven turning its eyes away likely due to being overstretched, the Church went to ground in Kyushu. Nagasaki and the Amakusa Islands largely kept faith, and although the largest Heavenly presence in Japan officially remained in Tokyo, the majority of the Church's exorcist recruitment came out of that location. The Grigori remained on the outlook, with incidents like Miyamoto Musashi and Sasaki Kojiro's — both of which were Sacred Gear wielders, apparently — legendary final clash drawing significant amounts of their resources to monitor. As for the Devils, after their civil war, their control on their population was rather loose anyhow. Eventually, just as how Commodore Perry blew open Japan's isolation in order to open their markets for Western trade, the Three Factions returned with new faces after centuries of practicing their diplomacy with the rest of the world.

In turn, this was where the Five Principal Clans arose as a distinctly "unified" entity, despite the Clans having existed for centuries beforehand. Before the reopening of Japan, they had been rivals, despite all five of them having been blessed by the Shinto gods with the partnership of the Cardinal Beasts, competing and disagreeing heavily in which way was the best way to "safeguard Japan." The Himejima were strictly Shinto-only, for example, denying even onmyoji as too foreign, while the Nakiri and the Shinra clan both used heavily syncretized techniques, with esoteric Daoist and Buddhist spells featuring often in their repertoire.

With the Devils and Fallen pushing overtly into the country alongside Western trade, the newborn Five Clans formed an uneasy peace with domestic youkai in reaction, the Five Sacred Beasts and the leyline-controlling kyuubi of Kyoto providing a solid bastion against the Three Factions penetrating too far into the heartland of Kansai. The only reason why there apparently wasn't a war to the knife to expel the Three Factions once more was that Heaven opened appropriate diplomatic channels with Takamagahara and Tokyo proper as a counterweight to the two other Factions, being rewarded with the Oura Cathedral in Nagasaki at first and later the allowance of St. Mary's Cathedral in Bunkyo-ku. Unspoken was that this was at least partially a concession after Sirzechs Lucifer publicly revealed his newly reincarnated Knight, Okita Souji.

The supernatural state of affairs naturally had evolved over the past century and a half, as Japan itself did, especially due to the various conflicts and upheavals of the 20th century following the rapid modernization and Westernization of Japan. Although the Grigori were content to remain more covert, Serafall Leviathan worked her magic and the Devils were allowed various enclaves throughout Japan, with some land even allowed to be purchased within Yasaka-held Kyoto itself. Thanks to the previous coalition, a tentative peace remained between the youkai and the Five Clans. However, in the previous decades, that détente had decidedly trended more to neutrality as the "common enemy" had removed itself from the situation, and that it was thoroughly reinforced that while Japan was capable of defending itself to some degree, it was absolutely not anywhere close to a peer of the Three Factions. Old grudges began to resurface, especially as portions of the Clans grew so radicalized against foreign influence they rejected "foreign magic" and Sacred Gear wielders they had previously accepted now that they knew it was influenced by the Three Factions. Some of this has begun to reverse in recent years, however, as a new generation has begun to take the reins.

Tokyo itself was quite the melting pot these days. Heaven, as befitting its earlier diplomatic relationship, based itself out of Sophia University in Chiyoda-ku and St. Mary's Cathedral in Bunkyo-ku. Serafall Leviathan had secured some allowances in light of Heaven's enclaves in the city, and Devil contractors were not an uncommon sight in the more business-focused parts of Tokyo like Shibuya-ku, Ginza in Chuo-ku, and parts of Chiyoda-ku, especially as the Bubble rose to its heights, and perhaps even moreso afterward, with desperate businessmen willing to sacrifice much to save their own skins, if not so much the people under them. From what I could tell though, although that had purportedly left a significant part of Japanese businesses under Hell's influence, that was more of them being sucked into the black hole that was the Japanese economy, absorbing quite a few of the losses with the bubble popping. In turn, the Grigori had individual members all across the city, but if one wanted to make some "purchases," one apparently only had to go asking around Roppongi in Minato-ku and unfortunately for my own peace of mind, Kabukicho in Shinjuku-ku.

The Three Factions, the Five Clans, and the youkai… as Nishina-san finished her lecture, I realized that left only one other "faction" I could think of.

"What about shrines, Nishina-san? Isn't there some sort of association of Shinto shrines?" I asked her contemplatively. "What part do you all play in this?"

"Well, there is an Association, with lines of communication in hotspots like Tokyo or Osaka, but otherwise shrines have maintained themselves as a more local affair, Aizome-san," she replied, having, at last, put the majority of the ofuda she had been utilizing to the side. "In truth, shrines could be thought more of as neighborhood watches, each of us with our own traditions and skillsets passed down by lineages of masters and apprentices and the kami and youkai in residence. That being said, not all shrines participate all that actively in the supernatural either — you're not going to see a shrine that focuses on good-luck rituals for academics deal too heavily with whatever goes bump in the night."

"But this shrine does, right?" I queried. "Are there any other shrines in Shinjuku-ku that do so as well?"

"We're a guardian shrine, so our traditions involve the protection of civilians, yes. Of Shinjuku-ku, the most significant ones would be the shrines surrounding and within Kabukicho. They're much larger than this shrine, but they get quite a bit of mundane traffic as well as having to dedicate a lot of manpower on that district alone, so the rest of the Ward is left to shrines like ours," she answered, tilting her head at whatever results she may have gotten. "We're a quiet shrine, so we don't get many donations, but that leaves us the ability to answer any other incidents that the larger guardian shrines cannot, and so the government subsidizes the shrine significantly."

"Huh, so you're a public servant," I said with a chuckle. "Does that mean you get a pension too?"

"I do in fact, and I'm also getting my college tuition and living expenses paid for as well," she said as she finally looked up. "I was fortunate enough to be recruited during high school part-time on the mundane side of things, and recently was inducted in full by the kami-sama."

In some ways, it felt incredibly bizarre, but in others, it felt incredibly mundane. Of course the Japanese government would have a pension for supernatural crime-fighters, why not?

"Wow, good for you, that's quite the arrangement. In any case, that was pretty informative; I appreciated learning about what's going on near me." It wasn't a great feeling knowing that Fallen Angels were making "sales" in a neighborhood not too far from where I lived, but I was far past the point where ignorance was bliss. Nevertheless, enough time had passed, and it was time to get to the meat of the matter. "That being said, by the looks of it, it seems you're done with whatever diagnostics you had of me. Give it to me straight, doc, am I going to die?"

"I'm studying accounting, for the record, not medicine. But no, there is… nothing wrong with you at all, Aizome-san," she said slowly, almost disbelievingly, as she finished examining the final ofuda in her pile. "The only thing that the reports give me is that you are an exceptionally strong and well-trained human with a very deep well of magical power. That is all."

I made to speak, but she rolled on before I could interrupt without missing a beat.

"It's somewhat inelegant of a system, but what I attempted was akin to an allergenic test. Whatever its limitations may be, Shinto techniques are very good at repelling nonhumans, so I went and pulled out every single ofuda I could and tested to see if they would respond, and nothing has, not a single one. No nonhuman blood, no curses, and no blessings either — nothing in this world can alter body and spirit like this without leaving a mark, and yet your self looks like it has been simply naturally cultivated over years. Which I know was not the case, as I met you yesterday before your… transformation, such as it is."

Nothing in this world, huh? Considering the memories that were now ingrained in my skull, that was perhaps a beyond utterly appropriate set of words. But it wasn't like I could just… say that, and knowledge of other worlds wasn't exactly a safe thing to know, either. Issei's summoning of a literal Boob Goddess had led to an alien invasion because it led one of the bad guys to become obsessed with the idea of invading another world. I doubted that they were monitoring an out-of-the-way shrine in the middle of Tokyo, but the information wasn't likely going to be helpful to the matter at hand anyhow. I mentally sighed.

"In practical terms though, what does that mean? Is there anything that I need to look out for or be prepared for? I hate to impose further upon you and the shrine, but I'd rather not risk depriving myself and possibly my neighbors of a home if I twitch wrong in my sleep."

Nishina-san frowned for a moment before brightening up to some degree.

"Most of the tools we have at this shrine are to suppress, exorcise, or seal youkai and similar entities, as that's been the bulk of our workload, but that wasn't always the case. I don't think we have any still remaining, but I think I could draw up some more generalized physical and magical suppression seals that should keep you from endangering your surroundings. Some adjustment to them will be necessary, but those and some ofuda to conceal you from evil spirits wouldn't go amiss, I believe."

After gesturing for me to get up and give her back the seals she had asked me to self-apply earlier, she began pulling out further supplies from various containers in the room as well as what looked to be a reference book and began to calligraph with a brush.

"As for anything else… you already know to be wary of anything overtly supernatural, but in this world, power attracts power, but from what the array has told me, short of the kami-sama intervening, you'd be entirely capable of destroying the shrine with a few strikes. These talismans will help, especially as you've willingly accepted and will self-apply them, but they're ultimately stopgaps, and this situation is entirely novel to what I've been trained in. I will try to get you the contact information of an… informed Catholic priest, at the very least. They would almost certainly have more expertise with people awakening supernatural power by accident than we would."

Waving her hand over the slips of wood and paper, the freshly-applied ink dried instantaneously. Bundling them up, she dropped them into a bag alongside a few other items and handed them to me before offering me a slight smile.

"At the very least, you don't have to worry about job prospects. At the moment, everyone in Tokyo is searching for strong fighters. The senior priests and priestesses are almost certainly going to ask if you're willing to work with us, after some vetting. Unless you're willing to convert and join the shrine, we can't exactly offer you training, but we can still offer payment for services rendered."

And that was that. After some quick education on how to apply and adjust the talismans, I left the shrine, weighed down by the draining effects of the ofuda, another part-time job offer, and a promise to get a priest's number.

This appointment had taken most of the morning, but although I had missed most of my classes, I could still make afternoon lecture, and I could figure out what I wanted to do with the rest of my day. Adjusting the ofuda, I went and quickly ran back home to make myself presentable for classes before taking a train ride down to the university.

The university that I now knew also trained exorcists, but you know. Life went on.

Mentally composing apology emails to my professors for missing class, I walked up to the security checkpoint in order to use my student ID to open the gate. Unfortunately, the doors remained stubbornly closed. I waved my card a few more times, tapping it on the sensor, before looking around to see if anyone could help. Unfortunately, it was now noon, so the normally packed entrance was pretty empty. Damn, I'd have to call campus security or something.

Patting myself down for my cell phone for a minute, I recalled that I had stuffed it into my bag, something I had made a habit of whenever I rode the train instead of biking. Flipping it open, I noticed that my email app had quite a few notifications. Hm, maybe there was an outage or security issue or something? I opened the app and began to read. And read. And read.

Attendance at the university under review? Suspension of my scholarship? Caused by a letter from the Dicastery for the Doctrine of the Faith?

What the actual fuck?

So this update is a lot later than I'd have preferred, one of my relatives got immobilized recently and I was the closest person to get them to help, so that took up a lot of writing time. Limbus Company's Refraction Railway 6 took up most of the rest. But it's been about a week since the last update, and I suppose I'm not even the first person I know that would post updates at 4 AM, so there's that.

Rolls for this chapter:

Thaia yn Ebunma, the Leviathan
400 CP
A behemoth-manse who looks much like a gigantic proto-whale, Thaia yn Ebunma was created long ago in the Time of Glories as the prototypical ancestor of all those lesser cetaceans. The size of a small city, she is a being capable of languidly swimming through the seas of Kimbery and Creation alike. She is unbound by any particular location, for the demesne she was formed around is her beating heart and will follow her wherever she goes. Course hide and uncountable barnacle cover her form, while essence suffuses her tough inner flesh. Even should her flesh be disturbed, she will regenerate from nearly anything and stabilize her geomancy naturally. She may speak in low and slow tones reminiscent of the song of whales, yet her ancient intelligent has also learned to speak in the many tongues of demons and mortals, betraying a sentient mind of vast age and wisdom beyond even many of the greatest gods and demons. If anyone dares travel past her nacreous teeth and tongues of coral, she can provide air, ample living space, and nourishing fruit from her own veined walls to let people life in disturbing comfort. Mutagenic essence suffuses everything here, slowly transforming unattuned beings into aquatic beings aligned with Kimbery over a period of many months. Should you wish for her to come to you, only clasping her hearthstone and calling her name in waters connected to an ocean is enough for her to surface moments later. This shall only be guaranteed to work once a decade, but if it is done again sooner than that, then she will simply do her best to swim towards your call with haste if at all possible. Source: Infernals Exalted, Chapter: Domain
12000 Words, 100 CP, miss

Motivated to Greatness
50 CP
Choose a Motivation. It must be suitably grand. "I want to abolish the slave trade and have the Guild openly acknowledge they will not deal in slaves" counts. "I want to to throw down the corrupt and decadent Monarchy and establish a fair and equitable government" also counts. "I want to make a really great tasting sandwich" does not, nor does "I want to live a boring humdrum life". So long as you are striving towards your Motivation you will find that your reserves of essence stretch just that little bit further, that your willpower is just that little bit more resolute, and that your skills and abilities are just that little bit sharper and just that little bit more refined than they otherwise would be. Taken individually these changes don't amount to much, nor do they usually result in anything too amazing moment to moment, but in the long grind their benefits might just allow you to realize an otherwise impossible dream.
Source: Generic Exalted, Chapter: Refinement
14000 Words, 200 CP => 150 CP, hit

Immortality
600 CP
Like those members of the demon race, you somehow managed to gain their form of immortality to yourself. This gives you agelessness allowing you to live for eternity without showing any signs of growing old past your prime. If you're way past it then you would be returned to your prime. This also grants extremely powerful regeneration, so long as a portion of your body remains it would allow you to almost instantly regenerate in complete health and the lost parts, small cuts or fatal wounds would be healed instantly fast enough that you won't even notice that you've been wounded. By default your children and their descendants also gain this version of Immortality and you also gain an ability to give other people this Immortality. Post- Jump should you die, whether by having your body completely vaporized or your soul being destroyed or any other way, you would be revived instantly to the nearest safest location or in your warehouse, though your age would reset to the minimum of seven years old, this only happens once per jump and every ten years post-chain.
Source: Mushoku Tensei, Chapter: Refinement
16000 Words, 150 => 250 CP, Miss

Started publicly tracking points so it's a little easier to follow in the future. Motivated to Greatness is kind of whatever to put to the fore narratively and I struggled for a bit to figure out where to put it in this chapter, so I just went and said fuck it -- it's basically auto-assigned to "make sure the world doesn't get blown up by Evie Etoulde and Trihexa" anyway.

This is pretty much a yap chapter mixed with some worldbuilding where I try to reconcile why the Five Clans are relatively inconsistent internally with their mixed acceptance of Buddhism and also why the fuck they expelled all of their Sacred Gear wieldrs. Shout out to my friend who knows way more about Japanese history than I do -- sorry I couldn't explicitly namedrop the Boshin War, but my brain was already half-fried writing this chapter.

Reading through the actual DxD volumes may have actually damaged my brain, haha...

In any case, thanks for reading, and thanks in advance for any feedback or corrections! Time for me to pass out and sleep.

BlueHelix · Thursday at 4:03 AM

CHAPTER FOUR: MENTAL HEALTH AWARENESS MONTH

One Month Later

Ordinarily, I'd be pretty appreciative of the opportunity of being where I was. The Metropolitan Area Outer Underground Discharge Channel, also known as the "G-Cans" after the initiative that popularized the area surrounding it for regional development, was frankly a hidden wonder of the world. The largest underground floodwater diversion facility in the world, it had begun construction more than a decade ago and had recently been completed a year or two ago, thanks to the ever-increasing risk of flooding that Tokyo suffered thanks to the Tone River.

Mitigating the risks of monsoon season had been the work of literal centuries, beginning during the Tokugawa Shogunate back in the late 16th century, but the situation had become untenable after Typhoon Mireilles in 1991, the worst storm that had struck Japan in my lifetime, which had flooded over a hundred square kilometers in the northern suburbs of Tokyo. Faced with no other option, as Tokyo had minimal space aboveground to handle the floodwaters, engineers set about building the "world's biggest drain." Five concrete silos sixty-five meters tall, seventy-eight thirteen thousand horsepower pumps that could pump two hundred metric tons into the Edo River per second, and 6.4 kilometers of tunnels fifty meters beneath the city that interconnected it all. While the "Underground Temple" was open to the public whenever it wasn't the typhoon season of June to November, I had been granted the privilege of entering the many, many restricted-access areas.

Unfortunately, that was because it wasn't much of a privilege, as I wasn't here as a tourist. No, I was here in my capacity as Tokyo's newest (supernatural) pest control technician. With all the ambient negativity in the city and the widespread increase of people with minimal to no safety net, all sorts of things had started to go bump in the night. Various malicious youkai that wanted to get out of the southwest or just the countryside in general, whatever the Three Factions had brought along with them to Tokyo like Stray Devils or escaped experiments from the Grigori, and finally the restless dead. I had encountered literal funayūrei down here over the weeks I had ventured down here, which was baffling. Weren't they supposed to be out at sea, or at least at lakes and rivers? There were no boats here for them to sink, but they did their level best to drown me anyways.

Aside from the waterborne ghosts content to ruin my life, all of these creatures had to find places to reside, both in terms of finding sustenance and also to not immediately get destroyed by the various patrols of the more proactive supernatural community. There were minimal places for them to exist on the surface that were near accessible hunting grounds, as abandoned properties rarely remained abandoned or property for long, but all that meant was that they just had to get underground. Immaterial beings could slip through the walls, shapeshifting creatures could squeeze through the cracks, and those who couldn't do either made do with access tunnels or storm drains. With a nice damp dark residence away from the sun and the ability to pop out at night to snag a civilian when you're hungry, many an entity had made themselves quite comfortable down here so long as they could handle the inevitable flooding. Some could be negotiated with, which shrine members often took care of. The rest…

The rest, they left for me.

Depressingly, this probably wasn't the worst job I'd done to pay rent.

Fighting in a place like Tokyo was an exercise in restraint. Heavily urbanized, with massive amounts of potential collateral damage if I didn't control my strength, I had to constantly check some of my own instincts. I couldn't fling projectiles coated with my Battle Aura casually or else they would go through multiple walls, slamming opponents against surfaces could cause genuine infrastructural damage, and if I really went all out and struck something I could erase city blocks.

This went double for when I was underground, surrounded by valuable infrastructure. I doubted I could cause a genuine geologic event even with how earthquake-prone Japan was unless I lost my mind, but disrupting infrastructure or causing sinkholes was a genuine concern. Everything around me could be important in some way, and it was entirely possible with all the unsanctioned alterations that had been done by the entities inhabiting the tunnels, any further damage could become catastrophic.

Thankfully, while North God Style could scrap with the best of them, a significant number of branches had specialized into how I was fighting right now: with economy of motion, as little noise as possible, and a minimum of strikes. An assassin, in other words. I was even dressed the part to some degree, although unintentionally so, as I was wearing a poncho, the clothing loose enough to not tear if I needed to move at any real speed and sufficiently waterproof to keep any dripping fluids off me.

Despite the smells, the dank feeling that wouldn't disappear until I cleaned myself at home, and the unfriendly faces, it wasn't all bad down here. In fact, I had many teachers, even if they couldn't precisely talk. The rats had taught me a survivor's footwork with strong unpredictability and a surprisingly respectable short-range strike. The snakes and cats that hunted them down here taught me how to coil my body properly for strikes and a quiet grace to not be noticed until it was too late. Most interesting of all were the innumerable number of insects, and from them I had learned precision and not just how to move quickly, but react swiftly too. The insights on evasion and survival I had learned from the common fly were frankly terrifying.

And as a good student, I made sure to practice regularly. After all, there were so many friendly combatants down here that I could exchange pointers with. For example, the host of spirits that were helpfully offering themselves for my education in front of me.

In a more typical battlefield, I would be concerned about whether more ghosts and other such creatures would spawn behind me, and to be frank, it wasn't entirely impossible. But in order for that to happen, it would have to be able to coalesce and travel through the dozens to hundreds of ofuda that I applied to the walls of the tunnels as I traversed deeper and deeper into the network, at a distance of about of one every five meters, one on each side, the ceiling, and the floor.

Ordinarily, such applications would not be necessary, especially as it would be entirely likely that quite a few would be washed away in the rainy season, but the times were what they were in Tokyo, and ensuring that fewer ghosts and gribblies crept up through our feet for a few months before the monsoons came was critical, especially as I had begun mapping out further unsanctioned additions to the network. Nevertheless, the ofuda were made to last, so while a significant amount would be torn away by the rushing waters of the upcoming storms, many more would remain, and so only fixes would have to be applied. Perhaps even more importantly, it wouldn't require me to be the one to apply them either, the only free High-Class combatant available to the shrines at the moment.

Such a network would naturally have a profound aura of sacred energy, which in a typical case would repel the malicious youkai to come return when circumstances were better. However, I had a counter-strategy of releasing a minute amount of my tightly-controlled Battle Aura as bait, the magical power wafting off incredibly tempting to the beasts hiding within the shadows. While even that much would act as a repellent to an individual creature, the steady purification of the tunnels had herded them together into groups, and in groups, even cowards could find courage. And so here they were, coalescing and grouped in front of me, ready to be sent off to their true afterlife, whatever it was.

"M-m-my h-h-homework!!"

"I c-c-c-an't be late for w-w-w-ork…"

"Where a-a-am I? W-w-where is my family?!"

And as the howling host advanced upon me, I cleared my mind and advanced upon them in turn.

With a brutal crunch, I reached out to the first pair that set itself upon me and crushed ectoplasmic skulls with clawed fingers. Throwing their fading remains in front of me to gain further space, I flattened my hands and decapitated twice-dead corpses with bladelike neck chops. Grabbing more ghostly heads as grips, I yanked myself forward, my reinforced elbows blowing a hole through those attempting to sneak up behind me and my knee blowing a path through the group, although it immediately refilled. When groups of spirits piled on me time and time again, herded by the other, more powerful yōkai , an efficient, wound-up strike could blow them all away, their bodies likely acting as a cushion enough to not ensure any collateral damage, but I found that I did not desire nor need to risk such a thing on a day to day basis. And so I remained in the muck, reinforcing my points of contact as I waded through the morass.

The only real potential issue was for the more immaterial creatures attempting to escape through the walls, but all that really required was a good eye and a swift limb. Creatures of obsession they tended to be, they never truly ran far away. Once again, they craved more than anything else a good meal, and that for them was a strong, healthy soul. Accordingly, my soul had now brightened enough for even a thousand feasts for them, and so they would inevitably return like a two-bit horror movie villain. I had lost count of how many had tried to float out of the shadow beneath my feet that I would simply just kick the head off.

Now fully baited with a taste of my Battle Aura, traces of the energy wafting through the crowd, the spirits advanced without reserve. The swarm screeched, wailed, and chittered as they crawled towards me, crawling over each other just to get to me a little bit quicker, funneling themselves into my waiting fists. This time, I waited for them properly, keeping my feet firmly on the ground as my hands began flickering through the air, firing off tight, controlled bursts, ensuring that I delivered the maximum amount of force with minimal wasted follow-through. Striking, not pushing, was the mantra I kept in my head as I bobbed and weaved through the morass. Creatures like these couldn't even meaningfully scratch me, weak as they were, and dodging wasn't truly necessary. In the end, however, every fight I was in was a place to learn, and it wouldn't do to pick up bad habits when I didn't have to. I was probably picking up a few fighting creatures this weak, but it was what it was.

The "fight" itself most likely didn't last more than a minute, or even half of one, but it still felt like an eternity had passed before the last pile of ectoplasm had finally been laid to rest. Trails of smoke faintly wafted off the floor, walls, and my clothes and fists, the remains of the hungry ghosts fading away into wherever their souls hopefully should have gone in the first place. Given the circumstances a lot of them undoubtedly had died in, it was unlikely any large number of them would be worshipped as a kami-sama by any of their family members, but hopefully they would reincarnate into a better life.

Hopefully they would have better luck than I had.

That fight turned out to be the most eventful part of the patrol for me. All I had to do afterward was keep on applying the ofuda I had been supplied, and with that section completed, we only really truly had the bowels of the stormwater and drainage system left before it was cleaned out. Naturally, that also left the rest of the sixteen kilometer-long wastewater system that the G-Cans system was thankfully not connected to to try and clean up, but that would be a whole different beast. As dirty as stormwater could be, it was pretty reasonable to walk through these tunnels. In contrast, it would be much less pleasant to wade through places where sewage traversed. As well-engineered as the Tokyo sewage system undoubtedly was, it certainly wasn't designed to be traversed on foot by the general public.

Hazards like toxic gases could still accumulate, and random flooding could still occur in truly unpredictable fashions, in comparison to the "if it wasn't raining, you'll probably be fine" of the stormwater drainage. While I was tough enough to manage any physical damage, I certainly wasn't capable of holding my breath long enough for patrols to remove the risk of poisonous inhalations, undoubtedly enhanced by any of the unwelcome guests down there as well, and my colleagues probably weren't any better equipped. We'd have to get purification talismans for both the body and the environment bare minimum, as well as updated maps. The G-Cans system had been completed fairly recently so the tunnels were well-mapped, but the beginnings of the wastewater piping traced back to the Kanda system back in Meiji-era Japan, well over a century ago. Plenty of unauthorized additions would have been made, so navigation talismans or just plain old navigation or mapping software would probably be needed as well.

Well, it wasn't something that I would have to decide in the first place. As much respect as I had obtained working with Nishina-san and the other shrines in the past month, power did not necessarily correspond with strategic and logistical capability, so it was rather thoroughly over my head. It wasn't impossible for me to get on that level, but that kind of input required trust and showing of capability that probably would take more than a month to acquire, and frankly, I wasn't sure if I wanted to so thoroughly attach myself to any particular organization at the moment. Not after getting so unceremoniously removed from one that had raised me for my entire second life.

I sighed, thoughts flickering through my head as I walked out of one of the side entrances to the facility, the noontime sun warming my face. It was a rather pretty day, and despite this being a municipal water infrastructure plant, there was a surprisingly large amount of people moving about here, undoubtedly part of the community initiative that had popularized the "G-CANS" nickname in the first place. Walking through them to a side alley I could quickly scale, despite the hustle, bustle, and liveliness of the people, I couldn't help but only feel like the stakes for doing everything perfectly were never higher.

One usually thought that fighting monsters would have to be by moonlight, hidden from the eyes of the public, but being in the depths of Tokyo's subterranean maze was disguise enough. The light of the sun banished much of the man-eating population back down to where we wanted them, and they were supposedly weaker as well due to their nocturnal preferences. Things were probably going to get trickier now that we had coated so many of the tunnels, as it was entirely possible that by having the network incompletely sealed, we had left enough of an opening that we were driving the spirits up and out into other areas while agitated. However, that was a risk that the senior priests and priestesses had apparently accounted for, with additional manpower assigned to the evening patrols in the last few days. Apparently some personnel had been pulled from shrines outside of Tokyo, some of which may have even been from the Ise Grand Shrine. If that was the case, I hadn't heard anything official, but scuttlebutt had a way of outpacing even the speed of light.

Pulling out yet another talisman, this time I applied it on myself. It was one of Nishina-san's shrine's more specialized ofuda, one dedicated to stealth and misdirection. It wouldn't do for me to be seen leaping from rooftop to rooftop, and given the distance from the G-Cans facility in Saitama to my apartment in Shinjuku was about thirty kilometers, although going by foot would be quicker than public transport, going unconcealed was too much of a risk. Concealment applied, I began my journey home with a quick flicker up to the rooftops.

Unfortunately, that left me to my thoughts on why I was doing effectively mercenary work for Shinto priests — my censure from the Catholic Church.

No longer being in good standing with the Church meant my academic career at Sophia was effectively over, and with that my scholarship, and with that my housing stipend. If I didn't have the ability to punch ghosts, I would've been in real steep trouble, for there was only so many hours Sakamoto-san could offer me. All of this was compounded by the fact that I was being censured by the Church in a way I didn't even know existed.

The joke about being Catholic was that you could become an apostate, be an obstinate and unrepentant heretic, or even convert and join a terrorist organization of another religion, and all you would be was a very bad Catholic. It was taught that once you were baptized, you were indelibly marked on your soul as a Catholic forever, and considering how this world was, I couldn't discount this at all. And so, excommunication wasn't supposed to remove you from the Church either.

Excommunication, from what I had researched and learned in both of my lives was a supposed to be "medicinal," rather than an "expiatory" or "vindictive" penalty. What that meant was that the censure was not some method to banish someone from God's light, such as it was, forever, or solely to punish them. Instead, it was meant to be some kind of corrective measure, always with some kind of way back to communion with the Church outlined, whether it be a literal handwritten letter of your submission to the Church with a years-long probation or simply just a small talk with your local pastor.

For some reason, that wasn't an option for me, and I had a sinking feeling why.

It was pretty much without a doubt that I had incurred excommunication latae sententiae, in that I well and truly believed that God was dead. That could be nothing else but outright heresy, albeit stopping short of apostasy as I still believed in God, for whatever it was worth. But genuinely believing such a thing meant that by the law, I was automatically excommunicated. It was what it was. Considering that Xenovia had gotten kicked out of the Church for such knowledge in canon, the consequences were obvious. What wasn't obvious was how I was automatically detected, and what how genuine and obstinate belief was determined, considering I hadn't even talked to anyone about it. She had mentioned it to her superiors in my admittedly scattered memory, but there was no noting that simply hearing about it was sufficient to cause banishment. But considering I had half-read the novels about two decades ago, who knew what I remembered and did not at this point? Certainly not I.

Circular speculation this may have been, but if I wanted to ever step foot in a holy place without potentially causing issues again, I had to determine what exactly the process they had undergone to banish me within a day of learning about God's death, because there was no actual path of reconciliation given. Xenovia and Asia weren't offered a path back in, because no matter how sorry Heaven felt, they were still Devils, and there was just not a realistic path for that to occur. But as a human, there should have at least been some route to return, or at least some explanation. But I had just… received radio silence beyond the initial message that I was excommunicated, and even more worrisomely, no longer welcome in cathedrals or the like. I was fairly sure I still had Sunday obligation, but at this point, I wasn't sure if I was even allowed to step in a church at all.

The uncalled number made my cell phone weigh even heavier in my pockets as I began nearing my apartment. But at this point, what could I do? With how opaque the Church was, I couldn't be certain that me communicating with them wouldn't result in consequences for them either, and that was where I drew the line. I couldn't risk anything happening to them and my juniors in the orphanage. If I thought that my scholarship for Sophia being cut off was disastrous, losing Church funding would be an utter catastrophe. Despite having memories and knowledge from another world about the one I lived in right now, all I knew was little and less.

I sighed, as I reached my apartment, pushing up the window before closing it behind me as I crawled inside. There was nothing I could do about it right this moment, so I simply just had to focus on now, with my future so uncertain. And that now involved a shower before changing into work clothes for Sakamoto-san's restaurant.

It wouldn't do to have the taste of slaughter on food meant for customers, after all.

Work had thankfully been uneventful, despite the steady influx of newer customers. It had seemed that Nishina-san had been spreading the word of Sakamoto-san's food to others, and if not her, someone had been. It didn't quite take superhuman levels of effort to handle the dinner rush, but I had felt it was pretty darn close. It seemed petty to use Battle Aura to give myself ankle and arch support, but I dared anyone to find someone who worked on their feet to that mundane use of power. Most importantly to me, though, and one of the main reasons why I still worked here, was that family meal portions for me had remained at the mind-boggling size that Sakamoto-san had provided me about a month ago. Well, it was likely being paid for by the increased business, but every time he gave me a platter, I remained surprised, and every time I ate, I remained incredibly grateful. It was probably the single reason I hadn't bitten the bullet to find a new apartment with an actual kitchen and storage space, despite all the troubles I had with keeping my current one. Although scrambling to find another guarantor after the scholarship had dropped me was already nightmarish, having to do further real estate hunting while trying to keep Tokyo safe from its own resentment would have been absolutely mindbending. At least managing to pull together for a security deposit and "key money" was no longer an issue, but everything else…

I didn't really have time for that.

Which was a bit of an ironic statement, considering what I was doing right now. As I glanced around at the glittering Tokyo nightscape, I couldn't help but think that I might have made quite the sight, a figure in a baggy hoodie bouncing around the rooftops, holding leftovers with both hands to make sure they didn't spill out, despite being wrapped in a plastic bag. Shinjuku itself was quite the sight too — despite most people probably heading to bed at the moment, the ward itself was well and alive. The Metropolitan Government Building had some flashy advertisement or another projected on its twin towers, Kabukicho was lit up to the gills with neon lights, and the streams of cars still traversing the streets formed a river of light through the streets.

A few weeks ago, I would have also been down there, riding a bike, trying to get home. But that was then, and now was now, and so despite my enhanced speed, I wasn't anywhere close to my home relative to where I had started. The reason for that was because I was doing the age-old, timeworn tradition of patrolling my neighborhood as definitely-not-a-vigilante. My "neighborhood" being a significant portion of Shinjuku-ku probably stretched the definition of the term, but it was what it was. If Spider-Man could be a friendly neighborhood vigilante despite patrolling the entirety of New York and then some, I figured I was in the clear.

One might ask why I was doing this, as I had already spent a significant portion of my day fighting hundreds of feet underground. I didn't really have a straight answer for it. Perhaps part of it was simply that this was my neighborhood, and given my capabilities, it was just like checking the locks of my home before going to bed. Another part of it could have been guilt — I may have been fighting beneath the surface, but it was entirely possible that until we finished clearing them out, the streets would be less safe as the evil spirits had nowhere left to go. And maybe, just maybe, the memory of the night when I learned the world was far more vast than I could imagine lingered in the back of my mind.

Whatever the reason was, I tended to make a few big loops and criss-crosses across the city's skyline with my Battle Aura carefully controlled in order to keep my presence from alerting any of those who I was looking for or possibly those who were looking for me. With my scarily overtuned eyes, ears, and nose, a good throwing arm, and whatever various tiny projectiles I could obtain, I could forcibly exorcise almost any ghost effortlessly while still being able to keep a modicum of privacy. I realized that the entire concept of "privacy" would probably be compromised and a laughingstock in about ten to fifteen years, but once again, that was then and now was now. I wasn't quite willing to give away all my personal information then or now, which was also why I was wearing a medical mask to further conceal my face on top of the concealing clothing I put on. Temperature wasn't such a huge concern for me after I figured out the trick that some North God practitioners had figured out in the more extreme climates of their world.

To my surprise, I hadn't observed any malicious spirits floating around today. Although there had been a concerted effort to keep the streets safe, it hadn't been so effective to be able to totally eliminate spirits in a place as well-patrolled as Chiyoda-ku, much less the ward that had Kabukicho within it. No news was good news, but I knew things were never this good in Tokyo, so I hopped up to a higher vantage point and scanned the surrounding area. Everything seemed normal, so I concentrated my Battle Aura to enhance my senses. First, my vision, but my eyes observed nothing, and so I closed my eyes. Second, my audition, but my ears heard nothing, and so I closed off my ears. Finally, my olfaction, and there I sensed — smelled — something, buried under a thousand other traces of existence.

The scent of blood.

Combat concealment barriers tended to focus on preventing humans from being able to come across them, and thus they focused on the two main methods of humans being able to discover something that they shouldn't have — seeing something, and hearing something. Smell was a much less relevant sense to obscure, especially in a city like Tokyo. As clean as the city kept itself with an army of municipal workers, a tiny trace of smell would be so overwhelmed by the existence of over twelve million humans to be indiscernible from the rest of humanity. From the aroma of food to the stink of car exhaust, the air in Tokyo was so saturated with other scents that most concealment meant to be efficiently and quickly applied tended to just take care of sight and hearing.

Unfortunately, so much blood had been spilt in the alleyway I now observed that the smell of iron in the air was so thick that despite the general privacy barrier that had been put up, now that I had been actively looking for it, I couldn't miss it. "It" being the source of the scent, crimson vitae drying to a muddy brown splashed all across the alleyway, torn-off limbs painting the walls. "It" being the source of the lifeblood: a number of warriors, exorcists, wearing the frocks of priests and the habits of nuns strewn across the allewyway, only one still conscious enough to continue silently firing their light pistol. "It" being the source of this scene entire — a hulking, humanoid figure, that despite the constant flashes of light illuminating it, seemed to appear to be living shadow. Its silhouette was flickering, constantly shifting in the evening gloom, but the shadow of what it held in its hand was unmistakable — a blade.

I squinted my eyes, focusing my Battle Aura into it once more, to try to make it out and determine what, exactly, had taken apart a squad of exorcists like so much garbage, and after a moment that felt like an eternity, my mind responded.

One part of my brain, the one that had been fighting beneath the streets of Tokyo for a month, whispered yōkai, yūrei, onryō. A being so wronged in life it had returned to life out of sheer rage, cravenge vengeance to redress the wounds it had suffered

Another part of of my brain, however, churned out a different answer. It was a primal part of my brain, forged from a millennia of natural selection in a world where humanity had not ever been the apex predator nor master of the world, for there had been three others. The ape-like construct within my brain, my soul, spat out something I had never seen but had always known I would encounter. Not a monster nor a ghost, but something far worse, for within the core of twisted madness lay a spark of intelligence — a demon, a fiend, a devil.

Both were not quite wrong. Both were not fully correct.

In the end, it didn't matter. If it got out of here, it would be a disaster and so in the instant it launched itself at its last remaining, I gathered around me as much Battle Aura as possible that leaping wouldn't damage the building and launched a horse's kick at its faceless head.

Things wouldn't end that conveniently, of course. As soon as my boot made contact, I realized how the creature was still alive. The secondary flurry of kicks that it somehow absorbed without immediately dying confirmed it. As I pushed myself off, the barely conscious exorcist just behind me, I contemplated how much more annoying this fight would be if I didn't figure something out.

From my memory, a single wound made by Light would be enough to cripple a weaker devil, and considering that most of the exorcists here were still breathing, although probably not for long, it was most definitely a weaker devil. A single shot or cut would damage the devil's existence, sap its powers, and bring it to its knees — it was one of the main ways that the Church could contend with the creatures of the night with mere men and women, instead of heroes. And yet, despite undoubtedly being shot at dozens of times, it was still alive.

The answer was simple: it just hadn't been hit. Somehow, someway, it had been able to gather and compress enough spirits around itself that they served as ablative armor. Although still weak to the Light, they weren't as inherently vulnerable to it as God had forced Lucifer's children to be — they could take a few cuts from a Light Sword or shots from a Light Gun. Or with enough in the way, forged into armor, a couple of steel-shattering strikes.

I breathed out an irritated sigh. What a pain in the ass.

The ghost-armored Stray Devil, for what else could it be, closed the distance, sword held high. I met its charge in kind, ducking underneath its strike and launched a flurry of praying mantis jabs into its gut, launching it back a few meters. Unfortunately, it didn't have the grace to die then and there. Fortunately, however, my choice to lean on precision over strength paid off — it hadn't died so quickly that I accidentally blew up the street from the force of my blows.

That was the annoying thing about this devil's gimmick. I had a pretty good handle on my strength and could pull back a strike pretty quickly, but if I struck it and its last piece of armor broke, the force of my strike could transfer through its body. The street would probably remain intact, but with as many wounded humans as there were in the alleyway, I didn't want to risk anything happening. But the exorcists bleeding out put a timer on the fight — while I could typically carefully pick apart my opponent's armor piece by piece, the limited time remaining on the exorcist's lives meant that I would eventually be forced to risk trying for a few decisive strikes if I wanted to keep them from dying. It wasn't a meaningful threat to me, but that didn't mean that it wasn't capable of making me still lose.

There was something to that thought, but I shelved it as my mind flickered through the options before me before something laying on the ground behind the recovering creature caught my eye.

Hm. If I was going to be forced to gamble, better try the option that didn't risk blowing up the street first.

Shooting forward before the devil could advance again, I snapped a kick where its legs met, launching it up into the air properly. Kicking off the ground, I juggled it forward in the air, pushing it beyond my objective: a hilt without a blade. With a downward angled strike, I sent it skidding a little further away from me, and more importantly, away from the wounded. Picking up the Light Sword, I looked for how to activate it. Turning the hilt over in my hand, looking for some kind of button to press, I heard a hoarse whisper behind me.

"T-twist the p-pommel."

Turning around, I saw it was the exorcist that had been firing at the Stray Devil earlier, although they had stopped as soon as I had engaged. Part of it was almost certainly trying not to inflict friendly fire, but despite their iron grip they had on their firearm, the limpness of their arm told me that I had a limited amount of time left. With a curt nod, I followed their instructions, and a blade of Light grew out of the hilt.

Waving it experimentally, I suppressed the faint feeling of disappointment that it didn't hum like a lightsaber before feeding my Battle Aura into the blade to reinforce it—

On the first day of Creation, God said:

"Let there be Light."

And so it was, separating the Day from the Night.

Seeing it illuminate Creation, He saw that it was good. And so He was pleased.

Many other days passed, as God created other places, plants, creatures, and people.

The Light illuminated all, providing warmth, comfort, healing.

Until the Original Sin was committed, and wroth, God wrought the Light in such a fashion that it could bless and smite in the same breath, to punish those that had deceived His most beloved creations.

As His mind settled, He saw what He had fashioned from what He had made, and found it necessary.

And yet, He found that he was not pleased.

—altering the sword and being altered in turn. The blade grew brighter and brighter and brighter, feeding off the magical power generated within the depths of my soul — not quite Light, but had been changed in a fashion to be something somewhat similar to it. And so despite it looking like it would explode and despite not being able to investigate what had truly happened, I knew instinctively that so long as I empowered the Light Sword, it would, could never hurt me.

I looked up and away from the mystery within my hand, and saw the Devil standing up, waiting for me. As I began approaching it, it raised its sword in a salute, before settling into a stance. I paused. It hadn't run away, which meant that despite its madness and hunger for the flesh and soul of man, despite the fact that it had never meaningfully been able to threaten me, it had decided to die on its feet. Deciding that I could give it that much courtesy, I raised my borrowed blade before grasping it steadily with both hands.

Two warriors charged.

One walked away.

Cutting off the flow of power to the Light Sword, the blade's glow returned back to normal. it looked like I hadn't permanently altered it, thank goodness. With a twist of the pommel, I deactivated the weapon before running back to the Exorcist. Seeing their eyes closed and head now limp, I cursed, dropping the hilt of the sword to check their pulse. Faint, but still there. Pursing my lips, I channeled my Battle Aura into them. In response, my energy dropped slightly yet significantly, but in exchange their breathing eased noticeably.

In for a penny, in for a pound, I supposed, and pushed even more of my power into them. First a trickle, then a stream, and then a rushing river, before their wounds healed and their face regained a healthy flush. Once I was done, I ran across the alleyway, healing the other wounded, reattaching limbs best I could, before gathering them into one place. I felt my Battle Aura significantly depleted in a way that I hadn't before, but I couldn't help but feel… good. There was something about the feeling of directly dragging someone back from the brink of death that was unlike anything else, and I hadn't felt it since my previous lifetime.

Good feelings or not, however, I was left with a bit of a dilemma. Although I healed them, I couldn't exactly leave them in an alleyway, for someone or something to discover them. I wasn't sure if I wanted to call Nishina-san about this either, given that the shrine and the Church didn't exactly have open communication — evidently so, considering I probably would've been informed about an operation this close to my residence otherwise. And unfortunately, any church I could probably dump the exorcists off at would probably be one I shouldn't approach thanks to being excommunicated.

Which left me one last option.

Offering a mental apology, I patted down the exorcists until I found what I was searching for: an intact cell phone. Flipping it open, I went to the contacts. Thankfully, or perhaps unfortunately for the exorcist I had filched it from, the list was rather sparse, so I looked through it quickly.

Fr. Kiyotora

Good enough.

As my thumb hovered over the call button, an epiphany struck me. As someone excommunicated, it could make things pretty awkward for everyone involved if I was recognized as the person who helped this exorcist squad. And given that I had pulled them from the brink of death, they would be very interested in determining my identity — healing was an extremely sought after resource in DxD, best I could recall. But just like how the Stray Devil had avoided being damaged by Light Bullets, that problem wouldn't be a bother if it never happened in the first place. I had been fully dressed in clothes that didn't reveal the shape of my body beyond the vaguest sense, a surgical mask had still covered any portion of my face that would have been recognizable, and I hadn't spoken a single word to anyone in the entire encounter.

It would be a little embarrassing, but it wouldn't do to fumble at the finish line. I pressed down on the call button.

One ring. Two ring. Three rings—

"Kiyotora speaking," a firm, professional voice answered curtly. "Report."

Calling upon certain… techniques taught by a certain school of the North God Style that focused upon infiltration and surprise attacks, I shifted my larynx and adjusted the placement of my tongue in order to shrink my pharyngeal space in order to speak in a voice that absolutely no one would be able to connect with me.

"Hi Kiyotora-san~☆!" I sang out in my best sparkly Harajuku-style gyaru cadence. "An evil monster was being totes annoying, but I went and kicked its butt~☆!"

"What? Who is this?"

"Sorry, I can't stay for long, I think my sensei is calling me~☆," I pushed forward heedlessly. My voice was probably going to be sore if I kept it like this too long, so time was of the essence. "But you can find your friends at—"

Needless to say, as soon as I was finished, I fucking booked it. There was absolutely no way I was sticking around after that. My job here was over, and like any self-respecting young adult, there was no way in Hell that I was going to volunteer for unpaid overtime.

Sorry for the relatively late chapter -- I've had a hell of a week and a half. If you have a not-totally-negative relationship with your grandparents, spend time with them when you can -- seeing my grandmother half-immobile with sores from reusing a fucking diaper was a nightmarish experience, and that was just the beginning. This chapter would've come yesterday if it wasn't for my power constantly cutting out, haha... that's part of why a lot of it's pretty scuffed. Apologies once again.

Enough of my venting though, you're opening up this author's note for rolls, so here they are:

Martial Arts Prodigy
400 CP
Garou is known for his unparalleled ability to learn and master any martial art in record time, and now, so are you. Your mind is a vast reservoir of fighting knowledge, allowing you to analyze and replicate martial techniques simply by observing them. You can take bits and pieces from various styles, seamlessly blending them together into your own unique and devastating approach. In combat, you are a tactical genius, able to exploit weaknesses in even the most seasoned fighter's techniques, and within minutes, you can develop strategies to counter any opponent. There is no technique you cannot master, no fighting style you cannot surpass.
Source: One Punch Man, Chapter: Talent
18000 Words, 250 => 350 CP, miss

Blessings and Curses
200 CP
Whether it occurs due to a cultivation method or some bizarre physique there are some unique energies that can be displayed. This perk modifies your energy into one of those special versions. Your energy in particular is now capable of being used to heal allies and corrode enemies. This provides two main benefits. First you will now always have a method to heal others no matter where you are. The energy cost will depend on the severity of the injury and how strong the individual is. Second, your enemies will no longer be able to steal your energy. Well they still can, but doing so will harm them. In fact if you forcefully pump your energy into someone you can cripple and kill them. The cost follows the same rules as healing someone.
Source: Gourmet Of Another World, Chapter: Source
20000 words, 350 => 450 => 250 CP, hit

Satsui no Hadou
600 CP
The complete opposite of the Power of Nothingness, Satsui no Hado is a form of Ki that is rooted in the darker aspects of the natural human instinct (including the desire to survive, trample, and impose over opposition), and on a metaphysical level, the natural occurrence and manifestation of loss, decline, and destruction. To tap into the Satsui no Hado, a person must be so consumed with the desire for winning and perfection, be close to being killed, or else possess such intense rage and hatred, that they are willing to kill. While not granting full control or mastery, purchasing this perk does allow you to draw upon the power of Satsui no Hado. Just like the Power of Nothingness, Satsui no Hado makes its users incredibly powerful, resistant to many forms of physical and spiritual damage and transforms them into a better fighter. In stark contrast to the Power of Nothingness, the users of Satsui no Hado also gain the ability to sense, and potentially influence, the emergence of the Satsui no Hado in others. Only people who push themselves to be the best at any cost can take full advantage of it, however, the untrained mind can be driven into insanity if they are not mentally ready for it. To become fully immersed in Satsui no Hado and master it is to lose one's humanity and compassion. As such, while both "Power of Nothingness" and "Satsui no Hadou" can be purchased, and potentially acquired through training in-jump, they can't be active at the same time due to direct conflict between them.
Source: Street Fighter, Chapter: Source
22000 Words, 250 => 350 CP, Miss

Kind of a shame to miss Martial Arts Prodigy, but rolling Blessings and Curses after being excommunicated is insanely funny, so I can't super complain. That'll have some pretty funny interactions soon (tm)

I finally got around to some proper fight scenes, which are like my first conventional ones like... ever? I definitely feel the scuff in them, especially since Haru's outgrown their starter zone rather thoroughly at the moment. Things will probably move away from Tokyo at least for a bit in a chapter or two, I'll just have to figure out how. Rolls will probably disrupt my plans as usual. Nevertheless, feedback / ideas appreciated.

I can't think of anything else to say, but that's probably because I've only got three hours of sleep. Responses tomorrow, probably. See y'all.

Sometimes The Light At The End Of The Tunnel Is An Oncoming Train [DxD / Celestial Dojo SI]

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