[Kokonoe Residence — Morning]
"Nagano was hit by an earthquake last night," the news anchor buzzed from the TV like a fucking bumblebee, spouting bullshit in my ear. "There is a reported number of 250 people dead and 1,048 injured. Survivors reportedly have no recollection of the event — many claim they woke up in the middle of a devastated city. There is also no footage of the disaster so far. Musashino Tohru, reporting for TBS."
We sat around the kitchen table: me, flanked by Midorikawa and Haruka, and Mom across from us. The smell of omurice and miso soup filled the air... and yet, it made my stomach turn. The way they twisted the story was nothing short of laughable, pathetic. Earthquake... right.
I forced myself to chew a mouthful of rice, though it stuck in my throat like a pill you couldn't swallow with a gallon of water.
"This is horrible…" Mom said, setting down her chopsticks. "And to think the only day off I get is because of such a tragedy…"
Of course. Keep the humans dumb and docile — it's the oldest trick in the playbook. Whether it's human governments or supernatural pantheons, the result is the same. They hide the truth, and call it mercy.
I caught Haruka's eyes — her usual calm, her playful smirk... gone. Replaced by an unusual quiet. Midorikawa, on the other hand, stared at her untouched bowl, fingers trembling around her spoon. Her lips moved as if whispering a prayer that wouldn't come out.
"At least you got the day off…" I muttered, trying to cut the silence before it swallowed us.
If she calls me insensitive right now, I swear I'll snap. I'm the reason the death toll was that low.
But Mom just sighed. "You sound exhausted, Takashi. Did something happen at school again?"
I shook my head quickly. "Just… a long week."
She smiled faintly, like she didn't believe me but didn't want to press. "Well, take care of yourself, okay? You've been spacing out a lot lately."
Spacing out. Yeah, sure, that's one way to describe reliving a massacre.
I glanced at Haruka again — she was barely touching her food. Her gaze flickered toward the TV, then down.
"It wasn't an earthquake," she whispered under her breath. "Not really."
Suzuka reached across the table and laid a trembling hand over Haruka's.
"Don't," she murmured. "You'll make him remember."
Too late.
Their quiet grief pressed on me more than the news ever could. The sound of the anchor's voice faded into static in my ears, replaced by that memory — the cries, the flames, the smell of burned metal and blood.
My pulse quickened.
Midorikawa's hand closed around my right one. Haruka's fingers laced through my left, almost at the same time. Neither said anything, but I could feel it — the silent apology, the shared pain.
The TV kept talking about aftershocks. There were none. The real ones were right here, sitting at this table, pretending breakfast could still taste like something other than guilt.
I sighed, staring into my half-empty bowl. "Guess I'm still going to school…"
Haruka squeezed my hand lightly. "You don't have to," she said softly.
Midorikawa shook her head. "He does. They'll be waiting for him."
I didn't ask who she meant. I already knew.
The club. The reckoning.
I stood slowly, forcing a weak smirk. "Yeah. Somebody's gotta face the music."
Mom frowned. "You sure you're alright, Takashi?"
She never called me Takashi unless she was really worried about me or unless I did something wrong. Most of the time it was that annoying Takkun nickname.
"I'm fine, Mom."
Lie number two of the morning. If we count the whole day, the marathon is just beginning. If lying were an Olympic sport, I'd medal for sure. Gold, without question.
I grabbed my bag and slipped on my shoes. The two girls followed me to the door, quiet. When I turned to say goodbye, neither spoke — they just stood there, framed in the morning light, eyes still shadowed by Nagano.
I wanted to say something comforting, but the words never came.
So I just said, "Thanks for breakfast," and stepped outside.
As soon as I stepped outside into the cold streets of Kuoh, I lit a cigarette and let the smoke burn the taste of breakfast out of my mouth. People stared — kids, office workers, teachers on their way to school. None of them mattered. The world had better things to worry about than a failed adult trapped in a high schooler's body, smoking his way through the aftermath of a massacre.
Fucking fools.
Somewhere nearby, students laughed, cars passed, a corner bakery leaked the smell of freshly baked anpan. My mind filtered it out as the background noise from a bunch of NPCs. But, maybe, the biggest NPC was me.
I had a plan to deal with the club situation. Or, well, I guess I did. It was risky, and I don't know if the risk was worth it. Worst case? Death. Wouldn't be the first time that sounded like a good deal.
As I approached the gates of Kuoh Academy, that thought echoed — and then the music hit. Kanashimi no Mukou e...
No. Fuck no.
Not that song. Not today.
"Fuck you," I muttered to no one, forcing my brain to swap tracks.
Tsk. Fine... Something else, then.
I'm on the wrong side of heaven… and the righteous side of hell. After seeing hell, I'm not sure either side's worth a fuck. Still… anything's better than WatchMojo's number one pick for 'songs to kill yourself to.'
The lyrics looped in my head as exhaustion clawed through my body. Every step toward the gate felt heavier than the last. My heartbeat sounded like a countdown.
By the time I reached the schoolyard, I wasn't walking anymore. I was just moving. One second away from collapsing, one second away from not caring if I did.
When I reached my classroom, all eyes turned to me. I'm sure they were intrigued, I looked like a zombie. Like Walking Dead in the flesh.
Even Katase and Murayama looked like they pitied me. Asia glanced at me, a sad smile crossing her delicate features. Kiryuu flinched when she saw me, as if she saw death herself.
"Hey, isn't Kokonoe-kun kinda... scary today?". Wow. I made that pervert four-eyes lose her composure. Woe is me.
The two perverts, Matsuda and Motohama, turned to Hyoudou.
"Is bro okay?", they asked almost at the same time.
Hyoudou frowned, scratching the back of his head. "He didn't even look at us, man…"
Maybe I didn't. Maybe I didn't want to see my reflection in any of them.
I slid into my seat without a word. The chair creaked with a loud thud. I launched myself into it without a thought.
Hyoudou leaned forward in his chair, whispering, "Oi, Kokonoe. You good, dude?"
"No", I said flatly, signaling my unwillingness to continue this discussion.
"Fine. I don't care either way", he barked, almost like I wounded his pride.
I stared out the window. Sunlight hit the courtyard, painting everything gold. It looked like heaven. But I knew better... this was hell. My own hell.
[Occult Research Club — Afternoon]
Koneko POV
The clubroom felt heavier than usual.
Not loud. Not tense. Just heavy.
Like the air knew something was wrong, even if no one said it.
Buchou sat behind her desk, arms folded, eyes down. The rest of us were around the couch. The tea had gone cold. No one touched it.
"…We can't ignore this any longer," Buchou said finally. Her voice was calm, but I could hear the strain underneath. "Kokonoe's actions in Nagano were reckless. He defied orders, attacked me, and protected a human who should've had her memories erased. If I report this to the House of Gremory… he'll be labeled a stray."
That word made my stomach twist. Stray. No. Not him.
"Then do it," Issei-senpai said too quickly. Too loud. His fists clenched. "He hit you, Buchou. He went against his King. That's betrayal!"
Buchou didn't answer. Just stared into her tea like it might explain something.
Akeno-senpai smiled — that faint kind of smile that doesn't reach her eyes. "Issei-kun," she said softly, "you think too simply. He's changed since meeting Yamamoto Haruka and Midorikawa Suzuka. He's not the same boy who joined us. Maybe what happened in Nagano wasn't rebellion. Maybe it was conviction."
Conviction... or stupidity. Or both.
Kiba-senpai sighed. "We should wait, Buchou. If Kokonoe really wanted to leave, he would've. Let's see what he does next."
Asia fidgeted, her hands tight around her skirt. "He saved people," she said. "In Nagano. He saved us."
Silence again.
No one could argue that.
I kept my eyes on the floor. Because I didn't know what to say.
My mind went back to Nagano — fire, smoke, blood. And him. Standing in front of me. Taking that blast meant for me without flinching.
"Go back to your club, Koneko," he'd said, voice calm, eyes already fixed on the enemy. "Me and Haruka will handle this."
He was like that. Always stepping in without thinking. Always getting hurt.
Everyone else kept talking — rules, loyalty, consequences — but all I could think about was how he stood there, between us and death. No orders. No hesitation.
Just… certainty.
And the way he looked at those girls, Yamamoto-san and Midorikawa-san — something changed in his eyes. Warmth. Pain. I couldn't tell. I just knew I didn't like it. I hated that I noticed.
"...Koneko," Buchou said suddenly. Her voice cut through the silence. "You were closest to him during the mission. What do you think? Is he a threat to us?"
Everyone looked at me. I wanted to say no.
That he wasn't dangerous. That he just couldn't stand doing nothing.
But Buchou's eyes told me she wanted a different answer.
So I stayed quiet.
The silence stretched until Buchou sighed. "Very well. I'll postpone the report for now."
Everyone exhaled, like they'd been holding their breath. It almost felt like things would settle—
Then the door slid open.
He walked in.
Kokonoe Takashi. Hands in his pockets, uniform messy, eyes half-lidded like he hadn't slept — or didn't care to.
"Oh," he said, glancing around. "You're all talking about me. Don't let me interrupt."
The air froze.
Issei-senpai shot up. "You've got some nerve—"
"Sit," Senpai said flatly.
And Issei-senpai actually did.
Even Buchou blinked. I didn't move. Couldn't move.
Seeing him alive again — after Nagano — made my chest feel… light. Annoyingly light.
I'd never admit it, but… I was relieved.
He walked up to Buchou's desk. No hesitation. No fear. Just that same calm, fatal certainty.
"Y'know," he said, voice low, "there's a saying. All it takes for evil to win is for good men to do nothing."
He looked up at her, eyes sharp and tired at the same time.
"I'm not good. I'm not evil. I'm just human. Even after becoming a devil… I'm still a human who simply can't ignore the suffering of his own kind."
The words cut deep. Buchou's jaw tightened. Kiba-senpai shifted, blade ready.
Akeno-senpai's magic flickered faintly in the air.
"But we all know," Senpai said quietly, "how people who try to do the right thing end up."
He reached into his jacket. Akeno-senpai's lightning flared. Kiba-senpai's sword gleamed... But all he did was place something on the desk.
A knife.
"Kill me."
The sound of it hitting the wood echoed.
Asia-senpai gasped. Even Issei-senpai shut up.
I could still see Nagano — the fire, the blood — him falling after taking that hit for me.
And now this. Standing there, like he'd already given up.
He smiled. Not happy. Just tired.
"Oh yeah," he said softly. "Do I get last words?"
No one spoke.
He sighed. "I always wanted to sing this before I died."
Then he did.
---
Ha tehetném, az égbe kiáltanék fel
Hadd vigye el a hangom messze a szél!
Én látom, de mégsem érem fel ésszel
Csak hamis démonokat kergetnék!
Ez ma még fáj, a pokol vár
De holnap nevetve mondok imát!
Hogy ez az én sorsom, mert nekem ez jár... nekem ez jár…
(If I could, I'd shout my voice to the sky,
Let the wind carry it far and wide.
I see it, yet can't grasp it with reason —
Chasing false demons of my own making.
Today still hurts, hell awaits,
But tomorrow I'll laugh when I pray.
This is my fate — because it's what I deserve.)
---
The lyrics hit harder than any spell. Sung in Hungarian. Our devil power translated it — every line. And maybe that made it worse. Because it wasn't just a song. It was everything he'd been holding in.
When his voice faded, Buchou stood.
"Kokonoe," she said, voice trembling, "what are you trying to prove?"
He looked at her, eyes dull.
"I have nothing to prove to you or anyone, for that matter.," he said. "Just… get it over with."
The air felt dead. Even Buchou's aura flickered weakly before fading out.
"No," she whispered. "That's not how this ends."
Akeno-senpai lowered her hand. Kiba-senpai sheathed his sword. Asia-senpai cried openly now.
And me— I moved before I realized it.
I stepped forward and kicked Senpai in the stomach, hard. He fell, the breath knocked out of him, the knife forgotten.
Before anyone could react, I dropped to my knees — grabbed him, landed on top of him, held him down. Tight. Too tight.
"Koneko...", he began, trailing off.
He stared at me, surprised. I didn't care.
Tears hit his uniform. Mine. I hated it.
"Senpai," I said — my voice cracked. "Don't talk like that. Don't even think like you're ready to die. I hate it. I hate you talking like that."
He didn't fight back. Just stayed still, breathing shallow, tired eyes watching me.
The others stayed quiet.
The knife sat untouched on Buchou's desk.
Everything else… could wait.
Right now, it was just me. And him.
And that stupid warmth in my chest I kept pretending wasn't there.
No one spoke. Not Buchou. Not anyone.
After a long pause, Buchou exhaled. "…Meeting dismissed."
And they left. One by one. Until it was only us.
I didn't let go. He didn't tell me to.
After a while, he muttered, "…You hit hard."
"You deserved it," I said, still sniffling.
He chuckled weakly. "Can't argue with that."
More silence. Not heavy anymore. Just… quiet.
I looked at him. Messy hair. Dark circles. Faint smile. Still the same idiot who threw himself into danger for me.
"You should've let me take that hit," I said quietly.
He glanced up. "Nah. You're smaller, easier to break."
My face tightened. "Idiot."
"Yeah," he said softly. "I guess I am."
For a moment, neither of us moved.
Then his hand came up — slow, hesitant — and landed gently on my head. A light pat. Warm. Careful.
I froze.
Then felt my face heat up, all the way to my ears.
"Stop that," I muttered.
It came out weaker than I wanted.
He just smiled a little. Didn't say anything.
The warmth stayed... Even after I let go, later than I should have.
[Bucuresti, Romania - Night]
I knew she wouldn't kill me if I pulled out all that show, but I got caught up in my own act. It's like when you pull out real feelings into the performance of your life... show no emotion and it can destroy your soul. Show too much emotion, and you'll just bleed. And it's funny, cause some part of me wanted to die in that clubroom. Half of me is pissed off that I didn't. I couldn't stay. I needed relief. I needed the familiar sensation of downfall in its mundane forms... a joint, some powder, a pill. Old habits die hard, it seems, and for now, I just don't wanna feel a thing.
Nelu provided me the fastest escape from that hellhole that is Japan. Brutality and threats provided me the desired temporary relief.
I was in the bathroom stall of a Lukoil somewhere around Gara de Nord. Powder lined up on my phone, bill ready.
Sniff, sniff, go, invigorate the nose.
I'm so fucked up.
They're not my friends. Not my team. Not Rias, not Akeno, not Asia, not Kiba — and in no way in hell, Hyoudou. They're allies of circumstance, people orbiting a version of me that doesn't exist anymore.
But Koneko Toujou... she's a different story. She's mine.
Not because I wanted her. But because she was the only one who cared enough to see me — the part I buried under the ashes of who I used to be.
And now I want her. The same way I want Haruka. The same way I want Suzuka.
I don't know if its out of love. But, probably, it's out of a desire to feel real again.
And this desire left me with a lingering question, one that is probably not going to find an answer soon. Am I still capable of love? Or is everything I am nothing but a pathetic projection of my own lies?
I feared the answer.