May 1st, 2012, Kuoh Town, Day.
The festive energy of Golden Week had settled over Kuoh Town like a bright, warm blanket. Streets usually dominated by the predictable rhythms of school life now buzzed with a different kind of vitality, filled with families, the chatter of friends, and the leisurely pace of a population granted a rare reprieve.
Amidst this cheerful chaos, Ito Irumi clung to her own version of normalcy.
"You are welcome, Miss. See you soon!" she chirped, offering a final wave to the elderly shopkeeper before stepping back onto the sun-dappled sidewalk.
Her morning had been a pleasant, familiar routine of wandering through the bustling shopping arcades, popping into local stores to see if any needed an extra pair of hands.
'I love Golden Week so much!' she shouted internally, a genuine smile on her face as she watched a group of children chase bubbles. 'I don't have to go to school, and I can roam around town whenever I want!'
'I see you recovered your spirits with remarkable ease after all the chaos that occurred yesterday,' Ddraig observed, his voice a low rumble in her mind. 'I thought you might be… more collected. Subdued.'
'What do you mean, partner? Everything turned out perfectly, didn't it?' Irumi replied, her mental tone bright. 'The President is free, no one got seriously hurt, and Senpai won.'
Then, a sudden realization struck her, and she facepalmed physically, drawing a curious glance from a passerby.
'I totally forgot to seek out Master! After the Rating Game and everything!'
Driven by a sudden sense of urgency, the Red Dragon Empress fished her phone from her pocket and quickly dialed Makoto's number. She held the device to her ear, listening to the ringtone trill once, twice, three times. There was no answer.
'Easy there, partner. It can wait until next time,' Ddraig said, attempting to be soothing.
'No, no! I have to tell Master Kohryu everything! He'll want to know how his training helped!' she insisted, adamant.
Her feet were already carrying her toward the last place she had seen the enigmatic blue door of the Velvet Room: the vicinity of the shopping mall.
"Be there, please be there," she murmured to herself, her pace quickening as the mall's entrance came into view. She scanned the familiar walls, the planters, the nondescript service doors.
The distinctive, azure-hued door with its intricate patterning was nowhere to be found. A sigh deflated her. 'Just my luck…'
'Where could Senpai be?' she wondered, closing her eyes in thought. The sounds of the town—distant laughter, the hum of traffic, a shop's jingle—faded as she concentrated.
Then, an idea lit up her mind, and she snapped her fingers. "The music shop!"
It was a logical guess. Changing course, she weaved through the afternoon crowd until she arrived at the familiar storefront with its display of guitars and posters of bands she didn't recognize.
And just as she had hoped, there was Makoto Yuki, emerging from the shop with a small bag in hand, his ever-present earphones already resting around his neck.
"Senpai!" she called out, jogging the short distance to him.
Makoto turned, his expression as placid as ever, though a faint shadow of weariness lingered around his eyes. "Ito. Are you good? Sorry I didn't look for you yesterday. After everything that happened, I spent the rest of the day trying to… calm down Zekram Bael."
He let out a small, weary sigh, the memory of the ancient devil's fervent, overwhelming presence clearly a fresh trial.
'That patriarch was far too fanatical for my liking,' Kohryu's voice echoed in the shared space of Makoto's soul, a note of distaste clear. 'Lucifer, what exactly did you tell him?'
'Nothing beyond the necessary,' the Morning Star replied, his tone dripping with casual superiority. 'I merely instructed him to follow every order of the Universe. His enthusiasm appears to be a native trait.'
"Oh, I'm more than fine!" Irumi assured him, her hands flying up in an expansive gesture. "Though it would have been nice if you'd shown up yourself. We had a huge party last night at the clubroom to celebrate the President's freedom! There was cake, and Akeno made tea, and Kiba tried to play festive music on a violin…" She trailed off, her expression shifting to a playful pout. "But it wasn't the same without you, Senpai."
"I'll make up for it. Promise," Makoto said, the sigh returning. It was a soft sound, an acceptance of the social debt he now owed.
"I'm counting on it!" she declared, her smile returning. Then, another thought struck her, and her eyes widened in comic horror. "Oh! I totally forgot! Have you done anything for the Music Club? I haven't even spoken with the other members since we left for Mount Fuji! It's been two weeks—they'll probably think we vanished off the face of the earth!"
The weight of her neglected club responsibilities suddenly descended upon her.
"Right…" Makoto murmured. He, too, had utterly forgotten about the Music Club. The realization caused him to avert his gaze, a faint, uncharacteristic flush of embarrassment coloring his cheeks as he stared fixedly at a crack in the pavement.
A soft, amused laugh resonated from Messiah, followed by similar chuckles from Kohryu and Cendrillon. 'Oh, Universe! Your face right now is truly a picture!' the Ash Princess chimed, her delight evident.
"Senpai?" Irumi leaned closer, peering at him with innocent concern. "Your face is all red. Are you feeling sick?"
Makoto shook his head sharply, as if dispelling both the lingering awkwardness and the psychic commentary of his personas. He deftly slipped his earphones back over his ears, a familiar barrier against the world.
"N-no. We'll… figure something out when Golden Week ends and we have to return to school," he stated, effectively postponing the problem to a future date.
"You're right!" Irumi agreed, her anxiety melting away as quickly as it had appeared. "Meanwhile, we can take a stroll around town! I was just heading to see a client of mine. He's a chef who's opening a new restaurant, and he asks me to be a taste-tester for his dishes. Want to come?" She was already pointing down the street, ready to lead the way.
Makoto gave a silent nod and fell into step beside her, his quiet presence a stark contrast to her animated energy.
As they walked, Irumi's thoughts spilled out in a lively, unfiltered stream. She talked about the different shops, a funny-shaped cloud, the new song she'd heard on the radio, jumping from one topic to the next with unrestrained enthusiasm. Makoto listened, his silence not one of boredom, but of absorption, a calm harbor for her chattering waves.
'The Magician chatters like an excited fledgling, hee hoo,' Jack Frost observed. 'Her words are like scattered seeds,' the Demon Doll chimed in softly, its perception attuned to a deeper layer beneath Irumi's cheerful monologue. 'Each one carries a hidden weight, a hope seeking soil.'
"Senpai? Are you listening?" Irumi's voice paused, and she glanced up at him. Seeing his placid expression, she misinterpreted his quiet.
"Oh… sorry. I must be boring you. I used to do this with my dad. He always listened, even to the silly stuff…" Her voice faltered, the sentence trailing off into a sudden, hollow silence. She visibly shook herself, as if physically casting off the memory. "But anyway! It completely slipped my mind earlier! I wanted to ask Master Kohryu what his thoughts were on the Rating Game! My performance, I mean."
Kohryu let out a mental sigh, a sound like wind through ancient bamboo. 'This child is profoundly resilient, yet she buries her pain beneath relentless motion. Still, honesty is due. Universe, tell her I could not have expected better from her first true trial.'
"He says he's proud of you," Makoto relayed, his own voice quiet but firm. "You did good, Ito. Really."
Despite the praise, a shadow passed over Irumi's face. Her forehead creased into a frown, and a soft, frustrated click of her tongue escaped her.
"B-but I still failed," she whispered, the words sharp and brittle. "We lost. And then we had to rely on you to fix it! Again!" Her voice began to climb, trembling with a sudden, volcanic emotion. "It's just like when I lost my parents… powerless, watching everything fall apart. I hate it. I hate being a puppet at the mercy of fate! I don't want to stand on the sidelines anymore!"
Tears, hot and insistent, welled up in her eyes, blurring her vision.
'Partne—' Ddraig began, but his thought was cut off violently.
'Shut up, you too, Ddraig!' Irumi's mental cry was a lash of pain and anger. 'You're always so distant about my problems! You're not helping, okay? Just… just leave me alone for a while.'
The raw outburst left a psychic silence in its wake. In the physical world, Irumi seemed to suddenly become aware of where she was—on a public street, with Makoto beside her.
She gulped hard, forcing the sob back down her throat. With a visible effort, she plastered a shaky, unconvincing smile onto her face, the expression not reaching her wet eyes.
"Sorry, Senpai," she chuckled, the sound horribly false. "I don't know what got into me. Just… ignore that. I just need a little time to myself, I think. Sorry for wasting your time."
Without waiting for a response, she offered a hurried wave, turned on her heel, and walked quickly away, disappearing into the flow of the crowd within moments.
Makoto watched her go, then slowly shook his head. 'It figures,' he thought, a pang of understanding in his heart. 'She watched her parents die. The fact that she can smile at all is a miracle in itself.'
'It is a common coping mechanism, hee hoo,' Jack Frost said, his usual cheer subdued. 'Inwardly, the Magician is terrified of losing the few people she has left. By forcing cheerfulness and constant activity, she hopes to prove her worth, to ensure she is not abandoned, and that no one else can be taken from her.' The Demon Doll gave a soft, sympathetic chime in agreement.
'Should I speak with Rias about this?' Makoto wondered, but he quickly dismissed the idea. Bringing the heiress into this, with her own recent torrent of family-related trauma, would likely complicate things further, not soothe them.
'Talking about it directly may not help her yet, Makoto,' Messiah advised, his tone gentle. 'She needs to be proven wrong by her own actions, by tangible evidence of her strength. For now, all you can do is be present and support her when she stumbles.'
'I suggest you listen to her more closely than you did today, hee hoo,' Jack Frost added. 'While I would gladly lend an ear, hee hoo, I am certain she would prefer it to be you.'
May 1st, 2012, Kuoh Town, Late Afternoon.
The mall was bathed in the warm, slanting light of late afternoon. Makoto found himself there, somewhat reluctantly, at Elizabeth's unwavering insistence.
"Liz, why are we here, exactly?" he asked, looking around at the displays of kitschy keychains, local sweets, and embroidered towels. She had led him directly to the section dedicated to souvenirs, an area that thrived on the rare tourist passing through Kuoh.
"I wish to search for statuettes of the gods of Takamagahara," the Velvet Room attendant declared, her eyes already sparkling as she swooped into the first shop, her blue dress a splash of otherworldly color amongst the mundane trinkets.
'Izanagi, what exactly transpired during your visit to the Shinto gods of this world with the Attendant?' Apollo inquired, curiosity piqued.
'Nothing beyond the expected diplomatic formalities,' Izanagi's stern voice replied. 'Apart, of course, from the Attendant being her singular, irrepressible self.'
"Any particular reason for this?" Makoto asked, following her as she peered critically at a shelf lined with smiling Daruma dolls and ceramic Maneki-neko.
"The Tower informed me that humans often build personal shrines in their homes by placing miniature representations of the divine," Elizabeth explained, picking up a particularly garlish figurine of what might have been Daikokuten and examining it with a critical frown. "I find it a perfect way to further immerse myself in and appreciate human cultural practices."
"You are not planning to turn the Velvet Room into one giant shrine, are you?" Makoto asked, a faint note of concern in his voice.
"I have selected a suitable alcove within the lower floors of Tartarus for that purpose," she stated matter-of-factly, replacing the figurine. "I am certain Death will not mind."
For the next half-hour, they moved from shop to shop. Elizabeth's standards, however, were impossibly high. "No, this is all wrong," she finally sighed in disappointment after the fifth store. "The human artistic interpretation of divinity is completely divergent from their true aspect. The essence is absent."
"Usually, people don't see gods every day," Makoto pointed out drily. "Or ever, for that matter."
His words trailed off as Elizabeth suddenly stopped and pointed across the mall's open atrium. "Is that not the Magician?"
She was pointing to a small café with outdoor seating. There, at one of the tables, sat Irumi. She was with a brown-haired boy of average height, engaged in conversation. She held a cup of coffee, and her expression was one of relaxed, carefree attention. This time, however, the cheerfulness on her face seemed less like a straining mask and more like a genuine, quiet enjoyment.
Makoto reached over and gently lowered Elizabeth's pointed finger. "It's rude to point at people in public, Liz."
"Oh, my apologies. Shall we go greet her and her brown-haired acquaintance?" Elizabeth asked, already taking a step forward.
Makoto shook his head. "No. Let her be."
'Conversing with someone entirely unacquainted with the complexities of the… more tumultuous side of her existence can prove remarkably therapeutic,' Kohryu observed sagely.
'Hee hoo! A correct assessment!' Jack Frost agreed.
'A girl needs her space to simply be a girl, after all!' Cendrillon beamed. 'Now, do prevent the Attendant from marching over and utterly ruining the moment!'
Elizabeth's head swiveled back towards Makoto, a clear, elegant frown appearing on her brow. "Did someone, perhaps known in some circles as Cinderella or Cendrillon, say something unflattering about me?" Her voice was dangerously sweet, barely above a whisper.
'The Attendant is simply jealous of my charm and grace!' Cendrillon retorted with a childish haughtiness.
"Let it be, Liz," Makoto said firmly, steering the conversation back. "Perhaps Kegawa's antique shop has something more aligned with your… aesthetic expectations."
Elizabeth's frown instantly transformed into a smile of renewed interest. "Oh, Death's tanuki friend! You are quite right. His collection is far more likely to possess items of authenticity. Let us go."
As they walked away, Makoto allowed himself one last glance toward the café. Irumi was laughing at something the boy said, and for a moment, she looked like any other teenager enjoying a holiday afternoon, the terrible weights she carried momentarily, blessedly, set aside.
For Issei Hyoudou, this was nothing short of a paradigm-shifting event. He was sitting at a café. With a girl. Voluntarily. This scenario existed so far outside the normal boundaries of his life—which typically oscillated between being ignored and being actively scorned by the female population, save for his two fellow perverts, Matsuda and Motohama—that he was half-convinced he was dreaming.
Ito Irumi, the bespectacled girl from the Music Club who shared his classroom. She was the only girl who had ever spoken to him without a look of profound disgust or a dismissive scoff. 'She's still the only one…' he thought, his mind reeling.
"Hyoudou?" Her voice cut through his internal spiral. He looked up and met her gaze, which was inquisitive but not unkind.
"Y-yes!? I was, uh... thinking! Yes, just thinking!" Issei stammered, his words tumbling out in a flustered rush as he desperately tried to reassemble his composure.
Irumi laughed, a light, easy sound that didn't feel mocking. She took another sip of her coffee. "I'm actually really enjoying this, Hyoudou, you know?" she said, though her tone softened, touched with a melancholy he couldn't quite place.
Issei's eyes flickered with uncertainty. This was uncharted territory. "Ito… why are you doing this? Don't get me wrong. I'm… I'm having a good time. But… why me?" he asked, a faint spark of genuine confusion threading through his voice.
He was Issei Hyoudou, a pervert, a loser, a background character. He wasn't someone like that annoyingly perfect Kiba Yuuto or that cool, mysterious new guy, Mochizuki Ryoji.
"You know, Hyoudou," Irumi began, setting her cup down and looking at him thoughtfully. "I think people have been taking your… antics… way too seriously. Everyone treats you like you're some kind of dangerous maniac. And I won't lie, I used to think the same way."
She paused, her expression turning inward for a second.
"But lately, I've been rethinking a lot of things. Seeing people differently. So… consider this my way of saying I'm sorry for just going along with it before."
The words hit Issei with force. A lump formed in his throat, and his vision blurred with sudden, unexpected tears. No one had ever apologized to him for anything. He quickly swiped a hand across his eyes, a surge of something warm and fierce filling his chest. With a newfound courage that felt foreign but right, he met her gaze directly.
"I… I really appreciate that, Ito. Thank you," he said, his voice thicker than he intended, but steady.