Morning in Kuoh had the kind of calm that felt manufactured.
The streets were clean. The crosswalk signals chirped politely. Vending machines hummed like tame little engines. Students in neat uniforms moved in flocks, chatting about tests and clubs and weekend plans, their lives small enough to fit inside schedules.
I'd stood on battlefields where the sky tore open and poured light like blood. I'd watched angels and devils turn faith into weaponry. I'd seen the Underworld's nobility smile while ordering death like it was etiquette.
And now I was in a town where the biggest danger most people feared was being late.
It should've been boring in the harmless way.
Instead, it was boring in the dangerous way—like a room full of gas that didn't know it was waiting for a spark.
I walked with my hands in my pockets, the morning sun warming my face. Kuroka trailed half a step behind, her hood up, her gait relaxed in that feline way that hid how ready she was to pounce. Human eyes slid right over her. They didn't register the sharpness in her presence, the way her golden gaze tracked everything. They didn't notice how the air around her felt… awake.
That was fine.
Humans were always the last to understand what lived in their walls.
Kuroka's ears twitched under the hood. "Sukuna-sama," she murmured, voice low enough that only I could hear. "Are we just… walking in? Like normal people?"
I glanced at her. "Yes."
She blinked, and I could tell her mind was working through it, trying to pin down the angle. Kuroka was many things—feral, devoted, violent when she felt like it—but she wasn't stupid. She could smell intent the way other people smelled rain.
"Why?" she asked softly. "You hate rules. Schools are rules."
I smiled. "Exactly."
She stared at me like I'd spoken a riddle.
I stopped at the edge of an intersection, watching the stream of students heading toward Kuoh Academy. Their chatter rose and fell like birdsong. Some smiled. Some yawned. Some walked too close together, wrapped up in their own little worlds.
Behind them—underneath them—was the real town. The one with invisible borders. The one with wards and territories and old grudges pressed into the soil.
The one that had already decided it would explode.
"Kuroka," I said, "Kuoh is a powder keg."
Her eyes narrowed. "Nya… that I can feel."
"Good." I let the words hang for a moment, then turned to her. "We're attending the school."
Her confusion sharpened into disbelief. "Attending?"
"Yes."
Her tails weren't visible under the cloak, but I could see the way her shoulders shifted—a cat preparing to flick them out anyway, as if her body couldn't help wanting to show emotion.
"You want to sit in classrooms," she said slowly, "and listen to humans talk about math."
I shrugged. "Maybe."
Kuroka's mouth opened, then closed again. She took a breath, as if trying to speak in a way that wouldn't sound too much like she was questioning a god.
"Why would you—" she began.
I looked at the school in the distance, the sunlight catching on the windows like quiet flame.
"Chaos," I said simply.
Kuroka froze.
I continued walking. The crosswalk light shifted, and I stepped off the curb with the confidence of someone who didn't believe in consequences.
Kuroka followed, her voice catching up after a beat. "Chaos?"
"I'm bored," I said. "And this town is full of people pretending to have control. Devils guarding their little territory. Fallen angels lurking like rats behind church walls. Sacred Gear holders walking around with bombs in their souls and no idea how close they are to detonating."
Kuroka's gaze sharpened further, ears twitching. She could hear the excitement underneath my calm.
"I don't want to rule Kuoh," I added. "I don't want to save it. I want to see what happens when the lid gets lifted."
Kuroka's lips curved. "Nya… you really are the worst."
"Thank you."
She hesitated, then said, almost cautiously, "If you're going to make trouble… why bring me into it? The devils here know me. They'll—"
I turned my head slightly. "They'll try."
That was the end of that thought.
Kuroka exhaled, a quiet sound that wasn't fear. It was satisfaction. She loved being a weapon. She loved being mine. She loved that I didn't treat her past like a stain that needed cleansing. I treated it like a fact, and facts could be used.
Then she shifted closer, her tone softening into something more personal, more dangerous. "And… Koneko-chan."
The name made her voice tighten.
I glanced at her again. Her expression was controlled, but the smallest crack showed in her eyes. The Underworld could fear her all it wanted, could label her a criminal and a stray and a monster, but she was still a sister.
"You can finally see her again," I said.
Kuroka stopped walking.
I stopped too, but only because I felt the pause behind me, like a leash tugging on instinct.
Slowly, she stepped in front of me. Up close, her golden eyes were brighter, less playful. Her hood slipped just enough for me to see the tips of her ears. The wind teased a strand of black hair across her cheek.
"I thought you wouldn't care about that," she said.
I leaned forward slightly. "I don't."
Her expression flickered—hurt, fast and sharp.
Then I smirked. "But you do."
Kuroka's breath caught. It was subtle, but I heard it. Her hands curled at her sides, claws half-ready, like she didn't know whether to strike or embrace.
"You're cruel," she whispered.
I tilted my head. "And you're still here."
Her lips trembled, and then she surged forward, grabbing my collar and pulling me down.
Her mouth met mine.
It wasn't gentle.
Kuroka didn't love gently. She loved like she did everything else—with teeth just beneath the surface.
Her kiss tasted like heat and blood memory, like devotion that had been sharpened into obsession. I let her. I let her take what she wanted, because she was mine, and I enjoyed the way she forgot the world when she touched me.
When she pulled back, her cheeks were faintly flushed. Her eyes held that wild shine again, as if kissing me had reminded her exactly what kind of creature she'd chosen to orbit.
"My Sukuna-sama," she breathed, voice husky. "If this ends with the whole town burning…"
I smiled. "Then we'll roast marshmallows."
She laughed, soft and bright, and we kept walking.
Kuoh Academy rose ahead like a polished lie.
The gates were open, students funneling in, their shoes tapping on stone, their voices blending into one constant stream of youth. The campus smelled like trimmed grass and fresh paper and adolescent perfume.
I stepped onto the grounds and felt it immediately—thin lines of magic woven into the air like invisible thread. Wards. Detection nets. Subtle barriers designed to keep certain things out and keep certain secrets in.
Devil craftsmanship. Clean. Confident. Territorial.
I rolled my shoulders and decided not to break them yet.
Kuroka walked at my side, and the atmosphere around us changed—not for the humans, who remained blissfully ignorant, but for the unseen eyes pressed into the space between worlds.
I could feel the moment we were noticed.
A ripple.
A tightening.
Like a throat preparing to swallow something it didn't trust.
Kuroka's hood hid her face from most, but it didn't matter. Devils didn't need eyes to recognize a stray.
And Kuroka wasn't just any stray.
She was a story.
I slid my hand up my chest, fingers brushing the skin where my markings lay dormant. They were part of me, etched into flesh like a curse's signature. Even hidden, they wanted to breathe.
Not here.
Not yet.
With a thought—not magic, not exactly—I folded them away. The lines retreated beneath my skin as if ink sinking into paper. The extra edge in my presence dulled, masked by something close enough to human to pass at a glance.
To human senses, I became a tall transfer student with sharp eyes and a strange calm.
To supernatural senses…
I became an absence.
Not a void like a Sacred Gear. Not a demon aura. Not holy light.
Just a quiet wrongness that made the air hesitate.
Kuroka glanced at me, impressed despite herself. "You're hiding it," she murmured.
"Of course."
She smirked. "You're still terrifying."
I let out a quiet laugh as we moved through the entrance hall.
And then I saw the shift.
A cluster of students in the hall—girls with perfect posture, boys who walked like they owned the floor, an invisible line of authority around them. They weren't actually different to human eyes. They looked like popular students, class reps, honors kids.
But their souls spoke louder.
Devils.
Not low-tier strays or little imps. Proper devils, trained, disciplined, part of a structure.
And they noticed Kuroka like a lighthouse notices a ship.
Some froze mid-step. Some stiffened. Some reached instinctively for power they couldn't show in public.
Kuroka's smile widened under her hood, pleased by the attention.
"Here we go," she whispered.
The air shifted again, heavier this time.
And then—
Rias Gremory appeared at the far end of the hall.
I knew her face. Red hair like a flame that didn't flicker. Green eyes that held nobility and loneliness in the same breath. She walked with a calm that made space for her without asking.
Beside her—slightly shorter, black hair, violet eyes, presence sharp as a blade—was Sona Sitri.
Two queens.
Two leaders.
Two devils whose names mattered in the Underworld.
They weren't alone. Their peerages moved around them like invisible formation—guards, bishops, knights. They were pretending to be students. The lie was well-practiced.
Their eyes locked onto Kuroka.
The temperature in the hallway dropped—not literally, but in the way tension can make a room feel colder.
Rias's expression tightened first. Sona's followed a heartbeat later, more controlled but no less dangerous.
They moved.
Not running. Not panicking.
Advancing with the authority of those used to dragging problems into cages.
Students flowed around them, unaware they were walking through the opening move of an execution.
Rias's gaze cut to me next—brief, assessing—then returned to Kuroka like a blade returning to its target.
"Kuroka," Rias said, voice low, polite in the way nobility could be polite before violence. "You're far from where you should be."
Kuroka's shoulders relaxed, as if she'd been waiting for this for months. "Nya… hello, Rias Gremory. It's been a while."
Sona's eyes narrowed. "Why are you here?"
Kuroka tilted her head. "To visit family."
Rias stepped closer.
I stepped between them.
It wasn't dramatic. I didn't announce it. I simply moved into the space that was about to become hands on Kuroka, and I let the hallway feel my presence.
Rias halted mid-step, eyes flicking to my face.
Sona's gaze sharpened.
"Who are you?" Rias asked.
I smiled, small. "Her problem," I said, then nodded toward Kuroka. "Not yours."
Sona's voice was colder. "This stray devil is wanted."
"She's mine," I said.
That landed like a slap.
Rias's eyes widened slightly, then narrowed. "Excuse me?"
I looked at her, calm enough to be insulting. "I won't allow anyone to put their hands on her."
Behind Rias, I saw movement—one of her peerage shifting, preparing to grab Kuroka fast and end the conversation before it became a scene.
I didn't raise my voice.
"If anyone touches her," I said, "I'll kill everyone in this building."
A beat of silence hit the hall like a dropped weight.
Humans still walked past, still laughed, still didn't understand, but the devils around us froze. The air became tight, compressed.
Sona's expression darkened. "Are you threatening—"
I moved again.
Fast this time.
Not a blur that humans would notice—just a shift of position that turned a student's chatter into a cut-off gasp.
Saji Genshirou was there.
He was part of Sona's peerage, a pawn with a Sacred Gear— of the Prison Dragon. A tough kid with a backbone and a tendency to throw himself into danger.
He didn't even have time to react.
My hand closed around his throat.
One second he was stepping forward.
The next, he was lifted off the ground, feet kicking uselessly, eyes wide in shock.
The hallway's sound died around us.
Not because students stopped talking—because the devils stopped breathing.
Saji's hands clawed at my wrist. He tried to activate his Gear, but my grip was too tight, my pressure too absolute.
I leaned in slightly, close enough that he could smell me—human, yes, but wrong underneath.
His face flushed. His eyes bulged.
Rias's aura flared, crimson and heavy. "Let him go."
Sona's voice snapped, sharper. "Release him. Now."
I didn't.
Instead I looked at Rias and Sona over Saji's struggling body like he was furniture.
"I said don't touch her," I repeated. "This is your demonstration."
Saji made a choking sound.
I tightened my fingers just enough to make him understand what helpless felt like.
"I don't care if you're devils," I continued calmly. "I don't care if you're nobles, leaders, queens, future Satans. If you put your hands on what's mine, I will turn this place into a graveyard and walk out like it was a normal day."
Rias's gaze flicked to Kuroka, then back to me, trying to read my intent. She wasn't stupid. She could feel the confidence behind my threat, the way it wasn't performance.
Sona's eyes narrowed further. "You're not a devil."
"No," I agreed, and smiled. "I'm worse."
Saji's vision started to dim. I could see it. The panic in his eyes shifted into that foggy terror of oxygen running out.
I released him.
He dropped, coughing violently, hands on his throat, face red and wet-eyed.
I didn't look down.
I looked at Rias and Sona.
"We're here not as enemies," I said. "But we can be."
Kuroka stepped beside me, her hood falling back enough for them to see her smile fully. She looked pleased, like watching me threaten queens was a form of affection.
Rias's voice came out careful. "Why are you here?"
I tilted my head slightly, as if the answer was obvious. "Because she wants to see her sister."
At that, something moved behind Rias—Koneko Toujou's presence, quiet but sharp, like a small blade. I hadn't seen her yet, but I felt her react. A sudden spike of emotion—shock, fear, something like hope strangled by distrust.
Kuroka's eyes softened for a fraction of a second at the invisible ripple.
"She's here," Kuroka whispered, almost to herself.
Sona's jaw tightened. "This is not a reunion. This is an infiltration."
Rias's gaze stayed on me. "If you care about her sister… you should understand Kuroka is dangerous."
I shrugged. "So am I."
A pause.
Then Rias said, carefully, "Your face…"
I felt the recognition trying to form in her mind, the way the Underworld's rumors had teeth. She'd heard stories. Everyone had. The demon at the battlefield. The throne of skulls. The face nobody forgot.
But my markings were hidden. My aura was quiet. She couldn't connect the myth to the boy standing in front of her.
Not yet.
"I'll make this simple," I said. "We're attending the school. We'll cause trouble because I'm bored. And Kuroka will see Koneko. That's all. If you interfere, I'll respond."
Sona's voice was cold. "We can expel you."
I laughed softly. "Try."
Rias lifted a hand slightly, a subtle gesture to her peerage to stand down—for now. She wasn't surrendering. She was deciding to delay a fight she didn't understand.
"Fine," she said. "But know this—if you harm my people—"
I cut her off with a smile. "If I wanted to harm your people, they'd already be dead."
That earned me a flash of pure anger in her eyes. Good.
Anger made people sloppy.
I turned away, and Kuroka followed, her steps light, her tail—now visible—flicking with satisfaction.
We walked past them like we owned the hall.
And in a way, we did.
We found the classroom with the help of a bored teacher and a stack of paperwork that no one questioned too hard. Kuoh Academy didn't ask the right questions. That was why it was a powder keg.
I sat near the window, staring out at the courtyard where students gathered before class, laughing under the sun.
Kuroka sat behind me, her posture too relaxed, too predatory to be a normal student. She didn't bother hiding her amusement.
"Nya… that was fun," she whispered.
"It was nothing," I said.
"You made queens freeze."
"They'll thaw."
Kuroka leaned forward, her breath warm near my ear. "And then?"
"Then we see what kind of fire they burn with," I murmured.
She hummed, pleased, and leaned back.
Class started.
It was unbearable.
The teacher wrote on the board, voice droning. Students took notes, faces half asleep. The air smelled like chalk and routine.
I could feel supernatural eyes outside the room—Rias's peerage watching, Sona's peerage watching. The invisible tension didn't go away. It just moved to the corners.
Kuroka scribbled in a notebook with no intention of learning anything. She drew little cats, then skulls, then a crude throne and a stick figure sitting on it with markings.
I smirked at that and looked away.
Halfway through class, the door slid open.
A boy with brown hair leaned in, looking like trouble and hormones wrapped in a school uniform.
Issei Hyoudou.
He was a magnet for chaos in his own way. Loud. Bold. Reckless. The kind of person who walked into destiny with no idea how badly it wanted to bite him.
His eyes scanned the room, then landed on me—then on Kuroka behind me.
His expression changed.
Confusion first. Recognition second—not personal recognition, but instinctual. A warning bell in his gut he didn't know how to interpret.
He walked in, ignoring the teacher's startled protest, and stopped beside my desk.
"Hey," he said, trying to sound tough and failing. "Who are you?"
I looked up at him slowly.
He held my gaze, jaw set, trying to be brave.
Behind that bravery, I could hear the dragon's presence. Not with ears. With something deeper.
Ddraig.
A massive consciousness curled inside Issei, watching through him, old and heavy.
The moment Issei stood close enough, Ddraig noticed me.
And the dragon's memory snapped like a chain pulled tight.
I felt it—an immediate surge of recognition from something ancient and violent. Not affection. Not respect.
Fear, wrapped in rage.
A mental image slammed into Issei's mind without warning.
A battlefield under a broken sky.
Bodies split like paper.
A throne of skulls.
A face with markings carved into it like a curse.
My face.
Issei flinched.
His pupils widened.
A cold sweat broke across his forehead.
I reached up casually and placed my hand on his shoulder.
The touch was light.
But it was enough.
Issei's world tilted.
In his mind, the room disappeared. The classroom walls peeled away into darkness. A presence rose behind him—me, but not the masked version. The real shape, the aura of cursed inevitability, the markings glowing like black fire.
Issei's breath hitched. His knees almost buckled.
And inside him, Ddraig spoke.
Not aloud.
A voice like an earthquake behind a locked door.
…That face.
Issei's lips trembled. "W-what…?"
I leaned in slightly, keeping my voice low, friendly enough to be insulting.
"You were going to threaten me," I said.
Issei swallowed hard.
I could feel his pride trying to fight his survival instincts. It was almost admirable.
Almost.
"You… you can't just come here," he managed, voice shaking. "This is… this is Rias's territory."
I smiled.
Then I pressed my grip just slightly on his shoulder—not crushing, not hurting. Just enough to let his body understand I could.
Issei stiffened.
His eyes darted briefly to Kuroka.
Kuroka smiled back, sweet as poison.
"I can come wherever I want," I said calmly. "And if you want to keep your friends alive, you'll stop trying to posture."
Issei's throat bobbed. "Who… who are you?"
I held his gaze.
I could give him the truth. I could watch his world crack under the weight of it.
But the truth was more fun when it arrived late.
"Sukuna," I said simply.
The name hit him harder than it should have.
Not because he knew it.
Because Ddraig did.
The dragon's presence recoiled, then coiled tighter, like an animal cornered by a predator it remembered losing to.
Issei's voice came out barely above a whisper. "Sukuna…"
I removed my hand.
Issei staggered back half a step, breathing like he'd just surfaced from deep water.
I looked at him once more, expression mild.
"Tell Rias," I said. "Tell Sona. Tell whoever you want. We're not here to start a war."
Kuroka's laugh was quiet behind me.
"But," I added, "if they try to take what's mine again… they'll get one."
Issei's jaw clenched.
He wanted to argue.
He wanted to be the hero.
But his fear was louder than his pride.
He turned and left the room, the teacher stammering uselessly as he slid the door shut.
The classroom's noise resumed like nothing happened.
Humans kept taking notes.
Chalk kept squeaking.
Routine kept pretending it was stronger than fate.
Kuroka leaned forward again, whispering in my ear, delighted. "Ddraig remembers you."
I stared out the window, watching the courtyard.
"Good," I murmured. "Let the dragon be afraid. It'll make everything more honest."
Kuroka's hand slid onto my shoulder, claws gentle, possessive. "What now, Sukuna-sama?"
I smiled, slow and sharp.
"Now," I said, "we wait for the powder keg to notice the match."
And somewhere in the building—quiet, tense, watching from behind the mask of a normal student—Koneko Toujou felt her sister's presence like a ghost at the edge of her soul.
The reunion was coming.
Whether anyone wanted it or not.
To be continued.