The door clicked shut, and I was alone again, the silence in the room pressing down on me.
I sank back into the bed, letting the soft silk sheets cradle me as I tried to gather my thoughts. The weight of the situation was getting heavier, and with every passing minute, I could feel the disconnect between the life I had known and this new existence growing larger.
Tatsuya's memories were so vivid. He had lived a life of privilege, but it wasn't just that—there was something else, something more. The Mishima Corporation. My family's legacy. But it wasn't the wealth or power that made me shiver; it was the undercurrent of secrecy in everything. Strange occurrences. Otherworldly figures. Words and names I didn't fully understand yet, floating around in the back of my mind like whispers in the dark.
I had to get a better grasp of this world.
And then my eyes fell on the papers that had been left behind by my mother—some were about business, some about school. The normal responsibilities of a young heir.
But then, a specific line caught my eye:
Kuoh Academy: Official Registration Confirmed.
My heart skipped a beat. I'd seen that name before. Kuoh Academy.
I froze. Wait a second. Kuoh? Kuoh Academy? That was the name. That was the big one.
For a moment, everything went quiet. My breath hitched. That name… why did it sound so familiar?
And then it hit me like a truck. Kuoh Academy. The name that made my past-life memories explode into chaos.
Why didn't I realize this sooner? Kuoh Academy! The school from my memories. The one with… the Oppai Dragon. No, not just that—there were also fallen angels, devils, dragons, and gods walking around like they owned the place! It was a supernatural hotspot, the epicenter of all the weird stuff I'd been hearing about for years. The place where the actual events of the High School DxD world unfolded. Oh. Oh no.
I could almost see the bits and pieces of Tatsuya's memories flashing in front of me—a super-powered devil sitting in a classroom, a guy who called himself "Issei Hyoudou" (definitely not a guy you'd want to mess with, based on the smirk he had), and Rias Gremory with her red hair and… well… her chest. That was kind of important too, right?
This was the place where everything crazy went down, and now, I was supposed to go to school there?
I groaned and rubbed my face. "Okay, okay, calm down. I am a normal kid. A normal, totally-not-worried-about-being-in-the-middle-of-a-war-between-angels-and-demons kid. It's fine."
Except it wasn't fine. Not even close.
My mind started spiraling. Wait, so, what do I even wear to a school full of supernatural creatures? Is there a uniform or do I just show up in some overpriced suit and try not to get obliterated by a dragon? What if I end up sitting next to some devil chick who wants to use my soul as a snack or a fallen angel who's more into causing drama than giving me answers?
And the Oppai Dragon. Don't even get me started on that. The absolute chaos that man brings to a school full of monsters.
"...Oh, god." I buried my face in my hands. "I'm going to die, aren't I?"
And then, like a light bulb flicking on in the middle of a panic attack, I remembered it. My ability.
The Celestial Workshop.
My heart skipped a beat. I almost forgot. This—this was the one thing I had going for me. My creativity, the workshop that would let me make anything, from basic tools to magical creations. I might not know the limits yet, but it was something—something that could give me a fighting chance in this new, crazy world.
And now, I was a part of that world.
In my previous life, I'd barely had enough to get by—working a part-time job in a hardware store, dreaming of things I'd never had. Now? Now, I was at the center of a world where gods and demons fought, where dragons could exist, and where even angels had their own agendas. My fate wasn't just tied to the Mishima Corporation—it was tied to the supernatural balance of the world itself. And I had no idea if I was ready for it.
As if on cue, there was a knock at the door, pulling me out of my spiraling thoughts. My heart was still racing.
"Master Tatsuya?" Hayama's voice filtered through the door, calm and polite. "May I come in?"
"Uh… yeah, come in," I muttered, trying to calm myself.
The door creaked open, and Hayama entered, his silver hair gleaming in the soft light, the impeccably neat suit he wore only furthering the aura of his professionalism.
"Young master, I've been informed that your health has stabilized," he began, his voice smooth as always. "I've also received instructions from your parents regarding the next steps. They're eager to have you back to your studies."
"Right," I said, my voice barely a whisper. The world outside still felt like it was spinning too fast. "I'll need to go back to school, huh?"
He nodded. "Yes. The sooner you're back to your education, the better. Your tutors have been prepared, and your schedule is already arranged."
"Tutors?"
"Yes, young master. Advanced lessons on your studies, social responsibilities, and other matters of importance." Hayama paused, his gaze flickering slightly. "Your parents are very invested in your future—both your role in the Mishima Corporation and your place within society."
"Right…" I breathed out.
I barely processed what he'd said. It was hard to focus with everything that had been happening. The supernatural world, the Mishima legacy, and now—school. The next steps in a world that felt more like a ticking time bomb.
I nodded, trying to keep my thoughts from spiraling again.
After Hayama left, I sat there, feeling the weight of everything pressing down on me. I needed to do something, anything, to feel like I had control over the situation.
I closed my eyes again, focusing. My hands twitched. The Celestial Workshop flickered back into existence in my mind.
I pictured a knife. Nothing fancy.
The design formed instantly—clean lines, balanced weight, a grip that fit like it was made for me. Steel and leather appeared on the table. My hands moved on instinct, assembling it in seconds.
Then the pull—like a breath being drawn deep into my chest.
Manifest.
I opened my eyes.
It was in my hand.
A simple, perfect knife.
I turned it over in my palm, testing the grip. It felt right. Solid.
And just like that, something in my chest loosened.
I let out a quiet breath and sank back against the bed, the knife resting across my stomach.
The world might come at me swinging.
But now, at least, I wasn't empty-handed.