20 Days Left
The morning light spilled gently through the paper-screen windows of the Izumo Inn, casting a warm, golden glow across the wooden floors. The scent of freshly made rice and grilled fish lingered in the air—a signature of Miya's diligent morning cooking. Birds chirped softly outside, completing the peaceful serenity of the early hour.
Issei quietly slipped out of the futon, careful not to disturb the warm bodies beside him. Uzume was clinging to his arm with a content smile, and Yashima lay curled against his side, her soft breaths calm and steady.
'She's getting more comfortable.' Issei thought with a warm smile. 'That's good.'
But something tugged at the back of his mind. Matsu. She hadn't joined them like usual. Normally, she'd slip into Uzume's room in the dead of night to cuddle up with him and murmur strange technological things in her sleep. The lack of her presence was… unusual.
Adjusting the waistband of his sleeping pants and stifling a yawn, Issei made his way to the kitchen. He was hoping to snag something quick before his shift at the construction site. His stomach grumbled as he walked down the hall barefoot, the wooden floor cool beneath his steps.
As he rounded the corner into the kitchen, he found Matsu already sitting at the table, fully dressed in her usual pink cheongsam sipping tea. Her laptop was closed beside her—a rare sight as she usually stayed up until late night.
Issei blinked. "Morning… hey, where were you last night? You didn't sneak in like usual."
Matsu glanced up at him over her glasses, a teasing grin forming. "Oh, around~. I figured I'd give you and our newest bird some bonding time. Besides, sometimes I don't feel like sleeping in a pile, you know?"
Issei scratched his cheek, slightly sheepish. "Right. Yeah, thanks for that. Yashima is really coming out of her shell."
"She has." Matsu said softly, her teasing tone fading for a moment. "Thanks to you."
Issei blinked, caught off guard. "Me?"
Before Matsu could respond, footsteps approached.
And then—she entered. Miya.
Issei tensed the moment he saw her, the image of what happened yesterday flashing into his mind like lightning. The accidental fall. The awkward closeness. Her shaking body. Her voice telling him to leave.
Miya, too, froze upon seeing him, the color rushing into her cheeks so fast it nearly matched Ddraig's scales. She set the breakfast tray down with a little more force than necessary, her movements unusually stiff.
Neither of them said a word.
The air became stifling with awkward tension. Issei cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck. Miya glanced away, staring intensely at the rice bowl as if it personally offended her.
And then—
"Pfft—" Matsu tried and failed to hold back a snort. "Wow. You two look like you had the world's most awkward one-night stand."
"MATSU!" Miya's voice rang like a bell, full of fire and immediate embarrassment. Her hands shot up, steam practically rising from her head. "Don't say such ridiculous things!"
Issei choked on his own breath. "Wha—No! Nothing happened! I swear!"
Matsu raised both hands innocently, grinning like a fox. "Hey, hey, I didn't say something happened, just that it looked like something did. Relax, Miya~."
The tension snapped like a dry twig, laughter bubbling from Issei's throat despite himself. Even Miya let out a soft sigh, the corners of her lips twitching ever so slightly.
The two glanced at each other again. And this time, it wasn't awkward. It was just… quiet understanding.
Miya was the first to speak, her voice softer than usual. "About yesterday… you don't have to worry about it. It was just a moment and it had nothing to do with you."
Issei nodded slowly, watching her carefully. "I get it. And I won't push. It's your choice. I'd never want to force something on you."
Miya's shoulders relaxed slightly. "Thank you."
Their eyes met again, and for a moment, Issei thought he saw something flicker in her gaze. Regret? Longing? Maybe it was just relief.
Matsu sipped her tea with a smirk. "Well, that's mature. I'm proud of both of you."
"Shut it, Matsu," Miya muttered, though there was no real heat in her words.
Issei smiled, feeling the tightness in his chest begin to loosen. Things weren't perfect. But they were better.
"Alright." Issei said as he sat down to the table, grabbing a rice ball from the tray, "time for me to get some fuel in me before work."
Matsu, ever the opportunist, leaned in like a predator who had found her moment.
"Isseeeeii~," she cooed, sliding up behind him and wrapping her arms around his shoulders, resting her ample chest firmly against his back. "You work so hard lately. Isn't it time you got some proper motivation~?"
Issei froze. "…Matsu?"
Matsu's fingers playfully traced down his chest, her glasses glinting mischievously in the morning light. "You know~ physical and emotional rewards are scientifically proven to increase stamina and mental clarity~" She whispered into his ear.
Issei's brain went straight into emergency shutdown mode. 'Boobs. I feel boobs. On my back. They feel so nice!'
"U-Uhh, Matsu, I don't think this is—!"
Before he could fully protest, Matsu reached over with a pair of chopsticks, holding up a small piece of grilled fish. "Say 'ahh~' Issei-kun. Open wide for your lovely genius!"
"H-hey—" Issei said, embarrassed but happy.
"Ahh~!" Matsu was completely in her element. The woman practically radiated smug satisfaction as she prepared to feed him.
That was until—
CRACK.
A subtle sound. Wood straining under pressure.
Issei stiffened.
Matsu froze mid-"ahh~."
They both slowly turned toward the source of the sound… only to find Miya standing just a few feet away.
Her smile was polite. Her posture graceful. But her aura was absolutely terrifying. And in her delicate hands, she held the familiar, dreadful bokken—the wooden sword of doom.
"M-Miya-san…" Matsu laughed nervously, sweat forming along her brow. "Is something the matter? Surely there's nothing inappropriate about a little morning cuddling, right?"
Miya's eyes did not blink. Her voice was sugar-sweet. "Not at all. But I believe you'll find the dining area more enjoyable if you eat… separately."
The "or else" was left unspoken, but it hung in the air with the weight of a thousand unspoken threats.
Issei very slowly reached for his cup of juice and sipped it like his life depended on it. His face flushed from both embarrassment and fear. 'Why am I always stuck between joy and death?'
Matsu chuckled nervously, sliding back to her own seat with practiced ease, maintaining a wide smile the entire time. "Of course, of course! Personal space is important. I'm all about boundaries! Boundaries are sexy! Ahaha…"
Miya turned away, her elegant smile remaining, but her narrowed eyes never leaving Matsu's figure. The aura didn't fully recede either, settling into a simmer like a volcano waiting for the next idiot to provoke it.
With the tension slowly dispersing, Issei took the final bite of his rice ball and stood up, brushing crumbs from his pants. He quickly left to change and came back with his blue workshop uniform.
"Well… I better head to work," he muttered, eyes darting between the two women. "Wouldn't want to be late."
Matsu gave him a mock salute, still a bit pale from Miya's gaze. "Be safe, darling~! And don't strain your muscles too hard. I'll massage them later~!"
Miya didn't comment, but the bokken let out a faint creak in her grip.
With a deep, resigned breath, Issei made a break for the front door. Issei stepped into the wooden entryway of the inn, tightening his tool belt and preparing to leave for another long day of physical labor. His hair was still a bit messy, a small rice crumb clung to the corner of his mouth, and his shirt was hastily tucked in.
He reached for the door—
"Issei-kun."
He paused.
Miya stood there, graceful as ever, holding a neatly wrapped bento box between her hands.
Her expression was composed, but her eyes—those brown eyes—shone with something softer. "I made this for you," she said, extending the bento toward him. "You'd better eat it this time."
Issei blinked, caught off guard by the gesture. "O-Oh! Right! Thanks, Miya-san! I promise I'll eat it. I doubt they'll let me skip work again after yesterday…"
A faint twitch at the corner of Miya's lips hinted at amusement, but she said nothing about his previous work mishap.
He bowed lightly and turned back to the road.
"Wait."
Again he froze.
Miya's fingers gently brushed his sleeve, and she clicked her tongue disapprovingly. "Your shirt is wrinkled."
Issei looked down. "Huh? I'm sure it's not that important."
She didn't let him finish. With deft, practiced hands, she stepped close and began tugging and smoothing his collar and sleeves, adjusting the hem of his shirt. Her fingers brushed his chest for the briefest second, and both of them tensed at the contact.
Miya's breath caught in her throat.
Issei stared down at her, unsure what to do. The closeness, the gentle attention—it reminded him of Tamamo fixing his uniform for a day of school…It just needed a kiss for luck to finish the image. He noticed how the faint blush on her cheeks deepened.
Their eyes met.
For a moment, time seemed to slow. There was a hum in the air, a subtle spark that danced between them like the flicker of static.
Issei opened his mouth to speak, but Miya quickly looked away, her expression reverting to calm, though her ears were visibly red.
"There. Now you don't look like a disheveled mess." She said with a sharp tone, stepping back.
"Thanks, Miya-san," he said, smiling sheepishly, scratching the back of his head. "You really didn't have to—"
"It's fine," she interrupted quickly. "Now go or you'll be late."
Issei nodded, tightening his grip on the bento box. He was just about to take a step when he caught sight of something out of the corner of his eye.
Matsu. Leaning against the doorframe to the dining area, arms crossed, glasses glinting, and a grin so smug it could power Tokyo tower.
"Oh my~," she sang. "Did I just witness the noble landlady smoothing out her guest's clothes? You sure you're not secretly auditioning for the position of wife, Miya?"
Miya's head whipped toward her.
"Matsu."
"Yes~?"
"Shut it."
Matsu raised both eyebrows and put her hands up in mock surrender. "Hey, I'm just an observer. No need to—eep!"
The bokken appeared in Miya's hand as if summoned by divine wrath.
But rather than launching into a chase, Miya merely turned her back to Issei, her voice tight. "It's not like that. It's… just his presence and power. That's all. It's affecting me. Nothing more."
Before he could ask, Miya glanced at him once more over her shoulder—her gaze gentle, guarded.
"Have a good day, Issei-kun."
"I will." He said softly, continuing his walk to work in the brisk air, warmth blooming in his chest despite the cool wind.
As the door slid shut behind him, Miya stood frozen for a moment, fingers brushing the spot where she had adjusted his shirt, a complicated storm swirling in her heart.
And Matsu… well, Matsu was already opening her laptop, gleefully taking notes.
"Interesting." She whispered. "Very interesting.
—--------------------------------
The passing of five days brought a rhythm to life at the Izumo Inn—predictable, yet far from dull.
Each morning, Issei would rise before the others, quietly slipping out of the pile that had become his usual sleeping arrangement. On either side of him, Uzume and Yashima would still be asleep, the former draped over his chest like a clingy octopus while the latter curled up gently at his side, her breathing calm and peaceful. Matsu, as usual, was never far—sometimes laying across his legs, sometimes lounging beside Uzume, always with a mischievous smile as she slept.
The moment Issei stepped outside, the warm scent of breakfast would greet him, and soon after, Miya's quiet, composed presence would follow. She always handed him his bento without a word, her eyes averting his, her cheeks dusted with pink. Issei would thank her with a smile, pretending not to notice the way her hands lingered a moment too long when they passed the box between them.
Then it was off to the construction site, where he spent his days working hard—using the physical exertion to keep himself distracted from the complicated emotional chaos waiting for him back at the inn.
Nights were for training. In the quiet clearing in the garden of the inn, Issei would train his body and soul, sweat pouring down his face as he pushed himself harder under the tutelage of Ddraig and guidance from Sherri. Ki and magic, stamina and strength. Every night he felt himself improve, slowly but surely.
Back at the inn, the atmosphere was growing more complicated by the day.
Yashima, now settled into her new home, was blossoming. She smiled more, joined the others for meals, and no longer flinched every time someone raised their voice. Issei's patience and kindness were clearly having a deep effect on her.
But the real chaos began whenever Matsu or Uzume decided it was their time to flirt with Issei. Unfortunately Miya usually spots the two whenever they try something.
"Issei~ come sit with me, I've got something fun to show you~!" Matsu would purr, tugging on his arm and guiding him toward her laptop with a suspiciously cozy pillow already waiting.
Or—
"Hey, hubby, come here," Uzume would smirk, pulling him into a side hug and nuzzling into his neck. "Your shoulder makes a great pillow, you know?"
Each time, the teasing laughter and giggles would last only a few seconds before—
CRACK.
A sudden shift in the air. A visible twitch in the space.
An overpowered aura would come out. Everyone would freeze.
Matsu's voice would drop to a fearful whisper. "S-she's here…"
Uzume would pale. "Oh gods. She's looking…"
Standing in the doorway, Miya would gaze upon them with her usual serene smile. But her eyes… her eyes burned with an unspoken fury. She never said anything. She didn't have to. The bokken in her hand spoke volumes.
The two older Sekirei would break away from Issei in an instant, scampering off with excuses about "needing fresh air" or "remembering an urgent experiment."
Issei, of course, was left scratching his head, awkward and confused.
Whenever Issei was alone with Miya, something hung in the air between them became tense.
Miya would busy herself with chores or tea, pretending she didn't notice his presence. But every now and then, their eyes would meet. And every time they did, Miya would look away, her hands trembling slightly, her breath catching for a fraction of a second.
Issei noticed.
He wasn't dumb. Well, maybe a little. But not about this.
He saw the way her body tensed when he was close, the way her fingers sometimes brushed her lips unconsciously. He could feel the strange pull between them—like something wanted to snap into place, but couldn't.
Miya was struggling.
Her instincts screamed at her to move forward, to answer the pull that connected her to this boy. His presence alone made her heart tremble. Because part of her, buried deep under the grief and guilt, longed for something she never thought she'd feel again.
But every time she even thought of crossing that line, her mind would echo one name—
'Takehito.'
Her husband. Her beloved. Her anchor.
She had already buried one love. How could she let herself feel again? Wouldn't that be a betrayal?
But the warmth in Issei's smile, the way he always treated her with respect, never pushed, never demanded—those things made her heart ache in a different way.
One evening, while setting the table, her hands stopped mid-motion as she stared at the rice bowl she was preparing.
"Takehito…" She whispered. "What would you say… if I said I was afraid to move on?"
The bowl remained silent.
Just like it always did.
—----------------------------
15 days left
Issei and Uzume strolled side by side down the familiar streets. The faint clang of hammers and distant shouting from the construction site slowly faded behind them, replaced by the gentle rustling of trees and the quiet hum of city life winding down for the evening.
Issei's work uniform was a little dusty and his shoulders drooped with the fatigue of a long day. But there was a soft smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Walking beside Uzume had a strange way of making everything feel lighter. Maybe it was her easygoing nature—or maybe it was how natural it felt to walk with someone by his side.
Uzume had her hands behind her head, her eyes flicking occasionally toward him with a knowing smirk. "You're getting better." She said, breaking the silence. "That foreman guy didn't even yell at you today."
Issei chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. "Yeah, well, I finally figured out how not to mess up the cement mix."
Uzume giggled. "Proud of you, hubby."
Issei grinned at her praise.
Her expression shifted to something a little more thoughtful as they walked past a vending machine. The soft whir of it dispensing a bottle of soda filled the pause between them.
"I've been meaning to ask you something." She said, handing him the drink.
He took it with a grateful nod. "What's up?"
Uzume's eyes narrowed slightly. "It's about Miya."
That got his attention. His hand paused mid-twist on the bottle cap. "…Miya?"
"Yeah." Uzume glanced ahead, her tone suddenly a touch more serious. "At first I thought she was just being her usual scary, prudish self. You know, waving her bokken around every time Matsu or I got a little flirty." She flashed him a playful grin. "Which, let's be honest, is all the time."
Issei coughed. "You're not wrong."
"But lately…" Uzume trailed off, her brows furrowing slightly. "She's been different. Staring. Getting… flustered. More than usual. I caught her watching you the other day. Not in a creepy way." She added quickly, "but… lingering. Like she was trying to figure you out."
Issei slowed his steps slightly, his hand tightening around the bottle.
"I know that look." Uzume said, her voice low. "It's the same way Matsu and Yashima always looked."
The air grew still for a moment, the hum of cicadas becoming louder around them.
"…Uzume," Issei began, his voice hesitant. "Miya has been reacting to me as her Ashikabi."
Uzume stopped dead in her tracks. "Wait, seriously?"
He nodded, looking away. "I kind of… fell on her. When she chased me after finding us in the bath together. A few days ago. And ever since then, things have been… weird. She's been distant. Shaky. She once told me not to touch her. Said she didn't want to be winged."
Uzume blinked, processing that. "Damn… so that's what's going on."
"Yeah," Issei said softly. "She's still grieving, I think. For her husband. And I get it. The last thing she wants is to feel like she's betraying his memory."
Uzume crossed her arms, looking down the road toward the distant buildings. "That explains the death stares," she muttered.
"Death stares?"
"Every time I cuddle up to you, she looks like she wants to carve my name into a gravestone." She smirked. "Jealousy's an ugly thing, huh?"
Issei didn't respond right away. He stared down at the bottle in his hand, his reflection warped in the plastic. "I don't want to make things harder for her. I didn't mean to mess things up."
Uzume's hand suddenly reached out and squeezed his. "Hey," she said gently. "You didn't do anything wrong. She's just confused and scared."
Issei looked up at her, surprised by the seriousness in her tone.
"She's strong, Issei," Uzume continued. "Maybe the strongest out of all of us. But even strong people break a little when they think they've lost everything they ever cared about. And if you—if we—can help her heal even a little… then I say she deserves that chance."
Issei felt the weight of her words settle in his chest.
"Thanks, Uzume," he said quietly. "That… means a lot."
She smiled, a real, warm smile. "Of course. We're a team now, remember? All of us."
As they continued walking, Issei squeezed her hand back and gave a sheepish grin."…Still gonna be scary if she ever does get winged though."
Uzume leaned into his arm, her tone teasing but light. "If you do wing Miya, you'll have the scariest girlfriend in all of Japan."
Issei chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, and the highest chance of dying from just a glare."
The sounds of the city had quieted, leaving only the rhythmic crunch of their steps against the road and the occasional whisper of the evening breeze.
But peace, as always in Issei's life, was short-lived, as two figures stepped into their path.
One of them was a pale, almost sickly-looking young man with short white hair and a narrow, sharp-eyed glare. His posture radiated hostility like a dog ready to snap at anything that moved. Next to him stood a tall girl in a black dress with long black hair, her smirk twisted with smug satisfaction as if this was the moment she'd been waiting for all day.
"Finally found you." The girl said, voice ringing with challenge. "Another pair."
Uzume immediately tensed beside him, her posture shifting subtly as she stepped forward. Issei narrowed his eyes.
The black-haired girl continued, her words laced with condescension. "My name is Yashiro Itsuki. And this is Sekirei Number 13—Amebane. We've been looking for a proper match. A chance to test Amebane's power on someone weak. Perfect for warm-up!"
Issei's brows furrowed. "You want to pick a fight just because we're out walking?"
Itsuki snorted. "Tch. Are you kidding? You're an Ashikabi, and she's a Sekirei. This is the Sekirei Plan, idiot. We're supposed to fight. You're lucky I'm in a generous mood—once my Sekirei wipes the floor with that girl of yours, maybe I'll let you crawl away."
Amebane's eyes lit up with a savage gleam as he stepped forward. "So, this is what passes for an opponent? A weak-ass woman with big tits and some scrawny human brat?"
Uzume's eye twitched, and Issei's fists clenched at his sides. "Excuse me?" Uzume said, her tone dipping dangerously low.
"I've been waiting for a fight all damn week," Amebane spat, cracking his knuckles. "Didn't think I'd be wasting it on a woman—but hey, I'll take what I can get. Come on, sweetheart, scream for me."
The words weren't just vulgar—they were dripping with hate, disdain and bloodlust. And they slammed into Issei like a freight train.
Amebane, driven by his thirst for violence, lunged forward with frightening speed—focused entirely on Uzume. That was his mistake as he focused too much on the other Sekirei.
Because Issei moved. He didn't think—he acted. His fist shot out, powered by both instinct and a flash of reinforcement magic, and connected squarely with Amebane's jaw.
CRACK!
The impact sent the white-haired boy stumbling backward several feet, clutching his face in disbelief. The street echoed with the raw sound of contact and the silence that followed was deafening.
"Wha… What the hell?" Amebane growled, black eyes wide. "You… punched me?"
Yashiro's calm mask cracked, eyes narrowing with disbelief. "A Ashikabi… hit a Sekirei?"
Issei stood tall, arm still extended from the punch, his heart racing. "Yeah. And I'll do it again if you come at her like that."
Amebane snarled. "You fucking pathetic human!" He lunged again, this time straight at Issei, rage replacing arrogance.
But a flash of movement interrupted his trajectory. A strip of white cloth—Uzume's veil which extended—snaked through the air and caught his wrist mid-swing, halting him with a sudden jerk. Uzume stepped forward, her eyes sharp and unwavering.
"Don't think I'll let you touch my Ashikabi, jackass."
"LET—GO—!" Amebane roared, his muscles straining against the cloth. "You think I care about a filthy whore like you—?!"
WHAM!
Issei's fist crashed into his gut—this time Reinforced even stronger. The blow knocked the wind out of Amebane's lungs as he folded forward with a gasping wheeze.
"Keep your damn mouth shut." Issei growled, his voice low and dangerous. "You're not fighting just any woman. You're trying to hurt someone I care about. I'm not letting that slide."
Amebane stumbled back, coughing violently, his aura flaring with fury.
"That's it!" he howled. "I'll kill you both!"
His aura surged, his body glowing with energy as he prepared to unleash his next strike—eyes wild with rage, lips curled in a manic snarl.
Issei moved like a blur beside Uzume, weaving in and out of Amebane's attacks, slipping just outside the range of each brutal strike. Amebane's body ached from each dodge, the memory of the last punch still stinging in his bones. But he wasn't going down. Not tonight.
Every time Amebane turned to swing at Uzume, Issei intercepted with a reinforced punch to the gut, shoulder, or head and every time he went for Issei, Uzume's cloths caught him mid-motion and slammed him to the side like a rag doll.
"Damn it!" Amebane snarled, his voice cracked from effort, "Just die already!"
"Sorry," Issei grinned, flicking his wrist, magic still humming in his veins, "not on the schedule."
"Are we really doing this?" Uzume asked mid-swing, grinning as she yanked a length of cloth to trip Amebane mid-charge. "Because I think we've officially reached 'pathetic' territory."
"SHUT UP!" Amebane roared as he got up.
"You've got one chance to walk away," She said to Amebane. "I don't like hitting people, even if they're assholes."
"SHUT UP AND DIE!" The street cracked beneath Amebane's boots as he lunged forward again, his white hair a blur under the dim evening light. His movements were aggressive, wild—but also desperate.
Uzume met him head-on, intercepting his fist with her cloth mid-swing, redirecting it away from Issei with practiced grace.
"Tch—damn you!" Amebane snarled, jerking back only to twist and go for Uzume again.
But Issei was already there.
"Not so fast." He muttered, stepping in and grabbing Amebane's wrist mid-attack. With a grunt of effort, he spun on his heel and flung him back several feet and then smack by the white cloth.
WHAM!
Amebane slammed into a lamppost and rebounded, staggering. His black eyes burned with humiliation and fury.
"They're tag-teaming me?! You cowards!"
Uzume rolled her eyes. "Oh, please. It's called strategy. You wouldn't last five seconds if you weren't such a rabid dog."
"You'll pay for this!" he shouted. "Both of you!"
He whirled around toward his Ashikabi, Itsuki, who was standing nearby with an unnerving grin on her face.
"You! This is your fault, you pathetic woman! Do something useful!"
Then, to Issei's shock, he grabbed the girl roughly by the collar and yanked her forward. Itsuki didn't flinch. In fact… she looked thrilled.
"Finally~!" she moaned. "Rough me up more, my precious Sekirei! Break me if you have to!"
Issei blinked. "...What the actual hell?"
Uzume's expression was frozen in open disgust. "...They're freaks."
Issei glanced between the two, caught between horror and confusion. "Is that normal?"
"No," Uzume deadpanned. "Absolutely not."
Before either of them could comment further, the pair's lips locked in a disturbingly eager, violent kiss. A pulse of energy erupted from the contact, black wings flaring out from Amebane's back in jagged arcs of light.
A low hum of power vibrated through the air.
Issei stepped back. "What… the hell is that?"
Uzume narrowed her eyes. "Crap. I forgot we never explained that."
"Explained what?!"
"Norito." she said quickly. "A Sekirei's full power. When they kiss their Ashikabi mid-fight, they unlock a temporary boost. It's not something you want to deal with unprepared."
Issei's eyes widened. "Oh, so he's getting a power up with a kiss. Great."
Amebane stood straighter, his aura now twisted and vicious. He raised his fists, pulsing with dark energy as hs wings grew out of his back, and roared:
"These are the palms of my pledge. By my bare hands, destroy the foes of my Ashikabi!"
Issei gritted his teeth. "Well that's just perfect."
Uzume turned to him, serious. "Issei."
He met her gaze. She leaned forward, cupping his cheek.
"I'm not letting this bastard win."
And then she kissed him.
It wasn't soft or shy. It was full of heat and fire and determination. A pulse of white light exploded from her back—angelic wings of swirling cloth bursting into the air, glowing with radiant energy.
Issei staggered, blinking. "Whoa."
Uzume stood proudly, her eyes sharper than before. "My turn."
She raised both arms, the veil of her cloth surrounding them like a fortress. Amebane charged, screaming incoherently, his fists pounding against the shielded barrier again and again.
Her Norito echoed like a chant:
"By the veil of my contract, My Ashikabi's nightmares will be dispelled."
A sphere of swirling cloth formed around them—a fortress of fabric, hard as steel. Amebane, now glowing with a chaotic dark aura and his own ragged black wings, smashed into it with reckless fury. The cloth glowed brighter, hardening with every impact, refusing to break.
Issei narrowed his eyes behind her. He clenched his fist, with the crimson glow of the Boosted Gear summoned.
Boost!
His voice was low. "Uzume. On my mark, drop the shield."
"Understood."
Issei closed his eyes for a brief moment, focusing. Magic and Ki swirled inside him, condensing in his arm. He layered a reinforcement spell atop his strength, winding it tighter.
Boost!
"NOW!"
Uzume's cloth flared once more before splitting apart like parting curtains. The moment the path cleared, Issei launched forward like a cannonball, the red glow of the Boosted Gear blazing across his arm.
Amebane was just about to smash the barrier, turned just in time to see it.
"Wha—?!"
Issei's fist slammed into his gut, the combined might of his boosted strength, reinforced magic, and sheer anger packed into one devastating punch.
BOOOOOOM!
The street cracked beneath the force. Amebane's eyes rolled back, and he flew backwards like a missile, crashing into a wall and collapsing into an unconscious heap.
The red gauntlet on Issei's arm faded away with a flicker, vanishing like a whisper.
Issei looked down at his hand, then at her. "Guess we make a pretty good team."
She grabbed his hand and squeezed it. "Yeah. We do."
The dust began to settle. Amebane's body lay crumpled and unconscious against the cracked wall of the alley. The once ferocious and arrogant Sekirei was now broken and still—beaten down by sheer coordination and strength he never expected from a so-called "worthless Ashikabi."
A desperate cry rang out through the alley.
"Amebane!!"
Itsuki's voice cracked with emotion as she ran past the cratered ground toward her fallen partner. Her hands trembled as she kneeled beside him, cradling his bruised face in her lap. Her eyes brimmed with tears, not of fear, but of worry. She ran her fingers gently through his damp white hair, her expression soft and vulnerable.
Issei lowered his raised arm, the magic fading from his fingers. He stared at the scene in front of him. For all the cruelty Amebane had shown—his mocking words, his joy for violence, the way he treated Itsuki like nothing more than an accessory. Itsuki still cared for him.
Uzume took a cautious step forward, her veil beginning to stir again. "Let me finish it, and deactivate him" she said coldly. "They attacked first. We were just defending ourselves—"
"Uzume," Issei said, his voice low but firm.
She stopped, blinking. "What?"
He walked forward, placing a hand gently on her shoulder. "If you promise." He said, locking eyes on Itsuki. "Never to come after us again… we'll let this go. Take him. Leave. We don't want to fight weaklings."
Uzume stared at him like he'd grown a second head. "Seriously? After all that? You're just going to let them walk away?"
Issei didn't take his eyes off Itsuki. "Uzume… there's no point in stomping on someone who's already lost."
Inside, Issei knew the truth. He just didn't want to kill Amebane. Even if the guy was a complete asshole, taking his life or destroying the bond with his Ashikabi—especially in front of someone who cared so deeply—it just wasn't right. Issei wasn't a killer. And deep down, he hoped that maybe this beatdown would change something in the white-haired Sekirei.
Itsuki stared at him, stunned, her arms trembling as she hugged Amebane's unconscious form tighter to her chest. Her lips trembled. "Y-You'll really let us go?"
Issei gave a tired sigh, lowering his arm. "We're not interested in being dragged into fights just to prove a point. But if you ever threaten my Sekirei again… we won't be so merciful next time."
A soft breath escaped her lips. She nodded, slowly. "I understand."
With surprising strength, she lifted Amebane over her shoulder. His body slumped like a ragdoll, unconscious but breathing steadily.
"I promise," she said. "We won't bother you again."
She turned and began to limp away, the weight of her promise heavy in every step. As she vanished around the corner, the tension finally ebbed from the air.
Issei exhaled a long breath and let his shoulders sag.
"…That could've gone worse," he muttered.
Uzume, standing beside him, gave a sideways glance. "You sure about that? That guy looked like he wanted to kill us."
Issei smirked weakly. "Yeah. But he's not the first. And definitely won't be the last."
Uzume crossed her arms, giving Issei a side-eye. "You're too soft sometimes, you know that?"
He gave her a tired smile. "Maybe. But I'd rather be soft than heartless."
She huffed, but there was no real irritation in her voice. "Whatever, hero-boy."
As they turned to walk back to the inn, Issei looked up at the sky, stars just beginning to twinkle through the darkening dusk.
'If I have to fight, I'll fight. I just don't want to lose myself in the process.'
Beside him, Uzume reached out and gently took his hand.
No words needed. Just quiet understanding.
And Issei, exhausted, and slightly embarrassed—smiled.
"Let's go home."