"Bro, we're still on for tonight, right? That 'Oppai Angels Season 2' premiere isn't gonna watch itself!" Matsuda waggled his eyebrows like a wannabe hentai connoisseur.
"Yeah, man," Issei chimed in. "I even borrowed my cousin's projector. We're going full IMAX boobage!"
I forced a grin that I hoped passed for excited perv and not existential dread. "Ah, sorry guys. Can't tonight."
They both froze.
Matsuda squinted. "Wait, are you—Motohama, backing out of a full-stack oppai marathon?"
I held up my phone like a shield. "My mom's making me do chores. You know how she gets."
Issei groaned in solidarity. "Man, strict moms are the ultimate enemy of the breast."
"She's got the eyes of a school principal and the aura of a final boss," I added, letting the lie flow naturally.
They laughed, the tension forgotten.
Good. Still in character.
We walked out the gates of Kuoh Academy together, the afternoon sun casting long shadows. As they broke off toward Matsuda's place, I turned the other way, toward my—Motohama's—home.
The apartment was small, tucked behind a convenience store and sandwiched between two laundromats. The outside was cracked brick and peeling paint, but it had a kind of… quiet honesty to it. This was not what I saw in anime, perhaps it's before the anime started and mom got some promotion or maybe a lottery. Only time gonna tell.
When I stepped in, I was hit by the smell of cleaning supplies and instant ramen. Shoes neatly lined up. Keys in the dish. Calendar on the fridge with three part-time jobs scribbled on it in red ink.
A tired voice called from the kitchen. "Motohama? That you, sweetie?"
"Yeah, it's me."
I kicked off my shoes, heart heavier than before. Her voice sounded like it was carrying a decade of stress in every word.
She poked her head out from the kitchen, her uniform from the local diner still on, dark circles under her eyes and hair pulled into a tired bun. "Dinner's in the fridge. I've got a double shift tomorrow so—"
"Why don't you take a break tonight?" I interrupted. "I'll make something."
She blinked. "You? Cooking?"
The look on her face said, Who are you and what have you done with my pervy son?
I scratched the back of my head and chuckled awkwardly. "I, uh… figured I should try helping out a bit. You do enough already."
She stared for a long second, then nodded slowly, her expression softening like melting butter. "Alright. Surprise me."
Turns out, Motohama's body wasn't great at sports, but he at least knew where the rice cooker was. I whipped up some tamagoyaki, miso soup, and grilled mackerel—simple stuff from muscle memory in my old life.
She took one bite, and her eyes widened like I'd just cast a spell.
"This is… really good."
I smiled. "Guess I had some hidden talents."
For a moment, she just looked at me. Not with suspicion, but with… something warmer. Proud. Grateful.
"I was worried about you," she said quietly. "With your father leaving and all, I know it's been hard. And with your… hobbies, I thought maybe you were just acting out."
Hobbies. Right.
I rubbed my neck. "I'm still me, Mom. Just… trying to be better."
She reached across the table and gave my hand a squeeze. "That means more than you know."
Later that night, I shut my door and collapsed onto my futon. The quiet hum of the old fan did little to drown out my swirling thoughts.
This world felt so real. The food, the people, the emotions. It wasn't a game. But...
[TUTORIAL MODE: INITIATED]Welcome, Host. You have successfully integrated:
Yami Yami no Mi
Gura Gura no Mi
Observation Haki (Basic)
Armament Haki (Basic)
Further growth requires physical and mental synchronization. Begin Training Mode?
I tapped the glowing interface floating in front of me. "Let's see what I'm working with."
The lights dimmed. A holographic version of myself appeared in a black void, surrounded by floating panels—stats, graphs, technique nodes. Like some kind of deep training chamber.
Training Session 001: "Power of Darkness"
"Alright, … Let's see what I got."
I focused.
A swirling, writhing black mass formed in my palm, dragging light inward like a vacuum. It pulsed, hungry.
YAMI YAMI NO MI – Darkness Manifestation: 3% ControlWarning: Darkness absorbs everything. Improper use may harm the user.
"Okay… start small."
I pointed my hand at the wastebasket. A tendril of darkness slithered out, wrapped around it, and sucked it into oblivion.
Gone. No impact. No sound. No trace.
"Damn."
I dismissed the darkness, sweat forming on my brow. That wasn't just power. That was terror made physical.
Next panel lit up.
Training Session 002: "Echoes of Destruction" – Gura Gura no Mi ActivationShockwave generation: 1% SyncCurrent Limit: Single-arm tapSuggested practice: Non-inhabited environments
I took a stance, arm cocked back.
One light tap forward.
CRACK.
The air bent, a ripple forming in front of my hand like shattered glass floating in place.
My window rattled. Books fell off the shelf. Somewhere downstairs, Mom cursed about an earthquake.
"Okay! Maybe not inside."
Note: Recommend developing Haki Mastery to stabilize powers.Observation Haki drill available.Would you like to proceed?
I smirked. "Bring it on."
Tonight, I wasn't Motohama the background character.
I was Motohama, wielder of the void and breaker of worlds. And no one—not Rias, not the Church, not even that damn Dragon Emperor—had a clue.
Not yet, anyway.