[Katsuya Akiya (MC) POV]
The evening sun painted Tokyo's streets in shades of orange and gold as I walked beside Hayata, our shoes scuffing against the pavement in an easy rhythm. My pompadour—which I spent way too much time on this morning—caught the light, and I couldn't help feeling pretty satisfied with how it turned out today.
"Katsuya-senpai, do you really have to skip class so much?" Hayata's voice was quiet, almost disappearing into the ambient noise of the city. His black hair fell over his eyes as he looked down at his feet.
I shrugged. "Sometimes. Gets boring, you know?"
It had been pure coincidence that I'd spotted those delinquents cornering him behind the gym three months ago. I was cutting through the middle school grounds on my way to the convenience store when I heard the commotion. The guys were older middle schoolers, probably thinking they were hot stuff picking on a scrawny first-year.
I didn't really think about it. Just walked over and told them to knock it off.
They didn't knock it off.
So I knocked them down instead.
Nothing crazy—just enough to make them rethink their life choices. My knuckles were sore for a couple days after, but whatever. The look on Hayata's face when I asked if he was okay made it worth it. Like I'd just saved the world or something instead of just breaking up a stupid fight.
Since then, he'd kind of... stuck to me. Like a lost puppy, but in a way that didn't really bother me. He was a good kid. Quiet. Didn't ask for much.
"There's a new manga volume out," I said, changing the subject. "The one with the samurai guy. Want to check it out?"
Hayata's face lit up a bit. "Really? You'd go with me?"
"Yeah, why not? Got nothing better to do."
We walked to the bookstore, and Hayata practically vibrated with excitement as we browsed the shelves. It was funny watching someone get so worked up over drawings and speech bubbles, but I got it. Everyone had their thing. Mine was probably my hair, which was ridiculous when I thought about it, but whatever.
"Katsuya-senpai, thank you," Hayata said suddenly as we left the store, a plastic bag dangling from his hand.
"For what?"
"For... everything. For being my friend."
I felt my face get warm. "Don't be weird about it. We just looked at manga."
"No, I mean..." He trailed off, then smiled. It was small but genuine. "Never mind. Thank you anyway."
The weeks blurred together after that. School, hanging out with Hayata, occasionally dealing with idiots who thought they were tough. My mom worked late most nights at the restaurant, so I had the apartment to myself usually. It was fine. Quiet. Normal.
Hayata started coming over sometimes. We'd watch TV or play video games, and he'd always leave before it got too late, bowing politely and thanking me way too many times. His parents seemed strict, but he never complained about them.
"Katsuya-senpai, are you going to university?" he asked one day while we were at the arcade.
"Probably not," I said, focused on the fighting game screen. "Not really my thing."
"What will you do then?"
"I don't know. Work, I guess. Figure it out as I go."
He went quiet for a moment. "I think you'd be good at a lot of things."
"You're just saying that because I saved your butt."
"No, I mean it." His voice was firm in a way it usually wasn't. "You're strong and kind. That's rare."
I lost the match because I got distracted by what he said. "You're too nice, Hayata."
"And you're not nice enough to yourself, senpai."
👌
———
The months turned into years without me really noticing. I graduated high school without much fanfare—my pompadour was still going strong, which was the real achievement in my opinion. My mom started seeing someone new, a guy from America who'd moved to Japan for work. He was okay. Tall, spoke broken Japanese, laughed at his own jokes. His name was Marcus.
"Katsuya, come meet Marcus properly," my mom said one evening, practically glowing with happiness I hadn't seen in years.
I sat across from him at our small dining table, and he extended his hand. "Good to meet you, Katsuya. Your mother talks about you all the time."
His grip was firm but not aggressive. And was rather solid and comforting.
"Nice to meet you too," I said.
Things changed after that, but gradually. Marcus was around more. He tried to bond with me over sports—I wasn't really into sports—but I appreciated the effort. My mom seemed happier than she'd been since my biological father left. That was worth dealing with awkward small talk about baseball.
Then Marcus proposed. My mom cried. I told her congratulations and meant it.
"We're thinking of visiting my family in America," Marcus said to me one evening. "Would you want to come? See a different part of the world?"
"America?" I'd never really thought about leaving Japan.
"Just for a few months. My parents want to meet you both. And who knows? Might be good for you. Fresh start, new experiences."
I thought about it. There wasn't much keeping me here besides Hayata, and he was busy with high school entrance exams anyway. We'd been seeing each other less as he got busier and I started working part-time at a café to help with bills.
"Sure," I said. "Why not?"
Hayata took the news quietly when I told him. We were at our usual spot by the river, watching the water flow past.
"America is far," he said.
"Yeah. But it's not forever. Just a visit."
"Will you come back?"
"Of course. Where else would I go?"
He nodded but didn't look convinced. "Promise you'll email me?"
"I promise."
We sat in silence for a while, and I realized I'd miss this. Miss him. But I didn't know how to say that without it sounding weird, so I just bumped my shoulder against his.
"You'll be fine without me," I said. "You're tougher than you think."
"Only because you taught me to be."
"Nah. You always had it in you."
———
The move to America was surreal. Everything was bigger, louder, stranger. Marcus's family was nice but overwhelming with their enthusiasm and questions. I kept my pompadour at first, but people stared at it so much I eventually gave it up. It felt weird, like losing part of my identity, but also kind of freeing. Maybe it was time to grow up a bit.
I got a job at a café in the neighborhood, serving coffee and pastries to people who barely looked at me. It was fine. The work was easy, the pay was okay, and it kept me busy while my mom and Marcus settled into married life.
Years passed. I turned twenty. The pompadour was a distant memory, my hair now just normal and short. I kept in touch with Hayata through emails and calling. He was thriving in high school, had joined a club, even made some friends. I felt proud in a weird big-brother sort of way.
"You should visit," he said during one call, his face pixelated on my laptop screen.
"Maybe next year," I said. "Saving up money."
"I miss you, Katsuya-senpai."
"Miss you too, Hayata."
(Author: do I make hayata either A: muscular dominant tomboy or B a curvy goth baddie...yes I will include hayata into the story but maybe not till like next year of beacon...or do I just not add hayata?)
———
The day it happened started like any other. I woke up, got ready for my shift at the café, and headed out into the cool evening air. The sun was setting, casting long shadows across the street. I took my usual route, passing by the construction site that had been an eyesore for months. They were supposed to be building some new office complex, but progress was slow.
I was thinking about nothing in particular—maybe what I'd eat for dinner, or whether I should finally buy that new game Hayata had recommended—when I heard it.
A groaning sound. Metal twisting. Concrete cracking.
I looked up just in time to see the building collapse.
There was no time to run. No time to scream. Just a split second of realization that this was it, and then—
Nothing.
———
Except it wasn't nothing.
I opened my eyes—or I thought I did; it was hard to tell—and found myself floating in darkness. Not the scary kind of darkness, just... empty. Like being in a room with the lights off, except there was no room.
"What the hell?" My voice echoed, or maybe it didn't. Everything felt wrong and right at the same time.
Then, light.
Two wheels materialized in front of me, spinning slowly. They were huge, easily the size of cars, covered in symbols and words I couldn't quite read. One wheel glowed golden, the other silver. They hummed with energy, and I felt drawn to them despite having no idea what they were.
"Welcome, Katsuya Akiya," a voice said. It came from everywhere and nowhere, neither male nor female, neither young nor old.
"Who's there?" I tried to look around, but there was nothing to see except the wheels.
"You have died."
Well, that was blunt. "Yeah, I kind of figured that out."
"You are being given a second chance. A new life in a new world."
I stared at the wheels. This had to be some kind of dying hallucination, right? Except it felt too real, too solid. "Why?"
"Because you were kind without expectation of reward. Because you protected those weaker than yourself. Because your story is not meant to end here..."
That seemed like a stretch, but I wasn't about to argue with the mysterious cosmic voice about my qualifications for reincarnation.
"The wheels will determine your fate," the voice continued. "The golden wheel will grant you a power to aid you in your new life. The silver wheel will choose the world you will be reborn into. Are you ready?"
"Do I have a choice?"
"No."
'#Fairs. '
"Then yeah, I guess I'm ready."
The wheels began to spin faster, their surfaces blurring into bands of light. Symbols flashed past too quickly to read, and I felt a pulling sensation in my chest, like being tugged forward by an invisible string.
The golden wheel slowed first, its momentum gradually decreasing as I watched. The symbols became clearer—images of swords, shields, flames, lightning, creatures I didn't recognize. My heart pounded, though I wasn't sure I still had a heart in this place.
It clicked into place with a sound like a bell chiming.
The symbol that stopped in front of me showed...
The silver wheel was still spinning, and I couldn't take my eyes off it. This one would decide where I'd end up. Another Japan? A fantasy world? Something completely different?
It began to slow, and I felt that pulling sensation grow stronger.
The symbols on this wheel were different—landscapes, castles, stars, strange creatures and architecture. They blurred together as the wheel's rotation decreased, each one a potential future I couldn't begin to imagine.
Slower.
Slower.
The silver wheel clicked into place.
Both wheels flared with brilliant light, and I felt myself being pulled apart and put back together simultaneously.
The light consumed everything.
I felt like I was being stretched across infinite space, pulled through something that wasn't quite a tunnel but wasn't quite open air either. Colors I didn't have names for flashed past, and sounds that might have been music or screaming or both filled my ears.
Then, as suddenly as it started, it stopped.
I gasped, sucking in air like I'd been drowning, and my eyes snapped open.
Ceiling. A plain white ceiling with a small crack running through it near the corner. Not my ceiling in America. Not my old ceiling in Japan either.
I sat up slowly, half-expecting my body to feel different—maybe younger, maybe older, maybe not even human. But my hands looked like my hands. My arms felt like my arms. I was wearing clothes I didn't recognize, some kind of simple shirt and pants that felt worn but clean.
The room around me was small. A bed—the one I was sitting on—a desk with a small lamp, a closet, and a window with curtains drawn shut. Everything had a lived-in quality, like someone had been here for a while. Dust motes floated in the thin beam of light sneaking through the curtain gap.
"Okay," I said aloud, just to hear my own voice. It sounded normal. That was something. "So I'm not dead. Or I am dead and this is the afterlife, which would be disappointing because I expected more."
I swung my legs off the bed and stood. No dizziness. No weird sensations. Just... normal. My feet touched a cool wooden floor, and I walked to the window, pulling the curtain aside.
The view outside made me freeze.
It was a city, but not like any I'd seen before. The architecture was strange—a mix of old European style buildings and sleek modern structures that seemed to blend together naturally. In the distance, I could see what looked like a massive tower or maybe a school, its design too grand to be anything ordinary. The sky was blue and clear, and I could see what looked like airships—actual floating airships—drifting lazily through the air.
"What the hell?" I muttered.
Silence answered me. Complete silence.
I walked to the door and opened it, peering out into a hallway. "Hello?"
Nothing.
I made my way downstairs, each step creaking slightly under my weight. The house was empty. Not just quiet—actually empty. No people, no sounds of movement, nothing.
The living room had a couch, a TV, some photos on the walls. The kitchen was clean, like someone had tidied up before leaving. On the counter, I found a note written in neat handwriting.
"Katsuya - Had to leave early for work. Breakfast is in the fridge if you want it. Don't slack off today! - Dad"
Dad. Right. Memories stirred in my head, fuzzy and unclear, like they belonged to someone else. I had a life here. A father. Maybe a mother, though the memories about her were even fuzzier. But it all felt distant, like watching someone else's home videos.
I set the note down and noticed a mirror hanging on the wall near the kitchen entrance.
I stopped breathing.
'That wasn't my face.'
I walked closer, slowly, like approaching something dangerous.
Green hair. Not a natural green, but bright, vivid green that fell to about ear-length, neat and parted slightly. It had a clean, styled look without being messy or wild. And my face—pale, smooth skin that looked almost porcelain-like. Sharp features that gave me a somewhat refined appearance.
But my eyes...
I leaned in closer.
My eyes were closed.
Not squinting. Not half-shut. Completely closed, like I was perpetually keeping them shut with a relaxed expression. But I could see perfectly fine. Everything was clear, sharp even. It was like my eyelids being closed didn't matter at all.
And I was smiling. A constant, slight smile that curved my lips upward in a way that looked polite and friendly on the surface but had something indefinably off about it. Something that made it seem less genuine and more... calculated somehow.
I tried to open my eyes wider. They stayed shut.
I tried to stop smiling. The smile remained, fixed on my face.
"What the hell?" I whispered.
I looked exactly like Hazama from BlazBlue. The fighting game character I'd played a few times back in my old life. Not similar—exactly like him. The same green hair that fell neatly around my face. The same perpetually closed eyes that somehow didn't impair my vision at all.
The only difference was my clothes. Instead of Hazama's black suit, fedora, and tie, I was wearing a plain shirt and pants.
I touched my face, running my fingers over my closed eyelids. They felt normal, but they wouldn't open. Yet I could see perfectly. It made no sense.
"This is insane," I muttered, and even my voice sounded slightly different. Smoother somehow. More... controlled.
I tried making different expressions. Frowning—the smile stayed, though my eyebrows moved. Looking surprised—the smile remained fixed. Everything I did, that smile stayed on my face, and my eyes remained peacefully shut.
I looked friendly and approachable, but something about the overall effect was off. Like a mask of politeness covering something else entirely.
I stepped back from the mirror and took in my full appearance. Lean build, maybe around five-foot-ten or so. The green hair was immediately eye-catching, practically glowing even in the dim morning light. Combined with the closed eyes and constant neutral smile, I looked like someone who was either extremely pleasant or hiding something.
Probably both, if Hazama's character was anything to go by.
"Great."
I ran a hand through my green hair. The texture was fine, soft even. But the color was impossible to ignore.
I tried forcing my eyes open and revealing my sharp Yellow eyes but it closed immediately but I could still see perfectly.
I needed to understand what was happening.
I went back upstairs to the room I'd woken up in and looked around more carefully. There were photos on the desk—me with people I didn't quite recognize but knew were important. The fuzzy memories suggested family, friends, a normal life here.
Whatever "here" was.
I got dressed in what seemed to be my actual clothes—dark pants, a simple green shirt that complemented my hair color, and a black jacket. Looking in the closet mirror, I looked even more like Hazama now. Just missing the formal black suit and that fedora he always wore.
I grabbed whatever seemed important and made my way back downstairs. The breakfast in the fridge was simple—rice balls and some fruit. I ate mechanically, my mind racing.
New world. New face. I looked like Hazama from BlazBlue, complete with the closed eyes and permanent smile. And I had absolutely no idea what I was supposed to do now.
I finished eating and headed for the front door. Stepping outside, the sunlight hit my face and I instinctively would have squinted—except my eyes were already closed, so nothing changed. My vision adjusted quickly to the brightness.
The street was quiet. A few people were out, going about their business. Several of them glanced at me as they passed, and I noticed their expressions shift slightly. Double-takes at my green hair. Uncertain looks at my smile.
'Right. Looking like this was going to draw attention whether I wanted it or not.'
I wandered through the streets with no real direction, just trying to absorb everything. The city—Vale, according to a sign I'd passed—was busy but not overwhelming. People went about their business, and I tried to blend in despite my appearance making that nearly impossible.
I was still trying to figure out what to do when something vibrated in my jacket pocket.
I jumped slightly, patting my pocket in confusion. My hand closed around a flat device I hadn't realized was there. Pulling it out, I found what looked like a phone but sleeker, more advanced. The screen showed an incoming call from "Dad."
Right. A scroll.
I stared at it for a second, then answered. "Hello?"
"Katsuya!" My father's voice came through loud and excited. "Did you check your messages?"
"Uh... no, I just woke up not too long ago."
"Well, you're going to want to sit down for this. You got accepted into Beacon Academy!"
I stopped walking. Beacon Academy. The tower I'd seen in the distance. Some kind of school based on the vague memories floating in my head.
"Oh," I said, not really sure what the appropriate response was. I felt... nothing, really. Just confusion. But I couldn't exactly say that.
"That's... that's amazing!"
I forced as much enthusiasm into my voice as I could manage, trying to sound like someone who'd just gotten life-changing good news.
"I'm so proud of you, son! This is a huge opportunity. Beacon is one of the most prestigious Huntsman academies in all of Remnant!"
Remnant. Right. That's what this world was called.
"Thanks, Dad. I'll do my best."
"I know you will. But listen, Katsuya, I need you to promise me something."
Here we go. I could already tell where this was heading by his tone.
"What's that?"
"Don't fool around with any girls there."
I sighed before I could stop myself. The sound came out audibly, and I immediately regretted it.
"Katsuya!" His voice sharpened. "I'm serious! I know you're at that age, and Beacon is going to have plenty of girls, but you're there to learn, not to chase after every pretty face you see!"
"I wasn't—"
"That sigh tells me you're already thinking about it!"
"I'm not!" I protested, feeling genuinely annoyed now. "I swear I'm not going to fool around with anyone. I'm going there to study or train or whatever it is I'm supposed to do."
There was a pause on the other end. "You promise?"
"Yes, I promise."
"Good. Because if I hear any rumors about you causing trouble with girls, we're going to have a very different conversation. Understand?"
"I understand."
"Excellent. Now, you need to come back home and pick up your paperwork. Everything you need for tomorrow is here—admission forms, supply lists, all of it. Don't forget your weapon either."
Weapon. Right. I apparently had one of those.
"Got it. I'll head back now."
"Good. See you soon, son. And congratulations again. Your mother would be proud."
He ended the call before I could respond.
I stood there for a moment, staring at the scroll in my hand. My mother. The memories about her were hazier than anything else, like they'd been deliberately blurred. I got the sense she wasn't around anymore, but I couldn't pin down the details.
I pocketed the scroll and turned to head back toward the house, trying to remember the way I'd come.
That's when I noticed them.
Three women, all probably around my age, standing in a loose circle around some guy. They were clearly flirting with him—laughing at something he said, one of them touching his arm, another leaning in close. The guy looked like he was enjoying the attention, grinning and saying something that made them laugh again.
I clicked my teeth in annoyance.
I turned away from the scene and kept walking, shoving my hands in my pockets.
This new life was already exhausting, and I'd only been awake for a couple of hours.
The walk back home took longer than I expected, but eventually I found the right street. The house looked the same as when I'd left it—modest, quiet, normal. I walked up to the front door and went inside.
"Dad? I'm back."
"In the kitchen!" his voice called out.
I found him there, a middle-aged man with tired eyes and graying hair, sitting at the table with papers spread out in front of him. He looked up when I entered, and I saw something in his expression—guilt, maybe? Worry?
"Hey," I said. "Sorry about earlier. The sigh thing."
He waved it off, but his smile was strained. "No, I... I'm the one who should apologize. I was being overbearing." He gestured to the chair across from him. "Sit down. We need to talk."
I sat, feeling a knot form in my stomach. The fuzzy memories suggested this kind of serious tone usually meant bad news.
"You need to pack up tonight," he said. "You're leaving for Beacon tomorrow. Classes start the day after, so you'll have time to settle in."
"Tomorrow?" I blinked. "That's... really rushed. Why so soon?"
He looked down at the papers, not meeting my eyes. For a long moment, he didn't say anything. Then he let out a long breath.
"Because I didn't want you to go."
I stared at him. "What?"
"To Beacon. I didn't want you to go." His hands clenched on the table. "I was scared. The idea of you going off to fight Grimm, risking your life like that... I couldn't stand it. So I kept putting off telling you about the acceptance. Kept making excuses. But I can't keep lying to you."
The guilt in his expression was real. Raw.
I felt something tighten in my chest—not my emotions exactly, but the emotions of the person whose life I'd inherited. Memories of a father who'd always been there, who'd worked hard, who cared.
I stood up and walked around the table, pulling him into a hug.
"Thanks for being honest," I said quietly. "I know it wasn't easy."
He hugged me back tightly. "Just... be careful out there, okay? Come back in one piece."
"I will. I promise."
We stayed like that for a moment before he pulled back, wiping his eyes quickly.
"Alright, enough of that. Let's eat. I'll make your favorite."
Dinner was simple but good. We talked about small things—nothing important, just filling the silence. After we finished, I helped clean up and then headed upstairs to my room.
I needed to pack, but first... I needed to figure out this power the golden wheel had given me.
I sat on my bed and closed my eyes—or tried to. They were already closed. I focused inward instead, trying to sense something, anything that felt different.
And then I felt it. A presence. No, multiple presences. Like voices waiting just beyond a door.
I reached for that feeling, and suddenly—
A screen appeared in my vision. Not physical, but there, overlaying my sight like some kind of interface. At the top, it read "MULTIVERSAL SELF CHAT" in bold letters.
Below that were three names, each with a small icon next to them.
[Scathach]
[Koneko]
[Esdeath]
I stared at the names, my perpetual smile feeling especially wrong at that moment.
Scathach. The immortal warrior from Fate.
Koneko. The small, stoic devil girl from High School DxD.
Esdeath. The ice-cold general from Akame ga Kill.
All of them were... me? Other versions of me in different worlds, living different lives?
And all of them could kill me without breaking a sweat.
"Well, this is unnerving," I muttered.
A message appeared.
[Scathach: So the new one finally figured out how to access the chat.]
[Esdeath: Took you long enough. We've been waiting.]
[Koneko: ...Hi.]
I hesitated, then thought a response. It appeared as text in the chat.
[Katsuya: Uh... hi. So we're all the same person?]
[Scathach: Essentially. Different worlds, different bodies, different circumstances. But the same core consciousness.]
[Esdeath: Think of it as parallel existences. We share the same origin but diverged based on where we ended up.]
That... actually made sense in a weird way. But something was bothering me.
[Katsuya: Okay, but why is one of me Koneko? Couldn't it have been someone like Grayfia or something?]
A long pause.
[Koneko: ...Are you insulting me?]
I felt a distinct chill through the connection despite the text format.
[Katsuya: No! I mean, it's just... you know...]
I trailed off, not sure how to explain without digging myself deeper. Then another thought occurred to me, and despite everything, I found myself actually smiling beneath my permanent one.
Esdeath and Scathach. Their figures. Their... proportions.
Yeah, that was a nice consolation prize for this weird situation.
[Katsuya: At least two of you have good figures.]
[Koneko: ...]
[Esdeath: Why thank you. We do work hard to maintain these bodies.]
[Scathach: Physical training is essential.]
[Koneko: ...I'm going to hit you when we meet in person.]
I decided to change the subject before Koneko figured out how to reach through dimensions.
[Katsuya: So... weird question. What's it like? You know. Masturbating as a female?]
Dead silence in the chat.
Then:
[Scathach: ...I miss having a penis.]
[Esdeath: Seconded. Not necessarily worse, but different.]
[Koneko: ...Same.]
I felt a wave of melancholy wash over me—not just from me, but from all of them through the connection. These were versions of me, living in bodies that weren't what they were used to, dealing with completely different lives.
It was kind of sad, actually.
[Katsuya: I'm sorry. That must be—]
[Esdeath: Wait. You're still male?]
[Scathach: Actually, that's a good question. What body did you end up in?]
[Koneko: ...Show us.]
[Katsuya: Uh, actually I'm in a different body too. Not my original one.]
[Esdeath: What do you look like?]
I fumbled with my scroll, figuring out how to activate the camera. I held it up, took a picture of myself—green hair, closed eyes, perpetual smile and all—and somehow sent it through the mental connection to the chat.
There was a long pause.
[Scathach: ...You look like Hazama from BlazBlue.]
[Katsuya: Yeah. I noticed.]
[Esdeath: Well now. That's quite the appearance.]
[Scathach: The closed eyes give you a mysterious quality.]
[Koneko: And that smile... I like it.]
[Katsuya: Uh, thanks?]
[Koneko: ...You're attractive.]
'...What the fu-'
[Scathach: She's not wrong. We make a good-looking male.]
[Esdeath: Very much so. It's like looking at what we used to be.]
[Katsuya: This is getting weird.]
[Scathach: Is it? We're the same person. It's only natural we'd find ourselves attractive.]
[Koneko: ...I miss being a guy.]
[Esdeath: Same. Looking at you brings back memories.]
[Scathach: It's been so long since any of us had a male body.]
[Koneko: ...Can you send more pictures?]
[Katsuya: Why do you need more pictures?]
[Esdeath: Because you're what we used to be. What we remember being.]
[Scathach: We can't exactly look at other men in that way. We still like women.]
[Koneko: ...But you're a guy like use before. That's different.]
[Scathach: Exactly. You're ourselves as a male. It's... appealing.]
[Esdeath: Very appealing.]
[Koneko: ...Really appealing.]
[Katsuya: This is SO weird...isn't it still gay?]
[Esdeath: Just a few more pictures?]
[Scathach: Different angles would help.]
[Koneko: ...Please?]
[Katsuya: Why would I—]
[Koneko: I can send you pictures of Rias.]
[Esdeath: I can send you pictures of myself.]
[Scathach: I can do the same.]
[Koneko: ...And Akeno too.]
[Esdeath: In various outfits if you'd like.]
[Scathach: I'm quite flexible. Literally.]
[Koneko: ...Rias has a really impressive figure.]
[Esdeath: So do I. In case you forgot while looking at yourself.]
[Scathach: We're all quite attractive, if I do say so myself.]
[Koneko: ...Trade?]
[Esdeath: Fair exchange. Your pictures for ours.]
[Scathach: Seems reasonable.]
[Katsuya: This is insane. You're literally me.]
[Esdeath: Exactly. Which is why it's not strange at all.]
[Scathach: We're just appreciating ourselves.]
[Koneko: ...Please? Just a few more?]
[Esdeath: We're very persuasive when we want to be.]
[Scathach: And we want to be right now.]
[Koneko: ...You're really attractive.]
[Esdeath: Seriously. That Hazama look works for us.]
[Scathach: The green hair especially.]
I slammed the mental connection shut, cutting them all off.
"I reject my other selves' lust!" I declared to my empty room. "I will not succumb to bunny suit Esdeath and Scathach!"
'...unless they send multiple im screwed'