With around one week left before the final exam, which would cover both a written test and a practical exam, the classroom immediately fell into panic once Aizawa stepped out. The students who had scored low on the midterms were already on edge.
Tsutsumi, however, wasn't even thinking about it. His midterm ranking had been 20th out of 20, dead last. Not because he lacked the brains, but because every single one of his answers had been the same, either 10 or x. And he made sure that he only earned a total of ten points out of a hundred.
His student number in 1-A was also 10.
His code name, Decade, tied to the number 10 as well.
Aizawa quickly realized this problem child was messing with him. Yet at the same time, it revealed something else, that Tsutsumi wasn't just clever, he was a genius. A very troublesome, irritating, and exhausting genius.
Still, grades were grades. On record, he was at the bottom of the class.
As the final exams drew closer, the other students grouped up to study. Meanwhile, Tsutsumi slipped away again, vanishing without a trace. Hound Dog's angry howls echoed through the hallways, another failed attempt at catching him.
...
Reappearing in another world, Tsutsumi looked around and immediately realized he had been dropped into a war zone. Soldiers in silver-white armor raised their swords high, charging forward with disciplined fury.
"Such an interesting place to be thrust into," he murmured. He was about to leave when something caught his eye.
A young girl pretending to be a man, just a bit older than him, stood at the vanguard. Her long blonde hair was tied in a thick braid, her slender frame clad in silver and purple armor. In her hands, she held a holy banner affixed to a spear, the white fabric embroidered with golden fleur-de-lis, fluttering in the wind as she led the French army onward.
She was unmistakable. Jeanne d'Arc.
"Intéressant…" Tsutsumi whispered in French, raising his camera and snapping a picture of the saint.
Under her command, the French pushed back their enemy and claimed another hard-fought victory. Soon after, campfires lit up the dusk, and the army settled in. But unlike other nights, the soldiers looked truly happy. Their bowls were filled with steaming coffee beef curry, grilled fish, and seafood salad.
The food today was far better than the bland rations they were used to.
"Mhhh!" Jeanne let out a soft, almost unknightly moan as she ate, cheeks glowing faintly. The tender beef melted in her mouth, coated in the bittersweet coffee curry, balanced by sticky rice. The flavors were rich, overwhelming, addictive.
Her bliss was interrupted when her spoon scraped against the bottom of her bowl. She blinked in surprise, staring at the dish that was polished clean.
"You want seconds?"
The voice came with a smug grin. Jeanne looked up to see a boy in a white shirt, black pants, boots, and a magenta apron. A camera hung loosely from his neck, catching the firelight. His purple-pink hair stood out vividly, almost as much as the smirk on his face.
The surrounding knights all turned their heads, murmuring.
"Uh… sorry, but can we get your name?" one of them asked cautiously, eyeing Tsutsumi's unusual appearance.
"Tsutsumi," he replied simply, snapping another picture of Jeanne. "So, do you want seconds, Holy Savior?"
The knights exchanged uneasy glances. His name wasn't French, his looks were foreign, and yet his manner carried both confidence and charm. Coupled with his fluent French accent, fancy dress, and refined cooking, they quickly decided he had to be some noble who'd joined their cause. And since he had just taken over the kitchen and outclassed every other cook, nobody dared complain. In war, there were two people you never angered: the medic and the cook. One kept you alive, the other kept you fed.
Jeanne's cheeks reddened. Embarrassed, she looked away, only to hear Tsutsumi chuckle softly at her flustered state.
"You don't need to worry. France got this far because of you. We can't have you collapsing from hunger on the battlefield, can we?" he teased, refilling her plate and placing it down in front of her.
The other knights quickly agreed. Jeanne was their hope, their rallying light. If she were to fall from exhaustion, they would lose far more than just a battle.
Flustered by the sudden attention, Jeanne reluctantly accepted. Her bright blue eyes flicked toward the smug boy as if accusing him of enjoying this too much. She quickly looked down and ate again.
And again.
And again.
By the time she set her spoon down, Jeanne had eaten five full bowl of curry. Five.
She wanted nothing more than to crawl into a hole and stay there forever. Gilles looked at her in horror, muttering that they had let their savior march into battle half-starved. Meanwhile, Tsutsumi only watched her with open amusement.
"I-I need to get some fresh air!" Jeanne blurted, springing to her feet and hurrying out of camp.
Tsutsumi's smirk widened. He stood up as well, leaving the dirty pots and bowls to the camp cooks whose jobs he had casually stolen for the day. They were insulted, but powerless, his food had been leagues better than anything they could prepare. Even chefs who cooked for nobles would have trouble competing.
Hands in his pockets, camera swinging at his chest, Tsutsumi followed her into the night.
"Yo, Holy Savior, or can I call you Jeanne?" Tsutsumi asked with a sly smile.
Jeanne pouted when she saw him, already finding him irritating. "Jeanne is fine." Still, her eyes lingered on his face longer than she intended. Compared to the nobles she had met, he was far more handsome.
"So… how come I never saw you around camp before?" she asked, still keeping her guard up.
"Tch, what kind of leader doesn't even remember their own soldier?" Tsutsumi clutched his chest dramatically, pretending to be wounded.
Her cheeks flushed as she waved her hands in panic. "N-N-No! I didn't mean it like that! I was just curious, that's all!" She knew the unspoken rule well, you never anger the medic or the cook. And after eating his food earlier, she wasn't sure she could survive going back to stale bread again.
"I was joking. Relax, it's not like I just proposed to you," Tsutsumi chuckled, snapping a picture of her flustered face.
Jeanne's blush deepened as she pouted harder. "You really have a terrible personality!" she muttered, though under her breath came a softer line enough for only her to hear it, "As if you'd ever propose to a man…"
"You're not the first one to tell me that." His tone was casual, his gaze drifting to the night sky. "Don't you think… this night is beautiful?"
Her eyes followed his. The inky black sky was dotted with stars, shimmering across the heavens. "Yeah… I never really noticed before."
When had she ever taken the time to? Since she heard the Lord's call, she'd abandoned the life of a simple villager, the chance to be loved, to love in return. On the battlefield, she was forced to play the role of a man, her long hair hidden, her chest bound. A village girl daring to lead men into war was madness, and she bore the scorn in silence.
Tsutsumi suddenly reached out and took her hand. "Come. There's a nice spot by the river."
Still caught off guard by his unpredictable way of speaking, Jeanne didn't resist. She followed him.
They reached a small cliff near camp. Behind them, trees stood like quiet guardians, while before them the river glimmered under the moonlight. Fireflies danced over the surface, the night sky stretching endlessly above.
"Amazing…" she breathed, her heartbeat quickening.
Tsutsumi sat down on the grass, and she joined him. The wind brushed gently past, their hair swaying together in the night air.
"I never noticed this either…" she admitted, her fingers inching unconsciously closer until they brushed his.
"You know," he said softly, "you don't have to act like a man all the time."
Her breath caught. Then she exhaled, shoulders loosening. "So, you figured it out."
Her secret, her true identity, had been hidden from friend and foe alike. She bound herself in bandages, hardened her voice, and learn to be called a man. If exposed, she would fall from Savior to heretic.
"I just noticed," Tsutsumi said with disarming ease. "I thought I'd ask a few things."
Jeanne hugged her knees, her voice quieter, gentler now. "Ask away…"
"What do you want to do after all this?" His question came without malice, only curiosity.
She blinked, startled. She'd expected interrogation, maybe even blackmail. Instead… that.
After the war… what could she do? Could she ever return to being a farm girl? Or would she forever be Jeanne the Savior, never Jeanne the woman?
"I'm… not sure."
"Then don't think too hard," Tsutsumi said. "Just imagine what makes you happy. Do that, and the rest will follow."
Her mind drifted back to his food, to the warmth she felt in this moment. She smiled faintly. "Maybe… open a restaurant. Cook good food for people."
"Sounds perfect to me," he said, smiling back, his purple eyes soft in the starlight.
They laughed and talked together, the world around them fading to nothing but the flowing river, the hum of crickets, the night wind brushing against their skin.
For the first time in a long time, Jeanne smiled not as the Savior, but as a girl. Her hand slid into his, fingers intertwining before she even realized. He didn't pull away.
And for that fleeting moment, she wasn't the Holy Savior of France. She was simply Jeanne.
...
The next day, as the Siege of Compiègne erupted, Tsutsumi stayed back, camera in hand, watching from a distance.
His thoughts lingered on his interaction with Jeanne the night before. She wasn't just a saint, not just a historical figure carved into books, she was human. And, without even realizing it, he had started to like her more than he expected.
But he knew what was coming. This battle would be her last before she was captured.
Much like his own fate as Decade, where everything he touched was destined for ruin. Either he would destroy everyone he loved with his own hands, or he would die so that they could go on.
In a way, the two of them were like shattered mirrors, but only he could see the cracks.
He could change this. Save her. But the weight of history pressed against him. Would it create a paradox? Or split the world into an alternate timeline?
Jeanne's death wasn't something trivial. It was a cornerstone of history. Her death inspired generations. The world remembered her like it remembered King Arthur, not just for victory, but for what her end symbolized.
"This sucks…" he muttered, irritation twisting his voice.
If he saved her, she might live, but the world could collapse. If he didn't, she would die here. Both choices tasted bitter.
The moment came faster than he wanted. Jeanne held the rear guard bravely, but her horse was struck down, throwing her to the ground. Burgundian soldiers surged forward, ready to capture her.
And then...
A swift kick sent one of them flying.
The soldiers froze, staring at the figure now standing between them and their prey.
Dressed in black, a single purple line streaking across his chest, his pitch-black hair framing a W-shaped spike on his forehead, and crimson eyes glowing with defiance.
Kamen Ride: Joker!
Like a black knight shielding a princess, he planted himself in front of Jeanne.
"That stupid hero instinct…" he exhaled, almost scolding himself. His body had moved before his brain could stop it. Selfish or not, he couldn't watch someone he cared about be harmed, like how he became All the Evil of the Worlds just to save Miyu, willing to live on knowing he had doomed countless lives all for a selfish desire to save one person.
"W-Who are you!?" one Burgundian knight shouted, blade trembling as he pointed it at him.
Tsutsumi's crimson eyes narrowed. "Just a passing-through Rider. Remember that."
And with that, he charged straight into them.