The move happened faster than I expected.
Mom packed our entire life into six cardboard boxes, taped with more determination than strength. I tried helping, but when you're four years old your contribution is mostly "passing things" and "not getting in the way."
We boarded the train early in the morning. Mom held my hand the whole time.
She probably thought I was nervous.
I wasn't.
I was terrified.
Not of moving.
Not of new people.
But of what lived in Kuoh.
Every time I blinked, my mind replayed memories from my previous life — fallen angels, stray devils, sacred gears, supernatural factions treating Japan like a chessboard. Kuoh Town wasn't just a setting.
It was a shithole for the trouble.
A place where entire factions tiptoed around each other, pretending to coexist while preparing to stab each other the moment the balance shifted.
And I was moving straight into it.
I pressed my forehead against the train window.
The blurred scenery looked peaceful, almost too peaceful.
Mom squeezed my hand gently.
"You okay, sweety?"
"…Yeah."
She smiled with tired eyes. "New beginnings are scary. But we'll be fine sweety."
I hoped she was right.
But deep down, I knew she wasn't.
Not in this world.
When we stepped out of the station, a strange sensation crawled across my skin.
Kuoh looked normal — clean streets, trimmed bushes, children laughing, bikes passing by.
But beneath that normality, something tugged at my senses.
It wasn't visual.
It wasn't sound.
Not even smell.
It was… pressure.
Like the air was thicker, heavier.
Like the town itself was watching.
My tiny fingers unconsciously tightened around Mom's hand.
I swallowed.
This town is alive.
Not in the poetic sense.
Literally.
Our new place was a old moderate japanese house. The walls were thin, the floor creaked, but the sunlight poured through the windows warmly.
Mom looked around with a soft smile.
"Do you like this new home sweety?."
I nodded. "It's nice."
Because it was.
Despite everything, a home with her always felt safe and complete.
Mom unpacked while I sat on the tatami mat, legs crossed, staring at the ceiling.
That strange pressure in the air hadn't vanished.
Like faint echoes brushing my skin.
Like something was murmuring at the edge of my senses.
I touched my chest.
Inside, the spark flickered again.
A faint warmth responding to the environment.
This place wasn't normal.
And my body knew it.
When Mom wasn't looking, I whispered:
"…Is this how mages sense mana?"
No answer, of course.
Just silence.
In the evening, Mom and I went to the neighborhood park.
She said I should "explore the area."
I think she wanted me to make friends.
Children played on swings and slides. Mothers sat on benches chatting.
Normal. Peaceful.
But something kept brushing against the edge of my senses—
like someone whispering behind me, then disappearing every time I turned.
It wasn't threatening.
More like… curious.
Then—
Thump.
I bumped into someone while walking, falling onto my butt.
"Oof!"
A boy my age stared at me with wide brown eyes.
Messy hair. Dirt on his knees.
He blinked, then suddenly offered his hand.
"You okay? I'm Issei!"
So this is the future Boob Dragon Emperor.
Hyoudou Issei in the flesh.
Future headache magnet.
I feel bad for the trauma Ddraig will have to endure in the future.
I hesitated, then took his hand.
"…I'm Ren."
His face lit up like I'd given him a treasure.
"Wanna play?"
Before I could answer, he grabbed my wrist and dragged me toward the sandbox.
Apparently my opinion didn't matter.
Mom laughed from the bench.
Issei didn't stop dragging me until we reached the other side of the playground — near the slide where a little girl was sitting, poking the dirt with a stick like she was trying to draw something important.
She looked up when she heard us approaching.
Brown hair tied into uneven pigtails.
Bright chestnut eyes.
Round cheeks.
About the same age as us.
Issei puffed out his tiny chest proudly.
"Ren! This is Akane! She's my twin sister!"
The girl blinked, tilted her head, then gave a shy little wave.
"…Hi."
I froze for a moment.
Not because she looked unusual.
Not because she felt dangerous.
Not because something supernatural stirred around her.
No — nothing like that.
I just didn't expect her.
In the anime and light novels, Issei never had a sister.
So seeing her here , blinking at me with curious eyes — felt like reality itself had nudged me and said:
"Surprise motherf#cker."
I forced my expression to stay calm. A four-year-old shouldn't look like he's having an existential crisis after all.
Issei tugged my sleeve again.
"Akane's nice! She shares snacks! but she hits me sometimes,."
Akane poked his head with her stick.
"That's because you do steal them, dummy."
Issei yelped.
I couldn't help the small sound that escaped my throat — somewhere between a laugh and a snort.
So this was Akane Hyoudou.
A girl who shouldn't exist in canon…
…well may be i should stop relaying 100% on the cannon knowledge after all she shouldn't exist yet here she is in flesh.
"Ren," she said gently, her voice softer than her brother's, "do you wanna play?"
For a moment, I just stared.
Her warm brown eyes met mine — open, unguarded, and completely unaware that she was living in a world filled with devils, angels, and things far worse.
Issei is the protagonist of this world.
He'll gain power. Allies. A dragon in his soul.
But Akane?
She's just a child.
A ordinary human girl.
Someone who might be pulled into danger simply by standing too close to her brother.
I swallowed and nodded.
"…Sure."
Her face brightened instantly, like the sun rising.
She scooted over on the sandbox edge and patted the spot next to her. "Come sit!"
Issei jumped in first, kicking sand everywhere.
Akane scolded him.
Issei pouted.
She flicked his forehead.
It was… normal.
Too normal.
And for the first time since stepping into Kuoh…
…I felt a tiny, fragile emotion stir inside me.
Hope.
Maybe—
Just maybe—
Not everything in this world would be pain and chaos.
Maybe there could be moments like this.
Small.
Warm.
Human.
I sat beside them quietly.
Akane leaned forward, smiling.
"So, Ren… do you like drawing in the sand too?"
I looked down at the uneven lines, the childish shapes she'd tried to make.
"…I can try," I said.