Vash

Chapter 28

Chapter 28

Whoever said "the early bird gets the worm" clearly never considered that the worm might prefer to sleep in. t 4:55 AM, I stood in my underground training room, yawning so wide my jaw cracked. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, harsh and unforgiving.

"This is stupid," I muttered, rubbing my eyes. "Who learns anything at 5 in the morning?"

I'd barely slept. How could I? My mind had been racing all night with everything Azazel had told me. My company was a supernatural joint venture. My grandfather had made deals with devils, angels, and gods. And now I was about to start some kind of training with the leader of the Fallen Angels. 

Well, technically, I asked for the training, but still. 

I sighed.

"Good morning, Leon-kun!"

"HOLY SH—"

I nearly jumped out of my skin as Azazel's cheerful voice came from directly behind me. I whirled around to find him standing there, looking irritatingly fresh and well-rested in casual clothes—a simple black shirt and pants that somehow still managed to look expensive.

"Don't do that," I growled.

"Lesson one," he said with a grin, "always be aware of your surroundings."

"It's 5 AM. The only thing I'm aware of is that I should still be in bed."

Azazel laughed. "The supernatural world doesn't keep office hours, Leon-kun. Attacks come when you least expect them—especially when you're tired, distracted, or unprepared."

Easy for him to say. The guy probably didn't even need sleep. Did fallen angels need rest? Or food? Or anything humans required? Just another mystery in the growing pile of "supernatural bullshit I need to learn if I want to survive."

"Is that why we're doing this at dawn? To catch me at my worst?"

"Precisely!" He clapped his hands together. "Now, shall we begin?"

I sighed, resigning myself to whatever tortures he had planned. "Fine. What's first? Magic? Combat training? Ancient supernatural history?"

"First," Azazel said, his expression growing more serious, "we need to establish exactly what we're working with."

"Let's start with something basic. Summon your grimoire."

I did as he asked, calling the Arcanum Grimoire into existence. It appeared with a flash of golden light, floating serenely before me, its pages rustling slightly in a wind that wasn't there.

"Good," Azazel said. "Now, tell me—when you use it, what do you feel?"

I considered the question carefully. "It's like... like the grimoire can read me. It feels my intent, my mana, and then translates that into actual magic. The pages were mostly blank when I first got it, but they've been filling up with new spells as I learn and grow."

That wasn't entirely a lie. The Arcanum Grimoire I'd created was designed to work exactly that way—a living magical text that would develop alongside me, reading my mana and intent to help construct spell formulas. It was a standard grimoire concept that I'd enhanced in my Workshop, making it more responsive and intuitive than most.

"Ah," Azazel nodded, looking pleased. "So it follows the classic grimoire pattern. They're fascinating magical artifacts—extensions of their owners in many ways. The book grows as you grow, filling with new magic that reflects your development as a person and as a mage."

"Exactly," I confirmed, relieved that this part, at least, wouldn't require lies. "The spells that appear seem to match what I need or what I'm ready to learn. Sometimes they're challenging, pushing me to develop new skills."

Azazel extended his hand. "May I?"

Hesitantly, I directed the grimoire to float over to him. He didn't try to touch it, which was good, since I wasn't sure what would happen if he did, but instead observed it carefully from all angles.

"The binding is extraordinary," he murmured. "These sigils here and here—" he pointed to markings along the spine, "they are unlike I have anything I have ever seen before, and they are much more efficient and powerful."

I nodded, my Celestial Workshop seemed to draw on knowledge beyond my conscious understanding.

"And the pages themselves," Azazel continued, "they're not paper, but concentrated mana given physical form. A living book, essentially."

"Is that unusual for a Sacred Gear?" I asked.

"To manifest as a grimoire? Not entirely, though it's uncommon." Azazel gestured, and the book floated back to me. 

I caught it with both hands, feeling that familiar warm pulse of magic. 

"So what now?" I yawned again, the early hour still weighing on me. 

He smirked. I don’t like this.

“Combat Training.”

Then he attacked.

This fucker.

I barely had time to react when Azazel lunged at me, his fist aimed straight for my face. Instincts kicked in and I dove to the side.

Holy shit, he's fast! This was something else entirely. In the anime, they always showed supernatural beings moving quickly, but seeing it in person was terrifying. 

One moment he was standing there, the next he was on me. No build-up, no telegraph. Just pure, effortless speed. Can’t even see with my enhanced senses.

"What the hell?" I shouted, scrambling to my feet as Azazel pivoted smoothly, already coming at me again.

"Combat training!" he called cheerfully, like we were discussing the weather and not, you know, him trying to punch my face in. "Best way to learn is under pressure!"

Another swing—this one I blocked, channeling mana into my forearm just in time. The impact still sent vibrations up to my shoulder.

Even holding back, his strength was monstrous. That casual swing had more force behind it than most of the stray devils I'd fought. And this was him being gentle. I'd gotten too comfortable hunting low-level strays. This was a wake-up call about where I really stood in the supernatural hierarchy.

"A little warning would've been nice!" I gritted out, jumping back to create distance.

Azazel chuckled, circling me like a predator. "Enemies don't give warnings, Leon-kun."

He moved again, faster this time. Too fast. His fist connected with my stomach before I could even think about dodging, and I doubled over, gasping.

"Lesson two," he said, not even winded. "Speed matters."

I straightened up, anger and pride mixing in my chest. Fine. If that's how he wanted to play it.

I channeled mana into my limbs and shot forward, aiming a punch at his smug face.

He caught my fist like it was nothing, his grip firm but not crushing.

"Good," he nodded approvingly. "You're already using mana enhancement. But—" he twisted, flipping me over his shoulder and onto my back with a thud that knocked the wind out of me, "—technique matters more than raw power."

I lay there for a second, staring up at the ceiling, wondering what decisions in my life had led me to getting thrown around by a fallen angel at dawn.

"Get up," Azazel said, not unkindly. "We're just getting started."

I groaned but complied, pushing myself to my feet. My body is already healing the minor bruises from the impact. "What exactly are we trying to accomplish here?"

"I'm assessing your abilities," he explained, resuming his ready stance. "What you can do, how you respond under pressure, your instincts. It tells me where to begin your training."

"And you couldn't just ask?"

“Seeing is believing. Now, show me what you can really do. Don't hold back."

Fair point.

And with that. The dawning realization that my supernatural education was going to be a lot more painful than high school ever was.

Great. Just great.

Chapter 27

Chapter 27

I leaned back in my chair, trying to take it all in. My grandfather had created something extraordinary—a bridge between worlds that benefitted everyone involved. The old man wasn't just a business genius; he was a damn supernatural diplomat.

"So where do I fit in now?" I asked.

The million-dollar question. Or maybe the billion-dollar question, considering what I'd just learned about Mishima Corp's true scope.

Azazel's expression grew more serious. "That depends on you. Your grandfather intended for the supernatural side of Mishima Corp to remain separate from family management unless absolutely necessary. But with you interacting with the supernatural." He spread his hands. "The waters are getting muddier."

Muddier. What an understatement. I was practically swimming in supernatural mud at this point. Between my Celestial Workshop, my partnership with Sona, hunting stray devils, and now this revelation about the company—I was neck-deep in the very world my grandfather had tried to keep the family out of.

"And what would you recommend?" I asked, though I was already forming my own plans.

My brain was racing ahead, calculating possibilities. 

"Learn, and train," he said simply. "Grow stronger. Learn everything you can about the supernatural world, about the factions. Knowledge is protection. And maybe..." He grinned again. "Maybe consider taking a more active role in the supernatural side of your company."

Taking a more active role... now there was a thought. Not that I had much choice, really. Between the Kavacha and Kundala armor, the Dragon's Elixir, and everything else I'd created, I was already committed to this path. No going back to being just an ordinary high school student now.

Then, without warning, he tilted his head, eyes glinting. "Well, that's enough of me running my mouth."

I blinked. "Huh?"

The sudden shift in his demeanor caught me off guard. There was something predatory in his posture now, like a cat who'd been lazily sunning itself suddenly spotting a mouse.

Azazel smiled, but there was something sharp beneath it now. "Your turn to answer a few questions."

Shit. I should've seen this coming. Nothing's free, especially information from the leader of the Fallen Angels.

Azazel leaned forward, steepling his fingers under his chin like some anime villain.

“Let’s start simple,” he said casually. “Tell me about the grimoire you’ve been using.”

“Grimoire? You mean that weird floaty book thing?” 

Of course, I decided to play dumb and keep it simple. I can’t exactly say I made it. 

 “Yes, that one. The one that lets you use magic.”

“Oh, that.” I gave a shrug, adopting a ‘dumb but pretty’ expression. “One day it just... appeared in front of me. Like, poof.. Just floating there.”

“I see,” he said slowly. “And you say you have no idea where it came from?”

I shook my head, still playing the fool, Oscar-worthy, honestly. Somebody get me a trophy and a tearful speech ready. 'I'd like to thank the Academy, and also my previous life watching terrible B-movies for teaching me how to act this badly on purpose.'

“You mentioned something before—about Sacred Gears. Is that what this is?” I asked,  summoning the grimoire—no use in hiding it.

Azazel tapped his chin. “Sacred Gears… They’re divine artifacts. God’s little gift, humanity’s package deal. Miracles, really.”

“So… what do they actually do?”

“They do a lot of things,” he said slowly. “Each one is different. Some grant strength, some manipulate time or space… Some even house fragments of legendary beings.”

I nodded, as if this was all new information. All the while, my mind was racing. Did he really believe my grimoire was a Sacred Gear? Or was he testing me?

"And is my grimoire one of those?"

Azazel examined the floating book with narrowed eyes, his gaze almost physical as it traced the symbols on its cover. I could almost see the calculations happening behind those ancient eyes.

"To be honest, I'm not quite sure, as far as I know, I haven't encountered that sacred gear before."

A small victory. He hadn't seen through my lie—at least not completely. But his next words sent a chill down my spine.

Azazel grinned, the mischievous glint in his eyes sharpening. "And that's why I'm here."

“A new, unknown Sacred Gear? My senses are tingling. This could be interesting.”

I forced a smile. “Does that mean you’ll be around... all the time?”

God, I hope not. The last thing I needed was Azazel breathing down my neck, watching my every move. How would I use my Celestial Workshop with him around? How would I train? How would I hunt stray devils? And what about my partnership with Sona?

Azazel's grin widened. "You betcha."

"I guess I don't have much choice, do I?"

A sinking feeling settled in my stomach. This was going to complicate everything.

"Yup. What can I say, I'm a simple fallen angel with simple pleasures."

Oh, great...

"Somehow I doubt that," I said dryly.

Azazel laughed, a sound that somehow managed to be both warm and unsettling at the same time. "Smart kid. You really are Takeshi's grandson."

I didn't know whether to take that as a compliment or a warning.

"So," he continued, "when did the grimoire first appear?"

I had to be careful here. Too many details would make him suspicious, too few would do the same.

"A few months ago," I said, which was roughly accurate. "After..." I hesitated, as if unsure whether to share. "After a strange dream."

"Oh?" Azazel leaned forward, his interest visibly piqued. "What kind of dream?"

I shrugged, trying to look uncomfortable. "It's kind of fuzzy. There was a voice, telling me I was chosen for something."

Again, not entirely a lie. The first time I accessed my Celestial Workshop had been in a dream-like state. But I was shaping the narrative, making it sound more like a Sacred Gear awakening than what it really was.

"Fascinating," Azazel murmured. "And the grimoire helps you with magic?"

"Yeah. It's like... it knows things. Spells, techniques. When I focus on it, the knowledge just flows into me." I demonstrated by opening the grimoire, letting its pages flip by themselves, golden light emanating from the text. "But I can only handle so much at once. Too much and I get these killer headaches."

That last part was true. The Arcanum Grimoire was designed to help me master magic gradually. Information overload was a real risk—I'd learned that the hard way during my early experiments.

Azazel nodded thoughtfully. "That's consistent with some types of knowledge-based Sacred Gears. They often have safeguards to prevent the user from burning out."

I let out a mental sigh of relief. He was buying it.

"And what else can you do?" he asked. "Besides the grimoire."

Shit. I wasn't ready for that question. How much should I reveal? The Dragon's Elixir had enhanced my physical abilities, but that might be harder to pass off as a Sacred Gear. And the Kavacha and Kundala armor? Definitely not something I wanted to show him right now.

"I'm... stronger than I used to be," I admitted cautiously. "Faster too. And I heal quickly."

Azazel raised an eyebrow. "Show me."

With a resigned sigh, I stood up and walked to the ornate marble paperweight on my desk. I picked it up with one hand, then crushed it effortlessly, pulverizing it into fine powder that sifted through my fingers.

"Impressive," Azazel murmured. "And the healing?"

I hesitated, then took a letter opener from my desk and, before I could second-guess myself, sliced a shallow cut across my palm. Blood welled up for a moment, then the wound knitted itself closed in seconds.

"Even more impressive," Azazel said, eyes gleaming with interest. "The grimoire grants you knowledge, and you have enhanced physical abilities. Quite the package."

I shrugged, trying to look nonchalant while my mind raced. "I guess I got lucky."

"Lucky indeed," Azazel murmured. 

He leaned back, seemingly satisfied with our conversation for now. "Well, I think that's enough interrogation for one day. You've given me plenty to think about."

Thank god.

"So... what now?"

"Now?" Azazel stood up, straightening his suit. "Now I become your new best friend, Leon-kun. Your mentor in all things supernatural. Your guide to this brave new world you've stumbled into."

"And if I don't want a guide?" I asked, though I already knew the answer.

Azazel's smile was sharp. "That's not really an option anymore. You're in this now, whether you like it or not. Better to have someone showing you the rules than to fumble around in the dark, wouldn't you say?"

He had a point, infuriating as it was. And maybe... maybe I could use this. Azazel knew more about the supernatural world than almost anyone. Having him as a "mentor" could give me access to knowledge and resources I wouldn't otherwise have. As long as I was careful about my Celestial Workshop, maybe this arrangement could work to my advantage.

"Fine," I said with a resigned sigh. "But I have conditions."

"Oh?" Azazel looked amused. "The student setting terms for the teacher? This should be good."

I raised a finger. "One: My normal life comes first. School, company business—those take priority."

Another finger. "Two: No supernatural drama at school or the office. Those are neutral zones."

A third finger. "Three: You teach and train me what I need to know, not just what you find interesting."

Azazel held up his hands in mock surrender. "Such demands! But fair enough. I accept your terms."

Then his expression shifted, the playfulness giving way to something more calculating. "However, I have one condition of my own."

I tensed. Of course he did. Nothing with supernatural beings was ever simple.

"I'm listening," I said cautiously.

"I get to examine you and your grimoire regularly," Azazel said simply. "If I'm going to teach you, I need to understand what I'm working with."

I frowned. "That's it?” I expected more to be honest.

He confirmed with a nod.

"Why are you doing this?" I asked bluntly. "I mean, you could just force me to hand over the grimoire if you wanted. Why all this..." I gestured vaguely, "mentoring business?"

Azazel's eyes widened slightly, then he threw his head back and laughed. "Force you? My, my, you do have a low opinion of me."

"Am I wrong?" I challenged.

"Yes, actually." His amusement faded into something more serious. "For one thing, Sacred Gears are bound to their users. I could take it, but it would be useless to me unless you died—and I have no interest in killing you, Leon-kun."

That made sense with what I knew of Sacred Gears from the anime. But my grimoire wasn't actually a Sacred Gear...

"And for another," Azazel continued, "force is inefficient. Messy. It creates enemies. Your grandfather understood this, it's why Mishima Corp succeeded where others failed. Cooperation yields better results than coercion."

"Fine," I said after a moment. "You can examine the grimoire. But nothing invasive."

Azazel grinned. "Excellent."

He extended his hand. "So, do we have a deal, Leon Mishima?"

I looked at his outstretched hand, knowing that once I took it, there would be no going back. I'd be officially stepping into the supernatural world, with all its dangers and complexities. But hadn't I already done that, the moment I created my first item in the Celestial Workshop?

With a deep breath, I took his hand. "Deal."

His grip was firm, his skin unexpectedly warm. Something passed between us in that moment—not magic, not power, but a kind of understanding. A mutual acknowledgment that we were now bound by this agreement, for better or worse.

"Excellent," Azazel said, releasing my hand. "For your training, we'll start tomorrow. I hope you're an early riser."

"Wait, what?" I blinked. "Tomorrow?"

"Of course! No time like the present—well, the near future in this case." He grinned. "Be ready at 5 AM. We have a lot to cover."

"5 AM?" I groaned. "You're joking."

"I never joke about education, Leon-kun." His grin said otherwise. "5 AM sharp. Don't be late."

With that, he turned and walked toward the door, pausing just before opening it. "Oh, and Leon?"

"Yeah?"

“Welcome to the supernatural world.”

Chapter 26

Chapter 26

“When will you leave?” I asked, not bothering to mask the irritation in my voice.

“Oi, oi, Leon-kun. You're hurting my feelings here. I just arrived, you know.”  

Sitting in front of me, acting like this was some kind of business meeting, with an annoying smirk on his face.

“Tch,” I muttered, leaning back in my chair.

I could already feel a headache starting, but at the same time, his visit could be the perfect opportunity to figure out more about the supernatural world around me. I had some knowledge from the anime, sure, but let’s be real, I knew nothing beyond the surface level. And Azazel? He was the real deal.

“Tell me, why are you really here? Oh wait—don’t tell me, I think I know why," I said, raising a hand.

Azazel is still there with a shit-eating grin on his face.

Of course, he was here. After all, he mentioned that I am the most interesting thing to him at the moment.

I sighed. 

“So what’s the deal with you being a shareholder in my company?”

“That? Oh, that goes way back. I was around when the Mishima Corporation was just getting off the ground. Actually, I knew your grandfather personally.”

What. 

“Wait, you knew grandpa?” I asked, sitting up straighter.

My grandfather? Of course, Azazel knew him. Honestly, I should’ve seen that coming. The old man was a legend, even before I got reincarnated. Takeshi Mishima, founder of the Mishima Corporation, feared across boardrooms and back alleys alike. The kind of guy who made CEOs sweat and shadowy figures from the underworld negotiate instead of threaten. 

Unfortunately, he died of old age a few years ago.

Still, it made sense now. Azazel being part of that picture? Yeah. That tracked.

Azazel smiled fondly, like he was reminiscing about an old drinking buddy. “Oh, Takeshi was a riot. Brutally efficient, completely ruthless, and way too smart for his own good. Had a mouth worse than yours, too. You’d have gotten along... eventually.”

Takeshi Mishima had literally danced with devils, and also with fallen angels. Maybe he even danced with angels and gods.

"I always figured there was something more behind the way we operated," I muttered.

Our company's reach was too perfect, too comprehensive. We had branches in places that made no logical sense from a purely business standpoint. And the way our security operated... there were patterns I'd noticed but couldn't explain. Until now.

Azazel chuckled. “You think a company like Mishima just survives in the supernatural world by accident? No. Your grandfather made a deal—a smart one.”

“Let me guess. He made friends with the monsters?”

“Not quite,” Azazel said, leaning in with a grin. “He made business partners out of them.”

He paused dramatically before continuing, clearly enjoying himself.

“See, normally, a human corporation with this much wealth and influence would’ve been absorbed into a supernatural faction decades ago. Devils, fallen, even a few gods—they’d fight over it, break it apart, use it for their own agendas.”

“Sounds about right.”

“But Takeshi? He flipped the script. He got all those factions to agree to a pact. Instead of trying to take over Mishima Corp, they’d buy in. Become shareholders. Each one gets a piece of the pie, no one starts a war, and the company stays ‘neutral ground.’”

I blinked. “So… the Mishima Corporation is a supernatural joint venture now?”

“More like a supernatural stock market. And your family holds the majority stake.”

I took a moment to let that sink in. My grandfather had connections to the supernatural world? That certainly explained a few things. To be honest, I was also puzzled about how this company managed to be the best in the world without any supernatural involvement. 

Azazel grinned. “Your family’s company is the Switzerland of the supernatural world. Profitable neutrality. And believe me, it’s very profitable.”

I slumped back in my chair, with everything making sense.

“And you’re one of those shareholders?”

“Of course,” he said proudly. “Been one since the beginning. I helped draft the damn charter.”

Of course he did.

Supernatural politics disguised as economics.

“Do my parents know about any of this?” I asked, eyes narrowing slightly.

Azazel shook his head. “Doubt it. One of Takeshi’s conditions was to keep this arrangement strictly off the family radar. He didn’t want them tangled up in the supernatural side of things unless absolutely necessary.”

“Right... ”

To be honest, I am currently amazed at my grandpa, how he managed to do this while being a normal person, I have no idea.

“Still… gods and angels exist too, huh?”

“Oh, they’re very real,” Azazel said, nodding seriously. 

“So… how does it all work?” 

Azazel leaned back, crossing his legs as if settling in for a lecture. His eyes gleamed with that peculiar mix of ancient wisdom and mischief.

"The supernatural world operates like an ecosystem," he explained, gesturing with his hands. "Different factions, different agendas, different powers—all competing and sometimes cooperating for influence and resources."

"Like businesses," I offered.

"Exactly like businesses, which is why your grandfather's approach was so brilliant. He understood the language we all speak—power and profit."

I drummed my fingers on the desk. "So these factions—devils, fallen angels, gods—they're all just... hanging around Earth?"

Azazel laughed. "Not exactly. Most supernatural entities have their own realms or territories. Think of them as... different countries with their own borders, governments, and laws. Heaven, the Underworld, Asgard, and various realms exist adjacent to the human world."

"And they cross over?"

"Constantly," he nodded. "Some more openly than others. Most supernatural entities can move between realms with varying degrees of difficulty. Devils tend to be more active in human affairs than angels these days. Gods are... selective about their interventions."

“Which brings us back to your company."

"How so?"

"The Mishima Corporation sits at a unique intersection. It has legitimate business power in the human world and recognized neutrality in the supernatural one. That makes it invaluable." He gestured around at my office. "This building alone probably has representatives from a dozen different supernatural factions working in it, all maintaining the balance your grandfather established."

I nearly choked. "People in my company are supernatural beings?"

"Some," Azazel nodded. "Others are just humans with connections. Your HR director? Completely normal human. Your head of security? Full-blooded devil from a minor house. The cleaning lady on the executive floor? A kitsune who's been with the company since your grandfather's time."

My head was spinning. I'd been surrounded by supernatural entities this whole time without realizing it. No wonder some of them smelled weird.

I couldn’t help but clench my fist, realizing how oblivious I had been to my surroundings. This is unacceptable.

"And they all just... work together? No problems?"

"Oh, there are problems," Azazel chuckled. "Supernatural politics don't disappear just because everyone's wearing suits instead of armor. But the incentive to maintain the arrangement is strong. Mishima Corp provides benefits that no faction wants to lose."

"Like what?"

"Access to cutting-edge human technology without supernatural fingerprints. Discreet financial services that work across realms. A neutral ground for meetings. Information networks. And, of course, profit." He shrugged. "Money talks, even to gods."

Great

Chapter 25

Chapter 25

Two weeks have passed since I met Azazel.

After that, I decided to take it easy for some time. Even though I really wanted to stick to my usual night hunting routine, I knew it was best to lay low for a while. 

I spent my days in the training room, practicing my magic and waiting for Laevateinn. My encounter with Azazel made me realize just how much I still needed to improve. 

Still, even though we didn’t actually fight, I knew that I wouldn’t necessarily lose if it came to that. I mean, sure, Azazel's power is on a whole other level, but I’ve got a few tricks of my own. With Kavacha and Kundala on my side, my defense is basically overpowered. I could probably hold my ground for a while.

But, let’s be real, my mana burst and magic probably wouldn’t be enough to leave a scratch on him right now, let alone defeat him, which frustrates me more than it should.

Right now, I don’t plan to make myself the center of attention. I know better than that. Besides, I have no plans to fight him. Not yet. I’m not suicidal.

I might be reckless, but I’m not an idiot. Azazel’s the kind of guy who has a backup plan for his backup plan’s funeral.

That being said, training’s been going pretty well lately. I’m definitely improving, just… not there yet. I need more time.

I glanced at my workshop.

[Laevateinn]
Estimated time: 45 days. 

I am excited because there is only a little more than a month left. After that time, I believe I can protect myself and my family.  

I already have plans for what I want to create next. 

One of my top ideas is to build an AI companion. This is very important for me, as I want it to help me run my company while I focus on my training. I want to create something intelligent enough to handle the company's operations. This way, I can concentrate on what truly matters: training and becoming stronger. 

Then, next was the Kaleido-Gun. I know, the name sounds like something straight out of a cartoon, but hear me out—it’s kind of brilliant. This idea came to me a few months ago. Picture it as a combination of a kaleidoscope and a portal gun from the show Rick and Morty. 

Travelling through the multiverse is a must; why should I stay in one place? There are so many ways to grow stronger in the multiverse, and I can’t just sit around waiting for my items in the workshop to be ready. I need to take action and find opportunities in the meantime.

In the end, it was an Asauchi, a special kind of sword. I came to understand that I didn't have a good weapon for my needs. At some point, just using regular steel swords isn't enough. If they break during a fight, I could lose my life, and that's a risk I can't take.

There it clicked.

Bleach.

Yeah, that Bleach.

An asauchi.

A blank zanpakuto. The sword before the sword. Pure potential, forged not to be used, but to become. To grow alongside the wielder. To reflect their soul.

That was it.

Not just a weapon. A partner.

And it made sense. In a world that could change in an instant, where chaos was basically a daily event... I needed a weapon that could adapt with me.

I was in the training room when I heard him. 

“Young Master, the Master and Mistress have arrived. They would like to speak with you," Hayama said respectfully. 

My parents were here, and I felt a wave of surprise wash over me. To be honest, I kinda forgot about them, it's been more than a month since I last saw them. 

I quickly put away my training gear and changed my clothes before heading out to meet them, my mind racing with questions about what they wanted to discuss. Did something happen?

As I walked into the living room, I noticed my parents sitting there, but they were not by themselves. There was someone with them, chatting and laughing. 

As I neared, my steps slowed, and my heart did a weird little hiccup. Sitting there with my parents, as if he belonged, was none other than Azazel.

Fuck.

“Oh, there he is!” my mother said happily, waving for me to come closer. "Sweetheart, come meet our guest. This is Aza Ishikawa." 

She said the name like it was supposed to mean something. At first, it didn’t register. Just sounded like another rich donor who probably bought stock for fun. But then it clicked—like a goddamn puzzle piece snapping into place.

Aza Ishikawa.

Oh no. 

Of course, that name was familiar, as the heir of the Mishima Corporation, I was supposed to know everything about the company—its history, its operations, and even the shareholders' names. 

“Ah, so this is your son. A pleasure to finally meet you. Leon-kun.” His eyes locked with mine, and for a second, everything else disappeared. He bastard knew exactly what he was doing.

“Ishikawa-san,” I said, keeping my voice level and polite. Barely. “It’s an honor.”

“Please, no need for such formalities. We're practically family, aren’t we?”

I nearly choked on my own tongue. Practically family? Bro, you stalk me and now you're playing house in my damn living room?

So this was it. This was retaliation for ghosting him. He came to my house.

“Leon’s been working so hard lately,” my father chimed in, oblivious. “We thought he could use a bit of mentorship. Someone to guide him through the… more complex aspects of the company.”

“Oh, I completely agree,” Azazel said, placing his teacup down. “It’s important for young heirs to have a firm understanding of both the boardroom and the battlefield.”

My eyes narrowed just slightly. Was that a jab? A threat? A challenge?

“So,” Azazel continued, resting his chin on one hand, “I’ll be staying in the city for a while. Perhaps we could arrange some one-on-one time, Leon-kun. I'd love to get to know the future of Mishima Corporation more... intimately.”

My mom clapped her hands, clearly thrilled. “That sounds wonderful! Leon, you should show him around. You two have so much in common.”

Yeah. Like a mutual desire to dropkick each other off a building.

“Sure,” I said tightly. “I'd love that.”

Azazel smiled, all fangs behind a gentleman’s charm. “I’m looking forward to it.”

God help me.

Oh, wait- he’s dead.