Three months after the dinner, life had gotten...interesting.
I was now officially the "Mishima-Shitori Project Liaison," which was corporate-speak for "guy who has to spend way too much time in meetings with devils." Thanks, Dad.
And guess who was the Sitri side's appointed representative?
Yep. Sona.
"You're late," she said without looking up from her tablet as I walked into the conference room. Her usual spot—head of the table, perfect posture, not a hair out of place.
"By like, two minutes," I replied, dropping into the chair across from her. "The traffic was demonic."
She glanced up, eyes narrowing slightly at my word choice. I just smiled innocently.
"We have a lot to cover today," she said, sliding a stack of documents across the table. "The permits for the Kyoto site are still pending, and we need to finalize the architectural plans for the Osaka location."
I flipped through the paperwork, scanning for anything interesting. "How's the staffing situation? I told my dad we should poach that neurosurgeon from Tokyo General."
"Dr. Yamada? Already done," Sona replied. "He starts next month."
I raised an eyebrow, genuinely impressed. "That was fast."
"Efficiency is my specialty," she said, the smallest hint of pride in her voice.
"Among other things," I muttered, just loud enough for her to hear.
Working with Sona these past months had been... an education. For both of us, I think. She approached every problem like it was a chess match—methodical, strategic, ten steps ahead. I was more of a "let's try something crazy and see if it works" kind of guy. Somehow, we balanced each other out.
The Mishima-Shitori Healthcare Initiative was actually moving faster than anyone had expected. Three hospitals already in the planning stages, two more sites being scouted, and enough press coverage to make both our families look like saints. The devils getting good PR for healing humans—the irony wasn't lost on me.
"The contractors are asking about the materials for the Yokohama site," Sona continued, scrolling through her notes. "Apparently there's some issue with the specialized glass we ordered."
"Already handled it," I replied, pulling out my phone to show her the email. "Called in a favor from a supplier in Germany. Better quality, same price."
She looked surprised for a moment before nodding. "That's... actually impressive."
"Don't sound so shocked," I grinned. "I do occasionally pay attention in these meetings."
"When you're not trying to see how many times you can use words like 'hellish' and 'divine' in one conversation," she pointed out.
"It keeps things interesting."
The corner of her mouth twitched. Not quite a smile, but close. Over the months, I'd gotten better at making those almost-smiles happen.
We worked through the agenda—budgets, timelines, staffing, PR strategies. The usual corporate dance, but with the added spice of knowing that half the room had supernatural powers. Just another Wednesday.
"My father is pleased with our progress," Sona said as we were wrapping up. "He mentioned it at the last family dinner."
"High praise from Mr. Shitori," I replied, leaning back in my chair. "My parents won't stop talking about how 'refreshing' it is to work with the Shitori's. Mom keeps dropping hints about 'strengthening family ties.'"
Sona's eyes widened slightly. "What exactly does that mean?"
I shrugged, enjoying her momentary discomfort. "You know how parents are. See two young people working together successfully, immediately start planning the dynasty."
She adjusted her glasses—her tell when she was flustered. "That's... highly presumptuous of them."
"Relax, Souna. I'm not measuring you for a ring yet."
"As if I would accept," she replied quickly, but there was a hint of color in her cheeks.
I gathered my papers, deciding to show mercy. "Next meeting Thursday? We should go over the medical equipment bids."
She nodded, composure back in place. "Thursday works. And don't be late."
"Wouldn't dream of it," I said, standing. Then, because I couldn't help myself: "You know, for someone who's supposedly cold and calculating, you're surprisingly easy to fluster."
Her violet eyes snapped to mine. "And for someone who's supposedly just a normal high school student, you're surprisingly perceptive."
The words hung in the air between us. A challenge. A question.
I held her gaze for a moment. "Maybe we're both full of surprises."
She studied me, and I could almost see the gears turning behind those sharp eyes. "Perhaps," she finally said. "But some secrets are better left uncovered, Leon."
"Where's the fun in that?" I replied, heading for the door. "See you Thursday, Shitori-senpai."
Outside of all the corporate devil business, I'd been keeping busy. The Arcanum Grimoire was finally complete, and I'd been experimenting with it every night in my underground bunker.
Magic. Real, honest-to-goodness magic.
Not the cheap party tricks humans called magic. Not even the complex ritual magic that human sorcerers used. This was the real deal—raw magical energy shaped by will and intent.
The grimoire made it possible. It read my mana, interpreted my intent, and constructed the necessary formulas. All I had to do was provide the power and direction.
I was still in the basics phase—fireballs, shield barriers, simple elemental manipulation. But I was learning fast. The grimoire wasn't just a tool; it was a teacher. Each spell I cast taught me more about how magic worked, how to shape it, control it.
And man, was it addictive.
There's something about holding fire in your palm, about feeling wind respond to your command, that's just... intoxicating. Power, pure and simple.
I created a small flame in my hand, watching it dance across my fingers without burning. Control was getting easier. Precision, too.
I'd even started developing my own spells—nothing too crazy yet, but unique combinations that played to my strengths. A mana-infused punch that created a concussive shockwave on impact? Definitely my favorite so far.
After manifesting a dozen Senzu beans (enough for any emergency), I'd shifted my focus. Now all three manifestation slots were dedicated to Laevateinn—that apocalyptic fire sword that makes even gods think twice. With the combined slots accelerating the process, it was down to just 60 days left. Two months, and I'd have a weapon capable of burning through... well, practically anything.
Just in time, too. The canon timeline was approaching, and I needed every advantage I could get.
My nightly devil hunts had gotten more efficient as well. No more just punching my way through problems. Now I had options—trapping them in magical barriers, hitting them with targeted elemental attacks, or just good old-fashioned magical enhanced beatdowns.
Hayama had noticed the change, of course. Nothing escaped that man.
"Your training sessions have become more... colorful," he observed one evening as I returned, slightly singed but victorious.
"Just expanding my skill set," I replied, rolling my shoulders. "Can't rely on brute force forever."
He nodded, expression neutral as always. "Indeed. Though perhaps less fire indoors would be advisable. The smoke detectors are quite sensitive. And this training area is designed to without outside forces not inside."
I had to laugh. Only Hayama could make "please don't burn down the mansion with your magical experiments" sound like a gentle suggestion about interior decorating.
"I'll keep that in mind," I promised.
With the grimoire, the armor, and my ongoing physical training, I was feeling more prepared than ever. The countdown to canon events continued—less than a year now before Issei's fateful meeting with Yuuma/Raynare.
Speaking of Issei, he was still... well, Issei. Perverted, loud, obnoxious, and somehow still endearing in his sheer commitment to being himself.
"Dude, dude, dude!" he practically tackled me in the hallway at school. "Have you seen the new transfer student? She's got legs for days!"
"I've been in meetings all morning," I replied, extracting myself from his grip. "Some of us have responsibilities."
"Yeah, yeah, Mr. Important Business Guy," he waved dismissively. "But seriously, you gotta see her. She makes the kendo team look like—"
"If you finish that sentence, they'll never find your body," I cut him off, hearing footsteps approaching. Sure enough, two kendo team members rounded the corner, giving Issei death glares as they passed.
"They love me," he whispered, completely oblivious. "They're just playing hard to get."
"They're playing 'how not to commit murder,'" I corrected. "And you're making it very difficult for them."
Issei just grinned, undeterred as always. "One day they'll see my charm. Just like one day I'll have my harem!"
If only he knew what was coming. The harem part might actually come true, but the price... well, it wasn't going to be pretty.
Sometimes I wondered if I should warn him. Drop some hint about suspicious girlfriends or tell him to avoid the park after dark. But changing the timeline could have consequences I couldn't predict. For all I knew, warning Issei might make things worse.
So I just shook my head and said, "Keep dreaming, buddy."
As I walked to class, I felt that familiar prickle on the back of my neck. The sensation of being watched. It had been happening more frequently lately—that feeling of eyes tracking me from somewhere just out of sight.
I casually glanced around, enhanced senses searching for anything unusual. Nothing obvious, but...
There. Just for a second. Faint but unmistakable.
Someone was definitely keeping tabs on me. Question was: who? And why?
Between devil meetings, magic training, stray devil hunting and mysterious stalkers, life had gotten considerably more complicated since that dinner three months ago.
And something told me it was only going to get more interesting from here.