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."
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