The morning continued, and Kazuya tackled the rest of his classes like someone who'd already beaten the game and was now just watching the cutscene.
Math came next, and honestly, it felt like an insult to his intelligence after what he'd just done on the science test. The teacher explained logarithm properties as if unraveling an ancient mystery, while he jotted notes out of politeness, with the same energy as someone signing a contract without reading it because they already know they'll win either way.
During History, he amused himself watching one of the back-row veterans try to sleep with his eyes open.
Between classes, Kazuya spent some time on his phone, which, yes, he'd inherited from his predecessor but hadn't used much because he was too busy with the whole reincarnation deal. He downloaded a gacha game, spinning the gacha for a magical idol game he swore he only played "for the story." Three pulls. Three duplicate characters. The frustration was so intense he had to take a deep breath to avoid cursing out loud. The universe had blessed him with intelligence, looks, and even magical powers in this new life… but still made him suffer with drop rates. Cosmic justice, perhaps.
Finally, the lunch bell rang.
And with it, an epiphany.
"Oh."
He froze for a second.
"I… forgot to make lunch yesterday."
Hunger hit with the force of a Big Bang Attack. Kazuya stood up with the calm of a warrior who'd already accepted his fate. He pocketed his phone, grabbed his wallet, and headed to the cafeteria, ignoring the chatter around him, like an anime protagonist marching to face the final boss: the curry rice line.
Kuoh Academy's cafeteria was as lively as ever. Groups formed at the tables: otakus, athletes, club members, random people…
He grabbed the cheapest combo: rice, miso soup, and a somewhat sad croquette. He sat in a quieter corner near the window, where he could see the blue sky and pretend his life wasn't an isekai where he had to deal with demons, gacha, and absurdly dangerous girls in love with him.
"Oh, Ryougi-san, alone again?" came a sweet voice.
He looked up. It was one of the girls from Rias's fan club. Gentle smile. Sparkling eyes. Stealing oxygen.
"Habit…" he replied, polite but brief.
She blushed, giggled, and scurried off as if she'd just heard a confession. Kazuya sighed. Real-life fan service. Dangerous.
The food was decent. Nothing special, but enough to sate a reincarnated otaku's hunger. When he finished, he returned for the afternoon classes: philosophy and PE.
Philosophy? Well… it was just a matter of not falling asleep and pretending existence made sense.
But PE was where the chaos returned.
It was athletics day.
All the boys had that defeated air of knowing that running under the April sun wasn't anyone's definition of "fun."
Kazuya, on the other hand, showed up in the school's shirt, track pants, and… muscles.
Not ordinary muscles.
Muscles sculpted by Greek gods, the result of a reincarnated body with physical prowess at the level of "my abs have more definition than Evangelion's plot."
When he took off his jacket and revealed a physique à la Toji Fushiguro in Jujutsu Kaisen assassin mode, there was silence.
And then…
"For the love of God…" muttered one of the veterans.
"How does someone look like that?! He's got a V in his muscles! A V!"
"Man… I'm questioning my masculinity."
"Shut up and keep staring!"
The girls, meanwhile, didn't bother hiding it. There were squeals. There were sighs. There was even one who fainted, though maybe it was dehydration—but Kazuya suspected it was something more hormonal.
Rias and Akeno? He could feel the burning desire in their eyes, though the redhead had already seen him shirtless and, thinking about it, had impressive self-control… Sona blushed, on the other hand, but didn't look away.
The activity was simple: endurance running. One hundred meters, then two hundred. Kazuya? He completed both like he was strolling to grab the remote. No sweating. No panting. He even helped a classmate up after they tripped.
The teacher looked at him like he'd just witnessed the birth of the next Olympic champion.
"Have you ever considered joining the track team?"
"I've also considered summoning a dragon with a gacha ticket. But, you know… priorities."
The teacher fell silent, pondering whether that was sarcasm, poetry, or pure insanity.
With the class over, the sun began to set, and the air took on that golden hue of late afternoon that made everything look prettier, even the school bills.
Kazuya grabbed his backpack, slung it over his shoulder, and left the locker room with the same calm air of someone who'd survived another school day… even if, technically, he was an isekai protagonist with gacha powers, parallel memories, and a physique that made even the real world's NPCs glitch.
And it was only Tuesday.
Tough life, huh?
He walked leisurely through Kuoh's streets, the sky painted in shades of orange and gold reflected in the buildings. A gentle breeze swayed the tree branches, and he savored that brief moment of calm like a proper anime protagonist would: with dramatic introspection and an imaginary emotional soundtrack.
His conversation with Rias during the break echoed in his mind. She'd approached with that noble, concerned air, the kind of presence that made even the school's fluorescent lights seem more sophisticated around her, saying she couldn't come to his place because she had some family matters to resolve. That was it. A restrained smile, a more serious look than usual… and done. The rest was left to his imagination, which, let's be honest, wasn't a great idea when you have an otaku mind fueled by years of fanfics and school romance anime.
She seemed worried. He noticed the way her brow furrowed, as if something big was about to blow up, and, being the world of High School DxD, it probably was.
"Must be that engagement with Risotto…"
"Riser."
"Right. The talking roasted chicken."
Kazuya sighed, kicking a pebble on the asphalt. The truth? He didn't care. Rias was amazing, powerful, intelligent, and all that… but the original script was constantly at risk of being thrown out the window ever since he reincarnated. Maybe Issei wouldn't even become a demon this time. Unless, of course, Kiba invited him with that smile that defied all definitions of 'ambiguity.'
"Zehahahaha…" He laughed. A deep, sinister laugh, worthy of Blackbeard himself in a moment of evil epiphany. A few passersby subtly stepped away when they heard it.
"My fault, huh?" he murmured, pretending to hit his head with a closed fist. "Sorry, Issei. I didn't mean for you to fall for Kiba… but, let's be real, the guy's too pretty for this world."
The mental image of Issei dramatically confessing to Kiba amid swirling sakura petals nearly made him trip from laughing so hard. *'For you, Kiba-kun, I'd abandon boobs!'* That should become a catchphrase.
He stopped in front of a vending machine, grabbing a can of iced coffee with a mechanical clack, and leaned against a nearby pole while taking a sip. He reflected, in silence, on how fragile the timeline was.
His apartment wasn't far. A simple but functional building. He climbed the stairs as if ascending the steps of the Temple of Time, each one a reminder that he needed to pull something really good tomorrow or he'd lose it.
The sound of the apartment door opened with a soft click, followed by the creak of wood as Kazuya pushed it inward.
He stepped inside with the calm of someone expecting a quiet night, complete with a hot bath, backlog anime, and a few more failed gacha pulls. After all, hope was the last to die. Right before the wallet.
But what he found made him freeze in the doorway like he'd just stepped into a Rank EX magical trap.
"Welcome back, Master…" came a melodious, dangerously provocative voice.
There she was.
Ishtar.
She was wearing pajama shorts so short they had no right to be—a mix of a crime against sanity and a divine gift to mortal eyes. Her tight top revealed a smooth, defined midriff, and the gleam of her golden jewelry contrasted with the simplicity of the fabric. She still wore her usual accessories: dangling earrings with the Mesopotamian Venus symbol, bracelets, and that adorned tiara that seemed to say, "I'm gorgeous, dangerous, and could probably blow up your apartment if you step wrong."
Her black hair was tied up high, in the same style as Rin Tohsaka, which only made everything worse. Or better.
She was fiddling with the microwave as if it were an Enki Golem from Uruk about to explode, though the dish inside was just frozen lasagna.
"You look surprised. Don't like seeing me?" She spun on her heels, that half-smile playing on her lips as if she were enjoying his mental collapse. "Or is it my outfit?"
He swallowed hard. Literally.
"I… uh… well… you…" Kazuya tried to form a sentence but sounded more like a modem dialing up in 2002.
Ishtar crossed her arms, the gesture accentuating her chest even more, which was utterly unfair.
"You're my Master, right? So I thought I should 'adapt' to the environment." Her tone was as innocent as a nuclear bomb with a 'sorry' note attached. "And before you complain, that lasagna was in the freezer. I didn't break into anywhere to get it."
Kazuya took a deep breath. Closed the door behind him.
"You know this isn't fair, right?" he muttered, tossing his backpack onto the couch.
"Hm? What? Me, wandering around the house in minimal clothing while I'm completely vulnerable, sweet, and at your mercy?" She approached with calm steps, playing with a strand of her hair.
"You memorized that speech, didn't you?"
"Maybe…" She laughed. The kind of laugh that should come with a warning: *risk of spontaneous cardiac combustion.*
She stopped in front of him. Her red eyes locked onto his, full of sparks and a hint of genuine affection. There was no doubt, no hesitation. To Ishtar, he wasn't just a Master. He was *her* Master. The one who'd won her heart in the battles of Uruk, the skies of Babylonia, the bad jokes, and the near-death moments. And now, here, in a modest Kuoh apartment, she was looking at him like it had all been worth it.
"Kazuya," she said, her tone softer now. "I know it must be strange for you, memories of a past life where you died to save everyone, and now you've managed to summon my sister and me again. It must all feel a bit weird, but you don't know how long I've waited to see that look again…"
And then he pulled her.
He grabbed her waist with one hand, pulling her close in one swift motion. The other hand slid to the nape of her neck, tangling in her tied-up hair. She gasped, surprised, just for a moment, before smiling with that fiery gleam in her eyes.
And then he kissed her.
Not a timid or hesitant kiss.
It was a hungry kiss. Intense. Laden with the weight of a passion that crossed worlds and reincarnations. His mouth met hers with firmness, and she yielded, their lips entwined in a hot, unrestrained dance. His tongue explored, demanding, and hers responded in kind, without shame, without restraint, as if they'd both waited lifetimes for this.
Her hands gripped his shoulders, then slid down his back, lightly scratching, sending shivers down his spine. The heat building between their bodies was almost magical—not literally, though with a goddess involved, that was possible—but in the sense that it made the air around them vibrate, as if the world had paused to watch.
When their lips parted, both were breathless.
She smiled, a satisfied, warm, and slightly victorious smile.
"Finally… I thought I'd have to summon Gugalanna to get you to act."
Kazuya gave a half-smile, still dizzy.
"You don't play fair, Ishtar."
"I'm a goddess, Kazuya. We invented the concept of cheating."
The lasagna beeped in the microwave. A sharp, almost annoying sound, like an "moment over" cue straight out of an anime script.
But neither of them moved.
They were still pressed together by the heat of a kiss that seemed to have melted half his logic and every "Master-Servant relationship" protocol Chaldea had ever tried to enforce.
Kazuya looked at Ishtar with a faint smile.
After everything he'd been through… after so many losses, so many battles… after accepting that he was, indeed, a luckier, more functional version of Ritsuka Fujimaru, he'd decided to stop fighting the improbable.
After all, how could he resist something that had crossed entire lifetimes to reach him?
That's when he heard the sound of the bedroom door opening.
And a delicate voice, soft as the breeze of a shadowy garden, echoed behind them.
"That's not fair, Ishtar…"
He turned.
There she was.
Ereshkigal.
Wearing white pajama shorts that barely covered half her thighs and a light blue top slightly longer than her sister's, just enough to make it clear she'd chosen something more modest… but only slightly. Her ruby eyes were half-lidded, and her flushed face betrayed that it wasn't just jealousy. It was wounded pride, guilt, and that adorable kind of embarrassment that made any otaku's heart want to bash itself against a wall.
Her blonde hair was loose, framing her shoulders like a mantle of golden light.
"I was summoned today too, you know?" she murmured, looking at the two of them. "It's not fair… you acting like that with her… and ignoring me."
Ishtar rolled her eyes.
"Oh, please, are you going to make a scene just because he has good taste?"
"I-Ishtar!" Ereshkigal stammered, her fists clenching at her sides. "That's not… you know I… I like him too."
Kazuya watched the scene with a faint smile tugging at his lips. For a moment, just one, he felt like he might've pulled something rarer than SSRs that day.
He'd gained something far more precious.
Genuine affection. Love from two goddesses. No gacha could compete with that.
"Ereshkigal."
She looked up, surprised.
He walked toward her with slow but deliberate steps. And when he stopped in front of her, he didn't give her time to say anything else.
His hand found her waist, pulling her close, and the other gently cupped her cheek. Her face turned scarlet, her eyes wide, her lips parted as if her system had crashed. He didn't hesitate.
And he kissed her.
Not as an apology.
Not as a consolation prize.
It was a real kiss.
Full of feeling. A firm yet gentle touch, deep as the halls of the underworld Ereshkigal ruled. His mouth met hers in a soft but soon demanding fit, as if challenging every divine pact and rule. She gasped against his lips, her body trembling slightly in surprise, but she didn't pull away.
On the contrary, her arms slowly rose, wrapping around his shoulders until they locked behind his neck. She pulled him closer, and then she responded, timidly at first, but with a sweet intensity that sent shivers down his spine. Her tongue met his, hesitant and warm, and when he deepened the kiss, she let out a soft moan, lost in the moment.
Ishtar, across the room, raised an eyebrow so hard it nearly activated her Noble Phantasm.
"Okay, this is just personal provocation now."
When Kazuya and Ereshkigal parted, her eyes were shining with emotion. Her cheeks flushed, her lips slightly wet. She smiled shyly, resting her forehead against his.
"Thank you… for not leaving me out."
"How could I leave you out?" Kazuya murmured, his fingers brushing her cheek with a tenderness that completely contrasted with the fact that he was, technically, one of the most dangerous and destructive dragons in the multiverse. "You're important to me, Eresh… I missed you."
She blushed even more, her gaze sparkling with a mix of happiness and pure embarrassment. It was the kind of expression that reminded Kazuya why it was worth moving forward, even when life felt like a gacha event with a 0.0001% chance.
Ishtar's voice shattered the moment like a bolt from Uruk.
"Tch. Alright, I get it. Kissing in my face, live humiliation." She crossed her arms, huffing with a pout as adorable as it was dangerous. "And here I am, spending my jewels to make lasagna for an idiot Master who doesn't appreciate this goddess and worship me with the respect I deserve."
Kazuya rolled his eyes hard enough to, for a moment, activate his Passive Skill: Slice-of-Life Protagonist Patience.
"Ishtar…" he said, stepping to the side and facing her with that half-mocking, half-affectionate smile. "I'll be honest. The gesture was cute, but you know that microwave lasagna has more chemistry than something Da Vinci would whip up on a Friday night, right? And honestly? One of these days, I'll treat you both to a proper dinner. Something worthy of goddesses."
He paused for a moment. His brain, always in 'gacha gamer survival mode,' processed the idea with a silent pang of terror.
"…I'm gonna need money for that."
Since he'd taken over the body of an orphan in this world, his bank account was broke.
"Ridiculous…" he muttered, but this time to himself, sighing. "One of the most powerful beings in the world, and I still have to budget for delivery."
Luckily, only he heard that—he didn't want to make a bad impression on his two Servants.
Ishtar raised an eyebrow, softening just a bit. "So you're saying you'll take us out to dinner like a good Master?"
"Like a good… boyfriend?" Kazuya said, half-teasing, half-testing the word.
Ishtar's eyes widened for a second. Ereshkigal choked silently.
"Hey, hey," he raised his hands. "Calm down before you say anything. I just thought… well, maybe it's time to stop pretending this is just a 'Servant-Master bond.' It's not."
The two goddesses exchanged a look. The silence that fell wasn't uncomfortable—it was heavy with unspoken feelings.
Though he'd been with both during the Seventh Singularity thanks to the mod he'd installed in the game, and had kind of been their lover through the rest of Fate/Grand Order's story, he hadn't removed the Master-Servant relationship status. And now that this was real life, he wanted to make it more real, hence his suggestion.
Ishtar was the first to recover, puffing out her chest (unnecessarily) and pointing at him with that fiery, competitive gleam in her eyes:
"If you're taking me to dinner, it better be somewhere with decent wine. And dessert, got it?"
"Sure, sure," Kazuya grumbled, already mentally calculating how many times he'd have to risk his life by the end of the month to afford it.
Ereshkigal gently tugged at his sleeve, smiling shyly. "Can we go together… just the three of us?"
"Of course," he replied softly. "You're part of my life now. Whether we're in Uruk, Babylonia, Chaldea, or Kuoh… wherever we are, it's the three of us."
Both smiled—one with pride and fire in her eyes, the other with tenderness and a touch of dreaminess on her lips.
And the microwave, poor thing, kept beeping behind them. Ignored. Defeated. A victim of a divine love triangle with more emotional power than an anime finale.
And in that small apartment, in a world where angels, demons, and dragons bickered like it was a collectible card game, Kazuya—diehard otaku, master of goddesses, legendary dragon, and former Fujimaru from a past life—simply smiled.
After all, sometimes, the best reward from a gacha… was what came after the SSR.