High School DxD: Fox of Ill Omen

Kusari

The first day of class after a battle always felt wrong.

Not because anything in the classroom had changed.

Because nothing had.

The desks were where they had always been.

The teachers still wrote with the same chalk.

The clock still dragged its hands across the wall like it had all the time in the world.

Kiryuu-san still said things that made Asia turn red.

Murayama-san still got too energetic and had to be reigned in by Katase-san.

Motohama-san and Matsuda-san both received glares for their stares and comments they directed at the girls of the class.

Issei still spoke like a man who had never once met shame and learned nothing from each time he was struck for it.

We still sat through our mundane classes. We still talked to the humans in our class. We ate lunch and poked fun at each other and laughed.

Somehow all of the perfectly ordinary parts of life continued after Kokabiel.

After learning the truth about God.

After the encounter with the White Dragon Emperor.

After I nearly convinced Rias to abandon me with an enemy I had no chance of surviving.

By the time classes ended and I made my way toward the old school building like always.

But there was a difference in it now that had settled into something quieter and harder to name.

The clubroom already smelled like tea when I entered.

Of course it did.

Rias-Buchou sat at the center of the room with the kind of ease only she could make look effortless.

Akeno stood near the window smiling at everyone, which usually meant she was watching everything.

Koneko was eating snacks while in her seat.

Yuuto was reading something that I doubted had actually held her attention for more than a minute.

Xenovia-san was a new addition to the club room.

She stood too straight to look at home and too still to be truly uncomfortable.

Asia was setting out cups.

Issei was talking.

That part was also extremely normal.

“—and I’m telling you, Matsuda brought it on himself,” he said.

“He did,” Asia agreed.

Yuuto lowered her book. “That sounded like a very calm endorsement of violence.”

Asia blinked. “N-No! That wasn’t what I meant! I promise!”

“It was close enough,” Koneko said.

“Not you too Koneko-chan!”

Asia was already flustered.

Xenovia looked at Issei. “What did he do?”

“He made a rude comment to Kiryuu-san,” I said before Issei could dramatize it into something more embarrassing.

Xenovia-san considered that.

“…Then yes. He caused it.”

Issei pointed at her in outrage. “Why is everyone siding against male solidarity!?”

“Because there wasn’t any solidarity to begin with,” Akeno said sweetly.

Rias laughed softly.

The room eased around the sound of it.

Even here everything was pretty much the same as before.

Issei was still made fun of.

Asia was still easily flustered.

Koneko still expressionlessly made blunt comments and ate snacks.

Yuuto still calmly interacted with everyone.

Akeno still smiled like she was seconds away from teasing someone.

And Rias sat at her desk like always watching her peerage and laughing at the antics.

But there was a shift in her eyes when she looked at me.

That was new.

Then she looked at all of us, and the mood shifted from clubroom warmth to peerage business.

“Tonight,” she said, “we’ll be resuming taking our devil work contracts.”

That quieted everyone at once.

Even Issei.

Rias stood and moved to the desk where the contract slips had been arranged.

Red light from the evening sky caught in her hair and made her look even more like the sort of person who had been born to command rituals and people alike.

“A number of our recent contracts were delayed because of everything that happened,” she continued. “We’ll be handling them tonight.”

Then she looked at me.

“Kusari-chan.”

“Yes, Buchou.”

“This will be your first contract.”

The room paused.

That had not occurred to me until the instant she said it.

It was true.

Since joining the peerage, I had trained, fought, nearly died, been taken away, dragged back, fought more, and somehow become entangled in enough catastrophes that the ordinary labor of being a normal low-rank Devil had never arrived.

Until now.

Issei blinked. “Wait. She really hasn’t had one yet.”

Asia looked toward me with immediate sympathy, as if first contracts in a peerage were naturally frightening.

They weren’t.

Interesting, perhaps.

Not frightening.

“I see,” I said.

Koneko glanced up from her sweets. “Are you nervous?”

“No.”

Then I considered it for a moment.

“…Curious, perhaps.”

Yuuto smiled faintly. “That sounds like you.”

I looked at her for a moment.

Then Rias began distributing the contract slips.

One for Issei.

One for Asia.

One for Koneko.

One for Yuuto.

One for Akeno

Then mine.

I took the paper and read it once.

A girl.

Satō Tomomi

Middle-school age.

Minor grievance.

Ordinary domestic environment.

All useful information. 

Xenovia-san was still too new to the peerage to take on contract work as part of her Devil jobs.

She’d probably be handing out fliers tonight instead.

Rias gave her own slip a quick look as well, then set it down beside Akeno’s.

They would be leaving slightly after the rest of us.

The magic circles began to form one by one.

Red light spread beneath Koneko first.

Then Yuuto.

Then Asia.

My own circle shimmered into being after that, completing its lines and leaving Issei as the only one without a magic circle.

He looked insulted.

“Why am I the only one in the peerage who can’t teleport?”

“Do you really want that question answered?” I said

“Kusari-san, I’m suffering here! I have to answer my contracts on a bike!”

“It’s fine. I’ve heard great things about the bicycle Devil.”

Yuuto lowered her head and covered a laugh with a cough into her hand.

Koneko's eyes shone with amusement. 

Issei stared at me. “This in discrimination.”

Rias-Buchou looked at me from her seat at her desk.

“Good luck, Kusari-chan.”

I met her gaze.

“Yes, Buchou.”

And then the room dissolved.

The first thing I noticed was the color.

Pink.

Not aggressively, not enough to qualify as a crime, but enough to tell me I had arrived in the room of a human girl still young enough to treat her walls like statements of taste rather than compromises with a preference of decor.

The second thing I noticed was the girl.

She was sitting on her bed when the circle formed beneath me—magazine in hand, lamp on, hair still a little messy from whatever she had been doing before she decided to summon a Devil.

The moment she saw me, she screamed loud enough that I was mildly impressed.

I waited.

People tend to stop screaming eventually if one does not reward them.

She did.

Not quickly, but after screaming for a moment and realizing I had yet to actually do anything her scream slowly died off.

Luckily the summoning magic created a barrier around the contractor to prevent issues that could arise from being noticed.

By the time silence returned, she was staring at me with both hands half-raised to her mouth and the expression of someone trying very hard to decide whether panic or curiosity should win.

Her ears were also slightly pink in what must have been embarrassment. 

I inclined my head slightly.

“I have come to answered your contract,” I said. “My name is Kusari. I am a Devil of the Gremory peerage.”

She blinked.

Then rubbed at her eyes.

Then looked at me again.

“You’re real.”

“Yes.”

“You just… appeared.”

“Yes.”

“In my room.”

“That is where the contract led.”

She stared another second.

My Devil wings were out. I preferred to leave them out when dealing with contractors.

It made the idea that I was a devil more real. 

I had hidden my fox traits to remove the confusion my contractor would have on seeing a Kitsune Devil.

Then, because humans are wonderfully adaptable when their thoughts have no where to go, she sat up straighter and said, “Okay.”

Interesting.

Not fear, then. Or not only fear.

“Satō Tomomi, state your request,” I said.

That brought the grievance back to the surface immediately.

Her face tightened.

“I want you to curse my brother.”

There it was.

Straight to the point.

A good start.

“What did he do?”

“He stole money from my parents,” she said, voice growing sharper with every word now that she had remembered why she had wanted a devil in the first place.

“He used it on a date, then blamed me for taking it. My parents believed him, so now I’m grounded and he got away with everything.”

I looked at her for one measured second.

This was not some grand tragedy.

It was not a desperate plea for salvation or love or revenge worthy of real note.

It was exactly the kind of petty, human fury that made the world livable.

“What do you have in mind?” I asked. “For the curse.”

That startled her.

“I get to choose?”

“It’s your contract, so yes.”

I folded my hands in front of me.

“I could give him nightmares for several nights. Ruin his appetite. Turn his luck against him for a week. Make him develop sores and rashes. Cause embarrassing and harmful mishaps in public. There are also options involving hair loss, though those tend to lead to disproportionate emotional responses and family investigation.”

Her eyes widened more with each example.

Then she panicked.

“N-No! Nothing that bad!”

I paused.

She looked horrified now, which answered one useful question: she wanted petty revenge, not any real harm.

“I only want to mess with him,” she said quickly. “Not, like, ruin his whole life!”

Reasonable.

That was more direction than she gave before.

Now I had something to work from.

I thought for a moment.

Then slipped one hand into my sleeve and drew out a talisman.

Blank paper.

A little worn at the edges from travel.

I hardly used cursed talismans when fighting.

They were slow to take affect, had various restrictions, and had to be applied to the target in some way.

They weren’t ideal for a fight, but were perfect for my contractor’s need.

I held it between two fingers and whispered a short curse into it, just enough demonic power to stain the paper with dark lines as the sigil settled. 

Nothing elegant. 

Nothing special.

Nothing that would risk spiraling beyond its purpose.

It was something petty and slightly stupid.

Exactly for what my contractor wanted.

The girl watched with growing fascination.

I handed it to her.

She took it carefully, like it might bite.

“What does it do?”

“Place it on his person without him noticing,” I said. “Inside a jacket collar. Under a mattress. In a school bag. Somewhere it will remain in contact with him. For approximately one week, he will develop severe acne and an awful smell.”

She stared at me.

Then looked at the talisman again.

Then back at me.

“He’ll smell awful?”

“Yes.”

“How awful?”

“Enough to ruin any romantic or social life for a while.”

Her face lit up.

That was not the reaction of a good person.

I approved of it immediately.

“And the acne too?”

“Yes.”

“For a whole week?”

“If he does not find the charm.”

The girl looked as if I had handed her justice itself wrapped in paper.

“That’s amazing.”

“That’s one thing it could be called.”

She narrowed her eyes slightly, perhaps noticing the tone of my voice.

Then, wisely, chose not to object.

Instead she scrambled off the bed, crossed the room, and yanked open a drawer in her desk.

When she turned back, she had a wad of cash in her hands.

More than I expected.

She shoved it at me with both palms.

“This is the payment.”

I took it.

Then looked at her.

The amount was wrong for someone her age.

My expression must have shown the question, because she flushed and looked away.

“I, um…” She coughed. “I stole the rest of it from my brother. The money he took from my parents… and a little of his own he had stashed away.”

I looked at the money.

Then at the talisman in her hand.

Then at her.

This contract had a sort of simplicity I appreciated.

“I see,” I said.

She straightened a little, as if worried I might revoke the arrangement for moral reasons.

I did not.

As long as the contract’s payment is delivered I didn’t care.

Where it comes from is not my concern.

So I tucked the cash away.

“Satō Tomomi, the contract is complete.”

The circle beneath my feet began to form again at once, red lines spiraling upward across the floorboards and wall.

The girl clutched the talisman with both hands.

“Thank you! And you can call me Tomomi-chan! It sounds way cuter.”

I looked at her one last time.

“Be subtle, Tomomi-san.”

Then I vanished.

The clubroom returned in red light and familiar stillness.

I released my ears and tails now that I was safe to relax slightly.

I expected voices.

Issei objecting to something.

Akeno laughing at him.

Asia apologizing for something that happened during a contract that had probably not required apology.

Xenovia-san asking a question too direct for comfort.

Koneko’s spoon against a ceramic dish.

Yuuto calm voice answering a question

Instead there was only silence.

Rias-Buchou sat alone in the room.

No one else.

The tea set remained on the table.

Several cups had been used.

One chair sat slightly out of place, as if someone had risen from it not long ago.

Outside, evening had deepened enough that the windows reflected the room more strongly than the courtyard beyond.

She looked up as my circle faded.

“You’re back,” she said.

“Yes, Buchou.”

“How did it go?”

“A domestic revenge case,” I said. “A middle-school girl wanted her brother punished for theft and false accusation. I chose a proportional answer.”

Rias-Buchou’s brows lifted slightly. “Proportional?”

“Horrible acne. Offensive smell. One week.”

For one second, she looked very much like she wanted to laugh.

Instead, she only smiled.

“Very creative. Successful, then.”

“It appears so.”

The silence that followed was too deliberate to be ordinary.

She had waited and sent the others off while I was still handling my contract.

For me.

Not as [King]. 

As something else.

Or perhaps as both.

“I asked the others that are still handling contracts to teleport to their homes instead of here. I figured it would be best if they weren’t here right now.”

She looked composed, but on edge.

I decided to cut to the point.

“Why?”

“Kusari-chan,” she said softly, “we need to talk.”

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