Early Morning.

My internal clock is a precision instrument, honed by years of grueling training. Usually, I wake up right on schedule, take a moment to appreciate the sight of Miwa’s peaceful sleeping face, and then head out for my morning run.

But today, the routine went off the rails.

Specifically, because of what was currently sitting on my stomach.

“Oh! He’s awake! Good morning, Issei!”

“Good morning, Issei-san.”

Two young girls were perched right on my gut. One was a fiery redhead with energy to spare; the other, a girl with soft light-blue hair and a gentle demeanor. They looked to be about second-graders, and they were straddling my midsection like it was a park bench.

“Uh… morning, Sally, Feena,” I croaked, blinking the sleep from my eyes. “What… exactly are you doing?”

These two were the fairies contracted to Lieselotte. Apparently, they can manipulate their own mana to alter their size, ranging from “palm-sized” to “elementary schooler.” Considering they used to serve literal divine spirits, I suppose a little biological scaling shouldn’t surprise me.

So, the size change wasn’t the shock. The question was the intent.

“I asked what you’re doing.”

“Sitting on Issei’s tummy!” Sally chirped.

I can see that! That wasn’t the question!

Feena offered a sheepish, apologetic smile. “Well, we heard you always wake up at this time, so we came to get you… and then Sally just…”

“Plaaaay with me!” Sally shouted, lunging forward to hug me. She started tugging at my pajamas and messing with my hair with the reckless abandon of… well, a child.

Is she actually a kid?! I mean, she looks like one, sure, but she’s a legendary spirit-servant! And it’s not even 5:00 AM! Where does this much energy even come from?

As I was mentally reeling from the dawn-patrol ambush, Miwa stirred beside me, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

“Nnn… yawn… Morning, Big Brother…”

As she stretched, the buttons on her pajama top—having apparently surrendered during the night—gave way. Since she doesn’t wear a bra to bed, the movement was… pronounced. A flash of soft, healthy pink peeked through the gap in the fabric.

A gift from the gods! Thank you, universe! I thought, my brain briefly short-circuiting. Miwa’s “growth” really is something else. As her brother, I’m… proud? Yeah, let’s go with proud.

Miwa’s sleepy gaze finally landed on the two girls sitting on my stomach.

A heavy silence filled the room. Then—

“Wait… has my brother finally awakened to the ‘little girl’ attribute? Is this a morning raid?!” Miwa gasped, suddenly wide awake.

“Wait, why is her shirt open?!” Sally pointed an accusing finger at Miwa. “Hold on, did you guys just finish havin’ se—”

“Sally! You absolutely cannot say things like that in the morning!” Feena squealed, covering Sally’s mouth.

And so, my day began with a frantic, high-pitched commotion.

(For the record: the buttons were missing because I apparently undid them in my sleep. My bad.)

By the time I finished my morning training and sat down for breakfast, my mental stamina was already in the red.

Ever since the incident with the Church coup faction, the number of people gathered around our dining table had grown significantly. Joining us were the four I’d brought back from Ast Arde: the old man Maurice, Lieselotte (Leisha), and the two fairies, Sally and Feena.

Initially, Maurice had been hesitant about moving in.

“Look, kid, this place is basically your personal harem, right?” he’d said with a smirk. “An old guy like me crashing in the middle of all these young flowers? It’s bad for the scenery.”

He had a point. Aside from my dad and me, the house was packed with world-class beauties. Having a grizzled veteran in the mix did change the vibe. But the man was my savior and one of my mentors. I wasn’t about to kick him to the curb for something that trivial.

Though, I did almost kill him once when he joked, “Does this mean I’m part of the harem now?” The sheer mental image made me bolt for the bathroom to dry heave.

Ultimately, my parents were the ones who insisted he stay. They wanted to thank the man who took care of their son, and they were dying to hear “Issei stories” from his perspective. Lately, the three of them—Mom, Dad, and Maurice—had been spending their nights bonding over sake.

“Man, last night was a riot,” Dad said, grinning at Maurice. “I never knew Issei was capable of that.”

Capable of what?! What kind of stories are you telling them, old man?!

“He had his moments,” Maurice replied with a knowing glint in his eye. “The kid worked harder than he looks.”

Beside him, Leisha was happily sipping her miso soup. “Ufufu. I never expected Alice to become so bold. She’s really grown up.”

By “bold,” she was referring to the fact that Alice had insisted on scrubbing my back in the bath yesterday. It’s becoming a regular occurrence, but thinking back to the Alice I first met… yeah, she’s definitely changed.

But then, Leisha’s smile turned mischievous.

“Then again, she did fill that diary of hers with page after page of her feelings for Issei. As her sister, nothing makes me happier than seeing her love bear fruit.”

“KYAAAAAAAAH! DON’T SAY THAT! STOP IT!” Alice shrieked, her face turning a shade of red that rivaled a ripe tomato.

“I believe one entry was: ‘I got to nap next to Issei! My heart won’t stop pounding!’ How’s the heart doing today, Alice?”

“STOP! NO MORE EXPOSURE! MY SOUL IS DYING!” Alice wailed, her hands flying out to cover Leisha’s mouth while her head shook so fast it was a blur.

A diary… I knew she’d been writing in one during our journey, but I had no idea it was that specific. According to Leisha, it was essentially an “Issei Observation Log.”

Honestly? Hearing that she’d written down every little thing—holding hands, being carried on my back—was flattering. But it was also incredibly embarrassing.

“Hauuu…” Alice whimpered, melting into her seat.

Dammit! She’s too cute when she’s embarrassed. It’s a lethal weapon.

“Man, she really has changed,” Maurice muttered, crunching on a pickled radish. “I wonder how Nina would react if she saw her sister like this.”

Nina… yeah, she’d probably tease Alice relentlessly. A younger sister couldn’t let a transformation like this slide without some serious ribbing.

Maurice set his chopsticks down and looked around at the group. “Anyway. I’m going to give you lot a lesson later. Make sure Kiba’s there, too.”

At those words, the faces of the Occult Research Club members went pale.

“Alright. Looks like everyone’s here.”

Maurice stood in the center of the Gremory underground training field, his twin swords strapped to his waist. Arrayed before him were the members of the ORC and the Student Council, all clad in tracksuits. We’d tried to invite the other D×D members, but they were busy—except for our leader, Dulio, who was apparently off on another solo food tour.

“I watched your fight the other day,” Maurice began, his gaze sharp. “Your movements were solid. For your age, you’re all exceptionally skilled. But… the enemy isn’t going to wait for you to grow up.”

The Qlippoth forces, led by Walburga, had deployed evil dragons and even clones of myself. While Rias and the others had handled it, the general consensus was that it could have easily turned into a bloodbath if things had gone slightly differently.

“The enemy is getting stronger. They’re using the Grail and the Red Dragon’s power. The fights coming your way are only going to get uglier,” Maurice continued. “So, I’m going to put you through the wringer. I can’t make you masters overnight, but I can show you exactly where you’re lacking. Kiba, Zenovia, Irina—step up. You’re first.”

The three “swordsmen” of our group stepped forward. They had crossed blades with Maurice back in the other world, and Irina had sparred with him while I was off training with my master. They knew what was coming.

“We’re ready,” Kiba said, his voice steady.

“Don’t expect it to go like last time!” Zenovia added, drawing her blades.

The three took their stances. Kiba, having reached the Second Stratum, held a Holy-Demonic sword shaped like a katana. Zenovia dual-wielded Durandal and Excalibur, while Irina held Hauteclaire. They had all grown significantly since their last encounter with the Saint.

Meguri-san, Sona’s “Knight,” leaned toward me. “Is he… really going to take all three of them at once? Issei-kun, isn’t that a bit reckless?”

Aside from Saji, the Sitri peerage hadn’t seen Maurice in action. They knew how strong our Sword Squad was—they were high-class devil tier, easy. Kiba, in particular, was reaching for even higher peaks.

I just gave a dry laugh. “Honestly? I’m worried it’s still not enough of a challenge for him.”

The match began.

Kiba moved first. He was a blur of silver, closing the distance with the god-like speed of a ‘Knight.’ Realizing a head-on clash was suicide, he moved in a jagged zigzag, trying to overwhelm Maurice’s perception.

Just as he entered striking range, Kiba produced a series of afterimages. He vanished, reappearing instantly at Maurice’s left flank.

“HAH!”

A perfect, high-speed horizontal draw—

CLANG.

Maurice’s sword was already there, blocking the strike before it could connect.

“…!” Kiba’s eyes widened. It wasn’t just that he couldn’t see the draw; it was that Maurice had read his “unreadable” speed with casual ease.

“You’ve gotten faster, kid,” Maurice chuckled, holding the blade steady. “But no matter how fast you go, you’re still broadcasting exactly where you’re headed.”

Maurice’s right hand moved. With a flick, he parried a heavy overhead strike from Zenovia. She had coated Durandal and Excalibur in a dense holy aura, intending to crush him with sheer destructive power. He swatted it away like he was shooing a fly.

——————————-

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