I didn't sleep that night. Couldn't.
Instead, I sat in Dad's office - my office now - going through everything .
By morning, I had three cups of cold coffee and a growing list of questions that needed answers.
The official crash report was on my desk when Hayama brought breakfast I wouldn't eat. Pilot error, they said. Sudden storm, mechanical failure, tragic accident.
Bullshit.
I'd been on that plane dozens of times. Dad had trained with the best pilots money could buy. The maintenance records were perfect. And storms don't just appear out of nowhere over the Pacific without any weather service detecting them.
"Hayama," I called, not looking up from the report.
He appeared instantly, like he'd been waiting right outside. "Yes, young master?"
"I need to talk to our head of security. And I want the real employee files - not the sanitized versions."
He nodded without hesitation. "I'll arrange meetings with the supernatural personnel immediately, sir."
An hour later, I was sitting across from Yamamoto-san, our head of security. Normal-looking guy in his forties, expensive suit, calm demeanor.
"You wanted to see me, Mishima-sama?" His voice was respectful, but his eyes were calculating.
"I want to know what really happened to my parents."
He didn't even pretend to misunderstand. "The official report-"
"Is garbage." I leaned forward. "You're not human, are you, Yamamoto-san?"
"So you are already aware of the supernatural, Mishima-sama." A slight smile. "I am Yokai, actually. Tengu, but we've served the Mishima family since your grandfather."
"Then you understand why I need the truth."
His expression grew serious. "There were... irregularities. The flight plan was changed last minute. The storm appeared suddenly in an area of clear skies. The wreckage..." He hesitated.
"What about the wreckage?"
"Too complete. When planes crash in storms, debris spreads over miles. This was... contained. Almost like something gathered it all in one place."
My hands clenched into fists. "Magic."
"Likely. But proving it would be..." He spread his hands. "Difficult. The supernatural world has ways of covering its tracks."
Before I could respond, my office door opened. I was about to snap at whoever had walked in without permission when I froze.
Azazel walked in, looking exactly like he always did - casual clothes, easy smile, hands in his pockets. But something was different about his timing.
"Leon-kun," he said, his voice unusually gentle. "I heard about your parents. I'm truly sorry for your loss."
I stared at him for a moment.
Should I ask him for help? The thought crossed my mind immediately. Azazel had resources, connections, knowledge of the supernatural world that I desperately needed. If anyone could help me investigate my parents' death, it would be him.
But something held me back. Call it paranoia, call it instinct, but I couldn't shake the feeling.
What if he's involved? What if this is all part of some plan?
The thought made my stomach twist, but I couldn't ignore it.
"Thank you,"
Azazel's expression softened. "How are you holding up?"
"As well as can be expected." I kept my voice neutral, professional. "It's been... difficult."
"I can imagine." He glanced at Yamamoto, who had gone very still. "If there's anything I can do to help..."
"Actually, there is something I've been wondering about," I said.
"How did my grandfather manage it? Getting all these supernatural factions to cooperate with him?"
Azazel's eyebrows raised. "What do you mean?"
"I mean he was just a human. No powers, no special abilities. How did he convince devils and angels and gods to work together? To trust him with their secrets?"
A smile tugged at Azazel's lips. "Ah, that. Your grandfather was remarkable, but he didn't do it alone."
"What do you mean?"
"Your grandmother, Astrid Mishima. She was... special."
Grandma? My memories of her was vague to be honest.
I leaned forward. "Special how?"
"She was a Longinus wielder. Specifically, the Zenith Tempest."
I froze, I didn't expect that.
A Longinus. One of the thirteen most powerful Sacred Gears in existence. Tools capable of killing gods.
"She was powerful," Azazel continued. "She was unlike its previous wielders. And she was more than that, she had connections. Favors owed from different factions. She saved a lot of important people over the years."
"And when she married Grandpa?"
"Those connections became his. Those favors became leverage. That's how he was able to build the arrangement. Not through strength or intimidation, but through old debts and mutual respect."
It made sense. Perfect sense. And it explained why the supernatural world had accepted the Mishima family as neutral ground.
"I see," I said. "That explains a lot."
But even as I nodded and asked follow-up questions, I was watching Azazel carefully. Looking for tells, for signs, for anything that might give away what he really knew.
And I found... nothing.
Azazel's expression was perfectly genuine. His concern seemed real. His body language gave away nothing suspicious. Every micro-expression, every subtle tell I'd learned to read - they all pointed to someone who was exactly what he appeared to be.
A mentor offering support to his grieving student.
If Azazel was hiding something, I wouldn't be able to tell. Not with my limited experience reading supernatural beings. He'd been playing these games since before my great-great-great-grandparents were even born.
The guy's lived for millennia. He's had centuries to perfect the art of deception.
"Thank you," I said as he prepared to leave.
"Of course, Leon-kun. I'm here whenever you need me."
After he and Yamamoto left, I sat in silence for a long time.
I closed my eyes and reached into my Celestial Workshop, checking on my queue.
And there was Laevateinn.
Manifestation time remaining: 14 days.
It felt like forever. I needed to get stronger. Fast.
I pulled up my Workshop again, staring at the timer. Laevateinn was using all three slots to speed things up. But what if I could push it harder? Force it somehow?
Come on. There has to be a way.
I reached deeper into the Workshop, past the floating tools and glowing blueprints. Into the core where thoughts became real things.
I need power. I need it now.
The Workshop hummed around me. For a second, I thought something shifted. Like maybe the rules could bend if I wanted it bad enough.
But then everything snapped back. Same timer: 14 days.
Damn it.
Fine. If I couldn't speed up the sword, I'd work on everything else. Double my training. Triple it. Push my body until it broke, then push harder.
I sighed.
Two weeks. Just two more weeks.
Then.
Revenge.
I opened my eyes, staring out at the skyline. Somewhere out there were the people who had killed my parents.
They had no idea what was coming for them.
Just fourteen more days.
Then the real hunt would begin.
–
A week later, I finally returned to school.
A week of board meetings, legal paperwork, and corporate damage control. A week of pretending I knew what I was doing while the vultures circled. A week of barely sleeping, barely eating, barely functioning as I tried to hold together an empire.
But the company is stable now.
Walking through the gates of Kuoh Academy felt surreal. Like stepping back into a world that didn't matter anymore.
The stares started immediately. Whispers followed me down the hallway.
"That's Leon Mishima..."
"His parents died in that plane crash..."
"He looks terrible..."
"Poor guy..."
I kept my face blank, ignoring them all.
The classroom fell silent when I entered.
"Leon..." As I took my seat, I heard Issei.
"Hey, man. Good to have you back."
I looked at him. His usual goofy grin was gone, replaced by something like genuine concern.
"Thanks."
He opened his mouth like he wanted to say more, then seemed to think better of it. The rest of class, he kept shooting worried glances my way.
During lunch, I made my way to the roof, carrying the elaborate bento Hayama had prepared.
Koneko was already there, sitting in our usual spot. She looked up when I approached, those golden eyes taking in my appearance without comment.
I sat down beside her, opening the bento box. The food looked perfect, as always. But I had no appetite.
We sat in complete silence. She just sat there, her presence a comfort beside me.
I pushed food around in the box, managing a few bites.
After a while, she reached over and patted my head once. Gentle. Simple. The way she always did.
But this time, the touch carried something different. Comfort. Support. Like she was saying everything she couldn't put into words.
"Thank you," I said quietly.
She nodded once, then went back to eating like nothing had happened.
But I could feel her watching me sometimes.
When the bell rang, she stood up and waited while I packed away.
"Tomorrow,"
"Yeah. Tomorrow."
----
Author's Note:
So any suggestions on what item/weapon/armor you would like to see next?
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