The morning sun crept through the gaps in the curtains, casting a soft golden glow over the cluttered room. Posters of anime girls and idols adorned the walls, and empty snack wrappers littered the floor.
The sudden sound of a digital alarm clock pierced the silence, accompanied by the voice of a shrill tsundere girl yelling, "WAKE UP! WAKE UP! IF YOU DON'T WAKE UP I'M GOING TO K-KISS YOU...!"
A groan echoed from the futon sprawled across the floor.
"...Umm."
The boy opened his eyes, blinking against the light. The ceiling above him was unfamiliar, and a moment of confusion passed through his eyes. Then it hit him. A sharp, overwhelming pain tore through his mind—not physical, but mental—a flood of images, voices, memories that didn't belong to him.
A scream tore out of his throat.
"WHAT!!! I became Issei, the pervert!"
He scrambled to sit up, clutching his head, heart pounding as if it was trying to escape his chest. The memories weren't just faint echoes—they were vivid, as though he had lived them. Every embarrassing moment, every crude fantasy, every ounce of Issei Hyoudou's infamous personality had been injected into his very soul.
"And I crossover after Rias made this body her servant... what kind of fate is this?"
His hands trembled as he looked at them, still adjusting to the weight, the size—everything felt slightly off, slightly wrong. Not painful, but different. Like wearing clothes that didn't quite fit right. His chest heaved as he tried to breathe normally, but panic still clutched his lungs.
"And why can't I remember my previous name... or anything?"
No matter how hard he tried to recall who he had been before this moment—before the park, before the betrayal, before the spear through the gut—there was nothing. Of course, he knows that this is novel world and such, the only thing can't remember is his personal things.
It was terrifying.
"Damn... I need some boobs..."
He slapped a hand over his mouth instantly, horrified.
"What the hell?! I even got his perverted fantasies?!"
He was interrupted by the sound of hurried footsteps. A familiar voice called up the stairs.
"Wake up! Ise!"
It was warm, motherly—loving. His heart flinched.
Why did it feel so real? Why did the word "Mum" bring a sudden sense of comfort?
"I know! I will get up now!" he replied instinctively, his voice cracking slightly from nerves and confusion.
Even as he answered, he hated how natural it felt. Like some part of Issei still lived inside him, like his instincts were slowly being overwritten.
Hesitantly, he stood up. His legs were wobbly, but strong. His balance was slightly off, but the muscle memory kicked in. The room was embarrassingly teenage: anime merchandise, a suspiciously placed tissue box, and more than a few magazines that made his face burn. He quickly looked away.
He stepped toward the mirror hanging on the closet door. Staring back at him was Hyoudou Issei's face. The hair, the skin, the slightly dopey eyes—but behind them, something else now lurked. Him.
Or what was left of him.
He touched his face. It felt real. Too real. The weight of it, the warmth, the smell of morning breath—all of it confirmed that this wasn't a dream. He really was inside Issei Hyoudou's body.
Memories continued to trickle in.
A beautiful girl with silky black hair. A perfect date. Holding hands. Laughing. Her smiling face under the sunset.
"Will you die for me?"
That line echoed again.
His stomach clenched. He remembered the pain—the burning hole in his abdomen, the warmth of his own blood soaking his hands. Then came her cold eyes, her wings, the light spear, and then... her.
Crimson.
That hair. That smile. That voice.
She had saved him. Or maybe she just picked up the pieces of what remained.
And now here he was.
He stumbled over to the window and opened it slightly, letting the morning breeze hit his face. Everything outside looked so... normal. Birds chirping, cars passing, kids walking to school in uniform.
The normalcy of it was infuriating. Like the world hadn't even noticed he'd died.
He looked down at his hands again.
Was he just supposed to live Issei Hyoudou's life? Go to school, flirt with girls, drool over breasts, and pretend nothing happened? What about the Sacred Gear that girl—Yuuma?—had mentioned? What about the devil that had claimed him?
He could feel it now. Something in his chest. A faint, pulsing warmth. It wasn't a heartbeat, but it throbbed with life, like a hidden core.
A knock came at his door. "Ise! Breakfast is ready!"
"Coming!"
Again, the response slipped from his lips before he could stop it.
He sighed, dragging a hand through his messy brown hair. He wasn't ready to face whatever insanity this world had in store, but he didn't have much of a choice. For now, he'd play the part. He'd figure things out. There was no other path.
But one thing was clear—he wasn't Issei.
Maybe I should make a harem for myself.
Straightly I was not rippled by the idea. Heck, the very thought made me somehow happy.
Weird, Weird.
~~~