[7] : He No Longer Remembers

Because he got held up by Kiryuu Aika in the classroom, Bokue Keikain didn't arrive until fifteen minutes after the final bell.

The location of his club activities—or more accurately, the "Occult Research Club" he participates in—isn't some ordinary classroom in the main school building. Instead, it takes place in the old schoolhouse behind the campus.

Though calling it an "Old schoolhouse" might be underselling it.

Typically, an image of an old school building calls to mind a run-down structure from decades ago—peeling walls, a sagging entrance that looks ready to collapse at any second, shattered windows (or ones missing altogether), and rusty bunk beds strewn with trash in every partitioned room.

But Kuoh Academy's old schoolhouse is a pleasant little Western-style building. It may be wooden, and it's weathered many years, yet it still stands strong. Ivy creeps along the western wall, blending beautifully with the surrounding greenery in the sunlight.

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When Bokue arrives on the ground floor, the second-floor window is wide open. Seated by that window is a crimson-haired girl whose face and figure rival even Nurse Hasegawa's—she rests her elbow on the windowsill and props her cheek in her palm, gazing off into the distance, lost in thought.

Judging by how still she is, she must be in a serious daydream.

Bokue watches from below for a moment, then finally raises his voice a bit.

"Rias."

"Wha—?!"

It's like her wandering mind is yanked back to reality. The redhead at the second-floor window flusters for an instant before instinctively following the voice downward.

At the sight of Bokue's face, Rias breaks into a bright smile. She gently pats her ample chest—fingertips rippling across that full curve as though skimming the surface of water.

"Bokue, you're here! I was just wondering when you'd arrive—come on in, I'll head down."

"Sure."

He gestures OK, then steps inside the old schoolhouse.

As mentioned, despite being called an old schoolhouse, it's more akin to a small Western home, complete with a reception area on the first floor—normally used for club gatherings.

And indeed, when Bokue enters the reception room, everyone else is already there.

The spacious reception area has two large couches facing each other, each about six feet from either wall, with a coffee table in between. Up front is a wide desk. The Rias he'd just seen at the window is now here, leaning elegantly against that desk with her arms folded.

Seated on the left couch are two more girls:

One has sleek black hair done in a high ponytail. Her face is lovely, and the slight downturn of her eyes suggests a gentle, wifely warmth.

Her bust rivals—or even surpasses—Rias's.

The other, in contrast, is not voluptuous at all. Compared to the two "Older sister" types in the club, she's distinctly petite… actually, she's petite even without the comparison. White hair clipped short just above her shoulders, adorned with a small black cat-ear hairpin, she sits quietly on the couch, nibbling at a slice of cake.

"Sorry I'm late, Akeno-senpai… Koneko. Got held up a bit on the way here."

Briefcase in hand, Bokue steps into the reception area and takes a seat on the right-hand couch, placing the case on the coffee table.

Hearing the words "Akeno-senpai,"

Her gaze flickers, growing briefly pensive. Instead, the small white-haired girl beside her pauses mid-bite of cake, raises her head, and softly murmurs acknowledgment—"Mm."

With everyone now accounted for, Rias pushes away from her desk and walks over, settling beside Bokue on the right couch.

"All right, first off—thank you for your help last night, Bokue. If it had been just me, Akeno, and Koneko, we might not have been able to catch that Stray Devil with so few people. Anyway, enough pleasantries—let's see what you brought. This is what you confiscated from the Stray Devil you took down, right? Hmm… why won't it open?"

She grips the briefcase's handle with one hand, the now-unlatched lock with the other—yet no matter how she tugs, it refuses to budge, as though the gap's been filled with superglue.

"Oh—sorry, almost forgot."

Bokue lightly taps his forehead, then presses his fingertip against the briefcase. The loose latch flickers with a bit of Golden spiritual energy—and instantly, the stubborn case pops open.

Inside, just as he'd seen last night and this morning, lies a dried, purple-black, human finger.

"What the—"

Rias blinks in surprise at the sight of a severed human finger.

Bokue shrugs. "Right, so originally the briefcase didn't have any seal. But, well, you know how it is—I live with Kuroka—Last night, while I was in the shower, she pried it open. Also, the finger itself had a bunch of old sealing talismans wrapped around it, but they were pretty much losing effectiveness. So I just tore those off and used the briefcase as a medium to make a new seal."

"As for its origin, I asked around on the internet. From what I gathered, it probably belongs to the Jujutsu Association, labeled a 'Special-Grade Sealed Object.' Can't really see what's so special about it though…"

"Let me take a closer look."

Before he can finish, Akeno stands up from the opposite couch. With Bokue's permission, she lifts the finger from the case and holds it under the antique chandelier's light, studying every angle.

After about half a minute, she exhales softly.

"Hmm… I'm not totally certain, but based on the shape of this finger and the mention of the Jujutsu Association, I suspect it belonged to Ryomen Sukuna, the King of Curses from a thousand years ago."

"You know about it, Akeno-senpai?" Bokue asks, a bit surprised.

"Yes…"

Himejima Akeno nods gently.

"Rias and Koneko already know this, but before I became a Devil under Rias, my mother was a priestess in the Himejima Clan. So I've read some of the clan's old records growing up. I wonder—did I ever mention that to you, Bokue-kun?"

He thinks for a moment, then shakes his head. "I don't recall anything like that, so probably not."

"I see. Well, now you know."

Akeno smiles—though there's a hint of melancholy behind that smile.

Indeed… He truly doesn't remember anymore.

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