Chapter 8 – Shadows and Bows

Traitor.

That word didn't weigh as much for Motohama anymore—not after less than two hours ago, when his friends had been calling him that very thing.

He walked behind Issei and Matsuda, listening to the same old jealous shouting, the sarcastic taunts, and above all, Issei's happiness after being invited out by Amano Yuuma.

But this time… Motohama knew.

He knew exactly what would happen just ahead.

He knew who would emerge from the shadows.

While Matsuda yelled with tears of frustration in his eyes and Issei laughed nervously, Motohama walked in silence.

His eyes, hidden behind now-transparent glasses, held a cold, clinical gaze—like someone who had already seen this theater play out once… and ended up dead on the stage.

Not again.

 — Yeah, right… You must've done something abnormal… Don't tell me you got involved with the supernatural, — he said, like last time—but this time, his words carried no disbelief… only contempt.

Issei laughed nervously, sweating.

Matsuda too.

Suddenly, the "glow"—or rather, his Quincy instinct—screamed like a siren inside Motohama's mind.

There they were: spiritual threads slicing through the space ahead, vibrating like strings pulled to their absolute limit.

He raised his head, staring into the void of the dark street before them.

 — Something's wrong, — he said, his voice cold as tempered steel.

Issei and Matsuda looked at him, confused.

 — What is it, Motohama? — Issei asked, already sweating.

Motohama smiled… but it was a soulless, humorless smile. A dead smile.

And then… the shadows exploded.

Black chains appeared from nowhere—violent, lethal—but before they could touch any of them, someone stepped in the way.

A figure.

A body covered by a black sports jacket, cap, sunglasses, and a black mask hiding his mouth and nose.

He raised his left arm—with slight hesitation, the gesture tense and uncertain, more like a desperate reaction than the move of someone in control.

And then, with a sharp crack, the spiritual bow appeared: a translucent blue structure, incomplete at the edges, like freshly cracked glass.

 — Heilig… Bogen… — he whispered, and his voice, muffled behind the mask, betrayed his insecurity.

The black chains surged forward, but the masked figure—with rough, unpolished movements, lacking the grace of a master—fired three arrows, his hands slightly trembling, but accurate enough.

The arrows of pure blue energy sliced through the shadows… though the masked figure was breathing heavily, as if each shot drained more energy than it should.

The chains shattered with distorted howls.

Motohama, Issei, and Matsuda stood frozen, staring at that figure as if he were a ghost.

 — W-What…?! — Issei stammered.

 — Stay behind me… — the masked figure said, forcing a tone of confidence he didn't feel.

And then…

Kurogane Sato emerged from the shadows.

The same hood, the same grotesque mask, and that cursed dagger studded with living, writhing eyes.

The masked figure trembled, took a deep breath, trying to steady himself.

The bluish glow on his glasses was more a reflection from the bow than any real confidence.

 — As… expected… — he murmured to himself, gripping the bow tighter.

Name: Kurogane Sato

Race: Hybrid (Human/Hollow)

(Because being just human wasn't edgy enough… and because Hollowfication is the new black.)

Sacred Gear: Night Reflection

(Yes, a dark-themed Sacred Gear with a dramatic name… because the universe loves giving stylish weapons to emotionally unstable people.)

Rank: D — "D for Definitely not that powerful… yet."

Class: Hollow / Rookie

(Half murderous spirit, half dropout from the school of life… fully chaotic.)

Mark: Silver

Unique Abilities:

Description: Kurogane Sato doesn't belong to this reality. He's a Transmigrated—ripped from an ordinary world and thrown headfirst into the everyday hellscape that is the reality of High School DxD.

No reincarnation cycle, no comforting rebirth… he woke up inside the body of one of the survivors of the Holy Sword Project, the same twisted program Kiba Yuuto once escaped from.

Kurogane was blessed with everything a generic light novel protagonist needs: A handsome face. An overly confident personality. Shadow-based powers. A god acting as his personal guide. And an iron determination to do whatever it takes to survive… even if it means killing when necessary.

During his short but brutal journey so far, Kurogane survived the Dimensional Battlefield, an interdimensional war zone that almost killed him dozens of times. It was there that he honed his survival instinct, sharpened his swordsmanship, and… found the cursed dagger Koraikui, now both his greatest weapon and worst curse.

Cynical, pragmatic, and with a broken—but not entirely destroyed—moral compass, Kurogane justified stealing the Sacred Gears from Issei and Matsuda as a necessity. After all:

"I need power to survive this world and that Infernal Battlefield. In the end, it's better if I carry this burden… than leave the future of the world in the hands of an idiotic pervert like Hyoudou."

Kurogane hesitated for a second.

 — Quincy? — His voice sounded genuinely surprised.

But the masked figure didn't answer. He shot—abruptly, almost desperately.

Two arrows tore through the air, disintegrating the shadow hounds just as they began to materialize.

 — No… you're not… touching them… the masked figure hissed, conjuring another arrow even with heavy arms and ragged breath.

Kurogane smiled wryly.

 — Honestly, I didn't want to do this either… but maybe I'm doing the world a favor. And you really think they… deserve to be protected? Them… that scum?

But the masked figure charged forward.

Not with a master's grace, but with the reckless desperation of someone who refuses to watch another tragedy unfold.

In an aggressive leap, he aimed the arrow straight between Kurogane's eyes.

 — Not… today…

Kurogane raised the dagger, but the masked figure twisted his body, kicking the weapon away in a clumsy but powerful strike.

And fired the arrow inches from Kurogane's chest.

The explosion of blue energy sent Kurogane flying back, splitting a tree in half.

Issei and Matsuda couldn't move. The world was nothing but that blue flash and the smell of ozone.

 — Run…! — the masked figure shouted, still with a trembling voice, barely holding the bow with stiff fingers.

 — L-Let's go! — Motohama yelled, pulling Issei and Matsuda.

 — M-Motohama…?! — Matsuda stammered, but the masked figure turned his face toward them, the cold light of the bow reflecting on his dark lenses.

 — RUN!

As the three of them started stumbling away, the masked figure repositioned himself, tense, the bow wavering but still raised.

 — You… won't… touch them… — he declared, though his voice cracked at the end.

Kurogane, coughing blood, stood up slowly, a wild smile on his bloodied lips.

 — You're… more troublesome than I thought… — he growled. "But I can feel it… you're not used to this power…"

The masked figure swallowed hard but held his ground.

 — Maybe… but… I… won't… lose…

And with visible effort, he condensed several arrows into a single blue sphere, pulsating wildly, almost unstable.

Kurogane summoned the white snake, lightning-fast.

But the masked figure raised his palm, activating Blut Vene with an uneven yet intense blue glow.

The snake bit… and broke its teeth.

The masked figure struggled to hold the creature, his arms shaking from the tension, and hurled it against a wall.

Kurogane charged with the dagger raised, screaming:

 — DIE!

The masked figure almost smiled—but not with confidence… with bitter resolve.

 — I already died once… I'm not doing it again.

And fired the sphere of energy.

The entire street shook.

Kurogane was thrown far, his mask shattered, his hood torn off. His face… the same face Motohama had seen during his first death… now exposed.

The masked figure slowly walked toward him, the bow dissolving into particles.

Kurogane tried to rise, but the masked figure stabbed a Seele Schneider into his hand, pinning him to the asphalt.

 — This… this shouldn't… be happening… my second chance… my dreams… — Kurogane muttered, panic taking over his eyes.

Motohama leaned down, his voice cold and weak:

 — Never mess with my friends…

And he drove another Seele Schneider into Kurogane's chest.

The body dissolved into corrupted particles.

The masked figure remained there… panting… until he was sure—absolutely sure—that it was over.

Only then did he look back, where Motohama, Issei, and Matsuda were still staring in disbelief, hiding behind a trash bin.

When he moved toward them…

FOOOM!

A blast of black and red flames forced him to leap away.

Two figures appeared between him and the trio: Rias and Akeno.

Their eyes… red, glowing like wild beasts.

Both trembled from that presence, that aura that made their most primal instincts scream: Attack, devour, destroy!

They resisted… but their bloody, hungry eyes betrayed how deeply the masked figure disturbed them.

Before a single word could be spoken, the masked figure had to leap again—

CHIIIING!

A sword's blade sliced through the air from the left, and he barely had time to see the face of the swordsman:

Kiba Yuuto.

A handsome face… distorted by tears, by raw, visceral hatred.

 — BASTARD! — Kiba roared, charging forward with a sword soaked in fury.

The masked figure dodged, rolling across the ground, his trembling hands trying to summon another arrow.

 — K-KIBA! HE SAVED US! — Issei shouted.

But Kiba… wasn't listening.

Didn't want to listen.

He could only see Kurogane… dead.

He could only hear his friend's scream… see the look of terror…

And the masked figure… killing him without hesitation.

Nothing else existed.

Only the sword cutting through the air, only the scream:

 — MURDERER!

The masked figure tried to summon an arrow, but hesitated… and Kiba was already upon him.

The Quincy dodged at the last second, fired an arrow aiming for the leg.

But…

CLANG!

A katana, wrapped in pure ice, intercepted the arrow, shattering it with chilling precision.

Everyone froze.

From the shadows emerged Shirou Hitsugaya, wielding Hyōrinmaru.

 — That's enough… — he declared, his voice cold as steel, his gaze as frozen as eternal snow.

The masked figure, gasping for air, turned:

 — Shinigami…

 — Quincy. — Shirou replied, raising his sword — I won't let you hurt anyone else.

The masked figure tried to explain:

 — It's not me…

 — YOU KILLED MY FRIEND! — Kiba screamed, charging again.

The masked figure raised his bow… but hesitated.

And that hesitation… was enough.

Rias unleashed a blast, and the masked figure lost his balance.

Shirou advanced, fast as the wind.

The Quincy tried to jump, to summon… but Hyōrinmaru pierced his chest.

His body convulsed.

The cold consumed every cell, every nerve.

 — S-So… I… can't avoid this fate… even with my power… I wasn't strong enough… — he whispered.

His mask fell, his cap flew off…

Motohama.

The other Motohama—standing beside Issei and Matsuda—burst into smoke, revealing a small white paper shikigami.

The real Motohama… remained there, half frozen… half alive…

Eyes wide…

Exhausted…

Resigned…

And above all… relieved.

 — M-MOTOOHAMAAAA! — Issei and Matsuda screamed, running toward their friend in tears…

…frozen.

…dead.