Just as I was about to slip out with the crowd, Shizuka-sensei's voice, laced with faux innocence, caught me. "Aono-kun! A moment?"
She beckoned me closer, with Moka hovering just behind my shoulder, curious. "If you do decide to explore the Newspaper Club," she said, lowering her voice conspiratorially, "the club room is on the third floor of the B-Wing, at the end of the east corridor. If it's locked, look for the club president, Gin Morioka. He's a second-year."
She paused, a flicker of exasperation crossing her features. "If you can't find him there… he might be, ah, conducting 'field research.' Try checking near the Swimming Club, the Volleyball Club, the Dance Club… or the Keion Club." (A/N: K-On… Insert gif, girl with guitar)
'In other words, anywhere with a high concentration of female students.'
My impression of this senpai solidified instantly. He doesn't sound reliable, far from it, even Shizuka-sensei made him sound like a true specialist that would make a paparazzi veteran jealous of his skills.
Sensing my skepticism, Shizuka-sensei waved her hands dismissively. "Now, now, Gin is a good boy at heart! Truly! He's just… going through a rebellious, misguided phase. Very passionate about journalism!"
'Okay… Yeah, sure!'
'Of course, I knew the most lore I needed to know about this 'Senpai' and could summarize Gin Morioka's existence as an hopeless perverted Werewolf with high potential for being a clown and liability.'
"We'll keep an eye out for him, Sensei," I said noncommittally. Moka just nodded, looking mildly perplexed by the whole exchange.
Stepping into the B-Wing hallway was like walking into a wall of sound and motion. The sheer influx of students was overwhelming.
Every inch of available space was crammed with colorful booths, banners, and shouting upperclassmen. My sharpened eyes picked out the details—a Calligraphy Club demon calmly slicing paper with a claw-tipped brush, the Astronomy Club showcasing glowing star charts that moved on their own, the Cooking Club offering suspiciously animated (and possibly sentient) takoyaki.
"Hey, Tsukune," Moka said, her voice rising above the din as she clung a little closer to my side. "Isn't this… awesome? Do you think every club is here advertising?"
"Seems like it," I replied, scanning the crowd. "Probably fighting for funding and membership fees. More members means more resources and influence."
"I wouldn't know…" she admitted, her initial awe softening into something more melancholic. "Back in the human world, in junior high… I never joined a club. This… will be my first time."
The combination of sadness and fragile hope in her voice was unmistakable. Without overthinking it, I slid an arm around her back, giving her shoulders a reassuring squeeze. "It'll be fine. We can check them out together. Maybe even join the same one. I'll help you make more friends."
She leaned into the touch for a second, a blush coloring her cheeks. "That… I'd rather just be with you always…" she mumbled, the words half-lost in the cacophony.
I pretended not to hear, turning my head slightly. "What did you say, Moka? Couldn't catch it with all this noise."
"Ah! N-Nothing!" she stammered, straightening up, her embarrassment evident. Pushing her to confront those feelings here, surrounded by chaos and prying eyes, would only trigger her social anxiety. Some things needed quiet to bloom.
"S-Say, Tsukune," she said, swiftly changing the subject. "What club should we look for? Do you want to try Shizuka-sensei's Newspaper Club like she suggested?"
"Good question," I mused, steering us through the throng. "But no, I didn't promise anything. I just said I'd visit. We should explore all our options first."
We drifted from booth to booth. I asked pragmatic questions about schedules, activities, and requirements, while Moka's eyes sparkled at displays of art or intricate crafts.
Several clubs were visibly more interested in recruiting her—their representatives' eyes glazing over me to fix on her ethereal beauty.
The Poetry Club president, a lean Baku with dreamy, half-losed eyes, was not deterred. As we paused near a display of ink paintings, he materialized before us with a rustle of silk robes, and followed us for two steps, his voice trembling with artistic passion.
"Forgive the intrusion," he breathed, placing a hand over his heart. "But when such a muse graces us mundane creatures, silence becomes a deadly sin."
Moka blinked, taken aback, while I just stared at the guy selling his bread and butter (metaphorically, of course)
[Name: Rui Tanaka]
[Threat Level: C(Baku)] (A/N: Baku = Dream-Eater)
Rui's eyes, the color of faded violets, swam with emotion. "I am Rui, president of the Poetry Club. We seek not only members for our prestigious club, but kindred spirits."
"And you, fair one… your aura distills the very essence of mono no aware—the poignant beauty of transient things." (A/N: This guy goes into some japanese philosophical stuff that my monkey brain can't fully comprehend. Jokes aside, it is a concept that expresses beauty in fleeting, like cheery blossoms that bloom but also scatter in the wind after some weeks)
He produced a scroll from his sleeve with a flourish. "A humble offering, composed just now in your wake."
He cleared his throat for dramatic effect, his voice taking on a rhythmic, wavering cadence:
"O, pink cascade, where moonlit sakura dreams reside,
A sigh imprisoned in a glance, the tide of evening held inside.
Your footsteps, soft as forgotten vows on shores of memory's sea,
Weave silence into sonnets, and draw longing forth from me.
"Are you a phantom from the scrolls of time, a vision softly penned?
Or a sorrow sweet as persimmons, from a world that long did end?
…
He continued on with his grand performance, and I did take my time to listen carefully and gave my mental applause for his craft. I wouldn't be able to come up with so many flowery words to say that a babe is hot as fuck. Just be direct my dude, and say 'Netflix and Chill?'
He peeked to gauge her reaction. Moka's expression was one of polite, profound confusion. Once he was done, he finished with a deep bow, the scroll trailing on the floor. Several nearby students had stopped to watch, some cringing, others oddly captivated.
Moka finally spoke, her voice flat and clear as glass. "No, thank you. I don't like poetry. It makes my head hurt trying to figure out what it means."
The effect was instantaneous. Rui straightened up as if struck. The vibrant light in his violet eyes guttered out. "H-Head… hurt?" he whispered, the words crumbling. "My verses… are a cause of cephalalgia?"
He clutched the scroll to his chest. "But… but the metaphor of the persimmon… the transient sakura… it was for you… all for you." His lower lip trembled. "I… I see. The muse is not silent. She's uncultured and ignorant to true art."
He seemed to physically shrink, his dream-eater aura dimming to a faint, melancholic shimmer. "I… must revise my entire thesis on embodied aesthetics," he mumbled to himself, turning and shuffling away, a picture of utter poetic dejection.
'Heads up, champ. I'm sure your poetry will get you a girl eventually.'
I felt a pang of genuine sympathy. "That was… direct," I said in a lower tone to Moka.
She looked up at me, a flicker of remorse in her green eyes. "Was it too mean? I just told the truth. It did sound complicated." She watched his retreating, slumped shoulders. "Maybe… I could have said it nicer."
But then she shook her head, her resolve firming as she tightened her grip on my arm. "But I'm not joining a club because someone writes weird songs about my hair. It feels rather creepy."
It was an unsuccessful club invitation, but this didn't mean other didn't try to get Moka in their roster.
Meanwhile, myself? I didn't commit to anything. Not yet. I made sure that this festival to me was more of a reconnaissance mission since I wanted to scout as many Yokai's as possible using the function of my System. And here, I would like to apologize… (if you thought I would say, to absolutely no one… it was my first thought but…) credit is credit.
The system can be as mechanical as the Antikythera mechanism, inefficient and without flair. No Daily Quests, nagging AI voice sounding in my brain, which I swear I don't want to hear since I got my own problems with Vampirism turning my brain into a multitasking computer brain, but it did a simple job perfectly… scouting for possible hostile beings.
Every booth, every eager face, was like a data point added in my memory which surprisingly worked better then the previous days, forming a complex web of strings based on their hierarchy in ratings.
As for Moka beside me, she was slowly beginning to relax, a bit apologetic for how ruthless she now found out she was when rejecting the invitation of the Poetry Club President. Her nervousness gave way to genuine curiosity, sheltered safely within the casual circle of my arm that she claimed with some possessiveness.
The crowd surged, a noisy, pushing entity. As we rounded a corner near the surprisingly popular "Cursed Artifacts Appreciation Society" booth, a small figure barreled into me with a soft "Oof!"
I looked down. A first-year girl with wide, frightened purple eyes stared up from under a large, pointy black hat that had been knocked askew. A witch. And not just any witch—Yukari Sendo, looking utterly overwhelmed by the festival chaos.
She wears a black witch hat that droops down sometimes, a pink top, and a pink corset. She has the green checkered pleated short skirt all female students wear, and wears bright pale yellow over the knee socks, and brown shoes.
"S-Sorry! I wasn't looking where I was going—" she stammered, flinching as if expecting a shout or a shove.
"It's fine. The crowd's insane," I said, my voice calm. I bent down and picked up her fallen witch's hat from the floor while taking a better look at this little girl to see if she was a mirror of what I was remembering from the show.
She has her black witch hat, check, that pink top and pink corset along with the trademark of Yokai Academy when it comes to girls, their green checkered short skirt that she combined with her bright pale yellow knee socks and brown shoes.
All in all, If you rendered it in 3D, she resembled her anime counterpart.
As for the hat I picked, instead of handing it to her, I gently placed it back on her head, adjusting it with a slight, careful tilt. "There. Can't have a witch without her hat, right?"
Her face flushed a deep, uniform pink from her neck to the tips of her ears. "Th-Thank you, senpai…" she said in a stammering voice, her heart hammering so fiercely I could almost see the pulse in her throat.
'Awww, such cuteness. While she did get on my nerves in the show, I will forgive you since you're innocent. It was all my predecessor's fault for being not up to your standards.'
While I was having my lolicon moment in my brain that I fear I might appear on some controversial files, out of nowhere I sensed an object materializing out of nowhere before my head.
It was a medium-sized bucket that started descending toward my head.
I didn't look up. My gaze stayed on her wide eyes. "Be careful, little witch," I said, my tone dropping to a friendly level. "This academy's full of strange phenomena. You never know when an unexpected bucket might fall."
'This might be Yukari's subconscious self-defense mechanism when she initially thought of perceived a threat from me.'
As I spoke, my left hand shot out in a blur, not to catch it, but to flick the edge of it with a single, sharp knuckle. A small surge of condensed force, a trickle of that new juicy crimson Yoki, shot through the motion.
CRACK.
The bucket didn't fall since I did an Overkill.
It shattered into dry, splintered pieces, raining down harmless wood fragments instead of syrup. The sticky liquid that had been inside spilled harmlessly against the wall.
Yukari stared, her jaw slightly agape. Even Moka, beside me, let out a small, surprised breath, her green eyes flicking from the wall to my face. She was surprised at how well I was adapting to Demonic Energy.
As for Yukari, her defensive spell had been utterly bypassed, not by magic, but by overwhelming force. Her initial fear melted into pure, dazed shock, then morphed into something else as she looked back at my face—at the calm, almost gentle expression I wore.
"See?" I said, giving her a small, reassuring wink. "Unexpected."
'He is not angry with me for pulling a prank? He didn't shout at me. A-And, he looks so cool.'
'Could it be this is the rumored Tsukune-san who is always around with Moka-san?'
'He's also handsome… Why is my heart beating so quickly?'
I turned with Moka, who offered the stunned witch a small, polite smile. "You should watch your spells more carefully," Moka said softly, but without malice.
We melted back into the crowd, continuing our reconnaissance for the 'perfect' club to fit both of us. Yet, good deeds don't remain unpaid, as I felt it on my back, Yukari's gaze, no longer fearful, was now fixed on me with the intensity of a scholar who had just discovered a fascinating new theorem.
'Who knows,' I mused internally. 'She might think I'm a lolicon.'
But the brief stat window that had flickered at the edge of my vision was the real takeaway.
[Name: Yukari Sendo - Witch]
[Threat Level: E (Potential: A)]
'Potential A, huh? Noted.'
We spent the next hour exploring the more physical clubs. The atmosphere was different here—less about recruitment and more about demonstration. We watched the Karate Club break tiles (one member used his actual rocky forehead), and the Kendo Club's rhythmic strikes that created small gusts of wind.
The Kendo Club was especially… unique. It was an all-female club, presided over by a particular woman who gave me the first real jolt of deja-vu for todays string of events that I will not forget anytime soon. And I tell you, things are about to get stranger and crazy by the moment.
She sat on a sidelines bench, dressed in the traditional white and blue kendo uniform, but any semblance of formality was shattered by the large bottle of sake she was tipping back with practiced ease like she was a professional drunk.
She was a voluptuous, slender beauty with long, messy pink hair that cascaded over her shoulders, vivid green eyes, and a truly impressive bust. A single, striking mark adorned her forehead. The combination was unmistakable.
Yeah, I could swear she was a person I knew from somewhere.
'This is… hmm, unexpected to say the least.'
As we approached, she lowered the bottle, her keen eyes landing on us immediately. A lazy, friendly smile spread across her face. She stood, moving with a casual grace that belied her size, and strolled over.
"Freshmen shoppers? Welcome, welcome!" she greeted, her voice warm and slightly husky. She thrust the bottle toward me. "Want a sip? Best moonshine this side of the Underworld."
Before I could answer, her gaze sharpened, focusing on me with sudden intensity. "Hold on… You wouldn't happen to be Aono Tsukune, would you?"
My guard went up instantly. I kept my expression neutral. "Before I confirm or deny, can I ask how you know that name?"
"Ehhh? Isn't it obvious?" she laughed, a rich, rolling sound. "Me and Arachnera-chan are besties! She wouldn't stop talking about this hot freshman who was actually curious about her spider collections. And I mean wouldn't stop—not even when I offered her some of my good stuff here." She shook the bottle for emphasis.
'Damn it, it was Jorōgumo-senpai blabbering even thought I told her to keep it confidential.'
I could feel Moka's gaze shift from curious to quietly intense beside me. I didn't dare look at her fully.
'Come on, it's not what it sounds like! I was just being a good, curious junior trying to find ways to have a clean dorm room!'
"Ahem," I coughed. "I'm that Aono Tsukune. And you are?"
"Nonko Arahabaki! Third-year, and president of this fine club." She leaned in, the information window flashing in my vision almost redundantly.
[Name: Nonko Arahabaki][Insert Image]
[Threat Level: S(Oni)]
'S-rank. Right. Of course she is. And it is her, the busty, drunk, Oni from that ghost anime I've seen while binging ecchi animes. But how could she be here, a student of Yokai Academy'
'Man, there are too many strange junctions to this world. First is DxD, then I found out that there are some Yokai I found in different animes and mangas I've read. Now it's the ghost one.'
'I mean, in a world that has all the pantheons alive and kicking. Seeing a familiar face in this Academy is nolonger surprising.'
'This will be interesting. Let's see how she is like.'
"Nice to meet you, Nonko-senpai," I said, bowing slightly. Seeing the offered bottle still hovering, and sensing this was some kind of test, I accepted it while staring for a couple of seconds at the mouth of the bottle.
"Well, to good health."
'Indirect kissing. What could go wrong.'
I took a swig with that small smirk of mine.
Pure fire that would make Phoenix Fire just a warm lighter flame. Yet it was also in the form of a liquid. This distilled fire tasted like paint thinner mixed with volcanic ash and regret, lots of it.
'Motherfucker. Bitch, with what you distilled this sake?'
'My body burns from inside out!'
It blazed a trail of pure annihilation down my throat and exploded in my stomach. My vision swam, my head spun, and for a couple of seconds, the world became a blurry, roaring haze. I swayed, and Moka's small hands shot out to steady my arm.
"Whoa there!"
Nonko let out a booming laugh, slapping her thigh. "Not bad, kid! Most first-timers that try my moonshine, faceplant! You've got a decent gut and liver on you!"
As the world slowly snapped back into focus, a different notification chimed softly in my mind. The 'moonshine' wasn't just alcohol—it was saturated with dense, wild spiritual energy.
[You have consumed 'Shuten-doji Moonshine.']
[Trace impurities and potent spiritual energy metabolized.]
[As a first time consume, you have gained +5 Points to Mana and +10 Points to Demonic Energy]
I coughed again, handing the bottle back with watery eyes. "That's… something else, senpai."
"Only the best!" she chirped, then turned her attention to Moka. "And what about you, cutie? Any interest in joining the Kendo Club? We're always looking for girls to join our family."
Moka shrunk back slightly. "I… I don't really like violence. I just followed Tsukune here out of curiosity."
"Hmm," Nonko hummed, her green eyes sliding back to me. "So it's Aono-kun who's interested in picking up a sword?"
Still clearing the phantom fire from my throat, I nodded. "Just looking for now. I won't deny I'm interested in learning to wield one. Kendo seems the logical step. But if Moka-chan doesn't want to join, I'll have to pass." I gestured to the ongoing drills. "I'll just admire the… demonstration from the sidelines."
"Oho? Such a devoted boyfriend~" Nonko teased, her grin widening.
Moka's face flushed a brilliant scarlet. "W-We're not—! He's not—! I mean—!" She deflated under Nonko's amused stare, growing quieter with each stammer.
"I think that's enough, Nonko-senpai," I interjected, stepping slightly in front of Moka. "If you push her, there might be some… unprecedented accidents. With me involved."
Nonko's grin turned wolfish. "Feisty! I like it." She closed the distance in an instant and gave me a hearty, friendly pat on the back.
It felt like a building had been gently placed on my shoulders. My knees buckled for a microsecond before I locked them, the impact vibrating through my recently healed bones. S-rank strength. Noted.
She leaned in, sniffing the air near my collar subtly. "You know, you smell really nice. No wonder you're so popular with the girls."
"If you continue teasing, Nonko-senpai, I will leave," I said flatly, though a small smirk tugged at my lips. Her brand of chaos was exhausting, but oddly refreshing.
"Noooo, you have to stay! Watch the drills at least!" she pouted, before perking up again. "By the way, are you interested in the Manga Club? I'm the head of that one too. Well, it's just me right now. I got hooked recently after a trip to the Human World."
She waved a hand airily. "Mikogami-san sent me out to Tokyo to hunt some idiots breaking the territory rules—boring stuff. But while I was there, I had time to explore. Did you know there's a Devil Princess who started an academy just like ours because she's crazy about anime and manga? Nice girl. Didn't even bother me when I popped into her territory."
She took another casual sip. "Well, technically, it's a land grant from Mikogami-san to one of the new Devil big-shots… Maou Lucifer, I think?"
My focus, which had been split between her and the sparring matches, snapped entirely to her face. She was casually dropping so much important intel on the world situation while in-between sips of sake.
'She's not normal. Not a single thing of normality with this babe.'
"What's the name of this location?" I asked, keeping my voice carefully casual. "Could it be… Kuoh Town?"
Her green eyes sparkled with amusement. "Ara~ Spot on! They built the whole city up in, what, five years? After the grant. But anyway!" She steered back to her story with the force of a freight train.
"So, back to my journey as an inspired mangaka! I'd never been to Tokyo before. After the hunt, I hit Kabukichō. Some stupid humans tried to recruit me, said I could be a star in their 'films' with a body like this." She gestured proudly at her chest, and my eyes, against my will, were magnetically drawn for a second. "Guess that didn't work out."
"I'd imagine not," I deadpanned.
"Of course not! I know what an 'AV Actress' is. Please." She scoffed. "My real target was the holy land itself—Akihabara!"
"Interesting," I murmured, genuinely intrigued now. "So, what did you manage to buy?"
"Heh! Curious, are you? Guess!"
"I don't know… One Piece?"
"BINGO!" she shouted, delighted. "Man, you're good! Is that the famous Vampire intuition I heard you have, or what?"
She then launched into an excited list of all the popular 2008 manga she'd scavenged—Naruto, Bleach, Fullmetal Alchemist—lamenting how limited her human money was.
As she talked, I filed every piece of key information away in my mind with relative ease.