Afternoon began to shift into evening in Hanyu Village. The sky changed from blue to orange, then slowly purple on the western horizon. Birds returned to their nests, chickens began to roost, and house lights started turning on one by one. The quiet village prepared to welcome the night.
But in the house at the end of the road, night brought no peace for Tobio.
He sat on the edge of the bed in the same position as since afternoon. Not lying down, not reclining, just sitting upright with his eyes tightly closed.
His body was still here, but his mind—his perception—was everywhere. Seeing the entire village, seeing energy moving slowly in the air, seeing small lights from villagers' houses as they began turning on their lamps.
No rest. No darkness. Only the world constantly being seen.
Sae had gone home half an hour ago. Dulio, who had said he would watch over him, assured the girl that Tobio wouldn't be alone. Sae left hesitantly, occasionally looking back before finally disappearing behind the door.
Now only Dulio and Tobio were in the room.
Dulio sat in the chair by the window with a piece of paper in his hand—the doctor's report about Tobio's eyes that Sae had given him earlier. He read it once, twice, trying to digest each word from the perspective of an angel who understood supernatural matters.
Eye structure normal. No wounds. No physical damage.
Light does not reflect in the pupil—as if the light is swallowed.
Perception: Not normal.
Dulio sighed softly. He put the paper on the table, his fingers pressing against his temples. Ordinary medical documents could never explain what was happening to this child.
This wasn't an eye doctor's business. This was a matter of dimensions, souls, and Sacred Gears—things beyond the logic of ordinary humans.
He looked at Tobio. The boy still sat on the bed in the same position, not moving, only occasionally moving his fingers on the blanket. His eyes were closed, but Dulio knew Tobio was seeing something.
'Tonight,' Dulio thought, 'he won't be able to fall asleep. His vision is always active. Even when everyone else is asleep, he will remain awake, watching a world that is never dark for him.'
Tobio turned towards Dulio. His movement was slow, precise, as if he knew exactly where the angel was sitting even though his eyes were closed.
"By the way," Tobio's voice was soft, "what are your names?"
Dulio was silent.
He blinked, then laughed softly—a laugh almost embarrassed. "I forgot to introduce myself through all this."
He straightened his sitting position, adjusting the collar of his priest's robes even though it wasn't necessary.
"My name is Dulio Gesualdo. The other one is Griselda Quarta." He smiled faintly. "Sorry, I forgot such a simple thing."
Tobio nodded. "Tobio Ikuse. Thirteen years old." He paused for a moment, choosing his next words. "And I'm alone. My grandmother is gone."
Dulio didn't answer. Those words were too heavy to respond to with pleasantries. He only nodded, giving space for a respectful silence.
The bedroom door opened.
Dulio turned. At the threshold, Griselda stood in her nun's robes, slightly fluttering from the night wind outside. Her face was calm as usual, but there was something in her eyes—something resembling relief.
She stepped inside, approaching Dulio and Tobio.
"What was their response?" asked Dulio.
Griselda stood beside the chair, her arms crossed in front of her chest. "Michael-sama ordered me to watch over him."
She paused for a moment, then continued with a slightly different tone—softer, more personal. "But... Gabriel-sama asked me to protect him. Not a mission. Her personal request."
Dulio raised an eyebrow. Gabriel—the Seraph who was always cheerful, who rarely showed her serious side—making a personal request. That wasn't ordinary.
"I'll watch over him while also keeping an eye on Xenovia," Griselda added.
Dulio sighed in relief. At least Tobio wouldn't be alone. But then he remembered something—an unresolved issue.
"What about the perception limiter?" he asked.
Griselda answered calmly, "Michael-sama is searching for that artifact. But... I don't know when it will be found and delivered."
Dulio was silent. Michael was searching. That was good news. But "don't know when" was bad news. Every day without the limiter was a day Tobio continued seeing without pause, continued draining his energy, continued cracking his soul little by little.
He turned to Griselda. "Will he go with you later to Kyoto? To pick up Xenovia?"
Griselda was silent for a moment. Her eyes shifted to Tobio, who had been listening quietly.
Tobio felt that gaze—or more precisely, felt the shift in Griselda's energy directed at him. He turned.
"I don't mind going anywhere." His voice was flat, without burden. "I have no one left except my friend Sae."
Silence enveloped the room for a moment. Griselda and Dulio exchanged glances. There was something in those words—a simple but heavy confession.
No one left. A thirteen-year-old boy who had just lost his grandmother, whose only friend was a girl his age, and who now had to face a supernatural world he never asked for.
Griselda sighed. "Alright. But don't act recklessly. We will go to Kyoto later... to pick up Xenovia."
Tobio was silent.
Xenovia.
He recognized that name. Xenovia Quarta—user of Durandal, who would later become an Exorcist, then switch to the Devil side, marry Issei, and become part of the protagonist's harem. But all of that was in the future. Far in the future.
How old was Xenovia now?
"Xenovia," Tobio broke the silence, "is she my age?"
Dulio answered, his tone casual. "Four years younger than you."
Tobio fell silent again.
Four years younger. Meaning Xenovia was nine years old now.
His mind spun quickly. If Xenovia was nine now, then to reach the start of the DxD story—when Issei Hyoudou is resurrected by Rias Gremory as a devil—would take another eight years. Issei would be seventeen then. And Tobio himself would be twenty-one.
'Too early. I came too early to this world.'
Eight years was a long time. Eight years in which he could do many things—or conversely, in which many things could happen because of his presence.
Butterfly effect.
Any small action he took now could change the future he knew.
But was that a problem?
Tobio didn't care about the original plot. What he cared about was Trihexa. And Rizevim—the devil descendant of Lucifer who would later try to release Trihexa's seal.
If he met Rizevim, he wouldn't give that devil a chance to talk at length. Rizevim was a cheap villain who talked too much. Tobio wouldn't make the same mistake of rambling with the Villain and letting him escape.
He only had Telos Karma now. But if later he obtained another Sacred Gear... or if he found a way to strengthen himself... Rizevim would die without ever uttering a word.
But that was later. Now, he had to focus on the problem in front of him.
He had already seen Trihexa's core. That had cracked his soul again—worse than before. But it was worth it. At least he knew what he was facing.
Would observing the core of gods or other powerful beings cause a backlash like Trihexa? Probably not. Trihexa was a different entity. Something that shouldn't exist. Something even the gods feared.
Griselda and Dulio watched Tobio, who had fallen silent. The boy's face was calm—too calm—with his eyes tightly closed.
But they could feel something moving beneath that calm. Complex thoughts. Calculations too complicated for a child his age.
"Is something bothering you?" asked Dulio, his tone careful.
Tobio shook his head. "No. I'm just curious what Kyoto will be like later."
He paused for a moment, then continued in the same flat tone.
"Will we just pick up Xenovia without meeting Yasaka or other Youkai?"
Silence.
Griselda and Dulio were silent again—this time longer.
Yasaka. The leader of the Youkai in Kyoto. An important figure in the Japanese supernatural world. And this village child knew her name.
Griselda's eyes narrowed sharply. "You know Azazel. Now Yasaka." Her tone was cold, sharp like a surgical knife dissecting facts.
"You're a village child. Where did you get that information?"
Tobio was unaffected by that sharp tone. He remained sitting calmly with his eyes closed.
"I can't say." His voice was soft, but firm. "It's... a taboo."
Taboo.
The word hung in the air. Griselda was silent. Taboo wasn't a word someone used to cover a lie. Taboo was a word used for something too dangerous, too sacred, or too forbidden to discuss.
He knows more than he should. Far more.
But Griselda also knew that forcing someone to break a taboo would only bring disaster. She sighed, loosening the tension in her shoulders.
"Alright. I won't ask where you got that information."
Dulio, who had been silent, smiled faintly—a smile that lightened the atmosphere. "Just don't be too mischievous and do anything worrying, okay."
Tobio only nodded slowly.
---
Night had fully arrived. The full moon shone brightly over Hanyu Village, illuminating rooftops and trees with its light. Crickets sang in the bushes, occasionally answering frogs in the rice fields. The night air was cold and fresh, carrying the scent of wet earth and leaves.
But the limiter artifact had not yet arrived.
Tobio stood outside the house, at the end of the wooden porch facing the dark rice fields. The night wind touched his face, moving his hair that he hadn't cut since his grandmother died.
His eyes were still tightly closed, but the world remained visible in his perception—night energy moving slowly, life auras from villagers' houses, moonlight reflecting on the surface of the rice field water.
Dulio stood at the door, watching Tobio's back under the moonlight. He walked closer, standing beside the boy.
"You're not in bed?" asked Dulio, his tone casual. "Even if you can't sleep, at least that place is more comfortable."
Tobio didn't turn. "It's fine. Just enjoying the night breeze a little."
Dulio smiled faintly. But the smile didn't fully reach his eyes.
'That sentence sounds too old for his age,' he thought. Normally, children his age would be playing or sleeping. But this might be the only way he could feel calm—standing here, feeling the wind, pretending everything was normal.
"That sounds too poetic for your age," Dulio said casually. "Kids your age are usually sleeping, not enjoying the night breeze."
Tobio didn't answer. He only let the night wind caress his face, occasionally inhaling the fresh cold air.
Inside the house, Griselda stood by the window, watching the conversation outside. She heard every word, saw every movement. And in her heart, she said to herself:
'That's not enjoying. That's surviving.'
She knew Tobio couldn't sleep. She knew the child kept seeing even with his eyes closed. And what worried her—Tobio didn't complain. Didn't whine. Didn't ask for pity. Only stood silently in the middle of the night, letting the wind be his only comfort.
His condition could worsen at any time.
Griselda stepped outside. The night air greeted her with cold, but she ignored it.
She stood beside Dulio, looking at Tobio with cold eyes—but the coldness wasn't from indifference, the coldness was her way of maintaining distance so she wouldn't drown in concern.
"You should be resting," said Griselda, her tone cold. "Not relaxing outside enjoying the night breeze."
But she knew it was impossible. Rest was a dream Tobio couldn't reach tonight.