Chapter 62 — Adjusting to a New Life

Asia

Xenovia-san had only been a student for a few days, and already our classroom felt different.

Not in a bad way.

Just... louder in strange places.

More abrupt. 

More likely to stop moving entirely because Xenovia-san had said something with perfect seriousness that no normal student would ever say out loud.

That morning, I had met her just outside the school gate because she still didn’t trust herself to get everything right on her own.

To be honest, I understood that.

When I first started attending Kuoh Academy, even ordinary things had felt overwhelming.

The size of classrooms.

The rhythm of classes and the lunch break.

The way everyone moved through the halls so naturally, as if they had all been handed a guidebook I’d somehow missed.

I had learned a lot since then, but not all at once, and not without help.

Xenovia-san was having a harder time.

I was not surprised.

“Kneeling is not required when entering the building,” I told her gently as we changed into our indoor shoes.

She frowned. “Even when a teacher is present?”

“Yes.”

“What about bowing?”

“A little bow is fine.”

“A salute?”

“No.”

“It is very different from the Church. But I understand.”

She nodded with such seriousness that I almost laughed.

It wasn’t that she wasn’t trying.

Actually, she was trying very hard.

That was part of what made it so difficult.

Xenovia-san approached school life the way she approached battle or doctrine: as something to be mastered through rules, precision, and direct action.

Unfortunately, normal school life was made almost entirely out of unspoken expectations, soft habits, and people saying one thing while meaning another.

Which was probably why Kusari-san handled it better than either of us.

Not perfectly.

Just... better.

We reached the classroom a little before the bell.

The noise inside was the familiar morning mix of chairs scraping, bags dropping, people calling out greetings, and the endless useless chatter of boys who apparently never ran out of things to say.

Issei-san was already there with Matsuda-san and Motohama-san.

Kiryuu-san was leaning against her desk with the expression of someone already bracing herself for their stupidity.

Murayama-san and Katase-san were talking near the window.

Kusari-san was in her seat.

She looked up when Xenovia-san and I entered.

Like always in normal school settings, her fox traits were hidden.

If I didn’t already know what she looked like when she allowed herself to be seen properly, it might have been easy to forget there was anything supernatural about her at all.

Silver-white hair, deep purple eyes, a face so beautiful it still made people look twice, a slightly sickly or frail appearance, and that same careful stillness she often wore in class.

But these days, that stillness didn’t feel as complete as it once had.

Sometimes she made dry little remarks without retreating afterwards.

Sometimes her eyes betrayed amusement before the rest of her did.

Sometimes she looked less like she was enduring school and more like she was actually in it.

Only a little.

But enough that I noticed.

“Good morning,” I said.

“Good morning,” Kusari-san replied.

Her gaze shifted to Xenovia-san. “You made it without saluting the gate?”

Xenovia-san stared at her. “I considered it.”

Kusari-san nodded once. “Good restraint.”

I covered my mouth quickly so I could stifle a giggle. 

Xenovia-san looked between us, visibly uncertain whether she was being mocked.

Then she seemed to decide it didn’t matter and sat down anyway.

Matsuda-san and Motohama-san noticed her immediately.

Of course they did.

Matsuda whispered loudly enough for everyone to hear. “It’s been a few days but I’m still not used to her. Asia-chan wasn’t enough, now we’ve got another foreign beauty?”

“She has that dangerous look too,” Motohama-san muttered. “Like she’d reject me before I even finished introducing myself.”

“She would,” Kiryuu-san said.

Neither of them looked ashamed.

Issei-san leaned back in his chair and grinned at us. “Morning.”

“Good morning, Ise-san,” I said.

Xenovia-san nodded once. “Morning.”

Then, because she was Xenovia-san, she added, “Your classmates remain weak-looking.”

The room went quiet.

I felt my whole body tense.

“A-Ah,” I said quickly. “What Xenovia means is—”

“That I am not yet used to judging people by school standards instead of my own,” Xenovia finished, perfectly calm.

That... actually helped.

A little.

Matsuda-san and Motohama-san still looked horrified.

Murayama-san burst out laughing.

Katase-san looked at Xenovia-san with open confusion.

Kiryuu-san’s eyes sharpened with interest. “You really did bring in a weird one this time.”

Issei-san scratched his cheek. “Yeah, well. That part’s kind of consistent around us.”

Kusari-san, without even looking up from the book she had just opened, said, “You’re one to talk.”

“Why am I getting attacked this early?”

“Because you’re loud enough to draw enough attention for it to happen before first period,” Kiryuu-san told him.

That made Murayama nod in agreement.

For one second, I saw the corner of Kusari-san’s mouth move.

Just a little.

Then the teacher entered and everything settled into place.

Mostly.

Xenovia-san had only been in the class a few days, but that was apparently enough time for everyone to decide she was either very cool, very strange, or some dangerous mixture of both.

When she stood for attendance, she did it too sharply.

When she answered questions, she did it too directly.

When the teacher made a joke about “adjusting to school life,” Xenovia-san answered about her transition to civilian life. 

The teacher stared.

Half the class stared.

Issei-san dropped his face into one hand.

I made a small helpless noise.

Kusari-san lowered her eyes, which I had learned meant she was either hiding annoyance or amusement.

With her, it was often both.

At lunch, I was relieved when Xenovia-san didn’t try to eat alone.

She came with me instead, carrying her bento with the same solemnity she used for her holy sword.

Issei-san joined us a minute later. So did Kiryuu-san, who claimed she was only sitting nearby but then immediately inserted herself into the conversation.

Kusari-san arrived last, setting down her own lunch with quiet efficiency before sitting across from us.

“You are watching me,” Xenovia-san said to Kiryuu-san after about twenty seconds.

Kiryuu-san smiled brightly. “That’s because you say interesting things.”

“I say obvious things.”

“No,” Issei-san said. “Trust me. They’re not obvious.”

Xenovia-san looked unconvinced.

I smiled faintly and opened my lunch. “It’s not bad. Everyone’s just still getting used to you.”

“I am also still getting used to everyone,” Xenovia-san said.

“That goes both ways,” Kusari-san said.

Kiryuu-san leaned forward a little, resting her chin in her hand. “So what’s the hardest part so far?”

“School?” Xenovia-san asked.

“You’re new life in Kuoh,” Kiryuu-san said, eyes sharp in that way of hers that always made me nervous.

Xenovia-san answered with complete honesty.

“The number of unnecessary choices.”

Issei-san blinked. “What?”

“Drinks,” Xenovia-san said immediately. “Bread. Erasers. Pencil cases. Keychains. Flavors. Cleaning products. Shampoos. Why are there so many shampoos?”

That made me laugh before I could stop myself.

“See?” she said, turning toward me with vindication. “Asia understands.”

“I-I understand a little,” I admitted. “I got confused by that too at first.”

Xenovia-san nodded, as if this proved a serious point. “A single thing should perform its purpose. But there are fifteen kinds of the same thing and you are expected to know which one to choose.”

“That’s kind of how a lot of life works,” Issei-san said.

“It is inefficient.”

Kusari-san picked up her chopsticks. “Not always. Sometimes people like being able to choose badly.”

Issei pointed at her. “That sounds like it came from personal experience.”

Kusari-san looked at him across the table. “I have watched you shop.”

Kiryuu-san snorted.

Even I had to smile.

It was strange how much the little things stood out now.

Kusari-san saying things like that.

Letting them sit in the open.

Not rushing to take up less space immediately after.

She was still the quietest person at the table.

Still the hardest to read if you didn’t know her.

But she felt less hidden than before.

Kiryuu-san’s gaze flicked to her too.

Then back to Xenovia-san.

“What about you?” she asked me. “What took the longest to get used to?”

I hesitated.

Then answered honestly. “Noise.”

I realized they were all looking at me now.

I looked down at my lunch, suddenly embarrassed.

“Not because I disliked it,” I said quickly. “Just... there’s always so much. Phones, voices, music from stores, traffic, televisions, people talking in groups...” I smiled awkwardly. “When I first started, I got tired much faster than everyone else.”

Xenovia-san absorbed that with visible seriousness.

“That explains why you are good at finding the quietest spots in a room,” she said.

I blinked. “Ah... yes. Maybe.”

Kiryuu-san’s expression softened a little.

Then she ruined it on purpose.

“So basically, the three of you are all kind of sheltered in weirdly different ways.”

I nearly choked on my tea.

Issei laughed.

Xenovia-san frowned. “That sounds insulting.”

“Not necessarily.” Kiryuu-san said.

“It is accurate though,” Kusari-san said.

This time all of us stared at her.

She paused, chopsticks halfway to her mouth.

Then, very calmly, “What?”

“You just agreed with Kiryuu,” Issei said.

“Yes.”

“Voluntarily.”

“Yes, she was correct. Asia-san was raised in an isolated Church setting, Xenovia-san was raised extremely strictly and had physical training with the Church, and I lived a very… sheltered life before coming here.”

Kiryuu-san covered her mouth, eyes bright with delight. “Wow. I like you more every week.”

Kusari’s expression went flatter. “I feel like that will become tiring.”

“It probably will.” Kiryuu-san said immediately.

That made even Issei laugh.

I found myself laughing too.

Xenovia-san looked from one face to the next.

Then, after a short pause, said, “This does seem to be how normal classmates behave.”

“It is not,” Issei said.

“It absolutely is,” Kiryuu-san countered.

“Not like this!”

Murayama-san and Katase-san passed by our desks then, returning from the vending machines with drinks.

Murayama-san glanced at Xenovia-san. “You seem like you’re getting more comfortable here already.”

“Slowly,” Kiryuu-san said.

“I am adapting,” Xenovia-san added.

Katase-san smiled and held up the extra can she was carrying. “Want to try peach soda?”

Xenovia-san accepted it with caution. “Is it special?”

“No,” Katase-san said, laughing. “It’s just soda.”

Xenovia-san studied the can, then the tab, then the printed mascot on the side.

She frowned. “Why is the peach wearing sunglasses?”

None of us had a good answer.

By the time lunch ended, I felt strangely lighter.

Maybe because Xenovia-san’s confusion made mine from earlier seem less lonely.

Maybe because Kusari-san had stayed with us the whole time and not vanished into silence.

Maybe because ordinary lunch-table chaos was beginning to feel more like ours.

When classes ended and the bell finally rang, I thought the day’s strangest moments were probably over.

I was wrong.

Xenovia

School remained an extremely strange institution.

There was no training.

No formal mission.

No required prayers.

No clear hierarchy beyond teacher and student, and even that was weakened by gossip and boredom.

Yet everyone treated it as obvious.

That was the most troubling part.

If something is obviously a battlefield, then one adjusts.

If something involved the Church, then one follows doctrine.

If something is obviously a trap, then one prepares for hostility.

School was none of those things.

It was simply... accepted.

It contained gossip, packaged bread, paper tests, romantic tension, vending machines, cleaning schedules, and many girls looking at Issei with disdain.

Apparently he and his two friends were disliked by most of the female students.

They had been caught looking at some girls while changing in the locker room.

I was told it was called “peeping” and that I should avoid them. 

After classes ended, I followed Asia and the others out into the hall.

The building had begun to empty.

The afternoon light coming through the windows was golden and too peaceful for how much energy still moved through the corridors.

Students called out farewells. Clubs gathered.

Somewhere farther down the hall, a girl laughed loud enough to echo.

“It gets easier,” Asia said, matching her steps to mine.

I looked at her.

She meant it kindly.

I knew that.

Asia was gentle in the way some people are simply born that way.

Her kindness did not feel planned.

It came easily and without asking.

I still found that difficult to fully understand.

“Do you believe so,” I asked, “or are you saying that because it is the proper thing to say?”

Asia blinked.

Then she smiled sheepishly. “Both?”

That was probably fair.

Ahead of us, Issei was walking backward while talking, which I had learned was one of his many unsafe habits.

Kiryuu was insulting him from the side.

Matsuda and Motohama were saying things that made very little sense but apparently amused them anyway.

Murayama and Katase were discussing whether a teacher’s new haircut made him look younger or simply more ridiculous.

Kusari walked only a little apart from everyone else.

Not far enough to be removed.

Just enough to avoid being trapped at the center of the noise.

I had been studying her for several days now.

This was not because I distrusted her.

Though she seems not to trust others casually.

It was because she seemed, in some ways, even less naturally suited to ordinary school life than Asia or I should have been—and yet she moved through it better than both of us.

Not flawlessly.

That was the important part.

Today at lunch, she had paused when Kiryuu referenced some television program.

Just for an instant. Long enough that I noticed she did not know the name.

Then she had simply moved on without making the gap visible.

Earlier, she had stared at a seasonal display promoting family traditions for the summer and seemed slightly lost when looking at it.

She understood more than we did.

But she still did not fully belong here either.

“Kusari,” I said.

She glanced at me.

I raised the can of peach soda I was still holding. “I was told this is common.”

“It is.”

“I do not dislike it.”

“Then you’re adapting,” she said.

I considered that. “The peach is still dressed inexplicably.”

“Most mascots are.”

“That seems dishonest.”

“It’s to get attention. And they are selling you something, of course they are dishonest.”

Our eyes met for a second.

There was something almost amused in hers.

I decided that counted as progress.

Kiryuu, who somehow heard everything, looked over her shoulder. “I think she gets it.”

“I don’t know if I do,” I said.

“You will,” Aika insisted.

“She’s right,” Issei said. “You’re way less likely to say something terrifying in the middle of class than you were a few days ago.”

“That is because Asia warned me about six separate topics before homeroom.”

Asia flushed. “I-I only thought it might help a little...”

“It did,” I said.

She looked pleased enough by that that I made a note to say such things more often.

Then Issei did something clumsy, tripping on nothing and catching himself against the windowsill.

Kiryuu groaned. “You really can’t even walk normally.”

“I made it this far like that. I’m fine.”

Kusari said, “Yes, and you would have fallen flat on your back in front of all of us.”

He pointed at her. “Why are you taking her side?”

“She’s correct.”

“Everyone’s mean to me.”

“That also seems normal,” I observed.

Kiryuu barked out a laugh so hard she had to stop walking for a second.

We split at the shoe lockers.

Murayama and Katase went one way.

Matsuda and Motohama drifted on their own, probably to continue being disliked together.

Kiryuu lingered longer than the others, looked between all of us with that sharp gaze of hers, then waved and headed off too.

That left me with Asia, Issei, and Kusari.

For a few moments, none of us moved.

Then Issei stretched his arms over his head and let out a huge breath. “Man. School feels weirdly normal now.”

Kusari slid her shoes on. “That’s because you’re the one making it abnormal.”

“Again, why am I under attack?”

Asia smiled faintly and adjusted her bag. “Maybe because you make a lot of noise, Ise-san.”

He put a hand to his chest. “Asia too? Et tu, Asia?”

“I don’t know what that means,” she admitted.

“Neither do I,” he said immediately.

Kusari looked at him. “That’s deeply unsurprising from you Issei-san. But shouldn’t you know that Asia-san?”

Asia simply shrugged.

I was beginning to understand why the others watched her the way they did sometimes.

Not nervously, exactly.

More like they were waiting to see how much farther she might step into the light before she noticed and moved back.

Outside, the late afternoon air was warm.

Students flowed around us in loose groups toward the gate.

Somewhere nearby a sports club was already shouting through drills.

The smell of sun-warmed concrete and grass sat over everything.

Asia moved to my side.

Naturally.

Without asking.

That too was becoming familiar.

She had been my nearest anchor in school so far, maybe because she understood better than most how strange normal life could feel when you entered it from the side instead of growing up inside it.

But Kusari’s help was different.

Asia comforted.

Kusari translated.

Not words, usually.

Expectations.

She knew when something ordinary was about to become embarrassing and cut it off before it did.

She knew which questions from classmates were harmless and which were traps wrapped in friendliness.

She knew when to let silence pass and when to fill it with something dry enough to redirect attention.

I respected that.

Probably more than I had told her.

On the way to the club room, we were intercepted by Rias and Akeno.

It was surprising how much more relaxed Rias looked more than she had the previous night.

Not entirely.

There was still something careful in the set of her mouth.

But it was softer now. Lighter.

The sharp edge I had noticed when Sirzechs had been in the room was mostly gone.

She greeted Asia and me, then looked toward Kusari for the briefest extra beat before focusing on the group as a whole.

There was history in that glance.

Private history.

I did not know the details.

“Tomorrow is a holiday,” Rias said. “But we have work at school.”

Issei made a wounded sound immediately. “But Buchou, it’s the weekend! We shouldn’t have to come back to school!”

Akeno smiled. “Then you’ll have to miss out on all of the fun.”

Rias ignored them both and continued, “Sona’s student council wants the pool prepared for opening. In exchange for helping, our club gets first use of it.”

The silence lasted exactly one heartbeat.

Then Issei exploded.

“Pool!? First use!? Buchou, I love the student council! I take back not wanting to be here this weekend!”

“I should have started by saying we would get to use the pool,” Rias sighed.

“Swimsuits! This makes all the work and fighting worth it!”

Issei cheered while lost in his own world.

Asia flushed bright red.

I looked at the others. “Why is this causing such excitement?”

Kusari answered without even glancing at me. “Because Issei is hopeless.”

“That doesn’t explain his excitement for swimming.”

“You’ll figure it out soon. It explains most things,” Akeno said.

Rias sighed, but her mouth twitched. “We’ll meet tomorrow and head to school together. Don’t be late.”

“Yes, Buchou!” Issei said far too loudly.

Asia nodded at once.

I did the same.

Kusari inclined her head.

Then, as the group began to break apart again to head to the club room, I noticed something small.

Asia and I started walking.

Issei was already babbling about swimsuits and destiny and the blessed holiness of summer.

Rias was scolding him.

Akeno was encouraging the worst parts of him on purpose.

Kusari walked near enough to be with us and far enough to breathe.

This, apparently, was also school life.

And for the first time since entering it, I thought perhaps I might actually be able to learn it.