Akira POV
The morning sun streamed through my bedroom window, painting golden squares across the floor as I sat cross-legged on my small bed, staring at my left hand with intense concentration. Three days had passed since my memories had returned, since Ddraig had awakened within the Boosted Gear, and my world had become infinitely more complicated.
[Still trying to make sense of it all, partner?] Ddraig's ancient voice rumbled through my mind, tinged with what might have been amusement.
I flexed my fingers, watching for any sign of the crimson gauntlet. "It only appeared that first time when I was overwhelmed by the memories. I can't seem to summon it again."
[Patience. Sacred Gears respond to necessity and emotion, not simple will. A six-year-old body, even one with your... unique heritage, is not ready for my full power. Consider it a safety measure.]
"Safety measure," I muttered, then paused as footsteps approached my door. I quickly grabbed a picture book from my nightstand and flopped onto my stomach, feigning the appearance of a normal child reading.
"Akira? Breakfast is ready, sweetheart." Mom's voice carried through the door, warm and gentle.
"Coming, Mom!" I slipped off the bed, but as my feet hit the floor, something strange happened. For just a moment, I felt a warm tingling in my chest—not the Sacred Gear, but something else. Something that made the air around me feel... different.
[Interesting,] Ddraig mused. [Your father's bloodline is stirring. The Buné dragon heritage recognizes your awakened consciousness.]
I paused, hand on the doorknob. "What does that mean?"
[It means, young dragon emperor, that you have inherited more than just devil blood. But be cautious—power revealed too early brings danger.]
The door opened before I could respond, revealing Mom. She stood in the doorway with a gentle smile, her steel-gray eyes soft with maternal affection. To anyone else, she looked like a typical young mother in her simple blouse and jeans. But I, with my restored memories and growing supernatural senses, could detect something more—a controlled stillness in her movements, the way her eyes automatically catalogued the room's exits, the almost imperceptible calluses on her hands that spoke of weapon training.
"You're up early again," she observed, stepping into the room. "Bad dreams?"
"No, just... thinking." I looked up at her, and for a moment, wondered what she would say if she knew her six-year-old son possessed the memories of a twenty-two-year-old man and housed one of the most powerful dragons in existence.
Mom knelt down to my eye level, her expression growing slightly concerned. "You've been quiet these past few days. Is everything alright? You're not getting sick, are you?" She pressed the back of her hand to my forehead in the universal gesture of mothers everywhere.
Her touch was warm, and I felt that strange tingling again. This time, however, I could swear I sensed something from her as well—a controlled energy, disciplined and deadly despite her gentle demeanor.
"I'm fine, Mom. Just... growing up, I guess?" I gave her what I hoped was a reassuring smile.
Mom's eyes softened further, and she ruffled my silver-white hair. "My little philosopher. Come on, your father's making pancakes. He's been experimenting with different shapes again."
As we walked down the hallway toward the kitchen, I found myself studying my mother with new eyes. Her silver-white hair caught the morning light streaming through the windows, and I realized for the first time how much we looked alike - both of us with that distinctive coloring that set us apart from typical Japanese families. The research from my previous life had mentioned the Sigurd Institution, but I'd never expected to encounter it personally. If my suspicions were correct, my seemingly ordinary mother was far more dangerous than she appeared.
The kitchen was filled with the warm scent of vanilla and butter, and Dad stood at the stove with his back to us. He was a tall man with black hair streaked with silver, wearing a simple t-shirt that couldn't quite hide the lean muscle underneath. As he flipped a pancake, I caught a glimpse of his profile—sharp features, golden eyes that held depths I was only beginning to understand.
"Morning, kiddo," Dad said without turning around, somehow aware of our arrival. "Dragon or butterfly pancakes today?"
I nearly choked on my own breath. "D-dragon?"
Dad turned with a grin, a spatula in his hand and a pancake shaped remarkably like a small dragon on the griddle. "Your favorite, right? Though I think I made the wings a bit too big this time."
[Coincidence,] Ddraig rumbled in my mind, though he sounded amused. [Though your father's unconscious choice of shapes is... interesting.]
"Dragon is perfect," I managed, sliding into my chair at the small kitchen table. As Dad plated the pancake and set it in front of me, our eyes met for a moment. His golden gaze seemed to study me with the same intensity I had been applying to my parents, and for just an instant, I could swear I saw something shift in those depths—a flicker of recognition, as if some primal part of him sensed the awakening power within me.
"You've been having those dreams again, haven't you?" Dad asked casually, but his tone carried undertones that suggested the question was anything but casual.
I paused with my fork halfway to my mouth. "Dreams?"
"The ones about flying," Mom added, settling into her own chair with a cup of coffee. "You've been talking in your sleep the past few nights. Something about soaring through clouds and... what was it? 'Ancient voices calling'?"
My blood went cold. I'd been talking in my sleep? What else might I have revealed? [Calm yourself,] Ddraig advised. [Children often speak of fantastical dreams. They suspect nothing yet.]
"I... I don't really remember them clearly," I said carefully. It wasn't entirely a lie—the dreams that came now were a confusing mixture of my reincarnated memories, Ddraig's ancient recollections, and what I suspected might be inherited memories from my Buné bloodline.
Dad and Mom exchanged a glance—so quick that most people would have missed it, but I caught it. There was something in that look, a shared concern that went beyond normal parental worry about nightmares.
"Well," Dad said, his tone lightening as he served pancakes to himself and Mom, "dreams are just dreams. But if they bother you, you can always talk to us about them."
"Actually," Mom interjected, "I was thinking Akira might benefit from some physical activity. Something to help him burn off excess energy and maybe sleep more soundly."
Dad raised an eyebrow. "What did you have in mind?"
"There's a martial arts dojo not far from here. The Yaegashi family runs it—they have an excellent reputation for teaching children. It might be good for Akira to learn some discipline and self-control."
My fork clattered against my plate as the name hit me like a lightning bolt. Yaegashi. As in Shizuku Yaegashi from Arifureta. My mind raced through my knowledge of the character—a master swordswoman, calm and collected, but with hidden depths. If this was the same family...
[Your heart rate just spiked,] Ddraig observed. [Another name from your previous world's stories?]
"The Yaegashi dojo?" I asked, hoping my voice sounded normally curious rather than shocked. "What kind of martial arts do they teach?"
"Traditional Japanese swordsmanship, mainly," Dad replied, and there was something in his voice—approval? Recognition? "The head of the family, Koichi Yaegashi, is a master of several classical styles. They also teach hand-to-hand combat and discipline."
"And," Mom added with a small smile, "they have a daughter about your age. Shizuku, I think her name is. She's supposed to be quite gifted."
My mind whirled. This was too much to be coincidence. First my reincarnation into the DxD world, then my unusual parentage, and now the possibility of meeting another character from my previous life's knowledge. What was that entity planning?
"Can we visit?" I asked, and I didn't have to fake my enthusiasm. If Shizuku Yaegashi was real, if she was the same person from the stories I'd read, then this could be an incredible opportunity. Not just for training, but for forming connections that might prove crucial in the years to come.
"I'll call them today," Mom promised. "If they have openings in their children's program, we can arrange for you to observe a class."
The rest of breakfast passed in comfortable family conversation, but my mind was already racing ahead, planning and considering possibilities. After finishing my dragon-shaped pancake—which had tasted suspiciously good for something made by a devil, though I supposed even supernatural beings could be good cooks—I excused myself to get ready for the day.
Back in my room, I sat on my bed and closed my eyes, trying to center myself. 'Ddraig, I need to understand what's happening to me. The tingles I've been feeling, the way my parents seem to sense something different about me—what's going on?'
[Your supernatural heritage is awakening in response to your restored memories. The Buné bloodline carries more than just devil power—it's connected to dragons, to ancient magics that predate the current system. Your mother's Sigurd Institution conditioning has also left traces in her aura that you're unconsciously detecting.]
'And my parents? What do they know?'
[They suspect you're developing supernatural abilities earlier than expected, but they don't understand the full scope of what you're becoming. Your father likely senses the stirring dragon blood, while your mother may recognize the signs of someone with combat potential.]
I took a deep breath and focused inward, trying to feel that tingling sensation again. This time, instead of trying to summon the Boosted Gear, I reached for something else—something that felt older, more primal.
Warmth spread through my chest, and for just a moment, my heterochromatic eyes flashed gold. I could sense things I'd never noticed before: the subtle difference in the air around my parents, the way energy seemed to flow through the house, the distant presence of something vast and ancient that felt somehow... familiar.
[Dragon blood awakening,] Ddraig confirmed. [But be careful. Power without control is dangerous, especially for one so young.]
I opened my eyes and looked at my hands. They appeared normal, but I could feel the potential thrumming beneath my skin. If I was going to navigate this new world successfully, I needed to understand and control these abilities. The Yaegashi dojo might provide the perfect cover for training—after all, what parent would question a child wanting to learn self-defense?
A knock on my door interrupted my thoughts. "Akira?" Dad's voice called. "I'm heading to work soon. Want to walk with me partway? We could stop by the park."
"Coming!" I called back, then paused. This could be an opportunity to test my developing senses, to see what else I might learn about my father.
I found Dad waiting by the front door, dressed in the simple uniform of a martial arts instructor. As we walked together through the quiet residential streets of Kuoh Town, I found myself studying him with new awareness.
"Dad," I said carefully, "have you ever had dreams about flying?"
His step hitched slightly, so briefly that I almost missed it. "Why do you ask?"
"The dreams Mom mentioned. They feel so real sometimes. Like I remember actually doing it, not just dreaming about it."
We walked in silence for a moment, passing beneath the canopy of cherry trees that lined the street. Finally, Dad spoke. "Some dreams are memories, Akira. Not of things we've done, but of things that are part of us. In our blood, our heritage."
My breath caught. That was as close to a confirmation as I was likely to get. "What kind of heritage?"
Dad stopped walking and knelt down to meet my eyes. His golden gaze was serious, almost grave. "The kind that carries great power, and great responsibility. The kind that means you'll never be entirely normal, no matter how much we might want that for you."
"Are you normal, Dad?"
A smile ghosted across his features, sad and knowing. "No, son. Neither your mother nor I are what most people would call normal. We've tried to build a normal life, but..." He reached out and gently touched my cheek. "Some things can't be hidden forever. When the time comes, we'll tell you everything. But for now, just know that whatever you're feeling, whatever's changing inside you, you're not alone."
I felt tears prick at my eyes—not just from emotion, but from the profound relief of not having to carry my secrets entirely by myself. "I love you, Dad."
"I love you too, kiddo. More than you know." Dad pulled me into a hug, and for a moment, I felt utterly safe and normal, despite the dragon residing in my soul and the power awakening in my blood.
As we separated and continued our walk, I made a silent promise to myself. Whatever that entity had planned for me, whatever role I was meant to play in reshaping the supernatural world, I would protect this—my family, my friends, the small pieces of happiness and normalcy that made existence worth fighting for.
[Noble sentiments,] Ddraig rumbled approvingly. [But remember, young dragon emperor—the path ahead will test every bond you hold dear. Power changes everything it touches, including those who wield it.]
I squared my small shoulders as we approached the park where I would part ways with Dad. 'Then I'll just have to make sure I'm strong enough to protect what matters, won't I?'
[Indeed. And your training begins now.]
As Dad headed off to work with a final wave, I found myself alone in the small neighborhood park. It was empty at this hour, with only the morning birds for company. Perfect for my first real attempt at understanding my abilities.
I found a secluded spot beneath a large oak tree and sat cross-legged on the grass, closing my eyes and reaching inward. This time, instead of trying to force anything, I simply observed—feeling the different energies within me, the way they flowed and interacted.
The Boosted Gear remained dormant, waiting for true need or powerful emotion to awaken it. But the dragon blood sang softly in my veins, and beneath that, something else—a connection to information, to knowledge itself. Archive Magic, I realized, the information-based system from Fairy Tail.
Tentatively, I reached for that feeling, imagining information as something I could grasp and manipulate. To my amazement, a faint, translucent screen appeared in my mind's eye—not visible to the outside world, but clear as day to my inner sight.
{Basic Archive Interface Established,} appeared on the screen in flowing script. {User Level: Novice. Available Functions: Memory Storage, Basic Information Organization.}
My eyes snapped open, my heart racing with excitement. It had worked. I'd actually accessed a magic system from Fairy Tail. If Archive Magic was possible, then potentially the others were too—Dragon Slayer Magic, Jutsu Shiki, even the Nen-like abilities through Touki.
[Impressive,] Ddraig admitted. [Though I'm not entirely sure what you just did. That felt... different from standard devil magic.]
'It's from another world entirely,' I explained silently. 'A magic system based on information and data manipulation. If I can master this, I can potentially learn and adapt other magical systems as well.'
[Ambitious. And potentially dangerous. Multiple magic systems can conflict with each other if not carefully managed.]
'Then I'll just have to be careful.'
I spent the next hour experimenting cautiously with the Archive interface, learning to store simple memories and organize basic information. It was exhausting work—my six-year-old body wasn't designed for magical manipulation—but by the time I headed home, I'd successfully created my first magical data file: a record of my conversation with Dad and the implications it carried.
As I walked back through the quiet streets, I reflected on how much my life had changed in just a few days. I was no longer just a reincarnated soul with knowledge of fictional worlds—I was becoming something new, something that bridged multiple realities and power systems.
The thought should have been terrifying. Instead, as I spotted my house ahead and caught sight of Mom tending to her small garden, her silver-white hair gleaming in the sunlight, I felt only determination. Whatever challenges lay ahead, whatever the mysterious entity expected of me, I would face them on my own terms.
After all, I had dragons to befriend, magic to master, and a world to change.
[Well said, partner,] Ddraig rumbled with approval. [Well said indeed.]