Death of the Gods

The environment was stifling, a dark warehouse with weathered concrete walls, lit only by hanging light bulbs from the ceiling, casting distorted shadows over the cold cement floor. The scent of iron hung in the air, mixed with sweat and something denser—a bittersweet smell of dried blood that never seemed to fully leave the space.

Rodrigo stood there, motionless, his feet firm on the worn floor. His hair fell over his eyes, concealing them, but his body radiated latent tension, like a cornered animal, ready to strike or flee at any moment. He wore a dark, cheap t-shirt, sweat-soaked and stained, along with worn jeans and battered sneakers.

In front of him stood the Captain. The man was a wall of muscle, a physique sculpted by survival and combat, with scars scattered across his bare torso, each one telling a story of past battles. His eyes were cold, calculating, but there was a glimmer of expectation in them. He held a combat knife in his right hand, casually spinning it between his calloused fingers.

Around them was a chaotic scene: dozens of blades scattered across the concrete floor, some rusted and others sharp enough to reflect the dim light from the bulbs. Pocket knives, machetes, daggers, knives of various sizes and styles. But what stood out the most was the katana. It rested on an improvised stand, its blade almost gleaming, clean and perfectly sharp, a stark contrast to the rest of the makeshift arsenal.

The Captain chuckled, a deep laugh filled with experience.

— "You see all this, kid?" — He made a sweeping gesture, pointing at the weapons around them. — "Each one of these beauties has cut flesh. They've tasted blood. Some of them have even killed more than one bastard."

Rodrigo remained silent, observing, absorbing every word. His body was relaxed on the outside, but internally, every muscle was tense, waiting for the right moment.

The Captain then tossed the knife to the ground, right between Rodrigo's feet.

— "Pick it up. I want to see if you learned anything."

Rodrigo glanced at the fallen blade. The steel glinted treacherously under the yellowish light. He took a deep breath and, without hesitation, crouched to grab it. His fingers closed around the hilt firmly, and in that instant, he felt the familiar weight of the blade in his hand.

The Captain smiled, stepping back and picking up another knife from the ground. He spun the blade with skill before pointing it at Rodrigo.

— "Let's see if you have the guts to use that thing for real."

Rodrigo raised the knife to chest height, his fingers gripping the hilt tightly. He didn't need words. The fight had already begun before either of them moved.

— "Come on, kid," — the Captain provoked, a wild gleam in his eyes.

And then, like a predator testing its prey, he advanced.

The tension in the air became almost palpable. The hum of the light bulbs was drowned out by the controlled breathing of the two men. Rodrigo felt the sweat trickling down his neck, the cold knife in his firm hand. The Captain grinned, a predator's smile in front of its prey, but Rodrigo wasn't prey.

The first move was subtle, yet lethal. The Captain lunged forward with a swift step, the blade in his hand tracing a treacherous arc aimed at Rodrigo's abdomen. But Rodrigo wasn't an amateur. He stepped back, out of the range of the cut, and immediately counterattacked with a thrust to the chest.

The Captain dodged with a spin of his body, too agile for a man of his build. In an instant, he was at Rodrigo's side, and before the ex-drug dealer could react, an iron fist collided with his ribs. The impact was dry, stealing part of his breath.

Rodrigo stumbled a step to the side, but didn't waste time. He bent his knee and twisted his hip in a fluid motion, delivering a well-placed low kick to the Captain's leg. The blow struck his calf with force, causing the big man to lose a bit of his balance.

— "Heh, so you learned how to kick too, huh?" — The Captain mocked, recovering with a leap backward.

Rodrigo didn't respond. His eyes were fixed on the opponent's movements, analyzing every detail. He knew he wouldn't win against this man just with strength. The Captain was a street combat veteran, a monster of experience and brutality. Rodrigo needed to be faster, more calculated.

With a burst of speed, Rodrigo advanced, launching a diagonal knife strike aimed at the Captain's shoulder. The man skillfully blocked with his forearm, deflecting the blade to the side. But Rodrigo had already anticipated this. He used the momentum to spin his body and deliver a spinning elbow to the Captain's temple.

The impact was solid, the muffled sound of the collision echoing through the warehouse. The Captain grunted, stumbling a step backward.

Rodrigo didn't give him space. He pressed the attack, feinting another thrust with the knife, but at the last moment, he released the blade and grabbed the Captain's wrist, pulling him close. Then, his knee shot up with force, aiming for the opponent's stomach.

But the Captain was also clever. He used Rodrigo's own movement against him, twisting his body and launching a right hook straight to the ex-drug dealer's jaw.

The impact made Rodrigo's vision wobble. He tasted the metallic tang of blood in his mouth, but didn't fall. He forced himself to keep his balance, pulling back quickly to avoid a follow-up.

The Captain laughed, wiping the blood trickling from the corner of his mouth.

— "That was good, kid... but not enough."

Rodrigo spat on the ground, rotated his shoulders, and raised his guard again. His heart pounded in his chest, adrenaline burning through his veins.

The fight was far from over.

Rodrigo tasted the blood in his mouth, a faint ringing in his ear from the blow he'd taken. He blinked rapidly to clear the dizziness and locked his eyes on the Captain. The man was a monster. His physique seemed sculpted for war, dense, firm muscles made not just to intimidate, but to destroy. The scar cutting across his left pectoral told stories of past battles, each mark on his body a testament to his experience.

Rodrigo, on the other hand, was lighter, more agile. His advantage lay in speed and adaptability. If he tried to match strength with that veteran, he would be crushed. But if he played it smart, he could find weaknesses in the Captain's impenetrable defense.

The man smiled, as if he could read Rodrigo's thoughts.

— "It's been a while since I've had this much fun..." — he murmured, spinning the knife in his hand with terrifying skill. — "Since the damn war between Brazil and Asia."

Rodrigo felt a shiver run down his spine. The war. That brutal conflict that devastated territories, claimed thousands of lives, and left irreparable scars on world history. He knew that the Captain had served as a mercenary, hired for cleanup operations in militarized slums and conflict zones. If there was a man who knew the art of death, it was him.

Rodrigo couldn't afford to hesitate.

He advanced with a quick move, feinting a direct attack to the Captain's chest. The veteran raised the knife to block, but Rodrigo was already one step ahead. He changed direction at the last moment, lowering his body and delivering a violent low kick to the side of the Captain's knee.

The strike hit dead-on. The impact caused the veteran's knee to give for an instant, a brief moment of vulnerability. Rodrigo seized the opening and spun his body, landing a downward elbow strike to the Captain's face.

The veteran's blade rose reflexively, and Rodrigo had to pull back quickly to avoid a counterstrike. The man spat on the ground, wiping the corner of his mouth.

"Interesting... you know how to use your speed. But you're still missing something."

Before Rodrigo could react, the Captain exploded toward him.

It was like being hit by a truck. The veteran used his brute strength to close the distance between them in an instant, and Rodrigo barely had time to raise his guard before a powerful jab struck his stomach.

The air rushed out of his lungs. He staggered backward, trying to catch his breath, but the Captain didn't give him any space. A right cross followed quickly, aiming for his chin. Rodrigo, in the last moment, managed to dodge by turning his head to the side, but the wind of the blow passed just by his skin.

He couldn't afford to be hit directly again. If he took another hit like that, it would be over.

Rodrigo retreated, throwing himself backward and sliding across the rough ground. The Captain advanced like a predator, but Rodrigo used his advantage. He shifted sideways and, at the exact moment the Captain tried to turn and follow, delivered a front kick to the veteran's knee.

The impact made the Captain stumble. Rodrigo didn't hesitate. He moved forward with a left jab, aiming for the opponent's face.

But the Captain smiled.

At the last moment, he lowered his head and collided with Rodrigo, driving his shoulder into his chest.

Rodrigo felt the force of the impact tear the air from his lungs again. His body was thrown backward, his feet dragging across the concrete. He managed to stay on his feet, but his legs were shaking.

The Captain laughed.

"You've got talent, kid. If you'd met me in the war, you would have been a decent soldier."

Rodrigo spat some blood, gasping, but didn't back down. He raised his fists again, his eyes shining with determination.

The Captain gripped the knife firmly, his calloused fingers wrapped around the handle like it was part of his own flesh. But then, something changed. His smile widened, and he let out a rough laugh, filled with an almost animalistic satisfaction.

Without warning, he spun the knife in his fingers one last time before letting it fall to the concrete floor with a dry clink. The sound echoed through the confined space, a precursor to something more primal and brutal.

"Enough of this shit," he muttered, flexing his fingers. His fists slowly closed, as if they could already feel the impact of flesh breaking under his strength. "I prefer to feel my fists crushing your skin."

Rodrigo stood still for a moment, studying the Captain. His eyes, hidden under the shadow of his fringe, narrowed. He analyzed everything: the veteran's stance, the tension in his muscles, the slight movement of his breath.

Then, without a word, Rodrigo followed suit.

The knife he held slipped from his hand and fell to the ground, spinning once before stopping next to the Captain's blade. The gesture was a mutual acknowledgment. The fight would now be on the basis of raw strength, with no steel between them.

The two began to walk slowly toward each other, their footsteps echoing in the silent warehouse. Every movement was measured, every breath calculated. There was no rush. No need for words. Just the certainty that, in the next moment, hell would break loose between them.

When they were only a few steps apart, they both stopped.

The Captain raised his fists first, his posture solid like a veteran fighter. His shoulders relaxed, feet firmly planted on the ground, ready to absorb any impact. His body was like a fortress, resilient and impenetrable.

Rodrigo, on the other hand, took a more fluid stance, his fists raised flexibly, ready to dodge and counter at the right moment. He didn't have the Captain's raw strength, but he was faster. His advantage was in speed and precision.

For a few seconds, time seemed to freeze.

The air was heavy.

The muscles were tense.

And then, without warning...

The fight began again.

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Rodrigo woke up violently, as if he had been yanked out of a deep abyss. His body reacted before his mind could even process where he was.

He shot up, muscles still tense from the adrenaline of the dream. His eyes scanned the surroundings with an almost animalistic instinct, as if expecting to find the Captain there, ready to continue the fight.

But there was no cold concrete beneath his feet.

There was no smell of sweat and blood in the air.

There were no blades scattered on the floor.

Only the welcoming silence of the luxurious Tohno mansion bedroom.

The abrupt shift between worlds hit Rodrigo like a punch. Dizziness came immediately, a sharp vertigo that made the room spin for a moment. He staggered, feeling the weight of his body sway, and had to place one hand on the edge of the bed to avoid falling.

His heart pounded against his chest, his breath heavy. For a moment, he had to remind himself where he was.

"I'm not there anymore..."

But the sensation of the dream still lingered on his skin. The heat of the fight. The metallic scent of blood that never existed. The echo of the Captain's laugh.

Rodrigo closed his eyes for a moment, inhaling deeply, trying to anchor himself in reality.

He was in the mansion. In the room he now called his. And the nightmare...

No, the memory...

Was left behind.

But for how long?

Rodrigo ran a hand over his face, feeling his skin hot and sweaty. His breath was still heavy, but slowly, he began to calm down.

He wasn't there anymore.

He wasn't that Rodrigo anymore.

The life he lived before all this, before waking up in this body, before Shiki Tohno, had already been left behind.

The past is the past.

Nothing more than that.

He repeated this phrase mentally like a mantra, trying to bury the memories that kept resurfacing. He had already left that world of violence and chaos. There was no need to look back.

Still… it was hard to ignore.

Rodrigo sighed deeply and closed his eyes for a moment, gathering his composure. When he opened them again, his gaze was no longer so stormy.

He needed to focus on the present. On what was ahead. On the new life he had now.

Rodrigo slowly got up, still feeling the light dizziness from the earlier abrupt movement. He took a deep breath and walked over to the window.

With a single firm tug, he pulled back the curtain, allowing the sunlight to flood the room. The golden glow bathed the space, revealing details hidden in the shadows of the early morning. The luxurious furniture of the Tohno mansion reflected the light subtly, while the carpet absorbed the warmth of the rising day.

But Rodrigo wasn't really seeing any of it.

His mind pulled him back to the past.

To a time when daylight didn't represent safety, but a threat.

A memory hit him like a punch to the stomach.

Years ago…

The room was bathed in a bluish twilight, lit only by the glow of screens and the intermittent blinking of LEDs on machines. The air was thick, carrying the smell of burnt solder, melted plastic, and the metallic remnants of newly assembled circuits. There was a meticulous mess around: disassembled motherboards, cables scattered like snakes on the floor, 3D printers still humming as they completed enigmatic pieces.

In the center of the digital chaos, Jack stood motionless before multiple screens, his eyes locked on the codes filling them. His pale face seemed even more sickly under the artificial light, and the deep bags under his eyes showed nights of no sleep. His fingers moved quickly, typing as if part of a frantic ritual.

Rodrigo, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, watched him silently. After long seconds, he sighed.

"You need to sleep, Jack."

The response came without hesitation, the voice heavy with obsession.

"I can't. Not until my project is exactly at the level I want."

Rodrigo furrowed his brow, shifting his gaze to the chaos around them. His instincts were alert, sensing that Jack was nearing a point of no return. He walked slowly across the room, lightly kicking aside some scattered parts until he reached a counter where several unfinished creations rested. Among them were pieces of metal alloys molded by 3D printing, dismantled drone shells, and a series of sharp blades with peculiar designs, as if sculpted from a futuristic and brutal vision.

Rodrigo picked up one of the blades and examined it against the bluish light.

"Are there more of these around?"

Jack remained absorbed in the screen, but his voice was firm.

"Rodrigo… don't you remember what we talked about when we met?"

The question made Rodrigo raise an eyebrow.

Then, like an electric shock, the memory emerged from the fog of his mind.

He saw Jack much younger, a skinny kid with restless eyes, the same insane spark he carried to this day. They were in a very different place—an alleyway, surrounded by trash and dirty concrete, with the city pulsing in the background. At that time, they were just pre-teens, two survivors amidst the rot of the streets.

Jack was looking at his hands, fingers stained with grease, speaking with feverish excitement.

"I want to create something. Something alive, you know? I want to know what it's like… to be a creator."

Rodrigo had looked at him with disdain back then, not understanding the obsession of the kid.

"Create what?"

Jack smiled, his eyes shining with fascination.

"Something of mine. Just like God created us, I want to know what it's like to create. I want to feel that power."

Rodrigo remembered laughing at that, calling Jack crazy. But now, years later, standing in that makeshift lab, watching Jack completely absorbed in his work, he realized that this wasn't just a childish fantasy.

Jack had always wanted to be a creator.

And now, Rodrigo feared exactly what he was about to create.

Rodrigo dropped the blade back onto the counter and crossed his arms, staring at Jack with an analytical look. The hum of the machines filled the silence between them, but he ignored it.

"Create something alive?" Rodrigo repeated, raising an eyebrow. "Wouldn't that be easier... I don't know, just have a kid and become a father?"

Jack paused for a moment. Just for an instant, his fingers ceased their frenzy on the keyboard, and he tilted his head slightly back, as if pondering the question.

Then, a low, dry laugh escaped his lips.

"You really think creating a child is the same as creating life?" His voice had a playful tone, but his eyes burned with something deeper. He turned the chair to face Rodrigo, the shadows from the blue screen casting a ghostly glow on his pale face. "Creating a child is biology. A math equation, a mix of genes, a chance disguised as fate."

Jack pointed to the screens around him, his eyes glowing with obsession.

"What I want to do is design life. Something that isn't limited by chance, but shaped by my own hands. Not a piece of flesh that grows and deteriorates, but something that evolves beyond human limitations."

Rodrigo furrowed his brow.

— Are you talking about artificial intelligence?

Jack let out an impatient sigh and waved his hands, as if Rodrigo were seeing everything in a shallow way.

— Not just that. Most AIs are just advanced programs, cheap replicas of human cognition, but without real autonomy. I want something that can recreate itself, Rodrigo. Something that has true awareness. That can improve itself, learn, break free from its initial programming.

Rodrigo stood silent for a few seconds.

He had seen Jack obsessed before. In codes, circuits, systems that seemed straight out of science fiction. But this? This was different.

It was madness.

Rodrigo took a deep breath, rubbing the back of his neck.

— You want to play God.

Jack smiled. A small smile, but one that carried something unsettling.

— Not play. I want to be.

Rodrigo let out a long sigh, running his hand over his face.

— Fuck, why do I always have terrible luck picking the people who stick by me?

Jack laughed, a dry, short laugh, before leaning back in the swivel chair.

— Maybe because you're crazy in your own way.

Rodrigo snorted but didn't disagree.

— Alright. You want an AI that rewrites itself. That learns, evolves, and escapes its own constraints. But do you have any idea of the monster you're trying to create?

Jack crossed his arms, watching Rodrigo with a curious look.

— Oh, are you going to give me a science lesson now?

Rodrigo rolled his eyes.

— You don't need to be a genius to know that kind of thing is going to need an insane amount of energy. You want processors that can handle an AI rewriting itself? That's going to require massive power consumption. Not to mention water.

Jack raised an eyebrow.

— Water?

— For cooling, asshole. — Rodrigo pointed to the modified cases on the counter. — Do you think those little pieces of shit are going to handle running something at that level? No fucking way. The heat generated by that processing would fry everything in seconds. You'd need an industrial cooling system. Something like a data center.

Jack smiled, his eyes lighting up as if he'd just received a challenge.

— So basically, I need a whole building just to support this AI?

Rodrigo crossed his arms.

— That's if you can get enough energy to keep that shit running.

Jack leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

— Well... then I just need a way to get that energy.

Rodrigo narrowed his eyes.

— Are you seriously considering this shit?

Jack smiled.

— I don't just consider, Rodrigo. I do.

Jack got up from the swivel chair with a lazy movement, walking over to a small desk cluttered with electronic components, loose cables, and stacks of hand-bound notebooks. He rummaged through the space for a few seconds before pulling out a worn book by the edge.

Without warning, he tossed the book toward Rodrigo.

Rodrigo, with sharp reflexes, caught it mid-air without even hesitating. The weight of the object was unexpected—hardcover, thick pages, clearly something Jack valued.

— And this? — Rodrigo raised an eyebrow, quickly flipping through the first pages.

Jack leaned back against the desk, crossing his arms and showing a toothy grin.

— In case you ever want to play God too.

Rodrigo looked at him skeptically.

Jack laughed.

— Oh, come on! I already taught you how to code, remember? You'd do fine with this.

Rodrigo ran his thumb over the edge of the book, feeling the texture of the aged pages. The content was filled with diagrams, complex codes, theories on machine learning, and neural processing. This wasn't just any book—it was a manual.

Rodrigo sighed, closing the book with a sharp thud.

— So, what you're saying is that if I want to fuck humanity over, it's all here?

Jack shrugged.

— Only if you're dumb enough to let it get out of control.

Rodrigo chuckled lightly, but his eyes remained fixed on the book. Something inside him told him that this shit was going to be important someday.

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.

Rodrigo rubbed his face, brushing away the remnants of sleep as he stared at the floor of the room. The memory of Jack still lingered in his mind like an annoying ghost. He crossed his arms, staring into the nothingness for a moment, then turned and walked over to the dresser where some clothes had been left for him.

That manual...

That damn book Jack had thrown at him some time ago still haunted his thoughts. A jumble of codes, diagrams, theories, and calculations that bordered on insanity. Jack had always been a lunatic, but Rodrigo knew there was something real in his obsession.

Before he disappeared, Jack had been working tirelessly on that project. Creating an intelligence that could reprogram itself. Something beyond any conventional AI, something that didn't just follow commands, but evolved on its own, learned, adapted... became something alive.

Rodrigo was never a genius like Jack, but he wasn't an idiot. He knew that if this was really possible, the implications were enormous. It wasn't just an AI... it was an artificial entity, a new form of existence.

And Jack disappeared before he could finish.

Rodrigo took a deep breath, staring at his own hand for a moment. He had never heard from him again. No clues, no messages. It was as if Jack had been erased from the world.

Whatever it was he had been creating, Rodrigo didn't know if he wanted to find out.

But now, in this new reality, in a world where vampires and supernatural powers existed... maybe that knowledge would be more useful than he imagined.

Rodrigo blinked a few times, frowning as he stared at himself in the mirror.

The first thing that caught his attention was the clothes. He was sure he had gone to bed in that slightly wrinkled blue school uniform, still carrying the faint smell of hospital on the fabric. But now? Now he was wearing an immaculate, clean, soft pajama... and the most concerning part: it was scented.

Rodrigo brought one hand to the collar of the pajama, pulling the fabric slightly and sniffing.

— … Lavender?

His gaze narrowed.

Something was really wrong here.

He lowered the collar a bit, peeking at his own chest, and found that he was completely clean. No dust, no sweat, no remnants of the previous night. He even ran his hand over his face, feeling the skin softer, as if it had been treated with some kind of face cream.

Rodrigo froze.

A terrifying thought struck him like a bolt of lightning.

Someone gave him a bath.

His eyes widened, and he quickly turned to the room as if expecting to find some suspect there. The room was empty, but he could feel the weight of the revelation pressing on his chest.

Someone gave him a bath while he was asleep.

And there were only two main suspects.

Hisui and Kohaku.

Rodrigo swallowed hard.

The gears of paranoia started spinning in his mind. He was unconscious. They took off his clothes. They rubbed him down. They...

Rodrigo felt a chill run down his spine.

Did they see his sword before it was at its peak?!

— … Fucking hell.

He put his hands on his head, pacing in circles around the room.

— This can't have happened… This can't have happened…

Rodrigo suddenly turned toward the mirror, pointing at his own reflection with an accusing look.

— Look at you, you bastard! You've been dishonored! Molested by two anime maids!

He took a deep breath, trying to calm down, but the shame only grew. What did they think when they saw him like that? Did they comment on it?

Rodrigo felt a mix of humiliation and disbelief.

He needed answers. And more importantly… he needed to know if either of them had said anything about the size of his sword.

He gritted his teeth, determined.

Today, he would confront Hisui and Kohaku.

Rodrigo stopped in front of the mirror, his eyes still slightly wide, trying to process the situation.

He let out a long sigh, running his hands over his face.

— Alright... let's organize this shit.

He turned to the side, looking at his silhouette in the reflection, and a new thought arose.

He had no idea how big the original Shiki was.

Had he at least kept the same proportions?

Rodrigo looked down but hesitated.

— … No. I'm not going to humiliate myself like this.

But the thought kept hammering in his mind.

After all, it was a matter of male honor.

He sighed, stepping away from the mirror.

— I'll figure this shit out later.

He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to shake off those unnecessary thoughts, and that's when an important detail came to his mind.

Akiha.

Before he went to sleep, she had said something about the school.

— Ah, shit...

Rodrigo looked at the clock in the room, trying to calculate how much time he had before needing to leave.

He didn't even know what Shiki Tohno's routine was. What was his school like? Who went there? He would have to mingle with strangers, pretending to be someone he wasn't.

Rodrigo felt a slight headache forming.

He wasn't mentally prepared for this shit.

But he had no choice.

With another heavy sigh, Rodrigo began to prepare himself.

Rodrigo walked over to the wardrobe and opened it with a single motion, expecting to find something obvious like a school uniform standing out among the clothes.

What he saw, however, was a real sea of fabrics.

Different styles of clothing hung, folded in drawers or organized in a way that was a bit too formal for his taste.

The problem?

He had no idea which one was the school uniform.

— … Fuck.

He furrowed his brow, pulling out some random pieces.

A black jacket? No.

A white dress shirt? Maybe, but… what about the bottom part?

Rodrigo began rummaging through the drawers, trying to find something that matched his vague memory of Japanese uniforms.

But he had no reference.

After all, his experience with Tsukihime had more to do with the characters and less with the mundane details of the setting.

After a few seconds of staring at the clothes, Rodrigo sighed and closed the wardrobe.

— You know what? I'll throw on whatever and fuck it.

He turned to leave the room, but the moment his hand was about to reach for the doorknob...

The door opened on its own.

Rodrigo froze.

Standing before him, holding a neatly folded set of blue clothes with surgical precision... was Hisui.

The red-haired maid with navy-blue eyes stared at him with her usual serene expression, but there was something about the way she looked at him that made him feel a slight discomfort.

Rodrigo blinked a few times, trying to make sense of the situation.

Hisui slightly lifted the clothes, as if presenting a gift.

"Good morning, Shiki-sama. Akiha-sama asked me to bring your school uniform."

Rodrigo stood still for a moment, processing the information.

He glanced at the folded blue fabric and then back to Hisui's cold, calculating eyes.

"... I was about to choose something myself."

"I see. But your choice would have been wrong."

Rodrigo opened his mouth to retort, but stopped.

Because she was right.

He sighed and took the clothes from her hands.

"Thanks, then."

Hisui gave a slight bow in a formal gesture.

"If you need anything else, I'll be at your service."

She turned and left without another word, leaving Rodrigo standing by the door, holding the uniform.

He looked at the clothes, then at the closet, and back at the door.

"... I would've messed up big time, huh?"

Rodrigo let out a dry chuckle before closing the door and starting to change.

Rodrigo pulled at the collar of the uniform, adjusting himself as he walked toward the door.

The fabric was comfortable, but the collar irritated him a bit.

He ran a hand through his hair, messing it up a bit to get rid of the too-neat look. He was never the type of guy who liked a perfectly put-together appearance.

Before leaving completely, he took off his glasses and hung them on the collar of his shirt.

His eyes adjusted to the hallway light.

He sighed and took a step out.

And that's when he noticed Hisui.

The maid was standing right in front of the door, erect like a statue, with her hands clasped in front of her apron.

Rodrigo wasn't startled, but he blinked a few times.

Had she been there the whole time?

"Shiki-sama."

Her voice was soft and formal, carrying that usual mechanical tone.

"Akiha-sama is waiting in the dining room for breakfast. I recommend you eat before going to school."

Rodrigo rubbed the back of his neck, letting out a tired sigh.

"So it's mandatory?"

"No, but highly recommended."

Rodrigo snickered.

"In that case, refusing would be rude, right?"

Hisui tilted her head slightly.

"Yes."

Rodrigo passed by her, beginning to walk down the hallway.

Hisui turned in sync with his steps, following him in silence.

Rodrigo felt her gaze on his back for a moment and, without looking back, commented:

"You don't blink, huh?"

"Not when I'm on duty."

Rodrigo chuckled quietly.

"I'll pretend I didn't hear that."

And with that, he made his way to the dining room, where Akiha was waiting.

Rodrigo descended the first steps of the staircase at a leisurely pace, feeling the polished wood creak slightly under his feet.

Hisui followed closely behind him, silent as a shadow.

He looked down at the grand entrance of the mansion below, where a red carpet stretched across the hall, contrasting with the white columns and stained-glass windows filtering the morning light.

Definitely a beautiful place.

Rodrigo stretched his arms above his head, feeling his joints crack.

"Man... it's still weird to sleep in a real bed," he commented, his voice heavy with laziness.

He yawned widely, feeling his body still a bit sluggish from sleep.

Hisui, who had descended a step behind him, kept her serene expression.

"You didn't sleep in beds before, sir?"

Rodrigo let out a nasal laugh.

"Not this kind. I've slept on tatami mats, hard sofas, concrete floors... and when there was nothing, even in the woods."

Hisui blinked slowly.

"You've gone through hardships."

Rodrigo gave a crooked smile.

"Guess you could say that. But now I'm here, in a mansion with a bed so comfortable it almost killed me from too much sleep."

He shook his head, as if trying to shake off any lingering fatigue.

Hisui remained silent for a moment before finally responding:

"I'm glad you rested well, Shiki-sama."

Rodrigo couldn't help but let out a small laugh.

"You speak so formally, you know?"

Hisui simply lowered her head slightly, as if confirming without the need for words.

Rodrigo scratched the back of his neck and continued down the stairs, already smelling the faint scent of breakfast coming from the dining room.

He crossed the last part of the hallway before entering the main dining room, where the refined atmosphere of the Tohno mansion was even more present.

The polished wooden floor reflected the soft light coming through the large windows. The long, impeccably arranged dining table displayed an almost intimidating elegance.

And in the center of that aristocratic setting was Akiha.

Seated with impeccable posture, she held a delicate cup of tea between her fingers. Her dark-blue eyes lifted toward Rodrigo as he entered, analyzing him with a gaze that mixed assessment and expectation.

Rodrigo noticed that, even without saying a word, Akiha exuded an air of authority.

This girl definitely isn't someone who's easily swayed.

He walked up to the table, feeling the weight of her "sisterly" gaze.

Hisui, as silent as ever, discreetly positioned herself beside him, waiting for any orders.

Rodrigo then pulled out a chair and sat down, casting a quick glance at the breakfast spread before finally looking at Akiha.

The silence between them lasted a few seconds, the only sound being the soft clink of the tea being set down on its saucer.

Finally, Akiha broke the silence.

"Did you sleep well, Onii-chan?" she asked, her voice carrying a calmness that revealed nothing but a neutral tone.

Rodrigo walked over to one of the chairs around the large dining table, but instead of sitting with Akiha's refined posture, he just plopped down in the seat, sinking into the luxurious upholstery like he was at home.

He let out a long sigh of satisfaction before responding, completely relaxing.

"I slept like a newborn baby."

The casual response broke the formality of the atmosphere a little, but to his surprise, Akiha didn't react with disdain or reprimand. Instead, she stayed silent, merely watching him with that analytical gaze.

The tension of silence settled in for a few seconds, and Rodrigo felt that something was about to be said.

— Shiki... — Akiha finally spoke, her tone calm, but there was a slight curiosity in her voice. — Why aren't you wearing your glasses?

Rodrigo raised an eyebrow, as if he had just now remembered the detail. He pulled the glasses that were hanging from the collar of his shirt and twirled them lightly between his fingers.

— Oh, that? — He looked directly at Akiha and sighed. — Decided to change up the look a bit.

The answer was simple, but enough to leave her pondering. Akiha fell silent for a few moments, her eyes fixed on Rodrigo as if she were trying to decipher him.

Rodrigo, paying attention to the smallest details, noticed something curious.

She didn't seem suspicious, irritated, or indifferent. On the contrary.

There was a subtle gleam in her eyes and an almost imperceptible relaxation in her posture.

She was... happy?

Rodrigo wasn't sure, but something in Akiha's expression suggested she wasn't displeased with the change.

He raised an eyebrow and gave her a small smile.

— What's up? — he asked, casually.

Akiha quickly regained her composure and looked away, bringing the teacup to her lips to hide any expression that might give away her state of mind.

— Nothing — she replied, her voice firm but with a slightly softer tone than before.

Rodrigo smiled inwardly.

Interesting...

— Anyway, speaking of changes... — He looked directly at Akiha, a hint of teasing in his voice. — What about that school crap you mentioned yesterday?

Akiha, still holding the teacup, slowly lowered it onto the saucer and gave Rodrigo a firm look.

— "Crap," Shiki? — She repeated the word with a subtle disapproval.

Rodrigo just shrugged.

— You got it. School, classroom, teachers being a pain, homework... all that stuff. Do I really need to go?

Akiha let out a long sigh, closing her eyes for a moment before meeting his gaze again.

— Yes, you do. — She placed the teacup back on the saucer with a controlled movement. — Shiki, you've been gone for five years. Not just two.

Rodrigo blinked.

— Five?

He had to hold back a more abrupt reaction. His brain immediately started working, trying to reorganize the timeline. He knew he had taken over Shiki's body recently, but until this point, he had thought Shiki had disappeared for only two years.

Five years?

Akiha noticed his confusion and narrowed her eyes.

— You're acting like you don't know this.

Rodrigo quickly disguised it, rubbing the back of his neck and letting out an exaggerated sigh.

— No, no... it's just... it feels like a long time, you know?

Akiha kept her sharp gaze on him for a moment before continuing.

— Your absence was hard enough for everyone. Now that you're back, skipping school would just raise more suspicions.

Rodrigo let out a theatrical sigh and leaned back further in his chair, staring at the ceiling.

— So I really have to play this part...

— It's not a part, Shiki. — Akiha corrected him, her tone serious. — You have responsibilities. And, to everyone, you're still the heir to the Tohno family.

Rodrigo looked at her and realized there was no room for argument.

He had no choice.

He scratched the back of his neck and let out a resigned sigh.

— Fine, fine... I'll go. But if I die of boredom, it's your fault.

Akiha closed her eyes for a moment and took another sip of tea, as if that was already a personal victory.

— Just try to behave.

Rodrigo smiled wryly.

— No promises.

He then looked at the table, noticing that breakfast hadn't been served yet.

— Alright... But before that, is there anything to eat? I don't want to spend the whole day dealing with that "crap" on an empty stomach.

Akiha sighed again, but this time, there was a small smile on her face.

— Hisui should be bringing it soon.

And, as if on cue, delicate footsteps could be heard approaching.

Rodrigo shifted his gaze from Akiha and focused on the sound of the steps drawing nearer. His eyes, still heavy with the morning, followed Hisui's entrance, walking with impeccable posture, carrying a perfectly balanced tray.

His stomach rumbled softly, reminding him why he had asked about food.

He needed to eat something before dealing with that "wonderful" experience of interacting with Japanese teenagers.

He could already imagine it: a bunch of proper students, whispering amongst themselves, glancing at him sideways. And, of course, the inevitable rumors about his disappearance and return. The typical school gossip.

Rodrigo rubbed his temple with two fingers.

"Fuck... this is gonna suck."

Hisui, as always, remained silent as she approached. Her footsteps were almost ethereal, as if she were floating over the ground. When she reached the table, she gently bent down and began arranging the meal in front of Rodrigo with calm, precise gestures.

The aroma of breakfast finally reached him, and Rodrigo realized it was a typical Japanese meal.

Perfectly cooked white rice, miso soup steaming in a small porcelain bowl, grilled fish with an impeccable presentation, and some tsukemono (pickled vegetables) arranged on a plate beside it. To top it off, a small portion of tamagoyaki, that rolled omelet which seemed simple, but took absurd skill to perfect.

Rodrigo looked at the meal for a moment, feeling a slight internal conflict.

He wasn't exactly a fan of such a traditional breakfast. To him, bread, black coffee, and maybe a slice of cheese were more than enough. But considering where he was, complaining would be stupid.

Besides, he was hungry.

And hunger always won over any fuss.

— Thanks, Hisui. — He said casually, grabbing the chopsticks and separating them with a small snap.

The maid gave a subtle bow.

— Enjoy your meal, Shiki-sama.

Rodrigo blinked.

That form of address still sounded strange.

He looked at Akiha, who was calmly sipping her tea, seeming satisfied with the meal served.

Rodrigo let out a sigh and grabbed a piece of tamagoyaki with the chopsticks, bringing it to his mouth.

The sweet flavor of the omelet mixed with the soft texture, and he realized it was better than he had expected.

Good. At least the food was good.

Now, he just had to endure the hell that was coming next.

Rodrigo held the chopsticks as if they were an extension of his own fingers and began devouring the food without any concern for manners.

He was starving.

The rice was swallowed in large bites, the miso soup barely had time to cool before being slurped down, and the grilled fish quickly disappeared from his plate. He chewed quickly, swallowing and grabbing more, the frantic pace of someone used to eating as if the next meal was uncertain.

Akiha, across the table, held her teacup with a refined motion, watching silently. Her gaze seemed a mix of disdain and resignation, as if she had already expected this kind of behavior from her "troublesome" brother.

Rodrigo didn't care.

As he chewed a piece of tamagoyaki, his mind registered an interesting detail: the food was damn good.

He swallowed and, without hesitation, turned to Hisui, who stood silently beside him, waiting.

— Hey, Hisui. — He spoke between bites, still holding the chopsticks. — Did you make this?

Hisui blinked once, her expression as neutral as ever, before she subtly shook her head.

— No, Shiki-sama. It was my Nii-san who made it.

Rodrigo stopped for a second, blinking before smiling.

— Ah... So it was Kohaku.

That made sense. She seemed like the type who could cook well.

He grabbed another piece of fish, chewed it, and pointed the chopsticks at Hisui.

— Tell her it's fucking good.

Hisui hesitated for a brief moment.

Rodrigo's way of speaking was different from the Shiki she knew. Looser, rougher. But at the same time, she noticed that he sounded genuine.

So, without showing emotion, she gave a slight nod.

— Yes, Shiki-sama. I will pass on your message.

Rodrigo just nodded and went back to devouring his meal.

Meanwhile, Akiha set her tea cup back on its saucer, letting out a discreet sigh.

— Could you at least try to eat like a civilized person?

Rodrigo, without looking at her, grabbed another handful of rice with his chopsticks.

— I'm eating, aren't I?

Akiha furrowed her brows slightly but chose not to continue the argument.

Rodrigo just smiled to himself.

If the food was good, he was going to enjoy it. Manners could wait.

Rodrigo let out a satisfied sigh, pushing the empty plate forward. The rice pot was already empty, as were the other dishes. He ran a hand over his stomach, feeling the weight of a well-enjoyed meal, and then stood up.

— Alright, I guess it's time to go to this school.

He raised his arms and stretched, feeling his muscles relax.

But then he stopped.

Something important crossed his mind.

He furrowed his brows, processing the thought, and then turned to Akiha, who was still sitting, her posture perfect, with her tea cup in hand.

— Wait a second.

She raised an eyebrow.

Rodrigo crossed his arms.

— I have no fucking clue where this school is.

Akiha sighed, closing her eyes for a moment as if gathering patience.

— Naturally. You've been gone for years. Of course, you wouldn't remember the way.

Rodrigo scratched the back of his neck, silently agreeing.

But before Akiha could say anything, he raised a hand.

— But, look... Before you get any ideas, I don't want anyone taking me there.

Akiha furrowed her brows.

Hisui, standing beside her, kept her neutral expression.

— That's ridiculous. — Akiha said, closing her eyes and setting the tea cup back in its saucer. — You don't know where the school is, so naturally, someone will have to take you.

Rodrigo shook his head.

— Nah. If you just tell me where it is, I'll figure it out.

Akiha crossed her arms, visibly annoyed.

— And why, exactly, don't you want anyone to accompany you?

Rodrigo gave a small smile, grabbed the glasses hanging from his shirt collar, and put them back on his face.

— Because I'm a free man.

Akiha narrowed her eyes.

Rodrigo just smirked, waiting for her response.