Orengeflame
patreon
Dimensional Watch DXD Chapter 13: The Path Forward
🕑 Added 2025-03-07 19:41:16 +0000 UTCThe rhythmic crash of waves against the shore was the first thing Issei registered as he drifted back to consciousness. His body felt like lead—every muscle aching, his limbs sluggish, and his skin raw from salt seeping into countless cuts. A biting chill clung to his drenched clothes despite the sun’s feeble attempts to dry him. Sand clung to his face, his matted hair plastered against his forehead. Every breath carried the taste of salt, and every twitch of his fingers sent a dull ache through his nerves.
He tried to push himself up, but his arms trembled under his weight, the soreness from battle screaming at him to stay down. The effort sent sharp pangs through his ribs, forcing him to grit his teeth as he fought through the pain. It was like his own body was rebelling against him, demanding rest. But rest wasn’t an option.
A low groan escaped his lips as he clenched his fists in the damp sand, forcing himself to move.
‘I can’t believe I actually survived that.’
With a shaky breath, he ran a hand through his tangled hair, exhaling sharply. The battle with Gilgamesh replayed in his mind—the golden storm of weapons, the suffocating pressure of the King of Heroes, and just how close he had come to death.
(You were lucky, Partner.)
‘Indeed. If we were even a second slower, the master might not have survived.’
Both Ddraig and Sherri’s voices rumbled in his mind, relief woven into their words. Issei sighed, shutting his eyes.
"Ddraig, Sherri… Let me enjoy surviving for at least five minutes before you start chewing me out."
(You don’t have five minutes, Partner. Get up. You could be attacked again at any moment.) Ddraig’s voice was firm, devoid of his usual humor.
‘Luckily, I don’t sense any Masters or Servants nearby,’ Sherri noted. ‘But that doesn’t mean you can afford to relax.’
Issei let out a bitter chuckle, wincing as he shifted his weight. “Relax? I feel like I’m bleeding from everywhere.” He flexed his fingers, testing the dull throb in his arms. “And you two lecturing me while I’m half-dead isn’t exactly helping.”
(Let this be a lesson for you. You cannot keep relying on luck and cheap tricks. You were utterly outmatched. If the Watch hadn’t activated its emergency function, you’d be a corpse right now.)
His fists clenched tighter, grains of sand pressing into his palms. I know that.
(Do you?) Ddraig’s tone sharpened. (This was only your third battle, and in the last two, you had the fox to protect you. This time, you had nothing. And you nearly died.)
“I know, damn it!” Issei snapped, his frustration bubbling over. His body ached, his pride stung, and yet he knew deep downthat Ddraig was right. “I did everything I could, and it still wasn’t enough. It didn’t matter how much I Boosted, I couldn’t keep up with him.”
(Exactly. You have too many weaknesses right now—speed, power, and, more importantly, experience. If it wasn’t for Sherri, you wouldn’t even be able to react in time. You need to improve, move faster, think faster, and act faster.)
Sherri hummed in agreement. ‘Your instincts and my instructions are decent, but your body can’t keep up with them. Against an enemy like Gilgamesh, you were fighting at a severe disadvantage.’
Issei exhaled sharply. Every moment of that battle had been a brutal reminder. He had always known he was out of his depth, but this fight had made it painfully clear.
“…So what do I do?” His voice was low but firm. “I can’t just magically get faster overnight.”
(No, but you can train. Once we return home, you need to refine your movements. Boost your reaction speed. Strengthen your legs and refine your control over your Boosted Gear. Power is meaningless if you can’t use it effectively.)
Sherri’s voice took on a thoughtful tone. ‘There may also be ways to enhance your speed temporarily. Spells, techniques—anything to compensate until you can improve naturally.’
Issei exhaled, letting their words sink in. He had gotten by on sheer willpower and improvisation. But that wouldn’t cut it anymore. If he wanted to survive, if he wanted to protect the people who had started depending on him, then he had to be better.
He clenched his fists, eyes burning with new resolve.
“For now, we should go back. Tamamo and Yuuka must be worried.”
With that, Issei got up and, with great difficulty, walked to the Hana residence.
Meanwhile, at the Hana residence, Sakura sat curled up on the couch, her small hands clutching the fabric of her sleeves as if letting go would make her unravel. The adrenaline that had carried her through her defiance had long since faded, leaving behind a hollow pit in her chest.
She had done it. She had rejected him.
Tokiomi's expression had been unreadable when she refused to return with him to the family that had abandoned her. It had been just one word, a simple rejection. Yet the weight of it pressed down on her chest, suffocating and terrifying.
The Matou house had been hell, but at least she had known what to expect. The pain, the loneliness, the suffering—it had become predictable. But this? This unknown future? It was something she had never dared to imagine.
‘What if I don’t belong anywhere?’
Her fingers trembled as she pulled her legs closer, trying to make herself smaller. And then her thoughts darkened.
The boy. The one who had saved her.
He had thrown himself into battle without hesitation. First to save her from the worms and again fighting that gold monster so she and Caster could escape. And now… she didn’t even know if he was still alive.
‘What if I’m cursed to hurt everyone who tries to help me?’
Her chest tightened painfully. ‘Why do the people who care about me always end up suffering? Is this my fault?’
A soft touch broke through the storm of her thoughts. A warm hand rested gently on her head, ruffling her hair in an affectionate motion.
Sakura flinched.
For a brief, terrifying moment, she expected the touch to be cold—like the gnarled hands of Zouken, the suffocating weight of worms slithering over her skin, the harsh grip of her foster father when he wanted to remind her of her place. Her breath hitched.
But the touch was warm. Soft.
Sakura blinked up, startled. Tamamo was smiling at her—not with pity, but with something softer, something real.
“You did good, little one.” The fox woman’s voice was filled with warmth, using the girl as a distraction from her own worries.
Sakura hesitated. Her throat felt tight. “I… I did?”
Tamamo nodded, her tails swishing behind her as she leaned back. “Telling that bastard off? That took guts.” Her voice was proud, but there was also an undeniable tenderness in it. “And now? You’re free to choose your own path.”
‘Free.’
Sakura swallowed hard, the word lodging itself in her chest. She wanted to believe that. She really did. But doubt gnawed at the edges of her fragile hope, whispering that freedom was just another illusion.
A sigh broke the silence.
Yuuka, sitting nearby, had her arms crossed, her brows furrowed in worry. She had been quiet for a while, but now her concern spilled over.
“I still can’t believe he just threw himself into danger like that,” Yuuka muttered, shaking her head. “That idiot… He always does this.”
Sakura turned to her, eyes wide. “You mean Issei?”
Yuuka’s expression softened when she saw the worry in Sakura’s gaze. “Yeah. He’s reckless. Always rushing in without thinking.” She exhaled, rubbing her temple. “I swear, one of these days, he’s going to get himself killed.”
Sakura lowered her gaze, her stomach twisting. “Because of me…” she whispered.
Yuuka blinked, then immediately frowned. “No.” Her voice was firm. “Don’t even start thinking like that, kid.”
Sakura flinched. “But if he—”
Yuuka leaned forward, looking her straight in the eyes. “Issei isn’t the type of person to let someone suffer if he can help it. That’s just who he is. You didn’t make him do anything. He chose to help you.”
Sakura bit her lip, her hands tightening into fists. “But… what if he—”
“He’s alive,” Yuuka interrupted. “He has to be. He’s too damn stubborn to die that easily.”
Sakura searched Yuuka’s face for any sign of doubt, but the woman’s conviction was unwavering. Slowly, she nodded, though the fear still clung to her.
“Plus, me and my husband have a special connection.” Tamamo spoke out and soon glared at Yuuka. “And unlike her, I can confidently say that Darling is still alive.” Tamamo arrogantly declared. Her words did annoy Yuuka, but they helped alleviate both her and Sakura’s worries that Issei was okay.
What Tamamo didn’t say, to not worry the family, was how weak their connection currently is.
A moment later, Sakura was pulled into a tight, warm embrace.
Sakura stiffened, her body going rigid.
Misuki, unable to resist her maternal instincts any longer, cradled Sakura in her arms, rubbing soothing circles on her back. “You don’t have to be afraid anymore, sweetheart,” she whispered, pressing a light kiss to Sakura’s forehead. “You’re safe now.”
Safe.
Her mind struggled to process the word. The warmth of Misuki’s touch was so different—so alien—compared to what she had known. No cruelty hidden beneath false kindness. No expectation of obedience.
No pain.
Her body trembled, part of her still waiting for the moment it would all be ripped away.
But the warmth stayed.
Her fingers curled into Misuki’s sleeve, gripping onto her as if afraid she would disappear.
For the first time in what felt like forever, she didn’t feel alone.
A soft hum filled the air as Misuki gently rocked her. Yuuka, despite her earlier frustration, let out a small sigh and leaned back, arms crossed but eyes softened. Tamamo, ever the proud fox, flicked her tails and smirked, but the worry in her gaze never left.
This house… it was so different. Loud, warm, filled with genuine care. She had never been surrounded by people like this before. People who chose to care.
And she didn’t know what to do with that.
Misuki finally pulled away, smiling down at her. “Now, let’s prepare breakfast. The moment Issei comes back, he’s probably going to be starving.”
Yuuka snorted. “Understatement of the year.”
Tamamo huffed, flipping her hair. “Hmph. I suppose I can assist.”
Sakura hesitated for a brief moment before nodding. Freedom was still an unfamiliar, frightening thing. But maybe… just maybe… this place wasn’t so bad.
And maybe, just maybe, she could learn what it meant to be free.
At Tohsaka Manor, Tokiomi paced across his study, each step sharp and restless. His usual composure was slipping, his carefully laid plans unraveling before his eyes.
Gilgamesh continues to refuse and obey him. The mysterious boy with a noble phantasm. Assassin had failed to retrieve Sakura. And now, his own daughter had turned her back on him.
His fingers curled into fists, nails biting into his palms. This isn’t how it was supposed to go.
Across from him, Kirei Kotomine stood motionless, hands clasped neatly behind his back. His gaze followed Tokiomi with quiet amusement. “You seem troubled, Master Tokiomi.”
Tokiomi exhaled sharply through his nose, stopping in place. “We must retrieve Sakura. That much is certain.”
Kirei inclined his head slightly. “You say ‘retrieve,’ but she is no longer in the Matou estate. Caster has her now. And I doubt her Master will simply hand her over.”
Tokiomi’s jaw clenched. “Then we force them to comply.”
Kirei’s smirk deepened. “And if they refuse?”
A tense silence stretched between them. Tokiomi turned away, facing the bookshelf as if the countless tomes could offer him guidance. “Then we will dispose of them.”
Kirei let the words hang in the air before replying, his voice deliberately slow. “How should we proceed?”
Tokiomi turned back sharply, eyes narrowing. “Have your father declare Caster’s Master in violation of the Holy Grail War’s rules. He harbors another Master’s family, not to mention he went after civilians that were not part of the Grail War. That is reason enough.”
Kirei chuckled softly, shaking his head. “The Church has remained to be seen impartial thus far. You would have my father cast judgment over something that, at best, is a gray area?”
Tokiomi’s expression darkened. “Are you questioning my decision, Kirei?”
“Of course not,” Kirei said smoothly. “I am merely considering the risks. If my father rules in your favor, the other Masters may begin to doubt his impartiality. You are willing to stake your position on this?”
Tokiomi straightened, his eyes burning with conviction. “I am not asking. This is necessary. The longer Sakura remains with the master of Caster, the greater the risk.”
Kirei observed him carefully, noting the barely restrained desperation beneath his words. How fragile his confidence has become.
After a beat, he gave a slight nod. “Very well. I shall speak with my father.”
Tokiomi exhaled, his stance relaxing slightly. “Good. I will prepare accordingly.”
Kirei turned toward the door, pausing just before stepping out. “And if the Church refuses?”
Tokiomi’s fists clenched once more. “Then I will handle it myself.”
Kirei’s smirk returned, his voice barely above a whisper as he stepped away. ‘How amusing.’
By midday, Issei finally made his way back to the Hana residence. The moment he stepped inside, the familiar scent of the Hana’s home washed over him—warm wood, faint traces of incense, and the lingering aroma of a freshly cooked meal. It was comforting, grounding, a stark contrast to the blood and dust that clung to his clothes.
He barely had time to process it before two bodies slammed into him.
Pain shot through his battered frame as Tamamo and Yuuka tackled him in a fierce hug, their arms locking around his waist like steel cables. His ribs screamed in protest, and for a second, he swore he saw his life flash before his eyes—not because of his injuries, but because Yuuka and Tamamo had a mean grip.
“Gah—!” Issei sucked in a sharp breath, feeling every cut and bruise flare up.
“My beloved idiot, you absolute fool!” Tamamo wailed, dramatically pressing her cheek against his chest, her fox ears twitching wildly. “How dare you disappear and return looking like this? Have you no care for my delicate heart?!”
Yuuka, meanwhile, smacked the back of his head with tears coming out making him feel guilty. “You jackass! Do you enjoy making us worry?!”
Issei coughed, half-wheezing, half-laughing. The impact had nearly killed him, but honestly? He didn’t mind. There was something reassuring about their warmth, the way their emotions came through so fiercely. Plus the feeling of their oppai was helping his mental health.
“Y-Yeah, I missed you guys too,” he managed, voice slightly strangled as he hugged them pushing them further into him.
Tamamo pulled back just enough to inspect him, her golden eyes narrowing as she reached up and pawed at his face like a concerned housewife. “You’re covered in dirt and scratches! And blood! Whose blood is this?! Wait—is it yours?!”
Yuuka huffed, still gripping his jacket like she was debating whether to hit him again. “Of course it’s his! Look at him! He looks like he got run over by a truck, then reversed over for good measure!”
“I do feel like that,” Issei admitted with a chuckle.
Misuki, who had been standing with her arms crossed, finally sighed and shook her head. “Honestly, Issei… You shouldn’t make it a habit of coming home looking like this. At this rate, we’ll need to start preparing medical supplies just for you.”
Issei waved them off, flashing his usual carefree grin despite his exhaustion. “Hey, you should see the other guys.”
Yuuka groaned. “I swear—”
As the others fussed over him, Sakura stood a short distance away, her fingers curling at her sides. The warmth in the room—the way they welcomed him, cared for him—was still something she struggled to grasp.
Her mind flickered back to a different household. A darker one.
A cold, quiet home where laughter felt wrong. Where every movement was carefully measured, every word filtered through the fear of what might happen if she spoke out of turn.
The contrast was jarring.
She swallowed, hesitating. A part of her wanted to move closer—to reach out and be a part of that warmth. But an old instinct held her back. Would they really want her here?
Then, suddenly, Issei’s gaze met hers. His smile softened, losing its teasing edge, and he crouched down in front of her. Without hesitation, he reached out and gently ruffled her hair.
“You okay?” His voice was softer now, meant just for her.
Sakura stiffened. The warmth of his palm seeped into her scalp, and for a moment, she didn’t know what to do with it.
She wanted to say no. To tell him that she still didn’t understand what this was—this freedom, this acceptance. But then she looked at him, really looked, and saw the exhaustion weighing on him.
He had fought for her. Bled for her.
Her throat tightened, and guilt gnawed at her insides.
“I… think so,” she murmured.
Issei raised an eyebrow, unconvinced, but didn’t push. Instead, he ruffled her hair again, this time a little more playfully. “That’s good.”
A small, hesitant warmth sparked in her chest. It felt… strange.
Misuki cleared her throat, drawing everyone’s attention. “We got your message,” she said, her tone shifting back to business. “We’ve been discussing the next step.”
Sherri responded from the watch. “The Dimensional Watch is almost ready. We leave Fuyuki at midnight.”
Issei exhaled, running a hand through his hair. He glanced at the faces around him—his friends, his allies, and the people he had fought to protect.
“Then let’s start packing everything important. We leave at twelve.” He soon got in the house to help start packing.
But Issei was gently guided to the living room. Misuki, Tamamo, and Yuuka wasted no time ushering him to the couch, each of them giving him an exaggerated glare as they began their inspection.
"Sit," Misuki ordered firmly, crossing her arms as she hovered nearby. "You’re not moving until we clean up this mess."
Tamamo added with a dramatic huff, her fox ears flicking in irritation, "You better not think about getting up, husband. We won’t allow it."
Issei winced as he lowered himself into the soft cushions. His body protested with every movement, but he grinned nonetheless. "Really, girls? I’m fine. It’s just a few scratches."
Yuuka raised an eyebrow at him, her arms crossed over her chest, "A few scratches? You’ve got cuts everywhere. Are you sure you're not trying to impress us with your ‘tough guy’ act?"
Before he could respond, Tamamo and Yuuka were already on top of him, carefully starting to undo his bloodied jacket. The fabric stuck to his skin in places, making it harder to peel off without a hiss of pain.
"Hold still, idiot," Yuuka muttered, her hands steady as she gently tugged his jacket free. Despite her harsh words, there was a soft touch to the way she handled him. Tamamo, on the other hand, practically clucked like a mother hen as she fussed over the cuts on his arms.
“Look at this,” she said, her voice softening as her fingers gently touched a particularly deep gash on his arm. "What did Goldie do to you?!”
Issei chuckled weakly. “Oh, you know just the usual way of him trying to kill me.” He winced when Yuuka pressed some antiseptic into a wound, and she shot him a glare.
“You think this is funny?” she asked, though her voice was laced with concern. "You're lucky you didn’t lose an arm out there."
Tamamo gave her a pointed look before focusing back on his injury. “He’s tough. But that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t treat him like the fragile idiot he is.” She applied ointment carefully before wrapping a bandage around his arm as her prana was still recovering. "I’ll make sure he doesn't do anything stupid again. He’ll listen to me.”
Yuuka rolled her eyes but didn’t argue. “Sure he will. Just like last time.” She finished with his leg wound, tying off the bandage with swift, practiced hands.
While they worked, Sakura silently hovered nearby, her gaze flicking from Issei to the girls. Her cheeks flushed as she watched them fuss over him. There was something so domestic about the scene, so comfortable. It was so different from what she’d known.
At the same time, a strange feeling twisted in her stomach. She wanted to feel like part of this—wanted to be as close as they were—but it felt foreign.
After a moment, Yuuka turned to her and smiled warmly. “You’re not going to just watch us, are you? Come on, help out!”
Sakura blinked in surprise, her hand instinctively reaching for her hair. “H-help?”
"Yeah!" Yuuka grabbed a bowl of water and held it out to her. "You can help clean his face. He looks like he’s been through a war zone."
Sakura hesitated, looking at Issei, who was giving her a soft, encouraging smile. It made her stomach flutter, but she swallowed the nerves. Slowly, she approached and took the bowl from Yuuka, kneeling beside the couch.
Tamamo beamed at her. “That’s the spirit! Don’t let him fool you—he’s a mess.”
As Sakura gently dabbed at Issei's face with the cloth, Yuuka and Tamamo exchanged a glance before returning to their task. The affection in the air was thick—natural, familial—something that felt both warm and overwhelming to Sakura.
Issei looked almost... grateful for the care. His eyes softened as he stared at her. “Thanks, Sakura.” His voice was low, a touch tired, but the warmth in it made her cheeks flush.
“Don’t mention it, Onii-chan.” she mumbled, her eyes still focused on his face.
Finally, after the wounds were dressed, and the girls made sure he wouldn’t bleed out from anything serious, Tamamo snapped her fingers. “Alright, now that we’ve worked our magic, you need to eat. You haven’t eaten since last night, have you? You’re practically a walking skeleton."
Issei grinned, despite the exhaustion in his voice. “I can still keep going.”
Yuuka’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t give us that crap. You're eating right now, and no arguments!”
The girls quickly set about preparing a quick breakfast for him—warm rice, miso soup, and some simple fish. Issei was practically mobbed as he sat down to eat, Tamamo and Yuuka taking turns sitting on either side of him, their attention undivided.
Issei laughed lightly. “You know, you guys are way too clingy. I’m not going anywhere, I swear.”
Tamamo leaned into him, making herself more comfortable as she rested her head on his shoulder. “We’ll just make sure you stay here then,” she said with a teasing grin. “We don’t want you running off to get yourself killed.”
Yuuka, sitting opposite him, shot him a sharp look as she passed him his bowl of rice. “You’re staying in here all day. You’re going to rest, and we’re not letting you out of our sight until you recover. Got it?”
“And after this you're taking a bath and are going to rest.” Misuki ordered as she left to heat the bath. The girls soon got each other a competitive look at who will be joining the boy while he showered.
“Got it,” Issei muttered, his usual smile softening into something more tender. He grabbed his chopsticks and began eating as another plate was severed, savoring the warm meal as the girls kept their close watch on him.
Sakura sat quietly beside him, trying to ignore the flutter in her chest. She was still getting used to this strange, yet undeniably comforting, affection.
The warmth of the house, the food, and the girls’ overzealous attention made her feel a little lighter, like maybe, just maybe, she wasn’t as alone as she had been before.
In another room of the Tohsaka manner, golden energy crackled violently, illuminating the ruins of what had once been an opulent chamber. Shattered furniture lay strewn across the floor, deep gouges carved into the walls where weapons had materialized and been dismissed in his fury.
At the center of the devastation, Gilgamesh stood motionless, his crimson gaze smoldering with barely restrained wrath. His regal composure remained intact, but his clenched fists and the way his jaw tightened betrayed the tempest raging within him.
“That clown…” His voice was low, dangerous, each syllable laced with venom. “He dares to continue to humiliate me. To defy me?”
The very thought sent another surge of anger pulsing through his veins. He, the King of Heroes, had been mocked—challenged—as if he were some mere mongrel to be trifled with. The insult was unforgivable.
Slowly, his lips curled into a smirk, sharp and cruel. “Then I shall make his suffering legendary.”
A golden ripple shimmered behind him, the Gates of Babylon stirring in anticipation.
The hunt had just begun for the King of Heroes.
