155Hedonism.
n. the ethical theory that pleasure (in the sense of the satisfaction of desires) is the highest good and proper aim of human life.
Summary: Hyoudou Issei was not a pervert. He was a hedonist. Most people would glance upon the two titles and believe that they were one and the same. They were wrong. They were very, very wrong. Mature Content Warning. A darker, quasi-realistic take on the DxD verse.
There was a lot of noise.
"Hyoudou Issei scored the highest again."
"He's going places, that boy."
"So diligent, and hardworking too."
A lot of expectations.
"He got a full scholarship to Kuoh Academy."
"Amazing!"
"I heard he wants to become a doctor."
He did not care, however.
"You came back late, again Issei-kun. You're making your mother worried."
"Issei, we've been lenient about your hobbies, but this – this –"
"What is wrong with you Issei? What? How could you – how could my own son –"
He only ever did what would give him the most pleasure.
"Get out! GET OUT!"
He was only ever searching for his own slice of paradise.
"You disgust me."
That was all he wanted.
"I never want to see your face near this house ever again."
That was all he ever wanted.
|Hedonism|
The alarm clock buzzed once at 6:30: AM. A hand latched out and hit the buzzer before the second ring. Two eyes snapped open. With a stretch, he laid out his feet. Rather than touching solid floor, his two legs touched against warm flesh. He reached out, dragging open the covers to the sight of the middle-aged woman naked atop his bed. The memories of the previous night began to flow, slowly, speeding up all at once, and forcing him to flick the woman's forehead.
"Wake up."
An incoherent grumble escaped her lips. He attempted a different approach. Dragging down all the covers, exposing her legs and untrimmed patch of dark pubic hair. His lips went down. His tongue worked his way slowly. Soft grumbles became tiny groans, and tiny groans became tender moans. Tender moans evolved into redundant curses as his tongue gained tempo.
"Oh, oh, oh – fuck! Fuck! Fuck! I'm awake! I'm awake!"
She pushed him off, shuddering. A drowsy glare lay on her sleep-ridden face. "As much as I'd love to wake up to that every morning, I really wanted to sleep in."
"It's six forty-five." Issei said. The glare on her face became more prominent at that. As always, it was up to him to elaborate. "Monday."
Her eyes widened. "Today is Monday?" She cursed again, this time, not underneath her breath, and not from the pleasure of his ministrations. "Fuck!" She swore, clambering herself out of bed. "Fuck!"
"There's a clean pair of underwear in the black wardrobe. Check the bottom drawers on the right for office skirts matching your size. The top left drawer has shirts. Shower is on the left of the room. Cupboard below the sink has new toothbrushes. Pick one with your color and initials."
She stopped her mid-morning scramble to stare. "What?"
"The first train leaves at seven. Kobayashi-san has the morning shift. He arrives five minutes early on principle." He pointed to an anime-styled magical girl clock hanging on the wall. "Whether you make it on time to work or not depends on how willing you are to spend time asking questions."
She was quick on the uptake, at the very least. Quick enough to leave the room and find her way into the shower. The sound of running water kick-started the race against time. He climbed out of bed himself, taking a deep breath, before dropping flat to the gray-tiled floor of his bedroom, and beginning his daily set.
One. Two. Three. Four –
She spent four minutes forty-six seconds in the shower.
Twenty-one. Twenty-two. Twenty-three. Twenty-four –
Three minutes drying her hair and applying lotions and cosmetics.
Fifty-one. Fifty-two. Fifty-three. Fifty-four –
Three minutes nineteen seconds were spent dressing up.
Ninety-six. Ninety-seven. Ninety-eight. Ninety-nine –
"Where are my –"
"Beside the coatrack behind the door."
" – shoes."
One hundred.
Sweat dripped from his form. He closed his eyes and breathed it in. The exertion from his muscles. The sweat, trailing down his chin unto his chest. His chest burned. His hands shook. A small, pleased smile appeared on his face.
She stood there, in a well-chosen wine-red suit and office skirt. Tight enough to be sexy, but not so much as to be overly provocative and restrictive. She made no attempt to disguise herself eyeing him. "Hot."
"You're welcome."
She laughed. "Shouldn't that be 'thank you?'"
"Does God thank people for admiring his creations?"
"I wouldn't know. Haven't met the fella."
"All through the night you kept calling his name."
She chuckled a bit. He could tell there were questions she wanted to ask. She could not have made it any more obvious with the manner she chuckled, and the long gasp of five-second-silence that followed.
"You can keep the outfit you picked, if that's your concern."
"How often do you… do this sort of thing?"
"You'll have to be more specific."
She gestured to her outfit. "This," she pointed. "This is not… normal. These clothes feel more expensive than the ones I have."
"They are."
"You have a full closet full of different women's clothes and undergarments, in different sizes. Expensive clothes to boot."
"Was there a question somewhere in there?"
She was disturbed. He could see it. She, like most people, had an arbitrary spectrum of acceptability and bizarreness. "Why?" came the question. "Actually, how, is more important. You have to be like, eighteen, maybe nineteen? How can you afford a full closet of women's clothes?"
"Do you need money?"
She appeared offended by the question. "Excuse me?"
"Do you need money?" he repeated.
"No – of course I do not need money! I'm just –"
"There's twenty-thousand yen in the cupboard in the kitchen."
She seemed to only be further incensed. "I'm not a hooker!"
"I'm not saying you are."
"Then why are you offering me money?!"
Issei calmly pressed his index and middle finger against the side of his head. There were any number of things he could have said. Any number of options from the truth, which was that she was slightly skinnier than average for a woman of her age and size which meant malnutrition or a tiny diet. Or perhaps that her shoes were clearly frayed and worn from when he'd kept them aside, as the heels were clunky and uneven. He could have likewise mentioned how she smelt of extremely cheap cologne, the kind he saw in discount bins and sniffed for research, and how the fabric of the outfit she'd been wearing had faded in numerous parts, and had more than one patch done to fix the holes in the pockets.
Surely, he could have said any of those things, but that would imply that the sole reason they had this one-night stand was because he realized she was poor, and chose her for a pity-fuck.
The implication was not wrong. He was curious in comparing how women of lower socio-economic class fared in sexual expertise than those of higher income. Aside from that, telling a person that you chose to give them a single night of pleasure because they looked miserable seemed to have a negative effect for some absurd reason.
"You'll be late." He pointed to the clock. "It's 7:00am." He stretched his arms. "I don't care if you take the money or not, but I need you to leave. I'm starting High School today, and don't want to be late."
"High School? Is that supposed to be some sort of –"
Her face went momentarily ashen. She stared at him, again, as if looking at him for the very first time since seeing him.
"How – how old are you?"
"Leave." He pointed to the door. "Now."
There was no room for protest the second time around. The door to his apartment shut, and Issei was left to his silence. High School. Anime and manga had romanticized three years of grueling study and hardship in preparation for college entrance exams into a fantastical experience where one did everything from finding true love, to stopping alien invasions and becoming transmigrated to another world as a hero with a cheat power.
Worst of all, he was going to have to meet with people who had somehow bought into this fictitious nonsense. Handling all of them sober was going to be problematic. It was with that knowledge in mind that Hyoudou Issei brushed, flossed, and opened his refrigerator, taking out his breakfast of nice, chilled, chocolate brownies which would take him through the entire day.
Edibles were always better, if only for the fact that they took longer to kick in, and lasted longer on average. Just long enough to make him sit through a full, school day.
And thus my death march begins…
|Hedonism|
"And now, the national anthem."
Her lips opened, and the words to the Japanese national anthem, Kimigayo, flowed eloquently from her mouth. To her side, Kazama-san's chest was larger, his back straighter, his face stern and solemn as he proclaimed the words. Kimigayo, or in the tongue of English, "His Imperial Majesty's Reign," the song that the Japanese people among her had used since August of 1999. She did not see the beauty in it in the slightest, and she knew verbally proclaiming this would no doubt net her scandalous looks. She however appreciated that it was short, hence time could be better spent on other matters.
The anthem concluded, without fanfare, and she felt, lightly, Kazama-san's elbow nudge hers. "You need to sing with more conviction, Fukukaicho."
"Do I?"
"Have to set an example for the new students, don't we? Let's make this a nyugakushiki to remember."
The Nyugakushiki or easier put, the School Entrance Ceremony. Such an odd custom, she felt. Japan's insistence to begin the school year in April was not odd, though the justifications for it were. Some believed it was because the cherry-blossom trees would begin to bloom now in the spring, and thus, it signified the start of new beginnings, symbolized the freshness of youth and rebirth.
"Now, esteemed students, welcome to Kuoh Academy. We shall begin with a few words from Kazama Shinsuke, Kuoh Academy's Student Council President, and with him, Shitori Souna, his Vice."
The applause was polite, curt. The first-year students were wide-eyed, dreamy. She could see it on their expressions, read it from the desires tattooed unto their sleeves. Some of them, like a troublesome redheaded friend of hers, had consumed far too much anime and manga, and believed their high school lives would progress with day-after-day laughter and hijinks, rife with obscenity in the hallways and Cupid himself as the hall monitor, firing his arrows like a semi-automatic rifle to grant Disney-like instances of love and Shakespearean-worthy moments of drama.
"Welcome one, welcome all –"
Kazama's speech was nothing particularly extraordinary, but it was a given, as he was nothing particularly extraordinary. The aura about him was friendly, and he attempted too hard to please people. Taking the role of an elder-brother figure, constantly disregarding and invading the personal spaces of people and devoid of tact in the finer nuances of social interaction, he had enough charisma to be an amicable friend, but lacked the spine and harsh decisiveness it took to be a leader. Frankly, it was a miracle he was the president at all. Of course, as miracles existed, so did the inciters of miracles exist, and she knew better than most that the performer of this miracle was his father's six-figure donation to Kuoh Academy's infrastructure.
"And of course, this institution was founded by the…"
It mattered little to her. In about a year's time, the third year would graduate, and she would take up her rightful place as Kuoh Academy's Student Council President. She was already behind in gathering a suitable team of her own. She knew this was because she had insisted on gathering them herself. Her sister had offered, time and again, to provide her with gifts in the same manner that her redheaded counterpart received from her own older sibling. She refused, time and again, because she would not ride on the coattails of others when it came to accomplishing her goals.
"Thank you, and I wish you all have a pleasant, educative three years at Kuoh Academy."
The polite applause came at the end of his speech. He swaggered, back over to her, head held high. "How did I do?"
"It was a somewhat decent speech."
"That's cold Fukukaicho," Kazama said. "What was your favorite part?"
"The conclusion."
"So cold Fukukaicho, so cold."
"And now," The Principal announced, "Some words from the First Year Representative. A truly remarkable student who awed the faculty with his entrance essay, and attained the highest marks in the entrance exams since Kuoh Academy's founding."
Her brow rose, if only slightly at that announcement. The highest?
"Oh, hear that?" Kazama said, whistling softly. "You were the representative for your year, last year weren't you?"
"I was."
"The Principal said the newbie got the highest marks ever. Wouldn't that mean he'd have had to score higher than you?"
She did not answer. The whispers of the crowd were louder. A boy emerged from the gathered masses, his uniform neatly ironed, tie properly knotted, brown hair smooth and gelled backwards, with a pair of half-lidded eyes that scanned through the room with a surprising amount of disinterest.
With a paradoxical blend of lethargy and vigor, the boy stood in front of the podium, idly tapping the microphone with his index finger, once, and twice. He waited, patiently, for the mutterings and whispers to come to halt, before leaning forward into the microphone.
"My name is Hyoudou Issei." He said, and paused. The pause was just the perfect length for his name to sink in, never a second longer or shorter than it needed to be.
"When I was younger, I met an old man at Hirohito Park who was drunk, and before the police arrived to toss him away, we had a conversation. He asked me what the purpose of life was. I told him I did not know. Wiping his chin of alcohol, he barked a laugh and told me, 'it's pleasure.'"
The gathered crowd muttered, and the Principal was looking increasingly uncomfortable.
"At the time, I thought the old man was a ridiculous old fool not worth listening to. Then, slowly, I began to think. To question. I found it odd. Our parents strive hard at work to send us to good schools. We strive hard in good schools to get access to good universities. We strive hard in good universities to get access to good jobs. We strive hard in good jobs to get promoted to better jobs, and strive hard in better jobs to get the best jobs. Why?"
The gathered auditorium was silent. Softly, she whispered underneath her breath. "Money."
"Exactly, Fukukaicho."
The whole auditorium's gaze was on her, and she froze. Had I been that loud?
"Money. Purchasing power."
Hyoudou pointed to a random student. "You, if you had ten million yen right now, what would you spend it on?"
The boy in question went wide-eyed. Slowly, he scratched his chin, "Um… I would… buy a large house?"
"Why?"
"Cause… well, my current house is pretty small, and I have six siblings, so I've always wanted a large place, with enough room for everyone."
Hyoudou smiled.
"And would this make you happy?"
"Very!"
Hyoudou nodded. "And you?" he pointed to a girl. "What would you do with ten million?"
"I'd send my parents on a vacation!"
"And would that make you happy?"
"As long as my parents are happy, I'm happy."
The gathered students began to get excited. She rose her eyebrow as she noticed the students eagerly talk and chat amongst themselves, each one openly and wistfully declaring what they would do with ten million yen. More than that, she noticed how the air of the room changed. The stiff, constrained air of a formal event was replaced with the open and inquisitive air of a classroom or a mixer, where ideas and conversations flowed without difficulty. The ice was broken on a scale never before seen, and she found herself awed by it.
"I've always wanted to get my dad a car!"
"I would buy a jacuzzi!"
"I'd donate to the orphanage and build a pet shelter!"
"As you can see," Hyoudou's voice cut across the students. "We desire money to fulfill ambitions or dreams, to acquire material wealth or prosperity. We all have different ideas of what we want to use money for, but there is all one thing in common –"
He extended his hand wide. "We will spend it on whatever makes us happy."
The auditorium silent. She found herself, like the rest of the students, hanging on to Hyoudou Issei's every word.
"So, all of us here, are in school because we are all, equally, chasing after our happiness. And in these three years to come, I hope that we can all stretch forward, and grasp it, together."
Hyoudou took a step back from the podium and bowed.
"Let the chase begin."
[Hedonism]
They were clapping. They were clapping. The fuckers were clapping. They sat down and listened to the shit he spewed and they were clapping. Lapping it all up. Lapping it all up. Lapping it all up.
He was not sure what he said. He could not remember what he said. The thing about being high was that one tended to possess a one-track mind. One's mind was always moving forward. Maintaining two thoughts at the same time was impossible. So forward. And forward. And forward.
He was giggling inside. He was giggling inside. Giggling from their faces. From their excitement. This was not the sweet nectar of schadenfreude. This was not the bittersweet flavor of sadism. This was not the sour tang of masochism. This was a pleasure that was unknown to him. The pleasure of standing in front of an entire auditorium of students, high as fuck, and spewing whatever nonsense that first came to his mind, and then watching them clap. Clap. Clapping their fucking hands.
He compared the flavor of pleasure to being near to that of voyeurism. Reverse-voyeurism. The danger, and risks of getting caught, of being called out on his bullshit, completely and utterly made the pleasure of getting away with it all so much sweeter.
The principal shook his hand. He said some words. Some words? Some words. Something about congratulations. Something about student council. Something something something. Issei didn't care. Issei couldn't give a fuck. Nod and smile. Nod and smile. Kiss-ass. Say something cheesy. Say something over-the-top. Talk about ambitions. Humblebrag. Humblebrag again. Something. Something. Something.
Return to seat. Listen to students beside him try to talk at him with excitement. Excitement? Excitement. They're fucking excited. They're shaking his hands. Shaking his hands. Nod and smile. Nod and smile. Give reassuring words. Give fortune-cookie advice. Tell them to keep focus on the rest of the program. Be good. Be a good diligent student.
Program is over.
Program is over?
Program is over.
Attend classes. Attend classes. Answer questions. Solve mathematical equations. Solve? High. Too high. Questions are easy. Too easy. Use advanced formula. Shit. Formula too advanced. Teacher staring. Classmates staring. Fuck. Messing up.
Attend classes. Attend classes. Answer questions. Respond with English. Respond with perfect English. Use correct English idioms. Not once over a blue moon. Once in a blue moon. Once in a blue moon. Call teacher an erudite. Erudite. Sarcasm. Sarcasm goes over teacher's head. Teacher doesn't know meaning. Teacher staring. Classmates staring. Fuck. Still messing up.
Attend classes. Attend classes. Answer questions. Memorize physics formula. Correct teacher's attribution of discovery to Nikolai Tesla. Argue with teacher. Argue with teacher some more. Argue with teacher till end of class. Teacher checks internet. Teacher is wrong. Teacher staring. Classmates staring. Don't give a fuck about messing up.
Lunch time.
Lunch time's here.
Time to eat more brownies.
|Hedonism|
Hours after the Entrance Ceremony concluded, Kuoh Academy was abuzz. The first-year students could be seen in corridors, eagerly discussing their dreams for the future, and their wistfulness of accomplishing them.
"You wanna be a doctor? I wanna be a surgeon! Let's become rivals!" she heard one boy exclaim.
"This isn't an anime dude."
"Come on, afraid I'll win?"
"Ah, you know what – screw it, I'm game. Alright Mr. Surgeon, how good are you at biology?"
Marching through the hallways, her gaze idly spun to a group of first year girls, with another one of their number approaching them.
"Hey, is this were the girls interested in modelling are?"
"You've got it! We were just talking about which Designer bags are in this Spring –"
Forward still, there was a commotion as three boys stood facing against each other, in a manner reminiscent of a particular popular card-trading game.
"Hmph! You claim you wanna be an Attorney? Tell me what you know about the Penal Code!"
"You underestimate me, I've played all the Phoenix Wright games! I'm gonna school you!"
Organized chaos was the only term she could use to describe the current happenings of the school. Individuals with similar dreams and interests found each other with ease, gravitating to themselves and forming cliques based on shared future goals. Individuals whose goals were more empathetic found themselves finding those who could sympathize and relate.
The words of one person had broken the previously established social hierarchy of Kuoh Academy. The second years and third-years had cliques organized by the atypical nature of wealth, social-class, prestige, athleticism, and attractiveness. The wealthy were friends with the influential and the attractive, and the athletic were often friends with them by association, and thus, those who were neither good-looking, attractive, nor influential found themselves at the bottom of the barrel.
Due to Hyoudou, the first-years had not yet possessed the time to observe their seniors and follow that hierarchy. The social hierarchy was buried and burnt, as the attractive and the unattractive, the wealthy and the less-fortunate, all mingled together.
Where she a naïve egalitarian, she would have found herself pleased by the turn of events. The unity of an entire year of the student body would be more troubling than would be worth. Humans in particular could do great and dangerous things when properly unified, and there was a reason why even he had seen it wise to ensure the fall of Babel's tower.
However, there was a lot of speculative buzz going on about Hyoudou Issei, much more so than there was about her and her friend when they first came in. She was curious, as to what the principal and other members of staff had to say about the matter.
Making her way to the principal's office, she did not expect to find said man and staff in the midst of a meeting, nor did she expect to see the conclusion of such meeting.
"All in favor?"
All hands went up.
"All opposed?"
No hands went up.
"Very well. It's official. Hyoudou Issei will take the test, and should he pass, he will be moved up by a year."
It was rare for any sort of news or announcement to surprise her. So much so that she stayed in place after the teachers left, idly listening to their conversations about how the boy upstaged them in front of the new students, and did so while apparently looking half-asleep.
"You're moving Hyoudou Issei up a year?"
The principal laughed and then nodded. "The teachers all decided that it was for the best. His knowledge in Mathematics, English and Physics is already estimated to be at the university level. Should he pass the test – then we see no reason why we should let him stay in a place where he'll fail to receive adequate mental stimulation."
"I don't recall any of this being on offer when I was in my first year."
The principal cleared his throat. "Well, Shitori-san, you are certainly one of our smartest students and we are proud to have you at Kuoh Academy… but Hyoudou Issei…" The principal's eyes gleamed. "He makes you look mediocre by comparison."
"Is that a challenge, principal?"
The man in question gave a faux grandfatherly laugh.
"I suppose if Hyoudou aces his test, he'll become your classmate. I wonder who among the two of you will be the one with the highest mock entrance exams. Perhaps, one of you could even get the highest scores in Japan? I'd personally prefer it to be Hyoudou, as he is younger and male after all."
There was little doubt in her mind.
"We'll see."
The Principal of Kuoh Academy wanted to wage a common human boy against her? To pit someone with no reputable name or background against her as an intellectual rival?
"We'll see just what this Hyoudou Issei is capable of."
