Chapter 198 - My SI Stash #98 - Unique by Imbalance (DxD) (1/2)

-If you liked Imbalance's ”Inter-Dimensional Wizard” you'll probably like this one too~ SI into DxD as a Kitsune!

Sypnosis: Daichi died. In a conflux of magic, chance, and perhaps a bit of divine intervention, he finds himself waking up once more in a universe he believed to be fantasy. With his newfound body and metaknowledge of the timeline Daichi sets course for munchkinland. The land of milk and honey (covered titties) awaits him! He just needs to make sure nobody can take what is his in the process

Rated: M

Words: 27K

Posted on: fanfiction.net/s/13495344/1/Unique (Imbalance)

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Chapter 0-1

Prologue

He died. It's a quiet thing, to die while sleeping. No tragic accident, no murder, no stupid mistakes or suicide. He simply fell asleep, his body died, and his spirit left. Medically, it would be labeled as heart failure as a result of long term cardiac disease, after his family or coworkers noticed and reported he was missing.

Not to say he was in pain or suffered. It truly was a peaceful, quiet passing. His family and friends were aware of his situation. They would be sad and grieve, and he would miss them, but as he looked down on his peacefully resting corpse, he knew they would ultimately be fine, and therefore, so would he, though that didn't stop him from letting out a heavy sigh as he floated around his room.

Or at least a metaphysical sigh, seeing as he couldn't actually breathe or move air any longer.

With nothing left to do but calmly wait for whatever happens after death, which was already surprising enough as he thought about it; the fact that there was actually something after death, he decided to reflect on who he was as a person.

He grew up in a loving middle class home, never wanting for anything, though that's not to say he was spoiled. He was raised by a single mother, with one little sister, both of whom he loved dearly. He lived his life as he wanted, pursuing happiness and fulfillment over money and fame, and while he never felt that he had found his true calling, he lived well enough.

If he had to guess, he held a positive karmic balance, though he was definitely no Ghandi. He loved animals, animals loved him, he was a huge nerd, and he read voraciously. He treated everyone he met at least neutrally, and was always true to who he was as a person, never compromising his morals or ideals.

The summary of his obituary would read:

James Everett – an incredibly smart asshole who lived, laughed, and loved. He will be missed dearly.

Next to which a picture of his mid-thirties scruffy grin would be printed in black and white. If it was color, you'd have seen his hazel eyes and neatly kept short brown hair.

And then he started crying, which was weird, since his metaphysical tears simply evaporated once they fell off his face, which again, was weird, since he appeared more as a floating white wisp and had no face, or even eyes to cry from. Mentally he chuckled dryly, even in death he deflected pain with humor.

Because ultimately, he didn't want to die. He never got married, he never fell in love, he never would get to see and do so very many different things, and that, no matter how much he thought he had prepared himself for the inevitable eventuality, hurt.

Which was precisely when the process for his afterlife began.

It appears honestly accepting everything was the kickstarter to his next destination, as once he admitted how he truly felt he was jerked from his room, pulled up through his roof, above his city, through the clouds, all the way until he hung above the shining blue gem of his beautiful planet Earth where he briefly stopped for a moment and was allowed to appreciate the splendor of his world as it turned and spun through space.

Then the pull resumed, and he was tugged further.

He saw the Milky Way, and was allowed to watch it rotate as stars spun themselves into and out of existence. Then the pull began again and he witnessed cl_u_s_ters of galaxies zoom past until he hovered at what he believed was the edge of his universe, and watched the intricate web of infinity dance and pulse.

It was only once he had fully left the grip of his old home, that his perspective once again shifted. He gazed down upon his universe as he knew it, and saw it in its entirety from beyond the wall. A glowing marble of incredible potential, separated from other, similar marbles by the barest of margins. They spread in every direction imaginable, and some unimaginable, beyond his comprehension as he witnessed an unknown number of marbles overlap, some occasionally bouncing out of their shivering, layered mass, while others bounced in.

It was at this point he had to shut out his consciousness, as whatever had been guiding him thus far could or would no longer extend its protection to his mind; and he felt the scale, the impossibility of the scope threaten to crush him. So he closed himself off from his surroundings, retreating into the depths of his soul to protect himself, and there he stayed. He clung to his internal ego; to his memories, and experiences, the foundation and structure of what made him who he was, where he floated, embraced in warmth, embraced in the darkness, for an unknown amount of time.

And then the darkness left.

Every clash of steel, every burst of magic, sent tremors through the entirety of the underworld. Seven beings, gods, devils, angels, the strongest members of each coalition worked in concert against one entity. A single man, his form fully covered in blood red armor, the shape reminiscent of one of the pinnacle monsters of their world.

Boost!

His armor sang, causing every member of the strike team to grimace. Every moment that passed, their odds of survival decreased dramatically. One of their comrades spoke up as the squad prepared their next assault.

”We must end this with the next strike. If he boosts again, we will lose.”

The others nodded in acknowledgment.

”I will take the hit,” he continued. ”Strike him down the moment the opening presents itself.” Another round of nods followed as the group spread out, the crimson dragon, Sekiryuutei, floated seemingly unconcerned as he watched his attackers prepare themselves.

The next assault was over within less than a blink of an eye. The forms of the seven blurred, a crimson gauntlet pierced through the stomach of their ally, golden blood dripped from the tips of the claws, falling to the earth in the same instant nine ultimate attacks landed on the red scale armor.

The combination of energies briefly mixed together, trapping the pair within a vortex of color that slowly collapsed, imploding in the next instant. The shockwave from their combined assault shook the underworld one final time.

A single blackened figure fell from the air, swiftly caught by one of their fellows. A dose of Phoenix tears, true tears of the mythological beast, was administered to what was essentially a corpse. Their gambit paid off, the only remains of their enemy being a gauntlet of red, a green gem set within the dorsal side of the gear. The item itself was slowly dissipating into the ether, returning to the system set in place by a dead god. The previously destroyed figure grunted in thanks to their companion.

”Let us all hope the next Red Dragon Emperor requires less of a sacrifice should the worst come to pass.” A crimson haired devil spoke. Nods of agreement passed around the group as they collectively sighed.

”Thank you, Inari. All of us are in your debt for pulling out your trump card. We would have suffered much heavier losses had we delayed any longer.” Sirzechs Lucifer spoke once more. Inari sighed in disp_l_e_a_s_u_r_e.

”I can only pull that stunt off once a millennia. The favors I'll be calling in down the line will not be cheap.” His characteristic fox tail swished behind him to punctuate the statement. The group smiled as a whole, part in relief and part in chagrin.

As the group spoke, watching the gauntlet of their enemy fade, a separate event was occurring just below them. It was an insignificant thing after the clash that had just taken place, but nevertheless drew the attention of the one at the center of the group.

”It appears I have some additional business to attend to,” Inari spoke as he peered at the earth beneath them. A somewhat surprised and contemplative look passed over his face. The group floated down as a whole, stepping upon shards of obsidian glass as they witnessed a somewhat unusual sight for the current day and age.

A golden drop of blood seemed to congeal briefly before flowing into a single shard of polished black glass. A reaction occurred, the glass undulating in an uncharacteristic fashion until it expanded rapidly into the shape of a small kit curled in on itself as though asleep. Its fur was the deepest shade of black, glossy and fine, reminiscent of the material from which it spawned.

”It appears you're a father once more, Inari,” a man with an eyepatch chuckled in good humor. ”I can already tell with the shade of his fur, he'll be rolling in gloriously big t_i_t_s in his future.” The others rolled their eyes at his words, though an unnoticed smirk passed the man's lips as a flash of power flitted behind his sole eye. Inari snorted in response.

”Indeed. I will be staying until my new spawn awakens. The rest of you are more than welcome to accompany me, though I understand if other matters require your attention.”

The group as a whole exchanged glances before bursting into laughter.

”Inari, this is the perfect excuse to extend our stay, away from all of our normal duties and paperwork. Come, come, I happen to have a bottle of Atlantian whiskey that I've been holding onto for a special occasion. Let's all have a drink while we wait for the new little fox to awaken.” A bottle of ancient history popped into existence within the hands of Odin followed by seven glasses that quickly found themselves filled.

”A toast,” one of the angels, Michael, stated. ”To victory, and the future.”

He woke to the clink of glasses, eyes blinking rapidly as he witnessed Sirzechs Lucifer, Serfall Leviathan, Inari Okami, Odin Borson, the seraphs Michael and Gabriel, and fallen angel Azazel toasting and taking a sip of something.

His first emotion was complete and utter confusion, quickly matched in intensity by sheer terror as he cowered beneath the gazes of some of this world's strongest entities, all standing around and watching him as they enjoyed their spirits.

It hadn't even been a conscious interpretation of the situation. His mind simply matched faces to names in his memory and instantly triggered his fight or flight response as scenes of destruction played out in his mind's eye. The man with the aspects of a fox leaned over and gently picked him up, staring into his eyes the whole time.

”There, there, child. You're a rather interesting spawn, aren't you?” He asked rhetorically. It was a curiosity to find a newly born Yokai with the level of intelligence and understanding that this one had. His hands gently stroked soft fur in a soothing manner, only confusing the young canid further as his head whipped around trying to keep everyone in his sight at once. The man hummed in contemplation.

”Yes… Interesting indeed. Young one, I name you Daichi. You can think of me as your father, little kitsune.” A gentle smile graced his features for a moment.