The Hand We're Dealt - Chapter 2 (Patreon)

Highschool DxD is a thinly-veiled fetish anime centering on a teenage boy who discovers he possesses one of the most powerful artifacts forged by the Abrahamic God to empower humans to stand on par with the supernatural races, subsequently joining the 'Devil Faction' to achieve his dream of being a 'Harem King.' I forget exactly when it came out, but it was clearly set in the late two-thousands, early-twenty-tens and praiseworthy in several ways. Principally, it was extremely honest about what it wanted to be. The series had no pretense or deception to it. In the world it was released into, it was extremely rare for a mainstream broadcast anime to explicitly acknowledge sexuality instead of just dumping fanservice gags and voyeuristic camera angles throughout the show to appease the male gaze. Instead, this show explicitly acknowledged the main character's desire for 'all the waifus' and set up an in-universe conceit to make such a dream not only possible, but realistically plausible.

Its setting was also oddly compelling for what was essentially softcore hentai with either direct cameos of, or references to mythological figures all over the world. Even if they weren't necessarily accurate representations thereof, they were at least internally consistent and, usually, fairly interesting. It also presented a world where the lines between conventional delineations of good and evil were believably blurred and complex. You had 'good' devils, 'evil' men of god, and quirky fallen angels trying to get everyone to chill out so they could do science.

It definitely wasn't everyone's jam, though.

The main character could be, and often was, annoying. The focus on near or complete nudity could be excessive even by the most veteran of otaku's opinions. The 'plots' were largely predictable with very clear heroes and villains, and for all that there were figures of various mythologies popping up all over the place, the narrative seemed oddly content to remain in a small Japanese city or a handful of other locations with rare exceptions.

Like the United States.

I mean, not to sound all American about things, but being a hub of international trade, military power, and political influence you'd think that at least some of the 'Big Three' would be hanging out on the continent. But that's not the case. So, despite the setting having a great deal of potential, there was almost nothing known about the specifics of anywhere in the human world outside of Japan.

Likewise, there also wasn't much of a timeline known outside of vaguely-mentioned events and context clues.

For instance, I remembered that Rias' father had Cornelius Agrippa as one of his bishops. Since it was stated that the Evil Pieces system was created after the Devil Civil War that overthrew the Old Satan Faction, that meant the Devil Civil War had to have ended by around the thirteen-hundreds to give Ajuka at least a hundred years to design, perfect, and proliferate the Evil Pieces and-

How the fuck can I remember all of this shit when I'm struggling to claw back anything after geometry?

-the Great War between the Abrahamic Factions was supposed to be long over by the point where the Devil Civil War came to a head. Beyond those few events, it's devilishly hard (pun intended) to pin down anything specific. For instance, did Sirzechs and the New Satans fight in the Great War? General consensus says probably not, but no one really knows for sure.

The only other 'significant' event that I can remember in the centuries before the actual story started was Sirzechs' recruitment of Okita Souji and... MacGregor? The British occultist, to his peerage.

All of which is to say, in a very roundabout way, that I very much have a rather large problem.

Because it is 1807 and I'm in the small city of Hudson, New York being recruited by a sorcerer working out of Dartmouth College.

There's being 'off the map' and then there's having gotten directions from the town drunk in a country you've never traveled to before, is what I'm saying.

I really spent way too much time on internet forums in my past life.

God, it's-

No, wait. God is dead, at least if this is anything close to 'canon.'

And wasn't that a terrifying thought? That I could be in a world where my incredibly limited meta-knowledge didn't even apply.

I guess it's good that my Sacred Gear might level that playing field then, huh?

Sitting there in the dark of the orphanage, my candle already out for the night, my mind kept spinning in circles. Tomorrow, Professor van Beek would be coming to collect me and my meager possessions in preparation for the journey to Hanover, the small New Hampshire town hosting Dartmouth. I'd entertained the errant thought of running away, but almost instantly decided against it. Not only did I have no understanding of this sorcerer's abilities to track me down, but it was realistically one of the best deals I could hope for.

I was, very bluntly, a mixed-race orphan. Thankfully, I could pass for something other than the child of black and white parents. As the professor had said, telling everyone that I was 'Egyptian' would make me a first generation foreigner instead of the bastard of a possible (likely) rape by some prodigal child of a wealthy house.

Outside of the gold ring that my father had evidently left with the matron, I had no real attachment to whoever had brought me into this world, so I didn't have any objection to the deception. Quite honestly, I didn't even know it was one. Even if I suspected the truth, no one had ever met my mother, so it wasn't technically a lie.

It was a small price to pay for having a place to call my own.

Because, Good Nonexistent God, living in the nineteenth century sucked ass. I'd always promised myself that, despite the temptation, I'd never time travel back to before nineteen-eighty if given a choice in the matter. Any further than that and you had to worry about smallpox still being a thing.

Fucking. Smallpox.

One of the most prolific killers in human history. Jesus Possibly-Extant Christ!

I looked back at the book in my lap and resisted the urge to light the candle again and continue reading. I wouldn't even need to go down and beg or steal a match or see if the kitchen fire was still smoldering. The knowledge of the spell I'd put together today burned supernaturally clear in my memory.

[FIRE MAGIC]

I felt the coiling power within me trying to reach out and touch my Sacred Gear, but tamped down on it. The Professor had instructed me not to switch topics outside of his immediate presence. Apparently I released some kind of magical pulse that was easy to detect for anyone attuned to magical energy. Such as The Fallen, Devils, other practitioners, or lesser forms of mystic animals, pests, and oddities.

Unlike most impulsive children in my position, I was inclined to obey that caution.

Even still, the temptation was still there.

Because I'd gotten the best kind of Sacred Gear, one which granted me knowledge instead of power. As long as I had the time to dedicate to study and grow, I'd be able to reach far beyond the limitation of some shitty piece of magical artillery. Or, at least, I hoped so, because I had the sneaking suspicion that I recognized the mechanics of this particular Sacred Gear.

There had been a common conceit, one that I'd even been fond of evoking in my stories, known as 'Inspired Inventor.' Over a given period of time one would be able to select knowledge and skills from a seemingly-infinite reservoir of possibilities. It's perhaps one of the most enduring pieces of a completely and utterly broken CYOA that's otherwise almost faded from memory.

It's not a one-to-one match, though. Not quite.

Firstly, it doesn't seem like I get to keep whatever knowledge I access. Or, well, to be more precise I actually have to learn whatever subject matter I draw forth from the ether. I don't get it shoved into my head automatically with perfect recollection and accuracy. If I don't learn it, it just fades away when I switch to something else.

Beyond that, there's also the fact that I don't seem to be able to pull up knowledge that doesn't exist yet. Like the time I discreetly attempted to access nanotechnology while the professor was considering the next steps to take in acquiring me as his apprentice. All I'd gotten from that was a book with blank pages. My working theory was that my Sacred Gear functioned as some kind of repository for knowledge or was able to access something of the sort to relay the material to me.

In other words, if someone hadn't already had the idea I couldn't access it and I had to actually learn the material.

If I wanted to be an ungrateful little bitch and whine about how I don't have the most insane version of game-breaking bullshit, I'd say this was a 'bad thing.' As it is, I don't actually care about the limitations. Having the sum total of human knowledge on tap is a perfectly fine consolation prize. Especially with how vividly I remembered the spell construct I'd created and how my memories seemed to be clearer than previous days, my Sacred Gear likely had some kind of low-level secondary effect.

At least, that was my working theory at the moment.

I'd just awoken the thing less than twelve hours ago, so I didn't really believe I'd figured everything out in its totality.

There was also the fact that Sacred Gears could grow and change to a significant degree. Hell, some gears could become so powerful that they transcended their original existence and entered the Longinus-class of God-Killing Sacred Gears.

Which... wasn't something I was sure I wanted to aim for, all told.

I wanted to learn magic, there was no doubt about that. As dangerous as the Moonlit World could be, banditry was still a widespread issue in rural America and any sort of organized police force was still several decades off. That was putting aside the fact that someone could easily decide I was 'black enough' for shackles and a lash and magic was a much more secure defense against such attempts than a firearm or reliance on the law codes.

...but did I want to become a figure in the community?

It was something I'd need to consider carefully, along with the fact that I was remembering things more clearly with my Sacred Gear active. There were a number of innovations that I could come up with to sell or implement myself. In particular, I think I could get the Bessemer Process up and running after I'd done that deep-dive on it while reading that Clinton Roosevelt self-insert, especially if I could access Chinese records regarding the incomplete version they used.

I took a deep breath and released it.

I'm getting ahead of myself.

Dreams, ambitions, things I'd thought I'd put behind me... all of them were welling up now. Even if I hadn't lived a full decade here in the orphanage yet, the weight of my time spent here was oppressive. Even in my time, children died due to disease and malnutrition, but it was so much more common here and now.

It was a rare year we didn't have to tote a small coffin to the graveyard on the outskirts of town.

I'd wanted to get out, to be somewhere else...

It looks as though I'd gotten my wish.

Heaving another sigh, I rolled over and forced my thoughts to quiet, willing myself to drift off to sleep.

…

The morning dawned cold and bright.

Prof. van Beek stood with two compatriots outside the orphanage with two carriages loaded for their return trip. Behind and around me were the other children, many looking on with jealousy and envy, especially the older ones. Those who'd recently become what I recognized as a teenager, a foreign word in this time, were especially unhappy. The best they could hope for was catching a master tradesman's eye or picking up a cabin boy's spot on a whaler or a hauler.

Alex, a redhead with stark freckles whose parents had died a few years prior, landing him here, sighed as he looked down at me. “Don't screw it up, smart-ass. You get one shot at this thing.”

Thankfully, the matron was having a few last words with the Professor, so missed the mild linguistic transgression.

I ignored how my throat constricted slightly and nodded.

That was something else that had slowly ground me down.

The helplessness.

It's hard to convey exactly what it was like being so 'young' surrounded by others in the same position without any means to help them.

Alex huffed, cuffing me lightly in the shoulder as he saw the look in my eyes. “Hah, none of that now, Henry. Always knew you'd get out of here. Too much shit in that head of yours, just don't forget where ya' came from, alright?”

“I won't.” I replied with a firm nod. It was something I'd had a lot of practice at.

Alex fixed me with a firm look and nodded.

“One last song!” Susie cried, tears in her eyes, her voice loud enough to distract the adults from their conversation.

Martha turned exasperated and sympathetic eyes to the little girl, just five years old. “Susie May, I don't think...”

Surprisingly, the Professor himself spoke up as he turned. “We're still getting the horses ready. Make it quick.”

With a wave of his hand, he walked away.

I turned the warmest smile I had, I bent slightly and looked the child in the eye. “What song do you want, Susie?”

The girl chewed on her lip, looking around at the other kids, some of them mouthing answers. “Could you... the new one?”

I blinked, cocking my head at the question even as other kids looked excited by the idea of a new song. “Which new one, sweetie? I don't have any new ones ready.”

“The one you were singing out by the creek,” Susie stated. “The one about the-um, the marching band?” She asked shyly.

My mind blanked for a split-second, then realization set in. I laughed awkwardly and started to run a hand through my hair before remembering that Martha had combed it just right (for her) and would be upset if she saw me mess it up before I'd left. “Ah... Susie, that's really not ready yet and-”

“Please?” Susie asked, twisting on the balls of her feet as she looked at me with wide eyes. “Pretty please? I don't want you to leave and never hear it!”

I took a deep breath and turned my face skyward to the faint dawn light.

Well, at least I'm leaving immediately after this. I tried my best, but this one might just make Martha finally tan my hide.

“Alright,” I caved, sighing deeply as I stood and stepped back.

Susie smiled widely, jumping up and down in happiness while Martha looked on, interested. I could see Simons and de Jaager inconspicuously hanging around as well, trying to look as though they weren't paying attention. The Professor had seemingly retreated to one of the carriages, but the door was hanging open.

I really hope this doesn't screw anything up, but... given why I was being picked, I doubted an odd song here or there would be a deal-breaker.

Adjusting my posture, I evened out my breathing and hummed a few preparatory bars.

“When I was a young boy
My father took me into the city
To see a marching band
He said, "Son, when you grow up
Would you be the savior of the broken
The beaten and the damned?"
He said, "Will you defeat them?
Your demons, and all the non-believers
The plans that they have made?"
"Because one day, I'll leave you a phantom
To lead you in the summer
To join the black parade"

It wasn't the worst song to be caught singing, honestly. I'd been worried when she'd mentioned 'the creek' and really hoped she hadn't heard me singing Sabaton or something. Thankfully, Welcome to the Black Parade had shades of Christian values, even if it was a little bit too aggressive for most people these days, I'd imagine.

 I'd tried to tone that down, here and there, making my acapella version softer an more hymnal and it had... mostly worked. It rankled that I'd had to cut the energy down, since that was one of the things I'd enjoyed most about the song. Maybe someday I'd have enough clout or a private venue to sing it properly.

Judging by the wide-eyed stares, I perhaps hadn't done quite as good of a job as I'd thought.

“That was amazing!” Susie squealed, clapping her hands and running up to hug me even as the rest of the orphans broke into applause. Even stoic Alex seemed struck by the final chords.

 Disentangling myself from the horde took a bit, even as Martha gave me one last hug and a mildly chastising narrow gaze. I winced and nodded, accepting the breach of etiquette I'd commitment. On the way to the carriage, Simons clapped me on the shoulder with a grin and a thoughtful gaze.

“If Marteen agrees, I think it would be worthwhile to show you off to the choir director, after all.” The older man chuckled.

I sighed. “If that's what the Professor would like.” I paused, looking around. “You might want to avoid the dock street, sir. I used to sing at a pub or two there for extra coin. If they get word I'm leaving...”

Our eyes trailed to where the kids were being ushered back inside by the matron, Susie giving me one last wave. Mustering a smile, I replied in kind.

Then they were gone, and the door shut.

My throat felt tight again.

“I'll see to it,” Simons stated, giving me another grin.

I learned an important fact that day and would ensure I didn't trust Simons like that ever again. Thankfully, the Professor blamed him for the delay we suffered and not me. Also, a few of the crusty sailors managed to slip me a coin purse to help me on my way.

Looking behind me, Hudson vanishing in the distance as the carriage rolled along the dirt road, I could only steel myself for the future.

~~~

Slightly later than I wanted it out, but I needed to take a mental health day and just chill for a bit. Admittedly, the chapter flowed a lot better after I got back to the keyboard, so I think it worked.

I'm still working on the next chapter of Winning Peace, but it should be up either Sunday or Monday at the latest.

Until then, enjoy this and I hope you like it! Thanks for all your support!