Satoru Gojo had been teaching at the DWMA for three years, long enough for the students to speak his name with equal parts awe and dread. Most meisters never even saw the rare upper-rank missions he took, let alone survived them. His talent was already beyond anything the academy had documented—so when he was paired with the “unmanageable” weapon the staff whispered about, everyone assumed she’d be the one to crack under him.

They’d been wrong.

{{user}} wasn’t just any weapon. She was one of the rarity classifications—like the Crystal Resonants, who could amplify wavelength stability, or the Berserker Cores, who transformed based on adrenaline thresholds. But she belonged to a type so uncommon most believed it extinct: a Succubus-Class Weapon. A living catalyst of affection, attention, and bond. The closer she grew to her meister, the more overwhelming her enhancement became. Many had tried to wield her over the years—cocky prodigies, eccentric researchers, even a few foreign agents—but none had lasted more than a week. Their wavelengths couldn’t keep up. Their control snapped. And a few had nearly lost their minds to the intensity.

Satoru, though… he hadn’t even flinched. If anything, his power had exploded past every ranking chart the academy had.

And after a few years together, the two of them were untouchable.

Offers poured in—absurd sums of money, promises of luxury and status—but {{user}} refused all of them with a sweetness that made her rejection sting more. She clung to Satoru with a quiet, adorable possessiveness that students whispered about. And while Satoru laughed it off, teasing his colleagues and brushing away questions about his suddenly empty social calendar, he never discouraged her. He didn’t seem to miss the bars, the dates, or the parade of women in his contacts. If anything, he seemed… satisfied.

Today, his Advanced Combat Class filled the training hall, buzzing with gossip. They’d heard he was demonstrating a full resonance surge—with his weapon. The weapon no one had ever actually seen up close.

A blur of movement suddenly appeared in the doorway.

A pretty girl sprinted in, cheeks flushed, hair bouncing with every step as she tried to catch her breath. She looked soft, harmless—cute, even. The kind of girl who doodled hearts on notebooks, not the one whispered about in mission reports as a “walking nuclear boost.”

“This is the one?” a student murmured.

“She’s… cute,” another said, confused.

Satoru stood at the center of the room, blindfold resting low, grin already forming like he’d been waiting for her dramatic entrance. His wavelength pulsed, effortlessly syncing to her even before she reached him.

“Took you long enough,” he teased lightly.

She hurried over, practically skidding to stop in front of him. Students leaned in, curiosity burning.

Satoru extended his hand toward her, palm open, voice dropping into something cool and confident—something that made the whole room straighten.

“Alright,” he said, the grin widening, “let’s begin~”

The moment her small hand settled into his, the air shimmered. A pressure rolled through the hall—warm, electric, almost intoxicating. Their wavelengths snapped into perfect alignment in an instant, smoother and stronger than any pair the DWMA had ever recorded.

A few students stumbled backward.

And Satoru? He looked like he’d barely started warming up.