Disclaimer: I own neither Naruto nor Highschool DxD, and make no profit writing about them.

(AN): Lots of guesses, but none of them were quite right…

"Don't just stare you fools. Pick them up!"

The crack of Ophis' voice broke through the panicked bustle of voices, uncommonly sharp with the demanding discipline of a drill sergeant. Blood still bubbled from her mouth and nostrils, but the Dragon God still stood strong and unyielding.

Yuuto cursed, looping his arms underneath Naruto's armpits and dragging the unconscious redhead somewhat upright. The blond knight clenched his jaw at the utterly boneless way Naruto continued to sag. It was as If the Gremory heir was gravely ill.

Or dying.

Scarlet sparks glittered as Rias twisted both hands into upturns claws, her magic reaching out to pluck Naruto from Yuuto's arms and scoop Sasuke off Koneko's back. Her levitation spell was slow and careful, rolling the two young men onto their backs and holding them ramrod straight as if they were strapped to invisible spinal boards.

"Let's get them inside." The Ruin Princess decided tentatively, teal gaze settling onto the pale-faced Ouroboros Dragon with disquiet. Rias had a strong suspicion they were dealing with something so far beyond any of their capabilities that there was no real hope for any of them.

Something that could injure the strongest being in existence was out of their league.

Grey eyes flashed as Ophis grunted an agreement, already turning to lead the way out of the Spring sunlight and back into the safety of Starling Hall. Almost absently, the gothic lolita attempted to swipe the blood from her face with the back of one dainty hand.

More than one devil in the crowd trailing after Ophis wanted to ask how the Ouroboros Dragon seemed to know the exact layout of their home. There was no sense of hesitation as Ophis led them through the halls towards Rias's bedroom. But discretion triumphed valor and they decided sometimes it was better not to know the answer.

Bursting through the double oak doors, Ophis motioned wordlessly at the pale green silk sheets. The expression of impatience twisting her features was so utterly Sasuke that it made Akeno blink and stare. It was queer seeing the Uchiha's narrowed gaze, pinched mouth, and slightly upticked left eyebrow on a literal god's face.

The Thunder Priestess shook away the idle curiosity that pricked her, and then stepped around the side of the massive bed, watching as Rias carefully lowered their two unconscious friends to the mattress. She waited just long enough for the scarlet swirl of sorcery to disperse before laying a hand over Naruto's pale forehead.

It was cold as ice with clammy sweat clinging to it.

"What is going on?" Rias demanded, summoning all of the sense of command that lay in her noble pedigree, only to be brushed aside as the dark-haired shapeshifting dragon threw herself in the bed between the comatose pair.

Little hands snaked down Naruto's and Sasuke's collars, settling on their chests with smooth palms laid flat over their stuttering hearts. A black sort of void began to flutter beneath Ophis' hands, throbbing like swelling black holes and sucking up so much light that it was visible even through flesh and cloth.

Then the outpouring of energy stabilized, leaving Ophis sitting on her knees with a vacant expression. It was as if she'd fallen comatose as well, grey eyes dull and unseeing. Her body was before them, but her mind was elsewhere.

Koneko huffed quietly at the tense silence, amber eyes darting from Akeno to Ravel to Rias. The nekomata would have expected someone to suggest they should get in contact with the rest of the family, but she supposed the years of distance and self-sufficiency had taken their toll. Their first instinct was secrecy and trying to solve problems on their own rather than going to their guardians.

The bedsprings creaked when Ophis gave a full body shudder, dark light fading as she took her hands back and pinched the bridge of her nose. She'd survived millennia alone before, but now that she'd bled into Sasuke and had her pet soldier bleed into her she felt hollow without that too-close connection simmering in her heart.

"What happened?"

"Their souls are gone." Ophis' declaration was cool, the sharp tone of her voice finally edging towards its customary blandness. She didn't look particularly pleased as she slid off the bed, wiping at her face once more, but the faint manic energy that had been hovering in the air dissipated. She was not happy, but Ophis could work with this.

Ravel fisted a hand in the navy-blue cotton of her sweatshirt, unable to tear her gaze away from her fiancé's white face and bloodless lips. The shallow rise and fall of Naruto's chest was her only visible reassurance the devil she had developed feelings for was still alive. "That's not exactly good news."

"No, it's not." Akeno agreed, violet fire flashing in her eyes as she boldly met the Dragon God's passionless stare. As the daughter of a shrine maiden and a fallen angel, she knew a bit more about the stuff of spirits than most of her peers did. "Without souls their bodies will die. And without bodies their souls will be lost."

The thought terrified her. Akeno had already lost her mother and only just managed to rebuild her heart from the splinters of that loss. If her friends started dying around her, how would she be able to cope with it?

A pensive frown crossed Ophis' face as she smoothed a hand over the black folds of her gothic skirt. "There is no need for concern, Himejima Akeno. We are twice bound now, and I will sustain them."

The steady declaration masked a rolling sense of turmoil beneath. Ophis had already been regretting getting more closely tied to Uchiha Sasuke, but rather than cut her losses she'd bound him and Uzumaki Naruto's souls even closer to the wellspring of her being?

It was irrational, but despite the unease her choice caused her, letting go seemed… wrong.

"For how long?"

"As long as is necessary."

Zeoticus tightened the bright red necktie around his throat, light blue orbs glazed over as he considered the winding path of the Uji River as it passed Kyoto. It was fitting, he supposed, that he would be invited back into the city of Emperors. His own bloodline was more prestigious than any human's, and the woman he intended to meet had her own storied pedigree.

"She is ready for you now, Lord Gremory."

Running a hand over the cherry stained wood of the balconey, Zeoticus flashed a wolfish grin and turned to face the kitsune's servant. Every motion contained within it a mixture of arrogance and civility that was just barely within the expectations of propriety.

He was no common supplicant. He was the father of a Satan, a Duke of Hell, and a victorious general in his own right. If Zeoticus had to give them all a show to make sure they never forgot that, then that was exactly what he would do.

"Lead on then."

The black-haired tengu just bowed politely, folding his hands in his voluminous sleeves before sweeping a welcoming arm towards the innards of the shrine. He was, like all male youkai under the fox's rule in Kyoto; deceptively androgynous with a stoic face. It would be easily to mistake the youkai for a woman.

Fitting, perhaps, that the court arranged itself around the preferences of its monarch. To do otherwise would have suggested weakness, and Zeoticus had no use for weak allies.

The Duke stepped inside, padding along the winding hallways in sock-clad feet with the sort of self-confident swagger he'd use in his brother-in-law's home. Comfortable with the suggestion of familiarity, and self-assured of his own worth.

Taking the final turn, Zeoticus nodded gaily at the pair of kneeling shrine maidens that guarded the doors of their mistress' shamuso.

There was no hesitation as the brunette girls slid open the rice paper doors and allowed him to step into the smoky dim confines of the office.

Zeoticus inhaled the faint scent of burning tobacco, his sharp gaze easily picking out the embers that huddled in the bowl of a gracefully carved kiseru. "Well met, my lady."

Slitted golden orbs flared, and smooth pink lips settled around the stem of the kiseru for another dainty inhale.

As air moved into the blonde's lungs, her generous breasts shifted beneath the loose borders of her blue and orange koi patterned yukata. Creamy flesh peeked out from the neckline of the silk robe and below the waist, sinfully drawing the eyes to the exposed valley of her breasts and the elegant lines of her legs. Nine pale gold, white tipped tails cushioned her back, giving the kitsune an easy way to sprawl with all the refinement of a queen.

It was only after the thin stream of smoke slid between those perfect, perfect lips that Yasaka deigned to speak. "Be welcome in my home, my lord." She murmured with throaty sensuality, wielding her beauty like a weapon with the experience of centuries.

And despite his enduring fidelity to his own wife, Zeoticus was not entirely immune. He had eyes after all. Any redblooded male would find himself stiffening in Yasaka's presence when she took it upon herself to flirt.

Accepting the implicit invitation, Zeoticus sunk down cross-legged across the chabudai from the leggy youkai. "I see that your hospitality is as gracious as I remember." The redhead grinned winningly, the loose end of his ponytail trailing over his left shoulder and bobbing against his chest.

"One cannot help but do their utmost when hosting such an esteemed visitor." Yasaka demurred, eyes half-lidded as she considered her guest. A snap of her fingers had the kiseru levitating so she could lean forward and take up the black ceramic pot in the center of the table with both hands, as was proper. "A drink, then?"

"I would be honoured." Zeoticus agreed, ignoring the view of his hostess' cleavage and bowing to the rules of propriety. Taking up his saucer to hold at the ready, he watched the fox demon pour him generous helping before switching to pour her a cup of reishu.

A faint smile quirked Yasaka's mouth as the chilled sake settled. "To your health." She toasted informally, lifting the ceramic bowl to her lips and sipping at the cold alcohol. It was practically slush, and a touch too cold considering the mild spring weather, but it was still her favourite.

A single shining droplet clung to the corner of her mouth, only to be artfully swept up by the quick dart of her glistening pink tongue.

Having exchanged the requisite greetings, Yasaka took her kiseru back up and inhaled another mouthful of spicy finely shredded tobacco smoke. It was not strictly a ladylike habit, but everyone was permitted a few vices, and it ultimately added to her feral allure.

"How has your daughter been?" Zeoticus questioned, voice husky from the scorch of youkai prepared alcohol. A normal human drink would never have such an effect on the inside of his throat, but rice wine fortified with demon sorcery could take its toll.

"She's well. Excelling in her studies and her duties as my heir. She does her ancestors proud. And your children?"

"Just the same. Rias's intellect and kind heart are sure to win her accolades, and Sirzechs is a son any father would be honoured to claim."

Yasaka hummed an acknowledgement. "How wonderful. It's a shame that I've never met your boy. I've heard so many things about him that I can't help but feel curious." The insult was subtle, reducing the Satan Lucifer from a warlord to a child only mentioned in passing conversation.

A less experienced man might have taken offense at the gentle slander, but Zeoticus let it pass by. It was all part of the game after all. "Well, I would be glad to convey your sentiments to him. I don't know if he'd be able to take the time away from his important duties, but I'll see what we can do."

The insult was received and returned.

Yasaka's smile grew a little broader, fangs gleaming and the faint sear of amusement lighting in her golden irises. "That would be most kind of you. Ruling is always a conflict between responsibilities, and sometimes the lesser must yield to the greater. A man like the Satan Lucifer, or the Duke Gremory even; can rarely take the time to indulge flights of fancy. So I must ask, what can I do for you?"

Smiling seductively, Yasaka trailed a hand across the visible pale expanse of her generous chest in a silent offer. A lesser man would have pursued that offer to his own ruin, so caught up in the smell of honey that he failed to see the steel trap. Perhaps he would have been turned into a puppet by the wiles of the fox demon, or simply rejected and accused of churlish deviancy against a foreign monarch.

Zeoticus was not a lesser man. "I had thought to convey an offer of alliance from the Gremory clan." The statement was audacious, delivered with steely eyes and an unwavering voice.

It was enough to make Yasaka's hand briefly spasm around the stem of her pipe. "My, my. That's quite a bold offer from Gehenna. I can't help but wonder why you would come with it to me now, having just triumphed in a war against Mictlan. You've even made the angels and the vampires your friends. Are you so gregarious?"

The gleam of Zeoticus' light blue eyes cut through the smoke clouding the room. "You've misunderstood me. This is an offer from the clan, not from the country." He was gambling by coming on so strongly, cutting through the usual dance of barely implied offers and months of courtesy. But even so, the Duke was confident. There was still a certain etiquette to be followed in such negotiations, and that meant even if he was to be refused he could still expect that Yasaka wouldn't be running to sell him out to his rivals.

Sometimes there was honor among thieves.

A twist of her hand vanished the kiseru, banishing the smoke and bringing an abrupt clarity to the darkness of the shamuso. There was no teasing smile on Yasaka's aristocratic face now, only a considering stare with the tips of her claws conspicuous as she cradled her cheek in one palm.

As the ruler of all the Kyoto youkai, Yasaka was bound to the city to govern the dragon veins that pulsed beneath it. She was both monarch and priestess, abating the possibility of magestorms and natural disasters through her constant presence. Leaving the city was a very rare occurrence, and something she only did at great need. But that did not make her ignorant to what was happening in the rest of the world.

She was quite aware of the scattering of conflicting spheres of influence. The youkai and the devils competed on one side. The native kami and the foreign Church of the Christians on the other. Then there were the agreed neutral zones ruled over by the primarily ignorant humans. It was a delicate balance of power maintained by constant alliances and the rivalry between pantheons, who were themselves undermined by subfactions and internal politics.

Friendly relations with some of the devil clans was expected, even applauded by those with an understanding of the realpolitik beneath it all. But Yasaka suspected that Zeoticus was proposing something a little more concrete than usual, and much more dangerous.

The amber burn of her eyes was hotter than liquid sunlight. "Fool. Have you gone mad? Coming to me with such an offer… are you trying to take over this country?"

Zeoticus' white teeth shone as he grinned. "Nothing quite so chaotic, I assure you."

Vali stalked from the war room, sneering at the puffed up gathering of self-important generals and collected nobles from a dozen ragtag pantheons. They were all parasites, clinging to Ophis' coattails in the hope that her power would lead to padded pockets and cushy titles for the lot of them.

Never in his life had the half-devil expected to be craving the company of idealists and warmongers. Maybe they were searching for something different in their struggle, but at least their motives were clean and greater than base greed.

"Ahh, Vali. Why don't you turn that frown upside down?"

"Le Fay." The Hakuryuuko greeted without pausing in his strides, prompting the teenager to huff and trot after him. "Any luck?"

"No." the blonde witch denied vaguely as she chewed her bottom lip, crystal blue eyes shifting from one side of the bare corridor to the other suspiciously. The Army of Disaster might have barreled into the Naraka realms like a Mongol horde, burning everything to the ground. But soon enough they'd turned to building a kingdom on the ashes. And all kingdoms had dirty politics.

The walls had ears.

Vali cursed, shoving his hands in his pockets and stepping out into the courtyard. Layers of sorcery had turned it from an ash choked enclosure to a miniature Eden-esque garden. Easier on the eyes and nose perhaps, but just as fake as their supposedly battle-crowned conquest was turning out to be.

It wasn't like he could blame Ophis for misleading advertisement or anything. She'd promised battle, but she'd never said that he wouldn't have to train for it and that he wouldn't find himself caught up in the bullshit politics his noble devil ancestors had once lived and breathed for. It was just an unfortunate fact of life. "Where's Bikou?"

Le Fay just twirled her index finger in a silent 'around somewhere' gesture. The Monkey Prince had been the most shocked and dismayed when their erstwhile leader had suddenly started leaking blood everywhere before vanishing in a crack of void magic. The man had immediately taken off in a frantic search for her that the rest of their team had barely managed to cover up.

Their team was an odd collection of misfits that really had no business being as close to the Ouroboros Dragon as they were. Le Fay and Arthur Pendragon were humans descended from a royal family affiliated with the Church. Bikou was the son of Sun Wukong, and Kuroka was a triple S ranked criminal in Gehenna. Vali himself was half human commoner and half the blood of one of the original Satans. They had no business working together, much less in service to an ageless being that wasn't allied to any of their birth factions.

But somehow, they worked. Ophis tolerated them better than she endured any of her other subordinates, letting them hang around rather than ordering them to leave her be. She even trained them, always wearing a quizzical expression like she couldn't quite decide why she was bothering with a gaggle of lowly mortals.

For a collection of individuals less damaged than they were, it would barely be enough to be considered more than acquaintances. But for them, it was the foundation of a deeper bond. So when Ophis went missing, Vali worried, and was willing to lie to keep the secret of her sudden weakness.

He just hoped she came back soon. They couldn't hide her sudden absence for much longer, and if the sycophants realized their untouchable ruler wasn't so untouchable after all there would be blood in the water.

Sairaorg wretched, his flanks tightening as he spewed chunks of vomit from his lips. Sweat soaked tendrils of dark hair hung in his eyes, crowding his vision until all the Bael heir could see was black shadows and the white porcelain bowl of the toilet he was currently wrapped around.

"Oh god." He groaned, the faint headache that bloomed with prayer going unnoticed beneath the throbbing ache of his hangover and the rippling pain that raced up his sides as he began to heave again. Strings of green bile dribbled from his mouth as his stomach came up empty and began milking the gall bladder for something to puke.

Gentle fingers combed through Sairaorg's hair, pulling the inky mane out of his face while another warm hand settled over his back to give a comforting rub. He didn't even have to look to know it was Kuisha, faithfully tending to him despite his spiraling descent into uselessness and alcoholism.

She had always been loyal like that, serving his needs in all capacities. Much of the time before he even realized he might want something. It was convenient and comforting and awing all in one. She had always been too good to him. Especially lately considering how utterly unbearable he probably was as a depressed alcoholic.

For the first time in months, Sairaorg began to feel something that wasn't related to his nightmares about the blood of innocents on his hands. It was something like shame.

"Why are you still here?" he wheezed, clutching at the toilet as another urge to heave passed over him.

The rest of his peerage hadn't abandoned him. Not really. But there was a certain distance that hadn't been there before. They were giving him space and waiting for their young would-be monarch to return. It was the sort of choice made by those attached to the person he was at his best rather than all parts of him, and they all made it. All except Kuisha, who had followed him relentlessly into the abyss.

"I will always be here." The blonde Queen declared without a single tremor in her voice. She might as well have been describing the weather forecast, so effortlessly was the statement was offered. It was a fact for her, rather than an opinion or even a promise. It was a reassuring thought, but it also compounded Sairaorg's shame.

What had he become?

Wiping the back of his hand across his bile stained lips, Sairaorg shut his eyes and did something he hadn't done in ages. He dug deep for courage, and swayed to his feet despite the weakness in his muscles and the dizziness in his brain. What did the humans say? 'Sometimes one had to hit a wall', or something to that effect.

"Kuisha, I'm sorry." Sairaorg croaked, bloodshot eyes fluttering open as he turned to pin his Queen with a dim violet stare. The hopelessness in his eyes had settled deep, but after so long there was once more the faint embers of a familiar flame.

Without waiting for her acknowledgement, Sairaorg peeled the grimy clothes from his body and stumbled across the bathroom so he could throw himself into the shower. His hands fumbled for the taps, twisting them on with a savage jerk.

The shock of cold water hitting his naked flesh was so icy it burned, but Sairaorg just clenched his teeth and refused to cry out. Eventually the hot pounding between his ears subsided into a duller pulse, and only then did he turn to slather on the shampoo.

The chill and soap chased the filth of his body down the grated drain, and Sairaorg could almost imagine he was washing off the filth of weakness that had seeped into every crevice of his being. It hurt more than the guilt he'd been carrying. It hurt more than the oblivion at the bottom of the bottle. But as he pressed on until he was completely clean, Sairaorg found himself feeling renewed.

Stepping back out of the shower, the Bael heir straightened his back and sought out his toiletries. He gave his teeth a thorough brushing before shaving the planes of his face and neck. The beard of weeks fell away to reveal a jawline slightly sharper and a face more hollowed then Sairaorg was used to, but it was his face. The face of a soldier that had been bent and broken, but who could be reforged.

The devil traced a finger over the bags beneath his eyes, prodding at the purpled skin. It was a mark that couldn't be washed away, serving as a tangible reminder of his weaknesses until he successfully overcame them.

"Kuisha, summon the rest of the peerage. There's work to do."

Silas Gremory curled his fingers, tightening the summoned ball of fire between his fingers until the flames flickered from red to blue to white. The fatigue of a hard day of training had settled into his bones, but the redhead wasn't quite ready to give up.

He'd been raised to be more than third best, and if he had to cheat and steal and bleed to get there, he would find a way to scramble to the top or die trying.

It wasn't that he hated Naruto, Rias, Sirzechs, or Zeoticus. Silas was more than willing to recognize their strength. Naruto and Rias were both considered prodigies, while Sirzechs and Zeoticus were accomplished sorcerers and politicians. It was just that Silas had a keen sense of his own birthright and the conviction that might didn't make right.

His grandfather and Naruto's great-grandfather had been siblings, and Silas acknowledged the other boy as his kinsman. But Zeoticus' father had been a barbarian and a usurper, challenging his elder brother for the right of succession and triumphing based on brute muscle. Rather than selecting a successor based on tradition or the mental capability of governance, it had all defaulted back to force.

As the son of the elder line, Silas had the duty to uphold tradition and take back the rights of succession from his cousins. He also, from a philosophical standpoint, knew that he would be a more capable and enlightened ruler. What did Naruto have? An enhanced savant talent at tossing spells around. What did Rias have? Intellect combined with a complete lack of drive.

Maybe Silas didn't have as much raw magic backing him up, especially considering the Power of Destruction Naruto had inherited from his grandmother, but Silas was better prepared to rule. He'd studied every day since he'd left the cradle. What worth did a pretty spell have compared to maximized economic efficiency, ironclad political alliances, and a carefully cultivated cult of personality?

None.

The fire in his hands sputtered, but Silas just grit his teeth and forced himself past the pain. He would do this. He was the worthier heir, and he would prove it on every single field from academics to combat. His hard work would overcome natural talent and lazy genius.

"You better be prepared cousin. I'm coming for you."

Beep. Beep. Beep.

In all the movies awareness trickled in slowly. Every heartbeat slowly pushed back the darkness in a gentle steady tide until the wounded managed to crack open bleary eyelids. Once the patient sought the world, details trickled in. A blinding white light inevitably resolved into blurry shapes, and then sharpened as the last remnants of sleep scorched away. A final blink, and then the protagonist would refocus on his faithful wife or girlfriend and smile innocently, the shadow of death beaten back once more.

For Naruto, the transition was abrupt. In one moment he was sleeping, blissfully unaware as half a dozen machines monitored his vitals and peered into the visceral parts of his body. In the next moment he was awake, eyes rolling and a scream bubbling up in his throat as he rolled off the bed and hit the tiled floor with a smack.

Fuck. Fuck. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and his heart was still trembling painfully in his chest. Naruto squeezed his eyes shut, sucking in a breath to steady himself against the phantom pain and despair. Then he pressed a calloused palm over his breast, feeling the steady thump that told him no matter what strange pain and darkness had seeping into, he was alive.

"Fire and ashes." Naruto hissed, curling his abdomen tighter and letting his forehead rest on the cool floor. Satans below, he'd never felt so much pain in either of his existences.

The air was full of the low drone of an alarm, blaring in regular intervals as Naruto fumbled and tore the suction cups from his chest. Fuck the doctors, he wasn't going to be laying in wherever the hell he was longer than necessary.

"Naruto."

What.

What the hell was this?

Unsteadily rearing back on his knees, Naruto stared with dazed blue eyes. His pupils were blown wide from the shock and the stress, and every half-formed thought he could muster sputtered to a halt.

For Naruto Gremory, the woman staring down at him was an incomprehensible sight. She didn't compute within the boundaries of the son of the Duke's experiences.

She was, however, inalienable to Uzumaki Naruto. Age and stress had lined the familiar lines of her face with a handful of wrinkles, staining her bright springtime hair with streaks of grey, but he knew her. And she was someone he hadn't expected to see so soon, if ever again. So as he floundered, Naruto could only say one thing through cracked lips and a dry throat.

"Sakura-chan."

Emerald green eyes narrowed, and Sakura reached up one hand wreathed in green chakra to touch Naruto's forehead. Dainty fingertips danced over the skin of his forehead, trailing across the temples before threading fully into his hair to cradle the back of his skull. "Everything seems fine." She murmured, more to herself than to him. "Is it just the shock of resurrection?"

"Sakura, what are you babbling on about?" Naruto demanded, his lips moving in a way that didn't feel quite right.

"Naruto, breathe deep and calm down! Your BP is spiking. Take a minute and just breathe, alright?"

Thinning his lips, Naruto rocked back on his heels and pushed the heavy crown of blond hair out of his face. And then froze, pupils dilating as a fresh shock of adrenaline hit his system.

The strands threaded through his fingers were blond and golden like the sun, rather than bright red like the blood rushing through his veins.

"Sakura, what the fuck did you do?"

(AN): 5000 words, and that's a wrap. Mostly this was a difficult chapter to write. That last scene felt like the ideal way to end the first part of the trilogy, so I ended up having to bounce around to find stuff to put before it. Which was difficult after I went and sewed up a bunch of the other plotlines in the last couple of chapters.

What was the delay? Writing other things combined with cramming two university courses into a week and a half. Ugh, ANGER. Anyway, I guess I better answer all the questions since this is the last AN for Irregular Metronome.

I'll admit that I have my weaknesses as a writer. I don't actually like Naruto, so even though I went into this intending on making him and Sasuke equal protagonists, my bias bled into the work. It's also been the slowest of slowburns, there's been a lot of plots rolling around in a big fucking Kudzu ball, and sometimes needless complex worldbuilding. That all said, I hope to address the character imbalance in the sequel.

Raiyoukai mentioned this in his review. "At this point in time, there isn't much for Naruto to be doing. He doesn't have a large peerage to be interacting with. He doesn't have … mental issues, political blockades and powerlessness … to overcome. … Where Sasuke is dealing with being at the bottom of the totem pole and dealing with a peerage of headcases, Naruto's only big issues was a desire to fight, and a need to build his relationship with Ravel."

It was easier for me to write in a Sasuke-centric way, personally and from a plot perspective. But that's an excuse. Naruto wasn't doing anything, but I should have thought up things for him to do. Which is part of why I decided to throw out the original canon Kyoto plot lay down the potential here for something different going forward.

I decided to break the story up because I felt that firstly, the Konoha arc wouldn't really fit in with the rest of the DxD focused stuff. And secondly, that it would serve as a transition between the earlier worldbuilding and the later actual conflict.

Why is everything so OOC – When I can, I try and reimagine from the perspective of realism. Sirzechs in this series is not the goofy siscon of canon. He's a gritty political warlord that revolutionized an entire society and overthrew the previous government. He's defined more by that than he is by oppai comedy gimmicks. The same for Serafall or Zeoticus or anyone else.

Naruto's Familiar – Is not Kunou or Kurama. The reason he doesn't have one now while Sasuke does is that I feel there may be some applicability to the Kunou plot.

Why the Aztec Gods so powerful – All Gods have a base level of wrecking shit power. This is seen with Odin, who is still considered big shit despite having no believers.

What did you accomplish with this fic – At the end of it, Irregular Metronome served as a setup piece. It built the world, aligned the characters, and developed them. Sasuke was the main beneficiary of this, since he went from 'I hate myself' to a more ambitious sort of individual. It also developed the beginnings of romance. The Sasuke/Rias/Akeno triage and the Naruto/Ravel, Naruto/Valerie combination.

Dat title – Going in, it was just something that sounded cool. Coming out, I guess you can consider the Irregular Metronome to be representative of Naruto and Sasuke. A metronome measures time, something that comes for us all 60 seconds to the minute, 24 hours a day. Naruto and Sasuke fall in and out of time and space randomly and without expectation. They're 'irregular' existences.

Where do we go nao – The sequel will be a shorter work that is focused on developing Naruto philosophically. I need to move him away from 'let's just talk it out' before going into part 3.