Date a Bride (Date A Live Fanfiction)

Five years had passed since that night—since what some called a disaster, and others, genocide.

The memories still lingered, like smoke clinging to Japan's southern coasts, where thousands of lives were lost in an instant. Entire towns lay in ruins, reduced to rubble, with losses too vast to truly measure.

The official narrative called it a natural disaster, the result of a tectonic event—perhaps a magnitude 9 earthquake deep beneath the ocean. Others pointed to something far more ominous: a phenomenon first recorded twenty-five years ago in Eurasia, which had claimed the lives of 150 million people back then—Spacequakes.

But the full truth? Only those who had witnessed it firsthand could claim to know.

It began at three in the morning. People had woken up to an intense, blinding light outside their windows, bright enough to make it seem as though the sun had suddenly appeared in the dead of night.

Many stumbled outside, bewildered, only to realize the sun wasn't rising—it was too early, too unnatural. Confusion rippled through households, sparking hushed conversations in the otherwise quiet night.

But the stillness didn't last—Shattered in an instant as the blinding light vanished.

A deafening boom tore through the air, searing and thunderous, so loud and forceful it felt as though the earth itself had been torn asunder.

The blast was followed by a violent tremor, a quake that surged through the region with terrifying force, shaking buildings to their foundations, rattling nerves, and freezing people in panic.

Those nearest to the explosion's origin felt it worst, homes folding in upon themselves, ground cracking open, and then, as if to punctuate the chaos, a tsunami roared ashore, its unrelenting waves devouring everything in their path.

Entire neighborhoods were swept away, reduced to little more than fragmented debris. When morning broke, the chaos gave way to an eerie silence, the vibrant towns replaced by endless stretches of water and skeletal remains of a world that once was.

The devastation was unparalleled, and rumors spread like wildfire. While the government maintained it was a geological event, most of the locals—and even onlookers from afar—were convinced otherwise.

Whispers of a hidden weapon experiment gained momentum, implicating an unseen human hand in the catastrophe. Speculation about a nuclear weapons experiment soon dominated media headlines, sending shockwaves through the international community and prompting demands for accountability.

Major powers like the United States, Russia, and China were quick to hurl accusations. Each nation found itself under scrutiny, suspicion shifting like a pendulum as blame ricocheted across global channels.

But then, something strange happened. In the days that followed, just as public outrage peaked, as protests erupted and investigations seemed inevitable, the controversy began to... vanish.

News articles disappeared without explanation, statements were quietly retracted, and the same governments that had been loudly pointing fingers at one another suddenly fell silent.

Even Japan, the nation most affected by the disaster, grew eerily quiet. Government officials refused to provide further comments, and the once-detailed public records of the disaster seemed to shrink, their availability dwindling with each passing year.

Within months, it was as though the calamity had never occurred—wiped clean from the pages of history. Yet, for those who had witnessed the blinding flash of light that night, felt the earth tremble beneath them, and survived the relentless chaos, the memories could never be erased from their minds.

Part 2:

Deep beneath the verdant hills of the northern United Kingdom, hidden from all but a select few, lay a top-secret facility.

Sterile white hallways stretched endlessly in every direction, their oppressive silence broken only by the faint hum of fluorescent lights casting cold shadows on the pristine walls.

"... So, what's the news?"

A faint echo of footsteps cut through the stillness, growing steadily louder with each passing moment.

"News?"

Two figures, a man and a woman in crisp white lab coats, walked side by side, their hushed conversation reverberating off the walls.

"You know what I'm talking about... that spirit. It's been five years already."

The other figure, a woman with a clipboard tucked under one arm, sighed, shaking her head.

"She's endured far more than we expected," she replied quietly. "Her emotional levels spiked three times in the last twenty-four hours. Compared to the 5,785 incidents recorded during the same period in the first experiment five years ago, it's clear she's adapted to the... methods."

"Figures... We've already tried every form of torture—known and unknown to humankind—and yet she still hasn't inverted. What a monster..."

They continued down the long hallway in tense silence, passing countless identical doors until they finally arrived at a massive, unmarked metal entrance.

The man stepped forward, leaning in as a retinal scanner activated with a soft whirr, flashing a light over his eyes. A hand scanner emerged next, and he pressed his palm against it. After a swift scan, he keyed in a complex sequence on the panel beside him.

With a resounding hiss, the door unlocked, releasing a mechanical groan that filled the hallway as it creaked open.

"God, I hate watching this..."

The woman glanced sideways, her expression impassive but with a faint edge of something that might have been sympathy—or perhaps it was just fatigue. "None of us do... But we're under orders..."

As they stepped into the dimly lit chamber, illuminated by the cold, clinical glow of countless monitors, the quiet hum of machinery filled the air.

Workers in identical white coats moved with a kind of detached urgency. Some sat hunched over their monitors, their tired eyes absorbing the streams of data and commands. Others rushed between stations, their hands burdened by stacks of reports.

At the center of the room, a transparent glass barrier divided the space, cutting the chamber into two distinct areas.

The glass was reinforced and so tightly fitted that it seemed almost to meld into the walls, leaving no gap or weakness, an unyielding barrier between the observers and the figure restrained on the other side.

"Well, I better get started—those papers won't finish themselves,"

The male researcher said with a half-hearted chuckle, forcing a bit of energy into his voice as he moved toward his station. He let out a long, tired sigh as he sat down, fingers already reaching for the nearest stack.

"Yeah..." The woman murmured in response, before turning her head back.

She quietly moved closer to the glass, a deep dark circle under her eyes as she took in the scene beyond.

The room on the other side was brightly lit, a stark contrast to the dim area she was in. Its walls were lined with sleek white panels, smooth and sterile, leaving the space devoid of any markings or decorations—a purely functional enclosure designed for one purpose alone.

At the center of the white room stood an angled platform, tilted back at a thirty-degree angle, designed solely for containment.

Suspended on the platform was a young girl, the spirit, bound in an X-shaped restraint naked. Her arms and legs were bound tightly in thick, metallic locks that encased her wrists and ankles, holding her firmly in place.

More of the same metal restraints wrapped around her torso, concealing her hips and chest in a cold, unyielding grip. Several processing pipes and wires snaked out from the platform, attached to her body, pulsating faintly as if drawing something vital from her.

Covering the upper half of her face was a sleek, blue helmet. Its metallic surface clung tightly around her head, wrapping over her eyes and ears. The design extended downward, covering the bridge of her nose and reaching just above her lips, leaving only the lower half of her face visible.

The woman pressed a hand against the glass, narrowing her eyes.

"They said spirits were supposed to be powerful, dangerous creatures... yet look at her," she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper. "She's just... quiet."

With a sigh, she withdrew her hand, turning toward the long platform to her left. Panels of keys and monitors lined the sleek surface, glowing faintly in the dim room. Researchers sat in orderly rows, their eyes glued to the glowing screens, data scrolling rapidly as they adjusted settings and exchanged quiet, technical murmurs.

She folded her arms, her gaze drifting back to the spirit on the other side of the reinforced glass.

"What's her current status report?"

One of the researchers tapped briskly on the panel as data flowed across the monitor.

"Spirit codename: Bride. Reiryoku reserves are holding at 0.0059% of baseline capacity, with energy output stable at 0.0043%. Physical durability is nominal, with no signs of damage in the capture target body. She's fully healed herself from the last experiment—the healing process took her about four hours and twenty-five minutes, approximately two minutes slower than the previous recovery."

She raised an eyebrow. "Still at 0.0043% for her Reiryoku? So, in other words, she's only dropped 0.0003% over six months of experiments?" Her gaze returned to Bride's silent form, hanging in the restraints like a fragile doll.

"How are we supposed to push her into an Inverse form if the decrease is this slow, and each experiment reduces the drop percentage of her Reiryoku even less? Her emotional response is about to flatline, and once it does, we'll have no leverage left to bring her levels down any further."

"Yes, ma'am. But..."The researcher nodded, his voice edged with unease. "... we're already pushing containment to the limit. Pushing further... could kill her."

Another researcher chimed in, "With every suppression cycle, we're already operating on the edge. Pushing further may destabilize her core completely, or worse... lead to a permanent shutdown of her Reiryoku output. Without actually reaching the desired negative Reiryoku output for the inverse to happen... which simply means her death. "

The female researcher sighed, frustration tightening her posture. "And the last experiment? When was it conducted, and what were the results?"

The lead researcher pulled up the latest report, fingers moving swiftly over his keyboard. "The last session was approximately five hours and twenty-seven minutes ago, experiment code T-987-J, codenamed Operation: Refrain Protocol. The objective was to gauge her response under intense foreign Reiryoku suppression, applied using Material A—codename Sister Reiryoku. Her energy output dipped to the current level, 0.0043%, down from 0.0044% for an extended period before stabilizing. Psychological response... minimal, as expected."

"Minimal?" She narrowed her eyes, scrutinizing the spirit bound before her. "Even under suppression, no significant emotional spikes?"

"Correct, ma'am. No detectable response beyond baseline."

"..."

A moment of silence hung in the air before she let out a quiet sigh, turning sharply from the observation glass.

"Maintain surveillance and compile a comprehensive diagnostic report within an hour. Notify the command center—protocol modifications will be implemented based on these findings."

She paused for a moment, casting a glance back at the restrained girl. "And prepare for another experiment in thirty-two minutes. Sir Westcott is expected to arrive in fifteen minutes to observe in person."

"YES!"

Part3:

In the back seat of a sleek black car gliding through the narrow concrete roads across the lush green fields, DEM Industry's Managing Director, Isaac Westcott, wore a satisfied smile as he examined the screen of a compact computer in his hands.

"It's not a bad development. As expected..."

"-Do you mean about Material B?"

Sitting next to him, Ellen asked while looking at the computer's screen. Westcott responded with an exaggerated nod.

"Aah. However, don't you think using her codename, Bride, is more fitting for now?"

"..."

Ellen paused, keeping her silence for a moment before continuing.

"More importantly...it seems they've once again failed to achieve any significant results in triggering Bride Inverse form."

Westcott's expression remained neutral, though a faint hint of disappointment flashed in his eyes as he took in the data.

He leaned back, an elbow propped against the car window, his hand resting beneath his chin as his gaze drifted out the window, the fields blurring past beneath the deep red hues of the sunset.

"I don't understand," Ellen continued, undeterred by his silence. "For five years, we subjected both captured subjects—Sister and Bride—to every imaginable form of mental and physical torture. And yet, neither of them inverted completely."

She leaned slightly forward. "However, according to the data from Artemisia's and Bride battle, it shows that Bride came closest to completing her transformation—even though we never directly harmed her. And yet, just as she was on the verge of fully inverting... the process inexplicably stopped."

Her voice lowered to a frustrated murmur. "And we still don't know why."

Westcott closed his eyes, as if replaying the moment in his mind—the figure he had seen through the screen that day. Even though five years had already passed since then, the memory clung to him, as clearly as if it just happened yesterday.

"Well," he said finally, opening his eyes and turning his gaze to Ellen, his hand still resting beneath his chin, "it was always a delicate process. Rushing won't yield the results we need."

Ellen's eyebrows knitted, a flicker of displeasure crossing her face, "Still, it's been months since we observed any significant emotional spikes. Her responses are diminishing. Soon, we'll lose whatever leverage we had."

Westcott's cheek relaxed, and an amused glint flickered in his eyes as he caught Ellen's rare display of irritation—almost like a child's pout.

"What is it?"

"Oh, nothing..." Westcott's lips curled into a faint, almost playful smirk. "It's just, as you said... it's been quite some time since I last heard Bride scream and beg. And Sister... she's been awfully quiet lately. It's starting to feel a bit dull around them, don't you think?"

"..."

Ellen wasn't sure if it was her imagination or not, but in that split second—when she caught that fleeting smile on Westcott's face—a chill crawled up her spine, sharp and unsettling

"...Hm?"

"Ah, nothing, sir..."

Straightening her posture, she shook the unease away. That smile had already vanished from his face, leaving only his usual calm expression. Surely, it was nothing, she told herself. Surely, it was only her imagination.

The silence between them didn't last long. A looming structure emerged in the distance.

"Hm... It seems we've reached our destination,"

"Yes..."

Ellen's gaze shifted to the window as the car slowed. A ruin came into view—a crumbling castle, clinging to the jagged edge of a cliff.

The structure, though weathered by time, exuded a quiet defiance. Its stone walls rose like the skeletal remains of a long-dead giant, bearing the weight of countless seasons. Vines crept through the cracks, weaving across the gaps as if trying to mend the scars left by time. Shadows danced across the ancient masonry, cast by the fading hues of the afternoon light.

The car followed the narrow concrete road, passing the massive entrance, its iron gates long since rusted and twisted into a permanent gape, Soon, the vehicle reached a circular stone platform, subtly out of place amidst the ruin's natural decay, marked the center of the historic site.

The car rolled to a halt, its soft engine hum dissipating into the eerie silence of the surroundings.

"Would you mind, my dear Ellen?"

"As you wish."

Ellen reached for the armrest divider, sliding it open with a faint hiss to reveal a hidden touchscreen embedded within. Her fingers brushed the screen lightly, activating the system with a soft glow.

After a few deft taps, Ellen extended her hand, palm open, and pressed it against the biometric sensor. A brief pause followed before she entered a sequence of numbers. A soft chime confirmed the input, and the screen flashed green.

A low rumble reverberated through the castle ruins. Ellen's gaze flicked outside as the circular platform beneath the car began to glow. Golden lines emerged, etching themselves into intricate patterns coiling into the unmistakable DEM Industry logo.

The platform shuddered slightly, then began its descent.

The car, now part of the stone elevator, sank into the ground. The ancient stone walls above disappeared from view, replaced by a labyrinth of concealed mechanisms. Dust drifted lightly from above, shimmering in the soft, golden glow of the etched patterns.

The air grew cooler, heavier. The dim light from above faded, replaced by the steady glow of the golden lines guiding their descent.

Eventually, the elevator slowed, its motion becoming almost imperceptible before it came to a gentle stop. The glowing patterns dimmed, leaving the underground chamber bathed in a faint blue light.

Before them, another path emerged from the shadows—a narrow corridor, its walls lined with subtle, glowing veins that pulsed rhythmically.

The vehicle adjusted its course seamlessly, gliding forward to follow the illuminated trail.

"By the way, Ellen..."

"Hm? What is it, Ike?"

As the faint blue light shifted and danced across the car's windows, Westcott's gaze drifted back to the computer on his lap. A new figure was present on the screen.

A girl with very long, dark purple hair in the same shade as the color of the night, and eyes like crystal—dark purple with a golden tint.

She was clad in a striking black, cream, and pink color scheme, with purple-and-cream plated armor adorning her shoulders and waist. Her dress, open at the back, was shaped into a corset that exposed part of her cleavage.

The skirt, a two-layered design, reached knee length with a pink-and-white gradient. Her hair was tied back with a butterfly-shaped accessory, and she wore gauntlets with petal-like cuffs, the same color as her attire, along with armored boots.

"It came to my knowledge that Princess has suddenly disappeared"

Ellen's eyes narrowed, her lips pressing into a thin line. "Yes... From the data we gathered during the AST mission against Princess, we believe she may have retreated into the Neighboring World—"

"No," Westcott interrupted smoothly, a knowing smile curling his lips as his gaze remained fixed ahead.

"She didn't just run off. The average time she spends in the Neighboring World is, what? A week at most? It's been several months now since her disappearance... That points to another possibility, am I right?"

He turned his eyes toward Ellen, The smile was yet to leave his face.

"That's...Perhaps, that's true, but..."

She lowered her gaze, as if thinking of 8 exhaling softly. Reaching for the armrest divider, she retrieved a sleek tablet.

"We've captured several images of someone we suspect may have been involved in the Princess's disappearance," she handed the tablet to Westcott.

The screen lit up, displaying a series of surveillance photos.

"He was seen with the Princess at multiple locations. She didn't seem to show any hostility toward him. All of this occurred shortly before she vanished without a trace."

The images on the tablet displayed several shots of a young man with straight blue hair that fell to his neck and amber-brown eyes. He wore a black school uniform, suggesting he was still a student—likely a high schooler.

The moment Westcott's eyes fell on the images, they suddenly widened, and the grin on his face stretched even wider as he flipped through them one by one.

"There's also a girl seen with him," Ellen added, her tone carrying a note of curiosity. "She bears a striking resemblance to Princess, though there's no sign of any Reiryoku on her body. That suggests she's just an ordinary human... hm... Ike?"

Westcott wasn't listening anymore. His attention was fully absorbed by the images, something about them, about the boy sent an unfamiliar chill through him.

"Fascinating,"

His gaze lingered on the boy in the photographs. He leaned back in his chair, tapping a finger against his chin as the gears in his mind turned.

"By any chance, that boy's name wouldn't happen to be Shinji, would it?"

"..."

Ellen blinked, momentarily thrown by the question. The name seemed to come out of nowhere, yet Westcott spoke it with such certainty. Still, she dismissed the oddity and answered without hesitation.

"No. According to the data we've gathered, his name is Itsuka Shido, a second-year student at Raizen High School in Tengu City, Japan."

"So, she was willing to go that far just for him..."

"...?"

Ellen tilted her head, confusion flickering across her face.

Westcott, however, didn't elaborate. He closed his eyes momentarily, a faint, knowing smile gracing his lips before he opened them again.

By then, the car had come to a stop. Without another word, he stepped out, his polished shoes clicking softly against the pavement.

"Itsuka Shido..." he murmured once more, the name carrying an almost reverent weight.

Ellen followed closely beside him, her curiosity growing but her professionalism kept her questions in check. Wherever they were headed, it was clear that Westcott was more animated than she'd seen him in some time.

-----------------------------------------------------------

(A/N): Chapters 16, 17, and 18 are already available on mznovels. com

The website is completely free and has no ads, so make sure to check it out!