Machine Made God

Chapter 1

The Ducati Panigale V4 roared through the winding mountain roads of Kouh, its powerful engine echoing off the sheer cliffs and dense forests. The bike cut through the sharp corners with precision, the rider leaning into each turn with the confidence of someone who knew the road intimately. Every twist, every hairpin, was a challenge, but none could hold him back. The rider was in his element, the thrill of the ride sending waves of exhilaration through his veins. It was pure, unfiltered joy, the kind that made him feel truly alive.

As he neared the peak of the mountain, the final corner lay ahead, but something unexpected appeared-a car, moving at a brisk pace, blocking his path. Without a second thought, the rider decided to overtake, pushing the Ducati into the oncoming lane. The bike responded instantly, the engine roaring louder as it surged forward. But just as he began to pass, a truck appeared, its massive form barreling down the narrow lane. The truck driver, shocked by the sudden appearance of the bike, slammed on the brakes, causing the massive vehicle to lurch and skid.

Reacting instinctively, the rider downshifted, the Ducati's rear tire slipping and screeching as it struggled to regain traction. The bike bucked beneath him, the sudden shift causing the rear to slide dangerously close to the edge of control. He fought for balance, his muscles tensing as he battled the powerful machine. The truck's horn blared, a furious blast that reverberated through the mountain pass, causing the car's driver to panic and stomp on the brakes, tires screeching in protest.

Time seemed to slow as both the car and truck ground to a halt, leaving just enough space for the rider to act. The Ducati finally found its grip, the tires biting into the asphalt as the bike straightened out. Adrenaline surged through the rider, his heart pounding as he twisted the throttle, a wide grin spreading across his face. In that split second, he saw his chance-a narrow gap between the car and the truck. With every ounce of skill and power, he gunned the bike forward, slipping through the tiny space with millimeters to spare.

"Wake up, Oni-Chan! Wake up, Oni-Chan!" The shrill alarm shattered the intense memory, yanking Issei Hyoudou from the remnants of his adrenaline-fueled dream. He blinked awake, the rush of the ride still coursing through him, leaving a lingering smile on his face. The thrill of the dream was unlike anything he'd ever experienced, a pure shot of excitement that made him feel invincible.

As he makes his way to the bathroom his twin sister, Izumi Hyoudou, saw him, catching a glimpse of his grin. She instantly jumped to conclusions, her face twisting in disgust. "Pervert," she muttered, her tone dripping with disdain as she assumed her brother was lost in his usual indecent thoughts.

Issei shrugged off the insult, well aware of the reputation he had at Kuoh Academy. He was the notorious pervert, the one who peeped at the Kendo Club girls, the one everyone whispered about. But this morning, none of that mattered. Although he was a pervert, he was slowly changing, the perverseness leaving him, replaced by a craving for speed and the adrenaline rush that came with it. The thrill of riding had begun to overshadow his old habits, steering him towards something new, something that made him feel truly alive.

As he finished getting ready, Issei's thoughts drifted to how he'd even acquired the bike. It all started a year ago when he was desperately searching for a part-time job to fuel his porn addiction. In Japan, opportunities weren't plentiful, and the only job he could find was an apprenticeship at a local mechanic shop. The pay was almost non-existent, just enough to keep his addiction alive. But surprisingly, despite his reputation, they accepted him. It was a shock-no other place in Kuoh would even consider hiring him.

At that shop, Issei met his master, Tadayuki Okada. At the time, Issei had no idea that Okada was a legend among Japanese riders, a name whispered with respect in the world of motorcycling. Okada saw something in Issei, something others had overlooked. He gave Issei a chance, taking him under his wing and teaching him everything about bikes-how to work on them, how to maintain them, how to make them sing on the open road.

Issei was like a sponge, soaking up every bit of knowledge Okada offered. His ability to learn at such a rapid pace astonished the old master. "He's a genius," Okada often thought, watching Issei as he worked with a focus and skill that belied his years. What took others years to master, Issei grasped in mere months. He mastered the art of mechanics for both motorcycles and cars, a feat that would normally take years of diligent study and practice.

Yet despite his growing skills, Issei begged Okada not to tell anyone about his apprenticeship. He feared that if word got out, people would avoid Okada's shop simply because of Issei's tarnished reputation. The last thing Issei wanted was to cause trouble for the one person who had given him a chance.

Issei snapped out of his reverie, now fully dressed in his Kuoh Academy uniform. He headed downstairs and took his seat at the dining table. His parents, unaware of his late-night activities, eyed him with curiosity. "Why were you so late last night?" his mother asked, her tone laced with concern.

"I was with Matsuda and Motohama," Issei lied smoothly, trying to keep his voice casual. But his answer only deepened the frown on his parents' faces. They knew all too well that his two closest friends were just as perverted as he used to be. What they didn't know was that Issei rarely hung out with them after school anymore. The truth was, his passion for riding had slowly begun to replace those old habits, but he wasn't ready to share that with them just yet.

Issei left the house and began his usual walk to Kuoh Academy, the early morning air still crisp against his skin. As he approached the school, the towering gates of Kuoh loomed ahead, a familiar sight that marked the beginning of another day. Standing at the entrance were the ever-watchful members of the student council: Sona Shitori, the stern and composed student council president, Tsubaki Shinra, the elegant vice president, and Saji Genshirou, the treasurer who was practically glowing with his unspoken affection for Sona.

"You're cutting it close, Hyoudou," Sona remarked as Issei approached, her sharp eyes catching his just before the gates were about to close. Her tone was as authoritative as ever, a reminder of the strict order she maintained at the academy.

Issei merely waved them off with a casual flick of his hand, not breaking stride as he continued toward his classroom. Sona's eyebrow twitched slightly at the dismissive gesture, but before she could say anything, Saji bristled at the perceived disrespect.

"Oi, Hyoudou! Don't disrespect the pres like that!" Saji shouted, his voice laced with indignation. Issei paused for a moment, casting a glance over his shoulder, his eyes briefly meeting Saji's with a look that was more dismissive than anything, as if judging the boy's outburst before turning back and heading to class without a word.

The morning classes passed in a blur, and soon it was lunch break. Matsuda and Motohama, Issei's friends and partners in perversion, approached him with their usual proposition. "Wanna join us in peeping at the Kendo Club?" Matsuda asked, a mischievous grin spreading across his face.

Issei shook his head, declining the invitation without hesitation. The response was so out of character that it stunned the pair. Matsuda, not one to let such a change go unnoticed, grabbed Issei by the collar. "Who are you, and what have you done to Issei?" both Matsuda and Motohama shouted in unison, their voices filled with a mix of confusion and mock outrage.

Issei simply sighed, brushing off their hold, a hint of amusement in his eyes as he realized just how much he had begun to change.