[Paris — Haruka POV]
I noticed Kokonoe-kun slipping out.
He probably thought I was asleep, but the way he moved—too careful, too quiet—still woke me.
It felt strange.
But I didn't follow him.
Suzuka was sleeping beside me. Her forehead was damp with sweat, her brows drawn together as she whispered, "Je suis désolée," over and over in her sleep.
I reached for her hand and held it.
To calm her down.
To calm myself, too.
Whenever Suzuka was this close, my heart did these stupid little flip-flops. I loved Kokonoe-kun—of course I did—but some part of me… I think it wanted Suzuka as more than just a friend.
My feelings were confusing. Embarrassing, even.
Still, I didn't have time to think about that.
Suzuka was clearly shaken. After her awakening—after the way she'd almost torn Paris apart—it wasn't hard to guess why. Guilt clung to her like a shadow.
I wanted to pull her closer.
Tell her it wasn't her fault.
Tell her she wasn't broken or dangerous or wrong.
But the truth was…
I didn't really understand it either.
So I just held her hand tighter and stayed there, hoping that was enough.
Then the door opened.
Kokonoe-kun.
I nearly leapt out of bed on instinct, heart pounding in my chest. My pulse raced before I even knew why.
Behind him… there was someone else. Tall. Broad-shouldered. Black hair streaked with gold, a sharp goatee, and eyes that seemed to pierce straight through me. He carried an air of authority that made the room feel smaller, heavier, like gravity had shifted just to make room for him. My stomach twisted. Who was this?
I didn't know, and I didn't dare ask.
Suzuka stirred beside me, her eyes fluttering open. She blinked sleepily, her lavender hair falling across her face, and murmured, "K-Kokonoe-kun?" Her voice was hoarse, cautious.
"Good morning, girls" Kokonoe said casually, though there was a tension in his shoulders I hadn't noticed before.
Then, with the faintest bow of his head, he gestured toward the stranger behind him. "This is Azazel. The Governor General of the Grigori."
"Yo, kids", the man sweatdropped.
The name hit me like a punch. My mouth went dry. The man nodded slightly, expression unreadable, and I felt a strange shiver run down my spine. He was calm, controlled, but the sheer presence… it made me instinctively want to shrink back. Not that I could hide in the small apartment.
"Yamamoto Haruka," I said, lifting my shoulders in a small, awkward shrug, trying to keep my voice light.
Suzuka's eyes widened, her curiosity overriding the drowsiness. "Governor General…?" she whispered, sitting up straighter.
"Yes," Kokonoe said, voice steady. "He's here to… ensure things run smoothly."
His hand brushed briefly against mine as he moved past, grounding me somehow even as my mind raced.
I forced myself to sit up fully, trying not to stare too obviously at the stranger. Every detail screamed power—graceful, dangerous, intelligent—but somehow… familiar, as if he knew far more than he should.
"I… uh…" Suzuka's voice trailed off. She glanced at me, then back at Kokonoe-kun. "He… he's going to help us?"
Kokonoe-kun nodded. "Exactly. But more importantly… he's someone you'll want to listen to."
His gaze flicked to the stranger again, a subtle warning I didn't quite catch the meaning of.
The Governor General inclined his head slightly toward Suzuka, and I realized the weight of his presence wasn't just intimidation. It carried expectation, scrutiny… judgment.
And in that instant, I knew this morning wasn't going to be anything like the quiet sunrise I'd imagined.
We sat at the table. For a moment, the morning felt deceptively normal—like a quiet, casual breakfast—but the air carried an unspoken weight.
"I'm sure you all know by now," the man said, a small sweatdrop forming at his temple, though his expression was more amused than threatening, "that the… incidents caused by the three of you can no longer be ignored."
My stomach tightened. My eyes flicked to Kokonoe-kun. He didn't flinch, didn't even blink—and that only made the tension worse.
"Incidents, huh…" I let out a small, humorless chuckle, unsure of what else to say.
Suzuka stirred beside me, her eyes half-lidded, confusion and fear clouding her blue eyes.
"Figures," Kokonoe-kun muttered, his tone flat. "So… what's the poem this time? A judge's death penalty? Or an executioneer's sword?"
Azazel—he had this calm, amused aura that made my stomach twinge—chuckled. "You never change," he said lightly, like he knew Kokonoe-kun better than anyone should.
I could see Kokonoe-kun's brow furrow in confusion, and honestly… I shared it.
This stranger spoke as if he and Kokonoe-kun had some long, tangled history. And here I was, perched on the edge of the table, heart thumping, trying to make sense of the tension I didn't fully understand.
Azazel coughed softly, as if clearing his throat before listing sins.
"A reincarnated devil who shattered his own Evil Piece. One who sent shockwaves through Romania just by passing through."
His gaze shifted, slow and deliberate.
"And a human girl awakening as a Wind Spirit—losing control, spiraling through Paris."
His brows drew together, not in anger, but caution.
"To most factions, that's an anomaly. A reason to panic. Heaven would already be preparing its armies."
My stomach tightened.
"But me?" He shrugged lightly. "I'm more rational than that."
He looked at us again—really looked this time.
"Because the three of you didn't just cause destruction," he continued. "You saved people. Back in Nagano. When no one else stepped in."
The room fell quiet.
The mention of Nagano still sent shivers down my spine.
Sometimes, it crept into my dreams—
a future where Suzuka and I walked to school together, side by side. Where we spent lunch breaks laughing over nothing important. Where Kokonoe-kun came to pick us up after classes.
I could even picture us stopping by Chisato-san's workplace.
Ordinary. Peaceful.
I had been alone for so long—until I met Kokonoe-kun and Suzuka. I wished, more than anything, that I could finally enjoy their presence in my life like a normal girl.
That future felt so real when I dreamed it.
And yet… when I woke up, it felt impossibly far away.
The devils had promised to rebuild Nagano.
They said it would be restored. That things would go back to normal.
But it never happened.
Time passed, and nothing changed. The ruins stayed where they were, like an open wound no one wanted to look at.
Like no one cared enough to fix it.
And maybe… that hurt more than the destruction itself.
Azazel's voice snapped me out of my thoughts. There was a sharp glint in his eye now, the kind that made my stomach drop—like he was about to say something that couldn't be taken back.
"And above all… I know the truth about you two," he said calmly.
"I know you're reincarnates."
The room froze.
Kokonoe-kun's confused stare broke into rapid, helpless blinking, like his brain had just tripped over itself. Suzuka gasped softly, her fingers tightening in her lap.
And me?
My heartbeat detonated in my chest.
"How did you…?," I spoke before them.
The Governor General turned his attention to me.
"Haruka, I believe?"
I nodded, slow and stiff, like moving too fast might shatter something.
"When you put two and two together," he continued evenly, "it isn't difficult to see the pattern. Two Japanese teenagers shaking Romania and France—"
His gaze shifted to my friends.
"—as if they belonged there."
"At least you know I'm old enough to smoke," Kokonoe-kun muttered under his breath, earning a light chuckle from the fallen angel.
Then Kokonoe-kun met his gaze, steady and unflinching.
"So, Governor-General… if you're not here to erase us," he said calmly, "you want us to work for you?"
"Bingo."
The fallen angel clapped his hands together, far too cheerful for the weight of the conversation.
The three of us exchanged a glance—silent, stunned.
This man really was the Governor General of the Fallen Angels.
And he was smiling like this was a job interview.
"Also, call me Azazel. Or Sensei, since I'm old enough to be your teacher," he said, his tone light, almost sing-song.
"Can I call you Grandpa instead?" Kokonoe-kun asked casually.
Azazel bristled, indignation flashing across his face.
"Oi, brat. Show some respect to your elders!"
Kokonoe-kun only shrugged.
"It's not disrespect. I just… never had a grandfather. The Hungarian one died of liver failure when my mom was ten. The Romanian one died when I was two."
For a brief moment, Azazel flinched.
Then his expression shifted—recognition flickering across his features, as if he'd heard those exact words before.
"Tch. Fine," he muttered. "Have it your way."
Clearing his throat, he turned fully toward the three of us.
"I can take you under my wing," he said. "Diplomatic protection from every major faction. Kokonoe can return to Kuoh Academy without the Devils breathing down his neck. And you girls—" his gaze softened slightly, "—you can go back to Nagano. The Grigori will rebuild it faster than any Devil ever would."
My heart burst out of my chest.
Nagano. Rebuilt. Safe.
"But in return… I need one thing. Two things, actually."
He paused.
The room went silent. My breath caught in my throat. Suzuka's fingers tightened around mine.
Azazel's gaze swept over us, eyes glinting with curiosity.
"First of all, I would like to inspect Kokonoe and Suzuka's Sacred Gears," he said.
"The Freezing Archaeopteryx shouldn't be able to produce missiles, and Amatsukaze no Nayami isn't a Sacred Gear we've heard of."
I raised a brow.
"So… you're essentially asking them to be your test subjects?" I pressed, my heart thudding in my chest.
"Not quite," he said, voice calm but unnerving. "Just… a bit of research."
We all froze, dumbfounded, as the Governor General cleared his throat, as if expecting no one to question him.
"And the second? It's personal," Azazel continued. "For all of you."
Another pause—deliberate, cruel.
"Destroy the Oblivion Syndicate. I'll provide intelligence, routes, logistics, weapons—everything you need."
The world felt like it stopped.
Kokonoe-kun stood so suddenly his chair scraped against the floor. His eyes burned—hatred and resolve twisted together.
He extended his hand.
Azazel grinned as he took it.
"Deal," Kokonoe-kun said, his voice like ice.
I understood what that meant immediately.
The Oblivion Syndicate had already marked us—both of us—as targets. They'd decided we were problems that needed to disappear.
But now…
It wasn't just about surviving anymore.
It was about who would be erased first.
And in that small Paris flat, beneath flickering lights and shattered certainties, a dangerous alliance was born.
______
[Nagano — Xenovia POV]
Nagano was a city reduced to ruins. Construction blocks and scaffolding were scattered throughout its damaged districts, evidence of an ongoing attempt to rebuild after its destruction.
The Church had sent Irina and me to eliminate the Oblivion Syndicate. According to the elders, the organization was composed of Satanists and was working alongside stray exorcists and Fallen Angels.
Our deployment followed the theft of the Excaliburs. Intelligence suggested the Syndicate was either directly involved—or taking advantage of the chaos left in their wake.
Most of them were reincarnated devils. That meant stealing the Excaliburs directly was impossible. Devils couldn't enter a Church… unless they had human agents inside.
Irina stared out at the devastation, her expression tightening.
"This is awful," she said quietly. "How could anyone let it get this bad?"
"Reports say they operated like a human militia," I replied. "Lunetists, tanks, armored vehicles—modern weaponry. It's unusual."
Unusual—but it explained the scale of the destruction. Still, as I took in the ruined cityscape, another thought surfaced.
"With devil magic, the city could've been rebuilt already," I said. "So why hasn't anyone bothered?"
Irina furrowed her brows in a flash of childish indignation.
"Why would devils care about human settlements?" she asked sharply.
…Fair point.
Reports also mentioned a reincarnated devil—Kokonoe Takashi—and three girls who had fought alongside him, resisting the siege when the city should have fallen.
One of the girls belonged to Rias Gremory's peerage, just like Kokonoe himself.
The other two, however, were outliers—a yuki-onna and a human girl. Companions, perhaps. Or liabilities.
Four fighters acting independently, without command structure or authorization, in the middle of a siege?
That wasn't bravery.
It was recklessness—disguised as heroics.
And recklessness always hid something.
The road to Kuoh was uneventful. Irina filled the silence by rambling about how excited she was to reunite with her childhood friend.
I couldn't even remember his name.
"Oh, I wonder if he'll remember me...," she said, a bit dreamy. "I used to look very boyish back then!"
She chuckled.
"Kind of like you, hehe~."
"…Focus on the mission," I said.
I don't look that boyish. And you're lucky I didn't kick your teeth in for saying it.
Damn it.
"I doubt we'll find any trace of them here, of all places," Irina said with a chuckle, shaking her head.
Our stomachs grumbled in sync.
"Besides," she added, grinning, "we should probably grab something to eat before we starve."
Irritation surged through me. How could she be so carefree, even in a situation like this?
"Well, we have no money. So… what do you suggest?" I asked, tone flat.
She grinned, like she was about to offer the most obvious solution.
"I told you—my childhood friend's in Kuoh, right? We'll be there in no time, you'll see!"
Yeah, you've mentioned that a million times already.
I just wanted to get there already.
"It's gonna be bonkers!" she said brightly, slipping into that ridiculous British accent that always grated on my nerves.
Yeah. Whatever.
Like that accent somehow makes your nonsense more interesting. It doesn't.
I didn't bother responding. I just adjusted my grip on Durandal and kept walking.
I was tired. Hungry. Done pretending to care.
Food first. Sleep after. Everything else could wait.
_______________
Deep below the ruins of Nagano, in the dimly lit heart of the Oblivion Syndicate's headquarters, rows of operatives hunched over monitors and reports. The hum of machinery and distant rumble of the damaged city above set a low, tense rhythm.
On the largest screen at the front, Kokabiel's image flickered into view. His sharp features were illuminated in pale, unnatural light, his eyes glinting with amusement.
"The Church sent only two?" he asked, voice calm but edged with dark humor. A low chuckle followed.
"Yes… Master Kokabiel," said the division leader, a hooded figure with red robes, voice tight. "The exorcists dispatched to retrieve the Excaliburs… They—"
"You're to handle it yourselves," Kokabiel finished, a grin curling at the corners of his mouth. "I steal their Excaliburs, and they send two schoolgirls?"
He chuckled darkly. "Honestly, I would prefer sending you lot. You've had plenty of practice getting defeated by teenagers."
The leader's expression shifted, but he said nothing. Ever since the intel leaked that the Old Maou Faction planned genocide in the name of pure-blood supremacy, their allegiance had shifted to the Grigori rebels under Kokabiel.
That shift gave them the freedom to continue operations… and to finally eliminate Kokonoe and his companions once and for all.
A ripple of unease passed through the room, but the operatives remained silent.
Kokabiel leaned slightly closer to the screen, his expression unreadable, eyes sharp. "I want reports on every move they make. Every step. And when they make it to Kuoh... attack the city. Just like you did with Nagano."
The screen blinked off, leaving the headquarters bathed in the steady hum of surveillance equipment.
Outside, Nagano's shattered skyline loomed, but deep beneath it, one thing was clear: the Syndicate had its orders, and the game had just begun.