Azazel examined the battlefield like it was a report laid out on his desk, thoughtful, almost impressed.
Around him, tension snapped tight.
The Church girls raised their Excalibur fragments instinctively. Akeno's eyes sharpened, lightning humming at her fingertips. Hyoudou stared for half a second—then pointed.
"Y-you're that client! The one who tried to give me whiskey!" he blurted.
Client.
So Azazel approached the Red Dragon Emperor like some businessman arranging a contract. Like devils were freelancers and he was shopping around. And his opening move was alcohol.
Hyoudou looked personally betrayed.
Not that I cared about the whiskey part.
Back in Romania, underage drinking was practically a seasonal sport. No one blinked.
Still.
The first thing Azazel ever said to me wasn't about power. Or strategy. Or the war.
It was: "Aren't you a bit young to be smoking weed?"
I exhaled slowly through my nose.
Priorities.
Dude runs the Grigori and that's his icebreaker.
Like, damn.
Azazel ignored Hyoudou's outrage completely and stepped closer, tapping my shoulder with two fingers.
"Not bad, kid. You're finally thinking like a leader."
"I try," I said, scratching the back of my neck.
"Turns out not dying improves strategic thinking."
He smirked faintly, like that answer confirmed something.
"And look who finally decided to show up," Haruka cut in, planting her hands on her hips. "Governor General-sama graces us with his presence after the fireworks are over."
"Watch it, brat," Azazel shot back instantly. "I've got paperwork stacked higher than your ego."
"Excuse me? We were out here saving this city," she countered without missing a beat.
"Haruka-chan…" Suzuka gently cupped Haruka's cheek, as if calming an overexcited child.
Her tone was soft, almost apologetic. "Please."
Haruka huffed, but stayed silent.
Azazel ignored the exchange and turned toward Hyoudou instead.
"Yo, Issei. Allow me to introduce myself again. I'm Azazel, the Governor General of the Fallen Angels."
Silence.
Then shock detonated across the field.
The Church girls stiffened. Sona's glasses glinted sharply. Akeno's aura flared. Even Kiba's posture shifted, ready.
Everyone except me, Suzuka, and Haruka.
We already knew exactly what kind of man he was.
And titles didn't make him any less annoying.
"Y'all should relax a little," I said, flicking my lighter and firing the cigarette to life just to make the point clearer.
"Grandpa may look scary," I went on, nodding toward Azazel, "but he's really more like an irresponsible adult with too much funding and no supervision."
Azazel's eye twitched.
"Oi, brat," he scoffed, folding his wings slightly. "I could still erase you with one finger."
Meanwhile, nobody seemed particularly worried about Azazel threatening to erase me from existence.
They were worried about the cigarette.
"Kokonoe-kun," Sona said flatly, "put that out."
I exhaled a slow stream of smoke instead.
"Sorry. I'm kind of tired of pretending I'm scandalized just because 'this is Japan.'" I flicked ash to the side.
"In Romania, I was 15 buying cigarettes by the piece because it was cheaper that way. I got drunk and slept in a church courtyard once."
Hyoudou blinked. "Y-You what?"
"And here you are," I added dryly, glancing at him, "acting like Azazel offering you whiskey was a war crime."
"It is when you're in high school!" he shot back.
Azazel barked out a laugh. "See? Cultural exchange program. I'm broadening horizons."
Xenovia and Irina slowly turned toward me like I just confessed to burning down the Vatican.
The blue-haired girl spoke first, voice rigid with disbelief.
"You… slept drunk. In a church courtyard."
Irina gasped, hands flying to her chest. "With alcohol? In a church?!" Her eyes shimmered like I'd personally offended Heaven. "That's— that's double sinful!"
"It was mostly cheap wine," I said, deadpan. "And the courtyard had great acoustics."
The image flashed before my eyes: Roxana and me, laughing like two emo idiots, drinking beer in a graveyard. Then her, later, hooking up with my friend.
I groaned.
Arssura was right.
Xenovia stared at me, jaw tight. "You are aware that holy ground is meant for prayer and reflection."
"It was reflection," I replied calmly. "Just horizontal."
Azazel nearly choked laughing.
Sona closed her eyes. "Why am I surrounded by children?"
Haruka leaned toward Suzuka and stage-whispered, "He's trying to get excommunicated from multiple religions at once."
Suzuka covered her mouth, mortified but trying not to smile. "Kokonoe-kun…"
I shrugged lightly. "Relax. I survived the Romanian Orthodox Church. I can survive anything."
Xenovia looked like she wasn't sure whether to lecture me or challenge me to a duel.
Irina, meanwhile, clasped her hands together. "I will pray for your soul."
"Fuck my soul. And fuck the Watcher" I said, as if raging against the machine would make it better.
"Like all I ever wanted after Dia left was to die and when I finally did, motherfucker drops me into another world. Give me a break," I muttered.
I could see the flash of hurt in Suzuka's eyes. Sorry… it's not like I didn't want to reincarnate with you. It's just… trauma…
Everyone else was watching me fall apart like it was a show. Eyes sympathetic. Even from Irina, who sounded like she was just about to lecture me on Lord's mercy.
Then, Azazel dropped the bomb.
"The Watcher," Azazel said, his voice calm but carrying weight, "as you call him… is no more."
The shock hit them all at once.
I laughed like a madman. "Fuck… of course Nietzsche was right. If God were alive… I'd already be burning in hell."
Hyoudou let out a loud, confused, "Wait, WHAT?! God's dead?!"
But it was Asia and the church girls who felt it deepest, their expressions frozen in disbelief.
Asia froze first.
Her hands flew to the cross at her neck, clutching it like it might disappear. Her eyes widened—glassy, trembling—before the tears spilled over.
"L-Lord…?"
A whisper. A fracture.
Her knees buckled as she got zapped for saying a holy word.
Hyoudou barely caught her in time.
"No… He can't… He can't be…"
The rest dissolved into broken prayers against his chest.
Irina's gasp came sharp and panicked.
"That's impossible! The Lord is eternal! He—"
She stopped.
Azazel didn't take it back.
Her face crumpled. She gripped her necklace so hard the chain bit into her palm.
"Father… please…"
Not a prayer.
A plea.
Xenovia didn't cry. Didn't gasp. Didn't move.
She just stared at Durandal—at the blade that had always answered her.
"If God is dead…"
Her voice was low. Steady. Controlled.
"…then what have I been fighting for?"
Her knuckles whitened around the hilt.
Not shaking.
Just betrayed.
Azazel didn't flinch at the fallout. He just adjusted his coat like he'd announced the weather.
"You all know the original Two Maou kicked the bucket in the Great War, right?" he said casually. "Yeah. Same war. Same mess. God went down too."
Silence.
"Michael's been sitting on that little detail for centuries. Stability, faith, morale—pick your reason." He shrugged. "But if we're serious about peace? Real peace? Then we stop playing holy PR."
His golden eyes swept over devils, exorcists, dragons alike.
"At least among our supernatural allies, we go clean. No more bedtime stories."
The air changed.
Just enough.
A boy stepped out from the edge of the clearing — white hair, black Devil wings folded behind him. About Hyoudou's age.
But where Hyoudou looked ready to panic, this guy looked like he'd already been through worse and come out colder.
Then I felt it.
A pulse.
Dragon.
His aura wasn't wild like Ddraig's. It was tight. White.
Hyoudou's Boosted Gear reacted right away.
White dragon aura. Sacred Gear match. That calm, dangerous stillness.
The White Dragon Emperor.
He flicked his wrist.
Three Excalibur fragments clattered across the pavement, skidding to a stop at Xenovia and Irina's feet.
He discarded them like scraps.
Then he looked past them, straight at Azazel.
"I failed to secure Kokabiel," he said evenly. "LaVey was with him. The Holy Nail nullifies Divine Dividing."
His wings shifted once behind him — controlled irritation, nothing more.
Azazel clicked his tongue.
"Tch. I'd love to pat you on the head and say 'good job, Vali,' but I'm not in the mood."
He scratched the back of his neck, exhaling through his teeth. "If Kokabiel's still breathing and LaVey's backing him, that's not just a rogue idiot anymore."
His golden eyes sharpened.
"That's a faction."
He looked up at the sky like he could already see the paperwork forming.
"And if a chunk of Grigori starts rallying behind them… we're not talking about cleanup."
A pause.
"We're talking civil war."
Azazel's gaze shifted to me.
"That's why I brought you three in," he said evenly. "You've got motive. And you've got the power. Oblivion doesn't fall unless someone capable decides it does."
A brief pause.
His eyes flicked sideways.
"Vali. Now."
Not a request. An order.
White wings snapped open.
Vali dropped like silver lightning, landing without a sound.
He looked at me.
His hand rose.
"Divide."
Silver light crashed over me.
For a split second, I felt it — pressure trying to split something fundamental in half.
Then it failed.
My aura didn't dip. My balance didn't shift.
The light fractured and dissolved like it hit something it couldn't process.
Vali's eyes sharpened.
"…Interesting."
He moved instantly.
"Reflect."
A white barrier snapped into existence in front of him — angled, polished, absolute.
The air warped.
I reacted on instinct.
"Nelu."
The ice bird shrieked. The Freezing Archaeopteryx burst into form behind me as I unleashed Iskanders in rapid succession — not a wave. A barrage. Layered, overlapping, relentless.
The first missiles struck Reflect.
The barrier flared.
The second volley hit before the first finished detonating.
Cracks spiderwebbed across the white surface.
Vali's brow twitched.
The third volley screamed in.
Reflect shattered.
The remaining Iskanders punched through.
Vali twisted midair, halving two with a reflexive "Divide"—
—but one scraped across his ribs.
A thin red line opened beneath torn fabric. Frost crawled over black feathers before melting off in steam.
Silence.
He hovered there, touching the shallow cut like he couldn't quite believe it existed.
"…You broke Reflect," he said, almost to himself.
I exhaled smoke.
"Missile spam," I replied. "Works wonders."
His eyes met mine again.
Not bored anymore.
Evaluating.
"Not bad," he said. "But you're still not Red."
White wings snapped shut.
He launched skyward and vanished into the smoke.
Azazel chuckled behind me.
"Yeah," he muttered. "You're going to be a problem."
I clenched my teeth. "What the fuck, Governor?"
He didn't flinch. "Vali's Divine Dividing didn't work on you. Which means one thing. Reincarnates carry immunity. A different soul origin. You and Suzuka could be immune to LaVey's Holy Nail."
"You sent him at me—without even a warning?!," I barked.
Azazel leaned back, grin sharp and casual. "Warning? Where's the fun in that? I'm not raising your hand, kid. I'm seeing what you've got."
I balled my fists. "You could've killed me."
"Could have. But didn't." His grin widened. "And now? Now we know. You're stronger than even I suspected. That's priceless information."
I glared. "Priceless to you. To me, that's reckless idiocy."
"Anyway," Azazel said, voice smooth as smoke. "You're our only hope."
I blinked. Hope. If all you do is ask… then I want something back. Romania. I can make it better.
I shrugged, letting the words pass unspoken. "Yeah. I see your point."
Vali's wings shifted. His gaze cut to Hyoudou.
"You," he said flat, bored. "The Red Dragon Emperor."
"Yeah. That's me," Hyoudou said, squared up, Boosted Gear humming.
Vali didn't move. Didn't need to. The air thickened anyway — two opposing auras brushing edges.
"You're weak. Grow stronger."
Ddraig rumbled inside the gauntlet. [Partner… Albion.]
Albion's voice, cold, amused. [This is the Red. Still… unrefined.]
Vali's lips curved — not a smile. "Unrefined? That's generous."
"Hey — I'm right here!" Hyoudou snapped.
Vali's eyes sharpened. "You're loud and reckless. Your power spikes and crashes like a tantrum. And yet… it's there. Annoyingly persistent."
Ddraig grumbled. [Taunting you, partner. Don't bite.]
"Too late," Hyoudou muttered.
Vali's eyes narrowed. "Can you feel it? The pull of the old grudge. Red and White. The cycle never stops."
Ddraig: [It's etched into us. But you're not him yet.]
Albion: [And never will be. Not if you fight like a human.]
"I'm not fighting like a human," Hyoudou said. "I'm fighting like me."
Vali paused, then laughed short, quiet. "Bold words for someone who almost died today. But… maybe you'll survive long enough to make them true."
A glance at Azazel. Then white light flared. He vanished.
Hyoudou exhaled shakily.
Ddraig murmured. [He's stronger. But he's waiting. Wants you to catch up.]
Hyoudou's eyes stayed on the empty courtyard. "…Then I'd better hurry."
Smoke, frost, and the faint echo of wings lingered.
And just like that, Vali was gone — but not before casting me one last, unreadable glance.
The courtyard fell quiet again.
Only frost cracking on the pavement, the low hiss of dying fires, and everyone's breathing trying to normalize.
Then the air turned red.
A crimson teleport circle opened right where Vali's been standing.
Gremory sigil.
Rias stepped out alone.
"Buchou!" Hyoudou ran toward her.
"Buchou-san!" Asia hurried after him
Akeno, Kiba, and Koneko followed close behind.
And, once again, she's late. In her own territory.
She looked tired. Dark red Underworld dress, high collar, flared sleeves. Hair a little messy from travel or stress. Eyes worn out, but still sharp.
She took one step forward and stopped.
Her gaze moved past her peerage. It landed straight on me.
Rias's mouth opened, then closed.
"Kokonoe…?"
Her voice cracked — just once, on the second syllable.
I met her eyes.
"Hey, Prez. Long time, no see."
She took another step.
Then stopped, as if the ground itself had shifted beneath her.
"We thought—"
Her throat worked.
"The reports said you—"
I cut in, flatly. A quick recap.
"The Evil Piece broke after my fight with Riser. I almost died. Suzuka healed me."
Then I met her gaze.
"I'm not your Rook anymore."
The words hit like a bomb.
Rias felt it. Her Rook Piece back in her hand, but me—standing right here.
She froze, eyes wide. Shock. Guilt. Something softer beneath it all—respect, maybe, or relief she couldn't name.
I didn't flinch.
"We're equals now," I said. "That's how this works."
Silence stretched—thin, fragile.
Akeno's lightning dimmed slightly.
Issei shifted awkwardly.
Asia's eyes shimmered.
Rias exhaled, quiet this time.
"I see."
She looked at me again, really looked—like she was seeing the one who'd survived Vali Lucifer and a siege without her.
"Then let's talk as equals."
I coughed lightly.
"I figure you've got people to catch up with first. They've been missing you, y'know."
Rias turned to Hyoudou first, her gaze softening like she'd just been reunited with the person she cared for most. Every step she took toward him was measured, almost hesitant, but full of something she couldn't hide.
"Ise!" she breathed, wrapping her arms around him.
"I missed you too, Buchou," he said, grinning like a fool, relief and joy written across his face.
Akeno, Kiba, and Asia stayed close, forming a protective circle around her. They were alert, but their focus was on her relief at seeing Hyoudou safe.
Irina and Xenovia moved with precision, shattering the Excalibur fragments as promised to Kiba. Their faces were calm, but their eyes were hollow, distant.
In the distance, Saji, Tsubaki, and Sona vanished, each returning to their own paths after the chaos.
Sona lingered for just a heartbeat, her sharp gaze meeting mine. No words, no gesture—just acknowledgement. Then she turned and left.
Suzuka and Haruka slid into place at my side. Haruka's energy was still bright, Suzuka calm and steady. Together, they grounded me, a quiet reminder that not everything was lost.
"Been a crazy day!" Haruka yawned, her grin still wide.
"Yeah… you can say that again," I muttered, collapsing to my knees, mana nearly spent.
"Kokonoe-kun!" they both breathed.
Suzuka's Amatsukaze no Nayami flared, the healing wind brushing over me, steadying me.
"Sorry… missile spam eats up a lotta mana," I said with a weak chuckle.
I looked at them fondly.
"Tomorrow, you two are going back to Nagano. There were times when I thought you were a pain in the ass, but… I loved it. I'll miss you," I said, honest.
Haruka scoffed, rolling her eyes, though her grin betrayed her. "Don't make it so dramatic, it's not like we're disappearing forever."
Suzuka smiled softly, tilting her head. "We'll come back soon… and we'll always be here, Kokonoe-kun." Her hand lightly brushed mine, a quiet reassurance.
Haruka leaned closer, nudging me playfully. "Yeah, yeah. You're stuck with us, whether you like it or not."
I smiled. Simple. Genuine.
Then, Azazel glanced at me one last time, wings stretching against the smoke.
"Kid," he said, voice low, amused, "don't screw this up. I'll see you at the peace conference… Three Factions exclusive. Try not to get yourself erased before then."
He gave a faint smirk, then vanished into the sky. Tch. Irresponsible ass governor.
Whatever.
As I knelt on the pavement, eyes on the night sky, Haruka and Suzuka at my side, quieter thoughts took over.
Kuoh's still standing.
Nagano's rebuilt.
I finally get some fucking breathing room.
____
(Suzuka POV)
It was the first night I slept at home again. In Nagano. In this house, with the parents this world gave me.
My old room was exactly as I left it—neat curtains, the faint scent of detergent, the May morning sun burning through the window. Safe. Familiar. Seventeen.
And yet… I missed Kuoh. The soft morning light slipping through unfamiliar windows.
Kokonoe-kun already awake, pretending he hadn't been thinking all night.
Haruka-chan bouncing into the kitchen with too much energy for sunrise.
Chisato-san teasing Kokonoe-kun until even he couldn't hide his embarrassment.
I pressed a hand to my chest. I was 23 in memory, lived another life, loved another city.
And yet here I was—school uniform hanging by the door, textbooks stacked neatly on my desk.
Seventeen.
I brushed my hair carefully, a quiet ritual, a little makeup—light, subtle. Just enough to feel like myself. Then I went downstairs.
The smell of coffee hit me first—warm, familiar, comforting.
Mom stood at the stove, pouring two cups. Dad sat at the table, newspaper low on his nose.
"Good morning, Mom, Dad."
They looked up at the same time. "Good morning, Suzuka," they replied warmly, like nothing had changed.
For a moment, I just watched them. In another life, I had lost everything. In this one… I had parents who worried if I skipped breakfast.
I smiled softly and took my seat. Mom slid a cup toward me. "Careful, it's hot."
"Thank you," I said, wrapping my hands around it.
Dad folded his newspaper slowly, studying me over the rim of his glasses. "So," he began, casual but not casual at all, "you were staying at that boy's house for quite some time."
I nearly choked on my sip. "Y-Yes."
"Kokonoe, was it?" he continued. "He behaved like a gentleman, I hope."
"Dear," Mom cut in immediately, shooting him a look.
"What?" Dad protested. "It's a normal question."
"It's not normal to interrogate your daughter first thing in the morning."
"I'm not interrogating," he said. "Just making sure he understands basic manners."
I stared down at my coffee, cheeks warming. "He… was very respectful. Always."
Dad hummed, unconvinced. "Respectful how?"
"Honey," Mom said sharply, "Suzuka has good judgment. Chisato-san told me enough to know he's serious and responsible."
Dad grumbled. "Serious boys can still be idiots."
I smiled softly. "He wasn't. He made sure I was comfortable. Gave me space when I needed it… stayed when I didn't."
The kitchen went quiet. Mom softened. "See?"
Dad looked thoughtful. "Hm. So he took care of you."
I nodded. "We took care of each other."
He seemed satisfied. "Well," he muttered, reaching for his cup, "if he ever forgets his manners, he can explain himself to me."
Mom sighed. "Ignore him."
I smiled faintly. "I don't mind."
And I meant it.
The doorbell rang before I could finish my coffee.
Mom blinked. "Were you expecting someone?"
I didn't have time to answer.
The front door flew open.
"Good morning, Suzukaaa!~"
Haruka-chan burst in like a gust of summer wind, backpack slung over one shoulder, shoes half-kicked off mid-step. She radiated motion — bouncing, grinning, alive.
Just like in Kuoh.
Just like in that house.
My heart gave a small, traitorous leap.
She spotted my parents instantly and straightened — not calmer, just… theatrically composed.
"I'm Yamamoto Haruka!" she declared brightly. "Suzuka's friend. It's nice to meet you, Midorikawa-mama. Midorikawa-papa."
Mom blinked once.
Dad lowered his newspaper again.
"…She's energetic," he observed.
"Thank you!" Haruka replied proudly, as if it were a compliment.
I pressed my fingers to my cup to hide my smile.
"Haruka-chan," I said softly, "you could have knocked."
"I did knock. With the doorbell." She winked at me.
Dad studied her with cautious curiosity. "You're the one who was staying in Kuoh too?"
"Yes, sir!" she chirped. "We survived together! Ten out of ten bonding experience. Would almost recommend."
"Haruka-chan…" I murmured, embarrassed.
Mom covered a small laugh with her hand. "It's nice to meet you, Haruka-chan."
Haruka beamed at her like she'd just won something.
"Don't worry," she added, glancing between my parents conspiratorially. "We kept an eye on your daughter."
She leaned toward me and stage-whispered, "Mostly me."
I nudged her lightly. "That's not true."
"It absolutely is."
Dad looked between us, then exhaled slowly. "…I see."
And somehow, despite the noise she brought with her, the house didn't feel disrupted.
It felt warmer.
Haruka-chan's energy filled the quiet corners of the house the way sunlight fills a room — loud, impossible to ignore.
"I've been waiting to walk to school with my friend… Now let's go!" she announced, already halfway back toward the door.
"Haruka-chan," I said, unable to stop a small giggle. "Slow down a little… I'm still eating."
She paused, looked at my toast, then at me, dramatically betrayed.
"You're choosing bread over me?"
"I'm choosing breakfast," I corrected gently.
Mom stepped in smoothly, her smile warm and effortless.
"Haruka-chan… Suzuka is still eating. Why don't you join us? I always cook too much anyway."
Haruka blinked — surprised for half a second — then flashed one of her fearless grins.
"Sure! Thanks, Midorikawa-mama."
She slid into the chair beside me like she'd always belonged there.
Dad folded his newspaper again. "You're very comfortable."
"Life's easier that way, sir," she replied cheerfully. "Also, I skipped breakfast on purpose. I had a feeling."
"You did not," I murmured.
She leaned closer. "Okay, I didn't. But this is destiny."
Mom laughed softly as she set another plate down. "You're welcome here anytime."
Haruka straightened proudly. "See, Suzuka? I'm already part of the family."
My cheeks warmed.
"Haruka-chan…"
She bumped her shoulder lightly against mine under the table.
And for the first time since coming back to Nagano, the house felt just a little less quiet.
We stepped out together into the morning light.
Nagano felt different.
Not unfamiliar — never that — but newly stitched together. Storefront windows had been replaced. Scaffolding still clung to a few buildings. Pavement patches were darker where the streets were repaired.
If you didn't know what happened, you might think it was just routine construction.
But we knew.
We watched parts of this city break.
And now we were walking through the aftermath like ordinary girls again.
I couldn't help but smile.
We had both grown up on these streets. The same crosswalks. The same vending machines. The same winter air that always felt sharper than anywhere else.
"…It's strange," I admitted quietly. "Being back after everything."
"Yeah," Haruka said, surprisingly calm. "We leave for a few weeks and somehow come back veterans."
Her tone was light, but there was weight underneath.
A passing truck rumbled by. For half a second, my shoulders tensed on instinct.
Haruka noticed.
She didn't tease me this time.
"The Grigori did rebuild it fast," she said instead.
I let out a soft breath. "Mmm."
We turned the corner toward the main road leading to school. A few familiar faces passed us, waving casually. None of them knew we stood on rooftops not long ago.
Haruka bumped her shoulder lightly into mine.
"You're thinking too much."
"I always think too much."
"True."
She stretched her arms above her head, grin returning.
"But hey. We're back. City's standing. Parents aren't suspicious. And Kokonoe-kun didn't blow up half of Honshu while we were gone."
"…That's a low bar," I said softly.
She laughed.
The school gates came into view — exactly where they had always been.
For a moment, I felt the strange overlap of two lives.
Seventeen-year-old Midorikawa Suzuka, walking to class in Nagano.
And the woman I had been — twenty-three, studying in Paris.
Haruka nudged me again.
"Hey. Don't get all distant on me. We fought for this place, remember? We get to walk through it like normal students now. That's the reward."
I looked at the repaired buildings. The mountains beyond them. The schoolyard ahead.
"…You're right."
She grinned, bold as ever.
"Of course I am! Now come on. Let's see how long it takes before someone asks why we disappeared for weeks!~"
I smiled softly and followed her through the gates.
Home was still here.
And so were we.