Two weeks felt like two years.
The classroom hummed with ordinary noise - gossip, shuffling papers, the scratching of pencils. Morning light streamed through windows that had been repaired after the last stray devil had crashed through them. Normal. Peaceful. Boring.
I sat in my usual seat, watching my classmates like they were a different species.
They don't know.
None of them knew about the trial. About the verdict. About the extraction team that had attacked the ORC and nearly dragged me into whatever hell the Restoration had planned. To them, I was just the American transfer student who hung around the Occult Research Club and somehow survived the school's weird supernatural incidents.
The Phoenix Killer identity hadn't leaked to the human world. Small mercies.
"Cross-san looks tired," someone whispered behind me. "Did you see the circles under his eyes?"
"He always looks like that. Probably stays up playing video games."
If only.
"You're brooding again," the Fragment observed. "Unproductive."
I'm processing.
"You've been 'processing' for fourteen days. At some point, action becomes necessary."
The Fragment had been quiet since the attack. Not silent - it was never truly silent - but subdued. Watchful. Like it was waiting for something.
Or someone.
The bell rang for morning break. I made my way to the ORC clubroom through hallways that parted slightly around me.
The students didn't know about Phoenix Killer. But they knew something. Word had spread - carefully controlled whispers from the supernatural community - that Ryder Cross was dangerous. That he'd done something terrible. That he was on probation for crimes they couldn't quite name.
The pure-blood devil students avoided eye contact. The reincarnated ones nodded with something like respect.
I wasn't sure which reaction was worse.
"Senpai."
Koneko fell into step beside me. She didn't say anything else - just walked, her presence a steady warmth against the cold looks from passing nobles' children.
"Thanks," I said.
"...didn't do anything."
"Yeah. You did."
She handed me a chocolate bar. I took it without comment.
Craving sweets again. The Koneko Echo, bleeding through. After two weeks of constant vigilance, the borrowed instincts had settled into comfortable patterns. I tracked threats without thinking. Assessed escape routes automatically. Craved sugar and sunlight in equal measure.
Thirty-eight percent Echo, stable but rising slowly. The Fragment kept count. I tried not to.
The ORC was already populated when we arrived.
Akeno served tea with her usual grace. Kiba reviewed a training schedule at the corner table. Asia hummed while organizing healing supplies. Rias sat in her chair, papers spread before her, looking every inch the noble King managing her territory.
Two weeks of routine. Two weeks of pretending the world hadn't shifted under our feet.
"Good morning," Rias said, looking up. Her eyes found mine, and something warm flickered behind the formal mask. "Sleep well?"
"Lied to myself effectively for about four hours."
"Progress." A small smile. "We have training this afternoon. Your Light Lance efficiency is up to sixty-seven percent now. Akeno wants to work on your lightning timing."
"Ara ara." Akeno's voice carried from the tea station. "I want to see how much you've improved. And if you scream less this time."
"I never screamed."
"You made sounds that were scream-adjacent."
"That's not the same thing."
The banter felt good. Normal. Like we were just a group of friends, not a peerage that had survived political catastrophe and supernatural assault.
The door opened.
Mira Kagami walked in like she belonged there.
Two weeks ago, she'd revealed herself as Fragment Six during the Restoration attack. Since then, she'd been a ghost - appearing occasionally at Gremory estate for briefings, then vanishing into whatever hiding places Fragment users developed.
Now she wore Kuoh Academy's uniform.
"The new transfer paperwork went through," she said, closing the door behind her. "I'm officially a second-year student. History says I'm from Osaka. Moved for family reasons. Quiet, studious, unremarkable."
My wrist ached.
The twelve-pointed star - now a permanent scar burned into my skin - pulsed with cold awareness. Not painful. Just... reactive. Like two magnets recognizing each other across a room.
"Interesting," the Fragment murmured. "The resonance is stronger with proximity."
Resonance?
"Fragments recognize each other. The closer you are, the more your marks respond."
I rubbed my wrist absently. Mira noticed, her eyes dropping to the motion, then back to my face. She understood. She had to have a mark of her own.
"Cover story established," Rias said, rising. "You'll attend classes normally. If anyone asks, you're a family friend staying with distant relatives. The supernatural community knows not to interfere - I've made arrangements."
"You mean you've threatened people."
"I've communicated expectations clearly."
Mira's lips twitched. Not quite a smile, but close. "The Phoenix Killer's King makes arrangements. The Phoenix Killer makes messes. Is that how it works?"
"That's one interpretation."
I watched the exchange. Rias and Mira circling each other like predators establishing territory. Two women who'd survived things that would break most people, each trying to figure out if the other was threat or ally.
"She's staying," I said. Both turned to me. "That's not a request. Mira knows things about the Fragments that we don't. The Restoration is hunting us both. We work together or we die separately."
Rias's expression softened. "I wasn't suggesting otherwise."
"Good." I looked at Mira. "What do you need?"
"A place to be visible without being exposed. The school provides that." She moved to the window, looking out at the courtyard below. "The Restoration can track you through your mark. They don't have that advantage with me - yet. If I stay close, they might assume I'm just a human friend."
"And if they don't?"
"Then we find out how well your peerage fights when Fragment Six is on their side."
"She's cautious," the Fragment observed. "Good. Caution keeps Fragment users alive."
You said 'another piece' when you first saw her. What did you mean?
Silence. The Fragment had been doing that lately - dropping cryptic hints, then refusing to elaborate. Whatever the Watcher's approach meant for our partnership, the ancient entity had become more guarded.
"Classes start in ten minutes," Asia said, breaking the tension. "Mira-san, would you like me to show you to your classroom?"
"That would be helpful." Mira followed Asia toward the door, then paused. "Cross. Tonight. We need to talk. Alone."
She left before I could respond.
The day passed in fragments.
Lectures I couldn't focus on. Homework I completed automatically. Lunch with the peerage, conversation floating around me like noise from another room.
The students gave me space. The pure-bloods whispered "Phoenix Killer" when they thought I couldn't hear. The reincarnated devils nodded with something between respect and fear.
You killed someone. That's what they see.
I sat in the classroom during afternoon study period, staring at equations that might as well have been written in ancient Sumerian.
Height: measurement of opponent's reach.
The thought came unbidden. Not my thought - Dohnaseek's. The fallen angel's combat instincts, filtering everything through tactical assessment.
Escape routes: two doors, four windows. Nearest weapon: metal chair.
I closed my eyes. Pushed the instincts down. They settled, reluctantly, like predators waiting for their next hunt.
Thirty-eight percent. The Echoes were getting comfortable.
Training that afternoon was brutal.
Akeno's lightning crackled across the barrier field, and I moved on instinct - borrowed instinct, Kiba's footwork guiding me through gaps I shouldn't have been able to see.
"Better!" Akeno called, her voice carrying the edge of genuine approval. "Your timing has improved significantly."
"I had good teachers."
"Ara ara. Flattery won't save you from the next bolt."
It didn't. But I dodged three more before she caught me, and the impact sent me skidding across the training ground with my nervous system screaming.
"Sixty-seven percent efficiency on Light Lance," Rias announced, reviewing the training data. "Up from fifty-one percent before the Rating Game. Your power level has stabilized at ninety-five."
Numbers. Stats. The Fragment's gift - or curse - made everything quantifiable.
Level 24. Power Level 95. Echo 38%.
I was stronger than I'd been when I killed Riser. Strong enough to survive things that would have destroyed me months ago.
Not strong enough to fight the Watcher.
The thought came unbidden. The permanent scar on my wrist pulsed cold.
"You're distracted," Rias said, approaching. The training ground was empty now - Akeno had gone to prepare dinner, Kiba to his own exercises, Koneko to her afternoon nap.
"Processing."
"You've been processing for two weeks."
"It's a lot to process."
She stood beside me, close enough that I could smell the faint perfume she wore - old books and starlight, she'd called it once. Her hand found mine, fingers intertwining.
"Whatever comes next," she said quietly, "we face it together."
The words from the ORC attack. The promise we'd made when the world was falling apart around us.
"I know." I squeezed her hand. "I'm just... trying to figure out what 'next' looks like."
"Probation. Training. Keeping Mira close. Preparing for whatever the Restoration sends next." She turned to face me, crimson eyes steady. "We have time. Not much, but enough to get stronger."
Time. The Watcher had said two days. That deadline had passed without incident - no extraction attempt, no psychic assault. Just silence.
Silence was worse.
"The mark hasn't activated since the attack," I said. "No Watcher contact. No countdown warnings. It's like..."
"Like he's waiting."
"Yeah."
Rias's thumb brushed across my knuckles. "Then we make sure we're ready when he stops waiting."
Evening fell over Kuoh Academy.
I found Mira on the rooftop, her dark hair catching the last light of sunset. She stood at the railing, looking out over a town that had no idea what lurked in its shadows.
"You wanted to talk."
"I wanted to warn you." She didn't turn around. "The Restoration won't stop. The extraction team that attacked - that was reconnaissance. They wanted to see how you fought. What your peerage could do."
"Great. So the next attack will be worse."
"Much worse." Now she turned, her expression guarded. "There are twelve Fragments. The Restoration has collected four. Five, if you count the ones whose hosts died during extraction."
Died. The word hung in the air.
"They don't care about keeping us alive?"
"They care about the Fragment. The host is... optional." Her voice carried old pain. "I've been running for three years. Hiding. Watching other Fragment users get captured or killed. You're the first one I've met who might actually be able to fight back."
"Because of the peerage."
"Because of what you did to Riser Phenex." Her eyes met mine. "You killed a regenerator. Permanently. Do you have any idea how rare that is? How impossible?"
I didn't answer. The memory of golden light, of flames failing to reignite, still burned behind my eyes.
"The Restoration noticed," Mira continued. "The Watcher noticed. Everyone noticed. The Phoenix Killer isn't just a title - it's a threat assessment. They know you can do things that shouldn't be possible."
"And that makes me valuable."
"That makes you the most dangerous Fragment user alive." She stepped closer. "Which means they'll come for you harder than they've come for anyone else. And when they do, everyone around you becomes a target."
The permanent scar pulsed. Cold. Aware.
"She speaks truth," the Fragment said. "Value creates danger. Danger creates opportunity."
Opportunity for what?
"Growth. Evolution. Survival." A pause. "Or destruction. The choice remains yours."
The sun finished setting. Stars emerged, cold and distant.
Mira left the rooftop first, her footsteps silent on the stairs. I stayed, watching the night sky, trying to find patterns in the chaos.
Probation. Training. Mira as an ally. The Restoration planning their next move. The Watcher waiting for... something.
My wrist ached.
The star-shaped scar pulsed with that strange awareness - not pain, not warning, just... presence. Like something was watching through the mark itself.
Two weeks of peace. It won't last.
I knew that. Everyone knew that. But we trained anyway. Rebuilt anyway. Kept moving forward because the alternative was giving up.
The new girl - Mira - had smiled at the class that morning. Perfect and ordinary. But when her eyes had met mine across the crowded room, the mark had burned with recognition.
"Another piece," the Fragment had said.
Whatever that meant, one thing was clear.
My life was about to get more complicated.
And more dangerous.