Three days of watching Mira Kagami, and I still couldn't figure her out.
She moved through Kuoh Academy like a ghost with a student ID. Perfect attendance. Perfect notes. Perfect smile when teachers called on her. She answered questions with the right amount of hesitation - enough to seem thoughtful, not enough to draw attention.
Too perfect.
I sat in the library during lunch period, pretending to read a history textbook while observing her through the gaps between shelves. She'd chosen a table near the window, sunlight catching the dark strands of her hair. A stack of books surrounded her - calculus, literature, something in what looked like German.
Who studies German in Japan?
"Someone who needs to disappear into multiple countries," the Fragment observed. "Languages are tools. She's collecting them."
Mira turned a page. Her hand moved to her left wrist - an unconscious motion, quickly corrected.
She has a mark too.
"All Fragment users do. The Watcher brands his targets. The Restoration tracks their prey. We are all marked, one way or another."
My own scar pulsed in sympathy. The twelve-pointed star had been quiet since the attack - no psychic intrusions, no countdown warnings. Just cold awareness, like a predator watching through borrowed eyes.
The silence was worse than the threats.
"You're staring."
Koneko's voice came from beside me, low enough that only I could hear. She'd appeared without sound - natural stealth or her own brand of social invisibility.
"Observing," I corrected.
"...same thing."
"It's really not."
She placed a chocolate bar on my textbook. I took it automatically, breaking off a piece without looking away from Mira's table.
"Rias is worried," Koneko said.
"I know."
"Asia thinks you're being paranoid."
"I am being paranoid." I watched Mira close her German book and reach for another. "But that doesn't mean I'm wrong."
Koneko was quiet for a moment. Then: "...what are you looking for?"
Good question. What was I looking for?
Mira had revealed herself during the Restoration attack. Fragment Six - Consumption. She'd warned us about the threat, provided intel, offered alliance. By every measure, she was on our side.
But something didn't fit.
"She's hiding," the Fragment said, echoing my own thoughts. "But she's like you."
Like me how?
"Hunted. Desperate. Surviving one day at a time." A pause. "The difference is, you stopped running. She hasn't."
Classes resumed. I tracked Mira through the hallways - not following, exactly, just... aware. The mark made it easy. Every time she was within thirty meters, my wrist ached with that strange resonance.
Fragment users recognized each other. The closer the proximity, the stronger the pull.
She knew I was watching. Had to. But she never acknowledged it - just kept walking, kept smiling, kept being the perfect transfer student.
During English class, she answered a question about Shakespeare. Her pronunciation was flawless. Native-level, even.
She said she was from Osaka. That accent isn't Osaka.
"Observation noted. Continue."
I continued.
The peerage met after school in the ORC clubroom. Training schedules, territory reports, the usual business of managing Rias's claim on Kuoh Academy's supernatural population.
"The Sitri scouts found trace magical signatures near the eastern boundary," Kiba reported. "Old. At least a week. Someone was watching the campus."
"Restoration?"
"Possibly. The signature doesn't match their usual patterns."
Rias frowned. "Increase patrols. Double coverage on the east side."
"Understood."
I listened with half attention, my eyes drifting to the window. Mira had declined the meeting - "studying," she'd said. But I'd seen her heading toward the old school building instead.
What are you doing?
"Ryder."
I turned. Rias was watching me, concern evident in her expression. The others had gone quiet.
"You've been distracted all week," she said.
"I'm processing."
"You've been processing for three weeks now." Her tone carried gentle frustration. "Talk to me."
The others exchanged looks. Akeno's amusement. Kiba's careful neutrality. Koneko's steady gaze, seeing more than she let on.
"Mira," I said.
"What about her?"
"She's hiding something."
"She's a Fragment user on the run from an ancient conspiracy. Hiding things is survival."
"It's more than that." I stood, moving to the window. The old school building was visible from here - dark windows, empty halls, the place where we'd fought stray devils and plotted impossible victories. "She knows more than she's telling us. About the Fragments. About what I am. About why the Restoration wants me so badly."
Rias rose, crossing to stand beside me. Her presence was warm, grounding. "Then ask her."
"I tried. She deflected."
"Try harder." Her hand found mine. "Whatever secrets she's keeping, we need to know. If you think she's dangerous - "
"Not dangerous. Just... cautious." I squeezed her hand. "Too cautious. Like she's waiting for something to go wrong."
"She expects betrayal," the Fragment observed. "Experience has taught her to expect nothing else."
The words hit harder than they should have.
I found Mira in the old school building's rooftop garden - a forgotten space that Rias had converted into a training ground years ago. Now it served as a quiet place for conversations that couldn't happen in public.
She stood at the railing, looking out over Kuoh Town. The sunset painted everything in shades of gold and crimson.
"You've been watching me," she said without turning around.
"You've been avoiding me."
"Not avoiding. Observing." Now she turned, and something in her expression shifted. Not quite hostile, but guarded. Wary. "You're the Phoenix Killer. I've heard the stories. Seen the aftermath."
"And?"
"And I'm trying to figure out if you're worth trusting."
I stepped closer, the mark on my wrist pulsing with cold awareness. "You already trusted me. You revealed yourself during the attack. Gave us intel."
"Tactical necessity." She crossed her arms. "You were fighting the Restoration. So was I. Common enemy, common ground."
"But?"
"But common ground isn't the same as trust."
The words hung in the air. I could feel the Fragment's attention, its ancient curiosity focused on our exchange.
"She tests you. Interesting."
"What are you, exactly?" I asked. "Not what Fragment you carry - I know that. What are you?"
Mira's expression flickered. Surprise, maybe. Or something older.
"Surviving," she said finally. "Same as you."
"That's not an answer."
"It's the only answer I have." She turned back to the railing, tension visible in her shoulders. "You want to know why I run? Why I hide? Because that's what Fragment users do. We survive. We endure. We wait for the day when something bigger than us decides we're not worth hunting anymore."
"That's giving up."
"That's reality." Her voice carried an edge. "You killed Riser Phenex. You fought the Restoration and won. You have a peerage, a King, allies who would die for you. That's not normal. That's not how Fragment users live."
"Then how do you live?"
She was quiet for a long moment. When she spoke again, her voice was softer. "Alone. Always alone. Moving before anyone gets close. Before the mark leads them to me."
I moved to stand beside her, looking out at the same view. The town looked peaceful from here - lights beginning to flicker on as darkness crept across the sky.
"You're not alone now," I said.
"No." She glanced at me, something unreadable in her eyes. "I'm not."
We stood in silence as the stars emerged.
My questions remained unanswered - who she really was, where she came from, how she'd survived three years on the run. But the tension had shifted. Not quite trust, but... understanding.
"She carries the Sixth," the Fragment said. "Consumption. A difficult burden."
What does that mean?
"The Sixth consumes. Energy. Power. Life. She cannot touch without taking."
I looked at Mira's hands, resting carefully on the railing. Gloved. Always gloved, I realized. In class, during meetings, even now.
"The Consumption," I said quietly.
She stiffened.
"You can't touch anyone. Can you?"
"No." The word came out clipped. Final. "I can't."
"For how long?"
"Since I was fifteen. Since the Fragment woke up and made me a weapon whether I wanted to be one or not."
Three years. Three years of never touching another person. Three years of isolation wrapped in skin that could kill.
"I'm sorry."
"Don't be." She pushed away from the railing. "It's the price. All Fragment users pay something. You paid memories. I paid contact." A bitter smile. "At least you can still hold someone's hand."
She moved toward the stairs. I let her go.
But before she reached the door, she paused.
"When you're ready to know," she said without turning around, "find me. But not here. Not safe."
"Where?"
"You'll know when you're ready."
She left.
The ORC was quiet when I returned.
The others had gone - training, dinner, the evening routines that kept the peerage functioning. Only Rias remained, seated in her chair with a cup of tea grown cold.
"You talked to her," she said.
"Yeah."
"And?"
I sat across from her, the armchair accepting my weight like an old friend. "She knows about the Fragments. More than she's shared. More than I can explain."
"Did she tell you anything useful?"
"She can't touch anyone." The words came out flat. "Her Fragment - Consumption. It takes from anything she contacts. Energy. Life. Everything."
Rias's expression softened. "That's... isolating."
"Three years. She's been running alone for three years."
We sat in silence, processing. The Fragment hummed at the back of my mind, its attention divided between our conversation and something else - something it wasn't sharing.
"She said something," I continued. "About finding her when I'm ready. About it not being safe here."
"Do you trust her?"
"I don't know." I met Rias's eyes. "But I don't think she's our enemy."
"That's not the same as trusting her."
"No. It's not."
Rias set down her cup, rising to move toward me. She stopped beside my chair, her hand resting on my shoulder - a gesture that had become familiar over the past weeks. Comfort without pressure.
"We'll figure it out," she said. "Together."
I reached up, covering her hand with mine. Her fingers were warm against my skin. Real. Present.
"The team needs to stay alert," I said. "If Mira's worried about safety here, there's a reason. The Restoration is planning something."
"Kiba already doubled patrols."
"Double them again."
"We don't have the resources - "
"Then coordinate with Sitri. Whatever it takes." I squeezed her hand. "We can't afford to be surprised again."
Rias studied me for a moment. Then she nodded. "I'll speak with Sona tomorrow."
"Thank you."
She leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead - brief, warm, gone before I could react. "Get some rest. Tomorrow we train."
I didn't rest.
Instead, I sat in my room at Rias's estate, staring at the ceiling while the Fragment processed the day's events.
"The Sixth is cautious," it said finally. "She should be."
Why?
"Because the things that hunt us do not forgive. The Restoration wants the Fragments. The Watcher wants the hosts. And there are older things still that neither of us have named."
The mark on my wrist pulsed. Cold. Aware.
You've been quiet about her. Why?
"Because she carries a piece of what I was." A long pause. "Before the shattering. Before the hunt. We were whole once."
The Architect.
"Yes."
I sat up, blood running cold. "She's part of you?"
"Not of me. Of what created me. The Twelve Fragments - each carries a purpose. A function. I am the First. The Core. She is the Sixth. Consumption."
And together?
"Together, we are twelve shattered pieces of something the gods themselves could not destroy."
The implications crashed through me like lightning. Twelve Fragments. Twelve pieces of the Architect. The Restoration wanted to reassemble them - which meant killing the hosts and extracting what they carried.
But the Fragment - my Fragment - was the Core.
Without me, they can't complete it.
"Without the Core, assembly is impossible. You are the keystone. The center. The piece around which all others must arrange themselves."
That's why they want me so badly.
"Yes."
I lay back down, mind racing. Mira knew. She had to know. The Sixth would have told her the same thing my Fragment had told me - that we were all pieces of something vast, something ancient, something the gods had destroyed in fear.
And the Restoration wanted to put it back together.
Sleep came eventually, restless and thin.
I dreamed of twelve points of light, scattered across dimensions. One by one, they went dark - consumed by shadow, claimed by hunters, snuffed out by forces beyond comprehension.
When I woke, the mark was burning.
Not pain. Not warning.
Recognition.
Someone - or something - was close.
The next morning, Mira caught my eye across the crowded classroom.
No words. No gestures. Just a look that said I know you understand now.
And beneath it, buried deep where only another Fragment user could see: fear.
Not of me. Not of the Restoration.
Of what we carried.
Of what we might become.
"She knows about the Fragment," I told Rias at lunch, keeping my voice low. "More than she should."
Rias frowned. "Then we find out why."
But the Fragment had gone silent. Almost... nervous?
Since when did an ancient entity get nervous?
And why was Mira's presence making the mark ache?