—Aaaaa… so? What’s the reason you called me?

  Saji walked with his hands in his pockets, his gaze empty, his tone that of someone who had already resigned himself to the world using him as a lamp post every time there was a problem. The station was quiet; the sound of trains and the murmur of ordinary people gave everything an insulting normality.

  Issei was waiting near a vending machine, trying to look casual…

  and failing.

  Too much nervous energy in his body.

  Too many words piled up in his throat.

  At his side, attached like a white shadow, Koneko.

  She wasn’t “coming along.”

  She was guarding him.

  One small hand gripped Issei’s shirt with the implacable calm of someone who, if he even thought of running, would drop him with a single hit without raising her voice.

  Saji looked at her, saw that hand, and frowned.

  —…What are you two trying to do?

  Issei coughed, looked for air as if he were about to say something heroic, and the only thing he managed was to sound guilty.

  —Look, Saji… I need your help.

  —No. —Saji answered without even thinking.— No, no, no. I haven’t even finished finding out why you called me, and I already know it’s a “no.”

  Koneko tugged lightly on Issei’s shirt, a reminder that the conversation was real and he was not allowed to escape halfway through.

  —He can’t run away —she said, emotionless.

  —I wasn’t planning to run away! —Issei threw up his hands.— I was just… breathing.

  Saji let out a long sigh.

  The kind that feels like defeat.

  —Hyoudou… tell me what you want. But if this has anything to do with holy swords, Fallen Angels, or the fact that lately your life is a calamity with legs… I’m leaving.

  Issei swallowed. Koneko looked at him without blinking.

  —I want to talk to Xenovia and Irina —Issei said quickly.— Ask them for permission to destroy the stolen Excaliburs.

  Silence fell like glass.

  Saji blinked.

  Koneko’s expression didn’t change.

  Then Saji turned in place like a cartoon character.

  —Noooooooo! I’m going home!

  He tried to bolt.

  He didn’t even make it three steps.

  Koneko grabbed the back of his jacket with surgical precision and stopped him like a puppy about to run into traffic. Saji hung suspended for half a second, kicked helplessly, and landed back on the ground with whatever dignity he’d had left somewhere behind him.

  —You see?! —Saji pointed at Issei, face red.— You see what you do?! This is a death sentence! I’m in the Sitri peerage! I have nothing to do with Gremory’s circus!

  Issei looked at him with the expression of someone saying yes, I know, and kept going anyway.

  —That’s exactly why I need you.

  —What kind of logic is that?!

  —Saji… —Issei lowered his voice.— Kiba is… not okay. You saw him. And Kaelan…

  Saji cut him off, throwing up his hands like he was warding off a curse.

  —Don’t drag the new pawn into this! That guy already brought an Excalibur into a school club like it was an umbrella! And then left it there! If Sona finds out I took part in anything related to Excalibur, she’ll erase me from the map!

  Koneko tilted her head slightly.

  —She won’t kill you —she said seriously.— She’ll dismantle you.

  Saji looked at her, pale.

  —That’s worse!

  Issei took a deep breath, trying to organize his head. The station remained the same: people coming in, people leaving, the train announcing destinations in a mechanical voice.

  The normal world kept moving.

  And they were standing there planning to negotiate with two bearers of weapons designed to exterminate them.

  —Listen to me —Issei stepped a little closer.— We’re not telling Rias-buchou. Or Akeno-san. Or Sona. Or anyone.

  Saji opened his mouth to yell at him. Koneko tightened the jacket by one more millimeter.

  —…Do you want me to die faster? —Saji said weakly.— This is literally conspiring against my boss.

  —It’s for Kiba —Issei said.

  And that changed the air.

  Koneko, who rarely showed emotion, lowered her gaze just a little.

  Not out of sadness.

  Out of the kind of quiet loyalty that needed no explanation.

  And Saji…

  Saji frowned, as if he wanted to refuse and at the same time couldn’t.

  —Kiba wants to destroy them —Issei insisted.— He wants to beat them. He wants this to end. If we… if I… if we can make it so he faces this and comes out the other side, maybe… maybe he’ll stop looking at himself like a failed survivor.

  Saji swallowed.

  —And what do I have to do with that…

  Issei put a hand on his shoulder.

  —Because you’re the only male devil who isn’t going to treat me like I’m a starving dog.

  —Is that a compliment?! —Saji protested.

  —It is —Koneko said flatly.

  Saji looked at both of them, defeated.

  —You two… are completely insane.

  —Yeah —Issei admitted.— But it’s for our teammate.

  Koneko nodded once.

  Coming from her, that was a vow.

  Saji closed his eyes and breathed as if counting to ten.

  —Fine —he said at last, voice strained.— But if this goes wrong… I run. I run and I don’t look back. And if Sona asks me, I was never here.

  —Deal —Issei said, relieved.

  Koneko released the collar of Saji’s jacket.

  —If he runs, I’ll catch him.

  Saji looked at her like a man who had just seen a sentence carved into stone.

  —…Thanks for the support.

  —

  The city swallowed them in its free-afternoon rhythm.

  Issei walked in front, Koneko at one side, Saji at the other.

  Now and then Issei tried to talk just to bleed tension out of his body, but every sentence died when he remembered the goal was to find two girls in white cloaks who could kill them by accident.

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  —Hey —Issei said, glancing sideways at Koneko.— Are you still mad about… you know… the clothes thing?

  Koneko looked at him.

  —Yes.

  One word.

  One bullet.

  Issei shrank a little.

  —It was a… tactical… technique…

  Saji pointed at him like a prosecutor.

  —Oh, look at that! So that’s what it was! I knew there was a reason! It wasn’t just that you’re a degenerate with no self-control!

  Issei opened his mouth to defend himself.

  Koneko cut him off without changing her tone.

  —Kaelan stood in front of me last time.

  Saji blinked.

  Issei did too.

  —Huh?

  Koneko kept walking as if she were commenting on the weather.

  —When you were about to try it. He stepped in front. Covered me.

  Issei went still for a second.

  Not from guilt.

  From the kind of silent blow that makes you realize someone else has been watching your behavior with more serious eyes than you thought.

  —…Okay —Issei said, lowering his voice.— Then… I won’t do it again.

  Koneko looked at him once more.

  —Good.

  Saji let out a bitter little laugh.

  —In the end, the new pawn has more common sense than you do.

  Issei gave him a light elbow.

  —Shut up.

  —

  They found them quickly.

  Too quickly.

  Because they weren’t hiding.

  They were literally on the sidewalk, immaculate white cloaks on, hands clasped, looking at the sky and asking for charity in shaky Japanese with enough conviction to break walls.

  —Please, bless the lost lambs…

  —Please, charity for us in the name of the Father in Heaven!

  People were circling them with odd looks. Some laughed under their breath. Others hurried past. No one approached.

  Saji put a hand over his face.

  —This… this can’t be real.

  Koneko watched them like a cat watching two strange birds.

  Issei swallowed and stepped closer.

  Before he could speak to them, the two started arguing with each other with the natural ease of an old married couple.

  —How can this be? —Xenovia looked around as if Japan itself were a personal offense.— Developed country, and yet it reeks of spiritual emptiness.

  —Don’t say that —Irina clutched her stomach.— We lost all the money. If we don’t depend on the charity of heretics, we don’t eat.

  —It was all because you bought that fake painting.

  Irina lifted a little bag and pulled out a hideous picture, with a “saint” who looked like a depressed tourist and a baby angel floating in the background like a sticker.

  —It’s not fake! The man said it looked like a saint!

  —And do you know who it is?

  Irina hesitated, looking at the painting with serious religious concentration.

  —…Saint… Peter?

  —Saint Peter would not look like that.

  —Yes he would!

  —God… —Xenovia squeezed her eyes shut.— Is this another trial?

  Issei stared at the scene with his mouth half open.

  Saji leaned toward him.

  —These are the same ones who almost cut us apart on the bridge two days ago?

  —Yes —Issei whispered.

  —…We’re doomed.

  Both of their stomachs growled at the same time.

  A synchronized growl.

  Almost solemn.

  The two froze, looked at each other, and the argument restarted as if nothing had happened.

  —First we need to eat.

  —Agreed. We can get money by threatening the heretics.

  —Don’t attack a sanctuary.

  —Then let’s use our swords to put on a show.

  —Excellent! We cut fruit.

  —There is no fruit.

  Irina looked at the painting.

  —Then… let’s cut the image.

  —No! We are not cutting it!

  Issei closed his eyes for a second, gathered courage, and stepped forward.

  —Ahem.

  Both of them turned.

  And the danger returned.

  Not because they made any gesture.

  Because their eyes were no longer those of two hungry girls.

  They were bearers again.

  Xenovia narrowed her eyes. Irina smiled politely.

  —Oh —Irina said.— Hello.

  Xenovia recognized him instantly.

  —Sekiryuutei. And… a Sitri devil. And… the nekomata.

  Saji swallowed. Koneko didn’t react.

  Issei tried to sound normal.

  —Come eat.

  Irina’s eyes widened.

  —Eat?

  Xenovia frowned, suspicious.

  —Is this a trap?

  —No —Issei said.— It’s… a negotiation. With food. Like civilized humans do.

  Saji muttered:

  —This is insanity.

  Koneko added, flatly:

  —It works.

  —

  The family restaurant had white lights, red seats, and smelled of frying oil and sweet tea. The kind of ordinary place where it seemed impossible that two Excaliburs could be sitting there eating like lost tourists.

  But they were.

  Irina was devouring food with genuine happiness.

  Xenovia ate with the serious face of someone carrying out a tactical mission, though the speed of her hand made it obvious she was genuinely hungry.

  —Delicious! —Irina said.— Japanese cooking is incredible!

  —Yes —Xenovia nodded.— I admit this… is efficient.

  Saji was watching the scene in silent trauma.

  Issei, from the other side of the table, inhaled and got to the point.

  —I want to help destroy the stolen Excaliburs.

  Irina froze with her fork in the air.

  Xenovia looked at him as if measuring whether he was stupid or dangerous.

  —Why?

  Issei tightened the napkin between his fingers.

  —Because Kiba… —he said.— Because my teammate can’t breathe every time he hears “Excalibur.” And because you said something in the club: that it would be better to destroy them before they fall into the wrong hands.

  Irina slowly set her fork down.

  —Xenovia… he’s a devil.

  —I know —Xenovia replied.

  Saji went pale.

  —I’m here as decoration, right?

  Koneko looked at him.

  —Yes.

  Saji sank a little deeper into his seat.

  Xenovia rested her elbows on the table, a gesture improper for a “saint” but real.

  —Irina. If I tell the truth, recovering the three Excaliburs and facing Kokabiel with only the two of us is… imprudent.

  —But…!

  —The minimum objective is to destroy them or remove them. If they are going to be stolen… it is better to destroy them first. And if for that I must use a resource Headquarters did not explicitly forbid… I will use it.

  Irina gripped the cross at her neck.

  —Your faith is strange.

  —My faith is flexible —Xenovia said flatly.— I want to live. I want to return. And I want to complete the mission.

  Then she looked at Issei with precision.

  —Besides… you are Sekiryuutei. The dragon’s power inside you still exists even if you are a devil. If you raise it high enough, you can break an Excalibur. And if you cannot… you can transfer it to someone who can.

  Issei swallowed.

  —To Kiba?

  —To Kiba —Xenovia confirmed.— That’s your plan, isn’t it?

  Issei blinked. He felt exposed.

  —Yes.

  Koneko, for the first time, spoke with something close to audible conviction.

  —It’s for Yuuto-senpai.

  Irina looked at them. Her eyes softened a little.

  —…I understand.

  Saji raised a hand in desperation.

  —Sorry. Sorry. Stop. Don’t you care that there’s already an Excalibur under custody in Kuoh?

  Xenovia looked at him.

  —I do care.

  The word was dry.

  —That is why this must be resolved quickly —she added.— The more Excaliburs circulate in one city, the more inevitable the massacre becomes. You already have one contained. Good. That means the situation escalated faster than expected.

  Irina lowered her gaze for a second.

  —And it means that… if we fail, the higher-ups will assume the worst.

  Xenovia nodded.

  —That is why I accept your proposal, Sekiryuutei.

  Issei went still.

  —…Really?

  —Yes —Xenovia said.— I will let you destroy one. But under one condition: your identities must not be revealed. I do not want it to appear that the Church cooperates with devils.

  Issei exhaled as if he had only now recovered air.

  —Okay. Deal.

  Irina still hesitated for a second, looking at the table as if swallowing her own doctrine.

  —…Ise-kun —she said quietly.— Don’t get careless. Xenovia seems cold, but she’s scared. I am too.

  Xenovia shot her an irritated look.

  —Do not say that.

  —It’s true —Irina shrugged.— I’m hungry and scared. It’s a common combination.

  Saji muttered:

  —I never thought I’d hear that.

  Xenovia took out a pen, an absurdly human gesture, and wrote a number on a piece of paper.

  —If something happens, call this number.

  Issei took the paper.

  —Thanks… but there’s one more thing.

  Xenovia looked up.

  —Say it.

  Issei swallowed.

  —I need to call Kiba.

  —

  Kiba arrived later.

  He entered the family restaurant still in uniform, hair slightly disordered, expression closed in the way of someone who had not come because he wanted to…

  but because something inside pushed him here.

  When he saw Xenovia and Irina, the air changed.

  There was no shouting.

  No explicit threat.

  Just a sharp tension rising up the back of Issei’s neck.

  Kiba sat down.

  He looked at Xenovia as if looking at a past he had never asked for.

  —So… you decide whether I can destroy them.

  Xenovia held his gaze.

  —Yes.

  Kiba smiled without humor.

  —How generous.

  Irina swallowed.

  —Kiba-kun…

  Kiba didn’t even look at her.

  —Because of your “project,” my companions died.

  Irina lowered her head. Xenovia, on the other hand, replied with a coldness that hurt precisely because of how exact it was.

  —That incident was one of the worst cases in our history. The person in charge was charged with heresy.

  Kiba tensed.

  —And now?

  —Now he is on the side of the Fallen Angels.

  The knife sank in.

  Kiba lifted his gaze.

  —Name.

  Xenovia did not hesitate.

  —Balba Galilei. The Genocide Archbishop.

  The silence that followed was not drama.

  It was processing.

  A piece falling into place.

  For the first time, Kiba’s hatred had coordinates.

  Issei saw it in his posture: he did not relax, but the anger changed shape.

  From storm to direction.

  Kiba inhaled slowly.

  —Then I’m going to kill him.

  Irina opened her mouth to say something.

  Xenovia interrupted her.

  —That part does not interest me. What interests me is that you destroy Excalibur if you find it. And that we recover what we can before Kokabiel turns this into a spectacle.

  Kiba clenched his teeth.

  —Freed.

  Xenovia looked at him.

  —What?

  —Zelzan Freed —Kiba said.— He attacked me. He had an Excalibur. He killed a priest.

  Irina stiffened.

  For the first time Xenovia’s jaw tightened.

  —…I see. So it’s him.

  —You know him —Issei said, not surprised.

  —Too well —Xenovia said.— Prodigy exorcist. Hunter without faith. Functional psychopath. If he’s carrying an Excalibur, he’s not a thief. He’s a dog with a bomb in its mouth.

  Saji put a hand over his face.

  —Great. This gets worse.

  Koneko looked at Kiba.

  —He’s dead —Kiba continued.— He fell during the recent confrontation.

  Issei looked up sharply. Saji did too.

  —The Excalibur he carried didn’t disappear —Kiba added.— It was recovered.

  The silence shifted weight.

  Xenovia’s eyes opened slowly.

  —Recovered… by whom?

  No one answered immediately.

  Koneko looked away.

  Issei swallowed.

  —By Kaelan —he said at last.

  Xenovia did not react with anger.

  Not with surprise.

  She reacted with calculation.

  —Then that is the Excalibur now under custody —she said.— The sword has already chosen the worst possible place to exist.

  But for one second her aura trembled less.

  Issei rested both elbows on the table.

  —Then… cooperation strategy.

  Xenovia nodded once.

  —Yes.

  Irina looked at all of them with a tired smile.

  —And… thank you for the food.

  Saji muttered despite himself:

  —I never thought I’d finance a holy war.

  Xenovia stood.

  —Next time I pay, Sekiryuutei.

  Irina rose too, turned to Issei, and winked with absurd naturalness.

  —Even if you’re a devil, God will allow it… if it involves food.

  Saji nearly choked on air.

  Koneko watched them leave calmly.

  When the door closed, the restaurant became a restaurant again.

  But they did not go back to being “high school kids.”

  Issei sank into his seat and let out an impossibly long sigh.

  —Okay… that went way too well.

  Saji looked at him with tragic eyes.

  —Don’t say that. When you say that, the universe hears you.

  Kiba kept staring at the table.

  And in that silence, Issei understood something without anyone saying it:

  The war had not begun in the club.

  Nor on the bridge.

  It began the moment someone decided that yes, this was personal.

  And Kiba…

  had already made his decision.

  Outside the restaurant, the city remained calm.

  In Kuoh, normality kept breathing.

  But underneath, like a crack you still cannot see…

  something had already begun to move.