Morning came whether I wanted it to or not.
Sunlight crept through the ORC building's windows, warm and golden and completely indifferent to the fact that I hadn't slept. The fire had died sometime around three a.m., leaving cold ash and the faint smell of smoke.
I sat in the same chair I'd claimed the night before, watching dust motes drift through the light. My eyes burned. My body ached. But every time I tried to close my eyes, I heard static where my mother's voice should have been.
So I stayed awake.
The building stirred around me. Footsteps on the floor above. Water running somewhere. The small sounds of people waking up and pretending yesterday hadn't happened.
Koneko appeared first. She padded down the stairs in bare feet, her white hair disheveled from sleep, and stopped when she saw me.
"...didn't sleep."
Not a question. An observation.
"Couldn't."
She studied me for a moment with those golden eyes that saw too much, then walked to the kitchen. A few minutes later, she set a mug of something warm on the table beside me.
Hot chocolate. The expensive kind.
"...drink."
I did. It helped, a little.
Asia woke up at 7:34 a.m.
I knew the exact time because I'd been watching the clock, counting the seconds, trying not to think about anything else. When she sat up on the couch where she'd fallen asleep, rubbing her eyes with the confused expression of someone who'd forgotten what world they were in, I felt something loosen in my chest.
She was alive. That was real. That was something I hadn't imagined.
"Good morning," she said, her voice still thick with sleep. "I had the strangest dream. There were wings, and lightning, and..."
She trailed off. Looked at her hands. At the ORC building around her. At the unfamiliar faces watching her with careful concern.
"It wasn't a dream."
"No." Rias descended the stairs, already dressed, already composed. The king of this peerage and everything that implied. "It wasn't. How do you feel?"
Asia pressed a hand to her chest. "Different. Like there's something new inside me. Something that wasn't there before."
"The Bishop piece. Part of me, now part of you." Rias sat across from her, elegant even in the morning light. "The transition can be disorienting. If you need anything - "
"I should pray."
The words came out automatic, instinctive. Asia's hands folded together, her eyes closing, her lips beginning to move in familiar patterns.
Then she gasped.
Her hands flew apart. She pressed them to her temples, wincing.
"Ow. Ow ow ow."
"Devils can't pray." Kiba had appeared from somewhere, already dressed in his school uniform, already perfect. "The act of worship causes physical pain. One of the many adjustments."
Asia stared at him. At her hands. At Rias.
"I can't... ever again?"
"The Church is no longer your ally." Rias's voice was gentle but firm. "They would see you as a monster now. An abomination to be destroyed."
"But I just wanted to thank God for - "
Another wince. Smaller this time, but visible.
" - for saving me."
Silence. Awkward, heavy silence.
Koneko broke it. She walked over to the couch and sat beside Asia, close but not touching.
"...devils thank each other. Family."
Asia looked at her. At this small, stoic girl offering something like comfort.
"Family?"
"...yes."
Something shifted in Asia's expression. The confusion fading, replaced by something fragile and hopeful.
"I've never really had one of those."
Koneko didn't respond. But she didn't move away, either.
I left them to it.
The bonding, the explanations, the careful process of helping a former nun understand that her entire worldview had just been rewritten. I should have stayed. Should have helped. Should have been part of the support system Asia clearly needed.
Instead, I found myself in one of the back rooms, sitting on the floor with my phone in my hands.
The screen glowed in the dim light. A simple interface. A list of voicemails I'd never deleted.
Mom - May 15th, 4:32 PM
The last one she'd left before I died. Before the truck. Before the Fragment and the system and everything that came after.
I pressed play.
Static.
Not silence. Static. Like a television between channels, like white noise, like the universe had taken her voice and replaced it with entropy.
"...proud of you, sweetheart. I know the job market is..."
The words were there. Subtitles playing in my memory. But the voice, the actual sound of her, was just fuzz.
I played it again.
Static.
Again.
Static.
Again.
The Fragment stayed silent. No commentary. No observations about efficiency or cost or the nature of sacrifice. Just silence, stretching on while I listened to static loop and loop and loop.
I didn't realize I was crying until the tears hit the phone screen.
"Ryder."
Rias's voice. Quiet. Close.
I looked up. She stood in the doorway, backlit by morning sun, her expression unreadable.
"How long have you been standing there?"
"Long enough." She walked into the room, her footsteps soft on the hardwood floor. "I heard static from the hallway. I thought there might be a problem."
I wiped my face with the back of my hand. Dignity was overrated anyway.
"No problem. Just checking something."
She sat beside me. Not close enough to touch, but close enough to feel. The scent of her perfume, old books and something like starlight, drifted in the small space between us.
"The voicemail?"
I nodded.
"She's gone."
Another nod. Words felt too heavy.
Rias didn't ask questions. Didn't push. She just sat there, a warm presence in the dim room, letting the silence stretch until it wasn't suffocating anymore.
Eventually, she spoke.
"After the Rating Games with my brother when I was younger, I used to hide in my mother's closet. It still smelled like her perfume, even though she'd been gone for years." A pause. "Some losses don't heal. They just become part of you."
I looked at her. At the vulnerability beneath the composure.
"Why are you telling me this?"
"Because you're not alone. Even when it feels like you are." She met my eyes. "Whatever you're carrying, whatever it cost you to save Asia, you don't have to carry it by yourself."
The Fragment stirred. Warning me, maybe. Reminding me of secrets and currency and the value of keeping things close.
But in that moment, with Rias beside me and the ghost of my mother's voice still echoing as static, I wanted to tell her everything.
I didn't.
But I wanted to.
"Thank you," I said instead. "For understanding."
She smiled. Small, sad, real.
"That's what family does."
Lunch happened whether I was ready for it or not.
The peerage gathered in the main room, arranged around a table laden with food that Akeno had apparently produced from thin air. Sandwiches and rice balls and something that looked like expensive sushi.
"Eat," Akeno commanded, her smile sharp enough to cut. "You fought well last night. Fuel is required for warriors."
I took a plate. Ate without tasting. My body needed calories even if my mind was somewhere else.
Asia sat between Koneko and Kiba, her green eyes wide as she tried to navigate chopsticks. She'd changed into a spare uniform, one of Rias's old ones adjusted to fit, and looked almost normal.
Almost.
"Like this." Kiba demonstrated the proper grip, patient and precise. "The lower stick stays stationary. The upper one moves."
Asia tried. Failed. Tried again.
"Perhaps a fork would be more appropriate for your first devil meal," Kiba suggested diplomatically.
"No." Asia's jaw set in determination. "I can learn. I'm part of the peerage now. I should eat like the peerage eats."
Koneko reached over and placed a rice ball directly in Asia's hand.
"...finger food. Also traditional."
Asia stared at the rice ball. Then at Koneko. Then she laughed, bright and genuine, and took a bite.
The tension in the room eased.
Not gone. But better.
"So." Akeno settled into her chair with feline grace, a cup of tea steaming in her hands. "The new Bishop. Twilight Healing is quite the Sacred Gear. Ara ara, I look forward to being healed after training sessions."
"Training sessions?" Asia's voice held a note of alarm.
"Of course. You're a devil now. Devils fight." Akeno's smile widened. "Don't worry. I'm sure the lightning won't hurt too much."
"The lightning?"
"Akeno." Rias's tone carried warning. "Perhaps save the training talk for later. Asia's been through enough for one morning."
"Just building anticipation, Buchou." Akeno sipped her tea, unrepentant.
I watched them. The banter. The easy familiarity. The way they wove Asia into their patterns like she'd always been there.
Found family, the Fragment had called it once. A strange concept for an ancient entity that had never been human.
But watching them now, I understood what it meant.
These people had saved my life. Had fought beside me. Had bled for a girl none of them really knew, simply because it was the right thing to do.
They were family.
And I was keeping secrets from them.
The afternoon brought school.
Not for me, thankfully. The cover story placed me as a transfer student who hadn't officially enrolled yet, which meant I got to skip classes while Asia was introduced to Kuoh Academy's student body.
I spent the time in the ORC building, surrounded by empty rooms and my own thoughts.
Which was worse than classes would have been.
I found myself pacing. Organizing. Straightening books on shelves that didn't need straightening, aligning papers on desks that didn't matter.
Each item placed at precise right angles. Each stack perfectly aligned.
I stopped. Stared at my hands.
Where did that come from?
Kiba. His influence bleeding through. The way he maintained his equipment, his room, his life with military precision.
The Echo. Still at 12%, supposedly safe, but already changing me in ways I didn't notice until after.
The Fragment hummed.
"Grief is inefficient. But human."
I jumped. The Fragment had been silent for hours, a respectful distance that I hadn't expected.
Now you talk.
"You needed the silence. Processing requires space. But the processing is complete, is it not? You have grieved. You have felt. Now you must decide."
Decide what?
"Whether to drown in loss or swim toward purpose. The voice is gone. The mother remains in memory if not in sound. What you do with that absence is yours to choose."
I wanted to be angry. Wanted to rage at the clinical assessment, the cold calculation of grief as a process to be completed.
But the Fragment wasn't wrong.
Mom was gone. Had been gone since the truck hit, really. The voicemail was just a reminder, a ghost of connection to a life that no longer existed.
Her voice was silent now. But the words remained. The lessons. The love.
I could hear static forever. Or I could remember what she'd said instead of how she'd said it.
Be careful. Come home safe. I'm proud of you.
The words settled in my chest like stones. Heavy, but real. Something to hold onto.
She'd want me to move forward.
"Yes. She would."
You didn't know her.
"No. But I know you. And the part of you that came from her is stronger than the part that wants to break."
I stood in the empty room, organizing things that didn't need organizing, and felt something shift.
Not healing. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
But acceptance. The beginning of it, anyway.
The peerage returned at sunset.
Asia practically bounced through the door, her exhaustion from the morning replaced by something approaching excitement.
"School is amazing! There are so many people and they were all so nice and Koneko showed me where the cafeteria is and Kiba helped me find my classes and - "
"Breathe," Rias interrupted, smiling.
" - and apparently I'm already popular because I'm new and pretty which feels strange to hear but everyone kept saying it and - "
"Asia." Rias's hand on her shoulder. Grounding. "Breathe."
Asia stopped. Breathed. Smiled sheepishly.
"Sorry. I've just never had this before. A normal school. Normal friends. Normal... anything."
"It won't always be normal." Akeno's voice carried a warning that her smile softened. "We hunt stray devils. We fight supernatural threats. Being in this peerage means danger."
"I know." Asia's smile didn't waver. "But danger with friends is better than safety alone. I learned that at the church."
Something crossed Akeno's face. Recognition, maybe. Understanding.
"Well then." She clapped her hands together. "Light training tonight. Nothing too strenuous. Our new Bishop needs to understand her limits."
"I'll observe," I said. "Still recovering."
Rias nodded. "The battles took a toll on everyone. Rest is acceptable."
But her eyes lingered on me a moment longer than necessary. Concern beneath the composure.
She knew something was wrong beyond physical exhaustion.
She just didn't know what.
Training happened in the space behind the ORC building. A cleared area, warded against observation, where supernatural powers could be exercised without alerting the human population.
Asia's Sacred Gear glowed as she practiced. Twilight Healing, damaged but functional, producing a green light that mended cuts and bruises with a touch.
She healed Koneko's scraped knuckle.
"...tickles."
She healed Kiba's training cut.
"Most efficient. Thank you, Asia."
She tried to heal Akeno's lightning burns.
"Ara ara, leave those. I rather enjoy the reminder."
I watched from the sidelines, tracking their movements, their interactions, the way the peerage worked as a unit.
The Fragment observed with me.
"The Bishop's addition strengthens your tactical options. Dedicated healing allows extended combat duration."
She's not a tactical option. She's a person.
"She is both. As are you. As is everyone in this peerage. People who can be calculated, predicted, deployed."
You're a real ray of sunshine, you know that?
"I am a Fragment of something that was never sunshine. But I am honest. The girl is an asset. Your attachment to her is also an asset. Motivation sharpens performance."
I didn't have a response to that.
The training wound down as darkness fell. Asia, exhausted but smiling, healed her own fatigue with a careful application of Twilight Healing.
"Is that allowed?" Kiba asked, curious. "Healing oneself?"
"I'm not sure." Asia examined her hands. "But it worked. I feel better."
"Self-healing Sacred Gears are rare." Rias watched with analytical interest. "Perhaps the damage from the extraction altered its parameters. We'll need to test the limits carefully."
"Testing!" Asia's enthusiasm was infectious. "I like testing. It feels like being useful."
She was going to be okay. Different, changed, but okay.
Some of us would be.
Evening.
The peerage dispersed. Akeno to her shrine. Kiba to the sword practice he used for meditation. Koneko to wherever Koneko went when she wasn't being observed.
Asia fell asleep on the couch again, her breathing soft and steady.
Rias found me on the roof.
"You're making a habit of this," she said, settling beside me on the cold tiles.
"Best view in the building."
"Liar. You come up here to think."
She wasn't wrong.
We sat in silence for a while. The stars overhead, strange and familiar at once. The town below, quiet and unsuspecting.
"You're handling this well," she said eventually. "Most new pieces take weeks to adjust. You've been fighting at full capacity almost since the beginning."
"I had motivation."
"Asia?"
"All of you."
Something shifted in her expression. Softened.
"We're your peerage now. Your family. Whatever you face, you face with us."
The words echoed her earlier offer. Whatever you're carrying. Whatever it cost.
I looked at her. At the concern in her crimson eyes. At the way she sat close enough to touch but didn't push.
She deserved the truth.
Tell her.
I opened my mouth.
"Secrets are currency," the Fragment whispered. "Spend them wisely."
I closed my mouth.
"I know," I said instead. "And when I'm ready, I'll tell you everything."
Rias studied me for a long moment. Then she nodded.
"I can wait."
She stood. Paused at the roof's edge.
"Whatever you're carrying, Ryder, you don't have to carry it alone."
Then she was gone, and I was left with the stars and the silence and the Fragment's satisfied hum.
"Well handled. The bond strengthens even as the secret remains. Efficient."
I should have told her.
"Perhaps. But not yet. There is value in waiting. In knowing when revelation serves and when it endangers."
And you get to decide that?
"You decide. I merely advise."
I looked up at the unfamiliar constellations. At the world that wasn't my world. At the life that wasn't my life but was becoming something new.
Mom's voice was gone. The sound of it, the warmth, the tone, erased like it had never existed.
But her words remained.
Be careful. Come home safe. I'm proud of you.
I held onto them. Let them settle in my chest beside the grief and the determination and the slow, creeping realization that I was changing in ways I couldn't control.
Tomorrow would bring new challenges. New costs. New prices to pay.
But tonight, I had a roof and stars and the memory of words without voice.
It would have to be enough.
Later, much later, I descended to find Asia still asleep on the couch.
She murmured something in her dreams. A name, maybe. Someone from before.
I pulled a blanket over her. A small gesture. Meaningless, probably.
But she smiled in her sleep.
And for one moment, the silence didn't feel quite so heavy.
"I know," I said to no one. To Rias's earlier question. To the Fragment's advice. To the weight pressing down on my shoulders.
"I know."
But I didn't tell her. Couldn't. Not yet.
The Fragment hummed, satisfied.
"Secrets are currency," it whispered. "Spend them wisely."
I had a feeling I'd regret that advice.