## One
After school. The Disciplinary Committee office.
Kyoya Hibari sat behind his desk, working through the week's campus patrol reports. The setting sun dyed the entire office a deep orange-red, and the air carried the cool edge of autumn along with the distant crack of aluminum bats from the baseball club's practice.
Three knocks at the door.
"Come in."
The door opened.
Issei Hyoudou stood in the doorway with the expression of a student summoned to the principal's office — nervous, unsettled, but carrying some ill-timed resolve. Behind him, Asia Argento peeked around the doorframe with both hands pressed together at her chest, her wide green eyes full of pleading.
Hibari's gaze moved from the report to Issei. Held for one second. Moved back to the report.
"Something you need?"
Issei drew a deep breath. He'd practiced all last night — how to open, what phrasing to use, whether to build up to it, whether to compliment the Disciplinary Committee Chairman's strength first. Matsuda and Motohama had drafted three versions of the pitch, ranging from "rational analysis" to "passionate appeal" to "get on your knees and beg."
In the end he'd gone with a fourth version — just say it.
"Hibari. Please join the Rating Game."
Silence.
Hibari turned a page.
Issei pressed on, his words coming faster: "The match in ten days — our president is fighting Riser Phoenix. You saw it yourself. That guy has fifteen peerage members. We only have five people — six counting you. Your strength—"
"Not interested."
"You haven't heard me out—"
"I have." Hibari set the report down. "Since you walked in, your heart rate has been at 162. Your breathing is forty percent faster than normal. Your left foot is shaking. You're nervous. Which means you already know you're asking for something impossible."
Issei's left foot was, in fact, shaking. He forced himself to stand still.
"I know you don't care about some engagement or some match rules. I'm not expecting you to fight for the president's sake. But—"
He paused.
"Didn't you say it yourself? That Phoenix guy. He bothered you."
Hibari's fingers went still on the page.
Issei felt that fraction of a pause and pressed his advantage: "If you join the match, you could—"
"Issei Hyoudou."
Hibari stood up.
Issei's words lodged in his throat.
"You're using someone else's business to convince me." Hibari came around the desk and stopped in front of Issei. Less than a meter away. Gray-blue eyes looked down at him from above. "But what are you?"
"Wh — what do you mean—"
"Your strength isn't enough to beat that man."
No mockery in it. No contempt. Just a calm, almost brutal statement of fact.
"You can't even fight your own fight. And you're here trying to drag someone else in?"
Issei clenched his fists. He knew Hibari was right — that was exactly what made it so hard to swallow.
"Then—"
"Go train."
Hibari's right hand drew the tonfa from his sleeve.
Too fast. Issei only caught a silver blur — and then a massive impact hit him in the stomach. His feet left the ground. He flew out of the Disciplinary Committee office like he'd been launched, across the hallway, and into the wall on the other side.
A crash.
A human-shaped dent appeared in the wall.
"Issei—!"
Asia rushed over, pressed both hands to his abdomen, and green light surged out immediately. Her healing ability activated, and warm restorative energy flooded into Issei's body. The torn muscle fibers knit back together rapidly.
Issei lay slumped in the dent, coughing up a mouthful of blood.
"Ugh… that hurts…"
He lifted his head and looked toward the Disciplinary Committee office.
The door was already closed.
The Occult Research Club.
When Issei walked into the clubroom with Asia supporting him, everyone immediately noticed the bloodstain on his uniform and the crumpled fabric.
"Issei! What happened to you!" Rias shot up from the couch.
"Uh… I tripped."
Silence.
Yuuto Kiba tilted his head. Koneko stopped chewing. Akeno Himejima hid the corner of her mouth behind her fan, but her eyes were laughing.
"You… tripped… and ended up like that?" Rias walked over and checked his abdomen. Asia's healing had already repaired the surface wounds, but the bloodstain on his uniform and the human-shaped dent in the hallway wall weren't going anywhere.
"He went to see Hibari," Asia said quietly.
The room went silent for three seconds.
"…Ah." Kiba was the first to understand. "To ask him to join the match?"
Issei nodded. His expression was that of someone who'd swallowed a whole lemon.
"And his answer was one tonfa strike?"
Issei nodded again.
Akeno lowered her fan and laughed softly. "That's gentler than I expected. I figured he'd at least hit twice."
"You call that gentle?!" Issei pointed at his midsection.
"If he'd been serious, you wouldn't be standing here right now." Koneko said it without inflection, then pushed the last cookie into her mouth.
Rias sighed. She settled back onto the couch, fingers laced over her knees.
"I told you not to push him."
"But President—"
"Kyoya Hibari does not fight for other people's reasons." Her green eyes drifted toward the window. The sun was going down, and the old school building's courtyard stood empty. "He only fights the battles he chooses. What we can do — is make ourselves strong enough to win this match on our own. Without him."
She stood.
"Starting tomorrow, final sprint of mountain training. Everyone be ready."
## Two
That same evening.
Hibari left school half an hour later than usual. Not because of Issei — that matter had occupied his attention for no more than three seconds. It was because today's patrol report contained an anomalous entry: traces of unidentified magical residue had been detected near the north perimeter wall.
He walked the small path along the north side of campus toward the main gate. The sun had fully sunk below the horizon. The sky was a deep violet-blue, with the last thread of orange still clinging to a distant ridgeline.
Then he caught a scent.
Not Rias's moonlight scent. Not the mixed demonic aura that clung to Issei's group.
This one was more—
Clean.
Like air that had been purified by fire. Warm, with a mineral undertone. Not sharp, but impossible to ignore. Like standing at the foot of an active volcano and feeling the heat from deep underground, still far away.
He stopped.
Standing beside the stone pillar at the school gate was a person.
Golden hair. Deep violet eyes. She wore a well-tailored dark blue dress with an ivory-white coat draped over it. Her posture was straight, hands folded naturally in front of her. She looked like a figure from a Renaissance portrait that had stepped through a crack in time and into the entrance of a modern Japanese high school.
No attendants behind her. No guards. No residual glow from a transportation circle.
Alone.
Hibari recognized her.
A few days ago at the Occult Research Club — among the fifteen peerage members the red-haired man had brought, she had been the one sitting in the farthest corner, never standing, watching quietly from start to finish.
Someone from the Phoenix family.
"Good evening."
She spoke. Her voice was clear and steady, carrying a composure that didn't match her apparent age. Not a social pleasantry — the kind of first words someone says only after deciding the other person is worth addressing.
"I'm Ravel Phoenix. Riser's younger sister."
She inclined her head slightly. Not a submissive bow — the way someone of noble blood acknowledges a person they've deemed worthy of respect.
"I'd like a few minutes of your time."
Hibari didn't stop walking.
He walked right past Ravel.
As though she weren't there.
Ravel showed no surprise. She didn't even turn to watch him go. She simply stood where she was, and the corner of her mouth lifted by a fraction.
"In the fight at the club — you held off three mid-ranking demons simultaneously for thirty-five exchanges."
Hibari's footsteps didn't stop.
"Shuriya is my brother's strongest Rook. Karamein and Siris are his twin Knights. Combined, their combat power ranks in the top ten among the younger generation of peerage members."
Footsteps echoed on the stone path. Steady. Even. No sign of stopping.
"And you weren't using demonic power. Pure physical ability and weapon technique."
Ravel's voice wasn't loud, but every word landed as though carved into the air.
"That made me curious — where is your limit?"
The footsteps continued.
Hibari was already more than ten meters away.
Ravel drew a slow breath. She knew conventional approaches wouldn't work on this person. Flattery wouldn't work. Analysis wouldn't work. Presenting combat statistics wouldn't work.
So she said what she actually meant.
"Kyoya Hibari."
She raised her voice slightly. Not a shout — a declaration that refused to be ignored.
"You don't belong to the Gremory family. You won't belong to anyone. That much I can see clearly."
The footsteps didn't stop. But their rhythm slowed, almost imperceptibly, for a fraction of a second.
Ravel caught it.
"So I'm not here to invite you onto anyone's board."
Her voice changed. The noble daughter's restraint was gone. The analyst's detachment was gone. Something more personal, more real, took their place.
"I'm here to ask you — have you ever thought about what it would feel like to stand beside someone who's your equal?"
Wind moved through the ginkgo trees at the school gate. Golden leaves spun through the air between them.
The footsteps stopped.
Hibari didn't turn around. He stood on the stone path fifteen meters from Ravel, his coat lifting slightly in the wind.
"Not a hierarchy. Not master and servant. Not a piece and a player."
Ravel took one step forward. Just one.
"Two people who've each reached their own peak, choosing to stand on the same line."
Silence.
The night wind came from the direction of the campus, carrying the smell of earth and fallen leaves. Stars had begun to appear overhead. In the distance, the last train of the evening sounded its horn.
Hibari turned his head.
Not his whole body — just his face, at an angle. A quarter profile. Gray-blue eyes cast back over his shoulder, crossing fifteen meters of distance, landing on Ravel.
He looked at her for three seconds.
In those three seconds, Ravel felt the weight of that gaze. Not an appraisal. Not an evaluation. Something more like—
Acknowledgment.
The way a top-tier predator looks, for the first time, at another predator. Not hostility. Not warmth. The simple confirmation of a fact: *you exist within my awareness now.*
Then he looked away.
And kept walking.
The footsteps resumed — steady, even — and gradually faded into the dark.
Ravel stood at the school gate. A few strands of golden hair had come loose in the wind. She didn't bother fixing them. Her violet eyes followed the silhouette dissolving into the darkness, and the curve at the corner of her mouth deepened.
"He stopped."
She said it quietly. To herself.
"He listened to everything I said, and then he stopped."
For Kyoya Hibari, that was already a remarkable response.
She turned, reached into her pocket, and produced a coin engraved with the Phoenix family crest. She flicked it — the coin spun in the air, then became a tongue of flame that tore open a transportation circle.
Before she stepped through, she looked one last time at the empty stone path.
"Next time we meet — it'll be on the board, I suppose."
She smiled.
"Though you probably won't follow the board's rules."
The flames swallowed her. The school gate fell quiet. Only a few golden ginkgo leaves remained, slowly spinning on the stone path.
## Three
The day of the Rating Game.
Kuoh Academy. 4:27 p.m.
The campus was deserted. It was Sunday — no students, no faculty, no club activities. Only the window of the Disciplinary Committee Chairman's office still had its light on.
Kyoya Hibari sat behind his desk.
What was spread open on the desk wasn't a patrol report. It was a thread-bound notebook with no markings on the cover. His fingers turned a page — covered in notes written in his precise, even hand:
> Rook characteristics: attack power doubled, defense power doubled. Stacks on top of existing base stats. > Confirmed current limit: after 35 consecutive exchanges, stamina consumption approximately 40%. > To verify: is the Rook power ceiling a fixed value, or does it scale with the user's growth?
> Rias Gremory: annihilation demonic power. Area-of-effect type. Destroys on contact. > Range, activation time, cooldown — insufficient data. Requires another engagement.
He turned to the last page. Blank.
He picked up his pen and wrote one line at the top of the page:
> Ravel Phoenix.
The pen paused for a second. Then he wrote a second line beneath it:
> "Two people who've each reached their own peak, choosing to stand on the same line."
He looked at that line for two seconds.
Then he turned the page.
4:30 p.m.
A massive surge of magical energy came from the direction of the old school building.
Hibari's pen stopped.
Not Rias's power alone — many people's. Dense, complex, like many differently colored threads woven together into a single field. A transportation circle. Large-scale.
He caught the Phoenix family's scent. Fire-purified air.
Then another scent — deeper, older. Like the smell given off by books in the deepest part of a library, books that had never been opened.
The Gremory main family.
"The Rating Game."
He said it to himself. No interest in his voice. Just confirmation of a fact.
He kept writing in the notebook.
4:45 p.m. The magical fluctuations stabilized. The battlefield appeared to have been set — a spatially isolated bounded field. From here he could feel the entire spatial structure of the old school building area being warped, as though someone had folded a piece of cloth and stuffed a complete battlefield into the fold between the layers.
Hibari didn't go look.
He kept writing notes.
5:03 p.m.
The air in the Disciplinary Committee office changed.
Hibari's pen stopped on the page. His nose caught something off — the quality of the space had shifted. Like an invisible door was opening, connecting this office to somewhere else.
The floor beneath him trembled faintly.
Then—
Light.
Red light rose up from the floor. Complex geometric patterns, ancient script, interlocking magical formation lines. In an instant, the entire floor of the Disciplinary Committee office became a massive transportation circle.
This wasn't aimed at him.
This was the spatial expansion of the Rating Game battlefield — the entire Kuoh Academy campus had been encompassed within the battlefield's range. And the Disciplinary Committee office happened to fall within that range.
White light swallowed everything.
When the light faded, Hibari found himself still sitting behind his desk.
The desk was unchanged. The chair was unchanged. The window was unchanged. The notebook on the desk was still open to the same page.
But the air had changed.
Scent, temperature, humidity, air pressure — all of it was different. The sky outside had shifted from the orange-red of evening to a uniform gray-white, as though someone had draped an enormous curtain over it. The distant ridgeline was gone, replaced by a blurred, featureless boundary.
An artificial space.
Hibari stood and walked to the window.
From here he could see the full campus — but the campus no longer looked like itself. Several structures that had no business existing had appeared on the athletic field. A red flag flew from the gymnasium roof, bearing the Phoenix family's flame crest. And from the direction of the old school building, a deep crimson Gremory family banner flew from the rooftop.
Then he heard the sounds.
Metal clashing. Explosions. Thunder. The hiss of flames burning through air. Shouts and commands from what were technically humans — no, demons.
The battle had already begun.
Hibari leaned against the window frame and closed his eyes.
He didn't care who was fighting whom. Didn't care who won or lost. Didn't care about any engagement, any family politics, any Rating Game rules.
But—
It was too loud.
This was his school. His Disciplinary Committee office. His territory.
Someone was fighting a war on his territory, and they were disturbing him.
He didn't move.
He could tolerate it. For now.
5:11 p.m.
Footsteps. Three sets. Moving up from the first floor of the academic building.
Hibari's eyes opened.
The scent — Phoenix family's flame undertone. Three low-ranking peerage members. Judging by the rhythm and weight of the steps, all female.
They were searching the building floor by floor.
The footsteps passed through the second-floor hallway, pausing for a few seconds at each classroom door to check inside, then continuing upward.
Third floor.
The floor where the Disciplinary Committee office was located.
The footsteps drew closer. They stopped at the end of the hallway.
"Last one." A low female voice. Professional tone. "Push it open."
The door was pushed open.
Three women in black-and-white maid uniforms stood in the doorway. White lace headpieces, black long skirts, gloves — standard Phoenix household servant attire.
Shuriya. Maryon. Brent.
Three Pawn pieces belonging to Riser Phoenix.
They saw Kyoya Hibari.
He was sitting in his office chair, pen in hand, gray-blue eyes looking up at them from above the notebook.
Expression flat. Like someone had knocked on his door while he was writing.
"…A Gremory peerage member?" Shuriya's hands were already gathering flames. "This person isn't in the files."
"Doesn't matter who he is." Brent shifted into a combat stance. "Anyone within the battlefield boundary is a valid target. Three on one — finish it fast."
Hibari set down his pen.
"You're standing on the floor of the Disciplinary Committee office."
The three of them blinked.
"And—" He stood, picking up the tonfa from the desk in one fluid motion, smooth as a complete sentence, "your uniforms are not regulation."
First strike.
Shuriya's fireball hadn't fully formed — the tonfa was already there. A horizontal sweep. It hit her right wrist with precision, and the flames collapsed instantly. A second follow-up strike, the tip catching her under the chin.
Her body flew out through the doorframe and hit the wall across the hallway.
One second.
Maryon's three fire whips came simultaneously — Hibari blocked the first with the tonfa, caught the second with his bare left hand. The burning pain registered as only a faint redness under the Rook's defense. He pulled.
The instant Maryon was yanked forward, the tonfa swung horizontally into her ribs. Her body crashed through the hallway window.
Two seconds.
Brent turned to run. Hibari's hand caught her collar, and the tonfa came down from above — a precise strike landing on her shoulder blade.
Three seconds. Three people.
*Riser Phoenix's side — three Pawns eliminated.*
The referee's voice echoed through the artificial space. The three maids' bodies dissolved into particles of light and were transported out of the battlefield.
Hibari looked at his left hand — the area burned by the fire whip was already beginning to heal.
He walked back to his desk. Prepared to sit down.
Another explosion came from the direction of the athletic field. The window glass shook.
Then more explosions. Flames. Thunder. Metal clashing. Shouting.
Hibari looked at the shaking glass.
What flickered in his eyes wasn't a sense of justice. Wasn't concern.
It was irritation.
Pure irritation.
"…Too loud."
He picked up the tonfa and kicked open the door of the Disciplinary Committee office.
## Four
Hallway. Staircase. First-floor lobby.
Hibari pushed open the academic building's front door and walked out into the campus under the gray-white sky.
The air was saturated with the residue of magical conflict — fire, lightning, metal, blood. A rapid chain of explosions came from the direction of the gymnasium. The athletic field was covered in shattered paving stones and torn-up ground.
He drew a slow breath.
His demonic sense of smell analyzed every scent in an instant—
Gremory side: Issei was near the gymnasium. Akeno was on the south side of the athletic field. Kiba was somewhere in the passages between school buildings. Koneko's scent was faint — she might be close to elimination. Asia was in the rear.
Phoenix side: at least eight distinct presences remaining.
He walked along the main path toward the athletic field. Unhurried. The tonfa rested on his shoulder, his coat snapping in the wind.
At the corner.
Two figures blocked the path.
Larger than ordinary humans. Muscle definition visible through their clothing. Pointed ears. Slit pupils. Claws where their hands should be.
Beastkin.
Nii and Rii — Riser's Pawn pieces.
"Another one?" Nii licked her lips. "There are still Gremory peerage members unaccounted for?"
"Don't recognize him. Rook scent." Rii's nose twitched. "Power's not especially high. Two on one — thirty seconds."
Hibari stopped five meters from them.
"You're in my way."
Nii charged first. A beastkin's burst speed ranked among the best of demon pieces. Five claw marks tore white afterimages through the air. First swipe — a horizontal slash at his waist.
Hibari stepped aside. The claws passed by his ear.
The tonfa came up from below — first strike caught Nii under the chin, second strike followed to her temple.
Nii flew back and hit the wall beside the passage. She didn't get up.
Two strikes. Under a second.
Rii crouched low, claws digging into the ground for a lunge. But Hibari had already moved. The Rook's leg strength was faster than a beastkin's reaction time.
She raised both claws in a cross-guard. The tonfa came down on the crossed claws — a sharp screech of metal against beast-claw.
She held it.
For an instant.
Hibari's left foot kicked the inside of her knee. Her center of gravity collapsed. In the 0.2 seconds her guard came apart, the tip of the tonfa struck her throat with precision.
Force calibrated to exactly enough to render her unconscious.
Rii went down.
*Riser Phoenix's side — two Pawns eliminated.*
Hibari pulled back the tonfa and kept walking.
Edge of the athletic field.
A new scent. Flames. Not the immortal phoenix fire of the Phoenix family — more concentrated, aggressively combustive.
Minamikaze. Riser's Bishop piece. She stood beside a flower bed, arms folded around a glowing formation circle. Rear-support type.
She saw Hibari.
"A Gremory Rook? Stop right there! One more step and—"
Hibari didn't stop.
Three pillars of fire shot from the formation in a fan pattern, covering every forward route. Hot enough to melt steel.
Hibari walked straight through the flames.
The Rook's defense. His skin absorbed the heat without burning. The edges of his clothing scorched slightly. His pace didn't change. His speed didn't change. His expression didn't change.
Minamikaze's face went white.
"Impossible — at that temperature—"
Hibari was already in front of her. One meter away. Tonfa. One strike. Precise impact to the abdomen.
Minamikaze's formation collapsed. The flames went out. Her body folded and hit the ground.
*Riser Phoenix's side — one Bishop eliminated.*
Hibari kept walking.
The system broadcast sounded.
*Rias Gremory's side — one Rook eliminated.*
Koneko.
Hibari's footsteps paused for a moment. Not concern — analysis. Koneko eliminated meant the Phoenix side had someone capable of suppressing a Rook piece.
He kept walking.
Another minute passed.
*Rias Gremory's side — one Knight eliminated.*
Kiba.
The Gremory side had Issei, Akeno, and Asia left. Three people against at least five remaining Phoenix pieces plus Riser himself.
Not good odds.
Not his problem.
Near the center of the athletic field.
Metal. Oil. Worn leather. The smell of a sword.
Karamein. Riser's Knight piece.
She held a two-handed sword — a real forged weapon, with use marks on the blade and leather on the grip soaked through with sweat and old blood.
Someone who took her weapon seriously.
"You're the one." Her eyes lit up. "The Rook who held off all three of us for thirty-five exchanges at the clubroom."
Hibari looked at her.
"Your sword is well maintained."
Karamein smiled. Among Riser's peerage, she was one of the few who genuinely loved combat.
"This time it's one on one. I learned something from last time."
"Did you."
Hibari raised the tonfa.
She moved first. Faster than before. A Knight piece's speed enhancement combined with her own technique — the blade left multiple afterimages. First strike: horizontal slash at his waist.
Hibari blocked. Metal rang out.
Second strike: overhead slash. Hibari stepped aside, the tip of the tonfa driving toward her wrist. Karamein pulled the sword back to defend — her reaction was faster than last time.
Twelve exchanges. Tonfa against two-handed sword. Every strike clean and decisive.
Thirteenth exchange. Hibari changed his rhythm.
The first twelve exchanges had been at a constant pace, and Karamein had adapted to it. On the thirteenth, his speed jumped thirty percent in an instant.
Karamein's sword was still moving to the old rhythm — the tonfa had already passed through her guard.
First strike to the right wrist. The sword left her hand. Second strike to the left shoulder. Her center of gravity shifted. Third strike—
Stopped. The tip of the tonfa halted one centimeter from her throat.
The two of them looked at each other for a second.
"You're strong." There was blood at the corner of Karamein's mouth, but the light in her eyes hadn't faded. "Stronger than last time."
"I'm not stronger than last time. Your sword couldn't keep up with your speed. Switch to something lighter and you'd be a much greater threat."
Karamein blinked. Then she laughed.
"You're giving me advice?"
"I'm stating a fact."
The tonfa tapped lightly against the side of her neck. Force precisely calibrated — just enough to take her out.
Karamein went down. Still smiling.
*Riser Phoenix's side — one Knight eliminated.*
Hibari kept walking.
## Five
The far end of the athletic field.
Two people were waiting for him.
The first — Shuriya. Riser's Rook. Black hair cut short, cold expression, Chinese-style combat attire. Her stance was extremely low, weight forward on the balls of her feet — ready to explode at any moment.
The second—
Golden hair. Violet eyes.
Ravel Phoenix.
Today she wore a dark robe with the Phoenix family crest embroidered at the collar and cuffs. No weapon in her hands, but a faint glow of magical energy drifted around them.
One close-range fighter, one mage. One Rook, one Bishop.
Hibari stopped fifteen meters from them.
The air between the three of them solidified.
"We've met." Shuriya's voice was like ice striking ice. "Last time someone interrupted. That won't happen this time."
Hibari wasn't looking at her.
He was looking at Ravel.
Ravel was looking at him.
Violet against gray-blue. The same exchange as that evening at the school gate. But today Ravel's eyes held none of the calculated composure from before.
Just pure anticipation.
"You came after all," Ravel said.
"Too loud," Hibari said.
Ravel laughed.
"Then let's — quiet things down?"
All three moved at once.
Shuriya's fist. Hibari's tonfa. Ravel's formation circle.
Three forces collided at the center of the athletic field—
And the ground shattered.