The walk back was awkward, to say the least.
He led them from a distance of several paces, far enough for the sound of his own footsteps to drown out those of Gremory's group. The oppressive atmosphere had made it a difficult task to bridge the gap, physical or otherwise; with his assurances that it would not be a long trip being the only words spoken so far. As his surroundings became more familiar, he allowed his body to take over the habitual journey home while his mind toyed with various ideas of reconciliation.
Perhaps that was the wrong approach, though, as he'd certainly never had their trust in the first place. Introductions, then, coupled with the truth. The foundations of an amicable relationship.
"I imagine," he said, catching their attention, "that my side of things would be quicker to explain. As much as I would like answers; efficiency implores me to give them first."
He slowed his pace, until he was striding aside with Gremory and Kiba, and tried to ignore the icy smile he was receiving from Himejima behind him. Gremory was the quickest on the uptake, and her inquiry made him pause for its seeming simplicity.
"Who are you, really?"
The question was rather innocuous, yet invasive. He could just give her his name, but imagined it would be met with dissatisfaction. Fragmented question-and-answer was perhaps not the best solution to this ordeal. The others were looking at him expectantly, as if the answer he provided would somehow explain everything. He took advantage of their patience, and spent the next few seconds in silence, considering his next words.
"…Everything you know about me is most likely true, so there is actually quite little to explain. I own a gun, because of the nature of my work, so to speak. As I must provide for myself, I make a living by gambling. I'm quite good at it, so certain opponents tend to become upset. In those situations, a firearm serves for adequate intimidation. The church was happenstance; I was on my way home when I caught sight of three of you entering."
Wariness turned into scepticism, and they levelled him looks full of it, despite the fact that the tallest among them – Kiba and Gremory – remained half a head shorter than he.
"I find that rather hard to believe," stated Himejima, one eyebrow raised at his claims.
"I think I watched a movie like that recently," noted Hyoudou, and the rest nodded at the suitability of the comparison.
He was surprised; he'd expected disbelief, but thought it would be directed at his involvement during the church affair. It was, after all, the event he imagined would arouse the most suspicion. It seemed that they put more stock than he in coincidence.
An idea came to him; one to convince them of his story. It was perhaps not the optimal way to conceive an association with the devils, and certainly the method would have been dismissed by Schneizel without a second thought. His half-brother's game was one of diplomacy and manipulation, and while he himself had partaken of his own fair share of the two, he had been burned too often by repercussions of the latter to consider it as a major tool of his repertoire.
Schneizel had presented himself as an equal; the amiable comrade who shared in both defeat and victory. The image made him an excellent leader of men, and had thousands falling over themselves to curry favour with the affable prince. Such an approach was effective, and had very nearly cost him everything.
His own methods though, had won out in the end. Knowing he would not be able to be the drinking buddy; the friendly peer, he instead settled for the alternative. Crafting an image of superiority; he became the untouchable leader, the invulnerable Zero, inspiring admiration in man and woman alike, forsaking the bonds of camaraderie in favour of unshakeable faith.
Schneizel could keep his string-pulling and whispered words. He would simply make do with what had always been his by birth: theatrics and ingenuity.
Taking a long stride ahead and turning to face them all, he unzipped the bag hanging from his shoulder and angled it forwards, displaying its contents in full view, exaggerating the movement with a wave of his hand.
"Perhaps this would serve as proof? Tonight's winnings."
Eyes widened as they caught sight of the stacks of bills, bundled together and strewn about from the jostling the bag had received over the course of the night's activities. Hyoudou's were practically bulging, and for a brief, ridiculous moment, he thought the brunette might drop the girl he was carrying. Satisfied with the responses, he zipped the bag up and turned-
"Dude!" yelled Hyoudou, startling him and making him pause to look at the boy. The brunette had a massive grin on his face and was making a poor attempt at wild gesticulation, hampered by the body in his arms.
"Dude," he repeated, a little softer, "that's like…I mean, you have literal wads of cash!"
"I am aware of that," he replied, with a relaxed smile. "I did say I was very good."
Hyoudou continued to stare at him, something akin to admiration in his eyes. The boy's tongue darted out slightly, dampening his lips as they opened to form a hesitant question.
"Can I…can I hold one?"
His response was to open the bag slightly and take out a tightly bundled stack, holding it out towards the boy. Impossibly, Hyoudou's grin grew even wider as he stepped forward, handing his burden to Kiba, who rolled his eyes as he accepted the girl. Grabbing the wad with one hand, Hyoudou flicked through it with the thumb of the other, before bringing it up to his nose and sniffing deeply. With a contented sigh, the boy looked back at him, smile still plastered on his face.
"I have always wanted to do that!"
An opportunity presented itself, and he took it without hesitation.
"You can keep it, if you'd like."
Hyoudou looked as if he was trying his best to match the beam given off by the surrounding street lights. The sight of such unguarded joy certainly lifted the atmosphere, and he easily found himself thinking that his gift had been worthwhile.
"I am going to buy so much porn with this!"
…Still worthwhile.
Turning to continue walking, he was interrupted by a small tug of his sleeve by the elbow. He glanced down to find the golden orbs of Koneko Toujou gazing up at him. She looked surprised, as if the action had been involuntary, and stared at her offending hand with a small frown.
Bemused, he fished out another stack and placed it in her palm. He was treated to a small, delicate smile, and suppressed the urge to ruffle her white hair as he had done with Nunnally so many times.
"Koneko!" scolded Gremory, no doubt for her subordinate's audacity.
"Ah…" was Toujou's reply, as if she had suddenly realised something. Facing him, she gave a light bow. "Thank you."
"That's not what I meant!" exclaimed Gremory, who had folded her arms as if to prevent them from being thrown up into the air in exasperation.
To her credit, Toujou looked slightly uncomfortable, glancing between her benefactor and her superior, before finally settling her gaze upon the latter.
"…Buchou doesn't give enough snack budget."
He heard a snort from Kiba at the vaguely reproachful statement, and couldn't help but share in the sentiment. A soft rustle caught his attention, and he glanced at Hyoudou to see that the boy had removed the elastic binding to count the stack of money in his hands. The boy caught him staring, and flashed him a guilty smile before looking back down to continue his task.
Emboldened by the acceptance of his olive branch, he turned to the three who weren't holding a stack of bills, and extended them same offer.
"In the interests of fair play, would you happen to like one as well? I assure you, it would be no trouble. I do feel as if I owe you all for tonight's convoluted events." He gestured to the open bag, the contents having hardly been dented.
"I couldn't possibly," was Gremory's reply, even as Himejima said "I'm quite alright, thank you."
Both girls then threw accusatory looks at Kiba, whose mouth was open, despite failing to make a sound with it. The blonde closed his mouth, then opened it again, only to once more come up short.
He fixed the boy with an amused grin, and held out another stack of bills to the boy. Kiba handed the still-unconscious girl to Hyoudou, who had finished counting his money and was standing next to Toujou, who had started. The blonde then allowed him to drop the bundle into a waiting palm.
Leaving Kiba, who was looking at the cash on his palm as if he didn't know how it had gotten there, he retrieved two more stacks and tossed them in the directions of Gremory and Himejima. Both caught their respective projectiles out of surprise, and their mouths opened to form words of objection. Before they could, he interrupted.
"Think of it as payment for information. I value it far above any currency, and not simply because I have an excess of the latter."
Turning with slightly more flair than absolutely necessary, he continued to walk, replacing his previous distracted gait with confident strides. They made to follow, and light-hearted discussion broke out as Hyoudou regaled everyone with tales of future erotic purchases; making the offer to share, if anybody was so inclined.
They weren't.
The sound of conversation was accompanied by the soft patter of the group's footsteps, his own now indistinct among them. He very much doubted they would be entirely won over with money, of all things, but it had served as an ample peace offering. He found himself enjoying the cheerful atmosphere that had arisen due to the success of his opening gambit, and realised it was the best mood he'd entertained in a long while.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
The sound of the chess piece making contact with his desk was audible to only him, hidden to his leaving classmates by their own idle chatter. Several departing girls recognised the black king for what it was, between the transfer student's fingers, and resolved to learn the rules of chess when they returned home.
Lelouch used his left hand to wave his acquaintances off as they departed, right still occupied by its task as a makeshift metronome. His mind was occupied by other concerns; namely the revelations provided to him by Rias – as she'd insisted he call her – the previous night.
In retrospect, the base details proved simple. Devils and Angels, the latter of which consisted of both the divine and the damned, comprised the majority of this world's power base. Humanity had its own tools; the God-given Sacred Gears foremost among them, but remained unconsolidated, instead splitting its allegiance among the three main factions.
The existence of three, in fact, was a blessing. It allowed for a tentative balance, and though the current ceasefire looked unlikely to evolve into a peace treaty, no faction would act alone for fear of retribution returned twice-fold.
Supernatural power struggles were the least of his thoughts, however, and the majority of his 'lesson' had been littered with queries of the structure of Devil society. He would have preferred an equal understanding of the Angels, Fallen or otherwise, but acknowledged Rias' lack of expertise on the matter as unavoidable.
The noble hierarchy of hell's residents, despite having fewer intricacies and positions, held an unerring similarity to Britannia's system, and the Rating Games; grounded in chess as they were, piqued no little amount of his curiosity. This in fact, was what had led to Rias' discovery of his main hobby. He'd taken out a set to idly fiddle with the pieces as she talked, and the redhead's eyes had caught the motions of his habit immediately.
She and her group had been surprised when he'd led them to his residence, more than one member expressing their amusement at the fact that he lived in one of the utterly uninteresting, uniform houses that were all too common in Kuoh Town's suburban areas. Issei – again, called at the boy's insistence – had remarked that he wouldn't have been surprised if Lelouch lived in a penthouse apartment.
The notion was impractical, considering his reliance on public transport and simple walking, as Kuoh Academy was far removed from the city centre where the only such residences existed. He'd told the brunette as such, and the group seemed to find it hilarious that his only reason for not living in one was distance.
He withheld the detail that before he had moved into his current residence to gain easier access to the academy, he had indeed resided on the top floor of an apartment complex.
He suspected Rias was no stranger to extravagance herself though; quite the opposite in fact, in light of what she'd told him about her circumstances. Her mixed heritage from the Gremory and Bael clans held no small amount of sway in the political underworld, and he'd seen for himself the latter clan's hereditary power; the all-consuming void had fascinated him even as he watched her use it to devour the corpse of the late rogue exorcist, leaving no evidence of the conflict that had occurred.
Well, that wasn't entirely accurate. The priest's weapons he'd kept for himself, and they lay untouched in his residence until he could make further use of them.
In addition, Rias' brother Sirzechs served as the current Lucifer, one position among the four titles of Lucifer, Leviathan, Asmodeus and Beelzebub that acted as the pillars of Devil society. The triumvirate-plus-one - a correct description, according to Rias, citing the current Asmodeus' laziness as the reason – were of particular interest to him, as he'd never seen a successful example of such a governing system, much less a live one. The relative stability of the past few centuries, or so Rias claimed, were indicative of their leadership and administrative skills.
Speaking of administrative abilities…
"Lelouch Lamperouge."
The words were as jarring as the loud rattle of the sliding door that preceded them, but not entirely unexpected. His reason for remaining alone in the classroom at the end of the day stood sternly in the doorway threshold, a position that only reinforced her disciplined image. Short black hair styled into a bob-cut and oval glasses adorning her face, Kuoh Academy's student council president was best described as clinical and precise; two attributes he found a welcome change from Milly's overbearingness.
"Sona Sitri"
He didn't use the Japanese convention of placing the last name first, a by-product of the English lilt he'd used to pronounce it. The importance of the act was lost on neither of them. It signified an introduction, the preliminary steps to reconstruction of their shattered perceptions of one another. No longer Shitori Souna to him, she was now Sona Sitri, heir to the Sitri clan of the 72 Pillars.
Younger sister to the current Leviathan.
"If you would accompany me to the student council room? I do believe we have much to discuss."
The rhythmic tapping ceased, and he stowed the piece into his blazer pocket with exaggerated care, noting that her eyes – a shade of violet lighter than his – followed its journey the entire way. He stood gracefully, making his way to where she waited by the door.
"Lead the way."
The Church would not tolerate him; of that he was sure.
He could deceive them well enough though, joining their ranks in an effort to make contact with the Heavens. It would be trivial enough to take to the cloth, and spend his time as a member of their faith. Any sort of inclination he might have had to the idea – that is, none at all – was dissuaded by the circumstances of the recently deceased Freed Sellzen. The man had been a Stray Exorcist, excommunicated for the crime of murder of innocents.
That told him enough. The fact that the Church, instead of executing or imprisoning dissidents, sought only to distance themselves from them spoke volumes of their values of self-image and prestige. No, religion had never been his calling, much less the machinations of self-important old men. He did not need the red tape of bureaucracy slowing him down.
It was to be Devils, then, rather than Angels. Beings that respected cunning, ability, and most of all power. He lacked the latter, but didn't need it for them to lead him to the answers he sought, answers to questions of his revival and its purpose. In particular, he was quite interested in discourse with the current Beelzebub; Ajuka if memory served correct. The developer of the Evil Pieces and its resurrection system may yet be able to shed light on his situation.
In that, the Fallen were also to be considered. Rias had informed him that the leader of the disgraced Angels was a man by the name of Azazel, an accomplished scientist. He had no doubt the Fallen's erstwhile connection to God and research-inclined mind would provide answers matching that of Beelzebub, but with the Grigori, the problem lay in the cost of doing so. He had nothing to offer their faction that would match the worth of what he wanted in return. No Sacred Gear, no power; nothing he possessed could serve as an initial bargaining chip for the black-winged Angels that he had no means of contacting anyway.
Any attempts to affiliate himself with the fragmented human factions would meet the same problems, and the various other supernatural races and entities were too scattered to be of use. So, it was to be Devils. The only option left to him was paradoxically his best one. He could work the intricacies of their noble system with the ease of familiarity, navigating through the labyrinthine twist and turns of high society etiquette to get his answers.
Thus, plans were laid. Rias Gremory and her peerage seemed the obvious starting point, considering the heiress' position and his cordial relationship with the group. It wasn't even a bad option; time spent in their company was certainly more enjoyable than his usual dealings with the human underworld and the general school populace. Given enough of it, he could even see himself befriending the members of the Occult Research Club.
Sona Sitri, however, could provide him the best chance at success, in the least amount of time.
Which was why he was currently seated across from her, separated by a desk, and surrounded by the members of her peerage as they dealt with paperwork. One of them; the third year Tsubaki Shinra, he knew by name. The others, underclassmen, simply by faces recognised from crossed paths during the school day.
"Rias," began Sona," told me of last night's events."
He inclined his head to show he was listening. The pause in the sounds of pens across paper told him he wasn't the only one.
"However, before we discuss them, I would like to offer an… apology, of sorts."
His eyebrows raised. He heard a pen drop. Sona continued undeterred.
"Rias also informed me of your living circumstances. In light of them, I do not believe your witness to Asia Argento's resurrection would have been… a pleasant experience. I would apologise on her behalf, but she assures me she will do so at the next opportunity."
He didn't recall explicitly stating to the Occult Research Club that his parents were deceased, but it wouldn't have been a strenuous stretch of the imagination to connect the dots he'd laid out. With a slight start – though he didn't show it – he realised exactly what he was in the eyes of Sona Sitri. A tragic figure, life crippled by the death of his parents, turning to crime as a method of living.
Goodness, his life was fairly dramatic, wasn't it?
"Which brings me to my next point," continued Sona, taking his silence as acceptance, "and that is your agreement with her. It needs not be said that I fully intend to comply with it. The word of a clan heir is not so easily given. However, I cannot fathom your interests in remaining knowledgeable of our existence. Traditionally, the only ordinary humans that do so are those that contract devils. If you had wished to do so, I believe you would already have. In simple terms, Lelouch Lamperouge, what do you want?"
At that, her gaze turned expectant. It seemed Devils had a penchant for simple, catch-all questions.
"I simply want answers, Miss Sitri. To personal questions that are exceedingly important to me."
"And you believe Devils will assist you in this endeavour?"
"I believe they will help me assist myself."
Sona flashed him a look of approval – quite literally, as an adjustment of her glasses caused them to briefly reflect the light – and nodded once, as if to commit his words to memory.
"I can certainly respect your resolve. I must confess; my initial expectations thought much less of you. I am glad to see myself proved wrong. However…"
He waited patiently, knowing the crux of the exchange was about to occur.
"However, it does nothing to change the fact that you are ill-prepared to deal with our society, even if only at the fringes. Rias is an outlier; as am I, to a certain extent. You will be very hard pressed to find Devils who would willingly consort with a human that has nothing to proffer."
"Then, if I were to make you an offer, Miss Sitri?"
"I would ask you to state your terms, Lamperouge."
"A favour, granted unto me by making use of every resource at your disposal, if needed."
"That is no small feat. What do you hope to offer that would be of equal worth?"
"The opportunity to lose to me in a game of chess."
Apparently the owner of the dropped pen had retrieved it sometime during their conversation, for he was treated to the sound of it striking the floor again. Sona's features twitched once, almost imperceptibly, and her response came through a set of stiff lips.
"I see now that what I mistook for conviction was simple arrogance. No matter, I accept your terms, provided you acquiesce with my own."
"I would ask you to state your terms, Sitri."
The provocation present in the mockery of her words was no longer necessary, but he couldn't resist the final riposte. If it bothered her at all, she gave no indication.
"Upon your loss, you will swear to never again interfere with affairs beyond your ken. You will also submit yourself to the appropriate human authorities, where you will confess to all of your criminal activities."
"Agreed."
His response was sharp and immediate, slicing through the rigidity that had taken hold in her words. Realisation dawned in her eyes, and they flicked to the chest pocket of his blazer. Her countenance relaxed with a light sigh and she removed her glasses to rub at the bridge of her nose.
"It would appear my judgement has failed me for a third time in regards to you. Perhaps you are not as ill-suited to the workings of Devils as I had thought."
"I'll take that as a compliment. Did you have a particular time in mind for our match?"
"Tomorrow, after school. Expect to have an audience; I daresay Rias would have my head if I hid this from her."
"Then I look forward to it, Miss Sitri."
He punctuated the parting words by standing and making his way to the door, nodding his farewell to the other members of the council.
"Lelouch Lamperouge."
The words caught his attention as he reached for the door handle, and he waited for Sona to finish speaking.
"My opinions are with Rias on this matter. It will do you nor others any good if you intend to further involve yourself with Devils. No matter how capable you hold yourself to be. Nobody would think less of you if you skipped our match tomorrow."
Facing the door, he gave his response, back turned to the room and its occupants.
"I'm hardly a nobody, Miss Sitri," he quipped, and left without waiting for a response.
"You're insane."
He looked to where Kiba was sitting across from him. The boy's chopsticks were distracted from their purpose of retrieving food in favour of being pointed in his direction.
"Absolutely crazy."
Seeing that the words left him completely unperturbed, the blonde shook his head and tried again.
"Completely nuts."
He continued to eat his sandwich.
"I mean, I thought so when you pointed a gun to your head, but this just confirms it."
He had half a mind to commit this particular recipe to memory. He'd outdone himself today.
"I feel as if I'm beginning to run out of descriptions for your lunacy. Are you sure- "
Kiba was interrupted by the door to the classroom sliding open, causing the background noise of the school lunch break to rise in volume. Issei Hyoudou stood in the doorway, lunchbox in hand as his eyes scanned the room. Catching sight of the room's two occupants, the boy cracked a grin and strode towards them. He was interested to see that the brunette wasn't alone; trailing behind him into the classroom was Asia Argento, looking the healthiest he'd ever seen her.
Well, he'd only ever seen her dead or unconscious until now.
"Man," said Issei,"do you guys have to come all the way here every lunch break? Must be nice, having girls chase you around."
Kiba replied with bemusement, the reason for which he couldn't quite decipher.
"It's not really as great as you make it out to be."
Observing the brunette's companion, he found the reason for Kiba's tone. The blonde girl kept glancing at Issei, only to turn away each time, heavy blush on her face. Obviously, the boy hadn't noticed, and was currently in the process of seating himself at an empty desk, grumbling something about 'pretty boys'.
"Lelouch Lamperouge," he introduced himself to the only female in present company. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Asia Argento."
His words broke the girl out of her infatuated state and she turned to him startled, giving him an unobstructed view of her verdant green eyes. They seemed to recognise him, and subsequently disappeared from sight as she gave a deep bow.
"Thank you very much for what you did the night before! Issei told me you helped beat Father Sellzen. He… he was a very bad man."
"It was in self-defence. Your gratitude should go to your rescuers."
She rose from her bow and beamed at him as she sat by Issei and unpacked her own lunch. "You're a very nice person senpai," she said, confirming his inkling as to her year level. "Issei and Kiba told me so as well!"
He looked at the two mentioned, one of whom seemed embarrassed. The blonde gave him a shrug and an abashed grin. "You wouldn't believe how much it costs to import tools for sword maintenance. You really helped me out there."
"You can't purchase them domestically?" he inquired.
"Ah, I collect western-style swords. You're supposed to care for them slightly differently than Japanese ones."
The idle conversation continued as they ate, chatting about their respective hobbies and interests with the exception of Issei, whose long rants about the female body went mostly ignored. The boy was in the midst of a particularly heated comparison between the attributes of two his favourite idols when he was interrupted by Kiba's fist striking a desk. Surprised at the sudden noise, the three turned their attention to the perpetrator, who was now pointing an accusatory finger at him.
"I can't believe I forgot! You!"
"Me?" he asked with a grin, knowing full well what the blonde was talking about.
"You're insane!"
"That's not very nice Kiba-san," said Asia with a disapproving frown. "I think senpai is very smart."
The blonde shook his head, continuing the jabbing of his finger with renewed vigour. "You challenged Sona Sitri to a chess match!"
"Ah!" exclaimed Issei, undaunted by the interruption of his favourite subject. "Buchou told us about that. We'll be there to watch today. I, er, don't know the rules though."
"I can teach you Issei!" said Asia, smile brightening. "I'd be very happy to."
"Do you even know what happened to the last guy she played?" accused Kiba. Seeing his slight head tilt for the question it was, the blonde continued. "She crushed him. Completely. It wasn't even close, and he was supposed to be some sort of chess genius in the underworld."
"I appreciate your concern for me, but I assure you; I'll be fine."
The school bell rung, masking the sound of Kiba's sigh.
"I hope you know what you're doing."
"I'll play black."
His words were met with a terse nod of acceptance from his opponent. They were seated across from each other, the lacquered coffee table that separated them serving as the stage for their soon-to-be battlefield. Seated and standing around them were the entirety of two peerages, the numbers of both together falling three short of the sixteen that comprised a single side of the chequered board between the two players.
The clubroom around them, the main residence of the Occult Research Club, went ignored as all eyes focused on the black-and-white soldiers and their respective commanders. The armies were placed into position, and with Sona's advance of her king's pawn, the game begun.
The initial phase of the game was played methodically, systematically. Common moves and common responses, with neither player either willing or able to commit further. He was the first to break the stalemate, sending his queen onto the fringe of the board to gauge her reaction.
The steady rhythm they'd built crumpled slightly, strained by the ever-so-slightly extended pause as Sona processed the deviation. A white bishop developed, on the opposite side of the board. It was a delaying tactic, but one with no cost to her.
A dance began. He would attempt to lead, drawing her forward, even to the side. She would give, only as much as necessary, and proceed to change the very tune; to which he would switch step, still trying to guide her along. Casualties made themselves known, but unimportant ones. Probing bishops and sacrificial pawns.
The pauses between songs grew longer, the step changes less fluid. The first true trade was made, and a black knight retired from the board. It came to rest over a bishop and a pair of lost pawns whose compatriots had advanced one step further into enemy lines.
Sona Sitri, he could tell, played the song of the practised. Each interlude was spent in deliberation, taking influence from the venerated composers of old, twisting notes and bars with her personal flair. If he hadn't known better, he would've described it as artificial.
No machine could ever replicate the devil in front of him, though. To be sure, the moves could be copied, for all of chess' secrets have long since been discovered, but in this dance, timing was of equal importance as position or material. Computers did not wait for a reaction, minuscule as it may be, nor did they wait before making a move to destabilise an opponent.
Minutes stretched far into the double digits, and the room began to get restless. Whispers broke out, ignored by both players.
The breaking point was reached. Sona's queen moved, its first foray onto the board claiming the life of his last bishop. An unquestionable advantage in material. He made a superficial assault on her king, placing his own queen in position to check the turn after. She calmly castled in preparation.
Sona Sitri was a prodigy. What's more, she was a prodigy with experience and practice. He hesitated to use the word conventional, for though she played the traditional, she took it to the level of the unique.
But she was no Schneizel.
He'd grasped her tempo, now, and all that was left was to work it to his own needs. More of his pieces were lost; willingly, to suit his goal. His back line, decimated by white rooks and knights working in tandem with their ivory matriarch. His king was stripped of its protection slowly but surely; the members of the royal guard that didn't fall in the line of duty were advanced away by his own hand.
An interval occurred, on white's thirty-second turn. The game stagnated for a minute, then three, then five.
Every pair of eyes scanned the board, searching for the cause. They found the side that had once been black now displayed white, an ebony king and pawn the only remnants of the pieces that had begun there. They looked to the other side, the home of the white pieces, and found it divided as equally in colour as the patterned board beneath. Despite this…
"I've lost."
The words came quietly, but were no less impactful, opening the floodgates for hushed queries and explanations. More than one sigh of relief was heard. The game was played out for the sake of the spectators, and ended with the white king on its side, brought low by a black pawn, knight, and queen. Across the board, the black king stood enclosed but uncaptured.
It hadn't moved once.
The moment Serafall Leviathan made her entrance, half his plans for associating with her went out the window. Then she spoke, and he had the poignant mental image of the other half being doused in gasoline and set alight.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, Magical Girl Miracle Levia-tan has arrived!"
The sudden appearance was met with deafening silence as the entire room stared at the speaker. Twin tails of dark hair and the folds of a garish pink outfit fluttered as their owner twirled in the spot, coming to rest facing Sona. A baton was pointed into the air, one that somehow managed to be pinker than its owner's impractical clothes. It ended in a hoop that encompassed a bright yellow star.
The colours seemed shockingly out of place among the passive tones of the clubroom.
Sona broke the silence, her words sounding slightly forced. "Sister! It's good to see you. You didn't need to drop everything and come so soon, you know. It's nothing urgent."
"Nonsense!" refuted Serafall, shaking her wand at her sibling, "When my wonderful little sis contacted me after months of silence, how could I not drop everything to come see her right away? Ah, it's been so long since I've seen my adorable So-tan!"
Sona let out a noise halfway between a shriek and a whimper when Serafall ended her reunion words by leaping at her sister and crushing her in a hug, pairing cheek against cheek as she rubbed their faces together. The younger Sitri seemed to be completely at her sister's mercy, and was attempting her best rag-doll impression. The embrace, eventually, was broken, if only because the cheek rubbing made it difficult for Serafall to talk.
"So, what's up? It has to be pretty important if you directly sent for me with magic."
Sona was doing her best to straighten her dishevelled appearance, but her response came as firm as always. "If you had let me finish my message-"
"Then I would have had to wait even more to see you again!" Serafall cut her off. "Now, now, don't be afraid to ask, I'm already here you know?"
"Actually, I was the one who asked after you. It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Leviathan. I am Lelouch Lamperouge. An acquaintance of your sister."
At his words, she diverted her attention to him with a soft "Oh?" as if she hadn't registered his presence until now. Her eyes – the same shade of violet as her sisters – began to flicker about the room, catching sight of the chess board in the process. It was untouched from where they'd left it at the end of the game, clearly displaying black's victory.
The speed with which Serafall's head snapped back to Sona was almost audible. It changed tack again, returning to him, and began to light up as her face expressed rapid comprehension. All of a sudden, the vivacious devil released a deafening squeal and renewed her hold around her sister.
"So-tan! You're getting married!"
The room immediately descended into chaos as every observer let loose questions, denials, and demands for explanation. From the audible choking noises, more than one person seemed to be having respiratory trouble.
He had no mind to pay them any focus however, as with emerging horror, he realised exactly who the groom in such an arrangement would be. He promptly decided to abandon any future prospect of affiliating himself with the magical girl in front of him. Taking a page from Suzaku's book, he switched to the direct approach, his voice cutting through Sona's panicked rebuttals.
"As a matter of fact, Miss Leviathan, I simply wish to speak with your colleague Ajuka Beelzebub. I have some questions I would ask of him."
"Oh, well why didn't you just say so?" said Serafall, and before he could blink, she had twirled to face him, pointing her wand in his direction. "Levia Beam!"
A rosy shaft of light burst forth from the golden star, striking him full in the chest. Upon contact, he popped out of existence.
Turning to face the rest of the room, Serafall gave her wand a flourish, accompanied by an exaggerated wink. "Now, who are these new faces I see? So-tan, Ria-chan, introduce me to your new friends will you?"
She pouted when she was met with looks of incredulity and astonishment. "What? Was it something I did?"