Chapter 27 (Patreon)

“What unpleasant people,” Sona said with a grimace as she read Fubuki-san’s reports.

The mortal handling the financial side of Marikawa Reiki’s contract had, as usual, done his job brilliantly. In this case, perhaps a little too brilliantly: he had thrown the family’s business into such turmoil that the father of one of Taro’s targets had reached the end of his story.

Business troubles. An heir declared mentally unfit and “resting” in a psychiatric ward. A wife and daughter who had fled. The news was already reporting that the Tagawa family patriarch had finally gotten his wish to swing.

By the neck. From a rope.

Sona wasn’t about to shed a tear for a man like that. Nor would she mourn the university lecturers who’d lost their jobs, the police officers stripped of their badges, or the families of Tagawa Ken’s two friends, now scurrying around like squirrels with their tails on fire. But the Tagawa patriarch’s suicide had created problems for the Sitris. The business was now in limbo without an owner, and part of Fubuki-san’s plan had gone up in smoke. Fortunately, Tagawa Ken’s older sister was alive and well. So was their mother.

Both women were better people than the men in their family, and both had suffered at the hands of those unstable relatives. The mother had endured domestic violence throughout her marriage. Her daughter had often been beaten by her father, too, and had constantly clashed with her younger brother. By now, she was like an animal backed into a corner: still baring her teeth and snapping, but with nowhere left to retreat.

So when trouble began raining down on the Tagawa family and her younger brother started losing his mind, she seized the chance to leave it all behind, taking her mother with her.

“Fubuki-san.” Having made her decision, Sona dialed his number. “Arrange for Tagawa’s wife and daughter to inherit the company. Make sure none of his remaining relatives pressure them. If necessary, offer help on behalf of the Sitri Group. Find a way to do it without causing any more damage to the reputation of the Tagawa business. I want them grateful to us. Indebted.”

Sona hung up and breathed a sigh of relief. The doubts that had been churning inside her finally settled.

When work on this rather interesting contract began, the Student Council President had seen nothing wrong with taking over the Tagawa business. Quite apart from how rotten the father had proved to be, she had thought it right to punish the Tagawas who had covered up the… outright atrocities committed by that gang of spoiled rich criminals.

But that was before she looked more closely. The women of the Tagawa family had lived almost like prisoners among their own relatives. And the more Sona learned about their situation, the more she pitied them both.

Punish them? For what? For doing everything they could just to survive? The elder Tagawa could easily have beaten his wife to death. His daughter had been walking on very thin ice, too. Going to the police was no option: the Tagawas had connections in law enforcement and psychiatrists on their payroll who could invent whatever lies they needed. The women’s escape said enough about how “pleasant” life with their family had been. Better to have almost no money, so long as they were together and far away from their “beloved” relatives.

That was why Sona had grown increasingly uneasy about letting her House’s mortal conglomerate absorb the Tagawa business. And just before calling Fubuki-san, she had finally made up her mind: she did not want to take what rightfully belonged to those two unfortunate women. The mother and daughter had not worked toward inheriting the family business. Perhaps they had never even dreamed it might be theirs, but…

It was the right thing to do. It was Sona’s WISH. To act, for once, not as an heiress determined to increase her family’s wealth by any means necessary, but as… a girl who cared about other people. The Sitris would be no poorer for it, and Sona would have the peace of knowing she had done what was right.

Sometimes she could allow herself that much. After all, for all her desire to help her father and prove herself worthy of becoming the next head of House Sitri, she still fled at the slightest mention of an engagement. First, like Rias, she wanted to marry for love. And second, marrying someone who did not share her ambitions would stand in the way of her plans for the future.

Her older sister was a great help on that front. Well… most devils abruptly lost interest in marrying into House Sitri when Serafall Leviathan announced to the world that she would accept a devil as her little sister’s husband only if he could defeat her—Leviathan herself—in battle. To be perfectly honest, “most” was an understatement. Everyone lost interest.

For example, Sona’s father was currently in talks with the head of one of the Houses, while Sona had already spoken frankly with the prospective groom. Their conversation had been secret, in a sense: the elders knew nothing about it.

The young man had proved quite sensible. He was in no hurry to start a family with anyone himself and had immediately agreed to play his part in the little performance Sona had planned. All she had to do was be a little difficult with her father and wrangle a “chance” to settle the matter through some “fair contest.” Then the boy would simply throw the match. They just had to manage it before her older sister noticed another of Father’s “underhanded schemes.” Otherwise, “dear Daddy” would have a sulking older daughter on his hands, and his “accomplice” would have real problems.

“It’s just… my sister is helping me for now. But only for now.” Sona sighed quietly.

Sera was… very touchy-feely, affectionate, cheerful, loving. ACTIVE! And “very,” in this case, meant “too much.” She was possessive, too. Sona simply couldn’t imagine her sister willingly letting anyone date her. She could easily imagine Sera pounding a would-be boyfriend into the ground, over and over.

She’d even had a dream about it recently. Sona couldn’t remember who had been vying for her hand, but her sister’s broad smile—and the little imps of delight dancing in her eyes as she beat the “groom”—were etched perfectly into her memory. As if that weren’t enough, Taro had been helping Serafall in the dream, occasionally taking over from one of the Four Satans with the words: “Allow me a turn at putting this trash in his place, most esteemed Leviathan-sama.”

“How awful,” Sona murmured, sounding both dismayed and pleased. Then she went still at her desk.

Why had she felt that unmistakable flicker of satisfaction again? It wasn’t the memory of what her sister had done in the dream, or the thought of her would-be wedding ending with someone getting beaten up. It was Taro’s part in the dream, playing her “protector.”

“Is it… that bad?” she asked herself, but couldn’t answer.

Her Piece was an exceptional servant. Sona could admit the truth, and Taro… well, “out of her league” was the phrase that came to mind. A warrior like him would fit right into the peerage of some seasoned, high-ranking devil, surrounded by Pieces just as powerful. But in the Sitri heiress’s peerage…

He was too strong.

Not so long ago, Sona had secretly envied Rias. Her friend had managed to assemble a team of truly exceptional servants, even if her peerage was still incomplete. Two Sacred Gear wielders, the “Priestess of Lightning,” a reincarnated nekomata… and then there was her secret weapon, Gasper Vladi, whose potential for growth was monstrous.

The Sitri peerage looked… a little lackluster by comparison. Sona had never doubted her choices, of course. Every one of her servants had excellent prospects for long-term growth. She had also chosen her Pieces with care, considering not only their strength and potential but how well their personalities would fit together over a patient, steady climb to the top. In that respect, her peerage was nearly perfect. Still, she had to be honest with herself: just as Rias was stronger than Sona, the Gremory peerage was, for now, stronger than Sitri’s.

Until Taro made his presence known. Or rather, he had been announcing his strength even as a human: a Fallen Angel beaten by a mortal was quite a statement. It was a bid for the big leagues, provided he could keep growing.

Rias had understood that immediately. Which was why she’d started pestering Sona to let her have Chiba Taro, passing it off as a joke. That “childish” act hadn’t fooled Sona for a second. Her friend was a sly fox.

Fat chance, the Sitri heiress thought again, with a touch of spiteful satisfaction. You’ll have to make do with one more wielder of a combat-type Sacred Gear.

That evening, the Gremory peerage had “officially” gained Issei Hyoudou, while the Sitri peerage had held successful negotiations with Chiba Taro. A win for both sides, Sona thought. She couldn’t say who had been luckier; only time would tell how quickly Hyoudou and Taro would progress.

But… becoming a devil had done wonders for Taro-kun. Sona hadn’t realized it at first, but even immediately after his rebirth, her servant had already been on a par with middle-class devils. In raw power. As for skill…

Watching her new servant’s first “full-contact training session” with the rest of her peerage, Sona saw nothing resembling a newly reborn devil fighting his more experienced senpai. It looked like a veteran House guardsman toying with children.

Magic didn’t shock Taro-kun… no, that wasn’t quite right. He was curious, but he had accepted its existence at once. He hadn’t gaped or needed time to wrap his head around the existence of supernatural races on Earth. He acted as though he’d been through something like this before: encountered the unknown and fought it—or fought alongside it against someone else—adapting instantly whenever the battlefield changed.

Even during that first sparring match between her Rook and the rest of the peerage, Sona had realized Tsubaki would have a serious fight on her hands. And… her Queen would probably lose. Even Sona herself, despite the power she’d been born with as a high-class devil, couldn’t be sure she would beat him.

It wasn’t a question of raw power. Sona had plenty of that, even if she had less than Rias. The problem was her Rook’s experience and unusual abilities.

She had seen weaker devils defeat stronger ones more than once. Of course, she didn’t mean fights where the gap in power was overwhelming, only those where the opponents were at least reasonably matched.

If they compared their power head-on, Taro lagged far behind Sona. But there was that “but” again! The Sitri heiress could only judge his demonic power. The qi Taro used was a different kind of energy, one she didn’t yet fully understand. It wasn’t human magic or holy magic. Nor was it the ki-based senjutsu Koneko Toujou practiced. It wasn’t even the youjutsu of the youkai. Everything she’d managed to find about qigong on Earth paled beside what her servant could do.

So when she considered the energy Taro commanded—and the fact that he was a warrior who had been reincarnated many times in worlds where fighting was everywhere, all the time—Sona wasn’t sure even she could beat him. He also had a great many secrets and tricks up his sleeve. And he was getting stronger by the day.

Which, again, was hardly surprising. Taro knew how to grow stronger; he’d done it thousands of times. Forging magical weapons, making unusual medicines, mastering unconventional and astonishing techniques.

These days, his training within the peerage focused on demonic magic, the history of this world’s supernatural side, and the rules of conduct among the Great Houses. There was no point teaching an ancient cultivator how to fight. He already knew. Every spell Taro learned was, in his mind, already woven into the patterns of battles he had yet to fight. The only combat training he would need from Sona’s peerage was practice fighting alongside her other servants, so they could learn to work together.

Early on, once the Sitri heiress had fully realized what a treasure she’d been lucky enough to bring into her peerage, she had worried that Taro might want to leave. Any high-class devil would be glad to have him, and it was only a matter of time before rumors about him spread. A couple of truly spectacular incidents involving Taro, and Sona would start receiving dozens of offers to transfer her Rook to another peerage.

Fat chance, Sona thought with a satisfied smile.

She wasn’t giving him up, any more than she would any of her other Pieces. Besides, even suggesting that he might move to another peerage would hurt Taro deeply. She knew that now. She had come to understand her Rook better.

They talked often. Nearly every night, they had an hour or an hour and a half alone in the Student Council rooms. As promised, Taro had taken on the role of Scheherazade-kun, telling her stories from his past lives. Different ones. Different lives, different stories.

Sometimes Sona marveled at what she heard; sometimes she was horrified. Often she felt sad when another tale of martial artists’ adventures ended in tragedy for some of those involved. And sometimes she simply smiled through a lighter story, one with little epic grandeur and plenty of “ordinary” cultivator life: petty household intrigues, funny and occasionally foolish situations that even people of considerable standing, respected among the highest-ranked masters, could find themselves in.

Of course, Sona wasn’t listening just for entertainment. These conversations helped her and Taro get to know each other better, which was especially important for Sona.

As she’d already noted, once she realized how unique and powerful her new Piece was, and how much potential the devil cultivator had to grow, she worried that someone else would lure him away. She firmly opposed treating reincarnated devils like slaves, both on moral grounds and because she understood how… futile it was to build a peerage that way. If Taro ever truly wanted to serve another Mistress, she knew she couldn’t stop him. More than that, she wouldn’t even try.

And so Sona had… yes, she’d tried to “buy” him. Kindness and help weren’t all she’d offered. She had… plied him with gifts to win him over. When Taro wanted to hunt, she arranged access to the richest hunting grounds in House Sitri’s territory. When he needed somewhere to train and work, she provided a house, workshops, and a training ground in a secluded, scenic spot. When the cultivator needed rare materials, she bought everything he required and even dipped a little into her family’s stores.

Bribery, yes. Sona wasn’t afraid to call her efforts to keep Taro in her peerage what they were. She wanted him to see how much the Sitris did for him and feel grateful. Perhaps even indebted… though she gave up on that last hope once she got to know her Rook better. The ancient master took everything Sona did for him as a matter of course. In the worlds where he had lived before, giving the best to the best was simply how things worked. First-rate. One of a kind.

A disciple showed talent, proved his worth, and the elders invested in him. Sometimes they spotted an innate gift while the child was still young, as had happened with “lucky trash.” In Taro’s case, it usually came a little later, when his memories of previous lives helped him grow stronger at an abnormal rate.

To her Rook, then, Sona’s behavior looked like standard practice among clan leaders and sect elders: bind a valuable newcomer to you with kindness, material comforts, and privileges. A “talent,” a “genius,” had to know that his “home sect” would always treat him well. Whether those trying to lure him away would do the same was another question.

A little later, Sona realized her plans had worked perfectly. And the most important part, it seemed, was what she had offered everyone in her peerage from the start: warmth, and a closeness that felt almost like family.

“You can live surrounded by gold, eat off gold plates, even have a golden—pardon me—crapper. But when you’re surrounded by envious trash who smile to your face and drip venom behind your back… material comforts lose most of their appeal,” Taro had once told her. He’d been describing a small, far from first-rate sect that he had stayed with to the bitter end. When enemies attacked, he had died defending his sect brothers and sisters, giving the younger disciples a chance to escape.

That story, and others like it, along with the way Taro treated Sona and the rest of the peerage, showed her another side of her Rook. When he gave someone his loyalty freely and sincerely, and felt genuinely valued in return, he never took it back. Once he accepted the people around him as… true clanmates, brothers and sisters of the sect, almost family, he stood with them to the end and gave everything he had. And when he spoke of those lives… there was always warmth in his voice.

Which was hardly surprising. Sona often thought the cultivation worlds were… rather terrifying. She knew of the Former Lords and what the Underworld had been like in their day only from her elders’ stories and the books she’d read, but Taro’s tales often reminded her of the way things had worked in the “Underworld” back then. She would have struggled to live in such a world. She, too, would gladly have chosen to stay with people who genuinely cared for her, rather than those who might set her up, poison her, or betray her out of envy—or simply because they were rotten to the core.

Either way, things have worked out well, the Sitri heiress decided with satisfaction.

The only thing that still flustered her was her new servant’s habit of showering his Mistress with compliments. That was understandable, too. In his previous lives, praising a woman’s beauty, especially when she stood above you in the hierarchy, was more than normal. For members of a clan or sect, it was practically an obligatory ritual.

“Beauty is power, too,” Taro would say with a shrug. “It is a gift from the Heavens, like a unique talent or a mythical physique. Admiring my Mistress’s Heavenly beauty is as natural to me as breathing.”

Yes, it flustered her. A lot.

And Sona genuinely struggled to take Taro’s praise in stride. She was a girl, after all. She liked guys. She liked hearing compliments. And when an avalanche of blush-inducing words came from a handsome young man whose strength was truly impressive, whose experience…

“Ahem.” She cleared her throat as heat rushed to her cheeks again. Fortunately, no one else was in the Student Council rooms.

She had no plans to start a relationship anytime soon. Partly because boys her own age didn’t interest her. At all. Not in the slightest.

Sona could admit that she found some devils, and even some humans, appealing. Sometimes it was their character; sometimes their looks. Yuuto Kiba of Rias’s peerage, for instance, was a handsome young devil. She wasn’t pretending otherwise—she liked looking at him. But she felt much the same about a beautiful painting, a stirring landscape, or a sunset in a picturesque place.

Issei Hyoudou… please. He wasn’t ugly, granted. And yes, his Sacred Gear was an excellent, impressive asset. But Taro’s classmate was a walking bundle of teenage hormones. Sona would never see someone who openly undressed her with his eyes, wearing the expression of a sex-crazed maniac, as a romantic prospect. It was… simply unpleasant. It made her recoil.

Genshirou, her Pawn, was a better prospect. He was good-looking too, and he had a Sacred Gear, but… he was terribly immature. Sona couldn’t see him as anything other than the kid brother of her peerage. He had a long way to go before becoming a man she could rely on.

Devils born in the Underworld… that was even more complicated. Knowing they had centuries upon centuries ahead of them, they simply weren’t in a hurry. They took their time growing up. Even among her people who were “of age” and had lived for a century or two, most could sometimes seem less mature than mortal high school boys. She couldn’t blame them for it. But whenever Sona watched the antics of another century-old screwup proudly flaunting his “adulthood,” she could only sigh. He was definitely not her “type” for a serious relationship.

Relationships… yeah…

Only now, it seemed, she had a problem brewing. A personal one. She had begun to notice things about herself that hadn’t been there before. The urge to interrupt Taro when he talked with the girls in her peerage, for instance. Or the faint irritation she felt when he and Asia, the nun, started calling each other by their given names without honorifics. Or her slight unease about Taro’s future servants—not because they were Fallen Angels, but because those Fallen Angels were girls. Or how she sometimes found herself waiting for the next shower of compliments. Or how wonderfully pleased she felt when Taro spoke of her in glowing terms in front of Rias.

And one last thing: she felt disappointed when she realized that all her Rook’s beautiful words were simply part of traditions he had carried over from his past lives, ingrained deep in his very being.

Sona might have called what was happening to her inexplicable, but she wasn’t a character in one of Rias’s beloved anime, was she? She was perfectly capable of understanding her own feelings. It didn’t take a genius to realize…

I definitely have a thing for older guys, Sona concluded with a sigh. She glanced at the clock, rose from her desk, and began forming a teleportation circle.

It was time to visit the subject of her thoughts. Taro had begun trying to comprehend the element of fire the previous evening, and Sona had agreed to help him. That was why he had missed classes today. Officially, he had suffered a minor leg injury during training at the dojo.

A scarlet flash, and the President vanished from the Student Council room in her teleportation circle.

Author’s Note:

Heads up: there’ll be a couple more chapters like this, outside the main plot. Think of them as OVAs. If you want to grumble… go ahead. Am I stopping you? I like it this way, and as long as I’m enjoying myself, I’ll keep writing.