Chapter 7: Level One and a Half

The alarm went off at seven forty-five.

Ren shut it off without opening his eyes, because lying awake for forty-five minutes staring at the ceiling before it rang didn't really count as sleeping either.

He stayed still for another thirty seconds. His back hurt from ing out in the desk chair, and his ego in general from believing he was going to get any rest after a night like that. He got up. Splashed cold water on his face. Put on the uniform.

Fourteen pages of report turned in at six in the morning, he thought as he knotted his tie. A House Vaal sponsor scratching at the fence that I clocked as level one and a half. And now Classical Lit at eight sharp. Perfect.

He slipped the cash into the inner pocket of his jacket and walked out.

Koneko Toujou was sitting two seats to his left and one row up, textbook open and a small bag of gummies in her lap. Like it was a normal Wednesday. Which, Ren thought as he settled into his chair, technically it was.

"You've got bags under your eyes," she said without turning around.

"Morning, Shirone."

"How much did you sleep?"

"Forty-five minutes."

A short pause while she processed the number.

"That's not sleeping."

"I know. Had the same argument with my body and it won."

The teacher walked in and the room quieted down. Ren copied the notes for the first half hour with the tight handwriting of someone who knows he won't any of what he's hearing. Heian. Murasaki Shikibu. The Tale of Genji is basically the first shōjo in history with a bigger description budget. He wrote underneath, in smaller letters: The pulse has been quiet since five forty. Either the sponsor pulled back or he's waiting for the right moment. Both options are a problem, but the second one's worse.

He closed that mental parenthesis and went back to copying.

The teacher asked who had read the assigned chapter. Four hands. Ren didn't raise his because he hadn't read the assigned chapter, and he wasn't about to fake it just so the teacher could ask him a question he'd have to make up an answer to.

At eight forty-five, the teacher told them to read the chapter in silence. Ren rested his head on his hand and his eyes closed on their own for exactly two minutes, until something small and precise tapped him on the left shoulder.

He opened his eyes. Koneko was looking at him head on from the seat next to him, where she'd migrated without making a sound, a green gummy between her fingers.

"You were falling," she said.

"I was thinking with my eyes closed."

"You were snoring."

"That's an exaggeration."

"Mm."

She held the bag of gummies out to him without saying anything else. Ren grabbed three red ones and chewed them while staring at the page he was supposed to be reading.

"Did you log the six a.m. pulse in the report?" she asked quietly.

"Yeah. Put it down as preliminary. Level one and a half."

"Why not two?"

"Because ten seconds of and a clean retreat isn't a level two. It's someone feeling out the door to see if anybody's home."

"And if he comes back?"

"If he comes back with more presence, it bumps up automatically and Sona gets four more pages before her coffee goes cold."

Koneko looked at him a moment longer.

"President Gremory's gonna want to know too."

"One's gonna find out first and the other's gonna ask for the summary," Ren said. "It's the natural cycle of this institution."

The corner of Koneko's mouth twitched a millimeter before she went back to the page. She left the bag of gummies on his desk and didn't reach for it again.

Ren ate four more before the bell rang.

________________________________________

The nine o'clock bell was still echoing down the hallway when Tsubaki Shinra appeared in the doorway, clipboard tucked against her forearm. She handed a note to the teacher. The teacher read it and looked up toward the back of the room.

"Akatsuki, you're wanted at the Student Council."

And there it is, Ren thought, gathering his notebook.

Out in the hallway, Tsubaki was already walking toward the Council wing. Ren followed, taking advantage of the distance to , out of the corner of his eye, the flawless sway of her skirt. Tsubaki walked with such perfect posture that the Kuoh uniform seemed to hold together by sheer miracle at the height of her hips. Excellent visual work to start the morning, he thought.

"Point four, page eleven?" he asked, snapping out of it.

"Point four, page eleven."

"What time did she read it?"

"Six forty-two in the morning."

Ren silently processed the fact that Sona Sitri had read fourteen pages of report at six forty-two after a night with no sleep. He decided that earned a level of respect bordering on uncomfortable.

"What kind of mood is she in?"

"The President is always in the same mood."

"That doesn't tell me anything useful."

"That's the intent."

"Did she at least have coffee?"

Tsubaki didn't answer. Ren took that as a bad sign and picked up the pace.

________________________________________

The Council office at that hour smelled like fresh paper and expensive tea. Folders in tidy rows. Whiteboard with a new diagram on the right side. Sona behind the desk, uniform spotless, glasses in place. Everything in order.

Threat level: moderate, Ren noted internally. With the uniform fully buttoned to the collar she's more manageable for my mental health. Although the white fabric of her blouse still insisted on outlining the silhouette of her bust with a precision no bureaucrat should ignore.

"Akatsuki," Sona said, gesturing to the chair across the desk. "The incident report is properly documented. The rogue confirmed affiliation with House Vaal during the seven o'clock interrogation."

"Good."

"Point four on page eleven raises questions for me."

"Figured it would."

Sona opened the report to the marked page and read aloud, without inflection.

"At 05:52, the wrist sensor ed an estimated level 1.5 activation, with duration under ten seconds and voluntary withdrawal of the external agent. Classified as preliminary, pending confirmation." She closed the folder and looked at him. "Why one and a half?"

"Because what I picked up was a probe. Ten seconds of , zero marks in the area, clean retreat. A level two with those parameters would've put a civilian campus on maximum alert over a reconnaissance ping."

Sona didn't answer right away. She leaned back slightly in her chair and crossed her legs. The faint shift of uniform fabric and the subtle change in posture sent Ren's eyes on a quick, automatic, and entirely unauthorized scan across the curve of her thighs before they returned to the safety of her glasses.

"And if what's probing is the direct sponsor from House Vaal himself?" Sona asked.

"Then the sponsor is smart and isn't going to commit on the first . A preemptive level two wouldn't have stopped him. He would've just changed the date."

Sona was quiet for a moment.

"I'm not in disagreement with your reasoning," she said at last. "I do want a guaranteed response time if the event repeats."

"If he comes back with more than ten seconds of , I'll call you before I finish writing the report."

"And if you're in class?"

"The sensor works the same anywhere."

Sona nodded and opened the folder to write something in the margin. Ren took the chance to look out the window. The usual Wednesday courtyard. Students crossing between buildings. The groundskeeper with his tool cart. Two second-year girls sitting on the bench by the fountain.

All quiet. The pulse at his wrist, still.

"One more thing," Sona said without looking up. "Gremory requested a copy of the report this morning."

"Did you give it to her?"

"The executive summary. The full one is Council jurisdiction." A brief pause. "Although Rias is going to ask you about point four directly the moment she finds out it exists."

"I already know what to tell her."

"What?"

"The same thing I told you, but with more patience for follow up questions."

Sona looked up from the margin and looked at him.

"That's diplomatically acceptable," she said.

And in that moment, the pulse at Ren's right wrist lit up.

It wasn't the weak probe from five fifty-two. It was a full, cold beat that climbed up his forearm and left no room for doubt. He glanced down for a fraction of a second, then looked at Sona and sat up straighter.

"Level two," he said. "North sector. Just crossed the perimeter."

Sona was already on her feet.

"Distance?"

"Thirty to forty meters from yesterday's point. It's not the rogue, he's in custody. It's another agent, or the sponsor himself."

"Tsubaki."

"On my way," came from the hallway before Sona finished the word.

"Track him without direct confrontation," Sona said, walking around the desk. "If it's the sponsor, a premature confrontation alerts him and we lose the chance to ID him."

"Understood."

"Don't cross the perimeter."

"I never do without written permission."

"Akatsuki."

"It was a joke. I'm going."

________________________________________

The courtyard at nine twenty had the normal background noise: hallway voices, a door closing in the west building, someone practicing piano two floors up. Ren crossed it with the easy pace of someone between classes, his attention locked on the pulse at his wrist, which was pointing north-northeast and gaining strength with every meter.

He's moving. Not parked at a fixed point. Hold on. He's coming to see what's left of Tuesday's circle. Wants to know if someone wiped it or if the marks are still active. Which means the sponsor doesn't know somebody cleaned them up that same night. That's the only useful thing about this Wednesday so far.

He slipped his free hand into his jacket pocket and pulled out half a cereal bar that had survived since Tuesday out of pure forgetfulness. He took a bite without stopping.

He rounded the corner of the greenhouse and slowed down.

The garden, empty. The grass, clean. The pulse was pointing toward the shade of the bushes along the north fence.

There.

Ren stashed the rest of the bar, pulled out his phone like he was checking a message, and when he got within three meters of the bushes he saw him. A figure standing in the shadow, civilian clothes, nothing to set him apart from a regular student at first glance. Young. Dark hair. Eyes sweeping the garden with too much attention.

The guy spotted him.

They held each other's gaze for two seconds.

"The garden closes at nine at night," Ren said in a normal tone. "You're supposed to be in class right now."

The guy didn't answer. But the pulse at his wrist dropped all at once: magic withdrawn, fast and clean, exactly the same as at five fifty-two. A calculated retreat. The figure stepped away from the bushes, took the path toward the north side gate, and walked off campus with the stride of someone who had no business to settle.

Ren tracked him with his eyes until he was gone.

Then he pulled out his phone for real and texted Tsubaki: Presence withdrawn. Civilian agent, young, dark hair, no visible marks, exit through north gate at 09:24. Heading to the office.

The reply came back in twelve seconds. The President is waiting for you.

Sona looked at him when he walked in.

"Confrontation?"

"None. He withdrew the moment I saw him."

"Description?"

"Civilian. Young, estimated seventeen to twenty-two years old, dark hair, slim build, unmarked clothing. Trained to retreat without committing. I didn't have an angle for a photo."

"How did he react when he saw you?"

"He stared at me for two seconds and left. No active magic, no objects, no alarm tells. Calculated."

Sona wrote in a new folder she already had open on the desk.

"And you consider that an advantage?"

"I consider it time," Ren said. "Which is the same thing, just more honest."

Sona wrote a bit more and closed the folder.

"Follow up report before six. Four pages minimum."

"Three."

"Four."

"Three and a half."

"Akatsuki."

"Four," Ren conceded, standing up. "But the conclusions section is gonna be short."

"The conclusions section will be as long as it needs to be to be precise."

"Then it'll be short and precise."

Sona looked at him over the rim of her glasses without saying anything.

"I'm going to class," Ren said.

"You have Literature second period."

"I know."

"It ended twenty minutes ago."

Ren looked at the wall clock.

"Ah."

"The next period is History."

"Do I have History?"

"You have History at ten."

"Right," Ren said. "I'm going to History."

And he left before the conversation could generate any more commitments in writing.

The hallway on the way to the History classroom smelled like an early lunch drifting up from the cafeteria one floor down. Ren was walking while looking at his phone when Koneko showed up leaning against the wall next to his classroom door, the bag of gummies still in her hand, waiting for him like she'd calculated exactly how long it took him to get back from the Council.

"Did he come back?" she asked.

"Yeah. Pulled out on his own again."

"Same one as six?"

"Different. This one was younger. Trained differently."

Koneko processed that while chewing on a yellow gummy.

"How many does the sponsor have?"

"Dunno. Enough to take turns."

"That's not good."

"No," Ren said. "It isn't."

A brief pause while the two of them stared at the hallway without really looking at it.

"Four more pages for Sona?" she asked.

"Four pages before six."

"Can you handle that?"

"I can handle it if I eat something first."

"That's what I was about to ask," Koneko said, and held out a handful of red gummies without looking at him. "Lunch is in forty minutes. Don't forget while you're doing the report."

"You reminding me to eat?"

"Mm."

Ren took the gummies, brushing against her small fingers, and gave her a sideways smile.

"ing grade, Shirone. That's a really sweet detail on your part."

Koneko didn't even blink, but her golden eyes narrowed by a millimeter.

"Starving yourself produces fewer pages. It's efficiency," she said in her usual flat tone. "Pervert."

"Hey, all I did was accept the candy," Ren defended himself, amused.

"Mm," she repeated, turning around and letting the small ponytail of her dark hair sway before she walked into the classroom.

Ren followed her with his gaze fixed on her back for a full second before he reacted, sat down in his seat, and opened the notebook. The pulse at his wrist was still calm. The House Vaal sponsor had people in Kuoh and was moving them carefully, without committing, probing every sector like someone who wasn't in a hurry but also had no intention of giving up.

Fine, Ren thought, writing the date at the top of the page. Let him keep his patience. I've got mine too.

The History teacher walked in. Ren copied down the first note. And underneath, in small letters, he started the draft of the four pages of report that Sona was going to have before six.

________________________________________

Lunch was salmon onigiri and a cold tea he'd grabbed from the vending machine in the hallway, and it was easily the best thing that had happened to him all Wednesday.

Ren was sitting on the same bench under the tree in the courtyard where he'd watched the groundskeeper push his cart that morning, notebook open across his knees and the onigiri half eaten in his hand, when Rias appeared on the path from the west wing with Akeno one step behind her.

"Akatsuki," Rias said when she spotted him. "Was the level two this morning yours?"

"Yes."

"And?"

"The agent withdrew. No confrontation."

"Description?"

"It's already in the follow up report. Sona has a copy."

Rias looked at him with the expression of someone who knows there's more information and is going to have to ask for it specifically. She crossed her arms, a habitual gesture of hers that, once again, generated a devastating visual impact on the upper half of her uniform. Akeno, beside her, tilted her head with that half smile that made it clear she was thoroughly enjoying watching Ren try to keep his gaze fixed on his President's bangs.

"What else?" Rias pressed.

"That the sponsor's moving his people in person," Ren replied, making a conscious effort not to glance downward. "Which means he cares about this territory more than was convenient to expect."

"Is it an immediate threat?"

"Not yet. It's a next-week problem if we don't handle it right."

Rias looked at the garden for a moment, thinking it over.

"I want to be kept informed."

"Talk to Sona. The channel's open."

"I'd rather hear it from you."

"Sona has the full report and four more pages before six," Ren said. "I have salmon onigiri and twelve hours of pending sleep. Priorities are what they are."

Akeno covered her mouth with her hand and let out a soft little laugh, looking at him with bright eyes.

"My, Ren-kun... how cold. And here we were coming over to see if you needed a little company to get through your sleep-deprived morning."

"The company's appreciated, Himejima, but my heart rate needs a break until Thursday," he replied with a crooked smile.

Rias watched him for a second with the look of someone deciding whether or not to take offense, and decided not to.

"Eat," she said finally, turning around with a movement that sent her long crimson hair floating. "But tomorrow I want the summary."

"Tomorrow you'll have the summary."

They walked off. Ren took two full seconds to appreciate the view of both of them retreating from the bench, because a free agent can be professional, but never blind, took another bite of the onigiri, and went back to the draft of the report.

Outside, the campus was still going through its normal Wednesday. The pulse at his wrist, still. The B wing garden, clean.

For now.