Red?

No, it wasn't red. Crimson maybe?

No!

Sanguine.

Well actually it was blood. Still warm blood seeping across a mahogany floor. Yukio stared at it, not wanting to move his gaze. The blood was drawing closer to him, a steady unstoppable force. A sea of sanguine. Unwillingly Yukio's gaze was drawn to the frail corpse laying in the sea of red, her blonde hair swaying like seaweed and her kimono stained. It was a pretty blue, like the sky. Shiemi's blank green eyes stared lifelessly at him. He reached out to close them and spotted smears of sticky crimson all over his hands and his dress shirt. It was still warm. Yukio knew his stomach should clench, but it didn't until he noticed his hands were clawed.

"Nononononono," Yukio whispered desperately.

"Just accept it, you're just like me,"

Yukio turned and saw that bastard Toudou Saburouta, leaning against a wall with an amused look on his face.

"No! I won't! I'm not!" Yukio spat. The monster just chuckled and walked closer.

"Of course you are. I can see right through you… Yu-ki-o," the way he drew out his name and purred it out made Yukio shudder. The shop was burning. Yukio tried to reach for his guns but they were, naturally, nowhere to be found. Shiemi's blood squelched under his sneakers.

"Where are you going Yukio?" Toudou wondered, reaching out for Yukio, grabbing his shoulders. Yukio tensed, feeling weak and immobilized and small like a little kid cowering from a monster. Toudou pulled Yukio closer, his bloody eyes seeming to take up all of Yukio's vision-

REEP REEP REEP REEP REEP REEP REEEP

Yukio shot out of bed, clammy and shaking. After a moment he slammed his alarm clock shut with a little more force than necessary and ran a hand through his disheveled hair.

It was the fourth dream (nightmare) featuring that Toudou bastard that week. Yukio leaned against the wall and exhaled slowly, thanking ever saint he was aware of that this one didn't give him a morning erection. Still, Yukio felt disgusting, as if Shiemi's blood still clung to him.

Grimacing Yukio climbed out of bed, groped for his glasses and staggered off to the bathroom. Jamming his glasses on Yukio spotted some smears of red on his night shirt. For a good second or two Yukio's stomach dropped before he located the little crescent-shaped cuts on his palms from his fingernails. Tacky red still oozed sluggishly out of them and stung as he showered.

Showering used to calm Yukio down. These days it merely made him functional. There were too many thoughts in Yukio's head, too many doubts, too many people telling him to stop cramming it in when that was all Yukio could do. The exorcist grit his teeth, shooting a side glance at his still sleeping twin. The boy's open-mouthed snores used to bring a well of tenderness. Now Yukio just felt frustrated, irritated, sick. It was as if the air in their dorm was too stale, there wasn't enough oxygen for the two of them; like being trapped in a coffin with a candle.

Yukio glanced at his phone and groaned. There was a message from Sir Pheles.

What he needed, really needed (besides answers) was to get out, to get away. What he needed was-

"A mission~! I've been noticing you've been a little agitated recently so! I thought I'd help you out," Mephisto nearly chirped from behind his desk. "Just a little thing, shouldn't take you more than a few days so you can get back to teaching,"

"Alright." Yukio nodded politely. Some days he really wanted to punch the man-demon-child thing that was the chairman of True Cross Academy in the face.

Some days he swore Mephisto knew this.

But Yukio was a star pupil after all, a teacher, an exorcist. He couldn't behave rashly like his brother. Yukio took the folder with his mission on it, glancing it over. His pride twinged somewhat but Yukio had to agree with Sir Pheles. He needed to get out. The assignment was in the north in a rather rural area which was perfect. Yukio could get away from the academy, from his brother, from his classmates… hell, from the looks of things it was a solo mission. Just Yukio and some demon scum. Nothing complicated, nothing convoluted, just a simple battle of wills, of good and evil. Yukio smiled slightly, snapping the folder shut.

The day was looking up.

Toudou Saburota sprawled himself on a rather sturdy branch, watching the road below him. According to his sources, Yukio's train should have reached the station by now, and the exorcist would be taking this particular path leading to a patch of woods infested with hobgoblins. Ordinarily Toudou had no qualms about waiting for his prey but he felt itchy, impatient. Part of it was the climate- the air was cold and dry and seemed to seep in through his trench coat at inopportune times. Toudou would use his flames to warm himself but such a move would be dangerous- he didn't want to be found, no not yet. All thoughts of cold left his mind when he sensed Yukio coming down the path. It wasn't a sight or a sound or a smell thing more like a conglomerate of all three and the feeling of a pressure in the back of his head, a quiet storm coming. The young exorcist kept his steps light and quick, his eyes surveying his surroundings almost constantly. Toudou carefully pried himself from his branch, moving slowly as to avoid detection. (That was a nice thing about de-aging, his bones didn't creak or crack anymore.)Yukio didn't even look up. His steps and facial expression became more focused as he approached the problem spot and almost as soon as a hobgoblin was spotted those guns of his were out.

Toudou was impressed. It was a bit different watching Yukio shoot rather than being shoot at; Toudou had missed the smoothness in which Yukio took out his opponents before, often times without even looking where he was shooting. Such fine peripheral vision, such fine tuned senses! It seemed killing came second nature to Yukio, the soft-spoken prodigy boy. Toudou drummed his fingers across his lips, which had stretched themselves into a quite terrible grin. Toudou didn't feel a bit guilty for it though, Yukio sported a grin of his own. Not as large as Toudou's of course, but much more insidious.

It's one thing to be good at killing. It's another to enjoy it.

To be fair, they were hobgoblins. Not very bright creatures that didn't produce a nice blood spatter if their hunter was using holy bullets. Toudou wondered how Yukio would look covered in someone else's blood…if he'd hold in the ever expanding glee in his chest or let it out…

Yukio was moving again. Instead of heading in the direction he'd come, the boy was heading north. Toudou tipped his head slightly and followed silently.