A/N: Here goes that AnE fic I was talking about in my author's notes in Roofies. Spawned from, of all things, a note on some Wikipedia page suggesting that Mephistopheles' name derives from a pair of (either Hebrew or Yiddish, I forget which) words meaning 'destroyer' and 'liar'… Which is funny, cuz although Mephisto's doing his chessmaster thing a lot in this fic, he doesn't turn up much at all until the final few chapters. XD
Katsumi is my OC – have a look on Kemmasandi dot deviantArt dot com for her profile if you're curious. While this story is technically Rin's, in that he's the catalyst and object—the princess in the tower, so to speak XD—it's told using the perspectives of other people.
Oh, and holy CRAP, we've been having a lot of earthquakes lately! *dies* There was a 5.2 yesterday; sitting on the couch felt like being out at sea, bobbing on the waves...
. . . . . . .
青の祓魔師
– Forty Days –
Day 01: New Moon
- 4:40PM – True Cross Academy, Exorcist Cram School – Tōkyō, Japan
"…The prime doctrine of the True Cross Order goes thus: Faith is the strongest weapon against demons. God has given us the power to fight, to keep Assiah safe, and so long as we have faith in Him we will never lose that power. So long as we fight in His name, we will never be broken."
Suguro Ryuuji glared at his notebook, the tip of his pencil digging into the clean paper.
Shima was snoring unabashedly in the seat behind him. Up at the front of the class, that idiot Okumura's head was swaying as the half-demon fought to stay awake. Their tutor didn't seem to have noticed either of them yet, droning on and on without interruption. The atmosphere inside the classroom was hot and stuffy, and for once Bon couldn't blame either of their resident morons, not when his own eyes kept threatening to droop closed.
Theology had to be the most boring class of the entire Cram School.
A flock of Coal Tar drifted past the front of the desk, their huge greenish eyes glaring balefully up at Bon. Bon glared back, and didn't look away until they floated off towards Kamiki's side of the class.
"…to that end, one can consider belief to be our own uniquely human power, that which fuels our natural ability and allows us to exorcise even the strongest of demons…"
Bon shook his head, raking his fingers back through his hair and scowling. He knew he should have bought that energy drink during the lunch break.
. . . . . . .
The class bell rang after a twenty-minute period that felt like an hour. The sleepy Exwires automatically began to gather their things, but abruptly Kumagawa-sensei clapped his hands, bringing them to order. Bon and Konekomaru exchanged a confused look as Shima snorted into wakefulness behind them.
"As of tomorrow, we will be joined by a new student," the tutor announced, sleepy brown eyes focusing on each of them on turn. "She comes from a school of Exorcism not run by the Knights of the True Cross, so please be patient with her as she may not know things that we take for granted."
Konekomaru nodded seriously, and Shima whistled under his breath. "I wonder if she's cute?"
"Shut it, idiot," Bon growled. The tutor must have heard, because he gave the boys a sharp look.
"Also, the end-of-unit test will be tomorrow, so I suggest you all go home and study hard. Aside from Kamiki-san and Miwa-san, your grades as a class are barely acceptable. This is an important subject—" Shima snorted again, and Kumagawa-sensei scowled— "and I expect you all to perform better on the test than you are in class."
Students suitably chastised, he gave Shima one last glare, and dismissed the class.
"You have some incredible luck," Konekomaru told Shima as they left the classroom, following Kamiki out the door. "I'm amazed you didn't get given a detention."
"Kumagawa-sensei is just soft," Bon disagreed. "If it was Kirigakure-sensei, he'd have gotten something thrown at him."
Konekomaru gave Bon a pointed look over the top of his glasses. "That's exactly what I meant."
"Yeah, well, that's why I don't sleep in her classes," Shima grinned, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and stretching his neck sleepily. "Can't sleep in class too often, it hurts my neck. But I can't help falling asleep when it's Theology. My brain just can't take it, unlike you two geniuses." He paused, covering his mouth with one hand and visibly holding back a silly giggle. "Oh wait, that's right, for once Bon's at the same level as I am in a class—ain't that right, Mister Barely Acceptable?"
"Tch." Bon glowered at him, but all Shima did was run a hand through his pink hair and grin ingenuously. He opened his mouth to retaliate, but a sudden shout cut him off.
"Oi! Princess, guys, wait up!"
Konekomaru and Shima turned, smiling at the newcomer. Bon glanced back over his shoulder despite himself, snarling at the nickname—Why the hell can't he quit calling me that?
Okumura Rin raced along the corridor after them, towing an equally frantic Shiemi behind him. "Guys! We need help!" he yelled as he skidded to a half just short of crashing into Shima. Shiemi slid into his side and clung to him for a moment, trying to get her breath back.
"What with?" Bon asked suspiciously, raising an eyebrow at Rin. Shiemi gathered herself and stepped back, still breathing hard, and the half-demon glanced away, pouting.
"...We kind of failed our practice tests," Rin confessed, scowling at the floor. Shiemi nodded breathlessly, her pretty face wearing a worried frown.
"You too, Moriyama-chan?" Shima asked, giving her what he probably thought was a reassuring smile. "Don't worry, so did I. What mark did you get?"
"Forty-three percent," the blonde said, her frown deepening. "It just… I really don't understand any of it! Whenever I think I get something, I always get it really wrong in the test."
She looked so despondent that Bon couldn't help trying to cheer her up. "Forty-three isn't that bad a mark," he said airily, looking away and trying to ignore the nagging voice in the back of his mind that said: actually, it's a really bad mark. "Shima got thirty-six. What was your mark, Okumura?"
Rin mumbled something unintelligible. Bon sighed, the corners of his lips twitching in irritation.
"Sorry, what was that?" he asked. "I don't speak idiot-ese."
"I said, I got eight percent!" Rin growled, his tail lashing angrily. "I only got one question right!"
"Wow, you're right," Konekomaru sighed, adjusting his glasses and adopting a determined expression. "You really do need help." He thought for a moment, and added, "What do you need help with? There are some parts I'm not sure of myself, but we can try anyway."
"Everything! Will you help us?" Shiemi pleaded, clasping her hands almost as if she was praying. "We really, really need it."
"I don't know about these guys, but I'll help you, Moriyama-chan," Shima grinned, straightening up and adjusting his collar. "A guy can't refuse a girl in need."
"You won't be helping anyone, moron," Bon scowled, lightly whacking the back of his pink-dyed head. "Except for maybe Okumura."
"Hey, you're one to talk! You only just passed yourself." Shima put on his best host-club smile for Shiemi, and Rin by extension, motioning to Bon with a dismissive hand. "This guy got sixty-seven percent, so don't go to him for help either. Apparently he's not too good at Theology, you know."
"But I am!" Konekomaru cut off Bon's retort with one of his rare sharp interjections. Everyone looked at him in surprise. "Moriyama-san, Okumura-kun—do what I say, and I'll make sure you pass tomorrow. Probably, anyway."
Shima meekly raised his hand. "And me too?"
"I can't make any promises with you." Shima's face fell comically. Konekomaru sighed, and dug his library card out of his bag. "But I'll try if you try, okay? What about you, Bon?"
"Well…" Bon frowned, and asked a question that had been niggling at the back of his mind for days. "What mark did you get in the practice test, anyway?"
"Ninety-six percent," Konekomaru said, smiling bashfully at Shiemi's whispered gasp of admiration. "Of course, I studied almost the whole night the day before the exam, so…"
"It's still pretty impressive," Bon admitted. "Where would we go? The library'll be pretty busy, but I don't know if our dorm is big enough."
"Well, our ghost is probably off partying with his university friends, so there's some extra room," Shima suggested eagerly. "Okumura, Moriyama-chan, you guys okay with that?"
Rin nodded, fangs gleaming in a happy grin. Beside him, Shiemi blushed furiously.
"Are you sure that's okay?" she squeaked, clutching her familiar's little bit of paper. "I don't want to be a bother."
"Don't worry about it." Konekomaru smiled up at her. "Collective responsibility, right? We all need to take care of one another when we can. I'm happy to help, Moriyama-san."
"Aw man," Shima whispered to Bon, smiling resignedly. "I can't compete with that."
Bon was sorely tempted to smack him.
. . . . . . .
"You have a ghost?" Rin asked suddenly as Bon led the little group into the new boys' dorm building. Bon wondered where the hell he was getting this from, but then Shima laughed, and he remembered the other boy's earlier flippant comment.
"No, not really," Shima explained, grinning lazily. "Our roommate just hardly ever comes back here. Not that I'm complaining—I kind of like it just being the three of us—but he's just like a ghost, slipping in and out without anyone noticing him. I don't even remember his name!"
"Oh," Rin said, flopping down on the bed closest to the door—Bon's bed. Bon gritted his teeth and dragged Rin off it, dumping him unceremoniously on the floor.
"Don't just go sitting on other people's beds, moron," he scowled. The half-demon pouted up at him, putting on an expression of injured innocence.
"Oh, right, Princess Suguro needs to keep his bed just right, otherwise he won't be able to sleep, huh?"
Shima snickered, dumping his schoolbag on the floor beside Rin. "Yeah, that's pretty much it. I should put a pea under his mattress one of these days, see how he likes it."
"Will you guys quit it?" Bon's scowl deepened, sneering just to hide his own embarrassment. "We're here to study, not gossip."
"Well said, Bon." Konekomaru gave them no time to rest, pulling out a stack of library books from his bag and passing them around. Bon dragged a pillow off his bed and gave it to Shiemi to sit on. She gave him a grateful smile—looked too cute for her own good like that. He quickly dragged out his own notebook and frowned ferociously at a blank page for a while, trying not to blush.
The study session went exactly as hoped for half an hour or so. Even Rin and Shima were paying complete attention to Konekomaru, and as a result, every so often there would be this joint whoop as they both figured out what the text was saying.
"So what's this devotion passage here?" Rin asked, showing Konekomaru a section of one of the books from the library. "It's in English. I think I can sort of read it, but I don't really know how to pronounce most of it."
Konekomaru leaned in close, frowning at the page. "I think… 'You will seek the Lord your God; and you will find Him if you seek him with all your heart and soul.' I don't remember where that's from, so we probably don't need it."
"Cool, thanks," Rin grinned, probably in relief, and scribbled out some of his notes. Konekomaru turned to help Shiemi with something, and Bon went back to reading over his notes.
Gradually, he realised he could hear a phone ringing. Shima glanced up from his notes, meeting Bon's gaze and grinning wickedly.
"You gonna get that?" he asked. Bon blinked, and suddenly recognised his own ringtone.
He chucked his notebook onto the bed as he pushed himself up, snatching his quietly vibrating phone off the desk and heading for the door. "Hello?"
"Ah, Ryuuji? Thank you for answering. I was wondering if you were ever going to pick up." His father's good-natured voice was interrupted by a sudden loud beep. "Oops."
"Dad?" Bon paused, frowning. "I thought you didn't have a cellphone."
"I'm just borrowing this one from Yaozou," Tatsuma Suguro explained with a little chuckle. "I really don't know how to work—" the rest of the sentence was drowned out by a chorus of electronic beeps. "…it keeps doing that, and I don't know why."
"Are you pressing buttons?" Bon asked, trying to resist the urge to roll his eyes. Somewhere behind him, Shima snickered.
"Yes," Tatsuma said. "Should I not be?"
At that, Bon really did roll his eyes. "Just don't touch any of the buttons from now on. Give it back to Yaozou once you're done, he can hang up for you."
"Alright," his father said placidly. "Ryuuji, I wanted to talk to you about something."
Bon's eyes narrowed. That sounded suspicious. "About what?" he said warily, heading for the door.
"Well…" Suddenly Tatsuma's voice sounded rather uncomfortable. "Your mother said I should ask you this question first, so please bear with me if it sounds strange. Do you have a girlfriend?"
Bon blinked. "What?"
"I said, do you—"
"Yes, I heard!" Bon interrupted hurriedly, wrenching the dorm room door open and slipping outside hurriedly. "What the hell sort of a question is that?"
"That's what I told your mother, but you know how she gets." A sigh rolled through the connection, and Bon calmed down a little, leaning back against the wall and glaring.
"I don't," he said, absently proud of how calm his voice sounded. "I don't have a girlfriend. Now—what the hell was that all about? Are you planning something without me again?"
Tatsuma ignored the questions completely. "There's a new Exwire student joining your class tomorrow, isn't there?"
Bon's glare grew deeper. "How did you know about that? We only just got told this afternoon."
"Her father is an old friend of Torako's from high school," Tatsuma explained briefly, punctuated by yet another beep. "Oops, I didn't mean to do that. Anyway, Katsumi-chan is coming from Lebanon. She doesn't know anyone in Japan, let alone Tokyo. So, just as a favour to your father, I'd like you to look after her until she settles in. Show her around if you can, although I realise you might not have time."
You mean you want me to be a glorified babysitter, Bon thought glumly. It still didn't explain the girlfriend comment. "That's not all, is it."
"It was, up until yesterday," Tatsuma said cheerfully. "Your mother suggested we make it an omiai."
"What?" Bon said for the second time in five minutes. "What did you just say?"
"You're getting angry again, aren't you?" His father sounded genuinely mystified. "I think it's a good idea. The Nagato family are heavily involved with the True Cross Order, while her mother's family have been old contacts of ours since the Edo era. Katsumi-chan sounds like a good girl, although to be honest I haven't actually met her."
Bon fought against his restraint for a long few second, and won, eventually. "Don't go planning my own life for me!" he snapped, because some things just needed to be said. He took a deep breath and forced himself to calm down, closing his eyes and counting to seven before letting it out again. "Just—why?"
"I met Torako though an omiai," Tatsuma said. "I know the method works. It was awkward at first, but now I wouldn't really want any woman but her. And if you don't have a girlfriend, then there's nothing really stopping you."
Yeah, but… goddamnit, I don't know! He swallowed, suddenly nervous as well as angry."What about Myou Dha? That's my main responsibility—what am I supposed to do about that?" He wasn't sure what exactly he was worried about, just that he was. He'd been scowling for so long the muscles in his forehead were starting to ache.
"You know, Ryuuji, you don't really need to worry about Myou Dha. At the moment your own life is what's important." Tatsuma sighed again, and was quiet for a moment. Bon could hear someone—it sounded like Mamushi—yelling in the background. The familiar sound should have calmed him down, but instead it had the opposite effect. "You always have a choice in this."
"I know." Bon tried to relax, pacing up and down the corridor, in and out of a small patch of sunlight. "And I'm not worrying—Myou Dha's just one of a lot of things I need to think about."
There was a little voice in the back of his mind saying: go for it; what have you got to lose? Bon imagined it sounded a lot like Shima. That idiot would love the idea of something like this...
On one hand—this is fucking weird. On the other… it… could work. Maybe.
"Dad, as far as I'm concerned what's best for Myou Dha comes first," he said eventually. "I'll look after this girl for as long as she needs it. If it's better for Myou Dha to… to go out with her, then I'll do that too. But if I don't think it's better for Myou Dha, then I won't."
"I wouldn't ask anything more," Tatsuma said, and though Bon couldn't see him, he was sure that the old monk was smiling. "Now, Katsumi-chan's flight arrives late tonight, so you probably won't see her until your first Cram School class tomorrow. She has white hair and wears glasses, and that's all I know for sure. She'll probably recognise you, even if you don't recognise her."
There was a sneaking suspicion creeping up on Bon that his parents—his mother, probably—had anticipated this ending. "Why would she recognise me?"
"Your mother told Kunimichi to tell her yesterday," Tatsuma admitted, chuckling. "We sent her one of the photographs from when you were here during the Impure King incident."
Bon closed his eyes and massaged his temples with the hand that wasn't currently holding onto his phone. He was sure he could feel the beginnings of a migraine coming on; funny how talking with his father did that so often.
"You knew I'd accept, didn't you?" He sounded more tired than angry now, he realised. "What are you, some kind of oracle?"
Tatsuma laughed for real at that. "No, no! It's just that you're our son, Ryuuji. We know you better than you think we do."
"I'll remember that next time," Bon warned him. "I should go, Dad, I'm studying for a test tomorrow."
"Oh! Good luck with it then, and have fun with Katsumi-chan and the boys."
"Thanks, Dad." Tatsuma's phone got in one last beep before Bon hung up.
He stood in the hallway for a few moments longer, gazing at a patch of orange sunlight on the opposite wall. The sun was sinking towards the horizon; it was probably going to set soon. His stomach rumbled at the thought, looking forward to the evening meal.
A delighted laugh—Rin's laugh—bubbled out from the dorm room. Bon took a deep breath, and strode back along the corridor, slipping back in past the door.
Inside, Shima looked up from where he lay sprawled out on the floor, grinning like he knew far too much for his own good. "So, what was all that about? Something interesting, I hope?"
Shiemi, Rin and Konekomaru fixed him with equally curious looks. Bon took a deep breath, and tried not to blush.
"I think I have a date tomorrow."
. . . . . . .
–11:20PM – Narita International Airport – Tōkyō, Japan
Katsumi Nagato jerked awake as the engines roared, sudden deceleration pressing her back in her seat.
She chuckled, pulling wire-framed glasses off her face and rubbing the sleep from her eyes. Her fellow passengers began to shift and mutter as the plane taxied along the runway, eager to disembark after six solid hours in the air. The businessman in the seat next to her yawned cavernously, stretching his long legs out and accidentally kicking her on the shin. He muttered an apology, but Katsumi wasn't listening.
Ignoring the voice crackling through the PA system – she probably knew it all off by heart these days – she dragged her backpack out from under her seat, resting it in her lap for the final few minutes of the flight. Outside the window, the sky was dark, but the land all around was lit with a million bright lights. Katsumi pressed her nose to the glass, grinning with exhilaration.
I don't remember a Japan like this, she thought, narrowing vivid violet eyes at the bright lights in the terminal. Then again, that wasn't surprising—her memories were of old Kyoto, and a house that still laid half in ruins. She'd been four the last time she lived there.
The plane finally stopped moving just outside the terminal building, and almost immediately people began moving towards the exit. Katsumi waited for a while, long enough for the creepy man in the seat behind hers to disappear from sight, before shifting her bag to her shoulders and stretching luxuriously. Six hours sitting down was far too long.
Then she worked her way out into the aisle, and strode towards the airlock door as fast as her legs would take her.
The warm air in the terminal was cooler, and much more humid than Katsumi was used to. She shifted uncomfortably in the line for Customs, hoping the air outside would be at least a little bit fresher.
The Customs officer raised a dubious eyebrow at her bone-white hair, but took her passport without commenting.
She found her way through the rest of the terminal with little trouble. Though this was her first time travelling without her father or brother, she'd been through enough airports over the years that they all seemed the same after a while. She spared a longing glance at the terminal mall, but time was ticking, and she walked onwards with a regretful sigh.
There was a man waiting for her in the Arrivals hall—tall, all dressed in white, wearing a top hat and a natty little goatee. He smiled at her, and Katsumi instantly realised who he must be.
"You can't miss Sir Mephistopheles," her brother had said, "he dresses like a loon and he has the most untrustworthy smile I've ever seen. And I've met some untrustworthy bastards in my time, believe me."
"Nagato Katsumi-chan, I expect?" he said in perfect Japanese, taking an elegant step closer to her. "I've been waiting for you."
Katsumi stared, and so did half the people around her. "You're Sir Johann Faust?" she asked, using the name she'd been told to address him with in public. He nodded, his smile never faltering, and extended a polite hand.
"The fifth, to be precise. Principal of True Cross Academy, pleased to make your acquaintance." His eyes—a lively green despite the heavy dark circles underneath them—dropped to Katsumi's suitcase, corners creasing with amusement at the pen doodles that covered it. "We look forward to you joining us in the Cram School classes."
"Thank you," she replied, hesitantly shaking his hand. He gazed at her for a calm moment, then gave a satisfied nod.
"Consider it a favour to your father. Now, you have your luggage, you've collected everything you need. Shall we take our leave?" He turned on his heel and gestured towards the main doors. "I have a car waiting for us."
The 'car' was really a pink limousine. Katsumi approved of the colour, but not the design. It looked like a reject from one of her father's classic car magazines.
"You will start at both the daylight school and the Cram School tomorrow," he said as she hauled her suitcase into the trunk, then found it wouldn't fit. "Oh, just throw it in with us. I'll have to tell the driver to slow down a little though, otherwise it might injure one of us."
"Injure? Really?" Katsumi gritted her teeth and lifted the suitcase back out, then into the car itself. That done, she shook her hands out, wincing when the skin on her palms twinged, and climbed into the limousine's interior. It was a lot more spacious than it looked from the outside, with plush seats and what looked like a mini candy bar on the opposite side.
"Oh yes, unfortunately." Sir Mephistopheles climbed in after her, carefully selecting a lime-green lollipop from the candy bar. "My driver, while he is a fine young man, has a tendency to ignore the speed limit. Even if you're jet-lagged, I suggest getting a good night's sleep tonight," he added. "Our Exwires missed a good amount of study time over the holidays, so I hear they're studying like demons to catch up." He chuckled at some private joke, his eyes sharpening. "The Melcart School focuses primarily on Islamic and Jewish lore to combat demons, does it not?"
Katsumi started at the name of her old school. "Yes. It's only loosely allied to the Knights of the True Cross, so the Christian lore we did study was more Coptic and Orthodox than Catholic." She'd enjoyed it that way too—knowing that it was something few exorcists these days studied. It was like watching her father at his work again.
"Then that'll be something of a disadvantage for you, I imagine," her escort smiled. The expression did nothing to soothe her doubts. "At True Cross the curriculum is mainly Catholic, with some Buddhist and Shinto additions, since we are in Japan after all. Your Meisters are Aria and Knight, correct?"
She nodded, hands knotting nervously in her lap. Out the window, the countryside flashed past. "More Aria than Knight, really. I've only recently figured out how to make my sword accept me."
He hummed, as if that meant something to him. "Then we will make your tutorial classes all in swordsmanship so you can catch up. Kirigakure-sensei will be thrilled to have another student. If I remember correctly, your placement in the Exwire exam was second out of five, which isn't bad at all. Then again, you shouldn't stand out too much." His green eyes narrowed in a calculating gaze, and Katsumi suddenly felt as though she was pinned to the seat. "We do seem to have a bumper crop of promising young Exorcists this year."
There's no way he's human, she thought, looking down at the limousine floor and swallowing nervously. What the hell have I got myself into?
There was an uncomfortable silence—for her, at least. He seemed perfectly at home; unwrapping his lollipop and cheerfully crunching on it, examining a bunch of crumpled papers as he did so. "Your dorm room is No.233; once we arrive at the Academy the dorm mistress will look after you. And while I'm thinking of it, you will need this—" he fished in a hidden pocket, and drew out a large bronze key, passing it to Katsumi— "to get to your Cram School classes. It is a lesser Key of Solomon, so look after it."
Katsumi nodded, tucking the key away in her bag. She could feel nervous butterflies fluttering in her stomach—she hadn't been this nervous in years.
At least part of it was Sir Mephistopheles' fault, she guessed, looking down at the floor again. To have his attention was a scary thing; she hoped he'd lose interest soon.
The ride was fairly uneventful after that. Sir Mephisto seemed immersed in his papers, occasionally snickering wickedly for no apparent reason. Katsumi's suitcase slid into her legs every time the limousine went around a sharp bend, but it was all worth it when the road came out onto a freeway above the city and she caught a glimpse of the Academy town through the windows. It rose above the city around it like a gigantic castle, lights glowing in every window.
From there, it was only twenty minutes to the Academy. The limousine pulled up to the sidewalk in front of a tall concrete building, and almost as soon as it had stopped moving Katsumi leapt out the door, dragging her suitcase behind her.
There were a pair of women wearing kimonos waiting in the entrance hall. The shorter one waylaid Katsumi as soon as she was past the door, whisking her away up the stairs while the taller woman stayed behind, talking with Sir Mephisto. Before she knew it, Katsumi was standing in front a door three storeys up, waiting as the woman rapped loudly on the door.
"If I know the girls, at least one of them will still be awake," the woman muttered, scowling. "They're supposed to turn the lights out at twelve, but no-one ever does. First years live four to a room, so learn to get along with your roommates; if you don't, you're stuck with them until next year."
The door opened slowly, a girl's face peeking warily out. Muffled giggles could be heard from behind the half-closed door.
"Noriko, this is Katsumi. She will be joining you girls from now on."
Three girls watched expectantly as Katsumi stepped inside. One blonde, lounging on a bunk bed; one brunette, standing uncomfortably by the door; and one with hair a shade of deep eggplant purple and dark red eyes, sitting cross-legged on the floor. At least I'm not going to stand out too much, Katsumi thought, staring at the last girl's eyes for a moment. I wouldn't be surprised if she was half-demon, with eyes like that.
"Well, are you going to introduce yourself?" the red-eyed girl said coolly, folding her hands in her lap. The brunette girl whispered something that sounded like "Izumo-chan!" but was ignored.
Katsumi grinned, held back a laugh, and took a deep breath.
"My name is Nagato Katsumi…"
. . . . . . .
–6: PM– under the Basilica of St. John Lateran – Rome
Chants echoed through the crypt, music filtering down from a level somewhere above ground. Under the long shadows cast by a lone light, another voice sang, low and almost whispered. It was a man, lean and curly-haired, chanting with absolute precision the words of a prayer long since memorised. His eyes were closed, the expression on his face one of absolute stillness.
"Kyrie eléison," Samael finished, drawing the blade of his ceremonial knife across the back of his wrist. Blood welled up out of the shallow cut, bright red against his freckled skin. He smeared his thumb through it, then bent to wipe the blood across the small circle drawn on the stone floor in front of his feet.
Almost immediately something stirred—a presence rose, dust and sand rising out of a solid stone floor to form the vague shape of a woman, lithe and curvy. Sand grains floated in the air around it, pressing up against an invisible wall rising from the outline of the circle it stood above.
"I have a task for you," Samael told it.
The figure in the sand hissed, its grainy skin shuddering and seething. It shook its head, a messy hole opening in the lower part of its face, streels of dust dripping from it like saliva. "Duuuunn… waannaaaa…"
"I have a task for you, and you will do it," Samael repeated. There was blood dripping down his fingers, something he was very conscious of. Though the figure in front of him had no eyes, he could feel its attention focused on the precious liquid.
"Fiiiiiiinnee…" came the slow answer. The figure shifted restlessly, leaning forward as far as it could without touching the barrier around its circle.
"You will find the son of Satan," Samael said. The figure froze for a moment, the sand that formed its torso constricted. Then it shuddered violently, shoulders jerking up and down in a silent laugh.
"You will find the son of Satan," Samael repeated, forgetting to blink as the demon in the circle rose upwards, staring down at him from near the vaulted roof of the crypt. It might have scared Samael were he twenty years younger. "You will stay near him, you will watch him, you will remove him from existence. If anyone—demon or human—prevents you from carrying out your mission, you are to erase them as well."
"Ruuuuuuuutthhhleesssss, huumaaannnn… I oobeeeeyyyy."
"Very well." Samael clapped his hands—there was a crack, a flash of light and just on the edge of hearing, a tiny roll of thunder. The smell of melted glass filled the air.
He watched the red bricks that had formed the edge of the circle crack open and crumble into the ground below with a dispassionate calm. That was marids for you—temperamental, volatile… very, very powerful. Samael's blood was the only thing keeping him safe from a spirit of that calibre
But not even the whims of a marid could keep the good humour from Samael today. He was doing the Lord's work, and doing it well.
"Give thanks unto the Lord," he whispered, "for he is good; for his mercy endureth forever."
The first phase of a fifteen-year plan was about to begin.
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Notes: 'Kyrie eléison' is Greek; it means something along the lines of 'Lord, have mercy'. It's a really common prayer, especially in Orthodox Christianity, and is also Samael's personal summon key for the marid (she has a name, but that will be revealed later on).
Marids come from Arabian mythology, dating back to pre-Islamic times. Depending on where you look, they have powers over storms or the sea... so I went with sandstorms and lightning for my marids.