Growing up, I was told that there were two kinds of people; those who longed for power and those who longed for peace. There was never the option of an in between, no neutral party, balance was out of the question. You were either a good person or a bad person. The men who raised me taught me that there was no such thing as a neutral party and that the thought of one only made me weak. I've never taken kindly to being called weak.

"Bay!" my weapon partner, Gerard, called out as I dodged what could have been a fatal attack "Get your head out of the clouds and defend yourself, prove your worth."

"Yeah, easy for you to say," I huffed as I leaned against a wall "You're not the one bleeding out."

It was a truth. This damn kishin wasn't messing around and he'd proved his point when he said he'd cut me up. Demon barbers, I've learned my lesson, it's always best to avoid them.

"Here," Gerard whispered as he took a human form "It'll be alright, I promise."

"It hurts." I whimpered as he pulled the scarf from around my neck and began wrapping it tightly around my waist.

"Yeah, that'll happen when you try to stop the wound from bleeding out so much-" a loud crash cut him off as he secured the knot "It's all we can really do right now."

"Just transform so we can get this over with."

He nodded once before he took the shape of a duel battle axe again. I envied his ability to transform into a weapon. If we were ever given the chance to switch places...

"Oh, pretty girl, let me cut you." the manic voice of the demon barber whispered harshly "Let me take a little off the top!"

"I think my hair's short enough, thanks!" I screamed as we ran at each other (he being a tad bit more graceful than I), our blades clashing loudly against each other, before he managed to pin me down "Shit."

I had always been such a miserable fighter, had always been told that I was weak, so it should be a given that I blamed my faults on my upbringing. It wasn't the most conventional way to raise a child but there never seemed to be any other way. The thought of my childhood was enough to make me vomit. No one should have to put up with what I went through, with what Gerard went through. Why did I always have to think during a losing fight?

The demon stood suddenly, grabbing Gerard and throwing him down the alley, before he took my head in his large hand and slammed it against the brick wall I'd previously been leaning on. A muffled scream escaped my lips as he took to repeatedly bashing the back of my skull against the surface. His laughter took on an entirely new form of hysterics as I came to realize just how much he enjoyed my pain. I know that suffering for fun isn't exactly something these guys kept on the down low, but I'd always thought that they still felt something, that they were still somewhat human. I'd felt bad for them and it made me weak.

"Hey!" a voice, someone other than Gerard, shouted out suddenly "Marco De Luca, Demon Barber of Sicily, your soul is mine."

"You think so, huh?" Marco laughed "Well, lemme just finish this little dish, I'll get to you in a second."

"Little dish?" another stranger asked in confusion.

Marco released me, letting me drop to my knees in a pathetic slump, before grabbing me by the neck and showing me off. It was as if I were a prize he'd won at a fair. "See my next snack?" he hissed as he waved me around before the pair of strangers "She's such a pretty little thing."

"Gerard?" I mumbled "I'm so sorry."

"Gerard's not with us, darling." Marco cackled as he slowly started licking up my face.

"You sick bastard," a scythe "You're torturing her!"

"No, you won't ever touch me again!" I screamed as both me and Marco flew forward.

I flew out of Marco's hand and into the female stranger and her scythe, who'd taken a human form by this point. We looked over to Marco, who seemed to be knocked out cold, then turned to where he'd originally stood. Gerard, in all his glory, stood triumphantly with a smug smirk on his face.

"Bay, let's finish this already."

He calmly walked over to us, reaching down to lift me up before transforming again. Their meister and weapon pair curiously watched on as I stomped over to Marco and slammed Gerard down on him, repeatedly, in a rage. He'd brought back memories that I'd tried so hard to forget and he didn't even know it. Marco De Luca had reminded me that, as weak as I was, I could never be a neutral party and have pity on those who found a twisted joy in ending innocent lives. It was the last thing I could remember before blacking out. Those were the last thoughts on my mind as I crashed.