A/N: I'm so happy that this story has gotten such a positive response! I wanted to write this chap sooner for you guys, but alas, school work is a heavy burden :/ anyway, I want to thank everyone who left a review last chap and I hope that I can continue to entertain everyone with this little tale.

Chapter 2- Salvation or Hell?

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It was almost morning when the pair collapsed into the bus seats. There was only one public mode of transportation in the small city that didn't sweep across True Cross town and there was only one bus that led to another old friend of Shiro Fujimoto. The bus driver gave a noncommittal grunt at the pair, adjusting his rearview mirror and pressing on the gas. He had seen all sorts slither onto his bus and the white-haired man dressed like a priest and some brat weren't the weirdest he had seen that day.

Settling their belongings on the ground, Rin stared out the window to his right, watching the horizon slowly glow with a hazy, ethereal light. At the sight of the sun, the scores of low-level demons (at least the coal tar anyway— they were the only type he could see floating in the air) stumbled back into the darkness of alleyways and abandoned buildings.

They're hiding... like us. Rin observed in a rare moment of brooding. It wasn't in his nature to think too hard on a situation, but he couldn't believe how much events had shifted all because he hadn't argued with his adopted father. The reverend was still alive, he still looked human if his reflection in the window was any indication of the time jump (even his tail and fangs had disappeared), and there was no cram school to go to. Not now, anyway. He had to make sure Shiro was safe above anything else.

"Alright Rin, I think I deserve that explanation now." The priest's voice cut through the boy's thoughts, crimson eyes settling on the slightly deflated figure of the dark-haired youth.

A silence ensued, save for the dull sound of morning traffic as Rin looked down, picking at imaginary spots of lint on his hoodie. "I dunno… if I tell you everything will you disappear? Mephisto didn't say anything about not telling you, but—"

"Rin, I'm not going anywhere. I promise." Shiro grinned, letting out a chuckle before tugging on the boy's cheek teasingly.

"You've gotten so serious lately; I feel like I'm talking to Yukio!"

The boy glowered back, swatting the hand away with a blush. "S-shut up. A lot has happened. A lot that I need to tell you about."

And so he did. Somehow, the teen found himself able to speak of the Gehenna Gate. He told of how Satan had sneered at him, dragged him through a pit of eyes, and nearly pulled him into Gehenna. Shiro listened intently, nodding every few lines of dialogue and giving the boy's shoulder a comforting squeeze when he started talking about his death.

"I-it was my fault you died. For a long time I couldn't forgive myself. I thought Yukio hated me— and then when my… heritage was found out and everyone treated me like a monster…" He trailed off, biting his lip. The terror in his friends' eyes still stung, even now and inwardly, he feared the doubt and pain would never truly disappear.

Shiro suddenly pulled the boy into a hug, silent. Rin gawked at the display of affection, but eventually reciprocated the hug, feeling the burn of unshed tears in his cobalt eyes.

He didn't realize how much he really missed the old man until he was back in front of him, warm and alive and not covered in blood.

The pair stayed like that for a few minutes, silent save for the thoughts running rampant in their heads. The bus rolled quietly through the empty streets, flashes of sunlight filtering through the dirty windows. Neither man said anything.

Shiro looked past the boy in his arms, squinting in the glare from the rising sun. Its rays felt pleasantly warm on his skin; it was the first sunrise he could recall in years. Though, it probably had something to do with his newfound knowledge. He had seen an extra day. Yesterday… he should have died. At the hands of Satan, no less. A frown crossed his lips and he was glad that Rin couldn't see it.

What if he was meant to die that day? The reverend had no delusions of grandeur, no belief that his death served a greater purpose… but, a feeling gnawed on his insides like a festering parasite. If there was one thing he learned in his friendship with Mephisto, it was that time was a fickle mistress. Everything balanced on a scale: Assiah and Gehenna, Life and Death, even the Past and Future. For his life, what would have to be lost?

Giving the boy one final pat, the priest slipped on a grin, settling back into his seat. "At least I know my passing didn't turn you into a crybaby brat." He teased, watching Rin rub his nose, sniffling indignantly.

"S-shut up! I really missed you, old man!" Rin retorted, rubbing his puffy eyes.

Shiro rolled his eyes, turning his attention to the bus stop they were approaching. Picking up his own bag, he pulled the boy up by his hoodie. "Come on, this is our stop."

The house was modest enough. European in style, the two-story building was made entirely of red brick. It loomed over the hill, the area's only seneschal. The pair had made a three mile trek from the bus stop, cutting through the woods until they came to this isolated house. Covered in dirt, twigs, and sweat, Rin was more than ready to stop and rest.

He made a motion to walk up the stone steps that led to the façade of the house only to have the reverend pull him back. The man pressed a finger to his lips, motioning to the window on the side of the house. It was hidden by the underbrush of a nearby tree, the paneled glass revealing what appeared to be a washing room. Silently, Shiro approached, knocking on the window in a pattern of three separate beats. A few moments passed until the front door creaked open.

"Shiro…?" A deep voice called out, revealing a man who looked to be a few years younger than the priest. His grey eyes scanned the yard, a baritone chuckle escaping his lips at the sight of his old friend.

"Ryouta-san, it's great to see you again." The paladin jeered, clasping the man on the shoulder. The raven-haired exorcist laughed in return, pulling the smaller man into a bear hug that literally swept Shiro off of his feet. Rin watched on with surprise and mild awe, seeing his adopted father swung around like he weighed nothing. The muscular exorcist finally stopped after the man's tenth plea to be let down, setting the paladin onto the leave-covered lawn.

Shiro adjusted his spectacles and attempted to look upset; the frown lasted a second before he let out a sigh. "Even now, it's hard to stay mad at you for long."

The man tsked in return. "You were asking for it. What's with all these formalities, Shiro? Come on, we've known each other for fifteen years; I think we've gone past using honorifics."

"That's true, but I was trying to look cool in front of my protégé." He motioned to the otherwise silent dark-haired boy.

A glimmer of interest showed in the man's eyes as he grinned, holding out a hand. His eyes were creased with laughter lines, Rin noted approvingly before shaking the man's hand. His grip was strong and firm, enough that the youth didn't have to worry about breaking his hand (as he normally worried about after he almost broke a classmate's hand in junior high).

"Ah, a protégé, huh? What type of person must you be to have the paladin training ya? My name's Ryouta Himura." Ryouta teased, folding his arms.

"Rin Okumura." The blue-eyed teen responded, following the man into the house. The pair was immediately met by what appeared to be a study after dropping off their bags in the foyer. The room was painted in soft golds and reds, rows upon rows of books reaching up to the ceiling. The room smelled of old tomes and vanilla, causing the half-demon to sneeze on more than one occasion. He read the spines easily, noticing that most were books on demonology.

"This… wasn't really what I was expecting." The boy noted honestly, attempting to pull one of the larger books from the shelf. He immediately recoiled as a flash of blue sparked up his hand, causing him to shove the book right back. Looking to his right, he breathed in a sigh of relief; it didn't look like Ryouta had noticed.

The dark-haired exorcist suddenly paused, turning towards Rin. "What, just because I've got a few tattoos and a couple scars means I can't like reading?"

"N-no, that's not what I meant at all—" Rin started, waving his hands wildly. Shiro bonked him on the head lightly, stopping the stuttering mess of apologies.

"He may not look like it, but Ryouta's one of the best Aria the Order has. He taught the sutra and chanting class around the same time that I taught demon pharmaceuticals. He's actually an upper-first class exorcist with a meister in aria and dragoon." Shiro explained, remembering the days fondly. It had been interesting being around the boisterous, tactile man.

Rin nodded dumbly, taking another look at the upper-first class exorcist. The man was about the clown's height, with a crop of messy black hair. His eyes were a coal grey, though appeared friendly due to the extensive crisscrossing pattern of his laughter lines. He had a long scar that ran across the bridge of his nose and his short-sleeved shirt revealed a line of sutras tattooed on his arms. He was muscular and fit for his age and Rin had to admit it; the guy looked really cool.

"I'll be right back, Shiro. You guys look thirsty; I know the trek up here is horrible. Let me get you some drinks." He commented happily, rushing off to the kitchen. Shiro waved back in affirmation, settling into one of the plush armchairs. Rin followed suit, sitting in the chair opposite of his adopted father.

"Himura-san seems nice."

Shiro nodded in return. "When I was just becoming an exorcist he saved my ass more times than I can count. I've returned the favor twofold, of course, once I climbed up the ranks."

Before Rin could respond, Shiro's phone went off, the generic jingle startling the priest. He quickly answered it when he recognized the number.

"Hello?"

"Are you alone?" The voice asked cryptically.

"No. What is it, Yukio?"

There was a pause. "Continue to answer in yes or no format. Sir Pheles has alerted the Grigori of Rin's existence."

"Yes." At that moment, Ryouta returned, two bottles of water in hand. He gave one to Rin before placing the other on the coffee table beside Shiro's seat. The dark-haired exorcist moved back to lounge beside one of the bookshelves, starting some small chit-chat with Rin. The priest filtered it out as he continued to listen to Yukio.

"The Grigori has ordered all exorcists to come looking for you two. I'm in Sir Pheles office. I should be able to access the files of all exorcists in the Japanese branch from his computer. Trust no one."

"No…" Shiro whispered, unable to say what he really wanted to say. Damn it, Yukio! It's too dangerous!

The phone clicked off, revealing that Yukio had hung up. Pocketing the phone, Shiro saw Ryouta looking towards him expectantly.

"You okay?" He asked in a concerned tone.

"Y-yah. It was a wrong number."

Rin glanced at the two, taking gulps of the water. Shiro suddenly sighed, running a hand through his hair. "My head aches. Do you think I could get some aspirin?"

Ryouta nodded, walking off towards the kitchen. "No problem. I'll be right back."

As soon as the man was out of sight, Shiro motioned towards the opposite hallway. He whispered, voice urgent and cautious. "Rin, you remember that window I tapped on? I need you to climb through it. I'll meet you outside later."

"Wait, why—"

"This isn't the time to argue. Just trust me."

Confused, the youth did as he was told, carefully walking towards the laundry room. He had just slipped out when the dark-haired exorcist returned, a bottle of pills in hand.

"Sorry it took me so long; I couldn't find it— wait, where did Rin go?"

"Bathroom." The reverend supplied, looking at his bottle of water suspiciously.

The upper-first class exorcist nodded in understanding, taking the seat Rin once occupied. "So, it's been what, two years since you've visited?"

"Has it really been that long? Man, I'm a horrible friend." Shiro joked, eyes glancing to the clock in the room. Rin had left for the 'bathroom' two minutes ago. He just needed to keep the dark-haired exorcist preoccupied for three more minutes.

An idea suddenly sparked in his head. "Hey, do you have that demonology textbook I asked you about before? The one with all the demon kings?"

Ryouta nodded, standing up. "Yah, let me get it for ya." The man lumbered to the shelves, fingers trailing against the spines.

"Ah, here it is!" He exclaimed, revealing an old, leather-bound text. He plopped it into the paladin's lap. The priest pretended to look interested in it, pretending to read the book as the clock ticked on. It appeared that the upper-first class exorcist was getting increasingly anxious, grey eyes trained on the hallway that led both to the bathroom and the laundry room. His eyes suddenly turned to the bottle of water, which looked to be untouched.

"Don't forget about your drink. And the pills." He piped up, settling into the armchair. Shiro grunted in return, taking a pill and uncapping the water bottle before reluctantly taking a gulp.

He shut the book abruptly, pointing to the hallway. "I'm gonna go check up on Rin; he's a bit dense so for all I know, he could have locked himself in— or fallen into the toilet."

This brought a chuckle from the muscular man. "Alright, I'll be here."

The priest hurried off, unaware of the frown that slipped onto his friend's face. He veered right, to where the bathroom was, holding his breath. He stepped cautiously into the bathroom, eyes locking with the small window. Throwing it open quietly, he climbed out, glad to see Rin a few feet away.

"I'll explain later, let's go." Shiro ordered, running away from the house. It was then that his head began to throb.

Three hours later, the pair collapsed into the motel room. Shiro could barely keep his eyes open, tongue numb and thoughts sluggish. He fell onto the dusty bed, the images in front of him blurred to the degree that he couldn't even recognize Rin's face. Still, he tried to reach for the boy, feeling a cold lethargy creeping through his veins.

"Rin… keep watch. Demons… and exorcists are after you." He mumbled, conscience fading.

"H-hey, old man! Wake up, old man! Dad, wake up!" Rin yelled, shaking the man. There was no response. For a moment he feared that Shiro had died, only to let out a breath of relief at the sight of the man's chest rising and falling. He had just fallen asleep.

The boy racked his brain, thoughts frantic. Shiro had complained of dizziness after leaving Ryouta Himura's home. He replayed the day in his head, coming to a realization. It had to be the water! He had drunk it too, but his demonic blood must have been enough to counteract whatever drug had been put in the drink. He had remembered a lesson from Yukio in demon pharmaceuticals class in which they learned that some demons that possessed human hosts were unaffected by tranquilizers or other human drugs.

Sitting on the man's bedside, the cobalt-eyed teen laced his fingers together, eyes narrowing. He didn't want to run from motel to motel; there had to be some place they could stay. True Cross would be too risky; from what Shiro had said before he passed out, being anywhere near exorcists seemed like a bad idea. Unless…

Rin grinned widely. He was a freaking genius! He'd hide in plain sight, just like what he read in one of his favorite manga! It seemed that a visit to Shiemi Moriyama's residence was long overdue in this timeline.

A/N: This will probably be the only time an OC is used in the story (hopefully). If there are more, they shouldn't be important characters, so no worries to those who aren't fans of OC's ^^' But, this might not be Ryouta's only appearance XD And as a special treat guys, here's just a small preview of the next chapter!

Review?

-Isis

[preview for chapter 3]

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The teen remained fixed in place, head spinning. For a moment he couldn't breathe, couldn't move as the grey-haired woman rubbed her red-rimmed eyes with her dark kimono sleeve.

"She's gone… gone…" The woman spoke, voice wavering until she broke out into shuddering sobs.