Disclaimer: I don't own Blue Exorcist.

BGM: "Crestfallen" by Avantasia.

Demon of Carnage

Eighteen-year-old Shura straightened, forcing the manic grin back down into her belly where it waited, swallowing salt and metal slick against her lips and tongue. She flicked blood off the blade in a practiced movement (that was completely pointless, since it wasn't like the damned sword didn't drink anything it could) that Shiro had drilled into her.

She stepped over misshapen corpses, reeking ghouls and other things that might have been human, even moments ago. It wasn't that she couldn't tell the difference, just that she really didn't want to look that closely at what might have been sitting at the bar last night, telling fish stories to anyone who would listen. Honestly, she just wanted a drink or five, a half-decent meal and some sleep, in that order. Oh, and a bath to get all the gore out of her hair before it dried, that'd be nice too.

Smiling a bit at the thought (and ignoring the terrified rookie jumping away from her), she made a beeline for the medic tent. Hopefully, Shiro would be there by now (or would be as soon as he'd made sure nothing was going to get back up and ambush anyone) and he always had a little flask of something on him. Not like she was gonna be picky, and anyway, Shiro had really good taste in alcohol.

Huh. No Shiro yet. Oh, well.

Humming tunelessly, she stationed herself outside the medic tent, tapping one foot on the trampled grass. She scanned the area, looking out for threats (more out of habit than anything else), and finding nothing to worry about, settled in for a wait.

One of Shiro's typically unsubtle "suggestions" drifted across her mind.

"Hey, Shura!"

"Yeah?"

He held out a photograph she'd seen far too often for comfort. "You see these kids?"

"…Yes." The- those twins. How could she not know who they were?

"Great!" Shiro smiled, clapping a hand on her shoulder. "Then you won't mind keeping an eye out for Yukio-kun on his first field assignment."

Shura raised an eyebrow. "Field- wait, you said he was in cram school."

"He was," Shiro replied dryly. "Fast-tracked out. Theoretically he's already field-ready, and I'd planned on taking him along on a little demon hunt to get his feet wet. Just some low-level rot demons that needed clearing out, nothing to worry about."

Or that resembled human beings.

"Unfortunately, I've been tapped for some top-secret hush-hush thing that'll probably turn out to be so much smoke and thunder, so that plan fell through." Now Shiro fell out of his usual good mood, going very quiet and serious. "The Vatican has decided that little Yukio is qualified to go on a hunt with one of the regular squads. I couldn't be prouder of the little genius."

'Or more terrified for him' remained unsaid.

"Your latest squad is missing a member, right?"

Shura nodded. "Yeah, Sawada went and got himself stabbed in the gut our last time out. Got rushed to the hospital."

Shiro took a moment to think that over, and then seemingly dismissed it. "All right, then. You'll keep an eye on him?"

"…Fine."

Shaking her head, Shura blew away the mental cobwebs and figured she might as well go, since it looked like Shiro hadn't gotten out of whatever hoops the higher-ups were making him jump through this time, not yet.

Stalking through the field of dead and dying, she looked for small, dark, low to the ground and trembly. There: A child, looking even smaller than normal in a too-big black coat. No armor, despite Shiro's fussing. At his age and size, it was better to dodge than block anyway. Small meant harder to hit, but easier to break.

Shura noticed he was kneeling on the ground, wiping at his mouth with a tissue. A tissue. Seriously, what kind of little girly-boy brought tissues to a battle? There wasn't much on the ground, but the acid reek of vomit was hard to miss, especially from downwind. Either he hadn't been able to eat before the mission, or he'd thrown up earlier. Probably both.

"Oy, four-eyes!"

He stiffened and whirled, tiny pale hands tight around the barrel of a gun. His knees were shaking, eyes cold and hard slivers of malachite. Wet streaks on his cheeks and under his nose gave away how he'd been crying, just as clearly as his high raspy voice. "What do you want?"

What the fuck. He looked like a little girl playing dress-up in mommy's clothes. He even had little beauty marks, for crying out loud. "Nothing, not from you. You seen Shiro, crybaby?"

His eyes narrowed even further, but he relaxed enough to put the gun away. "No," he said petulantly. "And I am not a baby. I'm eight years old."

Her eyebrows drew together, and she stared down at him.

He flushed for no reason at all (that she could see or that he knew of) and amended that, "Technically, seven and three-quarters. What do you care, anyway?"

"Hey," she said, walking right up to him and picking the kid up by his collar. He yelped, but she ignored that. "Shiro is a damn good exorcist, and any news of him is good news, even if it's from a scaredy-cat like you."

"I am not a scaredy-cat," he said quietly.

She snorted. "Right, and I'm the Tooth Fairy. Whatever. If you don't need my help, then just stay here and rot in your own puke."

With that, she dumped him on the ground.

He scrambled to his feet (good recovery, but he shouldn't have let me grab him in the first place) and spluttered, "I never asked for any help! More to the point, you didn't offer any in the first place."

"I just did."

Giving a last glance at the pathetic, trembling child (little monster, really, but Shiro was just too nice for his own good; she knew that better than anyone), Shura turned on her heel and walked away.

She really needed a freaking drink.

A/N: Because Yukio is a rather messed-up kid, and Shura doesn't want to share father figures. Inspired by the works of sarsaparillia, who introduced me to the Yukio/Shura ship. (Which doesn't exactly show up here as he's a kid, but interaction anyway.) And before anyone goes crying OOC, please remember that we've only seen how Yukio the 15-year-old veteran deals with battle in the main storyline. He doesn't strike me as someone okay with people seeing him vulnerable.

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