Author's Note:
It's been a while, hasn't it? Sorry about that. A lot of things have been going on in my life and my writing has, unfortunately, been pushed to the back burner a lot lately. Since I last updated this story, I have moved and changed jobs (on completely separate occasions), among other things. The past several months have been especially crazy for me with the job change and my dad's bicycle wreck… But things are finally settling down now and getting into a routine.
I suppose I should admit that a major reason I've felt inspired again on this story is the Devil May Cry anime. I had been waiting for it since I found out about it at the Tokyo Game Show last year, and then when it finally came out I was too distracted with everything else to remember to watch it. I caught up a few weeks ago though, and while it certainly isn't the best thing ever, it is fun. But seriously, their shallow characterizations are a bit annoying. More about that later, I'm sure…
I had the first couple sections of this chapter written before my last post months ago, but the rest of it is all fairly recent. Hope that doesn't ruin the flow of things. But enough talk. I hope you like it.
Chapter Seven
Hallowed Ground
Michael was dozing in an unfortunately uncomfortable position in the hallway. Karasuma had joined Dante and their strange new ally in the kitchen, and he could hear the muffled echoes of their conversation through the thin walls, but other than the soft sound of their voices the house was silent. The storm had died away hours ago and a gentle rain was falling outside, refracting the first rays of the sun as it rose over the horizon.
He sat up straight as soon as he heard the scrape of a door sliding open and shook off his sleep quickly, focusing on the hunched figure stepping out into the hallway. "It must be morning already," Hamada said, conveniently focusing on a mundane topic of conversation before Michael could start asking questions. "Are you hungry, dear?" Michael opened his mouth to protest, but a growl from his stomach gave him away. Hamada's smile widened and she began making her way down the hall. "I'll heat up some miso."
Michael looked back at the doorway just in time to see Robin emerge from the dark room. She looked ethereally beautiful despite the obvious fatigue in her eyes, and he couldn't be sure, but her skin seemed nearly luminescent, glowing despite the lack of light. "Robin?" he questioned faintly. "Are you okay?"
She nodded, but her expression was less than reassuring. "How long were we in there?" She glanced back at the dark room.
"Almost eight hours," Michael replied hesitantly, gathering his things and leading her down the hall toward the kitchen. "Karasuma and I actually tried to open the door at one point, but Hamada must have locked it somehow—and warded it as well. Dante told us to give you more time anyway. He was still weak from the poison, but he said that he could sense you well enough to know that you weren't in any danger. I was still worried though."
Hamada arrived in the kitchen just before them, and Michael squinted into the brightly lit doorway as she greeted everyone in a pleasant tone. "Good morning. Is everyone hungry for some breakfast?"
Michael instinctively stepped in front of Robin when a blur of movement pushed Hamada back against the wall just inside the door. He relaxed minutely when he saw Dante casually pressing a knife against Hamada's throat. The blood-darkened bandage wrapped around his shoulder and chest was blatantly visible through the opening in his unbuttoned shirt, and Robin gasped softly.
"I don't think so," Dante said crisply, a wry smile twisting his lips. "I've had more than enough of your home style cooking, Baba Yaga."
"How threatening," Hamada said without visible concern for the sharp blade against her neck. Her dark eyes shifted to the table and the exotic woman seated next to Karasuma. Michael still didn't know what to think about her. He had seen her transform from a sword into a human form—or at least what appeared to be human—with his own eyes, but he still had trouble believing what she really was. Karasuma seemed equally uneasy about her, but they both had to trust Dante's opinion at this point. "I see you managed to awaken the sword…good for you."
"Yeah, good for me," Dante mimicked. "Like you didn't already see that coming."
A sad smile curved Hamada's lips. "I didn't. As I already explained, I do not see everything that is going to happen. I knew only that you would learn something important to your journey while Robin and I were occupied."
"You knew something about the sword," Dante insisted.
"I knew it was a possessed weapon and that it would prove useful someday. Though I never saw it in a vision, I must admit I half suspected that it would have something to do with your revelation." Her gaze focused on his bandaged shoulder and she frowned. "I never would have given you the poison if I hadn't felt confident you would be able to survive the experience, though."
"Easy to say now." Dante's eyes glinted with menace and he pressed the blade closer to her skin.
"Dante." Michael had been paying too much attention to Hamada and Dante to notice Robin slip by him. Placing a hand lightly on his arm, Robin murmured, "Please, let her go."
Dante's anger visibly melted away as he shifted his attention to her. "Hey, kiddo. How are you doing? Did Fairy Godmother here manage to teach you anything?"
"I think so," Robin replied softly, frowning as she tugged at his elbow.
Reluctantly, Dante released Hamada and took a slow step away from her. Hamada merely brushed herself off and arranged her clothes. "Ah, that's better."
Robin immediately stepped closer to Dante, peering beneath the edge of his shirt curiously and inspecting his bandage with furrowed brows. "What happened?"
"Vengeance happened." Dante nodded toward the stranger at the table. "She has a grudge against my brother and mistook me for him."
Blinking up at him in surprise, Robin repeated, "Your brother?" Michael pricked his ears. Dante had been unwilling to explain anything about his sibling to the rest of them, but if anyone had a chance of getting him to open up it was Robin.
Dante shifted uncomfortably under her gaze. "Yeah." Continuing in a rush as if he was hoping no one would notice that he had paused, he said, "Anyway, it just so happens that she was once the guardian of a gateway to the demon world. If we can get her back home, she's our ticket to hell."
Michael couldn't interpret Robin's expression. She seemed partially relieved to hear that they had a plan of action, but he imagined that she was still uncomfortable with the thought of opening a path to the underworld. He couldn't blame her; the idea of it still scared the shit out of him.
"I suppose you will be leaving now that you have what you need, then?" Hamada regarded Dante coolly.
"Why don't you tell me?"
Ignoring his sarcasm Hamada turned to Robin. "Before you go, there is something I want to give you, Robin." She crossed the room and opened a drawer next to the sink. Removing a tray of utensils, she pulled a key from her pocket and turned a lock at the bottom of the drawer before lifting a wooden panel. She pulled a manila envelope from the hiding place and handed it to Robin delicately. "Before Solomon discovered what we had done and we were forced to flee, I managed to collect some of Touda's documents. I believe they will be useful to you in the future."
Taking the envelope and hugging it to herself, Robin smiled faintly. "Thank you…for everything."
Karasuma stood slowly and Vengeance followed her example. "Well, should we get going?" she asked, obviously eager to put as much distance between themselves and Hamada as possible. While Robin seemed to trust Hamada more than she had before, the rest of them had seen little reason to do the same.
Buttoning up his shirt, Dante cocked his head as he looked at Hamada pointedly. "Any words of wisdom before we go, granny?"
Smiling that sweet smile at him, Hamada replied, "Though I saw much of what would occur while you were here, I can discern very little about your future from this point onward. Robin's powers will continue to develop--that much is certain. This may create unexpected complications which I hope can be alleviated somewhat by those papers." She nodded to the envelope in Robin's arms. "As for the rest of what I have seen, I cannot tell you anything for fear of changing the course of the future."
"That's it?" Dante prodded with a raised brow, shrugging into his jacket. "Not even the winning Lotto numbers?"
Hamada smiled wryly. "My powers don't work that way. They are not meant for personal gain."
Dante scoffed. "Right. Almost forgot you were a selfless humanitarian."
"We should go." Karasuma gestured toward the door, smiling tightly.
"Couldn't agree with you more." Dante was already heading down the hall toward the door, Vengeance following wordlessly in his wake.
----------
Robin didn't know who she was anymore. Her sense of self had already been obscured by her missing memories, but now that she had scratched the surface of her true powers she was afraid it had fractured beyond repair.
Hamada had helped her to reach those powers, had drawn them to the surface and tested them one by one. Even after all the exercises, Robin only had a cursory understanding of her own strength; she wasn't sure if she could even call on her power with any reliability, but at least she would not be surprised by it again.
Not that she could remember being surprised by it in the first place. She couldn't remember saving Dante's life, or facing Lucifer on the battlefield. She had hoped that those memories would return as she accessed her abilities, but she was no closer to closing the gap in her memory than she had been before. The disappointment was crushing and only added to her feeling of despondency.
The trip back to Kyoto had been quiet, and Robin had kept to herself, lost in her own thoughts. They had returned to the hotel for some much-needed sleep, but sleep had obstinately eluded her and she had finally grown tired of tossing and turning and managed to slip out of the hotel room she was sharing with Karasuma and into the hall. Normally, when she couldn't sleep or was troubled, she would find her way to the nearest church to pray. The tranquil quiet of a church always made her feel safe, and though she occasionally had her doubts about her own worthiness to enter such a sacred place, it had always felt like home to her.
With the recent revelations about her birth and the reasons for her creation, she worried that she might no longer be welcome in such a place at all. God loved all creatures equally and without reservation, but according to Hamada, her powers at their full capacity could be enough to rival even that of the heavens. She didn't think she could enter a church with a free conscience at the moment, so she had no idea where to turn to find the peace of mind she craved.
To her surprise, Michael was sitting in the lobby when she arrived there, absorbed in a video game. Her first instinct was to avoid him and slip outside before he noticed her, but something inside of her yearned for company despite her confusion. She found herself wandering over to his seat and hovering beside him quietly.
"Robin!" he exclaimed when he finally noticed her, self-consciously adjusting his glasses on his nose. "What are you doing up?"
She shrugged. "I couldn't sleep."
Closing his Nintendo DS and nodding awkwardly, he agreed, "Yeah. Me either."
An uncomfortable silence settled over them and Robin almost regretted interrupting him. Burying her hands in the pockets of her jacket, she glanced around the lobby and searched her mind frantically for something to say.
Finally, Michael broke the silence, his gaze drifting over to the sunny street framed by tall windows along the lobby's outer wall. "Hey! Do you want to go sightseeing?"
Robin blinked at him in surprise, his suggestion catching her completely off guard.
Michael started putting his game away as if she had already agreed, continuing eagerly, "Hamada said you should be able to hold your own against Lucifer now, and there's this shrine here in Kyoto that I've always wanted to see. It's really cool—I think you'd love it—but I didn't really want to make the trip by myself, you know. It's more fun to share it with someone else anyway."
Startled, but warming to the concept, Robin asked quietly, "What about the others?"
Shouldering his backpack decisively, Michael replied, "We'll leave a message at the front desk."
"I don't know…"
"Come on," Michael pleaded gently. "It would be good for you to get out and do something fun." His eager expression made the last of her resolve crumble.
"Okay," Robin agreed finally. She knew that she should be more cautious, but she was frankly tired of being cautious—tired of never going anywhere without an entourage of protectors. Maybe they were being foolish to go off on their own, but she found it difficult to even care about the consequences at the moment.
Fushimi Inari Taisha was a short train trip from their hotel and they were greeted by the first of the bright red gates that had made the shrine famous immediately upon leaving the station. She knew very little about Japanese religion, but Michael explained that this shrine was dedicated to Inari, the Shinto god of rice, and pointed out the fox komainu, or guardians on either side of the main gates.
Robin was immediately struck by the peacefulness of the area as she followed Michael past the main hall of the shrine and up a set of stone steps. More fox guardians greeted them along the way, holding various objects in their mouths, each symbolic of different aspects of the harvest. They eventually made their way to the beginning of a long path lined with more bright red gates—torii, as Michael referred to them—and the sun cast dappled shadows across the stone walkway, filtering through the canopy of trees above.
Michael disappeared around a bend of the path ahead of her, but she didn't hurry to catch up, losing herself in the magical tranquility of the moment and realizing that she had managed to find a sanctuary after all. As she wandered through the sturdy wooden arches, catching glimpses of the wooded area beyond and listening to the quiet sounds of nature and hushed whispers of other visitors to the shrine, she realized that her fears had been unfounded. God was not a localized phenomenon and did not exist only within the confines of a church; she could find him here as well, and she was still welcome, no matter what she had become.
The path wound and twisted its way through the trees, splitting into two separate paths at one point which both ended at an inner building of the shrine. She caught up to Michael there, and he pointed out the paper strips tied to a stand at the entrance of another torii-lined path.
"These are called omikuji," he explained. "They tell your fortune, but I'm afraid to try it right now. I don't think I want to know anything more than Hamada already told us. Instead, I think I'll just write down our wishes and hope for the best." He held up a wooden board he had purchased at a small shop they had passed along the way. Robin waited with him while he wrote on the board, watching as he hung it on one of the hooks next to the shrine and making a silent prayer of her own.
They continued their exploration, winding their way down more circuitous paths of torii and watching as the morning light shifted, shafts of angled light cutting through the gaps between gates. The blanket of quiet woven throughout the shrine was punctuated only by the ethereal cry of distant birds and their own muffled footsteps.
Closing her eyes as they paused at an intersection of paths, Robin opened herself up to her craft, realizing as the morning turned into afternoon that she could feel a building of power in the earth beneath them. It was a benevolent kind of energy, an ancient gathering of power that centered itself in the shrine, rooted in the wishes and hopes of every individual who had visited the location. The energy danced through the air around them, and now that she was open to it she could feel it regarding her curiously as well.
"Robin?" Michael asked cautiously, interrupting her commune with the power of the shrine.
"This place is magnificent," she murmured in response. "It reminds me of some of the places in Italy." She opened her eyes and smiled at him, actually feeling the expression for the first time in a very long time. "Thank you for bringing me here, Michael."
Looking away from her sharply as if to hide the blush she could clearly see rising to his cheeks, he cleared his throat. "No problem." He glanced up at the sun winking through the foliage above them and added reluctantly, "But we probably should be getting back soon. Everyone will be worried."
Though she could have stayed there forever, she knew he was right. "Yes. We should go."
The shrine had given her a feeling of completeness that she knew would linger long after they left.
----------
They were getting close to their destination—or so Trish had assured him repeatedly. Frankly, it no longer mattered to Amon how far they still had to climb or how many labored steps remained between him and the so-called gate that would lead him back home. Each step was its own struggle, and he had lost track of time and distance in the monotony of the journey. He could no longer think beyond the next obstacle or even remember the last obstacle they had overcome.
While he had all but given up on trying to make sense of the warped landscape around them, he was aware, at least, that they were no longer simply traversing hills and valleys, but scaling an ancient, crumbling structure. According to Vergil, the gate was at the top of the tower, but Amon wasn't sure it would stay standing long enough for them to reach that point.
His boots crunched over gravel and broken glass as they rounded a corner and entered through a set of enormous, elaborately carved doors that were hanging askew from broken hinges. The walls and columns inside were less misshapen and distorted than most of the architecture in the underworld, but something about the space gave Amon a particularly strong sense of foreboding. From what he could determine by looking at the remains, most of the structure and numerous columns were originally constructed of some kind of opalescent white marble, and the floors had been adorned with reflective tile that shone even in the dusty space like a dark, faceted mirror. It had the loftiness and awe of a gothic cathedral--and it had absolutely no place in the demon world.
Stumbling over a loose shard of rock, Amon caught himself against a column and took a moment to rest, using the opportunity to focus on his companions. Trish was hugging her arms to herself and squinting into the blinding light pouring through shattered windows along one wall, a frown shadowing her features. Her expression was difficult to read, a mixture of wistfulness and regret. Vergil seemed to be bothered by the surroundings as well as he stood in the shadow of a large mound of marble which had probably been a statue at some point in time, his expression even more incomprehensible than usual.
"We should keep moving," Trish said with a sense of urgency, rubbing her arms and heading toward the gaping chasm smashed through the wall behind the pile of marble rubble.
Vergil watched her pass him coldly, his icy eyes narrowed and his lips curling with disgust. "How refreshing. For once you aren't begging to stop."
Trish ignored him, eyeing the rocky slope warily as she began picking a path over the debris.
Pushing himself away from the column when he realized that he had no choice but to catch up or get left behind, Amon focused again on putting one foot in front of the other. Vergil had been giving him more lessons during the brief breaks in their journey, and Amon was finally managing to rein in his craft fairly effortlessly. He was a long way from being able to utilize his craft easily, but at least he wasn't losing power with every breath he took. Still, even without the energy drain from constantly fighting his craft, surviving in the underworld was exhausting in its own right.
The sound of rock crashing down against broken floor tiles reverberated dully through the space and Amon's eyes snapped up, searching for the source of the disturbance. It seemed that Trish had lost her footing near the crest of the slope, but Vergil had caught her around the waist and prevented her from sliding all the way back down.
Pausing at the bottom of the mound of rock, Amon watched them silently, noting the way Trish jerked away from Vergil and nearly lost her footing again. While Amon had been trying very hard not to notice the increased tension between the two, the animosity had grown to such a point that it was too obvious to ignore. While their mutual dislike had been established from the beginning, Amon was beginning to wonder if something more substantial had happened between them during one of his unconscious spells.
"If you don't get your hand off me, I'll break your fingers," Trish snarled, the ferocity of her tone at odds with the relative innocence of the situation.
"Little good that would do," Vergil commented, his expression darkening. "My fingers would heal before I noticed the difference."
Trish smiled tightly, the expression nearly a grimace. "Let me rephrase, then. If you don't get your hand off me, I'll cut it off."
Vergil raised an eyebrow. "How violent."
Though Amon's senses were admittedly not working at full speed at the moment, he was entirely unable to follow Trish's movement before she was pressing the tip of a knife against Vergil's throat. "That's not the only thing I'll cut off either," she hissed in Vergil's face. "I'd like to see you grow that back."
Swallowing in discomfort at the unspoken meaning behind Trish's words, Amon took an uncertain first step onto the loose rock and silently hoped that they would refrain from any serious violence until after they had opened the gate.
Vergil stepped away from Trish finally, his hands raised in a gesture of surrender. His expression had not changed. "Your threats are unnecessary."
"Oh?" Trish still had her knife pointed unwaveringly at him.
"I assure you that I will refrain from catching you the next time you fall." Turning his back on her, Vergil swept over the rest of the splintered stone with seemingly little effort, leaving them behind without another look in their direction.
Trish's hand began shaking before he was out of sight, and the trembling seemed to work its way up her arm and to the rest of her body. She was gasping for breath by the time she finally managed to slide the knife back into its sheath, wiping her hands on her pants as if to wipe away sweat. Amon had never seen her so unsettled, and though he was not usually bothered by such things, he knew how helpless he currently was, and how much more helpless he would be without her helping him along the way.
Stopping to catch his breath on a slab of rock next to her, Amon glanced at her curiously. "Are you okay?" he asked weakly.
Surprised by his question, her blue eyes focused on him and blinked several times before she replied. "I'm fine. He…just really gets on my nerves." He did not even question the authenticity of her smile; even he--who was far from skilled at judging emotions on a good day—could tell that she was obviously forcing the expression.
"He clearly does more than that," Amon replied dryly, testing an oblong chunk of marble for stability before putting his weight on it.
"This place brings back memories," Trish said sadly, following along behind him and deftly changing the subject without responding to his comment. "I was born here—and I nearly died here as well. It was a bit of a shock when we walked through those doors into this room of all places."
Amon glanced back at her curiously, uncertain of her meaning.
"The demon world is constantly in flux," Trish explained. "Things…move around. This place was once part of the human world, an extension of the underworld that had managed to latch on to the other side. Dante destroyed it, and it must have tumbled back down into this world. I hadn't expected to find it so close to the gate though."
Finally they made their way through the makeshift opening in the wall into the ruddy haze beyond. Amon was careful not too look to closely at the nauseating vista below, focusing instead on the crumbling rock around him. "Wonderful," he muttered when he made sense of the path ahead. "More steps." The stairway spiraled around the tower twice before broadening and leading up to a platform at the top. Amon nearly collapsed on the last step when he saw that their journey was finally over.
Standing regally near the tall structure at the center of the platform, his long coat catching fitfully in the wind, Vergil was either too wrapped up in his inspection of the edifice to notice their approach or simply too uninterested in them to bother acknowledging their presence.
Trish lingered at Amon's side, watching Vergil warily. "This is it," she whispered. "The gate."
"We made it," Amon whispered, exhaustion settling around his shoulders now that their goal was in sight.
"There's no point in trying to open it right now," Vergil announced suddenly without shifting his attention from the carved column before him. His fingers traced over the stone reverently as he continued, "This text says that the gate can only be opened at specific times. The next window is still several hours away."
"Why am I not surprised?" Sighing in resignation, Trish glanced at Amon. "You should take advantage of the opportunity and try to get some rest, though. You'll need all the energy you can get to survive the trip through the gate."
Shifting his attention from her and back to Vergil, Amon shook his head. "No. I'll stay awake."
"What?" Trish was clearly unprepared for his response, her eyes wide as she blinked back at him.
Amon walked a few paces across the platform. "I couldn't possibly sleep now that we're this close." Leaning against a nearby column for support, he added, "You're the one who needs rest anyway. You haven't slept at all during the last few breaks we've taken."
Trish stared at him wordlessly, her lips parted as if she wanted to respond but couldn't find a way to refute his observation.
While he wasn't sure why he cared, he couldn't help feeling a bit of pity for her. She had been very considerate of him during their time in the underworld, and he knew that he probably wouldn't have survived the journey without her help. Whatever the source of her difficulties with Vergil, he owed it to her to do what he could to ease her mind. Crossing his arms over his chest, he repeated reluctantly, "Rest. I'll keep watch as you sleep."
"I don't…"
While he was feeling generous, Amon didn't have the patience for her attempts to keep up a strong façade. He barely had the restraint to even make this sacrifice in the first place. "Something obviously happened between the two of you while I was unaware," he interrupted her bluntly. "If you are concerned about letting your guard down because of him, than I will keep an eye on him for you so that you can rest. I may not be any match for him in a fight, but I think I can manage to wake you before he could pose a threat. I have a feeling you will need your energy to get through the gate as much as I will, so you should get some rest while you still have the chance."
An expression of wonder mingled with gratefulness and regret crossed her face. "Amon, you really don't need to—"
"I'll do it anyway."
Emotion swept across Trish's features and she looked away from him sharply. "Thank you," she murmured.
-------
The bus barreled down the narrow road as it snaked back and forth up the mountainside.
Karasuma had long since tired of gazing out the window at the mist wreathed peaks or of trying to make small talk with Michael without descending into motherly ranting about his foolish sightseeing trip with Robin in Kyoto. She had already lectured him enough that he was becoming adept at tuning her out. At the moment, he was listening to music on his headphones while typing furiously on his laptop, effectively cutting himself off from her though he was sitting in the adjacent seat.
Sighing in impatience, Karasuma flipped through the small brochure she had picked up at the train station. Despite its name, Mount "Fear" was apparently a relatively popular pilgrimage site, drawing all those who had lost loved ones—especially those who had lost children—to a place on the border between this reality and the next. Mourning parents came to Osorezan to visit their children and pray to ease their tormented souls. Some even tried to contact the soul of their loved ones through blind mediums skilled at making contact with the spiritual realm.
Karasuma shivered, already anticipating the intense emotions she knew would be shrouding the place. It was bad enough that the goal of their journey involved opening a path to hell without the emotional memory of thousands of visitors' grief and loneliness weighing her down. She knew her craft would be difficult to control with so much emotional turmoil written over every surface of the mountain, but she also knew that she had no choice but to reign it in.
Glancing out the window again, Karasuma noted that the scenery had transitioned into a misty bamboo forest. Stone jizo statues stood guard along the roadside at various intervals, monuments to the souls of dead children adorned with bibs and decorated with colored pinwheels that glinted brightly out of the gloom. The anticipation was tying her stomach in knots, so she turned away from the window once again, looking across the small aisle to her companions seated on the other side of the bus.
Dante was slouched comfortably in his seat, his eyes closed and his head lolling slightly as he dozed. How he could possibly sleep at a time like this was beyond her. In contrast to his complacency, Robin was turned halfway in her seat, gazing intently out the window, one of her hands pressed against the glass.
Nestled on the shelf above their heads, Vengeance lay within the confines of a guitar case Dante had purchased to keep the massive sword hidden. While Vengeance could manage to pass as human physically, she had already proven on their trip from Kyoto to Aomori prefecture that she couldn't be trusted to keep the fact that she was anything but human hidden. Karasuma was fairly certain that she did it inadvertently, but she couldn't help thinking it had something to do with Vengeance's distaste for humans and her unwillingness to be associated with them.
The rest of the trip passed uneventfully, and before long they were gathering their luggage and clamoring out of the bus. An unpleasant odor immediately filled her nostrils as she stepped outside and she struggled not to cringe.
Dante had no problem voicing his revulsion though, grumbling loudly, "Whew. Someone definitely had the beans for lunch," as his boots crunched over the gravel behind her. "And probably dinner—and breakfast too. "
"It's the sulfur," Michael explained unnecessarily, his nose wrinkling as he took in their surroundings.
Karasuma caught herself before she rested a hand against the sturdy wood of a nearby fence, but was still shivering at the close call when a tourist brushed up against her. Quickly repressing her craft as sorrow and loneliness washed over her, she stopped for a moment to catch her breath. Her companions paused beside her, taking the opportunity to stretch their legs before they followed the path through the torii outside Bodaiji temple.
Stretching his arms over his head, Dante turned in a slow circle, surveying the picturesque peaks along the horizon cloaked in hazy wisps of cloud. "It's a bit of a misnomer, isn't it?" he commented dryly. "Not even a mountain really."
"What did you expect?" Karasuma asked—mostly to distract herself from her dread of entering the temple and venturing into the cloud of intense emotion she knew she would encounter there.
"I don't know…lava flows and ash falling from the sky maybe. The smell's bad enough though, I suppose." He shrugged and then began walking again, the guitar case swinging against his back.
"Are you okay?" Robin asked, looking up at her attentively.
Caught off guard, Karasuma tried to hide her discomfort. "I'm fine. Thank you for asking, Robin. It's just that this place is so full of emotional memories…"
Robin nodded in understanding. "It must be difficult to block them out."
"It's just a little overwhelming. But I'll be okay," Karasuma reassured her with a smile.
They caught up with Dante and Michael at the entrance to the temple.
"I see that they offer free baths." Dante smiled suggestively. "And from what I can tell, they're co-ed. Care to take a dip, Miho, and wash away the dust of traveling?"
Karasuma shook her head and kept walking. "Do you really want to coat your body in water that smells like rotten eggs?"
Dante shrugged. "If the view is right."
"Co-ed baths aren't all they're cracked up to be, Dante," Michael explained quickly, noticing the murderous look on Karasuma's face. "I just saw a couple of old ladies go in there."
"We have several hours before sunset," Karasuma said, trying to steer their conversation back to the task at hand. "I suggest we secure our lodging for the night and then explore the area a bit. Do you think you'll be able to locate the place we're looking for without…?" She hesitated.
"Without our pointy friend's help?" Dante smirked. "I don't think that will be a problem. I can already feel something in the air—a pull in the energy currents."
"I feel it too," Robin murmured gravely, her brows furrowed; whatever she was feeling didn't seem to appeal to her. Karasuma couldn't feel anything specific with all the emotional turmoil in the air confusing her craft, but she didn't doubt her companions' observations.
After discarding their luggage in the rooms at the temple, they wandered outside and explored the temple grounds, following a rocky path past stone Buddhas silhouetted against the grey sky. The path led through a volcanic wasteland of malformed ashen rocks, a monochromatic landscape overshadowed by the misty peaks in the distance and broken only by the occasional splash of color in vibrant red or yellow pools of bubbling liquid.
Karasuma was quickly coming to understand where Osorezan had gotten its name, and as they traveled farther down the path in the wake of mourners and tourists, she began to wish that their business on the mountain could have been done in the light of day. The atmosphere was otherworldly enough in broad sunlight—deathly still and silent other than the harsh calls of ravens as they darted and dove through the vaporous drafts high above their heads. She had no desire to see it in the dark with the sickly glow from sulfurous pools reflecting the hazy light of the heavens in a parody of starlight.
The scent of burning incense wafted from makeshift stone monuments built along the borders of the path, mingling with the pungent smell of sulfur in meandering wisps of vapor and smoke. Frowning at the small memorials adorned with cloth and coins, Karasuma thought of all the pilgrims who had made the trip to this place in the hope of reaching their loved ones past the boundary of death. It saddened her to think that a place filled with such human longing and sadness could be a doorway through which demons could enter the world.
"We're getting closer," Dante announced, slowing his pace ahead of her as he observed their surroundings more closely. They were approaching a red bridge that arched elegantly over a narrow stream.
"That's Sanzu River," Michael informed them. "They say that the souls of the dead have to cross it to escape."
Robin stumbled and Karasuma barely caught her in time before she landed on her hands and knees in the dirt. "Robin?"
Trying to catch her breath, Robin accepted her assistance and managed to stand up again though she was wavering on her feet. "I'm all right," she breathed. "But the power is starting to get to me. I can feel the energy of the gate as we get closer. It feels almost like it's weighing me down—as if my feet get heavier with every step toward it."
Frowning in worry, Karasuma looked up and met Dante's equally worried eyes. "Do you think it's much farther?"
"My guess is that it's just on the other side of this bridge."
"I can make it," Robin insisted, but Karasuma kept a firm hold on her arm as they crossed the bridge. She could feel the girl trembling beside her.
The bridge led to the shore of a large lake nestled in the hollow between mountain peaks. They passed small groups of tourists picnicking on the rocky white beach alongside more stone monuments adorned with pinwheels and various offerings. Mists floated over the surface of the lake, and though it was eerily beautiful, the winds blowing off the still waters smelled unpleasant and Karasuma doubted it would support life of any kind.
Finally, Dante stopped and turned in a slow circle. Spotting a small stone platform, he grinned broadly and nodded. "Who knew this would be so easy?"
When she got closer to it, Karasuma could see that the platform was actually designed to hold something; it seemed to be a display for an ornament of some kind, though the ornament was currently absent. Before she could get close enough to get a good look at it though, a sharp voice startled her. Dante, on the other hand, didn't seem concerned by the shouts from the middle aged woman as she exited a tent erected farther down the beach; unperturbed, he continued to inspect the platform with a satisfied expression.
"She says that you shouldn't be touching it," Karasuma warned him.
"Yeah, yeah. I get it." He took a step away from the stone, his hands held up in a gesture of innocence as the woman's cries became more irate.
Karasuma noted that the crowds of pilgrims parted around the woman respectfully as she approached them across the sand. A man at her side was helping her along, and it was only when Karasuma saw the woman's unfocused gaze that Karasuma realized she was blind.
"She's an itako," Michael whispered in awe. "She's one of the mediums who can make contact with the spiritual world."
"Great," Dante said with a grin. "Maybe we can ask her the quickest way to hell."
The woman immediately focused on Dante when she got closer, her face creased as she frowned deeply at him. She began speaking rapidly, lecturing him for touching the vengeance stone and disturbing the spirits.
"It's bad enough that the vengeance stone is no longer contained by its master without gaijin angering the displaced souls that cling to it," the woman said with a scowl.
"Its master?" Karasuma asked curiously.
"Yes," the man beside the itako explained courteously. "Many years ago the sword that was housed within the vengeance stone was stolen. The sword kept the evil spirits at bay and allowed the other souls to find peace."
Dante nodded. "Just as I thought."
The itako's eyes focused on him despite her lack of sight. "You…" she breathed.
"Me?" Dante replied with a chuckle.
The woman's eyelashes fluttered and her pupils contracted. Her voice monotone, she said sharply, "Your brother. He is searching for you."
Dante's smile faded, his blue eyes flashing gold in the sunlight.
"He is dangerous—tainted by darkness, a soul divided in two." Her voice was gaining intensity as she continued, and she suddenly reached out and caught one of Dante's hands as she continued, "He is close now—closer than you think. He cannot be trusted…and yet…" Her eyes closed and she shook her head briefly as if shaking away a dream.
"And yet?" Dante whispered, his voice dark with emotion.
"I'm sorry," the woman muttered, quickly pulling her hand away from him as if his touch had burned her. "I can tell you nothing more. I've lost contact with the spirit."
Glancing between Dante and the itako in worry, the man beside her said quickly, "I apologize. Tanaka-sama is weary. Please excuse us." He began to lead the itako away from them, adding as an afterthought, "And please refrain from disturbing the vengeance stone again."
Dante's jovial attitude was nowhere to be seen as he watched them walk away, his expression pensive. Questions about his relationship with his estranged brother clamored in her mind, but she decided not to voice any of them; she could tell from his posture that he would not be receptive to such questions at the moment.
"Do you think this is it, then?" Michael asked eagerly when the itako was out of earshot. "Is this the gate?" Without getting too close, he stood on his toes and examined the platform curiously.
"She said that a sword used to be housed here," Karasuma replied, still watching the uncharacteristically silent Dante. "It's too perfect to be mere coincidence."
"I think I need to go back," Robin said suddenly, her voice weak.
Though Michael's question hadn't even gotten a reaction from Dante, he immediately looked at Robin when she spoke. "I don't think you should be here tonight," he said seriously.
Startled, Karasuma looked back at him. "What do you mean? I thought you were depending on Robin's power to help open the gate."
"I don't think it will be necessary. Vengeance can open the gate practically on her own anyway, and just look at her. She's already looks like she's going to pass out, and we haven't even unleashed the potential of power in this area."
"He's right." Robin clung tightly to Karasuma's arm. "I'll only get in the way here."
Observing her ghostly pallor, Karasuma said quickly, "Come on. Let's start heading back."
Robin nodded wordlessly and they began the return journey to the temple. Dante followed along behind them, lost in thought, and Karasuma looked back several times to make certain he was still there. The way back seemed easier, and Robin leaned on her less with every step. Soon, Robin was walking entirely under her own power and some of her color had returned.
Feeling more at ease, Karasuma gestured to one of the restaurants outside the temple. "We should stop and get something to eat."
"Sounds great," Michael exclaimed. "I'm starving."
Even Robin's mood brightened at the suggestion and she immediately entered into a debate with Michael about what kind of food was more appetizing. Karasuma let them discuss it without interjecting, focusing instead on Dante, who still hadn't said a word.
"What do you think?" she asked him mildly, trying to pull him out of his reverie.
"Hm? Oh. I don't care. I'm not really hungry."
Karasuma's eyes widened. "Not…hungry?" Though she had not known him long, one thing he had proven time and again was that he never passed up an opportunity to eat. "Is it because of what the itako told you about your brother?"
His eyes narrowed. "My brother's dead," he said coldly. "She was only trying to spook me so I wouldn't go near the stone again."
"I see." She nodded slowly to appease him, but she didn't think that even he believed what he was saying. "So, the reason you think Robin should stay behind isn't because—"
Cutting her off sharply, he said loudly, "I think we should go to that place over there." Looking up at him in surprise, Robin and Michael quickly agreed and they all started across the square toward the restaurant. Dante attempted to regain his cheerful air, but Karasuma could see how difficult it was for him to conjure it up again.
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Vergil couldn't understand it—and he loathed being unable to understand something, especially something so mundane. Though he was human--and therefore inherently foolish--Amon was fairly predictable to Vergil; his attempts to be tough and deal with his inadequacies on his own were unsurprising, and his selfishness in his interactions with Trish was likewise comprehensible. What Vergil could not understand was why he would bother to stand guard over Trish now while she slept restlessly on the ground beside him.
His actions were illogical on several levels. Not only was it of absolutely no benefit to the human to stay awake and let her sleep, but it was also useless for him to think he could defend her for even a moment. The fact that Amon was guarding her and not simply unable to sleep had never been anything less than fact in Vergil's mind; he knew that she trusted him even less now, and it seemed that even Amon had picked up on her attitude. Vergil found the entire situation comical. Though she likely wouldn't believe him even if he told her, Vergil had absolutely no intention of touching her again.
On top of his inability to comprehend his companions' actions, he was having serious doubts about his own sanity. Walking through the crumbling cathedral space on the floor below had been particularly unnerving. He knew that he had been in that place before, had lived there and served the being symbolized by the pile of rubble which had once been a towering statue sculpted into a godly aspect. He knew it, and yet could not remember it. The sense of knowing felt like a memory from another person's life—it did not belong to him, and yet it was there, overshadowed by that dark presence in his mind.
Shaking the eerie sensation away, he turned his attention from his troubled thoughts and focused on his companions again with a frown. Pushing himself away from the stone he had been leaning against while he attempted to meditate, he approached them slowly. "It's almost time," he announced with a casual air, watching in disgust as hope rose in the human's eyes. How anyone could be so eager to return to that pathetic world was another thing that was beyond Vergil's comprehension.
Vergil paused, glaring down at Trish. "Wake her quickly. I don't intend to wait for the next window." Looking away from her quickly, Vergil quelled the strange sense of panic he felt every time he looked at her. He rarely lost control, but he had done exactly that with her in his attempt to ensure that Dante would feel the way he wanted him to feel toward his long, lost brother returned from the dead. It had been necessary to do something unspeakable to spark his brother's hatred, and yet Vergil had gotten more carried away than he usually allowed. That didn't mean that he regretted doing what had to be done. He simply felt he had enjoyed it far too much—enough so that he had allowed his body and baser instincts to take control of his actions without his intellect holding them in check.
The sound of boots crunching against the rock-strewn ground announced his companions' approach, but he did not look away from the column before him. Soon he would be returning to the world of his birth—the world he had been willing to do almost anything to escape. Closing his eyes, he found his hand reaching for the pendant around his neck and remembered too late that the pendant was no longer in his possession.
Dante. A familiar ache tugged at Vergil's chest.
"Well?" Trish prompted sharply. "We're here. Are we going to do this or not?"
Opening his eyes again, Vergil slid his sword from its sheath and tucked the sheath beneath one arm. He rested the razor edge of the blade against his hand, watching in wonder as he sliced sharply into his skin and crimson welled up into the curve of his palm. Trish gasped in surprise, but he ignored her, placing his bloody hand against the column and watching as the runes engraved into its surface flared to life.
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Cool air tainted by the sour smell of volcanic runoff billowed through the open doorway, clouds moving across the moon casting gauzy shadows across the tatami. Robin paused in the doorway, suddenly unsure of herself as she regarded the devil hunter silhouetted against the moonlit courtyard. She shifted on her feet, watching as he pulled on a heavy boot roughly and zipped it up with a sigh.
"I won't bite," he said with a sideways smile.
Robin's hands clenched in her skirt as she crossed the threshold into the dark room. Standing beside him on the edge of the porch, she hesitated again, feeling very awkward around this man she barely knew who had been so kind to her for no reason she could understand. "Karasuma is worried about you doing this alone," she said quietly, wishing the night would swallow her words. She had brought up Karasuma's feelings because she didn't feel familiar enough with him to voice her own.
He glanced up at her as he reached for his other boot. "Of course she is. Just like she's worried that I drank too much at dinner. I swear I could have done without a mother on this trip."
Robin bit her lip and looked sadly out into the night.
Gazing up at her again when he had finished fastening his other boot, Dante patted the porch next to him, inviting her to sit down. Clumsily Robin seated herself next to him, feeling his eyes on her as she straightened her skirt and avoided looking at him.
"Karasuma is worried because it's in her nature," he said firmly. "But I'm not opening the gate single-handedly. Vengeance is going to be doing most of the work, and it's not as if I don't know how to take care of myself, anyway."
"Vengeance doesn't seem to like you," Robin said carefully, daring a glance up at him.
Dante chuckled. "I don't think she likes anyone. It's not in her job description. She's a weapon, and if she has emotions, they're not human in nature—they're only the kind of warped imitation demons can manage. But she wanted to go home, and we brought her here. I don't see anything to be worried about. Even if she does try to double cross me, it's not like I've never fought a demon before. It's what I do for a living, remember?"
Though his words only made Robin feel slightly better, she nodded for his benefit.
"Hey," he said gently. "Want to tell me what's really bothering you?"
Swallowing, Robin found her hands clenching in her skirt again. "I've been thinking. What we're trying to do…opening a door to the underworld…it seems selfish."
She could feel his surprise clearly through their connection. "What do you mean?"
"We are doing it because we want to rescue our friends, but it's a dangerous risk to take," she said slowly and deliberately. "We are putting the whole world at risk by taking it, and our odds of success are slim. I'm starting to wonder if by doing it we're merely doing Lucifer's bidding. From what you told me about Beatrice, she went to a lot of trouble to do exactly what we're attempting now, and we went through a lot to stop her. I'm afraid that we're giving into temptation by selfishly risking everything to save only a few people when we should be focusing on saving everyone by destroying Lucifer instead."
Dante considered her silently, his expression grim. "Even with our connection…" he murmured, "I had no idea that's how you felt. I thought you wanted to bring Amon back more than anyone."
"I did—I do…" Robin wrung her hands. "But I don't think I should put what I want above everything else. I have a bad feeling about this, as if we are failing a test by putting our own interests before our duty to stop Lucifer."
"What about our duty to our comrades?" Dante's voice was cold and his feeling of betrayal was almost too much for her. While she was arguing against Amon's rescue, it wasn't for lack of wanting it. She wanted it so badly that the pain of the desire cut through her like a knife. But she felt guilty for wanting it when it could endanger the lives of innocents.
"Would they want us to risk the world to save them?" Robin honestly didn't know the answer to her question—she almost hoped he could answer it for her. She wanted him to tell her she was wrong, reassure her fears and tell why her argument didn't make sense.
A sour smile on his face, he looked away from her, his eyes focused on the rocky ground between his feet. "I'm sorry, Robin. I'm all for saving the world, but I can't just give up without trying. We have no leads on where to find Lucifer—no place to even start. If we knew where he was and what he was planning, then we would probably be there trying to stop him by now. But we don't have a clue.
"We do know where Amon and Trish are, though--and how to get there. I realize I don't take risks nearly as seriously as you do—which isn't to say I shouldn't—but I've been to hell before, and I've managed the trip there and back without bringing about the apocalypse." He sighed, leaning back on his hands and looking up at the stars as a bank of low hanging clouds slowly swallowed them a few at a time. "I respect your opinion, Robin, and I don't want you to think I'm ignoring what you're saying. The chances of us actually finding them waiting for us on the other side are microscopic, but I still have to try."
Robin frowned at him. "It feels like a trap."
He looked at her out of the corners of his eyes. "Are you saying that because of what that taco lady said? Even assuming she isn't some wacko quack, she supposedly communicates with the souls of the dead, right? And ghosts aren't anything to worry about. My brother's ghost can't possibly be any more irritating than he was when he was alive."
"But the itako said he was dangerous," Robin insisted, only blinking in surprise at the fact that his brother was dead.
"Like I said, she was trying to scare us off."
Frustration boiled up inside of her. He was being irrationally stubborn about this. "You act like it doesn't bother you, but I can feel that you are lying, Dante."
Dante sighed deeply. "Damn, you're a hard sell." Shifting beside her on the porch, he bent one leg in front of him and turned to face her. "Okay. Let's start over. I am opening that gate tonight, and I'm going to poke my head in and see what's on the other side. If you want to try to stop me, feel free. With your new funky powers, I don't doubt you could beat the shit out of me if you put your heart into it. But unless I'm physically incapacitated, I'm going through with this and I'm not changing my mind."
Though his tone was not exactly angry, she could feel hints of anger bubbling beneath his wry expression. She felt uncomfortable arguing with him—especially when half of her wanted to agree with what he was saying so very badly—but she felt that she couldn't just let her argument go without a satisfactory answer. Trying a different tactic, she asked quietly, "Are you sure your brother is dead?"
His eyes widened momentarily before he looked away, emotion twisting his features. "I killed him. I should know."
Robin clutched her hand to her chest as she felt a wave of pain and regret surge through their connection. Either he had been managing to keep these emotions from her all afternoon, or she had been so distracted by the malevolent energy saturating Osorezan that she had failed to notice them. "I'm sorry," she whispered.
He smirked suddenly, though the expression was painfully sardonic. "I'm not. It's not like we were ever close."
Losing the tenuous sense of certainty her determination had given her, Robin remained silent. She found she had no idea what else to say. Luckily, Dante spoke before she felt obligated to find a response.
Focusing his eyes on her again, he said gravely, "Listen. I'll make you a promise. If this doesn't work and Trish and Amon aren't there waiting on the other side, I won't go through the gate looking for them. We'll let it close and seal it up again. And then we'll focus on Lucifer and hope they can find their own way home. Deal?"
Tentatively, Robin asked, "And if your brother's on the other side instead?"
Smirking again as he rose to his feet abruptly and dusted off his jacket, he said with resolve, "Then I'll kill him again." Scooping up his guns and shoving them in their holsters, he turned to face her as he began backing toward the exit of the courtyard. "Take care of yourself while I'm busy, will you? I don't want to come back and find you trading hairstyling tips with Lucy. My guess is he uses human blood for hair gel."
Robin smiled faintly and nodded. "Be careful."
She watched him walk away into the night, thinking about Amon and praying that the next time she saw Dante, Amon would be with him—alive and in one piece. She knew she had no right to wish for such a thing so fervently. Amon was barely a friend and had rarely been kind to her, and yet his absence left an emptiness inside of her that she couldn't explain. She felt as if she had forgotten something very important among her missing memories, and she wanted to believe that she might remember it if she could only see him again.
Baba Yaga is a scary, cannibalistic witch figure in Slavic folklore used to scare children into behaving. She lives in a hut on the edge of the forest and is regarded as the devil's own grandmother. I took a Slavic Folklore class in college and found the Baba Yaga stories fascinating. How Dante knows the reference is anyone's guess. Probably the same way Sawyer knows most of the literary allusions he spouts in Lost…
Author's Note:
I have never been to Osorezan before, but my friend, Shivaindis, inspired me to use it as the location of the gate in my story, and the more I read about it the more interested I am in seeing it some day. A pretty spooky location to be sure.
Also, before I sign off I wanted to say that I can promise that everyone will be meeting up again in the next chapter. I had intended to work it into this chapter, but it didn't quite work out. Still, I can guarantee it because I've already written part of the chapter. I'll work hard to update as soon as I can! Until then, do your part and let me know what you think….please? I do so enjoy hearing from you. Plus, I've lost track of so many of my readers and I want to know what's going on with you. Don't feel like you have to stick straight to the facts. PM me if nothing else! I miss you guys!
---------One last thing…. Libera Me, the prequel to this story has been nominated for the UFO Fanfiction Awards. First round voting is still going on until the end of August, so if you enjoyed Libera Me and haven't voted already, go to www . dotmoon . net / awards / (remove spaces) and vote for my story.-------
