~*~ Rin dreams of hard lessons learned, and Bon is given a reminder about karma~*~
"But Dad, I don't understand." Rin sobbed, burying his face into his father's cassock.
School had been terrible, and the seven year old had gotten into another fight. He tried to do what his dad had said, telling a teacher, but it hadn't made a difference. As soon as the teacher left his classmates had gone back to teasing him. Aggravation, frustration and rage had welt up in him, the harsh taste of malice words stinging him one too many times.
He didn't remember punching the kid in the face, or the pain that shot through his little fist shaking him to the bone. The deafening crunch of the other boy's nose, the blood that ran down his face, that hadn't mattered. What mattered was Yukio who had watched from afar, dashing to Rin's defense as the bully fell to his knees, screaming senselessly for help. Only then did he realize what he'd done.
That was what Rin would tell his father as they sat in the principal's office. How the adults hadn't helped, how the boy continued his relentless teasing, and how Yukio had yelled at a teacher. The scornful look of the principal had tempted Rin to lash out, to scream his own defense, but his father controlled the situation with all the ease and grace that raising two young boys could offer.
It wasn't until they got home that Shiro was able to dissect his son's actions, sending the little boy sprawling into tears as he searched for an explanation. Although it wasn't the first time Rin had brawled, and Shiro knew it wouldn't be the last, every fight brought a new challenge, a new experience for the father to understand.
The old man sighed, hugging his son closer to him, ignoring the snot and tears that wiped onto his shoulder. "Rin, sometimes people don't realize what they are saying."
Rin sniffed hard and tried to blink back tears. His voice caught in his throat sending him into a light coughing fit as he sputtered out his confusion. "B-but why d-d-do they say those things?"
Looking through his glasses Shiro ran a hand through Rin's short hair, brushing his messy mop from his face. "Because Rin, people make fun of the things they don't understand."
More tears threatened to spill down the young boy's cheek, still hurting from the comments the other kids had made. While he didn't comprehend the exact meaning of their teasing he knew enough to understand the hatred behind their words.
"My Mom says little boys shouldn't live with a priest!" one had said, while another insisted that Shiro wasn't his dad at all. That was the last comment Rin remembered before returning to his senses as he was taken by the hand and brought to the office.
Rin gave a pathetic nod, wiping his face and nose roughly with the back of his sleeve, trying to put on his best brave face. He hated being a cry baby in front of his Dad.
Shiro leaned back on his knees, both hands placed on his son's shoulders. "Rin, listen to me. Just because someone makes you mad that doesn't mean you hurt them."
Rin's bottom lip quivered and his nose ran again. He inhaled a shaky breath. "What'd I do then, Dad? They make me so mad."
Pulling his sleeve down Shiro gently wiped a stray tear from Rin's face, silently bemoaning his difficult child. Why was it always Rin? Yes, Yukio was picked on, but Rin took it to heart, always. It was pathetically heart wrenching, and it always left the priest searching for the right words.
"You love them, Rin. Love is the only thing that will fix hate." His wisdom surpassed Rin, flying over his head like a kite.
Confused, but not wanting to seem disobedient Rin nodded again, his face now tear stained and nose still helplessly dripping.
Knowing he didn't understand Shiro sighed, and tried again. "Next time Rin, remember how much you love me, and how much you love Yukio. Think about that love and wonder if they have it, because they might not."
Concern replaced the doleful look on the youngster's face. The last stray tears fell from his eyes as he tried to comprehend the lesson he was being taught. "Why wouldn't they? They have daddies too."
Shiro nodded in agreement, thankful the waterworks had stopped. "They do, and some even have mommies, but you know what?"
Rin shook his head no, so Shiro continued. "That doesn't mean their mommy or daddy loves them as much as I do. Wouldn't that make you mad and jealous, if you didn't have a daddy that loved you?"
A silent moment followed, Rin's young mind working furiously to process the scenario his father had presented him. "You mean they don't give them sukiyaki like you do, or build snowmen, or give them piggy back rides?"
"Nope. Which is why they can be such jerks." Shiro explained with a smile.
Rin stood in front of his father who was still crouched down to his level, watching him to make sure he wasn't joking again. When he realized he was being serious a fresh batch of tears sprang from his eyes, causing his father's eyes to bulge in surprise.
"What's wrong now?" the man asked, frantically wondering what erroneous thing he'd said.
"T-t-t-hat is s-s-s-o sad!" Rin blubbered, choking on his own tears causing himself to cough again. "Everyone needs a-a-a good da-da-daddy like you!"
Shiro's heart melted and he drew his son into another tight embrace. "Oh, my Rin. It's alright. Love can come from so many places, you'll see."
With tears in his eyes Rin sat up in bed, his hotel room phone ringing continuously. His heart ached, not because of the lesson his father had attempted to teach him, but at the memory. The way his father held him, the smell of his cologne, the feel of his clothes.
The empty hole in his heart grew and he bit his lip, absent mindedly drawing a bead of blood. Relentlessly the phone rang, each high pitched "Pprriinnngg" cutting into his sleep laden mind like an axe into wood.
Gathering his emotions he allowed the phone to ring a moment longer before snatched it off the bed side table. "Hullo?"
"Good morning. We are just giving you a courtesy phone call to wake you. All member of the True Cross are expected to be in conference hall one by 7am." The woman on the other end of the line was entirely too cheerful for it being six in the morning.
"Thanks." Rin grumbled, slamming the phone back down on the receiver.
He rolled back over, looking up at the ceiling, his thoughts swimming with memories of his father. His heart aching he rolled over, remembering that fateful moment Shiro had stabbed his True Cross emblem into his heart, all to save Rin.
Tears stinging his eyes he rolled over, then saw something that made his blood run cold. There, sitting quietly on top of the blankets of the other bed, was a bag.
In the middle of chaos it was known that people would cling to the familiar; something, anything for their reeling mind to grasp. This unusual instinct caused Rin to get up and use the restroom, one of the first things he always did in the morning. Before leaving the bathroom he grabbed his pants and belt, properly dressing himself from the waist down.
Still with a sleeping mind he ambled back into the room, eyes locked on the bag. It was something you didn't want to look at, but something you looked at none the less. Like a car wreck or a crying stranger. His stomach turned and he reached out.
He grabbed the shoulder strap and pulled it up in the air, spilling the contents onto the bed. Kuro, stirred awake by the commotion, lifted his head and looked at Rin who stared at the mala beads with a blank expression.
"Did Bon come in last night?" he asked, hoping that it had been someone else.
Someone else who used mala beads, who wore the same size boots, who wore the same shirt. Anyone else, just not Bon. Hell, he would have rather Kuro said it was Yukio.
"Yea, but he left." Kuro admitted, crushing Rin's illusion of a hope. Sensing a storm in the distance Kuro tucked his ears against his head and slithered under the bed.
"When did he leave?" Rin asked, his voice becoming steel, rigid and cold.
The cat's green eyes flashed under the shadows of the bed. "When he came in…."
Still clutching the strap of the bag Rin stood, eyes glazed over as he stared at the pile of belongings. Unbelievable. Was he really that wild; that untamed? Was he really that much of a burden, that he deserved to be left like that?
He dropped the bag and crouched down where he stood, hands resting gently on his knees as he starred at the floor, desolate memories dancing in his head.
'He acts like such a demon.' His teachers.
'Those flames could kill people, ya know!' His friends.
'It's your fault Dad died.' His own brother.
Pain. Pain that stung the heart and bled the soul. Most of the time he did a good job hiding it. Putting on a smile and laughing with his friends. It helped, much like putting a band aid over a bleeding wound. You didn't acknowledge what you couldn't see, and what you didn't acknowledge would soon be forgotten.
To forget. That was easy, to force his waking mind to sleep, numbing him to memories that were best left forgotten. Inevitably the hibernating bear had to wake, ravenous and lethargic.
Silent tears trickled from his eyes down his nose, dripping onto the hardwood floor. Maybe this was all there was for him? Pain, suffering, loss. A vicious cycle that just seemed to repeat over and over.
Perhaps things would be better if he'd just left, take the advice that so many people had offered him and leave. They surely would be better for Bon, not hanging around with someone who attracted trouble like a moth to flame. Maybe he just needed to go away? Go anywhere, where he couldn't hurt people, where he couldn't burden people, where he could just exist.
The thought sullenly reminded him of Mephisto's description of Gehenna, and he idly wondered if that wasn't his true home. That would explain a lot, living in the wrong world. Demons just didn't belong here.
His brooding thoughts were abruptly interpreted. A rapping knock on his door drew his eyes up from the floor. He stood, his body moving without permission. Apparently he'd switched into automatic gears, acting without thinking.
He reached out and grasped the door handle, gently swinging it open. Whoever it had been didn't see fit to linger, as they had left three plain brown boxes abandoned in the hallway. Only one had Rin's name on it, the other two boasted a cursive "Ryuji Suguro". Rin's eyes hesitated on the longest box, which was a large rectangular shape, before promptly going back into his room and closing the door behind him.
The same phone call stirred Bon awake, Shima reaching over him to pick the phone up only to hang it back up immediately, grumbling furiously.
"Told them….." the blankets pulled from Bon and wrapped greedily around Shima. "Stop calling….." he rolled, tucking the blankets around himself, much like a burrito. "Stupid shit…" Stillness, then finally he fell silent.
Bon lay there, blinking as he thought about fighting Shima for the covers. Knowing it to be a lost cause he sat up and looked over at Konekomaru, who was rubbing his palms to his eyes, as if to wipe away the image of another day beginning.
Yawning, Bon stood, stretching the stiffness from his body. Remembering the promise he'd made to himself he gave Konekomaru a quick "Catch you later" and made for Rin's room. Before he reached the door he was noticed the boxes sitting idly in the hall, and he smiled, knowing they were most likely his and Rin's uniforms.
Upon closer inspection he saw only his name on both boxes, then inwardly frowned. If Rin's things weren't here that meant either one, his stuff hadn't arrived like it was supposed to (highly unlikely considering Mephisto's obsession with punctuality), or two, Rin had already woken up and gotten his things (which was more likely).
Leaving his things in the hall Bon slipped his hand into his back pocket and withdrew his key card from his wallet. The card hesitated above the slot, Bon wondering if this was such a good idea. What would he be walking into? An enraged Rin, a sad Rin, happy Rin? It was like a game of Russian roulette he wanted nothing to do with. Still, he couldn't just stand around and do nothing.
Gathering is courage he shoved the card into the lock and turned the nob down, swinging the door open quickly as if doing it any slower would cause him to chicken out.
"Rin?" the room was as silent as a cold winter night.
Rin's bed had the covers thrown to the side, evidence that he had indeed been awake. Bon's suspicions were further confirmed when he saw an empty box on the floor and Rin's street clothes piled next to it.
"Crap…"Bon took a defeated seat on Rin's bed, his elbows resting on his knees, his hands cradling his face. Bon didn't need anyone to tell him he'd made another huge mistake, it was obvious as the sky was blue.
A rustle alerted him to the opposite bed. Cautiously Bon kneeled down and lay flat on his stomach, peering under the mattress. There, packed tightly under the bed, was Kuro, yellow eyes narrow with disdain.
"Kuro?"
A wicked hiss was his response, Kuro's fur standing on end. Dare he try to reach under and attempt to speak reason with the sidhe? Nope. Only an idiot would tempt a familiar.
Sighing Bon heaved himself from the floor, scratching the back of his head with unease. He had to admit, this was a first. He'd never pissed someone off so bad that their own familiar didn't even like him.
Knowing there was nothing left to do Bon picked up his gym back and packed the things back inside. Although Mephisto hadn't specifically said he was expecting the lone items back Bon wouldn't take the chance. It didn't do well to owe a demon favors.
On his way out of the room he crouched to pick up the smaller box that Rin had left in the hallway. As expected it was light and easy to carry, but when he attempted to lift the large rectangular box with his other hand he was met with resistance.
"What the hell?" he grumbled, nudging the box with his foot to get a better idea of its weight. He was surprised then it inched across the floor, stubbornly digging into the carpet. Whatever. He'd come back for it after he dropped his other things off.
With a heavy mind he made the short trudge back to his shared room. Feeling much like the day he'd failed it exorcist's exam he knocked on the door to the hotel room. Shima opened the door and stood aside as Bon brushed by him, carelessly dropping his things on the floor.
Shima's eyebrows rose, one expertly lifting higher than the other. An untidy Bon; that was a sight to see. He glanced over at Shima inquisitively, the younger exorcist giving a shrug with his hands up, as if to say "I don't know."
The two sat in silence, Shima taking a seat next to Konekomaru on the bed. After a moment Konekomaru looked over at his pink-haired friend and silently mouthed the word "Rin."
Shima's eyebrows shrank down, losing their surprised expression, replaced with confusion. His eyes squinted and he shook his head no, indicating he didn't understand the other.
Konekomaru glanced over at Bon who was looking out the window, his bare back to them. When he was sure Bon wouldn't look back he slowly and silently repeated Rin's name, looking like he was speaking to a deaf person.
Understanding dawned on Shima's face, and he lifted his hand to grip his chin, as if contemplating the world. Could it be? Was Bon's secret crush really their satanic friend? It was pretty far-fetched, with how much Bon hated Satan, wanted to kill him, and generally disliked demons…along with another extensive lists of reasons. Upon reflecting more recent events he couldn't refute it. Konekomaru (to no one's surprise) was right.
It was blaringly and undeniably obvious, so when Konekomaru finally asked to confirm his suspicions Bon growled and turned around, aggressively facing his friends out of embarrassment. Say what you will, but Bon was no liar. Eyebrows scrunched and jaw locked Bon had admitted his growing feelings toward Rin, challenging either of them to say something snide.
Sensibly they had said nothing, instead asking what happened. The story was short and to the point, and Shima wasted no time in telling Bon he was an idiot, which was truly belittling coming from someone who was smacked by the opposite gender on a daily basis.
"I didn't think he'd be this upset." Bon confessed, turning back to the window with his arms crossed.
"Rin can be a hothead sometimes…." Konekomaru said, not sure how to comfort Bon. It could be difficult to comfort someone who was in the wrong, and even more difficult when that person knew as much.
Shima smirked, giving Bon an accusing glace, although he couldn't see. "Not unlike someone else we know."
Bon gave a dismissive snort. "Whatever." He turned to look at Konekomaru who was often the more help of the two. "What'd I do?"
Konekomaru scratched the back of his bald head, looking down at the blankets he was sitting on. "I guess just give him some time. Rin can be pretty temperamental, but once he settles down you can talk to him."
"That's our Niko, always coming up with a plan." Shima said, standing up from the bed and clapping his friend on the shoulder.
Konekomaru raised his finger, offering a correction. "Actually, that's Bon."
"Well, yeah. But when he isn't giving ideas your next in line." Shima explained.
"And if I don't have any ideas?" Konekomaru challenged.
Shima frowned. "Then we're all fucked."
Konekomaru rolled his eyes and Bon cracked his first smile of the morning. "You're so dumb sometimes, Shima." Bon said, going over to the box he'd dropped on the carpet.
"What'd you get for your uniform?" Shima asked, peeking into the box with Bon who shoved him out of the way, telling him to not be so nosey.
"A set of priest robes. " Bon explained, pulling the clothing out of the box. A pair of Shingon juzu beads toppled onto the bed, and Shima quickly picked them up.
"Woa! Onyx and Howlite, nice!" he said, referring to the 108 beads that made up the rosary. Over all it was a simple design, a string of black beads that were occasionally separated by a white one. At each opposite end was a larger white bead that had two strings hanging from them, and at the end of the string were two white cotton balls, designed from woven string, counting four in all.
"How come you didn't go with Nichiren beads?" Konekomaru asked, taking the beads from Shima to look them over.
"I won't use them for daily practice." Bon explained, looking at the material of his clothes. Just as he'd written the robes had been made, right down to the stitching on his jacket robe.
"Well, I guess we should get ready." Shima admitted, going over to the closet to take his own exorcist jacket and jeans out. "Another day in paradise" he bitterly thought.
Konekomaru burst into action, dropping Bon's beads onto the blankets and jumping from the bed to the floor, making a dash for the bathroom. "Dibbs!" he called, slamming the door locked just as Shima charged and pounded on the wood.
"Damn it, Niko!" he growled, jiggling the door handle furiously. This was the third day in a row he'd gotten to the shower first. "Sometimes I miss the dorm showers." He sighed, admitting defeat. At least that meant he got to shower first when they came back in.
"Psh, not me." Bon said, sliding into his robe jacket.
There were two layers of jacket, the first wrapped around his chest, the cut higher on his neckline. The second jacket, still the same color of black, had the True Cross emblem sewn into it, right at the heart. Much like the first this jacket wrapped around his body, but the neck line was cut lower, effectively layering his body in a neat, clean cut, fashion.
He took his sweatpants off and replaced them with his black jeans, opting out of the full length robe that would restrict his running. Instead his jacket robe flowed down just above his knees, but it didn't matter when he threw his priest's robe over his head.
Unlike the traditional style that would have to be wrapped around his body, Bon had instructed for his robe to be one piece, which made it safer to fight in and easier to put on. The robe was separated at his ribs, the front and back held together by a black belt that he buckled around his waist.
His left collarbone was covered by a thick strip of the golden colored fabric, and the robe came down to his ankles, tapering off in a triangular shape to avoid stepping or tripping on it.
Over all it had come together nicely, the contrast of black and gold was eye catching but not obnoxious, which worked when he would take over his duties at his temple. Priest robes were designed to be colorful, but the layers upon layers were too much for Bon, and like hell if he was going to walk around like a rainbow. His sect would just have to deal with it.
"Nice." Konekomaru admired, stepping out of the shower, towel wrapped around his neck now dressed in a pair of black jeans and a typical exorcist jacket. He watched Bon lace up his black boots, tying them tight to avoid potential problems in combat.
"Thanks." Bon said, picking his beads up from the bed and wrapping them around his hand. A nagging feeling at the back of his mind caused him to frown, noticing something was missing.
"Where is my pistol?" he wondered aloud, looking into the box to see if he'd overlooked anything. The box was empty, without a stray bullet in sight. It was then he remembered the long box that was still outside of Rin's room.
"Hey, will one of you help me move something?" He asked, Shima volunteering as he was done getting dressed, his shoes already on.
The two walked into the hallway and stopped in front of the parcel. Together they lifted the box, carrying it back to their own room and dropping it on the floor. While it wasn't terribly heavy it did leave Bon wondering what was inside, so he didn't blame both Shima and Konekomaru when they crowded him as he knelt down to open the box.
Without a knife of a pair of scissors he used his nail to pierce the tap, then yanked it off. Stubbornly the tape clung to his hand, which he vigorously flicked back and forth in attempt to remove.
"Someone get this." he grumbled, then thanked Konekomaru when he took the tape off Bon's hand and rolled it into a harmless ball.
When he flipped one side of the lid over his jaw swung open.
The three stood, bent over, peering into the box. Just to be sure Shima opened the other end, fully revealing the item.
"A bazooka?" he asked, clearly shocked at the large weapon that was delicately packed for delivery.
Indeed, it was a bazooka. It was about four three in length and the circumference of Bon's head, which unnerved him to say the least. The weapon had been polished, the silver metal gleaming in the hotel room light, complimented by the white shoulder rest that was attached near the middle of the gun.
"What the fuck!?" Bon snatched a piece of paper from the box, appalled when he saw Mephisto's hand writing.
"Dear Suguro Ryuji,
I regret to inform you the model of pistol requested is currently in short supply. Please accept this as my heart felt apologies. We will have your desired weapon delivered as soon as possible.
Signed,
*~*Mephisto Pheles*~*
Head of Japan branch True Cross Order
Principal and founder of True Cross Academy"
"That prick!" he yelled, crumpling the paper up in his first. What the fuck was he supposed to do with a fucking bazooka?!
"It is kinda cool." Shima said, picking up a spare warhead and examining it.
"It's scary." Konekomaru countered, standing away from Shima when he picked up the ammo.
"No, it's bulky, heavy, and it's bullshit." Bon snapped, picking the rocket launcher up with effort and perching it onto his shoulder. It was the strangest feeling ever, like he had an extra limb growing from his shoulder; a large heavy limb at that.
He turned, Shima ducking to avoid being hit, giving his friends a look of complete dismay. "What am I supposed to do with this thing?"
Konekomaru gave him hopeless expression, wordlessly moving his hands in front of him as he attempted to think of what to say.
"Blow some shit up!" Shima said, both his friends looking at him silently. "What? Do you know the damage that thing can do?"
They all starred at each other for a moment, when Bon finally sighed. "Whatever, it's better than nothing"
He set the bazooka back down on the bed and packed the ammo he'd been given into a metal box, which had a strap he could use to carry it. He attached a strap to his bazooka and slung it over one shoulder, carrying the ammo box with the other. It was heavy and cumbersome, but if all else failed he could resort to chanting.
They waited for Shima to screw together his staff before heading down to the conference hall, Bon doing his best to not look embarrassed as another exorcist stepped into the elevator, eyeing his weapon.
"Nice Bazooka." He said.
"Thanks…"