"You are an idiot." Mammon loomed by dint of floating at just-above-eye-level.
"You did not sell your soul." The Mist Officer clarified, "What you did was worse."
"Oh?"
"Just selling your soul, if that thing exists, would just be a short hurt and a long-term new status quo for you. What you did was accept a wager."
I fiddled with the ring, letting it roll in my palms. "A wager?"
"It'll tempt you. It'll whisper all the time and seem more than reasonable when you need it. It'll use a thousand small inconveniences to wear at your judgment. And it will constantly skim away your Flames. You lose the moment you succumb to it. You haven't lost if the game is still going. The closest you will come to winning would be if you die before you bow to it. But death to escape its power is surrender as well."
My Rain was untouched, but it was true that my Mist was being siphoned out. "This one can hardly find trouble in the thieving of this one's power." I said honestly, "When it softens that side of this one and is far slower than this one can regenerate such power."
"You fool." Mammon whispered, "Once you put on a Hell Ring, it only comes off the other end. You've doomed yourself to a lifetime of give and take, of careful watchfulness as you bite down any hint of excess emotion, while that ball and chain on your hand pokes and prods at you to stoke your Flames high, draining, and draining, and draining. All you gain in return is a nebulous hand on the scales of probability, and access to greater power when circumstances are truly dire. You will have to watch yourself every moment lest you turn into a monster."
"These things are unwelcome." I concurred. "Yet this one believes this one capable of enduring."
Shinobi. The one who endures. A new layer to that term.
"Did you listen?" Mammon snarled, crossing and uncrossing tense arms, "These consequences are not only for you! You'll be the customer of one of the worst insurances in existence and that will spill over! It will affect everything, including relationships with others, from the Young Lion to Bel. If you succumb to the Hell Ring, then you will need to be put down, and do you know how difficult that is? Or how that would affect your motley collection of acquaintances?"
Oh. I looked up, "This one understands."
Mammon had turned away, and I could just about read through the cloak and hood the desire to hunch and curl into a ball in their body language. "For some utterly Geld-forsaken reason, I care. If you need help, come to me. I will charge three-quarters my usual rates."
An Arcobaleno's curse was similar, yet both crueler and kinder. There were outer signs. There was the absolute violation of being forced into a different, hobbled, degrading shape. There was no fighting, no terrible bait of hope. No fear of failure, when one was steeped in bitter, breaking despair, and was already bearing the consequences. No need to claw for ground against the Adversary, with all one loved the collateral, for one's enemies were mortal. All the crueler for it. Mammon was willing to brave that pain to succor me.
I bowed, "Mist Officer."
"Rain-in-Residence." Mammon replied stiffly, determinedly not looking back while leaving.
I needed to test Mammon's warning. Hell Rings only came off the other end, he had told me, but I took the ring off and set it aside with relief-shock-tried to. It stuck to my left index finger and refused to come off. I tugged with my other hand. The Ring went with it with perfect ease. Then it stubbornly stayed cemented to my skin.
Oh well, be that way.
I kept the hem of my sleeve between my fingers and the metal, and gave it a hard yank. Ow. Skin and flesh deformed under the force, but the Ring stubbornly remained attached.
Well, now. Juubi, Kaguya, and Zetsu, this situation was becoming rather complicated. I would rather not have to self-mutilate.
I didn't remember having that excessive a reaction to being bound. Heart of a Cloud indeed. But panic would not serve me now, so panic I would not. I replaced the Ring on its proper place upon my right pinkie. The physical presence was easier to panic over. However, it was not important. Handseals had no function beyond psychosomatic here. So, a finger could be lost with little consequence. It might even be reattachable. Oh well, dealing with a curse that had the decency to admit what it was seemed quite more pleasant than beating back the pressure of fate with no more than mortal will and mortal fury. No proselytizing greater-than-thou beings either. The simile of the insurance company: one paid premiums, and when more than one had at hand was needed and circumstance were met, one would be given aid. Of course, as with all such entities, they earned more than they gave. But it was the promise of certainty, and I could accept that.
The other warning. A monster: rage, or its opposite, apathy. The Wrath of the King and the Sloth of the Prince. Rage, in reaction to the constant irritations. Apathy, as was born from an attempt to shield oneself from rage. I was both well and ill-suited to bearing a Ring that affected the wielder so. I was a kunoichi, taught to bend and bow and smile, endure trials of the heart and adversity that chafed the spirit. I was shaped to last and have no temper even when every little thing in the world frayed my nerves. But I knew how to see pieces and boards and games in a world of living, breathing, feeling individuals. In my last life between the Kage and another better that it was the more expendable that risked needing to be disposed of and so it was I who had become cold.
Self-awareness was the solution, or at least the better part of it. But I was, ultimately, a subjective observer. Therefore, I had to rely on others.
I began writing. A report, for shishou and my fellow apprentices. A letter, to my prince.
Iemitsu knew he was an impulsive man. Don't glare! He could be! Besides, people'd think he was creepy instead of lucky if they didn't think he was impulsive! He was winged everything because his hunches were always right! Look at his Terrifying Trio and his Awesome not-Arcobaleno! They were all here, in the CEDEF, because he followed his instincts!
Lal was really very down when he first met her, so he tried to be sunny and cheer her up, and just annoying enough that she'd have something to pummel without regrets—it worked out super well, with Lal getting better and his combat skills improving as well—win-win! Then he thought: Lal might need someone to teach, and be friends with, and be scary with, so he went looking. He knew that the Arcobaleno were cursed adults in the shapes of babies, and that their pacifiers drained away the flames. However, what no one else noticed, was that they were all Pure Flames. So, he got the funny feeling that maybe Impure Flames would be a better choice, plus Lal's Flames were Impure too, so… something?
Then he was going back to Japan even if he didn't exactly have good memories of the place, went fishing, bought a coffee, and found the most beautiful woman in the world—!*`'*Nana*`'*! She was perfect, he fell in love, did his best and she then loved him too! They became literal Soulmates! And even if Nana was too Electric to be treated well by the Mafia, she was still brilliant, and perfect, and beautiful, and his One True Love!
He took the Electric Mist now under his Sky as a sign, and began making his own family—because that was what Flames were, weren't they? A way to make a family without all the icky messy stuff that was trying to do right with a baby. You picked up people who could look after themselves and stand up for themselves if you were bad. Also, Project: Find Lal a Friend.
He looked in Mafia Academy, and there was the veritable whirlwind that was Mar—Oregano. No calling Oregano by her old name unless he wanted to be under attack on all fronts and not even be able to turn on the lights when he wanted too! It was so unfair that Turmeric could. But Turmeric did get a whole lot of passes with Oregano. He even followed her into the CEDEF just because she decided she wanted him around! It wasn't a bad decision, since Lal got a Misty-Cloud under her wing and he got someone who appreciated beer instead of posh Italian wines. Even if Turmeric hated coffee, was raised in a weird house, and had a grandmother who had way too many bright red apples and gingerbread and a talking mirror.
His first two apprentices were totally the best, take that, Timmy & co! Oregano set him straight on whether it was acceptable to use rolled up newspapers—it wasn't, unless he wanted to be hit around the head with a rolled-up report in return. Turmeric was cool as well—he was perfect for bouncing ideas off of and the sauerkraut attack was absolute genius! He never knew he managed to snatch up one of the poison cookers of the generation (although Oma was a hint)!
Then there was the time when he didn't really listen to his instincts and that proved to him why his family needed to be composed of people who could defend themselves and not tiny children.
Then, when he walked into the library, he got Basil, his youngest and weirdest. He didn't really want Basil at first, because Basil was teeny and that meant he wasn't going to be good at dealing with the child-rearing part of the mentor-parent thing. But Basil wasn't bad! They fit right in and kept up and could stand up for themself well enough to tell him when he got child-rearing too wrong (he might practice enough for Tsuna in another year!).
He didn't plan on telling people that Basil was the Antichrist, but he really really wanted to, so he did! Basil was very Misty, so pretending to be the Antichrist was like casting a genjutsu over everybody so they believed it was true and made it true. Iemitsu could have chosen something else, but Antichrist just seemed to fit! No pesky weaknesses from the old stories, plus alot of cool powers (on second thought, the alien values Basil exhibited might have been exacerbated by the Antichrist thing). Not like fairies/sidhe, who would have been bound by geas and unable to lie and stuff. And unlike his attempt at calling Oregano Athena, Antichrist wasn't an actual name! So, Antichrist was the best, because that lie could became sort-of-truthful for Basil, while his youngest apprentice retained everything that kept him him, including free will, even if that meant Basil-kun choosing the Varia demon*wail*.
But Iemitsu was feeling a whole lot less confident at the moment. Basil-kun just sent a report about that nasty evil ring, and he felt that mayyybee he shouldn't have used Antichrist. Basil could fool Hyper Intuition, so maybe the evil accessory did too?
But that way lay madness. One of his cubs needed him at the moment. How long had it been since he took his pride out for ice cream? They could all take half a day of vacation!
I had grown used to street-side clothes once again during the war, given how many times stay-beneath-notice had been in my mission parameters. Sir hadn't, because he had a Reputation. So he was now trying to figure out what to wear, and for some inexplicable reason, he was taking his time like a civilian woman. It was also possible that he was doing so on purpose to leave me alone with Turmeric in the garage.
The most down-to-earth of our lot sighed at me. "I'm not angry at your decision, Basil, I'm just disappointed."
Deliberate tardiness it was.
"I distinctly remember Oregano telling you that Hell Rings always come at a cost, and that you were well aware of the dangers of sticking fingers into random pieces of metal. So why did you?"
"This one made a choice, in reaction to the circumstances." I clarified, and that should have been the end of it, shouldn't it? It was just a matter of managing the consequences.
"You made a sacrifice." He corrected, "You paid a price. Basil, you did something irreversible to take care of a threat that could have been neutralized if you had just called for help."
"It was the optimal solution!" I protested.
"In no sense of the word!" He disagreed vehemently, "A good solution with fewer drastic, long-term consequences would have been more than acceptable than this so-called-best, as you very well should have realized if you weren't emotionally compromised by the adrenaline."
Juubi, Tobi, Madara. Uchiha, Uzumaki, Senju, Kaguya. Kaguya. I was an absolute imbecile. I missed that. My body was a ridiculous, six-year-old body, and that meant I was impulsive, short-sighted, tunnel-visioned, and most certainly not always a reliable decision maker, even disregarding my rubbish ring. Tobirama biology. I forgot about the cost-benefit of trust and communication. In other words, I had been sliding towards becoming a brooding lone hero.
The horror.
"Is there any word, which this one, as a child, may use to express the depths of dismay now felt?" I asked, self-discipline lax enough to stare emptily into the distance.
"Well, given your age, I would think that a simple fecal invective would do." Turmeric replied dryly.
Oh well. "Coprolite."
With impeccable timing, sir bounced into the garage, greeted us boisterously, and unlocked the blending-in car.
"Okay! Oregano is going to meet us at the gelato stand in a moment, so we can go now!" He cheered, "Ice cream time!"
Ice cream makes everything better. I kicked my feet in my chair as I enjoyed the orangey concoction of flavors that was my sorbet, which Bel stole bites of in between devouring his own strawberry and cardamom gelato.
"The 666 is honest, but convoluted in exchange." I explained, keeping my heart light but my words truthful. Turmeric had engaged sir and Oregano in conversation, leaving us alone to talk.
Bel drew patterns with his pink ice-cream melt. "Peasants never name things properly. Probability manipulators should be called that. Biased probability manipulators should be labeled accordingly."
"Generally speaking, even the most biased of probability manipulators are not actively malicious." I helped myself from Bel's cup. "This one's is."
"Futility." Bel pronounced, shrugging with comforting confidence in me, "The Prince does not see why peasant's wares would bother inciting frustration in both possessor and item for no particular gain."
"Surely, my prince, thou say not that this one has weathered worse simply from existing along with this one's master!" I exclaimed, but now that I had verbalized the idea, it was making an inexplicable amount of sense. Fantastical, insensible sense, but sense nonetheless.
Bel grinned with effortless not-quite-arrogance, "Peasants are already mindless. Anything gotten of them would be even duller yet."
I felt my lips twitching upwards, mirroring his expression. Because Sawada Iemitsu was quite definitely the most obnoxiously irritating entity in existence, and no mere ring could hope to rival him. Hopeful mirth, bubbling up like sweet springwater, had me hugging Bel again as I laughed. "Thank you!" I all but sang, "This one needed such a reminder!"
That was when we were interrupted by a shadow looming over us.
"And now," Oregano said ominously, "We will discuss exactly what you were thinking when you managed to get me and Turmeric mixed up."
I blinked, "How so?"
"Turmeric's the one who is willing to be nice and cushion his words." Oregano said, light glinting dangerously off her glasses, "There's a reason we shift most of the things requiring the subtle social touch to his desk. I do not have and am not inclined to have Elena's brand of soft strength, and as to Ottava, I am as alike her as I will ever be. Which you knew." She looked at me disappointedly.
Giddy with relief, I pouted, "Twas worth a try."
She snorted, "You aren't getting out of an apology. Two favors, no questions asked."
"One favor, and I'll take the morning shift for a week." I bargained.
"Forfeit breakfast rights for that week too and it's a deal." With Lal added, there were five people who ate from our common room kitchen. We each chose what breakfast was for one day of the week (weekends had brunch). I loved baked beans and pickles. Oregano hated beans. Ergo, breakfast rights surrendered, no beans for another week and an extra day of bacon.
"Accepted."
"Poor destitute peasants." Bel interjected cheerfully, now resting his head on crossed arms, "Such conflicts could be easily solved should you come to the Prince's Court. We have a breakfast buffet!"
"No, Bel." I sighed, "Better to reign in heaven than serve in hell."
"I see that you have inherited my habit of mauling turns of phrase." And our resident angry ghost broke Omerta by appearing out of thin air. "Hello, small child that I am inexplicably but undeniably attached to, and you, another one of the terrifying women in my life. Congratulations on disappointing me again with your paper-thin manipulations which you didn't even bother to keep secret. What is that witch's brew there?"
Oregano's ice cream dwarfed everyone else's put together. Easily. It was a rainbow of flavors drenched in syrup and buried under toppings. And our melee fighter had already polished off one quarter.
"Gelato." Turmeric answered disapprovingly, "And while mangling phrases can be accepted, please don't misterm things, it leads to mix ups. Witches' brews are things my grandmother makes, gelato is just gelato."
"That is not gelato." Daemon groused, "Gelato, proper gelato is just not made anymore. In my day, you only used milk, sugar, and perhaps custard. What is this 'passionfruit'? It sounds like an aphrodisiac, yet for some God-forsaken reason, it is in common usage and accessible to children—not including the two compressed terrors at the table. Honestly, what has the world come to?"
"Nonsense, my man!" Sir tried to ruffle Daemon's hair, "It's a good time to live in, and a better time than it was! No moping! That'll just make you even grumpier, and we can't have that can we? Think positively!"
I noticed Oregano's expression. It was like the one Academy Teachers made when one of the first years produced a collection of messy kanji and called it fūinjutsu, "What was thine actual manipulation?"
She suppressed a snort and whispered back, "Drew a line between Elena's death and her being unable to defend herself due to societal expectations. He's now campaigning for gender equality in combat training and cultural reform instead of murder."
In which yes, Basil occasionally uses people in their world as swearwords instead of kami, god, fuck, etc. This is unique to Kiri.
And Oregano is effortlessly practical, as always.
Turmeric's grandmother is the archetypical old witch in the woods. Can't decide if she lives in a gingerbread house or a Baba Yaga chicken-footed one.
Lal is off training newbies to replenish CEDEF ranks. This is bonding time between the Lion's Pride.