"Riser Phenex is a prideful Devil," his Buchou drones on. "He is strong, that is true, but he is nowhere near his brothers' mastery of their trade or his little sister's magical potency. We can win this fight if we play our cards right."
The members of her peerage nod one after the other. They are torn between calculating how they could possibly win against a full-fledged peerage and trying their upmost to support their leader. It is not an easy feat; they sense hesitation in her bravado, uncertainty in their victory as she parrots all she knows about her fiancé and his power.
All Issei sees is her clouded expression.
He does not know which foot to stand on. He shifts, swaying on the ball of his feet. His muscles tense and relax as he moves. They knot and unknot themselves to a beat he makes up as he goes. His body hurts still from when the flaming bling-bling idiot showed up to remind his Buchou she is to be his wife.
The moment he appeared from that blasted hearth in a flourish of gold, Issei's flesh became a ravel of tensed muscles and hyperactive senses.
The prey sensed the predator.
He bounces between being annoyed at the overgrown hoot who flaunted his wings like they meant business and being bothered by his instinctive reaction to the older Devil. He is not scared. He isn't.
The dude just… startled him with his big ass wings and ridiculous rings. He looks like a pimp. A bad pimp. The kind who doesn't know condoms exist. A walking STD with a popped open shirt showing ridiculously defined abs and pecs.
(Issei is not scared. Issei is not jealous. Issei is firm in his heterosexuality.)
A sigh. A pause. An explosion.
Issei jumps out of his trance.
He blinks rapidly and focuses his gaze on whatever new mayhem happened in his clubroom. It's never too quiet there and for once, he misses the afternoons spent daydreaming about greatness with his old friends, lying in grass and taunting each other for all they're worth.
What he sees shocks him out of his improvised jaunty dance. His Buchou banged her delicate fist against her desk. Her knuckles are already reddening as she rests them against the cracked wood. It's an alien sight, seeing her hurt. It doesn't match what he knows of her. Buchou is a mysterious smiling goddess, a Buddha of forgiveness and second chances.
A flash of red and he sees her as she was when he coughed his last gasp out, a mane of crimson and pity descending on his pathetic human husk.
The vision is gone as swiftly as it came, with a blink.
"Are you ready to win?" Buchou asks. A cheeky smile adorns her bold question. A mischievous twinkle lights up her gaze.
Issei can't help but grin in response. There is something about her happiness that is simply contagious. It makes him dizzy, feverish, delirious.
He wants to grasp that light, that twinkle, that feeling, and ensnare it so that it never leaves him and her again. And it did, briefly, when effing Riser Phenex had the audacity to appear to remind his Buchou that she owes him a wedding night. Issei caught the way her eyes flickered, from light green to darkened, thoughtful emerald. The color does not suit his sweet Buchou in the slightest.
(He wants her to be happy, as happy as she makes him just by existing.)
Her peerage perks up, as one. Unified against adversity, always.
Kiba bows with a flourish, the smooth bastard. "Give the command and it shall be done, my lady."
Akeno clicks her tongue. "We simply cannot lose against such an… uncultured personage."
Issei stares at his team, at his peerage. Akeno's lightning, Pretty Boy's swords, Koneko's kicks… they're going to make short work of Riser Phenex. There is no way anyone could win against their resolve, all the efforts they put down to become better, all the efforts they're going to pour to be their very best self for the incoming fight.
He balls his fists. Riser, eh? With his golden feathers, huge wings and useless jewelry, he looks more like a peacock. Vain and arrogant. No… that's too nice. He is just a chicken. Loud and lustful, keeping a courtyard of women by his side when he should adore Rias only.
And Issei does love some fried chicken for supper.
He snickers quietly.
"Ise?" Buchou calls him quietly.
He answers with a wide smirk and the gusto his team desperately lacked before he crash landed into their world. "We will win, Buchou. He won't hold a candle against Koneko's kicks and my fists."
He shots an encouraging glance at Koneko. Perhaps she will add something wise and meaningful?
She glowers back at him silently. She won't grace him with an answer today, it seems. She's loyal to her silence and micro-expressions that tell nothing and everything.
Nonetheless, when their Master turns to her, she nods slowly, as if agreeing with his words.
Buchou chuckles softly. For the first time since the chicken disappeared in a fanfare of flames, her happiness does not sound forced.
It fuels his desire to please. No one has reprimanded him yet for his trashy comments, so he takes it as all the incentive he needs to go on and bully his favorite enemy. He wraps one arm around Kiba's shoulders.
"Worst comes worst, we will use Pretty Boy here as a bait. I'm sure that Fried Chicken swings that way." Issei hugs Kiba tightly, so the Knight cannot escape his embrace. Unfortunately, the brown-haired Devil also catches a swift of his cologne and damn does it smell good.
Kiba chuckles. He pinches Issei's hand and slowly pushes it away from his shoulders. Exactly like someone would drag a stinky bag full of garbage to the landfill. "It seems our new member needs some more training," he hisses.
"We will remember your sacrifice," Issei shots back.
He sees his Buchou's amused beam out of the corner of his eye.
Warmth spreads throughout his chest. He basks in the feeling, contented. In the back of his mind, in the pit of his heart, he makes a solemn vow. He will not let darkness win over her luminescent eyes.
A limb brushes his hand.
Hayashi Issei jolts. Awake.
He blinks the dregs of his vision away. Red flashes, replaced by gold.
His mother glances at him inquisitively. Her knuckles graze his, a call for his attention. He presses back, trying to reassure her that he is here. That everything is alright.
(Nothing is alright. His brain takes him on hallucination trips at exactly the worst moment possible. He is trying to reassure himself more than anyone else by touching his mother and assessing that he is in the real world. His real life is starting to feel like a long, long, long dream. Fueled by drugs and goddesses in need of flowers.)
Issei shakes the intrusive thoughts out. He tilts his head towards the man who lounges on the other side of their suddenly too small dinner table.
Riser Phenex offers a beguiling smile to the Hyoudou-Hayashi household.
His wings are nowhere in sight. He looks strangely mundane without his gilded feathers. He still, however, easily succeeds to generate an air of tranquility, of belonging, of ownership. He seats on a creaky chair like it has always meant to be his. His legs are sprawled under their table, his tibias yielding heat a movement away from Issei's own legs. The teacup he idly sips from and a platter of ginger cookies he definitely munched on complete the strange picture he paints.
The Devil doesn't look out of place in Chiasa's kitchen. Just an old friend passing by to exchange news and steal food whilst he is at it.
Except he is certainly not their friend.
Issei's left hand, which he kept frozen on his thigh, quivers. He stowed it there, hidden, and he is intent on keeping it that way. The bandage that covers half his digits feels too flimsy a protection against the senses of a Devil.
Can he feel Ddraig? Would he understand if he saw my finger? Issei does not want to play with fire. The hair on his nape stands at the idea of what Riser would say if he saw Issei's not so human nor devilish finger. He doesn't want to know what the answers to his anxious questions would be.
"I am most glad to see you in good health," Riser croons. He stares at Issei like a dying fire would look at dry wood.
"Likewise, young Master," Issei grinds out.
(Lies. He shouldn't lie to a Devil.)
The teen hides a grimace behind his cup of tea, composure obliterated. His stomach churns. His entrails tangle into knots unknown to Men. The sheer implications of the Devil's presence in his home terrorizes his organs into overdrive.
Riser croons pleasantries at his mother. She smiles politely and nods tactfully.
Issei blinks. Black dots swirl and swim in his vision. Another blink. Sunlight loses its brilliance. Another flutter of his eyelashes and he lets go, his muscles relaxing into a puddle. He is nowhere and everywhere. He is at the dinner table, nodding there and here. He is over the table, floating in space and time.
Time slows down until he can see every little expression Riser expertly produces. He looks charming. He looks harmless. He is dangerous.
[Boy,] a voice calls.
Issei shivers, both as a void and as a body. The void reluctantly constricts itself back to Issei's flesh and bones.
His ears perk up. The tinkle of a spoon whirling in a cup. The tap of a finger against the rim of a drink. A sigh. A low chuckle. The anxious creaks of a bow. The grave voice of a disembodied Dragon, calling for his attention. The sounds are all Issei can concentrate on. The rest is muted, faded, forgotten.
His fingers tingle back to life a sigh later. He toys with his cup mindlessly, thumb running along the rim. His fingernails are looking mightily tasty. When was the last time he chawed on them till all he could taste was blood? His memories are vague, distant. His teeth are itching to show the world what kind of damage they can inflict. His left pinkie burns, his hand sweats profusely into the fabric of his pants. His fingers curls and fiddle with the bandage covering his secret thoughtlessly.
A wrinkled hand, marred with sunspots, snakes its way to his bandaged limb. It smooths his fingers down on his leg, offers a pat there and here, tucks bandage here and there, then retreats to its owner.
His grandmother sends him a knowing glance. Issei nods, guilty.
[This is not the time for such conduct,] Ddraig rumbles.
Issei can only agree.
He blinks and time ticks faster.
And, of course, the blond Devil now eyes him with a flicker of interest. Interest is bad. Interest is dangerous. But, well, the whole situation is a ticking bomb, whatever amiability the Devil so easily projects.
Calm down, Issei. Focus. Look at that dumbass' bling bling.
He breathes through his teeth and does as his mother has instructed him, focusing on reality. Focusing on things he can touch, can comprehend. Things who wish no harm to him. Things that are simply… objects in three dimensions.
And look he does. Some things never change with Riser Phenex. The young third master of the Phenex still wears an atrocious amount of gold and jewelry. Spices Issei cannot name still linger on his tongue, emanating in waves from the Devil as he inadvertently heats up his surroundings.
The teen frowns. His mother might not handle the difference in temperature well. He briefly wonders if he can ask the Devil to turn his inner heater off, then discards the idea.
He is going to leave soon, anyway. Hopefully.
A snarky thought intrudes his optimistic monologue then, murmuring that Riser Phenex is most likely to button his shirt up than to leave without making a ruckus. And the Devil does adore to showcase his defined pecs and bronze skin.
Issei stares at the open shirt who leaves nothing to the imagination. Some people would kill to look that good.
Blonde lashes flutter. Blue eyes look down at brown irises, their corners quirking into a mischievous smirk.
Issei looks down. A blush creeps on his cheeks. Alright, he is a voyeur now. Is the other Issei infecting him with his obsession with boobs?
He grabs his cup. He gulps tea.
Regrets come, immediately. His tea is stinging-hot. Of course.
"Your tea is delicious," the Devil starts. There is a tease in his words, because of course he watched avidly as Issei choked on his drink. "May I know its name?"
His grandmother clears her throat. She still wheezes softly from her mad dash, running after a wayward grandson. A paper fan that has seen better days flaps slowly, warm air hitting her and Issei to the beat of her wrist. Issei feels her shift on her seat. She tilts closer to his side, his very own wall of wrinkles and courage.
"It has none. My neighbor grows tea trees as a hobby. He gives me a few pounds of his harvest in exchange for some of my own produce." The fan she used to cool down flicks to a close. "It is not for sale."
Issei stashes the fact that there's a food mafia in his neighborhood in a compartment of his brain.
Riser's smarmy grin cracks into something more genuine. It does nothing to make him look less ominous. "Then let me offer my thanks for your generosity. It is kind to offer a rare thing to a stranger."
The golden Devil cups his hands together in appreciation. It is a practiced gesture, honed by years and hours of lesson in etiquette. There, the young Phenex's too blue eyes seek Issei's gaze. Knowingly, connivingly.
It reminds Issei of things best left to rot in the corner of a tightly shut box.
(They share a secret, a memory, an instant of eternity Issei will not, cannot forget. It led to his mother's survival, after all.)
His right arm twinges, reminding him that his quest did not bring only the tears of a Phoenix.
Chiasa huffs. She waves her hand dismissively. "No need to be so courteous. You are our guest."
Riser chuckles. "Your grandson inherited your candor," he comments. "A good quality indeed."
Chiasa flicks her fan open. It hides a part of her face, leaving only amber eyes and silver hair out in the open. "My grandson inherited many things from me."
It's ridiculous and exactly the type of things people who are mysteriously powerful would say in shonen animes. Issei applauds his grandmother's wits and sheer diva vibes loudly. In his mind.
"I believe you," Riser chuckles. He tilts his head towards Issei's right. "And what would you say he inherited from you, Madam?"
Issei tenses up. His grandmother can make fun of the Devil all she wants, but he doesn't want him anywhere near his mother. His prodding, it feels… sinful. Somehow.
Hikari hums noncommittally. She tilts her head. His grandmother shuffles on her seat, fan still moving like a pendulum. Suddenly, Issei feels the time has come to attack.
Or else his family might just make grilled chicken of the golden Phenex.
"What brings you to my home, Riser Phenex?" the teen asks hotly.
The Devil blinks slowly, as if he calculated when he needed to bat his eyelashes. A shadow appears under his eyes, showing green veins under skin that is a tone too pale. It disappears a moment later, as he rubs the spot between his delicate brows.
He then shifts, settling against the board of his chair. He hugs his chair with one arm while his other hand lays flat on their kitchen table. His rings rattle against the wood, gems grazing the varnish without remorse.
"I presented my family with your gift. My people have greatly rejoiced." Riser's voice rumbles, a vibration that originates from his scandalously uncovered chest and travels all the ways to Issei's quivering eardrums.
A mocking, malicious voice remarks that for such a happy news, the Devil looks rather downcast. Issei feels it has everything to do with Riser and nothing to do with him, thanks and goodbye.
"I see you also used my gift," Riser tilts his golden head towards Hikari gently.
Issei tenses. Of course, the damn Phenex would somehow feel on whom his tears were used.
The older humanoid's face takes on a gentler, almost tender expression. His lush eyelashes quiver. "I understand your urgency better, now. A beloved soul was at stake."
The words prickle the teen's skin. Truth stings and urgency swells in his chest. Issei doesn't want to be reminded that all he fought for is at the arm's length of a Devil with a flaming temperament. He doesn't want to hear him speak as if he could understand Issei's struggles. As if he understood anything about family and what it entails, the love and the despair alike.
"I know my son bartered with you for your tears," Hikari fires. Her brows meet gravely over her squinted eyes, as if she tried enough, she could see the content of Riser's soul and judge his thoughts.
Considering Persephone's gift, she might just be able to see things Issei cannot. Nonetheless, he copies her grave countenance, hoping to look as ominous as he feels the situation is. Why is Riser Phenex at his dinner table, in his kitchen, enjoying tea.
How did he find them?
Bile rises to the back of his throat. Issei forces it down with a clench of his throat.
Riser claps his hands together. His rings rattle against each other. "May I ask what ailment my tears healed?"
Issei bristles. That's personal. Too personal. "You may not-"
"Gliobastoma," Hikari fires. "It made both my life and my brain a daub."
Issei goes speechless in front of such frankness.
[Close your mouth, dimwit. You're not a fly trap.]
The boy clamps his mouth shut.
Riser, apparently not as uncomfortable with the misery of humans, nods slowly. "I know of the illnesses of men, although not as well as a descendant of the Phoenix should. My generation has abandoned the art of healing and its refinements for more… offensive acts."
"So I have been told," Hikari quips back.
Riser's grin flickers in and out of existence. He appears unbothered by Hikari's pointed scowl and spiked comments, unfaltering in an unknown territory.
"It is only right to use a phoenix's tears to heal the ailing," Riser comments. He doesn't seem to be addressing someone in particular. Instead, he seems to be reciting the words of others. "A Phenex's tears, once shed, must be used. The world does not need useless things," he mutters. A crook appears on the edge of his pleasant smile as he utters the word 'useless'. Neither a dimple nor a crack, it gives him a strangely worn air.
It rubs Issei the wrong way. Riser Phenex shouldn't look like a damn robot. He is a magnificent bastard. He annoys everyone on his path willingly, knowingly, shamelessly.
Instead, his Devil is frowning at his joined hands, at his shining rings adorned with sparkling gems and delicate patterns. His eyes are fixated on an invisible point, pupils reaching the rim of his blue irises, unmoving in a sea of red veins and yellowish sclera. He looks worn out in ways a Devil shouldn't be capable of being. Where did his otherworldly beauty and radiance disappear to?
Issei's throat is strangled by an emotion he cannot bear to name. Compassion? Pity? His fear, his anxiety, and everything else he feels mingle into a knot he can't untangle.
Blue eyes twinkling dimly stare at the Hayashi-Hyoudou family with something akin to hope. "Would you allow me a talk with your son, Madam?"
Issei immediately feels a weight lift from his shoulders. He breathes more freely. Ah. It was a ploy to play with his emotions. Okay. The bastard is back.
Hikari eyes the I'm-sad-please-be-nice Devil silently. The way her lips quirk in a not-quite smile spells troubles. "He is right in front of you."
(The audacity. Issei wants classes with his mom to learn how to be that confident.)
Riser pauses. "A one-on-one talk."
Hikari flickers her gaze at Issei. He blinks, thinks about the fact that he might die, that they all might die, and nods. His pinkie, the one he offered to Ddraig, tingles.
"Why don't you two go for a walk in the valley of sen yamabiko." Hikari's eyes light up with a spark of gold. Intelligence resides there, mischief dances there, danger twinkles there. "The flora that resides at the heart of the gorge is a spectacle to behold."
Issei thinks about a hidden goddess, nestled in an alcove of their valley. He also thinks his mother is a genius. Damn, his father's genes really suck.
"It's a hidden treasure," Issei comments. He doesn't need to ogle the Devil to see how much he likes gold and its earthly brethren. Lure him out with a glittering carrot and beat him up with a flower holding a baton if needs be.
Chiasa puts down her cup with a bit more force than is necessary. It sounds fierce. It sounds like the chime of death. She won't provoke Riser now, will she?
"I think you forgot something," she grumbles.
"Pardon?" Riser tentatively offers.
Chiasa squints. Her braid moves with an offended huff. "I need assurance that my grandson will come back alive and in one piece."
Riser looks… discombobulated. He squints, then offers a somewhat hesitant nod. "I, Riser Phenex, swear on my name that Hayashi Issei will not face grave dangers while he accompanies me in the valley of sen yamabiko."
Hikari and Chiasa glance at their boy unison. Issei nods discreetly in their direction. Worse comes to worst, he will kick him into Persephone's abode and she will do her thing. Maim him, hopefully. Or just annoy him so much by comparing him to flowers that he will disintegrate.
They walk side by side, maintaining a slow pace and a neutral tone. The air is crisp with untold things. Issei keeps his left hand tucked away in a pocket, out of view and out of mind. Riser's jewelry tinkles and chimes with each of his steps. His arm brushes the younger teen's shoulder every so often, reminding him that the Devil is far taller than he is.
Tension mounts, thrumming from his drumming heart to his numb fingertips.
"Your mother and grandmother do not trust my word," Riser fires offhandedly.
"They were not initiated to Devils' customs," Issei shots back.
The young Master of the Phenex twists his expression, torn between contempt and incredulity. "Our oaths are famous all over the Nine Realms. Once uttered, they cannot be broken lest we forsake Magick and her gifts."
With a twist of the little beaten path they tread on, the human teen has a chance to glance back naturally. Indeed, his family is on their doorsteps, observing their slow descent into the valley. His grandmother taps her fan against her palm slowly, ominously. His mother waves at him gently. Her wrist is angled strangely, making it look as if she were batting at the ground.
(Oh, but he knows a little special someone who stays at ground level. It likes to sneeze at his face and nibbles Persephone's flowers.)
The prophecy of his thoughts comes true a moment later. He catches a glimpse of white fur bouncing from bushes to rocks. Long ears flap as his bunny hops into the valley ahead of him.
Issei grins. Thanks mom.
Persephone will be notified they have a guest. A guest who could potentially start a wildfire. Their resident goddess has a love and hate relationship with them. Wildfires permit the birth of new trees, new plants, new everything. But they also put an end to years of beloved growth and sameness.
The Spring goddess is bound to prefer Riser gone sooner than later from her small kingdom.
The teen and the adult step down into the valley. The plateau his house stands on becomes a hill they cannot see the top of.
Riser pauses.
Issei stalls a step ahead.
The Devil's golden mane is a blaze of unnatural colors in their little green world. It sways, not with the wind, but with each of Riser's breath. It fervently shines in the dying light of the sun. He provokes another twist of his hair with a tilt of his head that could look polite in any other context. Here, it is just another ploy, another scheme to get his way.
"Nonetheless, I was most glad to make your family's acquaintance."
Issei offers a semblance of a smile. It's wry at best. Pleasantries are used with acquaintances, people he can tolerate stealing his cookies and drinking his grandmother's finest tea. Riser Phenex, for all the help he unwillingly gave in his quest, is not on his small list.
Heck, Persephone is not on the list.
(She would totally grow a humongous flower and make it crawl its way through the foundations of their house just to partake in teatime vicariously. And then have the audacity to diss his mother's cookies or the fact that he definitely did not inherit the good genes in the family. Something to do with the way he pets flowers, if he is to believe her mad ramblings about flora.)
A wishful, wishful part of him hopes Riser simply noticed his last comment was rude and wished to correct his discourtesy.
(Perhaps. Or perhaps he wants to remind Issei he knows where all that the teen cherishes is.)
"You have a fine family. Such treasures are hard to find and harder to keep," Riser adds pensively, enunciating each word slowly.
The teen's heart skips a beat. His breath is captured in his throat.
Neutrality is lost.
Hard to find and harder to keep.
The enormity of what Riser Phenex implies kindles a firestorm in Issei's soul.
Hard to find and harder to keep safe.
Issei quivers. He scowls at his opponent through his lashes. He shakes, but it is not fear who burns his entrails. Not anymore. The bile that rose in his throat is replaced by something cold, slick and dangerous. Acid is ready to spill from his mouth. Fury is ready to burst. Too long has he kept it under soot. Now, its embers have been rekindled anew. No one has the right to threaten his family.
No fucking one.
He eyes the sick bastard. He could kick him in the nuts. He could get a perfect shot from where he stands.
His bow croons a violent song. Yes, yes, an arrow, balled in his fist, delivered directly into the Devil's too blue eye. That would do it. Then dig, dig, dig and goodbye Devilman, goodbye forever.
Fuck consequences. Riser can be fertilizer for Persephone's garden.
[Not yet,] Ddraig warns. [You would lose the fight.]
Issei tenses. Damn it. Fucking damn it.
The fury subsides. He inhales deeply. Air burns its way to his constricted lungs. His right arm loosens up. He relaxes his balled fist. His left hand leaves his pocket and joins his right as he crosses his arms.
"Why are you here, Riser Phenex?" he exhales. He sounds like Ddraig, all growls and grumbles. He misses the bite to be truly terrifying and he knows it. They both know it.
Riser sighs contentedly. "Finally, you stop stalling."
The boy frowns, deepening wrinkles around his mouth and eyes. He looks a decade older than he is.
Riser sees the confusion rooted deep in his gaze. He clarifies his thought then with the same amused air that has not once left him. "I remember a boy who cut to the chase with no regards for etiquette nor customs. I'm glad to see him again."
"The sentiment is not mutual," Issei grumbles. A spark of anger still electrifies his mood beyond reason.
The humanoid lets a sparkle of devious enjoyment lights his face. His intricate garland tinkles. "I am aware. And to answer your question… I wanted to see you again," the Devil confesses.
Issei fights the urge to facepalm. Instead, he untangles his arms and opens them wide. "You have seen me."
Now leave, he implores.
Riser hums. His gaze bores a hole in human flesh, seeking the secrets tucked under tanned skin and worried lines. Whatever he finds there does not seem to satiate his fiery hunger.
Issei, like he once did so long ago, holds the Devil's gaze steadily. He isn't his subaltern. He is his equal. Riser stands in Issei's field and better understand in how much shit he might end up if he fucks around too much. Nevermind Issei doesn't have much protection nor real ways to kick the Devil out, the illusion that he does might protect them all nonetheless.
He is ready to channel his inner asshole. Worse come worst, he will channel Ddraig.
"I am a lost Devil in search of answers," Riser intones slowly. "And you, my young friend, hold what I seek."
Issei involuntarily cringes at the choice of words of his interlocutor. The last person who called him by such endearment was not an ally. Bashir was a lot of things, many shady, but he was not his friend.
"And how could my humble self enlighten you, young Master?" Issei half bows mockingly. Irony drips from his countenance. Truly, what could he offer to the rich, mighty Devil that he wouldn't be able to find elsewhere?
Riser does not offer a response. Instead, he slowly whirls, seemingly fascinated by the green canopy that hinders the last rays of the sun from reaching them.
For once, his lips contort into the smallest of frown. There is sadness in that instant, sadness and revolt as he faces the concealed sky. His eyes take on a lighter color. He glances down and observes Issei gravely, somberly. When the silence has stretched too thin over their halt, Riser offers a murmur. "I thought I would understand why Magick put you on my path if I saw you again."
He glimpses at the boy's covered hand. He blinks and gone are the flecks of gold and seriousness. His smirk comes back, devilish and ready to toy with Issei some more.
"Your Master must cherish you especially. This place is thick with protection magic," he remarks.
"I am favored," Issei tentatively admits. By a goddess.
The teen slides one foot backwards, towards the deep. Towards safety.
Riser ogles him from his dirty toes to the flayed tips of his hair. "I understand why one would want to protect such a precious asset."
He places one of his hands on a nearby tree. He drags his nails across its bark. He does not break eye contact with the teen as he does, nails scratching and revealing blackened wood where his hand passed.
"The protection spells seem to be linked to the trees. Truly a work of art. Sadly, trees tend to burn quite well." Riser abandons his amiable expression for a sneer.
The forest stills. Trees bend, closing in. Leaves stop their rustling. Animals silence their cries. Insects stop their buzzing. The wind itself stops roaming its home. The smell of smoke sluggishly goes up the hill, clogging the boy's nose as it leaves him.
Issei recoils.
"Do not threaten the valley," he snarls. The taste of fire is on his tongue.
"I promised no harm would come to you while you are accompanying me. I expect the same courtesy from you and…" Riser retorts. He surveys his surroundings. "Whoever is protecting this place."
Issei nods jauntily. "That is acceptable," he admits.
Riser claps his hands. His rings clink enthusiastically. "Perfect. Let us speak here, for I do not endeavor to meet the dangers your family has concocted for me in your valley's depth."
The Devil searches their surrounding. He sets his gaze on a stone rounded by rain and wind. A flick of his wrists later, its surface is somewhat clean. He bends down and elegantly sits. His ankle finds his knee and still he towers over Issei. Blue eyes glint golden.
Issei feels very, very small. He understands what peasants must have experienced when they were able to take a fearful peek at their shogun. It's a terrible, awful mix of awe, fear and incomprehension. How could this person be so far removed from me and still, be part of my kind?
(Riser, he realizes belatedly as the man shakes his golden mane, is not human. It does not soothe his mind.)
He hesitates between stepping closer and bouncing farther. Persephone is close, down into the deep. Riser is far closer, up on the hill.
The blonde Devil does not let him decide, in the end. He places a hand on his knee. The interrogation thus starts between the higher being and the lesser one. "You seemed to possess extensive knowledge of Glorygolds when we met. How come?"
Issei shakes his head. "Deduction more than anything else. My knowledge of plants is small compared to others. I know the basics."
Riser, by the way his eyebrows raise, does not believe him one bit. And yet he should know Issei is truthful.
"Remind me, where did you find the Glorygold?"
Issei tenses. He recalls the exact words he once uttered, rescued from the abyss of his mind. "I found them by the Wall, close to the blocked Gate of Rainbow. They were blooming there."
Riser tilts his head. Golden locks of hair fall on his face only to be pushed back by a force unseen. His azure gaze twinkles with something that can only be nefarious. "On which side of the Wall did you find… them?"
Issei wants to bite his tongue. He only gave one to Riser. He had only admitted to possessing one. Fuck.
"The right side," he smartly shots back.
Riser offers an amused smack of his tongue. His words are not amused in the slightest. "Did you enter the Forest, Hayashi Issei?"
Issei hesitates. His throat quivers a beat later, for he knows how much silence can tell.
[You're dancing to his tune,] Ddraig chimes in.
That interjection doesn't help to quell the anxious drum that replaced his heart.
"An answer for an answer," Issei blurts. "I, too, have questions for you, Young Master."
Riser waves a hand dismissively. "Ask away."
Issei is left to arrange through his overwhelming thoughts. His heart can't take aggression. His mind won't bear bad news. His fingers will not survive another round with his teeth. How did you find us? Why are you here? Why? Why? Why?
"Why does this old story interest you?" he settles on.
"Old?" Riser sways in his amusement. He looks like a snake sashaying its way to its prey. "No, no, our tale is not a legend yet. Furthermore, the story has to be complete before it can be savored in its entirety."
Issei frowns. Bastard. "One does not need a prequel to enjoy a tale."
"Yet it brings a fuller understanding of recent events. This little tale of ours…" Riser shrugs, but it's all sharp angles. The debonair aura he showcases loses its luster. Something softens his feature, something unhappy.
Vulnerability.
Issei shifts on his toes. He can't bear to stare at such an expression desecrating his Riser Phenex. Seeing the otherworldly beauty of the Devil so close, he wants to understand what mares it. Sadness? Regret? Jealousy? The teen doesn't understand the man and he needs, musts understand him to make his move and kick Riser out of his property and his mind forever.
The Phenex exhales. His silence is deafening. The world is too loud in contrast.
Issei leans forward, perking his ears.
The golden-haired, gold-adorned Devil taps his ankle. Once, twice, thrice. Unnaturally blue eyes flicker up. "Tell me, do you know of the happenings that followed your gracious gift?"
The human teen shakes his head. "No."
The Devil offers a distorted expression. He taps his ankle again, sharp, manicured nails clinking against a silver anklet. "I am the third son of the House of Phenex, yet it was I who delivered our glory back to our heart. For my people, the Glorygold is… priceless. Irreplaceable."
Issei thinks of a wiggling flower that dances in the stream of his valley. He remembers his warmth against his skin, the way it shined softly as it illuminated his mother's gaze. Irreplaceable indeed.
Riser squares his jaw.
Another tap. Rings clink. Necklaces tinkle. Gold glistens.
"I brought our glory back from the dead. In doing so, I aroused the interest and the distaste of many. Some have started to believe I would do a better heir than my eldest brother. This has caused much dissent in my people," he admits softly. Too softly.
Issei feels pity and guilt rise in his mind, like bile. He squashes it down. Not his business. Never his business. He has his own misery to deal with, he won't play hero for anyone but his family. "What you did, what happened after I gifted you the Glorygold is not my doing," he vehemently ripostes.
"Indeed. I cannot blame you for this," Riser murmurs.
He blinks and his gaze meets Issei's. The corners of his eyes quirk up. Veins turn dark around his irises. Golden flecks dance in his irises.
"Much like you cannot blame me for believing you and your Master are not innocent in this ploy." Riser offers a smile then, and it is terrifying.
Issei chokes. "Pardon?"
The smiling Supernatural being angles his body upright and puts his foot down on the ground. He towers on his throne of stone. "Why did you choose me?"
Trees shudder, the wind murmurs, Issei pauses. The question is so incongruous, it feels jarring. It brings back memories of an adventure that seems to have happened a thousand years ago. A lifetime away, when his mother was sick, and Issei was desperate enough to accomplish the impossible.
There is a hummingbird that is awakening in his chest. Each of the beat of his wings rewind a minute, an hour, a day in his life. He is back to a room with a dancing flower in his grasp, anxiety coursing through his veins and uncertainty clouding his mind. He didn't have much to lose anymore, except his family.
He gulps. Sand clogs his throat. The right answer doesn't come to mind, nothing comes to his chapped lips. "I…"
The boy shakes his head dejectedly. "Did I?"
No, Issei did not choose Riser. Not consciously, at least. He got off the Underworld Train at the Phenex's capital on a whim, because he recognized the name and wanted to find some familiarity in an unfamiliar world. His human heart needed comforting and his rotting mind needed confirmation that he was not dreaming or worse, in a mental ward, drooling his life away as he imagined a magical world that made no sense. Then, things snowballed into an avalanche without his accord. Riser, just like the city he inhabits, was a lucky shot. The teen needed to face someone he knew, even if their connection existed only through half-true visions that showed an egotistical asshole. In that moment, as he held three Glorygolds in his grasp, he had wanted an enemy he could understand. Bashir gave him access to Riser easily, effortlessly.
The rest was history.
Riser stands, slowly, deliberately. He watches his interlocutor intensively. He steps closer, until his bronze skin is all Issei can see.
"You seeked my san'dak's help. You requested for me, not for the heir nor the Marquis. Why?" he insists.
There is too much information, too many words Issei does not understand. The world spins out of its axis. His pinkie tingles. He startles. He has an ancient being taking space in his soul.
Ddraig, san'dak. Explain. Now.
[Glorified nanny for Devils,] Ddraig grumbles.
Issei stills. A face comes to mind, a face he would like to banish from his thoughts. A face that gave him access to Riser… almost too easily.
Bashir?
[Yes.]
Fuck. Issei can only curse in the respite of his mind. He did not know so much; he still ignores so much. What else now? Is Hades going to show up to ask for his wife and explains Issei owes him his soul or something?
[Answer the Devil before he razes your house. Although, it would not be so terrible to have this lousy shack torn down.]
Issei sighs.
He lets truth spills out, because lying would definitely land him on Riser's bad side. "You were the closest option. Bashir helped me when no one else could. He gave me access to you, but I would have accepted a meeting with any of your father's retainers."
Riser slouches. "It was all because of my san'dak?"
Issei twitches. The tip of the Devil's hair tickles his forehead.
"Yes," the boy utters.
Riser bends down. Blonde strands mesh with jagged brown hair. Pristine bronze skin meets bruised flesh.
"You are lying," he hisses.
Issei leans backward. He knew Riser long before they met, but he can't really admit to it.
"Why me?" the older man asks again. "Why did you have to disturb my life?"
Issei flinches. Disturb his life? What about mine? Did I ask for any of this?
He clenches his fists.
Riser steps closer. They both stand on the edge of a steep slope. The path they followed took a sharp turn to slowly start its descent into a kinder incline. The sound of the stream climbs the hills to dance on their ears.
Issei twitches a foot closer to the gorge. His heels meet air.
He opens his mouth. He vomits his thoughts, jumbled and mean.
"I chose you because I knew you would come." Issei snaps his chin up, ready for a fight. "I knew you would come for the Glorygold, that you would be incapable of resisting its attraction."
They're all suppositions he had; suppositions the third son of the Phenex House confirmed with his mere presence.
Riser crumples. A strangled laugh escapes his downturned lips. "You asked for me because… I was the younger brother with no glory nor accomplishment to his name." His head swings, incomprehension and its antonym battling on his rumpled face. "The failure of my family."
Issei wishes to gulp his words back. One, no, no, no, that's not what he meant. Riser couldn't fight the allure of the Glorygold because he is a hoarding Devil, obsessed with his own pride and shiny stuff. Two, where the fuck is the failure of his family, mister I'm-rich-and-famous? Issei is an emotional wreck who can't do anything right. Riser… is not like him. Three, emotional Devil is dangerous Devil. Heat is filtering from his copper skin, cranking up a degree with each jerky breath he exhales. Plants are withering around him, leaves turning crisp, dry and brown, incapable of withstanding the heightened temperature.
The teen shakes his head wildly. "I asked for you because you are a dreamer."
Riser grimaces. Issei mirrors his expression. He awkwardly tries to reach for the Devil's shoulder to pat it before thinking better of it. He is too hot to handle for poor human hands.
Instead, he insists. "You were ready to believe in a tale so grand, no one else would have believed it. Who would have believed a child on the cusp of puberty had somehow found a relic of the past by the Wall of the Forest beside you?"
Aforementioned child flaps his arms. "You came when no one else would have. You came and you reaped the Glorygold. Do you think your brothers or your Lord Father would have even entertained the thought of this for a second before discarding it as a folly? Do you think they would have let me walk away a free man?"
(Issei will not, cannot think about what could have happened had he not met Riser. That is a pandora box full of worms.)
Riser nods. It seems he holds an iota of common sense. Now, if he could understand that showing up unannounced at a teenager's house can cause some chaos, that would be sweet. Sweeter still would it be if he left immediately.
"Indeed, they would not have let you go," the third son of the Phenex says softly. "That was my mistake."
His periwinkle eyes zeroes on the boy's body, glowering at him. His gaze looks at him, but also seems to go through him, to be staring at something distant, something intangible.
Issei, with a start, realizes his left hand is out on the open. He covers his left hand with his right limb. A beat later, he recognizes it's ridiculous to keep both of his hands occupied in front of a Devil who could set him on fire. He retracts his hand, shoving it in his pocket.
Another question comes to mind, a question he simply must ask. A question to get the Devil's attention away from his flesh, blood and definitely not human nor devilish pinkie. "How did you find me?"
Riser exhales deeply against Issei's nape. He quirks the corner of his mouth up. The maliciousness he exudes does not disappear. "The Amon seal Bashir provided. You should not have kept it by your side."
Of fucking course. Issei winces. Bashir, from start to finish, would have been a pain his ass. When Riser leaves him alone, he is going to burn everything that was in contact with the ashen-haired Devil. Just to be safe.
(Might also scrub himself with alcohol. Just to be safe.)
"Did you know? My san'dak abandoned the art of war to raise me as a way to pay for his sins. He called it his redemption. I believe I have found my redemption," Riser states gravely.
Anxious emotions well in Issei' chest. Something's wrong, he just knows it. "What?"
The golden haired Phenex nods to himself. "Until today, I did not know what I could offer my brother to soothe his mind. I tried to reap the glory of another, and it was a great disservice to me, my family and my people."
Issei blinks rapidly. The Devil does not make sense. The conversation follows a lead he doesn't understand. Where are they going, where is this mad rambling leading them to?
[He wants to use you as his shield.] Issei scowls. His Dragon does not make sense either.
[He is going to throw you to the wolves,] Ddraig adds. Issei is sure he hears him chortle in the background.
Stop with the effing metaphors.
Ddraig humphs. [He is going to present you to his family and explain you were the one to lead him astray.]
Issei bristles. Oh, hell no.
"You told me to disappear," the teen accuses. His pinkie tingles, his bow croaks an angry song, his mind gears up. He can reason with the asshole. He can.
And if he can't…
His bow creaks a dissonant tune. It sounds like bones colliding and breaking.
Riser pats Issei's shoulder and the boy is trapped, trapped, trapped. On one side, there is a fall, on the other, a madman. Issei knows which one to choose. As his mother said, the flora of the deep is a spectacle to behold. "Indeed, I have. But now is the time to step into the light, Issei, son of no one."
The teenager braces himself. He tries to conjure an image of himself doing what he wants to do smoothly, picturing his actions to the smallest details. He just needs a little bit of time.
It needs to be flawless to work.
"There is one last thing I must know. Do forgive my cavalier behavior," the Devil intones. He envelops Issei with his body, bending and crouching till he is a ball of muscles and gold around the boy.
Issei slides his toes to the brittle edge of the cliff. He calculates how far Persephone is, how far his house, how far Riser's eyeballs are from his right hand and the invisible arrow he conjures-
Riser does not let him think anymore. He grasps Issei's left hand.
The teen yelps and yanks. His skin stretches, his muscles tense, his bones move in his flesh. He lurches to a side. Yet his limb stays in Riser's hold.
"You are not hurt," the older Devil states. He ogles Issei's bandaged hand. He pinches his palm, palpates his pinkie, explores the expanse of skin. His fingers slither under the flimsy cover that hids Issei's secret. They find rough, coarse scales.
"It seems you have been busy since our last meeting," the Phenex murmurs against disheveled hair. There is a victorious smile hiding in his monotone voice.
Issei tenses. It's time.
His muscles respond to his call. He throws himself as far as he can humanely be from the Devil. He loses his footing, pebbles tumbling away to reveal holes and moist soil.
Riser retains him with a hand on his waist. They twirl and suddenly, the golden Devil is the one edging on brittle soil and slippery pebbles. They're stuck together in a strange pose, a slip away from plunging into the valley's depths. "Now, now, it is not the time to faint, my young friend."
"Fuck off," Issei grits out. He stalls for time. Almost, almost there.
Riser laughs. He slides his hand up the teen's arm, to his delicate wrist.
Something pulsates through their body. Something beautiful, warm, intoxicating. It clings to Issei, climbs through his arm, dances on his shoulder blades, bounces on his veins. Attacks his mind.
You're safe, you're okay, you're mine, mine, mine. Don't fight. Come closer, come closer, I'll be good to you. Tell me everything you know, everything you are, everything you love. I'll hold everything, I'll be your everything.
A golden seal appears on his arm. It slithers into existence, flecks of gold and black beating to the drum of an ancient tune.
The boy slumps.
He opens his mouth to scream, rage, curse.
The words die on his tongue.
Magic, he thinks before the heat engulfs his last thought.
[I shall not allow this,] a voice thunders. A warm breath hits the boy's nape. Red envelops his arm and there comes his Sacred Gear in all its crimson glory.
It pulses once.
Issei's bones vibrate. His muscles melt. His skin throbs. Strength he can't control rushes through him, through his balled fist, through his tensed legs.
Issei buckles against Riser's grasp. He swings his fist.
Riser twirls.
The teen misses his target completely. Riser chuckles, humoring the little boy's attempt.
Issei grins. He kicks the ground and leaps, landing right into Riser's open arms.
A second, they levitate through space and time. In that instant of eternity, Issei catches sight of a woman wearing a lovely red checkered tuque and clothes belonging to an older era. He blinks. The next second, they crash.
Issei is on top, under Riser, everywhere. They tumble and tumble and tumble down. Plants graze his face, pebbles scratch his skin, trees catch his clothes only to rip them. Rings and jewelry bruise his flesh as they are squashed against his body and another. The soil under them slides with them, giving them momentum as they rocket to the end of their fall, the bottom of the ravine. They descend unceremoniously and roll, tumble, dance on uneven ground. They're tangled beyond reason. Issei doesn't know where his body starts and where Riser's ends.
A bounce. A stop. A groan.
Issei yanks himself out the tangled mess their bodies made. He stumbles to his knees, panting burning air as his body adjusts back to an energy it can contain. He crawls away from the fallen Devil, disoriented. Where the fuck is Persephone's urn? His blurred vision does not help to locate the colorful flowers that normally sway to the goddess's will.
Riser jumps to his feet. Soil dirties his hair. The creeping shadow of twilight darkens his countenance. Yet, he grins. He glances at his hand, fumes leaking from his burned skin. It changes colors rapidly, mending itself and shedding what's been killed on contact. "Aren't you a feisty…"
The rest of his words are lost to the world.
A stick strikes him across his face.
Issei sways. He crumbles back to his heels. In the blur that is his vision, he can still see who beat Riser fucking Phenex with a flimsy branch. A hysterical chortle hurts his lungs. He loves his family so, so much.
"Who the fuck do you think you are?" a hoarse, huffing and puffing voice growls.
A few rapids blinks and he can finally see his grandmother, in all her sweater weather glory, towering over a now kneeling Riser Phenex. She grips a stick Issei knows too well. It's the one he used as a crutch after his latest dance with a power line.
Riser covers his bruised cheek with his palm. He is baffled beyond words, beyond fighting back. There is something about a fearsome old woman yelling at people that just makes everyone kneel and listen intently, so they don't die.
"This," another hit sends Riser's head flying to the side, " is my home. Ise is my boy."
Fingers come disrupt Issei's tousled mess of a hairstyle. He tilts his head upwards, even though his neck stings worriedly. His mother offers a contrite smile. He leans against her legs and exhales, exhausted.
She covers Issei's ears. He hears everything, nonetheless.
His grandma knows a lot of impressive curses. He had never heard 'swine eating bastard' used with 'I've got diarrhea just looking at your slimy face'. He also learns to fear her stick fighting ability. She knows where to hit, according to Riser's grimacing face.
"Don't blame others for your own doing, you immature chicken." Another attack ends up on Riser's rounded shoulders.
The kneeling Devil opens his mouth.
"You were going to kidnap a child," Hikari chimes in.
Oh, so they were listening, Issei muses. It is somewhat reassuring to know they were hovering close by while he was on the edge of a cliff.
Chiasa bashes her stick against the ground. She points at her grandson. "He is 13 years old and eons more mature than you are. If your brother cannot love you when you're doing something good, then he is not a good brother to start with. He won't become better if you offer him something nice."
Riser opens his mouth, frowning. There is a refute bouncing on his tongue, Issei just knows it.
The Devil gets a whack for his audacity.
"You might have acted stupidly. I can believe that, looking at your stupidly handsome face. It doesn't mean your family has a right to demean and bully you. The same way you cannot blame my grandson for your idiocy, your brother cannot blame you for his own reactions," the older woman scoffs.
The golden-haired Devil, covered in rapidly fading bruises and dead leaves, blinks. His jaw quivers.
"It's not just my brother," he blurts out.
His grandma growls. "I don't care-"
"Chiasa," his mother calls sternly. Her fingers knead Issei's skull and it's the best feeling in the world. He sags against her some more. "Let him talk."
The older woman twists the stick between her palms violently. She humphs. "Fine," she drops.
The way she glares at the golden-haired man tells the world she won't hesitate to crush his skull if he speaks out of turn. Issei needs to take classes with her to learn how to appear so terrifying. The sheer power. The sheer terror. It's giving him goosebumps and he isn't the one getting yelled at.
(Riser Phenex tensing at his grandmother's every move and word is ridiculous. Perhaps Issei hit his head too hard and finally ascended to an alternate dimension. One where his family is the one terrorizing neighborly Supernatural beings. If so, Issei wants to meet Totoro and have a hugging session with him to make up for all the troubles he went through. The fluff will heal his soul.)
Riser shifts hesitantly. He rubs his forehead, unsure when and how to express his thoughts. Specks of dirt fall from his face, brown mist swirling to the ground. His expression clears. Finally, he opens his mouth and doesn't immediately clamp it shut.
"My sister is going to be betrothed to… a monster. He kidnaps young girls, and he rapes them." The words are so hateful Riser spits them out. He frowns and there is anger, hate and conflict hiding in plain sight on his face. "I was going to help her escape this masquerade by making her my Bishop, but now I cannot. Everyone is watching my every movement; I can't challenge my Lord Father's authority forthwith. If I do, then I will cause civil unrest. They will take my insubordination as a sign I wish to fight for the throne."
Riser pauses. "She is just a child," he murmurs. "She is just a child," his voice breaks.
In the gaps of his speech, Issei only really focused on one information.
Monster… rapes young girls… kidnaps them…
The teen jolts. "Diodora?" he asks numbly. "She is going to be betrothed to Diodora Astaroth?"
Riser glances at him. He nods.
Realization washes over the teen. Issei remembers Ravel. Sweet girl. Condescending, haughty, fiery, but sweet. Even now, as his vision swings, as his head spins out of orbit, he sees her bouncing, gravity-defying curls and glorious wings on fire. Diodora and Ravel… that is not a good equation. No one merits Diodora, whatever heinous crime they might have committed.
He understands Riser's motive better, he really does. It doesn't make anything he was planning on doing better. But Issei understands. He went to Hell for his family, he did terrible things, and he does not regret as much as he probably should.
Chiasa pounds her stick against the ground. "And your bright idea was to save a child by sacrificing another. Are you an idiot?"
"Grandma…" Issei pities the stiffening Devil enough to croak a word out. He also privately believes she shouldn't scream so much. It's bad for her throat.
Finger curls in his hair. They do not tug, but they do still and stop their heavenly massage. "He blamed you," his mother remarks gently. "More than that, he wanted to use you."
"To blame others for one's own actions is a sin," his grandmother decrees.
Issei grimaces. His knees throb and he shifts mindlessly to a less painful position. He should listen to his family. He really should.
Yet, as his grandmother so sharply commented, one should not sacrifice a child to save another. And Issei, with his experience of anguish, his years of anxiety, his dire need to see others smile to feel somewhat fulfilled, doesn't feel like a child anymore.
He is a teenager with a belly full of fire.
He twists his body to face Riser. He is probably as dirty as the Devil is. They both feel equally bad, except Issei's ache is rooted in his flesh. Nonetheless, he feels they are finally equal. "Your sister… is there any other way to help her?" he asks softly.
Riser shakes his head. "I have tried everything to change my parents' mind. The last option is killing him, but… it wouldn't save my sister from getting matched with another goon. According to my mother, it could be worse."
Issei frowns. Worse than Diodora let-me-just-mentally-destroy-young-girls? Not good. Not good at all.
Chiasa raises her stick again. "And so you come bother us with your problem. Useless."
She looks ready to swing her stick. Strangely enough, Riser does not try to avoid the incoming attack. Soiled, covered in recovering lesions and humus, he looks defeated.
Issei chuckles. He berates himself a moment later for being so relaxed, because the man is still a fucking Devil and a devious, stupid one at that. There should be a quota of emotional wrecks allowed in his home. Issei is enough of a handful for himself, he doesn't need anyone taking his anxious spotlight.
Riser stares at them through his blonde lashes. He looks hopeful. "Do you think you could help-"
The rest of his words are lost.
A tree falls on him.
The ground trembles.
The Devil flattens the ground under him. A groan escapes his lungs. His body spasms and it seems he might actually wiggle from under the thick trunk and get up. The tree -and what a tree it is! It's at least a century old, scars of fires and wild beasts decorating its broken bark- shudders. Its leaves quiver. Riser gives one last gasp and down he goes.
Issei gawks.
"Oh dear," Hikari eerily mutters.
Chiasa pokes Riser's fallen form with her stick. He does not twitch. His grandma nods approvingly. "Persephone did her job."
(Issei wonders how she can be so calm when she could have been flattened like a pancake by a humongous plant. She scarcely avoided its branches. The soil around her is covered by fallen leaves and brittle branches. A step to the left and she would have been minced meat.)
"Issei," Hikari calls him softly. She offers her dainty hand to hold.
He grasps her limb without hesitation. Chiasa saunters to his side and clasps his other hand when his knees wobble as he gets up. Thus he is righted and standing thanks to his family. His mother brushes his hair, patting the dirt away. His grandmother smacks her lips and offers him her sweater.
He accepts it with a grunt. The fabric feels warm against his aching body.
"Next time, wait for us. Your mom and Persephone were almost ready to gun him down," his grandma instructs.
He always knew his grandmother had a strange moral compass. But did he think she had it in her to murder someone?
(In hindsight, abso-fucking-lutely. Now, would he have believed his mother would resort to murder? Looking at her tranquil expression, he wants to say no. He really wants to. Sadly, his mother looks to have started her descent on a strange, dark path without him noticing.)
"You were here the whole time?" he inquires.
"What? You thought we would let you alone with him for real?" The elder of their family scoffs.
His mother pats his arm tenderly and he wonders why he even thought he would be facing everything alone.
"Issei, Issei," flowers whisper in the background. He cranes his neck in their direction and finally perceives Persephone's urn gleaming in the rising moonlight. "Thank the tree. It accepted to fall for you."
Issei cups his hands and does as he is told. That would not be the weirdest thing he did today. His mother follows his gesture a moment later.
Then, he stares at the fallen Devil. He feels torn. Are they going to leave him there? Persephone might actually use him as fertilizer and as much as the idea pleased Issei half an hour ago, now it kind of weirds him out. He is not ready to commit murder just yet, it seems.
"We have no obligation to help him," Chiasa grumbles. She noticed the way he ogles the tree and its victim.
Issei makes a face. "We are not going to help him. But his sister..."
"We have no obligation, Ise," his grandmother cuts him. "None. Our family comes first."
"Yes," he replies softly. "I'm not going to put us in danger. I just want to make sure there's truly nothing we can do."
"There is something we might be able to do…" his mother trails off.
Her mother-in-law and her son stare at her expectantly. Instead, she grabs Issei's arm and starts to drag him towards their house. "Let's get you cleaned up, dear."
Issei hobbles and wobbles, new aches bursting as he tries to keep up with her pace. "Mom?"
She pauses by the stream. It roars welcomingly at them. She pushes him and down he goes, sitting on a somewhat comfortable rock.
"The Glorygold…" She waves at Riser. "It is the best thing you could find for them, correct?"
Issei nods and his neck screams in reproach. He really should stop falling off cliffs. "Yeah. It's a national treasure. It's their Chokutō, except it's pretty and useful."
Hikari stares at the stream. The soft light of their Glorygold dances at the turn of the stream. "Ise," she starts softly.
He leans against her. His poor ringing ears can barely hear her voice over the stream's jolly gurgling. "Yes, mom?"
"Our closest neighbor is the goddess of spring," she adds mysteriously.
Issei is lost. Why is everyone speaking cryptic today? "…yes?"
"If the Glorygold is the highest present that could have been given to the Phenex, then what do you think their people would do to have one in their garden?"
Issei blinks. An insane plan is slowly starting to take form in his mind. It's so brilliant, he is a bit scared.
Hikari bends down and whispers in his ear. "There is only one Chokuto, but I do believe a flower can be propagated."
Issei stares at the stream. He sniffs. Everything makes sense. "Mom, I want a refund."
She hums questioningly. Her brows meet delicately over her bright eyes.
"Why didn't I get your genius genes?" he jokes, but really, why? He starts to tear up.
His mother laughs. Her hands ruffle his head lovingly, as if his idiotic brain was okay just the way it was.
"We can try to propagate our flower. If it works, we will offer that shining man this solution. Then he will owe us."
"The house needs better insulation." Chiasa snaked behind them and apparently listened to the whole exchange. She drops next to Issei's side. She plops his stick in his hand. "Let's bleed him dry."
Issei nods. Okay, okay. His family truly is going to start terrorizing supernatural beings soon, he feels it.
"I'm going to go get the wheelbarrow," his grandma announces grumpily. She massages her waist, stretching with a grunt. "You're not walking back to the house, young man."
She waggles a finger at Issei's face. "And you're grounded. No more bow practice until you're done painting the whole house."
"Grandmaaaaaa," he begs. He is not good at painting and why is he even grounded? He dealt with the situation pretty well.
"Stop doing stupid things. Play stupid games, win stupid prizes," the older woman bites out.
"She's right." Hikari declares. She pats his hand gently, kneading his knuckles. She blows on his cheek, and dirt falls off his raw skin. "You acted the way you thought best. And we should have told you we were there. But never, never throw yourself off a cliff again."
His grandmother slaps his shoulder, but it's too gentle to be mean spirited. "I almost had a heart attack, you unfilial grandson. Are you plotting my early demise?"
His mom nudges him. "My hair has just started regrowing, don't make me lose it all in fright now."
He grasps her hand. She smiles and bends down to offer his bruised knuckles a kiss.
He loves his family so much. He blinks rapidly, fighting back overwhelming emotions. In the end, he just nods jauntily. He understands, he will do better, he doesn't want to worry her, he wants to blurt.
Hikari puts a cautious arm around his arm. She smiles softly at him. Something hot and tingly come bother his vision to the point of making it blurry. He buries his face in the nook of her nape.
A lot of things are wrong in the world, but a few are really, truly beautiful.
Riser gapes at the ceiling of the bedroom where his body was unceremoniously dumped. It was painful to feel as the boy huffed, puffed and struggled to get him back to the house. His poor back also suffered a few transgressions for the boy's grandmother decided the best way to bring him was by dragging him on the ground.
His silk shirt is a rag. His pants are muddied beyond salvation. His hair is tangled. Yet he is not dead, and that is a good thing.
Whatever was at the bottom of the valley wanted him dead. The tree was just an appetizer. Riser knows when to concede defeat, when he faces a power he cannot fight. And, oh, better be dragged on the ground by a boy who stares at him with pity than play with a fire he cannot tame. Better be trashed by a stick wielding lady than to be smothered to death. Better be nibbled at by a rabbit…
His eyes twitch. The bunny part, never again.
(Except if he were to tread on a razor edge, of course. Surviving to see another sunrise is the most important, vengeance can wait.)
He doesn't fancy death. So he, very courageously, played dead.
He joins his hands together over the scruffy blanket they threw over his head. he fiddles with the material that easily comes off it into tiny rough balls. Seducing the boy to his side didn't go as planned, but that is okay. There is always tomorrow. And he learnt a lot about Issei, son of nobody.
He nuzzles his cushion. He buries his face in a cushion that smells like the boy's mother. It reminds him of the fearsome grandmother, Chiasa she named herself, who rebuffed him so violently.
She was daring. Daring enough to blame his family for his own wrongdoings…
A sniff escapes him.
There is some sense in her words. Blaming others for his own actions is beyond stupid. Then, his family blaming him for their reactions to his meritorious deed… perhaps it was not his fault.
His brother's anger… he was not totally at fault, after all.
Hello, lovelies. I have come back to the shores of fanfiction after many adventures, some sad, some merry. Dreams of Red never left my thoughts, but alas life can be quite the harsh mistress. Fear not, for I will not abandon this story. I want to finish it and I will.
Chokuto: Legendary sword used by Emperor Jimmu to found the Japanese nation
Glioblastoma (ripped right from Wikipedia, so if you want more information on what I inflicted on poor Hikari, you can go there): glioblastoma multiforme (GBM), is the most aggressive type of cancer that begins within the brain. Initially, signs and symptoms of glioblastoma are nonspecific. They may include headaches, personality changes, nausea, and symptoms similar to those of a stroke. Symptoms often worsen rapidly and may progress to unconsciousness. Despite maximum treatment, the cancer always recurs. The typical duration of survival following diagnosis is 12 to 15 months, with fewer than 3-7% of people surviving longer than five years. Without treatment, survival is typically three months.
Nature is scary.
Summary of this chapter in meme format:
Riser: Hey babe ;)
Issei: horrified
Chiasa, Hikari and Perseflower: Not today bitch. Start beating Riser with a stick or a tree.