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Cato
No matter how Cato looked, the boy was just a boy. He looked scrawny, more a child than a man, and his mannerisms were pedestrian. Despite being almost as old as Cato had been when Alduin returned, the boy, Issei Hyoudou, lacked any and all characteristics that Cato associated with dragons. But the boy was a dragon. Perhaps more accurately, the boy's soul was intertwined with the dragon, he was dragonborn, but chosen by the God of Christianity rather than by Akatosh.
The boy went about his daily activities with a languid indifference. His body was that of a child, and the way he moved, spoke, and acted were childlike. His desire for women was the only thing that could be reasonably be contrived as dragon-like, though not because dragons were fond of women, but because the boy approached women with the desire to have all of them, much like a dragon would.
Cato watched as Issei bumbled his way through class, he watched as Issei proclaimed his love for breasts to his friends, and he even watched as said friends peeped on a group of girls in their changing room. There was nothing dignified about any of it. It was as though Issei had been taken from his normal life and given these great powers only to continue living exactly as he always had – no sense of adventure, no daring, no passion in his actions.
After school, Issei met up with the same group every day, a group of similarly boring individuals, save for Akeno who, to Cato's surprise, was part of that group, which also meant they were the ones who stalked the night. Akeno appeared to be the leader of the group together with a girl called Rias, but save for ordering the dragon around, neither of them was extraordinary.
It wasn't until Cato followed Issei out on one of his tasks for the group that he gained anything from following the boy. The tasks were mundane, simply acts of meeting up with someone who requested the help of a devil and doing whatever task they had in mind, and often said tasks had nothing to do with the devil-nature of the boy. What exactly their species-specific traits were was still unclear as Freed hadn't elaborated particularly on why they were so shitty.
One of Issei's requests did however have a peculiar customer. Cato followed the boy as he rode around town on his bike into a richer portion of the town relatively close to the school. He stopped in front of a large house, almost a mansion in the middle of the city, a house that Cato recognized. Azazel's house. What the great leader of the Grigori, the Fallen, wanted with Issei was anybody's guess. As Issei vanished into Azazel's house, Cato sighed deeply into the night. "Now what the hell is this," he muttered. Issei had no relation to Kokabiel whatsoever, Cato was sure of that, so Azazel's interest in the boy had to be in his sacred gear, the great Boosted Gear, home to the celestial dragon Ddraig. There was no other interest point about the boy. Freed had stressed the strength of the sacred gear and the ineptitude of the boy, and Cato, too, found the boy lacking.
Azazel was an interesting man indeed. He had been the leader of the Fallen during the great war that raged some centuries earlier, and his faction had been at the precipice of victory when the leaders of the two other factions, the Church led by God and the devils led by four devil overlords, died. With the two other factions at his mercy, and indeed the fate of this world at his mercy, Azazel withdrew despite the angry outcries from the generals of the Fallen. Cato tried to imagine how he would've felt in Kokabiel's position that day, but try as he might, the idea of being subservient in such a way was incomprehensible. If he meant to dominate, then he would dominate. Of course, many Fallen saw Azazel as a coward unwilling to land the decisive blow when handed with the headman's axe, and although Cato had agreed with them at first, Cato felt that he was starting to understand why Azazel acted the way he did.
There was no indicator as to what Azazel's plans with Issei were. The two seemed to be doing little other than staring at their TV and speaking loudly at one another. Either Azazel kept his cards impressively close, or he just had a penchant for doing things on a whim.
Issei eventually left the house with some oddly shaped trinket and a puzzled look. Azazel stood in the doorway and watched him leave, and after Issei turned the corner and was out of sight and earshot, he spoke into the night.
"Following high-schoolers now, are you?"
Cato stepped out from his hiding place. "I suppose it's to be expected that my lead is related to you somehow. Can I come in?"
"I don't see why not."
His house had a rustic feel to it. The walls were dark in color and filled out with beautiful paintings, the furniture was made of quality wood with expert carvings, and even the smell reminded Cato of a high noble's housing. Azazel was something of a collector if the variety in the living room was any indicator.
"Nice place."
"Care for a cup," Azazel said, holding out a small drinking bowl. Sake. Cato took it. He had little love of the substance, but he came to understand that it held an important part in Japanese culture. It was bitter and strong and reminded Cato more of cleaning detergent than it did a drink, or at least that's how it was the few times Cato had tried it before. Azazel poured him a cup, and he returned the favor as was custom. There seemed to be a custom for everything related to food and drink in this country. It was charming.
The taste had hints of apple and cinnamon and a remarkable savory quality, and rather than burn it left a pleasant heat going down.
"It's good," Cato said. It really was.
"Only the best. I've missed a drinking partner, truth be said. I hoped the boy could be my drinking partner, but apparently, he's too young to drink and a stickler to the rules. Strange for a devil."
"A devil indeed," Cato said, mind racing. Last time, Azazel had the upper hand, but this time, Cato came better prepared. For the next stage of the plan, it was vital that Azazel remain in the dark for a bit longer. It bore with it a risk, of course. If Azazel knew how much Cato knew, then masquerading as an ignorant would call his motive into question. Worse yet, if Azazel already knew about Kokabiel, then the pieces would surely fall into place for the leader of the Fallen. "I've been watching him for a few days as it stands. Mischievous lad he is. Chases all the girls around with fervor that makes me think it's all he cares about in life."
"Oh, you really are following high-schoolers then?"
"The girl you sent my way," Cato took out the card that Xenovia had given him. Magician, what kind of pretentious fool would call himself that? "She seems to have a peculiar interest in Kuoh Academy, and she even went as far as to visit Issei Hyoudou at his house. What's more, she seemed put off by the whole thing, like she was conducting a nasty business exchange," Cato pushed the card over to Azazel as Azazel poured him another cup of sake. "Nice touch with the card by the way."
A few more drinks went down in relative silence, a strange camaraderie settling between the two. Cato found that for each cup, the next tasted better, and soon his body felt warm and tingly.
"Was she working with Kokabiel," Azazel eventually asked.
He doesn't know about Kokabiel. "The girl? No. She's entirely unaffiliated with him as far as I can tell, but her work has her looking for him nonetheless. Apparently, your old friend stole some priceless artefacts from the Church, her employer, and she's working to get them back. Seems odd to me that they'd send a young girl like her for such an important job, but then again I suppose they might not care much about these so-called priceless artefacts."
"And what artefacts might that be."
"Three holy swords. As to why they're holy or what that even means, who knows, but they are supposedly prized possessions by the church. Were, as it stands. Excaliburs, they're called, a reference to the mythological sword Excalibur from British mythos, and apparently they believe these swords to be forged from the broken shards of the actual Excalibur from the myth."
"The girl told you all that?"
"She did," Cato nodded. "You'd be surprised at how much someone is willing to tell you when you're trying to help them.
"The same goes for when they're a few drinks in," Azazel said as he once more poured Cato a cup.
"Buttering me up, are you?"
Azazel smiled as he handed the carafe to Cato. "Of course. Restraint is such a bore, don't you agree?"
Cato only smiled in return, all too happy to drink another cup of sake. A drinking partner then, yes, he understood why Azazel wanted one.
"In this country, it's said that sharing a cup of sake can make you brothers," Azazel said.
Cato poured another cup for his friend. "As long as you're not trying to marry me, I suppose."
Cato
Cato strolled down the street with an ice cream cone in his hand and a smile on his face. There was uncertainty after Azazel took the initiative, and for a while Cato was at a loss, but it was fair to say that his chance encounter with Freed Sellzen had changed everything. The status quo, which before was unknown to him, was now molded by him. The pieces on the board had changed, so to speak, their allegiances and goals were shrouded, and he was the only one who knew the faces in this grand masquerade.
It felt like the wind of fate was blowing in his favor now. Had Kokabiel arrived at any other time than he did, Cato would've been woefully unprepared, but everything worked out just right. There was only one piece left to convert, so to speak, and the preparations for that piece were finished.
Every night since the day Cato followed Issei to Azazel's house ended up with Cato and Azazel pouring each other drinks, talking and laughing about this or that while trying out an assortment of drinks and even a few cocktails. Ultimately, nothing of consequence. There was a certain restlessness growing in Azazel though, one that Cato noticed more and more as the days passed and nothing happened.
"You're bothered that Kokabiel hasn't shown up again?"
Azazel had divulged the information to Cato one of the earlier nights. Kokabiel had been sighted in Kuoh roughly a week prior, and much as Cato had predicted, Issei and the high schoolers had been involved in the incident. The odd thing was that Kokabiel and disappeared shortly after their initial appearance, and no news of the Fallen or the Excaliburs had emerged since then, Cato had made sure of that. The Fallen that Azazel mentioned to have grouped up with Kokabiel had never appeared, and they might not even exist to begin with.
"It doesn't add up. He was trying to…" Azazel paused, unwilling to give away too much information even now. "His goals are unaccomplished, and he had all the pieces. It makes no sense, not unless another player entered the game. What about on your end, did following the devils get you anywhere."
"Yes, as a matter of fact," this was the moment. Whatever Azazel had previously thought of Cato would become irrelevant, whatever his designs had been for Cato when he first brought him into the fray would have to change. "I have found the Excaliburs."
Azazel's head snapped to Cato so fast he might've gotten whiplash. "What?" he hissed more than he spoke, and Cato allowed himself a smug smile.
"The girl you sent my way, Xenovia Quarta, requested me to find the swords, so naturally I kept my eyes open."
"That's not what I mean, I… no, just go on."
"There was a priest, not from the church mind you, who was roaming the streets. I had heard word of some murders in the city, and though I didn't take any requests regarding them due to our-"
"Never mind that, just get to the part with the swords."
Cato nodded, wondering if Azazel realized how much he sounded like a young boy listening to his favorite story. "The priest was the culprit behind at least some of the murders, and he happened to be in possession of four swords – which I might add is overkill when killing civilians – not talking from personal experience of course – and of those swords, three of them were the prized Excaliburs. The last one was a strange lightsaber, like the ones from the movie."
"You just… stumbled upon them while looking into the murders? No, more to the point, how did you get the swords away from the priest?"
Cato smiled again. "Well, not to brag or anything, but I consider myself something of a martial artist," he made a chopping motion through the air to demonstrate. Azazel shook his head, unimpressed.
"You went looking into a small side-matter, you found three legendary swords and just, what, karate chopped the brigand that has eluded major organizations and syndicates for weeks?"
"When you put it like that, anything will sound stupid."
Azazel sighed and poured himself a cup of sake and promptly gulped it down. Cato almost protested at the breach of etiquette but found that it was too amusing to interrupt. Azazel filled another cup and drained that too before he spoke again. "What did you do with the swords?"
"Gave them to the girl, of course."
He gave the answer with no hesitation, and Azazel just gaped at him for a few seconds before blubbering some half-words.
"You're asking the wrong question, though."
Azazel looked like, no, he wasn't asking the wrong question, but he humored Cato nonetheless. "What should I be asking then?"
Cato leaned back in his chair.
"What happened to the priest?"
Azazel frowned so deeply as he asked the question that Cato worried his face might get stuck. This was the crucial part, mummery that would change the world. The excitement threatened to spill over, but Cato schooled himself – if he let up now, the whole farce would be moot. "What happened to the priest," Azazel eventually echoed.
Unfortunately, it wasn't time to answer that question yet. "Do you know what Kokabiel's goal in Kuoh was?"
Azazel didn't answer.
"I discovered much during this investigation, Azazel. Much of it I presume you already know, perhaps even all of it, but most importantly, there are three factions of supernaturally able beings that are in a stalemate. Yours is the Fallen, then there is the faction led by those you keep calling 'the devils', the ones from Kuoh Academy, and then there is the Church-faction. I'm not yet sure why you're all so hostile to one another – you might perhaps enlighten me on the subject if you please – but I understand enough to know that the status quo is fragile, almost waiting to be broken," Cato paused at that, but Azazel kept his silence. "Kokabiel wanted to do just that, his goal was to create mayhem at Kuoh Academy using the relics of the Church," Cato leaned in over the table for dramatic effect. "I think he meant to kill Rias Gremory, the leader of the Kuoh faction."
The words hung in the air exactly as Cato envisioned. Azazel seemed to be looking past Cato, lost entirely in thought, and Cato gave him time to form his response.
"It's true," Azazel said after a while. "Kokabiel's goal was to kill Rias Gremory and Sona Sitri, though you're wrong in your supposition that Rias is the leader. Rias and Sona both are the younger siblings of the true leaders, and the death of the girls would necessitate a violent response. I won't apologize for keeping this from you, rather, you must know that you were more of a curiosity to me. I never expected that you would find out anything at all, least of all recover the stolen Excaliburs."
I have him, Cato realized, and once more his glee threatened to spill over, but he forced it down. "Now, as for the priest. The priest was working with Kokabiel, or I should say he is working with Kokabiel."
"Oh?"
"He will kill the girls."
Azazel frowned again. "So, you knew about Sona Sitri then?"
"The priest just called them the whores, you'll understand why I'm using my own terminology. I thought he meant Akeno Himejima and Rias Gremory, the two that I presumed were the ringleaders, or whatever their title may be."
Sona Sitri hadn't seemed like an important character, but then importance by virtue of birth rarely kept his interest. The boy wasn't much different in that regard, although the promise of a dragon was enough to entice Cato as it always was. Sona was a rather small girl as Cato recalled, she wore glasses and had an elegant poise that distinguished her from her peers, but not enough to warrant further investigation. Another oversight. She had seemed more like a highborn girl who had learnt her conduct and mannerisms by people who presumed themselves to be the betters of society, and as Azazel revealed, she was just that.
"What will you do about it," Azazel asked.
"What will I do about it," Cato huffed. "I will do nothing, as is my place, what will you do about it is the only question that warrants an answer, Azazel."
"You think this my responsibility?"
Cato shrugged. "Truth is you were looking for Kokabiel to begin with, and I was, as you so eloquently put it, merely a curiosity in the big picture, so the question is, will you do anything to stop Kokabiel, or will you leave the girls to die, thus reigniting the war of the three factions?"
Azazel would've had a plan for preventing the war that Kokabiel wanted, of that there was no doubt in Cato's mind. Azazel had fought hard and sacrificed much to bring peace. The disappearance of Kokabiel meant that Azazel's plans were upset, and he now needed to move fast to come up with a plan to replace the old one, one that he very well might've worked years to make. Azazel was working with minimal information, and all that the Fallen knew now that the pieces had changed came from Cato and Cato alone. With not enough time to gather his own information and nothing to fall back on, there was only one place for him to turn. Azazel remained silent for the longest time.
"You don't understand what you're saying, Cato. You know much – more than you have any right to – but you didn't see the great war, you didn't experience it," Azazel said, his voice slow and quiet and deliberate. He stood up before continuing, walking over to one wall, his back turned to Cato, his stride steady and somber despite how much he drank earlier. "Another war is something that must be avoided at any cost. At any cost. It is the worst misery possible. The death of invention, of art, of love, and of beauty. It is where women cry rather than love, and where men die rather than dream. Nothing is born or built in such devastating conflict; there is no valor, no honor, no glory, much as Kokabiel may claim otherwise. No, there is nothing in such all-encompassing chaos save for misery and death."
Cato only nodded and gave an expectant look. And what are you going to do about it?
"You…" Azazel hesitated as he turned to face Cato, his expression changing from pained to pensive. "I will tell you everything."
Kokabiel
There was a certain power to the place, a certain mystery that retained his interest. He kept himself busy looking at all the scribblings and the artefacts, and when that joyful pastime became too repetitive, he had swallowed his pride and asked for a book from his honorable host; there wasn't much else to do while chained to the wall after all. Even the book was peculiar. It wasn't some ancient grimoire containing spells the likes of which would make his eyes boggle – and he had half come to expect that – it was a book on theoretical physics of all things. He opted not to read it. Most of the other books were similarly uninteresting to Kokabiel, though not similar in topic. There were books on flora, beekeeping, martial arts, evolutionary biology, various mythos, and even a book on magic – as in the magic performed by human 'magicians'. Tricks, really. There was some odd quality about the whole thing, like it was an alien trying to learn more about the world it strayed into and had opted to throw its net as wide as possible.
It was fitting enough given the nature of his host. The ambush that took him out had been one laced with betrayal, something that Kokabiel found himself on the receiving end of far too often. Never once had he betrayed anyone, unless his single act of disobedience against his Father counted, yet his fate was to be backstabbed by those he thought of as allies. Even now, he wasn't sure exactly what had happened. One moment, he arrived at Kuoh Academy, and the next, the world changed around him and Freed stabbed him in the back with some sort of enchanted dagger.
Kokabiel ground his teeth. His plans were in shambles. The Church had sent two pathetic girls to avoid sparking an incident, as if that was all the glorious swords were worth. Killing the two devil heiresses was the backup plan, but that apparently conflicted with his honorable host's plans for the half-fallen girl in the Gremory peerage. What that plan was, Kokabiel couldn't begin to guess. It was probably something horrifically sadistic. Cato's plans for Azazel were more interesting to Kokabiel, and if said plans didn't involve himself, they would be delightful. Kokabiel couldn't help but grin savagely as he imagined Azazel's face when the old fool finally realized what was happening. He wouldn't be the one dishing out his vengeance, but all that meant was one less sin for him to bear – in the end, vengeance was just self-satisfaction.
Cato had been through many times, tinkering with this or that, barely sparing Kokabiel a glance. Be patient he had said, and then left Kokabiel mostly alone. At one point, he brought the three stolen Excaliburs. The swords had given Kokabiel a modicum of peace in this dark room, until the bastard desecrated them with his vile magics. The Excaliburs were beautiful swords. Swords that even now reminded Kokabiel of the glory of his Father, and to see the monster defile them was harder than any humiliation he could suffer to his own person. It was as bad as Azazel's research into the sacred gears, another heresy among many that the Fallen had committed over the centuries.
Azazel… that craven believed the goal of life to be peace. Peace! Blasphemy is what it was. His wings may be blackened, his heart may be sinful, but Kokabiel never strayed from the purpose that his lord creator had made him for. He was an angel of war. A tool of retribution and justice, made for it, made to love it, made to revel in it. Many fallen had accused him of falling from grace because of his bloodlust, but they knew nothing. He had faults, as had they all, but his desire to take down the factions was not one of them.
It wouldn't be long now before Kokabiel could live out his true purpose again, and this time, the battle would rage until his death. There was no fear of death in him, not even a shred. Death was better than peace, that was how God himself created Kokabiel, and only once had Kokabiel defied his destiny.
The sound of footsteps alerted him that it would begin soon. Two men entered, both of whom the Fallen recognized, but only one showed recognition in return.
"What's wrong with the priest?"
"He lost himself," Cato waved his hand in dismissal. "Irrelevant."
Kokabiel frowned. He didn't much fancy the idea of having his own mind broken, but at least that suggested that Freed hadn't willingly betrayed him. As though reading his mind, Cato spoke.
"Yours mind's safe. I merely used him for too long."
Kokabiel nodded at that. "I take it the craven took the bait?"
"And more, at that."
What exactly that 'more' was apparently didn't concern him, because Cato ignored him and went to tinker with a dagger-like gemstone.
"Azazel originally planned to deal with you by using a man known as Vali Lucifer."
Cato looked at Kokabiel after speaking, as though to gauge whether the name sparked any recognition. "The son, or descendant at least, of the old Satan, I guess," Kokabiel said. He had learnt in full that lying never paid off with this man.
"I see, so you don't know after all," Cato said, holding up the gemstone dagger into the light. It shone brilliantly, a myriad of colors, seemingly changing even as the dagger was held still and the light didn't flicker. "Vali Lucifer has the second Celestial Dragon, Albion."
Kokabiel kept his silence.
"They are bound to clash," Cato said. "Unless someone intervenes before that happens."
Kokabiel's mood soured. "You're not planning on-"
"No. You shall have your wish. What matters is merely that I have just cause now, should anyone care about such a thing. And Azazel might even see the wisdom in my actions."
"He'll cheer you on even as you tear down everything he built," Kokabiel snorted. Cato was a sadist of the worst kind, another abomination that needed to be ended in the war that was to come. Of course, the task would fall to Kokabiel as it always did. It was a shame that Azazel never saw reason until it was too late.
"Freed, release the Fallen," Cato said, handing the priest an odd-looking key.
There was no soreness where the manacles had been attached to his wrists and feet, but he rubbed them nonetheless, his brain refusing to acknowledge the magical properties of the restraints. For a moment, Kokabiel thought to attack his host, but the madness passed as his eyes turned to Freed. What need had Cato for chains when disobedience meant becoming that. He was sure Cato knew his thoughts. The man showed no signs of caring about Kokabiel's presence behind him whatsoever.
"Take this," Cato handed him the crystal dagger from before. The moment Kokabiel's hands touched it, its shimmering surface warped into a blackish purple color, still translucent at its tip and with strange tendrils moving inside of the blade. The whole thing was made in a single cut, blade and hilt both. It was more like a glorified spike that was given a handle. "When Hyoudou Issei summons the boosted gear, you will stab the gear with this dagger."
Kokabiel frowned. "What purpose would that serve? I can just kill the boy if you want him dead."
"You will do as I say."
He bit down his pride even as rage threatened to overtake him. You dare.
It was a peculiar order though, one that didn't seem to make any sense. Was it a way to steal the boosted gear, or perhaps a way to enhance its effect to make the user more powerful? Cato wanted a fight, that was all Kokabiel had been able to discern, and to get that fight, they would start a war. Examining the knife further, Kokabiel noticed tiny markings carved into the blade. They weren't in any language that Kokabiel could understand despite his Father's blessing to understand any language that mortals spoke. It could be a magical circle of sorts, or merely decoration. Cato seemed to care greatly for the way everything looked.
"You can leave whenever," Cato said. "The time has come, and whether you succeed or not, the pieces are already in motion."
After saying so, Cato turned his back to Kokabiel, disregarding him like a lion ignores its fleas. Kokabiel willed his hateful glare to make the man disappear, but no such miracle happened. They were allied only because their ends were the same, and when the war erupted, Kokabiel would strive for his death before any other, but the broken priest still stood next to him, a reminder that for now, disobedience was worse than even peace. Father forgive me. If even a shred of your spirit is left on this world, let this living embodiment of malice burn in hell.
