Thank you all for your patience! Thus far, as a whole and for me, personally, 2020 has been a pretty rough year, and I hope you're all staying safe and healthy. Take good care of one another, and make sure to take care of yourselves.

Please read, review, and enjoy! : )

I do not own Ao no Exorcist.

Mineko's hands were tucked neatly behind her, pressed flat against the wall of the guest hall to ensure they did not give away how nervous she was with a show of fidgeting. Every once in a while she raised her head as a black suit or another person in uniform turned the corner, entered or exited the second guest suite, following their movement for a moment before glimpsing their expression and casting her gaze towards her socks once more. Yellow frogs stared up at her with bulging black eyes, the lily pads beneath them rippling as she wiggled her toes.

The floor was cool, as was the air in the hall, steadily sinking through her layers to keep her alert and miserable. It might be days before the gaping hole at the end of the hall was patched—maybe even weeks if Sakata wanted the door's original design reproduced and weather conditions did not improve.

The draft got her thinking about the roof, and the morning she spent wading through the water in her boots searching for fallen tiles. Had Maria had time to look into roof repairs? Was there any water damage in the attic?

The main guest suite door opened sooner than she was expecting, and the Captain stepped out, her eyes searching until they landed on her. For several agonizing seconds she was scrutinized from the ground up, the unapologetic stare lingering the longest on her face and eyes in particular. Only when the spectacled woman stepped forward did she break her silent analysis, crossing her arms. "You'll be escorted home now. Pack one bag or suitcase to bring back with you tonight. No laptops or hand-held electronics except for your phone. I would recommend clothes and bathroom supplies; if it's not a necessity, it's only extra weight. Is that clear?"

Wood creaked as Mineko ascended to the second floor one stair at a time, the weight of her suitcase and her thoughts slowing her climb. In front of her, Maria's tread on the staircase was lighter, ghosting over each step in a hurry: she probably had more work to do. But her shoulders looked bunched under her kimono, struggling beneath an invisible burden that she did not speak of.

Hours ago she had bumped into the caretaker on her way out the front door and briefly explained what was happening. While she had been correct in predicting the surprise that washed over the older woman's face at the news, she was unsure what to make of the tight, guarded expression that followed.

When she returned in the black of night, packed suitcase in tow, Maria was the one to greet her at the door, ushering her inside as if she was another guest and not her assistant and friend. They had shared many silences, but it had been a long time since they held one so unnatural.

At the top of the stairs Maria turned left, leading her to the farthest room: as far away as she could be from the guest suite while residing in the manor. "I've replaced the bedsheets for you and cleaned out a few of the drawers if you'd like to put some of your clothes in the dresser." She turned on the overhead light, bringing green linens and ivy-colored walls to life as the dresser and wardrobe swelled out of the floor like thick tree trunks, bedposts twisting upwards like knotted roots. As she stepped around the bed to close brassy curtains across the room's single window, Mineko set her suitcase down, noticing her backpack sitting at the foot of the bed. "Towels and extra bathroom supplies are where they always are," the older woman said, her back still angled towards her when she glanced over her shoulder.

Mineko unzipped her bag and lifted the fabric, a flush of indignation rising in her at the sight of the crumpled clothes and hastily stowed belongings. Maria had greeted her at the front door without so much as a smile, and two black suits had searched her suitcase as if she was passing through a security checkpoint. As if she had something to hide from them. She closed the top and stood. "Thank you, Mari-ia-san. Have you seen my slippers? They w-w-weren't downstairs…"

Maria walked towards her, frowning, and said "I have not," before passing. She closed the bedroom door quietly, not in a conspiratorial way, but with enough respect and self-assuredness to demand privacy from any nosy guests who might have been watching from afar.

"Mineko-chan." She did not bother to lock the door. Her slippers clapped across the room to deposit her on the edge of the seat by the window, fingers locking together in her lap.

Mineko moved swiftly over to her and looked around before reluctantly sitting on the bed, putting a greater distance between them than she would have preferred. She leaned forwards slightly, hands gripping her knees as she waited for Maria to continue.

"I can only speculate why our guest downstairs invited you to come back here." She did not say his name. "In a similar way, I can only imagine the reasons you chose to accept his invitation." Maria's tone was light, but the frown that graced her appearance on the doorstep had not left her face. Mineko felt her own body tensing, her mind slipping into excuses and explanations as she waited for her to begin asking questions. "I know you are kind, and thoughtful, and hard-working… Still, my thoughts lead me to the worst conclusions."

In an instant her mind ceased all processing. The tiniest spark of neural activity left her with only one phrase before puttering out: I don't understand. That much must have been obvious, because the caretaker suddenly fidgeted on her seat, looking agitated, as if her discomfort outweighed hers.

"Mineko-chan, do you know who is downstairs in the first guest suite?" Her unease was infectious.

"No. I-I mean, yes, he's a—the Commander. I don't…actually kno-o-ow-w his name…" So she didn't really know who he was. "…No." Her long-winded and clumsy answer seemed to worry Maria anyway. It was like watching a braided rope fray, as if each second snapped threads that were already straining, pulled taut for too long.

"He is well-known and respected in his circle, but outside of it, not easily recognized. If you do not know him, then he should not know you, and vice versa. Do you understand? He shouldn't care about you being here; he shouldn't even notice you. Unless you've given him a specific reason to pay attention, he should have no interest in keeping you around. Did he say anything to you? Did he intimidate you? Did someone threaten you? Is that why you came back?" She did not give her time to answer any of the questions. "I was relieved when it was decided that you would be sent home. I didn't want you to be here with all of them in the manor, around him. It's business that has nothing to do with you. It was better that way." Maria's hands broke apart as she pressed a fist against her forehead and closed her eyes, taking a breath to steady herself. Then another. When she had calmed a little, she spoke more steadily, softer. "Please, listen to me carefully, Mineko-chan—" Her words cut off when she opened her eyes and saw her face.

Maria had been staring determinately at her hands as she ranted, glancing up only once while throwing the line of questions at her. She did not see her suck in her breath and hold it after averting her gaze downwards again, feeling her cheeks warm and eyes begin to sting. The next time Maria turned her attention towards her, the seal on her lips broke, the tight line of her mouth parting to release a loud gulp for air.

She was crying in front of her supervisor.

It had been a long time since she cried in the presence of another person. And now that it started, she couldn't seem to stop it, choking on the words she tried to speak, shortening her breath each time a sudden sob interrupted her or a wet sniffle was needed to keep the mucous from dripping out of her nose. It was horrendously embarrassing.

Maria stood, looking like she wanted to console her. Then she sat back down in her chair and watched her cry. Whether the older woman was aware or not, the lack of comfort did Mineko the greater service, because if she had decided to sit next to her on the bed, or gently patted her head like a mother, she knew she wouldn't be able to manage a single word.

"I came…back," Mineko sniffed and rubbed her hands across her eyes, "b-because I w-w-w—," she huffed and swallowed, "I w-wanted to help you… That's all. I di-didn't know that… Sorry. Sorry, I-I need to use the bathroom." Too self-conscious to look at Maria, she swiftly turned, knocking her knee against the foot of the bed but carrying on through the pain.

"Mineko-chan, wait—" She caught the door knob and let herself out, not bothering to shut it behind her. Doing her best to stifle her crying, she hurried down the hall and locked herself in the bathroom before Maria could catch up.

"W-w-what are you doing?" she immediately demanded at her reflection in the mirror, pink eyelids blinking tears from the corners of her eyes. "You decided now-w was a good time to have an emotional breakdown? Why?" After a moment of silence without answers, she turned on the faucet, letting the hiss of the water distort her uneven breaths.

Maria had been attempting to warn her about something—about their guests. There was no misconstruing that. It wasn't some sort of rejection, it was a warning. And she had choked up and rushed out in an unstable state, because… She couldn't really say.

She wanted to work alongside Maria; she wanted the company and the structure she brought to her life. But she did not feel any of those good, positive things she associated with her, here, now, with the guests creeping around like spiders, the old man withering in the sickbed, and the cold air breathing through the hole in the guest hall.

She felt ill. Sooner or later, if she hadn't already, Maria would realize that Sakata's guests were not the only thing bothering her.

By the time she returned to her room, more composed and ready to speak, or at the very least, listen, Maria was gone. A note sat on one of her bed pillows, its message short and written in Maria's small, neat handwriting. She apologized for upsetting her, and would speak with her again, as soon as she could manage. There was nothing in the note about her warning, or their guests, and Mineko couldn't shake the unease of understanding that their conversation was not meant to be mentioned to anyone else.

The ceiling uttered a long creak and Mineko's eyes shot open, focusing on the darkness. Lying in bed, she listened for the buffet of wind against the wall, the murmur of voices passing, the groan of the manor settling. The bedroom was silent; not even a noisy clock to tick away the seconds.

Another creak came from above—like a short step taken, much lighter than the first. The ear that was not nestled into the pillow directed her attention somewhere above the window. She turned her head, freeing the other ear to glance over her shoulder. Her eyes were adjusting to the dark, finding the familiar shapes in the room. She was alone.

Another step.

Perhaps someone was in the attic—Maria, carrying out an unreasonable request from a guest at an unreasonable hour. It wouldn't be surprising, she told herself.

The next creak of wood placed the walker farther away from the window, moving towards the adjacent room. It sounded like someone failing at a discreet trek about the attic, stepping quickly to avoid noise and pausing between each step to see if anyone took notice. Mineko lifted her head off the pillow and squinted at the point on the ceiling where she thought a person might fall through.

A particularly sharp squeak of wood was followed by a prolonged silence.

Her heart beat loudly in the quiet as she monitored the walker's progress across the ceiling. Now that she was truly paying attention, there was something off about the creeping gait; a little too long of a time lag between each step that went beyond cautious movement. She listened until the footsteps faded, crossing into the attic space over the next room.

For a long while she did not move, waiting for another sound, waiting for the slow walker to return.

Eventually she let herself recline in the bed again, her back to the window. She closed her eyes, hooking her fingers into the blanket as she released a long sigh, wondering if she was imagining things. She pulled the blanket over her head.

The manor was quiet when Mineko woke, the dim light of morning glowing from behind the bedroom curtains. She didn't need to look at a clock to know that she should have been up at least an hour ago to start work. But she hadn't set an alarm on her phone—it remained turned off, as she had been instructed—or an alarm on the battery-powered clock beside the bed. Maria had not brought up her work shift the night before, and no one had come knocking on the door, complaining about her absence. She dared to glance at the clock.

6:49.

Her body still wanted her out of bed, despite the weariness she felt as she pushed away the covers. Guilt turned into dismay as she remembered her conversation with the Commander. Surely she was meant to perform her chores and assist Maria during her stay? They couldn't expect her to spend every waking hour at the old man's bedside, entertaining him with stories or listening to him ramble on about whatever came to mind?

Long, philosophical debates; small talk; nostalgia; invasive questions… Mineko sighed aloud as she got out of bed, showered, and dressed herself for the day. The valuables she carried with her she stored in various inconspicuous spots around the room, not trusting that a black suit would refrain from barging in and searching her belongings again "for security reasons." She kept her phone in her back pocket, powered off. When she was sure the bedroom door was shut securely behind her, she slipped quietly down the hall in her socks, neither seeing nor hearing anyone.

A sudden memory from last night—this morning?—had her stumbling and then back-tracking a couple steps to stand beneath a door in the ceiling that led into the attic. She stared at the chord dangling above her head longer than necessary before continuing down the hall. Now that day was upon the manor, she felt more courageous about investigating strange noises. After she ate, if no one needed her, she would ascend to the upper level to look for signs of disturbance.

The lights were on on the ground floor, but the kitchen, smelling faintly of cinnamon, was deserted, a few miscellaneous dishes left out to dry on the rack. Breakfast was peaceful and lonely, despite the fact that she was not really alone in the manor. She had left the room's double doors open wide to indicate someone was up and awake, mostly in hopes that Maria might see, and, out of curiosity, walk in to find her sitting there.

With nothing better to do, she let her imagination enact the scene: Maria popping in with a surprised look and then, casting a wary glance around, shutting the double doors before seating herself across the table to mutter warnings of how the guests could not be trusted; how it was Sakata's property, and as his guests, they would have to tread carefully as though infiltrating an enemy camp. Sakata was in charge, and she and Maria still held power as his trusted employees, the defenders of the castle. They may have greater numbers and assigned ranks, but they cannot match your authority.

The daydream faded and she blinked at her empty breakfast plate, yearning for the confidence such words would empower her with from the inside out as she fashioned her mask of hopes and uneasy assumptions.

Mineko rolled up the sleeves of her sweater, cast what she hoped was an innocent glance around, bent her legs and jumped upwards, fingers splayed and barely catching the handle at the end of the chord dangling above. Gravity and body weight helped lower the attic door, the compact ladder sliding down to meet her at a frightening speed. She tensed every muscle, dug her boots into the floorboards, and caught the sturdy extension before it could knock her off balance, wrestling with it for a moment with trembling arms and then lowering it slowly and safely to the ground where it settled with a solid thump. Cool air trickled down from above, carrying the smell of stagnancy and age reserved for abandoned places.

Mineko sniffed and rubbed her nose before grabbing the sides of the ladder and climbing up, hesitating for a second before her head could clear the landing, the shuttered darkness of the attic intimidating her despite the waking day. A single pair of windows mirrored one another on the east and west walls, but the sun had not emerged above the treetops yet; no golden slants of light to greet her, only morning blue.

Keeping one hand on the ladder, she pulled out the flashlight from the kitchen and switched it on, shining it on the attic ceiling and sweeping it about a few times before poking her head above floor-level. She took another step up the ladder, turning swiftly with the flashlight as she moved it around her as though expecting an ambush. But the feeling of being watched was not there.

Scrambling up the remaining steps, she entered the attic and hurried to the light switch on the nearest wall, glad that there were no obstacles in her way to trip over and that no spiders had arranged their webs along the narrow path. The overhead lights flickered once before burning brightly, their white light raining down upon the large room and banishing shadows to the rafters.

At the same time the lights blinked on, something fell, delicate yet unbroken; and then there came a scrabbling sound, heavier and frenetic from the same location. Squirrels? A bird? Rats? But Maria had come up to check that there was no storm damage to the roof, hadn't she?

Mineko did not turn her flashlight off, keeping her eyes on the spot where she thought the sounds had originated. She hadn't seen anything fall, nor did she see any movement now. Her gaze momentarily dropped to the floor, giving the hole a wide birth as she skirted around it.

"Hello?" She called quietly, the ceiling amplifying the volume and carrying her message farther than her voice would travel on its own.

No answer. So it was an animal. Or animals. She sent up a silent prayer that it was not a family of rodents and crept on, listening as the floor creaked annoyingly under her feet.

Boxes were stacked neatly on either side, barring her from checking every nook and cranny and impeding a full view around the room, while bags of old clothes and fabrics and furniture too cumbersome or oddly shaped to be packaged leaned precariously against the roof, threatening to catch an ankle or bruise a hip if she stepped out of place, or topple at the slightest brush of her arm.

The going was slow, but when she made it to the far side of the attic, she heard the sound of feet again, not far, but moving away, towards a wall. She attempted to follow faster, treading lightly and turning a corner to find an ugly lamp shade directly in her path. The trespasser had gone silent again, no doubt tracking her movements so that it might avoid her.

Certain she was not dealing with a bird, she pressed her lips together and set the lamp shade on top of a box sporting a fine layer of dust, thinking about the possibilities. Whatever it was would be difficult to catch if it managed to squeeze between the intersection of the floor and roof, behind the boxes and antiques. On the other hand, it she could shepherd it towards a corner, where there was less room to maneuver and a relatively straight route to follow around the attic's perimeter, she might be able to catch it by surprise. Or at least glimpse the animal that had decided to make a home in the attic.

Wishing she had grabbed her gardening gloves—or even a pair of oven mitts—she moved towards the wall and heard the echoing squeak of wood. It might have been her imagination, but she thought she saw a couple of boxes shift as something scurried behind them, out of sight. Not a rat…not a squirrel, either. Something bigger. Her steps slowed, a little more cautious. She came to a full stop and sneezed. The animal carried on, nudging boxes as it moved closer to the corner of the attic.

A set of plastic-wrapped suits hanging on a rack swayed and Mineko seized the opportunity, almost tripping as she hurried across the cluttered space, gripping her flashlight tightly in her hand, ready to play offense or defense. She banged her knee against a cardboard box, and the heavy contents rattled inside. As if the impact had alerted her prey to her plan, the patter of feet ceased, and suddenly the only noise she could identify was her own slightly labored breathing.

It was fight or flight.

The animal burst out from behind two stacks of boxes in front of her, the cardboard towers swaying precariously. Startled out of the suspense, Mineko released a gasp and jumped, taking a half-step back.

The four-legged creature arched its spine like a black, foul-tempered cat, although there was no accompanying hiss or growl. Wide green eyes stared up at her, then grew closer to eye-level as its legs lengthened and became spindly, limbs and body rippling, its torso emaciating…ultimately looked down on her as its neck elongated, a round head extending towards her in the manner of an angry goose.

The quick breath that rushed into her lungs seconds before never left, stuck in her throat. She shrunk back instinctively as its head moved towards her, hypnotized by the green orbs staring back. Green like a soot sprite's. But this was no sprite. The nearly featureless face came close enough that it almost bumped against her forehead; she was certain she would have felt its breath had it a nose or a mouth.

"Y-yo-you can't be here," she heard herself whisper after a long staring match. The creature's head shrunk back towards its shoulders at the sound of her voice, like a tortoise trying to retreat into its shell, its height advantage nothing but bluster. Unsure how to read the body language of something so alien, Mineko dropped the flashlight and put her hands in front of her face, palms facing outwards in a posture that was as instinctive as it was helpless.

She coughed. "Leave. Please." She peeked between her fingers and saw the body ripple once more, a puff of black dust tainting the air as it shrunk until it stood a little taller than a fawn on bamboo-thick legs, awkward and ungainly in its strange homage to nature. Its long neck curved like a snake, and Mineko took a step back, keeping her eyes on it as she slowly retreated towards the window.

"The window." She pointed, unable to tell if it understood her words or gestures. If the black creature could change shape so easily, could it crawl out the window? Could it fashion wings for itself and fly away? Her heart leapt when it started forwards, marching at a frighteningly determined pace. She could not move faster while keeping her eyes on the creature and the winding path behind her. When it reached her she thought it would pass by, slink around her legs like a cat and continue on to the shuttered glass; but it stayed close. Too close for comfort. With every step forward it risked her knee knocking it in the chest. Yet it never happened, never allowed them to touch, but always moved too close.

Mineko coughed again and reached for the lock on the window, her pulse urging her to hurry. "You cannot stay here. This is not your home." She had to turn her back on the creature to fight the lock, her fingers aching from the strain. It finally relented and she grabbed the frame and heaved with all her strength, the window shrieking in protest as it rose several inches. She worked open the switches on the shutters and pushed one side open. "Please don't come back."

Fragments of sunlight filtered through the surrounding woods like light passing through fractured glass, a small cluster of golden spots appearing across the attic wall as Mineko stepped aside for the creature. A patch of sun dappled one black shoulder and the joint exploded in a burst of dark globs and smoke.

Mineko yelped, jerking back from the creature as it reeled away from the sunlight, knocking into a stack of tied magazines and newspapers. The leg fragments that had violently separated from the rest of the body hovered in the air for a second before going into a frenzy, swivelling this way and that, more than a dozen pairs of green eyes blinking open in disorientation. The creature stumbled over the fallen stacks of paper, body convulsing as its proportions shifted to accommodate for the loss of a limb.

"Wait!" She hissed as it clumsily twisted away from the window, scrabbling for the perimeter wall with a trail of soot sprites trailing in its wake. One more contortion of the body and it pressed between the wall and a covered mirror, escaping into the shadows without of sound.