Stronger Than Fire

By: Aviantei

Chapter Three

Comparing the flexibility on the Dominus Liminis to the main base was almost unfair, like the sheer size dictated that main HQ was deserving of more awe, forget every little thing that was impressive about the high functionality of the airship, which Renzo was pretty sure was far past any current world technology. There were probably folks from the American branch that would try to boast about that latter, but Renzo hadn't really met or tried to interact with any of them. The entire trip back from Japan, he hadn't been given any real summon other than the initial conference with the members of the Eastern Laboratory, and had had no real orders other than that.

It had been the perfect slot of time to escape without any fuss, just like Mephisto had said. Now, on the ground and in the heart of the enemy, getting to any other place in the world seemed like some joke of a dream.

Renzo clutched onto his cellphone, hoping to get some sort of support. It was his Illuminati phone that rang, the cheerful chime of its text tone making him tense up.

While unknown, the number wasn't blocked this time. Even if it had been, Renzo had the obligation to answer when summoned anyway. Before taking any action, he saved the number to his contacts, hoping that this wasn't a dummy number. Once he confirmed that, he would memorize the contact, eliminating the chance of anything critical escaping if his phone managed to make it to enemy hands.

[Hey, we've landed for at least half a day. You have to be settled by now, right? I think it's time that we put you to work, Kid. Just how well do you think you have the layout memorized, huh?]

That sort of message could have only come from Emília. Renzo was certain of that. Given that she hadn't sent any other clues, it probably meant that she meant for him to come to the Intelligence Division, given that was supposedly her own workplace. He had at least a general layout in mind of the place, so while he may not be able to find her personal workspace in just one shot, Renzo was pretty sure that he could at least make it to the department on his own.

His ringtone set off again, this time a longer tone—a pop song he knew that Izumo-chan liked—signaling a phone call. After the two days of relative non-contact on the Dominus Liminis, he seemed to be suddenly popular with the Illuminati.

"Hello," he said, once again not recognizing the number. It was better to just play the situation safe then, speaking with as much politeness as possible. "Can I ask who's calling?"

"Shima," the caller answered, and Renzo stiffened far too easily. It was one thing to be in Lucifer's presence and hear him interact with others. It was another to have him speak to you directly, even if it was over the phone. "Greetings. I trust that you're settling well?"

"Yeah, I'm doing just fine." His room was barren, a blank dormitory cut and pasted from a blueprint. It would take a lot for it to start feeling like home, and Renzo wasn't yet sure if it would be worth the effort. For suitable cover, certainly, but just how deep was we willing to let this charade run? Maybe it would have been better if Mephisto hadn't given him the option to run…

"I'm calling to inform you of a simple matter." With his voice focused on Renzo's ear, it was easy to hear the wheeze of illness in the demon's voice. Lucifer almost seemed fragile. "After hearing further appeal, I have approved Emília's request to return you to work with the Intelligence Department. Please keep up the good work, Shima."

It felt like a delusion and a daydream mixed into one; somehow the result was for the two to become reality. The idea made Renzo feel a bit lightheaded, but he made himself stand up anyway. "Yes, Commander. I'll do my best…"

The hesitance in his tone felt like nothing less than a fatal blow.

"Yes… I'll let you return to work, Shima."

And just like that the leader of the Illuminati hung up, like it was the simplest thing in the world. Renzo paused for a minute, then put his phone aside so he could put his boots back on. Afterwards, he made sure that he had any important belongings on him—his k'rik, both his first and second phones—and tried to match his assumed layout of the base with where he was.

He shut the lights off on the way out of the room.

Just who was supposed to be the enemy again?

How deep was he really willing to go with this whole thing, anyway?

Finding Emília's office was actually the easiest part, given that she had the biggest one. Renzo wasn't quite sure if he could call the place messy or organized. Sure there were papers everywhere, and one entire wall was reserved for pin ups of what looked like everything from papers to photos to restaurant menus. But there weren't exactly any clusters that seemed to have been tossed aside at random. At the very least, the place looked occupied.

Perched on armchair next to a coffee table, Emília leaned forward, tossing up a smile and a small wave. "Not too bad, Kid. Your time's impressive for someone who just got here, and that's saying something for me." That was easy enough to believe.

"But not good enough," Renzo admitted. He had managed to get lost at least a few times on the way, and had taken embarrassingly longer to get back on track. Once he was dismissed for the day, Renzo planned to take some time to actually get a proper feel of the place. "It's not very good if I can't make it to my own place of work without issue, is it?"

Emília shrugged, waving her hand at another chair around the table. "That sort of thing I'm sure you can figure out on your own, Kid," she said. Renzo took the invitation to sit down, and Emília leaned forward, elbows resting on her knees. "So, want to tell me what you managed to find out in two days' time?"

Renzo wasn't surprised at all by the comment. She had challenged him to find information in the first place, so of course she would want to know the results. He hadn't gone so far as to memorize every last bit of her file, but all the major details he could recall easily. "Emília Nussbaum is the head of the Illuminati's Intelligence Division, a position earned only after a few years in the organization. You were seventeen at the time. Pretty impressive."

Emília didn't even bother to hide her satisfaction. She didn't give any additional comments, but that was almost like a taunt in itself.

Is that really all you've got?

"I probably shouldn't pry too much, but you're currently nineteen. Your birthday is November sixteenth… I managed to find your measurements, too, but I think I'll keep those my little secret for now…" She didn't react to the bait at all. It was different than Izumo's tsundere and Moriyama's sheer unawareness. "But about your promotion. You started pretty low and performed a series of successful infiltrations into several True Cross facilities. Half of the information we have on them is thanks to your reconnaissance, directly or indirectly. Still, despite your expertise in the field, you were appointed to be the department head by Lucifer himself. The former head hadn't made nearly as much headway and proceeded to step down…"

"All of which can be found by easily accessing the Illuminati's data bases," Emília concluded. "While there's quantity, I'd call it a pretty dry first dive, wouldn't you, Kid?" She leaned over her chair's armrest, digging into a bag. Once she sat back up, she had something in her hands, which was immediately tossed Renzo's way. "Let's not have you wasting paper on meaningless investigations, okay?"

The object Renzo caught was a tablet. It was pretty small, just the right size to fit inside his jacket. He stopped just short of turning it on, knowing that could wait until later.

"Your last name is a fake."

Emília's mouth stopped short, her half formed word not even making a proper sound. Renzo kept hold of his good momentum, continuing forward before he got steamrolled again.

"It's not too much, considering that I couldn't find your real last name," he admitted. "But there's no Emília Nussbaum outside of the Illuminati, am I right? Hehe, I managed to get someone pretty special as my new boss, huh?"

Her eyes had widened for a second—the expression was actually pretty cute on her features—but Emília really was a cool individual. No wonder she had successfully made so many infiltrations without getting caught. Still, she managed to look superior all over again, even though Renzo was technically the one who had scored the upper hand this time around.

"I wouldn't say the name does anything special for me," Emília said, waving it off. Maybe it was a stupid hope, but Renzo wanted to give his discovery more merit than that. "I don't really have a proper family name, so I just picked one out. I think it sounds pretty cool, don't you?"

Renzo couldn't resist taking a jab. "Just what nationality is that supposed to be anyway?"

"If you're doubting my authenticity, I'm sure I can speak the language just fine." Emília narrowed her eyes, as if waiting for a challenge. Renzo didn't issue one. "But in any event, I'm here now, and so are you. So let's make the best of it, okay?"

Renzo relaxed back into his seat. It seemed the Illuminati didn't spare any expense when it came to their Intelligence Division—or maybe it was Emília that did the splurging. "So then I take it I did enough to pass your little hazing test?" he asked, sounding more hopeful than he should have. It wasn't like she would kick him out—she had gone through all the effort to convince Lucifer to have him transferred back. Still, this whole situation hadn't been meaningless.

Emília didn't answer, though. Looking back to her, Renzo saw her typing on her own tablet. He quirked an eyebrow, but she didn't respond to the gesture, her answer coming without making eye contact. "I'm getting you a desk moved in here," she said. This will be a lot easier if I don't have to go back and forth to your own cubicle all the time. What a pain in the ass."

Renzo couldn't help but crack a smile. "Isn't that favoritism, Boss?"

"Emília is fine." She didn't deny the accusation, though. "Now let's start by showing you how to cover up a data trail that even I can't find…"

Suguro Ryuji had probably clenched his fists so hard that the knuckles had turned white by now. He wasn't sure for certain. Things had moved on in their own way—school had resumed, exorcist cram school classes had picked back up after a rather poor joke on Rin's part—but Ryuji really hadn't.

No, it's my fault.

That didn't make it feel any less like Ryuji was the one to blame. Even though Kinzo and Juzo had explained everything, Shima just running off felt like something someone had to take the blame for. And if there was anyone that had the biggest unwanted influence over Shima's life, Ryuji was the one in prime condition for that position.

So even though he should have been studying, Ryuji sat on his bed, leaning against the wall with his eyes shut, trying to think of something he could do to make things better.

"Don't be so hard on yourself."

That was Konekomaru for you. Ryuji finally opened his eyes and even forced his hands to relax. The young Miwa head was standing by, two steaming mugs almost covered up by too-long sweater sleeves. Ryuji reached out, taking one of the mugs and drinking from it without checking the contents first. It was hot, but it was easy to ignore the burn on his tongue in favor of the flavor. The tea was perfectly balanced with what little sugar he liked to have.

That really was Konekomaru for you.

The smaller boy sat down, and Ryuji scooted over to make room. Absently, Ryuji stared at the bookshelf that separated his chunk of the room from Shima's. They were quiet for a few moments, the Suguro heir lost in thought.

"I'm serious," Konekomaru repeated. "I know you, Bon. Even though there's nothing to really be at fault for, you're taking it on yourself anyway. But everything's going to be alright. I'm sure that Shima knows what he's doing."

There was plenty to take the blame for. He was supposed to be the kaname, the support. And while it was logical to not let any information leak when you were trying to be a spy, Shima should have at least confided in him. He should have. Why didn't he just say something? They could have worked through things together…

"He's an idiot," Ryuji said, even though that much was obvious.

Konekomaru laughed, though it was a short, breathy, and definitely weak sound. "Yeah, he is. But, you remember when we were kids, right? How he would always come up with stories to get us out of trouble."

At that, it was Ryuji's turn to snort. "Yeah, and they worked on everyone except Mom." They had all gotten smacked over the head on more than one occasion, and it had never been easily, either. Still, Ryuji couldn't say it was a bad memory… The boys laughed a bit more, quiet. "Why is he…such an idiot?"

"I don't know," Konekomaru said, all mirth gone from his voice. "But I don't think he can help it. That's how he's always been, right?" The boy tried to form a smile, and his lips made it that far. The only thing that ruined it were the tears.

Ryuji reached forward, plucking the glasses of Konekomaru's face. "If you cry while you're still wearing these, you'll get them all dirty…"

Even with two people inside of it, the room still felt empty.

At seven years old, Renzo had already figured it out. Fibbing was something that the other kids did: to a teacher when they hurt another kid on the playground, his siblings when they stole a snack from the kitchen. It was easily done, and easily seen through. And it wasn't like Renzo was a bad kid, but there were things he would do that he knew would get him in trouble, and that meant fibbing was necessary to get out of it. But to get out of it, you had to be really, really, good.

He didn't yet understand the difference between a "fib" and a "lie."

All he really knew was that he didn't get caught.

Other kids noticed, but they didn't really get why. It was only Konekomaru and Bon that had some vague idea, and that was because usually if they got in trouble, it was together. And it was Renzo that was the spokesperson in those occasions, getting everyone out of trouble.

Always…

Always?

He had been proud to help them out. When had he stopped caring about that? When had he just wanted to run away? When had he gotten sick of everything? When had he decided that hating everything was the only answer?

When did you lose all sense of flexibility?

It was no good. He couldn't do it. Not anymore. He wanted to think he could change. Sometimes, he did change. But, really, he was stuck in a rut.

"Renzo!"

When I was a kid, huh…

"Thank you all for trusting me!"

I guess I didn't think about much at all, did I? I wonder how I ended up thinking too much…

Even unconscious, Izumo was really light in his arms.

Renzo opened his eyes, surprised at how slow he managed it. It hadn't been like this up to the Dominus Liminis. Sleeping had been easy. Somehow, he had managed to be relaxed. He had managed to shut off every part of his brain and move on, only turning it back on when it was time to wake up.

Renzo forced himself to sit, then stand. He didn't feel like sleeping anytime soon. Besides, a few hours would be enough to keep him going. When he had been trying to do extra research on the True Cross and Izumo at the academy, he had pulled plenty of all-nighters. He knew his own limits.

He staggered to his room's connected bathroom, catching his balance on the edge of the sink. He reached out a hand, turning on the lights around the mirror, then turned on the sink. Cold water shot straight towards the drain, and Renzo gathered some in his hands, splashing it towards his face and drenching his hair.

He didn't raise his eyes to meet his reflection's.

No one really knew what the causes of dreams were. Some theorized that they were memories organizing themselves, or the desires of the subconscious. If you looked at them that way, then that meant that nightmares could be the desire to punish oneself.

Deep twisted dark things…they all came from humankind. Nothing else was certain, because these sorts of things came from the human heart. That was what people should have been afraid of. All of the sorts of terrible things in the world came directly from other people.

Not just other people.

The worst things came from the self. Because it was the self that knew almost everything that one could be afraid of. It understood everything. It was this understanding that led to the worst possible outcomes.

In that case, who needed dreams anyway?

Alright, all nice and caught up with fanfiction updates, yep! Now to try and keep up the schedule as the end of the year updates come crashing down on us!

Much thanks to Amulet Misty for her favorite and reviews on the other two chapters. You are wonderful and supportive, Dina, and you rock my world, kay? I'll see you hanging around SOSS!

That being said, I'm glad that Emília and Renzo's adventures seem to be interesting so far. They're a blast to write at any rate. Can't wait until they start to get up to more shenanigans!

The next faster is, once again, slated to come out in two weeks. Hopefully I'll see ya'll then, so please look forward to it!

[POST] 120215