"Pardon."
A soft voice echoed as a door gently swung open into a warm living room. It was nighttime beyond the open door, streetlight shining through until the door swung shut. A chill wind blew through, to two people seated around a hardwood table; they blinked and looked up, shivering slightly. The overhead lamp cast their features in harsh shadow, but their new guest seemed to have no trouble making them out, smiling and waving politely. Recognition crossed neither face, though wary caution began to creep up as before them, their new guest gently stamped his feet on the welcome mat and unzipped his jacket, seeming quite at home as he hung it up on the coat hook. The two at the table seemed quite lost for words at this point, the elder recovering far more quickly, slowly rose to his feet.
"Hello there, friend." An elderly man coughed slightly, rubbing his gloved hands together as he turned to the young woman beside him. "Am I interrupting something?"
The young woman seated beside him shook her head mutely.
The man at the door blinked, sliding his outdoor shoes off. "Ah, I apologize." He smiled easily. "I'm afraid not, I'm here on some business If you two would oblige me."
The elderly man frowned, hand drifting down to his waist. "Well then - I'd love to offer you a place at the table, but I'm afraid this is no more my home than yours."
"He can come in." The woman muttered quietly, lowering her head.
The guest bowed his head gratefully, stepping further into the room, though never so close that the overhead lamp illuminated his features. "It's an odd time of night, isn't it." He spoke vaguely, stripping his gloves off and waving them. "For men to be wandering into homes like you and I. Unpleasant even. Impolite at best. With the moon so high, I can hardly be expected to find a welcoming parlor, but alas." He flashed the old man a charming smile. "We must all play the cards we are dealt. I'm glad this kind young woman has the heart to put up with us."
"Perhaps." The old man spoke cautiously, holding his arm up before the young lady, warning her to keep seated and still. "Perhaps it is, for those idle and unwanted, to find a place in this world. I have never felt the like; my good nature speaks for itself.."
"Funny." The man at the door grinned slightly, before switching to his mother tongue. "Though you must forgive my rudeness Father."
The old man stiffened further, though his eyes grew misty. "Your grasp of english is impeccable." He spoke stiffly. "What's a cultured young man like you doing wandering about this time of night?" The young woman shivered a little, eyes hidden behind a protective hand. The good Father's wary set eased a bit. He cleared his throat, glancing once down before looking back up. "Young man, this is a Christian household. Manners be willing, would you like to dine with us? I would speak to this young lady, but I promise my protection to the two of you. There is word of all manner of ill beings in this town, and I'd see you both warned. Particularly at this time of night."
The boy smiled. "Protection is a large word to bear on your stooped shoulders sir. Ironic for someone like you Father, eh? Say, you wouldn't happen to be an exorcist, now would you?"
The old man blinked and smiled uneasily, a metallic cylinder finding itself smoothly in his grasp. "Why, I suppose? I was trained, but exorcisms aren't all that common anymore, you know?"
"That's quite alright." The boy's smile took on a savage edge. "I just needed confirmation." The world blurred, and then only one of them still blinked as the other found his eyes quite permanently opened. The other at the table, a lovely woman barely past her prime opened her mouth to scream, but found a slim finger tenderly placed at her lips.
"Please do not scream." Yuuto Kiba said gently, blonde hair glowing in the halogen lighting. "It would be very inconvenient. I've quite the route to run, so I'd prefer to avoid complications." The woman shivered a bit, for no matter how handsome a murderer may be, the threat of violence typically tends to put a damper on things. The old priest's head had yet to stop rolling after all, The meaty sound of flesh impacting the floor still echoing in all ears present. It wouldn't be strange for a victim to find themselves wholly lost for thoughts and words, fear dominating their mental processes.
Her eyes crossed slightly, focusing on the flecks of blood on the finger at her lips. "What's your name?" She whispered shyly.
There are, of course, exceptions to everything, and such things should be accounted for. Everyone has priorities of their own after all, some perhaps more deviant than others. This young lady perhaps happened to secretly hope for such excitement in her life. The elderly man seated at her table had seemed quite threatening in hindsight, no? All wrinkled and persuasive and menacing-like. Surely this handsome young man knows what he is doing, rescuing her from such a threat.
Such is life. Fickle at best, alas.
Said young man offered her the smile he reserved for warding off salesmen and slowly lifted his finger away from her, quickly wiping away any stains before offering his clean hand to her once more. "Yamada Hamtaro."
Her eyes creased gently into crescents, and she repeated the name slowly to herself. Kiba looked away gallantly as she began to shake slightly.
"It's a beautiful name." She murmured behind his back. "Were you named for the show?"
"No relation." He said distantly. "It was another Hamtaro."
He slowly turned back to the young lady, who had begun tearing up a bit, and reflexively offered her a handkerchief. Glancing away politely as she blew her nose, Kiba slowly panned across the room. It was plainly decorated barring the massive crucifix made of oak spanning an entire wall. So large was it, in fact, that it was placed at a 70 degree angle to fit the entire edifice on a single wall.
Blood now coated more than half of it, but Kiba found it quite poetic how the blood dripped off the wood. There was a metaphor there somewhere.
His head snapped back to her as she shyly offered him back the soggy cloth, and instead reached forwards and curled her fingers around it.
"For you." He said softly. She reddened slightly as he took care to keep his fingers on hers and not the soggy cloth.
"Why are you here...?" She fluttered her eyes.
I sensed an exorcist and forgot to check for other presences.
"I sensed someone in trouble." He said smoothly, face a flawless mask.
She bought it immediately, shooting the exorcist a dirty look. "I knew he wasn't a true exorcist." She muttered. Kiba paused. She was technically correct, as he was operating with a fallen cell, but the old man had been quite genuine. He smiled awkwardly and chose not to comment, changing the subject.
"How do you feel about exorcists?" He asked politely.
Her eyes flickered to his features. "They're quite kind, aren't they?" She responded immediately.
"Not at all." Kiba responded firmly, mood immediately soured, eyebrows furrowing. "They're terrible. Simply the worst. Remember that."
Then he raised his hand and snapped his fingers.
The young lady tucked her brown hair into the crook of her neck shyly. She had perhaps made a slight mistake. She had been slightly drunk, rambling at a vaguely handsome figure about feeling somewhat lonely, being a christian in a predominantly shinto district. She had allowed herself to be dragged home, where the light of her living room cast his features in strong focus.
It was a young man. An attractive young man. She flushed a little. How naughty.
"Excuse me," the young man spoke, voice slightly higher pitched without the rumble of the bar around them. "But what is your opinion on exorcists."
She blinked a bit, but shrugged. "They're alright?" She'd felt some degree of discomfort towards the organization. Their faith felt slightly overbearing to her new circumstances. The young man looked unsatisfied. "Just alright? Not the worst? Not terrible at all?"
"Not r-" She blinked, eyes slowly refocusing on the room around her. "Is that a foot?"
The boy jerked his hand up and snapped his fingers.
The young lady tucked her brown hair into the crook of her neck shyly. She had perhaps made a slight mistake. She had been slightly drunk, rambling at a vaguely handsome figure about feeling somewhat lonely, being a christian in a predominantly shinto district. She had allowed herself to be dragged home, where the light of her living room cast his features in strong focus.
It was a young man. An attractive young man. She flushed a little, following him with her eyes as he stalked about her home, quite at ease and seeming to kick at something in her kitchen. It suited him, to pace about like he owned the place.
She reddened slightly. Dirty, dirty ooh.
He walked back smoothly, blind to her lurid thoughts, seating himself at her humble table with a sigh. "Excuse me miss," the young man spoke, voice strained. "But what is your opinion on exorcists."
She frowned, mood slightly soured. "Well," she said uncomfortably. "They're somewhat nosey, aren't they?" They all seemed so very exhausting to deal with.
The boy nodded firmly. "Very true. They're also evil. Allow me to convince you..."
Kiba walked casually out of the home, to the sound of finely aged oak smashing loudly. He congratulated himself on a job well done.
"Excuse me? Sir?"
Kiba blinked politely at an old lady who looked at him with an odd expression.
"Did you just walk out of Miss Hayami's room?" She demanded. "She's a widower, you know?! Young man, I'll not have you fooling about with her!"
"I definitely did not." Kiba insisted, and snapped his fingers*.
*The snapping is more of a metaphor than anything. Mind wiping could occur via anything from interpretive dance to blood sacrifice; it's more of a state of mind than anything, like childhood or british people. Rest assured, if any of these people truly had the mind for it, it wouldn't particularly matter how, only why.
The old lady was dazed for a few seconds longer than it took him to dash down the stairs, and off to his next visitation goal. There were so many exorcists after all, but he was in his element. Unfortunately, the exorcists knew this as well, and had already begun hunting down some of his repeat customers.
They were certainly waiting for him, now that he'd attracted their attention. No chance of ambush any longer, they'd never underestimate him under the moonlight. He'd have to get clever about this.
A man stalking his way down an alley found the dumpsters more full than expected.
Thirty-seven bottles of beer on a wall fell to the ground with an almighty crash. Father Dumpty was never seen again.
A crucifix was found nailed to the wall. A man was found headless with six silver pieces in his chest.
An empty box was found in a meadow. The man it was addressed to never found it, his perp having vanished an hour ago.
The word "SINNER" was found written in red down an alley wall.
It was paint. Authorities scratched their heads and blamed the youth.
A church on a lonely hill began making urgent calls. A group of men wearing white, numbers hardly diminished, ran pell-mell for safety, their paranoia bearing fruit.
No one saw the lights in the 24-hour mart go out. A gang of bikers saw them flicker on. Their statement was taken regarding a man that seemed to have evaporated with a pound and a half of wheat-thins.
The bikers demanded free food. It was given. They provided their statements. They'd never left home that night at all. What bikes?
The investigation went nowhere.
Raynare of the Grigori continued to plot in silence, looking upon a map listing who had gone missing and where. A picture was painted.
"Something." Freed Sellzen said slowly. "Has gone wrong." He looked expectantly around the room, but only silence met his expectant gaze.
"I think."
He snorted in disappointment, standing agitatedly and pacing. He occasionally paused to point accusingly, but continued pacing rather than say anything.
One of the heads dripped a bit.
"I agree Marcus." Freed replied absently, pausing in front of the head in question, and readjusting it's placement on the table. He paused and took a step back, using his finger to measure his placement. The other seven heads looked at him accusingly.
"Well, don't look at me like that. I didn't do it." Freed snapped. Perhaps a better question would have been to question the expression on the faces. Normally, shock on dead faces tended to paint a certain picture, such as 'ambush' or 'sudden homicide'. However, Freed Sellzen seemed more puzzled by the head that wasn't terrified.
This and more, Kiba thought to himself as he lay silently under the table upon which he'd arranged the heads. It had worked shockingly well, and Freed Sellzen had shown up not ten minutes later, lumbering over to the pointless gore like a particularly inbred hyena. Perhaps he smelled the human misery, as steeped in it as he was as the rest of his filthy kind, and simply couldn't help it.
"I think you guys were murdered." Freed Sellzen slowly concluded. He suddenly brightened. "I bet whoever did it is still nearby!"
"Surprise." Kiba said mildly, rolling out from under the table and attempting to spear the priest from loin to chin. Freed promptly moved, ducking out of the way and cursing as Kiba still managed to cleave open his chin.
"You're a rude one Mr. Kiba." Freed grunted, stumbling back. Kiba stayed on his tail, following up with a vicious backhand that whistled a hair past Freed's grinning face. "I'll end your filthy kind." Kiba snarled.
The assault continued, Kiba's wild swings keeping Freed on the balls of his feet as he continued to carelessly backpedal. "To be honest, I didn't expect an ambush." Freed said, panting. "Why, I'm honored! Thrilled! Especially by a filthy fuckin' devil! It's like Taco Bell delivering to my door! A clubber that brought a spare shirt for the morning after!" He dove to the side, landing on his knees and taking off low. "Shit, thanks! I'd offer you a handsy, but you don't seem the type!" Ducking behind the sofa, he kept running as Kiba pulled out all the stops to butcher, carve, and harvest every bit of furniture between the two. Sword after sword went flying past the priest as he kept running, cotton and felt flying past, victim to Kiba's berserk rampage. Diving behind a chair, he quickly seized the legs, and hurled it at the blonde devil. Kiba casually sidestepped, bringing up Flame Sword and turning the wooden chair to ash in a flash of heat.
His eyes widened as the ash cleared, and Freed's leering face tore through it, lightsword already mid-swing. He rapidly began backpedalling, swing after swing nearly taking his face off as Freed continued to only accelerate, moving faster and faster across the room.
Then Freed tripped over a bit of wood, and went flying, all that speed sending him right past the blond boy and right into the window behind him. Glass tinkled as it fell, shattering with a crash on the ground below him.
For a moment, the only sound was the steady drip of blood from sev-eight sources.
"Well. That didn't go as intended." Freed observed, wheezing a bit. "Guess you got me on the ropes."
"Your death will be long. And painful." Kiba's eyes narrowed. "I'd say I wouldn't enjoy it, but liars lose dessert privileges."
"That seems patently ridiculous. You're already a scum-sucking piece of shit, and also a devil. Having lying banned on top of that is ridiculous. Your master is a cuck." Freed seemed quite miffed as he slowly crawled backwards on the broken glass, the sucking hiss of glass sliding into his hands and into the webbing of his fingers undercut by the slow crushing as it shattered inside his flexing wounds. Freed left a bloody trail as he slowly slid back up to the window.
"What are you doing." Kiba asked, watching with some fascination. "Are you pregaming me?"
"Well." Freed said slowly, placing his hands backwards on the window ledge and slamming down, shattering the glass entirely into his shredded palms. "It strikes me that you probably thought that the window was safe as a means of egress, because of all that broken glass."
It was true.
"Not at all." Kiba lied. "But you won't be able to run fast enough. I can catch you before you fall."
"Azazel is probably somewhere in this town." Freed said promptly.
Kiba's eyes widened. The leader of Grigori, here?! He'd assumed that Issei had been duped or lead on, not that he'd actually been onto something! That meant that he was in dang-
In front of Kiba's stunned eyes, Freed turned and dove out the window, laughing victoriously.
"He cut his tail and ran." Kiba growled. "Like a lizard. An evil lizard. A murderous one too. Also I think he propositioned me, and that offends me even more."
"Tell me more." Akeno urged eagerly, leaning forwards on her couch. "I need to know everything. Was he hot?"
"Well, he was an exorcist." Kiba said thoughtfully. "So no. He was subhuman filth."
Akeno nodded wisely, pouring him a cup of tea that he pretended he didn't see her slipping something into.
"Drink this and tell me more." She commanded, an uncomfortable focus in her gaze.
Rias swatted her, irritated. Kiba took the chance to hurl the cup out the window.
"Delicious." He said, ignoring the quiet shatter of his cup. Akeno beamed. Behind him, he felt a burning heat between his shoulder blades as little Koneko judged his actions and worth.
"Disgusting." She concluded. Kiba wilted a little; he'd be missing dessert today then.
Rias had more important things on her mind, bodily punting a sheaf of manila folders off her coffee table and slamming her fist on it. "How dare he proposition my cute little Knight." The paperwork floated down around them, briefly highlighting the room in a warm glow as the light bounced off them and the falling dust.
"Those were President Sona's papers." Koneko quietly pointed out. The room went silent and cold as everyone turned to Rias. She had the cheek to briefly look guilty before righteous fury overtook it once more. Rias sniffed. "Kiba will be pure forever."
Kiba nodded, briefly gratified before he paused. "Wait, forever?" He asked with trepidation. He had intended to probably get married to a nice girl and repopulate his orphanage at some point.
"Yes." Rias assured. "Don't worry, you're safe from any dirty hands with me."
"And me." Akeno added eagerly, her own fingers twitching in uncomfortable ways.
Kiba had a sudden flash of empathy and insight from last night.
"Not to change the topic away from this forever." He interrupted the girls and their vigorous grappling session. "But apparently Azazel is somewhere in town." He thought about that for a second. "Probably."
Rias slowly turned to look at him, a wild look in her eyes.
"Lead with that next time." Akeno said tightly, tossing her teacup through the window. The cup shattered loudly, and this time he heard Motohama's loud yelping below. That was the girl's swimming club passing through then, was it already noon?
"I will definitely lead with that next time." Kiba lied boldly.
"Forget that." Rias snapped. "Explain!"
Kiba paused to think about it.