Kaede Kanna

They had found two things from that framed photo. Well, three things really. The name they found scrawled on the back of the photo.

They had also found two other images, nestled behind the first.

"Who is this chick?" Motohama shuffled between the pictures. They were of identical dimension, with three people standing in similar posture and format. Two, the mother and father, remained the same throughout, standing rigidly behind a rosewood seat, hands clasped to a young girl's shoulders.

Black to blue, brown to blonde, the girl alone changed picture to picture.

"This girl's a damn chameleon." He held the pictures up, images overlaid, to the light. There was so little discrepancy between the scenes that they appeared to be nearly a solid whole. Nearly flawlessly superimposed. "Or a robot."

"Nah dude, it's in fashion." Matsuda waved him off, slowly raising himself up onto his elbows. "Fashion, you know man. Changes every day. Sometimes you just gotta keep up."

Motohama squinted at the picture. "Yeah, I can see it. See," He raised one up and flicked it with a fingernail. "Straight, cropped hair here," and then waved one in the other hand. "Braided, curly hair here."

"Stylish." Kiba said drily.

"Be fair - they worked hard to get in, you know?" Motohama pointed out. "I asked around, and tons of the girls haven't even dated before. I bet they spent all their time studying instead. She deserves to feel pretty."

"You say that like you didn't work hard, Motohama-kun." Kiba raised a brow.

"Of course not." Issei snorted, folding his arms and sneering at the other two. They sneered back. "These guys cheated to get in."

Kiba had the audacity to look simultaneously shocked and disappointed at this.

Motohama glared at Issei. "That's a massive exaggeration." He crossed his arms, squatting down. "I worked as hard as anyone else did."

"When?" Kiba stared at him like it would set the boy on fire.

Motohama finally looked a little ashamed. "The night before."

"You're incorrigible." Matsuda muttered, crouching and glaring at a sheepish Motohama.

"Don't worry." Motohama proudly slapped his chest. "Even though I'm like this, Hana-sensei still says that I'm 'the kinda guy that can learn something after hearing it seven times', you know?"

"That's not a virtue no matter what grade you're in, let alone a highschooler." Issei shook his head sadly. "How the fuck did you get into Kuoh at all?"

"I cheated."

"So you cheated after all."

"I cheated too." Matsuda said proudly. "I copied off this moron with glasses. I thought he was smart 'cause he kept pushing them up."

The boys chortled and high-fived.

"What a mistake." Kiba observed sadly. "And yet, somehow you lucked out."

"Luck is a virtue." He assured Kiba. "God willed this."

Kiba rolled his eyes so hard his eyes went blank. In the darkness of the house, it was bizarrely disturbing.

"Stop that." Issei demanded. "You look like Sadako."

Kiba's eyes reasserted themselves. "I have blonde hair!" He protested.

"Why is that his argument?" Motohama whispered, leaned over to Matsuda. Matsuda shrugged, picking at a hangnail.

Issei, however, looked startled. Whirling around, he grabbed at the picture of the girl, the one with blonde hair, and squinted at it. "Oi, Matsuda." He called absently. "You take pictures of the cutest girl in every year, right?"

"Weekly." Matsuda confirmed. Issei looked up, an odd look dancing in his eyes. Blonde hair, he muttered under his breath, spreading the images out.

"What if these weren't taken over months at all?" Issei questioned, tracing a cut barely visible on the girls cheek. Peering at one of the other images, the same cut made itself visible, slightly scabbed. Issei snapped his fingers, tapping the image. "These were taken over a couple of days, man!" Issei said triumphantly. "Yo Matsuda, when did a ton of girls go blonde?"

Matsuda's brows furrowed a bit. "Dude." He said slowly. "They started going blonde as soon as Prince-kun here showed up."

"Yeah I know." Issei said irritably. "But I mean, like, a ton."

Matsuda worried at his lip a little. "Shit man," he said thoughtfully. "Like, last week."

Issei blinked a bit. "Huh." He looked back down at the picture and gave it the gimlet eye. The girl in the image continued to stare impassively back, alternatively dark and light eyes glaring back.

Issei shrugged, sliding the pictures out from the glass, and tossed the frame over his shoulder, suppressing a wince as it loudly smashed behind him. "Well, that was a wash. So much for that idea." He turned to Kiba, who had frozen with his arm outstretched to the shattered frame and a protest on his lips. "What now?"

Kiba slowly turned to him, a lost look in his eyes. "Why."

Issei shrugged, unabashed, still holding the pictures. "It was too quiet in here."

Quiet Kiba slowly mouthed, before giving up. "Alright, I guess. Give me the pictures." Taking them into his hands, he flipped through them slowly with an unnerving focus in his eyes, before quickly pocketing them. "Alright."

"Alright?" Motohama raised an eyebrow.

"That's it." Kiba confirmed. "There's nothing more to be done here, I'm afraid. Whatever it is Miss Aika wanted, we've accomplished. The home is empty, and whatever grudge this place held is long dissipated." He gestured limply to the hallway behind him. "I cleared what lingered. Nothing more is to be done here."

Motohama slowly drew a copy of the King James Bible and a copper cross from under his shirt. "You sure?"

Kiba looked visibly uncomfortable, visibly wincing. "Er, I don't think you quite understand the scale we're talking abou-would you mind terribly putting that cross away?"

Motohama slowly stowed it away, and Kiba breathed a sigh of relief, missing the calculative expressions that crossed Issei and Matsuda's faces as they watched him. He caught the tail end of the look they exchanged, shooting them an odd look they ignored.

"Alright." Matsuda grunted, pushing off the wall and stretching out. "Thank god that's over."

The bastardization of language reared its ugly head on rare occasion in Kuoh; the residents tended to be fairly good about that sort of thing. Exceptions existed here, however, as they were wont to do. The directions given were to Dupark, a nickname so contextually incestuous it needed three seperate boards to point to it.

In the '50's, the Inagawa-kai funded a public works project rather infamously known as the Deguchi Dumping Grounds, a public park so wantonly infested by street toughs that the entire location was written off as a tragic dumpster fire, made worse by the sharp downturn in police patrol rumored to come directly from one of the wealthy patrons of the city. The infamous death of Doshū Inoue and the eclectically bloody scavenger hunt for the 2.4 million yen he'd embezzled from the clan before his execution put De-Do park at the top of everyone's Do-Not-Visit list. Later, the name was simply left at Du-Du Park, as the stray animal population saw it shifted from public park to public wastebin. At last, the bastardized form of that goddamn shithole found itself simply shortened to dupark, making finding the place a matter so culturally offensive that the attempt was often seen as a way of doing away with unwanted family members.

Thus, when Freed Sellzen finally emerged from beneath it's dark canopy, bloody and quiet like those battlefield crows, the neighbors simply sighed and cursed the youth, the elderly, the politicians and the poor alike for putting them in these trying circumstances while pointedly avoiding the problem. Perhaps they might have noticed that none of the blood belonged to the man himself, but then that would've involved confrontation, and that was simply not done.

Freed, on the other hand, was in a simply delightful mood as he made his way across the street. He skipped his way past a mother carefully covering her child's ears, unlatching a gate smoothly and rapping his knuckles sharply on the doorway to the Kanna Household.

Yuuto Kiba opened the door with a peculiar gaze and made to shut it just as promptly upon noticing what awaited him on the other side, but Freed quickly wedged his foot between the jamb.

"Truce, truce!" He lightly sang as Kiba repeatedly slammed the door on his foot. "I call parlay!"

"No." Kiba said shortly, struggling to hold the door shut. But to his immense discomfort, it continued to slide backwards, the priests grinning face peeking out from between the door and jamb, forcing himself further and further in with that same sick grin on his face.

"We're on the same side, I'm telling you!" Freed continued to insist while forcing himself inside. "I've no interest in harming anyone!" A statement profoundly unconvincing when made with a weapon in hand. The blonde man began slamming his knee into the middle of the thick wood, and such was his prodigious strength that even the thick frame began to buckle, cracks spiderwebbing across the window placed at the top. Kiba cursed and stepped back, letting go entirely and watching Freed lurge forwards as the resistance vanished. Bringing his knee up, he let Freed run right into it, straightening into a violent kick he sunk deep into the priests gut. Freed retched and gasped for breath, falling to his knees and breathing shallowly. Kiba loomed heavily over the man.

It seemed that he had the upper hand, but this wasn't the first time he'd put the violent priest on the back foot, and he knew that it was at these times that Freed was at his most dangerous. Indeed, a careful eye spotted the gleam of steel as Freed drew a serrated blade across his chest, the flat concealed behind his forearm. Had he stepped a foot closer, the blade would've sunk itself into his chest. The wet grin Freed offered spoke volumes, so when those yellow eyes refocused on the boys behind Kiba's back, he had no qualms stepping back to cover them.

"You've been busy." Freed rasped, stumbling to his feet, and sketching a lazy bow. "Why, if it isn't my good friend, Homura-san."

"Hyoudou." Issei reflexively corrected. Kiba bit back a curse as Freed's grin widened.

"Hyoudou-san, then." He purred. "My pleasure to make the acquaintance of yourself and your friends."

Matsuda tossed up a limp wave. "Hey."

Freed finally straightened with a grunt, revealing tattered vestments and a disturbingly large shock collar gracing his throat. "Say," he rolled his head, popping his neck loudly. "You wouldn't happen to know where a Miz Kanna is, would you now?"

Kiba's brow furrowed. "Why?"

Freed chuckled, stepping around the shoes loosely scattered about the front step, stepping into the home in vibrantly purple socks. "Suspicions are warranted, certainly, but not right now." He straightened his coat, almost absently. "I'm here to do my proper job incidentally."

Kiba raised a brow. "Priest?"

"Exorcist." A grin flashed it's way across Freed's face. "More than one kind of evil to cleanse. And I need to make a good impression."

Kiba felt the beginnings of worry curdle in his gut, as Freed began mockingly tapping his chin with a sun-starved finger. "Ah!" He cried. "You wouldn't know about that, would you?"

He hunched forwards and leaned in, despite being a full 3 yards away. "You see, we got a big-shot visiting." He stage-whispered conspiratorially. "Very big deal, very hush-hush. We need to make this look good. Truce, you see? I'm all proper-like for the moment. Tell your bitchy master that, I did like the last coat she dusted." He dusted off his hands and winked at Kiba outrageously. Kiba recoiled as the man began inspecting the premises with open interest. "Be humble and polite my friend," Freed purred, tracing the stains left by a generation's good living. "We are, all of us, in partibus infidelium, and God save any who step out of line. I think it's a sentiment we can all appreciate." He made the sign of the cross on his chest, and Kiba felt the pain like a physical impact.

He was hopelessly confused by this, but Issei had larger concerns.

"Aren't you a bad guy though?" Issei asked, intrigued. "I didn't think you were the sort of guy to play nice."

Freed flapped a hand dismissively. "Believing in a villain is so passé. We're all in it for ourselves."

"So you don't kill people you dislike?" Kiba cut in irritably.

Freed's eyes widened. "Good heavens no! I'd never." He clicked his back teeth slyly. "We have a city for that, you know. 'Las Caras' down in Cali-for-nay-ay. We hang the sinners there. It's a good time. You should visit, we'd roll out the red carpet an' everything."

"There hasn't been a devil in California since Prohibition." Kiba grunted sourly. He eyed the priest, who whistled innocently. "I think we both know why."

"Who said anything about devils?" Freed grinned. "Plenty of priests to go around. No shortage of sinners."

Kiba felt sick, but the implications sort of flew over the heads of the peanut gallery. Probably for the best, Kiba soothed himself, as the boys shot their hands up.

"Who the hell would a priest like you call a sinner?" Matsuda asked, morbidly fascinated.

Freed hummed, bending over and pulling out some spare indoor shoes for guests. He seemed oddly focused on manners, Issei noted absently. He'd even wiped his shoes on the front mat.

"An angel...?" He said absently, tilting his head from side to side. "Something like that?"

"So you're a contrarian." Motohama said drily, glasses flashing. He practiced, Issei knew, for the rare occasion he was allowed to be smug. It was a decent effect, he admitted.

Freed's lips thinned, and he tilted his hand side-to-side, looking thoughtful. "Not really. I've seen one."

Issei felt his brows shoot up into his scalp, but Freed acted like this was something obvious. Perhaps it was, Issei mused, eyes darting to the left and peeking at the devil to his left, staring at the priest with narrowed eyes.

"It's the reason I left the church you know?" Freed mused, cracking his knuckles slowly. "If there's a sinner in this world, it's surely them. It's unfair you know? They kill people, same as you or I. But they lack it, that something that defines us." He squinted a bit. "They don't have malice, you know? It's a cop-out, and one they can't even help. It's infuriating. A man can't even hate a fucking devil in peace in that kind of atmosphere, you know?"

Kiba had clearly thought about it and couldn't really see how this was a bad thing, replying with a contentious snort. But Issei thought that he could kind of see it. It wasn't a good reason or anything, but he could see what Freed was driving at.

"They don't kill petty reasons, right?" Issei said carefully. "Every death is justified. That's the 'cop-out'."

Freed chuckled, pleased, and adjusted his shock collar. "Lemme tell you something good. There's more than one kind of malice in this world, you know? If you hear a shake in the floor and a roar like a demon, if the world grows small and all you see is white, then run. That bastard won't be far behind. He's the kind of guy who could seize a title like 'Protagonist' you know? He's here, in this very town, and he's looking for something. I don't know what it is, but he'll kill you if you get in his way. He's still a baby for the moment, but he'll certainly grow into a terrible demon king someday."

Kiba made a difficult face. "Saying something like that to someone in a Gremory peerage..."

Freed chortled. "Oh, come off it. Sirzechs is different, you know that. That guy, they say he was born stronger than anyone since Sirzechs himself. So, really, you should be safe as long as you can heel." Freed leered. "Necessitas non habet legem, eh? Who could hate a man like that?"

"I can." Kiba replied curtly.

"Regardless." Freed continued smoothly, breaking down into quiet snickers between sentences every time he looked at Kiba's face. "Needs must, and we all have a role to play in the coming days. Even I'll do a job once paid. I'm guessing you killed all the little shitters cluttering the place up, considering that we've been standing here for ten minutes and nothing tried to set us on fire. But there's more to my work than just that. So step aside."

Kiba stepped aside quietly, and the boys, startled, quickly made room as the priest smoothly moved between them, a cylindrical tube dancing and spinning between his fingers, pulled from somewhere in his voluminous white coat.

"One more thing." Kiba asked quietly. "Who hired you."

The priest paused on the threshold, cloth gently rippling around him.

"Some girl." He snapped his fingers, a smirk on his lips. "Aiiiiiika. That was her name, maybe. Ciao darlings."

And then he was gone, striding powerfully deep into the dark home.

Kiba breathed out slowly, eyes narrowed. The boys, on the other hand, were suitably impressed.

"Holy shit, is this a power play?" Matsuda's eyes widened to dinner plates. "Is Aika making a power play?"

"Yo, we're goons." Issei said, awed. "That's so cool."

"I feel a little degraded." Motohama admitted. "I mean, we're taking this for minimal pay, right? I feel devalued man. It hurts my feelings a little."

"We'll ask for hazard pay." Issei soothed. He cheered up at that.