A thin line of green stretched across the sea of steel, bounded and defended by picketed thorns of wrought iron and a legion of housewives. It was called Kuoh Park, and came to exist around the turn of the century while Japan battled the real estate crisis and the dollar went for ¥158 a pop. In the overconfident speculation and subsequent crash of the market, the parcel of land went seemingly unnoticed, until it was found a decade later and gated off as public property for the growing city. It was eight miles wide and hardly half a mile across, more landing strip than garden; it sat right in between Kuoh's bustling commercial sector and the river that bound the forever eastward expansion of the housing sector. It was both well known, yet utterly unpopulated, making it a popular place to meet if you wanted to speak to someone privately, in public.
It was exactly what Issei Hyoudou needed for what promised to potentially be an awkward conversation.
In the days to weeks following the new revelations he'd received regarding devilkind, Issei Hyoudou had lived a quiet life. This was perhaps because he discovered that he wasn't living much of a life at all. Oh, he loved his peaceful days, the petty crimes and serial harrassment, oh he loved it all. But Issei Hyoudou had lapped at the teat of knowledge, and gained a taste for such secrets.
It would be rude, though not inaccurate, to claim he was unhappy. He'd disagree of course, quite vehemently.
And yet he found himself at the park, all the same.
"Issei, have you ever seen a happy man?" Yubelluna asked, auburn hair dancing in the wind.
"Is that a trick question?" He asked cautiously, pausing while he eased himself onto the wooden bench beside her.
She sighed. "No."
"Then yeah."
"Do you know the fastest way to ruin his happiness?"
Issei fought to not roll his eyes. It was a trick question. "Not sure. Take away what makes him happy? Burn it? Eat it?"
"Show him something he can't have."
Issei shrugged. That one stung his injured ego. Her too, if the faint grimace was any indication. He really had to wonder at the efficacy of that kind of cutting wordplay. It seemed far too early somehow, for that sort of self-deprecation.
My, what a miserable pair.
Their third proper meeting was in the park. It was an empty morning, chilly and brisk, but Issei wanted to talk and he didn't think he could wait. Yubelluna didn't, incidentally; thus, Issei found himself jogging his new circuit, down the winding streets lined with blocky stores, accompanied by her silent presence to his side.
Issei felt his pulse climbing, pushing him harder than usual. His feet struck the pavement, and for once he ignored the building ache along his side. His breath came in short gasps as he pushed himself, breath steaming in the chill air.
Cresting a hill, he slowed to a stop, gasping as he fought to not fall and roll around. He deliberately chose not to look as Yubelluna stopped beside him, not even panting.
"Why..." he said. "Why'm I...wearing this stupid...tracksuit...?"
She frowned, leaning over to look him in the face. "Tracksuits look good." She shifted in her own firetruck-red joggers.
Issei gave up convincing her that tracksuits were fugly; she wasn't one to be swayed by his appeals to masculinity. He'd only worn it because he knew she'd ask why if he didn't.
Shaking his head, he pushed on. There was plenty of company as he got closer to the city's center, and at some point he discovered the silence to be more companionable than uncomfortable.
The city began to wake as the morning rapidly passed, Issei's footsteps echoing less and less as the ambient noise of civilization took it over. The mist rising off the river was something to behold, and perhaps that too helped him keep going. There was an odd, mystical quality to pushing through the low-hanging shroud, one that chilled his limbs and cleared his head. He had a lot to think about, and not much time to say it.
He continued jogging until he could push on no further, mind finally at ease, and slumped down.
"Wanna...call it here...?" Turning slightly, he caught her in the corner of his eye.
Not a gasp, not a drop of sweat. Issei shut his eyes, and focused on catching his breath.
She eventually, reluctantly, voiced approval, and once more Issei found himself slumping onto a bench beside her. His breath continued to steam harshly.
"I'm surprised you joined me." Issei said after a while, dabbing at his sweat self-consciously. "Got free time?"
"Yes." She said shortly, eyes fixed on the skyline. "There hasn't been much to do. Riser has been roped into wedding plans by R-by the bride's family."
Issei waited patiently with a mild expression of interest on his face, something he could honestly say he was getting quite a bit of practice in. After a moment, faced with his expression, she continued. "...he hasn't needed us for much."
Translation: R-Riser-kyun hasn't asked after me at aaaaaaaallll~~~ he doesn't looooooove meeee~~~ Issei-samaaa, please help this unworthy soul! My massive chest is-
Issei blinked back to awareness, tips of his ears pinking.
Well, it was probably something like that, anyway. This girl would never admit it, even if he was right.
Issei sucked on his lip, thoughtfully. They'd spoken on and off for the past few weeks, in corridors or the odd queue, and he could say for fact that her expression had only continued to sink in that time. Not to sadness or anger, but to a sort of placid acceptance, somewhere between apathy and relief. It was, to be frank, quite terrifying.
What it really boiled down to was the question he spoke next: "Why do you still work for that guy?"
She turned to him. "What?"
Issei spoke quickly. She knew, already, that this was why he'd invited her out again. Just as he knew she would resent it fiercely. She wouldn't entertain his questions for long. "You hate it there. You haven't done anything in weeks, you talk about a wedding I haven't seen, coworkers I've never met and a desire to do something I've yet to see acted out. Why stay?"
She didn't answer.
"Why are you second fiddle?" Issei repeated. "You said you were hired for the position, temporarily. You're strong, you said so. Why not leave?"
Her expression was calm. It smoothed out like a lake. Still water. Unresponsive.
But Issei had twigged onto something, a long while ago. A hint, a suspicion. He just needed an answer.
"Do you really love him?"
She didn't answer, lips twisting.
She couldn't answer. It was something she herself didn't know. Did she love Riser?
Yes. And no. Issei would put money on it. She didn't know what she wanted.
"You said you helped him win his fiancee in a competition. What did he give you, to help him?"
"Why does it concern you?" She countered lowly. A fair question.
"I'm worried about you."
She clicked her tongue impatiently. Ha! She had no counter to genuine concern. Was he winning? Could you win this kind of discussion? He felt like he'd gained ground anyway, to...some end. Probably.
"Why else do you care?" She demanded. Her voice was frustrated, in a rather more murderous way than charming. Somehow, unlike his mangas, he doubted the right answer would be, "because I love you" or some shit. She might actually kill him for that.
Honesty, go!
"Er?"
That's right, he had no idea! He was obsessed with the answer for purely selfish reasons, but had no idea what they were! Issei Hyoudou was a creature of reflex and instinct, idiot! If he had the capacity for that degree of self-reflection, he probably wouldn't be an open pervert to begin with!
She blew out a long breath, and gave up.
"Cake." She said grudgingly.
Issei coughed. "What?" You gave up your love for a pastry? Selling yourself a mite cheap there, aren't we? Ah, that came out wrong.
"Cake." She repeated. "We, his peerage, demanded a cake each to help him."
Issei felt his lips twitch. That poor bastard, Riser, had to bribe his harem to help? So that's why-
"Ah. Was it your first cake?"
"Not by the time I got it."
"Ah. Sorry."
"If you know what you did wrong, good. Now shut up."
Someone was waiting for them, bouncing one foot impatiently outside the school gates. A man, blonde of hair and mien, rap-tap-tapping his expensive loafers on the cracked sidewalk.
Issei waved once he looked up to acknowledge them, while Yubelluna sped up as they approached, drawing closer faster and faster, slowing only to press herself gently to Riser's side.
Riser sneered and gave Issei the up-nod while the two curled into each other, Riser's hand sliding around her waist and Yubelluna curving an arm about his neck.
Perhaps you might believe Issei was jealous at this scene; indeed, normally you would be correct.
But look closer, and closer still.
Yubelluna had pressed herself to Riser's chest, running her hand under his doubtlessly expensive dress shirt, but flinched every time he went to pull away. Riser held her close, but never once looked at her face, or smiled. He looked over her head, surveying the world like he owned it. But not the girl in his arms. Not once.
What twisted children these were!
Issei had seen him flash-grill a burger in the palm of his hand when he was hungry. Considering what that would do to a fine stick of Issei-chops, Riser was perhaps not wrong to be so arrogant. And yet, could such a man lack the courage to acknowledge a girl that loved him?
It was news to Issei. Scary, scary news. It boded poorly for his own future.
Perhaps Riser loved her as well, but wasn't it already too late? He'd already used her to help him win another's hand. She couldn't even look at him any longer. There were no words left to say, no matter how tightly he held her.
It was already over. There was nobody left to save Riser from himself.
Oh wait, this fucking pervert had a harem didn't he? Issei wished to humbly request his concern be returned to him, it ought to have been reserved for attractive women to begin with.
But Issei wisely kept his thoughts to himself, instead just offering the two an uncomfortable smile.
"Please stop showing off your harem, the jealousy hurts." Issei told Riser. "I might cry, you know? Are you even capable of taking responsibility for a man's tears?" You can't even take responsibility for someone that loves you, bastard. Share some of that fortune.
Riser grinned, and then laughed at a joke only he knew. "If you insist." He turned and kissed the top of Yubelluna's head, before turning back to him, with an interested gleam in his eye. "But, feel free to come over and play whenever you want."
"I thought I wasn't worthy."
"I wonder." Riser mused. "Perhaps the great Riser was hasty in saying such. After all," he laughed again, "Yubelluna didn't kill you for the presumption."
What
Issei's eyes darted down to Yubelluna, who tilted her nose up at him.
That date was a trap
Riser leered at him, intercepting his nonverbal screams at Yubelluna with an easy callousness. "You're probably the same sort of person, come to think of it... I don't mind that kind of self-aware guy. Even in a human."
"He's not self-aware." Yubelluna grumbled. "He has emotional tourettes." She shot him a scathing look.
"Titties." Issei said promptly.
Yubelluna shook her head sadly. "Simply uncontrollable."
"I feel that." Riser mused, a misty look coming to his eye as he gazed into the middle distance. Issei whipped his head down and glared at Yubelluna.
Yubelluna rolled her eyes and unzipped her tracksuit a little, immediately distracting him as pale flesh began to sway in unexpected, wonderful ways.
He instantly forgave her.
"Anyway." Whatever damage Riser had been resolving was evidently over, as he turned back to them with clear eyes. "You can-" he blinked. "Hyoudou?"
"Eh?" Issei tore away from Yubelluna's swaying hips, eyes dancing around her mocking expression to return to Riser. "What?"
For some reason, Riser grinned - even wider. He leaned in, and spoke directly to Issei's face.
"***"
Words, Issei did not understand, nor did he wish to hear. All he knew was that there was an honesty to them that irritated him, infuriated him to a degree he could not stand.
"Thanks." Issei said shortly, taking steps backwards, before turning around and walking away quickly. He could feel their eyes on his back, fire and ice, boring into the back of his head, following him all the way down the street.
"I'll free you from your troublesome burden - from responsibility - any time you wish. Just ask."
In that moment, Riser's expression was unpleasant, to such an extent that even Issei worked up the will to consider punching it. He had only an inkling of what Riser meant, or even what the offer really was, but Issei swore to never accept. He didn't need some handsome bastard giving him orders.
He wouldn't mind if it was a pretty girl though...
"Er, Mister...Sudeep? You summoned me, yes? Please-"
"Just shut the door!"
Kiba slammed the door shut behind him, wincing as it rattled the frame. Sudeep poked his head out from under his sheets, where they bound him head to toe. "Did-" his eyes darted about, and pink flashed as he wet cracked lips. "Did you-" his voice cracked harshly, "-did you-you didn't!"
He darted back into the blankets, shivering, as Kiba looked around frantically, wondering what he'd missed.
"The sill!" Came the hissed reply, under the blankets. "Cover the gap!"
Looking straight down, Kiba saw the rolled cylinder of cloth, and a little further back, the notch in the floor where it would cleanly fit, and seal the bottom of the door. Kiba winced.
"Mr. Sudeep, won't you suffocate-"
"I'll survive a few hours without air!" The sheets shivered a bit. "But if that fucking fly gets in, I'll kill you, and then myself!"
Kiba slowly rolled the cushion in, trying to take shallow breaths as the rank air of the room threatened to choke him. Or worse, cling to his good uniform. He tried to step gingerly on the carpet, and not raise dust as he trod carefully to the hard mattress placed in the center of the room, coated in layer after layer of thick chemical-drenched blankets under which Sudeep shivered. "Mr. Sudeep." He said cautiously. "I understand your concern, but it is just a fl-"
The bloodshot eye that pinned him down sealed his lips. Kiba's gut sank as he realized this man was entirely genuine in his wide-eyed fear.
"That fly - it robbed me of everything." Sudeep sounded near tears. "A devil, you said you were? Bullshit! I've seen a real devil! I've seen it - buzzing, buzzing around my head, in my ear, up my nostril, clawing inside my head, scratching its way to my brain, scraping at my ear drum, scraping its little legs against my eyes when I- when I-" the blanket shivered more violently, growing tighter, more compact, trembling.
"Um."
"You said-you said you were a devil? You said you could grant wishes? Any wish?" The man's head extended from under the blanket, like a serpent, his whole body following the motion until he was nose-to-nose with a frozen Kiba. "Hey, can you - can you kill someone? Finish him off? Grind him to pieces? Kill him, extra, extra dead?"
The man confronting Kiba was a man ground down to nubs. Yellowed clothes, recessed eyes, twitching and sweating, and fearful of even his own shadow lest it conceal his foe.
And the burns. Horrible, weeping burns that swathed most of his visible flesh, cracked and almost fuzzy at points. His face seemed paralyzed, so still he kept it to avoid cracking the injuries open. Even his screams of fury were through pursed lips. His words held a slight whistling quality to them as a result, from air moving rapidly through the fleshy straw of his sealed lips.
"I'm not-"
"Kill that fly!" Sudeep hissed. "Stamp it out! Kill it good! Wipe it from fucking exis-oh no."
A buzz. A hum in the air, like static on the wind. A whining drone, as a little housefly wound it's way down from the ceiling, rubbing its little legs together with a passionate fervor.
"Is that thing wearing goggles?"
"It's armed!" Sudeep hissed, groping around under his blanket for something. "I must - ah, where is it?! - give your countrymen their due Kiba, they know their microart well, they armed the little bastard to the teeth - got it, I gotcha you little fu-" Sudeep whipped the blanket off, drawing a Redhawk out from under his pillow like the world's shiniest rabbit, and letting a round or two off towards the ceiling. "Ah, fuck!" The room physically shook, the thin walls wobbling as the .454 Casull rounds shredded the ceiling like cardboard. "Hold-I'll kill you-" Sudeep yelped as shards of glass fell, scraping at his already heavily scarred features. "I can't-aha!" There was the tiniest sqt and a very long, lingering hum in the air as the gun stopped firing. Sudeep sighed in satisfaction as a lone wing drifted down.
"You just shot the - where did you get that gun?"
"I smuggled it." Sudeep said blankly. "Money is the least of my worries. The rishi only promised me that the magic of this land might solve my issue. I only know that it will likely require your aid, not what that would entail. Or how long it might take. What if I needed to defend myself?"
"From the fly."
"Yes of course." Said the man calmly, veins visibly pulsing in his eye. "Didn't you see it? It followed me, all the way to this goddamn country. There's nowhere to hide."
"You just shot it. You shot a fly out of the air, why do you even need my help?!"
"He'll be back." A nerve in Sudeep's jaw jumped. "He's always back. I lit him on fire, speared him, stabbed him, carved him up, blew him up, he always comes back. He wasn't satisfied with the burns, he wants to finish the job. I won't let him, you hear?" The pistol rattled ominously. "I won't let him."
Kiba slowly put his hands up.
"-and then I had to promise him I'd either bring him a solution, or let him shoot the infected panda." Kiba finished.
"Damn." Issei scratched at his chin thoughtfully. "Sounds like bullshit."
"...it isn't. Even if, well..." Kiba replied awkwardly. He felt rather ashamed of making light of the man's struggle, but...
"Makes sense you'd get a lot of weirdos." Matsuda muttered. "Being a devil sounds like a real pain in the ass sometimes, with all this wish stuff." Kiba grunted his assent, ducking beneath a drying rack.
The four of them had left school after lunchtime, taking the long way around past Lin 43'rd street and all the way down the Butcher's alley to avoid the truancy cops. It was a red place, red in spirit and red in stain, coating the walls and floor.
"This is a pretty inauspicious place to be talking about curses." Motohama noted nervously.
"Every time, it blows my mind that this place was allowed to stay." Issei murmured, swerving past someone carrying a chicken cage. Motohama ducked a half-stowed ladder to come up beside him. "The town's new governor 'is said to have a great appreciation for japanese culture'." He said cheerily. "And also insisted on only having the freshest sample of the local food. For every meal, apparently."
"The mayor is totally a gaijin." Matsuda grumbled behind them. "Some shit-for-brains with too much money from Europe or something. Who else would pay for this? The whole street looks like Nagoya."
"Be polite." Motohama chided. "That shit-for-brains bankrolled my future harem."
The three started chuckling, low and dirty. Issei wiped fondly at his Kuoh Academy lapel pin. "They can take over any time they want, if it means more hot ladies come by."
Kiba, who had begun looking increasingly nervous at the mentions of shit-for-brains gaijin, coughed abruptly. "So what should I do?"
That put them to pause.
"About the magic fly?"
"Yes."
"You're asking us, man?"
Kiba gestured expressively. "Why not? I could use help, if I'm being honest. This is a new one on me."
"Dude." The three traded looks. "It's a fly. Like, literally a fly. Like, literally just kill it? Even if the fly was haunted, like, you can just kill it right?"
"Well..." Kiba nervously rubbed his palms dry on his pants.
"Oh no." Motohama moaned. "You're not serious."
"What?" Matsuda turned to face them, walking backwards. "What? What's going on?"
"He bought it. He believes the fly curse."
"You're kidding."
"Well..." Kiba rubbed his hands nervously. "He was very convincing. And ghosts are real. And well..."
The fly slowly extended two forelimbs, waggled them at its eyes, before jabbing them at Kiba. A screaming Sudeep fought to peel the burning clay from his beard before it added to his already extensive collection of facial scars. His thrashing startled the bottle on the table, sending it wobbling, but the fly's position atop it was granite.
Kiba swallowed. "I'm a contractor?" He tried.
The fly slowly slid its hand under it's bulbous head. Kiba felt the cold slice of fear tickle his jugular.
"...look, please, I could use some advice in this case. I don't handle a lot of, uh, domestic issues."
"That's a filthy lie." Issei accused. "You told me about all the petty shit people call you for. Are you telling me that you've never been called to kill a spider?"
"Maybe my hirers don't want to see me dirty?"
Matsuda and Motohama simultaneously turned and spat in disgust into an open gutter.
"Please help. Flies are hard to exorcise."
"Did you try bug spray?" Issei said impatiently.
Kiba fought to not roll his eyes. "Do you think we didn't?"
"No, please." Kiba begged. The fly waggled its abdomen ominously, balanced atop the nozzle of bug spray. It listed dangerously close to the edge of the table Kiba was trapped under, opening aimed squarely at his face.
"Please. I can help! I grant wishes!" Kiba begged, weeping gently. "I can-please! No!"
The fly swung under the level, flexing it's tiny limbs and drawing the nozzle closer to opening by another hair, before striking the makeshift paperclip press latch with it's extra legs and holding it in place. It crawled back up to the nozzle, and continued to stare into Kiba's eyes with remorseless intent.
Somewhere behind him, Sudeep had long gone silent. The only noise left was the soft lick of flames consuming the tiny studio.
"-something like that happened, I guess?" Issei offered. The other two fought back giggles.
Kiba sniffed. "You can't prove that's what happened. And I will not share unless you agree to help."
Issei got the distinct feeling that he was being goaded, but he was curious about devil work...
"Sure." Issei said. "I got some time."
"Some time?" Matsuda's ears twitched. "What the hell else do you have going on?"
"Yubelluna w-w-" he yawned heavily, "-was bitching about Riser. Super late too. Gonna go home and sleep." Tired as he was, he missed the other three's eyes narrowing dangerously. "Anyway, so what was the..."
Issei yawned again, stumbling into the school building, and accidentally lost his balance, slamming into the wall to his left. He groaned and briefly stopped to lean his forehead against the wall as the early morning sun beat down on his eyelids.
He hadn't slept. He was too excited to be communicating with a girl on his cellphone. It was fucking with his head, pushing him to make bad decisions, whispering things like 2 hours of sleep is enough right? Okinaga-sensei won't notice if you catch up on sleep in English...
Slowly stumbling back to his feet, he slowly trudged up the stairs to the side of the entrance, his footsteps echoing. He slumped his way down the rapidly emptying halls, eventually arriving at his class and sliding the door open.
The inhabitants froze. Issei blinked, and rubbed his eyes.
"Where'd the desks go?" He asked, dazed.
The classroom turned to face him. The faces were blank.
Issei screamed as they dove for him as one.
"Gentlemen!" Roared a man standing in the center of the room. "We have, among us tonight-"
"This morning." Asahina-san muttered under her breath. It was slightly muffled, as the entire classroom was wearing their winter uniforms as headscarves, but she'd forgotten to take off her little junior council badge. How cute, she was a toady-in-training. Issei might have actually found that somewhat charming if she wasn't also holding his leash.
Kiryuu, instantly recognizable as being one of three people who didn't care enough to hide their faces, interrupted both thought and speech by swiftly kicking the orator in the nads.
He wheezed and turned a lovely puce. It went extremely well with the window curtains, so much so that Hana-sensei was taking notes. Also, his deadbeat teacher was in the room and not stopping them. He'd be reporting her to human resources later, once he figured out how she kept getting away with this kind of abuse.
"Gentlemen and ladies." Kiryuu told the fallen hero. "Get it right."
The next one up unceremoniously evicted the previous master of ceremonies via applied trauma, and stood in his place.
"Ladies and Gentlemen!" Cried the supposedly disguised replacement that was just clearly Motohama. He was wearing his glasses on over his headscarf for some reason. "We, the classroom of poor fools forced to put up with the endlessly disturbing antics of Issei Hyoudou-"
Someone coughed pointedly.
"-on a regular basis!" Motohama continued on gamely. "He, who dares violate the sanctity of the locker rooms, the bathrooms, the changing rooms, the theatre club dressing rooms, that one changing room in the Sephora's down by the mall that has a hole in it for some reason with all the creepy old dudes that just sit right beside it on Sunday evenings-"
The mood continued to spiral downwards, and now people were steadily getting angrier.
At the speaker.
Issei swallowed a grin. He hadn't known about the Sephora's.
"-and other various, assorted crimes!" Motohama continued hurriedly. "He had the gall, to go on a date! He dared make a public, platonic overture of affection towards an innocent young woman who was entirely unaware of his deviant proclivities! How dare he!"
""""""How dare he."""""" The crowd murmured.
Some were still shooting Motohama ugly looks. Issei had the distinct feeling that he was next.
"Ew gross!" Asahina-san groaned. "What the fuck, I go there!"
"I already called the cops." Said her friend beside her. She'd done a better job covering her face and mouth, so Issei couldn't tell who it was. "This turned out to be a grrrrreat way to root out all those dirty bastards. For some reason, these guys are dim enough to rat each other out."
Actually, Asahina's friend-san, I'm pretty sure Motohama's just salty that they've camped out next to that hole and don't let us get a turn. He was probably hoping you'd call the cops. I'll have to charge my power drill.
"He has infringed upon the limitations imposed on all, pathetic dateless men like himself! He, who surrendered the right to a happy life, for panty-shots, how dare he!"
""""""How dare he!"""""" The crowd hissed.
"Why am I here." Asked Yuuto Kiba, third member of the deeply-unashamed club, albeit involuntarily. "I'm not even in this class."
One of the faceless girl-shaped hooded figures waddled over shyly, offering Kiba a large wooden stick. He took it, expression frozen in placed confusion, which slowly morphed into outright horror as she obligingly lit the oiled torch. It sprang up, dark shadows dancing on Kiba's pale features.
"We thought you might want first go, Kiba-kun." Said Hana-chan (no relation) obligingly.
"Oh." Said Kiba. He turned to Issei slowly. Issei looked at him beseechingly as he suddenly realized that this was taking a dangerous turn. From what he recalled, Kiba had stepped in to save people like him before, arguing in favor of their better natures and trying to help him. Surely, now that they were friends, he would-
"Any last words?" Said Kiba helplessly.
Useless bastard.
"I heard he cons women into stripping in public." Whispered Asahina's friend. "And makes them cry in front of the police station."
What kind of lowlife gimmick is that?!
"I heard some perverts do that a lot." Said Asahina. "Whisper a few words in their ear and walk away with all their money and valuables while they can't move! It's really scary!"
That's not a pervert, Asahina-san, that's a hypnotist. I'm still only 16, you know? That's an entirely different kind of criminal history? Are you the one that's been stealing my h-doujins from my locker?
"GUILTY!" Howled Motohama.
""""""GUILTY!""""""
"I have shit to say first!" Issei suddenly said.
The classroom went dead quiet, save for the scratching of Hana-sensei's pencil.
Issei peeked at Asahina and noticed a gag dangling uselessly from her hands. Evidently she'd forgotten to put it on him.
Yeah! Said his subconsciousness. Or that she just didn't want to touch you long enough to put it on. We definitely believe it's the former though.
"How about nah?" Offered Kiryuu. Issei hissed at her, and she hissed back. He flinched and cowered a bit. What kind of young lady sounds like that?! No wonder his grandpa always complained about youth culture going to the dogs.
"Let 'im speak." Hana-sensei mumbled slightly, chin buried into her chest. Issei could have wept. He wiggled slightly to the right, trying to keep Kiba in between him and Kiryuu.
The classroom frowned a bit, and there were murmurs of dissent; evidently they didn't really care about what he had to say.
Hana-sensei must've also sensed the blood in the air, because she looked up with a sharp expression on her face that made his heart briefly stutter.
"You can always kill him later?" She said. "Not like he can defend himself."
What the fuck. You're never gonna get married with child abuse on your criminal record, y'know?
There were suddenly a lot of smiles in the classroom. Kuoh Academy was a private school, and an expensive one to boot. Issei was here on a full-ride scholarship and the grace of God, otherwise he'd never be able to afford it. But these bastards, they had parents willing to shell out a small fortune to get them here. Basically, all of these people were wealthy, rich young masters, who lived at the top of the pyramid. Wealthy, arrogant, pretentious, they spoke like sophisticated young adults, but these young masters were experts in ganging up and bullying poors like Issei since they were in elementary school and Tooru-kun had held him up for his lunch money.
Incidentally, when Issei spoke about bullying, the image that comes to mind may be of a large young man holding Issei by the ankles and shaking the dimes from his pockets; not so dear reader! Kuoh City and multiple outlying districts had switched to electronic lunch credit in the 90's, keyed to ID cards, to ensure nutritionist-approved meals were provided to children. Little Issei wrote his first check to the tune of ¥300 of sandwich money.
All this to say, that Issei was perhaps too used to this sort of thing.
"Matsuda groped the swim teacher during CPR practice."
The frisson of disbelief and fury was brief, but present.
Betray this great lord Issei, will you, my traitorous comrades? Did you think this great lord hasn't already seen through your paper castle?
"Motohama stole Hikari-chan's panties."
The rumble wasn't imagined. The blind gnashing of teeth was audible even through the thick coverings. Issei saw Motohama quietly slip his glasses off and begin retreating into the crowd.
One more, but I can't push 'em too hard...
Issei put on a look of fake shock, and gestured into the crowd with his chin. "Oh my god, there he is now! It's still hanging out of his pocket!"
The crowd swivelled cautiously, only to confront a disguised young man, short, bowlegged and furtive, suspiciously shoving some panties deeper into his pocket. He froze.
Sorry Iemine, but we saw you and your girlfriend getting it on behind the school building. How fucking dare you walk around with her panties?
Issei quietly untied himself as the classroom erupted into chaos, sliding back on his ass and slowly crawling for the exit. Something bumped into him; he turned to the side and Kiba was also crawling desperately away.
"Where's the torch?"
Kiba's hollow expression reflected firelight; both turned to see Asahina-san waving it wildly and jabbing at people with the burning end.
"Well, keep crawling dumbass." He told his traitorous friend. "And maybe they won't remember we exist."
Right around the time that Issei Hyoudou was getting his best life on, Freed Sellzen stood outside his church, watching hot smoke burn away. He absently swirled a cup of coffee in his hands, bouncing his cigarette to the corner of his lips before taking a sip, and sighed contentedly.
The church he stood beside rose above Kuoh City, bare of ornamentation from the outside in a way that made it seem regal. The sun set behind him, and while the hills around the city gained a cerise hue, the city that sat in the middle shone like stars in the shade as he stared down at it.
"Come out." He said, a slight shuffling from around the corner of the church putting lie to the thought that he was alone.
"Y-you saw me?"
"You move like an ape, girl." He snorted. "Also, you tripped on a shovel on the way over. This cute Freed-chin has eyes like an ibis and the ears of a wax moth." He flipped his hair. "The coloration too. Aren't I handsome? Why would you hide from someone this handsome? You can appreciate me in the open, you know?"
Further shuffling, before a little blonde head of hair poked out from around the corner, hardly five feet off the ground. "Sorry..." She murmured, stumbling out, her fraying habit catching on her feet. She slowly made her way to where Freed stood, trembling slightly. "Ah...I simply-"
"-were curious. How boring." Freed blew out a long breath and lifted a finger to his lips thoughtfully. "You want to see our guest, yes?"
Turning, he walked back towards the church, hardly waiting for her to follow before he leaned against the front doors and slowly crept them open.
He gestured slightly, one finger crooked, and Asia slowly followed, to stand beside him and peek inside.
"There he is..." Freed murmured, eyes distant yet unerringly focused on the back of the man before them. "Our precious hero..."
Asia too, could not tear her eyes from the figure in the distant hall. It was not that he was handsome, though he was. It was not that he was tall, though that was true as well. He just felt large, big in a way even small animals could be with sufficient malice. The man radiated a terrifying kind of strength, a bestial kind of feeling that curled about his shoulders and the taut outline of his back.
"Why do you call him that?" She asked softly. "'Hero', why?"
Freed grinned silently, remembering how sheltered this child was. It was a neverending font of amusement. He'd murder most anyone else for speaking like that to him. A privilege, afforded to the innocent and the immortal.
"Well, just look at him." Freed said breezily. "Looks the part, don't he? What do you think it means, for people like him to be walking around? Sacred gears were made to even the playing field for humanity, but once you give someone as strong as that dirty bastard a gear, he's untouchable. They say he has a fucking Longinus too. That's a sign of the end times right there; he's a serious contender for the identity of Nostradamus's King of Terror. He's a walking death knell to the status quo."
"But he's..." Asia searched for the words. "A devil. I thought you...hated them all. To acknowledge one as your hero..."
"True," he admitted. "Even a year ago, I would have shouted 'Yahoo!' and gone to carve the Heart Sutra on his scrote. I heard people do that on, like, grains of rice or some shit? Can't be much harder working with his little peas." He absently searched the air for the right words. His conflicted expression touched little Asia's soft heart. "Maybe I'm old, eh? Even I can hope..."
"Actually, you know what?" Freed snapped his fingers. "I've been coldcocked too long. That's it." He said. "It's all numb. I don't even feel like killing him. Damn, I actually don't mind waiting. I think I've almost surpassed physical desire and achieved enlightenment. It's about time I converted to Buddhism."
"...buddhists are nonviolent, are they not?"
Freed blinked in genuine surprise. "Really?" He turned back to the door biting his lip. "Never mind then. Shit, what was all this abstinence for?"
Asia blinked her large eyes. "You were actually planning...to convert to Buddhism?"
Freed grinned an ugly grin. "Everyone needs an out, yes? Especially..." He squinted, focusing on the people speaking near the pulpit. "Especially now..."
Now that we're so close to the war to end it all...
"It's not happening." Raynare said coldly, leaning against a pew. "We've cooperated, but there are expectations involved."
Vali Lucifer stood stock-still, eyes briefly flaring in anger, before he tamped it down. He faced not the girl speaking, but the one behind her, who lounged even now upon the wooden stage. "I wasn't aware there were such things as far as our cooperation goes." He hissed. "I held off the Executioners, I even saved you from Quarta when you failed, and you're backing down?"
The man behind the pulpit briefly stirred, but Raynare spoke faster. "You little devil shite." She hissed, hackles a-risen. "You fucked up, and drew their attention in the first place! Where the hell do you get off questioning Lord Azazel's plans?"
Vali knew very well he could keep this going - the facts stood that they'd fucked up, and he was well within his rights and abilities to simply kill them all for it. Even speaking to this lot threatened to have him break out into hives. But-
"Where. Is Red. Tell me. Now. You owe me. Azazel-" a sly twist of the lips, unseen, "-owes me."
-there was so much more in play here.
Raynare faintly grimaced. "Not yet. You haven't delivered yet."
"...?"
Freed perked up when he noticed Asia's puzzled expression. "Ah? What are they saying? Is that what you asked? It's a secret, y'know? You should cherish that. A handsome guy like that, whispering dirty secrets? Good looking people with mysteries are only more attractive, but a good girl like you shouldn't develop an interest in a sinful fellow like that." He patted her roughly on the head, taunting leer stretching invisibly across his face. "Get interested in a guy like Keiji Mutoh instead. When a sweaty guy like that keeps a secret it's just creepy. You can always trust a guy that knows secrets are a bad look on him."
Asia faintly trembled, as it seemed she understood less the more Freed spoke. "But...do you know...what they're talking about?"
"Well sure."
"Are you? Sure?"
Freed paused.
The main doors slammed open, kicked aside with a violent haste.
"Yahoo! It's Freed-chan! Here to stir some shit!"
Raynare groaned as Freed strode into the room like he had cantaloupes between his legs.
"What."
"Nah nah nah," Freed cackled, waggling a finger. "Naughty naughty! Sharing information without this cute Freed-chan around, someone might assume something was going on!"
A sigh of irritation echoed through the empty church, but a deep voice chuckled and waved it away.
"Come now, Vali. He's the only Holy Sword Wielder I have left worthy of the name. Forgive his eccentricities."
Vali's pale eyebrows twitched as he twisted back to face the pulpit. "Shame, that this is your remaining ace." He said coldly. "But if they died so fast, were they really worth a damn?"
The man laughed velvet, shifting slightly as he adjusted his position, and behind him ten wings stirred the wind as well.
"Now, now." Kokabiel grinned, "I already told you I liked where this was going, so we're in this together now, little Lucifer. Azazel's plan brooks no leeway on this count." The smirk that passed from the one seated to the devil went unnoticed, though the devil wished otherwise. He felt filthy even continuing this charade. "Freed's part is valuable to this end, and he's done a wonderful job."
Vali ground his teeth slightly, as once again, he wondered if he should just kill them.
It wouldn't even be hard. So very easy. Thirty seconds, a minute tops. How strong could yesteryear trash like Kokabiel possibly be?
But no.
He allowed it to fester a little more, that core of malice in his chest, let it bubble up into his throat until the rage threatened to choke him and all he saw was red. For a moment, his hands flexed so powerfully his nails splintered.
For the briefest moment, the gauntlet on his right arm crept into reality, porcelain white bleeding over his knuckles and wrist, blue gem swirling.
Then he pushed it all down with a practiced ease. Just to remind himself what was at stake here.
These borrowed tools weren't enough, Kokabiel and his clowns were only so useful. He needed a much, much grander, much stronger spark before his rage could light the heavens.
So as the buffoon continued his ambling pace into the cavernous room, Vali swallowed his pride once more, and let him live.
"Lookin' peaky there, boss!"
Kokabiel chuckled, but there was an edge of fury to it. His right hand absently rose, drawing layers and curtains of cloth to cradle the stump of an arm, while fresh scars drew pale in the candlelit cast of his face.
"Shoulda known better than to tangle with the old man." Freed grinned, twirling a lightblade casually. "That old monster is immortal."
"Nevertheless, even he could not stop us." Kokabiel spoke softly. "We retrieved what we wanted." He tipped his head. "With the young Lucifer's aid, of course."
The sound of Vali grinding his teeth echoed in the church.
Kuroka-cat had been watching Freak and the little girl peer into the room with a kind of absent amusement. Vali had asked her to stop washing herself around him, probably because he was a horny teenager now and imagining what it looked like in her human body was how he got his rocks off.
Naughty, naughty.
She leaned forward a bit as they continued speaking, but didn't really care enough to listen. The girl was cute though; it was almost enough to wonder why she associated with a gremlin like Freak.
She crept a little closer once her fur was polished, ambling over with a careless confidence borne of knowing she was the most attractive being in six miles. She'd be given scratches if she curled up to Asia's leg, she knew. She would be given scratches, she was just too cute to not be adored and worshipped. She went to do just that, only for Freak to suddenly dash through the doors. She was already moving quickly, and the slick stones slid her feet out from under her. Her legs went wild, thrashing and clawing at the cobbled stone, barely skidding to a halt as the doors rapidly yawned shut and collided with her nose on the swingback.
"!"
She hissed in pain and frustration as her delicate pink button nose smushed a bit against the wood. Her pudgy little legs flexed as she reared up and clawed the offending bit of scrap, peeling off strips of wood and paint from the aged door. She'd be doing the same to Freak's genitals soon, she swore darkly.
Huffing in frustration, she settled back down, tail lashing, as she stared at Asia with evil intent. Asia, for her part, seemed hesitant to join Freak as he continued boisterously announcing himself. She did, however, push the door slightly open to continue listening in.
Kuroka sat bolt upright, tail extended in excitement. She slid through Asia's legs and slipped into the foyer of the church silently. They didn't suspect a thing; those buffoons were too busy crowing to themselves and measuring metaphysical penii or something. Kuroka chose to neither understand nor judge.
She curled to the left instead, maneuvering toward some covered furniture piled high. It was quite a bit, high enough that from there she could jump to the rafters and hang tight in comfort. She settled back, waggling her butt as she tensed her back legs-
-and shot forward! She was a liquid blur as she moved, covering ground in seconds before she leapt powerfully, jumping over halfway up the tower-
-the tower of loosely piled furniture and broken accoutrements and undesired paraphernalia of religious intent or otherwise-
-loosely piled into a careless heap. She landed her featherlike body mass onto the pile and immediately heard something violently crack.
Indignantly, she denied the idea that she had caused that. She was a light, spry little kitty, and this was the fault of whichever troglodyte had designed this structure. Poorly.
She continued this train of thought as the tower began to list and lean, having lost some critical load-bearing part. Kuroka contemptuously flicked her tail at the shaky structure and hopped down-
-onto a board that immediately snapped under her. Scrabbling in a sudden panic, she fell further down the tower of trash, as she bounced entirely off the side and sent the whole thing tipping.
Kuroka immediately flexed her senjutsu muscles like she hadn't since Taco Day, flexing and twisting through the falling rubbish, moving through it all with an absolute ease-
-as her back leg struck something heavy and metal with senjutsu-strengthened force, and rather than flex it went flipping entirely away.
For a long, frozen moment, Kuroka hung in the air, petrified, having lost her balance as the mountain of trash, collapsing in a rain of steel and wood and glass that sent hundreds of pounds of garbage flying with the sound of hurricane-force howling, rose high above her like a tsunami. A deep fear came over her, as she realized her precious tail, extended to it's limit, was in some very real danger.
The mountain collapsed in almost slow motion, so massive and ponderous that it took several seconds for it's groaning bulk to entirely settle after it hit the ground. Damn near everything exploded to pieces like a bomb went off, the whole church shaking and doors erupting open from the force.
Kuroka, safe and intact, slunk away quietly.
"Kurokaaaaaa..."
Vali grit his teeth, easily standing his ground as the room behind him fell to pieces. "What the hell did you..."
Vali stopped speaking. Something else drew his attention, his eyes like a magnet. The metal piece Kuroka had kicked, unbeknownst to her, held the shape of a thick metal cross, bound and wrapped. It spun through the air, deceptively lightly, until it slammed into the floor and through.
The binding came loose, and the bare steel force of Heaven washed over them.
"Excalibur." How quaint. But this holy energy...
Too weak. Far, far too weak. Kokabiel had been right, a completed holy sword would be necessary to do any kind of damage to an ultimate-class devil.
Kuroka, I'll forgive you this time
"Is this...?" Freed whispered in disbelief. "Is this what you retrieved?" He drifted towards the blade, almost hovering, pulled by some current greater than himself. "Are we really that close?"
A motion caught the corner of Vali's eye. Kokabiel.
He continued sitting, though his head was tilted all the way to the side. His eyes were fixed on Freed now, as he slowly grasped the blade.
A thin light filled the church, sourced from nothing and no one. Vali turned away, feeling his eyes sting and burn. A traitorous tear escaped, and he wiped it away harshly. Something caught his eye, and he looked up to see Raynare doing the same, eyes as red as his own likely were.
Kokabiel slowly pushed himself up. "Well." He purred. "That would be another concern assuaged, no? Valper did his part with aplomb, rest his soul. Freed has indeed been accepted by the holy spirits. Hear me now Freed, you may no longer leave the church without permission; there is a great deal of work to be done."
Freed stood, face curiously blank as he gripped the sword so tightly his knuckles went stark-white, hunched all the way over. "That right?" He said softly. "What about the plan? I'm almost done."
"Irrelevant. Someone else will handle it. This is the only choice you have, if you intend to keep working here." Kokabiel smiled thinly. "Or breathing, I suppose. We will need this...talent of yours, when the time comes."
"Only choice you say." Mused Freed, clutching the blade ever-closer. "I wonder."