Friends, comrades, we are in the midst of a war with the Four Riders, the White Rider in particular, but hope is not lost. For everyone who fights the White Rider by washing their hands and living in isolation, thank you. For those who keep the Black Rider at bay by upholding our postal system, supply chain, and the infrastructure we took for granted, a special thank you. For all doctors, nurses, janitors, and other medical staff who look the Pale Rider in the eye to save us all, an extra special thank you. And for all of you, who restrain the Red Rider within us all by keeping calm and not allowing fear and anger to turn to violence and hate, I cannot thank you enough. No matter how you contribute, remember that we are all comrades in arms. Together, we shall defeat Crowned Pestilence!
Yay, I got a Tv Tropes page! It's under Not the Intended Use, but there's stuff from here, too.
Something slightly weird: in Harry Potter, the House Points are counted in these giant magic hourglasses, right? Rubies for Gryffindor, emeralds for Slytherin, sapphires for Ravenclaw, and topaz for Hufflepuff. Is it just me, or did they first appear in the video game? I don't remember them at all in the books, until Order of the Phoenix or so, when all the houses except Slytherin lose points because the Inquisitorial Squad dock points indiscriminately.
I also had a dream where I was a Hogwarts student, and we had to use a healing spell on a goose. I think they were actually white ducks, because of their size, but we called them geese. Ron picked his up and was stroking it, they were so cute.
There's a translation for a Nocturne gag manga. More than a few comics make fun of Ayakashi Monthly; my favorite is the ad for a good luck charm that Chiaki is conned into almost buying.
I found a manga that had a similar premise to this story (or at least what I think is the premise). Matsuena Syun, author of History's Strongest Disciple Kenichi, wrote three different oneshots, one about a ninja, one about a sorcerer, and one about a robot, and then revealed that they were all in the same class on the last page. I think that's very cool.
The Digital Devil Story novels did not take place in this story. Yumiko and Nakajima live in this universe, but whatever turn of events that led Nakajima to demon summoning never occurred. This is because the world goes to hell as a result of them screwing up; Circle of the Moon and Strange Journey can fit in because they contain the threat and maintain the veneer of a status quo where this story is set. I'm not including them, but that's just because I haven't played them.
When I hear the name Dracula, I think of the Castlevania version. But my favorite Dracula is a tossup between the Billy and Mandy version and the Dead and Loving It version. One day, I'm going to have some character complain about changes made to a movie adaptation of some book, and compare it to 'putting cowboys in Dracula'.
Digimon is cool, and while I don't see it as a Pokémon clone anymore, I can now see that the Megaten influence is very strong. One new game takes the theory that Digimon and the Digital World always existed, and computers are merely the newest gateway; shamans and occultists could previously summon Digimon. Cool idea, but Megaten still did it first.
I beat the SNES game Treasure of the Rudras, and what I liked most about it was how it saved a helping of plot for after the final boss. I tend to lose interest in games right before the final boss, because I've met everyone and know all the plot by then. This game didn't reveal the motivations of the final boss and her team until after you beat her, so I didn't just beat her to end the story, I beat her to continue the story.
If you want to try it, I made two big mistakes. First, the spell system lets you write your own spells, or Mantras. You're given a few at the start, but I screwed up and thought you could only rewrite the ones already given; turns out you can write new ones in the blank spaces. Second, you are given three simultaneous scenarios to play through; I tried playing them all at once, so I forgot who was doing what and why.
So Dx2 is putting Berserk in it? Odd, but okay. I think they're going out of their way to avoid Persona, because they want to make a unique identity as a mainline Megaten game. But if they need money, they'll put in P5.
I think the event plots that parallel other Megaten games are cool, but I want event plots that intersect with those games. The whole Asura plot had Digital Devil Saga written all over it, but would it have killed them to include the Embryon? Even some acknowledgement that they'd participated in a previous cycle would be okay. This SMT2 plot, with a cult that wants salvation through a Messiah, it could at least imply that this girl is one of Aleph's incarnations.
I haven't played Tokyo Mirage Sessions, so I don't have any strong feelings about it. I don't want to jump on the hate or hype trains based on hearsay. I'm surprised it made it into Fire Emblem Heroes, though. Now I want more Megaten.
One of my friends once said that you shouldn't blame a movie for not living up to its potential; nothing can compare to the movie of your imagination. I think that's valid advice for professional critics, like criticizing a dinner dish for not being dessert, but everyone laments unexplored ideas. Here's the SMT/FE crossover of my imagination.
In the distant future of the Fire Emblem-verse, it's the modern era. The Outrealm Gates are commonplace, so other worlds are like other countries. Suddenly, bad things happen! Now the main characters must unlock the power of Persona to save the worlds, but this time, the theme is 'real historical figures' (i.e. Fire Emblem characters).
For extra irony, different people have the same historical figure interpreted different ways. To make things even more fun, the Outrealms also allow visits between parallel universes where the player chose different paths, so all three Fodlan Lords get three different popular interpretations each, and some countercultural deviations.
If that's not enough Megaten characters for you, this is an alternate universe where for some reason all the Megaten party members (plus the Nocturne NPC humans) all live in the same city, and you choose which of the heroes you play as, with the unpicked ones doing their own thing in the background, a la Three Houses (or a la carte).
The Hero of SMT1's starting Persona is Finn, because they were sent away from a disaster that killed everyone they knew. The Chaos Hero gets Karel as the Sword Demon who desires power, but someone wiser gets Karel the Sword Saint. Walter would get Arvis the revolutionary, but so would the Bishop (from SMT2) because of Arvis's oppressive regime. Hallelujah gets Lachesis, because she's a healing Est archetype. Navarre (of SMT1) would be a perfect fit for Illios the arrogant nobleman-wannabe. Everyone assumes that the person with Hilda is a monster until she assures them that she has the nice Hilda. And some poor sap gets Glenn, and has to explain who Glenn is every time he meets a new person.
Not much of a spoiler, but the cult's symbol in Castlevania season 3 looked a lot like the hiragana character ma from the side. So until I saw it clearly on a wall, I was wondering why these Wallachians knew Japanese. Also, Poland and Lithuania show up on a map! My inner Hetalia fangirl trembles in excitement.
This list of who knows what reminds me of a recurring joke from the webcomic Bob and George, the classic Mega Man sprite comic. My favorite instance is when the titular Bob shows up in Dr. Wily's lair, destroys his robot, insults him, threatens him into evil, and starts to explain the evil plan… and then after several strips of this, Dr. Wily asks who he is. Both are major villains, but up until that point, they've only spoken once, several years ago in-universe, and through a security feed. I like it when the author keeps track of little things like that.
Nicknames, aliases, etc:
Agents Lily, Dragon, and Reaper are Jun Kurosu, Lisa Silverman, and Eikichi Mishima, from Persona 2. Aside from each other, no one has been confirmed to know both their real names and aliases.
Madam Pain is the Heroine of SMT1, here named Aoi Miyama. Only Naoki has been confirmed to know both her real name and alias.
Who Knows What:
Kazuya knows that Soma is the reincarnation of some wizard, and that the Agency is in town, but not why they're there. He knows that demon summoning is illegal, but not that the Agency is after him.
Aoi knows that Naoki is a demon, and that the Agency is in town. She thinks they're here to generally keep the peace, not for a specific case.
Soma and Mina know that Yoko and the Agents are in town for a specific case (but not what it is), Julius Belmont is in town (but not why), and Kazuya is a demon summoner from a parallel universe (who is in town because of school).
Naoki knows about Aoi's double life as Madam Pain, that she knows magic, and she's from a parallel world. He also knows that the Agency is in town. He also discovered new information from Kazuya and Soma which will be summarized below.
The Agency knows that a demon summoner is in town, and are searching for them. Yoko knows that Soma was present last night.
As far as anyone knows, Julius doesn't know anything, other than that Soma, Mina, and Kazuya were on the mountain.
Spanner in the Schemes
"It is impossible to fully predict the actions of another, especially someone you do not know. Dropping hints, bargaining from a position you are merely feigning to hold, and bribery can be effective, but many times can lead to the opposite effect. And if you know someone well enough to manipulate them, then why would you betray them?!"
-Diary of Leon Belmont. It is believed that the incident alluded to in the last line was when his older brother locked him in a room filled with frogs under the pretext that it was a bakery
Naoki was a light sleeper. The ability to quickly respond to any threat was of great importance in a world where murdering random bystanders was an easy way to gain status; killing was good enough for the Mantra, and Nihilo prided themselves on sneakily catching people unawares.
This skill was also a hinderance in college life, when sleep was almost as coveted as Magatsuhi; the only difference as far as Naoki could tell was that he'd never seen a student murder another student to steal their sleep (but they'd all heard that urban legend of _(name of celebrity) murdering _(name of celebrity) because the latter would not stop _(verb ending in -ing) when the former was trying to sleep, and how _(adjective) it was of them).
Naoki had heard Soma and Kazuya's entire conversation, and it was obvious that they were hiding something. He already had the gist of it; they had climbed partway up a mountain, then Kazuya attacked some people (which was bad for them), they did not cut anyone's head off, and Yoko Belnades from the Agency knew that they were there. Also, Soma was friends with Yoko?
Say, Aoi, what was that you said about the underground community? It didn't exist, you said?
Soma looked like a deer caught in headli… No, his eyes were dilated (and a little baggy around the edges) and his heart was racing, but he had the vacant, dumb expression of someone who was thinking too hard to look dignified.
Kazuya's face turned into a wall of stone (metaphorically, not metamorphically). Technically, he had a pretty good poker face; not even Naoki could read his expression when he locked it up. Except he only used this face when he had something to hide, so it was a dead giveaway whenever Naoki asked who used his soap or ate his chocolate fudge cake.
Naoki's eye flitted to Soma's alarm clock. "…We've been sitting here for five minutes. You do know that staring at me isn't going to make me go away?"
Kazuya glared at him. "Give us one good reason why we should tell you what we were doing."
"I have the ear of the Agency," said Naoki airily. If there was anything he learned from dealing with Mantra, Nihilo, Manikins, and all those tiny clubs of demons who dreamt of one day being a real faction, it was that name-dropping could backfire if he explicitly stated allegiance. "And I know where to find Yoko Belnades." Come on, ask me to prove it…
This did not have the desired effect on Soma. "Okay, but do you know why she knows me?" he asked, barely keeping the nervous crack out of his voice.
Naoki shook his head. Waste of a business card. "All right, I don't know that. But I know who she is, and I know what the Agency is." He took in a deep breath. "I already know demons are real. You don't need to hide from me."
Soma and Kazuya exchanged a look. Then they both spoke at the same time.
"In our third year of high school, I—"
"You do realize that we're not hiding this from you because of demons, right?"
Then Soma and Kazuya looked at each other again. "I thought we were sharing again," said Soma.
Kazuya crossed his arms. "Tell him your story if you want, but I told you mine in confidence." He turned to Naoki. "So you know about demons. Good, now we don't have to pretend they don't exist around you. Again, why should we tell you what we did last night?"
Naoki opened his mouth, and was smacked with a sudden revelation.
One of the worst feelings in the world is the knowing that the person you look down upon thinks just as little of you. Nothing gets to a dictator like the mockery of the proletariat, the refusal of unwanted advice infuriates blowhards, and many a queen bee is driven to incandescent rage by the very idea that the outcast girls might not want to be in her posse. Naoki was at the top of the food chain, the Demi-Fiend who bested gods and rose above all others in a ruined world, and yet these two humans had the gall to refuse his help?
Because these two dabblers don't see the Demi-Fiend. They think they're the pros, and I'm the naïve rookie thrown in with them to compare how far they've come.
Then I'll show them. Lift the bed with one hand, using the bedpost. Humans my size can't do that.
No. What does that get me? I'd know more about some stupid shenanigans, but they'd know I'm a demon. They're just going to see me as a monster or a tool. He paused. I mean, not like an idiot, someone they can use.
That can be an idiot.
Since when was I afraid of what other people thought of me? This is exactly what Aradia was talking about! I was fine when the ghosts and Manikins thought I was a monster!
No, I wasn't. Aradia's question was if I could walk my own path without fear of ridicule. I am afraid, but I could endure their hatred because I knew I was doing the right thing. Is it really worth it to break the peace between roommates just out of idle curiosity?
And jealousy.
I'm not jealous!
If I truly didn't care about mockery, I'd tell them. This isn't peace; we just don't argue because we don't talk.
No. That's how I think someone who isn't afraid of mockery would behave, not what I think.
On the other hand, would they tell me even if they knew how strong I was?
Then Naoki looked at Soma's slightly guilty expression, and realized the more immediately pertinent reason: If I were them, I wouldn't tell the guy who bragged about his cop connections about how I assaulted a bunch of people last night.
"Never mind," said Naoki. "It's none of my business."
A look of surprise flitted across Kazuya's face. Soma just looked relieved.
"You know, I figured you'd threaten us," said Soma.
Naoki swallowed.
Sheathe the claws, show the belly. You can't win this one with strength, Naoki; weakness is the best weapon against their guilt and shame. Naoki tried his best to shrink and look harmless.
Soma blinked, flustered. "I mean, not that I think you'd try to kill us," he said, gesturing to Naoki's tiny frame. "But… um…"
Kazuya crossed his arms. "I would be lying if I said I wasn't expecting a 'because my plasma sword says so'," he finished flatly.
"Exactly." Soma blinked and stared at Kazuya. "You had plasma swords? I thought it was more of a…" Kazuya glared at him. "Shutting up now."
"Tell that to the robots," grumbled Kazuya.
"…Now you're just messing with me."
"Not as much as the psychic did with…" Kazuya's throat clenched for a moment, "the political prisoners."
Soma gave Kazuya an odd look, but Kazuya said nothing else, so Soma turned back to Naoki. "Anyways, if he's not telling you anything, I will. Back in our third year of hi—"
Naoki's back stiffened. "No, don't!" Naoki yelped. Soma blinked at the sudden volume, and Naoki shrunk back. "I… I really don't want to talk about how I found out that demons were real."
"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to?" said Soma, brow slightly furrowed.
Kazuya stared at Naoki intensely, as if the answers to next week's math test were written on his forehead. "You don't want to owe him," he said in a voice so certain it sounded like a bluff.
He's right, though.
Naoki nodded silently.
Wait, something feels familiar about this…
Soma nodded. "No pressure. We're here if you're ever ready."
Naoki slumped with relief.
"But if you ever do anything to betray our trust, remember that I know where you sleep," said Kazuya curtly.
"Kazuya!" snapped Soma.
Kazuya crossed his arms and did not apologize.
An awkward silence fell, broken only by the sound of rain.
"So, uh… want to come investigate the headless body case with us?" offered Soma. Kazuya shot Soma a glare, which he ignored. "I mean, we're still not telling you what we were doing, but I swear we didn't kill anyone."
Kazuya shook his head. "If he joins, I'm out."
"Come on, he's—"
"Remember the discussion Mina and I had last night?" said Kazuya icily. He and Soma held eye contact for a few moments, as if there was some kind of eye-based telepathy going on.
Who's Mina, again?
One of their girlfriends, I think.
"…Right," said Soma in a quiet voice. He turned back to Naoki. "I'm sorry, but we can't bring you along."
"It's fine," said Naoki. It's for the best; I have secrets of my ow— "I'll drop the subject for 652 yen."
The words were out before Naoki could take them away.
"Done," said Kazuya, dropping three two-hundred pieces, one fifty-piece, and two one-pieces into Naoki's waiting hand.
Soma just cocked his head and said, "Why?"
All right, now I have lunch money. Why did I do that aga…?
Wait. This feels familiar. What did Aoi say last night?
No, she's not the only one who's done… this…
A negotiation with threats as currency. Bribery as a normal and accepted part of the routine. Treating the little demon with pity, but ready to pounce if it attacks.
"…Holy cow, you're a demon summoner."
Naoki had to admit, Kazuya was good. His face barely even changed. Soma, on the other hand, had a face that would give away anything… if Naoki could tell if his guess was right on the money, or if was simply shocked at the audacity of the accusation.
"If you give me a Life Stone, I'll never bring it up again," said Naoki quickly.
Kazuya's hand twitched. "I don't have any Life Stones," he said in a tone so carefully level you could have built a skyscraper on it. Cold anger burned in his eyes… no, not anger, but annoyance that could easily turn into anger if Naoki said the wrong thing…
There were many roads of demon negotiation, and all had dangerous pitfalls if the road chosen did not match the demon's personality, current mood, level of strength, hobbies, relationships, alignment, allegiances, etc. But if anything was worse than striding confidently onto the wrong path, it was attempting to hop between paths midwalk. A sudden shift in attitude indicated that the negotiator was attempting to charm the demon with a fake personality, which was often punishable by death (and while the Nihilo liked trickery, they despised incompetent tricksters even more than meatheads).
I am the tiny, naïve apprentice in over his head, eager to court these strong veterans and quick to appease their anger. Naoki thought to himself. I am a squirrel seeking the aid of hawks. I am a mouse amusing cats. I am…
"I don't mind telling you this, though," said Naoki. Quick, quick, something harmless… "I used to be a demon summoner, too."
Naoki mentally patted himself on the back. A demon that commands other demons, that's scary. But a human summoner without his summons, well, we've all played Final Fantasy. Nothing's more harmless than a black mage out of spell slots after a long grind. What can I do, throw stuffed animals at them?
Soma blinked. "Used to be a demon summoner?" he repeated. "How do you stop being one?" He turned to Kazuya. "Can you break contracts? I mean, without losing your soul for breach of contract."
Naoki shook his head. "No, contracts are still there, just…" Naoki paused. "I ran out of Magatsuhi, and I don't know how to make more."
The first part wasn't a lie. Magatsuhi was plentiful in the Vortex World. The very air was saturated with it; there wasn't so much that the Reason factions hadn't hatched schemes to acquire more, but there was always enough for the bottom rung of demons to subsist upon indefinitely, and stronger demons could eat the weaker ones. In this world, however, most of the Magatsuhi had been consumed in the process of Creation, which left the Amala Network (tampering with the debug room of reality was not something to try at home), stockpiles left by cults (of which he had only found one), and humans (no). Naoki wasn't sure why he alone didn't need any Magatsuhi to live, but he was grateful that he hadn't needed to steal any.
Kazuya raised one eyebrow. "What is Magatsuhi?"
Naoki blinked. "You know, Magatsuhi, the source of a demon's powers. You need it to form their bodies, or else they turn into Slimes?"
"Ah. We call it Magnetite," said Kazuya. He raised an eyebrow. "Do you truly not know how Magnetite is produced, or are you simply afraid to tell us?"
"Why would I be afraid?" asked Naoki in a forced, airheaded voice of confusion.
Kazuya's whole body unstiffened, in a way that suggested a martial artist loosening for a strike rather than real relaxation. "Magnetite is harvested from dead bodies."
Naoki choked as the memory of wet clay, cold stone, and blood filled his nostrils. "You killed people for it?"
The atmosphere in the room warmed about ten degrees (Celsius). All three roommates spoke at once.
"I mean, the general you, I'm not accusing you you of mur—" Naoki began.
"I refuse to speak another word," said Kazuya sharply.
"Are you telling me there's another way?" said Soma.
Another awkward pause, broken by thunder crashing in the distance.
Soma sighed, and muttered something in Spanish. "All right, let's talk this one out before we murder each other in our sleep. Naoki, Kazuya got his Magnetite by killing other demons instead of huma—wow, that sounds racist now that I say that out loud." He cleared his throat. "The point is, it wasn't a 'kidnapping virgins and sacrificing them to the Dark Lord on an altar' kind of deal. His Magnetite came from demons that he killed in self-defense."
Ah. That, Naoki could deal with. You couldn't survive in the Vortex World without being a little okay with killing. Naoki liked to think that his conscience was still intact, but it still had patches of duct tape with labels such as 'unless it's self-defense' and 'only if they went too far' scrawled in marker.
Soma tilted his head to the side. "And I assume that you have some idea of how to make it, otherwise you wouldn't have known that nobody died for your version. Is this a 'I know the math behind a radio but not how to make one' kind of deal, or do you not want to tell us because it's something horrific and you don't want us to try?"
Locks and chains, mirage in the mirrors, the spoon of the condemned, fear and pain, fear and pain, fearandpainfearandpainand—
Soma nodded sympathetically. "You don't have to say anything if you don't want to."
"And how did you acquire yours?" asked Kazuya sharply. Soma shot Kazuya a nasty look.
Naoki froze. "…I stole it from another summoner," he lied. "He's dead now."
Silence filled the room, a yearning, aching silence just begging for a real excu—
Soma looked Naoki in the eye, and nodded. "Then we won't ask."
Naoki could have hugged Soma.
And of course, Kazuya had to ruin the moment. "Unless it's an emergency, I won't lend you any Magnetite. Other than corpses, the only other way to summon is to—"
Naoki choked. "There's another way?"
Kazuya blinked. "Yes. The only other way I know of is allowing the demon to drain your life force," he said. "It doesn't cause any permanent damage, but it will incapacitate you for a while, so it's only useful if you don't intend on doing anything else that day. Have you tried it?"
Naoki shook his head, shudders returning. Life force draining. He's figured out the difficult part; what if he decides he's too important to be drained?
"Anyways, if you can accept that I am a demon summoner, then I have no objections to having you on the team," said Kazuya. He extended his hand. "Welcome aboard."
Naoki blinked, but did not take it. "That's it? I thought the big secret would be something like you secretly being the Demon King or kicking puppies for fun."
Soma and Kazuya looked at each other, as if Naoki had innocently emailed the professor about the date of the exam, only to discover that it would end in twelve minutes. "How well do you know the Agency, again?" asked Soma.
Naoki said nothing.
Soma shrugged. "Long story short, the Agency never got past the 'virgin chained to rocks' phase of demon summoning."
"Meaning?"
"They still think demon summoning requires human sacrifice, so if you can summon a demon, you just signed your name on a smoking gun," said Kazuya, crossing his arms.
Naoki blinked. "But if you proved that you don't need human sacrifice, wouldn't you get off on lack of evidence?"
"We could," said Kazuya in an aggressively toneless voice. "I just don't trust the system."
"That seems like a flimsy excuse," said Naoki.
"You've obviously never been to prison," grumbled Kazuya.
Naoki decided not to tell him about the time he was arrested and sentenced to death by trial by combat for trespassing.
"And even if we trusted The Man not to kill him immediately, we'd have a hell of a time trying to prove it, especially since there aren't that many places we can find and legally kill demons," said Soma. "Plus, legal fees."
"Aren't you a law major?" said Naoki.
"Aren't you a physics major?" said Soma, crossing his arms. "Can you make me a particle accelerator?"
Naoki flicked an eraser at him in response.
"…All right, I walked into that one," said Soma. He raised an eyebrow at Kazuya. "Any other questions?"
"None," said Kazuya.
Soma turned back to Naoki. "And you?"
Naoki shook his head.
"In that case, if it's all the same to you, I'm going back to sleep," said Soma, flopping onto his bed and snuggling his pillow.
Kazuya sighed wearily. "Soma. We still need to discuss the ne—"
And then the alarm on Kazuya's phone went off. "…All right, we'll do this after class."
"Have fun in physics," grumbled Soma, waving vaguely.
"Will do," said Kazuya, picking up his toothbrush and toothpaste. "I have a break at 11:30. We can coordinate a meetup later." He strode out the door, presumably to the communal bathroom.
"Oh, right," grumbled Soma, picking up his phone. "Gotta tell Mina we're okay."
He pulled the covers over him again, leaving Naoki to sit, stare at the rain, and push back the creeping wave of shame and hypocrisy.
I hated being in the dark. What gives me the right to hide the truth? If I were in their place, I would—
No. It's not the same. It wasn't not knowing that I hated, it was that everyone around me was taking advantage of my ignorance. Besides, my life doesn't concern them. I'm not endangering them by keeping mum; it's not like I have any more enemies that can show up out of nowhere and hold them hostage.
Wait, what if they were in the same mountain as me and Aoi?
If I hurt them, then they'd have a right to know.
Could they already know, and they're just waiting for me to blink? Naoki shuddered at the thought.
While it would be foolish to dismiss the theory, it would be even more foolish to assume it to be true and allow it to cloud my judgement. After all, paranoia only hu—
"Aren't you two in the same class?" said Soma from atop his bunk.
Naoki froze. "…Thanks," he said, gathering his backpack and checking if his homework was still there (it was).
X
Soma lay in bed, waiting for sleep to take him into its embrace. His souls were given strict instructions to not interrupt his sleep unless it was an emergency, and they mingled somewhere outside the range of awareness.
Still, he couldn't calm his own soul by just yelling at it to knock it off and stop thinking. Naoki, a summoner? It was all just so hard to process. It hadn't taken long for him to deal with the whole soul-devo—soul-absorbing thing (eating souls implied digesting and destroying them, and Soma's souls were still alive and kicking, thank you very much), which was rather suspicious in hindsight, and the whole Dracula thing was just… well, sure, it was a gut-wrenching ball of anxiety, but at least he'd understood it right away. Kazuya, too, made some amount of sense. He had only known his roommate for a little less than a year, but as far as he could tell, Kazuya had the sort of cold, stubborn, aloof personality that came naturally to dark magic users. All he needed was a black longcoat and a sword (Soma wasn't sure where he got that idea, but he blamed video games).
Naoki, on the other hand, was the opposite of an evil wizard. Some college freshmen (the American term was so much more descriptive than just 'first-year') had entered the gates of Haruhata University looking like the adults playing college students in low budget frat boy movies, but most still looked like they were still in high school. Naoki had the dubious honor of still looking like a high school freshman (which in Japan was a third-year middle school student).
Not that height was the be-all and end-all; as the tallest person in almost any given room, Soma knew better than anyone that you didn't need to be taller than someone to be intimidating. But Naoki didn't just have a small stature, he had a small… no, small implied petty. Small personalities sniped and whined; Naoki's was more of an affable background type who'd rather roll over than face a problem. Soma had lost count of the times where he'd had to stand up to Daisuke for him.
Soma paused. Was that really weakness? Sure, Naoki let himself be pushed around by Daisuke, but he'd never seemed particularly upset by it. Soma was never very good at talking to people, but he could usually get a good read on them. Most people who let themselves be pushed around by bullies were upset about it, even if they tried to convince themselves that they were fine; the way Naoki treated Daisuke's demands was less like the bootboy scrambling to please his master and more like a man watching television letting his cat sit on his head.
I guess that after whatever happened to him, it just didn't matter, he thought to himself. He rolled over and squished against the wall. On the other hand, he obviously did something shady to get his hands on Magnetite. Maybe he's letting Daisuke punish him for it?
Oh well. Speculation's fine, but no conclusions yet.
Soma rolled over again. Poor guy. Probably for the best that he didn't come along.
Soma added another blanket, snuggled against his pillow, and—
Then he sat up. "The ghost!"
Last night, with the ghost…
The ghost was a knight from the late eleventh century, by the make of his armor. The knight was quite handsome, and it struck him that the ghost looked around the same age as him, if not younger. This took Soma slightly aback; intellectually, he knew that skilled squires could be knighted around eighteen, but he'd always imagined knights to be older than him. It was a lot like how he'd spent most of his childhood thinking that he would have adventures like Harry Potter when he was older, until he rewatched Prisoner of Azkaban and realized that he had passed that age long ago (and his adventures in magic castles weren't nearly as fun). Or when he realized that every female villain in children's anime who complained whenever the heroes called her an old lady (or oba-san instead of onee-san) really wasn't that old; the infamous Doronjo was only 24, and at 19 years old, Soma was closer to Maddy's age (Ms. Madd? Iroya Madoi?) than Lan Hikari and friends.
At first glance, the ghost could have been taken for a teenage cosplayer, but the more Soma saw, the more certain he was that this was the genuine article. It wasn't so much the accuracy of armor as much as how he wore it; cosplayers poured hours and hours of painstaking work into their costumes, and the ones Soma knew quite understandably treated their costumes like they were made of sugar glass. This knight seemed completely at ease in the heavy, thick armor; he was perched cross-legged on an ugly Ottoman (why did he think there was a joke there?), sword at his hip, elbows on knees, and chin resting on his palm. He was not without dignity or care; rather, it was like he knew he was wearing a quality piece of armor that wouldn't break or stain just by sitting on a soft cushion.
Apparent age aside, Soma knew that he'd never seen a ghost as old as him before; the ghosts in Castlevania (at least, the ones that retained their shapes) only went back as far as the fifteenth century, the ones in Celia's castle dated back to the seventeenth, and Soma had never seen any ghosts outside of those castles.
So why did Soma's chest feel like it was going to burst at the sight of him?
The ghost spoke, but no sound came out.
"Wait, I can't hear you," said Soma, holding up a hand. "Let me try something…"
Maybe I can hear him if I'm a little more ghostly. Soma switched from Paranoia (why was a mirror demon called Paranoia, anyway?) to Ghost, but to no avail. Maybe I should try actively channeling your power?
What does that mean?
Casting one of your spells.
Go for it!
No, suddenly fainting would alarm Kazuya and I'd rather not summon a spirit that keeps breaking things. Something like a passive ability… Ghost Dancer? He switched Peeping Eye out for Ghost Dancer.
The lights dimmed, but the ghost was still there. The ghost's color had faded, leaving a glowing silhouette of white and blue. Soma nodded to the ghost, and the ghost's lips moved, but this time with sou—
"Howdy! How're y'all doin' on this very fine evenin'?"
Soma blinked. And stared.
If there was anything that got on Soma's nerves, it was people making assumptions about where he was from and what language he spoke. Yes, he was six foot six (or 198 cm) and had white hair, but that didn't mean he couldn't understand what the old men and women on the bus muttered about tourists. Yes, he took after his Japanese mother, but that didn't mean that the principal could ask him how he was liking America (although to be fair, he was a freshman, it was October, and that was the week with the Japanese exchange students), or that he couldn't get an effortless A in Spanish.
So it shouldn't have been a problem that this medieval knight, with his shiny armor and floor-length embroidered surcoat (A/N the cloth worn over armor), spoke English like a rustic but charming Texas farmhand from an old Western.
Because obviously, real knights from the 11th century didn't speak English as anyone without a degree in history or linguistics would recognize, and weren't knights basically cowboys? And the one-size-fits-all RP accent was just as unrealistic as any other dialect that English could spit out, especially since this knight was French, and everyone knew how much the English and French hated each other.
"Wait, what?" Soma said back in English.
The knight tilted his head to the side. "If I spoke Japanese, would you be happy?" he said slowly.
Despite being impossible, a medieval knight speaking any dialect of Japanese was less disorienting than the Texan dialect of English. Perhaps it was because it broke the suspension of disbelief so hard it made sense; in, say, a mafia movie, it would be jarring to see the Italian Don speak English in a Japanese accent, but if he and everyone else spoke Japanese, it just meant that the movie was dubbed in Japanese.
But he spoke just a little too slowly not to check. "If you definitively assert that the level of your comprehension is adequate, we shall converse in the tongue that I am using to communicate with thee."
When Leon took too long, Soma shook his head. "If you couldn't understand that, don't trouble yourself on my account," he said in English.
The ghost knight sighed in relief. "Thank you."
"You're welcome," said Soma. "Now who are you and why are you here?"
The ghost knight looked surprised for a moment, but sighed. "Ah guess you jus' can't recall. It's a damn shame, but Lord knows what you've been through." He cocked his head to the side, and said, "Under the current circumstances, do you or do you not understand the essence of the vocalizations I am currently enunci—"
"Just get to the point, Leon," snapped Soma.
Leon smiled. "I see you're not completely gone then, Mathias. This tongue was last spoken in the lands of the Franks seven hundred years ago." [1]
Soma froze. Then he remembered that Kazuya was there. "I kn—I know it looks wei—"
"Dook," said Kazuya.
"Dook?" Soma repeated.
"Ghost."
Soma blinked. "You can see him?"
"No," said Kazuya. His head drooped some more. "I'll give you the four one one later. I'm sure you and your choodessny droog are having a lovely chat, but I'm right fashed and in need of a cheest, and I'm sure you are, too."
Soma thought he got this gist of this, and said to the ghost in English, "You're not bound to anything, right? It's late, and my friend needs help. Could this wait until tomorrow? I live in a dorm, so could you please wait for me on the roof?"
The ghost knight nodded. "Meet me when you're free. I can wait a little longer."
[1] This language is Old French. According to Wikipedia, it was spoken between the eighth and fourteenth centuries AD. The ghost's date is incorrect because he's not a linguist, and uses different standards.
X
The rain had stopped, but its earthy scent was still drifting on the morning winds. The ghost floated at the edge of the roof, staring out at the city beyond.
"I'm sorry I'm late," said Soma in English, pushing open the door to the roof. The knot of emotion was gone, leaving behind a nagging emptiness.
The ghost turned to face him, and to Soma's surprise, he looked at least ten years older. He'd grown a short, scruffy beard, swapped his knightly armor for a cloak and tunic that looked like it had started expensive until it was patched over and over with rags, and sported a necklace of what looked like dulled monster teeth and claws. He was as colorless as ever, but Soma could make out spectral tears on his cheeks. "Do you know me?" he asked softly in Old French.
Soma stared. Do any of you kn—?
NO!
Every soul shouted the word at once, making Soma jump.
What we mean is, you need to figure this one out yourself, said a Succubus more gently, worry seeping into her voice like a china shop owner with one eye on the elephant.
Trust us on this one. You'd never forgive us if we interfered, said a Quetzalcoatl.
The rest of his souls bobbed vaguely in agreement, leaving Soma to stare at the ghost and sort out his oddly painless heart.
"I… I have seen you before," Soma began in English. "Somewhere. I wouldn't have been be this upset if I didn't. But I don't know where I know you from or why I felt that way." He took a deep breath. "I don't know you. I'm sorry."
The ghost looked at him slightly askance, and let out a sigh of relief. "In that case, some introductions are in order," he said with a slightly strained smile. "My name is Leon Belmont. What's yours?"
"Soma Cruz," said Soma, and then he stopped. "Wait, Belmont?" He backflipped to the top of the roof access enclosure (the thing that covers the stairs) and dropped into a crouch. Bat Company, get ready.
The flock of bat souls chirped their affirmative.
Leon merely shook his head. "Peace, friend. I'm not here to fight. I know who you were, and I do not…" he choked on the words. "You are no longer my…"
Soma cocked his head to the side. "Did… did I do something? If I did, I'm so sor—"
Leon held up a hand. "You have nothing to apologize for." His tone was trying to be final, but he couldn't quite stifle the sorrow in his voice.
Soma dropped from the enclosure and walked closer to Leon. "…Do you want to talk about it?" asked Soma gently.
Leon stepped back. "I… I cannot," he said.
"But you want to," said Soma.
Leon nodded.
"Why can't you?"
Leon sat down. "My connection to your past life is… deep," he said. "It would not be wise to stir up those memories."
Soma nodded. "I suppose that's for the best," he said, sitting down with him, avoiding the puddles. "But you're not all right, are you?"
Leon said nothing. He didn't need to.
"No one else can see or hear you, can they?" said Soma. "Not our miko, not your descendant. Even I couldn't see you until I had ghost souls on me."
"Miko?" repeated Leon.
"Female pagan priest, and don't avoid the question," said Soma. "You bothered to learn English and Japanese for a reason."
The wind blew, casting ripples on the puddles.
"…Yes," admitted Leon at last. "The gift of true second sight is uncommon, and most of its bearers err on the side of zealous caution. You are the first person I've met in well over a hundred years who didn't try to attack me on sight."
Leon stood up. "That said, I must be going. I cannot sacrifice the world for my selfishness, old friend. Goodbye, and may God show you mercy."
With a running leap, Leon bounded over the fence, dropping out of sight.
"Leon!" Soma ran to the edge of the roof, but it was too late. Leon had vanished.
"…Why didn't he just walk through the fence?" he said to himself dumbly. "I mean, he's a ghost, isn't he?"
Oh well. If he doesn't want to talk, I can't force him. Might as well sleep this off.
Soma knelt down to switch his outdoor shoes for his slippers, sodden coat slapping the tiled ground like a rat's tail. He'd have to wring it out later, but for now, it could hang over an empty trash can while he slept. If it still wasn't dry by his first class, he could always layer his second-favorite jackets.
It never occurred to him that he'd only gone outside after the rain had stopped.
X
"I got the results back from the police," said Agent Wolf. "No records of this mystery person."
Agent Cowboy's grip on his stress ball tightened. "How is that even possible?"
"Because the government doesn't file the DNA of every single person in the country," said Agent Lily, dipping another teabag into his mug. "It's hard enough getting them to pay taxes."
"Or they've just never been caught," said Agent Ninja darkly, staring at her soda ominously.
"Eh, could be that, too," said Agent Dragon.
"What I'm interested in is that glowing stuff," said Agent Seal. He stood up. "We should take another look at it."
Agent Peony stood up. "N—no!" she yelped. "We have to follow proper lab protocol! What if it's another evil alien symbiote, or venom from the Spirit Platypus, or—or—it could be radioactive waste!"
Agent Dragon sighed. "Yeah, yeah, I know, but the Mysterious Glowing Liquid Safety Capsule™ takes up half the room."
They all shot dirty looks at the MGLSC™, which was about the size of a minivan flipped on its side.
"So… go check out the scene of the crime?"
X
Deserted places were hard to come by on a college campus. Everyone had their own little spot to study, play mobile games, or smoke surreptitiously. Rooftops, the park, the bell tower, and the common rooms were all terrible places to hold secret meetings.
So it was odd, but not unpleasant, to know that their dorm's basement was usually deserted.
"All right," said Mina, slamming a thick notebook at on the table. "We need to get our story straight by five tonight."
The call they had been dreading came at nine. Yoko had called Soma, as they expected, and arranged a meeting with him. Of course Mina was going to back him up, and Kazuya wasn't about to leave him out to dry after digging him into a hole. And while Julius was mostly blameless, he was coming because he wanted to know what was going on.
"Why do you have 'book plot' written on the cover?" asked Soma.
"Emergency plausible deniability," said Mina. "Anyone who reads this will think I'm writing a story, not blowing the cover on a massive conspiracy. Now then, we were drinking in this spot… where did you get the alcohol, Kazuya?"
Kazuya shrugged idly. "That shouldn't matter. If I were a real drunk teenager, I wouldn't sell out my vehina man."
"…I'm going to pretend that made sense," said Mina. "So, we got drunk, and it made sense for us at the time to climb a mountain. There's a route between here and here… just in case she can tap our internet history, let's say we already knew the route…"
X
The headless body wasn't even buried. It was just left to rot in the open air.
One of the less appreciated points of contention between the Cult of Gaia and the Order of Messiah regarded the treatment of the dead. The Gaians, in their pursuit of harmony between humanity and demonkind, proposed that after observing the rites of the deceased's choosing, whatever remained would be given to demons for consumption. The Messians found this sacrilegious; they buried their dead. Originally, they put them in graves as they were, but after too many incidents with zombies and scavenger demons, they cremated corpses and then buried the evidently unappetizing ashes in jars. The Gaians had mocked the dainty Messian sensibility at first, until a few skirmishes and executed prisoners later, when they discovered that desecrating corpses against their wishes was a good way to earn yourself vengeful ghosts.
Aoi had always paid her respects to the dead, even before she was born into the Messians. Back when she was the rebel leader, when she had thought of the Messians as some weird cult who sold stuff out of an admittedly well-decorated broom closet in the mall, she insisted that the bodies of the soldiers be given some sort of dues. Of course, this got her into a few arguments with Kazuya, who had demons to feed and a very Gaian outlook on corpses. The Aoi of back then hadn't been happy about his demons devouring the dead, but they were often too desperate.
In other words, it would have been… not fine, but at least understandable if the corpse were eaten, used as fertilizer, or reanimated as a zombie.
Both the Agents and the regular police were on the scene. Aoi could handle the Agents; most knew her by (fake) name, and they had gotten along well ever since they teamed up to fight flying robot sharks. Heck, her gang had even attended a few celebratory meals. But they didn't do so well with cops.
Which was why Aoi was a block away from the grassy hillside where the murderer had chosen to dump the body, safely perched under a tarp on top of a roof access enclosure (or whatever you called the shed that covered the staircase on a roof), wearing binoculars and testing out her lip-reading skills. At least, that was the plan, but she gave up after deciding that they wouldn't be talking about lobster eyes or suspicious cement mixers.
The fire escape rattled behind her. She silently uncoiled her jump rope in anticipation.
Beside her, on the rooftop proper, someone else had decided to spy. Rooftop maintenance people did not wear motorcycle helmets to work, and they did things like twiddle with the television aerials, not lie on their stomachs holding radios.
"Did you bug them?"
The person in the helmet jumped. "Who are you?"
"Someone ready blow both of our covers if you try anything," said Aoi.
"And I'm someone who is trying to listen, so please shut up."
Aoi gave him a thumbs-up, and continued to spy. Just because she couldn't hear anything didn't mean she couldn't understand what was going on. Yoko, the mercenary from last night, was lecturing some of the other agents, judging by the notes Agents Seal, Peony, and Cowboy were taking. Agent Lily had once again been selected to speak to the cops, as one of the more genial rookie agents. Agent Fireball was watching him, interjecting when necessary.
In short, everything was going more or less the way she predicted, and unless something significant happened in the next five minutes, this would have been a waste of time.
"Hey," said the person with the helmet. Aoi turned around. "I'll give you a copy of the recording if you lend me your binoculars."
"Deal," said Aoi, handing them over.
X
Magic is a lot like imaginary numbers. Most of math works just fine without it, and you can go your whole life without needing to use them, but once you shoehorn them into a problem, there's a whole new dimension of work.
Forensics did a good job, but the report was littered with 'as far as we could tell's and 'from what we could see's, like a witness trying very hard to avoid perjury. They couldn't find any obvious causes of death on the body, so they concluded that it was some kind of physical trauma on the head or neck—unless the Avada Kedavra curse was real. Several of them even asked if you could make someone's head explode with magic, to which Yoko said yes—but unless they found a wall or street littered with skull fragments and bits of brain but no gunpowder, that probably wasn't it.
She was on much firmer ground with the Agents, who were at ease with the idea of magic, and more importantly, appreciated that magic was a difficult art with so many conditions and preparations that spells could be traced with just knowledge and common sense.
"What can you tell us about this, Yoko?" asked Agent Seal, eyeing the unfortunate former Futsuo Suzuki.
"In terms of what?" said Yoko.
Agent Seal shrugged. "I don't know, what can you do with a severed head?"
Yoko shrugged. "Shrink it, put it on display, try to make a bowl out of the skull, anything. You can't rule out the crazed serial killer, or the delusional Satanist, or a cult that doesn't know what it's doing."
"Oh, we know what bored thrillseekers are doing," stretched Agent Cowboy. He leaned in closer, and whispered, "Half the Japanese-language ritual spells you find on the net are harmless placebos written by our plants. Most of them insist that magic prefers the sacrifice of something sentimental but nonliving, and if they found the ones that involves human sacrifice, the body would still have its head."
Yoko stiffened. "You told people on the internet how to kill someone?" she said, aghast.
Agent Cowboy shook his head. "If some psycho was going to kill someone for a magic ritual, they're not waiting for our permission. It's not entrapment; making them go on wild goose chases and telling them they can only kill their victims with an overly complicated stabbing motion while singing loudly in bad Latin just makes them easier to catch."
Yoko accepted this.
"Do you think Queen Bee is behind this?" asked Agent Seal.
Agent Peony's brow furrowed. "If it's uh… Queen Bee, why is it only the head this time?" she asked in a high, nervous voice. "Is it like homeopathy? Just the head works better than the whole thing?"
Yoko shook her head. "The head does contain the largest portion of the human body's magic. But a plurality is not necessarily a majority, and leaving the rest to rot is like only eating the eyes of a lobster. Whoever did this only needed the head."
"Are there any real magic rituals that only require the head?" asked Agent Seal. [2] "Like, necromancy?"
Yoko paused. "I've heard of necromancy rituals that work with just the skull. But necromancers rarely kill for… materials."
"Why not?"
"Murder attracts attention, and dark magicians know to cover their asses better than anyone else," said Yoko. "A summoner might need a fresh sacrifice, but a necromancer can just dig up a grave and be done with it. Not legal, but less illegal than murder. Of course, once necromancers are on firm ground, they can just go marauding around the countryside with their hordes of undead, but if that were the case, we'd be staggering under coordinated attacks."
Agent Peony looked confused for a moment, and then she blinked. "But aren't most graves filled with ashes, not bones?" he said.
Yoko blinked. "Oh. Right. Japan. Cremation isn't as ubiquitous overseas."
"So whoever did this had no choice but to kill," concluded Agent Peony.
Agent Cowboy slapped her on the back. "Think, idiot! Where else can you find skeletons?"
Agent Peony's eyes began to water at the edges. "…Doctor's offices?" she said, lip trembling.
Agent Cowboy buried his face in his hands. "Try again."
"The Museum of Natural History?" suggested Agent Seal.
"We're talking about the recently dead," said Agent Cowboy.
"…The bottom of the river?" hazarded Yoko.
"…Possibly, but unless you've seen a suspicious cement mixer, the best place to find a real, recent skeleton is a funeral home or crematorium," said Agent Cowboy.
Agent Seal shook his head. "I don't know, the crematorium's been ramping up security ever since some idiot stole those ashes."
Agent Peony wiped her eyes, and then blinked. "Hey, wait, what if this was a targeted killing?"
"Like, the culprit needed information or something?" said Agent Cowboy.
Yoko shook her head. "Necromancy can force the spirit to give up their secrets, but if you want information from a living person, killing them and summoning their spirit is inefficient. If I wanted information, I'd either bribe them or pull the old Black Van maneuver."
"And that is?" said Agent Cowboy.
"Kidnap them, tie them to a chair, and hit them with a wrench until they talk," said Yoko. It was an old favorite of her grandmother.
Agent Peony shook her head. "No, not information. If necromancy enslaves ghosts, do you think this could be an angry person torturing someone by ruining their afterlife?"
"That's possible," said Yoko.
"Huh," said Agent Cowboy, putting his hand on his chin. "Yeah, that'd work better than just kidnapping and torturing someone. Saves money on table scraps, and you don't have to worry about escape or waking the neighbors with screams."
Everyone turned to stare at him.
"What?" said Agent Cowboy defensively. "It's just a theory!"
"What's a theory?" Agent Dragon had broken away from Agent Fireball, Agent Lily, and the forensics officers.
"It's a structured hypothesis that may or may not have undergone rigorous scientific scrutiny, but that's not important right now," grumbled Agent Cowboy.
"We think the kidnapper is dabbling in necromancy," said Agent Seal.
"I wouldn't draw any conclusions yet," said Yoko levelly. "Do you have any news?"
"We misidentified the body," said Agent Dragon. "Turns out the wallet in his jacket was stolen from the real Futsuo Suzuki."
"And how do you know that?" asked Agent Cowboy.
"Officer Hirano called to tell his husband the bad news," said Agent Dragon. "Apparently, Sho Suzuki told him that Futsuo Suzuki was in the chair next to him, in the police station, waiting for Officer Matsui to file a report for a robbery."
"Was it for the wallet?" asked Agent Seal.
"It was for the wallet," sighed Agent Dragon. "And since it's now evidence, they're all arguing over who has to pay for Futsuo Suzuki's new driver's license."
"Oh," said Yoko, not really sure how to respond to that.
"Any luck on the necromancy front?" asked Dragon.
"Nothing certain," said Yoko. "Necromancy is possible, but there's no reason for it. And there's always the chance that it's just one part of the whole. I don't think it was a targeted killing for information, but we can't rule it out entirely."
"Guess we'll just have to wait for more crimes," said Agent Dragon bitterly.
"Ritual reconstructions are annoying," agreed Yoko, sitting down on a convenient bench. "It's like trying to guess someone's dinner from their grocery receipt."
Agent Peony blinked. "Um… this is going to sound stupid, but…"
"Then don't say it," grumbled Agent Cowboy.
"Anything you say is fine; go ahead," said Agent Seal encouragingly.
"Well, you know how the killer has to run away?" said Peony. "What if the killer can't run while carrying a whole body? I can't."
The Agents looked at each other.
"So… you're saying that even if it's more efficient to kill a few people and steal their corpses, it might be easier to kill lots of people and just take their heads?" said Agent Seal.
Agent Peony nodded. "Yeah! Heads only weigh five kilos! That's what I would do."
Yoko nodded grimly. If the killer had gone for the head out of convenience instead of a real ritual, that brought them all back to square one. Detective novels and the like were a lot like road trips; if clues were roads, it might not be immediately obvious which road led to The Truth, but at least the author was nice enough to stick to the highways and not bombard the reader with side roads, parkways, and cul-de-sacs. A real investigation was more like sailing using the classic 'go in a straight line until we bump into something' technique. These Agents could attest; they were like explorers who went out searching for silver, and instead found pineapples, cinnamon, and smallpox along the way.
And of course Soma had set off a flare gun over the red herring labeled 'Dracula'. He had better have a good reason for that.
[2] I don't know if there are any rituals that only require the head.
X
Aoi checked her watch. 11:43. Not cutting it close enough to necessitate roof-hopping practice, but not enough time to stop for a coffee and bun.
"Listen, I have to go," she said, crawling down the shed roof. "Can I please have the binoculars back?"
The person in the biker helmet handed them to her. "I'll give you a flash drive tomorrow," he said. "Can you meet me here at three-thirty in the afternoon?"
"Does four work?"
The person nodded. "Four is fine. Just get ready to be disappointed."
"Didn't have much to say?" said Aoi.
The person nodded.
Aoi shrugged. "You always know something about the case, even if it doesn't seem to be worth mentioning. Do you think it's a coincidence that we can see the body from here?"
The person turned to face her. "You think it was deliberate?"
"Of course," said Aoi. She pointed at the mountain. "The whole mountain's covered in forest, and the body's left on the grass? Someone wanted us to see this."
"I see what you mean," said the person, tilting his head. "We're next to a river. Body dumps should be easy."
Aoi shrugged. "I can see that as a temporary solution, but dead bodies float after a week." She scanned the skies for flying demons, while he watched the waves for swimmers. He yelped a warning, and she had charged her fingertips with lightning, but that dark patch in the water hadn't been surfacing demons ready to attack…
Electricity surged through her nerves, the same way normal people felt chills.
"Which would give the murderer plenty of time to skip town," said the person, jolting Aoi out of her memories.
"We can continue this discussion later," said Aoi, gracefully dropping down to the fire escape. "You have a name, by any chance?"
The person shook his head without looking back. "I can't tell you my real name, but you can call me Hawk."
"Madam Pain."
Hawk turned around; she didn't need to see his face to know he had a raised eyebrow. "Madam Pain?" he repeated.
"It wasn't my idea."
"Neither was Hawk," said Hawk.
"At least hawks are noble birds of prey."
"At least Madam is a real honorific," said Hawk. "Hawk is the surname network executives would give to the 'cool' and 'radical' alien-fighting teenager in an 80's tv show."
(In actuality, Hawk did not say this, because that connotation does not exist in Japanese. Instead, he compared the name Hawk to a random English word that Japanese network executives would name the token American member of a Sentai, like Antidifferentiation Washington or Fecundity McNinja).
"Network executives use Hawk because it brings to mind a majestic animal. Madam Pain brings to mind a…" Aoi trailed off. Hawk's face and voice were muffled by the helmet, so she couldn't tell how old he was.
"A buxom, whip-wielding sorceress who is the right-hand woman of Big Bad Evil Guy in that same 80s tv show?" said Hawk.
(This is more or less what Hawk had actually described).
"Yes," lied Aoi.
"Well, as long as you don't actually have a whip," said Hawk.
"And as long as you've never fought space aliens," said Aoi, her hand brushing against her belt. She checked her watch. "…And, I have to go."
She made it to class on time, although she had to get in a bit more roof-hopping practice than any proper lady should have been seen doing in a dress.
X
The accomplice had stopped shaking.
"Are you feeling better?" asked the murderer gently.
The accomplice slowly nodded, pulse racing and breaths a little too sharp, but some semblance of lucidity returning. Cold, clammy hands dipped themselves into steaming water, and slapped two sweaty cheeks.
"Is there anything I can do to help?" the murderer added. "More hot water? Another blanket?"
"…Stay," said the accomplice, gripping the pillow tighter. "Talk to me."
"About what?"
"Sunshine. Butterflies. Television. Anything."
The murderer paused. "I found a new crepe place just around the corner. It serves sweet and savory crepes."
"Describe it."
"It has a wood floor and blue plaster wa—"
"Describe the crepes," insisted the accomplice.
"They're… they're made fresh, and they're rolled in layers, from the center up. I had a chocolate banana crepe. The top layer is just banana, chocolate sauce, and crisp, well, crepe, but as you get closer to the center, they add whipped cream, yogurt, chocolate pastry cream, little chocolate chips, and chopped nuts. But it's so wet that by the time you get there, it all turns into a mush, like pea soup."
"Soup. Describe your favorite soup."
"My favorite soup… that's a tough one. I know it sounds strange, but it's like eating a swamp. A thick, warm swamp rich with vegetation, so thick it's halfway stew, but the meat is just there to flavor the vegetables. Green, leafy spinach, little round okra seeds that squish—"
The accomplice raised a hand. "Thank you. I feel better." The accomplice stood up, opened the curtains, and plopped right down in a patch of sunlight. "Ah… Can you see the rainbow?"
The murderer looked at where the accomplice was staring, but could see no rainbow.
"I suppose I owe you an explanation for all that," said the accomplice, drinking the piping hot tea the murderer had set out earlier.
"Rest a moment. Whatever that was, it—"
The accomplice waved off the murderer's sympathy. "I'm in shock, [REDACTED]. My brain is already wiping my memories from my conscious mind and shoving them all into my nightmares," The accomplice smirked mirthlessly. "Not that I have nightmares anymore."
"…I guess I am a little curious," said the murderer.
The accomplice tapped the floor, much like Selina testing her claws on the walls. "It… there was something scary. And evil."
"Scary and evil," repeated the murderer.
The accomplice nodded. "And… that felt wrong."
"Evil is wrong, you know," said the murderer.
"Don't patronize me. What's that thing you always say?"
The murderer decided that the usual witticism of 'Do you want leftovers or takeout for dinner' would be ill-advised. "Evil only exists in the hearts of men?" the murderer hazarded.
"Exactly. It didn't feel… sentient enough to be evil." The accomplice took another sip. "Anger, hatred, vengeance; those are unpleasant, but natural. Acting on those feelings are instinct. Evil's when you know they're wrong, but you do it anyway."
The murderer and the accomplice sat in silence as they contemplated their respective occupations.
"So what made you think it was evil?" said the murderer, breaking the silence.
"…Because it felt evil?" said the accomplice uncertainly.
"And what about it felt evil?"
The accomplice blinked. "Yeah, that is weird. It's… I just knew it was evil. Like… a TV show where you just know that the man in spiky black armor who laughs too much is evil."
"So… cartoonish supervillainy?"
"Without the villainy," said the accomplice, fluffing a pillow. "It's like when the film producers forget to make the evil empire do anything evil, or… you've read Ender's Game, right? Remember when Ender wins a match by capturing the objective before defeating the other team? That thing was as evil as that match was a victory."
The murderer shrugged. "Or just the shell of being evil without actually being evil."
"Yes. That. Exactly." The accomplice fumbled around for the sugar bowl, but knocked it over. "I think? Yes, I… no. I've lost it."
The murderer nodded solemnly. "Take it easy today. Do you want anything from the store?"
"Can I come with you?"
"Sure."
X
Naoki breathed again at last. The test passed. The last, pesky bug had been ironed out. Hours upon hours of laboring upon the sacrificial altar known as the Serpent had come to an end, and while the sun had hid behind the mountains in fear of the winter chill, there was time aplenty before the convenience store closed.
Selection sort was complete.
Naoki stood up and stretched. Time for some more diggi—
Is this really going to work?
Naoki stopped.
Talking to everyone worked in the Vortex World because it was a small world, after all. The factions moved in the open, any human was worthy of attention and rumor, and if anyone got in his way, he could just hit them until they talked. But he tried that here, he'd have the cops on his head faster than he could say 'Free Doughnuts'; while he had no doubt in his mind that he could kill them all with a single tap, murdering lots of people was not exactly conducive to the 'normal life' he had been craving so much.
If only I had someone who knew how to sear—
As if drawn by a garish neon sign on a foggy night, his eyes fell upon The Number. He shook his head immediately. No. Not him. I can't do that to him.
The Number wasn't written; that would be too obvious. He'd promised to himself that he'd never call, never hurt him in his selfishness, but the survivor in him couldn't let go. In every book he owned longer than a hundred pages (not the textbooks; those were rented), he dabbed a marking in the corners, made to look like an idle doodle. Space Ninjas from Canada was open on the thirty-first page, meaning the third number in the sequence was one, and if he flipped just—
He slammed the book shut. I shouldn't need to bother him for something like this.
And yet strength hasn't gotten me any closer.
He opened his laptop, typed in his password, and then searched for the school directory. Then he opened his email.
"Dear Aoi Miyama," he began. "I want to join your gang."
X
"Oh, hey? My number? You do realize that there aren't any cell phone towers anymore?"
"…"
"There's no going back to normal, kid. This is our life now."
"…! …"
"…I guess so. You're risking your butt out there while I'm in this nice cool room."
"…"
"No, no, it's all right. I know you've been thinking it."
"…"
"Hope's not the best thing to cling to at a time like this, but we all need something to keep us going. I know a bar we can go to once this is all over. My treat."
"…!"
"After all you've been through, kid, you deserve a drink."
"…"
"All right, you can have sushi. My number is…"
X
When Soma and J first met, neither of them liked each other. In retrospect, it made sense that Dracula would be wary of the man who killed him, and it was his fault that Julius Belmont lost his memory. But at the time, Soma wasn't sure what bothered him about this middle-aged man with the coat almost as nice as his. J, on the other hand, had not thought much about why he disliked this boy; he instinctively disliked dark magic, after all.
Soma had liked Yoko, though. Well, 'like' was a bit of a strong word, but 'dislike' was even stronger. To be honest, it was nice to see a friendly face in a castle full of monsters that wanted to flay him alive, but he didn't know her well enough to form an opinion of her.
In other words, when Yoko had looked him in the eye and gestured to the seat in front of her, Julius's nod was a clear sign that he had his back, but what should have been a reassuring gesture only served to throw him further off balance (much like cheerleaders distracting the quarterback during Homecoming).
"That's everyone?" asked Yoko, arms crossed. Mina nodded. "What the hell were you thinking?"
X
The rain had returned.
Leon had been a ghost for around nine hundred years, and had been alone for almost that long. Now and then, he'd met the odd fellow who could see him, and more importantly had the sense to not panic at the sight of him, but none of them lasted.
Speaking with his old friend after so long was like a warm hearth after a long winter's walk. Leon closed his eyes, and tried to picture the snowswept fields and valleys of his youth. He could almost taste the fresh, clean air, the tiny bites of snowflakes, mist rising in the distance, the rustle of migrating deer…
Oh, right. Whenever he'd stop for the night at whatever house, inn, or camp that would welcome him, the meager warmth of the indoors (or the very edge of the fire) would seem unbearable at first, until he'd start to shiver and shiver. He'd edge closer and closer to the hearth, embracing the blessed heat, until someone got sick of this vagrant hogging the precious space and would shove him to the back. Or someone would open the door. Or the wind would blow the fire out. And as the icy chill bit into him once more, only then would he realize that he'd been freezing all along…
And now that last bit of warmth had been snatched away, leaving him out in the cold, with no indifference to insulate him.
A crash of thunder broke him out of his thoughts. Leon looked up, if only to avoid what lay beneath.
It had taken him a while to realize that he had died; he'd been rather scatterbrained in his twilight years, and it wasn't unusual for him to wake up and wander around a village where people liked to pretend that vagrants like him and his family didn't exist. He would have liked to remember that he'd only discovered the truth after he found a panicking grandchild running through the streets crying for help, or a sobbing son or daughter bent double above his corpse. But life wasn't always that pretty.
He hadn't thought much of it when his son-in-law didn't respond when he called to him; his voice was weak, even to his deafened ears. There was little to suspect when those village children ran past him instead of going around; when children played, nothing could distract them. And there was nothing strange about not stumbling over loose cobblestones, when he had been sure-footed almost all his adult life.
It was only after a fresh autumn rain sprung from the east, the scent of crinkling leaves wafting on the mild breeze, did Leon look down on his hands, and find that the raindrops simply passed through him.
His thoughts were one again interrupted by a flap of red cloth blocking his view of the sky. He blinked, and looked around.
A tall figure in a raincoat was holding the umbrella over Leon's head. In the other hand was a cell phone; even with the speaker held to the figure's ear, Leon could see that the screen was cracked and dead. "Hello."
"Howdy," said Leon, a smile breaking over his face.
TO BE CONTINUED!
I'm not dead, just a slow writer. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to start on the next Halloween special.
Do I know how to write a Texan accent? No. Will Leon be using it every time he says something in English? That's the goal. I don't use Kazuya or Aoi's future slang that much, but at least they have the excuse that they're trying to blend in by not using it.
Since Julius is only shown speaking to Yoko, Alucard, and Soma in the games, I had briefly considered that he speaks to Alucard and Yoko in Romanian, Soma in English, and doesn't know any Japanese. Then I realized that he'd already been shown communicating in Japanese. Kind of Anglocentric to assume he knows English, but in my defense, it's a very common second language.
OMAKE #1: Summoners who aren't fighters
"Summoners, what is your opinion on summoners who don't fight themselves?" asked Maya, pen at the ready.
"Good for them, I guess," said Soma. "Take any advantage you have. Just make sure that whatever demon you have is actually loyal and not just conning you into selling your soul."
"Their cowardice is idiocy," said Kazuya. "Demons don't follow the weak. If you're not willing to go into battle, they'll just see a whimpering source of Magnetite they'll turn on the moment you're no longer fun."
"I do not have an opinion," said Aleph.
"I'm almost one," said Tamaki. "Back when I had all my demons, I was on the front lines all the time. You can't die in Makai, and I had Guardians helping me out. I pretty much quit after that, because the Persona users could handle things, and they were a lot less squishy than I was. At least, until Kyoji Kuzunoha took me in. Turns out fighting is a requirement for their summoners, so I'm training again."
"I only met one, but I didn't kill him because of that," said Naoki. "In theory, at least, I respect their decision and wish them luck. Humans are fragile, so don't think you're a coward just because you don't want to charge that dragon with a rebar spear. Yeah, I have friends who did stuff like that, but they know thousands of others who didn't make it. Still, if you have guns or arrows, there's no excuse not to use those."
"There are civilian summoners everywhere," said Nanashi. "Unless you're talking about Hunters who only arm themselves with demons. Those guys are idiots. Yeah, you can send your demons out to fight, but who's keeping you safe? Nothing wrong with civilian summoners who keep a strong one on the side for a little protection, though."
OMAKE #2: As good an explanation as any
"So if you were there when Dracula became a vampire, do you know how he pulled off Dominance?" asked Soma.
"Dominance?" repeated Leon.
Soma blinked. "You know, the power to absorb the souls of monsters and… you have no idea what I'm talking about, do you?"
Leon shook his head. "The Crimson Stone gave Mathias power over Death… the Reaper, not the concept. I've never heard of it granting any additional powers, though…"
"Hm…" said Soma. "I have Death's soul, but he doesn't talk to me. I guess we'll never know, then."
FLASHBACK
It was another bright, sunny summer night in northern Scandinavia, and Dracula and Death were waiting out the sun indoors with yet another round of ring-toss. They had exhausted their other options; chess was no fun when a grandmaster played someone who forgot how the knights moved, knucklebones was unfair when the bones just bounced off of Death's bony hand, it was difficult to mold snow without body heat, and Go Fish had not been invented yet.
"Say, Dracula," Death said at last. "Do you want to learn how to reap souls?"
"Eh, okay," said Dracula.