"You seem very tired, Madoka-sama."
Madoka snapped to attention, blinking rapidly with half-lidded eyes as she regained her bearings. She had been sitting in front of the Holy System, trying to divine its secrets once more. After many setbacks and a glimmer of progress, everything became hazy . . . .
She chuckled weakly. "I guess I am, Michael-kun." She yawned. "I was so busy trying to figure this out that I lost track of time."
She heard him step closer, pausing right behind her.
"Are you sure about this?"
She felt that this was a very common question from him. But she didn't mind; she was a bit of a worrywart herself. "About what?"
"Your decision regarding the revelation of God's death."
"Yes. I believe that it is for the best that the masses do not learn of it."
"I see." Michael's tone still held a trace of concern. "While I support your decision, I cannot help but worry for you. If you never announce yourself publicly, then you will never garner more faith."
"I care little for how much faith I receive; I am perfectly willing to continue masquerading as God, answering prayers and granting miracles in His name, if it will benefit the most people."
"I understand the sentiment of sacrificing the few for the sake of the many, but if the 'few' you are neglecting in this case is yourself, I fear for your own personal health. Will you truly be able to sustain yourself with the meager amount of faith you are receiving?"
Madoka smiled sadly. "I am no stranger to carrying such a heavy burden. In my previous position, only one person ever gave me their faith, yet I was able to carry out my duties anyway." Her eyes met his. "The faith I am receiving is plenty. You needn't worry about me."
". . . Very well then," Michael said. "On another note, the peace offering from the Devil faction has arrived. I believe Beelzebub-san referred to it as the 'Brave Saints' system?" He pulled out what looked like several decks of cards from his sleeve.
Madoka glanced at them curiously. "And these will allow us to reincarnate humans as angels?"
"Indeed. Beelzebub-san also apologized for taking so long to make these, but that was because he wished to make a special set for you."
She blinked. "A special set? For me?"
"Correct. The other Seraphs and I each have our own unique decks as well, but I believe yours is the most unique of them all."
He handed her a deck. As she looked through the cards, her face scrunched up in confusion.
"Um, they're blank?"
The cards she held were utterly devoid of anything. They were a pure white expanse, like blank sheets of paper, just waiting to be filled.
"They're supposed to be." Michael smiled softly in amusement at her befuddled expression. "Beelzebub-san said that you could inscribe your own power into them, allowing you to customize the effects of each one: wildcards, essentially. They are still meant to be given and used by someone, but exactly what they will do for the user is entirely up to you."
She gazed down at the cards, her mind already racing with possibilities. One in particular seemed appropriate, runes of a language that was both known and unknown to her.
"I'll be sure to thank him later."
Michael nodded. "There is more news as well. Strada-san, despite his protests, has taken to his position as the new Pope quite well. With the immense respect and support he already commanded, the masses accepted him in no time."
"That's good. And what of the rest of the corruption within the Church?"
"It is being dealt with as we speak. The previous Pope left extremely thorough reports about the activities of quite a few sinful clergymen, which have greatly aided our investigation. I expect we will have rounded the rest of them up within the week."
Madoka let out a sigh that she didn't even know she had been holding. "Wonderful. It seems the mission was a resounding success, then."
He smiled gently. "Indeed, it was. I was skeptical at first, but it seems I was right to trust in your judgment in the end." His smile morphed into a frown. "However, the investigation has also turned up several rumors that are unrelated but concerning nonetheless."
More problems. Madoka probably should have expected that things wouldn't be tied up all that easily.
"And that would be . . . ?"
"There are many exorcists that are displeased with the current peace between the Three Factions. These are not righteous crusaders either, unsatisfied because they believe we should not be cooperating with such 'evil' creatures. No . . ." He closed his eyes as his tone grew more sorrowful. "These are the people who have lost something dear to them. Family, comrades, a loved one . . . the devils and fallen angels took something precious away from them, and they will never forgive them for it."
Madoka's own face saddened from the dour topic. "I won't say they are wrong to feel that way."
"Neither shall I. Regardless, if their concerns are not addressed, then I fear they may very well threaten the stability of the Church and the very peace we are trying to build."
She tilted her head in thought. "Give me some time. I will find a way that they can find peace. Without any further bloodshed."
"I pray that you are successful in your endeavor." Michael bowed. "One last thing," he said as he straightened back up. "Now that we finally possess the Brave Saint System, I was wondering if you have any recommendations for initial recruits?"
Madoka smiled as she recalled the two brave exorcists that risked their lives in the most recent operation.
"I think I have a few ideas . . . ."
xxx
Madoka traced her finger over one of the wildcards, leaving blackened runes of an alien language in its wake.
She thought it ironic, that she was making use of the powers of the foes that she had spent so much of her life fighting. Once upon a time, she might have considered the very idea to be repulsive, but she had long since learned that things were not always so black-or-white.
Witches were not evil. They never were. Even when they killed, it was out of instinct rather than any malicious intent. You may as well fault a hawk for hunting, or a fish for swimming.
And in the end, witches were simply another part of people. They were the worst aspects of a person: the parts that envied, raged, and lusted. The proverbial "devil" that everyone possessed.
Such dark feelings were an inevitable part of human nature. The only difference was whether someone allowed it to control them or vice versa.
And as the goddess harboring the despair of mankind since its inception, she had gotten very good at controlling it.
Her hand paused, lifting away from the now filled card. She wrung her hand, as if flicking ink off her fingers.
It looked like a mermaid. A mermaid wearing a crown of swords, a short, blue cape, and a suit of armor.
Its runic name was inscribed next to it.
OKTAVIA.
She placed it into the pile with the other two she had already finished. There would be one more, but it was not time yet.
She stood up, brushing off the hem of her dress.
Hopefully, there wouldn't be any major misunderstandings (this time) when she gave these to her friends.
And while she was at it, she should probably make some calls as well.
"I wonder if Leviathan-san is free right now."
xxx
He swung his sword with as much force as he could muster, smashing the training dummy clean off its pole and into the wall.
"Woohoo, Cristaldi-sensei! Way to get them!"
Ewald glanced at his pupil, who was cheering him on from the other side of the room. "Don't you have your own practice to be doing? If you continue to slack off, I will increase the number of reps you'll be doing to one hundred."
His student froze. "Ehehehe, no need to be so harsh, sensei! I just stopped by because I was told to deliver a message to you."
He frowned. Although he was the third highest ranking official in the Church, most of the paperwork went to the Pope and the Cardinal Priest (although, since Vasco was recently promoted, this position was currently vacant). Which he was fine with since that gave him more time to train his exorcist abilities. But that also meant that it was unusual for someone to seek him out instead of the previously mentioned two (unless it was to request training from him, in which case he would be happy to smack them around a bit).
But for something like that, he imagined the prospective student would come in person.
"And what would that be?"
"Well, now that we are officially at peace with the other factions, the higher-ups hired on a grief counselor to help all the people who lost someone to the fighting. And you've already been scheduled for the first appointment since, well, you know . . . ."
Ewald knew very well what his student was referring to. He had been the teacher of many of the Church's exorcists, watching them turn from fledging cadets into mature warriors with a smile like that of a proud parent.
Watching them fall in battle one-by-one was heartrending, to say the least. It was always difficult when the news came, that yet another one of his proteges did not come back from a mission.
How many had it been by now? He had carved each of their names into his heart as a reminder; that he had not been good enough, had not adequately prepared his students for the harsh war that had gone on for so long.
It was also why he found the current peace to be so off-putting. After all the lives the devils and fallen angels had stolen from them, they were just going to put aside their grievances and join hands? As if nothing had happened, that all this blood had not been spilled?
If that were to happen, then would his students have died for nothing? Died fighting in a war that didn't even reach a conclusion, in the end?
It was why he spent so much of his time in the training room. He was preparing for the day the war resumed (it had to, it just had to), and because it helped clear his head, helped keep the doubts and demons that plagued his mind at bay.
But if the Church had hired a counselor for them, then they really were serious, weren't they? About this peace.
He could already feel his dearly departed students rolling in their graves.
"I'm not going. Tell them to cancel it."
"Ehehehe . . ." His student chuckled nervously. "See, they knew that you would say that. Which is why they decided to make it an order."
He frowned. If it was an order, then it seemed that he would not be getting out of it. As a fervent supporter of the Church's structure and hierarchy, his own moral code would not allow it.
"Very well, then. I shall attend the appointment."
"Cool! It's, uh, I wrote this down somewhere!"
Ewald rolled his eyes as his student scrambled around before finally finding the paper he had written the date and time on.
"Great, that should be everything. I'll see you later, Sensei!"
He returned the wave as his pupil ran off into the distance, likely to get himself in trouble somewhere else. But he didn't really mind his youthful antics: they were strangely nostalgic, in a way.
Speaking of which . . .
He glanced down at the paper scrap he had been handed. The appointment was only a few hours from now.
"What a waste of time."
Turning back, he held up his sword once more.
He could get in a bit more training beforehand.
xxx
Sona hummed quietly to herself as she worked.
She was sitting in the Student Council room. This time, however, she was alone. Finding herself craving some peace and quiet recently, she had given her peerage the day off to relax and do whatever it was that they did for recreation.
It was just another typical day as Student Council President. Filling out forms, managing budgets, disciplining troublemakers . . . it was all a welcome reprieve after going to the Young Devil's Gathering (getting ridiculed in the process), dealing with the Hero faction, and then hunting down Stray Magicians.
With so many events transpiring all at once, she found that she missed the tedium of an ordinary day: no villains to fight, no hostages to rescue, no musclebound idiots to beat up . . . it was all very peaceful and quiet.
A knock on the door.
"It's open," she called out.
Tsubaki walked in. "There's a letter for you. It's from your sister."
Sona's pen stopped. Dread began settling at the bottom of her stomach, slowly piling its way up.
No. No, no, no. This was going to be the perfect day of relaxation (as relaxing as it could get for a workaholic like her), and she was not going to let her sister ruin it.
"Put it down right there. I'll look at it later."
Her Queen did as she asked, then bowed. "I'll leave you to it then."
Engulfed in silence once more, Sona renewed her work with vigor, doing her best to ignore the letter sitting innocuously on her desk.
I will not look at it. I will not look at it. I will not look at it.
Scribble. Turn page. Scribble. Turn page. Scribble. Turn page.
As she tossed another form into her "finished" pile, a flash of a sharp corner caught her attention, drawing her gaze to the letter once more.
She growled, then shoved it behind a pile of paperwork so she didn't have to look at it.
And then, all too soon, she found her desk barren, save for the pile of completed forms sitting in her "done" box.
And the letter. She felt like it was glaring at her, offended that she had ignored it for so long.
She wouldn't be surprised if her sister had put a charm on it to make her feel that way.
Sigh. For once, she wished that she had more work, so she could put off looking at the letter longer.
Well, no more excuses.
She opened the latter. After reading the contents, her eyebrows shot up. "Wha – ?!"
A magic circle flashed to life in front of her. Out of it stepped her sister, who flashed her a big smile.
"That's right, So-tan!"
Serafall winked at her.
"You're going to Heaven!"
xxx
Ewald knocked on the door.
"Come in!"
A cheery, youthful voice bade him come in. Stepping into the room, he glanced around briefly before zoning in on the young woman who sat behind the desk.
Her startling golden eyes met his own. "Please, take a seat. Would you like any refreshments? I have tea if you'd like, but I'm afraid my brewing skills can't quite compare to that of some people I know."
"Just water is fine."
"Okay, then!"
He sat down in front of her in an almost trance-like state. There was just something surreal about the situation, as if it weren't quite real, like he was meeting a spirit instead of an actual person.
"You're the counselor I was supposed to meet with?" he asked.
She nodded. "That's right! You can call me Madoka." A smile. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Cristaldi-san."
He nodded absentmindedly. "Likewise."
Although he was against the purpose of this meeting, he would, at the very least, be courteous to this woman who was taking time out of her day to speak with him.
"You are aware of the purpose of this arrangement, yes?"
"To help us come to terms with our losses," he recited monotonously.
"That's correct! Now, I won't force you to do anything you don't want to. If you don't feel comfortable talking about it, I understand. Just know that I'm here to lend an ear if you need it."
He could tell that she was sincere. She would respect his bounds; in fact, if he walked out of that room right now, he had a feeling that she wouldn't stop him.
But that would be quite rude of him. So, he supposed that he could at least stay and talk a little. But . . .
"What's there to say?" He laughed humorlessly. "I failed in my duties. I was supposed to prepare them for war. For the fighting, violence, and bloodshed." He sighed. "But in the end, they just became more victims."
"You blame yourself for their deaths." It was not a question.
"A teacher is meant to prepare their students for what is to come. If the pupil fails, then it is the fault of the instructor. And they were the ones to pay the price for my failing . . . not me."
She was quiet, simply sitting there and listening as he ranted about his feelings of inadequacy. It was something that he had bottled up for a long time, a weakness that he could not afford to show. Because he was a teacher, a role model; with so many eyes on him, he could not afford to falter.
But here, in this private, quiet room, with this kind, gentle woman . . . he felt like he could let it all out. That there was no need to keep up an act here, that he could let his true feelings show without being judged.
He fell silent, finished with his monologue. She nodded slowly, having absorbed everything he said.
"And what of the devils and fallen angels, the foes you once fought so fervently against? What do you think about them?"
"Them?" He laughed scornfully. "They are evil beings, parasites and predators that feed off humanity. We would be better off without their ilk."
". . . I see." Her voice was carefully neutral. "Let us switch to a less dreary topic." She paused. "Tell me about your students."
He blinked. It felt like a strange request, but he supposed he could indulge her. "Which ones? I have had many throughout the ages."
She waved a hand. "Any of them. Your favorites, perhaps. The ones that left the deepest impressions on you."
"My favorite students . . ." He delved into his mind, revisiting memories of a bygone age: an age when he was not so weighed down by sorrow, when he heard the laughter of children playing every day.
". . . There was a girl." Memories of ash-blonde hair and green eyes ran through his head. "She was the weakest of the group that year. She had trouble simply lifting a sword." He gave an amused smile as he recalled her valiant efforts to pick up a sword, only to drop it again. "But what she lacked in body, she more than made up for in spirit. On the first day, when all the other new recruits had long since gone to bed, she was still outside, trying to pick up that sword."
"And when we went outside the next day, the first thing we saw was her, standing on the training ground, proudly holding a sword in her hands. Right before she collapsed of exhaustion." A chuckle. "I had to pry that sword out of her hands, such was her grip on it."
Madoka smiled softly. "She sounds like a most wonderful student. I doubt many could match her sheer will."
"Of that, I have no doubt. She soaked up my lessons like a sponge. By the time they graduated, she was at the top of her class. And after . . . ."
He paused. He could still remember her grisly demise: hair soaked with blood, and a face twisted in horror . . . .
As if sensing his dark thoughts, Madoka spoke up. "Is there anyone else?"
The nightmare receded, as if banished by the sound of that soothing voice.
". . . There was a boy." Memories of fiery-red hair and amber eyes flashed through his mind. "He was a natural with swords. And he had one of the strongest compatibilities with Holy Swords that I had ever seen. But that earned him the ire of his classmates, and a child's envy could be an ugly thing indeed." He grimaced as he recalled several of the more troublesome incidents that had occurred. "But despite being scorned for so long, he never once fought back. He would just stand there and smile, forgiving all sins against him."
"It sounds like he had the patience of a saint."
He chuckled dryly. "He might have very well been one in the making." A pause. "Despite everything, he would always try to help those around him. A tip here, a helping hand there . . . he soon became one of the most well-liked students. And eventually, even those who once scorned him forgot the reason for their hate in the face of his infinite kindness."
However, that kindness would cost him. Ewald could still remember that fateful day, as fresh-faced graduates ran with tearful eyes back to the base, screaming that they had to go help him, that he had stayed behind to buy them time to escape, that if they hurried they could make it in time –
But when they arrived at the scene, the only things left were ashes and charred bones.
A single, glistening tear dropped to the desk. He immediately clamped down on his emotions, forcing his pain and grief to the back of his mind once again.
She did not comment on his momentary lapse in composure, for which he was grateful. It was easier to keep up a mask if no one commented on how fragile it looked.
He kept talking. He spoke of the students that frustrated him, the students that amused him, the students that surprised him . . . there were so many. And he remembered them so vividly.
When he finally ran out of stories to share, he felt drained. Empty. But it felt cathartic, in a way. Like something that had been weighing him down all this time was finally gone.
"They sound like they were all wonderful people," Madoka said softly.
"Yes." He felt numb. "They were."
She nodded as she scribbled something down. "Have you done any community service recently?"
He blinked. That topic seemed like it came out of the blue. "No . . . not recently."
There hadn't been much time to do so, with the war going on. He had been utterly focused on training: both for himself, and for those under his tutelage.
"I think it would be good for you if you did some." She looked up. "Knowing that you helped someone, somewhere . . . it gives you something to be proud of. Something to help you keep going."
Well, he had been neglecting his service duty as of late. And with the war over, he supposed he had no more excuses to continue putting it off.
And if it helped even a little, then he would be grateful.
". . . I would like that."
She smiled. "Great! There's a church here on the outskirts that could use some help . . . ."
xxx
Madoka sat back in her chair and let out a tired sigh as she watched Ewald leave.
Michael had not been a big fan of her idea. And she didn't blame him – anyone would think that coming down here to give counseling sessions to every grieving exorcist was far too taxing on what little faith she had.
But she wasn't a normal goddess. She had operated on a far larger scale with far less faith to work with back in her old world. And even if the rules of this world were different and made her more dependent on the belief of others, she didn't need nearly as much faith as a normal deity to survive.
It was in her nature to be a nameless, faceless deity. The helping hand behind the curtain, the guardian angel that watched over her charges from afar. Someone who was always there, always helping, but never recognized.
She would have to spend more time resting afterward, but it would all be worth it. This was something only she could do.
After all, she had proclaimed herself to be their guardian, didn't she? Their parental figure, their mentor, their guiding light. The man she had just talked to had been lost in his grief, but as he recounted past tales, she had seen past his darkness, seen the gentle, caring man he had used to be.
And it was her duty to pull him back from the brink, to pull all of them back from the darkness that threatened them from within.
In short, it was her duty to give them hope again.
She took a sip from the mug on her desk, wincing slightly at the strong taste. It was coffee: a drink that she had never had the chance to taste in her past life. Supposedly, it would help energize her and keep her awake.
And she was going to need all the energy she could get to power through the rest of these appointments. And if these weren't enough, well, that was why she brought in a little insurance. A somewhat risky form of insurance, but if it turned out well, it would accomplish far more than what she could do here.
And in any case, her next guest should be arriving any moment now . . . .
A knock on the door.
"Come in!"
xxx
"This isn't Heaven."
Serafall looked sheepish as Sona stated the blatantly obvious. The large oaken doors before them were clearly the gateway into a church.
"Well, it wouldn't have sounded as cool if I said 'church,' y'know?"
Sona rolled her eyes. "Deliberate misnomer aside, you are also aware that simply stepping into a church is enough to inflict immeasurable pain on us?"
"Fret not, dear So-tan! I would never subject you to such cruel torture!"
Ignoring Sona's mutters about how her very existence constituted as torture at times (What a mean thing to say, So-tan!), Serafall pulled several amulets out of a bag.
She held them out, catching the attention of both Sona and her peerage.
"What's that?" Tsubaki asked.
"Since our dear goddess hasn't quite gotten around to fulfilling the second half of her promise yet, she's decided to make these for us instead." She shook them, causing them to jingle. "They're amulets that remove a devil's weakness to the Holy element! Neat, huh?"
Eyes widened as the implication of the existence of such items sunk in.
"W – wait, they remove our weakness to holy stuff?" Saji asked. "Isn't that like, overpowered?"
"Goddess? Are you referring to Madoka-sama, who we saw back at the peace conference?" Tsubasa said.
"And what's this promise about? We didn't hear anything about that!" Ruruko said.
"Oh, no!" Serafall gave an exaggerated swoon. "My tongue must have slipped. I suppose I might as well tell you all the rest now."
Sona sighed. "Onee-sama, you don't have to make up an excuse to tell us something . . ."
"But it's more fun that way! Besides, if I make it sound like an accident, that'll give me plausible deniability!"
Sona was pretty sure that no one would buy that if they ever heard a recording of this conversation, but she was also sure that her sister didn't care.
Serafall proceeded to give them a basic rundown of the behind-the-scenes events that happened at the peace conference (after swearing them to secrecy, of course).
"And that's about the gist of it! Any questions?" She gave them all an expectant look.
Several of them seemed a bit overwhelmed by what they had just been told, but the one question burning in the back of all their minds was –
"Um, what exactly did we come here to do?" Reya asked as she timidly raised a hand.
"Judging by the presence of those amulets, I'm guessing we're going inside the church." Momo rubbed her chin. "But for what purpose, I wonder?"
"Yeah! We're not going inside to pray, are we? That'd be kind of stupid," Tomoe added.
Sona herself did not yet know what their purpose in coming here was. Normally, she would have stubbornly refused to go along with Serafall's antics; however, over the years, she had learned to spot when her sister was being serious.
And despite Serafall's current playful attitude, Sona could tell this was a very serious matter indeed.
"I'm glad you asked! You're all here to do . . ." Serafall twirled around, spinning her arms around for dramatic effect.
"Volunteer work!"
The silence that ensued was deafening.
"Come again . . . ?" Tsubasa's skepticism was plain to see.
"Hmm? I'm pretty sure I didn't stutter, did I?"
"But . . . volunteer work?!" Saji spluttered. "Why did we have to come all the way out here to do volunteer work at a church of all places?!"
Tsubaki furrowed her brows. "I imagine there's a deeper meaning behind our presence here."
Serafall merely smiled in response.
Sona spoke up. "Is this supposed to be a mission of some sorts? To cultivate relations between the Underworld and Heaven?"
"Mmmm, it is to help patch things up with Heaven, yes." She tapped her chin in thought. "But treating this as a mission would defeat the point of the mission . . . ."
That . . . Sona wasn't sure what to make of that statement, but it was obvious that there were far more things at play behind the scenes.
"Why us, anyway?" Ruruko asked. "Couldn't you have gotten some other group of devils to handle this?"
"Now, now," Serafall wagged a finger. "This is a very important task! I can't just give it to anyone. Besides, compared to most other devils, you are all very uniquely qualified for the job!"
Sona had the general idea of what her sister was getting at. As students at a (mostly) human academy, they had more experience blending into normal society than many other devils. As members of said school's Student Council, they spent much of their time in service to the school and its student body.
Volunteer work was simply service to the community. Not much different from what they had to do on a daily basis.
And if this task really was as important as she felt it was, there was no way she was going to run away from it.
Even if the rest of her peerage seemed none too pleased at the prospect.
"Is there anything else we should know before we get started?"
Saji looked at her with a betrayed expression. "K – Kaichou! Are you really going to go through with this?!"
She gave her pawn a flat look. "Yes, I am. Satan Leviathan has entrusted us with an important task, and we will carry it out to the best of our abilities."
Seeing her resolute gaze, he reluctantly backed down (meanwhile in the background, Serafall was moaning about her sister being so cold as to refer to her by her title).
"Onee-sama, get it together," she snapped.
Serafall immediately brightened up at the more familiar form of address. "Yes, yes. Anything for my dear So-tan~" She thrust the bundle of amulets out towards them. "Now, it should go without saying, but keep these on at all times! While you're here, you'll be acting as students, not devils, so it would be bad if one of you suddenly collapsed inside the church!"
Tsubaki frowned. "Wasn't this supposed to help relationships with Heaven? Why the need for secrecy?"
"It's all part of the grand plan. Don't worry your pretty little heads about it!"
Sona and the rest of her peerage each took an amulet and put it on. The design was simple: a star nestled inside the crook of a crescent moon, brought together by an artisan's craftsmanship.
Quite the appropriate symbol, given the nature of their mission.
"And one last thing –" Serafall rummaged inside her pocket and pulled out a sheet of paper. "Now, this mission should be as low-risk as it gets, but in case anything bad does happen . . ." She thrust the summoning circle into Sona's hands. "Just give that a tap, and I'll be over in a jiffy!"
Staring down at the paper in her hand, Sona resolved to never use it. This day alone was enough to fill up her "Serafall tolerance meter" for the next few months, possibly the next year as well.
"Well, I'll be off now! Take care, So-tan!"
Serafall hopped, skipped, and a jump later she was gone, vanishing in a flash of magic.
Sona turned back to those large wooden doors that once represented the threshold of the territory of one of their greatest enemies.
"If you have any objections, please voice them now."
Silence. Her peerage's expressions were tentative, hesitant; but there was a hint of resolve in each of them, fueled by the knowledge that they were contributing to the peace between the factions, even if it was only just a little.
"Then let us begin."
She pushed open the doors.
xxx
"Could you hand me that box, Shitori-san?"
Sona lifted the box, awkwardly heaved it over the table, then set it back down.
"Thank you."
"No problem, Cristaldi-san."
She watched as the exorcist turned away, packing food into the box she had just given him. They were working as part of a food drive, packaging the food into various containers before they were shipped. Different products had different destinations, so they had to sort the food beforehand to ensure that everything went into properly labeled containers.
It wasn't particularly difficult – managing the budgets for Kuoh Academy's various clubs and events involved far more work, and her peerage was disciplined enough that she did not have to be constantly giving them directions to perform their duties adequately.
"S – Saji-kun! A – are you really sure you should be carrying so many boxes at once?!"
"N – No worries! I got this!"
She heard something tumble and begin to fall . . . .
"You need to be more careful, Genshirou-san," her Queen coolly said.
"R – Right, Shinra-senpai! Sorry for making you catch that!"
Well, most of the time. She supposed she was going to have to lecture Saji for being too reckless again.
"You shouldn't be too hard on him."
Sona glanced at the man next to her. She hadn't thought that she would be brushing shoulders with a renowned exorcist, especially not one who was also a high-ranking member of the Church.
It felt a bit strange. To be standing next to each other while doing a mundane activity and making small talk in the process.
But if the peace between their factions lasted, then scenes like these wouldn't feel so unusual anymore.
Then again, he didn't know about their true nature, so this wasn't an entirely honest moment of cooperation.
"What do you mean?"
He smiled. "You are their leader, are you not? I've seen the way they look at you; whenever they hesitate, they look to you for guidance."
She shouldn't be surprised that he had caught on. Her peerage wasn't exactly the subtlest of people.
"As their leader, it is all the more important for me to reprimand them for their mistakes," she said.
"I do not believe that it was a mistake so much as a calculated risk."
She frowned. "A calculated risk?"
"Indeed. I believe he was trying to impress someone."
"Who could he possibly be trying to impress?"
He chuckled. "You would know better than me."
". . . Oh." She sighed. It would be best if she had a little talk with her Pawn about his infatuation for her before it caused him to pull any more crazy stunts.
"You are very observant, Cristaldi-san," she complimented.
"Not at all. I simply have much experience dealing with children."
"In what manner?" she asked, her curiosity piqued.
"I was a teacher."
"Truly? What did you teach your students?"
His eyes clouded over, their glint vanishing beneath a murky haze.
". . . I taught them how to survive. It is a cruel world that we live in," he said softly.
Sona was silent. The answer was suitably vague enough that a normal person (most likely what he thought of her as) would think that he was referring to life skills such as cooking, self-defense, perhaps even street-smarts.
But she was a devil. And he was an exorcist. And if he was a teacher, there was only one thing he could have been teaching.
. . . It was hard. To reconcile this kindly, gentle man next to her with a cold-blooded killing machine who slew so many of her kind without remorse and taught others how to do the same.
But this was a challenge that each of them had to face. Everyone, on both sides. And if this peace was to last, then each of them would need to overcome it, to conquer it with such force that there was no room left for doubt or suspicion.
She was determined to see it through. And she would help as many others along the way as she could.
"I remember giving these out to them. As rewards."
She turned to see him glancing at a jar of sweets. He was softly smiling at it, nostalgia written all over his face. Yet, there was a lingering shade of sadness, a veil of sorrow that could only mean one thing.
What would he have been, she wondered, in a world without these divisions? A world where he did not need to kill, did not need to teach others to kill, did not need to watch those he cherished be killed in return.
"I'm sure they loved you for it."
"Yes . . ." He set it down softly. "They did."
They continued working in silence afterward, both engulfed in their own thoughts.
xxx
Ewald carefully tucked the seeds he held into the small hole he had dug for them. After ensuring that each one was properly nestled, he scooped soil back over it, then patted it down to ensure it was firm.
He stood up, wiping off his brow and glancing around.
There were some new faces this time around. He vaguely recognized several of the exorcists toiling in the church's garden – no doubt they had been recommended by that counselor to come volunteer here as well.
Most of them only came for a few volunteering sessions before leaving. Several came around for a while longer, but they, too, eventually had their fill of this labor.
He had come to all of them. Every single volunteering event, he was there. It was the least he could do, after neglecting his service duty for so long.
The only other constants were those students he had met at the beginning. They were always there, doing whatever needed to be done: carrying cargo, serving food, or cleaning up, they had done it all.
He was impressed by their dedication. He doubted that even the most charitable believers would spend so much time aiding others.
"Gah, why won't this weed come out?!"
"Maybe you should try pulling harder?"
"I'm pulling as hard as I can! Ugh, if only Bennia-san was here . . . ."
"I don't think this is what you would use a scythe for . . . ."
Dusting himself off, he approached the two students. He had learned all their names during their first meeting – a useful skill he had picked up during his years of teaching.
"If you intend to weed, then you will need more than just brute force, Genshirou-san."
Saji looked startled by his appearance. "O – Oh, Cristaldi-san!"
Ewald crouched down and pulled out a small knife. "Please, stand back."
As soon as the boy had backed away, he immediately went to work, deftly working his knife through the soil to dig up the entire plant. As he probed, he observed the weed as he extracted it bit-by-bit, using its shape to deduce where its other roots might be.
Finally, he stood up in triumph, holding the entire plant out in front of him.
"W – Wow! That was so cool!" Ruruko said.
"Yeah! I can't believe you got it out so fast!"
He shook his head humbly. "I was merely lucky with my predictions. That is all." He turned to Saji. "If you intend to continue weeding, a tool might serve you well. Here." He held out his knife. "Take it."
The boy was surprised. "A – Are you sure? It looks kind of fancy . . . ."
Indeed, the tool had a most elaborate design. The handle was wood, but carved into it was the image of a massive oak tree, standing tall and proud with its boughs held high. Next to it were smaller saplings, still in the early stages of growth, but they held themselves with a certain degree of dignity as well.
Ewald smiled sadly. "It was given to me a long time ago by a student of mine. I think she would have liked for another student like you to have it."
Saji took the knife, cradling it in his hands.
Ruruko looked at him curiously, her interest piqued. "A student of yours?"
"Yes." He smiled fondly as memories of an ashen-blonde girl flooded him. "She was an avid gardener. She spent all her free time tending to the garden she started behind the school." He paused. "I was displeased, at first, when I found out. It seemed like such a trivial pastime. But she just seemed so earnest, so sincere about it, that I couldn't tell her to stop."
He balled up the plant he held in his hands. "She was the one who taught me how to weed. And . . ." A dirt-stained face that smiled proudly as she held out the bouquet of flowers she had grown for his birthday. "She was the one who taught me how to live," he said softly.
The two students were standing there in silence, seemingly dumbfounded by the thick emotion that had clogged his voice near the end.
"She definitely sounds like someone special alright," Saji said.
Ewald nodded slowly. "That she was."
"Where is she now?" Ruruko asked.
"She's dead."
"Oh!" Ruruko looked stricken. "I – I'm sorry! I – I didn't know –"
He shook his head. "It is not your fault. Her death is on my hands." He stared at his dirt-covered hands, and for the briefest moment, it looked as if his hands were covered in blood instead –
"Don't say that!"
He looked at Saji, surprised. "Why . . . do you say that?"
The boy sliced his arm through the air. "Because if the two of you really cared about each other so much, she wouldn't want you to blame yourself for her death!"
"How . . . how can you be so sure?"
Saji jabbed a hand at the knife, gesturing at the design on the handle. "Just look at it. Can't you see?"
Ewald glanced at it, still unsure as to what the boy was trying to say.
"The roots . . ." Saji said softly. "They're entangled."
Eyes wide, he noticed that the boy was indeed correct. The roots of the oak tree intertwined with those of the saplings.
But it did not look like a destructive form of contact. No, it looked like it was more . . . loving. Tender. Supportive.
Like the oak tree was helping the saplings grow.
"She was a gardener, right?" Saji continued. "I think when she gave this to you, she wanted you to grow. To become stronger, so that you would be better equipped to help others." He smiled sadly. "I think she would be quite sad if she saw you stagnate, don't you think? And all because of her, too . . . ."
Ewald stared at him, incredulous. He had never thought of the gift that way. He had merely considered it to be a sentimental gesture, but looking back on it now . . . .
Despite being a teacher, he still had a lot to learn, didn't he? And it seemed like they didn't have to be students of his to be able to teach him a thing or two.
". . . Thank you," he said. "I – I think I needed to hear that."
Saji rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. "Hehehe, I might have gone a bit overboard there."
"No. You were right." He bowed. "Take pride in your accomplishment."
Ruruko, meanwhile, was staring at Saji with stars in her eyes. "Wow! That was such a cool speech, Saji-kun! Where did you learn to do that?!"
"Ehehehe . . ." If possible, Saji looked even more sheepish than before. "I was brushing up on some books, and I read something similar. I thought it would help here."
"But you don't like reading."
"Well, I was trying to impress Kaichou –" Saji's voice faltered as he noticed that Ruruko was beginning to look increasingly displeased.
Ewald quickly stepped away before the fireworks started.
Although he usually didn't mind mediating between children, this was one thing he was not going to get involved in.
xxx
Ewald set down the heavy box he was holding with a grunt.
Besides him, Saji set down his own box with a pained expression. "Phew! Is that all of them? Because I don't think I can carry any more of these."
He chuckled. "I believe so, Genshirou-san."
The volunteers had been tasked with cleaning up the church today, putting unused items and old tools into boxes for storage in the shed. They had then helped to carry them into the shed itself, people coming and going like a relay.
Ewald and Saji had ended up with the last two boxes. Now that they were finished, it was time to get back to where the others were waiting for them.
"Awesome! I could really use a nice, long nap after this."
"After all the hard work you've done, I'd say that's the least you deserved."
As Saji began to turn around, he suddenly frowned. Patting himself down, he searched frantically all over his person.
Ewald glanced at him. "Is something the matter?"
"I – I can't find the knife you gave me!"
The exorcist looked at the boxes they had just carried in. "Did you drop it? In one of the boxes, perhaps?"
Saji's face lit up. "Wait. I think I remember accidentally putting it in along with some other junk in that one box."
He rushed over and dived into a box, combing through the items inside with gusto.
"I found it!"
He turned, holding the knife up proudly. But unbeknownst to him, the amulet he wore had snagged on one of the sticks poking out of the box, and as he stood up, the cord stretched taught . . .
And snapped.
"Thanks for the tip, Crist –"
The boy collapsed to the floor.
"Genshirou-san!" Ewald rushed over.
Saji was writhing in pain on the floor, clutching his head. There was no discernible cause for his distress – no wound, no sign . . . nothing.
No! There must be something, anything!
He strained his eyes further, taking in every single detail. And out of the corner of his eye, he noticed that one of the boy's hands had strayed from his head, inching closer and closer to . . . the amulet?
With no other leads, Ewald quickly grasped it and placed it in Saji's hand.
The fits ceased. The boy was lying still, chest still heaving from that arduous ordeal.
"Are you alright, Genshirou-san?"
"Y – Yeah . . ." He stood up shakily and flashed him a weak smile. "I – I get fits, sometimes. Sorry you had to see that."
"I am much more concerned about you than myself." Ewald frowned, his face lined with concern. "Do you need any help?"
"No! I'm fine. Really."
Snatching up the knife he had dropped, Saji gave him a quick bow before turning and hurrying away.
Ewald watched as the boy's back faded into the distance, troubled by what he had seen. That his fit had ceased the moment the amulet was back in his hands was no coincidence, of that he was sure.
"Spirit possession, perhaps?"
But, he recalled all the other students in his cohort wearing amulets too. And while he was not as learned in the particulars of spirits as some of his peers, he knew enough that such a large outbreak of spirit possession was astonishingly rare. And even if one occurred, it would be resolved with the utmost urgency.
So, what other explanation was there? What other supernatural phenomena would cause someone to collapse in agony while within the bounds of a church?
No . . . it couldn't be. There was no way. No way that the kind, hard-working students he had met, who laughed and played and smiled like so many of the students he used to teach could be . . . such creatures.
There was no way.