In honor of Shiro's birthday today, here's another chapter!

I really want to get back to writing more of this fic, haha. But lettersverse really has its hooks on me!

Hope you enjoy this chapter!

VATICAN CITY - TRUE CROSS HEADQUARTERS

"My, my, don't you look handsome."

Shiro felt… ridiculous. The preparations that led up to this ritual were a little bit too much, in his opinion. He could understand the need to prepare one's heart via prayer, confession, self-meditation, and all that. He could even tolerate the limited, cleansing diet he'd had to pick up in the last twenty-four hours. But the accompanying outfit… Shiro really found it to be utterly, completely unnecessary.

"I really don't see the point of wearing this so early in the game," Shiro said, fiddling with the golden bangles encircling his wrists.

Lucy tutted in response.

"I'm sure you'll feel more at home with the outfit when the time comes," the Chinese woman said as she stepped closer. She was the first of his companions to arrive at the Vatican's headquarters. Shiro was glad for the company after having spent an entire day dealing with his own thoughts; he did, however, feel a little exposed to her gaze. On any other occasion, Shiro would have been more than happy to receive that sort of attention, but...

"They definitely didn't think this through. These clothes aren't exactly made for traveling," Shiro pointed out.

The outfit was a mix of golds and reds amongst a sea of white. The fabric was light and comfortable, perfect to wear out on a hot day. But it was, in Shiro's opinion, a little too revealing. The black, sleeveless turtleneck that clung to his skin was not even long enough to cover his midriff, and the gold-collared, sleeveless jacket that lay atop it was only long enough to cover his sides. The pants, a matching pale cream color, were a little loose on him, tightened only by a red, thin cord belt around the golden waistband. Long, black fingerless gloves covered his arms, secured into place by the golden bangles in his wrists and upper arms, the latter from which a pair of long, crimson scarves dangled.

"You'll be fine with a cloak," Lucy said dismissively as she leaned against one of the walls of the room and brought out her pipe. "Plus, a little discomfort will go a long way in helping you feel more attached to Assiah during the rite."

"Tch. Doesn't make this whole thing any less annoying," Shiro grumbled, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

Lucy let out a low hum. "I suppose not," she said as she lit up her pipe. Shiro's nostrils flared and his eyes lingered on Lucy as she idly played with the smoke, slowly curling each breath of it into whimsical shapes.

"Did you ever see Abel perform it?" she asked him after a while. Shiro took a second to register the question.

"Hmm? The rite? No."

"No?" Lucy's eyebrows rose in surprise.

"I was in Kyoto, that last time," Shiro explained. It had not by choice, though he'd been glad to miss out on it at the time.

"Hmm. I saw Abel then, and once before that, too," Lucy told him, another long breath of smoke escaping her lips. "Of course, he never had to do one on this scale. The last time this ritual was performed to such a large extent…" She paused to think about it. "It must have been as far back as the last great war…"

It was still rather hard, swallowing that fact. The number of people affected by the Blue Night was larger than what anyone could bear to fathom. Shiro kept trying not to think about it too deeply, despite the hand he had to play in helping them all. Though he'd mostly made peace with himself about it, it was still rather overwhelming thinking about the stakes of the task that lay ahead.

"They couldn't have made it easy for us and just passed on all on their own, huh?" Shiro said, only partly joking.

"Would you have?" Lucy countered. Her tone was gentle, as if she could read the worry behind his words. "Life is a precious thing. There are very few that let go of this world easily. Not to mention… this was a cruel and unexpected death."

It had been. Shiro had been a firsthand witness to the gruesome sight of his comrades burning alive, the flesh melting off their bodies, their bones dissolving into ash. He could still hear, in a small corner in the back of his mind, the resounding screams, the chaos, the pain and the panic. There was no way in hell that any of them had moved on easily. That level of suffering, of grief over their own unexpected deaths, would lead to trouble if left unchecked. And the longer all those affected refused to face their fate, the more they would grow to resent those still alive. And in time, that envy would turn to anger, even hate.

What remained would be no easy demon to exorcise; and the Order really didn't have enough numbers in their ranks to deal with the fallout.

"I don't suppose you have any pointers for me, do you?" Shiro said, feeling a bit of regret at having never seen his predecessor at work.

"Trust yourself. You will guide them well," Lucy assured him.

Shiro rubbed the back of his neck, accepting the sentiment, generic as it felt.

"Well, let's get through the first part first, huh?" he said.

RUSSIA - HIGH UP IN THE MOUNTAINS

Why, Shiro thought with thinning patience, did it have to be in the mountains?

The group of six left the Vatican at eight o'clock, sharp, after having been debriefed on the locations they had to visit. The data, unfortunately, only contained rough estimates, so they'd started with the one they knew the most details to—courtesy of Professor Kozlov.

"My team has been here before. We've done several studies of this area in the past," Adam explained as he read through the paperwork. "It's been a while since I've visited the site, but I can guide you to it. Be warned, it will not be a pleasant journey."

Understatement of the century.

"This… is so… impractical," Shiro said through gritted teeth as a brisk gust of wind rolled in, cutting through the bare inches of skin not quite covered by the cloak he'd donned as soon as they'd arrived in Russia. He regretted having ever complained about the drab outfits the Vatican regularly provided them; everyone else looked drastically warmer in their fur-trimmed winter uniforms. In comparison, his only advantage was the low-level fire demon he'd summoned to inbedd the lining of his cloak.

"At least it's not snowing, right?" Osceloa said, sparing him a sympathetic glance.

"Not yet, you mean," Shiro muttered, disgruntled.

It was a stroke of luck that it was not already snowing. When they first started their trek, the sky had been entirely clear, and the sun had illuminated the path ahead of them, a pale golden hue that sparkled into the distance. Since then, the warmth of the sun had been secreted away behind a thick blanket of clouds. Each step forward had increasingly become more and more miserable as they trudged forward through the ankle-deep snow. The wind was growing fiercer, its resounding howl echoing across the mountain range.

Shiro hoped the rest of their journey went by much more smoothly.

"Achoo!"

Trailing at the backend of their group, Mephisto sniffled loudly, looking uncharastically cold.

He's definitely faking it, Shiro thought, not even bothering to glance back. He'd seen Mephisto wear much less in worse weather. He wasn't exactly sure whose sympathy the demon was trying to garner, but Tamara, at least, was definitely not taking the bait.

In fact, the Norwegian exorcist had hardly said a word since they had stepped into the research camp that Adam had directed them to, courtesy of one of Mephisto's handy keys. Shiro had caught a small glimmer of something hot and angry in her eyes as she watched Mephisto close the door behind him with a jaunty twirl of his umbrella, but the emotion disappeared as swiftly as it had come.

Shiro couldn't help but to see a little of his old self reflected back in that frosty, unreadable expression. It made him uneasy. He wondered what was going through her head. Shiro knew little about her, save for the few snippets of her background he had caught through the grapevine. Although he was confident in her skillset, he worried her focus wasn't in the right place.

Unbidden, he let out a long sigh. His breath floated up, heavily visible, and Shiro made an annoyed click with his tongue as his glasses immediately fogged up.

"You doing alright?" Lucy asked, slowing down her pace just enough so that her quiet words could be heard through the deafening gusts of wind.

"You think I'd feel used to this by now," Shiro said dryly, wiping his glasses clear. "We've had a long goddamn winter back home. Wish they had sent us to a nice, warm beach instead."

Lucy let out a short huff of laughter. "Sounds like you're ready for a vacation already, Father."

"Yeah, well… Maybe I should schedule one right after this is over. Who knows what other crazy stunts the Vatican will have me do next."

"It won't be much longer!" Adam's voice carried loud and clear from the front. His already long strides picked up pace, forcing everyone else to do the same, lest they lose sight of him. "We're making good time—do keep up, will you?"

Sure enough, it was only another ten minutes before the climb up evened out. A large snow-filled plain stretched before them, and in the distance, a wall made of solid ice towered over them. Shiro wasn't sure how far up in the mountain they were, but the wall itself almost seemed as high as the climb had been. It stretched upward for several hundred feet, impenetrably, beautifully, immovable. And there, almost unseen in the wide stretch of it, a sharp gap of an entrance awaited them, a dark mouth as welcoming as the abyss itself.

"Is this…?" Tamara's voice was awestruck as she stopped in her tracks to admire the structure before them.

Osceola let out a low whistle.

"That's a hell of a wall," he said.

"If you think that's impressive… wait until you see the inside," Adam told them with a self-satisfied smirk.

There were some strange markings covering the rim of the entrance, visible now that they were closer to it. A language lost to time perhaps. Shiro looked over the sigils with curiosity as they stepped into the structure. Their footsteps, still laden with snow, were muted as they walked through a narrow passage that soon opened up into a small room that held nothing more than a ten-foot wide pool of water.

"This is it?" Shiro asked, eyebrows raised with confusion. There was nothing remarkable about where Adam had led them to.

"Don't be daft," the researcher was quick to say, his tone dismissive. "We're almost there now. Hope you don't mind a quick swim."

The group watched as Adam, without further word, dived straight into the pool before them and disappeared into its dark depths.

"Are you kidding me right now?" Shiro said. He didn't have to touch the water to know it was going to be freezing. "Is he really as loopy as I thought he was?"

Osceola jostled his side with his elbow, a slight reprimand despite the grin threatening to emerge on the corner of his lips.

"He did say it was a short swim."

"Yeah, right."

"Now, now, Father. Are you an exorcist, or not?" Tamara hovered over the pool with an intrigued gleam in her eyes. She looked over her shoulder, meeting Shiro's gaze with a challenging one of her own, before she, too, dove in.

Crazy, Shiro thought as he took a slow couple of steps forward. He glared at the rippling water, staring down at the warped sight of his scowling reflection. "Have I mentioned how sick and tired I am of being cold yet?"

Osceola's chuckle reverberated in the small cavern.

"You gonna need a hand there?"

"Tch. No thanks."

Shiro pressed his hands together and muttered a dismissive chant beneath his breath. The comforting heat of his fire summon seeped away like a dimming light bulb. He took in a readying breath, already feeling goosebumps rising up the length of his arms.

"See you on the other side."

Ice, cold water surrounded him as he took the plunge. His bare stomach contracted painfully, and Shiro grit his teeth, bearing through it in the same way one would a spearing wound. He wasted no time looking for the path his comrades had taken. The narrow passage was in clear sight, and Shiro swam towards it, cleaving through the water in a handful of strong strokes. His clothes clung to him like a second pair of skin, but the water was still and easy to navigate through. He emerged on the other side a little numb, but hardly winded.

"Whoa…"

Shiro floated closely towards the ledge. His mouth hung open as he took in the sight before him. Adam had not been kidding after all. Before him lay a cloistered wonder, humbled by time, yet no less impressive in its age. The cavern stretched and stretched upward, just as imposing in its towering length from within as it had been from outside. Winding, crumbling staircases paved the stone gray walls, leading to paths unseen. In front of him, a dozen more pools of water rested calmly, an eerie, luminescent glow lurking from beneath their dark depths.

"Incredible, isn't it?" Adam said. Beside him, Tamara nodded, the movement slow, appraising. That awed shine was back, peeking through the stern, studious look that covered her face.

Shiro's fingers pressed against the stone floor as he pushed himself up to his feet.

The air was still, but the chill that awaited them outside still seeped through the cavern. He shivered and shook his head. Thick droplets escaped the tips of his hair, his pants, the scarves hanging from his arms, all puddling beneath him. He reached into the pocket of his jacket, intending to take out his book of summons, but the movement caught Tamara's attention.

"Oh, don't trouble yourself. I've got this."

Tamara's hands glowed and her voice carried across the vast cavern as a young, fairy-like water demon—a Nereid—emerged from one of the pools at her command. The demon got straight to work, its boyish face puffing up as it took in a single, gulping, breath. The air trembled for the span of a heartbeat—then, the moisture in the air lessened. The water weighting their clothes down slowly detached from the fabric, from the surface of their skin, and the clear beads of water were drawn in the direction of the demon, who swallowed it all down with gusto. When they were all dry, the Nereid let out a decisively satisfied noise—before dissolving with a loud splash as Tamara dismissed it in a quick motion, the magic circle tattooed on her skin fading back to black.

"That's a handy trick."

Shiro glanced behind just in time to see the faint, glossy outline of the bubbles that surrounded Osceola and Lucy before they disappeared with a resounding, wet pop.

Tamara raised an eyebrow. "Likewise."

Lucy grinned, twirling her pipe between her fingers gracefully. The two exorcists were completely dry despite their delayed appearance. Shiro connected the dots and suddenly regretted having turned down their earlier offer. It would have saved him the cold swim.

"Where's Sir Pheles?" Adam asked, drawing closer to the group upon noticing the absence of the last member of their group.

Osceola shrugged lightly. "He stayed behind. There's no point in him coming any further."

"He ought to be kept under watch," Tamara objected with a click of her tongue. "Who knows what that demon will be up to in our absence."

Shiro was absolutely sure that the only nefarious thing Mephisto was up to right now was converting that cramped, cold room into a mini luxury resort. He would not be surprised if, when they returned, the Demon King was resting on his trusty, plump couch, reading manga and snacking on sweets while a warm fire flickered at his feet.

Best not to put that thought in any of their heads though.

"You'd rather spend more time putting up with his nonsense? No thanks," Shiro said instead. "Let him freeze his ass off by the entrance. Maybe we can make a snowman out of him when we get back," he joked, and that, at least, did help evaporate some of Tamara's tension. The Norgegian exorcist let out a small sigh, and Shiro shared a small smile with her before catching Adam's eyes.

"Come on, let's get this trip over with. Professor, if you would?"

Adam nodded sharply. He took the lead once more as they walked past the luminescent pools and towards the nearest flight of stairs. They climbed. Every once in a while, the professor took them through what he called a shortcut and Shiro internally called an inconvenience to the mental map he was trying to draw out.

Despite knowing better, the all-consuming silence made the cavern seem deserted. The bleak, gray walls felt oppressing in their height, and the more they climbed, the less inclined Shiro felt to peer down at the distancing safety of the ground floor. He was eager to get this task over with. The unrelenting chill that permeated through the structure was making him irritable; then again, Shiro could hardly think of a time where that wasn't the case. Winter had never favored him with pleasant memories—not in those early days of his childhood, where he spent a majority of his time in the clinically frigid conditions of Section 13's laboratories; not in the scattered weeks he'd been homeless and with little means to fend for himself after having run away from the Order... It had been a snowy day, too, when he'd been forced to say his last farewell to the man who had once appointed himself as his mentor. Shiro hadn't cared much for him, not really, but it hadn't been until that moment, when the man took his very last breath, that Shiro realized how alone he felt in the world he had been born into. That crudely scabbed wound had been torn open further only days ago, as Yuri's life ebbed away, cradled in his arms...

"This is it."

Shiro blinked, casting away the painful memories. His gaze darted towards the front in time to see Osceola and Adam team up to pull open a heavy iron gate.

The view on the other side certainly looked ceremonial. The walls were decorated with delicately carved illustrations: a sea of carnations, marigolds, and peonies bloomed from multiple, connecting branches that stretched all the way up towards the ceiling. Statues of long forgotten deities stared down at them, their chipped fingers knotted together in prayer. At the center of the room, there was a large body of water covered in lily pads that surrounded an isolated, oval-shaped platform. Shiro took careful notice of the writing that covered the floor of the platform—the illegible symbols were much like the ones he'd seen around the entrance door.

"Alright then." Shiro took a slow, quiet breath as he stepped up to the front of the group. "Get ready," he said, squaring his shoulders before approaching the center of the platform.

He knelt down and brushed his fingers down the textured floor. Shiro could feel everyone's gazes burning into his back as he spoke in a strong, steady voice.

"...I call upon the Maiden of the Sea and the Sky. I speak thy name, Sirin, and summon thee." Immediately, Shiro began to feel a low hum of power thrumming beneath his skin. A tiny, whisper of a song reverberated within the cavern. Then, a slight tremor rumbled beneath their feet. The lily pads rocked as the water surrounding the platform began to ripple.

"My, my." An ethereal voice rang out as sweet and as clear as a bell. "It has been a while since I've had visitors."

A figure emerged from the water, at first indiscernible, a being of little substance; then, the cascading water revealed a thin, womanly shape. Beautiful iridescent scales covered the body of the demon, up the length of her waist, the swell of her small breasts, decorating every inch of her bird-like face.

"Sirin," Shiro said, staring up at the demon. "I ask that you lend me thy power so that the souls of the dead may be put to rest."

A sly smile crept across the demon's face. Her eyes gleamed, a dark honeyed amber that seemed to peer into the depths of Shiro's heart. "You seek a pact with me?" she asked. The words danced around them, whimsically soft. "How amusing. Let's see if you can handle me."

Faster than the span of a blink, the demon darted forward, aiming the razor-sharp nails of her claws towards him. Shiro nimbly ducked out of the way, somersaulting backwards with one hand. He was on his feet, aiming a pair of handguns at her within the next second.

"Lucy!" Shiro said sharply as he began to fire off several rounds into the demon. Sirin ducked back under water, only to reappear just as quickly, chuckling in response. The continued exposure to her melodious voice was making him weak in the knees. He knew the others were not faring any better.

Thankfully, Lucy wasted no time producing several air-filled bubbles around their heads. All sound became muted at once, though their vision remained clear. Shiro shot a few more rounds towards the demon, taking a quick inventory of the group as she jerked her body away from his aim. Adam and Lucy had pulled back, away from Sirin's primary range of attack, and they were studiously chanting, radiant magic circles hovering in front of them. Tamara had drawn out a long segment staff, and with a few muttered words, the tip of it sharpened, the shape now closer to one of a spear. Osceola was already in the midst of it all, aiming powerful punches at Sirin. The thick bangles on his wrists were glowing, and a purple aura had engulfed every inch of his muscled arms, enhancing his strength.

The demon was quicker than any of them had been expecting, gliding through the water with ease, and only joining them on the solid ground to unleash a flurry of precisely aimed attacks, which they, at times, struggled to parry with. Osceola and Tamara tangoed with her quite well, trading blow after blow with no breath to spare—but the water was their greatest disadvantage and Sirin wasted no time to exploit that. As if in the midst of a torrential storm, the water began to swirl violently and formed pillars that rose up to the ceiling. Their limited ground became damp and difficult to navigate through. Lesser demons emerged from the water. Shiro immediately switched targets, picking off each of the piranha-like pests that tried to get in between Tamara and Osceola's two-tag assault.

The pillars of water grew and grew, thick cyclones that tore apart anything that came across their path. Lucy's focus switched from fortifying their attacks, to dealing with their water problem. She summoned several Nereides, taking a page out of Tamara's book. It was a slow process, even with a dozen of them at work, but their foe felt the change immediately, narrowing her bright eyes at them in irritation. A tall wave crashed heavily into Adam's barrier in retaliation, and more were following. Knowing they could not afford any more distractions, Shiro turned his focus back on her. His next shots were aimed at the ceiling space above Sirin's head. As debris began to cascade onto her, Osceola managed to get a good punch into her gut that slammed her against the wall.

Sirin let out an inaudible snarl.

Shiro could not afford to even stop to smirk at the sight, because in the next second, a whip-like sensation struck his back painfully and he fell to the ground in one fell swoop, breathless. He grit his teeth, rolled over to avoid the second coming of the water whip, and aimed the next shot straight at her face. The bullet went straight through her eye.

Sirin reared back. She let out a visibly pained screech and pushed everyone away by a few inches with another crashing wave of water. Her hands clutched her face. Her hair splayed out behind her, flailing wildly in fury. Shiro shot another few rounds, aiming at her other eye as he scrambled to his feet, but just before making contact, the bullet was slapped to the side by her hair. The tentacle-like strands stilled then, and as she held Shiro's gaze through the gaps of her fingers, murder etched on her pretty face, her hair slowly dropped down to her back, sticking to her scaly skin, then merging with it. A thin, membrane-like film developed over the thick locks, raw and red and delicate. And similarly to a cocoon, the skin broke apart grotesquely as a pair of wings, bloody and as dark as her hair had been, emerged from her back. She took flight immediately.

It was much harder fighting her now that she was airborne—now that she was feeling furious rather than playful. But they were wearing her down little by little. Sirin was vicious, relentless, and clever, but there was only one of her, and five of them. Lucy got on the offensive herself, aiming a few energy beams at the demon. Between that and Shiro's own barrage, they managed to shoot her down, and Tamara stepped up then, summoning a pair of eels that tightly wrapped around their foe, and shocked her.

Outside the safe confines of their bubbles, Sirin's melodious voice let out a shuddering wail.

Knowing she had little strength left to resist, Adam and Lucy took their chance to summon a pair of purple chains that cuffed her wrists together. A collar of the same material materialized around her neck. Shiro kept his guns pointed at her.

"It's over," he told her.

Sirin let out a snarl, bearing her pointed teeth at him, but the smoldering fire in her golden eye lessened after all was said and done. She slumped slightly, an admission of her defeat. A small bubble of laughter escaped her as she shook her head ruefully.

"You're a strong bunch," Shiro heard her admit once the bubbles surrounding everyone's heads popped out of existence.

"What is your name?" she asked.

Shiro took a step forward, but did not lower his aim. "Fujimoto Shiro."

Sirin nodded minutely. "I will lend you my aid. Come close, I will teach you the words."

Shiro did not lower his guns until he was in front of her, and even then, his fingers remained light on the triggers. He repeated the words she spoke into his ear, standing tautly even though he wanted nothing more but to shiver at the sound of her voice.

When it was all said and done, she merely raised her cuffed wrists; a pointed gesture. Lucy and Adam cautiously dismissed the restraints they had summoned, allowing Sirin to pull back.

She stared straight into Shiro's eyes. He wondered what she was thinking, what she was hoping to find as that bright amber gaze pierced into the depths of his own.

"I will see you again," she promised with a slight inclination of her head before dissolving away to tend to her wounds.

Shiro blinked, the tension in his shoulders finally melting away.

"Well," he said. "That was fun."

He felt sore now that the adrenaline of the battle was wearing off. He'd taken a few hard hits, but the fight had been more winding than life-threatening. He turned around to take stock of how everyone else was doing. Though they had made a solid plan before getting here, the fight had dragged on for longer than they had anticipated.

"Not bad, paladin," Osceloa said, shooting Shiro a tired smile as he ran his hand through his damp hair. The man barely spotted a bruise, just a handful of surface nicks from Sirin's claws.

"Not so bad yourself. All of you." He caught Tamara's gaze with a raised eyebrow. "That last move of yours really came in handy. Just what else do you have up your sleeve?"

Tamara smirked, wiping a bit of blood off her cheek. "I'm sure you'll be well acquainted with a few more by the time all this is over."

"Heh. Your reputation really does precede you." His eyes lingered on her for a bit longer, but he determined she did not look any worse for the wear.

"Well then, if none of you need medical attention, let's get going. We've got a long way to go."

It was Shiro who took the lead on their way back down, and when it was time to cross through the underwater tunnel, he more than happily asked Lucy to do her bubble trick one last time.

"Welcome back!"

Mephisto greeted them cheerfully as they returned. He was sitting cross-legged on the floor, a warm fire in front of him, and a stack of bento boxes at his side, one of which he was already digging into himself.

"How did it go?" he asked brightly after swallowing down a mouthful of octopus-shaped sausages.

"...This isn't a field trip, you know," Tamara said, her face impassive save for her eyebrow twitching in irritation.

Osceola put a hand on her shoulder. "Now, now. Let's not look a gift horse in the mouth, huh?"

"She has a point," Shiro interceded, although he was eyeing the campfire with longing. He swallowed dryly, suddenly wishing for the warm comfort of a cigarette. "I'm ready to get out of this place," he said instead. "We can eat on the go."

"Hmm, well, if you're sure," was Mephisto's only response.

The light tone made Shiro look past him, past the short tunnel that led them outside. He was unsurprised to see that it had finally begun to snow. The tiny frozen droplets almost looked like feathers as they drifted from the sky.

He groaned. Of course, he thought, completely exasperated at their luck.

They really had no choice but to settle down for a while.