A/N: I do not own or profit from any of what Kazue Kato has created.
It was the kind of place that doesn't exist in reality. On postcards, yes, but not in reality. Real grass isn't that green, and real sky can't be that viciously blue. The lush valley cradled the community as one would a newborn, and parted its sloping walls like drawn curtains to reveal a landscape of wild forests and mountains tinted blue by heavy mist.
"Ah, what a beautiful day!" Mephisto looked like he would embrace the whole scenery in his outstretched arms. "A day for diplomacy to vanquish enmity and tie the bonds of brotherhood across the dividing chasms of ideals! Don't you agree, Shiro? …oh, marvellous. Clean, fresh mountain air, and the first thing you do is pollute it with your cigarettes."
"Turn your sensitive nose some other direction, princess." Shiro drew a bliss breath, and felt his stomach settle. In the end, the winding mountain roads did get him carsick. "It's been thirteen hours since I last had a smoke – that's like thirteen hours without arcade games, books or TV for you."
"Completely irrelevant comparison", he frowned, slinging his pink umbrella over his shoulder. Mephisto did fit the environment, sort of: real umbrellas weren't that pink.
"Oh yeah?" Shiro grinned and retrieved his duffel from the car. "Let's bet on that, shall we? See who can hold out longer: you without entertainment, or me without smokes."
Mephisto turned the umbrella slowly between his fingers, measuring him with a calculating gaze.
"If I win, you quit smoking."
"Really bugs ya, does it?" Shiro smiled and trailed the winding smoke with his eyes. "And if I win…" Should he make him give up gaming, books and TV? That was just too cruel… "You have to wear normal clothes for a week." Seeing the demon's perplexed mien, he snickered. "Need me to tell you what's normal…?" He gestured at himself. "Shirt, long trousers, and a suit jacket. Single colour. No pinks or purples." And with a devilish grin, he yanked playfully at Mephisto's cravat. "And a plain, black tie. No polka-dots."
Mephisto's eyes narrowed, and he tugged his beloved cravat back in place.
"When we return to the Academy, the bet is on."
"Sure is."
The Futotsuki clan's village was too small to house any greater number of visitors, and it lay in rather wild terrain: for those reasons, and somebody's opinion of neutrality, a nearby scenic tourist resort had been selected for the meeting instead. The resort wasn't much larger than the village, in actuality, but it had two ryokan – one on each slope of the small valley – that would serve as lodgings.
Shiro drew a deep breath of warm summer air and had to admit that yes, it tasted much better than in the city. When Mephisto wasn't looking, he loosened the tie and undid the top button of his shirt. The demon had demanded that he wear the full uniform for the occasion, despite the temperature. Something about looking proper. Well, screw looking proper: Mother Nature dictated the terms for dress code, and today the code was "not more than necessary".
They were greeted by a traditionally clad elderly man surrounded by the air of ease that comes with age and experience. He didn't seem at all fazed by the purple hair or the pointy ears it betrayed. Then again, he might not be able to see demons.
"Welcome to our village", he said in a creaky voice, bowing with an equally creaky back. "I am Honda Shinobu, and I preside over the logistics for this event. We have two ryokan, as I'm sure you can see-" Shinobu cut himself short and blinked a couple of times at Shiro. "A bit warm, young man? Why, it certainly is. Such a beautiful day, no? Please, we can talk in the entrance hall of Kiridani Ryokan where the air conditioning is running. Odds are at least one of you is booked to stay there."
Shiro ignored Mephisto's less-than-pleased glares and followed. His carsickness dissipated quickly as the old man led them down the gravel road to the ryokan closest by. It was a beautiful, old-fashioned construction, three stories high, with artfully cut shrubs lining the paved walkway. The foyer was small, but cool: something others, too, had taken advantage of. There were uniformed men and women chattering in different tongues in different corners, some of them Western and some Japanese, and boisterous kids running around on the marble tiles and playing exorcists and demons: at least Shiro assumed so, since a blonde girl who caught her little brother promptly set to declaim some loud gibberish and crossing herself.
At the reception counter, they were asked for their names.
"Sir Pheles, Mephisto."
"Fujimoto Shiro."
The receptionist was very cute, which made Shiro pay enough attention to her face to notice the brief, odd look she quickly hid.
Minutes later, he understood why.
"You did what…?"
Shiro was okay with Mephisto's preferences. He was okay with anything, as long as it didn't involve him. Didn't that sound like a simple and handy differentiation…? No. Because regardless who was on his menu and who wasn't, Mephisto was an incurable prankster and a pathological tease.
"I don't believe it! Of all the things you could…! You wrote me in on the guest list as your wife?!"
"Say it a little louder, I don't think the Venetian ambassador's interpreter caught it all", Mephisto replied pleasantly. They had assumed seats in the far corner, which had become vacant after one diplomat had said goodbye to his wife and kids and left to check in at the other ryokan. "I wrote you in as attaché, and the accommodation is divided into 'diplomatic envoys' and 'attachés'; the latter of which in this case means spouses and families."
The most devious ability in demons is not magic, nor strength or cruelty or claws: it is their figurative silver tongues. That's how they bend and twist reality to have exactly the shape that suits them.
"That's the whole problem: the only ones staying here are their families. I'll stand out like a sore thumb, and you know what the diplomat wives will do?" he seethed, feeling a vein bulge ominously at his temple. "They will sit around the playground, watch their little runts tumble in the dirt, and gossip about the Japanese Branch Director's male concubine!"
"You are most welcome to share my room in the diplomats' building, if you believe that would generate less gossip." Mephisto's smile was so earnestly amicable that a person who didn't know him would believe that he really meant to help. Shiro did know him, and his willingness to help was as rudimentary as his drawing skills. "I don't believe I will make much use of it anyway", he mused aloud, twirling the umbrella slowly with its tip resting on the floor. "Futotsuki territory has always been a haven for demons, and this time of year there are plenty of night-time festivities in the woods. It would be a nice change, after long hours in hard chairs…"
Night-time festivities: Mephisto had a silver tongue indeed. Shiro masked his laughter with a disgruntled huff. Oh, he could imagine what 'night-time festivities' meant: plenty of woodcut illustrations of that in old witch-hunting manuals.
"Can take the demon out of hell, but can't take hell out of the demon?" he chuckled, tipping his lighter back and forth in his fingers. "What a splendid hypocrite you are – and right under the noses of the Vatican representatives."
"Hypocrite? Hardly~ True to my love for Assiah and true to my nature as a demon: where, do tell, can you glean hypocrisy in that?" he asked in lilting tones. "When Assiah offers her treasures in such unconditioned abundance, how can anyone resist to sample her riches? Without tasting life in all its forms and varieties, how can anyone claim to be truly alive? No, hypocrisy belongs to the humans who pretend they don't hear the sweet song of the flesh, and who scorn its promises of rapture behind masks of morality." The smile on his face grew wider, like a cat stretching in the sun, and his voice dropped a half tone: "And while the holy preach truth to human ears, demons whisper honesty to their hearts."
Though he tried to deny it, the statement grew icicles along Shiro's spine. What he said was true, and truth… has power. Never listen to a demon's deceptive words is the most basic rule of exorcism: the most important rule of exorcism. Kids fifteen years old learnt it. Every exorcist in True Cross Order knew it. And yet, at the heart of that Order, one demon's words were allowed access to the ears of exorcists and Grigori and Pope.
A demon who had sworn himself to the human side.
A demon who was the Devil's flesh and blood.
A demon so exceptionally skilled with words that he had negotiated a contract with the Pope himself.
Never listen to a demon's deceptive words.
Dredged from the depths of Shiro's consciousness by the chill, Midori's words added to his discomfort: 'A demon who can fool the Pope is a good liar…'
"Good with twisting words, yeah: but a liar…? He does protect Assiah from Satan…"
'…and a bad thing to have around.'
"He has the capacity to crush the Order, won't deny that, but… he could have done that long ago, if that's what he wanted. Tch, stuck between one demon's words and another's." He smiled darkly at himself. Yeah, some exorcist he was. He tapped his lighter thoughtfully against his knee, not sure what to think. Mephisto was good with words, alright, but there were parts of what he'd just said that didn't add up. "Fancy words aside: wouldn't you go to Court for sinful and unnatural conduct if you 'sampled' all varieties of Assiah's riches?"
No, the impish look on his face said.
"Indeed, some of her fruits are forbidden me, but no rule without exception: the Vatican concerns itself with human virtue, not with demons' lack of such~" he said with a confident smirk, winking. "As long as I pick fruit from the right tree, and don't involve poor humans in debauchery, no Pope or priest will slap my fingers."
No, he wouldn't go to Court: and if he did, he would waltz out of there with the same smug, confident look as he had waltzed in. Such was the power of a demon's tongue.
Shiro stayed with the wives and the children, silently hoping that if he didn't act as if that was weird they wouldn't think it was. The hotel room he was given was nice. As in really nice. The tatami mats rustled softly under his bare feet, and there was even a small wooden table with everything needed for brewing tea. He pinched the futon in the closet and found it delightfully soft, and the view beyond the shoji doors was everything you could wish for – he even had a balcony!
Shiro didn't bother with hanging his clothes in the wardrobe, or unpacking anything except his razor and his toothbrush. It was only an overnight stay – if the meeting could reach a quick conclusion, at least. He assumed that if they kept disagreeing they would keep negotiating until they did agree on something, but he had no actual idea of how these things worked. Or how he was supposed to contribute.
"Role-model, eh?" He smiled at the bathroom mirror and dabbed after-shave over his now smooth jaw line. "We're hypocrites both, my friend."
When Shiro put his razor back in the duffel, he was surprised to notice the barrel of his gun sticking out under the spare underwear. Had he really packed that, for a diplomatic meeting…? Scowling and thinking back on the morning didn't help any; he'd been too tired and stressed and disarranged to really remember what he'd done. Apparently, training had hardwired him into bringing along a weapon wherever he went.
Diplomacy is an art governed by many peculiar rules, but there was one that Shiro felt he could agree completely with: never make a decision on an empty stomach. And so, all the participants were treated to dine out in the open, with kaiseki made exclusively from ingredients produced in the valley. As is customary, the host and the highest ranking sat facing each other at the centre of the table, and ranks descended out towards the ends.
Shiro was seated at the far end; one step short of being placed among the kids in the nearby restaurant. It made him feel partially forgotten and left out of the actual negotiations, which suited him just fine since the air of importance and formality made him uncomfortable anyway. To his left sat a male exorcist he didn't know. In front of him…
"Long time no see, Bigmouth~" she grinned, seating herself in seiza position with her arms to her sides and knowing full well what that did with her boobs. "Doin' well, eh? Must a' kicked some serious butt at exams ta get yeself a place 'ere."
"Oh, I'm doing well. I'm here as 'role-model', can you imagine?" he pulled a superficial smile, trying his best to keep his eyes on her face and his emotions thoroughly under control.
"Nah, I think ye're here fe' decoration", Kasumi jibed, mimicking a motion as if she trailed glasses strings from her temples.
"I like your decorations better", he said, letting his gaze drop for an instant in good company with a dirty smirk.
"Hoo~ someone hasn't been gettin' any in a while, eh? Attracting a different kind a' clientele wi' that finery, I'm guessin'~?"
And that… was why you never tried to battle Kasumi. No, he had been too busy to be "gettin' any": and if you counted a certain smug demon, he did attract a different kind of 'clientele'.
"I've been busy", he excused himself, thankful that she at least kept her voice low so that others might not hear. "Fancy meeting you here, though. Representing…?"
"The middle path", Kasumi said, smiling as she put her palms together, "of understanding an' respect. Spent some time with the Futotsukis, tried ta sow some seeds. Tanight we'll see if it did any good. An' how the 'ell are ye' a role-model…?"
"I'm turning out to be like the Futotsuki, basically." He could say it almost without effort: no cracks in the barrier, firm and solid as a rock wall. "Human, but have a good hand with demons." He nodded his head slightly towards the area of the table where important people sat. "Pheles requested that I tag along for that reason."
Kasumi's lips formed a quite inviting o-shape.
"The pendant ain't helping, then?"
"Shizuku's sister alright…" He drew a stabilizing breath. "I'm not allowed to wear it. I need to temper my mind and become my own shield." He nodded at the centre of the table again. "His idea."
"That's harsh", she deadpanned.
"He's a demon."
"Yeah, no shit…" She leaned forward to catch a better view of Mephisto down the table, and in doing so offered Shiro a most pleasant view of her… decorations. "Any idea why 'e's instructing ye an' not a Futotsuki?"
"Futotsuki-sensei hasn't been at school for a month-"
"I know: 'e's sittin' over there at the clan's side o' the table. There are other members at the Academy." Shizuku's sister, down to the way her eyes lost their mischievous glitter and went black and hard when she meant business. "Why would 'e take special interest in you?"
"Okay, look…" He was not about to have another fight. "Not when there's so many pines in the woods", he smiled despite himself. "Shizu-san and I haven't been on speaking terms for a while. We're locked at stalemate: he wants me to say what's 'off' about me, and I have nothing to tell him, so he's pissed. And honestly, it's so stupid it's unbelievable." Here goes: sink or swim… "He's worried that I'm spending so much time with Pheles. And Pheles takes special interest in me 'cause he's my friend. I have issues with demons." He met her eyes briefly, hoping to see them a little more brown than black. "And he wants to help me become an exorcist that can fend for himself without pendants; his methods are a little harsh at times, but he means well."
Kasumi blinked. Twice. Thrice. Opened her mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.
"Friend…? Shiro-kun, demons don't-" She halted her tongue, and a faint wrinkle nestled between her eyebrows. The tiny pixie of a woman looked him up and down pensively. "Role-model…" she repeated slowly to herself. "That's what it is…? A bond between demon an' human without sealing or binding?" The wrinkle deepened into a scowl, and there was no impish little pixie left in her. "Ye're walkin' thin ice there. The ways o' the Futotsuki are risky at best, but what yer doin' is downright crazy. Friend…?"
"Someone's gotta be first", he said, hope wound so tight around his nervous heart he could barely breathe. "Believe it or not, but we get along well." He softened his features and poured some humour into what he hoped was a convincing speech: "Unless you count the smoking: he takes my lighter away every time I visit his office or mansion."
"An' what does 'e make ye do…?" she asked tentatively. Still making up her mind, still unsure. "Fe' training, and fe' other stuff. What does 'e say te you?"
"He makes me block demons out by will instead of by charms." This might actually work, this might actually work…! "And he gives me reading recommendations, 'cause he thinks I'm an uneducated monkey. We share jokes, he corrects my grammar – Shizu-san always did that, too – and we talk about all sorts of things." He tried another offensive towards humour: "Ladies, for one. He enjoys watching the Takarazuka Revue, apparently. He can recite whole scenes from Berusayu no Bara by heart – in Japanese and French."
Kasumi hung onto his every word, lips slightly parted in a delicious look of concentration that made concentration on Shiro's part more difficult. And yet, the urges of his body were eerily powerless against the iron wall that enclosed his heart. As if the body wasn't part of him at all. As if anything he felt towards Kasumi was not part of him. The difference one crack in the barrier could make…
"Ye sound like friends", she said slowly. "That it's never happened before doesn't mean it's impossible, I s'pose…" A thin smile touched her lips. "If anyone can befriend a demon, it's a swaggering big-mouth like you. S'long s'ye keep ye wits about… ye gotta promise me ye break it off if 'e starts, ye know", she arced an eyebrow in Mephisto's direction, "acting demon. But as long as 'e does I guess it's fine. Heh, walkin' the middle path..." It was barely visible, but her smile stretched a liiiittle wider – and Shiro's breathing came a little easier. "Maybe ye're a role-model, maybe ye're an idiot." The mischievous spark flickered to life in her eyes. "Maybe ye'll show us an entirely different path ta walk." At the sound of a deep voice saying 'dozo', they both reached for their teacups and raised them in a welcoming toast. "Te you two little lovebirds", she snickered, and drank.
Being seated with Kasumi was a blessing. Never a dull moment with that mischievous tomboy; and Shiro could've sworn the exorcists on their respective sides scooted imperceptibly away from them as their conversation progressed. Kasumi was bold. Shameless. Impish.
Absolutely lovely.
During lunch, word reached them that unrest had broken out in parts of the Futotsuki territory, and that the meeting would have to be postponed until tomorrow when the last envoys could arrive. Kasumi formed part of the little team that would make the trip over there to help calm things down, saying she would see him again at the meeting. She had only to fetch her staff and she would be ready to go.
"I'll help ye talk Shizzy straight", she assured him when he rose - why did he rise? he wouldn't be going anywhere - and accompanied her to the foyer where the rest of the team was gathering. "I'll be headin' down that direction when the meeting's finished, so gimme a few days an' I'll be there."
"You could catch a ride with us", he suggested, and received that shrewd smile of hers. As if she knew something he didn't - like Midori.
"Ain't the pilgrim way, Shiro-kun. Ye walk ye' path with yer own feet, so ye know every puddle an' pebble along the way."
He had to give it a moment, but nodded at her words.
"You're so much like each other. Pilgrims that sound like scholars…"
"S' the puddles an' pebbles", she smiled, winked, and left through the door after the rest of the team.
A/N:
…I had to sort this out for myself. ^_^' If Mephisto is as old-school as he is with greed, gluttony, vanity, pride, and so on, I don't think it would be fair to exclude lust from the party. And I seriously doubt he's been celibate during his 200 years' service in the Vatican… But how does the Vatican handle that? Could they actually condone that a demon sleeps around with their emblem on his chest? Not really… and that's where Diplomacy steps in, dragging Compromise by the hand~
So, I imagine they let him do as he pleases (with whoever he pleases), as long as he does it with demons. After all, the Order's purpose is to protect humans, not teach demons morality.
Pedantic Dimwit: "But demons use human bodies to commit their heinous acts of debau-"
*clonk*
Pragmatic Dimwit: "That one…? No no no, just some raving cuckoo from Insomniac Dimwit's department, you don't wanna listen to that~" |-3 *hands crowbar back to Mephisto*