A/N:

I do not own or profit from any of what Kazue Kato has created.

Choice. The deceptively simple single-syllable word that rules every human life, and the entirety of human history. Each choice made is a chisel-stroke that carves the world to be: and each discarded possibility peeled away is the seed of a world that could have been.

Each choice shapes the future.

Each choice is shaped by the human who makes it.

Each choice shapes the human who makes it.

And since their very first Choice at the dawn of time, humans have excelled at choosing wrong.

"Am I doing the right thing?"

Shiro tapped the cigarette restlessly with a finger. Uncounted kilometres disappeared beneath his feet without taking him anywhere; smoke travelled in and out of his lungs without dredging up any answer. He wasn't the one pulling the trigger, but... Hadn't he just killed an unknown number of faceless, featureless pawns…?

"Just like he did."

Soldiers - orphans. Assassins - kids. How could words make such a difference? How is it that words decide if a victory is a loss? If the one who wins the loss is a hero or a murderer?

Words…

"Yeah: all you need is words, you slippery old goat. They sure make life a hell of a lot harder for humans."

Mephisto didn't have any choice but to protect his secret: Shiro could understand that. If the Order found out who he really was there would be distrust and expulsion and a hunt that bordered on war; war with death tolls sky-high in the human ranks. In that sense, sacrificing a few to spare many…

"They were kids."

Indoctrinated kids that had never had a choice. Maybe they could have been reasoned with, could have been made to take reason and even end the conflict; and instead...

"There are things you just don't do."

There are unforgivable things, and it doesn't matter if you have a conscience or not: the act itself is- Tch, listen to the hypocrite preach! Wasn't he cold, when he had to? Hadn't he killed rather than reasoned? And hadn't he just made a choice that would kill even more…?

"Fuck, I don't know, I…" Shiro ran a hand through his unkempt hair for the umpteenth time. It didn't clear his thoughts up one bit: embracing the imprint or suppressing it – what was he doing, really? "Am I doing the right thing…?" Leaving lives to be tossed and torn by the winds of war: not exactly the paragon of kindness. "If I helped him get to the Cardinal…" Help a demon get his claws on a man of the church? "Hell – pick your poison, that's all it is."

Shiro's conscience kep whining like a hungry dog at the back of his mind, pawing and scratching at him to do something. Well, what was he supposed to do, then? Back at the same old crossroads, with the same impossible choice: who lives and who dies? Sacrifice one to spare many…? Was it right? Was it wrong? Should he stand idly by and watch Mephisto hunt Tanzi down, clinging to hypocritical innocence, or should he...

"Tch, he'll get the Cardinal, with or without my hand in it: my options are 'save people' or 'don't save people'."

That should make the choice easier: should make it a lot easier. So why had he turned the offer down…?

"I don't exactly care for Tanzi…"

No, on the contrary: a coward who trained kids – no, raised kids, like lambs for slaughter – to fight his war, while he sat comfortably in a red dress in Italy and counted rosary beads… Shiro had no sympathy for a man like that.

"He started this whole damn circus; let him have what's coming", he thought grimly.

That was to simplify things. A lot. Shiro knew that. It was a different story from the Cardinal's perspective: of course it was scary to learn that Satan's son had wheedled himself into the Order. Of course you'd try to do what you believed was right…

"Choices: always these damn choices."

…but a man of the church ought to know better. Didn't they teach Forgiveness and Understanding and all those things important enough to earn capital letter?

"That you have a crap dad doesn't mean you're crap, too. He might be a demon…" Shiro drew a breath on his cigarette. That calm look on Mephisto's face, a look no human could wear when admitting something like that… "…but hasn't he made choices?" Choices like leaving Gehenna for Assiah, putting his own life at stake in denouncing his father and joining the Order of the True Cross, aiding humans in building a force to resist the hordes of he-

Shiro chuckled darkly as the irony struck him. Tanzi trained kids to fight his war, eh?

"And you train your kids to fight yours." It was so warped and twisted it was almost funny. "And sacrificing demons to win those kids advantages in that war. That's not chess you play; it's chess and shogi and othello, all mixed up with rules only you know."

He blew smoke up at a darkening sky that was still light enough that you didn't feel like going to bed. A perfect night for walking. Summer paced with sure steps towards exams and did her best to distract students with warm evenings and song of birds and cicadas in the heavy foliage in the parks. And less pleasant things. Daylight waning, he could feel the prickling attention of demons lick over his consciousness as he walked, and let his heart grow dead and cold in the warmth: the merry chirping fell hollow on his ears, and the magic shimmer of the sunset dulled. All around him, the world faded behind the veil of safety. Snug and safe like an isolation cell. No open cracks this time.

Oh, it had advantages. The reaction time between decision and action was much shorter without all sidetracking doubts laid out by compassion. The world around him was easier to survey tactically, with emotional response and other distractions dulled. He'd heard the word from Matsuri-sensei plenty of times after missions: efficient. A word a demon could use – what's an efficient exorcist, when you think about it? An efficient soldier. An efficient killer. A cold-hearted bloody machine.

"If I help you capture the bishop, no other pieces need to be taken?" he pondered, and drew another breath of smoke as he walked a world stripped down to its bare bones: a world of faceless chess pieces and positions that could be surrendered or defended. "That's a nice bargain. I should take it, shouldn't I? You know it eats me, what I did down in Deep Keep. You know I'd have it undone if I could – that I would've saved everyone, if I'd had that choice." He rested his eyes on the glow of his cigarette, a smoulder gently burning holes in the dusk. "I have that choice now: you gave it to me."

He frowned: even under lockdown, the wrongness of the words struck a chord of caution that made him shudder. Demons don't give: they sell. And that's where doubt gnawed at him: there had been no mention of what Mephisto would gain if he accepted the offer. Only that strange flare in his eyes.

"I don't know what kind of game you play, but I'm not gonna be part of it." Selfish. A selfish coward, just like his father; running from the mess he had helped create rather than- "Fuck that", he snarled at his thoughts. "This ain't no ordinary mess." Get stuck in that intricate shadow-web and you were never coming out of it. "I'm not gonna be anybody's pawn: even if that means more people will die." Shiro could almost feel the excited hiss from demons applaud his decision. His choice.

"Look tasty, do I?" he said to the night, and tapped ash off his cigarette. "Why don't you come at me, you fucks? Afraid of one puny human?"

He wasn't exactly armed, but one switchblade knife can deal good damage when the blade is soaked in holy water: and he was in the mood for fighting something. Thinking of impossible dilemmas frustrated him, charged his patience with a static that would somehow, sooner or later, have to be discharged.

"Tch, demons", he huffed at the darkness when nothing answered his taunt. "Always playing their bloody games."

And the more powerful they were, the more dangerous the games. It didn't bother him as much as it should have. The game. The scheme. The unspoken goal. Mephisto knew what he was doing: Tanzi didn't. There had never been an earthquake at St. Nicholas if there hadn't been exorcists there that knew secrets humans weren't supposed to know.

Humans like Shiro: how folly unites the human race! Tanzi and Fujimoto, the only two humans in the world who knew! The only two humans in the world that might have a chance at stopping the devil that pulled strings in the darkness.

Pff, "stop him"... Tanzi had tried, and now he was hiding in a warded bunker that would be his grave. "Stopping him" was a delusion for suicidal fools. Mephisto was far too smart to get caught, far too skilled at the game he played…

"Heh… hehehehahahahaha oh you clever, sneaky son of a bitch…!"

Far too smart to get caught, far too skilled to suffer consequences even if he were caught - but far too much of a gambler to play it safe. There's no fun without risk, no thrill without danger; didn't Shiro understand that better than anyone? Wasn't that why Mephisto had taken off the mask and offered him to play?

"Not a pawn, but a joker." He chuckled; chuckled the way you do when the devil reaches forth a hand and invites you to dance. "Always appreciate a challenge, do you? A game within the game, a piece that knows it's a piece and moves erratically on the board; wouldn't that be fun? Wouldn't that be a much more interesting game?" Wouldn't that be one hell of a dance?

The mere fact that it tempted him spoke volumes. Fujimoto Shiro the prankster, Fujimoto Shiro the daredevil: would he actually dare the devil, and play his game…?

"You'd think I have a death wish."

Yes, but not a wish for death: a wish for life. A wish for life the way it fluttered at the top of your lungs when it sucked the breath out of you. Some are cut out for a run-of-the-mill existence, some aren't. Some are born to gamble at the highest stakes; drawn like moth unto flame.

There would be even more choices on the game board; terrible choices, if you had a conscience. Mephisto would make the ones that furthered his cause – whatever the hell that was – without thinking twice about it, but Shiro would-

"I would be the conscience he hasn't got." His feet moved more slowly, then, as he pondered all that would mean.

Off the board, you can only watch the game.

On the board, you can play it.

On the board, he'd have a say against destroying orphanages and-

"Is it worth it?" Kasumi's voice. Kasumi's face, sincere with emotion. For him.

Shiro stopped entirely, frozen on the asphalt path seemingly for no reason.

"If Shiro-kun wants to pretend is fine, I will pretend it is." Midori's eyes, filled with melting gold…

Choices aren't isolated events. There are ripples on the water where they fall, touching everything that lies around.

Shizuku talked to him again. Kasumi flirted back when he made advances; he would go to the crafts market with both them and Ryuuji, he had a scholarship to continue his studies, a promising future as an exorcist… For the first time, a promising future.

It's easier to gamble when you haven't got so much to lose; when you haven't got so many to lose.

Is it worth it?

No. No, he was better off beside the board. Tanzi was a fool for thinking he could play against Mephisto: wouldn't he be an even greater jackass, if he thought he could steer the game on the demon's own half of the board? No, the stakes were too high, the gains too uncertain. Leave it to the demon to play: to whatever end that meant.

"I have no idea what your goal is, but…" Shiro stomped out the cigarette butt on the paved walkway. "…I know you want Assiah safe." The conviction that held the ground firm under his feet whenever he lost himself in guesses and speculation: Mephisto wanted Assiah safe. It was a downright ridiculous claim to make, unless you knew who that white-clad jester really was. "You could've destroyed it all long ago if you wanted to. You could've enslaved humanity in a day and built a new Gehenna with yourself as king. It's been a thousand years and more, and you still haven't." The strangeness of it all condensed into a small smile on his lips; the kind of smile Midori smiled, aglow with secrets and the soft warmth of knowing not in mind, but in heart. "You may not have a conscience, but you really do like humans."

Not all who knew Mephisto's identity had made that connection, however. Cardinal Tanzi ought to have put two and two together when he learnt Samael's true name: instead, he had chosen to wage war against the most powerful demon that had ever set foot in Assiah. Attack in chess, and you will receive due response.

"I don't know what you think, Mephisto, but to me he sounds like an idiot."

Smart people can make stupid choices, and stupid people can make smart choices: because Choice is a wild guess veiled in the illusion of free will. Choice, just like Chance, is a deceptive nature, revealing its true form only in the curves and dents of the future it creates: whether a choice is right or wrong is left for time to uncover. But, regardless, some things will always be true.

Each choice shapes the future.

Each choice is shaped by the human who makes it.

Each choice shapes the human who makes it.

…and even at the dawn of time, when humans made their very first Choice, the options were whispered into their ears with serpentine sweetness.

A/N: Who else plays chess, shogi and othello at once, with messed-up rules? Orihara Izaya… (Sometimes I wonder what would happen if these two met. It's a scary thought.)