A/N: Well, lookie! I just bought volume 10, and after reading through the Q&A section I realised I had to go back and change a couple of things: the number of Gehennian kings, and my theory on summoning in ch 84. It may mean I have gotten Shiro's abilities as Tamer wrong… but the fic's adherence to canon is already heavily flawed, so a little more won't make much difference. ^_^'
The major flaw I'm talking about is Shiro's age: supposedly, he was about as young as Yukio was when he became an exorcist. (That volume wasn't out at the time I had begun writing… |'-D ) So my whole timeline is wrong, but… deleting everything I've done and starting from scratch would just be too much. x') I expect more inconsistencies like this, since the manga is still in the making, so… we'll have to live with the flaws, both you and I.
I do not own or profit from any of what Kazue Kato has created.
Love is like lobotomy. It's not a very flattering thing to say, but hell if it isn't true.
Especially at the Tanabata festival.
Noble Tentei, Emperor of the Heavens, had everything a man of his standing could wish for. He had forests of jade and meadows of coral flowers, a garden with peaches that granted immortality, and garments whose beauty outshone that of a thousand dawns. It was Orihime, the seventh of the Emperor's nine daughters, who wove the fabric and made the clothes for him, and thus she was called the Weaving Maid.
One day, Emperor Tentei found Orihime weeping by Amanogawa, the river of heaven. She grieved, she told him, that she had been so absorbed in her work that she had not had time to find love. This saddened Emperor Tentei immensely, and he arranged for his daughter to be wed to the young cowherd, Hikoboshi, who lived across the river.
It was a marriage whose tenderness grew with time, like the sweetness of the peaches in the Emperor's garden. However, the Emperor himself was not happy. Orihime, who had put all her effort into weaving, was now spending time with her husband and neglected her duties. As punishment, the Emperor of the Heavens decided to separate the couple, and returned Hikoboshi to the other side of Amanogawa. Only once every year, on the seventh day of the seventh month, did Emperor Tentei let a boatman ferry his daughter over to her husband so that they could be together: if Orihime had put enough effort into her weaving. If not, he would make the river of heaven would flood, so that the boatman would not be able to make the journey across.
"But if that happens, she'll just 'ave some magpies make a bridge for 'er so she can walk across. That's prob'ly a later addition ta the tale, if ya ask me. Somebody really wanted a happy endin'." Not only did Kasumi know a hundred tales: she told each one with minute care to every word and inflection, and the overall effect was amazing. Just how much it did for the story's mood was evident in how markedly her voice shifted when she left storytelling mode.
"How?" Shiro asked.
"How what?"
"How does she walk on birds?"
"On their wings, o' course. They line up wing tip ta wing tip and span the river."
"…but wouldn't they be flapping their wings to stay airborne?"
"Just shut up, would ya?" She flicked the cross on his glasses string with a playful smile. "It's a fairy tale: ye're not supposed ta think too much about the details."
"Alright, I'll shut up", he smiled back. "Now I see why you got that streamer. Cool thing, too."
"It's an umbrella, actually." She wiggled the rod that supported the flat shape of a fanciful magpie, whose tail consisted of long silk strips embroidered with green and blue. "Though it works better as a streamer."
A fairy tale indeed. True Cross transformed during festivals, like the idiomatic caterpillar turned a butterfly. The sky drowned in bright banners and flags that clustered the air above the streets, climbing as high as to the sixth floor of the towering houses. Bridges became giant garlands strung from building to building, or arcing across the river like rainbow-scaled dragons.
The people transformed, too. Grey suits were left to hang in favour of yukatas, and humble housewives bloomed into the most exquisite flowers garbed in bright colours and coiffed hair. The festive spirit made eyes glow and drummed the city's excited heartbeat against the streets with the clop-clop of geta and running children. It was summer, it was festival, and life was beautiful.
Love is, indeed, like lobotomy. Shiro couldn't remember when he had last been this happy, and he didn't really care to remember either. Happiness is a thing of the moment, like the jittery wings of a dragonfly, and is best enjoyed without thoughts of neither past nor future.
They watched the Taiko drummers on the central street parade, where it was so crowded the Kasumi had to climb up a lamppost to see. They watched the folk dancers that came next, and Shiro narrowly escaped her attempts to drag him in to dance with them: she still danced, though, and let him enjoy the baffled faces of the performers when she joined in.
They went to the big Shinto shrine north of the central district, where the air was thick with incense smoke that made Shiro's eyes water. They both wrote down wishes on coloured paper slips provided there, and hung them on the bamboo arrangement that had been put in the courtyard for the festival. Kasumi prayed for improved artisan skills; Shiro prayed for improved aim when shooting in motion.
"That's got nothing ta do with arts an' crafts!" she laughed when he'd told her.
"It could have", he defended through his freshly lit cigarette. "If I were really good at it, I could shoot patterns into the targets."
"Oh, I see: s'gotta be manly art, eh?" she grinned in that particular way that he found so cute yet promised hell for whoever underestimated her.
"Not manly, there's female Dragoons, too: just…" He shrugged. "I'm a practical guy; art's just decorative."
That set her off laughing like it was the most hilarious thing in the world. People they met along the sidewalk cast their strange looks away from the lunatic – really, even when it was festival that stiff varnish of propriety stayed on.
"It's not the result ye're after when ye make art, dumbass! It's the creation! Why d'ya think I sell off all the stuff I make?" she asked with smiling eyes and gleaming teeth. "I like making it, but I don't wanna own it. It's like life, ya know?" She plucked a flower off a pot arrangement and tucked it into her hair. "Ye can shape it into whatever ya like, but once it's complete there's nothing left ta do but ta toss it inta the fire an' start again on something new."
"…but is it ever complete?" He tried to put it lightly, but the part of him that really did wonder still betrayed its presence. "Isn't life a sculpture we continue to shape till the bitter end?"
"Well put: the sculpture that's neva' finished. Might come a time when yer hands're too weak an' tremblin' ta shape it, though." She braided her fingers into his: not the slim fingers of a lady, but the hard, scarred ones of a woman who earned her living with her hands. "An' I guess that's when ye're done, whether ye're pleased with the result or not."
"I suppose it is like that – makes sense when you say it, at least, but that could be your persuasive skills." He got an elbow in his ribs for that, and almost collided with another couple in the street when he dodged. "About not owning stuff and such: I don't know, since I haven't tried, but I think I could like travelling roads the way you do." He flicked away a coal tar that had taken too much interest in his glasses string. "I'd like to try it, at least – if you're okay with me tagging along, that is?"
Please, please, please…
"O' course!" she beamed. "Ye're family, ya dumbass. Besides, we could use somebody that looks normal. I'm not allowed in at public baths anymore, an' Shizzy gets accused o' stealing in grocery shops from time ta time, so ye could do the shopping an' fetchin' water", she chuckled wolfishly. "An' maybe cook the food while ye're at it…?"
"Yes, yes: and I could heat the water over fire and mix wild flowers into it before you bathe."
"An' wash our clothes."
"Of course: and polish Shizu's piercings."
When they had come down to the details of how he'd strap a flowerpot onto his head, so he could grow flax and make oil to treat their carvings with, they were laughing so hard they had to support themselves against a bus stop.
"I think we've taken this far enough, haven't we?" Kasumi wheezed through her guffaws.
"Yeah, I think we have."
"Anyway, ye can tag along next time ye've got holidays, if ya like."
If he liked? Oh come on, there was only one way to respond to that offer.
"Count me in!"
Kasumi was the only person other than Mephisto that he made an exception for, and let his emotions roam free. With her, he felt free. Like there wasn't a care in the world. Like that impish smile turned all shadows bright and-
-turned eating dumplings into a chopstick fencing match. He didn't even know when it began, only that they had aimed for the same dumpling and knocked their chopsticks together. Then it escalated, as all fun and silly things do.
"Oh, this means war."
"An' I'm winning it."
"You wish."
"No need ta wish if ye've got skill."
The battleground was a paper plate on a wobbly little folding table, and the last poor dumpling slipped around as chopsticks stabbed and were deflected.
"Banzai!" And while Shiro's chopsticks wrestled with hers, Kasumi's free hand plucked the needle out of her hair and skewered the dumpling. "I win!"
"That is not fair play!" he laughed.
"A girl's gotta make use of 'er assets~" She twirled her prize with a grin.
"That sounds… pervy."
"Yer mind makes it sound pervy", she returned with a playfully arced eyebrow. "Women have more assets than tits, ya know. We're smart, inventive, hard-working – an' considerate." She tipped the dumpling towards him.
"And you can make us guys eat out of your hands", he grinned as he locked eyes with her, leaned forward and bit off half of it.
"An' we enjoy doing it~"
Love… Yeah. Shiro could've been ploughed down by a rickshaw and he wouldn't even have noticed: with the needle gone, Kasumi's hair unfolded onto her shoulders in a slow-motion fall. It was like she transformed before his eyes, became younger, softer… and when her lips slipped the remaining dumpling off the needle, Love and its raunchier relatives completely short-circuited Shiro's brain.
"Ye should see ye' face", she grinned, cheek puffed out with food. "I can read eeevery thought in ye' head, ya know~"
"…I need to figure out if there's any assets guys have that can counter the effect of women's", he laughed into his hands as he tried to wipe the daydream off his face.
"No, don't do that – the brain-deadness is what makes guys so cute!"
"I don't wanna be cute!"
"Tough luck, 'cause ye are, Fuji~"
Dusk fall lit myriads of lanterns on the city's streets and bridges; lanterns hung with streamers until they looked like gigantic, colourful jellyfish swimming in the breeze. There wouldn't be any stars to watch, neither the Weaving Maid nor the Cowherd constellation. As if to mimic the missing lights, the black river cast the billowing lantern reflections up at the clouds.
They crept down over the stone riverbank, down to the streak of quiet darkness that was barricaded on both sides by tents and stands and the smell of food. …and at the docks, the water clicked its wet tongue and lapped at an armada of small chokkibune that lay waiting to ferry festival visitors out on the river.
Shiro helped her into the boat, the geta being a bit too unfamiliar on her feet to let her jump from the bridge. It wobbled slightly on the water, sending a warning jolt through his gut. It might not be too romantic to get motion sick on a date…
As if that would stop him.
It was a magic night. Shimmering lantern light licked softly over the sides of the boat as it clove the waters, propelled at steady speed by the boatman's ro. The sound of music and voices rolled down the riverbanks with a muffled effect, as if it were but a lively backdrop to their private sphere: a sphere where Kasumi's body heat breathed through his clothes.
This was too good. Fairy tale material. Romance didn't happen like this in real life. Nothing could work out this perfectly in real life.
…and in response to Shiro's lack of faith in the universe, the river of heaven flooded. It began with pinprick ringlets spread on the water; few at first, then more and more until the pelting rain had turned smooth surface into a hissing porcupine hide.
"Seems there's only one magpie to get Orihime to Hikoboshi tonight", Shiro smiled as Kasumi huddled close to him to shelter them both under her impractical umbrella. "Where did you get this thing anyway?"
"Bought it from an umbrella maker I know in town. 'E's brilliant, 'e is: a genius, but business is always bad 'cause he keeps makin' these outrageous designs that barely cover even one person." She cast an eye up at the bird-shape that sprawled above them and dripped a steady stream of water on her yellow yukata sleeve. "As a fellow craftsman I kinda feel I should help out so the kid can eat, at least."
"I think I need thank the guy for making his outrageous designs", he smirked and sneaked his arm around Kasumi: to fit them in better under the umbrella, of course.
"Bet ye're in league with each other", she laughed, sound bouncing off the water like the pelting raindrops. "Maybe that's yer counter-ability? Teamin' up against the enemy - not that women would be yer enemy. The umbrella maker's a ladies' man, just like you – an' his name's Shiro, too!"
"Whoa, you mean I've got a doppelgänger?"
"What's that?"
Ah, that's right. One of those words he'd picked up from Mephisto.
"Means you've got a double, or an identical twin that isn't your biological one", he explained while quietly thanking Emperor Tentei for making it rain. "It's German, I think."
"Well, ye're not doubles, that much I can say. Umbrella-Shiro's got long black hair an' looks kinda like a girl."
"And luckily, you prefer Shiros with pink hair."
"Yep~" Kasumi leaned into his embrace and set his heart flittering madly in his chest. "Which reminds me: I heard ye' horseshit prank went well. So ye're expecting payback from Pheles now, or…?"
Shiro burst out laughing, so loud it echoed off a bridge that hid in the grey veil ahead of them.
"No, he's already paid me back for that. You're not gonna believe me", he chuckled, scratching the back of his head in slight embarrassment. "He made me come along for shopping, to carry his bags."
"Doesn't sound that bad…?"
"No – until he went shopping for underwear." Yep, that was a tad too shameless even for Kasumi, who tried to hide her embarrassment in her hand – and looked absolutely adorable in the process. "You've noticed those tights he wears to his principal's uniform, right? Well, they're not tights. They're stockings. Like, lady underwear stockings." Kasumi doubled over in uncontrolled laughing spasms, and Shiro had to bend with her or get a shower of water inside his collar. "And he made me stand there in front of the personnel and help him decide which colours to choose. I thought I was gonna die of shame right there."
They laughed, as only lobotomised young lovers can do, and the rain persisted; a steady pelt that whipped evening mist out of the water and merged river, banks, and sky into a haze of pearl grey. It cooled the air, the chill eating through the light clothing they both wore, and they huddled closer still. Tiny droplets nested in Kasumi's sun-bleached hair, glistening in the dim light of lanterns floating through from another world. Another world where demons were stretching their claws and rising to claim the night hours.
Tch, it was like Mephisto's stupid fairy tale references. Shiro wasn't Sleeping Beauty, no, he was Cinderella: allowed to go to the ball, but only for a limited time. He receded inwards, disconnected his mind from emotion and sharpened it into an alert, unforgiving ring wall. Put on the mask. Paint on the smile. Act the role of a lifetime and hope Kasumi didn't notice anything off. Maybe he could blame his stiffness on being tired? Maybe he could-
"I really like ya, Shiro", she whispered into his shoulder, through the susurrus rain - through his callousness and through his heart. "I didn't think I'd fall in love like this, but…" Her arm untangled from the wet fabric and slid around his waist. "With you it feels right."
Yes, it felt right; and that feeling flooded him like wildfire. He loved her, loved her so much his heart could burst, and-
"I love you", he breathed, surrendering himself to the sweet intoxication of the feeling. "I really love you."
…and what better way to end a day of celebrating true love, than by escaping the rain in a cinema seat and watch a young woman kick ass? Shiro did admit, he liked the Sister Street Fighter series: he just hadn't expected Kasumi to like them, too. Then again, he could easily picture her replacing Shihomi Etsuko as the main character: just as cool, and just as cute.
Problem cropped up quickly, however, as the universe apparently still hadn't forgiven Shiro's lack of faith. When they got to the cinema, the poster with Sister Street Fighter: Fifth Level Fist was taped over with a handwritten sign that said SOLD OUT.
"Well, guess we'll hav'ta go check what other films they show the next hour."
Sure, but… Come on! What were the odds? Celebrating couples didn't go out to watch action films! How could every single ticke-
Oh, there was one possibility…
Shiro patted Kasumi on the shoulder and signalled for her to give him a moment. He trotted over to the ticket booth, where a bulldog-cheeked man fit narrowly in amongst the shelves of snacks and beverages. Before he addressed the man, Shiro donned the professional look he had perfected for giving first-year students wrong directions.
"Good evening, sir. I have a message to deliver to Mr. Faust", he said in formal tones and hoped his hunch hadn't been wrong. "I'm aware it's past office hours, but my employer insisted that it be delivered urgently." He waved a folded festival programme impatiently, too quickly for the vendor to see what it really was. "Businessmen are always keen on doing business, you know?"
Bingo. The bulldog-cheeked man hobbled out of his booth through a side door, and motioned for them to follow him. Theatre number two appeared to be their destination, and when the deep brown door opened they were struck by the sickeningly sweet smell of sugar- and caramel-coated popcorns. The man bowed with some effort and moved to let them pass: good thing, for if he had peered into the theatre he would've caught Mr. Faust sprawled comfortably in a pink armchair that hovered above the empty seats.
"Fancy meeting you here", Shiro smirked as he trotted in, gratefully relaxing all his inner defences. "I thought you were gonna be busy all day?"
"I have been busy all day", Mephisto confirmed in their two-man lingo. "I'm here to take a well-earned break from my hard work. Why, and a pleasure to meet you, Miss Honda."
"Pleasure ta meet ya too, Sir Pheles", she replied and mirrored his nod. From the way she seemed to bite the insides of her cheeks, Shiro guessed she was thinking about stockings.
He wasn't wearing any now, though. It was a holiday, after all, and he'd slipped himself into an extremely glossy blue yukata patterned with monkshood.
"Mind if we join you?" Shiro held out the yen notes he'd intended to pay their tickets with.
"Not at all~" Mephisto tucked the money into his obi with a pleasant smile, and tossed a lollipop wrapper to his wastebasket familiar. "And how has your day been? Busy…?"
"Yeah, we've been at it all day", Kasumi replied, and forced Shiro to keep his facial muscles in check. Oh god, she had no idea... "It's been great, though. An' it seems I'll be stealin' yer janitor away next holiday. Say, a little bird tells me ya spar tagether?" She leaned onto the backrests of the sixth row and crossed her legs. "Think ya could do somethin' bout 'is stamina before I take 'im out on the roads? As it is, 'e's pretty awful."
Awful? Well yeah, if you compared him to a pilgrim that walked Honshu from tip to tip every year.
"Yes, his stamina is quite lacking." Kasumi didn't know Mephisto well enough to detect the lewd undertone in that response, but Shiro did. "He's a stubborn young man, though. I've tried to my wit's extent to persuade him that we should work on his stamina – brought in help from experts, even – but he simply won't submit."
Shiro tensed where he stood. No, no, no - Mephisto was not bringing up the succubus-incident on an occasion like this!
"Perhaps you would have better success convincing him?" said Mephisto as an Idea – one that made Shiro's stomach drop down into his pelvis – flashed across the green eyes. "After all, nothing beats a sweetheart's tongue. I could show you a few exercises that I think he would agree to, and which would help improve his stamina."
It took all Shiro's self control to keep his face in check. What the hell was that old goat implying…?!
"Sounds good ta me." Yeah, if you didn't have a clue what stamina the asshole of a demon was talking about! "S'it advanced stuff, or something ye could show me tenight?"
No no no hell no there had to be some way of-
"The difficulty can be adjusted depending on how well he takes to it, but I could definitely go through the basics with you tonight. After the film, we could- Ow! Ill-bred, idiotic…!"
The panda, which was being generously fed on lollipop wraps, had leapt to catch the expertly aimed paper ball Shiro had shot at Mephisto's head.
"I just made up my mind: I wanna train to improve my stamina." He glared daggers at the criminally smug smirk that crept up on the demon's face. "And since Kasumi won't be here at all times, I'd prefer to train with you."
"Really~?"
There were many things Shiro would have liked to do there and then. Sadly, there was only one option that wouldn't look strange to Kasumi.
"Yes, really."
Shiro cooled his temper during the film, which was quite enjoyable. Afterwards, they parted ways for the night; Kasumi heading to her hostel and Shiro and Mephisto heading to the Academy. Mephisto even gave him a ride back in his limousine - and once on campus ground, the demon fished out an envelope from within his yukata sleeve.
"I didn't want to mention it in front of your sweetheart, but~ the invitation does permit a Mrs. Faust, if she wants to come."
The whole situation was suspicious, on so many levels: the furtive smirk, the strange hint, the expensive envelope paper…
"If 'Mrs. Faust' will have to wear a dress, she just might yank off her husband's beard", Shiro informed curtly as he flipped out his knife to open the mysterious letter.
"I think you'd look better in formal suit; especially with that charming hair colour."
"You know, my knife just might slip if you-" The creamy paper unfolded in his hands, as expensive and important-looking as the envelope it had travellled in. "No way!" No way, no way, no way – Shiro had to read the letter several times… But the stupid grin never left his lips. "Hell yeah, Mrs. Faust is coming along!"
A/N:
Tanabata is a festival of the weaving spirit, beautiful fabric, and true love, commemorating an originally Chinese legend called The Cowherd and the Weaving Maid. Those are actually two stars, Altair and Vega, and the river of heaven is the Milky Way. Tanabata is celebrated on the 7th day of the 7th month, when the moon forms a crescent shape and thus can act as a boat to let them meet, but it seems like dates vary: some regions begin celebrations as early as 1st of July, and some don't celebrate until 8th of August. So, eh, no exact date for the True Cross region: beginning of July-ish.
(…yep, Mephisto asked Shiro out to Mepphy Land on a festival celebrating true love. x) )
Chokkibune is a kind of water taxi that was used in the Edo period.
Ro is a special type of single oar that appears to be very difficult to handle properly: but if you can, a single oarsman can allegedly manoeuvre a boat weighing well over a tonne with ease.
Shiro the umbrella maker… If you haven't read a manga titled Adekan, I strongly recommend you do. I'd say it's a sort of heir to Pet Shop of Horrors in the way it's told: short stories that combine into a greater one, featuring a beautiful mix of humour, horror, and message (and so much hinted BL that your eyes will catch fire). Not to mention the artwork is absolutely stunning. 0_0