A/N: Been a while, eh? =) Y'all go give Fox Populi a pat in the back, otherwise it would've been even longer.
Refs to ch: 16
I do not own or profit from any of what Kazue Kato has created.
Eight years ago, Middle First Class exorcist Yana Megumi had been sent to the forested areas near Izumo on a simple mission: locate and exorcise the demon that had been stealing food – and various assorted articles like lighters, shoes and sunglasses – from visitors to the picnic sites some quarter of an hour drive into the wilderness. Izumo lay at the coast in Shimane prefecture, flanked north and south by low mountain ranges. Japan's cradle, you'd hear some call it in a moment of poetic inspiration. Archaeologists held it to be the place where humans had first arrived to the islands by boat. The area was rich in old tools, burial mounds, shrines – and shinto gods. If Izumo was the cradle where the Japanese people had risen, it was a cradle they had shared with demons.
A week after her arrival, Megumi made first contact with the demon – or half-demon, as it turned out. A short glimpse of bright red peering through the green. The half-breed had been cautious. Watched. Made some sort of hand motions and noises that indicated the stranger ought to leave. There had been no words, but neither any attempt at attacking.
Megumi's stay had lengthened. Exorcising the half-breed would have been easy enough, but something even half human can pull the heartstrings of compassion. And the half-breed had been very small, and not hostile… and after a few tentative encounters, Midori had been adopted.
Three years ago, Middle Second Class exorcist Yana Megumi had fallen in the line of duty, speared through the chest by a harpy on Hokkaido.
Nobody had known how old Midori was when Megumi found her; between eight and twelve was the closest estimation. Nobody had known when she was born, or by whom. Or if she had a name. The harvest gods of Inari were known to have married into a human family in Izumo long ago, but they knew nothing of this recent cub that clearly had more demon blood than the miko lineage of their shrine.
"Midori" was the first colour she had learnt. It had taken long and exhausting attempts by Megumi to explain that she didn't mean the grass, the leaves or her thermos when she pointed, but the colour they all had; and when this finally clicked, Midori's puzzled scowl had given way to a peal of hearty laughter.
Two years ago, roughly, Sakura Midori had enrolled at True Cross Academy to follow her adoptive mother's footsteps.
Midori hadn't wanted a randomly picked birthday that wasn't her real birthday. The day she had met Megumi would have been the natural choice, but it was difficult to determine since they had glimpsed each other long before they made contact. Eventually, they had decided that every year, the day after the first cherry blossoms burst their buds would be Midori's Day. Once they had settled on that, they chose Sakura as her surname.
March was in his dying days, and the shade beneath the trees was still chilly. Real spring would be due soon. Real spring, false spring – maybe there was a difference, maybe there wasn't. One could imagine there was a tension. An excitement. Everything was getting tuned, like an orchestra preparing to play. Small creeks filled to their brims with melt water. Buds lined up on twigs, waiting for their cue to burst out green. Flowers peeked tentatively over blades of grass, not wanting to miss the signal. Everything was on edge, ready for the serenade of spring.
Shiro trekked up the forested slope in the midst of it, rustling yesteryear's dry carpet of leaves. Out of beat. Out of tune. A dissonant monotony churning downward spirals while everything else did its best to ignore it. That's the really bizarre part. When everyone pretends like nothing's out of the usual and nobody believes it.
Kasumi's scarf was enough when jackets had become too heavy in the sun. Down in the undergrowth it was different. Moist earth and cold melt water scented the air. Sharpened reflexes were triggered now and then by patches of light that swayed on the non-existent path, as wind rustled the unborn foliage above. More than once there was actual movement, when birds kicked among the brown leaves for worms and material for nest building. They froze when he passed by, eyeing the disturbance warily.
It was a beautiful spring day by all standards - the kind of day that might lead people to think of it as a charm that would keep all events transpiring that day equally pleasant.
Shiro had no such illusions. There was a tension in his step that he couldn't shake, not unlike the feeling of being summoned to the Order's Court for a hearing. There would be questions posed and judgement passed. Thoughts churned out unpleasant scenarios as he made his way up the hill. There were so many ways this could go wrong, and only one way for it to go right. Statistics is a bitch that way.
Still, he would try.
You could tell when Midori was behind the decorations. She had picked out a small clearing next to a ravine, where a thin layer of soil and lichens covered an otherwise bare outcropping of rock, and turned it into a theme park of assorted recyclables. The air was crisscrossed with everything from fishing line to hemp ropes and hung with myriads of glittering things: candle holders made of decimated soda cans, wind spinners put together from feathers, tin foil and tea spoons, and discarded plastic cups split up into wriggling jellyfish. A couple of the latter seemed to be involved in an airborne jousting fight – each had a wooden skewer stuck through its "body", and when the breeze jostled them they exchanged blows and crossed blades.
"Welcome Shiro-kun!" exclaimed a huge… bouncing… cigarette…?
Midori was wrapped head to toe in a white tube that forced her to alternately waddle and skip to get anywhere. A crippled bike helmet was squeezed down over her bright red hair, with holes made for her ears, and both ears and helmet were sprayed over with gold paint. She stopped once she'd waddle-hopped over to him, and cracked a huge, beaming grin over the rim of the tube.
"I'm a scroll!" she announced. Judging by the sound of it, that was a life-long dream come true.
Masquerade wasn't a traditional part of Midori's Day, and to amend that deficiency Midori had decided that this year would be the start of the tradition. While Shiro had expected her costume to be something outrageous, this did surpass all his guesses.
"That's brilliant", he smiled and eyed the creation up and down. "What's that made of?"
"Is old helmet, bed sheet, carbon paper, tape-"
"Cardboard paper", Sen helped. Her hair added at least half a meter to her height with the way it was combed up to form a thin, pointy bulb on her head. "And a roll-down curtain."
"And you're the brush, right?"
"Yes."
"I love the scarf, Shiro-kun! Is it present?" Midori eyed Kasumi's chimera scarf the same way she eyed a particularly tasty dessert.
"No, I'll be keeping that. You in charge of the presents?" he asked Sen, who was, after all, the one with arms. "Here. I trust Midori-chan will figure out stuff to do with it."
To his surprise, Sen began unwrapping the crudely taped present immediately, with Midori bouncing up and down with excitement. What came out of the wrapping was a two-part present: a steel cutter, and a roll of wire.
"Oooh is perfect!" she chirped through that big, brilliant smile of hers. "Thank you! Now write something, Shiro-kun!"
The scroll bounced with renewed energy, and the human brush grabbed hold of something behind Midori's back. She pulled, and the white roll-down curtain complied. There were congratulations and doodles of animals scribbled on it, and he could clearly recognise Ryuuji's rounded handwriting and Sen's thin, precise strokes. She pulled it out further until clean space came into view.
"All guests must write on the magic scroll before they can be admitted", she proclaimed sagely, and plucked a brush and an inkwell from her belt with her free hand.
"You guys really go all out with this", he chuckled and took the brush and the inkwell, but not without a look of wonder. "How many cans of hair spray did that take?"
"One, and some semen."
…There was a moment of silence… in which Shiro tried very hard to figure out what she had really said… while shit-eating grins grew on Sen's and Midori's faces.
"I heard that wrong, right?" He must have. It had to be the name of some hair gel he'd never heard of.
"Face says you didn't", Midori sniggered happily. "Is perfect for hair – strong like glue, but easy to wash out."
"O…kay… just… I don't need to know how you know this, or where you got that: okay?"
"Okay, Shiro-kun", the half-demon grinned mischievously. "Now draw something!" Because his already written Congratulations! was apparently not satisfactory.
Ryuuji had drawn a rather nice dragon next to his signature. Sen had painted something round and messy that was probably her goblin. Himself he didn't have much confidence in his artistic skill.
"Where is your costume, Shiro-kun?" Sen wondered in the midst of his pondering.
"Here." He tapped the butt of the brush at his face, with the lick of paint on the tip of his nose and four whiskers on each cheek. "And some here." He snuck the shaft of the brush in under his messy hair and lifted it to reveal a thin black line over the top of his ear.
"Cat?" Midori suggested.
"Guess again."
He drew a couple strokes, scrunched his nose in dismay, but once started he felt compelled to finish.
"Fox?" Sen tried.
"Nope. Can you tell what this is?" Shiro turned sideways and rocked his hips so the tail tucked inside his belt wagged a little. It was nothing elaborate: he'd procured a retired garden hose from the janitors he'd worked with last summer, cut it up and painted it white, and glued a black swab of synthetic duster to the tip.
"You're Kimba the White Lion", Sen concluded with a lazy smile.
"Very imaginative, I know. Alright, I think I need to explain this one." He corked the inkwell again, and handed the equipment back to Sen before introducing his masterpiece: "It's a lion that's been knocked flat on the ground by the fox that's now standing on him. Inspired by real events."
"Magic scroll is pleased", Midori beamed. "You may now enter."
There was an immediate change when he followed them into the rocky clearing itself. The susurrous whispers of demons that followed him day and night died away, and left everything strangely empty and quiet.
"You've put some pretty heavy wards on this place."
"Keeps demons out up to high level, m-hm~" Midori confirmed in a singing cadence that matched her bouncing walk. "Sen made much work for you."
"Thanks, guys", he smiled, but didn't relax his defenses. Satan was a level of his own. "It means a lot that you're doing this, especially sacrificing your birthday to do it."
"My Day", Midori corrected in good humour. "We're friends, Shiro-kun. Only you are stupid to think we don't help."
"The problem is you help too much." Shiro pulled his thoughts off the realistic track, onto that of the optimist. Had to try. Had to hope. "Yeah, I'm the stupid one. I know."
There were no cushions to sit on in the clearing, but a huge spread of moss that had been reaped and furnished into a fuzzy picnic blanket. It smelled rich and earthy, and made the person sitting on it look completely out of place. The robes were a colour splatter that almost matched Shiro's scarf, the black hair was fastened in elaborate styles, and the face was completely covered with a mask cast to resemble the face of a beautiful woman. Seeing as there was only one more greeting on the curtain scroll beside Sen's and his own, it could only be Ryuuji, but still…
"Hi. …it's Ryuuji-san, right? That's some costume, man." Shiro took a seat in the moss, and found it pleasantly warm from the sun. "I'm guessing you're a noh theatre character, but beyond that I'm lost."
"I'm Lady Tamamo, the beautiful but evil fox spirit from Sesshoseki", came Ryuuji's voice, sounding like he was speaking in a bucket. He tried a courtly nod, but yelped when the wig slipped from the movement. "Ish, this thing just doesn't stay in place. A-anyway, I'm Tamamo, and this was the Killing Stone", he held up a regular grey rock, about the size of his palm, that had miniature shide wards tied around it with string, "until Sen-chan painted a cat face on it. Now it's the Kitty Stone." Ryuuji turned the stone around and revealed a very pleased cat face with the shide string as bandana. "And you're…? I can't see much through this mask, sorry."
"Kimba the White Lion, from the old TV series." He took a moment to get his brain back in gear for proper conversation; a mechanism of rusty, grating cogs that moved painfully slowly. "I don't think I know the story of Sesshoseki."
"Really? But we wrote about it on a test in exorcism history just this autumn?"
Shiro gave him a blank stare. He was quite sure they had never had an exam on theatre in exorcism history.
"You know, Miura and Kazusa, the founders of the Yaonaru clan?" Ryuuji tried, hoping Shiro would catch on. "The ones that defeated the nine-tailed fox so her body turned into the Killing Stone?"
"Oh, that story. I didn't know the nine-tails' name was Tamamo."
"It isn't, it's- I mean, you know what demons are like – the powerful ones, at least. Different names in different cultures, and you don't always know what their real name is. Tamamo is the most recent one. We used to call her Mizukume and Wakamo when she first came to Japan, and that was after she had left China: there she was Bao Si, and before that she was Su Daji."
"You nailed that history test, didn't you?" Shiro added a smile to the question. He recognised the tilt of the mask as Ryuuji lowering his gaze, the way he did when he didn't know what to do with the praise he received. "Anyway – the Kitty Stone looks a little like Midori-chan when she's eating something tasty, doesn't it?"
Ryuuji held the stone up and angled his head to peer out through the mask's eye slits.
"That's quite disturbing now that you say it. She's from the Shimane region, too. The real Killing Stone is up there. Maybe she's related to the nine-tails?"
"I remember from the test that the demon could take the form of a young orphan girl", said Shiro with his gravest expression.
"As Mizukume, she appeared as a little girl that was adopted", Ryuuji nodded in solemn understanding. "I think we're onto something."
"Definitely", he agreed, feeling… at least a little more in tune with the world.
"Yeah – oh, did I tell you that I went to Shimane last summer, with the music troupe? It was so cool! They're really big on folk traditions there during the harvest festivals – we had gigs every day for a week round and about the shrine area and you wouldn't believe all the food they serve", Ryuuji bubbled happily. "I had hoped to see the ritual for the Killing Stone – it has its own special traditions to follow – but those aren't for the public. I tried saying that I was an exorcist student at True Cross, but they wouldn't let me watch unless I was a licensed exorcist. There's this dance called the Kamioroshi that only the shrine maiden can perform in order to appease the fox spirit, and it's supposed to be amazing."
"Sure sounds cool", Shiro fell in. "Should we dance to appease the spirit of the Kitty Stone?"
Ryuuji chuckled into the mask and shook his head, holding the wig in place as he did.
"I can't dance."
"That makes two of us. Seems we can't appease the Kitty Stone. What happens then?"
"Don't know. …Midori-chan might eat us?" he suggested after a moment's thought.
"Is okay: if you help me seat, I won't", Midori assured with a big grin. She was very focused on not stumbling in the moss blanket as she joined them with Sen in tow.
"Can you even sit in that?"
"I think you have to lie down. Can Kimba and Tamamo help?" asked Sen, who now had both hands occupied with a tray of simple street food snacks and single use chopsticks.
There was no practical need for two abnormally strong guys to both lower a slender girl like Midori, but for the well being of her cardboard wrapping a couple of extra hands was welcome. Sen placed the tray on the moss in the middle of their little gathering and folded her legs in under herself to sit.
"We have half an hour before Shizuku-kun comes", she announced dreamily. "Is there anything we would like to discuss before that? Please help yourselves." She gestured at the tray.
They all expressed their gratitude for the food and dug in. Ryuuji wrestled himself out of his mask, while Sen's feeding of Midori was entertainment in its own right, as her definition of "bite-sized" matched a sparrow's while Midori's definition was "as long as it fits into my mouth". Ryuuji was the first to speak when all had settled:
"So, um, from what I understand, the thing Shizu-san is angry over is that you never told us about the vessel thing, and that you knew about it and still put his sister in danger. You had your reasons for the first thing, and I can't say I blame you. But, if I'm- if I'm honest with you, Shiro-san, I…" Ryuuji bit his lip. As much as he had grown in confidence the past year, handling conflicts still made his tongue stumble. "I don't understand why you did that. I mean you really love Kasumi-senpai, right?"
Shiro plucked one of the fish-shaped taiyaki, just to have something to occupy himself with while he replied. There wasn't much to understand about it. Only that he was an irresponsible dipshit.
"Yeah. I love her." He kept his eyes on the tray of food, since that wouldn't look back at him. "It sounds bad, but I think that's the reason I did it, if I can say there was a reason at all. I'm not the cleverest guy to begin with, and falling in love makes people stupid. I knew it could end bad." Badly, he corrected himself mentally, and felt his intestines knot at the prospect of meeting the one who used to correct him when he said that. "Even then I couldn't give her up. I was selfish. And stupid." He heaved a sigh, still without having tasted the taiyaki. "And Shizuku-san has every right to hate me."
"Kasumi-san puts no blame on you, I know", Sen's sing-song voice spoke up. "Shizuku-kun believes she should. I think he feels you betrayed his trust; he welcomed you as family when you and Kasumi-san confessed to each other."
"No shit I betrayed his trust", he murmured heavily. "We've been through this. Look, I'm clear on what happened – I thought this would be more of a Q&A thing for anyone who still wonders 'bout my version of the story. Or for talking about what others have been up to. I haven't kept tabs lately with all homework and that."
That sounded snappier than he had intended, but before he could apologise for it, Midori had leapt at the new topic:
"You work more than we together." She struggled against the helmet to angle her head so she could look at him. "How come, Shiro-kun? You have no more regular school."
Right. That. Well, he had to break it to them sooner or later.
"No, I don't", he agreed, buying himself time to lay his words right. For once. "As a matter of fact, I… When this all happened last year, and I took off to Faust Mansion, I was panicking." To say the least. "I didn't think I'd ever be able to talk to you guys again – I thought everyone would react like Shizuku-san. I felt it would be better for everyone if I left for a while, so I asked Mephisto if any Order branch abroad took exchange students." Shiro still hadn't touched his taiyaki, and he was starting to feel dumb sitting with it in his chopsticks, so he took a bite before he continued: "The extra classes I've been taking are in language and exorcism. I go to Rome in Italy this summer, once I get my exorcist license." One year ahead of everyone else.
That was much new information in short time – that much he could tell from the faces turned towards his own.
"To Rome?" Midori looked like he had said he would take a vacation in Gehenna. "Is bad place, Shiro-kun! Bad place with eyes who hiss and words who kill! You hurt here, but will hurt much more there!"
"Do you know something about Rome that I don't?" Shiro had expected her to be angry because he was leaving in such a way; not be frightened because of where he was going.
"Is bad place", she repeated, nailing him in to the ground with grim, worried eyes. "Like a garden. Big, beautiful garden. Some trees and flowers are let to grow, and other things are pulled out and killed because gardeners don't want them."
"It's true", Sen confirmed. There was a hardness to her eyes that made you feel scrapes and bruises form on your skin.
"But… A-are you sure that's not just about half-demons?" Ryuuji asked hesitantly, looking from one grim girl to another. "I mean, my brother told me something like that. Like, in Rome they're very old-fashioned-"
"They're blind", Midori said darkly. "Evil is of heart, not of blood or breed – but they see nothing." She turned her gaze to Shiro, and it was all wasp poison and no sunshine. "Midori is evil to them. How do you think vessel of Gehenna's God will be to them?"
"I'll find out", he replied, although none believed the artificial lightness of the statement. "In the meantime, I was hoping to sort things out here before I go. Will you help me do that?"
It had started out so well, with light talk and joking. Now it felt more like negotiation than conversation. More and more instruments coming out of tune with spring.
"You are bad at telling people things, Shiro-kun", Sen observed.
"I know." Many things couldn't be told, either. "I'm sorry I am like that. Runs in the family, you could say. That's no real excuse", he added, and meant it, "and I know I have to get better at… relying not just on myself. But I think I need a change of air, or a fresh start or what to call it. I keep getting anonymous 'fan mail' to my compartment, and the general opinion in them is that I should go somewhere else." Shiro absentmindedly picked strands of moss out of their picnic blanket. True, he still got notes and letters, but his "fame" had rarely been of the positive kind anyway. As excuses to fodder his story? Excellent material. "I'm thinking that maybe things have settled down by the time I come back. I won't be away more than a year or so."
A year and a half: that was Samael's estimation for how long it would take to complete their contract. A lot could happen in that time. Depending on how life turned out in Italy, Shiro considered staying permanently.
"I see how you think", Sen said between bites of a still steaming nikuman. "It's a good thought. Maybe Italy is not the best choice, but the idea is good. I respect your decision."
There seemed to be a consensus on that. It was a relief, in one way. In another way, he was still not telling the whole truth. Still not relying on anyone but himself.
"We've all got quirks and flaws – and that's okay, you know", Ryuuji said. "If we just accept that, we can live with it. And with each other, hopefully. I'm… I'm kind of glad that you said this. About going away to Rome." He looked down on his hands, down on slender fingers that fidgeted with the Kitty Stone. "I… I've been thinking of quitting cram school."
"You quit?" Midori turned to him in surprise.
"I think so." Ryuuji's eyes were still on the stone, gazing at a weight he didn't know whether to drop or carry. "It's not for me. I don't do well on the tests-"
"You did well on the history test", Shiro reminded.
"Because there was a play about it", he emphasised, as though trying to convince himself to listen to his own advice. "I don't… A job where people are in danger and depend on me… I'm not cut out for that. I'm not smart enough to be a Doctor in the first place and- and I can't take the pressure." There was sadness in his voice. Muted tones. Apology. "I'm… meant to play music. Not fight demons."
"If you feel like this, we support your precision."
"Decision", Sen corrected airily. "We will still see each other in regular classes, won't we?"
"Yeah…"
"Nobody's disappointed in you", Shiro spoke up, knowing what it was that still made him hesitate. "You gotta decide your own path in life. If you wanna go for music, go for music. We'll support you."
"Thanks, guys", he said with one of those guileless smiles that made you sympathise with him instantly. One of those smiles that reminded Shiro that half-demons were very different from pure-blood demons, even if they had many abilities in common. "I haven't told my brother yet, just so… you know… Don't mention it to him yet, okay?"
"We won't", Midori promised with a warm smile. Then she wiggled impatiently and tried to turn her head so she could see Sen. "More takoyaki for Midori~?"
They all used the brief pause to grab something more to eat. Except Shiro. Ryuuji had eaten the taiyaki, and Midori was quickly finishing off the takoyaki.
"Why not some nikuman, Shiro-kun?" Sen asked when she noticed he wasn't eating.
"Is it with pork?"
"Yes."
"Sorry, can't eat meat. It's Lent." They knew he was converting to Catholicism, since he had mentioned it to Sen at one point. That didn't mean they knew anything of Catholic practices. "It means you give up certain luxuries for forty four days. Like eating meat."
"Why not give up smoke?" Midori immediately suggested with a hopeful look on her face.
"Lent is about piety and cleansing oneself." He scratched his nose and pretended not to notice her expectant eyes. "Abstaining from smoking won't make me more pious, just more snappy."
"But is no sacrifice if it's not hard!" she protested with pursed lips and scrunched-up eyebrows. "Spirit of Kitty Stone is not pleased. I will-" Midori's big ears twitched. "Steps a-coming this way. Get me up! Get me up! Shizuku-kun is here!"
Half an hour had not passed in Shiro's mind. According to his wristwatch, it had – but they had barely discussed anything!
"Improvise, then."
Shiro had had an illustrated children's version of Journey to the West when he was little. First the grow-and-shrink staff surfaced over the summit, then Shizuku's spiky hair and the magical circlet around it, and then his face, with beard and sideburns grown out to resemble those of Sun Wukong, the Monkey King. When he counted four guests in the clearing, his pace slowed momentarily.
"Welcome Shizuku-kun!" Midori bounced ahead of the rest of them to give him the same cheerful welcome they had all gotten.
"'Ello there, Midori-chan. An' happy day to ya."
Sen flowed forward with her small, small steps to accept the gift and roll out the scroll.
Shiro had no problem keeping himself calm and level-headed. But he had no idea what would happen when the curtain rolled back in and he would be face-to-face with Shizuku again. First time in eight months.
Shizuku didn't know what would happen either: Shiro knew that the moment the curtain slapped back inside the rig on Midori's back. The pilgrim wasn't happy to see him, that much was sure. Dissonance echoed in the silence, waiting for a string to snap in either of the two. However, circumstances set different rules for their disagreement. It was Midori's Day, and to ruin it with hostile arguments was against those rules.
"That's one great Tamamo outfit, Ryuuji-san", he began in what was almost a casual manner. "What's yer costume?" His eyes shifted to Shiro without really looking at him.
"Kimba the White Lion. It's a TV series from when I was little", he added, remembering that Shizuku hadn't had access to a TV when he grew up. "I would've grown a beard mane, but unlike you I don't have the genetics. You really look like Sun Wukong."
"Come and sit everyone!" Midori urged and bounced towards the moss blanket. "We still have cake to eat!"
Sen padded away to fetch the cake, and Shiro and Ryuuji once more lowered Midori down on her back. Meanwhile, Shizuku struck up a conversation with Ryuuji about theatre and showed no intention of speaking more with Shiro.
"Shizuku-san, we should at least try to talk."
"I am talkin' – in the middle of a conversation, in fact", he replied without even looking at him.
"Actually, Shizu-san…" Ryuuji interrupted. "It would be better if you talked to him. Everyone thinks so." He sought Shiro and Midori for support before his eyes flicked back to Shizuku. "You used to be best friends. Everyone's sad to see you like this. Don't you think you can just… talk?"
"Does 'e have anything ta say, then?"
The look he gave Shiro when he finally looked at him didn't expect anything worth listening to. You listen to friends. Not traitors.
"Nothing that's gonna change what happened", he admitted. "I want you to know that I'm sorry for being an idiot and for-"
"She made ya that scarf: didn't she?" Curt. Clipped. Shizuku wasn't interested in anything Shiro could say.
"Yes, she did." He had expected Shizuku to notice, after all. "Kasumi-chan is a better woman than I'll ever deserve. I can't see why she'd want me, or forgive me for what happened. But she does." Shiro wet his lips, tried to relax his senses and reach for the right words; tried to listen in to that intuition that had come with the imprint. "And-"
"She shouldn't."
"No, I agree she shouldn't, but-"
"An' you shouldn't put 'er in danger again", he bit off coldly.
Wonderful. No intention whatsoever to have a dialogue: none.
"Alright, you don't wanna listen to me", Shiro concluded, keeping his voice carefully neutral. "Then I'll listen to you instead."
No use in pushing if the opponent's pushing, too: better yield and let him steer. With any luck, it'll confuse them enough to break the stalemate.
"…I don't want ya anywhere near my sister", Shizuku stated after the initial puzzlement. "I don't care if she's the one that seeks ya out. She's too smitten with ya te have any sense o' self-preservation left, so it's yer call ta stay the fuck away from her."
"I will. I've learnt my lesson, but back then I was the same", he jumped at the opportunity. "Too much in love to take the risks seriously: that's why things-"
"There was no risk fe' you", Shizuku snapped, shoulders tense and neck strained, like a dog about to lunge. "Ya didn't love 'er enough ta think about her. Ya saw 'er, didn't ya? Must have. Ya see how thin she is? Ya see what yer 'love' did ta her?"
"I saw her. If it makes you any happier, I won't be seeing her again. I already told the others: I'll be going to Rome as an exchange student, starting this summer. It's-"
"First ya cripple her, then ya leave her – what kind'o fucking demon are ya?!" the pilgrim snarled between his teeth, hair looking more and more like raised hackles on his head.
"You don't want me near her, you don't want me to leave her: why don't you just say what you want from me, Shizuku?"
Frustration. Like steam in a teapot. Shizuku wasn't making sense – not to himself, either.
"Midori doesn't understand either, Shizuku-kun", said the scroll down in the moss. "If not leave and not stay, what-"
"I wanna know what the fuck this is about!" he blurt out just as Sen returned with the cake. "I wanna know what the fuck all of this is about!" He gestured wide with both arms. "Satan's vessel, super strength, barriers failing – an' you!" he snarled. "Ye just stand there in the middle o' all this an' say nothin'! What the fuck are ya? What does my sister have ta do with all this? Why does she like ya when ye're not even human?!"
"I'm human; you know that."
"Nothing says a human can't love a demon", Sen objected sharply.
But Shizuku wasn't in the mood to listen.
"Why don'tcha start telling the truth, hah?!" he spat. One palm in the moss. Ready to spring up and take physical action when his temper reached boiling point. "Ye're not normal, ya never were, an' ya knew that right from the fuckin' start! Pheles handpicked ya fer cram school years later than normal an' ya just happen ta be the vessel o' Satan?! 'E gives ya private lessons an' bails yer ass out when the Order should'a had ya locked up, an' I'm sapposed ta think this is all coincidence, hah?! While ye're usin' us as fuckin' cannon fodder fer-"
"Pheles chose you?" Midori asked in dead tones.
"You've been talking with Kita?" Kita knew about his late enrolment, but that Shizuku would even consider being in the same room with that guy… "You expect him to tell you anything but conspira-"
"I talked ta Saburota, an' conspiracy 's exactly what I think this is!" He slammed his fist down on his thigh. "Ye're Pheles' half-human attack dog an' we're the bloody guinea pigs 'e's training ya on!"
"Shiro-kun, what is he talking about?"
"Half-? Do you hear yourself, Shizuku?" he snapped, muscles tensing to meet the lunge when it came. It would come. There was no way this wouldn't get physical. "You seriously think I mean to hurt people? You're completely-"
"Explain the barrier failure then!" he challenged, eyes black and teeth bared. "You an' Pheles rush down ta the Keep an' Saburota's cousin turns up dead from a sword wound! An' you had a sword!"
"He was dead when I got there!" Shiro retorted. "You can think whatever the fuck you want of me, but killing somebody is a line I'll never cross!"
"Really?! Ya could risk my sister's life fe' yer own goddamn entertainment – makes one wonder where that line goes!"
"Know what other guy down there had a sword?!" Katsuda Agari. But she had officially not been in Deep Keep. "Inoue Katsu, the other guard!" The other assassin Knight. "The guy that got killed by demons before we could capture him and question him!"
"An' wasn't that convenient fo' ya! Dead men tell no tales do they?!"
"Inoue-san didn't have a sword", Ryuuji spoke, confused and afraid and with eyes that were too big and too honest to look at. "He was my brother's friend. He- he used a khakkhara."
"Normally", Shiro lied without missing a beat. "That day-" He ducked instinctively when Shizuku's staff swooped at his head. "So much for that."
But the fight never broke out. Midori shredded herself out of the cardboard paper in seconds, and Sen's goblin appeared with a muffled bang. Both Shiro and Shizuku were restrained and dragged away from each other.
"Ye're lying! You an' Pheles, lying like fuckin' pookas!"
"You are noisy", Sen observed as she padded into the stretch between them. "Shizuku-kun has good questions", she said, eyes ghosting over the panting pilgrim in the goblin's claws. "Do you have good answers?"
'Good' would be stretching it. 'Decent' maybe.
"I'm human. I'm not conspiring with Mephisto. I didn't kill Saburota's cousin. I wanted to save Inoue-san, but I couldn't. What happened in Deep Keep is classified, so I can't tell you details, no matter how much I'd like to. I didn't mean to hurt your sister, and I'm really sorry I did", he rattled off in short but composed sentences. "I will transfer part of my monthly salary to her at your mom's handicraft centre, to cover the income she's losing. If there's anything else I can do, please tell me so."
Mistake. Wrong turn, wrong line crossed. A noxious mix of anger, contempt and insult contorted the pilgrim's features: crippled or able-bodied, the Hondas were craftsmen. They were not beggars.
"Keep yer money", Shizuku hissed. "An' stay in Rome."
The birdsong jarred the silence and grated in the ears. There shouldn't be birdsong. There shouldn't be anything. The argument was dead, the silence final, the serenade quiet.
"Shiro-kun, did Sir Pheles want you in cram school?"
Only Sen could speak in a silence like that. He had never been able to define what set her apart or what made her eerie, but maybe that was it. She was like the silent pause in an argument. The eye of calm in the storm, the split second of numbness between blade biting flesh and pain hitting the nervous system.
"He thought I had potential", Shiro replied, straining to recall what story he had made up when he enrolled. "He saw me chase off some low-level thing and told me about cram school. I said I'd give it a go, so he arranged a late entry. That's it."
His arms were starting to feel numb. Everything was starting to feel numb, and he just wanted to get away from it. Get away, and all would be fine.
Flight instinct is incredibly simple-minded.
"Do you think he knew you were compatible with Satan when he asked you to join?" Sen asked.
Shiro clenched his teeth around the bitter smile that threatened to twitch in his lips.
"I don't know. Maybe."
Birdsong crept down his spine again, cheerful and heartless. With some hesitation, Midori released his arms; at a nod from Sen, the goblin released Shizuku's. After that, nothing happened. Nothing said. Nothing done. The strawberry cake sat forgotten in the moss, candles still lit and wax dripping on the pastry. Shreds of Midori's costume had landed in it and splattered whipped cream and berries out on the tray.
A weight more discordant than the birdsong settled in the pit of his stomach.
"I'm sorry I ruined you Day", Shiro murmured softly, turning to glance at Midori. She shook her head, shook it free of upbeat hopes and levelled her gaze somberly at reality.
"Is we who are sorry for you."
He didn't ask what she meant. It didn't matter. They were out of his reach, far away in a world on the other side of lies and conspiracies. Even if he could, even if he had that choice, he wouldn't pull them into the world he lived in. It had already tainted their thoughts, he could tell from the way they looked at him. Tainted them with questions that shouldn't be asked.
"I should be going", he said, speaking to himself more than to his classmates. He swept an eye over them all: Ryuuji, fidgeting with his robe hem and not knowing how to handle a situation like this; Midori, mourning without tears; Sen, unreadable and unapproachable as a temple statue; Shizuku… "Thank you for inviting me. Maybe we can speak some other time."
That feeling again. Light-headed, as if he were floating a few centimetres above his body when it walked. Suspended, drifting, out of tune; waiting to crash down hard, as he had after signing Samael's contract.
Couldn't have that kind of slip-up. Retain control at all costs.
Shiro whipped a cigarette out of the packet. Nicotine seemed like a good start. Focus, channel: ease the pressure. Breathe. Focus. Breathe…
Hi again.
I screwed up. Again.
Though when I think back on it, I'm not sure there was a chance of not screwing up.
Shizuku's never gonna change his mind. I understand how he feels, though…
Fuuuuuuuuck how did this- How does it even get this complicated?
One thing's certain, though: leaving is the only option. My life is fucked in every way here.
Look, god… Just give me one thing that doesn't blow up in my face, okay? One thing. Like, a cat. Or a turtle. Something I don't have to keep up pretences for. A bloody canary would do. We're not allowed pets at the dorm in Rome, so a cat would be nice.
Yeah yeah, just pouring my mind out like a drunkard in the park – I know. It's not like I've ever given a proper prayer anyway. It just gives my thoughts someplace to go, okay? It's like having a flock of scared birds in my head. Round and round in circles and never settle. This way I can slow down. Get a sense of how things stand and where I stand.
…I wouldn't mind it if you answered, though.
A/N:
Pookas are Celtic trickster spirits/shape-shifters known to be notorious liars.
If it looks strange that Megumi's rank is higher when she finds Midori than it is when she dies, that is because she was demoted for insubordination when she adopted the demon instead of exorcising it. =)
Contest? Contest!
Or something like that. I'd like to think at least some of you wonder just how the hell Midori and Sen gathered jizz for Sen's hairstyle: I wonder about that myself, in fact. =u=' So tell me how you think it happened – every whacky idea is good – and if any suggestion gets my muse excited I'll write it as a scene in BtEatB. Sounds fun? I won't be updating till this semester's finals are over, so take your time and figure out how they did it. =)
Dear Mochi
Wow… You read all this that fast…? I'm really flattered. x) That tends to ruin my eloquence, but I'm so glad you found my stories captivating. Thank you so much for your review! (Gotta remember to hug Zeitdieb for being my unpaid advertisement pole in German websites. And maybe rub against her in indecent ways. Yeah, I think I'll do that.)
You've been stalking me all around the web, have you? xP Such kind words for the cover image – thank you again! In the cosplay, everything is made by me except the tailcoat, which is made by my girlfriend. =) I try to learn all kinds of artistic techniques… with mixed success. xD Thanks for reviewing! There will be more of TEotB, but at slower update pace, because Life is full of things I must do before I can do things I want to do.
[stingi idiot... how could he hurt Shiro so much T_T I know its because he is a demon (well written!) but... Thats not the way to get him! You lost him! T_T How do you gonna write... get the trust back?]
- Yep, you're right. Mephisto is a stingy idiot – and eventually, he might even realise that himself. His pride might be too big for him to admit openly that it was a mistake to exploit Shiro like this, but he will nonetheless make an effort to win his lion back. =)
Dear Dare mo
[Belial would want to try figure skating? Awww! Is kinda cute! Shiro have to give him a pair of ice skates like a Christmas's present, with one condition: Belial should send photos of his..progress]
- …I think I need to actually do this in arc 3 now. xD Belial gets too little appreciation for his hard work: he's not even a selectable character to search for in fanfics! He needs a Christmas present, absolutely. ;)
[(the curl IS Mephisto's horn?! Wait! ["I have horns; I just don't let them show. They tend to make the clergy rather jumpy – not to mention they limit the selection of hats remarkably."] You knew!) then, how in Assiah or Gehenna, could demon Shiro cut his horn? that soun even more painfull than filed down the teeth, or cut the ears...]
- No no no, I didn't know that until last month or so: I just got lucky and had ideas similar to Kato's. =P I was intrigued by her choice since the main component of horns is keratin, and it's the same component that forms hair. I don't really know how the relation between horns and hair works in AnE, though. I mean, look at Amaimon's hair spike after Koneko hit it with a firework. xD I don't think his horns turned broccoli-like when that happened, I can't even imagine how that would look/work… If I'm going to wing a theory, it could be that the shape of a (high-level) demon's horns influences the shape his/her hair grows in: keratin producing cells in the head region communicating with other keratin producing cells in the head region? So the hair is a representation of the horns, but it's still hair: cutting it won't affect the horns, and it will grow back in the same shape if you cut it? (If a haircut affected the horns I guess demon!Shiro would look a bit like Hellboy with his hair protuberance cut off…)
[Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! You REALLY love to do that to me right? And then you say "more of this in Rome or after Rome" and i can't sleep by that dammit suspense!STOP THE SUSPENCE! ... Nee tell me! the presence..is not Satan, i hope?]
- Get an account and you won't have to put up with suspense~ êwê No, the presence isn't Satan: chapter 127 clarifies things. (I love teasing you? What makes you think that? êuê)