A/N: Have I subjected any of you to my whinings that nobody makes use of the mythological goodiness in Ao no Exorcist? I'm sorry if I have. But, it seems like if you just whine long enough, somebody will actually get to it. The somebody has the pen name Roku – Molester of Science and the story he's writing is called Children of Helheim. The other funny thing about this guy is that he grew up with the same version of the Norse myths as I did: Madsen's Valhalla comics (you'd love them: I've used Valhalla's Loki as a reference for my Mephisto at least once). The third funny thing is that he's Danish and lives, like, just across the strait from where I live. He's got some very thorough, very well planned writing going on there, so if you're interested please check it out and tell him what you think. =)
/ Dimwit
Refs to ch: 11, 45, 64, 70
I do not own or profit from any of what Kazue Kato has created.
May month had been brutal not just in terms of weather. The onslaught of exams had even made other cram school students than Shiro take to cigarettes to clear their heads and calm their nerves: himself he had seen scripture verses sliding over the insides of his eyelids every night when he went to sleep. But now it was over. It was early June, exam results were up on the noticeboard, and the relief was tangible in the corridor archways and on the faces of the students. What came now was a different kind of tension, the kind that felt like sparkling water in one's veins. They were going to be given their robes and their badges, and they were going to graduate as exorcists.
All students had their own mail compartments at the Academy. Shiro's rarely ever had anything in it – maybe the occasional anonymous hate mail to Satan's vessel, but even those were growing fewer – but he checked it every day anyway since notifications from the school were sent to that compartment. Today, he checked it for very specific reasons: last week they had taken ID photos for their exorcist licenses, and the cards would arrive on the morning of the graduation day.
The envelope looked harmless enough – standard Order stationary with the emblem in one corner and his name in the middle. The ID card inside it looked just as it should, once his switchblade had cut the envelope open with accustomed ease. Shiro took a moment to just look at the tiny piece of plastic and accustom himself to the thought that, starting today, he would be a licensed-
Shiro froze.
No. It couldn't be. Not even he would-
"Oh he would." Inside, Shiro snarled. Outside, he closed his mail compartment with perfect calm.
The frightening individuals aren't the ones that scream and thrash when they explode. The frightening ones are those who walk away quietly. Calmly. Coldly. Their rage doesn't lash out. Their rage is theirs, burning like ice in their veins, and it distils them into something sharp and merciless.
Shiro himself didn't notice how students hurried out of his way when he stalked through campus. He didn't see the shudder in their eyes when he passed them by. The only thing he was aware of was how the cold rage grew hotter as the demon's presence grew closer – how his shields grew thinner and thinner with each step. It was like waking up, the sweet feeling of his monochrome world gaining colour and of being alive, so gloriously awake and alive.
And furious.
Shiro threw open the office doors with a force that sent them rebounding off the walls on either side. The slam caused the air conditioner to sputter alarmingly from above the door, but it regained its breath. Shiro strode across the floor, past the round table, straight for Samael's cluttered desk. He ignored the greeting and the fake smile and slapped his ID card down on the desktop.
"You think this is funny?" The card landed with a smack louder than what should come from such a light object.
Fujimoto, Shiro Alexander
570510-6951
Order of the True Cross: Lower Second Class Toy Boy
Aria, Dragoon
Samael cast a moderately interested glance at the card, as he already knew what it said and what it should have said.
"I'm a man of my word", he replied easily. His air of innocence was in stark contrast to the glee that practically buzzed around him. "I told you quite clearly what I would do if you kept calling me by undignified nicknames."
Not for the first time, Shiro wished he had had the means to really hurt Samael. He hadn't. But one day he would. Anticipating that day, he filed the moment away in memory, in the steadily growing archive of things he would pay him back for when he found a way to give the son of a fuck what he deserved. Patience, patience, and knowledge: one day…
"First off, we're not on joking terms", he spat. "Second, you want my cooperation; I know you do. Did it ever cross your dickwad mind that I would happily give you that if you quit being an asshole all the time? I bet it did. But that wouldn't be half as fun, so you keep being an asshole – and that's why, Sammy, I keep calling you undignified nicknames, 'cause I know you'll screw me over anyway even if I stop." When Shiro was done, he took a moment to pat himself in the back for keeping his head clear enough to deliver that piece of mind.
"My my: are you trying to fool yourself or me? You would never happily bow to anyone, little lion. You're much too fond of-"
"That's why I said cooperation – but I guess that word is unfamiliar to you?" he retorted venomously. "Too high and mighty to ask, so you resort to fucking people over until they do as you want."
The only reaction he got out of Samael, however, was a less than impressed quirk of his facial features. Like one who is getting tired of how his puppy dog won't cease to fruitlessly bite his shoes.
"It's hardly my fault you've lost all sense of humour. Really, doesn't it get dull to be that morose all the time?"
What followed was one of those moments Shiro had a complete blackout from sheer incredulous rage that didn't know what to do with itself. Not his fault that-?! There was so much that was his fault that Shiro didn't even know where to begin because evidently it was some fucking mystery to Samael how he could be too hurt and angry to feel like joking as if nothing had happened!
"It does, doesn't it?" the demon concluded in the silence while Shiro was still struggling with finding a way to make the idiot see that everything was his fault. "Perhaps this will help lift your spirits?"
The instant Samael uttered those words, Shiro felt it. It was something he had felt all the time while he had cooking classes with Ukobach and Belial: a shudder, rippling over his eardrums as if tickled by a sound that didn't exist. He had assumed it was some kind of wind rush from the exhaust hood above the stove, or some particularly high-pitched squeak in Ukobach's chattering, that had caused it. Needless to say, there was no stove in Samael's office.
"The air conditioner…?"
Shiro wasn't given time to ponder what else it could be because, as if on cue, the door to the office bathroom was opened – or the door to what should have been the bathroom. Belial stepped through and stepped to the side, holding the door open and bowing for the line of people trailing in from one of the cram school's classrooms. Shiro recognised all of them as his cram school teachers, some padding through in easy gait while others walked a bit awkwardly, with their hands behind their backs. Sticking out like a pair of sore thumbs in the throng of black robes were the floral patterned kimonos of Moriyama Mayu and Sayuri. They all formed a line, standing side by side and putting a cagey Shiro in between Samael's desk and the wall of secretive, smiling exorcists.
Was he supposed to do something? Say something…? Shiro's anger was slowly replaced by wary confusion over this turn of events. The longer the silence dragged on, the more did he think the teaching staff was going to pull a practical joke on him after all.
"So." The one who spoke was his Demonology teacher, elderly little Kohu-sensei. "As the most senior member of the staff, I have the privilege of sharing my thoughts first: my thoughts on you, that is." He must have tensed up when she said it; she wouldn't be smiling like that otherwise. It was her yokai yakuza Smile of Having You at Her Mercy. "You are by far the most attentive student I've had, although not one who turned in all his homework on time." Having delivered her jab in satisfactory manner, Kohu-sensei seemed to soften her attitude, until she appeared more like a tender old grandmother. "But what makes you truly stand out is that you are the only one who managed to get Sir Pheles into a proper suit."
It was bordering on the absurd, to hear an old lady speak of the King of Time the same way she spoke of an unreliable student. He knew how Goggles-sensei viewed Samael, but what kind of history Kohu-sensei had with him was something Shiro could never guess. Samael himself seemed only mildly affronted by the jibe; his eyebrows had risen in surprise, but his eyes remained unimpressedly half-mast. As far as he was concerned, all his suits were proper.
"That may not have much to do with your education", Kohu admitted, "but it says something of what kind of man you are, and what we can expect from you as an exorcist. You have your own way of doing things, and though it's often an unorthodox way I don't think anyone here can complain about the results. They may not always appreciate your way of doing things in Rome, but this once I'll say to you: don't listen to your teachers." There it was again, the yokai yakuza smile. This time, however, it was a conspiratorial smile: a smile that included him in the loop. "Do things your way, and they will be as astonished by the results as we have been. Good luck, young man." Next to her, Toshio-sensei handed her a bundle he had been hiding behind his back. Kohu-sensei, in turn, padded forward and offered it to Shiro. It was black fabric, folded square and neat, with white edges trimming the lapels and silver buttons gleaming in the lamplight.
"Thank you, sensei."
As the old woman returned to her spot in the line, Futotsuki-sensei cleared his throat. The Tamer instructor had aged during the clashes between the Order and his clan, making him greyer than Kohu-sensei. Over the past year he had also been cultivating a dragon moustache and was starting to look distinctly like his salamander familiar.
"Though not of the same venerable age as Kohu-senpai, I am quite old", his resonant voice declared. "When Sir Pheles asked us if we wished to give you a few parting words, I had hoped those years would have given me some form of wisdom to impart on you. Sadly, I think I can only tell you what we both already know." The old man smiled warmly at him. "I have not changed my opinion of you since you first summoned a shahrokh in my class: you have the makings of an excellent Tamer, and an exceptional exorcist."
Shiro squared his shoulders where he stood and fought viciously against the heat that rose in his cheeks. All this talk about 'exceptional' when half the time he was just bumbling ahead like an idiot and improvising as he got into trouble...
"Just bear in mind that the extraordinary are always fewer in number than the ordinary, and that a majority may not always look kindly upon a minority that is unlike themselves", said Futotsuki-sensei sombrely. It was a sudden change of mood, but it was the words of a man who knew the weight of what he said. "You, especially, carry a burden that other exorcists don't: I pray that you will continue to find the strength within yourself to bear it, and bear all the additional burdens it might cause to fall on you." He bowed, and Shiro bowed reflexively in response. "Best of luck in life, Fujimoto-kun."
"Thank you, sensei."
The pattern was clear to him now, so Shiro wasn't surprised when the next teacher spoke up. He hadn't had many classes with Toshio-sensei, only been at the receiving end of the Knight teacher's scolding the times he had acted rashly on missions.
"You're not the worst Knight I've had." Toshio-sensei's voice made it clear he still wasn't far from taking the cake. "I thought I should start off with the good part. The worst one quit after he stabbed himself in the shin – you can thank Sir Pheles for taking you out of class before you could manage that. I don't know what he did when he trained you but I sure couldn't have done it. I only have one advice for you in Italy: get your Knight instructor to train you in the German school of European swordsmanship. I know Rome has this romantic attachment to the Italian style but you're not cut out for the Italian style. The Germans are the ones with the dirty tricks. I hear you're good with those." The tall, sturdy man cast a quick but telling glance at Samael and his clipped tress of hair, and Shiro wondered just how all the gossip reached the teachers' staff room. "No reason not to use one's talents, right? And no excuse not to work on one's shortcomings." Toshio-sensei's lips quirked into the disapproving frown Shiro had come to know very well during the missions the Knight supervised. "I'm speaking for the whole staff when I say quit your suicidal solo runs, Fujimoto-kun. Do that and there won't be any need for me to wish you luck in Rome – but knowing what a stubborn head you've got on those shoulders I guess it's best I wish you good luck over there anyway. So good luck."
A smirk quirked Shiro's lips. That was the least heartfelt well wishing he had received that day.
"I think I'll rather stick to Kohu-sensei's advice and not listen to my teachers", he grinned, relishing in the feeling of having his quick mouth back. It was so easy to string together comeback lines when he wasn't preoccupied with guarding himself at all times. "But thanks."
"If only you were that smart in the field, Fujimoto", Toshio-sensei threw back. "Matsuri-kohai?"
Toshio looked to the spindly Anti-demon pharmacology teacher next to him, silently asking if she needed support. Matsuri had taken a bad fall during a mission earlier in the week. The result was a concussion and an open fracture in her left arm, as well as damage to her elbow. It was unclear whether she would have full mobility back or not. Despite being bandaged and heavily drugged on painkillers, she showed no signs of discomfort or fuzziness when she spoke:
"I was a bit saddened when you switched your Meister aim from Doctor to Aria. Of course, we have all been pushing to get you to choose our classes – except Toshio-senpai, maybe", she added with a smile. "Even so, Fujimoto-kun: I'm happy to have had you in my class, and I feel confident that you will impress your Roman Anti-demon pharmacology teacher as you have impressed me." Her expression then shifted to a sterner look. Shiro wondered if it was a template they had all agreed on beforehand: start with the uplifting parts and then bring up the criticism. "I would heed Toshio-senpai's words if I were you. That you have two Meisters doesn't mean you need to do twice the work: it means you have the flexibility to decide which kind of work to do in a given situation. That… was all words of wisdom I had to say, I believe. Good luck, Fujimoto-kun."
"Thank you, sensei. You've been a great teacher – all of you have been great teachers. Except Toshio-sensei, maybe", he added with a playful grin that made at least half of them involuntarily smile and look away.
"Too scared to take me off the list?" Goggles-sensei interjected before said teacher had a chance to snap back at him. Goggles was a scary teacher, but she was also a damn good one, so Shiro wouldn't lump her together with Toshio. "I remember how much you loved my classes when you first came here so I made you this as a keepsake. Not really neon but close enough."
Shiro had no idea what his Aria teacher was talking about until she pulled out the sign she had been hiding behind her. It was plain plywood with kanji painted in a screaming orange that reminded him of road cones. The sign read Kill me! And with a snorting chuckle, Shiro remembered that yes, that was what he had said in his first Aria class: that the passive Arias were like sitting ducks waiting to get shot down.
"The idea being that with this, you can finally be a proper Aria. See it's got a backside, too."
Goggles-sensei was enjoying herself royally as she turned the sign around, and Shiro's chuckle gained company from one or two among the other teachers. On the back of the sign she had written out the basic mnemonic of Arias: Always Rear In Action. She had been trying to hammer that into his skull for a year now.
"What they said." Goggles-sensei casually tossed her head in the direction of Toshio and Matsuri-sensei. "Exorcists work in teams for a reason: everyone's got their designated role. You'll be representing Japan in Rome and I expect you to do it professionally. They're very proud of their Roman Catholic Arias, you know; Arias from other traditions are second-rate in their eyes." Goggles-sensei fired off that nasty grin that, combined with her lidless eyes, made her look downright maniacal. "You're gonna show them who's second-rate: alright?" She held the sign out to him, as a token to seal that agreement. Shiro hefted the uniform robes in under his arm and accepted the gift. "Make me proud, kid."
"You wouldn't tell me even if you were."
"Damn right I wouldn't."
The only two teachers left to speak were the ones that Shiro had perhaps spent most time with: the unmemorable Ando and the fidgety Gokuro-sensei. To Shiro's surprise it was the massive Gokuro-sensei who spoke up first. It might have been the P.E. teacher's insecure manners or his boyish face, but Shiro had thought he was the youngest.
"I'm… not one to hold speeches." Shiro almost smiled. During the long hours he had had Gokuro-sensei as his private coach in the gym he had learnt that it wasn't really stage fright that made him fumble for words; he was that shy always. "I'll just say that I think you will knock them off their feet in Rome, Fujimoto-kun. Not literally, I mean, you'll surprise them with what you can do. I know you can do fantastic things, so just…" Gokuro-sensei halted himself and sighed. "Just don't overdo it, okay? You know your limits, but you've got to respect them as well. Good luck, Fujimoto-kun."
"I'll manage: I had a good teacher."
Gokuro appreciated that – he bowed at the same time as Shiro did. It threw him off completely, at first, until he remembered that they weren't student and teacher anymore. And Gokuro only held a Lower Second Class rank, like Shiro himself.
"Sir Pheles asked us if we wanted to say goodbye and wish you good luck in Rome", Ando-sensei began, probably not even aware that he sounded just like he did when he was explaining the drill of dissembling and reassembling firearms. "I will say goodbye, but I see no need to wish you luck, as luck is only a poor substitute for skill." He hoisted up a sign he had been holding behind his back, just like Goggles-sensei. This sign was much different, however. It was about half as long as Shiro's arm and no wider than his wrist, and he recognised it very well: it was a tile from the scoreboard by the target practice range. "I doubt they can spell your name in Rome so you'd better take this with you and put it up there. At the top." Ando-sensei tapped his finger at the hand-written number 1 set after Shiro's name. "You're the finest Dragoon I ever coached, and if Rome has anyone better I expect you to defend the honour of the Japanese Branch."
"Definitely will, sir." Shiro bowed and held his hands forward so that Ando could place the tile on top of his Aria sign and his exorcist uniform.
Moriyama Mayu was… crying? She was trying hard not to, and did manage to sound perfectly natural when she spoke, but there was an unmistakable glossy shine to her eyes.
"I haven't prepared any speech", she said, bowing slightly to excuse her lack of planning. "I just wanted to wish you luck. With everything. You're a fine young man, Shiro-kun; whatever happens, I hope you will always remember that."
That was more emotion than Shiro could handle. All he could do was swallow, bow, and mumble something that could have been "yes". Moriyama Sayuri wasn't as tender as her mother, thankfully. She was nervous in this company, he could tell from the way her hands trembled around the wrapped parcel they were holding, but all the same she set her jaw and stepped forward.
"Good luck in Rome." She loosened her hands awkwardly from the brown parcel and offered it to him. She met his eyes briefly and then quickly looked down at her gift, swallowing down the slight croak in her voice. "I made them all with elderberry flavour since I didn't know what else you like. There's a box of matches in there, too: just in case."
Their chat in the hanging gardens drifted by in memory, half transparent and void of detail. What lingered was a feeling of importance, that something had been said there that made this gift something more than just a parcel of handmade cigarettes.
"I'll make good use of those. Thank you, Sayuri-chan."
"And thank you all for coming here to send Fujimoto-kun off", Samael spoke up brightly and flashed the assembly his widest grin. "It has been a great pleasure for me as I'm sure it has for you. Now, as the time is drawing near I will ask you to leave our graduate student and me in private: we have things yet to prepare before the ceremony begins. Belial will accompany you back."
The office emptied in orderly fashion, just like the trams and subways during rush hour. Left were the honours graduate and the headmaster that would impart a few words on his prodigy exorcist before sending him off on overseas studies: a seemingly harmless setup.
Seemingly.
"Such sweet employees, truly. Mayu and Sayuri-chan too, of course…" he added as an afterthought that may or may not have been an actual afterthought. Samael glanced slyly at him out of the corner of his eye. "Have you calmed your head now?"
"I'm not strangling you: does that answer your question?" The way Samael phrased himself made questions rise in Shiro's mind, too: hunches, in fact. Hunches that this was more than it at first had seemed. "Are you ever gonna just call me up here, without the games?"
A difficult question, apparently: Samael made a great show of stroking his beard while staring off into space in thought. Shiro took that as his hunch being correct.
"Not likely but not impossible. Now, better put these safely away in your room." He snapped his fingers and made the sign, scoreboard tile, and cigarettes vanish in pink smoke. "And this where it belongs." He snapped the fingers of his other hand and switched Shiro's uniform for the exorcist robes Kohu-sensei had given him.
It felt different from the school uniform. The fabric of the robes was thick and sturdy, giving the garment a weight that embodied the responsibilities its bearer was shouldering.
Samael was busy with the new attire, too. The demon looked him up and down, eyebrows raised in surprise, as if he had forgotten what Shiro looked like.
"My my…" A small smile formed on his lips, one that was quite pleased indeed by this surprise. "You were born to wear a uniform, Shiro."
With the additional so it can be torn off and tossed on the bedroom floor, if you read the way his gaze slid over the rows of buttons.
"Stop fantasising: wouldn't wanna get nosebleed on your white tailcoat."
Samael's reaction was just what he had expected: a flash of delight in the green eyes, a suggestive grin curling the thin lips. He had seen that expression so many times, when they had immersed themselves in their verbal duels.
"You're a bit too young yet to be that appetising, little lion~"
"Not too young to give you nosebleed in other ways." Flat poker face delivery: that felt good.
If felt-?! Goddammit he didn't want to feel good about bantering with Samael! Not one more time would he fall for that! Tch, but the anger from before was gone, washed away by the heartfelt gestures from his teachers. Without new fuel he wasn't sure if he could make it flare up again.
Moreover, he didn't have the time to stand and argue.
"You gonna say anything of importance or can I get going to the ceremony?"
He had already turned to leave when, instead of speaking, Samael lifted out a small case that had been hiding behind a framed autograph of Niki Terumi. Shiro missed a beat. Maybe even two. Two was probably more like it. Did Samael have a parting gift?
Shiro had no illusions of the demon showing that kind of affection – which was exactly what had made the birthday encounter linger in his mind, like that itch Midori had talked about when she first described Samael. An itch, yes. An irritation that only became worse when he tried to scratch it.
Samael got a kick out of manipulating people: that had been abundantly clear the times he had made Shiro walk into his traps. He loved the pain he caused and he wallowed in it like a dog in shit. But that night in the graveyard? There hadn't been a single trace of gloating about him, and that wasn't even the weirdest thing. The weirdest thing was that tart sarcasm when Samael had called him an idiot. It had been a perfect match to the vibe his presence had given off then, and, as strange as that was to imagine, Shiro couldn't shake the feeling that Samael hadn't been lying: that he had been genuinely displeased with the outcome of his game.
In the split seconds Shiro had tried in vain to scratch his mental itch, Samael had placed the lacquered wooden case on his desk and unlatched the hinged lid. Inside the box was a nest of red silk with two sockets side by side. In them rested two spheres barely the size of chicken eggs, matte ochre red in colour but also patched seamlessly with all manner of shades from salmon pink to granite grey.
"Do you know what these are?"
Whatever the spheres were, Samael was like a spoiled child eager to show off his new toys.
"Looks like baoding balls", Shiro replied noncommittally, on guard but taking care to appear relaxed.
Baoding balls were an old Chinese device used both for meditation and for medical purposes: Shiro had been given a pair to practise with last year, after the splint had come off his dislocated finger. His had been of the older kind, made of metal for the weight. Rotating them around each other in one's palm improved both dexterity and strength in the muscles all the way from the elbow out into the fingers. On the inside the balls would be hollow, and held a chime mechanism that made them produce a ringing sound when rotated fast enough.
Why would Samael want to give him something like that? His fingers had been fine for months.
"Very good, but very wrong~ These are the originals that the baoding balls were modelled after." Oh. It was that kind of toy: first edition. "And as such very rare magical artefacts: touch them if you like, but I advise you not to pick them up."
Shiro shot one questioning glance at Samael before stepping closer to the desk and the lacquered case. The ball felt nothing strange when his fingertips touched it. There were no leaping sparks of magic like when he sabotaged the wards of Solomon's Seal long ago. The surface was smooth and cool, just like the metal balls he had used for rehabilitation – a bit too smooth, maybe.
Shiro's brow furrowed. The matte surface told his eyes it should be coarse in texture, like sandpaper, but his skin claimed it had been polished to perfection: the ball was so smooth it felt almost liquid against his fingers. He pressed harder against it, just to test, but it was one hundred per cent solid. Solid on the surface and hollow on the inside. But… that was impossible.
"They're made of stone…?" Made of several kinds of stone but completely solid, as if the rocks had somehow melted together to form a perfect, hollow sphere.
The demon must have found his astonishment pleasing, because he launched himself into one of those enthusiastic yet solemn introductions he would give when there was something he was proud of.
"The Norsemen called them singasteina, the singing stones: a rare amalgamation of earth magic and time magic, the first and only of their kind. My brother and I made them, long ago when I was still experimenting with artificial ways of transportation between Assiah and Gehenna. By itself one of these won't do much of anything; but as a pair…"
Samael smoothed his fingers over the other stone, as if reminiscing: then his fingers happened to brush against Shiro's own. His first reflex was to jerk his hand back, though on second thought he would rather smack Samael's hand away. He did neither. What Samael wanted was to provoke a reaction, and therefore Shiro pretended like he hadn't noticed anything.
"These stones do sing: a duet, one that harmonises at very special frequencies of magic. No matter the distance between them they will hear each other – and when they do, they switch positions in time and space seamlessly." Although 'seamlessly' seemed to be a truth with modification, given the sudden shift in Samael's mood as he remembered the process of making them: "Calibrating them right was nightmarish, to say the least; I can't sense stone and metal and Amaimon can't sense time and space. I ended up at the bottom of the North Atlantic and sweet lord the pain of getting that stone back…" He shot a toxic glare at the offending stone. "They never worked for transporting anyone across the dimensional barrier, but they will be perfect for bringing about my rendezvous with Cardinal Tanzi."
The stone was plucked from its socket in one swift sweep, and chimed faintly as it was – no magic sparks this time either. It hovered above Samael's palm, round and docile, while the demon made a motion as if he were winding a ribbon around it with his free hand.
Shiro felt it again: the ripple over his eardrums, except this ripple skimmed his whole body inside and out. Whatever magic Samael was working around that stone it was disturbing to be near it. Things were moving that shouldn't be able to move and tied things stuck that didn't want to be still: and while that was the vaguest, dumbest stuff he had ever thought, it was the closest he got to describing what Samael was doing. When he was done he seemed to scrutinise his work, letting the stone hover between his palms before snapping his fingers with both hands and sending the artefact off to somewhere Shiro would never know. Samael then closed the case, with the remaining baoding ball snug in its silk nest, and pushed it over to him with a flourish. Whereupon he dug deep into his chest pocket – too deep to be physically possible – and fished out the next object.
"This is the Kamikakushi key." What Samael presented was a leather string with a key hanging from it. It was different from the plain steel keys that rattled in the pockets of the Order's exorcists; this key was golden, with red enamel inlays that created a spiral pattern reminiscent of a snail's shell. "Unlike other magical keys this is not for transport but for storage. It has the power to create a pocket dimension wherever you insert it, and no one will be able to find what you hide in there without this key: a precaution, in case hostile elements would snoop around in your belongings. Turn it clockwise to open and counter-clockwise to seal."
Samael hung the string around his neck, and before Shiro could swat his hand away he had snuck a finger inside his collar and slipped the key inside the coat.
"And for the final touch~" The gloved fingers snapped once and plucked a small card out of the air. It looked exactly the same as the one Shiro had already gotten, except that this license said Order of the True Cross: Lower Second Class Exorcist. "Congratulations on becoming an exorcist, Shiro."
The True Cross Academy atrium was a spectacular piece of architecture. Built not unlike an opera house, it could accommodate a good two thousand people. The walls were lined with niches on all sides, even up on the balconies, and each one of them was host to a statue five metres tall, carved from solid Carrara marble. The atrium was tremendous in size and design, made to awe the students that set foot in it for the first time and for many times to come. It was the one gathering place that was large enough for the whole student body of True Cross Academy, and it was the given venue for every kind of event that meant the whole student body would be present.
It was not where the exorcist graduation was held.
Even in a country as superstitious and old-fashioned as Japan, demons were not part of reality for the general public. They were things of nature that dwelled in mountains, deep in forests, running waters, and dark caves – not in cities among people. Likewise, exorcists weren't part of people's everyday life either. The work they carried out may be vital, yet it went by completely unnoticed – unthanked – by the vast majority. If exorcists didn't graduate in the grand atrium, as the regular students did, it was because exorcists never had and never would live in the same world as they.
Exorcists graduated in the cavernous underground halls of the Order's Japanese headquarters, where the only sounds were furtive drips of water and, now, the rhythmic slap of combat boots on stone pavement. Shiro and nine other youths were marched, two and two, into the gaping Ceremonial Hall. For those who hadn't had fencing classes with Samael it was their first time seeing it, and the girl next to Shiro swept the room with big, impressed eyes that seemed to audibly wonder if there was a ceiling somewhere up there in the shadows. At the central platform they stopped and fanned out into a single line, all facing the assembly of senior exorcists that were waiting for them. The lantern light danced over the water and up at the heavy, woven banners on the walls – and over the single white uniform among all the black ones. Samael stood a little apart from the rest, flanked by a bespectacled exorcist carrying a ceremonial cushion.
On given command, the graduates saluted as one; the Order of the True Cross had, after all, risen out of the military orders of the Middle Ages.
"Today is a special day." The announcement came from a senior exorcist that Shiro didn't know. She looked like Agari might have looked if she had lived to grow old: her back was ramrod straight when she stepped forward, and the iron shine was in her smartly pinned-down hair as well as in her eyes. "We have all been where you are now, and we can attest that this is, most definitely, a turning point in your lives. Until now you have been children, and your teachers have assumed the role of parents, holding your hands and guiding your steps as you learn what it means to be exorcists. Now, we consider you adults. Now, your steps are your own to guide." Her gaze wandered over each one of them, and not until then did Shiro realise she was blinded on one eye. "From this day on you carry the duties of adults and the responsibilities of adults: that is what these robes signify. Black is the colour of death and of mourning within our Order, and what we mourn is ourselves. We mourn our desires. Our selfishness. Our lives." She allowed each word time to echo off the cavern walls, soak in and settle in the shadows. "These are things that we, as exorcists, forswear in order to devote ourselves wholly to a greater purpose: that of serving God and serving humanity. We are His sword, and humanity's shield; that is what this badge signifies."
On cue, Samael and the exorcist carrying the cushion strode forward. Ten badges gleamed on the silk surface. As the exorcist continued her solemn speech, the Branch Director worked his way from left to right, fastening a badge to the uniform lapel of each graduate exorcist.
"Blue stands for servitude, grace, and hope; red stands for the presence of the Lord and the blood of the martyrs."
When it was Shiro's turn to receive his badge he stared blankly straight ahead, getting his eyes stabbed by the garish pink and polka dots of the Branch Director's cravat. That was how he was expected to address Samael from now on: Branch Director. This graduation made them colleagues, which technically brought them closer – horizontally. At the same time it highlighted the vertical distance between them: the executive and the subordinate, the one who gave orders and the one who kept his mouth shut and obeyed.
"That sounds about right", Shiro mused dryly – anything to distract his thoughts from the deft fingers that ghosted his chest and pinned the badge in place. "Cooperation is when people cooperate with you."
"The cross stands for victory over evil, for love, and for sacrifices made for love", the one-eyed commander droned on. "When we wear this cross over our hearts, we commit ourselves to the Lord, to the fight against evil, and to sacrifice ourselves, as our Lord God did, out of love for mankind."
Shiro liked his teachers' speeches better: they were briefer and they had the good sense of delivering their points with a humorous twist. One look at Samael said he was thinking the exact same thing. When it was his turn to speak, as the one holding the office of Branch Director, he kept it short and chipper: congratulations to the achievement, please help yourselves to food and drink in the foyer, for achievements require celebration. No one batted an eye at this. The Branch Director was an eccentric sort, everybody knew that. It was the image Samael had cultivated and he played the part to perfection.
What he didn't know – what neither of them knew – was that the script of the performance had changed. Not there and then. Not elsewhere and before. For change of this kind there was no when, no where: only the fact that things had changed, and were changing still. Gears turned, in a million places at a million unwitting times, and together they were wrenching history upon a very different path, so clandestinely it went unnoticed even by the King of Time.
That day, when Fujimoto Shiro gained the title of exorcist, new lines were written. Old lines were erased. Circles were broken, and new paths emerged.
It was, though neither of them knew it, the beginning of the end.
A/N:
(One day the manga will show what graduation actually looks like for exorcists. That is the day I will wave a huge red flag around and shout "This scene takes place 30 years ago! A lot has changed since then okay?!" Because ooooh boy will I get screwed over for this. x'D)
Yokai yakuza, since I don't think you remember that particular in-joke within the staff, is from chapter 70, when Shiro gets to see what his teachers are like outside their roles as teachers. That's also when he thought they were going to pull a practical joke on him.
Niki Terumi is the actress who voiced Simone in La Seine no Hoshi.
The Kamikakushi key is rendered as the Key of Vanishment in some English translations, but I'm not making the name up. I can't help but find it funny that the key is called "spirited away": Samael is an otaku through and through. x) The literal meaning of kamikakushi is something akin to "hidden by the gods", which I find even more funny considering his past record. Also, guys: I have no idea how the Kamikakushi key actually works. I'm just chancing a guess here based on how it seems to work in the manga.
Singasteinn?
Singasteinn is a word mentioned in Húsdrápa, a poem that is part of the Prose Edda. The story is essentially that Loke and Heimdall battled (in the shape of seals) over this singasteinn on a skerry out in the sea. Now, there's never any mention of singing stones elsewhere in the Prose Edda as far as I know, so scholars have been assuming that Singasteinn was the name of the skerry they fought on.
There is an alternative interpretation, however. It could be that the singasteinn is actually a signasteinn, which would make much more sense. A signasteinn is a magic stone amulet, and Loke and Heimdall could have been fighting over that. That the battle takes place in the sea kind of supports this interpretation: a signasteinn is no stone at all, but a kind of Caribbean nut that sometimes drifted ashore on Scandinavian beaches and was thought to hold magic properties.
But this is Blue Exorcist-verse, and furthermore Dimwit-compulsively-meddles-with-history-verse. So the old Prose Edda poem isn't misspelled at all: it did talk about a singing stone, and the stone was indeed magic. Contemporary scholars just aren't aware of that. C:
Exorcist equipment
The black exorcist robes are probably just meant to be reminiscent of priestly robes merged with a military uniform. I don't know if they actually mean anything, but the black colour of a Catholic priest's robe means presicely what One Eyed Lady said: you mourn your "death" as you give up your own life in order to serve god fully.
The badge itself is full of symbolism, of course, but huge disclaimer here: I'm just making an interpretation. The combination of blue and red in ecclesiastical contexts is often seen on Virgin Mary, where it's interpreted to mean earthly and divine nature. While that does work for the exorcists, I felt like separating the colours gave a more holistic picture of what I imagine an exorcist's job would be like: serving god, serving the people, representing hope, laying down your life for your cause. The cross itself, well: love and (self) sacrifice. (One could add punishment, atonement, death, and suffering here, but Christians themselves like to keep a positive view of it and at this ceremony we are looking through the eyes of a Christian Order.)
The shape of the badge: once again it's all interpretations. The relative heart shape could be a reference to the Sacred Heart, which represents Jesus' divine love for humanity. There also is an overall focus on hearts in AnE: the heart as the source of both power and weakness, in both humans and demons. There's a funny difference there, if you think about it (as I tend to do too often for my own good). For a demon, laying bare one's heart is a weakness, and therefore they keep their hearts (where heart also means one's true feelings and desires) concealed. For a human, baring one's heart and being honest with oneself is the one sure way to prevent demons from taking advantage of held-in emotions. So exorcists are encouraged to "wear their heart on their sleeve" – or rather wear it on their lapel?
Shield: well, we have been given one reference to what the emblem looked like in the Middle Ages, when the Order was founded (AnE ch 38, second page). The knight's shield is painted with the four-quadrant heart design and the barred helmet resting on top. So while the badge is shaped like the shield of a Medieval knight, it started out as a heraldic symbol on a shield belonging to a Medieval knight, and I'm just overly concerned with knitting together something that sounds like legit lore. xD The Order's exorcists don't carry shields anymore but the symbolism is there in the function they fill as the protectors of Assiah.
A helmet with a visor of barred design, such as the one on the badge, is reserved for members of the nobility. While I don't know what nobility Kato has in mind with that (if she's aware of the significance) I know which nobility I will trace that heraldic element to. =] ("More on that in Rome.")
The sword is the weapon most commonly associated with knights. If you look at the caparison on the knight's horse, you have the emblem there as well. You can also glean that the tip pointing downwards is slightly elongated (even more elongated later on the badges). What that is supposed to be I don't know, so we're completely off canon ground now. I could guess it represents either a spear, lance, spear-head, or sword. In heraldry they all have military meanings, of course: service and devotion to honour and chivalry (spear/lance), ready for battle (spear-head), military honour, power and freedom (sword). Out of those I'm choosing the sword interpretation mostly because it gives me more metaphors and symbolism to work with. Outside of heraldic imagery, the sword has many meanings in religious context. In Christianity you most prominently find it representing truth (the Word of God), and fighting in the name of justice.
Your pseudo-historian author will be back with more heraldic nonsense later on when more of (my version of) the Order's history comes to light. c:
Dear Yoko-Zuki10
Chapter 136: that is all I will say. ;) It's when Shiro arrives in Rome and at least some of your questions are answered. (You want Shiro-pon to have more misfortunes?! ...well, sadly, so do I. Of course I will squeeze in more depressing stuff before Rome. |-D)
I'm amazed that so many express their liking of Kasumi. =o I want to thank you for reading, but I feel that more than that I want to express my gratitude that you appreciate an OC like this. =')
/ Dimwit