This is an old fic that's been long in the works, and honestly still a WIP, but I'm very much focused on it right now, so who knows, maybe I'll finish this as quickly as my last fic!

Written in dedication to my dear friend, Dimwitt, & with thanks to my partner in crime, TheKillerBunny, who partly wrote some scenes of this, and proofread/edited the rest of it.

Content warning: Young Shura is in this chapter... along with her questionable and uncomfortable upbringing.

The Sending

ROUND TABLE COUNCIL HALL

"Thank you all for coming on such a short notice."

It was in the very early hours of the morning when, deep beneath the Vatican Palace, an emergency meeting was hosted at the Knights of the True Cross Headquarters. Seated around the room were several high-ranking members of the Order, as well as none other than the three individuals who have led the Knights of the True Cross Order since its inception—the Grigori.

"We've had a hard, painful year, as you are all intimately aware of. Our Organization has suffered many heavy losses in our battle to reclaim Asylum and its hostages from Satan's grip. And in the end, despite all our precautions, we suffered an even greater loss within our ranks in just a single night. The nightmares that this dreadful event has fueled and the grief that now sits in our hearts will not be overcome easily. But it is, at least, a small comfort to see those of you that remain with us."

The Grigori's somber voice carried across the large, circular room. Of the nine individuals sitting around the table, none of them said a word for a long moment, allowing the silence to stretch—but the heavy pause could not linger long. The weight of the duties they all carried pressed on.

"As much as I appreciate the pleasantries, we do not exactly have the time to spare on them. There are still a great many things for us to do and we are short-staffed as it is. Why have you summoned us here today, Grigori?" Adam Kozlov, the head of the Romanian Branch Office, asked, impatience etched in his tone.

"Took the words right out of my mouth." Shiro Fujimoto, a highly renowned exorcist from the Japanese branch, grumbled. "We should be working, not sitting here."

"We called you here for that very reason. But before we touch on that, there is another matter we would like to settle first. Have there been any updates on the current whereabouts of Yuri Egin?"

That particular line of questioning caused Shiro to grimace. "No luck here," he said, shaking his head. "After I dealt with the kids, I went back to look for her, but she completely vanished. How, I don't know. It didn't seem like she could walk at the time."

"She must have had help," Lucy Yang, an experienced exorcist from the Chinese branch, said. "But none of my teams have seen hide nor hair of her or any sort of accomplice." She shared a brief glance with her companion, a blond, muscular exorcist from the Mexican branch sitting on her left-hand side.

"Nor have mine," Osceola Redarm confirmed, crossing his arms over his chest. "We've kept an eye on all her former friends and acquaintances these past few months. None have pinged our radar, but we will continue to investigate."

"Perhaps she, too, passed away during the Blue Night," the smooth voice of Mephisto Pheles proposed. The Honorary Knight was sitting across from the Grigori, leaning forward with his chin hovering over his gloved hands as he spoke. "I can't imagine she met a kind end after having lost her children. Even if the loss itself didn't drive her to suicide, I doubt that even Satan himself was pleased with her towards the end. That might explain why you haven't been able to find a trace of her."

"Oh, you would know all about that, wouldn't you?" It was Tamara Vollas, the only remaining Arc Knight alive today, who spoke up. The Norwegian woman was looking at Mephisto with suspicion in her eyes. "That's convenient end for Yuri Egin, isn't it? On paper that is."

"My dear ma'am, I haven't got a clue on what you're trying to imply. Surely you don't suspect me in having a hand in the matter?" Mephisto asked, an amused smirk curling on the side of his lips.

Tamara's gaze was as cold and as sharp as a freshly-cut sapphire. "Frankly, Sir Pheles, I think you ought to remember your place. It is the fault of your very kind that we are in this position. And yet you dare sit among us, without a single ounce of remorse?"

"My dear, believe me when I say that I, too, have suffered a great loss thanks to this catastrophe. While I cannot help my familial ties, my loyalty, as always, remains on the side of the Knights of the True Cross Order."

"Pheles has been nothing but faithful." Shiro, who had drawn the short straw of sitting next to the Demon King, couldn't help but to cut in. He eyed Tamara with an irritated scowl as he crossed his arms. "Just because Satan decided to attack Assiah doesn't mean this guy had a hand in it. We don't all follow in our father's footsteps, do we, Tamara?" He furrowed his brow and looked across the table at her. Tamara met his gaze with a fierce glare, the outline of her jaw growing taut. "Throwing suspicion on someone as valuable as Pheles just because he's one of the Baal is a sure fire way to cause unrest, and we can't afford that right now. Not after what happened."

"You will hold your tongue on matters that do not concern you," Tamara told him, her voice sharp.

"But Father Fujimoto is correct." The soft voice of the sole female member of the Grigori cut through. She was looking straight at Mephisto as she spoke. "This isn't the time to fight amongst ourselves. And it was us that requested Sir Pheles to join us today."

"Indeed, it was. And why was that, exactly?" Mephisto asked with a polite smile, not at all hiding the glimmer of curiosity in his keen, emerald eyes.

The rest of the participants sitting around the round table were curious too. They all looked at the Grigori, expectant. It was the oldest of the trio, whose mustache was the only visible part of his face, who answered the question, his voice low and gravely.

"The dead need guidance," he said.

At once, the exorcists sitting around the council hall straightened up. They glanced among each other with uncertainty. Lucy's sharp gaze lingered on Tamara first, and then on Shiro.

When Shiro met her eyes, he felt a heavy weight sink in the pit of his stomach.

"And whom amongst us shall be granted the honor?" Lucy asked, when no one else dared to speak.

The question caused Adam's face to lose some color. He visibly swallowed as he averted his gaze from the Grigori's direction. Osceola's expression, in the meantime, had become drawn, the grimace on his lips somber. Even Tamara, who was known for her steadfast composure, looked nervous as they waited for the Grigori's answer. Her hands clenched silently in front of her as she steeled herself for their response.

"Father Fujimoto... there is no one better suited than you, who personally faced and defied Satan time and time again, and who defeated his spawn, to take up the mantle left by Abel. Will you accept?"

I should have known that it would turn out like this.

Shiro did not allow himself to show any outward reaction. He leaned forward to speak, his voice coming out in a measured, even tone. "Yes, of course."

It was a bittersweet honor. For years, he'd dreamed of becoming paladin. All he'd ever wanted was to be freed from the shackles that kept him bound from the moment he had first opened his eyes into this world. And becoming the paladin had been the ultimate solution—it meant having status, money, honor, even women. He had considered this the greatest freedom, back then.

But a certain demon's cynical warning had been right from the start - becoming paladin wasn't a ticket to freedom, and Shiro had realized his folly much too late in the game.

But I don't have time to dwell on that now, he told himself.

"I am grateful for the honor." He addressed the room with a formality he had not cared to show earlier in the meeting, lest they doubt his sincerity. "But I have to admit I have some… apprehension of the task ahead. The Blue Night was global. It was all over the world." He paused, weighing the implications even as he spoke. "How am I supposed to do something on that scale?"

"That is where Sir Pheles comes in," the eldest of the Grigori answered. "We are well aware that this is an unprecedented event. Time is of the essence here and the range you must cover is vast. It will not be an easy task… As such, we are requesting that those of you in this room be present to support Father Fujimoto in what is to come. You will need to obtain the blessings of The Eight to increase your range of the Rite of Passing, and there must be little delay in between each of your prayers. Reaching each location would take much too long by any regular means of transportation."

"Which is why, Sir Pheles," the female Grigori continued, "we will need you to aid everyone here by providing them with your special means of transportation. You will, of course, need to keep your distance during the proceedings, but I think it would be best if you remained within reach… A precaution should things go south."

For a time, no one spoke as they all drank in the challenges that lay ahead of them. Only Mephisto, as cool as ever, seem unperturbed as he answered the Grigori's request.

"As you wish," the Demon King said, inclining his head in acquiescence as a smile, as smooth and as sharp as a dagger, curved his lips. "I will—"

But Tamara finally found her words then—the very sound of Mephisto's voice cut through the rest of her shock, and she rose to her feet fast, pressing her hands heavily down on the table. "Grigori! Surely, you can't expect us to take him along! His presence itself would be an insult to the dead!" Tamara's voice rose as she glared heatedly in the Demon King's direction.

Mephisto let out a small huff at the interruption. He frowned at the Norwegian exorcist, the curl at the top of his head twitching slightly. "Need I remind you who exactly you will be summoning to help these unfortunate souls peacefully pass on to the next world? I assure you, I will, in no way, disturb the proceedings."

Despite his somber mood, Shiro couldn't help but to hide a quiet snort beneath his breath; it was further drowned out by Adam. He, too, was no longer shell-shocked, but instead spluttering with outrage.

"Excuse me, but—the blessings of The Eight? That will take us at least a week to manage!" he protested. "You can't possibly ask all of us to participate. We don't exactly have the time to spare for that."

Osceola glanced at Shiro with a sympathetic frown, but nodded along with Adam's words. "We still have many injured that need tending, barriers that need restoring, and several demon outbreaks that must be dealt with, despite our shortage of personnel. I know this is no easy task to perform, but is it really wise for us to abandon our posts so soon?"

Shiro's hands briefly rubbed his face, fingertips pressing into his temples. "You know I hate to say it, but that kind of stuff will have to be delegated." With the little personnel they had left, and so many of them inexperienced, it was a hard choice to leave them behind to handle it all on their own.

And yet… Shiro leaned forward on his elbows, his expression grave.

"There is no time to spare, and we oughta look at the big picture here. This ritual can't be spread out. It's either all at once or not at all. It might take a week… Probably a few more days if things don't go as planned?" Shiro shook his head, as if to wave away the pessimistic thought. "It's not ideal, but if we don't do it soon, we'll have an outbreak unlike any we've seen in our time. Preventative measures have to be taken or our problem will only get bigger. And it's already big enough." The paladin sat up and scanned the room for further protests. "The sooner we ensure the dead have all passed on, the better. It's not the best odds… but this is our best option."

"Hmm." A gravely hum of thought carried across the table. Shiro met Lucy's gaze once more and she nodded in agreement. "I stand with the Grigori and the Paladin. We have less than 48 hours to prepare and delegate. We should make use of it."

Beside her, Adam let out a long sigh and slumped into his seat tiredly. "I suppose if there is no other way... Very well."

"You will need to wrap up your affairs in less time than that, Shiro," the Grigori cautioned. "You must begin your preparations for the Rite of Passing tonight. Please see to it that you are on time for them."

"I'll be there." Shiro nodded, shooting a glance towards Mephisto, who met his eyes briefly with a raised eyebrow before redirecting his attention to the next speaker.

"If that is all, Grigori, then I request that we be allowed to take our leave," Tamara cut in. Her hands were still curled into fists, her body taut with frustration. A few dark curls had slipped out of her ponytail and were now hanging at the side of her face, framing her expression away from their sight.

"Tamara..." The Grigori member nearest to her let out a quiet sigh. It was clear to all of them that the Arc Knight felt her concerns had hardly been addressed. "This is for the sake of the living as much as it is for the dead. I do hope you will be able to find some peace of mind by the time this is over."

"...That is not something that can be easily found. Not after what happened." There was a slight pause before Tamara's head lifted again. Though her expression betrayed nothing, there was a glimmer of sorrow darkening in the depths of her blue eyes. "But we all have a duty to see to. I have not forgotten that," she said as she stared straight at the Grigori, and then at Shiro.

"We are grateful for everyone's cooperation in this matter. We wish you the best of luck on the task ahead," the female Grigori said.

"We are depending on all of you," the eldest added, in a low somber voice.

Despite his words, several gazes were unconsciously drawn towards Shiro. But once the newly-appointed paladin stood, the charged tension in the room dissolved, if only just a little, and they all left one by one as they moved to prepare.

Shiro picked up his pace as he heard Tamara's heels clicking away at a fast pace. The moment he was out of the meeting room, he made a beeline towards the Norwegian exorcist. "Tamara!" he said, holding out his hand towards the Norwegian exorcist once she turned around. "Sorry for what I said, earlier. I'm counting on you." There was a respectful and somber tone to his words, and a sincere glint in his eyes.

Tamara stared at the hand before her. She looked at it in silence for a long moment before lifting her head. She met Shiro's gaze with her own, gauging him, and reached over to accept his hand. "Apology accepted," she said curtly. Then, her gaze strayed from his own for a moment as she glanced over Shiro's shoulder, just in time to see Mephisto exit the meeting room, a jaunty beat to his step. His presence itself was enough to make her grip tighten. The fact that he outright stopped to stare at them made her jaw tense as well. She looked back at Shiro with a tight frown.

"Rest assured that despite my current feelings, I, and the rest of the team, will definitely do our part in this without any hesitation. You don't have to worry about us. But it is you who we are all counting on, Father Fujimoto. It is no small task that the Grigori has placed on your shoulders. So please," she said, letting her hand fall back to her side, "do your best. For their sake. We cannot afford to make any mistakes."

"Don't I know it." Shiro offered her a lopsided smile. "Don't worry. I know what's at stake. I'll be doing my best to do this properly. It'll be reassuring to have you all behind me."

"You just keep up that confidence, and try not to give us too much work, Father," Osceola said with a small chuckle as he passed by them, delivering a heavy, friendly pat across Shiro's back. "Let's get this over with as quickly and smoothly as possible."

Shiro spared a small cough as he straightened up again. "Agreed. No pressure, right? It'll be a breeze."

"Such youth." Lucy walked past, a hint of a smile at the corner of her lips.

"You should redirect that endless enthusiasm of yours somewhere more productive," Adam said, sparing them a brief glance as he made his way to the nearest door, his coat billowing behind him.

Osceola let out a sigh that lifted his shoulders. "Work, work, work," he said, shaking his head from side to side. "It never ends."

"Nope." Shiro gave a melodramatic sigh. "What are we gonna do around all these workaholics, huh?"

"Work some more!" Adam called back to them as he inserted one the keys in his key ring into the door's lock. "Don't underestimate that promotion of yours, Father. If you thought the paperwork was bad before..."

The man left them with that remark hanging in the air. Shiro winced while Osceola chuckled quietly in agreement as the door clicked shut behind him.

"I don't envy you," he told Shiro.

"Nor do I." For the first time that morning, there was a sliver of a smile on Tamara's lips. "I will see you all in a couple of days. Take care until then."

"Yeah, you too." Shiro watched Tamara as she, too, exited through one of the doors using a worn brass key. He looked at Osceola. "Guess we better be off too. Time's a-ticking," he said with a grimace. "I got a 24-hour isolation to look forward to."

"Let me know if you need any help tying up any loose ends. I can't promise I'll handle them personally, but we'll figure things out." Osceola lifted a hand and gave Shiro a short parting wave before heading for the nearest door.

Shiro lifted his hand in a simple wave and watched Osceola disappear behind a door. He slipped his hands into his pocket and heaved out a breath. His previous smile had faded and all that remained was a pensive expression.

His first task as a paladin—and what a task it was. The irony could not be any more bitter.

And here I was, trying my best to not go out as some demonic sacrifice , Shiro thought with a wry smirk.

"A penny for your thoughts, Father Fujimoto?"

The voice came from the direction of the staircase that led to the Vatican Headquarters' main facilities. Shiro turned his head and a smirk pulled at the corner of his lips as he spotted a tuft of white fur peeking out from the top step. He turned his back towards the fluffy white dog again as he slipped his hand into his pocket. "If all you're willing to pay is a penny, my thoughts are far out of your price range." Shiro pulled out a small box from his pocket and looked at the front of it. A scowl flashed across his face as he pulled a stick of gum from the pack, wishing for a cigarette instead.

"That's a surprisingly greedy answer, Father Fujimoto. Is it really alright for a man of cloth like yourself to display such qualities?"

"More like I'd rather not indulge my thoughts to someone like you without proper compensation." Shiro chewed moodily. He glanced around a couple times to make sure no one else was around before walking over to the staircase and sparing the small dog a scratch behind the ears. "I've got a lot to do and not a lot of time to do it. Basic gist of what's going on in my head." He sat down on the first step and leaned back on one of his hands as he idly continued to pet the dog, whose tail wagged happily at the attention.

They sat in silence for a moment. Then, the dog's droopy eyes glanced up at the man beside him.

"We won't be able to meet like this for a while. Perhaps not at all, if things don't fall in your favor," the dog said, his voice not at all losing its light-hearted tone despite his morbid words.

"Don't remind me." Shiro let his other hand fall and shifted to lean forward, his elbows on his knees. "A whole week... Maybe longer. I could die in any one of those rituals."

"It seems the Vatican is becoming very fond of placing heavy loads on your shoulders. Of course, it's only natural that they have high expectations of you. You have shown them that you can be a very reliable, trusted tool for them to use." The dog's gaze lowered and he turned to watch the scenery below them. Several exorcists were walking up and down the stairs, hurriedly heading towards their destinations. From this high up, their voices didn't carry clearly. Only a faint echo of blended words mixed together drifted to their ears.

"It's not easy, being this high up, is it? You have so many people depending on you. Including that new pair of pups you decided to take in. Are you beginning to regret your choices?"

"Regret won't do me any good. It'll only hold me back." Even so, Shiro's shoulders slumped slightly. "Though I do feel kinda bad about leaving them with Nagatomo and the others these past few days. They're gonna have to, ah, puppy sit for another week or so." His voice had lowered down to a murmur. "You think if I don't mention that piece in confession, it'll still be okay?"

"Oh? Are you asking a demon for advice on this, Father? I can't say I'm an expert in these matters." The dog snickered quietly.

"There's no one else I can ask," Shiro grumbled. "Trust me, you're not my first choice when it comes to asking for advice." He reached over and scratched under the dog's chin. "This is about all you're good for."

The dog let out a huff. "I see that I am still as underappreciated as ever." He lifted his chin up sharply, the gesture affronted, but it was rather obvious by the stretch of his neck that he had only done so to allow Shiro further access to it. His tail wagged happily behind him as he silently pondered on his question. He took his time to offer a response.

"I don't think you have much to worry about. After all, don't your teachings say that, ' whoever knows the right thing to do and fails to do it, for him it is sin '?" he asked, raising a bushy eyebrow. "Even if it was a somewhat unorthodox choice, your heart remains clear, does it not?"

Shiro looked at the dog, his scratches pausing. "Huh. You're surprisingly insightful when you want to be." He picked up the dog, his hands under his front legs. "Any other bits of wisdom you care to share with me in my time of need?"

"Hmm… Perhaps I should be the one asking for compensation," the dog mused, his droopy eyes sparkling at the opportunity.

Shiro rolled his eyes. "Keep dreaming!" He held the dog against his chest and stood up. "I've got enough to worry about as it is, so don't even think of adding anything more to my plate," he warned.

Outside of letting out a small huff, the dog wisely kept quiet in response as Shiro made his way over to the nearest door and pulled a key ring from his pocket. "So, what's your plan for today then?"

"Well, seeing as I'm to tag along with you all for the next week, I suppose I should arrange for someone to be in charge in my absence... Shizuku-sensei perhaps?" the dog wondered out loud, a hint of mischief in his voice.

"I think there wouldn't be much of a difference if you're gone for a week. The Deans will get on just fine without you. Unless you're just looking for someone to drop your paperwork on." Shiro raised a brow. The dog matched his expression, not showing an ounce of shame at being caught on his ploy.

"Aren't you?"

"It's not like I have the power to snap my fingers and the paperwork be done in a second. At least I have an excuse."

"I still have to work through that time, you know," the dog pointed out, letting out a small, disgruntled huff.

"Oh, boo hoo." Shiro pushed the key in the lock and twisted it. The door swung open into a lavish, well decorated office. "Poor Chairman with literally all the free time in the world."

"Are you complaining? After taking advantage of all my good will? Perhaps I'll keep that in mind next time you come looking for a place to sleep." The dog's tone was playful, but nevertheless, he began to wiggle out of the other's arms. Shiro loosened his hold and the dog hopped down, landing with far more grace than a dog ought to have.

Shiro smirked. "You know it'll be as much of a loss to you as it is to me, you slave driver. Not the best decision you'll make." He watched as the dog padded across the small distance between where they stood and the inside of the office. The moment the dog walked past the doorway, he paused, and suddenly, he was engulfed by a pink cloud of smoke. When it dispersed, Shiro's smile widened just a bit more.

"Perhaps you're right," the Chairman said, amused. Then, in a lower voice, he added, "It will be quite boring, being all by myself, so do be careful, won't you?"

The words hung between them as the reminder of what lay ahead surfaced again. Shiro stared at the long stretch of Mephisto's back, his stomach clenching and fluttering simultaneously. The seriousness of the situation caused the heavy weight to return to his shoulders at once, and Shiro forced himself to take a deep breath to expel it.

"Well," he began in a softer tone, the teasing snark from before long gone. "I expect your pillows to be fluffed for me when I get back." Shiro's eyes wandered from the other's lean shoulders, over to the brief glimpse of skin hidden between his cape and the nape of his hair. "I won't let a little ritual be the end of me."

"Of course not," Mephisto said, and he glanced over his shoulder, this time. A familiar smile curved those devious lips. His emerald-green eyes were lit with confidence. "See you later, Shiro."

"See ya, Mephisto." Shiro smiled in return and closed the door. He changed out the key and opened the door again before stepping into the hallway of the cram school.

TRUE CROSS ACADEMY

"I'm going to be away for about a week, but I'll leave lesson plans and materials ready for two weeks' worth, just in case anything goes wrong."

"Which it won't." There was a loud huff behind Shiro, but the newly-appointed paladin did not break his stride as he made his way through the long hallway that led to his office. "If anyone can do this, it's you, Father Fujimoto. But are you sure it's wise to leave the children with even less protection?"

"It's not like I'm taking a vacation, Tsubaki-kun." Shiro grumbled. "You know this is important and the Chairman said we shouldn't pause classes. We need to keep the kids safe and occupied to keep things from going out of control here at the school." He glanced back briefly towards the tall, broad-shouldered young man, and—whether it was due to his gaze or his words—Tsubaki straightened up and nodded sternly.

"The kids are our priority."

Shiro smiled faintly. "You got it," he said. He stopped in front of the door to his office and twisted the knob open. "I'll try to stop by your office later and drop it all off then. Catch you later?"

"Yes, of course," Tsubaki said. Shiro let a quiet hum beneath his breath, his mind already deep into his lesson plans—

"Ah, that's right, Father Fujimoto."

When Shiro glanced back this time, he was surprised to see that Tsubaki's demeanor had become a lot more bashful. "I know this isn't the best timing… But we finally set our date for the wedding. We're going to have a summer wedding this coming June and—well, we'd be delighted if you could come!"

"Uh." Shiro's eyes widened behind his glasses, his face reddening a bit. "I, what? Really?" He laughed a little awkwardly. "That's great. Um, sure? As long as nothing pops up, I'll definitely be there."

Tsubaki beamed at his response. "I'll tell her you said yes! Very well!" He straightened up at once, nodding respectfully before quickly hurrying off with a flush in his cheeks and a pleased smile as he pulled out his phone in a second.

"Honey~!" Shiro could hear him saying happily into the phone.

Shiro rolled his eyes good-naturedly, an amused smirk curling at the corner of his lips, and stepped into his office, closing the door behind him. He had to hand it to Tsubaki and his fiancé. Even in these dark times, they still found happiness in each other.

Guess some stories do have a happy ending, huh…?

Unbidden, a memory of Yuri, not long before she had gotten pregnant, surfaced in his mind.

"You here to see me off?"

The image of her face, of that sweet, coy expression she liked to use on him, caused Shiro to stop still in the middle of the room and close his eyes. It wasn't the first time he thought back on that moment—even now, he wondered what would have happened if he had stopped Yuri from sneaking into Section 13 that night.

"Urgh… Can't you at least be honest with me here at the end?"

Shiro opened his eyes and stared down at his right hand, regret heavy in his gut. His fingers closed into a small, loose fist as he thought back on all the missed opportunities he had let pass by. That really had been the last time she had addressed him so warmly. After… well, it had been much too late to talk of anything but the pressing issues at hand.

He let out a heavy sigh and let his arm fall back to his side.

"Sure could use a cigarette," he muttered under his breath, and continued on to his desk. Once there, he pulled out his chair and sat down heavily, determined to focus on his work. Unexpectedly, his boot immediately bumped into something as he scooted in. Furrowing his brow, Shiro moved back his chair and looked underneath his desk, only too immediately groan.

"Not you again."

"Hi, Shiro!" The face of a young girl emerged from the shadows of the desk. Her strong little fingers latched onto the fabric of Shiro's coat as she eagerly leaned forward, her amethyst eyes glinting with determination. "What're ya doin'? Did ya miss me? Can I kiss ya? "

Shiro grabbed her hands and pried them from his coat before lifting her out from under the desk to sit her on top of it. "Working, no, and NO," he said firmly . "Jesus, Shura. What in the world are they teaching you kids in the orphanage? And how the hell did you get out!?"

Shura's entire face scrunched up at the question. "Like a stupid place like that is gonna stop me from leaving," she snapped, kicking her feet in agitation. She glared up into Shiro's eyes for a split second before catching herself. Her expression became softer as a sweet smile curled around her lips. "Sensei, can't ya help me with my homework~?" she asked in her brightest voice, her eyes hopeful.

Shiro's eyes narrowed disapprovingly. He crossed his arms over his chest, impatience etched into the lines of his body. "Ask the nuns. I told you, I'm working." He stood up and walked across the room, towards his filing cabinet. "I've got to leave tomorrow, and I won't be back for some time. I need to get things ready, so I don't have time to play with you, Shura."

"You're leavin'?!"

Shiro held back a wince. And here was another thing in his long list of regrets. Of course, like with many of his problems, this one started with Mephisto. The demon had more or less left him no choice but to take care of the young girl Shiro had picked up in one of his missions. Though reluctant, Shiro agreed to foster the girl as he waited for the orphanage to have the room to take her in. And then Shiro made the mistake of allowing Shura to become his apprentice.

It was the practical choice to make. The girl was talented and full of potential. Plus, she stuck to him like glue, no matter how much he pried her off.

Dammit, Yuri.

Yuri had her own hand in his suffering too. Her annoying persistence in being a "kind" and "considerate" person succeeded in softening him up—a little too much, clearly. He could have tried to pry Shura off harder. Now, he not only had her, but two more to take care of.

He let out a heavy sigh.

"Listen," Shiro began, studiously looking through his files to avoid meeting the gaze burning holes into his back. "I can't take you along this one either. And don't even think about following me. This mission is way too dangerous." He took out a few papers out from the cabinet, tucking them under his arm, and shut it with a firm slam.

"And anyway, I can't be taking you out so easily anymore, you know." Shiro caught a glimpse of the growing mutiny in Shura's face as he headed back to his desk, but persisted on. He picked her up unflinchingly and put her down on the floor next to his chair as he sat down. "You're under the care of the nuns at the orphanage now and you should stay there."

"No way!" The eleven-year-old girl got right back into Shiro's space as she leaned in close and grabbed his arm. "I ain't goin' back to that place! Those people don't mean nothin' to me! Yer supposed to be my teacher!" She dug her nails deeper into Shiro's sleeve, not wanting to be shaken off again. "Take me with you! I can handle it!"

Shiro jerked his arm but she didn't let go this time.

"You don't get it." He scowled. Then, he took a deep breath and tried to reason with her. "Look, Shura. This mission is not… It's not like the others," he explained. "There's a chance that I won't come back alive and if I have to worry about protecting you, I'll definitely fail. You're staying here unless you want me dead." His words were too harsh, too clear cut and dry; he tried to soften the next ones, lowering his voice to something a little gentler, though still firm. "Just listen to me already, will ya? Stop doing whatever you please. Don't you know your actions have consequences?"

His questions did not garner a response. Shura merely tightened her grip on him and glared straight up at him. Shiro could see her frustration and distrust clearly reflected across her eyes. Perhaps this wasn't his best approach; for a girl who admired him for his unrelenting strength, his words were simply too foreign to understand. There was a stubborn line forming on her lips. "No," she finally said, her accent coming out thick as her voice turned tight. "Yer lyin'. "

Shiro's eyebrow twitched. "Tch." He twisted his arm a bit in her tight grip, his patience running thin. "Why the hell would I be lying?" he said exasperatedly. He gave a quick glance towards his paperwork, at the reminder that he had to leave the cram school ready and safe in his absence, leaving plans and people in charge while he was gone. This was important now more than ever given the shaky morale they all held deep in their stomachs. He didn't have time for this.

"Shura." Shiro's voice was a thin as a tightrope he reached over with his other hand and pried Shura's fingers off his arm. He gripped both of her shoulders and looked at her straight in the eye. He could not afford to be distracted in the task ahead. "This mission is bigger than you. This mission is bigger than whatever relationship you think we have. You're not going because if you do, I could lose focus, and if I lose focus, me, my team, and many innocent people will die. So you will do what I am telling you to do and spend the next week back at the orphanage, on your best behavior, until I come back." Shiro shook her slightly when she did not immediately respond. "Do you understand me?" he pressed.

For the first time in their conversation, Shura did not meet Shiro's eyes. She looked away from him and stared down at the floor with a hesitance that Shiro was unfamiliar with seeing in her.

"Promise me."

"Huh?"

"Promise ," the young girl repeated, her tone quiet, but just as firm as Shiro's had been. "That the next one, you'll take me to it."

Shiro let out a soft breath, felt the tension drain away from his shoulders, just a little. He was glad he was able to get through to her.

"Yeah. Yeah, alright, I promise," he told her. After everything was said and done, Shiro couldn't help but to feel some sympathy for the girl. He knew she was lonely, even now that she was living with more kids her age. He'd make sure to pay her a visit when he was back. He loosened his grip on her, but not before giving one of her shoulders a tight, comforting squeeze.

But perhaps the encouragement was too much of an indulgence. Shura certainly seemed to think so, because in the next second, all of the energy Shiro was used to seeing in her returned.

"Great! It's a date then!" Shura chirped, leaning forward in lightning-quick move to press a kiss into his cheek before she bounced away just as swiftly.

"See ya later, Shiro!" the red-haired girl cried out, waving at him with one hand, while the other brought a familiar key into the keyhole of his office door. Shiro's hand immediately went to his waist as he saw the view of the cram school's library on the other side of his office door.

"Huh?! When did you—"

Shiro's hand stretched out in front of him as if to stop her, but Shura ducked away and the door slammed after her. An exhausted groan escaped Shiro's lips, the sound muffled as his face pressed into his hands.

If Yuri was still here now, she'd absolutely be laughing at him.