Chapter rewritten 25 Sep 2023

First new story of the year so i am legally allowed to do it

SHUT UP I WRITE WHAT I WANT. I'LL FINISH THE OTHER STORIES LATER inhales copium

Don't Fear the Reaper

〖Prologue〗

|| Reason 0: He Picked Zero for a Name||

"So, who is this... lost kid?" Dulio Gesualdo inquired, his lime green hair and extravagant priestly attire making him stand out like a peacock in a pigeon coop.

And standing before him in an awkwardly, shifty, uncomfortable manner yet trying their damndest to not look as uncomfortable or terrified as they actually were —at least as well as a seven year old could manage—, was an ordinary-looking boy in an ordinary boyish outfit for a kid with a bandage wrap over his brown hair; a pair of shirt and shorts. Red and white. Turn him upside down and he'd be the flag of Poland.

"Answer him, young man."

The boy stiffened as a woman in standard nun outfit spoke at him in a strict tone. To his credit, Griselda Quarta, despite being a teenager, was found to be a menacing teacher according to nine out of ten children. The tenth child was suspected to be lying as they were interviewed right as the subject of the questionnaire walked past them, but that would be a story for a different day.

The boy, trying to act as though he wasn't terrified out of his wits, glanced around the peculiar place he would soon learn was a 'cathedral.' He felt about as small as a guppy in a sea of strange adults.

"I'm… I… Can't remember Sir… I think I have amnosia."

"A Japanese kid with amnesia? Well, that's a first," Dulio muttered, rubbing his smooth chin thoughtfully. "How in the heavens did he get here?"

The boy gulped, his memory a jumbled mess of a plane and then suddenly the sea.

"I… was in a plane, but then I was at… the sea…?" he said, not really sure how things went yet that resulted in him being asked by these weird people, not having the understanding to understand that he was a survivor of an unfortunate air crash.

"Ah," Dulio nodded, already piecing together the story. He noticed Griselda's icy gaze softening slightly as sadness washed over her face. He could tell what she wanted him to do with the boy.

Leaning down to the boy's eye level, Dulio said, "Well then, let's play a game of Questions and Answers, shall we? Have you heard of it?"

The boy shook his head, looking uncertain.

"It's a very simple game. I ask, you answer. Truthfully. Then you get to ask, and I answer. Easy, right?"

The boy nodded hesitantly.

"Alright, to show you the ropes; I'll start first. How old are you?"

The boy blinked. Perhaps he was estimating a way harder question. "Um… si… six…?"

Dulio flashed a cheeky grin. "You don't sound so sure. You're not lying, aren't you?"

"N-no, I'm not!" The boy looked indignant. "I just... don't know the properly answer. Proper!"

He might be young but he was rather sound for a kid, Dulio surmised. "Okay. That's good enough. Your turn to ask."

"...Um… What question can I ask…?"

"Anything!" Dulio smiled. "Alright, my turn."

"H-huh?"

"What? You asked a question already, didn't you?"

"Th-that's not—" the boy started to protest but then seemed to realize that, yes, he had indeed asked a question earlier. Reluctantly, he accepted the rules of this newly invented game. "Fine. Your turn."

Dulio's smile grew warmer. It seemed the boy was becoming more comfortable, and his pouty expression was a sure sign that he was just a regular kid at heart. He leaned down closer and whispered conspiratorially, "But I'll let you off lightly this time, go ask again. Anything you want. And don't be shy, you can even ask us funny questions if you like."

The kid, still feeling a bit lost in this strange game but eager to participate, furrowed his brows in thought. Then, his face lit up with a mischievous grin that mirrored Dulio's earlier playfulness.

"Okay," he began, excitement bubbling in his voice. "If you were a superhero, what would your superpower be?"

Dulio burst into laughter, his lime-green hair bouncing with his amusement. "Well, that's a fantastic question! Griselda, you first."

Griselda, who often came across as stern and unyielding, surprised everyone with her response. She leaned in closer, her eyes twinkling with humor. "I'd have the power to make children finish their vegetables without any complaints."

Issei giggled at the thought of a vegetable-wielding superhero, and Dulio couldn't contain his laughter. "That's a noble power, Sister Griselda! As for me, I'd choose the power to always find the TV remote when it's lost in the couch cushions. No more searching for hours!"

Issei's laughter joined theirs, and for a moment, the strange cathedral didn't seem so intimidating anymore. It was a place filled with unusual people, but they were also people who could appreciate a good laugh.

"Round two, my friend!" Dulio announced theatrically, pointing at Sister Griselda. "But this time, it's all about her secrets, so you've got to cover those ears of yours and not play the nosy eavesdropper, capisce?"

The boy blinked, his confusion once again palpable. But he was clearly determined to make sense of this absurd game. "Huh?"

Right. Dulio forgot that slangs didn't get automatically translated by the Bilingual spell. "I mean, understand?"

"Okay." The boy obediently clapped his hands over his ears, his eyes fixed on Dulio's lips as if he were deciphering an alien language through expert lip-reading.

Turning to Griselda, Dulio unleashed his next set of inquiries with a wink. "Who's this young man?"

The sister responded with a hint of sadness in her voice, "Hyoudou Issei. It appears he doesn't remember his real name."

Quite an extreme case of amnesia, Dulio pondered. Torrid luck for him. "Beside him, any other survivors?"

Griselda shook her head solemnly, "Zero," she said, and Dulio couldn't help but mutter, "Well, that's one way to keep the party exclusive."

"How much does he remember?" Dulio continued, his curiosity piqued.

Griselda's reply was succinct, "Nothing."

"Family?"

"Died in the crash."

"Relatives…?" Dulio probed further.

"They're either deceased or don't have the minimum necessities to take him in. He doesn't have a huge family."

Dulio's expression momentarily darkened. An orphanage was hardly the ideal place for any child to end up. He knew it, Griselda knew it, and he could sense that the boy knew it too. It seemed like they were both left with no better options.

"Okay," Dulio nodded, instantly switching to his trademark friendly demeanor whenever he interacted with the children. He gestured for the boy to uncover his ears, and the boy obliged. "Alright, young man, this one's for you. Do you think Sister Griselda here is scary?"

Griselda's face transformed from restrained sorrow into thinly-veiled irritation in the blink of an eye.

"Uh... erm... n-no...?" the boy stammered, sensing a potential trap.

Dulio raised an eyebrow, his playful demeanor intact. "Hmm...? Is that really the truth? Remember, one rule for this game, no lying."

The boy gulped audibly and paled. "...S-sorta...?"

'Brave boy', Dulio couldn't help but admire the boy's bravery, but he also couldn't resist a chuckle at the way Griselda seemed to shoot daggers at him. She probably thought he was using this question to tease her about her reputation as a child-scarer. Well, she wouldn't be entirely wrong.

He signaled for the boy to take his turn.

"Why is your hair green?" the boy asked straight out.

Dulio chuckled heartily. "Hm? These?" He pointed at his vibrant green locks. "Hmm... blessed by the Lord Himself, I suppose!" He beamed, clearly enjoying the conversation. "Why, do you think it's cool?"

"It's weird," the boy replied honestly. "I've never seen people with green hair."

"That's because you've yet to see many things, young man," Dulio smiled. "Stick around me and you'll soon get to see a lot more. Are you the adventurous type?"

The boy's eyes lit up with excitement, but he quickly remembered it was his turn to ask a question. "But it's my turn now!" he exclaimed, his confidence growing as he grinned. "You asked me if your hair is cool."

"I did, didn't I?" He raised his eyebrows in acknowledgment. "Smart lad. You're getting the hang of this game quickly." With a subtle nod to Griselda, he signaled for her to return to her nunly duties, which might involve scolding misbehaving kids.

"What's your name?"

"Huh? I haven't told you?" Dulio feigned surprise, shaking his head. "How rude of me! It's a-me! Dulio!"

The boy known as Hyoudou Issei beamed a bright smile. "Like Super Mario!"

"Yes! Exactly! Except my name's Dulio. Funny, eh?" Dulio wondered if the reference would trigger any memories in the boy, but with his memory loss, it was anyone's guess.

"Now, my turn," Dulio continued. "What's your name?"

"Uh... I don't remember. The nurses told me my name is Issei?"

"Do you believe them?" Dulio inquired.

The boy looked unsure. "I don't know."

"SO," Dulio declared, leaning in, "Issei-who-isn't-yet-sure-of-his-name—Sister Griselda told me you're going to stay here. I'm gonna have to make sure you have what it takes, so you're going to take a difficult version of this game to see if you can handle it."

"Okay," the boy nodded firmly, thinking he'd been acing the game so far. "Bring it on!"

"Who-hoa there, I like your spirit kid, but here goes; do you have prior experience living with other people?"

The boy's spirit immediately wilted. Because he couldn't understand the words Dulio had just used.

Dulio laughed good-naturedly. "Haha, my bad, my bad—what I meant to say is, have you lived with other people before?"

The boy scratched his head, looking perplexed. "...? Huh? I don't know. I can't remember."

"Alright, that's perfectly acceptable. Let's mark that as zero for now," Dulio noted, making mental notes about the boy's fragmented memories. "Now, for the second question: would you like to have a lot of friends?"

The boy's eyes lit up, his face brightening with enthusiasm. "Yes!"

Dulio smiled warmly. "That's the spirit! Now, how many friends do you have?"

The boy started to answer immediately but then seemed to wrestle with his thoughts before finally responding, "...? Zero? I guess?"

Dulio nodded reassuringly. "We all start at zero, don't worry about it. Now, for the third question: How many friends would you like to make?"

The boy's eyes sparkled with hope. "A lot more than zero!"

"Great answer!" Dulio clapped his hands once in approval. "Now, for the second to last question: How many times have you ever washed the dishes, mopped the floor, swept the broom, or tidied your bed?"

The boy looked downright horrified. "Z-zero… sir."

"And that's perfectly a-okay!" the priest cheered, instantly psyching the boy right up. "All that matters in this game is that you answer it honestly, which you did. You're crushing this game so far, kid."

The boy couldn't help but smile, his excitement welling up as he pumped his fist in celebration. "Alright!"

"Alright, now, brace yourself for the final question. This one's a toughie, so you'll need to think carefully before you answer, capisce?"

"Okay," the boy nodded earnestly, leaning in. "...Was that the last question?"

"No, no," Dulio laughed, "this is; would you like a new name?"

〖Reason 1〗

||He Can't See in Black and White||

In the annals of nomenclature, young Zero had always believed he could have done better. Regret had a funny way of sneaking up on you, and in his case, it manifested as a name he'd chosen in a moment of childish impulse. 'Zero' — it sounded cool to a six-year-old, mainly because it had that enigmatic letter 'z' tucked right in. It was a frequent flyer during his "interview" rounds, that string of questions he'd faced time and again.

But fast forward four years, and Zero couldn't help but chuckle at the absurdity and irony of his chosen name. He'd lost count of how many times he'd nagged Dulio, wondering why on Earth the priest hadn't acted like a responsible adult and guided him toward a more sensible moniker. Alas, he'd stuck with 'Zero' for far too long.

Griselda, the strict but well-meaning nun, had eventually intervened and suggested a name change. She had tried to persuade him to consider alternatives shortly after he'd picked 'Zero.' But as any stubborn six-year-old would, he had clung to the name he believed to be the epitome of coolness. It was only as he grew up and matured that he finally realized the impracticality of his choice, much to Griselda's satisfaction.

His new name wasn't 'Issei.' He had decided, at a young age, to sever all ties to his past life. Whatever existence he'd known as Hyoudou Issei, he had buried it so deeply that he was well on his way to forgetting it entirely. Sentimentality had no place in his new life.

So, what had he chosen? For a ten-year-old boy with an unrelenting obsession for those sleek, red cars that occasionally graced the streets of Rome, the choice was clear: Enzo. Sure, it still had that coveted 'z,' but the main draw was the shared surname with the founder of the famed Ferrari car manufacturer. Young Enzo believed, quite naively, that having the same last name as Ferrari's creator would surely guarantee him a fancy car for his birthday.

The reality check came swiftly on his eleventh birthday, a crushing disappointment that served as a harsh reminder that life didn't always adhere to childhood fantasies.

It wasn't until his teenage years that the true meaning of his chosen name revealed itself: 'uncertainty.' The irony was not lost on him.

Growing up in the orphanage was an adventure, to say the least. It was a place of both challenges and delights, a place where he had to relearn things he had long forgotten. The Italian language, with its myriad of intonations and dialects, was an insurmountable puzzle. Were it not for Griselda's unwavering guidance, young Enzo might have flunked every language test thrown his way. Language had never been his forte, and he often wondered if it was the primary reason potential adoptive parents had passed him over.

But in the end, perhaps it was all for the best. Enzo had grown into a resilient young man, navigating the twists and turns of life with the wisdom of someone who had experienced more than his fair share of ups and downs.

Rubbing his head, the now twenty-one-year-old Enzo couldn't help but ponder how he'd gone from being a lost Japanese orphan to embracing the unpaid gig of a supernatural janitor—an Exorcist. It was a career path that could rival any quirky career choice you'd find on a late-night infomercial. Perhaps it all started when he made the dubious decision to ask Dulio if he could be his apprentice after learning about the existence of otherworldly beings. Devils, vampires, demons, and werewolves—God hadn't made them, but they were here anyway, probably thinking they were the cool kids on the cosmic block.

Indeed, that had to be the turning point. Either that or the moment they discovered his unique talent, which led to his nickname 'Zero.' It was ironic, sure, and it also conveniently matched the level of mystery shrouding his abilities.

As 'Zero,' he now found himself on the prowl in the moonlit streets of Tuscany, a realm where the supernatural skulked in the shadows.

Tonight, it was a devil in the spotlight, a devil with a taste for nun-napping, following a rather unsettling pattern. Dulio had entrusted him and Griselda with the mission, with Griselda playing the role of the reluctant bait.

It wouldn't work. It was a bet he'd made with another Exorcist, someone who treated wagers involving the unholy like a day at the races. Enzo was convinced that even if Griselda transformed herself into the most convincing nun this side of Vatican City, her Holy Power could rival the sun itself, scaring off any devil within a five-mile radius. He couldn't help but recall how he, too, would break into a cold sweat when Griselda approached, although that was mainly because she had a knack for "speaking" with him—usually accompanied by stern words. She had always been tougher on him than the other kids, but now that he was older, he understood why.

In his younger years, he was a whirlwind of chaos, causing a ruckus wherever he went. As a teenager, he was a whirlwind of chaos under the mentorship of Dulio Gesualdo, an ace Exorcist who played by his own rules, treating the world as his personal playground. Dulio was kind, yes, but far from the poster boy for good behavior that most parents would approve of. While other kids aspired to be like Batman, Enzo had chosen Dulio as his unlikely role model, much to the amusement of anyone familiar with their dynamic.

As he smirked, reveling in the parallels between his nighttime escapades and the fictional capers of Batman, Zero gracefully bounded from one rooftop to another, a shadow in the night. Meanwhile, Griselda prowled the streets below, her destination a secluded, dimly lit alley near a nearby monastery, rumored to be the paranormal hotspot of the city.

Zero settled into his makeshift hideout, draped in a rag like an undercover superhero minus the fancy gadgets. He lacked cloaking devices and magic spells to blend seamlessly into the night, but his low-effort disguise had never let him down—especially in the cover of darkness.

And so, he waited—motionless, a statue with an itch for action, battling not only the supernatural but also the creeping boredom that toyed with the idea of him introducing his face to the less-than-friendly embrace of the asphalt below.

'This 'mission' is whack,' Enzo grumbled inwardly, his thoughts betraying his true feelings. No one had told him he couldn't complain about it. Sure, he was an Exorcist, but even they had their limits. He could think of a hundred other things he'd rather be doing—things that would bring him enjoyment or, better yet, money. After all, 'thanks' and 'blessings' weren't going to fill his stomach or satisfy his earthly desires.

As he silently brooded, he couldn't help but wonder what Griselda was up to. And sure enough, there she was, kneeling over a pile of boxes, still praying at the same darn spot for the last hour.

Her unwavering dedication to the act was admirable, if not slightly unsettling. She might have been praying for the well-being of those lost nuns, but Enzo, despite his upbringing in a Catholic environment, had always believed that a pair of hands working could accomplish more than a thousand hands clasped in prayer. But he supposed there wasn't much else she could do in that moment.

Maybe he should start praying too, he mused. Not necessarily for those nuns, but for anything to happen—something to break the monotony. He yearned for a divine intervention to put an end to this failed stakeout, so he could finally return home and escape the damp, uncomfortable summer night where it was neither hot nor cold, lurking over a praying nun like a weirdo.

Still, he wasn't about to be the one to abort the mission. The last thing he wanted was an hour of ear-chewing from Griselda.

After what felt like an eternity, Griselda rose to her feet, straightened her dark attire, adjusted her nun's veil, and turned to exit the alleyway without sparing him a glance. That was the signal—the mission was still a go. Begrudgingly, Enzo reconsidered his earlier thoughts of leaping off the ledge. At worst, he'd break a bone or two, but on the flip side, that might secure him a month or two of avoiding the usual exorcism labor.

However, just as they were moving to another dark alleyway, the roof beneath him shook and gave way, as the monastery exploded in a blaze of fiery chaos.

Badia Fiorentina burned all too well despite being mostly built of bricks. Summer had no intention of easing the situation either. Lint called it a hot bastard of a summer. The heavens seemed too stingy to bestow even a drop of rain, and she wasn't wrong. Dust and smoke swiftly spiraled into the night sky as the flames danced, hungrily consuming the belltower. The silence of the night dissolved into a crescendo of chaos as citizens spilled out of their homes, a diverse mix of reactions. Some fled, their panicked screams cutting through the air, while others drew closer, smartphones held high to capture footage of the blazing spectacle, their own screams echoing as they documented the inferno.

Zero gracefully descended from the collapsing building, executing a well-practiced roll to break his fall before darting toward Griselda. The explosion had been close, and its shockwave had knocked her off her feet. He didn't intend to extend a helping hand—she wouldn't need it, and he wouldn't offer it. Instead, he sprinted toward her because a more pressing matter had hijacked their original mission.

Griselda wasted no time recovering. With an efficient motion, she tore away the lower part of her nun's habit with a single, powerful swipe of her bare hand.

"I forgot you have legs underneath all that. I mean—" Zero's attempt to amend his statement fell flat, and her silent glare spoke volumes. Clearly, she was not in the mood for commentary.

As they raced together toward the burning monastery, they both noticed something awry. The bluish-green hue of the roaring flames was anything but natural. Reaching a clearing, they found a massive crowd had already gathered at a safe distance from the conflagration, their expressions a mixture of dread and horror. Sirens wailed in the background as firetrucks and ambulances rushed to the scene, adding to the cacophony.

"What's the plan?" Zero pulled his mask up to cover his mouth. His dark attire wasn't entirely out of place, but his unmistakable Japanese features would make him stand out in the crowd.

"The obvious. We help."

Zero inwardly cringed at hearing that word. He couldn't help but wish people were more self-sufficient, but reality rarely met his expectations. He was no exception to this dependency, of course, but that didn't mean he couldn't loathe it.

"Give me cover."

With a nod, he retrieved a small, circular item from his belt and hurled it to the ground. A smokescreen erupted, shrouding them in its murky embrace.

"Keep an eye on anyone who makes it out of here. The Devil might have a hand in this. We'll meet up in the alleyway," Griselda ordered, casting a series of spells on herself, including ones that boosted her resistance to fire. With swift determination, she plunged into the three-story building, using the smokescreen as her cover.

Zero emitted a gruff snort as he emerged from the dissipating smoke. He wasn't the least bit concerned about her safety, but it grated on him that he couldn't accompany her into the inferno, lest he roast himself alive or choke on the acrid smoke. It would be a pleasant surprise if she could bestow her protective spells upon him, but he knew well that he lacked the knack for magic.

However, if there was one skill he had mastered, it was scaling walls. Pure agility, strength, and a pinch of luck. Within mere seconds, he had ascended the nearby building that was slightly damaged from the explosion.

Waiting provided him with ample time—perhaps too much—as he scrutinized the unfolding situation. Who could be responsible for this? His mind immediately jumped to a certain terrorist organization, the Khaos Brigade or whatever they called themselves. They had been the primary culprits behind the nunnappings. But it wouldn't be outlandish for a single rogue devil to orchestrate such a heinous act, rather than an organized group. Regardless, orchestrating an explosion of a monastery in a densely populated region of Italy—the heartland of Catholicism—was a chilling display of audacity.

They were calculated, they were stealthy, and, most despicably, they had no qualms about targeting innocent children.

Utterly irredeemable scum.

As the crowd outside continued to swell, and more law enforcement personnel arrived to maintain order, Zero patrolled the perimeter of the conflagration. He moved from rooftop to rooftop with the ease of a seasoned acrobat, utilizing his tools when necessary and employing the environment to hasten his journey. While he might not have excelled in academics, none could outpace him when it came to rooftop traversing. Despite the searing heat, there were few experiences in life that matched the simple pleasure of the night breeze against his skin.

Well, maybe spotting a solitary devil in the act came close.

'Why hello there…' he hummed, a grin forming as he detected the telltale demonic essence radiating from the cloaked devil. Or, as the clergy would describe them, 'vile spawn of Hell.' In fairness, the ones he'd dealt with had all been particularly unpleasant.

Two satiny ebony wings suddenly unfurled from the devil's back, propelling her into the air. Zero didn't hesitate. He leaped off the rooftop and landed squarely on their back, catching them—her, as the startled feminine shriek suggested—by surprise. As they plummeted toward the ground, he deftly hurled and embedded a light-infused dagger through her shoulder.

"Gr—ah!" she cried out, pain exploding through her as her shoulder took the brunt of the impact. The agony had barely registered before a light-blade dagger plunged into the ground right in front of her eye.

"Get... Get off me! Ugh—!" she sputtered, struggling beneath his weight.

Zero removed his glove, ensuring it remained untainted by what he considered 'vile' blood, and pressed his thumb into her wound, eliciting an agonized scream from her throat. When he withdrew his thumb, she slumped, her breathing labored, appearing worse for wear. She must have been caught in the explosion, he surmised.

"Ever heard of a game called Questions and Answers?" Zero asked, his tone deceptively casual. "It's quite simple. I suggest you participate, as my partner isn't as chatty as I am, and she'll be rather annoyed if you turn out to be the one behind the monastery explosion."

"It...that... wasn't my doing..." she panted, turning her head to glance at her captor. However, all she could discern was a hooded figure with a partially obscured face and the lapel of a dark outfit. "Let me go... I had nothing to do with this... You won't regret it."

"Yeah, well, you're a Devil, so that's a hard pass," he responded offhandedly, still straddling her back with his legs. While any Devil could have easily overpowered him or at least put up a struggle, this one seemed oddly complacent, choosing to lie there.

"Then perish," she hissed, summoning a violent mass of black Demonic Energy from the air in front of him. It surged toward his face, shrouding everything in darkness for a moment—until the malevolent energy dissipated upon contact with his nose.

"Nice try gattina."

Her eyes widened as she realized the identity of her captor. "You're the Reaper...!"

"Reaper? Oh, right, that's me," he chuckled ominously, while the female Devil remained utterly bewildered. "If I'm not mistaken, that was the Power of Destruction you blasted at me. Which means..." With a swift movement, he pulled down her hood, revealing her pretty face and lustrous crimson hair — Gremory's hair.

"Signorina Gremory. Fancy beating you here."

Her voice strained by pain, she retorted, "Wait... I can explain. The abbey... It wasn't me."

"Not so confident now that your bag of tricks failed, huh?" Zero quipped, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"Y-you've got it all wrong… I was… hoping it would get you off of me…" Each word seemed to cost her, and crimson splotches of blood marked her presence on the cobblestone street. "Please… I… had no hand in this… Believe me…"

Zero's eyebrow arched skeptically. "Ah, the classic 'I tried to decapitate you to get some space' move,"

"I told you," She found a hint of defiance within her, a glimmer of spirit despite her injuries, "It was more of an incentive for you to move. Nrgh— I… I'm wounded…"

Zero stated the obvious with a deadpan expression. "Well, I did stab you."

Her coughs subsided, and she paled further. Against his better judgment, he began to entertain the possibility that she might be telling the truth. The Gremory Family's name was not commonly associated with terrorism in these parts. They were well known around the Vatican and its communities and institutions, but because of the rumors that they were hunted by other Devils.

Those were merely unconfirmed rumors, however, and he'd be an idiot to unrestrain her.

"Please…" she pleaded, this time more desperate. "I… I can't die yet…"

He grunted as an internal struggle played out, but eventually, he stood up and roughly grasped her arms. She whimpered, her strength failing her as he forced her onto her feet, preventing her from collapsing completely.

Heaved to her feet, she swayed unsteadily, supported only by Zero's iron grip. His gaze flicked to the telltale crimson stains on her once-pristine white shirt. "You're bleeding. Got into a scrap, did you?"

"More or less…" she whispered, her smirk growing despite the pain, as if irked by his skepticism. "Hah… haha… I don't appear capable of walking on my own."

"I can drag you around like a sack of bricks."

Her face paled further at the mental image. "...P…Please don't… I'd rather not endure that level of humiliation…"

Still had some strength left to joke around her captor? He couldn't lie, this captive of his was quite endearing. Captivating looks as well. A shame she was a Devil.

"This is going to be pointless if you die on the road."

"I won't," she persisted. "I'll… manage… I just need a quick rest…"

"Fancy a rose-scented bath while you're at it?"

She managed a weak chuckle. "That would be quite the treat…"

Alright. Bad or not, this Devil was at least alright in his book as an individual. For years, he had secretly hoped to encounter a Devil who could defy the teachings he had received, someone who could prove that not all Devils were hellbent on humanity's destruction. After all, humans seemed perfectly adept at ruining themselves without any supernatural assistance.

However, he couldn't ignore the task at hand. His partner, Griselda, would be joining them soon, and she had the means to extract the truth from the Devil. Until then, Zero would keep a watchful eye on their captive. He knew that Rias Gremory must be the youngest in her family, as it hadn't taken much effort to debilitate her magical capabilities.

"This might hurt a bit," With a hint of warning, he retrieved another tool from his belt and fired a grappling hook from a hand crossbow. In an instant, they were lifted off the ground, soaring up to the rooftop.

Rias Gremory would have likely screamed if not for her injuries, but in that moment, she wanted to.

Break

"You sound young," Rias observed, her voice tinged with curiosity.

"I am young," Zero affirmed matter-of-factly.

"I'm surprised someone as young as you would bear the ominous title of the Reaper..."

"Uh-huh," no response whatsoever. It seemed his pride wasn't easily stroked. "Who came up with that name anyway? And why?"

Rias smiled weakly, despite the pain coursing through her. "Do you hate it?"

"No, I just don't see the correlation."

"Rumors tend to spread like wildfire—nrgh—!" Rias winced as pain shot through her, momentarily interrupting her thought. The alcohol-soaked bandages stung as they made contact with her wound, causing her to grip the nearby hand towel and bite down hard to suppress her screaming.

It had been forever since Rias last received non-magical treatment. The fiery pain kept her from breathing normally, and her crimson locks clung to her sweat-slicked face. She'd never felt this weak before, and while it served as a reminder to be more cautious, it was undeniably frustrating.

I'd say sorry for stabbing you," Zero began as he deftly wrapped a bandage around her shoulder, eliciting a meek whimper out of her. He continued, "but that'd be lying. Circumstances called for it, and I do not regret the actions I've taken."

Rias nodded in understanding, her voice weak but sincere. "I appreciate your honesty… even if it comes in the form of a blade."

Zero chuckled softly, a touch of dark humor in his tone. "First time anyone thanked me for stabbing them."

"For treating me," she corrected herself, wincing slightly as she moved her head too quickly to retort.

Zero's laughter lingered in the air like a ghost, a rare glimpse of humanity in the darkness of their situation. It wasn't unusual for him to maintain a sardonic sense of humor, even when dealing with prisoners. Finding humor in the bleakest of moments was his way of coping with the harsh realities of his life. Liked to see them go out with a smile. Too much misery in this world and not enough joy to go around.

At that moment, Rias found herself half-naked, her shirt removed to facilitate the bandaging of her shoulder wound. Dressing herself was a painful ordeal with limited mobility in her right arm.

"...A little help… Or do you prefer to debase your captives like this?" Rias requested, her tone a blend of vulnerability and jest.

"Much as I'd want that, it does conflict with a few morals I have left; so no," Zero replied with a hint of gallantry, proceeding to assist her with dressing without making a fuss.

"For an agent of the Catholic faith, I'm surprised to meet one that can keep their composure around a half-naked lady."

"Oh you've no idea how bad it is for me," Enzo muttered, and Rias shuddered at the implications. "I'm joking~ sorry. That was a horrible joke. Got possessed by Freed for a bit there…"

"Not your first time seeing a lady's skin, I assume."

Enzo's response was delivered with a dry wit. "Nope," he replied, his gaze playfully focused on her attire. "Nice bra. Purple. I like purple. Very daring."

Rias finally smirked at his audacity. "You're rather… openly sinful for an Exorcist."

"Murder is a sin, but I received blessings for doing it," he pointed out.

"Did they bless you for debauchery as well?"

"No," Enzo chuckled again, his irreverence clear in his response. "They're not all saints either, and they make excuses all the time. So why can't I cut myself some slack when I'm with women? They didn't seem to mind."

Rias raised an eyebrow, her interest piqued. "You don't sound like your average Exorcist. Most of them are deeply entrenched in their faith and beliefs."

Enzo shrugged, a hint of weariness in his eyes. "I've seen enough of the world to realize that blind faith isn't always a virtue. It can be a tool for manipulation. So, I keep my distance from that aspect of the Church."

Rias nodded thoughtfully. "That's surprisingly pragmatic of you."

"They tolerate me as I tolerate them. They don't get to decide my morals when theirs aren't spick-and-span either. And using religion as a tool to control the masses… Yeah. That ain't my style."

"And yet you turn a blind eye."

"It's my home, and I got paid for it," Zero replied, his voice carrying a hint of resignation. "Those that cling to old traditions are often terrified with the very idea of change itself," he quoted Dulio word for word, recalling a confrontation where he had challenged the Vatican about hiding child molestation cases. "And those in positions of power… well, preventing change is what they want in the first place."

Rias studied him, sensing an undercurrent of discontent beneath his casual demeanor. "And so you accept to live in a world like that?"

"Tolerate it," he corrected, his voice taking on a growl that hinted at his inner turmoil. "Begrudgingly."

The intensity in his last word intrigued Rias. It seemed like he could be a potential ally in her endeavors. She realized that to navigate this dangerous situation, she needed to gain his trust.

"So," he went on, taking a seat at a stack of cement bags nearby. "You said you wanted to stop this? That means you know about this plan huh?"

Rias nodded, her expression a flat blend of frustration. "Yes, I do. If I had arrived here sooner, perhaps it might have been possible to prevent it, but..." She sighed, her voice trailing off. "It's not exactly a walk in the park to sneak into their operations."

"Well, that's kind of the whole point of having patrols," he quipped. Despite the grim circumstances, Rias couldn't help but appreciate his easygoing nature. She silently thanked her lucky stars that it was Zero who had discovered her and not Griselda. Were she to meet Griselda, she might have been deader than dead, or wishing she was dead.

"And yet your building burns," Rias bit back. Her remark seemed to have struck a chord with Zero, eliciting a flicker of concern in his eyes. It wasn't a full-blown offense, but it hinted at something deeper.

"Indeed it does," Zero grumbled, his gaze shifting toward the still-burning building, which was now surrounded by fire trucks struggling to douse the unnatural flames. "What did your associates do this time, eh?"

Rias clenched her jaw, her frustration evident. "They are not my associates," she snapped back. "Do you consider extremists your own as well, simply because they are human?"

That pushed a button. Either she was a great actress or she simply hated those that weren't her people. "Fair point, I concede. Tell me who they are then. Seems to be a common enemy."

"Khaos Brigade," she replied, getting a little bit hazier as the flames began to blur. Clutching her head, she continued quieter than before, "...You ought to hear about them."

"I've heard of them plenty alright. Got any proof that it's them?"

Rias hesitated for a moment, her beryl-hued eyes locked onto Zero's. "I... you won't believe me."

"Try me."

Silence hung between them for a moment as Rias weighed her options. Her gaze remained fixed on Zero, who was mostly obscured by his hood and cloth mask, revealing only his russet brown eyes and a hint of his brown bangs.

Zero leaned back, a slight shrug beneath his cloak. "Gut feeling, I guess," he replied, his tone nonchalant. "Or maybe it's because you're my prisoner, and I figure you'll tell me anything you think I'd want to hear. Or, you know, maybe because you're cute."

It drew a giggle out of her. Though it halted as it was painful for her to even laugh. "Ah… haha… a charmer, aren't you. How many times have you said that line to the other Devils?"

Zero's casual demeanor returned, and he leaned back comfortably, his cloak draping around him. "Not plenty," he admitted. "The ones I tend to face aren't much for conversation. The last one I hunted down was a four-legged abomination with lasers firing out of her nipples. Now, I'm all for variety, but a mammoth? That's a bit too much."

"You're giving me a lot of information for an enemy," Rias giggled. "Is that really wise?"

"Hm? So you're an enemy?"

Rias felt her hackles raised and her stomach flipped. If not from the sudden drop of his happy-go-lucky tune, it was from the way he was staring at her. His eyes were smiling, and she could see the thin smirk forming under his mask, but it was the uncanniness of his change of demeanor that raised all alarms in her psyche. This man had slain enough Devils to gain him that reputation. Plenty of them qualified as High-Class if not for their caste. There was a reason this man in black and red outfit and the unmistakable crimson cross of the Templar Order was rightly dreaded.

His friendliness hid a viper that could struck her down at any time.

She realized the blunder she had made, and hoped her realization didn't come late.

"N-no," she stammered once she had collected her scattered thoughts. He was not the type of person she should antagonize or be defiant towards. She sensed he wouldn't be as 'friendly' once she crossed a certain line he set. "No… I'm not."

Zero hummed, studying her closely. Satisfied that his attempt at imitating Griselda's intimidation tactics had worked as intended, he returned to his casual tone. "You've been very lucky today," he remarked. "Don't push it. You won't know when your luck will run out until it does."

'Right back at you…' she wanted to say, but locked it shut inside the closet of her mind for now. So far, Zero had displayed just the right mix of characteristics, making it hard to predict his next move. He was charming, friendly, and even a bit awkward. But underneath that exterior lay a formidable individual who should not be underestimated.

But wouldn't he make just the right ally…? Respected by his peers, 'tolerated' by his superiors, feared by his enemies… Someone who saw the world in gray instead of the absolute white and black as most of them tended to do. If she could convince him… if she could bring the right argument… she might be able to sway his mind, or at least rock his faith with the church.

As they sat there in an uneasy silence, Rias couldn't shake the feeling that this encounter would not be their last. Whether as her jailer or as part of her tribunal, their paths would likely cross again. She needed to make sure he would come to see her, and that meant planting the right seeds of persuasion.

No harm in trying. "...H-hey…"

"Hm? Yeah. Sup."

"Have you heard about the 'Holy Sword Project'?"

To be continued…

Ripped straight out from The Grand Budapest Movie. Excellent movie all around and everyone should see it at least once in their life, because then you'd want to watch it again

SO. 'Issei' is older. As is Rias. They both got an upgrade in maturity as they did in age. No, I'm not yet sure yet if it's gonna be an IsseixRias pairing as I like to let the story write for itself first before setting any ship to sail off the port. 'Issei' is also a little bit unhinged. You'd be too if your best friend was Freed Sellzen. What sane parents would pick him up for adoption?

And you know me, I hate describing clothes in details; so just google AC Rogue outfit and there you have 'Issei's outfit.

Yes, there will be Lint Sellzen in it, and of course Irina and Xenovia, and domi-nun-momi Griselda sprinkled about. Since DxD didn't really have a proper art for her instead of that one in her wiki, i am once again ripping a face out of Nasuverse and slap a poster of Artoria Lancer's face on her. Any objections? No? Good. end of discussion

Yes, it's AU. Technically, all fics are AU anyway otherwise it'd just be a carbon copy of the original material. Rias don't have her usual starter party in this story. by starter i mean Kiba, Akeno, and Koneko. She'll have to 'catch' them one by one.

No, 'Issei' won't be a Devil or an Angel or anything. He'll be a human and a human he shall stay until he die.

Lastly, i'm considering making a discord 'fan' server, where you can read all the shit i didn't post anywhere on the internet and are just collecting dust there in the google drive folder, but i'm a bit eeehh on the idea. Lmk anyway if you'd like that. There's probably 10-12 stories that are buried in that folder

And i do appreciate ideas and inputs, and maybe it'd be nice to chat with you plebs, but idk.

Anyway bye