NMHA Ch. 40 - Echoes
A/N - Happy new near, y'all. I sort of fell into a holiday slump, which sucks since I've got another half-chapter's worth of writing, but I don't feel comfortable with the positioning in the story quite yet. So, this is more or less starting from scratch... about a week after I posted the last chapter. It ain't easy keeping a consistent schedule on something like this, that's for sure.
That being said, here's another chapter, a bit of an interlude following the events of the prior mini-arc. Hopefully, it's well-received.
It's more focused on some other characters, Diodora in particular.
These next few chapters will be more focused on continued setup, but it should be coming to an end soon.
That also being said, long wait is long. Sorry Tempura Wizard is sorry. This isn't beta'd, and I'm not wholly comfortable with it, but it needs to get out so I can keep putting out more chapters. So, here you go.
"How are you two feeling?"
The question, innocent enough, was met with an uncomfortable silence as the cadre who asked it stared at the two lights of his very long life, soaking them in lest they be snuffed out like they nearly were. The older of the two frowned, looking down with hands clasped together to her chest as if in prayer while the younger looked away, conflict written clearly on her face.
"It is... difficult, to come to terms with everything," Shuri spoke, hesitantly. "It is one thing to have it happen, and another to survive it. I still wonder if it was only a dream."
"I wish it was," Baraqiel agreed, his gaze shifting to his daughter. "What about you, Akeno?"
Akeno shifted, hands bunching around her lap. "Are they gonna come after us here, too?"
"What?" The cadre blinked, shaking his head. "No, of course not. The Himejimas only attacked you two because I wasn't there. Now that you're in Grigori territory, we'd declare war if they so much as lifted a hand toward you."
She didn't meet her father's gaze, instead narrowing her eyes and turning to the wall. "Then shouldn't we be already? They deserve it."
Shuri stepped in, reaching over to place a hand on her daughter's shoulder. "Akeno, please don't say that. As... disturbing as it was, they're still our relatives, and they were rightfully punished."
"They nearly killed us, okaa-san!" the nephilim protested, shaking the hand off and glaring at her mother. "They... they're not family. Not after that!"
"Settle down, dear, I get it. I wouldn't want to be related to them either, after what happened." Baraqiel tilted his head once, before nodding once. His eyes shifted to Shuri, who looked back, before nodding once.
"I... suppose I can understand that." The Japanese beauty looked down again. "But even so, they're family."
"Even after they set out to kill you because they thought I'd seduced you into marrying me?"
"You still consider the Angels of Heaven to be family, do you not?"
"By blood, perhaps. But certainly not family like you and Akeno are to me." Baraqiel let out a huff of laughter. "Or the Grigori, for that matter. Perhaps it is because I am used to the idea, but Heaven and I are related by who our Father was. No more, no less."
Akeno watched them talk, remaining silent until her father had finished before cutting in. "So you're just gonna let them go, just like that?"
"I already stopped Suou for good, alongside his direct subordinates." The cadre sighed. "I made a show of it, too. As much as I would like to make the whole family suffer for threatening you both... I won't. What's the point?"
"To make sure that they can't hurt us again!"
"They won't," Akeno's father emphasized, brows drawing closer to each other. "Not here and not now, now that I know they're out to get you both."
"Then do you mean to keep us here?" Shuri asked, tilting her head.
"Of course not. Only if you both want to stay. Otherwise we'll work something else out."
"Like you did before we were attacked?" the child muttered, turning away again.
"Akeno!"
Shuri shifted to verbally chastise her daughter, but Baraqiel set a hand on her shoulder, stopping her in place.
They shared a look, then the cadre's wife gave a single nod, closing her eyes and letting Baraqiel speak.
"...Is that why you've been thinking about whether or not to accept Koneko-chan's offer?" he guessed.
Akeno turned back, eyes wide. "How did you...?"
"I have my ways," the cadre smiled briefly before leaning in, resting his elbows on his knees, clasping his fingers together. "You're my daughter. How could I not see how the thought intrigued you?"
The pre-adolescent girl didn't speak again, and after more silence Baraqiel chose to speak again.
"What is it about the offer that's so interesting?"
Akeno remained silent, so her father tried another question.
"Is it because I wasn't there before them?"
She turned away, and Baraqiel's heart sank.
"Maybe it is," Akeno muttered. "If it wasn't for them..."
He let out a low sigh.
"That was my mistake, and I will not turn away from that. I failed to see just how invested your and Shuri's human relatives were in seeing you two gone." The cadre pushed himself off his chair, before immediately lowering himself to his knees and bowing on the ground, forehead briefly touching his fingers as he assumed a dogeza.
"I'm grateful for the Devils that saved you two, for the one that warned Azazel and I of the attack, and I am sorry that I had not arrived sooner. If I had known before, I never would have left."
"Is that why you didn't shut the idea down outright when the nekomata offered... Peerageship, to Akeno?" Shuri guessed.
"I am not perfect despite my origins," Baraqiel admitted, closing his eyes. "The events of last night are evident of such. Your lives were nearly lost because of my carelessness, so the only thing I can offer here and now is advice and opinion."
A beat passed.
"So... you're saying you won't care if I go?" his daughter asked, almost hesitantly.
The cadre grit his teeth. "Of course I will. I'll be giving my daughter up to Devils, our enemies since time immemorial. But if that is truly her wish... then who am I, to deny her the path she chooses?"
More silence.
"All I ask," he finished, quietly, "is that I am still allowed to be part of my daughter's life, despite my most grave mistake."
A hand came to rest on his shoulder, gently pulling him upward into his wife's awaiting arms.
Baraqiel smiled briefly, but his eyes locked onto his daughter's, and the way her only motion was to glance between him and her mother.
He could almost see the indecision warring in Akeno's gaze, the way she saw Shuri's acceptance regardless of his failure.
So instead of saying anything more, he just gave her a single, slow, understanding nod.
Akeno stood, and briskly walked back into the bedroom, closing the door behind her with perhaps a bit more force than was necessary.
He could understand that too.
"So, you said that you met the Devil who warned you about my family while we were asleep?" Shuri whispered in his ear.
"I didn't want to wake you two after what happened," he confirmed, voice also in a whisper.
"And you thought that speaking with one of those who saved us wouldn't be reason enough?"
He knew she'd have wanted to meet Luna, but perhaps giving them more rest was a selfish urge. "I... suppose that would be another mistake on my part."
"You sure did make a mess for yourself," she agreed, giggling softly. "I would say you deserve some punishment, ufufufufu~"
Those words sent a thrill down the cadre's spine, but even so, he had to ask. "...Are you sure?"
Her arms tightened around him, and he recognized them now seeking instead of granting.
"...I wouldn't say such a thing if I wasn't willing, now would I?"
She wouldn't, Baraqiel knew.
If that was what his wife wanted, though, he'd oblige.
It was the least he could do, to try and make things right.
The crackling of a fireplace resounded over the din of the forest, the flames dancing wildly in the night sky as their creator leaned back against a tree, one arm folded over a raised knee.
Kuroka had since discarded her yukata, as it had gotten torn to pieces in the battle against those Onmyoji, leaving her with barely her modesty by the time those Fallen Angels had showed up. Baraqiel and Azazel, if she remembered correctly?
That was fine; she'd been able to procure some clothes from the remains of the household, with the mother's blessing.
It had also given Kuroka time to speak with her sister face-to-face, and what a surprise that was, that they'd end up fighting to save a mother and daughter from a supernatural lynch mob.
"Ne, Shirone. Did you really have to grow up so fast without me?"
The only answer she got were the cicadas chirping in the surrounding area.
Then...
"Mh. I already told you. I had to, to survive."
Kuroka shifted her head, noting the way Shirone's feline ears flicked when the older sister's eyes landed on the younger. The white-haired Nekoshou was also leaned up against a tree, the same one as her sister.
Despite the little time that passed since the battle they took part in, neither appeared beaten up at all, aside from ruffled hair.
Senjutsu's healing potential was incredible due to the act of channeling pure life energy, yet even that couldn't instantly mend wounds. Kuroka wouldn't have been able to patch both herself and her sister in the time frame that had passed.
No, what really took Kuroka back was that she hadn't healed Shirone at all.
Her sister had healed herself, an act of Senjutsu channeling that even an experienced practitioner would struggle with.
The older sister let out a long sigh. "This... wasn't quite how I was hoping we'd meet up again."
"I wasn't expecting that we would for years," the younger admitted.
"But we would eventually, is that it?"
"Mh. Perhaps not under good circumstances, but we would."
"Is that why you said you'd stop me if I tried taking you back from the Gremory girl?"
"I found a new family." Shirone shrugged, allowing the fireplace to fill the silence before she spoke again. "I think you have too. Right?"
"It's... complicated."
"I have all night."
Kuroka was quiet.
The flames beckoned, as she stared into their depths.
She spoke.
"She'd all but killed you, you know. Dead to the world, for six long years."
"But I'm back."
"Maybe. But you're not the same sister I knew."
"You're not the same sister I knew either."
Kuroka grit her teeth.
"It was her fault."
"Maybe it was," the younger youkai allowed. "But it was an accident. A fluke. I don't hate her for it. If anything, I'm... thankful that she was here."
"Thankful?" The black-haired Nekoshou's eyes shifted to Shirone, nonplussed by the small, earnest smile on her little sister's face.
"Were it not for her, we might still be on the streets. Or worse."
'Dead?'
No, she'd have said it, were that the case. "What do you mean by 'worse'?"
A beat passed.
"Do you trust me?"
That question again?
At least this time, she was able to answer it instead of giving Shirone silence.
"I was worried you were... deluded, after being in a nightmare for years on end." Kuroka swallowed. "But... even if you're not the same sister I knew, you're... still Shirone. Even if you prefer a different name these days."
Shirone, no, Koneko, lifted an arm and reached up to place her hand on her sister's arm.
"Do you trust me?" she repeated herself.
Kuroka wouldn't make her sister ask that question a fourth time.
"I suppose I'll have to, after seeing what unfolded, won't I?" she said, breaking into a small smile. "You shouldn't have been able to fight as well as you did. You're a lot more mature than I'd have expected, too. Something is going on. So, what's so unbelievable that I'd need to trust you before you even share your story?"
Once more, the white nekoshou fell silent, before speaking again. "...You killed them. The Naberius. The one who was supposed to be your King, the one who took us in after the explosion that killed Okaa-san and Otou-san."
'Eh?'
"That was Luna, though?"
"Not from what I remember." Koneko smiled, almost cattish. "And yet, I know both to be true. You killed your King, and became a Stray. An SSS-class convict, in the eyes of Devils. Yet, it's Bael-san who's the criminal, wanted by the Underworld for the very deed she set out to mete justice on."
What was she talking about?
"Does... this have something to do with your nightmares?"
"It has everything to do with them." The white-haired Rook stood, and walked around the fire, plopping into a sitting position across from her sister.
Kuroka thought about it. Then... "They weren't just nightmares, were they?"
"Visions. Twisted, messy, distorted, violent visions." Shirone brought her arms together, shivering faintly, before letting them drop with a shake of her head. "But after enough time, I began to make sense of what I was seeing. I could unravel the truth from the oily gunk that tried to break me with it."
The black-haired nekoshou thought over this, then scowled. "...Even if it was an accident, she still put you through that hell."
"Maybe she did. I'm still glad though. It gives me... perspective. Opportunity. A chance to change things for the better."
"Before what you saw comes to pass?"
"Exactly. Which makes me think your King is a special case, herself."
Kuroka frowned. "...How so?"
"She picked us up off the streets, before you were found and pressured into joining the Naberius Peerage. Someone who was supposed to be Buchou's Knight was nowhere to be found, the compound he was raised in - and would have died in - burned to the ground, and recently at that. No bodies. And now, you. Here. Helping me protect Akeno-san and Shuri-san."
"So you're saying that were it not for her, things would be different?"
Koneko nodded. "You would be an SSS-class criminal, on the run as an heir killer Stray. Yuuto Kiba would be Buchou's Knight, the sole survivor of an underground Church project, yet neither he nor his fellow children are anywhere to be found. And now... Akeno Himejima. She would have been motherless, denounced her father, and wandered for a long time before finally being saved by Buchou and her brother's Bishop. After being jumped by her family a second time. Yet... none of these things happened."
"Because of Luna?"
The younger nekoshou bowed her head. "Because of Bael-san's actions, all these horrible events have failed to come to pass, yes. I... as much as I am worried about Kiba-kun, and confused why everything is so... different, I'm glad. Things could have been so much worse for us all, had it not been for her."
Her gaze lingered on the fire, tossing in another branch to the crunching delight of their source of heat. "If going through six years of torture within my own mind means my sister isn't a criminal, that Kiba-kun's family is still alive, and that Akeno-san's mom is too, to say nothing of Buchou's position, then that's a trade I'll gladly make. You all suffered so much in the world I saw."
"It hasn't been easy these past six years either," Kuroka pointed out.
"Perhaps not. But it isn't as bad as it could have been. That's okay." Koneko gave Kuroka a small, earnest smile. "I'd much rather my sister not be alone in the world. Even if it means things were tougher on myself for a while."
The black-haired nekoshou looked down and away.
"That's supposed to be my line..."
"Then you know how I feel. I have people I can trust, and you do too. That doesn't mean we can't still be sisters. Finding others to stick by is a part of growing up, isn't it?"
"I just wish I could have been there."
"You were. When I couldn't fend for myself, you were. Which is more than I could ever ask." Koneko bowed her head. "It's okay, Nee-san. I'm okay now. I will be okay, too."
As the black-haired Nekoshou processed those words, the younger youkai lifted her head, tilted it, and gave her sister something approaching a smirk. Then, pulling out a phone, she wagged it in her hand. "And if I do need help again, I know exactly how to get ahold of you."
Her expression stilled, as did the phone in her hand. "So stop worrying so much. It's bad for your skin."
The deadpan delivery of her sister's last comment caused Kuroka to break into giggles, dying down after a few seconds.
"...Alright. I suppose I have a call I need to make myself. I would use my phone, but... it miiiight have been in my old yukata, nya."
A snort. "I think I get the idea. Here. You can borrow mine. Memorize my phone number while you're at it, so you can put it in the next phone you get."
"Thanks... Koneko."
"You can still call me Shirone. I don't mind."
"Even if you prefer being called 'kitten'?"
"You're my sister," the white-haired Nekoshou shrugged, as if that explained everything.
Though to Kuroka, it did.
"Get up."
Diodora groaned from his place on the ground, one hand rising up before slamming into the dirt beneath it, pushing himself back onto his feet.
He'd certainly seen better days. His body was bruised and battered, his muscles aching, protesting with every motion.
Yet his eyes were alight, burning fierce and smoky as he rose back into a kneeling position.
"Lord Astaroth." His ally, a mere child, said, joining him by his side as said child drew and readied a blacker-than-black sword, brightening the rest of the room by proxy of shadows being pulled inward. "Can you still fight?"
"You're asking me?" the teal-haired Devil chuckled. "You should focus more on yourself, Isaiah."
"Our teacher has been light with me, compared to you," the pre-adolescent smiled, though given his own bruises it was more like a grimace.
A straight-edged blade came to rest against the shoulder of their instructor, golden eyes watching them, scrutinizing their movements as greaved feet met the ground, wings folding back behind them.
Even among them, the mercenary's face was shrouded, covered in cloth even if tufts of copper hair poked through.
"You have a powerful Sacred Gear, Isaiah," the merc finally started. "Sword Birth, in the hands of the right wielder, is capable of challenging even the Longinus. Perhaps it's your youth. Given your holy sword affinity and your prior affiliation however, I expected more from you."
The Sacred Gear wielder in question stiffened. "My original teachers were... less than kind."
"There is a lesson to be learned in everything, even a thinly-veiled beating. I would have hoped you picked up more than merely how to hold a sword." The copper-haired soldier said.
"Everyone has to start somewhere, don't they?" The Devil came to his child servant's defense. "I certainly did so from a low point."
A hand lifted to their head. "True. Still, it makes training you both... difficult. Particularly if I do so at the same time."
Isaiah lowered his blade, tilting his head. "How so?"
"For one, I have limited time. And for two..." The mercenary moved, stepping in to knock Isaiah's sword from his hand, eliciting a cry from the pre-adolescent before simultaneously kicking him away and catching the blade that the young swordsman had once held.
They turned around to strike at air with the flat of Isaiah's sword, Diodora flying back as the illusion shattered under their instructor's stolen weapon.
"For two, you have separate flaws that need addressing. Your guard needs improvement Isaiah, and you become easy to predict before long Lord Astaroth. Both are dangerous flaws to have in a fight. If I train to address one, the other may be neglected."
Diodora crashed to the ground, but scrabbled back to his feet as the mercenary's true sword struck downward, to impale him where his head had been.
"Predictable?" The Astaroth made a 'tsk' as he backed up, arm flashing up to catch a blade Isaiah threw towards him, adopting a standard two-handed stance. "My primary strength is my mentalism anyway, so all I need to do is survive until I break into their head."
"Relying on such tricks will not save you when you face an opponent who is able to mitigate, negate, or outright turn your specialty into a weakness; fundamentals will. You both have a solid grasp of basics, but for you to surpass your limits and challenge the status quo, 'solid' simply isn't enough."
Diodora said nothing, instead scowling and rushing forward, blade slashing downward as Isaiah weaved to the side, moving to flank with the Astaroth.
"Predictable, predictable!" Their instructor moved, dancing around, beneath, above the blades, kicking Isaiah's into the ground before whirling around and slamming a fist into the child's face. He shattered, another illusion as Diodora knelt down to the ground below where the blond had been standing, visible eyes glowing faintly as he slowly bent down before lunging upward, Isaiah dropping down from above with a yell, blade plunging downward.
"Better... but not enough!" Caught in the swing, instead of pulling back the mercenary twisted into the whiffed swing even more, stolen sword flicking into a backhanded grip, slamming into the ground to push themself away, shifting direction mid-air by abandoning it.
"Ngh!" Diodora and Isaiah passed through each other, the real pre-adolescent behind their instructor as he swung a sword for the copper-haired Devil's midsection.
The clang of metal heralded the failure of Isaiah's attack, deflected by the mercenary's true blade, before the blond was sent tumbling head over heels into the wall.
As Diodora moved to intercept, their teacher made a sound, turning to clash blades. Their block remained steady, even as the Astaroth's expression darkened.
"How did you see me?"
A scoff. "I didn't. Your illusions are sound. You're just too easy to read. Always aiming for the back, always trying to leverage your illusions into a flank, or some other advantageous positioning."
"You expect me to not use my talents to my advantage?"
Those golden eyes crinkled faintly. "Of course I expect you to. But you're leaning too heavily into said talents; if you aren't creative with them, and work for competency in your weaknesses, you won't get far. I'm not a leader simply because I was a natural warrior. Complement talent with effort; that is how you advance."
The teal-haired Devil stiffened at that. He backed off slowly, before tossing the sword Isaiah gave him aside. His gaze shifted over to said blond, who was holding his head in a hand, the other one coming away bloody.
"In case you haven't realized, I have been."
"Yet, I still believe that you are holding back," the mercenary retorted. "Otherwise, you wouldn't have stagnated again."
The Astaroth scowled.
"And why would I do that?"
"Because you are worried of what you might become, perhaps?"
Diodora paused.
"I have no idea what you're talking about," he answered, tone bland.
"I disagree: I think you know exactly what I mean. Are you concerned that you might become a monster like Dantalion, perhaps? Discipline and respect are how you use such power at your disposal, not hesitance. You will want to think that over, if you wish to continue your path."
The mercenary sheathed their sword and walked over to Isaiah, kneeling down to extend a hand.
"Ah. Sorry for knocking you so hard, it's still difficult to gauge you. You're fast and strong for a kid your age, but no sturdier than a low-class Devil. C'mon, let's get you some medical attention, and some sweets for your hard work."
The teal-haired Devil watched Isaiah get up, slowly, and walk away with the mercenary, leaning on him for support.
The cloth-swabbed mercenary turned back briefly. "Would you like to join us?"
"...I'll pass, thanks."
The mercenary bowed his head. "Very well. Good day, Lord Astaroth."
Then the two were gone.
'...Afraid of the person I could be...?'
Diodora stared at the exit of the two, blinking slowly as he said two words to the empty air.
"You're wrong."
His eyes, partway opened in speculation, squinted shut, a plastic smile rising to his face.
"You're completely wrong."
He'd lived the past several years solely to see Zekram dead, and the Bael's work destroyed, after all.
Diodora would say he's well past caring about the person he could become.
Yet...
"Are you, though?"
Of course he was. Otherwise he wouldn't be working with the likes of the TSF or Rizevim.
They hadn't done anything in his line of sight that was out of the pale just yet, but he wouldn't be surprised if they did. He didn't care.
Yet he couldn't follow through with a single exorcist who was completely at his mercy? How pathetic.
"That's enough," he growled, holding a hand to head.
"No, it's not. You know you're better than that. Didn't have a problem tearing through a Church blacksite. So what's keeping you from finishing the job and claiming your rightful reward?"
"Shut up..." Diodora whispered, trembling.
"Why should I? You're not listening, after all. Ironic, considering you said those exact same words to that Carlamine bint."
The teal-haired Devil whirled around.
"I said shut up!"
WHAM!
His fist hurt.
But whoever said that was nowhere to be found.
Instead, when Diodora pulled his hand out of the dent he made in the wall, it was bleeding, both from the impact with the reinforced, magically-enhanced stone, and the way his fingernails dug into his skin.
"Who are you, to lecture me?" he hissed, glancing behind him.
A hum, before low chuckling, just out of sight.
He was still there.
But how was he staying out of Diodora's line of vision?
"Who are you?" Diodora repeated.
This time, his harasser replied.
"Does it matter? What matters here is you and your utter incompetence. I'm just here to help you get over yourself."
"By insulting me?"
"By telling you the truths you don't want to see."
"Bastard..." he was going to continue, but someone else interrupted at that moment.
"Lord Astaroth...?"
"What is it?" Diodora snapped, whirling back around to see a servant, perhaps a few years older than him, at one of the entryways.
The servant peered past Diodora's shoulder, opening his mouth as though to say something, but choosing to instead focus on the hand dripping blood. "You're bleeding... and it's fresh! What happened?"
The teal-haired Devil sneered. Talk about stating the obvious. "And why should you care?"
"Because you're hurt!"
"As if you haven't been for years now," the person behind Diodora whispered, before chuckling again. "Naturally..."
"I'll deal with it myself," the Astaroth finished stiffly. "Now tell me why you're here before you test my patience."
"A-ah, yes sir. Lord Asmodeus requests your presence."
"Creuserey?" He frowned. "Very well. I will meet with him after I'm done talking."
The servant shifted. "You mean after you're done speaking with me, milord?"
"No, you're free to go. I mean whoever's behind me attempting to... provoke me."
The servant's brow furrowed.
"But... there's nobody there."
Diodora's frown deepened.
"Then perhaps they are invisible. No matter. Leave me."
The servant paused, then bowed, and beat a hasty retreat.
As he did, Diodora faced the invisible Devil again, ignoring the dripping down his hand. "Do you get your kicks from making me look crazy?"
"It's a plus," the voice admitted. "But like I said, that's not why I'm here."
"Have you thought that, perhaps, I don't want you around?"
A laugh. "As if you can do anything to change that. Especially like you are now."
Great. Now he needed to tear down the Bael household and deal with yet another aggravating voice. Rizevim was already bad enough.
"Now, now, let's not jump to conclusions. Like I said, I'm here to... show you the way forward."
The voice got quieter, more conspiratorial. "I can help you... that is, if you let me."
"And how can I trust someone who won't even show their face?"
"You say that, yet you wear a mask in public every single day." Diodora felt someone drape an arm across his shoulders. He tried batting the arm off, but it remained stubbornly in place. "Perhaps it wears your skin, but it's still a mask all the same."
"That is that, and this is this," the Astaroth sniped back.
"Sure. At least I'm just hiding my appearance, rather than my intentions. After all, I doubt anyone would want to interact with you if they knew just how close you are to... snapping."
"Even if I was, how would you know that?"
Another chuckle. "Does it matter?"
"Yes it does."
"No, I think you're just paranoid."
"Says the invisible man."
"Or maybe you're not strong enough to even perceive me."
"Now you're just making excuses."
"Just like you always have been." The invisible arm drew away. "'No talent', 'Ostracized by the Underworld', 'Zekram's fault', 'incompatible teacher'. When will you finally grow up and take the bull by the horns?"
Diodora's fists ached as he clenched them again. "I have been!"
"Excuses, excuses. That's all I hear, and all you're able to do is make them."
He started reaching out with his mentalist arts to find the mind of the bastard who thought to insult him.
"Don't bother. You can't even touch me with that weak shit. No wonder your fiancee died, hell, if I knew mine was this weak I'd have killed myself a long time ago!"
"Shut the fuck up!"
"Why should I? What will you do about it? You can't touch me. you can't hurt me. You can't see me. You can't even feel my presence; the only thing giving me away is the voice you're listening to now."
"I-" The teal-haired Devil made to speak, but was cut off by the voice shifting behind him.
"Face it. If I wanted to, you'd already be dead. Or is that what you're hoping for, to join your beloved in the afterlife?"
Diodora whirled around again, still finding nothing to level his mentalist arts at.
"Predictable. You really are too easy, you really think that Zekram's gonna be cowed by that sort of strength? You'll be stomped flat before you can so much as blink."
"...Doesn't matter." The Astaroth growled. "He'll see justice... no matter what I have to do."
"Funny way of dispensing 'justice'. You just want revenge."
Diodora fell silent.
"Even then, you won't be strong enough to achieve it, the way you're going," the voice said, mocking tone dropping to a more earnest, conciliatory one. "Quite frankly, I'm surprised you've gotten as far as you have."
This time, a hand came to rest on his shoulder, the voice in that same ear. "Look, we both want the same thing. So let me help you. Together we'll turn you from a mediocre Devil to one whose name draws fear and respect alike. You'll get your vaunted 'justice', and I... will achieve my own goals. Just let me in."
For a long second, the teal-haired Devil stared, teeth grit and mind whirling.
Finally, however, he bowed his head.
"...Fine." Diodora's eyes squeezed shut. "Fine. I'll hear you out."
The satisfaction in the other's voice was all too real. "Theeeeere we go. Now..."
Creuserey swirled a wineglass in one hand as he sipped, eyeing the door beyond the desk at which he sat.
Diodora was late.
The Asmodeus would have to impose on the teal-haired whelp not to waste his time.
Several more minutes passed before he finally entered the office.
Immediately, the son of Asmodeus could tell something was off.
He was too assured. Too steady.
Diodora was a powerful mentalist, but there had always been something... weak, about him. As though he were hanging on by a thread to something precious.
Hesitant, perhaps, was the better term.
In Creuserey's eyes, it was weakness all the same.
Yet when their gazes locked, the Asmodeus found none of it in Diodora's squinted, smiling face.
What caused that change? Or had he just improved his mask?
"What is it?" the teal-haired Devil asked, brusquely.
Such impudence. Creuserey flexed his power, to force Diodora onto the ground.
Yet despite that, the Astaroth didn't give way. He shuddered under the force, but he held firm.
'Hmm.'
That was... peculiar.
"You are late," Creuserey said, matching Diodora in bluntness. "I do not take kindly to you wasting my time by making me wait."
"I was in a conversation I could not simply put aside," he replied back evenly. "Besides, I am not one of your servants, nor one of your yes-men. Do not think that intimidating me with your power will get you anywhere."
Diodora crossed his arms. "You said you wanted to speak with me, so here I am. No more, no less. So. What do you want?"
Short, and to the point.
If it weren't directed at him, Creuserey would have applauded that no-nonsense attitude.
"I've been receiving rather disturbing reports of your... stagnancy, training with my general."
"I haven't had the proper mindset to truly develop as I should have been." A shrug. "I think that going forward, that will change."
"Hmh. At least you recognize it. So, since you seem to recognize what the issue is, let's dispense with any formalities and be completely honest with each other." Creuserey leaned forward, glaring at Diodora. "You're a hindrance to me, whelp. Were it not for Lord Lucifer forcing us to work with you, I'd have run a hand through your gut and pulled out your entrails already."
"I could have figured out we aren't on good terms without you spelling it out for me," Diodora shifted his head, as though rolling his eyes. "Besides, I doubt you are fond of anybody, given what I've seen between you and the other three True Children, Rizevim included."
"I am fond of those that make no excuses. I am fond of those who understand that being strong is the only way to change the world. I am fond of those who recognize strength and submit to it like they rightfully should." The Asmodeus's eyes narrowed. "You have failed on all three counts. The fact that you stubbornly refuse to bow even now is an affront to my senses."
"I've been done living on my knees for years now." The Astaroth gave another single, nonchalant shrug. "So if you want me to bow, you're going to have to make me. But let me warn you now..."
One eye opened, glowing a dark, ominous green.
"If you try, there won't be a Creuserey left to breathe down my neck. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow. But once I become strong enough to face you, I will erase you. I have already had a... frustrating day. Don't push it."
Creuserey tilted his head, regarding Diodora's words before choosing his next action.
Then, he smirked.
"You've got fire, at least, saying something so hostile to my face, in my halls no less. I wonder if you would say the same if Rizevim wasn't protecting you."
"Maybe I wouldn't. But I plan on reaching the top and surpassing you all anyway. I will also make use of the... privileges such protection gives while it lasts."
Diodora grinned, his open eye squinting back shut. "All the better to burn the one who took everything from me."
Creuserey leaned back, taking a hand and drumming it on the table.
This had gone... similarly to how he expected it to. Yet, Diodora had surprised him all the same, with his change in demeanor.
As well as his ambition. Perhaps there was more to it than petty arrogance.
He'd had half a mind to take his finest warrior off Diodora's training, but now?
He supposed he could see a hint of promise.
"...I expect to see immediate improvement. Our time is limited, and currently the brat you took under your wing shows more potential than you do. Do better, or you will be left behind."
"You hardly need to say that." Diodora stepped back toward the door, turning around. "...At this point, if I don't do better I may as well spare everyone the trouble of getting me out of the way."
"Then we're on the same page. Excellent. I hope to see better things of you, whelp."
Diodora gave Creuserey his usual closed-eye smile. "Again, you don't need to tell me that."
The door to the dungeon slammed open, and Diodora stormed in, face a smiling mask as he walked up to Carlamine and stopped, staring down at her.
After blinking away the surprise at such a blunt entry, the exorcist glared up at him.
"What do you want?"
"Many things," he replied back, the smile dropping. "But I think I may have been soft in reaching for them. So let's change that, shall we?"
The bindings around her snapped, falling away all at once even as he grabbed her arm and pulled her to her feet in front of him. Days of being stuck in that chair caused her legs to shake, but she wouldn't fall, not before the one who'd kidnapped her in the first place.
Still, it took her aback, especially as he pushed her away, pushing those papers he'd left in her cell into her arms, back meeting the wall with a grunt.
"Wha- what are you doing!?"
"Letting you realize the truth for yourself." His mask was unreadable as he strode back up and pressed a palm to her forehead. She felt something happen, something slip in, but for the life of her she couldn't tell what it was.
What she could tell, however, was that when he stepped away and started forming what she recognized as a teleportation seal, it was meant for her.
"I'm letting you go, under one condition. Don't bother asking; you'll figure out what that caveat is for yourself when it comes up."
"Did you... do something to me just now!?"
"I thought I told you not to bother asking." The smile returned, yet its artificial nature went from fake to icy. "Though now that you're asking questions, I have to wonder if you really want to know the answer, or just what you want to hear."
"What are you talking about? Make sense, Devil!"
"You'll see soon enough. Just like I'll see you soon enough."
He stepped beside her, and with a shove sent her stumbling toward the seal, and with a flash of light she found herself... someplace else.
She recognized it, though.
Had he returned her to the bunker for the Holy Sword Project?
It looked similar enough, but it was little more than a ruin at this point.
She looked down, and shivered as the cold wind made itself known through her clothes.
At least there was a town not far off. She could easily make the trip.
Then she could figure out what exactly that Devil meant.
Carlamine's arms wrapped around herself as she braced for the cold and began hiking.
She... had to know.
Diodora decided to take a trip not long after he released his prisoner, as there was someone else he needed to see.
The one in question was a busy man, with busier friends and no love lost between them.
The teal-haired Devil didn't particularly care.
There was no place to care for that, especially with the gambit he was making.
He sat down in a park, sitting against the back of a bench, and waited for the one he intended to speak with.
He got his wish soon enough, when he noted his gaze slide by a familiar head of green hair, before refocusing on it with difficulty.
Not many would be able to successfully do so, but Diodora did.
Perhaps that was why Ajuka Beelzebub chose that particular spell to walk unaccosted?
"Ajuka. Thank you for coming."
The Satan in question blinked, perhaps mildly surprised that Diodora had been able to focus on him despite the ward he'd chosen, but gave no other visible reaction.
"It isn't often I receive missives from family, much less my cousin." Ajuka sat on the bench, arms crossed as he eyed Diodora, a privacy ward rising over them without a single gesture from the Satan. "So, why did you ask for my time?"
"A talk. No more, no less."
"There are other things I could be doing that are more important."
"I'm willing to share pertinent information."
"I'm assuming it has something to do with your affiliation with the True Satan Faction?"
That stopped him cold.
Diodora lifted a brow. "You've got a good espionage network."
"It's important to have eyes and ears in all places." Ajuka didn't deny it. "The True Children are dangerous, and I'm not fool enough to think that they nor their allies will lay low forever. Besides, your disappearance from the political floor is rather in time with their forces stirring. It is not a difficult conclusion to come to."
"Then why meet with me like this? Why not just drop by at home and obliterate me where nobody except perhaps my parents would notice?"
"Because you are the... reasonable sort. You wouldn't join the TSF if you didn't have good cause. I assume it has something to do with your fiancee."
Diodora clasped his hands together, staring at the ground long and hard.
"You're walking dangerous ground, boy," the voice behind him warned. "Choose your next words wisely, or else everything you're working for goes up in flames."
As if he needed to say that. Diodora knew full well.
"...Have you ever lost a loved one without warning?" the Astaroth said aloud.
Ajuka didn't answer, instead watching Diodora closely.
"Do you know what it's like, to see the corpse of someone you thought you were going to spend your life with?" he continued. "It feels like your world's breaking around you. Nothing makes sense, yet you desperately try to make sense of it all. None of it seems real. Until it does. Then you wish you could have blinded yourself before you saw it all in the horrifying, memory-searing detail you did."
"What does this have to do with you joining the TSF?"
Diodora licked his suddenly dry lips.
"Tara's body wasn't just left behind in the FFP's cavern; it was mutilated. Desecrated, in such a way that was meant to hurt those close to her. Especially the one closest of all."
Ajuka let Diodora continue.
"I still can't get it out of my head. What I first saw was a pleasant dream compared to the nightmarish sight that it really was. It was only because the hall was put under an illusion when I first arrived, one that made it seem less brutal than it really was, that I didn't go mad. The one who put the illusion there in the first place? Someone from the TSF."
"So they pinned the blame on the Great King Faction?"
"Who else could it be? I was just a nuisance to the TSF, and the OSF's power is more spread, more evenly distributed among their members. But as the founder of the Forgotten Front Party, which was gaining ground in the Assembly at a pace previously unheard of in Devil culture, we were a threat to the party in charge."
His clasped hands clenched together.
"And who down here has the power and influence to sweep such a purge under the rug? Certainly not the OSF, not without help."
"...You think Zekram Bael was behind it."
"Not him specifically." A cold chuckle. "Plausible deniability. He'd send someone else to do the dirty work. But I have no doubt he specifically ordered the hit. And ordered someone on high to boot."
"You have a culprit in mind."
"The entire hall was a mess. The people there were burned to ashes or torn to shreds. It was as though an angry dragon had ravaged the place. A fire dragon, and a powerful one."
"Tannin." Ajuka tilted his head. "Though why would Sirzechs's Rook, a warrior renowned for his nobility, take such a job?"
"Tannin's dream is, supposedly, to create a home where his children can live freely, is it not? Then if Zekram were to suggest that the Blazing Meteor Dragon needed to do something to keep that land..."
"I think I see the line of reasoning." The Satan leaned back, arms crossed as he stared into the blue sky that he himself had cast over the city. "So, you believe Zekram ordered the hit, and blackmailed Tannin into making an example of the FFP's main holding."
"What other conclusion is there? That someone else came in and made the whole thing worse? Don't make me laugh. Even if someone else made the whole thing 'worse', Zekram still set the death of my fiancee in motion. The simplest explanation is usually the right one anyway."
"Often. But not always," Ajuka countered.
"I don't know, it makes perfect sense to me."
"So that's why you joined the TSF. To get revenge on Zekram, is that it?"
"To make him pay for his crimes." Diodora met Ajuka's gaze, steady beneath the slowly increasing aura that the Satan was leveling upon him. "Before, it was about holding those in power to account. It was just ideological before. Now, it's personal too."
"So why come to me about it?"
"Because you are... the reasonable sort," the teal-haired Astaroth echoed Ajuka's prior explanation. "Or you're supposed to be. You're supposed to be the one who follows logic and reason above all else: that's what a scientist is, right? What reason is there to allow someone who's no better than the Satans of the past to remain in power?"
Ajuka's eyes narrowed.
"You're talking about an insurgency."
So did Diodora's.
"I'm talking about a revolution."
"You're talking about a return to the past."
The teal-haired Devil shook his head. "Far from it. What I want is a reimagining of the Underworld, where nobody has to fear for their lives or those of their loved ones simply by association."
"You say that when you work for the TSF? Seems rather hypocritical to me."
"We have a common enemy. The moment that's over, so is my alliance with them."
"You talk as though you can overcome three True Children. Even if you are a mentalist of some skill, beating them is as likely as a snowball surviving an angry Phenex."
"That's why I'm reaching out to you, after all."
"Why not Falbium? He supported the FFP before."
"He completely closed off any communication after the FFP was nixed. I believe he's waiting for an opportunity, but until then..."
Ajuka shook his head.
"So you come to me."
"You're a man of science. Of reason, and logic, and truth. Especially the truth. Don't you see what a big lie this Underworld is?"
"You ask this of someone who helped build this Underworld."
"Yet you barely participate in the politics, you're typically holed up in your lab, and if you are doing something outside of it, it's almost always on Sirzechs's behalf."
The Beelzebub maou frowned, and Diodora pressed onward.
"So what's making you hesitate? Why are you so reluctant to go all the way for what you believe in?"
"Maybe I've chosen to be satisfied with what we've achieved. Or perhaps I don't care."
"If that were the case, you wouldn't be even more of a recluse now than you were back when you still bore our family name," Diodora countered. "I don't believe either answer for a second."
"That's all you're getting either way."
But the teal-haired Devil continued to push. "Are you really satisfied? Or are you speaking for Sirzechs when you say that? He's got everything he ever wanted, after all, so it's little wonder he'd have no problem with living a lie."
A pause, as the voice whispered a suggestion to Diodora.
The Astaroth's smile turned toothy and crooked, eyes opening slightly. "Hm. Now that I think about it, that's why he took up the mantle for the Prince of Lies, isn't it? And if you stick to him like a maggot to a carcass, would that be why you took up the name for the Lord of the Flies?"
Ajuka's frown became a sharp scowl, standing up to bear down on his cousin. "I did not come to be insulted."
"Then don't insult me with your asinine excuses, Ajuka," Diodora bit back just as pointedly, matching scowl for scowl. "Just tell it to me straight; are you a scientist, or are you a sycophant?"
The younger Devil was having difficulty breathing under Ajuka's pressure, but the only show of weakness he gave were hard, deep breaths, as though angry rather than being pressed down on.
After what felt like an eternity staring the green-haired Devil down, Ajuka finally spoke, slowly, levelly.
"Perhaps I'm not satisfied with the way the Underworld has turned out. It nearly destroyed someone I could almost call a friend, and its xenophobia to this very day is appalling. But I swore to Sirzechs that I would stand by his side, and I have no intention of breaking that promise."
He stepped back, lifting his arms to each side. "If you really are that desperate to earn my support, then you have to convince him to lend you his aid first."
"Coward," the voice behind Diodora hissed.
Diodora agreed.
"A sycophant, then. I was hoping I wouldn't be disappointed, but here we are now." The Astaroth spat down between Ajuka's feet and stood, expression wholly closed off as he turned to leave. "In that case, this may be the last time we meet on even marginally civil terms. Good day, Lord Beelzebub. I hope you are able to sleep in the bed you made."
But the Beelzebub Satan wasn't finished, not even regarding the slight toward him.
"One last thing before you go, however." Diodora paused, Ajuka reaching into a pocket to pull out a small notebook and a pen, jotting down something before tearing the notebook paper off and handing it over to the Astaroth.
"And this is...?"
"The number of someone who may be more receptive than I to your plight."
"...And how am I supposed to believe that?"
"Because even if I swore to stand by Sirzechs until the end, that doesn't necessarily mean I agree with the steps he's taken. If nothing else, hearing about someone gunning for the government he helped build may give him reason to recalculate his trajectory. You wanted support outside the TSF? Then this is your best bet. I would rather you rely on someone who isn't one of the True Children, anyway."
Diodora's eyes opened slightly, staring down at the proffered piece of paper, expression stony.
He swiped it from Ajuka's hand, and slipped it into a pocket.
"Good day, Lord Beelzebub," he repeated himself, before walking off, through the privacy ward and away from the Satan.
Ajuka watched him leave without another word, before the Satan vanished in a teleportation circle.
A/N:
More plot is revealed. Yaaaay.
and what's gonna happen with akeno, koneko, and kuroka? thats for me to know and you to find out!
more dio, poor dio. hes going through some serious shit, and hes starting to become harsher for it. question is, is he being tempered, or is he slowly breaking?
so what is going on with him? you can certainly guess, but the truth will come out later
Tempura Wizard out.
