The mortuary was, as expected, tragically full and cold. Krishna-Kripa hated the place… but nonetheless wanted to be there.

Needed to be there.

Beside him was his sister, Asahi.

It felt like forever since they stood in the same room. Even if realistically, they had seen each other less than a day ago.

Maybe.

It was hard to tell without the sun and a working smartphone.

The two siblings stood in front of the cooling bed, where the body of Iori Junpei rested.

Junpei… the Magician, the class clown, the oaf of the group. The muscles, the baseball geek, and Yuki's best friend before him/ her. Before Bhakti-Devi called,.

He wanted to ask his mom where his dad would end up. He couldn't say heaven, because no matter how you look at it, Junpei had done enough sins, even ignoring the offence he did to Kripa. twice but…

"I don't think he's going to Hell." The greenette spoke to no one in particular. "In the Srimad-Bhagavatam, when Prahlad's father, the great Demon Hiranyakashipu, was killed by Narashima, the Half-lion-Half man incarnation of Sri-Bhagavan, he immediately gave liberation to him, since it was Prahlad's wish to see him freed from his material conception."

"But… dad isn't a demon, Nanashi." Asahi protested quietly as she whipped her tears. "Sure, he got… weird sometimes, and he turned into… the Batter, but he wasn't a demon!"

Krishna-Kripa kept his lips tight.

Being a Demon… Well, there were two types.

The first one was being demon-born, like Prahlad and his family and Vibishana. In the previous Vedic eras, demons were living in different places depending on the time.

In Satya Yuga, the demons lived on other planets above and below the earth. Then, in Treta Yuga, they lived on different continents. In Dwapara, they would share family members, and the lines between demons and humans began to blur.

Finally, in Kali-Yuga, the age of quarrels and hypocrisy, everyone had the potential to be demonic. Hell, some people desired to be the lowest, grossest, and vilest of demons just because they could and because it was cool and edgy.

Kripa had wanted to be a demoniac punk. Living on the edge, breaking all the rules because fuck to fun killers, and living life to its fullest without caring for others' feelings about that.

Live fast, die young, go against everyone for the hell of it, be rude, be crude, make people cringe, cry, and get mad 'cause they wouldn't lift a hand over crassness... Yolo life all the way!

God almighty, it felt so long ago. Even if, realistically, it had been less than a week, And yet he still wanted to throttle Nanashi for that.

Fuck Emos and their overglorification of poor mental health and chaos for the sake of ego inflation.

Where was he?

Right…

Most of his old team, save him and Yuki, were demoniac in nature, some less than others.

But from them all, Junpei had been the worst. An avowed atheist and someone who had destroyed the body of an old devotee. Someone who had attempted to close down the temple and start riots during their peaceful Ratha-yatra.

Someone who, despite living in a post-apocalyptic Tokyo, had sacrificed his time and resources in raising a child that was not his own. A sickly little thing that could've died at any moment and thus wasted his and everyone's time.

Someone who had opened his heart and home to a sickly boy with brittle bones and a pressing need for the sun, someone many older hunters told the future Boss of Kinshicho would be better used as a bargaining chip with the demons instead of an aspiring cadet...

It was only at the end, when Krishna showed himself that... his dad turned into something horrible.

It reminded Nanashi... Krishna-Kripa of Prahlad's story, how Hiranyakashipu would dote on his youngest like the good father he was. That is, until the saintly five-year-old revealed his natural propensity to worship Vishnu.

It was then that his father turned into a monster, a child abuser, the first one...

'Dad... did just like him. Krishna… You gave me everything; you even protected my sister personally. but now I have one last request.

"Oh Bhagavan, oh Sri-Krishna-Chaitania Mahaprabhu, you who are the source of all avatars and who gave the highest liberation to Jagai and Madhai, who used to be known as Hiranyaksha and Hiranyakashipu. Please forgive him; he didn't know any better.' Krisha-Kripa prayed, giving his dad whatever good karma he had.

Then he turned around; he was tired of this room, and he wanted to be with Yuki, Mai, and Merkebha.

and in a warm place, he always felt slugish in the cold, being part plant and all that.

"Nanashi! Where are you going?" His sister yelped as she grabbed his sleeve, and it took everything in the tired boy not to throw her away.

Muscle memory and Nicari's training will do that; it will change a man.

"Why are you leaving? You know we have to watch over the body; otherwise, the Kashas will eat it."

"No, they won't," the Dryad assured his sister. "Auntie Radha laid claim on the body; she'll be dealing with it once she's back from... whatever she's doing with Flynn and... aw shit, and I wanted to hang out with Joe; he left with the rest of the Samurais." Kripa lamented. "Oh well, at least Gaston's still here, I think."

"But, wait! Nanashi!" Asahi yelped. "I don't want to be alone here! We have to watch over his dead body!"

Nanashi turned back. And god, this was a hard call.

He knew Asahi would stay in the scary mortuary, surrounded by corpses and grieving spirits, as she waited for the funerals. The'moral' thing to do, as per popular opinion, was to stay with her. Maybe Kripa could somehow talk to her about Krishna and how to reach him.

But right now, he just wanted to hang out with his folks and take shelter in Krishna's words.

How can one remain sad when he knows that souls can't be destroyed by anything conceivable and inconceivable?

But not many were willing to believe that, since it wasn't 'scientific' enough.

"Sorry, Asahi I just…"

"It's fine. I know... you can't handle the cold super well." Asahi said as she rubbed her barren shoulders.

One may find it odd that the boss's daughter would only wear a single dress at all times. Well, they were in post-apocalypse Tokyo; finding a decent clothing store with the drip they wanted was as rare as making friends with an angel and not suffering the consequences later.

Kripa was still waiting for the other shoe to drop, to be honest.

"Do you want me to go get Fujiwara?" The Dryad asked: There was no way he would leave his little sister completely alone; it just didn't feel right.

Asahi bit her lips and said, "Please."

"All right, just... give me a mo." Nana… Kripa said as he pulled out his mom's old Flipphone.

(no time or date; the poor thing was that beat up) and contacted Fujiwara, informing him that he was bailing out on corpse watching duty since it was against his religion.

Seriously, Vaishnava's funeral rites were, according to the internet, pretty fun and awesome, with lots of flowers, singing of the holy name, and more fire. Usually at the bank of the Ganga.

He'd never seen one in person, but he remembered that, as Aigis (Ananada-Rupini) had looked it up only when she realised that her body was failing.

It was a sad yet festive event where the body was covered with sacred garlands that had once adorned their Lordship's chest and hair and the Tulasi leaves that decorated Sri Krishna's sweet lotus feet.

The body was put on a stretcher and shoulder to the gat, spinning a few times to make sure the spirit of this person would not be fettered to his home and family. Meanwhile, incense would be burned and a kirtana would be sung in great joy, for they knew the departed had reached the ultimate abode.

They then would lead the empty vessel to any of the two sacred rivers that remained in India, Yamuna and Gangam. There, they would bathe the body, give them a change of cloth, and anoint them with turmeric, sandalwood pulp, and other sacred substances before loading them face down on a pyre made of cow dung, holy ficus wood, dried Tulasi branches, Kusha grass, and whatever dried grass happened to be growing nearby.

Then, the closest family member would go around the body three times with a cracked earthen pot, and once this was done, the pot would be shattered while still being held, signifying the end of their attachment to the body.

And then... the son (or daughter.) would light the pyre.

For the father, the fire would start at their feet; for the mother, it would start at their mouth.

And then the pyre would burn, and the Kirtana would go on until only embers would remain.

And then those would be washed away after the skull was found and cracked by the closest relative.

It was all about letting go.

Then, in the coming year, there would be different feasts and ceremonies performed for the departed, ensuring their trip to Hell would be... not as bad. Or, for those Vaishnavas who, by the mercy of Sri-Sri Guru-Gauranga, would remember Krishna at the time of death and return home, back to Godhead. Hell would not even be seen, and Yamaraja would be their servant, aiding them in their ascension.

Krpa folded his palms and tried to once again pray to God in his form as Nityananda to save his dad.

Nitai was the most merciful, but... would He accept a repeated Apharadhi?

Only God could know.

"Oh, Kripa, there you are."

"Gaston!? I thought you left with the other Samourai!" Krpa exclaimed as he shamelessly threw himself at the older or taller young man.

Gaston didn't even blink when the greenette hung onto him like a very cold, very sad ivy plant.

The samurai in white encircled his young friend in his arms. "No, Merkebha… Oh, Sir Jonathan, ordered me and Mai to stay back, for it is clear that... You needed the support more," he finished quietly.

Krishna-Kripa stepped back and stared hard at the ravenette. "Ok, who the hell are you, and what have you done to my Gaston?" The plant-like being demanded as he jabbed his finger at his pecs, making the trained warrior wince as he grabbed the offending finger away.

"Next time you want to show your displeasure by jabbing your exceedingly sharp finger in my oh-so-fragile sternum, please refrain."

"Why?"

"I felt my rib crack," Gasto revealed as he took a deep breath. "I may have to get it... reviewed by one of the healers," he grinned. "I'm quite happy to see, my friend, that you are indeed a very strong young man; the lady has never allied herself with the weak in body and mind, and I see that your strength is positively magnificent."

"Bitch, please; I'm fabulous!" Kripa exclaimed with the gay hand flopTM.

"That you are, my fabulous friend." Gaston nodded with his wisest look yet, and it took everything in Kripa's heart not to burst wiht laughter at how serious the tall friend looked.

Apparently, Krishna-Kripa's fabulousness was a serious matter for the Samurai.

…

Did he mention how much he loved Gaston? Seriously, the young teen had no idea that this handsome beast hid under the stuck-up prick at the beginning.

It almost made up for Hallelujah's weird turn.

But then. Krishna, Mukhara, and his cat aunt had explained at length the effect of one's associations and their effect on the maturing mind.

Hallelujah had been raised by a lusty father masquerading as a human Yakuza.

He had been an angel, meaning that Hall was way too small for what he really was.

Nephelims were supposed to be giants born of Rakshasas and humans.

But then… Was Abe really an angel? An Apsara/Gandharva? Or was he a modified human covered in the illusion of being an illusion?

'Whatever, the guy's dead, ain't going to cause us any trouble now.'

Whatever, Gaston was the friend Krishna-Kripe never knew he needed.

"So, what are your plans now, my friend?"

"Ah, I was about to go see Yuki... heard anything? Did he wake up?" Kripa asked as he and Gaston made their way to the Hunter Base's medical wing.

Gaston pursed his lips. "Unfortunately, nothing was heard of your old companion. Only that his vitals were stable... it means he is... well, isn't he?" Gaston asked, clearly not familiar with those terms.

"Yeah," Kripa nodded as he made his way down the medical bay area. "It means Yuki's not getting worse... but he's not getting better either."

"So, he is truly stuck on the border between life and death."

The greenette rolled his eyes at Gaston's magnificent overdramatization.

…

But for all he knew...

Yuki looked so pale and sick, he was barely able to keep anything down, and he even had to stop going to the temple, something that soured his mood further.

Raganuga Swami was about to leave to go to Canada and Alberta. He had stayed for so long only due to some problems with his visa, probably due to the apathy syndrome and... that one cult with this Jesus-like monster.

"It's alright, Yuki-kun. You made it... You passed your exams. Just rest; I will forever watch over you."

Suddenly, heavy pairs of hands descended on Aigis's shoulders.

No.

On Nana, on Chandra

On Krishna-Kripa's shoulders, once again grounding him in reality.

'Krishna… I don't want to remember this. Oh, my life, why can't I remember you? The past is dead and gone; I don't need it anymore.'

"... Pardon me, Kripa. You got lost in your thoughts."

The smaller and younger boy grabbed Gaston's wrists, closing his eyes and remembering Sri Krishna's lotus feet, hips, the broad, barren chest of all but the best and longest of the forest flower garland, and his moon-like face.

"Kripa…"

The young boy took a steady breath and released it. "Sorry, past life memories... I saw Yuki die... of... you know."

He was suddenly interrupted by Gaston, or Gaston's chest, rather.

"'Tis alright, you have gone through... more disasters and tragedies than my own private library can hold. To beg for forgiveness, while noble, is futile in this case."

'So fucking flowery.' The green-haired Vaishnava thought as he and his friend made their way to Yuki's room. Gaston's large, callused hand on Kripa's shoulder.

They passed a few hunters, who congratulated him and Gaston on their victory over Nyarlathotep.

Kripa wanted to protest; he'd done literally nothing but die. Really, Bhagavan had done all the work. But then, knowing his Krishna, Kripa knew His Lord would find a way to dump even more glories onto him, more fame...

More things Krishna-Kripa didn't want nor need it, but would accept it if it meant his Krishna was happy.

It was his only desire, after all.

Eventually (despite the world's most awkward run-in with Hallelujah ever.), Gaston and Kripa reached Yuki's room.

Booth stood in front of the curtain, separating them from Kripa's old object of affection.

When he was Aigis... No, as Hamuko, Yuki was his little brother; then, as Aigis, he was like a son.

Now… How would Kripa see him?

As a brother? A son? Or…

And not only that! Would Yuki ever wake up? This demon that was sealed in his false ego was, well, not the'real' Nyarlathotep, a completely made-up character cooked up by H.P. Lovecraft. The one Yuki had in was yet another goon that got bamboozled by Stephen, now but a memory, but it had been still apocalipticaly powerful, and would he have broken out of the hermitage...

Well, Krishna-Kripa doubted that he would've survived the troublesome flames of hell, just like half of Japan.

His mother had confirmed the hermit's demise, and Kripa was disappointed in the fact that he could not get revenge for what the ass had made everyone go through. But hey, if Krishna made this whole shitstorm play like that, then Krishna-Kripa had nothing to say about this.

His Krishna loved him... He loved everyone, especially his dear surrendered souls. And would change fate itself to protect them.

Once again, Gaston grounded the Dryad, making sure his previous memories would not overwhelm him.
"Krishna, please; I don't need them. Hamuko and Ananda-manjari are dead and gone; those forms turned back into pradhan. I don't want to remember them, Lord... I want to remember you instead," he prayed aloud.

He had the right to be vulnerable, especially with Gasby around.

He did not need to hide behind his persona.

Speaking of which, could he summon Pallas Athena again?

No, it would probably be either Titania or Persephone.

Nevertheless, it was time to face the music. From what he had heard from the doctor running the place and his own mother, Yuki had been heavily drugged, turned into a Jiang Shi, and had his limbs cut off, as proven by the scars around them and his neck.

And by the guilty look twisting his mother's face...

"Let's go, Gaston." The Dryad said as he pushed the door open, revealing the inhabitants of the room. And, surprisingly, Yuki wasn't alone.

And Krishna-Kripa was weaponless.

"Oh, Krishna!" The dryad swore as he beheld the white paper mask of the night mother and, surprisingly, a rather neon-green Thanatos-like person. In his surprise, the young man forgot whatever he knew about fighting one-on-one; his mind almost returned to the time of The Fall, but not quite.

Oh, and the nightmare that had been... that time.

"Who are you?" Gaston demanded, "State your business before my spear speaks for me!" Once again, he showed why he was the captain of the guard.

True, he had been an absolute mess at first, but it was clear he was a natural leader.

Thanatos (he had a lime green pompadour; what the hell?) jumped up, staring at the spearman like a tiger.

And then... it spoke!

"... Gaston? Is that... is that you?"

Gaston, who had been poised to attack, lowered his stance. "Wait, this voice... no, it can't be..." He took a step back, confused and fearful.

"Gaston, oh Gaston, my dearest brother, life of my soul..." The body of Thanatos melted away and instead revealed that of a young man, about as old as Nozomi, with a green streaked pompadour and a long black and silver raincoat reminiscent of the 'God' of death's coffin cape.

In other words, he looked Goth as fuck, and even his skull could be seen through his translucent flesh.

'Damn, and I thought I went hard during my emo phase.'

Gaston took a step back, his body shaking like slime in a vent. "N-no, step away from me, you ghoul!" He spat! "How dare thee take the appearance and words of my departed brother?"

"Because I am him, Gaston! I am him. I am Navarre Landry, first born to Marc and Marjolain, the first to be blessed as a Holy Samurai. and the first to bring infamy to our family," the now-named Navarre admitted shamefully. And for a moment, Krishna-Kripa swore he turned into a lime green slime.

"If this is so, then..."

"You got hit by lightning when you were two; we all thought you were on your deathbed until I swore to Yeho... Yehovah said that I would take up the mantle of a blessed samurai and bring him the wealth hidden in the abyss. Alas, I only ended up shaming us all with my inability to fight monsters. And eventually raped by an alraune."

"No one believes you, despite what you keep telling them. You gave all your wealth to the angels to leave you alone."

"They didn't; they kept telling me how fire would purify me, how I had to cast off my soiled mortal remains, that I would become a saint, the protector of the defiled and wretched." Navarre spoke as Nyx walked close to him, offering her (if she even was a she) support.

Meanwhile, Krishna-Kripa felt like an intruding fly, and yet he could not move from his spot, simply guzzling the tea that was spilled from his edge of the tablecloth.

"I… I knew I wanted to make a name for myself. I know our family would be elevated with my entering the high circle of martyrdom, but...

"Navarre."

"I couldn't do it." The older man admitted it with sobs wracking his translucent frame. "I… I needed to get out, to go to a place where nobody would know me, where I would just be me, with no pressure to be the great Navarre, but just live," he sniffled.

"Brother, how did you die? Master Hope said you'd thrown yourself in the gaping maws leading to Naraku."

This ghostly samurai let out a bark of laughter. "Oh, goodness no. I did not commit violence to myself, Gaston. I managed to somehow send a quest to the Hunter Association. I don't remember who my contact was, but I do know Flynn and Lady Isabeau came one day and escorted me down to this very place. It was an act that elevated him as a saint in my heart, for I was a handful, to say the least." Navarre sheepishly admitted. "I… I lived down here for a while, maybe a month or so before.

"Before?"

"I let my lower nature control me; I saw the queen of fairy bathing, and... I got tangled in my fallen pants and subsequently drowned."

"And this… woman… Has she even bothered seeing to your welfare?" Gaston was gutted by the mere notion that all of this could've been prevented.

"No… I doubt the woman felt anything but scorn for a pervert such as me."

After this point, Krishna-Kripa felt more than ready to move on to his true target: Yuki.

He moved closer to the hospital bed. and hated every moment of it.

Mama-chi… She had died in a hospital, in the very same bed.

He remembered the uneven stainless panels that made the far wall, which he looked at the most as his mother's illness took away everything.

Irrationally, Nanashi expected to see her lying on the bed, her body ravaged, and waiting for death to free her from the sweet embrace of the void.

But he wasn't Nanashi anymore; he was Krishna-Kripa, and he knew that this particular sweet soul had already taken birth again in another body. not after a spin cycle in hell (no one was spared, really).

And since Mama-chi had been dear to him, just as Dad had been dear to him, Krishna, out of love for his devotee, all souls would arrange for them a better situation.

Kripa could not help but smile. Yeah, his dad may have gone coo-coo. Seriously, he was so good that Kripa blamed Stephan. and let's throw in Philemon while he was at it! but he still loved him.

Dad raised him well enough, despite his shortcomings.

Krishna would take care of him, of which Kripa was absolutely sure.

And Mama-chi… and all of Kripa's descendants, up to eleven generations down and up.

"Hey, Yuki." Kripa whispered as he gazed at a face he'd never thought he would get to see ever again. "Nice to have you back." He gently grabbed his Yaksha brother's hand.

It was cold, but not dead cold.

Life was still present; his Yuki was still alive.

Despite the fall, despite the poison, despite having Mukhara (by then Toyosatomimi no Miko), the frustrated prince of Japan whose entire reform plan had died in its inception, unleash her wrath on the poor soul, Yuki was still here, still alive.

Krishna had protected him, and while it wasn't the most ideal scenario, Kripa knew that Krishna would have his surendered soul endure horrbile periods of life for purification, testing their rewsolve and to have an opportunity to praise their glories.

Also, Yuki's dismemberedment at the hand of Kripa's mom was most likely the reason for their own family drama. Once she realised that Yuji, once upon a time had been called Miyako Yishika, her favortie punching bag, Mukhara had fallen at the lotus feet of Yuki, crying and weeping, begging for him to forgive her lapse of judgement and how her own loss of limbs had been a just punishment.

This was the reason why Mukhara wasn't there for Kripa—not for a lack of trying, but out of shame over what she'd done to another Vaishnava. A reminder of her previous mistakes, where she believed in becoming one with all and that everything was but a mere illusion.

Kripa was honestly okay with that, since his old friend had to work through her own emotions.

Besides, Kripa never did such an aparadha.

And she had to go through a strategic planning session with Fujiwara about the method to get all the Tokyoites out of hell and nicely situated.

So yeah, there he was—the birth prince of Japan. Raised as a dirty orphan, nameless had been his name; his previous birth was a mechanical one.

He stared at the slackened face of the young man who died with his head resting on his lap, just as spring arrived.

Yuki's skin was still dark, but Mukhara and a few other healers managed to wash out most of the hair gel that gave him the curls. The Tilaka (perhaps it was a sri-Tilaka, but Kripa had no interest in looking at what Stephan desecrated for his own amusement) had been washed away, leaving behind flawless skin.

Well, flawless was a huge stretch since Yuki was horribly scarred.

The only movement to be seen in Yuki was his chest, slowly rising and lowering; every breath was a gift from God.

'Oh, Krishna… I know Maharaja and Prabhupada told us that you shower us with everything else before you give us prema-bhakti. But this is ridiculous, don't you think?' Kripa spoke to his Krishna in his heart as he took Yuki's hand in his own and pressed his lips to it, thanking his Krishna from the deepest part of his god-given heart, crying and laughing as he looked back at the mother-fucking week he'd just managed to survive.

He felt a hand on his back. Looking beside him, he saw Gaston beside him and realised that the hand he felt was his.

The older youth said nothing, his thumb gently rubbing the back of Kripa's stiff neck.

Krishna-Kripa felt a wave of gratitude towards him and towards them.

He wasn't alone.

He was never alone.

—-

Camp Ichigaya was, as expected, filled with oodles of Hell-oriented demons, all grosser and madder than the last.

They were intoxicated, lusty, and bloody. Always hungry for their magnetite. Magnetite that overflowed from three out of the five samurai and one cat like a certian chocolatier's river of irisitable chocolate.

Apparently, being a deity-level being meant that you could maintain other demons with your mere presence. But despite the fact that Vishnu-Flynn, Issashesar, and Merkebha were considered at this level and powerful enough to command an army by themselves, their alignment didn't match that of Lucifer's army.

So fighting it was then, and while the three men had no problem dispatching waves upon waves of chaotic demons in droves, with Radha-shyamasundara's own evil spirits helping out, it left Lady Isabeau sadly sidelined.

Oh, she understood why she could barely get a hit in, let alone send out her own demons to assist the deities.

She was still a human, while Radha was a demon from true-old hell, Jonathan was a literal servant of God, Issachar was the universal serpent, and Flynn was a literal avatar of God.

Yes, it was a stark reminder to the proper lady of the group that she was...

Powerless, at the mercy of God's will.

It was a sobering thought.

And it gave Isabeau's plenty of opportunity to observe Miss Radha-Shyamasundar's dealings in relation to Vishnu-Flynn, and she had to admit it.

It was clear that the worship of the four-armed Lord was an integral part of Radha's culture.

Whatever he told her, she would do. She was fearless, even in the face of demons big enough to eat her, and despite her best effort, Radha always kept close to the now divine being, carrying towels, whatever flowers, and other artefacts she had found.

And yet, she would always run away when Flynn would try to praise her.

Isabeau frowned; she had to talk to Flynn about this.

Eventually, after hours of traipsing in the vilest part of Naraku, they arrived at a place with a rather familiar door.

Knowing that it was a safe place, the heroic group decided to take a break from all the killing (or, in Vishnu's case, liberating) and recover their stamina.

Of course, Vishnu-Flynn, now having unlimited stamina due to the source of everything empowering him, simply sat down for the sake of others, going as far as to let Jonathan pray to him, telling his friend that through him, Bhagavan Sri-Narahsima-Deva would receive their prayers, for he was but a mere messenger.

And the way Flynn said it—with lowered eyes and folded palms—screamed utter humility.

Flynn, the strongest warrior Isabeau knew, Who had once, in his previous life, merged with Masakado to save the whole of Japan and set the foundation for Mikado? The man who had a rightful prideful swagger in his step now exuded the same aura as saints and holy persons.

Perhaps Mukhara was right, and Sri-Vishnu truly was God.

And this God was good.

…

Eventually, Flynn was left alone, the rest having wandered off to either take a short nap or eat something. Once again, Radha proved herself to be an invaluable ally, for she had enough meat-free rations to feed a small army. And to everyone's relief, no trace of demon meat or putrefied corpses was to be seen.

As Issachar and Jonathan partook in the fruit-smelling dry cake, Radha was taking a quick cat nap. Isabeau approached Vishnu-Flynn, who, at the sight, returned to his more human form.

He still had the curly hair, the cat ears and tail, and the golden eyes, but he was still more approachable than his blazing form.

"Isabeau, It's been a while."

"It has, hasn't it?" She said it lightly, choosing not to treat Flynn any differently.

She didn't believe that Krishna was the one true God, nor Vishnu. They were just deities from another land, trying to get in on the last humans. She wasn't even sure she could trust Mukhara. For all she knew, this Mandodari was a powerful, man-eating demon using her terrifying illusory power to trick everyone.

Cynical? Maybe, but Isabeau didn't survive blasted and infernal Tokyo by being an empty-headed optimist.

"So... how are you?" She began cautiously.

Flynn grinned with a carefree smile, as if they were sitting in one of the nicer parks in the luxurious parts of Mikado and not Hell in Naraku.

"I'm doing amazing. Oh, there is no way I can explain it, Isabeau. I know who I am eternally; I've met the one true God, and he personally spoke to me."The Samurai of Hope spoke, his eyes sparkling with hope.

"Oh, that's wonderful." Isabeau really tried to, ahem, hype up her enthusiasm, but only dread filled her heart. "Nevertheless, I wanted to talk to you about Miss Radha."

"Which one?"

"The cat one."

"Hmm." Flynn grunted as he gestured for Isabelle to speak.

It was a rather familiar movement he would do when the Samurai of Hope was either too tired, affected by the numerous horrors he had faced, or simply wanted the conversation to go along without expending more energy.

"She longs for you, Flynn. She is ashamed that she desires you despite the fact that both of us have known each other for longer and thus closer."

"Hmm, I see. And how do you feel about me, Isabeau? I'm now an empowered avatar of God, the one true neutral."

"God is not neutral." Isabeua snapped beside her best attempt. "Hasn't he sent his angels to destroy humans? Isn't the side of law the one of hate, fear, and racism?"

"First of all, Yhvh is not one of the names of Krishna. Yehova is, on the other hand." Flynn explained calmly. "Second is the fact that the Antaryami, the supersoul residing in the hearts of all living entities as the silent watcher, judge, and executioner, has neither friends nor enemies. But if a Jiva follows his rule and attempts to serve him, then does the judge punish the law-abiding citizen? Does the father chastise the good son?" He asked with a slight smile.

Neutrality didn't mean to do nothing and let the world burn and the demons take over; it meant to punish the miscreant and give pleasure and encouragement to those who started the long and arduous road back to the spiritual world.

Krishna once punished his own son, Pradyumna, with leprosy for seducing his numerous stepmothers. And yet, the same Lord also accepted the evil witch Putana as His nursed after she'd fed him her poisonous breast milk.

After killing her old body, he was but a mere five days old at the time too.

It was quite the pastime, one that needed more than a few paragraphs in fanfiction to fully glorify. Isabeau's carnelian eyes grew wide as her cheeks turned pink in shame. It was obvious that she had never considered the full extent of calling Bhagavan Father.

"W-well… He's too old; I am certain he's as senile as Mr. Pullman describes him. Besides, we humans have no need for him anymore. We are intelligent enough to know what is right."

"Do we?" Flynn asked with raised eyebrows. "Look at the dome. I had to sacrifice my life to have a deity make a celestial vault out of his bones, all because humans decided they wanted to play gods and demons while the pious one told them it was a bad idea. The world—the true world—is a mess because of the greedy demons fighting over any and all resources they can use to fatten up their wealth. All the while blissfully ignoring that Fortune is the Lord's wife and that at every moment, the chaste Lakshmi will send her maid-servant Durga to beat them up black and blue. What to say about the goal of this human form of life?"Now truly incensed, the Avatar of Sri-Hari jumped to his feet. "Isabeau, why are you fighting? What are you living for? What is the goal of human life?"

Isabeau also went to her feet, her body tense and ready to fight. "I fight for freedom and equality; I fight for justice, love, and a future free of the gods' slavery, and you did too!" the lady samurai declared. "And the goal of human life is to learn and to be better."

"Why?" Flynn interrupted. "Death awaits you; what will all the things you earned through mistakes, suffering, and trials get you? So, without the Gods and their land, the eternal soul has no shelter to go after a pious life, so why be pious in the first place? Why the effort? Why the hard struggle when joy in this world is practically impossible to find? For fuck sake, Isabeau, I'm not asking you to surrender to my master if it's too hard for you. At least stop denying his existence. Better yet, why don't you stop trying to justify and praise a life lived like an animal without a goal or a reason? And how about stopping the whole God-hating trend? Yes, I know, we were taught to fear him, but Krishna... He doesn't want to be feared; he just wants to be loved. And if you can't keep this to yourself, then stay away from me before you do something you will regret."

No, Flynn had no more patience for this type of person. Those who had feared Bhagavan so much did everything in their insignificant power to depower him and render him impotent—a mere illusion to keep the masses on a morally acceptable path.

And now look. Look where it brought them.

One became fanatical, spouting words from scriptures and crapping on the very lives of those who didn't match their level of so-called devotion. Those clowns disgusted the other party so much that anything that resembled piety would be laughed at, derided, and spat upon as they sinned without fear, despite seeing the clear signs that terrible sinful reactions were on their way.

Flynn, being an avatara of the Angriest form of God, the slayers of Demons, could not tolerate it anymore.

But... to smite the hateful masses wasn't what Mahaprabhu, the Supreme personality of Godhead, wanted.

One time, the Golden Lord, in the mood of Lord Narashima-deva, ran out of the house of Shrivasa to kill all the demons after hearing the feats and glory of Himself in his fulmigating form.

Thankfully, Shrivasa managed to stop him, reminding God that his current mission was not to kill the demons but to freely give the love of Godhead to all, even the worst of the demons. For in the most wretched and fallen age of Kali-Yuga, all were of low, unfortunate birth. Selfish demons that merely looked like humans, so to kill all the demons meant to cause the apocalypse before it was time.

Not something Gauranga wanted.

And indeed, the Lord calmed down and apologised for frightening the people of Mayapur, even if, by His amazing act, he removed the sins and their frightful reactions with his anger alone.

Nevertheless, in the age of Kali-Yuga, the Avatara of the age is Sri-Krishna-Chaitania-Mahaprabhu. And his mood is to give salvation, not condemnation.

And thus, the servant avatar of the Golden Avatar would follow in his master's footsteps.

The lion-like samurai got up, not even sending a glance back at where Isabeau had left. He already knew what subject she wanted to broach. And, in other times, it would've been a rather pleasant conversation with Flynn's oldest and most loyal friend.

Not today, it seems.

Nevertheless, more pious souls wanted him. Issachar, Jonathan, and...

Srimati-Radha-Shiyamasunrar Devi Dasi, his God-given wife.

He smiled… Yes, she truly was a good choice. Not that Narayana could fail when he played matchmaker.

Who else but the transcendent Cupid residing in everyone's hearts could make the perfect matchup?

"Now… " Flynn began as he gave a slow blink to the divine Kasha, his future spouse. "Why don't we go and offer salvation to Hikaru and Walter and get out of this place?"

Jonatha looked at his fellow samurai with wide, surprised eyes before a gentle smile fell on his lips. "Spoken like a true man of God... But what will happen to Lady Isabeau? Shan't she put her fear of the Supreme God aside and help us fight?"

Flynn frowned.

"Joe… sometime, no. More often than not, being raised as a god-fearing person will drive you away from him, no matter what. Isabeau is too afraid to even consider it."

The angel frowned. "I see. It is unfortunate that they have raised the good people of Mikado to fear him."

"Nah, the guys y'all are worshipping ain't God. Like, not even close." Radha piped up, her cheeks still dusted with a lovely shade of pink. "That Yahweh dude's a demon, a Japanese demon." She began to explain. "Now, Jap demons trying to be as strong as Semi-Gods usually do so by stockpiling their devouts' prana, their life air, and lifespan, during their prayers and worship. Most people call it faith. But faith ain't currency; faith's basically trust. Now, those assholes will rule by fear, and there ain't none that stick to being nice for long; some do, but... most just grow frustrated as fuck and end up cursing their devout and threatening 'em with famine and pestilence."

"Sounds familiar." Issachar piped up as he rescaled his body. "Hey, Flynn. Remember that time when our village couldn't perform their usual pilgrimage because of this one flood?"

Flynn winced, remembering how many died from the initial disaster and the subsequent food shortage and waterborne illness. "Hard to forget, Isa."

"Yeah, well, those priests at the abbey told us all that, since none of us reached the church in time for the sermon."

"That the Almighty would smite us, and only if a youth from our village would renounce his carnal desire and accept severe penances, then we would be redeemed. The youth had a miserable, if mercifully short, life."

It felt wrong then; it was downright blasphemous now that Bhagavan lived in Flynn's heart in his fully manifested form. He knew that the Lord cried for his individual parts and parcels, suffering untold misery in the material world. Heck, Bhagavan even made a spot in the spiritual world just for crying.

"Anyway, I'd rather we go and save Walter; God only knows what he had to go through." The Samurai shuddered, remembering the ultimate friend of his fellow casulary.

"Indeed, it's time to beat some sense into him." Jonathan declared. "Lady Radha-"

"Radha Dasi, please." Radha Shyamasundara interrupted, her soft, slowly blinking eyes never leaving the Samurai of Eternal Hope.

"Right. After this, let's talk, shall we?"

"Hell yeah… But first, I think I smell some nekomata in heat; I'm going to mess them up. Be right back." She said it with a wink before leafing like the flaming whirlwind she was.

Yes, she was perfect.

"Now, we wasted enough time." Flynn spoke with finality as he drew his bejewelled swords out to cross with his ellows. "God for all!"

"And all for Krishna!" They all declared, like the six transcendental conch shells at the start of the Kurukshetra war.

The blessed Samurai group (and Radha) resumed their trek, missing a princess and praying for her safety despite it all. But as they passed a darkened, corpse-filled alley where demons congregate for an easy meal, Flynn noticed a worrisome sign.

It was a butterfly.

No, not one butterfly. There are many glowing spirit butterflies, as blue as the sky.

The Samurai of True Hope narrowed his eyes, about to enter the alley. It was only for Bhagavan in his heart to tell him no; it was not his duty to deal with this. And that whatever would happen would end in sweetness.

Trusting his Lord, yet permitted to feel the dread at the upcoming...

I may be empowered, but God, I am not... better do my given duty, as imperfectly as it may be, than others' duty perfectly.'

—-

Back at the underground complex, all was calm. Krishna-Kripa had curled up beside Yuki, everything exhausted yet still fearing to wake up alone. Navarre and Nyx stood guard outside, unwilling to let anything in they didn't trust.

In the mortuary, Asahi still watched the body of her dad, waiting for the time when they would have enough fuel to burn the stockpiled bodies.

She was tired, exhausted, and, well,

Bored.

It was funny how, once all the grief and anger were gone, the body didn't seem all that interesting.

'I mean, sure, he was... well, the body was dead, but now... Dad's not here; it's just... a dead body.' Asahi thought glumly, immediately feeling bad about it.

And yet…

She was bored, she was cold, and Nanashi—sorry—Krishna-Kripa had told her no Kasha would come to steal the body. Which was complete bull since, as stated previously, the mortuary was packed full until they got enough fuel to burn all the bodies. The only reason she had to remain to look at the cooling body was because her dad was the boss of Kinshicho. Nothing more, nothing less.

So, since he still had some family left, Asahi had to perform his final duty and start learning how to rule the place.

More tears swelled in her red and puffy eyes. She knew she would be listened to since she was basically riding on her father's coattails until she could prove herself. But unlike her dad, she didn't know how to fight properly, nor was she a good healer.

And, after some reflection, she realised that even the best healer wasn't one at all; it was the demons who healed.

"...I'm useless." She whispered in the cold, dead air of the mortuary, her eyes filling with tears.

Fujiwara had left; something had come up that was that bad. Meaning that she was alone with her own mind for company.

Nanashi's mom had given them a class on the Bhagavad-Gita; Asahi didn't really listen, but something had struck her to the core. The material mind was not a friend; it was a frenemy who would push one to perform abominable acts on numerous pretexts, then bash you for it and make you ignore morality because it's boring, too hard, and you deserve happiness... at the expense of others.

Right now, Asahi could understand a little bit.

Radha had said that Maya's illusion was to have the conditioned soul identify with what it was not. The deepest illusion was to think the body was the self; the deepest illusion was to think that the mind was the self; the illusion was to think that the soul was the same as God while reality was thus: The soul is a part of God, of the supreme and absolute truth; Sri-Krishna. But they were not the same, since Krishna was the supreme enjoyer and they both enjoyed.

Of course, this really was just a scam, since it was common knowledge (among the Vaishnavas) that the one truly enjoying the divine service was not the supreme enjoyer, the recipient of all service and sacrifice (and the shelter of all love), but the ones giving the service, for the nature of love was unalloyed, selfless service.

Kindness and love were their own rewards.

And it was so true that while it was fun to get service from others, serving someone with love was...

Asahi let out a huge yawn, suddenly feeling rather tired from the whole emotional roller coaster.

'Maybe a little nap would do.' Her last tough as she succumbed to the mystical sleep brought upon her by a glowing blue butterfly.

…

The whole of underground Tokyo slept the sleep of the dead as mystical butterflies, save a few souls safely tucked away in Lucifer's domain.

Outside of the world, in a mystical command centre, Mukhara screamed and clawed at the magical walls around her, sealing her from the tragedy.

She knew who was the cause of this.

She thought she was dead.

But this was Kaku Seiga, the wicked hermit notorious for escaping even the most dogged of Yamadutas, and this without any devotion to Bhagavan, not even a thought for Tulasi-devi.

She had waited, like a snake, until all was quiet and Mukhara felt safe.

Then she sprung the trap, locking Mukhara out of the hermitage and locking not only her returned son, her Krishna-Kripa, but Vaishnavas.

Collapsing on the ground, Mukhara raised her damaged hands to the heavens, to the spiritual sky, and, with the desperation only a mother knew, called out to God like a child lost and afraid.

"HARE KRISHNA, HARE KRISHNA, KRISHNA KRISHNA, HARE HARE. HARE RAMA, HARE RAMA, RAMA RAMA, HARE HARE!"