The crunching of gravel followed the two siblings as they stepped onto the field. One carried an oversized duffle bag cluttered with every step, while the other had nothing on them.

They stopped in their tracks, looking around to see if anyone was around. The coast was clear, and the elder instructed the other to sit down.

"Alright," Mors dramatically shouted as she tossed the bag onto the grass. Bell looked over right as it landed with a crunch on the ground. The rattling of various objects was clearly heard. Hopefully, none of them were active with any triggers or the like.

"So, we don't quite know whatcha powers do. But we do know you are awakening them. That means I gotta getcha ready for any future encounters with Demons."

She spoke with comical enthusiasm, enhanced by her accent. Reaching behind her back, she pulled out a clipboard and pen. While she began to write something down, she continued.

"To start, what can you tell me about Demons, hermano?"

"Well… they're big and scary." Bell was pondering about all he knew regarding Demons. Digging up past knowledge was no small task, especially regarding things he'd learned at the age of 12. Stutters and 'uhms' abound before he gets back on track. "They don't age, they run off of blood—"

Mors holds up her hand to stop him from continuing, a slight look of disappointment decorating her face.

"No. Demons don't run off of blood. They run off of emotions. Blood's just like a sort of dessert to them."

He raises his hand to ask a question, and Mors nods to allow him to speak.

"But what about me?"

"You technically don't run off of blood," she answers with a hint of unsureness. "Sure, it allows your healing factor to kick in and heal ya, but you don't need to consume it to survive. Heck, we don't even know how your healing factor works yet. It's just that blood seems to be the only way to rev it up." A quick scribble and she finishes with, "Plus, it's not perfect."

Bell looks down at the ground and remembers his injuries. The Frog's tongue had stabbed into his gut, and while it didn't do much damage, it still caused discomfort from time to time. Some slight scarring was left, but it still needed healing time.

"Just be lucky you have a healing factor of some kind. Not every Demon gets that luxury."

Bell blurted in confusion, "But I thought you said Demons could heal their wounds?"

The elder sibling looks down in astonishment. Sure, it had been four years since she had taught him this, but to think that he'd misremember things so badly is just incredible.

"Not all Demons have a healing factor. In fact, as a general rule of thumb, I'd say that a quarter of Demons have a healing factor of some kind. The rest just wing it. That's why you gotta either go for the head or center of mass." That was another markdown.

"You know what- forget about this." Mors tosses the clipboard onto the ground and just gives a smile. "Screw the written exam, let's just see your physicals!" She digs into the duffel bag before she brings out two boxing gloves. With a great effort, she chucks the big red gloves at Bell's head, him barely reacting to how much force was in that toss.

"Get ready. We're going to work on your CQC." In that same breath, a bone stretches out of her wrist. It extended out a good few feet before her hands clamped down and snapped. With the end sealing itself up, she wields her Bone Bo-Staff.

"Uhhh… Why do you get a weapon?" Bell chimes, and Mors chuckles.

"Well, once we know what you can do, then we'll train you in a kind of weapon. For you, use your fists."

With a step, Mors approaches Bell in a really casual manner. The younger sibling panics and quickly wraps on the red gloves. He follows suit with a quick strut, building up enough momentum through his movement before reeling back and throwing a fast right hook. In that same vein, though, he feels a hard object press against the back of his neck.

"Hit."

Looks like this needs a little more pep. Bell circles around, dashing left and right. With each dash, he threw out multiple jabs, all of which were deflected by rapid strokes of the staff.

"Don't just throw an unnecessary amount of punches without any consideration." The tone was a mix of condescension and gentleness. Something Bell quickly picked up on. He reeled back, shifting as much power into his shoulder as possible, and slung a downward strike that was, once again, blocked. The first and Bo clashed for a brief moment before Mors broke it up and quickly delivered a punch to the gut. Bell was sent backward onto the ground with a bit of a nasty tumble.

"Hit." Mors looks on as Bell holds her stomach for a bit from the shock of the punch. "Are your legs still working?

Bell grips on the grass to level his legs. Pants were leaving his mouth to recover any few drops of stamina he might have gone. With some strain from aching muscles, he slowly rose up again as he dashed side to side, taking a leap into the air to slam his fists onto the ground. There's a slight kick up in dust from the impact, with Mors already away from the crater, her arm arched up to bring her staff down. At the same time, Bell is about to return the favor with a fast uppercut with all of the will he could muster in that fist. Just as his fist honed in with a few inches of her face, Bell felt the slow but firm prodding of a bone on his forehead.

"Hit. Strike Three. Yer out!" Bell exhales before plopping down on his butt. "Heya, you did 2.5 seconds better than last time. Stand proud."

"Is it even good enough? I can't even land a single hit on you, even after all this training. At this rate—"

Mors pats him on the shoulder and offers him a pat on the head. "Hey, you're not done yet. We can still go until the sun is down. You can do a lot in a couple of hours. Now, let's tango!"

And so, the two clash. Bell would keep trying and trying until he can finally land a hit. Even if it takes him all day to do so.

Shibuya Metro Station

- Several Hours Ago –

Two people, a man and a woman, maneuvered through the crowded platform. The downside to a metro station, even if it made getting around the country easy, was that everyone would be using it. Especially today. People were packed together like sardines, bumping into each other, excuses being slung around that they practically mixed into the air they breathed.

The couple was struggling to make any progress, a tide of bodies just knocking them back by feet. The horde wasn't giving them any leeway, to the point where even slight hesitation would fling them all the way back.

With as much force they could combine, the farthest they could make it was halfway across the platform, right by the bathroom. When they slipped out from the flood, they were panting and sighing from the exhaustion that was brought upon them. Shockingly, there was barely anyone walking in or out of the bathroom despite the onset of people walking by. The atmosphere was eerie, to say the least, but it didn't set off any alarms with the couple as they stood there to take a quick rest.

"There are so many people…how are we supposed to reach the train at this rate?" The man panted out as he slid down onto his butt. The girl, meanwhile, held her hands on her knees, trying to regain her breath.

"We can… do it… we have about… 10 minutes until the train arrives. Hold on… I need to… use… the restroom…"

"What?! Already?" Even through his exhaustion, he sounded slightly ticked off.

"Sorry… I shouldn't have drank that 4 Liter of soda on the way here." The girl gave a cute smile to try to calm his anger. It might as well have worked since, through the frustration, he just tells her to go and be quick about it. She slinked off into the ladies room to do her dirty work; this shouldn't take too long.

The man sat there for a couple minutes, even after gaining his breath back. He would patiently wait every minute for his darling to return, but even after a good 5 minutes, she hadn't come out of the bathroom. Was that soda really strong?

Just then, a horrible shriek rang out from within the crowd. The man's ears perked up as women sobbed in agony, shouting something along the lines of "My Son! No! Please, no!" That noise was enough to silence the murmurs of the passengers, with the flow of people eventually stopping and directly themselves to see what was going on.

The man was concerned as well, and he inched closer to the women's bathroom. He shouted for his honey to come out and said that there was an emergency. However, no response. Was she not able to hear anything? The shriek alone was enough to draw the attention of a crowd of people; no way she couldn't have heard that. He kept calling for her until he eventually mustered the might to walk into the room. He could get in trouble for this, but it was better to risk the wrath of the law to make sure she was safe.

He took a step into the bathroom, and nothing looked too off. Clean and well-kept, it was like it was brand new. Each inch just outlined how eerie it was, with no one else being there. Like the feeling of seeing a clean finished plate: Sure, it looked nice, but there was that feeling of false cleanliness.

He tried to call out again, but still no response. Eventually, he starts opening doors, trying to find where she is. The first door had nothing behind it. Now, the next one, he could see legs from the bottom of the stall. Same leggings she had worn today. Same shoes, too. Maybe she was asleep. But through all this noise? No, something's not right.

With a good dash in, he comes across her body, lying lifeless against one of the stall's walls while sitting on the toilet. Immediately, he rushes over to feel for a pulse. His fingers touch her cold, pale skin with blue veins and eyes whitened as if she had been strangled. From her mouth, a stream of near-pitch black blood leaks out onto the floor. It takes too long to feel the faintest pulse, and he fumbles with his hands to grab ahold of her body. Right as he picked her up, another shriek could be heard from outside. Then another. Then another. Then, 10 more.

Seconds later, when the man rushes outside the bathroom, a dozen bodies lay on the platform, in a similar condition to that of his girlfriend, some even paler, some with blood oozing out of their pores, and somewhere in a pool of a black liquid. Panic was ringing out, and the clattering footsteps of people scattering and bumping into each other overwhelmed every sensation.

Adrenaline kicked in as the man raced to the steps of the station to get to safety. It didn't matter if he bumped into someone or even stepped on someone by accident. All that was on his mind was getting her to a doctor. There was a chance she could be saved. There had to be. He could feel a pulse and everything. She must be alive. She must be alive. She must be… alive.

- Present Day –

Moonlight rains down on the blood-stained grass. The Horseman of Death stood over her brother. Bruises decorated his body. All that pain numbed his body, so much so that he was lying flat on his back facing the sky. Shredded muscles and fractured bones felt no different than the light breeze that brushed against his body.

Mors kneels down to face her barely conscious sibling. A head shake notes her disappointment. The bone staff retracts back into her body in an instant. She digs through the duffle bag, reaching for a blood bag. A finger pries his mouth open to accept the stream of blood. When it's done, it closes right back up with a distant gulping sound. Seconds later, Bell is sitting upright, bones still cracking in their incomplete state of healing.

She spins back to meet her brother with the goofiest smile she can concoct. It was like a duck with human teeth trying to smile. "A 5-second speed increase. Wonderful." She gives him a pat on his head. A smile gleams through before a grunt comes out to the counter. Mors immediately backs off to give her brother some breathing room.

"Yay…Puts me one step closer to being on your level." Bell doesn't even sound cheerful, just in pain. He'd just pushed himself to the limit, and even then, it wasn't enough to even graze his sister.

Mors picks him up, instructing him to wrap his arms around her waist. He, of course, obeys. His head pressed itself against her shoulder, and for the first time today, comfort ran through his body as if it were the blood in his veins. The ruffling of a duffle bag was followed by the crunch of the ground. All he could see before his eyes got heavy was a faint gleam akin to a smile before exhaustion took him over. The last thing he heard was:

"Hmm. Cute."