His vision was blurred as was his hearing, but his head was afflicted with a throbbing headache that prevented him from forming even the most basic thoughts. From the neck down he felt almost nothing, an enormous effort even to move a finger as if he had no control over his body. What he could understand was the position in which he lay, left prone on an insufficiently soft surface, his torso slightly tilted upwards. A continuous beep, constant in its intervals accompanied him in his half-sleep together with a dim light above his head. As time passed, noises and flashes became more and more clear and outlined, until the contours assumed their real features in his turquoise eyes.
A little Gabriele woke up in a room that was not his, in a bed that was not his. Around him, he saw machines of which he did not know the name or function, he only knew that various cables were protruding from them that were somehow connected to his person.
In fact, he was covered with these cables and pipes, only later did he realize that he had a mask on his face tied to an elastic band.
In front of his bed two adults, one in a white coat, the other in aqua-green overalls, were discussing something but his hearing was still muffled, preventing him from fully understanding the words that were being said. Gabriele and the lady in overalls exchanged a look in a very fortuitous way, from that moment on the boy saw panic crack her facial expression. Immediately the nurse informed the doctor of the fact and ran out of the room. The remaining woman approached the bed, brushing a lock of dark hair away from her face and lowering to his eye level:
"Hello, Gabriele." She began trying not to appear threatening to the little one, "You'll have a lot of questions to ask, let me dispel any doubts." Gabriele was about to answer, but the doctor was quick to interrupt him in time.
"Don't overexert yourself, your throat needs time to heal from the surgery." She told him.
The boy's eyes widened, first in confusion then in a state of fear that made him tremble. The doctor took note of the matter and immediately tried to reassure him, first of all explaining where he was and what had happened in these hours: "Right now you are in the intensive care unit of the Bambin Gesù in Rome, today is September 27, 2005, and you are not in any kind of danger." The woman particularly marked the last words, which immediately had an effect on the anxiety of the child, in turn calming the adult.
"You'll need to stay here for a few days so we can make sure everything is in order. In the meantime, I need you-" A couple of knocks sent them both turning towards the door. An elderly black man leaned across the door on his cane, greying hair and beard kept short but bushy around the mouth, eyes dark and cold in contrast to his welcoming smile, all dressed in a priestly tunic.
"Father Moses, it's not visiting hours at the moment."
"My apologies, Doctor," he spoke in a deep voice, "but when I learned that a tragedy has shattered one of the families in my parish, I felt compelled to pay him a visit." Slowly the man approached, Gabriele followed him with his gaze as he took a chair and moved it close to the bed before sitting down.
"My boy, tell me how do you feel now?"
"He has just had very delicate surgery on his larynx and trachea, Father." The doctor interjected, "The gash, fortunately, did not affect the apparatus to require a tracheostomy, the vocal cords instead are almost irreversibly compromised." The priest nodded, understanding the reason behind the highly sought-after words in such a way that the child did not understand the seriousness of what had happened, although it was useless to hide something of such an impact. For real, how long do they think they can keep a four-year-old put before he tries to speak? Before he cries his heart out at the realization that no sound will ever leave his throat ever again?
"However we encountered an oddity in the operating room, we were expecting a fresh wound but as we cleaned up the dried blood before surgery, the gash was in an advanced state of healing as if it had been weeks and not hours. It doesn't make sense, a wound like this proves to be lethal before it reaches this stage... it's a-"
"A miracle." Father Moses answered, his hands resting on the top of his cane as a smile crept between his lips.
"Where you see an inexplicable phenomenon, I see irrefutable evidence of the Holy Father's mercy towards his flock." The priest turned to Gabriele, "My boy, the Lord dispenses favors without asking for anything in return, but it is intrinsic with the human soul the innate instinct to reciprocate his gift by making the most of the opportunity that he, in all his benevolence, has given us." He laid his right hand on the boy's shoulder, Gabriele was washed over with a sense of warmth and thoughtfulness dissipating through the elder's palm. A first in his short life, a gesture not encased in cold plastic and even colder stares, coming from a person of whom he had no recollection.
"A miracle has blessed you, my dear child. The Lord will wait eagerly for what you would do about it."
One two, dodge, liver punch, parry the incoming left hook, kick the side of the right knee, left, and right uppercut.
Gabriele's opponent fell to one knee under his blows, his bare torso bearing painful bruises all over, his face swollen, so much so that he couldn't see from his left eye. He raised his hand in concession, hoping for an act of mercy as he stumbled away from him, only to be met with bare knuckles hitting him square across the jaw. As the body dropped limp on the ground, loud shouts of protests flooded the arena, mainly coming from those who sponsored the opponent's rise in rank. The elder Seraphim presiding the fight was quick to shush the voices down, conceding the victory and thus promoting the fifteen-year-old Gabriele into the Virtues choir. The teen's face didn't break into any kind of expression or emotion, he thanked the elderly man and unceremoniously left the arena. Once inside the locker room, he let the water run over his scrapped fists, blood staining it red as it went down the sink.
It was done, now with the new rank more commissions should come his way.
It annoyed him to a certain degree these fistfights of promotion matches, they're so pointless and time-consuming. To make him brawl a grown man twice his age stuck in the same rank for longer than he had been an exorcist, just to have access to more missions? Pathetic, they should see the amount of work he had done in less than a year, that only should suffice. Gabriele smashed the faucet shut, the only source of noise now left in the locker room was his erratic breath, struggling to calm down. His turquoise eyes stared at his wounded knuckles pouring more blood as he gripped the sides of the sink, he needed to get his mind off for the day. After a quick shower, the newly appointed Virtue wrapped his hands in bandages, put on his uniform and promptly made his way out of the building. It wasn't long before Gabriele found himself crossing the plaza of Saint Peter's Basilica, the imposing architecture symbol of the Catholic Church at its highest peak of political authority during the 1500s, ever so radiant under the blissful light of sunset. While tourists would stay in awe for such a sight, for the exorcist was such a common scenery it didn't have the same effect on him anymore.
He finally reached a small chapel, far from the public eye and the clangor of the city. Pushing the entrance open, careful to not make too much noise for whoever was praying inside during the evening service, the exorcist stood by the side watching a familiar elderly priest celebrate the function.
"In the name of the Father, of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost, Amen. The Mass has ended, may you go in Peace." Father Moses announced, the few followers spread around the benches took their leave one by one until only he and Gabriele were left. The priest soon noticed the teenager from afar, "Gabriele, my son." He greeted him with open arms, the youngster sought to jog down the nave to close the gap so that the old man wouldn't run out of breath. The two shared a warm hug, then the black man held the teen's head in between his hands, his glance beaming with pride and love.
"It's hard to believe you were that little child I met at the hospital now, look at you." Father Moses said, inviting the now taller exorcist to sit on the bench beside them.
Gabriele helped the elder down on the bench, he had insisted in the past to the priest that he should take his health more seriously, but thus far he only managed to let him do the paperwork on his behalf, while for the rest of his duties, he was too stubborn to let go, to the point he accused the young man of trying to take his fun away. Father Moses then caught sight of the hands dressed in red-tinted gauze, a frown appeared on his face: "I don't want to imagine what his face looks like if your fists are in these conditions. Did he anger you?" Gabriele at first avoided his question, looking the other way. After a few seconds, he turned to face the priest again and began signing his thoughts free.
"So he was only a means to blow some steams off, correct? What was it then that upset you so much to beat a man's face to a pulp?"
Silence again, followed by a very long "rant", Gabriele looked like a flooding river with his hands, perhaps too fast for the man, who gently asked him to slow down a bit. Once he got the full picture of the situation, Father Moses spoke to him: "I'm sorry to hear that the visit went worse than usual, but you must understand this. Your mother does not hate you, Gabriele, but she's still haunted by what happened 10 years ago and right now she avoids anything that's even remotely inherent to that tragic incident, including the face of her greatest creation." He put his hand on the young man's shoulder who was staring absently into the void, deep in thought.
"Guilt is a relentless and famished predator that feeds off one's misery. What Agnese needs is time and help, and you're doing a good job by staying by her side through the process but you have to let her come to terms with her guilt at her pace."
Gabriele immediately signed his concern.
"You're doing enough. You're an amazing exorcist, keeping everyone protected from curses and heathens alike. It won't be long before you'll be chosen to be an Empyrean and begin swordsmanship training." He said proudly, attempting to hearten the moody teenager but not succeeding in particular. "Join me in prayer." Father Moses requested out of nowhere, taking Gabriele by surprise. Nevertheless, the exorcist obliged. Both of them tilted their heads downward, the elder closed his eyes while the teen, perhaps still shaken about the day in general, kept them wide open. In the silence of the empty church, the priest began his prayer:
Blessed Michael, archangel,
defend us in the hour of conflict.
Be our safeguard against the wickedness and snares of the devil
(may God restrain him, we humbly pray):
and do thou, O Prince of the heavenly host,
by the power of God thrust Satan down to hell
and with him those other wicked spirits
who wander through the world for the ruin of souls.
Gabriele was shaken awake from his daydream, The Empyreans were standing next to him one on each side. Together with them, there was an auxiliary manager, the same who came to Kyoto and, unbeknownst to him, delivered the angel straight into the spires of his abductors. His dark eyes let out a hint of fear and tension behind the lenses, reflecting well the kind of atmosphere that weighed upon their heads in this uncharacteristically desolated street in the proximity of down-town Tokyo. in the two months he had been here, Gabriele has never seen the city so... empty... devoid of life. "The curtain has been cast over the commercial district of Shibuya at 7 pm. In the name of the Tokyo Metropolitan Curse Technical College, we thank you for your aid in this delicate moment." Kimura informed the three exorcists, "From what we know, the curtain only traps the civilians inside. Jujutsu sorcerers, as well as auxiliary managers, like myself, can come and go as they wish."
"What about us?" The masked Empyrean asked.
"Well we're not certain, but it is most likely that you too are able to get through. However, there's no reception within the curtain, the only way to communicate with the other teams is to get outside or through me." At the mention of the other teams, Gabriele felt a pang of sadness strike his heart. It has been a rough week since his higher-ranked comrades arrived in Tokyo, they forced him to move away from Jujutsu High into some refuge in the outskirts. All forms of connections with the outside world were restricted, contacts silenced and devices sequestered. It felt like being in the Monastery all over again, and the exorcist's mental health was heavily impacted.
"At the moment all teams are on standby, instructed to be placed around the perimeter in case some curses should escape. As per the request of the authorities, only Satoru Gojou has entered the curtain."
"That's fine by me." the Empyrean responded, "We will wait here until further notice." the two Empyreans sat down, legs folded on the rough asphalt, blessed rosaries in hands as they fell deep in prayer. Gabriele got on his left knee in front of his superiors, his mind gripped by a question that tormented him all these days.
"How did Father Moses die?" he asked the two. The broader Templar raised their head
"Archangel Moses suffered a stroke in the night between the 27th and 28th of September. He passed away the next morning in his hospital room." They revealed, precise, as if they didn't want to waste any more breath on the matter.
"A just death for the likes of a coward such as him." The exorcist fell into what felt like a downward spiral, his vision losing saturation as reality sunk in within the depth of his soul. He didn't utter anything, nor a wisp of air escaped his lips. His eyes were getting dry from the lack of blinking as he finally found the strength to voice his emotion: "Why nobody told me about this?" Was all he could say, however, the Empyrean responded right away.
"We didn't want you to be distracted from your mission, Seraph. This is after all your act of confirmation."
"Father Moses wasn't just a mentor and master to me..." Gabriele said, the string of thoughts came out quivering, brooding in the betrayal-fuelled anger. He was a man who guided him throughout his journey as an exorcist, and the parental figure that the human side of him yearned for his entire life.
"His death will matter no longer once you'll wear Judith's mask, as for any blasphemous bond you made in this godforsaken land." The masked person calmly conversed, descending in a completely reasonable explanation for their way of thinking. Being an exorcist meant renouncing access to the afterlife beyond the pearly gates in order to watch over the Lord's flock, but being an Empyrean is the most selfless form of martyrdom. Nor Heaven nor Hell, your former self forgotten as well as your past, condemned to wander in a Limbo of pure darkness shall the time come. It is to serve the Almighty with your all being, to stain your soul with the most heinous sins so that humanity can shine brighter. The faceless monsters of God. Gabriele wanted to bark back, but in front of him was like an impenetrable wall, the only thing he could was grit his teeth and turn the other way. The time called for patience and the exorcist had nothing to do but stare at the moon slowly rising in the starless horizon over the pure darkness of the curtain, clueless of what Fate had in store for him.
The bloodiest night of his life was about to begin.