(Since I know this has become a more widespread matter in fanfiction since the last time I uploaded, here's an opening statement: no generative AI was, is or will be used to make this story. I take my inspiration from words picked out with *intent*, a sentiment the machine that arranges words into a pattern is not capable of.)

God's Plan - Overture

The world is veiled in darkness. The wind stops, the sea roars, and the earth begins to rot. The people wait, their only hope, a prophecy…

"When the world is in darkness, Three Warriors will come…"

Wait, stop, that's Terminal Fantasy. Put that retro console away, where's the script… Perhaps this one? Ahem.

Triplets born, the throne await,

A seer warns of a deadly—

Ah, no, that's not it either. Who printed this, actually? Wasting paper like that is no good for the environment, you know. Now let's see… Ah, here it is, the Wedding Ballad of the Prince of Darkness. Let's start from the beginning now, everyone. First movement:

To be fashionably late is not for the faint of heart. It means to know the best time to arrive for maximum effect, so that your presence gathers the scattered attention on a single dazzling point of interest, that being oneself, of course. Not only that, it is a must to have the perfect outfit, after all, it's the first impression that counts. How can one be the life of the party, the centre of attention, without dressing the part?

It's easy to debate about timing. It is measurable, after all, and possible to escalate to most situations where one would wish to be fashionably late. The fashion part is where science and art get to have a fling, and it's one's job to decide when to upgrade their relationship to friends-with-benefits or leave it as a one-night stand. No two events are the same, and trying to reuse a look drastically reduces its efficacy, unless there can be absolutely no overlap between the guests.

Luckily for our rowdy trio of misfits, this was definitely one of the times where the no overlap rule was in effect, for none of them had ever attended a ball hosted by the Prince of Darkness Hazama, nor visited his Realm of Terror before, so there was no chance of losing efficacy in their late arrival.

Unfortunately, as nothing can ever be so simple, they lacked the opportunity to change into proper fits, following the… sudden invitation. Only Rachel Alucard was remotely dressed for the occasion, and she wasn't so willing to explain away the ragged look of her manservant, nor the indecency of that vile spectre. Therefore, they had no other choice but to first arrive fashionably late at the tailor.

On the foot of the Prince of Darkness' great palace was a quaint little village, lit up by magical, Ishana-inspired street lamps and floating pumpkin-shaped festival lamps. Its streets were brimstone, and its buildings oozed medieval Europe fantasyland, making the trio's mismatching getup even more out of place.

Rachel Alucard led the way, making a show of each and every step for the sake of pissing off the bossy shade in particular, and annoy the tired man as a consequence. Going through a narrow alley, their visages reflected on glass displays of closed shops, passing by tomes of dark magic, skulls decorated with shiny gemstones, black cauldrons, staffs for magical girls and magical grown women alike, and, in a still open pet shop, tiny poison dart frogs that just failed short of challenging Terumi to a competition of eye-catching colours.

After this little detour, the trio ended up in a small square, where their quest's first objective stood proudly, if a little shaggy: "The Tantalizing Tailor, a Treat for all your Tricks!" read the plaque just above the sign of "OPEN".

The petite vampire princess opened the doorway of destiny, making a soft bell ring in the dark insides of the building. Almost at the same time, from the depths of the shop, there was a loud thump, and a pained "Ouchie!"

Truly, a sign of great things to come. "Hey, man, you okay?!"

"Crap, I prickled myself…!" the first boyish voice answered.

"Ah!" the second young voice exclaimed.

"What, what?!"

"You don't think this spinning wheel…" there was a dramatic pause, "that one…?"

"No way!" cried the first boy. "I'm too young to get cursed! What if I can't bake anymore, who's gonna make Jinjin's birthday cake! Oh, no, it's a disaster…!"

"Calm down, dude, calm down! I'll go get the boss and…" the young man soon appeared from the small room behind the counter, and just as quickly let out a yelp. "Ah! Since when!?"

The three red eyes and two green ones stared him (and his high-school uniform) down with low hopes. "Boy, we have come to order garments for the Prince's ball," Rachel Alucard declared, hardly fazed by his hurried look. "If you may."

To make her point a bit more poignant, and because he really liked being a nuisance, Terumi also rang the tiny bell over the counter for good measure. *Ring* "I-I'm terribly sorry, but we're closed…"

"Not what the sign says, pal," the shade replied with the usual pleased smile, *Ring* ringing the bell again.

The second boy peeked out from the door on the back, just in time to see his orange-haired friend scowl at him. "Dude, you didn't lock the door?!"

*Ring* The darker-skinned boy widened his eyes in a guilty face. "My bad, Akiaki."

"'My bad' doesn't cover it! We're not supposed to…!" *Ring* he sighed, turning back to the unimpressed customers. Ragna the Bloodedge's gaze was the kinder one, understanding of his anxious reaction, so it was to him that the boy answered. "We're extremely sorry! We're just interns who forgot to close up shop! We don't have the qualifications to make new outfits!"

*Ring* "We can fix you up something already finished, if it's okay."

"Taro!"

"What," *Ring* Taro frowned. "They came all the way here already, *Ring* it's just not right to let 'em leave empty-handed, right?" he opened a bright smile, too pure for the mainline games. "C'mon, Akiaki, we can do it! *Ring* If it's just a few patches, it's okay!"

"That's not—" *Ring* *Ring* *Ring* "Can you stop doing that!"

"Hey, hey, is that how you're supposed to treat a customer, pal?" Terumi *Ring* replied *Ring* as *Ring* he played *Ring* with *Ring* the bell *Ring* *Ring* *Ring* *Ri—* "Ah."

Until the Man of the Azure snatched it out of his ethereal fidgety fingers. "Gimme a break," Ragna sighed, turning to the petite vampire. "Rabbit, that's fine with you, right? Let's get it over with, I wanna go home."

"Certainly," she nodded absentmindedly, turning to the boys as Ragna the Bloodedge fought tooth and nail to keep the little bell out of those long spiritual limbs' reach. "We accept your kind offer, boy."

"Cool," the first boy showed a nervous smile as he hesitantly opened the door beside the counter. "Ahem, if you please, ma'am…"

With elegant steps, she walked over to the back of the shop, where the second boy, Taro, scrambled to fix the place for her grand entrance. "Ah, so, right now we got these… You fancy anything in particular?"

"Let's see…"

The high-school intern closed the half-door, keeping his back to the man and the shadow's debauchery. He did his very best to not notice the sounds of scrambling, of threads rolling out of the shelves and balls of yarn falling to the floor with soft thumps, as well as the subsequently loud slam of a physical body on the floor, and the following mean-spirited laughter. "Hyahah!" *Ring* *Ring* *Ring* *Ring* *Ring* *Ring* *Ri—*

With a noisy screech, something hit his foot from behind. The boy leaned down to grab the bell just in time, and put it safely inside his pocket before finally turning back to the shop's front.

It was, to put it mildly, a mess. "The boss is gonna kill us…"

Three hundred squats as punishment, again. At minimum. Akira Kamewari sighed, not sure if he was spending his spring age in the right way. "Women love delicate men", sure, but maybe girls liked the guys who actually spent time with them more than the ones with fancy hobbies.

Lost in thought, he didn't even notice the blazing neon green dot staring him down from within a shadow of spite and condensed hatred. "So," the nasal voice of the being who did not possess such features brought the young teen back to the present. "You gonna show us the goods or what?"

Like he had a choice. "Sure. What you're thinking?"

Being faced once again with an utter lack of respect for his divine being, Terumi replied with as much weight as his feather-light being could muster. "Oh, how about enslaving the thrash and have them wail and cower before Me, their rightful ruler, as I pulverize every piece of the things they hold dear in an endless loop of despair?"

Faced with the wrath of a being beyond saving or comprehension, the high-school boy blinked slowly. "Wanna try out a cravat, then?"

Terumi stared the boy down, his shapeless, simplistic face twisting in emotions too vile to describe.

"The boss recently made some striped and rainbow ones too."

The shadow of a man leaned in, inches away from the boy's skin, his terrible presence engulfing every bit of breathable air inside the shop with the dread inherent to his un-fashionable existence, and uttered the ultimate statement. "It's not gonna hold on my neck."

"Never know until you try."

"Oh, I know," Terumi scoffed, leaning back to cross his overly long arms. "And cravats are so 2167. I wouldn't be caught dead in those tacky things."

"Luckily you're not exactly alive anyway," Ragna the Bloodedge, who had spent all of this riveting conversation untangling himself from colourful threads so he could stand up again, pushed the shade away with his shoulder. "Yeah, we're trying the cravats. All of them. Bring them up, kid."

"Sure thing, sir."

Seeing the boy nod and walk off to the corner, the dramatic phantasm leaned on the Man of the Azure with somewhat of a pleased look to his four-expression face. "Oh, so you wanna dress me up for the occasion, Ragna-kun? Never expected you to think of me so much. Well, actually, I do know you think of Me all the time, but in this way too~?"

"Anything that shuts you the hell up for at least one minute works in my book," Ragna replied, readily slapping off the ethereal hand that crawled up to mess with his hair. "Besides, who knows, maybe the stars align and this new look puts you in a less annoying mood."

"Oh, yeah, sure. It's gonna have to be the best cravat known to man and beast to even have a shot at that."

Akira stopped their talk short by slamming a box over the counter, so tall only a bit of his messy orange hair peeked out from behind it. "Then, dear customer, we better start trying them out."

The salvaging process was an astounding success, as Relius Clover concluded in his completely unbiased report of his own actions, fully justifying his use of public funds for the Boundary-reaching claw crane. As a job well done, he gave himself a break to appreciate the moment as well as the coffee Terumi's old vessel kindly brewed to celebrate this unlikely reunion.

To imagine this old thing would remain in such great shape after Terumi callously lost it to a simple falling out between the Six Heroes (which were already four Heroes by the time of the happening, a tale better left for the non-localized Light Novels)… Even the genius scientist and mage Relius Clover was a bit surprised by his own craftsmanship. He admired the fine details, quite pleased, though of course it didn't show in his stoic masked face.

"Um, excuse me, sir. If I may," Terumi's original vessel spoke, adjusting his dull glasses. "I think there's been a mistake?"

Relius dismissed the vessel's silly remark. "You're merely disoriented, it's only natural."

"No, but, I mean," Terumi's original vessel ran his fingers through his short jet black hair. "Aren't you that famous researcher, Relius Clover?"

"So you know of me?" Relius Clover almost showed a reaction, though it was merely caused by human instinct in response to flattery, something he could still not rid himself of with the current advancements of technology. "I assume Terumi filled you in while you were together."

"Um, no, sir? We met? At Sector Seven? I'm Lotte Carmine."

Perhaps only the exterior was sturdy enough to survive unscathed. "Your memories must have been mixed up while inside the Boundary. Not to worry, it's a fixable issue."

"No, no, no, sir, I'm confident the mix-up is entirely on you…!"

With a small sigh, Relius Clover put away his cup and got up. "I was going to perform a few integrity tests first, but you seem in decent state, so perhaps it's best that we meet up with Terumi right away. Surely, the sound of his enthralling voice shall bring back remembrances."

"As I said, you got the wrong person. I don't even know who that is."

Given the fact Relius Clover was a perfect specimen of humankind who had never, in every second he graced with his living presence, made a singular mistake, this nonsensical rambling was very much out of the realm of possibility. Therefore, he had no plans to entertain it. "Phantom."

"Wha—Whoa!" the vessel built to bind Terumi to this mortal realm jumped, startled by her entrance. "What the fu…"

"Phantom, take us to him."

The door was slammed open by her imposing 1.75m tall figure. "Taro, Akira, why is the shop still open? You two were supposed to…" the tan woman stopped on her tracks, one hand over her large muscular thigh, admiring the sorry state of affairs. Between the last-minute customers, the squabble that scattered sewing utensils far and wide, and now a collection of colourful cravats with which a shade in the shape of a man tried to choke a man in the shape of an annoyed spiky-haired bad boy hero, it was quite a lot to take in. "Boys!"

Heeding her call, Akira Kamewari immediately straightened his back and saluted her, while still one-handedly trying to get the cravats back. "Yes, Bullet, ma'am! We're sorry, ma'am!"

"Taro!"

With a noise that sounded suspiciously like a dropped pan, the second boy poked his head out from the back of the shop. "Yes chief! A lil' busy here with a customer, chief!"

"Three customers? The ball officially starts in an hour, just what were you fellows doing?!" Bullet questioned their life decisions in a commanding tone, slamming the door closed and stomping over to the troublesome duo. "Stop your squabbling, customers, this is a serious issue! Now, let go and get back on your feet!"

The two very confused customers readily obeyed. Ragna the Bloodedge, out of relief, for finally having some semblance of a future plan (and also having his neck freed from a collection of mismatched cravats). And Terumi, out of curiosity for how to best annoy the bossy woman before him, for he was not a being of compliance.

"That's better! Now, what are you here for?"

She asked Ragna, once again because he seemed the most reasonable of the two, which didn't agree with the vengeful shade one bit. "Huh, clothes?"

"Yes, you wouldn't be buying kitchenware at a tailor," Bullet retorted, not aware of the concept of a supermarket, as they wouldn't fit the aesthetic of this realm. "My question is what are your needs, what are your places in this event, though from a glance I suppose it's obvious. Were your uniforms damaged or lost?"

Ragna eyed Terumi, though only for lack of a better target. The man-shaped shade sighed affectedly, pointing at the glowing green mass in the condensed darkness that passed for his chest. Finally, the room's attention was where it should be: on his sexy lacking boobs. "Does this answer your question, lady? Who the hell are you, anyway, bossing people around."

"Oh, sorry, you come to my tailor and don't know who I am? I assume you must be some more looneys from the neighbouring kingdom," hands on her generous, muscular thighs trained in the perilous ways of crushing bone and firmly holding yarn balls, the tailor shop's boss also sighed, though far more sincerely than Terumi could ever emulate. "Akira, status report!"

"Yes, ma'am! I was showing them the cravats while Taro took care of the little lady in the back… wait, that came out wrong."

"And how dire is the lady's situation?"

To answer that, Akira simply turned around and filled his lungs before inquiring. "Hey, Taro! How are we cooking back there?!"

"Eh?" with some soundly difficulty and the cracking of shattered glass, Taro once more peeked back into the entrance, confused. "We're supposed to make these edible?"

"Very well," the tailor boss nodded, pleased at the dumbfounded reaction. "Let's finish this quickly. Akira!"

"Yes, ma'am!"

Bullet quickly put away all of the cravats, handing them back to the high school boy. He almost let the box slip, but her intense training was etched into every muscle of his body by this point, so Akira recovered with the grace of a hatchling's first flight. "Off with these, don't you know entertainers aren't to be meddled with? Last time I made a mistake on that cape's neck, which should've been triangular in the first place, but our beloved prince prefers it round… Ahem, what I mean is, no cravats! They are too last century, we clearly need a modern touch here!"

"At least she has some fashion sense…" Terumi declared as if he was one to talk.

"And you, ruffian! Follow Akira to the back," she ordered, beckoning impatiently. "Yes, you, big man, stop staring into the distance, don't you know manservants are to arrive two hours early? Why, if you were under my orders, I'd have you start with one hundred squats to work those weak hips. You better be prepared for a scolding the moment they get a hold of you."

Ragna the Bloodedge was not amused by the woman's assumption. "Manservant?"

"My, it seems our tailor is rather the deductive type," Rachel Alucard remarked from her place unseen, her voice followed by the gentle, pleasant noise of a bubbling cauldron. "We seem to be in great hands."

"And a lower noble too… Just what perfect timing you three had, arriving all together and all equally late," the tailor shop's boss remarked, a hand in her temples. "Now shoo, go on, Akira will show you our uniforms."

"And me?" Terumi was quick to question, not at all pleased to see his one source of amusement being dragged away from his ethereal grasp.

"As I said, an entertainer is not to be meddled with. Don't worry, sir, I know exactly what you need," Bullet remarked, showing a bold smile. "Given your slim waif-like figure, that delicate translucent complexion and an astounding 0.5 waist to hip ratio…"

"Finally, someone sees it."

"…it's clear that the battlefield before me is one to be carefully considered before we charge forward. For a successful siege, we must compliment your sensible features in a way that doesn't intrude in your art. A cravat would obviously not fit that image."

The spectral one couldn't deny he enjoyed the compliments, but he was not above being an ass about it. "And what do you suggest, bossy woman?"

"Naturally…" she turned around, ignoring the mess to grab an item that somehow did not become a causality in the war between tired man and obnoxious shadow. "This."

A snort twisted Terumi's lacking features, though the logistics of it will have to be left for the imagination. "Lady, I'm a bit of a lightweight, if your eyes aren't working."

"No need to fret. This is linen of the highest quality, made from our kingdom's pride, moonray flax, and the embroidery pattern is a special patent of mine. Despite its size, it's as light as a fallen angel's feather blowing in the wind on a moonless night. Surely, it will be to your liking," Bullet declared in a challenge, her eyes burning with the passion of a hobby-turned-job. "Surely."

The singular neon-green gaze shone back at her in mockery. "Yeah, yeah. If that stupid thing sticks to my neck, I'm never taking it off, deal?"

"I'll take your word for it, sir."

"Delivery, meow~ Delivery, meow~"

Tasty food in her full belly and a spring in her steps, Taokaka pranced along, as cats do, getting all over the legs of her non-feline companion like the oversized tripping hazard she was. Hazama was still bitter he could not make a meal out of her fresh insides, why, it'd come pre-seasoned even! But no, Noel Vermillion had to ruin his fun, of course, and not allow him to carry even the bluntest of kitchen knives. Exposed in far too many ways to count, he bravely ventured into the streets to fulfil that stupid delivery.

Of course, it wasn't an action borne out of the inherent goodness of his inexistent heart, for the hollow vessel only had one goal in mind, and it just so happened to align with this boxed meal's path. So, he let his microskirt sway in the wind, let the stupid Kaka girl skip around his person with no regards to guardrail safety, and finally reached… the Kagutsuchi Port.

Unluckily for him, as he'd lost his wristwatch (along with his integrity of self) inside a half-sentient pile of sludge earlier today, Hazama just happened to arrive at the exact moment the last airship began closing his doors. "Wait…" he had the time to utter, watching in disbelief as his last ray of hope was snatched away from him with the loud humming of motors. "No, no, no no nono get back here! Ouroboros!"

The metal snakehead stretched out from the darkness, fangs open in a hunger fuelled by its wielder's growing despair. It gnawed on the airship's railing, shutting its jaw firmly and holding the entire vehicle in place. But not for long.

"Ouroboros!"

Hazama called out all the chains he could summon, and they reinforced the grasp, hanging on tight. Still, as much as he tried, the gap was too wide to cover on high heels, especially for one with no experience wearing such finicky footwear. The empty vessel's makeup once again heeded the call of the floor, this time cold, unfeeling metal, and still it remained uncraked, much like Hazama's façade (frustration tears notwithstanding).

"Is this divine punishment?" he wondered to the floor, the only one who was always there for him in his lowest moments. "Am I supposed to be regretful over having left Terumi-san down in the dumps? How does that even feel like?"

The universe's answer was to have the Kaka girl sit on his back. "Meow!" she exclaimed, bapping his head excitedly, but Hazama had no interest in entertaining a dirty feline's call. "That guy's gonna jump, meow?"

He was slightly more interested in the sound of that, though, so he raised his head just a bit. "Is that…"

Indeed, it was. Wearing a hospital gown in all of its butt-naked glory, the man coldly analysed the situation of the airship through the half-closed door. As the first chain snapped, he acted swiftly, holding out a bedsheet and sliding down the remaining chains as they all failed to contain the urge of the motors to get away from that blasted port. Landing on his feet in a cool motion, the snapped metal snakeheads vanishing into darkness behind his lean figure, the man's icy green gaze met Hazama's hidden one.

He stretched out an ungloved hand. "My dinner."

"Here it is, meow!" the ever so kind Taokaka offered him the box with a large smile, as if it was her life's mission to make this delivery (nevermind that Hazama was the one who carried it all the way up here). "Maha Raja thanks your pawtronage!"

Did he really not recognize Hazama in that stupid outfit, or was the Major simply too famished to give a damn? Either way, the empty vessel didn't know whether to curse his own luck or the entire world in general. At this very moment, he became rather invested in the plan of getting the Yayoi girl to kill this bastard. For business reasons, of course.

Jin Kisaragi leaned against the guardrail, opened the box and promptly scowled.

"I'm vegan."

"Um…" Hazama, finally pushing the darn feline off his back, sat down on the metal floor of the skyport. His exposed sensitive contents accepted this cold fate with grace. "We whipped it up in a hurry, but I'm pretty sure thanks to a certain someone, there was no more meat available to add to this dish anyway?"

Jin Kisaragi huffed, deeply offended by the sight inside the small box. "There's hard-boiled eggs."

Putting on his best business smile, Hazama finally got to show what this specially-crafted, one-of-a-kind makeup job was on his face for. "And what of it anyhow, Major?"

Jin Kisaragi gave him the stinky eye. "This is inedible."

"Oh, my, isn't that a shame? Perhaps if you were a bit more receptive to—"

*CHOMP*

Before Hazama could finish dishing out his thoughts on Major pain-in-the-butt's rudimentary attitude towards the culinary masterpiece that is the hard-boiled egg, a feline beast made her stance clear on the matter, chomping down dinner, box and Jin's left hand in one wide motion of that sharp-toothed jaw.

The icy cold gaze alerted our empty vessel to the danger seething against the opposite guardrail at this very moment, and his response was swift. "I'll order you a pizza."

Taokaka slowly slid off the Major's left hand, moonlight gently caressing the deep marks of her large teeth etched into the pale skin. The man's hand survived the ordeal, if emotionally scarred. The same could not be said for the food's packaging. Still, that was not a troubling matter, after all it is well-known that the Kaka were genetically engineered as a war effort, so it's not too large a stretch to assume their stomachs could deal with micro and macroplastics alike.

Just then, perfectly timed to add to our heroic and brave kniveless Hazama's growing pile of troubles, the cackle of magic filled the empty skyport. On the stairs of the closest boarding zone, three peculiar figures formed from the shadows. One was the ever trustworthy Phantom, who could not betray them even though she wished very much to. Another was Relius Clover, cruel and uncaring man of science, his heavy cape fluttering in the wind with the usual pizzazz.

The last person clearly needed no introductions. "What? What happened? Was this Magic?"

Relius Clover sighed, ever dispassionate, as he walked down the stairs. "One would figure you'd know as much."

"Real Magic? For real?"

If Relius was starting to have doubts about Terumi's old four-eyes vessel, he was not a man to show such weakness of mind to the world. As such, the Colonel merely turned his attention to the younger empty vessel, and a heavily pregnant pause preceded his carefully selected words. "Hazama, where is Terumi?"

"Cursing his luck down in the sewers, most likely, and he won't be missed," Hazama answered, still wearing his best smile, a force of habit more than anything. "Would you join us for pizza, Colonel? I was about to order it."

Relius Clover weighted the situation with a powerful gaze emanating from the dull sockets of his mask. The intensity was far beyond what's needed for this subject matter, even given the revelation of the empty vessel's second job (and newest fashion statement), but also, it had been a while since the Engineering Colonel last cleaned the musk off the lens.

"Oh, that sounds great, I'm starving."

Well, in spite of his continuous string of actions of doubtful legality, Relius Clover was nothing if not a chivalrous gentleman. "Very well, we shall also partake in the… pizza."

"Three pizzas it is, then."

The siblings were in a bit of a pinch.

"Dear brother, we should cut them in half. That would assure our victory."

"For the last time, that's not the way to get rid of the competition!"

Two siblings (and their cat), they shared a tragic story. Their family's pride and single heirloom, the dojo, was all that was left after they were orphaned. Those old cracked walls, filled with childhood memories, would see no students honing their craft, for what meaning was there for a dojo in a place that had no need for the way of the samurai? Their family techniques, passed down the generations, began to rust like the metal bars holding up the ceiling.

And so, they made a pact. They would fix the dojo, bring back the traditions their hometown ought not to forget, and restore their bloodline's pride. The world would know their names, for they embarked in this journey to write them down in history. With that, the two siblings (and their cat) reached this faraway land, following the promises of riches beyond measure, a despicable necessity in such a troublesome trip.

They had come to the Prince of Darkness' night kingdom with one singular goal in mind: to win the wedding ball's ~Groovy, Snazzy, Gnarly Rock Music Competition~! Indeed, this was their chance to woo the crowd, bring fame to their names, and most importantly amass funds for the dojo's reconstruction. The three of them were more than ready, however, there was a small, tiny issue, printed on hard to read words at the bottom of the pamphlet:

*Every band must consist of at least three (3) players: a drummer, a bassist and a guitarist.

And so, they had spent the last week in a futile attempt to slay the beast known as the electric guitar. "It's gonna be alright, I'll just train a bit more, we'll be fine!"

The elder brother was a cheerful personality and a firm believer in the power of hard work and determination. "Dear brother of mine, it would be a waste not to carve our family's swordsmanship into their bodies," his sister was of a different preposition.

"Mew, meow!" Their small feline companion, who donned an orange bow and went by the name of Fluffy Kaka, was currently pawing the drums in an avant-garde show of musical craftsmanship.

"No, no, absolutely not, Saya! Do you wanna stay in time-out at aunt Mei's house again?!"

Sheathing her sword, the young girl played with strands of her own purple hair, deep in thought. "I suppose that wouldn't be helpful to our mission…"

"Exactly! We almost didn't have enough money for the boat ride here, so we can't get into trouble and go back to her place empty-handed again," the elder brother sighed, emotionally defeated as he grabbed hold of the foul beast. "We have to put our all into this song, we're holding out for a miracle here…"

"Mewracle, mewracle!"

"Ah, Fluffy!" he chased after the small Kaka as it hopped around their feet, playing with two small white ribbons. "Stop picking up trash!" quickly ending the kitty's fun, he snatched the paper from her. "What am I gonna do with you…"

"Brother, these are Ofuda."

"Huh?" the boy took a better look at the papers, seeing the strong traces of a handwritten charm. "A summoning talisman…" his face lit up with a nostalgic smile. "Been a while, huh?"

"Perhaps we should make a prayer."

He smiled at his sister's thoughtful suggestion, putting down the guitar. "Yeah, you're right. Come over here. You too, Fluffy," the trio gathered around the slips of paper in his hands, closing their eyes in a solemn wish. "Please, bring us what we need to win this competition."

"To return the Terumi bloodline to its rightful place."

"Lotsa sparkly shinies, meow!"

So they prayed for the fickle deity that moves the wheels of fate. Under that warm yellow light in the castle's dungeon, surrounded by walls of faded grey stone, it was as if every wisp got caught in their sincere wish. Hopes and dreams, for a moment, enveloped the world in a transparent veil of childish joy.

It popped like a bubble. "Eh, you two are still here? At least you're brave," the culprit was none other than the little genius pianist and his entourage. The sight of his smug baby face, always shadowed by that ridiculous top hat, annoyed the elder brother greatly. "Not that it's gonna help you much, if you can't even play."

"Now, now, Carl, we should be nice," as for the little genius violinist's talking companion, her saint-like demeanour awakened the younger sister's bloodlust. "Let's all have fun in the competition together, okay?"

"…" said the tall doll in purple, standing on the right side of the blonde boy.

"…" added the even taller doll in pink, standing on his left side.

The grey doll who accompanied the woman refrained from commenting.

"I suppose it's like my sister says," the little genius saxophonist declared, annoyingly know-it-all. "Good luck to you guys, then. You're gonna need it, if you're that keen on learning the guitar in the next ten minutes."

"Bye-bye, everyone! See you all upstairs."

Mercury⁂Clover, by far the most popular band in this competition. They were a hit on the Hauntology scene, though still retaining a bit of inspiration from Disco, with every album presenting a couple experimental tunes as a homage to their early days. A tight-knit unit, the band began with Nirvana and Celica, who were soon joined by Ignis and Relius Clover as a quartet. Even after the girlfriends broke up, Nirvana (real name Ada Clover, as every true fan knows,) continued to play alongside her parents and her old friend. Soon, the younger brother and genius xylophonist Carl Clover joined in, as well as Celica's new partner Minerva, and as of now the band had enjoyed a pleasant time in the spotlight for a couple of years.

Reliable sources (their eyes) showed that Relius Clover, second guitar, was not participating in this event, and unreliable sources (castle gossip) attributed this to mayonnaise, though they left unclear whether it was due to accidental food poisoning or to more sinister schemes by forces unnamed. Either way, the five-person group was not to be underestimated, as they were clearly the highest hurdle the Terumi siblings (and Fluffy Kaka) had the displeasure of facing.

"I will strike them down," Saya Terumi declared, eyes gleaming in malice.

"With our music, right!" her elder brother kindly reminded her, despite very much wishing to connect his fist with that smug genius clarinettist brat. "Still, maybe we really bit off more than we can chew with th—"

His words were cut short by a purring riff.

The three of them turned back to the guitar. No longer left sad and alone lying down on the cold, unfeeling floor, it now floated in the air, held up by dark semi-translucent hands. A red moon curled its crescent smile at their collective surprise, enjoying the children's dumbfounded faces very much as ethereal fingers swiftly and skilfully danced over the strings. The notes were sharp, crispy, dangerously catchy, stealing their attention like a lamp ready to burn the moths that worship it.

Heh, that was a good comparison, considering who we're describing here. "Heyya! What's this bull about? You kiddos bring a guy down to this dump and don't even give him the time of day, huh? Gimme a break, you shitty brats."

The sound of his voice, the glint of his farce of a green neon eye, and most importantly, his fancy yellow and black-striped bowtie, lit up their faces in a way that the hateful presence should not be able to achieve in any possibility. It actually kinda irked the spectral being a little, though with his simplistic features, it was not easy to notice.

Terumi stopped his fingers on a last, pleasantly resounding note. "So, kitty got your tongues? You're lucky I don't got my knives on me, you little shits. Well then, who do I thank for this, huh? Your dumb-looking ass? Or default face dead-fish-eyes over there? Don't tell me it was the fucking cat."

Said dead-fish-eyed girl swiftly unsheathed her sword. The spectral one played a brown note. "Don't refer to us siblings with such foul language, unless you want to be a former whole item."

"Saya, don't! Don't you realize who this is!?" the elder brother stopped her, beaming. "It's our one chance to win the competition! Holy crap, I can't believe the Ofuda works!"

"Huh, so that's how it is," Terumi watched them with a simple smile in his even simpler face, quite pleased with the results of that old-style magic. It sure pep him up like a charm. "So you shitty brats wanna be big shots, huh?" he laughed gleefully, in very bad news for the world at large. "Good riddance, you sure gonna need all the help you can get, I mean, just look at your dumb faces. C'mon, get your asses in gear already, am I playing solo here or what?"

"Yes, please!" the boy's gratitude visibly irked the guitarist shade, who squinted his simplistic eye in disgust. "Thanks for heeding our call, uncle Yuuki!"

"Huh!?"

"Oh, I see," as her brother took a place behind the drums, Saya sat down at the electric keyboard, uninterested in the fruitless pursuit of mastery of the bass. "We are grateful for your timely appearance in our hour of great need, uncle. By the Terumi family name, we shall win this competition at all costs."

"Uncle?" Terumi repeated, the disgusting word bouncing inside his empty, ghastly round head, unable to be absorbed into the vile matter that formed his being.

"Of course! You're uncle Yuuki, aren't you. I'd never forget how cool you were with the guitar," the boy declared, the memory so visibly dear to him, it made Terumi want to rip off both of the kid's arms right then and there. And a leg too, for good measure. Also, that ahoge, just because. "I guess you don't remember me, uncle? It's me, Naoto, I always watched you play at the dojo when you visited."

Terumi stared him down, trying to move heaven and hell to show the sheer disgust swirling inside his transparent guts at the mere thought of being these kids' loving family member. Unfortunately, all that he put out to the world was a slightly larger smile than usual, and a very intense one-eyed gaze that could very well be (and indeed was) interpreted as the silence of a happy reunion.

"We're counting on you, uncle Yuuki!"

"Let's show them the skills of the Terumi."

"Meow!"

Well, this was absolutely disgusting… But sure, to the hell with it, the vile shade was dying for some attention right now, and the sweet sounds of screams weren't any less delicious just because he was at a music concert instead of gleefully maiming his foes. Besides, he could totally fit a little musical performance into his wedding-ball-wrecking schedule. He was a mastermind evil schemer, remember? "So we got drums, a keyboard and a guitar, that's it?"

"Fluffy can play the ocarina," Naoto gladly remarked. "She's very good at it."

"Of course," Terumi did not resist the urge to kick the cat. His spectral foot, of course, did not connect with the adorable Kaka's body in any way that could possibly cause harm. "Do you have an ocarina?"

"No, we kinda… lost it at sea."

"Alongside half of our baggage."

That was just great. A shadow of himself, two shitty brats and a goddamn mascot. Truly, the Prince of Darkness' realm of Terror awaited the Terumi family's musical debut with bated breath. "Alright you little shits, follow My gracious lead—"

"Ah, Saya, we need someone on the bass, remember!"

"Who cares. Give that shit to the damn cat, hurry up," Terumi chided them, very much enjoying the sight of the children obeying his orders like precious little servants. "We're starting with a four-beat, don't piss your pants from excitement now, okay? And a one-two-three-four, one-two-three-four, keep it up, will ya? One-two-three-four…"

Dresses and capes bloomed in the palace halls in an exotic garden, twirling blossoms in the exquisite cacophony of this event of regal status. Creatures of beguiling blackness joined in the feast, vespers of eternal bliss for the reunion soon to be. A Prince of Darkness and a Princess of Night, joining to expand the Realm of Terror, truly a joyful occasion indeed.

With the opening attraction of a wandering troupe, the festivities were in full swing. Out of all enamoured by the pink ribbons' mesmerizing display, a black rose bloomed delicately against a tall column, ever the silent Onlooker. As she noticed a certain someone's approach, her lips curled ever so slightly.

"Oh, about time. It's bad manners to keep the guests waiting," she remarked, enjoying how irritation wrinkled the Man of the Azure's brows. "Why, if you were my servant, I'd have punished you long ago."

Ragna the Bloodedge scowled, holding up the tray in his good hand, a perfect cookboy donning vivid red. "Gimme a break, rabbit, isn't this stupid dress-up game punishment enough?"

"Hardly, I'd say you are quite in character."

Rachel Alucard had been amusing herself with the sight of the man, prancing in circles around the many delightful guests to take away empty glasses and plates, dodging the little spectral snakes that worked twice as hard to keep the tables full. Speaking of, one made its way downstairs, a mass of concentrated darkness that made Ragna jump as it slithered between his legs.

The man of the Azure let out an irritated huff. "Anyway, shouldn't you be, I don't know, doing something, Rabbit?"

"I am," was her dismissive answer. "Currently, I'm enjoying the Prince of Darkness' wedding ball."

"I mean something about the fact that g-ghost bastard just vanished, all of a sudden?" it seems that, despite his bravado, Ragna the Bloodedge was still not completely over the spectral nature of his nemesis. "And what's the plan here? What did you even bring us to this place for?"

"As I have already explained, this is merely a change of scenery," Rachel Alucard assured him, as one would a pup who lacked the diligence to learn a simple trick. "As it stands, I am sure Terumi will play his part, just as you ought to play yours."

"So we're seriously here just for play-pretend?" Ragna growled between his teeth. "And what are our 'parts' even supposed to be, who decided this?"

"Why, Fate, of course."

Before Ragna the Bloodedge could curse the storyteller's unwillingness to deliver him a better hand in this tale (if only he knew what the drafts had in store…), a thunderous roar of applause accompanied the shower of cheers for the opening performance. The wandering troupe bowed with a flourish, before directing the attention to the stars of this grand event.

"Um, hmm, hello, everyone… Haha, sorry, I guess I'm a bit nervous… Well, anyone would be in their wedding day, so that's pretty normal, I suppose…"

Unlike Rachel, who was a lady of proper decorum and only slightly nodded her head forward to take in the sight bellow, Ragna the Bloodedge placed his free hand on the railing and fully leaned into it, at least as much as his recovering arm could allow. "That guy is the so called 'Prince of Darkness'?"

"Naturally, it would seem so for anyone capable of coherent thought," she remarked, watching him fail to pretend the jab was for naught. "Why do you ask?"

"Eh…"

"So, um… This is my spouse, the Princess of Night, Mu. We're getting married today. Of course… It's a wedding ball after all, haha… And I'm grateful everyone is here with us to celebrate. As one does."

Ragna shrugged. "He kinda seems a little…"

"Pathetic?"

"Makes me feel like the bad guy for bringing Terumi here. And I didn't even wanna come, for starters," Ragna the Bloodedge sighed. Having started this valiant side-quest already with second and third thoughts, this was probably doubt thirty-eight, if he bothered to count. "Let's just hope this doesn't turn into a mess."

"And now, um… I want we all to, I mean, I'd be happy if we could enjoy together… Our music competition. Everyone, please welcome the first band…"

The countdown of fate begins now.

Hello.

It's been two years since the last chapter I think.

I will still finish this fanfic I swear it on ghost Terumi (my beloved). If you are a person who saw the last chapter and wished to see it continued, thank you for your patience.