TOUEI (In Progress, Reposting)

[Ace]

Any readers at all are appreciated. I like comments. XD
I'll probably put up Ashura in another thread today.

Ashura? What's that about?

[Kieran]

Ashura? What's that about?

Sidestory/prequel.



And it's always fun reading Takara's dialogue here. She's . . . Like I imagine she would be, as an adult, as opposed to my teen portrayal. Usually, anyway.

[Cascade]

I did want to make her more mature, as well as more vulnerable. She's lost the safety net of her powerful family and her own ability. When I started writing it, I was still in school and the memory of being far away from everyone I knew was fresh in my mind.

The sidestories reveal details behind plot elements in the main story and specific characters. I have plans to make a whole bunch, but I'm moving pretty slowly, lol.
There's only one chapter of Ashura left to be done.

[Ace]

And I've finally caught up! I just loved the last line of the last update, she really does care about Kira.

But poor Momoko, she's probably worried sick about Takara right now.

[Cascade]

Kira no longer smiled, watching Takara intently. She admitted to herself that his stony glare was intimidating, though it was not openly angry. Nor did she exude malevolence. Yet Kira felt at that moment the same thing. Takara’s blue eyes had already been cold, but at the moment, they had gone past freezing over. It became a conduit, through which her determination traversed the charged air like a spark.

"Wow. This girl's the real deal."

The spark killed the tension in Kira’s body, and his posture grew slack again as his face relaxed into a grin of surrender.

“I figured I’d finally run into someone who was more stubborn than I was.”
Raising his hands in a fake, dejected shrug, he shook his head.
“Girl, you’re some kind of crazy.”

Feelings of tension flickered out of Takara’s blinking eyes.
“What, are you making fun of me again? Someone doesn’t know when to quit.” Her hands were on her hips, and she leaned forward towards her “underclassman” in a scolding manner.

The boy scratched his head, laughing, as he took a step closer. “I was just wondering what was in it for you. I mean, he extended the job to both of us, sure. But I’m the only one who needs to work for Kurogiri. You can go back to ogling boys with your friend and going to class; you’ve got the money and the freedom for it…”

“What was that?” A narrow sidelong glance pierced him.

“Honestly,” Kira glanced downwards, “If I was in your position, I’d almost consider it myself. You’ve got the lucky hand, but I’m down and out. I can take care of myself."

He raised his eyes to meet hers again. "Why don’t you just split?”

Takara wasn’t certain where the feeling had come from, but Kira’s smile had seemed terrifically transparent at the moment, and lonely.

“I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself.”

“Oh?”

She didn’t look at him. “I don’t think my mother and father would forgive me either. Seeing a chance to do something right and closing my eyes isn’t what they raised me to do.” Her arms encircled her chest, holding it tightly in the cold. As she began to thaw, she smiled. “Besides… if I left an idiot like you to his own devices, something bad would be bound to happen.”

Though it was against her character, she winked. It made Kira grow obstinate, though his anger was mild enough to seem insincere.

“Tch, who’s the idiot? The idiot, or the idiot who follows him?” He slouched past Takara to the closet, nearly bumping into her.

“Ah, there’s only one futon.” Kira noted blankly. He turned the thick, cheap comforter over in his hands like he was kneading dough.

“You noticed, did you?”

When he turned back, Takara was staring at him. Though it was concealed in shadow, he could tell it was the same, menacing look she gave him when he’d thought about where she had slept when they both awoke from unconsciousness in the empty room. Suddenly, everything became incredibly clear, and Kira felt the skin on his face grow hot.

“You know,” Kira diligently ignored her murderous intent. “Sleeping on the floor can sometimes be a nice change. You wake up earlier and more easily… Nobody can sneak up on you, prank you, kill you… hah…” The last bit tripped and fell out of his mouth.

Takara’s voice seemed scarily low. “Is that true? Maybe you should sleep on the floor then…”

The young man wiped his brow. “Heh, you’re right aren’t you? I’m the one in a dangerous situation here. Gotta keep on my toes.” He knew that wasn’t the case, save for Kurogiri’s dubious trustworthiness, but he didn’t dare suggest otherwise.

“You’re right. You are in danger.”

She was much shorter than him, but her presence filled the room. Kira struggled with his inner uncouth to avoid letting the inevitable verbal barbs slide off his tongue. He lost.

“You’re so cold Takara. Making an injured man sleep uncovered.”

“Yes. After all, I’m a cruel girl.”

A bead of sweat appeared on his brow. Kira’s silent look built up pressure as the words he had clammed up inside of him rebelled against his control. Accordingly, Takara stepped closer to Kira, smiling in a way that sent a chill up his spine. It looked friendly enough, but…

“… We were both attacked. And we’re both beat… There’s no sense in lying down uncovered in this chilly room. I’m pretty warm."

Kira gulped in a huge breath before releasing every last pent up word.

"Sooo, why don’t the two of us just take the futon and-”

From outside Room 64, there could be heard a muffled cry of dismay.



The sonorous music streamed from within the bar in the lobby once more. She seated herself in the same booth, second from the rear, where glass bottles, boxes filled with tiny bricks of wood, sharp metal tools and squares of fabric littered the table. In years long before, Innocentia had chosen to master the bizarre string instrument and had always played it solo. Pale hands manipulated two distinct sets of strings encapsulated within her red eyes. Nestled between eyelids that bordered on sleepy, they were akin to rubies, or gems of crystallized blood, floating in the sea of milk.

Her melody traveled far and boldly, and its imperfections conveyed an atmosphere of natural ability unlike her flawless appearance. The fingers and the bow she gently clasped would occasionally “misstep,” pausing rather than plucking the wrong chord, as a true novice would perhaps have done. It gave the music an uneven pace that kept the listener awake, consciously following what would otherwise have been sound so relaxing as to provoke a gentle sleep. It was difficult to imagine a strange being like her even slept, so that was fitting.

Innocentia abruptly cut off her music and turned to the entrance of the bar, moments before the shirtless young man reemerged, rubbing an angry pink cheek and grumbling to himself in irritation. Noticing the locked eyes set upon him, Kira straightened up and attempted a strained yet sunny demeanor.

“Hey there.”

Innocentia stared silently. Her body was entirely still, in transition between one note and the next. Hesitantly, Kira approached once more. It was less difficult than their first encounter earlier that night. The tiny lady watched him, unblinking and unmoving, and he felt somehow like he’d been pinned in a display case, another needle through his chest and out his back.

He tilted his head a bit. “I was wondering if you had our clothes, and a separate futon, or a comforter…”

A prompt reply emitted from Innocentia’s small mouth. “Yes. I will immediately provide those.” Without delay, the girl set down the tremendous string instrument and strolled briskly past Kira, to the point at which he shivered from the cold brush of air trailing behind her. Moments later, she re-emerged with a folded comforter tucked under her arm and two colored squares, wrapped in plastic bags, draped around her wrist. Stepping up to Kira with two distinct taps from her shoes, she presented them.

“…”

“…Uh, thanks.”

The girl continued to stare in silence as she held out the impeccably folded laundry. Upon closer examination, Kira realized that the colored squares were indeed their clothes. And “square” was all too literal: he only had his tank top to his name, but Takara’s uniform had been painstakingly pressed into the most symmetrical square he’d seen. He silently hoped Innocentia hadn’t damaged the uniform, but it was a miracle if she even managed to restore it considering the immense amount of blood that had soaked it through.

He took the comforter into his grasp, and picked the clothing off her arm by the plastic. Innocentia simply continued to watch him, facing him directly and expressionlessly. The emotionless girl seemed to express feeling only vaguely, but Kira had noticed a personality of her own when the master was present. The uncomfortable atmosphere prickled the back of his neck, and he felt like he had initiated an audience with a curious ghost. Groping futilely in his mind for a topic of conversation, he drew one from his mental quiver that was surprisingly apt. It had provoked curiosity in him earlier.

“… You play really well.” Kira tested the waters.

The girl made no answer, simply accepting it wordlessly, which to any person other than Kira would have seemed immodest. Silence permeated the bar once again.

“What kind of instrument is that?” Unskilled at music, he nevertheless tried to pick its name from a number of names with no identifying image to attach them to. “A... violin?” As far as Kira was concerned, she played it with a bow.

Innocentia shook her head. One of her ponytails hung lazily over her shoulder. She raised her finger to point at the unattended instrument.
“That is the baryton.”

“Bah-ri-ton?”

“More appropriately, the Viola di Pardone.” After a long pause, Innocentia erased Kira’s existence with the same look, only passing through him to the baryton on the seat. Striding with a little breeze behind her, she seated herself once more and took it into her arms with almost loving slowness.

Kira admitted to himself that the instrument, though robust, was so intricately carved that he would have been terrified of breaking it had he owned one himself. The theme it carried was strangely nautical, with a number of carvings racing up the neck of the device resembling sailing ships and rolling waves. The very tip of the neck was decorated with a literal “head”; the face of what Kira could only assume was a sea captain stared at him as unflinchingly as the girl grasping the instrument. One could imagine just by looking that the surface of its wooden body felt like a vessel's railing, sanded by the salted wind over many long years.

It seemed as if she was going to play again and forget Kira even was there, so he chose that time to speak up again.
“…Does the name mean anything?”

Innocentia paused in the midst of placing bow to strings.
“The name refers to an anecdote. Whether it was fiction or fact: In the 17th century, a man was condemned to death. In prison, he created the first baryton while awaiting execution. The king was impressed by his playing, and decided to absolve him. Thus the name, Viola di Pardone. For a period of time, it was known as the Instrument of Kings.”

Her quiet voice strung together an unprecedented number of words, which was cause enough to startle Kira. But despite her monotone, the manner in which she related the information to him, in an almost encyclopedic style, struck the boy as almost interested, if not passionate.

“Wow, is that true? I’ve never even heard of it…” European instruments were all exotic to him.

“It is indeed highly obscure.”

“It looks… complicated.”

“Few laymen know of its existence, and fewer still can play it to its full extent.”

Setting aside the futon and clothes, Kira took a seat in the same booth as Innocentia, who seemed to appreciate her own space, but nevertheless did not resist him. He did not bother trying to make sense out of the bottles and scraps of wood and cloth. Apparently the tiny girl was able to drink copious amounts of whatever they stored in the bar and still remain lucid, let alone conscious, or at least that was his impression.

“The baryton has two sets of strings. It is typically played alone, and for the benefit of one person alone. The first set of strings, the upper manual, are played like so.”

She drew the bow across the baryton’s front strings. A melancholy, long sound hummed through the room; Kira felt the sound more than he heard it, resonating within him.

“The second set of strings is located within the neck. This is the lower manual. They are sympathetic strings, which resonate when the upper manual is played. A rare feature which few other instruments possess.”

Out of sight, Innocentia’s other hand manipulated the strings. Each strum was sharper than the bass-like chord, but never so harsh as to evoke the sound of a guitar. Kira realized how the sound had seemed surreal coming from one person. The song that Innocentia played would have normally required one person playing a strumming instrument, with another playing a bowed instrument. But somehow the two different forms melded together into one unique, melancholy series of tones when the baryton was played.

Putting aside her bow, Innocentia looked to Kira once more, saying nothing else. Kira, somewhat disappointed, attempted to reinitiate conversation, focusing on her apparent point of interest.

“So, you enjoy playing this instrument by yourself? Kurogiri never plays with you?”

The way the girl locked eyes with him was paralyzing. Kira felt as if he would disappear the moment she looked away. Perhaps to Innocentia, he would.

“Yes, he does, for I am his instrument.”

Momentarily, Kira rammed down the unsettling feeling her blunt statement provoked in him, to the pit of his stomach, where it remained and did little more than stir subtle nausea.

“…That’s not what I meant. But I guess you already told me that the baryton is supposed to be played alone.”

It struck Kira as vaguely sad, but it was not so simple of a sentiment as loneliness. “That’s really something to be proud of.”

Innocentia seemed quizzical somehow, though she did not answer him. Then again, Kira considered whether it wasn’t himself imagining that impression, as her expression had not visibly changed once since he first saw her.

“You accompany yourself right? Even though you’re playing alone, it’s like you’re a duet. What a great instrument.”

She did not respond, merely looking at him. The rubies set in her face revealed nothing. It appeared that she wouldn’t likely answer him unless he asked a question directly. Even so Kira knew the doll-like girl truly enjoyed playing the instrument. He felt ashamed, somewhat, that he’d felt she was unlike a normal human before, and that he had felt she was “creepy.”

“I’m sorta jealous. It looks difficult to play,” Kira observed. “Is it?”

“It is an expert’s instrument, meant to be played for the sake of royalty in private. That ensured that individual barytons and instrumentalists capable of playing them would be rare. Individuals who could play both sets of strings at once were more rare.”

“So it is. I could never have that kind of talent.”

“Yes, for you, it is most likely impossible.”

Kira felt insulted, but considered for a second the lack of social skill the girl demonstrated. Perhaps she didn’t see it as an insult, but rather a deadpan, accurate appraisal of his skills. It seemed to him that a girl as stoic as Innocentia was incapable of lying. To Kira, those who lied were always individuals who acted casual and friendly when they had no reason to. A girl without sentiments obviously had no sentiments to hide, or so it seemed. The thought that he would never have the skill to play such a complex, obscure instrument didn’t hurt his feelings, as he thought about how difficult it likely was. He was thick-skinned anyway.

Kira shrugged off her words. “Anyways, how long did it take you to learn how to play it?”

“I am still learning.” Innocentia said.

Faced with another ambiguous answer, as if he’d inadvertently asked something rude, Kira decided not to delve any further, even if that wasn’t the impression she had wanted to give.

“I’m impressed anyways. You’re so young to be learning an instrument like this.” Kira chuckled boyishly. “You know, I didn’t even go to a normal elementary school, so I never even got to play recorder. Like all the other kids.”

The strange look in her red eyes almost suggested she was insulted. Again, Kira was forced to consider if he had simply imprinted his thoughts onto her, but it seemed as if Innocentia immaturely rejected her age, insisting she was a woman and not a girl. The conversation was swiftly racing towards its conclusion, he felt; it would not do for him to ruin it, plummeting back down to the previous status quo of corpselike awkwardness between the two of them.

“You don’t like being called young? Haha, I’m just saying how I feel. Anyone who can play is amazing to me. I can’t even play Japanese instruments, even though I know a little about them.” Kira smiled warmly, looking about the bar. “There really are amazing people everywhere. I’m blessed just to meet them.”

On the subject of amazing people, the one who monopolized their futon snatched back his attention in a flashing moment.

“Oh, sorry… I guess I shouldn’t loiter. You go on ahead and play some more. It’s okay to play for me once in a while, though that’s not really my kind of music.”

Her silent stare impaled him, until, without acknowledging his words, she looked back to her instrument and took hold of the bow once more. Grinning sheepishly, as if he had to get back to pressing labor, he rose from his seat across from Innocentia, playing with the Buddhist chain at the base of his neck.

“Do you remember your room number?”

His brow twisted as his mind chugged away at the question. Kira didn’t want to think he was slow, but…
“Sixty…four. Yeah, sixty four, right.”

“Do not enter the wrong room. As Marcel directed, only one has been prepared for you. If you have need of anything else, I will remain here.”

“Don’t lose any sleep for our sake, all right?” For a moment, he wondered if irregular girls like her even slept. Kira lazily slung the futon and clothes over his shoulder. The perfect squares were slightly crumpled by his actions, but the tiny girl had no visible misgivings, sitting with the baryton in anticipation. Appropriately, the boy had the feeling he’d outstayed his welcome.

He waved his free hand in a salute-like point at the baryton. “Good luck with your practice. Uh…” Kira glanced back and forth between the instrument, and Innocentia’s chilling eyes. “…G’night.”

“Good night,” came the carefully enunciated reply.

The tall young man left in a hurry. He felt the eyes part from his back, and even before he was out of sight, the reverberations of her twenty four strings melted away his memory. Their failure of a conversation was a dream, leaving behind only the sound and nebulous emotions it resurrected within him.



Kira found his way back to the room, and his fingers seemed reluctant to part even a second from the rosary binding his hair. When he finally forced them to let go, and took the door handle, he deliberated momentarily on her cautionary statement.

“Take care not to enter the wrong room Kira.” He murmured to himself. It was as if there were things in the other rooms she or her master didn’t want Kira to witness. Of course, this provoked his curiosity. Sliding his feet quietly along the carpet, he stood in front of the identical door to Room 63. He extended his hand forward and encircled his fingers around the door’s grip.

Immediately he felt something in the cool metal retreat from his skin’s touch. Though the handle was solid and the same form as 64’s, it projected into his nerves phantom sensations of life, as if he’d grabbed a lizard’s tail, writhing and snapping off between his fingers. The moment he took hold, it felt like something was lunging at him, dashing itself viciously against the inside of the door. There was no sound or movement, only pure sensation.

Kira nearly dropped his futon, leaping back with widened eyes. Staring at the portal with an adversarial gaze, he froze in a brief, silent standoff with it.

“…Um…”

The funeral home-like placidity of Comorant’s circular hall broke with his stuttering.

“…I, er… I think I-I’ve made a mistake…” Kira gulped. Only the hope that his immature curiosity hadn’t doomed him kept him from running. Had he felt the presence of an extinguished life in the door? Was that what Innocentia had warned him of? Kira was brave in most cases, but there were certain unseen things in the world that were proud exceptions, and he didn’t like them.

“I’m tired you see… and you; well, you all look the same. It’s not prejudice or anything but… really, just look at yourselves… Can’t blame me, right?” The ludicrous personification song and dance and his statement both seemed mostly true; as was natural for modern apartment buildings or hotels, every door was perfectly identical. And on a loop-shaped floor, there was no “end of the hall” to measure doors from, to remember the location of his living space. If the number hadn’t been there, it wouldn’t have been difficult for him to happen upon the wrong doorknob.

He felt like an idiot, but all the same, he waved nervously to the inanimate door. Its white front was its blank, unfeeling expression. “I’ll be going now…” Kira grinned, sliding slowly, without taking his eyes off it, back towards Takara’s room.

The further he got from it, the larger the door seemed. Kira had to rub his eyes, for it seemed for a moment that the entryway soundlessly bulged outwards into the hallway, struggling to contain something beyond comprehension. Any minute, it seemed, the walls would give way, show some sign of stress, or crack open.

He blinked; the optical illusion was a mere memory, but nevertheless, he hastily opened the door to their room and slipped inside, juggling hurry and quietness as best he could. Kira barely remembered his prior decision: that upon returning, he would be as quiet as possible, so as not to enrage his unwilling co-habitant any further than he already had. The sore on his cheek burned a bit at the thought.

“Damn she’s strong…”

The number of lights left on in the city had thinned, leaving nothing in their wake to illuminate the futon near the window. Strobes of blue and red had subsided; the police had likely finished whatever business they had at the scene of the disturbance long ago. That gave Kira a sense of the passage of time that had somehow escaped him entirely from the very moment he woke up in the building. Had he been unconscious for an hour? Several hours? He could hear Takara’s soft breathing concealed in shadow’s blanket. Perhaps she knew more than he did.

Although he had been responding instinctively to the events of the night, it was a reaction akin to an adaptable animal being forced into an unfamiliar environment. He wasn’t optimized to handle such stress. As time passed, the scar on his chest felt more and more alien; it was no longer a part of him but a lesion that adhered itself to his body, like a decal. Expose it to water, and it would peel away, or so he would have hoped. Years of living purely in a material life, where the main concerns were solid things like bread and money, left him uncertain of how to proceed. Takara had strung him along and exposed the naïve young man to an esoteric second layer to life he’d been ignorant of.

Flowers didn’t experience desires more complicated than their own needs. They opened in sunlight and thrived within moistness. Some outside force triggered or facilitated every stage of the flower’s life. Stimuli would provoke a response. Kira thought, while watching these plants, that a simple happiness was best. Having never been gifted with wealth or even a truly comfortable standard of living, he would have been blessed if his life too became plantlike and simple. Events would push him, and in return, he would fold upon himself and sway back. He had to consider to himself if even that night was nothing but stimulus and response.

After all, what were Kira’s concerns? Were they simply getting work, feeding himself, and earning money to attend college? He had, for as long as he could remember, been good with his hands more than his mind, though he was by no means stupid. By all accounts he had the equipment to provide for himself, though his mind never strayed far from the present. But his choices were limited, not that it mattered any. The future lay tantalizingly in front of him, but Kira had no profound desires or dreams, and so he never engaged with it. If he had simply been provided with an origin he could remember clearly, like his hometown’s name, maybe it would have been enough to set him on a path; some form of vague comprehension guiding him to a career and family normal enough to make him feel whole and satisfied with his position in society. But Kira knew that the dinners wouldn’t fill him, and the sleep wouldn’t satisfy, and by the end of the day, he’d feel the same hollow “lack” contained behind his smile.

The “death” he experienced and the girl he’d met were just stimuli. All he needed to do was react. That way, his lack of a beginning robbing him of his end, he’d never truly fill himself, but never go hungry. Entertainment. Excitement. Fear. These were things that functioned to protect him from introspection, and provided sustenance for his mind. React, and he could keep on going, until he understood the mysterious feeling of illness in his now-artificial heart.

Still, it never particularly worried him. In fact, it rarely came to his mind most days. Kira was happy with living day by day, and watering his plants calmly in the sun, taking naps, eating good food. He didn’t expect at all to find himself so entangled, but since meeting Takara, things in his life had taken a turn for the interesting, to say the least.

Somehow his expectations were nullified. Kira had assumed that he would turn his back on the impossible if it confronted him, sated with the sphere he lived in. Yet how their meeting had invigorated him!

“You’re back.” Takara’s murmur made him jump. In the darkness, he could barely see her rise from the futon, draped in the blanket. For only a fleeting moment he imagined, despite the fact that it could just as well have been another illusion, that he’d seen the striking blue of her eyes reflect what little light remained.

“Yeah. Got another futon…”
Though it was more imagination than sight, the image of her, dark hair unbound and flowing over her slender shoulders in that thin robe, provoked a reaction in Kira he didn’t feel like sharing. “Heart stopping,” he would have called it, had it not been an ill-natured pun at his own expense.

“I’m just sleeping in the same room.” Though living in the same space with an unrelated girl close to his own age was questionable to anybody but Kira, perhaps it was Takara herself that provoked his embarrassment. It would pass. “No choice after all. She got all riled up earlier, doesn’t want to be here any more than you do.”

“… I’m sorry for hitting you.”

He couldn’t see her expression, but the unexpected apology lowered the tension immensely.

“It’s just that, being forced to live with a boy is…” Takara’s embarrassment was almost tangible. “…Well, these are extreme circumstances. Still…”

Kira dropped the futon. It flattened against the floor with a thick sound. “Psh… I don’t get it anyway. If it bothers you so much, I can sleep in the hall.”

He could hear her stirring.
“No, that wouldn’t be right.”

“You can endure it for now, huh?” Kira muttered sarcastically, smoothing out his blanket. “Got your uniform back for you. It’s clean now.” He tossed it in Takara’s direction, uncaring of where it landed.

“Thank you.”

Kira allowed himself a hidden, embarrassed smile. By that hour, it could have been 2:00 or 3:00 in the morning. It had been a long night, and it was only going to get longer.



He’d managed to make himself comfortable under his sheets. Typically Kira just sprawled out, occupying as much territory on his futon as he could, but that night his body seemed so stiff he couldn’t help but lie, corpselike, straight on his back. His futon rest entirely across the room from Takara’s, but in the silence he could hear her soft breaths as if they were inches apart. Minutes passed, and whether one slept and the other was awake, neither could tell. Too much had happened for them to rest free of entangling doubts and fears.

“I was wondering-”
“Kira, are you-“

At the same moment, they ventured to speak again. Their mutual interruption entombed both statements in the same funereal silence as before, until Kira resurrected their fledgling conversation.

“This is pretty awkward, huh?”

“You needn’t state the obvious.”

“Yeesh… sorry.”

“…”

“That aunt of yours you mentioned… the witch one.”

“Yes?”

“Know her well?”

“Somewhat.”

“You close?”

“I do love her, though she is often… abroad.” Her voice betrayed her. When it came to Aoko, she could be only counted upon to be in a strange place somewhere in the world. Takara didn’t entirely envy her free spirit.

Kira’s voice abounded with admiration. “A witch. So, you’ve lived like this your whole life?”

“…No. But, I was aware of the supernatural, for a long time.”

Though she couldn’t likely see him, Kira nodded all the same. He tucked his hands wrist on wrist behind his head. “And tonight I awakened to that world…”

“I’ve always been awake.” Takara’s words were carried on a long breath. “It was my mother and father who woke up for me.”

“Before you were born?”

“Ah, yes. Long before they met.” She didn’t want to say it was Kira’s age, by appearances, regarding her father.

No longer in the sleeping mood despite his exhaustion, he turned over to his side.
“No shit? Like your aunt?”

“Not like my aunt,” Takara hesitated momentarily, “Why all the questions? What’s this all of a sudden?”

“Because,” Kira answered back in a more mellow tone, “You can’t sleep, can you?”

She seemed to freeze. Even with a veritable blindfold over his eyes, Kira could tell. But he didn’t know that it wasn’t simply that night that Takara had trouble sleeping.

“… You’re right. Fine then, shoot away.”

“All right~.” Kira hummed as if he’d won a prize in a UFO catcher game. “So then, what did they do? Kill monsters with little knives?”

Thought it was terribly obvious what Kira was referring to, it still sounded perceptive to the girl. “Well, yes, actually.”

“What, really? Guess it runs in the family…”

“My mother is an exorcist. She is from an order in the Catholic church…”

“Church? So she’s like a nun?”

Takara didn’t like Kira’s sudden enthusiasm. “…Yes, somewhat, only she was trained to fight… vampires.”

Though it was the simplistic truth of her life, it seemed like telling him a tremendous lie, a modern myth. But he too was part of that myth now.

“Okay, so she’s a kind of battle nun. Like a souhei?”

Her mind’s eye fixated upon the image of her mother, dressed in Buddhist robes and feudal armor, an iron club in one hand and a steaming plate of curry in the other. “…Not quite.”

“Catholicism isn’t as foreign as I thought it was.” Kira’s words made Takara wonder about how sheltered a life he must have lived up until that point, but his questions left her little time to ruminate.

“And not only her, but your aunt and father too? Is your whole family ‘out of the ordinary’?”

Takara considered how to answer. “Well my aunt is not my aunt by blood. She’s sort of like my father’s… mentor. My father, on the other hand, is normal.”

The boy sounded like he had been tricked. “Normal? But you said he ‘woke up.’ So did your mom throw water in his face or what?”

“…This ‘awakening’ metaphor is really going too far. And no, he knew about the supernatural for a long time before that.” There was no sense in dissembling anymore, but Takara was reluctant to speak freely. “His lineage is unique. Regardless, my parents are entirely ‘normal.’ My mother is a teacher, my father is a painter, and I love them both.”

“And they got together and had you. You’re part foreigner, aren’t you?”

“What of it?”

“Ouch, struck a nerve. Lucky you. I don’t care.”

Takara breathed a sigh of relief. More of the same from her high school days was the last thing she needed to experience.

If only to Kira, Takara’s nature was novel enough to seem almost exotic: just one of many odd things he ran into that night, and hardly any less fascinating, for she was, as far as he knew, the first person of mixed descent he had truly conversed with.

“Was it your mom?”

“Yes. She came here from France.”

“A French battle nun. That’s awesome. I thought they were chaste though…”

“Could you please stop calling her that?”
He mother was hardly even religious. Although she had of course seen the woman’s old cassock, it was apparently not Burial’s uniform.

“Ayy-men. But Takara, you must have an amazing family.”

“Don’t drop the honorific either…”

“Who else lives with you?”

“A baby brother and two baby sisters, my father’s servant, and sometimes my godmother-”

“Amazing! You even have a godmother? And all these people know this stuff? Magic and whatnot, I mean.” Kira rudely interrupted, but his excitement had made him raise his voice.

“Yes, but it isn’t as if we had a choice. Apart from that, my family isn’t so strange,” she said, somewhat more self-consciously.

“I dunno, your parents know about an entire sphere of life I didn’t know a thing about until tonight. Even now it’s kinda hard for me to get my head around, but I’m figuring it out. To me, they’re remarkable.”

Kira chuckled: “You really come from a loving family of normal killers huh?” though his sarcasm shone through.

His wording slowly drained her patience. “No, they’re normal. My father sleeps late, and my mother watches my grades like a hawk. My aunt wins eating competitions; my godmother gets in arguments with my mom.”

“Oh yeah?”

“My parents take care of each other, and me, and love each other so much it’s embarrassing. And I too love them that much, so much it hurts. They don’t deserve the fear of me being in danger, and yet even so, it happened. Even though just sending me away to this city was enough to worry them.”

Kira’s silence suggested intense concentration, or confusion. She let slip about the Grail War, which at least she could count on the country boy to know nothing about.

“…To me, my mother and father are normal. I haven’t lived any other way. And I don’t want to, despite how I feel sometimes. And to hear you find them so fascinating… A part of me is flattered. But a part of me also feels upset to think that maybe you find them too ‘fascinating.’ It’s probably not something you can easily understand. I’m not used to talking about this so openly.”

“Fascinating” like he’d found Takara earlier that night, drenched in blood and swinging a knife in a beautiful scene of desperation and massacre.

“Ahh, sorry. Me and my big mouth.”

She could imagine him, scratching the back of his head when he spoke once more.

“I don’t know what it feels like to be loved by a family.”

Just like that. He’d struck her straight through the heart. There Takara was, feeling defensive, worrying that her family would seem quaint. If not for its multiple ethnicities, and the tension she felt because of Father’s servant, and her unrelated godmother and aunt, then for the simple fact that all of them, in one way or another, felt the mystical. Most of them were, as he said, natural killers, or beings whose very nature exuded power. It had been Takara’s own illusion that her family was something to be feared. If her uncouth ally had been anyone else, perhaps that anxiety would have been fully realized.

And there was Kira, amazed at little else than a father’s smile, or a mother’s embrace. He spoke with a neutral diction devoid of sadness, just as upbeat as he typically showed himself to be, and yet Takara felt that he was a child who did not remember the sensation of being amongst his own blood. Suddenly, Takara own worries seemed trivial, even petty in comparison, at least to her.

“Kira, you have a way of making me feel guilty.”

She wondered how she hadn’t seen it sooner. It seemed so obvious in that interval of time that the quiet smile Kira wore when amongst his plants was one he had likely worn for years alone. Because he was ignorant of the joys that were an integral part of her life, he had no knowledge of sadness or a feeling of lack. His desire was far more simple.

“I couldn’t help bothering you. But see, I just find family pretty amazing anyways. Not like I’ve always been alone but…”

He voiced his thoughts. They were a lucid reflection of her own only hours before, when he still infuriated her.

“It must have been difficult, Kira,” She said, remorseful in tone. That tone only provoked more unrestrained laughing from the boy.

“Heh, don’t pity me so much! I’m not unhappy at all. The people I feel sorry for are my mother and father, and my adoptive mom and dad.” His voice seemed closer to her, oddly enough.

“… You feel sorry for them?”

“Yeah, because I was a bother to them for almost ten years. They treated me well enough and ditched me after that. So I always thought that it would have been easier if they’d been honest from the start and given me to someone else from the beginning. They had to keep up that sham for so long.”

As he’d so professed, Kira’s voice seemed entirely devoid of resentment. “I think that a lot of things in life would be simplified if people didn’t lie so much. This country is full of liars. You can’t accept things directly, can’t refuse things directly. Isn’t that dishonesty?”

“I wouldn’t say it’s lying,” Takara responded quietly. “It’s a simple truth of life that people have to conceal their true feelings, to avoid causing unnecessary conflict. Saying exactly what we thought would often hurt others needlessly. That is part of how we coexist.” She didn’t feel it was necessary to state that Kira seemed like a personality who riled up a substantial amount of that unnecessary conflict in his time.

“Well, sometimes you’ve gotta lie. It’s just that people forget what it is they really feel when they pretend long enough.”

“’Why deceive ourselves?’ That’s what you’re trying to say, right?”

“Something like that.”

“Because there are times when we must lie to ourselves to get through life.” Takara intoned. “Even now, you could be deceiving yourself, and not even realize it.”

“A lie so effective we believe it ourselves? I certainly won’t disagree. Maybe my folks too suffered from that.” Kira had spoken with an atmosphere of recollection.

The sensitivity in her heart found it difficult to accept the possibility that Kira’s own blood rejected him. It had been Takara who suggested that Kira would have difficulty understanding her family, through no fault of his own, yet she wanted to believe they had some justification for abandoning him.

“But, I’m certain they must have loved you somehow.”

“Haha, you really think so? Mind telling me why?” It was an honest question.

Her answer lodged in her throat. “… If they were capable of loving each other, then they must have felt enough desire to care for you, if only because you were created by that emotion.”

“You’re a nice girl. But my family was different than yours. My mother and father treated me with kindness, but without explanation, they sent me away, never even telling me the name of the village I was born in.” Kira smiled in the darkness. If she could have seen him, it would have mimicked the moon in crescent. “They said, ‘you weren’t born to be happy.’”

“That’s… horrible. But there had to be a reason.”

“Oh that’s pretty easy to figure out. They couldn’t lie anymore. I don’t regret it; living alone is better than living with someone who doesn’t want you around. Right Takara?”

“I’m not co-habiting with you Kira. And I’ve had one hellish day.”

“Aw jeez, you’re no fun. Whatever. My folks are old news. I hardly think about them.”

Takara struggled with her imagined vision of his circumstances. “Still, to be raised in a house with only false warmth-”

“Warmth? My adoptive parents had plenty of warmth. What they didn’t have was cash. The old man was a victim of the recession years ago; got his ‘head cut off’ at his company. So I left ‘em. They were planning on ditching me too, but I found out first. No hard feelings.”

Despite his casual manner of talking, Takara could not imagine how bitter she believed he must have felt. He had lived in uncharted territory that she only barely dare tread in.

“It’s hard for me to believe you’re that even tempered about it Kira. I might not know your circumstances, but even if it was unfair, I’m not confident in my maturity. I think regardless of their reason, or lack of reason, I’d hold some grudge against my parents if they left me alone.”

“Ahh, you’ve gotten pretty attached to them though, so that’s an easy feeling to have. But me, I’m not such a loyal boy.” Kira rest on his back, staring at the apartment’s ceiling. “I like whoever helps me feed myself, and I like whoever gives me a place to live.”

But she heard a sigh of resignation. He seemed so much closer. Takara realized that she had slid over to the nearer side of her futon to hear him better.

“You got me there though. I’m not an unhappy boy at all. But, I probably hate my true parents.”

“That’s what I felt. Who could blame you for that?”

“Who indeed. It’s a vague emotion, only pops up once in a while. I don’t get angry easily. But, I don’t see it as a burden. When I think about how mad I was years ago when I was out on my own for the first time… how scared, I get kind of riled up again. Those times are the only times I feel like I’ve got something to prove.”

“Something to prove?”

“That I was worth it after all.”

“…”

“That’s why I’m strong. I kinda let it fuel me. It’s consumable. It burns away when I work. After that, I can’t stop working. I don’t have any strong goals or desires. I just want to eat good food and live in a nice place.”

“I see…” Takara didn’t believe anything good could come of fueling oneself with hate but she was realistic enough to believe Kira needed all the motivation he could get. He was destitute, and alone.

“That’s what keeps me going. Sorry though, it’s a little cliché. You can tell I haven’t given it a lot of thought.” Another laugh. “We’re getting pretty intimate here, aren’t we? Why I am I telling you all this, Takara?” Accordingly, he dispensed with formalities.

“Ugh.” She recoiled from his direction. “Figure it out yourself. I’m not feeling generous.”

There was no snide reply from Kira, or laughter. The grumpy girl found herself waiting to see what he would say next, if only in curiosity.

She’d hear it, right next to her ear. Close enough that his breath raked her skin.

“Why don’t the two of us explore that together?”

The only thing Kira was going to explore, however, was Takara’s pillow… with her fist behind it. It wasn’t to soften the blow, only to stifle his frantic yells for mercy.

[Kieran]

Ah yes - I'd forgotten that Kira was a bit of a flirt . . . *checks guns*

And I just had a strange idea for an omake involving Gilgamesh's attempt to acquire the Instrument of Kings.

[MrTags]

I'm not sure that's called a flirt where Takara's involved.

Somehow more of a glutton for punishment.

Talk about a girl you need full body protection to hit on...

[Kieran]

Consider the last two guys who showed interest in her, and tell me she doesn't have a reason to be overcautious.

[MrTags]

Caution is not a response that usually involves knuckles to face.

Distancing oneself, while a valid reaction in caution and not wanting to get hurt, is not usually accomplished by seeing how far you can PUNCH the other person away from you.

Though given who's kid this is... just punching is the least of his worries.

[Cascade]

Maybe Kira's a bit of a maso? XD
He's used to getting beat on.

[MrTags]

And Suddenly OMAKE

There was a scuffle downstairs, and a cry of pain. Jin Kurogiri's eyebrow raised as an out of breath Takara ran into his office.

"Mr Kurogiri, Mr Kurogiri!"

Putting down his pen the mage looked up to his part time worker, "What is it Takara?"

Looking down quickly Takara blushed and stammered out, "Kira got a little too fresh and now he needs another organ replaced!"

A grin spread across Kurogiri's features as he stood and snatched a box off the highest shelf, "Ah the wonders of alchemy, I have just the thing."

Takara looked relieved, "Lucky him, all he's doing is bleeding right now."

With a flourish Kurogiri produced a very large golden glowing and jeweled... item... from the box. He smiled as he looked it over lovingly.

"From the famed alchemist Sir Isaac!" he explained, "The Phallic Holistic Implantable Gland!"

Takara stifled her look of relief, trying not to look at the... item... "Oh that's good..." she started, then thought a second, "wait... it's the what?"

Holding the mighty gland above his head, the light shining off it's extended form Kurogiri prounounced loudly, "BEHOLD THE PHIG NEWTON!"

Downstairs Kira rolled over and croaked...

[Cascade]

My first omake is this?!
I feel important and disturbed at the same time.

[Kieran]

*bangs head on desk* Very bad pun . . .

[Cascade]

What is the pun?

[Cascade]

Takara would have slept for hours had it not been for his rustling around. During mornings, her energy level was at its lowest; she would have “killed” the light if it meant she could linger in bed a little longer. But naturally, an aggravating kind of boy like Kira didn’t know or care about her sleep schedule. He was already up, and up to something.

She opened her eyes into slits, and frantically shut them tight. Takara felt like retreating further under the covers. Beyond his broad back, she could see the old writing on his arm as he reached for something on the floor. Kira was in the midst of pulling on his jeans, but he hadn’t noticed her, a small favor. Perhaps he had just finished taking a shower, but he was hardly clothed.

Slipping on his tank top, Kira pulled at his shoulders. They were tense, but felt normal. He flexed his arm. Still functioning as it always had. Tracing the scar on his chest, it seemed as if the replaced heart functioned exactly as his real one had, to the point at which he could only feel skeptical. Though there was no reason not to believe Kurogiri, the man could have simply knifed his chest and feigned the transplant; though Kira believed it considering that the pain he experienced that night was more than enough evidence. It had started like a burning coal set in a chamber of the heart, expanding and heating up through the ventricles and valves of the organ, spreading to his arteries and even going as far as his veins. Truly, if the venom had done anything, Kira believed it ate his heart alive, as fantastical as it was.

With a snap of his fingers, he slipped the rosary band around the hair at the back of his head and let go, tying it into his messy ponytail. In an almost stereotypical manner, he stoked himself up for the day, slapping himself on both cheeks quickly to fully wake himself up. He winced. Kira regretfully forgot the bruises Takara gave him before they finally calmed down and went to sleep. But the pain did make him more lucid.
Blinking and fully charged, he looked over his shoulder. The sleeping girl was nothing but a lump under the sheets, a part of the futon. A few strands of black hair peeked out from under the edge, like she was hiding.

“Hm? Coulda sworn her face was uncovered. Oh well.”

Today he would go to Kurogiri and confirm the job. Not without asking a few questions of course, but if nothing else, Kira needed money. That alone was enough to prevent him from refusing.
Still, it wasn’t as if Takara’s misgivings had fallen on deaf ears. Staring through the tiny keyhole of his own perception, Kira felt as if it couldn’t be helped, but she knew more than him, and she was worried. He didn’t want to get in over his head, but nevertheless, there wasn’t enough doubt in him to rot his foundations. At least he’d take care of it alone and spare her concern.

Someone was worried about him. It was irresponsible, but he could afford to be selfish for a little while and enjoy it.

“It feels new.”

Kira smiled at the thought as he walked out the door, looking over his shoulder at the Takara-lump huddled under her blankets.

“It feels nice.”



Immediately upon stepping out, he heard the familiar Baryton humming from the bottom of the atrium. Pale light flooded in through the ceiling like the chilled face of a kinder, dimmer sun, a sensation of safety and relief flooding through his sore body. The long spiral of the Great Cormorant swirled down beneath Kira in beautiful wooden carvings and velvet-like fabric.

The process of “regeneration” was complete at least for him. Takara would take a bit longer. Now that they’d returned to daylight, the land of the living, how many enemies remained? None? A few? In this bifurcated world he’d entered, the land of the night concealed Earth’s mysteries, and the land of the day was his sanctuary. Kira doubted that he’d be at risk in broad daylight, as long as he didn’t do anything risky, like play dice with those strange tattooed men who were missing fingers. He lost quite a bit of money to them over the last year. Luckily, they weren’t terribly common in Akitaka.

When he entered the bar, Innocentia sat in her booth, exactly as he left her before.
Though somehow he’d expected to find her there, Kira still raised an eyebrow. She set aside her instrument and immediately resumed boring into him with her eyes.

He remembered that Kurogiri had been very specific about how to visit his home on the roof. Kira surmised that it was not acceptable for him to simply go there himself. Uncouth in all other situations, he wouldn’t risk his future job so carelessly while he still had sense in him. Communicating with the white-dressed man through his white doll still seemed most prudent. After all, criminally under-aged secretary though she was, it seemed as though words spoken to her would get through to the odd man without fail.

“… Good morning.” Kira waved to her, beaming radiantly.

“Good morning.”

Innocentia answered back in a smooth, whispery voice that was at once frigid and fascinating. He shivered accordingly.


“… Did you sleep well, Innocentia?”

The girl still frayed his nerves, breaking his composure. Kira felt once more like squirming on his pin. Casual talk was still worth an attempt.

“I did not sleep.”

“… Oh.”

She shot down his attempt to connect mercilessly. The doll was something apart from human beings, and did not hesitate to remind him. Still, Kira found it difficult to reconcile her snowy face with the underlying inhumanity somehow.

The nervous boy opened his mouth to speak. “Can I see your boss now?”

Innocentia nodded.

“It’s not too early right? I don’t want to piss him off if he hates mornings.”

Innocentia shook her head. She rose from her chair, carrying the Baryton with her after shutting it into a black case. One more glacial stare from her beckoned him to follow. He naturally obliged, although he paused for a moment as he thought to himself.

"Talking with this kid is gonna get tiresome..."

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Ah, Mr. Kaede. Excellent timing.”

Their benefactor sat at his table. Kurogiri’s glasses were replaced with yet another pair, only they were both spectacles and something else: a strange combination of magnifying lenses set on golden frames and metal wire. The object of his attention was an ornate bowl. Kurogiri turned it in his gloved hands over an white sheet, which Kira thought momentarily resembled the scarf the man wore that night. The antique he held had been clearly etched with innumerable tiny runes all about its bronze exterior, but the edge was cracked, a little black thunderbolt, and it seemed Kurogiri was deliberately examining the flaw before attempting to restore it. But upon Kira’s arrival, he immediately put the bowl down, quickly but carefully. It sat proudly in the middle of the white sheet.

“You’re an early riser, Mr. Kaede. I must say I’m rather impressed. Did you sleep well?”

Kira laughed, fiddling with the rosary. “We already spend a third of our life asleep. It’s always struck me as an awful waste.”

“Rarely have wiser words been said.”

Kurogiri set aside his examination glasses calmly, before withdrawing his more familiar silver-framed pair, flipping them open with a flick of his wrist. He pressed them upon the bridge of his nose.

“Yet, does it always ring true? When you’ve grown as old as I have, you tend to understand the value of spending each moment of your time advancing along the path to your desire. But oftentimes a little detour along the way is more than welcome.”

He motioned for Kira to sit across from him. Innocentia, however, sat by Kurogiri without his prompting, quite close to his shoulder. She folded her hands picturesquely in her lap. The man regarded Kira, who could not have been more out of place in his ragged clothes and laborer looks, like he was a gentleman of equal status.

“But that is a discussion for another time, if you will. Don’t misunderstand me as rushing you, Mr. Kaede, but I had the inclination to bring this up first, as my schedule today will become busy in a couple hours. I hope you don’t mind.” The lackadaisical pace with which the cordial man spoke didn’t lend any believability to his claim however.

Kira blinked. “Err, yeah. Sorry… I’m not used to all this formality.”

“Now now, there’s no need to feel uncomfortable.” Kurogiri folded his hands before him, nesting them together and watching from over the triangle his arms had formed, leaning on the table.

“Straight to the point, then: Do you feel you’ve had sufficient time to fully consider my offer?”

He could feel Takara's words of caution drumming his heart, filling him with anxiety.
“I’m…”

Kurogiri continued to smile, expectantly awaiting his answer. The silence did nothing to extract the youth from his difficulties.

With a shake of his head, Kira centered himself once more. He couldn’t lose his business sense over what she’d mentioned to him. The boy had survived at least that long on his own; he trusted his own judgment, his own reasoning. Regardless of what kind of man Kurogiri was, or how untrustworthy he might have been, Kira had simplistic needs that required filling. Perhaps those needs were ones Takara had never worried about. She had the freedom to see others, while Kira’s worries were largely pecuniary. With his lack of experience and young age, other opportunities for him, enough to support a life alone in the city, would not likely emerge. Akitaka was sanitary and safe, or at least Kira had thought so until the fatal encounter, but it was also a difficult place for a non-professional to find employment.

“I’m interested, but I need to know a few things first.” Kira intoned calmly. It was a shame Takara couldn’t have been there. A ripple of maturity spread out from his resolute center to every extremity, affecting his demeanor. It would have shocked her speechless. Simply by not smiling, by focusing more and changing his posture, the gangster-like teenager became a man.

“What kind of pay can I expect?”

“Hmmm… what do you think is fair?”

“Excuse me?”

“Well, as you can see, monetary concerns are minor in regards to myself. I support no family and make little expenditure. The only ‘dependent’ attached to me is this girl.”

Innocentia didn't react. She simply sat, statue-like, with her hands folded upon her lap at the man's side, eyes like glass.

“Yeah, I see.”

“So when I say I can pay you as much as you like, rest assured, I am being entirely honest. Of course, this all depends on whether or not Mr. Aozaki also accepts the position.”

Kira spoke again with a tinge of caution. “Is it okay for me to ask if she’s my competitor?”

The resultant laugh Kurogiri emitted was predictably artificial. “No no, Mr. Kaede. Mr. Aozaki will be your coworker. The two of you would carry out your duties entirely as a team should I hire both of you.” He grinned rakishly, baring his polished teeth just slightly. “Why, you’ll never have to be apart!”

Kira felt uneasy attempting to probe the meaning floating about in Kurogiri’s words, but the image of himself being stuck with an angry Takara, even to the point of suffering bathroom trips with her, frightened him out of those attempts.

“But, do be aware that should Mr. Aozaki refuse the partnership, but accept the job, I will hire you. ‘Accept no substitutes,’ or so they say.”

That was good. He felt like he could relax. The knots in his shoulders untangled themselves. It bothered him that Kurogiri found a boy who had barely even completed high school more suitable for the position than a first year college student, however.

“Honestly… I can’t drive a have a car. My education isn’t complete. It might be hard for me to pay the rent. Also,” Kira gulped hesitantly, “Some of my legal documents are missing. After I moved out of my previous house, I talked with my guardians. They weren’t able to recover a lot of paperwork regarding my place of birth and legal relatives. Unfortunately, I’m as clueless about those things as they are. What makes me more qualified than her?” He was certain choosing to be honest was the only option he had. If he lied about his documentation and Kurogiri found out, he'd be fired anyway; but if he told him the truth, he'd potentially be commended for being forthcoming.

But Kurogiri simply winked at Kira. “I care nothing for those issues. Only truevalue carries any meaning to me.”

He wouldn’t answer. Employers did have their privileges after all, and he was already tolerating so much.

“Besides, how exacting do you imagine the qualifications for a janitorial position are?” He spoke through a slanted smirk.

The young man stirred where he sat, unable to object.

“Cleaning this place won’t be a thing, but what about those random jobs you talked about?”

“You’re a very interesting young man Mr. Kaede. You and Mr. Aozaki both are fascinating individuals. That’s why I felt it would be a waste not to make use of your talents.”

“Talents?” Kira funneled his gaze towards the floor bashfully. It was a dark red teakwood but polished to a subtle sheen, enough that he could see the vague outlines of his own face. “I don’t really have so many…”

It tickled his ego to be flattered. Respect was a luxury he could not afford since his murky days in the green childhood. In a village with no name, surrounded by people whose faces no longer appeared to him, Kira could only remember the warmth of their admiration and the feeling of ease he experienced. The memories floated about his head, he imagined, like an ethereal red haze. Somehow the music played on Innocentia’s Baryton came to mind, trailing with its pacifying sound the vague sentiments attached to the patches of memory. The environment around him then stuck more firmly in the sediment of his memory than any event or person, of which he could recall almost nothing. How far had he gone without experiencing that softness of his youth; the autumn fall of maple leaves, submerging his body within a torrent of whispering paper in crimson…

Kurogiri wrested his attention back with his measured, mildly theatrical cadence.

“In my time as a researcher, I’ve found that the most capable often sell themselves short. You’re a confident young man. Playing the flagellant doesn’t suit you.”

From his coat pocket, he withdrew a small white stick, a cigarette. But he didn’t smoke on it, for he simply rolled it in his hands. As he spoke, the cigarette danced over and behind his fingers.

“You say ‘I don’t have many talents.’ But I believe that to be truly aware of one’s talents, one must have spent years researching and perfecting many fields. What seems to be an extraordinary handiness for solving a contingency in the present may have been a simple fluke, a convenient decision brought on by external stimulus.”

Kira believed he fully understood what the man said. “So, you mean that maybe people who are talented just get lucky? I’m not really used to compliments.”

“I wouldn’t exactly chalk it up to random chance, but it is true that some people, given certain specific situations, are particularly well adapted for a rise to success. A talent is a particular seed with picky characteristics. It grows only when exposed to the correct conditions for it to sprout, and even that is no guarantee it will properly blossom.”

He raised his face and peered down at Kira over his glasses.

“Modesty is a truly rare virtue. If you are such a modest individual, then, what do you say to repaying me in money for the ‘operation’ I gave you, rather than simply working and additionally earning money and free accommodations?”

Kurogiri’s ever-present smile took on fiendish proportions. “I trust that a young gentleman such as yourself would blanch at the idea of robbing a addle-minded landlord of his valuable earnings?”

“Ah! Well…”

Kira retreated from Kurogiri as much as he could without fleeing the table outright.

“I *am* kinda… rascally…”

He tried to fit himself into the gangster shoes he found himself shoved into so often. Kira imagined himself even more tattooed, wearing a brightly colored Aloha, and missing a pinky finger, sneering stereotypically. It didn’t work.

The knowing man pushed his spectacles up with a quick poke of his finger, grinning lopsidedly. “Very well. I’ll have no choice but to keep my eye on you.”

With that, he turned to his servant, loyally sitting at his side.

“Innocentia, won’t you check on Mr. Aozaki?”

“Aozaki has awoken.” She responded, quite naturally, in monotone, but the air was more familiar. Innocentia rose to her feet. “I shall prepare the entrance.”

“Oh? You don’t often utilize the Qi Men Dun Jia’s divination.” Kurogiri said amusedly. “As expected, you defy expectations even after all this time.”

The girl averted her eyes. “Though praise is welcome, that statement is flawed…” She disappeared into the snowstorm-like hallway of silken shades, fading in amongst the mirage of cloth.

Kira stared blankly. “Keementungya?”

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Pulling off the covers, Takara saw the pale haze of the mid-day light. She hadn’t looked behind her, having been so focused on pretending to be asleep that she indeed dozed off again, but the panoramic window took some getting used to. She swore that her body was suspended over the open air of Akitaka’s ultra-modern commercial urban sprawl, eight stories in the sky, and suddenly felt a spike of disorientation. Her hair drifted across her face as she shook the feeling out of her head and turned away.

“I hadn’t intended to sleep this long.”
Grabbing blindly, she examined her cell phone, which sat within her reach atop the square of folded clothes. 12:43. Her groggy eyes struggled to focus as she began the ponderous task of extracting herself from beneath her comforter. Since her arms were rather limp, Takara slid out from atop the mattress and onto the floor like a worm, rolling over and dragging the blankets with her.

“Ugh.” The girl slowly arose, but her untidy hair darted out in odd directions from the side of the head she’d slept on. Rebellious strands were quickly flattened under her hand as she patted her head, as if confirming it was still there. Takara’s second sleep had been deep enough but withdrawing from that blissfully unconscious state was a long process.

Her mind leapt forward, advancing her rising schedule in a way it rarely did.

“I should call Mother… and Momoko. She’s probably worried sick about me too.” She muttered to herself. The timing was convenient; it was lunch break at her old high school. The former exorcist was almost certainly enjoying one of her more definitive culinary pleasures at that very moment. That made Takara cautious of interrupting her mother’s meal, but it was serious enough that not calling seemed beyond stupidity.

Naturally, Ciel was not to hear any detail whatsoever of Takara's indecent living situation.

She punched in the numbers and raised the small phone, which looked old by modern standards, to her ear. After an unsurprising number of electronic croaks, her mother’s familiar voice emerged on the other end of the line.

“Hello? Takara?”

From her hasty voice, Takara wondered if she’d quickly swallowed her spoonful of the curry to answer.

“Hello mother.” She hadn’t expected her voice to come out so hesitantly. It was likely because Takara anticipated being drawn away from her new school and Momoko when Ciel heard of her beloved daughter’s incident.

There was a measured degree of exuberance in her mother’s voice, just as she’d always been, but of course Ciel began by scolding.

“Really, calling me in the middle of lunch. I thought I’ve taught you better, dear. This is an important time for me after a stressful class. You know how hard a day of work can be!”

A warm smile crossed Takara’s face as she heard her mother’s calming, normalizing voice. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s curry after all.”

“… I wasn’t going to ask.”

Takara’s mother perked up a bit more. A slew of questions battered Takara until she nearly backed away from the speaker.

“How are you enjoying your accommodations? I hope your friend is a good roommate.”

“Erm, Momoko is the same as always.”

“ Are your classes treating you well? Don’t forget to set your alarm far in advance. You know you’re not a morning person.”

“Umm…”

“Have you been getting enough to eat? I know you have a good appetite…”

Takara reddened. She'd hit her daughter's sore spot.
“…I-I’m okay, really. And it’s only the second day.”

“What about men? Any handsome young suitors fussing over my daughter?”

Another sore spot.
“Mother, that’s…”

“Of course, too early for that as well." Despite her words, she sounded almost disappointed, harrowingly enough for Takara. Fortunately, that disappointment gave way to calm understanding.

"You’re so shy, but you wouldn’t be yourself if you took to someone so quickly. And there are so many young ruffians out there these days. It’s relieving that you’re so cautious.”

“…”

Takara looked away from the phone, as if in shame. Her mother knew her so well. Too bad she didn't know Kira. And if she met him...

“Even if he’s just a bother, I’d hate for her to misunderstand if she met that ‘ruffian.’”

“Well, never mind all that. How are you dear? It’s unusual for you to call at a time like this.”

“Well, I’m, er… those things are going well, I guess?”

“That’s good to hear. It’s a rather expensive school after all.”

Takara laughed nervously at her mom’s offhand utterance. That cheerful tone of hers always provoked an unreasonable level of discomfort.

“But it means that you must do your best to study hard, and enjoy yourself.”

Her daughter smiled unconsciously from her end of the line.
“Don’t worry mother. I’m always working my hardest. I know you’re working hard too.”

“Yes.” Ciel’s voice sounded tense. “Especially right now.”

“What’s happening?”

“There’s an inquiry. Apparently Misaki is having problems with students taking part time jobs. Of course we can’t have this, but the administration came to talk to me of all people, and well…”

The rough boy probably worked even when he was in high school. Not that Takara hadn’t considered it once or twice herself, never for lack of money or even a desire to buy something, but simply because the idea of working interested her.

“I see. It must be difficult, mother. Why would they suspect you?”

“Young people will always find a way to misbehave, wherever they are, or whoever they’re around. I wouldn’t excuse them if I found any students taking a job from my class, but I understand their need.”

She couldn’t help but smile at her mother’s moderation of strictness and sensitivity.

“But this isn’t something you need worry about Takara. I’ve been busy, but I still try my hardest to make time for the children, even if my leave is over. I can’t let Hisui monopolize them all.”

“Actually, it’s not the kids I’m worried about.”

Takara gulped. There was a suitable lull in the conversation. Now was the best time to speak straight.

“It’s… me.”

There was silence on the other end of the line. It wasn’t simply that Ciel had stopped making noise of any kind, but all noise from her end had seemingly cut off. For a moment, Takara felt a terrible urge to check her phone’s screen, to see if she had lost the signal. But someone answered back, in a cold voice she hadn’t heard for so long.

“What happened?”

It was not “Ciel the teacher,” or “Ciel the loving parent,” but “Ciel the Executioner” who answered, the call of a voice like cold steel that conveyed mercilessness and an understanding of events far beyond her daughter’s ken. Even though she questioned, Takara felt that the events transpiring had already entered the realm of her mother’s deductions, and shivered slightly. The blue eyes of an assassin, the Vatican’s mageslayer and vampire hunter were as visible to the girl as if Ciel was there at that moment.

“A Dead. No, two of them. And they were strange. I killed them both, but it was… difficult.”

“Difficult.” Ciel echoed, no inflection in her voice to inquire or otherwise.

“I’m… not myself. But I had help, a boy close to my age. And I’m being protected, by a suspicious man. He’s definitely a magus, as well as the man who sent those Dead. I’m not sure I can trust any of them.”

“So that’s why you called.”

“Yes.”

What was this anxiety she felt? Danger to her very life should have been a tantamount concern, but Takara felt that her continued education at Jin-Sei itself was in danger. Her new life was already shattered, so why did she feel it was being threatened when it couldn’t have been damaged any further?

It was Kira. That boy was the reason why she wouldn’t be able to forgive her mother if she was called away from that city. She had no personal feeling of closeness to the boy, but she did have an accursed sense of responsibility that pained her every time she thought of what he’d been through, and the dangerous days that undoubtedly awaited him. She thought of herself, in the early days of the War, and what she knew of her father’s experiences; how confusing and lonely it must have felt. The boy was quickly becoming an iron manacle shackling her to the city, in spite of their adversarial personalities.

“I can tell.” Ciel murmured through the receiver. “I know you like I know your father. Telling you it’s too dangerous to stay is meaningless. You’re an obedient girl, but you inherited his stubbornness.”

Takara was her father’s daughter, and just like the Nanaya God of Death, she couldn’t leave someone who needed her help, or her power, alone.

“Many years ago, I would have called that ‘stupidity,’ something I couldn’t understand. Why he insisted on stupidly involving himself in dangerous things that had nothing to do with him. There was only one reason that bound me to him.”
The nostalgia shined through cracks in the Executioner's voice.

“…” She couldn’t say it outright, but Takara knew. It was the promise of revenge against a hated enemy, the Serpent of Akasha.

“But, as I was a person who lived a life of falsehood, his sincerity was a cruel weapon I couldn’t defeat.”

Warmth returned to Ciel’s voice.

“That idiot. He’d probably still smile and say you could take care of yourself. But I worry more easily with every year that passes. I can’t be so relaxed. Allowing you to face danger by yourself with such immature skills is out of the question.”

Takara felt herself invigorated by the tenderness though her recently conceived pride squirmed at Ciel’s appraisal of her skills as “immature.”

“But I’m not alone. I have…”

Her mother’s tone of voice was low. It was clear that she was taking pains not to let her conversation go overheard. But Takara knew that it was within her mother’s ability to make those who had pried unwelcome into their family concerns forget.

“The magus is who I’m worried about, not the Dead.”

“I don’t mean him. It’s…”

“The boy? It’s probably too late to keep him from getting involved, am I right?”

“Yes. Because I have a responsibility to Kira now.” Takara spoke resolutely.

A twinge of interest colored the woman’s concern. “’Kira…’ So that’s his name.”

“Eh?”

“Never mind. This boy named ‘Killer,’ is he strong?”

“He’s strong but…”

“Naïve I bet. This isn’t a lifestyle anyone should seek out. And the magus?”

“Kurogiri Jin. A ‘supernatural researcher.’”

“Kurogiri… there is a lineage by that name, if I remember correctly. I’ll look into it. For the moment, watch him carefully.”

“Yes mother, I will.”

“I’ll be there soon. Don’t let your guard down for even a moment.”

Takara realized it was illogical to mention, but she had one concern.
“You’re coming here? What about the inquiry? Are you just going to leave?”

A soft laugh. “Do you think any of these academics can keep me from my daughter?”

Takara couldn’t help but breath a sigh of relief, even though she was far from relaxed.
“Thanks mother. I’ll see you soon.”

“Soon. And I love you, Takara. You’re a young lady who can defend herself, but allow me my maternal fretfulness this one time.”

“I know. It means so much to me.”

“You’ll never be alone, dear.”

The call ended. Kira’s face surfaced in her mind as Ciel’s last statement floated through.

“I’ve never been alone.” Whispering to herself those words, she arose, and headed towards the exit.

Opening the door, she almost jumped back a step. The white girl stared back at Takara, with an indifferent gaze that recognized neither her worries nor her fears.

“Mr. Kaede and the Master are awaiting you.”

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Her confidence wavered as she reached the threshold of Kurogiri’s dwelling. Had the girl overheard the phone conversation? The entire time she spent changing into her fresh-smelling school uniform, Innocentia had simply stared blankly at her.

“Relax… it was probably a coincidence she arrived when she did.”
If she were prone to biting her nails, Takara would have chewed them to the thick by then. It seemed like every time Innocentia even so much as glanced at her, a chill ran down her spine. Though her killing instinct seemed to have been suppressed somehow, the personality of Nanaya fading as a distant dream, she still felt a kind of disturbing force emanating from the homunculus. It must have been her own internalized mistrust of Innocentia’s artificial kind.

After nearly losing the tiny girl in the hall of white sheets again, Takara stumbled into Kurogiri’s residence.

“So much for entering with poise.”

The owner smiled in obvious delight, and Kira, who was seated across from him, turned to Takara with a far more natural and typical grin.

“Hey. Had trouble getting up, I see.”

Recalling the image of Kira undressing earlier that morning sparked latent hostility in Takara, though she was logical enough to know it was childish.

“Be quiet.”

“Mr. Aozaki.”

Kurogiri’s trademark manner of addressing her arrested Takara’s attention. Her eyes set upon him as he tilted his head to the side one notch.

“It goes without saying that you slept well. But I am curious, not to be too hasty of course: have you given thought to my work offer since last night?”

Takara’s answer: a flat “No.”

At her word, Kira’s jaw dropped slightly, and she could tell a stammering, instinctive response was on the verge of bursting from him. Was he disappointed, or simply confused? A good look from Takara reassured him into silence. In contrast, the bespectacled man didn’t seem to react. His placid face held its expression throughout his questioning.

“Quite the decisive person I see. To be honest, it disappoints me a little, but it impresses more still. So,” Kurogiri narrowed his eyes to slits like razor wire. “If I may be so bold, I would like to inquire as to the reasoning behind your choice. I’m a curious man.”

Maintaining a cooler head than she’d expected herself capable of, Takara looked down on the seated man before seating herself beside Kira, folding her legs beneath her.

“I did reject your proposal of a job offer. However, I will assist Kira. I’ve taken it upon myself to aid him in any way I can. I can’t allow myself to be your employee, but last night, he and I decided he would benefit from my help.”

“Interesting. So the prospect of monetary gain does not interest you. You are a walking complex of surprises, Mr. Aozaki.” For a moment, the man’s cyan eyes flickered to his own wrist, as if examining a watch, though no such thing was there.

Kira squirmed once or twice, words drumming about behind his closed lips, but he remained quiet.

“I thank you for your hospitality, and for rescuing Kira and I, but I didn’t feel it was in my best interest to enter a business relationship with you without some firsthand experience of what your job entails.”

Kurogiri laughed dryly, leaning back in amusement. “Well then, the mop and vacuum are stored in the lobby service closet. If you want, you can get started immediately, with some instruction from Innocentia.”

Takara shook her head. “I wasn’t referring to that. Rather, I wanted to understand what your various ‘odd jobs’ referred to, and accompany Kira on his first assignment.”

At this, the “professor’s” eyes lit up.

“And so the plot thickens. I simply couldn’t refuse your unorthodox terms. But if at any time you wish to receive payment for your efforts, I won’t hold you to your decision here, you know.”

“You’re too kind, Mr. Kurogiri.”

“Oho, don’t flatter me. More importantly, Kira…”

Kurogiri turned his head smoothly to speak with his new servant.

“Yes?”

“Innocentia will escort you downstairs. Mr. Aozaki will be down shortly with your first assignment.” He cupped his chin with long fingers that rapped the edge of his jaw. “I was intending to set you immediately to janitor duties but the building is rather clean. That was when I had a wonderful idea. But first, I have something private to discuss with Mr. Aozaki.”

The tanned boy could only blink in confusion. Wasn’t he the one Kurogiri hired? What sort of business did he have with Takara?
It was too early to risk bothering the man, so he decided not to ask questions just yet.

“Uh, right. See you in a bit, Takara.”

Kira murmured warily before turning to follow the white ghost out again. Takara and Kurogiri remained alone at the table.

For the first time, the two supernatural beings were able to speak freely, without the disruptive presence of an outsider among them.

“Well then,” Kurogiri spoke with slowly drawn breath. “You may be a complex of surprises, but most of all surprising to me was your name, Mr. Aozaki.”

Takara narrowed her eyes defensively. She’d realized it earlier, but Innocentia had removed her knife. There was no way to know if she would have need of it soon, but Kurogiri’s subtle atmosphere gave little in the way of inroads; the pathway to his intentions was blocked by mists as impermeable as the silken veils lining his entryway.

“My name interests you, does it?”

“Yes. For you are not of the same blood as The Magic Gunner. So then…” Kurogiri’s everlasting smile took on an entirely new form of fiendish curiosity.

“Who are you?”

[Kieran]

The "Mr." bit confused me for a second - but then I remembered having this conversation already.

[Cascade]

Well, if I were to render it in Japanese, it'd be "Aozaki-kun," which doesn't necessarily mean male in a business setting but is typically associated with males. The idea is that Kurogiri talks like a manager speaking to one of his underlings, and uses pronouns and honorifics typically used by the very elderly. You could use -kun to refer to a younger boy or personally familiar boy, but I've heard of it being used in business settings, ostensibly to promote a sense of closeness and friendliness while still maintaining a professional distance. Girls are also called -kun like men in business and politics by people of higher rank, but as Takara is not employed by Kurogiri, that can't be the reason why he uses it.

Although I initially shied away from it, I might do those in my actual update, which I'm working on right now. It is more natural than having to explain it, though I am sort of loathe to selectively "translate" the dialogue.

[Cascade]

When Kira exited the room, looking quite content, Takara could have sworn the temperature around her dropped by several degrees. She realized that the bespectacled magus had set his eyes upon her once more, listing contentedly to his right as he set his cheek upon his palm. The look in his gaze celebrated the fact that he’d finally gotten her alone, as if Kira presence alone would thwart his efforts to communicate properly with her. Kurogiri seemed quite relieved.

“Aozaki. I haven’t heard that name spoken to me since…”
Kurogiri’s voice trailed off. He fiddled carelessly with the glass of tea in his other hand. Its circular base rotated about on the table’s wooden surface as he spoke.

“Hah. My memory fails me yet again. And it was on the cusp of my tongue too.” He prodded his skull with an extended finger, jokingly. It was unnaturally childish despite his gentlemanly deportment.

“’When you’ve lived as long as I have, you tend to forget a lot of things?’” Takara imagined him inevitably chortling out, but she kept it to herself.

“But, you’re quite the enigma, Mr. Aozaki. That’s an uncommon name. A famous one amongst ‘our’ kind, even. I’m sure you’re aware.”

His voice curled about Takara’s ear like a wisp of smoke. The chill returned to notice. Moving on her knees without thinking, she put more space besides just the table between Kurogiri and herself.

“You flatter me, but I… I don’t feel particularly special or anything myself…” False modesty would, perhaps, defuse his curiosity.

It was strange. More than anything the environment she was in diluted her mind. Within the aged wooden walls it felt as though Takara’s self was being compromised. It wasn’t a malicious feeling, like feeling the murderous intent of others, or the newly familiar sensation of being drugged. Was it simply the building Kurogiri lived in? He himself had mentioned that the Great Cormorant was drafted with one hand on the pen and one on a Daoist geomancy manual. As such, it was an unnatural place that trapped energy and directed its flow as irrigation commanded water. The mana of the surrounding environment was never stationary. Though her innate sense of its flow was natural, she only needed be conscious enough to avoid being swept along in its waves.

Kurogiri chuckled at her dense act. The laugh had more spirit in it than his typical dry one.

“Of course, it is also a name that has drawn a significant amount of infamy. Envy is wedded to status and power.”

“I’m aware of the reputation behind the name, yes.”

“Then, I assume you know the Magic Gunner, Aoko Aozaki. I’d be surprised if you didn’t, even if you weren’t of her blood.”

Kurogiri drummed his fingers once more in that androgynous way, and yet his relaxed posture seemed somehow more rigid, steeled. Takara was unsure what to make of it. She thought more quickly than she had in months. It even afforded her enough time to consider why she didn’t think with that kind of speed during her college entrance exams.

What to say of Aoko? Her aunt was a walking catastrophe waiting to unleash its fury. Though at times she seemed mysterious and distant, to Takara, Aoko was only her Aunt, and it was difficult to reconcile the image of her as a flighty, free-spirited relative with the dreadful image of the human wrecking machine and possessor of the ultimate destructive magic. Such a name and such a title were magnets for unwanted attention of the worst kind. Those less talented, those with a grudge, and those who simply wanted to etch their name into the secret history of magic would have resorted to more worldly tactics if confronted with the unenviable task of taking on Miss Blue. In particular, kidnapping hostages came to mind. Takara didn’t feel any ill will from the smiling, polite man, but his questioning was already moving on a dangerous path.

Still, that twitch in his body might have been the window into Kurogiri’s opaque mind. Takara knew that emotion well, or at least guessed that his moment of inconsistent behavior hinted at it. Of all the emotions for a magus of some repute to feel towards Aoko Aozaki, fear was the most likely emotion.

“Yes.” Takara stated with finality. “She is my sister.”

Were Aoko truly Takara’s sister, she was sure the “magic researcher” wasn’t quite confident enough to cavalierly risk certain atomization, no matter how accomplished Innocentia claimed he was.

Kurogiri, however, did not react as expected. He rose from his leaning elbow and held his chin thoughtfully. A calm smile plastered his face, empty as ever.

“And that there is where the enigma begins,” he mused, “behind that face of yours, I grasp something comfortingly familiar. An echo of like individuals met in the past. It is true that I have crossed paths with those of the name Aozaki before, though never with that sister of yours. A remarkable woman, though sadly the majority of things I’ve heard about her, I wouldn’t dare relate to you. Still, definitely familiar…”

A pause. He leveled a finger at Takara casually, pushing its tip in a circle. “But familiar as you are, it’s a different nostalgia entirely.”

She resisted gulping. Did Kurogiri call her bluff?

The man flippantly continued, wearing that grin and casting a knowing sidelong glance at Takara, but if he was skeptical of his guest, he did not breech his silence. He rose from his seat in a way that reminded Takara of an old man, mindful of his weak back.

“In any case, your ‘potential’ is certainly up to par with the Aozaki reputation. My friend, don’t treat it so lightly. Being exceptional and known is a rare ‘treasure.’ in this impersonal modern age.”

Kurogiri smirked, amused at his own pun on her name. She hated being drawn into the man’s pace, but Takara wanted to breathe out, releasing the anxiety that had built up in her chest over that charade.

“Most human beings are “eyeless” today. The sublime haze of immediacy conceals everything before us. You were fortunate enough to need not earn your eyes, and found your way, as so many others have struggled to amongst our number.”

He extended his hand, ostensibly to raise Takara up. “I am satisfied, Aozaki-kun. So sorry to detain you. If you will, we should enjoy a glass of tea together some time in the future.”

Takara declined his gentile offer, standing up on her own and keeping her distance. “I’ve said almost nothing. Your hospitality is undeserved, but thank you, Mr. Kurogiri.”

He folded his empty hand upon his chest.

“Kurogiri is fine. So is Professor, though it’s been ages, and if you requested to see my doctorate, I’m afraid it too has been lost to the years.”

An almost feminine wink punctuated his words. “Grandpa isn’t bad either. Though, you’re already professional at your age. Courteous and succinct. I like that. ‘Mr Kurogiri’ would suit someone like you just fine.”

His voice seemed just slightly more hollow, and lonely, but he invited her towards the exit with typical poise. As they left, Takara realized what to say, to break the discomforting silence her defensiveness had created, in her efforts to keep her identity secret.

“What about ‘Marcel?’”

Kurogiri halted mid-stride. An impish gleam was hidden in the brilliance of his unnatural cyan gaze.

“Oh that… I’d advise you against using it around Innocentia.” He chuckled. “She wouldn’t like it very much.”

Takara settled on simply “Mr. Kurogiri.”


They went immediately downstairs upon exiting Kurogiri’s house of shades. To Takara, it seemed as if the miniature pavilion ceased to exist once back inside the building interior, and for all she knew, it did. He led her to the lounge and bar where they had met Innocentia that night, where the homunculus and Kira were waiting.

Both sat at the bar. Innocentia’s ivory legs were too short to reach the floor, but Kira was virtually standing. At the sight of Takara and Kurogiri, the boy, who was leaning over the counter perked up instantly.

“Oh, you’re here! Are you two already finished?”

“I wasn’t quite sure of just who the young master Aozaki truly was.” Kurogiri nodded.

“Now I feel quite a bit confident in my understanding of the both of you.”
He turned to his left, a sinuous motion: Kurogiri’s one eye peeked out from over his spectacles’ lens towards Takara in what couldn’t have been anything but a visual elbow-nudge.

The blinking was a sure sign of Kira’s confusion. No matter. He’d write it off as personal business he’d wrangle out of her anyway, Takara figured.

“I’ve decided to ride upon this new wave of confidence and send you on your new assignment early.”

This pleased Kira more greatly, who had thought of little but his new career since the night before, even in light of the bizarre events surrounding them.

“All right, what’cha got planned? You want me to get started cleaning the building? What first? Toilets? Carpet? Polish the lobby floor?”

Kurogiri smiled flatly. “… No.”

“Oh… Right.”

“It’s an ‘odd job,’ one of the ones I mentioned when describing the position. Oh, but don’t take it as representative of the job in general; just these little errands I don’t have time to run.”

“Little errands.” Takara murmured under her breath, taking her seat next to Kira at the bar counter.

The man peered through his glasses at his wrist and palm like he was reading the face of a watch.

“Normally I’d handle entertaining little trivialities such as this myself, but am acquisition opportunity for my collection presented itself, and having just been informed last night, I’m afraid I don’t have the luxury of time. There is an urgent flight to the mainland I must catch.

He sighed and grasped his brow with a solemn shake of his head.

“On the positive side, this is the usual for me. Auctions, private sales; not everything in the world happens on this tiny island. I have trips like this ranging anywhere from twenty to a hundred times in a single year.”

Takara’s eyes fluttered. “Huh? In how long? If you don’t mind me asking.”

The professor waved it off. “Oh, in a bit less than an hour.”

The nearest airport was in Tokyo itself. Driving from Akitaka through the mountain highways and into the metropolitan area at that time of day was out of the question. Even taking the train was a dicey proposition. Even then, Takara couldn’t imagine someone as ostentatious as this white suited gentleman cramming himself into the sardine cans thousands of people took on their daily commute as if he was just another salary-man. She balked. And to think Kurogiri had to be ready to drop everything and travel overseas simply in order to attend some auction

“Wow. This man is a lot busier than I gave him credit for…”

Kira glanced at Innocentia. Naturally, she was entirely motionless and blank, ignorant or uncaring towards the pressure in his gaze.

“She must be left alone here all the time. I feel kinda bad for the kid.”

Kurogiri chuckled. “Not to worry. This is all part of my typical schedule. I’m quite the seasoned traveler, and a meticulous planner, ready for any contingency-“

At this, Innocentia seemed to glare ever so slightly.

“With some help of course. Still, it’s difficult to anticipate these sorts of things, even for a man of my experience. Miraculous items and antiques of considerable value pop up wherever they please, regardless of your convenience. Though I had little time to prepare last night to this morning, Innocentia and I did our best to set things in order for you, Mr. Kaede.” He nodded to Takara. “As well as for you, Mr. Aozaki, should you choose to accompany him.“

Kira nodded. “There’s no need to come along if you don’t feel like it. It’s my assignment, after all.”

Though there was definitely some uncertainty in his voice, he seemed confident enough.

“Well… Actually, I was planning on giving something to Mr. Aozaki regardless, but…”

Kira’s jaw nearly came unhinged, before he stuffed his confusion back down his throat and silenced himself. An abortive “Wha-“ managed to flee from his mouth.

“But she’s not even your employee. Hey, what the hell’s going on here? Where’s your luggage? And why do you keep calling her Mr.?”

Kurogiri prudently ignored Kira’s visible mental tangling and grinned to both of them with anticipation in his smile.

“Anyways, I must be going, so here are your instructions. In truth, there are two things you must do for me.”

His white-gloved hand shot out. In it, two white paper envelopes, and a large yellow mail package.

“Take this yellow envelope to the Civic Development and Business centre, third floor. It’s on Sakunami Street; you can get there by using the Ocean Line subway. It’s brand new. Best of all, it’s free for students. Doesn’t that make you feel cared for?”

Kurogiri commented in a voice somewhere in the no-man’s-land between good humor and sarcasm.

“They shall be open until four. Don’t feel too pressured to rush over. But when you do, ask for Mr. Murakami, or his secretary, most likely the later. She’s a bit hard to notice.” He stifled a laugh. “Her shadow is so thin only a snake could hide in it. I’m afraid I don’t know her by name, but I’d prefer you handed it personally to either of them.”

Kira nodded as he accepted the items. The yellow envelope was heavy enough and flat. He was certain a book was inside. But as for the white envelopes, they were tiny, barely large enough to contain a business card. There didn’t seem to be anything in them at all.

“Tell them I sent you. And be sure not to forget the ‘Dr,’ please.”

“Dr. Kurogiri, huh? Got it. And what about these?”

“Oh, those? They’re just some throwaway trinkets I’d like the two of you to have. Hold onto them for me.”

The boy wanted to scratch his head. Empty, tiny envelopes especially effective at getting lost in the mail: How incredibly exciting.

Perhaps there was more to it, he thought. Stranger things had happened lately. The envelopes were, after all, sealed. Whatever was inside was so slight as to have no noticeable weight. Kira resisted the urge to open them, which was fortunate, as the man almost immediately took back the two white rectangles.

“Excuse me. I should have mentioned; this one is for Mr. Aozaki, and this one is yours.” The man stated apologetically, divvying out the two perfectly identical white envelopes.

Takara took hers with a curious stare, not directed at the gift but at its giver.

“Thank you, but I’m a bit startled by all this. I’m not your employee, so I don’t see why I should receive a gift from you so suddenly.” She suppressed her feelings of incredulity, the selfsame as Kira’s, and treated it as she would any other present. “Sorry, but I cannot accept this.”

Kurogiri, however, was already waving her off with his hand and turning towards the door. “Please, please, dispense with the unnecessary politeness, really. I’m sure you both were all too eager to get your grubby fingers on those two treasures. Lucky you; I’ve already forgotten handing them out.”

He paused near the glass doors to the street. The light and movement behind him seemed like a flow out of sync from the static, quiet interior of the Cormorant.

“Innocentia.”

“Yes Marcel.” A trickling of life flowed into the inert, white doll.

“I’ll be back shortly. Take care of things in my absence as usual. See to it that our new associate and his friend are well-cared for.”

“As you wish.”

With that, the unknowable man stepped out, taking his time, as expected. Innocentia stood perfectly still, watching the exit in silence for a moment.

“Getting lonely already?” Kira questioned, hands folded in his pockets.

The girl didn’t answer, only turning away from them and walking off, the quiet taps of her shoes and that pale hair her erstwhile followers.

Kira scratched his head, grinning lopsidedly. He was a mess of discomfort and awkwardness.
“…Did I offend her somehow?”

“Don’t worry about it too much.”
Takara deadpanned, narrowing her eyes and walking past him towards the exit. They had all they needed, their clothes having been delivered last night, along with her school materials, though Takara’s knife was still missing. She didn’t have a mind to find it, however. The weapon was in terrible shape after the previous night’s battle. A cheap clasp knife like that would wear to dullness cutting through stiff, necrotic flesh and clashing against harder metals. Locating another was high on her list of immediate priorities. Without the knife, she wouldn’t be able to sleep again, except when exhausted to the point of collapse.


They were greeted with a reviving breeze and a sun as blithely optimistic as the night before was sullen. Although weary and disoriented after their whirlwind of experiences, the two felt the atmosphere normalize, in a loose sense. For certain, Kira felt ready to take to the assignment as a new employee, ignoring his dual instincts of fascination and trepidation in light of Kurogiri’s supernatural nature. Money was money, no matter who wrote the check, and while Kira would be choosy, passing up the opportunity was an impossibility for him. A rich man with a generous streak, with a mild degree of fame hampered solely by his reclusive nature; Kira saw in his future the possibly of insinuating himself into civic jobs, with security and benefits he’d previously only even dreamt of.

Takara on the other hand mulled over what she had seen and felt since coming to Akitaka. Strange Dead with an enervating perfume. An inability to use her Eyes properly. Nanaya’s inconvenient silence, or rather, total disappearance. A magus who behaved magnanimously, when his kind were at heart a self-centered lot. The objective of magic was to reach the Root, the cosmic program, for one’s self. Surely unlimited knowledge and power would follow. But magic had strength inversely proportional to its obscurity in the world. The more known it was, the weaker it became, and the secrecy of the magi was near-insanity. One who freely aided others who might not be magi themselves, on the other hand, seemed beyond mundane insanity.

“Are you really okay with this?”

Takara winced a bit as the wind caught her hair, dark strands traversing her face. She cupped her hand and brushed it aside, watching Kira as he casually stuffed his hands in his pockets, a satisfied grin on his face.

“I’ve secured my food again. True, I’ve got my reservations. He’s a sketchy guy.” He glanced at her from the side. “But I figured I’d meet someone like him eventually. He’s got a full plate for me to scrounge off of, and I’m desperate.”

She stepped to his side.
“Mmm, I suppose that’s true. I wanted to warn you to be careful. But I keep forgetting that for you, maybe there isn’t any other choice.”

Rather suddenly, Takara turned her cheek and frowned, raising her chin.
“…Just take responsibility for your actions! I won’t save you if you get into trouble of your own accord.”

A sigh secreted itself out from its hiding place in her chest.

“You’ve entered a dangerous new lifestyle. This isn’t the same as construction work where you might get injured or crippled, or even turning to crime, where you might die. Yet you’re acting like it’s just another job.”

He played with his hair band again, the accompanying smile not entirely carefree.

“Would you prefer I reacted some other way? I guess I just don’t know how.”

Kira could only laugh, a slightly nervous tremor surfacing but being submerged in the light of his smile.

“Haha, you know I’m thick headed, Takara.”

“You can retain the honorific, you know.”

“Oh yeah. Sorry. Anyway, isn’t that Peach Girl worrying about you?”

His arm jabbed down the street rather loosely. It seemed Kira knew the way back to the plaza where they first met. As there were still a few hours until the centre closed, stopping by the dorm to let Momoko know she was okay was reasonable. Takara cringed at the thought of Momoko crying away in their room, wondering why she hadn’t arrived yet to help her thin out the ever-growing surplus of sweets.

That wasn’t all of course. She must have been worried half-mad.
“Yeah. Well… I thought it wouldn’t be correct for me to just leave.”

“Huh, what kind of heartless guy do you take me for?” He waved his hand, shooing her away. “Go on, get out of here. Check on her already.”

“But, that’s…”

Kira unexpectedly leaned forward, eyeing Takara. His grin took on more sly qualities.
“Could it be that you don’t know the way back?”

“That’s… natural! We woke up in an unfamiliar place, and I’m still new to this city.”

“Oh? Aren’t you taking a risk, relying on a country bumpkin like me to lead you by the nose?”

He almost lost his balance as Takara roughly grabbed him by the front of his tank top and pulled him with her, treading heavily on the ground with a stiff, angry posture.

“Be quiet and navigate!”



After a long and uncomfortably paced walk through the city’s many-themed streets, the two of them passed the shopping district with the neon signs, dull and lifeless as the sunlight supplanted their glow. Kira and Takara proceeded more slowly, with greater awareness, beyond that point, and found themselves at the diverging streets near the plaza. There were not many cars, but the number of pedestrians was strangely modest for a metropolitan center in such a densely populated country. Although large in size for a newly developed city, Akitaka’s population was still small. Many citizens opted for the developing public transportation system, due to its convenient routes and affordable pricing. Thus the streets were a calm and relatively un-crowded place even during the day, though the business districts at lunchtime seemed more like they belonged in Tokyo.

In what seemed like minutes, the two arrived at Takara’s dormitory. As modern as any of the other Jin-Sei associated buildings, it was a first-year women’s residence hall with a long rectangular shape. The design made much of it appear to be suspended over the parking lot on pillars, but as not many students had cars of their own, the majority of the asphalt space went unused. Despite being an urban neighborhood, the dormitory was located in a relatively quiet spot, removed from the street and connected by a wide alleyway. The location was overall fairly open, well lit and safe-at least during the day. Takara wondered if she could feel comfortable sleeping there that coming night.

As they entered the building lobby, Takara noticed Kira’s usually relaxed posture go tense. He must have noticed that there seemed to be only women around. A boy who already stood out had a natural sense of when and where he didn’t belong, but the stares Kira was getting, and Takara by association, carried a different meaning than suspicion or distaste.

“Huh? Who is he?”

“He looks Okinawan.”

“Hm? That new first year?”

“Maybe he’s her boyfriend.”

Listening to the whispers surrounding them as they ventured through the common area and stood awkwardly in front of the elevator, Takara felt her face growing hot. It hadn’t occurred to her the insinuations she’d naturally attract if she returned to her dorm with Kira. Perhaps taking him along was not a very wise decision.

It wasn't too difficult to understand. Kira was going to turn heads like a police siren, and they were was right in the middle of an estrogen farm. To his credit, Kira, for all his confidence, seemed distinctly uncomfortable at being eyed like dinner from all sides.

They stepped into the elevator, passing a suspicious older student who eyed Kira with an expression that questioned his presence there. After the doors had canned them in their silent little container, an uncomfortable moment passed in total stillness.

“Takara.”

Kira’s voice made her jump.

“Don’t forget the honorific here!” The red-faced girl half-whispered, in absence of any need to be silent.

“Er, s-sorry. Guys aren’t supposed to be here, are they?”

Despite his confident posture and swaggering walk, for a moment, Kira looked as embarrassed as she was. There was a slight redness in the darker skin on his face. This emboldened Takara. At least one of them needed to act normally.

“What’s the matter?” Kira snatched back a bit of his normal self with an awkward gulp. “Normally, wouldn’t being tied up with a guy like me be a misunderstanding you’d wanna invite?”

Takara sighed. “At least sound a little more confident if you’re going to just start teasing me as usual.”

“Hey. I’m used to being stared at… Just not that used to being around so many girls. Can you blame me?”

“Tch. I’ll bet.”

She depressed the button for her floor.

“Yes. I don’t think I really need to state the rules about having boys around. Please try not to draw unnecessary attention to yourself.” Takara mused, curling her index finger beneath her chin as their mutual blush subsided. “I should have come back on my own and left him somewhere *far away.*”

“Yeah… I’ll try to.”

It was fairly typical for a college to have strict rules in their residence halls about visits from the opposite sex. Walking around with an undeniably handsome boy like Kira was already a cause for suspicion, but his imprudent over-familiarity with Takara would be a trigger for innumerable irritating conversations in the future. The misfit mixed first year and her tanned, uncouth country “boyfriend”: The true nature of their complex acquaintance would boil the minds of any normal college student, so even an embarrassing, stereotypical misunderstanding would be preferable to that. Still, she couldn’t help but want to be seen as distant from Kira as possible.

The hallway where she’d found her room was clean, as if the building’s modern exterior hermetically sealed all its inhabitants in the purest environment possible. Takara walked up to her door hastily, Kira keeping pace with his long stride.

“I hope Momoko is in here. It’s Sunday, so there’s no class.”

She slid her student card through the lock, simultaneously putting a hand to Kira’s chest and pushing him back with a cold look. “Stay.”

Kira frowned, but apart from that, didn’t object. The boy turned away, seeming miffed in the way he crossed his arms. She cracked open the door.

A light, cool breeze, as if the room was exposed to the elements, rushed from the door as it came ajar. Through that small window into their chamber, she could see a vision of chaos. Dressers opened, clothing and underwear strewn in every direction, storage bins overturned, their content streaming about the floor.

“… Momoko?”

She had barely a moment to react before a strong hand swerved round the door’s edge and seized her roughly by the arm, dragging her inside.

[Kieran]

"Eyeless" - now there's a hint that he knows who she is if I ever heard one.

And the irony just struck me now, of your protagonist being named "Kira," given that Takara's personality was originally based on Cagalli . . . I'm sure it's a coincidence, but it's funny.

[Cascade]

Rofl, well his personality is a lot different from the infamous Jesus Yamato though. XD

I was kind of thinking of Yakumo from 3x3 eyes when I made him and Juusawa Juu from Denpateki na Kanojo. Kurogiri was originally inspired by Friagne from Shakugan no Shana. Innocentia is Jase's character.