Disclaimer: I own nothing
Alright, this'll be my first story posted here. And it's a oneshot to boot. Well, whatever, hope you guys enjoy it. I'm very open to criticism about this one since this'll be my first ever completed story. Anyway, this is a DxD X Fate one shot. Enjoy.
XxX
“Mommy, why is that girl leaning on the Cross like that?”
“Shh, don’t point and shout at her. She might hear you. Come on let’s go.”
“Hey, it’s the-“ “Shh, she might hear you.” “But doesn’t she-“ “I don’t know, let’s just go.”
These were just some conversations she could hear as people passed her form. She couldn’t see them of course, since her head was firmly buried in between her knees as she rolled up into a ball on the cross behind her. But she could imagine just fine. Imagine the sneering looks, the accosted glances, and even the outright disdain as people walked by her form.
It wasn’t like it was her fault too! She didn’t know! Why were they punishing her when she didn’t know?!
She calmed herself. No, that’s not right. The Church is a good organization. She shouldn’t let her anger blind her. She believed in the Church, in her beliefs, and in God. So maybe she did deserve this? Maybe she deserved being excommunicated? There must have been signs that she was healing a devil. So that’s why she was excommunicated, because she wasn’t thinking and just moved too fast. Yes, that has to be the reason.
Even though her words were reassuring, she felt even more miserable as she repeated them into her mind.
“Hey!” She looked up, surprised at having heard a voice so near her. She caught sight of an unruly man with a mop of black hair almost like seaweed. His movement was haggard and the brown paper bag in his hands that outlined a bottle told her all she needed about the man. Add that with the smell he was giving off, and then she knew she was dealing with a drunkard.
She rolled herself into a ball even more. People sneering and glancing at her she could handle, but she had dealt with drunkards before, they always beat her. Always shouting at her, telling her she was a “Devil worshiper!” Or “Witch!” And no matter how many times she denied the claims, telling them that she believed in God, they wouldn’t stop hitting her. More than once she was forced to use her own powers on herself to prevent herself from dying.
She heard the man’s approaching footsteps. She readied herself to get kicked. So she was surprised to hear the man dumping himself down right next to her, on the cross. She looked up at the man in surprise, before that surprise turned into an uncomfortable stare. The man smelled like urine. He must have urinated in his pants sometime during his drinking spree.
“Ya got’a sad face ther missy.” The man’s words were slurred, and his movements were erratic. She had to move away from the man to prevent the man from hitting against her with his swinging head.
She didn’t respond, and only looked at the man with curious eyes. Usually, a drunk man would have already hit her, but this one was striking up a conversation with him. She wondered why?
“Don’t ya looka me like shat!” Again the man’s voice was slurred. “I’mma *hic* excuthives!” The man said as he pointed a thumb at his chest.
Again she didn’t respond, choosing only instead to look at the man right next to her.
The man gave her a toothy grin, showing off pearly whites. It was then she realized just what the man was wearing. An office suit, unkempt, but obviously expensive. She wondered why the man was drinking himself into a stupor and had wet himself with such an expensive suit. So she voiced out that question, tenderly asking why.
The man’s grin only widened. “Justa got a permotion!” Permotion? Promotion? She asked, trying to clarify. The man nodded his head at her. “Yah, thash it, a permotion! To Exchecutive dereactor.”
“Should you be here?” She asked, a little too quickly. It wasn’t like she didn’t enjoy having someone to talk to. But she was a little put-off by the fact that the man was still drinking while leaning against the Holy Cross. She understood drinking to celebrate, but he really should just go home.
“Don’tchu worry bout me missy!” The man spoke with a jovial tone. “’Also that everyone should eat and dwink and take pleshure in all his toil- this ish God’s gift to man!’” She recognized the verse. Ecclesiastes 3:13.
“But you shouldn’t drink too much. It’s bad for your health.” She responded, sounding worried as she stretched over towards the man. She was happy that someone was celebrating God’s gift to them. But he should learn how to pace himself, it wouldn’t do him good if he just up and died of liver failure.
The man however, just waved her off. “Don’t chu worry bout me.” He repeated. He then pointed his wrapped bottle at her. “Whasa bout you though? Ya look like ya’s got something heavy on yer mind. Too heavy fer celebratin.”
Her mood soured, and she found herself balling up again. She didn’t like thinking about her circumstances. Even though they were rightly justified.
“I don’t want to talk about it.” She responded, oddly cold. She hated being cold towards people, that wasn’t her. But… this particular subject made her bitter.
“Suits yerself.” The man next to her began to stand up. “Here.” She blinked as the man suddenly held the bag in front of her face. She recoiled a little at the strong smell. It smelled like whiskey… or was it rum? She wasn’t sure since she didn’t drink. “Yous look likes you neehds it morsh.”
“Oh no.” She pushed the bottle towards the man. “I don’t drink.” She tried it once, with wine. She didn’t like the taste.
“Come on!” The man half-whined half-egged her on. “Itsh nothing sho bad. Drinking to help you celebrate is fine. But drinking to forget your worrish is fine-er.” No. It wasn’t. She wanted to say, but was cut off as the man continued. “Take it from the man that lost his previous job to get into this one!”
She looked up at the man, unsure if what he was true. Before she realized, the man had no reason to lie to her. She then cast her gaze at the bottle in the bag. Before she reached up for it, tentatively at first. Maybe God had different plans for her? Maybe this was his way of saying that she should drink, and she’ll find another way to Him?
But before she could grab the bottle, before she could even reach an inch to it even. Another man made himself known. A hand reached out and gripped her own, tightly at first, before it relented as she flinched. She looked towards the owner of the hand, and saw a man with red hair and silver outlines on it staring at the drunken man with cold eyes.
“You shouldn’t encourage minors to drink Mister.” The newcomer’s voice wasn’t cold. But it was warning.
She looked back towards the drunken man, who shrugged his shoulders. “Looked like she needed a drink.”
Surprisngly, the man’s voice turned sober. She looked up at the man’s face, only to see the previously warm and drunken face turn cold and calculating.
The hand on her let go, and she pulled it in close. It hurt a little, but it wasn’t something she couldn’t live with. She could heal it, but her powers had always been for others and not herself. That’s the reason half the time she was beat by drunkards she only healed herself until all the lasting damage was gone. She didn’t bother with bruises or anything of the sort.
“She does, doesn’t she?” She looked up at the man with strange red/gray hair. Before she saw the man nod. “Alright then, I’ll take her to a place she can get a drink. You should get home mister. No telling what a drunk guy like you’ll get himself into.” The man emphasized the word drunk, before he narrowed his eyes at the drunken man.
She turned towards the man, and to her horror, he could see him sneering at her. He let out a “Feh!” Before he spit at her and turned around. “Whatever. This shit ain’t worth dealing with.” She watched the man walk away from them, before she turned towards the man that had driven the only person that was giving her their time to talk.
She was about to ask why he did that, but before she could, the man pointed towards where the drunk man was leaving. She looked towards it, confused as to why he would tell her to. Before she saw, to her horror, the man getting into a white van. She only caught a glimpse of what was inside the van, but from the sneering looks and noticeable number of men inside, she didn’t need to see anything else. She was an airhead most of the time, but she understood something dangerous when she saw it.
She watched as the van drove away, disappearing into a corner. Before she turned towards the man that had saved her. “Thank you.” She said honestly.
She was surprised to see the man blink and look at her in confusion. “For what?” He asked, honestly sounding like he didn’t know what he did.
“Err, for saving me.” She stuttered a little. Why was the man confused? Hadn’t he known he was saving her?
“Oh, that.” The man dismissed with a wave. “Don’t worry about it. Anyone would have done the same.”
At his words, she curled herself up into a ball. If someone had told her those same words in the exact same circumstances a few months prior, she would have agreed. Now though, after everything she’s been through, not anymore. “No they wouldn’t have.” She was surprised at the tone she used, but the words had come naturally. Bitter, but it was the truth. No one would have bat an eyelash if she was abducted right here on the street.
She heard the man shuffle right next to her. “Yes, they would have.” She was surprised at the tone he used. So sure, so convinced. She wanted to argue, but the next words that came out of her mouth wasn’t an argument, but a question.
“How did you know?” She asked, turning back towards the man. The man shrugged, the red shawl around his neck moving as his shoulders rolled.
“Saw the guy getting out of the van.” He answered her, before he shrugged again. “Besides, it’s two in the afternoon. No one gets drunk this early in the day. Even Fuji-nee.” The last part was whispered, but she heard it just fine.
She flushed as she digested his words though. Right, she should have been suspicious; the man was drunk this early in the day? How could she be so naïve?
She bit her lower lip; maybe she really should have been excommunicated. If she can’t even tell a drunk man wasn’t drunk at all, then how could she ever see what a devil is?
“You okay though?” The man next to her asked, concern was laced in his voice. “You didn’t drink from the thing did you?”
“What?” She looked up, surprised at the question. Before she realized what it was he was asking about. “No!” She denied shaking her head. “I haven’t…” Her voice died down. But she wished she did. She wanted to know if the man’s words were true. If drinking would help her.
“But you wanted to.” She blinked as the man sighed. How did he…?
“Alright.” The man nodded his head before he turned towards her. “You want to know if drinking will help right?” The man asked her. She nodded her head. She then realized the man seemed to know she had a problem, but before she could ask how, he was already moving forward. Away from her. “I’ll set you up. Follow me.”
She blinked and stared at the retreating form of the man. The shawl around his neck and shoulders trailing as he walked away. She idly wondered if she should follow him, if she should trust him. But then the man stopped, and then raised his hand to smack himself on the face. She heard him mutter something, before he turned around and back towards her.
“Sorry.” He apologized as he approached her. He sounded genuine enough. “Should have thought this through. You wouldn’t readily follow a stranger after what almost happened to you.” He stopped just in front of her. His words were true, but then again… they were wrong as well.
She stood up and dusted herself off. The once clean sea-blue dress she had was dirty - how could it be clean after a few months living with nothing but the thing to use as clothing – but it was enough to let her stay warm. She then walked past him, and after a few steps, turned around and gave him a smile. A genuine one, one she didn’t know she could ever make again. “Where are we going?” She accosted herself for hesitating. The man had helped her, had stopped her from getting kidnapped and… the man was nice. How could she think otherwise? She had forgotten about herself, had forgotten the tenets she had.
The man turned around and gave him a half-smile half-worried look. He walked towards her before he answered. “A bar.”
Serendipity
XxX
She allowed herself to get comfortable in the booth. Pushing herself to the corner as she took a look around.
There was only a few people around them. A few on the bar stools, drinking away, looking morose. While some were in booths with friends, drinking and exchanging stories. The bar itself wasn’t anything fancy, it was small, and the corner booth they were in gave them enough privacy. The overhead lights were a little warm, but it was a good sense of warmth. The bar itself seemed to give out a good vibes kind of thing. Not that it stopped the more morose customers sitting on bar stools from downing another set of drinks.
A waitress walked up to their table, before she set down the drink in front of them. “Alright, I’m doing ya a favor.” She heard the waitress begin speaking as she put down an entire bottle of whiskey with a shot glass in front of her. “We don’t normally serve minors here. But for you, I’ll allow it.” She looked up at the waitress, just in time to see her wink at the man across from him. She heard the man sigh, before he waved a hand at her.
“Yeah, yeah,” The man said, sounding exasperated. He then reached for something behind him and pulled out a wallet. “Here,” The man pulled out a hundred dollar bill from the US, and slid it over towards the waitress. “Keep the change.”
The waitress whistled as she stared at the piece of money. She found herself staring at it too; it wasn’t everyday you saw someone pay in dollars, and a hundred dollars to boot. “Damn,” The waitress took a good look at the bill, before she pocketed it hastily. “Consider yourselves bottomless then.” The waitress smirked before she walked away from the table.
She didn’t bother looking at the retreating form, and instead, stared at the man in front of her. “Is it really okay for you to use that much money? Did you know her?” She asked, surprised at seeing someone wave around money so casually.
The man shook his head. “Not really no.” He answered her second question. “I just had an excess of money after my last business venture.”
“Oh.” She was mollified a little. She was opposed to being extravagant, her way of living didn’t like anything too flashy. But she couldn’t rightly complain since the money wasn’t hers.
“Well?” She snapped out of her thoughts as she saw the man give her a slight smile. He then pointed down at her, towards the whiskey and the shot glass. “There’s your drink.”
“O-oh.” She looked down again, and tentatively reached for the whiskey bottle. But before she could grasp it, the man asked a question that stopped her dead in her tracks.
“What happened?” He asked. His voice oozing with concern and worry. She looked up, and saw that the man’s eyes were no different. They were staring at her, boring into her own. She flinched away from them. She… she didn’t deserve that kind of concern.
For a minute, neither of them spoke. And as the seconds ticked by, she was worried that the man would leave. It was almost funny; she wanted him to leave, to not be concerned with a failure as a nun such as her, but at the same time. She wanted him to stay, the concern in his eyes was refreshing, and she hadn’t seen those kinds of eyes in a long while.
“You’re obviously going through something.” She looked up at the man as he broke the silence. She was surprised to see him still staring at her. “And whatever it is, it’s hurting your judgment. I can’t rightly let you stay like this if a guy that’s posing as a drunkard at two in the afternoon can cajole you into drinking something.”
She bit her lower lip, and the next few words came out almost automatically. “I’m always like this.” She spoke. “My judgment is fine. It’s just... bad.” That was the truth. It was her judgment that got her into this situation in the first place.
The man snorted. “There is no good or bad judgment.” She looked up at him, surprised at his words. “Trust me on that one. The most evil looking person can sometimes have the biggest heart. Or vice versa.” The way he was speaking… it almost sounded like he knew what he was talking about.
“But…” She paused, unsure if she should speak. She then resolved herself, before she swallowed a lump in her throat and pressed on. “But what about if you were wrong? If you thought you were doing the right thing, but you weren’t and did something really bad?” She looked up at the man, wanting him to answer.
The man sighed. “Didn’t you hear me? There is no good or bad judgment. All that is subjective. You could be helping a good guy to you, but a bad guy for others.” He explained.
She looked away; he had hit the nail right on the head with that one. The man seemed to pick up on her actions, and he spoke up again. “That’s what you did?”
She bit her lower lip as her eyes darted towards the whiskey bottle. It was looking more and more tempting to just drink it. “Yes…” She answered tentatively.
“Alright…” The man spoke up. “What happened?” He tried again.
For a second, she didn’t answer. But then she found her lips moving on their own. “The Church excommunicated me.” She admitted, sinking into herself as she did so.
“I was right then, you are a nun.” He spoke up. She looked at him with a confused look, before the man coughed and shook his head. “Never mind, sorry.” He apologized.
She smiled at him, before she shook her head. “No, you’re right. I was a nun-in-training.” She knew the tenets, but she wasn’t formally a nun, not yet at least.
“Well, why would the church excommunicate you?” The man asked her, tilting his head as he stared at her in confusion.
She wondered if she should tell him. About devils and angels. They were hidden from the masses for a reason. They were beings that could level countries and continents if they fought. So if the world was exposed to them, who knew what kind of panic, they would bring to the world.
But then she remembered how forthcoming the man in front of her was. So she decided to just bite the bullet. “I healed a devil.”
Surprisingly, the man didn’t react. He just stared at her with a concerned face. “And that was enough to excommunicate you?”
She nodded her head. “It was yes. Devils were always our enemies, and I had healed one. That’s… bad.” But it wasn’t. It didn’t feel bad. The person was dying, what else could she have done? Why were they punishing her for healing someone that was about to die?! It wasn’t-
“Relax.” She broke out of her thoughts as a hand clasped her shoulder. She looked up, and saw the man giving her a placating look. She took a deep breath, before she calmed down.
“Sorry.” She apologized. The man only waved a hand in front of him.
“Don’t worry; it’s okay to get mad.” The man reassured her, and she found herself smiling.
“I shouldn’t though.” She said. Her statement seemed to surprise the man as he looked at her with surprised eyes. “They were right.”
“They were?” He repeated her words, and she nodded her head. Locking eyes with the man.
“I shouldn’t have healed him. He was a devil. They were right in excommunicating me. I’m not fit to be a nun if I can’t tell a devil from a person.” Her words stung herself. But she soldiered on, she was right, the church was right. She shouldn’t be a nun, she shouldn’t even get close to the church, and she didn’t deserve His love. God only helped those in the light, and she moved towards the darkness.
“You’re… not mad at those who betrayed you?” She blinked at the wording the man used. Before she nodded her head. Though she noted that it felt forced.
“How could I if I agree with them?” She asked, her voice a whisper. The man heard her, but didn’t answer. Only staring at her with an unreadable look in his eyes.
She then looked at the bottle of whiskey in front of her. She didn’t hesitate anymore. She took the bottle and twisted the cap off with a pop. She was surprised at her move, but didn’t comment on it as she poured a shot worth of it into the glass right in front of her.
She put the bottle down. She then turned towards the shot glass and stared at it. The yellowish liquid inside it was still, but it was there and it smelled horrible. She reached for it nonetheless.
“There was once a man,” She stopped herself as the man in front of her spoke up. Her fingers almost curled around the shot glass. “Who believed in his ideals. Who believed he was right.”
She dropped her hand to the side of the glass as she stared at the man in front of her, who had closed his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. “He followed his ideals, always believing them to be right. Even if those ideals were killing him and pushing his friends and family away from him.” The man paused as he hummed. “In the end, he followed his ideals to the end. And he didn’t regret it. Until one day he was faced with the reality of his ideals. The weight of it and what it meant following it.” The man paused again as he reopened his eyes and stared at her. “He felt betrayed, his ideals, the one thing he thought would never betray him, had in the end, and left him to rot in despair.”
She frowned at the story. It was just like hers… Only… she didn’t like it. Not one bit. “Was that man you?” She asked, honestly hoping that it wasn’t.
The man blinked before he shook his head. “No.” He denied vehemently. “This is just a story. One that isn’t done yet.” It wasn’t done? Then what else was there?
“The man met a boy then.” She cut her thoughts off as the man continued. “A boy that had the same ideals and dreams as the man that was betrayed by them.” A bitter smile appeared on the man’s face. “He hated the boy. So he tried to show him what would happen if the boy continued on his path, towards the ideals that would betray him.” The man looked at her, but not at her. It was like she wasn’t there, and he was looking straight through her. “The boy was shown what would happen if he continued on his path. He was shown where his ideals and where his dreams would take him. Betrayal, anger, self-loathing. Everything was laid down for the boy in front of his eyes.” The man closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he reopened them, it was with a sardonic smile. “He spit in the face of the man and told him that he was correct, but wasn’t in the right.”
She was caught by surprise at that ending. And she couldn’t help but stifle a giggle. “What did the man say?” She asked.
The man in front of her shrugged. “Nothing at first, he only tried to convince the boy of the struggles and the end that would await him. The boy wasn’t bothered. He continued to march on, telling the man he was right. That believing in his ideals wasn’t wrong.” The man then smiled at her. “In the end, the man gave up. But not without having seen the boy’s pigheadedness and inability to accept the truth.”
Her own smile disappeared. “How does this relate to me?” She finally asked. The first part of the story was relatable to her, that was what she was feeling right now. But the second part… not so much. She was right, the church was right, she shouldn’t be a nun.
“It just means you haven’t found your boy yet.” She blinked, surprised at the wording.
“Sorry?” She asked, confused as to what the man was referring to. The man just dismissed her with a wave of his hands.
“You haven’t found someone that will tell you you’re right. So you just have to keep looking for them.” The man explained, before he shrugged at her. “Don’t just give up and accept what everyone thinks is right. Being right or wrong is subjective. Just find the people that will tell you you’re right, and there’s nothing wrong with it.” The man told her with a straight face.
“But… I healed a devil.” She told him as her eyes drifted downwards. She was in the wrong, and there was nothing else about it.
“And you saved someone’s life.” She looked up at the man in surprise. “To the church, it may have looked like you helped their enemy. But to the devil, you saved a life. Both are right, but it’s up to you to decide which you’ll believe in.” The man shrugged again. “The boy believed in himself, believed in his ideals as being right. The man too, he believed he was right, but was betrayed. It didn’t take until a boy spitting at his face did he realize there was nothing wrong with what he did. And that he should be proud.”
“There’s nothing wrong with helping people.” The man continued, even as she heard the man standing up and making his way out of the booth. “You just have to believe that you’re right.”
She heard him begin walking away, before a question struck her. She stood up hastily and exited the booth before she turned around. “Wait!” She shouted. The man stopped just as he was about to exit the bar and turned his head slightly towards her. “What’s your name?” She asked.
The man turned around, closing the door behind him, before giving her a smile. “Shirou.” Was all he said before he turned around and exited.
She stared at the door, where Shirou had left. She then turned towards the booth, where a glass filled with whiskey was on the table.
She closed her eyes, thinking over what she should do. When she reopened them, she knew the answer.
She left the bar then, not giving another look at the shot glass filled with whiskey. Shirou was right, she was right, the church was right. They were all right.
The church was right in excommunicating her, she didn’t deserve to be a nun. She was trained to follow the light and she had strayed. So she wouldn’t blame them.
She was right, right to be angry with the church. To be exasperated with them. But she was also right in telling herself it wasn’t their fault. They were following rules. So she let that anger go.
Shirou was right. She hadn’t found her boy yet. So she should keep searching. Until she found someone that will help her, that will tell her that she was right and everyone else was wrong. She would accept what was happening around her. She would accept that she had healed a devil, that she was excommunicated, that she was still looking for someone to tell her she was right.
A few months after she met with Shirou, she found a boy. That boy was a devil, and that boy would be her whole world.
XxX
Yeah, that's it. Tell me what you guys think? Haven't really gotten to editing it yet, and it was a literal spur of the moment thing. I finished this story in what, three hours of writing? That's a hella lot for five thousand words.
Anyway, yeah, what do you guys think? It's kind of inspired by that other DxD fic that I didn't like. But in my own version of how Shirou would have handled a drunk Asia.
Reply With Quote
Originally Posted by Cyronyx
