Chapter Ten: She Should Have Been Home

Asia

After letting out that hoarse whisper, Johan just stood there for a long moment, a hand outstretched toward where Valerie's head would be resting on a cushion I'd packed with her. In that same choked voice, he asked, almost plaintively, "How?"

I shrugged, chuckling a bit nervously. "Uh...with extreme prejudice?"

My friend looked at me, consternation warring with gratitude on his face. "I think I need a little bit more than that!" he replied, voice cracking midway through and becoming almost a shriek.

Rias cleared her throat, reminding me that we were standing in a room with the rest of the ORC members, and Mariko and Tosca besides. "I would also like to know what's going on, Asia-kun. And for Hell's sake, take that bag off her, Gasper."

Johan blinked very rapidly, then did as he was told, yanking the zipper up in one swift, albeit shaky, motion...

...And he was promptly bombarded with several high-pressure cushions erupting from where they had been kept constrained. As shaken as he was, it was a wonder he had the presence of mind to keep himself on his feet with his shadow.

I winced, and Xenovia turned to look at me. "I did say you overdid it."

A particularly plush pillow slid slowly down his face and hit the floor with a decisive plop, revealing a decidedly unamused expression that didn't really mesh with the giggling Mariko wasn't trying very hard to stifle.

Gasper then turned to Valerie, his face decorated with a complicated expression that was a combination of a sorrowful frown, a welcoming smile, and an angry snarl. It was clear to anyone with eyes what the cause of his emotional turmoil was.

Without the hefty padding to fill it up, the duffel seemed to have far more space available than anything containing a living person should. Unfortunately, that was because even when she was practically swaddled in a waterproof jacket, jumper, hoodie and blouse, as well as cargo trousers and waterproof leggings, the former tucked into socks that led in turn to serviceable boots, Valerie Tepes was still far too thin for comfort.

With the movement of the bag being taken off her head where it had draped itself in the deflation, a gentle action on Gasper's part that belied the shaking of his hands, the raised hoods pulled away from her face. The features revealed there were like porcelain in their colouration and delicacy, lending a near-glow to the golden hair and bloody red eyes that framed them and were framed by them respectively.

But beyond the striking looks, even a human eye could trace the structure of her skull and see the discolouration below her eyes. The way the clothes hung loosely, despite their layering, spoke of the figure beneath them.

I felt my fingers twitch in a pointless motion as I reached for Twilight Healing by reflex…

But this wasn't something I could cure. Not even with the food, blood and water we'd been sure to provide for her during our little trek.

After a few moments of just staring at one another, the two Dhampir practically tackled one another, clinging to each other as though they sought to become a single gestalt being through willpower alone.

I felt the corner of my mouth twitch upward. 'Yeah. That's more what I was expecting.'

After a minute or two, they separated just enough so that Gasper could turn to face me once more.

Wordlessly, he motioned for me to continue, one arm still snug around Valerie's too-bony shoulders, one of his own shoulders fulfilling its newfound occupation as her pillow.

I chewed my lip, turning to Xenovia. She just gave me a frank look and waved me on. '"You don't hold all the blame" my ass!'

"So…" I began into the very attentive silence in the room. "Uh...well, I'd just like to preface this by saying that I was minding my own business." 'Yep. Just...minding my own business, running through Romania. Definitely. Filling my blood with life energy was just...training. Yeah, training. Even if it did make great vampire bait.'

Johan fixed me with a gimlet eye even as Valerie shot me a skeptical glance. "Now, why don't I believe that in the slightest?"

"...Poor judgement?" I tried.

Johan palmed his face, letting out a shaky sigh, prompting a cuddle from Valerie. He then looked to Xenovia, one eyebrow arched.

"Because she's a terrible liar," Xenovia said simply, and he snorted.

I swallowed the urges to run for the window, take off through the roof, cover Xenovia's mouth with my hand and go die in a corner somewhere—some of them simultaneously—but I still wilted as Mariko looked at me disappointedly.

"...Look," I began, trying another tactic, "it's not my fault that the Tepes faction picked a fight with me!" 'Even if I did send them a letter with the only remaining member of one of their groups saying I was going to drink their ashes with a glass of chilled sancerre.'

"Perhaps not," Johan allowed, "but then again, are you really the type to let the enemy make the first move? To not be as provocative as possible to try and lead them into a trap or mistake?"

"She's not," Xenovia replied for me, and I barely restrained the urge to stomp my foot as I turned and glared at her (definitely glared. Not a pout. I'm too badass to pout).

"No matter how it started," I continued, folding my arms, "and I maintain it was totally not my fault, there were...a few altercations while Xenovia and I were in Romania. Things escalated somewhat," 'I hope those castles and mansions weren't protected sites…' "and in the end I happened across someone who needed a lift." 'After destroying most of the castle around her, anyway.' "That's really all there is to it."

"'Escalated somewhat', you say. Coming from you…" Johan grimaced. "How much of Romania is left standing?"

"Gasper-san, I am shocked and appalled—"

"Most of it," Xenovia cut me off. "It's missing a few castles, mansions, cave systems, villages and shacks, but it's nothing that anyone outside the Moonlit World will notice not being there."

"Am I answering for this or are you?!" I demanded, rounding on my friend once more.

The corners of Xenovia's lips twitched up. "Well, if you're offering, Asia…"

Johan cleared his throat, a slight smile now on his face. "Actually, I think that's about all I needed to know, except…" His face darkened. "What about him?" he spat, his shadow writhing slightly in agitation.

Xenovia's face resumed its usual solemnity, and I looked over my shoulder at my friend from across realities as a small, twisted grin of my own pulled at the corners of my mouth. "Cut off his bloody head," I replied in English, my accent leaking through.

Johan opened his mouth, probably to ask the follow-up, but Xenovia had raised a hand and started ticking off fingers. "And shoved a tree through his chest cavity, exsanguinated him, pulled out his fangs and powdered them, cut off all his extremities, impaled him on his throne, set the whole thing on fire, doused the fire with holy water, and dropped the castle on what remained."

Johan raised an eyebrow. "That's only nine steps," he observed in the same language.

"Step ten was 'buried in an unmarked grave'," I told him. "But there really wasn't enough to scrape together for that, so we just buried the castle." I grinned wider. "The whole castle."

Johan let out a low whistle. "I knew you didn't do things by half, but sheesh." His face sobered. "He must've been up to some real shit to get you that mad, huh?" he asked quietly.

My eyes flickered to Valerie. "...Let's just say," I replied just as quietly, "that one day, she will heal. And on that day, I am going to ask her to drag him out of hell, and I'm going to kill him again."

Johan's eyes were completely covered by his shades. That didn't stop me from feeling how they became hard as steel. "No. We are going to kill him again." There was tension in the air, but none of it was aimed at one another. The heaviness and wrath was directed outwards, a united front against those who would dare hurt our own.

After a moment, Johan relaxed fractionally, then turned to face Valerie, pulling her close to him once more. In a hoarse whisper that I could barely hear, he spoke. I didn't understand the words either of them said, as Valerie's face softened, then became stern as she replied in the same language with an admonishing tone.

A tiny, familiar flicker of movement caught the corner of my eye, and my perception slid that way. The slightest of raised eyebrows, coupled with the specific movement of her fingers, told me that Irina certainly hadn't let herself slip in the last couple of days.

I gave the slightest shake of my head in response.

This time, there was no need for Irina to play translator. Whatever they said was between them and them alone.

Gasper

After the meeting, I'd asked for some time alone with Valerie (though when Mariko had pouted at me I had quickly amended my request). The others were kind enough to acquiesce, and had filed out of the main club room to the sound of low chattering.

So, there we were. Alone but for my daughter, with me curled up on the extravagant chair that we had acquired so recently, Mariko in my lap and Valerie leaning into my side.

I was still in shock, at least somewhat. I suppose I shouldn't have been surprised; this was exactly the sort of thing Donne would do, the big-hearted softie. But still, it was almost like a dream.

He'd managed to do what I could not, and had rescued Valerie from those bastards. At just the thought of it I pulled her closer, shaking slightly with unshed tears of guilt.

Earlier, I'd spoken to her in Romanian, a language that hadn't left my lips for a very long while. I begged her to forgive me for being weak, for leaving her behind with that piece of filth that dared to treat the daughter he'd given life to like a tool.

Her response?

"Gasper… never call yourself weak in front of me," she said, her voice softer than it seemed it should be. "I might have been older, but you were the one I looked up to all that time. I would sit in that castle forever if it meant you could be free to live like you deserve. But…" She pulled back a bit, holding my gaze with crimson eyes like I hadn't seen in so many years. "...I thought you died, Gasper," she whispered, her forehead resting on mine. "...Please… I can stand to be alone if I know you're safe, but… please don't leave me alone in this world entirely…"

Even now, my heart felt like it was in pieces. The fear of loneliness in her eyes was palpable, and it nearly drove me to tears.

…

No, scratch that. I was crying now, my tears dripping into her hair and making a mess. Valerie soon followed suit, staining my shirt with her own tears.

I felt a small hand tug on my sleeve as we both convulsed with quiet sobs. I looked up to see my daughter looking between us, undisguised concern all over her face. I wiped my eyes with the back of my sleeve, and gave Mariko a watery smile.

"I guess I look pretty lame, huh Mari-chan?" I asked, trying and failing to keep my voice from cracking.

Mariko frowned, then reached up and tweaked my nose. I'll say one thing about my daughter: her grip is strong.

"You're not lame, Gasper-nii. But you are sad. And when you're sad, I'm sad." She looked up at me with eyes far too heavy and serious anyone her age should ever have. "Can I help?"

I let out a wet, surprised chuckle. "You really are something else, Mari-chan. Sometimes I think you're more mature than me."

Mariko let out a huff, feigning offense. "Only sometimes?"

I could feel it as Valerie laughed into my shoulder. "She knows you pretty well, Gasper."

I pouted, unashamed. "Surrounded by comedians, aren't I? Well then," I shifted my arms slightly, "if you both like laughing at me so much, then how about this?!"

Like a striking snake, my fingers shot forth, tickling the soft spots on either side of my two victims.

Mariko shrieked with laughter and made several half-hearted attempts to throw my arm off. Valerie, on the other hand, made full use of the cushioning her extra layers provided to reach down my back to my ribs and respond in kind.

Within the next few moments, the three of us had toppled out of the chair and my assault had been repelled by a combined front. However, the alliance between House Tepes and the Yukimura Zaibatsu quickly collapsed as they turned their ten-pointed arsenals on one another. This allowed the Duke of Chunheim to rally his forces and launch a surprise attack, this time with the aid of his longtime ally, the Dread Raven Dragon Edmund.

From there, the war dissolved into chaos, and after a few minutes all three of us were sprawled on the ground, chests heaving and tears in our eyes once more. This time, though, they were tears of happiness and laughter.

Edmund perched on my chest, cocking the head of his raven form quizzically to one side. After a moment of scrutinizing me with ice-blue human eyes that really didn't belong in the skull of a bird (the shapeshifting little troll), he let out a sigh. As was his wont, his voice was completely different from every one he'd ever spoken to me with before. This time, it was deep and masculine, reminding me bizarrely of Samuel L. Jackson.

"You're a weird one, contractor." Edmund let out a sound that was a cross between a chuckle and a wark. "But you're never boring, and I'm happy with that. Wake me up when you need me."

I gave a nod, and the Raven Mocker sank back into my shadow. I wiped the tears out of my eyes, a few chuckles still escaping even though the War of Questing Fingers had concluded.

"Ohhhh man," I let out, flopping back down on the floor. "I haven't laughed that hard in years." Gathering Mariko to my right side with one arm, I turned left towards Valerie, and pressed my forehead against hers. She smelled of fabric cleaner, new clothes and some kind of herbal shampoo, but there was an underlying base to all of it that evoked memories going back years. "God, how I've missed you."

Even as I scrunched my face against the backlash from Heaven's system, I sighed contentedly.

The sound was mirrored almost exactly by Valerie. "I missed you too...my precious Gasper…"

As my face reddened in spite of itself, her breathing evened out, and she fell asleep.

So it was that when Akeno entered the room, I was twisting my body in all manner of uncomfortable and even eldritch angles as I tried to get free of her grasp, humming the Mission Impossible theme under my breath all the while.

I stared her right in the eye, and resigned myself to my fate as her normal demure smile widened like a cat that had discovered a lake full of cream in which thousands of canaries were currently bathing.

"Oh my, Gasper-chan~! Has Issei-kun's talk of the 'childhood friend' route sparked a fire in you?"

I palmed my face, then let out a sigh. "Well, I guess I had that one coming." As soon as the phrase was out of my mouth, I winced. Hopefully Akeno either hadn't noticed or wouldn't grab such low-hanging frui—oh who was I kidding. This was Akeno.

As my friend's smile widened even further, I beseeched the heavens, crying out a mournful plea as to what I had done to deserve such a thing.

Then I remembered I was a Devil, and despaired.

-x-x-x-

After Akeno had her fill of bullying her poor defenseless junior, she actually told me what she'd come to inform me of. Apparently, Rias wanted to do some more training; our narrow victory (if it could even be called such) against Kokabiel had seemingly lit a fire under her.

Of course, I was now faced with a trial worthy of the Twelve Labors: getting free of Valerie's grasp without waking her.

…

Okay, maybe I was being a bit dramatic. So I wanted to treat Valerie like she was the most precious thing in the world, sue me. She needed some kindness and care, especially after he—

I snapped my jaw shut, cutting off the train of thought before I could get any more absolutely livid. Oh, I was gonna need to train extra hard today to work off this mood.

I shook my head, then resumed my task. If it had been anyone else, I'd have just sunk into the shadows and that'd be that. But Valerie was a Dhampir just like me, so it was entirely possible that she'd accidentally come with me if I did that and becoming a shadow while unconscious (or while not some kind of vampire) was dangerous.

So instead, after a lot of trial and error, I managed to lift her off of me with a carefully constructed weave of shadows and a pulley system. I briefly debated tucking her into a proper bed in one of the old school building's numerous empty rooms, but then my mind snapped back to her earlier words, and more importantly, the words I knew she left unspoken so as to not burden me.

"...I can stand to be alone if I know you're safe."

'Please stay by my side.'

Between that and the troubled frown that had quickly replaced her small, content smile once I'd gotten free, my choice couldn't have been clearer.

Shaking my head, I gently lifted her onto my back, using ephemeral strands of shadow to secure her even as she snuggled into me unconsciously.

Wonder of wonders, Akeno refrained from commenting beyond a light chuckle and saying, "You two are precious."

We then departed, Mariko clutching my hand as we walked out to the training yard.

Well, in all technicality it was actually just the school's sports field, but after hours it served our purposes just fine. Of course, the 'true' sports field was currently playing host to a supernaturally-borne ecosystem that would make it a little tricky to practice like we usually did, but the 'real illusion' we were currently occupying could work too.

A football-field sized area of flat dirt with running tracks painted around the edge in red and white, the main school building to our East and the city to our North while the forest next to the Academy was up an incline to our West and South, gave us enough room to play around without causing so much damage that we couldn't hide it by the next day.

The sounds of magic and combat reached my ears before we even broke the treeline, followed by the smells of sweat, ozone and disturbed earth. Emerging into view of the field, I could see the usual suspects (including Tosca; she was so nice that she fit into our group near instantly) scattered around, while Donne and Xenovia were also present.

As I approached, I was fixed with various looks. Issei, predictably, misunderstood the situation entirely and gave me what was probably supposed to be a manly grin and thumbs up. It was rather ruined by the fact that Irina had him on the ground in a rather unique form of arm-bar, as Donne and Xenovia looked on in no small amount of amusement.

Speaking of the terrible trio…

Donne gave me a cheerful wave with her free hand. The other was occupied with the blade of one of Kiba's swords, held over her head, with the Knight in question dangling from the hilt...though admittedly not by much, considering the heights of those involved.

Kiba looked over at me from where he hung in the air, his expression of focused consternation melting into a look of surprise, then amusement. He knew damn well it wasn't what it looked like, and he also knew that I'd been teased relentlessly for it, the cheeky bastard.

Irina paused in the motion of pinning Issei's arms at their full extension (or maybe even a bit beyond it) using her hands and feet, lying on her front across his shoulders as she did so in a move that something told me had just as much ulterior motive around it as practicality. I felt like I saw a distinct fire in her eyes as they landed on me. I might have considered it my imagination, if not for the fact that Issei's increasingly-garbled pleas for mercy redoubled and Irina coincidentally pressed herself even more against Issei's back.

Meanwhile, Xenovia had Durandal buried up to its guard in a boulder someone must have scrounged up, the blade apparently having sunk into it point-first like butter, while the rubble scattered beside her told of a far more violent insertion. As I approached, the dust tickled my nostrils and I scrunched up my nose.

Koneko seemed very interested… at least until Xenovia glanced back toward me, drawing the younger girl's amber gaze in my direction as well.

The older of my two surrogate daughter-sisters (Nine Hells, maybe I really did need help) scrutinized my face at length, then seemed to reach a conclusion and nodded decisively. I'd have thought she'd decided to ignore the event entirely were it not for the glimmer of mischief in her eyes.

The final two members of our bizarre, not-so-little group were presently standing across from one another, engaged in what at first appeared to be staring match over a rapidly expanding field of dark crimson orbs.

However, as in-tune with magic as I was, I could tell what Rias and Tosca were doing. My King was steadily firing more and more orbs of Destruction, and Tosca was pushing her magic to its very limits catching each and every one of them in a golden zone of stasis the instant they popped into existence.

However, it was obvious to see that Tosca's stamina was flagging. It was honestly impressive that she was able to do this much after such a small amount of time training, especially against a magic as volatile as Destruction.

"O-okay, Rias," Tosca said in Italian, "I'm at my limit." She quickly stumbled out of the way of the orbs and let her stasis fields fade, all of Rias' attacks abruptly regaining their momentum and slamming into a far-off boulder, annihilating it with extreme prejudice.

Even as Tosca swayed drunkenly on her feet, Kiba appeared beside her in a blur, placing a steadying hand on her arm and leaving Donne holding a wielderless sword that rapidly faded into particles of magic.

Rias exhaled, then turned to me with a small smile that quickly turned concerned. "Is she alright?" my King asked sharply.

"...As well as she can be, given the circumstances," I replied soberly, then gave a shaky smile. "She's all tuckered out from having a tickle war with Mari-chan and I."

A distant expression crossed Rias' face for a moment. "I remember when we used to have those; you'd always have to drag Kiba along 'because it wasn't proper behavior for a Knight'." Rias said this last in a high-pitched, snooty voice, drawing a laugh from both Tosca and I. Meanwhile, Kiba covered his face with one hand, failing spectacularly to conceal the reddening of his cheeks.

Trying and failing to contain my grin, I walked over towards the nearby bleachers and lowered Valerie gently onto it.

Quickly dipping into the Shadow Realm (I'm not apologizing) and then out of Donne's shadow, I cleared my throat.

"You got any of them, uuuuhhh, boneless pillows left?"

Donne gave me a slightly disappointed look, then pulled her coat to the side to reveal several rows of zip-topped pockets. I just about saw Xenovia abruptly side-stepping to make sure she was directly behind Donne before the blonde unzipped a specific pocket and held the coat well away from her body.

And that's when I learned that she apparently put every pillow she'd stuffed in the duffle right back into that pocket, which I discovered by means of ballistic cushioning.

My voice muffled by the veritable mountain of upholstery, I still managed to complain, "Doesn't feel boneless to me. Deadass."

"You fell for it twice," Donne said lightly. "Dumbass."

I gasped in mock offense, then stood up, my hands on my hips and an expression of false outrage on my face. This was rather ruined by the cushion balanced precariously on my head.

As much as I'd have liked to engage in plush warfare then and there, I refrained. I grabbed the pillow off of my head, gathered a couple more off of the ground, and stalked back towards Valerie with an over-exaggerated huff. I carefully rearranged the sleeping bea—my dear friend so that she'd be more comfortable.

After that was done, I enlisted Mariko to sit with her, both so Valerie wouldn't wake up alone and so my daughter would have something to occupy herself while I trained with my family.

"Oi! Xenovia!" I called in Italian, walking away from Valerie and Mariko. "Can I trouble you for a spar? I'd like to practice against a Holy Sword, and what better choice than Durandal?"

I ignored Rias's sputters of consternation and concern as I waited for a reply.

Xenovia raised an eyebrow at me, considering. Then she looked over at Donne, who nodded, before looking back to me. "Very well then."

I nodded my thanks, and took a basic unarmed stance a few meters away from her, my shadow already coiling up out of itself and writhing ominously. The other members of our little group cleared a large space around us.

Once she took a stance of her own and we exchanged bows, I slashed my hand through the air, volley after volley of arrows forged from blackest night racing towards her. I'd been sure to blunt the tips, of course. Simultaneously, I sent a paper-thin tendril of shadow snaking through the grass at ground-level.

Before they'd crossed even half the distance between us, Xenovia was already amongst them.

Durandal was a solid wall of blue metal and trailing gold in the air before her, the grass and dirt that had erupted from the force of her lunge still falling as the luminescence of Roland's blade ripped through my shadows. She might not have been Kiba fast, but she was incredibly quick for someone working without the boosts of a Knight piece.

I'd just have to follow suit, then. I flooded my muscles with magic and the intent of speed, the ground letting off a puff of dirt as I pushed off and darted around her swing with bare millimeters to spare.

Okay, so ranged attacks were pretty much a bust unless they were undetectable or on par with Kokabiel's. While I had been studying the theory of the former, I didn't have anything feasible ready at the moment. As for the latter, that was a no-go for several reasons.

I ground my teeth as I barely managed to duck another swing, then had to leap skyward to avoid her backswing. As much as I prided myself on being a Bishop capable of melee combat, I was still far behind people like Xenovia or Kiba. People who focused on it almost solely, rather than diversifying like me. "A Jack of all trades is a master of none" and all that.

Of course, Xenovia clearly knew this as much as I did, and pressed the attack from the very start, forcing me to rely on my less-practiced skills.

If I hadn't been so busy not getting decapitated, I'd have grinned. This was exactly why I'd asked Xenovia. I needed this kind of harsh push; I relished it.

Wreathing my left hand in shadow that formed the shape of a claw and forging a short cudgel of it in my right, I pushed even more speed into my muscles and blurred forward, claw coming up from the bottom and club coming around from the side.

Durandal plunged down into the earth from above, passing through my claw on the way down; the cudgel, however, met Xenovia's foot as she kicked out to the side.

I let my weapon warp and shift as her foot came into contact with it, going from sturdy and rigid to flexible and alive. I wrapped the shadow around her ankle, connected it to my shadow with a thought, and with all the force of my magic, I yanked skyward, attempting to knock her off her feet, or at least off her balance.

Even as I did that I was moving backwards and upwards, wings flapping as I prepared a mandala between bloody, clasped hands. While I'd moved back, I'd used a small tendril of shadow to prick my palms so I'd have some blood for this next spell.

The yank on Xenovia's ankle worked—in fact, it worked too well. She moved with it, turning what should have been an unbalancing strike into a perfectly natural backflip as Durandal passed almost negligently through the shadow in mid-air. She landed in a crouch for barely a moment before the earth beneath her feet gave way once more, Durandal held low and to her side as she tore across the distance between us.

As that inexorable juggernaut of a woman charged me, I poured more magic into the spell I was preparing. Not for power, but for speed. Durandal was already arcing towards my neck as the mandala completed and I hurriedly raised it before me, a tendril of shadow snapping out of my collar to tear my shades off, revealing eyes wide with intensity.

"Darker Than Black!" I snapped, and the mandala bloomed. Countless strands of bleeding darkness, frozen in time by my eyes, cocooned my opponent. The iron-tinged scent of my blood filled the air around us.

I'd refrained from using my Sacred Gear directly on Xenovia, because though that was in theory the most effective way to end a fight, it wouldn't help me grow any.

That said, I was half-certain that Durandal was simply bullshit enough to counter my temporal stasis, so I let two sabres of blood snap out of my veins and edged them with hyper-thin shadow. I couldn't do mono-molecular yet, but I was getting close. I kept one at my side and the other between us as I approached Xenovia, just knowing she'd pull some fuckery to get out of this.

There was a single moment where Xenovia was held still, visibly straining against the time-frozen bindings with her eyes darting around, before there was a flash in her eye that reminded me distinctly of Donne. With a twitch of her fingers that should not have been capable of imparting the force it did, she threw Durandal at her own face and caught the hilt in her teeth. The brightness of the sword seared lines across my vision as the might of a legendary weapon tested my shadows' bindings and found them lacking, freeing Xenovia from the tendrils that had been on her.

The tendrils that had surrounded her didn't last much longer, the shadows themselves burned away by Durandal's light in complete contravention of their temporal stasis.

'I fucking knew it,' I thought ruefully, raising my blades in a stance that Kiba had drilled into me over several years of sparring. I was still a far cry from him, of course; he was a prodigy and personally trained by Okita Souji besides. That said, I was determined to put up as good a fight as I could.

I darted forward, magic pumping speed into me as I brought my Sanguine Spectral Sabers around in a whirl...

Asia

"...from someone who knows, the whole 'break yourself down and build yourself up again' thing only works if you choose a means of breaking that won't lay you out in an instant."

I finally took a breath, closing my eyes for a moment and counting backwards from ten as I took my green-glowing hands off Johan. "Seriously, try something a bit easier first...like challenging the reigning fencing or kendo champion of the world, maybe. Strada and I specifically trained her to be able to defeat magic users; she's a terrible first step."

Johan let out a groan. "Noted," he replied in Italian, then turned to Xenovia. "That said, good spar, Xenovia. I look forward to a time when I can actually hold my own against you, in melee or otherwise."

Xenovia snorted. "Not even you will live that long, Dhampir," she replied with a smirk, Durandal resting its spine on her shoulder.

I reached up with irritating difficulty and slapped her upside the back of her head. "Play nice, Xenovia."

She turned, giving me a frank look. "Sitting him on a fire won't do him any good, Asia."

The slap of my palm meeting my face was probably audible for a good quarter mile. "It's 'blowing smoke up his ass', Xenovia."

She frowned. "Well that just doesn't make any sense at all."

I threw up my hands, shaking my head as I turned back to Johan. "Seriously though, you need to take things a bit slower. I've been watching Xenovia for long enough to know that you're better than most, but the blade hasn't been your main area of study, and it probably never will be. Trying to match up to swordsmen like Xenovia or Kiba is a poor decision and even poorer training."

Johan winced. "I hear you. I've always known that I was sacrificing specialization for versatility, but this just drives home the point further." He sat up, rubbing the back of his neck. "All I can do is keep getting back up and working at it, eh?"

Xenovia and I gave approving nods at more or less precisely the same time. ""Exactly. Determination is the key to success.""

Johan snorted. "You two are perfect for one another, I swear."

I felt myself go red around the ears, even as Xenovia's arm snaked out to wrap around my shoulders and pulled me into her side. A quick glance up at her face only served to confirm the existence of the smug grin I'd known would be there.

"Well, determination is certainly part of it, but willpower without knowledge isn't much use to anyone."

"That's a good poin…" Johan trailed off, his eyes widening as he realised that the speaker wasn't one of us.

Xenovia and I, a little more on the ball or maybe just more paranoid, had sprung apart in a twisting motion that had us facing the other way by the time the first few words were spoken.

Watching from the treeline above us like he'd been there forever stood a tall man in an open dark-gray suit jacket and slacks and a light blue button-up shirt with the top left open visible beneath. The outfit itself seemed more or less normal, if a bit expensive, but the goatee, violet eyes and distinctive golden fringe fading into black hair were anything but normal.

"I'm known to make them from time to time," the man agreed, hands in his pockets as his mouth twisted into a smirk that could well have been there when he was born for how natural it looked.

In fact, I wouldn't have discounted that possibility.

"Yo, everyone," greeted Azazel, Chiefest and Greatest of Calamities, Scapegoat of God and Governor-General of the Grigori. "Good to see you again, Issei-kun. It's been a while."

As the momentarily-frozen group who had been either working themselves or watching Xenovia and Johan abruptly whirled into action, scrambling to take up positions and prepare for battle, I heard Johan faintly comment "You know, I have to wonder if there's something in the air here that attracts Fallen Angels."

"Asia, is that really…?" Xenovia asked out of the corner of her mouth.

I nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, it is."

Azazel's gaze swept across everyone in the group at least once, even as Issei clued in everyone who hadn't known he was being contracted to play video games with Azazel some nights. Which, to be fair, I had no real reason for knowing either, outside the whole reincarnation thing.

"You've really put together quite a group here…" he mused. "Humans, Devils, Dhampirs, Youkai…" He tilted his head slightly to the side, his gaze intensifying. "...And two Longinus, a holder of twin Sacred Gears, and three wielders of Balance Breaker…" He shook his head. "With a group like this, I suppose it's really no wonder Kokabiel finally met his match."

There was a distinct tensing of the atmosphere as the name was spoken, but Azazel raised his hands out of his pockets, waving them toward us. Considering each of those hands probably had a death toll (and an explosive yield) in excess of any weapon deployed by humanity, it really wasn't a comforting gesture. "Oh, I'm not really here about that. Well, I'm certainly here to apologise for it, since you had to deal with something that should have been my problem to fix… but I'm not looking for revenge or anything."

At this, Rias spoke up. Her voice was frigidly cordial, and her eyes flashed like polished chips of aquamarine. "Is that so? Then what, pray tell, is the Governor-General of the Grigori doing in my territory? Again, at that!" She planted a hand on her hip. "I hope you'll forgive the presumption," she said dryly, "but I do not appreciate the leader of our ancient enemies traipsing into my home and toying with one of my precious Peerage!" She lifted her chin defiantly, waiting for a response.

"Oh, I didn't come here to toy with anyone, little Gremory-san," Azazel replied easily. "Even if I was here for something like that, together your group managed to kill Kokabiel." He smiled, and my carefully-honed danger sense started playing the cello on my spine. "I'd have to take you seriously."

A moment later, the danger passed, and his smile lost the eerie edge it had momentarily gained. "But I'm not. Honestly, I'm not even here for Issei-kun at all."

Rias raised a crimson eyebrow, pretending that there wasn't a fine sheen of sweat on her brow from Azazel's little display. "Oh? Well then, what are you here for?" Left unspoken but understood was the addendum of 'So you can leave as soon as physically possible.'

"Well, partly I'm here to lend a hand getting your old school grounds back in time for the conference," he said, ignoring how highly strung most of us were at this point. "But I'm also here for them."

I didn't need to look over my shoulder to know his hand was pointed right at Johan.

My brother stiffened, then very deliberately relaxed. "Me, Azazel-san? What can I do for you?"

"You're the current holder of Forbidden Balor View," he said, most certainly not asking. "The one who managed to cripple Kokabiel in your confrontation, despite the gap between you, by awakening your Balance Breaker."

Johan nodded, one hand rising to rub absently his throat.

"Excellent!" he declared, grinning widely. "Show me!"

I blinked a few times, a little put off by the blunt and (though the thought would never leave my mind) honestly slightly childish command. From behind me, I heard Johan sigh. "I'll give it a shot, but let me warn you: last time I only managed to activate it by drinking some of Lord Lucifer's blood, so I have no clue if I'll actually manage to activate it."

"Though the blood might have empowered your existence to the degree required for Balance Breaker to forcefully trigger, thanks to your Vampire heritage, it will also have greatly advanced your progress towards attaining that point naturally," Azazel replied, waving him off. "Think of it as having had the trail blazed for you already—it's just a matter of crossing that distance without obstacle, now. You already have a solid grasp on your Sacred Gear, so you've certainly reached this level from such a potent boost."

"I see. Well, like I said, I'll give it a shot," Johan replied, then shut his eyes. I could see his breathing evening out and slowing to a rate that would have a human unconscious. His hands fell limp to his sides, and for a brief moment, there was silence.

Then, a pillar of black and crimson suddenly engulfed him, erupting in a ring from around his feet and twisting around itself as it reached for the sky. The wind pouring off the sudden expulsion of energy was intense, but over its howling I could hear a voice from within the pillar; a voice which was Johan, but was also not.

"Balance Breaker—Visions of the Old Blood: Abyssal Distortion of the Evil Eye."

The pillar made a sudden twisting motion, as if some great massive hand had just grasped it and pulled sideways, then burst apart into scraps of black and red that dissipated into nothing. In the space where it had once been centred, Johan was revealed in that same changed form that I had glimpsed over the battlefield… but now that we weren't fighting for our lives, I could actually get a good look at it.

Johan's skin was usually pale, much more so than was the norm. Now, though, all colour seemed bleached from his features, leaving a white so stark it looked unnatural. His eyes, one a luminescent red that was at once similar to and different from his usual colour and the other a crystalline blue, stood out all the more for the contrast against that blank background.

His usual Gilgamesh rip-off fashion statement was gone; whether it was destroyed or stored elsewhere I wasn't sure, I just knew there wasn't a trace of it remaining. Instead, his shirt and jacket had been replaced by an ink-black garment that reminded me a bit of a kimono, largely concealed beneath a haori the colour of snow that wouldn't have been out of place on a Gotei 13 Captain. The slacks he'd worn had switched place with hakama, the same black as the kimono-thing that was tucked into them, and I could see the ends of white socks and simple tabi protruding from beneath the bottom edge.

He...honestly looked a lot like a Bleach fan who'd created their own edgy OC with super-special eye powers that were totally not the Sharingan, then dressed as them for a con.

'Figures, considering that's not completely inaccurate.'

Johan threw his head back and let out an echoing, ethereal cackle, a noise quite appropriate coming from...well, him. As he wound down from his excessive exultation, he remarked, voice tinged with glee, "I shouldn't have doubted you, Azazel-san."

"Well, I am called an expert on Sacred Gears for a reason," he said cheerfully, waving something that looked an awful lot like a PKE meter up and down in front of Johan.

'...Wait, when did he get past us?!'

The realisation seemed to spread from Xenovia and I out to the rest of the group, that Azazel had moved from being right in front of us to being within a couple of feet of Johan without any of us noticing or reacting. 'Was he there a moment ago? Did he move during the transformation, or did he only move when it finished? Did we just not notice, or was he too fast to perceive?'

I felt a chill run down my spine as Azazel rattled off several rapid-fire questions at Johan, who seemed to be trying to answer them at the same speed and only meeting a certain amount of success. 'Of course. Seraphim. Right.'

"Oh, this is interesting…" Azazel said, mostly to himself, as he examined whatever information he was getting from his device and scribbled in a notebook. "I'm going to have to bring more of my equipment along for the conference, I don't have nearly enough on hand to get proper readings…" Closing his notebook, he nodded firmly. "That'll do for now. Thank you, Vladi-san."

Johan offered a respectful nod, then exhaled, his Balance Breaker flaking off of him and turning to shadowy ash, blown away by unseen wind.

"I should probably get going now, since I'm technically meant to be working at the moment," he continued. "But before I go…"

He pointed at Kiba. "I've never seen anyone hold two Sacred Gears at once before; however, the similarities between Sword Birth and Blade Blacksmith are great enough that you should be able to intermix their effects, rather than having them cancel one another out."

Then he turned to Tosca. "Bulwark Verðandi doesn't have to completely eliminate the flow of time within its confines; if you learn to properly control it you'll be able to decide what experiences time and what doesn't."

His finger was pointed at me, and I resisted the urge to dive out of its path like I would that of a gun. "Twilight Healing is known as the most powerful healing-type Sacred Gear, but it doesn't just heal; past users of that Sacred Gear have used it to create protective barriers and blessings as well."

The Digit of Doom was aimed at Issei. "The power of Boosted Gear can do much more than just enhance your own characteristics; its Gift ability can be applied to almost anything, so for example you could double the distance between you and your opponent or you could double the weight of gravity on them. If you start to learn Devil magic properly, you'll be able to imagine those things well enough to Boost them."

And finally, to Johan. "Your Balance Breaker is still new and untrained; you can enter and exit it at will, but you'll find you lack fine control and you'll tire very quickly. Start training with small-scale effects until you can do precisely what you intend to, and you'll find it much easier to move on to big performances."

Azazel nodded to himself even as I was taking in what he'd said and looking down at my own hands. '...Protective barriers, huh?'

"I look forward to seeing just what all of you manage to accomplish in the future," he said. "I'd better be going now."

I blinked, and he was by the treeline, one foot paused in the act of stepping into the shadows of the canopy. "Oh… one last thing." He looked back over his shoulder, directly to where Valerie was laying on the bleachers. "Do be careful with her, Vladi-san; the Sephiroth Graal is a burden that I wouldn't wish on anyone."

And with that, he disappeared like smoke on the wind.

I smothered the urge to groan as Xenovia turned to look, first at Valerie, and then at me. "...Asia."

"...Yes, Xenovia?"

"Please be honest with me. Did you carry a Longinus user on your back across almost half the world with no more protection than a duffle bag and a small shop's contingent of pillows?"

I remained silent.

"Asia."

"If I don't say anything then I'm not lying to you."

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the expression on Rias' face. It cycled rapidly between concern, excitement, stress, and perhaps half a dozen other emotions before settling on exhausted consternation. "This is my life now, isn't it?" the Gremory heiress asked nobody in particular.

Johan walked over and gave her a comforting pat on the shoulder.

…

The seemingly sympathetic gesture was rather ruined by the shit-eating grin on his face, however.

I chuckled weakly as Xenovia and Irina both did their level best to burn holes through my skull with their eyes alone. "Uh… I did it for friendship?" 'That's the magic word, right?'

The glares intensified, and I could see Johan trying desperately not to laugh.

'Or not.'