Had circumstances been different, Vento wouldn't be here. She wouldn't be seated here at this table with such an annoyed look on her face. Her regular yellow dress was damaged and far too eye catching for lying low. Maybe that was why she looked so out of place wearing a cotton-lace dress with a denim cardigan with little securing strands of linen tied in bows to secure it on her wire like frame. its innocent sky blue clashed horribly with her piercings. The numerous studs of metal on her brows, nose, lips were enough to make people sick. But had she opened her mouth, people would see the stud piercing her tongue. It was bizarre to say the least. She had features however, that were not too far removed from the image given by her attire. Her face now lacked that thick make-up that looked ill, instead replaced with a palor reminiscent of alabaster. Her hair was short but feathered lightly to the side like golden threads swaying in the wind. With all those features and her natural scowl. She made quite a sight. Malevolent, but fragile; violent, but somehow kind; ugly, yet beautiful. Needless to say it left many to stare at the female member of God's Right Seat.

Her form was limp, lying forlornly gainst the cushioned backrest of the booth bench. Her blue eyes strayed out the large window. Tracing steps, watching the people, analyzing the paths of attack and retreat. What they came to rest on though was the visage of a family. A mother, a father , a 5-year-old son, and a 7-year-old daughter. She watched them as the children ran about, pulling and dragging at their elders as they crossed the street. The mother seemingly exasperated while her husband felt a content grin. It looked like a happy family. The boy did most of the dragging and pointed somewhere in Vento's direction, probably asking to eat in the store she was a patron to. In his eagerness his hands had slipped and he fell on his back. His parents were surprised and kneeled to his aid. But even as they stood him up and nursed the bump on the back of his head with sweet words and caresses, he still cried. In the parents' time of distress, their daughter stepped up and spoke a few words to her younger brother. She gave him a small mussing of the hair and a smile crept up on that baby face again. Truly, had crcumstances been different Vento of the Front would not be in this place.

"Well that's a rare sight.", a voice cut into Vento's thoughts. The clatter of a plastic tray and the squeak of the pleather bench across announced the return of her companion. Or in this case, she should call him her warden. "Here in academy city, it's usually just students and staff. There are practically no parents living inside.".

She heard him say those things but she did not comment. Waxed paper crinkled gently and the sound of someone taking a huge bite could be heard.

"Aren't you going to eat?".

She paid him no mind.

"Ah, maybe because it's hamburgers and fries. I thought all nuns eat fastfood, maybe I was just basing you off the wrong nun."

His voice held no contempt. No mocking whatsoever. It grated more on her nerves that he used that voice. The one he always used. Honest, clueless but still very sincere in concern. She hated the fact he spoke to her with compassion. "I'm not a nun you heathen monkey.", Vento grunted as she reached for the pile of burgers for the first time. As she lifted her preferred item, she stared incredulously at the tray. A pile of burgers was wrong. It was better to describe it as a mountain. "What in the name of whatever pagan diety you worship is this?".

Brows furrowed in question before the male sitting across her answered honestly, "food."

Vento glared, " that's not what I meant you bone-headed heathen.".

"Ah! I got so used to feeding that nun like this that I ordered for 30 people on reflex!"

"I'm not a nun!", Vento practically screeched at the infuriating man before her. Opposed to the hostility she normally drew out of people, this idiotic sincerity was far harder to deal with. Even if her Divine Punishment were not negated by his right hand, if Kamijou Touma had faced Vento of the Front with this lethal sincerity, she would have been finished. Taking a large bite, she looked out the window again and decided to ignore the fool. She had more pressing matters to think about, like why was she stuck in academy city as a prisoner? And more so under the responsibility of this carefree moron, if his choking on a clump of fries and milkshake were any indication.

"Haa... Such misfortune.", the young man said.

Vento watched him with a critcal eye. Normally, she should be dead. The fact that she wasn't had always confused her to no end. Aleister had no reason to let her live. The other members of God's Right Seat would have collected her if she survived on that rainy 30th September. But neither was the case. When she asked before, the boy had said he pulled some strings. He talked to people into letting her go. He had said she was not bound by the fighting and was free to go. But she didn't. Or more like she couldn't. She had nothing, nowhere tht waited for her. She had nothing to welcome her back with open arms other than her place as the Roman Ctholic Church's ultimate weapon. So he quickly, unhesitatingly grasped her by the arm and told her: "I won't let you go. Until you've made your peace to find your place from a world of bloodshed this right hand of mine will never let you go."

Ever since, she'd lived with him and the index librorum prohibitum. The days passed like a blur. Days where she had to restrain herself from whacking Kamijou with her wind hammer whenever he caught her undressed(on accident), days where she fought against a hungry nun and a cat for lunch and dinner. And despite how hectic they all seemed, they were peaceful days. For someone like her, those lukewarm feelings were something she hated so much. She was a person of spite, of pain, of insults and provocation. She was a weapon. These feelings of normalcy were only rust on her dulling edge.

But she never did figure out. Why? Why did this situation come about? How did Kamijou Touma tke custody of the prisoner known as Vento of the Front. The science side perhaps would aquiesce. Imagine Breaker was something of great importance to them so perhaps there was leeway. As the keeper of the keeper of 103,000 grimoires, perhaps the anglicans pardoned this as well. But what about God's right seat? Why had neither Acqua nor Terra collected her?

"Why?"

"Why what?", kamijou replied cluelessly.

"Why did God's Right Seat abandon me?", Vento felt her voice sound surprisingly bitter.

A heavy silence fell on the table. It was a topic Touma had repeatedly dodged. This time however, there seemed to be no avoiding it. Vento was tired, tired of looking, tired of searching. That place Kamijou spoke of didn't exist. No, the place Vento belonged to did exist. It was the Roman Catholic Church. Her place was their vanguard, their shield that carved a bloody path through a battlefield of non-believers' corpses. As things stood, even that place seemed to abandon her as well. She was utterly lost.

Kamijou spoke. His face stern and his tone measured. " they didn't abandon you.", his declaration ringing clearly in her ears. "Acqua of the back collected you after our fight.".

Vento's eyes narrowed into slits, "then why am I still here?".

"Because I asked him to let you go."

"That doesn't sound possible. I know him, he's not the type to be moved by pitiful stories.".

"But he still understood tragedy.", the boy interjected. "He still had honor left in him. He could understand. That your path as God's Right Seat would end meaninglessly. Just suffering and no salvation would reach you. He understood that. He knew your decision to fight was nothing more than penance and self-destruction. That cause doesn't belong on the battlefield."

Hearing that, hearing those words, Vento turned livid. "How dare you! How dare you brush off my reason to fight! How dare you insult my brother's passing by undermining my choices! I fight for revenge!"

"On yourself.", the boy cut her off. "You must understand. You already know since that fight. Science did not kill your brother. Your brother died saving you. No one is to blame. Why are you performing this revenge, that nobody but you wants, on yourself by your own hands!? With that, ren't you just trampling on your brother's feelings?".

Vento opened her mouth to retort. But she couldn't. Her heart burned to rebuke Kamijou, but at the same time his words were understood. Vento was a mess. "What can I do?", she spat out the words like a snake spitting venom. "Why should I be happy when my brother had to suffer? I don't want to be happy. I'm fine with suffering.".

"Then suffer being happy.", Touma smiled. "Atone by living the life he passed on to you. And even if after that you still feel displeased, then I will make you happy for as long as it takes until you accept it."

The last statement reached Vento's ears and her cheeks turned pink. "Uncouth barbaric perverted heathen monkey.", she hissed under her warm pink cheeks. A familiar lukewarm sensation pulsing in her chest. Yes, had circumstances been different, Vento would not be in this place. But for now, she didn't mind so much.

Touma tilted his head. He wondered if she understood that he was willing to be her friend.