Gravedigger
When an aloof, bad-mouthed exorcist with a vendetta against demons meets Amaimon, a Gehenna prince with a penchant for killing anything that moves, all assumed that the very pits of Hell would break open. What actually happens, arguably, is much worse. Amaimon/OC

Genre: Adventure, Supernatural

A/N: Finished this up while working on the second chap of Ice King which should be up soon, if anyone's following that story, lol. What can I say, plot bunnies are fun :P

Disclaimer: I do not own Blue Exorcist.

Chapter 1- From the Grave

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I wiped the sweat from my brows, pausing to look at the deep grave I had dug. The earth had given way at my fingertips, gaped open to accept the mahogany coffin that would soon find its final resting place. I had measured the area well enough, untangled any loose roots and rocks to leave the dark soil free of any blemishes. The grave would probably be filled in the morning— I knew the exorcist who was to be buried here and assumed he would be getting a real funeral, unlike other, less known exorcists.

"I'm about done here." I called to the only other gravedigger at True Cross Cemetery, Tetsuo Shiki. He was an elderly man with messy, white hair and a heavily lined face, but his eyes which were a sharp grey, shone with intelligence and understanding. He grunted in response, still working to fill his final grave of the night. I took that as my cue to leave, picking up my shovel and oil-lamp before disappearing into the funeral home.

While the Vatican had the funds to employ actual machines and enough staff to make the workload near non-existent, the Honorary Knight of the Japanese Branch, Mephisto Pheles, seemed adamant on keeping actual gravediggers to make the graves. Which I didn't question, considering he was a centuries old demon king (which one, I was unsure due to his alias) and enjoyed the usual pomp and theatrics that went on in human life— and death.

Grave-digging was my day job— err, night job. All exorcists were required to have some other occupation as a front, and I had chosen this job for one reason and one reason only: it gave me plenty of time to hunt demons. Well, that and it gave me more free time then you'd imagine (cremations were on a rise but I was paid a steady salary based on the hours I worked, not how many graves I filled).

Now, there's no tragic past or other bullshit as to why I have the second-highest kill count. I do it because it's what I've been trained to do. Simply put, exorcists exorcise demons. Gravediggers dig graves. I did what I did to make a living. Harsh? Probably, but at least I killed them quickly and efficiently, not like others who toyed with demons and made exorcism some twisted sport. I also wasn't trigger happy; I killed demons on the Vatican's list and those that I came across in my wanderings, if they were indeed a threat to society.

Shuffling to my own metal locker, I put my equipment inside, taking a quick peak at my appearance from the small mirror tacked inside. I vainly wiped at the dirt stains against my pale skin which looked more like bruises than anything else. My bright red hair (a genetic gift from my mother, who while from Ireland, met my father during an exorcist mission in Kyoto) was also similarly covered in soil. It looked more like a muddy brown in the dim light of the locker room as I shook out my short, boyish red locks for excess dirt. Feeling satisfied enough that I didn't look like I had just clawed myself out of a grave, I set my dark eyes to the black coat curled inside my locker.

I quickly slipped on the tattered exorcist coat. It had been burned recently when a Salamander demon which had been assumed peaceful started randomly setting villages on fire. Needless to say, it probably had something to do with what the Vatican wasn't telling us.

I had noticed the 'cover-up' earlier than most due to my kill count. It had risen exponentially in the past few months as I was given mission after mission without reprieve. So much so that I actually had to go with a team (people weren't exactly my cup of tea) to ensure a successful completion of said missions. The demons were becoming particularly restless. The findings in Yemen were kept in wraps and only those above upper first-class (and a few exceptions) knew the true details. All other exorcists were put on high-alert, but told nothing of the actual danger.

So here I was, an upper second-class exorcist (which I had worked damn hard for), left out in the dark. I couldn't even get anything out of Shura, despite taking her out for a couple beers. She had rambled on and on about her mission with Satan's son, but even being horribly inebriated would not loosen her tongue on what was actually found in the desert. All I knew was that whatever it was caused most demons to be particularly aggressive and flighty; restful spirits that guarded shrines were even starting to cause problems.

Sighing, I picked up my duffle bag which held my exorcist weapon of choice, an M82A1 semi-automatic anti-materiel rifle filled with magnum holy bullets. I was a bit of a sharp-shooter, you could say. I dabbled in Aria as well, but I preferred staying silent when it came to demon hunting— it was much easier to kill something that didn't know you were there. Saying one final goodbye to Shiki-san (who was one of the few people I actually enjoyed spending time with, not including Shura), I left the graveyard and started making my way towards my apartment.

Which would have signaled the end of a normal night. I would have stumbled back to my apartment, taken a shower, and spent a few hours reading until the spindles of sleep became too much. I would have done this, if a dozen king hobgoblins hadn't appeared at my side the moment I made it to the apartment complex.

"Shit..." I muttered, checking the quiet street. There was no one, to my relief. It wouldn't do any good to see some apparent psychopath shooting at nothing in the middle of the night.

Reaching into my long duffle bag, I quickly set to work, reaching for my smaller hand-pistol that I kept on me just in case (especially when long-distance attacks were impossible). Pushing in a clip of holy bullets I muttered a little aria chant that would strengthen the bullets; I was hoping to not have to waste too many good bullets on small fries.

The hobgoblins were already acting as if I had doused them in holy water; the twelve were scurrying across the street, running into lampposts and brick façades before stumbling back towards me. They must have eventually became cognizant enough to understand my existence was threatening to them because in a flash of green and red all twelve turned their crimson eyes towards me. They attacked simultaneously.

A bit startled by their sudden shift in behavior, I managed to shoot six of them before being tackled to the ground by one especially angered hobgoblin. I fell painfully to the concrete, feeling my head collide with the concrete. The world was blurry for a moment as I lifted the barrel of my gun right in the middle of the demon's eyes and pulled the trigger.

In moments the demon disintegrated, only to be followed by five more disgruntled hobgoblins. They all charged at my weakened form, the largest landing mere centimeters from my head. Its revolting breath blasted air into my face as I rolled to the side, just missing another hobgoblin's attempt at impaling my side with its clawed arms.

It took me three shots to end those two while the remaining three hobgoblins scurried away, knocking over trashcans and running into street lamps on their way.

"Like hell you're leaving!" I growled, getting ready to sprint after them. But just as the group turned the corner a new, different hobgoblin leapt from the roof of the apartment.

This one was yellow with matching markings and didn't even attack; it just sat there obediently as if it were waiting for someone. Against my better judgment, I holstered my gun, taking a closer look at the strangely-colored hobgoblin. Perhaps it was an exorcist's, I mused, noticing the chain and leash that trailed behind it.

That's a bit... much. Tamers, or at least the ones I knew, tended to be very kind to their summons. While this behavior wasn't unheard of, it made me wonder just who summoned this unusual hobgoblin and if it was really such a threat.

"There you are, Behemoth." An apathetic voice spoke from the same roof that the demon had leapt down from. I had to squint to see the visage of a man hop down from the building, landing near silently besides his demon.

Upon seeing the man's face clearly thanks to the nearby street lamp I immediately paled, fingers searching for my holstered gun. It was the tell-tale signs of a demon-possessed human: sharp fangs which peaked curiously from under his lips when he stuck a lollipop into his mouth, narrowed pupils, darkened claws, and pointed ears. His unusual shade of hair, a dark forest green, was also another obvious sign that the possession wasn't from just any regular demon.

"Who are you?" I questioned bluntly.

"What's your name?" He questioned back, a curious glint in his eyes. His cerulean orbs kept returning to the holster at my side; I guess he had seen my interaction with the other hobgoblins.

I sighed but responded accordingly, "Avaron Kamiya."

"Avaron..." He parroted back. This caused my eyebrows to furrow in exasperation. Either this guy was an idiot or he really wanted to piss me off.

And your name?" I tried again, not even bothering to hide my annoyance.

"Oh, I'm Amaimon. Nice to meet you... I guess."

He shrugged, pulling on Behemoth's leash. "Come on Behemoth. Aniue said I couldn't play with any of the humans in this town."

Oh shit. He was a fucking demon king! No exorcist alive had ever taken down even a single king on their own and I sure as hell wasn't planning to do that now. I knew that even my prized rifle would do nothing to the king. Not to mention any Aria chants; the problem with demon kings was that while we were all required to learn their fatal verses, it was near impossible to recite them all without dying first due to their extraordinary length. Amaimon's fatal verse was actually the whole book of Job, if I remembered correctly.

Hesitantly, and most likely due to my stupid curiosity I muttered, "So you're the king of Earth then..."

He nodded, apparently hearing my statement. "And you're the demon killer."

"Demon killer?"

He pointed to the ash-like remains of the hobgoblins. "I heard about you in Gehenna." The demon spoke, turning away.

"Wait!" I called back, almost clamping a hand over my mouth. Just what did I think I was doing? Out of all the demon kings, Amaimon was known especially for his ferocity. He killed out of boredom, leaving both trails of exorcists and demons not under his domain in his wake. For a demon connected with life (Earth), he certainly enjoyed death a bit too much, not that I had room to talk. I knew he was dangerous but even I had my limits; there was no way I could get out of a fight with him without losing a limb, at the very least.

"Do you need something, demon killer?" He asked lackadaisically, pulling on Behemoth's chains again. The demon had found our conversation particularly boring as he had fallen asleep.

"Leave Assiah."

The green-haired man cocked his head to the side. "Why?"

I really didn't expect this situation to be going so... civil, for lack of better words.

"Because you're causing a lot of trouble."

It looked like the Earth King was actually pondering my words until he shook his head, pointing at me with a single darkened nail. "Okay, on one condition."

"Which is...?"

"You have to play with me. I wanna go up against the demon killer." He said childishly before disappearing into the night, not even waiting for an answer. I vainly hoped that the demon wouldn't come back— I almost tricked myself into believing he wouldn't show, until a few nights later when I found him sitting lazily on my living room sofa like he owned the place.

A/N: Just another plot-bunny I needed to write down. This will be a more action-oriented fic, to be sure. This was more of an introduction to Avaron; next chap should be an interesting fight and more Amaimon so… XD

Review?

-Isis