[So vain. Maybe if he feels like being a liar, he can use that to his benefit later.]
[Still, he will give the demon this: it's prompt. Almost immediately he can see the difference in his teacher as the steam from his skin starts to fade away, and his face goes slack. This time instead of steady slowness, Chikusa's words quicken for the closing prayers and blessings so that he can drop down to kneel besides the older man. All of his vitals, he checks immediately before the Bible snaps shut.]
[Chikusa is by all means religious. Incredibly so, in fact. However, he's not the type to be so blinded by his faith to think his book is going to be a suitable replacement for first aid.]
[Predictably, his teacher is dazed and tired from his purely human body having been mistreated and malnourished while used as a puppet. Demonic possession and its after effects aren't the only thing to worry about. Chikusa acts promptly, finishing up the cleansings before calling for assistance. Other priests and nuns hurry in, helping where he can't on his own. Chikusa stays nearby, for a while, until they've helped the man into a car to get him to the nearest hospital.]
[Chikusa doesn't go with them.]
[Instead, as composed as when he'd first stepped into that room, he returns to the church. That's out of his hands, now, and the Lord knows just how much he needs to put into his prayers today especially. Bowing his head at this point and clasping his hands in prayer is almost as familiar to him as walking or breathing by this point in his life.]
[It's been one of the only stable things he's ever possessed.]
[What life he could have had was robbed from him long ago, after all. A single child to first generation parents in a foreign country, left on his own after a disastrous accident... The row of foster homes that had come after had left him adrift, unanchored, until finally one worked out for longer than only a few months or meager year. So much religious fervor in one household could have probably kept a hundred demons out, or at least that's what it had certainly felt like to a child. The other children in that home had never cared for such strictness, but Chikusa had welcomed it. It had moored him when he couldn't find any such thing with his peers, too quiet and distant to easily make friends.]
[There's something reassuring in knowing that merely bowing his head and believing will have his words heard to someone who cares. Anyone.]
[After prayer, he spends the rest of the day making sure he's cleansed of any sin and given whatever blessing he can receive. Will it stop a powerful demon from taking his body? Of course not. The day's exorcism has proven it can come for him whenever it wants and not be stopped. However, that doesn't mean he has to make it easy for it.]
[Prayer, cleansing, blessings, and then helping tend to the church... It takes up the rest of the day easily, and, by the time Chikusa leaves, night has fallen. He doesn't let it worry him as he sets off for his home, a rosary wrapped around his wrist and palm with his thumb rubbing at the beads. He recites verses in his head the whole way home. Usually, it's only half devotion, and just as half something to occupy his mind.]
[However, making a bargain with a demon makes things seem a little more relevant than usual.]
[It's that same thinking which has him bless every inch of his apartment when he gets there. There's not much ground to cover. He's never wanted for much, and that includes living space. The decor is plain, too, but that just leaves less for him to worry over, right? It's what he often tells himself whenever he's fixed a plain dinner and eaten by the window. Tonight, however, that's not what's on his mind. Instead, as one hand helps him eat, he sketches lightly in a small journal. Its pages are filled with a lot of things, often idle sketches from a particularly noteworthy individual he'd seen at the church, or a scene from outside his apartment.]
[Today, it's of his teacher- expression twisted into a smug smirk, one eye distinctly different from the other.]
[Heterochromia. It's a notable trait. Perhaps if he does run into it again, he'll be able to take notes for the church. It may make future exorcisms of it easier.]
[Despite how he's perfectly prepared for his humble abode to be turned upside down... Nothing happens for the rest of the night, and Chikusa recites his evening prayers with a slight frown. His mind is elsewhere. Was it just a bluff, to hide weakness that wasn't immediately apparent? Perhaps he just needs to be patient, and not let his guard down.]
[For now, however, he turns out the light and thinks of it no longer as he drifts to sleep with a cross resting over his chest.]
no subject
[Still, he will give the demon this: it's prompt. Almost immediately he can see the difference in his teacher as the steam from his skin starts to fade away, and his face goes slack. This time instead of steady slowness, Chikusa's words quicken for the closing prayers and blessings so that he can drop down to kneel besides the older man. All of his vitals, he checks immediately before the Bible snaps shut.]
[Chikusa is by all means religious. Incredibly so, in fact. However, he's not the type to be so blinded by his faith to think his book is going to be a suitable replacement for first aid.]
[Predictably, his teacher is dazed and tired from his purely human body having been mistreated and malnourished while used as a puppet. Demonic possession and its after effects aren't the only thing to worry about. Chikusa acts promptly, finishing up the cleansings before calling for assistance. Other priests and nuns hurry in, helping where he can't on his own. Chikusa stays nearby, for a while, until they've helped the man into a car to get him to the nearest hospital.]
[Chikusa doesn't go with them.]
[Instead, as composed as when he'd first stepped into that room, he returns to the church. That's out of his hands, now, and the Lord knows just how much he needs to put into his prayers today especially. Bowing his head at this point and clasping his hands in prayer is almost as familiar to him as walking or breathing by this point in his life.]
[It's been one of the only stable things he's ever possessed.]
[What life he could have had was robbed from him long ago, after all. A single child to first generation parents in a foreign country, left on his own after a disastrous accident... The row of foster homes that had come after had left him adrift, unanchored, until finally one worked out for longer than only a few months or meager year. So much religious fervor in one household could have probably kept a hundred demons out, or at least that's what it had certainly felt like to a child. The other children in that home had never cared for such strictness, but Chikusa had welcomed it. It had moored him when he couldn't find any such thing with his peers, too quiet and distant to easily make friends.]
[There's something reassuring in knowing that merely bowing his head and believing will have his words heard to someone who cares. Anyone.]
[After prayer, he spends the rest of the day making sure he's cleansed of any sin and given whatever blessing he can receive. Will it stop a powerful demon from taking his body? Of course not. The day's exorcism has proven it can come for him whenever it wants and not be stopped. However, that doesn't mean he has to make it easy for it.]
[Prayer, cleansing, blessings, and then helping tend to the church... It takes up the rest of the day easily, and, by the time Chikusa leaves, night has fallen. He doesn't let it worry him as he sets off for his home, a rosary wrapped around his wrist and palm with his thumb rubbing at the beads. He recites verses in his head the whole way home. Usually, it's only half devotion, and just as half something to occupy his mind.]
[However, making a bargain with a demon makes things seem a little more relevant than usual.]
[It's that same thinking which has him bless every inch of his apartment when he gets there. There's not much ground to cover. He's never wanted for much, and that includes living space. The decor is plain, too, but that just leaves less for him to worry over, right? It's what he often tells himself whenever he's fixed a plain dinner and eaten by the window. Tonight, however, that's not what's on his mind. Instead, as one hand helps him eat, he sketches lightly in a small journal. Its pages are filled with a lot of things, often idle sketches from a particularly noteworthy individual he'd seen at the church, or a scene from outside his apartment.]
[Today, it's of his teacher- expression twisted into a smug smirk, one eye distinctly different from the other.]
[Heterochromia. It's a notable trait. Perhaps if he does run into it again, he'll be able to take notes for the church. It may make future exorcisms of it easier.]
[Despite how he's perfectly prepared for his humble abode to be turned upside down... Nothing happens for the rest of the night, and Chikusa recites his evening prayers with a slight frown. His mind is elsewhere. Was it just a bluff, to hide weakness that wasn't immediately apparent? Perhaps he just needs to be patient, and not let his guard down.]
[For now, however, he turns out the light and thinks of it no longer as he drifts to sleep with a cross resting over his chest.]