It's a bit late to try that when it worked so well on you, isn't it?
[At least, if nothing else, it had certainly shut him up more than regular water would have done.]
[Coming to a stop, he rests his hands on the counter overlooking the little room. Never before has he had to deal with this kind of dream. What kind of protection does he have? It's hard to say, but treating it lightly can't be an option.]
Are there any other kinds you know how to have? You didn't seem to like flattery or flirtation.
[It was said dryly enough, the sting of holy water still memorable after a week's worth of time. Mukuro closed the sketch book decisively, getting up to stretch. It had been a while since he had tried to walk in a human's dreams, and while it wasn't as stifling as possessing one, it was still constraining. He wandered a bit closer, canting his head to the side as he smirked.]
Or have you been isolated for so long you can't remember how to have a proper conversation?
[But it's fine, he reminds himself firmly. He's still living a good life. For now, he focuses on the demon on the other side of an imaginary counter space.]
I'm simply disbelieving that a demon wants to talk and nothing else.
Are you so certain? Despite agreeing to be visited by a demon, there are no other priests to accompany or protect you here. No one has come to check up on you since the exorcism. Your apartment has little sign of anyone coming here but you.
[Mukuro paused, leaning against the counter, smirk curling at the edge of his lips.]
Well, except perhaps me.
[How does it feel priest, he was curious to know, to have a demon as his only visitor? Though for now, he would tread carefully.
He let out a small chuckle at Chikusa's ( well-founded ) disbelief, propping his chin up with an upturned palm.]
Are there other things you are willing to offer me then, Chikusa Kakimoto?
[Having the utter hollowness of his life picked and prodded at draws an immediate reaction out of him. Nothing obvious, more subtle- a tension gathering in his shoulders, pale eyes seeming to darken, and his arms crossing over one another. It's an attempt at seeming authoritative but it's only half successful. Instead, it more gives off the impression that he's holding himself together.]
...Everyone has been concerned with Father Morgan's condition, and I can tend to myself.
[But it's not something he truly wants, no. Admitting such weakness to a demon, however, is asking for trouble.]
[As much as he wants to distance himself from the creature, Chikusa stays where he is on the other side of the counter. He's not going to be chased off in his own home, even if it is a shadow of such.]
The only thing I agreed to was to let you visit me. I have no desire to give you anything else.
[Earlier, when Chikusa had assumed his teacher to be weak, Mukuro had wondered what sort of weakness he had seen in the man. And what sort he saw in himself. That shallow posturing screamed weakness, cracks in Chikusa's armor that Mukuro could slither into and extort. Maybe he would, gently and almost lovingly. Tearing a person apart required a delicate hand, especially if Mukuro wanted to piece him back together. So, he only let out a small chuckle, leaning back away from the counter to saunter around the room, taking it in.]
We both know that your mentor will make a full recovery. Though it is admirable of your clergy, knowing full and well that a demon has taken an interest in you, are trying to distance themselves further still from you. I hadn't thought it possible.
[He turned back to face Chikusa with an amused smirk, red eye glowing ominously.]
Do you really value your company so little? [As for 'no desire' well. That would get an almost fond chuckle out of him.] Liar.
[Demons lie. Demons will say whatever they need to in order to drag humans down into sin. Believe in nothing a demon says.]
[They're lessons he's listened to and committed to heart for years. He knows this. Still, the words dig in like nails on the back of his neck. As the demon walks off, Chikusa finally lets himself close his eyes and compose himself. Hail Mary, full of grace... That's right. Slowly, his shoulders straighten out, and he opens his eyes again to meet that eerie stare.]
It doesn't matter if other humans distance themselves from me.
[He has someone who will never leave him.]
Can a demon of all creatures really go around calling others "liars" and believe to be taken seriously?
[Also known as the most difficult ones to get to. They would suffer in eternity with a damnable smile on their faces, and Mukuro could never bring himself to want to deal with them. Understanding them was bad enough, but comprehending them. Well.
He should have known really, since Chikusa Kakimoto seemed to find his peace rather quickly despite Mukuro's barbs, and with a light sigh, he turned away from him, heading into the bedroom. This place was far to small for his liking. Anything man-made typically was.]
Shouldn't that be taken more seriously than anyone else's word? A demon would know a liar better than anyone, wouldn't they?
[This time, it's his turn to scoff, a quiet huff of air that's directed down to his chest than to the demon.]
I'm hardly deserving of a title like that.
[All he does is his duty, and he tries not to complain. Sometimes it's not completely successful, but that's just a sign of how young and inexperienced he is, isn't it?]
[As the demon starts to drift towards his room, Chikusa finally makes a move to follow after him with a slight frown. Dream this might be, and demons don't exactly care about privacy or personal space, but it doesn't mean he has to like it just snooping about there. Especially since, in comparison to the rest of his apartment, there's a little more there. Sketchbooks that have been filled to the brink are nestled inbetween holy texts. A small shelf has its own collection of psychology books, studying the mental health of a person. Near the door, even, a rarely touched small rack of varying hats.]
And a demon can't be relied on to tell the truth, so accusations from one such as yourself are inherently untrustworthy.
My, my, then what do you feel you deserve Chikusa Kakimoto? To be ignored by your unhearing lord? Shunned by your fellow man? [A small pause as Mukuro turned back to smirk at him, lashes lowered.] To be haunted by a demon?
[As if he was unaware or unknowing of Chikusa following him, Mukuro entered in the bedroom casually. He ran his hands gently over the spines of each of the books, taking in the titles and how many sketchbooks there were.]
Because all men are known to be completely honest? [He turned to look back at Chikusa Kakimoto, mouth curled up in amusement, though his eyes were sharp.] Or are you just picking and choosing what to believe, like so many of the faithful? So quick to label us as beyond saving but forgetting we were angels once, too.
[He plucked out a sketchbook at random, settling down to sit on Chikusa's bed.]
Please don't act like you inviting yourself into my life is by any means something I requested, thank you.
[Following after him, he frowns and ignores the rest of the statement. It's becoming more and more obvious that humoring such a thing merely encourages the creature.]
Perhaps you were once angels. However, that does not get rid of the fact that, whenever your kind interact with humans, you attempt to drag them into sin. That is the difference between believing you, and believing a fallible human.
...And thank you, I suppose. [Even if he's wondering at the sincerity of the compliment.]
Didn't you? [Mukuro paused in his perusing of the sketchbook to look up at Chikusa Kakimoto, one eyebrow delicately raised.] You have dispatched more of my brethren than any has in your generation. Yet instead of being hailed as a saint or savior, you're feared and shunned.
[He let the book snap shut as he stood at Chikusa's retort, stepping close enough to him that he could reach out and touch him if he felt like. He resisted the urge for a moment, leaning forward with his lips quirked slightly at the corners.]
I merely help grant wishes that are held quietly in the human heart. Most were grateful to know that someone had heard their prayers and cared enough to respond. Are you sure it's not in human nature to 'sin' and be forgiven in endless cycles? What joy is there to be had to be alone and righteous?
[That being said, Mukuro only let out a small laugh, going to return the sketchbook to its rightful place, instead plucking out a textbook.]
[Having the demon so close is setting something inside of him completely on edge- like static electricity prickling in the air, feeling an earthy smell fill his lungs before a storm. He's expecting anything to happen, and having the demon turn away lets him breathe again.]
...I hardly think I'm feared. [But he doesn't deny 'shunned'.] Can you really say what your kind does is out of "caring"?
[He's seen too many possessions to believe that. Staying where he is, he purses his lips at Mukuro's casual invasion of his books, but doesn't tell him off.]
No. I haven't.
[There's never truly been anyone to show them to, now that he's become an adult.]
Kufufu are you so sure? Those who have crossed your path once are not eager to do so again.
[Which had been what had caught Mukuro's interest in the first place. While he did not fear or respect many other demons, there were some he has listened to with interest or followed out of boredom. To keep hearing the name Chikusa Kakimoto amongst them was a warning to many, but for Mukuro it had been an invitation.
That retort would only make Mukuro cluck his tongue in dismay as he shook his head.]
I can no more speak for all of demonkind than you could mankind. However, I have never had any who complained about my methods.
[And if they had, he wasn't above cutting their tongues out or making them bite it off themselves.
He met Chikusa's gaze at that, frowning slightly.]
[One eyebrow quirks up in disbelief that there's not a single soul who's complained about him. That sounds like the most blatant lie of all. It's almost insulting, even. Before he can make any claims about that, however, that question comes towards him and he shifts.]
My teacher is a busy man. I shouldn't bother him with trivial things like that.
Although it seems like you certainly have a lot of spare time if you're investigating the sketches done in a human's spare time.
Kufufu are you inviting me to come back and look at them more?
[He put the textbook back in its place, taking the newest sketchbook out to turn back to the pages where Chikusa Kakimoto had sketched him, shrugging carelessly.]
It is as you say. You humans talk about eternity with no real understanding or comprehension to the word. I have lived a long, long time and it feels like any reason to continue is hard to come by.
[He paused as he sat back down on the bed, laying down on it so he could flip through the sketchpad, hair fanning out around him.]
It was no lie when I said you were a rare human, enough to pique my interest. It will be a pleasant way to pass the time, getting to know you.
[Honeyed words. A feeling of importance. Chikusa reminds himself that this is how demons work, even as he comes further into the room to finally take a seat at his desk.]
And what would you do instead of continuing on? If I wasn't here for you to bother, that is.
[It's something he's extremely curious about. Humans such as himself can't kill demons. That's not within the meager amount of power that they've been granted. Such strength is for the higher powers. All they can do is chase them out, really.]
[But could they die completely? Just waste away? He doubts he'll get an honest answer... but it's worth trying anyway, so long as the demon is talkative.]
[It doesn't escape Mukuro's notice, this sudden interest in his, and he will seize what little victories he can. Chuckling lightly, he sits up, tracing the sketches Chikusa had made of him with a gloved hand.]
I've already said far too much for. Allow me to visit you again tomorrow and I might tell you.
[Because as powerful as Mukuro was, it was easier to get a human's consent. If demons were able to possess and take over just by willpower alone, Mukuro could have armies at his feet and slaughter on a mass scale. Instead, they were still bound by arcane rules and laws. Just because they had been thrown out of heaven didn't mean they still didn't have a higher power to answer to.
Besides, if he was going to visit as often as he wanted to, Chikusa would still need to have some sleep or else the signs of a demon visiting him might become apparent far earlier than what Mukuro would like.]
[Just like that, Chikusa closes himself and withdraws with his usual blank expression sliding perfectly into place.]
I don't have much interest in things that "might" happen.
[It's a weak promise, after all, although he'll give credit where credit is due- at least it's honest in some way. After all, with "might", deciding not to do something is still perfectly within its bounds.]
[There's no immediate answer. Chikusa leans back in his chair, fingers grinding against cheap plastic, and thinks. Honestly, tempting fate is probably going to be one of this worse decisions, but his curiosity is still tugging at him.]
...Tell me something I can find out and prove is truthful on my own, and I'll put more stock into you telling the truth.
[Truth isn't the usual currency of a demon, and quite frankly, speaking it is more irritating than having holy water flung in his face. Mukuro would rather be stung in his mouth a thousand times by a thousand wasps than say anything.
Yet, Chikusa had said only a truth he could 'prove'. It didn't have to be one that was a good or nice truth. Mukuro was tempted to tell him of the genocides of old, where to find the bodies of civilizations long dead and forgotten. Of how hot hellfire was, how it could consume the whole world and turn it into ashes in less than a minute. He could reveal the answers to mysteries long since gone cold, but having those verified would take time.
So instead, leaning back on his elbows on Chikusa Kakimoto's bed, he smiled like his teeth were fangs.]
Your beloved foster parents are divorcing. Your foster mother has been emotionally unfaithful some time with one of the ministers of the clergy. He's leaving the faith as well to be with her.
[When Chikusa stares this time, it isn't the expectant patient stare of a priest willing to wait out a demon, but one of silent surprise. He'd been expecting something unpleasant- a demon couldn't be trusted to give anything else. Yet he'd thought it would be morbid, or revolting.]
[Not... this close to home.]
[As quickly as he can, even knowing it won't be much use, he schools his expression again with his lips thinned.]
...I see. [Certainly something easy to verify at any rate.] I'll find that out for myself, then. If it's true... you can visit me again.
[That shock was delicious, a prelude to how tantalizing the rest of Chikusa Kakimoto's would be. He hoped it would only drive home the point of how isolated and distant from others the priest was, if he had been unaware of such a large change in the lives of those he cared for the most.
Mukuro stood easily, sauntering past the priest and heading towards the doorway.]
Whenever you're ready, call for me and I will come for you.
[He gave him one last wink before disappearing and releasing him from the dream.]
[The dream and the simple darkness which had taken up the rest of his sleep seem so strange in the morning's light. It's not that they don't feel real so much as the light glaring past his blinds is... offensive, in a way. And for more than just making him squint and press the back of his hand to his eyes. Even in his groggy state as he makes his way to the bathroom and the coffeepot to wake himself up, the words press at the back of his mind.]
[He'd asked for something he could prove. This is by far the easiest thing that he could discern the truthfulness of. Still, for a while, Chikusa stares down at the phone with his fingers rubbing against the heat of his mug.]
[It takes half an hour for him to tap in the numbers to his foster parents' home.]
[The conversation after is...]
[Would it be better if it were a long conversation? If they talked for hours, shared emotions? That's what other people have done, Chikusa thinks. Yet the conversation between him and his foster mother only has any length to it because of the awkward pauses and conversational step arounds. What can he possibly say to it all?]
[Why didn't you tell me? They're words which leave him, at some point. The only answer is a faltering line about not wanting to interrupt his work.]
[He wonders.]
[After promising to pray for her, he spends another few minutes to make up his mind before calling the Church to call out of his duties. Personal problems. It's all that needs to be said, really. They're understanding, of course, and Chikusa finds himself, for the first time in ages, with a free day all to himself.]
[Perhaps because of the demon's casually invasive presence, its reassuring emptiness no longer feels like his own. That's the excuse he tells himself when he dresses in casual clothes that feel stranger than his well worn cassock. For the rest of the day, he simply wanders the city, taking the time now and then to occupy a cafe and stare at people. It doesn't help settle him much. If anything, he feels more detached than ever.]
[Some days he wonders if there was a mistake in that accident which left him without family. It's the only way to explain how, surrounded by people, he feels like he's a thousand miles away.]
[For three more days, he does his best to return to his mundane schedule. No one says anything to him, but he's starting to see the signs now. When people had stopped their gossiping at his approach before, he'd attributed it to the usual things: knowing he was never a gossip, his position in the church, embarrassment at such chatter in a holy place of all things. That's no longer true. He can see the way they glance at him out of the corner of his eyes when he moves to leave.]
[Chikusa tries not to think about it.]
[At the end of the third day, he finally gives in. He's had enough time to get over the shock, more than enough. After the usual nightly prayers, he pauses at his desk.]
[The only being he'll ever call out to is a divine one, not a demonic one. But... Writing should be suitable, shouldn't it? In careful plain script, he writes out the name: Mukuro]
[...It might not even work. He tells himself that as he turns in for the night, fingers thumbing at the cross around his neck.]
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badliifechoiice22016-01-08 10:36 am
no subject
[At least, if nothing else, it had certainly shut him up more than regular water would have done.]
[Coming to a stop, he rests his hands on the counter overlooking the little room. Never before has he had to deal with this kind of dream. What kind of protection does he have? It's hard to say, but treating it lightly can't be an option.]
Is a theological discussion all you came to have?
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[It was said dryly enough, the sting of holy water still memorable after a week's worth of time. Mukuro closed the sketch book decisively, getting up to stretch. It had been a while since he had tried to walk in a human's dreams, and while it wasn't as stifling as possessing one, it was still constraining. He wandered a bit closer, canting his head to the side as he smirked.]
Or have you been isolated for so long you can't remember how to have a proper conversation?
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[Just... on his own.]
[But it's fine, he reminds himself firmly. He's still living a good life. For now, he focuses on the demon on the other side of an imaginary counter space.]
I'm simply disbelieving that a demon wants to talk and nothing else.
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[Mukuro paused, leaning against the counter, smirk curling at the edge of his lips.]
Well, except perhaps me.
[How does it feel priest, he was curious to know, to have a demon as his only visitor? Though for now, he would tread carefully.
He let out a small chuckle at Chikusa's ( well-founded ) disbelief, propping his chin up with an upturned palm.]
Are there other things you are willing to offer me then, Chikusa Kakimoto?
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...Everyone has been concerned with Father Morgan's condition, and I can tend to myself.
[But it's not something he truly wants, no. Admitting such weakness to a demon, however, is asking for trouble.]
[As much as he wants to distance himself from the creature, Chikusa stays where he is on the other side of the counter. He's not going to be chased off in his own home, even if it is a shadow of such.]
The only thing I agreed to was to let you visit me. I have no desire to give you anything else.
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We both know that your mentor will make a full recovery. Though it is admirable of your clergy, knowing full and well that a demon has taken an interest in you, are trying to distance themselves further still from you. I hadn't thought it possible.
[He turned back to face Chikusa with an amused smirk, red eye glowing ominously.]
Do you really value your company so little? [As for 'no desire' well. That would get an almost fond chuckle out of him.] Liar.
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[They're lessons he's listened to and committed to heart for years. He knows this. Still, the words dig in like nails on the back of his neck. As the demon walks off, Chikusa finally lets himself close his eyes and compose himself. Hail Mary, full of grace... That's right. Slowly, his shoulders straighten out, and he opens his eyes again to meet that eerie stare.]
It doesn't matter if other humans distance themselves from me.
[He has someone who will never leave him.]
Can a demon of all creatures really go around calling others "liars" and believe to be taken seriously?
no subject
[Also known as the most difficult ones to get to. They would suffer in eternity with a damnable smile on their faces, and Mukuro could never bring himself to want to deal with them. Understanding them was bad enough, but comprehending them. Well.
He should have known really, since Chikusa Kakimoto seemed to find his peace rather quickly despite Mukuro's barbs, and with a light sigh, he turned away from him, heading into the bedroom. This place was far to small for his liking. Anything man-made typically was.]
Shouldn't that be taken more seriously than anyone else's word? A demon would know a liar better than anyone, wouldn't they?
no subject
I'm hardly deserving of a title like that.
[All he does is his duty, and he tries not to complain. Sometimes it's not completely successful, but that's just a sign of how young and inexperienced he is, isn't it?]
[As the demon starts to drift towards his room, Chikusa finally makes a move to follow after him with a slight frown. Dream this might be, and demons don't exactly care about privacy or personal space, but it doesn't mean he has to like it just snooping about there. Especially since, in comparison to the rest of his apartment, there's a little more there. Sketchbooks that have been filled to the brink are nestled inbetween holy texts. A small shelf has its own collection of psychology books, studying the mental health of a person. Near the door, even, a rarely touched small rack of varying hats.]
And a demon can't be relied on to tell the truth, so accusations from one such as yourself are inherently untrustworthy.
no subject
[As if he was unaware or unknowing of Chikusa following him, Mukuro entered in the bedroom casually. He ran his hands gently over the spines of each of the books, taking in the titles and how many sketchbooks there were.]
Because all men are known to be completely honest? [He turned to look back at Chikusa Kakimoto, mouth curled up in amusement, though his eyes were sharp.] Or are you just picking and choosing what to believe, like so many of the faithful? So quick to label us as beyond saving but forgetting we were angels once, too.
[He plucked out a sketchbook at random, settling down to sit on Chikusa's bed.]
You're rather talented.
no subject
[Following after him, he frowns and ignores the rest of the statement. It's becoming more and more obvious that humoring such a thing merely encourages the creature.]
Perhaps you were once angels. However, that does not get rid of the fact that, whenever your kind interact with humans, you attempt to drag them into sin. That is the difference between believing you, and believing a fallible human.
...And thank you, I suppose. [Even if he's wondering at the sincerity of the compliment.]
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[He let the book snap shut as he stood at Chikusa's retort, stepping close enough to him that he could reach out and touch him if he felt like. He resisted the urge for a moment, leaning forward with his lips quirked slightly at the corners.]
I merely help grant wishes that are held quietly in the human heart. Most were grateful to know that someone had heard their prayers and cared enough to respond. Are you sure it's not in human nature to 'sin' and be forgiven in endless cycles? What joy is there to be had to be alone and righteous?
[That being said, Mukuro only let out a small laugh, going to return the sketchbook to its rightful place, instead plucking out a textbook.]
You're welcome. Have you shown these to others?
no subject
...I hardly think I'm feared. [But he doesn't deny 'shunned'.] Can you really say what your kind does is out of "caring"?
[He's seen too many possessions to believe that. Staying where he is, he purses his lips at Mukuro's casual invasion of his books, but doesn't tell him off.]
No. I haven't.
[There's never truly been anyone to show them to, now that he's become an adult.]
no subject
[Which had been what had caught Mukuro's interest in the first place. While he did not fear or respect many other demons, there were some he has listened to with interest or followed out of boredom. To keep hearing the name Chikusa Kakimoto amongst them was a warning to many, but for Mukuro it had been an invitation.
That retort would only make Mukuro cluck his tongue in dismay as he shook his head.]
I can no more speak for all of demonkind than you could mankind. However, I have never had any who complained about my methods.
[And if they had, he wasn't above cutting their tongues out or making them bite it off themselves.
He met Chikusa's gaze at that, frowning slightly.]
A pity. Not even your beloved mentor?
no subject
My teacher is a busy man. I shouldn't bother him with trivial things like that.
Although it seems like you certainly have a lot of spare time if you're investigating the sketches done in a human's spare time.
no subject
[He put the textbook back in its place, taking the newest sketchbook out to turn back to the pages where Chikusa Kakimoto had sketched him, shrugging carelessly.]
It is as you say. You humans talk about eternity with no real understanding or comprehension to the word. I have lived a long, long time and it feels like any reason to continue is hard to come by.
[He paused as he sat back down on the bed, laying down on it so he could flip through the sketchpad, hair fanning out around him.]
It was no lie when I said you were a rare human, enough to pique my interest. It will be a pleasant way to pass the time, getting to know you.
[
Because you fascinate me Corvo, etc etc.]no subject
And what would you do instead of continuing on? If I wasn't here for you to bother, that is.
[It's something he's extremely curious about. Humans such as himself can't kill demons. That's not within the meager amount of power that they've been granted. Such strength is for the higher powers. All they can do is chase them out, really.]
[But could they die completely? Just waste away? He doubts he'll get an honest answer... but it's worth trying anyway, so long as the demon is talkative.]
no subject
I've already said far too much for. Allow me to visit you again tomorrow and I might tell you.
[Because as powerful as Mukuro was, it was easier to get a human's consent. If demons were able to possess and take over just by willpower alone, Mukuro could have armies at his feet and slaughter on a mass scale. Instead, they were still bound by arcane rules and laws. Just because they had been thrown out of heaven didn't mean they still didn't have a higher power to answer to.
Besides, if he was going to visit as often as he wanted to, Chikusa would still need to have some sleep or else the signs of a demon visiting him might become apparent far earlier than what Mukuro would like.]
no subject
I don't have much interest in things that "might" happen.
[It's a weak promise, after all, although he'll give credit where credit is due- at least it's honest in some way. After all, with "might", deciding not to do something is still perfectly within its bounds.]
no subject
[Mukuro canted his head to the side, lashes lowered.]
Should I tell you 'yes' then to get what I want?
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...Tell me something I can find out and prove is truthful on my own, and I'll put more stock into you telling the truth.
no subject
Yet, Chikusa had said only a truth he could 'prove'. It didn't have to be one that was a good or nice truth. Mukuro was tempted to tell him of the genocides of old, where to find the bodies of civilizations long dead and forgotten. Of how hot hellfire was, how it could consume the whole world and turn it into ashes in less than a minute. He could reveal the answers to mysteries long since gone cold, but having those verified would take time.
So instead, leaning back on his elbows on Chikusa Kakimoto's bed, he smiled like his teeth were fangs.]
Your beloved foster parents are divorcing. Your foster mother has been emotionally unfaithful some time with one of the ministers of the clergy. He's leaving the faith as well to be with her.
no subject
[When Chikusa stares this time, it isn't the expectant patient stare of a priest willing to wait out a demon, but one of silent surprise. He'd been expecting something unpleasant- a demon couldn't be trusted to give anything else. Yet he'd thought it would be morbid, or revolting.]
[Not... this close to home.]
[As quickly as he can, even knowing it won't be much use, he schools his expression again with his lips thinned.]
...I see. [Certainly something easy to verify at any rate.] I'll find that out for myself, then. If it's true... you can visit me again.
no subject
Mukuro stood easily, sauntering past the priest and heading towards the doorway.]
Whenever you're ready, call for me and I will come for you.
[He gave him one last wink before disappearing and releasing him from the dream.]
no subject
[The dream and the simple darkness which had taken up the rest of his sleep seem so strange in the morning's light. It's not that they don't feel real so much as the light glaring past his blinds is... offensive, in a way. And for more than just making him squint and press the back of his hand to his eyes. Even in his groggy state as he makes his way to the bathroom and the coffeepot to wake himself up, the words press at the back of his mind.]
[He'd asked for something he could prove. This is by far the easiest thing that he could discern the truthfulness of. Still, for a while, Chikusa stares down at the phone with his fingers rubbing against the heat of his mug.]
[It takes half an hour for him to tap in the numbers to his foster parents' home.]
[The conversation after is...]
[Would it be better if it were a long conversation? If they talked for hours, shared emotions? That's what other people have done, Chikusa thinks. Yet the conversation between him and his foster mother only has any length to it because of the awkward pauses and conversational step arounds. What can he possibly say to it all?]
[Why didn't you tell me? They're words which leave him, at some point. The only answer is a faltering line about not wanting to interrupt his work.]
[He wonders.]
[After promising to pray for her, he spends another few minutes to make up his mind before calling the Church to call out of his duties. Personal problems. It's all that needs to be said, really. They're understanding, of course, and Chikusa finds himself, for the first time in ages, with a free day all to himself.]
[Perhaps because of the demon's casually invasive presence, its reassuring emptiness no longer feels like his own. That's the excuse he tells himself when he dresses in casual clothes that feel stranger than his well worn cassock. For the rest of the day, he simply wanders the city, taking the time now and then to occupy a cafe and stare at people. It doesn't help settle him much. If anything, he feels more detached than ever.]
[Some days he wonders if there was a mistake in that accident which left him without family. It's the only way to explain how, surrounded by people, he feels like he's a thousand miles away.]
[For three more days, he does his best to return to his mundane schedule. No one says anything to him, but he's starting to see the signs now. When people had stopped their gossiping at his approach before, he'd attributed it to the usual things: knowing he was never a gossip, his position in the church, embarrassment at such chatter in a holy place of all things. That's no longer true. He can see the way they glance at him out of the corner of his eyes when he moves to leave.]
[Chikusa tries not to think about it.]
[At the end of the third day, he finally gives in. He's had enough time to get over the shock, more than enough. After the usual nightly prayers, he pauses at his desk.]
[The only being he'll ever call out to is a divine one, not a demonic one. But... Writing should be suitable, shouldn't it? In careful plain script, he writes out the name: Mukuro]
[...It might not even work. He tells himself that as he turns in for the night, fingers thumbing at the cross around his neck.]
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