Angra Mainyu
Arc One - Arrival - Part One
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The ruby moon shone through the subtle hint of shaded clouds, casting a bloodied light upon the softly sleeping world of humans, none suspecting the meaning behind the colour. There was one, though, that realised the significance of the crimson moon. One that was no longer human, but still visited and dwelled within their world. That one was one of the Shinigami, ones who had lost their lives yet remained in a realm where they could return and help the living that they had once been. And that one had every reason to hate the sight of red upon anything, most especially the moon.
Stepping softly across the street before a simple flower shoppe, Hisoka watched with cold eyes as the crimson tinge deepened on the lunar surface, a deep hatred flaring to life in his jade eyes. He knew too well what was the cause of the unnatural shade to the night's light. He could feel it in the air, a sense that tore into his very soul, and he could feel it in his body, the marks of his killer bringing a faint burning with that bastard's power surging somewhere. The pain of that cursed fire went on without his notice or attempt to stop it, long experience having shown the young Shinigami that there was nothing he could do to ease the pain that was the spell. The spell that clung to him, even in death and the half-life it had carried with it. The curse that had been given to him by that silver-haired murderer, the one that took so much pleasure in his pain.
"Muraki," he whispered, no touch of warm longing in his voice. Only the bitter sound of his own hatred touched the tones, years of suffering from that night of torture afflicting the coldly detached nature of the speaker. Though somewhere, hidden within that hurt anger, also sat and odd curiosity; the longing to know what had brought to devil to the moon's light was beginning to burn in him. With the red lunar light, Hisoka already suspected the good doctor to have a hand, if not orchestration rights, in the evil that had taken to Tokyo. The level of that involvement was what he wanted to know, and he would track down the feeling of that fiery curse later to see. The touch was not Muraki's, which calmed him enough to set the task until later; still, the feel of another touched by that dark man kept his curiosity alive, and began to fuel a drive in him to find that person and see what was going on.
First, though, he had the matters of the Summoner's Division to take care of, namely four new Shinigami to find. They were reported to live in the Koneko ni Sume ne, the flower shoppe to which he stood before. The hour being late, he was not surprised to see the business closed for the evening, metal grating lowered to keep intruder's out. That, though, hardly phased him.
Pale emerald eyes glanced up and down the street, confirming the odd sense of desolation with its lack of life. That was exactly what he needed; no witnesses meant that he could use the gifts that death had allowed. Looking up towards the roof, Hisoka gathered his will about him as his feet lifted from the ground. The art of flying, a most basic Shinigami technique, had grown to be a second nature about him. He could use it with ease, though hardly freely; it was dictated that no witnesses could see it, lest the presence of the Shinigami be exposed and their mission in jeopardy from it.
Barely a minute later, having taken leisure in the trip up the building, his feet touched gently on the roof. The first step of his 'intrusion' was simply completed, the next one just as simple. With another gathering of will, the teen simple disappeared from sight, another token ability of the Shinigami put into play. Lost from the eyes of others, he made his way to the door that would invariably lead inside, a hand reaching out to test the handle.
"Locked," he murmured, stepping back. Without the patience or insubstantial nature to simply go through the door, Hisoka found himself facing a slight problem. Which, in the fashion of his impatience, he remedied with a simple kick. With a crunch, and a notation that Tatsumi would not be pleased if he noted a broken door as travel expenses in his daily log, Hisoka dealt with that problem.
With a slight wince to the noise he had made, he again turned visible as he started down the stairs. His stealthy entrances would need improvement, but he had done what was required and the noise would hopefully be enough to wake the residents - such that he would not have to, of course. As for the danger in waking what was reportedly a group of assassins, he could simply shrug it off. There was little that they could do to end a life that had already ended, after all.
--
The moon's red glow illuminated a form sitting at a window staring up at the lunar satellite, the glow making his hair an even more vivid shade of red, his skin a shade paler than usual. Fujimiya Ran sat in his room just staring up at the night sky, a light frown on his lips as he noticed the blood moon, usually a sign of the coming apocalypse, or some sort of destruction, some sources said. His violet eyes narrowed as he stared up into the night sky, unable to sleep. And unable to dispel the feeling that the moon looking like that was familiar in some way. How, he did not know, for he was unaware that it was the same moon that had shown overhead, half shrouded in clouds from the rain that had fallen that night. His attention had been more fixed on the vision of his younger sister being struck down mercilessly by a car.
His gaze turned from the moon to stare at the earring he held in his hand, watching the pale illumination make the gold bit of jewellery seem to glow eerily. It had been three days since the fateful mission in the ocean shrine where all chaos had broken lose, lives lost, portals to other realms opened. Not that he remembered that.
Especially not the part of him being one of the ones to lose his life when they failed to stop the ritual from calling forth a being to Sakura's form. The Summoner's Division had kept those memories carefully from their minds so they would be told properly by one of their own Shinigami just what they were.
But nothing could hold back the instinctive feelings that coursed through him that something had gone terribly wrong. And he didn't know what. And that unnerved him. Nor could anything truly keep him from feeling the empty coldness inside, a chill that just iced over to freezing every time he looked at this earring. His sister was still missing. A part of him was telling him that he had been close to finding her but no knowledge of her location came to mind.
There was once a time where he was able to draw strength almost just by looking at the gold earring his sister had so dearly wanted him to buy her, the metallic dangle earring reminding him of his determination to avenge his family and keep his sister safe. Now when he held it in his palm he was just filled with a sense of failure... and he couldn't pinpoint why.
Sighing he closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against the windowpane, tightening his hand into a fist hard enough so the sharp back of the earring bit deep into his palm. So caught up in his own thoughts he didn't even feel the slight prick of pain, nor did he notice as the puncture healed almost instantaneously even before blood could rise to the surface.
Bringing his head up at the commotion Hisoka was making, he moved his hands back to his earlobe to affix the dangle earring back on its temporary owner. Frowning lightly he got up from where he sat, moving to the door to see if he heard any other sounds. It certainly didn't sound like any commotion the others of Weiß made at any hour of night, even when Youji came home drunk from one of his dates. Making his way to the door, he glanced out to see if anyone else had heard it and come to investigate, or knew what was going on.
--
The Tokyo skyline was glittering against the backdrop of the night sky, tall towers reaching to the dark heavens. The shining lights of the buildings seeming to melt against the bright stars, illuminating the blanket of blackness overhead sporadically. Every so often a few lights would flicker off as the residents of the buildings went home or went to sleep, falling to dreams, sleeping away as the beauty of the night fell over them. The red tinted moon hung high overhead, casting its pale light down to set the city into an ethereal glow. A city of millions, reduced to nothing but dark and light once night fell.
It would all look so much better crushed and burning with the fires of hell, lighting the sky with an inferno of the hell from whence it came.
A light cruel smirk curved onto soft lips at that thought and the one staring down out at the city through the windowpane turned away, dark eyes unblinking staring at the darkness in the room but able to see perfectly. How could it not? This was similar to its own realm, at least in the darkness. It lacked the nightmarish quality of the realm it called home. For now at least. The deep sapphire eyes were almost hypnotic, seeming to those that looked deep to hold all of the stars of creation in the bright depths. They drew a person in deeper, past the bright shine into the darkest depths. A void that was frighteningly empty and devoid of everything but black. The form moved across the room slowly, the tight flowing black garment it wore showing off nimble curves, dark waves of hair cascading down a nearly bare back to compliment pale smooth skin. A slow grace hardly of this world was in every single step. Though the demonic realm being was in a female form, it hardly considered itself female. This was just the host body it had been provided and it would do quite nicely.
The epitome of youthful female beauty, host to an age old being of unimaginable cruelty and power, an utter lack of humanity and morality making it easily one of the most evil creatures. Very little to lose, everything to gain, no connections to anyone. Just pure destructive evil.
Moving fluidly across the room, the being from another realm lit a few candles, the glow flickering on delicate features. Sinking down to sit on the floor in the lotus position, folding long slender legs under itself, soft lips parted to recite arcane phrases. Similar to the language that had been recited to call it forth to this dimension, though a more complex form of the language barely ever spoken in this world. It was said softly under one's breath in light meditation, the voice soft and sweet and having a musical quality to it. Though the words it spoke had an ancient feel, a loftiness that was only heard in nightmares and legends.
What exactly the being was meditating on none could be sure but dark eyes stayed wide open, staring at the closed doorway to the room as the candles flickered, the temperature in the room seeming to rise. This is what it did when needing to think. It knew that the members of Schwarz were in this building somewhere but it hardly gave them mind. It had no desire to go mingle, even with those who had brought it forth to this realm and provided it with a host body.
It actually imagined that they were all still adjusting to their immortal forms. Words paused at that, lips forming a tight smirk before continuing on. Fools. Immortality brought forth things no human could ever be prepared for, had costs none could foresee, but it had been what they wanted. So as the portal to the unknown had stayed open, it had bled off some of its own cursed immortality to the four. The same influx of power had been used to teleport the five beings from the shrine before it crumbled and toppled into the sea, unable to stay up from the chaos the demon brought forth to Tomoe Sakura's body had inflicted. As they left, the portal snapped shut before any other demons could come forth.
Three days since then. Three days in this realm and it hadn't been able to destroy a single thing. It was starting to get antsy... but unfortunately, immortality hadn't been all the four former mortals that called them Schwarz had asked for. That had been a side benefit with opening the hell realm and providing the being a host body. So long as it remained in this host, a very nearly perfect vessel to hold it with its withheld power and agile limbs, it was under contract to serve Schwarz to a degree.
A wicked smile broke over the sweet innocent features of Fujimiya Aya, hardly seeming fitting but the juxtaposition was that much more unnerving.
It would do. It would do nicely so long as it seemed Schwarz goals matched its own.
--
The light of the ruby moon, unnoticed by the youngest of the white assassins, cast its glow upon the sleeping form. Still recovering, or so he claimed, from the trial of the ritual, the youth had taken to sleep early in the evening, further validating his decision with a claim to classes in the morning. In truth, though, he had retreated to sleep to gain perhaps a glimpse at something that had been haunting his mind for a few days. The image of a building, perhaps, surrounded by ever-blooming cherry blossoms regardless of the late summer feel to the air. The feeling that manifested itself in dreams, speaking to him that something had changed that fateful night, when those of Este had tempted forth the months of hell. All of it simply suggestions, clearing only in dreams that he found while in sleep, dreams he had been searching again for.
Until the sharp snap of a wooden frame breaking interrupted that search, the hard thud of a door slamming open with it further pulling him from the image just as he had found it. There had been cherry blossoms and a warm spring breeze only a moment before, but as the distinct sound of an unsubtle intruder broke the serenity of dreaming, it all faded as though it had never been. The dreamer, suddenly deprived of the comforting touch of the season of birth, found himself laying alone in a cold bed, every last trace of the delicate scent of blossoms gone once more.
Staring blankly at the plain ceiling to his room in Koneko, Omi tried to recall what the dream had been about, knowing faintly that he had seen or dreamt something so similar to it within the last few days. There was a faint hope that his search for the dream would provide him and answer if he could just close a hand around it. However, the answer to that curiosity was evasive and danced clear from his grasp. Later, perhaps, it would tease close enough to be snared, but it took joy in eluding him in the game of cat and mouse for the moment. As it had for the past three nights.
Sighing softly at the loss of that comprehension, the honey-haired youth pulled his mind back to deciphering what had awakened him from the serene dream. Someone sharp and crashing, yet unlike any expected noises that might have arisen in the late night hours. Had it been Ken tripping on a stair, there would have been a few expectant curses following up; Youji would have continued with another crashing of noise were he returning drunk. Whereas Ran would never once have made that noise in the first place. Which left himself, a clear dud in the case that he had been asleep early in his bed, or an intruder.
The thought of someone forcibly entering the building was enough to snap Omi fully awake, the last dreamy traces of the elusive cherry blossom scene fading from his attention as he slipped his legs over the edge of his bed and into the warm slippers always left there. Stealthy steps were taken towards his door, the handle softly touched and twisted open with barely a sound to accompany it.
Slowly, he peered out of his room, sapphire eyes adjusted to the darkness and able to see faint shadows therein. Nothing jumped at his vision, though, aside from another familiar form nearby. "Ran-kun?" he asked cautiously, keeping most of his form safely within his room in case his eyes had deceived him. "Was that... you?"
Standing just at his doorway, Ran stood still and listened carefully for the source of the sound. He held his sheathed katana in hand, but as the rest of Weiß knew it would only take him a half-second to unsheathe it and have it arcing towards dangerous intents. Not that it would do much good against a form that was already dead, but he hardly knew that.
He turned his head slightly at the familiar voice of his youngest teammate, peering at the boy mostly hidden by shadows, his own eyes adjusting easily to the darkness. He raised an eyebrow at the boy calling him by his true name instead of Aya but dismissed it for now since he remembered the boy was one of the few members of Weiß who knew his true name. Even if he didn't go by it currently. He couldn't, not until the true Aya was able to reclaim it. That thought brought a cold shiver over his form and he tried to shake it off since he still couldn't place it. "Iie, it wasn't me," he replied softly. With the way Omi's hair was sleep tousled and he could see around the line of his form loose pyjamas, the boy obviously having risen from bed. So the question of it was him would just be a waste of words. "Must have come from the roof..."
The faint hint of Ran's questioning of his words earned Omi his own silent reprimand as he realised what he had addressed the other by. While he had been privileged to that information, by extenuating circumstances, he'd told himself never to speak the name that so clearly made the other uncomfortable. It took no fool to realise that the habit of being called Aya was linked to the redhead's sister, and that was a sensitive enough subject as it stood. Having once endured the anger that could arise from pushing that matter too far, the youth had promised himself never to bring it up again. As he had just...
Shaking his head softly, saving those thoughts for later, Omi looked across the hall to where Ran stood, his eyes too slowly adjusting to the shadows. While he had been trained to work in the night, the young assassin had a preference for light when it came to being able to see. He had equipment, such as his goggles, designed to let him see in the dark, but without their enhancing effect, he was having slight difficulty making out the form of the other.
"Who would be up there at this hour," he murmured, a frown touching his lips. Almost unconsciously he reached to his jacket, hanging behind his door, where a small sheath of darts was contained. Deftly he pulled two free, keeping them within his grasp as he made a move to step silently into the hall.
And promptly stubbed his foot on the slightly upraised moulding that separated the carpet of his room from the flooring of the hall. On any normal day, he would have seen and stepped over the little obstruction; however, the particular piece of floor trim had been recently put in to replace the worn one that had been there since the days he could remember. As such, he had yet to grow accustomed to it to simply step over it without a pause when trying to be stealthy; thusly, it was only to be expected that he would catch his foot on it.
Barely restraining a yelp from the clumsy mistake, Omi glared at the dark ground. However, in the shadows, he could not quite pick out the offending piece of carpentry from the blackness around it. If only he had some light, he would have been able to see it and step over it, instead of tripping and possibly alerting his presence to their intruder.
And, as quickly as the illuminatory thought occurred to him, the lights of the halls and surrounding rooms suddenly flicked on, flooding the area with a sudden, unexpected brightness.
Blinking and raising a hand to guard against the sudden light, Omi was about to wonder how the hell all the lights had managed to go on without a person near each switch when a voice from the stairs to the roof clearly spat out a curse.
--
As expected, his 'stealthy' entrance had not gone unnoticed, given the sudden flaring attention of what felt like two minds. Prepared as he best could be to face the four new Shinigami, Hisoka was not drawn into their surprise, and thus their minds; instead his own mental presence hung on the outside of theirs, drawn away as distantly as possible to keep himself isolated. It was his self-defence, an inability to control certain aspects of his empathy requiring him to want to be alone. That want kept his mind away from others, allowing in only the strong impulses, flashes of passionate emotion, that others had. It kept him in control and sane, that was all he required of it.
Stepping cautiously down each stair, he kept jade eyes alert for the signs of the others, his night vision sufficient for the task at hand. The best approach would be the soft and simple one, as difficult as it was to manage with his patience. To crash down the stairs into the waiting arms of assassins would be akin to intentionally shaking up a live hornet's nest: Just plain stupid. While others, on occasion Tsuzuki being one of them, might have that lack of intelligence, Hisoka prided himself on his ability to keep out of those blundering mistakes. Forget that he had been involved in his own fair share in the past.
Readying to say something to alert the others of his presence, before they took a cautious offensive against their intruder, Hisoka paused. The sharp touch of another's pain flared in his mind, though softer than most he ever expected; instinctively he drew out the handgun he always carried, pain in the past being a warning for trouble. However, following the essence of pain came a quick sort of anticipation he had not known, as though the will of wish of the other being thought.. and then somehow put into play.
And then, without expectation, every light in the hall and up the stairs flicked on, clearly illuminating him while flooding his vision with the burning blind white. His free hand automatically rose to cover his eyes, the fingers of his other hand tightening around the weapon he held in case this were an intelligent attempt to disarm him. Meanwhile, as his attention wandered to the surprise of what had just happened, he spoke the first words that came to mind, opening the path between 'ambassador' of the Summoner's Division and the new Shinigami with that first touch of diplomatic speak.
"Damnit, turn those fucking lights off!"
Footnotes:
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