Thanks to anyone who reviewed/favorite/alerted! I can only wish the best for YYH, as I do not own it…

"So I'm coming along, why?"

"You're not."

"Then you told me to follow you, because?"

"Because I'm going to have you meet someone."

"And this someone is important, why?"

"She'll take you off my hands and make sure you're entertained for the remainder of the time I'm gone."

"Entertained, how?"

"Whatever she wants to do."

"So she's a stripper?"

"No, but I bet she knows more than her fair share."

"So I'm going to be entertained again, how?"

"You'll see."

"Isn't this the exact conversation we had that night I took you to meet Lisa?"

D paused and shivered, unwanted memories floating through her head. "Up until two seconds ago when you asked that question, yes, yes it was. Now, moving on."

Deacon was silent for most of the way there past that point. They walked along the sidewalks of the crowded town, quiet as the rest of those around them energetically talked about one thing or another. Japan was a small country, this city even smaller, but it was amazing how, at the same time, it was both extraordinarily different and extremely similar. Deacon followed D, gathering in all of these differences and similarities as she navigated the streets with ease, as if she'd been following them her whole life. But Deacon knew that wasn't true, she had been raised in America, in a small town at the foothills of the Appalachia Mountains. It always amazed him how she could memorize things so easily, having only walked someplace once. He inwardly sighed in slight annoyance; the girl always had been, and probably always would be, too smart for her own good.

Flashback

In a small, one story wood house in the foothills of the Appalachia Mountains there laid a girl. She lay in the living room, it was small and cramped, but one got the feeling of coziness had they been there for a number of days. This girl had spent a number of days in the home, having moved there five years ago when her mother could first afford a house.

Demmy sighed as she leaned back in the lounge chair. The old fashioned floral print was enough to kill her eyes if she stared at it for too long, so she shut them, snuggling deeper into the giant mass of softness.

"You do know that if the sword doesn't come soon, I'm going to disappear forever, right?" Demmy peeked one ocean blue eye open at the small girl who stood at the end of the chair. She appeared to be eight years old, with long, straight black hair that went to her belly, and glowing, bright red eyes. Not everyone in the world could see her, just the spiritually aware, as Demmy had come to find.

"Don't worry, it'll be here by the end of the day." She shut the eye and continued to relax, almost drifting into sleep. It was warm, enough to make her sweat had she been wearing any real clothes. Blue jean short shorts only covered what needed to be, showing her long naturally tanned legs. She wore a bikini top for the coverage of her chest, as she needed nothing else on such a blazing hot day. Even with the ceiling fan on, a thin layer of sweat would've developed on her skin by now if it wasn't for the glass of iced lemonade she had on the small corner table to her right. No lights in the house were on, but a few of the back windows were open to let in the cool August breeze.

"It doesn't matter when it's here, if you're not ready for the procedure when it gets here." The girl insisted, her shark like teeth showing their razor deadliness as she talked. Demmy grumbled in annoyance. "Are you even sure it's going to work?" Demmy sat up and glared at the girl who had been constantly interrupting her rest for the past several weeks.

"Yes, I'm positive. Now if we could end this discussion here, I'd be happy to work out all the remaining details of the procedure in my head, as I usually do. However, if we continue this conversation, I must insist that we talk about a topic we haven't already exhausted." Demmy snapped at the pale girl. The girl wasn't fazed at all, and didn't even blink at the harshness in the teen's tone. She instead fell silent, disappearing then reappearing in front of the small couch. Sitting on it, tucked her knees up to her chest and wrapped her small arms around them.

"So this boy, he was asking questions about Spirits? Did he catch onto anything?" Her voice almost sounded innocent. Demmy leaned back into the chair of almighty comfy-ness, not even looking at her while responding.

"Yes and no, I don't think he's figured anything out yet. He stared at my wrist though; right at the place you grabbed it that morning. Acted like it was the most fascinating thing ever. Care to explain that?"

"It would be very fascinating. To just about anybody, actually. It's not every day a spirit of a dead demon teams up with a spiritually aware human. When I touch you, just like when other ghosts touch you, it'll leave a mark. You can't see it, only people who are trained to find it can. Since my hand wrapped around your wrist pretty tightly, it must've left a darker mark than I would've hoped. Demons leave shades of black I think, and human spirits leave blue. If he saw it, then he knows you know more than you're letting on. He knows we have contact." The girl always spoke in a serious tone, and this time was no different.

"Can he do anything about it?" Demmy asked; some level of curiosity in her usual bored tone.

"He can't destroy me, but he can bring the judges." Demmy snapped her fingers in thought.

"Ah, those, um, people? The one's that send you, um, that place!" Demmy couldn't see it as her eyes were currently closed, but the girl raised an eyebrow at the teen's lack of literate words.

"The messengers from the Spirit World that can send me to hell? Yes, those people."

"That'd be bad." The girl nodded as she agreed, looking down past her boney knees to her tiny toes.

"Yes, it would. Someone's pulling into the driveway." Demmy looked up and over, turning to look at where the girl last was. Sighing in slight annoyance at the girl's disappearance, she swung her legs off the chair, pushing herself out of it.

"Must be the mail man." Demmy mumbled to herself as she maneuvered past all the furniture in the room. The doorbell rang just as she touched the handle. Not thinking clearly, she turned the handle and opened the door, staring in shock at the person there for a split second before her eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"I thought we had an agreement to meet at lunch today." Deacon scowled at her as he shoved his hands in his pockets.

"I don't remember making any such appointment. How the hell'd you get my address?" She scowled right back, leaning against the doorknob and placing a hand on her hip. His jaw locked as he glared down the defiant girl.

"I have contacts. Just like you." Demmy raised an eyebrow.

"Me? And just who might I be in contact with?"

"Does a dead demon ring a bell?"

"I didn't know dead demons have a fascination with bells. Perhaps the sweet jingling calms their ferocious nature. But," She cocked her head to the side with a smirk, "that's if demons exist anyway. I didn't know you liked to play around with superstition, you seemed much too serious for fairy tales." Seeing the conversation lost, Deacon, jerked his head past her into the house.

"You goin' to let me in?"

"No."

"Why not?" He grit. D shrugged.

"Maybe because I don't want you inside?" The question was phrased as a statement.

"So you have something in there you don't want seen?" He perked a brow, smirking as he caught what he thought was a hint.

"By the likes of you, yes. Now leave. You have no need to be here." She snapped at him, making him cross his arms and glare. An engine roared as gravel shifted to reveal a brown mailman car coming down the back-hill road.

"Expecting something?" Deacon asked, stepping in her way as she tried to go meet the mailman.

"Yes. Now move." She shoved past him, shooting him a glare as she walked down the steps of the porch into her yard. She turned her back on him as the mailman lifted up a slender parcel and a clipboard. Deacon took the second to glance inside her house for any sign of Spirits. A demonic aura laced the room, but there was no spiritual being within sight. He mentally cursed the American Spirit World Laws that bound him, forbidding him from stepping within a house without permission from the occupant or a Spirit World Judge. He snapped his attention back to D as she hopped up the three steps, parcel held tightly in one hand.

"What's that for?" He asked as she moved past him into her house.

"My sister." She kicked the door shut behind her.

It wasn't a lie, but only Demmy knew that at the time.

Present

"And here we are." D motioned to a door. He had been led inside an apartment complex, up several flights of stairs, and down many hallways to reach this door.

Whoever behind it better be important.

He shoved his hands in his pockets as D rasped on the door. A seconds wait happened before a loud crash and the shattering of glass met their ears. A loud string of curses followed shortly after. Finally, the door cracked open to reveal a young-looking woman, with long black hair and dark black eyes.

"What do ya want at this hour, D?" She asked, not even glancing at Deacon as she leaned against the door. Anybody could tell she was in the middle of a terrible hangover.

"I was hoping you could accommodate my… friend here to some of the joints around town." D motioned to Deacon. The woman scanned him over, nodding to herself before grinning.

"I'm broke." She waved off the offer.

"That's never stopped you before." D prompted, causing the woman to howl in laughter.

"Alright, alright. What's your name?" She looked to Deacon with a cat-like grin.

"This is Deacon," D motioned to said guy, "Deacon, this is Atsuko, Yuusuke's mother."

Jaw drop did nothing to explain Deacon's reaction. This woman- YOUNG woman- was that guy's mother?! What the hell?!

"Deacon, is it?" Atsuko asked. D nodded as the lady took the too-shocked-for-words male by the bicep, bringing him into her apartment. "Accommodate I shall." Deacon had no time for protest before Atsuko shut the door and D walked off, smirking to herself.

Revenge was oh so sweet.

"Marquise." D called as she stepped into her apartment, heading for her room. With a poof, he appeared behind her.

"What'cha need, mistress?"

"Get me on the list to the Glamoure Masquerade Ball." She walked into her room, going over to her closet in search for something to wear to the high-class event.

"Already did." Seeing his master nod, he watched as her expression grew annoyed at the fact she had no dresses for that level of high-class event in her closet. Marquise grinned, having planned ahead for this part, too. "Shiruque has your dress at our den." D paused, blinking in shock at the Orea. He had never done something of that matter before.

"What does it look like?" She asked, hesitant. The creature was known for being a pervert, after all.

"No idea. She's the one who picked it out and everything." He motioned for the door. "Better go and get it now. It's a long drive to Tokyo after all, and the Ball's tonight."

"Why would she do something like that?" D asked, confused. Sure, Oreas formed bonds very quickly (hence why she didn't question the fact that they had already moved in together), but buying her a dress? They were also very stingy when it came to money.

"Hell if I know! Stop asking all these damn questions and get to Leore already!" He snapped, irritated she was so nosy. Why couldn't she just accept a nice thing when it happened to her?

D frowned, but nonetheless grabbed a jacket and headed for her motorcycle.

Special thanks to Death101-Fox Version, Anon., OMFGZ, Moldy Strawberry, jackinafreakinbox, Kiyoshi Kozue, and Alice for reviewing! Thank you for supporting me throughout this uneven updating schedule! You are all very wonderful people :D