Thanks to Hime-no-Umi, jenoker and A for the reviews. (A, dear, you flatter me;; (*´~`*) thank you very muchly times a billion, i wish i could reply.)

It's been a while, I'll let the chapter do the talking. Quick reminder this is all animeverse characterisation~

Beta'd by Swift-Star9. Thank you!
as for me... (because oh, how true) →Quality not guaranteed!

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"R... Rin?" said Yukio, hesitantly, as he stepped into the room.

When Yukio's eyes narrowed behind his glasses as if trying to see through deep fog, Rin felt the band against his wrist warm. It was not long before Yukio's eyes widened as he finally processed the situation.

"The flames," he breathed. "The flames are gone."

"Ding ding," said Rin. "Give the man a prize!"

As he stepped forward, Yukio frowned. But he said nothing more even after he closed the door and moved to place the box in his hands atop the nearby counter. Rin glanced down at the Kurikara and drew it again. The blade was shiny, certainly, especially considering it had been melted and then forged again, but even he could see the grain was not as fine as the old Kurikara had been and the pattern not as beautiful.

Now, it was a broken shadow. Nothing special.

Noticing Yukio's gaze, Rin sheathed it and tossed it onto the bed behind him. Languidly he rose to his feet, then flexed his toes and stretched his arms and spine.

"So?" asked Rin. "Where'd you go?"

"I went to buy supplies," came the reply. "More importantly, Rin—er, Ryu, you should still be resting—"

"I'm fine." He cast a lazy eye to the shadows under which the Kurikara lay. "Flames? Beh, as if I need that."

Yukio still had that frown on his face, however, the one that meant I'm smarter than you or I'm busy thinking so don't bother me. Rin didn't even bother trying to think about bothering him.

"You should still rest, Ryu," Yukio ended up saying once his thinking marathon was over. "You also need a new sword – the Kurikara can no longer be used as a weapon. I'll deal with it soon. School starts tomorrow, will you be ready?"

"Ready?" asked Rin. Though his grin was all straight teeth and too human due to the illusion, there was an edge of devilry within wrong maroon eyes. "Believe me, I'm beyond fucking ready."

In exchange for my assistance, the gamble is thus: If you are able to keep your activities undiscovered, of reanimation and all consequences following, you will win. If not, you will fail.

Upon the skies of Hell and the depths of Heaven, the word of Gehenna and the ceaseless cosmos, let this contract be bound.

Remember, Okumura Yukio. If you lose, your soul is mine.

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Azuer :K. N.

8. time and space

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"The name's Konokawa Ryu," said the boy at the front of the room. "Attending this here second semester from the far reaches of Hell."

The jagged grin on Konokawa Ryu's face did not slip, not once, and even his bow from the waist – despite its depth – was more mocking than sincere. He did not seem to mind the stares that came from having blonde hair or maroon eyes, hair decidedly natural and unbleached; rather, if the slouch, untucked shirt and loose tie were any indication, he embraced the delinquent's demeanour.

Konekomaru decided that, unless Konokawa Ryu had something incredible and endearing up his sleeve, he didn't really like him.

Konokawa tucked his hands into his pockets when he straightened again. "Please treat me kindly."

After the sensei pointed to the empty seat a few rows in front of him, and after Konokawa Ryu dropped into Okumura Rin's old spot as if he owned the place and proceeded to cross his legs atop the table...

As instructions were scolded for the feet to be put down, Konekomaru decided he didn't really like Konokawa Ryu after all.

Lunchtime.

"—I told'ja, I've been in Hell since I was born."

Konekomaru and Renzo had been sitting near the East Bridge; Ryuji had to do some Dragoon research so the two were alone. As Konokawa passed, neither minded, yet neither expected the newcomer to head toward them and wave off the crowd around him.

"Yo!" he called to them, the two loners, grinning. "I'm Konokawa Ryu, just transferred here. But you know me," he added, glancing down to Konekomaru.

Konekomaru hid the shiver playing about his spine. That gaze was far too piercing for a casual glance, by glassy eyes that shone amaranth outdoors and reflected too much light for someone so harsh. Of their class full of so many, Konokawa had to remember him?

"Shima Renzo," came the introduction in turn. Konekomaru felt a hand force down his shoulder and winced. "This's Miwa Konekomaru."

"That your name, huh?" murmured Konokawa, still staring. Konekomaru remembered how to breathe when the eyes turned up to look at Renzo instead. "Nice hair."

Renzo smiled. "Thanks. See, Koneko, someone thinks it's decent—"

The look in Renzo's eyes changed when their eyes met. Renzo blinked, hesitated, he broke off his words; Konekomaru couldn't thank him enough when the subject was changed.

"Konokawa, are you lost? Looking for anyone?" asked Renzo.

Konokawa lazily waved a hand, glanced to Konekomaru again strangely. "Call me Ryu. Really." A shrug. "Don't worry about it, don't think four-eyes turned up today."

"Four-eyes?"

"Yeah, eh... Okumura Yukio."

Renzo started. "Okumura was here. He disappeared after second period though, some emergency or another."

"Huh. Never told me."

A flash of light caught Konekomaru's attention, and he noticed Ryu aimlessly scratching the skin beneath a silver bracelet. Ryu caught his staring and raised an eyebrow.

"Like it?" he asked.

"...wearing jewellery is against school rules," said Konekomaru.

Ryu shrugged. "Whatever. Director gave it to me anyway. You guys free in the afternoon?"

"Eh?"

"We could hang out," said Ryu. "Pick up some chicks, you know."

To his discredit, Renzo actually looked hopeful. "Really?—"

"We have class," said Konekomaru.

"—Oh," said Renzo. "Can't. Sorry."

"...Right. Forgot you exorcists had cram school."

Before either Konekomaru or Renzo had the chance to articulate their surprise, Ryu's attention was directed away. Ryu hopped back, gave Renzo and Konekomaru a wave and a cheeky "Later!", then ran after a freshman with bleached hair walking past.

"Hey, you look like a cool guy!" they heard him say. "Shiratori, eh? Nice t'meet cha – the name's Konokawa Ryu."

And for a while, there was silence.

"...Shima," said Konekomaru.

" 'Sup?"

"Please don't talk to him anymore."

"Ryu? Why?"

Konekomaru shook his head silently. Konokawa Ryu reminded him of people unpleasant. Whenever Konekomaru closed his eyes, looked away, he heard Okumura Rin. A demon acting as demons should always be. (Except, Rin was never a delinquent, was he?)

Instead, Konekomaru changed the subject again.

"Okumura Rin..." he said. "Do you... do you hate him?"

The surprise in Renzo's expression wasn't difficult to see. "What question is that?"

"But he's the son of Satan...!"

"Yeah, but... he's gone 'cause he saved our lives." Renzo shrugged, but it was a shrug that didn't look convincing even to Konekomaru's muddled mind. "How can you hate a guy who's dead?"

Konekomaru didn't answer. He didn't know.

When Yukio reached the grand double doors, he did not spare any thought for how deep and rich the wood was stained, did not spare any thought for the intricate designs plated gold atop its surface, nor did he spare any thought for how there was no doorknob nor any keyhole. He merely knew that this was the gateway to Mephisto Pheles's office and, much as he did before, knocked twice.

Unlike last time, he did not wait for a reply before pushing the door – and to his surprise, it swung smoothly open.

When Yukio entered, Mephisto Pheles had been staring into a mirror and peering intently at the lighter patch atop his hair.

"So much like Shiro," Mephisto mused.

Yukio started; he hadn't been given a chance to speak, yet somehow he knew the words were directed at him. "What?"

"Every little second you seem to like reporting to me." Mephisto watched Yukio through the corners of narrow, slitted eyes. "Even at the cost of skipping classes, I see."

"It's lunchtime," said Yukio.

"Yet you never turned up to third period, did you? Such a bad boy~!"

Yukio did not deign the response with a reply – nor did he bother asking how Mephisto knew.

"There some issues I would like to discuss," he said.

"Discuss away~"

"I want to make sure you won't report us to the Vatican."

Mephisto had been preoccupied with his reflection; when he turned to Yukio, his words were genuinely(?) surprised. "Why say that? Reporting is no benefit to me, after all."

"One report is enough to ensure your victory."

"I may not like to lose, but even I wouldn't go that far."

"I want your word."

Was it Yukio's imagination when the curl atop Mephisto's head twitched?

"Very well. I shall add it to our terms," said Mephisto. "There was never a need to intervene."

The Vatican will find out eventually, and I will win; words unspoken but still very there.

"Secondly," began Yukio, but he was cut off when Mephisto waved a finger.

"Secondly is such a superfluous word, young Okumura," said Mephisto. "The word you seek is second. 'Secondly' is merely a troublesome conjugation too old-fashioned for these modern times, yes~?"

When Yukio opened his mouth he was about to refute. Then he remembered where he was and what he was trying to do, muffled his pride, and spoke again.

"Second," he said, "is it possible to prolong the illusion on the fake Kurikara in Suguro Ryuji's possession?"

"Prolong the illusion?" repeated Mephisto. "There's no need to do that. You may simply switch the real Kurikara for the fake. The soul has been extracted from the blade and now resides in Rin's body."

"It still needs to be retrieved. You said it would be a week until the illusion wanes."

"And...?"

"It has been more than a week."

"Then I miscalculated. You did not give me very long to prepare the illusion, after all."

"Can you definitively extend it to at least the end of October?"

"What will I get in return?"

Yukio froze. Mephisto finally looked away from the mirror, tucked his hands atop the surface of his desk and leant forward.

"I told you," said Mephisto. "There are no more favours."

There were many things Yukio could have said in response. They rose in his mind at once, simultaneously, a reversed ripple at which his conscious mind lay at the core – yet somehow, somehow, Yukio saw the most correct(—advantageous) answer leap from the waves and he somehow knew that, if he used it, everything would be fine.

Yukio had been aware of this ability few times before, had suppressed it, had taken advantage of it... had been (adequately) concerned.

This was the first time he welcomed the sensation.

"You said you would give us assistance," came the fluid reply.

"Simply until successful reanimation."

"Yet that is not what is stated in the contract. Could it not be argued that this switching of the swords is directly linked to successful reanimation? You ask what you will receive in return – I believe you'll find this far more entertaining."

There was a strange expression on Mephisto's face, all unreadable sparks within green eyes and the corners of his mouth turned down not in a frown but still some determinedly unpleasant way.

"Only due to my poor phrasing, then, it shall be done," said Mephisto, reluctance manifesting in caustic voice and breath of frostbite. "The contract will be amended. Let this be the last addendum."

A scroll was manifested within gloved fingers, then placed atop the table. It unfurled by some unseen force; Yukio recognised the delicate silver script immediately.

Mephisto rolled a sleeve, removed the opposing glove, flexed fingers to call forth inhuman claws and then calmly held his exposed wrist over the thick paper and slashed down the veins. Some magical force stopped the blood before it could be absorbed; it hovered, defying gravity, a simple orb. From it, Yukio saw a ball of mercury so dark blue it should have been black, glimmering from within with the light of countless stars. It emanated power, a timeless aureole infinitely beyond human comprehension.

Yukio knew what was expected of him, having done it before. But as he scrabbled in his pocket for a blade, he did not expect the hand Mephisto held out towards him. The sleeve was still rolled up, but there was no cut—it had already healed over.

"Let me," said Mephisto.

Yukio offered his hand, letting the demon grab it and slash his wrist the same. Their bloods intermingled within the stars before becoming silver, and flattened into fine silver threads that were etched into the contract as their will. Words, characters, creation.

The Fiend will not create, nor be the direct instigator of, any reports to the Vatican that lead to the Fiend's imminent victory.

Assistance extended by the Fiend extend only to reanimation and immediate integration of the Subject.

There was an empty space, and still a small puddle or silver. As the words were spoken, the final line was done.

"I, Okumura Yukio, agree."

Mephisto licked the bloody residue off his fingers—something in Yukio's gut clenched uncomfortably—then clapped his hands. The scroll bound itself, then disappeared. He unrolled his sleeve and replaced his glove, watching Yukio in a distinctly unsettling manner.

"Really, Okumura, you must eat more fruit. You taste so bitter~" said Mephisto. "Are you done?"

Done? Not quite done. There were countless concerns Yukio still had; so many things he still wanted to ask. Though Mephisto's tone was playful, he may have asked a question, the farewell was there and the conversation over.

Yukio remembered a blond girl and her poignant gaze. He remembered how she accepted his lies without further thought; how thinking of the lies clawed at the scab in his soul. He found himself staying, overlooking both Rin's strange behaviour and Mephisto's true goals – there was still something he had to say.

"Why did you decide on a funeral?" he asked.

An eyebrow was raised. "Are you implying there was a better option? An option more effective... more capable of acting as an explanation for your absence?"

"But the repercussions on other people—" Shiemi...

"There are no more questions. They begin to draw their own conclusions—which by far is the most powerful tool within one's arsenal. Whilst, I will admit I only ran simulations based on one month at most for their grief to be overcome, isn't it so much better – so much more convenient that it hasn't?"

"It takes more than a month to—"

"For how long was Fujimoto Shiro's death mourned?"

That—

Click. An electric kettle's call, its water brought to boil. Mephisto snapped his fingers. In a poof of pink smoke, a small cup of instant ramen appeared in the centre of the desk. As he added boiling water, he did not notice how Yukio stiffened; or if he did, he made no notice of it.

"After all," continued Mephisto, idly, as he replaced the lid and left the noodles to stew, "Okumura Rin is the son of Satan. In keeping him hidden beneath the Vatican's radar, the breaking of the Kurikara is by far the most useful turn of events that could have occurred. Now that he's able to hide beneath grief and under the guise of death—witnessed death, how lucky you are! You should be thankful for such an opportunity~!"

Pause; only the cruel objective.

"...Is that what you truly think?"

Nothing of those who cared.

The demon sitting across from Yukio—the demon who knew the capacity of human emotion but held no true understanding—blinked cluelessly and asked, "Is there more?" There must have been some answer in Yukio's eyes, for then he added; "You really didn't think things could be the way they once were, did you?"

And that was the truth. How that was the truth! To have his brother alive, revived, yet ensuring his existence would not be discovered by the Vatican...?

No matter how much the demon helped Yukio's cause, it was with a sinking heart that he realised it was a gamble he could never, ever win. Rin may have been revived, but he could never be the same. It was more than a name suspended in the past, lost to time, but a person.

Left with no solutions, Okumura Yukio only had questions, and any questions he'd previously thought necessary were dwarfed by the silliest of them all.

"Who are you, Mephisto Pheles?"

The demon who could never be human simply smirked and winked in reply.

"Merely a demon that plays with space and time."

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I really hope I don't have to mention this, but (just to be safe) Rin's characterisation is very relevant to the story.

Please review. :)