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eternal sin 3
starts from here
[Chikusa POV]
In the morning's light, the dream and simple darkness of his sleep seem so strange. It's not that they don't feel real so much as... It's almost offensive, how it stings in his eyes. Yet the way it has him squint and press the back of his hand to his eyes isn't even the main point. Groggy, mind full of cotton, he makes his way to the bathroom and eventually his coffeepot to wake himself up. No matter how much he tries, however, 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 his 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...
Normal people, he thinks, have long conversations. He's seen it on television, read stories on the internet.... He's a priest, obviously he's had to sit through confessions for hours. Perhaps a long conversation would be better for the two of them. Yet as he talks with his foster mother, minutes upon minutes are lost to nothing more than awkward silence. At best- a disingenuous phrasing in itself- one or both of them uncomfortably step around the core of the problem.
What can he possibly say to any of it?
Why didn't you tell me? The words leave him at some point, and he wishes he could say that they're heavy with too many emotions to name. Yet Chikusa knows himself. No matter how hard he tries, they come out soft and calm and empty. Perhaps it's no surprise that the only answer his foster mother can provide him is a faltering line about not wanting to interrupt his duties to the church.
He wonders.
In the end, all he can manage to do is make a promise that he'll pray for her before hanging up. A peculiar hollowness begins to spread throughout him as he sits there. Outside of his apartment, early morning life is already starting for so many people. He can hear it all: the distant rumble of cars going over the street, televisions softly droning out the news, city pigeons cooing to one another. All of it is so lively.... And none of it can penetrate the stifling silence of his apartment. His gaze falls onto his hand and the phone cradled in his palm. How many times has he ever used it since he's first gotten it? Who has he used it for? A scarce amount of times to dutifully call his family- less for his work.
Never for anyone else.
The minutes drag on for an eternity before he makes up his mind and taps in the Church's number to call out of his duties for the day. Personal problems. It's all he needs to say, really. They're understanding, of course, they're always so very understanding, and Chikusa finds himself, for the first time in ages, with a free day all to himself.
Once upon a time, his apartment's empty simplicity had been reassuring. Only now, perhaps because of the demon's casually invasive presence, does that emptiness no longer feel like his own. That's the excuse he tells himself when he goes through his closet, searching not for his cassock but casual clothes. A light shirt, jeans- by no means do they make an uncomfortable outfit. That doesn't make them feel any less strange, far stranger than his well worn cassock. Certainly, as he steps into the city and lets his feet wander, they don't give him any idea of what to do. Now and then, he takes the time to step into whatever cafe comes across his path. No matter which one he steps into, no one pays him much mind. He's left alone with a cup of coffee and a muffin each time, allowed to people watch. It doesn't help him settle much. If anything, he feels more detached than ever.
Some days, he wonders if there was a mistake in the accident that left him alone. 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 with the church. He tries to pretend that nothing has changed. Yet it has. No one says anything to him, but his eyes are open. He can see the signs now. When people had stopped their gossiping at his approach before, he'd attributed it to various things: knowing he wasn't a gossip, his position in the Church, embarrassment as being caught chattering such things in a holy place. When he returns from his day off, however, he sees the way they glance at him from the corner of his eyes as he moves to leave.
Chikusa tries not to think about it...
At the end of the third day, he fails.
At the end of the third day, he finally gives in.
After his usual nightly prayers, he gets up from besides his bed and glances uncertainly over his shoulder at his desk. There, laying open across its surface, is his sketchbook.
...The only being he'll ever call out to is a divine on, not a demonic one. Yet... Writing should be suitable, shouldn't it? And he still has questions he wants to know about all the mystery surrounding demons. It's not as if he's going to sell his soul... And he knows not to fall for its tricks. Before Chikusa knows it, he's stopped before his desk, and his fingers hesitate along the curve of a pencil. Another few moments pass before he brings himself to pick it up... and, in careful plain script, he writes out a 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.
[Mukuro POV]
[What Mukuro liked best about humans was that they were all so inherently selfish and self-centered. It must have been a leftover relic from when they were hunters and gatherers, where they couldn't afford to care about anyone but themselves, with occasional exceptions for their mate or their children. In modern times, it meant that face to face interactions were being phased out, where people nowadays had more information at their fingertips but instead chose to waste their lives playing games aimed at relieving them from their money. It meant that the people who should be closest to each other were the furthest apart.
For the first day, Mukuro had enjoyed the sight of Chikusa Kakimoto's anguish, how uncomfortable he looked in casual clothes, and the dawning realization that perhaps Mukuro had been telling more than one truth.
After dogging his steps for that first day, he had been dying with anticipation, so had sought out other meager distractions. He had half-expected Chikusa Kakimoto to write a demon's truths as being too dangerous and hurtful to pursue and to swear off talking to him again. After all, he wouldn't be the first human to lie to a demon, nor would he be the last. Still, Mukuro had generously been prepared to give him a week to come to his senses before he barged in anyway, when the third day he felt the whisper of his name, thin and light as paper. Well. He would accept that calling for what it was.
This time in the dream, Mukuro would be working to prepare tea. It had been a tough past few days for the young priest, after all.]
"How do you like your tea?"
[It was an idle question, considering he had watched enough to know, but he would start out as innocuous as a smug faced demon could be.]
[His first thought as he wakes up to a strange room that's both his and isn't his is So Mukuro is his name.]
[His second thought, when he shuffles into the rest of his apartment and sees the demon in his kitchen, is Where did he get those ingredients?]
[He doesn't voice that inquiry. Instead, slowly, he makes his way to the counter to watch the demon seem so comfortable in this pantomime of his home.]
"...Lemon balm. Will drinking tea in a place that isn't real do anything?"
[Logic says 'no', after all.]
"Would it disappoint you if it didn't?"
[Even though this was a dream and his options were limitless, Mukuro used tea bags, pouring hot water from a kettle into two mugs. Even if Chikusa Kakimoto was well aware this wasn't real, it didn't mean that Mukuro should continue to press his luck with the young priest's comfort zone. Yet, anyway.
Padding over to the table, he set down one glass opposite of him, nestling down in one of the seats.]
"How did you like your truth?"
[It was asked idly, mockingly, Mukuro blowing the steam away from the mug, hands wrapped around it to soak up its warmth. Compared to the fires of hell, it was barely worth registering, but he liked it anyway. It was comforting, in its own way.]
"Considering you're the one making it, perhaps I would consider myself lucky if it did nothing."
[Still, he drifts over to the table anyway. Being on opposite sides of a table isn't any different than when they had been on opposite sides of a counter. It should be fine, if the demon continues such mundane encounters.]
[Even if his conversational matter is like barbs digging into the back of his hands.]
[Settling down into his seat, Chikusa hides the frown on his face by staring down into the mug of tea.]
"...It's better to find those sort of things out sooner than later."
[He's not going to let this creature enjoy his torment anymore than he can help it.]
"Not even if it soothed some of your inner turmoil?"
[Mukuro kept himself still except for the motion of his hands to bring the mug up to his lips, and his eyes, which tracked Chikusa Kakimoto's movements. It was surprising that he was so willing to sit closer to him, but he would not comment on it just in case it discouraged the behavior.
He let out a few soft chuckles at the understatement and vague answer.]
"I lied to you earlier. [It was said indifferently, his mismatched eyes canting up to catch Chikusa Kakimoto's dark ones.] Your teacher, while formidable, had many weaknesses. All humans do. It's the trademark of your species. So can you blame her for acting true to her nature?"
"It wouldn't. "
[A blunt dismissal. Demons don't offer that kind of thing. At least, not without strings attached. In a relatively minor way, Chikusa knows he's found that out for himself.]
[Yet here he is still, having allowed a demon back into his life, knowing fully the kind of lies he might be told and the harm that could be brought to him. Untangling its words are going to be a trial and a half, he can tell.]
[He meets that eyecatching stare, still not having taken a drink from his mug. More theological discussions. At least this, he's more prepared to deal with.]
"Humans should strive to be better then their sinful nature."
"So cold, my young priest."
[Still, Mukuro didn't sound put out by it, mouth curving up in an amused smirk.
He did let out a sigh at Chikusa Kakimoto's answer, taking a sip of his tea, making a face at its bitterness. He got up again to get the sugar bowl, settling back down in his seat to plop three sugar cubes carefully into his tea as he spoke.]
"For what end? For a reward none can be sure of? Is striving to be better worth counting if it's done for fear of punishment instead of a want to be better?"
"If you are besides yourself with concern over the reasoning for our actions, then your kind should probably stop being a part of the punishment. "
[Finally, with more than a little suspicion he makes no attempt to hide, Chikusa brings the mug up to his face. It's not to sip, but to sniff carefully. It smells like regular and reassuring tea... But that doesn't mean anything. A demon could have done anything to it while he was still in his room.]
"Punishment? Is that how you see it?"
[Mukuro canted his head to the side, amusement written all over his face.]
"Think about the life you lead, Chikusa Kakimoto. Many would label it as 'suffering'. Having to work for people who use you, hardly trust or like you, and would gladly be rid of you. Of having only an unanswering god for company."
[He chuckled lightly at the suspicion displayed all over the priest's face as he sniffed at the tea. You wish he would put his dick in it you rude shit.]
"I haven't done anything to it but brew it. "
[And returning to the earlier conversation:]
"Can you honestly say that you are happy with the life you lead now?"
[No.]
[The word doesn't leave his lips, but it's what Chikusa thinks as he avoids addressing those statements or answering that question by taking a tentative sip of the tea. Of course he's never really been happy. Desperately hopeful at best, when he'd been a child fervently believing in the God his mother told him of and striving for recognition from his teachers. Emptily content more often than not, not really living so much as he's been going through the motions of life.]
[Sleep. Eat. Work. Exorcise demons from the innocent, those who deserved another chance. Repeat it all over again the next day.]
[He knows it's hollow, now that it's been pointed out to him. But what can he do about it? How do you fill your life? All he has is the church, and even there...]
"It's a good life. I could be far worse off. [He sets the mug down.] I could be dead. I could be possessed by one of your kind. "
"Besides... You're speaking for quite a lot of people. "
[...Even if Chikusa doesn't doubt they feel that way.]
"You could also have better."
[There was the honey sweet lie that he loved telling mortals, because it was always true. They could always be happier, richer, more beautiful. They could live longer, could be free of disease, and could be loved if only they turned away from god. It was a simple thing to do, really, and it wasn't like it cost anything. Except in death.
Mukuro shrugged dutifully at Chikusa Kakimoto's weak retort, standing up to make another cup of tea.]
"As a demon, you should be aware I know of the ugliness, desires, and darkest wishes of the human heart. What do you think drew me to you in the first place?"
"Presumably, you want to corrupt a man of God. "
[That's what Chikusa's best bet is. Any reason that could come out of the demon's mouth- that he's interesting, that he's chosen in any way- would all be falsehoods. But that? To strike at the Church? He knows that's the most likely option.]
[That's how demons are. Remembering that helps steady himself.]
"But I know the kinds of tricks your kind pulls. I don't have any intention of falling to them."
[Even if it's true... Even if he could have better.]
[But he's seen this story play out before.]
"You have me misunderstood. I want to corrupt you, Chikusa Kakimoto. Your profession only sweetens the deal."
[It was said almost dismissively from the kitchen, Mukuro poking his head into the little opening of the counter.]
"Would you like more tea?"
[Said as easily if they were talking about the weather and not how Mukuro was currently planning to drag Chikusa into a sexy hell. As he let the tea steep, Mukuro chuckled lightly, leaning his hip idly against the counter.]
"I am not like most other demons."
"...Considering you just came out with saying you want to corrupt me, I can see that. "
[It's nothing new to him, but for it to just come out and be said like that...]
[Wondering at the blunt response- did he just want to make things more difficult for himself as a challenge?- Chikusa points at the mug still set in front of him.]
"I've barely touched this cup. I'm fine as I am."
[In the truth there was the lie, in the lie there was the truth. Demon 101 pretty much. Mukuro would tell the truth only so long as it suited him, and so long as it wasn't the whole and pure truth.]
"Were the other demons you dealt with not as clever? What a pity."
[He waved off the response easily enough, heading back to the table to drop more sugar cubes into his tea.]
"Though the ones you have met were all rather pathetic creatures."
[Someone might just be vain and tooting their own horn. Just a bit though.]
"Who knows. "
[They were, actually, but they weren't clever towards him. They hadn't hunted down his weakpoints like this. Chikusa wishes he were only still so lucky. As Mukuro comes back to the table, Chikusa leans back and away from him.]
"I'd remind you that such gratuitous pride is a sin, but I suppose that's the point, isn't it? [Slowly, he raises an eyebrow.] Do you really need all that sugar?"
"Playing dumb doesn't suit you, Chikusa Kakimoto."
[It was said dismissively as Mukuro ignored the way that the priest leaned away from him, as if that would save him if Mukuro decided to actually get serious. Luckily for the other man, possession wasn't what he was after. Well, not the normal use of the word at any rate.
That slight barb was met with soft chuckling, Mukuro flicking his gaze up to meet Chikusa's.]
"Is it gratuitous if it's the truth? [And, just to be a shit, he put one more sugar cube into the mug, stirring it leisurely.] You've never indulged yourself much, have you? Even your collection of books and hats are rather modest."
"It's certainly troublesome..."
[That is to say, Chikusa has never cared for people who've boasted about themselves. Perhaps it's general apathy, or his inability to connect with others, or simply his upbringing. Don't fall prey to the seven sins... Things like that.]
[It's that last one which certainly comes into show as he frowns at that next observation.]
"...I shouldn't have to explain that to you. Over indulgence isn't something encouraged."
"Then don't bother. Unless this is your version of fishing for compliments."
[It was said almost teasingly, the touch of mockery undoubtedly ruining the effect.
At Chikusa's second retort, Mukuro only shook his head sadly, making a slight 'tsk, tsk' noise.]
"Yet many of your faith do so easily and without second thought. Why should you hold yourself to standards? Especially when it brings you no joy?"
[As if he would ever. Chikusa sighs and drops the subject, because it's too tiresome to carry on. They're already on something that's even moreso, after all.]
"Just because others give into temptation doesn't mean I should, or that I will. Besides... [He glances suspiciously at Mukuro as he sips his tea.] Why should I accept life advice from a demon?"
"Can you really call what you're doing living? Isn't it more existing?"
[Mukuro only paused to take a long sip of his tea, expression completely self-satisfied. He rested his gaze on Chikusa Kakimoto's face, one eyebrow raised.]
"The truth is, if you weren't interested in what I had to say, you would never have agreed to these visits."
[Quietly, his fingers curl tighter around the porcelain handle. Existing. Not living. They're synonyms, but they mean two completely different things. He glances away, not wanting to let the demon win this particular round of conversatin, but not knowing how to defend himself, either.]
"...You said you might tell me about the alternatives a demon has to existing. That's the only reason I invited you. Nothing more."
"Are you going to tell me?"
[The lie was thick in the air, enough so that Mukuro could lean in and lap it up easier than he could the tea in front of him, but he would leave Chikusa Kakimoto his weak defense and come back to it another day. As it was now, the bond between them was tenuous, easily broken. While Mukuro could gain access to the young priest's dreams, it would take effort, time, and energy if he was not a wanted guest. And in the long run, he would be a wanted guest. He would just need to be patient for the time being, and feed Chikusa Kakimoto enough crumbs to keep him interested, until he knew the right questions to ask and Mukuro would not have to be stingy with the answers.
He leaned back in his chair with a small sigh, turning his gaze upwards.]
"There are many, and I don't feel like divulging much to a priest. I would hope you understand, because such knowledge can drive a man mad, much less one of faith."
[He turned his mismatched gaze to Chikusa's face, eyes narrowed and blazing.]
"Demons can become human. If you take one strong enough, who has a willing vessel, they can walk amongst humans."
[He made a face, waving a hand airily.]
"Not many of my kind can do so, and I have only done so a handful of times. It is rarely worth it. But for you..."
[He leaned forward, assessing, letting the sentence trail off and stall out.
'Rarely worth it' being a vast understatement. The vessel had to be tailor made for a demon or else they didn't last, a demon in a human body risked the chance of dying and having to spend centuries rebuilding their powers, or worse, being sent to heaven. Not to mention every sense was blunted, powers were practically nonexistent, and in a human body one was limited and fair game for other demons.
He took another sip of his tea, turning his gaze away to look out the window.]
"It is different from possession, where you have to fight a vessel for each second you breathe out of their stolen lungs. It is more symbiotic. Should I go on?"
[On one hand, it sounds like half an excuse to not divulge much information at all. "Knowledge that can drive a man mad" is a statement that relies heavily on the other party, after all.]
[Yet... He'll admit that his bias speaking. Years of training have told him how demons lie. By all means, perhaps this is still just more falsehoods meant to keep him satiated, but... He did say he'd be more open if he was given a truth. The demon has proven he can at this point.]
[It's... something to not outright dismiss.]
[Especially not at that intrigue revelation and the way those eyes seem to pierce through him. Chikusa listens intently, fascination livening up an otherwise dead stare, and he stays quiet to absorb the knowledge.]
[His fingers rub against the mug, a hint of his quiet thoughts.]
"...What could the vessel in that scenario possibly benefit from it all?"
[What could the demon, for that matter, but Chikusa will leave that for later.]
[Was that look of interest that of a priest who was learning of potentially more ways to slay demons or of someone who had never been truly fascinated by anything? It was a gamble, but Mukuro was willing to bet on the latter. All of his textbooks had been of the same sort, nothing amiss among them, not a stray book to portray anything fanciful. Chikusa Kakimoto seemed like a man who had only lived on one path and had blinded himself to everything else. Or perhaps, just detached himself from everything else, though in the end, did it really matter?
The question made Mukuro turn his gaze back to the priest, smirk sharp.]
"Interested in becoming a vessel, are you?"
[He waved a hand dismissively as soon as the question was asked, ready to answer since there was no harm in it.]
"I am sure you have seen much suffering in this lifetime. People who cannot move or speak or hear whether through accident or birth. Parents who have lost children far too young. Children who have lost family so early they can't recall their faces. Lovers who have been separated by war, tyranny, for no reason at all. "
[He paused, eyes hooded.]
"There are people who curse your god and would love to see him ripped from his throne and brought to his knees before them to answer for what he's done. There are those with nothing to lose, whose prayers will never be answered by anyone but a demon."
[He set his mug down on the table, idly tracing the rim of it with one long, gloved finger.]
"You ask what people have to gain from being a vessel to a demon, but what do you have to gain from being faithful to your god? At least you can be sure demons exist."
[Even as Mukuro's hand starts to move, Chikusa's mouth is open in indignation and he's shifted forward in his seat. If not for the lazy gesture cutting him off- well. Likely, he wouldn't have said anything unusual. Still, offense bristles through his lanky frame, not letting it rest as he settles back in his seat to listen.]
[Although whether it's from the affront he's taken at that mocking question, or because one of those scenarios hits a little too close to him, even Chikusa couldn't say. More likely than not, he doesn't want to think on the true answer.]
"I can be just as sure that God exists as much as you do. Your existence essentially proves it, in fact."
[My, my, wasn't that interesting? Mukuro leaned forward, elbows on the table as if he could somehow drink Chikusa Kakimoto's anger straight from him if he was close enough, eyes half lidded and intent. His voice hissed out almost like a snake's, whip quick and ceaseless.]
"None of us has seen him since we were cast out. For all we know, he has long since been killed by the devil and his corpse has been left to bleed out on his throne. All our existence proves is this: we are listening and yet your god is not."
[He canted his head to the side, hair spilling across his shoulder.]
"For all that you have seen, have you ever once witnessed a miracle?"
[Demons are liars whispers through him once again, powered by bitter anger that feels too hot to his usual lukewarm existence, and latched onto by desperate need. The kernel of uncertainty will come later, will remember the truth about his parents' divorce and unfaithfulness.... But not now.]
[For now, he curls both hands around his mug as though to restrain himself, frowning sharply.]
"It depends on your definition of a miracle."
"What is your definition? Feel free to be as elaborate as you wish."
[Mukuro leaned back in his chair, taking up his own mug again, eyes latched onto Chikusa Kakimoto's face.]
"A surprising and welcome event that is not explicable by natural or scientific laws and is therefore considered to be the work of a divine agency. "
[Did he just blandly quote the dictionary? Absolutely. It's more to see if he can annoy the demon, however, than a serious answer. That comes after he's had another sip of tea, glancing up to meet those eyes.]
"...But, for me, it's when humans accomplish something beyond their ability. Beyond their station. I witness those miracles every time I perform an exorcism."
[One of these days, Mukuro was going to hit Chikusa Kakimoto upside the head with a dictionary, presumably after he tore out the page that had the definition of 'smart ass' on it and chucked it at him repeatedly. Because who said demons had to be mature beings full of poise? No one.
He did scoff slightly, but otherwise kept quiet.
As for the personal definition of miracles, Mukuro didn't look too impressed.]
"You've never considered you were the exception and not the rule?"
"No. "
[And with that, he finishes his tea. The mug gets left on the counter, because, despite its appearances, it's not really his house. It's a fake. So it's not his problem if a mug is left out on a table. Pushing himself up, he raises an eyebrow down at the demon.]
"You like asking questions with obvious answers we both know, don't you?"
"What would it take for you to consider it?"
[Mukuro looked up at the priest from underneath his lashes, smirk wide and wicked.]
"My dear priest, I merely enjoy forcing you to look at what you've shied away from so long. If it means I have to be repetitive and blunt, I will do so without restraint. [It wasn't like Chikusa Kakimoto was the most difficult customer he had on his plate, but the one who held his attention the most at the moment.] Or would you prefer flirting?"
"What reason is there for me to consider it? I know that can't be true. I'm not the first priest to successfully exorcise a demon and I'm not the last. [Crossing his arms, unimpressed, he frowns.] I'm not going to believe in that kind of blatant lie. "
[And yes, he's well aware of Mukuro's opinion on what lies he will believe in. More theological arguments.]
[Then again, it's better than the alternative, and Chikusa puts on his most disinterested expression.]
"Why do you always return to that?"
"Not many have ever been able to do so as often as you have, or with demons as strong as you have driven out."
[Still, he would leave it for now if Chikusa Kakimoto was not going to budge ( for now ) on his thinking. Instead, he was far more interested in the other topic, chuckling softly as he finished off his tea.]
"It's amusing. Has no one ever done so with you before?"
[Most likely not, considering the priest's occupation, disposition, and reaction.
As much as he would like to tease him more, it would be time to leave soon. Even though the young priest seemed to be fine with treating this place with disregard, a bit biting considering how much effort Mukuro had put into it, he stood up to go wash out both of their cups.]
"I suppose the answer is obvious enough. I'll leave you to your rest, Chikusa Kakimoto."
[Chikusa POV]
[One of these days, he's going to try blessing water in one of those dreams, just to see if he can throw some in that demon's face again.]
[For now, however, just like the time before, he wakes up and rolls right back onto his face to escape the sun and chase after the conversations he remembers having. They're still crystal clear, thankfully, and he goes over them a few times in his head before deciding on something. Instead of immediately going about his usual routine, he goes to his shelf and takes out one of the empty sketchbooks. There, in detail, he writes down everything about the dream.]
[Especially the part about demons and humans.]
[After that, well... What more can he do? The schedule of his life awaits. This time, however, he.... tries. To change. He goes through the clothes in his closet and picks out those that don't fit or have holes in them to be donated later, finds new ones. He upgrades his old laptop that seems relieved to be put out of its misery. He goes for walks instead of hiding in his apartment.]
[It's not helping. There's still something he's not understanding. He does his best to remind himself that these things take time, and adds it into his prayers.]
[He'll be fine. He tries to tell himself this, and does his best not to think of the demon anymore. There's no reason for him to call out to that creature again. The first time, after all, was in exchange for his mentor. The second to learn the answer to a question.]
[...The apartment is always so empty when he returns to it.]
[It's been over a week since that last dream, nearing two in fact, when Chikusa finally pauses to stare at book he'd first written Mukuro's name in. The original page, he had made sure to cleanse and burn and be rid of it. Just in case. But...]
[Curiosity- and nothing else he tells himself, willing it to be true- has him try it again. A single written name in a blank page. Mukuro.]
[Chikusa POV]
In the morning's light, the dream and simple darkness of his sleep seem so strange. It's not that they don't feel real so much as... It's almost offensive, how it stings in his eyes. Yet the way it has him squint and press the back of his hand to his eyes isn't even the main point. Groggy, mind full of cotton, he makes his way to the bathroom and eventually his coffeepot to wake himself up. No matter how much he tries, however, 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 his 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...
Normal people, he thinks, have long conversations. He's seen it on television, read stories on the internet.... He's a priest, obviously he's had to sit through confessions for hours. Perhaps a long conversation would be better for the two of them. Yet as he talks with his foster mother, minutes upon minutes are lost to nothing more than awkward silence. At best- a disingenuous phrasing in itself- one or both of them uncomfortably step around the core of the problem.
What can he possibly say to any of it?
Why didn't you tell me? The words leave him at some point, and he wishes he could say that they're heavy with too many emotions to name. Yet Chikusa knows himself. No matter how hard he tries, they come out soft and calm and empty. Perhaps it's no surprise that the only answer his foster mother can provide him is a faltering line about not wanting to interrupt his duties to the church.
He wonders.
In the end, all he can manage to do is make a promise that he'll pray for her before hanging up. A peculiar hollowness begins to spread throughout him as he sits there. Outside of his apartment, early morning life is already starting for so many people. He can hear it all: the distant rumble of cars going over the street, televisions softly droning out the news, city pigeons cooing to one another. All of it is so lively.... And none of it can penetrate the stifling silence of his apartment. His gaze falls onto his hand and the phone cradled in his palm. How many times has he ever used it since he's first gotten it? Who has he used it for? A scarce amount of times to dutifully call his family- less for his work.
Never for anyone else.
The minutes drag on for an eternity before he makes up his mind and taps in the Church's number to call out of his duties for the day. Personal problems. It's all he needs to say, really. They're understanding, of course, they're always so very understanding, and Chikusa finds himself, for the first time in ages, with a free day all to himself.
Once upon a time, his apartment's empty simplicity had been reassuring. Only now, perhaps because of the demon's casually invasive presence, does that emptiness no longer feel like his own. That's the excuse he tells himself when he goes through his closet, searching not for his cassock but casual clothes. A light shirt, jeans- by no means do they make an uncomfortable outfit. That doesn't make them feel any less strange, far stranger than his well worn cassock. Certainly, as he steps into the city and lets his feet wander, they don't give him any idea of what to do. Now and then, he takes the time to step into whatever cafe comes across his path. No matter which one he steps into, no one pays him much mind. He's left alone with a cup of coffee and a muffin each time, allowed to people watch. It doesn't help him settle much. If anything, he feels more detached than ever.
Some days, he wonders if there was a mistake in the accident that left him alone. 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 with the church. He tries to pretend that nothing has changed. Yet it has. No one says anything to him, but his eyes are open. He can see the signs now. When people had stopped their gossiping at his approach before, he'd attributed it to various things: knowing he wasn't a gossip, his position in the Church, embarrassment as being caught chattering such things in a holy place. When he returns from his day off, however, he sees the way they glance at him from the corner of his eyes as he moves to leave.
Chikusa tries not to think about it...
At the end of the third day, he fails.
At the end of the third day, he finally gives in.
After his usual nightly prayers, he gets up from besides his bed and glances uncertainly over his shoulder at his desk. There, laying open across its surface, is his sketchbook.
...The only being he'll ever call out to is a divine on, not a demonic one. Yet... Writing should be suitable, shouldn't it? And he still has questions he wants to know about all the mystery surrounding demons. It's not as if he's going to sell his soul... And he knows not to fall for its tricks. Before Chikusa knows it, he's stopped before his desk, and his fingers hesitate along the curve of a pencil. Another few moments pass before he brings himself to pick it up... and, in careful plain script, he writes out a 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.
[Mukuro POV]
[What Mukuro liked best about humans was that they were all so inherently selfish and self-centered. It must have been a leftover relic from when they were hunters and gatherers, where they couldn't afford to care about anyone but themselves, with occasional exceptions for their mate or their children. In modern times, it meant that face to face interactions were being phased out, where people nowadays had more information at their fingertips but instead chose to waste their lives playing games aimed at relieving them from their money. It meant that the people who should be closest to each other were the furthest apart.
For the first day, Mukuro had enjoyed the sight of Chikusa Kakimoto's anguish, how uncomfortable he looked in casual clothes, and the dawning realization that perhaps Mukuro had been telling more than one truth.
After dogging his steps for that first day, he had been dying with anticipation, so had sought out other meager distractions. He had half-expected Chikusa Kakimoto to write a demon's truths as being too dangerous and hurtful to pursue and to swear off talking to him again. After all, he wouldn't be the first human to lie to a demon, nor would he be the last. Still, Mukuro had generously been prepared to give him a week to come to his senses before he barged in anyway, when the third day he felt the whisper of his name, thin and light as paper. Well. He would accept that calling for what it was.
This time in the dream, Mukuro would be working to prepare tea. It had been a tough past few days for the young priest, after all.]
"How do you like your tea?"
[It was an idle question, considering he had watched enough to know, but he would start out as innocuous as a smug faced demon could be.]
[His first thought as he wakes up to a strange room that's both his and isn't his is So Mukuro is his name.]
[His second thought, when he shuffles into the rest of his apartment and sees the demon in his kitchen, is Where did he get those ingredients?]
[He doesn't voice that inquiry. Instead, slowly, he makes his way to the counter to watch the demon seem so comfortable in this pantomime of his home.]
"...Lemon balm. Will drinking tea in a place that isn't real do anything?"
[Logic says 'no', after all.]
"Would it disappoint you if it didn't?"
[Even though this was a dream and his options were limitless, Mukuro used tea bags, pouring hot water from a kettle into two mugs. Even if Chikusa Kakimoto was well aware this wasn't real, it didn't mean that Mukuro should continue to press his luck with the young priest's comfort zone. Yet, anyway.
Padding over to the table, he set down one glass opposite of him, nestling down in one of the seats.]
"How did you like your truth?"
[It was asked idly, mockingly, Mukuro blowing the steam away from the mug, hands wrapped around it to soak up its warmth. Compared to the fires of hell, it was barely worth registering, but he liked it anyway. It was comforting, in its own way.]
"Considering you're the one making it, perhaps I would consider myself lucky if it did nothing."
[Still, he drifts over to the table anyway. Being on opposite sides of a table isn't any different than when they had been on opposite sides of a counter. It should be fine, if the demon continues such mundane encounters.]
[Even if his conversational matter is like barbs digging into the back of his hands.]
[Settling down into his seat, Chikusa hides the frown on his face by staring down into the mug of tea.]
"...It's better to find those sort of things out sooner than later."
[He's not going to let this creature enjoy his torment anymore than he can help it.]
"Not even if it soothed some of your inner turmoil?"
[Mukuro kept himself still except for the motion of his hands to bring the mug up to his lips, and his eyes, which tracked Chikusa Kakimoto's movements. It was surprising that he was so willing to sit closer to him, but he would not comment on it just in case it discouraged the behavior.
He let out a few soft chuckles at the understatement and vague answer.]
"I lied to you earlier. [It was said indifferently, his mismatched eyes canting up to catch Chikusa Kakimoto's dark ones.] Your teacher, while formidable, had many weaknesses. All humans do. It's the trademark of your species. So can you blame her for acting true to her nature?"
"It wouldn't. "
[A blunt dismissal. Demons don't offer that kind of thing. At least, not without strings attached. In a relatively minor way, Chikusa knows he's found that out for himself.]
[Yet here he is still, having allowed a demon back into his life, knowing fully the kind of lies he might be told and the harm that could be brought to him. Untangling its words are going to be a trial and a half, he can tell.]
[He meets that eyecatching stare, still not having taken a drink from his mug. More theological discussions. At least this, he's more prepared to deal with.]
"Humans should strive to be better then their sinful nature."
"So cold, my young priest."
[Still, Mukuro didn't sound put out by it, mouth curving up in an amused smirk.
He did let out a sigh at Chikusa Kakimoto's answer, taking a sip of his tea, making a face at its bitterness. He got up again to get the sugar bowl, settling back down in his seat to plop three sugar cubes carefully into his tea as he spoke.]
"For what end? For a reward none can be sure of? Is striving to be better worth counting if it's done for fear of punishment instead of a want to be better?"
"If you are besides yourself with concern over the reasoning for our actions, then your kind should probably stop being a part of the punishment. "
[Finally, with more than a little suspicion he makes no attempt to hide, Chikusa brings the mug up to his face. It's not to sip, but to sniff carefully. It smells like regular and reassuring tea... But that doesn't mean anything. A demon could have done anything to it while he was still in his room.]
"Punishment? Is that how you see it?"
[Mukuro canted his head to the side, amusement written all over his face.]
"Think about the life you lead, Chikusa Kakimoto. Many would label it as 'suffering'. Having to work for people who use you, hardly trust or like you, and would gladly be rid of you. Of having only an unanswering god for company."
[He chuckled lightly at the suspicion displayed all over the priest's face as he sniffed at the tea. You wish he would put his dick in it you rude shit.]
"I haven't done anything to it but brew it. "
[And returning to the earlier conversation:]
"Can you honestly say that you are happy with the life you lead now?"
[No.]
[The word doesn't leave his lips, but it's what Chikusa thinks as he avoids addressing those statements or answering that question by taking a tentative sip of the tea. Of course he's never really been happy. Desperately hopeful at best, when he'd been a child fervently believing in the God his mother told him of and striving for recognition from his teachers. Emptily content more often than not, not really living so much as he's been going through the motions of life.]
[Sleep. Eat. Work. Exorcise demons from the innocent, those who deserved another chance. Repeat it all over again the next day.]
[He knows it's hollow, now that it's been pointed out to him. But what can he do about it? How do you fill your life? All he has is the church, and even there...]
"It's a good life. I could be far worse off. [He sets the mug down.] I could be dead. I could be possessed by one of your kind. "
"Besides... You're speaking for quite a lot of people. "
[...Even if Chikusa doesn't doubt they feel that way.]
"You could also have better."
[There was the honey sweet lie that he loved telling mortals, because it was always true. They could always be happier, richer, more beautiful. They could live longer, could be free of disease, and could be loved if only they turned away from god. It was a simple thing to do, really, and it wasn't like it cost anything. Except in death.
Mukuro shrugged dutifully at Chikusa Kakimoto's weak retort, standing up to make another cup of tea.]
"As a demon, you should be aware I know of the ugliness, desires, and darkest wishes of the human heart. What do you think drew me to you in the first place?"
"Presumably, you want to corrupt a man of God. "
[That's what Chikusa's best bet is. Any reason that could come out of the demon's mouth- that he's interesting, that he's chosen in any way- would all be falsehoods. But that? To strike at the Church? He knows that's the most likely option.]
[That's how demons are. Remembering that helps steady himself.]
"But I know the kinds of tricks your kind pulls. I don't have any intention of falling to them."
[Even if it's true... Even if he could have better.]
[But he's seen this story play out before.]
"You have me misunderstood. I want to corrupt you, Chikusa Kakimoto. Your profession only sweetens the deal."
[It was said almost dismissively from the kitchen, Mukuro poking his head into the little opening of the counter.]
"Would you like more tea?"
[Said as easily if they were talking about the weather and not how Mukuro was currently planning to drag Chikusa into a sexy hell. As he let the tea steep, Mukuro chuckled lightly, leaning his hip idly against the counter.]
"I am not like most other demons."
"...Considering you just came out with saying you want to corrupt me, I can see that. "
[It's nothing new to him, but for it to just come out and be said like that...]
[Wondering at the blunt response- did he just want to make things more difficult for himself as a challenge?- Chikusa points at the mug still set in front of him.]
"I've barely touched this cup. I'm fine as I am."
[In the truth there was the lie, in the lie there was the truth. Demon 101 pretty much. Mukuro would tell the truth only so long as it suited him, and so long as it wasn't the whole and pure truth.]
"Were the other demons you dealt with not as clever? What a pity."
[He waved off the response easily enough, heading back to the table to drop more sugar cubes into his tea.]
"Though the ones you have met were all rather pathetic creatures."
[Someone might just be vain and tooting their own horn. Just a bit though.]
"Who knows. "
[They were, actually, but they weren't clever towards him. They hadn't hunted down his weakpoints like this. Chikusa wishes he were only still so lucky. As Mukuro comes back to the table, Chikusa leans back and away from him.]
"I'd remind you that such gratuitous pride is a sin, but I suppose that's the point, isn't it? [Slowly, he raises an eyebrow.] Do you really need all that sugar?"
"Playing dumb doesn't suit you, Chikusa Kakimoto."
[It was said dismissively as Mukuro ignored the way that the priest leaned away from him, as if that would save him if Mukuro decided to actually get serious. Luckily for the other man, possession wasn't what he was after. Well, not the normal use of the word at any rate.
That slight barb was met with soft chuckling, Mukuro flicking his gaze up to meet Chikusa's.]
"Is it gratuitous if it's the truth? [And, just to be a shit, he put one more sugar cube into the mug, stirring it leisurely.] You've never indulged yourself much, have you? Even your collection of books and hats are rather modest."
"It's certainly troublesome..."
[That is to say, Chikusa has never cared for people who've boasted about themselves. Perhaps it's general apathy, or his inability to connect with others, or simply his upbringing. Don't fall prey to the seven sins... Things like that.]
[It's that last one which certainly comes into show as he frowns at that next observation.]
"...I shouldn't have to explain that to you. Over indulgence isn't something encouraged."
"Then don't bother. Unless this is your version of fishing for compliments."
[It was said almost teasingly, the touch of mockery undoubtedly ruining the effect.
At Chikusa's second retort, Mukuro only shook his head sadly, making a slight 'tsk, tsk' noise.]
"Yet many of your faith do so easily and without second thought. Why should you hold yourself to standards? Especially when it brings you no joy?"
[As if he would ever. Chikusa sighs and drops the subject, because it's too tiresome to carry on. They're already on something that's even moreso, after all.]
"Just because others give into temptation doesn't mean I should, or that I will. Besides... [He glances suspiciously at Mukuro as he sips his tea.] Why should I accept life advice from a demon?"
"Can you really call what you're doing living? Isn't it more existing?"
[Mukuro only paused to take a long sip of his tea, expression completely self-satisfied. He rested his gaze on Chikusa Kakimoto's face, one eyebrow raised.]
"The truth is, if you weren't interested in what I had to say, you would never have agreed to these visits."
[Quietly, his fingers curl tighter around the porcelain handle. Existing. Not living. They're synonyms, but they mean two completely different things. He glances away, not wanting to let the demon win this particular round of conversatin, but not knowing how to defend himself, either.]
"...You said you might tell me about the alternatives a demon has to existing. That's the only reason I invited you. Nothing more."
"Are you going to tell me?"
[The lie was thick in the air, enough so that Mukuro could lean in and lap it up easier than he could the tea in front of him, but he would leave Chikusa Kakimoto his weak defense and come back to it another day. As it was now, the bond between them was tenuous, easily broken. While Mukuro could gain access to the young priest's dreams, it would take effort, time, and energy if he was not a wanted guest. And in the long run, he would be a wanted guest. He would just need to be patient for the time being, and feed Chikusa Kakimoto enough crumbs to keep him interested, until he knew the right questions to ask and Mukuro would not have to be stingy with the answers.
He leaned back in his chair with a small sigh, turning his gaze upwards.]
"There are many, and I don't feel like divulging much to a priest. I would hope you understand, because such knowledge can drive a man mad, much less one of faith."
[He turned his mismatched gaze to Chikusa's face, eyes narrowed and blazing.]
"Demons can become human. If you take one strong enough, who has a willing vessel, they can walk amongst humans."
[He made a face, waving a hand airily.]
"Not many of my kind can do so, and I have only done so a handful of times. It is rarely worth it. But for you..."
[He leaned forward, assessing, letting the sentence trail off and stall out.
'Rarely worth it' being a vast understatement. The vessel had to be tailor made for a demon or else they didn't last, a demon in a human body risked the chance of dying and having to spend centuries rebuilding their powers, or worse, being sent to heaven. Not to mention every sense was blunted, powers were practically nonexistent, and in a human body one was limited and fair game for other demons.
He took another sip of his tea, turning his gaze away to look out the window.]
"It is different from possession, where you have to fight a vessel for each second you breathe out of their stolen lungs. It is more symbiotic. Should I go on?"
[On one hand, it sounds like half an excuse to not divulge much information at all. "Knowledge that can drive a man mad" is a statement that relies heavily on the other party, after all.]
[Yet... He'll admit that his bias speaking. Years of training have told him how demons lie. By all means, perhaps this is still just more falsehoods meant to keep him satiated, but... He did say he'd be more open if he was given a truth. The demon has proven he can at this point.]
[It's... something to not outright dismiss.]
[Especially not at that intrigue revelation and the way those eyes seem to pierce through him. Chikusa listens intently, fascination livening up an otherwise dead stare, and he stays quiet to absorb the knowledge.]
[His fingers rub against the mug, a hint of his quiet thoughts.]
"...What could the vessel in that scenario possibly benefit from it all?"
[What could the demon, for that matter, but Chikusa will leave that for later.]
[Was that look of interest that of a priest who was learning of potentially more ways to slay demons or of someone who had never been truly fascinated by anything? It was a gamble, but Mukuro was willing to bet on the latter. All of his textbooks had been of the same sort, nothing amiss among them, not a stray book to portray anything fanciful. Chikusa Kakimoto seemed like a man who had only lived on one path and had blinded himself to everything else. Or perhaps, just detached himself from everything else, though in the end, did it really matter?
The question made Mukuro turn his gaze back to the priest, smirk sharp.]
"Interested in becoming a vessel, are you?"
[He waved a hand dismissively as soon as the question was asked, ready to answer since there was no harm in it.]
"I am sure you have seen much suffering in this lifetime. People who cannot move or speak or hear whether through accident or birth. Parents who have lost children far too young. Children who have lost family so early they can't recall their faces. Lovers who have been separated by war, tyranny, for no reason at all. "
[He paused, eyes hooded.]
"There are people who curse your god and would love to see him ripped from his throne and brought to his knees before them to answer for what he's done. There are those with nothing to lose, whose prayers will never be answered by anyone but a demon."
[He set his mug down on the table, idly tracing the rim of it with one long, gloved finger.]
"You ask what people have to gain from being a vessel to a demon, but what do you have to gain from being faithful to your god? At least you can be sure demons exist."
[Even as Mukuro's hand starts to move, Chikusa's mouth is open in indignation and he's shifted forward in his seat. If not for the lazy gesture cutting him off- well. Likely, he wouldn't have said anything unusual. Still, offense bristles through his lanky frame, not letting it rest as he settles back in his seat to listen.]
[Although whether it's from the affront he's taken at that mocking question, or because one of those scenarios hits a little too close to him, even Chikusa couldn't say. More likely than not, he doesn't want to think on the true answer.]
"I can be just as sure that God exists as much as you do. Your existence essentially proves it, in fact."
[My, my, wasn't that interesting? Mukuro leaned forward, elbows on the table as if he could somehow drink Chikusa Kakimoto's anger straight from him if he was close enough, eyes half lidded and intent. His voice hissed out almost like a snake's, whip quick and ceaseless.]
"None of us has seen him since we were cast out. For all we know, he has long since been killed by the devil and his corpse has been left to bleed out on his throne. All our existence proves is this: we are listening and yet your god is not."
[He canted his head to the side, hair spilling across his shoulder.]
"For all that you have seen, have you ever once witnessed a miracle?"
[Demons are liars whispers through him once again, powered by bitter anger that feels too hot to his usual lukewarm existence, and latched onto by desperate need. The kernel of uncertainty will come later, will remember the truth about his parents' divorce and unfaithfulness.... But not now.]
[For now, he curls both hands around his mug as though to restrain himself, frowning sharply.]
"It depends on your definition of a miracle."
"What is your definition? Feel free to be as elaborate as you wish."
[Mukuro leaned back in his chair, taking up his own mug again, eyes latched onto Chikusa Kakimoto's face.]
"A surprising and welcome event that is not explicable by natural or scientific laws and is therefore considered to be the work of a divine agency. "
[Did he just blandly quote the dictionary? Absolutely. It's more to see if he can annoy the demon, however, than a serious answer. That comes after he's had another sip of tea, glancing up to meet those eyes.]
"...But, for me, it's when humans accomplish something beyond their ability. Beyond their station. I witness those miracles every time I perform an exorcism."
[One of these days, Mukuro was going to hit Chikusa Kakimoto upside the head with a dictionary, presumably after he tore out the page that had the definition of 'smart ass' on it and chucked it at him repeatedly. Because who said demons had to be mature beings full of poise? No one.
He did scoff slightly, but otherwise kept quiet.
As for the personal definition of miracles, Mukuro didn't look too impressed.]
"You've never considered you were the exception and not the rule?"
"No. "
[And with that, he finishes his tea. The mug gets left on the counter, because, despite its appearances, it's not really his house. It's a fake. So it's not his problem if a mug is left out on a table. Pushing himself up, he raises an eyebrow down at the demon.]
"You like asking questions with obvious answers we both know, don't you?"
"What would it take for you to consider it?"
[Mukuro looked up at the priest from underneath his lashes, smirk wide and wicked.]
"My dear priest, I merely enjoy forcing you to look at what you've shied away from so long. If it means I have to be repetitive and blunt, I will do so without restraint. [It wasn't like Chikusa Kakimoto was the most difficult customer he had on his plate, but the one who held his attention the most at the moment.] Or would you prefer flirting?"
"What reason is there for me to consider it? I know that can't be true. I'm not the first priest to successfully exorcise a demon and I'm not the last. [Crossing his arms, unimpressed, he frowns.] I'm not going to believe in that kind of blatant lie. "
[And yes, he's well aware of Mukuro's opinion on what lies he will believe in. More theological arguments.]
[Then again, it's better than the alternative, and Chikusa puts on his most disinterested expression.]
"Why do you always return to that?"
"Not many have ever been able to do so as often as you have, or with demons as strong as you have driven out."
[Still, he would leave it for now if Chikusa Kakimoto was not going to budge ( for now ) on his thinking. Instead, he was far more interested in the other topic, chuckling softly as he finished off his tea.]
"It's amusing. Has no one ever done so with you before?"
[Most likely not, considering the priest's occupation, disposition, and reaction.
As much as he would like to tease him more, it would be time to leave soon. Even though the young priest seemed to be fine with treating this place with disregard, a bit biting considering how much effort Mukuro had put into it, he stood up to go wash out both of their cups.]
"I suppose the answer is obvious enough. I'll leave you to your rest, Chikusa Kakimoto."
[Chikusa POV]
[One of these days, he's going to try blessing water in one of those dreams, just to see if he can throw some in that demon's face again.]
[For now, however, just like the time before, he wakes up and rolls right back onto his face to escape the sun and chase after the conversations he remembers having. They're still crystal clear, thankfully, and he goes over them a few times in his head before deciding on something. Instead of immediately going about his usual routine, he goes to his shelf and takes out one of the empty sketchbooks. There, in detail, he writes down everything about the dream.]
[Especially the part about demons and humans.]
[After that, well... What more can he do? The schedule of his life awaits. This time, however, he.... tries. To change. He goes through the clothes in his closet and picks out those that don't fit or have holes in them to be donated later, finds new ones. He upgrades his old laptop that seems relieved to be put out of its misery. He goes for walks instead of hiding in his apartment.]
[It's not helping. There's still something he's not understanding. He does his best to remind himself that these things take time, and adds it into his prayers.]
[He'll be fine. He tries to tell himself this, and does his best not to think of the demon anymore. There's no reason for him to call out to that creature again. The first time, after all, was in exchange for his mentor. The second to learn the answer to a question.]
[...The apartment is always so empty when he returns to it.]
[It's been over a week since that last dream, nearing two in fact, when Chikusa finally pauses to stare at book he'd first written Mukuro's name in. The original page, he had made sure to cleanse and burn and be rid of it. Just in case. But...]
[Curiosity- and nothing else he tells himself, willing it to be true- has him try it again. A single written name in a blank page. Mukuro.]