Chapter Text
A shiver shook through Yukio as he slumped down next to a particularly lone tree atop a snow blanketed hill. The snow had stopped its relentless decent and left a vacuum of trepidation in its wake. Apprehension stung the wind as Yukio grabbed his hand tightly.
The shaking wouldn’t stop.
Biting his dry lips hard enough to draw blood, Yukio focused on the dry taste of cold iron in his mouth. Yet, despite his attempts at distraction, the world continued to burn a blindingly vivid shade.
Moonlight fell like gentle ocean waves over the snow coloured lands, yet it all seemed much too bright. Even the stars that had appeared in the sky seemed to glimmer with distain.
Yukio grimaced, taking the gun that he always carried with him out. It was too heavy, the weight of the gun, the eyes of the moon, and the judgement of the stars.
The gun’s blackness pulled Yukio back into his thoughts, like a shadowy demon that an innocent child might have thought lurked under their bed.
The stars seemed to laugh at Yukio.
-
Yukio had been 7 when Shiro Fujimoto had brought Yukio to True Cross for the first time; it was not too long after Yukio had found out some vague details about the nature of his birth from his foster father. Generally, Yukio would say the initial experience was rather liberating and pleasant. A playground where he wasn’t dubbed as insane.
Firstly, Yukio had been eager to see the world of exorcists. With a child’s eyes, Yukio devoured the new sights and smells of True Cross. Unbeknownst to Yukio, Fujimoto had gone out of his way to ensure that no other exorcists were aware of Yukio’s arrival, other than Mephisto.
The flamboyant demon greeted Yukio, with all his theatrics, and teased him like an older brother. Yukio had sensed Mephisto’s power, and that his motives were muddled, and had been wary of him, much to Mephisto’s amusement. Fujimoto, however, was not amused and shooed Mephisto away after Mephisto had given the pair what he had come to give.
The given item in question being a privet area where Yukio could train in peace and solitude.
So, Yukio had learned the basics of self-defence and exorcism, isolated from the rest of The Order. Yukio had decided to focus on firearms, the memory of Fujimoto using them to rescue Yukio from the alleyway still fresh in his mind. At first, the noises and aggression of the weapon had frightened Yukio, but Fujimoto had anticipated as much and placed Yukio against demons. The fear and urgency taught Yukio to get over his fears quickly.
Fujimoto and Yukio’s relationship altered. Even when Yukio wasn’t training, he found that the soft and fond smiles that he’d received when younger tapered away in favour of Rin. Yukio brushed off his envy. He was not a child anymore, and Fujimoto looked at him like a young man. That was what Yukio was, wasn’t it?
No child learned to adjust to the whip and bang of a gun, make decisions for the greater good, and shoulder the burden of what his murky future would hold. Yukio should be proud of his short childhood, he told himself. The glint in his eyes no longer held the wonder of a fawn; or so Yukio would like to think.
Yukio thought he had adjusted to his new rhythm in life. Living as a normal school-boy by day and training with his foster father by night. Although Yukio still had many questions about himself, he was happy with the progress he was making and the power he was gaining.
However, when Yukio was 9, he learned that up until then, he had still been sheltered. Once again, Yukio was unsure of who he was.
On Yukio’s 9th birthday, Rin and he, well mostly Rin, had made a cake for Fujimoto.
“Why are you giving me a cake for your birthday?” Fujimoto sighed and patted Rin’s head. “It’s supposed to be the other way around.”
Rin crossed his arms rebelliously. “What, are you not going to take it then!”
“Brother wanted to give it to you as a thank you, for taking us in and taking care of us,” Yukio clarified, pushing up his glasses. “Of course, I give you my thanks as well… for raising and taking care of us.” The words were thick on Yukio’s tongue as Fujimoto read the underlining meaning of ‘thanks for not killing us when we were born.’
“Yeah thanks and that stuff!” Rin put the cake on the table beside Fujimoto. “Although you don’t always make the best dad, old man!”
“How do you know our real dad is any better?” A sardonic sweet smile graced Yukio’s lips, but his tone was light and teasing. Irony was a playful mistress that Yukio enjoyed lately.
Rin shrugged. “I don’t really care to know. It doesn’t matter to me. Doesn’t make our old man any better though!”
Fujimoto smiled warmly. “Twins are such a handful. Thank you, Rin, Yukio.”
A bitter taste filled Yukio’s mouth as Fujimoto smiled kindly at Rin. If Rin knew who their real father was, maybe then he would understand Yukio’s persistence about the nature of their birth. Or maybe, Rin still wouldn’t care. Yukio had always been more interested in knowing their origins. Then again, Rin wasn’t the one born with the sight of monsters decorating his vision. Rin wasn’t the one who had each aspect of his youth taken away from him on fates agenda. Yukio thought it was narrow minded. There was a world of uncovered truths, and it all brushed over Rin’s head.
However, Rin was the one born to inherit Satan’s flames.
Did Fujimoto enjoy playing house with Rin?
“Uh,” Rin blushed at the praise, “this was supposed to be a thank you, for you. Anyways, I gotta go. To do, um, homework! Yeah! Catch you later!” Rin bolted out the door, running in a direction clearly away from his room, where his unfinished homework was.
Yukio shook his head and sighed. “He’s probably going off to play soccer again. I know he wants to make friends with those kids, but they always end up fighting and then Rin gets hurt. Did he think we would believe he was going to do homework? He’s not a good liar.”
Fujimoto gestured for Yukio to take the seat beside him and Yukio complied. “Then you’ll patch him up, don’t you?”
Yukio grinned, looking out into to where in particular. Despite his thoughts towards Rin, Yukio enjoyed his smile just as much as it made his heart hurt. He wanted to protect him just as much as he wanted to surpass his innate strength of character. “I get to apply your teachings and practices even in this side of my life.”
“About the ‘other side’ of your life, if that’s what you’re calling it now,” Fujimoto put a hand on Yukio’s shoulders. Underneath his hand, Fujimoto felt muscle that had not been there before and muscle that one would not expect a child of only 9 years of have. In two short years, Yukio had become stronger.
But Fujimoto wondered if it would be enough.
“Yes, is something wrong?” Yukio’s eyes grew dimmer, alert and cautious. “I thought I was progressing well.”
“You are,” Fujimoto responded, “that’s what this is about. I think you’re ready to start going to actual classes, with other training students. They will be older than you, but you are skilled enough to hold your own ground better than any of them now.”
Yukio’s eyes widened in alarm and he stood up from his chair, his seat moving back audibly at the force. “I thought I wasn’t allowed to work with other exorcists because if they found out that the son of Satan is alive, it would put Rin and I in danger. Aren’t we supposed to be a secret!?”
Fujimoto’s face grew grave. “You were supposed to be a secret, but now you are not. The higher-ups found out about the training area, and about you. Mephisto told them that you are harmless and didn’t inherit the flames. They will allow you to train properly, but under watch.”
Heart beating quicker, Yukio controlled his breathing. Control, control instincts, override it with logic. “You said I am not a secret anymore, but what of Rin? Is he still a secret?”
Dropping his voice low, Fujimoto met Yukio’s eyes, “No, the Vatican is aware of Rin too, but they also know his power is sealed. They said that they would decide his fate when and if his power ever awakens.”
Sitting back down, Yukio ran a hand through his hair. “Alright, I understand. I am surprised about their decision, honestly, but I have to accept it.” Yukio wouldn’t let them hurt Rin if it ever came to that. That was part of the reason Yukio was training so hard, after all.
“The Vatican is more complicated than it seems and their agenda is much more nuanced. If the day comes when Rin awakens, I need you and Mephisto to look out for him and make sure he doesn’t end up dead.” Fujimoto stood. “Tomorrow, you will be introduced to the world of exorcists formally. Remember, some do not agree with the Vatican and may try to kill you when I am not around.”
“Is Rin safe?” Yukio bit his thumb. “The people who don’t like us, will they come after him?”
“He’s well protected here,” Fujimoto stretched. “Mephisto’s keeping an eye on here too. Anyways, tomorrow morning, we leave at 5, be ready.”
-
The next morning Yukio awoke, groggy, but silent as to not wake Rin. It smelled of fresh morning and cold air and Yukio took in the scent, which stirred up a sense of monotony. On auto-polite, Yukio prepared for the day ahead.
Arriving at True Cross, a beautiful building in Yukio’s eyes, he was greeted by a dog that he knew to be Mephisto. Puttering around Fujimoto’s leg, the latter of which shook his leg with a curt ‘buzz off,’ the dog grinned, somehow, and turned into a man.
“Yukio, my baby baby brother, today you start school with the big kiddos. As such,” the man tapped his hat and a schedule appeared, “here is your timetable. Behave, alright. Now, as the principal, I must be off.” Mephisto stalked around Yukio in circles as he spoke, his arms moving theatrically. As soon as he had come, he was off much the same.
Yukio remembered the schedule of his first year. He was in his father’s homeroom, which was to be expected, and had an assortment of classes which he had been studying in privet with his father for the past two years.
Fujimoto entered the class first, telling Yukio to advertise as little as possible about their relation and warning him once more to keep his eyes open for danger.
Entering the class himself, Yukio felt the eyes on him. Most were surprised, some irritated, and a few comical, at the young man’s entrance. While Yukio had bulk and a hardness to his face that may be uncharacteristic for someone of his age, he was still short and was untouched by marks of grown.
In fact, a particularly gruff woman had stood up and scolded the system for allowing a child to partake in the class. Yukio brushed her off with a smile, telling her that he was qualified, but the thought was appreciated. The class looked apprehensive, but Fujimoto continued his lecture and introduction, not once looking at Yukio.
For the next for months, class progressed fine. Yukio didn’t get along too well with his classmates, always professional and keeping a wall between them with a smile. They shouldn’t get to know him, Yukio thought. They were too different from him; their lives so unlike his, and their age a barrier. Quickly, Yukio had risen above his class, added by the years of prior knowledge he had gained.
However, Yukio had noticed the unwanted attention of his teachers and staff that he passed by in the halls. They regarded Yukio with distain and with a sense of malice. Biting his lip as they passed by, Yukio knew that they knew what he was. It mattered not to Yukio. They weren’t his trusted allies just because they were his teachers. Nobody here was. That was how life was for Yukio.
Only his father, Yukio felt he could trust.
On one day, Yukio overheard his teacher talking.
“That boy is talented, it is a pity he is the devil’s spawn.”
“Not even that, he has no power. His brother does, but he doesn’t. That boy isn’t human, nor is he demon. He is irrelevant.”
“True, true. He puts much work in, but he’s just an armor for the true weapon. A side character to the protagonist.”
“Pity, pity that he’ll never truly be one of us, or one of them. He means nothing. Honestly, his existence makes no sense. There’s no role for him anywhere. A prelude to the main event. If we use him right, maybe we can get to his brother when the time comes.”
Yukio’s heart hammered through his veins as he pressed his back against the wall. Their words made sense. What was Yukio doing here? The other day he had trained till he passed out, arriving at his regular school the next day, pretending everything was fine. He’d shed blood, pushed away companionship, for what?
To protect his brother. To grow himself.
But what of himself? He sacrificed his soul for his life, yet was he to be a throw away when the time came?
Shuddering, Yukio decided that it may be true. He was not an honourable solider of The Order, nor was he a weapon for humanity. There was no place for him. Yet, Yukio knew he should be grateful that he had not been marked with demon blood. Still, Yukio flexed his fingers and held his shaking hands. Was it wrong to want to have a place? A reason for living other than to be a shield for the true masterpiece?
Worthless. Worthless. As always.
He was a selfish person indeed. An innate flaw. Rin would have a hard life, Yukio told himself as he came home to his father patting Rin on the back. He would protect Rin, Yukio recited to himself like a mantra as his blood trickled down on his face from a mission. He’d become strong, that’s all he needed to do, Yukio repeated as he heaved a breath. For himself as much as for Rin. His brother was his purpose, as much as his leash. Maybe, if there wasn’t a place for him, among the too innocent children, or the lying adults, he’d carve it himself with his own power.
Love, hate. Confidence, doubt.
“Stop thinking about it so much, squirt. You can’t help that you’re no one.” Shura said nonchalantly as she patted his head. “Can’t help that when the adults look at you, there not really looking at you, unless with hate. You’re just born weird!”
Yukio ignored her teasing. She enjoyed his anger at times. Revenge for taking the place beside Fujimoto that she wanted to have. A weird sense of joy that came from the destruction of someone you inherently don’t like.
Yukio never held the treatment against her, looking back at it. They were both in dark places.
Later that week, the teacher announced that Yukio was passing at the top of the class. Yukio smiled at the claps, bowing bashfully, as he looked around at his teachers. Then, Yukio realized, that none of them were truly looking at him, but through him.
Yukio sat down and stared off into the distance. Was this what he was supposed to be doing? If Rin was supposed to be a great hero, or villain, what was Yukio to be? The clapping died down, but Yukio’s attention did not return to the class. The thought kept itching through his skin. They clawed in his mind.
Who am I? Who Am I? What am I?