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Once again, a child has been thrust into hell.
It's far from a rare sight nowadays, and yet Kishibe still finds himself frowning. There's a child looking up at him. Green eyes glow in the moonlight, but Kishibe knows that they won't in the sun. Despite the way the light catches them, those eyes are dead.
Those eyes are devoid of hope. Anything to live for. Anything to love. Anything. They're hollow. They're pained. They're hurt, and Kishibe has seen far too many pairs of eyes just like that for this one to do much more than draw a sigh from his lips and an extra drag from his cigarette.
"Teach me." The kid says, voice high-pitched and almost squeaky. He hasn't hit puberty yet. If he has, it's only just barely. "Teach me how to kill them."
"No way in hell." Kishibe waves a hand and turns his back. It's not his job to make sure that some stupid kid doesn't get himself killed. It's not his job to teach stupid little kids to lay down their lives at the feet of devils for the sake of some twisted semblance of protection. This child thinks there's nothing else to live for. This child doesn't know any better.
Children don't know any better, and it isn't Kishibe's job to teach them.
"Kishibe." Another voice stops him, before he can walk away. A voice that he knows he can't say no to. Her hand is set on the boy's shoulder. The boy's dead green eyes are looking up at her with wonder. Everyone does, at first. Until they find out the truth about what she truly is, and what she's truly capable of.
"Yes, Ma'am?" He takes another long drag of his cigarette and looks down at the boy once again. He knows what she's going to say, long before her lips part. Those eyes stare right through him. A long time ago, they made him uncomfortable. Not anymore. He's learned how to be viewed, after so many years of working under her.
"Train this boy to be a devil hunter." She says, with that same smile on her face and her head tilted to the side ever so slightly. "This is an order."
Kishibe sighs. He just can't say no, can he?
"Yes, Ma'am."
Even with no light in those eyes of his, the boy looks excited.
Those eyes don't have any light to them.
Years go by in the blink of an eye. The older he gets, the quicker the years seem to pass. Hayakawa Aki goes from so small that Kishibe could easily toss the child across the room with no effort at all to almost a whole five inches taller than his senior before Kishibe can seem to even pin down what the kid looked like back then.
And yet, even as Hayakawa Aki's face matures and his hair grows and he gains height and weight and battle scars – enough to last a lifetime in this hell that they call life – those dull, lifeless green eyes always stay the same.
He smokes, now. Kishibe ends up loaning more cigarettes to the kid than he has to anyone else in all his years on the job. He has a contract with the fox devil. He has for a long time. Kishibe knows that he wants a stronger contract. He knows that the kid is desperate to get stronger. Desperate to kill more. Desperate for–
Desperate for power. Desperate for revenge.
He's known that ever since he saw those eyes, when Hayakawa Aki was only a child.
Admittedly, Kishibe never thought that he would see Hayakawa Aki's eyes as anything other than cold and lifeless.
Kishibe has never seen a coworker's eyes light back up, once they go out. He's never seen someone in this line of work find something that can bring their light back, and he never thought he would. Why would someone bother to search for a light in a business such as this?
Kishibe has never seen someone's eyes light back up, but Hayakawa Aki has managed to do it. Kishibe doesn't know what to do about it. He doesn't know what to say. He doesn't know if there's anything to say. He just knows that he sees that kid – that same kid, who looked up at him all those years ago and demanded train me – trailing behind that annoying blood fiend and the chainsaw devil with a smile on his face and a light in his eyes that Kishibe has never seen on him and nearly dropped his cigarette, he was so dumbstruck.
"You really care about those two, don't you?" Kishibe asks, when the kid asks to borrow a cigarette once again. Hayakawa's body almost jerks. His mouth drops open, and Kishibe thinks the kid is lucky, that the cigarette is in his hand and not in his mouth. He wouldn't have offered a replacement.
"Who?" Hayakawa asks, as though it isn't obvious. Kishibe rolls his eyes. He always knew the kid was stubborn, but he also knew that the kid was smart. He is smart. "You mean–"
"Who do you think I mean?" Kishibe raises an eyebrow, and Hayakawa goes silent. He stares out, off into the sky, and leans his arms onto the railing of the balcony. Thinking. The wind blows through his hair. Kishibe always wondered why the kid felt the need to grow his hair out.
"Denji and Power are..." Hayakawa pauses. He doesn't seem to notice that the cigarette in his mouth isn't even lit. "...important."
"Important, huh?" Kishibe tilts his head to the side and takes a long drag of his smoke.
"Important." Hayakawa repeats, as though trying out the word for himself. "They're... important." Hayakawa pauses again. They both know that it doesn't matter, what he says next. They both know that, no matter what Hayakawa wants, it won't matter.
They both know that she won't change her mind, no matter what.
"...and I want to keep them safe." Hayakawa mutters, lifting a hand to take the cigarette out of his mouth. "I want... them to live long and happy lives. And..." Hayakawa clenches his jaw, grits his teeth, hardens his eyes–
"...and I... want to keep living with them."
Kishibe doesn't know how to tell him that it's a lost cause.
He doesn't think he has to.
"Got a light?" Hayakawa finally asks, holding out his unlit cigarette. Kishibe doesn't say anything. He pulls out his lighter, lights Hayakawa's cigarette, and watches those green eyes – strangely alight with care for a pair of devils – reflect the flame of the cigarette hanging from his mouth as they stare off into the distance and wait for whatever comes next.
Hayakawa Aki is long dead.
Power is dead, too. Kishibe knows that. The chainsaw devil told him, in a hushed voice. So quiet that it had been difficult to hear. It had been frustrating. He had wanted to smack the child upside the head and tell him to speak up. He knew better than that, at least. The chainsaw devil has been through a series of ordeals. Everyone knows that.
The chainsaw devil's eyes look like Hayakawa Aki's did, all those years ago. They're wide and they're dark and they're empty. They weren't before. When he had that annoying blood fiend at his side and Hayakawa was trailing just a few steps behind. Back then, the chainsaw devil had been full of life. His grin would spread from ear to ear and his body would move as though he had an endless well of energy, and eat anything in sight.
Kishibe hasn't seen the chainsaw devil eat in weeks. No matter how many times he offers to buy the child a meal, he's always refused. Told that the child ate earlier. That he isn't hungry – Denji used to always be hungry. Hayakawa Aki once told him that with a fond little smile on his face and a lit cigarette in his mouth – and that he's too busy to eat. Kishibe doesn't know what to do with it.
Kishibe wonders, often, whether or not he really cares. Whether or not he should bother. Why does he bother? He never cared about the chainsaw devil. He never cared for the blood fiend, either. He trained them on her orders. He spoke to them on her orders. He cared for the chainsaw devil–
He helped the chainsaw devil–
I want them... to live long and happy lives.
...because sometimes, even Kishibe can be a little sentimental.
"What are you still around for, kid?" Kishibe asks one day, when he and the chainsaw devil have their little meet-up in the park. The kid jerks, just a bit, like he wasn't even paying attention. He blinks. Those light brown eyes catch the sun just right, but someone as experienced as Kishibe knows better than to mistake it for any kind of actual light.
"Whaddya mean?" The child asks, glancing at Kishibe out of the corner of his eye. "You're the one that wanted me to come here."
"No." Kishibe frowns and takes another long drag of his cigarette. "What are you alive for?"
"'Cause." The chainsaw devil shrugs. "Guess I got lucky? I dunno." He frowns. "Been wonderin' that a lot lately. But..." There's a pause. Kishibe turns his head to look. He wonders why he sees black hair and a lit cigarette, just for a moment, even knowing that it isn't there.
"...I think..." The chainsaw devil furrows his eyebrows. "...Power... 'nd Aki... would want me to stay alive, y'know?"
Those light brown eyes look up at him. They look up at him, like they're looking for guidance. Like they want a yes or a no. Like they need something. Someone. Some kind of reassurance. Confirmation. Knowledge that they aren't alone in the world, and maybe – just maybe – there's still someone out there that wants them to get their light back.
A long time ago, Kishibe wouldn't have said anything. He might have stood. Walked away. Left it alone. It isn't his problem. It isn't something he needs to worry about. It's not his job, to make sure that every child in the world has something to live for.
Today, however, he's staring right into the dead, hollow eyes of Hayakawa Aki's only remaining light, and it seems that old age has made Kishibe go soft.
"Yeah." He says, taking another long drag of his cigarette. "I think they would."
Really, there's no way for Kishibe to know that. How could he possibly know the wishes of the dead?
And yet, the moment he says it, just a little bit of light seems to come back to those eyes.