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Greater love has no one than this, that one lays down his life for his friends.
(John, 15:13)
He who loves purity of heart, a nd whose speech is gracious, the king is his friend.
(Proverbs, 22:11)
***
A slushy kind of rain fell heavily as the dark winter dusk built shadows all around them on this god forsaken road in the middle of the mountain; police and ambulance sirens ringing in the distance, coming ever closer, pressing in; promising help, support, the backup requested from the Order hours upon hours ago.
Fathers Daichi and Suga were running as fast as they could, slipping on the ice and the broken pieces of concrete; desperately trying to reach the car that had just gone careening all over the road in front of them not even five minutes prior. They'd been chasing that same car for hours, as they tried to save Shouyou from the fate the horrific cult he'd been kidnapped by had designed for him.
Shouyou, who was too good for this world; who'd smiled kindly as he bravely offered himself instead of the two dozens of other children who'd been trafficked just like him.
Shouyou, who Daichi and Suga had co-opted into their investigation of the KuraiShiki cult; Shouyou, who was only 11 years old; Shouyou, who'd seen more violence and darkness and abhorrence in his short life than the two adults in their 25 years combined as hardened warrior-priests.
Shouyou, who in spite of it all, kept an unwavering faith in God, and did not stray from the path of salvation. Shouyou, who bore all the abuse and filth with a smile brighter than the morning sun; who cared for and looked after all the other children held captive for years and years by their satanic masters.
Shouyou, who was now painfully crawling from underneath the upturned vehicle with another, even smaller child cradled in his arms, as smoke billowed from the hood and a terrifying, repugnant creature emerged from the wreckage; human form all but gone.
Shouyou, who Daichi and Suga observed—in both pride and worried fear—as he soothed the crying toddler in his hold, before turning to face the demon lurking behind him, kneeling on the harsh concrete while making the sign of the cross and reciting without faltering the Lord's Prayer and the Act of Contrition (as if the poor child had any sins; Daichi was convinced that the Good Lord knew Shouyou's soul was as pure as that of a newborn); eyes open, gaze defiant, one hand stroking the younger one's hair while hiding the child's view from the horror staring at them; the other firmly holding a small wooden cross in front of them, just about keeping the gnarled monster at bay.
Daichi and Suga could see how badly hurt the boy was; the filthy grey tunic he wore ripped all across his back, angry red welts made by sharp claws showing, one foot swollen horribly, while dozens of cuts and bruises littered what little they could see of Shouyou's skin and face. His wild copper hair was plastered to his head, curls popping up everywhere as the snowy rain soaked him wet and made him shiver uncontrollably.
And still, Shouyou did not waver. Daichi and Suga watched him in awe and ever growing panic as the Dark One growled and hissed at them as they approached, using the fire burning in the car to raise a curtain of hellfire all around itself and the two children; determined to have its promised sacrifice, even as its summoner died in sickening pain, engulfed in flames and torn in the mangled vehicle. Shouyou never stopped reciting his prayers, never stopped soothing and protecting the small girl desperately embracing him, never once broke eye contact with the malignant thing.
As the two priests circled around the carnage, trying to find a way to rescue the children and exorcise the demon, frantic in their worry — for this was not their regular fare of devilish monster; this creature had the mark of the Seventh Circle of Hell on its horns; he was strong, a close ally of Lucifer itself — a shining light came plummeting down from the ashen sky, striking straight through the beast.
The fight that ensued next between the light and the sinister thing was brutal, and nearly impossible to make out. Daichi and Suga could hear the thundering echo of their clanging weapons, and see the sparks flashing when their attacks met.
Suddenly, the little girl that had been clinging to Shouyou came flying out of the circle of fire, landing in Daichi's outstretched arms (a voice—grave and quiet—had rumbled in his head, telling him simply "to catch"). The stocky man of the cloth carefully passed her onto his partner's waiting arms, Suga being infinitely better at calming people down, especially little ones.
Then, drawing out his sacred guns, Daichi began looking for an opening that allowed him to rescue Shouyou as the light fought the devil. But just as the warrior-priest blessed himself and stepped into the fight's direction, a great shrieking was heard, and all darkness and shadows converged in one spot, right where Shouyou was. Fearing for the boy, for Daichi recognised the attempted possession signs, he ran—only to be stopped by a blinding fulgor and a wave of tremendous pressure.
And there, in the middle of the ring summoned by the hellish beast, was Shouyou.
No longer knelt on the ground, but levitating—hands held in prayer, eyes closed, a bright golden halo shining all around him—as a huge, white clad, winged entity stood at his back. A large arm shielding Shouyou's face and torso, hand cradling the side of the boy's head, as the other wielded a huge sword that speared through the evil creature's forehead, right on the mark between its horns, destroying it as it let out a piercing screech.
Upon such a vision, Daichi fell to his knees in silent prayer, as he felt Suga coming to stand next to him, still holding the little girl against his chest, sacred revolver forgotten in one hand; both priests gasping in dazed wonder at the sight facing them:
An angel
—the first divine being any of them had ever seen so far, despite combating the forces of evil together now for close to two decades, within a monastic order that dealt directly with the supernatural and whose founder had been none other than the closest disciple of Jesus Christ—
—tall and graceful in all its imposing presence, delicate features perfectly complemented by deep blue eyes and long, flowing, silky black hair, an almost regal aura surrounding him; its four enormous wings flapping twice before folding at his back—
An angel
carrying Shouyou tenderly, like one would a bride or an infirm, long fingers pushing matted bangs out of his forehead in a soft gesture, before putting him down and reverently coming to one knee in front of the child, head bowed low, murmuring quietly in old Latin:
"Hold thee to me as mine master, oh Saint Child of the Purest Light."
Just as Shouyou, diffuse golden glow still permeating his puny figure, gently cupped the angel's face in his small hands, lifting it, and, smiling softly, ever so delicately kissed the being's forehead; before bringing both his and the angel's hands to his small chest and replying, face serene and serious:
"I am the Lord's servant, the vessel of his compassionate love. Make of me according to thy will, oh Instrument of Divine and Just Mercy."
And with that, the Angel bowed deeply, touching his forehead to the boy's chest briefly as Shouyou blessed him with the sign of the cross; before coming to a stand, devotedly lifting Shouyou up into its strong arms—who, once in the divine being's gentle embrace, seemed to collapse into an exhausted slumber.
The whole scene was so—miraculous, prophetic even, Daichi thought, unable still to get up, weighted by the saintly gravitas of the situation; as Suga whispered reverently next to him, eyes shining with unshed tears, as church bells pealed in the distant horizon:
"It's just like the little picture of Our Lady and Child at Karasuno's chapel, isn't it, Dai?"