The student councilor's waiting room was quite possibly the most Spartan affair Ami Angeleye had ever seen. The walls weren't simply without paint; oh no, that would make her feel at ease compared to this. They were painted a shade of white that gave someone the impression of complete nothingness. Trying to make out the corner edges strained her eyes. The floor was a vast span of hardwood. A few metal folding chairs littered the room like a game of jacks. The lack of a clock made an annoying lack of a ticking sound. In a duel spasm of kindness and sadism, some joker had hung a "Hang in there, kitty" poster on the wall. The sitting form of Yasuko Wareme stood out like a sore thumb. "Oh, hey, Angeleye." There was something off about the succubus today. Maybe it was the loose khaki pants. Maybe it was the Dark Heart High sweatshirt. Maybe it the complete lack of make-up. Maybe it was the book in her hands with the title "Reconciling the Chaste Dominatrix". Ami cautiously took a chair across the room. "Um...are you feeling all right, Yasuko? You seem a bit...well, not yourself." It definitely wasn't her soul. As far as Ami could see, Yasuko was the same she had been every day since they met. "Uh? Oh, yeah, my outfit." Yasuko smirked and plucked at the side of her sweatshirt. "It was Councilor Ikari's idea. You see, the problem was, it was too obvious, you know? People are going to avoid me if they can tell I'm a succubus. I'm getting nothing except the soulless jerks just looking to score. And I can't feed on those. So, Ikari suggested that I experiment with innocuous seduction techniques. Exploiting emotional vulnerabilities and becoming a mental addiction and that kind of jazz. You would be bowled over if you knew how many acts spiritually count as sex." "I guess that makes sense." Ami nodded slowly. "But it doesn't really seem like you. You looked like you enjoyed it." "Well, business before pleasure, as they say." Yasuko returned to her book. "You're here about your own problem, right?" "My problem?" Ami could feel her headache from last night building up again. Yasuko turned a page. "Your alignment shock." *** *** *** *** ********************************************* Dark Heart High Netherworld Educational Institution for The Universal Propagation of Evil started by Mads ********************************************* Part Thirty Six: Consultations! by Nicholas Callahan ********************************************* ********************************************* There is, as they might say, always a bigger fish. "...and so, the Principal's Office of Dark Heart High once again submits a formal protest to the Board of Directors concerning the yearly grade promotion test. Both Principal Amakusa and I feel the test is completely detrimental and dangerous to the students who qualify on it, as well as pointless in the overall process." If you asked him right now, Akurai would guess that he would die within the next ten minutes. The only difference was that the current guests in his office didn't care enough to make it last the way Amakusa would. "The principal would like me to add that this school was created for the sole purpose of the steady increase of quality in the universal propagation of untruth, not to seek quick bursts of glory and prestige. He feels it is improper for the Board to use these tests to screen for minds and spirits of unreasonably extra- ordinary talent and disposition. He suspects, on the record, that the Board is using the school as a way to seek expendable talent for their own short term ventures." In conclusion, please don't shoot the messenger, he silently added. Three mad eunuch channelers, blind and deaf, babbled in unison. To any who understood Lemurian triad, each channeler was saying the single phonic elements of an entire word; one simply had listen to them all simultaneously to hear the entire message. Since Akurai, like most people, couldn't do this and even then didn't know fifth cycle Lemurian, some acolyte with unfortunately good ears was chained to all three of them. It was he who said, in a perfectly calm voice, "The Eternal Lord Y'rak-soki would like to remind you that Dark Heart was founded to stop such untidy actions. He is angered by such a baseless accusation, that the board members would be such hypocrites." Akurai suddenly got a very strong feeling from the other side of the room. There, a pathetic looking birdman was holding up a glowing blue stone. The very strong feeling was that the stone didn't care a wick about the same old protest and wanted an explanation about the Mikagami girl. It also felt that Akurai shouldn't pay attention to Y'rak, since he was new and not quite used to how things were yet. One of the channelers muttered something that made the translator choke in embarrassment. Akurai nodded to the stone. "I cannot vouch for the principal's actions towards Yuri Mikagami. I myself have opposed him in this. With the test and all, this school doesn't need someone else searching for a chosen one..." Akurai stiffened in horror when he realized his slip of the tongue. In the back of his office, a perfectly normal man laughed. "Poor, dear little Akurai. You are the model bureaucrat, aren't you?" The man stepped forward. To even the fabled eyes of a triclops, there was nothing unnatural about him. He was an older fellow, in his mid-fifties or so, a dark- skinned Egyptian dressed in an emaculate suit. The two other board members moved aside in difference. "An admirable quality, for sure, but you just can't stand a man who dreams. The tests are necessary. It has been seen. I have seen it, myself, in the mad dance on the winds of space. One day they will reveal He Who Will Destroy The Balance. It's one of *those* issues." The stone blazed with feelings. It felt everyone one should hold a darn tick and that the school was supposed to be a secular institution. The Egyptian rolled his eyes. "I'll explain it to you in the car, okay? Now, where was I?" He turned his attention back to Akurai. "Amakusa, though...well, you might have a point about that. Making a special cause of any one student is all well and cliche, but not very pragmatic. For someone who makes such speeches about cut-throat development, he's certainly building quite the pet project out of this Yuri." The channelers started up. "Lord Y'rak-soki declares that Amakusa may be an odd duck, but the competence is there." The stone felt that Amakusa was still pushing it, with this business of fixing the tests. Whatever his plan was for the girl, it was a complete mystery for the stone, for him to risk such obvious exposure. "They board is planning to convene in full at the end of the month. It seems fair to bring the Amakusa issue into discussion then, when we've had a chance to observe how he handles the sports festival this weekend. That will be a good test of his abilities, I think." The Egyptian rubbed his chin. Akurai barely exhaled in relief. He wasn't quite out of the woods yet. "I'll tell him about this when I see him again, then, if that's all right with you." "No," The Egyptian smirked. "I think it will be better for him to be unaware of this. In fact, we ought to tear out your memories of this conversation, just to be safe. Promise you won't hold it against us?" Speaking of which, the stone communicated in a fashion undisturbed by Akurai's whimpers of pain, where was the old boy anyway? ------------ The ducks circled around the pond gracefully, barely making ripples on the water. A family of them, from the looks of it. A father and a mother and a few children. These ducks had someone found the secret of it all. They were totally at peace with their place in the universe, the park where they lived, the human visitors who occasionally brought pieces of bread, the strange compulsion within them to fly south on a yearly basis. The ducks had it good. A small pebble spat forward and neatly decapitated one of the parent ducks. Amakusa couldn't tell if it was the mother or the father; something to do with their plumage, he vaguely remembered. He had to work on his aim, he reflected. He couldn't get soft in his autumn years. He had been aiming for its eye. Scanning the pond for more target practice, he reached down to pick up another pebble. "Howsa 'bout not doin' that, eh, Amakusa? 'Lest as long as we're in this meetin'. It would be makin' me feel so much at peace." "You've come at last. I was afraid you'd keep me away from my school all morning." Amakusa straightened up to face his companion. The man was short and stout, with punchy cheeks and a pronounce belly. A wave of hair, black touched at the edges with gray, flowed back from a face decimated by wrinkles, to the point that the eyes and mouth were but a few more ridges among many. He was dressed in black slacks and button down shirt, with a roman collar circling his neck. A large manila envelope was in his hand. "It's good to see you again, Father Hibiki. How is The Knight School's assistant principal this day?" "I'ma well 'nough, with the ol' joints and sores actin' up." Fr. Hibiki came face to face with Amakusa. The two of them shook hands. "I'sa trustin' you've been treatin' yourself with care and such?" "Life's smiled on me lately, you might say. I fear you might not be able to convert this heathen." Amakusa shook his head. "How's long has it been since we could talk as friends? School politics be damned, if I can't get together with my old arch-nemesis." "I'sa can't be sayin' that today will be for changin' that." The priest smiled sadly and stepped back. He held the envelope up to Amakusa. "Principal Gompachi is wantin' me to be givin' this to you. It'sa concernin' the sports festival." Amakusa tore the top off the envelope and pulled out a glossy eight by ten. His eyes narrowed his anger. "This is very sad. I thought you fellows stood for honor." "We'sa trainin' damned pretty boys to be seducin' junior high girls!" Fr. Hibiki spat violently to the side. "There's ain't no more good or evils. Gompachi and his like are just bein' 'bout the politics. And with Gompachi bein' scared of you and Tendo hatin' you for all he'sa worth, well...your little affair isa practically invitin' it all down on the your larger concerns." Amakusa crumbled the pictures. His voice was flat and dead. "I won't deal over this unless it's face to face with Gompachi." Hibiki continued. "They'sa wantin' the students on'a that list in there bein' removed from the festival. How's isa bein' done is up ta' you." "I don't think you heard me, Father. I said-" Hibiki held up his hand to silence him. "It'sa isn't bein' your place to be makin' demands. Ain't no ball is bein' in your court. You wantin' to be talkin' with Gompachi or Tendo, you'sa gots to be waitin' for the festival. Neither of them be comin' to you 'til then." For a split second, Amakusa's face wavered with anger. But just as soon, it returned to his trademark eerily calm. He packed the photos back into the envelope and smiled. "If that's the case, I suppose I'll have to make my own arrangements." ------------ The campus of Dark Heart High buzzed with the usual lunchtime rabble, blasphemies against the universal all and impromptu games of hacky sack winning out even against the racket of the repair crews. These were the days of school spirit, the kind that keynote alumni would recall in horrifying detail and social pariahs would carry to their therapists later in life. There wasn't anywhere you couldn't look without running smack dab into half-priced school apparel, life sized voodoo dolls of prominent opponents, and some former pigeon reduced to a poor man's augury. It was a day that made any jock's high school plans so very worth it. Off in the out edges of the cafeteria, Ami stared at a folded note like it was manna from heaven. Not that it made her happy. But it was better than window shopping the souls of her classmates. The lower classmen were simply inverted versions of her fellows at Sakura Arts; a negative photograph was still a photograph. And the upper classmen...Ami supposed there was some term to describe their souls, but you'd have to dig through a mountain of eclectic sociology books to find it. Well, there was one exception. "Augh!" The drained form of Yuri slammed down on the table just a hand-span from Ami, her upper torso instantly disappearing under a book bag strained at the seams. Blinking for a few moments, Ami grabbed the top-heavy pack and pulled it away, letting Yuri get her much-needed requirement of breathing room. Yuri slid back onto a seat, becoming very content to look like the living dead, the one five tables down. "You okay, Yuri? You look really out of it." With heroic resolve, Yuri picked her body up and slapped herself, bringing her senses back into alignment. She smiled weakly at her friend. "I'm okay, really. It's just...my new classes and all. I have to get used to the new work load, that's all." "If you say so." Ami smiled at Yuri. Yuri smiled at Ami. For a split second, the rest of the universe disappeared, their souls intertwined, mental barriers came crashing down, and pure honestly filled them both. Or, if other words, Ami could tell Yuri was blowing smoke, and Yuri knew it wouldn't do any good. So, instead, she opted to break down in tears. "I want to be a freshman again!" Yuri clung fiercely to her friend, letting forth tastefully-overstated twin waterfalls of sorrow. "Today, Mr. Lamech made us speed read 'The Sound and the Fury'! The entire book! He said it was good prep work for Necronomicon study! Prep work, he said!" "Er...there, there?" Ami gently patted Yuri's head. She figured there wasn't much she could except let the girl vent. However, it'd be less disturbing if certain classmates weren't taking pictures. Fortunately, it didn't last long. Snifflingly vaguely, Yuri peeled herself off of Ami's midsection. "I'm sorry about that. I'm just feeling overwhelmed. I must be low on carbs." Yuri blushed just a smidgen and dug out her bento. "I guess I should have more self control, huh? Especially since you probably have more problems than me right now. How are you feeling? You looked like someone had drained your blood...Were the vampires picking on you?" Yuri look of concern unsettled Ami for a moment, but the triclops came back with a bright giggle. Moments of pure honesty are fleeting things. "Oh, yeah, I'm right back on top of the world! I must have been...er...low on carbs! That's it! I forgot to bring my lunch that day." It didn't banish Yuri's look of concern, but Ami convinced herself that it was at least diluted and returned to her own grub. Her hand lightly touched the note. "What do you think...what do you think that we could do if it was the vampires? Or something?" "Bala could-" Yuri suddenly realized what she had said and wished she hadn't. "You know what? We would be able to go whup them ourselves! Or something." The quiet of not having anything appropriate to say descended on them. The two girls let the table know just depress this made them simultaneously, which was ironic, because the table was the only one in the threesome who didn't care. A nearby P.A. speaker tittered out two bell tones, followed by a voice fit to shake the rafters of heaven. "The meatling Yuri Mikagami will report to the Principal's Office at once! Any shape shifters or stalkers will be disabled with extreme prejudice! Goirak the Announcing Hoard thanks you all for coming to school today! All hail Goirak the Announcing Hoard!" "That new P.A. is starting to get annoying." Ami looked over at Yuri. "I'll see you later, then? Yuri piled her food back into its box and jammed the whole deal in her bag. She bowed curtly to Ami. " Yeah, I better get going. See you on the walk home, yeah?" "Yeah, of course." Ami gave the retreating Yuri a thumbs-up. It was so small and pathetic that the sepholapoid at the next table over fought back the urge to jump it. As soon as Yuri was well and out of sight, Ami popped another aspirin (she couldn't remember when she had gotten the bottle out, but she chose not to question it) and looked at the note from Mr. Ikari. It held a name and a phone number. Apparently, Mr. Ikari felt that Ami would benefit from the school Big Brothers and Sisters program. Somehow, getting to know this Ms. Tokiko Sanzenin would make her headaches go away. The councilor's smile had been a bit too knowing on that point. "Hey, is that you, Angeleye?" Ami quickly put the note and the bottle away. She spun in her chair to see who was addressing her. "What can I do for you...Maimsworth, right?" Craig nodded, then stuck his hand under his breastplate and pulled out a simple paper card. He nearly shoved it up Ami's nose. "This is for you. It's for my We-Handed-Melvin-His-Butt-on-a-Silver-Platter party." Ami regarded the card with a disturbed eye. The darn thing actually said that. "You want me to come to a party of yours?" "Of course you have to come! We did it together!" Craig seized up Ami's hand and held it high, remarkably still attached to the surprised girl's wrist. "Allies in danger! Fellows in arms! The two froshies who gave the Chaos-Bringer the one-for and lived to tell the tale! We Maimsworths might be evil, but we certainly don't leave allies in the lurch. If you're going to care about honor, you've got to care about everybody's honor. That's what grandma always said." He nodded sagely at the homespun wisdom, oblivious to the fact that Ami had slipped from his accidental death grip already. The former avenger of love and justice regarded the dark knight for a moment. He was completely earnest. He also had all the tell-signs of an amoral berserker, but an honest amoral berserker for sure. It struck her that she would feel bad if she said 'no'. "Alright, I'll come." No harm in it, anyway. "Yes! It's next Saturday, like it says on the card. And it's cool if Yuri and the rest come, too. Thanks!" Craig jogged off. Ami thought about how much he reminded her of particular girls she knew back at Sakura Arts. It was weird, that no matter what side of the fence, some things never changed. And her headache began to fade. Unfortunately, like all diligent headaches, the moment she noted this, it came back with friends. ----------- "You want me to infiltrate Knights' School?" Yuri gapped at Principal Amakusa, sitting behind his desk, with a combination of wonder, shock, horror, and dead- on confusion. She shifted in her chair. "I'm sorry, sir, but I don't think I'd be a very good spy." The Principal grinned at Yuri benignly, an act that made him all the more disturbing to look in the eye. Yuri was vaguely aware that Akurai was behind her, but he hadn't made his presence known beyond a curt nod when she came in. Amakusa continued his proposition. "I'm not asking you to spy, Miss Mikagami. That would be a simple task indeed, one I could give to any student. No, this is a task that requires some particular talents, which you alone in all of the student body possess." Yuri shifted uncomfortably in her chair; a decent person would have put a dramatic pause in that statement. "What I am asking you to do is to destroy surveillance materials Knights' school has in its position. Pictures and such. Of course, there are multiple copies, but if you manage to get the originals, there's no way to prove the copies aren't artificial. I know the particular man who obtained them, and I know what he would do with the original source materials. He would keep them to himself, in a place essentially inviting someone to make an attempt for them." Yuri blinked. She knew where this was going. A fine education in the arts of a secret war wasn't lost on her. "He's preparing an ambush for whoever comes to get them. He'll be expecting me." "Very good, Yuri, but not quite right. As I said, I know this man. He thinks that this will goad me personally into coming for the materials. He wants me. We have a history together, long before we both became educators." Amakusa crossed his hands in front of his face, so that they covered his mouth. "He tried to steal the plans to a certain item I was building. I set his skin on fire." Amakusa's eyebrow shot up irritably at the sound of hardwood on hardwood. Yuri sweatdropped, realizing she had scooted her chair three feet back from the Principal. She responded nervously. "It's good that you know the enemy and all, sir, but you mentioned that I have abilities that would help. That can't be right. All I have is my mom's old armor." The older man giggled, in a masculine kind of way. He stood up and walked around his desk. "You under-estimate yourself, Yuri. Sometimes, it's not what you can do to the opponent, but what the opponent can't do to you. You recall the purity grenade, yes? Are you aware that-Oh, just a moment." Amakusa attempted to rub the scuff marks off the floor with his shoe. It was a no go. He sighed, just a bit. "Anyway, are you aware that you are the only student in the history of the school to be in the epicenter of such an attack and not even notice it? It's not a matter of strength, not exactly. A purity grenade works on a psychic level, using of the spiritual antithesis rejection principle to disable its target. It doesn't hurt the good or balanced at heart, only the evil. So, Knights' School uses such technology to secure itself. The hallways of their campus are flooded with the low-level energy of the pure and true. Since it works on exactly the same principle as the purity grenade, it should have exactly the same effect on you. None. Why this is exactly, I can't say, but as they say about the mouths of gift horses..." Yuri attacked the other problem. "Isn't Knights' School an all-boys school?" "Yes, it is. Not a difficult hurtle to overcome." Amakusa moved from Yuri's line of sight. "You will be provided with a supply polymorph potion, as well as the appropriate clothing and supplies. Arrangements will be made for you to shadow one of their freshmen for a day. You should be able to get on the campus and move about without complication." Behind, Akurai could be heard setting up machinery. "Now, you must be curious about what you're going to destroy. I would be disappointed if you weren't." Yuri decided to not disappoint him. The lights in the office went out. One of the walls turned into an impromptu projector screen. It showed a picture of a man covered from head to toes in cloth. How he could ever see eluded Yuri, but she had seen stranger things. Amakusa provided the narration. "This is Kenji Tendo. He teaches Knights' course in stealth tactics. As I mentioned before, he's the one who obtained the materials in question, and he's the one I expect to possess the originals. I would suggest you avoid facing him in combat, since he would be far more than a match for you. Mr. Tendo, it seems, has been collecting information on a side project of mine. The Knights' administration wants me to forbid our best athletes from participating in the sport's festival this weekend, under the threat of releasing this information and thus ruining two reputations, both mine and that of Dark Heart High's." Yuri piped up. "What kind of side project is this, sir?" "A controversial one." The slides started to circle through scenes of harmless modern living: kids playing video games, a union meeting, people shopping in a department store, some kind of idol concert, and so on and so forth. "These are taken from one of the realms under my rule. Not exactly what you would except from a world victimized by fifteen years of war, eh? I have used it and many others like it as part of what you might call an experiment in the civilized mind. I have introduced, all at once, certain concepts which may seem beneficial, but can be truly self-destructive if not given proper regulation: free-market capitalism, copyrighted musical property, unionization, the fast food industry, mass production, atomic power, the Playstation 2, track housing...Slowly, ever so slowly, they are killing this world, reducing the populace into a mere shadow of what they once were. One day, this society of this world will collapse in on itself, leaving nothing in it's wake but shattered minds and lonely spirits." The lights flicked back on. Amakusa crossed over to the windows, turning his back on Yuri. "Unfortunately, this is not a readily grasped concept by the evil community in general. It's considered very radical; and, until me, no one has implemented it in a practical arena. The experiment is not complete. If it came to public scrutiny right now, people would misunderstand. They would accuse me of being...well, a ruler for the people. No one would take the school or I seriously again. Do you understand the full magnitude of this mission now? Unless you destroy the originals, the school is disgraced either way, either at the sports festival or by these photos." Yuri nodded dumbly. It was a bit for her to absorb. "You...probably don't want me to tell anybody about this, right, sir?" "Indeed. As far as the rest of the school is concerned, you need some personal time to deal with the case of your uncle Melvin. The shock of finding out he existed and was hated by both sides and all that." Amakusa snatched a piece of paper up from his desk. "Also, I'll need you to get a permission slip signed by your parents. For the lawyers, you see." --------- "Could it be that one of our newest sophomores is a fellow bibliophile?" Sakazashi the Fifth, Doombringer, spun around in indignation. "Hey now! I've never done anything like that with a book!" Kashin let his bemused smile deflate. "I guess not. Too bad. What are you here for, then?" The senior ambled past Sakazashi, tracing a finger along the binding, his eyes wandering over the titles. "The pseudo-planer geography section, as well. I didn't know you had a class in this subject." "Geography?! I thought this was the history section!" Sakazashi shove the book in his hand roughly onto the shelf. "Darn aklo...it's darn near impossible to read. Now I have to find that stupid card catalogue again." A measure sigh of sympathy escaped Kashin's lips. The library was literally a web of the archaic and the foreboding, with a bit of the Dewey Decimal System mixed in for good measure. The librarian had planned it out that way, too. The moment any student became lost too deeply in the twisting shelves, they gained first-hand insight as to the hunting pattern of the stygian arachnid demons. The administration let this continue simply because it kept students from sleeping in there during free periods. "It would be better if everything here was in Japanese, but aklo is just better in the long run. It is proven to be the only truly universal and timeless demonic language. People are counting on the school to outlast the local dialect. Perhaps I can help. What title are you looking for, exactly?" The Doombringer rubbed his temples. "Let's see...it was Rouw Cleeve's commentaries on the Enuma Enish. I have to write a report on it for tactics class." Kashin pulled a volume down from a shelf, a negligent gesture. "You surprise me. I'd be more concerned with getting notes and assignments from your freshman courses. You'll need them for when you get sent back and the grades you get in the sophomore classes don't matter a tic. In fact, missed assignments will speed the process up for you conveniently." Sakazashi's eyebrows shot up with considerable speed. "What do you mean, 'when you get sent back'? I'm not going to fail just for your jealousy." Kashin leafed through the text. The younger boy couldn't tell if he was really reading it. "I'm being pragmatic, not jealous. The grade promotion test recipients always get sent back. You and Mikagami won't be any different. It's terribly unfair if you ask me. The very act of promoting you keeps you from taking the classes that qualify and prepare you for later courses. So of course you can't stay on top of your new workload and you have to be sent back for you own good. I've seen students fall prey to it many a time, myself included." The sophomore simmered with anger. Even if Kashin were a senior, even an especially infamous senior, Sakazashi of all people wouldn't let something he was proud of be spit on. "Then why would the school do it, huh? There has to be some hope of a promotion recipient doing well. The administration isn't stupid." "The administration, no, but this school isn't entirely in Amakusa's pocket." Kashin closed the book and tapped it on the palm of his free hand contemplatively. Sakazashi sensed the older boy was waiting for something. Kashin continued. "The tests are required by the school's charter. They've been in there since the beginning. Compared to now, the school, in its early days, hardly measured up in terms of a quality curriculum. The whole idea of a school for these kinds of affairs was still quite revolutionary, after all, and the founding faculty barely knew what they were doing. So, the founders put the test clause in so that potential wouldn't get stuck in the school and kept away from a workforce that sorely needed it. For obvious reasons, it's obsolete in the present era. Amakusa's been trying to have it voided ever since he became the principal, but the Board of Directors is stubborn on the issue. The directors with the most clout seem to be convinced it still serves a purpose." "Then I'm going to prove them right!" Sakazashi hitched up his backpack firmly. "And if you're not going to help, then you'll just have to be humiliated. Now, if you'll excuse, upperclassman, I have a card catalogue to find, librarian or no librarian." Resolute in his mission, Sakazashi marched back out into the general expanse of the library. "Do try not to incinerate the Derelith, please." Kashin called over his shoulder. The senior then put Rouw's commentaries back in its place and made for the exit. "Good luck with it, Doombringer, since you don't seem to have that firm a grasp of something as basic as aklo." ------- The support beams glowed in the light of the setting sun. The wind blew fiercely, up this high. The air pressure grew lace thin, and the cold could chill a man to the bone. A single misstep meant shattered body parts, several meant splattered remains. When Balabalalde wanted his privacy, he could always count on the top of the Tokyo Tower. He hands trembled as he removed his uniform's shirt. He knew he shouldn't do this. If anyone found out, he doubted he could create a reasonable excuse. Even Leilei would condemn him for doing it. It was one of the greatest taboos he knew. Bracing himself, he pulled his undershirt over his head and looked down at the final ward. The ward was near impossible to see. Balabalalde could barely make it out, only because he knew where to look. There, down along his breastbone, he could spy the words of power, the edges of them glimmering with faint ultraviolet iridescence. This ward touched the very core of his powers. Without it, the other wards, the chains, the wrappings would fail in an instant. The magic that hid and guarded it was so subtle that it disappeared into his body itself, merged with his essence. The spells needed to remove it were lost to all except the most powerful magi in the world. It had been decided that the powers of both the Wargmere and Agherukk would be combined to remove it when he came of age, if seen fit. If they were indeed needed. Along the right edge, tiny enough to be passed up in a passing glance, the ward had cracked. Two miniscule triangles of ancient and blessed paper, frayed and burnt by an alien force, poked up from his skin. Something, he knew, had broken through at that point. It had happened, as far as he could tell, during the final fight with Melvin Mikagami, when that thug had actually asked Bala if he wanted to join in defiling Yuri. Deep inside him, he possessed a force greater anything yet seen at Dark Heart High; and, for the first time in his life, Bala was very much curious as to what it was. Slowly, tenderly, he slid a fingernail under the exposed paper. Instantly, the ward fought back, filling his body with pain. Bala gritted his teeth and continued. A fingernail, then a fingertip, then a full finger. Blood dribbled down his chest in a tiny rivulet. He chest burned and ached under the pressure. The words of power blazed to life, blanketing the boy in an eldritch aura. His blood boiled. His head spun. His senses collapsed around him as he screamed silently, the muscles in his throat clenching up. The wind roared and pounded around and through the tower. The metal girder he stood on started to warp around his feet. With a final burst of stoic strength, he pushed just a little deeper. The spell's power incarnated around him; orbits within orbits within orbits, an impossible spiral of sigils and words and equations and chattering spirits. Bala made contact, a small pinprick of revelation down below the pain and chaos. The mystery within himself was only himself, yet it wasn't him at all. This was a Balabalalde exponentially beyond Balabalalde, a version of the demon boy that dwarfed what he was now. He was but a shadow of what the ward held back, a larvae from which an insect of beautiful magnitude would emerge. In that core of strength lay thoughts, concepts, instincts, emotions a thousandfold more real than anything he could now envision. Breaking the ward didn't mean a boost; it meant an apotheosis. The ward confined him to humanity, as much as he could be called human. The lines of Wargmere and Agherukk were those of dark gods. But it wasn't separate from him, just unconscious. It also knew about Yuri. With a jolt, Bala yanked his finger out. Instantly, the maelstrom of magic disappeared. The only evidence of the attack on the ward was a finger-sized hole in the side of his breastbone. It was a bad injury, but he could ride it out. For him, it would heal. He took a moment to catch himself. His entire body glowed with perspiration. He had trouble breathing. His muscles shook as he caught his collapsing form. He needed to regain control of himself. It was a difficult to do with his mind focused on what he had just learned. "Yuri...forgive me..." The God Balabalalde hadn't surfaced to save Yuri from rape. The godhead had burst forth because it had an instinctual aversion to sharing such personal property. ----------- Author's notes: Two things I want to clarify. First of all, the bit with Yasuko in the beginning, that was supposed to be a joke. I'm not trying to pull her character into a complete three-sixty. I have no illusions that follow authors will want to even pay attention to it, unless they feel like playing around with it. Second, Fr. Hibiki was supposed to have a Kansai accent. I have my doubts over how well I wrote it. I am told the normal methodology for Kansai accents is to write them as hillbilly accents, but this never struck me as right. Instead, I tried to use the Excel Saga translation of Kansai (It's a'gushin'! It's a'gushin'!). I have a sad feeling that I messed that up as well. So...er...yeah, can't write Kansai worth dog-poo. In fact, I'm afraid to go back and try hand at hillbilly. This piece was supposed to be a lot longer and include Ki and Leilei. That was all in the pretty little plan I drew up for the plot the day I got assigned to write this part. The same plan that I threw out the window two days later. I do apologize for the lack of emotional development. I know that DHH still has a bit of that stuff up in the air, but I got Yuri's sudden promotion and Balabalalde "awakening" to deal with. I didn't jump into the sports festival like I feel I should have, since a part like that would probably ended up with everyone staring at each other meaningfully while Balabalalde showed off how cool he was. I wasn't successful in writing the part I wanted, but I do hope you enjoyed it. Thanks go out to Lawrence Chu for grammar/spelling check and to The Apprentice for e-mail brainstorming sessions. ----------- The phone rang plaintively. It went on for sometime, echoing back and forth through the empty house. Finally, a graceful, feminine hand, stained with grease, picked it up. Somewhere in the house, an Ingram Mac-10 was left in the middle of being cleaned and maintained. "Not many people have this number." "I'm sorry if I disturbed you-" "And the few that do know that if I don't pick after the fourth ring, I'm not in the mood to pick it up." "I'm calling about the Big Brothers and Sisters program!" The voice at the end of the line sounded like it choked out those words, panicking over the potential of the listener's rejection. "Mr. Ikari gave me the number. Maybe it's not the right one..." "Do you have a gun?" "...Huh?" "Do you have a gun? A privately owned one?" "Well, yes, a sniper rifle, but..." "Do you use it?" "No, it's really just a hobby..." "Then..." Tokiko Sanzenin fiddled with her sunglasses. "Mr. Ikari gave you exactly the right number."