Yevanjerio (Gospel)

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Your big idea’s to blame me for everything?!”

Thursday morning, up on the rooftop of St. Protasio.

“Th—That’s not all I’m trying to do! …Listen, you said it yourself, right? Even though Sachiko doesn’t have a choice about being an onmyoji right now, she feels responsible. And if I had to guess, she probably thinks everything concerning me, concerning the death of that journalist guy, and concerning her group going on hiatus is all on her! We need to show her that one, it was out of her own control, and two, that we all still support her and are willing to take up her slack. You see where I’m going with this?”

“…So you are trying to blame me for everything.”

“RRRRRGH! What the hell is it with you men and not wanting to take accountability?!”

“Ooooooh! Got his ass!”

“Thanks, Leonie. And fine, just to make you happy I’ll throw something in about Merry apologizing too. Or Shunji. Or Leonie. Or me.”

“Hhhhh. Look, I don’t want you feelin’ like you owe anything to me, either, but—”

“But what? Do you even care about getting blamed for any of this?!”

“…Not really. I just don’t want Sachi bein’ mad at me if this works.”

“Pffft… BWAH-HAH-HAH-HAH-HAH-HAH!!! Aww, someone have a little crush on his syzygyyyy?”

“Leonie, shush! Anyways, if that’s all, then I’ll have you translate it to Japanese. Okay?”

“W—Wait, wait, wait, wait! Just outta curiosity…you got any other ideas?”

“Hmm… Well, I was thinking I could take Byakko-maru back and have you scream into the phone as I slice the everliving sh—”

“Fine, fine. I’ll translate it. …Damn, read me like an open book…”

“You learn a lot about managing other people’s emotions when you have to look after a dad and a grandma every day.”

“Doesn’t translate to your own emotions, though, does it?”

* * *

Thursday night. Kokura. The cheapest hotel Sachiko Godoh could find. Not that she was in a pinch financially, but she had little reason to be spending more than the bare minimum at the moment. Soon, she figured, if her alliance with Niiro held up, she would vanish from society completely, being branded a murderer outright, and an enemy to her own kind. Only once Niiro won could she live a normal life again, so she might as well prepare now.

She had withdrawn a decent, but not overblown, amount of cash from the bank, and paid for everything she needed with cash: the hotel room; a phone charger; a single change of clothes; and enough tea, ramen cups, and frozen treats to make it through the week. She had also used her Hachimon Tonko to steal a few cases of beer from a convenience store down the street.

It was now the fourth night of her stay. At least a half-dozen empty cups of ramen were strewn about the floor, and one was even on the bed. The wastebasket was overflowing with even more ramen cups, tea bags, and snack wrappers, but the empty beer cans were lined up neatly against one wall.

There was no light in the room except for the blue glow of the TV screen and the dull orange glow of Sachiko’s phone. Indeed, no light switch in the room had been turned on this whole time, except for when Sachiko needed to get up and go to the bathroom.

Right now, as she was not in the bathroom, she was curled up in her lumpy bed, half-tucked beneath haphazardly arrayed sheets. Her eyes stayed on the television for the most part, but every now and again flitted to her phone screen to reload one social media feed or the other.

Throughout the day she had looked at microblogs about her group and herself online. Still claiming conspiracy and cover-up. It only made her more enraged, but she wanted to know it all—who these people were posting about her, their names, faces, habits, everything. She was far above them all, of course, as her investigation had shown. It gave her headaches.

But now that night had come, she wound down with entertainment. The TV was playing reruns of some sitcom from twenty years ago, and when it got too boring or went on commercial break Sachiko would watch short videos on her phone. When she got a notification from a friend or colleague, such as Justo or Cocoro-chan or her manager, she would simply look at the name of the sender before flicking it away. She was also, of course, tipsy the whole night, and would likely keep drinking until she fell asleep around 2:00 or 3:00 AM.

With all her attention divested into these noble pursuits, Sachiko had become quite negligent of herself. Her hair was oily, which stung her eyes though she didn’t care, and dried sweat clung to her skin. She had not bathed or showered since she had checked in, nor had she changed out of the T-shirt and shorts she currently had on.

A knock on the door.

“Housekeeping!” a voice came from the other side. Sachiko shut her phone off in disgust.

“GO AWAY!” she shouted, and watched the door until she heard the shuffling of feet and squeaking of cart wheels move further and further down the hall. Finally she felt content to resume spoiling her attention.

?

Even in the brief span it had taken for the housekeeping lady to leave, another message had reached Sachiko’s phone. But this message was different; it did not come from any of Sachiko’s normal contacts. And, to frustrate her even further, her phone had locked itself after she turned it off; the only way she could see who this number belonged to and what they had to say to her was to actually open it.

Most likely it was a simple spam message, but it could very well be someone in league with Niiro, or perhaps even law enforcement, the Bureau, or some other group working against Niiro. Her paranoia overrode her avoidance, and she dared to open her messaging app for the first time in well over ninety hours.

From: XX-XXXX-XXXX

Hi Sachiko-san! (>▽<)v This is Noe Numasaki, the possessed girl from the other week. I wanted to start off by saying I hope you’re doing better after that incident at Sacomidzu Park. I truly apologize for letting the ghost take control of me, which ended up being what hurt you 。・°°・(＞_＜)・°°・。 Justo and I were both worried sick, and we were checking in every day with Merry to see if you’d woken up. On the bright side, though, whatever you did with your exorcising stuff ended up being a HUGE help to me! ( ˃ᴗ˂)و I’ve stopped having nightmares since then, and I’ve gotten a lot better at keeping the ghost in check (more on that later). So, thanks a ton, and I hope you’ll be able to help me again!

We’ve also all been looking into the death of that Ohtomo guy while you were out, and while we haven’t turned up anything conclusive, we’ve got some pretty solid evidence to clear your name! First, your brother Shunji-san found some people discussing that his burns might’ve actually been ELECTRICAL burns instead of thermal burns. He submitted a report to the authorities, and apparently they’ve opened an investigation with the production company who put on the festival. Not to say I hope other innocent folks get blamed (´･ω･`) but if any story sticks it’ll probably be that one!

I say “innocent” because I think I know who the culprit really was. While you were out, Leonor and I got attacked by this rogue onmyoji (apparently you all call them “dark” onmyoji?) named Karen, who used some shikigami with lightning powers. Sound familiar? Anyways, I kinda freaked out at first, but I was able to use the ghost’s powers to kick her butt and scare her away (ノಠ益ಠ)ノ彡┻━┻ Couldn’t have done it without you!

And this “Karen” is also the one who tried to assassinate the archbishop on Sunday, the only other incident covered by the man who started the leaks about you. Coincidence? I think not… (　´_ゝ`)

The main reason why I’m writing this, though, is because I imagine you feel like you’re to blame. Not only for getting yourself hurt, but for everything else going on in your life. Justo told me you mages tend to feel a lot of pressure to be absolutely perfect, and even though there isn’t much you can do about it, you feel like everything about your life as a mage is your responsibility.

Well, I don’t think that has to be the case. We’re all responsible for each other! And, most of all, you’ve got another mage looking out for you. Or who’s supposed to look out for you, rather. Your brother Shunji-san really chewed Justo out for getting you two involved with me when you were already dealing with investigating Ohtomo’s death, and in the past couple days he’s really come around and accepted full responsibility for that.

Whatever you want to do from here on out, we’ll all support you, but I really hope I can get to see you do your onmyoji stuff again!

PS I had Justo translate this to Japanese for me, so if anything here seems off you can blame him for that too

Attachment: 1 Image

The attachment was a selfie Noe had taken with Justo and Leonor. Noe giving an earnest smile, Justo looking his usual cocky self, and Leonor simply throwing up a peace sign, not even looking at the camera.

Though her reaction was likely amplified by the alcohol, Sachiko chuckled at the message. At Noe’s overuse of emoticons, at her overblown apology, and…

“Know what? It really was all his fault.”

A couple swipes, and Sachiko had changed apps. She tapped on Justo’s contact.

Prrrrrr… Prrrrrr…

“Hey. Ijyuin?”

* * *

Blood splashed upon the cold, stony floor of the crypt. Jotaro Niiro clutched his arm, in a desperate attempt to keep any more from spilling out. One of the many hooded figures, this one possibly a middle-aged woman, rushed over to him. While chanting some archaic syllables, she swept over the wound with an outstretched index and middle finger. Slowly, the impaled area began to close up. The air in the chamber came to a standstill, the rest of the hooded figures not quite sure what to do next.

But Niiro’s eyes were not on his arm, nor on the woman healing him. Rather, they were on Sachiko Godoh, who now stood, facing him down, by the chamber entryway. But though Sachiko’s demeanor had changed substantially, his own remained the same as it had been before, hardly even fazed by the explosion just a moment ago or the swift, sharp blow Sachiko had dealt him.

“So,” he called out, “you set us up… You were in league with the Bureau all along.”

“Not all along,” replied Sachiko, undoing her bun and running a hand through her hair. “I might’ve forgiven you if you weren’t the ones who killed Ohtomo. But you really should’ve given it some thought before you sent out a hit to try and tank my idol career.”

“I told you she’d find out!” moaned Karen, who was still sprawled out on the floor.

“Oh-hoh,” exclaimed Sachiko. “Is that her right there? Is that the bitch who thought she could frame me for onmyo crimes?”

Karen gritted her teeth, bringing herself up slowly. “Who are you calling a—”

“KAREN!” shouted Niiro. He took a moment to regain his composure, biting down on his lip and letting out even more blood as a conduit for the panic he felt building up. “Do not answer her. It will not matter soon enough; she’s fixed her death as imminent. She, her friend, and all those following her from the Bureau!”

Sachiko looked behind her.

“Teresa,” she called out, “go!”

Teresa gave a nervous but firm nod, and began to take off down the corridor, back the way she and Sachiko had come. Niiro glanced back up at the new skylight. Still five silhouettes, compared to the dozen or so of his own mages.

“There aren’t even that many of you, are there…?” he mused, before holding up an arm, motioning forward. “And not a single one of you will get away! AFTER HER!”

Two of the cloaked mages, both older men, heeded their commander and charged on past the ossuary, past a startled Sachiko, and—

KA-CHAK!

—straight into the muzzles of two assault rifles, wielded by two men in full tactical gear and night-vision goggles.

If there was any sector that was well-funded in Kokura, it was the police department.

“FREEZE! GET ON THE GROUND! GET ON THE F—ING GROUND!” a chorus of husky voices barked. One of the mages attempted to pull out a fuda slip, likely to throw it at the rifle-bearer, but before he could even wind up he was taken to the ground by another officer, both arms pinned behind him and a heavy weight resting on his back.

The other mage was slightly more successful; he gripped the barrel that was pointed at him and, to this officer’s surprise, twisted it. The officer tried to shoot anyway; this only let off a loud BANG! and put a mighty dent in the part of the barrel that was aimed straight. Frustrated, the officer threw the rifle aside, throwing himself at the mage directly. The mage stuck his hand down the officer’s mouth. Instantly the officer peeled off of him, rolled over, and began to violently retch. The other officers knew not what was going on, but they met it with three simultaneous tasers, finally bringing the mage down.

“Well,” hollered down Justo from the rim of the new skylight, “the higher-ups at the Bureau wouldn’t even give us the time of day, but it’s a good thing we could count on the boys in blue, at least. You ain’t got nowhere to go now.”

As he said this, at least a dozen more officers appeared over the pit, all with firearms drawn and aimed at Niiro and his mages.

“FREEZE!” barked one of the officers, an older, heavy-set man who was presumably their captain. “DON’T MOVE OR WE’LL SHOOT!”

“Uh, hey,” Justo interjected, waving to get the captain’s attention. “That prob’ly ain’t the smartest thing to do right now.”

“WHAT?!” His gaze did not even stray from the sights of his rifle.

“See that weird purple bubble? That’s a barrier. Ain’t nothin’ can get in there aside from livin’ things, so you’re just gonna be wastin’ your bullets.”

“AND WHY THE HELL SHOULD I BELIEVE YOU?!”

“‘Cos two of us here work for the federal government. ‘f we complain, it could be your job on the line, Pork-Chop.”

Pork-Chop grumbled and cursed under his breath.

“HOLD YOUR FIRE UNTIL I SAY SO!” he barked again.

“Good,” exclaimed Justo with a sneer. “Now it’s really a battle for the mages!”

“Just be sure to actually back me up this time, Ijyuin,” said Sachiko down below, priming another fuda slip for the throng of mages before her.

Niiro, still staring Sachiko down, chuckled, and again, until he slipped into uncontrollable laughter.

“Do your worst!” he shouted defiantly, even up to the stars and the moon. “The blood of all you mages shall be spilt, to call forth the great spirit of the first war!”