Chapter 38: Above and Below

Ichigo stood barefoot and shirtless atop the obsidian terrace of his Infernity keep, Zangetsu held low in his right hand, its searing blade glinting faintly beneath the violet glow of the Underworld sky.

Despite how far up the altitude of his demesne was, the air here was humid and heavy. But in a certain way, he preferred it. There was a particular satisfaction in moving through the thickness of the air, as the moisture clung to his skin with each step. Negligible though it was, the resistance helped him in manifesting enemies in his mind’s eye, and the pressure of oncoming danger.

He exhaled slowly. Then moved.

A diagonal slash, flowing into a rising arc. His feet shifted fluidly across the dark stone, balance perfect, breath measured. Another step, blade reversing into a sweeping cut, then down into a vicious drop-strike. Each movement bled precision. No wasted motion. No hesitation.

Zangetsu whispered through the air with a strident hum, as if savoring the discipline and keenly honed rage braided into every stroke. Embers of flame danced about his form, falling off the razor’s edge of his Soul-Sword.

His brows were furrowed, but not in the primordial anger that he had grown so accustomed to, rather in the sheer force of will that was needed to ever keep it at bay.

A thrust. A pivot. A backhanded cut.

The reality of Infernity quieted to the sounds of his breath and Zangetsu’s edge.

In the rhythm of his personally crafted forms, he found control. Control over wrath. Over doubt. Over himself.

He stepped back into his opening stance and reset.

Again.

This time, faster.

Time bled, the stars in the sky moved and each bending of the elbow and every flick of the wrist saw the firmament of Infernity answer in response to its master’s unshakable will.

At last, satisfied with his practice, Ichigo dismissed his sword back into his soul and turned to grab the cool drink that was always left ready for him. And, as always, it was instead in the hands of a lounging Tiamat, who had already finished half its contents.

Shaking his head in fond exasperation, he approached her, taking note of how her eyes danced appreciatively over his form. She wasn’t even bothering to hide the naked want and lust in her gaze, never mind the soft hunger snaking through their mental bond.

“You have little idea how attractive a focused man is, beloved,” she said shamelessly.

He snorted as he sat down beside her, deftly snatching his drink from her fingers and downing the remainder in one go.

Freshly squeezed lemonade. And not the mortal kind. But from a specific variety of lemons that were native only to sacred groves hidden and maintained by Demeter of the Greco-Roman pantheon. A rare export of that mythos that Ichigo had only managed to procure after doing a favor for Persephone while he had been hunting Sinners in the past.

He dispelled the cup, and Tiamat wound her arms around his bare chest, laying her chin on his shoulder. Ichigo gave her a flat stare before leaning in and kissing her on the brow. He wasn’t going to complain about the lemonade. He could always get more, and, quite frankly, what guy didn’t like it when a girl said she found him attractive? Especially one as drop-dead gorgeous as Tiamat?

Yeah, he could let half a cup of divine lemonade slide.

Reaching over, he gently grabbed Tiamat around the waist and gave her a soft, half hug.

In honesty, his going through sword katas and fighting visualized enemies was a good way to let loose the remaining demonic power he had so carelessly expressed in Eligos’ pocket dimension.

It allowed him to…cool down, so to speak.

Sensing his thoughts, he felt his Dragon King’s mind wash over his in a cool and loving touch. He held her a little tighter, taking solace and strength from her love. Tiamat had proven herself to be a rather firm rock in the incessant chaos that was life for the last few years.

After sitting together for a few minutes of content silence, a realization hit Ichigo.

“Oh right,” he said quietly to himself. He had to call Serafall and follow up on Valend’s interrogation after Ichigo had captured him.

He took out his cellphone and immediately flicked through speed-dial for her number. He could call her telepathically, but Ichigo was well aware of how busy Sera was these days and wanted to give her the courtesy of at least having the excuse that she missed her call if she decided to ignore him for the moment.

Nevertheless, his fellow Sin picked up rather quickly.

“Berry-berry!” Ichigo had to hold back a defeated sigh. There was no mistaking the overtly bubbly cheer of the only female Crown Prince. “How are you doing this lovely morning?”

“Hey, Sera. How’s the Eligos interrogation going?” He completely skipped past pleasantries. Knowing Serafall, she would quickly run along with his empty platitudes and spend the next ten minutes gushing about her little sister. While also inserting the occasional insult on his behalf due to the verbal thrashing he had given her and the Gremory heir.

“Gah! Do you have any idea the condition Eligos was in when you delivered him to my team?!”

Yes. Yes, he did.

“A severed arm! Various third-degree burns! One hundred and seven bones broken! And a face so badly rearranged we had to do a blood test to confirm his identity!”

Ichigo rolled his eyes, not bothering to hide his exasperation. “Sera, please. Don’t pretend it didn’t take you and your people all of two minutes to heal him back to full health. I know how to pull my punches.”

“That’s not the point!” she said with an indignant voice, and Ichigo had to pull the phone away from his ear as her volume began to rise. “It’s ‘ask questions, then torture’! We don’t just go straight to beating up weaklings! There’s an order to these things, orange-head!”

Tiamat chuckled from beside him and Ichigo pinched the bridge of his nose in vexation. “Sera…the interrogation? Please?”

And he heard her blow a raspberry over the phone before speaking again. But now, her voice came clipped and stern. “We’ve confirmed the identities of at least five other major Lords still in hiding. Two of them have direct ties to funding from outer-mythos corporations. I’ve already had my people move in to disrupt and destroy assets.

“Eligos has also revealed the locations of three other bases of similar size and fortifications as his. Two of them are in the wilds: a pocket realm under the Agrihizain Basin and another hidden in the lower caverns beneath the Cocytus Ridge. The last one is situated somewhere in the ruins of the old Zagan territory, but Eligos did not know the exact location of the entrance to the hidden realm.”

Ichigo’s mind immediately went to the lessons he used to have with Grayfia and the structure of the Seventy-Two Pillars and their territories. “Zagan’s old realm was huge.”

“And left virtually untouched after the entire house perished in the Great War,” Serafall added. “We have teams of sorcerers scrying for the entrance, but news of Eligos’ capture will have already spread, we have to move fast on the two places we have confirmed.”

He nodded sharply. “True.”

“Will you be partaking in these incursions as well?” she asked, a hint of teasing entering her voice.

Ichigo snorted. “No, let Falbium and our military do their jobs.”

He had only gone after Valend and his armies because of how stifled he had been feeling, and the need to take out his frustrations after seeing Tiamat injured and Yasaka stressed to the point of tears. Hurting his loved ones was the one, sure-fire way to claim a guaranteed ass-kicking from him. And a painful one at that. Unfortunately, since Kokabiel and ilk were killed by Tiamat herself, and whoever had been helping from behind the scenes was beyond his reach for now, Valend and his forces had been voluntold to be the sacrificial lamb for his rage

Serafall had a small laugh in her voice as she said, “He’ll be so disappointed. He was certain you’d handle them for him.”

“Yeah right,” he scoffed. “Let that lazy bum actually earn his pay for once. Anything else Eligos divulged?

“Nothing pertinent. Unless you’re interested in knowing he confessed to wetting the bed up until he was fourteen?”

On one hand, Ichigo did not want to know that all. On the other hand…what? How does one continue to wet the bed up until their teenage years? Especially when they have access to magic and alchemy and other mystical means!

“Yeah, no thanks. I don’t need those particulars. Thanks for taking the time to talk with me, Sera.”

“Any time Berry-berry! Also, you’re expected in Yfel!”

Yfel? Ichigo’s brows furrowed in confusion. He had a stance of neutrality regarding matters between the Pillars. After the Satans had met at the summit, there was nothing more for him to discuss with the Parliament of Hell. What would they need him…

Oh.

Right.

“And let me tell you right now,” Serafall started hotly, “if you so much as lay one finger on my precious-

“Bye, Sera,” he said sardonically, promptly hanging up on her.

He had to be there for the final verdict regarding the punishment for the two Heiresses of the Sitri and Gremory clans, cosidering he was the one advocating punishment in lieu of sweeping it all under the rug. Actually, now that he thought about it, he highly doubted the matter would even be debated in front of the full Parliament. He wouldn’t be surprised if Duke Gremory and Duke Sitri had politicked and made concessions to several other Lords and managed to get the whole thing decided behind closed doors.

Just as Ajuka intended…

Undoubtedly, they most likely wanted him there to ensure that there was no room for objections and that he wouldn’t make a fuss after the fact. Lucifer, whatever happened to just grounding kids and making them clean up trash in the park for community service? Sometimes the nonsensical theatrics and posturing of his new species really grated on his nerves.

How irksome.

He turned towards Tiamat and her all too amused expression. “Wanna get lunch?”

---------------------------------------------------------------------

The throne room of Kyoto’s spiritual palace lay awash in gold and crimson. Towering red pillars lined the hall, their masterfully painted surfaces inscribed with the spiraling forms of golden dragons. Serpentine and furious in mid-flight, their fangs were bared and claws extended as if to ward away dark spirits and unscrupulous eyes. From the vaulted ceiling, long lengths of scarlet silk hung like flowing red rivers, dancing faintly with the whispers in the wind.

At the far end of the chamber sat Yasaka, serene and unmoving, enthroned in full Imperial splendor. Her golden eyes were closed, veiled beneath dark lashes, though her expression remained placid, unreadable.

She wore her traditional regalia, an elaborate twelve-layered jūnihitoe, each a smooth cascade of whites, scarlets, and golds. Each layer bore holy motifs: the noble rising suns, blooming moonflowers in the night, and curling clouds bathed in the golds of the dawn.

A gilded fan rested lightly across her lap, untouched.

From her elevated seat carved of sacred cypress, inlaid with radiant beaten gold, Yasaka stretched her senses far beyond the confines of her chamber. Her mind wandering across the lowlands of Kyoto, over distant mountain shrines, and through the shrouded realms between worlds. The mortal and mystical lands of Japan overlapped in her mind’s eye, a web of sacred places and rippling currents of power.

And though she bore the face of serene sanctity, every muscle beneath her silk robes was attuned to some distant disturbance, a subtle, but growing ominous thing. Nevertheless, her holy senses, refined over centuries, strained to find the trouble she could not name.

A whispering omen drifted at the edges of her perception.

And yet…

A breath she had not taken.

A shadow she could not place.

A Sha-

Yasaka’s eyes flew open, her gaze burning in gold power.

Before her stood two of her most trusted members of the Kyoto Inner Council. Karasu-Tengu, head of the Tengu clan and her own right hand, as well as Gyūki, the ancient Ushi-Oni. Karasu-Tengu averted her gaze, not daring to meet the Holy Might stirring within, and Gyūki…

Well, honestly, Yasaka was unsure if the old Yōkai could even see her, veiled as he was in heavy fabrics. Regardless, her thoughts drifted to what she had perceived with her supernatural senses, and much of it was disconcerting.

She fought the urge to bite her lip in front of her councilors.

“What is it?” Karasu-Tengu asked cautiously.

Yasaka stayed perfectly still, the implications of what she saw were mindboggling. It was impossible, not even Amaterasu-sama should have been able to-

“The damaged tear in the Veil located at the Valley of Kuoh has been repaired,” she said gravely.

Karasu-Tengu opened his mouth before slowly closing it again. The black-winged Tengu looking between her and Gyūki uncertainly. “But…that’s a good thing, isn’t it? The Lands of the Dead are no longer in danger of spilling over into the Lands of the Living. Shouldn’t we be celebrating the news?”

A deep hum of contemplation reverberated from Gyūki’s massive frame. “How?”

“Yes,” Yasaka said, a frown marring her perfect lips. “How was the Veil repaired? And so quickly?”

“Err, it’s safe to assume the Shinigami did so, no? Our reports indicate they have flooded the area with numbers in the hundreds! A few hundred psychopomps should easily be able to restore the damage done by some ancient trinket.”

“Impossible,” Gyūki said, his voice like the rumbling of distant thunder.

Yasaka herself gave Karasu-Tengu a disapproving stare. Some ancient trinket. It was centuries of royal discipline that kept her from scoffing openly.

Rhongomyniad. Even amongst Immortals and the Undying the Spear had been but a legend. A shadowed myth that had never been confirmed to exist. And out of the mists of legend it appeared; and within the short moments it had been allowed into the world it had caused irreparable harm.  

At least, it should have been irreparable.

“It is no mere trinket,” Yasaka said softly. “Even here, from my throne, I could feel our land bleed under the Spear’s cut. Hundreds, thousands, it would not have mattered: the tears in the Veil were beyond the Shinigami’s ability to repair.”

Black wings ruffled ever so slightly. “Then who else could have?”

“Divinity.”

And the word echoed like a damned cry in her throne room. Yes, Gyūki was correct. The repairs on the Veil reeked of divine interference.

The Tengu clan-head rubbed his jaw. “But it could not have been Amaterasu-sama.”

Yasaka’s frown only grew heavier because, indeed, her Lady was not capable of fixing the barriers. She would have done so already if it were possible. But the Realms of the Dead answered to none but their Thrones, and the Soul King had been stretched to the limits of his unbreakable will for eons now.

A sigh caught between her lips as she thought of the ancient stories of that Noble Soul who bore the burden of billions of souls across the span of several ages. Undoubtedly, the Soul King was the truest paragon of the Shinto Pantheon. He was the keystone that had ensured their survival, and now with the swell of humanity, he kept the whole of Earth safe.

Yasaka felt a pang within her heart, a twinge of sorrow for the countless years of solitude and pain that the Soul King had endured, and continued to endure, for all their sakes. Though she had never met him, her love for country and countrymen could not help but swell in pride as she thought of him.

Silently, she sent a prayer to him, hoping that he would be able to hear her heartfelt hopes and loyal love.

Thoughts heavy and dark, she dismissed both of her councilors with a wave, and they bowed as they left.

Yasaka closed her eyes as her mind drifted away from the Soul King and the fraying edge of the world. She could not help but drift toward more personal fears. Not those that assailed the mind of a sovereign and empress, but rather those of a mother.

Kunou.

Her precious daughter, her golden vixen, so full of mischief and light. Yasaka’s hands, still resting gracefully upon her lap, grasped the gilded fan and slowly began to tighten. Kunou had been so brave through the chaos, so steadfast, even as she had her shrine maidens take her daughter into the vaults beneath the city as the country shook when the Dragon King clashed against the spear forgotten in myth.

Her daughter was young. A child. She did not want her to grow up in the looming shadows of war. But war seemed inevitable at this point. Especially with turncoats and vicious armies ready to plunge their world into chaos.

And then there was her husband.

The infernal monster whom she lovingly shared a bed with. And who also seemed to be at the forefront when it came to facing armies invading their homeland. Her relationship with Ichigo had been a phenomenal boon over the years. Not only was she given the joys of being in a relationship, of that wonderous support structure a loving and caring spouse provided, but she was also given the sheer political weight of having a Crown Prince of Hell at her beck and call.

Negotiations were far easier when local feudal lords sat terrified her irate husband would one day come knocking on their doors. There were challenges in their relationship, like any relationship. But they were both mature and wise, and in love enough, to sit down and talk them out. Speaking of which, she needed to talk to him about Kunou’s upcoming birthday.

Eyes still closed, Yasaka gingerly pressed her fingers to her temple, willing the forming headache away. Too many things to do, too many things to pay attention to. And worst of all, not enough time.

She inhaled deeply, drawing in the incense-laced air of sandalwood and cherry blossoms. Her spine straightened. Her hands steadied. She let the tension bleed from her shoulders, forcing each errant thought to drift away like leaves in a sacred stream.

Things will be fine, she told herself.

She didn’t have to drown in stress and anxiety. Everything could be handled. She just needed to approach every issue one at a time and it would all fall into place. Just as it always had. Everything would be fi-

Her eyes snapped open, and her brows furrowed ever so lightly even as her chakra roiled in titanic waves as a new headache made itself known.

“I decidedly recall saying,” she said icily, “that you cannot enter my palace without my expressed permission.”

“Ah, don’t be like that, Hime. I’ve been coming and going for four centuries, what’s the harm?”

Yasaka glared at the man standing several feet away from her throne, a lopsided grin etched onto his face. His blonde hair was the same shade as hers. As were the two fox ears atop his head. In fact, they looked remarkably alike. The only difference being his piercing grey eyes as opposed to her golden ones. And that he only had six tails behind him, whereas she had nine.

Yasaka did her best to fight off the tired sigh building in her chest. Vying instead to keep her mien cool and relaxed. “Why are you here Akihiko? The last I heard of it, you were in the jungles of Thailand.”

Akihiko made a face. “Thailand? I left that place four years ago, you really need to work on your information gathering, Hime.”

“Akihiko.”

“Relax, relax,” he raised his arms placatingly. “Sheesh. Guy hears about his home city being attacked by Devils, and then two years later another invasion by Fallen, you think he’s not going to come home and check in on his oldest friend?”

“Is that what this is?” A dryness began creeping into her tone.

“Of course! We Kitsune are an endangered species! Not many of us are around anymore! We have to stick together! You, me. Childhood friends for the last four hundred years! Why wouldn’t I come to see you?”

Yes, she had known Akihiko for well over four hundred years. Ever since she was a small child, she had known him. He was one of the few Kitsune in her generation, and, given how she was the technical head of the Kitsune Clan, she had often met him in her youth back when her own mother still ruled in the physical world.

And somehow, she doubted she was the actual reason he had returned to Kyoto. At least, not the sole reason.

“And well, you know, that small, tiny, smidgen of a little tidbit you always tend to so generously ignore.”

“Akihiko.” A small growl forming in the back of her throat.

But much to her aggravation, he ignored her and carried on with the same lopsided smile. “The fact that you’re the mother to my daughter. Or rather, our daughter. How is Kunou, by the way?”

---------------------------------------------------------------------

Ichigo walked through large black metal doors and immediately took note of all the people in the room. Both Dukes of the Gremory and Sitri clans were chatting together, their respective wives off to the side also in conversation, but they were also joined by Lady Valac. And off to the corner of the large room, on a plush sofa, sat both of the Heiresses, who lost all color in their faces as they beheld him.

All the Devils quickly bowed in his direction and Ichigo waved them off. “Yeah, yeah, enough with the bowing.”

And then he turned towards Lady Valac’s direction with a pointed look. “Sylvanna, what are you doing here?”

Sylvanna Valac was the head of the Valac clan and one of the Pillar Lords who ruled directly beneath the Satans. She was one of the staunchest supporters of Sirzechs and the others during the Devil Civil War and remained as one of their key allies.

Ichigo, as a Satan, was given the responsibilities to head the Ministry of Law and Ministry of Order within their Empire. The Ministry of Law served as the judicial branch, dealing with legal matters that did not directly infringe on the rule of the Seventy-Two Pillars. And the Ministry of Order was the internal police of the Devil Empire. Whereas Falbium oversaw the military, Ichigo oversaw the enforcement of laws. Effectively, outside of the Pillars, Ichigo was judge, jury and executioner of their Empire.

Unfortunately, Ichigo didn’t know anything about the law. Especially not the hundreds of years of legal jargon the Empire had formed after the Civil War. As such, while he was the technical head on paper, it was Sylvanna Valac who effectively ran the entire Ministry of Law in his name. At least until he could actually learn all the legal ins and outs of their Empire. Which would probably take a few more years, if Ichigo was being honest with himself.

As for the Ministry of Order, it was currently being managed by Lord Phenex, also in Ichigo’s name, until the other Satans deemed him ready and knowledgeable enough to take over in full. Not that Ichigo was complaining.

Nonetheless, both Lord Phenex and Lady Valac were constantly in contact with him, keeping him apprised of the going-on of the two ministries and helping his education in what ways they could.

Lady Valac bowed to him once more. “As I am one of the few Pillars in your good graces, my Prince-”

Ichigo snorted. One of two.

“-I was deemed a suitable, neutral, party to convey the - ahem- judgement delivered by the Parliament.”

Ichigo folded his arms and cast a disbelieving stare at the two teenage girls in the room. Both of whom immediately shirked away from his gaze.

“They actually stood before the whole Parliament?”

There was a collective shuffle of nervousness from the Dukes and their wives, but Lady Valac kept a graceful smile on her lips. “It was deemed a better use of time that the matter be decided in sub-committee rather than before the full congregation.”

Ichigo gave her a flat look. “A better use of time? In a time-dilated dimension where we literally have all the time in the world?”

Lady Valac’s smile strained, much to Ichigo’s amusement. Though he did his best not to show it.

“Q-quite right, my Prince,” Duke Sitri managed to stutter out. “But-but, you’ll be pleased to know that our daughters have been sentenced to the full extent of the law…with some minor, almost insignificant, considerations taken in regards for their young age and status as heirs…of course…”

“Of course,” Ichigo repeated dryly, his tone clearly unenthusiastic.

“Be assured, my Prince, both of the young girls and their peerages have been given due punishment!” Duke Gremory said enthusiastically. Ichigo was mildly impressed at how well the Devil Lord hid his nervousness.

“Alright,” he said with a sigh. “Lay it on me, what kind of bullshit are you trying to pass by me?”

“Nothing of the sort, Lord Ichigo.” And he returned his eyes to Lady Valac as she coolly brushed her blonde hair behind her ear and continued to say, “Both young Devils have been given a sentence of ten years to coincide with your ban from the human world. In those ten years, they will be stripped of their Heir privileges, though they will retain their status, and they and their peerages will be banished from their Houses’ respective territories and to be placed under the supervision of another Lord and be reeducated under said Lord’s guidance.”

Ichigo mulled over her words in head for several moments, to which the Gremory and Sitri families looked on with increasing anxiety. “So, you’re basically grounding them for ten years and heaving them off to boot camp under another Lord.”

“It is as you say, my Lord,” she said. “And to ensure that they not be abused or used as political hostages, their new, temporary guardian will be one of impeccable neutrality and upstanding trust amongst the Pillars.”

That made sense to him. Any of the Pillar Lords would instantly take advantage of having two Pillar Heirs placed under their thumbs. It would be a right political nightmare for such a thing to happen. He could easily imagine the inter-territorial wars being waged.

But then, Ichigo was left curious about who they must have chosen as it would have to be someone trustworthy and completely removed from the territorial games amongst the Upper Nobility. For Ichigo, the first name that popped into his mind was Mephistopheles. The old Demon was staunchly against partaking in politics, finding them distateful and dull. Or, perhaps, an established and capable reincarnated Devil who had risen into the ranks of the nobility via merit?

Nodding his head, Ichigo said, “Makes sense. So, who’s the poor bastard stuck babysitting them for the next ten years?”

And it was only when everyone in the room gave him awkward looks, and Lady Valac’s smile grew even more strained, that Ichigo began to feel a certain dread crawl up his throat.

“Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me!”