Dxd: A demon Among Devils-Chapter 72: []:SEES

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The sword-user leaned further back and stared up at the ceiling.

"Issei said that I shouldn’t hold onto my hatred, that it would not be good for me in the long run. He also said that should I find the people who were responsible for what happened to my friends and I, he would help me kick their ass."

The boy seemed bemused by the thought. He smiled. That sounded like something Issei would say. Kiba turned to him.

"Is that what you’re going to say to me as well? That I should not hold onto my hatred?"

He met the devil’s curious stare.

"No."

Surprise flickered in Kiba’s eyes.

"You should hate the people who have hurt you. Hate them for what they have done to you and your friends. That is normal. But don’t let that hatred turn into hatred for everything else," he nodded to him, "You are a better person than that."

The sword-user looked at him for a while, then shook his head. He noticed that for once, there was no undertone of anger or hostility in his gaze.

"Sometimes you sound too wise for your age," the boy smiled, "But that might be because you hold an ancient dragon and an equally ancient Archdemon in your head."

"It is a possibility," he said neutrally.

Kiba blanched. He frowned, concerned that he had said something wrong.

"That was supposed to be a joke," the devil said weakly, "They’re not really in your head telling you to do things, are they?"

He was affronted. The very idea. They suggested. There was a difference.

"They are not."

The sword-user looked incredibly relieved.

"That is good," the boy cracked another smile, "You really don’t do jokes, do you?"

He understood them, but did not make them. It was not his way.

"No."

"That is one thing about you I didn’t think I would ever get used to or ever respect," he could see how much that confession cost him, "You are always so stoic, so calm. At first, I thought it was because you were hiding something. Now I see it’s just who you are as a person."

He shrugged.

"I was even worse than this before."

Kiba looked at him, surprised.

"You were?"

"I was very apathetic to things when I first arrived. It took a group of extraordinary people to turn me into the person I am today."

"Those people," the sword-user said slowly, "They were SEES weren’t they?" at his nod, the boy frowned, "And you can’t just go and visit them?"

He chuckled inwardly.

"They are very far away from me at this moment."

"So they’re overseas then," Kiba said reasonably.

"Something like that."

"Well, at least there are other forms of communication available for you to keep in touch."

He thought of the Personas that had once been theirs, coming to him one by one, kneeling to him in that deserted road, and then melding willingly into his conscience.

"Yes," he turned to smile at him, "I suppose you are right."

For once, it was going to be a quiet night. The café’s normal influx of customers was already gone, and what few remained were sitting by the windows, chatting idly while they finished the rest of their meals. They took their time, but he did not mind. This store was not known for its popularity or brand, but still retained its share of loyal patrons. The owners, an old but still vibrant couple, had made it clear that customers could stay as long as they wanted, even past closing hours should they choose. It was something they took pride in, running a shop that was known for its hospitality. They reminded him somewhat of Bunkichi and Mitsuko back in his world, a little more stern, but just as caring in their own gruff ways. It was the wife that hired him when he had come in seeking work, despite him not having any related experience. The old woman had given him the job as soon as she inquired about his living conditions and learned that he had been living alone. A few weeks later and the husband had given him a raise, cantankerously telling him it had been his wife’s wish. But he had long grown used to observing humans, and from the way the man seemed extremely pleased when he thanked him suggested that it had been his idea all along.

So when they asked him to watch the shop after hours, he did not mind. The slow tempo work suited him and allowed him ample time to reminisce.

The bell ringing caused him to look up from his register. He frowned. Now was not an hour where new customers usually came in. The door to the café opened and a group of people stepped in. As soon as he saw their faces he knew his hopes for a quiet night was very much out of the question. They settled in one of the corner booths and waited expectantly. A few of them flashed him smiles from their seats.

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