D. N. Angel Fan Fiction ❯ Snippets ❯ The Curious Case of Daisuke Niwa ( Chapter 21 )

The Curious Case of Daisuke Niwa:

 

Disclaimer: DN Angel does not belong to me.

 

Warnings: AU, shounen-ai, general weirdness, copious pop-culture references, violence

 

A/N: This just popped into my head and I figured I may as well get it down before the idea mutated and turned into something worse.

 

Hi. I'm Dark Mousy and I'm a demon-hunter. That is, I hunt demons for a living. There's this society called the Demon Hunters' Association (DHA), and every month we get together to discuss various ways of killing things that go bump in the dark over tea and cake. They do some great seminars too, on things such as `How to identify a ghoul', and `What to do when otherworldly creatures start crawling out of your television'…ah, who am I kidding. It's like Halloween every day, only the monsters are real and there will be no `treats' at the end of the night except good night's sleep provided you've given it good and hard to the beastie early enough to get the recommended seven hours' sleep. What…? Oh, you sick puppy. That is absolutely disgusting. No way on earth would I do that!

 

There is, however, an international NGO (non-governmental organization, aren't I the clever one?) called the Demon Hunters' Association. In case you didn't get the memo, yes, it is dedicated to keeping innocent civilians safe from ghouls, monsters and other such things. There are a few agents stationed in every town and quite a few hiding out in cities for various reasons. Just so you know, I've lived here in Japan my whole life, and boy is it haunted. Any agent will tell you that there are way fewer evil creatures wandering around the United States and other `younger' countries simply because, well, there hasn't been enough time for evil to really fester and mutate and turn into something strong enough to dish out some serious harm. Yes, I know the people manning the Winchester house would beg to differ but don't worry, it's safe. Except for the roaches in the basement, but that's not really my area of expertise and I'd take the roaches over an angry demon any day.

 

As anyone with half a brain cell's worth of common sense will agree, it is much safer for agents to work in pairs, or small teams depending on the job and the size of the area haunted. It's all very well sending one agent out when it's just a rowdy little poltergeist who's having a little too much fun at some poor homeowner's expense, but when things start getting rough, an extra pair of hands is never unwelcome.

 

You see, a few months back, my partner Shiryu done gone and got hitched to another agent by the name of Seiya. Moved up to Canada and everything. I attended the wedding. A few days after what I affectionately call `The Great Beaver Incident of 2010' (if I told you, I'd have to kill you), I got the call from the Osaka branch of DHA, telling me to head up and see if there was anyone who caught my eye. So I packed my bags and made my way up to the big city for a week or so, just to make sure I found a suitable partner. Adjustment period and all that.

 

The entire process went pretty well, all things considered. With my stunning good looks and ready wit, I found myself with a brand new partner: Krad Hikari, born on June 11th, Gemini, likes art museums and big guns. When I say big guns, I mean big guns. He hand-made his own special set of guns, and carries the lot in a special case that straps to his back. They're like those Transformers toys; there are special latches fitted onto the weapons so that when put together properly, you get one Big Freaking Gun made up of lots of little guns. He showed me by slotting the lot together and firing off half a dozen rounds, although I admit he came a little close to damaging my trench. Hey, clothes cost money and I only get paid when I'm actually working. That little trip to Osaka cost me at least four days' worth of wages!

 

Thankfully, we're back home now and settling in quite nicely, even if I do say so myself. All right, so Krad's still trying to get to grips with the fact that he is no longer the best-looking guy around, but we all have to learn that someday right? Plus, I still have to remind him every Sunday evening when we both go over to my parents' for dinner (they invite him every single time, I still have no idea why) that no, graphic descriptions of monster guts and throats getting slashed are not appropriate dinner table topics no matter how accepting of your occupation your family is. Was he brought up in a hunting family where these things were taken as a matter of course or something? You think the man would have picked up a few social skills by now. Still, for better or for worse, Krad and I are partners now, and we'd best start getting to know each other. I'm guessing that he doesn't relish the thought of dying by kappa either.

 

*********

 

It's been a few weeks on since the last trip to Osaka, and I'm quite thankful to have another person in the house again, even if he isn't the world's most charming roommate or anything like that. Okay, so he likes to practice his shooting quite a bit. I can handle that, and as long as he doesn't pull a Sherlock-Holmes type thing and try and shoot pretty patterns into the wall, we'll be just fine. It's a Monday morning when we get the call. Well, let me rephrase that. It's 4.27am on a Monday morning when we get the call to haul out. It's some place in Azumano, and even as I scramble to get the details of the address down on paper I'm already wondering why they would send two out-of-town agents into a place that should really by rights have at least one team (of two people) or a cell (of four people) on standby at all times. If one of them has gone off on holiday unannounced, there will be heads rolling. The conversation with Toussaint goes shortly and quickly, what with me being barely able to string two words together to form a sentence and she almost ending her all-nighter shift.

 

Krad, having modeled his sleeping habits after those of a traumatized cat's, is up and at `em before I even start thinking about the quickest way to get out of bed. Thankfully, we're both used to the irregular hours and thus keep a travel bag full of equipment and whatnot by the door. It also makes for a great `survival kit' should the flat one day burn down with us still inside, although of course I'd like to think that will never happen. We get into Krad's Porsche, because he always purses his lips in disgust and pouts like a ten-year-old girl denied a Barbie doll whenever we go in my perfectly decent Toyota.

 

I am only too happy to let my new partner drive, since it means more sleep for me. Plus, being unconscious is recommended when said partner drives like a Grand Prix participant on speed. We pull into Azumano at about five-fifteen, seeing as it did take us a little while to get dressed and in the car. We make it up to the front of the building, where no one is to be seen in spite of the expensive decor in the lobby. Slinging my duffle over one shoulder and pulling out my gun, I nod at Krad and we slowly enter, boots still making a muffled thump on the ground. When we get to the reception counter, we see a pool of blood and I'm definitely not relishing the police's job of telling his unfortunate family that they're now short one member. A noise from the side catches my ear and I whip around, holding the gun up and ready to shoot. The air feels heavier all of a sudden, and I only have a second's warning before my gun suddenly flies out of my hand and darkness falls.

 

*************

 

“Wake up!” A blur of red and light brown swirls into my vision and I blink hazily. “You have to wake up!” The sight slowly swims into focus and I can only stare in shock for a moment. Am I dead?

 

“You know, you should call God. I'm sure He's missing an angel up there.” Oh, hello foot. What are you doing in my mouth? The person above sighs and quickly pulls me up into a sitting position.

 

“Can you stand?” He asks urgently. I try to push myself off the floor, but end up staggering dangerously and almost fall back down. “Hey, easy there. Come on.” The man half-drags me behind the reception counter and I try not to gag at the sight of the poor security guard, still lying there with half his brains splattered over the desk. Some poor lady is going to have to clean that up.

 

“Krad?” I whisper, unsure of what's going on. My saviour places a finger to his lips and squashes himself up against the desk, clearly listening for something. I take a moment to appreciate exactly how easy on the eyes he is, what with the way he's just arched out over the floor, dark crimson eyes intense beyond belief. Huh. Apparently having my head slammed into a marble floor turns me into a Harlequin novelist. Who'd have thought?

 

I quickly listen around, wishing fervently that I had my gun on me. Unfortunately, the only weapon I have now is a boot knife; handy, but definitely not much good against anything supernatural. A flash of shadow catches my eye from above and I scramble in next to the other person, who's now frozen up in fear. A civilian, then. I lash out with my knife and only succeed in slicing through the darkness. Two smoky tendrils reach out towards me and I hastily retract my foot, stabbing wildly all the time. I need to restrain this thing, and quickly.

 

The man next to me gives a cry as he's suddenly dragged forward, the shadow having latched onto him instead of me. I quickly reach up and grope around the desk, hoping to grab a highlighter or something I can work with. My fingers encounter something long and thin, and I hear a faint rattle as I roll it down. Correction fluid. Perfect. Giving it a quick shake and praying that it's not all dried up yet, I hastily squeeze out a banishing sigil on the floor and press my fingers into it. “Bai!”

 

In a screech and a flash of light, the shadow winks out of existence and its soon-to-be victim flops to the ground, breathing hard. I grab his hand and yank him up. “Come on,” I say quickly. “You live here?”

 

After finding Krad, who'd apparently been hiding behind the door and waiting for a chance to strike (as he calls it), we head up the redheaded man's place. It turns out that his name is Daisuke Niwa, and that he was the one who requested our services. Which explains why he was wandering around at half five in the morning, I suppose. Krad and I immediately get to plastering charms to the door and windows, making sure they're as demon-proofed as it gets. Daisuke watches us with round eyes even as we explain what we're doing and introduce ourselves. Sensitivity seminars always place emphasis on making sure that all parties are fully informed before any serious demon-busting takes place.

 

Daisuke has a rather unique little problem. Apparently he's being stalked by shadows. Or more precisely, he literally lost his shadow; it separated from him a while back, and of course this drew quite a few stares. However, he's worked out that it's weak to wasabi, of all things (don't ask, I have no idea) and thus stocked up on the stuff, even coating his bathroom door with it. “So you'll help me?” He asks, eyes shining hopefully. Krad grunts and I nod.

 

“Er…so this problem. Was it urgent?” I ask. I'm trying to figure out how this problem merits a 4.27am call from Headquarters.

 

Daisuke ducks his head uncomfortable. “Well, my shadow sneaked in,” he explains carefully, looking at me from under his eyelashes as though expecting me to burst into laughter at any moment. “And it tried to attack me. I mean,” he hastily continues as Krad opens his mouth to say something, “it's only ever really snuck up on me and stayed put. It's never tried to attack me before.” He looks sheepish. “I didn't really know who else to call.”

 

Krad huffs behind me, and I know that there's really nothing either of us can say to that. It's not like we can just leave the poor man there to be terrorized by his own shadow until a more decent hour of the morning, but as things stand we'll have to stay around for a little longer. I sigh. Best get started then. “So, how long have you had this…problem?”

 

***************

 

It turns out that Daisuke has no idea why his shadow would suddenly turn on him. Ever the erudite one, Krad has dredged up some old manuscript which described a number of circumstances when your shadow would decide to take off. Unfortunately, Daisuke fits none of the criteria described; the look on his face when I ask whether he's ever marinated a hare in mandrake juice under the full moon is only just short of priceless. He's not bought anything that might be cursed, nor has he lost a loved one recently and been unable to cope with the loss. Krad and I examine every little nook and cranny of the flat, but the only conclusion we reach is that the flat is one prime piece of real estate.

 

Meanwhile, Daisuke is pacing around the house babbling randomly, bits of conversation interspersed with apologies for taking up so much of our time and questions on what we're looking for, or if there's anything else he can do. Finally, he asks the million-dollar question.

“So how did you, um, get into this line of work?”

 

Now, as clichéd as it may sound, anyone who goes into the business of hunting things that go bump in the dark has a seriously twisted past behind him or her. Demon hunting isn't like BASE jumping or cliff-diving where the reward is that rush of adrenaline at the end. It's damp, miserable nights performing rituals over graves hoping not to get caught, and a lot of running around and cussing as angry demons/spirits make a grab for you. I got into the job by accident, really, but that's a story for another day. It's not one I share with clients or anyone on a regular basis, really, and I'm pretty sure that Krad's got quite a few more skeletons in his closet if the look in his eyes is anything to go by.

 

“By accident,” I cheerily reply as I beam up at Daisuke. “Say, I'm a little thirsty. Is it okay if I get a glass of water?” I straighten up and make a show of stretching, almost curling up in surprise when I feel and see his eyes rake down my body. I know I'm fit; one of the few perks of having a job that requires you to exercise regularly and eat well; and I'm definitely easy on the eyes as well. I let a small smirk play over my lips and meet his eyes squarely. He flushes bright red at having been caught and scuttles out of the room to get that glass of water. Looks like this job will be more interesting than I thought. I turn to Krad and beam. My partner just rolls his eyes and gets down to examining the floor tiles again.

 

**************

 

It's now lunchtime, and Krad and I have decided to take a break. Since we'll be needing more clothes and other demon hunting supplies, we decide to head out to the nearest supermarket and stock up for a while. Krad claims he wants to get started on the case report and carelessly tosses the keys at me before settling down with his laptop at the dining room table. I, on the other hand, relish the opportunity to get Daisuke on his own.

 

We get to the supermarket in no time and I quickly park the car, pretending not to notice Daisuke staring at me like some lovestruck girl. “So, what do you do for a living?” I ask casually as we head inside and share a relieved sigh at the feeling of icy air-conditioning. My client shrugs.

 

“I'm a graphic designer,” he responds softly.

 

I hum and nod. “Cool. I used to date a graphic designer. Drove me crazy with his attention to detail.” I casually let the words drop from my mouth, all the while watching Daisuke out of the corner of my eye and waiting for his reaction. If I read the situation wrong, there's going to be a lot of trouble. After an agonizing fifteen seconds, Daisuke shrugs his surprise off and smiles a little.

 

“We get that a lot.”

 

I snag a trolley and head towards the produce shelves. “Yeah?”

 

My client nods enthusiastically. “Yeah, people just immediately assume that we're prissy and uptight, so it's like whatever we do, it's misconstrued. Besides,” he looks up at me anxiously, “it's our job to look for flaws. If we can't tell the difference between violet and purple, no one can.” He's all cute and excited, eyes sparkling and almost bouncing alongside me as we make our way down the vegetables. I grab a couple of cabbages and Daisuke blinks. “What are you doing?”

 

I stare at him pointedly. “Getting food,” I reply wryly. “Can't eat all of yours.”

 

“What?” He looks indignant, like I've just insulted him personally. “You're on a special diet or something? You're more than welcome to share my stuff, you know. It's not like I'll finish it all by the end of the week.”

 

Well, that's the first time a client's offered to share. Just in case, though, I make another grab for the cabbage. Daisuke glares at me and I drop the vegetables in surprise; the look on his face, whilst making him look like a rather angry kitten, also sends a shock of `Ooh, very interested' right down my spine. I'm surprised I don't just fall over and start dribbling at his feet in an incoherent mess. A little old lady bumps into me and murmurs an apology before trying to squeeze in between the two of us to get to the vegetables, so I quickly push the trolley away and head off down the aisle. “So what do you have in your fridge then?”

 

Twenty minutes later, we're walking out of the supermarket with just a small bag of snacks. It turns out that Daisuke's a bit of a health freak and thus stocks up on things like fruit, vegetables and milk. What he doesn't have are gummi bears, chips and chocolate bars. I grab a little of each of these things, knowing my late-night penchant for junk food, and snag a bag of liquorice sticks for Krad as an afterthought. The shocked look Daisuke gives me only serves to make me laugh, and soon he joins in.

 

The day wears on and slowly, subtly, Daisuke grows on me. When Krad and I finally manage to identify the shadow as a fully autonomous being that has only temporarily `possessed' Daisuke's shadow (I never fully understood the theory or psychology behind the entire process) and can finally proceed to setting up a potential trap, Daisuke looks so amazed and I just want to pounce on him right then and there. A well-placed kicked from my dear partner banishes these thoughts, however, and I force myself to stop daydreaming lest the charm we're about to perform goes horrifyingly wrong. I knew an agent who once accidentally turned her charm into a love spell and ended up pursued by an insane stalker vampire who bore an uncanny resemblance to that guy from Twilight. Somehow, I don't think Daisuke would enjoy the extra hassle. By now it's late afternoon and Krad is stretched out on the chaise-longue, idly channel-surfing. I, on the other hand, have to escort Daisuke to a nearby hotel to make sure he won't get caught in the crossfire tonight when Krad and I get to capturing the shadow.

 

I go to check on Daisuke, who's supposed to be packing his overnight bag, and am treated to a rather lovely sight of his upraised behind as he bends over to throw what looks like a sweater into the tiny suitcase. I admire the view for a moment before asking him whether he's okay, and if he'd like me to help. He whips around in surprise and for a second I see a glint of satisfaction in his eyes before the spark disappears and he's just surprised. I shake my head to clear it of fluffy thoughts and hold my hand out to help him up. “Ready to go, then?” He nods and bites his lip, looking up at me trustingly and I swallow before grinning at him. “Let's go then.”

 

Daisuke seems a little more talkative now and starts to ask questions about what sorts of demons and evil spirits I've come up against in my time as a DHA agent. I tell him about the Chinese vampire some idiot coffin-collector shipped over once and how much trouble it caused in the Japanese division. We had to fly in a proper Chinese Taoist exorcist for that one to lead the corpse home, since the family called us three days after the first killing and requested that the body be kept intact. Daisuke laughs and mentions a parallel story that somehow involved a French textiles designer being flown in to create `a sufficiently realistic texture' on the computer for a new logo. He blushes and trails off when he realizes that the story isn't really as funny as he first thought it was, and I can't help but smile at the sheepish smile he gives me.

 

Both of us are a little disappointed when we get to the hotel; for one moment I think about latching onto him like a barnacle, but that doesn't strike me as terribly romantic. He stares a little harder at me when we get to his hotel room and I catch a glint of something else pass through his eyes before I lean forward, he presses against me and something snaps. It's like I can't control myself. We tumble into the room in a messy tangle of luggage and limbs and that's all I'm going to say on the matter.

 

My phone goes off sometime later and I scramble awake, shuffling around the room looking for my pants. Thankfully, they're right next to the bed and I hastily rummage through the pockets just in time to answer. Krad starts yelling at me from the other end and I look around to note that I'm in complete darkness. Crap. It's late, which means that the shadow's probably wandering about now.

 

“You did it, didn't you?” Krad hollers at me angrily. “I thought Saehara was just joking, but you really do sleep with clients! What on earth is wrong with you?!”

 

I don't bother answering him; instead, I press the lovely little red button and hastily throw on my clothes. I'm supposed to be at the house and haven't placed any protective charms on this place yet. Sh-t. I glance around hastily and eventually settle for the cheap hotel pen on the desk. I scribble a quick protective circle in front of the door, reinforcing it with a scrawled spell on yet another small sheet of hotel notepaper and dash out the door, hoping I haven't forgotten anything. Thank goodness my equipment is still in the car.

 

I get to Daisuke's apartment in ten minutes flat, a new record for me, and slowly make my way to the door with my gun in hand. I try the door; no luck, it's locked. I slowly reach into my pocket with my free hand and produce a hairpin; shooting the lock off would work too, but I don't want to wake the neighbours. They've probably already had a bit of a shock from last night, and will probably be on edge tonight too. I don't want to have to explain to a floor of civilians why I'm toting a gun, thank you very much. The door swings open easily, because big locks don't mean better protection and I slip inside. The living room is silent, which is not a good sign. Krad was yelling at me before, so if he's silent now he's either busy or out of action. Neither is a good thing, just for the record.

 

The bathroom is suspiciously silent, save for the now-shattered mug and toothbrush lying on the floor. I raise an eyebrow; did the shadow mistake the things for one of us or something? Then a flash of red paint catches my eye and I realize that Krad put a visibility lock on it. There are also red visibility symbols glimmering faintly around the windows, which mean that the shadow cannot hide anymore. I look around quickly for a white outline or something that will identify the shadow, but nothing out of the ordinary strikes me. I slowly back out of the bathroom and head down the corridor.

 

The first thing I see when I reach the bedroom is Krad, pinned up against the wall with a much larger shadow writhing over him, and it's pretty clear that the whole affair is very much one-sided. At least, I hope so for my sake. I level the gun at the shadow and take a deep breath.

 

“Why Krad, I had no idea you were so…kinky.” My partner's eyes fly open and there's definitely rage in them as he begins to struggle again. I fish around in my pocket for a charm; I know I tucked one in there just before getting into the car the first time round; but my hand doesn't meet anything. I freeze as the shadow slowly turns towards me and two round, red eyes blink at me. In a rush of air it leaps off Krad and moves up the ceiling, and I open fire just as Krad does the same thing.

 

Krad then gives a shout of triumph as the shadow slithers down and lands on the rug, suddenly frozen still and I realize that there is likely an all=purpose trap drawn underneath there. I hastily raise my gun and fire once more. The bullet flies home and I beam, expecting good and bad to separate out. Nothing happens. My partner stares at me incredulously. I fire again, but still no change. I stare bewildered and slowly a niggling suspicion wanders into my brain. I pull out the empty magazine and examine it, looking for the cross that I know is stamped onto all DHA-issue equipment. Then I remember; my cousin came over last week and we went out to practice on a shooting range. I changed the magazine, because I didn't want to waste my holy bullets (do you have any idea how expensive those things are?) and…oh God. Krad's face shows that he's reached the same conclusion as I have, and the disbelief is evident in his voice. “You forgot your silver, blessed bullets?” I open my mouth to explain, but something suddenly glides in through the window and engulfs the shadow in milky fog.

 

I'm not quite sure what happens next, because I never really got into the whole theoretical side of demon-hunting, but from what I can see the shadow quivers, and splits into two. One's got huge, googly eyes that make it look like a Chuzzle (you know, those little fuzzy balls of fluff you're supposed to blow up) and the other is just plain malicious, with beady little red eyes. The fog dissipates and in a shriek the evil twin is gone. All that's left in the room is the wide-eyed, ridiculously cute shadow critter and a shaman.

 

The shaman sighs and pushes his glasses further up his nose, examining the two of us. He's got blue hair, and I stifle the urge to giggle and ask if the carpet matches the drapes. Krad, on the other hand, is completely smitten. He's got the whole `lust at first sight' checklist completed; roaming eyes, twitching hands, full-body blush…and I bet if he were to say anything, it'd be lost between his mouth and his brain. “Sorry,” the shaman says and Krad practically moans at this point. “One of my experiments went a little…awry. I hope no one was hurt?” His eyes dart over both of us and I grin.

 

“Not at all,” I say smoothly. “We put the civilian up in a hotel. He's probably still sleeping.” The shaman stiffens and I realize all too late that there's only really one reason why I'd think he was `still' sleeping as opposed to just `sleeping'. Oops. Then those sharp, pretty blue eyes narrow.

 

“There was a civilian involved?” There's a certain edge to his voice now and chances are the poor man has just remembered that involving civilians in occult rituals and whatnot results in a ban, or a very severe reprimand from the Council of Shamans. My report will confirm the same thing, and he's just told me everything I need to know.

 

“Well,” I say comfortingly, “I'm sure the Council will take into account the fact that no one was seriously harmed or anything.” The shaman doesn't seem too convinced, but I'm of the opinion that this particular one is a bit of a dour character, to put it bluntly.

 

“Can I have your number?” Krad blurts out from beside me and all of us, googly-eyed shadow included, swivel around to stare at him. Even Krad himself seems a little astonished at his sudden awkwardness, but thankfully I've never been one to stand in the way of true lust. Unfortunately, the look on the shaman's face goes from serious to just plain freaked out, and you can't really blame him. I mean, girls throw drinks on guys who do that in bars.

 

“Krad, honey,” I say, “You need to ask the nice man his name first. Then you can get his number.” My poor, socially-stunted partner nods and proceeds to ask for the shaman's name.

 

Meanwhile, the little shadow (which is quite cute, now I think about it), has sidled over to Krad and is carefully latching onto his leg. The shaman sighs and glides over to detach the creature, mumbling what might have been an apology. “It's Satoshi,” he finally says. “Satoshi Hiwatari.”

 

Krad sighs dreamily and murmurs `Satoshi' in a tone of voice that I hope never to hear again. I decide to leave the happy couple to kiss and clean up, and silently proceed towards the doorway.

 

“Dark.” Satoshi's voice is sharp and makes me jump before I remind myself that I am a fully-grown DHA agent and thus should not be scared of someone half my size and likely in notoriously bad shape. “Your client's shadow should have returned. If not, call me.” A card materializes in my hand and I briefly glance at it before pressing it into Krad's hand and dashing out of the room. I think this is one of the rare occasions where the aftermath of a case is more bizarre than the actual case itself.

 

I drive over to the hotel again and run up to Room 136. Just as I'm about to pound on the door again, it swings open to reveal a deliciously disheveled Daisuke. He smiles coyly at me and, well, I was never very good at resisting temptation.

 

*****************

 

I wake up the next morning and grin at the sight of Daisuke's shadow, back where it belongs and definitely not harbouring any ill intent. Looking down at Daisuke, I can't help but feel a twitch of interest and I can't stop the goofy grin that I know is making its way across my face when I think back to what happened last night. I know I should probably be freaking out considering I just slept with a client and jeopardized the entire job, but quite frankly I can't bring myself to care.

 

My phone breaks the silence again and I swear, if it's Krad I'm going to shoot him. I've been pretty lucky in the sense that most of my jobs tend to be fairly spaced out, with a day or so in between, but demons and beasties don't exactly take my schedule into consideration when deciding to attack. Either way, I'll likely have to get out of bed. “Dark Mousy speaking,” I say down the phone.

 

It's Krad. “I have a lunch date,” he says. I blink at the phone. Did I just step into a chick flick, or did my partner turn into a girl overnight? Mind you, he'd probably make a really pretty one too, seeing as he's already got the striking features and long golden hair down pat. All he needs is the curves and isn't that just a disturbing thought right there?

 

“Um…”

 

“With Satoshi.” Who? Oh yes. The shaman. Funny; I always thought shamans were off-limits because of their fragile states of mind. It isn't healthy for one person to handle so much summoning power alone, you know. Plus, Satoshi didn't seem all that impressed by Krad last night.

 

“Right…”

 

“I don't know what to wear.” Alarm bells go off in my head and I roll out of bed, fumbling around for my pants. I'll need to break out the holy water for this one; there is simply noother way on earth that one shaman could have reduced my very trigger-happy, slightly psychotic partner to a teenage girl. This is a bit of a mess.

 

“Krad, I want you to listen very carefully, and do everything I say,” I carefully tell him. He pauses and nods; I can feel the assent even through the phone line. “Repeat after me: In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit…” Krad immediately swears down the line, and I'm pretty sure the Lord never intended for that particular word to be used in any prayer. Or in any polite company, in fact. At least there's still some hope.

 

“I'm not f-cking possessed,” growls Krad. “I just don't know what to wear!” I huff and roll my eyes. I am not getting out of bed for this.

 

“Look it up on Cosmo,” I tartly tell him. “I hear they do these amazing colour charts for clothing where they look at decide what colours you should wear in order to better complement your complexion. I'm a Winter through and through. I'm guessing you'll be a Summer or Autumn.” I calmly hang up on him, ignoring the litany of curses that could make a sailor blush. I groan and lean back as a pair of hands makes its way up to my shoulders, gently rubbing in circular motions and soothing out the tightness I've been feeling lately.

 

“Morning,” Daisuke purrs into my ear. “Nothing serious?” I shake my head and lean over for a quick kiss, which soon turns into something more. We end up spending the morning…in bed.

 

************

 

Krad and I arrive back at our own apartment at roughly the same time, although I can tell from the bitchface he's pulling at me that he's not at all impressed by my leaving him without a car. He practically drapes himself over the vehicle as soon as I step out, and spends the next fifteen minutes checking the insides to make sure I haven't done anything to it. He pulls himself upright and sniffs at me. “At least you didn't do it in the car,” he says haughtily and turns away. I stare at his back, completely flabbergasted at this out-of-the-blue comment. I mean, okay, I've had my fair share of backseat experiences, if you know what I mean, but I'm getting old here. I'm not that flexible anymore, although it is flattering that Krad would think such a thing of me.

 

“At least I didn't call my partner up to ask him what to wear three days in advance of a date!”

 

The rest isn't worth describing, but I like to think I handled it like a mature, responsible adult who hunts ghosts and other such things for a living.

 

*************

 

It's been a week since Krad met with Satoshi, and he's bringing the shaman home for dinner. He announces this over a dish of stir-fry and some spicy wonton soup, then beams at me with a million-watt smile. It's frightening. I simply nod and start shoveling food into my mouth, hoping to leave the table before my partner turns into a gushing mess about how wonderful Satoshi is yet again.

 

I, on the other hand, have not brought Daisuke back once. Part of it is because it really is easier for me to just drive over than for him to take the train to my place, but the other part is because I just know Krad will go into overprotective male relative mode just to get back at me for putting Satoshi through the wringer. That shaman deserves it, and then more; he turned my partner from a relatively quiet but lethal machine into a gibbering mess of marshmallow fluff and sparkles. Some days, I feel like I'm living in a girls' slumber party and I'm not talking about that one Schoolgirls Gone Wild video that was all the rage back in high school.

 

Anyway, back to my little relationship. I'm headed out to Daisuke's the day after, just in time to grill Satoshi appropriately because he always seems to find a way to disappear on me whenever I'm about to break out the big guns. So I'm going to make sure I don't leave his side until `The Talk' is good and done. Krad is no delicate flower, but all the same I don't need to deal with his heartbreak dampening the mood in the flat anyway.

 

Seven o'clock rolls around and right on cue, the doorbell rings. Krad beams and runs for the door like some oversized dog with opposable thumbs, unlocking the latch. Satoshi steps in and I see a dark figure move behind. I really hope it's not another hostile shadow. Then it steps into the light and my jaw drops to the floor. It's Daisuke, standing there with a bottle of what looks like Grey Goose in one hand. He moves forward again and wait a minute, did he just--? I shove Krad and Satoshi aside and make a grab for the ugly welcome mat, lifting it up to find that the anti-demon seal on the floor is glowing and there's no way he can possibly make it into the door. “Bai!” I roar and slam my hand to the ground. Daisuke yelps and goes flying, expensive vodka and all. Satoshi and Krad are both shouting something, but I don't really catch what they're saying.

 

“Stop it!” Krad roars and just as I'm about to go after the demon again, he pins my arms swiftly behind my back. Satoshi's somehow thrown himself in front of Daisuke, who's just standing there with big tears in his eyes and looking like an abandoned puppy.

 

“He's innocent!” Satoshi shouts. I slowly let my arms go slack, making them think I'm willing to listen to reason. Maybe I am; I'd really like to think that Daisuke is one of those live-and-let-live demons, but they're rare enough these days and it never hurts to err on the side of caution. Still, a shaman is bound by his vows to serve and aid the human race, and if Satoshi's on his side there might be something worth listening to. Krad looks directly at Daisuke.

 

“You'd best explain,” he says before letting me go. Daisuke slowly steps forward, still taking care to avoid all the seals scattered about the floor and he slowly lowers his head. He takes a deep breath as though about to speak, but it's as though the words are stuck in his throat.

 

“What do you want?” The words tear their way out of my throat and Daisuke swallows again, tears slowly leaking down his face.

 

“I…I'm not human, okay?” He finally grits out. “I'm an incubus.” For someone dropping a bombshell, he's awfully short about it. I wonder if that's what wives do when they inform their husbands that they're leaving and taking the kids. “I'm not evil or anything,” he continues, clearly getting into the rhythm of things now. “And I swear I wasn't looking for information. I just really liked you, so I got Satoshi to help me out a bit and I swear I didn't mean for the shadow to get a little out of hand, and…”

 

I cut him off. “So you were just trying to get my attention?” Daisuke blushes and bites his lip, and demon or no demon, it's still hot to watch.

 

“Um…yes?” He looks up at me apprehensively, braced for the storm. I think about it, and figure that if he's not doing anyone harm, there's no reason not to continue dating him. Besides, I've grown rather fond of spending time with him and even though our relationship isn't the typical mushy stuff that television shows are so fond of portraying, it's working out just fine so far. And anyone in their right mind would have to be either comatose or dead to be completely immune to Daisuke's…charms.

 

“You're not killing anyone?” I ask suspiciously. Just in case.

 

Daisuke looks horrified by the suggestion. “What? No! I'm not an evil incubus.” There's definitely a spark of hope in his eyes now and I slowly shrug. It'll take a little getting used to, but if I can get to grips with the irregular lifestyle of a DHA agent, I can definitely handle a relationship with an incubus.

 

“Okay.” Daisuke beams and rushes over, pressing a hard kiss to my lips. Suddenly I feel something pierce my side and I wrench myself backwards, staring in shock at the dagger in my side. I barely manage to identify it as cursed before shock sets in and I stare up into deep crimson eyes, now blank and devoid of all feeling. “Wha…?” Darkness rushes over me and the last thing I hear is Krad screaming again.

 

Oops. This was supposed to be lighthearted and a quick AU romp, but it got twisted in the making. For anyone interested, I am thinking about an alternative ending but haven't worked out the details just yet, so let me know if you're interested! Reviews are much appreciated, and thank you for reading!