Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction / Yami No Matsuei Fan Fiction ❯ Memento Mori ❯ Those Despised of God ( Chapter 1 )

“God hates you.”

 

“How awful.” The scratching of pen on paper did not falter.

 

“No. I mean it.” A lone eye darted about frantically, searching for eavesdroppers. “He does. I can tell.”

 

“Lovely,” Tatsumi intoned.

 

“Not really.” At this Farfarello's voice dropped conspiratorially. “It's the only thing that hurts. The only thing that still hurts.”

 

“Yes well, we all have our pain. Now if you would excuse me I have reports to finish.”

 

The ex-assassin tilted his head slightly and watched the secretary work in silence for a few seconds. “He really does hate you, you know.”

 

“Mister Farfarello. As you can see I am very busy and-”

 

“You work for him right? For God? I bet your paycheck sucks.”

 

Tatsumi opened his mouth to give this newly dead a taste of what the Summons Section of the Justice Department feared of the shadow master, then suddenly stopped himself. “It does actually. It's a week of negotiations to even be considered for a raise.”

 

Farfarello nodded sympathetically. “I bet it's not nearly enough to compensate you for having to deal with these guys.” He gestured to the rest of the office area.

 

A large crash sounded from somewhere out of sight. “Sorry!” Around a corner peered cheerful, purple eyes, eyes most likely belonging to the apologize-er. “Nothing's broken!” Five more crashes punctuated his claim, each louder than the previous. “Um... Nothing's broken badly?” Something sounded like an explosion in the hallway. “I can fix it!”

“Baka!” A small blond boy yelled. “If you would just do your paperwork instead of fooling around, this wouldn't have happened!”

 

“But...but Hisko-oo-ka...”

 

“And...” Tatsumi's attention snapped back to the pale, scarred man perched on his desk. “And I'll bet...” Farfarello regarded his new-found brother of God-hates-me-ness. “I'll bet that your office budget is tiny. Never can fully cover the expenses and they never increase it.” He had Tatsumi's full attention now.

 

“Every single time I put in a form for a budget raise, I'm turned down.”

 

“That's because you don't have that guy do it.” Farfarello pointed to where the purple eyed brunette was being chewed out by his partner.

 

“What about Tsuzuki?”

 

“God likes him. I can smell it.” Jei Farfarello sniffed the air like a predator sensing his favorite prey. “Yes, God definitely likes that one. And the little bond boy too. God likes cute things.” He nodded, as if confirming his own words. The brown-haired secretary watched him warily. “You don't have to tell me. I know.”

 

“You know what?”

 

“He gets away with everything, doesn't he? Breaks things, destroys places, screws up. But I bet God turns a blind eye. Makes you clean up all the mess.”

 

Tatsumi's eyes narrowed and light glinted off his thin glasses. “Tsuzuki...” he said slowly, “does tend to be...destructive. And he does get away with a lot...”

 

“Because God likes him. If you did the same thing...”

 

“I'd get my pay docked.” Tatsumi remembered all the times while he was partnered with Tsuzuki that his paycheck suffered from the Shinigami's stupidity. But he never thought it might have been because God actually favored Tsuzuki over him. That was just ridiculous... wasn't it?

 

“It's not just in work.” The ex-assassin cut into his brooding. “It's in every day life too. God hates you. He takes things away from you. Things that are precious to you... people that are precious to you... God takes them away. While other people that God likes, like that little blond boy. People like him God gives the very things we wanted.”

 

Tatsumi's eyes narrowed as Hisoka's scolding gave way to gentle (albeit cleverly disguised) concern. The boy dusted ashes of whatever it was that blew up out of Tsuzuki's hair. Satisfied that his partner was alright, he shoved the man towards the mess with promises of obnoxiously sweet snacks when he was finished cleaning.

 

Slowly Tatsumi turned to the smug face of one Jei Farfarello. A barely perceptible twinge tightened above his eyebrow.

 

“So. You believe God hates you?”

 

Farfarello made himself comfortable before preaching to his rapt potential-convert.