[Quest Created: Rescue a Total Babe]
RRIIIINNNGG!
Kazuto opened his eyes, screaming. He clawed at his body, trying to seal the wounds that had killed him. His breathing hastened, tightening his chest.
I'm gonna die…holy SHIT I'm gonna die, he thought. He realized he wasn't grabbing at stone. It was cloth, a soft one. And the night sky had changed to a wooden ceiling. The faint aroma of smoke entered his nose, and he knew something had changed. Kazuto traced his body and found no wounds.
He sat up, and slowed his breathing. He was on a bed, in a room he'd never seen before. No… he was on a pool table, in another bar. Great.
Kazuto jumped when he heard someone clearing their throat. He scanned the room and found the culprit. A brooding, ominous man sat on a stool, facing away from a wall-mounted bar. He was impeccably dressed from head to toe in a fantastic suit. He had some short grey hairs sticking out from the sides of his head and a cool ass hat.
He just sat there, elbow on the bar, a drink by his side, and a cigarette in his mouth. The man took a drag and kept staring at Kazuto, as if waiting for him to speak first. Only one man could look this cool in a dark suit. And the aura he exuded told Kazuto exactly who this was.
"Y-you're Death…arent you?" Kazuto asked.
The man laughed. He took another drag.
"I read a manga like this before," Kazuto recalled, "where you go to a bar when you die. I have to like, face my sins and stuff right?"
"Mmm," Death responded. Every time he used his cigarette, Kazuto found it strange how far the smoke would travel. He was almost on the complete other side of the room, but the smoke went all the way to him, irritating his eyes.
"I guess I should start at the recent stuff right? I said some pretty mean stuff to a police officer a few hours ago". He paused. "Er, I guess when everything happened."
"It's been about a day," Death answered.
"Right, then yesterday, I told the guy to kill himself which was not cool at all. Especially because he actually ended up dying like a few seconds after that. I don't think I caused it, but I did put it out there, I guess."
Death stared.
"It was a daemon, by the way." Death turned his head at that one. "And I took his credit card before I ran away. That was definitely a stupid idea because if I used it the police would totally think I was the one who killed him."
Kazuto couldn't tell if the conversation was leaning particularly towards him going to heaven or hell.
"I did try to save someone before I died though, if that helps at all. Maybe it cancels out?"
Death reached behind him and sipped some of his drink. He sighed then said, "Why did you tell the officer to kill himself?"
"Okay, so me saving that girl doesn't help?"
"You said you tried to save her"
Kazuto chuckled. "Haha, same diff, right?"
Death frowned.
"Anyway, I told him to kill himself…out of habit, I guess?"
Death sat up straight and furrowed his brow, "It's a habit for you to tell people to commit suicide?"
"Eh. Not exactly. It's like, on the internet y'know?"
"The internet?"
"Yeah, like a game or whatever. Someone makes you upset so you just tell them to kill themselves. It happens all the time."
"This game makes people tell other people to—"
"Okay, I can't tell how much you know. Are you like, all-knowing or do you know when I'm lying? Cause I think it'd be hard to judge me if you've never been online, cause you'd be missing a lot of context. You also don't look how I thought you would so I guess I'm confused—"
"You're confused that Death is a black man?"
"What?! No! I just thought you would be all dressed in black…which…I guess you are, but like in a cloak or something. And yeah I thought you'd be paler but not because you'd be white but because you'd be all bony. Because…you'd be…a skeleton?"
It was Hell for sure. What did someone do to prepare for eternal torture?
The sound of footsteps interrupted the silence between Death and Kazuto. A pair of black leather shoes appeared out of the corner stairwell, followed by an ensemble extremely familiar to Kazuto.
"Daemon Spade," Kazuto choked out, "you died?"
"The fuck? It's Dante, piss boy. And no, I'm plenty alive, and so are you thanks to Morrison here."
Death stood up, and slowly walked to the corner where Dante stood. "You rescued a dumbass." He flicked his cigarette all the way across the room and into the ashtray on the bar.
Dante laughed and strode over to Kazuto's pool table. "So, how ya feeling?"
He still couldn't get over how much he resembled Daemon Spade. It was damn near identical. The entire night hit Kazuto all at once then. The monsters, the fights, and his death. His breath became staggered.
Dante noticed. "Well, the first rescue is free, so don't worry about it"
"There were monsters," he spoke.
"Uh, yeah. We try to keep those hidden but sometimes people get roped in. My bad"
"They killed a guy."
"Well, they actually killed a few people. Again, my bad."
"You got stabbed a bunch of times. Then you were fine."
"Runs in the family."
"I got stabbed a bunch of times. I feel fine."
"Kay. I can tell you're a bit confused, so let's start from square one. Up!" Dante reached and patted Kazuto on the back.
…
Kazuto had been given a change of clothes from the bloody soiled ones he had on. The bar became slightly more familiar to him after he explored it. It had three levels, with the bottom floor being the game room, the middle floor being the actual bar and the top floor was…rooms.
"Wait, you sat me on a pool table instead of an actual bed?"
"Kid, you pissed yourself." The man who Kazuto thought was Death, was actually named J.D. Morrison. He was the owner of the bar. Cool guy. Only one eccentricity stood out to him, which was that the bar had no doors or windows.
"Yeah, he's the real secretive type" Dante scratched his head. "Only one way in or out. My theory: we're either underground or somewhere in the sky. Who knows."
Of course, he seemingly left out exactly how they got in or out on purpose. For what reason, he couldn't guess. Wouldn't Kazuto have to be aware of it happening later?
Dante finally sat Kazuto down at one of the bar tables. Morrison kept this place in much cleaner condition than the one he had seen before. Dante slammed the table in response to that comment.
"It's only so clean because hardly anyone comes in here!" he yelled. It seemed the bar from earlier was actually Dante's own: Devil May Cry. Kazuto stared at the grease-stained business card. The logo was catchy, at least.
"What happened to all the people in there?" Kazuto asked.
Silence.
"It's not an actual bar. Clearly," Dante said. "Because if I was running a bar, it would be packed every night."
"Right," Kazuto glanced over at Morrison, who was polishing drinking glasses. They shared a look, but one that he couldn't read.
"Technically, Devil May Cry is a paranormal investigative agency. Legally, it's a bar."
"And actually?"
"It's a one-man devil hunting operation."
"Devil…" Kazuto whispered.
It was then that Dante explained the happenings of the night before. The creature that killed the police officer, the target of Dante's escapades, was a Devil. Kazuto pictured its distorted figure, like the aura of evil itself poured off of it.
He did not, however, use the same word for the smaller cloaked monstrosities that surrounded the bar. Those, he called demons. Kazuto couldn't tell why or how to differentiate the two.
The process, as Dante explained, was that someone, usually an entity or victim of the Devil, would pay hunters like him to kill it before it harmed anyone else. Though, that did pose a question that immediately appeared in Kazuto's mind.
"Wait, why were there so many then?" Kazuto sat upright from his chair. "Especially so close to your….uh, work. Did you know they would be around there?"
"It was probably an attempt on my life. Though, who would or could orchestrate that leaves me with only one question."
Dante pulled one of his guns from his coat, aiming it right at Kazuto's head. "What do you know about Satoru Gojo?"
Kazuto's breathing quickened. His heart nearly pounded off of his chest. Leaping from his chair, he yelled, "The hell? I don't…" The taste of vomit began to tease at him.
"Something wrong?" Dante asked, his voice cold. He hadn't adjusted his body position from leaning on the table. His grip around the pistol seemed relaxed.
That disgusting feeling washed over his skin. Morrison looked over at him sharply, like he had noticed something. A plea escaped Kazuto's eyes.
"Don't look at me kid, answer the question." Finally, he had set down the glass he was cleaning and put his full intention on the two.
"I…don't know who that is." He barely choked the words out. His legs were violently shaking.
Dante stared for a few moments, then spoke. "No sorcerer would be dumb enough to pretend to not know who Gojo is. Morrison?"
"He's telling the truth," He picked up another glass and resumed his work.
Dante lowered his weapon. "Well then, that settles it, you really are just a stray." He laughed.
Kazuto found it hard to readjust to so many changes in the atmosphere. He tried to release his fear, but it lingered on his body.
Dante stood up and approached Kazuto. "We ran your name and no lineage of note, so you're all clear. Here," he handed Kazuto another card. "Those guys should be able to help with anything weird you're feeling or seeing. Oh, and here's the credit card we took to look into your background. Sorry, Morrison is a thorough guy."
The first card read, "American Jujutsu Society, Red Grave Branch." The other was the officer's card, with the name "Miles Porter."
"Wait this isn't—"
"Alright, well sorry to be brief," he patted Kazuto on the back, "but hopefully we'll never see each other again, pissboy. Call me if you need a job well done, yada yada. Morrison, get this guy outta here!"
"WAIT—"
A bright flash enveloped Kazuto.