After their "fight", they hugged and kissed, then parted their ways. Miya was happy just to have settled their dispute. Sort of, anyways. She knew what was bothering Kotarou now, and she could do her best to find a new solution. Her last brilliant idea--the "don't tell him you're feeling sick" plan--just seemed to piss him off and he would worry even more.
But all of that could wait until later. She had a much more pressing matter to address. Her reasoning for wanting to go to the bookstore had not been an entire truth. It hadn't been a lie, either, because she really did have a book on hold, and someone was waiting up for her. But the whole truth was that he, the man that was waiting up for her, held the promise of something much more important than any book: her--no, Misha's lost memories. The only condition was that she didn't tell either Kotarou or Sasha.
After all, they wouldn't approve of her working so closely to a demon, right?
"Aah..." she sighed. She raised her arms towards the sky and stretched as hard as she could, as if by will alone she would be able to touch the night sky.
She looked up with a sorrowful expression on her face. The sky was dark with storm clouds, the cold nipped at her face, but id she could fly like Sasha could, then she would have gladly spent the rest of the night up there, promise to Kotarou or not. The sky was so vast and seemed to offer her a freedom that her heart desired. A memory from Misha flickered in her mind:
She was flying high above the city, and Kotarou was in her arms. He was scared, but she wasn't. She was excited. Below, in the city and through glass windows, she could see happy families settling down for the evening. She felt happy, too.
Miya was suddenly back on the city street, alone and Earth-bound. She had been all alone, but the illusion that she wasn't had been welcomed. Until she was disturbed, that was.
"You look like an idiot just standing there."
Miya jumped at the voice. She didn't even have to look for the one that had spoken to her. He was standing practically at her side, and wore an expression that clearly told her to drop her arms.
Smiling nervously, she took a step back away from him. "I thought that you'd be waiting at the bookstore..."
A gentle breeze passed by them, ruffling his blond hair, his long black cloak, and the red ribbon that was tied loosely around his neck. His body was perfectly still, as if all life had left it and he was a corpse that was magically standing on its own. Like a zombie, she remembered the word. A beautiful zombie...
"You're late," the blonde replied after a long moment of silence. He sighed softly.
"Washing dishes took longer that usual tonight. Plus, Kotarou was late, and I had to get rid of him, too," she explained. She mimicked his sigh, but sounded more frustrated. "And we fought." She looked down and away. "It hasn't exactly been my night, Klaus-san."
She felt the weight of his gaze fall upon her. It sent shivers down her spine, and not in a good way. His icy lilac eyes almost hurt her. She realized that that was what had woken her from the memory.
"You're dressed rather stupidly for winter," he commented harshly. He walked up to her and wrapped a flowing black cloak around her shoulders. It just barely missed the ground, and if was warm. He'd probably had it in his arms all along, but this was the first time that she had noticed it. "You're not a damn angel anymore."
Another sigh escaped her as she shook her head at him.
It was after eleven o’clock at night and Misha was wandering the streets, all on her own. Yes, Misha. Despite all of her claims and insisting, to Kotarou, Misha was always Misha, not “Miya”. Memories or not, she was still his angel Misha. But to her face, to make her happy, he tried to remember to call her by the name she chose.
However, it was Sasha that was most alarmed by Misha’s choice of actions. She was even most worried about the “split personality” that the curse had created. The reaction was one of a kind, and in a frighteningly literal sense. Every other angel that was cursed had died. Cursed, forced to be human, then death. It was a horrible and fearsome death for an angel.
But why, he noted with the same curiosity he always possessed when thinking on the subject, is mortality worse than death? Why do angels fear being human more than their own demise?
Kotarou abruptly realized that he had been standing in front of his apartment door for a while. He even had his keys pulled out and held to the lock, but the door was still locked. He’d been so spaced out that he didn’t even realize that he was home.
He was worried about Misha. There was no doubt about that. She was meeting some man she hardly knew, and he knew the man even less. And only a few days ago she had fainted in her apartment, with only Sasha to watch over her. It was against his better logic to let her go.
He hoped he wouldn’t regret that.
There was something about Klaus that Miya had instantly liked. She had no idea what it was, but she liked it, even if he was a dangerous demon. Actually, he was everything she had come to expect out of demons after hearing Sasha talk about them, but then there were so many things about him that contradicted the lessons. If you earned his respect, Klaus could be considerate, and even to some degree he was nice to you. But most of all, it was his reason for being there, for wanting to help her find and destroy the demon that had cursed her, that had won her over.
Once upon a time, Miya had been an angel. Pink haired, bouncy, bubbling, loud and annoying—those were but a few of Klaus’s choice words for Misha. Now she was under a demon’s curse, which had apparently created a split personality that hid her angelic persona from the world. However, this in itself was not a permanent arrangement, because if the demon wanted, it could summon Misha out, and force Miya back. In a sense, she was a doll used for him amusement.
Well, that was what they had determined. Miya knew that Sasha and Kotarou were working on other theories, but she wasn’t being let in on any of them. Maybe if she knew then they could figure out how to remove the curse from her. It would make sense to have both an angel’s and a demon’s view on the matter, wouldn’t it?
“I want him dead.”
As usual, Klaus was good at bringing her out of her own thoughts. He did that often, with either his voice or his piercing gazes.
“But it’s not that simple, right?” They had had this discussion many times before about the demon that had cursed her.
A curse such as the one that this demon was spreading would surely demand a great deal of power, all of which had to be demonic; if any of it were angelic, that would neutralize the energy. But no living demon had that kind of power, and to gain it, it would take centuries, millenniums of training for that specific spell, alone. That she knew simply because Klaus had told her, and she trusted him to tell her the truth.
But, and that was a very big but, there was one very, very fast way to gain such power: absorb the demonic energy of the deceased demons and half-bloods. It was a forbidden practice among demons because even they respected their dead. From what Miya could tell, just about every form of life had some respect for the dead. Why should they be any different?
A look that Miya didn’t much trust, much less like, passed over his face. Pain. Even if they could stop the demon, there was no promise that they could save the essence of the demons that he had devoured. They could very well and truly be lost in his dark soul forever. And that demon had desecrated the grave of someone that Klaus held dear, and stole whatever was left of her away. His reasons for wanting to see the demon dead were justified, she thought.
“Do you really think that I’m important to this demon?” she asked, trying to change the subject.
“You are the only one that he did not drain dry,” Klaus replied. “The others he used to sustain himself. There must be an important reason.”
Well, that made sense. Enough that she wished that she could remember some of Misha’s last moments. Why is it that I’m still causing these problems?