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Devil Summoner Akechi Goro vs the Phantom Thieves

Canto III: Devils in the Details

S.E.E.S. Kyoto - Training Hall Kyoto, Japan 5:05 a.m. 

The sound of steel thwacking against wood could be heard from across the base and Sanada Akihiko knew there was no other place his commander could be at such an ungodly hour.

The traditional design of S.E.E.S.' master headquarters had changed little in the two hundred years since the Order of Yatagarasu was founded. Tokugawa Ietsugu had surpassed his legendary ancestor by uniting hundreds of secretive demon hunting clans under the banner of the Shogunate. While S.E.E.S. had long since outgrown the humble devil hunter roots and rebranded itself as a modern paramilitary organization, its history was on full display in the old capitol building.

“Akihiko-senpai?” Akihiko’s head turned as a young brown-haired man jogged up behind him, still dressed in a sweatshirt and warmup joggers from his morning run. A pale shiba inu nipped at his heels, jogging ahead and nuzzling Akihiko’s hand as he reached out to pet him. 

“Have we heard from Tokyo yet?” Amada Ken panted, tugging his earbuds out and stowing them in his pocket. 

“Just heard from Shirogane; looks like things went as smoothly as could be expected,” Akihiko said, scratching Koromaru behind the ears. 

“Niijima-san is alive then?” Ken asked. “What about-” 

“Yoshizawa is fine,” Akihiko said with a crooked smile. “Akechi too but I guess you don’t care that much about him .” 

“C’mon, don’t make me sound heartless,” Ken sighed, looking around and dropping his voice to a whisper as he leaned closer to Akihiko. “ Is it true that we had Fiends break through the barrier last night?” 

“Still trying to sort that out; I wouldn’t put too much stock in the reports coming out of Tokyo until we can get down there and figure out what the hell Narukami's people are doing,” Akihiko sighed, leading Ken towards the training hall at the far side of the base. 

Cold morning dew hung on the trees lining the open courtyard, breath coming in clouds from Kirijo Mitsuru’s mouth as her Polish saber thwacked against wooden training dummies, cutting deep grooves in the battered oak. Her hair was bound in a tight bun, scarred arms left bare as her sword glinted in the morning sunlight. If the chill bothered her, she made no complaint; Mitsuru darkly joked that she got all her crying out when she was ten. 

Given all that she had endured when she was ten (and all that she had endured since ), Akihiko wouldn’t begrudge her the odd tear every now and then. 

The only other figure in the courtyard sat perched on a wooden railing along the side, a cup of coffee in one hand and beanie shoved over an unruly mop of brown hair. His eyebrows raised in greeting as Akihiko and Ken slid on each side of him, tearing a chunk off a bun croissant and tossing it to the dog at Ken’s feet. 

“What a fucking mess…” Aragaki Shinjiro grumbled, sipping his caramel latte with a wince. “Way too early to deal with these unholy monsters.” 

“The Phantom Thieves or the Board of Directors?” Akihiko chuckled. 

“It’s never too early to take a bite out of a demon but it’s cruel to make us deal with Chairman Shithead before the sun’s even warm,” Shinjiro sighed, breath clouding in front of his face. 

“He called?” Akihiko asked. 

“Called, texted, emailed; the geezer even sent us a fucking fax when we weren’t prompt enough with our replies,” Shinjiro grumbled. “Of course, Mitsuru ain’t tripping over herself to indulge his curiosity which has only got his non-existent hair in a knot.” 

“The Board can wait until I’ve finished my workout,” Mitsuru called from across the courtyard, saber biting into the dummy’s wooden neck. “The way things are going, I don’t think the Chairman will begrudge me brushing up on my swordwork.” 

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