The next day...
V was now in class, index and thumb fingers fiddling with one another. Bags were prominent beneath his eyelids for reasons that were obvious.
Classes one day would become a bygone activity of his adolescent years, and V would like to imagine he would look back on these memories fondly should nostalgia ever permit so.
Not now, however.
Even with patience, he was certainly not benign to the torturous wait for the dismissal bell to ring. He had many activities to attend to. One of which involved scouting any scant signs of Demonic Energy.
At the very least, he was sensing none while listening to the clock tick its hands, inching little by little to the end of the academia day.
The greatest pestilence for his current perturbation was a certain Demon masqueraded as a waitress, one whom he had lost the phone number he had labored so egregiously hard to achieve. It didn't do him any better at the prospect of a winged beast emerging from flesh, three-section maw gaping in salivation to needless, innocent deaths.
For all evils lurking within the Underworld who would find themselves astray in this realm, it was his responsibility to destroy.
It was the very same promise he had dedicated to himself time and time again, and he would keep to it until his own time's end.
Hey, that rhymed! Griffon spoke in his mind, voice mixed in with the registered chatters of the teacher. This is the third rhyme you've done while dead-bored in your own head, V. Keep it up!
Alas, it would seem the cheers of his bloodsworn familiar in flesh and skin would be a major contributor to his undying impatience during the lecture.
Rude, Griffon spat.
Speaking of lectures, the contents of his current one were, to put it short, arbitrary. Arbitrary for himself, considering he had already consumed all the books pertaining to his education measure and beyond.
The professor stood in front of the room with parabolic seats layered before him, set in a more university-like design so as to cultivate a student's habit to what it would be like should they ascend up to the latter of higher education.
The idea of skipping several grades had become evermore tantalizing to V, but he had wholly missed his chances a year and two ago. He didn't believe the activities of Hell's spawns would spark to such a high degree after he had passed puberty, but here he was, far too ignorant of its full machinations to have prepared for its proliferation.
"V, would you like to answer the question?" Suddenly, the voice of the professor struck V like thunder, robbing his attention.
"...The question?" V angled his head up to meet the professor in the selfsame manner of elegance the students around him were accustomed to. "Apologies, my line of thought drifted. Could you repeat the question?"
Silent but still audible shocked gasps were heard around him, as if they were baffled by his minute—nay, second—of folly presented. To be in this kind of limelight, V had already begun detesting it since he was branded a 'genius' amongst his peers.
"Ahem. Settle down, all of you," the professor spoke firmly after clearing his throat. "If you need the question repeated because you didn't grasp it at first, then that's fine. But please, don't let this be born from a habit of distractions."
V nodded.
The professor reiterated the question to him anew, this time, speaking a measure slower compared to what he would usually lecture in.
V replied with the answer, receiving a compliment from the professor, before the professor asked him how he had come to the conclusion of that answer.
Therein came his languid reply. "I don't know. I parsed it in a book."
Along with it, the class' whispers.
Humorous, V found it to be, as the professor had to usher the class once more into quietude with his true-and-tried, 'settle down, settle down.'
"I understand V," the professor began. "But remember, and that goes out to all of you, that books are not always infallible. Although your answer was correct, this type of question requires a degree of critical thinking and..."
His words became lost on V. Not that he hadn't agreed with them, per se, it was just that... V already knew the concept.
It was just that his previous statement was a lie.
Well, a half lie.
He did indeed scour his answer from a book, but it was by his own interpretation of the contents that he found the answer.
...So it wasn't technically a lie? Griffon asked, befuddled.
The professor misinterpreted him. V didn't feel obligated to correct that error, because there truly was no need to.
He yawned in his mind, restraining his physical body from partaking in the activity. His eyes lulled for a moment, his senses beginning to wane alongside his fading consciousness.
Had he not slumbered enough to rejuvenate himself...?
***
The time for lunch eventually came.
V did not spare a moment for respite and immediately stepped out of class in order to broaden his range of detection. If he was still Vergil, then finding any spatial warps between Hell and the mortal world would have been a trifling matter at best, a minor inconvenience at worst.
He could feel a certain person's gaze linger on him during his hasty departure, but he didn't pay it much heed.
Embroiled in these issues, V wondered what had gone wrong, harkening back once more to the past. There was not much to remember from his past life's childhood aside from fires and blood, migrating from town to town, and in desperate search for his father's repositories.
Aside from the relatively peaceful time he had spent as a child in this newfound life, not much was going to change in the future, he was afraid. Wherever Demonic Energy traveled, its cretins would follow along with an unbending stride.
Down the marbled hallways, across the academy's market square, and now to the verdant parks, V still didn't discern any Demonic signatures.
He was beginning to believe that he was wasting his time.
That elusive Demon he was yet to kill still lingered about, most likely having already sequestered itself in some confined space after having its meal.
Perhaps I'll need to search for any missing persons report.
Pinching the bridge of his nose, V could feel his brows creasing in stress. There weren't many news pertaining to crimes happening in Laterano aside from ones done on accident or good faith (considering how enamored Sankta were to explosions), but... there have been once, or twice, news of a missing individual.
Clicking his tongue, he began to scroll through his phone.
Learning to navigate this... 'social media' and 'intranet' was seldom an endeavour when he first gained access to it. A birthday gift from Ms. Aldana, he recalled. Thankfully, he was just as clueless as his peers and contemporaries for their age, and nobody was there to ridicule him for his antiquated self.
He remembered vividly how Nero would perk a brow whenever he asked—as V—what he was doing with his, 'rectangular light-emitter.'
"Dude, do you not know what a phone is?" Nero would speak with a gaped mouth.
"I know what a phone is Nero, that is no phone I've ever recalled seeing," V vehemently defended himself, attempting to bring up a plausible excuse.
"Damn... I didn't know you were like that. Cause, uh, you sorta look young, you know?" The one-armed Devil Hunter scratched the back of his neck. "Guess you're more aged than you look... old-timer."
...Vergil was quite behind in technology. Such was the plight forced upon him for being trapped in Hell for decades.
How droll.
He unamusedly thought to himself.
***
Lemuen could see the swaying trees billowed by the wind's whims, the recent change in weather doing nothing to ease her current anxieties piling atop themselves. Her fingertips scratched the hardcover of the textbook she held.
Her eyes had been drifting toward trees, bushes, alleyways, and anywhere where darkness or shadows followed. She didn't feel secure in any capacity, thus acting more prudent than she remembered ever doing.
The only solace she had was moving in large crowds of people... but even then, unsuspecting gazes sent her way—even if innocuous—became even more worrisome for her. It wasn't like this before. It was never like this.
"Are you sleep deprived?"
"Eep!" Lemuen jolted when a hand was placed on her shoulder, dropped her book, and when she swiveled around to—
"Lemuen?" The voice of Mostima shattered her defensive instincts for a moment, before she saw her in full.
A raspberry-haired Sankta with a cool demeanor tilted her head with somewhat scrunched brows. She was already in the process of picking up her dropped book, lifting it up and handing it back. Wordlessly, Lemuen received it back.
More eyes from the passing crowd had looked at the scene.
"Looks like a lack of sleep's got you all jumpy. Let's sit somewhere comfortable, come on." Mostima patted Lemuen on the shoulder, the latter gobsmacked for a moment before she shook her head and followed along.
"Haha... you really got me there." Lemuen shifted to a more heartfelt smile, disguising her previous shock behind that veil. "You won't scare me again like that any other time."
"Yeah, yeah, but you really are lacking sleep, aren't you?" Mostima said, snapping her fingers with a glance back. "I can tell."
"Everybody can probably tell... don't need to be a Sankta," Lemuen mumbled, shaking her head.
"So..." Mostima drawled. "What's got you like this?"
Lemuen chewed over her words for the briefest of moments when asked the question, mind coming to a daze. Images of multiple scenes phased through her mind, flashing like a projector light through film. She wished she hadn't, because she almost shivered at that multi-eyed, winged effigy crafted straight from a horror movie.
"Just some horror movie, nothing really," Lemuen quickly responded.
Mostima's steps slowed as she, in the literal sense, felt the other's emotions. "Really? You got this scared by a movie?" She blinked a few times.
"I know... I watched a million of them, sure, but this one got me good. Really, really good, like you were in the experience yourself kind of good. I wouldn't even show it to El if she grows up. Nope. Not at all." In all intents and purposes, even Lemuen herself knew, but she was deflecting. "I got nightmares all night."
"Jeez. If it's got you shook up like that, then recommend it to me and Fia." Mostima spoke, intrigued. "Would make for an amazing late night group watch, yeah?"
Lemuen bit the interior of her mouth, still splaying a smile. "No way. I wouldn't even wish for V to experience something like that. Sorry, but it's gatekept."
"Look who's the spoilsport now." Mostima rolled her eyes.
The two eventually made their way to a bench as Lemuen sat down with a sigh, clenching her hands tighter to stop them from shaking. Deep breaths she took, deep breaths...
"How's prep for the shooting competition coming up?" Mostima questioned Lemuen, slightly swaying her legs.
"...Drat, you just reminded me of something," Lemuen sulked after a moment of realization, for more reasons than one.
"And that happens to be...?"
"I forgot to ask V if he wanted to go see it." The pink-haired Sankta drooped, Fluorescent Light—her halo—dimming.
Mostima felt a connection from it, thrumming. "What? Looking to impress him?"
"He's not impressed by anything," she corrected, eyes turning skyward. "Except when I make him a Berry Delight. He always has something nice to say about that, for some reason."
"A Berry Delight? That's kinda basic, no?"
"I know, right? If I try to add anything extra to the ingredients, he becomes such a food critic it hurts my heart." Her eyes never once left the clouds she was staring at.
"Same goes for Fia, just saying. Also... you're still shaken up...?" Mostima pointed out.
"I am? Meh, I probably am." Lemuen shrugged. "Can't do much about it. It was a really good movie. Or bad, maybe I should call it bad for how much it's done me in."
Mostima contemplated what could have been going haywire with the pink-haired Sankta's life—a movie wouldn't do her in that bad, seriously. Prefect duties? Unlikely, considering how fast she'd breeze through them. V skipping classes again? He hadn't done something like that presently. Shooting competition? Yeah, as if. The only person from another school who could contend with her was Federico.
She wasn't one to care much for expectations, anyway... unless it was with V.
"You hungry?" Mostima decided to shift the subject, checking her phone. "We've still got plenty of time to grab a meal. And you can also text V on the way."
"Yeah, it would be nice to eat something. I don't have any prefect activities today aside from the usual, 'looking for a student skipping'... thankfully," Lemuen muttered in the last part.
"Watch it be V again," the blue-haired Sankta hummed in her predictions.
"Yeah... watch it be him again..." Lemuen gave a short laugh alongside the other Sankta, but could feel the muscles in her mouth tense at the mention.