Tobio Ikuse, better known as the Slash Dog, or occasionally Fallen Dog God, stood behind the counter in the Black Dog Bar.
With a small smile on his face, he wipes a glass in his hands down with a cloth.
Truly, he's already wiped this particular glass down…maybe something like four times? But it's not like he has much else he can do otherwise.
At his part-time job here, things have been rather slow.
A few people here and there come in for drinks and food, mostly die-hard regulars who enjoy his cooking, and most haven't even been supernatural.
To be fair, he knows why that is.
Most of the time it's usually much busier, they get more supernatural than mundane customers on average, but due to the whole thing with the Grigori, and them moving from the organization, things have slowed and people stopped showing until everything settles.
In Tobio's mind, he honestly kind of prefers it this way.
Not to say he despises his supernatural job and responsibilities, but the Grigori aren't the most, shall he say, restrained in deploying him and his team.
Even for rather silly and stupid things.
Like that time Azazel tried to convince them to raid some Heavenly Institute for Gabriel's…undergarments.
The thought alone makes Tobio pause, staring half-lidded across the empty bar.
He still remembers the face Azazel made after all the girls took turns slapping him.
In any case, he hopes that with the Shinto's more isolationist nature, there will be less of all that and more time to dedicate to his and his team's personal lives.
Such as University! That was going well!
Maybe, if things keep going so well, he'll be able to open up his restaurant like he wanted…
He chuckled softly as his mind strayed to Sae in a waitress outfit.
Maybe spending so much time around Azazel had affected him?
Ah well, all the more inspiration, he guessed.
He perked up, as a low chime suddenly rang out throughout the bar.
Looking towards the source, the door, he finds an older man, perhaps in his sixties or so, balding and wrinkled yet with a kindly smile on his weathered face.
"Ah, I know it's late, young man, but are you still open?" The man asked.
Tobio eyed the clock for a second, then nodded.
"For a little while longer, but I still would have let you in anyway," Tobio smiled softly, "it's rather cold out, and I wouldn't let you stand out there freezing."
The old man gave a genuine smile, stepping in and closing the door behind him, "Thank you. You're most kind."
Tobio waved him off, "Don't mention it. Please, have a seat."
Reaching under the counter, Tobio pressed a button, locking the doors.
"Can I get you something warm?" He continued with an eye-to-eye smile.
The old man shambled to the counter, and sat, slumping over slightly, "What would you recommend?"
Tobio turned toward the rack of drinks behind him, his smile never leaving his face.
"Hmm…I could mix you up an Umetini?" Tobio offered.
"Ah, gin…" the old man smiled, "it's been a while since I've had some of that."
"I suppose you Shinigami don't get out much then, hmm?" Tobio idly noted.
The bar was suddenly plunged into silence.
"Damn…" the 'old man' wheezed out, "didn't even make it past the front door hidden, did I? You know…" he moved his head slightly, moving his neck away from the pitch black scythe blade that suddenly seemed to manifest around him.
"You're one scary young man, Fallen Dog God…" the 'old man' rasped out, staring at Tobio, who all of sudden turned back to him, the handle of said scythe held aloft with a single hand.
The Longinus possessor never stopped smiling, even as he drew the blade slightly closer to the man's neck.
"It was your eyes. Your eyes gave it away." Tobio remarked, without a hint of smugness, as he merely stated fact.
The old man's eyes…were completely dead. Glossed over, hazed.
This old man is a corpse.
The Death Kami clicked his body's tongue, "This was the closest vessel I could find on such short notice…, Lord Susanoo should be praising me, I enacted his orders so quickly." He huffed, annoyed.
Tobio briefly recalled Suzaku's lecture on Shinigami all those years ago.
Right. They can't materialize on the Earthly Plane like normal Grim Reapers, because they would corrupt or kill anything they touch.
The Shinigami 'Aura of Death' is unique, however, not that it kills directly, but because it makes the victims want to kill themselves.
Plants suddenly stop taking in water, stop making sugar, and starve themselves to death.
Humans jump off buildings, and bridges, or otherwise find some way to kill themselves as quickly as possible.
So instead, they possess a vessel to keep that aura contained, usually living as that's most efficient, but here…
In the back of his mind, an insidious thought creeps into the back of his mind.
What if he fell on his scythe?
He slaps that thought away without an ounce of hesitation, and instead, fills his mind of things that he'd stay alive for.
Mostly Sae, but he wouldn't tell everyone that.
"Oh?" The Shinigami gave him a toothy grin, "You're good, catching that so quic-"
He stopped talking, as the scythe blade pressed against 'his' throat.
The scythe blade seemed to hum, a powerful thrum resonating throughout the darkness as its very nature seemed to shift.
The Shinigami paled the color of the corpse he wore.
He would be able to sense it, wouldn't he?
At this wavelength, the power in his scythe would tear apart the Shinigami in a single stroke, leaving his puppet body entirely unharmed.
"Give me one good reason I shouldn't consign you to oblivion and free that man's body back to his rest." Tobio intoned coldly.
"Your grandmother." The corpse hissed out entirely too fast, too afraid.
Tobio paused, blinking.
He decided he didn't much like that joke.
So then, he moved to annihilate the errant Death Kami with a single stroke.
"Wait wait wait!" The Shinigami flailed 'his' arms around, right before the blade made spiritual contact, "My Lord! The King of Yomi! He has her soul!"
Tobio froze.
"...What." Was all he could muster in that moment.
"Yes, yes." The Shinigami breathed out, emboldened and relieved, "He sent me, to tell you of this fact, and to offer a rather simple…er, hmm, not bargain, perhaps a deal?"
This isn't a joke, is it? A lie?
No. It couldn't be, right? They just joined the Shinto, so what could this be? A test?
He always knew Lord Susanoo disliked them, but he could never figure out why.
Maybe it was because of their relation to the Grigori? He knows not a lot of people like the Fallen and their ilk after all.
So, maybe a test of loyalty then?
"What kind of…deal." Tobio drew out, coldly, gaze fixed like stone upon the Shinigami.
The Death God shivered at his tone, before continuing, "My Lord wants something in exchange for the return of her soul, either to her rightful place of rest or…to the living, should you do well."
Tobio's heart hurt at that.
That…to see his grandmother again…after so, so long…
"Really…?" He muttered, low voice cracking slightly.
The Shinigami nodded, "My Lord is many things, but a liar is not one of them."
Tobio bit his lip, contemplating those words.
Something feels off. About all of this. Yet, he can't quite place it…
In the end, the only real way to find out what's going on is to confront the man himself, isn't it?
Taking a deep steadying breath, Tobio answered, "Something like this…is far too important for a talk as simple as this." He narrows his eyes upon the Death Kami, "Take me to him. To Lord Susanoo. I want to see what he has to say for himself."
To his surprise, and slight unease, the Shinigami smiles at that, and nods, "That can be arranged, Fallen Dog God."
The corpse then held out its hand, "Better not keep the Lord waiting, if you're so inclined, the sooner we head to Yomi the less likely he'll…do something unwarranted."
Like hurt her?
The corpse, somehow, someway, sweated a single drop as all the shadows in the bar suddenly erupted with obsidian blades, coated in red and black god-killing fire.
"I…don't get paid enough for this shit…" The Shinigami muttered and damn near whimpered.
Within a moment, the storm of blades vanished, and Tobio took the Kami's hand, prompting him to flinch at the small smile stretched across the Slash Dog's face.
"Well, we wouldn't want that, would we?" Tobio asked, nonchalantly.
The Shinigami shook his head back and forth rapidly in apt agreement.
In Tobio's mind, this shouldn't take long, anyway.
In that next instance, Tobio felt a pull, and the world swirled into dullness and darkness.
He stood amongst a dark, dreary reflection of the bar, without a Shinigami in sight.
Walking out, the world would be much the same, without even a sky.
It was at this moment that he realized however, he had no idea where to go.
So, he wondered.
With only the company of Jin, his Sacred Gear, he walked across what felt like the entirety of this dark reflection of Japan.
None of the dead would talk to him.
He ate or drank nothing, knowing at the very least that was a terrible idea.
And he couldn't sleep, as whenever he tried, he felt something wearing down his body and soul, requiring his consciousness and Jin to keep that feeling away.
Time blurred together. He didn't know how long he was there.
Until, one day, a hurricane suddenly erupted across the land, laced with divine power…
And he knew what he'd find at its center.