A Curse Upon Thee 3-9A

Great. Finn stepped over a shattered cinderblock, soles scraping against powder and grit as he glanced around. Perfect spot for a barbecue.

“You are certain it’s here.”

It wasn’t much of a question at all, really. No little uptick to the end that would have had him ready with an answer, serious or not.

“Well…” That didn’t do much to stop him either way. “The paper said it was here.”

Southern edge of Kyoto. The paper in question was three pages spat out from the fax at their nearest konbini, Finn only reading the first before making up his mind. Index estimate: High Two.

It was almost a boring matchup, given that he was pretty sure anything under a Four on that Index topped out at a hard Grade Two Curse. Sure, it came with a fat payout — an expected half-million yen or so — but that wasn’t why he was here.

The end of the first page had a little note that had his eyes snap down to it and stay there long enough for Mal to poke him back to the real world. Subject vocalized threats and requests for food.

It could talk. It talks.

Most Devils Finn had the pleasure of beating couldn’t — or wouldn’t — talk with Meathook being one of the few to go against the grain, in more than just strength. Even when they did talk, they didn’t have much to say outside of barely-random rambling.

But… vocalized threats and requests for food. That didn’t sound random at all. 

And the fact that the witnesses said full sentences on top of that? That means it can answer questions.

“Hmm. Scarface couldn’t call this time, huh?”

“You…” His head tilted with a nod back at Mal as they properly entered the works yard, the place closed long enough that the weeds coming up through the concrete would look like a corn maze to the girl given a few more years interrupted. Rust and motor oil stained the ground and scented the whole of the place, the air sour and surprisingly stuffy despite the breeze. “You’ve gotta let of whatever you’ve got against Michiko.”

A grunt sounded off right behind him. “I don’t trust her.”

“Fine, sure, but like..” His shoulders rose and fell as he let a sigh free. “I’m pretty sure she doesn’t trust us either, I mean. We’re weird foreigners in her country with weird powers. Where’s the trust supposed to come from?”

Mal didn’t seem to argue that but, from the way those nine-buckled boots clicked behind his back, Finn could tell she was far from letting this go. “Ugghhh. There is water everywhere.”

Or maybe she would find something new to whine about. “Then don’t stand in the puddles, Mal.”

“Do you not know what everywhere me-”

Finn’s eye twitched as a sound hit his ears, something to their left. “Mal.”

“Wha-”

Pallets to their left came apart at once, those twitching eyes going wide at the sight of something red-brown rushing his way. Low to the ground, its body was a blur across several dozen feet of flooded concrete; a sheet of water spraying up in front of it.

Finn got his forearm up at the last minute, teeth clenched tight before a scream could escape them. Teeth scraped leather, a bare-instant of pain enough to light up other instincts, and his free arm struck out.

Almost as quick as its forward motion, the thing went back and into a lift column, the impact enough to make the whole structure tremble.

The thing landed back down on the ground, motion unsteady and tender but finally in one place long enough for Finn to- Jesus, that’s ugly.

Going off one of Tendo-san’s explanations, a Devil’s name was pretty important to it or… no, a Devil’s name was important because they were born from the fear of the thing. And, on top of that, they got stronger the more scared people were of that thing.

Standing in the yard, Finn couldn’t deny that the name Mongrel was on point.

Starved through the middle, the thing was greyhound-thin and then some, ribs literally poking through skin, fur, and the mange on top of both. Whole patches of hide didn’t exist, just dark red meat showing underneath like it had been skinned in pieces by some dog-groomer with a habit for sadism. It didn’t help one bit that it looked like a dog put together by somebody who’d only ever had one described to it, and then had a nightmare about that description; back legs mastiff-built and thicker than his own while the front legs were thin and trembling like someone had stretched out a chihuahua — and then given it fingers.

Ears and eyes — too many and in rows of mismatched rows of three — stretched up and past the side of a skull that had a bite taken out of it, the jaw to the thing split into three uneven sections; each of those sections opening up past the dog-teeth—

…alright.

—to show a small pair of almost-human lips.

“Ohhhh…” Those lips moved, Finn’s eye twitching at the half-laugh, half-panting wheeze that made up its voice. “Oh, oh, oh, this one’s got…” It sniffed the air, too-big nostrils flaring as a tail flashed behind it, thick and thin in varied, unequal parts; bone, muscle and blood-splattered fur dragging it down at the tip. “This one’s got some fire to him. Yes, yes, y-yes, I smell you.”

Yeah… Finn pulled his Cursed Energy tight under his skin and let it flare, red running up and over across his hands and body. There it is.

Those six ears went flat, all those eyes narrowing at once. “He warms up!” Even with the clear tension, the Devil laughed loud; a breathy thing that broke off into a cough. “He warms up for me! Very pol—!”

It came in low again, seven feet of height crouched to almost half that as it tore over wet concrete in a missile of mange.

Two steps left, Finn let the jaws close in on nothing — clawed chihuahua paw-hand scraping across asphalt. Black soles snapped out in a kick to the side of its skull, a fist coming up a split-second later with just as much force — maybe a quarter of what he could really do.

Even still, the creature folded around his hits, the second enough to send it skidding sideways until it hit a half-sunken slab.

Okay. He rolled his wrist. So you can take a hit.

“Finn…” A musical voice called from behind him.

“Yes, Mal?”

“What are you doing?”

“Nothing…” He flexed his fingers, five forming a fist again. “Just… nothing.”

“But yo-”

"Stay behind me and let me work."

"Boku was going t—"

"Behind. Me."

He knew what she was getting at, obviously. Sandbagging like he was couldn’t be any more obvious when she’d seen him punch hard enough to blast right through an old mortar wall, and that wasn’t even getting into his kicks. I got this.

Hell, if he really wanted to, he’d just light up and be done in a half-minute tops; a Kindle Kyaku cracking through those thin ribs, or even a few hard cuts with Slaughter Demon enough to solve all his problems. 

That was the thing, though.

He didn’t want to.

His dagger still sheathed at his waist, Finn caught a foreleg as the Devil came at him in a quick charge, spindly limb surprisingly strong. 

Even still, one shoulder under the joint, Finn jerked up with both hands and the foreleg went the wrong way at the elbow; a wet crack he heard through his own bones. The devil screamed out of all three mouths at once, three pitches in three different dog sounds stacked atop one another.

It thrashed.

Even as he let go and jumped back before those back legs could get at him, it thrashed in pain on the ground. It sounded too close to the actual animal it was based on, Finn almost flinching at the thing’s yelps of pain— What are you doing?

He shook his head as the thing dragged itself up, the Mongrel Devil staring back at him with three working limbs. “Alright…” Finn rolled his shoulder. “Now talk.”

“Talk…” The devil spat something from those human lips. “Talk, fire boy says, with my… my arm like this—”

“You want the second one to match?”

It came at him, three legs charging and three maws barking, but Finn didn’t let it get a chance to take its pound of flesh. Ugh! Desperately wishing he’d worn gloves, he grabbed a fistful of loose skin at the back of the Mongrel’s neck, fur falling apart in his grip, and threw it.

Fifteen feet and another good meter later, the monster landed against a section of fallen steel fencing half-buried in silk and sunken into an impromptu pond. The rest of the panel crashed atop the monster, chain-link and frame tightening as it dragged itself deeper.

There we go. Not planned but definitely not unappreciated, either.

Finn crossed the water as quick as he could, but it didn’t do much to protect the hem of his slacks. the hem of his slacks soggy by the time he put his sole atop the frame. The Devil writhed some more, snarling and splashing as his foot pressed harder.

All it took to get it to calm down — at least a little — was a quick snap-kick to the ribs, another pained howl sounding out.

"...you are dragging this out."

Mal had the parasol down as Finn looked over his shoulder, green-gold eyes flicking from him to the pinned Devil and back again.

"Yeah."

"On purpose."

He glanced back at the devil. "Yep."

"Why?"

"Because I…” Finn leaned down, more weight on his front leg as he stared the malformed Mongrel in the face. “...got some questions." 

– o – o – o – o – o – o – o –

That’s (Not) Entrapment – 200 GP
Capture a Devil.

FAIL: Legend — 600 GP
Worm CYOA v17 | Destruction

Grimoire Points: 500