Acura Kazimono tore his hood off and hurled it to the ground with the sort of spite he reserved only for himself. It was that special wellspring of loathing that existed only for him, the judgemental distaste of a man on a mission who had failed on his mission. It did him no good to applaud the firebrand girl or the quick-thinking anchor-drop. Making excuses like that - blaming others for his failure - would make him weak.

     The bags under his eyes as he stared into the mirror told him all the story he needed. He forgot to reload because he was tired.

     He forgot to reload.

     Acura punched the mirror. It shattered under his gauntlet, the broken reflection sprinkling to the ground around him. What did he care for seven more years bad luck? He had already seen the horrors of this world were made by men and would-be monsters. The world is a vast, uncaring, apathetic place.

     His hand withdrew. He took off the gauntlet, tossing it to the ground. Then the other. Then the boots. "Coffee," he said to the air. "Grind beans from the third planter today. Make it strong. I have work to do."

     The blood he carefully scraped from his jacket into the Aixgear. The shield lit up as he docked it into place. It would read for a few hours, then analyze, then deconstruct, then reconstruct. That gave him a few hours to...

     To push.

     +Coffee+ his room said back. He walked over and plucked the mug - #1 Brother - from the canister. It was piping hot, and dark, and bitter. The bitterness filled him. Warmed him. Reenergized him. This is what he'd been too long with out.

     Acura took off the jacket and breastplate. He upended the cup and let the fire roll down his throat. It was penance. It was penance for his failure. Delicious, bitter black penance. It wasn't the first planter's perfectly-roasted beans. It was the third, the penance beans.

     He had penance beans. He looked at the broken mirror with a wry smile. Dammit. That was such a stupid thought. He *was* slipping.

     He headed upstairs, away from the tiny, secret room and into the opulent, empty mansion, cup in hand, dressed in a loose-fitting school uniform, a labcoat, and an untied tie. He checked the time. It was morning. His attire was appropriate.

     "Good morning, Master," Nori said with a bow, "Michiru is doing better today. I brought her over to visit."

     Acura nodded. "Thank you, Nori."

     Acura stepped through the glass doors, letting exhaustion, hate, and fury wash away as the sight of his sister. He sat down across from her, ran his hand through her hair, and smiled as the Demon of God melted away in the bright sunroom, and Acura Kazimono had a fleeting moment of happiness to make the bitter night all the more worth fighting for.