22 Still Can't Live

It was pity that made Michael stop in front of the bench.

His guards had swept Kuoh thoroughly and had reported no anomalies of concern in the lead-up to the Peace Conference. Except, that is, for the human boy sitting on the bench well within the devils' wards around the school.

After initial scans, even going so far as to approach, they had determined him to be nothing more than a human. One without any magic or Sacred Gear. Thanks to their constant exposure to Heaven's system, angels were much better at sensing such things.

Despite determining the boy to be of little to no importance, Michael's guards still dutifully reported the oddity to the Seraph.

It was Irina Shidou, one of the church agents and a participant in the Kokabiel incident, who had accurately guessed who it was.

Eren Yeager. The Child of Evil. A former child soldier and mercenary living out his last days in Kuoh.

A human that was friends with the devil scions but remained largely unaware of the supernatural world, according to Irina, who had spoken to the Red Dragon Emperor on the subject.

Apparently, the exorcist had been concerned for her former partner, Xenovia, and inquired about the subject with her childhood friend.

Hearing that the boy had managed to injure Griselda, even if thanks to trickery, was interesting. But the fact that he lacked anything that would make him a threat had reassured Michael's security that they had made the correct call to leave the human alone.

Not so for the leader of Heaven himself.

Michael had memorized every word his Father had ever spoken to him and never forgot the particular importance God had placed on how wonderous and terrible humanity's potential could be. He was to never overlook them.

So he asked more questions.

And hadn't liked the answers.

Sadness overwhelmed the Seraph. 

Sadness at the world that would allow a child so young to face the horrors of war. Sadness at the unfairness of it all that even after going through so much, the boy was still denied a long, happy life.

It was a familiar sadness. 

A deep, all-consuming melancholy at the daily tragedies of a world without God.

And then the regret came.

Regret because there was nothing Michael could do. If even Twilight Healing, one of the greatest of his Father's works, failed to save the boy, it would take a miracle to cure Eren Yeager.

And miracles from Heaven were in short supply.

They had been waiting on one themselves for so long.

So, moved by pity, Michael met the boy on the bench.

"Do you mind if I take a seat," the Seraph asked the Devil.

"You're free to do what you want," the Devil answered with a shrug.

"Thank you." Michael sat down, his overly elaborate robes of office dragging along the dirt as he took his seat, yet they remained pristine white. 

He let out a breath of air as he leaned back, gazing towards the sky. Unlike the boy beside him, Michael could see it, bright blue taking on a darker hue as the sunset.

They sat in silence, taking their rest as they each watched a world the other couldn't see.

It was Michael who spoke first.

"What brings you here, young man?"

"Waiting."

"For what?"

"A meeting I was promised."

"With whom?"

"I'll know when I meet them."

The pair lapsed back into silence.

Michael let it stretch longer this time. He knew he was under observation by both his guards and the other factions, but he did not mind. He could not remember the last time he took a break, even for as short a time as this. 

It was the most relaxed he had been in centuries.

Eventually, Michael knew he had to leave the bench, to return to a world without God, so he got around to the reason for his visit.

"Are you a religious man, my friend?"

"No."

"Through lack of opportunity or lack of belief."

"Yes."

Michael's smile, soft and comforting, took on a wry note.

"Even in your... condition?" Michael asked gently. "If you will pardon a bit of rudeness, you do not look well."

"If I changed who I was just because I was about to die, it wouldn't be out of faith," Eren said simply, not bothered by the allusion to his sickly appearance. "It would be cowardice."

"It is not cowardly to seek salvation," the Seraph chided gently. "There is nothing wrong with entrusting your soul to a greater power. In praying for an afterlife. A better life."

"There is," Eren said, this time with a note of steel in his dull voice. "It makes you cattle. When you give up your freedom for safety, you deserve neither."

"I take it you don't believe in God and the afterlife, then?" Michael asked, giving up the pretext of subtlety. Eren Yeager seemed to be the type to appreciate blunt honesty.

"Whether they exist or not does not matter."

"Why do you say that?"

"If God exists, she either allows the world to be like this, makes the world like this, or is helpless to change the world. Either way, believing in her or not does not change whether she is real or her effect on me and the world."

"Her? You believe God to be a woman?"

Eren didn't answer, and seeing as he wasn't going to be able to continue that train of conversation, Michael steered it back on course.

"What of the afterlife?" The Seraph asked curiously. "Why does its existence not matter?"

"Because if it doesn't exist, I will cease to exist as well when I die," Eren said simply, but there was something in his emotionless voice, some note that Michael picked up on thanks to his millennia of life.

"And if it does?"

"Then I am going to hell, and nothing I say or do will change that."

The certainty in the boy's words broke Michael's heart.

The world was a cruel place. A terrible place. A place where a child was forced to commit heinous acts just to survive.

That was why he was here. Why the Seraph was taking a few minutes out of his day to talk to a dying boy.

Michael would forever disappoint his Father if he failed to extend the one hand he could offer.

"That is not true," Michael said with certainty. "No matter your actions, guilt, or crimes, it is never too late to find salvation. I am a priest, of a sort. I can take your confession. If you dedicate yourself to repentance and atonement, I am certain you can find a better place in the next life."

Michael had seen the worst sinners weep in repentance and live out their days as saints. He had seen monsters turn into heroes.

The Seraph had seen the worst of humanity turn into its best.

Only those who knew the dark could truly appreciate the light.

Michael did not know the extent of Eren Yeager's sins. Such an ability was beyond even him, and a single file and testimony from his church exorcists was not enough information to render judgment.

Only when the boy stood before the Pearly Gates would he be judged by his Father's system. 

Until then, Michael could not know for sure if someone was destined for paradise or damnation.

What Michael did know was that the Gates of Heaven would always be open.

Michael was not God.

Michael's name meant 'Like God,' not God himself. He was a poor substitute. 

But on one point, he was absolutely sure.

The one point of the System his Father had put in place that Michael had unwavering confidence in. That he had maintained perfectly despite every other failure of his.

Because of his ineptitude, Michael might allow flaws in the Divine system. The likes of the Holy Sword Project could be laid at his feet for his inability to match God. 

Asia Argento had been excommunicated from the church because of his weakness. Xenovia Quarta had been exiled because news of God's death could not be allowed to spread lest chaos and fear reign. 

But, until either had become devils, they had never been beyond Heaven's blessing, the one reward they could give that was wholly theirs.

There was only one place where Michael's hubris allowed him to acknowledge that Michael might, in some minuscule way, compare to his deceased Father.

For the truly faithful, those who did good, who regretted their sins and strove for salvation, the Pearly Gates would always be open.

No man was without sin.

It was those who repented, who strove to be better, that walked Heaven's Halls.

That was why Michael was meeting with Eren.

Not to heal him, for he could not.

Not to convert him, for he should not.

But to save him, in the only way he could.

If Eren took the chance the highest Seraph was giving him, if he confessed his sins and spent his remaining time on earth dedicated to others, to balance out the bad with the good, then he too might walk those golden halls one day.

Sins are never forgotten. 

But they can be forgiven.

It was up to the dying boy to make the first step. 

All Michael could do was extend a hand.

But Eren Yeager, the Child of Evil, could not see that hand.

He was blind to everything but the Path he chose to walk. 

For good or ill.

"My confession?" The dying boy asked a note of disbelief in his placid voice. "What a useless thing. Will my confession bring the dead back? Will it give the living the vengeance they want? Will it change what I have done?"

"Nothing will change the past," Michael said sombrely, knowing rejection was the most likely outcome when he came here. 

But he had to try. 

He owed it to his Father. To his brother and sisters. To the beliefs they held within their hearts. To humanity.

He owed it to the dead. The countless mountain of corpses he and his comrades had tread across to reach this day. 

He owed it to those faces who looked to Heaven and found not God but a pale imitation. 

He owed them all to always have this one hand extended.

Peace was imminent. Why could salvation not be as well? 

"Your sins are your own. All we can do is change the future. It is there that we might balance the scales away from evil."

"There are not scales in heaven or hell large enough to weigh the evil I have done."

Michael felt his gentle smile twist into one of regret and pain.

He was not diminishing what the boy had gone through. Michael could see it in the tenseness of the boy's body when he arrived. He could hear it in the exhaustion in the boy's voice. He could feel it in the aura of pain, anger and guilt that seemed to radiate from the dying boy as they talked.

Eren Yeager was not naive, ignorant, or even childish.

But he was young. 

It was the privilege of the young to believe they were unique and that their circumstance had never happened before and would never happen again.

It was the privilege of the old to know that the world did not work like that.

And Michael was very, very old.

The blood on Eren's hands could not compare to the ocean that dripped from Michael's spear.

"Even were that the case," Michael allowed, well knowing that a young man's pride was fragile. "Would it not be better to make the attempt? To do enough good to outweigh the bad? To repent and-"

"Repent?" 

Eren cut off the greatest angel with clear anger in his voice. 

The first clear display of emotion the Seraph had heard from the boy. 

Michael actually had to waive his guards down when they made to say something. They wouldn't have hurt the boy, but they would have made their displeasure at his rude interruption known.

"I repent nothing. I regret. I endlessly regret it. But I shall never repent. To repent is to stop moving forward. To try and undo the choices I made. To trample on the hearts they dedicated. I will burn in hell for all eternity before I repent for even one footstep of mine. Because to try and repent is to spit on all the dead I trampled on."

Ah.

Michael understood now.

He had made a mistake.

Despite his best efforts and despite the warnings of his Father so long ago about humanity, Michael had underestimated Eren Yeager.

"Confess? Repent? It's shit like this why I can't stand you religious types. You can't take responsibility for your own actions. Always trusting others to do it for you."

Eren Yeager was not some traumatized child soldier forced to confront the horrors of the world at a too-young age. He was not a young man dying so far before his time that he lamented the unfairness of the world.

Nor was he a child of pure evil. He was not a monster unrepentant of his actions or the atrocities he committed.

Eren Yeager was not a boy who wished for salvation.

"If I do evil, it is because I choose to. If I do good, it is because I want to. Not because of some arbitrary rules from old fuc-"

Michael's pity overwhelmed his propriety, and it was his turn to interrupt the boy's angry tirade to ask the question.

"Would you do it again?"

Eren's mouth clicked shut, teeth clenching.

"Knowing the sins you'd commit, the deaths at your hands and the evil you'd inflict? Would you do it again?"

"Yes." The answer was bit out through clenched teeth as his fists curled on his cane hard enough to creak the wood. "Over and over and over and over again. A million times over. Even if I could change the past, I wouldn't. I would do it all again."

"Then you have my apologies." Michael stood from the bench and bowed to the human. "I interrupted your day with pointless preaching. I hope you will forgive me."

For a long second, Eren seemed at a loss for words. The anger was still there, but it was confused, as if he didn't know how to direct it. Michael maintained his bow, even as his guards shifted in the air until the boy spoke.

"It's not worth apologizing for," Eren sagged against the bench as the anger left him, and the strength went with it. "I am more... emotional these days than I should be."

Michael stood from his bow with his usual gentle smile. 

He noted, wryly, that Eren had never said he forgave him or that the boy was sorry for his anger.

"Thank you for entertaining my questions," the Seraph said instead of pointing it out. "It has been nice to relax in comfort for a few minutes. I hope you find peace."

Michael's guards started to signal him as Eren answered.

"Peace always comes after war."

"Well said," Sirzechs Lucifer responded with a smile as he entered the clearing with the bench.

He, too, was in ceremonial robes, and Michael saw his companions tense as the Crimson Satan approached. 

Sirzechs was only accompanied by his wife and Queen rather than the contingent of guards Michael's siblings had foisted on him. Grayfia Lucifuge, dressed as a maid as always, looked over the blind boy with a critical eye, her face as cold as her magic.

Michael gestured for his hidden compatriots to calm themselves. They could do nothing to the Super-Devil and would only serve to slow his Queen down.

Besides, they were here for peace.

Eren Yeager had no idea he was currently in a clearing with the replacements for Lucifer and God.

"Who are you?" Eren asked bluntly.

"Sirzechs," Lucifer, far from being offended by the tone, laughed lightly as he greeted the dying boy. "Rias' brother, in case she's mentioned me."

"She hasn't."

It was below a Seraph to take pleasure in suffering, but lying was also a sin, so Michael admitted, to himself, if no one else, that seeing the leader of the devils wilt in despair was genuinely amusing.

"Ria-tan is just shy. She's proud of her big brother. She is. She'll tell yo-" the former Gremory said with a slightly pained expression as his wife subtly pinched him. "Anyway, this is my wife, Grayfia. You must be Eren Yeager. Rias has told me so much about you."

"Greeting, Mr. Yeager," the second strongest female devil executed a perfect curtsy even if the boy couldn't see her. "It is a pleasure to meet you."

"My bench is very popular today," Eren said sarcastically as his hands tensed around his cane. "Why are you here, brother and sister of Rias?"

"As much as I would love to talk to you about my dear Ria-tan and what she's been up to," Sirzechs laughed again despite Eren's evident unease. "I am actually here for your companion. I hope you don't mind if I steal him away? We have business to attend to."

Michael again had to signal his guards not to do anything stupid at the devil's provocative words.

Must Sirzechs rile them up so much.

"Go ahead," Eren grunted. "I don't care."

"Thank you," Sirzechs said with his easy smile. "I hope you don't mind if I return some other day? To talk? I am always happy to get to know Rias' friends."

"I won't stop you."

"Until then."

Lucifer gave Michael a wave as Grayfia, the stickler for propriety, gave another curtsy that the blind boy couldn't see.

The Seraph also bid his farewells to the dying boy.

"It was a pleasure to meet you, Eren Yeager," Michael said formally. "Walk with the Lord's blessing."

Eren grunted in dismissal, tapping his cane on the ground rhythmically as his guests and their hidden entourage left him.

As soon as they left, they saw a small girl rush towards the clearing they had just left.

Upon seeing the pair, she froze.

"Don't mind us, Koneko-chan," Sirzechs waived the young girl by with a smile. "We were just taking a walk together before the meeting."

The young devil stared at the pair with wide, golden eyes.

Michael nodded in greeting.

She bowed as they walked by, much to Grayfia's silent pride. As soon as they were out of eyesight, Koneko resumed her run.

They heard her speedy footsteps, no matter how quiet she tried to be. They were some of the strongest beings on the planet.

Both men shared a smile.

As they were leaving the small forest park towards the school, the other students having long gone for the day, Sirzechs finally spoke up.

"I am surprised," the devil said lightly. "As I understand it, young Eren, back there is a figure of contention within your faction. I heard he's destroyed a few churches and even almost lamed one of your more experienced exorcists."

"She recovered without issue," Michael answered just as lightly. He knew how the game was played. "And we always offer salvation to those who would seek it. So long as he does not become a devil, our hands will always be extended."

Lucifer laughed as if Michael had told a joke.

They might be walking to a peace conference, but immortal beings like them had long memories. Just because they were doing what was best for their people and the world did not mean they forgot the friends and family they had lost at the other's hands.

Peace always came after war. 

And war always followed peace. 

Such was the nature of the world.

"If Eren ends up in heaven," Sirzechs said, still chuckling. "Rias will never let me hear the end of it. The Child of Evil? An Angel? There is some delicious irony there."

Michael didn't comment on the devil's blase handling of secrets. Every one of his guards was trustworthy. They knew that this peace conference was just a pretext. The actual negotiations had been going on behind the scenes for decades, and the terms had already been laid out.

One of the most significant benefits the angels would gain was a system similar to the Evil Piece system. A way to replenish their race that had been lost with his Father's death. 

It was also a key benefit for the fallen. More angels meant more that might fall, though that part went unsaid. 

The Brave Saint system was ready after long years of work from both Beelzebub and Azazel.

The leaders of the three factions had just been waiting for an excuse, a show they could put on for the others in their factions and the world.

Kokabiel had been that excuse, and this conference was that show.

"Eren Yeager will never be an angel."

"Oh? Why not?"

"Because it would be cruel," Michael answered, pity leaking into his voice. "Salvation only comes to those who search for it. And that boy never will. He does not regret his sins, so he cannot repent. He only regrets their necessity. He will never give them up. Would he become an angel, his sins would drag him down. He would fall instantly."

"I suppose that makes him the perfect devil, then," Sirzechs said lightly. "Rias will be happy."

"That would be crueller still," Michael shook his head. "If he could repent, he might take such a deal. Just as Eren cannot repent, so too can he not forgive himself. He is already in hell. Angel, fallen, or devil, it does not matter. Unless he learns to live again, death will be his only rest."

For a long moment, the group was quiet. Eventually, the Crimson Satan said one word.

"Good."

It was not a kind sentiment, and Michael gave his companion a challenging look. 

Sirzechs, for all his faults, was not a cruel devil. 

He would not wish a child suffering if it did not serve his interests.

But his interests were many and varied.

"Rias needs to learn to lose," the devil said. "Better it be someone she has only known for a short time and a death she can prepare for. Even if we have peace, a devil's life is never peaceful."

Michael's expression soured slightly.

They might be signing a peace treaty today, but he could never allow himself to forget just what kind of creatures devils were.

"By the way," Sirzechs continued, a grin forming on his face. "Please do not mention Eren in front of Serafall."

"Why not?" 

Michael hadn't actually planned on doing such, considering the matter with the blind boy done. He was also well aware of the Leviathan's... mercurial moods.

Especially with regards to the Seraphs.

"Her sister is sweet on the boy," Sirzechs smiled mischievously. "I don't know about you, but I don't want Leviathan going on a rampage during a peace conference out of jealousy."

"Ah," Michael blinked in surprise. "I see. Young love? And between the Sitri Heiress and a human? Is this the 'bad boy' appeal I hear so much about? I confess I do not understand such matters."

"Take a tragic backstory, a touch of danger, and wrap it all in a mystery? Human or devil, teenage girls lap that up," Sirzechs was nodding sagely. "How do you think I got- ow ow ow, Grayfia!"

Out of angelic kindness, Michael pretended not to notice the Crimson Devil's plight as his wife mercilessly pinched him.

It would be cruel to point out that the Queen had broken the etiquette she valued so highly. 

Such mercy was expected of a Seraph such as him.

Peace was on the horizon, he had taken his first rest in centuries, and Michael saw Sirzechs Lucifer get tormented by his wife.

For the first time in a very long time, the mantle on Michael's back, the weight on his wings, felt just a little lighter.

With such matters on his mind, Michael spent only a few moments of quiet prayer. He prayed that salvation would come for the boy on the bench.