My grandfather wrote a book called ‘My first deadman’.
Look, he’s getting older, and life hasn’t exactly been kind to him the past several years. It an interesting read, I swear!
I grew up watching him hand write that thing in composition notebooks at the coffee shop in the bookstore when he would babysit me after school. He poured his heart and soul into that thing, and published it in 2014. If anyone has the kindle unlimited thing, or $3 to spare, if you could go and buy it/ leave a review?
It’s ‘My First Deadman’ by Ray Ellis Holiday. It doesn’t have a proper cover photo, it’s just a guy in front of a vintage white car.
Sorry it took me so long to update this! Life got crazy, I feel like one of those fanfic writers who got hit by a bus lol.
Warning!!! Semi-graphic depictions of injured/dead child! read at your own risk, or skip the first italicized portion!
You’re running. She is too. Giggles float into the air like the fluff of a dandelion just wished upon. The grass is soft beneath your bare feet, the sun kisses your skin with her warmth, a breeze brushing through your hair as you keep chase. Your footprints overlap much smaller ones made just seconds before, larger ones overlapping your own just seconds after.
A smile is spread over three faces as the game of chase intensifies, a figure jumping clear over your own and landing feet in front of the instigator of said chase. The smallest figure, shielded by the bright sunlight from your vision, begins to laugh loudly as her father grabs her and takes off in a full sprint. You follow suit.
Everything is crimsom. There is a thick coating of the ugly color in the grass, on the bark of trees, on your hands. She lays in your arms, eyes having grown dark, her tiny body is so cold. Was she always this tiny? This fragile? Blood has foamed up and out of her mouth, dripping over her bruised face. Her chest is concave, pulling into itself. Golden magic is fluttering over her entire body. You feel how her ribs are cracked into pieces, how her jaw is completely dislocated, how her windpipe is crushed. The latter is completely unnecessary, as her little lungs could have never hopes to expand against the brutality which has taken place against her thoracic cavity. Medically, nothing could have helped her.
Majik. Majik could have. Majik could have saved your little girl, but he took it. Looking up, you see him syphoning it from you, feel him doing it. You scream for him to stop, even for just a moment, to let you save her. You sob and screech and plead and threaten. He just stares.
You sit up quickly with a gasp. You’re covered in sweat, tears streaming down your face. Amicus is startled by your sudden movement, but your terror quickly sends her on high alert. She scans the room with all five heads, each hissing and baring their own fangs in the face of an unseen danger. You pet over her body to calm her as you grip your shirt right over your heart. You’re shaking, completely thrown by your dream. It’s one you haven’t experienced in over two centuries.
As Amicus lowers her guard, you slowly, shakily, stand. Stumbling your way to your kitchen area, you turn your faucet on and shove your head under it, mouth open. The cool water on your face and in your stomach helps. Shutting off the sink, you follow its name and sink to the floor. You try to take deep breaths as you glance at the tiny clock on the stove reading 5:37 am. After a few moments you collect yourself from the floor and slowly make your way to the bathroom.
Looking in the mirror, you see tear streaks covering your face. Letting out a breath, you begin to wash your face. It was a nightmare, you’ve had it before, you can’t let it control you again. Another century of lying on the ground and refusing to move won’t change something that happened a millennium ago. That doesnt mean you wont take your sweet fucking time getting yourself together for the day, though. Forty-five minutes pass before you finally exit your bathroom, fully dressed for the day with fresh makeup covering your neck under the thick turtleneck style of your uniform.
Amicus stands tall in the hallway outside the bathroom door, acting as your not so mini guard. Walking past her to grab your bag, she slithers her way to the front door with you. Forgoing your coffee, you stick your key into the door and roughly yank it this way and that til you hear the resounding click to indicate that the door is ready. Taking a deep breath, you open the door into your classroom, students already seated and waiting ever so patiently.
If patiently can be described as Ryuji, or Bon as everyone seems to call him, and Rin having an all-out brawl in the middle of the room while everyone else shouts their opinions on it at them. Jaw dropped, you cannot help but just watch for a moment, amazed at the audacity of a group of absolutely idiotic teenagers gains when their teacher is a whole 30 seconds late. Amicus, of course, must be the adult in the situation for the moment. She has always been such a good girl.
Growing to her full size, Amicus wraps one neck each around both teens and lifts them several feet above the ground and, most importantly, away from each other. Yet again, you hear that girly as ever shriek, realizing this time it came from Shima.
Gaining your voice back in the wake of your shock, you shout at the two boys to shut it as they continue to scream at each other while trying to twist out of their binds to reach each other. Seeing that your shouting can't get through to them, and the giant hydra isn’t deterring them, you simply walk to your desk and place down your things. As the boys continue their, now only verbal, beatdown, you begin to write on the board.
In all honesty, you had no idea what you were going to teach today, you never finished your lesson plan from yesterday, and had no intention of finishing it this morning after the night you had. Winging it had always been more of your strong suit to begin with, so why not now?
As you finished writing points on the board, the class continued to become quieter and quieter. Finally turning around, you see all the other students now in their seats, aside from Shima, who now sits three full rows farther back than he had previously. Raising an eyebrow, you look at Rin and Bon. Both are still suspended in the air, weakly reaching for the other. If their lethargic movements didn’t tell you they had exhausted themselves, their sweat-soaked hair and clothes sure did. Raising your hand to Amicus as you nod lets her know to release them, and they tumble to the floor.
“Seats, now. Or neither of you will be on the training trip this weekend. Good luck trying to make that bullshit up later.”
Slowly standing, both boys half crawl to their seats, faces red in anger or embarrassment. Who knows, and who cares? As they sit, you follow suit at your own desk, looking to the class with the expectation of an explanation as you tap your palm to your leg. Amicus shrinks down yet again and takes her place under your desk with her reward, another beef stick from your pocket. The students, however, do not seem to sense their cue.
“So…are we just going to ignore that or…?” you question.
As the students look to each other, then you, no one makes the move to speak up. Rolling your eyes, you start your lecture, telling the students there will be a quiz tomorrow on its topic. As you speak, you notice a few more mannerisms amongst the students. Nothing too interesting, just that Rin tends to fall asleep in class when the topic bores him, Shima seems to keep trying to get Izumos attention, Izumo glares at him every time, Bon and the bald kid whos name you still arent sure of seem to take it all very seriously, and Shemi seems a bit confused but dedicated. The puppet kid still creeps you the fuck out, just whispering to his rabbit the whole time.
By the time you finish, there are another 15 minutes of class left. Figuring they would enjoy it, you tell the entire class that they are free to leave and enjoy their break before the next one starts. Gathering your things, you begin to pack up your bag to leave.
“The oldest sister married Amaimon, right?”
You freeze. Slowly turning your head to the class again, you see Rin staring at you. You guess his nap must have done him wonder since he suddenly seems so much more alert. You look at your bag, then back to Rin, before sighing as you set it back on the ground and hop up to sit on your desk.
“Yep, he married her. Why?”
“What exactly do you know about her, then? She ran off the assiah, right? Was that recent?”
The rest of the class looks a little uncomfortable, Shemi the most, having shrunk in herself.
“Well…no, it probably would have been hundreds, if not thousands, of years ago. The old legends don’t specify much, but…I think most agree she ran, and he didn’t follow. Again, why?”
Rin seems almost disappointed in this answer, looking off to the side and refusing to answer. You won't pry, you don’t want to get yourself too involved in any of this. You only took the job out of sheer boredom. You can only wander the world for you long before there's nothing new to see. The feeling in your gut keeps you from outright leaving, though. Looking over the class, you ask if there are any other questions about today's or yesterday's lesson. You get one or two minor questions about today's lecture, which mainly consisted of the use of minor demons by paganistic society before the formation of the Vatican. Then, Bon raises his hand. You nod at him to start speaking.
“That lady, the one always with…uh…Mr. Faust, is she a…y’know?” Bon stammers. You know exactly who and what Mephisto is, but you suppose that since the class was told you weren’t directly aligned to the vatican, it would make sense Bon would beat around the bush.
“Yes, she is.” You state bluntly. Unlike Bon, your words don’t waver for a second.
Many in the class grow pale, but before more questions can arise the bell rings. You motion for everyone to file out and decide maybe here is a good place to get some paperwork done after all. As long as you actually stay awake this time. Pulling out some documents from your bag as students file out, you see a blob of blonde out of the corner of your eye. You glace up and immediately shriek as you suddenly notice shimi is about 2 inches from the side of your head.
“I-I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you!” she quickly stutters out.
You try to wipe the obvious grimice off your face and give a weak chuckle.
“It’s all right, how can I help you Shimi?”
As you ask, Shemi’s familiar, a baby greenman, hops off her shoulder as your familiar rises from the floor to meet it. The two interact almost like children meeting at the swingset for the first time. They eye each other for a moment, then seemingly nod to one another before Nee, as shemi has now just told you during their interaction, hops onto one of Amicus’s five heads and suddenly shoots off deeper into the room. Nee lets out tiny sounds of delight as they speed off, Amicus hissing playfully in response. It is not completely uncommon for familiars to be playful with one another, however, one with such a high ranking typically would not entertain another so much lower and younger. Considering how you met Amicus to begin with, though, it isn’t too odd of a sight for you.
You realize Shimi has been speaking the whole time you were watching the two play, and quickly tune back into her voice.
“-so that’s why I- um…why we both think it would be good if you could maybe, if you dont mind of course! If you could…PleaseTrainMeToBeATamerLikeYou!” Shemi has her eyes squeezed shut as she practically word vomits the rest of her sentence at you, face bright red.
She reminds you of someone you used to know when she does that. A younger girl from 2000 years ago who you loved dearly, one who asked you the exact same thing. While at the time you were only seventeen, your younger sister was eight. Much younger than Shemi is now, yes, but the innocence in asking is where the connection lies.
A young Blonde girl runs up to you, her head barely clearing your first set of ribs. Her Blue eyes are shining with joy that extends out into her entire being. She jumps and wraps her arms around your middle, curls nestled against your neck as you pick her up and spin. She giggles, telling you to stop, that she has something important to tell you. You can’t remember what it was exactly, maybe she had summoned a fae for the first time? Lured one into a circle? It doesn’t matter now. What matters is what she asks you a few moments later.
You both sit on the ground now, curled under the willow tree that sits just beside your beloved pond. She is red in the face, embarrassed but prideful in her ask. Determined to get her favorite big sister to share her knowledge no matter how young she may be, or if her Majik would even allow her to partake in the ritual. Celina was always stubborn. As she squeezed her eyes shut tight, face scrunching with the effort, she nearly shouted her request.
“PleaseTeachMeYourSummoningMajik!”
“Ms.(l/n)?”
You blink quickly a few times before realizing you have just been silently staring at Shemi for the past few moments. She looks to be on the verge of tears. The poor thing, you can’t imagine her taking it well if you said no at this point.
“Y’know, how about after this training weekend, we start to meet after your classes? I do have some other respondibilitys I need to take care of, but a couple days a week we can work one on one, Okay? Just remember, im not a vatican certifi-”
“Oh Thank you! Thank you!” Shemi exclaims, pure joy in her tone. She quickly hugs you tight, and you stiffen. Aside from Amicus, you haven’t exactly been the huggy type. You awkwardly wrap your arms around her, patting the top of her head twice as it rests on your collar bone. Shemi pulls away as a ball of energy, grabbing Nee who has made its way back to the desk at some point and running out the room, shouting gratuities along the way.
You watch her go with a raised eyebrow as Amicus makes her way to your feet, nudging one with her closest head and staring up at you.
“What have i gotten myself into this time Ami?” chuckling as you grab your things, deciding paperwork can wait, you walk to the class door and close it, pulling out your key and inserting it into the rusted key hole.
As you walk back into the small apartment you have been calling home, you begin to gather your things. You have a training weekend to pack for, and something in your gut is screaming to prepare. Who knows what you all might run into in the middle of the woods.
A/N: finally had time to write. Not sure if anyone is reading this but I hope someone is enjoying it! This is a good bit shorter than the last one, but the next will hopefully be much longer! constructive criticism is more than welcomed!
The ground is cold now. Ice has settled within the earth, and you can almost feel the weakness within your magik as you walk the old path to your meeting place. It is always the same, the pond where you had first met. It feels like a lifetime ago now, Amaimon having taken so much space within your heart and mind as of late. He has consumed every thought you have, making this all the more heartbreaking.
Your father has finally picked his suitors, and you are to be married in the coming months. Your sisters are also promised to others, but a selfish part of you envies them. They have no lover to leave behind. In that sentiment, you are completely alone. While many say it is better to have loved and lost, you cannot help but wish to have never loved at all.
As you approach the pond, you find him already waiting. When these meetings had first begun, he often would appear later, if at all. Now he is always the first to arrive. As his gaze moves from the frosted grass to your face, his expression changes in ways only you can see. He does not smile, you’re not sure if he is capable of such a thing, but his eyes widen slightly, his brow raising ever so gently, and his perpetual expression of boredom shifts to one of contentness. His lips quirk ever so slightly, not enough to constitute as a grin, but just shy of an almost smile. If he is happy, it is obviously due to seeing you.
His expression darkens, however, as words you can no longer remember result in muffled murmurs falling from your lips. You are telling him of your betrothal. You may not remember exactly what is said, but you recall his eyes, golden pools swimming with an emotion you cannot quite place. Anger? Sadness? Disappointment? In the moment it all seemed so unclear.
Time blurs past, and suddenly it is spring. You stand in wedding garb, the floor-length mirror in front of you glaring sunlight onto your face, blinding your reflection. Behind you stand your younger sisters and brother. You make a comment, something about older sisters and little brothers, and the girls giggle as your brother reminds you that being 3 minutes older than him is no real accomplishment. He tacks on some kind of insult at the end of the sentence, one intending to help settle your nerves more so than create any real sting.
You realize then you would not see a single one of them for some time, your future husband insisting you live in an area hours away by horseback, let alone carriage. Sera, your second sister, places the final comb in your hair, kissing you on the cheek before leaving the room. She would never admit it, but you could feel the wetness on her face from her silent tears. Your other sisters follow her example, walking out of the room with silent pity in their leaving just you and your twin in the room alone. He stares at you through the looking glass, opening his mouth to speak before quickly shutting it. Nothing he could say will fix the situation, both of you are acutely aware. He most likely wants to say that if your soon-to-be husband hurts you then he will kill him, but the gentleman is much your brother's senior, and any fight between the two would end in Erebos’s death. Instead of words, he resorts to a tight hug. A minute passes as you silently weep into his shoulder before he pushes you to arm's length.
“You are powerful, you will survive, then you will thrive.”
He says it with such certainty, you almost believe him. You give a weak smile, and he returns the gesture. He quickly walks out of the room, and you are alone. You look back into the reflective surface you stood before. Studying your features, you almost miss the figure slowly crawling through the window behind you. The room is on the third floor, and there is no tree to climb, a detail your father was sure to implement to keep you from running. Turning on your heel, you would have knocked the figure down had he not been much stronger than he physically appeared. As arms secure around your waist, you feel a pull within your mind.
“BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.”
You startle awake, confused for a moment as to where you were. The warmth at your feet and crick in your neck tells you that you have inevitably fallen asleep at your desk doing paperwork. Your phone reads 3:27 am, and your sudden wakefulness is explained by the 4 text message notifications on your screen. They're from the headmaster. Great, as if the night couldn't possibly get better.
Sighing, you peel yourself from the wood of the desk, feeling the splinters that now stick to your hand and cheek. Pulling yourself up from your chair, you stretch, popping your shoulders and back. With a groan, you grab your bag. You know why you received the texts without needing to read them. You were supposed to have a meeting hours ago, obviously you slept through the initial time. Giving a short whistle, Amicus is quickly at your side. You half stubble to the classroom door, your legs still asleep from lack of use. Pushing your key into the door, you give it a jerky twist before opening it.
What stands before you through the doorway is an office, obviously the headmasters. Three people sit in the room, with Mephisto behind the desk, Shura in a chair across from him, and another woman sitting on the ledge of the bay window behind them both. You freeze, just for a moment, the air in your lungs becoming stuck. This isn’t anything unexpected necessarily. You should have known she would be hanging around somewhere near him, you just assumed you wouldn’t see her for a long while yet.
“Ah, Ms.(L/N), how kind of you to finally join us” Mephisto says, pulling you from your thoughts. Shura tilts her head back slightly before turning it so she can see you. She seems annoyed at whatever you have just walked into, and it’s clear whatever it is involves you. The other woman perks slightly, but keeps her eyes glued to the window, most likely walking you through the reflection it gives. She must have not been quite prepared to see you either.
“Please, have a seat, have a seat. Don’t be shy, none of us bite” Mephisto jests.
“I do.” Shura chimes in dryly. You hold in a snicker,
Sitting in the seat next to Shura, you prepare for whatever orders you’re undoubtedly going to receive. Amicus curls her body against your leg, four of her five heads resting on the floor while the last stays alert. She is nothing if not loyal.
When Rin Okumura's training is brought up, you’re not surprised. Shura, though, is.
“Why exactly would some tamer, one technically not licensed by the Vatican to begin with, help with his training?”
“Oh, Ms.Kirigakure, I can assure you that our friend here is much more than ‘some tamer’. At one time she was even dear friends with Father Fujimoto. He entrusted her with Rin's secret many years ago. Not to mention, her abilities go beyond that of a normal tamer. Not just anyone can summon and control a hydra with such ease.”
“Fine, she's a good tamer, so what?”
“She is more than just a tamer, if licensed by the Vatican I would assume she would qualify as a doctor as well. I have yet to meet another healer quite as proficient. She would be good to have around during Rins training.”
The two continue to go back and forth. Could you interrupt and make your case? Sure. Will you? Not a chance. You stopped competing to show your worth years ago, and you don't intend to start now. You couldn't if you wanted to anyway. Ilaria is finally looking at you. Neither of you attempts to say anything just stare. Both of you hold blank expressions at first, Ilaria being the first to give you a small smile.
The last time you had seen her was around twelve hundred years ago when you both happened to be in the Middle East. She looks a bit different now, it’s obvious Mephisto has had a stylistic influence on her. You suppose it’s still better than his gaudy top hat and suit. She wears a simple flowing white dress with a royal purple blazer and tights. Purple was always her favorite color. Must explain the obvious lavender marriage she is now in, fate can be funny like that,
You pull away from her gaze as you hear Shura shout, agreeing to whatever terms Mephisto has come up with.
“But it’s gonna have to wait till after the training exercise next week, I’m stressed enough dealing with all the bullshit Yukio keeps putting on me to plan the damn thing.”
“But of course, I wouldn't dream of putting more stress on you than-”
“So next week after the training camp, right? Am I good to go now? Hate to sound like a bitch, but it's four in the morning and I would love to sleep in my bed instead of on my desk.” you cut them off, beyond tired and ready to just get a few hours of sleep before your class later that day. Both mumble agreement before you shoot up, Amicus startling awake after having fallen asleep mid-conversation. You make your way back to the door you walked in though, putting in the key and opening it to your small room. Your turn back, saying a quick goodnight. You lock eyes with her again, and you can tell she wants to say something, instead giving a slight wave as you walk through the door. It may have been centuries, but you were always good at reading your sister.
You remove your boots, Amicus already curled onto your pillow and snoozing peacefully. Walking to the kitchen, you make yourself a cup noodle, it being the quickest and easiest thing in your apartment to make. You consider watching some trash TV, a habit you picked up while in the States ten years ago. Deciding against it, you quickly slurp down your noodles before making your way to the bathroom.
You turn on the light, its yellow hue making the off-white tiles look much dingier than they probably were. Turning on the shower, you strip your clothes and hop into the steaming stream. You stand there for some time, not quite sure how long you stay standing there until the water starts to lose its sting. Quickly washing your hair and body, you turn off the water and exit the shower. You start to dry your hair with a towel after wiping the mirror clean of condensation.
As you stare into the mirror, your neck begins to throb. A soft golden glow begins to emit from your eyes, a ring of light surrounding your pupal as you bring your fingers to the junction between your neck and shoulder. In the space your fingers now occupy is a large green mark about the size of a dinner plate. It swirls much like a hobgoblin’s skin, traveling up the side of your neck and down your shoulder to your chest. Inside the green swirls, golden lines cross each other repeatedly, creating a complex geometric design. As the sting grows the lines become brighter. You stare in disbelief, having not seen your mark do this in eighteen hundred years. Not since you left Gahanna. It can only mean one thing, Amaimon is in Assiah. More precisely, he's in Japan.
Spooked, you proceed to throw on a hoodie to cover the mark. It’s late, and you quite frankly don’t have the mental capacity to deal with this right now. You walk across the narrow hall into the bedroom, shutting off the lights and pulling back your comforter. The second you move to slide into the warm cocoon you plan to make yourself, Amicus slides herself off your pillow and into the space next to yours. You cover both of you up, her slithering to cling to your body, her tail instinctually wrapping with your own. This also startles you, as you haven’t had a tail in almost two thousand years. Not since the fight, not since you started wishing you could just forget about the claim tattooed on your body like a brand. Anger, sadness, and fear flood your senses, knowing that more traits such as these will appear the closer you get to him, knowing he may be here to try and take you back. At that thought, a small part of you, just a flicker of something in the deepest crevice of your heart, feels almost hopeful. You squash it immediately, you cannot allow it, not after what he did. Not after Amaimon let her die.
You force your eyes shut, willing yourself to hopefully fall into a dreamless sleep. As sleep begins to take your mind, colors begin to flash behind your eyelids. Memories of a pond in the forest behind your childhood home take over, and you're quickly dragged back to a time where that flicker was instead a blazing inferno.
This is my first fic, so please don't expect it to be any good. I'm proud of what I have for the first chapter so far! It's not great, but...it's something that's for sure...and it's not like 3 total paragraphs, and it has DIALOGUE! Anyway, enjoy and lmk if y'all have any constructive criticism, lord knows I probably need it
The sun is blinding, shining against the lotus pond. A quiet purr can be heard emanating out of the chest of the green-furred beast sitting next to its master. The pond water is soothing, the blisters on the bottoms of your feet appreciating the reprieve from the unforgiving forest floor. He speaks.
“Are you going to leave soon?”
“Hmm?”
“Are you going to leave?”
“...maybe, once I know the elders assembly is over.”
“Assembly?”
“My father is consulting with the elders, deciding if my siblings and I are to wed.”
“How boring.”
“SOMETHING HAPPENS AND I'M HEAD OVER HEELS!”
“....Pardon?”
“DON’T TAKE MY HEART, DON’T BREAK MY HEART”
“...”
You slowly blink your eyes open, your alarm clock blaring whatever 80’s song the station is set to deem fit at 6 am. You groan in frustration, sitting up quickly to slam your fist against the silence button. As you sit on the edge of the bed, you contemplate simply going back to sleep. While your body would appreciate it, you get the feeling your bank account would have a much different opinion. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you slowly stand, your joints popping in protest in their stiff state. Shuffling to the small oak table next to the desk, you crack your back as you start the coffee pot. While you spent the majority of your life on the eastern side of the world, your short time in the United States truly hooked you on the caffeinated beverage. Waiting for the brewing process to finalize, you yank a hanger out of the small closet, closet being a glorified term as it realistically can only hold a total of 8 hangers at once. The fabric you pulled is a deep black, a seemingly drab color choice, but one that is required for your newest position as a teacher. Quickly dressing seems to have been the wrong choice, as you end up on the floor half-dressed, having knocked over the papers that previously sat on your desk destined to end in your bag. Grabbing the sheets off the ground, you haphazardly shove them into your bag, content to leave the reorganizing to your future self.
As if the morning had finally decided to take mercy on you, the coffee pot is finally filled. This leads to the obvious outcome of a full Thermus brimming with the bitter liquid resting in your hand as you trudge out the bedroom door. The fridge is your next stop, opening its door to find your premade lunch. Shoving it into the top of your backpack, you finally grab your key. Walking to the front door, which happens to be the closest door containing a keyhole, you slide the key into the lock, giving it a quick twist before heaving the heavy thing open.
The room you come to occupy in the next few seconds is cold, made of stone walls and no windows. It reeks of blood and mildew, a scent you have familiarized yourself with in previous years. The ancient desk, even by your standards, seems to be on the last leg. It wobbles violently as you place your bag down, pulling from it your summoning papers made for the upcoming lesson, amongst other items that you place around the room. Although they will become important for future lectures, they are unimpressive in this moment.
Completing your self-assigned tasks with a few minutes to spare, you sit at the desk to organize the papers you couldn’t bother with earlier. Of course, expecting to do this in peace is just a willful delusion, as another teacher, a young man, or maybe more of an older boy, walks in with a woman. As you nod to acknowledge their presence, him wearing the same uniform as you, and her wearing barely anything at all, you wonder what could be so important they felt the need to interrupt the only 5 minutes of free time you’ll see for the next 6 or so hours.
“Ms.(l/n), it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, my name is Yukio Okumura, I’m another teacher here. This is Shura, do you have a moment?’ the boy, Yukio, introduces the pair.
“Nice to meet you, I guess I have a few minutes before my class starts, what do you need?”
Yukio begins to drone on, talk of schedules and lesson plans going in one ear and out the other. All things you’ve already discussed with the headmaster in detail. The woman, Shura, seems just as disinterested as you, leaning against the student desk closest to the open door. It’s obvious that, much like yourself, she would rather be anywhere else but here listening to a 15-year-old go on about the importance of test dates. You wonder for a moment if the next time there is a new hire, it will be you who sits in front of them, never seeming to shut up.
“...can understand, especially with what happened in regards with Neuhaus.” You suddenly zone back into the one-sided conversation with Yukio Okumura, simply nodding to give the impression you had been listening all along.
“Of course, I-” you’re interrupted.
“C’mon kid, give her a break. Didn’t anyone ever tell you to save the trauma dumping for after the first week?” Shura gives a half-hearted laugh. “Her class is about to start, you can give her a patdown later.”
You raise an eyebrow, but as Okumura quickly apologizes, clearly flustered by Shura's statement, they both say their goodbyes. While Shura walks out calmly, amused with herself by the looks of the smirk she wears, he seems to rush out ahead of her. As soon as he is out of sight, Shura calls out one last comment over her shoulder right outside the doorway.
“Good luck newbie, you’re gonna need it with this set.”
You give her a puzzled look; however, you quickly realize her meaning as you hear several sets of footsteps and a heated argument taking place in the hall. As the sounds grow closer, you can’t help but rub your face with both hands. You can already tell this is going to be a rough morning.
Your new students file into the classroom, their own groups apparent in the small crowd. As they begin to take their seats, you look over a file from your bag. Rin Okumura, the boy who is seen sitting at the front of the class with a young blonde girl. The file explains what you’ve already known for years now, that he’s not completely human. His slightly pointed ears and the subtle shuffling under his shirt, likely a tail, give him away if you know what to look for. It’s beyond obvious to you at least. The headmaster said to keep a close eye on him, so you shall. However, the class must begin and everyone seems to have finally quieted down. Time for your introduction.
“Hello class, my name is (y/n)(l/n). I will be your new instructor. I normally would have everyone stand and introduce themselves, but I haven't been given a roster, and I frankly couldn’t care less. You all seem familiar enough with each other, and from what I’ve been told, I will undoubtedly learn quite a few names quickly. Any Questions?” you announce to the class, a few making a face at your mini-speech. One student, a boy with a blond mohawk, raises his hand, not waiting to be called on to speak.
“What do you mean you ‘couldnt care less’, isn’t caring part of the job description?”
“Name?” you ask quietly.
“Huh?”
“Your name kid, what is it?” you repeat yourself, a slight irritation obvious in your face and tone. What can you say? bad habits die hard.
“Ryuji Suguro.”
“Well, Mr.Ryuji Suguro, I meant that I quite frankly couldn’t care less. Names are pointless in the grand scheme of things. Will they help later on? Yes, Do I need your name to start today's lesson? No. I am perfectly capable of both teaching and protecting my students regardless of their names or backgrounds. Unless you seem already to doubt my abilities after a 2-minute interaction? By all means, if you have concerns surrounding my abilities as a teacher in this institution, I am more than happy to provide a demonstration” You’re smiling, but judging by the reactions of the students, it is nothing short of unsettling. The blonde in the front, while seeming uncomfortable, looks almost curious at your offer. The Greenman on her shoulder tells you everything you need to know, the students were most likely told you were a tamer. With how rare they tend to be, most exwires with the ability tend to stick together.
“I didn’t mean to disresp-” Suguro begins, but is caught off.
“You know what, yeah, we want a demonstration! Can you blame us? I mean, the last teacher tried to kill us, why wouldn't we be nervous dealing with you when you talk like that? Maybe if you show us, we won’t ask again.” Okumura cuts in, causing a bald boy closer to the back of the class to pale considerably at his declaration. It’s usually rude to just demand things from your teachers, something Okumura seems to forget.
You freeze for a moment, contemplating what was just demanded of you. You’re reminded of a time when you were much younger, transported back for just a moment.
“Show me.”
“It’s not exactly appropriate, y’know, for a lady to do.”
“I don’t care, show me. I won't ask again”
You come back to reality, shaking your head slightly to re-focus. Looking up, you see the students eye you expectantly, some fearful of repercussion, others nervous of what you might possibly do to ‘prove yourself’. A smirk slowly makes its way onto your face, and you quickly grab a piece of chalk off your desk.
“Okay then”
You draw the summoning circle on the desk, a practiced ease the comes from years of creating them is held within your movement. Just seconds later, you have a decently complex circle on the surface, and a small knife in your hand. You give one last look to your students, silently asking if they are ready for what they may witness. When you see them all leaning forward in their seats, some having moved farther to the front or back of the class for better views, you remove the cover of the knife. The slice to your finger is a dull sting, one you barely notice as you let the blood drips onto the circle, awaiting your voice to finish the contract. You whisper your words quietly enough for nobody else to hear, then begin to step away. As the circle begins to glow, you casually look at your students.
“You may want to take a few steps back” you say, your smirk transforming into an almost maniacal grin.
They all quickly begin to back away as your summoning intensifies, scorching the desk it takes place on. As it completes, you stand behind the demon, though you cannot be seen. You hear several shocked gasps, and one scream rings out. While it is very feminine, something tells you it wasn’t one of the girls. Walking to the side of the massive demon you summoned, you smile fondly.
“Amicus, shrink, you’re going to hurt your heads.” you pat the side of the beast's body and one of her heads nuzzles to your own.
“Is that a-”
“Hydra? Yes, she is.” You cut off one of the students, the bald one who was smart enough to stay back from the beginning.
As Amicus slowly shrinks down to the size of a very large dog you pull a meat stick out of your coat pocket, breaking it into five pieces to give to her five heads. Satisfied with her snack, she slithers her way to hide under your desk before curling up for a nap. The students seem much more interested, and terrified, of her than she is them.
“Alright, demonstration over, back in your seats!” you bark out.
“Wait-”
“But-”
“How did-”
“Seats! Now! I will not repeat myself!”
The students slowly sit, seemingly disappointed that you won’t let them ask their burning questions. You begin writing the lesson for the day on the board, the history of demonology and the Ba’al, before finally turning to face the class yet again.
“Today, we’re going to focus on the earliest depictions of the Ba’al, and what they were considered during the more paganistic societies that held power at the time. Does anyone know why they are called kings?”
Surugo raises his hand, “Because all other demon types are their kin.”
You shake you head before correcting him, “because they used to be viewed as gods.”
This is obviously news to the students, most quickly flipping through their notes, trying to find wherever this statement was made before in their studies.
“None of you will find what you’re looking for in any of your notes, and I highly doubt the Vatican would ever let it be recorded. A lot of what we will cover in this class won’t be in any textbook, much like most of exorcism in general, but what we will cover? Not even the Vatican wants to be common knowledge.”
“Then why would we cover it?” A girl with purple hair and odd eyebrows comments, rolling her eyes at your antics.
“Because, knowledge is power, and frankly, isn’t hidden history just so much more interesting?” You have a gleam in your eye, a slight smile to match it. If you were going to be a glorified history teacher, you were going to teach the real history whether anyone liked it or not. To your surprise, however, about half the students seem to almost become excited at the idea.
“Let me ask you this class, have any of the heard the the ‘queens of hell’?” you get blank stares in response to your question.
“Well, as the legend goes, about 2000 years ago a deal was struck with a very powerful family. Their abilities in Majik were unrivaled, however the patriarch wanted to ensure that his line would remain the most powerful, so he struck a deal with Satan himself. He would provide a bride or husband for each of the Ba’al, in exchange for his eldest son and his blood line to become the most powerful witches and warlocks in their own given times.”
You begin writing the names of the Ba’al on the board, along with the birth order of their betrothed. Sneaking a peak behind you, you notice that all the students, save for the creepy one with a puppet, give you their complete attention, some of them writing down your new lecture word for word.
“Satan originally thought this to be a useless deal, until he realized that every single child offered by the man had immense power in their own right. Again, at the time this family’s magik was well known and uncontested. While a contract like this would mean the children would become more powerful, having gained some of their power due to the mating bite-”
“The WHAT?” Rin Okumura shouts out, a few others joining him in the sentiment of pure and utter ‘what the fuck?’,
You pause for a second, looking at the students confused. The realization hits you, the exwires don’t even understand the most basic of all mating rituals within demon culture. More jarringly, Rin, who is half demon himself, also doesn’t know. While the likelihood is low, it is not impossible that his demonic nature could manifest in him attempting to give someone a mark at any time. You decide to let yourself become sidetracked yet again to explain.
“A mating mark is specific to demons. While not uncommon for higher-level demons to take lovers, a mating mark is the closest thing demons have to marriage. It ties them to another being forever, gives their partner access to a portion of their power, and vice versa. Additionally, the marks originally will look like a bite, always to the crook between the neck and shoulder, however their long term appearance is affected by the stronger of the two specifically. A pwerful demon with yellow coloration mating with say a demon with purple coloration would end in a patter of some kind that is distinctly yellow, maybe containing a smaller amount of purple if the second demon is also powerful. Any questions?”
A few students raise their hands, all wanting to know how exactly you know all of this. You disregard answering and continue where you left off before.
“Anyways, due to the mating mark, the children would gain some of the power from the individual demon they would be paired with, but the Ba’al would also receive a boost due the the power each of their betrothed carried, the oldest being the strongest, and youngest weakest.”
“Then why was the eldest paired with him?” The purple haired girl, who you think someone called Izumo earlier, asked.
You figured someone would notice eventually, as the eldest of the Ba’al was paired with the second eldest of the human brides.
“He took claim of her first. That was what initially struck the deal, as he was the one who helped the father convince satan. Some versions of the legends say he was trying to help the father strike the deal with all of the Ba’al and the family children, other versions say he was trying to keep the girl from being murdered due to being his mate. The truth, sadly, will have to remain unknown.” Your tone is almost somber in its explanation, something that seems to leak out into the classroom and affect the other students.
“Which do you think?” the blonde asks,
“I’m sorry?”
“Do you think it was to save her? Or was he trying to get more power?”
The blonde girl's question takes you aback for a moment, and you have to think about it before you answer.
“I suppose-”
“Totally for power” Rin cuts you off, many of his classmates mirroring his response.
The girl flushes from what you assume to be embarrassment, and you almost follow suit. A younger version of you surely would have. The class has begun chatting amongst themselves, debating about the different brides. You’re about to call the lesson for the day, deeming it a lost cause, before the blonde, whose name you know because of Rin chastizing her when she argued against his opinion, speaks up.
“What happened to them?”
The class is suddenly silent, so you speak.
“Well, as the legend goes, the second eldest is still with her king, maybe the third eldest died in childbirth along with her firstborn, and the eldest supposedly lives in Assiah with humans. The rest are unknown, I would assume they’re all either dead or in Ghenna. This legend is thousands of years old, though, so really who's to say?”
“What about the brother?” the pink haired kid, Shima, asks.
“If he got his power? As long as his bloodline continued, i suppose his descendants are running around somewhere. Magik isn’t nearly as common now, so most users don’t go showing people what they can do anymore.”
“Do you think they still talk? The siblings?” Rin chimes in.
“It wouldn’t matter either way.” Izuma cuts out. “They all probably got murdered by their ‘husbands’ by now”
“I don’t think so, siblings can be complicated, and 2000 years is a long time for family drama to take place.” You almost giggle to yourself. It’s not funny, but it’s easier to laugh at it.
It’s finally time for class to be dismissed. As you’re left in the room alone, aside from Amicus who still sleeps under the desk, you remove your jacket. Its constricting collar causes the green blotch on your shoulder to itch. Its design is hidden under yesterday's makeup still, but you trace it from memory as you finish the last of your paperwork you weren't able to complete earlier due to Yukio and Shura. You were surprised to see Yukio, let alone Rin, having last seen both as young children. The last you can recall seeing them was just a few months after Yuri's death and their birth. Satan, it feels like it was just yesterday.
Sorry it took me so long to update this! Life got crazy, I feel like one of those fanfic writers who got hit by a bus lol.
Warning!!! Semi-graphic depictions of injured/dead child! read at your own risk, or skip the first italicized portion!
You’re running. She is too. Giggles float into the air like the fluff of a dandelion just wished upon. The grass is soft beneath your bare feet, the sun kisses your skin with her warmth, a breeze brushing through your hair as you keep chase. Your footprints overlap much smaller ones made just seconds before, larger ones overlapping your own just seconds after.
A smile is spread over three faces as the game of chase intensifies, a figure jumping clear over your own and landing feet in front of the instigator of said chase. The smallest figure, shielded by the bright sunlight from your vision, begins to laugh loudly as her father grabs her and takes off in a full sprint. You follow suit.
Everything is crimsom. There is a thick coating of the ugly color in the grass, on the bark of trees, on your hands. She lays in your arms, eyes having grown dark, her tiny body is so cold. Was she always this tiny? This fragile? Blood has foamed up and out of her mouth, dripping over her bruised face. Her chest is concave, pulling into itself. Golden magic is fluttering over her entire body. You feel how her ribs are cracked into pieces, how her jaw is completely dislocated, how her windpipe is crushed. The latter is completely unnecessary, as her little lungs could have never hopes to expand against the brutality which has taken place against her thoracic cavity. Medically, nothing could have helped her.
Majik. Majik could have. Majik could have saved your little girl, but he took it. Looking up, you see him syphoning it from you, feel him doing it. You scream for him to stop, even for just a moment, to let you save her. You sob and screech and plead and threaten. He just stares.
You sit up quickly with a gasp. You’re covered in sweat, tears streaming down your face. Amicus is startled by your sudden movement, but your terror quickly sends her on high alert. She scans the room with all five heads, each hissing and baring their own fangs in the face of an unseen danger. You pet over her body to calm her as you grip your shirt right over your heart. You’re shaking, completely thrown by your dream. It’s one you haven’t experienced in over two centuries.
As Amicus lowers her guard, you slowly, shakily, stand. Stumbling your way to your kitchen area, you turn your faucet on and shove your head under it, mouth open. The cool water on your face and in your stomach helps. Shutting off the sink, you follow its name and sink to the floor. You try to take deep breaths as you glance at the tiny clock on the stove reading 5:37 am. After a few moments you collect yourself from the floor and slowly make your way to the bathroom.
Looking in the mirror, you see tear streaks covering your face. Letting out a breath, you begin to wash your face. It was a nightmare, you’ve had it before, you can’t let it control you again. Another century of lying on the ground and refusing to move won’t change something that happened a millennium ago. That doesnt mean you wont take your sweet fucking time getting yourself together for the day, though. Forty-five minutes pass before you finally exit your bathroom, fully dressed for the day with fresh makeup covering your neck under the thick turtleneck style of your uniform.
Amicus stands tall in the hallway outside the bathroom door, acting as your not so mini guard. Walking past her to grab your bag, she slithers her way to the front door with you. Forgoing your coffee, you stick your key into the door and roughly yank it this way and that til you hear the resounding click to indicate that the door is ready. Taking a deep breath, you open the door into your classroom, students already seated and waiting ever so patiently.
If patiently can be described as Ryuji, or Bon as everyone seems to call him, and Rin having an all-out brawl in the middle of the room while everyone else shouts their opinions on it at them. Jaw dropped, you cannot help but just watch for a moment, amazed at the audacity of a group of absolutely idiotic teenagers gains when their teacher is a whole 30 seconds late. Amicus, of course, must be the adult in the situation for the moment. She has always been such a good girl.
Growing to her full size, Amicus wraps one neck each around both teens and lifts them several feet above the ground and, most importantly, away from each other. Yet again, you hear that girly as ever shriek, realizing this time it came from Shima.
Gaining your voice back in the wake of your shock, you shout at the two boys to shut it as they continue to scream at each other while trying to twist out of their binds to reach each other. Seeing that your shouting can't get through to them, and the giant hydra isn’t deterring them, you simply walk to your desk and place down your things. As the boys continue their, now only verbal, beatdown, you begin to write on the board.
In all honesty, you had no idea what you were going to teach today, you never finished your lesson plan from yesterday, and had no intention of finishing it this morning after the night you had. Winging it had always been more of your strong suit to begin with, so why not now?
As you finished writing points on the board, the class continued to become quieter and quieter. Finally turning around, you see all the other students now in their seats, aside from Shima, who now sits three full rows farther back than he had previously. Raising an eyebrow, you look at Rin and Bon. Both are still suspended in the air, weakly reaching for the other. If their lethargic movements didn’t tell you they had exhausted themselves, their sweat-soaked hair and clothes sure did. Raising your hand to Amicus as you nod lets her know to release them, and they tumble to the floor.
“Seats, now. Or neither of you will be on the training trip this weekend. Good luck trying to make that bullshit up later.”
Slowly standing, both boys half crawl to their seats, faces red in anger or embarrassment. Who knows, and who cares? As they sit, you follow suit at your own desk, looking to the class with the expectation of an explanation as you tap your palm to your leg. Amicus shrinks down yet again and takes her place under your desk with her reward, another beef stick from your pocket. The students, however, do not seem to sense their cue.
“So…are we just going to ignore that or…?” you question.
As the students look to each other, then you, no one makes the move to speak up. Rolling your eyes, you start your lecture, telling the students there will be a quiz tomorrow on its topic. As you speak, you notice a few more mannerisms amongst the students. Nothing too interesting, just that Rin tends to fall asleep in class when the topic bores him, Shima seems to keep trying to get Izumos attention, Izumo glares at him every time, Bon and the bald kid whos name you still arent sure of seem to take it all very seriously, and Shemi seems a bit confused but dedicated. The puppet kid still creeps you the fuck out, just whispering to his rabbit the whole time.
By the time you finish, there are another 15 minutes of class left. Figuring they would enjoy it, you tell the entire class that they are free to leave and enjoy their break before the next one starts. Gathering your things, you begin to pack up your bag to leave.
“The oldest sister married Amaimon, right?”
You freeze. Slowly turning your head to the class again, you see Rin staring at you. You guess his nap must have done him wonder since he suddenly seems so much more alert. You look at your bag, then back to Rin, before sighing as you set it back on the ground and hop up to sit on your desk.
“Yep, he married her. Why?”
“What exactly do you know about her, then? She ran off the assiah, right? Was that recent?”
The rest of the class looks a little uncomfortable, Shemi the most, having shrunk in herself.
“Well…no, it probably would have been hundreds, if not thousands, of years ago. The old legends don’t specify much, but…I think most agree she ran, and he didn’t follow. Again, why?”
Rin seems almost disappointed in this answer, looking off to the side and refusing to answer. You won't pry, you don’t want to get yourself too involved in any of this. You only took the job out of sheer boredom. You can only wander the world for you long before there's nothing new to see. The feeling in your gut keeps you from outright leaving, though. Looking over the class, you ask if there are any other questions about today's or yesterday's lesson. You get one or two minor questions about today's lecture, which mainly consisted of the use of minor demons by paganistic society before the formation of the Vatican. Then, Bon raises his hand. You nod at him to start speaking.
“That lady, the one always with…uh…Mr. Faust, is she a…y’know?” Bon stammers. You know exactly who and what Mephisto is, but you suppose that since the class was told you weren’t directly aligned to the vatican, it would make sense Bon would beat around the bush.
“Yes, she is.” You state bluntly. Unlike Bon, your words don’t waver for a second.
Many in the class grow pale, but before more questions can arise the bell rings. You motion for everyone to file out and decide maybe here is a good place to get some paperwork done after all. As long as you actually stay awake this time. Pulling out some documents from your bag as students file out, you see a blob of blonde out of the corner of your eye. You glace up and immediately shriek as you suddenly notice shimi is about 2 inches from the side of your head.
“I-I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you!” she quickly stutters out.
You try to wipe the obvious grimice off your face and give a weak chuckle.
“It’s all right, how can I help you Shimi?”
As you ask, Shemi’s familiar, a baby greenman, hops off her shoulder as your familiar rises from the floor to meet it. The two interact almost like children meeting at the swingset for the first time. They eye each other for a moment, then seemingly nod to one another before Nee, as shemi has now just told you during their interaction, hops onto one of Amicus’s five heads and suddenly shoots off deeper into the room. Nee lets out tiny sounds of delight as they speed off, Amicus hissing playfully in response. It is not completely uncommon for familiars to be playful with one another, however, one with such a high ranking typically would not entertain another so much lower and younger. Considering how you met Amicus to begin with, though, it isn’t too odd of a sight for you.
You realize Shimi has been speaking the whole time you were watching the two play, and quickly tune back into her voice.
“-so that’s why I- um…why we both think it would be good if you could maybe, if you dont mind of course! If you could…PleaseTrainMeToBeATamerLikeYou!” Shemi has her eyes squeezed shut as she practically word vomits the rest of her sentence at you, face bright red.
She reminds you of someone you used to know when she does that. A younger girl from 2000 years ago who you loved dearly, one who asked you the exact same thing. While at the time you were only seventeen, your younger sister was eight. Much younger than Shemi is now, yes, but the innocence in asking is where the connection lies.
A young Blonde girl runs up to you, her head barely clearing your first set of ribs. Her Blue eyes are shining with joy that extends out into her entire being. She jumps and wraps her arms around your middle, curls nestled against your neck as you pick her up and spin. She giggles, telling you to stop, that she has something important to tell you. You can’t remember what it was exactly, maybe she had summoned a fae for the first time? Lured one into a circle? It doesn’t matter now. What matters is what she asks you a few moments later.
You both sit on the ground now, curled under the willow tree that sits just beside your beloved pond. She is red in the face, embarrassed but prideful in her ask. Determined to get her favorite big sister to share her knowledge no matter how young she may be, or if her Majik would even allow her to partake in the ritual. Celina was always stubborn. As she squeezed her eyes shut tight, face scrunching with the effort, she nearly shouted her request.
“PleaseTeachMeYourSummoningMajik!”
“Ms.(l/n)?”
You blink quickly a few times before realizing you have just been silently staring at Shemi for the past few moments. She looks to be on the verge of tears. The poor thing, you can’t imagine her taking it well if you said no at this point.
“Y’know, how about after this training weekend, we start to meet after your classes? I do have some other respondibilitys I need to take care of, but a couple days a week we can work one on one, Okay? Just remember, im not a vatican certifi-”
“Oh Thank you! Thank you!” Shemi exclaims, pure joy in her tone. She quickly hugs you tight, and you stiffen. Aside from Amicus, you haven’t exactly been the huggy type. You awkwardly wrap your arms around her, patting the top of her head twice as it rests on your collar bone. Shemi pulls away as a ball of energy, grabbing Nee who has made its way back to the desk at some point and running out the room, shouting gratuities along the way.
You watch her go with a raised eyebrow as Amicus makes her way to your feet, nudging one with her closest head and staring up at you.
“What have i gotten myself into this time Ami?” chuckling as you grab your things, deciding paperwork can wait, you walk to the class door and close it, pulling out your key and inserting it into the rusted key hole.
As you walk back into the small apartment you have been calling home, you begin to gather your things. You have a training weekend to pack for, and something in your gut is screaming to prepare. Who knows what you all might run into in the middle of the woods.
A/N: finally had time to write. Not sure if anyone is reading this but I hope someone is enjoying it! This is a good bit shorter than the last one, but the next will hopefully be much longer! constructive criticism is more than welcomed!
The ground is cold now. Ice has settled within the earth, and you can almost feel the weakness within your magik as you walk the old path to your meeting place. It is always the same, the pond where you had first met. It feels like a lifetime ago now, Amaimon having taken so much space within your heart and mind as of late. He has consumed every thought you have, making this all the more heartbreaking.
Your father has finally picked his suitors, and you are to be married in the coming months. Your sisters are also promised to others, but a selfish part of you envies them. They have no lover to leave behind. In that sentiment, you are completely alone. While many say it is better to have loved and lost, you cannot help but wish to have never loved at all.
As you approach the pond, you find him already waiting. When these meetings had first begun, he often would appear later, if at all. Now he is always the first to arrive. As his gaze moves from the frosted grass to your face, his expression changes in ways only you can see. He does not smile, you’re not sure if he is capable of such a thing, but his eyes widen slightly, his brow raising ever so gently, and his perpetual expression of boredom shifts to one of contentness. His lips quirk ever so slightly, not enough to constitute as a grin, but just shy of an almost smile. If he is happy, it is obviously due to seeing you.
His expression darkens, however, as words you can no longer remember result in muffled murmurs falling from your lips. You are telling him of your betrothal. You may not remember exactly what is said, but you recall his eyes, golden pools swimming with an emotion you cannot quite place. Anger? Sadness? Disappointment? In the moment it all seemed so unclear.
Time blurs past, and suddenly it is spring. You stand in wedding garb, the floor-length mirror in front of you glaring sunlight onto your face, blinding your reflection. Behind you stand your younger sisters and brother. You make a comment, something about older sisters and little brothers, and the girls giggle as your brother reminds you that being 3 minutes older than him is no real accomplishment. He tacks on some kind of insult at the end of the sentence, one intending to help settle your nerves more so than create any real sting.
You realize then you would not see a single one of them for some time, your future husband insisting you live in an area hours away by horseback, let alone carriage. Sera, your second sister, places the final comb in your hair, kissing you on the cheek before leaving the room. She would never admit it, but you could feel the wetness on her face from her silent tears. Your other sisters follow her example, walking out of the room with silent pity in their leaving just you and your twin in the room alone. He stares at you through the looking glass, opening his mouth to speak before quickly shutting it. Nothing he could say will fix the situation, both of you are acutely aware. He most likely wants to say that if your soon-to-be husband hurts you then he will kill him, but the gentleman is much your brother's senior, and any fight between the two would end in Erebos’s death. Instead of words, he resorts to a tight hug. A minute passes as you silently weep into his shoulder before he pushes you to arm's length.
“You are powerful, you will survive, then you will thrive.”
He says it with such certainty, you almost believe him. You give a weak smile, and he returns the gesture. He quickly walks out of the room, and you are alone. You look back into the reflective surface you stood before. Studying your features, you almost miss the figure slowly crawling through the window behind you. The room is on the third floor, and there is no tree to climb, a detail your father was sure to implement to keep you from running. Turning on your heel, you would have knocked the figure down had he not been much stronger than he physically appeared. As arms secure around your waist, you feel a pull within your mind.
“BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.”
You startle awake, confused for a moment as to where you were. The warmth at your feet and crick in your neck tells you that you have inevitably fallen asleep at your desk doing paperwork. Your phone reads 3:27 am, and your sudden wakefulness is explained by the 4 text message notifications on your screen. They're from the headmaster. Great, as if the night couldn't possibly get better.
Sighing, you peel yourself from the wood of the desk, feeling the splinters that now stick to your hand and cheek. Pulling yourself up from your chair, you stretch, popping your shoulders and back. With a groan, you grab your bag. You know why you received the texts without needing to read them. You were supposed to have a meeting hours ago, obviously you slept through the initial time. Giving a short whistle, Amicus is quickly at your side. You half stubble to the classroom door, your legs still asleep from lack of use. Pushing your key into the door, you give it a jerky twist before opening it.
What stands before you through the doorway is an office, obviously the headmasters. Three people sit in the room, with Mephisto behind the desk, Shura in a chair across from him, and another woman sitting on the ledge of the bay window behind them both. You freeze, just for a moment, the air in your lungs becoming stuck. This isn’t anything unexpected necessarily. You should have known she would be hanging around somewhere near him, you just assumed you wouldn’t see her for a long while yet.
“Ah, Ms.(L/N), how kind of you to finally join us” Mephisto says, pulling you from your thoughts. Shura tilts her head back slightly before turning it so she can see you. She seems annoyed at whatever you have just walked into, and it’s clear whatever it is involves you. The other woman perks slightly, but keeps her eyes glued to the window, most likely walking you through the reflection it gives. She must have not been quite prepared to see you either.
“Please, have a seat, have a seat. Don’t be shy, none of us bite” Mephisto jests.
“I do.” Shura chimes in dryly. You hold in a snicker,
Sitting in the seat next to Shura, you prepare for whatever orders you’re undoubtedly going to receive. Amicus curls her body against your leg, four of her five heads resting on the floor while the last stays alert. She is nothing if not loyal.
When Rin Okumura's training is brought up, you’re not surprised. Shura, though, is.
“Why exactly would some tamer, one technically not licensed by the Vatican to begin with, help with his training?”
“Oh, Ms.Kirigakure, I can assure you that our friend here is much more than ‘some tamer’. At one time she was even dear friends with Father Fujimoto. He entrusted her with Rin's secret many years ago. Not to mention, her abilities go beyond that of a normal tamer. Not just anyone can summon and control a hydra with such ease.”
“Fine, she's a good tamer, so what?”
“She is more than just a tamer, if licensed by the Vatican I would assume she would qualify as a doctor as well. I have yet to meet another healer quite as proficient. She would be good to have around during Rins training.”
The two continue to go back and forth. Could you interrupt and make your case? Sure. Will you? Not a chance. You stopped competing to show your worth years ago, and you don't intend to start now. You couldn't if you wanted to anyway. Ilaria is finally looking at you. Neither of you attempts to say anything just stare. Both of you hold blank expressions at first, Ilaria being the first to give you a small smile.
The last time you had seen her was around twelve hundred years ago when you both happened to be in the Middle East. She looks a bit different now, it’s obvious Mephisto has had a stylistic influence on her. You suppose it’s still better than his gaudy top hat and suit. She wears a simple flowing white dress with a royal purple blazer and tights. Purple was always her favorite color. Must explain the obvious lavender marriage she is now in, fate can be funny like that,
You pull away from her gaze as you hear Shura shout, agreeing to whatever terms Mephisto has come up with.
“But it’s gonna have to wait till after the training exercise next week, I’m stressed enough dealing with all the bullshit Yukio keeps putting on me to plan the damn thing.”
“But of course, I wouldn't dream of putting more stress on you than-”
“So next week after the training camp, right? Am I good to go now? Hate to sound like a bitch, but it's four in the morning and I would love to sleep in my bed instead of on my desk.” you cut them off, beyond tired and ready to just get a few hours of sleep before your class later that day. Both mumble agreement before you shoot up, Amicus startling awake after having fallen asleep mid-conversation. You make your way back to the door you walked in though, putting in the key and opening it to your small room. Your turn back, saying a quick goodnight. You lock eyes with her again, and you can tell she wants to say something, instead giving a slight wave as you walk through the door. It may have been centuries, but you were always good at reading your sister.
You remove your boots, Amicus already curled onto your pillow and snoozing peacefully. Walking to the kitchen, you make yourself a cup noodle, it being the quickest and easiest thing in your apartment to make. You consider watching some trash TV, a habit you picked up while in the States ten years ago. Deciding against it, you quickly slurp down your noodles before making your way to the bathroom.
You turn on the light, its yellow hue making the off-white tiles look much dingier than they probably were. Turning on the shower, you strip your clothes and hop into the steaming stream. You stand there for some time, not quite sure how long you stay standing there until the water starts to lose its sting. Quickly washing your hair and body, you turn off the water and exit the shower. You start to dry your hair with a towel after wiping the mirror clean of condensation.
As you stare into the mirror, your neck begins to throb. A soft golden glow begins to emit from your eyes, a ring of light surrounding your pupal as you bring your fingers to the junction between your neck and shoulder. In the space your fingers now occupy is a large green mark about the size of a dinner plate. It swirls much like a hobgoblin’s skin, traveling up the side of your neck and down your shoulder to your chest. Inside the green swirls, golden lines cross each other repeatedly, creating a complex geometric design. As the sting grows the lines become brighter. You stare in disbelief, having not seen your mark do this in eighteen hundred years. Not since you left Gahanna. It can only mean one thing, Amaimon is in Assiah. More precisely, he's in Japan.
Spooked, you proceed to throw on a hoodie to cover the mark. It’s late, and you quite frankly don’t have the mental capacity to deal with this right now. You walk across the narrow hall into the bedroom, shutting off the lights and pulling back your comforter. The second you move to slide into the warm cocoon you plan to make yourself, Amicus slides herself off your pillow and into the space next to yours. You cover both of you up, her slithering to cling to your body, her tail instinctually wrapping with your own. This also startles you, as you haven’t had a tail in almost two thousand years. Not since the fight, not since you started wishing you could just forget about the claim tattooed on your body like a brand. Anger, sadness, and fear flood your senses, knowing that more traits such as these will appear the closer you get to him, knowing he may be here to try and take you back. At that thought, a small part of you, just a flicker of something in the deepest crevice of your heart, feels almost hopeful. You squash it immediately, you cannot allow it, not after what he did. Not after Amaimon let her die.
You force your eyes shut, willing yourself to hopefully fall into a dreamless sleep. As sleep begins to take your mind, colors begin to flash behind your eyelids. Memories of a pond in the forest behind your childhood home take over, and you're quickly dragged back to a time where that flicker was instead a blazing inferno.
This is my first fic, so please don't expect it to be any good. I'm proud of what I have for the first chapter so far! It's not great, but...it's something that's for sure...and it's not like 3 total paragraphs, and it has DIALOGUE! Anyway, enjoy and lmk if y'all have any constructive criticism, lord knows I probably need it
The sun is blinding, shining against the lotus pond. A quiet purr can be heard emanating out of the chest of the green-furred beast sitting next to its master. The pond water is soothing, the blisters on the bottoms of your feet appreciating the reprieve from the unforgiving forest floor. He speaks.
“Are you going to leave soon?”
“Hmm?”
“Are you going to leave?”
“...maybe, once I know the elders assembly is over.”
“Assembly?”
“My father is consulting with the elders, deciding if my siblings and I are to wed.”
“How boring.”
“SOMETHING HAPPENS AND I'M HEAD OVER HEELS!”
“....Pardon?”
“DON’T TAKE MY HEART, DON’T BREAK MY HEART”
“...”
You slowly blink your eyes open, your alarm clock blaring whatever 80’s song the station is set to deem fit at 6 am. You groan in frustration, sitting up quickly to slam your fist against the silence button. As you sit on the edge of the bed, you contemplate simply going back to sleep. While your body would appreciate it, you get the feeling your bank account would have a much different opinion. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you slowly stand, your joints popping in protest in their stiff state. Shuffling to the small oak table next to the desk, you crack your back as you start the coffee pot. While you spent the majority of your life on the eastern side of the world, your short time in the United States truly hooked you on the caffeinated beverage. Waiting for the brewing process to finalize, you yank a hanger out of the small closet, closet being a glorified term as it realistically can only hold a total of 8 hangers at once. The fabric you pulled is a deep black, a seemingly drab color choice, but one that is required for your newest position as a teacher. Quickly dressing seems to have been the wrong choice, as you end up on the floor half-dressed, having knocked over the papers that previously sat on your desk destined to end in your bag. Grabbing the sheets off the ground, you haphazardly shove them into your bag, content to leave the reorganizing to your future self.
As if the morning had finally decided to take mercy on you, the coffee pot is finally filled. This leads to the obvious outcome of a full Thermus brimming with the bitter liquid resting in your hand as you trudge out the bedroom door. The fridge is your next stop, opening its door to find your premade lunch. Shoving it into the top of your backpack, you finally grab your key. Walking to the front door, which happens to be the closest door containing a keyhole, you slide the key into the lock, giving it a quick twist before heaving the heavy thing open.
The room you come to occupy in the next few seconds is cold, made of stone walls and no windows. It reeks of blood and mildew, a scent you have familiarized yourself with in previous years. The ancient desk, even by your standards, seems to be on the last leg. It wobbles violently as you place your bag down, pulling from it your summoning papers made for the upcoming lesson, amongst other items that you place around the room. Although they will become important for future lectures, they are unimpressive in this moment.
Completing your self-assigned tasks with a few minutes to spare, you sit at the desk to organize the papers you couldn’t bother with earlier. Of course, expecting to do this in peace is just a willful delusion, as another teacher, a young man, or maybe more of an older boy, walks in with a woman. As you nod to acknowledge their presence, him wearing the same uniform as you, and her wearing barely anything at all, you wonder what could be so important they felt the need to interrupt the only 5 minutes of free time you’ll see for the next 6 or so hours.
“Ms.(l/n), it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, my name is Yukio Okumura, I’m another teacher here. This is Shura, do you have a moment?’ the boy, Yukio, introduces the pair.
“Nice to meet you, I guess I have a few minutes before my class starts, what do you need?”
Yukio begins to drone on, talk of schedules and lesson plans going in one ear and out the other. All things you’ve already discussed with the headmaster in detail. The woman, Shura, seems just as disinterested as you, leaning against the student desk closest to the open door. It’s obvious that, much like yourself, she would rather be anywhere else but here listening to a 15-year-old go on about the importance of test dates. You wonder for a moment if the next time there is a new hire, it will be you who sits in front of them, never seeming to shut up.
“...can understand, especially with what happened in regards with Neuhaus.” You suddenly zone back into the one-sided conversation with Yukio Okumura, simply nodding to give the impression you had been listening all along.
“Of course, I-” you’re interrupted.
“C’mon kid, give her a break. Didn’t anyone ever tell you to save the trauma dumping for after the first week?” Shura gives a half-hearted laugh. “Her class is about to start, you can give her a patdown later.”
You raise an eyebrow, but as Okumura quickly apologizes, clearly flustered by Shura's statement, they both say their goodbyes. While Shura walks out calmly, amused with herself by the looks of the smirk she wears, he seems to rush out ahead of her. As soon as he is out of sight, Shura calls out one last comment over her shoulder right outside the doorway.
“Good luck newbie, you’re gonna need it with this set.”
You give her a puzzled look; however, you quickly realize her meaning as you hear several sets of footsteps and a heated argument taking place in the hall. As the sounds grow closer, you can’t help but rub your face with both hands. You can already tell this is going to be a rough morning.
Your new students file into the classroom, their own groups apparent in the small crowd. As they begin to take their seats, you look over a file from your bag. Rin Okumura, the boy who is seen sitting at the front of the class with a young blonde girl. The file explains what you’ve already known for years now, that he’s not completely human. His slightly pointed ears and the subtle shuffling under his shirt, likely a tail, give him away if you know what to look for. It’s beyond obvious to you at least. The headmaster said to keep a close eye on him, so you shall. However, the class must begin and everyone seems to have finally quieted down. Time for your introduction.
“Hello class, my name is (y/n)(l/n). I will be your new instructor. I normally would have everyone stand and introduce themselves, but I haven't been given a roster, and I frankly couldn’t care less. You all seem familiar enough with each other, and from what I’ve been told, I will undoubtedly learn quite a few names quickly. Any Questions?” you announce to the class, a few making a face at your mini-speech. One student, a boy with a blond mohawk, raises his hand, not waiting to be called on to speak.
“What do you mean you ‘couldnt care less’, isn’t caring part of the job description?”
“Name?” you ask quietly.
“Huh?”
“Your name kid, what is it?” you repeat yourself, a slight irritation obvious in your face and tone. What can you say? bad habits die hard.
“Ryuji Suguro.”
“Well, Mr.Ryuji Suguro, I meant that I quite frankly couldn’t care less. Names are pointless in the grand scheme of things. Will they help later on? Yes, Do I need your name to start today's lesson? No. I am perfectly capable of both teaching and protecting my students regardless of their names or backgrounds. Unless you seem already to doubt my abilities after a 2-minute interaction? By all means, if you have concerns surrounding my abilities as a teacher in this institution, I am more than happy to provide a demonstration” You’re smiling, but judging by the reactions of the students, it is nothing short of unsettling. The blonde in the front, while seeming uncomfortable, looks almost curious at your offer. The Greenman on her shoulder tells you everything you need to know, the students were most likely told you were a tamer. With how rare they tend to be, most exwires with the ability tend to stick together.
“I didn’t mean to disresp-” Suguro begins, but is caught off.
“You know what, yeah, we want a demonstration! Can you blame us? I mean, the last teacher tried to kill us, why wouldn't we be nervous dealing with you when you talk like that? Maybe if you show us, we won’t ask again.” Okumura cuts in, causing a bald boy closer to the back of the class to pale considerably at his declaration. It’s usually rude to just demand things from your teachers, something Okumura seems to forget.
You freeze for a moment, contemplating what was just demanded of you. You’re reminded of a time when you were much younger, transported back for just a moment.
“Show me.”
“It’s not exactly appropriate, y’know, for a lady to do.”
“I don’t care, show me. I won't ask again”
You come back to reality, shaking your head slightly to re-focus. Looking up, you see the students eye you expectantly, some fearful of repercussion, others nervous of what you might possibly do to ‘prove yourself’. A smirk slowly makes its way onto your face, and you quickly grab a piece of chalk off your desk.
“Okay then”
You draw the summoning circle on the desk, a practiced ease the comes from years of creating them is held within your movement. Just seconds later, you have a decently complex circle on the surface, and a small knife in your hand. You give one last look to your students, silently asking if they are ready for what they may witness. When you see them all leaning forward in their seats, some having moved farther to the front or back of the class for better views, you remove the cover of the knife. The slice to your finger is a dull sting, one you barely notice as you let the blood drips onto the circle, awaiting your voice to finish the contract. You whisper your words quietly enough for nobody else to hear, then begin to step away. As the circle begins to glow, you casually look at your students.
“You may want to take a few steps back” you say, your smirk transforming into an almost maniacal grin.
They all quickly begin to back away as your summoning intensifies, scorching the desk it takes place on. As it completes, you stand behind the demon, though you cannot be seen. You hear several shocked gasps, and one scream rings out. While it is very feminine, something tells you it wasn’t one of the girls. Walking to the side of the massive demon you summoned, you smile fondly.
“Amicus, shrink, you’re going to hurt your heads.” you pat the side of the beast's body and one of her heads nuzzles to your own.
“Is that a-”
“Hydra? Yes, she is.” You cut off one of the students, the bald one who was smart enough to stay back from the beginning.
As Amicus slowly shrinks down to the size of a very large dog you pull a meat stick out of your coat pocket, breaking it into five pieces to give to her five heads. Satisfied with her snack, she slithers her way to hide under your desk before curling up for a nap. The students seem much more interested, and terrified, of her than she is them.
“Alright, demonstration over, back in your seats!” you bark out.
“Wait-”
“But-”
“How did-”
“Seats! Now! I will not repeat myself!”
The students slowly sit, seemingly disappointed that you won’t let them ask their burning questions. You begin writing the lesson for the day on the board, the history of demonology and the Ba’al, before finally turning to face the class yet again.
“Today, we’re going to focus on the earliest depictions of the Ba’al, and what they were considered during the more paganistic societies that held power at the time. Does anyone know why they are called kings?”
Surugo raises his hand, “Because all other demon types are their kin.”
You shake you head before correcting him, “because they used to be viewed as gods.”
This is obviously news to the students, most quickly flipping through their notes, trying to find wherever this statement was made before in their studies.
“None of you will find what you’re looking for in any of your notes, and I highly doubt the Vatican would ever let it be recorded. A lot of what we will cover in this class won’t be in any textbook, much like most of exorcism in general, but what we will cover? Not even the Vatican wants to be common knowledge.”
“Then why would we cover it?” A girl with purple hair and odd eyebrows comments, rolling her eyes at your antics.
“Because, knowledge is power, and frankly, isn’t hidden history just so much more interesting?” You have a gleam in your eye, a slight smile to match it. If you were going to be a glorified history teacher, you were going to teach the real history whether anyone liked it or not. To your surprise, however, about half the students seem to almost become excited at the idea.
“Let me ask you this class, have any of the heard the the ‘queens of hell’?” you get blank stares in response to your question.
“Well, as the legend goes, about 2000 years ago a deal was struck with a very powerful family. Their abilities in Majik were unrivaled, however the patriarch wanted to ensure that his line would remain the most powerful, so he struck a deal with Satan himself. He would provide a bride or husband for each of the Ba’al, in exchange for his eldest son and his blood line to become the most powerful witches and warlocks in their own given times.”
You begin writing the names of the Ba’al on the board, along with the birth order of their betrothed. Sneaking a peak behind you, you notice that all the students, save for the creepy one with a puppet, give you their complete attention, some of them writing down your new lecture word for word.
“Satan originally thought this to be a useless deal, until he realized that every single child offered by the man had immense power in their own right. Again, at the time this family’s magik was well known and uncontested. While a contract like this would mean the children would become more powerful, having gained some of their power due to the mating bite-”
“The WHAT?” Rin Okumura shouts out, a few others joining him in the sentiment of pure and utter ‘what the fuck?’,
You pause for a second, looking at the students confused. The realization hits you, the exwires don’t even understand the most basic of all mating rituals within demon culture. More jarringly, Rin, who is half demon himself, also doesn’t know. While the likelihood is low, it is not impossible that his demonic nature could manifest in him attempting to give someone a mark at any time. You decide to let yourself become sidetracked yet again to explain.
“A mating mark is specific to demons. While not uncommon for higher-level demons to take lovers, a mating mark is the closest thing demons have to marriage. It ties them to another being forever, gives their partner access to a portion of their power, and vice versa. Additionally, the marks originally will look like a bite, always to the crook between the neck and shoulder, however their long term appearance is affected by the stronger of the two specifically. A pwerful demon with yellow coloration mating with say a demon with purple coloration would end in a patter of some kind that is distinctly yellow, maybe containing a smaller amount of purple if the second demon is also powerful. Any questions?”
A few students raise their hands, all wanting to know how exactly you know all of this. You disregard answering and continue where you left off before.
“Anyways, due to the mating mark, the children would gain some of the power from the individual demon they would be paired with, but the Ba’al would also receive a boost due the the power each of their betrothed carried, the oldest being the strongest, and youngest weakest.”
“Then why was the eldest paired with him?” The purple haired girl, who you think someone called Izumo earlier, asked.
You figured someone would notice eventually, as the eldest of the Ba’al was paired with the second eldest of the human brides.
“He took claim of her first. That was what initially struck the deal, as he was the one who helped the father convince satan. Some versions of the legends say he was trying to help the father strike the deal with all of the Ba’al and the family children, other versions say he was trying to keep the girl from being murdered due to being his mate. The truth, sadly, will have to remain unknown.” Your tone is almost somber in its explanation, something that seems to leak out into the classroom and affect the other students.
“Which do you think?” the blonde asks,
“I’m sorry?”
“Do you think it was to save her? Or was he trying to get more power?”
The blonde girl's question takes you aback for a moment, and you have to think about it before you answer.
“I suppose-”
“Totally for power” Rin cuts you off, many of his classmates mirroring his response.
The girl flushes from what you assume to be embarrassment, and you almost follow suit. A younger version of you surely would have. The class has begun chatting amongst themselves, debating about the different brides. You’re about to call the lesson for the day, deeming it a lost cause, before the blonde, whose name you know because of Rin chastizing her when she argued against his opinion, speaks up.
“What happened to them?”
The class is suddenly silent, so you speak.
“Well, as the legend goes, the second eldest is still with her king, maybe the third eldest died in childbirth along with her firstborn, and the eldest supposedly lives in Assiah with humans. The rest are unknown, I would assume they’re all either dead or in Ghenna. This legend is thousands of years old, though, so really who's to say?”
“What about the brother?” the pink haired kid, Shima, asks.
“If he got his power? As long as his bloodline continued, i suppose his descendants are running around somewhere. Magik isn’t nearly as common now, so most users don’t go showing people what they can do anymore.”
“Do you think they still talk? The siblings?” Rin chimes in.
“It wouldn’t matter either way.” Izuma cuts out. “They all probably got murdered by their ‘husbands’ by now”
“I don’t think so, siblings can be complicated, and 2000 years is a long time for family drama to take place.” You almost giggle to yourself. It’s not funny, but it’s easier to laugh at it.
It’s finally time for class to be dismissed. As you’re left in the room alone, aside from Amicus who still sleeps under the desk, you remove your jacket. Its constricting collar causes the green blotch on your shoulder to itch. Its design is hidden under yesterday's makeup still, but you trace it from memory as you finish the last of your paperwork you weren't able to complete earlier due to Yukio and Shura. You were surprised to see Yukio, let alone Rin, having last seen both as young children. The last you can recall seeing them was just a few months after Yuri's death and their birth. Satan, it feels like it was just yesterday.
I have no posts and no followers so this probably won’t see the light of day, but it’s 1:53 am and I’m up reading yumihisu fanfics from 2014 and I just had this thought I needed to share.
Does anyone ever read these older fics and just think about their age? It’s almost like time travel, right? You’re looking into a time in fandom where so many things hadn’t happened yet, secrets not yet revealed, ship wars that have yet to exist. To see a ship you hold close because even if it’s painful in canon it was the first you ever saw that matched who you were in some small way, and it’s young again. It’s all new, and the angst hasn’t hit, and the tragedy isn’t tragic yet.
And then I look at the comments. 2013, 2014, 2017, 2018. All are people, who at one time or another, have read the exact same work I have, and have enjoyed it enough to make a comment. And it’s not just fanfic either, it’s YouTube comments, it’s old vine compilations, it’s late 90s and early 2000s music. It goes beyond nostalgia, it is for just a moment, seeing peaks into peoples lives in a more in-depth way than any history book I have ever read. It is a diary of humanity when things were easier, when we were all young and bright eyed and full of hope.
I feel that since Covid, even before it, the world has been so dull. Colors are faded, and sounds are muted, and smiles aren’t as wide anymore. But tonight, even if for one moment, I caught a glimpse of what once was. I saw the beginning of a world I had just discovered over 10 years ago. I saw a hole in history, and I remembered myself. I remembered humanity. I remember when I cared about people beyond a surface level, when I had empathy and sympathy carved so deep into my heart that I bled comfort and love. I remembered the little things, the fallen log in the woods behind my papas house, just past the field that was decided by and electric pole, and the hill covered in cherry blossoms that I dug arrow heads up from, I remembered my wooden easel that I painted when I ran out of paper, and my bed frame that was once white and ended in an array of pastel colors. I remember when I liked pink and purple like the walls of my bedroom before first grade. I remembered when I started to hate pink and purple. I remembered the bullies from elementary school. I remember my fourth grade teacher convincing me to read The Stone Child, and how it was the first time I had finished a proper book. I remember looking for any horror book I could find after. I remember starting middle school and being so scared of what would come. I remember making a huge card for my seventh grade math teacher because he was retiring, and him hugging me and the other student who helped, because I don’t think he expected that from any of us. I remember starting highschool and trying to figure out who I was. I remember my mom getting cancer. I remember theatre being an escape. I remember friends I haven’t spoken to in years, and some I still speak to today. I remember the little kid who would think “future me, please tell me it will be okay” and I now think of the adult me who says, “yeah, it will be”.
Maybe this is all nonsensical rambling, but now I can’t help but think of a game I played for the first time after watching YouTubers play it online. There’s a specific quote that I don’t think I really understood until this moment, one that I saw make others cry in…I’m not sure, relief? Sadness? Happiness?
“Despite everything, it’s still you”
Despite everything, reading those comments on a random ballerina AU fic written over 10 years ago reminded me that yes, after everything that has happened, things I’ve caused and things I’ve never had control over, the little kid who believed in people still exists. She is a part of me that has never and always existed. Everything she was, and everything she ever will be, is who I am. Everything any child was and will ever be is who they are. Everything a child could have been and will be, is who humanity is.
We are angry, and selfish, and cruel.
But
We are kind, and we are hopeful, and we are love.
Not that we are loved, or that we do love
We are the embodiment of the concept.
And this is all the sleep deprived ramblings of a 21 year old who has no idea if I am actually writing this or if I am just dreaming it. Who knows, either way I won’t remember it in the morning. Tbh I barely remember it now.
