Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

This is hell.

That's not a joke. This is the netherworld, and for some reason, he's been reincarnated as a demon. That is literally not how the afterlife works, in any religion, and honestly, he's just stumped. Plus, the demons here seem to regard humanity as mythology.

So... well, it honestly makes no sense.

"Don't touch 'im, Sivvi," the father warns. "And get out of the room. Keep your distance."

His older sister, who looked barely any older than five, pouts. She had deep gray hair, but bright scarlet eyes. Her eyes met his own for a long, thoughtful moment, and he felt entranced by the beauty in that curious, hopeful gaze.

Obediently she steps away from the crib, smiling once more at the infant before waving, and leaving through the door.

"Bye bye, Soyo!"

The last thing he sees is his father's cold, contemplative eyes, sharply focused on him in the doorway. The shoji doors rolled shut, and that was it.

Vassago Soyo lives the first three years of his life only seeing his nanny and no one else. And even then, she keeps minimal contact, not ever touching him except for necessary measures, always wearing gloves.

But he remembers that scarlet gaze, and he shivers. Suddenly, in a way he can't even describe— information begins to build in his head.

He learns, each time his sister sneaks a glance into his room, a little more.

They don't talk, they don't do more than smile at each other— and yet, Soyo learns more about the family each day. He learns about the world he's in, how everyone has horns and wings and the tail of a demon, how he has two older brothers and an estranged mother that's in solitary confinement.

He learns that he's alone now, as is the tradition for the Vassago house. Something about our Bloodline Magic (there's magic?) being heavily influenced by contact, and thus, to avoid any complications in the most important years of maturity, he's kept apart.

He learns, bit by bit, the information coming to him with each moment of that scarlet gaze.

Oh, he realises one day, between fiddling with his own tail and wondering why his horns looked every bit like dog ears instead—

—wait, isn't this the Netherworld of that one manga?

In his past, he spent most of his youth with an air rifle in one hand.

The protective headphones were always a comforting weight against his ears, sealing him off into a chamber of his own privacy, allowing him into a world of just him and the targets he had to shoot.

"You'll definitely win the Olympics," his coach told him. "You're our team's pride and joy!"

"Our little prince!"

"Keep rising!" the world cheered. "We want to watch you soar!"

And, riding that high, he went on, pompous and arrogant, up the ranks of junior championships. Regionals, Nationals, and on and on.

He was the youngest contestant, just barely legal to join, but he still thrived against the competition, and snatched the victory right from under their noses. And he laughed, and he spun, and he luxuriated in the attention.

Perhaps he was being too precocious.

Every other contestant was much older, bigger, and stronger than him. So there was nothing he could do when they organised a retaliation.

He entered his locker room, walking right into an air gun firing at his face.

The gun blows through his eyes and then, a foot stamps down his spine. The culprits were arrested very quickly after that, but the genius youth was reduced to a sensational sob story.

He lived, unfortunately.

He lived in shame, disgraced, unable to ever fire a gun again. He closed his eyes to the world as they turned away from him, too ashamed of his embarrassing turnout to do much more than mock him. Even his mother couldn't do more than weakly assure him that she still loved him.

"Have you heard? The kid's a loser shut-in now."

"Heard he does all that weeaboo crap. Streams on Twitch, games all day, cosplay."

"How the mighty have fallen!"

He startles awake to the cold reality that was his other life.

He turned into an utter bum, after that. He dropped out of school, and there was no chance of him ever learning how to hold a job while declared legally blind. So he turned to games, to freelance work, and never quite managed to earn a solid living with his paltry skills.

He had been a disappointment to the bitter end, and since he had no idea how he met his end, he just knew that he devastated his mother on the way out.

He was such a fucking failure.

"Soyo."

His wails are cut short when his father speaks to him, appearing by his crib. The older man cradles him in his arms— the first genuine, personal contact he's ever had in this life— and rocked him, ever so gently.

The man sits down, and Soyo blinks away the tears to meet stern red ones.

"If you wake your brothers, they'll be insufferable in the morning."

Father is a rough, unkempt man, large and covered in scars. His hair, curled and scruffed like the mane of a wild beast, framed his cold frown with an uncharacteristic tenderness.

Also... why does he have dog ears?

His eyes tell stories of cruelty and war. Of comfort, found only in the solace known as belonging. Soyo reaches out, stubby fingers taken in by a surprisingly gentle, chapped hand ten times as large as his own.

And Soyo knows that this man is exhausted.

Father looks down, and his scowl gives way to a smile as he notices Soyo has stopped wailing. A gentle finger, nails long and slightly ticklish, brushes against his cheek, wiping the tears away.

"We of the Vassago house are wolves," Father says, like a declaration. "We are a pack, a family. And here the strong protect the weak, and no one is left behind."

No one is left behind.

Soyo cries louder.

Father sighs. "Looks like my youngest is a little crybaby, huh?" he walks, looking out the door toward the full moon. "That's fine. Cry all you want. I'll be here."

Soyo wasn't an only child in his past life. He had siblings, too, but with his rise to fame, he distanced himself from everyone. There was a divorce, a family separation... he didn't even remember how many siblings he had, or their names, or their faces anymore.

He couldn't help but feel guilty that he ruined everything back then.

(But now...)

(Now... perhaps, it could be better.)

"What a mournful noise you have, my child," he says, planting a kiss on his child's forehead. "It's muffled, confused, and filled with grief. We will have to fix that."

One of Soyo's legs is underdeveloped, barely fixed by a heavy brace and a crutch for him to limp his way along. No one cares, though, they look out for each other with acceptance, not contempt.

Soyo looks into their eyes and he sees nothing but love. From the servants that cheer him on when he makes a long lap. No one rejects him, and he finds genuine ease in this household.

His siblings are rarely home, as their clan operates very closely with the Netherworld Security from a very young age. So Soyo has yet to meet them.

Children of the Vassago house usually have gray or silver hair. Soyo's was a metallic silver, nearly black, and he often found himself entranced by the magical shade.

"Come here, Soyo."

He's five now, but Father still lifts him in his arms when they go out.

The hospital is abuzz. Soyo can hear the frantic orders on the other side of the glass pane as the doctors try their best to save a life.

Demons are much sturdier than humans, but they are also much stronger. So a situation like this, where a demon's at the edge of their life barely holding on— it's rare. There's a child in that room, and his hopes for survival are bleak.

"Demons have many secrets, many underlying interests, and little empathy for others," he says. "That is why, we of the Vassago house, who are different, have many enemies."

They are police dogs. Their Bloodline magic, which allowed them to solve any crime, discover every secret— it was a threat to many demons.

"He will live," Father says.

His eyes are full of strain, anxious and full of rage— yet, he was desperately shoving it all down for composure. His words alone were filled with confidence.

The teenager on that operating table was Vassago Van, the oldest son and Soyo's older brother.

"Come, Soyo," Father turns. "I will show you how our house cares for our own."

Soyo stares into the mortified eyes of Azazel Henri as his father kisses him full on the lips, in broad daylight, surrounded by the servants of the household who were all equally flabbergasted by the sight.

There's a blast of fire and acid and a wave of immensely indecipherable expletives, and his Father is laughing, leaping back from the assault.

"SAGA YOU IRREDEEMABLE MUTT I WILL STICK MY FOOT UP YOUR—"

Father laughs light-heartedly, and every eye in the vicinity respectfully turns away upon ascertaining that the man was not a threat. Soyo finds resignation in Azazel Henri's eyes, not anger, and he wonders upon the implications of that.

"Oh, I see," Father says, licking his lips. "It's that nameless house up the Mountain of Eternal Strife... they did that to my pup. Thanks for the information."

"If you would just ASK, I would just have TOLD YOU," there's overblown frustration in that voice, like he's trying his best not to strangle him, and somehow Azazel Henri's hair is rising like the anger is fueling his hair strands.

"But I don't trust ya, you guys butter up your language with formalities and shit and it always takes forever."

He hums, leaning down to pick up Soyo, who he'd put on the ground moments ago. (And Soyo, after his father just told him to 'sit boy', just decided that a good boy stays still. He has no idea why he obeyed. Dog instinct.)

"Well whatever then. Let's go, Soyo, Father will bring you to your first bloodbath."

"Hold it right there, Saga! Don't you dare! Leave the kid here, I can get my daughter to keep him occupied!"

"Don't wanna. Soyo's going to be the world's cutest murder baby."

"Don't even joke about it!"

Soyo still has no idea why his father just kissed a presumably married man and everyone is laughing it off. Is this one of those situations? The ones you see in those raunchy doujins?

...also, that was totally Azazel Ameri's father, right? Is this really how his first interaction with the canon material is going to go?

But first of all... he's scared stiff.

What's the mountain of eternal strife? What is that name that promises nothing but danger? How did Father know so much from just a kiss? Is that our Bloodline magic? Why are they going straight into their hideout if they managed to put his eldest brother at death's door? Why is Soyo being made to follow his psycho of a Father there?

"Don't worry, Soyo, I'll make sure no blood gets on you."

"I don't think that's the problem, Papa."

This is hell.

That is not a joke, this is the netherworld. But right now, Soyo means it metaphorically as well, because this— screaming death, crying noises, the sounds of a house crackling in a wildfire as it's cindered, servants and children running desperately for reprieve only to be sliced down by a rabid werewolf that's hunting everyone down— yeah, it's hell.

"Don't worry, they won't die!" his father assures him from somewhere inside the building, how did he know that was the question Soyo was thinking of? "You'll need a lot more than this to kill a demon. I'm just knocking them out so Henri can capture them later."

Soyo sits quietly outside in the gardens, like Hachiko at the train station, just waiting for his owner to come pick him up after he's done working.

He picks a flower. It's not a flower that exists in the mortal realm, this one has teeth.

Soyo puts it in his mouth. Oh it's eating him back! It's still alive after he plucked it? That's so cool!

"What are you up to now?" his dad is there when Soyo finds another flower creature to investigate, a wry smile on his face. Father is covered in soot and blood and dirt, his clothes a little torn, but he chortles at the sight.

"Flower," Soyo says, a mouthful of petals that's trying its best to escape. Father's eyes are filled with relief and satisfaction, and just a little disappointment, presumably because he's done running wild and the high has come down.

"Oh you're a puppy alright," Father sighs fondly, picking him up. "Let's go home."

Soyo's family is a strange one.

All things considered, Soyo enjoys his next life here. Sure his Father was objectively insane and needed to be told that massacres were not an ideal spot for a family outing— but well, they were demons, so that's fine. 

Chapter Text

“You’re the only one I trust with him,” Father says, depositing Soyo on the hospital cot where Van had been blissfully reading a book, still recovering from death’s door. “Don’t let anyone else touch him. Consider your life forfeit if you fail.”

We spent a whole day getting revenge and you just turned all your good character building out the window, you idiot. 

“Soyo,” Father ignores his words, “stay good until I’m gone, okay?”

And then he leaves, door slamming shut. 

Soyo turns to his brother Van, who has the most irritated, scrunched up, displeased look on his face. His hair is lopsided and in a mess. Apparently, he had incredibly long silver hair that had to be lopped off during the surgery, and they haven’t fixed it yet. 

His eyes are filled with disappointment. Soyo must be interrupting his alone time, then. 

The book he’s holding is written in demon language, and Soyo can barely understand it yet. It’s a novel, though, he just somehow knows, and his brother reads it when he’s feeling upset. 

Well, that’s fair. Apparently this was all a teenager’s spat that escalated when he got ganged up on. He must feel guilty, somewhat, to have caused so much trouble for everyone. 

Maybe Soyo’s projecting? Oh well. 

Gotta do something about the way his brother looks so troubled to be stuck with a child to babysit. He’s still a recovering patient, Papa, why’d you leave me here?

Soyo blinks. 

He crawls over and his brother flinches— but carefully, maybe falling upon an arm midway through, Soyo makes it up to his brother’s face, holding onto the shoulder and getting held up by a confused hand. Van has put the book aside.

Van stays silent, not sure what his baby brother was doing. 

And then, eyeing the dog ears, Soyo grabs onto them like handles, before patting him on the head once, twice. 

Soyo hadn’t had the chance to really register this properly yet, but…

…his family’s full of dogs. 

Oh my go– I mean, devil, he’s not fluffy like Papa but he’s so soft. He’s so soft. Soyo dives into the fluff, hugging his brother’s head firmly, squealing in happiness. He wants to die in the softness. Viva dog family. 

Immediately Van grabs the child by the scruff, spins him over, and shoves him at arm’s length, looking incredibly frazzled and discomposed. Huh? What happened while Soyo was losing himself in animal enthusiasm? 

“Your thoughts,” Van finally speaks, and he sounds so exasperated, his eyes are blown wide— ah, they’re so red and pretty— and he’s very desperate. “Are so loud .”

Soyo doesn’t know what that means.

Wait. He can read minds?

With a sigh, Van sets Soyo on his lap, seated in his direction as the child looks anticipatingly up at his very troubled brother. 

Van’s numb and exhausted from everything, trying to focus on recovery, and all he wants today is to read in silence. And yet, Father had to come and bring a little menace. 

Oops, I’m making my brother hate me.

“I don’t,” Van clarifies. 

Right, mind-reading . Soyo turns to the book that Van left on his bedside, and points at it. He doesn’t want to get in his brother’s way. 

Van understands what he means, and he stares, conflicted. 

“You’re quiet now?” 

From his bewildered gaze, he’s rather surprised. Soyo tilts his head aside, not so sure what his brother’s powers entailed to begin with. Can someone actually shut their thoughts up? Or can Van only hear enthusiastic emotions?

“Just stay,” Van says, shifting Soyo around in his lap, getting comfortable. He picks up his book and continues reading, undeterred by the child in his lap that stares, very intently, at the words, trying to make heads or tails of the difficult text. 

Soyo behaves. This warm arm is just as comfy as the hair, anyways.

They stay like that until Father comes home.

Vassago Van is having a no-good, terrible, devi-awful, day. 

He sighs, gently patting Soyo’s head as he sleeps, curled up in his lap, murmuring nearly soundlessly. He had to move the blankets so he could be covered too.

All things considered, Soyo was a very good child. Sivvi was rowdy, Veer even worse. Soyo was an angel compared to it all. 

But…

He closes his eyes for just a second to focus— and the noise that just roared out of his youngest brother, the beast that screamed and cried and wailed like a banshee at twilight— it rose from his figure, clawing at Van’s shoulders, and pleaded for release. 

His eyes snap open, and he backs away, leaning against the pillow with a sigh. 

(That thing’s going to be his sleep paralysis monster. He knows it.) 

Soyo was the quietest externally. But internally, and especially when he slept, there was a tortured soul trapped within, like a curse. 

It was not a beautiful noise at all. Atrocious. Appalling. Vile. Unlovable. He didn't understand how Father could tolerate it and call it cute. 

“You’re being awfully mean to your brother,” Father says, showing up at the doorway. 

“How the actual fuck did you sneak up on me!” He chucks the closest object at him. His Father catches the book easily. “I have super hearing! I know everything happening on this floor!” 

“You think you can hear anything over whatever nightmare your brother is having? Fat chance,” Father says, stepping in and closing the door behind him. “You’re getting too arrogant, Van. This is why I tell you to take information from something other than noise for once. Then you wouldn't be taken down by those chumps so easily.” 

“Chumps? Fuck you, dad. They were a group of adults and I’m a kid!” Van snaps. 

“No kid acknowledges that they are a kid.”

“Okay, I get it, my bad, I’m sorry, I won’t let my guard down again! Now leave me alone!” 

“There you go. Loud and energetic again, there’s my eldest son.”

“...Dad, you’re being so annoying I’m going to puke.”

“Well, I’m just glad you’re fine,” Father says, taking his son’s hand and planting a kiss upon his palm. “You’ve worried everyone.”

Van sighs, looking away. What an embarrassing father this is. 

I wish you would just die, gross old man.

Father freezes. Then, very slowly, he stands up, grabbing Van by the head, earning a rightfully frightened squeak. “Testing your luck, eh, you cheeky brat? Come here I’ll give you a noogie until your brain is turned into mush!” 

“Get out of my hospital room, kissing monster! You’re going to wake the baby!” 

In the end, Soyo does wake up unwillingly, and Father is made to get on his knees as Soyo cries into Van’s chest over his bad dream. 

“I’m supposed to be resting,” Van mutters, spiteful. 

“There, there, you’re such a good big brother,” Father says, patting them both on the head. “So? Did you have a good, long look at your brother today?”

Van scowls, mood immediately plummeting. 

“Yes, I did.”

Father nods. “Then, we’ll talk later.” 

Father takes the child and leaves, finally leaving Van in a blissfully silent room. Van drops back onto his pillow with an exhausted sigh, closing his eyes and wishing for the information to go away. 

The Vassago’s Bloodline Magic, the Scent Trail, allowed them to gather information about an individual with their senses. Most usually, people in their clan focused on sense of smell or taste, but Van specialised on the Trail of sound. 

That was why, if he closed his eyes, he could continue listening to his brother’s breaths, his heartbeat, his nightmare, his thoughts— and slowly, surely, the pieces gathered into a cinematic record of what could only be a memory of a past life. 

Father had identified it immediately, and had him isolated upon birth. 

And Van understood. He didn’t want his other siblings to be exposed to that nauseating whirl of memories and emotions, either. Not until Soyo himself got it under control. 

This was unheard of. 

Hell, humans exist? All Van could see were the most prominent, horrific parts of that memory, though he wasn’t sure how much was inflated as dreams tended to be, and he couldn’t will himself to see more of it. And yet, if they wanted to understand their youngest brother, they had to share the burden. 

They were a family, after all. No matter what.

He sighs. “If I ever get to go to the human world, I’ll fucking eradicate it.”

“Ditto,” his father says, and Van instinctively grabs his IV pole and whirls it over like a mace. It’s caught, of course. “You resort to violence every time you get spooked. That’s dangerous, what if someone gets hurt?” 

“STOP SNEAKING UP ON YOUR SON.”

All things considered, Soyo was a very calm child. 

“Yeah no, he’s too calm!” Van retorts. You died a depressing death, damn it! Why do you only have nightmares? Why don’t you have other mental problems! Make it hard for us, damn it! Why are you a normal child?!

They say, don’t test the devil. Let’s not test the devil. Let’s just be happy. 

He comes home to see Soyo painting with all the expertise of Da Vinci in his new fully-equipped art room. 

And you’re spoiling him, shitty dad! Why is every picture framed so expensively?! Also Soyo, I know you were an adult, but five-year-olds shouldn’t be able to paint so well! How is he doing this with those tiny, stubby, fingers?

Alas, his dad is not here to answer him. The coward ran. 

Soyo, all five years of that child, turns to him with confusion. “I thought you were dead five days ago,” he puts down his tools before toddling over clumsily, tripping on his second step due to his weird foot. 

I was not dead. If I was dead you would be at the cemetery laying incense at my grave.

Van still looks up though, beady red eyes staring right into Van’s, giving him the chills. Do children always stare straight into your eyes like that? Van’s social anxiety is acting up. Why can’t Soyo act like a normal child?!

“...act like a normal child?” Soyo asks. “But… oh, I fell down. So I’m supposed to cry or something?”

Van stares, stunned. 

Can he read my mind? But how?  

It’s much too early for him to have awakened his Bloodline Magic. Hell, does this kid even know how to use mana yet? He was human, so there’s no way…

…shit, he was human! That means they break the barriers of logic in the Netherworld!

“Huh? Big Brother Van, how did you know I was human?” Soyo asks, standing up staggeringly (Van jerks out an arm when Soyo nearly falls,) and dusting himself off. “Oh… it’s that mind-reading thing. I guess there was no point in hiding it, then.”

Be more surprised that your secret got found out, damn it!

But how? Is it sound like his own? No, that’s the trickiest to master, and the hardest to actually hear, since there’s always millions of sounds around. Plus, Soyo couldn’t possibly learn how to listen to hearts when his own heart is in such chaotic disarray. 

So how?

Van turns to his brother to find Soyo staring straight at him, blankly and intently. Bright red eyes of the Vassago family looking into his depths with all the curiosity of a scientist. 

“...Soyo,” he speaks, genuinely horrified. “Could you… not look at me for a while?”

Soyo blinks. “Okay?” He reaches up and closes his eyes, covering it with his hands.

Instantly, the creepy feeling is liberated from his shoulders. 

“...you’re kidding,” Van breathes. “Could it be… eye contact?”

That’s… that’s not bad at all. But it’s rare to be able to utilise sight— hell, it’s unheard of. The Vassagos up the line of history have been continuously trying to discover a way to expand their abilities in that direction and this child just broke that enigma without even trying.

Soyo’s a genius.

A terrifying genius. 

Which means that if he leaves this child in any clumsy, reckless, buffoon, stupid hands as he grows up… he’ll become a demon with a heart of a monster. No, Van will not let it happen. He cannot let it happen.

He cannot let that idiot of a father raise this talented ball of potential! He might just bring him into a warzone and call it a learning experience like what he did for Van!

“Soyo,” Van says, crouching down so he meets the child at eye level. “ I’m going to teach you everything there is to learn about our Bloodline magic.” 

Soyo nods shakily. “Oh… okay? Thank you, Big Brother Van.”

“So whatever you do, don’t listen to dad. And definitely don’t follow him on any outings without going through me first.”

“Ah,” Soyo’s nods, “uh… too late for that…”

Van takes a moment to understand the implications of that. 

(Two minutes later, Van marches ominously toward the Father’s room with a wooden bat. He smashes the prized crockery cabinet before leaving proudly, with zero intentions to disguise the crime he has committed.)

The Vassago family has a lot of children. Not all of them came from Father, most of them are adopted from cousins of cousins because of the nature of their Bloodline Magic. Not everyone can utilise it as well as the ‘pure’ main family line, which also meant that only thus main family line is capable of truly mastering it. 

In truth, the only difference between them was the capability to master all five senses. The ability to specialise and grow stronger depends entirely on the person.

It didn’t really matter, though. Father never encouraged expansion beyond utility, and everyone was allowed to indulge in whatever they liked best. 

Right now, the only ‘purebloods’ in the family are the youngest son Soyo, and the eldest sons, Van, and his twin brother, Veer. 

Speaking of Veer.

“No! Noooo! It can’t be!” 

The loud wailing and sobbing jerks Soyo right awake to find himself on a carpet on the floor of the library— oh, he’s in someone’s arms. Right. He was studying with Van in the library. They probably fell asleep. 

“How could this have happened?!” 

Van awakens with a groan, his arms looping exhaustedly around Soyo, pulling him close with a soft murmur that sounded like ‘ignore him’. 

“My– my dearest big brother. My dearest. My dearest—-” 

Soyo looks up to find unkempt silver hair upon a frazzled, tearful youth. His eyes were filled with fear and disbelief, burning with tears as he looked upon Van and Soyo with such immense despair, Soyo thought of a dog being told it was bathtime. 

“---my dearest big brother’s hair!” he cries, falling to his knees heartbrokenly. He sobs, clenching his chest, “how could this have happened? How could this have… while I was gone…” 

…pardon?

Soyo looks over to see Van is clearly awake, filled with irritation. 

His hair, which the hospital had lopped off, was still a mess. He was supposed to get it fixed after coming back, but apparently, the servants had refused, he didn’t trust his dad, and he was overall too busy with birthright duties to bother with his hair. 

“I thought I had some more time,” he mutters, spitefully. “What are you doing home so early, Veer?” 

“I rushed home after hearing you were hurt, of course, what do you think I am, a monster?” Veer— this was Veer? He’s so… flamboyant. 

Dressed to the nines, a little tired from the long trip. He still wore his gloves and shoes and the servants were outside, rushing to unload the luggage. 

He really did rush home. 

Van sits up, and Soyo remembers that he’s still seated in his brother’s lap. There was drool on the man's clothes, and Soyo tries to wipe it away to no avail. 

“You weren’t worried about me ,” Van says, brushing away his uneven bangs to the back of his head. “You were worried about my hair .”

“Of course I wasn’t worried about you , why would I,” Veer produces scissors and a bottle of soap, “you wouldn’t die if you were killed. Now, let’s fix that rubbish.” 

Van prominently ignores him, lifting Soyo away from his lap, noticing the drool stains and wiping it away with his sleeve. There are creases on Soyo’s face, sleeve creases from where he’d been lying on Van’s arm. 

“This is Veer,” he says. “He’s the kind of creep that collects hair in jars and greets your hair before he greets you. He remembers people not by face, but by hair. He will murder people that don’t don their natural hair colours. He finds hair on the side of the road and puts it in his mouth.” 

Soyo stares, vaguely mortified.

“Be careful. He’s got an unhealthy obsession with hair.”

…yeah, no shit!

But to think you could use the Vassago Bloodline magic that way… he’s the perfect crime scene investigator! Even just a trace of hair left in the room and he’d know everything that happened. It’s even more efficient than Dad’s and Van’s, because those two actually required the perpetrators to be present. 

“...you’re very smart,” Van says, and Soyo balks, abruptly remembering that his brother could hear everything. 

“Are you two just ignoring me?” Veer asks. For some reason, there’s a salon chair and hair wash station prepared, right outside the library in the middle of the corridors and all.

“...do you just have a portable version of these things? How?”

“To save the hair of the world, this much is a given!” 

Van puts Soyo down as the servants systematically take his haori from him, putting on something more suitable for hairdressing work. Soyo looks back, meeting Veer in the eyes. Veer looks down at him, crouching down to scrutinise the child. 

“You used Van’s shampoo, didn't you?” he sneers, and Soyo blinks, wondering why there was so much unbridled hatred in those eyes. Did he do something wrong? Veer has his hand around Soyo’s face, just slightly away from his neck “How dare you?”

(“You’re the only one I trust with him,” Father had said to Van.)

“You dare use Van’s specially concocted shampoo for straight silky hair on your scruffy, bristled, and light hair?” he says, with all the oozing bloodlust of a man ready to tear the head off this impertinent child. And he’s probably done it before. “Do you want to destroy your cuticles? Are you trying to ruin them?!”

Oh wait. That’s not Soyo’s train of thought, that’s the information he’s getting from staring into those dark, fury-filled eyes. 

…am I, perchance, in danger right now?

“Yes! YES you are!” Van yells, raising his voice frightfully, rushing back over. “Soyo! Get away from there right now! Veer, down boy! VEER! NO!” 

That day, Soyo received a grim reminder.

“In conclusion?”

“Big brother Veer is a fucking sociopath,” Soyo says.

“Wow, a voice so clear and honest, I hear no corruption in your heart,” Van says, very dryly. “Keep the ‘fucking’ away from your vocabulary, though.”

Taking off the bandages around Soyo’s neck, he doesn’t even find a scar. He thought he’d get some thin lines, at least, since it was clawed partially through. Maybe that degree of damage was nothing to a demon?

“At least he washed and styled my hair, too,” Soyo says, admiring his new, fancily-styled hair in the mirror. It was shining, and felt so much better than before. He has a future as a hairstylist. 

Van’s hair was fixed too, cut neatly to his shoulders. “That guy’s got weird standards, after all,” he sighs, admiring his new manicure as well. “I told you before that the first thing you get information from, it’s addictive. Veer’s the result of not bothering to restrain any impulses. He also collects fingernails, by the way. He’s obsessed what’s basically minor dead cells.” 

So dead skin, fingernails, hair… that’s a weird obsession. Kinda gross. But we’re demons, so… maybe even horn shavings and wing scales and feathers and stuff are included? Huh, that’s actually a lot. 

“You don’t want to see his collection, but that’s how he makes deals.” 

(…his what collection, brother? Makes deals with what?)

Soyo stares into Van’s eyes for all of a moment. Okay nevermind I don’t want to know. 

“But doesn’t this basically mean that, based on what Trail we follow, we all have…” Soyo honestly doesn’t know a better way to phrase this. “...Weird fetishes?” 

Van violently chokes on his tea.

Of the children that live in the main house now, there should be one more. 

“Sivvi is being loaned to the Far Edge for five years,” Van says, as an explanation. Wait, for five years? Is that legal? Isn’t she ten years old? “She’s delicate, see. We can’t possibly let Dad train her. You’re at the mercy of Papa Wolf until you’re old enough to attend Babyls.” 

So you promised to train me and then in the end you’re still going to throw me to dad for training anyways? Are you a monster? 

“...wait, where?”

He’s attending what .

Van stares at him, not so sure why Soyo was reacting that way. 

Soyo understood the concept of schools, right? Sure, Babyls was a more prestigious school than normal, but all of them went there, and Soyo wouldn’t know how famous Babyls was anyways. 

Oh, right! Soyo abruptly realises. For a very long while, he’d completely forgotten that he’d been isekai-ed into a manga!

Chapter Text

“Is there anything you want for your demonic rites, Soyo? Dad will get you anything you ask for.” 

“You already know things I like,” Soyo sighs as his Father pulls him into a side hug, planting a kiss at his temple. He squeezes his gigantic teddy bear to his chest, frowning at the computer screen. “Why bother asking?” 

“Because I want you to ask for it for once! You’re going to attend school in a few years. You’ll have to learn how to ask for things you want, now.” 

Throughout his new life, Soyo has been given everything: paint tools, a room to hang his paintings, sewing machines, designer tools, games— yeah, he’s spoiled. 

But he never really asks for them, Father got them for him of his own accord. 

The Vassago Family Bloodline Magic, the Scent Trail, allows them to gather ‘information’ on any individual via ‘biometrics’. Quotes are necessary there because the information is selective, and the biometrics part is putting it very vaguely. 

Let’s take Dad for example. 

With a single kiss, he is capable of identifying your current state of mind— usually in the form of a strong emotion, such as hunger or irritation, or even what you’re craving or who you’re thinking about. 

But that’s just a single, chaste kiss to the forehead. 

Let’s say he kisses you full on the lips like a scene right out of a homoerotic fantasy. He is capable of knowing where you’ve been, what you’ve done, and who you’ve talked to in the past twenty-four hours.

In other words, Dad is a sex pest, Soyo concludes. 

“Soyo, I can hear you. Have you been talking to your brother recently? You remind me of exactly how he talks,” Father says, mournfully. “Professionally, we work with National Security and Investigations. By your definition, I’m a police dog. See, we have the ears.”

…police dogs are sex pests?! Soyo steps away, mortified. 

“Come here for a second, Soyo, I want to give you a good smack on the head.” 

Soyo whines, attempting to escape, but he’s snatched up into a lap and then he’s getting drilled in the head by infuriated knuckles. 

Everyone in the family is capable of gathering information via different mediums, or Trails , and the amount and detail of information you get depends on mana consumption. It’s completely impossible to hide things from a Vassago in the Netherworld.

(They knew, eventually, about Soyo's past life... and well, they never attempted to hide their knowledge, because seriously, they bought him toys and tools that had everything to do with his past life's hobbies, without even asking.)

(You can’t keep a secret in this family, but you apparently also don’t pry into secrets.)

(That was nice.)

“Then, Papa, there’s something I want,” he says. 

Father immediately perks up, tail straight and ears raised in very visible interest. “What is it, Soyo? Papa will get it for you, even if I have to run ten laps around the borders of the Netherworld to get it—” 

“I want an air pistol.”

He immediately freezes in some sort of unspeakable horror. 

Soyo’s got his old hobbies back, but that’s the only thing left. He hasn’t held an air pistol since before that incident in his past life that rendered him incapable of holding one ever again, so he missed it, very dearly. 

After a while, Soyo waves his hand before his father’s. His eyes are frozen in shock, that’s a first. “Uhm. Hello?” 

His father thaws. “Soyo…” his voice is soft, almost painfully anxious. His eyes are drooped over with a very uncharacteristically serious concern. “I know you’ve got a lot going on and all… but you need to know that even in the demon world, children don’t casually ask for a gun as a present.”

Oh. Right. 

“Also, guns don’t exist in this world.”

Sorry.

“Hey, Soyo…” Van asks him, in the library, “is it true that humans don’t usually survive an average projectile to the head?”

Soyo chokes on his tea and coughs violently. 

“Most theory says that they are weak and thus they create artificial artillery based on science and gunpowder, but I was under the assumption that they don’t use it against each other.” 

Soyo has no idea how to break the news to him that humans made them to be used against each other, but phrasing it like that is an unfair generalisation, so he doesn’t know what to do. 

“Depends on where you hit… it’s the brain that’s weak, usually,” Soyo says. “If you’re lucky, you can survive, but permanent damage is usually inevitable. Depends on how hard you hit.”

They don’t ever pry directly into what happened, but every once in a while, there are questions like this, borne out of curiosity. Van’s getting stationed to the Border, so he has to brush up on human lethality standards, and he’s just having a hard time suspending his disbelief on how weak humans are. 

“...then, why?” Van asks. 

And Soyo knew what he was asking. 

Why did they aim for your eyes, when it’s the most fragile thing on the board?

“It’s like the demon world,” Soyo says. “If you make someone angry, they will retaliate, of course. That’s obvious. I just got what I deserved.”

It didn’t matter how sturdy or frail a creature was. Cruelty and the desire to harm were things that lay in the blood of every living creature.

“But there was no healing magic in the human world,” Van says, crouching down to find Soyo’s face, cradling it gently. “It makes no sense.”

Every time Soyo closes his eyes, he remembers the sound of his spine, his waist, shattering under a foot and a pair of violent arms. He refuses to remember the rest of it all. The scars were enough, the burns a remembrance, the permanent injuries a final jeer to his misfortune. 

All those marks were gone now, though. All that was left was a little malformed leg.

“I was a kid,” he says.  

I couldn’t remember the pain if I tried. All that haunted his dreams were what came after. The fallout. The everything. Now, albeit a little lopsided, he stands on both feet, and his arms hold enough strength to paint the world with his fingers. 

“Then, why do you not smile?” Van asks. 

Soyo looks away. “I’ve forgotten how to do that, too.” 

He doesn’t need it. He’s enjoying his life here to the fullest, even without it. Van looks at him, and he sighs, deep and disappointed, but resigned. 

“Alright then,” he says. “What do you want for your demonic rites?”

“A plushie.” 

“Again? There’s no space left in your room.”

“I’ll manage.”

The Vassago family’s Bloodline Magic is delicate, difficult to train, and would be dangerous if misused. That’s why most of them are always working as police dogs in some part of the world from a very young age, and rarely do they ever stay in the main house. 

Except Soyo, who, due to the overload of memories in his head leading to an unstable mentality from birth, his father opted to personally train him in his developing years. 

Soyo was quite literally the pampered child of the Vassagos, and honestly, everyone knew that. They just had no idea how to address it, so they just never did. 

“Your leg makes an awful amount of noise,” Azazel Ameri says. 

“Hm? Yeah. Sometimes.”

“Ask your father for a new brace already.”

“He’s planning on giving me one on my next birthday. Don’t tell him I know, he’s trying his best to keep it a secret.”

“...you are keeping a secret that you know a secret? Against a man that’s job is to know secrets?”

“It’s a contest of who knows who knows and who can know who knows who knows.”

“...sounds complicated.”

“You get used to it.”

For the past few years, Soyo has been slotted into playdates with the daughter of the Azazel family. His father worked with her father, so it just worked out. They don’t do anything but study together and maybe talk about their interests— painting and novels respectively— but it’s a solid relationship. 

Apparently, there’s talk about Soyo and Ameri growing up to become professional partners in the future. Dogs need owners to tug on their leashes, after all. 

Soyo sets a hand on the armrest before carefully sitting down, the brace around his right leg creaking as it jostled. He turns his attention to the books on the table, various books on the laws of the demon world that both of them had the familial duty to study. 

So currently, a seven-year old and an eight-year old are reading advanced books on judicial decree. What a universe to live in, what in the hell is all this? This even descriptively details the eternal torture and punishment of criminals. Can I read this? I won’t get nightmares, will I?

“I will be attending Babyls before you,” Ameri says, sounding a little disappointed. “You are capable of skipping a grade. Join with me.”

Ameri’s eyes are also red, but they’re just a shade away from the notable Vassago’s. They’re still beautiful, though, a deep orange burned in, like the fires of the sunset. Soyo sees anxiety in her heart. She’s nervous, pressured, by the expectations of her family. He supposed that was how a normal child would be, born into a family like this. 

“I refuse,” Soyo says. 

Ameri stares, flabbergasted. “Why?!”

“I just have a feeling that something interesting will happen in the year after yours,” Soyo says. “And if I join at the same time as you, you won’t have time to properly rise in the ranks. I will be aspiring to be a menace, so I will join the year after you so you may fully focus on thwarting me from an already-established position.”

“Why are you so matter-of-factly declaring that you will be a menace??” Ameri slams her hands against the table. “Behave, Soyo!” 

“Don’t wanna.” Soyo declares, face steeled.

“Change your expression!” 

“I was born with this face.”

Ameri glares. “If you behave, I will grant you…” she picks up an article of clothing. “My limited edition Kuromu hoodie.”

“No thank you. Kuromu’s hair isn’t natural, so any of her merchandise of her is set on fire at our doorway, along with the person holding it.” 

Ameri falls silent. “Wait, what?”

“Veer’s got an unhealthy obsession with hair,” that’s Van’s twin brother, “he walks around with a bat all day just in case he finds someone with dyed hair in the streets. He will murder me if I dare show any interest in Kuromu at any moment of the day. Every day is a life or death battle in front of the TV with him in the house.”

Ameri stares, baffled. “He… is a police dog… right? Is the Netherworld security okay?”

“No.”

“Ah– alright, forget the Kuromu hoodie,” Ameri says, “you like cute and comfortable things, right? I’ll give you my big cat plushie!” 

“That thing isn’t cute. It’s a monster. And it’s got too many ribbons and frills on it. And it’s made of synthetic fur. And it’s neon orange.” 

“How many complaints do you have, you brat?!

“It’s a disgrace to everything fluffy in the world.” 

“Why are you so brutal to it?!” 

They argue loudly, noisily, and when the servants see them, they smile contentedly. Nightfall finds the children curled up upon each other on the couch, and Azazel Henri promptly explodes.

“Saga, your son better not lay hands on my daughter!” 

“Oh come on Henri, he’s not me.”

“THAT IS NOT ASSURING.” 

Ameri awakens, blinking confusedly. She clings to Soyo, who was also rousing, in her arms, hugging him tightly as one would a plushie. “Why would Soyo ‘lay hands’ on me? I thought Dad and Mister Saga were dating, so we would be stepsiblings, won’t we?”

There’s a moment of horrified silence. 

“Ameri,” a very affronted, strained question from a man that’s trying not to brutally eviscerate the laughing werewolf beside him. “Why do you think I’m dating that creature?”

“...because you kissed?” Ameri asks, head tilted aside. Only lovers did that, right? Everyone laughed it off, so that’s what Ameri figured. It was a very complicated, difficult love triangle of intense dramedy of forbidden love. She’s very supportive of them.  

Soyo stares between them. As expected of the demons whose Bloodline Magic centres upon overthinking and believing their overthinking tirades— Ameri is very much the queen of misunderstandings. 

“...go back to sleep, Ameri. Your dad is going to commit murder right now.” 

Father has already started running, but knowing the Azazel House, he will in fact be caught. Undeterred, Soyo curls back into Ameri and falls asleep. 

“I WILL RUN FASTER THAN YOU.”

“You’re using your Bloodline Magic for this?! No fair!” 

“Is it fine to let him eat those?” 

“It’s fine! Our Vassago stomachs are pretty strong.” 

“Yeah, but they’re poisonous.”

“Say that earlier!” 

Soyo had found something that looked like a hydrangea from afar, but actually it was a bunch of blinking eyeballs stuck on a stem. They were all incredibly unnerving and creepy and nightmare-inducing, so he did the obvious thing and ate it. 

This thing is a disgrace. It had such pretty eyes, too, what on earth is this? He wants a hundred of them in his room. It’s so stupid. 

“Soyo, no!” 

They were in the Naberius family mansion. Father makes a habit of visiting them every few months, and well, it was free dinner, so why not. This would be Soyo’s first time visiting them, since it was usually Van or Veer that came here. 

When asked what their connection was, Father only chuckled nervously. He’s never been the bashful sort, so Soyo found that weird. But their connection made sense– a family of dog demons, and a family of people whose bloodline tames dogs. 

…oh, is this your ex’s house, Papa?

“It isn’t! We were former partners in the professional sense!” 

Sir Kalego, the second son of the family, watches from afar, frowning. 

“Soyo, be a good boy! Spit that out!” Father takes him by the face, and Soyo growls, mouth clamped shut in refusal. “Don’t eat it! You’re going to upset your tummy!” 

Eventually, Father cranks his mouth open and manages to retrieve the now scrunkled plant from his jaws, leaving the child pouting and upset as it clung onto his arm. 

“Oh, you’re going to cry?” Father sighs, patting him on the head. “Well, too bad. You still can’t eat it.”

“Discipline your puppy,” the head of the Naberius family sighs. 

“How about you don’t put poisonous plants on your veranda, dog tamer?!” 

“Don’t eat other peoples’ plants!” 

“You know we dogs can’t help it!”

“It’s called discipline, and this is exactly why your family is full of strays and ne’er-do-wells, Saga!” 

Soyo crawls out of his father’s arms to find Sir Kalego, tugging at the edge of his clothes to get his attention. He was still ten years old, so of course, he was very small. 

It just won’t let go of his cape, for some reason. Obnoxious, compulsive and self-absorbed. All three things Naberius Kalego hates at once. This entire family. 

“Do not touch me,” Kalego says immediately. 

Soyo continues to stare at him until Kalego glares at him in hopes of chasing him away. His eyes are strained, clearly tired, and sagged unhealthily with bags. They’re very frowny 

He’s already a teacher at Babyls. He collects cacti. He doesn’t have a familiar, but he does have a very big, dangerous Bloodline Magic, the Cerberion. He even has a catchphrase, like the edgelord he is. 

“Kalego-kun,” Father speaks up, “I know you’re trying to intimidate him, but Soyo’s got an eye obsession, so the more you stare at him, the more he grows interested in you.”

“What?!” Kalego balks, looking away immediately, covering his eyes. “I thought vision Trails were impossible to follow!” 

“It usually is, but my Soyo’s a genius, you see.”

“Damn you, doting father!” 

“You know how we Vassagos are known for our keen tongues and very attentive eyes?” Father explains. “That’s because most of us get information via taste. But Soyo gets information via his sight, so in exchange, he’s got a very curious mouth.”

“That doesn’t make sense!”  

Soyo feels himself picked up, and he’s in the arms of a slightly taller Naberius— Soyo finds the eyes looking into his, and he realizes this is the first son, Narnia. 

“He really does look straight into your eyes,” Narnia says. “Here, eat this.” 

He’s holding up a stick of jerky, and Soyo bites on it, letting himself be fed. Well, snacks are always good. He doesn’t want to think of what meat this is. 

“Don’t feed it like you’ve picked up a stray!” Kalego protests. Then, arms extended, “give it, it’s eating your hair along with it. I don’t think it has taste buds.” 

“I just got this child today, Kalego. Chill. Why do you want it?”

“Cerberion is hungry.” 

“...Kalego, please do not feed your Bloodline Magic a daily supply of young demons. That is a crime.”

“Well, I’m glad you two look like you’re having fun,” Father says, “ your father just sneaked away at some point. You guys play with Soyo, I’ll go track him down.”

“Wait, you’re just leaving your kid with us?!”

“You sure like to eat weird things. Would you eat a cactus, Soyo-kun?” Narnia asks, and Soyo nods. They’re prickly, but really hydrating. “Let’s go look for one in Kalego’s room.”

“Don’t you dare!” 

Despite being brought up studiously, Soyo indulges in hobbies like games and art, as any normal child would. He spent his past life being a very productive shut-in, after all. Now that he’s got limb mobility and eyesight back (which he’d partially lost in his past life,) he indulges with twice the fervor. 

He has a room full of paintings in the house, which Father frames up or puts on displays every time. He also makes costumes of old animes he’s watched in his other life, and since they’ve gone missing every once in a while, he can only guess that someone’s been stealing them to sell on the demonic internet. 

(He’s started taking commissions online too, mainly for Akudols.) 

The point I’m trying to make is, this guy’s pretty damn skillfull in all sorts of useless things, and he leaves people wondering why he’s a police dog instead. 

“Oh yikes,” Father steps into his room, ignoring the mountain of teddies that fall upon the door opening. “Soyo, an urgent request came in, and it’s supposed to be Veer’s, but I need you to do it instead. Think you’re old enough to go on a solo errand?”

Dad. We deal with crime investigations. Why are you talking to me like you want me to buy soy sauce from the store?

“This is bad!” the backstage worker yells, frantic. “We still don’t know who muddied the dress, ruined the makeup tools, and sabotaged your script, but we need to get it all done because you’re going on air in ten minutes!” 

“I-” Kuromu’s near tears, scrunching up the script in her hands. “I can do this! I can memorise the new script in ten minutes! But— but…” 

This is a disaster. She’d finally gotten a good gig from an afamed director, and yet. And yet here she was, in the process of embarrassing herself because of typical Akudol-dom rivalry spats. She’d let her guard down. 

And beside her, staring from the corner of the room, is Soyo. 

She whirls around, screaming. “How long have you been there?!” Then, she realises she doesn’t have her wig on. She screams again. 

The boy was her age— so maybe twelve, maybe eleven. There was a dark mantle draped over his shoulder, pulled over his head in earlike protrusions. For some reason, Kuromu couldn’t quite grasp his features beyond the feathery dark hair, and gleaming red eyes that stared through her soul. 

He handed a business card and a piece of paper to Manager Mar. Kuromu mildly ponders putting her wig back on, but she dismisses it. There’s no point anymore.

For some reason, this boy wore a loose leather collar that fit around his neck. She doesn’t recognize the symbol on the buckle, but later, Manager Mar will tell her it’s the mark of the Vassago family. 

“Oh! You’re the agent sent by the Netherworld Security. Thanks for coming…” Soyo nods, then Manager Mar reads the paper and yelps. “I knew it, it was that other agency again! I’m gonna sue! I’m gonna sue them until they’re begging for death!” 

And she marches out, burning with all the fury of her namesake. 

“Wait, just like that?” Kuromu says, in disbelief. “That was surprisingly easy… uh, what are you doing? My makeup tools have been destroyed, and I’m not popular enough yet to have a team of artists, so…” 

Soyo had gently sat her down on the makeup table. Then he took out a very modest-looking box. Completely wordlessly, he brushes her hair aside, looking in the mirror as a professional would to ascertain what he had to work with. 

“Eh? You’re going to do it? I… I appreciate it, but…” 

He opens it to reveal a majestic array of shiny, expensive cosmetics.

Kuromu screams. “That’s— that can’t be! The super top high class luxury set from the super top high class luxury makeup brand, Devinel!” 

“Here,” Soyo hands her the script as she turns to him, stunned. “Good luck memorising. I will try my best to not interrupt you while you read.”

Oh Devil below, he’s a gentleman. 

“Wha– but, what about my dress?” Kuromu says, as Soyo begins working immediately, hands moving so systematically across her face, curling in the eyeliner in one try. “I don’t have time to get it fixed, so…” 

“Is this alright?” Soyo holds up the mirror. 

“You’re already done?!” she whirls back to the handheld mirror. 

Kuromu admires herself in the mirror for a moment, very impressed. She barely catches sight of Soyo picking up the shredded dress, inspecting it with care. Kuromu turns back to her script for a moment, making it through half of it when she looks up to find a completely new dress hanging where the scrap once lay, woven together with the old fabric and decorated with balls of white fluff as once would a winter coat. 

Soyo sighs, wiping off the head on his forehead. He took off his coat, rolled up his sleeves, and there was a needle and some rolls of thread in his hands. 

“Not the best, but it’s okay I guess.”

“What do you mean IT’S OKAY?!” Kuromu squawks. That’s a— that’s better than the dress they started out with! “How did you— when even— magic?!” 

“Sorry if it doesn’t fit well, I made a rough guess.” 

“Of what?!”

“Ah, you’ll have to change,” Soyo bows, “I will be taking my leave, then. I wish you all the luck in your live show today.”

“Wait, you’re just going to go after casting miracles upon my dressing room?!”

The door clicks shut. 

Kuromu has no idea what on earth just happened, but she needs to show up in five minutes, so she doesn’t have any time to think about it. 

(Her fame inflated after that incident. She dubs him the Legendary Makeup Artist of Miracles and builds him an altar of worship in her house.)

Chapter Text

There’s no limit on altering your uniforms. Demons are just rarely motivated enough to bother with it, but the ones that do take it to the extreme. 

“So… can I just forgo the blazer entirely?” 

“Why do you hate it so much?”

“It’s not fluffy.”

“Neither is our clan training uniform.”

“But it’s better.”

The sleeveless turtleneck is a classified look that’s comfortable and easy to move around in. The school blazer? It’s just an excuse to be additionally stuffy. 

He lets the red collar, the symbol of the Vassagos, hang around his neck. 

And then he pulls on a mantle, black lined with red, with an ear-pointed hood hanging high above his head, framing his face. It pulls over his front like a small cape. 

“You don’t need that,” Van sighs. It’s got stealth and recognition warding imbued upon it, to keep the Vassago children undercover on missions yet recognizable to the force as an agent. They were underage at the crime scene, after all. 

But now, for school, he didn’t need it. 

“I won’t wear it up often, it’s just to rest on my wings.”

“Look, it clashes terribly with the bright blue uni– wait, why are your uniform pants black and red?”

“It’s the Student Council Uniform. Ameri wants me there.”

“Then that’s all the more reason to wear it as assigned!” 

“No.” 

Van let out a despaired groan. 

Honestly there was no genuine reason for the Vassago to go to school. Like the Azazels, they receive education about much deeper things from a much younger age. School was merely a way to build social connections, practice those theories in leadership, and learn how to efficiently engage in a semblance of a society in preparation for their adulthood as prominent members of the law. 

“Don’t cause too much trouble,” Van reminds him. 

Soyo pulled his hood over his head, picked up his bag, and left the house. 

Van groans. “He didn’t say yes.”

AMERI:

Don’t cause any trouble. 

SOYO :

I won’t (＃`Д´)
who do you think I am

AMERI:

You are a menace!
Please come to the student
council room for the Babyls
rulebook as well.

SOYO:

Is that how you ask for
a favour? (눈_눈)

AMERI:

P.l.e.a.s.e.

SOYO:

That’s a threat, isn’t it… (´꒳`)♡

His belt hung over with straps and chains that connected to a communicator (which was confiscated, so it’s empty at the moment,) a tonfa as was his assigned weapon, and a pair of handcuffs. He punctuated it with a little keychain of a wolf. 

That, along with the blue sheep keychain on his bag, made for a very contrasting ensemble to greet the first day of school with. 

This weaponry possession would be unheard of in the human world. But in Babyls, it’s perfectly okay, especially if you cite ‘family reasons’ on the paper. No one would even bat an eye.

Soyo kinda liked this school now. Maybe he’ll try carrying a stuffed toy all day. 

He makes his way to school on his wings. 

It was really unnerving, to be able to literally fly. Sometimes, Soyo had no idea what to do with his arms and legs while airborne, and he still doesn’t, sometimes. For now, though, it was just a convenient way of not needing to walk. His leg made that difficult sometimes.

A figure floating upon a cloud pillow drifts by, and Soyo’s entire being whirls to full attention, spinning violently toward it, earning startled looks from the rest of the crowd around him. 

Oh no. That thing looks like heaven. We’re in hell. 

He catches up to it and jumps right in, earning a terrified shriek from the boy that was sleeping on it. 

“Wha– what?! WHO? Why even– who are you?!” Agares yelps, mortified at the new weight to the side of his pillow, clinging on even as he rises, so now he just had a dangling demon just burying his face into 

He lifts his eyes mask, squinting at the sunlight. 

Soyo looks up, finding unimaginably beautiful eyes, amber against the sunlight, gentle against his soft features. 

“Uh… can you get off?” Agares Picero says, glaring at the way Soyo was clutching tightly against the cotton, “you’re weighing my pillow down.” 

“Can I have your eyes?” Soyo asks. 

“Huh?”

“Oh, sorry, that’s not what I meant to say,” Soyo says, slip of the tongue . “I mean, can I sleep here? It is soft and fluffy and I like soft and fluffy things.” 

Honestly, what is this thing? A magical tool? A flying carpet, cotton cloud version?

Agares sends him the most disgruntled face in the universe. “Absolutely not.” 

“What a waste of your pretty face,” Soyo is entirely unfettered as Agares tries to manually shove him off. Soyo gently cradles Agares’ face. “Dark circles. Your eyes are tired— it’s not because of lack of sleep, this is from oversleeping.” 

“Why are you giving me a diagnosis?! Get off my cloud!” 

“Can I have your eyes?”

“Why are you asking that again?! NO! LET GO!” 

Azazel Ameri stares at the destruction before her. Rock pillars and spikes protruded from the ground, gorging into the walls, the towers, and destroying a great portion of the front gate along with the walkway. 

“President!” a member of the student council, Kimaris Quichelight, salutes upon rushing over. “We’ve lost sight of the perpetrators, but judging by the work, we’re fairly sure it’s the work of the Agares Bloodline Magic…”

Ameri hums, crossing her arms. “Strange. The Agares are known to be rather lackadaisical. I wonder what spurred them to cause such mischief.” 

“Should we send a squad to locate him? He should be in the freshman auditorium.”

“No,” Ameri says. “Something’s off about the situation.” 

Surrounding them, the students of Babyls, particularly the seniors, were going completely rabid over the aspect of a completely insane first-year that would cause this level of destruction on day one. 

Meanwhile, hanging upon one of the many spikes (he’d gotten his hood caught on it and Agares left him stranded there as retribution) was Soyo, in awe of the damage. Carefully, he spread his wings and got himself out of there, landing on the roof. 

Oh dear, look at this mess. 

Soyo casually walks away from the scene, wondering where the auditorium for the induction ceremony was. 

“What a shame,” he sighs, “those eyes were really pretty…” 

“It’s RO-NOOO-ve!” 

The flamboyant, shining figure stands obnoxiously in the middle of the road, stopping Soyo in his tracks, posing beamingly in all his dark-skinned and gorgeous-haired glory. 

Soyo stares, finding hazel— no, dull gold, perhaps? His eyes were a shining shade of yellow, and they gleamed, with cheer and charisma and confidence. 

Ronove’s been standing awkwardly in that pose for the past two minutes, waiting for a response, but Soyo’s a little too absorbed to remember to care. 

Ronove straightens, composing himself. And then, seemingly redo-ing his introduction, he poses dramatically again. “It’s RO-NO-VE! Your man, RONOVE!” he declares. 

Soyo continues to stare blankly, and Ronove decides a fourth reintroduction is in order. 

“It’s ROhhh-NOOO-ve!” 

Soyo relents and nods in greeting. “It is nice to meet you, Ronove-senpai,” he says. He knows very well that this guy will literally die without attention.  

“YES! That is the name of the great Ronove!” Ronove replied enthusiastically, ecstatic to finally have a reply. “What is your wonderful name, little first-year?!”

“It’s Soyo–” 

“Soy-o Sauce! My darling underclassman!” Ronove shouts, interrupting, “remember the name of the great Ronove!” he poses again. “And also remember the right path to the esteemed grand auditorium, it is there, not here! May Ronove show the way!” 

Oh, he already knew this from the manga, but this guy is a pain in the ass.

“Yes please,” he says. “I’m lost. Please bring me to the auditorium.”

“YES! This Ronove will pave the way! No— Ronove is the way! Let us depart!” he declares, throwing boxes of glitter and flamboyance into the world. 

Soyo stands, frozen in horror as Ronove’s magnificence plunges the world into a rainbow aurora filter. 

“Come, Soyo Saucé! Let Ronove bring happiness and beauty to this world!” Ronove declares, dramatically gesturing the way before him. 

Soyo’s eyes blow wide, “Wait,” he says quickly, face pale, a hand hastily covering his mouth and nose, but a sneeze slips through, his eyes watering. “I’m allergic… to glitter.”

Ronove stills, mortified. 

Soyo sniffles, stepping back a little as a cough chokes it way out of him. 

Then, “uh… Ronove apologises. Ronove did not know,” he says. With a snap of his fingers the hallways are back to normal. There’s a couch, a cup of tea and a blanket around Soyo’s shoulders when he’s pushed to sit down. And then Ronove takes out another plethora of decorations. “Give Ronove a second to redo mon esthétique.”

“Student Council President! It’s Ronove again!” 

Zagan Johnny Western, member of the Student Council and incredibly exhausted already, reports to Ameri. 

“What did he do this time?” Ameri raises a brow. 

“Well… he remodelled the hallways,” Western says. “It’s… hard to explain.”

When they arrived there, the sight was genuinely baffling. 

Somehow, Ronove had managed to turn the normal brick walls into sheer marble, glistening white and polished with all the intricacies of a Roman Cathedral. Then, starkly contrasting that, the flooring was carpeted with the poofiest mat in existence, white clouds of soft flooring to lay on, sleep on, and walk on. The candleholders were statues of Ronove cupids, and the ground was lined with Ronove-themed porcelain vases, and Ronove plush toys, leading the way with huge, shining neon lights that directed them toward the auditorium.

This theming continued with the gentle golden shawls and hammocks hung around, and somehow, even the background music in this section of the building was a holy choir. 

Ameri had no idea where to even begin .

“...we must investigate immediately. Bring Ronove in for a medical examination. This is very serious.” 

No one asks why Soyo’s hugging a chibi Ronove plushie in his arms as they enter the auditorium. It’s not against school rules, after all, and well, everyone that passed by that area took a nap in it, so.

He follows the delicious smell and meanders around, until he finds Suzuki Iruma, fourteen years old, scared shitless in the midst of demons that are all at least twice his size. He’s started chanting some sort of mantra. 

Blue, he’s very blue. 

From head to toe, he was blue, especially because of the assigned uniform. Soyo finds palpitating anxiety in his eyes, a meek child who has never been given a choice, and the potential of such a creature in adapting to every sort of situation, with resigned horror of the unknown running through all his senses at all times. 

“Eek! Eek! I’m sorry. Please don’t eat me!” 

Iruma turns away, shrinking back a little, and Soyo realizes he’s been staring at him from half an inch away this whole time. So he straightens, gaining a polite distance. 

He’s going to eat me! I’m going to die! Is literally the only thing filling up his head, consuming his frazzled eyes. Oh, so Iruma is the type to stare bears in the face and stay still when he’s afraid. He’ll die in the wild. I’m not going to stand out! I’m air! I’m the air of the wind! I will only taste like nothing and that’s not appetising! At all! Though it can be filling when you’re really hungry. I only had a breath of fresh air for dinner last night. It’s not nutritious but it also means I’m not nutritious! Don’t eat me!

“I won’t eat you,” Soyo says. Seriously, is the main character of this story okay? 

Iruma looks back hesitantly, teary-eyed. “...Really?”

Soyo looks away when he shines with precious energy, his eyes can't handle that kind of continuous wattage this early in the morning, he’s had enough with Ronove. 

Standing like this, Iruma’s just a couple inches shorter than him. Makes sense, he’s probably a slightly below-average heighted human, and Soyo’s a bit short for his own lineage. 

He leans in, trying to take a better whiff of that perfume. The inevitable smell of really tasty meat still hung beneath it, but it was liberally covered with a dull, environmental fragrance, which were then suppressed by chemicals made to erase odour. 

It was a very complicated smell. Soyo wasn’t fond of it. 

“U- UHm…?” Iruma’s trembling, sitting shock still, “can I. Can I help you. Sir?”

There were also other people staring, looking fairly amused as Soyo leans in way through Iruma’s personal space— which Iruma is very bothered by. Soyo hums. Too bad, because personal space is not a concept in the Vassago household.

“You smell weird,” Soyo says. 

Iruma jumps. “Oh! Oh, I. I guess I do!” he looks away, terrified at this point. “I wonder why.” He’s very clearly counting down the seconds to his inevitable demise. Please don’t find out I’m human please don’t find out I’m human please don’t find out—

Soyo rests his chin on Iruma’s shoulder, trying to get a better look. He can smell a hint of demon blood. He might want to ask the principal later if this perfume was ethically produced, but he’s also not sure if he wants to know the ingredients list. 

Soyo sighs. 

“Too bad. My Father forbade me from biting people,” he mulls. He doesn’t see how Iruma jerks up, horrified, his soul escaping him. “I really wanna know how you’d taste.”

Humans were a delicacy down here, so really, as a former human, this sort of thing really piqued his interest. 

Iruma is petrified for the rest of the entrance ceremony, and Soyo has no idea why. His mind was so filled with anxiety that Soyo looked away. Soyo then proceeded to untie the fancy ribbon around plushie Ronove’s neck.

“So you’re the principal’s grandson?” Soyo asks, when said Principal, member of the 3 great, Lord Sullivan, starts swooning about his oh-so-adorable pampered boy in his principal’s address, completely with a huge poster of their first picture together and all. 

“Ah– yes,” Iruma looked like he wanted to shrivel up and crawl into a hole and die. 

“Seems tough,” Soyo says, tying the ribbon around Iruma’s head while the boy wails at his grandfather’s embarrassing antics. 

“The freshman representative will now make his speech— ah wait, actually, Iruma will take his place, apparently.”

Iruma looks very ready to spit blood and die. Resigned to his fate and ready to walk on hot coals against his will, Iruma stands up, sends a very pitiable look toward Soyo, and then he despairingly trudges to his death. 

Oh crap , Soyo realises. 

Soyo stares at the huge ribbon bow on Iruma’s head, and so does every other eye in the auditorium, including the baffled teachers. It shines in the light. It’s a Ronove product, after all. And Iruma’s going to go under the spotlight right now, it’s going to sparkle.  

Soyo missed his chance to take it off. 

Iruma does not notice it.

“...is the Honour Student’s hair tied with a large, shining ribbon?” Ameri asks, exasperated. “And is that hair ornament a Devil Sheep keychain?”

At the courtyard, Asmodeus Alice has picked a fight with Iruma and an unwilling duel is taking place. 

Kimaris Quichelight and Zagan Johnny Western stare at the scene from the fourth floor, and their answers are very unfortunately, very spiritlessly, “...yes, President. Indeed it is.”

Ameri knew that the first day of school would be disastrous, but she had no idea where to even begin. And she has a feeling she’s seen that keychain somewhere before…

Senior demons have been hunting freshmen to threaten them into Battler Divisions (which was still a few days too early, so they were promptly discarded,) then some moron picked a fight with a teacher, and there’s been all the vandalising crimes happening since daytime. Who even is behind those?

Iruma is the most prominent offender, but he’s still just one offender. 

“Where’s Vassago-sensei?” Ameri asks. “We could really use some of his deduction skills now.”

“He’s currently…” they hesitated. “Well… he hasn’t shown up, today.”

And that certainly was a trend. He’s not someone that really likes interacting with demons, especially a day with such a flood of new students. 

“I’ve had enough! I’ll call my own dog!” Ameri loses her temper, whipping out her phone. “Soyo! Get over here!” 

Meanwhile, Soyo was watching the wonderful dramatic battle of Asmodeus versus Iruma, with his hood up and still hugging the Ronove plush. The afamed demon of the Asmodeus house churned fire, spiralling dangerously, burning fiercely— and Iruma kept wailing, running for his life.

Well yeah, that’s kinda what happens when you try to upstage a prideful demon, even unwillingly. Poor Iruma.  

“Soyo, get over here!” Ameri calls his phone. “We’ve got a couple incidents happening, we need as many hands as we can get. It’s your first day, but we need you to act as a member from today onwards.” 

Advance recruiting is illegal in accordance with the rules of the Battler system. Ameri has just broken her own rules without even batting an eye. As expected of a demon. 

“Sorry, Ameri, I can’t,” he says, staring as Iruma rolls narrowly to safety from a flaming orb of death. 

“What was that sound— you’re down there, aren’t you… Stop watching and stop them! Students are not allowed to initiate duels on the first day of school without teacher supervision.” 

So they can with supervision? “I can’t,” Soyo says, entirely seriously. “Iruma’s dodging skills defy logic. It’s too exciting. I want to see how it ends.”

“Do your job, member of Netherland security!”

“I’m actually very impressed that Iruma’s evasion stat extends to his clothing, even if it’s such an obnoxious ribbon it’s basically a big target,” Soyo adds. “I really want to see if Asmodeus can at least shoot my keychain out of Iruma’s hair,” 

“SO YOU’RE THE CULPRIT?!” 

The scene of Iruma German Suplex-ing Asmodeus with a ribbon on his head made the school newspapers. 

Iruma was crying, so Soyo had to go to the principal’s office to give a formal apology. 

“Don’t worry! He actually has the ribbon and the keychain framed by his bedside, since you said he could keep it.”

“Because it looked expensive!” 

Iruma’s such a good boy, what the hell.

Chapter Text

Ameri put a bell on him. 

Ameri called him to report to the Student Council room, first thing in the morning, just to put a bell on him. Soyo’s honestly very offended.

“Stop causing trouble,” Ameri warns him, latching the bell to his collar. She pets him on the head, rubbing around the ears. “Behave yourself, understand?” 

“I don’t look for trouble,” he says. Ameri takes away her hand and Soyo catches it, putting it back. You don’t wake him up at this ungodly hour and then only pet the dog for three seconds, that’s not how it works. “Trouble comes to me.”

“That’s a lie,” Ameri says, relenting and using both hands, squeezing the exhaustion out of his face, frowning when Soyo leans in, using her hands as a pillow. “Keep me updated on things that happen. I might send you on an errand.” 

“You’re a slave driver.”

“You’re off-duty in the Netherland Security for your duration of education. That means you’re free, and if you’re free, use it to be productive.”

Soyo whines. 

“And, as a member of the Student Council, you’ll be moving into our clubroom from tomorrow. I’ve already informed your house’s servants, so they’ll bring your luggage tomorrow,” she says. “Alright, you can go now. Answer your phone when called.”

“Okay…” Soyo yawns. “Wait, what?”

“You’re only allowed to go home on the weekends. Don’t underestimate the workload of the Student Council.”

“...Huh?”

Soyo finds himself in the same freshman group as Iruma and his new underli— friend , Asmodeus. Great, this means disaster will happen. He staggers his way around, looking at the map and trying to figure out where he had to go. 

Anyways, familiar-summoning rituals.

A familiar, huh… the Vassago house were technically beasts in their own right, so their familiars are a bit of a mixed bag. Soyo didn’t really know what to expect.

“Silence.”

Ah, there’s Kalego-sensei. 

The second son of the Naberius house is clearly in a bad mood, his eyes landing on Soyo first, squaring him with a stern glare. Behave or die , the threat was clear, even without Soyo’s ability to read minds via eye contact. 

“I’m Naberius Kalego, a teacher. I will be supervising this session. Please be aware that any tomfoolery and falsification will be handled and removed from premises. Violently. ” 

Then Kalego turns his displeasure toward Iruma, the troublemaker of the season. Iruma’s scared stiff, but Kalego moves on to finally explain the summoning procedures. 

“Soyo, you do it first,” Kalego orders, presumably because he’s the only one with an idea of how to do it. “The rest of you, follow his example.”

Kalego’s eyes are stern, filled with a mix of spite for Iruma and an eagerness to get things done in a way that required him to do the least amount of necessary work. But it was also mildly curious, glaring at Soyo in hopes of predicting just what he would summon. 

(It better not be something insane like Sivvi’s.)

...yeah, Soyo doesn’t want something like Sivvi’s, either. That biblically-accurate angel still gave him nightmares sometimes. The eyes were pretty, though. 

Soyo hums, stepping up obediently as Kalego hands him a piece of parchment with a summoning seal drawn on it. 

Taking a breath to compose himself, Soyo bit his thumb, and drew upon the seal a circle of blood. Then he raised it toward the candle, watching it catch fire, the plume gathering to form the familiar that would be his contracted servant for the next year. 

Soyo stares, a little excited himself. What would it be, something insane like a dragon? A minotaur? No, he’s a Vassago wolf, so maybe another doglike creature? A fenrir would be so cool. 

What poofed into existence and dropped into his hands was a single white mound of cotton. With a face on it. And some little stout legs–

–it’s a sheep. A miniature, hand-sized sheep, which was snoring in his hand. 

Shit, it’s cute . 

Soyo’s internal systems run immediately into overdrive, exploding through into the depths of the netherworld’s endless crust as he took in the object in his hands, the degree of softness, the way its little legs squirmed as it found a more comfortable position in his palm, the soft murmurs as it sleep-talked, the little growling breaths— 

“Don’t eat it,” Kalego warns, looking appalled as well. 

—and Soyo is drooling. Soyo’s had the tendency to destroy plush toys even if he liked them, but still . This was so cute. It was so cute. It was so cute . 

He held it up into the light, afraid to touch it lest he destroy its fragile beauty. 

“I’ll say it again, don’t eat it,” Kalego says. “I know you’re a wolf, but your familiar is your familiar , got it? You eat it and you’ll get a failing grade and you don’t get retries.”

“...but.” Just. Just a little taste?

“That’s an Aries pixie. There’s an infinite amount of them, so if you kill one, you’ll get plagued by their curse for all of eternity,” Kalego warns. “Don’t eat it.”

…if I eat it… I’ll be consistently visited by more of them for all of eternity?!

“I don’t even need to read your mind to know what you thought!” Kalego snaps, grabbing him in the head, threatening to crush his skull. “I will put the muzzle on you, brat! Now go sit down in the corner!” 

Soyo stays by Kalego’s side as the rest of the summoning rituals go on. There’s no reason for it, he just didn’t feel like socialising, and Kalego prefers if he stays in sight, too. 

One strange trend Soyo finds is that every canine familiar comes up to Kalego to greet him, like a nod to the real canine lord of the school for permission to linger in its territory. 

“Cerberion demands that much respect,” Kalego explains. “That goes without saying.”

Maybe that’s why the Vassagos traditionally work with the Naberius. They’re just heeding to the superior dog, or something. 

A very fluffy two-tailed puppy toddles up to him, and Soyo scoops it up before Kalego can even greet it. 

“Do not!” Kalego warns a bit too late. “Andro M. Jazz! Retrieve your familiar!” 

The student in question was already hurrying up, flustered. “So sorry, teach! It just really wanted to go up to you for some reason… uh. Is it a dog thing?” Jazz wonders, looking at Soyo as he nuzzles and swoons soundlessly, rubbing his face into poofy fur as the familiar itself just takes it. 

“Soyo, release it,” Kalego says. 

Soyo begrudgingly hands it back to Jazz.

The sheep on Soyo’s shoulder has multiplied, two around his arms and another poofing into existence around his head. Apparently, they duplicate when Soyo’s emotions fluctuate, whether positively or negatively.

Jazz’s eyes are red, too. Dark rubies, like a snake’s, and when he smiles, there’s a bit more conniving than there is sincerity. He’s being genuine now, though, just very curious about the new student that seems to be able to personally interact with the most visually intimidating teacher thus far. Also, he’s just stolen Soyo’s wallet. 

That was fair. 

With a laugh, Jazz cradles his familiar similarly. “It’s fine, it’s fine! It’s super cute, right? I’m almost appalled it came from me,” he says. “So? What’s with ya, sitting here with the scary teach? Don’t know how to make friends or something?”

Soyo isn’t sure when, but Jazz has found his hand, and in perfect thieving fashion, he’s stolen it, pulling Soyo to his feet. 

“Come on!” Jazz grins, tucking his familiar under his blazer. “We’re tossin’ bets over there, guessing who’ll have the craziest familiar of the day.” 

Soyo glances up at Kalego to see him casting him a go on look, nudging him away. Soyo’s first step staggers dangerously due to the sudden need to find balance, but Jazz reacts first, his other arm coming up to stabilise him. 

“Woah! That was close,” he says, chuckling. “Should’ve looked first, my bad.” 

Looked at what? Soyo wonders, when Jazz lets go of his hands after Soyo found his balance. Then he realises it's his leg. It’s hidden under the trouser legs, but Jazz, with the Bloodline ability to see hidden things, must’ve spotted it. 

Huh. It doesn’t feel very nice to have your secrets be so quickly exposed, even if you weren’t trying to hide them. 

“Ah, I’m Jazz,” he introduces himself as they start walking. “Nice t’meetcha!” 

“Soyo,” he replies, waving at the puppy. “Vassago Soyo. Nice to meet you, too. Can I have my wallet back?” 

“Oh of course! Here you go,” Jazz beams, handing it back casually like he didn’t literally steal it. “Anyways, who’re you placing bets on? Right now Asmodeus’ looks most promising, but there’s still a few people who haven’t done it so–” 

“Iruma. I’m betting on Iruma.”

“That was fast!” 

The betting table was full of unsavouries, bad influences, and demons who were just getting badly influenced. Soyo was almost impressed by how well the area was handled. Kalego would murder them if he cared. 

“Vassago, right?” Shax Lied speaks to him, and Soyo wonders how this guy is literally sitting on his tail, how is he— is he walking with his tail? “What’s your thing with Kalego-sensei, anyways?” 

“Soyo is fine,” he says, still lightly impressed by the perpetual tail seat— oh, wait, this guy’s the kind to keep his eyes closed like a fox? Darn it. “And Kalego is my…”

Soyo pauses. 

Family friend? No… Kalego’s technically Veer’s partner. And Narnia’s Van’s partner. He can’t say anything about the former duo, but the latter are pretty inseparable… He’s like my brother-in-law?

“It’s complicated,” he concludes. 

“That pause unsettles me greatly!” Lied beams. 

In hindsight, perhaps, Soyo was actually supposed to inform Kalego of the dangers of handing a human a summoning circle with his mark on it. That was, very literally, the job of the one demon in the Netherworld that could identify abnormal threats like these. 

But alas, Iruma used the summoning circle unknowingly… and in from Iruma’s familiar summoning ritual came Naberius Kalego himself, enslaved by accident. 

“So… why didn’t you tell Kalego-kun about it?”

He was called to the principal’s office to explain his actions. 

Because, very belatedly, Lord Sullivan realized that Soyo, who has had plenty of close contact with Iruma, had definitely realized that Iruma was a human. He wanted to know if Soyo would turn the chairdemon into Border Control for violating rules, since his grandson is a kidnapped human and all. 

But Soyo wouldn’t. Why?

“Because,” Soyo says, completely stoic. “It was way too funny. I had to watch it happen.”

“Soyo-kun…” Lord Sullivan sighs, hands folded before him. “You, my young dear…” he lifts his head, eyes glinting. “Are a genius .”

“If I may, chairdemon?” Opera, the chairdemon’s security demon and alumni of Babyls, raised a hand. They stare Soyo in the eyes and ask with all the seriousness in the world, “the familiar’s appearance is based upon the personality of the summoner. So, how cute did our little Kalego-kun become?”

“Cute enough to die for,” an answer with zero hesitation. He was a small, fluffy, birdlike abomination that Soyo fluff-fluffed to death. Kalego’s taking health leave now.

“I must see it immediately,” Opera deems, eyes shining with interest. Their ears, catlike, perked right up with rare excitement. 

“I have a feeling that if you go, you’ll make him sicker,” Sullivan says. 

“I know where he lives,” Soyo contributes, and Opera runs to him, taking his hands with sparkling eyes of fervent enthusiasm. 

“You are now my favourite child,” Opera declares. 

And Soyo won the table bet, of course, Iruma enslaved the fucking teacher, there can’t be anything more gloriously insane than that. This demon school loves the absolute hell out of batshit stunts like these. Iruma’s everyone’s hero now. 

“I’m so sorry to bother ya~” Stolas Suzy, the Diabotany teacher, leads Soyo over to the gardens of the school yard, particularly the very loud, noisy one in the far East wing. “It’s just getting to be a bit of a handful, so…” 

Apparently, she needed help with Demon Weed control. They got pretty violent and ate plants, after all, unlike normal human world weeds. Soyo understood why she wanted help exterminating them. 

“It’s no big deal,” Soyo says. 

Soyo stares blankly as gigantic, tower-sized piranha plants roared at him, baring its gory oral cavity, sending a turbulence of spit and poison in his direction. Its three rich, gleaming green eyes stared down at its next prey, shark-like teeth lining the edges of its bulb—

The sheep on Soyo’s shoulders multiplied twice. 

“See? A bit of a handful, right?” Suzy-sensei chuckles. “They’re eating students now!” 

A handful? Suzy-sensei, what kind of hands? Holy shit, they’re as crazy as those things you see in Mario Party, just, maybe three times deadlier, he’s not sure how that’s possible. All things considered, how on earth did you let them grow so huge, ma’am? 

“There aren’t many demons that can help in this, and most of them lost interest when they saw it,” Suzy-sensei sighs. 

Of course they did. Soyo throws an apology to every live plant he’s eaten in his life. He now knows how terrifying it is to be at the mercy of huge creatures that will eat you. This is karmic vengeance.

The sheep on Soyo’s head multiplied once again, and he had to hand an armful of them to the teacher for safekeeping. He retrieves his tonfa, and looks up into the creature’s three eyes, observing it sternly. 

“Well then, I’ll leave it to you! Good luck!” Suzy cheers. 

Soyo leaps when the thorny vine comes crashing down upon him. He lands on his hands, offsetting the weight on his imbalanced foot. All things considered, he’s glad he’s got years of police dog training under his belt. 

He grabs a thorn in his hand, using it to leverage his trajectory before running up. There are ways to be nimble, even with a foot that’s less than ideal. He holds on as the vine fervently attempts to shake him off, and lets go when it throws him into the air. 

His braced foot comes sharply down upon an eye, crushing it to gore and earning a loud, agonized screech. 

Soyo clicks his tongue. 

“I was aiming between them,” he mutters, annoyed, disloging his braced foot from the socket, ignoring the torture he was putting the creature through, as well as the poisonous purple blood gushing out and seeping through his shoes. 

He stands up, glaring down at the rest of the demon piranha plants, earning a horrified series of recoils. 

“Stay still,” he says, pulling his hood over his head so his hair and horns won’t get dirty. “You all have pretty eyes, so I want them intact.”

“They taste better if you boil them in a soup,” Suzy-sensei says, sitting around the bonfire and the stew pot, ladling a bowl for Soyo. “It’s called forage stew, usually, since they’re eaten by stranded adventurers. Come come, sit down and take a break.”

Soyo drops a large engorged gooey eyeball into a tank of suspension liquid. He was still rather splattered in demon plant blood, but he paid it no mind as he hurried to dissect the spoils of war. 

Suzy, on the other hand, has made demon plant stew out of the carcasses. 

“See here? It’s the seed. Don’t cook them, they’re narcotics in high doses.”

“...wait, so demon weed is actual weed?”

The passing students stare, mortified, as they calmly make food in the middle of the scene of carnage. The Diabotany Battler surrounded them, also dissecting the scene for parts that could be replanted or used for research. In fact, they were all eating so domestically, a few freshmen had already gone over for a taste. 

“You’re such a sweetie, Vassago-kun! It’s such a shame you’re in the Student Council. I’d totally ask one of my kids to kidnap you on recruitment day if not for that,” Suzy sighs. “Ah, please, eat as much as you want.”

Soyo sips on his soup, chewing on the vines like they were a delicacy. It tasted surprisingly good, not that he was ever a seeker of flavours. 

Also, thank goodness he’s in the Student Council. He’s not looking forward to getting literally hunted down on recruitment day. 

“Oh, you’re the helper?” the President of the Diabotany Battler, Solas Bobo, grinned. “I’ve heard that the Vassago are near-immune to poison, but I really didn’t expect to see someone try to eat a demon weed while it’s alive! You’re insane, alright!” 

“Is this really Vassago-sensei’s little brother?” another member asks, baffled. “The infamous demon-hating demon has such a cute little puppy for a brother? I’m in disbelief!”

“He wants the eyeballs of this demon weed, dude. He’s a Vassago alright.” 

“Don’t eat too quickly, you’re going to choke! Someone get him some water!” 

Needless to say, the whole Diabotany Battler fussed over him, surrounding him and offering more food into his bowl, and Soyo spent the rest of the day eating. His familiar snores in his hood, multiplying contentedly every once in a while.

Soyo wasn’t a big eater, but well, he was always the kind to finish his food. 

Chapter Text

“GET UP!” the wake-up call was loud like an explosion at an atom bomb factory, and Soyo jerks right awake, horrified. 

In the room, across every cot in the Student Council dorm wing, bodies were running and flying into place. The boy’s dorm was huge, split into two beds per room. It was nice, but it also meant Soyo was stuck with Grave, the scariest of the other three Student Council boys. 

“Stop staring there, get up, we need to get ready immediately!” 

The girl’s rooms were another floor, but Grave’s voice was loud enough to shout the countdown for everyone.

“Fold the blanket, put the pillow promptly! GET DRESSED IN YOUR UNIFORM!”

What is this, the military?

Soyo yawns, hurrying to the side of the bed, hopping on his better foot as he finds his assigned closet. Ameri allowed him to not wear the full uniform, but there were still a lot of parts. He tucks his pants into the boots, and the boots into the brace—

“Soyo-kun, is the shoe okay?” Quiche asks, leaning into the room. “I had to do the rushed custom sizing last night, so if there’s a problem, bear with it for today, yeah?” 

“It’s fine,” he says. “Thanks for the help.”

“130 seconds left!” 

In a flash, everyone was pulling on their double-breasted blazers, systematically getting dressed, before leaving the room to line up. Soyo pulls his blankets properly, using magic to rearrange his plush toys, before following them out, hurriedly fastening his mantle in place. 

“LINE UP!” 

Ameri was already standing before them at her desk, observing them. 

“Now tell me! WHO ARE YOU?!”

“WE ARE THE STUDENT COUNCIL OF THE DEVIL SCHOOL, BABYLS!” 

“Good! Get me today’s agenda!” 

How are they so energetic this early in the morning? Well, he sort of figured this was the kind of division the Student Council was. But it wasn’t much harder than genuine police dog training in the Netherworld, so Soyo was fine with it. 

Soyo yawns, and everyone moves to the conference table, ready to begin to work through the mountains of paperwork laid upon the desk. 

“Soyo, get me those papers!” 

Soyo knew what to expect from the student council, but the morning ‘jog’ was not part of his expectations. Members are chained to Caymans, which are basically miniature versions of Mario Chain Chomps that can fly, and they have to outrun it if they don’t want to get eaten. So, it’s not a morning jog, it’s a morning run for your life.

“You sure about this, Soyo-kun?” Quiche asks, holding the lever to the cage. “I mean… your leg, and all.”

“Stop talking nonsense,” Ameri says, “now, let’s begin.” 

What a spartan.

The cage is opened, the carnivorous beasts are released—

—and here’s the million-dollar question. Is Soyo, born with an underdeveloped, deadweight of half a leg, capable of outrunning a rabid blood-sucking cayman?

The answer is yes.

His run is awkward, and occasionally, he drops to all-fours. He leaps, more than required, and skips, when he’s about to fall. His tempo is strange, but he’s not at all slow, and he speeds through terrains with ease, lunging across obstructions with minimal effect. Even when he does fall behind, he dodges easily, and strikes. While the Cayman’s frazzled, he overtakes it again. 

Soyo’s run is quiet, efficient, and messy, but his eyes are fixed forward, never losing his goal. Very unlike Ameri, who leaves dust and devastating tracks as she jets through like a coming of the Ghost Rider. 

“He’s a police dog, after all,” Ameri says, when Soyo demands a head pat at the finish line. “This is just par for the course.”

Apparently, the Student Council is also given a list of all the students in the year that are imminent for the Wicked Phases, and even in their free time, they have to keep a lookout for any trouble that might arise. 

“They’re so busy…” Soyo reads through the list. He’s a member now, and he’s used to being constantly at attention, but this was going to be troublesome. 

The bell at his neck rings. 

Soyo looks down to see Valac Clara an actual half inch away, reaching up to prod at the bell. Her flowery green eyes glint with amusement as she flicks a finger at it, making it jingle another time.

She does it again, and Soyo leans down, bringing his face closer to hers. 

“May I help you?” he asks, and Clara blinks, surprised to see that she received tolerance instead of annoyance as a first impression. 

Then, explode. “I’m Clara!” she declares, very loudly. “I saw the bell and I was like. WOAH! That’s like the thing at Camu-Camu-san’s store, where you make it ring-ring and he’ll come! So I ring-ringed it, and you paid attention to me! Woo-hoo! Are you a store? What do you sell? By the way, if I was a store, I would sell mittens!”

Soyo had no idea where to begin. 

“Your eyes are pretty,” he says, and Clara freezes . It’s a very jarring lime green, just like her hair, but she makes it work in a very soothing way, especially paired with her light pink ram horns. “I’m Soyo.”

“S- S- So!” Clara composes herself, “what do I do? This is the first time someone’s said something like that to me! Oh, oh and uh. Your eyes are pretty too! They’re like. This colour!” she brings out a bloodmonster daisy, flower pot and all, from her pockets, “here you can have it!” 

“Thank you. Can I eat it?” 

“You eat it?!” Clara yelps, but Soyo is already putting it in his mouth, despite the flower’s terrified attempts at getting free. It was still struggling between his teeth, but he swallowed it and licked his lips, looking very pleased at his meal. She stares, entirely baffled, and Soyo looks at her, not so sure why she was taken aback. 

Then she beams. 

“Soyoyon!” she declares, “play with Clara!” 

After a great deal of playing (throwing paint at walls, running from the patrol, and doing somersaults in the air,) with the exuberant mound of eternal energy, Soyo takes Clara by the hand and she leads him to the room where they’re meant to take their reference books. 

“I have to go back to the Student Council room now,” Soyo says, looking at his messages. Ameri’s furious at him. “Let’s play some other time, Clara.”

“H’okay!” Clara salutes. She taps her pockets and out comes a bottle of energy drink. “Here! For you! Let’s play again some other time!” 

Soyo looks at the drink in confusion, but he accepts it, patting her on the head. She’s so accustomed to being used as a free vending machine that she’d done it again, like some sort of habit. In her eyes there’s a sense that this is obvious— obviously, people only play with such an annoying character for something in return. She’s resigned to that fate. 

In a way, that’s unbelievably sad. 

Soyo looks through his pockets, and finds a little green sheep keychain that was attached to his belt. Oh well, it’s better than nothing. He's got a ton of these sheep trinkets, anyways. 

“Thanks for playing with me too, Clara,” he unties the strap and hands it to her, closing her hands over it. “And thanks for the drink. You can have this in exchange.”

She looks a little stunned. 

This was probably the first time she's been given something, instead of simply giving. He could see the overwhelming confusion in her eyes. 

“Then, I’ll be going,” he says. 

“Ah, uhn! Okay. Bye-bye, Soyoyon! See ya again!” 

AMERI:

Your 13 counts of vandalism
will be addressed once you
return to the office.

SOYO:

Then I won’t come back
╰(*´︶`*)╯♡
I don’t wanna die after all.

AMERI:

Brat! Fine then,
Don’t come home!

SOYO :

(｡•́︿•̀｡) am I homeless now?
Abandoned puppy living in an
empty cardboard box?

AMERI:

THE DOOR IS OPEN,
JUST GET BACK HERE.

He got put in the Misfits class. 

“...but why?” he asks, a little pale in the face. What did he do? He’s been a very good boy thus far in the academy, hasn’t he? He went to classes on time, and well, there was that thing with Clara, but he’s just been strung along, he’s not the instigator. 

There’s too much pressure on the fact that he’s the only Student Council member that got so prominently called out for abnormal behavior. The Student Council’s job is to be model students, they can’t do this. Plus, the addition of him would ruin the poetic beauty of the Thirteen misfits. He’s the fourteenth, that’s weird. . 

“You’re not seriously wondering why you’re in there, right?” Ameri points out, very appalled. 

“Ameri, I thought you were on my side,” Soyo says, a little hurt. 

“The chairdemon made a whole class for rampant attention-seekers, and of all things, you got put into it?” Van sounds exasperated, even through the phone. “Soyo, I had very worrying expectations, but you’ve surpassed it. Congratulations.”

“Why does your congratulations feel like a curse?”

“That’s because it is. Why are you like this?”

“...because I’m cute?”

“You’re insufferable!”

Babyls in the late night were quiet. Everyone was already asleep, and Soyo should be too, since tomorrow’s the official first day of new class assignments. 

But he couldn’t, so here he was, on a phone call. 

“Who’s your homeroom?”

According to the way Dali-sensei was smiling, “Sir Kalego.”

Van chokes out in laughter. “Poor him! Or maybe I should say poor you guys?”

It’ll be a tumultuous year, definitely. 

Soyo sighs, leaning back against the wall, his legs hanging over the ledge of the balcony as he took in the midnight breeze in silence. 

Van could probably hear his melancholy from the other side of the phone call. The voice Trail was useful like that, and Soyo felt a little better, knowing he was heard even without any real words. 

Soyo wanted a distraction. From whatever he’d dreamed about, whatever he didn't want to remember. He couldn’t play games much here. 

“Hey, is… is Veer doing well there?” 

Now, that was a question Soyo hadn’t thought of yet. 

“I haven’t seen him around,” Soyo admits. He’s avoiding me. Of course he is, he avoids everyone. “I might see him if I take the Practical Skills elective class.”

“So, are you?”

“No,” Soyo says. “You know he can’t stand me.”

It can’t be helped. 

Two years ago, Veer was taken by a clan that held deep spite for the Vassagos. Unlike with Van, they didn’t stop at attempted murder, and even after he’d recovered, Veer just didn’t want anyone in the family to learn of what happened to him. So he’d closed himself off, and delved headfirst into work. He hasn’t spoken to Van since.

(They all knew, though. There was no way he could’ve hidden anything.)

(That’s why no one stopped him from running away.)

“But I got my familiar,” Soyo says, changing the subject. “It’s this super cute thing called an Aries Pixie. I’ll send you pictures later.”

“An Aries Pixie… those things that multiply? Wait, so now you have a portable plush toy harem?!” 

The Misfits classroom was very out of the way. 

And by ‘out of the way’, he means outside the main building, hidden in a basement down a series of stairs, and behind a crusted rusted door with a lopsided signboard with the class number pasted on. 

Gotta do something about those stairs, though, Soyo sighs, leaning against the wall. There are way too many of them.

Maybe he should give in and get a crutch already—

—Soyo opens the door nonchalantly, like an absolute idiot. Maybe it’s because he was tired and distracted with mild annoyance, but he can’t believe he forgot the horrors. 

He ducks back just in time to dodge a barrage of blades shooting down from above, but then there was a tripwire on the floor that made an axe drop down on the outside , and Soyo is forced to leap in to get out of the way. The new slew of weapons came at him and he barely caught an axe to swing out, destroying the other projectiles. 

Geez, these things are sharp! Are you trying to kill?

Right. Demons and their vitality. 

A lance luckily misses him by a mere centimeter when he gets up, and Soyo holds his breath, thanking the nonexistent gods of the netherworld. The weapons didn’t stop yet, how on earth did they even get this many? But Soyo desperately defends himself, knowing that once he gets to the teacher’s desk, he’d be safe. 

Five steps away from it, Soyo’s leg gives in and he squeaks , collapsing onto the ground, axe loosing from his grip— and, from the right, a fucking machete.

Right as Soyo was relieved that the machete got stuck on his bone instead of splicing clean through, an iron mace dropped straight on his head.

The nasty careless entrant trap finally comes to an end. 

“Ow,” Soyo mutters, when he’s recovered his composure enough to be upset at the blood dripping down his forehead. “That was completely uncalled for.” Who put the mace there? That’s a murder weapon, damn it, do demons have no knowledge of what a concussion is?

…to be fair, though, their skulls are much harder. Soyo would be dead if not for it. 

“Cool! Exactly two of them hit you,” Shax Lied throws his hands up in hurray. “I win!” 

“I bet on five!” Jazz whines, “sorry for underestimating ya, buddy. Totally thought you’d trip on that floorboard. No offense.”

What floorb– holy crap that floorboard’s sticking out. How did he not see it?

Soyo hates this place. Set up a death trap at the entranceway and bet on how many will be able to hit the poor guy, huh? It’s almost appalling how everyone in the classroom was enthusiastically participating, including the pacifists. 

Also, how in the hell do you safely pull out a machete stuck on your forearm?

“Here, let me get that,” says Gaap Goemon, reaching for the weapon stuck in Soyo’s arm. Ix Elizabetta was already holding the first aid kit. Meanwhile, Crocell Kerori hands Soyo a handkerchief, gesturing toward his head, and he gratefully takes it, staunching the bleeding there. 

Gaap’s face looks like a mop, with slits for eyes. That’s not interesting. 

Elizabetta’s pretty, though. Which makes sense— long blonde hair, sharp red eyes, that very pointedly altered uniform— she’s the symbolism of feminine sexuality if he’s ever seen it. 

“Huh? You’re…” Soyo turns toward the shorter girl in the room. Kerori’s got the same icy blue eyes as Kuromu, but for some reason, despite his very well knowledge that it’s one and the same… something just disrupted his ability to analyze it. “Detection-warding glasses?” 

Kerori jumps. “Ah— yes! I’m sorry,” she shrinks, fixing her glasses nervously. “They are.”

She was looking frantically away, hands clenched tight, thumbs folded in, completely flustered internally, an audible sight even with those aforementioned glasses. Soyo might have recognition-warding in his hood as well, but it isn’t hard to guess, so she’s definitely recognized Soyo as well. 

But in lieu of their mutual hidden identities, she refrains. Alright, Soyo will respect that. 

They collected their bets cheerfully. Ah, there’s Sabnock Sabro, who caught every single projectile with his body. Do idiots not bleed?

…Soyo frowns. He’s too tall. He can’t see his eyes properly from here. 

“You’re from the Student Council? Even though we’re first years?” Sabnock asks. 

“I have special circumstances.”

“Is President Ameri really as gorgeous as the rumours say?” asks Caim Camui with clearly feral intentions. “No no, don’t misunderstand. I simply, with only innocently carnal intentions, want to be stepped on.”

“You have a better chance at getting pitched into the sixth dimension.”

Also, what the hell is ‘innocently carnal’ supposed to mean?

“Heya, it’s me again,” Jazz grins in greeting. 

Soyo holds onto the nearest table for balance as Elizabetta bandages his arm. “Hey. We met in the familiar summoning ritual,” he acknowledges. 

“I’m glad we’re in the same class!” Lied adds, and Soyo nods… very briefly, lifting his head to realize Lied’s eyes are open. Score. 

Soyo grabs his face immediately, earning a startled squeak, but Lied keeps his eyes open, so Soyo takes all the time in the world to realize they’re a very breathtaking shade of lilac. They’re startled, full of confusion, and a little sleep deprivation, but they’re bright, and fresh, and full of innocent ambition. 

“Your eyes are pretty,” he says. 

Lied blooms, “you think so?”

Soyo nods. “So, can I have your eyes?”

“Huh?” instantly, the joy turns to exasperated confusion.

“Do you just say that to everyone?” Agares mutters, yawning from his cloud pillow. Soyo turns to him, sulking when he’s met with a sleep mask instead of gorgeous amber eyes. “If you try to steal my Shishou again I’m sticking you on a tree and leaving you there.” 

Is ‘Shishou’ the name of his flying nimbus…?

“I’m not a cat,” Soyo says. “I’m a dog.”

“If it’s a dog, then tie it to a tree and tell it to sit,” Allocer suggests.

Soyo violently recoils. How could Allocer the lion, the feline, suggest such a horrifying, cruel thing! Soyo shrinks back, ducking behind Elizabetta, trembling. 

Elizabetta turns around, patting Soyo on the head. “There, there, was the scary lion guy being mean to you?” 

“That was so evil, I’m appalled,” Sabnock agrees. 

Allocer stares blankly at them, similarly appalled. By their stupidity. 

“I am done fixing the traps!” Gaap says, hustling back over. “The next student is coming by now! I think it’s the Honour Student Iruma.”

“Alright, time to cast bets again—” 

“I bet that he’ll dodge all of them,” Soyo says, immediately. 

“You cast bets way too quickly, Soyo-kun!”

Chapter Text

The Misfits class was just as he expected— chaotic, rambunctious, and all in all, full of dumbasses. Clara chases after Sabnock’s tail, and Lied continues to play his game throughout the explanation for their very first activity. 

The hillside behind the school opens into flying race trials. 

“All of you must cross the perilous valley until you reach the flag,” Kalego explains, ripping the cute animated instructions guide to pieces before stepping on it. “Your ranks will be determined by how well you perform.”

Soyo looks around the class, counting the amount of people, once, twice, huh? There’s an extra the second time. But the third time he counts, it’s back to one missing person. He has no idea where he got the extra person, even though he was naming each one as he went. 

…thus is the fearsome power of Purson Soi, the demon with the ability to be alarmingly forgettable. 

“The Flying Race is starting! Unfold your wings!” 

Soyo jumps back to attention. The explanation’s already over? His game of ‘find Purson’ is cut immediately short as his wings reveal themselves, and he hurries to find a spot near the starting line. 

“Get set, and GO!” 

Soyo jets forward alongside the rest of the class, and briefly, he enjoys the sight of Naberius Kalego shoving Iruma down the cliff. 

It’s okay, Iruma’s the main character, he won’t die. 

“What are you doing, Vassago-kun?” 

Mid-flight, Soyo snags the demonitor out of the air, inspecting the lens carefully. He knows very well Kalego’s watching their progress through it, so honestly, bringing it along is doing it a favour. 

“It’s cute,” Soyo says. Have you ever seen a little flying demon camera that squeaks when you grab it? These things are adorable. 

“You really think so?” Clara asks, casually clinging onto Asmodeus’ back. “Soyoyon, your tastes are weird.”

“You’re the last person allowed to judge people’s tastes!” Asmodeus snaps. “And get off my back, Valac! Fly yourself!” 

Clara cheerfully ignores him. 

Asmodeus Alice, for an intimidating, affronting character, was delightfully bubblegum pink. Even his eyes are deep magenta. It makes sense that he goes perfectly right next to lime green Clara and cobalt blue Iruma. 

As expected of the character that’s actually an incubus but people rarely acknowledge it because of his tough guy persona. He’s full of pride, and when Iruma’s not around, his nature-imbued arrogance and unhindered sense of presence shine through.

“How long are you going to stare at me?” Asmodeus finally speaks up, irritated. “I’ll go on ahead. Take this obnoxious one with you.”

He’s pointing at Clara as he says the last part. 

Nah, buddy, take your soulmate yourself. 

“Your eyes are really pretty,” Soyo says. 

Asmodeus’ face immediately sinks into murderous. “What are your intentions in saying something creepy like that?” he says, not a hint of tolerance in his voice as fire burned in his palm. “Do you want to die? Is that it?”

Wow, as expected of someone that’s grown up as an incubus. He’s completely unfazed by compliments and unwarranted ones can only be indicators of foul intentions to him. 

Soyo is very endeared by it. He’s looking at me like I’m trash, but he’s being entirely honest and that’s very beautifully reflected in his eyes, and well— the Vassagos appreciate honesty, if nothing else. He genuinely wants to kill me. He’s so pretty.

Maybe Soyo should ask Iruma to do it and see what happens. 

“Who’s prettier, me or Azz-Azz?” Clara asks, raising her hand. 

Soyo hums. “I like red things, so Azz-Azz wins.”

“Don’t call me that!” Asmodeus snaps. 

The demonitor in his hand continues to record their antics. Somewhere at the finish line, Naberius Kalego lets out a longsuffering sigh. 

Soyo really does like red things. 

He separates from Asmodeus and Clara when they come across demon weeds in the wild. Those are far more dangerous than weeds you could find in any school yard, so Soyo did the wise thing and decided to go find the big boss of demon weed kingdom. 

The President of the Diabotany division told him it was a rare delicacy, so of course, he needs to try it. 

“...And that’s why I’m lost,” he says into the demonitor, sitting down by the demon weed carcass, waiting for forage stew to boil. “I think I’m in Cutthroat Valley.” 

“YOU FUCKING IDIOT!” Naberius Kalego yells, via the demonitor’s voice communicator feature. Soyo actually had to hold it arm’s length away from him because of the volume. 

“But, Kalego-sensei, what do I do?” Soyo holds the demonitor carefully, running a finger past the dented lens, “this demonitor was watching from afar, so I didn’t notice when it got injured. Will it be okay?”

“Why are you worried about a demonitor?! It’s a disposable camera!” 

“But it’s cute…” 

“It can be fixed! Can you worry about the fact that you’re lost?! One after another with all of you!” Kalego groans. “At least you have a communicator. Those other fools are lost causes now.”

Other fools? There are other people who are lost, like Soyo?

Ah right, Iruma and Sabnock. Iruma’s genuinely lost too, but Sabnock was supposed to come in here because he wanted to test his strength against the advice of the teacher, or something. They’ll probably make it back just like how they did in the anime. 

“Anyways, come back right now.”

“My stew isn’t done boiling yet.”

“I DON’T CARE! Get back here or I’m expelling you!” 

Soyo pouts. Alright then, whatever. The food’s still not cooked enough, but Soyo can eat anything anyways, raw or not…

Soyo turns around, only to find fluffy feathers right behind him. 

Wait, when did this wall— he looks up to find gleaming, haunting red eyes, staring down at him. The Guardian of Cutthroat Valley stares down at him, a humongous looming presence. If Soyo had summoned his familiar, it would probably have quadrupled from Soyo’s internal horror. 

Peeking out from behind a wing is its child, much smaller and with much lighter fur, but not any less fearsome. Also, it’s still huge enough to step on him. 

“Soyo… is that what I think it is?” Kalego sounds a little taken aback. He’s looking from the camera feed, right? Please save me. 

“Oh! Soyo-kun,” like a savior, out pops Iruma from behind the— under? Where— creature’s feathers, looking a little dusty but smiling widely. “Is that stew? It looks delicious! I’ve never seen such a huge pot of stew before!” 

“IRUMA?!” the teacher exclaims before Soyo gets to. 

“Oh, Kalego-sensei?! Why’s your voice coming out of that thing? It could do that?” Iruma’s flustered, “and ah yes. We got lost but… ah, this is the Guardian of Cutthroat Valley, we uh… are sorry for…” 

“Huh, so he’s over there,” came Sabnock, emerging from the other side. “The Guardian of the valley demands a meal, so we followed Iruma’s food instincts and arrived here.” 

“What?!” 

Iruma’s ahoge, cowlick, antenna, thing— just wiggled, like a happy puppy’s tail. What the hell is that thing and its amazing radar for cuisine, anyways? 

And oh, so that’s why they’re here. 

Good thing Soyo made a huge pot, then.

“Then,” Soyo decides that they’re a gift from satan, since he can now enjoy his meal before going back, “it’s an honour to meet you, Guardian of the Cutthroat Valley. If you’re hungry, then let’s eat together.” 

“It’s fine?!” Iruma’s already drooling. 

“But you hunted this yourself, it wouldn’t be good to take your spoils,” Sabnocks says, hesitant. 

“You hunted it?!” Iruma’s horrified. 

“It’s fine, I wouldn’t have been able to finish the whole thing myself,” Soyo says. “It’ll go to waste if I don’t share it. So, whoever wants to eat, raise your hands.”

Iruma and the baby monster bird immediately raised their limbs. “Me! ME!”

“Then, go find other edible plants that can be thrown into the stew.”

They cheerfully scamper off, and Sabnock looks over at them, a little baffled at how easily Soyo handled the children. “Uhm… we appreciate it, Vassago. Sorry to bother, this is my bad, since I picked a fight with the Guardian and…” 

Huh. He’s humble now. And his eyes are an amber-yellow gradient. They’re not very vibrant, but his eyes are much sharper, full of ambition.

“It’s fine. Can you make some cutlery?”

“Sure.”

“What? Wait, a minute, Soyo! IRUMA! SABNOCK SABRO! All of you, listen to me!” 

“I’m ba—” Soyo gets interrupted by a violent chop to the head. 

“Silence,” Kalego threatens, low and hollow. He gestures toward the little enclosure, where he also forces Iruma and Sabnock to kneel. 

Soyo reads the sign he’s given. It reads ‘reflecting’. What an annoyance, it’s not like he got lost on purpose…

“Soyo,” Kalego says, coming up very close with the look of death in his eyes. “ Sit .”

Soyo is on his knees before he understands what’s going on. 

“Good. Now stay there,” Kalego says, turning back to the class. “Alright, the rest of you that actually did the race, I’m going to be presenting your ranks. Listen as I tell you how it’ll go.”

He’s ignoring him. He’s ignoring him forever. Soyo’s officially a disappointment. This is it. This is the end of his reign as a good boy.

Soyo’s ready to cry. 

Iruma and Sabnock fluster at the sight of him, baffled. “Uh– it’s okay! He’s a big meanie, but we promise he’s not mad at you!” He totally is, but that’s besides the point. “Kalego-sensei, you made him cry!” 

“Let him cry,” Kalego says. 

“What? You demon!”

“Thank you,” Kalego briefly replies, before holding up his clipboard along with the owl on his shoulder, “so this is the ranking owl, what you’re going to do is put your hand in this pouch and whatever badge you’ll get is your ranking.” 

And so the world moves on. 

Soyo deflates, teary-eyed. 

“S- Soyo-kun! I like you!” Iruma insists, his panic very clear in the random love confession that makes Asmodeus miss the ranking owl and grab Clara in the face instead, “the stew was delicious! You fed me! So uh. I think you’re a good boy!” 

“...am I?” Soyo’s ears perked back up. 

“YES,” Iruma loudly insists. 

Soyo’s tail wags, curiously. Then, remember that Iruma can’t say no to people’s requests. “Can I have your eyes?”

Iruma is understandably freaked out. “What? I uh.”

“...please?” Soyo asks, leaning closer. 

Iruma takes ten thousand points of damage. For each second he refuses to say yes to that request, he loses one extra HP. He clenches his chest, in genuine agony, “I… can’t…” then, crumbling like a pushover, “maybe just one?”

Soyo’s entire being perks up. “I can?!”

“No you can’t! Iruma! Reconsider right now!” Sabnock yells, and Kalego spins around to violently chuck the clipboard at Soyo’s face. 

“Your turn on the owl, Soyo!” Kalego orders. 

“Gimel [3], huh,” Kalego notes that down. “I’d thought… well, nevermind.”

Soyo peruses the badge for a moment before putting it in his mouth. 

Kalego considers sucker-punching the insolent dog for a very real second. Soyo knows this because he stares Kalego straight in the eye before attempting his impulse. Obediently, he spits it out to show it’s unharmed, bows, and makes a hasty escape.

“I can’t tell if you’re a daredevil or just really stupid,” Lied says. 

“I am Soyo,” comes the answer. 

“...I have a feeling that’s going to be a very fitting answer one day,” Lied deems. “But you know what? Be you, dude! I dig it!” 

There were only a handful of Rank 3s, and Asmodeus was a Rank 4, so Soyo supposed this was a big deal. He didn’t quite understand the ranking beyond general talent, so he honestly supposed his lineage and experience in family work was a huge factor on his rank already. It seemed fair… can his rank drop? He’s not sure. 

“Uhm, Iruma? What’s that?” 

All eyes turned to Iruma. The owl’s run off with a terrified shriek, and Iruma’s hand emerges from the bag with no badge but a single ring to prove himself. 

An apparition, dark and haunting, emerges from the trinket— it roars, hollow and despaired— and then it howled , its murderous voice reverberating violently through Babyls, the earth trembling around it. 

By the time Iruma manages to calm it down, Soyo is shivering in a corner, desperately covering his sensitive ears. 

“Guys, Soyo-kun’s down!” 

“He’s a canine demon, so his hearing’s enhanced, I guess.”

“Don’t worry!” Sabnock says, “I'll handle th–” he reaches for the apparition, and instantly, he crumbles to his knees, body toppling lifelessly onto the ground. 

“Oh no! Sabnock-kun’s down too!” 

“What are you doing, idiot?!” Asmodeus yells, “don’t worry, Iruma-sama! I’ll take care of th—” the apparition latches onto him, and Asmodeus’ eyes rolls right back before he falls straight back, blacking right out. 

“AZZ-KUN!” Iruma wails in despair. 

“It’s taken out three of our strongest links!” Lied yells out, louder than necessary. “Fellow weaklings, evacuate!” 

In the end, it’s the Chairdemon himself that has to come and fix the problem. They can’t get the ring out of Iruma’s hand, but at least it wasn't screaming bloody murder anymore.

Kalego sighs, sitting down at his desk. The office was decently empty, only a handful of teachers marking papers around, which was rare. But he knew what that meant. 

“Ka~lego-chan!” 

“Touch my hair and you’ll lose your arms.”

Vassago Veer pauses in mid-air, and then, he decides against it, sitting down on the chair on the other side instead. With a pout, he brushes his silver hair back over his ear. “You’re so mean to me for no reason.”

“It’s for a very good reason,” Kalego says, raises the crock whip. “It’s called boundaries, something your family can’t comprehend.”

“How rude,” Veer says, “I completely understand boundaries.”

He says, fading in a blink and re-emerging behind Kalego seated on his desk, his hand gently perusing the edges of the demon’s hair. His feet were thrown over Kalego’s shoulders, hanging childishly over each side. 

“You have two seconds before I—”

“You spoil me,” Veer smiles. And then, jumps away. “I only need one.” Veer sits on the back of the couch as Kalego grumbles a curse under his breath. “So? How’s my adorable younger brother, who I behest with the depths of my soul, doing in class?”

How ridiculous. He clearly loves his brother. 

“Figure it out yourself.”

“Don’t wanna. I don’t want to see him.”

“You don’t wanna see him, utter bullcrap,” Kalego says. “You just don’t want to be seen. You’re pathetic. This school doesn’t need a guard dog that’s afraid of guests at the door.”

Veer hums. “Perhaps.” 

Finally, Kalego sighs, opening one hand to reveal a single strand of silver hair in his palm. Veer’s eyes light right up, and he jumps for it, taking it in his hands and holding it out to the light like a precious specimen. 

“Soyo’s hair!” he gleams, overjoyed. “I hate him, but his hair has done no wrong.”

“Found it on my sleeve. Apparently dog hair sticks easily,” Kalego says. 

“Whatever you say!” Veer beams. “So, Soyo’s in Gimel [3]? How peculiar. I’d thought he’d definitely be a He [5] at least. He’s our house’s little prodigy, after all. He even hunted a Demon Weed King all on his own today! Isn’t he just the bestest little genius ever? My brother is adorable!”

Kalego makes a retching noise. These Vassagos are gross with their doting tendencies.

“Isn’t it because you guys put all those commands on him?” Kalego says. “He’s basically living upon those rules, never even understanding how little freedom he has. It’s an unnatural amount, even for your family.”

Veer pauses at that. 

“Vassagos are dogs, Kalego,” he says. “And above all, we obey Dad’s commands.”

Due to their lie-detecting nature, the Vassago value promises and honesty above all else. They would never defy the rules that have been set out for them. That’s precisely why they tend to obey, if you tell them to sit and stay. 

Usually, they only listen to their partners, which in Soyo’s case would be Ameri, but Soyo’s been raised to listen to anyone he respects. And he’s a polite boy, so he respects a lot of people. Kalego can’t imagine how easily this could be taken advantage of.  

And that wasn’t the only thing. 

Compared to his brothers, Soyo was startlingly empty. Soyo was affectionate, but he certainly wasn’t expressive. And while Soyo was just as honest as the rest of his brothers, he certainly wasn’t bright and excitable. 

At some point, Saga had told him, ‘don’t get too excited’, and he took the command literally. He’s always been under an invisible wall of calm since then.

“If Dad places any rules on us, it’s because it’s very necessary,” Veer says. “And we trust that he knows best.” 

Kalego doesn’t understand this family. He probably never will. And maybe, that’s the point. They remain elusive, because this family of truth-seeking dogs know best what would happen when information is misused.

“Trust me, Kalego,” Veer says. “There are very good reasons for Soyo’s restrictions. Let’s hope Babyls never finds out why.”

Iruma continues to surprise the netherworld with his ridiculous actions. 

In Diabotany class, Soyo creates a flower that’s a furry monster with ten eyeballs and jaws as teeth-riddled as a feral beast. 

“I’ll give it a A,” Suzy-sensei deems. 

“...can I eat it?” Soyo asks. 

“Not the pot, though! It’ll give even you some indigestion,” Suzy says, moving right on to the next person. 

Jazz is treated to the rather horrifying sight of Soyo’s jaws unhinging to swallow the whole creature alive. It’s still struggling in his mouth, and Jazz is starting to feel sick.

“It’s a bit furry,” Clara says. 

Soyo nods, grimacing as the fur gets stuck on his tongue and between his teeth. “But it’s yummy,” he says, “Want some, Clara?”

“No,” she says, then she produces her own pot of abomination, a triple-layered piranha polka dot pitcher plant venus flytrap tentacle thing, “you want this though?”

“I can have it?”

“Eat it, Soyoyon!” 

“Okay.”

Jazz is mortified, but he genuinely can’t tear his eyes away. It was a nightmare, but he just had to watch this horrifying thing happen in real time. 

“How’d it taste?”

“Very… fun.”

“What does ‘fun’ taste like?!”

AMERI:

Why did the honour student
Create a plant that doesn’t
Exist in this world?

SOYO:

Dunno ┐('～`;)┌

AMERI:

Soyo my beloathed.
You literally know everything.

SOYO:

I plead the fifth
ヾ(・ω・*)

AMERI:

Of the human constitution?!?

Chapter Text

Soyo isn’t around when Ameri meets Iruma, but he does get quite a hilarious series of commentary over text. Ameri’s freaking out over her observations, also her rampant misunderstandings are getting worse, and generally just a lot of hilarious tomfoolery that Soyo is not helping her figure out. 

AMERI:

HE DID THE THING.
THE HUMAN THING where u
Crash into a corner fall in love
Or something that magic thing.

I AM 66% SURE IRUMA
IS A HUMAN BEING.

SOYO:

He might be.

AMERI:

If you would just look me in the
Eye and tell me whether I’m
Right or wrong I will believe you.

SOYO:

I don’t lie. Vassagos hate lying.

AMERI:

Then why aren’t you using kaomojis

SOYO:

Fifth Amendment to the
United States Constitution.

AMERI:

I swear to devi I regret giving you
That human fictional law textbook 

SOYO:

Printing Presses and
Publications Act 1948

AMERI:

What’s 1+1?

SOYO:

Freedom of speech
And expression.

AMERI:

Call me.
I said CALL ME.

SOYO DO NOT GHOST ME

Ameri starts hanging out frequently with Iruma. Soyo sees love in her eyes, though he doesn’t understand the feeling well enough to know how far she ever acknowledges it herself. 

But she truthfully enjoys her friendship with Iruma, and beyond anything, Soyo loves it when her eyes shine with heartfelt emotion. 

“Stop staring, Vassago,” Asmodeus threatens. 

The bell rings for the end of class, but all Soyo does is turn around and stare straight into Asmodeus’ face, like he has no concept of subtlety. 

“Oh, you’re today’s victim, huh?” Jazz says, coming by, “he spent all of yesterday staring at mine. I think it’s kind of a compliment.”

“Pretty eyes,” Soyo says, nodding sagely. “If I don’t spend at least ten hours a day staring at eyes, I will die of withdrawal symptoms.”

“Why’d you phrase it like a drug addiction?” Jazz asks, very dryly.

“Withdrawal symptoms?” Asmodeus asks, horrified. “What?”

Soyo crosses his arms and sighs miserably. “If I don’t see enough eyes… I will cry.”

“Those aren’t withdrawal symptoms!” Asmodeus snaps, slamming his hand on the table, grabbing Soyo by the collar with the other. “Don’t make a mockery of overindulgence and addiction, you punk!” 

“Crap, he hit a nerve!” Jazz frantically reports to the classroom, grabbing Asmodeus by the wrist and hands before he punches the blankly-staring Soyo, “someone, hurry and get the Azz-kun calming agent!” 

“If you’re talking about Iruma, then he ran off when the bell rang,” Elizabetta says. 

“Someone help!” 

Later, when the class convenes in the training grounds to play Cannonball Execution (dodgeball), Asmodeus very pointedly aims a fiery serpent of sheer death at him. 

“Soyo-kun?” Lied calls out, when Soyo just stares. “SOYO-KUN?!”

Soyo is terrified, honestly he is, but then the fire was so gorgeous and bright and wonderfully shining that he marvels at it for too long. The velocity drives right through his face, sending him flying and burying him about ten feet into the wall. 

“Devi Jesus, Asmodeus you killed him!”

“It’s his own fault for not dodging,” Asmodeus says, dusting his hands. 

Soyo looks toward the light groggily, his head absolutely dismantled in that strike. If he was a human he’d be dead. 

He was lying in a person-shaped crater down, deep in the bowels of the mountain wall that made up this basement. Huh. It’s comfortable here. Nice and cramped and he fits perfectly in this rocky crevice. It’s quiet, too. Also he can’t move.

“Soyo can you hear us?! Are you dead?!”

“Also can you grab the ball on the way out?”

“Soyo-kun, are you in there? Holy shit I can’t see the end of this cave,” Lied hurries to the mouth of the crater. They can’t even make him out inside it.

Iruma peeks in and screams when he sees a ghastly red gleam inside. “GYAHH! What is that?!” 

“Tappada Lucidity!” Clara says. “Pretty dog demons have it.” 

“What?”

“Tapetum Lucidum,” Asmodeus corrects. 

“That doesn’t explain it any better, but thank you, Azz-kun.”

Sabnock peeks inside. Half the class have come over to marvel at it now. “Yeah, he’s lodged in there alright. You can come out of there, Vassago? Do we need an extraction device?”

Soyo lays there, in some semblance of a sitting position. He’d carved this hole with his body, so yeah, technically if he’s careful he can crawl out of it. But he feels some bruised bones and burns and he just decides it might be more comfortable to sit there. 

“...I think I live here now,” he says. 

“Don’t give up, Soyo-kun!” Iruma wails. 

There’s no way they’ll be able to fix the rock formation, so after they get Soyo out, they just install a signboard that reads ‘fits one(1) moron’ and then they collectively pretend it’s an art piece.

“You’re not staring at my eyes today, you’re just wasting my time,” Asmodeus threatens before Soyo fully turns around in his seat. 

Soyo pouts, but he begrudgingly nods, reaching toward his bag. 

“If I give you this, can I stare for a day?” 

It’s a sheep-shaped keychain, cotton candy pink in colour. 

Asmodeus grimaces. “Why would I want such a thing?” Asmodeus says. “Such cheap products are the furthest thing from my ima—” 

“Oh! It’s the same one I have!” Clara interrupts, jumping over the table to show off her own green version. She has it attached to her belt. 

“Clara, you’ve got one too?” Iruma says, eyes shining. Then, after fumbling all around his bag until he finds his phone where his own blue sheep hung, he proudly shows it off. “Look. We match!” 

“Cool!” Clara beams. 

Soyo stares at Asmodeus for a moment, watching as the boy’s face scrunches up with so much inner conflict he has to actively fight against himself to settle his raging emotions. 

He wants the sheep. Really badly. To match with Iruma. But he desperately doesn’t want to admit he’ll also match with Clara. But it’s so far away from his aesthetic. Plus he knows this is just Soyo’s way of bribing him to get some time to stare at his eyes like an obnoxious child. But Iruma-sama has one! Imagine having something that matches with Iruma-sama! This is a trap. This is a trap, don’t fall for it, Asmodeus!

Soyo looks into his eyes and sees envy and adoration. 

And when he puts it into Asmodeus’ hand, only to see Iruma happily declare they match— Asmodeus’ eyes light right up with such innocent delight, Soyo can’t help but smile. 

(As a side effect of the Vassago bloodline magic, Soyo’s always consumed by addiction. Some are more problematic than the others, but they crave emotions, they crave information, and they crave the beauty of the trail they follow.)

(But for today, Soyo’s already very satisfied.)

Clara tries her best to seduce Iruma, and her efforts are so endearingly awful that Soyo can’t help but pity her. Raim, the succubus teacher who’s trying very hard to help Clara, is watching miserably at the doorway.

Huh. Soyo might as well help out, then.

“Come here, Clara,” he says, when she’s upset that her makeup skills have failed. 

Clara blinks, confused, and Soyo gestures for her to sit on the table. The rest of the class convene, curious. 

“Close your eyes, I’m going to remove the mess first,” he says, putting a modest cosmetics box on the table beside her. 

He hasn’t done this for a while, since there aren’t cosplay conventions in this reality (at least not the sort he’s able to attend), and though he can wear it daily, there’s just not much to work with when his only canvas is himself and an occasional Ameri. 

He’s always felt much calmer doing makeup. It’s a perk of his past life, where he spent most of his time doing cosmetic work, as a streamer and cosplayer. 

“Clara’s not really the type that conventional makeup would suit, so…” 

Clara swings her leg, watching curiously. Kerori is staring respectfully. Lied leans his chin into a palm, watching from a table away. Elizabetta is right behind them, also curious. The rest were just busybodies.

He flexes his fingers. 

Soyo goes all out, curling into gala territory, going for bold colours people wouldn’t use on the daily basis, and opting for gaudy patterns you’d only see people do for art rather than for show. Painting vines and flowers along the side of her face, he laces them into her cheeks, and traces them down into a river down her neck. 

Creative makeup is not something common in the netherworld, because down here, this specific leisure of painting your face in gaudy, bold patterns doesn’t exist yet. For beauty, yes, but for chaotic artistic expression, no. They value natural beauty down here, and patterns on the body are usually reserved for ritualistic significance, in tattoos and such. 

But he’s done it many times in his past life for trends and views. He’s managed to do it with faulty fingers last time around, so this time definitely comes easily to him. 

Carefully, he hums a random tune, working even as Clara gets distracted, her own attention span waning. But they cope, legs swinging, tunes harmonising. Soyo’s hands take the brush daintily, his pinky rising in a strange habit as he drops in the finishing touches. 

By the time he’s done, the entire classroom is applauding in amazement. 

“And finally… close your mouth,” he warns before spraying setting spray all over her. “Knowing you, you’ll smudge it immediately. So, just in case.” 

Clara squeals at the sight of herself in the mirror, and Soyo felt like he had all the right in the world to feel proud when the class applauded in amazement. 

“Holy shit, he made Clara look good.”

“What an unexpected hidden talent.” 

Unexpected was a little uncalled for. In the Netherworld, makeup definitely wasn’t a female-oriented thing. Most boys even wore nail polish like it went without saying, and demons lined their lashes and shaded their eyes, but that was it.

Even Kerori is glancing up and down as Clara obnoxiously poses, pretending to be a superstar. Someone was taking furious pictures, 

“Oh oh! I’m gonna go show Iruma-cchi!” she jumps, “bye-bii!” But before she goes, she jumps on Soyo’s lap and hugs him, grinning widely and adorable. “Thanksies, Soyoyon!” 

Soyo stares, endeared. “You don’t have to try too hard to go out of your comfort zone,” he says. “Just smile like that, and have fun being yourself.” 

Clara blinks up at him, surprised. 

Soyo pats her on the head, “you’re cutest as you are, after all.” 

Clara’s face flushes bright red, and she instantly jumps off. “Wh-w- What, okay!” she says, unnecessarily loudly, “Clara will do that! Bye!” 

And then Clara leaves with a huff, confused on why her cheeks felt so warm. 

Soyo waves. 

Then he turns around and everyone in class is blushing as well, differing degrees of fascination and admiration across all of their eyes. 

“Soyo,” Sabnock says first, hand landing on his shoulder. “Good one there. She was so miserable until you showed up.”

“Uhh, yeah,” Soyo says. “It’s part of the job for me to make sad kids smile.”

“He’s not even aware!” Lied yells. “Emergency! Soyoyon’s an idiot! Emergency boys gathering, Soyoyon. Is. An idiot!” 

Jazz curls into himself, feigning agony. “I think my heart skipped a beat… stay strong! I’m not gay! Please, may my bi awakening not be Soyo of all people! Anyone except him!”

“You are very rude,” Soyo says. “Please let me see your eyes. I need to make sure you are lying. If you aren’t, I will bury you in the Diabotany fields.” 

“Soyo-kun please, you’re so terrifying, but you’re saying it with a straight face so I can’t take you seriously!” 

“Uhm, Soyo-kun, could you perhaps do my makeup too?” Elizabetta asks. “That looked very fun. It’s not something I’ve ever seen before.”

“Oh?” Soyo’s ears perk up. To be asked to do the makeup of the queen herself? What an honour! No, what pressure! What a horror! He’s very afraid. “If you don’t mind me then…”

Suddenly a very gripping hand on his shoulder makes him jump. 

She leaning forward, just a little, so Soyo can see over the top of her Detection-Warding glasses and right into Kerori’s eyes, they’re gleaming with the enthusiasm of a skeevy businessman who knows they’re in sight of something that will be a booming success in their industry. 

“...I’ll do it for you too, Kerorin. Please. Calm down. Calm down! You’re hurting me. Ow.”

Outside the room, Miss Raim is completely overemotional, on the brink of tears. 

“Can I—” 

“Absolutely not!” Vassago Veer hisses at her, earning a startled squeak as the succubus suddenly realizes he’s there. “You are not getting anywhere near him, Raim!” 

“Awwe,” Raim deflates, “but he’s got so much potential! I would know. My best student is Sivvi-chan, after all. But just look at him, he’s perfect material, I just want to take him and squeeze him into the perfect—” 

“Absolutely. Not . Don’t you dare!” Veer grabs her by the scruff. “You cannot have him.” 

“What’s he doing now? Decorative manicure? That is so cool!” Raim’s eyes sparkle, “I want some of that, too!” 

“For fuck’s sake, get back to the staffroom! I’ll do it!” 

“You’re so overprotective!” Raim whines. “You usually hate me because of my hair and absolutely refuse to ever talk to m— wait. You can do it too?”

Veer raises a brow. “Of course?” 

He liked all matters of dead cells, including hair, skin, horns, and nails. Of course, that means he’s also a major expert in cosmetic care for all of the above.

Shortly after that, Devildol Kuromu shows up on stage with artistic makeup, an ombre of purples and blues, flowers and snowflakes, dancing across her figure. 

It’s a big hit with the entire Netherworld, and soon enough, creative makeup becomes a sensational trend.

It’s the weekend, so Soyo’s home. 

Soyo sinks into his plushie paradise of a room, looking through the pictures of his classmates, all who’ve volunteered to be his test subject in practicing makeup. They had a photoshoot after the session, especially when Iruma and Asmodeus came back and whined about being left out. 

(Kalego yelled at them for loitering around after school hours.)

Beside him, a demonitor— the same demonitor that traveled with him through Cutthroat Valley and got dented a bit— pokes at some of the developed pictures. There’s one where they actually got Agares to pose with his eye mask off. 

“You’re going to frame them up?”

Soyo screams, his voice sharp and suppressed but loud nonetheless. 

He violently jerks away from his bed to see Dad laying there, looking through the pictures there with mild interest. “How nice, you’ve made so many friends.”

“...dad,” Soyo addresses, grabbing his tail, hugging it to himself, trying to suppress the way it’s fluffed up from being startled. “Don’t sneak up on me.”

“It’s okay, you’re the only one of my kids that doesn’t attack me on sight.”

“...yeah,” Soyo says. That’s only because Soyo always gets warned when he does. He sits back down, letting his father nuzzle into his side, planting a gentle kiss on his temple. “I didn’t expect you to be home.”

“I’ll be away soon.” 

“Hn.”

Soyo picks up the demonitor, setting it on his lap. The dent made it off the quality standards, which wasn’t ideal for Babyls’ use. So in lieu of letting it be discarded, Soyo stole it right out of the recycling bin and decided to keep it. 

“You’re naming it ‘Nikon’?” Dad asks. “What does that mean?”

“It’s a camera,” Soyo says. “it’s gotta be named Nikon. I had a Nikon camera in my last life too.”

“I see,” Dad dismisses, knowing he’s not getting a better explanation than that. He’s staring at a photo of Soyo and Iruma, one that Clara took before they were done, so Iruma looked embarrassed and Soyo was frowning at the camera due to the distraction. “Just take care of it, then.”

“I will.”

Soyo turns back briefly to the demonitor as it coos in his hands, snuggling up, trying to blend in with the rest of the plushies.

He turns back around and his father’s gone, without a click of the now-closed window, leaving only faint ruffles of the bedsheet on his way out. 

He took that picture with him. 

There are barely any footsteps before Vassago Van opens the door, harried and breathing harshly. “Wait, was dad just here?”

And that’s when Soyo remembers. His dad hasn’t been home in a whole year. 

“He just left.”

Van spins back around, shouting into his communicator. “Damn it, I lost him!” he yells, rushing back out. 

Soyo hops up to his bed in time to open the window, catching his brother on the way out the front door, hopping back into his shoes. “Will you be home for dinner?” 

“Yes, but don’t wait up!” Van hollers from outside. “Two of us!” 

“Okay,” Soyo says with a sigh. 

Soyo lives in school with the student council, and Veer lives with the faculty. Meanwhile, Van can’t come home often because he’s stationed at the border, and Sivvi is… well, she’s complicated. And Dad’s always loved traveling the world, so now that he has an excuse to not come home, he doesn’t.

Now their interactions are pretty limited to just a few phone calls, and sometimes they drop by for a situational update on each other, before running back out. 

It’s not a dysfunctional family or anything, it’s just different. Vassagos like to keep their distance, because they always learn too much about each other by just meeting. That’s why they liked to be away from each other, so when they reunite, they’ll be met with so many pleasant surprises about what each other have been up to.

Soyo likes it too. Sometimes, it’s a little lonely, though. The mansion’s quiet.

(But then he looks back at the pictures on his bed and the corners of his lips curl upward, unconsciously. Despite everything, he realizes it’s all fine.)

He reaches for the brace on the side of his bed. He straps his foot in, watching the little demonitor gather up all the pictures in a neat stack.

“So what do you want for dinner, Nikon?”

Chapter Text

Ami Kirio, upon the start of his enrolment in Babyls, was given three rules.

“Keep your room clean, don’t touch any women, and don’t meet Vassago Soyo,” his Ani-san had told him. 

Kirio had teased him. “You’re so cruel, you’re policing my pleasure habits?”

The concussion was worth it.

But he understood the warnings very quickly. Maybe too late. 

It had been a random whim, on some nondescript day, when he sat upon the hidden room and looked over the one-sided glass— only to find Vassago Soyo staring right at him, from the middle of the courtyard. 

It sent shivers down his spine. 

It’s impossible. It was easy to spot Soyo, since he’s wearing red among the sea of blue, their eyes couldn’t be meeting— this wall looks brick-lined from outside. 

Kirio can’t help the ecstatic smile growing on his face. 

“Can he sense something off about this wall? That is so interesting. I wanna kill him. I wanna kill him and see what he sees, I want it so bad.”

He doesn’t know for sure if Soyo truly saw him. 

But uncertainty is the core of excitement. 

“The Vassago family is such a thrill,” he sighs, entranced by that scrutinizing glare. “Any moment and I’ll ruin so many years of undercover work! Any moment now.”

Soyo is having a bad day. Nothing in particular was going wrong in his life or anything, it’s just that his leg hurt too much to properly get up, so Ameri gave him a day off. 

This wasn’t fair. 

“I’m going to kill someone,” Soyo says. He has gone back and forth from lying down to sitting down, and then whining while curling up under his covers, for the past couple minutes. Grave, who was getting ready for the day, just watched in amusement. 

“You sound like Smoke on her Evil Cycle,” Grave points out. “And her Moon Cycle too. My condolences.”

“I can start with you.”

“ Exactly like her,” Quichelight snaps his fingers, peeking into the room. “Uncanny!”

“Stop messing around,” Western pulls Quiche back from the door, “hurry up, Grave.”  

Today was Battler Recruitment Day, aka the infamous Rookie Hunt. Soyo can hear the countdown from the senior tower. It sounded like a haunting of tortured souls, drooling for their first taste of meat in years. 

Soyo sulks on his bed, and now he’s drooling because he’s hungry. 

The teachers were handling what little crowd control they’d enforce (which wasn’t much at all. This was a day for them to run wild and boil students in a pot for all they cared,) so the Student Council’s only job was to make an appearance and recruit freshmen of their own. So basically they just had to walk out there and look badass and that was done.

“I can go,” Soyo insists, glaring at his leg under the sheets. He’ll die of boredom if he stays here.

Grave stares skeptically at him. “Even though you looked like you were going through Labour Pains just now?”

“Why am I leveling up in the AFAB measurement of agony?” 

Grave ignores that question to walk over and pick up Soyo’s leg brace, to which Soyo whines. Thief . Grave bonks Soyo in the head with it and puts it by the dresser. 

“Just stay in. Good demons gotta know their limits,” he says, “as President Ameri would say— do everything with all your might! Additionally, if you have the opportunity to rest, rest with all your might!” 

And then he closes the door, plunging the room into darkness.

Soyo’s red eyes gleamed in the darkness. 

His leg is, to quote a cruder individual, aching like a motherfucker. He’s not even doing anything to it, the muscles just throb like a pulsing organ, and straightening is worse than bending it but bending it is agonizing, so he wants to straighten it. He hates everything about this. 

It’s not like he’s never been acquainted with chronic pain before. It just sucks. 

He sighs, burying his face into two or three of his little Sheep familiars that are all snoozing on his bed. They’re multiplying with each minute. He’ll be like a fountain of Aries Pixies if he goes out. 

…suddenly, he really wants to go out. 

If he stays in here, fungus will start sprouting from all this wool. 

“What should I do,” he turns to where Grave left his leg brace. He can’t go anywhere without that, and Grave knows that. “Grave has closed off my escape route.”

His wings sprout behind him. 

“...right.”

He pulls his hood over his head as he makes his way to the courtyard, which is much rowdier today for Division showcases. He pulls down his hood, leaning on a walking stick, taking in the sights. 

Feels like an anime convention.

Speaking of anime conventions…

Soyo turns up toward the school buildings, trying to find that one distinct wall that was featured in the following arc. He’s not sure if he finds it, but he’ll trust his instincts on this one. 

Soyo isn’t going to do anything. The incident at the Battler Festival, orchestrated by Ami Kirio and solved by Suzuki Iruma, is integral to future developments of whatever big thing is going to occur with the major antagonists of the series. 

Honestly, Soyo doesn’t know enough about this universe to even know what’s in store for this universe’s series of events. So he’ll just keep quiet, since if things go exactly like the anime, then clearly, they'll naturally get to the ending where Iruma becomes the demon lord, as shounen anime do. 

Soyo stares up at the secret viewing room that only looks like a brick wall from this angle. 

He’ll keep quiet. 

After all, what fun is there in the world if he told everyone everything?

“PLEASE join the Fluffy Fluff Rules Battler!” 

Soyo stares blankly at the girl that’s bowing a full ninety degrees. 

“Please!” she lifts her head, hands clasped together in a prayer, “please, oh devi, you are our hope! You and your familiar are the icons of Fluffy Fluff!” 

Soyo turns to his Sheep Familiar on this shoulder. There’s a soft, disinterested bleat.

“I can’t,” he says, earning a despaired wail. 

And then he walks away. Just two steps later another group is at his feet, bowing. “PLEASE join the Diabotany Battler! PLEASE! We will feed you forage stew!”  

“...I can’t,” is Soyo’s response again. 

They wail, crumbling in despair. Soyo subtly pulls up his hood, hoping to stay hidden. This is immediately foiled by Raim-sensei grabbing him by the shoulder. 

“I’ll make the exception just for you,” she says, full of hope, holding up the flyer for the Succubus Battler. “Please.”

“No thanks, Raim-sensei.”

Demons never ask, they never plead. But Soyo’s case is special— he’s already in another Battler from day one, so if they want him, they’ll have to either physically fight the Student Council for his hand, or convince him to leave the Student Council. It’s clear which one seems easier. 

Unfortunately, they underestimated him. 

Also, he just happens to be having a day where his aching leg puts him in a perpetually bad mood, so food won’t entice him today either. 

They all wail. 

“But your talents are of so much use in a place where your skills actually shine!” someone says. “The student council is a leadership Battler! Your passiveness doesn’t come into play there, you’re just being used as a pack mule there!” 

“You know it, don’t you! All you’re doing in the student council is running errands, because you’re strong! But that’s not your greatest point! Don’t you have your own interests you want to pursue?” 

Soyo hears that and wonders if this is a time he’s supposed to get offended.. 

He doesn’t, though, and he’s not sure why. Instead he turns to them and considers, in neutrality, what he could say in response. 

“I like red things,” he says. “Red, pretty, things that shine.”

Right now in Babyls, there is nothing he likes better than Ameri herself. 

Soyo crosses his brother Veer in the hallways of school. At least, he thinks he did. 

It was just a glimpse— a slight brush of the edge of his coat against Soyo’s side— but when Soyo straightens and turns, there is nothing around him but a crowd of nobodies.

He sulks, ears deflating. 

Veer’s going through so much effort to avoid Soyo that it’s getting ridiculous. He would be missing in the morning if the council comes to the staffroom for teacher reports, and he would magically be out of his assigned lecture hall when Soyo passes by. 

Seems like he’s not going to show himself, even during the Battler Festival. 

“What are you so upset about?” Lied asks. 

“I’m not upset,” Soyo says, curled into the corner of the classroom with two dozen sheep and three pillows, cheeks puffed up as he buries his face into his knees. 

He taps into his phone, glaring at his messages. 

VAN:

Won’t be coming to
The Battler Festival.

High-security case.
Can’t tell you much.

Van is part of Demon Border Patrol, just like Ameri’s father and Kalego’s brother. Which means that at this point in time they’re investigating allegations regarding Sullivan, something about illegal entry to the human world and alleged kidnapping. 

Yes, they are investigating Iruma’s existence but only halfway there. In the original story, they didn’t have solid evidence to make a solid judgment, but right now, the Vassago, the all-knowing dogs, exist. So physical proof shouldn’t ever be a necessity.

VAN:

Good question, my brother.
Allow me to ask you:

Did you know that we the Vassago
Are unjudgeable by the law?

Oh dear no, Soyo was not aware. That certainly explains why their father is who-knows-where even though he’s still by name, co-head of Border Control. 

The Vassago are the pioneers of the Netherworld Judiciary System. One might even say they played a huge part in the foundation of the Netherworld along with the Thirteen Kings— except, they couldn’t be arsed about the responsibility afterward, so they threw the job to everyone else and deigned to stay in the shadows, doing whatever the fuck they want for the rest of demonic history. 

Yes, their father is the spiritual inheritor of this ancestral laziness. 

SOYO:

So you are refusing to cooperate
With their investigations.

And they are just letting you?

VAN:

Yeah. What are they
Going to do, fire me?

SOYO:

I am genuinely impressed
This world hasn’t ended yet.

Iruma is carrying a bag labeled potassium nitrate and a bag labeled sulfur. They gathered around a bonfire, where Asmodeus seems to be burning wood to make charcoal.

Soyo has watched Dr Stone. He knows this is a terrible idea to put near children, and as a member of the Student Council it is unfortunately his job to make sure these morons have some self-preservation instincts left in them. 

“Are you making gunpowder? Why?” It didn’t naturally exist in this world, but the combination has occurred before. Demons just didn’t care much for it because they had magic and other materials, they didn’t need too much actual chemistry in their life. 

Iruma stares Soyo in the face in baffled silence. 

“...Soyo-kun, you can tell what I’m making from the ingredients alone?” 

“I’m more surprised that you know how to make that at all.” 

“I’m so sorry! Is it illegal?” 

“No. Even if it is, I am unjudgeable by the law so it’s okay.”

“That’s a relief, then! Oh, and I uh,” Iruma chuckles, “I had a part time job in a firework-production factory. So I know a bit. What about you, Soyo-kun?”

Soyo didn’t know where to begin with that. Iruma is fourteen. Underage working laws are supposed to exist in the human world, but turns out they don’t exist, both in this world and the other. Good to know. 

“Soyoyon, you know what Fireworks are?!” Clara is mortified. “This is bad! Our surprise isn't a surprise if people know what it is! We must silence this witness!” 

“Okay, throw it in with the pile,” Asmodeus says without missing a beat, eyes not leaving the charcoal he’s making. 

“Azz-kun?! Clara?!” Iruma yipes, startled by their nonchalant discussions of murder. 

Never a boring moment with these buffoons. Soyo can’t help the slight curve in his lips as he helps Iruma out with the firework engineering details. 

“I want some gunpowder when you’re done with it,” Soyo says. 

“Sure, if we have any leftovers,” Iruma says, “but why?”

“I want to make a gun one day.”

“Oh, I see— wait, you want a what?!”  

It is there, in that precise situation, where Ami Kirio chances upon Soyo. Kirio sees Soyo the second Soyo sees him— and they don’t quite know how to do much else but stare. 

“Ah, Kirio-senpai, this is my classmate, Soyo-kun,” Iruma introduces, trying to break the ice. 

Kirio’s brows furrow into a frown. Soyo’s gaze doesn’t leave him, staring blankly forward, even as Kirio tries hard to decipher, just what was so threatening about this child. Baal wouldn’t warn him against just anyone. 

Soyo steps forward, reaching up to Kirio— but the Barrier stops him, Soyo smacking right into the invisible wall with surprise, nose smashing into the glass with a whine. 

“Oh! My bad,” Kirio says, chuckling like a friendly neighbourhood grandma as he lowers the shield. “That just activates instinctively sometimes. I’ll put it down.”

Only when he’s feeling nervous. Oh dearie, he let his guard down. 

“I am Soyo,” the boy introduces himself. “Do you not like me, Kirio-senpai? You are wary around me.” 

Kirio pauses at that. He’s quite confident in his easygoing demeanor, so how did— ah, this child has quite the solid stoical outside face as well. 

“You are quite a perceptive one,” Kirio tells him. 

Soyo holds his nose, humming. “It is what the Vassago are known for,” he says. “By looking directly in your eyes, I can know what you’re thinking.”

Kirio smiles. “That’s very fascinating! What am I thinking now, then?”

Iruma, Asmodeus, and Clara look over with mild confusion. Soyo usually isn’t one to divulge so much information about himself easily, especially in regard to his bloodline magic. He hasn’t even mentioned how much he liked eyes today, that’s very unusual behavior.

But Soyo doesn’t falter, barely blinks, and his hands are in his pockets. 

“My dad told me before,” Soyo says. “Do not feel any sadness— for there is no need to despair. And from there, I have forgotten how those things felt. So I am sorry to disappoint you. It will be difficult for me to express any extreme emotion like that.”

It doesn’t register at first. 

Then Kirio realizes that Soyo does , unfortunately, know everything . He knows, from the moment their eyes meet— that Kirio is not right in the head. He even specifically mentioned despair, like he knew what Kirio loved to see the most. 

And Kirio is thrilled about it. He knew it. Oh, he knew it. And he didn’t even react with repulsion! Oh Kirio just knew Vassago Soyo would be such a delight to meet!

“I’m looking forward to learning more about you, Soyo-kun,” Kirio says. 

Soyo hums. “Your eyes are not pretty,” he says, not reaching out to take Kirio’s hand. “I don’t want to meet again. I hope you enjoy the fireworks.”

Kirio’s jaws drop. 

Iruma squeaks at that. “Wha— Soyo-kun, that is so rude, what do you think you’re saying to an upperclassman!” he lunges at him, hands on his shoulders. “Apologize, please!” 

Soyo doesn’t. 

Kirio smiles, enthused. “You’re so fun, Soyo-kun!” 

But Kirio can tell. It’s his first time formally meeting a Vassago, and he understands something is different about him. They’re archaically described as demons half a step away from origins, but only if they feel like it. They’re anomalies in the netherworld, anomalies in communities— their actions warrant the guidance of a government assigned partner in their daily activities, so clearly, they’re eccentric.  

Eccentric in the same way Kirio is. 

What exactly is their Bloodline Magic? And how far can it go? Which is the main part of the power, the information or the obsession?

Call it a hunch. But Kirio wonders how Soyo would look like, once he’s returned to origins like himself.

(He’d look right at home, wouldn’t he?)

“Acting Chair-demon,” Robin says, “have you seen Vassago-sensei anywhere?”

Kalego holds in the unsurmounted desire to grab that imbecile by the skull and crush it like a pear. “Do not call me that,” he says. “I am busy.” 

“Okay! But you didn’t answer the question though.”

“Silence, newbie. I do not participate in Vassago Hunts.”

Robin laughs. “Vassago Hunts! That’s a funny thing to call it. It’s very ironic, cause we’re always looking for the Vassagos and they never want to show up. So did you hear that one of them’s just straight-up refusing to show up to wherever they’re detaining the Chairdemon? I would love to have the balls to do that one day!” 

“You’re annoying!” Kalego doesn’t hold back this time, hand launching out to snatch his head and roughly swipe him aside. 

“I know!” Robin cheers, in a pile of broken boxes and documents, “I get that a lot!” 

“Then act on it, you menace!” 

Kalego sighs, pointing toward the couches of the lounge area of the teacher’s office. 

“Lay out a trap. Something shiny, whatever. He’ll show up eventually.”

“Ooh!” Robin jumps up, “a Naberius-approved Vassago capture tactic! I will consume this piece of wisdom with my very soul!” 

“Alternative, you can attempt to give yourself a bad haircut and he will show up immediately.”

“That is a tactic I hadn’t thought of before! That’s genius!”

And as Robin runs off to acquire scissors, Dantalion Dali sips on coffee beside Kalego, humming in consideration. “You look awfully happy. He’s not going to show up, is he?” 

“Oh he’ll show up,” Kalego holds back a chuckle, “he’ll also make you ever regret owning hair while he fixes it.” 

Later in the school dorms, Marbas would walk in to see Robin elaborately strung up around the hammocks in an incredibly uncomfortable position. Robin’s hair is styled into a luscious half-cropped style that is the furthest thing from his character, and he’s unconscious with his face stuck in a picture of frozen horror. 

Marbas marvels at the intricate work for a long hour before one of the other teachers has to tell him to help the poor sod down. 

Meanwhile, Ameri is going through a Vassago Hunt of her own. 

“He snuck out?!” she balks, midway through folding paper flowers for decorations to welcome new entrants to the Student Council. (Not that there are any, but she’s got dreams.) “Well if he’s feeling good enough to actually get out of bed that’s an improvement. Leave him.”

“Okay,” the entire student council agreed at once. And then they continue with their work, not missing a single beat in their workflow. 

And then Ameri realizes the problem. 

“Right! We don’t want a repeat of the entrance ceremony!” she yells. “He’s in a bad mood today, so expect him to be three times as needy today! All hands on deck, capture that puppy right now!” 

Soyo finds himself back in the divisions building, where everyone including his classmates were interacting with their divisions. 

“Ah, Soyoyon, wanna look?” 

“Ah, if it isn’t the Vassago younger brother,” Orias Oswell, the faculty member in charge, says. “We have carnival games on right now. Wanna throw a dart at the floating balloon targets? We only have one small prize, since this is just the new student scouting session—” 

He falls silent when a dart jet past his face, and a balloon behind him explodes. 

Lied claps, “woah, you’re good!” 

“You’re not even going to listen to my explanation?” Orias asks. 

Soyo is handed another three darts as the game continues. His eyes are fixed on the single prize laid on a pedestal— a small blue demon teddy bear, a branded product. Which meant it was definitely very soft. 

“I am getting the prize,” Soyo declares. 

“Wait, oh no,” Lied realizes, “we can’t actually let you win it!” 

“Okay, turn on hell mode,” Orias says, “we only have one of those things and we’re supposed to make it last the whole day— so turn on impossible mode, guys! Do whatever you can to prevent this child from getting it!” 

Soyo’s eyes shine with determination as the entire Battle scrambles to work, turning on fans and setting loose way too many balloons to hide the target balloon. Some were even physically getting in the way to jeopardize his aiming. 

Kimaris Quichelight, member of the Student Council, rushes into the Games Battler assigned classroom to find it looking completely ransacked. 

“...what happened? Actually never mind, don’t tell me,” he says.

“Oh, it’s the Student Council. Did you need anything?” the Club President lifts her head tiredly. “We’re not breaking any rules, are we?”

“Ah, no, not at all,” Quiche assures. “We just wanted to know if you’ve seen Vassago Soyo around today.”

And instantly the mood in the entire room crumbles, the temperature growing colder a couple degrees. 

“He was a nightmare!” someone screams. 

“Is it possible?! I don’t get that guy’s target skills, it’s so frustrating!” 

“How did he destroy ten balloons with one dart!” 

Quiche wants to cover his face in shame. Oh dear, they really shouldn’t have let him out of sight. Ameri did say he’s much more impulsive to get what he wants when he’s in a bad mood. “I’m so sorry! We should’ve kept a leash on that troublemaker—” 

He falls short when someone else yells, much louder than before. 

“Devi damn this! He better come back during the Battler Party so we can get our revenge!” 

“He is so fucking cool and for what? For a teddy bear!”

Quiche sighs longsufferingly. As expected from a school of demons, but this is going to be a terribly long day. 

Soyo has a feeling he’s going to really enjoy the Battler Party when it comes. Everyone’s preparing for it like some kind of early in the year cultural festival, and Soyo doesn’t have any school memories of an event like this as a human, so it’s all new to him. 

Though, the Student Council will be doing security detail on that day, so unfortunately he won’t get much time to play around, but this is fun enough. 

“Soyo-kun, nice seeing you around!” Caim Camui approaches him, holding up a sign that reads ‘Female Anatomy Research Division’ , “you appreciate beautiful, voluptuous round objects, just like I. Would you spare a moment to talk about our devil and savior, the existence of women?”

Soyo takes a hyper realistic stick of eyeball-shaped dango from the paper plate in his hands, (it was a product of the Creative Deception Battler or something,) and he puts the whole thing in his mouth and starts chewing.

Stick and all. Remaining eye contact with Camui the entire time. 

“Speaking of anatomy research…” Soyo says, “do you think women's eyeballs taste different from men's eyeballs? Are there any differences between normal demons and beastly demons, and their eyeballs as well? Do your eyeballs taste delicious? Also, do wolves eat owls?” 

Camui stares, sees his life flash, and then bows very lowly. 

“Deeply apologize for disturbing you on your walk, good sir.” 

And then he runs. 

Soyo licks his finger. “Shame. I kinda wanted to know the answer. Maybe I’ll ask Allocer.”

He turns around to find the Beastdemon Circus Battler right beside him. 

“...actually, let’s just go ask.”

“What do you mean, he came in here and threatened to gouge out everyone’s eyeballs?!” Johnny Western, another member of the Student Council, exclaims in disbelief. “Soyo is at least half your size, all of you!” 

“Yeah but that’s enough to traumatize us all,” the President says. “That demon is small but he can climb .” 

“Okay,” Western takes a deep breath to compose himself, “where did he get a knife? Let’s start from there.” 

“He didn’t. He came at us with skewer sticks.”

“Devi below, is my underclassman a horror movie antagonist?!”

The siege of the Soyo continued for the rest of the day. The Student Council was consistently always half a step behind him.

Chapter Text

The day of the Battler Party Eve is lively, just as expected.  

The tremor shakes Soyo right off his feet, and the road before him is shorned off by an invisible barrier wall. 

“Soyo! Soyo, tune in right now!” Ameri’s voice crinkles through the walkie on his waist. They decided to use that during the festival. 

“Yes?” Soyo holds it up. 

“The Student Council will be following the lead of the teachers, but you’ll be separate,” Ameri says. Around her there’s the loud crinkle of Grave calling for help in picking up fallen structures. “Find out what’s going on.” 

Soyo hums, “that would be difficult.”

“What. Why?”

“Because,” Soyo puts a hand on the wall before him, tracing it to the side until he finds a corner, and continues to trace it in its quadrilateral shape. “The barriers. I’m boxed in.”

Kirio’s smart. His ability to intricately customize this labyrinthine structure he’s made— that’s a vital skill that he’s using to its full potential. He identified Soyo to be the biggest threat to his plan, so he’s restricting him. 

“There’s barely enough space for me to stand. I won’t be able to break out myself,” Soyo says, laying a hand on the top piece. Are these things airtight, or…? Well, it should be fine. Soyo won’t be in here long enough for air consumption to be a problem.

Ameri curses under her breath. There’s a switch of hands, and the voice that speaks surprises him. 

“Hey, Soyo. Where’s your location?” 

It’s Veer. 

“Northeast of the bell,” Soyo says. “On the roof.”

“Good. Stay there.”

The walkie-talkie clicks right off, and Soyo is left disconnected. Veer didn’t ask for anything— not even a hint. And among Vassagos, that meant something very clear— this is my case, and you stay out of it.

Soyo wonders if he could dial back. Tell them what he knows about Ami Kirio, about the secret room, about the plot to gather the whole school in the courtyard and blow it up at countdown. 

But Veer wanted to figure it out himself. 

So Soyo summons his little Aries Pixie to keep him company, and simply waits. He takes out his phone and excitedly texts Van, telling him of how he’s managed to talk to Veer for the first time in years to months.

“Hey, what’s that about?” Ameri turns on the teacher. 

Veer sighs, handing her back the device before swiping a hand through his hair, taking a moment to deeply think. Then he steps forward, setting a hand on Ameri’s head. Seeing as Ameri’s taller than him, it comes as a surprise to the girl. 

“You kids focus on crowd control. Let the adults handle the investigations.”

He walks off. 

Ameri is left dumbfounded, as he contacts Kalego in an earpiece, and proceeds to slowly meander his way through the invisible halls. 

A demon looks up when Veer puts a hand on their head, and a girl squeaks when their hair is touched in passing. Veer doesn’t stay in their sights long enough for them to identify the perpetrator. The second they turn around in surprise, Veer has found the rest of the road forward, and he’s well on his way out. 

Ameri frowns. “That’s harassment, sir,” she only softly tells herself. She already knows that’s the degree of casual intimacy you need to be prepared for when it comes to the Vassagos, and this is a necessary step for efficiency, so she’ll overlook it. 

She’ll be talking to Kalego later, though. 

“Some of the walls are changing in real time,” Veer says, into the earpiece. “If I go the opposite direction of the students, a new wall stops me.”

“So they’re telling you to follow the crowd to the courtyard?” That’s… Dali, if he’s right. 

“I suppose this means it’s a trap,” Orias says. “But gathering the students is as beneficial to us as it is for the culprit, so I suggest we leave it.”

“Anything on the student records?” Veer adds. 

“No, but— ah, yes, we do!” Suzy chirps up, “I'm bringing the file to Kalego-kun now. A second-year, his name’s Ami Kirio…” 

“Ami… Kirio…” Veer’s brows furrow.  

“He’s in the—” 

“Magical Apparatus Battler, so first floor, furthest East corner,” Veer says, changing roads. “Heading over now.” 

“How did you even know that?”

“Oh, Miss Ameri had the information of all Babyls students in her head,” Veer explains. “She specifically looked into Ami Kirio recently because he’s the Battler President of this guy she has a crush on— wait, forget I said that.”

“President Ameri has a what?” Dali repeats. 

“She has a what?!” Suzy sounds very excited. 

“Silence! No gossiping about students over the main communication line!” Kalego snaps. “Veer, if you find anything in the Battler room, call back immediately.”

“Sure. Will do.”

And Veer doesn’t, in fact, do. 

The Magical Apparatus Battle is an organized mess. The room is clean, not a speck of hair or dust despite the array of objects across it. There are sleepover clothes and futon, but they’re all dusted and sunned. 

Not a strand of hair to be found. 

“Well, he sure cleans his room thoroughly.”

But that also means there’s been an information leak somewhere. No student would clean this thoroughly in such a busy part of the season, much less if they’re busy preparing for the Party down to the wire. 

In addition to that, Soyo specifically has been trapped. Someone must have warned Kirio about the Vassago family.

Alas, the only Vassago currently motivated to work was Veer, and this is where he hits a dead end. Damn this, he put in the effort only to get here.

“Hey, Dad?”

It was just an attempt, so he didn’t expect any response. 

“What do you want, my dear son?” 

Veer sharply swings a foot around, but his heel is caught. He clicks his tongue. “How did you even get all the way in here? Babyls is sealed off!” 

“Well, of course, it’s because I already knew this was going to happen, so I snuck in early,” Father says. “How have you been! It’s been ages since I’ve seen you.”

“I am not entertaining casual conversation— or kisses— fuck off!” Veer physically retaliates when his father reaches out. “You know what’s going on, don’t you? Who’s behind this? They took the Chairdemon away and planned all this in advance, and they even have tactics to get around us.”

“I could tell you, but where’s the fun in that.”

“Excuse you?!”

“Well, to quote yourself…” Father says. “Leave it to the adults, won’t you? Your jurisdiction is Babyls. Leave the political matters to us stationed at the Border.”

“Neither of you ever do your work! You just run and disappear so you can laze about touring the world or something!” 

“Exactly!” Father beams, raising a thumbs up. “You see Veer. Consistently taking vacations is, in itself, the work of a Vassago.”

“You’re really not making yourself useful here, dad!” 

Soyo hums. He’s buried up to his waist in Aries pixies, since there’s so little space in his little Barrier Box. 

Veer’s facing away from him. 

Soyo tries not to look disappointed. And by ‘try’ he means absolutely sparing no effort and plastering his face to the glass, acting as miffed as possible because his brother wouldn’t look this way excuse me I am currently eye-deprived, let me see those rubies thank you, hello, look at me, to no avail.

“...and that’s how it is,” Veer says. “Watch yourself, got it? Especially if you’re going to be involved so closely with Iruma. There are eyes on him.”

“It’s okay, I like eyes.”

“That’s not what I— oh, screw this.” 

The countdown to the bell is starting. Iruma has less than thirty seconds to fix everything for the teachers that couldn’t find Ami Kirio in time. 

Soyo blinks, and then, there’s a web of strings around him, wrapping around the barriers tightly. Veer flexes his fingers, and the box splices , falling into pieces. 

Veer retracts his threads. 

“There, you’re out,” Veer says. “Make your own way back to the courtyard.”

“Veer,” Soyo speaks up, and Veer pauses to let him speak. “What does it mean for a demon to return to origins?”

Veer falls silent. 

Soyo looks away. “Kirio-senpai did that. He’s in a group that wants more people like that… and he thinks I’m. We’re , close to it. But I’m not too sure what exactly that means for our family.”

All demons with great potential are close to origins, especially in regard to their Evil Cycle. The canon material even mentions how the Thirteen Misfits are in that vein, too.

But what exactly did it mean, and why is there a separation? Honestly— other than to depict the morality that’s very blurred in the Netherworld, Soyo doesn’t fully understand it. Perhaps he’s just ignorant, but that’s why he’s asking. 

“Returned to origins?” Veer considers the phrase. “Hell if I know.”

Soyo sighs. No luck here, then. 

“I don’t understand it, nor do I try to,” Veer says. “That’s the difference between me and you, and the rest of the family. Do you know what they call the Vassago?”

(The demons with half a foot in the origins, but only if they feel like it.)

“Keep your muzzle on, brat,” Veer says. “Unless you want to end up like Mother.”

Huh?  

The firework, larger than life, goes up into the sky— and then Sullivan swoops in, clearing the rubble. The bell tolls, and the entire courtyard blows up with noise. 

They part ways, turning in opposite directions before leaving. 

When Soyo peeks over, mid-run, he sees the almost translucent shade of red in Veer’s eyes, lined by a subtle sag of exhaustion. 

( Like Mother, Veer says.)

(But they don’t have one.)

( Muzzle, Veer says.)

(What would that mean for Soyo?)

Ami Kirio is captured by the teachers, and after a short questioning by Sullivan and the rest of the teachers, he is taken away to wherever his trial will decide his next fate. 

“So you didn’t find anything? That’s anticlimactic,” Kalego says. “But it doesn't matter. Now that you’ve returned, don’t run around.”

Veer yawns. “I’m going to disappear.”

And he did. 

“Wait— agh!” Kalego doesn’t even get half a moment to understand what’s gone on before Veer just isn’t there anymore, and the other teachers are marveling at the sight. 

“That was the most I’ve ever seen him!” Suzy says. “Would be better if he weren’t wearing the Detection-warding hood, though.”

“He really does step up when the situation calls for it, doesn’t he?” Marbas sighs fondly. “It’s always tough to get the Vassago working for you. The assurance of having one at your beck and call… I’m envious.”

“I do not have him at my beck and call,” Kalego grinds his teeth in annoyance. “I just know how to turn his mood in my direction.” 

“Oh? And what did the trick this time?”

“Hell if I know,” Kalego says. It was probably Soyo, but he’s not going to release that information.

The Battler Party was back to life the next day. Everyone stayed up all night to fix everything, and the festival began swimmingly. 

The school dismissed all the problems easily. So who cared if the explosion nearly killed all of them, if Sullivan hadn’t saved them? So what if there was a major inconvenience regarding the destruction of so many stalls in the initial tremor? Demons loved chaos, and they loved thrills. They didn’t care what happened if things were fun. 

“Why is it different?” Soyo wonders to himself. He’s still hung up on the origins concept. “Kirio-senpai is just having fun too, isn’t he? But even in this netherworld, he is not socially acceptable.”

He was a demonic, crazy bastard in all the worst ways— according to the general public. 

But all demons are like that.

Where is the line? Soyo doesn’t know. If he ever crosses the line, will he be accepted? It’s a bet he’s not sure he wants to take.

Soyo doesn’t expect his family to show up, but he finds one of them doing a tour around the Party. 

“Awh… not even a little hint for me?”

“N- No, ma’am! You’ll have to guess, just like everyone else.”

Vassago Sivvi. Light gray hair in a bob, a baggy hoodie over short-shorts— he only recognized her as he spotted the red collar around her neck. She’s caressing the stallkeeper’s hand, trying to seduce her way through a lucky draw game that is clearly doctored to not be won. 

It’s been very long since he’s seen her. They don’t get to meet very often, since she’s in the very separate high school division that doesn’t have many coinciding activities. 

“Ooh! I got the jackpot!”

“What the— woah! What a shame for me! Congrats, lady!” 

That’s cheating. You can’t steal the information from his head and then win the grand prize like that. That’s like, morally reprehensible or something—

Soyo’s train of thought stops when he sees what prize Sivvi has won.

A gigantic rabbit plushie that’s taller than her. She sighs. “Awh, this is the prize? I’d much rather have the custom battle axe over there… oh! Soyo-chan!” 

“I want!” Soyo says, before the words go through his brain filter. 

“Sure! Sure, of course! You can have it,” she sings happily, blooming with happiness. “Wanna follow me around the festival? Big sis will get you everything you want!” she beckons him closer, swooning at the sight of him. “One condition though! Tell me you love me!” 

“I love you, big sis!” 

From the windows of the staffroom, Veer sees Soyo haul around a huge plushie, trailing after Sivvi like a duckling. 

He draws the curtains. “That’s not my problem.”

Kalego stares at him skeptically. 

Veer turns around, “you’re not allowed to judge. Opera-san is down there too and I don’t see you trying to stop them.”

Kalego wisely turns his attention back to the paperwork on his desk.

Sivvi holds Soyo’s hand. She’s shorter than him, but she leads him around like Soyo’s fourteen years younger rather than four.

And Soyo enjoys the attention. No one else in the family would spoil him like this, and as the youngest child, he is enjoying the hell out of this privilege.

“Is that so? Then, Onee-chan will spoil you as much as you want!” 

Vassago Sivvi is not what people expect from this family. Soyo is stoical, Veer is unsociable, and Van is quiet and strict. The Vassago family strike fear in one way or another, so no one expects Sivvi to be a ball of cheer, the ace of the Succubus battler High School Division, and an adoring big sister. 

Well, that’s not the part of Sivvi that is terrifying, at least. 

Someone bumps into Soyo’s huge plush toy, spilling the tower of ice cream they’ve been holding all over the fake pink fur. 

“Hey, can you fucking watch where you’re carrying that huge thin—” 

Suddenly, everyone stops being able to breathe. Silence falls over the entire lane of people that have realized what’s happened— and while the guy looks up, confused, there’s a distinct series of cracks running through his arm. 

And then, the screaming. 

“Wha is— no- ah, my— AAAAAH, MY ARMS!” 

His hands are frozen in pain, his wrists slowly caving in, section by section, purpling a dangerous bruise of internal damage. 

Sivvi sighs, turning around. 

“Oh dear,” she says. “When you bump into someone and dirty their property, it’s best to apologize, don’t you know?”

She isn’t smiling. 

“I finally get the chance to meet my baby brother dearest,” she says, stepping closer, and Soyo braces himself for the extra crunch through the man’s wrist before he screams louder, “are you going to ruin that for me?” 

“I’m SORRY!” the man screams, “I AM SORRY!” 

And the pressure of the invisible hands release. 

Sivvi beams. “Okay, then!” she turns back toward Soyo, “let’s go back to touring, Soyo-chan!” 

“What the— hold on!” a teacher, clearly new to the work, calls out, “what do you think you’re doing! You went too far!” 

“Wait, that’s a Vassago!” another teacher hisses, holding them back. 

The teachers bow, and quickly tend to the man that was hurt. Sivvi is allowed to walk free with barely a hard look as a repercussion. She hooks an arm around Soyo’s, and leads him back into the festival. 

Soyo sighs. 

Vassago are unjudgeable by the law. 

Sivvi, specifically, can absolutely do no wrong in life. She is the ambassador of all things good, the determinant of right and wrong. That is her role as the one with the greatest amount of magic and talent amongst the family that commands all understanding. 

Predictably, Van and Veer avoid her, but Soyo does all he can to be on her good side. She just isn’t someone anyone should try to debate with.

“No more violence,” Soyo says. “No bloodbaths.”

“Awh,” Sivvi pats him on the head, taking his hand and swinging it wildly as they walked. “Okay, no bloodbaths then.” 

Sivvi’s eyes are filled with dishonesty. She craves something further than moralities can offer her, and while she treads the line between demonic qualities and pure monstrosity, she isn’t afraid to wander, and yet again she’s fully aware of her limits. 

She does her duty as a pioneer of judgment. But she does so reluctantly, with smiles that sing bitter and sour, and eyes that shine with a placating lie. She speaks to all as if she spoke to children who know no better, condescending and mockingly patient. 

Soyo can see all of that. It’s inevitable, but it disgusts him. Sivvi’s eyes are the most disgusting sight he’s ever been subjected to. 

(There’s a reason why Father kept her away from him from young, and it was truly for both of their sakes.)

Sivvi is fully aware that Soyo dislikes her to the most fundamental level. The feeling’s mutual. Soyo defied the world to his core, and from young, he’s been nothing but the epitome of what should not exist in the demon world. He is the kind of creature Sivvi is meant to subject to trial and persecution. To erase. 

And yet, he holds her hand firmly and she looks into his eyes with a dear persistence, and they make their way through the festival without ever letting those feelings interfere with what they can do for each other. 

Like bitter drinks and fermented foods, perhaps, this is an acquired taste. 

“Ooh, Soyoyon! Who’s that?” Lied waves, greeting him from the Games Battler booth. 

“My big sis,” Soyo says. 

Sivvi reaches over and captures Lied’s hand in hers. “So you’re Soyo-chan’s friend? You’re a Shax! What a coincidence, I know a Shax– awh, but Shakky overslept today, didn’t she? Shame she won't be here. Nice to meet you, I’m Sivvi!” 

Lied’s brain goes from a what-who-why to complete overload in seconds when he realizes a cute girl is holding his hand. 

“B- I uh! Nice to meet you too!” 

Soyo thinks he shouldn’t tell Lied that Sivvi reads people’s information through skin contact. He would probably die inside. Also Soyo is going to make sure Camui never gets the chance to try touching Sivvi’s hand. His sister would disintegrate that owl in half a second after skinning him alive. 

“Speaking of!” Lied changes the subject, “we’re doing a VR thing, but everyone wants to get revenge on you for Recruitment Day, so this entire row of carnival games down this street are Games Battler folks waiting on ya.”

Soyo’s eyes gleam with excitement. 

Carnival games!

“Do we have shooting galleries?” Soyo asks. 

“Oh, those things are a new concept, I’m surprised you know them,” Lied says. “We don’t yet, sorry. Couldn’t get clearance in time, apparently.”

Soyo sulks. Sivvi laughs. “That’s okay! Papa’s working on it.”

“Dad is?”

“Yeah!”

Soyo frowns, confused. Isn’t that illegal? There are some very strict rules about taking elements from the human world and assimilating it into the Netherworld, that’s literally why Sullivan’s detained at the moment. 

Sivvi giggles, winking at him, a silent reminder that she can legally do no wrong in the vision of the Netherworld. 

Soyo is mildly terrified. But he’s very pleased that this nonsense is working to his benefit. 

“Then,” Soyo tugs his gigantic bunny toy, “I’m going to play. Onee-chan, if you see anything you want, tell me.”

“Awh! No, I’m supposed to be the one spoiling you, Soyo-chan!” 

Lied watches them interact and smiles, endeared by the wholesome interactions of a picture-perfect pair of siblings. He’s a little envious. 

Then reality sinks in. 

“Wait! Please hold back! Please don’t take all the good prizes!” 

(It ended up being daylight robbery.)

Iruma’s group finds them as Soyo hauls a cartful of teddies and Sivvi clusters an armful of lethal weaponry in her arms like a schoolgirl would a bunch of popcorn. 

“You’re Soyo-chan’s friend? Nice to meet you, I’m his big sis, Sivvi!” 

Asmodeus returns the greeting with a polite bow, “it is an honour to meet you, miss.” Out of obligation more than anything else. His composure immediately shatters as he realizes Clara has jumped into the pile of plushies to swim in it.

Iruma has no idea where to even look. At the toys? At the weapons? At their faces? “N- Nice to meet you, miss! Uh! What is all this?!”

“Onee-chan won it all for me,” Soyo says. 

At the same time, Sivvi swoons, “my baby brother won all this for me! I’m so stumped! I don’t even have a hand to extend anymore.”

“That’s great. Don’t touch anyone. Especially not Iruma.”

“Awww! Are you jealous that other people are getting attention from me too, Soyo-chan?”

“Yes. Please stop fondling everyone’s hands, Sivvi.”

“I can’t! You know I’ll die if I don’t get my fill!” 

Asmodeus has a hand holding Clara back from diving into the plushies. “Uhm… you two are a very intimate pair of siblings,” he says, for lack of another method of phrasing. Almost too intimate, he doesn’t want to vocalize. It’d be hypocritical, since his mother is also a very intimate person. 

“Isn’t that fine?” Iruma chuckles. “Isn’t it natural to want to keep your loved ones close?”

That statement earns Iruma a synchronous pat on the head from both Vassagos present. Irumas very flustered and confused, but he accepts the affection. 

“Hey, Sivvi,” Soyo calls, hugging just one rabbit toy to his chest. They’ve put away everything else at home or in their dorms. “What does it mean to return to origins?”

Sivvi licks her fingers, swiping away some takoyaki sauce from her cheek. 

“Returning to origins… hmm,” she swings her feet. “Dunno!” 

Soyo didn’t expect to get an answer from her either, but it disappoints him all the same. 

“I think I’m close, though,” Sivvi says. “In this family, we’re always close. That’s why Papa gives us rules. And we have to obey them, even if we don’t understand them.” 

Sivvi’s rule is to only meet Soyo once every year.

“The Vassago are supposed to understand everything,” she says. “So if there’s anything we don’t understand— it means the knowledge of it puts us at risk. If we ever understand the origins, we’ll be at the threat of succumbing to it completely. So we cannot be allowed to understand it, no matter what.” 

But they still try anyways, because it’s in their nature. They dive headfirst into their inevitable ruin, having fun with it. It’s insanity. It’s their nature, as demons. 

She stands up and pats the dust off herself. 

“Is that it? I’ll be going, then,” she says, spinning around to send one last smile. “See you next year, Soyo-chan.”

Soyo nods. “Bye bye,” with a wave. 

There are many things Soyo doesn’t understand in this world. That’s by design. But if there’s something that stands out to him, it would be the Vassago family itself. 

If there’s anything all of the Vassago family are collectively incapable of understanding, it would be each other. But even then, they make a game of learning new things about each other. They make a game of finding new, vulnerable holes in each other. That is their way of bonding as siblings.

If there’s any exception to that, it would be Father himself. 

Soyo doesn’t understand Father. He can look into those eyes as many times as he wants, but he’ll never look far enough to reach a point where he begins to understand that endless void. It’s imperceptible. 

Not because Soyo is lacking— Soyo is simply incapable of understanding Father or any decisions he makes. None of the Vassago are capable of that, and that’s why they obey his rules without question. It’s simply instinct in the family hierarchy. 

Maybe they’ve all been ordered to not understand him. 

(“If there’s anything we don’t understand— it means the knowledge of it puts us at risk.”)

Maybe Soyo’s craving for more information will inevitably lead to his downfall, but he can’t help it. The Vassagos are born with an endless craving for knowledge, and Soyo can’t help but salivate at the thought.

Chapter Text

“Eh? Me?”

“Yes, you,” Ameri says, the Student Council behind her. “You’re on leash for the next two days. You’re not allowed anywhere without supervision.”

Soyo is crushed, ears deflating miserably. “But I was a good boy?”

Quiche chuckles, patting him on the head. “Yes, yes, you were. Abnormally so during the Battler Party, honestly,” he says, “we’re not punishing you or anything.”

“You’re spoiling him,” Johnny Western says, when Smoke comes by with a lollipop to cheer Soyo up. “All of you. Seriously.”

“But Western, it’s so rare we get a junior to pamper,” Quiche argues, moving from patting to just straight up hugging and smothering, “we’re not even on duty now. It’s okay, right?”

“Quite the opposite,” Ameri says, “it’s not that it’s okay to spoil him because we’re off duty; It’s okay to spoil him when we’re off duty because that is his purpose here .”

“It is?!” Western is mortified. 

At the permission, Soyo is engulfed by two and a half hugs, hands reaching for his ears and tail as he’s distracted by the lollipop. 

But he has not forgotten the sacrilege just yet. 

“But I was a good boy, why am I on a leash?” Soyo whines. 

“It’s that time of the year for you,” Ameri explains, picking up a stack of papers. “I’m talking about Wicked Cycles, you know.” 

Soyo doesn’t have them frequently. Everyone’s different, and some people have more restraint than others, but it generally isn’t healthy to hold yourself back for long. 

As for Soyo… he honestly isn’t sure. 

He doesn’t really remember the last time he had one— every once in a while Ameri puts him on surveillance, but he never ends up waking to an Evil streak, and they naturally transition back to their daily routine soon after. 

(Well, it doesn’t really matter. Ameri’s always handled it just fine.)

“Ah, Soyoyon! Grab a lightstick and join us!” 

Soyo walks into the Misfits classroom to see the crew doing the Wotagei Light Dance before a projector of Akudol Kuromu’s current live show. Jazz holds a lightstick in his direction and he beams, excited. 

“Come on! We’ll teach you the moves!” 

Let this be your arbitrary reminder that Soyo was once a 2D-otaku and hikiNEET gamer and absolutely degenerate of human society. And in his past life he was also deprived of full mobility, and thus was never able to participate in these. 

So clearly, he is a very normal amount of enthused about this. 

Very normal. 

“YEAH! YEAH! YEAH! YEAH!” 

There’s currently a rave party happening in the Misfits classroom, but they’re in a very isolated part of the school premises, so the entirety of the school board have collectively decided to pretend that isn’t happening. 

Kimaris Quichelight, currently off-duty Student Council member with a babyface and currently with the duty of watching Soyo, is sitting in the corner of that classroom also enjoying himself at the rave for Kuromu. 

“Soyoyon, why are you so good at this?!” 

“Soyoyon! Emergency at Makubari Dome, get here in three seconds!” 

IRUMA:

Could we trouble you to bring
makeup supplies?

And no,
please don't ask questions.

The phonecall came from Iruma’s phone, but somehow, the voice that yelled orders at him was Clara, and the one that offered an explanatory follow-up text was Asmodeus. 

Either way, Soyo had a feeling something super interesting was happening, so he excused himself from the class sleepover and flew over as soon as possible, ditching Quichelight before the guy noticed. He’ll probably get in trouble, but it’s okay. Soyo will pray for him.

Oh right, there was this event .

Kerori’s fallen sick from overusing her magic, so now, Iruma and his crew have to dress up as idols and take the opening act and buy some time. 

Soyo sighs. Not miserably, just in internal conflict. He’ll probably go home, or back to school, back to a lane of firepit and spike traps again. Veer is still very unforgiving when it comes to anything that has to do with Soyo helping Kuromu make a big killing in her industry. This will most certainly make it skyrocket. Her career and his physical being into the stratosphere, both. 

…is it environmentally-friendly for his brother to set him on fire? Is Soyo considered burnable or unburnable trash? 

“Ah, Vassago-kun!” Manager Mar approaches him, taking his hand gratefully. “I’m so glad you made it. Please help us out! These girls are looking like disasters!” 

These girls?

Soyo stares at Iruma, Asmodeus, and Clara, all of which are decked up in childish idol dresses and one of which is way too enthusiastic to appeal to even the weirdo-cute category of idol chasers. 

Well, whatever. 

Also, that dress looks familiar. It looks like something he made when he was younger, that one of his family members snatched off and sold the design to the Netherworld internet for pocket money a long time ago. Did Clara copy it?

“Sit down,” he says, realizing his job here is to fix these pretty ones up from a mediocre to a star and he doesn’t have time, “Clarin can do the hairstyles, Azz-Azz can fix the dresses and accessories, and Iruma… uh. I don’t know, look at the dance routine or something. I’ll do the makeup.”

“Why are you so reliable??” Iruma has no idea why Soyo’s just acting like this is a normal sight. “Is this in your job description?”

“Can you at least say something about finding out your classmates are crossdressing on national television!” Asmodeus snaps, exasperated. 

“Soyoyon, do you wanna join us too?” Clara asks.

“No, thank you,” Soyo says, “to like… all of the above statements. Also, do any of you know how to become fireproof?”

“What are you doing, Soyo?” 

It’s a very common greeting between Soyo and Ameri. One had to wonder if they were work associates, siblings, partners, or just a tired pet and its owner at some points. 

Ameri just happened to be at the Makubari Dome at the end of the day too, and so, Soyo avoided the purge of the Veer’s vengeance, but she sure as hell subjected Soyo to all sorts of confusing panic. 

(“Soyo I— I saw a girl that was— she was super cute but— you’ll have to look at her to understand! I swear! That’s— that was!! Irumaaaa?!? Was it Iruma?! No, it couldn’t have been, it was so out of character but it was also just— I don’t get it???”)

(And then Ameri, in her flustered clumsiness and bumbling restless hyperactivity, upturns makeup and fabric and sends stray magic frizzling all around, creating an absolute mess.)

(It takes her a very long time to calm down, but at least they’re both in the student council room surrounded by Soyo’s carnival plush toys, Aries Pixies, and pillows, and Ameri is fixing Soyo’s hair and tail fur for him.)

“You can’t keep doing this, you know, Soyo,” Ameri warns, brushing away the clumps of powder and confetti in his hair. “I can’t always be here for you. I don’t think you want to be stuck with me perpetually, either, right?”

Why not? Soyo doesn’t vocalize the question. 

He already knows the answer. 

They’re partners, but one day, they’re going to move on. Their relationship is familial, but ultimately business-centric. Soyo might go independent, just like his father, or Ameri might move on and find a significant other that she actually wants to spend the rest of her life with, and Soyo will be transferred to a new partner. They might continue to work together, but they will eventually have to set boundaries to build their own families a healthy distance away from each other. 

There was no telling what could happen, but they both knew that this mutually dependent relationship wasn’t something that would continue to the end of their life. 

“Ameri,” Soyo sighs, leaning in her lap, sulking. He’s tired. “You like Iruma, right?” 

“Eh?” Ameri blinks, genuinely confused. “I suppose I am uniquely interested in him. He is a human, after all, and you understand my intrigue… there isn’t anyone in Babyls that isn’t eager to see Iruma’s next move.”

Soyo looks up, to Ameri looking down at him.

Those eyes are for real. She still hasn’t realized her feelings for him are romantic yet. 

Alright, fine. 

“One day, we’ll all have to grow up,” Soyo says. 

Ameri’s already begun to travel on the path of love, setting the yellow bricks along the path toward her future. Soyo is afraid of that. He dwells in one place, afraid of stepping out— he stagnates, by choice, and by fear. He’s spent so much of his old life being condemned for growing too quickly, and then forgetting how to grow completely, that his very soul refuses to attempt such an endeavour ever again.

“But for now…” Soyo reaches up, cradling Ameri’s face in one hand. “Just for now. I want to be here with you.”

Ameri giggles at that. 

“You’re so spoiled, Soyo,” she says, her fingers cupping Soyo’s cheeks, curling around his chin as she allows him to lay in her lap. “Well, we have the next day off. So I suppose you can stay like this a little longer.”

And so, they do. 

Soyo’s never been able to see Ameri romantically, and thus, he’s painfully aware that she, who lives in the world of romantic desires, will never belong to him. 

It’s like Kuromu, to her fans. 

They worship her, and she responds in kind— and yet, everyone acknowledges the barrier between them. They are all aware of the sheer impossibility of a genuine bond between them and the figure of their adoration. They realize that the star they reach for is ultimately unattainable from where they stand, and perhaps, that’s the charm.

Similarly, one day, Soyo will have to give up on Ameri. 

But today is not that day, and thus, he will continue to dream just a little longer. 

Vassago is mentioned in the Book of the Office of Spirits as Usagoo, appearing as an angel, "just and true in all his doings," with the powers of inciting the love of women and revealing hidden treasures, in addition to ruling twenty spirits.

Soyo wakes up with a yawn. 

The philosophy of the Vassagos in the Book of Goetia… maybe it wasn’t too far from the truth? He’s not too sure. It’s not really relevant to him, he’s just doing whatever comes naturally to him. 

He stretches out with a sigh. The classroom is filled with chatter, mainly of the mysterious three idol girls that showed up on Kuromu’s opening performance. Seems they’ve realized Soyo was definitely there to do the makeup and they’re all theorizing about it. 

“What’s wrong, Soyo-kun?” Iruma asks, “you look tired. More than usual.”

Iruma’s cobalt blue eyes are filled with genuine concern. What a kind boy. 

“Nothing,” he says, reaching up to cradle those soft cheeks, so he could get a better look into those eyes. “You were really funny on stage. How did you make your voice sound like that?”

“Eh?” Iruma squeaks, then, in a hushed voice he bashfully whispers, “I uh. Had a few jobs to do dubbing work. I mainly voiced animals though— uh Soyo-kun, you’re reeeeally close…” 

Soyo’s just doing what comes naturally to him. 

Sometimes, he wonders why it begins to feel monotonous. He’s enjoying his life, simple and free, and capable of doing everything he’s ever wanted. He gets anything he wants. 

And yet, nothing ever changes in Vassago Soyo’s life. Things are going to change around him, but he fails to do the same. 

Iruma pulls away and Clara comes around with a clipping of the article they’re featured in. Soyo leans back as everyone starts talking about idols and comparing personal biases, and Kerori fumes quietly in the corner. 

Ah, that’s it. 

Soyo has no ambition. 

And he has no desire to make one. 

(No… he does have one. Of course he does. Ameri would never let a demon without ambition be so close to her side.)

(So why…? Why does Soyo not have his own desires?)

(Perhaps the real question was— why was Soyo not allowed to construct an ambition of his own?)

Soyo stops himself from pondering any further. 

He already knows that he’s personally incapable of answering that question.

“GET UP! Fold the blanket, put the pillow promptly! GET DRESSED IN YOUR UNIFORM!” 

Soyo jerks right away, as he does every day, and pulls himself up on the handle beside the bed. Grave is already on his way to the adjacent rooms, and Soyo forgets how to do the buckles on his shoes twice as he hops his way through the room to his cape. 

“Soyo-kun, you’re getting used to that shoe, huh?” Quiche beams, on his way out his room. “I’m glad you like it!” 

Soyo nods, pulling on the accessories of his uniform as they make their way toward the Division room. 

Quiche’s managed to affix Soyo’s usual leg brace into the design of the shoe itself, so it would be much easier to put on. It gave Soyo the liberty to sleep until the wake-up-call now, so he was very grateful for it. 

“130 seconds left!” 

They enter the Division room just in time to catch Iruma panicking like hell, fumbling through the barely-presentable bedsheets into his wrong-sidede shoes and— Iruma whines loudly when he pins the buttons of his double-breasted blazer the wrong order. 

“LINE UP!” 

Ameri was already standing before them at her desk, observing them. 

Iruma is scrambling into the line as Soyo helps get his sofa bedding in order with a little privilege of magic. Everyone’s staring at Iruma as he makes himself presentable, hair tied up, and straightens at the ready. 

“Now tell me! WHO ARE YOU?!”

“WE ARE THE STUDENT COUNCIL OF THE DEVIL SCHOOL, BABYLS!” 

“THAT WAS TOO SLOW!” Ameri yells, “you’re THIRTY SECONDS over the time to line up, thirty thousand push-ups, NOW!” 

“YES, SIR!”

Today is Iruma’s first day as an apprentice in the hell that is the Student Council Battler, and he sure is having quite a bit of culture shock. 

Iruma gets eaten by the demon lilies, gets bullied by the caymans, and actually starts crying around the time the measly food is served to him. 

“This month’s the beginning of the red moon,” Ameri says, “we must practice discipline most of all in this month.”

Iruma nods, placated, tearful. “You live like this, Soyo-kun?”

Soyo hums. “You get used to it.” 

Iruma sobs, clinging onto Soyo, rubbing him on the head. “You’re so sad, Soyo-kun. I’ll treat you better from now on, I promise.” 

Western and Quiche stare at the sight. 

“At least we know the Soyo-kun therapy service is still working,” Western says. 

“It’s in full service this month!” Quiche chuckles. 

“No,” Soyo says, pushing Iruma’s face away. “It is not. Where’s Ameri?”

Western blinks in surprise. “Well, that’s rare,” Soyo usually just takes all the cuddles he’s given, “the President has her own affairs. You’re on duty with me this week.”

“No,” Soyo says, again, to everyone’s surprise. “I have to watch Ameri all day today and this month.” 

Western’s eye twitches. “No, you cannot just do whatever you want,” he says, “you have other duties, so don’t joke around now.”

Soyo and Western stare at each other, eyes scrutinizing. And then Soyo looks away first, standing up, leaving Iruma behind. 

“Ameri,” he simply says, and leaves. 

Western frowns in confusion. Quiche hums, and Iruma is utterly confused by what just happened. Was that an argument, or something?

“I guess even Soyo gets childish with his wants on the red moon,” Quiche says. 

Western sighs. “I’ll tolerate it, I suppose.” 

“It’s Ro-NO-VE!” poses the dramatic bastard, “Soy’o Sauc-é! You have been graced by the Ronove today!” 

Soyo knew there was a reason he’s been sniffling and uncomfortable this whole morning. ronove’s hanging around the student council tower for some reason, and also, why is everything he wears battered with glitter?

Ronove then bids a two-fingered salute, “well then, Ronove is majestic today, so he leaves immediately! Get well soon!” 

Soyo knows he has the authority to cast discipline upon annoyances, but he restrains himself. Ronove was tactful enough to read the situation and leave on his own, he’ll consider that a victory for today.

Ah, Ronove is here to see if Ameri’s addressed the form he submitted via the Morals Committee. Of course, Ameri didn’t, she just threw that out without looking. 

Soyo sniffles. He hates glitter so much. Yawning, he sighs, miserable. Now he’s going to feel terrible for the rest of the day. 

(“Hey, Soyo.”)

Soyo pauses. The bell on his collar is ringing, even though he’s not moving much. 

(“I need you for a bit. Come?”)

Soyo turns around. Both hallways are empty. Behind him, a window. 

This is the howling, a resonance that occurs when one Vassago needs another. It doesn’t always work, and they can’t always make it toward each other, but it’s the effort that counts. 

Soyo wants to watch Ameri this week. But if he’s getting called for a mission, then he supposes it can’t be helped.

He opens the window, pulling on his hood before leaping out. 

This better be quick.

It was not quick. 

Van needed help tracking down someone that’s returned to origins. They don’t have any physical description of him, only that his eyes look different colours in different lights. 

The eyes of someone that’s returned to origins is distinctive, but this guy was really good at hiding and disguising. If he could change the colour of his eyes, he could change its shape too. Soyo would be the only one that could identify him no matter the mask, but it still took time because they had to narrow down the locations first. 

“There, there,” Van pats him on the head, when Soyo puffs up his cheeks in annoyance. 

“It’s evening!” Soyo points at the sky. “Two days!” 

“It’s kinda nice to see you actually get angry for once,” Van says. “And two days is incredible! It’d have taken me five. Thanks for the help. You can go now.” 

“This was on purpose!” 

“No, it wasn’t.” 

“Purpose!” 

“Let’s not look me in the eye right now,” Van sighs, turning away before grabbing something off the shelf, “compensation.” 

It’s a wolf plushie. 

Soyo frowns. “I’m not a child. You can’t keep bribing me with these.”

“Then give it back.” 

“I’m going home,” Soyo grumbles, turning around to walk away, the wolf plushie still in hand. This is completely not worth it. Let’s hope he makes it back in time. 

“Don’t you spoil him?” Narnia asks. 

“It’s fine,” Van says. “Soyo’s meant to be spoiled. You don’t want to catch him in a bad mood or anything.” 

Narnia raises a confused brow. “But he isn’t stronger than you.” 

“It’s not his strength that I fear,” Van says. “You can see it. He got angry— that would never happen, usually.” 

Soyo is ordered to never feel. Not sadness, not rage, not maddening desire or greed. There is only one exception. One way he can regain this ability— one way he can defy every rule Father has ever set upon him. 

“He’s nearing his Wicked Cycle, so the muzzle’s come loose,” Van says. “Let’s hope anger is the furthest he goes.”

But well… Ameri’s around to handle him. It should be fine.

Half the student council are on their knees, heads on the ground.

“We’re very sorry.” 

Ameri looks very troubled by the scene, wearing a flustered expression much unlike her. She’s in the usual, unaltered, school uniform, not even donning her proud cape. 

Everything is wrong. Very, very wrong. 

She looks upon Soyo fearfully. 

Soyo understands. He’s glaring, completely irritated, and he was actually actively trying to stop it this time. But his half-hearted effort wasn’t enough. It sucked. 

Ameri squeaks when Soyo turns to him, and Soyo looks away. 

He doesn’t want to see those emotions in her eyes. Ameri isn’t supposed to be anything but confident, forward, and beautiful. Now, she’s a tangled mess, full of confusion, her mind fluttered in the wrong direction, and full of meekness.

(Her red is dull and ugly.)

Soyo sighs. All he ever wants in life is to come back after a hard day’s work and be able to look at pretty eyes from an uncomfortable distance away. Why does the world keep getting in the way of that?

He supposed this was always going to come. It’ll all turn out well, so for now, he just has to deal with it with the rest of the student council, and it’ll all be fine. 

“Hey, Soyo-kun’s a little… how’d you say this,” Iruma speaks up in whispers toward Grave, “strangely irritable?”

Western frowns. 

He’s right. 

Soyo sighs. He’s hungry. So hungry. 

He sniffles, groaning. Ronove’s glitter is still affecting him— ah, probably because he’s still hanging around the area. That sucks. Nothing smells right. His head hurts. His body’s warm. The world feels sick and colourless. 

He wipes the drool from his chin and sighs again, staggering forward. 

Why did it have to be evening? No one’s in the hallways. He can’t see anyone around, maybe he should’ve stayed in the student council room. But Ameri’s there. 

Wait. Wasn’t he supposed to always stay with Ameri?

(He’s sure there was a reason for it.)

(They’re partners, after all…)

(Why does he need a partner again? It’s not like Ameri’s supposed to follow him on missions.)

A gentle ring of a bell reaches his ears. He crashes into a figure and stays right there with his face in that older man’s chest. 

He pulls back and lifts his head to deep, burning red. 

“Veer?”

He reaches up. How strange. Veer’s not moving, but the bell on his collar is still ringing. Who could be calling for Veer at this time?

Soyo smiles, bright and wide and hungry . 

“Your eyes are pretty,” Soyo says, his nails cradling that soft, soft skin, brushing away the hair that lightly falls over. “Can I have them?”

No, that doesn’t sound quite right. 

He’s not deprived of eyes or anything. He saw some just a few minutes ago. He’s fine. But maybe eyes aren’t enough anymore. 

He needs more.

“Soyo. Ameri was supposed to keep track of your Wicked Cycle,” Veer says, “where is she?”

Soyo shakes her head, confused, when Veer takes his hands aside, and holds them firmly by the wrist, not allowing him to get any closer. 

Why? He’s so close. So close to that pretty, pretty, red thing—

“Soyo, answer the question.”

He’s hungry. So hungry, he could go crazy. Just let me have it. Just let me have it— 

“Soyo, listen to me!” Veer raises his voice, “don’t you dare bare your fangs at me, you brat!” 

Soyo howls, his teeth, far too sharp, grind against each other as his drool spills around his chin. 

He’s so hungry .

Veer sighs, pulling his arm back— Soyo whines when string loops around his arms, dragging them back, tautly to his body, grinding so sharp it cuts and pierces bone, drawing blood. 

“Go to sleep,” he says, it’s more like a plea. “Give yourself a break, Soyo. Didn’t you hear from dad? Have you been taking your vacation days?” 

Soyo’s eyes gleam bright red. He stares at his own hands, the strings cutting into threads striped red and glowing with blood— and Soyo remembers. 

(Eyes are secondary. They’ve always been secondary.)

(More than anything, Soyo loved this.)

(This.)

(This, this is what he loved.)

(The bright red, shining, beautiful, trail of blood. )

How cruel, Dad. How could you order me to forget how beautiful all of this was?

Soyo looks toward his brother again, and his cheeks hurt from how wide they’ve pulled up, how excited he is. He reaches forward, ignoring the way the threads sheared him down the further he went. 

“I just want a bite.”

I just want to eat. 

Anything for that beautiful, beautiful red .

Chapter Text

“What do you mean, Soyo-kun’s on house arrest?” 

“This is sabotage, sir!” 

The Student Council is in a crisis. 

Ronove’s disciplinary and morals Battler has struck with an oncoming threat to abolish the student council and it’s breathing right down their necks.  They need all the hands they can get, and now they hear Soyo’s not going to be around, either? 

Do they want the council to collapse?

“Were the Student Council the kind of group that comes crying when their queen and their pet leave for just a second?” Kalego clicks his tongue. “If you can’t deal with this much, perhaps you were never competent to begin with.” 

And he shuts the door, plunging them back into despair. 

“...he’s right,” Western says. “We have to keep going.”

Hold down the fort. It’s a simple job even an untrained mutt can do. If they can’t even do that, then they don’t deserve to be members of the Student Council. 

“Dad? Hey, I know you can hear me!” 

The bell isn’t responding. Veer curses. 

Of all the times for Father to be too far away to respond… no, he probably thinks this is something his kids can handle on their own. 

“Sivvi’s not coming, and Van’s on his next mission. Just my fucking luck,” he crosses his arms, glaring forward. “So, Soyo? How many pieces do you want to be cut into?”

He raises a hand, prodding at the black string right by his eye. 

Soyo is strung up, crucified, bound and hung up, blood trickling down the length of his arms, pooling in the ground below. 

“Decide quickly.”

Soyo’s eyes burn bright red, redder than before. “You’re so cruel,” he says. “You know how bad the withdrawals are. You know I can’t be as strong as you guys.”

Veer doesn’t falter. 

“Dad was too soft on you,” he says. “If it were anyone else still struggling to control their phase at this age…” he sighs. “To begin with, you should have never been allowed to live the moment you decided to follow a trail like eyes .” 

The Vassago family are free-spirited, liberated police dogs, who act of their own free will, and are lenient on the most arbitrary things. They would only act if they felt like it, and no one was allowed to defy them. 

But in truth, the Vassago family are strictest on their own. 

To follow a trail is to become obsessed with something to the point where you wouldn’t hesitate to commit crimes for it. It would be simple if it were materialistic, then the biggest problems in the world would be bank vault robberies. 

But Vassago follow biological symbols. 

From hair, to skin, to sounds and smells… If given the opportunity, they would fondle, collect, consume , no matter what it was, and how the world sees them. 

Thus, something that cannot be naturally regenerated, like eyes , was never an acceptable trail to follow, no matter how much of a genius Soyo had been. Soyo was always a whim away from diving into a crowd and gouging out every eye in the vicinity, and that was not tenable for a guard dog. 

Eyes and blood come hand in hand. There was no way to remove one without the other.

The Vassago only have one chance to find a trail they like. 

If they follow a problematic trail like this, it’s normal for them to be executed. They are disposable, after all, and many in the family have fallen this way, killed as toddlers who have barely found a trail that didn’t seem useful.

At any moment a Vassago ends up more problematic than they have any right to be, any other Vassago in the vicinity gains the authority to execute them in the name of justice. 

If none of the others in the family show up, it is because they trust Veer to make the decision. They are a pack, and thus, if one must die, they will grant them the peace personally, to respect their last moments. 

That is how this family works. 

(“Do not bite a person,” was one of the first rules established.)

(“But why?”)

(And the next rule was, “you are never allowed to eat meat from an animal.”)

And of course, if you suppress these desires, they explode. Perhaps they can be called ‘withdrawal symptoms’, if one needs to put a name to them. 

(But in truth, to a normal demon this is no different from the Wicked Cycle itself, except, the ‘Wicked Cycle’ of a Vassago is a different beast altogether.)

The Vassago’s Wicked Phase, without exception, involves blood. 

They are dogs, after all, and dogs are inevitably carnivores. So every once in a while, they grow a little stronger, a little louder, a little more obsessed with the bright red that flows within their veins. Within other people’s veins.  

It would be simple for someone like Van, who adores the sound of people’s hearts. In his Wicked Phase, rumours have it that he can hear everything, from the wheeze of oxygen filling up the lungs, down to the little collisions of blood cells inside someone’s veins. 

(But Soyo, who relates his adoration to taste and consummation, cannot find the border between his love and the desire to taste all the red the world can give him.)

(He can’t help but want to eat them all. So much, he’d die if he didn’t get it. He’d go crazy. He’d commit crimes, without hesitation.)

“Soyo, you know,” Veer crouches down, so he could meet Soyo’s eyes. “If you would just learn how to control this, you’d be stronger than all of us. Stronger than Sivvi. You could become the new alpha, even.”

Soyo hisses sharply when the string around his neck tightens. His fingers are gored to the bone, his elbows, just a step away from hurting those nerves—

—Soyo chuckles, miserable. 

“I can’t move.” 

Veer looks at him with only coldness in his eyes. 

“Maybe it’s better if you never move again, then,” he says, the strings on his hands winding just a little tighter around Soyo’s limbs, Around his tendons. “It’s this easy. One wrong cut in the spine, and—” 

Soyo bites his tongue, his face falling.

“There are things you shouldn’t say, Veer.”

Veer smiles now. “It calmed you down, didn’t it?”

Soyo wants to bite his head off. Not to be consumed, but to be thrown aside like garbage, because it’s not worth eating at all. 

He doesn’t know how to deal with this— this anger. He could scream and fight but he knows it’s all fruitless, because he’s not strong enough to defeat Veer in battle. 

(Just like last time around, he’s helpless on his own. Gun to the head, foot to the spine, and a future disappears, just like that. All that’s left is to rot away alone in a room, never to see the light of day again.)

“Do you know why you will never be stronger than any of us, Soyo?”

Soyo clicks his tongue. “Because I'm a brat that needs to know his place?”

Veer flicks him in the forehead. 

“Because you’re a coward,” he says. “We Vassago thrive on information. We strip people down to their weaknesses and use it to our benefit. We get our way, no matter what.”

It didn’t matter how low a blow it was. How sensitive a topic was. 

It didn't matter if they were talking about other people’s trauma— If they could use it, they did. Because if they didn’t, they would be wasting the talent they were born with. 

“You’re a coward, and you’re too kind for your own good,” Veer says. “Have you ever used your information for anything other than petty gifts and carnival games? Have you ever tried to use your powers for something you actually wanted to monopolize?”

Soyo stumbles over his words. 

(Have you ever tried to be evil? Demonic? Have you ever realized that now, you have the power and the right to a wicked desire? An ambition?)

“But, the order…” 

“Do you know why we’re called the demons closest to the origins, but only if we feel like it?” Veer asks. “It’s because all of us have the capability to end up like you are now, but we choose not to.” 

The Vassago are all beings that have returned to origins. 

They’re not treading the line of it. They are . 

It made sense— the Wicked Phase is the only time Soyo can defy the rules, but to be restricted by the rules would be going against the Vassago’s code of being free-spirited arbiters. 

Van, Veer, and Sivvi— they are all capable of controlling their Wicked Phases. 

They are all capable of defying any and every rule if they wish for it. 

They just chose not to , in the same way they chose to crawl back into the present after sinking into the origins. 

(Because they felt like it.)

That innate ability to defy their very instincts— that is a discipline that the Vassago dogs cultivate in order to survive. It’s normally an impossible hurdle for demons.

(That is why only the Vassago are capable of judging the Vassago.)

“You don’t get to go anywhere or eat anything until you’re back to your senses,” Veer says. “Solitary confinement, twenty-four hours. Decide how you want to die by then.”

The door closes and plunges the room into darkness. 

Soyo’s been enjoying himself for so long that he’s forgotten he’s in the Netherworld. He is no longer in the human world, protected by a mother that smiled sadly in his direction and allowed him all the indulgences if it cheered him up just a little. 

Soyo is no longer a burden that needs to be coddled. 

Soyo is a demon now, and he had to learn how to live like one.

“If you were born in my time, you would be a hero of war. So I’m glad you were born in peaceful times.” 

In his past life, Soyo had been a fairly normal person. 

He lived in the age where wielding firearms without a license was illegal, and yet, he craved it. He craved the ear-piercing explosion, the gunpowder-rigged recoil—

He craved it. 

He never lost a first-person shooter game. He never faltered in real shooting. He thrived in shooting galleries— and because he was born into a time of war, this talent of his never got to shine beyond games and tournaments. 

He wondered, if time came for him to aim the weapon at a real human being with the stake of a living, breathing being in his hands…

…somehow, he didn’t think he would hesitate.

“You deserved it.”

His spine ached so terribly it never went away, even long after he recovered. The pain never quite ended, and as he downed pill after pill to keep the pain at bay, the sounds of crushing bones and laughter never quite left. 

“You were asking for it.” 

He believed those words. 

Because if they didn’t mean it, why would they do that to him?

Soyo jolts awake in a room so dark he couldn’t see himself, and he couldn’t move his hands, couldn’t move his feet, everything was numb as the strings strapped him to the wall and said nothing. 

He can do nothing.

And that scared him. That scared him so much. 

(And yet, he knew, he deserved this.)

He hates it. This cold, bitter, loneliness , this overwhelming and crushing emptiness that plagues him, plagues him, and makes the thoughts just fill his head with cruel words.

He hates it so much, so much. 

(Where’s Dad?)

(Dad always makes the scary thoughts go away.)

He hasn’t had a nightmare in so long. So why are they coming back now?

(He doesn’t want to feel this. He doesn’t want to feel this. He doesn’t want to see the person he used to be anymore. He doesn’t want to remember that pathetic, useless human being.)

(He’s a demon. Demons are stronger than this.)

(He’s not human anymore, so why does he have to regret that weakness?)

“Have you decided how you want to die yet, Soyo?” 

“I don’t want to look at you, Veer. Go away.” 

“Alright, see you then.” 

The door closes back into darkness, and Soyo feels like he’s back again, before this lifetime, stuck in a quiet room with only a computer and nothing else for company. He didn’t care back then for anything.

He had been an utter bum back then.

Maybe, it’s always been fated that he would end up a bum in this life, too. 

Just quietly, bound by strings to the wall, stuck in solitary confinement, forever. 

(When will this Wicked Cycled end, anyways?)

(Even if it ends, maybe Soyo won’t notice.)

He wants the orders back on. He’s such a spoiled child. He can’t even live with himself without them. He wants his pacifier, he wants his collar, he wants to be led around by a leash and never make his own decisions, because he’s a spoiled child without a will of his own.

He can’t do anything without them. He doesn’t want to do anything without them. He has no ambition, no desires, nothing. 

(He can never be a demon without it. And that’s why, he cannot be anything.)

He’ll stay here, in solitary confinement, forever. He doesn’t care anymore.

“Have you decided how you want to die yet, Soyo?”

There is silence in the room. 

“Alright, I’ll be back.” 

He doesn’t understand why Veer keeps coming back. Why doesn’t he just kill him instead? Is this some kind of torment, that Veer keeps checking on him, and yet, never does his job of bestowing judgment on him?

What does Veer get out of this?

Soyo’s tired.

Tired of this.

He doesn’t want to do anything. He doesn’t want to think of anything.

He doesn’t want anything at all. Veer looks down on him, never helping, simply watching his pathetic form— and Soyo can do nothing but curl up and not deny his own powerlessness.

Soyo cannot do anything. He cannot overpower Veer, he cannot change himself to become the ideal Vassago that he’s supposed to be.

He cannot be anything. 

He hates those expectations. Why does he have to try to be the ideal Vassago? Why can’t he just be useless and powerless, a meaningless creature, just living each day? Can’t he just do that? Why does he have to do more than just survive?

(He’s just sitting here, wallowing in self-pity, doing nothing.)

(No wonder Veer’s not helping him.)

(He’s spoiled and he doesn’t even know how to save himself.)

(Soyo doesn’t know how to be a demon. But maybe he doesn’t know how to be a human either. That’s why, even in his last life, he simply rotted away in a small room, being nothing but a burden.)

(Ah, he’s so sick of it.)

(He’s so sick of it, and yet, he doesn’t know what he can do to change this situation he’s in.)

Iruma can’t help but be concerned. 

Soyo’s reportedly staying home sick from his Wicked Cycle (and Cassago-sensei just isn’t divulging any other details,) and Ronove’s presidential campaign to abolish the student council grows each day. They’re in trouble, and they can’t find the culprit. 

“I’m afraid I won’t live up to expectations,” Ameri admits,cowering in her revealing clothes, unable to pick up the courage to be brave and confident as she’s always been. “I’d rather run away. I’d rather take normal classes, read books, drink tea… enjoying peaceful days, without a single care in the world.” 

She, too, wants to run away. 

“Iruma-san,” she addresses, and that’s wrong. That’s wrong, Ameri isn’t the kind to address him so formally. “If you could accept me, as who I am now… then I’d rather stay like this forever, by your side.” 

She lays upon him, intimately, wanting nothing but to rely on him. And for a human with conventional needs and desires, perhaps, there is no better dream than such a wonderful, beautiful woman wanting to entrust everything to him.

But it’s wrong. 

“That’s just an empty idea!” Iruma insists, pushing her away. “To live as a demon is to have ambition! There’s no reason to live without desire !” 

He takes her shoulders and looks her in the eyes. 

“That’s what you taught me, Ameri-san!” he says, firm and resolute. “That even if we can’t figure it out, even if we can’t take hold right now, we’ve got to keep trying, keep learning, and keep achieving! As a member of the Student Council I’ve learned so much about that! Isn’t that what the Student Council means to us? To Babyls?” 

(Behind the doorway, rolling a strand of Ameri’s hair between his fingers, he sighs deeply.)

(“Even Iruma understands,” he murmurs. “I wonder why Soyo can’t.”)

“Have you decided how you want to die yet, Soyo?”

Soyo lifts his head. “Just leave me al—” 

He falls short. 

Veer’s eyes are blood red, but they’re strained, they’re exhausted, and they’re on the verge of tears. His voice is even, but his eyes are at their breaking point of desperation.

How long have those eyes been like that?

So…

…so, so, unpleasant?

The Vassago family's eyes are red, carnal and crimson, and they are, above anything, beautiful . They are full of pride and glory and desire. 

Ameri had become so ugly too, hadn’t she? 

(Huh? Why did that happen again?)

He can't remember right now. All he can think of is that he wants the beautiful, calming, wonderful, gorgeous, beautiful, beautiful, beautiful, beautiful …

(Where is my pretty, pretty red?)

Soyo doesn’t want to do anything. He’s content, just sitting around here, doing nothing for the rest of his life. 

And yet now, in Veer’s eyes, he reads only one emotion. 

A desire for change, a return, and such overwhelming sadness.

(It was just a while ago that Soyo wanted nothing but to talk to Veer for hours and hours about nothing. Because Veer stopped talking to the family and Soyo was lonely, lonely, lonely.)

(When did he forget that, again?)

Veer hasn’t let Soyo see his eyes in so, so long. And now, he gets to see it all, only to be faced with just how mournful they looked. 

“Soyo, I asked a question,” Veer repeats. “Have you decided how you want to die yet?”

“Yes.” 

He wants to know why his brother is sad.

“I want to die,” he says, “looking at your eyes, when they’re bright red and determined and prideful. I want to see something beautiful when you kill me.” 

That’s how he wants to die.

If he could die surrounded by his beautiful, beautiful red— he would die happy. 

And yet, Veer’s red isn’t beautiful right now.

Why isn’t it beautiful?

(He wants to find out why his beautiful red isn’t beautiful enough anymore.)

He doesn’t notice when the strings around his arms loosened, when he picks back up on shaky feet, when he stumbles up and forward and into his brother’s arms and then he’s reaching for his face, red eyes locked in red, as close as he can get. 

“I want to know ,” he says, and it’s a want, it’s a desire, it’s something he craves so much, “I want to know how to make these eyes beautiful again, Veer.” 

I want to know why.

I want to know why.

(I want to know why you and Ameri have dulled from your beauty, and I want to know how to see things even more beautiful than this.)

(I want to enjoy such beautiful sights, all over the world, over and over and forever.)

(I want to see more.)

(I want to see so much more, I want to live on and make sure the world is filled with things more beautiful than even Ameri.)

(So I’ll never be sad, I’ll never be bored, I’ll never be trapped in cycles of darkness.)

(I want more.)

It’s an ambition. So simple, and yet, he’s never recognized it in himself. 

It’s an ambition. It’s his. He’s not a failure after all. 

“You’re my weak, pathetic baby brother,” Veer says, and he leans in, breaking eye contact so their foreheads could touch. He reaches up and finally, finally, finally touches Soyo’s hair fully. “You’re such a genius, so why did it take you so long to figure out you wanted something? You really take after Mother in the worst places.” 

Veer doesn’t hate him. No one does. 

So Soyo doesn’t understand why everything hurts. Why he doesn’t believe it. Why is he suffering like this? What has he ever done to deserve this pain, this loneliness? Why can’t he just be loved forever, doing just everything he loves.

(Why did they destroy my life and why did I die in vain?)

(That wasn’t fair.)

“I don’t like this,” he says. “I don’t like this. I don’t like this.”

He doesn’t like these emotions. They crush and cripple him and fill him with regrets that pile up in a life he can no longer change.

It makes him feel so helpless and stupid. 

He doesn’t want to cry about his past life anymore but it hurts him all the same. It haunts him in every nightmare. It makes him scream from shame and guilt. He doesn’t want to cry about it anymore but he still does. He’s not strong enough to forget or forgive it.

He wants Dad to come back and make him forget those memories, make him stop feeling, so he wouldn’t have to wallow in these emotions again.

But he’s not a baby anymore. 

“Veer,” he sobs, wrapping his arms around his brother and wailing, “I don’t like this.” 

“Of course you don’t,” Veer mutters. “No one likes solitary confinement. We’re a wolfpack. We’re not made to live on our own.” 

The hand that rests on his head is warm and comforting. They rub around his ears and cradle his head so gently.

He doesn’t push away.

Soyo continues to cry.

His ambitions have always been with him, and yet, he could only realize them without the commands that chain him to the ground. The commands are never meant to hinder and restrict him— they have always been a marker of growth, a shell, an egg that a chick is meant to crack through into adulthood.

If he continues to obey the commands, he’ll never get stronger. He’ll never become anything. He’ll never be more than just a baby in his father’s arms. 

He has to move on.

He has to move on.

He is no longer a weak human child, crippled by fear and oppression. He is a demon, given magical healing, granted a second lease in life.

He can’t live his second life like his first. He has to get stronger. 

Every step is going to hurt, but they move now. They’re no longer chains to a chair like it was in his past life— he’s no longer restricted by expectations. He’s no longer looked down upon by envious peers that saw him for only his skills.

He’s been liberated long ago.

“You’re such a crybaby,” Veer groans. “Spoiled, I tell you, you’re spoiled.”

(And so he wails, loud and desperate, into his brother’s chest.)

(Just for a little longer, he’ll be a crybaby. Just for a little longer, and then, he promises, he’ll be better from now on.)

Chapter Text

So, what’s changed?

Nothing much for now, but honestly, Soyo is morbidly terrified and embarrassed for himself. He cried like a baby into his brother’s chest and the next day there were about five more plushies added to his pile at home. He’s happy to know it means Veer came home for once, but the exhausted look Kalego gives him in the corridors is telling. 

His head is clear today. 

He never realized how cloudy it’s been over his head, but having it be clear so suddenly is jarring. He’s never had a problem being honest or impulsive, but somehow, it finally feels like it’s truly him doing things. 

(it’s nice.)

He buckles on the collar, pulls on the hood today again— and takes a stride, confident and full, to Babyls Demon School. 

He took a break for his Wicked Cycle, so from now on, he’s going to work twice as hard. 

Honestly, Soyo’s forgotten how much he’s hated his classroom. First there’s the hell called ‘an impractical number of stairs’, ‘low lighting’, ‘unpleasant graffiti across the walls’, and today in particular there’s also garbage piled up in the turning. 

Soyo’s sensitive ears and nose might just give in one day. Also, it’s kind of cold and drafty. This classroom sucks. The signboard is falling apart. 

(It’s a funny classroom that reeks of demonic vibes, but in all seriousness Soyo can’t wait to get back into the Student Council room.)

“Soyoyon! Soyoyon, run! Iruma’s on his Wicked Cycle, don’t get captured!” 

Soyo gets captured. Obviously. He’s barely stumbled to the front door, ready to give up on life, when the door throws open and Iruma drags him in for pampering session #1 of the day. 

Now he’s sprawled over Iruma’s lap as the hands of god themself coo over his hair and ears and it’s pure bliss. Clara’s sitting on his other lap, frozen in happiness. Asmodeus is standing two feet away in petrified jealousy.

“Kind of amazing how he’s got three of our high ranks right under his thumb,” Lied says. “The power of the Iruma is fearsome.” 

“Was that ever a question?” Sabnock asks. “I wouldn’t exactly say Iruma didn’t always have a talent for handling Valac and Vassago.” 

“All that’s left is for Jazz to—” 

“Absolutely not. Now. What’s with those hands?” Jazz stares, when Lied tries in vain to reach out toward them, not really inching toward him either.

“I wanna mofu-mofu Soyoyon too.”

“True. I feel we’ve had Soyo deficiency recently.” 

“But seriously, if we could limit Iruma’s Wicked Cycle tendencies to ‘spoiling Soyo three times more than usual’ I think we could all have a picture-perfect happy ending with no problems,” Jazz says. “But that’s wishful thinking.” 

“And you would be right,” Allocer states. “As one would say, knock enough times and Lord Delkira may come answering.” 

“Lord Delkira…” 

Iruma turns to the conversation. 

“You know, you’ve just given me a good idea.” 

And then Iruma stands up, leading Clara and Asmodeus out the door. Soyo follows a moment after, his ears perked up with interest.

The rest of the class stare.

Then, in pure horror, “a good idea for what?”

“Three days to get the signatures of every faculty member… all for a new classroom, huh?” Jazz says, “I’d say it a fair proposal, but… you’re really going a little far demanding them open up Royal One, the classroom of the king, just for us.” 

“Yeah, we may have a reputation, but…” 

“Honestly, I don’t particularly mind our current classroom.” 

“It’s kinda funny being treated like outcasts, too. It’s not like we’re not acting on it.”

“Come on, just think about it, our classroom sucks,” Iruma says. “The other classes look down on us, they draw over our walls, leave trash at our door, and our windows and furniture are always broken. And it’s difficult for Soyo to make it down there every day, too.” 

“Eh. I’m fine.” 

“Don’t be a pushover. Say you’re not.” 

“...I’m not.” 

“Good. Soyo says he’s not okay with it,” Iruma states, very firmly. “All of you! Our Soyo said he’s not okay with our classroom! What other reason do you need to take action?!”

There’s a horrified gasp across the room. 

“You’re right! Why didn’t we think of that?!” 

“We were so inconsiderate! We’re so sorry Soyo!” 

Soyo finds himself the center of attention and he wonders if they’re all just looking for reasons to act out, because seriously, what is this?

“You know, jokes aside,” Iruma brings up. 

“So you acknowledge it is a joke after lal huh,” Jazz murmurs. 

“You know, for the election a couple days back… which ones of you voted for Ronove instead of Ameri? Raise your hands.”

Though the classroom had been firmly on Iruma’s side thus far, the majority of the classroom had no problems solemnly and unapologetically raising their hands. None of them had voted for Ameri, and the reason was simple—

—Ronove just seemed like more fun , that’s it. 

“I voted for Iruma!” Clara beams. 

Asmodeus gawks, “he wasn’t an option! I mean, I would have done that too if I could but…” 

“I voted for the lady, of course,” Camui says. 

“I don’t vote,” Sabnock claims, “why would I give anyone the edge over me in authority?”

“What vote? I was sleeping,” says Agares.

“And as for Soyoyon,” Lied reaches over to pat him on the head, “he was absent for the vote, but you would’ve voted for Ameri too, right? I guess that goes without saying—” 

“No.” 

When Soyo speaks, it surprises everyone. Even Iruma. 

“I wouldn’t have voted at all,” he says, like it’s only a matter of fact. “I already knew how things would end. So I wouldn't have bothered.” 

(The Vassago are, after all, infamous for their knowledge.)

(Not for their tendency to act on that knowledge.)

And in response, Iruma bursts out laughing. 

“What’s with you guys?!” he exclaims. “You’re egoistical, prideful, and self-centered, aren’t you? What a bunch of dangerous demons you are.” 

He extends a hand. 

“Think of how amazing it would be for us troublemaking abnormals to seize Royal One for ourselves!” 

People really do change on their Wicked Phases, huh? 

Soyo thinks fondly upon everyone’s efforts. Babyls is lively today, as it is every day, when Iruma’s around. He likes the atmosphere very much. 

It’s much better that he’s not stuck in a dark basement with his thoughts anymore, because coupled with the lively sounds and happy conversations and cheerful gazes all around, this is a wonderful place to be.

“Sorry, Vassago-kun, I mean… I’m very willing to give my signature, you know? It’s just, I can’t see things working out too well if you don’t deal with that first.” 

When Dantalion Dali refuses to stamp the paper, Soyo’s honestly at a loss for words.

“I suppose you guys have more hurdles to cross than just Sir Kalego, or the Student Council, or even of the older faculty names that would be hard nuts to crack, but I’d say the most stubborn nut of them all is one you’re vividly familiar with.” 

Oh no.

Oh no, why didn’t he realize this sooner.

Soyo knows everything that’s going to happen in this show, except what he doesn’t. So, naturally, he already knows they’re going to succeed in gathering all the signatures and they’ll start classes in their new classroom soon.

What he hasn’t factored in is himself.

Himself, and his family.

And Vassago Veer. 

“Oh, what am I worried about,” he muses to himself, “it’s Veer. I just need to ask nicely and—-”

“I’m not stamping,” Veer says. 

And Soyo’s really trying his best not to panic. But it’s not really working, because seriously, this might be the first time a plot progression has real danger of not happening. He wouldn’t care if it were a bad progression, but the acquisition of royal one is crucial to all future arcs. 

If this doesn’t happen, nothing will . 

“Why?” 

Soyo’s very worried. He just wants things to go well. But unlike in the original story, now Veer is a crucial point of all faculty decisions. So if he doesn’t agree, most others won’t. 

“I just don’t want to,” Veer says. He’s not even turning to look at Soyo. “You’re throwing a wrench into a lot here.” 

“But things will turn out okay. You know that. You know I know that.”

“So?”

And Soyo can’t answer that.

A simple ‘so’ and he’s so stumped all his thoughts halt and he has to rethink everything he’s ever done in his life.

Okay, so things will be fine. So this is how things are supposed to go.

So what?

They are the Vassago, and they don’t give half a crap. They just do whatever they want, never wanting to be involved with the happenings of the world. 

(They are demons.)

(They are egoistical, self-centered, and only work for their own amusement.)

“See, Soyo, you got your Wicked Phase under control, but you haven’t understood a thing yet.” 

And when Veer turns around, his eyes are full of resolve, full of challenge, and full or irritation. Veer is tired— of course he is. He always is. He’s impatient and busy. He always is. 

“Right now, I don’t care about making things better for your class, or you at all, though, I still love you, you know?” Veer says. “But I’m still not going to sign it. Why?”

And he points at his eyes.

And Soyo finds the answer himself.

It’s simple. 

(“Because Kalego doesn’t want me to, and I’m an obedient puppy, so I won’t.”)

It’s that simple.

The Vassago may love each other, but above anything, they care for what they personally desire. Their own ambition . If Soyo wants to get in the way of Veer’s complacency, he’s going to have to challenge him for it. 

(And how dare a cub get in the way of an elder brother’s meal?)

Soyo remembers days in darkness. His limbs still ache, stinging from the wires that kept him bound and helpless. He remembers, palpably, how little he could do against them. 

(Having fun and dancing around problems has always worked for him. But he has never truly confronted anything before.)

(He doesn’t know how he’s supposed to win again Veer in anything.)

Soyo wanders back to the Misfits Classroom, a little dejected. 

“Oh, Soyoyon’s back,” Clara says. “Did you manage to get any more?”

Soyo shakes his head.

They got the easy ones out of the way today. They’ll have to continue tomorrow, after they get some information on the other faculty members and what they can use against them to blackmail some more stamps their way. 

“Right now, our biggest problems are these few,” the strategy meeting is happening in the center of the classroom. “Orias-sensei won’t agree to this, because he’s very practical and prideful and he’ll want to now we’re worth gambling on.” 

“Negotiating with him won’t get us anywhere,” Lied says. He’s part of the Games Battler that the teacher advises, so he knows well. “We gotta win a game against him, but… well, we’ll have to trick our way to victory somehow.” 

“If it’s trickery, I can contribute,” Camui says. 

“Sorry, Orias-sensei is super open bisexual. Your perversion will not phase him at all,” Lied says. “I mean, let’s at least get a game he would know nothing about. Clarin, do you still have Unjalaka?”

“Unjalaka-UNJALAKA, YES-WE-DO!” 

“Great. Then…” 

“Lied can handle that one,” Iruma picks up another paper. “Sabnock, you’re the only one that can handle this one. Go apologize to Blushenko-sensei for picking a fight with him on day one already.”

“Urk.” 

“And then…. that’s right. Soyo, can you—” Iruma falls quiet.

Soyo’s sitting in his seat, entirely in silence and deep in thought. 

“Oh, we could skip most of this roundabout information gathering if we just used his Bloodline Ability, right?” Agares says. “Just bribing Suzy-sensei and the New Magic Battler won’t be enough for most of the other teachers.” 

“And most won’t budge unless Kalego-sensei and Vassago-sensei move,” Gaap says. 

Soyo’s now surrounded by three Aries Pixies, and Iruma takes a single permission slip to settle in front of him. 

“Hey Soyo. Going against Vassago-sensei might be a little bit of a sore spot for you, so we won’t force you, but…” Iruma keeps his hand on the paper. “It’s fine if you can’t. We’ll figure something out—” 

Soyo’s fist lands on the paper before he can think better of it.

It’s so quick, so impulsive, his fist comes down hard and loud on the wood table. So much the bang draws everyone’s attention and plunges the classroom into silence. 

Honestly, Soyo doesn’t know what he wants.

He wants to be free. He wants to have nice things. He wants to see pretty, pretty things. He can get all of that, he doesn’t have to risk anything to get it… right?

But he doesn’t want to antagonize his brother. He’s not a fan of confrontation. He doesn’t want to act high and mighty, because he knows the consequences of making enemies, whether intentional or otherwise. 

(So, he doesn’t know why right now, his fist is on the paper.)

(He doesn’t know why he’s saying this.)

“I want to do it.” 

He’s afraid of everything blowing up in his face again.

(“We Vassago thrive on information. We strip people down to their weaknesses and use it to our benefit. We get our way, no matter what.”)

(“You’re a coward, Soyo. That’s why you’ll never be stronger than me.”)

“I want to see it,” he says. He doesn’t know why he’s so excited. Why he’s so eager. Why he’s so frustrated, and why that makes him want to go on even further than before. 

Oh, he gets it now.

This is desire. This is a wicked desire.

“I want to see the look in my brother’s eyes when I prove him damn fucking wrong.” 

Why is he excited? He’s so afraid, he might lose it all, but who cares? His brother’s blood red are beuatiful, and Soyo wants to see more of it.

Not just toleranc,e sadness, or pity, Soyo wants to see more emtoions from it.

He wants to see joy. Excitement. Anger. Disgust. He wants to see fear, too, if that’s possible. Oh, of course that’s possible. He wants to see it all.

Because either way, they’ll be his brother’s beautiful ruby red and he can’t get enough of it. It’s untaintable.

(Is he insane, for thinking like this?)

Who cares?

Honestly, Soyo couldn’t give much of a crap about Royal One right now.

Right now, he just wants to win, just once, against Veer. 

Maybe it’ll be revenge for that hell of a solitary confinement he put him through. 

The grin on his face is wide and Soyo understands that he hasn’t felt so genuinely excited in so long. Now that his chains have gone, his blood boils, and the world is fiery and red in the setting sun. 

(And it’s all so breathtakingly beautiful. )

Iruma sees this, and Iruma laughs, good-naturedly. 

“Is that so?” he says. And he lets Soyo take the paper, without any struggle. “Then take it. Be victorious. Go wild!” 

The fourteen Misfits are unstoppable, when they get things through. Cause trouble, be stupid, and epitomize functional madness even beyond the understanding of the average demon. 

And that is why they head into their days with their game faces on, eager to get all thirty-seven signatures today for the most historic underdog turnout of Babyls history. 

“You okay, Soyo?” 

“Nope!” Soyo says, rising from the rubble in shredded clothes and bricks. “I’m gonna try again!” 

He’d just lost a round of Rock Paper Scissors with his brother and got punted through the wall. It’s jarring how good his brother is at luck games, even though Soyo technically has the advantage in information taking. 

“Don’t push yourself.” 

“Yeah!” 

Games don’t work. Talking won’t work. Bribing won’t work. 

(He tried to bribe his brother with permission to go full salon on his hair, only for Veer to scowl at him, restrain him, and proceed to operate ultimate salon experience because bitc h, you think I need your permission? And generally Soyo realizes that in a game of strength and offers, Soyo has nothing for him.)

Soyo doesn’t have anything to use against Veer. Veer already has all he needs, and he has the ability to get all he needs. 

He won’t cave like Sivvi, and he’s much more stubborn, which means cute pleading won’t work. No favours will win him over. No crying will, either. 

So, there’s only one thing left.

It’s okay.

Soyo’s powerful, Soyo’s a demon. Soyo’s abnormal, and he’s having so much fun just trying and trying— nothing could possibly stop his stride right now.

“Because you’re a coward. We Vassago thrive on information. We strip people down to their weaknesses and use it to our benefit. We get our way, no matter what. You’re a coward, and you’re too kind for your own good.”

“Veer.” 

The older Vassago doesn’t turn around.

The teachers sigh at the sight. It’s not unusual to see Soyo in the faculty office these two days, and everyone knows why. It’s kind of cute, they think, that Soyo’s genuinely trying so hard, and veer just isn’t giving way. 

“What do you want this time, Soyo?”

“I want an official birthright duel.” 

There’s a shocked pause. 

In the Vassago family, anyone with capability is accepted into the main house. Sivvi earned her way in with these very duels, and just as easily, she could be kicked out of it. It didn’t matter if you were pureblooded or otherwise, skill and capability was all that mattered here. 

Kalego’s pen stops in it’s tracks. “Wait…” he lifts his head, “both of you—” 

Veer raises a hand. 

“You’re not serious, Soyo,” Veer says. “I know you’re desperate, but you do know you’re at the bottom of the rankings right now. So if you lose, you’re out of the family tree. You know that, right?”

“I know,” Soyo says. 

His voice is light and unbothered. 

“Just one!” Soyo says. He’s cheerful. “If I lose this one, I’ll stop bothering you anymore. Even if I win, you don’t gotta give your birthright or anything, I just want your stamp! You have nothing to lose.” 

Veer sighs. “How ridiculous.” 

But it’s considered much more insulting on both parties to refuse a birthright duel. Soyo doesn’t seem to understand the sheer gravity of what he’s putting at stake here— and Veer’s honestly so annoyed by it.

Maybe he should humble this child a little. It’s not like there are familial witnesses around right now. So if they keep it a secret, no one’s birthright has to be taken away.

“Alright,” Veer closes his book. “You know the rules?”

The birthright duel is a duel of information. Of how well you can use it against each other, of how much you can use against each other. Of how far you’re willing to go, to the spirit of the Vassago. 

(They get to say one thing each, to each other. The first to get violent loses.)

Soyo beams, victoriously. “Yeah, I d—” 

He doesn’t get to finish his sentence. 

Veer turns around on his chair, a single hand held out with his pointer finger forward in a finger gun motion. 

Then, jerking his hand lightly backward,

“Bang!” 

Honestly, Soyo doesn’t remember what happened immediately afterward. 

Everything’s a blur. He’s on the ground, he knows his throat hurts and everything’s ringing— he’s on the ground, against the wall, far from where Veer is. 

“You’re so stupid, my little brother,” Veer says. 

Soyo looks up through blurry, tear-streaked eyes, and Veer is right above him. A distance away is Kalego, releasing a longsuffering sigh. He’s calling for someone, and the teachers are hustling around, concern on their faces. 

“A birthright duel is something you’re not ready for yet,” Veer says. “Honestly, Dad didn’t think you’d ever be. Not when your weaknesses are always so loud for the world to hear. You’re not chained down for being the most uncontrollable mutt in the family, you’re also the weakest, most pathetic and helpless one. So he coddles you.” 

Soyo’s hands are trembling. 

They’re trembling and his teeth are chattering and he can only remember the pain that doesn’t exist in his lower body and he’s so terrified. 

His face, it’s alright. 

It doesn’t hurt. 

He reaches for his own face, unable to believe it. When Veer leans closer, he reaches for it too, unable to comprehend where he is, what’s going on. 

“See? You can’t handle it at all,” Veer says, resting a hand on Soyo’s head. “Come on. Say sorry, I’ll pretend this all never happened. I’ll bring you home, and let’s have dinner together or som—” 

Soyo’s hand tightens around Veer’s collar, and with a violent jerk he pulls his brother’s face down, until their lips touch. 

There’s a startled gasp from everyone in the faculty office, but loudest of all from Veer himself. 

The sharp swipe through the side of his cheek and the piercing pain on his tongue is very expected, and Veer pulls away so quickly he shoves Soyo away in the process, stumbling in horror back onto his feet.

He reaches for his mouth, cursing as he’s realized what he’s done. 

“You brat—!!” 

And Soyo lifts his head with a wide, wide grin. 

The laughter that cackles out of him is genuine and unhinged . His fingers smear the bleeding red against the new wounds Veer has afflicted on him, and he wears them with sardonic pride. 

“You hurt me! Looks like I win, Veer!” 

(Grimly, grimly, Veer realizes.)

(He is going to miss when this mutt was obedient and adorable, because now that the Orders are off, he might turn out to be worse than Sivvi.)

"Ah fuck-- you brat! Don't you dare swallow any of that blood in your mouth!" 

Chapter Text

Long story short, they got the Royal One.

“So, Vassago-sensei is absent?” Lied asks. “What a shame! We’re finally going to open Royal One and he’s not here to witness this?”

“Soyo isn’t here either…” Elizabetta wonders, “I wonder if he’s taking another break. He was pretty bummed after we calmed him down from his cycle’s resurfacing.”

“I heard the Student Council dorms are currently flooded with Aries Pixies,” Camui says.

“Sounds comfortable,” Agares says. “Maybe I should go too.”

“Leave the dogs alone,” Kalego groans. “I wouldn’t put it past them to already know what the place looks like, anyways. You’re the only ones missing out if you don’t witness the opening.”

Kalego proceeds to the doors, not at all realizing the bafflement he leaves in his wake.

This is a class of ‘abnormals’. A class of weirdos, and they’ve just made themselves a pretty amazing and notorious name in this school of demons. It honestly seeks to say something, when the Vassago just continue to befuddle them.

“Now, poor little Soyo dear got bullied by his brother, let him rest,” Raim says. “They both need some days of a mental health break.”

“Huh?”

“What happened?”

“I’m honestly rather impressed,” Marbas says, “I wonder why Vasssago-sensei doesn’t do torture arts instead of me. The Vassago are always the most efficient at that.”

“I’d say Soyo-kun’s pretty incredible too,” Dali chuckles, “didn’t even hesitate! Honestly, what kinda nerves of steel does he have to retaliate so well, so quickly?”

“Honestly, I’m a little worried about Sivvi now,” Raim says. “A single minute’s battle between Soyo and Veer is that bad. How did Sivvi win her hour-long battle against Vassago Van to seize inheritor position?”

“I think we’re all better off not knowing!” Suzy beams.

“Teachers, sirs, everyone, please— you’re terrifying the kids,” Robin hollers. There’s about three Misfits behind him right now trembling in confusion, though Clara is standing beside him and very eager to hear more.

“I suppose we should go visit that troublesome Vassago later,” Asmodeus says, “he’ll be so bummed he missed out on this carnival going on. Everyone get him some souvenirs!”

“I will get the biggest one!” Sabnock declares.

“I shall aim for something useful,” Goemon says. “Like, supplies. Or, tea, to ease his weary soul.”

“Can’t go wrong with another pillow or plushie,” Agares says.

“One can never have too big a plushie paradise in their abode,” Allocer says, like that’s supposed to be some wise quote from important fellow number three. “We shall aim for the most valuable and overpriced plush toys in this array!”

“Already on it,” Lied sings. “Sorry my fellow Game Battler friendos, this is for our precious class puppy.”

“Iruma. Iruma, there is a dance battle machine,” Kerori whispers in excitement, “it’s for two players, do it with me please.”

Royal One is large and grandiose, of course. It’s in pristine state, just as it used to be in its prime when the Demon king himself studied in this classroom. It’s kind of overwhelming, honestly.

“Woah, Vassago, you alright?” Dali laughs, when Veer walks into the staffroom looking worse for wear.

Veer latches right on to Momonoki by the shoulders. She squeaks, but after taking in his glare, she obediently sits down.

“Uhm. Yes. Please go ahead.”

Dali bursts out laughing. “Here it comes!”

Every single classroom notices the nice smell of shampoo and fabulously styled hair on every teacher that day, but only one class is brave enough to ask about it.

“Uhm, Kalego-sensei, you look exactly the same as usual, but how do I say this…”

Lied hesitates, because he doesn’t want to die.

So thank the devil for Clara.

“Eggy-sensei, you’re so swishy and swoosh today!”

And everyone blurts out in an instant. “YEAH, THAT.” Because it made absolutely no sense, but that is exactly what’s wrong.

Kalego’s hairstyle isn’t different. He isn’t using the fragrant shampoo as the other teachers. But everyone somehow can feel that the quality of his hair has elevated. Somehow. Even the idiots that use 21-in-1 soap, they just can feel the shine and luster emanating from his head, that’s just how impressive his hair is.

“Drop the haircare routine, teach!” Clara beams.

“What routine? There’s no routine, this is inevitable,” Kalego says, without missing even a beat. “Now sit down and stop dogpiling Iruma. I need to pretend to take attendance.”

“But sensei, what if he goes Wicked Cycle on us again? I need to be the first to know and report!” Asmodeus insists.

“He isn’t a baby! Put a warning sign on him and cope like the rest of us!”

“But Eggy-sensei, Irumacchi is lonely!”

“I don’t give a shit! Back to your seat, Valac!”

“But Kalego sir, it’s not fair these two get to get all chummy with Iruma, we all wanna be chum-chum with our future Demon King too!”

Iruma begs for his life, “please stop calling me that! I’m sorry for sitting on the throne!”

Kalego sighs longsufferingly, slouching on the grand chair he’s been given as a teacher and turning to the handout in his hand. He honestly doesn’t know why he bothers with these louts.

“Alright, fine,” Kalego decides, “everyone in the Abnormals was absent from class today.”

“ABUSE OF POWER! ABUSE OF POWER!”

“KALEGO-SENSEI I’M ALREADY NEARING THE LIMIT OF ABSENCES FOR THE YEAR! YOU’RE BEING UNREASONABLE!”

“IF YOU MARK ME DOWN AS ABSENT I’M GONNA GO HOME NOW, YOU TYRANNOUS BASTARD!”

And so, the world goes on.

Soyo, for one, adores the Royal One. Fluffy cushions, spacious halls, high ceilings, and luxurious ornaments, down to the soft carpeted flooring and embellished walkway. There’s a lot more space to cover, but at least there aren’t any crumbling steps, lifted floorboards, or cold drafts in broken windows to worry about anymore.

“The nap room is upstairs, but there’s a lift up the spirals,” Lied tells him. “I think it was for smaller demons, back when it was in use. Just press this button here—”

It’s all perfectly functional.

“Is this heaven?” Soyo can’t help but blurt out.

Which prompts an exasperated response from Agares: “No? This is hell?”

“We’re glad you like it,” Jazz says, “you’ve been having a tough time back in the old classroom with your leg, haven’t you? Now the floor’s carpeted. And we have a thermostat.”

These people are way too nice. Soyo feels like ‘demons’ must be some alternative name for ‘perfect, goodest people that have done no wrong in their lives and are the nicest, gentlest blessing on this land’. Because there’s no other explanation to the way they keep looking out for him like this. He really doesn’t mind, he’s used to his leg giving him trouble— but all of them seem to have decided to never stop minding his situation.

“But I get what you mean,” Iruma chuckles, when they piggyback Soyo up the stairs anyway, since not everyone can fit in the lift and everyone was going up at once. “Everyone’s so nice, huh?”

Soyo nods.

“Jazzy is nice, even if he keeps stealing my wallet,” Soyo says.

“What, I did?” Jazz blinks, searching his own pockets. “Oh damn, I did. Do you want it back?”

Bizzare.

But that’s probably why Soyo loves it here.

“You know what the End-of-Terminus means,” Kalego says. “You’re getting tested on your lectures.”

This is not common sense to any of the morons in class.

“Wait, our lectures? We’re getting tested on them??” Lied’s voice is the most distraught.

“Of course,” Kalego says, putting down his book. “You already got tested on flight, magic, athleticism, and Battlers. The only test left for this term is on everything you’ve been learning in your classes, what else did you expect?”

As the class proceeds to have a mental breakdown, Kalego makes his way to Soyo’s desk, and levels him with a stern gaze.

“And Soyo, you know what that means.” In Kalego’s hand is a pitch black bandanna with the crest of the Vassago on it, and the command is clear. “The teachers can’t exactly delay preparing for your test questions any longer— your restrictions start today, we already have permission from your Father.”

Soyo’s shoulders droop and his ears angle downward in dread.

“What’s with that, Sensei?”

“Why’s Soyoyon always got to have weird extra conditions when we do things?”

“Oh, quiet,” Kalego says. “If the rest of you had Bloodline Magic like his, you’d go through these too. It’s not like they’re uncommon.”

“Like what?”

Soyo looks at the bandanna like it’s his death sentence, but if it’s an order, there’s nothing he can do. With a deep sigh, he slips the bandanna past his ears, and pulls the cloth fully over his eyes.

It’s complete darkness behind the blindfold, just as he’d expected. He didn’t even get light through it, and that made it all strangely isolating.

“And that’s that,” Kalego tells the class. “From now until exams are over, Soyo will have to be blindfolded at all times while on school grounds. The only exceptions are when he is studying alone, or with all of you, without a teacher present.”

“WHAT?”

“That’s tyranny!” the class immediately erupts into protests. “That’s completely ridiculous, he’ll be basically blind for WEEKS! And he lives in the school!”

“Are you really fine with that, Soyoyon?? Soyoyon, say something about it!”

Soyo just shrugs.

“Get over it,” Kalego sighs, settling back in his chair, “he’s a Vassago. His other senses are better than most of ours. He’s lucky, because when Veer was in school, he was quarantined for the entire month in his room because none of his senses were tame enough. Even entering rooms a teacher just left would send all the test questions into his head, he was a fucking menace.”

“Oh devi below, poor Vassago-sensei.”

Back in the staffroom, the teachers discussed the same issue.

“I feel sorry for poor Soyo-kun,” Marbas chuckles, “even walking around normally has him in eye-deficient fits. Not being able to look at any throughout the whole school day…”

“Isn’t the Student Council fine?” Murmur asks. “He can have his blindfold off in his class when Kalego-sensei isn’t around, and in the dorms… right?”

“Nah, Ameri-chan is a little involved in the examination process,” Raim says. “So the Student Council is out, too.”

“He’ll live,” Veer grumbles. “When I was in school, I was quarantined in my room the entire month. I wasn’t even allowed to go out and eat.”

“What?”

“Ahhhh,” Robin chuckles sympathetically, “your Trail’s tough, huh? Since there’s not much any of us can do about leaving traces behind. If you find a single teacher’s hair strand, there goes the entire term’s questions.”

“It’s not like I’d spread them around,” Veer is clearly holding a grudge, “but depriving me of my trail for weeks? Cruelty.”

“Sivvi was quarantined too, right?” Raim says. “Forget physical contact, she kept finding fingerprints around and that was the problem.”

“She can follow that too?”

“At least Soyo can only follow eyes! He doesn’t need to be fully locked away.”

Veer scoffs at that. “Soyo is the strange one in the family. He’s spoiled, so he never bothered training all his other senses.”

“Isn’t that a bad thing?”

“Well, we had to restrict his taste buds, and he wasn't allowed around Sivvi— so he’s never had the opportunity for any exposure. In exchange he’s twice as uncontrolled with his impulses about eyes than any of us with our trails.”

“Okay, so basically, this is 100% your family’s fault.”

“Shut up! You’ve never had to raise a child as weird as Soyo!”

While it’s normal to start with one main sense Trail in the Vassago, (Sivvi’s Touch in this case), it’s a natural progression to eventually learn how to incorporate your other senses into it all as well. (She’d learned how to identify fingerprints with a single glance, and let’s not mention she’s uncomfortably familiar with the condition of your body from the taste and odour of your sweat.)

In the family, Veer is the most adaptable— from your hair’s texture, to the fragrance of your shampoo and the remnant flavours mixed in with your body’s natural odour— he gains information equally from all senses except his hearing.

Veer has to admit. Soyo only relying on his eyes makes him a powerhouse, but he knows best the advantages of not being easily restricted.

“Enough about him,” Veer changes the subject, “back in our era they had to deal with Shichiro then, too. His ‘Buzzer’ was just as bad to handle. It was so annoying they scouted him back as a teacher for the express purpose of using it in our anti-cheating systems. In coalition we were unbeatable.”

“Don’t form a coalition! A combination like that’s insanely illegal!”

“I’m feeling sorry for the teachers that were here back then.”

“Oh no, you’re right,” Robin says. “Both of you plus Kalego-sensei.”

“Nuh-uh,” Suzy says, “both of them plus Sir Kalego plus Opera.”

“How did Babyls survive that disastrous generation?”

Meanwhile in the classroom, everyone was going through their pop quizzes to identify the nerds from the nutcases before they begin cramming.

“Huh? Soyo-kun, are your grades bad? What? Why??” Iruma’s surprised.

“But Vassago are demons that thrive from information gathering!” Asmodeus is baffled. “Answer this question right now, I’ll read it out to you. What demonic family is known as the keeper of the—”

“Dantalion.”

“I haven’t even finished the question yet!!”

Soyo proceeds. “The next one’s the Octagramic Theorem.”

“Alright, this is hopeless,” Sabnock says. “Vassago, you can’t have your eyes open during the test, you know that. Put the bandanna back on for the rest of our studying.”

Soyo head thunks onto the table.

“This isn’t good. It’s sad enough he’s blindfolded and has to be dropped off and picked up from class by the Student Council every day,” Jazz says. “But he has to take the exam in demonic braille? That is so mean.”

“There are textbooks in demonic braille?!” Iruma’s baffled when he sees the book, twice as thick as everyone else’s. “So you have to learn two whole sets of vocabulary just to take written tests?”

“You read it like this,” Soyo tells him, running his hands in a line on the pages.

It’s clear Iruma tries it immediately because he’s incredibly in awe, “woah! I can understand it!” Grandpa’s magic translates this too!

“The other option was putting him in solitary confinement for all his tests. But even then, who would be his supervising teacher? We’ll need to scour a demon without eyes.”

“What is this, cage training?”

“He’ll be looking at his test for the first time when he gets the results.”

“They could lock him in with Vassago-sensei as his proctor,” Gaap muses. The only ones to know how to reliably combat the Vassago mind-reading would be themselves, of course— “I wonder why they don’t.”

“No more,” Soyo holds his head in his hands. His hands are trembling as he sincerely pleads, “Veer is scary. No. I’ll do it in braille, don’t put me in a small room with Veer.”

“What?”

“Why do you have trauma about your brother, Soyoyon?” Lied is very concerned, “I mean, I kinda do too, but yours is on a different level.”

“Let’s not pry into the family matters,” Asmodeus says, “in a family with mental-based Bloodline Magic, it’s complicated.”

“Azz-Azz is sympathizing with Soyoyon! Now I’m even more worried!”

“Emergency meeting! Emergency meeting!” Jazz calls. “Everyone split into ‘crazy family’ and ‘healthy household’ sides, we are having therapy movie nights from now on!”

“Fucking STUDY!” Kalego howls, kicking down the door.

Soyo’s not dumb. Like, genuinely, he isn’t. He’s Netherworld police, dammit, of course he’s knowledgeable. He’s very familiar with history, politics, science— you kind of just have to get all that out of the way because you need to be competent on the field from a young age.

“You ace everything: memorisation, identifying suspects, combat training, but the second we tell you to sit down and take a test you have a mental breakdown?”

Ameri speaks to the pile of Aries Pixies in the corner of the room.

“What’s so different about this and reciting the entire Demonic legislation? You know the Human Practical Index to Legal Literature from cover to cover, too,” Ameri says. “Just think of the test as that.”

“I recite those tests, I don’t sit down and write essays on them,” comes a pouty voice from deep within the mounds of the fluffy trashpile. “In a room full of eyes I can’t look at, sitting on an uncomfortable chair, looking at a boring piece of empty paper the whole time. I don’t like writing things. I like information. I don’t like giving any.”

Ameri had a lot of things to say against all of that, but they all died when Soyo reached his last sentence.

“You Vassago and your chronic secrecy disease,” Ameri sighs. “You’re lucky to just be blindfolded. You do know Vassago Sivvi could read information even in handwriting. So much, even typing it all through a computer didn’t work. She knew the answers and who coined the questions the moment she saw them. So she took her test restrained to a chair with the questions read out to her. Would you prefer that.”

Soyo hates that.

The whole ‘you’re lucky it’s not worse’ thing people seem to think is assurance— it sickens him, on a personal level. And maybe because he’s learned how to loosen the rules around his head, he knows he has to obey, but the frustration remains.

Maybe it’s because this rule rings home to his past life.

(He still hates it, though.)

(It takes great lengths for the Vassago to be evaluated academically. But they still do it anyway, because nurturing the youth is part of fitting into society.)

(Even though the Vassago should be beyond the scope of these trivial tests.)

(The Vassago still allow themselves to be put on their level.)

(This was their choice, as a family. Soyo is not obligated to follow it, but they always do, anyway— Veer even returned to teach.)

(The Vassago could be so much more. But they aren’t. Maybe, Soyo will never understand what Father is thinking.)

(That’s ironic.)

“No one can force a Vassago to give up information,” Soyo insists. “I get to choose what I want to do and what I don’t.”

But Father is slowly, surely, loosening his chains, and pushing him towards independence. This time, it’s Soyo that’s afraid of letting go. Because beyond the boundaries of Father’s rules, he doesn’t know for sure if he’s doing things of his own will, or if he’s simply obeying any order that comes his way like a lost puppy.

“Yes,” Ameri says. “You can do whatever you want, Soyo. But you’re still trying to figure out what's worth hiding and what's not. And through it all… you’ll always have me.”

When Ameri reaches into the pile and picks up Soyo to let him sprawl over her lap, she pats him gently on the head and rubs his cheeks dearly.

And Soyo, curling in, decides that’s good enough for him.

Dogs are pack animals, after all. Maybe that’s why the Vassago are a mess of contradictions, and they always seem to do things that go against their own nature, for the sake of staying with company.

The Vassago could be so much more. But they aren’t.

The Vassago could be wayward, they could be dangerous, but they chose to be a part of the law, governed and controlled.

(And as Soyo clung to Ameri and slept— deep inside, he understood why that was so.)

(They’d been domesticated.)

Maybe that’s fine.

It’s pathetic, and he makes a fool of himself with his silly whimsies, to the command of these weaker demons that aren’t even his match.

But pathetic is fine.

(Right?)

It’s different from his past life. He’s not cowering because he’s weak— he’s simply tame. He’s strong, but he chooses to be helpful. He’s no longer rotting away in a room in the corner of the house, doing nothing but indulge in things that bring no merit to the world.

Now, Soyo is a demon, and he’s being very helpful to Nether society.

He doesn’t need to be anything more. Sure, he can be, but when was he ever obliged to be? He can just stay here and continue being a member of Netherworld security forever. His ambition does not contradict his desire to stay here.

(That’s fine, right?)

Staying here, having fun, forever… never changing. Following someone else’s guide, but never lost. Secure, and mundane, and never in danger until…

…until he dies again, at the end of this life. 

Yeah, that's fine. 

“Is that your answer?”

Soyo’s wearing his blindfold. There is no one else in his dorm room. But that’s his father’s voice, and it’s coming from the window that’s now open.

Soyo doesn’t move to remove his blindfold.

And Father does not come closer.

It’s the first time they're in each others’ vicinity since Soyo’s Wicked Phase tore the rules apart, but now— now Soyo doesn’t want to look. He doesn’t want to look, and he doesn’t want to be seen.

“Take your time, Soyo,” Father tells him. “You don't have to decide so quickly where you stand, and what you want to do. No matter what your choice is— if you truly wish for it, no one, not even I, am qualified to stop you.”

It’s such a strange feeling.

Father’s thoughts are always clear and genuine, even if there’s so much Soyo can never hope to reach with just his vision. And now, without seeing, it still doesn’t feel all that different.

Maybe Father was always so far out of reach, Soyo could never fathom it to begin with.

“You’re not going to make sure?”

Soyo doesn’t know why he asks that.

Usually, by this point— there’s a pat on the head, a tender caress across his cheek, and a kiss on the bridge of his nose, a brush of their ears against each other’s.

Father doesn’t take a single step closer.

“No,” he says. “I can’t do that anymore. You’ve finally grown up too, Soyo… So, my job here is done. Now, I’m free.”

When he leaves, Soyo’s heart is cold and empty, and there’s something in him that screams in fear. When he drags out his blindfold and runs for the window, Father is long gone, and there’s no one in his vicinity.

Somehow, he just understood that he wouldn’t see his Father again.

Soyo can do anything he wants. He can run, he can play, and he can have fun. He’s strong, capable, and he can do whatever he wants.

(But is he free?)

Chapter Text

Studying with everyone is fun and all, but end of terminus means something slightly different to Soyo than it does to the rest of his class. 

It’s the stress relief period to prevent demons from succumbing to their stress and going buck wild— but for the Vassago, who have a switch for their Wicked Cycles, their vacation days are to their own discretion. 

Meaning, they have to work through the holidays, no bonus. 

(Though, if they were to be pedantic, going to school would be considered Soyo’s vacation time from work. Now, he’s just going back.)

“I do have the day off most of the summer holidays after the first week…” Ameri’s troubled. “Are you sure you don’t want me to put a word in?” She could always say she wants him by her side, then he’ll get to skip work indefinitely. That’s what Kalego does for Veer all the time. That guard dog of Babyls does know how to play hard, despite being a petty prick that gives triple summer vacation homework. 

Soyo frowns. 

“I’m fine. I’ll work.” 

He pulls on the Vassago detection-warding hood, stepping out of Ameri’s room through the window. Soyo stayed in the school dorms so far to accompany Ameri in wrapping up the last of the term’s work— but he’ll head home from now. 

(Without anyone to maintain that house, who knows what will happen… Soyo doesn’t know the secrets of the family, but he has a bad feeling about keeping it cold for long.)

(Also, there's a family reunion dinner tomorrow, and he needs to hide his Kuromu merch.)

“You can call me if you need me,” Ameri says. 

Soyo doesn't intend to. 

“I can handle myself. Ameri, go have fun.” 

And that’s where End of Terminus goes for Soyo. Working with Netherland public safety is interesting, even if a bit of a pain. He gets out, he does his job, and he comes home— it’s a strange experience for someone who’s never had a nine to five in his past life. 

It’s humbling. 

It’s— for lack of a better word— honestly humanizing to him. 

He spreads his wings and heads off to his next assignment, the demonitor trailing right behind him, and he wonders if this mundanity was worth all the suffering in his past. 

Will he one day be able to live without the shadow of his past creeping up on him? Soyo doesn’t know. Each time he thinks he’s grown, he has to put on his brace again, and he’s reminded that things will always linger. 

They’ll never truly go away. 

He can live as many lives as he wants. His experiences are his own, and his soul is still trying to grow, trying to improve. His soul is made up of his experiences, and he can’t ever tell himself they never existed. 

That’s why, even as he brings himself to a new groove in his work— it comes. 

“It’s from Dad,” Van tells him, the box set on the table. Sivvi does not attend these dinners, and Father is predictably absent. Veer peruses his nails on his seat as the servants set up their meal. 

Soyo can’t sense a single thing from this box. It’s pristine, but he knows from the smell that his father did not personally prepare this. It was entrusted and arranged by someone he ordered around, and they fulfilled his requests well. 

He must have been busy, surely. 

“May I open it now?” 

“Of course.” 

The ribbons unfurl and the box flutters apart. What remains is a cold metal with the weight of the world upon them, and it sits so perfectly in his hand, it’s like it’s never left. 

“CM Morini 162 El,” Soyo identifies the pistol in his hand easily. It’s not his first choice, but he’s not about to be picky. 

When he rises, neither Van nor Veer stop him, and that’s why, when Soyo raises his hand to the far wall, where a vase of flowers rested pristine as the butler has replaced just this morning—

Breathe in, and;

—a single shot shatters it to dust. 

“That’s not supposed to happen.” The water is a mess against the leaves and the shards, and some of the flowers were blown apart at its stems. 

But then again, it’s a human world weapon in the Netherworld. Father must have done something to it, to make it more viable for the field in demonics. It’s also hardly as loud as it’s supposed to be, which is still too loud for Van, but it’s something. 

“I take it you like your present,” Veer muses. 

“The technology is spreading into the realm very quickly now,” Van informs him. “Father got the clearance for it only recently, but the mechanism is spreading in entertainment. Its potential as artillery will take longer yet. Yours is the one exception.” 

Ah, privileges. But honestly, Soyo would like this dangerous thing to never make it out to society. But then again, he’s the one that urged this process, so he can’t complain. 

Getting shot by one of these would hurt. It’s not what Soyo wants to do with it, and he definitely doesn’t plan on ever doing that— but getting shot by one of these would hurt. 

It’s cathartic, being able to hold and aim and wield a one-handed gun again, and actually hit his targets. It’s a great feeling. Almost dreamlike to him. 

When he gets back to his seat, Veer is behind him, frowning. “I don’t think I like the idea of letting you run with it. This is dangerous aimed at anyone .” 

Soyo looks up, into his brother’s eyes. 

Veer takes the gun from him, his other hand resting on Soyo’s hair— and there’s a deep sigh. He pushes Soyo’s bangs down and covers his eyes with his hand too, clearly uncomfortable. 

“Is Dad even sure about this? What is he even thinking?”

“Soyo gets to choose what he wants to do with it,” Van says. “It’s his choice if he’ll keep it from now, or if he’ll lock it away forever because he’s scared of it.” 

It’s Soyo’s choice. 

“Tell him thanks for me,” Soyo relents instead. 

He’s happy about the gift. He really is. 

Maybe one day, he’ll be able to hold it proudly, and there won’t be that haunting coldness in his chest each time he pulls the trigger.

“What do you think you’re doing?” 

Soyo’s about to head out for work when Kalego interrupts him at his front door. He’s not allowed to enter the estate, but Soyo is still very surprised he took the risk to come as close as the gates. 

“...I have assignments?” 

Today’s call is a trip to the lawless district… something about there being a syndicate there suspecting a bigger plan involving the Six Fingers, or something. They found contracts and written plans half-burned. It’s rather urgent. 

Kalego reaches up to Soyo’s hood— and in one motion so fluid he couldn’t even react, the hood is off, folded, and deposited on top of Nikon’s head. Soyo’s wearing his clan training gear underneath— a sleeveless tank and cargo pants down to boots— along with the clan bell. Kalego frowns at all this before a single snap of a finger earns Soyo a complete wardrobe change. 

Soyo barely owns any white clothing, much less techwear. It all gets in the way of his work, and jeans just make his brace stand out like a sore thumb. And then the imbalanced sneakers made to fit his weird foot and—

—and Soyo’s not allowed to wear White. For a variety of reasons. 

Soyo’s protests die as he registers the smell on them. They’re from Veer. 

That makes sense. Veer is telling him that he’s not allowed to work today. He’s just Soyo today— and today, his job is to have fun. Or something. Veer is sentimental like that. 

“Your brother will take over all your jobs today,” Kalego says. “He’s assigned me to babysit you, but since I have to be subjected to the misery of your classmates today, you now have to come, too.” 

Soyo needs a moment to register all that. 

“Come? Where?”

“Don’t be a fool,” Kalego scowls. “You should’ve worked that information out the second you saw me. Why are you waiting for a verbal answer?” 

Soyo blinks. 

And then— “we’re going to Walter Park?” 

Despite Kalego’s complaining, he was filled with excitement when he saw the students. Specifically, he was excitedly thinking of how to torment these insolent brats as they crumble and wail something about how summer vacation with the devil himself was going to be awful. 

Soyo, however, currently sitting on Balam Shichiro’s shoulders and getting cuddled to cloud nine, decided to just leave his classmates to their fate. 

“WAIT!” Jazz and Lied realize midway through their escape. A violent point, “Soyoyon!” 

“SOYOYON FOUND!” Clara shrieks, launching from the ground right onto Balam and then onto Soyo’s back, locking him between Clara and Balam-sensei’s arms,  “SOYOYON SECURED!” 

“Don’t let him get away!” Asmodeus orders. 

“On it!” Gaap launches with his katana in hand. 

Soyo barely has a moment to brace himself before he’s stuck in a headlock and pinned to the ground by a bunch of teenagers. 

“Where have you BEEN?! Do you have any idea how hard we tried to find your estate to harass you about coming out to play?!” Sabnock roars. 

“I wanted to show you my catalogue of Akudols,” Caim says, very upset, “here was a page about iris patterns and colours for merchandise. I thought you, a fellow man of culture, would understand me. But you were nowhere to be found!” 

Lied is vehement . “All my plans! Ruined! Because you just never showed up anywhere even though you’re always everywhere!” 

“We’ve missed you!” Elizabetta says. 

“What kind of dumbass spends End-of-Terminus working?” Asmodeus groans, “that’s literally the exact opposite of what it’s meant to be!” 

“Work hard and play hard!” Gaap says. “I’m glad you could make it today!” 

“You’re going to play all day here with us today!” Iruma declares, “it’s not good to be swamped with work all the time! Trust me when I say it!” 

“Uh,” Soyo’s honestly baffled. How does he tell all of them he was only dragged here?

“You guys are so noisy this early in the morning,” Agares groans. “Vassago. My Shishou caught one of these, take it.” 

Soyo gets to stand up for all of a moment, to find an Aries Pixie deposited in his hand. It whines and rolls in his hand, pleading to be put back into the flying nimbus from cuddly land, and Agares grumbles something, curling back into his bedding. 

“It’s been stealing my space in Shishou for the past week,” he mutters, sourly, “if you didn’t show up to take it home I’d have put it in a mousetrap!” 

Cruel! Soyo gasps, clutching his baby Aries to his chest, how could he ever insinuate something like that! Soyo pats down on his now trembling little sheep, oh dear it’s okay, I won’t abandon you, don’t listen to that terrible monster—

“Silence!’ Kalego groans. “You guys can’t settle for a damned second!” 

There’s laughter from Balam and an amused snicker from Opera, but now everyone is fighting for Soyo’s attention. Something about Soyo Deficiency, and how Clara’s hogging him to hell. 

“Speaking of settling,” Opera says, turning to Balam, “I’m surprised Veer allowed you to walk around after your new hairstyle. I like it, but I can’t believe he took it well.” 

“He was very cross with me,” Balam says, sulking. “But he cheered up after I gave him all the hair that was cut off. Good thing I saved it.” 

Kalego balks. “Why did you give him that?! His collection is getting really weird!” 

“Because if I didn’t, he would have cried in the corner of the room every day until it grew back. Which would be a while. You would hate that too.” 

Kalego grimaces. He’s right. 

“But he was in a good mood, wasn’t he?” Opera asks. “After all, he was nice enough to take a job so far away so his younger brother could have an excuse to come to an amusement park.”

“He said he had a bad feeling about the Six Fingers being mentioned. Something about how they must be planning something farther…” Kalego sighs. 

“Ah, I see,” Balam says. “I suppose that’s why Sivvi went, too.”  

Kalego nods. “But that’s the issue for the Vassago to figure out. Our job is to distract Soyo so he doesn’t get involved.” 

Soyo appreciates their kindness, but he hoped they would’ve done that at least another ten meters away from him. Because now it’s going to be immensely awkward as he tries to pretend he did not just hear everything. 

It’s fine, honestly. Walter Park will end well, even if he doesn’t get involved. Why should he? He hardly knows about the political thought process of whatever the Six Fingers are up to, and surely, their rebellion is vital to eventually heft Iruma up as King. 

He’ll just go with the flow, like it was with the Battler Party. 

(But is that enough?)

He seems to be asking himself that question a lot recently. 

Soyo may seek the thrill, but he’s not about to put himself in danger. He doesn’t particularly care for the peace of the Netherworld. And while he likes Iruma, the world is aligned so Iruma will always come out victorious. 

Sure, the world has changed due to the existence of the Vassago— but the Vassago’s code of not getting involved has kept the world similar to what it’s supposed to be. 

Soyo should continue that. Live, like he’s invisible, until it all comes and ends. 

(Is that really fine?)

(...didn’t you want there to be more to your life than this?)

“The park’s opening! Come on, let’s go!” Iruma pulls him by the arm, and Soyo can’t help but follow his lead. His steps falter, but Jazz pushes him forward. 

“Hey,” he wonders, “am I a workaholic?” 

There's a laugh from Lied, “you definitely are!” 

“I’m glad someone can drag you out of it all,” Ameri chuckles, “though, I’ll be lying if I said I wasn’t surprised to see you here, too. Let’s just spend today enjoying the park, alright, Soyo?” 

“Am I a good boy, then?” 

Ameri blinks at that. She pats him on the head and laughs. “Yeah, you’re always a good boy!” 

Soyo smiles. “Okay, then.” 

It’s always nice to be obedient, well-behaved, and indulgent. After all, this was the life he was bestowed, in order to be happy again. He’s a domesticated little puppy, and he adores it all, being surrounded by so much love. 

(Except…)

“Welcome to Walter Park!” 

(Except, Soyo isn’t just a dog. He’s a demon dog — and they’re not made to be beings of justice, kindness and mundanity.)

(He’s a demon.)

(And demons do not sit in a box, waiting to be told what to do. Demons are beings inherently chaotic by nature, and if there’s something that’s inevitable in all demons— it’s the Wicked Phase, a cry of their nature’s very instincts, bursting forth.)

(Soyo is a good boy. He always is. But just for today, this vacation day he’d worked so hard for— he’s going to be a bad, bad boy.)

(If he gets scolded… well, they’ll forgive him if he cries, right?)

(He’s kind of excited for that.)

“It’s Ron-OO-VEEEAAGYAHHHH?!?!! SOY-O SAUC’E!” 

Ronove shrieks from his spot atop the parade float, flinching so dramatically away from Soyo that he nearly bowls right off the edge into the wheels of his own majesty.

“You are not good for Ronove’s heart,” Ronove mutters sourly, still in position for escape but having calmed down some. “Oh please! Do not approach Ronove, you mustn’t!” Gasping theatrically, “Ronove shines like the sun today! You must not dull his sparkle!” 

Ah, the translation: he’s currently covered in glitter. 

Soyo’s honestly very surprised Ronove remembers he’s allergic. He doesn’t seem the type to remember such considerations about others… huh? Come to think of it, this wouldn’t be the first time. Is Ronove actually a kind guy? 

Well, whatever. 

“Ronove-senpai, can I have the key to the basement?” 

“What? You want to go on Ronove’s favourite Hyper-Secret Dangerous Tour?” 

“Uhn,” he steps closer. “Soyo wants to play.” 

“I found it, Veer~” 

“Ah, you did?” Veer steps out from the room, smearing away the red on his cheeks and shrugging off his stained gloves. “Thank you.” 

Sivvi giggles in the midst of the documents, holding up a single one to her much, much taller big brother. With a grin, she teases, “so, do you love me?” 

“Not really, but you’re useful,” his cold words made Sivvi whine loudly. But he avoids the papers, instead reaching for her head, running his bare hands gently through her hair, before leaning in to take in the nice fragrance from it. 

Sivvi giggles. “I worked really hard! Whoever wrote this Returned to Origins. Their thoughts are pretty hard to actually read without going crazy,” she says. “But I found out what they’re planning next!” 

“Liar,” Veer mutters. “You found much more. You’re not letting me learn any more of them…. Hey, enough of that,” he snaps, “give it.” 

“Don’t wanna!” Sivvi giggles, jumping in for a hug only to be quickly dodged as Veer saunters off to the other side of the room in desperation. “You’re so stingy!” 

“I said no touching!” 

“And yet you want information from me. You’re not fair at all!” 

“Talk about fair when you stop hiding information I want!” Veer groans. “Just because you’ve got more magic than me… agh, fine, fine take it!” 

He plants his palm on Sivvi’s head and pushes her away. 

She giggles, “you’re so shy, Veer! You know I don’t… eh?” 

“Wait…” Veer’s hand trails down the side of Sivvi’s head, and they make a confused noise at the very same moment. 

The horror takes them simultaneously. 

“Walter Park?” Veer curses, “that’s where—!” 

“Why didn’t you tell me you sent Soyo there?!” Sivvi groans, reaching for her bell, “at least he doesn’t seem to be in danger yet, but of all the places…” 

Veer curses against, kicking down a stack of papers. 

“Dammit, I’m gonna kill that bastard in there. You go home and watch the house!” 

“And what?” Sivvi sighs. “You’re gonna jump in and save Soyo again? He’s a Vassago, so it’s his choice what he’s going to do now.” 

“Even then—” 

“Don’t spoil him!” 

Veer had to reel back at that. He can’t believe Sivvi’s the one telling him this. 

“You have your domain, and I have mine. We don’t touch Van’s, and Father never touches ours,” Sivvi says. “Those are the rules.” 

Veer bites his tongue at that. 

“Now, Walter Park is Soyo’s domain. He gets to decide what happens, in accordance with the information he gathers on his end,” Sivvi says. “We can’t interfere anymore. But your job now is to take these papers and tell Border Control and the Thirteen Greats what’s happening. That’s all. You know this, Veer!” 

Veer averts his eyes. 

“It’s too much for him. What if he needs our help? What if he gets hurt? He may have enough magic to qualify higher than his current rank, but for all that matters, he’s only capable of Gimel[3] rank abilities right now!” 

“And so?” 

That nonchalant question is terrifying to Veer, but Sivvi had said it so easily, he was almost afraid he was the unreasonable one. 

“If he is hurt, then we go comfort him after it’s done,” Sivvi says. “It would be his own fault, for not wisely stepping away from battle to begin with.” 

“...and if he dies?”

“Then he does.” 

It’s terrifying. 

Veer hates Sivvi, he really does. She can say cruel things so simply, and turn around to pretend she’s so much kinder than she truly is. She never understands anyone around her, trapped in this war-torn mentality from so young, she has never learned how to care for others beyond how they’ve been able to amuse her. 

That’s why she’s never allowed near Soyo. 

Sivvi may be the one most eligible to succeed as the next Vassago head, but it’s for all the wrong reasons. Someone as sensitive and dear as Soyo can never be allowed near her, lest she destroys him just the same way she tore down all of their other relatives to seize her current position in the family. 

“You know, too, Veer, that you can’t survive if either of you stay so weak. Honestly, I think we should keep the Six Fingers’ activity to ourselves. But that’s for you to decide.”

Veer tries to take it all. In. The agenda, the motive, and the culprit— as the Vassago currently are, can they afford to make enemies? They’ve always been ones to obey, to observe, and to only do strictly what they were told and holding the secrets that they weren’t asked. They’ve never been the type to make enemies or cultivate allies. 

“They want to remake the Netherworld,” he bargains. 

“Yeah,” Sivvi says, reaching for her coat, getting ready to leave. “The Vassago would thrive in that remade world. So, what’s the problem?” 

Sivvi is not anyone’s ally but her own.  

She’s definitely the one most worthy of the Vassago name, in the worst way possible. 

The thing about the Vassagos is that they’re not very well understood. That’s reasonable, considering people are wary of them for knowing too much. They’re wildly unhelpful unless it’s beneficial to them, they don’t understand boundaries, and most of all, they withhold information that could be immediately harmful to you for their own amusement. And because of this privilege, no matter what they do, they get forgiven. 

If there’s anyone that would hate Vassagos with all of their guts, it would of course, be the punishers of the law. 

In Soyo’s current case, prison wardens. 

“So… you think that just because you’re waltzing in with the symbol of the Vassagos and the young master Ronove in tow, we’ll let you just waltz in with a guided tour?” 

Ronove clearly usually gets flowers and sparkles of welcome, so he’s very baffled by the lack of hospitality. He’s hiding behind Soyo, hands trembling on Soyo’s shoulders despite being a few feet taller. 

Soyo’s expressions are completely unfazed. 

The Chief Warden scowls at him. 

And Soyo decides to be upfront, “this place will be raided soon. The prisoners won’t break out, but you will be defeated, and they will retrieve the most dangerous prisoner, destroy the park, and leave victorious.” 

There’s a sharp spike of anger in those eyes as the Chief Warden roars , “you dare mock the pride of our security? I’ve been working here with my iron ruling for longer than you’ve been alive, you insolent mutt!” 

Soyo’s tail wags comfortably. 

“Alright, I’ll do my own thing, then.” 

Never let it be known that Vassagos aren’t helpful. They just couldn’t be bothered most of the time, even if they tried. The commonfolk can’t comprehend just believing things without proof or prompt, even if they understand it’s the Bloodline Ability of the Vassago. 

After all, it’s hard to fully trust Vassago in the first place.

Even if they did have such amazing abilities, who’s to say they won’t make up lies to trick you anyways? It’s happened before. It’s why they can never be one of the Thirteen Greats. They’re too risky to put your faith on, yet too dangerous to let loose. 

“Soyo-sauc’e dear, you’re done here?” 

Ronove stumbles, concerned by the tension here. It’s better Soyo removes himself from this place before the prison guards get truly unsettled, but he does feel guilty that he’d promised a tour and they have to leave without one. 

“Yeah,” Soyo says. “I’m going to go have fun. It’s not like anything’s a threat to me.” 

(He already knows everything that’s going to happen. What’s there to fear?)

Ronove blinks, but Soyo slips on the hood of his white jacket. It must have had Detection Warding imbued upon it, as most Vassago wardrobe are commissioned to— so, he’s gone, and Ronove is only momentarily miffed before deciding to return to his parade. 

It takes him another hour of basking in attention before he realizes the key to the prison is gone. 

One of the Vassago family codes is to trust only yourself.

They’re always put in situations where they’ll be pit against each other— the whole ‘fighting each other’ tradition is even in the crux of their family succession— so it’s normal for Vassago to offer no helpful information in times of crisis. 

“That’s the main flaw of the Vassago Family, you see. That’s why, even if you know a Vassago is headed your way, as long as you stay calm— they’re never a threat.” 

Ami Kirio chuckles as he finds a gorgeous pair of ruby reds beyond the bars of his cell. 

“I’m so honoured you took the time to come meet me, Soyo-kun!” 

Soyo looks in, and he can’t help the way his skin crawls at the reflection in those strange teals. Kirio smiles, wide and smug, and he hides not a single thing.

Any demon may hide things that can’t be seen by Vassago magic. It’s not a special skill— it’s an unconscious mental defense caused by the discrepancy between their magics. Soyo may be able to read a fair amount with just eye contact, but if the demon he’d targeted truly wished to hide something, Soyo wouldn’t be able to read a thing of it, simply because his magic is much weaker. 

Soyo looks into Kirio’s eyes, and Kirio hides nothing. 

Nothing, and the stench makes Soyo’s body react instantly with volatile disgust, and physically he churns with a sickness that burns through the magic in his veins. 

Reflexively, he squeezes his eyes shut and avoids that gaze. 

This is a demon that’s Returned to Origins, and it’s much more than Soyo can stomach— now that he realizes that, he’d confronted with the fact that he’s just inserted himself in something much more than he could handle. 

“Oh, did you need to see a little more?” Kirio asks, arms looping over the cell bars. “Don’t worry! Go ahead and see all our plans before you go… crushing you fair and square is part of the thrill, after all!” 

(He already knows everything that’s going to happen. And there is everything to fear, because now, he’ll know every detail of how helpless he’s going to be.)

This is what it means to become an independent demon. 

(Ah… Soyo’s been naive.)

(But honestly? He’s about to have the time of his life.)

“You’re so ugly, Kirio-senpai,” Soyo chuckles, hoping his eyes won’t bleed red today. 

“I’m flattered you think so,” Kirio swoons, “you’ve gotten more beautiful since the last time I saw you, though! I almost want to invite you to become one of us! Come on, don’t you agree? Don’t you just want to let loose?” 

Kirio leans into the bars and whispers quickly, excitedly, 

“If you’d just join us, you can have as many eyes as you want. Whoever, whenever— you can let those delicious demonic instincts of yours run wild! Isn’t that a dream come true?” 

It’s tempting. Soyo hates to admit it, but it’s so tempting. 

Kirio giggles and giggles, like he knows. And he’s right.  “Aren’t you tired of being a good boy all the time?”

Soyo can't help the smile crawling up his face. He gulps, and tries his best not to make it so obvious he's salivating at the mere thought of it all. When his voice emerges, it's filled with such enthusiasm, nothing could have prevented it. 

“Uhn,” he steps closer. “Soyo wants to play.”

Chapter Text

Walter Park has the odd experience of Vassago Soyo running around doing hit-n-runs on their staff.

“oH devi what on earth—!!”

“[Attention Walter Staff! Attention Walter Staff! Currently there is a rogue demon assaulting staffmembers! It’s a student, he’s wearing a white jacket, and he has a bell around his neck! Staff members are advised to distance themselves from guests right now! If you can see him, you’re next!]”

Just as Jazz registers that parkwide announcement, someone plunges into the tent of their shooting gallery, and the stallkeep barely raises his arm up to defend against that sharpened heel.

Lied’s jaw drops. Kalego rises from his chair with an urgency—

—but all Kalego could realize was that Soyo had nailed the man with his braced foot. It was always more painful, heavier, the metal coating a serious blow that broke bones or at least bruised. It knocks his helmet off.

That was a serious kick.

(Soyo may be enthusiastic about strange things, he was in the Student Council full of crazy bastards— but that was a serious kick.)

“What are you doing, Soyoyon?!” Lied exclaims, and Jazz echoes with a shriek, Gaap pulling them all back quickly. “Storekeep! Mister, you okay?!”

“Where the hell did he even come from—” Jazz balks.

“I couldn’t even see him!” Gaap hisses, “it’s going to collapse!”

“Back up! Back up! Calm down boy!” Camui’s descended into trying to negotiate, “SIT BOY??? It’s not working you little fucker you’re not listening at all are you?!” he’s impatient very quickly. “He’s turned off his ears!”

“That’s not how ears work,” Lied says.

Jazz’s flustered, “Soyoyon!! Did someone steal your eye collection or something? WHAT? We gotta stop him—!”

“Kalego-sensei!” Gaap calls.

The battle’s on. Soyo’s foot is grabbed, but instead of pulling away, Soyo lunges forward and wraps his hands, both of them, around the man’s skull.

And he brings their faces together. Blood red against deep red.

“You’re Atori,” Soyo breathes, eye inches from the man’s. “Play with me.”

The declaration shocks his classmates. Of course it would— this had come out of completely nowhere. Before Soyo could make good on his fury, though—

—Maemaro, the skeleton demon also manning the shooting gallery, interferes. His body shatters into bones, and they come at Soyo from all directions, knocking him off Atori and smashing him against the booth’s structures, shattering it and sending them flying across the gravel.

Soyo clambers upright once more— but he doesn’t have time before he’s knocked across the jaw by a soaring bone piece, and the next one drags him against a wall and pins him up by his throat. Few more jet over to nail his loose clothing against the wall, and all is silent.

Atori sighs.

“Damn, that gave me a fright!” there’s a smile he’s trying so hard to suppress on his features, a laugh bubbling out of his throat more sincere than he thinks a normal demon should sound. “There there puppy. Did you have your shots, because I’m not looking forward to getting any diseases.”

Atori nurses the bleeding scratch on his cheek and grins, a curl of fury in his chest. It’s definitely going to leave a scar.

“Soyoyon!” Lied rushes over, “geez, what’s gone over you— Kalego-sensei?”

Kalego holds out a hand to stop the students from approaching. He hasn’t called Cerberus yet, and that baffles the students even more.

Kalego sighs, deeply. “Dumb mutt. I told him he could have a day off today, and he goes and does this… workaholics, this entire family…”

“Wha— Kalego-sensei! Why are you stopping us?” Gaap asks.

“Come to think of it, whose team was Soyo supposed to be in?” Jazz frowns. “Even then, he should calm down if we just—”

“Promise we’ll look after him and make sure he doesn’t cause anymore trouble!” Lied bargains. “Don’t go locking him up!”

“Yeah! That’ll just make him even more irate,” Camui agrees.

“That’s not it,” Kalego groans, still not letting them step any further. “He’s dangerous right now. And when it comes to the Vassago, you have to know…”

Atori steps toward Soyo, chuckling. “Alright, we got the rogue demon. Let’s report back to security and—”

Kalego turns back toward him with resignation.

“The Vassago can’t be judged by the law. Only by their handlers.”

Soyo shatters the bones holding him back with only his strength, roaring, teeth bared.

Atori jerks backward, but not quickly enough. The claws come at his eyes as his senses remain at the freeze point— and he knows, raw in his soul, that he can’t avoid it.

So, Atori stays still.

He stays still— and savours it.

Savours the moment those fingers dug into his eye socket and ripped right through flesh and nerves, blood vessels crunching through his skull as Vassago Soyo tore his eye right out of its socket.

Soyo laughs.

A light, excited giggle, his hand streaked with blood and black and clutching an eyeball. He licked his fingers, smearing blood to the edge of his lips and he smiles wider.

“It’s so ugly!” he exclaims, “it’s red, but it’s the ugliest red ever!”

Standing bowed, Atori’s hand is an inch away from his now empty eye socket, cradling the gash where fingers gouged through.

He lifts his head, slowly.

Furious.

A dangerous grin on his face that sends chills down Soyo’s face, and Soyo can’t help but squeal with excitement.

“That’s it!” Soyo beams, he knew it was the right choice. Of course, this was the right choice— who else would go wild and be the most fun in the world? A demon on the crest of Origins that wouldn’t fucking hesitate, that’s what. “Play with m—”

Atori charges at him so quickly Soyo can’t react to the next blow.

It happens so quickly, Kalego curses his lack of foresight. He should’ve covered the eyes of these four morons because now they’re looking shellshocked at the carnage, completely unused to the way Vassagos worked on the field.

“I knew it…” Kalego breathes out, composure withheld, “Soyo’s limiters are off, too. Veer, that bastard… I told him not to spoil Soyo, and look what’s happening now…”

This happens every year. The Vassagos need handlers— and the Vassagos are wolves that do everything they want. They don’t have allies, because their morals are on the fence, and they never divulge their secrets to anyone. They are on no one’s side.

Needless to say, even in school— Vassagos don’t tend to keep their friends.

As charming as they can be at first glance, once the other demons see this side of the Vassago, they inevitably steer clear. It happened to Veer, and it’ll happen to Soyo.

(Vassagos are always alone.)

(Soyo will definitely be distraught. He treasures his friends so much, and now they’re all scared of him…)

“K- Kalego-sensei!” that’s the four stooges, clinging to his clothing, tears in their eyes. “You gotta— we gotta help Soyoyon! Kalego-sensei, what should we do?”

Huh?

“Look at him!” Lied’s terrified. Not of Soyo, but for Soyo, “he’s getting thrown into buildings! Shouldn’t we stop that Mister?!”

“He’s not holding back at all!” Jazz gasps, “who DOES that!”

“I mean, he does have a lot of reason to be mad but that’s overkill!” Camui groans, “they’re destroying Walter Park!”

“Vassago-kuun!!!” Gaap shouts in horror when Atori comes out of the dome building clutching Soyo by the head and he chucks him toward the ground frighteningly limp, “that’s enough! That’s enouuughhh!!”

And that’s why Kalego can’t even be mad at them.

“Fine.”

“Huh,” all four of them gawk at him.

“What are you waiting for? We’re here to have fun,” Kalego says. “That’s why we’re at this amusement park. Soyo’s doing great at this having fun shit. Learn from his example.”

“Huh???”

“The four of you better hurry up and figure out what he wants before we start seeing brain matter on the ground. That’s significantly harder to explain than eyeballs.”

“HUUUHHH??”

Kalego grins down at them, firm and furious, “consider this the supplementary lesson on combat and magic you fools were meant to get this summer.”

They scream as they run for Soyo.

“ADULTS ARE USELESS! GET HIM!”

Gaap gets there first, a blast of wind in his sword deflecting the attack just once— “Get him! He’s light enough to be picked up anyways!”

Jazz runs for Atori’s blind spot to scoop Soyo right up out of the ground, “Stop that guy! Lied! Steal his sight!”

Lied does it all so quickly, “I can take an ear, too!” good on Soyo for decreasing that man’s sight to half. “Oh he barged into the avian observatory!”

“Then it’s my turn!” Camui calls for birds, a horde of crows descending on them obscuring their vision— and then a particularly large demoneagle scoops them up into the air.

Soyo whines, clinging to Jazz’s shoulder and head. “You guys are no funnnn!!”

“Eck,” Jazz winces, wrapping his arms around Soyo tighter. Which honestly isn’t that hard. “He’s in his Wicked Phase! Again?!”

“What? Why??”

“We need to get him back to his senses first!” Jazz decides, taking Soyo by the chin and—

“Jazz-kun, don’t!” Camui yells.

Gaap barely rips Soyo away from Jazz before Soyo bites his fingers right off. It grazes his palm, though, leaving a streak of blood in its wake.

“Don’t reach for the jaws of an agitated mutt,” Camui chastises.

Gaap holds Soyo down easily, elbow around Soyo’s neck, the other around his stomach to press him into Gaap’s bigger figure. It seems like they’re safe As long as they don’t put fingers near his mouth.

Jazz’s breath stumbles, clutching his hand. “R- right.”

Right now, showing Soyo some pretty eyes would do the opposite of calm him down.

“It’s a good thing Soyoyon’s small,” Lied groans, trying to focus on stealing Atori’s senses, “we can restrain him easily— unlike that guy holy shit, did stealing his sight and smell slow him down at all? Should I go for his ears?”

“Better not. Your mana’s not infinite,” Camui says.

“For now, we need to buy time until the Student Council President gets here!” Gaap says.

“Nooo, don’t call Ameriii!!” Soyo whines. “I need her where she is! It’s dangerous! He doesn’t have what I need to find!”

“Huh?”

“Ah,” Soyo spins around even in Gaap’s hold and ends up with his hands on Gaap’s shoulders, pushing himself up to look over his head into the distance. “Iruma.”

“Huh—” Lied’s focus is broken.

“Hold on, did you just say Iruma’s here—” Jazz is interrupted again as they realize Atori’s loose. Neither of them can react when the hands are right above them.

Instincts screamed.

And Jazz blows on the whistle around his neck so hard, everyone jerked back.

Atori even more so, with his hearing abruptly returned by Lied— and with that one moment of falter, Kalego scoops them back with Cerberus, pulling them behind the hound familiar with a sigh.

“That was decent,” Kalego says.

Gaap’s legs can no longer stay upright.

“I think my life just flashed before my eyes…” Jazz whispers. “Holy shit.”

“What was that?” Lied groans, looking at the whistle, “if you had that all this time, why didn’t you use it earlier?”

“That was loud enough to rattle all of my feathers at once, were you trying to blow our eardrums?” Camui grumbles. “I suppose that somehow ended up working, though…”

Soyo’s attention spins around the crowd that’s gathered, and the park’s emergency evacuation bell is ringing, staffmembers scurrying to evacuate.

Maemaro, the skeleton guy— is whispering into a walkie-talkie.

He has no eyes.

Atori isn’t focusing on it.

Soyo twists out of Gaap’s arms and steps off his shoulder into the crowd. “New target found!”

“Wha— Soyoyon!” Lied yells.

“Darn it, he escaped!” Jazz balks.

“Leave him,” Kalego says. “He’s after something. So for now, the—” he pauses. In front of him, Atori is still irate, but his gaze never falters from Soyo.

Atori nurses the side of his face where Soyo had gouged out an eye, and doesn’t flinch. Of course, something’s wrong with him— he seems more annoyed than furious.

“I see. That’s a Vassago, huh… I suppose the warning was right on point.”

Ah.

“Where’s Ameri?” Kalego demands immediately.

“Uhm! The group chat,” Lied hurries, “fashion district!”

“Tell her to stay there!”

“Huh??”

Soyo’s trying to do so much more than he can at once— that’s why he’s running, hitting and scurrying right off, like he’s trying to cross as many things off the list before . But whatever he’s trying to prevent, it’s only being rushed forward.

Soyo knows what he’s doing. That’s why they shouldn’t follow him.

If he needed any of them, he’d have gone around getting help before he started. That’s why the most important thing for Ameri now is to stay where she is, because that’s where Soyo wanted her to be.

With the park in disarray, Iruma was terrified. He’d gotten lost, and hadn’t been able to get back to his group before everyone was swept up in the evacuation and there was no longer any hope in finding where everyone went.

“It’s better to.. Go,” Shiida had suggested. “Back to your friends… outside.”

Right. When it’s an evacuation, you go to the meetup spot and you’ll find each other eventually, that’s the protocol. She has a point.

“But…”

Shiida’s communicator rang a tune, and both of them tense, Shiida more so than Iruma. She switches it off almost hastily, leading Iruma out of the alley and toward a crowd flowing toward the exit.

“I have to go.”

“Wait, Nee-san—”

He can’t forget the look of panic in her eyes when she heard it ring— it worries him, and he can’t let it be.

It was as if she was afraid, and she was crying for help she couldn’t have.

“IRUMA!”

He shrieks when Soyo came in with a diving hug, arms wrapped all around his head and legs entwined around his shoulders.

“Wha— Soyo-kun?” he’s startled, but it’s similar to Clara in a way, so he’s not very phased. “Is that blood? Are you hurt— Oh, why are you in your Wicked Phase again? Are you so stressed out that a day off isn’t working?”

Soyo stares Iruma in the eyes and—

—well, Iruma’s one of the few people that never avert his eyes when Soyo’s clearly focused. He simply stays still and lets Soyo stare as long as he wants until he’s done.

(Honestly, Soyo’s not sure if anyone even told Iruma what his powers do. Everyone’s a little uncomfortable with getting their mind read, but Iruma indulges him patiently. He’s just nice and complacent like that.)

“She left,” Soyo observes, looking up— and Iruma notices, too, that Shiida is gone.

“Ah! So fast…” Iruma balks. “At least I found you, but… I didn’t have a good feeling about her situation.”

Soyo frowns. “Their plan changed,” he mutters. He has to look for another Six Finger quickly and get an update— darn it, why did Maemaro have to be a skeleton demon? He got too carried away fighting Atori.

But he couldn’t help it— the eyes of a demon that’s Returned to Origins… it’s so magical.

(Soyo had the eyeball in his pocket and he was so going to encase this in a cylinder for display when he gets home. It’s the best souvenir ever.)

Ah. Right.

“Soyo is busy!” Soyo realized, reading that so vividly in Iruma’s head. “Soyo’s going to go back! The game’s not over yet.”

“Why are you speaking in third person— wait,” Iruma’s flustered, but he manages to latch onto Soyo’s arm and prevent him from leaping off. “What are you doing, Soyo-kun? You’re just attacking people and—”

Iruma pauses.

“Oh! Are there bad guys?” Iruma understands quickly. And that’s surprising to Soyo— he didn’t even falter. “Do you need our help?”

Soyo’s never experienced that before.

Someone just taking his actions in stride, and even happily offering assistance? Even Ameri is dependent on a year-cultivated trust.

“You’re going to help me?” Soyo asks, confused.

Vassago don’t get help from people. They’re wolves, and they only trust each other— anything else’s interference will just get in the way.

But Iruma’s different.

Soyo cups Iruma’s face, leaning forward so they’re eye-to-eye upside down.

“Then,” Soyo says, sincerely, “give me your eyes.”

“...what?”

“You guys haven’t evacuated yet?”

Opera leads the girls’ group toward the shelter, but Clara and Ameri aren’t quite as eager. It seems Balam’s group isn’t going anywhere, and Kalego’s too preoccupied to pick up.

He listens to Balam explain the situation over the phone.

“[Soyo-kun’s behind all this, but Iruma-kun— yes, we found him, he got lost but Soyo-kun led him back? We didn’t see Soyo-kun though— Iruma-kun told us he’s targeting the Six Fingers, who have infiltrated Walter Park as its staffmembers.]”

What a conspiracy. But if a Vassago is saying it, it must be true.

“I see,” Opera says, out loud, because he wants Ameri and the others to hear them talk, “so the real threats to the park right now are among the staff.”

The park’s in disarray, trying to identify ‘the demon that’s assaulting staff members at random’, but members of the Babyls school know otherwise. And since they don’t know who’s an enemy or an ally, all staff are currently suspicious.

“The Six Fingers… that urban legend?”

“[That’s actually real, yes.]”

If Soyo’s going around attacking a group that’s been so discreet they’re not known to the general public— then they must have had something planned today.

“Opera-san,” Ameri approaches. “Can you ask Iruma something?”

Iruma, back with Balam’s group, Sabnock trying to get Ronove and Agares back in line. Asmodeus is wiping off a smear of Soyo’s blood from Iruma’s cheeks.

“Huh?” he hears the question and he’s stumped. In his hands is a collar— Soyo’s— and he held it carefully, clutching the bell so it wouldn’t be too noisy when he walked. “Uhm… yes. He gave it to me. He took it off before he left, and told me to hold onto it.”

“I see…” Balam turns back to the conversation to relay it to the other side.

Agares groans. “I just want one day of peace! But no, we gotta come out here, where the ground’s uncomfy everywhere, and now that dumb mutt is making a mess of the ambience too…”

Ronove’s flustered. “No! My legendaddy’s park is a mess!”

His bodyguard or babysitter of sorts, Wett, sighs. “You’ve been all over the place, young master. Let’s evacuate with everyone else, alright?”

“The bell?” Asmodeus wonders. “Come to think of it, the Vassago all wear bells. I thought that had to do with their roles in the Netherworld…”

“It’s to signify their allegiance to the Demon King,” Sabnock says. “It’s in books about how the king united the Netherworld… if he took it off, does that mean he’s really gone batshit? He’s been attacking demons left and right and causing chaos… How annoying.”

Iruma chuckles, “he must have some sort of plan.”

Wett blinks with surprise when he sees that. “Is that perhaps a Vassago’s bell?” he says. “You’re very knowledgeable, Sabnock-kun. But in recent times, the allegiance of the Vassago aren’t really put into question anymore, so taking it off is not really uncommon.”

“Really?” Iruma perks up at that.

“Yes,” Wett says. “I suppose I’ve worked with a Vassago before, before I was hired here. You see, the collar does more than just visually signify the Vassago’s promise not to turn against the order of demonkind…”

Wett’s hand reaches for it, but stops somewhere right before it.

The bell in Iruma’s palm, without even being jostled, shakes and rings.

“It’s said that the Vassago can feel each other through it, and thus, always come to each others’ aid,” Wett tells them. “If they take it off, it can only mean they want their movements undetected, even by their own family.”

“I see…”

Iruma clutches it closely. “Huh? I guess I understand that part, but then why’d he—”

He looks up, and meets Wett’s eyes.

Something in Iruma’s blood shudders so violently, the words end instantly in his throat. He never doubts his instincts, and that’s why in the next second, he can’t explain why he grabs Sabnock and Asmodeus in both arms, and jerks back as far as he can get.

He doesn’t stop until they hit Balam’s side. He doesn’t breathe, his eyes don’t leave Wett’s for a single second of that motion.

“Wha— Iruma-sa—?”

“Ack! Hey, Iruma, what the- ouch!”

Iruma can’t say a thing. His eyes are locked on Wett’s— his empty, normal black eyes, confused about his actions.

Iruma doesn’t let go of Sabnock and Asmodeus, but his action has caught Balam and Agares’ attention. Along with Ronove’s.

Wett’s gaze turns around, to meet Ronove’s. “Hey now! Don’t look away from the great moi!” he warns. “You’re my bodyguard, right?”

“Ah… yes, young master, of course.”

When Wett turned back toward Iruma, this time, Balam’s attention was fully on him, arm wrapped around Iruma’s shoulders to pull him closer— and Sabnock and Asmodeus on each side, glaring warningly at him.

Iruma looked shellshocked.

And ah, Wett though, how interesting.

“That Soyo…” Ameri groans, closing her eyes and focusing. “He took off his collar. Now I can’t see what he’s doing…”

Opera led them to the shelter, where Elizabetta tried to soothe the frantic children, and Kerori found a way to calm the crowd.

“They say some rogue demon’s trying to destroy the park…”

“Could one of the prisoners have escaped in transit?”

“Gee, how dangerous. When will Netherworld security arrive?”

“What a day…”

“I’ve heard that the Vassago collars warn the family if one of them needs help,” Opera says. “I’ve seen Veer-kun leave the room in the middle of lectures when it rings.”

“Yes,” Ameri explains. “It’s only known to their handlers such as myself and Kalego-sensei, but those collars are Magic Apparatuses, and combined with the unique blood and Tracking ability of the Vassago, there’s a way for me to always know where he is.”

Opera considered this. “I suppose it also goes the other way around?”

It’s a blood contract of sorts. But only between the Vassago and their handlers— that’s the reason they’re introduced to their future handlers at a young age, and almost never change partners.

“I suppose he established a temporary bond of sorts with Iruma… the collar is there to help, but what Soyo can do on his Wicked Phase, where his limiters are released…” Ameri says, “is probably the connection, which will allow him to look through Iruma’s eyes for just a moment.”

That’s… inconceivable.

(And if the other Vassago can do that with their respective trails too?)

(No wonder they’re all so attached to their partners.)

“Hold on… that means,” Opera’s tail flicks, “that puppy sent Iruma-sama out as bait?”

Ameri nods. “He knew that Iruma would be near one of those Six Fingers he’s targeting.”

Soyo just wanted to look through those eyes, for their plans, motives, and next move— but they already know his ability. They would never let him get close.

That’s why Soyo sent out Iruma instead.

“Will Iruma-sama be fine?” Opera asks. “I suppose the connection would also allow Iruma to read the culprit’s mind.”

“...I’m not sure,” Ameri admits. “He should be fine, but… I don’t suppose whatever he learns will be pleasant. I was incredibly nauseated the first time it happened to me, and back then, we were just interrogating a common thief on the streets.”

Opera frowns. “That puppy needs to be redisciplined.”

And Ameri can’t even refute that. “I am so sorry.”

“What a shame. I know we were warned, but to think he’d actually cause so much chaos that the park’s evacuated before we even do anything…”

Miki and Hyudarin— two members of the Six Fingers, stand over a building’s balcony, awaiting the cue on their walkie talkie.

“Don’t be so down. The plan is not over just yet,” Hyudarin assures her. “Honestly, it’s not very much astray. This unrest works for us, even if it’s prior to schedule. The underworld security is on its way, though…”

“I don’t see the point,” Miki pouts. “No Vassago ever puts themself into the spotlight like this, especially for what— he’s not going to be able to stop us on his own, and why would he ever go so far for the Netherworld that’s done nothing for him?”

Hyudarin considers that.

“It’s not too hard to fathom,” he says. “Demons, puppies, we’re all the same. If we’re not allowed to play, sometimes, we make a mess just for fun.”

Vassago Soyo already knows he can’t stop this disaster— it’s not even his goal. He just wants in with the fray, to see how far he can go— even if he can’t stop it all, he simply wanted someone willing to play on the same grounds as him.

(Isn’t that what End of Terminus is meant to represent? Let loose and go crazy, because otherwise, all that pent-up stress might just destroy the Netherworld.)

“I’m supposed to wait for the next ring, right?” Miki holds up a demon beast egg.

“Yes. Shiida’s rushing the last of the preparations. It’s a little hastier, but once she gives us the cue—”

The swipe of a tonfa takes Miki’s bangs for a violent rustle. She doesn’t move, though, wisely— it swung with a velocity, swiping right for the demon beast egg and batting it right out of her fingers.

Extensible handcuffs lock around the egg, and retracts into someone’s hands.

“Got one!”

Soyo beams at them, his detection warding hood resting around his shoulder, leaning over the side of the balcony just like the both of them.

He cradles the egg in both hands, “that Wett guy is so scary!” Soyo whines, “can you believe it? I know I was just looking through the connection in my collar, but he’s completely empty! He wasn’t blocking me either, I just couldn’t see anything at all, he’s so creepy!”

Miki’s eyes are wide.

Hyudarin hums, impressed.

“Of course, that’s quite often the case with that one,” Hyudarin says.

Miki pouts, “you can’t just take that! Big Brother entrusted that to me…”

“You let go, so I win.”

“Bummer. I hate you dogs,” Miki pouts, “they just take it and rip it apart.”

Miki’s wearing glasses, and Hyudarin’s too strong. So, Soyo can’t read either of their thoughts. What a bummer. Their eyes are ugly, but hardly as enchanting as Atori’s.

Soyo sighs, closing his claws over the egg and shattering it between his hands.

He observes the demon embryo gore between his fingers, and wrings them out, mildly bothered by the sensation. Neither Miki nor Hyudarin seemed particularly eager to stop him— which made sense. They probably accounted for this much, and their goal was the prison, anyways. Losing one of the beasts didn’t matter.

Now that they were going into the peak of this invasion, there wasn’t anything Soyo could do anymore.

(It’s not like Soyo really wants to keep Kirio in this prison, either. Not that he’d ever stay in here any longer, whether Soyo tries to stop him or not. He’ll get out eventually, so any extra effort would be a waste of energy.)

But that means it’s the end of playtime.

“Shame I couldn’t get anything else. It’s two to one, so I guess I lost,” Soyo sulks. “Oh, when you get Kirio-senpai out, can you tell him this?” He blooms into grin. “Thanks! I had a lot of fun! Let’s have fun again some other time, okay?”

The walkie-talkie on Miki’s waist buzzes out a sharp sound.

And at once, on two spots in the park— explosions shook the earth and demonic beasts rose with a mighty roar. 

Chapter Text

In exchange for their strong Bloodline Magic, Vassago don’t tend to have much skill when it comes to any magical power otherwise. 

Still, making a simple platform to sit on is easy. And that’s where the group finds him, a slightly tipsy smile on his face as he admires Atori’s half-crushed eyeball while swinging his legs over the edge. 

His white coat is stained now with blood and dust and dirt, but he doesn’t seem to mind. He even perks up happily, like a dog that’s just waddled in mud, when he spots the group.

“The hell has that pup been doing while the park’s getting destroyed by monsters?” Kalego groans. 

“He was right over there when the beast was aiming that laser at the shelter, can he be any less aware of himself?” Asmodeus groans.

“Heck, he was running wild the entire time!” Camui complains. “But once the monsters showed up he was nowhere to be seen?”

“Honestly I’m relieved he was just doing the crazy Vassago equivalent of chasing butterflies,” Jazz admits, “I thought he was done for.” 

“Huh? What happened to the crazy guy he was fighting anyways?” Lied wonders. 

“Now now,” Iruma chuckles, soothing the group that looked as if they all wanted to go over there and punch the mutt, “I managed to eat the blast, so all’s well it ends well!” 

“You’re so easygoing, Iruma…” 

“Soyo!” 

The pillar Soyo had made for himself towered over the rubble, but his wings spread and he descended easily. 

Everyone tensed as Ameri stepped forward, her voice even. It was clear Soyo was in for the scolding of the century, so much that the three adults in their company weren’t even bothered to speak up at all. Iruma’s been through the Student Council boot camp, he knows best how fierce she can be. 

Instead of yelling, though, Ameri spreads her arms. 

“Come down here.” 

Soyo releases his wings, and falls the rest of the way down to be caught by her. He lets out an excited squeal as he does this, burying his face into Ameri’s shoulders and clinging like a koala once he’s secured.

Dutifully, Ameri just walks back to the group, just like that.

“That’s it??” Sabnock’s baffled. 

He ran around indiscriminately attacking everyone, was reckless enough to gouge out a demon’s eyeball when said demon was clearly much stronger than himself, and in the aftermath he acted like a bystander to all the battle with the beasts. 

Sure, he had a reason to attack, but it was bizzare. 

“Of course,” Ameri says. “I am his handler, his owner. I’m not his teacher, or his trainer. I am not the one in charge of pulling him back from his leash, I am simply the one who he comes back to, even after the collar is taken off.” 

They’re partners.

Only the Vassago can truly understand what they intend to do. And their handlers are the demons who will stand by their side, no matter where the road takes them. That’s all.

“If Ameri’s not scolding you, that’s fine,” Opera raises their hand and all attention turns to them. “I, however have some words for you.”  

Balam also raises his hand, “as do I.” 

Kalego shrugs, “while we’re at it, I might as well too.” 

Ah.

Soyo nurses three large bumps on his head as he curls into the corner of their banquet, sniffling. 

“They didn’t have to yell at me that much…” he whines into his knees, sulking. He’s finally down from his Wicked Phase high, which is why he’s three times moodier than usual. “I helped. I prevented one whole monster.” 

But no one knew about the third monster, so they don’t owe Soyo any gratitude. And Soyo doesn’t intend to give them a play-by-play report of what he was up to either, so he’ll have to live with it. Being a Vassago is rough.

“Ah, Soyo-kun!” 

Iruma comes up to him with a dear smile, and Soyo feels the stress dissolve off him as the human embodiment of sunshine and cinnamon comes up to him. 

“Here, you left this with me, so I’m returning it.” 

Soyo peruses the item— the soft leather, the slightly worn bell— it was his collar just as he remembered taking it off. Being able to look through Iruma’s eyes with it had been very helpful. He got to see Wett’s gaze through it, and…

…thinking about it sent chills running down his spine again, and he genuinely couldn’t tell if it was from fear or ecstasy. 

“Uhm,” Iruma seems hesitant, even after Soyo clicks his collar back on. His eyes wander, his fingers knead against each other. “About it, Soyo-kun…” 

Soyo can see it in Iruma’s eyes. Apprehension. He’s not afraid— just confused, and eager to understand. 

“You saw something, right?” 

Soyo is allowed to borrow the eyes of whoever is holding his collar. But in return, they, too, see exactly what he sees. But he cannot interpret any of the information he receives and it overwhelms him, leaving him confused and uneasy. 

That’s why it’s usually limited to their handlers, who are raised with them from young and thus can adapt to being forced to take in each others’ senses sometimes. 

“...yes,” Iruma says. “What I saw…” 

Iruma doesn’t deserve a vague answer.

“I don’t really get it either,” Soyo admits. When he… when they looked into Wett’s eyes together, they saw complete darkness. No, it wasn’t even darkness. “It was just empty.” 

Wett’s eyes had nothing in them. 

“It’s not that I couldn’t see anything because he was stronger than me,” Soyo says. “It wasn’t that he was hiding from me either. I saw him, and I saw nothing. He knew I was there, and he simply allowed me to look.” 

To look at the nothingness that he is. 

Iruma’s voice comes shakily, “was he a…?” 

Soyo doesn’t answer that one. He doesn’t have to know more about the Six Fingers. 

“He was disgusting,” Soyo concludes. “His eyes were so sickening of a sight… it took my breath away. I wish I could see it again, don’t you agree?” 

Iruma’s eyes said he didn’t agree. 

But just a little, Iruma’s beginning to understand how Soyo’s mind worked. And thus, when he nods, it’s full of honesty. An honest confusion as he trembles, and expresses, with a breathy note of someone that’s suddenly completely enlightened about the Vassago’s addiction to this corruption:

“It was chilling. But I wasn’t scared, it was… amazing. ” 

It was as if he were an earthworm, and for the very first time in his life, he’d managed to crawl out of the soil, and look out upward toward the ever-expanding, ever blue skies. And he just couldn’t stop realizing that the sky expanded so far to the edge of his vision— until he couldn’t help but humbly realize just how minuscule he is in the scale of the universe. It’s such a fascinating, heartwarmingly wondrous sensation. 

(Not that the netherworld sky was blue, but Iruma would understand that metaphor best, wouldn’t he?)

Thanks to Ronove and his dumbassery, everyone’s having trouble going home from the luxurious Walter Park hotel. There’s media flooding every inch of the land they’ve been known to tread upon. 

So for now, they’re trapped in the floating island hotel. 

“It huuuuurts,” Soyo whines. 

“It’s your just desserts,” Kerori sighs, producing an ice pack for him to rest on his knee. They’re in the hotel’s playroom couch, where most of the Misfits were gathered to figure out where they would evacuate to until the buzz dies down. 

“Seriously, running about that wildly on your foot like that, it’s like you were asking for it,” Agares grumbles.

“When I’m in my Wicked Phase, I forget about it,” Soyo admits bitterly. 

The pain in his foot aches like nothing else. Like he’s stepping into a fire ant hill, like it’s actively getting peeled apart cell by cell. He wishes someone would cut it off. It didn’t hurt yesterday, but it seems one day was long enough for the pain to hit now that his senses weren’t dialed up to eleven anymore. 

“There there, poor thing,” Gaap pats him on the thigh, massaging his calf slightly and adjusting the ice pack. “Elizabetta-san went to get some medicine.” 

“Well, Soyoyon’s worked really hard,” Lied says. “But what’s the plan from here? Are you going back to work like this?” 

Which… yeah , he needed to go to work. End of terminus means crime rates are less supervised, not that they go down. 

“Yeah, no way,” that’s Balam, who walks in with Elizabetta and a medicine box. “Walk on that foot again and you might lose function all the way up to your knee, you’ve exacerbated the nerve damage.” 

“What?” the class freaks.

“Well, wouldn’t be the first time,” Ameri says. 

“WHAT?” freakout round two. 

Ameri enlightens the crowd, “he used to be able to properly wiggle his toes. But sometime in our training when we were young, he injured it and could no longer move it under the ankle. That’s why the boot is permanent now.” 

“Soyo, please take care of yourself a little more!” 

“Toes are important, Soyo!” 

Soyo groans, clutching his pillow tighter. He didn’t need this embarrassment today. 

“So Soyo definitely will not work for at least another week,” Ameri says, “I’ll handle it. I can call the Student Council to help me, they like the extra credit on their grades.” 

“Makka-chan, that’s tyranny!” Clara declares. 

“Yeah,” Sabnock agreed, “let them enjoy the break.” 

“Oh it’s fine,” Ameri’s already texting, “they’re probably calling their old gangs anyways, they do that around this time. If they’re cleaning up the slums, we may as well clean up the streets too.” 

“I’m sorry, did you just say ‘gangs’?” Kerori goes ignored. It would usually bother her, but not today, because wisely, she realised she would rather not hear the answer. 

“Why do I have the feeling your definition of ‘clean up the streets’ is different from the charity work I’m imagining right now?” Jazz mumbles. 

“As expected of the Student Council, dedicated to their orderly manner even on the semester break…” Gaap says.

Soyo wants to think through the throbbing in his leg, but it’s all he can focus on. He hates this very much, being this vulnerable and exposed around so many people. But as Balam helps him up and Elizabetta holds out the water for him to take his painkillers, he can’t help but like the way he’s allowed to just lean and entrust himself to others.

It’s been a while, that’s all.

It’s not like the Vassago are void of affection, but every time they meet now, it’s a desperate touch and go. He knows this will be no different, so he just rests his head on Balam’s soulder, and hopes the warmth will stay.

He misses when he was a toddler, and his father would let them cuddle for hours doing nothing in the estate garden. But now, even if he went home, no one would be there. And Ameri’s busy with work, so—

—oh, well. He’s not a toddler anymore, and this is what it means to leave the nest.

“Unlike students, teachers are busy during the end of terminus. We won’t be able to babysit on top of our work, unfortunately,” Balam says. 

“Eh, he can’t go to Veer-sensei’s dorm either?” that’s Agares. It’s rare to hear him speak up, “you’re expecting me to just manually ship him on my Shishou to get him all the way back to his damn estate?” 

“That’s diabolical, sir,” Sabnock says in full seriousness and Soyo never thought he’d hear that word used unironically ever by this guy, “dogs are pack animals.” 

“Why don’t we all go to the Vassago estate—” 

“No,” Kalego cuts that off, “it’s forbidden territory to all except family and handler. Not even the Thirteen Crowns may enter that place without permission. Even bringing in your nimbus is stretching it.” 

“Darn, tough luck then,” Jazz sighs. “He could go to the student dorms, right?” 

“But no one’s in the Student Council dorms now.” 

“He shouldn’t be alone, but we shouldn’t overwhelm him with too many people either so… how about this for a suggestion?” 

Soyo doesn’t hear the rest of the conversation as the medicine kicks in and he drifts off.

For some reason, he is currently bundled up between the chaotic paraphernalia and an acceptable duvet on the bottom bunk of Shax Lied’s bed. 

Lied himself is sitting on the floor beside the bed, leaning against the bedframe. A book piled up between toys and an empty briefcase shuffles as Soyo lifts his head, so Lied notices him rousing very quickly. 

“Oh, Soyoyon! You’re awake. Want some water?” 

Soyo twists open the bottle of water and quenches his dry throat in mild desperation. Lied’s room is— well, a boy’s room. He’s piled up all his miscellaneous items on this bottom bunk that Soyo’s currently using, and apparently he just dumped Soyo on it with a nice duvet to make up for this mess of a guest bed. It’s a little cramped because of that, but Soyo likes his sleeping spots crowded like this, so it’s comforting. 

“You just missed Jazz, he left maybe ten minutes ago,” Lied said. “You hungry or anything? Or are you going back to sleep?” 

Soyo has no idea what’s going on right now and he wonders if Lied’s going to grace him with an answer to all the questions in his head, but right now Soyo doesn’t feel like talking. Everything numb like his head’s stuffed full of cotton, he’s seeing double to triple, and— well, he didn’t remember what he dreamed about, but he knew he didn’t want to see it again. 

“Oh and! We’re having a week-long sleepover,” Lied reports, in the tone a student would to tell them they have to move classrooms next period. “And since my sibling is the only one that has experience taking care of a Vassago, I got you. Glad to have you! Later tonight after my sister leaves for a Sabbath, a bunch of us are coming over to play games too. So look forward to that.” 

Somehow, Soyo’s been assigned to a sleepover featuring him, and he’s the last person to know. 

Well.

Might as well enjoy it.

He slumps down, laying flat on the bed and tucking his chin into Lied’s shoulder, looking at the game console in his hands. Lied laughed, like it tickled, but leaned back against the bedframe.

“The Student Council President said you spent all your life training to be a police dog n’all, does that mean you’ve never owned a game console before?” 

Soyo hums. The colours and lights hurt, and the sounds would’ve been grating. He kind of misses them, though, from his past life being a streamer he always played games back then. He hasn’t done much beyond festival games in this one. 

“I like the sounds,” he settled on that. The lights hurt his eyes right now and he had to close them to ride out the migraine, but it’s fine.

The click and beeps, the exaggerated, cartoony sound effects soothe his soul and remind him of home in a way it hasn’t been home in years.

Maybe it’s new. Maybe that’s fine.

In his past life, he heard these sounds alone in a dark room, riding out any migraines and phantom pains buried under the covers where no one ever came to help him. People thought he liked the solitude, but they couldn’t be further from the truth. Maybe that’s why he died. He rotted, eventually, like a bunny dies of loneliness.

So for now, he’ll enjoy this messy environment where he never has a moment of peace, where things happen faster than even his all-knowing abilities can comprehend— because at least he’s not alone right now.

“Devi crap , Soyo you’re stupid good at this!” 

“NOoo! How did you— no! What? That’s not possible! NOooOOO!!” Gaap dramatically despairs as the game mocks him with his loss. 

“Winner, Soyo again,” Allocer declares. This lion guy was quite miffed about missing the whole Walter Park debacle, so here he is, making up for it all. “The enemy of progress is complacency.” 

Soyo, a yoghurt popsicle in his mouth, a fever patch on his head, and a sack of ice as his leg cushion, fervently destroys all his classmates in whatever this demon version of Street Fighter was. He clicks his tongue when his combo falls short of an extra critical hit, even though he’d already been declared the winner. 

“I’m getting rusty,” Soyo deems. Not playing for so many years would do that, perhaps. 

“This isn’t even his final form!” Lied wails, terrified. 

“What, you haven’t managed to overthrow his Highness yet?” Jazz chuckles, coming in with their delivery order, closing the door with his foot. He holds out a thermometer between the bags of takeout, prompting a warning of, “Soyo.” 

Soyo groans, “it’s just a light fever, I’m not dyin’.” 

“Wisdom is knowing when to have rest, when to have activity, and how much of each to have,” Allocer corrects him, taking away his console. 

“Plus the President told us! Since your siblings all went off for their training stations, you’ve been living alone since you were eight!” Lied accused. “You’re getting pampered like the sick child you are! Be spoiled!” 

Soyo honestly thought he was sufficiently spoiled already, but these guys just weren’t listening to reason. 

Vassago tended to leave for training very early on depending on their own development. Sivvi, the strongest, left as soon as she was five and went straight to Babyls. Veer and Van both completed their training and went off to their permanent stations long before that, so after Dad deemed Ameri trustworthy to care for her pet dog, he left too. 

Soyo’s been living alone since, and that might sound scary to these guys, but it’s no big deal to him. He had Ameri, and news of them always made it to Soyo, which comforted him in a way only Vassago with their Bloodline Magic could understand. 

“It’s just not going down,” Jazz’s verdict makes everyone turn to him. 

“I’m honestly impressed by that fever at this point,” Gaap admits, “Kerori-san gave you a giant unmeltable block of ice, but even that has nothing on your body temperature.” 

“Should we break off a piece and hang it over his head?” Lied asks. 

“At this point we may as well dunk him in an ice bath.” 

Soyo whined.

“Sorry puppy, it’s for your own good,” Lied soothes.

“Did the dog rearing guide say anything about how to make a puppy take a bath?” Gaap asks, leaning over to look at Allocer as he studied the honest-to-good ‘Dog Training for Dummies’ guide book with incredible focus. 

Soyo whined louder. 

Camui’s brought in the low tea table toward them, neatly opening and arranging all their takeout in a dining setup. They were indulgent with fried foods and hot comfort meals, definitely a sleepover menu for boys who did not have an adult to tell them no. 

Soyo didn’t really have an appetite, though.

“This is yours,” Camui passed him a bowl of porridge that looked like… well, any other food in the Netherworld, actually. And then Camui proceeded to dunk a whole packet of sparkly spice into it. 

Just as Soyo wondered if he was having glitter for dinner and why he hasn’t had an allergic reaction yet, he realized that was just pepper. It just looked bizarre, as everything did in the Netherworld. He couldn’t smell well right now, sick as he was, but as he took a bite, damn did it taste good . 

It was illegally good. Something that looks like unicorn barf should not taste like an actually good and indulgent veggie congee, damn it. He hasn’t had any of this in his entire second life, so all he could think of was the one before it, and he really didn’t want to deal with those memories right now.

In his past life, after the incident that ruined his life ,he spent a lot of time eating congee because his parents would make it. It was always flavourful and delicious and it was the only thing chaining him to reality in those days where he thought his world was over.

“Gyah!” Lied freaks out, “you put too much pepper in that, Camui! Apologize!” 

“What?? I’m sorry!”

Soyo smears away the tears running down his cheek and sniffles. He doesn’t like expressing himself so clearly, and the fact that his eyes burn now, his nose feels stuffed, and his chest feels like it’s being gouged out— it’s too much.

He wants Dad to put the restraining commands back on him, because after feeling nothing for so long, he didn’t know how to handle even a little anymore. He loses himself to excitement too easily, because he no longer knows how to handle any emotions anymore. He lets them run, unhealthily, because he’s never had to figure out what to do with emotions before. What else was he supposed to do?

He wanted to be free, but he hadn’t realized that being free meant he would have to actually live like a person again. A person with emotions, wills, ambitions, and fears . He would have to be someone that faced challenges, overcame difficulties, and braved things that they didn’t like. Because he’s free now, he’s not a chained mutt that simply obeys orders anymore.

Now, he’s allowed to cry when things hurt. And he will, whether he likes it or not. And people will react to him, people will comfort him when he does. And he has to handle the regret, embarrassment, and overwhelming gratitude he feels when they look out for him. 

(Emotions? Disgusting, he never wants to feel these again. He doesn’t want to handle them, he wishes he could throw them up and flush them down the drain.)

(Dammit. It’s been too long, he’s not about to start missing them now again. He hasn’t cried about his past life since that day Dad first held him in his swaddle.)

“Ohhh Soyoyon! It’s okay, it’s okay,” Lied soothes, cradling his head in his arms, “you’ll be fine, okay?” 

He hugs back and nods, because maybe, with them around, he’ll finally have the courage to figure out how to leave that dark nest inside his mind, one step at a time.

Chapter Text

The new semester began, just like that. 

Honestly, Soyo feels as if it had all been a blur, and he’d spent most of it just hanging out with his classmates. 

When he wasn’t playing games with Lied and the rest of the boys, Kerori snatched him up on their girls’ days outs. He also got called in to advise Ameri how to dress for her first date with Iruma, which was adorable, but he wasn’t allowed to stalk them so that was a downer. 

Drowsily, he rubs the sleep out of his eyes as he gets dressed. 

“Young Master Soyo, we have prepared breakfast.” 

And that was also odd. There were servants in the main house— something that only happened when there was a pup in the family. Since outsiders weren’t allowed in Vassago territory, it was relatives that served the main family. 

In this family, it didn’t matter who gave birth to you. If you inherited the Bloodline Magic and Wicked Phase symptoms, you would be in line of succession, and Dad would adopt you into his care pretty much right after birth. Everyone else would be delegated outside the estate. They came by every once in a while to help out and maintain the mansion itself, especially when a pup was around, but otherwise, they preferred to have little to do with the family and their privacy-invading habits. 

There’s no pup around now though, just Soyo. 

They tended to come by and make food or clean if any of the family said they were going to come home. But it seemed someone tattled on Soyo, because whoever told them to come here and make sure he had three square meals a day, it wasn’t him. 

(Must’ve been Veer then…)

He’s really not accustomed to being cared for. But this guy specifically, Soyo couldn’t ever turn him away. In this family where most were born with silver to white hair, only Soyo and this one boy had survived from the small litter of black-haired pups. 

(Alas, only the main family were bestowed names, so Soyo had nothing to call him.)

He had eyes that were red, just like his own. And yet, a vast nothingness reflected in his eyes— not because he was fundamentally empty like Wett. Soyo was simply unable to obtain any information, in the same way an enchantress may not be allured by the sound of their own voice.

Like looking into a mirror— Soyo was simply afraid that when his eyes met those that blinked in the same way his own did… he would see nothing but a reflection of everything he disliked about himself. 

“That’s too much,” Soyo sighs at the sight of the full assortment of food on the table.  

“Rest assured, you only need to fill one plate,” the servant compromises, “the rest will be for your familiar… and this Demonitor.” 

Soyo looks at his hands— where Nikon, with a pretty new lens and sheen of polish and looking really proud of its apparent trip to the maintenance facility, sits content. Well, that’s fine. 

With a snap of his fingers, his Aries Pixie popped up on his shoulder. 

“Thanks for the food.” 

Food has never been much of an enjoyment for him, and he has always had to hold himself back from foods that would trigger an adverse reaction to his Bloodline Ability— even then, he takes an ample amount of all the food he can reach, making sure he has a little of everything— and he makes sure to finish it all. 

His Aries Pixies and Nikon, however, gorged on the rest for him. 

Older demons always spoke of how eating habits reflected the true nature of a demon. Soyo believed his weird eyeball fetish spoke enough of his nature already, so he never really considered what his natural eating habits would reflect either. 

-

Today would be the day he returns to the student council dorms, which is an odd feeling. He’d spent so much time being ‘off work’ that it was oddly humbling to be going to school like a normal kid again. 

For the first time in days, he clicks his collar, the symbol of the Vassago, around his neck— and they’re a comforting weight. The mantle shrouded around his shoulders, he pulls his hood over his head, past his ears, and sighs in relief.

It feels like coming home. 

Nikon chirps, floating after him as they head out the door. Soyo lets his wings spread, and he takes off. 

-

Royal One was really the epitome of a picturesque school life. 

“Argh! Soyo!” Agares snarls, “it’s literally the first damn day of the semester and you’re being a pain in the ass to me in particular! Leave me and my Shishou ALONE!” 

Soyo buries his face into the flying nimbus, in absolute bliss.

“Cut him some slack,” Jazz chuckles, “stairs are hard on him, and the nap room just had to be upstairs.” 

“FLY THEN, DAMMIT!” 

Soyo wonders if anything is worth parting ways with the cloud ever again. He should just live in it forever, but alas… he already skipped out on moving back into the dorms this morning, he has to be in the meeting room at the last bell of the day or Ameri will scold him again. The woes of life. 

“Oh? The lights are on, but no one’s inside,” Jazz notices, peeking in. “Wonder if anyone came in a day early and pulled an all-nighter playing games?” 

“You’re talking about Lied-kun, right?” Gaap hums. 

Soyo’s ears perked right up. His head spins around rapidly, looking for signs of— when he bolts up and off the nimbus Agares yelps in surprise, momentarily reaching out thinking he was falling— but Soyo lunges straight for the wall. 

He crashes into it with a violent squawk. 

“Soyo-kun?!” Gaap freaks out. “Are you okay?!” 

“Was that sound your skull hitting the wall?” Jazz asks, genuinely concerned. He picks up the poor deflated puppy and cradles his head inspecting the new bump. 

Agares sighs, and the nimbus comes by almost apologetically cuddling up to Soyo’s side, “you can’t even stay on the damn thing right?” 

Soyo whines. 

But for a second there, he thought he saw… well, he’s gone now, so he supposed it didn’t matter. But he thought for sure he’d be able to catch Purson today! And he did see the guy, Soyo just missed the catch because their invisible boy was a good dodger. 

Soyo was supposed to be able to see many things normal demons couldn’t. Vassago boasted great tracking abilities, after all, and he was supposed to be focused on sight . And yet, he still avoided looking at Kerori all the time because Detection-Warding Glasses made him dizzy. There’s no way he even comes close to seeing through the Purson family Bloodline Ability.

It’s mildly frustrating, because it just meant that compared to his siblings, he had far more to learn in regards to what he thought was his strongest skill. 

…honestly it shouldn’t bother him as much as it does. 

His life’s not going to be impeded just because he can’t see through an invisibility cloak. And he already knows Purson’s eyes are black, so it doesn’t interest him as much, in all honesty. And something something, respecting people’s privacy and need for anonymity, or something. 

He doesn’t need to see everything in the world. Everyone would be happy that way.

-

“So basically if every single member of this class doesn’t reach Daleth[4] before your second year, you’ll be kicked out of Royal One.” 

Everyone got rapidly sorted into special instructors in teams of two, and Soyo, for one, was lost and flabbergasted. He remembered this happening, vaguely, honestly his mind’s been so full of pretty red things that he’d completely forgotten he was going to be a part of the madness now. 

…and he’s actually quite concerned that he doesn’t know what awaits. Kalego’s eyes betray nothing except high amusement , and that doesn’t exactly narrow anything down. 

All that was left was Iruma, Lied, and Soyo. Which was weird, especially when only Iruma and Lied were assigned to Robin-sensei. 

“Now, usually I would be supervising the class, but in the spirit of fairness, I’m passing those duties to Vassago-sensei this time,” Kalego says. 

Soyo’s blood runs cold when Veer comes in from the door, “sorry I’m late! Damn, Royal One is pretty damn far from the main building, why do you guys like this place?”

“You were supposed to be here when homeroom started,” Kalego snarls.

“I got distracted by all the dyed and damaged hair in the courtyard. Some of those kids thought they could dye their hair over End of Terminus and not get noticed by me,” Veer says. The scissors in his hands are held like an expensive vase.

Kalego sighs longsufferingly. 

“Kalego will still be you guy’s homeroom, but I’ll be doing all the work for now,” Veer picks up the chart with a grin, “so outside of homeroom period if you need any help, come to me and you’ll know how to find me, okay kids?” 

The class is visibly bewildered by this. Vassago-sensei was not known to be the friendliest, much less if your hair or horns aren’t in the natural colour bestowed upon you by the devil himself. Going to him for help is like wagering a death gamble. Is this a better or worse option than Emperor Doom and Gloom?

“I already regret my decision.” 

Soyo’s confused. It doesn’t sound like Veer is training him, even though that’s in many ways the best choice. No one understands the Vassago better than a Vassago. Considering what happened last time Soyo pissed Veer off, he’s slightly relieved. 

…hold on, what did Kalego say again?

“In the spirit of fairness?” Soyo asks.

“Of course,” Kalego hands the clipboard to Soyo, “we can’t just have family teaching family. That wouldn’t be fair for your partner.” 

…partner?

Oh.

Soyo’s ears perk up with a realisation. A very, very exhilarating realisation.

Veer laughs, “someone’s already excited, huh?” 

Soyo realizes right after that wait, Kalego is objectively a scarier teacher than Veer, but that couldn’t dampen his spirits honestly. 

Something flickers in terror by his side, some poor sod experiencing a mental tremor as he comes to the lonely, devastating realization that he is surrounded by feral mutts.

“Your training begins today,” Kalego says, “it starts when the bell rings for the end of your last class of the day… I’ll text you both the details then.” 

-

For Soyo, reaching Daleth[4] was just a matter of raising his rank by one, which wouldn’t be too difficult considering the opportunities to come. 

Honestly, with all of his contributions to Netherworld Security since young, he could get promoted anytime simply for civil service. The timing for that was just a matter of making an appeal and hoping the people working in authority were in a good mood.

But raising his rank with the others seemed like much more fun. 

Though, he hesitates to know what the guard dog of Babyls, their sadistic, doom and gloom of a teacher would do to them when given the authority to be as harsh and spartan as he could be… it’s a little terrifying. He wouldn’t make Soyo practice sit and stay in front of a bunch of Piranha Plants, would he? That’d be diabolical. 

“So that’s the end of your lesson. Make sure you review it well… especially that group over there! Are you even listening to me?!”

Soyo hears the school bell go off overhead. Their special instructions then proceed to knock the door down and kidnap their wards, leaving the classroom, including the teacher, in utter bafflement. 

“...do you not have somewhere to be as well, Vassago-kun?” Mononoki-sensei turns to Soyo, slightly apprehensive. 

Soyo looks mildly confused as well. He didn’t expect Kalego to join the group in kidnapping his charges or anything, but he did say to wait for the bell to ring and he’d…

…two phone chimes at the same time.

He takes his own phone out, reading the simple, short message that he didn’t even have to unlock his phone to see in full. 

His instructions were simple,  

From: [KALEGO-SENSEI]

Go hunt.

The windows were closed, and yet, he felt a wind blow. His eyes widen with an interest as his nose picks up the odour of magical mist, his ears shivering from the disorienting waver of a magic he knows so well, yet has never managed to usurp.

Detection Warding . 

He understands, full in his soul, exactly what he needs to do now. He doesn’t need to know what instructions Purson was given at all, or where the guy was headed now that school’s over for the day.

[Go hunt .]

His lips peel into a bright, wide grin of sheer excitement so much he accidentally lets out a squeal of happiness. Really? He might have asked, I can, you’ll let me? I can? If he could see Kalego right now he’d pounce in happiness, but oh, priorities, priorities!

“Vassago-kun—?!” 

Mononoki-sensei was left befuddled as Soyo leapt over the desk, onto all fours, and then scampered right out the door. He doesn’t let walls and ceilings stop him. Wings spreading out like a menace right in the hallways. He earns a few shouts of ‘hey! Don’t run and fly in the halls’ from someone, but he doesn’t care.

He’s got prey to catch.

-

The excitement… didn’t last long.

Soyo found himself in the middle of the courtyard, on top of a tree, staring out in the distance blank and confused and worst of all, bored out of his mind.

He’s searched everywhere. Looked through every kid in a blue uniform. He’s dashed across every hallway, even snuck into the security room to look through the CCTV, but that just overwhelmed him with too much at once. 

He can’t find Purson Soi. Or even a trace of that demon. 

If he were Veer, he could perhaps find hair. If he were Sivvi, he could find footprints. If he were Van, he wouldn’t even be worrying about this— Van could hear everything, down to a person’s heartbeat. That’s why he was sent so far away from Netherworld Society.

But Soyo’s Bloodline Magic specialty limited him in times like these. He could easily single out demons in a crowd, but if he couldn’t see them in the first place, there was nothing he could do. 

Where is he?  

He’s getting frustrated. It’s like an itch he can’t reach, a breath stuck in his chest like phlegm, a scream he doesn’t know how to vocalise. 

He’s so close. But he’s far away again. Where is my target? Why can’t he see it? It just didn’t make sense— he’s better than this. His target is here, somewhere, he just has to find them, but he’s nowhere! He can’t smell him, sense him, hear him, nothing—

—he just wants to hunt, so why is the hunt not going well?

The reward isn’t even all that good.

But he wants to hunt and he’s so frustrated he wants to scream.

From: [KALEGO-SENSEI]

Purson: 1

Vassago: 0

Loser gets four times the remedial homework and has to spend winter break as my personal assistant.

+confiscating your collection.

(you both know which ones)

Soyo reads that message and stares in speechless, frozen horror. 

Later on, Grave had to walk over and check on him in tandem with Quichelight a few times. They then tried to lure the shivering, growling puppy out of his den of eyeball collections.

“Come on now puppy, it’s not scary out here, come on…” Quichelight, all baby voice and sweet cooing, was flat on the ground on his stomach, waving a Dodomeki Flower at the mouth of the hole in the wall. 

Soyo’s hand was carefully, warily, reaching out for it.

“How did he dig that hole in the wall?” Grave marvels at the sight and the shelves of eyeballs encased in tubes. Some of those things were huge, and he didn’t want to guess what kind of monsters those eyes came from.  

“Got him!” 

“Careful, Quiche—” 

“Ow!” Quiche yelps when Soyo scratches the flower out of his hand and bites on his way back into his den. Undeterred by the new scar on his face however, he simply whines, “foiled again. Shall we try plushies instead?” 

“He scratched you?? You’re bleeding??” Grave gawks, “Soyo, what’s wrong, really, you’ve never been like this before!” 

A low growl escapes the den of dangerous dog. 

“It’s not his evil phase at least,” Western sighs, staying clear out of this whole thing. Nevermind the fact that there’s a hole in the Student Council boys’ shared room, he just wasn’t as keen to stick his hand in the rabid dog cage because he’s a rational person.

“Then what?”

“His rebellious phase I guess?”

“Huh.” 

A moment of silence.

There’s something to be said about the student council— not many know at this point, but Soyo is aware that they weren't always the cool, respectful, and disciplined students they presented themselves as now. In fact, they used to be examples of the worst of the worst batch of students. 

It was all thanks to Ameri that they became who they were today. 

Every once in a while though, when tempers flared and frustrations boiled, their old selves just couldn’t help but peek out of the shadows of their facade. The danger they could cause was magnanimous, but Ameri trusted them enough that she knew if it happened, the victim probably deserved what was coming for them. 

“Soyo-kun,” Quiche starts again, smiling sweetly, “the other two are getting a really evil look in their eyes so I think you better come out.” 

Soyo peeks out, multiple Aries Pixies all over him, beady eyes looking up at Grave, and then Western. And then back at Quiche.

“No.” 

With a disgusted scrunch of his face— an impressive amount of emotion honestly— Soyo retreats back into the den. He knows that the other three are too big to fit in this one-puppy sized cavern.

“That wasn’t me!” Western yells, when the other two glance accusatorily at him. He points at them, “you guys were definitely thinking something worse!” 

“I wouldn’t do anything bad to Soyo!” Grave insists, then deflates. “Okay. But could you blame us though, punishing troublemakers is our job description.” 

“I just got back from stringing up some lowlife by their entrails in the slums,” Quiche’s voice is dry, “I think he saw that.” 

“Dammit, we’re hopeless. Think Smoke will have better chances?”

“No, she’ll make him run off. And President Ameri doesn’t come here at night too…” 

“Alright that’s it!” Grave groans before slamming a foot into the wall, breaking a brand new hole in the brick, “puppy, you’re getting out of the damn wall because we are NOT losing sleep over this shit!” 

Soyo shrieks as more of the wall gets blown off.

“Better hurry before Smoke wakes up, she’s a heavy sleeper but she’ll be cranky at us,” Quiche says, getting rid of the rubble to retrieve the puppy. 

“We can’t fix this tonight though, so someone’s gotta make sure he doesn’t bury himself back in the hole later on,” Western adds, “So since Quiche is the kind that has a death grip on all five of his pillows at night…” 

“Yeah,” Grave declares, “get out here Soyo! You’re gonna be Quiche’s body pillow today and you’re going to LIKE IT!” 

All things considered, Soyo wakes up realizing he’s miraculously unharmed. He really did just get sentenced to body pillow duty for the rest of the night. 

He’s seen the student council beat students to a pulp for rest, and yet, when he pretty much wrecks their shared room and causes trouble and lack of sleep for everyone— he gets away with maybe a slap on the wrist and a few more focused errands the next day.

“Soyo, get these documents to the President, and make sure the old ones have all been checked before bringing them back— sort them out in those boxes over there, the faculty will be coming by later today to pick them up before morning briefing.” 

It’s yet again a busy morning for the student council. Soyo has to do a bit more work than usual, mainly because as revenge for last night, the boys are making Soyo do the running around. Usually they wouldn’t, knowing it would make his leg ache for the rest of the day, but today they were feeling a little mean. 

Even then… Soyo couldn’t help the realisation that they’d all done incredibly worse to people who have inconvenienced them less. 

Are they spoiling him because he’s younger?

“Speaking of the Harvest Festivals, we’ll have a lot to set up,” Ameri reports in the morning briefing. “ Soyo is excused from all of Harvest Festival-related meetings. In his place during patrols from tomorrow onward, Nafra will be coming back to daytime duty.” 

Soyo perks up.

Nafra.

He knows about Nafra, of course— her Bloodline Magic of odour coupled with her more timid nature wasn’t as compatible with the rest of the council. She was always doing the background work of the council and wasn't required for morning briefings or daily drills. Instead, she tended to handle night time patrols until dawn all on her own. 

She’s an essential member of the council, probably the most important one in regards to Babyls security. 

“Of course, this means someone will have to handle night security in her place,” Ameri says. “Soyo, consider this additional training.” 

Soyo meeps.

From: [KALEGO-SENSEI]

Purson: 7

Vassago: 0

Soyo has never been one to complain about training. He hated pain, he loved slacking off— but when he had a job to do, he always saw it through with composure and efficiency. He was raised to complete his duties like a respectable guard dog, after all.

But that was before his chains were broken.

Now? He felt the strings of his patience begin to fray, his motivation beginning to wane, and his focus crumble in the face of exhaustion. 

He still couldn’t find Purson.  

He would locate him within seconds of the bell, track him down as far as the courtyard— sometimes further, but he would always lose him soon after. And then Purson would never be seen again until the day after.

This was grinding his gears, and for so many years in this second life, he thought he was born without any gears to be ground. 

He’s not wrong for feeling this way. Purson was getting ridiculous. Get caught already, dammit, there’s not that many places in Babyls to hide, so how does he keep doing this? It’s not even remotely necessary.

The idea that there’s a pair of eyes so unremarkable, yet they’re being actively gatekept from him… it drives him crazy. 

When he gets his hands on Purson— and he’s going to, he’s going to keep those eyes for himself.

(Is this fun? No, it’s not fun right now. Now he’s just frustrated.)

(That’s not fair, everything should always be fun!)

“Oh dear.” 

In the teacher’s dorms, Veer looks out toward the moonlight of Babyls in the nocturne hours— it’s silent, singing, and haunting as things should be. He sips on a mug of warm tea, resting upon the windowsill as he considered the view.

“Don’t interfere,” Kalego warns him, eyes not lifting from the paperwork that he’d brought to his desk. “I told you already. It would be impartial if you guided him.” 

“I know, I know,” Veer pouts. “No giving him advice, nothing. But I’m still worried you’ll let him go too far, he won’t know what isn’t taught directly—” 

Kalego taps his pen on his cup, a sharp clanging noise to interrupt him. “That’s why I said. You spoil him,” he says, “he will never be a good demon if you keep spoonfeeding him the information.” 

Veer’s eyes meet Kalego’s for a long, weighted moment. 

Finally, Veer tears away first.

“Vassago don’t have as many chances as average demons. You know that,” Veer’s definitely sulking now. “Do you blame us for being protective?” 

The Vassago’s Bloodline Limit and innate tendency to tread the origins is not a good thing. They’re always on the brink of being outlawed, their loyalty to the Crowns only holding on by a frayed, ancient, barely-remembered treaty of some kind.

Everything comes to an end someday.

Someday, the Netherworld will stop tolerating the Vassago. Someday, they will turn against and abandon the Vassago— until then, the children have to take every step with extra care, lest they become the final straw that begins the clan’s downfall.

Needless to say, if any of the dogs ever lose themselves to their Wicked Phase and truly cause enough destruction— they would be eliminated, without exceptions.

Put down and executed, like a feral and rabid mutt that bit a child.

(The Vassago are unjudged by the law, but they inevitably wear collars, don’t they?)

“Stop sulking, it’s a sore sight,” Kalego sighs, “spoiling him will not make him stronger— if these harsh conditions are part of his trials to life, then it is what he must overcome to advance to the next level. He was determined to be a Gimel[3] despite his stronger capabilities because of this very reason.” 

The ranking owl never gives a rank without justification.

Soyo may have the potential to be rank He[5], but his lack of control will ruin him, and thus, he will never truly be anything more than Gimel[3] unless he figures out how to surpass his biggest roadblocks. 

“I am his teacher, and I will guide him on the right path,” Kalego takes a sip of his own tea. “Or what is it, you impudent mutt, do you not trust me?” 

Veer huffs out an exasperated laugh. “I may be easy, but you’re severely underestimating what it takes to truly tame a Vassago.”

Kalego scoffs. “Underestimating him? All he knows is to go crazy and throw tantrums. I want him to be cornered. I want him to be frustrated. I want him to know how truly weak he is, so he’ll finally understand what it means to use his strength.” 

(After all, a cornered dog will bite, but a trained one knows how to bite.)