Amnesia
Sleep now, the monsters are gone— Amaimon/Shiemi
Genre: Horror, Supernatural, Hurt/Comfort, Romance
Disclaimer: I do not own Blue Exorcist
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He is broken, fragmented into shards of what must have been a conscience at one point, drifting in this sea of darkness. But, there is no beacon of light to guide him and the darkness continues to press in, suffocating, even as he reaches for his throat. He cannot feel the pale, cold skin under his nails, however, since his hands are pinned to metal spikes. A whimper escapes his lips.
The silver shines cruelly, the only landmark distinguishable in the clock of eternal night. There are words he wants to say, but the metallic blood in his mouth makes it hard to speak— hard to think and he bites his own tongue in frustration. The appendage is riddled with bite marks, unable to close due to his dwindling power. Yet the pain is grounding in a sense, and for a moment his conscience is painfully clear.
There are blue flames. Anger. Humiliation. A cuckoo clock.
"An...uie..." He manages to growl out, the glow in his cerulean eyes long extinguished. He wants to think that he hears a chuckle, a sound other than his own raspy, labored breaths; the brain, however, is apt to fill in the holes left by silence.
It is not the first time Amaimon has been completely and utterly alone, but it is the longest. Centuries pass inside the clock with only his thoughts to consume him and eventually, he forgets his own name. There is no longer a Rin Okumura. There is no Son of Satan. There is just a demon, skewered on metal spikes like some pseudo-martyr, with nothing but the faint remembrance of something warm.
Then one day there is a light. And sound.
When he wakes there is the sensation of grass against his skin. It brushes lazily against his legs in the summer air, followed by the feeling of cloth against his arms.
Opening his eyes, he is met with a familiar emerald and flinches. The word brother almost escapes his tongue until he sees the blonde strands of hair curled around a hand-picked poppy.
"Who are you...?" He finally manages to ask, throat beyond dry. It hurts to move, to see, to talk, and for a moment he wishes for the silence of his past prison.
"I'm Shiemi Moriyama." A timid voice responds, gentle hands still wrapping bandages around the wounds in his arms and legs. Reaching a clawed hand under his shirt, he realizes the larger cuts and abrasions had already been taken care of.
"Shiemi..." The Earth King murmurs, testing the name against his lips. It does not bring back any memories.
"Then who am I?" He breathes, once the only bandage left to apply is around his head. He sits obediently, dangerous claws stilled in his lap, and allows the strange woman to wrap the white bandages around him.
The blonde turns pink, fidgeting back before dusting off dirt from her hands onto her kimono. "You're Amaimon. The King of Earth."
"Demon King..." He supplies, the only knowledge that his brain has decided as essential.
"D-do you remember anything else?"
Amaimon shakes his head. There are only memories of darkness and pain. He shudders unconsciously, his once bright, cyan orbs a weathered blue.
And against all rational thought, it makes Shiemi want to cry.
She keeps the demon in the storage room where her grandmother used to sleep.
At first, it is much like taking care of a child. There are screams in the dark of night, where she has to rush over to the adjacent building before her mother wakes to hush the monsters of his mind away. She soothes his broken memories of fire and darkness with her best attempt at a lullaby, holding the demon against her lap. He stills immediately, does not fight the warm hands and soft voice until these memories, the ones of a bright-eyed girl and the glowing moon replace the ones of eternal darkness.
"Sleep now, the monsters are gone..." She'd whisper just as his consciousness fades, when the spindles of sleep cause his dull orbs to flicker shut.
He does not get his memories back, despite the flow of time.
There are no remembrances of bloodshed or carnage, no wants to kill or destroy. He instead takes to gardening, his once lethal, sharp nails now used to help dig holes to plant seeds and flowers. When Shiemi is away at 'school' he tends to her plants, sprinkling water and fertilizer onto the soft land. It comes naturally, despite having no memory of taking care of plants before, and soon, her whole garden is brimming with life.
He learns to chat with the plants as she does, mumbles about the sun or Shiemi. The flowers nod in agreement, stems dipping forward in the light breeze.
Like him, they too find her company pleasing. She is a tiny thing, made of wishes and hopes and things he feels that demons shouldn't want. She smiles for him (when he cannot— does not understand emotion), laughs for him, cries for him.
Slowly, some light returns to his eyes.
One morning, when he is sleepily content under the looming shade of a willow tree, a demon other than himself breaks into the garden.
It bounds towards him, soft whines escaping its lips. At first, he is fearful of the creature, but as it trots over, laying a safe distance from him, the fear fades.
"Be...hemoth?" His mind supplies and the hobgoblin barks happily, rushing to his side.
"Behemoth." He utters again, stronger this time.
Memories of the demon on a chain emerge, his faithful companion through Gehenna. But some of the memories do remind him of bloodshed. He remembers the feeling of blood against his fingers is different from that of soil.
There is a characteristic, lopsided grin on his face when Shiemi returns. One that he cannot explain.
He stays longs past any physical needs to do so. All his wounds have healed, the nightmares have stopped, and there are no more monsters in his head. But he stays.
He glides in and out of the storage room, sometimes adventuring into the garden (which he still lets his familiars fuss over) and other times into the bustling world of Assiah. The motion is much like a ghost, except he is sure to return.
Sometimes, he even brings gifts back. Two flower-adorned hair clips which Shiemi immediately fastens into her blonde locks. A book on herbal teas and medicines. Sweets, which he takes a few of before giving.
"You don't have to bring me gifts, Amaimon." She finally tells him one morning while she is sweeping dust and leaves from the wooden porch.
The demon tilts his head curiously to the side, gnawing at a darkened nail. For some reason, her words confuse him. There is a tingle of a memory, of buying things for someone else because he is ordered to do so. Eventually, the Earth King speaks, eyes bright again.
"I know."
He does not tell her when all his memories resurface. He knows now of loneliness, power, anger, humiliation. Of blue flames. Of the son of Satan, Rin Okumura. And, most importantly, of his aniue, Samael (Mephisto Pheles— he corrects).
It's strange, though. His apathetic nature, while not lost in his amnesiac state, returns twofold. Or perhaps it merely seems this way, now that his sleep (when he does sleep, anyway- the bags under his eyes never really change) goes unplagued by nightmares. He is more the same than different, and he's sure the little blonde can tell.
She was good at that, reading him without words. The pair sits in the grass, watching the sun sink below the horizon. At one point, the action would make him feel ill, but now, the darkness is a comfort once more.
"Amaimon?" She questions, hesitant.
He stares unabashed, tracing the contours of her face and the curls of her eyelashes. She is pretty, he realizes. The emerald tinge of her irises reminds him of the soft plants he tended to, not of his brother. A flicker of a smile passes his lips.
"You know you don't have to stay here, right? I'm not forcing you to stay if you have... other places to be." She fidgets nervously, looking down at her lap. Her actions remind him of a sparrow and it's surprisingly endearing. There is a sudden urge to run his hand through her blonde locks but instead, settles for placing his hand over hers. She is warm, like the light he had seen for the first few days trapped in the cuckoo clock.
"I know."
One day, his brother comes by.
It is a warm, spring evening when he waltzes through the gate, unfazed by its wards. He gives a sharp grin, dips forward in a polite bow and speaks.
"My, my, otouto, you've been naughty yet again~!"
Amaimon does not respond, fingers clenched at his side. He is completely still, a sudden anger coiling in his gut. This man had imprisoned him, left him for dead in a darkened abyss for centuries, and now showed up for what? To drag him back to the Void?
"I won't go back."
Mephisto's eyes narrow marginally. "Ah, so you have regained your memories. Hmm, yet you stay. It is as I thought, then. Perhaps you need another century or so to fix your behavior."
"No." He growls, the anger flashing in his cyan orbs.
"But you can't stay here with the little tamer. I know you've grown… fond, but—"
"I will not go back to that place. I will not go back to Gehenna. And I will not go back with you." Amaimon interrupts, feeling the power of earth surge underneath him.
There is the flash of something (anger, contempt, surprise?) in the older demon's eyes as he lets out a sigh, turning away from his younger brother.
"And here I thought you'd go back quietly. I won't force you today, otouto, but you cannot stay here forever. When she is old and on the verge of death, you'll only have me to turn to. Goodbye."
The violet-haired demon leaves with those final parting words, white cape billowing out behind him. The Earth King looks down at the path where his brother walked; a small, yellow poppy had been crushed under his boot.
Turning to his right, he sees Shiemi emerging from her home, clad in her usual set of floral nightclothes. She rubs at her eyes sleepily, pointing to the open gate.
"Was someone here?"
Amaimon pauses before shaking his head. "Sleep now, the monsters are gone."
A/N: Amaimon/Shiemi oneshots will be the death of me XD I hope you enjoyed this little oneshot, even if Amaimon was justified!OOC ^^' I may write a chapter!fic on this, ya know, chronicling their relationship together and throwing in a few curve balls, if I get the chance :P
Review?
-Isis