"I'm off to work now! Bye!"
"Please take care, my lord!"
These words had become routine in apartment 201, though even now they were said with no less enthusiasm. Today, however, they were spoken a little earlier in the day. Maou had elected to take on a shift to cover another co-worker, and as a result, that morning he scarfed down the quick meal Ashiya had prepared for him and departed while his general was still making breakfast for himself and Urushihara.
It really was a pity Maou had to leave early, because Ashiya had decided to use the pressure cooker he'd miraculously won from the raffle draw. He gazed adoringly at the shiny new contraption, and with careful, nimble fingers plopped the vegetables he'd been chopping up into the water, which had already begun to boil. Just for good measure, he wiped away the sluices that splashed on the sides, but soon had to draw the rag away as the inside began to heat up.
He left it open as he prepared the carrots, slicing them thinly and neatly so that they'd boil faster. He'd only bought them the other day, just to try them out in the pressure cooker, and he couldn't wait to find out the difference in taste.
Sssssssshhhhh-clunk. "…Maou left already?"
"Wow, you're up early, Urushihara," Ashiya noted, genuinely surprised.
"I didn't have any choice," Urushihara grumbled. He stuck his disheveled head out from the top closet shelf and blinked blearily at the kitchen. "That pressure cooker's noisy." He frowned at the device in question.
"Well, it's going to give us a better breakfast than we've had in months, and it got you up earlier than usual, so I consider that a plus," Ashiya replied, smiling. He finished chopping the carrots and carried the cutting board and knife to the cooker. He gently slid them into the now-bubbling water, carefully scraping every scrap so that none of it got on the edge of the cooker.
Urushihara watched all of this with barely-concealed disbelief. "You're so weird," he muttered, rolling back onto his shelf.
An eyebrow twitched, but Ashiya was determined to keep his irritation in check this time. "Come down and set the table," he said calmly.
"You always end up doing it anyways, so why bother asking me?"
"For Satan's sake, is it so hard to—ah!" Ashiya hissed when the back of his hand touched the inside of the cooker, which by this point was steaming hot. He jerked his hand back and dropped both the knife and the cutting board, which clattered to the countertop and then the floor. The knife, thankfully, fell handle down a distance away from him, but the cutting board dropped straight on his foot.
"OW!"
Ashiya grabbed his foot with his uninjured hand and hopped up and down for a few seconds before leaning against the counter. His massaged his foot for a minute until the throbbing subsided, at which point he could turn his attention to his hand, which had begun to sting badly. Limping around to the sink, he turned it on and ran the raw skin under the cool water. He sighed, then used his other hand to close the pressure cooker.
"You okay?" Urushihara's normally bored voice held a faint note of concern.
"Fine, thank you for asking," Ashiya muttered sarcastically.
He didn't turn around to look at his roommate, but he could picture his moody expression as he shuffled back into his closet. "Sorry I asked," Urushihara retorted, before the closet door closed with a snap.
A part of Ashiya regretted his response, but he couldn't help himself. Sighing again, he turned off the water and flexed his hand a few times, before holding it open and up in the sunlight.
All these months, and he still caught himself being surprised at what he saw. It had grown less frequent as time went on, but he still had moments where his hand would move in front of his vision, and a part of him would be astonished to find pink skin instead of black armor. Pink, sensitive skin, soft like when he'd shed his exoskeleton and expose the new, fragile shell underneath. Except this time, it felt as if someone had torn his skin away early, and he hadn't had a chance to grow it back.
The only reason his foot had gotten hurt was because he hadn't bothered to move it out of the way. Why would he, when his iron armor would protect him? He had to admit it was a risky downside, as having impenetrable armor had slowed his people's reflexes over the generations. Now, it seemed, he was paying the price for it.
A sudden feeling of vulnerability washed over him, now that he was thinking about it. Every single bit of him felt exposed. He fought the urge to curl up on himself, do any pathetic attempt to protect himself from the world.
He was glad when, at that moment, the pressure cooker chose to beep. He turned off the pressure and opened the lid, smiling at the sight of the cooked vegetables inside. He allowed his actions to brush away his thoughts, and went about setting the table, forgetting entirely that he'd wanted to make Urushihara do it.
But during breakfast, when Urushihara had finally hauled himself from his den and actually joined him for breakfast, he couldn't stop himself from asking, "Urushihara…do you ever miss your wings?"
Urushihara stopped chewing. "My wings?"
His surprised stare went on for several seconds, and Ashiya fidgeted uncomfortably under the scrutiny of it. But just when he was about to dismiss the matter, Urushihara shrugged and replied, "Not really," and reached to the pile of vegetables in the middle for another helping.
"Oh." Several minutes of silence, punctuated by chewing and the scraping of chopsticks against bowls, went on. Then, "Why not?"
Urushihara's glance was briefer this time, but no less piercing. "I just don't," he answered.
His bowl empty at last, he set his dishes down and rose, only to take a few steps and plop down again in front of his computer. His earphones were plugged in and his music running before Ashiya even had the chance to berate him for, yet again, leaving his dishes on the table. But it wouldn't have mattered anyways, as Ashiya had instead retreated back into his own thoughts, and it was without even a spark of annoyance that he picked up all the dishes and put them in the sink.
He was putting the last dish in the dish rack and drying his hands when Urushihara's voice came again.
"I don't think about it."
"Huh?" Ashiya glanced at his roommate, but the purple-haired NEET hadn't turned around. The only difference was that he'd removed his headphones. Just when he thought he might have misheard, Urushihara said, "I don't miss them, because I don't think about it. There's a lot more interesting stuff to do than miss what you don't have. And anyways, all we have to do is get enough fear and despair and we can manifest our true forms."
He typed something, and the screen changed to another video. When he didn't say anything further, Ashiya figured he'd finally finished, and put back the rag he'd been holding this entire time.
…What was that just now?
A small smile twitched its way onto Ashiya's mouth, before it was covered up by his usual sternness. "I'm heading out for a bit, so don't buy anything while I'm gone," he said, raising his voice a little to carry through Urushihara's headphones.
"Then I'll buy something when you get back."
"No, not even when I get back!"
"All right, all right, fine! Geeze, get going already!" Urushihara twisted around for the first time, his only visible eye flashing with annoyance.
Ashiya huffed, but didn't reply, and took his wallet before heading out the door.
Once he was out on the staircase, however, he allowed himself a small chuckle. It was a sunny day, and he put up a hand to shield himself from the brightness before continuing down the steps.
The sunlight felt nice and warm on his skin, he noticed.
RN: Just something I thought up. I wondered if the demons ever missed their old forms at times. I mean, it must be a pretty big shock to go from something as powerful as a demon to something as vulnerable as a human. There are two more chapters coming up, one for Urushihara, and one for Maou. If you want me to continue further, let me know if you have an idea for extra chapters. I'm just sort of doing this on the side as I work on my other story, How you have fallen from Heaven, Morningstar.
