A/N: My first attempt at Zatch Bell fanfiction, and a rather ambitious first project. An extended fanfiction exploring what happens after the end of the manga. Name usage is drawn mostly from the specific scanlations I was reading, with some changes simply because I liked other spellings better. I will likely be taking great liberties with the demon world as a whole, and I should probably note that I haven't watched the anime or the movies, so I'm drawing strictly from manga canon. Please enjoy!

In most circumstances, a letter is not a cause for celebration. Even in a world dominated by email and the telephone, receiving a rare personal letter is more of an amusing triviality than an event of real importance.

Sometimes, though, a letter can change everything. The former demon partners had learned that once already.

"Kiyo! You're going to be late!"

"I'll be fine, mom!" Kiyomaro replied to his mother's call as he bounded down the stairs, still in the process of doing up his uniform. He was never able to understand why high school uniforms were so much more complicated than their middle school counterparts; wouldn't a simple blazer work just as well? But for all his questioning, he still had to wear it. It would surely remain one of the great enigmas that even an answer-talker couldn't solve.

With his bag slung over his shoulder, he raced out the door and in the direction of the bus stop. In truth, he didn't need to. If he walked at a brisk pace, he would make it there right on time, by his calculations. But he ran to the bus every morning, and from the bus stop to school, just for the sake of keeping in shape. He didn't exactly have time for a complicated workout regimen, so for the past year he had done little things like that to keep his body in shape. After all, he didn't want to have fallen behind Zatch when they finally met up again.

He slowed to a brisk walk to catch his breath about half a block away from the bus shelter, having put all of his energy into the initial sprint. Although Zatch and the demon world had always been somewhere in the back of his mind for this past year, he had been thinking about him a lot lately. Maybe it was to do with the fact that it was almost exactly a year since he had last seen him. March 8th was the exact date of their final battle with Brago, and it was late February.

The only person waiting at the bus shelter when he leisurely strode up to it was an old lady pushing a cart filled with shopping bags. His school was top level and took students from several different towns, so it wasn't uncommon for students to almost never run into each other outside of class. It made him a little nostalgic for the days when all of his classmates lived nearby, and would often stop by his house for help with their homework. Still, he knew he was lucky to be a student at such a prestigious academy, so he didn't complain and simply enjoyed his memories.

Still— he'd had a hard time making new friends at his school. His classmates were friendly enough and he had several acquaintances among them, who he knew he could rely on as partners for projects or to give him notes when he was out sick, but he wasn't particularly close to any of them. He had realized early on that it had less to do with his middle school friends and more to do with the other friends he had made during his time at Mochinoki, both human and demon. It was hard to really connect with someone who hadn't been through a life-changing experience like that.

I should email Megumi.. he thought as the bus pulled up at the shelter. He helped the old woman load her cart onto the bus before taking his own seat at the back. His school was the second-to-last stop on the line, so although it was within commuting distance, it was still quite a trip from his house to there. His mother had debated moving closer so he wouldn't have to travel as far, but he'd told her not to worry and that he could get there every morning without any trouble. Truth be told, he had his own reasons for not wanting to move— a nagging, superstitious fear in the back of his mind that said if he went anywhere, Zatch wouldn't be able to find him again.

It was true that he still had his friends from the demon king battle, and they still kept in touch, but they weren't as close as they used to be— physically, at least, although they had drifted apart a little without their demons binding them together. Sunbeam had gone back to Africa with Sister Elle, Megumi and Folgore both resumed their careers, Li-en was still living in the mountains with her grandparents, Professor Riddle had essentially adopted Vino as his own grandchild, Apollo was still running his family's company, Elly was recovering from her illness, and he hadn't heard from either Dufaux or Sherry in a long time but he assumed both were doing well. Every so often he would get an email or a phone call or a letter from one of his many fellow demon partners, wanting to catch up on how his life had been since they'd last seen each other, but without the demon battle to pull all of them together they didn't really have much reason to see each other in person. Megumi had stopped by a few months ago when her tour had come to the next city over, but he really hadn't seen anyone aside from that.

The bus trundled along its route, stopping every so often to load and unload passengers, but Kiyomaro's mind was far away from the bus ride and even farther away from the school it was taking him to. Worlds away, in fact.

"Enough of this."

Sherry stood up with such speed that it was almost impossible to track her movements between sitting and standing. At the same time she slammed the piano's cover down so fast that her instructor barely had time to pull her fingers away before they were crushed.

"Miss Sherry.." Albert said, his voice a carefully cultivated mixture of patience and concern. Sherry hated to be addressed with pity, and he was not the sort to address her harshly, no matter what she did. It simply wasn't his place.

"I see no point in continuing this," she said firmly, making a wide sweeping gesture at the grand piano. She turned her attention to the instructor. "You're dismissed."

The woman gathered her things and left quite quickly, her hands shaking. Sherry's outbursts were controlled and cool, but that only served to make her more frightening. Added to the fact that they seemed to be happening with increasing frequency, and her instructors and staff had been disappearing in rather large numbers. Albert had pledged to see her through all of her difficulties no matter what, but others were quite unwilling to deal with her demeanour simply for a job.

"What is the point of all of this..?" the young noblewoman asked, staring out of the large picture window that opened out onto the courtyard. One of the gardeners was trimming back the rose bushes, but otherwise the outside of the house seemed to be completely deserted. When Sherry's parents had been the head of the family, the house had always been a bustling centre of activity, but ever since she had taken over the staff numbers had slowly dwindled. Now the household was managed by what amounted to a skeleton staff, with only the most senior and dedicated servants remaining. Unlike her family, Sherry didn't even make any attempt to fake being an open person; she had always been closed with all but her closest companions. "I honestly don't see how learning how to play the piano or arrange flowers or speak with eloquence is going to improve my life."

"As the head of the family, you are of course permitted to end your studies whenever you wish," Albert said, bowing at the waist. "You are a grown woman now, after all."

Sherry sighed and walked closer to the window, hands resting on the windowsill. Her breath clouded the glass as she rested her forehead against it, but she wasn't trying to see anything in particular regardless. Albert pursed his lips. Not only were her outbursts getting more frequent, but so too were her moments of melancholy, those dark quiet moments where she retreated entirely into herself. Her heart and mind were both somewhere far away, and pulling them back was simply not a task that Albert was equipped for.

"Perhaps Miss Sherry would like to move her kendo lesson up," he suggested. Kendo was a traditional learned skill within the Belmont family, one that Sherry had been learning since she was a young child, and beginning in the time of the demon king battle she had added several forms of martial arts training and marksmanship lessons to the roster. These days such things seemed to be the only activities that got her mind off of whatever was troubling her so deeply, if only because they occupied both her mind and body so entirely. "And after that, perhaps we can arrange to visit Miss Koko at her school. I have heard from several sources that she will be receiving an award of excellence for her academic achievements."

Sherry considered the two suggestions carefully before stepping away from the window. "..very well. Have my kendo lesson moved up to after lunch," she said, turning on her heel and walking towards the double doors at the far end of the room. "After that, arrange for us to leave to see Koko tomorrow, so we can congratulate her."

Albert nodded, somewhat troubled by the nature of her response. A year ago, Sherry would have been overwhelmed with joy upon hearing of Koko's success, but now it seemed that not even that would arouse a deeply emotional reaction from her. Perhaps her distance from Koko was to be blamed, or the fact that she had no other real companions aside from her. He recalled her corresponding once or twice with the young prodigy Kiyomaro, but she was otherwise quite alone.

It seemed to Albert as though she had shut up her heart, afraid of what might escape if she opened it again.

"How long do you think you'll be staying for?"

The old man had tears in his eyes as he spoke, tears of gratitude for Dufaux having helped craft an irrigation system that would get their village through the long dry season they had been promised. The answer-talker observed him calmly.

"Just for a few days," he replied in his flat voice. "Just long enough to rest."

He had not ceased his wanderings since he had left the fate of the demon world in the hands of Kiyomaro and his allies. The world had become one long trail for him to follow, his abilities always guiding him to the next place that needed him. At first he had been curious about this strange compulsion, then irritated; he didn't want his answer-talker ability to completely dominate his free will. But no matter how he tried to ignore it, he always seemed to be led where his help was needed. He had done everything from cure sick children to solving crop crises to ending civil wars before they even had a chance to begin. After a while he had stopped trying to resist and had gone wherever that nagging part of his mind led him. He now saw it not as a stripping of his free will, but as a message from a power that knew better than the master who controlled it, instructing him on how he could do good with an ability that had been born from pure hate. It seemed like the sort of thing Kiyomaro and his friends would be proud of, if they had known about it. He was sure Kiyomaro would know if he asked the right questions, but he was also sure he hadn't. He had sent him an email the last time he had been somewhere that had a public library and internet access, several months prior, just to tell him how things had been. He hadn't read the reply yet, if there had been one. Aside from that, he hadn't seen any of the other former demon masters, aside from a brief encounter with Kafka Sunbeam and Elle Chivas in the African savanna when he had been wandering that continent. Now he was somewhere in Europe, although the precise location didn't matter much to him.

"If there is anything else we can do to repay you, don't hesitate to let us know," the old man said, visibly overcome with relief. Like the rest of his village, he had been on the brink of starvation when Dufaux had arrived with the key to their salvation. He had taught them how to barter with the nearby villages and how to supplement their food stocks with wild plants, fish, and game, to ensure they would survive until the next harvest season. It had taken longer than his endeavours usually did, but he felt it was worth it. It wasn't simply a matter of emergency, but one of sustainability. Dry years in the future wouldn't threaten the village's crop supplies so long as they listened to his instructions and maintained the irrigation system, and even in the event of a large loss of crops by natural disaster, they would be able to gather enough food to survive. He felt.. strengthened by this deed.

"Your gratitude is enough," he replied, his voice still a quiet monotone. He hadn't quite worked his way past that yet, and he wasn't sure he ever would— or that he really wanted to. He simply wasn't the sort of person who expressed deep emotion. "If you and your village do as I said, the fall harvest should be enough to feed you and with some left over for trading purposes."

"Yes, yes— I will personally make sure that your instructions are followed to the letter," the old man said, repeatedly clasping his hands together and bowing his head in gratitude like he was prostrating himself before his god. Dufaux turned to the window of the small room they had lent him to rest in, staring out at the tilled fields and the people working on the irrigation system. The old man seemed to get the idea and stepped out, gently closing the door behind him.

He wondered, idly, how long this wandering lifestyle could last. Surely there would never be an end to the people he could help with his abilities. The only way his journey would end would be if he chose to allow it, finding a place that he could call home. The question then became whether he would ever allow himself to do that— whether he could choose outright to ignore this "calling" that he hadn't asked for in the first place. His gift had been born of pain, suffering, and hate— but it could be used for great good as well as great misfortune. If he stopped his wanderings, did that make him a bad person? Or did it simply make him a human being who could not forever live the life of a wandering hermit?

Even his answer-talker ability couldn't find the answers to those questions. And so he would keep wandering.

"Li-en, could you get some fresh herbs from the garden? I'd like to refill the rack."

"Yes, grandmother."

The door slid shut behind Li-en as she half-ran down the back stairs, taking the last two at once in a flying leap that ended with her landing perfectly on her feet. She felt momentarily triumphant at the gymnastic endeavour before her mood faded back into the quiet contentment of everyday life. Here in the mountains, it was hard to be troubled by worldly matters. None of the air or noise pollution of her hometown of Hong Kong permeated this peaceful place. Most of the food people ate was local, come from the farms and gardens of their neighbours. Compared to her painful existence as the daughter of a criminal, it was bliss. It could only have been better if—

She stopped her mind from wandering too far down that path. She was happy with her life, and dwelling on the past would only invite unnecessary pain. She and Wonrei had come to terms with their inevitable separation long before it had happened. It had been painful trying to explain why he wouldn't be coming back to her grandparents, but they had seemed to understand, and hadn't resented Wonrei for it. It was all she could have hoped for.

She knelt to pluck sprigs of fresh, green herbs from the garden behind their house. They wanted for nothing here— they had the idyllic pastoral life that so many yearned for without any concerns about clean water or plentiful food. She was happy. She was.

With her hands full, she carried the varied herbs inside where she and her grandmother would wash and separate them. After that, some would be set aside to dry and be used whole, while others would be mixed and crushed to create spices. They didn't tend any poultry or livestock themselves, but whenever Li-en bought meat from the neighbourhood market, her grandmother would cook it with her own special herb and spice mixtures. It would be a feast for the three of them. She wondered idly if her grandmother was going to send her into town for that night's meal or if she was simply preparing the herbs just in case. Either way, two sets of hands would be better than one. They would get the work done faster, and then perhaps her grandmother would have time before dinner to continue teaching her how to sew her own cheongsam. She had been working on making one in her downtime, simply to give herself something to do. There was only so much martial arts training she could do with no adequate teacher around, and simply throwing herself into working on the farm and around the house would burn her out before long. It helped to have a relaxing hobby.

"Here they are, grandmother," she announced, sliding the door shut behind her with her foot. She spread the herbs out on the kitchen table, careful not to mix them up too much and make their job more difficult.

"Good girl," the old woman said, tottering towards the table to start separating and preparing them. "After this, I'll start cooking so dinner will be ready by the time your grandfather gets home. He works so hard all day, it would be a shame not to have food ready for him when he returns."

Li-en smiled at the small woman as they sat down and began carefully combing through the herbs, separating them into individual piles depending on what they were and separating them again depending on what they were going to be used for. Her grandmother and grandfather had so many small ways of showing how much they loved each other, and she always felt like her own heart was growing whenever she spent time in their company. Even more than the peacefulness, than the fresh air and quiet tranquillity— even more than those things, that was why she had chosen to stay with them for so long. They were her dearest family.

Unable to stop herself in time, she let her eyes wander out the window and her brain wander even farther, wondering if she would ever again have a person that she could feel like that about.

The weather was starting to get warmer and wetter on the African savanna, with the spring season fast approaching. Once March came, the rain and humidity would come with it. For the time being, Sunbeam tried to simply enjoy the mild weather and temperatures. He had been here for more than a year already, and was quite used to the temperamental weather conditions. He was the sort of person who simply went with the flow, after all. Elle hadn't adjusted quite so easily, but she was doing well enough.

A herd of zebra grazed dozily near the house he and Elle shared. For several months after he had first moved in, shortly after Umagon had returned to the demon world, animals had refused to come near the house; then, over time, he had befriended them. Now they moved about freely, just as they had before the structure had been built. He was glad to be able to live in harmony with the animals here, where he was surrounded by nature and the flow of life. He loved the city, too, but getting away from it all was just.. groovy. Too much so for words, in fact. He often tried to describe how he felt, living so close to nature, but 'groovy' seemed to be the only thing he could ever come back to.

"Would you like your eggs sunny side up or scrambled?" Elle called from inside, over the sound of sizzling saucepans. He smiled and pushed away from the guardrail on his porch that he'd been leaning over, wandering back inside. The house smelled strongly of oil and butter, and Elle stood carefully tending to breakfast.

"It doesn't matter to me. Whatever's easier," he replied, walking up behind her and putting his arms around her midsection. She giggled and squirmed, clearly embarrassed by the sudden display of affection.

"Ah! If you don't let go of me, I won't be able to finish cooking," she said firmly, tapping the back of his hand with the wooden spoon she was holding. He obligingly released her and allowed her to get back to her work.

Elle had formally left the convent not long after the end of the demon king battle, but she still did God's work, in her own way. She wasn't a missionary and didn't preach any sort of doctrine, not by a long shot, but no matter where she went or what she did she advocated for peace and good will. It was why she had become a Sister in the first place, and although she had left for her own reasons, it was something she would always hold close to her heart.

The frying pan sizzled and popped as Elle cracked one egg into it, then another. They had made the trip to the market in the beat-up pickup truck Sunbeam had salvaged and restored, and were celebrating. Eating non-perishables got old after a while.

"Do you think Momon is studying like he said he would?" she asked suddenly as she watched the clear egg start to turn white as it cooked.

"Hm?" Sunbeam said, taking a drink of the coffee she had left on the table for him.

"Before Momon went back to the demon world, he told me he was going to study so he could help people like Kiyomaro does," she explained, switching her wooden spoon for a spatula and reaching for one of the half-prepared plates sitting off to the side. "I was just thinking about whether he lived up to that promise or not."

Sunbeam was silent for a moment before smiling at her. "Definitely," he replied. "He wouldn't want you to be disappointed in him when you two meet up again. So he's definitely been studying."

"You really think so?" she asked, smiling radiantly back at him.

"Of course," he nodded. "You two are partners, after all."

Elle's face had lit up in a way that made his heart swell to see. "I'm sure Umagon is working hard, too," she said, shuffling eggs onto plates. "So you'll be proud of him when you see each other."

They had this sort of conversation about once a week, and it always went back to the topic of getting to see their partners again. Although he had occasional pangs of doubt, Sunbeam knew in his heart that they would see them again. After all, it just wouldn't be groovy of the universe to give them such fantastic friends and then take them away, just like that, never to be seen again. He turned his head to stare out across the savanna as Elle started to hum to herself.

They would see their demon partners again. They had to.

"On set in ten, Megumi!"

"Got it!"

She adjusted the straps of her dress so they wouldn't slide down her shoulders during the show and took a deep breath. The controlled breathing exercises Dufaux had taught them to help in the fight against Clear Note had grown to be useful in dealing with pre-show jitters, although she couldn't help but wonder what he would think about his techniques being used for something like that.

Outside her dressing room, Megumi could hear the excitement of the crowd, waiting in anticipation for their idol. She was still as popular as she had ever been, and possibly even more so. All of the random disappearances and show cancellations during the battle for the demon king had added an air of intrigue and mystery to her, and the tabloids had been all over it. Between the Millennium Demon, Faudo, and Clear Note emergencies, rumours had been flying about everything from a secret boyfriend to a secret pregnancy. It had stoked the fires of her popularity, and her manager had told her to run with it, only answering such questions if they came up during an interview. She had obliged, since she really didn't care what people thought about her personal life. She didn't really mind if they wanted to grasp at straws.

The bow on the front of her dress was crooked, and she sighed when she straightened it out. The design reminded her of Tio, but it didn't take much to remind her of Tio these days. It was hard to deny that she missed her a lot, and it was starting to get to her. She didn't quite get that same rush of adrenaline from her shows the way she did when she knew Tio was watching her from the front row or the wings of the stage, she wasn't as peppy and upbeat either on stage or off, and she was having trouble sleeping. At first she had tried to keep it from affecting her show performances, but over time it had seeped in too much for her to stop. She missed having a friend with her all the time who would get up early to watch her practice, or help her sneak away when she was supposed to be practising, or cheer her on from the sidelines.

Her cell phone pinged, indicating an incoming email. She picked it up to look at the name and smiled when she saw it was from Kiyomaro. Although they didn't get to see each other much, since he was wrapped up in school and she was wrapped up in work, Kiyomaro always went to great lengths to keep in touch. He wanted to make sure no one ever forgot the ordeal they went through a little over a year ago, although she highly doubted anyone ever would. Their human allies and friends had all been people who had deep, deep bonds with their demons, bonds that wouldn't erode over time or be forgotten just because life got in the way. She knew they would all remember their demon partners for the rest of their lives, even if they forgot everything else.

She was in the middle of typing a response, telling Kiyomaro about how her current tour was going, when the stage manager reappeared in her doorway. "Two minutes to showtime, Megumi! Better get out here!" she said, and then she was gone before Megumi could even say anything. She set her phone aside and gave herself one last look-over in the mirror, ensuring there wasn't a hair out of place.

Okay, Megumi, she thought, giving herself the mental pep-talk that Tio was no longer around to give. Go out there and give it your all! You can't disappoint a single fan!

With those words echoing in her mind, Megumi stepped out of her dressing room and into the wings of the stage, then onto the stage itself. Her arrival was greeted with the thunderous roaring of the crowd, a thousand people simultaneously screaming out their love for her. If she concentrated really hard, she could almost picture a little head of bright red hair bobbing up and down in the front row, screaming at her to do her best.

"Welcome, everyone!" she yelled into the mic, and the crowd roared back. "Are you ready for a great show tonight?!"

Someday, Tio, she thought as her background music kicked in, readying her for her first song. Someday you'll be able to cheer me on like that again!

"There you go," Folgore said brightly as his pen twirled off the paper with a flourish. The young woman blushed and clutched the signed CD cover carefully to her bosom, giggling.

"Thank you, Folgore," she said happily, almost deliriously. "Even after I interrupted your quiet time like that.."

"Nonsense, bambina," he said, giving her a charming smile. "I always have time and an autograph for a beautiful woman."

The fan swooned and nearly fainted, but managed to stay upright long enough to scamper off in sheer delight. He sighed and pushed his wild hair back out of his eyes; it just couldn't be helped. Even now he was weak to the cries of a beautiful, large-breasted woman. No matter how inconvenienced, he couldn't deny an autograph to a fan, particularly of that nature. He disappeared back inside his hotel room, the door locking behind him. Finally, some alone time. Since he had arrived in Germany to promote his new CD, he had been swarmed with fans nonstop; everywhere from the airport to his hotel to the CD signing and beyond was filled with beautiful women who would do anything to get a piece of him. Oh, the life of a famous pop sensation..

He paused by his vanity, the large single-mirrored kind that had been ordered specifically for him upon the booking of his hotel, and picked up a small papier mache lion that was sitting on its edge. He brought the unfinished creation with him wherever he went, positing it as a sort of good luck charm. It certainly never failed to bring a smile to his face, no matter how tired he was or what had happened over the course of the day. One look at the bumpy, uneven mane and the protruding lump of a muzzle made him grin instantly. Of course, sometimes that happy grin was followed by a much sadder smile as he got lost in the other memories that surrounded the lion. That was okay, too. Sometimes being sad was good for the soul.

Every day he wondered how Kanchome was doing, whether he and Papipurio and Goomu were still getting along, whether he was being picked on at school or if the teasing he had always talked about had stopped since he had proven himself so strong in the battle for the demon king. He kept the letter Kanchome had sent him in his suitcase along with the lion, so that it went with him wherever he went. If he was still doing as well as he had been doing when he'd written the letter, Folgore knew he would be doing just fine. Still, he couldn't help but worry a little. The little hippo had been his responsibility, after all.

"Mr Folgore?" came a voice at the door, one he recognized as the hotel manager. "Terribly sorry to bother you, but, ah— there's a bit of a situation outside the hotel. A woman starting showing off her autograph to the people outside, and now there's a crowd of women all demanding your autograph.."

"Say no more," he announced, opening the door and flipping his hair dramatically. "If these bambinas need Parco Folgore, then they will receive Parco Folgore."

He was particularly careful to make sure the door locked behind him on his way out. He could replace just about anything else, but the lion and the letter— those things were his irreplaceable, priceless treasures. They were one-of-a-kind originals, after all, and their creator didn't even live in this world anymore. How many people in the world could boast that?

The signboard above the nursing station lit up, indicating that a patient in room 113 was paging for a nurse. Chita paused in her bed sheet folding and smoothed out her jacket, her rubber-soled slippers making little squeaking noises as she walked across the linoleum. She smiled at the patient as she opened the door.

"Good morning, Hiro," she greeted cheerfully, straightening out the bedsheets on the empty bed closest to the door as she passed by. The patient smiled back at her from his bed.

"Good morning, Chita," he responded, folding his hands over his lap. "I'm sorry to bother you so early."

"It's alright, I was just folding some laundry," she said as she took her place next to his bedside. "What is it that you needed?"

"Would you mind getting me some water? Mari isn't going to be here until later this afternoon and I don't think I can get out of bed without some help just yet," he asked, sounding sheepish about bothering her for something like that. She just continued to smile at him.

"Of course. I'll be right back," she said, turning on her heel and walking out of the room. She didn't mind little tasks like that. Even the smallest things made her feel like she was being helpful.

She'd taken up the hospital job not long after she'd returned home from Japan. She'd gone to a small local school to take her courses, and since most places were understaffed, it hadn't been hard to get a job. She'd always wanted to be either a doctor or a nurse when she was a child, but she didn't have the academic aptitude or the money for medical school. When she'd had her accident, she'd put her life entirely on hold. Told herself that there was no way someone like her could be a nurse. If she couldn't even go out in public without being stared at and feeling ashamed, how could she help people? It had seemed pointless to even try. And then..

You still haven't.. faced forward, have you? Live.. strong. Believe in yourself.. your wound means nothing.. laugh more, stand up straight.. fall in love..

Those words had echoed in her in a way nothing else ever had. The counselling her parents had pushed her into had been a farce, filled with small-minded people who couldn't hope to understand how she felt; the "support" of the people around her had been a thinly-veiled way of saying 'stop acting so weird and get back to normal so we can pretend nothing ever happened to you'. She'd shut herself off from the rest of the world not only to escape the people who stared and gaped, but also the ones with false pretences of "helping" her, when all they really wanted was for her to act the way they wanted. Like they had been the ones in the accident, not her. But Rodeaux— Rodeaux who had been a jerk from the start, always told her how much he resented her, was violent and angry and never had a single good word to say about anyone else..

His words had meant something. He didn't care one way or another about her eye. All he cared about was the fact that she let it slow her down. When he'd looked at her he hadn't seen an injury but the weak-willed person cowering behind it, surrounded by vain idiots and pretentious dirt bags.

She nearly dropped the paper cup she'd been filling up in the break room sink when she felt the water pour over onto her fingers. She'd been so distracted by her own thoughts that she hadn't noticed that she was filling the cup to overflowing. She quickly poured out the excess and shoved on a lid and a straw, glad no one was around to see how distracted she was. She walked back towards room 113, her hands shaking only slightly.

Live strong, believe in yourself, fall in love..

Chita had decided that no matter what tried to pull her down in life, she was going to live up to Rodeaux's expectations of her. After all, if she didn't, what would he say when they met up again?

And she knew it was going to happen some day. Knew it.

Kiyomaro's backpack slid off of his shoulder, hitting the floor with a dull thud.

"Kiyo, what was that? Are you alright?" his mom called up the stairs.

"Uh— I'm fine, mom!" he called back, willing his muscles to move again as he knelt to scoop up the books that had fallen out of his bag and toss them onto his bed. Barely able to keep his hands and legs from shaking, he walked over to the desk and picked up the piece of paper that was sitting squarely in the middle of it. "Hey, mom? Did you leave a letter on my desk?"

"No dear," his mother replied. She asked him something else, but the question went in one ear and out the other. The letter was holding too much of his attention for him to pay much to her. He wasn't even sure why the sight of it sent his entire body quivering, just that he knew there was something important about it.

Carefully, like he was handling a bomb, he opened the envelope and pulled out the thick paper. His stomach clenched as he started to read the blocky, thick script.

To the recipient of this letter,

The Council of the Imperial Demon Crown would like to formally thank you for your participation in the last God's Trial. We understand that many of you underwent great hardships to help your partner obtain the crown, not the least of which was the hardship of having to say goodbye to your partner after an extended period of working together. As the previous letter sent by your former partners no doubt shows, many of them are also disappointed by the separation. Thus, by order of His Royal Majesty the Imperial King Zatch Bell, those former partners who have received this letter are cordially invited to come to the location specified by 6pm in three months time. Those who attend will be given a week's worth of time to meet and speak with their former demon partner. It is advised that you pack accordingly. Upon copying down the enclosed location, please burn this letter and the envelope. Your presence at the location will be considered your RSVP.

The Council of the Imperial Demon Crown

"..mom?" Kiyomaro called out, momentarily unaware of how weak his voice was. "I think I want to take a week's vacation this summer," he continued, his voice cracking as tears welled up in the corners of his eyes.

All around the world, several dozen people read, cried, and planned vacations alongside him.