This takes place in the same universe as I Might Just Disappear, but you don't need to read that to understand this fic.


Hajime wasn't bitter. Maybe a little frustrated by the way things had turned out, but he thought that was justified. Being able to see magic when you couldn't use it yourself objectively sucked. Seeing all the potential around you, knowing you couldn't compare…

But he wasn't bitter. Really. He was still only in high school, there was plenty of time for him to find a teacher. His ability should make it easy. He could already see which of his classmates could use magic, so all he had to do was ask who had taught them.

And then convince their teachers to accept him as a student. Which was the hard part. Most of the magic users he'd heard of only took on one student at a time, so by the time Hajime found out about them, it was already too late. And it wasn't like he had any friends he could ask to recommend him to anyone.

But still! It was fine. He wasn't bitter at all. He'd spent the entire lunch period bent over his desk, mentally reviewing his sorry situation, but that was because he'd wanted to. It had nothing to do with the jealousy that welled up in him when he saw yet another classmate's hands light up with magic while his own remained stubbornly empty. That would be pathetic.

He was pulled from his perfectly reasonable thought process when a piece of paper bounced off his head. "Oi, Hajime!"

Hajime turned around to see who was calling for him. There was a group of boys standing by the window who seemed to be looking at him, so presumably it was one of them, but Hajime couldn't have told you any of their names. There was no way he'd be able to identify them by voice. He focused on the one who seemed to be their leader and hoped for the best. "What?"

The one he was looking at smirked, which seemed like a good sign. "You up for a test of courage?" the boy asked.

"Come on, this is the most boring suburb ever," Hajime said. "There's nowhere around here that would be worth having a test of courage."

"Maybe for a scrub like you," the boy said. "But me and the guys are gonna summon a demon, and we want some witnesses. Unless you're too scared?"

He whipped out a comically evil-looking book. Its cover was black leather embossed with a silver skull and a title in what Hajime thought might be Latin. It had one of those ribbon bookmarks, too, and the boy used it to open to a specific page.

Hajime was prepared to turn around and go back to ignoring his classmates, as per usual, but then he caught a glimpse of the page. His scoff died in his throat. The words seemed to glow as if they contained a green fire, the light shifting enticingly. The ritual was actually magic.

He managed to stammer out a question about when they were planning to do it, but he didn't hear the answer. He was too caught up in his own thoughts. He knew that the ritual being magic didn't necessarily mean it would summon a demon. It could easily have been written as a prank. For all Hajime knew, casting it would create a burst of confetti and an accompanying laugh track.

But if a demon did appear, there was no way these kids would be prepared for it. They were expecting a spooky atmosphere that would let them hype themselves up for mischief. A genuine creature from hell would tear them to shreds. The only responsible thing to do was to stop them.

He turned back to face the blackboard, ignoring the boys' protests. Their opinion of him didn't matter. Hajime knew what he had to do.

Stealing the book from the leader's bag was trivial. He didn't notice it was missing until Hajime had left the building.

His parents wouldn't be home for another few hours, so as soon as he got home, he read through the ritual. It was remarkably straightforward. Most of it was about drawing the right circle and chanting the right words, and while it claimed to require things like the blood of an infant, those parts were dull on the page. The only ingredient that shone like the rest of the ritual was the red candle. Hajime's mother kept one in the kitchen, saying she liked the scent.

Hajime went through the preparations with care. It was easier not to think about what he was doing if he focused on getting the lines of the sigil just right. It didn't help that his room was carpeted, so he had to draw it on taped-together sheets of paper that he then taped to the floor.

He could tell that everything was in place when the circle began to glow with magic. He read over the words one last time, then started to chant. He still nearly lost the thread of the spell when his own hands lit up. Here was everything he'd ever wanted. He could finally prove himself, finally have the powers he'd always dreamed of.

The magic continued to build as he spoke. He almost wished he'd thought to wear sunglasses, but it was far too late to worry about that now. He could only keep reciting the spell.

He delivered the last few syllables with an emphasis that would have been melodramatic in any other situation. The magic flared in response, so bright it blinded him.

When his vision cleared, there was a figure in the center of the circle. Hajime couldn't make out its features past the glow of magic that suffused it. It occurred to him that this was probably the most powerful being he'd ever seen, and that he'd summoned it out of nowhere just because he could. He swallowed thickly.

His anxiety only increased when the maybe-demon addressed him. "What do you want?" it asked. "I'm assuming you called me here for a reason, so spit it out already."

"Um," Hajime said. He tried to come up with an answer that wouldn't get him killed.

It occurred to him that the thing sounded like it was prepared to offer him something. That was how the stories of demons always went, right? And if that was the case, there was only one possible response. "I want to be able to do magic," he said.

"Ah," the demon said. "How boring. But if that's what you want, I can give it to you."

It occurred to Hajime that there was another major plot point in stories about demons. "I'm not going to sell you my soul."

"I wouldn't have asked for it. I have no use for a human soul." Maybe it wasn't a demon, then? Whatever it was, it seemed to be shaking its head. "I just want you to entertain me."

That sounded too easy. Hajime tried to think of how that could be turned around to screw him over. "I won't kill anyone for you. Or torture them, or anything like that. And I won't let you kill or torture me, either."

"That's fine." The creature sounded indifferent. "So do we have a deal?"

"Maybe," Hajime said, trying to sound equally casual. "I'd have to read the fine print before I signed anything."

"Why bother with contracts and signatures? A spoken agreement is enough." The figure's energy, which to this point had been a mossy green, turned blood red. "I, Izuru Kamukura, hereby agree to furnish Hajime Hinata with magical powers unlike any he's ever seen. In exchange, Hajime will be responsible for providing me with entertainment each time he draws on these powers. No humans, including Hajime himself, shall be directly injured or robbed of their soul as a result of this contract. Is this sufficient?"

Hajime tried not to worry about the fact that a possible demon had already known his name. "Y-yeah," he said.

"Then seal the bargain and shake my hand," Izuru said.

Hajime crept to the edge of the circle. This was fine. He'd made sure that no one would be hurt because of this, and while he wasn't sure why Izuru was being so accommodating, it didn't matter. He was going to have power of his own. Everything else was secondary.

He took Izuru's hand and shook it firmly.

There was another flare of magic. This time, Hajime was expecting it, and he managed to close his eyes in time to keep from being blinded. When he opened them again, Izuru was gone, and Hajime felt exactly the same. There was no magic shining under his skin. It hadn't worked after all.

No sooner had he thought the words than he felt a strange sensation, as if he were being kicked out of his own body. He watched his fingers snap as if in a movie. Magic sparked with the motion. A breeze blew through the room, blowing out the candle and tearing the papers from the floor.

And then Hajime was back in control. The magic had already fled from his fingers.

Hajime was pretty sure he should have been freaking out. His body had just moved without his consent, which was the plot of so many horror movies. He should also be elated. He'd managed to use magic, and with a level of power and control he'd never let himself dream of. This was the worst and best day of his life.

And yet, he felt nothing. He might as well have been watching the weather.

He heard Izuru's voice from the back of his mind. "I'd forgotten what intense emotions you teenagers have about everything," it said. "This might not be entirely boring after all."

The implications of its words hit Hajime like a freight train. Izuru's idea of entertainment was stealing emotions, and Hajime had just let it. He wasn't even getting magic of his own out of the bargain. It was all Izuru. Even if no one else knew, even if Hajime got the recognition he'd craved for so long, he would still know that he wasn't anything special. He was the least interesting, least talented, least magical person around, and now he'd shackled himself to a demon for the rest of his life.

The thoughts kept circling in his mind, how he'd ruined everything in a single afternoon. He felt absolutely nothing.