I.
i. In the beginning there was the Lord God and God alone. The place that both bore him and which he bore himself was called Atzilut, the World of Emanations. From this realm, all others were born of His will, in each bestowing powers of his to his kins. For once Atzilut was whole, then He formed Beriah, the World of Creation for his progenies, the Gods, to rule.
ii. As He lorded above them, so he charged them lordship over the World following. At His command, they, too, took their hands and formed with their Father, the Lord, Yetzirah, World of Formation, the realm of immortals made in their own image to serve at the pleasure of these Gods, the Angels. And the Lord himself created those highest among them, the Arch Angels.
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ix. The Gods begat many angels and the Worlds grew small. And as the Gods struggled between themselves the highest of those Gods, Satan, implored his Father to form yet another. And so, at his beloved Satan's request, the Lord created a final material realm, a World of Action, Assiah, where all were equal and free and he commanded that none have dominion over this place.
"Emon~!" Samael's muffled voice sang, "Could we request an audience with you~?"
Amaimon sat up in his bed with a grunt and glared at the shared wall of their rooms before shuffling toward the call. With disheveled hair and a mussed robe, he snapped Samael's bedroom door open.
"What."
Samael turned in his seat to face Amaimon fully, surrounded by documents and stationary scattered about his writing desk. Baba stood beside him but stared off beyond the Earth King, petite hand half-covering her mouth and a contemplative furrow in her brow.
Clicking his tongue, Samael chided, "Ugh! Couldn't make yourself at least decent, could you?"
With a snap, Amaimon's hair neatly settled in place (save his stubborn point) and fresh, crisp robes replaced his crinkly slept in ones. Amaimon frowned at the invasiveness of being physically groomed by his brother's magic but knew better than to protest.
"Well, Little Brother, it's a big day for you! I've got a task for you to complete."
"What."
Samael pouted, "At least pretend to care!"
Amaimon stared back blankly, waiting for actual instructions.
"Hmph!" Samael relinquished, knowing demanding expression from Amaimon was like asking a rock to sing. "Sweet Oba-chan and I have got important business to attend to today," he said as he wrapped an arm around her from his seat, "we will be gone for the better part of the day so you'll have to play nanny for little Katori."
"I can't nan—"
"Make sure she eats at least twice, keep her company and," Samael grinned mischievously, "I had better not find a single scratch on her when we return."
Baba's mind seemed to come back into the room at that.
"Oh, that just isn't fair," she said with a little smile, "An impossible task." Her smile went hard and eyes icy when she continued, "But you would be wise to not raise your hand to her."
"Hmm," Samael stroked at his chin in thought. "Alright, fine. Baasan is right. You had better not hurt her, and I expect her to tell me she's had a positively lovely day with her darling uncle when I return."
"What am I—" Amaimon started, but Samael cut him off again, brusquely now.
"Just eat and play. You'll be fine." He insisted sharply, "Go on," dismissing Amaimon with a wave.
As he left, he could hear Baba murmur through the closed door, "Are you sure about this?"
"Hey, wait for me!" Katori whined.
Amaimon did not acknowledge her, continuing on to the unguarded dining table. Baba had left them a simple breakfast of eggs and rice. Katori balked when she saw Amaimon pick at his food with his bare hands ("You're supposed to use chopsticks!") and cackled when she saw him stab at his eggs with a single stick.
After the two had gobbled up the meal, they spent the better part of the morning gallivanting about the estate, playing hiding games with their familiars in tow.
Amaimon found he quite enjoyed their games, and it got very interesting when he learned that Katori could climb trees quietly and higher than expected, finding her curled up, tiny and hidden, nestled in high, leafy branches on a few occasions. Behemoth and Iza could contort and shrink themselves into the oddest nooks and crevices, but neither played as intelligently as their masters, though they added a delightful spark of their own to the activities. Of course, even Katori had no chance of winning against the demon king herself, and Amaimon always waited until she gave up, calling out that she had quit and he won before revealing himself, too proud to let her win even a single round.
Once Katori grew bored of the game, she took to intently investigating the grounds, searching for interesting rocks and shells and carefully gathering them up, holding up her shirt by its front edge to use as a makeshift bag. Each time she found something, no matter how plain or ordinary, she would hold it up for Amaimon to inspect for himself. Once her treasure became too great for her to carry alone, she started asking him to hold some of the pieces for her. When he immediately refused, she simply started to sneak them straight into his pockets, as if he wouldn't notice such clumsy hands, and he allowed it for the sake of peace, knowing she would cry about it otherwise.
Finally, when he could tolerate his boredom no longer and decided he had given Katori her way long enough that she could not possibly whine to Samael, Amaimon ordered the group back home, seeking to soothe the tediousness with food.
Samael and Baasan had travelled by key to a bustling shop in Heian-kyō*, choosing a location busy enough that no one would notice their sudden appearance.
The city they passed through was bleak with smothering rot, tiny coal tars a black snow along the streets. They covered their faces with bamboo hats and sage-stuffed cotton rags across their mouths and noses. The upper class had largely abandoned the city, but the poorer people, with nowhere to go and not enough resources to manage a large-scale migration from the dying town, were still around fighting and scrounging for necessities like food and clean water. In futile attempts to purify the town even a bit, lanterns of lavender, tea tree and orange oils burned all day and night and thick sage smoke wafted from huts into the streets.
Keeping their heads down through the densest parts of the city, together they had travelled beyond the outskirts to the great shrine just beyond one of the outermost satellite villages.
Together they stood before a small team of blacksmiths, all gaping at Samael incredulously.
"Uehara-sama, I simply believe it cannot be done!" one dirty-faced apprentice exclaimed.
"Oh? And why is that?" Samael asked, feigning ignorance and staring at his nails disinterestedly.
"A blade capable of such a task, a demon slaying weapon? It would have to be heaven sent. I don't believe such a material exists that could—"
"Then make it exist," Samael snapped, "Summon the gods themselves to forge it for all I care, but get it done."
The head blacksmith nodded, sweating nervously and placing his comforting hand on the apprentice's shoulder. "We will make it for you," he told Samael with more conviction in his voice than his face, "We will make a sword that can vessel the power of an angel. A demon slaying blade." He gulped and took a shaky breath, "For the sake of our homeland, we will do it."
"Wonderful!~" Samael winked, "I knew I could expect only the greatest from the fine folks of the Myo Dha!"
Readying himself to leave he turned once more and added, "Oh, I'll actually be needing two of them, by the way. They don't need to be identical. Baba-chan will leave you the specifications. I'll see you in a month to collect them!~"
"A MONTH?" the blacksmith's apprentice exploded
Samael shrugged at him carelessly, "Unless you'd like to wait longer? I was under the impression that this was a…time sensitive matter."
The apprentice sighed and bowed his head in apology.
"Actually," Samael added with a perk, "why don't you make one a staff? I like a little variety. See ya!" he waved over his shoulder.
"You're not listening!" Katori stomped behind him, struggling to get in front of him and force his attention to her.
Amaimon held out his unyielding arm and blocked her from the kitchen shelves, steadily pushing her further back behind him without ever turning to face her. He noticed as he pressed some hard, thin piece of jewelry hanging hidden under her shirt. She felt him press it too, and shifted so his hand pressed her shoulder, carefully moving his touch away from the curious metal piece.
He kept one hand on her behind his back while the other reached forward in search of goodies. Katori never stopped squirming, though she was vastly over powered in both raw physical strength and limb length.
"You'll make father angry!" she shouted at the back of his head.
"So."
With a grunt and furious jerk away from his firm hand, she threw the fistful of pebbles and shells she had carried back with them into the house at the back of Amaimon's head. He spun around after the first barely touched his hair, instantly bent at the waist so that his snarling face was just above hers as the raining pieces fell one by one and scattered across the floor.
It happened so quickly and his searing eyes were so startling and close, Katori took a stumbling step backwards and fell on her bottom, hands holding her up in a tilted sitting position as her legs fell out in front of her.
"Are you challenging me?" he spat at her venomously.
"Oh, um, well, no…but—but it is true, Uncle! Father will be angry if we steal kitchen food and Baba complains and then he'll be in a mood with both of us!"
He was still crouched above her, scowling, "I am stronger than you. Do not command me."
She straightened up and got back to her feet. Making both hands into fists, she put them to her hips and leaned her face at his.
"We can't steal. You're going to get us in trouble. I'm in enough as it is already."
Amaimon scrunched his noise at her derisively, still crouched down near her level. Reaching into his pockets, he pulled out all of the little charms he had been conspicuously saddled with during their morning journeys. Holding both hands above Katori's head, he dropped the contents of each fist directly on top of her.
"Hey!" she yelped, wrapping arms over her head for protection as the sandy shells spilled over her.
She giggled and shook her head when it was over, ruffling her hands through her hair to shake out the bits. She then reached up and grabbed Amaimon's cheeks with both hands, pulling them back and stretching out his mouth into the caricature of a smile.
He swatted her hands away and stood fully, but she kept jumping on him and reaching at his face.
"Do you even know how to smile?"
He ignored her again and turned his focus back to the food stores.
In an instant, she had scaled the countertop beneath the shelves and stood in his way.
"Ha! And you can't even use chopsticks," she laughed, pointing a finger in his face. "You're like a baby!"
"You're a baby," Amaimon glared at her. She really was. He was a thousand years old by now, and this kid had been alive for a speck. How such a weak, pitiful creature could be this bothersome and allowed to survive even for this short time was incredible to him.
"If your father hadn't threatened me with death, I'd murder you right now."
"You're a bad uncle—so mean!" she huffed at him. She reached and grabbed his hand, pulling it with her as she jumped away from the cabinets, "Come on. We can't take that stuff, but I know where to find snacks."
Amaimon followed begrudgingly. She had called him a bad uncle, so he should probably follow along for now. He didn't need her throwing a fit and crying to Samael over his justifiable murder threat.
She dragged him out to a storehouse not far away.
"We bring dinner food in from here to the house so Baba can cook it for dinner. If you want a snack, you gotta come out here for it. The food inside is for her cooking only"
He took off his outermost robe and laid it out flat on the ground. Together, they scavenged around for a bit, Amaimon munching on a raw yam he had found early in their search. When he was satisfied with the pile of foods, he stopped rummaging at stared at it.
"Okay. So that's enough for you?" Katori asked.
Amaimon took another huge bite of the yam, munching on it with his mouth open.
"It's fine. Cook it." He ordered.
"Yeah! Come on!"
She gathered up the corners of the robe to form a sack and struggled with it, just able to drag it using both hands a few paces before Amaimon grew too annoyed to watch her continue. He covered her face with his hand and shoved her back, lightly enough that she only tripped a bit but hard enough to snatch away the food easily from her loosened grasp.
"You're weak and slow," he said flatly, staring down at her with the bundle slung over his shoulder.
She beamed at him when she regained her balance. Iza came shimmying out of her collar, joining in the merriment as Katori skipped around his feet in circles with Behemoth while Amaimon trudged home with a frown. Irritated with the constant weaving between his feet, he commanded his familiar to stop and yanked Katori off the ground by her middle, carrying her like a log before she somehow managed to climb around and sit up in his arm. His relief lasted only a moment as the lack of mobility turned her attention only to him, and she chattered at him the whole way home.
He didn't listen to a word and instead spent the walk home wondering how Samael had tolerated this over the last few years.
"See? So we put all the tasty stuff in these types of little bowls all around and then you just kind of," she clicked her chopsticks together in her hand, not sure how to explain the motion to her confused and frustrated uncle.
They sat on the ground by the outdoor table. Katori shoved the board game aside messily and set a makeshift dinner table. She had decided to teach Uncle Emon about both the morality of theft and table manners today.
"Father cares a lot about etiquette inside the house, so you've got to get this stuff down as soon as possible or he will be upset." She sat very straight on folded legs and spoke very seriously.
Amaimon stared blankly at her, leaning forward on the table with a chopstick in each hand.
"Hold them like this, in one hand, see?" She twisted her hand about so he could see from various angles how it was to be done.
"These are dumb." Amaimon said, nevertheless putting the sticks in a single hand and struggling to emulate her grip.
"That's good!" she smiled encouragingly at him, ignoring his comment and general sulkiness, "See? It's like a beak or a claw and now you can just pinch up anything on the table!" She grabbed a broccoli floret and popped it into her mouth to show him.
Amaimon clumsily pinched a mushroom between his chopsticks. Squeezing too hard, it dripped oils and juices as he carefully raised it to his mouth. He lost the balance of tension in his hands, and the mushroom shot away from him on to the ground. He stared bitterly at the dropped morsel, brow creased.
Katori winced on his behalf.
"Almost. Well, mushrooms are kind of slippery, so it's not your fault. Maybe you should try…rice! Rice is easy! Look. You just sort of shovel it," she jammed her chopsticks in the pile of rice to show the general, albeit sloppy, technique, "and it just kind of sticks together so then you can just eat it." And she shoved the blob of sticky rice into her mouth.
Amaimon knew he copied her perfectly, as he was certain there was nothing she could best him at, but for some reason the little grains fell in the space between the sticks when he tried to get rice out of the bowl. When he clenched his hand to stem the falling rice in the center, he squeezed even more out of the sides, so he lurched his head under and around, trying to catch it with his open mouth and tongue.
Katori guffawed at his failure.
"I don't think father will find this acceptable at dinner either, but I have an idea!"
She scooped the rice out of Amaimon's bowl and ran inside before he could protest. She was gone a short while and returned with it shaped into a ball with a little seaweed wrapper and a wooden spoon for the sides. She held both out for him.
"Here. This way you won't starve."
"Doesn't matter what you're pretending to be, you're always being a pain in someone's ass, aren't you Sam?"
"How rude of you, Iluhuit"
Baba silenced with a stern look at the use of her name.
Frustrated and so infrequently alone with Samael, she could not contain the questions that bubbled inside her any longer.
"What are you playing at anyway? Did you want her to be properly human or not?" she asked him a little too desperately. The begging rang through in her voice, and she knew it when she saw the flash in Samael's eyes, but she was too far gone for pride to restrain her feelings now.
"There's no way you can hide it if she's hanging around a Baal king all day, every day. You've got to let her around other children again or she'll end up violent and positively feral!"
"As always, I have my reasons, won't you trust me this time around?" Samael smirked at her evilly, thrilled at the leverage he commanded over the woman. Baba could not bare to look at him, tearing her eyes away from his mocking face and instead staring at her own feet plodding back to town.
"Samael, please," she started weakly, "I don't know what you've got planned—really, I don't—but how could you? This can't possibly be helpful to you. Is there even another king who hates humans as much as he?"
"Oh, absolutely, yes," Samael sang, closing his eyes and nodding.
When he chose not to elaborate further, she gathered herself and managed to look up at him with pleading eyes, "You told me you wanted her to blend in seamlessly with other people, how could Amaimon be of any use with that? He will undo all of my work if you don't allow me to—"
"Undo your work? You mean your massive failure?" Samael taunted, "If I wanted a murderous little hellion, I wouldn't have bothered myself with any of you and just called Amaimon from the start," he sneered at her hurt expression. Samael was pleased with the effect he had when she was silent a moment at the pain of his harsh words.
"You know that there was nothing—," but Samael cut her off again.
"And now," he interrupted dramatically, "I have got to subdue my own brother and see him slain to clean up your mess."
"There was nothing I could do," she managed through gritted teeth. "And you know that."
"If you absolutely must have your way, we could, of course, make another little deal if you would like since you're just so displeased. But I believe you know my cost."
Baba's jaw tensed, but she did not so much as glance his way. Samael watched her with hawkish interest as she openly refused to acknowledge him.
"Oooh, so angry!" Samael covered his smiling mouth as he taunted, "I can't see why. Haven't I given you the perfect life you always dreamed of~? Your freedom from Gabriel's tyranny?"
"When will you allow her back in the village?" Baba asked gruffly, feeling defeated.
Oh, they were so complicated, with their little fantasies, petty dreams and nonsensical emotions, but in the end, humans really were just so, so easy. Even the nephilims fall in line. Samael smiled to himself, purposefully taking longer, faster strides to leave Baba steps behind him.
"Is it so hard for you to just trust me?" he simpered over his shoulder, pulling his mask up over his nose as they crossed back into the city.
Life on Samael's estate was strange, of course, but over time Amaimon began to notice something akin to a schedule. With the exception of the first day when the earth king was left to nanny Katori, both Baba and Samael stayed nearby all day every day for a week.
Once it was clear he wasn't going to accidentally murder Katori, the two of them spent most of the daylight hours together largely unsupervised, much to Baba's displeasure, but since she couldn't physically keep up with their games, there wasn't much the old woman could do.
After the first days together, Amaimon had found he quite enjoyed the kid when she wasn't acting like Samael's rotten brat. She was not terriblyspoiled, but it was worst when Samael, who had proven himself quick to grant her almost any request, was around or, Amaimon noticed, when she was hungry or tired but had not realized it. Annoying as she was in that state, he found he could just grab her by one leg and carry her home while she screamed, keeping his arm outstretched the whole way while she squirmed and dangling her in front of a laughing Samael or a scowling Baba so that they could handle the tantrum.
After the initial surveillance period, Samael left often during the days but was almost always home before nightfall. Baasan left about once a week for a few days overnight, usually returning with a treat or toy for Katori that Amaimon was sometimes able to steal or swindle for himself. He wondered if they had kept this schedule before his arrival, leaving the kid to her own devices since she seemed able to at least feed herself well enough, or if he had somehow been relegated to fulltime nanny in their places.
She couldn't keep up with him when they played, though not many creatures could, but Katori was entertaining and taught him games. She would keep at it with him for hours, too. Baasan was not really physically fit for such activities. Samael was much too prissy for anything except the board games he would play with her on rainy days. Naturally, it wasn't long before she adored Amaimon above all else, following him everywhere with shining eyes, bombarding him with questions, and trying to hug and hang from him any time the mood struck her. He often felt amused with her, so he in return tolerated her clinginess as much as he reasonably could.
When Amaimon was without her, usually Baba and the girl took up some chore together, Samael pestered him endlessly, forcing him to sit for tea and peppering him with questions. What had they been playing lately? What had they been talking about? How was she when her father wasn't around to make her behave? (Amaimon refrained from informing him she was actually significantly more obedient when he was gone). Had she asked any odd questions? Had she told him anything interesting lately?
He asked if she was strong or smart or a million other things Amaimon knew he wanted her to be.
"She is stronger than a normal human, I think," Amaimon answered on one particular occasion, though he couldn't be sure. Humans were so weak and their offspring with demons, while considerably stronger than any human could hope to be, were still so outpowered by a King the difference was negligible from their perspectives.
He thought a moment before adding, "Faster for sure. Common for nephilims I've seen before."
Samael bristled. He insisted she was not a nephilim, but Amaimon had observed no evidence to the contrary and, assuming Samael was telling the truth about her origins—which was a rather big assumption—she was exactly that. The Earth King enjoyed barbing his brother with the comment any chance he got, and there was no reason not to. If Samael's delusions of grandeur had grown to this extent, he needed some help returning to reality.
The King of Time made a "humph" noise and sulked away with his tea. Amaimon stayed behind to shovel Samael's abandoned breakfast in his mouth with his hands.
It was an uncomfortably hot day when Baba asked Amaimon and Katori to help in the garden. They often did of their own accord anyways, but when she found them that afternoon, they were laying on their backs on the wet sand near the shore line, just close enough that every other wave spilled around their bodies, sucking sand back from underneath them when the rushing water retreated.
"Enough lazing," she called to them, "Get your able-bodies out of there and come help this old woman!"
"Baaaa!" Katori cried, "It's hot!"
"If it's hot for you, it's hot for sprouts. Do you like eating or not?"
"Yes," the little girl pouted, rolling over and using her hands to push herself up.
Amaimon stayed where he was, enjoying the lapping waves and sun, looking supremely relaxed, and resting his eyes with legs crossed. He laid back, propping himself up on his elbows to keep the ocean water a safe distance from his face.
Katori ruined his plan, dripping on him from above when she poked at his nose.
"You help, too," she ordered.
His face scrunched and he squinted up at her in the oppressive midday light.
"I won't," he told her stubbornly, closing his eyes again.
Katori kicked up sand from under the shallow water, and it splatted all over his chest and neck. Amaimon shot up, glaring at her with bared fangs.
"You little—"
She was already running with Iza trailing behind her, calling to him, "You have to! Come on!"
Behemoth traitorously bounced along after them while Amaimon splashed up some water to get the bulk of the wet sand globs off his skin.
"That's too much. Give it." Amaimon snatched the bucket away from the little girl. Baba had promised them juice and rice cakes in exchange for the task when they returned, and he was growing impatient with Katori's sloppy work as she struggled under the weight of the water.
In situations like this, she was very obedient and attentive, curious and ready to learn from him. He knew he hadn't needed to be so sharp with her, but she was also very annoying.
Katori caught on early in Amaimon's stay that he was significantly better at getting things to grow than she was. Since then she followed him around, always handing items over at his first request quickly and staring in an attempt to absorb his process. She was easily impressed, constantly praising his amazing gardening skills.
The Earth King was crouched down with his feet fixed in the dirt and knees folded to chest level, gingerly running a leaf through his hand, eyes locked on the tiny shoot. Katori was folded in the same position, observing quietly as Amaimon judged the plant. He used his hand to scoop a bit of water and sprinkle it carefully on the soil so that he would not flood the delicate sprout. He flicked the remaining wetness stuck on his hand in Katori's face.
"Hey!" she flailed a bit, startled and lurching onto her knees to keep from falling backwards.
Her loss of balance pulled her tied-closed shirt open just barely near the neck and for the first time, it happened.
The little pendant she kept around her neck on a sturdy, thin leather string slipped out and hung in front of her, swinging with a glint. It was a key. Amaimon had suspected as much when he felt it on the very first day, and she so carefully tried to keep his touch off of it. She noticed his curious face watching and possessively shoved it back into hiding within seconds of its appearance. Neither of them spoke of it as Amaimon surveyed the rest of the garden, sending Katori back and forth to the water pump until the task was complete.
She was young, but if Amaimon had to guess, Samael had trained her like a dog when it came to that key she held. He had studied her carefully when they played, and she often checked on it surreptitiously (or so she thought) patting on the it through her clothes or running a finger across the back of her neck when the necklace itched her.
He supposed it must be one of Samael's time keys, but this child seemed to never leave the estate.
She liked to charge into Amaimon's room in the mornings when she woke up, razzing Behemoth and making his bed slide across the floor when she leaped onto it with her slinky dragon accomplice. From morning until dusk, they ate together, played together, fought together. Practically the only time she wasn't clutching at him was late in the evenings when Amaimon often witnessed her fall asleep on Samael's lap, clinging to him until he was certain he could lay her in her room without waking her.
Actually, since their first standoffish meeting, Katori had so taken to her uncle often the only moment's peace he had from her in a day was his bath. If she were using the key to travel about, he had no idea when she might find the time.
Now that he had seen it, his curiosity could no longer be contained. He was just so interested, and he knew he was much stronger. She wouldn't be able to resist if he just grabbed it…
Walking up silently, feet barely touching the ground as he levitated a bit behind her, he extended a single claw. He gently hooked the necklace then yanked up inhumanly fast, sure no human could react fast enough to stop the lift. He failed to notice Iza charging him from the side, growing in size as she approached before tackling him. Katori's little hand fisted around the key, catching it as it flew above her head. Behemoth, thinking a game had begun without him, also ran to the flattened Amaimon, jumping onto his stomach with his tongue lolling out of his smiling mouth.
Amaimon shoved both familiars off of him roughly, throwing them yards away as his snakelike eyes locked on Katori. She stared back at him with wide, scared eyes, ready to sprint away. The key was locked in her vice grip, the leather loop dangling suggestively out of her hand.
He hesitated. If he took it by force, she would certainly tattle on him to her father. Though there was no rule against stealing things from her, he considered Samael might not want him to know about this. If there were too much of a scene, he would find out about this scuffle for sure.
Amaimon decided to try.
"What is that?" he asked coolly.
She only stared back up at him with a crumpled, mad expression, her little angry face barely at hip level for him as he slowly approached.
Taking a step back from him she told him sharply, "Nothing."
She was too defensive. Worried she might escape, he stopped and crouched down fully, trying to appear unassuming.
Again, he tried. "I want to see," he said, slowly stretching his open hand out towards her. Another step back.
"It's mine."
"Show it to me." He reached after her more roughly.
"NO!" she said in a voice that didn't sound like her own, loud and filling the space between them with a resonating energy. Amaimon swiped at her hand through the strange, electric air, but his hand met some hard, unyielding barrier and he jolted back in surprise.
She ran, Iza tearing through the air just behind her. The dragon bowed her head as she approached and smoothly scooped the dashing girl on her back, slithering through the sky like a snake in sand.
Not sure if he should head them off or hide from Samael after he inevitably heard of this, Amaimon waited for Behemoth to return to his side.
"Idiot," he told the disoriented hobgoblin as he pet him absentmindedly. He waited for a moment before resigning himself to return to the house at a meandering pace, in no hurry to learn the consequences of what he had just done.
Amaimon's punishment from Samael never came. What had happened between them, he learned, Katori must have chosen to keep to herself. Still, it was rare even the most mundane events escaped Samael's watchful eye. He likely knew but was waiting for something else to happen before he intervened.
Whether it was Samael's will or not, it had been a close enough call that, despite his curiosity, Amaimon didn't make another attempt to snatch the key.
He lay resting against a tree, lazily munching sweet apples and figs and discarding the cores and stems in a pile by his side. Katori kneeled nearby with a small mountain of flowers and blossoms she had collected. Laughing and weaving together the stems, she looked to him with her big, dumb eyes.
"When were you born?"
"A long time ago."
"How old are you?"
"Old."
"How old?" Amaimon tilted his head back, pressing it a little harder on the tree trunk his back leaned on. This would end if he could only just kill her.
"Older than you."
"How much older?"
Amaimon stared back impassively at her innocent looking face. This was a forbidden topic. He would not budge in his response.
Katori caught on, employing a new tactic almost immediately.
"Do you remember it?" she asked him.
"No," Amaimon answered, and it was half-true. He certainly didn't remember the moment his ego sprouted, but he did remember the moment he was first incarnated on the Earth. He found himself growing suspicious with these questions.
Frustratingly, he saw something flicker in her eyes that signaled this interrogation wouldn't be ending any time soon. When he watched her face, he could practically see her devious mind churning behind it. Much too similar to Samael. He had found they were horridly alike in that Katori was both straightforwardly persuasive and deceivingly slippery, innately conscious of when small lies and trickery or truth would more easily get her way. Amaimon's guard was up for the imminent manipulation tactics he assumed would follow from a child of Samael.
"Are you my real uncle?"
"Yes." A quick, simple response.
She knew something, but not knowing what, Amaimon wasn't going to take any chances, knowing his brother would skewer him over a careless mistake. Maybe she was a little sharper than average, but this kid had been alive for a blink as far as he was concerned. He out powered her and out ranked her in every area. He was a demon king after all. Guarded but otherwise unconcerned was probably an appropriate response. Besides, as long as he kept his mouth shut, she really couldn't do any harm.
She rustled around, humming to herself and fiddling innocently with her flower links. She carefully rocked forward on her knees and fastened the completed flower chain around his ankle. Then placing both of her hands on his knee and thigh, she leaned her weight forward on to him, facing him dead on.
She looked at him with her doe eyes and babyish face. He looked back from down his nose, head still tilted against the tree.
She tilted her head inquisitively. Amaimon broke their little staring contest, closing his eyes as though to rest, hoping she would be bored of him soon and find something else to do.
She didn't leave, though. She didn't move at all.
For a moment Amaimon squeezed his eyes shut tighter, brow crinkled in frustration. With a heaving sigh, he snapped his head back up and opened his eyes only to find her face now inches from his own. The proximity was not unnerving alone; it was her eyes.
Her pupils were noticeably dilated with some strange, psychotic desire. Every part of her soft face seemed suddenly sharp and feral. The nerves in his body flipped themselves over, clicking into place with her at the focal point, hyper aware of her every movement. She looked perfectly human still, but Amaimon sensed a wild energy between them like he had the day he reached for her key. The feeling saturated his senses into an overwhelming state of alarm, and he couldn't stop himself from registering her as a legitimate threat.
He sat perfectly motionless and offered no visible reaction to her, even when the pressure of her weight on his leg pinched him uncomfortably.
Her wide eyes kept their crazed energy when she asked him gently, "Are you like me?"
She leaned in even closer, trying to drag answers out of his eyes with her own, boring into him for answers. "I've never met anyone who is."
He stared back at her blankly, remaining stubbornly still and suspicious.
She seemed to go back to normal in a snap. She still straddled his leg, fiddling with the flower chains looped on her arm, selecting one and carelessly tossing it on the top of Amaimon's head with a laugh.
"It's too bad you can't see yourself," she said snickering when it settled crookedly on his head. In an instant, her face fell deathly serious again. Suddenly intense eyes piercing into his just as before.
She added just above a whisper, "It's like a crown."
Her pupils were blown out huge, only a tiny sliver of speckled brown around the rim of her eyes, even in the bright midday light.
"It's like you're a king."
This was dangerous.
"Have you got a title, Uncle? A secret name?" she questioned directly, shrunken back, once again, to a light-hearted tone and her normal self and face, harmlessly reordering the chains on her arm.
"No," he lied quickly, starting to attempt to subtly wriggle away, eyeing the dangling key that had slipped out of her shirt again. Ignoring it, she clutched his nervousness instead.
She flipped again, the insane energy back as quickly as it had vanished. He heard the torrential power of blood rushing, a heartbeat that drowned out his thoughts and rattled his core inside his vessel. Whether it was his own or hers, he wasn't sure, but it was deafening.
Now, as a ray of the afternoon sun hit her eyes just right, he saw cracks in the illusion. Her ears were still the tiny, round ears of a human, but her irises quivered and around like a frying, broken egg yolk and inside her pupils was an otherworldly glow he had seen many times. This was the ominous radiance of demonic presence. A vessel overfilled with the power of a spirit, but who was hiding in this shell? He could sense her nature, but as a Baal, he ought to be able to know her by her presence alone, yet she remained a mystery even so plainly revealed before him.
"I know you're different like me. I know it. You have to be," she said, now breathless while her eyes tremored, swimming with excitement, human and demon traits struggling against each other.
She clamped her grip back on his leg, pressing it down painfully now to keep him from standing. He kept his lips shut but ground his teeth in his mouth. Amaimon could see now, if she were this strong, how she could have accidentally killed before.
She looked away thoughtfully before she tried to strike a deal with him.
"I will tell you my secret name, and then you can tell me yours."
Amaimon's body was buzzing at high alert. She leaned in closer to tell him and her shaky breathing brushed on his face. Between them, the key no longer dangled. It stuck to her skin, unnaturally defying gravity, branding her with a grotesque blister on the skin of her chest where it clung to her while her mouth hovered near his ear.
She didn't wait for him to agree before she whispered with barely contained excitement, "Amahara."
It felt like lightening through his body down to his core. Amaimon hated her, wanted her away desperately. His body immediately reacted to the intense repulsion.
He tried to jerk her off of him, but her hand shot to his wrist and she clamped down now on two of his limbs with more force, than he could overcome with normal, human-passing means. There was no trace of her usual smile or playfulness. Her eyes were blank, over saturated with the rush of power inside of her vessel. Her boring, nightmare pupils dragged and pulled to nothingness. She wanted his answer as urgently as he wanted to escape, and he couldn't shake her away safely.
His body and heart quaked and raged against this creature. He wanted her off. He needed her away from him. For the first time in his existence, he felt a thrill poisoned with something else, some twisted feeling that turned his stomach to stone and pushed needles through his skin. Panic.
Unable to ignore his screaming senses any longer, Amaimon took his free hand and slammed it against her chest inhumanly fast, pulling his punch at the last second to avoid killing her, he hoped. She flew off of him and slammed into a tree back first with a sickening crack. He realized he may have failed at sparing her life.
Iza shot into the tiny grove, tearing grass out of the ground as she launched herself in a bound and a half between the two. She coiled defensively in front of Katori, many times larger than her normal size. Her teeth bared and eyes lit with fire, ready to fight the King of Earth.
Amaimon was already on his feet. Adrenaline prepared his body for the imminent round, Samael's rules forgotten in the frenzy. His teeth bared, claws long and sharp. He growled at the dragon as though daring it to spring forward.
Childish laughter cut between them. Katori was on her feet jumping on Iza and hugging at her neck, smiling as though nothing had happened. Amaimon could see the blood dripping down her back as it stained her shirt and matted her hair. The spiderwebbing of angry, broken blood vessels where he had hit her chest would certainly bruise, but the punch had at least not been lethal. And it certainly should have been.
Iza regarded her master, watching her dive between legs and tickle at her stomach. Katori wrapped her arms and legs around the dragon's belly, hanging upside down beneath her and laughing. When Iza twisted herself as much as possible to get a good look at the girl, she stuck out her tongue and flung herself back to her feet. She made a show of taking a pointed look at Amaimon and grinned victoriously before she bolted, laughing and running out to the open grass, beckoning her familiar to follow.
Iza recoiled slightly. She shot a warning look to the King of Earth before gliding off after the giggling girl.
Breathing hard, Amaimon shifted to a neutral stance. Behemoth came bounding into view, too late to see the cause of the ruckus himself. Amaimon glared at him, reaching up to touch his head, feeling his exposed green horns near his temples.
Fuck.
Behemoth, hearing the giggling of the girl with her dragon in the distance, began to bounce away toward the fun. Amaimon stopped him with a vicious, ugly glower. Behemoth stilled and flattened in submission, staying by his master's side.
"Come." He commanded through gritted teeth, a violent spark in his eyes.
They ran inhumanely fast straight towards the house, leaping over or shattering obstacles, whichever was faster. Amaimon was furious.
There would be no more of this game. It was intolerable. In the moments it took him to reach the house he decided this would be his revolt against Samael's nonsense.
Amaimon tore into the home, slamming open doors, bee-lining for Samael's room.
He found his brother sitting in his master bedroom, comfortably curled before his desk. He stayed calmly penning letters, with stationary and ink jars scattered about him even after Amaimon burst into the room.
"Hello, my brother," Samael greeted cheerfully without looking up.
Amaimon stormed up to him, cloud of fury hanging above his head, demonic scowl in full force with no effort made to hide his rage. He fisted Samael's shirt in one hand and yanked his brother toward him forcefully, spilling ink across the floor and on Samael's silk robes.
"Why you-!"
Face to face the King of Earth demanded, "Where the fuck did you get that thing?"
Samael, frowning down at his ruined robes and dirty floor, had no reaction to the attempt at intimidation. He instead shifted to his usual lazy smirk, innocently replying, "I already told you. I made her myself. The old-fashioned way~! Did you need a little lesson in human reproduction? Don't tell me you came barging in for the dirty details," he jabbed.
Amaimon scowled and tightened his grip, dissatisfied with Samael's answer. "There's no way that thing—! She isn't a human"
Samael tutted at him.
"Oh, my," he started with a smirk, "Baby Brother is all shook up~! I really thought you would have better developed instincts by now in your old age."
Amaimon growled, refusing to stand down without an answer whether it cost him this body or not.
"What's the matter?" Samael pouted his lips and asked mockingly, "Did she scare you, little brother?"
*A historical name for Kyoto
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Honestly, I hope you guys are as excited about this chapter as I am! I made a LOT of decisions about the plot after I got this chapter sorted out and I have PLANS FOR DAYS :)
It is in the tags that I rated my story for violence, and that IS coming. I will always place warnings at the beginning of the chapter when it happens. I do want to warn anyone reading further that there will be (probably not in the next couple of chapters but soon) very graphic descriptions of violence, abuse (sexual and otherwise), and other disturbing events. It could be uncomfortable or not readable for some, so please protect yourself, but again I will warn before those chapters!
As always, thank you for reading and please review with thoughts/suggestions!
