Tilling Soil
By: Aviantei
Chapter Sixteen
In her practice clothes, Ayane felt energized and ready for action, especially once the racket ended up in her grip, when the weight of a swing followed through and made the connection with the first ball of the day, even if it was just a drill. In her club uniform proper, Ayane felt geared up for battle.
It was a simple outfit that was mostly practical, though not without a few elements of style that ended up calling back to the True Cross Academy uniform. The skirt was the same color as the girls' uniform, though the design was a bit longer to accommodate for the motion of the sport—though that still didn't stop Ayane and a lot of her fellow teammates from wearing spats or shorts underneath. The top was also simple, a short-sleeved blouse with the school's emblem on the breast. The boys' uniform mostly matched, though they had shorts the same black as their uniform. More than a fair share had extra add-ons—knee braces, sweat bands, a couple of hats, and Abe himself always played with a headband to push his bangs back—but Ayane hadn't seen the point in doing the same.
You didn't need any of that to play tennis. All you needed was a racket and the will to chase the ball down until the opponent missed.
She didn't even pull her hair back, choosing to let it fall down her back. Keeping the stuff out of her eyes while playing had been part of the reason that she'd kept it short in the front, though she did sometimes wish that she could more easily keep the heat off her neck.
Thankfully, that wasn't a concern today, as the approaching October meant that the weather was comfortable without getting too chilly, even with the exertion from high levels of physical activity. Ayane had already warmed up, her limbs and muscles feeling limber, and she scanned over the small crowd that had gathered outside of the True Cross's practice courts that they'd be using for the day's matches. Most of the audience were Academy kids, but Ayane noticed a few different uniforms that indicated other schools—likely from the few that had chosen to come. There were even a few news cameras getting setup, but Ayane didn't care much about those.
Ah, he really did come.
Amaimon had a way of standing out in a crowd, and that was even more true when surrounded by teens in varying uniforms. Ayane took the time to smack Abe on the arm as she passed. "I finished warmup. Gonna go say hi to someone."
"Oh, yeah?" Ayane did slow her pace for a moment. Though she wasn't against trying to out stubborn Abe, she did respect him. If he decided to play the tough captain, she'd listen. However, when his face began to stretch out in a grin, Ayane knew she'd be able to get away with what she was trying to do—though not without a fair share of teasing as payment. "Does that someone happen to be this guy you're all worked up about?" Ayane muttered something under her breath that wasn't appropriate for a kōhai to say to their senpai under any circumstances, but Abe just laughed. "Go ahead. You have ten minutes max."
"Yes, Captain," Ayane said in a blur of syllables before she dashed off. She had to restrain herself from going at full speed, since that would just tire her out before the match even started, but it was still a decent enough pace. Amaimon had plopped himself down in the front row of the micro bleachers, the seat beside him occupied with a veritable heap of concessions, and Ayane didn't restrain her laugh. Same as always, no matter where he is, huh? "Amaimon."
"Ayane," he said, completing the greeting. Exchanging pleasantries like hello always felt awkward, so Ayane chose to skip over him. There was a moment where she thought he was looking over her uniform ensemble, but, if so, he didn't say anything. "When are you playing?"
"Oh, I'm doing a couple of matches, but I'm up first." Though they'd called it an exhibition match opportunity, it was really closer to a free for all where the participating schools had requested matchups they wanted to try. Given that she was a national-level contender, Ayane was a common request, but Abe and their coach had cut her off after three. Something about not wanting too many people to get a feel for her plays before the next tournament.
Like that even matters. If I can't beat them just because they've gotten used to my playstyle, then that means I haven't gotten good enough yet.
"Got it," Amaimon said, and Ayane thought she caught that tiny fraction of interest that sometimes slipped into his voice. That was enough to make a happy giggle start to bubble in her throat, but she settled for a smile instead.
"Come on, Aya-chan," an all too familiar voice said from a bit further up the mini bleachers. Ayane looked up, finding both Ryouichi and Michiko sitting there. Once more, Michiko had changed from her uniform into something a little bit cuter, but Ryouichi still had his school clothes on, albeit with the buttons undone and revealing the bright green undershirt beneath. Yori hadn't been able to come. "Don't tell us you're just gonna ignore our support. So cruel."
"Oh, hush!" Ayane said, somewhat regretting the fence between them. It would have been satisfying to throw something at Ryouichi. "I just saw you guys at lunch today. It's been over a week since I've seen Amaimon."
Ryouichi grinned at the more casual referral (he and Ayane had known each other practically since they were in diapers, and they weren't even on a first name, no honorific basis), and Ayane tried to use her willpower to keep her ears from burning too bright red—not that she was successful. Hopefully it would just pass off as a bit of sunburn marring her tan. "You hear that, Michiko-chan?" Ryouichi asked, his tone teasing. "At this rate, Aya-chan's not going to need us anymore."
"My, my, we can't have that, now can we?" Michiko said, a hand held up to her mouth in mock horror. Ayane knew that protesting would only make the two of them become even worse, so she held it back. "That said, I think it's wonderful that you two get to see each other. Do you have any plans afterwards?"
"Oh, yeah," Ryouichi said, leaning further forward in his seat. "Amaimon-san, yeah? If you decided to have a private evening with Aya-chan, we don't wanna intrude, but you're more than welcome to come out to dinner with us. We've heard a lot about you, and we'd like to get to know you better in person. See if you're as great as Aya-chan says you are." Ryouichi seemed to recognize that he was prattling on to a practical stranger, because he switched gears to introductions. "Oh, were Aya-chan's friends, by the way. I'm Shirou Ryouichi, and this here's Hayabusa Michiko."
"It's an absolute pleasure, darling," Michiko added.
Ayane's gaze slid over to Amaimon, wondering if he was even interested in coming to dinner with them. Amaimon had paused snacking for long enough to listen to the others, and that golden-green gaze of his seemed to be assessing both of them. Ayane suddenly felt a little self-conscious in comparison to Michiko's well assembled appearance, but Michiko would never violate the bro code like that.
Amaimon paused a bit longer, his brow slightly furrowed with some emotion or another, before he managed to pronounce, "Nice to meet you." It was such an awkward pronunciation, like the formality didn't want anything to do with his mouth, and Ayane felt her smile go wider. Ryouichi raised an eyebrow, but Michiko stayed as poised and composed as ever. "I need to check if I can go anywhere after this first."
Which implied that he was interested but otherwise unable to commit. For not the first time, Ayane wondered about what was going on with his private life, but she still hadn't pulled together the courage to ask.
"Oh, that's perfectly understandable," Michiko said. Given the double date history that she and Ayane had, it was almost surreal watching Michiko serve as an effective wingman. Michiko pulled herself to her feet and smoothed down her skirt before finding a gap between people and using that to descend the bleachers. "Come along, Ryou-kun. If we're going to chat with Amaimon-kun here, we shouldn't talk over other people."
"Huh? Oh, yeah, I guess that makes sense." Ryouichi joined Michiko's descent, and they both wisely plopped them down into seats nearby Amaimon without moving any of his snack pile. "Don't worry, Aya-chan. We'll keep Amaimon-san here company while you're busy with your game."
Say your prayers, Ryou-kun, Ayane thought, clutching the tennis racket in her hand all the tighter. Because you may be able to tease me, but if you so much as embarrass me in front of Amaimon, I have plenty of ammunition to fire back with. Ryouichi seemed to perfectly absorb the threat through best friend telepathy, considering that his grin dialed down a few notches in a span of a few seconds.
"Amaimon," Ayane said with a convincing level of seriousness, "you have my complete permission to kick Ryou-kun around if he ends up being obnoxious."
"Come on; why just me?! You know Michiko-chan's just as bad as I am!"
Michiko did a disgustingly good job at putting on an innocent expression. "I haven't the foggiest idea what you mean, darling."
Amaimon glanced over the two again before his eyes met Ayane's. "Got it," he said in the usual uninflected monotone.
"Huh? For real? You guys are the worst!"
Michiko tittered as Ayane straight-out laughed. Further back on the court, a whistle blew, followed by an emcee making some starting announcements. "That's my cue," Ayane said, propping her racket over her shoulder. "I'll be sure to give each match everything I've got, so make sure you cheer me on, okay?" If you want to see what I'm like when I don't hold back, then watch, she added inside, hoping Amaimon would get the message without her needing to say it out loud.
Ryouichi and Michiko gave their loud and dutiful responses like the loyal friends and part-time cheer squad they were. Amaimon took a moment before he nodded. And while Ayane had a hard time imagining him worked up enough to cheer for anything, that show of support seemed like more than enough. "Knock 'em dead, Ayane."
And with those words at her back, Ayane grinned as she jogged back to where Abe was waiting for her, the precursor to adrenaline beginning to spike in her veins.
Amaimon didn't really know much about human sports. Oh, he understood the concept alright; demons had their own sports that they enjoyed, opportunities to show their dominance over one another while providing entertainment to those that watched. It was just that demon sports tended to be much bloodier and more fatal than anything humans seemed to come up with. Even their version of fighting for sport was scripted half the time, which was almost as dull as not fighting at all.
All that to say that Amaimon had never taken much interest in human sports.
Until now.
He couldn't say that he really saw the complete appeal. Tennis, Ayane's sport of choice, was simple in concept. Two humans competed while knocking the small ball back and forth with rackets over a net, trying to score points when their opponent couldn't return the blow. Sure, there seemed to be some skill involved, mostly in having the speed to keep up with the ball and controlling it enough so the opponent couldn't catch it but also while not knocking it outside of the court, but there wasn't as much intensity as what could come from combat, wasn't anywhere near a sense of danger.
It was safe, and so it should have been boring. And yet—
Ayane was a force to be reckoned with. Yes, she was physically slow and frail by demonic standards, but she was more than enough to overwhelm any other non-exorcist human. Her reflexes had her after the ball and hitting it back with plenty of force. Her eyes were sharp, and there was such a look of concentration on her face that indicated she'd achieved some level of higher concentration. The numbers that the referee for the match called out didn't make much sense, really, but keeping track of that seemed pointless. After all, Ayane wasn't even allowing her opponent to score a single point off her.
"Wow," the male human that was one of Ayane's friends—Ryou-something-or-other—said. "Aya-chan's gotten even better than before." It seemed that, though his senses weren't as refined as Amaimon's, the Ryou kid could tell that Ayane was a cut above.
"Yes," the girl—Michi-whatever—said, her voice filled with awe. "I know she's been practicing hard, but she really doesn't let up, does she? At the rate things are going… Ah, there she goes." On the court, Ayane had wound up for a swing, and she slammed her racket into the ball so hard that it probably seemed little but a yellow blur as it crashed first into the court and then with a massive clatter into the fence behind her opponent.
"Match point: Fukui," the referee announced, and a mix of cheers and groans slipped over the small crowd that had assembled. Ayane's friends both leapt up with celebratory whoops, and Ayane had punched both fists to the sky in celebration, a cry of victory and self-satisfaction spilling out of her mouth. Any of the hesitation she'd had during their previous excursion was gone. She hadn't held anything back, even as it became obvious that she wouldn't need to go that far to achieve victory. It was a complete domination of her opponent, but that was how things should be, the state that made her glow the most—
Ayane looked over to where Amaimon was sitting and flashed him a both a victory sign along with a wholly unrestrained grin.
And, though he didn't fully realize what was happening, Amaimon's lips started to quirk into the faintest traces of what could be called the beginning of a smile.
Ayane's other two exhibition matches went much the same as the first, though the other two players put up a bit more of a challenge. Ayane didn't mind in the slightest, though, reveling in the rush of facing down a worthy opponent. She'd had to go to full sets through the last match, and they'd been trapped in a tie for a while, but she'd scored the victory in the end—which wasn't what mattered the most, but damn if it wasn't satisfying.
Showered and sent off by her team (though not without a fair amount of heckling over Amaimon's presence in the stands), Ayane met back up with the others. It seemed that Amaimon was able to stay out a bit longer, so going out to dinner it was, since it would be less of a hassle than taking a non-student to the cafeteria.
Ayane suspected that it would be possible, given Amaimon's relationship to the Headmaster, but going out in celebration of a set of matches well played seemed like a nice reward.
After some debate they ended up at their usual barbeque joint and had settled around a table. Amaimon had ordered another verifiable heap of food, and, after he offhandedly mentioned his seemingly limitless credit card, the others contributed a fair amount to the bill as well. The waiter's expression conveyed that they couldn't quite decide whether to feel elated at the potential tip or concerned by the amount of food ordered by four teenagers, but they ultimately stepped back to the kitchen to put the ticket in.
"So," Michiko said with that tone that Ayane and Ryouichi alike had long since learned to associate with trouble, "what did you think of our darling Aya-chan's games, Amaimon-kun?"
Ayane had been expecting such a line of questioning, which made it at least three times easier to not blush outright at the remark. She did join the others in giving Amaimon an expectant look, waiting for the response—though he had seemed distracted by the meat cooking at the next table over. A "Hm?" confirmed Ayane's suspicions, though Amaimon's eyes flicked to her soon after. "Ayane's tough. Of course she was going to win."
Aaand there goes my record of not turning red like a lobster. Ayane reached for her glass of water, trying to hide her embarrassment in her drink, but Michiko and Ryouichi's twin grins indicated that there wasn't much of a point in that. So Ayane cleared her throat and tried to act as aloof as possible. "They were all good opponents today," she said. Any one of them could end up taking a position at nationals, and Ayane didn't doubt that she'd see some of them across the court there. "I was just really in the groove today. That doesn't happen all the time."
"Oh, knock it off, Aya-chan," Ryouichi said. "We know you're not the best at humility. It's okay for you to say you kicked ass out there today. Besides, you can't hide that part of you from Amaimon-san over here forever."
"It's not like she can hide it," Amaimon said, delivering the assessment with his usual lack of consideration of tact. Ayane gaped at him for a moment, earning a much longer stare this time. "You were excited about winning earlier. It suits you."
I want to see what you're like when you're not holding back.
"Oh," Ayane said under her breath as Michiko did a rather stellar job of still looking dignified while holding back whatever squeal was building in her throat. "Well, I guess… It wouldn't be wrong to say that I wanted to give it my all since you were watching."
It only took half a second for Ayane to regret saying the words out loud while Michiko and Ryouichi were present, with the saving grace being that it didn't look like Ryouichi was recording anything—but his memory was like a vise for one-liners, and she knew that he'd be parroting the words back at her for at least the next month, if not longer. It was a shame Yori hadn't been free to come along, since she tended to put the breaks on the others by her sheer presence alone—and, that failing, she was nice enough to divert the conversation.
Amaimon didn't seem to acknowledge Ayane's embarrassment at all, which would have made it better if Michiko and Ryouichi weren't watching the whole situation like it were some drama or shōjo manga. "I'm glad," Amaimon said, sounding the faintest bit satisfied. Ayane wondered, briefly, if that was enough, or if he still wanted there to be a day when they'd fight. Thankfully, he didn't bring up the topic. "Next time you play, let me know. I'll come watch again."
And then all other feelings ceased mattering as elation soared through Ayane's heart. "Sure! We're going to have our next tournament coming up, so I'll let you know when I'll be competing."
"Looking forward to it," Amaimon said, and that time Michiko had to bite her lip to stop her shout of excitement, and Ryouichi whistled just loud enough to be noticeable.
And then the first set of their meat order arrived, and Ayane only had to give Ryouichi a look to behave, because he knew full well she'd char his dinner black if he didn't decide to shut the hell up.
"What a fucking mess."
Whiskey flopped down onto her bed with enough force to make Ruma's bunk above her shake. Alone in the room, Whiskey hadn't even bothered to turn the lights on, though she didn't need to. Hell, even without the trickle of light from outside sneaking in through the window, her half-demon's vision could have seen the room in perfect clarity. Whiskey took the utmost advantage of that ability and stared at the wall beside her bed, but not even the Firo Prochainezo poster she'd made for herself or the handful of photos Mocha had taken of their friends over the years could make her feel better. Hell, staring at a shot of herself, Ruma, and Mocha still in their green and black middle school uniforms just made her feel all the more guilty.
Their friendship hadn't gotten had the best of starts. Whiskey had been far more reserved then, wanting an ordinary life but too apprehensive of her own ability to feel confident in talking to full-blooded humans that were much more fragile than she was. Mocha was the chipper one, insistent on making friends—which probably would have been fine—except Ruma had been a bully and a yankee back then, and no one had had a good time.
And their little trio had had even less of a good time when the other two ended up with Temptaints and Amaimon got thrown into the mix.
It had been an awful time. Carnage everywhere. No one had died, but plenty had gotten hurt. Ruma and Mocha had been right in the middle of it, in no small amount because Whiskey was close to them. Amaimon had caused so much pain, and he'd laughed about it. He'd been having fun because other people were suffering. And when he'd shown up earlier in the school year, that hadn't changed. He simply destroyed because that was what he did.
Whiskey understood enough from Vati's lessons to know that wasn't exactly Amaimon's fault. That sort of behavior was the norm for Gehenna. Demonic values down in the depths were greatly different from humans. It was the same reason why Vati found amusement in every little thing around him, even atrocities like the Impure King's attack on Kyoto.
Like the clueless Fukui Ayane having a crush on one of the Eight Demon Princes of Hell.
Whiskey didn't like it, didn't agree with it, but she understood it. How many times had she been entertained by something atrocious happening, just because it was safely contained in the pages of manga, in the colorful motion of an anime? How, exactly, was that different?
(She knew the answer to that question. She just refused to acknowledge it.)
But that's not the problem.
As per usual—a shitty norm, but the norm nonetheless—Whiskey had been in charge of observing Amaimon during his latest excursion, which had led to her missing out on cram school. That was irritating in its own right, sure, but the alternative was letting him go unattended, which wasn't a real option at all.
She'd expected there to be another near emergency, another outburst of his power that could be used as evidence to get him away from Fukui Ayane and whatever innocents were unfortunate enough to be in the vicinity when Amaimon said to hell with behaving and went back to indulging his baser instincts.
It hadn't happened. Nothing had happened, aside from Amaimon watching Fukui play tennis (and she was stellar at it, for what it mattered) and nearly eating out the barbeque joint they'd gone out to afterwards. If Whiskey hadn't known, hadn't been able to sense his presence, she could have confused him for an—albeit, oddly dressed—human.
He'd smiled, and it hadn't been an expression undercut by malice.
He'd seemed normal.
Ordinary.
Jealousy curled up inside her gut, spread out its influence, and made a fresh nest. Everything she'd ever wanted, that feeling of peace, with no need for any concern to the world of demons and exorcists and all it entailed—
If he's really satisfied like this, if he can behave and act normal, if he's happy and Fukui-senpai is happy, too, what the hell right do I have to try and take that away from them?
Whiskey's eyes stung, and she was on her feet before anything even remotely close to tears could take form. She needed to beat something up again. Preferably something she could actually tear to shreds and not her friend.
Not even bothering to leave a note or take her phone, Whiskey pulled her shoes back on, opened the dorm room's window, and leapt out of it, ready to release the demons still deep in her Submission that could at least pose some sort of challenge should her hunt come up short.
[Author's Notes]
Goodness I've been tired lately. But new chapter for y'all!
Thanks to Dragon Lord Draco, Harvie007, and BlackMoonsDaughter for the reviews and follows! All the usual appreciation goes here, even though my mind feels millions of miles away.
Lots of different emotions floating around in this chapter. Whatever will come of all these things... See more of that in the next chapter, two weeks from now!
-Avi
[10.24.2020]
NEXT TIME:
"Are you out of your fucking mind?!"
"Because I think that Uncle Amaimon has a side to him that isn't as destructive as the rest of him."
"If you don't talk to me about it, at least make sure you go to someone else, okay?"
"Great! Now that that's out of our hair, we can focus on the more important things—like the school festival!"
"Whiskey, do you think Izona or Mocha-chan would be willing to go with me to get in?"
"Well, I guess since the Headmaster's your father, that makes sense."
"You've got a good story, and I wanted to do it justice."
"Sorry for the trouble…"
"Like a date?!"