Chapter Three:
Hisashi arrived at Izuku's room the next morning carrying a box of marbles.
Izuku opened the door with a polite smile. "Good day, my lord."
"Call me Dad," Hisashi said, trying once again. At least now that Izuku had given up on his simpleton act, he'd fastened his kimono properly and combed his hair. "I haven't yet found a good pet for you, but I thought we might play some games together. We can get to know each other."
Izuku made a neutral noise in the back of his throat. "I don't need a pet. That was a joke."
Because he didn't intend to stay. But that could be changed, once his son saw how much better life was here. Hisashi held up the box. "Would you like to play a game of marbles?"
Izuku gave him an odd look. "I'm a bit old for children's games, my lord."
"Teenagers play with marbles! I asked my servants."
"Despite my outward appearance, I am not in my teens." Izuku smiled politely. His eyes said As you should already know. "But if it's request from my host, then of course I'll give it a try."
At least Izuku had agreed. Hisashi tried not to feel hurt. When he'd been younger, he'd been secretly jealous of the group of servants' children who used to play marbles outside his window. His schedule had been so packed with lessons, combat training, and magical experiments that he hadn't a single spare moment for games. So he'd cursed their marbles to burn and melt in their hands. It had been one of the few acts of pettiness he regretted later, because he hadn't been able to find a single marble in the castle to play a game with his son.
To save time, Hisashi had ordered a servant to create a variety of round shapes from his mother's old jewelry. Thinking of how much it would have infuriated the old bat was half the fun.
Hisashi stepped in the bedroom. Several books lay spread across the tables, proving at least Izuku had enjoyed the gifts. "First, we're supposed to draw a circle on the floor." Hisashi pulled out the piece of chalk he'd brought along. "It feels naughty, drawing on the floor. I wouldn't have dared when I was your age." He'd once been severely beaten just for spilling sauce on his shirt.
"Very good, my lord," Izuku said in that same flat, distant tone.
Hisashi drew the circle and placed the marbles in the middle in an X pattern. "Pick one to be your 'shooting' marble. You use that to capture other marbles."
Izuku picked the closest marble to him, a diamond.
"The goal is to use your shooter to knock other marbles out of the ring. Whoever captures the most marbles in the end wins. I'll show you how to shoot." Hisashi curled one finger around the marble and rested his thumb beneath it. A servant, one of those he'd cursed as a boy, had shown him how to do this. Even though they'd once been the same age, the man had turned deathly elderly. The difference in lifespans between classes of demons had reminded Hisashi of the necessity of transforming Izuku into a full demon. But he'd worry about that later—for now, he wanted to play with his son. "Squeeze and flick the marble with your thumb." Hisashi's marble shot forward and struck a ruby one. It shot backward, out of the ring. "I got it on my first try. I must have natural talent."
"Very impressive, my lord," Izuku said without a trace of sarcasm. There was no emotion at all on his face. He flicked his marble. It went wild.
"You'll have better luck next time," Hisashi said.
Izuku grunted.
For the next couple rounds, Hisashi deliberately missed a few times to give Izuku a chance to catch up. Izuku didn't improve. He didn't seem to be trying.
When Hisashi had been a child, he would have loved to have a parent who wanted to play games with him. Were the games too young as Izuku had said? Or did Izuku simply still not like him? Either was horrifying in different ways. He wanted his son to like him, and he didn't want to believe he'd missed Izuku's entire childhood. It couldn't already be too late.
Izuku stared at the marble in his hand. "Is this a real diamond?"
"Yes, I made it from my mother's old necklace. I longed to play such a prank as a child." Hisashi laughed, inviting Izuku to share the joke.
Izuku shrieked, "The humans in your territory can't even protect themselves from passing wyverns, and you're using diamonds to play marbles?"
Hisashi blinked. "I haven't noticed a particular wyvern problem."
"Of course you haven't." Izuku's eyes narrowed. "I used to eat leaves as a child."
Hisashi inhaled sharply. "That's terrible. I'll bring a doctor in tomorrow to assess you for malnutrition. You'll never have to eat leaves again. You live in a castle now."
Izuku stared at him in a way Hisashi couldn't decipher. Hisashi felt like the two of them were talking past each other. He asked, "Is something wrong?"
Exhaling deeply, Izuku said, "Nothing, my lord."
This was even worse than Izuku's anger. Indifference gave Hisashi nothing to work with. He looked down at the marbles strew across the floorboards, his enthusiasm gone. "Let's try another game."
As he pushed open the door, Hisashi said, "It's such lovely weather today. Good to get some fresh air."
"Yes, my lord," Izuku said.
By this point, Hisashi could tell that he was getting my-lorded as a passive-aggressive insult. But he didn't know how to handle it. He didn't want to punish Izuku—that would only make the distance between them grow vaster. He'd offer bribes, except he had no idea what his son liked. Izuku had gotten so irrationally upset about the marbles. It would be easy to step wrong. "We need to properly celebrate your homecoming. What sort of presents do you like?"
Izuku said, "I'd like you to build a fence around the human village below as protection against wyverns."
Hisashi winced. "But what about something for you?" He tried to bargain: "I'll build your fence if you tell me one gift that you'd actually use, for yourself."
Izuku hesitated. Eventually, he said, "I enjoyed the story about the man summoned from another world. Is there a sequel?"
"There's a whole series!" Hisashi said with delight. "But they're already on your bedroom shelf, so I'm not sure if that counts as a gift. Anything else?"
"The enchantments on my armor could stand to be renewed. I'd been saving up for it."
Hisashi recoiled. "But you don't need armor any longer. You're not thinking about going back to that mercenary troop, are you? But why? You don't need to fight to survive now." He thought about the gifts his younger brother used to like. "How about an easel and a set of paints and jeweled pens?"
Izuku's shoulders sagged. He said, "That sounds perfect, my lord."
The wall had returned. Hisashi felt like a failure as a parent. He wasn't at all satisfied with this outcome, but continuing to press Izuku would do more harm than good. Hisashi told himself that they could take their time to get to know each other.
After all, despite what he'd claimed, he had no intention of letting Izuku leave after a few days.
Hisashi cleared his throat. "Just beyond the garden, there's a grassy field next to the fountain." He gestured at the covered path. Pink flowering vines wound along the white roof. "I thought we could play a game of kickball."
"Yes, my lord," Izuku said.
Hisashi winced. "Unless there's something else you'd rather play instead? Anything at all?"
Izuku hesitated. Then he took a deep breath. "You're legendary for your sword skills. I'd love to spar with you, even once."
Hisashi stared. "I told you, you don't have to fight any longer." This was completely incomprehensible. He'd always wanted to be the sort of father who would never let his child handle a sword before they were fully grown. But it was already too late. Izuku had killed and probably nearly been killed countless times while holding a sword in his hand. A panic rose up inside Hisashi's chest. "Even if you were forced to learn the sword in the past, you can't have enjoyed it."
"But I do enjoy swordplay," Izuku said. "I'm good at it. If you'd only give me a chance to show you, then you'd see that I'm not a child. Maybe I inherited my talent from you." He smiled, tentatively.
Under other circumstances, Hisashi would have been delighted at his son's first smile. But he was already on the edge of panic. "No, that can't possibly be what you want. No child would ever fight in battle unless they'd been forced. It was all the fault of those damn mercenaries, wasn't it? They taught you that you only had value if you could kill for them. I understand! My parents were the exact same way. They didn't care about me unless I was useful to them." His voice rose. "I'll kill them all!"
Izuku took a step backward. "No! Those are my comrades! They didn't force me to do anything—I auditioned to join the Present Mercenaries because I admired them! Don't you dare hurt them because of me!" A glow flashed across his eyes.
With his other sight, Hisashi saw clearly the mark of Greed stamped across his son's soul, blazing bright with untrained power. To react so strongly, did that mean his young, naïve son considered the Present Mercenaries part of his hoard? A bunch of unwashed, illiterate peasants who probably actually believed that bathing more than once a month would kill them? Izuku cared more about them than his own father? Unable to take his eyes away, Hisashi whispered, "You truly value them so much?"
"Yes. They're my friends." Izuku's face warped, twisting into an entirely fake smile. "Please, Dad. I'm asking you to release the Present Mercenaries from their contract and let them leave these lands. Consider this your first gift to me." His tone was natural, but the pulsating magic around him revealed he was one wrong word from going for the jugular.
The very first time his son had called him dad, and it had obviously happened because Izuku feared him. Hisashi swallowed. He'd always sworn to never be the kind of father who would scare his son. How had he messed up this badly so soon? Although Izuku hadn't been delighted about coming back to live in the castle, his rudeness at least proved his fearlessness. Hisashi far preferred his son to be sarcastic than afraid of him. He needed to fix this. "You don't need to worry about your mercenary friends. I won't do anything to them. I promise."
Hisashi knew that if he harmed something in Izuku's hoard, then it would damage his relationship with his son irreparably. After all, he'd react the same way toward anyone who touched his own treasures. He'd made a huge mistake merely by threatening them. Someday, Hisashi hoped he could persuade his son to cast such worthless, loathsome creatures out of his heart, but until then, Hisashi wouldn't dare make a move against the mercenaries. Not as long as he still wanted to win his son's love.
Eyes wary, Izuku asked, "Can the Present Mercenaries leave?"
Hisashi sighed. "I'll release them from their contract." Briefly, he regretted losing such valuable potential hostages. But he wanted a permanent, durable relationship with Izuku, not his son's current forced politeness. Hisashi didn't want to manipulate his own child the way he manipulated his enemies. A peace offering was necessary to rebuild trust.
Izuku nodded. "Thank you." His voice caught. "I'd like to say goodbye."
Hisashi wanted to scream that he could provide Izuku with a far better life than those ragtag mercenaries. But he only smiled and said, "Of course. I'll summon an escort for you." He would be gracious.
The smile lasted until Izuku left. Then Hisashi collapsed into the nearest chair. Everything was going wrong. Izuku didn't like or trust him. Izuku didn't want anything he had to offer. Izuku was afraid of him.
Perhaps even worse, Izuku looked at Hisashi with the exact same thinly-veiled contempt that Hisashi had once directed at his own father. It filled Hisashi with bewildered agitation. He'd resolved to do everything the opposite of his horrible excuse for parents. Instead of cruelty and demands, he'd showered his son with love. So why was he still getting the same bad result?
Even though Izuku's years should make him a child, there was nothing childish about his demeanor. Guilt and despair weighed on Hisashi. While he'd been living in luxury, his poor too-young son had lost his childhood to poverty and abuse. There might never be a way to get back what should have been.
No. Hisashi refused to accept it. Izuku was clearly traumatized. With time, the poor boy would start healing and act closer to his age. It couldn't be too late. Hisashi couldn't have failed his only child. His mind spun, forming plans. If he just tried harder and applied more subtlety and cleverness, then he would be able to set the world back how it should be.
Misery twisted in Izuku's stomach as he poured out the story of what had happened to Captain Yamada. "I'm sorry. I failed to heed your advice. If I'd kept going along with everything the damn demon said instead of asking for sword practice, then I wouldn't have turned his temper on you." Izuku hung his head, unable to meet his captain's eyes.
Yamada folded his hands together. "It sounds to me like All for One would have blamed any troop you fought for in battle. This incident merely brought everything out into the open. I'm grateful that you secured our release from his service. We'll leave at once." Yamada's tone gentled. "I'll make sure everyone stays far away from Lord Hisashi's realm for the foreseeable future. There are many other jobs we can take. You haven't doomed us, Izuku. I promise."
Izuku still couldn't look up. "Is it too late for me to persuade him I'm not worth caring about?" He tried to sound calm. He was more scared than he cared to admit that the rest of his life would be one long stretch of being treated like a child by an overpowered madman.
Yamada rubbed his goatee. "I don't know. He already seems much more interested in you than I anticipated. Not many demon lords could be caught playing marbles or kickball. Maybe it was too late from the beginning, no matter what you did."
Or the captain was just trying to make him feel better. Izuku gnawed on his lip. "I'll keep trying to maintain distance between us. If I'm not a source of entertainment for him, then perhaps he'll tire of me."
"I wish I could take you with us," Yamada said.
Izuku's head shot up. "You can't. You must know that. Demon Lord Hisashi was deadly in earnest when he threatened to kill you."
"I know," Yamada said. "But I can't abandon you here with no way to escape." Reaching under his chest, he pulled out a white token with a black cat drawn on it hanging from a chain. "Take this. If you break the token, then it will summon an old friend of mine to help you. He's the one and only person who could break you out of a demon lord's castle. Tell him that the favor he owes me is cleared if he gets you out."
Izuku swallowed. "That's too valuable. I can't take this, captain."
"I insist." Captain Yamada forced Izuku's fingers to close around the token. "I won't be able to sleep at night if you don't have this. It's the best I can do…and frankly, it's far from a perfect solution. My friend can break you out once, especially if Demon Lord Hisashi has no reason to suspect he's coming. But staying free is another matter. Since you're related to the demon lord, he can use your blood connection to track you down. It would still be better if you can persuade him to lose interest in you before you leave."
"I'll try that first," Izuku said. He had no intention of ever using this token. He couldn't drag Captain Yamada's friend into conflict with a demon lord. But he'd take the token because clearly the captain wouldn't let him go if he didn't. He hung it around his neck, hidden under his shirt.
Yamada smiled. "Before you leave, we'll throw you the traditional Present Mercenary farewell party."
Mercenary farewell parties involved lots of drinking and off-key singing. Koji had gotten drunk enough to pretend that was why he wept as he hugged Izuku. Ibara and Itsuka hadn't bothered with the pretense, clinging to him and crying so hard that he cried, too. Neito told him that he'd hold onto Izuku's prized belongings because he expected a hefty reward from the demon lord's son for returning them later. Then Itsuka whacked him over the head. Izuku didn't mind—he knew that was Neito's own special way of getting Izuku to promise to see him again.
The mercenaries created a makeshift dart board with some paint, then started their favorite game. Anything but a bullseye meant that you had to drink. The further the ring, the more drinks. Izuku grinned. This was his kind of game. Not like those fucking children's games his crazy fuck of a father kept forcing on him. Seriously, couldn't the demon work out his unresolved childhood issues playing with an actual child?
In his annoyance, Izuku's hand slipped. His dart embedded itself in a chair. "Damn it."
"That's five sips!" Neito shouted.
"Drink! Drink! Drink!" the other mercenaries bellowed, clapping their hands. In the corner, three men with linked arms sang a gibberish song.
"I know, I know," Izuku grumbled. Neito handed him a mug.
Five chugs of beer later, Izuku's hands were much less steady. But that was the challenge of the drinking game. He slipped again, and drank some more. The world turned blurry. The singing of the men became even more incomprehensible.
Izuku threw the dart. He threw it in the wrong direction, hitting a demon mercenary in the back of the head. It was blunt-tipped, so it bounced off.
"Sorry," Izuku slurred.
The demon stood up. "You want a fight?"
It sounded like a threat, but it was more of a playful question. The Present Mercenaries enjoyed brawling in taverns. That was part of the fun of their parties. They fought with fists only, no weapons, to avoid any serious injuries.
Izuku realized this might be the last decent fight he could expect for a long time with his overprotective demon lord father in the picture. He grinned. "You have no idea how badly I need to punch someone in the face."
"Oh yeah? Maybe it will be my fist having a date with your face." The demon put up fist cuffs.
Izuku jabbed his shoulder. The demon caught his arm, but Izuku twisted free. An elbow clipped him in the nose. He touched, feeling a drop of blood. "Not bad. My turn now." He swung, punching the demon squarely in the chest.
The demon reeled backward. "You've got strength for such a puny thing!" he cried.
"I'm just getting started." That probably would have sounded more impressive if Izuku hadn't stumbled and fell down on one knee. His head pounded. His whole world was a blur of colors. He'd better finish this while he could still move. Leaping up, he raised his fist. "Come at me!" he cried, hoping his opponent would move first so that Izuku could figure out where the demon was.
The demon charged forward. Izuku started to punch.
Then the demon dropped to the floor in a dead faint.
Fist raised awkwardly, Izuku blinked. "Huh. Either he was drunker than he looked, or I'm even scarier than I realized."
"Ah-hem," someone said behind him.
Izuku winced at the distinctly unamused voice of Demon Lord Hisashi.
Hisashi crossed his arms as he examined his son. "Have you been drinking?" The answer was obvious. He could smell Izuku's breath from here.
Izuku scowled. In a belligerent tone, he demanded, "The hell are you doing here? Are you stalking me?"
This time, Hisashi had full confidence that he was in the right. "It's the middle of the night. You still hadn't returned home. And now I catch you out underage drinking and getting into fights. You are in a great deal of trouble, youngling."
"Excuse me? I'm not young. I can take care of myself. You have no right to—" Izuku took two steps, then fell over.
Hisashi caught his inebriated son and cradled him against his shoulder. The mercenaries stared at him in terror and shock. Hisashi beamed, flashing fangs. "You can relax. I'm not here to eat you, just take my son home."
He whistled as he left, in a rare good mood. He had the perfect excuse to look after his child. Time to parent!
Izuku's head felt like someone had taken a hammer to it. He groaned.
"Aw, poor little one." Someone placed a cold cloth against his forehead.
"Koji?" But Koji would never call him little. Izuku opened his grimy eyes. This room looked far too fancy to be his one back in the inn. His silken sheets felt too soft. The bookshelves covering the wall told him that he must be back in the castle. Demon Lord Hisashi's blurry form leaned over him.
"Go away," Izuku muttered.
"I'll leave if you can escort me to the door," Hisashi said sweetly.
Izuku groaned, acknowledging the point. He couldn't feel his legs.
Hisashi held up a cup to his lips. "This will make you feel better."
The cold water soothed Izuku's throat. He gulped it down.
Hisashi said, "I'm not angry at you, youngling. I'm just disappointed."
Izuku moaned. "Must you?"
Hisashi said, "Yes, I must. I'm your father."
"I don't remember you raising me," Izuku grumbled.
"Ah, then I'd better make up for lost time."
"You really don't have to."
"From now on, you have a curfew. You will be in bed by sundown every night."
"What?" Izuku screeched. He tried to sit up, only to fall back in the bed, moaning and clutching his aching head.
"Would you like a pain reliever?" Hisashi asked.
Izuku grumbled, but didn't say no. Hisashi gave him a pill and held water up to his lips. The demon lord had good quality medicine. It worked fast, easing the splitting pain between his temples.
Hisashi continued, "Since you've proven untrustworthy, you will no longer be allowed out of the castle without permission and guards. Your food and drink will be strictly monitored by myself."
"YOU HAVE NO RIGHT—" Izuku fell back onto his pillow, whimpering. "Ow. Ow. Ow."
"Does it hurt your head when you shout?" Hisashi asked. The damn demon lord sounded smug.
Izuku covered his ears.
"Would you like another pill?" Even more smugness filled Hisashi's voice.
Izuku mouthed curses at him, but he took the painkiller. His stomach growled.
"You must be hungry. You slept for nearly ten hours." Hisashi tugged Izuku into a sitting position.
It took Izuku a moment to realize he'd ended up lying with his head leaning against the demon lord's shoulder. He squirmed.
Hisashi brushed his curls. "Say ah." He stuck spoonful of soup into Izuku's mouth.
Izuku was extremely hungry, so he swallowed by reflex. Then he protested, "I can feed myself!"
"You can? Go ahead."
Izuku lifted his hand. He stared at it, trying to remember how fingers worked.
Hisashi held up the spoon. "Is this what you're looking for?" By this point, the demon lord sounded positively sardonic.
"I could have done that," Izuku said, cross-eyed.
"Uh-huh." Hisashi fed him the soup. "Next time an adult offers you alcohol, I hope you remember this moment and just say no."
Izuku would surely have had something witty and sarcastic to say if he hadn't passed out again.
Hisashi tucked his wayward child into bed, then turned out the lights. This brought back many good memories of looking after his sickly younger brother. Izuku did need a father. And with time, he would surely come to see it.
In retrospect, Hisashi had pushed a bit too fast. The marble game had been too much too soon. He regretted letting the mercenaries leave—his son had proved willing to compromise for their sake, so they would have been useful. But on second thought, it also would have been risky to threaten people close to Izuku. He wanted his son's love, not his fear.
Other weaknesses could be created. If Izuku wanted to feel like he was helping the humans in Greed's territory, then Hisashi would allow that. If Izuku was loyal to those he called friends, then Hisashi could create new bonds to tie him closer to the demonic lands.
Hisashi found a servant and ordered, "Send a message to Tomura. Tell him to return home at once."
OMAKE TIME!
Omake: Hisashi's Servants, Who Have Only Ever Seen His Regal Side
Hisashi: The Noble House of Greed faces the worst crisis of our existence!
Servant: Is it an invasion?
Hisashi: No, my son seems to be pushing me away.
Servant: …
Hisashi: I need you to teach me to play marbles so I can bond with him.
Servant: …
#
Omake: To Kill or Not to Kill, That is the Question
Hisashi: Why would my son hoard a bunch of smelly humans? His poor mind must have been damaged by all his childhood trauma.
Izuku: What the hell is a hoard? I care about them because they're like family to me.
Hisashi: S-someone else is your family? (Goes braindead.)
Izuku: I don't know how I shut him up, but I like it.
Hisashi: At least after they die of old age, I'll have my son all to myself.
Izuku: Uh. About that.
Hisashi: Izuku, you can't make them all immortal. I simply won't tolerate it.
Izuku: No, I don't want to become a demon. I'm planning to die with my friends.
Hisashi: Wait! I changed my mind! I'll let you keep all your pets forever and ever!
#
Omake: The Mercenary Bragged for the Rest of His Life
Demon Mercenary: Once, I got in a bar fight with the Demon Lord of Greed's son. I totally had him cornered when his father showed up to save him.
Random Woman at the Bar: Why don't you claim you beat All Might in battle? It would sound more convincing.
#
Omake: All for One's POV at the Bar
Hisashi: I knew those mercenaries were bad influences on my son. If I'd raised him from the start, he would be a sweet, kind boy who would never drink or brawl.
Yamada: Uh, your problem child is the number one cause of fights in the troop. He still owes me for the half a dozen times I bailed him out of jail.
#
Omake: The Dad Talk
Hisashi: I'm extremely disappointed by your recent behavior. I trusted you to spend a night out with your friends, and you let them lure you into underage drinking. Are you listening to me?
Izuku: Not really. I've had loads of dramatic bosses over the years. I give your monologue four out of ten, maybe a three for repetitiveness.
Hisashi: Who dares have better monologues then me? Give me names, I'll kill them all.
#
Omake: Bigger Problems than Therapy Can Fix
Hisashi: Greetings, human psychiatrist. I've kidnapped you so that you can help me repair my relationship with my newly discovered son. I've been smothering him with love and affection, but that only seems to make him retreat.
Psychiatrist Who Has Been Tied to a Chair: Maybe you're coming on too strongly. You two only just met, you're strangers. Give him some space.
Hisashi: Space? That sounds like a ridiculous thing that my little brother always wanted, but it wasn't good for him either. You must be some kind of hack. (Eats the psychiatrist's soul.) Get rid of this corpse and bring in the next doctor! We're going to keep trying until someone tells me what I want to hear.
