No one ever said being the son of Satan was going to be easy. And if someone did, they weren't right in the head and ought to be put in a cozy little room with nicely padded walls.

No, having the God of Gehenna as his biological father was definitely not easy and people, the ones who knew anyway, tended to look at him funny.

Their eyes filled with mistrust or anger, and often outright fear.

If Rin was being honest with himself, that last one hurt the most.

Still, he bore it all with relatively little complaint. It wasn't so different from when he was growing up, after all.

He worked hard, just like his dad, his real father, not that psychotic human-candlestick — demon-candlestick? — had taught him. He learned to control his flames and little by little those looks went away. His friends were his friends again. And the other exorcists no longer tensed up when he walked into a room, fingers twitching in an aborted attempt to reach for a weapon.

Things were looking up, and not just for him but his brother too. Yukio was no longer in danger of going bald at twenty from stress and that was definitely a big plus.

Yes. Life was good.

And because the universe had a sick, twisted sense of humor, that was when they showed up…

xXx

Night had long since descended on the Land of the Rising Sun and all across Japan people lay fast asleep in their beds. The inhabitants of True Cross Academy were, of course, no exception. That is to say, the human ones weren't.

Samael, King of Time, sat behind his grandiose desk in his decadent office. His body, though it had at some point been human, no longer required rest as frequently as it once had, his demonic powers keeping it in tiptop condition, the small matter of the cellular degeneration caused by said demonic powers notwithstanding.

Standing before him were several neat and frighteningly tall stacks of documents and files. Their height was his own fault. With Lucifer's declaration of war and his painstakingly crafted wards and barriers in ruins, he'd had his hands full. Then, as if to add insult to injury, one of his Exwire students had been kidnapped, on schoolgrounds. And by his own spy no less!

The whole affair would be terribly embarrassing if it wasn't so very entertaining.

Miss Kamiki had since been recovered, the barrier was up and running again, and with reinforcements from various divisions of the Order, he was left with little else to do but the most tedious of tasks.

Paperwork.

Face set in a permanent scowl of displeasure, he worked his way through the workload one file at a time.

Reports were read. Requests granted or denied. His signature here. Another there.

Over and over and over again.

An aggravated sigh found its way out through clenched teeth.

It was somewhat amusing, Samael decided humorlessly while pinching the bridge of his nose, that of all possible things bureaucracy was the one equally abhorrent to both humans and (higher) demons alike. He simply couldn't stand paperwork. Not at all.

So great was his irritation, that for the briefest of moments he entertained some hope that Amaimon would return from wherever he'd wandered off to after being kicked out of the office for being too annoying.

The moment passed but alas his younger brother did not appear.

Perhaps it's for the best, Samael decided, tapping his pen idly against the table.

While Amaimon might offer a much-needed distraction from his work, it would surely be done by stirring up trouble in some way or form. Letting the demon out of his sight at all carried risks, but Samael had better things to do than babysit his wayward younger brother. And besides, Amaimon knew very well what would happen if he stepped out of line again.

It had taken weeks of gentle 'persuasion', but the chairman was now confident that his brother had been cured of his fits of disobedience, as well as his dislike for their youngest sibling.

As if.

Samael was no fool. He knew Amaimon still harbored an intense hatred for Rin but contended himself with the knowledge that, for now at least, the King of Earth knew better than to do anything that could result in damage to the school or its students.

Which, much to Amaimon's displeasure, included the object of his rage, as well as the other Exwires he so loathed.

Perhaps it was in poor taste, but watching his little brother get so worked up, all the while knowing he couldn't actually do anything to them, never failed to put a smile on the demon's face. Now if only he could get Amaimon to clean up after himself instead of just leaving behind mountains of candy wrappers after another of his rage-fueled eating binges, life would be wonderful indeed.

Samael had considered sending the demon back to Gehenna but ultimately decided against it. With Lucifer and the Illuminati breathing down his stylishly cravated neck, having the King of Earth around could be handy, if only as a messenger and occasional soundboard.

His newfound tolerance for Amaimon's continued presence was most certainly not due to some foolish desire for familial companionship. One of the more demonic persuasion, because as entertaining as either of the Okumura twins could be, rarely did they share his idea of a good time.

No, Samael might care for his siblings in his own way, but they were still demons. It wasn't strange to go decades without contact. Why, he hadn't spoken to his older brother in close to, oh, fifteen years or so. And as for the others...

Well.

His musings were interrupted by his cellphone blasting out the opening song of his currently favorite anime.

Turning his chair to face the window, Samael took the device out of his pocket. Humming along to the tune, he meant to answer it but paused as the name on the screen caught his eye.

"Oh my! Speak of the devil~!"

A predatory smirk bloomed on his face and he lifted the phone and answered.

"Now this is a surprise~," he purred. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Behind him, the paperwork lay on the desk. Utterly forgotten.

xXx

"Nii-san. Nii-san!"

Okumura Yukio shook his head and sighed. His brother kept snoring loudly, completely unresponsive to any attempt to wake him. How he could even sleep in that position was beyond Yukio. But then, he reflected, his Nii-san had slept in stranger places.

The young Exwire had somehow gotten tangled in his bed sheets, various limbs extending out at odd, even concerning angles. His tail lay coiled on the floor. Every few seconds, the black appendage would twitch, a sure sign his brother would be waking soon. But whether soon meant minutes or another hour was impossible to tell.

Yukio glanced at his watch again. At this rate they would both be late.

Reluctantly, he approached his older brother and reached down.

The tail was warm and soft to the touch. Rin murmured in his sleep and Yukio allowed himself a moment of guilt before squeezing.

"AAARGH!"

With a scream, his brother shot out of bed and the tail tore from Yukio's grip.

"Fuck! What the hell, Yukio?! That hurt!" The half demon cradled his tail to his chest in an attempt to sooth the ache and shot his brother a teary-eyed glare.

Yukio rose, the light reflecting off his glasses adding to his serious demeanor. "Get up," he ordered pitilessly. "School starts in 20 minutes."

"And why the hell couldn't you wake me up like a normal person?!" his brother snapped back. Still, the other boy got out of bed and began rushing about to get ready.

"I tried." Yukio shook his head again as his brother started hopping around on one foot, trying to get his uniform on. "You wouldn't get up."

"Then try harder damnit! Don't just go around grabbing people's tails! Not cool, man! AH!"

His brother tripped, face crashing into the floor.

Ignoring the curses that followed, Yukio adjusted his glasses and began his customary battle against the migraine that exposure to his brother never failed to induce.

"...Just get ready so we can go."

xXx

Despite a hectic morning, the rest of the day passed without a single hitch.

Which was why Rin's face quickly soured when Mephisto, in dog form, fell into step beside him just as he was returning to the dorm.

Yukio was off doing teacher things but had, after a barrage of nagging from Rin, promised to be home for dinner later.

The little dog's tail was wagging faster than the naked eye could see, clearly delighted at the coos and squeals he received from the day school students walking by.

Rin made a face.

Weirdo.

"What do you want?" he asked the mutt once they were out of earshot.

In response, Mephisto gave him a sidelong stare. It was a strange sight, coming from a dog. Especially one wearing a pink, polka dot scarf.

"Now now, Okumura-kun. We've talked about this." There was a burst of pink smoke, and when it lifted, Mephisto shook his head in an overdone display of disappointment. "At least try to be more respectful when speaking to your elders. Or you'll find not everyone is as indulgent as I am."

Since Rin wasn't about to touch that statement with a ten-foot pole, he repeated the question. Slowly this time.

"What. Do you. Want?"

"A third season for one, preferably with more screen time for me," the taller man lamented, chuckling at the metaphorical question marks now floating around Rin's head. "But never mind that for now~ As to why I'm here, consider it moral support!"

And just what the hell is that supposed to mean?

Mephisto smiled that creepy smile of his. The one that said I-know-more-than-you-do-and-I'm-not-telling. Rin absolutely hated that smile.

"You'll see soon enough," the demon assured him before he even had a chance to ask. He gestured to the front entrance of the old building. "Just mind your manners and you'll be fine~"

As he stood there, Rin seriously considered running away. Just hightailing it out of there and never looking back.

Clearly whatever Mephisto was talking about was inside. And anything that got that freaking clown so damn excited, judging by shit-eating grin he was now sporting, wasn't something Rin wanted to deal with. Ever.

It was only the knowledge that he'd never succeed at escaping the weirdo that kept him from making a break for it.

Better to get it over with, Rin thought, and with great reluctance reached for the handle.