A/N: With this it seems like I paraphrased an old Japanese folk tale without even knowing it existed. I discovered it afterwards. =P

I do not own or profit from any of what Kazue Kato has created.

The music grew louder, and the bustling rivers from the streets fanned out into a delta embracing a small lake. Like a giant clam lifted from the ocean floor by a storm, a courtyard floated in the middle of it; brightly coloured rice paper lanterns threw their light at the reflections of the stars, and a beautiful arcade bridge arched its back on spindly legs from shore to courtyard. Once on it, Shiro realised it wasn't an arcade: vines and flowers had grown into a canopy so dense that not a single drop of rain would get through in a downpour.

"Wow, are those…?"

"Aosaginohi", Mephisto confirmed, throwing an eye at the ghostly herons that shone blue light over the still, black waters beneath the bridge. "Want to try eating one? I hear it makes bodily fluids glow blue for a week."

"I think I've learnt not to eat anything from this place, thank you very much."

"That I doubt: I think the matter is that you can't eat anything", the demon hummed merrily in his lilting cadence. "You're still crying."

"I'm not crying." Irritably, he wiped moisture from his eye with the back of his hand. "My eyeballs are sizzling in their sockets from the fumes of that torture fruit."

"Devil's Tongue", he corrected politely. "And how is your tongue?"

"Insensitive and black and shrivelled-up like your heart."

"Is that so~? Doesn't sound any different from usual. Quid pro quo, then~?" he snickered, glancing down at him from the corner of his eye with a smile that made Shiro want to dunk his head in a baptismal font.

"Like hell it is: your body regenerates."

"So does yours, just slower~"

"Tch, bite me."

Mephisto's grin widened to bare pearl-white fangs, and the forest green eyes Considered.

"I know what you're thinking", Shiro said in level tones, selecting a skewer with chicken hearts to point at the smug face, "and you will get this up your nose if you do anything more than think."

"And you wonder why you have no luck with women, you uncivilized animal…?"

Out in the courtyard… Shiro wasn't sure what it was. It combined the slow, ritual feeling of fan dancing with the lissom, fluent grace he'd never been able to copy from Mephisto's swordsmanship. The dancing demons wove intricate patterns back and forth, tapping feet and claws to the music and making the most of their extravagantly beautiful clothing. Merry, rotund demons that Shiro realised must be tanuki formed an orchestra in a spectacular whelk-shell gazebo: the bamboo flutes grew bent, the shamisens' necks lengthened and shortened to accommodate the tune, furry bellies were used as drums, and in place of bells they jostled their big bellies to produce a muffled, jingling sound.

"No way." Shiro's eyebrows rose high as he inspected the musicians. "They really can use their bellies as drums?" His eyebrows came back down, furrowing as he tilted his head to the side. "But… I don't get how they make them ring and jingle like that. They eat rocks…?"

"Bellies are only for drumming: those aren't their bellies."

Judging from a second glance, no. Those were not bellies. Big and... hairy. But not bellies.

"…couldn't you just have lied and spared my brain that knowledge?" he groaned and covered his eyes with his free hand. "Now I'm stuck with images of Ryuuji-san that I really don't want."

"Hardly my problem~ 'The only way to get rid of temptation is to give in to it', as Wilde put it. And since it is my sole opportunity to do so, I intend to give in to every single one."

"Well you've got plenty of bad fruit to pick from", Shiro observed, looking out over the billowing ocean of brightly-coloured fabric. "Go knock yourself out, then."

"Oh, I will~ Shall we…?"

Shiro stared at him as if asked if he'd like another Devil's Tongue. What? Did he…? No, he probably just… But he did look like…

After several minutes of confusion, clarity, new depths of bemusement, and a moment's pondering if Belial really knew what he was talking about, Shiro managed one stunningly eloquent sentence:

"I don't dance."

"Fufufufu the lion roars in the face of danger but trembles at the thought of a mere dance? Aren't you sweet~" the demon snickered, eyes aglow with a flirtatious type of mischief that made Shiro's stomach twist uncomfortably. "Very well, a shy flower is lovely as any other, but grows best in the shade." The tip of the now bare skewer landed light reproach on Shiro's nose. "Stay out of trouble, little lion. There are bigger cats than you out hunting tonight."

"And he's one of them", Shiro thought. Watching Mephisto swagger out among the dancers, his lips quirked into an amused smile. "Sure, if you've got a pink limo and a mansion with better view than Tokyo Tower you can walk like that. King of Foppishness alright."

Chuckling at his bizarre friend, he shuffled over to the wooden railing that surrounded the dancing courtyard. No need to ask him to stay out of trouble: this was the demons' parade, and if he focused on anything else than keeping his heart closed he would become the proverbial rabbit in the fox den. Still, it had gone smoother than he'd thought. He felt that he was indeed immersed in demons, but none paid him any mind. Not even when he kept that crack open to his heart.

Shiro put the basket on the floorboards, slipped off the troublesome sandals and perched himself on the railing. It was a beautiful May night, couldn't deny that. A perfect night for going to the market – and what a market it had been…!

"Too bad he poofed away my smokes…"

However, among the gifts in the basket were an elegant, long-necked pipe, and dried tobacco. Shiro had already stuffed the pipe and lit it from a lantern when he realised it might not be human-friendly tobacco. Hadn't learnt anything, had he?

"I hate it when he's right." He did remember the Devil's Tongue… and the tea… and he really shouldn't smoke this… but the evening called for a smoke, would be perfected by a smoke, and this seemed to be the only one he would get.

With great caution, Shiro puffed at the slender mouthpiece.

"I could be smoking buffalo dung for all I know. That thing completely killed off my taste buds."

After a while of smoking with no ill effects he concluded that demons, having the sensitive noses they had, smoked a very light form of tobacco. Shiro drew a full breath, smiling at the tendrils that wound into the sky and bathed in colour from the lanterns. He tapped his bare foot to the beat of the belly-drums and let his thoughts drift with the twisting smoke. The music and the sounds of chirping frogs in the night wrapped around him like a good friend laying an arm around his shoulders, and he swayed slightly from side to side in the warm evening. The dancers circled back and forth with hypnotic grace, broke pairs, formed new ones… they danced like Mephisto talked; smooth and fluent… flourishing, with that odd, archaic cadence that was somehow also playful…

"Whoa…!" Shiro grabbed onto the railing at the sudden tremor. Earthquake…? No, it didn't seem like anyone else reacted to it.

A short distance away, a couple of dancers – a blue-skinned woman with hair like the foam atop raging waves, and a half-man half-goat whose horns were hung with glittering jewellery – had missed the bridge and crashed into the railing beside it. They seemed too busy grinding against each other to notice, however.

Shiro turned his eyes back to the courtyard with a slight blush, and was effectively reminded what dance really is.

Humans aren't particularly honest about themselves. They like calling dance 'culture', or 'entertainment' – or 'art', if they want to be exceptionally straitlaced about it. In any other animal species, 'dance' means courtship. Dance was the language of love before thought gave shape to word, the burning poetry of the body used to woo a partner since time immemorial. Humans may not acknowledge that, but demons do.

Shiro's gaze struck the wooden floorboards like an arrow. He felt as though his intestines had been strung from his pelvis to his sternum and strummed violently with a pick. Sure, he knew Mephisto had a taste in men: that didn't mean he ever wanted to see him with one.

Shiro slipped back into his geta sandals, fumbled to pick up the basket without the yukata showing too much skin, cursing under his breath as he tried to expel the images from his memory. Indecent, filthy, disgusting…! Mephisto hadn't just kissed a man, no; that look on his face as he did was debauchery incarnate, and how absolutely shamelessly he had snaked his arm around the guy's waist…!

And when they would pass over that bridge to go indulge in their perverted pleasures, Shiro did not want to sit nearby. He clip-clopped over the wooden structure as fast as the stupid geta would allow.

"Disgusting demon." His cheeks were probably redder than when he'd walked in on Midori and Sen, dammit. That hadn't been half as bad. Two girls together was kinda… hot. This was just wrong. Horribly wrong. "Couldn't they at least have left before they started… doing things like that…" Could've been worse: at least they had still had clothes on. "Though he already had the obi off and slung around the guy's neck…"

Shiro strode the market streets aimlessly, caring only to be far away from anything Mephisto might be doing right now. He tried calming himself down by telling himself he should have expected it. He knew Mephisto didn't care whether he slept with women or with men. He knew they had gone to the dancing court so he could pick a bedmate. He knew he should be more in control of his emotions, for the demons he stalked past turned their heads (in case such existed) after him.

"Exercise, dammit…" Quell the fire, gather yourself up behind iron bars. "It's a test, and you can't afford to fail it."

It was downright creepy. None of the demons had paid him any attention before, but now he felt eyes touch him wherever he went. And all his weapons and defences had been poofed away along with his uniform. A sitting duck. A rabbit in a fox den.

"Relax." Pff, quite the contradiction to what he was forcing his mind to do. "Some of them can probably smell fear. I just have to play it cool and act as if I have every right in the world to be here." He walked as casually as he possibly could, and cast glances left and right for branching paths and alleyways that would allow him to smoothly turn back to the lake and the safety of Mephisto's royal blood. If he was still there.

Shiro was silently cursing himself for leaving when he realised someone was addressing him. It was a walking treasure chest. The heavy bracelets of gold was the first thing that caught one's eye; second were the gems that littered the many necklaces adorning him from collarbone to waist; and third… third you thought he wore a skin-tight suit of copper under all the glitter, but that turned out to be his actual skin.

"May I have one?" the demon repeated, looking at him with yellow eyes as hard as the diamonds in his earlobes.

"Help yourself", he said, holding forth the basket with treats. Mephisto wouldn't notice if one or two was missing: and Shiro didn't know if a lone human could deny a demon anything here without getting into serious trouble.

"Where are you headed at such pace, boy?"

That was a very strange accent he had, but none that Shiro could place. His voice sounded… metallic. Like polished bronze. Like something smooth and hard and shiny.

"To the lake." Could work… maybe… "But I think I might have lost my way."

"You certainly have." A set of sharp teeth glinted in the smile, teeth that just might have been coated with gold. "The lake is this way." He turned towards the lake and motioned for Shiro to follow. "Delivering treats for the dancers, are you?"

"He thinks I'm a delivery boy? Works as a cover, I suppose." He righted the basket with his other hand, and followed. "Yes. I heard Prince Samael was there, and he's- his highness is supposed to be quite fond of sweets."

To his surprise, the demon winced. It was a small motion that he might not have noticed, if the light hadn't jerked suddenly in all his bracelets and necklaces.

"Word has it his highness is here tonight, yes."

Shiro hadn't thought about it before, but now that he did… 'His highness' this, 'his highness' that, 'his highness the Crown Prince'. Behind the bars of Shiro's closed heart, curiosity stirred.

"I'm not that familiar with demon customs, but is it wrong to call somebody royal by name?"

"There is nothing wrong at all in addressing members of the royal family by name, so long as proper respect is shown", the sleek metal-voice said. "We do, however, seldom call the Crown Prince by name."

"'Cause he's Crown Prince, or…?"

"An inquisitive mind you have~ Alas, I am a child in comparison to the age of that custom, and I know not its origins. I only know that one does not speak his highness' name aloud." His large lips pulled into a thin smile. "You have a keen interest in the ways of demons, yes? I can teach you all you want to know."

Had Shiro's attention not been occupied by how the onibi light gave the demon's skin the sheen of real copper, he might have noticed the hungry gleam in those diamond eyes.

"That's nice, but I think I'll pa- decline. I'm just a temporary visitor here, I'll be leaving soon." He steeled his heart a little more, just to be safe if that statement didn't go down well.

"Why~? You are young, and so is the night – it might be once a month for us, but once in a lifetime for you. Could you really let such an opportunity slip…?"

He felt it skirt his defences, tease his heart with touches that couldn't quite reach. Not that it needed to reach. He was unarmed. Alone. Easy prey.

"Dammit, why did I walk off?" Stall, that was the only thing he could do: stall until they reached the lake. It shouldn't be far now. Mephisto had to be there; the demon would never believe him if he said he was Prince Samael's friend. "Well, we've got time until I get to the dance." Some question, any question off the top of his head… "Why is it that demons don't care whether it's men or women they sleep with?" Great. Great question. "Good job, self."

It wasn't that far-fetched an association, but it wasn't a topic he wanted to discuss with any other demon than Mephisto. You never knew whose menu you were on.

"It is in the very core of every body to want another: it needs not the mind's opinion of gender, or the laws imposed by man." Metallic words, seductive words: words that curled around his neck like the coils of a boa. "It cares only for the touch of living flesh… and the sweet surge when life departs it at the highest moment…"

Shit, the demon was leaning in, pulling him by the obi…!

"I think that's all the information I need: no practical demonstrations, thank you. Oi...!"

There was a thick, muscular tail roping around him like a-

Out of the folds of time, a slender, towering shape appeared behind the demon. Appear might have been the wrong word, because there was none of the pink smoke or muffled explosions that accompanied him when he appeared; he simply was. As if he had always been there.

"Good evening. I believe you have something that's mine~?"

...and though it was the other demon he should have been afraid of, it was Mephisto that made Shiro's skin crawl. Perfectly polite and perfectly menacing: that was the same tone he had used when he told him of the imprint. The copper-skinned demon became, for an instant, stiff and unliving as a temple statue. The light in his eyes went out, turning them from diamond to slate. There would have been a frightened jingle of metal, if he had dared to even shiver.

"A thousand apologies, your highness", he said, bowing to him and unwinding his tail from Shiro as quickly as he could. "I did not know he belonged to your highness, else I would never have approached him."

"I trust not." He gave Shiro a heavy-lidded gaze up and down, seemingly satisfied with what he saw. "It's a good thing that no harm has befallen him. Quid. Pro. Quo~" His voice was soft, and his smile thin and sharp as an assassin's poison needle.

"Thank you, you highness", the demon said with the quivering trace of a scrape in his metallic voice, and left as hurriedly as his dignity would permit. When he did, Shiro blinked dizzily as orientation he didn't know he'd lost spun back in gear. They hadn't been headed for the lake, that was just illusion. They had been headed someplace entirely different: that alley of flower garlands led back out into the dark forest.

"…what the hell?" Shiro grimaced, though inwardly he breathed a sigh of relief. "Yours? I'm not your pet, you know."

"Whose would you rather be, then~?" he inquired sweetly, tilting his head to the side with a honeyed smile. "That grootslang's? The daitengu's? Take your pick: there are plenty here who would be happy to claim a human without master."

Shiro got the hint: demon society, demon rules. Didn't make it any easier to squeeze out a 'fine'.

"But it's only tonight", he pointed out as they strolled side-by-side back to the lake, to watch the grand finale of the parade. "And only because it's necessa- Just what do you think you're doing?" he snapped when Mephisto's thin arm snaked around his waist.

"Making sure other demons don't make the same mistake." He glanced down at him with a smirk that made no secret of how much he was enjoying this. "In your own words: tonight, you're mine~"

Shiro's face pulled in all possible directions. Oh, he could see the sense in it; and he saw exactly how Mephisto twisted that to his advantage.

"You make that sound so wrong I don't even know where to start…"

"You can start with not tripping over your own feet. It's very inelegant."

Mephisto's disturbance did make Shiro even more unsteady on the geta. He cursed under his breath and tried not to reflect on the situation. Tried not to remember that the last guy Mephisto had slipped his arm around had been virtually undressed on the spot. And speaking of slipping…

"If your hand goes any further down form where it is, I swear I'll make you tie that kimono right over left", he ground out, eyebrow twitching as he did his best to look straight ahead and pretend he wasn't the least uncomfortable. Not uncomfortable at all.

"If you insist~"

A ripple trailed through Shiro's spine as Mephisto's clawed fingers secured themselves more firmly onto his hip.

"Oh, yeah, that's what I insisted on. Honestly, didn't you get enough at the dancing court, you pervert?"

"Demons can never have enough", Mephisto winked with a sly grin. "Relax, Shiro – you'll have worry lines before you hit thirty!"

"Yeah…" He rubbed his forehead, attempting to smooth out his brow. "It was a tense walk, that. You're right: for me it's an achievement to grow older. It's a miracle if I reach thirty at all."

"Miracle might not be the proper word, with a guardian angel like me."

Mephisto's chuckle infected Shiro; he tried to stifle a bout of laughter, but didn't succeed very well. The idea was just too… silly.

"Mfufufufu, oh yes, that's gotta be the crappiest manga title ever: Guardian Angel Sammy…"

Mephisto made a… noise that was best described as a dog grumbling because it can't reach an itch.

"I told you not to use that nickname."

"I never do as I'm told, remember? And right now, I'm being showcased as your toy boy", he said in a voice reeking of insincere pleasantness. "That permits me to use any dirty tricks I can think of."

"Hm~ maybe I should print that on your ID-card, then?" Mephisto smirked, eyes lighting up with the idea. "Lower Second Class Toy Boy. Has quite the ring to it."

"Pffwahahahahahhaaa!" Oh yes, oh yes: the ring of cheap brothels in the shabbiest pleasure districts. "Oh god, Lower Second Class Toy Boy…! Ahaha-haah-haah do that and I'll shoot you, I swear!"

"Then I will demote you", the demon frowned delicately, although a a smile played in his eyes. "Lower Third Class Toy Boy. With restricted access to firearms."

"Fine by me: then I'll address my reports to Sir Sammy Cuddle-bun."

Mephisto hid his pained expression well, but Shiro felt him shudder through the hand on his hip.

They made an odd pair, yes. Unlikely and unexpected, yes. That was the beauty of it.

Where two worlds collide, there is an infinitesimal sliver of infinite possibilities that allows for all that both hold unlikely to occur. Where two opposites meet, anything that could be expected is nullified when they unexpectedly find likeness. Where light meets darkness, there is a grey zone for the ones who would attempt to walk a middle path that nobody has walked before.

The area was crowded long before they reached the lake. The particular street they had chosen ended where it was blocked by the backs of three huge, red-skinned oni cloaked in the pungent smell of rotting leather. Shiro expected them to move aside for Mephisto, and was startled when the latter pulled him close as if to-

*poof*

"Whoa-!"

He hadn't meant to grab onto Mephisto… but when you suddenly find yourself a hundred feet up in the air, you aren't picky as long as you can hold onto something solid.

"If your hand goes any further down from where it is", the demon grinned, using Shiro's words, "I will make you tie that yukata… looser~"

They sat on a floating divan from the murkiest nightmares of fashion, furnished with plush striped cushions. Oh well, Mephisto sat on it; Shiro sat in his lap, more or less. With one hand around the basket and the other at the small of the demon's back.

"And I will dump a basket of food over your head", Shiro informed him politely. He'd done that on purpose, that was for certain: Shiro vividly recalled when Mephisto had misinterpreted him in the infirmary while he was tying his bow. Shiro cautiously slid himself down on the divan, not really happy with how far he would have to fall to hit the ground. "We're watching the show from here?" he asked, stealing a distrustful glance downward and concluding that they hovered above the crowd around the lake. They wouldn't see much of the performance from up there.

"The only proper way to watch anything is in comfort, from the best seat", he snapped his fingers and produced several tiered serving trays loaded with biscuits and pastries, "with snacks." He leaned into his cushion with a content look as he selected a bite-sized slice of strawberry cheesecake. Just then, a familiar screeching, hissing noise shot through the air.

The first firework threw cascades of red light over them, and Shiro burst out laughing. Crossfire shot up from all sides of the lake and echoed through the silent forest, and Shiro laughed through it all: hearty, unrestrained laughter that shook his body free of tension and heavy thoughts.

"Oh, you did it, you sneaky bastard…! Hahahaha…!" He ran his fingers through his messy hair and grinned incredulously at the red, blue, white, and golden sparks that devoured the night around them. "You actually did it… Yukatas and fireworks and a secluded viewpoint…" He shot a glare at the demon next to him, but couldn't clear the smile entirely off his face. "You can forget that I'd hold your hand, though."

"How unromantic…" Mephisto pulled a face, but there was a smile tugging his lips as he licked cheesecake off his fingers.

"I thought we'd established that already; if you're looking for romance you've got the wrong guy." Shiro peered over the edge of the divan. "And I think I might have accidentally knocked somebody out with my geta", he laughed softly, wiggling his remaining sandal with his toes.

"A most unusual way to make someone fall for you", Mephisto observed with a downwards glance, "but then again you do have your own unique way of showing affection, Cinderella."

"And I was Sleeping Beauty earlier…? Yeah, I was awake. A little. Seriously though, who's the princess here?"

"Why, I am obviously the Prince", Mephisto snickered and splayed a hand over his chest as a bright shower of sparks lit his eyes from green to gold. "That leaves you to be the princess."

"Fancy clothes, and shoes for the ball? No, you're my fairy godmother", he teased back. "Goes great with your big, pointy ears."

"I don't have big ears." Said ears pulled down as if to underline the statement. "They are proportional to the rest of me."

"Proportional to your oversized ego", Shiro chuckled under his breath, leaning back against his cushion to enjoy the show.

"I heard that."

"Big ears, good hearing."

"I don't have big ears!"

The night exploded around them, veiled in acrid mist and flashing light, and the clipped tunes from the tanuki orchestra chased the trails of smoke up to their front-row seat.

"I think this is the best birthday I've had", Shiro murmured through a soft smile. It didn't matter if Mephisto's ears were good enough to pick it up or not. It was still true.

A/N:

Grootslang – mythological giant snake in Angola, supposed to eat elephants and covet precious stones.

Belly-drumming and other tanuki musical talents It's almost common knowledge, I think, that older tanuki can use their bellies as drums. The "bells" I'm not sure about, but I found this nice little Japanese song to base that on:

Tan Tan Tanuki no kintama wa, Kaze mo nai no ni, Bura bura

Translates as:

Tan Tan Tan ring the Tanuki's balls, Even when the wind stops blowing, They swing away

I just don't get that country's culture sometimes… xD

Tying a kimono What's fascinated me for a while is the tremendous significance of merely tying your clothes together. Folding the kimono's front left side over right is standard: the only time you fold it right side over left is when you dress a body for a funeral.

Legends and stories In traditional Japanese art, the lion is often depicted with peonies. Why?

An old legend from Katherine M. Ball's Animal Motifs in Asian Art:

A priest, Shakkyo, while on a journey to Wu-t'ai-Shan in search of knowledge, was about to cross a stone bridge when a youth carrying fire-wood approached him and warned him not to proceed, as the country beyond was infested with lions which would devour him unless he was protected by spiritual power. As the priest was deliberating upon this information the place suddenly became fragrant and the air rang with beautiful music, while the youth revealed himself as Monju Bosatsu [a disciple of Buddha]. Then simultaneously, a lion came from the forest and, circling about a growing peony flower, danced for the edification of the priest.

There's also an old ghost story called Botan Dourou(The Peony Lantern) that you can, with a little squinting, apply to this chapter.

In the shortest version possible, a man sees a beautiful woman accompanied by a young girl holding a peony lantern walk past his house at night. He falls in love, and invites the woman to his house. She returns every night and leaves before dawn every day, and the man grows increasingly weaker. A suspicious neighbour peeks in on the pair one night, and since he is not under the spell, he sees that the woman is a skeleton: a ghost, leeching off the life of the man by seducing him. The neighbour warns him, and helps put up wards around the house when the man realises his life is in danger. The woman can't enter, but calls out to him from outside the house. Against better knowledge, overcome by his passion, he goes to her and follows her "home". The next morning, his body is found intertwined with the skeleton in her grave chamber.

Flower language The peony: king of flowers, wealth, elegance, honour, love, and good fortune in romance/marriage – something Mephisto needs with such a romantically challenged young man as Shiro…? =P The peony is also traditionally used for protection against evil spirits – which I suppose fits, in a twisted way. X)

The Wisteria (only the select pieces that apply here): patience, endurance, exploration, creative expansion.

Concerning names Names always have significance one way or the other in manga. I'm giving Shiro's a lot of attention, but it's harder with Samael since that has an entire mythology attached to it. Still: patching it together as best I can here. ^_^' Remember how Amaimon never calls him anything except aniue in anime and manga? In all likelihood, that is to hide the fact that his real name is Samael from the viewers/readers. But if we disregard ourselves and think of the logic of that inside the story, you can play with it in interesting ways. I can think of a few reasons why other demons wouldn't want to use his name…