A/N: Hello, guys and gals and all the rest. I don't think I can say this in any manner that would let me keep my dignity, but my short BtEatB-scribble on Mephisto as human and Shiro as demon is being turned into a doujinshi. And it looks bloody awesome. QwQ Go bother Time-King on deviantArt if you're curious to see it.

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

It's amazing, how little that actually changes when the world goes under.

The sky is still blue, the birds still sing, the breaks are still too short. The world doesn't care. Not one bit.

Only humans do.

They seemed to only exist in the periphery of his vision, peoples' eyes. Cautious glances en passant. Skulking peeks barricaded behind books. Curious, prying, but never asking.

You could tell by the eyes who was exorcist and who was regular student, these days. Regular students stepped out of his way, eyes tiptoeing past his for fear of angering the violent delinquent with the moniker Satan's Vessel. Exorcists' eyes lingered on him like fingers on a trigger, ready to do what had to be done at first sign the Devil had claimed his host.

Different eyes. Different truths.

One thing remained indisputably true. If the God of Demons did obtain his vessel, there was no contesting him. There was no student, teacher or field exorcist on site who could fight him off: no course of action possible, save one.

Destroy the vessel.

Shizuku's eyes were obsidian black, forged in the maw of a volcano and unrelentingly hard when ignoring him. He sat next to Ryuuji in cram school, as the half-demon had been assigned to copy notes for him as long as his arm was in cast. Shiro had apologised for that, hadn't meant to hurt him in their brawl, but…

Words. What use are they, when they can't change anything?

Midori's eyes were wasp venom, sharp and burning and persistent. How he had gained that strength; what Mephisto had done to him; how he could be able to host Satan – questions, questions. Always the same questions. Always the same answers.

"Why don't you answer? Why shield him, Shiro-kun?" She tailed him in the corridors, relentless. She wasn't screaming: only her eyes were. They searched him, pierced him, clawed at him. She wanted to know. She wanted to understand: wanted to help.

"Because he has nothing to do with this." He tried to walk past and leave her begging eyes behind. "Please, Midori-chan: I'm trying to get to my cla-"

"You go nowhere."

He didn't. He stopped dead in his tracks, with one hand frozen still where it had been about to deposit a cigarette between his teeth. He stopped, because that wasn't Midori.

"You stay, and you answer", she snarled, hairs bristling and lips drawn back from her teeth. She was blocking his escape, ready to drag words out of him by force if need be. "What are you, Shiro-kun?" Midori's ears streaked backwards over her head, quivering. "You look human, you smell human: why is demon's strength in your arms? Why is demon's look in your eyes?" She advanced a step with each question, barking them at him in forceful growls, backing him into the wall. "Why do demons have a home in your heart? You say Pheles has nothing in this." Midori halted her advance. She was magnificent… A demon's strength and a human's heart, joined as one in the radiant force of nature that pressed him into the corridor wall. "I say you lie."

Yes. He lied. And lived the lie, as he'd agreed to do for a chance to set his wrongs right.

Sen… He could see himself reflected in her big, vacant eyes. There was nothing there: no pity, fear, compassion, or rejection. Nothing but a man's dim silhouette framed in darkness.

It was Sen who told him that Midori had been temporarily suspended from school, after threatening Samael in person to tell the truth. He should've known, when her seat had been empty during class, but…

But she shouldn't have gotten in trouble for his sake.

No one should do that. That was the whole point: him steering the shit away from others. Midori wasn't supposed to get in trouble.

Midori wasn't supposed to care about him.

"You aren't like the Futotsuki. You aren't like anyone." Sen had been calm. The unnerving variety of calm. You aren't calm when your girlfriend gets suspended for threatening the principal's life. "Are you sure you are completely human, Shiro-kun? You had no grandparent of demon blood?"

"No, I'm human. All relatives I know of are human. I'm just…" Yeah, what? "…different."

The demon had pulled all strings he had to make the Council conclude that Shiro's lash-out had been provoked – severely provoked – and that it was a perfectly human response to the immature, hazardous course of action the Yaonaru brothers had taken. The blame was on them, if anything, for acting on petty spite and endangering the rest of the school. And hadn't the incident proven, rather than refuted, that Shiro was able to protect himself from possession even when dealt harsh psychological blows?

There seemed to be all the words one could ever need, when a demon reached out for them.

Philosophy. Theology. Italian. Sessions with Father Hayashi. The new curriculum filled out his formerly airy schedule to that of a full-time university student. There was always homework to be done, books to study, papers to write: every waking hour, there were tasks calling for his attention. Shiro didn't mind. Didn't mind at all.

Distraction is an underestimated painkiller.

A/N:

Dear Dare mo
No, Shiro won't be pranking Mephisto with any bubblegum, I'm afraid. Pranks always yield retaliation, and Shiro doesn't want to play those games anymore. =/ Uh, as for whether I'm like Samael/God or not, you can read the post below and decide for yourself. n_n'

Dear EiseiNoMuzai2 – and everyone, really
That's heart-warming. x) No, I don't think I will trash The End of the Beginning. *knocks on wood* I appreciate that people point out my slips so I can correct them. =) Sometimes I am aware of them, and play this mini-game with myself where I develop explanations that will make my earlier mistakes work out. As mentioned in the previous chapter (strategically placed way down at the bottom, where nobody reads x'9), I've crafted a solution that will explain how Mephisto could say what he said in ch 51, and also fix a mistranslation in the published volumes. =9 (Thank you, whichever translator is behind that!) Now I'm just waiting for the opportunity to implement it.

/ Dimwit