title: ageless
genre: romance / hurt / comfort / horror
pairings: shiemi/amaimon, rin/bon
warnings: domestics, cuties, i'm on desk five more hours, i'm watching movies
"This is a story about the
monsters and the lovers,
This is a story about how
they became the same thing."
—Emily Palermo, Love in the Time of Monsters
chapter o3: in which the stage is set
Shiemi is, and has always been, a creature of habit.
Most days, she wakes before the sun, a begrudging habit from her school days carried over to her days as an exorcist carried over into her early retirement. She slinks out of her warm nest of bedsheets and limbs and stretches to the sun, reaching fingers and toes and twisting the sweet lull of sleep from her bones. She dresses quickly, careful not to wake her husband, before she sneaks downstairs and onto the back patio and into the misty morning. Her bare feet curling at the blades of cool grass.
The sunlight comes up over the peak of the hills and bathes her shadowed garden in golden light.
Truly, a sight to behold.
Then, there is her rounds she makes, a strict routine of clearing, snipping, checking, and marking. Her garden is the family business, and handled with the tenderest care.
But, since the winter came and, subsequently, her letter from True Cross of impending employment, her usual bustle of activity to get the day going has dulled some. She feels lethargic during the winter months and puts faith in Amaimon's spells over heading out into the frozen morning shoeless.
She sticks to her greenhouse, an annexed piece of their home, a tiny kingdom of wavy frosted windows and long wooden tables and metal hooks dripping with curling vines. Every surface positively blooming with flora and fauna.
Today, however, is different.
As today is her first day of school for student orientation.
As such, her usual monotonous routine is thrown into an absolute riot.
"Wha—wha—what? Why didn't you wake me!?" She tumbles unceremoniously out of bed. The fear of the time clock staring her down. Her anxiety spikes dangerously, leaving her shaking in the wake of her eminent count down. On her way to the closet, she metamorphs into a creature of elbows and knees, sheets tangling with her legs as they untuck from the bed.
Amaimon hums from the doorway, nonchalant and innocent with his mug. "I've made tea," he says in response, lifting her favorite mug into view. Shiemi nearly brains herself on the doorframe.
"Darling!" She exclaims, exasperated.
"You looked so peaceful." Amaimon says in response, sagely as a monk.
Shiemi's eyes scan her side of the closet, looking for the outfit she thought up last night. She could have sworn she laid it out on the dresser. "I have to meet Mephisto for a faculty meeting in thirty minutes!" She exclaims and pens the top drawer for socks and then shuts it, realizing she doesn't need them. Then opens it again for stockings.
No time for the pretty kimono she prepared. She feels nervous and sick all over again. She had spent the precious weeks, before the beginning of the new term carefully scheduling and planning out the new semester, but with such a start, it felt like an omen.
"Tell him you're sick."
Shiemi tucks her head around the doorframe, meeting Amaimon with a steady look.
"I'm fine. I'm perfectly healthy, and I—" The sound of her leaving alarm goes off and she screams. "I'm going to be so late!"
On rare days, days likes these which will soon become most days, Shiemi likes to plan ahead. She likes to plan where she will be, how she will get there, and how long she will take to reach her destination. She normally would toy with her plan, stretch it like a rubber band, making time for breakfast and a tea, a quick turn about the garden, or an extra few minutes to wish Amaimon a good day without her.
Planning takes the anxiety out of the event, she finds.
She stumbles out of the closet, one button in another's hole, her silky raspberry blouse half-tucked into her skirt.
Amaimon keeps his post at the doorframe leading to the hall and everything else she needs. He offers her the mug again, like he tried to do five minutes ago, and she takes it, sips, and hands it back. It's watery, not seeped nearly as long as she does, but potent in flavor. Chamomile, rosemary, and honey thick and sweet. "For your throat," he says quietly, "you looked cold."
That gives her pause. "Thank you, honey."
She continues her progress into the bathroom, flicking on the light, she startles a moment to see Amaimon's reflection in the mirror behind her.
Amaimon watches her, a look of perfect puzzlement on his face. Since she received Mephisto initial letter, he had been staring at her with increased intensity, as if her illness might start again in earnest, but Shiemi has been optimistic, as had her doctor, and did her best to soothe Amaimon's concerns.
"I'll call if anything happens." She assures, fastening one earring and then the other. At least those are where she left them. She quickly brushes her teeth and takes extra care not to get toothpaste on her nice blouse.
"Something always happens at that place." Amaimon says and she ducks in the mirror, missing his strained expression. Shiemi can feel the steady build of his anxiety, the conversations they have hashed out in the past months between preparations, doctors' visits, and long afternoons of paperwork. "Shiemi."
"Everything will be fine, darling, don't worry." She soothes and gets her hands in her hair. A braid might be too much. Perhaps a ponytail? She begins to twist and roll and smooth, her fingers reaching and straining to gather up her hair. It grew as thick and tawny as a pelt after her last bout of chemo. Beautiful, gold, silken locks.
When she woke to use the bathroom in the middle of the night, she would often find herself startled by her face in the mirror. Sleep-drunk, her face, her moon-pale face, surrounded by all that pale hair, she looked ghostly.
She shifts her attention to her face now, and yawns.
No time for breakfast.
She turns and nearly runs into Amaimon again, his proximity at once startling and then sinking into vague annoyance. "Amaimon," She says slowly, afraid of having another conversation while she is trying to run out the door. "Amaimon, I'm late—"
She never says anything more as he gathers her into his arms and crushes her in an embrace. Its short, quick, but the crush of his body against hers lingers in the press of her clothes. When he steps away, he looks at her and his expression is pitiful.
He looks like a lost child, an orphan, marooned and alone without a soul in the world.
It breaks her heart and, for a moment, the barest sliver of a second, she considers calling Mephisto and saying—
Amaimon hands her their Infinity Key, the one with a direct line to True Cross, the one she kept in a drawer in her office. "Have a good day," he says, without much cheer.
"Guten morgen, my dear sister-in-law! You look—" Mephisto's cheery greeting is cut short when he gets a good look at her: rumpled, sweaty, falling out of what is True Cross's formal door and is their supply closet. The clatter of one terracotta pot nearly sends her reeling. "—well, at least you slept well."
She hadn't.
Her cheeks fill with color as she struggles to get the key out of the door. She is not worried about Amaimon following her in some last-ditch effort to make her quit, but she is very sure the hobgoblins in the attic would love to visit. "—Pheles-san! I am so sorry, I, I had a bit of a rough start this morning. I hope you can forgive me, I—" Distantly, she can hear the pig-squealing noises of the pack on the move.
Mephisto, with the patience of a saint, takes pity on her and leans down to twist her key, guiding her from the door as the portal closed behind her and then snapping it shut firmly. "Nonsense, you're family. We all make exceptions for family."
Shiemi smiles sheepishly, unsure if she should be offended or—
Mephisto smiles, fangs gleaming. "Now, I cannot have you meeting the rest of faculty in such a state! Allow me," Before she can comment, Mephisto snaps his fingers—eins, zwei, drei—and her outfit is smooth, cool, and mature. Her hair is tamed into a silken bun. The scent of flowers drifts to her nose.
Mephisto often fancies himself her Fairy Godfather.
"Thank you," she bows and Mephisto bows in kind, then he offers her his arm. "I looked horrid, didn't I?"
"Nonsense!" He waves away her comment as if it were an errant fly. "You, my dear sister, don't look a day over twenty." Then he laughs, sharply, loudly as if the noise was startled out of him and once it let spilled from his lips, it was as mighty as a waterfall.
"—but the staff is really nice! We all went out for lunch after the meeting. I need to be on campus tomorrow to help with student move-ins, but then the cram school should meet later in the day." She carries on, topping off the hot chocolates with sprinkles of organic chocolate and cinnamon.
The hobgoblins are in the kitchen are squealing beyond the island, territories being drawn over their dinner bowls. "There's plenty for everybody!" She calls and the squealing cuts off and they are polite creatures again.
"You shouldn't coddle them so!" Amaimon calls from the back patio. She left the door propped open so she could carry the drinks out.
"I'm not!" She calls back, lifting the tray as she begins her maneuver out the door, stepping over straps and glances back affectionately at her little monsters. "They're my babies! They deserved to be spoiled a little!"
Amaimon is silent. She hits the door with her elbow and it snaps shut before any of her babies can get free and trample the healing bed gardenias they trampled earlier. Once she's on the patio, she sees the cause of Amaimon's silence.
It is one of the beautiful blue evenings in April, a little chilly, but not as wet as the season has been so far. Their firepit is set up with two wicker chairs and blankets, an assort of fireside treats at the ready.
Amaimon is standing at the edge of the patio, his hand extended to the sky, a black shape morphing into the bare flesh of his arm. If Shiemi had been new to this, she may have been terrified at seeing her husband absorb a shadow creature into his body, but since she has been married for so many years, and an exorcist for longer, she knows a messenger when she sees one.
"Everything alright?" She asks, setting the hot chocolates on the low table.
Amaimon's eyes are closed for a long moment and then they open. Without a word, he drifts back to the chairs and sinks low like the cushions might swallow him up. Elbows on the armrests, nails tapering down to points. She frowns.
"I have to go to visit a friend." There is a far-off quality to his voice, as if he were still wrapped up in the message.
"Oh," She sinks to the chair beside his, her hands folded on the arm so she could lean over to him. "Something wrong?" She prompts and regrets it when she sees the expression on his face.
Amaimon looks wearily out to the forest surrounding their garden where the trees beyond grow dark and deep, gnarled roots gladly rising up to trip, branches hanging low enough to swoop intruders off of their feet. A fortress against the world outside.
Shiemi wonders if he knows his teeth show when he is not paying attention, as if bared against some yet unseen threat.
"Humans have disgraced her forest," he murmurs, quick and low under his breath. He ducks his head, nails tapping. "She calls for aid."
"What have they done?" she asks, quietly.
"The usual things they do. They're tearing at her trees, uprooting nests," He shivers as if the very thought and Shiemi feels it in kind. "I will go to her tomorrow night. She is in anguish over her forest."
Shiemi bites her lip. "Do you think she will turn violent?"
Amaimon stills beside her. The line of his body becoming a composition of firm lines and hard edges. His nails tap harder.
"What will you do," he asks quietly, not looking at her, "if she becomes violent?"
And that's a question, a loaded one. Shiemi can feel her teeth on her cheek, but she can't let up. What will she do indeed? As an exorcist, even a semi-retired one, she has vows to keep, regulations to uphold. True Cross has given her everything she has ever known in life. Her childhood home, her family's relative comfort, her education, her career, and, when she was sick, the ability to pay for it all.
She is not stupid; she's an asset. Even before her marriage to Amaimon, she was a well-known contract Tamer and Herbologist with an affinity for all manner of greenery. If there was anything her mother ever taught her, it is to not bite the hand that feeds.
All debts to True Cross must be paid in full.
And she has been, little by little, by helping with cases and raising chuchi and gollums and hobgoblins, training them from their nature, making them docile, creating the only arguments her and her husband have ever had.
And now—this. Her role as his wife, a demon king's mortal wife, with no sway over the decisions he makes in his realm, but a strong history of giving advice.
Shiemi knows what people say, but despite her clothes, she is not as traditional as some. She wore white on her wedding day and a tsunokakushi to their ceremony, much to Amaimon's amusement. She was humbled before her friends and family, married to someone she loved dearly. But, she was not subservient to him. She does not toil away in their little magical house, paying the bills, cooking the meals, running the place.
She is not subservient. She just chooses her business carefully, for her sake and his.
"I just don't want this to get out of hand." She says, selecting a candied strawberry from one of the snack bowls. "I am sure if we ask Mephisto or Yuki, they can have someone—"
Amaimon's shoulders tighten. Shiemi watches his hands clamp tight over the arms the chair, nails curling. There is something slow and steady fanning a flame inside him when he turns to her and says, "And if they go somewhere else? Destroy another forest? Do you think that Cuckcoo or the half-breed will care?"
She stares at him. The candied strawberry sticking to her fingertips. Normally, Amaimon refrains from insulting Yuki in her presence. As, brotherly connections be damned, he has always seen Rin as the more obvious relation. Whereas Yuki's talents were a bit lackluster for his taste.
Her expression must portray her displeasure because Amaimon winces. "Sorry," he mutters, half-hearted, low. She frowns deeper. "Sorry."
His eyes cut from her to the shadows created by the fire. His expression is pensive again, jaw tight, lips peaking.
She pops the candy in her mouth, letting the sugary coating melt on her tongue before she bites into the strawberry. It's tart, not from her garden, but good all the same. Amaimon had insisted on junk food for their romantic fireside date. She had insisted on a healthy dinner of rosemary and goat cheese sandwiches with tomato basil soup and stem salad.
They compromised like that. Give and take, as the saying goes. Helping one another where the other is weakest and, for her husband, that is emotions.
"Tell me what's on your mind." She says and feels like a command as she is saying it, but she needs answers. "I can't help you if you don't tell me." She sucks on her thumb and prepares to wait.
He is silent for several seconds, taking deep even breaths, staring into the fire. Then, as Shiemi is reaching for another strawberry, he extends his hand. His claw shrinking back to smooth, rounded black nails. It is an open invitation to him, and she takes it. She slips her fingers into his and allows herself to be tugged into his lap, settling with her back to his chest.
She tips back against his shoulder, her ear at his throat so she can feel him.
"What is it about this forest that has you so distraught?"
His voice hums against her ear. "It's not just this forest."
"What is it then?"
"That's how forest gods die," he says, stroking a hand through her long hair. "Their lands are taken and they are driven out. Without their land, they have no power. Without power, they cannot defend themselves. Without the ability to defend themselves, they are eaten up by more powerful kin. Sucked out like marrow from a bone. And then the cycle repeats."
Amaimon is not the sort to have his voice betray what he is feeling. She learned that early. Amaimon's tell has always been his hands, nervous twisting, toying, picking. She can feel the gentle combing of his fingers through her hair, the slide of his fingers almost insistent.
She curls her fingers with his and kisses his hand. They are chilly, clammy with fear and she gives, just a little.
"Go to her," she says finally. "Go to her. Settle the matter. I will say nothing. I promise."
As if it is as easy as that.
The first day of the new cram school class is a strange one. Shiemi watches her coworker give a brief breakdown of the semester, but then asks the golden question that segues into her lesson. "Now, who here has not yet had their temptaint?" A considerable amount of hands raise in response.
Not surprising, most students this year don't come from exorcist families. They are all "fresh blood" as Mephisto says.
"Well, Moriyama-san would you like to take over from here? This is your area of expertise."
She can feel herself beaming and tries to hide it.
She rises from her chair as slowly as she can with her briefcase and smoothing the skirt of her kimono, a beautiful piece patterned with roses and lace, and walks to the front of the room. "This is Moriyama Shiemi, she will be your Taming professor."
"I look forward to working with all of you," She scans the row of students, seven, what a lucky number, and smiles. "I am sure we can all learn from one another."
She gives what she feels is the best explanation for temptaint, their vague histories and unusual uses, however, she is sure to keep it short and sweet. "However, I will be summoning a creature you will all be able to see, as it is as common in the everyday world as it is in ours."
Withdrawing a slip of paper, she plans on showing it as a reference—maybe a quick teaser for her class later—but as soon as she sees the seal and her thumb presses down, something happens, the paper shifts.
Then, in a puff of smoke, one of her chuchi from home appears before her—tiny, fuzzy, and delicate. She snatches it quickly in her cupped hands. Flushed. The chuchi buzzes madly, bewildered, tiny wings beating, legs scratching. Shiemi feels her heart jump into her throat. "So, um, any questions before we get started?"
The cadence in her voice goes highly ignored as awe fills the room. Most of it is praises. The rest, however, is skepticism.
"—did you just summon without blood?"
The chuchi's furious wings on her palms feels like the pulse of her heart.
Did she?
God, did she?
If she were bleeding right now, the chuchi might jump into a frenzy. She had wanted a hobgoblin, one of her babies with filed claws and curious eyes, a cute little bugger that looks like a cat to some and a pig to others.
How had she done that?
"My," Her new coworker adjusts his glasses, impressed. "President Pheles did sing your praises at the faculty meeting. I always heard that you were a talented Tamer, Moriyama-san, but I did not know the extent of your abilities."
Her nerves choke up in her throat.
"Don't be silly! Flutters here is from my own garden. He must have come with me today." She laughs it off and lifts her cupped hands to her mouth to whisper, "Settle down, boy."
The chuchi, reluctantly obeys and lays still in her hands as she turns over her palm. His lacy white wings with their violet webbed veins displaying the traits he was bred for. A beauty, obviously, but a breed known for their silk and larvae. Her coworker gasps again.
"My, my, that is a mighty fine job. Children, this is a wonderful learning experience." He makes a gathering gesture and the students, reluctant parallels of the chuchi, do as they are bid, but keep a firm distance. "You see this? Miss Moriyama has been taming lower and mid-level demons for years for True Cross. Is this one of the specimens you received?"
She tries not to flinch at his tone, but she does.
"No, Flutters comes from the third generation of chuchi I have raised." She says, running a soothing finger across the demon moth's back.
She can feel him buzzing with life, his tiny little belly grumbling despite the feeding she gave the swarm last night. She thinks back to a few seconds before, with Flutters appearing out of nowhere, and takes a deep breath. No time to dwell. She will have to use him instead.
She fixes the best smile she can and looks up at her students. "Well, best to get this out of the way then."
The students inch closer and, as expected, Flutters reacts.
She holds the chuchi by his thorax, the soft peach-fuzz of its body positively vibrating against her fingers. She knows chuchi. She knows their nature. She knows that however many hours she spends training or taming that that they would remain as they always had been—vicious little bloodsuckers.
Flutters' silken wings beat harder in effort to get free, but she has a practiced grip, delicate but strong.
One girl in the group lurches back, eyes widening behind her glass, lips curling. "What the holy hell is that?"
Shiemi frowns, puzzled. "It's a chuchi. In order to give you your temptaint, we must have your blood drawn by a demon. These are ones I raised in my garden. They are quite harmless—" However, her explanation sparks another student, a boy, to cower behind the girl.
She recognizes him immediately from the roster—a Shima, the first since Renzo.
"A ch-chuchi? A swarm of those things can suck the blood out of a cow in under a minute!"
". . . I raise my chuchi on goat blood. It's much easier to," she trails off and decides that might be a better lesson for later. "Nevermind, regardless. Chuchi are low level demons. They will not harm you so long as I am here."
Of the seven, only five of them need temptaints. The Shima boy presents his arm and looks away, but otherwise seems oddly put-upon afterwards, claiming he wasn't scared at all, though Shiemi felt the clammy rush of his skin. She smiles warmly regardless and then turns her attention to the girl from before.
She is pale as a lily when Shiemi turns to her.
"Oh no, honey, it's fine. Here, Flutters won't hurt you." She gestures for the girl to give her hand, but she shakes her head. "Here, it's just a little bite and you're good to go."
The girl shakes her head. "Isn't there another way?"
Shiemi frowns, patiently, gently. "I'm afraid not, hon." She waits and the girl slowly extends her arm, the unmarred dark skin looking like a slender offering. Shiemi lowers the chuchi and her demon moth does his job and bites down.
Afterwards, when her coworker slips out, she makes a show of summoning Nii-chan, something that to her feels as natural as breathing, after so many years of working together. Nii-chan appears at the beckon of her blood, like normal, bringing with him his three sisters to help heal the cuts and bites.
"Not all summoning is for fighting." She continues, gently as the greenmen settle around the room. "Being a Tamer is a partnership between you and the demon you summon. It is a level of respect and working together that allows for Tamers to make contracts with higher ranking demons."
A student raises his hand. "What are the usual terms of these contracts?"
"Well, in the way of law, you must give something to get something. You make a connection with your summons by pressing down with your own blood," She lifts the paper, feeling the terrible irony as she pinches the edges of the paper. "And keeping this paper intact. If it is ripped or torn during battle, your summons will return to their homes."
Another student raises their hand. "So, like, after that they do whatever you say?"
"No, its—"
"Do I have to make a deal with demons?"
Shiemi waits for silence as the usual barrage of questions pour in. Does the contract mean she can control demons? Does raising demons make them more docile? How many demons can I summon? If my demon attacks me? Do I exorcise it?
Then again, she thought she knew everything about summoning.
It takes some time, but soon her silence is earned. Nii-chan returns to her, bounding into the palm of her hand and crying out in that cheerful way of his. It makes her smile.
"I have had a contract with Nii-chan for many years now. He has been my ally in battle and my friend in need. He can be the tiniest force," She reaches inside herself, chipping off a piece of energy all for Nii-chan. He gladly takes it expands in size, taller than her, taller than their coworker, taller than the lowest point in the high ceiling. "And rival to a mountain."
Her students clamor back, shocked, grabbing backs of chairs and bags, one of them even has prayer beads out. Nii-chan's sisters throw up armfuls of flowers, peels of excited laughter cheering their brother on.
Then, Nii-chan shrinks back, cheery as can be, into the palm of her hand.
"It is all dependent on a Tamer's power." She says and releases them, back to the house, back to the garden for milk and honey. She looks out at her class. "Remember this, Taming is a partnership. Not a slave contract. You do not demand what you cannot give back."
The severity of her statement seems to carry like a weight over the entire class. The smell of blood and fear in the room settling to shame. It is not until she gets a look at the clock in the back of the room, that she realizes the loss of time.
"Ah, well, I guess that will be all for today then. Please remember to read the first chapter and we will discuss tomorrow. Also, remember that you will begin physical training soon and to bring a change of clothes." The students rise and bow in unison, thanking her for the lesson, before filing out. Some prod at tender leaf bandages, others smile at her as they slip through the door.
Shiemi leans back against the desk as the last of them disappear and sighs, audibly.
"Scaring the kids, Moriyama?"
It takes her a second, but soon she finds the tall, statuesque figure in the back of the classroom, half-hidden behind the second door. Izumo. She jumps to her feet. "Izumo-chan! I didn't know you were working here too!"
She cannot quite tell, but she thinks she catches the edges of a smile on Izumo's face. Shiemi makes her way up the aisle to embrace her. She hasn't seen Izumo in so long, not since she was sick.
Her old friend walks to meet her, strutting in with her usual proud stroll, hip-checking the door on her way. Her hair is nearly down to her knees now, still in the familiar style of the women in her family. She looks official in her True Cross black coat. "When did you get a job here? Why didn't you tell me?"
"I didn't!" Izumo says, snappily. "I just heard through the grapevine that you were out of hiding and I—" Izumo trails off as she draws closer, her gait slowing to a halt.
Shiemi embraces her, arms cradling around the familiar body, and she feels Izumo reciprocate, out of muscle-memory or maybe surprise. Shiemi carries on, oblivious. "I haven't seen you since we were station in Harajuku!" She steps back, cupping Izumo's elbows in her palms. "We need to catch up! Tell me everything!"
"Shiemi, you—" Izumo murmurs, eyes rounding before her expression pulls taut. Shiemi begins to pull away, planning on grabbing her bag and class schedule, but her old friend then seizes her shoulders and studies her very intently, eyes squinting. Shiemi leans back in her grasp, confused.
"I-Izumo-chan? What—what are you doing?"
"Shiemi," Izumo stares at her, brows drawing together. "Shiemi, you haven't aged a day."
duh-duh-DUH.
EDITS: so much grammar stuff and i switched up izumo's intro. also, I created a plot hole then fixed it. So now it is mid-April, the beginning of the Japanese school year. Also, Amaimon gave Shiemi a pet-name and I didn't think it fit very well. So that's gone.
i think i have a proper plot line set for this baby. also, i've been re-reading the books for reference and i feel ashamed to say my original Shiemi wasn't as gutsy. Amaimon wasn't as angsty either, but you all seem to like it. or, i think you do. i see people liking and following, and i don't just write for reviews, but i do like to know what people think.
regardless, i love writing this. it's a good stress-relief and it makes me happy. and i'm really proud of this chapter. so, i'm still on nightshifts, so i'll probs be stalking this fics progress all night. so, drop a like, a kudos, if you have a sentence or phrase or scene you liked, lettme know! ideas for the fic? lettme see! like this characterization? tell me! hat this charactization? i have more shiemi/amaimon fics saved under my favorites on my page.
have a good night!
- cafeanna