..."Rin? Rin?"

He moaned in annoyance and pulled the blanket over his head. Why did Yukio always have to wake him so early in the morning? It wasn't like he had anything important to do today.

...Did he?

Rin searched his memory. He recalled being dragged through a disgusting, black portal and into a strange, ash-covered world, but he couldn't remember why.

Whatever. It was probably just some crazy dream. He'd been having them a lot lately...

"Rin?" There was Yukio's voice again, impatient as always.

"Ugh, I'm awake." Rin groggily pushed himself upright and rubbed the sleep from one of his eyes. "What do you want, Yuk-" He froze when he realized he wasn't in his bedroom, or anywhere he recognized for that matter. Rin was sitting in the middle of a clearing in a dark forest, his comforter carefully placed over him.

Confused and frightened, Rin pushed the blanket aside and stumbled to his feet. He frantically glanced around for a familiar landmark, but couldn't see anything beyond the dense line of trees. As he wandered around, uncertain of what to do, small flakes of ash began falling from thick, black clouds above him.

"Rin!" He flinched, goosebumps tingling his skin. Yukio was louder now, more desperate.

"Yukio? Over here!" His words sounded raspy and strained, like something dry had lodged itself in his throat. He swallowed hard and tried again, but nothing came out and he immediately lapsed into a violent coughing fit.

"There you are." Rin slowly raised his head, overjoyed to finally meet up with his twin. But, something was wrong.

The person standing in front of him was not his little brother.

Yukio was wearing some kind of long, black trench coat that ended past his knees, a collection of small vials tucked into a long case that seemed attached to a belt, and...a gun in his right hand.

Rin straightened himself and laughed uncomfortably, surprised by this sudden change in appearance. "Wow, Yukio—when did you become such a badass?"

"This isn't funny." He didn't laugh, (he never really laughed at Rin's stupid jokes), and instead stared directly at his brother, turquoise eyes alight with an uncharacteristic rage. "You can't run from me anymore."

"What?" His angry expression put Rin on edge. "W-what are you talking about?"

Yukio raised his pistol and aimed at Rin's head. "I won't let you live your life as a demon. This is for your own good."

Rin tried to back away, but his legs had suddenly grown heavy and he couldn't find the strength to move. "D-demon? Yukio...it's me! Your big brother! I-I'm not a demon! You know that!"

Yukio hesitated and, for a moment, it seemed as though he would change his mind. But that hope was short-lived. "This is all your fault!" he cried, tightening his grip. "If you weren't born a demon, none of this would have happened!"

Just before Yukio pulled the trigger, a brilliant, blue fire engulfed everything around them.

. . .

Rin bolted upright, the intense heat from his dream waking him instantly. He placed a hand to his spinning head and tried to catch his breath, disorientated, frightened, and unable to remember where he was. And then, once he was finally able to relax, it all came rushing back to him. You're a demon, the son of Satan, a monster—how did you expect Yukio to react? You would have done the same.

Demon. Demon. DEMON.

The words whispered in Rin's mind again and again. He couldn't rid himself of them. It felt like they would consume him completely, until the guilt of being born a demon was all that remained of him.

Did… Did Yukio know this? What he truly was?

Of course he did. He was an exorcist—he had to know. But… If what Ammon had said was true and that Yukio was an exorcist because of his dislike for demons…then that meant Father Fujimoto—for whatever reason—told Yukio the truth, but not Rin. Why? And why didn't Yukio come to him about it? They were family—weren't they supposed to protect each other from shit like this?

It dawned on Rin that everyone—his family, his friends—had been deliberately hiding the truth from him for his entire life.

Why? Did they not think he was capable of handling it?

He brought his knees up to his chest and buried his face in his hands. There were so many unanswered questions, so much he didn't understand; it was overwhelming. Maybe a walk to the kitchen and a glass of cool water would help clear his head. He quietly stood and glanced around his room.

The bedroom he had been given was large and slightly more lavish than the other rooms he'd seen on his short tour. There was a nice canopy bed covered with soft, silk sheets, nightstands with small lamps on either side of the bed, a wide lattice door leading to a balcony, a couple of dressers, a big closet, a vanity table, another door that led to a private bathroom, and an empty corner where Wren slept soundly on a hard cot.

Rin's frown deepened when his eyes landed on the dog demon. Wren's room was actually in a small alcove beneath the floorboards, but he didn't want the servant sleeping down there alone, so, to please the prince, he made a spot in the corner instead. He insisted that it was just temporary, and that he would return to his proper bed once Rin was used to his position as king. Since Wren was so adamant about it, Rin decided not to argue—though that didn't stop him from feeling guilty regardless.

Slowly and silently, he left the room, closing the door carefully behind him.

The Obsidian Palace was an entirely different place at this hour. It was dark and quiet and almost peaceful. He briefly wondered if Yukio would like it here…

Thoughtful, Rin wandered aimlessly down the hall, one hand lightly trailing the cold, stone wall. He was unaware the Lord Commander had joined him on his walk until he began to speak. "You know, Rin-"

"AHH!" The prince jumped and pressed himself against the wall, heart thudding violently. "Don't fucking do that!"

Ammon merely smiled. "I normally don't like to force curfew, but I think it would be best if you stayed in your room until you're more familiar with the Palace's interior."

It took Rin a moment to realize that Ammon had changed from his relatively normal civilian clothes to something far more sophisticated. He wore a white collared shirt with metal buttons straight down the front, fitted trousers that looked almost like tights, and black, armored boots that ended just below his knees. The long, white cloak still hung over his left shoulder, (now held in place by a thin piece of armor), and he had a belt for his (strangely empty) scabbard. He wore no gauntlet and his snake familiar was absent.

"We don't want you getting lost, your majesty," he continued, bringing Rin's attention away from his clothes.

"I-I'm not lost!" he said pointedly.

"Oh…then, where are you headed so early in the morning?" he asked, dubious.

"T-to the kitchen for some water."

"Uhh…" His eyes widened slightly. "Why didn't you ask Wren? That's what he's for." Rin opened his mouth to snap a retort, but Ammon quickly silenced him. "Because the kitchen is the other way," he gestured behind them.

An uncomfortably quiet moment passed before Rin was finally able to sputter an excuse. "I-I didn't w-want to wake him…"

"Nonsense!" he said, amused by the flushing prince. "It's his job. WREN!" Rin flinched at the sudden, intense volume of his voice.

A few seconds later, the dog demon came padding up to them. "Y-yes sir?" he breathed, hands on his knees as he huffed.

"Please get Rin a glass of water."

"R-right away!" Wren turned and jogged back down the hall.

"See? Easy. Oh, and don't tell him to 'fetch' things—it's offensive."

"I just… I just don't feel comfortable ordering people around."

"You'll get used to it." He frowned as Rin's expression became sullen and distant. "Rin? Is there something else that's bothering you? You look troubled."

"Huh?" He looked up and then waved his hand dismissively, forcing a smile. "N-no, I'm fine!"

"…If it's about returning to Assiah, don't worry. Nightbringer is working on overtime so she should be ready by tomorrow afternoon if we don't have any interruptions."

That was great news, but it didn't make him feel any better. "Okay…"

"Do you want to talk about it?" Rin started, surprised that Ammon sounded so concerned. Why was he constantly switching between asshole and friend? Did he legitimately care?

Rin scoffed audibly at the thought, and then felt embarrassed when Ammon raised a brow questioningly. "Actually…can we talk about something else?"

"Fair enough. But, can I say one thing?"

It was a struggle to keep from rolling his eyes. "Fine—what?"

"Stop feeling sorry for yourself for being born a demon."

Rin was stupefied. "H-how did you…?"

Ammon grinned. "You think you're the first to despise being a demon?" The prince lowered his gaze. "The difference here is that guilt has no place being king. You need to understand that, no matter how bad things get, they would be worse without a demon like you here."

"Was that supposed to make me feel better?" he asked flatly.

"No—it was supposed to make you feel confident." He paused, his happy smile and tone returning. "Anyway, you can change into your uniform now since you're already up."

Rin's brow knitted in disapproval. "U-uniform?"

"Of course! I'm not going to let you meet the Order wearing that!"

He looked down at himself, realizing he was still wearing the suit for his interview. The sleeves were a little tattered, but otherwise it looked fine—in fact, it was the nicest thing he'd ever worn in his life. "What's wrong with it?"

Ammon was offended by that. "Everything! You look like a child wearing daddy's suit!"

"Uhh, well, actually…" Rin hesitated and nervously scratched the side of his face. "I did borrow this from the old man…"

"My point exactly. But, don't worry." Ammon leaned forward slightly, his grin melting into something sinister. "When I'm done with you, you're going to make Lord Satan's reign look like child's play.

Rin gulped. He didn't like the sound of that.

. . .

Astaroth wasn't fond of the name 'Reiji Shiratori', but, as always, Ammon had his preferred method of discretion that everyone was expected to follow. Why he, the king of rot, so readily obeyed orders from someone so much lower on the hierarchy than him, (and a carrier of Amaimon's putrid genes no less), he would never know. Still, it felt better to have some sort of direction instead of aimlessly trying to work things out on his own.

Regardless of his opinion on the matter, Astaroth arrived promptly at True Cross Academy that morning, prepared to face whatever hell awaited him beyond those gaudy gates.

As much as he enjoyed looking at the Academy's main entrance, he couldn't use it. Astaroth's presence at the school had to be kept a secret from Mephisto, and so he was forced to sneak in through a small break in the exorcists' barrier off to the side of the road. He received a few odd stares from the students as he picked foliage out of his hair while he waited in line, but, other than that, his stealthy arrival had gone widely unnoticed.

After signing his name on the school's roster, (as Reiji Shiratori no less), and sitting through an exceptionally dull orientation ceremony, Astaroth followed the flow of male students to the dormitory. Despite his obvious dislike for humans, he was pleasantly surprised by how comfortably he felt here, (though that might have been because his host was a rather 'outgoing' person in his short life.) Knowing that this opportunity wouldn't last, he lingered behind and carefully observed his classmates, quickly trying to memorize their human behavior.

Most were idly talking to their friends—laughing and smiling and being the loud, irritating little shits they were. Some of them teased each other, while busier students hurried past with their heads down.

It was unsettling how closely human behavior resembled that of demons…or was it the other way around? Who could say?

Satisfied with his sightseeing, Astaroth climbed the large staircase to the third door was labeled with gilded numbers and the names of two students, organized alphabetically by family name, he noticed. Astaroth found his door halfway down the hall—Shima, Renzou and Shiratori, Reiji. He hesitated for a moment, desperately hoping that Shima, Renzou was a quiet, friendly person who understood the concept of personal space. So long as this new human companion wasn't the overly observant type, Astaroth was confident he would have no issues blending in to the community.

If only he knew how wrong he was...

"Hey, roommate!" An obnoxious, pink-haired boy instantly greeted him as he opened the door. "You're Shiratori, right? I'm Shima! Nice to meet ya!" He stuck out his hand in the form of a greeting.

Astaroth was baffled, (and disgusted), by his saccharine demeanor. "Uhh...yeah, hi." He turned his nose up at the boy's outstretched arm and kept his hands firmly at his sides.

Shima rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "Sooo, come on in." Behind him, Astaroth noticed a well-built human glaring viciously at him from the desk at the back of the room. "Oh, this is my friend Suguro," Shima quickly explained. "He's helping me unpack."

The taller boy nodded in acknowledgment. "Hey." Suguro's tone was surprisingly cordial compared to his terrifying appearance.

Without a word, Astaroth cautiously entered the room and quickly picked his way through the mess to the other bed, where a large box from Ammon sat waiting for him. There wasn't much in it—mostly inconspicuous human trinkets, clothes, required reading for cram school...and an unnecessarily massive amount of colorful flowers, (apparently a joke from his oh-so-mature Lord Commander.) It didn't take long until he had everything neatly set up on his desk under the window.

As Astaroth turned back to figure out what to do with the mess of flora, he noticed the human with the dyed fohawk was staring, watching him closely with a knowing, dangerous expression. He froze, skin prickling with horror.

He doesn't know. No way—he can't.

"Studying to be an exorcist?"

Astaroth let out a relieved sigh and relaxed instantly, all the weight of paranoia leaving him. "Is it that obvious?"

"Nah," Shima chimed in, holding up an exact copy of one of the books Astaroth had just unpacked. "Us too."

"Oh..."

Oh.

Oh no.

This was bad. This was so so bad.

"H-hey, are you alright? You don't look so good."

. . .

Ammon led Rin and Wren down the hall to what appeared to be a tailor's room. There was an old, dusty dressform in the middle, two different types of sewing machines atop long tables in the back, and various scraps of fabric strewn about everywhere. It looked worse than Rin's room back home.

"Sorry it's a mess," Ammon said, sweeping aside a pile of fabric and thread as he did. "I was in a hurry so I didn't have time to clean up."

"You can sew?"

He gave Rin a bemused look and shrugged a shoulder. "Undine is much better at it than me, but she was busy with other things and I didn't want to bother her." He picked his way over to the wardrobe and pulled out a white uniform similar to the one he wore. "Here!" He handed the hanger over to Rin. "You and I are about the same size, so I based it off my measurements. You can change behind that screen," he pointed to a changing screen in the far corner.

Rin sighed loudly and dejectedly as he accepted the hanger, letting some of his frustration slip out. It looked more like a military uniform than anything and was completely white, just like Ammon's. "Why white? Won't it get dirty?"

"Yes, it will." His answer only made Rin raise a brow. "We wear white to separate ourselves from common demons. Demons are fearful creatures that spend most of their lives hiding in shadows. As you can imagine, bright colors, (white especially), don't help you blend in to the dark well. With white, we can be seen from a distance through the ash and simultaneously let everyone know that we will not hide from our responsibilities. Also, exorcists are known for their black uniforms, and white is the opposite of black." Ammon glanced over to Wren as he made himself busy by picking up discarded pieces of fabric. "Our white uniforms have given us the nickname 'Angels'. With these clothes, we are no longer merely soldiers, but people who bring hope to the downtrodden."

"…I guess that makes sense." Rin stepped behind the screen and began to change. While he waited, Ammon helped Wren with tidying the room.

The pants were seamless and slightly fitted, hugging his knees while still allowing him ample room to move freely. There was a thin undershirt, but it was obscured by the heavy, double breasted jacket he wore over it. The jacket was the main attraction: it had a stiff, upright collar, military-styled shoulder fittings, large, intricately carved metal buttons, straight sleeves, and a striking belt for a sword. The hem of his jacket ended at his hips. Tight, leather boots completed the outfit.

Rin stepped back into the room and looked at himself in the nearby mirror. He rotated his shoulders and stretched his arms. The entire outfit was uncomfortable—it felt like he had to stand straighter, like he had to match his movements to his clothes.

"Wow," Wren smiled excitedly at him, "you look like a completely different person!" He lowered his gaze submissively when Rin turned his attention to him. "I-I mean…y-your majesty."

"It's uncomfortable!" He pulled down the hem of his jacket and glared at it disapprovingly.

"Good." Ammon nodded smoothly. "Being a king isn't supposed to be a comfortable job." He held out a thin sword in a blue sheathe. "Here, put this in your belt—it will make you look more powerful." Rin instantly recognized it and reached out for it, but the Lord Commander snatched it back as he did. "That's not an incentive to start making fun of me, by the way."

"Yeah, whatever." He rolled his eyes and slipped his katana through the available loop on his belt. "Where did you get this?"

"Astaroth said you had it with you when he found you."

"I thought I left it back in Assiah." Rin smiled brightly—now he would always have a piece of Father Fujimoto with him.

Ammon stepped back beside Wren and tilted his head from side to side, looking contemplative. "Hmm…I'd rather the new king of Gehenna carry around something a little more intimidating than a toothpick… What do you think, Wren?"

The dog perked up. "I think he looks fantastic!"

He smiled. "I trust Wren's sense of fashion far more than my own, so it's settled! From now on, (or until you leave Gehenna), you will wear nothing but this uniform. Wren," he turned, "have six more of these commissioned by the end of the week."

"Yes sir!"

Rin felt himself deflate at the thought of wearing something so uncomfortable and so…unlike him for more than a few hours. The suit was one thing, but this…ugh. "Please, please tell me you're joking. I have to wear this shit all day?"

"And at night if you have business to attend to after dark," Ammon answered dryly. "Being a leader is more than just sitting on your ass all day."

He sighed stiffly. "I don't want to be king!"

"And I don't want to be Lord Commander, but, sometimes we have to do things we don't want to do and become things we'd rather not be."

Rin was becoming increasingly frustrated by Ammon's belligerent attitude. "So you honestly think someone like me can become king just by putting on a fancy outfit?"

Ammon hardened his gaze. "Rin, what do you think makes a good leader?"

"I don't know," he shrugged. "Money and power?"

"Confidence and trust." Rin's frown deepened, but he was nevertheless baffled by his response. "A good king is someone who is confident in their decisions, and who can accept responsibility when he fails. A good king is someone who is trusted by his people, and who is deserving of that trust." He paused and waved a hand. "But, we'll worry about that later. Right now, we have an important meeting to attend. Your cape should be ready afterward. Let's go, Wren."

Good answer... Rin quietly nodded in acknowledgment and followed the two out the door.