Story Warnings: Some violence and strong language. Mentions of deceased OCs.
Disclaimer: If you recognize any names, terms, or concepts it's because they don't belong to me.
CHAPTER 4 - Frenzy
Furuichi sat at his desk in the back of the room, staring idly out the window and twirling a pen between his fingers. He was pretty sure there was a teacher somewhere in the classroom he should have been paying attention to, but he didn't think he'd be able to hear the lesson even if he tried, over the raucous voices of the other delinquents in the classroom. He resolutely not-pouted at the reality of being back in school after the previous weekend.
The whole crew had ended up just wandering around town that day, skipping class, loitering until shopkeepers shook their fists, mocking other students through classroom windows, and overtaking any arcade they came across, while Kunieda did her best to temper their antics. The weekend had passed in a similar way, with he and Oga just goofing off and playing video games part of the time, and walking around bumping into other thugs the rest of the time. It was blessedly normal, and Furuichi couldn't have said how much that familiarity eased his mind. More than perhaps anything else, being able to wander around in nothing more than a light jacket to ward off the early spring chill and left Furuichi feeling giddy and hopeful.
That hope was unfortunately short-lived; despite the reprieve a few days prior, Furuichi was back to nightmare-based insomnia by the time Tuesday rolled around. He grumbled a bit as his gaze dropped from the window. Noon was approaching, and his eyelids were starting to sag – a quick nap before lunch would do him some good, maybe.
Seven around a fire, five wounded, three basically children, all of them thin and starving and full of fury and revenge and nothing else. Lost four in the raid today, lost four precious allies against those pigs, THOSE FILTHY VERMIN, scourge on the land, but if they were the savages then why weren't they the ones scavenging for roots and dying of exposure?
Third Unit wiped out yesterday, Fifth the week before, didn't know about the Sixth, would have to find them later, see how they were faring. Only four more like this one left, it was always a losing game, had been since the Prince fell. But it was fucking worth it, to break the savages, cut the supply lines, raid the villages, ambush the remaining troops. They had won the war, but Fainor and his people would make them regret it. But later. It's time for rest, now. Rest and mourning.
So he sits listens watches sighs. These are boys here, young and feverish with revenge. They weren't at Moesring, they didn't know hopelessness. He's taking advantage. He doesn't care.
There's a commotion, the boys across the fire fall back, stumble, trip – cute little pups, so awkward and stumbly, not so cute when they die, though – and they scream. He starts to turn, he heard nothing, why are they scared? But nope, can't, face in the dirt, weight on the back, needle claws and crushing feet, can't breath, crushed nose, heavy-wet-hot-rancid-dripping breath in his ear.
He hears more than feels the wet elastic snap of a spinal chord as great yellow teeth rip into his flesh.
Furuichi jolted up with a choking sob, stumbled out of his seat where he had fallen into a doze on the desk, and collapsed to the ground, pressed into the corner at the back of the room. He immediately curled, pressing his forehead to his upturned knees, a hand clamped over his mouth the keep in the bile and stomach acid that burned the back of his throat and tingled across his tongue.
And then something else, something immense, was burbling up from his abdomen, and he saw from the corner of his tearing eyes that Nene – she's not a freshman, why was she in here? – had jumped half out of her chair upon seeing him wake. She looked terrified, he thought distantly, eyes wide and lips trembling. Her hand stretched vaguely towards him, red painted nails glaring at him like life-blood.
His shoulders were vibrating, heavy with the force of the entity he tried to contain, but it was no use. What emerged was not sobs or vomit or enraged shrieks, but deep, rasping laughs. He absolutely howled with morbid hysteria, dimly aware of Nene backing away nervously and of the door slamming open as more footsteps and voices rushed in.
He quaked with jerking, keening cries as he relived his first death. It wasn't fucking fair that he should have to experience his life cutting out twice, and then countless times more in his dreams.
"A wolf," he heaved, "It was just a wolf. Not even a pack of the fuckers, just one! Jesus, of everything that could have done me in. Trolls, bears, rogues, the Men's army… Gods, how fucking pathetic is that? Hahaha!" He couldn't contain his hysteria. It was just so fucking ironic. He had faced death countless times, in avalanches and rockslides and training accidents in his youth, the violent early conflicts and battles, the actual war, the guerrilla warfare he'd instigated in the aftermath. But it was nothing more than a single feral beast that had finally taken him out.
"Oi, Furuichi, snap out of it!" He heard the words and smelled the pomade only distantly, and when a hand smacked at his cheek, it offered not a reprieve from the memories, but a reminder of the wretched three days he had once been held by enemy forces before his soldiers had mounted a masterful assault to free him.
Get the fuck AWAYFROMME-
And there was a terrible rush from his outstretched hands, so cold it burned and left him drained and weak. He heard a startled exclamation and opened his eyes to see an utterly silent crowd of thugs surrounding him with a wide berth of several feet. Himekawa was at the forefront, sprawled out on his back, limbs akimbo and glasses askew, where Oga had apparently grabbed the collar of his shirt and hauled him backwards, away from the meter long icicle now imbedded in the floor. A piece of fabric from the senior's flowered shirt had been skewered by the projectile.
They were all silent for a long moment, casting the same horrified gaze at the jagged frozen fang that had nearly punctured Himekawa through the middle. The only sound echoing through the alarmed hush was the senior's loud, panicked breathing.
"You are not okay," Oga said, breaking the silence as he dropped Himekawa's collar, stepping past the senior and the icicle to kneel in front of his friend.
"Oga, I…" Furuichi gasped. It was a different sort of panic settling into his chest, now. Before it had been a mindless, terrified, overwhelmed hysteria. The feeling now clenching at his rapidly beating heart was cold and numb and creeping, a promise of future dread rather than a reminder of the same.
"C'mon, you can't stay here." The dark haired teen gripped his upper arm and lifted Furuichi to his feet, dragging him through the crowd that shifted immediately to let them pass. Furuichi resisted briefly, casting a glance at where Himekawa had yet to rise from the floor.
"Senpai, I'm so, so sorry, I–" He didn't know what he wanted to say, but he was unable to finish regardless, as Oga continued pulling him out of the classroom. He was able to catch a glimpse of Himekawa nodding at him, and felt a rush of relief at the apparent forgiveness.
"What the fuck was that, Furuichi," Oga said, worryingly calm. He had taken them to the nurse's office, for some reason. Furuichi hoped it wasn't in anticipation of making him take a nap again. That had been marginally humiliating.
"It was- it was a really bad one, this time. Found out how I died before, and then it freaked me out when he touched me," he responded quietly, leaning back against the door.
"Yeah, that's pretty fucking obvious. Look, that doctor thinks you'll get better if you make a contract, so make a fucking contract already!" Oga snarled, calm breaking, taking him by the shoulders and shaking him. Furuichi knocked his hands away harshly.
"I know, Oga! You think I like being like this? It was bad enough when it was just me, but now I'm hurting other people with this bullshit too! It's not okay, and I'm not okay, and I don't know what to fucking do!"
"You could stop acting like such a fucking coward, for a start! I know you, dumbass, it's not that you don't think a demon won't make a contract with you, it's that you're scared of asking and finding out it's true and it's pathetic!"
"Well so fucking what if I'm not exactly eager for more confirmation that I'm useless and weak and worthless!"
"Where's this shit coming from, Furuichi? You didn't used to have this fucked up opinion of yourself! Now you're just all 'boo-hoo, I'm a wimpy little shit that can't even wipe my own ass!' Man up, goddamnit!"
"Fuck you, Oga!"
"No, fuck you!"
The argument rapidly devolved from there, with both boys yelling "Fug 'ou!" as loudly as possible from where they were rolling on the ground, pinching and clawing at each other's cheeks and mouths. It ended when Oga accidentally planted his knee in Furuichi's abdomen, knocking the breath out of him and stealing the 'Fuck You!' from his voice.
"Hah, I win!" Oga crowed, shifting to twine his arm around Furuichi's neck in a suffocating chokehold. A swift, brutal pinch to Oga's side had the smaller teen squirming out of his friend's grip and kicking at his ankle petulantly. Oga just snorted and threw a heavy arm back over Furuichi's shoulder, half-dragging him outside.
"C'mon, you can buy me ice cream."
"Buy your own ice cream, moron!" Furuichi yelped as he struggled under his friend's arm. Despite his outward preoccupation, he couldn't help but wonder at how easily Oga had dropped the subject of him getting a demon, especially after this latest breakdown. He had to hand it to his friend, though – a good screaming match had certainly drained him of his panicked energy and calmed his nerves. He tried not to think too deeply on whether Oga had just been trying to provoke a response from him, or if he really thought Furuichi was being a coward.
The next few days passed with an uncomfortable number of nervous looks from the Ishiyama students. They tiptoed around him and kept absolutely, utterly silent whenever he dozed, and the uncharacteristic reservedness frustrated and disheartened him enough that he opted to just skip whenever he was tired, retiring to the nurse's office or the roof to nap. He couldn't help but notice the way thugs tensed when he approached, and relaxed as soon as he had passed. Normally he might have been proud of provoking such a reaction, but knowing their nervousness stemmed from fear of his instability rather than his influence left a sour taste in his mouth.
All of that was nothing, however, compared to the hurt that came from the Saints crew's trepidation. They still spoke to him just as frequently, and still dogged his and Oga's tracks, but yet their eyes lingered on him, and their words were quiet and calm and inoffensive and it was just so brutally obvious that they were trying not to set him off, that the frustration would probably give him a breakdown sooner than anything else.
Three days after his collapse, it was not some terrible memory-dream that wrenched Furuichi from sleep, for once. This time, it was the unmistakable feeling of being watched, of an intruder encroaching on his personal space. Furuichi's eyes shot open, heart pounding, and he tried – and failed – to wrest himself into a sitting position. His blankets had become thoroughly encased in ice again during the night – though less so than before – and as he flailed, trying to free himself, he became entangled in the stiff, cold blanket and tumbled unceremoniously onto the ground, right at the boot-clad feet of the intruder. He glanced up, eyes following the long uniformed body to stare directly into Hecadoth's unamused face.
"What are you doing?" the demon said blankly. Furuichi frowned up at him, still struggling to free himself from the fabric.
"That's my question! What do you think you're doing, watching me sleep?" he grumbled back. "And would you please give me a hand, here?"
Hecadoth snorted long-sufferingly, but complied. He grabbed a corner of the blanket and yanked harshly, sending Furuichi rolling out onto the floor. "Heard you're in the market for a contract. I want in."
Furuichi stared up at him, flabbergasted. "You…you what? How did you even know…?"
"I overheard Laymia's kid telling the doctor. I wanted to get here and stake a claim before any of the other pillars found out. I wasn't watching you," he growled at the end.
"Why do you even care? Or- or the rest of Behemoth's squad? And what do you mean, 'stake a claim?'" Furuichi said, becoming increasingly flustered. He just really, really didn't get it.
Hecadoth just stared at him with a strange look on his face, sort of partway between confused and aghast, Furuichi thought. He watched the expression settle into one he was more familiar with, especially of late, but was no less confused by: it was the expression everyone wore when they thought he was being stupid. And Furuichi was starting to get really fucking sick of seeing it. Hecadoth opened his mouth to respond, but he seemed to freeze suddenly, posture becoming ram-rod straight and eyes darting to stare piercingly out the window.
"There's no time to explain, others have arrived. Quickly, form a contract with me, I will be your primary!" the demon snarled, surging forward and down to kneel in front of Furuichi, gripping his shoulders tightly.
"Wait! Wait, what the hell is going on, here, Hecadoth? I-"
"I'll explain everything later, although I shouldn't need to! Do you want a contract or not?" he broke in loudly. Furuichi had only barely uttered a sound reminiscent of agreement when Hecadoth's jaw clamped shut quite suddenly with a visceral squelch. Furuichi watched, the beginnings of horror touching his mind, as a thick stream of dark blood spilled from Hecadoth's lips. The demon's mouth opened wide and he lurched forward lightning-fast, teeth sinking deeply into the flesh of Furuichi's shoulder right through the cloth of his shirt. It hurt, a ferocious burning radiating rapidly from the wound and spreading through his entire body, setting his veins on fire.
The teen howled, knocked his fists against the demon's chest and shoulders, to no avail. His pain and panic were beginning to cloud his mind with a white haze when he felt a warm tongue lave against the wound, and the sharp, stinging pain withdrew with a cool wave from his limbs and faded to a vague sort of ache in his shoulder. His straining body relaxed with the retreat of the pain, leaving his muscles sore and twitching. Hecadoth backed away slowly, their combined blood spilled onto his chin. His hands still held fast to Furuichi's shoulders, but the grip was no longer bruising, just firm, almost supportive. The demon was staring at him hesitantly, face flushed and pupils dilated. He seemed about to speak when a loud voice broke through the fog of Furuichi's mind.
"Fucking hell, Heca, you could've waited for all of us to get here! You know, so he could choose?" Agiel exclaimed from Furuichi's bed, where she had apparently just burst in through the window. Behind her, two other figures clambered in, knocking elbows and shoving at each other with snarls. Hecadoth snorted.
"Please. Like you wouldn't have taken advantage if you had gotten here first. Same to you two, Graphel and Yata. You were just too slow to get primary."
"Contain your arrogance in front of a superior, General," Yata said blandly, somehow managing to convey incredible disdain through his dead-fish expression. "As the highest rank here, I claim secondary," he stated, stepping down off the bed and moving towards Furuichi in a way that seemed terribly foreboding. Furuichi gasped and tried to shuffle backwards, but was stopped by Hecadoth's brick wall of a body.
"Stop! Just- just back off! What do you want?! Any of you! What the fuck is going on?" he exclaimed. He could feel his breathing start to pick up alarmingly because seriously, why was his room being invaded by fucking strong demons that all apparently wanted something from him?!
Calm down, a voice murmured to him. We did not come to do you harm.
H-Hecadoth…?
Yeah. It's one of the conditions I set in the contract, that we can talk like this, mentally. Before he could ask any more questions, Hecadoth spoke aloud. "Leave him alone for now. He didn't know we would be coming. It's freaking him out. He won't be able to accept more contracts until he calms down."
Stop making it sound like I'm panicking!
You are absolutely panicking.
"The fuck d'you mean, he didn't know? Laymia's brat told everyone that this kid wanted contracts," Graphel growled. Agiel had plopped down brazenly on his bed, legs spread obscenely, and was regarding him bemusedly, while Yata just…stood. Perfectly still, staring at him blankly. It was fucking creepy.
"Let's hold off on explanations until the rest of the pillars arrive," Hecadoth suggested. Agiel grinned.
"Sure. I'm not gonna complain about watching you two cuddle over there. It's fucking adorable," she cackled. Furuichi started, realizing he had never moved away from Hecadoth after trying to run from Yata. He tore himself from the demon's light grip on his hip and scooted back against the wall, where he could keep all four demons easily within sight. Not like it would do any good, really; they could squash him as easily as he could an ant.
He had only just settled back and was about to make a grab for his day clothes when an immense pressure crashed down upon him. He gasped and huddled in on himself and then Hecadoth was there beside him, just sitting, his leg and shoulder brushing Furuichi's. The minimal contact seemed to diminish the terrifying force weighing on him.
That's Jabberwock, came Hecadoth's disembodied voice. You probably couldn't completely feel him before, with the tissue contracts. The power exchange for those was muddied for general use. You won't feel it as much once you contract with him.
The pressure was growing, growing, crushing down on his shoulders. He could hear the footsteps now, steady and even, making their way up his stairs, and there was Jabberwock, massive scarred frame filling the doorway. The demon commander had to duck significantly to keep his head from punching through the ceiling.
"We meet again, kid," the demon commander growled. Furuichi gulped nervously, eyes wide as saucers. He tried to offer some kind of non-threatening yet self-assured gesture, but ended up with a pained grimace badly disguised as a grin contorting his face. Jabberwock stalked closer, his immense body forcing the other demons to hug the walls as he passed. A giant hand shot out disproportionately fast and took hold of Furuichi's collar, dragging him up to his feet. The demon's face surged up before his own, eyes trained on his bloodied shoulder. Jabberwock took a deep sniff and growled, turning on Hecadoth.
"Hecadoth, you little bastard. You're too full of yourself."
"I don't regret it, sir," the smaller demon said, staring his commander dead on, tone ringing with something that was not quite challenge, but very nearly. Jabberwock snorted.
"Nothing for it now, except to kill you, I guess. Good thing you're too useful for that," he grunted. "Come on, we're heading back. You too, kid."
"What? Where? I- I have school in the morning!"
"Bullshit, it's Friday. We're abducting you for the weekend."
"Oh my god," he said faintly. Jabberwock released a bark of coarse, caustic laughter.
"There's no god here, boy."
AN: Hey guys. So you may have noticed a vague hint of HecaxFuru here, and that's because this was one of the first scenes I wrote, before I asked for opinions on whether to make this story romance or gen. I quite liked the scene and opted not to take out those hints, but I promise nothing will come of it in the rest of the story.
Also, don't expect the next chapter for some time - I'm quite swamped with work at the moment.
Anyway, hope you enjoyed, have a nice weekend~