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 7 - Respite
Furuichi's return to the human realm later that evening was heralded by a vague distortion in an alley three blocks down from his house and a hooting call from Agiel to drop by again soon. Besides her, only Laymia and Hecadoth had bothered to see him off he passed through a disturbingly Lovecraftian portal in the second basement level of Pillar Headquarters.
Furuichi was beyond glad to step back into the human world. His body ached from the ridiculous – and largely unsuccessful – training sessions the (his?) demons had put him through, and his final conversation with Laymia was still roiling around in his head, poisoning his thoughts and keeping him from peace. It vaguely reminded him of the disgusting muck he'd been dragged through on the floor of the cafeteria – a clingy morass of corruption that couldn't be cleansed or ignored.
Give me a week to decide, my ass, he berated himself. More like give me a week to make my final arrangements, because offing myself would be easier than deciding!
Furuichi kicked an empty soda bottle on the sidewalk in from of him and was unreasonably frustrated when it didn't fly as far as he wanted it to. He was tempted to go after it, but knew from attending a delinquent high school that that sort of escalation – against a soda bottle! he thought, a touch hysterically – was a very slippery slope.
Furuichi forced himself to drop it, gave himself a shake and pressed on, feeling his hostility diminish as he stepped further from the portal to Hell. The air smelled different here, he thought, taking a deep breath. Staring up a familiar sky, Laymia's offer finally began to slip from the forefront of his thoughts. Problems that had seemed so monumental when surrounded by the Pillar Squad Headquarters' characteristic cold stone walls seemed much smaller now. No less intimidating, but maybe more manageable. Unfortunately, the reverse was also true – human problems that had barely graced his thoughts in Hell were niggling at him now that he was back home. Particularly, he was dreading the reactions to his weekend kidnapping.
He hoped his mother hadn't called the police. Furuichi wasn't the best liar, but he'd have to bullshit his way through an acceptable excuse if that were the case. He'd gone to Tokyo with friends, maybe, or spent the weekend at the beach and forgotten to tell anyone. He could probably bribe the delinquents to lie to the police about him. They might even make a game out of spinning the best tale.
But more than his family's reaction or dealing with the police, he worried about what Oga had been up to. His friend had been stupidly protective of him the past few weeks, and Furuichi hoped the guy hadn't gone on a rampage or something. Toujou wouldn't be happy if the school was broken again.
The sun was just setting as Furuichi came upon his house. Well, there weren't any cop cars out front. That was a good sign. And Furuichi silently mourned the loss of the days when a lack of cop cars was a normal thing, rather than a best-case scenario.
"Oh, Taka, welcome home!" Furuichi's mom called as he stepped in the door. "You're just in time for dinner."
Well. Good to know she hadn't been too worried, at least. A little concern over her first-born son's mysterious disappearance would have been nice, though.
"Er. You don't mind that I was gone?"
"Well, it would have been nice of you to say goodbye, but at least Tatsumi-kun was good enough to call and let us know that you were spending the weekend with him. I had no idea you boys were so interested in museums! I would have taken you into Tokyo myself, if I knew."
What. Furuichi stared as his mother began chatting about the shopping trip she'd taken Honoka on. Oga had covered for him? And so badly? He'd thought it strange that the teen had so easily accepted Furuichi's refusal to get a demon contract when they'd last talked about it, especially when they'd both been so worked up over it. It wasn't like Oga to just drop something without getting his way – unless he had something else planned. Like 'museum trips,' apparently.
"That son of a bitch," he hissed, knuckles turning white against the kitchen table.
"Mom! Taka-nii said a bad word!" Honoka whined. Furuichi began spluttering out denials. The sharp crack of a wooden spoon across his wrist told him his mother was blatantly unimpressed.
"Watch your mouth, son," Furuichi's dad grunted from the couch.
The next morning, Furuichi awoke raring for a fight. His dreams that night had been less upsetting than usual, detailing a desolate, ragged envoy of those strange beings Furuichi had once been as they trudged on weary legs through the mountains. He had watched from afar, as though through binoculars, distant but not unconnected. Frustration had built in him at seeing the beaten, hunched forms of the proud race and being unable to help.
That frustration, compounded with his anger at Oga from the night before, had him in a singularly unpleasant mood when Oga showed up in front of his house to walk to school.
"Yo, Furuichi," Oga called. Furuichi's eye twitched.
"You," he hissed, bounding up to his friend, full of righteous fury and shoving a righteously furious finger in the teen's chest. "You set Behemoth's 34th Pillar Squad on me, you bastard!" Oga poked a finger in his ear and wiggled it around, the picture of boredom.
"No, I didn't."
"Don't lie!" he screeched, smacking his friend across the shoulder with his school bag. That Oga didn't retaliate spoke volumes. "You absolutely did!"
"Didn't."
"Did! You told Lamia to tell them, at the very least!"
"Well, you were being stubborn."
"So you had me kidnapped?! By the group of demons that was trying to kill us all a few months ago?!"
Oga shrugged and waved a flippant hand at him. "No, it's fine, right? Beel's dad made them promise not to mess with us anymore." Furuichi gaped incredulously.
"You knew? Why didn't you tell me about that, goddamnit? How am I supposed to support you if you don't tell me what's going on!"
"Ah, I forgot."
Furuichi deflated. Internally, his mind was a violent storm of cursing and general frustration.
Stop projecting. You're giving me a headache from a different dimension, came Hecadoth's voice inside his head.
Stop peeping on adolescent boys' private thoughts, you pervert, Furuichi grumped half-heartedly.
Hecadoth's response was something akin to a sledgehammer connecting with his temple. Furuichi cursed audibly and clutched at his head, prompting a strange look from Oga.
Since when can you do that?!
Since you started getting smart with me, you little punk.
Yeah, no. 'Getting smart' was practically Furuichi's calling card, like hell he was going to let someone deny him that. Inspired by Hecadoth's move and by the green-haired baby currently hitching a ride on his best friend's head beside him, Furuichi pictured Hecadoth being electrocuted with the same ease as speaking to him. He was gratified to receive a sharp yelp in response, and felt the demon's presence fade away in a profound sulk. Furuichi cackled loudly, prompting an even stranger look from Oga.
"The hell is going on with you?" Oga grunted, kicking his foot back and to the side to connect with Furuichi's knee. Furuichi gave a little half-jump to the side in an unsuccessful attempt at avoiding it.
"Just talking to Hecadoth. He's being an asshole," he said. This prompted the strangest look yet from Oga.
"You hallucinating, or some shit? There's no demons around here."
"It's our contract. He's in my head sometimes. We can talk, and stuff."
"Mm, that long-haired guy? The one who speared Hilda?" Despite the bland tone, Furuichi knew his friend well enough to pick up his vague disapproval. He nodded regardless. Oga grunted.
"Your choice, I guess. Anyone else?"
"Um, besides Hecadoth, I've got Naga, Laymia – you haven't met her, she's Lamia's mom – and Jabberwock for personal contracts. The whole squad has a weaker contract with me too, but it's nothing special."
Oga side-eyed him here, which would have been more piercing and intimidating if he didn't have a naked baby chewing on his ear and sticking a chubby finger up his nose at the same time.
"That's a lot. You up to it?"
Furuichi scowled at him mightily. "If you didn't think I'd be up for it, then maybe you shouldn't have fucking volunteered me."
Oga rolled his eyes. "Get over it, Idiot Furuichi. You're too–"
He was interrupted by a flurry of movement from beyond the school gate they had just come upon, and an obnoxious, screeching yell.
"Prepare yourself, Furuichi! You may have beaten us a few months ago, but we've improved by leaps and – "
"aCHOO! Ugh, ah, sorry guys, didn't notice you there. Don't worry, it'll thaw in a while," Furuichi said blandly, stepping past the MK-5 ice sculpture that now decorated the entrance of the building. If there was anything they were good for, it was relieving frustration.
Oga's eyebrows jerked upwards at the casual display of magic and gave him a considering look. He opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted again. His eye twitched dangerously.
"Oi, Furuichi," Kanzaki barked, stalking up to them with his face twisted into an ugly sneer. He was flanked on both sides by most of the Saints Crew. Only Himekawa was noticeably absent. "Oga said you spent the weekend with those Akumano fuckers. You transferring schools? Eh? You turning traitor?"
"No! I just went to get contracts with them," Furuichi said, backing away with his hands raised defensively.
"Contracts? Like marriage contracts? Plural?" Hanazawa gasped dramatically. She gripped Tanimura's sleeve and gave a little bunny-hop of excitement. Kunieda sighed exasperatedly beside her. "How scandalous!"
"Heh, didn't know you had it in you, Furuichi," Toujou chuckled. "Hey, look, if you need catering, I've got this new job–"
"I'm not getting married!" he shrieked. "Demon contracts! For power, nothing else!"
"Oho~ So what, you're packing, now? Let's see the marks, Furuichi," Kanzaki smirked.
Furuichi lifted his hand obligingly and waved it in the senior's face, displaying the evidence of Jabberwock's contract. "Here's one. I've got a few others on my arms."
"Haha, you look like a real delinquent now, Furuichi," Natsume laughed.
That's not a good thing! he cried in his mind.
"Whose contract is this, Furuichi?" Kunieda asked, eyeing the red mark pressed into the back of his hand.
"Um, this one is Jabberwock's. I've also got them for Hecadoth, Laymia, and Naga, and one for the whole squad, so that's 395 total."
There was a pause.
"Furu-pimp," Hanazawa whispered into the silence.
Furuichi was still pouting hours later. There wasn't much to do in class at Ishiyama High besides brood and sleep, and he was surprisingly well rested despite the hectic weekend. Instead, he had spent the first half of the day dwelling on his – friends'? – teasing. Truthfully, the light mocking didn't bother him overmuch – it had lessened considerably since the Tissue Incident and wasn't mean-spirited the way it had been, but it was much more comfortable to brood over than the impending decision he had to make regarding the dream coma.
Furuichi brushed those thoughts aside as the bell rang, signaling the lunch break. He glanced over at his friend and snorted. He was fully convinced Oga had some sort of sixth sense regarding lunch; he had been sound asleep at his desk since sitting down hours ago, utterly dead to the world and to Baby Beel's fussing, but had stirred awake moments before the bell sounded.
"Ah, lunch, lunch, lunch~" Hanazawa sang to herself as she and Tanimura gathered their bags across the classroom.
"Oi, Furuichi. Spot me some cash," Oga drawled behind a yawn.
"Hell no. Eat your own foot."
"Heh. You forgot your wallet too?"
"No, shut up. I'm on a diet."
"Gotta look nice for all your new wifies and hubbies, Furuichi?" Hanazawa giggled as she approached. Tanimura murmured 'creepy' beside her and took a subtle step away from him.
"Ah! You…" Oga paused for a moment, trying to place their names. "You. Got any money?"
Hanazawa pouted. "What kind of gentleman asks ladies to buy lunch for them, huh?"
Oga and Furuichi just stopped and stared at her. "Since when do gentlemen go here?"
She grumbled a bit, but looked defeated. "Yeah, okay, point. But one thing each! From the vending machines! I'm not buying anything from the cafeteria for you."
Oga shrugged agreeably and led the way out into the hall. Furuichi followed after offering the girls a bright smile of gratitude. He tried to engage them in conversation along the way, but they were remarkably good at twisting every word he said into a private conversation between the two of them. Furuichi huffed, and turned his attention elsewhere.
"Hey, guys," Furuichi nodded to Akahoshi and Takamiya, who seemed to be in some quiet discussion by the vending machines. Akahoshi gave him a grin and a brief wave, but there was no noticeable response from Takamiya – not that he could see the teen's face, with his hair, lank and hanging, obscuring his features. Oga just grunted at them and shoved past to kick at the vending machine, a few coins from Hanazawa clutched in his hand.
"You're too forgiving, Furuichi," a deep voice muttered behind him. Furuichi turned to see Toujou having just emerged from a classroom with Kanzaki and Natsume, arms crossed over his chest and a vicious scowl darkening his features. "That little rat-bastard ripped out your heart, and you just say 'hello'?"
Furuichi blinked, startled by Toujou's vehemence on the matter. He hadn't noticed any particular animosity directed towards Takamiya by other Ishiyama students after Oga had so thoroughly shown him his place, but then he had been rather absorbed in his own problems lately. And then he recalled Oga telling him about what he'd missed in the fight, how Toujou had appeared and seen Furuichi, apparently lifeless and sprawled in a puddle of blood.
It made sense to him now that Toujou might be less forgiving than the others, having actually seen what Takamiya and Lucifer were capable of. He grinned to himself a bit, happy with the senior's concern, but knew he had to clear up any misconceptions now before things got violent. He wasn't particularly thrilled with the coming admission, but the necessity was obvious.
"I don't hate Takamiya or Lucifer. They, um. They actually saved my life. Even though they took my soul." He paused to take in the flabbergasted looks. It seemed like no one could think of anything to say. Even Takamiya himself seemed too shocked to say anything, his jaw hanging down loosely. Furuichi swallowed down the lump in his throat before continuing.
"…I was dying even before Lucifer took my soul. When that Fallen Angels guy tort– er, beat the shit out me, he broke a couple ribs. They. Um. Pierced my lungs. I was half choking on blood the whole time I was fighting Takamiya," he shrugged uncomfortably, trying not to remember the wet, desperate gasping that had been his breathing, the taste of copper on his tongue thick and heady and nauseating, the searing pain as Hecadoth took command of his body to do battle with no regard for his condition.
He took a deep breath, marveling at the ease and painlessness of the motion, before continuing. "So when Lucifer took my soul, it gave Lamia a chance to repair my body while you guys tried to find the pieces, so I was healed when Mammon fixed me. If Lamia hadn't had that chance while my soul was split to heal my ribs and lungs, I would have died almost immediately after getting it back. Would have, you know, drowned in my blood."
There was utter silence in the hallway for a long moment, and then some terrible oppression crushed down upon them, stealing away their breath. Slowly, darkly, Oga turned and headed back in the direction they'd come from, where the Fallen Angels were typically gathered in the east wing of building two.
Furuichi's eyes were pulled to a splash of crimson dripping from between Oga's fingers. Blood, drawn by his unforgiving grip on the forgotten coins. The crew watched, dazed and frozen, until the death knell of Oga's measured footsteps reached halfway down the hall before Kanzaki spoke up.
"Well, I've gotta go…do a thing," the senior said, his voice quiet and blank as he began to move down the hallway following Oga.
"Ah, me too," Toujou agreed, falling into step with the smaller teen. Furuichi had never seen the man so grave.
"Oh, are you guys going in this direction, too? I get the feeling something really… interesting is about to happen," Natsume laughed softly, moving to pace the others.
"Hehe, yep! Heard there was corpse in this direction. I've never seen one before!" Hanazawa exclaimed.
"Idiot Paako, it's not a corpse. Yet."
"Guys, wait! You can't kill him, okay?" Furuichi cried, scrambling after them. He'd been hoping to discourage violence with the story, not instigate murder.
"Che, don't spout that bullshit. We're just returning a favor, you know?"
"No, seriously, what happened to the whole 'Ishiyama Solidarity' thing?" he said, moving in front of the procession to block them. "You can't beat him up, not with Fuji still out there. We can't show weakness at a time like this," Furuichi said firmly, meeting the eyes of each delinquent. They all shuffled their feet or glanced away, looking like pouting toddlers. Murderous pouting toddlers.
"We've gotta pay him back somehow, Furuichi," Oga barked from the staircase. Furuichi was a bit surprised Oga had even stopped. He'd been half the length of the building away from them.
"No, we don't. Look, I'm not saying you have to be friends with the guy, cuz I sure as hell am not, but he's still useful, you know? Big, strong guy like him, we can just allocate him to the front lines. He'd be perfect to spearhead an initial offensive against Fuji, if it comes to that," Furuichi said, falling into a contemplative mindset. He really could be a useful test subject for beginning to determine the extent of Fuji's abilities, and his position in their regimen as the very first to engage had absolutely nothing to do with the way he'd tortured Furuichi before, nope.
"…That kinda sounded. Like. Military-ish. And also sort of sadistic," Hanazawa hedged.
"As expected of our General! I approve," Natsume laughed.
Furuichi flushed and darted his eyes to the side. That was a very interesting wall, yep. "But do you guys get it? He's useful right now, so don't mess him up too badly, okay?"
"Heh. You heard him, guys. 'Not too badly,'" Kanzaki crowed.
"He's allergic to peanuts," called a quiet voice from behind the pack. Takamiya. There was a cut of silence as the delinquents all glanced at each other, unsure whether to accept the morbid peace offering, unsure whether it was even his place to offer. Toujou stood silent, stony faced and unmoving.
"…That might be fun," Natsume said finally. There was some awkward muttering of agreement as the group moved to follow Oga while Takamiya slipped into the background, away from the gang. Toujou was the last to follow, still staring after Takamiya with an unreadable look on his face.
His sharp gaze cut suddenly to Furuichi, and the senior wordlessly dropped a heavy, calloused palm on his head, ruffling silver hair. Furuichi's knees almost gave out from the force of the motion, but he took the in the spirit intended and offered what he hoped was a reassuring grin. The senior's face finally broke its stoicism as his lips quirked up a bit in answer, and broke into a short jog to catch up with the group. Furuichi leaned back against the vending machine and watched them go, torn between amusement and exasperation.
A low grumble broke him out of his musings, and Furuichi realized Hanazawa had never given him any money for the vending machine. He groaned and dropped his head into his hands, sinking to the floor, any good feelings washed away by his teenage hunger.
A nudge against his shoulder made him jerk his head up just in time for a bag of chips to fall into his lap. Furuichi barely kept himself from squealing with joy, simultaneously tearing the bag open and looking up to thank his savior. Leaning against the opposite wall was Himekawa, hands shoved into his pockets and shoulders hunched around his ears.
"Hm? Himekawa? What's up?" he said. The man was quiet for a moment, contemplative, not looking at Furuichi. He finally sighed and let his head knock back against the wall.
"Look, everyone knows you're too good for this shithole. You only came here because of Oga, right?"
Furuichi didn't answer, didn't have to. He wondered where this was going.
"Anyway, it'll be tough for you to get into a good university or find a good job or whatever, having come here. So, just, if there's something you ever want to do, or somewhere you ever want to go, let me know, and I'll make it happen."
Ah, that's where it was going. The apology. Furuichi hesitated, taken aback by the offer. That was a huge favor, particularly coming from Himekawa, who, despite his prodigious wealth, was somehow supremely deficient in fucks to give for anyone who wasn't himself.
But Furuichi didn't really want to accept this promise from the older teen, which he knew Oga had all but forced Himekawa to offer. He knew that for some reason, everyone felt guilty about what had happened to him, which, yeah, sucked, but he'd accepted long ago that he would risk severe bodily harm for being friends with Oga.
And he was okay with that, because having a friend like Oga, being trusted with the back of the Mad Dog and knowing his own back was safe at the same time, made all the pain in the world worth it. But to accept this crooked, awkward, miraculous apology for said harm seemed to… cheapen Furuichi's friendship with Oga in some way. It was as though Himekawa – and, by extension, Oga, who had called for this apology – were telling him that they didn't want his sacrifice, didn't want his trust, didn't need to be trusted by him. And it hurt.
Furuichi opened his mouth to reject the offer when Himekawa lifted his head for the first time to look at him, and his words died in his throat.
Looking the senior dead in the eye, taking in his solemn mien and the vaguely pleading furrow of his brows, Furuichi could tell that he was wrong in at least one aspect: Himekawa had not been forced into anything. Maybe Oga had taken his own pound of flesh from him, had ordered contrition, but now it was blatantly obvious that Oga's actions had been unnecessary. Himekawa had needed no prompting, only time, to come to Furuichi with this offer. His face was heavy with guilt and the resolution to atone.
And that, more than anything, more than the pain of having his soul shredded or dealing with the after-effects or feeling the tentative, guilty desire to have his pain recognized, gave Furuichi pause in his rejection. He couldn't say whether he'd ever actually take the teen up on the offer, but for the sake of allowing Himekawa to absolve himself of guilt, Furuichi let his face split into a warm smile.
"…Thanks, senpai. I appreciate it."
"So… What happened with the Fallen Angels guy? I didn't see any of you for the rest of the day."
Oga glanced up from the video game consol where he'd been inserting a fighting game disk. Furuichi thought about calling him out on the presumption of entering Furuichi's house, making popcorn, storming Furuichi's room, and using his things without permission, but decided against it – scolding had never worked in the past, and was unlikely to start now.
"Haa? Oh yeah, good shit. Used peanut butter to make hives rise up. Fucker's got all this funny shit written all over him now."
Furuichi sighed. Well, it could have been worse. He settled next to Oga against his bed and grabbed the other controller, spilling some of Oga's popcorn into his own bowl while they waited for the game to load.
"So what happened down there?" Oga mumbled around a mouthful of popcorn, eyes focused on the loading screen. Furuichi glanced up, confused.
"Down where?"
"Hell, idiot," Oga said, punctuating the insult with a flicked piece of popcorn. Furuichi grabbed the piece, licked it, then tossed it back into Oga's bowl, reveling in his squawk of revulsion and protest.
"Be more clear next time. And I already told you about the contracts," he said, grumbling and swatting when Oga up-ended the bowl over his head. Baby Beel squealed excitedly.
"Like that was all you did there," the dark-haired teen said with a roll of his eyes.
"Well the food was shit, but we already knew that from, you know, Hilda." Oga nodded sagely, morosely, in agreement. "Um. They also wanted to train me with weapons, but that didn't work out very well. I made some progress with the ice stuff, though," Furuichi said brightly, then groaned as Oga's character knocked Furuichi's off a cliff.
"Is it helping at all? The contracts, I mean. With your memory shit," Oga said gruffly. Furuichi's mouth twisted, fighting a smile. His friend was so bad at being caring and worried. Not cute at all, but Furuichi appreciated the effort.
"Maybe? My dreams were clearer last night. It's like now I'm watching from the outside, so I don't get confused by actually living and feeling what's going on. I wasn't as stressed this morning, and I was actually able to sleep the night. Might be a fluke, but…maybe not. We'll see." Furuichi paused, considering telling Oga about Laymia's potential solution. The decision was taken out of his hands by one of his friend's occasional bouts of perceptiveness.
"There's something else," Oga said, glancing at Furuichi. Furuichi took the opportunity to slip through his character's guard and land a critical strike. Oga punched him.
"Laymia suggested a coma to bring back all the memories at once. It would be around a week long to start, and it might help, but it also might break by mind. But at least it would be over with, and if it worked, I wouldn't be a liability when Fuji makes his move."
"Why the fuck would you put yourself in a coma, moron?"
"I just told you why, idiot. So? What do you think?"
"I think it's a shitty idea. You're useless either way, so better to be useless and conscious, so I can make fun of you for it."
"That's–!"
"A good philosophy. Did you hear that, young master? Learn from this smelly ape the proper way to treat your subordinates."
"Hilda!"
"The hell have you been?" Oga said.
"I've discovered the Solomon Company's headquarters," Hilda stated unceremoniously, hopping down onto Furuichi's bed from the windowsill. Despite the stark tone, there was some fiery promise burning in her eyes. "That is where we will find the young master's mother, Madame Iris."
Ah. That explained the eyes. "Where is it?"
"Los Angeles, California, in the United States."
"Pack your shit, Furuichi. We're going on a road trip," Oga grunted. He did not bother to look up from the video game.
Beside Furuichi, Alaindelon slid out from under the bed. He had his hands clasped to his chest and was side-glancing the teen coyly, his cheeks flushed a rosy pink that made Furuichi want to hide under his sheets for the rest of his life.
"I've prepared myself for your entrance, Furuichi-dono," the demon cooed.
Furuichi shrieked.
Attention all adolescents with possible delinquent tendencies: Do Oga and Furuichi's friendship and the Ishiyama interactions seem natural? Are they all sufficiently emotionally stunted with each other? Are they too casually violent? Hell, do delinquents even read fanfiction that my questions might be answered, or are they too busy delinquenting? Am I stereotyping now? Why is the sky blue? What even is life?
Also, someone asked me where I got the idea for this fic, and it's actually a totally epic tale, full of adventure and heroism. So there I was, playing Skyrim and raining fire down upon vampires, wearing my Snow Elf armor, and was like: Snow elves are cool. They have pale hair and eyes and skin. You know who else has pale hair and eyes and skin? Furuichi from Beelzebub. I'm totally gonna do a crossover. This is gonna be effing sweet. And that is the entire premise of this fic. Cool story, right?
Anywho, if anyone even braved the above morass of early morning half-asleep ranting, I hope you enjoyed the chapter. I can't promise the next one will come quickly, although I seem to be rather motivated lately, so we'll see.
I appreciate constructive criticism, and please let me know if anything is confusing or you see any errors.
~Breather