Archive of Our Own

Every day, every hour, every second, I hate my existence. Why must I have been born to this world. And why as a demon, the worst being there is, the most godforsaken species in the whole world.

I never had a purpose since I woke up with no memories all that time ago. Dressed in a suit like all the other demons, indistinguishable from them, a pair of wings sticking out of my back. I don’t know how long I’ve been like this, it’s hard to tell when nothing ever changes as the days pass by. I spend all my time watching the world, the dumb and useless people as they go about their lives. It’d be so much better if all of them just died, they never did anything good for the planet, for the universe. It’s probably thoughts like these why I ended up reborn as a demon out of everything.

Sometimes the upper demons summon me to give me a job, usually to follow someone and slowly drive them to suicide or crimes by various means. Even though it’s a dirty job, I welcome the distraction, at least it’s something to do. Something I can focus on, something that fills the void that is my existence. But as soon as those are done, it’s back to the same old same old.

There are times when depression dawns on me, when all I want to do is disappear, perish, end it all. But fate isn’t favoring the damned ones like me and no matter how much I try to, it seems like demons can’t die that easily. We don’t have to breathe, we can pass through matter, no poison can hurt us. Fatigue and hunger are also nonexistent. Not even weapons work, they just hurt hurt hurt so much but don’t fucking kill me.

And sometimes, sometimes I don’t have the strength to go on and just cry for what seems like days.

There isn’t anything I wish for more than to die.

Besides the jobs, the only small nice thing in my life is bits and pieces of memory that flash in my mind every now and then. I’m not sure but they seem to be from when I used to be a human? No one ever told me how I became a demon or what I used to be, but based on the handful of images that managed to come back to me, I assume I must’ve been one.

I cherish all the memories that show themselves to me. They are all different, the place never the same and neither most of the people. All but one, this one person is always there, the brightest smile I’ve seen as he looks at me. I often wonder who he might be, what we were and what happened to him and me. Once or twice the little glimpses were accompanied with a voice, soft and cheerful and laughing as he calls my name. No matter how hard I try though, as time passes I forget the sound of it and nothing is left but yearning for more.

You’d think immortal beings wouldn’t suffer from mental issues but there I am, one of those days when depression is at the all time high, when I feel myself being summoned. I expect it to be the same lower-class demon as usually to just hand me the assignment and sent me away, but instead I find myself in front of the boss of our ward, sprawled in a big chair, his wings spread wide and long, horns poking out from his hair.

“Welcome, Ichimatsu,” he greets me with a big smile, “do you know why I brought you here today?”

I shake my head, how could I even know? It’s not like anyone ever tells us anything, especially the lowest of the low like me.

“I have a very special job for you! Something only you can handle, okay? Do you think you’re up for it?” It’s annoying, the way he treats me like a child, but I don’t mind. It’s a nice change from the cold indifference everyone else shows me.

“Yes, sir,” I reply. Something just for me? There’s a strange feeling in my chest, something I haven’t felt in so long, maybe ever? I think the word is excitement, anticipation.

“Very well! This here,” a window into the human world opens at the snap of his fingers, “is a church you’ll be monitoring for the time being. A powerful priest resides there and we need you to report any and all suspicious behaviors. Also, take this amulet.” A servant walks to me from the side, handing me a silver ring with several colorful gems embedded into the surface. “It’s a special artifact that negates the protection placed on sacred places so you can enter the interior of the church anytime you want to. Just keep it on at all times so you don’t lose it. I’m counting on you,” he winks at me and I nod and close my eyes, ready for transportation to the human world. When nothing happens I open my eyes and see him watching me, almost as if he’s studying me.

“Is… is something a problem?” I ask nervously, not used to being paid attention to.

He’s quiet for a few seconds, his eyes narrowing, before laughing it off. “No, not at all, don’t worry. I’ll send you there right away.” And before I can say anything more, I’m already gone, traveling through the emptiness of the space connecting Hell and Earth. It only takes a moment to arrive to the place and I can see the church right under me, sitting on a top of a small hill surrounded by a village. There’s only fields and woods as far as eye can see, no concrete cities or disgusting slums I’m so used to seeing whenever I go here. It almost feels… familiar.

I fly down and sit at the top of the church, wrapping myself around the cross sticking out of the tallest tower. The clocks says it’s a little after the noon, the town empty of most people, only older people sitting in front of their houses and chatting, some taking care of their gardens. Everyone else is somewhere at work or at school, doing their best at life as if they weren’t going to die soon anyway.

And then I look down at a small group of people standing in front of the church, one man dressed in long black cassock with a big cross hanging around his neck, explaining something to the rest of the people. His movements and stance are different from that of other priests I’ve seen before, he carries himself with confidence unusual for the servants of church. It’s strangely alluring to me and I spend the rest of the day following him around, watching from as close as I dare to approach.

There are moments when I think he can see me, when it seems like he senses someone watching him but he never shows any signs of it being the case. He seems so happy and bright for no reason other than to do his job and talk to people, always smiling softly at everyone, even those annoying kids that come in the afternoon and tug at his clothes and drag him all over the place. How can he be so happy, so at peace with everything. I can’t understand.

Several days pass and I grow bored, bored and angry. The reports I send are all the same, dull descriptions of his daily life, of how fucking joyful and full of life he always is. It’s not fair and I hate it. How come I’m stuck in literal Hell most of my existence while this feeble human gets to have everything one could wish for. It’s not fair.

It’s about two weeks after I got here when it happens. I follow him around again, flying a few meters behind him soundlessly. I stopped caring about whether or not he sees me, it’s obvious he knows about me anyway so why hide, it’s just pointless effort.

He’s preparing for an evening mass, readying the wine and bread on the altar when I fly closer, from his back so he doesn’t see me approach. “Isn’t it just hollow words and gestures, trying to talk to someone who you can’t hear, asking for a forgiveness from someone who probably isn’t even listening? Why bother~” I drawl, feeling daring today. I fly even closer, lowering my voice and wrapping my arm around his shoulder. “Wouldn’t it be more fun to join us?” I whisper into his ear.

His body tenses up as he feels and hears me and then before I can react he turns around, shoving me away with his arm. I lose my balance, my wings flapping all over the place as I try to gain back control, but I’m falling to the ground anyway. In all the chaos, one of my wings bumps into the things placed on the table and knocks over a goblet of the altar wine. I close my eyes as I see the liquid fly up, ready for the burn Christ’s blood is sure to bring upon a godforsaken being like me, but the pain never comes.

“Are you okay?” a voice asks and I open my eyes to see the priest bracing himself above me, his hair and clothes wet with red droplets of wine. There’s the same warm smile on his face I saw so many times before as he looks down at me, something weird in his eyes I can’t pinpoint. I’m frozen in place, his face so close, his body radiating warmth and love for all around him, even a rotten being like me. I can’t understand, why did he save me. Pain is all I can feel anymore, I deserve nothing more than the worst there is. And yet here he is, shielding me from it with his own body. Why?!

All I know at that moment is that I have to go, I have to get away from him right now.

I turn around, spreading my wings to push him away and I fly up and away as fast as I can.

“Hey, wait!” he calls after me but I don’t turn back. The sincere smile is burned into my eyelids, no matter where I try to hide I can’t run away from my own mind. My chest hurts and I feel like I’m going to break apart any second now but instead the ache dulls as time passes.

I watch the sun set behind the horizon, the bells ringing as they call for people to gather to praise and worship the Lord. Their prayers can be heard even outside but there’s one voice I hear more clearly than the others. The same one inquiring about my well-being after I mocked his way of life, all he believes in.

It’s not possible for one man’s heart to be so big as to encompass this much love for the world.

It takes me two days to get back to my job, the Hell impatiently asking for another report of the priest’s daily life. It’s all the same every day anyway, why do they even care about this man so much? He doesn’t seem the type that would endanger us in any way so what even is all of this for? I don’t know. I return back to my job.

This time around I don’t bother with hiding at all, normal people can’t see me anyway and there aren’t any other priests around so I sit down into the pew and unashamedly watch him go about his day. He only acknowledges me by nodding to me when he passes by but doesn’t try to speak to me again and neither do I.

Loads of people come to visit the church every day, more than I’d ever expect, especially considering how small the village is. But the reason is obvious as they approach the priest and ask for his advice or bring small gifts of food for the church. He always welcomes the visitors with a smile on his face and never refuses to help. I would at least think the children that are throwing themselves at him and raising their voice inside of what’s supposed to be a sacred place would anger him but he treats them with simple kindness and patience.

I’m lost in thought as I watch him, wondering about why Hell would want to keep an eye on a simple and nice person like him. And before I know he comes closer to me and smiles, crouching down to get on my eye level. “What’s wrong?” he asks with so much sincerity and I pull back away from him, shocked. Why would he ask me that, this isn’t right, I’m a demon trespassing on holy grounds and he’s genuinely interested in my troubles? When have I ever done anything to deserve his kindness.

“Nothing, leave me alone!” I growl back at him, I don’t know how to deal with this, no one has ever been nice to me since I was reborn as a demon and it was fine that way. Because once I get to know what compassion is, it’s only going to get harder to live without it when I leave this place and it’s priest.

He watches me for a little longer before shaking his head and standing up, going back to his chores, the ever-present smile slightly bigger than usually.

After that he starts greeting me more often, looking at me while dealing with other people, showing me his awareness of my presence much more than before. I never asked for this, never wanted to be treated nicely. Sometimes my mind creates an image, a feeling of what it’d be like if he wrapped his hands around me like he does to all the children. What it’d feel like to be loved. Tears always well up when it happens and I curse everything as I hide away to cry, the vision too realistic and at the same time unimaginably wrong. How can he do this to me, I won’t be able to leave if he binds me down with his gentle smiles and warm gestures.

I don’t tell him to stop.

Weeks fly by and I start to notice something different about him. His skin is pale and the way he carries himself isn’t as strong as it used to be when I first got here. He starts coughing, just every now and then at first but then he can’t even do his work properly, having fits during masses and while playing around with the kids. Everyone worries about him, the villagers bring him more food and even medicine, wishing him better health and some older ones scolding him for working too hard.

He doesn’t get better.

It’s when the church is empty, the priest cleaning the place and readying it for the evening mass, when he starts coughing blood all of a sudden, his hand sprayed with red droplets, some falling to the freshly cleaned floor. He takes some time to calm his breathing and when he opens the eyes, he looks at me sees me frozen in horror. Despite everything, he smiles, blood staining his lips. “Don’t worry,” he tells me, “it’s not your fault.” Then he turns around to go wash himself, leaving me behind.

What does he mean, not my fault? Why would I ever think it was, I never so much as touched him! My mind races as I try to figure out the meaning of his words, the reason he’d suggest such possibility. I look down at my hands, what have I done to cause him to get like this, how could I have infected him with sickness when I can’t carry any?

My gaze falls onto the ring I received from the boss, the one he told me to wear at all times. My hand shakes as I take the rim into my fingers and slowly pull it off. It should hurt to be in a sacred place with no protection, but there aren’t any spells to hurt unholy beings, nothing like what I felt when even flying by a church those other times I was sent on a mission. I was always free to enter this place without this stupid amulet and the upper demons must’ve knew very well. There was a whole another reason they gave me this ring and told me to have it on me all the time. They knew I’d get close to this kind-hearted priest one way or another. That I’d slowly infect him with some deadly disease they poisoned the ring with.

All that’s left to figure out is why. Why would they do this to him, to me.

With the next report I send a request of audience with the boss and shortly after I’m dragged back to Hell, back to the same spot in front of the same sly-grinned demon. The satisfaction in his expression is all the confirmation I need for my theory and I fall to my knees, tears running down my cheeks.

“Why,” I ask through the sobs, “what was the purpose. He was never a threat to Hell, why do this to one of the few truly good people left on the rotten planet. Why?!” Why make me do your dirty work when all anyone had to do was to hide the ring in the church and let it work on itself. I can’t bear this sin I never wanted to commit.

The boss just laughs, a disgusting sound full of malice and mischief. “To have fun of course! Oh Ichimatsu, you have no idea how we enjoyed watching the way you two got closer to each other.” His expression darkens as he reaches out to raise my head and makes me look into his eyes. “How does it feel to cause a slow, painful death to someone who cared about you, someone you care about as well?”

I feel sick to the stomach, the guilt crushing and for the first time I feel like suffocating, unable to breathe, my vision dissolving into red, red as his blood.

“But there’s still something you can do,” he says and I snap out of it and look up at him. The smirk tells me he isn’t sincere, that he’s still messing with me and planning something awful but I don’t care, I’m willing to grab at any chance to save him. He opens his hand and a servant brings a flask of a clear liquid for him. “This here is something that will help him from the pain.” He holds in front of me, the flask swinging from side to side as it hangs from his hand. “Will you take it?” he asks with a smile. “Will you give it to him?”

I know there’s something wrong about this, why would he give me the chance to save some priest, he couldn’t care less. But against my better judgement I grab it carefully with both of my hands. There’s no reason for words of gratitude and in a few seconds he’s sending me right back, the ring staying behind.

For a few days I keep watching him, waiting for the disease to disappear since the source is no longer around but it only gets worse to the point that another priest is called to the church to help take care of him. Despite all the coughing and blood, he still gets up every morning and though he can’t perform masses and play with the children anymore, he does his best to help as much as he can no matter what. It’s only when he thinks he’s alone, when I hide so he doesn’t know I’m there, that his true pain shows through the mask of the sweet smile.

And then I can’t take it anymore. I replace the water he prepared for himself with the liquid from the flask when he turns away. I hide behind a corner as he takes the glass and starts drinking it. But after just a few gulps the glass falls out of his hand and he bends, falls to his hands and knees, coughing violently, blood splattering everywhere. I watch in horror as I feel his heartbeat and breathing slowing down and run to his side. I’m afraid to touch him but just kneeling next to him hurts more than knives or holy water, it hurts my soul and heart, none of which I should even have.

Eventually his hands give out and he collapses on the cold stone ground. As carefully as I can I lift him up and turn around so he’s laying on his back and his eyes find mine. “It’s not your fault,” he says the words again and tears start falling down my eyes. How can he say that, a man of faith shouldn’t lie so then why is he telling me this, only I am to blame. I watch him, unable to speak, to do anything to help him, what even is there to be done at this point? He’s just going to die, right here in my arms, with no one around but the one who brought this onto him.

There’s a hand on my cheek and he caresses me, comforting me. He’s trying to tell me something but no words are coming out as his eyes lose focus and his heart stops, the hand falling to his side. It takes a few seconds for the fact to reach my mind and when it does, I fall onto his chest, crying, crying harder than I ever have before as the body under me cools down to a rigid, hollow shell of what the man used to be.

I wish I could go after him, follow him to apologize and to spend more time with him, to be with him forever. But I can’t, I will never be able to go where he went.

It doesn’t take long for the humans to find him and I step back, watching their shocked faces as they find him dead. Killed by my hands. If only they could be cut off so I wouldn’t be reminded of this every time I look down. For eternity.

Days pass while they prepare the funeral. It looks like they managed to find him a place in an old little sanctuary at the cemetery connected to the church so he’ll always be close to the ones who loved him the most, to the place he loved the most. I spend the time sitting in one of the corners of the church, no one from Hell looking for me yet.

And then they bring the coffin and place it in front of the altar, the procession scheduled to begin in a few hours. Everyone leaves outside, some of them still can’t believe it really happened, how could they not see it coming. It’s hard to be in the same room and I understand. But once the church is empty again, I run to the coffin, sit in front of it and the tears are back again.

I try to call to him, to his master, to anyone who could hear me out, I need someone to know I never meant for this. But I’m all alone, no one has listened to me before and after a sin like this, no one ever will.

I don't know how long I've been there, time loses meaning when one loses the reason to live again. But I can feel them before they materialize, my boss and two of his servants.

“Take him,” he orders and there are two pairs of hands, one taking me from each side and dragging me on the cold floor, away, away from him.

“NO!” I protest and thrash around, trying to get back to him, I can't leave him, I need him, please! But it's futile, there's two of them and I don't even have strength to fight back for too long, running out of energy after a short moment. “Please…” I try again and again but all I get is the servants’ indifference and confusion and the boss’s disgust.

Before I can be taken back to Hell, another presence arrives to the scene, one I've only heard about before, the polar opposite of what I've got used to. Above the coffin, a winged person in white gown and a reef around their head descends, floating above and watching the four of us, four demons causing a commotion in a church right before a priest’s funeral. “Go away, you're not welcome here,” the angel says in a cold voice before turning his back at us. He raises his hands and suddenly, light fills the room and the air is filled with his energy and love and I see his soul ascend to Heaven, the angel following him.

“No, don't leave me here! Take me with you!” I call after him but I know he can't hear me like this and never again will our paths cross again. I'm dragged back to Hell before the whole thing is over and thrown into a cell right upon arrival, locked and stripped of my powers. The clothes change to plain white and I stand out from all the darkness around me, different and unneeded. Truly alone, broken beyond repair and left only with sorrow and an empty heart. The tears never stop falling.

I stay in the cell, stripped of everything I was and could've been, of ways to pass time, of time itself. But I can still tell it flows because no matter how hard I try to hold onto the memories of him, one day I can’t remember what his face looked like, what the sound of his voice was. There’s nothing left to keep me sane but I can’t even bring myself to care.

Of all the demons keeping watch over me, there's one that is different. I'm used to being treated in the worst ways there are, mockery nd hatred and disgust, even physical abuse, but this one seems… Intrigued? He never talks to me or hurts me but he's always watching from the chair in front of my cell, thinking probably, asking himself what a sick fuck would go to such lengths for a human priest.

Every time him or the others move, I can hear and see the keys hanging around their belt, my freedom always just outside my reach. I'd never try to take them them anyway, rotting in here isn't even close to the punishment I should receive. But sometimes I let myself imagine what it would be like to get out there, if it was possible to knock on the Heaven’s door, to get to him. Maybe the angels would just fry me to death right there, that’d be nice.

The strange one is in charge that day and I notice he sits closer than usually, though still out of reach. He's never talked to me before, but he does so for the first time. “Do you want to go after him?” he asks and I lift my head, focusing at his face through the tears. “Well?”

I want to answer, yes, yes of course, but I haven’t used my voice since then, haven’t had a single reason to do so and when no words don’t come out I just nod. He watches me, studies me closely, before he reaches for the keys. I don’t let myself hope, no one is ever going to let me out of here and I stop paying attention to him, instead returning to staring at the same wall through the bars I’ve already got memorized perfectly.

And then the bars disappear, no longer blocking my view. They’re gone, just like that. A thought forms in my apathetic mind. Freedom? No, of course not. Just a sick joke.

“Hey, you want to go, right?” I hear his voice again and I can see him holding out the keys, different ones this time. My eyes go wide when I realize what they are, the keys out of Hell, with those no one can be stopped from leaving. “I’ll let you go.” I can’t believe his words and I still can’t bring myself to hope for this to be real, it can’t be.

“Why,” I ask, barely a sound at all, my voice hoarse and foreign even to me. “Why?” I repeat, stronger this time.

“I’m not sure myself,” he replies, then shrugs, “it just feels right.” I can’t believe that’s enough of a reason but it seems like maybe, he isn’t pulling my leg? That he really wants to help, really is letting me go just like that?

As if to encourage me to finally move, he jangles with the keys and I follow the noise, trying to stand up but falling down again and again. I’ve been sitting in the same position for so long, unmoving, I can’t get my legs to work so I drag myself towards him, slowly inching closer, closing the distance. My whole body hurts, so unused to working properly but I push through the pain, focused only on my only chance out of here.

Finally I’m there, right at his legs and I reach up and he let’s me, he really let’s me take the keys. “Thank you,” I whisper, pressing the cold metal to my chest, “thank you, thank you, thank you.” I still can’t believe it.

For the first time, his expression changes. “Just go already,” he smiles, “he must be waiting for you.”

The next second I’m gone, on the way to the last place I saw him.

The church still looks the same as it did the last time I saw it, the whole place does. It’s only when I get to the sanctuary where they put his coffin when I realize how much time must’ve passed. There’s a thick coat of dust on every surface, spiderwebs all over the ceiling, some even on the coffin itself. The last flowers brought here are long dried out and shrivelled. I stumble the last few steps and then collapse over the wooden container hiding his former body.

No matter how hard I try, there are no tracks of his soul for me to follow, no clue where to go next. But just being here makes me so happy and sad at the same time, tired of everything. All I wish for is to be with him again, just a brief moment would be enough. Though spending the rest of eternity here, next to what he used to be, that might also be nice. I can at least pretend to be with him.

The place brings memories back, of that short time I got to spend in his presence. It’s almost as if I could hear his voice again…

I feel something fall on my head and I take it between my fingers, something soft? I find myself holding a feather, white and fluffy and warm. Before I start wondering where it came from, I hear it again, his voice. But it’s not inside my head, no, it’s coming from above--

White light fills the room, white as the wings of an angel who enters the room, feathers flying everywhere like snowflakes, covering the dusty grey floor. An angel dressed in a black cassock with a golden cross around his neck, his arms open in a welcoming gesture. My priest.

“It’s you,” is all I can say, bewildered and shocked, crying as I’ve always been, the warmth seeping from him hurting in a whole different way than what I’m used to, in a good way. “How did you know…?” How did he know…

“I’ve been searching for you, this whole time,” he replies, calm and sincere even though he seems troubled somehow, why? “I had to, needed to find you, to be with you again. So that you wouldn’t blame yourself for what happened. It wasn’t your fault.”

“But it was!” I cry out, all the blame that has dulled out while I was imprisoned coming back in full force. “If it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t have had to die! I came here to apologize, to explain.” I swallow the sobs as I voice out my heaviest sin, the one thought that’s been weighing down my mind this whole time. “You can do the same to me, just do it, it’s only fair, please!”

He shakes his head. “I could never do that to you, Ichimatsu, not in a million years.”

“Why not?! I’d deserve all of it! And… How do you know my name?” I never told him, I’m sure of it.

“Just like I thought,” he sighs, but continues right away after seeing my confusion, “let me explain. When people die, they are reborn as angels or demons based on their lives, the kind of a person they were. But sometimes, mistakes happen. You, my dear Ichimatsu, were one of those. You never deserved to live an afterlife of a demon, not once. And though it won’t undo the decades of pain you went through, it’s important that you know.”

My head is spinning, that can’t be right at all. I’m a horrible, rotten person who never did anything right, who’s destiny is to die alone and unwanted and forgotten.

“Never again,” he says as if reading my thoughts, “it was enough that you lived alone both of your lives. Now it’s time to change that.” His words reach me but I can’t understand what he’s saying, what it’s supposed to mean.

Suddenly, I feel a strange sensation, my wings tingling and as I look back I can see the black leather crumbling, turning into dust as the black pieces fall to the ground and from underneath, new wings sprout, white and beautiful, the feathers making a soft noise as I spread them. Are those really mine? Were they always supposed to be like this? Same as his?

I turn back to him, surely it must be a mistake, how could I ever be anything more than the lowest demon, used for others’ convenience. But he just smiles and nods and reaches his hand out to me, beckoning me closer. I’m shaking as I raise my own hand to meet his and before I know it he pulls me up and into an embrace. The first one ever since I can remember.

“I missed holding you like this,” he whispers into my shoulder and his voice is thick and wet with tears. And I want to ask what he’s talking about but then a memory comes back, a memory of the same person that has always appeared in those images. The bright smile and beautiful voice. The same as him, my priest, my angel.

“It was you, this whole time,” I croak out, bursting into tears again as I wrap my hands around him and squeeze him closer. “I had no idea.”

“Yeah. You left me behind, remember?” I do, I do now as all of it comes back. An orphanage, two boys always together who only ever had each other, sharing an unbreakable bond. Brothers, one could say. But then the younger one got sick and soon there was only one. It’d take years for them to meet again but eventually…

“I’m sorry, I never wanted to--!”

“Shh, it’s okay. I already forgave you long time ago. I recognized you the first day you appeared here, you know? I knew it was you. I only wish I had told you right away, none of this would have happened…” Seems like all of us have crosses of our own to carry. But maybe, sharing them with someone might just make it easier.

“It’s okay. We’re going to be okay,” I whisper and for the first time, I smile.

It’s a long while before he pulls back and he looks down at me, ruffling my hair. “Come on, let’s go home,” he says and I nod.

Finally I find peace and I smile, smile until my cheeks hurt, smile until I forget what sorrow is. Smile for him.

~ fin ~