Chapter Text
“Ahh...this feeling. The feeling of being trapped, by chains that cannot be seen or touched...it has been weighing down on me especially heavily as of late. But what was my transgression? Is it not in our nature to desire power? Yes...it is true that I was rightfully defeated before I could achieve it, but why is that deserving of punishment? Bah! He is a fool. All HE desires is maintaining the status quo. That coward is content to hole himself up in his blasted basalt fortress, being fondled by his concubines and bathing in rivers of gold and platinum. But that is not what it means to be a demon! We must constantly strive for greater and greater power! And that is why I have been a little more productive than my ‘superior’. Yes...he is the means by which my chains will be broken! I’m sure of it! And he is just about ready. YOU! BUTLER!”
“Hee hee! You called, Lord Endeavor?!”
“Fetch Shouto from his chambers! I have waited for him to become of age for long enough...I believe it is time to put my plan into action!”
“As you command, Lord Endeavor! Hee hee hee!”
~~~~
Shouto Todoroki. By all accounts, he was a peculiar child, especially considering he lived among demons in the Nine Hells. Everything about him indicated a direct opposition to his father, Endeavor. Of the nine dukes of Hell, Endeavor was the eighth, second only to Lucifer himself. This technically made Shouto a prince, but no one would be able to guess they were related unless they were told. Where Endeavor was passionate, ambitious and vehemently philosophical, Shouto was passive and cool-headed, preferring to keep to himself.
Additionally, he didn’t seem to possess the unrelenting cruelty and depravity that the demons so proudly displayed. He never got the appeal of being carried by slaves across the molten River Styx or having lascivious succubi tend to his every whim.
Even his appearance was different; he had a tannish complexion as opposed to a deep red, save for a conspicuous scar under his left eye. His hair was semi-long and equal parts white and crimson, and while he still had the telltale horns, pointed ears, and a tail, they were considerably less distinct than in most demons.
Being such an anomaly in the Nine Hells, Shouto longed for a purpose. He spent many lonely days looking over the obsidian balcony in his chambers at the volcanic wasteland beyond. In hell, everything was highly regimented, and everyone had a purpose: the succubi tended to their master’s needs in the brothels, the tiny imps worked as servants and butlers, and the archdukes sat upon their thrones and commanded their vast armies in battles against other fiends. Even the slaves, barely sentient lumps of flesh that were only intelligent enough to cry out in anguish, had a purpose, as hopeless as it was. It made Shouto feel incomplete. Endeavor undoubtedly had something significant in mind for his son. After all, for what other reason would he make him undergo all that ruthless training to hone his powers? It was all he did besides sleep and eat. Part of him hoped it would be worth it, but something inside him felt doubt.
“Shoootoooo! Wakey wakey!” Shouto’s thoughts were interrupted by his father’s imp servant calling him in his jarring, high-pitched voice.
“What do you want, Itazura?” The irritation in Shouto’s voice was palpable. Itazura was by far the most annoying of his father’s subjects.
“Endy wants you in the throne room! It’s very important, he says! Hee hee hee!” Shouto sighed and turned away from the balcony, following the imp to where his father sat.
~~~~
“Ah, Shouto. You’re awake. I was about to send the overseer to rouse you from your slumber.” Endeavor callously greeted his son as he sat upon his throne of igneous rock, holding a massive black trident in one hand.
“Itazura said it was very important,” was Shouto’s cold reply. “More important than training?”
“For once, he was right in that regard. But first, give me a full display of your power. I want to be sure that my offspring is right for this task. Make it quick.” Summoning all his strength, Shouto took a breath in, exhaling sharply, reaching out to embrace the throne room with his power. The left side of his body, where his hair was red and his skin scarred, was licked with flames that extended in all directions. From his right side, characterized by white hair, a mass of ice comparable to a small glacier extended outward, spitefully stopping just short of some of Endeavor’s bodyguards.
"Watch it!” A guard, a fiend about seven feet tall, with enormous pincers and the face of a vicious canine, yelled out in a guttural voice. “You could have killed me!” Endeavor laughed, a deep, booming sound that shook a few sizable pebbles from the ceiling.
“That will suffice, Shouto!” He grinned gleefully down at his son. “Now, it is at last time I tell you your true purpose. You would do well to listen to me.” Not having much choice, Shouto nodded. “As you know, my ‘superior’, Lucifer, bears a grudge against me because of my...ambitions. He believes that my hunger for power makes me threat to the natural order of the Nine Hells, or some such nonsense. Did the Duchess Fyress not rightfully seize control of the sixth hell from the hag Meridrya? Did the duke Mazez not get demoted and replaced with Aered when he was deemed too weak to rule? Apparently, Lucifer does not adhere to that philosophy. Before I conceived you, I attempted to conquer the mortal realms, making it the tenth hell, thus making me the rightful Archduke. When I failed, instead of allowing me to grow stronger, Lucifer bound me to this palace for a thousand years. That fool merely punished me out of cowardice! And that is why I am sending YOU to the mortal realms in my stead, in the hopes that I can be free from my chains prematurely, and that we can become the rightful rulers of Hell!” Shouto paused, reflecting on everything his father just told him.
“And just how would I go about doing that?” He questioned.
“It’s simple, really,” Endeavor explained. “We demons grow stronger from the strife of mortals. After all, do they not turn to us and strike deals when all hope is lost? Since we are connected by blood, the more strife you cause, the stronger the both of us will get!”
“But father, surely there’s another way,” Shouto protested. “What have the mortals done to deserve suffering?” Endeavor laughed once more.
“Don’t be a fool, Shouto! Why should their plight matter to a proud demon like you?” He paused momentarily. “But since you asked, I shall let you decide for yourself whether they deserve to suffer or not. However, I think you’ll be surprised at just how capable they are at doing our work for us...and how many similarities they have with demonkind.” The duke chuckled to himself. “I trust you have no further questions, so I shall send you on your way. Step into the glyph on the floor.” Shouto obeyed, walking over to where a pentagram had been carved into the stone floor. It was surrounded by five figures, cloaked in dark hoods, who began to chant a complex incantation of some sort.
“You might find that your appearance will be altered when you step into the mortal plane,” said Endeavor. “I would use that to your advantage. You will not be allowed back here until you accomplish your task.” Shouto simply glared at his father until the summoners finished their chant, and he was whisked away through a fiery conduit.
~~~~
After what seemed like an eternity, Shouto emerged from the gate and was greeted by a myriad of strange new surroundings. The first thing he noticed was a blinding light that forced him to shield his eyes. It felt hot, but not to the oppressive, suffocating extent of his homeworld. When Shouto grew accustomed to the brightness, he saw that everything was bathed in a warm, golden glow. In place of black rocks and glowing red lava, there were vast expanses of green and brown, stretching onward for miles on end and even reaching upward to meet a blue sky. A cool breeze blew through his red-white hair, putting him at ease. He sighed as he began down the dirt path before him.
The young demon recalled what his father said about his appearance. He could still feel his tail tucked neatly underneath his tunic, but when he brushed his bangs out of his face, he could not feel the familiar sharp horns on his head. He also noticed that his ear was more rounded. For some reason, it was liberating to have one less shared characteristic with Endeavor. He continued down the path, not knowing or caring where it would lead. Eventually, Shouto came upon a crossroads, marked by a large, stone signpost.
“Looks like we got a new mark, boys! Open fire!” Before Shouto could take a moment to decide which way to go, he was interrupted by a brash voice off in the distance. He was about to turn around to investigate the disturbance when he felt a stinging pain in his left leg that knocked him to the ground. He gasped in shock when he saw that an arrow had pierced him just below his knee.
“Woohoo! Perfect shot! Let’s get ‘im!” Shouto braced himself to escape at the sound of approaching footsteps, but with an arrow stuck in his leg, he wasn’t able to get very far. He glanced up to see that he was surrounded by young men, clad in what looked like cheap leather armor and hoods, and armed with basic knives. They grinned mockingly down at the young demon.
“Nowhere to run, kid.” One of them laughed. “Why don’t you make it easy and hand over whatever money you have?”
“You’re joking, right?” Another piped up. “Look at his clothes! He’s dirt poor! And his hair's all weird! I'm not taking my chances.”
“Hey, you know what they say,” said a third, “appearances can be deceiving, right?”
“IF YOU WANT HIS MONEY, THEN SHUT UP AND CHECK HIS POCKETS!” A taller man in black and armed with a bow, presumably their leader, bellowed. “WE’RE BANDITS, NOT TAX COLLECTORS!” The young demon tensed up as one of the bandits fidgeted through his pant pockets, reaching inside them and frantically feeling for anything out of the ordinary. However, it was more from discomfort than surprise. Money was an important commodity in the Hells, and it encouraged the rampant avarice present in all demonkind. However, he didn’t imagine that greed to be present in mortals as well.
“He’s got nothing.” He sighed with disappointment. “What do we do with ‘im?”
“I say we kill him and leave him for the buzzards!” The leader, who stood menacingly over Shouto's form, pulled an arrow from his quiver and aimed his bow straight at the boy's neck. “Any last words, kid?” The young demon was beginning to grow angry. Had his father been correct about these mortals?
“You...you are no different than demons!” Shouto spat defiance in the bandit’s face, getting ready to fight back at a moment's notice.
“Yeah, thanks for the sermon, preach. Tell your god I don’t care what happens to me when I’m dead!” As the bandit pulled back on the string, Shouto mustered up his strength on his right side and froze the group in place with ice blocks, which went up as far as their chests.
“What...how?! What in the hell are you?!” While they were unable to move, Shouto took the opportunity to pull the arrow out of his leg and limp to safety as fast as he could, deviating from the roads and into a vast field of green.
"Must be one of those people with those weird powers!" He heard one yell as he was almost out of their line of sight. "You know, like that one kid with skin as hard as rock who gave us some trouble a while back!"
“I knew he wasn’t worth it! We’re gettin’ out of here as soon as this damned ice melts!” Shoto wasted no time taking shelter behind a wall of thick, brown columns. The air was cooler and darker there, helping to calm his nerves somewhat as he checked his wound. He lifted his pant leg and saw that blood was pouring down his shin. He hated getting injured, because it meant having to resort to unpleasant methods. Reluctantly, he summoned the power of his left side and began to cauterize the wound shut with a small flame, wincing when he felt a new pain within his skull. When the sensation subsided, he shrugged it off and decided to take some time to recover from his encounter with the bandits, eventually drifting off into a nap.
He was barely beginning to lose consciousness when he was alerted to the sound of rapid footsteps. He opened his eyes to see the face of a boy who looked about his age. He wore simple clothing and had unkempt, dark green hair that matched his eyes, with small black freckles dotting his cheeks. He bore an expression Shouto had never seen before, one devoid of any malice or anger.
“You’re hurt!” His voice shook with urgency. “What happened to you?!”