Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“...meri?”

   She heard a little mumble, a bit more pressure on her thigh. Iruma’s head lay where it fell, having passed out the moment his overworked self lost its momentum. His gentle collapse had startled her, but the awkwardness instantly switched to adoration at how cute the boy looked while fast asleep. 

   Iruma slept comfortably enough, since Ameri vowed to not move or otherwise disturb him, but the half-hour of naptime didn’t quite seem to quell his exhaustion. At the end of a groggy minute, Ameri wasn’t alone with her thoughts and his quiet breathing anymore.

   Half-awake and half-not, he mumbled again, “Ameri?”

   “Iruma,” she whispered back, delicately as a dream. 

   The boy relaxed into the softness below, only realizing the source of softness a moment afterwards. His eyes lingered on the patch of exposed skin, that spot right between her stockings and skirt, mere inches from his face. Iruma immediately launched himself upwards, away, into a long string of apologies for violating her personal space— or would have, if the demoness’ hand didn’t gently but firmly keep him rooted.

   “It’s alright.”

   Iruma paused, but the brief panic overrode his fatigue, to her chagrin. He settled, somewhat, and sighed deeply. His curious blue-eyed gaze turned her way, and he asked, “How... how long was I out?”

   “Twenty-eight minutes, I’d guess. And Iruma, don’t apologize for ‘not completing our reading time’ —I know you were about to— you needed rest far more than I needed my manga fix.”

   Checkmated, Iruma let his head fall against her leg. His tone almost sounded like a pout as he mumbled, “Still feels kinda bad though.”

   “That’s a shame. Though, I am slightly curious why you’re so exhausted today.”

   “It’s a bit of a long story.”

   Her look was warmth, sanctuary, sincerity. Ameri moved a reassuring hand up to his shoulder, simply stating, “I carved out an hour of my busy schedule just to listen to you talk, Iruma. So that’s what I’ll do for you.”

   Iruma yawned suddenly, and before she realized it, she was yawning too. 

   With a cheeky smile, she declared, “...after you get some more sleep.”

   His eyes went anywhere but hers. “I mean, would that be alright?” 

   Something bothered her about the way he asked, as if self-care remained a foreign concept for the boy. Iruma was like that, always putting others before himself, a need-to-please attitude that gave her joy and broke her heart all at once. Despite all the love he received every day, from his enthusiastic friends or his overbearing grandpa, it was clear that life before the Netherworld left Iruma with so, so many invisible scars. And if she could heal just one or two of them...

   Ameri patted her thigh, offering a place to lay his head in a voice soft as silk yet firm as steel. “You deserve it.”

   Iruma acquiesced, relaxing, letting his head rest against Ameri’s body instead of merely maintaining contact with it. To ease him, Ameri started to move her thumb in slow circles on his shoulder,  and he shifted to allow her a better angle. Iruma closed his eyes, having solved his positioning problem, and the tension he couldn’t help but carry dripped away with each tender second. 

   Devil, he was precious. All cozy, peaceful, and happy. Plus, he didn’t even notice he accidentally grabbed at the skin he fixated on earlier, as he would an actual pillow. Cruelty and Iruma would never exist in the same sentence if Ameri had her way, but teasing... she wouldn’t mind a little bit of that. Coyly, she asked, “Do you like your cushion, sleepy?”

   Iruma cheeks reddened, and he retracted his hand while fumbling for a tactful response. “It’s... nice.”

   “Just nice?”

   He waited a bit too long, then uttered a “yes” against her thigh a bit too quickly for simply “nice.” The demoness gave his hair a small ruffle, the joke concluded, and stayed as quiet as possible to give the poor boy some sanctuary. A final shared yawn, and Iruma gave in to restful sleep.

   Once again, Ameri was alone with just her thoughts and his steady breathing. And it felt...

   “Perfect.”

Chapter Text

   As Iruma rounded the corner, he heard something he never expected while outside closed doors: the sound of Ameri’s laughter.

   To his knowledge, Azazel Ameri had two modes: The stoic Student Council President, and the adorable shoujo-manga fangirl. For the months Iruma thought he was the only soul to ever meet the latter. 

   Until now.

   She had her back turned, conversing with a group of students. A modest bunch, mostly girls, but they all sported smiles as the group began bidding the president their goodbyes. All of them, even Ameri, shared a giggle as the students departed. 

   Iruma cleared his throat, gaining Ameri’s attention. “Wow, were those old friends of yours?”

   Another pleasant surprise for Iruma: a warm smile crossed Ameri’s face as she faced him. “No, just some fans and well-wishers, thanking me for being their President. Miss Gori there was just telling me how...” She paused, looking at the folders Iruma held to his chest. “Oh, sorry, was there official business you needed?”

   Iruma nodded, but added, “Just the Magical Apparatus Battler’s budget request forms. I’m not in a rush, though. I’m just honestly surprised to see you on-duty and talking with a big group, and they all walked away still, uh...” He trailed off.

   “Without their tails between their legs, begging forgiveness for spending valuable minutes of my time?” Ameri helpfully and self-deprecatingly offered.

   He gulped. “I was going to say ‘looking happy,’ but you definitely could be—” Uh oh. Her warm expression was gone, “— a little... stern?”

   Ameri raised an eyebrow.

   “Sometimes.”

   “I’m aware of my reputation.” The demoness shot a glance in the direction of the departed students. Laughter echoed down the hallway, and her stoicism softened. “But I also realized... I wasn’t entirely happy with that anymore.”

   “What changed?”

   “It was your classmates, actually. Miss Elizabeth, Miss Kurori, and even Clara. We have Ladies’ Meetings each week, and I can chat and gossip and just unwind like a normal girl. Letting others see that side of Ameri isn’t all that bad.”

   He beamed in agreement, absorbing all of that secondhand pride for his friends. Ameri then shyly tapped her index fingers together, continuing on. 

   “And I need to thank you too, Iruma. I never thought I had a softer side before our little ‘sessions,’ or how terrifying I could be without noticing.”

   The boy, bless his heart, reflexively consoled, “Ameri, you really weren’t...” 

   Then his memory of their first few meetings materialized. “— it’s amazing how much you’ve improved!” Iruma pivoted.

   Ameri nodded along, “It’s really not that big of deal. But if we’re going to chat, how about we sit down? I can pour some Hell Grey...”

   The two spent the last few minutes of the school day sipping and sharing tea, telling of bullies bullied, magical apparatus ideas, whatever they could think of. Iruma finally heard Miss Gomi’s anecdote, how the schoolgirl was nearly late to her class before Ameri throttled a miscreant through a wall, creating the perfect shortcut to reach her homeroom in time. Laughter filled the air, and even as Iruma said goodbye and met with his Azz and Clara for the walk home, a warm, infectious energy remained with him.

   That warm feeling lasted until Iruma realized his hands felt tired, and the reason were budget request forms he was still holding. 

Chapter Text

   Halfway through the reading session, Ameri finally realized something felt different about Iruma, then nearly drove herself mad trying to determine what.

   His hair appeared the same, blue hue and cute little cowlick intact as ever. The outfit remained unchanged, this stature looked the same, and Iruma launched into his manga reading with his usual boundless enthusiasm, with absolutely nothing obviously out of place.

   However, Ameri didn’t reach Rank 6 without learning to trust her gut feelings, and clearly she required a closer inspection. Iruma’s dedicated performance absorbed the schoolboy so much, he didn’t notice Ameri rise from her viewing couch until her giant shadow fell over him.

   “‘Kakeru-kun, I hope you read the letter I left for... ’ Oh, um, Ameri, do you need something?”

   “Perhaps.” Ameri grasped at the empty air right in front of Iruma’s face, then shot him an expectant look. Iruma nodded and leaned forward, his face now clasped between her palms in a familiar, cheek-squishing position, and Ameri examined him up and down.

   A few moments of patient exploration, and her fingers felt a patch of roughness as it slid upward. Ameri scrutinized further, at a few small dots on Iruma’s otherwise baby-smooth jaw. “Iruma, are you starting to get a little bit of stubble?”

   The jaw in question returned a slightly-embarrassed chuckle. “Yeah. I just noticed a bit of hair coming in this morning, so I shaved it. Opera showed me how”

   “Oh, is that so?” The texture perplexed her for a sixth and seventh time, so Ameri made an eighth pass just to be sure.

   “Mmhmm. It’s pretty new, so I won’t be getting a beard anytime soon, but I think I’ll still keep it smooth. To be honest, I don’t think I’m ready to change my image yet anyway.”

   At the moment, two Ameris waged war deep inside the Class President’s imagination. One, all sparkles and glitter, chanted “Stay Cute Forever!” as she handed her Iruma a safety razor. The other giggled as she stroked the rugged beard of an Iruma, muscular and inexplicably taller than herself, right before he carried her bridal style into the sunset. 

   Ameri shook her head, dispelling the fantasy, and simply nodded appreciatively. “That’s fine, Iruma. Don’t grow up too fast, okay?” But when you finally do, may puberty hit you like a Teth’s fireball.

   Iruma gave a sunny smile, cheeks bright and warm against her hands. “Thank you, Ameri!”

   Another warm look, another few moments' passage.

   “Are... you going to let me go?”

   “Just a minute.”

Chapter Text

   Iruma didn’t finish his afternoon eating that day. A student being hurled through the hallway doors onto a table full of desserts had understandably dropped 'fine dining' a few priority places. His options immediately switched to either figuring out what the hell was happening or staying the hell away.

   Now, Iruma vastly preferred the latter, but as the figure stood up and brushed off the flecks of confection, the dirtied Student Council uniform they wore changed the situation. His loyalty to his former clubmates overruled his avoidance instinct. The battered student let out a fierce scream as they charged back into the now-visible ruckus in the hallway. With Asmodeus and Clara in tow, Iruma cautiously joined the crowd forming around the spectacle. 

   As expected, it was an all-out brawl, between what looked like most of the Student Council and a thuggish-looking gaggle of students, clad in identical green military-style jackets. Even though they only targeted each other, the violence engulfed the entire hallway. Iruma shot a questioning look to his friends, eager for exposition. 

   Asmodeus quickly filled him in. “Goon Squad Battler. They mostly get together and work on important life skills, like looking tough and bullying others. In a few years these Goons might graduate and find respectable work as Minions, and do the exact same things for an influential demon lord.”

   Iruma gulped, muttering to himself, “Sometimes I forget I’m surrounded by demons...”

   To his misfortune, Iruma's complaint was true in a literal sense as well. This Goons greatly outnumbered their opponents, like a demonic horde masquerading as a school club, and though he knew the Student Council’s training meant they could hold their own individually, Iruma didn’t like his old comrade's odds in the long run.

  Or his own odds, at the moment. Enough Goons had filed in around the sides, cutting the trio off from the cafeteria. They were sneaking around the crowd, looking for a cheap shot at the Council members, and it meant danger now lurked only a few feet away. Above all, he didn’t yet see the Student Council’s greatest advantage...

   “Ameri!”

   Despite the demoness’ incredibly tall stature, he just barely caught sight of her red horns above the mob of Goons, themselves no slouch in the height deparment. A moment afterward, a powerful blow forced her backward through the crowd, bowling over quite a few Goons in the process. Her back squarely to Iruma’s group, Ameri grit her teeth and shifted her stance from absorbing punishment to ready to deal it.

   With the Council so vastly outnumbered, Iruma couldn’t stand idly by anymore. He slipped underneath the onlookers and ran, making contact with her. “Ameri, we’re here to heEEEEEEAAA—”

   Iruma had simply placed his hand on her shoulder, and the demoness reacted reflexively. Iruma suddenly wasn’t vertical anymore, but now horizontally slung across her shoulder and the ground was rapidly getting closer. Before she could complete the maneuver, Ameri finally recognized the high-pitched screaming and stopped, holding him mid-toss.

   “Oh! Sorry!” Her face was shocked, apologetic, and upside down, so Iruma just returned a nervous chuckle.

   “Hi, Ameri.”

   She shot a glance past him, then suddenly lowered him further, pivoted, flawlessly connecting a roundhouse kick into an opportunistic Goon’s gut. Riding the momentum, Ameri twisted Iruma around and let go, granting him a wobbly return to his feet. With literal seconds of breathing time, she took a moment to fix her bangs before giving him a warm. “Hi, Iruma. How are you doing—” she swung a solid hook over Iruma, hitting the same Goon again “—How are you doing today?”

   He gave a smile back, continuing on as Ameri redirected a haymaker and countered. “Pretty good. You too?” 

   “Mmhmm. Just busy with Student Council duties!” 

   “What’s exactly going on anyway?”

   “Goon Squad acting up. I can only guess—” A dodge “—evil cycle —” Another dodge “—or big ego—” a jab, another, a solid cross and finally a dropped Goon “—I actually haven't the faintest, I’ll find that out laterlookout!”

   “I see!” Iruma hurriedly jumped over another Goon’s missed sweep, Crisis Evasion Ability kicking in, before asking the obvious question. “Why aren’t the teachers doing anything?”

   “Oh, they are! Look.”

   Iruma turned, and indeed there were several teachers standing on the sidelines. He didn’t recognize most of the instructors, but Kalego stood among them. They were doing something, and that something was holding clipboards and taking notes. Kalego made eye contact, and without breaking his dismissive stare, stuck his leg out and tripped a Goon attempting to flee, letting a Astaroth Smoke drive her foot into the helpless footpad. He jotted something down, undoubtedly criticizing the demon's poor showing, before mouthing to Iruma, 'Don't disappoint me.'

   He facepalmed. “Demon school, right...” 

   “Iruma!” Asmodeus shouted, forcing himself through the tightly-packed onlookers. He raised his hand as if to summon his signature flame blade, but another Student Council Member forced his arm downward. “No magic!” The white and black-haired student warned, “Or the teachers jump in, against us!”

   “Fine! We do this the hard way!” He huffed, and both adopted fighting stances alongside each other. “Asmodeus Alice, now what do I call you?”

   “Zagan Johnny Western!” Zagan Johnny Western introduced himself. 

   Asmodeus couldn't stop laughing until well after they pummeled several Goons into unconsciousness.

   Clara, meanwhile, found her own fun by latching onto the bulkier Goons’ backs, laughing wildly as their flailing felled their own comrades. Seizing on the distraction, Quichelight led his fellow councilmembers to link with the front opened by Asmodeus and Western, then focused on subduing those within. Once on the verge of being overwhelmed, the two sides now found themselves locked in a dead heat as they struggled to establish dominance of the hallway.

   Ameri, and by extension, Iruma, remained at the vanguard, pushing forward to retrieve a Council Intern dog-piled under a  group of particularly furious thugs. Iruma helped the student to her feet, while Ameri introduced her own feet to Goons’ faces. With a bit of distance, the schoolboy finally noticed a detail he missed in the unbridled chaos surrounding him, and gasped.

   “Ameri, are you wearing a bow in your hair today?”

   The graceful hurricane paused, mid-roundhouse, a tinge of red on her cheeks. With one hand, she reached up and shyly tugged at said little black bow, just above her left temple. With the other, she seized a Goon by the throat to maintain her balance. 

   “What, this? I just found it in my drawer and felt like it, is all,” The Student Council President did her best to downplay the compliment, the polite response.

   “Well, it’s so cute! Oh wait, it's just like in...”

   "First Love Memories!” They gushed simultaneously.

   “Exactly! I hoped you’d notice, Iruma!” Ameri elatedly agreed. The surrounding Goons and Student Council alike stopped and gaped, utterly perplexed by their complete switch of temperament.

   “I love the arc when Rin first starts wearing it, and how it represents her budding romantic feelings for Kakeru-kun! So good!”

   “Yes! It's perfect, right?!” 

   “What’s First Love Memories?” Ameri’s Goon managed to ask.

   “Nothing!” Ameri declared, the demoness reinforcing her claim with a solid crack across his jaw. “Nobody asked you! And I don't remember saying any of you could stop, either!”

   Iruma jumped in, equally desperate to deflect the subject. “You heard her! G-Get back to fighting!” He threw a jab at the air, just to keep up the spirit. The surrounding combatants shrugged, and resumed the walloping.

   The school bell rang, but the fighting continued uninterrupted. Iruma guessed the brawl itself was enough of a test for the participants, and a lesson for the onlookers, because none of the teachers intervened except to dismissively pull defeated students to the sideline. Or perhaps, the unbridled chaos simply tickled the demons’ fancy. It was likely a combination of both, but the way that the Goons and the Council alike kept throwing themselves back into the fray, it was clear: they were enjoying the melee.

   Actually, didn't that apply to himself, too? Iruma was in the eye of this particular storm, by choice. Sure, his uncanny evasion skill seemed to be working for now, but the center of a brawl, weaving next to the priority target of a horde of demons, Iruma never expected himself to remain. Asmodeus and Clara were hardly in danger; in fact, they were the danger. With a solid line of soldiers formed, the Beths and Gimmels that comprised the bulk of the Goon's ranks didn’t stand a chance against the disciplined Council, the least of them being either Daleths, or they were Clara. He couldn’t see havoc the little demon girl was wreaking, but the screams and her laughter kept his imagination occupied. 

   Yes, with his other friends safe, the Student Council holding their own, Iruma realized something. Nothing kept him here except for... 

   Her.

   He watched Ameri pull a picturesque pivot, striking two particularly large goons silly simultaneously. Despite their bulk, his friend was still taller and tougher, yet as graceful as an gymnast, strength and finesse at once. He caught a glimpse of that black bow as her scarlet hair flowed around her, just as she flowed around her opponents. Somehow, still devilishly cute, he had to admit. 

   Their eyes met, and Ameri gave a little smile, putting even more effort into the next sequence. It suddenly clicked, why the tide of battle suddenly shifted. Ameri once explained her bloodline powers to him: the more determined she felt to win, the stronger she became. Right now, only a few feet away, the demoness had a friend to impress. 

   He wondered, briefly, Even though her other friends were here all along? Why now?

   Thirty seconds more of watching her work left only a few stragglers, plus one particular hulking demon. This one gave him pause: half-bull, half-bear, half-mountain, with a third of not understanding how fractions work thrown in for good measure. Ameri beat him by a few inches in height, but this demon's form was as wide as it was tall, and stout, solid muscle at that. His jacket seem featured extra embroidery, stretched to the limit by the massive frame wearing it. Iruma realized, this one hadn’t jumped into the fight at all, seemingly content to watch from the sidelines and mumble to himself, so he guessed this must be Goons’ Overboss. 

   Ameri confirmed his suspicions. “Taurursa. Fifth year, fifth rank. Bloodline Magic: Steadfast, meaning he can't be moved against his will.” 

   “You know him?”

   She narrowed her eyes, readying herself once again. “There was only one possible victor to earn Vau rank last year. He finished second.”

   “Who finished first?”

   Ameri sputtered. “W-what? It was me. You knew that!”

   “Oh, right.”

   “Honestly—”

   She didn’t get to finish, because a flash cut her off, followed by an explosive crackle of static. In a split second, Iruma caught sight of Taurursa unleashing a devastating burst of lightning, unleashing his incantation in her moment of distraction.

   Yet, Ameri reacted in a split second. He could see her start to step in front of him, eyes burning fiercely, undoubtedly activating her bloodline magic. No magic will harm me, he imagined her deciding that very moment. Her own magic would likely overpower his, despite his element of surprise. Yet, the small sliver of doubt that Ameri might be in trouble forced Iruma to act without thinking.

   The invincible maiden stepped forward, to protect her friend.

   The extremely vincible schoolboy stepped forward, to... protect his invincible friend. Unfortunately, his mind caught up with his legs a bit too late.

   Fortunately, two people couldn’t physically occupy the exact same space at once, so Ameri immediately tripped over the shorter Iruma, and the spell blasted harmlessly over their combined tangle of limbs. Stuck underneath her and tasting ozone, Iruma shot a desperate look backwards to his friends in the spell’s destructive path, fearing the worst. He sighed in relief when he saw the teacher’s combined barriers shielding the crowd from the unusually powerful attack. 

   Another glint turned Iruma’s head back to the President’s rival, and he sharply inhaled at the sight of a flanged morningstar hefted in his meaty paws. Where did he get that? He wondered, before remembering again, Demon School . Taurursa’s menacing eyes looked at the befuddled Ameri, but then, square on him. The demon found the weakpoint he so craved, and charged forth.

   “Nooooo! Iruma!” Clara cried out, trapped behind the teachers’ barrier. The instructors only needed at most ten seconds before they could put the upstart demon in his place, but Taurursa only needed five.

   And Ameri only needed two.

   The determined demoness lifted herself up, just enough to slide a leg underneath herself as she quickly slid forward in an acrobatic split, right underneath the hulking brute’s guard. Ameri roared as she clenched her fist, springing herself upward to unleash the strongest uppercut she’s ever thrown, right into his massive jaw.

   Except she didn’t. Ameri underestimated the length of his stride by a few inches, and her eyes widened. Her iron fist stopped itself right between his legs, and she was still trying to push herself upward. 

   Iruma winced, and so did everybody else. Ameri's unused hand covered her mouth as she gaped in shock, realizing her rival's special ability meant he absorbed all of her momentum. All of it. 

   After a chorus of sharp inhales, an absolute silence fell over the hallway. Not a single student, teacher, Councilmember or Goon moved, or even dared to breathe as they witnessed the devastation before them. Far away, the school bells tolled, soundly clapped. 4pm classes began. Fitting. 

   Taurursa took a step back. He lowered his morningstar, slowly nodding, as if he was merely processing bad news. Yet, his eyes whispered a different story. He gave the look of someone who gazed into the abyss, so long that his eyes became nothing more than mirrors reflecting the wretched horror they succumbed to. Taurursa's head weakly tilted upward, and seemed to recognize the sign and arrow further down the hallway. Infirmary, it said. Without a further sound, the defeated demon stepped around the two, walking past the parted crowd and vanishing around the corner. The remaining Goons made themselves scarce, and neither Student Council or teacher pursued.

   Ameri lowered her fist, numb. Even Kalego was looking upon her with stunned horror. She pulled her leg forward until she was sitting, pursing her lips tightly as she pondered the cruel nature of her fate. 

   To both of their surprise, Clara's quick thinking salvaged the situation. “Mess with the President’s friends, she’ll make your entire bloodline end! Yeah! Yeah!~” She cheered enthusiastically. As she chanted and zipped around the sidelines, the crowd eventually joined in on the chant, awkwardly at first but genuine by the fifth attempt. They were whooping, hollering, cheering at the Student Council proving their superiority, even as Ameri tried to escape the entirety of the last minute by hiding behind her hands. She pulled that black bow from her hair and cast it to the ground, her right to femininity forfeit in her mind.

   Iruma stood, achieving only three steps before two solid masses glomped him off his feet.

   “You’re alive, Irumakins! Yay!” Clara hollered, squeezing him tightly. 

   “Master Iruma! You’re unharmed! Not a single one of those thugs had the skills to land a hit on you, sir!” Asmodeus beamed with pride, hugging him as equally tight as Clara. He turned towards the sitting Class President, and though Asmodeus always addressed her with utmost respect, this time the male's respect came from fear. “And thank you very much for keeping Iruma safe, our most excellent Student Council President.”

   “Anytime, Asmodeus.” Ameri returned, tone excessively neutral.

   Eventually, Iruma wiggled free, kneeling beside the distraught girl. His hands scooped up her little bow off the floor, and he offered it to her gingerly. “I liked when you wore it.”

   Before she could object, Iruma cut her off. “Yes, you are cute enough, mother of all uppercuts included. I insist, Ameri.”

   Ameri pulled her hair back, accepting the bow and setting it in place. The smile that he so greatly enjoyed was restored. Before reality could catch up again, they simply enjoyed the moment together.

   “Thank you, Iruma.”

Chapter Text

   The maiden hovered in a strange state between death and undeath, face red as the setting Netherworld sun and feeling equally hot. She hadn’t moved from the spot she’d been slain, as her bed was comfortable and plush and soft and perfect for these teenager moments which seemed to be happening more and more. An amber eye gingerly opened and peered cautiously forward, not nearly cautiously enough, for she died all over again at the sight contained in that little red box.

   Week six of my new workout routine. #FeelingStrong! 

   That’s what the Sinstagram caption said. Just above it, in its unfiltered glory, was Iruma Suzuki. 

   He snapped a photo of himself right after a workout, a shirtless workout, and his dedication to training started to visibly pay off. Ameri desperately hoped his temporary Student Council training regiment contributed to this payoff, because it was glorious. 

   The teen was obviously new to social media, not centering the selfie on any spot in particular or looking gussied up at all, but that didn’t matter. By sheer luck, his thin sheen of sweat reflected the fading daylight so unintentionally beautifully, giving delicious definition to his developing biceps, triceps, and Ameri spied an actual divide between his pecs now. 

   Above the bits of textured sugar was his perfect little cinnamon roll face, toothy, goofy smile and pure joy all over his face. His boundless enthusiasm, the gentle, supple texture of muscles, all of it at once was too much for her, too, too much. It was quite possibly the cutest thing Ameri ever witnessed, and after months of continuous Iruma exposure the demoness had set her bar very, very high.

   She squealed again, letting her little red phone fall against her chest. It took a hand over her mouth to silence the embarrassing noises she couldn’t help make, yet there was no escape from that image... not that she wanted to escape. Or should she? No. Maybe? Her thoughts were a useless jumble right now. She grumbled helplessly; how in the netherworld did it come to this?

   She could blame puberty, because despite everything, Ameri was just a 16-year old girl, head awash with hormones and school stress and countless firsts. Emotional outbursts were normal, even typical, especially for her first genuine crush ever. Goodness, had it really been months since she admitted that?

   Ameri mentally pivoted. Yes, she found her scapegoat; at age ten Ameri shot up like bamboo and filled in just as quickly, and most demons took one look at the towering teenager and assumed her far outside of their league. From then on, only hulking barbarians or preening peacocks dared court her. Her fists still clenched remembering how those lechers made no secret of their sole desire to conquer the unconquered maiden, in every one of their tiresome flexing contests or saccharine serenades. 

   And that’s what made Iruma so special: he bypassed the whole exhausted affair, seizing her heart in those cute, stronger-than-before hands and not letting go— 

   Oh no, her heart was beating like crazy again, another hot flash overtaking her. “Gah! Why is he so cute!? ” 

   To her luck, the next tizzy was shorter than the previous ones, and eventually it was just Ameri’s frustrated pout staring down her little red phone, menacingly resting against her body. It was only fair that she respond to her friend’s post, but doing so would risk viewing the photograph again. Not that she could ever forget.

   Seizing the moment, the girl unlocked her screen and immediately scrolled down to the comment section. Ameri gaped; the only reason she avoided witnessing Iruma’s weapons-grade cuteness was since so many people beat her to commenting. Iruma’s follower count was so small, why should she have worried about being late? The section was filled with profile pictures or names she recognized, and Ameri pursed her lips as she read them.

   First place was Valac, or “Claraaaaaaaaaa!,” who replied with fifty :wow!: demoji faces (she counted), beating Asmodeus who gave a predictable, “You’re amazing, Master Iruma!” That tall, boisterous one in Iruma’s class, she forgot his name, seemed to write a poem: “YES! Never stop training! Never stop fighting! Train to be a KING! Seek Manliness Always! -Sabnock Sabro.” Odd, but charming nonetheless. And just under him, a blonde demon girl with black horns simply commented, “hey!”

   “That girl’s going nowhere fast,” Ameri muttered quietly, but her heart went out to the poor hopeless soul. A sudden fear sank into the teenager: she wouldn’t come off as desperate as her, right? I won’t, she decided then and there.

   Unfortunately, every neuron in her brain seemed to have a different idea what to post, and followed that with an argument that any other comment would come off as boring, nasty, thirsty, or embarrassing. Wincing with every typed letter, she rattled off “Excellent work.” and hit post, then fell back and waited for the world to end.

   Fifteen seconds of the world not ending later, her phone buzzed. A like, or response comment, that could be the only possible explanation. Her heart raced, “It must be from Iruma!” 

   The girl could see it now, a suave response from her crush. It would say, Thank you, Ameri. You’re beautiful, and I’m coming over to massage your shoulders. In fact, I’m already here.

   “Why thank you...” Ameri purred. Before she knew why, the girl was lying face-down, a pillow placed on her back to simulate weight, warmth, with her hands gently kneading at her shoulders as she pretended they were his.

   In that runaway fantasy, Ameri could somehow see his handsome but sensitive body kneeling over her as he rubbed her poor, overworked muscles. That Iruma leaned down, ticking her ear while smokily whispering, “Hey there, pretty lady, you know your crush on me is probably just your hormones talking?”

   “Nuh huh,” she pleasantly mumbled back. “I know it’s real. You’re just so cute and genuine, and then you pulled me out of my weakest moment, plus I know you like seeing my nice side.”

   The Iruma chuckled, “That’s probably true, but I’m just a figment of your imagination. I don’t have any particular likes or wants.”

   “Mmm, nothing’s more romantic than talking to- talking to yourself? Wh-What?”

   Ameri pushed herself up, surprised and utterly confused. The fantasy poofed right out of her mind, leaving her with nothing but white-hot embarrassment and a shameful heat in her lower body. At that moment, her phone buzzed again, and Ameri pounced upon the welcome distraction. 

   Opening it up, someone had indeed liked Ameri’s response, but not exactly how she’d hoped. Oddly enough, that blonde demon had liked Ameri’s own comment, and the second ring was a reply from Valac.

   It was a single demoji, :smug sunglasses:, and she hated it, because Valac knew. 

   Her hand met her brow, and Ameri winced. “I need a cold shower...”

Chapter Text

   Since he’d forgotten what exactly he was looking for, twice, Iruma decided to bite the bullet and finally organize his phone’s photo library. He created four folders: ‘Friends,’ ‘Funny,’ ‘School,’ and ‘Places,’ and then scrolled up to the very top to begin. 

   The first image saved to his phone, the photo Opera took of Sullivan and himself celebrating Iruma’s first day, prompted him to start a new folder for Sullivan and Opera, ‘Family.’ One by one he proceeded to sort through his library, seemingly pausing after each one to experience the memory behind each one all over again. 

   There was the first selfie he’d ever taken with Azz and Clara. Oh, and the first meme Clara ever sent, still capable of crippling him with laughter. The view of Cutthroat Valley from the back of the Guardian became his new wallpaper. There was the Misfit classroom. Memes from Clara. The Council’s audience room. Tea with Ameri. Battler Fair flyers. More memes from Clara. Test videos of the fireworks. Study session selfies. So many places, so many faces. And soooooo many memes... Iruma needed a new folder, ‘Clara Collection,’ just to keep her from overwhelming the ‘Funny’ folder. 

   The ‘Friends’ folder, by far the largest, quickly needed further sorting under individual names. The manual assignment took so very, very long due to plenty of overlap when a photo contained multiple people, and Iruma grew to despise the Misfit classroom photo. 

   But in his mind, it was worth it to see his friends’ smiling faces, perfectly categorized, and he even could see how everyone slowly evolved since he first met them. The changes were mostly hairstyles, accessories, moods that shifted by hunger and sleepiness and whatnot. Clara’s smile grew bigger than ever, Asmodeus... looked the exact same since day two. Huh. But the award for greatest transformation went to his now-close friend, Ameri.

   The schoolboy chuckled slightly at the first image the Student Council President permitted to be taken of her: a stern, stoic headshot she intended as his phone’s profile picture. She seemed so scary back then, that persona contrasted by the photos that would soon follow. The first few weeks of Ameri were sparse, and the few shots he had showed her addressing something else or frowning at him. 

   But then, Iruma pinpointed her first documented smile, the date placing it just after he started training for his first Cannonball Execution. Afterward, the girl in the photographs seemed neutral, inquisitive, or even blushing, giving little smiles whenever they shared the frame. It wasn’t just her face, either. Ameri still radiated confidence and conviction, but the way she carried herself simply felt...

“Happier.”

   Yes, Iruma saw it more clearly with every subsequent photo, barring a picture of her demure unsure fiasco that he couldn’t bear deleting. Especially after that incident, the teatime moments dropped in frequency, compared to more photos of her among Iruma’s other friends, or in casual situations, plus quite a few with Ameri as their sole subject. His friend smiled, maybe looked surprised or stunned, or she burned with determination or excitement. Yet the cold, dismissive Ameri was simply no more. 

   When Iruma reached the images from Lady Levi’s Leisure Park, he realized something else: the photos where Ameri smiled the brightest, radiated the most happiness, the photos captured those moments right when Iruma held her full attention. Every location, every frame, every time she focused her dazzling amber eyes right at the camera lens, the evidence mounted.

   “I make her happy,” Iruma determined. It took a moment more for the statement to sink in, but as it did, the grin he sported rivaled the girl in the photographs.'

Chapter Text

   “...and Mr. Johnny, make sure to send Mr. Guison a summary of today’s meeting. Now, if there’s nothing else, then I’d say this session is concluded.,” Ameri stated. 

   She bowed her hands together and leaned forward, surveilling her subordinates. As usual, their discipline and poise met or exceeded her expectations, but she felt an invisible tension, and she didn’t like it. 

   They looked between themselves, and her vigilant eyes caught them subtly nodding to one another. Her gut instincts were right. 

   With her pink hair prim and proper, Astartoth Smoke retrieved a folder from her bookbag, gently placing in on the meeting table. “There is one complaint we, your loyal staff, would like you to address.”

   At that moment, the demon sitting on the opposite end of the table raised his voice, reminding everyone just why he was placed as far from the President as possible. “More importantly, Ronove would like to ask if you have reconsidered his proposal for a Student Council-exclusive full day spa?”

   “No. Moving on—”

   “Oh, well, that about the—”

   “Also no. Moving on.”

   “Or—”

   “Do you have a serious consideration for us today?”

   “My proposals are ALWAYS seri—”

   “Ronove, shut up.”

   He fell back into his chair, tears and devastation all over his face. Ameri added another mark to the mental tally of Ronove breakdowns she’d been keeping, a grand total of four in the past hour.

   Smoke cleared her throat, and began again, “Miss President, there is one recent issue that we, your loyal staff, would like you to address.” She slid the folder down the table in a single skilled motion, and Ameri turned and read the cover. Evidence #1, it said. 

   “Very well, —”

   It was Iruma's Sinstagram picture oh why was it here

   A small sonic boom sent her hair flying as Ameri slammed the folder shut, and her face burned from the many eyes upon her as well as the red-hot blush plain across her face. 

   Ameri attempted sounding poised and dignified, failed, and squeaked out, “Is there any issue with Mr. Suzuki?”

   A loud slap echoed through the room as Zagan Johnny Western’s palm met his forehead. “No, Miss President, it’s not him, it’s you!”

   Fighting for every ounce of dignity, she responded, “I beg your pardon, Mr. Johnny? 

   “You seriously don’t see the problem?” 

   “Wh-what problem!?”

   Smoke rapped her nails against the table, gaining the indignant Ameri’s attention. “That’s just fine, we called in Iruma to help explain the issue. He’s right outside.”

   A warbling cry fell from the Student Council President’s mouth as she stood up, blushing harder than before. Several sputtering noises later, she begged, “Is he really outside?”

   “No he is not,” Smoke replied neutrally.

   Ameri paused, betrayal all over her features. Busted.

   The girl forced herself to a somewhat respectable position, palms against the table and her head bowed. Johnny began again, even-toned and professional. “Point hopefully proven. Now, Miss President, we’ve discussed this matter of your crush Mr. Suzuki—”

   “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Ameri interrupted. Unfortunately, everyone in the room knew what Smoke was talking about, including her.

   “As I was saying, we were discussing your crush on Mr. Suzuki, and have determined it is indeed an issue, and one that needs urgent resolution.”

   She narrowed her eyes at him, regaining a bit of her intimidating edge, seeing as he immediately straightened his posture. “Assuming I do have a crush on Mr. Suzuki—”

   Everyone coughed.

   “—what I do with my private relationships is none of your business.”

   Johnny rebutted, “I respectfully disagree, Miss President. It becomes the Student Council’s business when it distracts you from our mission. Upholding the safety, strength, and dignity of this school if you can’t keep your focus the moment Mr. Suzuki enters the picture!”

   She leaned forward, back to stoic, dignified self in mere moments. “Even if that was true, I would never permit my judgement to be compromised by a simple, hormonal crush. I tolerate no weakness in this Council, least of all in myself.”

   Kimaris Quichelight’s phone chose that moment to buzz against the table, so he checked the screen and gasped. “Iruma just texted me. He says you’re really hot, Miss President!”

   After she recovered, Ameri’s head was already flat against the meeting table, so there she remained. The formerly-proud demoness simply brushed her hair back and accepted her defeat, but refused to verbally acknowledge any of them. Smoke chose that moment to stand and place a reassuring hand on Ameri’s shoulder, while Ronove razzled from the far side of the table, “OoooooOOOOOOOhhh! Miss Prez has a crush on Inigo!”

   “The ‘Shut Up’ hasn’t expired yet, Ronove!” Ameri scolded, mostly into the table, but loud enough to put some fear back into him. Or, maybe he switched to giggling, she couldn’t tell from down here. "...and his name is 'Iruma.'"

   “Miss President,” Johnny spoke, all business. “The rest of your loyal subordinates are strongly recommending one of two actions going forward. The first option: cease your pining for Iruma—”

   “Out of the question!” Ameri roared, incensed instead of abashed in a single second. Smoke pulled her hand back in surprise, while Ronove had already retreated under the meeting table.

   Yet Zagan Johnny Western remained unflappable. “—or you can show initiative as befitting your station, Miss President, and ask the boy out. ”

   “Also out of the question!” She roared again, this time incensed and abashed. “I-I just can’t ask him out, just like that! It’s more complicated, and you must understand, it... He... I’ve never— Gah!” She continued sputtering, as Smoke returned her hand to the larger girl’s shoulder. 

   “Listen, Ameri ...” she said sincerely, “We’re not just your ‘loyal subordinates.’ Remember, we’re your friends too. Everyone here’s been with you through thick and thin, even the guest assistants!” Smoke gave a little wave to the plainly-clothed student interns. They waved back, then returned to the background. 

   “And Ronove!” Ronove announced, puffing his chest out and smirking.

   “Yes, even Ronove!” Smoke agreed. Ronove mistook it for a compliment and beamed proudly. 

   The pink-haired demoness continued, “The point is, your friends on the Student Council only want what’s best for you. Now, really, we want to know: what’s been stopping you from the simple solution?”

   Ameri released a small sigh. “It’s complicated, Miss Smoke.”

   Smoke smirked, “It’s not because you don’t know how to ask, right?”

   “Did someone ask for a DEMONSTRATION!?” To her horror, the voice was Ronove's.

   Everyone quickly blurted “No!” Yet everyone was too late. In a burst of cologne and skinny leather jeans, the entirety of Ronove was on the table, sliding forward and knocking over drinks, papers, laptops, like a bare-chested wrecking ball. The demon stopped just before the bewildered President and assistant, a mysteriously-acquired rose clenched between his teeth, and quickly took Ameri’s hands into his. Somewhere behind him, a harp trilled a tune 

   “Fair Lady Ameri, Ronove begs you! Please, please make him the happiest demon in the Netherworld and go out with him!”

   Predictably, Ameri yanked her hands away, once she judged there was nothing to gain from the exchange. He got the message, and as Ronove’s world shattered into a million pieces again, she added another tick to her mental tally.

   The determined demon playboy reconstituted his broken heart in record time, staring smokily at Smoke and purring, “My dear Lady Smoke, will you do—”

   “Also no.” She didn’t even let him finish. Six, Ameri counted.

   Flabbergasted at the obvious outcome, he splattered spread-eagle atop the meeting table, like a murder victim slain by love of over-acting. One of the guest interns spoke up from the far side of the table, “I’ll go out with you, Ronove!”

   “Named characters only!” He yelled back, then shut his eyes and returned to his martyrdom.

   A collective moment of blessed silence passed, and Quichelight finally spoke up. “Asking people out is really simple, Miss President!” The blonde boy offered. “Everyone overthinks it, you see. You just need to be bold, act friendly, and go for it! Like this!”

   He turned to Johnny at his side. “Johnny, want to go out with me?”

   Completely deadpan, Johnny returned, “I thought you would never ask. Of course I will.”

   “See! Hope you’re taking notes, Miss President!” He beamed at his co-councilor. “Wanna step outside and kiss a bunch, Johnny-boy?”

   He rolled his eyes. “Sure.”

   Despite herself, Ameri cracked a smile at the little demonstration her subordinates improvised, then her eyes widened as Johnny and Quichelight actually stood up, grabbed their counterpart’s hands, and walked out the door. Ameri pressed a hand to her temple in confusion, and gaped. “What?”

   Smoke turned to her, popping a nonchalant grin. “See? Easy? Think you can pull that off”

   “Are Johnny and Quiche... That was improvised, right? I mean, having I been missing something for a year and a half?”

   “Uh uh.” She snapped her fingers, regaining Ameri’s attention. “Today’s meeting is about you, not them. So tell me, really, what’s stopping you from asking Iruma out? We love that lil’ cutie, too. He was a great Student Councilmember. Plus, just about every guy and a lot of the girls at Babyls would scream ‘Yes, please!’ the moment you bothered to ask for a date. Heck, prom’s coming up and I can’t wait for all that kindling to be mailed in.”

   Ameri elected to stop mulling over her subordinate’s thing(???) for now, folding her hands together and frowning. “I was being serious when I said it’s complicated with Iruma.”

   Smoke leaned in, eager to dole out reassurances. “Why, Ameri? Is it because you’re afraid of being turned down when you put your heart on the line?”

   “Or perhaps,” Ronove emerged from his chrysalis of heartbreak, like the Netherworld’s shiniest, loudest butterfly. “Because you’re a tarrasque in the body of a beautiful lady and Iruma is cute but so, so frail, and you’re afraid you'll crush his head between your thighs like a melon!”

   “Oooor maybe Miss President just wants to let him express interest too, cuz she knows Iruma can’t say no to requests and she don’t want to pressure him into a relationship?”

   “Or, it’s because the President is a GIANT WOMAN, and he is so tiny, they wouldn’t be able to kiss without a stepladder!”

   Having enough, Ameri slammed her palms against the table, hard. She saw Ronove seesawed straight into the ceiling, an unexpected benefit in her opinion. She clenched her fist as she clarified, “No, it’s because—”

   The girl barely stopped herself from blurting, because Iruma’s a human and I’m a demon and I’m terrified someone else will find out and either eat him or send him away forever. She grit her teeth and exhaled the rest of her breath, verbally stumbling before backtracking. The Student Council President feigned stunned concession, just as she’d been doing this entire meeting. Yet, she didn’t exactly lie when she said “It’s... one of those things you just said...”

   “Listen, Ameri,” Ronove echoed from above. “Love is strange. Love is cruel, it’s hard, it’s unforgiving. But love is beautiful, wild and uncontrollable, Ameri! It drives the toughest of demons to tears, it can heal the most broken of souls, and those that feel its pull will wage war against the impossible, and win! I sincerely believe in the power of love, and I know that deep in your heart, you believe in it too!”

   The Student President paused, looking up at the pinnacle of flamboyance embedded in the stones above, with a mixture of surprise and cautious admiration. “I knew I kept you around for a reason, Ronove. Where’d that sudden wisdom come from?”

   He grinned proudly, “Ronove found it on Sinstagram!”

   Ameri’s head met the table, and she groaned. How’d she miss that many cliches in a single paragraph?

   The sound of a door closing drew the room’s attention. In stepped Mr. Guison Sunny Grave, sporting a confused expression. “Sorry I’m late. Now, can anyone please explain why Johnny and Quiche are making out in the hallway?”

Chapter Text

   Another month, another budget request. Once again, Iruma volunteered to deliver the paperwork to the Student Council, along with a personal letter to the President from the Battler’s third-year, Elicos Schnell. Running into the President would be a nice bonus, but for the past few days she’d been leaving early, so dropping the documents in the Council’s mail slot would suffice.

   Except, it wouldn’t. As Iruma rounded the corner, he could see the mailbox was completely packed full of letters, spilling into heaps of paper just below. The schoolboy stopped, taking stock of the misshapen menagerie of mail, noting the unusual amount of the papers coming in red, pink, baby yellow, or  simply arranged in heart-shapes. 

   Iruma weighed between wiggling his own letters into the abomination or simply finding someone to help, but circumstance made the decision for him when Astaroth Smoke stepped through the chamber door, peered at the mailbox, and sighed. The pink-haired demon still managed a friendly smile when she noticed Iruma. “Good to see you, Mr. Suzuki. Dropping off some mail today?”

   “Trying to, at least.” Iruma rubbed the back of his neck as Smoke approached the mess. “Did I miss a school memo or something?”

   She blinked. “You don’t know? Actually, that’s a good thing. Now, here, is that the MagiApp budget form? Let me take care of that for you, you get to skip this mess. Special former-Student Council privilege.”

   “Thank you very much, Miss Astaroth.” He handed the folder over, also offering the letter accompanying it. Hmm, it looked a lot less bulky from the top. “This too, it’s a letter from Schnell. ‘Priority Correspondence: Student Council President Eyes Only.’”

   At the first syllable of Schnell’s name, Smoke grimaced. The demoness grabbed the letter and immediately sliced the top open with her nail. Over Iruma vocal objections, she read the ‘priority message’ aloud.

   “To the noble Azazel Ameri, Eureka! I, Elicos Schneell, have scientifically proven that I am the only logical choice as your date for the Beelze-Ball, detailed over the next twenty-five pages—”

   Having enough, the tips of the paper started to smolder in a neon cyan glow, and in moments Smoke sent the proposal, well, up in smoke. She sported a grin as she blew the vapors away, and started to reach down again.

   Iruma couldn’t believe that Schnell would— no, no, Schnell definitely would. As helpful as the third-year could be, his obsession with Ameri started out as creepy and hardly improved, and he definitely needed a reminder about acceptable behavior. 

   Realization settled in, as Smoke continued to examine and burn the colored notes, stopping only for the rare genuine correspondence. He asked, “So, are these all...”

   “Hopeless love letters? Almost all of them, yes.”

   His chest suddenly felt... tense. Strange. “...and they’re all for Ameri, aren’t they?”

   “Yep. You think this is insane? Last year even worse, while our future Miss Prez was shooting up the ranks. Absolutely every hopeless suitor was fighting over her. I swear, every other night was like Conquest Day... So, after the tenth hospitalization, Miss President declared she’ll only be wooed through written love letters delivered before important school dances, just so every womanizer keeps it in their pants the rest of the time.”

   Something about the whole situation made Iruma feel uneasy. “Even so, isn’t it... wrong? Burning them without Ameri even reading them? Some of these people might actually have a crush on Ameri.”

   “With the hundreds of schmucks the President suffered through already? Hardly.” Smoke answered. She picked up a particularly flowery package, scanned the name, then burned the note while helping herself to the candies within. “Taking these chocolates may be wrong though. Maybe. Mmm! This ‘Eiko Oni’ knows her sweets.”

   For some reason, seeing the letter burn, another suitor offered no quarter, gave him a sliver of satisfaction. The guilt that followed afterwards drowned it out, however. “Still...”

   The demoness eyed him curiously. “What, worried one of these guys might actually win her heart?’

   When it took a brief pause for the suddenly-blushing Iruma to start protesting, Smoke’s smirk grew into an impish grin. “Woah, woah, Mr. Suzuki, are you actually a bit jealous...?”

   “No, no!” He denied, ignoring the nagging unease in his chest. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt jealous, like, ever!”

    Would I even know what it felt like, then? This sensation was unfamiliar, unwelcome. At that moment, Iruma wanted nothing more than to just head home and lie down. 

   Smoke waved her hands in apology. “Relax, I’m just teasing. If it was anyone but you, I’d doubt that claim. Though...” 

   She tapped her finger against her chin, and leaned in, “Something tells me Miss Prez wouldn’t say no if you asked her, Mr. Suzuki.”

   Iruma shook his head, his cheeks bright scarlet. “I’vegottagobyeMissAstaroth!” He turned and ran, with a maelstrom of emotions trailing behind.

Chapter Text

    It truly began as a regular reading session, although the selected chapter deviated greatly from the lighthearted manga’s typical fare. After so many sessions, Iruma’s refined his delivery to near-professional levels, and a riveted Ameri hung onto every word. Today covered the penultimate chapter of the Yakuza arc, where the dark past of Kakeru-kun’s family led to the poor boy’s abduction right before Rin’s terrified eyes. 

    Even the fictional stress proved too much to bear. As Iruma caught his breath between the pages, an unmistakable sniffle pulled him from the paper. His enthralled spectator clung to the edge of her seat yet already ventured past the verge of tears, with thin lines of mascara starting to spill down her cheeks. When Iruma pointed it out, she seemed more surprised than anything else.

    “Oh, it looks like I was more invested than I thought!” Ameri fanned her face to dry the running makeup, an excited smile plastered to her face. “Once again your delivery is breathtaking, Iruma.”

    The generous host smiled at his praises. “Don’t thank me,” he politely downplayed, “it’s the story! I loved this arc, my heart was racing the entire time. I couldn’t put it down at all!”

   “Heart-wrenching, yes, that’s the word!” She recovered slightly, giving a short embarrassed laugh. “My, this has never happened to me before. But of course it would, how terrifying! Kakeru-kun kidnapped, in mortal danger, and Rin doesn’t even know if she’ll—”

    Iruma saw Ameri chest lurch a bit. “— ever see him...”

    Her hand went to her temple, and her misty eyes fluttered closed. “To think— I... Ah.” She attempted a reassuring laugh, undone by the sharp, pained inhale at the end. 

    Then the girl’s composure left her entirely. She sputtered, only managing, “Forgive me, this...” She trailed off, as genuine tears began anew. 

    He was at her side immediately, a reassuring hand atop her forehead to give the strength for her to stand straight and look Iruma directly. As she sat, Iruma’s head finally matched the taller Ameri’s level, and he planned to make the most of it as he gently asked her, “Whats's wrong? Can I help?"

    “I’m fine, I’m fine,” the obviously-not-fine Ameri promised. Unfortunately, she sputtered through several excuses, none of which explained anything.  

    Without a hint of judgement, Iruma asked, “Was this scary for you, somehow?”

    “No, just a bit, it reminds me of...”

    She went quiet for a second, and then her arms went up and around, suddenly pulling him into a hug. The larger girl pressed her head into the crux of his shoulder, tears and makeup staining his uniform, as he gently patted her back. She mumbled a “thank you,” as her breath steadied itself.

    “Whatever it is, Ameri, it’s okay now.”

    Comfortable silence lingered between the two for a few minutes, until she finally found her words, all soft and vulnerable. 

    “I know you can keep your own, so I can tell you mine. My... Someone I care about deeply has a secret, a very big, very dangerous secret. If other demons found out, they would take him away, or hurt him, or worse.”

   Was she talking about ...

   “If that would happen, I’d never see that perfect smile of his any more. He couldn’t ever come cheer me up after a long day of Council duties, and I couldn’t ever again be proud of him when he soars through the ranks like I know he will.”

    “...Is that’s why the manga bothered you, Ameri? You feel like Miss Rin, right?”

    She nodded. Despite the boy’s usual density, it all clicked at that moment. Iruma tightened his hug, and her horns wiggled once, twice, tickling his ear. For a brief moment, it felt like his heart was beating faster.

    Eventually, their embrace slackened. Ameri began to lean back, before suddenly changing her mind and tightening her arms around him. Caught again, Iruma offered another reassurance. “Do you need a few minutes more?”

   “No... I just need to know... You’ve already read the rest of First Love Memories right?”

    “Well yeah, but, I promised not to tell any spoilers.”

    “I don’t care about that anymore.” He blinked in surprise, and her tears ran freely again. “I  need to know what happens...If—When he’s taken away, will she ever meet him again?”

   Iruma grabbed her hand and squeezed. “He comes back for her.”

   “You promise?”

   “I promise.” 

Chapter Text

   So many things weighed on Azazel Ameri. The reputation of the Student Council, academic stress, her peer’s expectations, the weight of her bloodline, the secrets she held close to her heart and threw away the key... Yet, for one glorious hour after first returning home, Ameri dealt with none of those. The teenager could draw a bath, add some bubbles in while playing some wonderful smooth jazz records, then just sit and soak and read a fashion magazine like a damn normal demon teenager for once. No matter the length of the day, a soothing bubblebath washed sweat, grime, stress, and worries right down the drain.  

   Ameri knew the Netherworld demanded perfection from her, and she rose to the challenge, but perfection took a lot of work. Even after her skincare routine, hair care, mana re-attunement re and general de-stressing, her lengthy and lovely crimson hair demanded further attention. 

   Finishing wrapping her long mane, Ameri stood tall, so tall, she needed two towels to cover herself. But she wasn’t self-conscious about it. Definitely not.

   Nor was she self-conscious about the bra lazily thrown over her bed, the plain black thing. She still had a trainer bra somewhere, obviously nowhere near her current size but the adorable little floral pattern gave it sentimental value. If the stores sold cute undergarments with her measurements, they might actually be worn when she was safe and alone. 

   Since the Netherworld was cruel and unfair, Ameri instead chose to live freely for as long as she could manage. The teen dropped her chest towel and rummaged for the comfiest, largest tee she owned. 

   Her phone buzzed and danced a little tune on her vanity. Normally, she wouldn’t spare it another thought for another twenty-seven minutes, but for Iruma’s  distinct ringtone, she always had the time. Ameri paused her search and picked it up, reading the text he sent her.

   at the mall today. want me to buy you something?

   She cracked a smile as she sat down. Always caring, always thoughtful. Her burgeoning crush couldn’t have been on a better de... on a better person, even if his generosity could be simply too much.

   I’m fine. I couldn’t never ask that of you, but I'm happy you thought of me.

   It was just two sentences, but Ameri felt immensely proud of herself. 

   Last week she developed a successful strategy to avoid collapsing into a puddle of hormonal demoness at the sight or mention of her crush. She would smile, thank him, and commit his latest good deed or kind word to memory. Then, late at night, the teen would unbottle everything, let her once-timid fantasies run wild, and then pick the pieces afterwards. She needed a long-term solution, sure, but in her mind he was the long-term solution anyway.

   Her phone buzzed again. don’t worry. grandpa spoiling me again. buying gifts for my friends was his idea.

   “In that case...” Ameri looked up, eyeing her many cosmetics strewn about her vanity ledge. Amazing just how much makeup, foundation, and whatnot everyday female living required, even just for the “natural” look she preferred. Having a few extra wouldn’t hurt, and a few from Iruma specifically felt like a perfect gift.

   Ameri started listing the specific names before giving up. A picture would be quicker, and so she leaned down snapped a shot with the most important ones’ logos visible. Sending it to Iruma, she followed it with a text:

   If that’s alright! Could you get some of these makeup brands? Don’t go overboard, Iruma ;)

   Was the winky face too much? No, it didn’t hurt to be a little casual with such a close friend. Iruma didn’t seem to mind, anyway. He responded ‘thumbs up’ to the photo, texting back, Okay!

   Ameri removed her hair towel, retrieved her comb and hair dryer, and went to work. Yet, she barely even plugged the dryer in before her phone buzzed again.

   All Iruma’s text read was I’M SORRY!!! 

   The girl put the dryer down, reopening the text log. Even after a minute of scrutinizing, nothing they texted had seemed to warrant this reaction. Perplexed, she texted him back.

   Iruma, what’s wrong?

   Did you mean to send me that???

   Ameri zoomed in on the photo she sent. “What does he mean...?”

   Everything seemed in order. Sure, a few of the brand names were cut off, but the surface was relatively clean, and the reflection...

  The mirror.

   Everything below her chin was clearly visible in the photo, including her breasts that Iruma had definitely just seen by accident. She accidentally set her crush a photo of her boobs Oh Devil Oh Devil

   Ameri shrieked, uselessly throwing the hair towel over her torso again, then sent the boy a panicked text in all caps, DELETE THAT PHOTO IMMEDIATELY!!! 

   Yet the damage seemed done, and her head swam and her cheeks were on fire and Ameri begged for the sweet release of death at the moment. Well, death right after she saw his confirmation.

   The teenager hastily checked the text log again. “Still on read!?” She screamed, and sent him another text, IRUMA, TELL ME YOU DELETED IT.

   10 seconds. No response. IRUMA.

   30 seconds more. IRUMA.

   An entire minute. IRUMA, ANSWER ME.

   Five minutes of pure anxiety later, Ameri surrendered to her dismay, and threw herself into her pillow’s embrace. 

   Her overactive imagination went into overdrive, nightmare possibilities invading the poor girl’s mind. She shuddered at image of the Student Council removing her over the scandal, or maybe Iruma calling her a perv and a harlot and blocking her, or her father finding out and subsequently hurling her phone into the sun, which Ameri honestly believed he could do.

   Yet, most embarrassing was the thoughts that also slipped in and brought heat to more than just her face. Thoughts like I hope he liked them and we’ve skipped a few stages but that’s okay. Shaking her head didn’t clear her mind of those shameful desires at all, and they only multiplied as more moments passed.  

   The box full of disaster vibrated on her vanity again, rescuing Ameri from her dread thoughts. A few moments to build her confidence, and the girl shot out, grabbed at it, and retreated back to her soft silken sanctuary. She winced, worried at what letters would appear on her screen.

   Deleted. Safe. 

   Her sigh of relief felt like the best damn air she’d ever breathed.

   sorry for the wait. Had to escape the shop and grandpa and opera before i could open phone again.

   Hands shaking, yet feeling relief beyond belief, she texted him back. thank you so much iruma that was a total accident i swear

   no worries. accidents happen! Iruma responded. Her breathing returned to normal, and sanity returned to silence her panicked worries. Of course, it was Iruma of all people who she was fretting over. Iruma, the kindest, most considerate, and most understanding person she knew. If her friend said he deleted the photo, then he did, and that was that. Besides if there was anyone the proud demoness would permit— dammit, I’m doing it again. A blush returned to Ameri’s cheeks, yet she needed to settle a final concern. 

   Nobody else saw anything right? She texted.

   No. Just me.

   Good. Ameri’s hand immediately slapped her temple, and she quickly rattled off, i meant it’s good that only one person saw it

   that exactly what I thought too

   correct thank you again for being so understanding iruma.

   Ameri paused, blushing harder, as the naughty thoughts grew stronger. She fought as best she could, but before she knew it, her treacherous fingers already typed out, would you like a proper picture instead Iruma? A thumb hovered over the send button, poised to catapult her over the point of no return.

   Luckily, her decency regained just enough control to push her thumb over to the ‘erase’ button instead, saving her dignity from risqué ruin. “Bad Ameri, bad Ameri,” she muttered, letting all the scandalous heat radiate away from her poor, hormonal body. Still, she figured Iruma probably noticed the ‘typing’ status, and so expected an answer. Ameri typed out, I know that I can count on you. 

   She then immediately crawled into that comfy giant t-shirt that could have prevented this entire mess, threw her face into a pillow, and screamed.

Chapter Text

   The four present members of the Student Council shared a nod. Zagan Johnny Western, Kimaris Quichelight, Guison Sunny Grave, and Astaroth Smoke simultaneously donned a pair of black sunglasses and turned to the ballroom doors. The sunglasses came off immediately afterwards, since they didn’t exactly match their party-appropriate attire, but the aura of pure professionalism remained as they pushed the doors open and melted into the crowd.  

   Smoke tapped at the earring, activating the sending charm concealed within. “This is Smoke, give me a sendings check.”

   “Sunny, check,” Sunny replied coolly.

   “Quiche, checking!” Quichelight yipped.

   “Act professional, Quiche!” Johnny chastised, rather  unprofessionally. “Also, check.”

   “Ronove is checking in!” A dramatic aria sang over the sending stone, somehow with a harp behind it. Smoke’s expression turned sour, scaring a retinue of students away, and she groaned again.

   “Ronove, where the hell are you?” Smoke barked. “First you butt into our operation, and then you can’t be bothered to show up.”

   “Let me assure you, I AM here, Miss Astaroth. ...Ronove is just still getting ready, is all.”

   “Whatever. Just don’t screw it up by, you know, being you.”

   “Professionalism, please,” Sunny reminded. Smoke rolled her eyes, but he was right, so she set off to her designated objective.

   Compared to other events like prom, the Babyls’ Beezleball was a subdued affair. Different circles rotated and occasionally intermingled between those dancing, those socializing, those just here for the food. With fewer than a hundred students in attendance, the Student Council and alongside a few of the more agreeable teachers  more than had the situation handled, both the before and afters. Yet, it was the “during” which the four— five, tecnhically— were concerned with. 

   Smoke spotted her mark. The poor girl, completely surrounded and yet all alone.

   Quichelight and Johnny found theirs as well. The blonde demon called in, “Objective found. Holding!”

   “Roger. Target in sight. Operation: Tender Dream is a go.” Smoke smirked again. 

   “Ronove is wondering why you are not using his excellent naming suggestion instead.”

   Smoke spat into the sender, “It’ll be a cold day in the ninth circle before I’ll call this plan ‘Juggernaut Gigolo, Ronove!” 

   “But it’s true, and it’s alliterative! Ronove respects repetition!”

   “How about we call it ‘Operation: Shut Up And Do Your Job,” Sunny jumped in. Smoke grit her teeth, that sparkly loon could get under her skin way too easily. At least the next step would be simple.

   She found the Student Council President alone for yet another school function. Ameri leaned against a standing table populated by chatting school officials, surveying the crowd for trouble, excellently hiding the solitude that finally dug under her skin. It hurt to look at, even if she didn’t hurt to look at. Gradient shadow from red to shimmering purple, scarlet lips, hints of glitter freckles all over, even in her signature hair. Her long strands hung straight, framing the starry black of her long, sleeveless dress, ending just before the leg slit of the garment just in case trouble dared approach her.

   Up until recently, that aura was an asset instead of a roadblock. To Smoke, Ameri looked too beautiful. Intimidatingly gorgeous. So many eyes surreptitiously turned her way, then turned away again, judging themselves with nothing worth offering. Unlike those schmucks, Smoke knew the perfect little lady’s little secret: that underneath the curves and radiance was a complete dork. All she had to do was bring that dork out.

   She made her move, standing beside the bored-looking Ameri and perusing the crowd. “Another day, another dance, right Miss President?”

   “Indeed,” she replied neutrally. 

   “No incidents to report, and your ‘fans’ are accounted for. I’d say everything is going perfectly, no?”

   Smoke caught the edges of her lips turning downward, just for a moment, but it confirmed that Ameri was lying when she agreed. Now was the time to act. 

   “I know that mingling usually isn’t your thing, Miss President, but... how about tonight, we swap places? Just take me out for a dance or two, then I’ll handle the boring parts for the rest of the evening,” the schemer offered, still holding her secret weapon in reserve. 

   Ameri raised an eyebrow, smart enough to suspect her subordinate was pulling something, but then she looked out to the festivities, and the bright lights and students laughing together...

   Meanwhile, Johnny and Quiche honed in on their own objective, among the throng of dancefloor demons. Both balked as they got a proper view of their blue-haired boy, fearing they may already have been too late. 

   At one point, Iruma may have been enjoying himself dancing, but now took part in a game of tug-of-war between his two constant companions, playing the part of the rope. Both Clara and Asmodeus grabbed an arm and pulled, threatening to tear the boy’s dapper baby-blue tuxedo, simultaneously dancing vastly different styles while shooting daggers at each other. Iruma seemed to have given up on talking them down, merely contorting his body to avoid dislocation.

   Smoke’s voice came in over the chaos. “The Queen is on her way.”

   Johnny and Quichelight met each other gazes, and nodded. They knew what needed to happen.

   When the music’s tempo increased, they jumped into action. Hand in hand, they fearlessly tangoed right into the center of the modest horde of dancers, then turned back-to-back, unleashing friendly invitations to jive alongside the Student Council bachelors. Once their demons were grooving, they switched to another, paired the previous off, and continued to move, causing an eventual chain reaction of swinging imps that eventually reached their true target. They caught sight of each other, then twisted, turned, and gamboled back into each other’s arms.

   “Where’d you learn to dance like that, Johnny-boy?” Quichelight asked.

   “I’m a man of many secrets,” he replied, somehow emotionless and evasive. Quichelight cracked a smile, as the two sidestepped their way to Iruma.

   Flawlessly, they broke apart and pushed themselves right into Iruma’s arms. Surprised, his compatriot’s briefly loosened their grips, and the Student Councilors pulled and spun and created some distance in an instant, Quichelight handling Clara while Johnny took Asmodeus. A few seconds of befuddlement came over Asmodeus, before the pink-haired demon furrowed his brow. 

   “Zagan.”

   “Asmodeus.”

   “If you wanted a dance, you should have asked me.” Asmodeus matched Johnny’s every move, the pink-haired prodigy formally in the nobles’’ waltz, unlike himself. Yet, while the music set the tempo, Johnny controlled the direction of their dance.

   “I doubt that would have worked, by my estimation. I needed your attention, and Mister Iruma needed a break.”

   “What Master Iruma needs is a decent dance partner! And I must get back to him, if he’s stuck with...” Asmodeus seethed, “... Clara . That maniac is probably demanding that he ‘default dance’ or whatever she called it!”

   Smoke rolled his eyes. “Goodness, you’re clingier than Johnny.”

   Speaking of Johnny...

   Clara’s short temper nearly burst at being pulled away from her very best friend in the whole wide Netherworld. Fortunately, Quichelight knew her attention span was even shorter than that, and capitalized on it.

   “Hey there Clara! Iruma told me all about you, how you’re the best at having a good time.”

   Her grumpiness turned to excitement. “Irumakins said that?”

   “Yep!” His grin matched Clara’s in size, a challenge long thought impossible. “I love having fun too, so I figured I gotta see if Mister Iruma was telling the truth.”

   Clara ceased her wiggling and gaped. “You want to have fun ? With me?” She eagerly awaited a confirmation.

   Quichelight nodded. “Sure,” the fool replied, sealing his fate. He did manage to shoot a celebratory look to Johnny, who still struggled to gain Asmodeus’ full attention.

   The two dapper demons danced back and forth, expertly and subtly alternating leading versus following roles. Asmodeus shifted towards where he believed Iruma to be, Johnny directly opposite. Formal as always but with decreasing patience, Asmodeus politely stated, “It’s been fun, Johnny, but I need to get back to Master Iruma now.”

   “That’s why I sought you out, Asmodeus. In a short while, Mr. Suzuki will soon be in grave danger, and I need your help to keep him protected.”

   Asmodeus’ eyes widened, but their waltz continued uninterrupted. “Explain, good sir.”

   “Perfect. Now keep your composure, and listen...”

   A few moments prior, Iruma had found himself suddenly alone, buffeted, and thoroughly confused. Then, a solid mass impacted him from behind, and he turned.

   “Mister Guison?” Iruma recognized his former Student Council comrade, his distinct black jawline marks visible even in the shifting lighting.

   “Come with me if you want to live.” Sunny offered his hand, absolute determination on his face.

   Iruma chuckled nervously. “Do you mean ‘live’ in an ‘enjoy yourself’ way or a ‘literally dying’ way?”

   “Yes.”

   Iruma gulped.  

   At the same time, Smoke dragged Ameri by her hand over to the dance floor, put the President’s hand on her shoulder and started swaying before she could object. Ameri reluctantly conceded, sashaying with her subordinate in an orderly grove. Majestically tall as always, keeping someone with her range of vision distracted proved difficult, but the right swinging of hips, steps, and turns kept Ameri occupied. Taking advantage of the music shifting to a higher energy song, Smoke touched her sender again, quickly reporting. “Queen has arrived.”

   “What was that, Miss Astaroth?” Ameri asked, properly suspicious.

   “Me wanna jive.” Smoke covered, prompting an eyebrow raise. Fortunately, the schemer heard the replies coming in.

   “King secured,” Sunny reported.

   “Rook recruited,” Johnny responded.

   “Johnny! Oh devil, help me! Help meeee! Johnyyyyy!” 

   An audible sigh cut through the screaming, and Johnny clarified, “Bishop occupied. Stage 2 begins now.”

   The shindig sped up, hooves started grooving, the hall of damned began properly jamming. Yet the chaos didn’t distract the four Councilors from their true task. In fact, their ultimate goal grew closer within their grasp, just as Smoke and Sunny grasped their unwitting partners’ hands and subtly moved them closer to the center. They both briefly released their partner and spun, confirming their counterpart’s location, then stepped their steps up even further. Left, right, back, left, right, back, back again. Then, when the ripples of Johnny and Quiche’s patterned performance became the predicted parting, Smoke and Sunny spun. Ameri and Iruma were pulled along, then the councilors’ hands pulled back, leaving them with only their momentum.

   Their King and Queen collided in the center of the dance floor, just as planned. 

   Both look stunned, absolutely surprised, furiously blushing as they drank in the other’s presence. The red giant towered above her crush, yet the look she gave Iruma shone of bedazzled shyness, while he returned Ameri a look of bashful wonder. They both hadn’t moved an inch, but luckily their hands already found each other, and eventually they realized it too. 

   The music finally made its move, prompting Iruma to do the same. The smaller boy gave an even smaller curtsy, and Ameri gave the smallest of sheepish nods, and finally the two finally began their long duet.

   While the ring of dancing demons continued, quite a few of them stopped to gape. A student had seemingly won a dance with the notoriously aloof President Azazel, and at a glance she looked completely captivated. The present Councilmembers admired their handiwork for but a moment.

   “Begin Stage 3. Now’s where the hard part begins,” Smoke muttered into the sender. Simultaneously, Smoke and Sunny snapped their fingers and shimmied their way into the shadows. 

   Johnny tore his eyes from the sight of Ameri living out her wildest dreams, turning to Asmodeus with a grim look on his face. Asmodeus seemed a bit shocked, stunned, and tears forming at the edge of his eyes. He sniffled, and then broke into a captivated smile. “Iruma, sir... you’ve conquered the Student Council President. Today, Babyls! Tomorrow, all of the Netherworld! ” 

   The Student Council President’s loyal subordinate scowled. The nerve of this demon! It’s the other way around, sycophant! Still, his delusions made the next task easier, and Johnny brusquely shook Asmodeus’ shoulder.

   “Stop fawning. You look ridiculous. Now remember, this the part where Mr. Suzuki is in trouble.”

   The warning broke the enchantment over the pink-haired demon, and he nodded affirmatively. Johnny pointed to a student.

   “Look at the mini-minotaur there. What do you see?”

   Asmodeus followed the bespectacled Councilor’s gaze, at a bull-headed student just under his own height. He stamped his hooves, nostrils flaring, and his smoky eyes burned a familiar combination of emotions. Determination and deviousness. This man had a plan, and was definitely not afraid to use violence to achieve it, as any proper demon such as himself would.

   “I see him,” Asmodeus replied. 

   Johnny nodded. “Can you tell who he’s about to attack?”

   Asmodeus followed the Minitaur’s malicious gaze to... “Iruma!?”

   “Exactly. Every one of her jealous suitors knows Ameri is out of reach. But the cute little boy who she’s dancing with looks to be fair game, and if they take him down, those blockheads think they have a chance again.”

   “But wouldn’t the President just annihilate anyone who tried?” Asmodeus asked, slightly confused.

   “But it would also ruin the mood.” Johnny shot a glance at the two dancers in question, his mouth unnaturally contorting into a genuine smile at their combined cuteness. “And that would be unforgivable. Luckily, since they literally mailed their names in, we know exactly who to watch. Now, look again.”

   Asmodeus did so, looking at the Minitaur right as he started to move towards the dancing dynamic duo. A pale hand came and karate chopped the neck of the trouble student, and he collapsed into Guison Sunny Grave’s arms. He was too far away to catch what Sunny said to the single onlooker that noticed, but Asmodeus was definitely the only one who noticed the Councilor drag his unconscious body away and stash it underneath the punch table. 

   He nodded at Johnny. The Student Council’s justice was swift, surgical, and efficient. Iruma’s fun night of dancing was in good hands. “I see. How can I help?”

   “I knew you would understand. See that blonde-haired demon there, with the sour expression? We start by subtly waltzing over there...”

   Ameri’s father drilled her well, but the girl had only practiced in the smaller partner’s position, which was logistically impossible with Iruma. Iruma himself had zero training, and simply attempted whatever came naturally. Venturing into uncharted territory, they simply clasped hands and moved their bodies together, finding a harmony that was equal parts chaotic and wholesome.

   Their now-steady rhythm captivated their onlookers, which helped their supporter’s actions go unnoticed. As a duo, Johnny and Asmodeus slyly approached any student who approached with a gleam in their eye and a weapon under their jacket, and danced in their personal space until they corralled them Smoke’s awaiting fists. Sunny moved in and out of the crowd, felling and extracting anyone who slipped past the first line of defense, excusing collapsed or paralyzed students with just an intimidating look. Their efforts worked too. All Iruma and Ameri noticed was each other and the music, and for the 

   Quiche occasionally screamed into the sender, letting the others know he had the situation handled. 

   Guison subtly pulled a sabotaged corsage off of Iruma just as subtly as it had been placed, attaching it to the back of Elicos Schnell just before it exploded. He checked Schnell’s name off his mental list, cross-referenced it with the others he witnessed neutralized, then tapped on his sender. “Objective complete. All troublemakers disposed of.”

   Smoke pumped her fist, having found yet another exciting use for fake school plants. Smaller demons can fit excellently inside the pot. “Excellent. Stage 3 complete. Good work, everyone. Now we can sit back and enjoy the party — wait, wait, who the hell is walking across the gym stage?”

   Sunny furrowed his brow, but then didn’t, easily identifying the individual due to all the shiny objects attached to their outfit. “It’s Ronove. He’s carrying a vinyl record.”

   “Ronove?! What is he doing?”

   “This!” Ronove responded to the sender, as he grabbed the microphone. The audacious demon raised the record to his head level, then dragged a nail across it, making his own scratching vinyl soundtrack as the music simultaneously cut out, because of course he would. In less than three seconds, every single eye in the room was upon him.

   “DID SOMEONE CALL FOR STAGE FOUR ?”

   “Noooooo!” Every student council cried, but once again it was useless. 

   The lights dimmed, and a spotlight shone on the lone demon. Suddenly, there was a guitar in his hands, and then Ronove unleashed himself upon the world.

   The last thing Smoke consciously remembered was the inexplicable fireworks, and everything afterwards was an epic rock rock ballad-induced blur. Ronove belted a riff, a surprisingly good riff, and then his sublime singing began. The women of the stadium screamed, Smoke included, not because it hurt but because it was amazing and she hated herself for enjoying it. There were confetti cannons, there were long solos, spirits rose from their graves to provide backup vocals. Ronove had torn off his clothes three times, each time revealing another shinier suit underneath. At the risk of sounding overdramatic, the Netherworld would never be the same for any of the demons in audio range, as they would each carry a nagging sense of emptiness every time they heard a song that was not Ronove . 

   Smoke had no idea how long she rocked her little demon heart out, but her next conscious memory had her pinning Ronove to the floor after the rock concert ended, yelling in his face. “You! Beautiful! IDIOT!”

   “Ronove will not apologize for art!” He screamed defiantly, even as his body cowered.

   “Your performance, which I’ll admit was the second coming of Delkira in the form of a music venue, still utterly demolished our perfectly crafted plan! Hell, we even lost track of the tallest damn person in the room, thanks to your shenanigans! We have no idea where the President or Iruma is right now!”

   “First off, Miss Smoke, it was a single shenanigan! Second, our plan worked perfectly!”

   Smoke hefted him upward by his bedazzled collar, eyeing him suspiciously. “Please, please prove me wrong.”

   Ronove gave a smug, smarmy smile, his default punchable expression, “Oh yes, you didn’t notice because you lost your focus, you silly girl—”

   Smoke growled.

   “—but Ronooove did!~ On stage, he saw perfectly how Miss Ameri and Iluma made good their escape from the whole ruckus. Shame though, that was a damn good performance too, and she might actually gain some appreciation—”

   The pink demoness released his collar, sending the flamboyant little flomp tumbling on his rear. Yet, Smoke grinned. Despite everything, despite Ronove , the student council completed their objectives. The Student Council President could figure it out later, or she could not, but her friend was enjoying her evening with her beau, and that’s all her loyal subordinate cared about.

   Sliding on those dark sunglasses of hers, she strode out of the ballroom doors, preparing to clean up the worthwhile mess

   Johnny, once blissfully floating through glam rock nirvana, awoke on the packed gymnasium floor thanks to a continuous tapping on his skull. He opened his eyes and adopted his typical look of nonchalance, seeing Clara Valac standing above him with a stick.

   She dropped the stick and tapped her fingers together, nervously. “Hey, Mr. Cowboy?”

   “Zagan Johnny Western.”

   “Yeah, you. Um, Quiche told me that ‘if he didn’t make it, to tell Jonny how much he loved him.’”

   “I see. Did Quichelight make it?”

   Valac averted her eyes, muttering guiltily, “Not exactly...”

   Johnny groaned. “Tell him that I love him too, but to also stop being such a baby. Goodbye.” He shut his eyes, hoping to hear one more glorious guitar solo.

Chapter Text

    Eiko Oni’s miserable luck seemed determined to ruin yet another fun evening. Eiko was late, she was frazzled, she felt awful how her friends arrived at the Beelzeball without her, since she had to text them not to worry and go ahead anyway because it was the polite thing to do. Worst of all, the water fountain malfunctioned just as the schoolgirl took a drink to steady her nerves, soaking her cute white dress’ top thoroughly. She was in the midst of a frustrated dash to the ladies’ room hand dryer, when the door to the ballroom burst open, sending a sudden blast of glam-rock guitar down the hallway. 

    Since Eiko’s terrible luck continued, the two demons exiting were of course Azazel Ameri and Suzuki Iruma, the two people she simply couldn’t allow to see in her state. She put a hand over her mouth and darted behind a pillar, desperately hoping they didn’t see her in time. 

    They passed by without a glance.

    Yet, Eiko couldn’t help but notice that Miss Ameri strode in front, pulling Iruma along. She shot a glance to the Beelzebub Ballroom, then one another at her crushes leaving it. The choices were clear: boring party, or the two most interesting people at Babyls. 

    Did she say “choices?” There was only one choice.

    Like the world’s least effective ninja, Eiko snuck from cover to cover, effortlessly trailing the two departing demons who actually seemed oddly focused on each other. She paused out of cover to think why that could be, her extensive imagination throwing theory after theory before she realized Mister Iruma and Miss Ameri were about to exit the building.

    After she found a perfect snooping spot, her jaw dropped as she witnessed the incredible sight of Miss Ameri spreading her wings. Eiko needed a deep breath. Her wings were huge , taller than Miss Ameri herself, and as black as the midnight sky. They were big, but strong and supple and graceful just like her, nothing like Eiko’s more typical wings, and they were glorious and she imagined touching them—

    Which Mister Iruma just did, ooh yes he did, by accident probably as they faced one another. Miss Ameri and Iruma made eye contact, exchanging a look Eiko knew must be filled with longing, and then...

    “Now kiss,” Eiko whispered to herself, not quite realizing where it came from.

    They did not kiss. 

     Instead, Miss Ameri’s wings began beating, sending ripples down her shimmering dress, and Eiko only stopped gaping long enough to remember to tail them when they took off.

     Fortunately, the young demoness carried a pair of binoculars at all such time for perfectly justifiable reasons like birdwatching, and just so happened to double for situations like finding Babyls’ best-looking party runaways. Only a few seconds behind them, Eiko spotted her crushes soaring above the school grounds, Mister Iruma‘s hands wrapped around Miss Ameri’s waists while her arm held him for extra support. Eiko squirmed uselessly at the sight, her mind torn over which of the two’s position she envied more, until she witnessed gently them alight on the Tower Tree branches.

     They sat on a thick branch together, surrounded by the white-pink leaves and looked up at the stars together. If Eiko didn’t hadn’t tracked her with her binoculars, they would have been completely lost in the giant tree’s foliage, but luckily, the young demoness got a perfect view of the pair. 

     Mister Iruma and Miss Ameri simply started conversing, casually at first, but then more and more focused on the night sky. Obviously, Eiko couldn’t hear anything, so her fanciful imagination fit all manner of sugary speech into the gaps. Hanging on every breath, she witnessed the evolving exchange: casual to focused, then a long shared gaze followed by turning away, followed by sneaking looks when they thought the other wasn’t looking. Yet, Eiko caught everything, and it was adorable . 

     Finally, Mister Iruma said something , which was enough to make Miss Ameri blush as red as those long locks of hair that Eiko couldn’t stop admiring, but then she play-punched him, wrapped a gorgeous wing around him, and then leaned over and laid her head atop Iruma’s without even thinking. Eiko froze, then they froze too, realizing the distance between them or complete lack thereof. The young demoness’ cheeks burned with heat. 

    Eiko took a deep inhale, desperate to know what Miss Ameri was muttering to Mister Iruma, right as the pair drifted apart, and looked at each other again, then started moving closer and—

    “Kiss, kiss,” Eiko quietly chanted, finally coming to terms with her desires.

    They did not kiss.

    Iruma instead leaned too far backwards, accidentally plummeting from the branch. 

    Eiko gasped, but her crush’s peril only lasted a moment before her other crush leaned backwards and followed. Miss Ameri’s midnight wings enveloped Mister Iruma, and they tumbled briefly, a mix of flowing hair and suit and dress, before the demoness flapped again and they gently glided down to the Botany Tower’s observation deck. 

    Eiko lost track of them, but with wings beating with the power of adolescent lovesickness, she found the ideal rooftop to observe the unfolding scene. Neither Mister Iruma or Miss Ameri moved an inch since their unexpected descent, since their current position overloaded just about every neuron in their heads.

    She was prone, long hair splayed all around her, the Tower Tree’s pink leaves falling all about thanks to their tumble. He was on all fours just above her, framed in starlight, palms pressed flat just beside of her head. Even from her distant vantage, Eiko could feel the heat, the desire that radiated between them. They seemed frozen, all wide eyes and heavy breathing, even as Eiko held hers in desperate anticipation. The confused jealousy she’d come to expect vanished, instead there was nothing in the young demoness’ heart except for them to—

    “Now, kiss.” Eiko whispered her wish.

    Then they did. 

    A gentle press of lips against lips, slowly smoldering passion. She rose while he descended, forging a tender moment shared only between the two (and their voyeur). Their eyes opened simultaneously as they found each other. Miss Ameri’s hands cupped the back of his neck, and they parted, briefly, and pressed their foreheads together gently. What she said to him next Eiko didn’t know exactly, but she knew it was world-shaking, life-changing, quite the most important words ever spoken in history, all from the intensity of Miss Ameri’s stare.

    Eiko shuddered, her mind a complete simmering mess and her words reduced to steamy gasps. Simple secondhand exposure sent the little demoness’ little romantic heart into not-so-little tizzy, and when the two lovers returned for another longer, deeper kiss...

    Her little heart just couldn’t take it.

    Eiko took one final inhale, and gave up trying to hold herself together. She collapsed against the roof, stammering and happily hyperventilating as a maelstrom of emotions came over her. Iruma, Ameri, her attraction to Iruma, the same feeling for Ameri, the way she felt when they all collided... 

    She shut her eyes for a moment, just so she could focus, but when Eiko opened them again, the sky seemed a whole lot darker. Eiko leaned up, wiping her eyes and checking her phone, and to her shock a few hours had passed. She grabbed her binoculars and looked to the Tower’s observation deck, but as expected, Mister Iruma and Miss Ameri departed long ago.

    The young demoness prepared to bemoan her terrible luck once again, but paused. Every mistake of hers led the girl here, the sole witness to tonight special events. To see the two people she loved, if only from a distance, find their bliss in each other... And to actually witness that exact moment for herself, voyeuristic as it may be... 

    Eiko felt an odd sense of warm satisfaction blossoming in her breast, happy at Mister Iruma and Miss Ameri’s happiness, and she stood up. A dopey smile on her face, she began her long flight home. 

    “ I ship it, ” Eiko affirmed.