Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Iruma couldn’t hear a word of the lecture. Or, more accurately, he heard it, but every word slid right past him like hot butter in a skillet. All he could think about was how badly his back hurt. Sitting upright in that hard-backed chair was taking nearly all his energy and attention. He alternated between leaning all the way back in it and nearly slumping forward over his desk, but any relief either position gave him was short lived. 

It must have been written all over his face, despite his best efforts, because he kept catching Azz and Clara’s eyes on him. He tried to shoot them reassuring smiles every now and then, but he likely just looked strained, because their brows only seemed to knit even tighter with concern. He felt terrible for worrying them and distracting them from the lecture and tried his best to sit still and stop thinking about his pain. A rather difficult task today, but after a while, he knew it would be manageable. 

His mind wandered plenty as he tried to keep himself distracted. Unfortunately, Kalego’s lecture today was on conventions of classic demonic literature, which Iruma had an extremely difficult time parsing thanks to Sullivan’s spell acting as a kind of auto translator. Very useful when it came to reading or conversing with others, not so useful when trying to understand poetic conventions of a language that his brain just read as plain Japanese. His mind drifted instead to some of the poems he’d studied at school in the human world. Though, Iruma’s version of “studying” back then had been more like cramming as much of the material as he could between odd jobs and classes and days spent sleeping off the exhaustion so that he could recover in time for the next work assignment. He remembered reciting Ishikawa to himself while cleaning up the classroom alone: Just waiting / For the time to return home— / Today, too, I worked.

Iruma really wished he were at home in his bed. At least this was the last class of the day, and he’d be able to leave soon.

Just as that thought occurred to him, he saw a shadow looming over his desk. With a start, he looked up to find Kalego staring stonily down at him. Iruma gulped.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his classmates all packing their bags. He hadn’t even noticed Kalego dismiss them.

Clara grabbed onto Iruma’s arm protectively. 

“S-Sir Kalego—” Azz began, cautious but already with a defensive edge to his voice. Kalego silenced him with a raised hand. 

“I’d like Iruma-kun to stay after class,” he said coolly. “ Just Iruma-kun.” And that was all he said, turning on his heel and striding over to his desk to wait imperiously.

The other two leapt to their feet, already poised to argue. “Eggy-sensei—”

“It’s okay,” Iruma said quickly, flashing his friends another smile that he hoped looked more genuine. “You guys go on ahead, I’ll catch up with you out front.” 

As usual, Azz and Clara looked like they would rather walk over broken glass than leave Iruma’s side, but with much reluctance and pitiful glances over their shoulders, they left. Iruma gingerly walked over to Kalego’s desk. To his relief, the chair was more similar to Kalego’s own, and more comfortable.

“Wait here,” Kalego said haughtily, and disappeared into his back office for a few nerve wracking moments. When he came back, to Iruma’s shock, he was holding a mug of what smelled like tea.

“Drink it.” Kalego said it like an order more than a request. Iruma obliged.

The tea was warm and had an earthy, herbal taste. Iruma was amazed to feel his tense, achy muscles relax little by little as he sipped, and his mind became less fogged with pain. It didn’t cure him entirely, but he felt more alert and relieved than he had all day.

“What is this?” Iruma asked, dumbfounded.

“A special blend of Suzy’s. Shiichiro swears by it. Insisted I keep some in the classroom. I suppose it has its merits.” Kalego leaned back in his chair, eyeing Iruma shrewdly. “Now that I seem to have you back from lala land, would you care to tell me why you came to school despite looking like you were about to keel over and die?”

Iruma flushed deeply, though he was so pale and drained to begin with that the color only made him look slightly more like his usual self. “I-I’m all right, Professor, really. I think I just slept badly. I’ll sleep early tonight and make sure to study with Azz-kun to make up for it.”

Kalego’s eyes narrowed. “You were struggling to climb the stairs because of… sleep deprivation.”

Iruma shrank in his chair. “Err… well… I might have slept in a weird position… My back and legs hurt a little… But I’m not worried, Professor! I just need a hot bath and some rest.”

“You swear you aren’t hiding some injury?”

Iruma blinked. “Injury? N-No…”

“No misadventures I’m unaware of?”

“No! No, no, nothing like that!” Iruma waved his hands emphatically. “B-But that’s kind of you to worry about me! Thank you! But it’s not necessary, really! I just… err… well, I get tired like this sometimes, just like anyone else, I guess. It was just a little worse than usual today. S-So…”

Iruma faltered to a sheepish stop under Kalego’s glower. He stared at Iruma for a long while, perhaps trying to suss out whether he was being lied to and Iruma was, in fact, dealing with yet another life-threatening adventure off campus.

(The irony did not escape him that this had simply been the norm for him back home in the human world, and yet it wasn’t until now that a teacher showed any interest or concern in his life outside the classroom.)

Eventually, Kalego dropped his gaze and sighed— a more quiet sigh than Iruma expected. Though his voice was no less cranky than usual as he said, “You know, I keep telling you that you ought to worry more about yourself.”

“T-That’s true… Sorry…” Though Iruma was rather confused about what he was apologizing for.

Kalego sighed again, rubbing his temples. “Since you seem to lack any and all sense of self preservation, I suppose I’ll just have to give you a special lecture. ”

Iruma gulped again.

Kalego stood from his chair and began to pace around the ludicrously spacious classroom. “Are you aware that the Netherworld is a cruel and unforgiving place to live?”

“Yes…”

“You certainly don’t act like you are,” Kalego snapped. “The previous demon king worked very hard to reform the Netherworld into a place where demons could live longer, happier lives. However, that was a very low bar to clear. Our life expectancy before Delkira was terribly short. Nowadays, we’re able to survive— if we’re very careful. ” Kalego crossed the room and loomed over him like a vulture. “Do you know which demons survive the longest, Iruma?”

“W-Which ones?” Iruma squeaked out faintly.

Kalego poked his chest. “The ones that take care of their bodies.”

Iruma blinked. Then blinked again. “…Eh?”

“You seem to greatly enjoy throwing yourself headfirst into the most dire situations possible, devil knows why. And not only this, but you pay no mind whatsoever to any consequences to yourself. You go through life as if you have some kind of death wish! How often do you experience these bouts of pain and exhaustion?”

“H-Huh? Oh, um…” Iruma tried to think, caught off guard by the question. “It’s hard to… Well, I’m not sure how…” He fell silent, frowning with confusion.

Kalego let out another sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. “As I suspected, it sounds like you’re always ignoring some degree of pain. Has it ever occurred to you that other people don’t do that? ”

A shock jolted through Iruma. Kalego may as well have told him that nobody else has to breathe air. “They don’t?!”

Kalego looked like he was on the verge of collapsing onto his desk in despair. “Of all the demons to be contracted to…” he muttered, passing a weary hand over his eyes.

But he composed himself, trying his best to maintain the air of a teacher. “Listen, Iruma. Stress is just about the worst thing for a demon’s body. We were built to let loose and do as we please. Obviously, we are not quite so… unfettered anymore, but holding onto stress has consequences. Even permanent ones. Our wicked phases are a kind of failsafe to release whatever pent up stress we have before it can do damage, and considering how troublesome your wicked phase is, you must be one of the most stressed out students I’ve ever had the misfortune of teaching.”

That explains a lot, Iruma thought abashedly. As a rule, Iruma didn’t have a wicked phase. Ali could induce something like one, but it wasn’t something that naturally occurred. If it was, he shuddered to think how often he would have triggered it in his old life.

“S-Sorry, Professor—” he started sheepishly, but Kalego held up a hand to silence him.

“Don’t apologize,” he grumbled, “just stay home and rest tomorrow, for Devi’s sake. There’s no point in coming to school if you’re too tired to do the work. You’ll just make the burnout last longer. And take this.” He pressed a few tea bags into Iruma’s hand. “Have Opera-senpai serve it to you in the mornings. I’ll arrange for Suzy to send them a box.”

Iruma’s eyes widened. He’d thought Kalego had kept him just to give him an earful, but… 

“…Thank you, Professor,” Iruma said quietly, feeling some strange emotion welling in his chest.

Kalego, apparently sensing a sappy moment on the horizon, hurriedly put an end to it. “Go home, Iruma. Have your little lackeys assist you.”

“Y-Yessir.” Iruma gingerly raised himself from his chair, slowly and pitifully walking toward the door.

“…Wait a minute,” Kalego sighed begrudgingly. He disappeared into his office again, then came back with something that he shoved into Iruma’s hands unceremoniously. Iruma gasped softly at the beautiful wooden walking stick, running his fingers over the pommel carved to look like Cerberus.

“It’s adjustable,” Kalego said, pressing a small button below the pommel. Sure enough, it shrank down to something more fitting for Iruma’s stature.

“Return it whenever you come back to school, and stop being so shy about using yours.”

Iruma blinked. “Mine?”

“Your cane.”

Iruma stared.

“…You don’t have one?”

“No…”

Kalego looked like he could throttle someone. “That idiot chairdemon,” he muttered under his breath. “Have your grandfather get you one, then. Just return mine when you have a chance. Now, go home.”

Iruma continued to stare. 

“What?” Kalego barked.

“Sorry!” Iruma squeaked. “I just… don’t really know how to… err…”

Kalego looked at him with utmost incredulity. “Have you never used one?”

“No…”

“What on earth do you do when you’re injured?”

“I-I don’t really remember the last time I got injured…”

Kalego rubbed his eyes, exhausted. “That explains why you’re even still alive,” he mumbled. “You must have the devil’s luck.”

Iruma didn’t really know how to explain his superhuman dodging instincts, so he simply didn’t.

“All right,” Kalego finally said, looking supremely unhappy. “I’ll walk you to the front and teach you how to use it.”

And so he did, helping Iruma up the stairs with a hand hovering at his elbow. It struck Iruma as being an absurd kindness, one that made him feel almost like crying. But it seemed that to Kalego, it went without saying that he would do something like this for a fellow demon. It occurred to Iruma that despite the overall selfishness of demons, there had also always been this nonsensical kindness to the ones he met. As if they understood that, more than anything, helping each other was to serve the greatest collective ambition of all demons: survival. What a strange world Iruma found himself in. What a wonderful world.

When Kalego unceremoniously handed him off to Azz and Clara, they immediately fretted over the sight of him with the cane— “DID EGGY-SENSEI BREAK YOUR LEGS?!” Clara gasped out, horrified— but were relieved to hear Iruma’s account of the conversation as they walked home together.

“Well…” Azz said reluctantly, as if he was loath to admit it, “Sir Kalego is right that you must take care of your body above all else, Iruma-sama. You really should stay home tomorrow. In fact, I’ll stay, too. I’ll help you in any way I can.” Azz practically sparkled with enthusiasm. “I can take care of everything while you recover. I’ll do your homework for you, even.”

“Err, thank you, but that’s not—”

“What?!” Clara hollered. “No fair! If you’re staying and hanging out with Irumachi, then I am, too! I’m good at nursing people! I help take care of the babies when they’re sick!”

“ Iruma-sama is not a baby! ” Azz fumed.

Iruma couldn’t help but laugh, clutching both their arms. Truly, his friends were the strangest and most wonderful things in all the Netherworld.

Chapter Text

“ Iruma-kun! ” Sullivan wailed, the moment Iruma walked through the door. The kind old demon looked beside himself, bundling Iruma up in his arms and nearly lifting him off the ground.

“Why didn’t you tell me you weren’t feeling well?! I would have canceled school for the day for you!”

Opera sighed, helping to pry a thoroughly squished Iruma from the chairdemon’s arms. “An excused absence would suffice…” Even so, their ears were flat with concern as they smoothed Iruma’s collar and looked him over from head to toe. 

“It’s okay,” Iruma quickly assured them both. He patted Opera’s hand and smiled. “I guess I’m just a little worn out. But Professor Kalego was really nice about it. Oh!” Iruma fished something out of his pocket, handing it to Opera. “The professor said to give this to you to make in the mornings.”

Opera’s ears twitched with amusement as they examined the tea bags. “How thoughtful. I suppose this is from Kalego-kun, too?” They picked up the cane from the corner where it had been flung in Sullivan’s enthusiasm.

“Mm-hm. He said I could use it until I got one of my own.”

“But you have one of your own!” Sullivan cried. 

“R-Really? I do?”

“Yes, of course! I gave it to you on your first day, along with all your other supplies! Come, let’s see if we can’t track it down.”

The three of them went to search Iruma’s closet— a more difficult task than one might think, seeing as it was absurdly large and stuffed to the gills with clothes and accessories that Iruma was too overwhelmed to ever look through properly. The closet was practically uncharted territory to Iruma, who preferred to keep his clean uniforms and favorite outfits hanging near the door and only brave the depths on special occasions. 

Even so, it didn’t take long for Sullivan to find what he was looking for. He made straight for the jewelry display and cried out in relief. “Oh good, it’s just where I left it. See?”

He held out a leather bracelet with a blue, opalescent jewel.

Iruma stared. Sullivan just smiled at him.

“…That is a bracelet,” Iruma said brightly. He had no idea what else to say.

Sullivan chuckled, pressing it into Iruma’s hand. “Put it on and press the button.”

Button? Curious, Iruma slipped the band onto his wrist. He supposed that the jewel must be a button, like the one on Kalego’s cane. Sure enough, when he pressed it, a cane burst forth, its handle made of that same blue opalescent material. The bracelet was actually a wrist strap. How convenient.

“Whoa!” Iruma’s eyes were wide and shining. “This is amazing!”

“The finest model there is,” Sullivan said proudly. “It adjusts perfectly to the height and hand of its user, so it shouldn’t ever hurt to use.”

“Mine is the same model,” Opera chimed in. They pulled back one sleeve, and sure enough, there was a leather band around their wrist. “Your classmates likely carry something similar in case of emergencies.”

“Wow, I had no idea… But I guess it makes sense.” 

Iruma tried walking a little, just like Kalego had shown him. To his delight, it felt perfectly natural. The handle molded to the shape of his hand and was always perfectly cool in his palm. It was solid enough to properly support him, but somehow feather light. A strange warmth pooled in Iruma’s chest. He really loved his cane.

“Thank you, Grandpa!” Sullivan knelt down to let Iruma give him a hug. “It’s beautiful!”

“Only the best for my grandson,” the old demon puffed proudly. “But you’re still staying home and resting tomorrow! In fact, I’ll stay home, too.”

Opera sighed. “Your faculty evaluations are due tomorrow…”

“It’s fine, I’ve finished all of them but Kalego-kun’s. I’m sure he won’t mind.”

Iruma hardly even heard the ensuing argument. He ran his fingers over the handle of his cane, the pearly sheen practically dazzling him. A precious gift just for him. Tucked in the crook of his other arm was Kalego’s old cane, a family heirloom worn smooth by countless hands, and now by Iruma’s, too.

In the human world, everyone had seemed to think that a cane was a sad burden to carry. Now, Iruma thought that that was all wrong. He’d never felt less burdened.