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Barbatos fidgets uncomfortably in the place of honor, wanting to assume his normal station. He should be standing and not sitting in the presence of the Young Master. The butler should be the one serving the refreshments, pouring the Demonus, seeing that every guests’ needs are met.
Instead, his friends laugh and refill his glass, pushing another delicacy at him. He coughs politely and protests,
“I thank you all for the kind attentions, but they really are not necess-”
“Nonsense!,” booms Diavolo, his hearty laugh echoing in the hall.
“How many times must I tell you, Barbatos, that on your birthday you are not to lift a finger? How many birthdays will it take to get you to take my order on that account seriously?”
The butler sighs, knowing it is futile to protest further. “Of course, Young Master. Forgive my impertinence for interfering in your plans for my birthday.”
How many times has this exchange been repeated over the millennia? Barbatos knows the exact amount, and it is vast. Every year, the same mandate from his Master, the same ineffective protestations from him. Every year for countless years, the same, except when…
A peal of laughter rings in his ear, interrupting his thoughts, and he looks up, a small smile on his face.
Not quite the same. This time, there is something new, the human.
“Barbatos, please, just try to relax and celebrate with us? With me?”
The sparkling eyes laugh into his as the exchange student pours him a fresh drink, also filling their own glass. He cannot suppress his widening smile when they clink their glass to his.
He sips, eyes never leaving them. Yes, things have certainly been different and exciting since the exchange program started. For the Young Master, for the brothers…
For him.
For reasons he cannot quite understand, the human has actively sought out his company since their arrival. Helping him in the Castle gardens, learning how to make Devildom pastries, sitting in a chair in the corner of whichever room he is tidying, talking easily about anything.
And for reasons equally mysterious to him, Barbatos finds himself responding to their attentions in a scope beyond that of his role as butler. The ancient demon wants to find exotic blooms in the garden and make them a bouquet, wants to lick frosting off a spatula offered by them, wants to pull up a chair next to them and sit with his knee touching theirs while they are talking.
He has, of course, done none of these things. It is the mere fact that he desires to do so that is intriguing to him.
His reverie is broken by a loud “THUMP.” Blinking, his eyes focus on a large, garishly decorated box in front of him, Diavolo’s present, of course.
“Happy birthday!” A clap on the back from the Crown Prince that almost sends him reeling out of the chair, and the rest of the guests queue up with their presents. He receives each gift with reserved politeness, as always happy but embarrassed of the attention.
A polite thank-you to each guest. Placing each box and bag in a neat pile. The words and presents blend together, until an item placed before him wipes the serene smile off of his face. Time slows around him. He hears nothing but his ragged breathing and his heart pounding in his ears. His throat becomes a desert, and he swallows with an audible click.
It is an ikebana, rather amateurish in its composition to his expert eye, but that is of little importance. His hands run over the two sprigs of flowers spiraling on either side in perfect symmetry. The small, triangular shrub in the middle.
Barbatos can barely bring himself to raise his eyes to see who has given him this gift that has stunned him. He can hardly dare to hope…
His mouth falls open and a small sigh escapes when he sees the exchange student standing in front of him, with an expectant smile on their face.
"Do you like it? I tried to remember everything you taught me in your lessons on Japanese flower arrangements. I know that it's not as polished or beautiful as the ones you make, but-"
Another swallow, another click.
He has seen this pattern so many times before. In the cracked glaze of a teapot, in the swirling decorations of a cake, woven into a robe, and in almost countless other gifts over the uncountable years.
“Why did you give me this? Why this particular arrangement?” His voice is a harsh whisper, struggling to maintain the neutral mask as he waits for their response.
Their pleased smile slips as they consider their answer.
“When I made it, it just…happened. My hands worked on their own. When I was done I…I realized that the shape is how I see you.”
At these words, he closes his eyes, and the only thing he sees is the human, extending their hand to him, inviting. He can see their soul, glowing within, and in his vision the demon sinks to his knees at the sight, his hand reaching to the one offered. The feelings overflowing, tears begin to fall down his face.
He has found it again, after so much time. The soul that is his. The human soul that had been promised to him and has been a part of his existence for infinity. A line of humans possessing it stretching back through the ages. Always the same pattern, always that distinct, warm, light.
The realization and inevitable revelation to the human always blossoming into a wonderful shared existence between him and them, a bliss that stretches across the years.
Each time the brutally short life of the mortal was over, the soul would vanish out of his grasp.
Each time, the long search, the vigilance for the signs. Each time, the same sensations upon finding it again.
The relief. The longing fulfilled.
The greed.
The green eyes open and again seek out the eyes of the human that he now knows is his. A small smile graces his lips, and a polite laugh escapes from his mouth.
“I kindly thank you for your wonderful gift; I will treasure it always. If you should ever care for another lesson in the art of ikebana, please come by the Castle at your convenience. I would be delighted to continue my instruction.”
The bright smile returns on their face before they turn away, leaving Barbatos alone with his thoughts.
So many things make sense to him now.
Why he had sought out time to spend with them, craving their proximity. Why he had felt compelled so strongly to manipulate time to bring them back. Why a single tear had fallen from his eye when he saw their lifeless body. It had all been so personal, and he had not had time to think about it in the urgency of the moment.
He had been fighting to keep the soul that was his by right. The soul that he cherishes every time he encounters it again.
Barbatos frowns as he contemplates the other details. Each time the human dies, the soul goes beyond, into the void where he cannot touch it. The mortal boundary, a line that he cannot cross except in extraordinary circumstances.
As always, he vows to himself to make every moment count with the human carrying his precious prize…but something is different this time. There is something new.
The soul has found residence in the descendant of an angel. It is in someone for whom he has foreseen an extraordinary destiny. They are unique, even to his long existence. Perhaps…things will run a different course.
The gentle smile returns as his eyes find the human across the room, smiling and laughing with the others.
Perhaps, this time…he will not have to let them go.
