Chapter Text
“Is that normal?”
“I’m not sure,” Ennoshita responds, sounding much too calm for someone holding a book that just went up in literal blue flames and began to pour oily plumes of smoke into the air. Smoke that’s beginning to turn in eerie circles and bring a low thrum into the air, like they’re stuck in some terrible b horror movie. They’re lucky that Kenji stopped bothering putting new batteries into the smoke detector ever since he burned a meal for the umpteenth time and had yanked the batteries out of the wailing alarm out of pure spite and frustration. All they need is the worried neighbors banging on the door just to witness a scene straight out of a dark fantasy.
Ennoshita wafts a hand over the crisping book pages and brings it closer to his face, squinting.
“If you botch up a summoning in the middle of my kitchen, Chikara, I’ll report you to the bureau for malpractice sooner than you can say—“
“Okay, okay,” Ennoshita says, pushing past Kenji and dropping the tattered but somehow still intact tome onto his counter. Kenji grimaces, trying to remember where he’d put the disinfectant wipes. “Where do you keep the salt?”
Kenji gets up before Ennoshita opens every single cabinet and cupboard in the kitchen, wandering into the small dining area to grab the salt shaker from the table. “For what?” He shakes the thing to make sure there’s enough inside. “Oh my god, did you bring a demon in here?”
“That’s kind of what I do, Kenji, if you haven’t noticed yet. And it’s not fully here, I don’t think. But it heard me, and it’s manifesting. It must have gotten trapped in between the—Oh.”
Kenji whirls around and stomps back into the kitchen, pausing to ogle the viscous lump of black that’s suddenly appeared in the middle of his tiles. There’s something that looks like a crooked horn protruding from the mass, and a gaping maw of a beaked mouth that keeps opening and closing around deep gurgles that Kenji never wants to hear again.
When he glances at Ennoshita he’s affronted to see a look of empathy on his face, like he’s really feeling for this deformed creature that’s slowly emerging from the floor and could quite probably kill them both with one lurch of that crooked horn.
“I swear to god,” Kenji says, skirting along the edges of the kitchen to shove the salt shaker into Ennoshita’s chest and, maybe, to leverage his way behind the other’s back to avoid getting directly involved in the brewing mess. “Get whatever it is the fuck out of here.”
There’s a belch of sickly sweet air that reminds him of the incense shop down the street, and the air temperature seems to spike several degrees. The smoke is swirling in a steady cyclone now, emitting a low howl. One of the cupboard doors fly open, whacks closed, then flies open once more. The dishes inside shift and clang, startling when a glass tumbles down and crashes to the floor. That’s when the dread really starts settling in, and Kenji stops joking around.
“Chikara—“
“Right,” Ennoshita shakes himself and takes a step forward. “Okay. Sorry. Just stay right there, this isn’t out of control yet.”
Kenji watches him unscrew the salt shaker and toss the cap aside, stepping, unhurried, around the perimeter, pouring salt at several points. He repeats the circuit one more time, this time throwing his arm in smooth arcs to scatter some sort of pattern onto the ground, glyphs he’s never bothered to learn outside of what the bookmasters shoved at him during dry lessons.
Ennoshita stops and starts muttering in a tongue he can’t understand.
Kenji isn’t not practiced in the arts like Ennoshita is. Kenji’s learning the sword instead of the words, and the process is much more entrenched and prolonged than the people who grew up with a strong connection to the other realms already and started down the path of self mastery years ago, like Ennoshita had. He’s not allowed to bring his sword outside of the academy either until he’s a full initiate next year, with any luck, so he’s kind of fucked if this does get out of hand.
It takes a few minutes, but the heavy static slowly begins to dissipate from the air. Kenji’s still tense, the edge of the counter digging into his skin where he’s backed against it, pieces of his sword training flashing uselessly through his mind.
Everything seems to be going well until the diminishing mass in the middle suddenly reforms with a great heave, and Ennoshita freezes mid-word and open mouthed. The pause seems to be all the demon needs to re-gather its strength and lunge out.
Kenji’s heart turns cold when he sees that crooked horn launch straight toward Ennoshita, almost too fast to track. There’s that eerie, bone deep gurgle rumbling from the demon’s maw that makes his skin crawl, Ennoshita lurching backwards, and a spray of thick black substance splattering across Ennoshita’s face and torso in garish looking slashes.
The marks drawn in salt bars the demon from going any further, it writhing and fumificating against an unseen barrier.
Ennoshita’s eyes are wide and Kenji’s pissed that he can’t tell whether it’s shock or injury, but there’s that stupid empathy shining in his eyes again. He’s such a sympathizer with those bastard things, even now, and that’s the last thing they need.
“Get it done already!” Kenji yells, enough to snap Ennoshita back to attention.
Ennoshita’s diligent then, saying the words until the darkness finally breaks and ebbs away.
Kenji rushes over and puts a hand over Ennoshita’s chest, heaving a sigh of relief when there’s no sign of damage. He swipes the pads of his thumbs across the black stuff that’s splattered across Ennoshita’s cheeks. It’s thick and tar-like, smearing with every rub, but Kenji can see faint red marks when he cleans enough of the stuff away.
“God,” he breathes, holding Ennoshita’s face between his hands. “Are those burns?”
Ennoshita has the gall to laugh and smile, taking one of Kenji’s hands and squeezing it hard. It’s only then that he notices it’s trembling. “Easy stuff, right?”
“I don’t get why you’d want to do any of this. Why do you practice so much? We can’t even understand them and all they do is ruin.”
“Killing them can only do so much,” Ennoshita says, and he can’t read any contempt in the words for what Kenji’s training to become, just a heavy weariness that’s strange to hear from a sixteen year old. Ennoshita turns his head and kisses the center of Kenji’s palm. “They come to me too, all on their own. It makes me wonder why. I’m kind of stuck with it.”
Kenji doesn’t like the way Ennoshita’s staring at the spot where the demon had been moments before, so he yanks him up and they both survey the mess that’s become of the kitchen. The spent up salt is swept across the floor, turned gray like ash. There’s bits of glass in one corner and a strange, fine dusting of the same ash across some of the appliances as if Kenji hasn’t been home for months.
“Could you maybe,” Ennoshita starts, looking down at his own dirtied clothes, “Join me in the bathroom in a second?”
“Yeah, sure,” Kenji says, pushing against Ennoshita’s shoulder. “Go ahead and get started. I’ll sweep some of this crap up.”
When Ennoshita turns to leave Kenji goes to the sink and turns the tap. It gurgles and sputters for a few worrying seconds before pouring out clean, pure water. He scrubs his hands hard with a sigh, wondering what the hell they’ve got in store for them in the future.
He grabs a broom and dust pan from the cabinet and half heartedly sweeps a section of a kitchen before his worry overtakes him. Carelessly dropping the handle, he gingerly steps through the kitchen and turns into the open bathroom. Ennoshita’s standing before the mirror with his shirt off, one hand gripping the rim of the sink and the other on his own chest.
“Hey,” Ennoshita says.
“Hey,” Kenji replies, looking at the other’s reflection from over his shoulder. “How’s it looking?”
“Like I definitely got burned.” Ennoshita turns and removes his hand, revealing the full extent of the burn.
“Shit,” Kenji dances his fingers just above the marks, pulling away without touching. His skin is wet as if he’s already splashed water on it to try to reduce the swelling, but it still looks painful. “How’d it get you so good through your shirt? It looked like a lesser demon too. A weird one, but.”
“I mean, if you believe that they’re rising from the pits of hell it makes sense. And even if they’re not I imagine that it takes all sorts of energy to break between the realms like that. Maybe things get hot, even for lesser demons.”
“Right,” Kenji replies, not finding it in himself to care much for the specifics of it all. He guides Ennoshita to sit on the toilet and stoops down to grab the first aid kit from below the sink.
“Wow,” Ennoshita murmurs, watching as Kenji picks out a small tub of salve and wets a washcloth in the sink. “So you have picked up some good habits from school.”
“Ha ha,” Kenji says, wringing out the cloth and kneeling before Ennoshita. The quip rings with truth though. He knows how to work his way around a kit and a couple serious external injuries with confidence now just in case something ever went awry, or he or a classmate wound up getting hurt from all that endless drilling.
He goes to work wiping away any remaining smudges of black, needing to rub somewhat vigorously to get it all away. When Ennoshita hisses at a swipe across his chin he gentles, then pulls away.
“That hurt?”
“A little.”
Kenji hums and turns back to the aid kit, picking up two other vials before finding the right one. Uncapping it, he dabs a bit of the oily substance onto the washcloth and returns to cleaning.
“What is that? It smells gross.” Ennoshita pulls a face. “And it stings.”
“It’s like the makeup remover equivalent for this demon ejaculate that’s all over you.”
“The way you phrase things is so nice.”
“Don’t ask me what’s in it,” Kenji laughs, working his way down to Ennoshita’s chest. Most of the black stuff had gotten on his shirt rather than his skin so it’s quick work to wipe away the remaining residue. “I just know how to use it. Something with certain materials that can counteract the poisons that touching a demon can give you, staving off the sickness, blah blah. Probably some aloe vera. You’d be better off asking Akaashi about this medical-alchemy-magic stuff.”
“I don’t think I want to let him know about this incident. That was self studying at its absolute worst.”
“Tell me about it. He’d probably give you that look that makes you feel like you disappointed your mom.” Kenji flops the washcloth over the sink and unscrews the salve, scooping a generous portion onto two fingers.
They lapse into silence as he stands up and prompts Ennoshita to tilt his face. He smears the salve in specks and swoops across the angry looking red areas, Ennoshita kissing his fingers when they pass over his lips. Kenji uses his free hand to tug Ennoshita’s hair for that, but he just cranes his neck back, smiles, and blinks his eyes closed.
Great, Kenji thinks, conjuring up images of the most twisted and unattractive creatures and items in all the realms. Trolls. Pug faces. That one garish Christmas sweater Aone made him when they were little.
Ennoshita’s insistent on being a squirmy patient though because after a minute of silence Kenji feels cool fingers brush against his wrist and up his elbow, thumbing into the sensitive inner crease of it.
“Soot,” Ennoshita explains, quietly, and Kenji has to wordlessly resume his task to avoid getting distracted. But when he looks back down Ennoshita’s staring at him and he still has that hand on his arm.
“You’re kidding,” Kenji says, heart thumping when Ennoshita leans forward to rest his forehead against his torso, re-positioning his hand so it can slide beneath Kenji’s shirt and rest at the small of his back, tugging him slightly forward. It takes an obscene amount of restraint to resist sliding his own hand through Ennoshita’s hair and down his back.
“I’m not getting in the shower with you,” Kenji grits out. “There’s no space.”
Ennoshita laughs a puff of air against him and leans back. “Getting in the shower would ruin everything you just did. I do think I want to lie down after this though. On my back, probably.”
“Unbelievable,” Kenji mutters at the wider smile Ennoshita sends him, shirking that hand off his back. Ennoshita drops it without protest, leaning back against the porcelain of the toilet.
Kenji kneels back down, liberally applying salve to the worst of the burns on Ennoshita’s chest. Reaching for a roll of dry gauze, he loosely wraps it around until the affected skin is covered up, snipping and pinning the end securely in place. He sighs when done, sitting back on his haunches.
The earlier amusement and suggestion is gone from Ennoshita’s face, replaced by a distracted vacancy.
Kenji frowns. “Are you really okay? Should I be sending you to a real hospital?”
“Yeah. No, this is more than enough.” Ennoshita rubs his forehead, grimacing when he gets some salve on his fingers, looking at a point over Kenji’s shoulder. “I just feel weird and all over the place. Sort of tired too. I keep hearing the way it roared when it came after me…”
“Is that normal?”
"The roaring?"
"The you feeling all over the place."
“I don’t know. That black stuff could have had some kind of taint in it. I’m not usually very, um.” Ennoshita wets his lips and blinks away some of that far-off gaze, looking him in the eyes. “Susceptible?”
“Because of your freaky affinity to the lower realm,” Kenji offers.
“If that’s what you want to call it. You should really take a shower though. I know the mundane have a terrible resistance to this stuff, even if they train for years to wave a pointy stick around at giant demons.”
“Slurs and slander in my own bathroom,” Kenji says with a roll of the eyes, packing the kit away and back beneath the sink. He heeds the advice though, peeling his shirt off and turning on the shower so the water can heat up.
When he turns around Ennoshita is up and lingering, arms folded, at the bathroom’s threshold.
“Get out. I am so serious,” Kenji says, an unwelcome blush warming his cheeks.
“I’m just here to say thank you for the first aid. And sorry about your kitchen.”
“Uh huh,” Kenji retorts, waiting for Ennoshita to leave. He doesn’t, looking at him in that steady, sleepy way that’s always hard to ignore, but there’s something intense and off about it that makes him shiver.
Kenji thinks about taint and poison and lifelong affinity, a nervous flutter growing in the pit of his stomach. He thinks about how he still doesn’t know why Ennoshita left his own academy a year ago to attend a totally normal high school instead, or why he’s practicing summoning on an expired learner’s permit with borrowed books and online journal accounts and no signs that he’s planning on enrolling into a real academy any time soon for proper tutelage.
“Go take a nap, you gross horny teenager,” Kenji chides.
Ennoshita snorts and finally pushes away, disappearing around the corner.
He waits a second before moving to close the door. Pauses again, reaches back and locks it on pure instinct, feeling the goosebumps he often felt when the instructor would present caged minor demons for them to study in science class.
It couldn’t mean anything significant. It was probably just the taint working paranoia into his system.
Shedding the rest of his clothes and picking up the vial from earlier, he steps beneath the hot spray of the shower resolved to ask a professor about it the next day.