Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Yuri slumped over his desk, chin resting on his folded arms as he stared blankly at the blackboard. The teacher droned on about world history—something about the French Revolution—but his mind was anywhere but 18th-century Europe.

Murata, seated beside him, nudged his arm with the eraser end of his pencil. “Hey, Shibuya, pay attention. You might actually learn something useful for once.”

Yuri let out a dramatic sigh. “You’re one to talk. You’re doodling in your notebook.”

Murata smirked and tilted his notebook slightly, revealing a messy sketch of Shin Makoku’s royal crest, half-hidden under the guise of random scribbles. “I call this ‘covert note-taking.’”

Yuri rolled his eyes but leaned in closer, keeping his voice low. “Seriously, though. Doesn’t it feel weird sitting here, pretending like none of that happened? One second, we’re in a war council discussing border security, and the next, we’re here, worrying about math homework.”

Murata adjusted his glasses, his expression unreadable. “It’s all about balance, Shibuya. You can’t be a full-time Maou and a full-time high school student at the same time. Well… I suppose you could, but I don’t recommend it.”

Yuri groaned, ruffling his own hair. “I swear, the second I get back, something crazy is gonna happen. Gwendal will have a stack of paperwork waiting for me, Conrad will probably act like I’ve been gone for years, and Wolfram—”

Murata snickered. “—will throw a fit because you left without him.”

Yuri sighed again, though there was fondness in it. “Yup. That about sums it up.”

The teacher suddenly turned, eyes narrowing in suspicion. “Shibuya. Murata. Is there something you’d like to share with the class?”

Murata, ever the smooth talker, pushed up his glasses and smiled. “Ah, no, sir. We were just discussing… diplomatic strategies.”

The teacher blinked. “For…?”

Yuri opened his mouth, then shut it. “Uh… student council elections?”

Murata hummed approvingly. “A very important battle, indeed.”

The teacher gave them a long look before sighing and returning to his lecture.

Yuri slumped in relief. “I’m really not cut out for all this double-life stuff.”

Murata chuckled, flipping a page in his notebook. “You better get used to it, Shibuya. You’re the Demon King, after all.”

Yuri groaned. “Yeah, yeah. But right now, I’m just a guy trying to pass this class.”

Murata smirked. “That might be the greater challenge.”

The final bell rang, and students poured out of the school, heading home. Yuri and Murata walked side by side down the familiar streets, their bags slung over their shoulders. The sun was starting to dip, casting a golden glow over the pavement.

“So,” Murata started, adjusting his glasses, “you managed to get through an entire school day without causing a magical disaster. I’d call that progress.”

Yuri groaned. “Barely. I almost knocked over the beaker in chemistry, and I totally blanked on the history quiz.”

Murata smirked. “Not surprising.”

Yuri shot him a look. “Wow. Thanks for the support, Great Sage.”

Murata chuckled. “Anytime, Shibuya.”

They turned a corner, heading down a quieter street. That’s when Yuri noticed them—three guys loitering near an alley, whispering among themselves. He didn’t think much of it at first, but the moment one of them stepped in front of Murata, blocking his path, Yuri tensed.

“Well, well,” the leader sneered. “Look who it is. The four-eyed weirdo.”

Murata sighed, clearly unimpressed. “Oh great, this again.”

Yuri frowned. “You know these guys?”

Murata shrugged. “They’re… persistent.”

One of the bullies cracked his knuckles. “You’ve been running your mouth a lot, glasses-boy. Time we teach you a lesson.”

Murata sighed dramatically. “And here I thought we were past this stage of human evolution.”

The leader grabbed Murata’s collar, yanking him forward. “You think you’re funny?”

That was all it took.

In an instant, Yuri stepped between them, grabbing the guy’s wrist in a firm grip. The bully flinched at the strength behind it.

“Let. Go.” Yuri’s voice was calm, but there was an unmistakable edge to it—the voice of a king who didn’t tolerate injustice.

The guy hesitated, then scowled. “Stay out of this, Shibuya. Unless you wanna get hit too.”

Yuri smirked. “Oh, you really don’t wanna do that.”

The air around them seemed to shift. A faint pressure, something ancient and powerful, radiated from Yuri. The bullies shivered but didn’t understand why.

Murata adjusted his glasses, hiding a grin. “Oh dear. You’ve really done it now.”

The bully tried to yank his hand free, but Yuri tightened his grip just slightly. Not enough to hurt—just enough to make him feel how powerless he was in comparison. The guy’s bravado cracked.

“You’re gonna apologize,” Yuri said, his voice calm but unyielding. “Right now.”

The other two bullies shifted uncomfortably, suddenly not so confident. The leader gulped. “Tch… whatever. Fine. Sorry.”

Yuri let go of his wrist. “Good. Now get lost.”

They didn’t need to be told twice. The three of them turned and practically ran.

Murata let out a low whistle. “You didn’t even throw a punch. I’m impressed.”

Yuri rolled his shoulders. “Didn’t need to. They just needed to know who they were messing with.”

Murata smirked. “Ah, the mighty Maou delivering justice even in the human world.”

Yuri groaned. “Oh, shut up.”

Murata chuckled. “Still, thanks, Shibuya. You didn’t have to do that.”

Yuri crossed his arms. “Of course I did. You’re my friend.”

Murata looked at him for a moment, then smiled. “Well, then. I suppose I’ll just have to stick around you forever, huh?”

Yuri sighed. “Great. Just what I needed—an eternal wisecracking best friend.”

Murata chuckled. “Exactly.”

They kept walking, the trouble behind them. It was just another day on Earth. But even here, Yuri Shibuya was still the Demon King.

The next day at school, everything seemed normal—at least for the first few hours. Yuri and Murata made it through morning classes, dodging pop quizzes and half-paying attention to lectures. But as they walked down the hall toward their lockers, Yuri felt a familiar sense of unease.

Then he saw it.

Murata, surrounded by the same group of bullies from yesterday. Only this time, they weren’t just throwing insults. The leader had a fistful of Murata’s blazer, shoving him backward toward an open locker.

Yuri didn’t even think. He moved.

Before the bully could force Murata inside, Yuri grabbed his wrist and yanked him back—hard. The guy stumbled, barely catching himself on the row of lockers.

The entire hallway went silent.

Yuri’s voice was calm, but his dark eyes burned. “What do you think you’re doing?”

The bully glared at him, trying to recover his tough-guy act. “Stay out of this, Shibuya. It’s none of your business.”

Yuri took a step forward. The air around him seemed heavier, crackling with an unseen force. Not magic—not really—but something ancient, something commanding.

Murata, brushing dust off his sleeve, adjusted his glasses with a smirk. “Oh, you poor idiots. You have no idea who you’re messing with.”

The leader scoffed, but the other two bullies hesitated. There was something off about Yuri—like the quiet before a storm.

“You think you can just push people around?” Yuri’s voice was steady, but there was an undercurrent of power behind it. “You think that makes you strong?”

The leader tensed. “Shut up, Shibuya.”

Yuri tilted his head. “Or what?”

For a second, no one moved. The bully clenched his fists, but he didn’t step forward. Something deep inside him screamed that it would be a very bad idea.

Then Yuri smiled. It wasn’t kind.

“You should be grateful you’re here,” Murata said suddenly, his voice quieter but sharper than usual. “If this were Shin Makoku, and you laid hands on me—the Great Sage?”

He leaned in slightly, his glasses catching the light in a way that made his eyes unreadable.

“You wouldn’t be standing right now.”

The color drained from the bully’s face. He had no idea what Murata meant, but the sheer certainty in his tone sent a chill down his spine.

Murata sighed and stepped past him, straightening his blazer. “Luckily for you, Shibuya’s a merciful king.”

The leader gulped, his bravado cracking completely. Without another word, he turned and walked away, his lackeys scrambling to follow.

The moment they were gone, the tension in the air faded. The hallway slowly returned to normal, and students who had been watching suddenly found their lockers very interesting.

Yuri exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Ugh. I swear, dealing with human jerks is worse than dealing with Shin Makoku politics.”

Murata chuckled. “At least the people in Shin Makoku know better than to mess with you.”

Yuri glanced at him. “That thing you said… about what would happen if this was Shin Makoku?”

Murata smiled, but there was something dark behind it. “Oh, Shibuya. If this were Shin Makoku, Gwendal would’ve had them arrested before they even laid a hand on me. Wolfram? He’d have challenged them to a duel. Conrad… well, he’d be polite about it, but they’d never walk straight again.”

Yuri shuddered. “Yeah, okay, I get it. Remind me to never get on Gwendal’s bad side.”

Murata laughed. “Oh, Shibuya. You already have.”

Yuri groaned. “Great.”

As they walked off to class, Yuri shook his head. “You know, sometimes I think living a normal high school life would be nice.”

Murata grinned. “And yet, here you are—stopping fights and ruling like a king even in this world.”

Yuri sighed dramatically. “I just wanted to play baseball.”

Murata chuckled. “Too late for that, Your Majesty.”

After school, Yuri and Murata made their way back to the Shibuya household, the afternoon air crisp and cool. The confrontation from earlier had been forgotten—at least by Yuri. Murata, on the other hand, was still amused by how easily the bullies had crumbled under just a few words.

“You know, Shibuya, if you ever get tired of baseball, you could have a promising future in intimidation,” Murata said, adjusting his glasses.

Yuri groaned. “I wasn’t trying to intimidate them! I just don’t like jerks picking on people.”

Murata smirked. “Ah yes, the ever-righteous Demon King. You truly are a unique one.”

Yuri rolled his eyes as they reached his front door. The moment he stepped inside, a familiar, comforting smell filled the air.

“Curry!” Yuri beamed.

“Welcome home, Yu-chan! Murata-kun, you’re staying for dinner, right?” Jennifer Shibuya called from the kitchen.

Murata smiled. “Of course, Shibuya-san. I wouldn’t miss your cooking.”

As they set down their bags, another voice chimed in.

“You invited him again?”

Yuri turned to see his older brother, Shori, standing in the doorway, arms crossed.

“Nice to see you too, Shori,” Murata said cheerfully.

Shori sighed. “Whatever. Just don’t eat all the curry.”

Jennifer clapped her hands. “Alright, boys! Wash up and come to the table.”

Soon, the four of them were seated, enjoying steaming plates of homemade curry. Yuri practically inhaled his food, while Murata took more measured bites, watching the Shibuya family dynamic with amusement.

“So,” Shori said after a few moments, “how’s that place doing?”

Yuri blinked. “Huh?”

Murata smirked. “He means Shin Makoku.”

Shori scowled. “Obviously.”

Yuri scratched his head. “Well… things are okay, I guess? I mean, no wars, no crazy magic disasters—”

Murata raised an eyebrow. “You’re forgetting the trade dispute between the Bielefeld territory and the western merchants.”

Yuri groaned. “Ugh, don’t remind me. Gwendal tried explaining it to me, but I swear, he was using another language.”

Shori frowned. “Trade dispute?”

Murata pushed his glasses up. “The western merchants have been complaining about Bielefeld raising tariffs on certain imports. They claim it’s unfair and that it favors the aristocracy.”

Jennifer gasped. “Oh my! That sounds like a big problem.”

Murata nodded. “It is. If it’s not handled carefully, it could cause unrest among the merchant class. And if that happens, well… let’s just say Gwendal will have a lot more headaches.”

Yuri sighed. “I don’t get why we can’t just lower the tariffs a little and make everyone happy.”

Shori scoffed. “Because that’s not how politics works, Yuri. If you lower them for one group, then another group is going to demand the same thing. Then the nobility gets mad, then you have internal conflicts, and before you know it, there’s a rebellion.”

Yuri frowned. “...That escalated fast.”

Murata chuckled. “He’s not wrong.”

Jennifer tilted her head. “But Yu-chan, you’re the king, aren’t you? Can’t you just make a decision?”

Yuri groaned. “That’s what I thought when I first became Maou, but it turns out being king isn’t that easy. If I just force a decision, people get upset. And if I take too long, people still get upset.”

Murata smirked. “Welcome to politics.”

Shori leaned back, arms crossed. “You should listen to Gwendal more. He’s got the experience.”

Yuri pouted. “Yeah, yeah. But why does it always have to be so complicated?”

Murata smiled knowingly. “Because, Shibuya, ruling a kingdom isn’t as simple as stopping school bullies. It’s a delicate balance of power, negotiation, and knowing when to act.”

Yuri sighed. “Can’t I just punch the problem like I did earlier?”

Shori nearly choked on his curry. “What?!”

Murata grinned. “Oh, don’t worry. Your brother didn’t literally punch anyone. But let’s just say, his presence alone was enough to scare off a few lowlifes today.”

Shori frowned. “You better not be using magic in public, Yuri.”

Yuri waved his hands. “I didn’t! I swear! I just… stared at them really hard.”

Murata chuckled. “It was quite the royal display.”

Jennifer giggled. “That’s my Yu-chan! Standing up for his friends like a true king.”

Yuri sighed, resting his chin on his hand. “I just wish I was better at this whole ‘king’ thing. I feel like I’m always making mistakes.”

Murata’s expression softened. “You’re doing better than you think, Shibuya. The fact that you care so much is what makes you a good ruler. You’re not perfect, but you’re learning. And you have people in Shin Makoku who believe in you.”

Shori watched his little brother carefully, then let out a quiet sigh. “Just… don’t mess things up too badly, alright?”

Yuri blinked, then grinned. “Wow, was that actually encouragement, Shori?”

Shori scoffed. “Don’t push it.”

Murata chuckled. “Well, if nothing else, at least we have good curry tonight.”

Jennifer clapped her hands. “That’s the spirit! Now, who wants seconds?”

As the conversation shifted back to lighter topics, Yuri felt a little more at ease. Maybe being Maou was complicated, but as long as he had friends and family by his side, he figured he could handle whatever Shin Makoku threw at him next.

Even if that meant dealing with politics.

The next day, Yuri sat in class, tapping his pencil against his desk as their teacher handed back history exams. Murata, seated beside him, watched with mild amusement as their teacher’s face twisted in confusion while looking at Yuri’s paper.

“Shibuya…” The teacher sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose before finally placing the exam on Yuri’s desk.

Yuri hesitated before flipping it over.

40/100—with multiple red-inked question marks scattered across the pages.

His stomach dropped. Oh no.

Murata leaned over, peering at the corrections. “Hoo boy,” he murmured.

Yuri scanned his answers, his face turning red as he realized what he had done.

• Q: What was the main cause of the Meiji Restoration?

  • Yuri’s answer: After the fall of the previous Maou, the aristocrats in Shin Makoku struggled for control, leading to political instability. However, with the unification of human territories and demon clans under a single ruler, the nation was able to transition into a new era of peace and economic reform.

  • Teacher’s correction: ???

• Q: Who was Tokugawa Ieyasu, and what was his significance?

  • Yuri’s answer: A lesser-known human noble, probably equivalent to one of Shinou’s early advisors, though not nearly as influential as Gwendal. His policies attempted to bring stability, but they lacked the long-term vision of the Mazoku’s governance.

  • Teacher’s correction: NO.

• Q: Explain the impact of foreign influence on Japan during the late Edo period.

  • Yuri’s answer: While Japan dealt with foreign trade, it was nowhere near as complex as the diplomatic tensions between Shin Makoku and the human territories. Unlike Japan, where negotiations were led by shoguns and emperors, Shin Makoku relied on carefully arranged alliances between nobles and the royal court.

  • Teacher’s correction: SHIBUYA, WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?!

Yuri groaned, slumping over his desk. “Oh my god. I did not just write a whole exam on Shin Makoku history.”

Murata covered his mouth, barely stifling his laughter. “Oh, you definitely did.”

Yuri peeked at the bottom of the paper. His teacher had left one final comment in bold red ink:

"Please see me after class. Also, you need to stop reading fantasy novels before exams."

Murata finally lost it, shaking with quiet laughter. “Fantasy novels, huh? That’s one way to describe it.”

Yuri groaned louder. “Murata, I’m doomed.”

Murata patted his shoulder. “Oh, I cannot wait to see how you explain this to the teacher.”