Chapter Text
The first thing Clara Valac noticed about Iruma-chi wasn’t his lack of wings, though she did notice that many weeks later.
It was the way he landed.
Demons, even the clumsy ones, landed with a certain thud.
There was weight to them, a density of mana and malice that anchored them to the earth.
When Azz-Azz landed, it was like a spear hitting the ground.
When Clara herself landed, it was a chaotic tumble of boots and energy.
But Iruma-chi?
When Iruma fell, he didn't hit the ground like a demon.
He hit it like a leaf that had lost its way.
"Iruma-chi! Again! Again!"
It was a slow day that day; and Azz-azz was busy for a bit, so Clara and Iruma-chi were alone playing devi-tag.
Clara tackled him into the grass of the school courtyard.
It was early in their first term at Babyls.
She was heavy, solid and full of the chaotic, buzzing energy of the Valac bloodline.
When she collided with him, she expected the firm resistance of a demon’s torso, the instinctive tensing of muscles meant for competition.
Instead, Iruma felt... soft.
He felt like a plush toy made of thin fabric and dreams.
Underneath her, his heart wasn't thumping with the steady, aggressive drumbeat of a predator.
It was racing: a frantic, fluttering pitter-patter, like a bird trapped in a cage.
"C-Clara! Careful!" Iruma gasped, his face turning a shade of red that she had never seen on a demon’s skin before.
Clara blinked, her face inches from his.
She leaned in, sniffing loudly.
Fragile.
That was the word that popped into her head, though she didn’t know why.
Iruma-chi didn't smell like brimstone or the iron-tang of magic.
He smelled like that strange perfume he always wore, but underneath it... there was something quiet.
Something different.
"Iruma-chi," Clara said, her voice unusually still.
"You’re really squishy."
"I—I'm just not very sturdy, I guess!" he laughed nervously, his hands hovering near her shoulders, unsure if he should push her off.
His touch was light.
It didn't have the "grabby" intent of a demon who wanted something from her, like those meanies from a couple of weeks ago.
Clara rolled off him, sprawling in the grass and staring up at the purple sky.
She thought about how he looked when a teacher raised their voice.
She thought about how his eyes constantly scanned the hallways, not for someone to challenge, but for a place to hide.
Iruma-chi was scared.
He was scared of everything.
He was scared of the food, the stairs, the statues, and sometimes, he was even scared of her and Azz-azz and their classmates.
A normal demon would have seen that fear and bitten down.
They would have smelled the "prey" and sharpened their claws.
That was how the Netherworld worked.
You eat or you get eaten.
You climb or you get stepped on.
…
Clara turned her head to look at him.
Iruma was sitting up, dusting off his uniform with shaking hands, a small, relieved smile breaking through his terror because she hadn't hurt him.
He’s not like us, she thought.
It wasn't a logical thought.
She just knew, in the wild, instinctive way that the Valac family knew the woods and the fruits and the way to use her bloodline ability, that Iruma was a creature that didn't belong in a place this sharp.
If he was found out, someone would break him.
Not because they were mean, though many were, but because he was made of something that didn't know how to be a demon.
"Hey, Iruma-chi," Clara chirped, suddenly springing to her feet and shoving a handful of candy she’d pulled from her pockets into his face.
Iruma-chi blinked, startled. "Oh! Thank you, Clara."
"Eat up! You gotta get big and strong!" She beamed, watching him take a piece of chocolate.
She didn't care if he was a demon.
She didn't care if his wings were invisible or if he didn’t know how to play.
She had decided!
If Iruma-chi was a bird in a world full of devicats, she would just have to be the biggest, loudest, most confusing bird-house he’d ever seen.
I'll make sure Iruma-chi can relax, she promised herself, her tail wagging so hard it thwacked against the ground.
If he’s different, then it doesn’t matter, after all, different is my favorite thing!
"Clara? Is something wrong?" Iruma asked, tilting his head.
"Nope! Everything is great-y! Race you to the cafeteria! If you lose, you have to play 'Clara-Land' for three hours!"
"Wait! Three hours?! Clara, hold on!"
She ran, making sure to stay just slow enough so that he could keep up.
She didn't need to understand what he was.
She just needed to make sure he kept smiling.
Because as long as he was smiling, he wasn't shaking. And as long as he wasn't shaking, his secret was safe with her.