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The strangest thing about the Vortex World was how boring it could be.
Naoki knew by now to take what little scraps of downtime he could snatch; the Fountains felt great, seriously great, but they had a price, and he couldn’t go running back to something resembling civilization every time he needed a breather. At first, every time he sat down, he didn’t think he’d ever want to get up again, but now he’d gotten good at working out how long he could afford to kick back before he had to get moving again. It worked out.
But it was fucking boring. He had to keep his ears open, sure, and pay attention to the weird pulsing-humming-something he felt from the horn on his neck when a hostile demon thought it was being slick, but he swore most of them were like the T. rexes in Jurassic Park or whatever—if he found a spot out of the way and stayed pretty still, practically nothing tried to jump him. So all the hallways, tunnels, empty alleys—they blended together, because all he had to do was sit there, maybe knock back a Life Stone if anything was bleeding or bent the wrong way. If he’d known better, he’d have stuck a deck of cards in his pocket before he went to the hospital or something. A ball to throw against the wall. Anything.
Wait, no, he lost his hoodie in the Conception. It wouldn’t have mattered what he had in his pockets.
Motherfucker.
He’d taken some pretty hard falls fighting the Red Rider, and his leg still felt funny. He didn’t want to hang around in Ginza long, but he didn’t want to waste supplies—or energy—trying to heal it when he knew that it’d set itself right if he waited and let the magatama do whatever they did—were still doing—to his body. He didn’t like to think too much about that. Slowly eating him alive, maybe, but at this point, that felt like karma. He didn’t even flinch when he swallowed them anymore.
At least the underpass wasn’t the worst place to crash, anyway—the Fiend was the only thing that could put a scratch on the demons he had traveling with him, and he’d kicked its ass, so now it was just Slimes and Pretas and Nozuchis and small fries like that. The other demons didn’t really hang around him when there was no fighting going on, so at least here they could do whatever they were doing on their own and he didn’t have to worry about them.
“Hey! Are you alive in there?”
Well, most of them didn’t really hang around him.
Pixie hovered where the little alcove he’d staked his claim on met the main tunnel. She did a little happy flip in the air when he looked up and waved her over, like after all this time she was still pleasantly surprised every time he was nice to her.
She flitted over to him, bobbing in midair at his eye level. “Want some company?”
Naoki nodded; he felt like he should straighten up, make room for her somehow, but there wasn’t any shortage of room for her in the alcove. He sat up a little straighter anyway, resting his head against one of the pipes along the wall so the horn didn’t get in the way. His mom nagged him about posture, sometimes, if she caught him sprawling on the couch like he’d been doing on the ground here. It was rude, she’d tell him, and bad for his neck; it wasn’t like he could mess up his neck more than it already had been, but he didn’t want Pixie to feel unwelcome.
…He didn’t want to think about what his mom would think of him right now, either. He slouched down again, just a little, on purpose.
Pixie giggled, high and shimmery like a bell, or a wind chime, or maybe a cricket. “Good, I’m pooped. Do you mind?”
Mind what, he was about to ask, but by the time he’d opened his mouth she’d plopped down right in his lap. Her wings tickled his chest as she settled herself against him, before she got comfortable and tucked them, still, against her back. She was so light, even for her diminutive size—the top of her head would probably nearly reach his hips if she was standing on the ground, Naoki guessed, but she felt like she weighed less than Chiaki’s cat in the old world.
Part of him idly wondered if she had hollow bones, like a bird. The rest of him was still trying to catch up to the fact that she was sitting in his lap at all.
He kind of wanted to remind her that she was still a girl, even if she was a demon, and girls shouldn’t just do things like that with guys, but—she was a demon, and he didn’t really know what demon girls should and shouldn’t do. Shame didn’t really seem like something any demons felt much, girls included. The others he traveled with would probably think he was the weird one for getting nervous at all.
Naoki realized that his mouth was still hanging open, stupidly, and he swallowed. “I don’t. I don’t mind.”
Pixie giggled again, which made her wings flutter again; Naoki had never been that ticklish, but the featherlight flicks against his skin still made him squirm a little.
“Easy, big guy,” Pixie chirped. “I’m not going to bite you.”
She could. He’d seen her grin; she had fangs like he did now, little kitten teeth that were probably needle-sharp.
Naoki ran his tongue over the edges of his own teeth; they’d felt so weird when he’d first woken up, but now he couldn’t quite remember how his jaw slotted together when they were small and blunt. He thought Pixie might follow up with unless you want me to, but she didn’t, so he ended up just feeling like a bit of a pervert for thinking it, and more for the fact that he was kind of curious how it would feel.
He could just tell her that, he supposed, but he didn’t think he was quite enough of a demon to say something like that straight out. He didn’t think it would creep Pixie out—he wasn’t sure if anything he did could creep her out—but she might think it was stupid, and he’d rather she found him creepy than stupid. He made her laugh all the time, even when he didn’t mean to, but it never felt like she was laughing at him. That, he definitely didn’t want.
He wondered if any other demon guys felt that way about girls or guys or whatever they were into, too. He’d certainly never sat down and talked about girls with any of them—he didn’t really talk to any of them much, other than Pixie, and usually she started talking to him first. He hadn’t been much good at talking about girls with humans, either; he used to shoot the shit with Isamu, sometimes, but Isamu usually did most of the talking, and the way he heard other guys talk about that stuff always rubbed him the wrong way, the way they made girls sound like toys, prizes, meals.
Maybe some things weren’t that different between humans and demons after all, and he just wasn’t good at fitting in with either.
At least Pixie never minded when he didn’t know what to say—she could talk enough for both of them. She tipped her head back against his chest, staring up at him with her big pink eyes.
“Hey,” she said, and Naoki nodded for her to go on. “Those two humans from before… You know them, right?”
That was the question, wasn’t it? He wasn’t sure he did anymore, or if Chiaki and Isamu really knew him anymore, either. The way he’d changed had been written all over his body, but he’d wondered, listening to Chiaki talk about strength and weakness and a world full of useless baggage, if how alien those words sounded coming from the mouth of the girl whose pigtails he’d pulled when they were six had given him a taste of how she’d felt when she’d first seen him after the Conception.
“They were my friends,” he said after a moment, because that, at least, he knew was true.
“Hmmm.” Pixie pouted. “Even the girl?”
Naoki blinked. “Are you jealous?”
“A demon like you doesn’t need human girls,” Pixie said hotly, but her face fell. “…Even if you were human.”
Hesitantly—it wasn’t very demon-like of him to hesitate, was it?—he rested his thumb on Pixie’s leg, just above the curve of her knee. He could wrap one hand around her whole thigh, easy; he wasn’t that big a guy, even for a human, and he was a real shrimp next to a demon like Thor, but she was so tiny it made him feel huge and unwieldy and monstrous, like he could snap her in two without even meaning to. But she didn’t balk at him touching her at all. Of course she didn’t—she’d been the one who went and curled up in his lap like it was nothing the first place. It still felt nice, knowing that even after seeing him rip demons way bigger than her apart, she wasn’t afraid he’d hurt her. At least she felt safe with him, even if he didn’t really feel safe with himself.
“Does that bother you?” he asked. “That I was human.”
Pixie hummed, face going pensive. It took her a little longer to think about than Naoki would have liked, long enough that he started to get nervous, but eventually she shook her head, fluttering up into the air to get on his eye level again when she turned to face him.
He missed the weight of her in his lap right away, but he couldn’t pretend he wasn’t a little relieved she’d flown up to face him instead of staying where she was. Even thinking about trying to have a conversation with her straddling him made his mouth dry and his ears hot.
“It doesn’t bother me,” Pixie said, and stroked a line down the path of the tattoos on his chest. They all glowed brighter when she touched him, which just made him feel warmer. Pixie smirked, giving him a glimpse of those fangs. “You’re all demon.”
Naoki wasn’t all that sure about that; the Fiends said he had a human heart, after all, but Pixie made it sound like a compliment. The Fiends also said he’d lose his humanity if he kept doing what he was doing, anyway, so—maybe being all demon wasn’t all bad, either.
“Chiaki’s not my girlfriend,” he said, because that, too, was true. She probably would have been, someday—she didn’t want to date until after graduation, but they’d practically scheduled it. He’d liked her since he started noticing girls at all, and at some point down the line he knew she’d started liking him too, but she wanted to wait, and focus on school, and get into her first choice university, and then she wanted to be confessed to properly. He’d liked that she had it all planned out, and he wasn’t intending to disappoint her. But that was the old Chiaki. This Chiaki, with her cold eyes and her quiet, determined fury—she probably thought the old Naoki was unnecessary baggage, too. Maybe she always had, deep down, and she just liked him because she was used to him. “You don’t have to be jealous.”
If he were a little bolder, he could have said something cool—you’re the only girl I need, maybe, the kind of thing that could really make someone swoon. He wasn’t sure he’d ever be the kind of guy who’d be smooth enough to say things like that without choking, demon or no.
Pixie twirled in midair again, though, beaming, so he thought she might have gotten what he meant anyway.
“Saaaay,” she said. “Your friends—they called you ‘Naoki,’ right? Was that your name before?”
Naoki nodded, and she tucked herself up against his arm, wrapping her arms around his bicep.
“Humans have two, don’t they?” she asked, and Naoki narrowed his eyes.
“Isn’t it supposed to be dangerous to tell a faerie your real name?”
Pixie giggled, a little too coyly. “What makes you say that?”
“I read that if you give a faerie your real name, it gives them power over you.” He turned to look at her properly; if she leaned in a little closer, they’d be almost nose to nose. “Is that what you want?”
“That only works on humans.” Pixie blew a raspberry at him, but then she did lean in a little further, giving him a cheeky wink. “But now that you mention it, don’t you think that sounds kind of fun?”
She lowered her voice, her chest pressed against his shoulder and her breath warm on his face. “I wouldn’t make you do anything you wouldn’t like.”
“Um,” Naoki said, eloquently, more grateful than ever that she wasn’t sitting in his lap anymore. Pixie laughed, pinching his cheeks with both hands.
“I didn’t know you could get that red,” she said. “I’m just kidding, silly.”
It would be okay if she wasn’t, he thought, and quickly banished that to the same recess of his mind as that weird little part of him that wanted her to bite him. He wondered if he owed Isamu an apology for anything he’d ever said about his taste in women, but the way things were, he doubted he’d have a chance to fit it into their next conversation, if they ever saw each other again at all.
“I have a better idea, anyway,” Pixie continued, doing another lazy flip in the air. “I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.”
Some obvious look of confusion must have come out on his face without him realizing, because a moment later she twirled backward through the air like she'd been struck, eyes wide.
“Wait, wait, wait,” she said. “Did you think I don’t have a name? What do you think Pixies call each other?”
Naoki shrugged helplessly. Of course he felt silly now that she pointed it out, but he hadn’t really thought about it. She was just Pixie to him, and Oni was Oni, Naga was Naga—it wasn’t like they introduced themselves as anything else.
If anything, he’d figured it was a situation like the nurses in Pokémon, but she wouldn’t get that reference even if he told her.
“You’ve got a lot to learn about being a demon after all,” Pixie said, crossing her arms, but she was still grinning at him. “You’re lucky you’ve got me to show you what’s what.”
“I am,” he agreed, and her smile softened to something still playful, but so plainly affectionate that he couldn’t help but smile back.
“So, deal? If I know your name and you know mine,” she said, snuggling up to his arm again, “we’re only as powerful as each other.”
Naoki blinked. “I thought you said that only affected humans.”
“Because it’s not like that,” Pixie insisted, “but names are powerful in this world. You need to be careful who you give yours to. Soooo, don’t tell anyone but me, okay?”
He wasn’t sure if she was serious, or if she was just being jealous again, but he didn’t think he minded either way. “Only if you don’t tell anyone else yours, either.”
She nodded. “I like that. You first?”
“Naoki Kashima,” he said. It hadn’t been that long since he’d last had to introduce himself by his full name, he was sure—he didn’t know exactly how long it had been since the Conception, but it couldn’t be more than days, maybe weeks. It already felt strange on his tongue, strange to connect to himself. He still thought of himself as Naoki before he thought of himself as the Demi-fiend, but Naoki Kashima was someone else. Even if Pixie was lying about the faerie magic only working on humans—which he was sure she wasn’t—he wasn’t sure it would even work with that name anymore.
If anything, the most powerful thing about it was that it meant something to her.
“Naoki Kashima,” she repeated, a dreamy look in her eyes. “Naoki Kashima. How do you write that? I wanna know.”
He didn’t have anything to write with, but he told her the kanji anyway. Though she nodded along like she understood, he was pretty sure she didn’t actually know the characters, at least not by memory.
“I’ll show you sometime,” Naoki said. He was sure the Shopkeeper or the Collector would have a pen somewhere, or a piece of chalk, or he could just find a stick and a patch of sand. Sure enough, Pixie looked relieved, but he didn’t bother trying to get her to admit she was bluffing. “You can teach me yours too.”
“Right! My turn,” Pixie said. “Close your eyes until I tell you to open them, okay?”
“Why do I have to close my eyes?” Naoki asked, but he did as she said without waiting for an explanation. A moment later, he felt her nose brush against his ear, and she whispered a name, so quiet he almost wasn’t sure he heard her over the beat of her wings.
He opened his mouth to repeat it, to hear it in his own voice, feel how it felt on his tongue, but as soon as he did, she put her hands over his eyes and pressed her lips against his. His breath hitched in his throat, and he grabbed at the air in front of him, blindly finding the curve of her hips with the tips of his fingers and holding her there. Her hands slid down to his jaw, tipping his chin up for better leverage, bracing herself with a knee on his collarbone.
He murmured her name against her mouth, half just to be sure he’d actually gotten it right. For a moment he thought he’d done something wrong, because she broke away, but then she matched him with a breathless little giggle of “Naoki,” and kissed him again, and again—the corner of his mouth, his chin, his nose, both his eyelids. He dutifully kept his eyes shut as she pecked her way over his whole face, his cheeks burning hot and his tattoos practically vibrating in his skin when she ended up back where she started, nipping at his lower lip.
“You can open your eyes,” his Pixie said, and he did, taking in the sight of her, her lips red and her face flushed. He felt a little drunk, almost like he’d been charmed, but he knew the signs of that by now, knew her well enough to know she wouldn’t. That she didn’t have to. He already wanted to kiss her again, to go back for more of the Magatsuhi he could taste on his lips, like the aftertaste of a Chakra Drop but sweeter, and just take until he’d had his fill and she had done the same.
He hooked his fingers around her thigh—one hand, easy, like he thought. He’d never kissed Chiaki before, or any other girl, for that matter; he’d kissed Isamu, once, but they’d been fourteen and a little buzzed after Isamu sneaked a couple beers from his older brother. That had somehow been way more awkward despite them both being humans the same size, and they’d both agreed it didn’t count anyway. It certainly hadn’t been anything like this.
Maybe his heart was changing already, like the Horsemen said, but—he didn’t think he minded.
“That can stay between us too,” his Pixie said, brushing her thumb over his bottom lip. Naoki nodded, catching her wrist as she started to pull away and pressing another clumsy kiss to her palm. She laughed, bumping her forehead against his. “Who would believe the Demi-fiend’s a big softie, anyway?”
“Hey,” he said, and snapped his teeth at her like he was going to bite her. She just laughed again, and he found himself grinning right back at her.
“Softie,” she insisted. She pushed his hair off his forehead with both hands, kissing him where his tattoos disappeared beneath his hairline—probably the last place left on his face she hadn’t kissed already. “Feeling better?”
“Huh?”
“From that Fiend,” she said, raising her eyebrows at him. “It really did a number on you, right? Are you feeling better?”
Naoki patted his leg experimentally, but he already knew the ache was long gone; in the time she’d been here, he’d practically forgotten why he even needed the rest in the first place.
“I feel great,” he said, pulling himself to his feet. Pixie floated alongside him, level with his head. “The company helped.”
“Of course it did,” Pixie said, patting his cheek. “Guess you’d better get going, big guy.”
Feeling daring, Naoki leaned over to kiss her again, along the curve of her jaw beneath her ear. The terminal wasn’t that far, and he felt better now than he ever had fresh from the Fountain. He had a new strength now, maybe, a new sense of purpose. The boys in the soccer club had always played better with a pretty girl watching. Maybe this was that, but—more apocalyptic.
But hey, if it worked.
“And you’re coming with me,” Naoki said. Pixie draped her arms around his neck, leaning against his shoulder.
“Wherever you go,” she said, and no matter how uncertain the future was—no matter how little he could trust about what the world would become, what he would become if he continued down the path he’d been set on—he knew he could believe her.