Cifer

Chapter 1 - Heartless Naïf

Chapter 2 - Tithes

Chapter 3 - Necessary Implications

Chapter 4 - Creeping Night

Chapter 5 - Por Favor

Chapter 6 - Fall from Grace

Chapter 7 - Good Night Moon

Chapter 8 - Empty Vessel

Chapter 9 - Pirouette

Chapter 10 - In the Eye

Chapter 11 - Manifested Desires

Chapter 12 - From the Sky

Chapter 13 - Without Wings

Chapter 14 - Nail in the Coffin

Chapter 15 - In My Hand

Chapter 16 - Sunny Days Aren't So Bad

Chapter 17 - Night's Comfort

Chapter 18 - Anochecer

Chapter 19 - Heart of Mine

Chapter 20 - Eternal Night

Side Stories and Other Accompaniments

Side Story 1 - Valentine's Special

Noche Eterna Playlist

Ulquiorra Beach Art

Side Story 2 - Halloween Special

On one side, there’s a large conifer tree, with lights and baubles strewn upon it and boxes wrapped like presents beneath; they'd already exchanged the real ones.

Ulquiorra takes a sip of cider.

Luke and Barbatos stand beside him, talking about recipes. Together, the two of them had baked enough cookies, cakes, and pastries, all decorated and decadent, to even keep Beel busy for some time.

Once in a while, the little angel rubs his face and sniffles; for someone who had such distaste towards demons in the beginning, he seems to have grown rather attached to the Devildom. And to Ulquiorra, as Luke clung to him when he arrived.

On their other side, Simeon laughs at something Satan is talking about with Belphegor.

The music slows, and Mammon coughs, sliding up next to him. “Hey, uh, Ulq.” He clears his throat. “Do you wanna dance?”

Ulquiorra raises an eyebrow. “Dance?”

“I mean, yeah. It’s silly. I was gonna ask you at the retreat but you disappeared, and uh, you were busy with Satan at Lord Diavolo’s birthday, and I just thought… Nah, it’s weird. Just forget it.”

Ah. He looks like someone who’s been kicked in the stomach.

“Is this about me leaving tomorrow?” The angels are due back in the Celestial Realm this evening, and Solomon has an engagement in the human realm, but his accommodations are still being prepared.

Mammon’s face snaps up, the tremble of his lip and gloss of his eyes gives away the truth. “I ain’t–”

“Let’s go.”

He doesn’t wait for Mammon, walking towards where Asmo and Solomon dance, rocking slowly in each others’ arms.

Mammon catches up, his hand a little sweaty when he holds Ulquiorra’s. His other hand rests on Ulquiorra’s waist, and Ulquiorra resigns himself to be led about the small space.

Mammon hums with the pace, as if counting the steps. He’s maybe too close, but he doesn’t step on Ulquiorra’s toes. His warmth seeps into Ulquiorra.

“I know you’re not normal about emotions and such, but are ya… are ya excited to start your life in the human realm?”

Ulquiorra sidesteps, trying to keep his feet in time with the music and Mammon’s direction.

“I will be supplied with everything I need to start my life there, and Lord Diavolo and Solomon will check in with me periodically. I have no need for concern.”

He pauses.

“Though it will be strange; I’ll have my own apartment. After living with you and your brothers for so long, it will be different.”

“Quieter, for sure.”

In Hueco Mundo, the silence stifled between the howling wind and the sifting of the sand. The sound of fighting, blood dripping, teeth gnashing in flesh, fell away. But it was always a soul-sucking kind of silence. The silence of a burial. The silence of absence. Hunger. Death.

Isolation.

He’ll be alone.

Mammon’s hand twitches, and Ulquiorra loosens his grip. He’d been squeezing too hard.

“I’m sure you’ll be fine. You can come see us any time, ya know. And you’ll have your DDD, so your favorite demon is just a couple taps away. ‘Course, you’ll probably make friends, and find things to keep you busy, so– well, I know you can do anything, so….” Mammon’s lip is trembling, but he takes deep breaths. “So don’t be too upset, okay? We’ll keep your room just the way it is, so come back any time you feel like it.”

It’s an urge that’s hard to quell.

Ulquiorra pulls at Mammon’s shoulder.

It’s all it takes for Mammon to abandon their dance, wrapping his arms around Ulquiorra. He sniffles, holding Ulquiorra as close as possible, enough that Ulquiorra’s lungs can’t expand properly, but it’s not important.

He wraps his arms around Mammon’s shoulders. Mammon’s head rests on Ulquiorra’s shoulder, at the crook of his neck.

The room doesn’t falter, though they receive a couple sympathetic looks.

Mammon’s breath shudders, and Ulquiorra knows he’s fighting tears.

They stand like that, until Mammon’s grip loosens and Ulquiorra can breathe again. Mammon pulls back. “Sorry. I’m just gonna miss ya.”

Ulquiorra nods. “I will find myself in some long silences, living alone. I may need to call upon you to remedy the quiet.”

“Heh,” Mammon snorts, ruffling his white hair and fixing a smile on his face. His eyes glint with gold, and Ulquiorra feels his pact mark stir. “Yeah, yeah. You’re getting better at compliments. You’re gonna come back all, ‘Hiya, The Great Mammon, you’re so awesome, I can’t believe I get to be in your presence!’”

“Unlikely,” Ulquiorra clicks his tongue. “Though,” he fixes where his arms had ruffled Mammon’s rad jacket, then surveys the rest of Mammon’s appalling attempt to dress himself, realizing it did not matter. “I shall miss you as well.”

Mammon’s grin softens, and he bumps his head against Ulquiorra’s. “Silly human. I’ll count on it.”

Someone clears their throat gently. “Perhaps I could cut in, once the two of you are done flirting?” Asmo teases.

Mammon’s mouth falls open and his face rouges. “Oi! Go find your own human, will ya?” His arms are still wrapped around Ulquiorra.

Eventually they cease their squabbling, and Asmo is smiling down at him, swaying him to the tune of another festive Devildom song. Asmo’s hands rest on his shoulders, his own on Asmo’s waist.

“So, ready to go spread your wings, little bat?” He can smell Asmo’s rose perfume. “The house will be strange without you, you know. Who will I have to pamper?”

“I’m sure you’ll be able to amuse yourself,” Ulquiorra tuts.

“Well of course, but I mean, it won't be the same as touching you.” As if to emphasize, soft fingers twirl his hair. “I’ll be so lonely,” he sighs, turning his face with a hurt look. “You won’t forget me, will you? I mean, it’s impossible of course, but you know I–” he cuts himself off, biting his lip and meeting Ulquiorra’s eyes. “A bit much?”

“Of course I will not forget you, Asmodeus.”

A grin breaks across the demon’s face, and his lips tickle Ulquiorra’s nose in a brief kiss. “You’re so cute. Want to come over to my room later?”

“Lucifer has requested to talk to me after we get back to the House.”

“Aw, what about after? I have some massage oils that I bet would make you moa–”

Diavolo’s voice booms. “Attention, please! It’s time to bid farewell to Simeon, Luke, and Solomon. Please line up to say goodbye.”

Asmo smiles at him again, “I suppose our time is over. A shame, darling.”

Asmo’s lips press at the corner of his, lingering, before he pulls away. “I’ll miss you.”

Everyone lines up on either side of the entryway as Barbatos begins chanting. Solomon approaches him in due time. “I’ll be seeing you in the human world, to check in from time to time,” he ruffles Ulquiorra’s hair like good-natured friends, and Ulquiorra suppresses his initial annoyance. Light like fire flickers to life at the portal.

“I suppose I’ll see you then.”

“Until then,” Solomon nods, and then Simeon is smiling at him. Ulquiorra breathes in. He’d forgotten to for a moment. Those eyes are nearly blinding. Simeon opens his mouth to say something.

“Ulqui!” The breath leaves him again, and he nearly keels over. Once he regains his footing, he pats the top of Luke’s head with a sigh. “I’m going to miss you so so so much!” He’s sniffling again, but visibly fighting back his tears. His lips tremble, and his watery eyes make Ulquiorra’s chest twist.

“I will miss you as well, Luke.”

Luke sobs, eyes spilling over. He nods, pulls his face away, and Simeon guides him forward.

“Until the next time our paths cross,” Simeon says as he smiles at him, “I’ll make sure to keep an eye out for you from the Celestial Realm.”

“Me too,” Luke wipes his face with his sleeve. “I’ll send you some pastries if I can.”

“I’ll look forward to it,” Ulquiorra nods.

And then they step into the warped, glowing portal. And then they’re gone, and the portal fades.

If there is such a thing like happiness in this world, it should resemble the endless nothingness.

The lights are dim in the office, the fireplace crackling low.

The smell of fire and dust and old books fills Lucifer’s study.

Lucifer opens a crystal decanter, pouring amber liquid into two glasses. He straightens, offering one to Ulquiorra and gesturing to one of the two armchairs facing the fire. Ulquiorra takes the glass and sits, Lucifer sitting next to him.

The fire laps at the logs, sparks rising into the air and petering out, crackling gently.

The drink swishes as he looks at it. It’s Lucifer, he reminds himself. There’s no longer anything to worry about.

He raises the glass to his lips.

“It’s almost the end of the exchange program.” Lucifer takes a sip, staring off to the shelves lined in fancy bottles of demonus and old tomes. “I must say, I don’t think you resisted the temptations of demons, per se, though your soul has certainly been polished. Any demon would covet the way it shines.”

“Is that so?”

Lucifer nods. “It's a soul polished with desire, but not excess. A soul that shines with the light of curiosity and the need for understanding. You've become a human that no longer holds himself back.”

Lucifer raises his eyes to Ulquiorra.

“Despite the undesirable events that inhibited you, I wish to thank you for helping to make it a success. You have truly outshined any expectations we had for you. As one of the administrators, I thank you for your contribution.”

Red eyes burn into him. “In return, you will find life in the human world to be eased. We will supply what you need in order to live there comfortably.”

The drink burns down his throat, and Ulquiorra finds himself relishing its warmth.

“I must also thank you for looking after my brothers. Despite my best efforts, they have grown to care for you.” His voice warms from the formal tone as he continues. “And I believe that to be a good thing. You’ve made them happy. For that, you will be welcome here, should you return.”

There’s something more.

Lucifer smiles, his face relaxed and soft despite his constant haughtiness. “I apologize for how I’ve treated you under the guise of protecting my brothers. Thank you for allowing us to grace your life in such a way. How have you found the exchange program, after everything? Tell me.”

Ulquiorra takes another sip, thinking. How has the exchange program been? What has it meant to him?

“It has changed everything for me. Nothing in my lives before ever prepared me for such a change. This program made me,” he licks his lip. “It made me reflect on who I am. What I am. It has made me desire to return to those I knew before, and to try and understand them. To be truthful, your brothers are the very reason for this change.”

“You’ve changed them just as much. I see. Is there anything you set out to do during the exchange that you haven’t done yet? Any last goals to fulfill before you leave?”

His smile tilts at the edge, as if he’s teasing Ulquiorra. But what for? Is there anything he left unfinished?

Lucifer finishes his demonus, setting the glass down. “You’ve made pacts with all of my brothers. Perhaps that is sufficient for you.”

“I’m not out to collect the set,” Ulquiorra stares at him, wondering if this is the game. Does Lucifer want him to ask? “I have yet to make a pact with you, however.”

“A pact, you say?” Lucifer stands, still smiling. He offers his hand, guiding Ulquiorra to his feet and taking Ulquiorra’s glass to set on the table. “Do you truly wish to make a pact with me?” Lucifer’s gloved hand keeps hold of Ulquiorra’s. “I am not like my brothers.”

Lucifer’s magic begins to press down on Ulquiorra as his body shifts. Black wings fill the air. Obsidian horns stretch up from black hair. “I am not a name to check off your list, or a thing to collect.” A black diamond forms in the midst of his forehead.

Ulquiorra stays steady.

“Your bravery is as irritating as it is endearing. Listen closely. I will not be your possession. I won't belong to you: You will belong to me. So, what will it be? Will you make a pact with me, Ulquiorra?”

Ulquiorra frowns. “I belong to no one. I am no one’s sword nor plaything, not any longer.” Ulquiorra pulls his hand back, but Lucifer tightens his hold without hurting Ulquiorra’s hand. His smile softens.

“Very well. Because of your treatment of my brothers, and because of how you’ve changed our relationships for the better, and because of how you’ve changed me, I will make a pact with you where it is not said that either owns the other, nor offer a condition or price. Equals… I can do that for you.”

The vulnerability in Lucifer’s eyes, in his voice, stirs Ulquiorra’s chest. “...Then I agree.”

“Then it is settled. I, Lucifer, Avatar of Pride,” he continues in Ancient Infernal as the pain rises in Ulquiorra’s body, “offer this pact to Ulquiorra in return that he may accept my thanks. Our pact is bound by the magic that courses through our veins and the hope in our hearts as we look forward to our future. I bind my soul to his, in order to understand one another better. I accept his intent and order, until the binds to this world rend us apart. Until death, do I pledge myself. To be sealed with–,” Lucifer’s eyes burn crimson, the pain white-hot as it courses through his body, worse than any pain he’s felt before, even after being destroyed by a close-range cero. It grips him in its claws, tearing him apart at the seams. “--Whatever he so chooses.”

He can’t even see. He nearly collapses, his head on Lucifer’s chest.

“A hug, then.” Lucifer wraps his arms around Ulquiorra’s back, holding him steady.

At the base of his throat, where his hollow hole laid, the pain settles, the brand bringing a stinging to his tear ducts. He can feel the magic coursing through his body, through his veins, and he can’t stand. Mammon’s pact was nowhere near this painful. It’s as if every pore of his soul caught fire.

When he can finally breathe, he’s held close in Lucifer's arms.

After he first met Lucifer, he disliked him. That only grew with every interaction and every word out of the demon’s mouth. But now, Lucifer watches him. His face is a neutral smile, but his eyes are happy. Proud.

Lucifer only wanted to take care of his brothers. And now, Ulquiorra would willingly join him in that endeavor. A gloved hand rests on the back of his head, Lucifer warm against him.

He may be irritating and controlling, but he wants the best for those under his care. Even Ulquiorra, a stranger under his roof, has found himself in Lucifer’s arms to receive comfort.

Aizen used them. He found lost souls and fed them his idea of a new world, one they were never meant to be a part of. He killed them, drugged them, left them to die, made them fight his battles. Until the end, Ulquiorra knew he was doomed for execution; if not by an enemy soul reaper or one of the Arrancar, then by Aizen himself. Aizen dismissed his own creations and sealed their miserable fates without any remorse.

He sent them to their deaths.

Aizen held him like an empty trophy.

And Lucifer holds him as if he never wants to let go.

I ENVY BECAUSE OF THE HEART I GLUTTON BECAUSE OF THE HEART I COVET BECAUSE OF THE HEART I AM PRIDEFUL BECAUSE OF THE HEART I SLOTH BECAUSE OF THE HEART I RAGE BECAUSE OF THE HEART BECAUSE OF THE HEART I LUST FOR EVERYTHING ABOUT YOU.

Satan’s arms are warm around him, his voice a grumble as Ulquiorra’s alarm buzzes. The arms tighten, pulling him back into Satan’s chest. Despite this, he still reaches his DDD and turns the alarm off, then sets it back down.

“You could stay. There are enough books in my room, you could probably hide for a while.” Satan’s voice is still rough with sleep.

“You know I can’t.” Ulquiorra sighs, though his eyes close. Satan’s room is cold, but he and the blankets are warm. He could say he overslept.

After he made a pact with Lucifer, Satan was waiting for him in the library. A simple invitation led them to spend the night together.

“Are you sure?” Satan grins at him. “Perhaps there’s something that would convince you.”

Ulquiorra raises an eyebrow. “Like what?”

“Like…” Satan moves his face closer. “Maybe I’ll steal all of your clothes. You can’t leave naked, can you?”

Ulquiorra pulls away to glare. “You,” he points, “should be grateful that I have not decided to retaliate for that stunt you and Solomon pulled at the retreat.”

Satan rolls onto his back, stretching with a crooked smile. “Yeah? I’m so scared.”

“Tsk,” Ulquiorra sits up. He runs a hand through his hair, finding it more tangled than usual. “Where are my clothes?”

“Near the door, I think.” Satan watches him unhelpfully as he traipses the narrow ravines of books. Eventually he finds them, looking forward to changing into something clean before he leaves the Devildom.

“Hey Ulquiorra?”

He glances up from turning his shirt out.

Satan sits up from the bed, ruffling his golden hair. The early morning moonlight catches it, and the blankets fall from his body. “Want a shower? I can get your clothes from your room.”

And so he steps into Satan’s tiny ensuite, turning the tap and easing into the hot water, letting it soothe his muscles.

He lathers Satan’s soap on his body, taking his time to let the smell of cinnamon overtake his own scent. By the time he sees Satan through the clouded glass, he’s rinsing the suds from his skin.

Satan opens the door, slipping in behind him and grabbing his shampoo. “Here,” his voice is as soothing as the hot water.

He leads Ulquiorra back by the shoulder, to his chest, opening the cap and beginning to run the soap through Ulquiorra’s hair.

In the silence between them, the water pattering on the tile and fogging the glass and catching on their skin, Satan washes his hair. He untangles the knots tenderly with his fingers.

He rinses, then goes back in again with more shampoo, scrubbing gently into Ulquiorra’s scalp before rinsing it again.

Satan is thorough, rinsing all of the soap out and applying conditioner to the ends. And then he wraps his arms around Ulquiorra.

And Satan holds him, head on Ulquiorra’s shoulder. His breath tickles Ulquiorra’s nape.

There’s a sense of belonging that cracks at Ulquiorra’s resolve to leave, and it washes over him as Satan pulls away to rinse out the conditioner.

And then Satan leads him by the hand, out of the shower, and Ulquiorra lets him run a towel along his hair and his body. He doesn’t know why it feels so comfortable to let Satan touch him how he pleases, but he soaks in the tender way Satan cares for him.

Satan dresses him, a reverence in the way he adjusts Ulquiorra’s clothes, unlike his treatment of the ones he wore last night.

And then Satan kisses his forehead, not smiling but looking into Ulquiorra’s eyes.

“Spend some time thinking about me?”

The question holds a promise. A desire. A longing.

“I promise.”

And then a smile warms Satan’s face. “Good.” Ulquiorra meets him halfway, their lips meeting. This kiss doesn’t spark passion, nor desire, nor curiosity.

It’s a gentle pain, in his chest.

And Satan pulls away, and Ulquiorra can see the same pain reflected in his eyes.

“You’ll think of me as well?”

“It’d be impossible not to.” Satan rubs their noses together. “I’ll see you soon, though. I’m sure of that.”

Ulquiorra nods, but the promise doesn’t ease the pain.

Satan pulls away, the lament clear in the frown of his brown. “You should gather your things.”

Ulquiorra turns, then glances back at Satan. In his eyes. At his lips. To his bare chest. A heart beats there, he’s heard it under his head. Felt it under his palm.

He’s seen it in Satan’s eyes.

It’s a quiet walk back to his room.

Mammon is inside when he walks in, sitting on top of one of Ulquiorra’s suitcases– courtesy of Lord Diavolo– and attempting to zip it closed.

“I had those arranged last night.”

“Oi, you still had stuff in my room,” Mammon huffs, fighting with the zipper. “And Asmo told me to put more products in your bag, and Beel gave you some snacks, and Belphegor insisted on you having one of his blankets, and–” Mammon growls, nearly falling off the suitcase when it finally zips closed. “Ugh! There!”

Ulquiorra tuts. “You’re all ridiculous.”

Mammon stands, placing his hands on his hips. “Like you ain’t.” He raises an eyebrow.

Ulquiorra grabs one of his suitcases, and Mammon picks up the other and his duffel bag.

He doesn’t comment as they venture to the entrance hall, past the chairs in the hallway, and the kitchen, and the dining room. They pass the common room, then the gargoyles.

Lord Diavolo and Barbatos are waiting for them at the entrance, as well as the other brothers. They wouldn’t miss this, even Belphegor rubs his eyes and yawns.

Diavolo nods to Barbatos, who begins to prepare the portal. “It’s been a pleasure, Ulquiorra. I hope you have learned from your time here, and I hope to see you again once you establish your life as a human.”

Lucifer nods. “It’s certainly proved to be an experience, hosting you here, Ulquiorra.”

“Don’t come back all normie, ok?” Levi’s face is turned down, covered by his hair. “And don’t forget to brush up on your human manga, ok? Tell me everything you learn!”

“If you get lonely, don’t forget to talk to someone. If it’s you, we want to make sure you’re happy. And don’t forget to eat.” Beel chews his lip.

Asmo blots his eye with a cloth– mouchoir. “Don’t forget to take care of yourself. I included some additional products that will help with the sun.”

“Send pictures of any cats you see,” Satan smiles. The rims of his eyes are reddened against his pale skin.

“Hmm,” Belphegor yawns again. “Come back soon so we can nap together.”

Mammon hands him his bags. “I guess we’ll see ya around.” His lip trembles, but he tries to hold it back. “You gotta come back and see us, got it? And take care of yourself, just because there ain’t demons doesn’t mean you can walk around and not pay attention.”

Ulquiorra takes in the care shown by these demons as he nears the portal. Barbatos stands.

“May fortune favor your journey.” Barbatos bows, nodding his head to the portal.

He takes one last look back at the place he has called his home. The beings that he could consider his family. He steps forward.

The white light surrounds him, then turns black. It takes a moment for his eyes to adjust.

On the other side of the portal is a dark room. It’s almost familiar. He steps through, keeping his bag over his shoulder, glancing back at the portal to see that the demons are gone. There’s only a window with a view of a city. Lights twinkle in the dawn, behind the fading portal. He looks forward again to the room. It is familiar.

He steps out, something soft under his feet.

“Ooomph!” It moves underneath him and he steps off their stomach, glancing down to spot orange hair and sleepy eyes that widen. “What the–”

Kurosaki?

“--Ulquiorra?”

El Fin

Masterlist

To one crazy year and a half, Noche Eterna,

Thank you for being my creation.

And, thank you to all of my readers. Especially the commenters who have been so kind, as I share this work with you as a piece of me. The world is not so lonely, and we are all worthy of care.

After she read the chapter Creeping Night, where Mammon plays with Ulquiorra's hair.

I did some-- maybe too much-- research and thinking about Ulquiorra's possible traumas from literally dying over and over for centuries

"[...]I have no complaints.” -Ulquiorra in Creeping Night again

When I didn't give bbg attention and was writing the fanfic they were reading and making memes of.

“Uaaaaauuuuu!!!!” Leviathan nearly screams into Ulquiorra’s ear, startling Mammon awake. “Every time I see it I just– more and more–” and Ulquiorra tunes out the monologue that will surely last twelve more hours.

Mammon rubs his eyes, yawning and letting go of Ulquiorra. His breath left a damp spot on Ulquiorra’s shirt where he’d laid his head on Ulquiorra’s shoulder, his whole side warm from where Mammon had cuddled into him.

The other side didn’t fare much better. Levi’s hands shake his shoulder with excited emphasis as he prattles, though he’s no longer cuddled up to Ulquiorra either, now facing him to chatter endlessly. Levi isn’t as warm as Mammon, but still managed to make Ulquiorra feel boiled between the two of his first pacts.

Not even his legs were spared. Though Beel left hours ago to find more snacks, now Belphegor’s head is laid at an awkward position on Ulquiorra’s knees as he snores lightly.

“-- and honestly that part is one of my favorites because–”

It’s been a month since Diavolo’s birthday party, and the end of the term is approaching quickly. The demons don’t like to talk about it, but there’s only a little more than two weeks left. Exam prep has them cranky, and Ulquiorra is still working on his end of term report. Then, Levi insisted on a rewatch marathon of TSL, like they had done when Ulquiorra arrived in the Devildom. Mammon insisted on joining, and Beel wanted to watch if there were snacks, and Belphegor was sad that he’d missed the first one.

And Ulquiorra is still stuck between demons. Though it’s not that awful anymore.

There’s a knock at the door, and Satan opens it before Levi can ask for a password.

“Is Ulquiorra in here?”

Levi’s lips turn to a pout, and Mammon, now stretching, snaps his attention back to his brother.

Satan only grins at their obvious displeasure at having their time interrupted. Ulquiorra doesn’t find him to be jealous often, as Asmodeus has kissed him and seen him naked more than once and Satan never batted an eye, and Satan knows about the others’ affections for him, though Ulquiorra is still curious about the intricacies of demon relationships.

“I am here,” Ulquiorra looks over the couch.

“Barbatos sent that package over for you,” Satan smiles, holding up a small box.

Levi looks at Ulquiorra again, his hands retreating. “Package?”

Ulquiorra nods. “It should be the device that allows me to shift from this human form to my arrancar form.” Ulquiorra stands, jostling Belphegor who slides down to the floor, still asleep.

They grumble, but don’t follow.

When they arrive in his bedroom, Ulquiorra opens the package, unveiling a silver locket charm with an emerald fixed into the front.

It’s attached to a necklace chain, and when he opens it, he sees a skull decal engraved into one side of the metal, and an hourglass fixed to the other side, with a dowel that allows it to flip.

“I had Barbatos add a personal touch,” Satan murmurs, and Ulquiorra turns his head to see Satan behind him, face inches from his own.

“An hourglass?” Ulquiorra’s brows furrow and he remembers the wooden hourglass that he’d smashed when Satan attacked him. The memory of Satan’s face covered in blood wasn’t one that he’d found important at the time, but now it sticks to his skull.

Satan nods. “I saved some of the sand from my old one. I made two,” he moves in front of Ulquiorra and pulls a necklace from his collar by the chain.

A small silver hourglass dangles in a circular dial. “This way, we both can remember our time together. The good and the bad.” Satan’s eyes burn into his. “Sometimes things happen when we least expect it, and I think change is the epitome of a life worth living.”

Ulquiorra nods, flicking the tiny hourglass in his locket and watching the sand fall.

“And if you touch the other side, your human and soul form will separate. You should probably sit or lay down, or else your body will fall. You should try it now so I can monitor any issues.”

Ulquiorra nods, and lays down on his bed. Satan sits in his desk chair, grabbing a small notebook and a pen from his pocket.

His thumb finds the engraving, and the magic causes the room to seem like it’s spinning.

Some sort of emotion overwhelms him.

It’s terrible and awful and has claws like the hunger that eats his stomach from the inside. It is nearly too much at once.

He sits up. He didn’t realize how heavy his human body was, now that he’s removed it. He glances back, seeing it lying on the bed like a corpse. He looks away before he can think about it.

His hands reach up, feeling the hole below his collarbones. His mask, smooth like stone. His elbow brushes his zanpakuto, and he can finally feel its presence at his side, inside his bones. Maybe in his heart, who knows?

He feels his spirit energy, which rattled the furniture and trinkets in his room when he was released from the human body.

Satan grins from where he sits at Ulquiorra’s desk. “Beautiful.”

Ulquiorra rolls his eyes. Satan always tells him that.

Satan turns the floor-length mirror towards Ulquiorra, and he’s lucky to no longer need breath in his lungs.

His estigma, his tears, his lips. His mask, the hole in his chest, his zanpakuto. If he wouldn’t destroy the house, he’d release his resurreccion just to see it. Barbatos even dressed his soul in simple reishi fabric.

The transfer and rerouting of power in his human form was a long operation, but a successful one. Now, when he’s in his human form, the magic flows naturally and he can focus his energy. But now, he feels it in every nerve and muscle. He can feel it on his skin, in his skin, in his bones.

He missed himself, sure. He can admit that now.

But the gnawing of his stomach and the itching of his teeth for flesh and his hands begging for blood make him nauseous. It had been so long since he was hungry. When he was an arrancar before, he had been used to it, but now its sharpened edge wears at him.

He feels the call, and relaxes his shoulders. He hadn’t realized how tense he became.

“Are you alright?”

He nods, licking his lip. “My zanpakuto is calling for me.”

“Go ahead.” Satan leans forward.

He hadn’t agreed to watch Ulquiorra during this test of his human-arrancar shifting abilities solely for Ulquiorra’s safety, but out of curiosity. Even in the devildom, hollows are rare. And even rarer, arrancars almost never form naturally.

Ulquiorra pulls his sword from its sheath. He places it over his lap, studying the spotless blade before closing his eyes, and for a moment he smells petrichor.

Those who know despair, once knew hope. Those who know loss, once knew love.

The demons are acting strange again.

They’re always strange, but for the past few days they've been looking at him from across the room with hushed whispers and talking to him far too animatedly.

What are they up to now?

He’s tired just thinking about it as he removes his jacket and scarf and settles into the recliner.

Mammon looked excited, humming to himself and leading Ulquiorra down the streets and looking back to make sure Ulquiorra was still following. He had asked Ulquiorra to accompany him for ‘something important’ that he really needed to see.

Mammon took him to the cinema, bringing him to an empty theater with soft reclining loveseats.

The demon offers him some popcorn as the screen flickers to life, beginning an action-mystery movie that Ulquiorra watches despite his wariness. They munch on popcorn and candies that Mammon brought.

Ulquiorra glances at Mammon once in a while, to find that Mammon was already looking at him and the demon snaps his attention away. It’s hard to see the demon’s expression in the dark of the theater. For a moment he wishes he were in his arrancar form again, just so he could see in the dark.

They’re very close. Mammon’s warmth reaches him from where the demon sits on the other side of the loveseat. The small bag of popcorn sits between them, but Mammon’s leg stretches out beside his own.

At some point during the movie, when there’s gunfire and a car chase, Ulquiorra’s hand brushes Mammon’s when he reaches for popcorn, and Mammon lets out a squawk before tearing his hand away.

What is he up to?

Ulquiorra can hardly fathom it.

When the popcorn runs out near the end of the movie, Mammon sets the bag aside, settling further into the space between them.

His hand rests on the seat, tapping nervously.

Ulquiorra can’t help that his attention is hardly on the movie anymore. The suspense is over and the mystery is rather obvious. The two leading characters have fallen in love and traipse the perils together.

And Mammon’s little finger brushes his.

It’s a tickling sensation at first, but Ulquiorra doesn’t pull away.

He tries to focus on the movie, but Mammon yawns loudly, shifting around. Ulquiorra is about to voice his annoyance, when Mammon wraps his arm around Ulquiorra’s shoulders.

Ah. So this is why Mammon was so nervous.

His hand is hesitant, shaking a little.

Ulquiorra remains still.

The movie continues, with the predicted plot twist and the antagonist falling from a cliff.

At last, the two leads’s faces grow close.

Mammon’s hand has found his hair, now longer than he’d kept it as a hollow, touching his shoulders. The fingers untangle it gently, stirring a pleasant pull against his scalp.

The lovers kiss, and the screen fades.

Low candlelight rises, but the overhead lights remain off. Mammon’s hand stills.

Ulquiorra raises his head, now able to see Mammon’s face in the warm light.

He was going to ask why Mammon brought him here. He was going to ask why Mammon chose this movie. He was going to ask why there’s no one else in the theater. He was going to ask why Mammon’s face is suddenly so close to his. Why he can feel Mammon’s warm breath on his own lips.

He was going to ask….

Mammon’s lips taste like buttered popcorn and soda. The sugar and salt cling to his lips when Mammon pulls away. His lips were soft, but the kiss disappeared far too fast. Ulquiorra stares at Mammon, those blue eyes flecked with gold half-lidded before Mammon turns his head. His face is warmer, and his tan skin is flushed.

“I was gonna ask first, sorry.”

Ulquiorra is no slave to his desires, but he is no longer in denial that they exist.

He grabs Mammon’s jacket collar. “If I were opposed to it, you would know.”

Their lips meet again, and Mammon’s tongue is warm against his, his hand warm where it twines in Ulquiorra’s hair, as if unwilling to let Ulquiorra pull away. As if he can think of nothing but more.

And Ulquiorra doesn’t disagree.

Mammon’s other hand rests on the small of his back, and the greedy demon pulls away, licking his lip as if to chase the taste of Ulquiorra.

He almost wants to pull him back in.

But Mammon clears his throat, and removes the hand from Ulquiorra’s hair to fix his own. “Well, uh, what did you think of the movie?”

Ulquiorra suppresses a tut. “It was pleasant enough. I don’t understand why you brought me all this way. We could have watched a movie in your room.”

Mammon jolts, sitting up and removing his other hand from Ulquiorra to make an outward hand gesture. “Aye, it’s a special occasion! Somethin’ like this only comes once in a lifetime, you know?”

And now it’s Ulquiorra’s turn to sit up. “A special occasion?”

Mammon scoffs in a friendly tone. “Levi said you didn’t realize, but I should’a believed him. Our one hundred days was a couple days ago, you know. One hundred days since we met and made a pact. You really should remember these things, I’m your first man so mine is the most important. To think we spent our hundredth day watching some silly show Levi likes.” Mammon shakes his head.

One hundred days, huh?

Or, a hundred and a couple. But still.

“I didn’t get you anything.” Ulquiorra tilts his head. “Perhaps we could–”

“Nah nah, don’t get like that. Just be happy I had the time to spend with ya. I’m a busy demon, you know.”

For someone who gambles so often, Mammon should be better at bluffing.

“Then let’s spend more time together before I leave. If you’re not too busy, of course.”

Mammon smiles before he checks his DDD and stands up, and he offers his hand to Ulquiorra, hauling him to his feet. “You better make good on that promise.”

They head home, Mammon’s hand in his, the demon pulling him along.

They look in the windows of stores, and Mammon points out things that his brothers have been wanting. “Yule is coming soon, you know. You won’t be here for it, but it’s the best holiday! Presents from everyone, and everything is all lit up and the decorations–”

At least he’s endearing when he’s excitable like this.

“Actually, you and other exchange students leave right before the holiday. Maybe we can do something to celebrate with everyone,” Mammon chatters, before checking his DDD again. “You’re looking a bit cold, let’s go back to the House!”

He’s suddenly up to something again.

Ulquiorra allows himself to be dragged back home, pulling his scarf closer. It really is colder.

The trip is short, but Mammon’s excited glances back seem to draw it out. They climb up the steps and Mammon basically pulls him inside, slamming the door and yelling, “We’re home!” loud enough to wake the dead.

“You’re so annoying,” Belphegor grumbles, yawning from a chair near one of the large stone gargoyle-dragons. Another reason there’s so many chairs in the House: Belphegor collapses into them regularly when his sloth becomes too much. “They’re here,” he yells, standing up. Then he grumbles again, “If you didn’t hear Mammon’s loud-as-fuck mouth.”

“Oi!” Mammon puts his hands on his hips, letting go of Ulquiorra’s hand.

“Ulqui, you’re home!” Asmo nearly sings his glee when he rounds the corner from the dining room. “Come on, I have something for you.”

“No ya don’t, I’m escorting Ulq today!”

“Hello, Ulquiorra,” Satan follows behind Asmo, smiling at him as Mammon and Asmo argue and Belphegor eggs them on.

“Ahem,” Lucifer’s voice interrupts. He scowls at his brothers, but it falls when his eyes reach Ulquiorra. “It’s time we show Ulquiorra to the dining room. I believe you will all agree.”

The dining room?

Satan grins at him now, his smile teasing. “Mammon’s little date made it easy to stall you.”

“Date–!”

Lucifer is smiling too, that smug smirk turned warm as he guides Ulquiorra through to the dining room, ignoring Mammon. The doors open, and the table and walls are decorated with black and green. “I learned from your file that your birthday is today.”

Bat-shaped lanterns glow, hanging from the ceiling with twinkling strings of lights. The main lights are off, casting a warmth from the candles. A large cake sits in the middle of the table, with his name on it in icing.

The swell of the brothers singing crashes over him.

There’s cheering and arms around him. Praises. Smiles.

Satan comes into focus. “Are you alright?" He’s smiling.

“You all did this for me?” Ulquiorra looks again at the decorations and the cake and the presents stacked on the table. It’s a lot like Mammon’s birthday. He really is one of them.

“Of course,” Asmo lands a kiss on his cheek. “Happy Birthday, Ulquiorra.”

He nods. “Thank you.” He glances between them. What is he supposed to do?

Mammon is too excited, and grabs him, pulling him over to the pile of presents. “C’mon, start openin’! They’re calling your name. Don’t be afraid to be a bit greedy, ya know–”

“Mammon,” Satan rolls his eyes, but picks up a present, wrapped neatly in a familiar wrath-green.

Ulquiorra takes the present Mammon holds out to him with shaky hands. He’s pulling off the shoddily-wrapped paper when Levi shrieks, “Beel– the cake!”

There is nothing... in you... and... in me.

Levi’s head hits the table with a bonk. “I hate thiiiiiis,” he whines.

Ulquiorra sighs, using his chopsticks to grab another bite of fried shadow bat. “What have you been doing all semester?”

Levi raises his head, lip trembling. “It’s not fair! No one understands how hard it is for me.” He sniffles.

Setting down the chopsticks, Ulquiorra shakes his head. “It was the same thing before midterms. Don’t you take classes?” He pulls one of his books closer. They’re in his room, sitting at the large table, with their materials strewn across the surface.

Belphegor snores in Ulquiorra’s bed, wrapped in his sheets, waiting for Ulquiorra to finish so they can go shopping with Beel. Exams start tomorrow, and Ulquiorra can almost feel the stress of the others in the house.

“I do online classes. It’s the only mercy I get, thinking of being there with all those normies…. Ugh!”

Ulquiorra purses his lips. “Perhaps we can take a break–” Levi’s head raises excitedly. “--After the unit you’re in now.” He deflates, but nods, grabbing a piece of candy from the snack board beside them.

When Leviathan begged him to help the demon study, he’d bribed Ulquiorra with the promise of another bento. It turned more into a shared snackplate, but Ulquiorra won't argue.

They start again, Levi reviewing the history of post-demon-king Devildom and Ulquiorra working on his paper about his time in the Devildom.

Leviathan begrudgingly answers the next few questions, mumbling to himself. One of his hands grips his pencil, a pink one with Ruri’chan’s face on it, and the other taps along the table.

It distracts Ulquiorra, and when he flits his eyes to Levi’s fingers, he recognizes the furrows on the table. That first night when Ulquiorra came to the Devildom, Leviathan’s claws had made those very scratches in the wood.

A lot has changed since then.

Leviathan’s orange eyes glare at his papers, almost hidden by his purple bangs. His lower lip is pinched between his sharp teeth.

He glances up, and his pale cheeks gain color. “S-stop staring?! Is there something on my face?” He raises his hand to rub his mouth.

Ulquiorra shakes his head, returning to his paper.

He grabs the article that Satan gave him about the lighthouse.

Ulquiorra isn’t one for metaphor.

Perhaps at times, sure. When he doesn’t know how to explain these feelings. These emotions.

But this feeling that the brothers have given him.

This moon in the darkness. The looming light that guided him to his own heart in the midst of the worst time of his life. The poetry is not lost on him.

Really, perhaps they’re more like stars. Numerous and bright, but not overwhelming. Glittering the night sky of his life where once there was nothingness.

A while longer passes in the scribbled silence.

They don’t get more than an hour or two more before Beel arrives, happily eating their now-cold scraps, and Levi pouts as he leaves, but thanks Ulquiorra for the afternoon studying.

A shame. The peace was nice.

The twins wait for him to dress in something warmer, Belphegor insisting on picking the softest, warmest coat and scarf for him.

Beel leads them out, down the sidewalks and streets and to the winter market.

The air even looks cold. Ulquiorra moves his fingers, trying to keep them warm in the gloves. The Devildom usually gets cold during winter, but today is a special one in the Devildom, as a treat for the end of the exchange program: it’s snowing.

Beel glances back, and Ulquiorra sees that Belphegor has fallen behind already. They stop, waiting for him to catch up. “He gets more tired when it’s cold like this,” Beel smiles. “Of course, it’s the same when it’s too hot.”

“Do you not get tired of waiting for him?”

Beel grins wider. “I’m just glad he’s home,” he directs that chest-squeezing grin at Ulquiorra. “I have you to thank for that.”

Ulquiorra shakes his head. “I didn’t do much.”

“Hm.” A large hand rests on his shoulder, then pulls him into Beel’s chest, both of Beel’s arms wrapping around him, crushing him into a hug. “You’ve done everything that matters.” Beel pulls away, smiling at Ulquiorra with emotion in his eyes.

Belphegor groans loudly, ruffling his hair as he draws close. “Looks cozy,” he yawns, rubbing his eyes with a pout. Beel just smiles at him, and they start walking again.

A white flake lands in Belphegor’s hair when Ulquiorra looks at him. Ulquiorra pulls the scarf tighter, his breath visible in the air.

The end of the program is in a couple days, and the twins asked Ulquiorra to join them in shopping for the exchange students. After exams, everyone will get together for a “goodbye exchange program and winter holiday” party, since Mammon suggested it to the student council. And then he leaves.

At times, it seems like he took the cobblestones from the street and swallowed them, weighing his stomach down when he remembers.

“He’s a bizarre human. I haven’t the faintest idea what to get him,” Belphegor sighs as Ulquiorra returns to the conversation.

Solomon’s birthday passed last week during exams, and his party was pushed back and became a farewell to the exchange event.

Ulquiorra recalls the talisman that Solomon got him for his birthday. He should get something of equal value, with the allowance that Lucifer gave to him.

Beel nods, and then stiffens as he raises his nose to the air. “There’s chocolate!” He rushes towards the other side of the market.

They follow after him, but Belphegor’s feet drag and he groans. “We’ll catch up to him,” he sighs, steering towards a bench. Ulquiorra glances at Beel’s shock of orange hair disappearing into the crowds, and sits next to the tired demon.

Belphegor groans. “It’s too cold.” He breathes on his hands to warm them up. “When we finish shopping, the three of us should curl up some hot tea.”

“I have some I need to use before I leave,” Ulquiorra recalls the box that Barbatos gifted him for his birthday. Although he has luggage to move his things and the promise of help if he needs it, he’d prefer to consolidate as much as he can. Between his clothes, products, and trinkets others have given him, his suitcases are already heavy.

“It’s certainly been an exciting year,” Belphegor says, though his eyes are still surveying the crowds.

“Indeed.” Ulquiorra muses on how much of a nuisance Belphegor was in the beginning, and he can tell that the thought is mutual when Belphegor glances over with a smirk.

“I must say, even I have grown used to your presence in the House of Lamentation. It’ll be strange with you gone.”

Ulquiorra hums, letting Belphegor continue.

“My brothers like you a lot, so I’m sure they feel the same. And I feel like I didn’t get much time with you, with the whole imprisonment thing. In fact, there has been talk of kidnapping you so that you’ll stay permanently. I don’t think it’ll work, though.”

He shakes his head at his pactmates’ antics. “It would be wise for me to learn to be human, and then decide when I wish to return.”

Belphegor nods, standing and scanning the demons walking along the road, atop the cobblestone and beneath the glowing, colorful lights that line the streets. Other demons bustle about, some bundled up against the cold and others seemingly impervious. Snow falls gently, a flake catching on Belphegor’s lashes.

Violet eyes find his.

“I hope you do.”

“Ulquiorra! Belphie! Look at all this chocolate!” Beel yells before Ulquiorra can answer.

One chapter left! I've been going through the "It's ending, I'm sad" part of writing, but I have a lot of inspiration and insight to my writing process now. Feel free to make art or spinoffs if you love this story and want to.

It's been a year since he's held him in his arms. Since he kissed him. Touched him. Beheld him in any way besides via DDD messages.

And there's humans everywhere. It's not a particularly big house, but there's too many humans. He smiles at them when they approach, but they don't stay long.

Really, there's maybe twenty humans at the party, and many of them have a strong spiritual presence. It's still too many.

Ichigo had introduced himself when Satan arrived, and awkwardly pointed him to the refreshments table to wait for Ulquiorra.

Usually Satan has a firm hold on his wrath. But for Ulquiorra to make him wait has it bubbling. It's irrational, but it warms his stomach.

If anything, Ulquiorra should have been the one at the door.

Then Satan would have been able to hold him for a moment, just the two of them.

He sighs, trying to let the wrath seep out of him. It won't do him any favors.

Instead, he acknowledges that Ulquiorra chose him. Out of all of his brothers to invite to a Halloween party in the human realm, only he had been invited.

That does make him feel better.

And then he hears familiar footsteps.

His breath comes up short.

What a darling vampire he makes.

His hair has been trimmed a bit, closer to how it was when they met. His skin is still remarkably pale, and he seems a bit thin, but not unhealthy. He's dressed in a vintage-looking suit with a cravat and a dark purple cape with a tall collar.

His eyes are still that breathtaking green.

Ulquiorra walks faster when he spots Satan, something like a smile attempting to take his lips.

He has little fangs. They protrude from his black lip and cause a lisp when he speaks. A bit ironic, considering how much Ulquiorra enjoys being bitten.

“Satan. You made it.”

And it really is enchanting, the way those green eyes alight when they talk to him.

“Of course. You invited me.” Satan offers his hand, and Ulquiorra raises an eyebrow but complies, giving him his hand. Satan raises it to his lips, eyes never leaving Ulquiorra's, and kisses the soft skin. “I would be a fool to reject the invitation.”

A giggle makes him remember they aren't alone, and he lets Ulquiorra's hand down, though he's pleased to note the pink flush of Ulquiorra's face.

Satan takes a sip of cider, glancing over to Ulquiorra's companion. She's pretty. Her face is pretty. She's dressed as some sort of orange blob. She must have helped Ulquiorra get ready. He can't help but wish it had been him.

“You must be Orihime,” Satan places his hand on his chest and nods his head. “It's a pleasure to meet you, I've heard about you.”

“Nice to meet you, too! All good things, I hope.”

Satan scoffs playfully. “From Ulquiorra?”

Orihime nearly snorts in a laugh, and he hears Ulquiorra sigh. “I suppose I should have said “all neutral things” then.”

Satan nods, grinning as Ulquiorra glares at the room.

Orihime sees someone and wanders off, reminding them that there'll be activities like pumpkin decorating later in the evening, and Satan finally has Ulquiorra's attention.

“I'm glad you invited me.” They lean against the wall, sipping on their cider.

“I wasn't sure you would come. I'm sure it caused you trouble.”

“The trouble was worth seeing you. Besides, Diavolo agreed when I said I could gauge the success of your life as a human in a more personal manner.”

Ulquiorra gives one of his little “hmph”s of acknowledgement, swishing the liquid in his cup. His eyes flit from the cider to Satan and the people around them.

“Maybe while I'm here I'll be able to see your apartment.”

“I've sent pictures.”

“It's different in person,” Satan smirks, leaning his shoulder against Ulquiorra's. “I want to see what you've collected since you got here, what you keep in your cabinets to eat, what books you have… how soft your bed is.”

“Seems like something that Belphegor would ask,” Ulquiorra's eyes close as he takes a drink, then pauses, glancing at Satan. “Though if you wish to become acquainted with it that much, then I shall show you. I assume you've been approved to stay overnight?”

Satan nods. “As long as it takes to see that you're healthy and adapting well here.” It's a bit of a lie; technically he's supposed to be back after the party, but he doubts Diavolo would be so strict.

“Though perhaps….” Ah, that's Ulquiorra's ‘I'm about to make a joke that sounds like a threat’ voice. “You were not so interested in the costume theme.” Those green eyes dissect Satan's casual outfit, topped with a devil horn headband.

“It was either this or a cat headband, and it was a difficult decision.” Though he bought both.

Ulquiorra clicks his tongue. Cute, he's embarrassed. He really did dress up far more than Satan.

Satan snakes an arm around Ulquiorra's shoulders. “How about I make it up to you?”

Satan sees that eyebrow raise again.

“Ichigo is that brat you get annoyed with, right? How should we punish him?”

Ulquiorra scoffs. “Actually, the real problem is--”

A crash cuts him off, and they glance over at a blue-haired man holding Ichigo by the collar.

“That one. Grimmjow.”

“An arrancar? If he is, he's in a gegai.”

Ulquiorra nods, crossing his arms. He's leaned closer into Satan's side.

“What shall I do to him, master?” Satan revels in the bewildered glare that warms him.

Ulquiorra points at him as if threatening him. “Don't say that again.”

“Yes, sir.”

The glare continues, but Ulquiorra turns his attention to Grimmjow. Away from Satan.

“He's mostly just a nuisance. He comes to my apartment and lounges about like it's his, and eats all my food. It doesn't even sate the beast.”

“And what retribution would you like?”

Ulquiorra tilts his head back, face close to Satan's. He could lean in and kiss him now.

“Stay with me. Let him know that there's no room for him.”

It's then that it sinks into Satan.

That loneliness in Ulquiorra's eyes.

After living with him and his brothers, it must be isolating to live alone in a city of humans who will never know him. Even those who know what Ulquiorra is wouldn't possibly understand him.

Even those who have come to care for him, can they fully accept him as a monster?

That Grimmjow isn't the problem.

Satan smiles, but it's soft.

“Of course. I'll stay with you as long as you wish.”

Ulquiorra huffs a sigh. “I doubt that.”

Satan kisses his temple.

“I promise.”

Masterlist

I polled and decided to go ahead and post a Halloween Special instead of the next chapter today! Chapter 19 will be posted on the 15th of November. I also have some more Halloween ideas, but they'll have to wait until next year!

In Mammon’s arms is Ulquiorra’s bloodied, mangled body.

He can only watch his lifeless body coat the floor with blood. It reaches the stairs and the door and his feet.

He meets green eyes. His own eyes staring back at him.

And then nothing.

He’s sweating, but his body is wracked with shivers. He tries to open his eyes, but all he sees is dim lighting. There’s a shushing, and the hand smoothing his hair down feels like it’s electrifying his every nerve.

“You’re alright,” a familiar voice chisels his eardrums, and he feels a groan escape his chest. “You had a magic burst, is all.”

It’s Satan, he notes dully. Hands smooth over his hair and shoulder. His head is on the demon’s lap. How did he get here? He remembers being at RAD and a demon approaching him, and then the floor shaking.

When he can finally see, the world is still wobbling. He feels like he’s been dissected, or trampled upon. His uniform jacket is gone, leaving him in his teal undershirt. Sticky bandages itch his skin, one on his arm and one on his knuckles. Cold lights come into view. Is this the RAD infirmary? Satan is looking at him intently. The memory of the fight comes back to him.

“You should sit up slowly if that’s what you wish.”

The demon helps him up, and he drinks the water offered to him.

“A magic burst?” He asks finally.

“You invoked our pacts when the demon attacked you. Barbatos explained that your magic reacts when ours encroach on your own soul.”

“What happened to the demon?”

Satan’s smile turns sharp. “He’ll be dealt with appropriately. To mess with someone who has pacts with several Avatars of Sin… it’s not taken lightly. He’ll be handed over to the dungeons soon.”

“Then the others are still handing him over?” Ulquiorra takes another sip of water. He has no pity for the trash’s torment at the hand of his overzealous pactmates. He distinctly remembers the crack of bone he heard when he slammed the demon's head against the wall using its own momentum. It's almost a shame his magic interfered.

Satan nods. “Although torture is more mine or perhaps Lucifer’s domain, I decided my time was better spent with you.” Satan's fingers trace the edge of the bandage on his arm, where the demon grabbed him. The only trophies from his fight are shallow bruises and the results of him striking the demon with his knuckles.

Ulquiorra remembers their night in the dunes as he notices the gentle way Satan looks at him. Touches him. The sand. The sound of the waves rolling. The feel of Satan’s hands on him. It’s not something he allows to reign his mind very often, but it rekindles with the tender touch Satan runs through his hair.

“You gave everyone quite a fright. I imagine that the others will be asking questions soon.”

Ulquiorra nods, regretting it when his head pangs. “I should have told them sooner.” He meant to tell them right after they returned from the beach. It’s already the day of Lord Diavolo’s birthday celebration.

“It’s been a busy week. And I’m sure it can’t be easy to find the words.”

Ulquiorra falls silent, staring at the glass in his hand.

“You’re still shaking.” Satan shifts until he can wrap an arm around Ulquiorra’s shoulders, pulling him close. “Just relax for now. We can worry about everything else later.”

He wants to agree, but something won’t let him relax into Satan’s warmth. The silence that falls is stifled. His head pangs every so often, like someone is jamming an ice pick into his frontal lobe.

Footsteps echo in the hall before the door opens. Satan tenses, but doesn’t pull away, as Diavolo enters, Barbatos behind him. The hand on his shoulder squeezes, as if to remind him that Satan is still with him.

It's something Ulquiorra has had to grow accustomed to, Satan’s casual touch, even in the presence of others. Ulquiorra is not one to blush or shy away, but it's certainly odd to lean into affection when he's being watched. Mammon’s face when he catches the sight is nearly amusing, and Satan is rather blatant about his taunting.

“Hello, Ulquiorra. I see you are faring better than you were.” Diavolo’s voice still holds its easygoing resonance, but the usual warmth is replaced by cool formality. “I am here on behalf of the Student Council to extend our apology. It seems that there is still overt hostility among demons towards humans.” He closes his eyes and tilts his head in a partial bow. “It is a failing on our part that you were not better protected.”

Ulquiorra acknowledges the apology, still unwilling to nod his head. “I heard that the one responsible is being dealt with.”

“Indeed.” Gold eyes flash, an amused smile on the prince’s lips when he raises his head. “Your pactmates are quite protective of you, as I’m sure you can understand. We are on our way to collect the demon in question, though we wished to stop by and bid you a comfortable recovery.”

Barbatos steps forward. He tilts his head to Satan, locking eyes with Ulquiorra. Those viridian eyes cause shivers down Ulquiorra's spine when he remembers the night he went back in time. The night Barbatos sent him to his death. They hold a question now. Satan knows. Ulquiorra nods.

“Ulquiorra, the seal on your soul interacts with your pacts when you call upon the brothers’ magic with such urgency. As it is, the seal acts as a dam for the magic you possess. It is my own magic that keeps the seal in place, and thus my responsibility when it fails. I intend to establish a new seal that will prevent these magic outbursts.”

Does that mean he would not feel his spirit energy, even briefly?

“You wish to seal my spi– my magic more permanently?”

“We can discuss the options further if you would like.”

Diavolo cuts in. “Please, join us at the castle this afternoon for tea before the festivities. It would be our pleasure to host you.” Barbatos agrees with a polite smile.

And so when the rest of the classes end, he finds himself sitting in the palace garden, lit by the light of lanterns and the cold afternoon moon. Diavolo sits across from him, and Barbatos pours him a cup of tea.

It’s orange and smells floral.

He reaches for one of the little cakes that decorate the table, and the smell makes his mouth water.

Diavolo smiles, far warmer now, and sips his tea.

“Now then, Ulquiorra. Instead of sealing your magic completely, we would like to propose something. You have been living as a human while you’re here, but you lack the true human experience, which is why we wished to allow you to remain human after you leave here. However, I have reconsidered the need for you to seal away your power completely. If the seal were to falter when you were in the human realm, it would attract soul reapers and other creatures to you, and you would be defenseless."

Diavolo leans forward on his elbows. “Instead, I would like to reconfigure your human body to allow your magic to ebb and flow naturally, like a human’s. It could still attract other beings, but you would be able to take the form of a soul and defend yourself as an arrancar to regain your former powers, or remain in your human form if you learn to use your spiritual magic as a human sorcerer.”

That. Sounds like.

“Essentially, you would be like a soul reaper in a gegai, but with a human body that’s easier to control. And you could live a normal human life, without worrying about how to defend yourself.”

“Yes, you will be similar to the substitute soul reaper Kurosaki Ichigo.” Barbatos nods thoughtfully.

Right. Like Ichigo.

Ulquiorra purses his lips, then falls into thought.

There’s not much of a question, whether he’d rather have his magic sealed or not. His head still hurts.

But something tugs at him.

“I’d like to take you up on your previous offer.” He makes eye contact with Barbatos, replaying a conversation they’d had during the retreat at the castle. “Allow me to speak to the woman, and then I will give you my decision.”

Diavolo inclines his head to Barbatos. “We can arrange that.” The butler bows, excusing himself.

“You’ve changed considerably since you’ve arrived, so we will need some time to prepare. We will brief her only on what she needs to know.” He finishes his tea. “We have much to prepare for the evening’s festivities, but we will allow your condition. I’m sure you’re in need of closure.” Lord Diavolo stands. “The others should arrive soon. Please, stay and enjoy the refreshments in the meantime.”

And so Ulquiorra finishes most of the little cakes, and cedes the rest to Beelzebub when the brothers arrive.

Asmodeus tugs at him, trying to lead him away to get ready for the evening. “C’mon Ulqui, I need to fix you up so I can work on my perfect look for the evening. I even have a new eyeliner that I–”.

They’re all here.

Ulquiorra takes a breath, ignoring the churning of all the treats he ate. He pulls his arm away from the overeager demon. “First, there is something I’ve been meaning to tell all of you.” His voice draws their attention, above the rustle of the garden.

His hands twitch, and he puts them in his pockets out of habit. “I avoided this before in order to remain safe when I arrived, but it’s time that I told all of you the truth.” Satan nods at him. Right. He’s not alone in this.

“When I was brought here, the impression that I’m human was something that I did not dispute, but it is not the truth. While I am currently in the body of a human, I am originally an Arrancar.”

“Arrancar?” Beel tilts his head.

“A soul that hasn’t moved on, became a hollow and then evolved into something closer to a soul reaper,” Belphegor yawns.

“Huh.” Asmo crosses his arms. “A hollow. Well, I knew that you weren’t really human.” A few of the brothers agree.

“Yeah, definitely not human.” Levi mumbles.

Ulquiorra stares at the brothers.

“You… knew?”

“Yes, Lord Diavolo informed me during your stay at Purgatory Hall.” Lucifer responds. “After that magic burst, I had questions.”

“Wait, you knew, too?” Asmo asks incredulously, looking around at the others. “All of us knew Ulquiorra wasn’t a normal human and no one said anything? For how long? I only found out when Solomon said something was strange with his magic, and that was after the retreat.”

Belphegor shrugs. “He told me in a dream around that time.”

Beel bites his lip, his eyebrows pinched as he nods. “I figured it out within a week. He didn’t know human technology when he arrived.”

“ A week?! I only knew a month in.” Levi shuffles his feet, a blush on his face. “He didn’t know any human world media, not even One Piece or Bl–”

“What about you, Mammon?”

Mammon raises a hand to his face to cover his grinning lips. “I figured it out the first night.”

“The first night–?!”

Satan leans forward, interrupting Levi. “How did you figure it out that soon?” His brows furrow.

“Well,” Mammon stammers under the attention of Ulquiorra and all of his brothers. “Barbatos approached me pretty quick about some extra dough if I took real good care of Ulquiorra, you know? It was odd, but hey, extra grimm. But then he looked at me like there was some sorta secret he was letting me in on. And then the magic felt different when we made the pact. I think I’ve made the most pacts out of all of us, so I know how they feel… And it clicked. I knew Ulq was a weird sort of human, like Solomon.”

Asmo huffs. “So you didn’t know Ulquiorra wasn’t human!”

“Well, he's kind of human.”

Levi’s arms are crossed. “And you, Satan?”

Asmo laughs, shaking his head. “Those two are too close, Satan definitely knew.”

“I’ve known for some time,” Satan nods.

Asmo’s voice turns teasing. “Of course you did. If your tongue is in his mouth that much, you’ve got to–”

“Asmodeus!”

“Oi!” Mammon’s face is redder than Satan’s.

This wasn’t exactly what Ulquiorra expected when he told them the truth. He expected anger. Betrayal. Perhaps he should have expected his pactmates to be both brilliant and dense at the same time. They knew he wasn’t human, but argue that the others knew about it all along. How ridiculous.

“Smile alert! Ultra Rare Plus Event!” Leviathan exclaims and points at him.

Ulquiorra glares at him, returning his face to neutral. “So you all knew. Why didn’t you say anything?”

There’s a variation of shrugs.

“Didn’t really matter,” Beel mumbles. “You’re still you.”

Asmo nods. “We’re demons. It doesn’t matter what you are.”

“I figured you’d be upset that I lied to you.”

Lucifer shakes his head. “Demons are known to lie. So are humans. You were put in a position that made it dangerous to tell the truth. Even if we were upset when we found out, it doesn’t change anything about you.”

“We’d prefer you told us sooner,” Asmo admits, “but none of us blame you for taking your time to open up.”

Ulquiorra stares at the group. What he is changes nothing to them with any consequence. He’s still their pactmate, a housemate, a friend.

Beel smiles at him. “Even if you told us you were a banshee, I’d still want you with us. You're family now.”

And it struck him. He was worried that they would no longer regard him as worthy of their care. He can breathe more easily.

“Ulquiorra, you’re stuck with us.” Satan smiles. “We won’t let you be alone.”

“Now come on!” Asmo starts pulling on his arm again. “We NEED to start now.”

Ulquiorra glances back at the others, and Mammon smiles at him. Levi is chatting with Satan, Belphegor is leaning against Beel, who’s looking for more snacks. Lucifer sighs, trying to get the others to cooperate and get ready for the celebration.

Nothing changed.

“In here, darling.”

Asmo drags him into a bathroom, a large one with a bathtub basin and a vanity. “Barbatos keeps this bathroom ready for events when I need to look extra stunning. It’s not exactly like mine, but it works in a pinch.” He lets go of Ulquiorra, nearing the vanity, and sets out two hanger bags on the rack. “I had an outfit prepared specially for this occasion. I think you’ll love it.”

“And the one I’ll be wearing?” Knowing Asmodeus, he’s talking about his own appeal.

Asmodeus grins, clearly pleased at the banter. “You’re so cute. You’ll love that one too, I’m sure.”

And then Ulquiorra undresses at Asmodeus’s request, leaving his uniform pooled on the floor to retrieve later. Asmodeus watches rather blatantly, but makes no comment before he approaches with a small bag. “Nails and makeup first!”

The demon is excited, and chats animatedly about the party. Apparently, Diavolo’s birthday is a rather extravagant event, and brings in all manner of demons and creatures from all corners of the Devildom.

He paints Ulquiorra’s nails first, some in an ombre from black to dark green and others from dark green to a lime color. Then he begins the makeup. It’s not as involved as Asmodeus’s tends to be, but more than Barbatos did for him at the retreat. There’s a pale goo all over his face and neck, and then Asmodeus lines his eyes in black with some green powder on the lids. He applies something almost purple to Ulquiorra’s lips.

When he finally sees the mirror, his face has changed. His eyelids are more defined with his low brow ridge, the green making his eyes seem brighter. Asmodeus brushes his hair while he takes in the gray-purple lipstick that is only shades from his natural color but reminds him of his estigma as an arrancar. He realizes he has missed the dark color on his upper lip. And the green tears. He’ll be able to see them again, if he accepts Lord Diavolo’s plan.

He’ll be able to see himself again. It’s something he didn’t realize hurt his chest. This human body still doesn’t feel like his own.

Asmo kisses the top of his head, pulling him out of his rumination. “You’re cute when you’re lost in thought. Do you like the makeup? I can make adjustments.”

Ulquiorra meets his eyes in the mirror. “I do not dislike it.” But Asmodeus knows what he really is, and so he mentions the estigma he had as a hollow.

“Really, so arrancar have beauty spots? That’s so chic! Though it does remind me of the marks some demons have in our natural forms.” Asmodeus finishes Ulquiorra’s hair. “Do you want me to draw them on? I have green eyeliner, and I can redo your lipstick.”

Ulquiorra thinks on it as Asmo adjusts the green-glass hairpin. It’s fancier than the ones Mammon gave him, but seems far more breakable.

“Perhaps another time.”

Asmo nods, and sets the makeup with some sort of spray that stings Ulquiorra’s face. Asmo takes his time dressing Ulquiorra, his soft hands even pulling up the black socks. He adjusts the black suit and tie, and makes sure Ulquiorra’s shoes shine in the lights.

The sleeves of the shirt cover the bandage on his arm, and Asmodeus removes the bandage on his knuckles. His face twists before he places a delicate kiss on the scrapes and replaces it with a black bandage strip.

The whole outfit is a dark black, but catches the light and sparkles like stars. Even Ulquiorra can appreciate its beauty. It looks like the night sky.

“And one more thing.” Asmo pulls something ruffled out of the bag. He attaches the silver clasps after settling it across Ulquiorra’s shoulders, and smooths it out. It's a long cape, black to dark green at the troughs and lime at the edges of each ruffle, matching his nails. It touches near his knee, pulled to one side and attached at his shoulder.

“Leviathan helped me put my vision into this outfit, I’d say he did a lovely job! Who knew he was so good at sewing.” Asmo steps back to take in the whole look. “You’re so gorgeous.”

Ulquiorra glances back at the mirror. Is that the word? He’s certainly a visage, and the outfit suits him. He doesn't know how to reply.

There’s a knock at the door.

“Oh, I need to start on mine now!” Asmodeus starts, jumping over to the vanity. “The others will gather in the drawing room, I’ll join in a bit.”

Ulquiorra nods, but Asmo is already going through his makeup bag. When he opens the door, Lucifer greets him. “Ah, Ulquiorra.” His red eyes flit across Ulquiorra’s face and clothes. “It seems Asmodeus has already finished with you. Good, I came to warn him that he only has two hours left.”

“And it’s not nearly enough! First I have to–” Lucifer shuts the door with a sigh, cutting off Asmo. “Allow me to accompany you to the dining room.” His wings are on full display, impeccably groomed and brilliant as Ulquiorra follows him.

They walk in silence through the halls of the castle, their footsteps echoing off the marble. Lucifer hesitates, glancing at Ulquiorra when they reach the door.

Red eyes rove about his face, then the outfit, taking in the ruffles and tie and eyeliner.

“I hadn’t realized how long your hair has gotten. Perhaps I can schedule an appointment for it to be trimmed. Though change does look good on you.”

Lucifer opens the door before Ulquiorra has a chance to ponder what he means by the last sentence, and ushers Ulquiorra into the drawing room.

“Ulquiorra,” Satan stands up, eyes fixed on the outfit. They take him in, and Ulquiorra can’t help but to admire Satan's demonic form. It’s a common etiquette at such formal events, but Satan has put in extra effort; his horns are shinier, his hair silky. His tail is curled neatly around his leg, reminding Ulquiorra of his own that is far too long to fit comfortably like that.

“Whoaaa!” Levi exclaims, breaking both of them out of their admiration. “You look so pretty!” He claps his hands together.

“Mhm.” Belphegor is lounging on one of the couches, but pokes his head over the side to catch a moment of Ulquiorra’s outfit before settling his head back on Beel’s lap.

Beel agrees, smiling while munching on some cookies.

“Looks like Mammon and Asmo are the only ones we’re waiting on. Let’s begin helping with the preparations, guests should be arriving shortly.” Lucifer clears his throat, leaving no room for argument.

The others file out, and Satan sticks to Ulquiorra’s side. “I rather like the makeup. It really brings out your eyes.”

Ulquiorra raises an eyebrow as they walk behind the others. “What is the purpose of your compliments?”

Satan smirks. “To have you agree to a dance with me.”

“Is that all?” Ulquiorra clicks his tongue. “I had already assumed I’d be obligated to participate.”

“And I’m saying I want you to participate. With me.” Satan’s eyes are warm, and Ulquiorra feels a hand at his back, directly in the center where Satan’s pact mark is. It warms beneath his skin, and he glares at Satan.

“Only if you keep your hands to yourself in the meantime.”

They near the top of the bannister, and he hears a familiar voice complaining about something.

Mammon is at the bottom of the steps, arguing with some Little D demons. His hands are on his hips, his wings flared out. He looks a bit like a ruffled hen.

Lucifer’s voice is dripping with annoyance when they descend the stairs, and Mammon's voice gets louder before he locks eyes with Ulquiorra and a tinkle of coins spill from Mammon’s hands.

Barbatos eventually steps in to vouch that he had given the coins to Mammon in return for keeping quiet about his incentive to watch over Ulquiorra, but Mammon had already stopped defending himself. In fact, it took him several minutes before he tore his eyes from Ulquiorra, finally closing his mouth and agreeing with Barbatos.

Satan snickers, nudging Ulquiorra. “See? Pretty. You make everyone else feel stupid.”

“Perhaps they are,” Ulquiorra rolls his eyes.

“I can agree about Mammon.” Satan tilts his head, and Lucifer calls for them. “Not me, though. I won’t forget that dance.”

Ulquiorra trails behind the group and Lucifer delegates tasks beside Barbatos, feeling the bustle and pull of the demons’ antics. The party is sure to be busy and full of life, and he has an inkling that Satan won’t be the only one he dances with. Mammon is still staring. He can’t say he hates the idea.

Maybe Lucifer is right. Change has really been good for him.

— —

“Um, hello?”

Her voice crackles through the screen.

“Inoue.”

“Ulquiorra-kun?” Her arms come up to clutch together next to her chest. “You’re alive… When the guy approached me and told me you were alive, I didn’t quite believe him. And then he said you wanted to talk to me… I still don’t understand it.”

The screen freezes for a moment, but her voice is still audible.

“I suppose, even if I don’t know why, I’m glad to hear from you. How are you? Going to school? That’s what the man said.”

Ulquiorra nods, trying to find his own voice as she comes into view again. “It’s almost time for exams.” The words sound empty and useless. Why did he say that?

“Oh, I see! You must be very busy, then. Are you eating enough?”

The memory of walking into the dining room this morning to find that Beel had piled Ulquiorra’s plate full since he “may not be entirely human but he needs to eat” surfaces in his mind. It pulls the corner of his mouth before he can stifle it. “My nutrition is well maintained.”

She smiles at him. “Oh, good.” It’s a smile she’s never given him before. “You look… good. Happy, I think. I still don’t understand what happened to you after…” she hesitates. “But, I’m glad.”

He nods. They fall into silence for a moment. “Inoue.”

“You can call me Orihime, you know, Ulquiorra-kun,” she smiles again. Despite her confusion, despite the fear and pain he has caused her, she smiles at him.

“Orihime. Thank you for agreeing to speak with me.”

She tilts her head. “Of course, Ulquiorra-kun. Though I am curious, why me?”

Ulquiorra clicks his tongue. “If you’re alive, then I assume Aizen lost. The Espada must all have perished or disbanded. And it’s not as if any of us have any connection once he’s gone.”

“You could have called Ichigo.”

“I killed Kurosaki, and then he killed me.”

“...Right.” Orihime laughs awkwardly. “I guess I’m the most reasonable choice, then.”

Her long orange hair drapes down from her shoulder. He takes a breath.

“I regret my actions. I regret how I treated you, now that I have a better understanding of what it’s like to be human.”

He continues. “I know these words mean nothing, and that we were only drawn together due to Aizen’s whim. I deserve your ire, and yet you smile at me. You agree to speak to me. You ask about my health. Why?”

Orihime looks at him with those wide eyes.

“I think everyone deserves to be happy, Ulquiorra-kun. Even though it’s true that you’ve done bad things, you deserve to change your mind and become a better person. I think… I think that no one is all good or evil. And if you want to change, if you want to be good–,” her smile is soft, full of emotion, more than he thinks he’s ever expressed, “-- then I’d like to experience who you are as someone who is good.”

He lets the words rove about, sink into him.

He nods. “I will explain what I am able to you when I return.”

“Hm?” Her face blanks. “Return? You’re coming back?”

A figure comes into view behind her. Barbatos. “Hello, Inoue. I believe it’s time for Ulquiorra to retire for the evening. He has exam studies and a term paper to work on, after all.”

“Oh, right.” She turns back to the camera. “Goodbye, Ulquiorra-kun!”

“Goodbye, Orihime."

There's pictures of the options I was contemplating for Ulquiorra to wear linked in my masterlist. I decided on the suit, which was the most popular choice, but included the Spanish-inspired ruffled cape. I'm sorry for being a coward and not putting him in an evening gown. If literally anyone wants a spinoff oneshot with him wearing the evening gown, comment and I might do it.

They saw fish and had a look at the underwater palace. Beel talked about which fish were the tastiest, and Levi was excited for Ulquiorra to see him in his element. Excited enough that, at Ulquiorra’s promise that he wouldn’t be afraid, Leviathan released his demon form to swim better.

He’s tired again by the time they resurface, but Belphegor talks him into helping drag a canoe over to the cove.

“Do you want to come fishing with me? You just put your pole in the water and wait. It’s perfect for me,” Belphegor yawns. “Lucifer already busted me and Satan, after Mammon fell into their trap instead.”

“Why?”

“Hm?” Belphegor tilts his head. “Why should you come with me? Well, Beel is going to be swimming in the cove for a while, and Asmo is making Solomon look for shells there, too. So we won’t be entirely alone. And, I want to talk to you.”

Ulquiorra agrees, curious, and ends up getting in the canoe with Belphegor. The waves are smaller here, and they paddle out into the middle. He still has the mermaid pendant that allows him to breathe underwater, he reminds himself.

Belphegor puts his oar down and grabs his fishing pole. He attaches the lure to the metal bit at the end. “We’re doing catch-and-release. There’s no barbs at the end.” He yawns, helping Ulquiorra with his own.

They toss their lines in, and Ulquiorra focuses on Belphegor. “So, what did you want to talk about?”

Belphegor lays his head back, sighing and getting comfortable. “Mm, yeah.” His eyes flutter closed, then fly open when his pole suddenly dips down. “Oh, I’ve already got something.” He sounds disappointed, but reels in. Ulquiorra's own pulls, and he starts to reel it in, copying Belphegor.

Belphegor pulls his over the side, and the fish wriggles around, flinging water everywhere. Ulquiorra’s is a little smaller, and they release them after detangling them from the hooks.

With their lines back out, Belphegor leans back, looking at him this time. “Anyway, about–” The boat tilts when Ulquiorra’s line grows taut, something yanking hard from the other end. “Oh, you’ve got something.”

This one keeps pulling harder and harder, and Belphegor reels his line in to help. They’ve both sat up, and Ulquiorra focuses on reeling it in a bit at a time.

“I thought this would be relaxing, but we’re actually catching fish,” Belphegor sighs. “Beel must be scaring them from the bottom.”

The demon’s hands hold the pole steady while Ulquiorra reels. The line pulls and yanks, something pulling the canoe closer to the shore, behind Belphegor’s head. He can’t see it under the water. He raises, nearly standing to get better leverage, when the line snaps and he falls forward. The pole splashes into the water.

Belphegor’s eyes are wide.

It’s the first thing he notes when he realizes the demon’s face is inches from his own. He fell on top of Belphegor, the canoe rocking under the movement. He’s pinning him, arms on the sides of the boat.

Belphegor lets out the breath he’s holding. “Make a pact with me,” he blurts out, then bites his lip. “I want to make a pact with you.”

Bewildered, Ulquiorra sits up. The boat threatens to tilt, and he corrects his weight, still almost on top of Belphegor. “What?”

“My brothers… I’ve seen how happy you make them. After everything… I want to trust you. I want to, hm.” He glances away, then back. His voice is quiet, and doesn’t have its usual lilt. He looks ashamed. “I want to know what it’s like to be your pact mate.”

Ulquiorra sits in his seat, careful not to capsize the boat, while he thinks.

What are the benefits? He already has a deal with the demon, but this would solidify that no harm comes to him. There’s not much else to gain from more pacts in his current position.

It’ll hurt. He’ll be lazy for a few days. There’s not many downsides, either.

“What do you want in return?”

Belphegor shakes his head. “Nothing.”

Ulquiorra considers it.

“I want you to stop pretending it didn’t happen. I want you to say that you killed me, instead of being shy about the memory. You killed me. Say it.”

“I… I killed you.” Belphegor’s eyes flit away, then back. “I killed you because I hated humans. I hated you, and I killed you, and at the time I would have liked to kill you again. I killed you with my own hands. And now I regret it, and I want to make things right.”

“With a pact?”

“With making every day better. Dedicating every interaction between us to your safety and comfort. Making the Devildom somewhere humans can be safe. And yes, with a pact, so you never feel endangered by me again.”

“You’d rather give me all the power in this relationship, instead of keeping our deal?”

Belphegor nods, staring into his eyes with his face set. “I want to place my trust in you.”

Trust.

He thinks of the timing. If he is going to make a pact with Belphegor, this would be an ideal time for the pact magic nonsense. In a week, he’ll return to classes and need his wits. He nods.

“I agree.”

A sigh escapes Belphegor, and he deflates, laying back. “Good. I, Belphegor, Avatar of Sloth, offer this pact to Ulquiorra Cifer,” He raises his hand out, claws overtaking teal nails and horns appearing as he mumbles the words, and Ulquiorra braces himself before he takes it. “In the hopes of repairing the past and bettering the future.”

Belphegor’s hurts the least of all the brothers, but still crashes through him before settling on his inner thigh, opposite to Beel’s.

The afternoon passes, and everyone gathers for dinner. His new pact mark courses with magic, and he settles in to sleep, feeling thoroughly exhausted. It doesn’t take long for Belphegor and Beel to move their futons closer, on the opposite side of Mammon’s.

Ulquiorra wakes up with Belphegor’s head resting on his stomach, soft snores escaping the demon, while Mammon complains loudly.

Lucifer advises the room that they’d all be leaving for the museum tour in half an hour, and Ulquiorra tries to push Belphegor off, to no avail. And then Mammon shoves him off, waking him up and starting an argument far too loud for the morning.

Ulquiorra rubs his face, feeling tired and irritable, and rolls up his futon. He leaves the room, dresses for the outing, and sits in the lobby until the rest of the group rolls in.

His mood persists when they arrive at the museum, and Satan and Belphie’s snide glances don’t help.

He lingers behind the group, taking his time to look at the art and artifacts from the past millennium. Before he knows it, they’ve all disappeared. He sighs, enjoying the quiet.

Ulquiorra admires the pieces that he finds interesting, making mental notes about things he could write his report about. He’s reading a plaque for a painting of the lighthouse when he notices the feeling of eyes on him. He looks at the protective glass, seeing the silhouette of a strange demon on the other side of the gallery’s hall.

Then he hears shoes on the marble, and Lucifer’s unmistakable presence settles beside him, feigning interest in the painting.

“I was wondering where you’d gone off to. It seems you prefer admiring the collection at a slower pace. Allow me to accompany you.” His voice leaves no room for argument, but the unknown demon’s shoes scuffle along the floor into the next room.

“I am not weak, I can defend myself. I do not require your assistance.” He moves to look at the next piece, an old oil canister that’s taller than him, made for the lighthouse.

Lucifer sighs. “It is my duty to ensure your safety. If a fight started in the museum, something could break. It would damage Lord Diavolo’s reputation, especially if it involved one of our exchange students. And besides, I don’t think you’re weak at all.”

That gives him pause, and he finally looks at Lucifer.

“It’s true,” Lucifer’s face is set, serious. “You have pacts with all of my brothers. You deal with them every day, and have seen more of us than any human ever has before. It’s admirable. I do not pity you, Ulquiorra. In fact, I’m impressed.”

Ulquiorra stares as he tries to wrap his mind around the thought. Lucifer is impressed with him?

“Oi! Ulq! Get your butt over here, look at this pile of treasure!” Mammon breaks through the moment, and Lucifer smirks as Ulquiorra’s face shifts from off-guard to exasperated.

It takes a while longer to see everything in the museum. He walks with Lucifer, and they make small talk about the exhibits. Lucifer tells him anecdotes when they see something he remembers.

He’s still tired when they get back to the resort, and Belphegor convinces him to take a nap. Mammon made him promise to come out and play something with them after, but he curls up.

It’s a nap he feels in his bones, one that had him feeling refreshed and far less grumpy. Belphegor’s arms and legs are wrapped tight around him, soft snores in his ear. He eases himself away, and Belphegor blinks blearily at him.

“Mm?” He pouts, rubbing his eyes and yawning. He stretches, back arching, and relaxes. Ulquiorra stands, leaving his futon out, as the demon is still laying on both of them. He picks out clean beach shorts and a cover-up. By the time he leaves the restroom, covered in sunscreen, Belphegor is cozy in Ulquiorra’s blankets.

He walks to the beach, feeling the hot sand on his feet.

Mammon spots him, grinning as he waves him over. Behind him, Beel is blowing up a raft the size of the bar hut.

“Hey! It’s our last night, so Beel got out the Noodle Battle Arena.”

Ulquiorra’s face must give away his bewilderment.

“It’s a platform that’s anchored down so it doesn’t float away, and we take pool noodles, and we fight with them until someone loses or gives up.”

Mammon picks up one of the colorful things on the ground. It’s a meter-long rod made from some sort of foam. “This. This is a pool noodle. Er, an ocean noodle? A foam noodle.”

“And you hit each other with it.”

“Yeah. Either someone falls off into the water and loses, or they give up after too many hits.”

“And you’re going to play with us, right Ulquiorra?” Levi is sitting on the edge of the platform.

“Of course he is!” Mammon answers. “Aren’t ya?”

Ulquiorra stares at him. “I have no intention of doing something so childish.”

“It’s like a sword fight, Ulquiorra.” Satan drapes an arm over Ulquiorra’s shoulders, making Mammon’s face look like a fish out of water as he objects.

“It is rather silly. I’ll be sitting out,” Asmo sighs. “I’d love to watch though, especially if Ulquiorra is competing!”

Beel gives him a warm smile, plugging the platform.

“Ulquiorra is doing it?” Solomon walks up behind Asmo. “Careful, those demons are rough.”

He bristles. “I never agreed to this inane competition.”

“Must be scared of losing,” Satan grins beside him, ruffling his hair. He’d forgone the hat this time, since it’s late afternoon. Satan is wearing his dark blue button-up, the buttons undone and his chest exposed.

“I won’t be bullied this time,” he tuts. “You always do this, goading me into doing these things.” He’d rather curl back up for another nap.

“Yeah? Well how about we offer you something this time, then.”

Ulquiorra glares at Satan. “What do you have in mind?”

Satan tilts his head. “A wager. If you win against a demon, any demon, you reserve the right to refuse the next activity that you don’t want to do, with no questions or convincing. I’ll even make you a ticket to turn in.”

“And if I lose?”

“The next two activities we want you to do, you’ll do. You can complain all you’d like, but you won’t argue.”

“Two?” Ulquiorra narrows his eyes. “Two for two. If I win, I get to decline two things.”

“Yeah? You’re on.” Satan looks like the cat who got the cream, rather pleased with himself.

They finish setting up, and Satan and Levi demonstrate the rules and how it works. No face shots. Try not to kill the human. Hands and feet are permissible to use and encouraged, but not wings, horns, or tails. Disagreements are handled by the onlookers.

“Pick an opponent, Ulquiorra.” Satan slides down from the edge.

He eyes the brothers, thinking of strategy. They have more raw strength and speed right now, so he needs an opponent he can manipulate into a corner. “Mammon.”

Beel picks him up and helps him onto the platform, which bows under his weight.

Mammon has a broad, handsome smirk. “Hah? Think I’ll be easy, huh?”

Beel hands him a lime green foam noodle, and he notes the weight and flimsy bow of it as Mammon crawls on, standing opposite.

There are murmurs as they nod to each other, and begin circling. Ulquiorra keeps his sword hand close, aimed downward as he keeps his eyes locked on Mammon’s shoulder.

The demon is spouting something about humans being easy prey.

His lips curl up. He’s not a human.

There’s a loud whap as he brings the toy upward, walloping across Mammon’s stomach. He screeches, jumping away. His face hardens, and he narrows his eyes.

Mammon brings the toy down when he jumps forward, but Ulquiorra parries with his own, leaving him open for Ulquiorra to hit his solar plexus, right at his diaphragm, and the air leaves Mammon in an oomph, making him stumble back. Ulquiorra hooks his leg behind Mammon’s, pushing his shoulders back. Mammon grabs at him, trying to bring him with, but Ulquiorra ducks down, pushing the demon back with his shoulder.

One more step, and the demon yelps as he falls in the water. He comes up, sputtering. His face is angry, but melts with a grin.

“Damn, Ulq, I forgot about that fight you got in when you first arrived. Really kicked my butt, huh?”

“What fight?” Satan makes his way to the edge, and Beel helps Ulquiorra sit on the edge without falling off. Satan smiles, relaxed for someone who just lost a bet.

“His second day in the Devildom, he got in a fight with a couple demons while walking to RAD. I stepped in, but one of ‘em was already bleeding and on the ground. I remembered it, uh, yeah, right after that gut punch.”

“Mammon getting beaten by a human is gonna be a hilarious story on Devilgram, lolol.” Levi wades over to show Ulquiorra a picture of Mammon mid-air, falling off the platform.

“I demand a rematch!” Mammon, after seeing the picture, starts to pout. “Ulquiorra, get back up there.” He crawls back on, and Satan snickers.

“Want to get beaten again that badly? You really are a masochist, huh?”

“What?! Shut up, Satan! How ‘bout you come up here, then?”

Satan’s grin grows smug. “Yeah? Ulquiorra, fight me next.”

“I only agreed to one time.”

“You want to use your tickets already? I haven't even made them yet.”

“No fair! I want to go against Ulquiorra,” Levi whines.

Luke chimes in beside Simeon, “I want to play!”

The afternoon passes with a few wins, a few losses, and a welt or two that Asmo fawns over.

Dinner arrives with another round of fresh seafood and local produce, and bottles are opened as they eat inside the large indoor dining hall.

“As this is our last night here, I’d like to thank all of you for joining us.” Diavolo raises his glass of demonus. “This has been a true pleasure, and a treat to be joined by so many friends. I know that adjusting to life in the Devildom has been tough for our exchange students, and inviting new friends to our home has been challenging for us demons. I’m glad we could come together and learn more about each other, and ourselves. Thank you, all of you, and I hope the next half of our semester together is even better,” Diavolo finishes his short speech, and everyone agrees, drinking and talking amongst themselves.

Everyone has a smile on their face as they sit on pillows– or lay on them, in Belphegor’s case. The desire to lay down and sleep is strong, but he eats and sips his drink as he looks around the large chabudai.

The food is gone, but Barbatos continues to serve drinks. The demons and Simeon get demonus, Luke has juice, and a cold sake carafe sits between him and Solomon, who sits on one side of him.

Satan, sitting on his other side, relaxes a bit, getting comfortable on his pillow. “Having fun, Ulquiorra?” His smile is easy, and he sips his demonus.

Ulquiorra is feeling a bit warm as he sips his drink. Satan smiles wider, tucking Ulquiorra’s hair behind his ear. “You’re a bit red, I think you got a little sunburn today.”

Solomon finishes his drink, setting it on the table, and Ulquiorra picks up the bottle, pouring more for the sorcerer who thanks him.

Satan’s hand finds his hair again, untangling it. It’s a little damp from his shower. Satan’s other wrist props his head up, wine stem held by his long fingers.

Belphegor’s pact mark warms on his thigh, and his eyes close. This is pleasant. All of it. The loud buzz of everyone around him, the hand playing with his hair, the food and sake making his stomach warm. His skin itches from the heat and sun of the past few days, but it’s easily ignored when he takes another sip.

He opens his eyes enough to grab the bottle and refill his sake cup, and Solomon grins at him. “That’s rude, you know.”

Ulquiorra takes a sip, closing his eyes again. Satan’s hand guides his head to rest on his shoulder, and he moves until he’s comfortable, holding his cup with one hand.

“You alright? You’ve been very quiet. Not one snarky remark since they opened the bottle,” Satan’s voice is teasing as he checks in, leaning close to Ulquiorra’s ear so he can hear him above Levi and Luke yelling about a game, and Mammon bickering with Asmo, and even Lucifer and Diavolo chatting happily, loosely, without a care as Diavolo asks to sleep in their room after feeling left out during the retreat.

Ulquiorra nods his head slightly, and Satan wraps his arm around Ulquiorra’s shoulders.

He’s not unhappy. His chest hurts, but it’s not a bad feeling. It’s like all of his emptiness is gone, in this moment. The sake touches his lips. What is this? Contentment? Completion?

Maybe he’s just drunk.

Satan shifts, and Ulquiorra stifles his objection. “I’ll be right back, okay?” He sits up as Satan stands and leaves the room.

Solomon pours himself sake.

“That’s rude, you know,” Ulquiorra echoes Solomon from earlier.

Solomon snorts, “You just did it. I was born in Jerusalem, what’s your excuse?”

“Mm,” Ulquiorra furrows his brow, finding it hard to speak. “I’m from–” What’s the word in Japanese? He decides he doesn’t care. “--España.” And a few other places, but he doesn’t care to parse through the memories.

Solomon smiles. “Then let’s agree on the cultural difference.”

Satan settles back down, setting a plate of tempura vegetables between them. Barbatos is serving similar plates as well as bowls of edamame, and Satan fills a glass of water and sets it in front of Ulquiorra. “Here, you should have some water; the sun and heat will dehydrate you.”

Ulquiorra looks at the cup in his hand, and sets it down in favor of the water. He’s no fool; Satan is concerned about his alcohol consumption. And perhaps he’s justified, since Ulquiorra hasn’t had alcohol since he was an Arrancar. He feels good, though. He eats the vegetables, noting that they taste delicious; whether that’s someone’s cooking skills or his alcohol tolerance, he’s uncertain.

One at a time, the others retire for the evening. Beel carries Belphegor to bed, and Asmo helps Mammon when he stumbles. Luke yawns when Simeon wakes him, his head against Levi’s shoulder. The contentment hangs over the room, and he finds Satan handing him edamame after peeling them.

Satan finishes his glass of demonus, and Ulquiorra pours him another, to Satan’s amusement, if his grin is any indication. “Thank you, Ulquiorra.”

Ulquiorra sets the bottle down and picks up his own cup, feeling a bit incensed at Satan’s teasing. He’s glaring at the sake. He sets it down, taking another piece of edamame from a mischievous Satan.

“Feeling tired yet?” Satan asks, and the look on his face is as teasing as it is… sappy? He tries not to think about it.

“No.” He can hear the stubborn tone in his own voice.

“Want to take a walk down the beach? It’s our last night here.”

Ulquiorra tries to think about whether it’s a good idea or not, but when he stays silent, Satan stands, offering a hand to help Ulquiorra to his feet. Satan’s face is pink from drinking, but he doesn’t stumble.

“Be careful, you two,” Lucifer calls after them. Diavolo is still talking excitedly about his sleepover.

His head swims as they walk to the beach, the boardwalk disappearing under their bare feet in favor of sand. Satan guides him to the top of where the waves roll onto the shore, under the shadow of a dune.

The moons and stars sparkle on the water, a nipping breeze biting through Ulquiorra’s clothes. Satan sits beside him, the warm waves touching their feet, and wraps his arm around Ulquiorra’s shoulders again.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Satan settles beside him, tucking Ulquiorra’s head beneath his. “The lights on the water.”

The sand. The crescent moon in front of them. His voice sticks in his throat.

For a moment, that emptiness haunts him.

Why should it hurt so much? Why should something that he once relied on, once took pride in, once was so content with– why does it haunt him like a bad dream? Why is he afraid to go back? Why does the sand make his despair rise in his stomach like bile? Why does the crescent moon loom over him like the cold blade of a guillotine? He died under a moon just like this one.

Satan’s lips press against his hair. “Sobering up yet?”

He relaxes into Satan's warmth.

Ulquiorra closes his eyes. It’s over. He’s no longer confined to Hueco Mundo. He’s no longer drowning in empty sand, fighting for every moment of nothingness.

Satan pulls away to look at Ulquiorra’s face, and he meets blue-green eyes. They’re reflective, like other demons’, and shine in the faint light of the resort. The hand not around his shoulders hovers over his face before gentle, rough fingertips caress his cheek. The soft look in Satan’s eyes is foreign.

“You’re always in your head, you know? I’m the same. It makes it hard to know what you’re thinking.”

Satan’s face is close to his. He could lean in.

Ulquiorra furrows his brows, then notices that Satan’s arm is holding him up from laying in the sand because he’s unable to keep himself upright. He sighs, leaning into Satan. “I should tell the others. They deserve to know the truth of what I am.”

“I don’t disagree,” Satan buries his nose in Ulquiorra’s hair. “We’ll find an opportunity for you to speak with them.”

“We?”

“I’ll help you.”

Ulquiorra sits up, head knocking against Satan’s face, and focuses on Satan again. He has to grab Satan’s shoulder to stay upright. “You… I…”

“Careful. You don’t need another concussion,” Satan snarks a bit, steadying him after rubbing his nose. His irritation fades in favor of watching Ulquiorra.

He concentrates on the curve of Satan’s lips, trying to find the words. “You’re nice.”

“I’m nice?”

Ulquiorra nods, but stops when the movement makes his head spin. He winces, and Satan holds him tight. “You remind me of her.”

“Who do I remind you of, Ulquiorra?” Satan’s voice is so soft, so patient.

He remembers those moments when she challenged his beliefs. She was afraid at first, but she’d call him Ulquiorra-kun. The brothers shorten his name and call him by those cute honorifics after they got to know him, but she was the first one to push past that. She even struck him in the face for insulting her so-called friends; it didn’t hurt, could never hurt something like him, but he simply turned away from her.

She wasn’t afraid, in the end.

Satan kisses his forehead, brushing his hair from his face.

She wasn’t his friend. He was her captor. Her tormentor. But that isn’t right, either. He was simply her keeper. He was ordered to take her, to watch her, to keep her. And he would have killed her, wouldn’t he?

What is she? A would-be victim? An ant that escaped his heel?

He focuses on Satan’s face again.

“She challenged what I believed was true. She changed my perceptions, much like your brothers have. I knew her when I was an Arrancar.”

“Why do I remind you of her?”

That’s it, isn’t it?

“This heart, I feel it because of her.” His hands are shaking. His chest is tight, and why is his breath so hard to find? “Her and Kurosaki, they inflicted this upon me. They changed everything. Why do I want to be like them? I should have been content as a hollow. I don’t deserve any of this. I don’t want… any of this. It’s not for something like me.”

“Something like you? Ulquiorra, you–”

“I am a monster. I was born out of emptiness and hunger. I’m nothing but a hollow spirit, doomed to die and die and die–”

“Hey.” Satan’s face hardens, and he makes Ulquiorra focus on him. “If you’re a monster, then I’m worse than a monster. I was born from Lucifer’s hatred, and that’s all I’ve ever been. But look at me, Ulquiorra.” His nose bumps Ulquiorra’s. “I’ve become more than that. You’re capable of anything, and I want you to be happy.”

“What’s the point of being happy, and then losing everything again? Isn’t it better not to feel at all?”

“We don’t have that luxury. I spend every day bottling up my emotions and not letting anyone see them, and for what? I can’t stop feeling. I can’t stop wanting. You and I, we aren’t human, and we don’t need to pretend we are. We have these emotions, and they make everything important. Without them, you wouldn’t be alive now, would you? You feel something, you have a heart now, so why bother dealing with the future, or the past? You weren’t happy before, but you are now, right?”

“But I have to leave.”

Satan shakes his head, their noses rubbing. “Maybe you don’t. You’re not really human, so maybe they’ll let you stay.”

“They won’t.”

Satan pulls his face away, a hint of anger in his eyes. “So what? You want to ignore everything that could make you happy, just because you might feel sad later? Fuck that, Ulquiorra. Carpe Diem. Seize today. Do what makes you happy, and dedicate your life to staying that way.”

He notices how cold his hands are as he grips Satan’s shirt, tucking his head into Satan’s neck.

Satan sighs, the breath ruffling Ulquiorra’s hair. “I don’t want you to leave, either. I’ll help you, okay? Just let me help you.”

Satan is warm. Satan’s arms hold him close.

They find themselves laying in the sand, and Ulquiorra can’t find the strength to care about it getting in his hair and under his clothes. Satan lays next to him, fingertips tracing along Ulquiorra’s face with a tender reverence. Their lips meet a few times, Satan’s finding his cheeks and nose and anywhere he can reach without sitting up.

Their lips meet again and again, becoming more than chaste. Satan’s hands roam his body over his clothes, dipping beneath to find his skin. Ulquiorra finds his own hands exploring Satan’s back. One of Satan’s hands rests along his spine, making his pact mark pulse with magic. He holds him close.

In the shadow of the dune, the night stretches on in Satan’s arms.

Omg three more chapters left. Current anticipated update schedule:

Chapter 17 - Night’s Comfort (9/15/25) Chapter 18 - Anochecer (10/15/25) Chapter 19 - Heart of Mine (11/01/25) Chapter 20 - Eternal Night (12/01/25)

Last Chapter on Ulquiorra's Birthday!

The weeks that preceded the tests were tense. Living in the same house as Belphegor and the other brothers was something to treat tentatively. Everyone refused to talk about the issue, treating Ulquiorra and Belphegor like fragile objects. The peace was nebulous at best, even after they made a deal.

Mammon took to sleeping in Ulquiorra’s bed every few nights, denying any reason other than it being for Ulquiorra. “Thought you might get scared.” “It’s getting cold at night these days.” He didn’t argue, not with the way Mammon shuffled his feet when asking and clung to him in his sleep, not wanting to let go.

He lost his temper a few times, Satan’s pact blazing up his spine. No one seemed to let it bother them, forgiving his fleeting anger when it’s his fault and apologizing when it’s theirs.

The magic fades until it’s as dormant as the others.

The deal with Belphegor left a unique mark. Satan explained the marks one night when they stayed up reading together. The pact marks are a demon’s sigil, known as their true name, and the additional mark of an Avatar of Sin. Other demons’ marks would only be their sigil, like the mark Belphegor’s deal made on his thigh. It’s directly opposite to Beel’s, and there was no pact magic controlling his desires.

Lucifer parks the vehicle, and everyone scrambles to leave after hours of riding. It’s still relatively early.

Ulquiorra grabs his bag from the trunk, but Beel takes it from him. He fixes Beel with a look, but the demon only smiles and grabs his own bags. Mammon pouts next to him, following him inside the house.

Simeon and Solomon proposed a group cultural trip to the student council, and Lord Diavolo leapt at the opportunity, offering his private beach as a venue.

For three nights, they’d enjoy seaside luxury and Diavolo’s private beach house, as well as cultural excursions.

The sun is bright, too bright. He follows the others inside, looking around. The resort has a strong Japanese influence, with sliding doors and tatami mat floors. Everyone heads to their rooms after Barbatos gives them an itinerary and room assignment. There were two large rooms rented for the stay, and Diavolo got his princely suite, so the group is split in half.

Ulquiorra sets his bags in the room after getting them from Beelzebub. Mammon follows after him, talking about his plans for the week.

“You will be sticking to the itinerary set by Barbatos. You’ll have time in-between for whatever activities you choose.” Lucifer is standing near the door, no suitcase in sight. The itinerary is open in his hands. “You have until lunch today to settle in, and then as a group we will tour the estate grounds and the neighboring town. After that we may do various shopping, and then the shuttle will take us back here. When we come back, there is another free period until dinner, which will be provided by Barbatos and Lord Diavolo in the form of a beach barbecue. Then we will return here. Understood?”

No one is listening, wrapped up in going through their suitcases and conversations. Lucifer’s sigh is long-suffering, and he disappears through the door.

“C’mon, Ulq, get in your swimsuit!”

Ulquiorra glances at Mammon. “I have no intention of swimming.”

“Whaat?” Mammon’s eyes bulge, like the thought is inconceivable. “You’re all the way at the beach and you’re not going in the water?”

“Can you not swim?” Satan calls over from where he and Belphegor are talking. “The water won’t be deep.”

Ulquiorra shakes his head. “That’s no one’s concern.”

“Are ya afraid?” Mammon grins, and the desire to knock it off his face is tempting. “Dontcha worry, the Great Mammon’s got ya. I won’t let no water drown ya.”

Satan scoffs. “If he doesn’t want to swim, then we won’t pressure him.”

“I’ll also be keeping away from the water, so you don’t have to feel left out, Ulqui.” Solomon chimes in.

Belphegor hums, rubbing his face. “Swimming tires me out. You can rest with me on the beach.”

Ulquiorra sighs. “I don’t intend to swim, nor stand in the sun.”

“Huh?” Mammon tilts his head. “Are ya just staying here then?”

“No, he isn’t!” Asmodeus joins the conversation, calling from the doorway. “Sweetie, come this way.”

Mammon grabs his arm, holding him in place. “Nu uh, you aren’t taking Ulq to who-knows-where.”

Asmo rolls his eyes. “I’m taking him to the changing rooms so he can get into the swimsuit I brought him. I assume no one else got him one?”

The silence answers.

“And I’m sure you’d like to see him in one?”

Mammon sputters, releasing Ulquiorra. “I–”

“Great! Now follow me, Ulqui.”

Ulquiorra has learned it’s best to go along with their antics. He’d end up the same way if he tried to reject their attentions.

He follows Asmodeus to an empty room set for changing, and the demon hands him a bag. “Here! Put this on, and then I’ll put on your sunscreen when you’re done.”

Ulquiorra complies, the door sliding closed. The shorts are a dark green with lime green shapes at the bottom, and the shirt is a thin black tank-top. Asmodeus even brought the hat that he got while in the world of the living.

Asmodeus brings in a white bottle and has Ulquiorra stand still. “This is to protect your skin from the sun. Don’t want your poor skin to get burnt!”

Ulquiorra sighs, and Asmo looks at his chest. “The shirt is thinner than I thought. I should put sunscreen on your chest, too.” He doesn’t seem upset in the slightest, and Ulquiorra resigns himself, pulling the shirt back over his head.

Asmo opens the bottle, squeezing the cream into his hand. “It’ll be a little cold.” He’s right. Ulquiorra suppresses a frown as Asmo spreads it across his skin. He starts with Ulquiorra’s arms, making sweeping motions to rub it in. “You’re so pale, I almost can’t see the sunscreen,” Asmo teases.

The demon works diligently, moving to his chest with an impish grin. He leaves no skin untouched, eyes fluttering to Ulquiorra’s between his appraisal of Ulquiorra’s body. It… No, it’s not curious at all. There’s no reason for mere touches and approving looks to affect Ulquiorra. Even when nimble fingers tickle about his stomach, then his naval, around the hem of his shorts, and back up.

Asmo applies it to the tops of his feet, kneeling in front of Ulquiorra as his hands travel up the expanse of pale calves and up to his thighs, Asmo locking eyes as his hands wander beneath the shorts. “Just in case, these shorts are loose and ride up. And the reflections off the water can burn, too.” His smile spells out trouble, and he traces his fingers along Beelzebub’s pact mark. A sudden pout breaks his grin.

“Ulqui, when do I get to see my pact mark?” He whines, fingers still trailing along the lines. “Here’s Beel’s, and Belphie’s is across from it. And I’ve seen Mammon and Levi’s. Where are mine and Satan’s?” His pout disappears, eyes lidding as a thought seems to dawn on him. “Are they someplace naughty?”

Ulquiorra clicks his tongue. “Satan’s mark is on my back, and yours is on my hip. Your insinuations are juvenile.”

Asmo kisses Ulquiorra’s knee, rising from the ground. He stays close to Ulquiorra as he does so, providing a visual that Ulquiorra pushes out of his mind. “Yeah?” He leans in, lips inches apart. “I think you like my insinuations, just as much as anyone else. Isn’t that right?” Asmo grins, licking his lip.

Immediately he scowls, sticking his tongue out. “Ew, sunscreen.” Asmo laughs, kissing Ulquiorra’s cheek. “Turn around so I can get your back.”

Asmo hums when he turns. “I don’t think I’ve seen Satan’s mark before. A deal, maybe, but pacts are more rare with Avatars of Sin.” Hands apply the cold sunscreen, rubbing it into his back and shoulders, along the skin where the stitches were removed from his shoulder. The hands lower, grabbing his waist. Thumbs rub his lower back, and Asmo leans in. “You’re quite the special case, mon cher.” His breath tickles Ulquiorra’s ear.

He can feel his nerves responding, the blood in his veins pulsing as he takes a breath. “Are you done?”

Asmo giggles, sending a shiver down Ulquiorra’s spine. He can feel his hip growing warm where Asmo’s mark lays. “Deflective as ever, darling? Alright.” Asmo spins him around. “Your face and neck, and then we’ll be done.”

He lets Asmo get close to his face, humming cheerily. Asmo leaves a dot on his nose, giggling before he rubs it in. The fumes from the chemicals sting his eyes, but Asmo is careful. He even applies it to his ears, pausing when he gets to Ulquiorra’s neck. “Is it alright if I…”

There’s a tightening in his chest when he realizes what Asmo is asking. What he’s remembering.

“We have a pact. You can’t hurt me.”

Asmo’s brow furrows before smoothing out. “I know, but memories and trauma responses aren’t logical like that. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

Uncomfortable? A ghost of a smile threatens his lips. “You…. Asmodeus, your hands have been touching me everywhere else, and this is where you’re concerned?” A scoff leaves him.

Asmodeus grins unapologetically, a blush on his face. “I understand what you mean. Just let me know, mkay?” He flutters his lashes. His body presses close, one hand resting on Ulquiorra’s face and the other on his shoulder. Asmo stares into his eyes while his hands wander, gentle on Ulquiorra’s neck as they move aside hair and rub circles into the skin.

There is an instinct to pull away, to cover up, especially as those fingers find the spot where his hollow hole should be. The instinct screams at him to hide, to protect himself. The memory of Belphegor’s hands gets pushed out in favor of Asmo pressing a kiss to the corner of his lips.

“There! All done.” Asmo’s chipper voice breaks the spell. He grabs the hat, placing it on Ulquiorra’s head and flattening the front of the floppy brim. “You’re all ready for the beach, just wait a few minutes for the sunscreen to dry.” Asmo backs away, opening the bottle again. “I’m going to be a minute, but I’ll see you on the beach, okay?” The demon bats his eyelashes.

Ulquiorra nods, leaving the room. He licks his lip, tasting coconut-scented chemicals and a hint of rose lip gloss.

Mammon is standing outside of the shared bedroom, and perks up when he sees Ulquiorra. He pauses, looking up and down with an increasingly flustered face. “Oh, uh. Hey Ulq.” He looks away, clearing his throat. “Ready for the beach?”

They walk together after grabbing sandals, the sun bright once more as they head to the beach. It’s a short walk, and some of the group is already in the water or along the shore. Mammon runs ahead, and Ulquiorra makes his way to the shaded picnic area where Belphegor and Satan sit.

Belphegor is wearing a large, cow-patterned cover-up over his swim shorts, while Satan wears loud, flower-patterned shorts and a blue button-up. Their grins immediately spell trouble. Before he can ask, Beel runs over from the water. He stops next to Ulquiorra, and he can see the water dripping down Beel’s broad chest and arms.

“Hey Ulquiorra, Belphie, do you want to dig for clams with me? They taste really good when you cook them.”

“I think I’ll stay here, Beel. I’m sure ‘Quiorra will help you,” Belphegor yawns.

Ulquiorra glances between the twins, and Beel directs those pleading eyes upon him. “Fine.”

“I’ll help!” A voice shouts behind them, and Ulquiorra turns to see Luke racing up to them, Simeon trailing behind with a smile. They stop on Ulquiorra’s other side, and Luke pouts up at him. “It’s too bad, we aren’t in the same room, Ulqui.”

Not another person calling him a nickname. Should he even bother? The little angel keeps talking, and Beel explains the best way to find clams as they walk to the shore.

“See those little holes?” He points, and Luke seems to hang on his every word. “Something is breathing under there. So, if you dig,” he unearths a mollusk, “you’ll find something tasty.”

“That’s it?” Luke grins. “Easy.”

Beel nods. “Just be careful. Clams aren’t the only things in the sand.”

Beel wanders down one end of the beach, digging up clams and dropping them in a bucket. Ulquiorra and Luke make their way down the other side. Ulquiorra carries their bucket, the little angel excited to dig in the sand. The edge of his hand has scarred, but is fading.

Waves crash against the shore, the breathing holes opening up in their wake. Sure enough, a crab grabs onto Luke’s shirt after he unearths it, causing the kid to screech and flail until Ulquiorra pries it off and tosses it into the ocean. Luke thanks him profusely, lip quivering, and they decide to stop. Their bucket is nearly full, anyway. They add some sea water to keep the clams alive, and return to the picnic table.

Solomon is sitting beside Satan, a snicker on his lips as he teases Luke.

Luke leaves to join Simeon in wading in the water, in an exaggerated huff.

Satan leans closer to Ulquiorra. “Hey, want in?”

“In?” Ulquiorra tilts his head, assessing the others at the table. They all have grins on their faces.

“We’re planning to prank Lucifer. It’ll work for sure this time, if all of us are involved.”

Sure, Lucifer had been very quiet since the incident, and he only really spoke to Ulquiorra when necessary, and last time it ended poorly, but….

“What did you have in mind?”

Ulquiorra listens to their petty ideas. They’re rather underdeveloped and he has to wonder if the group really thinks they’ll work. A sand pit trap? Nonsense.

He leaves in favor of grabbing drinks for the group. It was meant only for himself, but all three of them chime in and give him grimm. Lucifer had given him a budget and card for his purchases during the trip. All the more reason not to prank the eldest brother.

That doesn’t mean he’ll be ratting out the others, though.

The cabana is apart from the japanese-style inn, and seems to be decorated in an island theme, with a straw roof and coconut tree decor. He orders the drinks and pays, and is waiting when he sees Diavolo approaching.

“Hello, Ulquiorra!” He smiles, sharp teeth visible with how wide his grin is. His arms open as he talks, with nothing but excitement in his voice. “I hope you’re enjoying yourself so far; I must say, seeing you in beach clothes is rather strange. In a good way! I have plenty planned for the rest of the stay, so I hope everyone has a good time.”

Ulquiorra nods, a bit taken aback by how loud and boisterous the prince is, restless in his stance.

“If there’s anything you need, don’t hesitate to ask.” Diavolo pauses, his smile faltering before he beams again. “I’m sure it will be rather busy in the rooms tonight. I thought of dividing the groups more, like at the retreat, but I felt that the large groups will bring more amity and fun. I got the suite reserved for me, as the proprietor, though I can’t help but be jealous.”

“Jealous?” Ulquiorra would have relished the silence. He hasn’t had a silent moment since he returned to the House of Lamentation, it seems.

“Oh, don’t mind me. We’ll all have a lovely time.”

Lunch passes with everyone in the resort’s dining hall, and then they tour the resort, including the pool, lounge, and historic areas. There’s an optional submarine tour into the underground resort palace in the evenings. Lighthouse tours and private rentals will be available for those who sign up. Various water, fishing, and sports supplies are provided by a shop up the beach. The group boards the shuttle into the nearby town of Shellsvaine. Asmo gave him a black beach cover-up for the trip. He has to wonder how much Asmo got him specifically for the beach.

Barbatos gives commentary on the sites they pass on the bus, but most of them talk through the tour.

“I’m gonna get me a snorkel set,” Mammon beams. “Then I can dive for treasure.”

Asmodeus rolls his eyes. “I need to get more chapstick with SPF, I’m almost out.” He glances at Ulquiorra. “I’ll let you have some, though, Ulqui.”

“Are you going to apply it for him?” Belphie scoffs.

Asmo grins, making a kissing face. “Maybe.”

The ride is rather tedious, but they all arrive in one piece.

“You all have an hour and a half of time to shop and explore. We’ll return on the third day for the museum tour, so ship large items or leave them with the clerks and retrieve them later. If you miss the shuttle, you will have to catch the next one in three hours.” Barbatos recites the itinerary, though a few have already wandered off.

Mammon tries to invite him along, but Lord Diavolo claps a hand on Ulquiorra’s shoulder and leads him along one of the streets. Barbatos follows them.

“I’ve so looked forward to this little excursion, ever since Simeon and Solomon brought it up. I must say, when they told me that it was your idea, I was rather shocked.” He beams.

“It was their idea. I merely agreed that a trip wouldn’t be a terrible idea.”

“Still. I think it perfectly encapsulates my goals when I decided to do the exchange program: the three realms coming together to strive for harmony together. I think it has been good for all of us, don’t you? I can’t help but notice how much you’ve changed since it began.”

“Indeed,” Barbatos agrees. “Compared to how you were before you arrived, you have changed rather dramatically. I’d say you were the perfect choice, Ulquiorra.”

His words send alarm through Ulquiorra’s senses, but Diavolo interrupts his surprise with a hearty laugh. “I must say, when Barbatos brought you to my attention as a candidate, I had my doubts.” He gives Ulquiorra a knowing look.

Ulquiorra slows, until Diavolo stops to look at him.

“So you have decided to show your true intentions now?” Will he finally learn why he’s here?

Diavolo tilts his head to a nearby cafe. “Let’s get a table and we’ll explain.”

Ulquiorra sips his coffee as the two sit across from him. “So, tell me, why am I here? Why choose me, knowing what I was?”

Diavolo nods at Barbatos, and the butler sets down his tea.

“When we were finalizing the exchange program, we already had a human candidate selected. They would have certainly been an optimal choice, and done well in the Devildom as an ambassador. Unfortunately, the timeline I saw changed. They passed away and their soul was already in the afterlife when it came to our attention. Humans are rather fragile, after all.”

“I spoke to the reaper who had processed their soul, and when they told me they were irretrievable, I knew we had to find a new candidate quickly. They told me that they had a few souls that were still caught between realms, in the Precipice World, where I have domain. When I saw you, I had a vision. That’s when I brought my idea to Lord Diavolo.”

Diavolo leans forward, his smile crinkling his eyes. “When I heard that you would be so perfect for the program, I set aside my worries and allowed Barbatos to create a human vessel and energy seal for your soul. I didn’t expect that you would make pacts and change the brothers so much, but was constantly looking forward to your next move. You’ve certainly kept us on our toes.” Diavolo sips his bufo egg tea. “I apologize that we couldn’t tell you all this sooner, but we wanted to keep your journey as hands-off as possible. And look at you now! Pacts with five of the strongest demons in the Devildom, and all seven of the brothers clearly respect you. A feat for any creature, and even more so for a human.”

“But I’m not a human.”

Diavolo shrugs. “You’re in a human body. You have the opportunity to learn what that means for yourself. Although, if you were separated from this body, it wouldn’t have a soul chain. You would be in your Arrancar soulform, with your powers. You would likely be exorcized by a soul reaper, however.”

He feels the furrow in his brow. “So you chose me because of a vision. What was it?”

“Something that has yet to pass,” Barbatos nods.

Diavolo pouts. “He hasn’t told me, either.”

“And this seal on my energy, should keep it sealed all the time? It fails often.”

Barbatos’s eyes flash. “Indeed. It reacts to others’ magic, as the soul’s defense response.”

“It does nothing for attacks upon my person. It is useless.”

He shakes his head. “It doesn’t defend the body, as the body we created for you is not part of your soul but is a mere vessel; it defends the soul from other magic. When you took upon Solomon’s magic, when you opened the cursed attic door, your emotional outburst while your pact with Satan was still settling, all of these encroached with your soul’s own magic, so it reacted beyond the seal.”

Ulquiorra takes a moment to absorb the revelations. Ever since he arrived, these questions had stuck to his skull and latched on. But now, to have them answered, seems so small and insignificant. Now, all he really wants to know is, “I would like to stay here, in the Devildom. Is this possible?”

“No,” Diavolo gives him a sympathetic smile. “You may be permitted to visit, but we cannot keep a human in the Devildom beyond the exchange program. The Celestial Realm wouldn’t allow it, and truly, you should learn about humans and truly become one again. If you truly want to return, then prove to us that you can be a representative of the Human Realm.”

It’s disappointment. It’s anger. It’s sadness. He acknowledges each one as they bubble in his stomach. It’s resignment. It’s resolve.

He nods, finishing his coffee.

They shop for a while, Ulquiorra mulling over all he’s learned, and he gets roped into Levi and Mammon’s group until it’s time to return to the beach.

“Ulquiiiiiiii come swim with me,” Asmo pleads, but his sad face is not as persuasive as Beel or Luke’s. “Pleaaaaaase.” But he is insistent.

“I already humored three sunscreen applications today. I have no need to swim.”

“Hey Ulq, c’mere.” Mammon holds a large black floatie. It has little bat wings on the sides and a cartoon face.

Asmo sighs, leaving them to talk in favor of chatting with Solomon further up the beach.

“I figured you haven’t swam much, and that’s why ya don’t wanna go in the water. But if you’re in this, you don’t have to worry since you’ll float. And I can be close to you, too, in case you–”

“I have no desire to swim, Mammon.”

His face falls a bit, but he recovers. “Alright, I getcha. If you’re still afraid, ain't nothing I can do to convince you.”

“You won’t convince me with such tactics.”

Mammon pouts, hugging the floatie. “Fine then, I guess I’ll use this. Since ya don’t want my present.” He turns to the water, starting to walk into the waves. He turns his head back to speak over his shoulder. “Too bad, Ulq doesn’t wanna hang with his favorite demon.”

Ulquiorra feels like scoffing. The thought of being surrounded by so much water, his feet digging into the sand, was admittedly daunting. He watches the others who already wade into the sea, grinning and unperturbed by the spray. It seems shallow, as Beel is a hundred meters out and it’s still only to his stomach.

He steps closer, water covering his feet when the waves crash in. It’s warm. Mammon stops when he notices Ulquiorra make his way closer, the waves touching his knees before pulling back out to the sea. It’s strong, but he remains standing.

There’s a panic that he crushes down, one that stays in his chest as he forces himself forward, next to Mammon.

The demon grins, and they walk a little farther, until the water touches Ulquiorra’s stomach. It’s cooler at his feet, where the water pulls into the sea during the troughs, and reaches his chest with large white-crested waves.

“Ya good?” Mammon’s voice is nonchalant and dismissive, but Ulquiorra can read his glance as concern.

“I’m fine. It’s just water.”

“And fish. Do you see them?”

Ulquiorra had been preoccupied with watching the waves, but as he looks down, he sees bright flashes. A striped one here, a pink one there. Tiny fish flit about, and stones and shells float back and forth with the waves. “Yes.”

“Here,” Mammon puts the floating ring over Ulquiorra’s head, fixing his hat to cover his face again. “Hold onto this.”

Mammon dives under, coming back up quickly. “Dang, they’re fast.” He repeats this again, coming back up empty-handed. “Stupid fish.”

“Why are you trying to catch them anyway?”

Mammon pushes his hair out of his face, and it sticks back from the saltwater. “It’s fun. And they’re shiny. I wanted to show one to you up close.”

“I’m sure there will be ample time to view them.” Ulquiorra grabs onto the floatie during a particularly large wave.

Mammon looks at him for a moment, a smile forming on his lips. “Yeah? I’ll make sure to show you.” He leans his arms on top of the floatie, his grin happy and his eyes closing. “Do you like shells? There’s some pretty ones on the beach.”

Their faces are close. He hadn’t considered kissing Mammon before, hadn’t considered anything aside from those nights they slept next to each other after his pact with Asmo, and those thoughts had long since diminished. But now, with Mammon’s face close to his and such a warm contentment, it makes him long for… something. What is it he wants?

The floatie shifts, nearly capsizing and sending both of them under, and Asmodeus snickers when Ulquiorra turns his head to look. Mammon grumbles, shoving Asmo, and the two of them bicker.

“Anyway,” Asmo rolls his eyes. “You two need to steer clear of Satan and Belphegor, they’re plotting something. Even Solomon has been roped in. Lucifer is going to have a fit when he finds out, and I think we should all be scarce for it.”

“Hah? What are they planning?”

“How should I know? I only know enough to stay away from them.”

“Their ideas were rather childish earlier, I doubt they have much planned,” Ulquiorra notes.

Asmo shrugs. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He leans on the other side of the floatie, leaning close to Ulquiorra’s face despite Mammon’s protest. “You’re looking a bit pink. Maybe we should put more sunscreen on you.”

“Again?” Surely he’s had enough by now.

“Yes, darling. You’re the palest one here besides Solomon. Unless you want blisters on your pretty face, you need to stay on top of it.”

Mammon clicks his tongue. “Yeah, he’s right. Let’s go sit in the shade!”

Ulquiorra thinks about what he wants as they walk to shore and the two demons fight over who applies his sunscreen.

What’s the feeling he’s searching for?

Asmo scolds Mammon for his poor lathering skills, Mammon griping back.

He sits back in the chair, sighing. He’s tired already.

His eyes close after they finish, and he must have dozed off, because Mammon and Luke are walking up to him from the beach. The sun has dipped lower, painting the sand in amber hues and sparkling on the water.

“Have a nice nap, Ulq?” Mammon grins, holding something behind his back. Luke giggles beside him, carrying a bucket.

He sits up, a towel falling off him, looking between the two of them. “What do you have?”

“Pff,” Mammon shakes his head. “Can’t let anything be fun, huh? Here.” Mammon holds his hand out, showing him a shiny green shell. “It looks like your eyes.”

Luke can’t wait, and bounces over to show Ulquiorra the other shells they found. “We’re gonna walk down the other side now, wanna come with?”

Ulquiorra takes the shell from Mammon. It’s iridescent, shimmering in the light. It’s unlike anything he’s seen before. He’d dare say it’s beautiful. “Thank you.” Luke is still staring at him expectantly. “I suppose a walk would be fine.”

The little angel nearly dances, wiggling happily. “Let’s go!”

They pass a few of the others as they walk down the beach. The tide has risen, and Luke laments the loss of the best time to find shells.

“We’ll have to come back to look tomorrow, huh Fido?”

“I’m not a dog.” Luke scowls, but takes the shell Mammon gives him.

“Woof woof.” The two of them bicker. They point out driftwood and shells and small creatures along the way.

Ulquiorra is still tired, but the walk is nice. The waves spray his legs, and the air is cooling.

He gets his own collection, between the two giving him shells. He slips them in the pockets of his swim shorts, watching their happy faces when he accepts them.

Barbatos sets up the beach for a barbecue, and he's cooking by the time they return.

Beel and Levi caught fresh fish, and the clams they collected this morning are cleaned by expert hands, along with all of the other food that the royals brought with them.

Luke sits next to him on the bench when they get to the pavilion area, and Mammon claims his other side when he comes back with drinks.

“A little devil mango slushy for the little angel and an iced devilberry tea for the human.” He grins, sipping on his own drink.

Ulquiorra tries the dark purple tea, noting that it’s a bit tart, but cold enough to make him feel refreshed.

“You like it? Here, try mine.” Mammon slides his over. It has a paper umbrella and pieces of fruit sticking out. “It’s a “devil on the beach”. It’s got blood strawberries, mango, pained pineapple, and a few other things. No alcohol.”

Ulquiorra tries it, scrunching his nose when the icy slush touches the roof of his mouth.

“Haha, don’t like that one?”

“It’s too cold.”

Luke offers his, but Ulquiorra declines. It’s also blended with ice.

Dinner passes. All of the food was delicious, even the things he was uncertain of. There was smoked meat and steamed clams and sushi, everything all spread out. Everyone ate their fill, even while competing against Beelzebub.

Luke nearly fell asleep, gathered around the fire. Simeon takes him to bed, and it seems everyone follows along.

He changes, stretches out his futon, and falls asleep within seconds.

Ulquiorra stirs, taking a while to fully wake up. The room is empty, and it’s early morning. Everyone must be at breakfast or the beach.

He dresses in another pair of swim shorts, one that Mammon got him while in town yesterday, and a patterned button-up. He puts on the sunscreen that Asmo left for him, enjoying the quiet.

Until Satan peeks his head through the doorway. “Hey, you’re awake. Good. I wanted to see if you’d like to join me on the lighthouse tour today, maybe after lunch? It would just be the two of us.” His smile is warm. Asmo’s warning about their plot lingers, but he sees no harm in touring the lighthouse.

“Very well. I will join you.”

“Then I’ll come find you after lunch.”

He disappears, and Ulquiorra makes his way to the beach. The sun is still rising on the other end of the shore, though it’s definitely closer to noon, and he sees a few of the others playing or relaxing.

Simeon waves him over to where he and Luke are standing in the water, Solomon standing nearby on the shore.

The angels are crowded around something, and when he walks past Solomon and the water touches his feet, he can see the head of some sort of sea creature.

Luke pets its nose. “Look, a dolphin! Isn’t it cool!” His eyes are wide with excitement.

Simeon smiles beside him. “Solomon called it over so we could see it up-close.”

A dolphin. He’s heard of those before, he thinks. Maybe seen one, but he can’t know for sure.

The angels beckon him to have a closer look, and it makes a chirping sound, letting him touch its face. Its skin is black, smooth and rubbery.

“It’s a jet-black dolphin, they’re known for being friendly. Scratch under its chin,” Solomon suggests.

Ulquiorra complies, and it shrieks, leaning into his touch. The sound is unpleasant, but the dolphin seems to enjoy it.

“See? They tend to like that. He’s no exception.”

Ulquiorra doesn’t doubt his expertise.

“Solomon can talk to them,” Luke exclaims, ecstatic to be petting something so unique. “They understand him, too. And he knows what they’re saying.”

Yet another mark off of Solomon being human. “I see.”

“It’s simply one of my gifts,” Solomon smiles proudly. “Ocean creatures are easy to understand.”

After a while, the dolphin has to move on, and lunch passes.

Satan finds him after, and they walk down the beach to the lighthouse.

“I’m glad you agreed to come with me.” Satan walks beside him, keeping their pace unhurried as sand turns to cobblestone beneath their feet. “This lighthouse is known to be an ideal destination. Not only is its use and history important culturally, but also as a story that relates to personal lives.”

Ulquiorra eyes him, but his face is neutral, if not relaxed. “What’s its story?”

“I’ll tell you on the way up.”

The lighthouse’s base comes into view.

“Have you been enjoying yourself so far?”

“It has not been unpleasant.”

“So yes.” Satan smiles at him, his genuine smile disarming. “I’m glad. What with everything… It’s good to have a break.”

Ulquiorra nods.

They still don’t talk about what happened. Not really. They mention it and dance around the topic, but it’s as if everything will break if they do.

The irritation flickers.

Satan glances at him. “You alright? Tell me.”

The insistence on actually telling Satan what’s making him angry is something Satan started doing shortly after their pact. Ulquiorra would rather ignore it, but Satan prods in the name of Ulquiorra’s human need to vent and their pact’s health.

“I died. I wish others would not avoid the truth in favor of sparing me the reminder.”

Satan opens the door for him and they enter the lighthouse.

“Hello, how can I help you?” The receptionist smiles, her eyes alight.

“Reservation under Satan.”

“Right on time, my lord. You may go up.”

The door to the tower closes behind him, and Satan replies: “It’s not just for you. None of us wish to relive that night.”

“But it happened. Ignoring it will not accomplish anything.”

“That’s true. But it’s hard to talk about because it hurts.”

Ulquiorra glances up. There are a lot of stairs to the top.

“We’ll get there,” Satan licks his lip, glancing again at Ulquiorra. He has the notion of its double meaning.

“I understand its difficulties. I simply wish not to skirt around it.”

“Then don’t.” Satan keeps in step with him. There’s something in his voice. He’s hesitating about something. “It’s… it’s your trauma. Your death. Deal with it however you need. We’ll be here.”

We’ll be here. What does that mean? They'll be with him, no matter how he expresses this burning need to escape this skin every time he remembers? No matter how he shuts down, or sobs into Satan’s sweater? How can he trust that?

The rest of the trip is quiet, aside from his breathing as they ascend. At the top, he catches his breath, only to have it stolen by the sight before him.

He steps closer, out onto the platform. The beach is well below them. He can see the resort, the bar; even the town peeks from afar. The salty air still reaches them up here, but it’s cooler, fresher.

“This lighthouse…” Satan loses his words, lost in thought as he leans against the railing, staring out into the ocean. “It’s thousands of years old. It existed during the Great Celestial War. Levi commands Hell’s navy, and he’d use this lighthouse to find his way home. That was before Lord Diavolo used his magic to create the sun here. The story is that a pair of lovers used to run this lighthouse together, until the day they passed during a particularly bad storm. They guided millions of demons home. Since then, this lighthouse has been a destination for historians and lovers alike.”

Satan goes quiet. There’s a melancholy to his voice, to his face. When he looks at Ulquiorra, he smiles. Ulquiorra meets his eyes, thinking about his words.

“It’s an important piece of Devildom history. Perhaps I shall include it in my cultural project, if you provide me with some research material.”

One side of Satan’s lips quirk up. “A historian, then?”

“What?”

Satan shakes his head. “I’ll get you a book on it. That’s not why I wanted to come all this way with you, however.” He straightens up, sliding closer to Ulquiorra. He leans down. “I wanted to come here because I’ve heard,” His voice wavers, and he bites his lip before trying again. “I’ve heard that it’s a popular spot for confessions and proposals.”

His mind blanks. Confessions? Proposals?

“I like you, Ulquiorra. I desire to pursue you, if that is not something you’d dislike. I don’t care how long it will take, or how much you don’t understand or feel. I want to get to know you, to sate all my curiosity for you while you’ll allow it. I want to kiss you, to talk with you and read with you at all hours of the night. I want to do other things with you, to let you find what you like. I want to invoke your wrath and your desire. This is my confession to you, Ulquiorra Cifer.”

Satan’s eyes don’t part from his, faces close enough that Satan could lean in and kiss him.

Does he want to be kissed? Does he want Satan to kiss him?

Does he only want Satan to kiss him? He recalls the kiss with Asmodeus. The moments with Mammon. His supposed crush on Simeon. Does accepting this confession mean declining any others?

“My proposal.” Satan’s hands find his hips, forehead resting against his. Satan’s eyes close. Their chests are almost touching. “When we want to, we sit closer. You let me hold you. You let me kiss you, and you kiss me. We find comfort and pleasure with each other. We talk about anything and everything, and I learn all I can about you. We hold our liaison until we are either through with it, or until you leave the Devildom.”

Right. It’s not for a long time. If he decides he hates it, will Satan stop? Ulquiorra can make him stop with the pact. If it’s just the two of them, then others need not pry. He may have to deal with their jealousies.

“You can take some time to think about it.” Satan’s breath is minty, and he pulls his face back. “Thank you for allowing me to say what I needed.”

Ulquiorra waits. His eyes flick to Satan’s lips. The others can be jealous.

Satan stares, eyes widened as he catches the movement. “Do you…?”

“Aren’t confessions typically ended with a kiss?”

Hands twitch at Ulquiorra’s sides. “Accepted ones do.”

“I shall go along with what you wish.” There’s a sensation, a need in his chest. “I assume if I dislike something, it will cease?” It goes beyond simple bodily desire. It’s something in his soul.

“If you let me know, then of course,” Satan breathes out.

Ulquiorra nods. “Then you may–” he’s cut off with a kiss. Satan’s hand presses against his back, pressing their chests together. Satan’s lips move against his with desperation that results in his tongue pressing against Ulquiorra’s. A muffled sound escapes him, and Satan moves them away from the railing.

Satan presses Ulquiorra into the wall, his lips moving down his jaw. He kisses down his neck, and Ulquiorra’s hands bunch into Satan’s loose shirt.

His back arches when Satan’s teeth dig into his shoulder, one hand unbuttoning Ulquiorra’s shirt for better access.

Satan bites the same spot harder, a gasp forced out of his chest. An approving rumble sounds in his ears, and Satan’s tongue laves over the bite.

His mind rushes and he remembers the marks Satan left last time they were like this. He remembers the ways Satan made him feel, how he touched him. He licks his lip, thoughts fuzzy and centered only on Satan.

Satan pulls his face back, grinning. “Got a bit carried away. Apologies for that,” He removes himself, hands rebuttoning Ulquiorra’s shirt. “I’m looking forward to getting to know you more and more, Ulquiorra.” He grabs Ulquiorra’s hand when they turn to the door.

The whirlwind of kissing, of Satan’s hands leaving him, is frustrating, but his hand is warm where Satan holds it.

He gives another look to the view. It’s nice to feel the wind again, but he doesn’t need it.

This chapter ended up being over 10k. Not that I wasn't tempted to keep it at 10k.

Enjoy Ulquiorra at the beach and then crispy Ulquiorra lol. Getting ready for the last five chapters! I apologize in advance for any delays, I'm moving countries and starting classes this month.

Also enjoy one of the supporting documents that helped me decide to create Noche Eterna as a serious, full-length work.

The story started as a funny what-if that blossomed into much more. The more I thought of it, the more it clicked into something fully fleshed-out and resounding. There are things I'd change if I rewrote it, but I think that's an important part of writing. It's definitely helped me decide to write some of my original content, and the feedback from posting it has been inspiring. Noche Eterna has over 1,000 hits on AO3!

Thank you.

After Simeon greeted him at the House of Lamentation, Simeon mentioned that he’s heard what happened. Diavolo requested that Ulquiorra stay at Purgatory Hall until the immediacy fades, and thought perhaps it would also be a good thing for Ulquiorra to learn more about the other exchange students.

Trying to fix what’s been broken by their inaction.

At first, Ulquiorra considered refusing, but Simeon’s patient smile and promise that he could return any time soothed him.

Since there are no empty rooms at Purgatory Hall, Simeon offered his couch until Ulquiorra can go back to the House of Lamentation.

Simeon smiles at him, handing him a bag. “I brought some lunch.” He frowns when he sees the bandage on Ulquiorra’s hand. His pretty blue eyes give him a once-over, lips pressing thin. “Here,” Simeon’s hand reaches up, pressing against the center of Ulquiorra’s chest. There’s a small flash of light, and warmth radiates through Ulquiorra’s body. He sighs, feeling himself relax as the pain from his wounds ebbs.

“I can’t heal you entirely, of course, but this should help.”

Ulquiorra nods, feeling dumb. “Thank you.” Simeon is so close. His hand is warm on Ulquiorra’s chest before he pulls it away, giving Ulquiorra a radiant smile.

 “I have to go back to RAD, but feel free to do as you please. My home is your home.” Ulquiorra nods at him. Simeon leaves, and Ulquiorra sits down. The couch is comfortable, and he finds himself wanting to rest, especially now that his wounds don't hurt as bad. He removes the bandage on his hand, noting that the cut from the bowl is scarred over in a thin white.

Why is he so tired? Is it due to his time travel? He rubs his eyes, focusing on his school work. He’s excused from classes for a couple of days, and the others will get his homework for him, but he’ll be missing the lectures. He needs to stay caught up.

He dozes after he finishes his Devildom Languages homework.

The smell of something delicious wafts through the dorm to wake him, and Ulquiorra follows it down the hallway, feeling refreshed.

He sees Simeon talking to Solomon in the arm chairs in the common space, still in their uniforms and their bags open beside them. The coffee table is covered in what looks like their homework. They greet him, but turn back to their conversation. He peers around the doorway into the kitchen.

Luke stands in front of the counter, using an electric mixer. He hums to himself, lost in his focus.

Fresh-baked bread rolls sit on the counter, more illuminated in the oven.

The boy glances over his shoulder, face lighting up when he sees Ulquiorra. “Oh you’re awake! Sorry, I was trying to be quiet so you could rest.”

“It was the smell of bread that woke me, there’s no need to apologize,” Ulquiorra replies.

“Sounds more pleasant than banging pans,” Solomon jokes from the couch. He’s smiling, but it’s more cautious than usual. He’s eyeing Ulquiorra. Is he plotting something, or does he know what happened?

“I’m glad you’re here,” Luke wipes his hands on his apron, jumping down from his stool to rush over to Ulquiorra. He doesn’t throw himself, which Ulquiorra is thankful for, but he hugs Ulquiorra tight. When he pulls away, there’s fine dust on Ulquiorra’s clothes. Luckily he changed from his uniform. “Those demons, I knew they couldn’t be trusted. Are you still hurt?” His eyes have that quality that makes his chest twist as he looks Ulquiorra up and down.

“I am not hurt, no.” It’s a lie, but the boy doesn’t need to know. Besides, Simeon’s magic soothed most of the injuries.

“Still,” Luke wrinkles his nose. “You’re safe here.”

Safe.

That’s never a promise.

Luke perks up. “Oh right, come see the bread I’m making!” He grabs Ulquiorra’s hand, pulling him into the kitchen.

Something in his chest feels light when he allows himself to be dragged by the angel, who tells him all about the paradise sourdough he’s making to pair with dinner.

Luke’s stomach rumbles, and his face turns red. “Oops. Smelling it this whole time has made me hungry.” He rubs his stomach, scowling as if to scold it. He points to what he was mixing, a cream cheese herb and smoked menacing salmon spread. “This will go in the fridge until dinner.” He glances over his shoulder, looking at Ulquiorra and then at the door.

“Of course, we should make sure it tastes good, right?” Luke smiles. He grabs a roll from the cooling rack. “It’ll be a bit more doughy since it isn’t cooled yet, but it’ll still taste good.” He cuts it in half, spreading some of the cream cheese and salmon on both halves, and leans in conspiratorially to hand one to Ulquiorra. “For quality control.”

Ulquiorra takes it, and the first bite makes a tension release in his shoulders. It’s delicious. There’s a sweetness from the salmon, the smoky flavor clinging to it. The bread is soft, and the herbs cut through the cloying cream cheese. There’s a hint of spice at the back of his throat. A memory flashes through his mind, fleeing too quickly for him to catch anything but the feeling of contentment and peace.

It disappears quickly, even when he tries to savor it. A broad smile covers Luke’s face, and his is gone just as fast. “It’s a little different because of the Devildom ingredients, but Barbatos helped me with the substitutions.”

“It’s good. I’m looking forward to dinner.”

Luke swells a bit, seemingly happy with the praise. “If even you say so, then it must be really good.” He turns back, covering the bowl.

Ulquiorra thinks of the words he wants. “I enjoy the food you make.”

“Hmhm,” Luke picks up the bowl, responding as he puts it in the fridge. “You don’t like to admit it though, right? When you like something?”

“I’m attempting to remedy that.” Even if it’s difficult to express these desires.

“Really?” Luke closes the fridge. “Why?”

Why? “Because it is what others appreciate.” He eyes the remaining rolls, and watches Luke pull the next batch out of the oven. It’s a silly question to ask. He’s being cordial, right?

“Hm, well,” Luke turns back to him. “I think it’s good you’re trying to be nicer, but if you’re too nice…. That’s weird. I don’t want you to be too nice, because then,” his face is scrunched up a bit, as if he’s thinking hard about it. “Well, then you’re just not you. If you give out praise to everyone, no one knows what you actually like.”

It clicks, like when Asmodeus was giving him skincare concoctions and yelling at his indifference. “I understand, but you misread me. It is not praise, nor is it something I give freely. I would not say it is good if I dislike it.”

“Good,” Luke smiles again. “I’m going to start on the roasted vegetables. Do you want to help? Simeon is on Solomon duty tonight.”

“Solomon duty?”

“Remember when he cooked at the retreat?”

Ulquiorra scrunches his nose, remembering the smell. “I see. You two take turns keeping Solomon out of the kitchen?”

“Yes,” Luke bemoans, gathering vegetables from the fridge and counter. “So many good meals, wasted because we left him alone.”

“How is he that awful?” Even Ulquiorra is serviceable in the kitchen. He takes the vegetables from Luke and washes them. Luke won’t have to drag the stool across the kitchen, at least.

The little angel smiles and grabs two cutting boards and accompanying knives, a pan already coated in olive oil.

The two of them cut vegetables in silence, aside from their knives cutting through vegetables and small corrections from Luke.

“There!” Luke exclaims, shutting the oven door. “Now we wait. The bread should cool and the spread will be ready when the vegetables are done.”

“Nothing else?” Perhaps Ulquiorra is too used to the mountainous portions that Beel and the brothers require.

Luke flushes a bit. “I might have a dessert already made. I’m working on it! Sweets are just more fun to make.”

“I enjoy sweets.”

Luke laughs. “Simeon scolds me for making so many, but he loves them, too. And if I make way too much, I can always share with Beelzebub.” His smile turns sheepish. “He likes everything. Then he asks me to make more.”

“He is an avid enjoyer of food, often regardless of quality or quantity.” Ulquiorra remembers the day he made pancakes for the demon.

Part of the family.

Is that what he is chasing?

Luke retreats to work on homework, and Ulquiorra finds himself in the common room with Solomon and Simeon. They’ve finished their homework, talking about Devildom sights to visit while sitting on the sofa.

“The Cacophonous Critterland was so much fun,” Simeon lifts up his keychain, eyes crinkled. “These were a gift from the prince. We should take you next time, Ulquiorra.”

“Indeed, they have quite the menagerie.” Solomon is scrolling through his DDD. “There’s a racetrack, but that seems more Mammon’s choice.” He didn’t get a chance to talk to Mammon before he left.

“A devil aquarium,” Simeon peeks over the sorcerer’s shoulder. “That would be fun. Luke would probably enjoy that, too.”

“A planetarium.” Solomon smiles. “Maybe Satan would join me.”

“I doubt it, but I’m sure you’ll try.”

“We have a whole week for the break after midterms, so we should make the most of it. Experiencing new cultures and points of view is the point, right? Perhaps I can convince him.”

Simeon shakes his head with a smile, meeting Ulquiorra’s eyes. “Why don’t you come look with us, Ulquiorra?”

Ulquiorra opens his mouth to decline, but Solomon looks up too. “C’mon, Ulqui.”

Solomon grins as Ulquiorra glares. It loses all its bite and Solomon pats the space beside him.

“You’ve adopted Asmodeus’s nickname for me,” he comments as he sits in the space left for him, elbow touching the sorcerer’s.

“It’s cute.”

Ulquiorra frowns, but he’s interrupted by Simeon pointing out the museum.

“And the botanical gardens. I’m sure Barbatos would like that.”

“Maybe we should get the whole exchange program involved in a day trip. It could be fun, all of us together like the retreat. And if we choose something culturally significant, it can count as one of our essay topics.”

For the end of the semester. The middle of the term is approaching. Ulquiorra blinks, thinking about how fast everything has gone. He hasn’t had a moment to breathe since he got to the Devildom.

And he was already thinking of staying. He barely knows anything about this world.

“I agree. A trip would be pleasant.”

There’s silence. He looks up.

Simeon and Solomon stare at him before Solomon chuckles. “I guess that’s settled, then.”

The next day comes quickly. He’s finished with his homework before lunchtime, and takes a shower. His pact marks are a stark black against his skin.

It seems the younger brothers’ marks are more complex. There’s nothing to compare them to, aside from Beelzebub’s looking like a frog if he squints.

Mammon’s, over his left pectoral. Leviathan’s, on his right rib cage. Beelzebub’s, on the inside of his left thigh. Asmodeus’s, on his left hip. Satan’s, on his mid-back along his spine.

They’re bound to him.

He felt those bonds sever in that moment when he died. It was like his soul was ripped apart with his body.

Ulquiorra dresses, opting for a comfortable sweater and pants. The sweater is gray-green with fleece lining; Purgatory Hall is warmer than the House of Lamentation, but the weather outside has begun to cool.

He’s received messages from the brothers, and replies to a few of them. Mammon ‘doesn’t’ miss him, but several of the messages make his concern clear. Satan is offering to tutor him on missed subjects. Asmo is reminding him to take care of his skin.

Ulquiorra feels his stomach rumble, the clock telling him that it’s time for lunch, and ventures into the common area. Before he makes it to the kitchen, there’s a knock at the door.

Who would come knocking at this hour? The residents of Purgatory Hall would just come in, right? He makes his way silently to the door, peering out the peephole to see purple hair. Leviathan.

“Uh, hey, I uh.” Levi stammers as he opens the door, face red and his hands behind his back. “I brought you…. Uh. Satan said it’s time to check your sutures.”

Ulquiorra eyes him up and down. He’s hiding something.

“Come in.” Ulquiorra leads Levi inside to Simeon’s bathroom. “Is this fine?”

“Yeah, uh, sit here.” Levi closes the toilet seat lid. Perhaps the many stools and chairs is a strange thing particular to the House of Lamentation.

He removes his sweater, folding it and leaving it on the counter. Leviathan clears his throat, his face still red, and he puts two boxes down beside it. One is the familiar first-aid kit with purple and black, and the other is a small box wrapped in orange cloth.

Levi works dutifully to inspect the sutures, his hands gloved and his face serious, and Leviathan steps back when he’s done. “We should be able to remove them in a couple days.” It takes only a second for his eyes to flick down to Ulquiorra’s chest and his face to redden. “You can put your shirt on now!” He covers his face and turns away.

It’s almost amusing.

Ulquiorra redresses, eyeing the other box on the counter. “What’s that?”

Hm. Leviathan’s face can become redder.

“It’s uh. Ah. A um.” Leviathan shuffles his feet, muttering something.

“What?”

“It’s a bento!” He yells suddenly. “Sorry. It’s a bento to replace the one from before. In the game.”

“I see.” Right, he promised Ulquiorra he’d make him a new one.

They find themselves sitting at the dining table, Ulquiorra untying the cloth. He opens the lid of the top compartment. Fried shadow bat with sauce, small vegetables shaped like bats and other devildom creatures, and blood macarons. He opens the second lid at Leviathan’s insistence.

The smell of japanese curry makes his mouth water. Three curry onigiri line the bottom, with a small canister.

“That’s Devil Crush Super Spicy Mango Juice, it goes well with fried shadow bat and curry.”

Ulquiorra picks up his chopsticks, dipping a piece of shadow bat into the sauce. He takes his time, Leviathan watching him intently. It’s a little uncomfortable. There’s something telling him that Leviathan should be eating, too.

The sauce has a mild citrus and spice to it, and he licks his lip after he finishes his bite.

He dips a couple of the vegetables in the sauce as well, not letting any emotion cross his face.

Ulquiorra sets his chopsticks down, taking a bite of the onigiri. It’s delicious, but he’s careful.

He sets it down, wiping his lip with a napkin, and lets his eyes slide over to look at Leviathan.

The demon’s eyes are fixed on him, and he waits, holding his breath. “Is it good?”

Ulquiorra allows the silence to stretch, Leviathan’s fingers picking at his nail polish. Sharp teeth pull at his lip, eyes flickering between staring at him and at the table.

“Come on!” Leviathan nearly begs after a minute. “If it’s bad, I’ll keep trying!”

He can’t remember the last time his lips curled up on their own accord, but he feels it now. Cruel mirth bubbles in his chest and a breath escapes him.

Leviathan’s head snaps up, eyes fixed on Ulquiorra’s mouth. An angry pout forms before a bewildered grin takes over. “You laughed?! You’re smiling?!” Levi points at him accusingly, covering his own smile. “You like it, don’t you! You’re just being mean.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Ulquiorra picks his chopsticks up again, eating one of the vegetable bats.

“You’re so cruel.” Leviathan chuckles. “I thought you hated it.”

“You made assumptions. I didn’t tell you I disliked it.”

He narrows his orange eyes. “Yeah, well,” he pauses. His eyes cast downward, and Ulquiorra watches the smile disappear. “I’m glad I got to give it to you.”

“You’re unhappy.”

Levi shakes his head. “No, I’m happy that you like it. I’m happy you got to have what I promised you. I don’t know how I’d feel if I didn’t get to keep my promise.” His hand still covers the bottom half of his face, shaking slightly. “I’m happy.”

Then why doesn’t he appear happy?

“I don’t believe you.”

He huffs, his eyes meeting Ulquiorra’s. They glisten. “I almost didn’t get to make you a proper bento. The whole time I was making it, that thought,” his voice cracks, “it kept haunting me. If you hadn’t come back, I would never have gotten to keep my promise.” His hand swipes the tears off his face.

A foreign feeling rises up in Ulquiorra's stomach. He should be the one wiping away the tears, comforting Levi. He quashes it, pushing it away to examine later, as well as the anger that rises from feeling it in the first place. Satan’s pact magic is still coursing through him.

“You kept it, so why be upset now?” He should be happy, if he got what he wanted. He shouldn’t be crying.

Levi groans, taking a breath. “It still hurts, knowing that I might not have given it to you, or told you. Uh.”

Ulquiorra tilts his head. “Told me what?”

Levi sinks down in his chair, eyes sparkling but no longer spilling over. “Well, uh. I guess everyone else you have a pact with feels the same way, but,” he worries his lip. “They would be more confident telling you.” He looks at Ulquiorra through his fringe. “But I’d regret not telling you if something happened. Again. So, uh.”

Leviathan takes a moment, fidgeting.

“I care about you, Ulquiorra. You’re like my best friend, my Henry. Sure, we’ve only known each other for a short time, but I… I’m glad we met. I’m glad I was able to give you the bento. I’m glad we didn’t lose you forever.”

He sniffles.

There’s an emotion lingering like smoke in Ulquiorra’s soul.

Leviathan cares about him. He’d have regrets if he never saw Ulquiorra again. He was upset when Ulquiorra died, and he’s still upset now, even though Ulquiorra is alive.

Has anyone mourned him before?

If they did, would he remember them? All of his deaths have been a distant memory, chains to shackle him and prevent him from moving on as a soul. Did Orihime mourn him, or was she relieved when he died? Was her humanity the only reason she reached for him in his final moments? Was that why they couldn’t touch? Her hand could never reach him. Her heart was not hurt for him.

Kurosaki? All he had was regret. Not for killing Ulquiorra, but because it wasn’t him that did it.

And Aizen was the one who promised him his doom.

These demons, they care about him. They mourned him, and still are hurt. Would he find that again, in any of his lives? If he became more human, would he be loved by other humans? Would Orihime and Kurosaki become his friends, if he fought next to them instead of against them?

Levi helps him finish the bento, per his request.

They steal glances at each other. Ulquiorra feels a pain in his chest.

“I am grateful for this time with you. You and your brothers, the ones I have pacts with, have changed me.” Perhaps for the better. “Thank you for lunch.”

Levi nods, face tinged pink but serious. “I’ll make another for you soon.”

“Why?” Ulquiorra tilts his head. “You only promised me one.”

“Well, you liked it, didn’t you?”

“You’ll make them just because I like them?”

“Of course,” Leviathan smiles. It causes a similar twisting feeling like he gets when Beelzebub frowns. He can’t tell if it’s unpleasant. “Could I bring one for you tomorrow?”

Ulquiorra eyes him for a moment, thinking. “Perhaps bring your own as well.”

He snorts. “Yeah, you don’t like to share, huh?” Levi stands, packing up the box. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then. Bye, Ulq!”

Damn. He borrowed Mammon’s nickname for him. He sighs, nodding to Levi before he shuts the door.

The rest of the afternoon passes slowly, until the residents of Purgatory Hall get home. They bring him his homework, Simeon and Solomon explain what was talked about in class, and they give him Satan’s notes for Devildom Languages.

By the time he’s finished, Luke is already in the kitchen. Last night’s dinner was delicious, and dessert was even better.

Simeon smiles at him, putting away his own books. “Luke mentioned wanting to make roasted roc and rice for dinner tonight. Could you help him in the kitchen again? Some of the pans are heavy. Solomon and I are on cleaning duty again tonight.”

Ulquiorra nods, and Simeon follows Solomon down the hall.

He turns to the kitchen, hearing Luke hum happily inside.

Before he reaches the doorway, he hears a yelp. Luke holds his hand, a pained look on his face. “Ow.”

Ulquiorra crosses the kitchen; the stove is on, a pan simmering. “Are you injured?”

Luke looks up, eyes filled with tears. “I’ll be okay, I just touched the edge of the pan by accident when I put the giblets in.” He’s still holding his hand, not looking at it.

Must everyone cry in front of him today? He suppresses a tisk. His hand takes Luke’s, assessing the raised, pink skin on the side up to his pinky finger. It’s a light burn that has begun to blister but likely won’t scar. He glances at Luke, whose lip quivers. It would still be painful to someone with soft skin.

“Is there anything time sensitive to attend to?”

Luke sniffs. “No. The roc is in the oven already. The rice and asparagus won’t take very long, and the giblets are simmering.”

Ulquiorra releases the boy’s hand, guiding him to the sink and turning on the cool water. “Hold your hand here until I return. Is there a medical kit here?”

“There’s one under my sink.”

Ulquiorra fetches it, and returns to Luke. His face isn’t as pained. “The water helps.”

“Indeed.” He sets the box on the counter. “Keep it there for a time.” He looks through the box. He hasn’t had to use most of these things for another person, but he’s seen others use them. He’ll do better than Mammon, at least.

He pulls out a burn cream and dressings. Luke lets him dry the area off, patting it carefully. He applies the cream, then dresses his hand somewhat loosely.

“That should keep it from coming in contact with anything and soothe the burn.”

“Thank you, Ulquiorra.” He hasn’t quite mastered the ‘RR’ yet. He smiles. “It feels better already!”

Ulquiorra lets him prepare the asparagus and begin the rice. Luke instructs him to watch and stir the things boiling on the stove.

They seem to work well together when it comes to cooking. Ulquiorra notes that he doesn’t mind Luke giving him instructions. At times he’s somewhat haughty, but Ulquiorra feels it’s due. The boy knows what he’s doing, and he explains why certain things are necessary as they cook.

By the time they finish eating, the attention on Luke’s burn fades in favor of a movie.

The movies are different from the ones the brothers watched on Mammon’s birthday. They are mostly drawn, and have less in-depth themes, but are still somewhat entertaining at times.

Luke insisted on sitting next to him. Simeon is on Ulquiorra’s other side, and Solomon sits beside the older angel. They all squeeze on the common area’s couch.

In the middle of the second movie, he feels Luke shift. Luke yawns, settling further against Ulquiorra. By the end, his arms are wrapped around one of Ulquiorra’s and his head rests on his shoulder. His eyes flutter open for a few moments, but keep closing until his breathing evens out.

Solomon stifles a laugh as he stands to stop the movie when it ends. “Cute,” he whispers, and Simeon peers around Ulquiorra to look, cooing quietly.

Ulquiorra doesn’t move. He’d like to dislodge himself, but Luke might wake up. He glances at the others.

They put in the next movie, ignoring his predicament.

After another movie, they help him remove the little angel. Simeon has to wake him gently, and Luke grabs Ulquiorra’s hand, squeezing and burying his face in Ulquiorra’s shoulder. Ulquiorra feels his chest twist at the sight of Luke’s hand in his. There’s a choked feeling where his hollow hole should be.

They pry him off, Simeon takes him to bed, and Solomon stretches.

“So, Ulqui.” He ruffles his white hair, sending him a smirk. “What's it like, being Luke’s newest weird uncle?”

“I don’t understand.” Ulquiorra sighs.

“Simeon saw you wrapping his hand. Apparently you’re quite the caregiver.” The grin on Solomon’s pale face sends irritation down Ulquiorra’s spine, but Simeon returns before he can respond.

“It was quite adorable, I think.” Simeon smiles. “You two get along well.”

Ulquiorra stands. “It’s time for me to rest.” He hears their snickers as he leaves.

His hand is warm.

The next day passes. Leviathan brings him lunch and they talk about the brothers and how things are going in the House of Lamentation. It’s been quiet since he left, aside from some of their typical arguments. Belphegor has been trying to talk more to his brothers, and they’ve Mammon, Asmo, and Levi talked about what happened to Lilith. . Levi said that it hurt, but it was festering for so long that it was good to talk about it, and to hear the truth from Lucifer.

That evening before dinner, he does homework with Solomon while the angels cook.

The angels move to Simeon's room after they eat, and Ulquiorra follows. “Oh, Ulquiorra.” Simeon smiles, sitting on the bed after he grabs a small black bag. “Feel free to step out for a bit if we disturb you. We need to preen.”

It’s not something he had considered. Angels must also have a less human form, like demons.

Luke sits beside Simeon. “Can Ulquiorra help? Or will it scare him?”

“Hmm, that’s up to him. He’s seen the demon forms of the brothers, but we must still allow him to leave if he is overwhelmed.” Simeon unzips the bag, pulling out a set of two-prong combs. “It’s also a lot of work.”

Ulquiorra steps forward. It could be intriguing to see an angel’s wings. “I will assist if I can.”

“Yay!” Luke wiggles. Simeon grabs a sheet, and they lay it across the bed. Simeon and Ulquiorra sit on opposite sides behind Luke on the bed.

Simeon glances at Ulquiorra. “There will be an instinctual fear, but it should pass. Close your eyes until I tell you to open them.”

Ulquiorra nods, closing his eyes. A foreboding sense of danger washes over him, but he reminds himself that it’s only the little angel. When Simeon tells him he can look, he squints at the bright ring of light. Luke turns his head, blue eyes bright and hypnotic with a yellow shine. The halo and eyes refract, making it look like he has multiple filling Ulquiorra’s vision. He blinks, and Simeon touches his shoulder.

“Focus on his wings. Here.” He hands him a comb.

Ulquiorra fixes his eyes on the brilliant white feathers. Simeon shows him the best way to hold the strange comb, and how to glide it through the feathers.

He focuses, dutifully interlocking the feathers after he removes any keratin or debris. Luke preens the inside of his wings where he can comfortably reach.

When they finish the little angel’s wings, Simeon trades places with Luke. Luke’s form changes while Ulquiorra closes his eyes– the transformation is somewhat disturbing, they claim– and when he opens them, Simeon’s wings are stretched before them. Instead of one ring of light, multiple cast the room in their brightness, wrapping around the angel’s form. It takes his breath away.

Perhaps Simeon just has that effect on him. Luke’s clothing had parted near the joint to allow his wings through, covering where it joined with his back. Simeon’s is more revealing, much like his everyday clothes. It bares a portion of his back and hips, the light bouncing off his skin.

A month ago, he’d never admit it to himself, but there’s something appealing about Simeon. To the point that he finds his mind blank when the angel talks to him. Asmodeus would perhaps call it a crush, but it’s something best ignored. He combs through the feathers, removing the ones that are molting and taking off the keratin sheathes of the new ones. Luke hums beside him.

It only takes about an hour to finish all the preening, and the angels insist on brushing his hair to return the favor. It’s inane, but feels nice enough that he doesn’t complain.

Luke retires to bed, and Simeon brings a pot of tea for the two of them, wings and halo gone. He pours them both a cup, letting Ulquiorra grab the one he wants.

“You did very well for your first time preening. Do you have pet birds?” Simeon adds more sugar to his.

“No.” He hesitates. He really shouldn’t disclose to anyone else what he is, but Simeon looks at him with patience. Simeon’s smile is genuine. Maybe he just wants all of them to know. “I used to have wings.”

The angel blinks, confusion crossing his face. “Hm?”

Ulquiorra sighs. “I’m an Arrancar, or at least I was. My wings were not feathered, but rather had thick fur. If I did not care for them, it would have become tangled and hindered my flight.”

“Really, an Arrancar?” Simeon’s eyes are wide; not with worry or concern, but curiosity. “I thought you were human.”

“It has been quite irksome.” Ulquiorra sips his tea. He watched Simeon prepare it. “I am made to believe that Barbatos had something to do with it, but I am not certain.”

“Who else knows about this?”

“I’ve told Satan. And Belphegor.” Perhaps he should have told the others whose confidence he holds, but telling any of them ran the risk of Lucifer finding out.

“Really? Belphegor?” Simeon tilts his head.

“He visited my dreams before he was released.”

“I see.” Simeon leans back in his chair. “Hm. Not to change the topic, but how are you feeling in regards to what happened? Your death?”

“I have had many deaths. I am not unacquainted.”

“Be that as it may,” Simeon smiles, but it’s strained. That concern shows itself in the crease of his eyes. “You still died. You experienced your own death. That can’t leave you unaffected.”

He can’t take his eyes off of Simeon, but he doesn’t even see him as he thinks.

“I have died and will continue to die for the rest of my existence. It is a simple truth. What use is there to feel anything regarding it?” Sure, the others feel something about his death, but why must he?

“Ulquiorra,” Simeon’s concern twists into something far too much like pity. “You’re allowed to be upset.”

His hand clenches against the teacup. “I feel nothing.”

Simeon’s finger taps against the floral porcelain. “You’re angry.”

“No,” Ulquiorra clicks his tongue. He feels Satan’s pact heat along his spine. “I made a pact with Satan.”

“Which amplifies your anger. It doesn’t create it.”

He sets the teacup down before it cracks. “That is none of your concern.”

“But it is.”

“Why?”

Simeon finishes his tea. “It’s an angel’s duty to care for those around them. And even if it weren’t, one capable of love is destined to feel it. I am concerned because I care about you.”

“I understand others’ care, but love?” Ulquiorra looks at his half-drank tea. “I don’t feel that either.”

“I think you understand it more than you think.” Simeon stands, stretching. “We can talk again some other time. I have classes tomorrow.” He smiles again at Ulquiorra.

Love. Care. The heart. What must he do to be rid of these notions? What must he endure to reach for them? Will he ever be able to touch them? See them? Keep them for himself?

He sleeps.

He has no dreams to occupy his rest. Belphegor does not visit, nor does the desert night of Hueco Mundo.

A buzzing wakes him.

It’s the next night, and most of the students only have Study Hall tomorrow, but he furrows his brow. The time on his DDD reads 3:33am. Mammon’s profile picture flashes on the screen. The demon set it not long after they made a pact, a picture of him rolling in grimm, little golden coins with skulls on them.

Ulquiorra presses the answer button, leaving the room so that he doesn’t disturb Simeon.

“Hey Ulq, uh. Sorry if I woke you.” Mammon’s voice is muffled through the device. “I just wanted to see if you needed…. Ugh, forget it. I want to make sure you’re alright.”

“Is my answering not proof?”

“Hmm, maybe if you talk a little more. I want to hear your voice.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“I dunno, maybe “The Great Mammon, you’re so awesome and cool.””

Ulquiorra rolls his eyes. “Unlikely.”

“Damn,” he can hear the smile in Mammon’s voice. “How has Purgatory Hall been treating you? You been eating?”

“I have. It’s peaceful here.” He walks through, sitting on the common area couch.

There’s a pause. “Peaceful, huh? Can’t get that at the House of Lamentation.”

“Indeed. It’s nearly too quiet.” On more than one occasion during the week, it’s been eerie; all alone in an unfamiliar dorm.

“I guess it would be strange after living with my noisy brothers for so long.”

“It’s quiet without you,” he digs at Mammon.

“Yeah? Well just wait until you come back. I’ll talk your ear off, you just wait, Ulq.”

“I grow tired of your nicknames.”

“Ya sure? You haven’t gut punched me for it yet. Ain’t got no evidence of you hating it.” Mammon snorts. “You miss me, admit it.”

“I will not.”

Their banter subsides. “Hey, Ulquiorra?”

“Yes, Mammon?”

“I miss you, you know. It’s lonely without you. Come home?”

“Soon.”

“How soon? Can I see you?”

Ulquiorra sighs. “I don’t know.”

He catches movement out of the corner of his eye. Through the window, he sees the back of someone's head. Someone with white hair, a DDD up to their ear, sitting on the porch chair. Mammon keeps talking, and he makes his way over to confirm.

Ulquiorra hangs up in favor of opening the front door. “Why are you here, Mammon?”

Mammon stumbles to his feet. “Ulq! I… It’s good to see you.” He bites his lip. His hair is disheveled, eyelids drooping, and he shivers in the night air. “I missed you.”

Ulquiorra sighs. “Come in, Mammon.”

Masterlist/ Chapter 16: Sunny Days Aren't So Bad