「悪魔の母親」

Rin began combing the tuft of his tail with his fingers, taking comfort in the soothing, repetitive motions. “I know,” he said halfheartedly; it took a few moments for him to meet his mother’s eyes. He was fully aware of how different he was, and that comparing himself to others did absolutely nothing. “But… I wish I was a little less different from everybody sometimes,” Rin admitted. “Just a little.”

Situations like this made it clear how little those outside his circle of family and friends understood him. It was rare for Rin to meet the expectations of others, positive or negative; he wasn’t the violent beast many assumed he was, but he didn’t act like a regular human teenager, either. The thought of eventually meeting others in a similar situation to his own, though, made him feel a small flutter of hope.

–

“His good intentions sealed that wound shut,” Yukio said, green eyes darting to where Mikoto clutched at her side. His voice was quieter as well. “The only reason you’re still here to complain about my brother’s cowardice and incompetence is that he pushed himself to the very limits of his self-control, despite how terrified he must have been.” By virtue of having them his entire life, Rin often made controlling the blue flames look much easier than it actually was; Yukio wondered if Mikoto was fully aware of how easy it would have been for Rin to slip in either direction. 

The boy sighed and adjusted his glasses. “I should know better than to try to defend Nii-san to someone who doesn’t want to hear it,” he muttered, mostly to himself. He knew this was an exercise in futility, but he felt the need to stand up for Rin regardless.

Yuri could tell Rin didn’t really believe her, or if he did, he did so very reluctantly. As he spoke, she drew him back into her arms, making that soft, humming sound she’d always made when Rin was little; her human equivalent of purring, which she could not do like her son. “I know,” she whispered. “I know, sweetheart.”

“Wouldn’t that be nice? I think it would be wonderful.”

The arguing stopped, and some of the tension left Rin’s shoulders. The last thing he wanted was for his younger brother to get into a fight with Mikoto, but… Rin would be lying if he said he wasn’t relieved to have Yukio sticking up for him. Yukio was much braver in social situations than Rin was, mostly because he didn’t care what others thought the way Rin did.

“Most demons wouldn’t need it. Not full ones, anyway,” Rin said quietly. Demons simply weren’t bothered by the kinds of things humans and half-demons were, particularly if they were raised in Gehenna. “…Are there really more demons? And part-demons?” He knew that as a rule of thumb, most Tamers had demonic blood, but it was usually so distant that they were essentially full humans. With the exception of Samael, he had yet to meet anyone with particularly strong or recent demonic heritage.

–

“Egin Yukio,” he said, straightening his posture and drawing himself up to his full height. He typically spoke much more politely, especially to an adult— but he was also furious, and the first thing to fly out the window was his manners. Yukio would be polite once Mikoto gained his actual respect.

He shot the Arc Knight a withering glare, and was glad to see Father Fujimoto doing the same. “Nii-san wasn’t born afraid. Humans like you made him that way,” he said coldly. Yukio still remembered what his brother had been like when they were small children; he remembered how his brother had gone from bright and exuberant to shy and timid, almost overnight. “Would you prefer he turned out angry and violent? That he chose to hate humans instead of wanting their acceptance?” Considering everything he’d been through and who their father was, Rin’s gentle, forgiving nature was nothing short of a miracle.

Yuri sighed, leaning back a little to cup Rin’s cheek in her palm. “Rin, you need to stop comparing yourself to others,” she chided gently. “Demons and humans both. You are your own person. You take things in your own pace, and you need different things than anyone else. Everyone is different, so there really is no point wondering if these differences make you more or less than others; it is neither.”

She fell silent for a moment, listening if she could hear any more sounds of the previous argument. She couldn’t make out any, but she knew that didn’t mean Rin couldn’t either. For his sake – and for theirs, because she would surely give them a piece of her own mind eventually – she hoped they’d stopped for good.

“… For humans,” Rin mumbled. There weren’t many regular doctors that were comfortable with treating Rin because of what he was, and he doubted this would be any different. Mentally, he was closer to a human than a demon— but his appearance wasn’t, and that was what mattered. Most of his problems were due to his demonic heritage, anyways. How could a human stranger understand that enough to help him?

His thoughts were interrupted by the distant sound of a pained yell, just soft enough that only Rin could hear it. He winced as the scream was replaced by the sound of arguing, ears pressing back against the sides of his head as he burrowed further into Yuri’s arms.

He’ll never make it!

Both be dead— 

Pet project—

The blood drained from Rin’s face once again, leaving him pale and trembling like a leaf. Blood boiling, Yukio extracted his arm from Rin’s tail and stood up. “I’ll do it,” he said, leaving before either Rin or Yuri could protest.

Yukio stormed into the infirmary, visibly seething. Despite his age, he managed to strike an intimidating figure; he hadn’t inherited his mother’s short stature, but he’d definitely inherited the glare that could stop grown men in their tracks. Rin was quite clearly the least intimidating member of their family, despite the power he wielded. “What, was subjecting Nii-san to that mission not enough? You may not know anything about my brother, Mikoto-san, but as an Exorcist you should know enough to understand that he can hear you,” he snarled, fists clenched at his sides.

Yuri sighed, tightening her hold on Rin as he burrowed into her arms. “Don’t listen to them,” she murmured, rubbing her palm down Rin’s back. “Just focus on me. You’ll be all right. It all will be.” She wished, a little bit, that she had stopped Yukio from leaving. She didn’t like the idea of him getting into a confrontation with either Shirou or his sister. At the same time, she had to realize that, after herself, Yukio was likely the next best person to have this conversation with them. Yuri was aware of how many of her mannerisms he’d inherited, and while outwardly she was disapproving when he got into altercations, there was a small part of her that was a little bit proud.

Rin leaned into his mother’s touch once again, purring in the same off-kilter way he always did when upset and trying to soothe himself. Yukio felt his twin’s flames lick at his skin, desperate for comfort; nobody seemed to realize except for Yukio himself, but Rin’s flames were just as expressive as he was. As long as one knew what to look for, that is. Yukio responded with a quiet hum, running a thumb over the tuft of Rin’s tail. What happened to his brother left him seething, but he knew that the best thing he could do right now was help Rin calm down. 

“I get them as well,” Yukio admitted. They were different and much less frequent than Rin’s own, and they only ever occurred while he was asleep, but he still got them. 

The end of Rin’s tail wrapped around Yukio’s hand as if gripping it. “…Does it ever go away? Or get better?” If Rin never felt this way again, it would be too soon; there was no part of this feeling that he didn’t hate. A small part of him wished his demon half made him as emotionless as many assumed it did. Full demons never struggled with this sort of thing— it wasn’t in their nature to feel remorse, or much of anything aside from anger and desire.

Then again… just like his mother said, he’d be a heartless person if this didn’t affect him. Perhaps it was for the best that he felt this pain, even though it hurt immensely.

“It can,” Yuri said, her voice soft, but thoughtful. “Some of it will fade on its own, but it will never truly go away.” She paused, thinking of how to phrase it. “There are people whose job is to help with things like this. Healers, but for the mind and soul, not the body.” She made no suggestion. Truthfully, it was difficult to imagine Rin trusting anyone but his family, at least yet. If one day he arrived at the conclusion that he wanted such help, she’d make sure they found the right person. For now, all she had was her own comfort to offer.

Yuri’s fingers didn’t stop their gentle, caressing motion of Rin’s hair, not for a moment. When Rin leaned against her, she pressed a kiss to his cheek. She knew they just had to wait this out; the phrase that things got better with time was true both long- and short-term. There was no point in telling Rin not to cry; he needed to get the shock and the upset out first. For a while, she was silent, mulling over everything Rin had told them. Occasionally, her hand wandered into Yukio’s hair for a few moments at a time, making sure he knew how grateful his mother was for his company.

In the end, her boys were Yuri’s whole world; in moments like this, she felt this more intensely than ever. And whatever the heartache and pain, she couldn’t help but be glad that both her children were here with her, safe and sound.

A sharp noise somewhere in the distance jolted her out of her thoughts some time later; something like the slamming of a door, followed by a pair of raised voices. She couldn’t make out what they were saying, but she recognized them as Shirou’s deep tone and Mikoto’s sharp, hoarse one, yelling at each other. She tightened her grip on Rin a little bit.

The boy gave a small nod; his mother had described what he’d felt almost perfectly. “…It’s not just me?” It’d felt like such a uniquely terrible experience, one that nobody else would understand if he tried to explain. To hear that it was common enough that his mother knew exactly what he’d felt without him having to say it was a relief.

“It happens to plenty of people,” Yukio added. “Exorcists, especially. Right, Mother?” Yukio didn’t exactly have mental health statistics on hand, but soldiers often experienced similar symptoms— and the only difference between an exorcist and a soldier was the species of those they killed.

“I-I never want it to happen again,” Rin said, tail slipping out from underneath his shirt to wrap around his leg. 

When his mother asked if he had burnt Mikoto because of the memories, he shook his head so quickly the room blurred, feeling sick. “A zombie hurt her, a-and… there was so much blood,” he said quietly, looking deathly pale. Rin’s eyes were looking down at the floor, but he seemed to be looking right through it. “Sh-She said that I— I had to burn it shut, or she’d…”

Yukio’s eyes widened; he knew his brother’s control of his flames was impressive, but this went above and beyond what anyone could have expected him him. Nobody would have blamed Rin if he lost control during his flashback, or if he’d been unable to cauterize the wound, or even if he’d lost control while trying to burn the wound shut. “Nii-san, I’m proud of you.”

Rin blinked and turned towards Yukio, sure that his twin had lost his mind. “I r-ruined the mission. I nearly got Mikoto killed!”

“You saved Mikoto after going through something terrible,” Yukio said, hand moving to grip Rin’s shoulder. “Most people wouldn’t have been able to do what you did! Maintaining control through all of that shows an incredible amount of mental forti— mental strength,” he amended.

“Strong people c-can beat zombies without freaking out! Strong people can go through train stations without panicking! I’m not strong!” Rin snapped, tears streaming down his face. The looks of pity Mikoto had given him flashed into his mind, unbidden. 

Yuri nodded at Rin’s question, and then again at Yukio’s, but otherwise, she didn’t speak for a while, watching her children talk. All the while, she did not let go of Rin, though her embrace loosened a little when he turned to face Yukio. She couldn’t help but agree with her youngest son; what Rin had done was nothing short of amazing.

Yuri could only hope Mikoto would see it the same way, because it seemed Rin was not going to take this truth from anyone else. Unfortunately, knowing the Arc Knight, this was very unlikely. So instead, Yuri drew her son back into her arms, sifting her fingers through his hair to help him calm down. She did not miss the part about him panicking at the train station, and her heart ached with it – this whole thing had been torture for him from beginning to end, hadn’t it?

“The only way,” she said softly, “that you could become stronger in that sense is if you didn’t have feelings, Rin. If you were heartless,” one of her palms settled over his chest, “then it wouldn’t affect you. What we’ve been through, and especially you, it would give anyone nightmares.” She paused for a moment, before adding, “I have them, too.”

Of course, not to this extent, and a lot of what she had nightmares about were old events, from before the boys were born – but they’ve resurfaced somewhat after the events in the forest, and then more so after her time in the demon prison; while she was relatively sure she would be fine on any mission, she couldn’t really know until she tried, right?

The moment his mother and brother entered the room, Yukio could tell something had gone terribly wrong; he could see in Rin’s eyes. He’d had a bad feeling about his older brother’s first mission from the start, and he hated that his instincts had apparently been right. Yukio sat down next to his brother, rubbing his back and sharing a concerned look with their mother.

With both his mother and brother close, Rin felt a little calmer and more grounded. His family was safe and with him, nobody was going to hurt them or take them away ever again… His tears continued to fall, but his breathing steadied.

“M-Mikoto got hurt because of me,” he said quietly, leaning even further into his mother’s embrace. “The zombies, they… I didn’t expect them to… I-I burned them, and they screamed, a-and…” A shudder ran through his whole body; just the thought of it was enough to make his heart start to race again. 

Yukio’s blood ran cold when he saw his brother’s expression; the hand not rubbing his back curled into a fist at his side. “They should have never sent you on that kind of mission in the first place,” he said through grit teeth. Was this someone’s idea of a sick joke?

“I-I should have been able to handle it,” Rin said, sniffling. By all standards, it should have been easy; 12 zombies was nothing, especially when up against Satan’s flames. Instead, he hadn’t even been able to travel to the mission location without panicking. What kind of useless Exorcist would he be if he couldn’t handle things like this?

Yuri felt her blood curdle as Rin began describing the events of the mission. Screaming zombies… no wonder Rin was reminded of last time, the time they’d had to flee their home. Yuri trembled a little thinking about it, too, and she wasn’t the one who’d just had to relive the experience. She tightened her hold on Rin, pressing her lips into his hair over his forehead.

“It’s okay,” she murmured. “This is not your fault.” She was glad Yukio was here too; together, they could cocoon Rin in the warmth of their little but tight family. “Bad memories, really bad ones, they do this to people sometimes,” she explained, her voice still low. “It’s like a nightmare – you can’t control it, but you’re still awake.”

She wholeheartedly agreed with Yukio that Rin never should have gone on this mission. She felt angry, though she didn’t know who to direct that anger at – Mikoto was a hard person, but she was not needlessly cruel, even if she disliked demons. And Shirou… he’d never hurt Rin.

Rin shook his head to reassure his mother that he was wasn’t hurt— and then promptly burst into tears. He’d been good about remaining relatively stoic until now, but that had mostly been out of necessity. He hadn’t wanted Mikoto to think even less of him than she already did, and after the mission went south, he’d gone into survival mode. The numb, distant feeling faded away, leaving him with the full brunt of his emotions.

“Ma,” he whimpered, reaching out for her. Somewhere, it was a little humiliating how childish he was acting, but Rin was too upset to care. He didn’t fully understand why, but he felt almost exactly the way he had when they’d first left the forest; all of the fear, shame, and guilt he’d felt back then was hitting him once again with full force, on top of what he was already feeling about being the cause of this disaster. “M-My fault, I…” 

…What had he done, exactly? Even Rin found his actions unexplainable. He’d burned those zombies, and it was almost like some switch had been flipped in his mind. Why? What was wrong with him?

Oh, no. Yuri had been afraid it was too soon for Rin to go on a mission, but she’d hoped she would be wrong. She rushed forward, wrapping his son into his arms and blinking at Shirou over his head, hoping the Paladin would have an explanation for her that Rin couldn’t seem to give at the moment. Unfortunately, Shirou didn’t know much more than Yuri did – and he was too anxious to see to his sister to stay.

When the priest was gone, Yuri returned her full attention to Rin with a small sigh, sifting her fingers through his hair to help him calm down a little. After a few moments, she pulled away, the motion gentle but firm, taking one of his hands instead. “Come on, sweetheart, let’s not stand in the middle of the corridor.”

She led him back the way she’d come, to the boys’ room where she had been helping Yukio with homework before the ruckus of Kuro’s arrival. Knowing her other son would join them in a moment, she sat on the bottom bunk of the bed, pulling Rin down with herself and wrapping her arms right back around him where they’d been.

Rin stared up at his mother for a few moments with wide eyes, as if unsure of whether he was dreaming or not. It was still hard for him to believe his family was actually together again, and that his mother didn’t hate him anymore. Finally, he nodded, the movement visible in the darkness as his flame horns bobbed up and down. He began to move closer to Yukio to make more space, but the younger twin reached out and placed a large palm against Rin’s chest.

“Let Ma be between both of her sons, Nii-san.” Yukio spoke as if the idea was for his mother’s benefit only, but it was obvious he’d missed his mother as well. Rin, feeling a little embarrassed that his only thought had been for how much he wanted to be next to both his mother and brother, conceded.

Once they were all on the bed, things quickly got cramped; the bottom bunk was larger than the top, but still wasn’t built for 2 teenagers and an adult. Yukio laid on his side with his back pressed against the wall, struggling to find a place for his long legs. On the other side of the bed, Rin was on his side as well, but was in no danger of falling off the bed. He reached out and wrapped his tail around his brother’s ankle, wanting to maintain at least a bit of physical contact… and getting himself a little bit tangled in the process, but Rin didn’t mind.

“I remember this being a lot less… crowded,” Yukio commented wryly, causing Rin to snort.

“You weren’t nearly two meters tall when we were kids,” Rin replied. “Just your legs take up half the bed!”

Yuri didn’t hesitate to settle in between her children, opening her arms so both of them could curl against her side, and she could wrap her arms around their shoulders. Well, she more or less managed with Rin’s, but with how broad Yukio’s shoulders were, it was an impossible task, and she ended up just curling her fingers into his hair. “I don’t think I have grown since, do you?” she joked. With Yukio’s head against her shoulder, her feet had to be somewhere at his knees. Jeez.

It didn’t take long for it to feel more cozy than cramped, though. She pulled both of them tight to her side, letting out a content sigh. It had been so long since all three of them were together in peace. The last time had been back at the cabin, which seemed a lifetime ago. And it was absolutely, utterly futile thinking about the cabin now.

“This is home,” she murmured, turning to press her lips to Rin’s cheek and then to Yukio’s forehead. “Where you two are, for me, the place doesn’t matter.”

She wondered whether to say anything else. Would they believe her, after everything? These days, especially Rin was very quick to question himself. But, for some strange reason, things tended to feel different at night. Scarier, sometimes, but not always. Right here, in this growing cocoon of warmth and love, she could believe her own words, so perhaps her sons might listen, too.

“We are going to be all right, you know,” she said softly.

Maybe precisely because it was nighttime. Darkness brought irrational feelings, a skewed sight of the world of tomorrow. Maybe tomorrow they would think back to this moment and scoff. Yuri didn’t mind – if they believed her right now, it would plant a seed, and then it could grow, bring fruition in the moment it is most needed.

@forestwitchmother

“Yuki?” Rin said in a small voice, standing next to the bottom bunk bed and fidgeting. His twin probably knew exactly what he was going to ask; there was no way he hadn’t heard Rin tossing and turning on the bunk above him for the past hour, wishing for sleep and dreading it at the same time. Rin’d had a long, emotionally fraught day, and he knew that meant he’d be facing nightmares the second he closed his eyes. “I can’t sleep, can I…?”

Yukio gave a drowsy grunt and rolled over, giving his twin plenty of space to clamber onto the bed. Rin felt childish and embarrassed, but he laid down next to Yukio anyways; sharing a bed like they had when they were little was the only thing they’d found that lessened Rin’s nightmares.

When they were little, it had usually been Yukio clambering into Rin’s bed after a nightmare, the half-demon thought to himself as he stared up at the slats of the empty bunk above. Rin had felt so proud of being a big brother back then. He’d been young and foolish enough to feel like he could protect his family from anything and everything. Now… Rin wasn’t capable of protecting himself, let alone anyone else. He wasn’t even the big brother anymore, not really; Rin only reached Yukio’s shoulders on a good day, and Rin was the one being helped and protected by his brother most of the time these days. 

He’d thought of himself as his family’s protector for as long as he could remember. He didn’t know what to think of himself anymore.

They were never going back to that life.

The sensation didn’t last very long, however. Perhaps prison had done this to Yuri, creating a reflex that stomped down on any emotion too powerful before it could overtake her? Or perhaps, and Yuri thought this more likely, it was simply that she had hardened to a point where she simply refused to give herself any more grief, knowing the world would make up for that anyway.

Either way, after a moment, she stepped closer, and smiled down at her sons. No matter where they were, it was a universal truth that the only way was ahead. If they were still at the cabin in the woods, she would still have moments wishing her sons were still little boys. And even if they weren’t – even if their lives were forever changed now, she would fight tooth and nail to find the beauty in it.

The fake smile was quickly replaced with a genuinely horrified expression as Rin realized that he’d misinterpreted the situation and made a big mistake. Again. He’d made the decision to lie in a split second, and it only took him a few extra moments of thought afterwards to realize it was probably the worst possible thing he could have done.

Pretending to be fine with Suguro had worked solely because Suguro didn’t know him well and didn’t care all that much about if Rin was upset. This was his mother, for Satan’s sake! Of course she was able to tell he was lying, and of course she cared about him. What the Hell had he been thinking?

You weren’t thinking, he thought angrily, resisting the urge to smack himself upside the head. You stupid, worthless, idiot freak. All you’re good for is destroying things and hurting people.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he said softly, with sad, tired eyes. “I just… wasn’t thinking, I guess, and I thought that maybe if I made everything seem okay then it really would be okay and I wouldn’t have to feel like this anymore.” He didn’t know what ‘this’ was, exactly, except that it was ugly and dark and ached deep in his chest. He folded his arms across his chest, clutching his own arms; he wanted desperately to hug his mother, but he didn’t know if that would make things better or worse.

Tears began to drip down his face as Rin sniffled and rubbed at his eyes. “The whole time you were in there, I jus’ wanted you back,” he said. “Even when you were yelling at me an’ calling me all sorts of stuff, all I wanted was for you to come back and for everything to be normal again. But now I know nothing can be normal ever again and it’s all my fault and I just keep making it worse,” Rin sobbed. “I-I don’t know how to fix this! I don’t know how to fix anything, not even me!”

Yuri looked up at Rin when he began to speak, her expression softening once again. She wiped the back of her palm against her eyes, taking in a deep, shuddering breath. How to fix this, indeed. Maybe now it would be a little easier -- she hated seeing Rin cry, but she did feel relief that he was being genuine with her again. They could not turn back the time, but that didn’t mean the future held nothing beautiful in it.

With more courage than previously, she stepped closer to her son and wrapped her arms around him, pulling him to her chest. God, she’d wanted to do this for so long. “How many times,” she whispered, but there was a definite tinge of humour in her voice, “must I tell you that you don’t need to fix everything on your own?”

For a few long moments, they just stood there, and while Yuri waited for Rin to hug her back, she trailed her fingers into his hair at the back of his head like she’d always done, and then murmured in a low voice, “I love you. I’m so sorry I made you believe otherwise. I love you.”

Rin tensed up when he felt his mother’s hands take his own, unsure of what was happening and very uncomfortable. His skittishness towards being touched had started back when the villagers had beaten him to a pulp, and had only worsened since then; he fought the urge to pull away, trying to focus on the comfort physical contact brought instead of the anxiety.

It was hard to focus on comfort, though, when he was being reminded of one of his worst mistakes. Rin didn’t even try to justify his actions, instead choosing to listen quietly as his head sank lower and lower and his stoic expression gave way to one of guilt and regret. She was being nicer about this than she had been while imprisoned, which was somehow making him feel even worse than he had then. He thought he knew what was coming next— reasons why she was still angry at him, perhaps, or how he was just like his father —but instead his mother squeezed his hands tightly and told him she wasn’t angry, and that she loved him. Even in that horrific prison, she had still loved him deep down.

Part of him immediately accepted everything she said at face value, and wanted nothing more than to rush into his mother’s arms; another part of him found it all too good to be true. He wasn’t dreaming… maybe someone put her up to this? But he couldn’t think of any reasons why someone would force his mother to apologize to him, and it was even more difficult to think of how someone could get his mother to do anything against her will.

So she really, actually wanted to reconcile with him. “Why?” Rin asked aloud, finally lifting his head to get a good look at his mother’s expression. Maybe she was just apologizing because she felt bad about hurting him. It was the same as Suguro’s apology, Rin thought; Suguro had apologized to Rin for hurting him because he felt bad, but the other boy still wanted nothing to do with him. 

It was exactly the same as that, so Rin did what he’d done for Suguro; he pushed all of his hurt and anger down where they couldn’t hurt anyone but himself and acted like everything was fine now. 

He was too nice. Even Shiemi thought so.

“It’s okay, I’m not hurt anymore,” he lied, punctuating his claim with a grin that didn’t reach his eyes. “I understand why you said what you did and why you were mad and I deserved it so I’m not mad or hurt anymore. So everything is okay now.” Another smile, just in case.

It felt like a knife was twisted into the woman’s heart. Had it really been so long since they were happy… that they didn’t even know each other anymore? Was this how it was going to be from now on -- polite strangers, rather than mother and son? The thought was honestly horrifying; so much so that it was her, in the end, who let go of Rin’s hands, raising hers instead to press them both against her mouth, as if to push back the sound that threatened to escape her throat and was now choking her.

Did Rin forget she could tell when he was lying -- or was he honestly telling the truth? She wasn’t sure which was worse -- the latter meant that Rin just no longer cared, and Yuri honestly wasn’t sure what to do with that.

It took a long few seconds to get her voice back under control, though it shook audibly still when she finally replied from behind her hands, “If that’s what you’d like me to believe.”

She wanted to say something else -- she wasn’t sure what it would have been, and now it no longer mattered. Because, even if she could withstand his words, that smile he was giving her, that utterly fake expression was just… too much. She took a step back, then another, until her hip bumped against the teacher’s desk, and she watched her son until her vision was too blurry to see more than shapes. Then she closed her eyes and wept, without a sound or even movement, her mouth’s aghast twitching hidden by her fingers. She cried for everything they lost, all three of them, and she cried for the fact that she was not strong enough to keep them all together. She had to have been weak, or else Rin would have trusted her before it was too late. Or he would at least trust her with his emotions, trust that she could take his anger, that he didn’t need to treat her as fragile. That her son chose to be strangers because he deserved a mother far better than she could be.

And the worst part was that Rin had to see this. She wouldn’t have minded crying in front of him if it was out of relief -- but this, Yuri falling to pieces in front of her own child was beyond mortifying. At one point, she had been a pillar of strength for her children, and now… she was pathetic.

Rin couldn’t help but watch his mother as she made her way around the room, talking to the other students and helping them when needed. She was a completely different person from who she’d been back in the prison— she was herself again, or at least very close to how he remembered her before all of this had happened.

No thanks to him, of course. Shiemi and Father Fujimoto did more for his mother while she was imprisoned than he ever did. Maybe the best way to protect his family, Rin thought, was to keep them as far away from him as possible. Even now, in this classroom, his mother only seemed to be upbeat as long as she wasn’t looking at or talking to Rin. She’d interacted with Rin, at least, and had been reasonably kind to him and encouraged him to summon, but her demeanor was considerably different towards him than it was towards the other students. Whether it was because Rin wasn’t used to seeing his mother in a teacher’s role or because she was trying to hide the fact that she couldn’t stand to be around him, Rin couldn’t tell, but she seemed much more… distant when talking to him than she did with the other students. She wasn’t cold, per se, but there was an edge to her tone that Rin wasn’t used to.

When she wouldn’t look him in the eye for the remainder of the class period, Rin was convinced he was right about her still despising him. He was glad she’d tried to soften the blow a bit, at least, but it didn’t keep his chest from aching like he’d been kicked in the sternum. After being told to stay behind, he walked over to where she was standing with an expression that he tried to keep as blank and neutral as possible. He kept his eyes locked on the desk.

“Thank you for treating me normally in class,” he said in an uncharacteristically formal tone that he’d probably picked up from his twin. “I’ll try not to bother you. I’m very good at not bothering teachers. It’ll be like I’m not in the class at all.” In fact, the only class he was known to actively and willingly participate in was Father Fujimoto’s; in the rest, he sat and silently took notes, afraid to ask any questions or contribute to discussions. Even when he was struggling, which was most of the time, he kept it to himself until he could get help from Shiemi, Yukio, Father Fujimoto, or Suguro.

Yuri took a long moment to just look at Rin. After how she had treated him, in the prison, and during the class, too, she wasn’t surprised he thought she wanted him to be out of her way. The reason she hadn’t paid him too much attention was not what he was thinking, though. She wasn’t sure how much attention he wanted on himself -- plus, she hadn’t really talked to him since before her imprisonment, and this wasn’t for anyone else’s ears. (Not to mention, she didn’t want to cry in front of a bunch of kids she was supposed to teach.)

“Rin,” she said softly, already feeling her voice catch a little in her throat as she reached out and took her son’s hands in hers. “I was so angry with you.” This perhaps wasn’t the best way to start, but she had to start somewhere. “I was trying so hard to clean up the mess you made, to keep our family together, and you just bullheadedly decided you knew better, and it all fell apart because you didn’t listen to me and Shirou.”

(Perhaps she would have softened the blow of her words even more before her imprisonment -- but it wasn’t just that she had hardened, it was that Rin had, too. He could take the truth.)

“But I am no longer angry,” she continued, her voice finally softening, fingers gently wrapping tighter around Rin’s fingers as she willed him to look up into her eyes. “And whatever I said while I was imprisoned, I could never truly hate you. That place…” She paused for a moment, took a deep breath, then shook her head. She couldn’t make excuses for the things she’d said. “I can’t undo any of this. Neither of us can, nor can we sweep it under the carpet and pretend our lives are still the same. I love you and Yukio more than anything and anyone, but I can’t deny there were things in my old life I abandoned when I had you two that I didn’t miss achingly. I didn’t want you to know this, because I didn’t want you to feel guilty about it -- it was my decision to have you, and missing things doesn’t mean I regretted any of it. It doesn’t mean I ever stopped loving you, not even when that prison turned me inside out and brought my most hideous bits and pieces to the surface.”

“…Oh.” Rin still wasn’t entirely sure how he was controlling the situation, or how he could possibly lose control in such a low-stakes environment, but he didn’t want to inconvenience his mother by asking. She seemed annoyed with him, anyways.

The half-demon gnawed at his own bottom lip, acutely aware of the scar tissue covering his mouth. It was long healed and faint enough that it wasn’t visible except for under very close scrutiny, but he could still feel the rough,altered texture of his lips and the insides of his cheeks. Half of him wanted to laugh hysterically at his mother’s words, and the other half was close to tears.

The thought that others would accept him if he was his true self was… outlandish, at best. Maybe a few people would, but Rin was sure that for the most part, other people’s treatment of him would worsen. It was even possible that someone could see Rin being himself as something dangerous, leading to him being imprisoned again. Even worse, what if someone attempted to kill him again?

He didn’t want to talk about that here, not in front of them, so he kept quiet and watched the other students attempt to summon. Shiemi and Izumo summoned their respective familiars effortlessly, as expected, while the other boys in the class had nothing to show for their efforts. The one with pink hair (Shima?) looked like he wasn’t even trying, and Konekomaru seemed relieved when he couldn’t manage to summon anything. Suguro, however, seemed… frustrated. Rin didn’t fully understand why; he’d always been determined to show some sort of proficiency in each of the Meisters, but Taming had always been the exception to that before. Was it because he wanted to prove he could get along with demons? Was it because Rin was good at it?

He felt a quiet sort of satisfaction at the thought that he was better than Suguro at a school subject not in spite of his demonic heritage, but because of it. He couldn’t write very well, or memorize verses from holy books he barely knew about, or even fully unleash his strength in PE without getting in trouble, but now he could summon.

Yuri took a step back so she would be able to keep her eyes on everyone all at once. She no longer looked at Rin, as he clearly needed no assistance. Shiemi and the other girl of the class didn’t seem to want help either. Yuri was not the least bit surprised to see Shiemi’s Greenman. It suited her well. “Did you know they can grow to two stories tall, or more?” she asked with a brief smile. Shiemi’s eyes widened.

“Really? Oh no, how will I summon him at the shop then?”

At this, Yuri outright laughed. It was a brisk, startled sound that lasted no longer than two seconds, but she was suddenly hit with the breathtaking realization that she hadn’t laughed since they left their home.

Turning her thoughts away from this as quickly as possible, she swallowed and explained, “Not permanently -- I mean that they can get big when they want. When you really need him to.” Shiemi’s eyes sparkled with delight, though Yuri had a sneaking suspicion that it wasn’t just because of her ‘Nii-chan’.

The rest of the class went much more smoothly. Those that could summon seemed to be in perfect control (though of course the environment wasn’t hostile at all), and those who didn’t were unable to do so even with further trying. Yuri didn’t encourage them much, mind. As she said, some people just weren’t meant for it; Suguro was going to make a fine Aria for sure, and so would the small boy whose name she couldn’t really remember (perhaps she should have started with a roll call).

“I don’t see how I could lose control if I’m not controlling him,” Rin said, raising a brow as he scratched under the Salamander’s chin in a way that made its tail wag. He decided Pepper was a pretty good name for his new friend; it was cute, food-related, and one of the few English words Rin knew. “Pepper is here because he wants to be. Isn’t that right, Pepper?” 

Yes! Want to help Young Prince! Rin felt a slimy, sticky tongue lick his cheek, causing him to giggle.

In response to his mother’s prompt for confirmation, Rin gave a small, bashful nod. “I’ve stopped demons that way before,” he added, trying to reassure his classmate. He hated ‘pulling rank’ and forcing demons into obedience, but he would absolutely do so if any of his classmates were in danger. 

Rin sighed with relief as soon as everyone turned away and began to work on their own summons, waiting to talk to his mother more until he was sure the others were too distracted to pay any attention to him. “I d-don’t like speaking Gehennan in front of humans. I mean, ‘cept for you ‘n Yukio and Shiemi an’ Fujimoto-san, of course,” he added quickly. Rin began to pet the top of Pepper’s head, finding the sensation of cool, damp skin against his hand calming. “I— I just don’t want to make anyone scared or uncomfortable, o-or for them to think I said something bad because they couldn’t understand,” he said quietly. I don’t want them to hurt me again was left unspoken, but the thought hung in the air nonetheless.

He wished he felt comfortable and safe enough to be himself, to not have to worry about how it looked when he summoned demons, but Rin was very much aware that it was dangerous for him to show any inhuman tendencies. So for the sake of survival, he held a glamour, refused to use any sort of demonic talent, and played at being human as best he could. 

Yuri barely resisted rolling her eyes at her son. Instead, she pursed her lips and said, “You’re controlling the situation, is what I meant.” She managed to bite her tongue before saying please pay attention. She could tell Rin was already nervous enough – and honestly, so was she. She couldn’t wait for the lesson to be over so she could actually talk to him. Maybe that was why she was so on edge.

Forcing patience on herself, she listened to Rin, though she kept her eyes on the rest of the students – not because she didn’t want to look at her son, but because she had to make sure the proceedings of the lesson were smooth. After all, everyone else was going to try summoning just about now. “People are ignorant,” she finally said simply. “That will not change, so you might as well resign yourself to it. If you keep pretending to be something you are not, nobody will accept you. How can they accept someone if they’re not given the chance to know him for real?”

His face was getting so red and hot that it was a miracle Rin didn’t burst into (normal, red) flames. It helped a little bit that his mother was drawing most of the attention, but he could still feel the eyes of his classmates on him, glancing back and forth between him and his mother. Whether they were trying to judge his reaction or look for similarities between the two of them, Rin couldn’t tell, but he was not enjoying the attention. The half-demon had worked very hard to draw as little attention to himself as possible in Cram School, and to appear as normal and un-Satan-like as possible— and if the injury that had caused him to drop his glamour, burst into flames, and start writhing on the floor in front of everyone hadn’t ruined that already, this definitely would.

Was this his mother’s way of getting revenge on him for his actions? Or was she just being a typical embarrassing mother, and Rin a typical self-conscious teenager? Rin couldn’t tell.

For once, he was able to grab a summoning paper along with everyone else; usually, Neuhaus kept Rin far away from the magic circles, claiming that it was a safety concern to let someone with such powerful demonic blood anywhere near a summoning circle. After all, there had never been anyone quite like Rin before; nobody was entirely sure what Rin was capable of, not even Rin himself. Therefore, Rin wasn’t all that surprised when his mother pulled the slip from his hand— only for his eyes to widen when she insisted he summon without using a magic circle. 

He wasn’t used to being trusted. He’d started to forget what it felt like.

Just as his mother predicted, summoning was like second nature to Rin. Slicing open the pad of his thumb with a claw, he allowed a small amount of blood to drip onto his desk before the wound closed up on its own. Suddenly, Gehennan words were spilling from his lips before he could stop himself; his lips were moving, but it didn’t feel like his conscious mind was the one speaking. It felt as if he had triggered some kind of deeply ingrained reflex, one he had no hope of suppressing entirely.

“I offer proof of my lineage to those who would aid me. Heed the call of your Prince,” he heard himself say, flushing at how archaic and commanding he sounded. Rin gave his mother a helpless, mortified look, feeling both self-conscious about this apparent reflex and thankful that this hadn’t happened in front of Neuhaus— only for his summon to finally arrive in the form of a black and red speckled Salamander the size of a dog. The half-demon’s nervous expression was quickly replaced with a small smile; he’d always liked Salamanders. Before he knew it, the Salamander was rushing into his arms, and the half-demon reacted quickly, holding him like one would hold a hyperactive dog.

Young Prince! Thank for chose me! Rin heard telepathically in the broken, stilted Gehennan typical of mid to low-class demons. The Salamander wriggled in his arms excitedly like a fish out of water.

“You, uh— You don’t have to call me that. J-Just Rin is fine,” he said softly, flushing. “I should be thanking you for choosing me.” Rin turned his attention away from his new friend and towards his mother again, all the while trying to keep a good grip on his surprisingly slippery familiar. “Is there, um… can I… how do I not say what I said whenever I summon? It just kind of… slipped out.” Rin remembered Neuhaus telling the others to say whatever felt natural to them when summoning, but Rin didn’t think it was supposed to be like… whatever he’d just done.

Yuri and the rest of the class watched with bated breath as Rin summoned the Salamander. She managed to suppress a smile, though barely – still, she didn’t want anyone to accuse her of favouritism. The rest of the kids were so stunned at the turn of events that none of them had actually moved forward with their own summoning, not even when Yuri turned to them and quirked a silent eyebrow.

“But isn’t… isn’t this dangerous?” asked a small, bald boy wearing glasses. “Summoning without a circle…? What if it… what if Rin loses control?”

“No,” Yuri replied without missing a beat, not looking at her son. “If you have the mental fortitude or the power to summon without a circle, you won’t lose control. Doubt will get you nowhere…” She trailed away, fixing her gaze on the boy until he flushed a little and introduced himself.

“I’m Miwa Konekomaru, sensei.”

Yuri’s mouth quirked into a small smile again. “Well, Miwa-kun, in fact, we are safer doing this in Rin’s presence than we would be without. Since he doesn’t need a circle, he would be able to take control of someone else’s familiar, too, if need be – even if you can’t split your paper quick enough.” Her gaze flicked to Rin, as if asking him to confirm.

Instead, Rin asked something else, and Yuri’s eyebrow rose, a look of open curiosity settling on her face. “Why would you want to?” Then she shook her head, her gaze momentarily clouding over. She knew full well why Rin didn’t want to be what he was. And she didn’t want to talk about that in front of the whole class, so she decided to just answer his question. “If this is what’s comfortable, there is no point to forcing something else. You’d either fail to summon, or the connection would be as shaky as your confidence. As I said a minute ago,” she added, a little reproachfully.

Taming and Circles had always been Rin’s least favorite part of the day, and his brief break from Cram School hadn’t changed his mind. It wasn’t the work he had an issue with; he liked working with demons, and he was rather good at the subject. Taming and Circles should have been the class he had the highest grade in… if not for the fact that the teacher hated him.

Granted, most of the teachers hated him (with the exception of Father Fujimoto), but the rest at least tried to be impartial when it came to judging Rin’s work. Neuhaus did nothing of the sort, instead preferring to criticize everything Rin did— even when he did the exact same thing as Shiemi, who received copious amounts of praise. 

Rin had not been looking forward to seeing Neuhaus again after he’d recovered, but the last thing he’d expected was to see his mother in his classroom in full Exorcist gear. The boy was frozen in his seat, eyes wide; she’d been kind to him while he was hurt, but Rin was better now, and it was entirely possible that she had gone right back to despising him now that he was not defenseless and pitiable. Had she taken this job knowing Rin would be in her class? The half-demon really didn’t think so. 

Rin was so absorbed with his own thoughts that he didn’t even register the reactions of confusion and surprise coming from his own classmates. Rin was just about to apologize for his presence and leave when things finally clicked in Shima’s head. “You’re Rin’s mom?!” the half-demon heard Shima blurt from behind him, loud enough that Rin was sure the entire campus could hear. Rin sank down in his seat, hoping that he’d spontaneously develop the ability to turn invisible right then and there.

He had no such luck.

Yuri swept her gaze across the classroom, settling on the pink-haired boy. Smart one there. “I am,” she replied simply. Now that she was a part of the Order, the news would travel fast anyway; she was somewhat infamous (an understatement). “But summoning Satan is not on the curriculum today, I’m afraid.” Taking in the reactions, her mouth quirked into the smallest of smirks. She was not going to allow anyone to underestimate her ever again – not even a bunch of high schoolers.

“Now,” she said, pulling herself up to her full height and wrapping her fingers together behind her back. “This arrangement was a rather haphazard one, so I haven’t had much time to get myself up to speed on where exactly you are in the curriculum.” The woman pulled out a stack of papers with a variety of circles drawn on them, none of the demons they could summon higher than the level of a Greenman. There were a couple of empty ones as well, though. “I shall see what you all are capable of.” If they hadn’t tried summoning, it was the perfect opportunity to do it. “Find a circle you recognize, or pick an empty slip if you already have a preference or a familiar.”

As the students gathered, she took a moment to pull Shiemi to the side. “Rin is good at this class, right?” she whispered. “Should I let him show off, or does he just want to be inconspicuous?”

Shiemi looked at her for a moment, then shook her head. “Actually, he’s probably good at it, but we wouldn’t know – Neuhaus-sensei never lets him do anything.”