disorder_heaven | Magic Hunt at MFing Aokigahara

Entry tags:

!plots for fun

Magic Hunt at MFing Aokigahara

The fact that Urushihara had a keen eye for patterns and trends was one of his less appreciated skills. As one of the war generals in Demon King Satan's army, it made his division highly feared and nearly unstoppable.

Here, it had gotten him something more along the lines of a snarky comment from Ashiya. "About time," or something like that. Hard to tell. Urushihara hadn't really been listening.

Either way, upon Urushihara's elaboration regarding the Suicide Forest, Ashiya had grown more and more uncertain. Eventually comments about warning signs and body sweeps deteriorated into snide remarks about cell phones failing to work and the pitch blackness that came with noon.

A bowl of miso soup full of something-whatever beta took care of the bitching, but Ashiya managed to come out of the bathroom just long enough to lob a thick volume of Maou's favourite manga at the back of Urushihara's head. So, when Maou returned home from his long, hard day at MgRonald's, it would be to the sight of Urushihara on the ground and Ashiya in the bathroom groaning dramatically.

Just another day at the Devil's Castle.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"There's a difference between having a home base and having a home," Urushihara said plainly, letting a strip of meat dangle from his chopsticks.

Lucifer was problematic. Nothing and nowhere had ever made him happy. Bored and lonely, he'd fallen from Heaven, and at the same time had betrayed his only friends for a slim chance at returning. Even he couldn't put words to the feelings that had driven him to such a stupid action.

Maou didn't need words for those feelings, because he wouldn't be able to understand. He had already accepted Lucifer's actions and forgiven him. That was what mattered to Maou.

As it was, he shrugged, acquiescing. He claimed another lump of meat, dipping it into the sauce. "I'd like to keep what we have. No matter where we end up next."

He wouldn't pretend that it was probable or even possible. He couldn't make promises he couldn't stab into a rock and trust that there it would stay for a few centuries. Maou just didn't want to lose his friends, now matter how badly he fucked up.

Urushihara still wasn't quite sure of Maou was being honest or just posturing for the sake of pretending to have all the answers. Either way, he didn't press the issue, falling to following Maou's example and eating the meat with the delicious sauce. It was unlike anything they had on Ente Isla, and made him almost want to try making this kind of thing at home.

Almost.

And just like that, Urushihara stopped with a piece of food halfway to his mouth. His eyes, normally reflective and bright, clouded over. He didn't want to go home, he realized now. Not yet. Despite the brutality and horror of what had occurred in the forest, he was enjoying himself now. His aching body was still troublesome, but his heart was warming up slightly.

Or maybe his stomach. He was eating these things pretty quick. But still.

Maou swallowed the beef with a mumbled cry of, "So good!" When he opened his eyes, the Urushihara he was met with had his smile wavering in confusion. He watched him a moment, lips evening out into a considering expression.

"It's pretty good, right?" Maou flashed him a smile. "Told ya so."

"It really is, yeah. Thanks."

Better than pork bowls, anyway. Urushihara actually really didn't like pork. Beef was better. Healthier. Tastier. More nutritious.

And burning his mouth. He coughed, swallowing the chunk of meat and blinking the tears from his eyes rapidly. He was eating too fast.

"Dude, slow down. You gotta savor it, not inhale it," Maou lightly admonished. "It ain't gonna run away."

"Knowing our family?" Urushihara teased lightly. However, he did slow down. No need to scarf down his food like a stray dog afraid the meat would be taken away from him.

He was loathing that he loved this. The idea of going out to eat with Maou, even if Ashiya or the others were there, wasn't too unpleasant.

Of course, he would need to get a smartphone or tablet. Or maybe a 3DS.

"True," Maou conceded, smiling. He was just pleased Urushihara had confirmed they were a family. He'd be happy if Urushihara could go out with them some time. Maou could get him a cap to hide his hair. Or a sunhat. They would skip the shades, though. Maou didn't want Lucifer looking like Sariel of the Chicken Gaze.

Mood drastically improved, Maou lined up more beef on the grill, this time like sentries headed to war. Or the slaughter. The tune he was humming while cooking his prey was one of the pop songs that played in MgRonald's.

"Though I guess it'd be more fun if they did run away."

"They look like they're lined up for the slaughterhouse," Urushihara drawled with a slow, creeping grin. "Or I could move and sit at the end of the grill with my mouth open, and you can just conveyor-belt them down the hatch."

This was enjoyable. Even though moving hurt and Urushihara's eyes were still a little wary, he was having fun.

"Yes!" Maou shouted grandly, gripping his free hand into a fist. "I am all for that second plan. Sound effects included. Here, no, wait--"

He nudged his cup of sauce to the end of the grill. Then, with single-minded intensity, Maou rolled the lattermost segment of intestine down the grill with his chopsticks, his lips making the vvvv sound of a machine.

"Now who's gonna get weird looks?"

This side of Maou was childish and sweet. It was such a stark contrast to the demon that had hurt him in the woods, and yet it was the same man. How was such a think possible?

Urushihara's chopsticks darted out to intercept Maou's, aiming to snag the vrooming piece of meat.

"Gimme that."

"Wha--!" Maou floundered and fenced with Urushihara's chopsticks, temporarily thwarting him.

"Ah-ah, young grasshopper," he chided in a dorky voice. "If you want my booty, you'll have to try better than that!"

"I don't want anythin' to do with your booty," Urushihara replied in the same calm, casual voice he always used. He rested his cheek in his palm as he battled Maou's chopsticks with his own. "But I would like your meat, so. Gimme."

A laugh rumbled just beneath Maou's grin as he parried Urushihara. "You're good, I admit. But there's something you don't know."

"You're not left-handed?" Urushihara's chopsticks closed around the piece of meat, holding it against the grill so that it sizzled appetizingly and filled their small space with the smell of good beef.

Maou pressed his chopsticks against the sizzling strip. He stared down Urushihara.

"Right, and! You can have my meat." Maou relinquished the piece and nabbed another strip, dipping it into the sauce with finality. He was incredibly pleased with himself.

Somehow, Urushihara felt as though he'd lost. He let the piece cook for a little longer, bewildered, before dipping it into the sauce alongside Maou's and finally eating it. He chewed quietly, wondering how they were supposed to explain today to Ashiya, and what the hell was on Maou's mind.

Maou's thoughts drifted along a hopeful track. This outing was ending much better than he expected not twenty minutes ago. He thanked his lucky, self-motivated stars he had gone through with this, rather than let them both mope back at the apartment. Beyond a passing worry that Ashiya would still be sick when they returned, though, his top advisor wasn't really on his mind. For once, the only plans the Demon King was making was how best to do this again. He was here, in this moment, wondering how long it would take the coals to ignite the whole length of a chopstick if he stuck it through the grill.

You know, the important questions.

And, perhaps, Urushihara felt as though he'd lost because Maou had planned to let him take the beef from the start.

"Y'know," Maou began thoughtfully, "I'm startin' to think we need to invest in one o' these for the Devil's Castle."

"What, actual food?" Urushihara muttered, poking at a piece of cooking intestine he wasn't sure he actually wanted with the tip of one chopstick. "I agree."

He knew Maou meant the grill, of course, but it wasn't like they had much to grill except broccoli stalks and bean sprouts.

"Maybe that's why I'm just so weak and delicate and tired. I'm anemic. Need more red meat. Tell Ashiya."

"Yeah. Weak an' delicate. That's totally what you are," Maou said. He airily waved his chopsticks around as he continued, "I'll pass on your dying message."

"Yes, I die of starvation and anemia and you tell Ashiya my dying message is, "I'm hungry. Buy better food." No, I don't want that to be my dying message to Ashiya. If I die, you get tell Ashiya to take his fat head and stick--"

It was perhaps lucky that a piece of rice chose that moment to go down the wrong pipe, causing him to choke and cut himself off.

Maou stared a moment, brow pinched. "Jeez man, I know you wanna tell Ashiya off, but don't die yet."

He showed clear concern when Urushihara was lying prone on the ground, but apparently choking to death wasn't enough to warrant much sympathy.

Urushihara swallowed hard, tears in his eyes.

"Ma-an, fuck you..."

There was no real malice behind it. Mostly because it was hard to be intimidating when you'd just choked on a single grain of rice.

Maou sent a why tho look across the table. "I did say to not inhale it . . ."

His expression could have been mistaken for concern, but it seemed more like mild consternation. If his subordinate was going to choke, Maou didn't want it to be on rice.

"Shuddup. I live with Ashiya. If you don't eat fast, you don't eat."

And that was just when Urushihara got called to the table to begin with. He didn't doubt that he'd missed many meals.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject