Chapter 1

Amaimon twitched in the nothingness. Where was he… He knew he wasn't in Gehenna; the usual layer of darkness wasn't there. Not the kind of empty darkness he was surrounded by right know, like the kind you get when you close your eyes - that was simply a lack of light. He meant a different kind of darkness, one more physical. One that pushes into your skin and soul, and made his demon flame burn brighter than ever.

So that means he was in Assiah. Huh, how did he get there…

Just as the thought crossed his mind, he found himself lifting out of the nothingness. He became aware slowly of the cold pinpricks of wetness that tapped against his skin and clothes. 'Rain,' he mentally categorized. The surface underneath him was hard; like rock, but not rock. 'Cement.' His fingers twitched and scraped against the cement, briefly brushing against a small tuft of soft, stringy strands. 'Grass.'

He huffed out a breath, and then resisted the urge to groan in pain. His entire body was sore, and there was an especially sharp pain in his chest. That was even more unusual than his lack of memory about how and why he was in Assiah.

He tried to open his eyes, but found that the simple act took much more of his strength than it should've. And even when he managed to crack his eyelids a bit, the rain stung and clouded his vision, and he decided it was just a better idea to just keep his eyes closed for the time being. He couldn't move without a roaring pain, and frankly, that wasn't quite worth it to get out of the rain. Eh, he was a Demon King. He didn't need to worry about human illnesses anyways.

Time wandered on, but he was numb to it as the rain continued to patter against him. It could've been five minutes or an hour, but eventually the rain began to slow from it's steady downpour, to a light sprinkle he could barely feel. But that didn't really matter, considering he was soaked to the bone. Amaimon focused on keeping his breaths shallow and even. He would have to get up soon. Since the rain had stopped, the humans would probably be coming out of their homes, and he didn't want any of them to see him in this pitiful state he was in. His clothes were more torn than usual, he could feel the breezes, he was soaked and probably bloodied, and his teeth were starting to chatter from the intense cold he was feeling.

Suddenly, as if the weather couldn't make up its mind, the rain started to pick up back to its previous heavy downpour, and Amaimon cursed to the deepest pits of Gehenna whoever thought of this as a joke. He wasn't laughing, and if he wasn't laughing, nobody should be.

He stayed like that for a few more minutes, cursing the sky and weighing the pros and cons of getting up and moving, when he heard something. It was a small noise, barely able to be heard over the rain, and that made him think that it must have been quiet indeed, if he was barely able to hear it with his demon-enhanced hearing. It occurred again, and Amaimon realized with a sort of sluggish curiosity that it sounded like one of those sneezing kittens on those weird videos his Ani-ue watched when he thought he wasn't looking. It was followed by a sniffle that sounded more human than catlike, and Amaimon decided it must have been a sneeze.

'But what is a human doing outside during the rain?' he wondered. He didn't have anymore time to think, though, as that small, kitten-like sneeze sounded again, closer, and he felt something hard shoving into his side before toppling on him. He gasped silently as a burning sensation shock-waved through his body. He couldn't remember ever being in this much pain before. It's simply never happened.

His last thought was bewilderment, before his thoughts fled him altogether and he blacked out.

Hana sneezed, accidentally jiggling her umbrella. 'Crap,' she thought. 'I had better not be getting sick.' It started out as a really nice day - all sunshine and blue skies. Then it had started to pour heavily while she was at work. It still kept going for more than half an hour after she clocked out, and she didn't leave because she didn't have an umbrella. Finally, it had started clearing up to a light drizzle, and her boss, Hashimoto-san (Hana swears that old lady is prophetic), had lent her her umbrella in case it started again. And the rain had indeed started up again right after she left the store where she worked. So thank goodness she had that umbrella, or she'd be soa-

"Achoo!" Hana sniffled, rubbing her pink nose with her free hand. She disliked sneezing, because whenever she did, her knee jumped a little and her back bent, making her repeatedly nearly knee her self in the forehead. Plus, it didn't help that whenever she sneezed, the people around her would always coo and call her cute. 'It's not my fault I look like I'm eleven! I'm seventeen, dammit!'

Her nose twitched and she sneezed again. 'I'm getting sick, I just know it,' she bemoaned in her head. But she was startled quickly from her thought when she tripped violently over… something.

She groaned from her face-down position on the sidewalk, the rain pounding through her thin blue sweater. She straightened slightly and sat on her legs, rubbing her head. "What did I trip over?" she muttered, mahogany brown eyes peeking in slightly annoyed curiosity over her shoulder. She gasped, though, when her questioned was answered.

A person.

"…"

A very dead looking person.

"I tripped over a body!" Hana screeched to the heavens, before slapping a hand over her mouth. She glanced around, brown eyes searching for anybody who could've heard her. Thankfully, they weren't in the residential area yet. Instead, they were on the sidewalk by an empty park, devoid of all life except for a few stray cats, a couple of sleeping homeless people, and some stoners that didn't even give her a glance. Across the street was a small drug store, which was closed for remodeling. Nobody was wandering the streets either, being that it was past 11:30 at night.

"What do I do, what do I do?" Hana griped, staring at the man- no, boy. She crawled a little closer, ignoring the rain, and leaned over him. He was definitely a boy; about her age, maybe a few years older. He had deep green hair with an odd, soggy spike at the top that was a lighter yellow color. He was pale, and as she looked him over, he was dressed almost like a… well, a clown. He wore a black and pink striped collared shirt, a pale beige vest with odd crossbone buttons, dark maroon pants with yellow polka dots that stopped at his knees, giving way to green leggings the same color as the darkest parts of his hair. He also wore a ragged coat that was the same maroon color as his pants (minus the polka dots), dark green fingerless gloves that disappeared under his coats sleeves, and a squared off yellow and orange striped tie was around his neck.

Hana also noticed that he looked like he had been run over by an eighteen-wheeler. His coat was torn and frayed, doing nothing to keep him warm, and his tie was hanging on by barely a thread. His gloves had gaping holes in the palms, and she could see that his hands were bleeding slightly, like he scraped them against the road. His pants and leggings had multiple tears in them, and he was missing a pointy toed, dark brown boot. But the most prominent feature was the wide tear surrounded by blood that slashed through his vest, going diagonally from his collar bone to his naval.

Hana gasped, slapping her hand over her mouth to prevent a horrified squeal from escaping into the still night air. She hadn't noticed before because it was so dark, but now that she was paying attention, she could see the glow of the flickering street lamp reflecting off of something that was much darker than water. A small puddle of blood, diluted by the pouring rain, surrounded the boy, and as Hana watched it flow with the small current down the street drain, she wondered if he had been in some sort of gang fight. Gangs weren't uncommon around here, but they generally kept to themselves and stayed away from the well-protected residential areas.

But Hana's theories all stopped in their tracks as the boy shifted slightly in his unconsciousness. She bit her knuckles and, disregarding how it happened, she wondered what she should do.

He was badly hurt, and needed treatment as soon as he could get it. She knew how to clean and bandage wounds well enough from when her best friend Nikki would get into brawls. Perhaps she should take him to her house…

As soon as the thought crossed her mind, Hana berated herself for entertaining that kind of stupidity. If he was in a gang fight, that most likely meant he was in a gang, and though the gangs in the area kept to themselves, they were still violent and not people you wanted to be caught up with. The obvious idea was to take him to the hospital. But… the closest hospital was nearly an hour's walk away, and, after a quick check, she discovered her phone was dead. That meant she couldn't call for help from Nikki (who had a driver's license), or an ambulance. And with her small stature and bad sense of direction, Hana most certainly couldn't drag the boy for an hour to a hospital.

But her house was a five minute - at most - walk away. Her parents weren't home (whether that was a good thing or a bad thing, she couldn't tell), and if she remembered correctly, she had all the stuff she needed at home to treat his wound. She could treat him, and then use the landline to call for an ambulance.

Hana hesitated, biting her knuckles before letting out a sigh and standing up. But she didn't walk away, instead walking behind the boy and grabbing him underneath the armpits. It was a struggle, but finally she pulled him up to where his head was supported by her shoulder, and her hands were fisting into his torn vest - simultaneously keeping her grip on him so he didn't fall and putting pressure on his bleeding wound.

She shuffled backwards along the sidewalk for a few steps, feeling incredibly awkward, before carefully removing one hand and bending down slightly to grab Hashimoto-san's umbrella. It was still open, so she didn't have to struggle with that as well. She placed it above them, the slight drip from the wet umbrella better than the pouring rain. Hana bit down on the curved handle, and, keeping it in her mouth, let go of the handle and regained her slipping grip on the boy.

As she struggled down the sidewalk, dragging the much bigger and heavier boy in her arms, she hoped she wouldn't run into anyone. 'Why me?' she cried to herself, her teeth denting into the umbrella' plastic handle as her sneakers briefly lost their hold on the wet cement.

Hana was sure the walk to her home was the longest five minutes of her life.