A/N: This is my first fanfiction. Sorry if it's horrible, but I hope it's at least worth a read. I'm planning on continuing it, though I'm not quite sure where to take it, so don't expect much. I'm not sure when exactly this is set, but I suppose it's sometime after the Seven Mysteries of True Cross Academy arc. I don't own Ao no Exorcist or any of the characters or concepts within it. Enjoy, if you can.

They weren't talking to him.

It had been days, almost a week now, and they still refused to acknowledge him. He hadn't directly heard anyone's voice in almost a week. Whenever he came around, they would quickly hush up in whatever they were talking about and split off to go their separate ways. He'd only caught faint dying whispers from any of them since they'd gotten back from that one dreadful mission. It was starting to really get to him.

All his life he'd lived with those whispers, those hushed voices speaking scornful, fearful words behind his back. All his life he'd been biting his tongue, trying not to let them get to him. Why couldn't they just come out and say it all to his face? Why did they all assume the worst of him before they even knew him? Why were they all so afraid? But he forced himself through it. For Yukio's sake, for the old man's sake, and for his own sanity. They didn't need him picking even more fights and causing even more trouble for them, and he wasn't going to start picking fights with people who hadn't really done anything wrong. His only consolation to himself, the only thing that kept him going, really, was that he was fighting for good reasons, taking down those who were doing bad, bad things. If he started picking fights with people just for the way they acted around him, he might start to believe those whispers calling him, "monster," "beast," and, worst of all, "demon." No, he had to restrain himself, keep his brutish, monstrous, demonic tendencies to his efforts to keep in line the scum that deserved it. He didn't know what he'd do if he started fighting with whoever made him angry, if he lost what little reassurance he had that he couldn't be a monster, a demon, because he was doing the right thing. He was doing the right thing. They just didn't know it. And he let them carry on in their harsh, hurtful ignorance, in part because a part of him believed them, no matter how many times Shiro had insisted on their falsity – and all those reassurances, all that insistence, that was just lies, after all, wasn't it? – and partly because he didn't think he could stand to openly acknowledge them to tell them otherwise without blowing up from pent up anger and frustration. He'd never had friends, or anyone who cared about him in the slightest other than Yukio, the old man, and the others at the monastery. And they all lied to you your whole life. Even they had their own "whispers."

Now, though, he'd had friends for the first time ever, had others watching out for him as he watched out for them. Had people to be close to and joke around with and let his guard down around. And he'd thrown it all away. It wasn't like he'd meant to, it had just…happened. He didn't even know what had happened. One minute everything was fine – sure, there was a rampaging demon loose, trying to kill them all, but they'd had it handled and were practically two steps away from exorcising it – then the battle took a turn for the worse and the next minute…

Now his friends, the people he'd learned to trust in and place his faith in that they would be there for him, had just…abandoned him. They'd abandoned him at a time when he felt he needed them most. He was just as shaken up by what had happened as they were. He didn't think they truly understood just how stressful and terrifying all this was to him. He needed their support, he needed someone to reassure him, somehow, that everything was okay, that it was all going to be just fine, and that he wasn't a monster, a demon.

He'd tried so hard to make up with them, to show them that he was sorry and that he was in control, that he wasn't a danger to anybody, despite the fact that he didn't fully believe it himself. He'd always known that he was a danger to those around him. He'd always been dangerous, even before his awakening. His superhuman strength, his violent attitude, his general aura of misfortune and destruction that seemed to follow in his wake everywhere he went… But that was beside the point. He was only dangerous to those around him if he couldn't control himself. He could control himself, though, and no one could see that. Control was the essence of his very being, what his whole life revolved around.

Despite his efforts, his smiles, his apologies, his awkward attempts to joke around and pretend as if everything was normal, all his supposed friends had done was turn their head and ignore him. All they did was whisper behind his back, like all those throughout his life had done.

It didn't even anger him anymore. Not coming from them, who he'd thought were his friends, at least. Every time he heard them his fists would clench out of habit, and he'd feel that familiar irritation start to bubble in the back of his mind, but then it all just…fell away…when the identities of the owners of the voices sank in. His hands would fall loosely to his sides, his head would fall, his feet would drag, and he'd feel his tail droop against the skin where he had it wrapped around his waist.

He'd thought he could ignore it. He'd thought he could just take the whispers and mumbled discontents and go on with his life, patiently waiting for them to come around and see him as he was. It had been almost a week now, though, and coming from his own friends, the people he'd opened himself up to so, he just couldn't take it. He'd always hated the whispers, and now, for his own friends to betray him by treating him the same way as all those others in his life… There was a deep, fiery resentment rising up in him slowly but steadily. It was different from his previous rage, more personal and lingering, and it kind of scared him. It scared him that he could feel such a way towards his friends. He pushed it down, like he'd pushed down all his other anger towards the people who treated him so, fearing that it would cause him to act out rashly. The last thing he needed was to add to their fears and scare them even more, as well as give them even more cause to think he was out of control.

There were only two reactions he could have, though. It was either the deep, honestly slightly terrifying resentment that boiled in his bones, or complete dejection. Sometimes dejection got to be too much, sometimes he'd find himself switching back to resentment without even realizing it until his fists were clenched and he caught himself glaring at nothing in particular. He'd tried apathy, but that just didn't work. He just couldn't convince himself that he didn't care, because he did care. He cared so much he thought his heart would burst every time he thought about them and their stupid, infuriating whispers. Apathy had been his (attempted) response to everyone else in the past, but he couldn't bring it into this. He cared too much.

They weren't talking to him, and he couldn't make them talk to him. They would only talk behind his back, and he couldn't do anything to change that. So he bit his tongue, he held his breath, and he forced himself to push through it. He flinched any time he heard their voices, whether it was those cursed whispers or just random conversation down the hall or the occasional shout that carried across the school grounds. He hardly saw any of them anymore. Even Shura and Yukio were hardly around at the moment, due to various official duties and missions. He knew his brother and instructor couldn't help it, but the rest were obviously trying to avoid him. It was so painful to be around them now that he started avoiding them, too. He hated being alone for so long, but he was used to it by now. He spent most of his time either outside on the roof of his dorm, or holed up in his room, staring intently at his sword as if he expected it to sprout legs and run away.

That was where he was now. He sat cross-legged on his bed, staring at Kurikara resting in front of him, lost in his depressing musings on his friends and the whispers. He felt numb, but now that intense, fiery anger was starting to rise up in him. How could they treat him like this? How dare they treat him like this! After promising that they would be there for him, after promising him that they would always be by his side and that he could rely on them, how could they turn around and treat him like this? How dare they build up his trust and reliance and then just rip it all away from him! How dare they make such promises and then break them without the slightest provocation! When he made a promise, he meant it! When he made a promise, he kept it, dammit! He was a demon, for crying out loud, and he had a better sense of honor and friendship than any of them!

He didn't notice how his tail had started to twitch violently, its movements becoming steadily more exaggerated until it was continuously slapping against the blankets with a steady thwap, like an angry cat's. He didn't notice how his hands had clenched into fists and his nails were digging sharply into his palms. Lost in his angry, bitter thoughts, he didn't notice the way the air around him was starting to almost visibly shimmer with heat and power.

After all the work he'd put into befriending them, after all the effort he'd made to show them that he was a good guy, after all the struggles he'd pushed through to prove that he was in control and wasn't a monster, after everything he'd done for them…they'd thrown it all away over something so tiny, so insignificant – !

"– Damn it!" he yelled, grabbing his still-sheathed sword and chucking it angrily at the opposite wall where it hit with a loud bang. He'd jumped to his feet in the process, and now he stood there, breathing heavily.

He'd given so much for them, all of them, and for what? What?! Why wouldn't anyone give him a chance?! His friends, they knew better! He knew they knew better! And yet, they still turned on him for something he couldn't help, couldn't control!

He let out an angry scream and brought both hands up to tear at his hair. Finally, the shimmering, slightly blue-tinted air around him burst into raging azure flames. They roared around him, mingling with his frustrated yell until he noticed them and froze, silencing himself. He brought his hands back down loosely and stared down at himself. He watched the fiery blue that so taunted him dance around him, roiling over his skin and sparking off of his fingers and tail. The flames calmed as he watched them, having lost their intensity when his anger faded in shock.

He hated it when he lost control like this and they came rushing out without him intending them to. Still, he held on to them for a moment longer, forcing them to linger so he could study them for just one more second, as if that one second could suddenly reveal to him all the answers to the questions he so agonized over. It didn't, though, and as the heat and power retreated once more within him, he was left, once more, on his own, in complete silence.

He let out a great sigh, putting his hand to his face, and dropped to his knees on the floor. What was he doing? Sitting here sulking in his room and bursting into flames randomly wasn't going to help anything. If he wanted to feel better about this, he had to do something about it. If his friends were afraid, fine. He would train and work and improve on himself and prove to them that there was nothing to be afraid of. And even if his friends were never going to let him earn them back, he could at least make sure his journey with them and then their ending betrayal didn't amount to nothing. He stood, scooped Kurikara up from the floor, and started out of the dorm.

He would go out, and he would fix whatever it was that had screwed everything up like this. He would learn how to control himself better – if he could even figure out what it was he needed to control. He would go, and he would train and work until he dropped from exhaustion, and then he would train and work some more until he finally succeeded.

He wasn't a demon, no matter what his true parentage was, and he would prove that to everyone. Somehow. Even if he himself was starting to have his doubts…