Being in a teenage human body had several drawbacks. Not only did he lack magic, but teenagers —specifically teenage boys— had rather demanding hormones.

Now, this normally wouldn't have been a problem for Lord Satan; he was rather disciplined despite his young age of three hundred years. No— the problem was there happened to be a persistent human that constantly tried his patience.

Chiho Sasaki.

What a pain.

And by pain he meant a pain to his groin.

God, was that girl distracting.

It wasn't always like this, of course. Hormones or no hormones, he was still the Demon King. There was no way he was going to allow this simple human girl to overtake him.

(Though now he wouldn't mind being overtaken and pinned down by her; her eyes wide, lips parted, cheeks flushed, all with a soft whisper of Mr. Mao, please take me right now—)

It all happened after the Sariel incident. After he realized how much danger she was put it, how much she was willing to lay her life on the line for him. He faintly remembered a strange feeling in his stomach at the thought. At the time he passed it off as gas or maybe even from some abdominal pain from the 'battle', but later he would feel it over and over again when she smiled or laughed.

To put it frank, it was annoying.

He took to staring at her after that. Why did his stomach do somersaults at just the thought of her? Perhaps he was sick. Perhaps she was sick. Just the thought her even being sick made his stomach twist uncomfortably.

He was just worried, he had reasoned. She was a friend.

(A friend he wouldn't mind grinding his hips against, sloppily applying hot kisses along her neck and jawline until she turned into a puddle of jelly in his wandering hands—)

That was, until she kissed him.

It wasn't a big kiss or anything. It was chaste and quick, nothing of importance. He had complimented something of hers, he can't quite remember, and she got so excited that she kissed him. On the cheek, that is.

His cheek tingled throughout the entire night.

(It was also that night that a problem persisted in his jeans and he locked himself in the bathroom. Ashiya and Urushihara assumed he had finally been affected by Susumo's Celestial noodles; in actuality, however, he was sitting in the dark jerking like a goddamn teenager over a simple, stupid kiss.)

It was after that kiss that he knew he had a problem. His stomach wasn't just being overrun by butterflies, no— those damn bugs were on fire.

Just looking in her direction, smelling her shampoo, seeing her smile —shit, just hearing her damn name made it hard to concentrate.

He was Satan Jacob, Demon King and rightful ruler of the human race, and he would not…could not…!

…

—and he was yet again sitting in the dark, frantically mumbling Chiho's name as if it were his saving grace…

Oh, how the mighty have fallen.

(The thing was he didn't mind. In fact, in the dark reaches of his soul his own imagination is just begging to be on its knees, young, sweet Chiho standing tall with a smirk on her plump lips. You're mine she would whisper softly, lovingly.

Fuck.)

His imagination was taking over him. It's gotten to the point where he can't even concentrate on work.

This problem was no longer just a problem; it was a goddamn mess.

(A big hot, hot mess and God was he tired of his own goddamn hands)

It was a Tuesday when Mao lost his cool.

It's not a special day or anything, he was just reasonably angry.

(Some fucking bastard was hitting on Chiho and making her so fucking uncomfortable. Stop looking at her chest her eyes are up there stop looking at her chest her eyes are up there—)

Excuse me, sir he had practically growled Do you need further assistance?

Not from you, man the guy had snorted, immediately placing his eyes back on Chiho('s chest) Now, how about I get your number along with those…double decker burgers…

Chiho was pink and pale and green all at once and Mao was just so mad he couldn't even stand it—

Sorry, sir Mao smiled pleasantly (as pleasant as a rattlesnake staring down a trespasser) But I'm afraid that's not on the menu.

He didn't remember much after that (now isn't that a scary thought) but he did remember glaring at what the guy had replied with (Chiho was still pink and pale and green and it looked worse than before and oh God were her lips trembling?) and he may have used magic but he's not sure (the guy was vomiting and crying but that could have been a coincidence) and Chiho is still pink and pale and green—

She was scared, he remembered.

He felt guilty guilty guilty guilty—

He avoided her for a week.

She waited impatiently for only a day.

(More like only four hours but it's not like he was counting)

He dreamed of her often that week—

(He did that every week but this was different, a good different)

—and it was a bit painful. He dreamed of her in his arms. Her hands weren't roaming over his chest, her eyes weren't half-lidded with lust and desire— no, no, she was just in his arms, smiling softly and causing his heart stop and then quicken so fast he thought it was going to burst.

But she's a friend, he had reasoned.

Only a friend.

Not only a friend, but a human.

Only a human.

He was the devil.

Lord Satan.

The Great Demon King.

And the thought of this girl brought him to his knees and it was so frustrating.

When he finally managed to stop avoiding her he realized how much he missed her.

Being away from her was agonizing.

He resolved to never do such a thing again.

I'm so happy she had said, eyes closed in content and cheeks a light, rosy hue. I thought you didn't want to be my friend or be near me anymore.

Friend.

She likes (loves) him, he knows, but it can't happen.

Instead, he smiles back and says Never.

She looks so happy in that moment.

His chest feels like it exploded.

Ashiya, Urushihara, and even Emi are worried. He's withdrawn and unhappy and cold.

He should stop them from worrying, but he's tired.

Tired tired tired tired….

He's depressed Urushihara announces one night. He has all the symptoms. Google doesn't lie.

Depressed? Emi paused. I guess he does seem off…

Mao stopped listening to them nearly three days ago. What they say doesn't matter, he thinks.

He doesn't, however, deny the claim.

It's present time now. His words are short. His temper even shorter. Everyone is worried.

"I'm fine," Mao groused, eyes closed. "Jus' tired."

"Milord," Ashiya starts, "you just seem to be—"

"Tired."

Ashiya pauses, struggling for words.

"I'm going to work."

Chiho smiles brightly at him. His heart flutters in his chest.

I'm in love with you.

It's hard to even think the words, but it's true. He's fallen deep. It's not just lust anymore.

(Though, his thoughts do stray to her long, creamy legs or her small, pink lips—)

"Hey, Chi," he smiles (grimaces) back.

"Ready for our shift?"

"Always."

She grins and grabs his hand (it's so small and soft and it fits into his perfectly) and tugs him towards the counter.

There's no customers that day, just the occasional old person who sits towards the back of the restaurant, and Mao is okay with this.

He's okay with just Chiho and him standing side by side, making quiet jokes and playfully nudging each other.

He's okay with Chiho laughing her tinkling laugh, poking his sides to make him join her.

He's okay with Chiho getting closer to him, enough so that she proclaims he is her best friend.

He's okay with Chiho laying her head on his shoulder in the break room as she nods off, softly murmuring a thank you and 'm sorry.

He's okay with all of these developments because now he's close to her without the fear of hurting her.

(She's so small and fragile, he'd break her with a touch of his pinky)

Mao closes his eyes and inhales deeply.

She smells like cinnamon and grease.

And he's okay with that.

(A kiss on the temple, a caress of her cheeks, and a whisper of I love you—

He's okay.)

A/N: If I'm honest, I have no idea what this even is.