This chapter might seem a bit shorter than the recent ones,
but that's because it was actually too long and I've split
it into two chapters, so chapter 10 should be done in a day
or so.
C. Casta�eda has given me so much great fanart for Kumiko
that I've moved them all to their own page at:
http://www.thekeep.org/~amm/fanart.htm
Please tell him how good they are so he can make more. :)
Also want to thank Orlean for his comments on this chapter,
as well as the previous one along with Kichagi, and everyone
who has commented on this fic since it started. Sometimes
surprised how much certain comments have had an impact on the
fic when I look back on it. :p
***
Kumiko the Demon-girl
(A Lime-flavored Original Fic)
By Ammadeau
Roy.Fokker@UNSpacy.org
http://www.thekeep.org/~amm/
Chapter 9: O.A.S. Phase III, part 1
***
The Paranormal Club planned to meet in their clubroom,
first having a good washing up after the disaster that their last
experiment had turned into. Nobu, having wisely avoided getting
caught up in the chaos, spent his time editing the day's footage as
he waited for the others to return.
He made two tapes, which in a fit of inspiration, decided to
label 'heaven' and 'hell.' The first contained all the moments of the
goddess that he had managed to capture that day, the culmination
of their two experiments. If his other recordings of her
magnificence were any indication, this tape would have a lot of
replay value. He simply could not get enough of the way she could
turn even the simplest of movements into a captivating
performance that dazzled the eye.
The second was of that bastard Ken. First, the times that he
abused the fair angel. Even though he hated every moment of
these, Nobu kept them as a reminder of what he despised Ken so
much. The majority of that tape, however, was of the painful
humiliation that the boy had suffered at the hands of the judo club.
It would help soothe Nobu's rage when he saw the two of them
together again.
"Good, he's not here yet," Satoru said with sigh as he poked
his head into the room. He was hoping to catch Nobu alone so
they could talk about their mutual problem: their obsessed
president that was likely to get them both killed. All of his plans
seemed to backfire anyway. Instead of the girls going after Ken,
they all ended up throwing themselves at him.
Satoru considered getting a girlfriend, so he could at least
be deemed unavailable. It wasn't that he wasn't interested in
pursuing a relationship, it was just hard to develop deep feelings
for girls who blushed deeply, squealed madly, and called him
'Sato-chan.' Just like his sister did.
He wanted someone mature, strong, and sexy like Nami's
new manager Aomori-san, but there was no way in the world a
successful woman like that would even consider a younger, child
idol has-been. Maybe if he hadn't gotten off on the wrong foot
with the captain of the judo team. She was everything he wanted
and at least a year older than him. Instead of throwing herself at
him though, she'd throw him off a building, and he already had
enough bruises.
Nobu had noticed the vice-president enter in a especially
furtive fashion, as if trying to hide from someone. Since this was
common with the super-popular Satoru, the shy boy ignored it. He
didn't envy his club-mate at all; one special woman would be more
than enough for him. He didn't need a dozen or more chasing him
all over the place.
However, he glanced up when Satoru said, "I think we need
to have a serious talk about our current club... situation."
"What do you mean, vice-president?" Nobu asked
curiously, mainly because a similar thought had occurred to him
during his editing. While he liked the idea of breaking the bonds
that held the goddess and that monster together, what he didn't like
was the president's way of doing it. Why should the delicate
goddess be forced to endure such harsh trials? Ken is the one who
should suffer.
"Though I'm the one who first suggested the path we have
undertaken, I think we both now realize just how dangerous the
succubus is and how continually antagonizing her is putting our
lives in jeopardy," Satoru spoke to the treasurer seriously
Nobu nodded in agreement. The goddess was the envy of
every woman who crossed her path, and a danger to any
relationship the moment a man's eyes fell upon her. He had also no
wish to antagonize her. To earn her hatred... even death would
seem like a mercy.
Satoru smiled to find that Nobu wasn't quite as deluded at
he once thought. There was a time when he thought he was even
worse than Eichi, but that was before their president seriously went
off the deep end. "Then the experiment must end, but our
president is too excited by his 'success' that he can't see the danger.
So there's only one thing we can do: we have to dissolve the
Paranormal Club."
Nobu was taken aback by such an extreme suggestion. He
had idly thought about it himself, but he never seriously considered
it before. He had only joined the club on a whim, but was
surprised to find that in a short time it had come to mean a lot to
him. He had people that counted on in for things, and would
actually listen to him when he had something he wanted to say.
Even if it was the right thing to do, which he wasn't entirely sure
of, it was something hard to give up on just like that.
Then again, Nobu now knew enough to form his own club.
One that would worship the goddess and try to find ways to free
her from Ken's domination. He was sure that with the captivating
image of the goddess, there would be no shortage of applicants.
"Let's give the president one last chance," Nobu said after a
few moments of thought, deciding that he still needed more
footage before thinking of forming his own club. "If he can give
up on pestering the god... succubus after one last experiment, then
the Paranormal Club stays. If he can't, we quit."
Satoru nodded. "Yes, I agree that we owe him one last
chance."
Only minutes after this pact was forged, Eichi entered the
clubroom, grinning from ear to ear. Yes, he was saddened by the
loss of the film which contained solid proof of the supernatural.
Even more so by the horrible beating and humiliation he endured
by the hands of those vicious girls, and then later the basketball
team who taunted and teased before finally agreeing to untie him.
Still, he couldn't help looking on the brighter side of things.
Finally, the club he had formed was actually dealing with the
supernatural, instead of searching high and low for the smallest
sign of the paranormal with no results. He was actually
considering holding a recruitment drive once definitive proof of the
supernatural had been obtained. He was sure that once other
people saw it, everyone would want to join.
"Fellow club members, now is the time for my final plan. It
is a surefire way to separate Ken from that succubus forever! And
also expose her paranormal nature to my sister! ... I mean, the
world," Eichi's voice rang out with an echo of supreme confidence,
suffering only a bit near the end due to his minor slip-up.
"I'll start my divination," Satoru announced half-heartedly,
thinking the president was even more obsessed now than ever
before and was a little afraid about what his master plan might be.
A fake divination should help to reduce the damage, at least.
"No need, vice-president," Eichi declared as he held up a
slip of paper. "In going over Ken's class schedule, I found that
there was one class that Ken has never once been late for, and he
has that class on this very day. It was the very seed which bore the
fruit of my current inspiration. Come, I will explain on the way.
There is much we need to do in order to prepare for our guests'
arrival."
With extreme reluctance, the other club members followed
him out the door. Nobu nodded to himself when he realized the
probably cause of Eichi's little speech. Seeing the vice-president
looking at him with confusion, he explained.
"Eichi wanted a tape on dealing with demons or other
supernatural creatures. I didn't really have anything like that, but I
did have a recording of an old play though, so I let him try that.
The people in the play tended to speak like that."
"Oh, what was the play called?"
"Midsummer's Night's Dream, I think."
Having gotten some distance between her and the defeated
demon hunter, Kumiko stopped to set her slave back on her feet,
taking time to straighten out his clothes and make him otherwise
presentable. He was a mess for some reason.
That didn't matter to her though, as long as Ken was
definitely hers. The demon-girl had proved it; asserting her
ownership by crushing the opposition. She was sure that normal
human females would be even easier to beat. Her earlier worry
seemed silly to her now.
The demon-girl was so deep in thought that it was several
minutes before she noticed the odd look Ken was giving her. He
was smiling at her as he sometimes did, but there was something
different about it now, something she didn't quite understand.
"Ken-chan, what...?"
Which was as far as Kumiko got, because the next moment
Ken leaned forward and kissed her gently on the lips. The demon-
girl felt the softness of his mouth pleasantly pressed against hers
for several moments, before he finally pulled away and said,
"That's for winning."
Ken continued to grin at the obvious confusion in the
Kumiko's expression. He didn't blame her, he was feeling a bit
confused himself, but at the same time strangely content with it. In
a way, she had gotten revenge on those girls for beating him up
without any reason, striking at the core of their pride by defeating
their unbeatable captain. It was a revenge he never could have
done, but he also felt an odd sense of pride over her
accomplishment, even if her demonic nature had given her a big
advantage.
Ken blinked as he felt a sudden chill from a cold breeze
caressing his bare chest. He looked down slightly into the grinning
face of Kumiko, who held his wrists, along with most of his shirt,
high above their heads.
With a small giggle, the demon-girl closed her eyes and
leaned her whole body forward as her lips made contact with his,
much more firmly than he had done. Soon, her forked tongue was
eagerly exploring his mouth while her hard nipples dug into his
chest through the thin fabric of her shirt. She seemed to have
forgotten to create a bra the last time she had gotten dressed.
Ken was surprised as his own daring as he brought his arms
down, and hers with them, in order to draw her closer to him, his
shirt entangling both of their wrists together. It was cold out, but
her body heat more than made up for that, and was much more
comfortable than any shirt.
Ken blinked again when he felt something tugging at his
pants, trying to pull them down. He knew that her hands were
locked with his behind her back, and he was currently licking her
teeth with his own tongue, so how could she possibly...? Ken
opened his eyes to see her long tail looped through several belt
loops as it tugged at his pants. He decided this might be something
better kept private after all.
Kumiko frowned slightly as Ken broke off her kiss. She
was so sure he was about to willingly surrender over another piece
of his soul, and all the fun that went along with it. She was so glad
she decided against killing him and taking all of his soul at once.
That would have been so boring. This way was much more
interesting for so many reasons.
"What is it?" the demon-girl asked impatiently.
"I was just wondering how you knew judo," Ken said
nervously, quickly grabbing the first thought that popped into his
head in order to avert her wrath. He didn't want her to toss him a
few stories in the air. "I wouldn't think a demon with superhuman
strength would bother with a mortal fighting style."
"Oh, I took it as an elective during demonic training,"
Kumiko explained, nipping playfully at his neck while still rubbing
her body against his. "Since I was very good at grabbing and
throwing things with my whip, I thought it'd be neat to learn how
to do it with my hands too."
"Sounds familiar," Ken said, feeling a bit uncomfortable
that the demon-girl was perfectly content to both hold a
conversation and continue to make out. If they could only find
some privacy, and a quick bite to eat, then... "How does that work
exactly?"
Kumiko sucked wetly at her slave's neck, giggling at the
popping sound it made before saying, "Demonic training is about
five years, depending on your designation. The first classes are for
all demons, followed by duty-specific classes. After that, they have
electives to help round out a demonic entity, or something. I never
really understood the reason for it, so I just chose the stuff that
sounded like fun."
"That reminds me, my art mid-term is today," Ken said,
surprised he could have forgotten it. That was one class he never
wanted to miss a single moment of. Ever since the demon-girl had
suddenly appeared in his life, it had become hard to think of
anything but her. "We still have time before it starts though, so
why don't we get something to eat? Food is fun, right? And you
don't want your slave to starve, do you?"'
"Ooh, but I want to do something even more fun right
now," Kumiko whispered throatily in his ear, causing her slave to
shiver slightly. "My body is burning, Ken-chan. Can't you feel it?
I need you to put out my fire."
Ken could definitely feel the heat rising from her soft form
as it rubbed up against him, slowly up and down. That wasn't the
only thing rising either. "There's a take-out place just around the
corner. They prepare food really fast so you can bring it home to
eat. Why don't we just pick something up for... afterwards?"
"Umm! My treat!" Kumiko enthused, marching off in the
direction he had indicated and dragging her slave behind her, his
shirt still binding their wrists.
Ken felt too relieved over not having to ask her for her
money to complain.
"Need any help, Ayame?" the angel-girl heard Natsume
shout from somewhere downstairs, where the sandy-haired girl was
busy breaking out the painting supplies. She had decided that
painting the interior of the coffee shop was a fun and easy thing
they could both do together.
"No, I'm fine. I just found them!" Ayame shouted back as
she pulled out a few old blankets from a box in the small upstairs
storeroom. Natsume had been saving them to avoid getting paint
on her wood floor, which she had insisted was especially important
with the polishing that the angel-girl had given it.
Ayame sighed, her shoulders drooping. In truth, she was
anything but fine. She had been given such a simple assignment,
to watch over a boy and report any sign of demonic activity, but
she had to completely lose control just because a former friend had
appeared. It didn't matter how... vile Kumiko had become, Ayame
should have had the self-control to keep her anger in check.
Yet in their infinite benevolence, the Great Chorus had
allowed her another chance, an opportunity to redeem herself. All
she had to do was watch over the boy while remaining in the
mortal world for a year, but so far all she had managed to do was to
come within a hair's breath of revealing her angelic nature. It
seemed impossible that she would ever become a true angel. What
was the point of trying anymore?
"Why so deep a sigh, Ayame?" asked a gentle and familiar
voice just behind her.
Ayame spun around in surprise, only to come face to face
with her heavenly superior. His wings were hidden and he wore
simple mortal clothes, but his presence was just as strong as ever.
"Nor--"
"Don't say my name," Noriaki commanded with a hand
upraised, his voice just above a whisper. "I'm not sure how the
Great Chorus would feel about me checking up on you, so it is
better we do not trouble them over it."
"You should not risk a reprimand on my behalf," Ayame
whispered, her head bowed low. She had done nothing to deserve
the kindness that others bestowed upon her. Their time and energy
should be put to good use and not wasted on such a... failure as
herself.
Noriaki lightly cupped the angel-girl's chin, tilting her head
up so he could look directly into her eyes. He smiled and said to
her in a kindly tone, "I've told you before how much I dislike it
when you bow to me. Always stand up straight and hold your head
high, Ayame. You're an angel, after all."
"Sorry, sir," Ayame apologized quickly and did as she was
told, still holding the thick blankets out before her as she stood
erect, legs together and neck straight. "Though I am only a proto-
angel."
"In less than a year you will be a true angel, so you might as
well start getting used to the idea," Noriaki replied with a grin.
"That's still uncertain, sir," Ayame pointed out, resisting the
temptation to let her body sag again. Realizing that her goal was
forever out of reach, it was hard to feel like doing anything but
letting herself fall to the ground in a heap.
"No, it is not," Noriaki told her with a trace of anger, which
immediately caught her attention. In a much softer tone, he added.
"Ayame, I am certain that in all of Creation, few angels have had a
fine a record as you have. You are selfless, devoted, kind,
intelligent, and always try your very best at whatever you may do."
Ayame blushed at being praised so; she knew she wasn't
worthy of it, not after what she had done. "But when I came
here..." she started to protest.
"What happened when you came to the mortal world is as
much the fault of your superiors as it is your own," Noriaki argued
with a spark of fire in his eyes. "We knew how confusing the
mortal world can be, yet we sent you, untrained in mortal affairs, to
face a demon no less. I believe the Great Chorus has other motives
in your so-called 'punishment'."
Ayame shook her head. "It is still my fault. I thought I was
prepared for the mortal world, but I wasn't and I'm still not. I've
only been here a short time, yet I've already come close to
revealing my angelic nature several times. My host shows me
nothing but kindness, yet there is little I can do to repay her..."
"Ayame, Ayame," Noriaki berated her with a smile. "Yes,
you made one mistake, but it was an innocent one. You thought
you could learn everything you needed to know about humans from
our records. In truth, they are much more complex than that, each
unique and special in his or her own way. And that is only
something you can learn by living among them, which is why I did
not protest your new assignment.
"One thing you have failed to learn is that most humans
hold a strong disbelief in the supernatural. In fact, most will go out
of their way to deny its existence even when it is right before their
eyes. No doubt that this too is part of the Creator's great plan. I
think you could walk down the middle of the street with your
wings spread wide and your secret will still be safe. Though I'm
not suggesting that you try that."
"Oh, I won't, sir," Ayame reassured him, nodding seriously.
Noriaki chuckled to himself. Sometimes he wished that his
prot�g�e wouldn't take things so seriously, worrying herself sick
over the smallest matters, but he guessed that was what made her
such a paragon of angels.
"As for your host, are you sure that she sees you only as a
'little' help? Does she say that you are a burden to her?"
"No," Ayame replied slowly. "She even says I'm in her
debt, but how can that be? I've done such small things for her,
while she's done so many wonderful things for me!"
Noriaki laughed out loud to hear the angel-girl's irritated
complaint, then smiled at her confused expression. "I can
understand your eagerness to help others, Ayame, especially those
who have come to your aid. This is what makes you such a superb
angel. What you don't seem to understand is there are many ways
that you can help humans. Sometimes you can benefit them the
most by doing nothing at all."
Ayame frowned in absolute bafflement. How could she
possibly be helping someone by doing absolutely nothing? If she
only did that, she would just get in the way and end up causing
more problems. That would almost be acting like a demon. "I'm
afraid I don't understand, sir."
"Then perhaps it is something that your time here will teach
you," Noriaki said to her, happy to see she no longer seemed
depressed. He'd much rather her start hyperventilating on him
again than to give up hope. "However, the most important thing is:
is this woman that you wish so much to help happy?"
"She seems to be so," Ayame replied slowly, thinking over
the moments she had known Natsume thus far. While she had seen
the girl nervous or embarrassed many times, she had never shown a
hint of sadness. The angel-girl had just assumed that she was a
very cheerful person.
"Have you ever considered that you might be the cause of
her joy?" Noriaki prompted softly.
Ayame blinked, then slowly shook her head. The thought
had never entered her mind before, mainly because in having done
so little for Natsume, it seemed there could be no way she could
have made her happy. Was it possible that it was just as her
superior had said? Was she helping Natsume simply by being
here?
"There you are, Ayame," Natsume said as she slid open the
storeroom door. "Everything has been all set up downstairs for a
while now. I want to get some painting done before I have to head
to class. What's the hold up?"
"Nothing!" Ayame replied nervously, spinning around to
face her host, then spinning back around to realize her superior had
already vanished. "I was just... trying to get some of the dust out of
these blankets first. Don't want to get your clean shop all dirty."
The angel-girl quickly patted down the blankets as a
demonstration, causing them both to cough by the sudden cloud of
dust that emerged and filled the tiny room. When the dust finally
settled, Ayame couldn't help noticing how dirty Natsume was now,
and she had only just taken a bath.
"I'm sorry, Natsume-san," Ayame said, bowing deeply to
her host. "I wanted to help, but all I've done is besmirch you and
your nice clothes."
"Why are you worried about that?" Natsume asked with a
note of confusion. "We'll to be painting, remember? We're both
going to get dirty anyway so there's no sense in worrying about
ourselves or our clothes. Which reminds me, we both better get
changed into things we won't mind getting splattered with paint. I
can lend you something if you don't have anything suitable."
Then the sandy-haired girl grinned as she pushed up her
glasses. "Besides, a nice hot bath can be our reward after a job
well done, right?"
"I suppose," Ayame said hesitantly. The things that Noriaki
had said to her were running through her head, making her
thoughts into a jumble. Though she still felt unworthy of
Natsume's kindness.
"No, no, no, that will never do," Natsume berated the angel-
girl, the smile never leaving her lips. "You have to look forward to
the prize so you can be enthusiastic about your work. You should
say something like 'Yeah! I can't wait!'"
"Yeah!" Ayame echoed, her voice a mix of enthusiasm and
confusion, holding up her arm in imitation of her host. "I can't
wait!"
"Better," Natsume told her with a grin as she took some of
the blankets from the angel-girl, holding up her hand to ward off
any protests.
Ayame could only smile. Natsume wasn't what she had
expected a human to be like, but her superior must have been right
when he said it was impossible to know them from the records.
Perhaps it was better to stop trying to second-guess them and just
do the best that she could. Understanding might follow, and she
was sure that with that knowledge she could easily become an
angel.
"Natsume," Ayame said hesitantly just before they reached
the stairwell. "Do I... what I mean to say is... are you happy that I
came here to live with you?"
"Y... yes," the sandy-haired girl managed to stutter out, her
face now redder than the angel-girl's hair. "Very happy."
Honami Matsuno smiled as she surveyed her tiny yet tidy
office. It only took a little effort each day to keep everything in
order and the room clear of dust and other debris, but she felt it
was well worth the effort. A pleasant environment freed the mind
from trivial matters, and besides one never knew when guests
would drop by, especially one special guest...
The art teacher blushed faintly as she walked over to the
small window of her office and the easel she had set up there.
Here she could paint before class while feeling the warm sunlight
on her face. It shone on her chocolate brown eyes and caused her
long chestnut-colored hair that flowed past her waist to shimmer in
the light. She truly pitied those who seemed unable to find joy in
the simpler things in life, instead taking them for granted. To her,
a single cherry blossom was an infinite source of wonder.
With her office taken care of, Honami had ample time to
paint before her first class of the day. She had no particular style
or subject that she concentrated on, simply painting what and in
whatever way that she fancied. She took inspiration from the
stirring of a leaf, a snatch of conversation, or a half-remembered
dream.
While her works were admired by virtually all who beheld
them, she refused to sell them, though she occasionally gave them
away as gifts. Her teaching job more than covered her needs, and
she possessed few wants. In fact, there was only one thing in the
world that she truly wanted, but she feared what would happen if
she tried and failed to be able to have it. For now, she would have
to be content in being left wanting.
A knock at the door startled her thoughts like a flock of
birds. Honami frowned at her bare canvas and picked up the brush
she had dropped before asking, "Who is it?"
"Only a few students interested in taking your class next
semester, sensei. We were wondering if we could talk to you about
it," said a young man's voice from the other side of the door.
"Just one minute." Honami wondered why in the world
someone would want to talk about her classes when the semester
was only half over. However, she had quickly learned during her
short time as a teacher was that the one thing all students seemed to
excel in was unpredictability.
It couldn't be... them, could it? The ones she had expecting
for a year or so to come, but there hadn't been so much as a hint of
their presence so far. She didn't think they would be so deceitful,
but then again she knew so little about them for all of her attempts
at research.
Most likely, they were just as they claimed to be, students
interested in her class. If they weren't, perhaps they would listen to
her reasons. If they tried to use force... well, she had prepared for
that eventuality as well.
"Hello, students," Honami said with a smile as she opened
the door, to find three young men waiting on the other side. They
seemed harmless enough. "What can I do for you?"
Silence was the only response as the three stared at her with
dazed expressions that she was, unfortunately, used to by now.
One would think that the entire male student body had never seen a
mature woman before. It was one of the reasons that she did most
of her painting indoors, as people stopping to stare at her was more
than a little distracting. If only he would look at her that way...
"Yes," Eichi replied, being the first to recover from the
teacher's presence, due to his absolute devotion to his goal of
proving the supernatural, and therefore humiliating his sister. "I
realize this is short notice, but my friends and I were wondering if
we can sit in on your class today."
*Oh why did I leave my camcorder behind?* Nobu
lamented as he continued to study every move that the beautiful
teacher made, from the way her long dress swayed around her
ankles to the way her lips moved as she breathed. While she lack
the spark of fire that made the goddess shine above all other
women, she would have been a worthwhile addition to his
collection nonetheless.
"I don't think today would be a good time," Honami told
him hesitantly, mainly because of the intent stares of his friends.
"Because of mid-terms, I decided to so something a little different
for my classes today and I really don't think they should be
disturbed..."
*She's got to be at least in her mid-twenties, perhaps even
older,* Satoru thought as he admired the mature, graceful, and
obviously gentle lady that stood before him. After all that he had
been through lately, perhaps she was just the sort of woman he
needed. Someone to sympathize with his troubles and soothe his
tortured spirit.
"Oh, it has to be your next class," Eichi insisted, and noting
the teacher's curious look, quickly explained, "You see, my friends
and I are unsure about this and want to see if becoming artists is
really what we want to be as soon as possible. That way we can
started working hard to improve our skills so we'll be ready for
your class."
"Well, I don't know..." Honami wavered. While she didn't
like the idea of observers in her class, she certainly didn't like
people watching her when she was trying to paint, yet she couldn't
deny the boy's enthusiasm.
"I assure you we will observe in quiet and do nothing to
disrupt your excellent class, sensei," Satoru finally spoke, bowing
to Honami. He idly wondered if a dozen roses would be an
appropriate gift for the privilege of attending her lecture.
"Yeah, you won't even know we're there!" Nobu added with
a rare show of enthusiasm. If there was one thing he was an expert
in, it was being nondescript.
"Very well," Honami gave in with a small sigh. If they
were looking forward to it this much, she couldn't very well tell
them no and crush their enthusiasm. "As long as you don't
interfere with any of my students, you may sit in on my next class."
"We wouldn't dream of interfering with them," Eichi told
her with a smile. *At least directly.*
"It's been a while," Kumiko finally spoke as they curled up
together in the aftermath of their mutual orgasm. She lay at his
side, resting her head on his shoulder while pressing her body
against his. Her demonic aspect had returned, without her larger
set of wings but including her tail, which wrapped around his waist
possessively.
"Since what?" Ken asked as he idly ran his fingers through
her long blue hair. It was something he was finding to be a very
addicting, and strangely comforting, habit. To feel those soft
strands encircling his fingers, caressing his skin like silken threads.
"Since we laid together like this," Kumiko clarified with a
smile. "It's so... peaceful. I think I'm starting to like it."
"Morning was only a few hours ago," Ken pointed out with
a chuckle, though a lot had happened since they had woken up.
"Well, it seems like it's been a long time to me," Kumiko
replied defensively, sitting up as she crossed her arms over her full
chest, hiding her nipples from view, while the blanket concealed
everything past her waist.
Ken immediately cursed himself. Kumiko was acting
sweet and almost like a real woman for once, and he had to go and
say something stupid like that. He had done so almost
instinctively, as if more afraid of this kinder demon-girl than the
one who had nearly killed him.
"Kumiko," Ken called out to her, planning to apologize, say
something that could bring back whatever had for just that moment
been between them. However, when those red eyes fell upon him
once again, filled with irritation ready to boil over into anger, he
knew the moment was lost. "Maybe we should just eat now."
Kumiko nodded in silence, throwing off the blanket as she
stood, now dressed in the black leather ensemble she had worn
when he had first seen her. Not even two days ago, yet it had
already seemed like a lifetime. Which Ken thought was a good
thing since his life expectancy was now measured in months.
Not comfortable with the idea of walking around in the buff
at the moment, even in the privacy of his own apartment, Ken
quickly slipped on some boxers and jeans. It was also more than a
bit chilly since the broken window hadn't been fixed yet.
Seeing that the demon-girl had turned away from him as he
changed, tapping her boot in impatience, Ken silently walked up to
her and slipped his arms around her waist. She started to pull
away, so he brushed her hair to one side and licked the tip of her
pointed ear, causing her to shiver and sink into his embrace.
"I'm sorry, Kumiko," Ken whispered as he planted kisses
along her neck. "I guess that I'm just not a very good slave."
"Oh, I don't think you're all bad," Kumiko replied after a fit
of giggles, baring her neck to him. "I'm sure that after some more
training, you'll be just perfect."
Ken shivered himself, though not in pleasure. He wished
that he could forget the demon-girl's whip and the searing pain it
could inflict, but a few words from Kumiko was all it took for him
to remember it all too vividly. He had to change the topic and fast
before she decided he could use a little more training now.
"We should really start eating," Ken told her nervously as
he pulled away from her. "We don't want our food to get cold.
Reheated take-out just isn't as good."
Kumiko blinked at her slave in confusion, but then
shrugged and nodded. This eating thing seemed to be very
important to him for some reason and she did want to keep him
happy. Besides, the demon-girl was looking forward to sampling
more of the yummy mortal food herself, even though she derived
no real benefits from it. She could have thought of it as her duty as
a Demon of Observance to sample all the things the mortal world
had to offer, but Kumiko never felt the need for such self-
deception.
Ken smiled as he quickly set up two place settings on
opposite ends of his small table. Food was spilled out from waxed
cardboard cartons and divided up more or less evenly onto the
plates. More going to the demon-girl since she had paid for the
meal after all. With the addition of chopsticks and tea, the budget
banquet was laid out and ready to be consumed.
He was starving, but even the wonderful aroma that arose
from their meal filled his hunger just a little bit, while wetting his
appetite for more. *Great sex and a good meal afterwards,* Ken
thought as he sat down before the still-steaming food, *life isn't so
bad.*
Only to blink in surprise when Kumiko plunked down into
his lap a moment later, though upon reflection he should have
realized this would happen. All he could think about at the
moment was feeding his hunger, and keeping his drool in his
mouth. It was almost enough to make him forget that his guest had
no sense of tact.
"Your food is over there, Kumiko," Ken said in irritation,
pointing to the food on the far side of the table with out-stretched
chopsticks. He was less concerned with angering the
temperamental demon-girl at the moment as he was with the fact
that she was in the way of his meal. With her in his lap, he could
barely seen his plate, much less eat from it.
"Don't want to," Kumiko told him with a smile as she
plucked up one of his pickles and munched on it. "Umm, tasty!"
"You stole my pickle!" Ken accused in shock. At least
when she had stolen his food before, she had tried to be sneaky
about it and not gobble it down right before his eyes.
"No, it was my pickle," the demon-girl corrected with a
smug grin as she took another one and swallowed it whole,
seeming to savor his discomfort even more than the food. "I
exchanged my yen for it. I just decided to be nice to my slave and
let him have some too. Besides, aren't you forgetting something?"
"Huh? What?" Ken asked as he tried to reach around the
demon-girl with his chopsticks for even a tiny morsel of food, only
for her to squirm around in his lap and block his every attempt.
"You promised to teach me table manners!" Kumiko yelled,
spitting out bits of noodles directly into his face.
"But I want to eat..." Ken whined, though mostly to
himself; he knew that there would be no way out of this. Though
he hadn't known her for very long, when the demon-girl set her
mind on something, it was nearly impossible to budge without
facing dire consequences. There was also the fact that she was in
desperate need of at least some manners. If he ever wanted to eat
in public without facing crushing humiliation, or keep his
apartment relatively clean, he'd have to teach her.
"Okay, Kumiko," Ken told her with a resigned sigh. "I'll
teach you table manners."
"Wai!" the demon-girl enthused as she threw her arms
around her slave and hugged him tight. She was sure that her
teacher of the slave training classes, which she had just barely
passed, would be surprised by her results. That reminded her of
something. "That's right! Here you go, Ken-chan. I'll let you
borrow mine since you don't have one of your own."
Ken glanced down at the whip that had suddenly appeared
in her palm, but made no move to take it. He didn't even like to
look at that source of pain, much less touch it. "Umm, what's that
for, Kumiko?"
"To punish me when I mess up, silly," Kumiko explain,
giggling at his ignorance. "Don't you remember how I taught
you?"
"I remember, believe me," Ken replied, very slowly
reaching out and enclosing his hand around the instrument of
punishment. It didn't inflict searing pain like he had feared, but
was still warm to the touch, like something alive. It even seemed
to writhe in his grip a bit, but he was sure that was only his
imagination.
Ken had no intention of actually using the whip. He was
holding it only because she insisted on it. He couldn't even think
of striking another person with it after the way he had suffered. He
also thought this was his opportunity to show the demon-girl that
people can learn without being tortured first, if only for his own
sake.
"The first two lessons are that you sit in your own seat and
you don't eat from someone else's plate unless they say it's okay,"
Ken instructed in what he hoped was a commanding, yet non-
threatening tone of voice. He didn't want the demon-girl to think
he needed to be trained how to train, but he didn't want her to think
he was challenging her authority either.
Kumiko nodded, leapt from his lap, and stood with her
back to him, making no move to take her seat. After a few
moments, she tilted her head to look back at Ken and said, "Well?"
"Well what?" Ken prompted in confusion. He mentally
reviewed his instructions and what he knew about demonic training
methods, but still came up blank.
Kumiko pointed to the whip he held with one hand while
gesturing to her rear end with the other, the latter she wiggled for
emphasis. "I already broke the first two rules."
"But how could you possibly be expected to follow the
rules until I told you what they were?" Ken replied almost smugly,
now confident he could use the power of logic to avoid the whip
altogether.
"Good point," Kumiko conceded with a smile as she
bounced over to her seat, sitting herself before her own meal,
which she stared at with wide eyes. She reached out with her hand
to snatch up a morsel, but then stopped herself and glanced up at
Ken, waiting for instructions.
Ken smiled back at her. He had his doubts at first, but this
could be a fun game after all. Perhaps after learning table manners,
he could teach the demon-girl how to act in public so he didn't
have to constantly live in fear of humiliation.
"The next rule is always use the proper utensils. For this
meal, we'll use chopsticks..."
Ken found that despite her selfish attitude and flighty
nature, Kumiko was very good at following instructions. She now
munched down on her food with acceptable table manners,
stopping occasionally for a sip of tea. Her speed was now just
under inhaling, but that was his fault, finding it difficult to contain
his own hunger. The demon-girl was still a noisy, and somewhat
sloppy, eater, but Ken was sure that any restaurant had seen worse.
Then Kumiko made one tiny little mistake. Ken had been
gesturing with his chopsticks while making a minor point on food
etiquette, not realizing they still held a morsel of food. Before the
pickle could fall to the table, the demon-girl had used her lightning
quick reflexes to snatch it up and pop it in her mouth.
Ken was careful to pretend that it didn't happen, continuing
to explain in hopes that Kumiko wouldn't even realize what she
had just done. Looking into her eyes, it was almost as if he could
read her thoughts as she stopped in mid-chew. *Where did this
pickle come from? I ate all mine. It must have been Ken's... I
stole Ken's pickle!*
"Ken-chan," Kumiko said, sounding apologetic as she cut
him off in mid-babble. Fidgeting slightly, she pointed to the whip,
which Ken had set aside on the table. He wished he had thought of
hiding the thing to avoid all this.
"Oh, I don't need to use that, do I? I mean, you realized
your mistake and I'm sure you won't do it again," Ken told her with
nervous laughter.
"You're supposed to," Kumiko informed him firmly. "All
training is done that way in Hell."
"Well, that's not the way I do it!" Ken nearly shouted back
at her in irritation. It really was such a small mistake, why should
she have to suffer for it? Why was he the one that had to do it?
Why couldn't things always be peaceful between them like they
were only a moment ago?
"I understand," Kumiko said after a few moments of
silence. Her head hung limply as she stared down with eyes that
seemed on the verge of tears. "If you don't care enough to train me
properly, that's fine."
Guilt fell on Ken like a mountain, but that only drove him
to anger. He was trying not to hurt her and she was sad about it?
Well, if she wanted it that badly, who was he to deny her? Maybe
then she wouldn't be so quick to 'train' him.
"Fine!" Ken shouted as he picked up the whip, then stood to
face the demon-girl, scowling in rage. The whole thing just made
him lose his appetite anyway.
"Great!" Kumiko enthused with a grin, blinking away half-
formed tears as she leapt to her feet, bouncing in excitement before
him.
Ken had to shake his head to resist the hypnotic allure of
her bounciness. He was sure all he had to do was whip her once,
on the leg or someplace where it wouldn't hurt too much, and when
she felt the sort of pain he had, she would realize how wrong
torturing another person was.
With a smile still on her lips, Kumiko closed her eyes and
waited for the blow to fall, filled with gleeful anticipation. Her
slave training teacher had informed her how much a person was
willing to punish someone when they were wrong was a sign of
how much they cared. Her old sensei must have really cared for
the demon-girl because she had punished her a whole lot more than
the rest of the class. Kumiko had made a lot more mistakes than
the others though.
Ken ignored the demon-girl's giggles, instead concentrating
on the whip he now held firmly in his right hand. He was currently
wondering how the heck he was supposed to use it. It seemed
simple enough, and he had seen it used far more times than he
liked, but still... Ken shrugged. Asking Kumiko would only drag
out the moment longer. He wanted to get this over with.
"Oww!!" Ken yelled in pain as the whip struck his bare
foot.
Hearing her slave's shout, Kumiko curiously opened one
eye to find him hopping around the apartment on one foot while
holding the other foot with both hands. The whip was gripped in
his teeth, causing the demon-girl to blush lightly from the
sensations it caused.
After a few moments of thought, Kumiko decided that this
was a human ritual of some sort that needed to be done before the
punishment could begin. The demon-girl's old sensei used to like
licking her whip before she used it on someone. Kumiko closed
her eyes, grinning over the fact that she had such a thoughtful
slave.
Ken took a deep breath as the pain subsided to manageable
levels. He glared at the whip, held in his hand once again, shaking
it a little as if punishing it. He stopped, however, when he noticed
how close the tip had just come to his other foot.
Still, the incident had taught him a lesson. He was pretty
sure he knew how to use the whip now. So with the demon-girl in
his sights, he reared back his arm and struck.
"BWAHAHAHAHA!!!" Kumiko suddenly laughed so
hard that the room shook with her mirth. Ken was blown right off
his feet by the force of her laughter. "That tickled!!"
"Traitor," Ken muttered to the whip while the demon-girl
continued to roll around on the floor, holding her sides as she
giggled loudly, tears of mirth steaming down her eyes.
"Are your sure you don't need to change?" Natsume asked
Ayame, back to her guest in order to hide her slight blush. She was
trying to act casual, but it was a little hard to do standing there in
her underwear, especially after what the other woman had asked
her. "I'm sure I can find something of mine that'll fit you okay. I
buy most of my clothes in bargain stores to save money and that
makes it hard to always get the right size."
Ayame shook her head and tried to hide the nervousness
she felt. Her superior may be right that humans have difficulty
perceiving the supernatural, but she was sure an observant person
like Natsume would notice the angel-girl's clothes rematerializing
around her. "This blouse and skirt are quite old now, so I don't
mind getting them dirty. I'm really surprised they still fit."
"Suit yourself," Natsume said as she slipped a T-shirt over
her head and quickly pulled up an old pair of slacks. "I'll just feel
awful though if I was responsible for ruining your clothes,
especially when you must have so little to wear."
Sometimes Ayame thought Natsume actually knew about
her true nature and was only teasing her, but then she realized it
was only her own bad luck. "No, no, I have plenty to wear! I'm
just a... good packer, that's all. You'd be surprised all the things
you can fit into a small suitcase."
"It's good to have a talent," Natsume told her with a grin as
finished dressing and spun around, holding her glasses in place
with one outstretched finger. "Shall we get started?"
"Yes," Ayame replied with a small sigh of relief. "Let's."
They had already set everything up downstairs, until
Natsume went to open the paint can and finally remembered that it
was a bad idea to splatter her good clothes with paint. Everything
had been cleared away from one of the walls, with any nails or
other imperfections removed while the blankets were pushed up
against it to protect the floor.
A dust cover had been put back on one of the tables, and on
top of it lay the unopened paint can, two paint rollers and
accessories, and brushes of various sizes for hard to get at spots. A
small step ladder had been leaned against another wall with extra
paint cans at its feet.
"Finally!" Natsume said in relief as the cap of the paint
bucket popped off, splattering her like a sudden summer drizzle.
"I've been waiting to do this since I bought the place."
"The current color displeases you?" Ayame asked as she
glanced around at the bare white walls, thinking that they looked
perfectly fine to her, though could use a touch of blue here and
there for color.
Natsume nodded seriously as she carefully poured a little of
the paint into the two pans for the rollers. "White is so... bland,
plain, and boring. I want a cheery place where people can relax,
not something that looks like a hospital room."
"So you decided to paint it this... pale yellow instead?"
Ayame questioned as she watched the paint ripple and undulate in
the pan, shimmering wetly with reflected sunlight. Now that she
had accepted the fact that there was so much about humans that she
didn't know, the angel-girl was finding herself intensely curious
about the smallest things they did. Perhaps these little things
would add up to a much larger understanding.
"Yep!" Natsume answered with a bounce and a broad grin,
which turned to embarrassed one as she struggled to keep her
glasses on her face. "It reminds me of the spot near my parent's
house where I'd lie on that grass and let the morning spring
sunlight warm my body."
"That sounds most enjoyable," Ayame said with a smile of
her own. She too had enjoyed feeling the morning sunlight on her
skin, relaxing in its comforting warmth. It was yet another guilty
pleasure for her.
"Yeah, well, maybe I am a bit biased, but I hope other
people will find it a comfortable color too," Natume quickly added,
embarrassed that she had said more than she had planned, but
relieved she had cut off that little story when she had, like the fact
that she hadn't greeted the spring sun alone.
"I find it a very pleasant color as well," Ayame said to her
host in the most reassuring tone she could manage. Natsume was
nervous once again, obviously doubting if she had made the right
choice. The angel-girl knew all too well what it was like to
struggle with self-doubt. "I'm sure that everyone else will feel
completely at ease here when you are finished."
"I hope so," Natsume said with a smirk as she rolled the
roller back and forth until it was coated in pale yellow paint. "If
this place turns out to be a failure, I'll be paying off loans for the
rest of my life. But I'm not going to worry about that now. For
now, I'll just worry about getting these walls painted, right?"
"Yes," Ayame agreed with a smile as she diligently imitated
her host, getting her own roller covered in paint while trying to
avoid getting any on herself. She soon learned that long sleeves
weren't a good idea at the moment, but managed to stop herself just
before using her powers to recreate them. Instead, she rolled them
up and willed them to stay that way.
"Good," Natsume told her guest, looking back from the
wall to give her first lesson in proper painting procedure. Not that
she was such an expert. She had done this only once before,
helping out her parents when she was little. She hoped that this
time she'd get more paint on the wall than on herself.
"It's pretty simple. Just stretch up as high as you can
without straining yourself, place the roller flat against the wall, and
bring it down like this. You want to make sure the wall is good
and coated. Don't worry about spots you miss. We'll get those
with the brushes afterwards."
"Like this?" Ayame asked as she took the spot right next to
her host and reached as far up as she could, slowly bringing the
roller down as Natsume had shown her.
*She has some reach. She should try out for the school's
basketball team... if she were a student,* Natsume thought,
impressed, as she noted how much higher on the wall Ayame had
managed to start. The sandy-haired girl knew she was a bit short,
and that her guest was of more than average stature, but still...
Natsume blushed as she looked down while Ayame was
still reaching high up the wall. Height wasn't the only area that her
guest was impressively... gifted. She decided that having the other
woman standing so close to her wasn't such a good idea if she
wanted to get this painting done before class.
"Umm, that's great, Ayame. Why don't you start on the
other end of the wall and we can meet in the middle? Then we
won't risk getting into each other's way," Natsume said nervously,
looking down at the ground while holding her glasses in place.
Ayame was too excited about her success to notice her
host's discomfort. The spot that Natsume had painted and hers
matched seamlessly. She now had yet another human thing she
could do, and another way of helping out her generous host.
"An excellent suggestion, Natsume," Ayame agreed with a
nod as she made her way to the other end of the wall.
Natsume breathed a sigh of relief, firmly looking away
from her guest stretching upwards again to stare directly at the
wall. She simply had to stop thinking about Ayame if she was
going to be able to get anything done. If she couldn't concentrate
on a little painting, how would she manage her mid-term? It was
an easy subject that she had studied for, but she doubted the
professor would like it if she put down 'Ayame' for all her answers.
The problem was that painting was hardly mentally taxing,
and once she got into an easy rhythm, her mind wandered away
from the job at hand and back onto the subject of her current house
guest. Try as she might, Natsume couldn't stop thinking of
Ayame's earlier question, especially what the reason was behind it.
'Are you happy that I came to live with you?' To which
Natsume had answered honestly, perhaps a bit too honestly. Being
thrown off guard, she had spoken without thinking through her
answer first. It was too late for regrets though, and her guest had
seemed very pleased by her answer, so... what did it all mean?
Natsume could only really think of one scenario. Ayame's
heart still hurt from her recent and painful rejection. She was
trying to be cheerful about it, but there was only so much she could
do on her own. So she needed to find comfort in the arms of
someone else, to help her get over her loss...
Natsume blushed and nearly dropped her paint roller. She
was flattered, very flattered, but didn't want to be used as a
substitute for someone else either, not that someone as nice as
Ayame would do so intentionally. Her guest's question had been
very tentative though, sort of feeling out Natsume on the matter,
which her enthusiastic response would no doubt encourage.
Having been in Ayame's situation herself once before,
Natsume made a resolution to do whatever she could as a friend to
help her guest move on, keeping their relationship strictly platonic
until Ayame was emotionally ready for something... deeper. She
just hoped she could keep her resolve from wavering.
Ayame smiled in joy as she proceeded to paint, up and
down, over and over, excited over her small, but to her important,
accomplishment. She knew that any skill she gained could possess
unknown value in the future, and she was also helping out
Natsume, a woman who had shown her nothing but kindness and
charity when the angel-girl had felt unworthy of either.
Thinking over this, Ayame's mind couldn't help drifting to
what her superior had said, and Natsume's answer to the question
she almost dreaded to ask. The only things she had done for her
host were waxing the floor and help washing the dishes, but these
would nothing in comparison to the way her host had aided her. So
why did her staying there make Natsume 'very happy,' instead of
thinking the angel-girl an obnoxious freeloader?
Ayame did agree with her superior that the most important
thing was Natsume's happiness, whatever the cause, but the angel-
girl was sure that if she could unlock this mystery, she would come
that much closer to understanding humans, and be a better angel
for it. No matter what her superior had said, she still feared not
being allowed to become a full angel.
Noriaki had also said, 'Sometimes you can benefit them the
most by doing nothing at all.' Ayame still couldn't understand what
that meant. She had thought that in order to benefit humans, all
she needed to do was perform some task that would bring them
happiness. The only problem was discovering the right task to
perform. Doing absolutely nothing didn't fit into her equation at
all, and the possibility that her thinking was fundamentally
incorrect troubled her deeply.
Ayame shook her head. The only thing to do was to go out
and observe how humans make each other happy and draw her
conclusions from that. Then she could come up with a new
equation, even if she had to start from scratch.
Natsume blinked as she felt something soft suddenly tickle
pleasantly at the back of her neck. Instinctively, she turned to the
left, smearing Ayame's descending arm with pale yellow paint.
Surprised, the angel-girl's own hand flew out as she turned,
bopping Natsume lightly in the nose with her paint roller.
"I'm so sorry, Natsume!" the angel-girl exclaimed,
completely mortified at what she had done for allowing her
attention to wander away from the task at hand.
"No, I'm sorry Ayame!" Natsume apologized profusely,
feeling it was a crime to mar such perfect skin, though at least she
hadn't gotten any in the other woman's strawberry blonde hair. "I
was just... daydreaming. I should have been paying more
attention."
"I was... daydreaming as well," Ayame replied nervously,
thankful she wasn't quite so absent-minded to say her thoughts out
loud like she had heard other angels do.
"I think we should quit for now then, if neither of us can
concentrate on the job at hand," Natsume said with a smirk as she
turned back to the table to put her paint roller away before it caused
any more damage. "We're nearly done this wall and I've got class
soon anyway."
"Perhaps you're right," Ayame agreed as she also turned to
put her roller down. "I believe I understand how to paint now and
could finish up while you're away..."
The angel-girl's words were cut off as Natsume, not
realizing the blanket had wrapped around her foot when she had
first turned, tried to walk forward, only to fall directly towards her
guest. They both tumbled to the ground in a heap, their rollers
sending droplets of paint everywhere.