Work Text:
Iruma often thought about what kind of bloodline ability he would have if he was a real demon. It would be amazing to have something powerful like Master Bachiko’s One Hundred Shots. Or maybe he could have something more defensive, like Kiriwo’s Barrier. Or maybe he’d have a power all his own—something that was very much Iruma.
However, in that moment, staring up at an intimidating set of double doors in the hallway of an ominous ghost castle, he wished he were Purson. He honestly just wanted to disappear.
“I will be out here if you need anything,” Opera reminded him, just behind his shoulder. Iruma’s stomach just twisted with anxiety. He wanted to ask them to go through the doors with him—if he really begged, they would probably agree. But he knew how it would look bringing his security devil to a one-on-one meeting. As much as he wanted them to come, it was not a good idea.
Not too long ago, the idea of meeting a demon would have terrified Iruma. Now, he felt very at home among demons. Therefore, there was some precedent for meetings with creatures he’d considered spooky stories in his childhood going surprisingly well. But this…
Ghosts? Literal dead people?
Truly, information on “Ghost Zone” was pretty sparse. He’d tried to find more information on ghosts prior to this meeting, but what he learned was not comforting. There wasn’t that much info on ghosts—but the Ghost King on the other hand…
His name was Pariah Dark. Ruthless. Tyrant. Unyielding and quick to anger.
And Pariah Dark was behind those doors.
The Ghost King had sent a summons for the Demon King. Unfortunately, Derkila was still missing. And that’s why Iruma was here.
It made sense on paper. Iruma was a high-ranked demon (especially for his age), he had the support of several members of the Crowns, he was the grandson of one of the Three Greats… honestly, there were few better options. And this was an enormous honor, practically solidifying him as the top Demon King candidate, as Azz had repeatedly rambled about in excitement. Even Razzberry and Leiji had agreed. (Although he was pretty sure they just didn’t want to do it. He couldn’t blame them; he was pretty sure he was also chosen because he was more expendable than a Crown.)
But there was one problem that only a few people knew. Iruma wasn’t a demon. He’d gotten very, very good at pretending to be one. So well that sometimes even he forgot he wasn’t a demon. But when he was invited to go flying with wings he did not have, or asked about a tail or horns he would never grow, or when another aspect of demon culture that he’d somehow missed came up… that was when he suddenly, painfully remembered he was born a human. Luckily, demons couldn’t tell the difference… but what if ghosts could?
And so, as the imposing doors creaked open and he stepped outside, Iruma prayed that he’d become enough of a demon to fool a Ghost King.
“Outside” was a relative term, of course. The sky in the Ghost Zone swirled with an eerie green mist. Doors floated above them, tethered to nothing and suspended in midair. Iruma tried not to stare at that, however, and instead took in the area as the doors swung shut behind him.
They were on a balcony, with nothing but a single table and two chairs. A figure, who had been sitting in one of the chairs, rose—or rather floated up into the air—before landing gently next to it. They were young, dressed in strange black clothes that resembled a jumpsuit. The stark white hair, glowing features, and undeniable ability to fly moments ago confirmed this had to be a ghost. But Iruma was confused. This person was young, so where was the king…?
And then he noticed the crown upon the boy’s head. Green and glowing, wreathed in unearthly emerald flames, it flickered menacingly.
Iruma hurried to correct his accidental disrespect, bowing—not too deep, not too shallow. “Thfkh s tkhschsky lhss slhk ths, k'shkxtkxt lhsth tx.” I humbly thank you for this audience, Ghost King.
He was proud of himself; despite his nerves, he didn’t stutter. Opera had drilled that greeting into his brain, making him practice it over and over, and it had paid off. He tried to hide his relieved grin by tilting his head more toward the floor.
“You’re… from the demon world?” came a… surprisingly young voice.
Iruma chanced a glance upward. Pariah Dark was… nothing like he expected. Under different circumstances, the king could be mistaken for a normal teenager. He looked no older than eighteen. Iruma could even imagine him attending Babyls. Sure, he’d never seen a demon who constantly glowed before, but there was plenty of stuff in the Netherworld that he hadn’t experienced yet.
Then the words themselves sank in. Iruma had come prepared with a translation spell pre-cast by his grandpa. But translation didn’t just make everything sound like Japanese—though he heard the original words, he could magically understand them.
That’s how he knew the king hadn’t replied in the ghost language. He’d answered in… something that sounded suspiciously like English. Iruma’s English had been bad even before he’d spent over a year away from any human languages, so he couldn’t say for sure. But it certainly wasn’t the whispering, eerie language used in the phrase Opera had taught him.
Iruma wasn’t really sure what to make of that, and it made him nervous. Did that mean the king had instantly recognized he was human, and that was why he was using a human language? He slowly rose from the bow, fighting to keep the uncertainty out of his expression. Was this some kind of test?
“...Yes, Your Highness,” Iruma eventually replied as evenly as he could.
The king scrutinized him, eyebrows furrowed. “Are you actually a demon?”
Iruma stiffened. “Yes, I am,” he answered—perhaps a bit too sharply. Unfortunately, the king had managed to tread on his biggest insecurity right at the start.
Iruma feared some sort of rebuke, or worse, an attack, but the king didn’t seem to acknowledge his tone at all. Instead, he shrugged. “You can sit if you want,” he said, gesturing to the unoccupied chair at the table. Iruma cautiously walked over and slid into the chair, trying to covertly examine the king’s face. He didn’t really look like he knew Iruma was a human. If anything he just looked—uncomfortable.
There was a bit of an awkward silence as the Ghost King just kept staring at him.
Finally, the king just cleared his throat. “The Ghost Zone is hoping to restore our alliance with the demons. We can discuss the terms and renew our treaty.” His words sounded stiff—practiced and unnatural.
Iruma had been expecting this. From what he could gather, demons had largely ignored ghosts until Pariah Dark’s reign, when the Ghost King had sought to take the Netherworld for himself. They had clashed, demons struggling to defeat enemies who had already died, and ghosts struggling to overcome soul-draining magics. When it became clear they were evenly matched, a treaty was made. Over centuries, this became an uneasy alliance of sorts.
According to Iruma’s grandpa, the Thirteen Crowns had feared what Pariah Dark might do if he realized the demons currently had no leader. He was not known for mercy, and they were unsure if they could unify the Netherworld in the same way to fight back without a true ruler, recognized by all. So they sent the next best option, which was, much to his chagrin, apparently Iruma. Not one of the Crowns, not an entire council, but a candidate for the next Demon King.
“Of course,” Iruma replied. “The Netherworld would be honored to make peace between our worlds.” He was feeling immensely grateful for all of Opera’s coaching on etiquette. Preparing for this had been even worse than the Deviculum, because saying something wrong could get him killed by an extremely powerful ghost.
But… the king was still looking at him strangely. The stiffness was flaking away, piece by piece, and behind was… confusion? Did he not understand why Derkila wasn’t here? Why wasn’t he asking about it?
“Sure…” the king said, squinting at him. Then, out of nowhere, he blurted, “How old are you?”
Iruma blinked. This question hadn’t been in his script. But in hindsight, it probably should have. He tightened his grip on the sides of the chair as his anxiety spiked. Of course the king was asking—he was probably furious that he was a child! Should he answer honestly? What would the king do if he did? Would he—
“Crap, I’m sorry,” the Ghost King said, grimacing.
Iruma felt his thoughts skitter to a stop.
“I didn’t mean to ask that,” the king groaned, putting his face in his hands. “I know better than anyone that appearance doesn’t equal age, I mean Youngblood is like eighty or something, I was just really confused because I thought the Demon King was ancient—”
“I’m… fifteen?” Iruma replied automatically as his brain tried to reboot. He wasn’t sure if that was the smartest answer, but he’d always felt like being honest was better than anything, right?
There hadn’t been a rule for this in Opera’s training. They hadn’t discussed what to do if the Ghost King started apologizing for some perceived formality faux pas…
The king lifted his head, peeking through his fingers. “Are you actually fifteen or like… just look fifteen?”
“I’m actually fifteen,” Iruma admitted, wringing his hands under the table anxiously. Where was this going?
Iruma was so on edge that he physically jumped when the Ghost King sighed dramatically. “Oh, thank god,” the Ghost King said, rigidity draining away and making him deflate like a balloon. He slumped in that fancy chair, and for a moment Iruma felt like he was back in his first days in the Netherworld—shocked that what had once been a terrifying, powerful mythical creature could look so much like a normal teenager. “I hope you don’t mind me saying this, but… wow, you are so much better than some stuffy old guy.”
“Um… th-thank you?” Iruma stammered, very unsure how to react.
“Listen…” The king glanced around at his surroundings before fixing his gaze back on Iruma. “I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but… I really didn’t want to be here. The Observants set this up. Usually I’d tell them to take a hike—maybe hide in the Far Frozen if I had to, Frostbite would never snitch—but when even Clockwork insisted, I knew I had to. I’ve been dreading this all day.”
“Me too!” Iruma gasped, and then he immediately clamped a hand over his mouth. That was probably rude! He shouldn’t admit he’d never wanted to meet him!
Luckily, the ghost just laughed. “Cool, glad we’re on the same page.” He held out his hand. “I’m Danny Phantom. Nice to meet you.”
Iruma grabbed his hand—please don’t shiver, that’s probably rude too, but wow he’s cold—and gave it a firm shake. And then he frowned. “Wait. I… I thought I was meeting Pariah Dark.”
The ghost’s eyes widened, and then he burst into even more uproarious laughter. “Oh man! No wonder you didn’t want to come! I wouldn’t want to meet with that guy either.” He shook his head as his chuckles died down. “No, he’s gone. Now I’m in charge… I guess.”
It took all of Iruma’s composure not to visibly sigh in relief right then and there. He supposed it made sense in a way that the request to renew their alliance had come now, in that case. This was good; it seemed like they could start on a clean slate, with a new Ghost King.
And his name was Danny Phantom. A very, very strange name for an all-powerful ghost. It sounded… very human. After being surrounded by demons, hearing what sounded like an American name was almost… uncomfortable. But at least he seemed pretty friendly.
Of course, if even half of the stories he’d heard about Pariah Dark’s power were true, then he couldn’t let his guard down around this new king. Surely Phantom had earned this position just as much as his predecessor.
“So… you’re not actually Derkila, are you?” King Phantom asked. “I don’t really know how demon aging or timelines work or anything, but I’m pretty sure I heard he ruled for a few centuries at least.”
“N-No, I’m not. I’m honored you thought I could be King Derkila, though,” Iruma stammered, still recovering from the shock of the king’s sudden shift. “My name is Iruma.”
Phantom examined him with a thoughtful frown. “You’re not the king then?” he said. “Who are you, his son or something?”
“No, nothing like that!” Iruma exclaimed, wildly shaking his head. “I’m, ah… a candidate for the next Demon King.”
“Oh.” Phantom blinked at him. “Did you beat up the previous guy too?”
“What?” Iruma said, baffled. “Beat—what?”
“Huh. Guess not,” Phantom said, sounding disappointed. “Where is he, then? Not that I’m not happy to get you instead—because like I said, I definitely am, but… it’s just kind of weird.”
Phantom had defeated Pariah Dark? The all-powerful ghost who’d given Demon Kings difficulties? Iruma resolved to be even more cautious with King Phantom, no matter how nice he acted.
At least this question was one he’d practiced an answer to. “King Derkila is currently on an extended journey. In the meantime, the Thirteen Crowns are choosing his successor among promising young demons in the Netherworld, and I was chosen from them for this meeting.”
“Oh, I see,” King Phantom said, reclining in his chair. “You must be pretty important then.”
Iruma felt his face heat up in embarrassment. To hear a foreign ruler call you important was a little surreal. “I’m the grandson of Sullivan of the Three Greats?” Iruma squeaked awkwardly. That seemed safer than trying to argue.
“Uh, I don’t know what that means but yeah, sounds important.” King Phantom smiled. “Seriously, I’m glad you’re here.”
Iruma gently inclined his head. “It’s an honor, King Phantom.”
Phantom let out a huff. He held up a finger. “Okay, first of all, you don’t need to call me ‘King Phantom’. I kind of hate that. Danny is fine.” He held up another finger. “And second, you don’t have to be all formal. We’re both teenagers, right? I mean… I guess I have no idea what being a teenager in the demon world is like, but…” He trailed off, shrugging awkwardly.
Iruma wanted to disagree. He could practically hear Opera’s voice in his head warning him that he was representing not only the Sullivan household, but the entire Netherworld. He had to set a good example for all of demonkind. But he couldn’t help but be curious…
“You’re a teenager too?” Iruma had known better than to make assumptions based on appearance—as Phantom (Danny?) himself had said, non-human beings had a tendency to age differently—but it was hard to deny that the ghost hardly looked any older than him.
“Oh. Yeah, I am. I’m seventeen.” Danny rubbed the back of his neck. “Junior at Casper High.”
“There are schools here too?” Iruma gasped, before quickly slapping a hand over his own mouth in horror. Not only was that insensitive—of course there were schools! The demon world had schools so why wouldn’t ghosts?—but he had to remember that he was on a crucial diplomatic mission.
Mercifully, Danny once again said nothing about his outburst and instead tapped his chin thoughtfully. “Yes. Well, I think so. I should probably ask, because ghost kids born in the Zone have to go to school somewhere, right? But, uh… no, I go to school in the real world. Um, the human world, I mean.”
“The human world?!” When their conversation devolved from diplomatic relations to comparing ages, Iruma thought he couldn’t be more flabbergasted. Apparently, he was wrong, as his brain malfunctioned for the second time in a row.
He tried to imagine it. He hadn’t gone to school very much in the human world—he was usually running jobs for his parents, and if they wouldn’t have gotten in legal trouble they probably wouldn’t have let him go at all—but he had been in a human classroom from time to time. He pictured this ghost, unearthly glow and all, dressed in a school uniform and sitting at a desk, surrounded by humans, dutifully copying notes from a board. It just… felt so wrong.
If Danny attended a demon school, then sure. He was a little strange for a demon, but Iruma was sure he’d manage to fit in. (Iruma somehow had, after all.) But humans weren’t exactly known for accepting the things they called “monsters”. Unless the human world had changed dramatically in the year he’d been gone, he couldn’t believe what the Ghost King was saying.
“They’re… okay with you going to school in the human world?” Iruma asked. Iruma wasn’t even sure who he was referring to with “they”—the humans, or the other ghosts?
Either way, Danny leaned back, tipping his chair to balance on the back two legs. “Yeah, sure,” he said. “I’m pretty sure the Observants hate it, honestly. They want me to learn ghost history and boring things like that. But I’d never give up the chance to see my friends, and they know it.”
“Wow,” Iruma breathed. He laughed weakly; wanting to stay with your friends, even if they were another species, was something he understood very well. “I’m—I’d do the same. I would never leave my friends either.”
Danny grinned. “You get it! It’s whatever though, they can’t exactly force me to stay in the Ghost Zone. Clockwork would back me up if they tried. And they can’t say I can’t go to school with humans, since I’m…” Danny’s voice trailed off again, the smile sliding off his face. His chair thumped back down onto the ground. “…Wait. Demons eat humans, don’t they?”
Iruma cringed. Unfortunately, that wasn’t even a point he could deny. “Most demons don’t even know humans are real,” Iruma answered honestly. That was probably the most diplomatic response he could give to a Ghost King who apparently actually liked humans without outright lying.
The king drew backwards, staring at Iruma with an expression that appeared almost… nervous? “Well, but… you obviously know they exist,” he said slowly. “So some demons know about them.”
Iruma nodded helplessly as his heart pounded furiously in his chest. Iruma could feel the air around them beginning to crackle with power, a feeling like nearby static electricity crawling up his arm and making his hair stand on end.
The king leaned back, body rigid, looking completely unaware of the way his power was splitting the air. Instead, his question came out halting, scared. “Would… you eat a human?”
Iruma blinked. And then blinked again.
And then the words sank in.
“No!” Iruma shouted, blanching as he waved his hands wildly in front of his face. “Of course not! No! I would never! I—I think it’s bad too!”
Immediately after the words left his mouth, he almost wanted to take them back. That was probably the least demon-like thing he possibly could have said.
However, Iruma’s embarrassing knee-jerk reaction of disgust seemed to work in his favor. Danny relaxed, and the unsettling energy relaxed with him.
“Okay,” he murmured. “That’s good.” He stared at the table for a moment, and Iruma dared to take the moment to exhale at the ease of pressure. The king hadn’t even looked like he meant to. Even just that fraction of his power was overwhelming.
Finally, Danny’s eyes darted back up, expression concerned. “But other demons would, right? …Eat, uh…” He grimaced. “Eat humans?”
It was strange—talking about demons eating humans with someone who also thought it was disturbing. In many ways, it was a relief. Certainly he’d met demons who had no desire to eat him, but he also knew that it was extremely normal in Netherworld culture. Even Opera and Grandpa talked about it like it was nothing. Iruma hadn’t realized how validating it would feel for someone to acknowledge how terrifying it was.
“…Yes, some would,” Iruma admitted slowly. Kiriwo’s hungry expression from the Deviculum flashed in his mind, and he shuddered. “Demons don’t really interact with humans, but… if they did…” He didn’t really want to finish his sentence.
Danny frowned. “But that’s… messed up. Right? Like…” His lips curled in disgust. “Are you guys… like, are they aware that humans are actual people? I mean…” He sat up, and then pointed accusatorily at Iruma, who froze at his sudden inclusion. “Like you! You look so normal. You literally could be a human. Isn’t it basically cannibalism?”
Iruma fought back a sense of vague, distant panic growing in his chest, spurred by both the potential diplomatic disaster he had on his hands and the possibility that this ghost might figure out he wasn’t a demon at all.
“I just don’t get it!” The full force of the Ghost King’s uncanny glowing eyes landed on Iruma, and he swallowed thickly. The king clenched his fists tightly on the table, white gloves crinkling with the force. “How are you okay with that?”
It was a fair question, and one Iruma realized he hadn’t thought about in a long time. In his early days in the Netherworld, it had been at the forefront of his mind: was it okay for him to befriend demons who might eat him if they knew his true nature? But it had been so long, and he’d already accepted long ago that he wanted to stay in the Netherworld, no matter the consequences. So why did he want that, if demons were so horrible?
He opened his mouth, and he realized he knew the answer.
“I’m not,” Iruma said, raising his chin slightly. “But there are demons who care about humans. And they would protect them, too.” The king’s clearly frustrated gaze met his own. “I care about the Netherworld because I know there are demons there who are more than just monsters. And… I’m not… I can’t do anything now, but…” He squeezed his eyes shut, and his next words came out in a rush. “I-If I had anything to say about it, I would want everyone to feel welcome in the Netherworld. Including humans. Including ghosts, even! I know it’s greedy, but… I also know it’s possible. So, please, King Danny.” Iruma breathed in deeply, steeling himself and opening his eyes. “I know that part of our world is wrong. But if I ever become someone who has the power to change that… I will.”
Iruma didn’t dare to move as he waited for the king’s reaction, keeping his gaze steady despite his nerves. His fingers itched for the feathers he had hidden on his belt. If the king determined his answer wasn’t enough, Iruma had come prepared to use his bow, as unlikely as his odds of winning a real fight might be.
There was a long pause as King Danny stared at Iruma, unblinking. But, eventually, he huffed dramatically, slumping in his chair. “Yeah,” he mumbled. “Sorry. I know you already said you don’t like it. I just… it’s gross.”
Iruma released the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, tension draining away. “I understand,” he said sincerely. “I… I sometimes forget how scary it was when I first… um, when I first heard about eating humans.” Which was crazy, now that he thought about it. When had something so existentially horrifying become so normal? When was the last time he’d actually feared being eaten?
Danny sighed. “I’m just glad you agree with me, I guess. I don’t… I don’t think I could have kept my cool if someone was here trying to convince me that it was okay.” He laughed humorlessly. “I probably would’ve caused a full-out interdimensional war. Sam would’ve killed me.”
Iruma briefly thought it was weird for a ghost to use that turn of phrase, considering they were already dead, but he chalked it up to translation magic weirdness.
Danny’s gaze fell to the table, and then his eyes widened. “Wait…” He picked up the documents resting there. “I can change the treaty, right?” He slapped them back down on the table. “New rule: if we do this alliance thing, demons have to stop eating humans.”
Iruma’s brows shot up in surprise. “Um… okay,” he breathed. “I… yeah. I support that.”
Iruma would never have guessed that he would be leaving this meeting with the possibility of making the Netherworld personally safer for himself, but he wasn’t complaining. With the Ghost King’s demand in place, it was very possible that he could get some legal protection. He wasn’t holding his breath or anything—eating humans was thoroughly ingrained in demon culture, and that wasn’t something that could change overnight. Besides, he couldn’t really see them implementing a rule that demons couldn’t eat creatures that, as far as most knew, didn’t even exist. But it was a start.
“They force me to do king stuff,” Danny muttered, drumming his fingertips on the table. “I might as well take advantage of it, right?” He pushed the papers on the table closer to Iruma. “I, uh, I guess it’s time I give you this anyway. You might’ve guessed, but this is the treaty the Observants made. They told me to let you guys look it over. We could talk about it now, but I say you should just read it later with all the other big important people in your world.”
Iruma squinted at the page. He immediately recognized the letters—human letters. “Is this written in… English?” he asked before he could stop himself.
Danny leaned over and scanned the page—weird, since he was the one who handed it to him to begin with. “Oh, uh, yeah. I think they did that because k’shkst—that’s the ghosts’ language—doesn’t have one writing system, so they just used my native language so that I could read it. Don’t you have some kind of translation magic or something?”
Iruma put the document back down slowly. “Um, yes, but it only works with speech.” Yet another oversight that none of them had considered. Of course they’d want him to look at documents or something. Oh, well; it wasn’t like he had real power right now, anyway.
Danny looked concerned. “Uh, is that gonna be a problem then? Should we get someone to translate it?”
“No, no, it’s fine,” Iruma said, waving him off. “There is a spell to translate text, I just… can’t use it right now.”
Danny raised an eyebrow. “Why not?”
Iruma had been really hoping he wouldn’t ask that. “I…” He glanced away and mumbled, “I haven’t learned it yet.”
Danny looked at him. Then he looked back at the document. And then he burst out laughing. “Oh, right! You’re, like, actually a kid!”
Iruma crossed his arms, trying not to pout. It was embarrassing enough admitting it—he didn’t want to be teased about it, too!
Danny noticed his expression and tried to quell his laughter. “Sorry, sorry,” he chuckled. “It’s just… it’s relatable. There’s still stuff I struggle with too, you know? Like, I still don’t really have teleportation down. And telekinesis is still hard for big things. It totally makes sense that demons would have to learn their stuff too.” He grinned and lowered his voice, conspiratorially leaning in. “To be honest? I totally didn’t read that treaty either. Not because I couldn’t, it was just lots and lots of fancy political talk and it seemed super boring so I just skimmed it and pretended I knew what they were talking about. We can leave that boring stuff to the adults, right?”
Iruma couldn’t help but relax and let out a relieved laugh. Going in, he’d heard only terrifying stories about the Ghost King. There weren’t good stories about the kings even before Pariah Dark, as little documentation as there was. Every single one of them had been described as merciless and cold.
But honestly? King Danny Phantom seemed… nice.
“You’re not what I was expecting,” Iruma said softly, looking away. Part of him felt a little bad saying that, but so far the king hadn’t cared about rules or manners or anything of the sort.
Danny offered a lopsided grin in response. “I mean, you’re also nothing like what I expected a demon to be. Let alone a Demon King,” he commented.
“Ah, well I’m not—” Iruma tried to remind him, but he was cut off.
“If they sent you, you’re basically the Demon King, right? You said you were a candidate?”
Iruma felt the familiar weight of his current path press on him. Becoming the Demon King was never something he’d wanted. It wasn’t something he’d fought for, certainly not in the same way as he fought to protect his life in the Netherworld. It wasn’t even something he worked toward in the way that he had worked to raise his rank. This Demon King candidacy had just fallen into his lap, and he still had no idea how he felt about it.
He couldn’t help but think back to that conversation with his grandpa in the carriage after the Thirteen Crowns’ dinner. His grandpa had told him that he didn’t have to become the Demon King—it was just another option for him. But for something that was just an option and not a real career, Iruma sure had gone far down the path.
He wasn’t so sure he could even see the beginning anymore, or if he could turn back. He didn’t know if he wanted to.
“I… don’t know.” Iruma stared at his lap, fiddling with his ring.
Danny eyed him thoughtfully before glancing away. “Um, you know…” He trailed off, sounding almost embarrassed. “I didn’t… actually want to become the Ghost King. It was an accident. I was just trying to save my town.”
“Really?” Iruma said, sitting up straighter. He opened his mouth to ask how, maybe to say that he hadn’t thought it was possible to become a leader by accident—and then he thought of his first day with Azz. He promptly shut his mouth.
“Yeah.” Danny chuckled dully. “Now instead of being a normal kid, I have to deal with… rules and politics and… stupid meetings!” His eyes snapped back to Iruma. “Um, no offense.”
Iruma’s gaze fell to the treaty on the table in front of them. “I’m not really sure this is what I want, either,” he murmured.
Danny frowned, leaning forward with a serious expression. “Look,” he said firmly. “As someone who didn’t have a choice…if you wanna bail, then bail now. Don’t wait until it’s too late.”
“I know,” Iruma said softly. “No one’s forcing me into this.” Well, maybe Azz was a little overly-insistent sometimes, but Iruma knew his soulmate was just excited. If Iruma told him that he didn’t want to be Demon King, Azz would support him fully, he was sure of it.
Danny tapped the table in front of Iruma, startling him out of his thoughts. Iruma looked up to see the king staring more at his shoulder, lost in thought, than directly at him. “Listen, dude… being a king sucks. And that’s coming from someone who barely does any of the real work to begin with. But if I didn’t take the job, someone else would, and literally no one would have liked the other option.” Danny muttered something about “fruit loops” under his breath. Iruma wondered if the translation spell was failing or something, because that didn’t really make any sense. “So, like, I’m bad at my job. You, though?" He jabbed a finger toward Iruma. “I think you’d be good at it.”
Iruma started. “What?”
Danny shrugged. “I mean. I’ve only known you for like, ten minutes, but at least you don’t want to eat people. That’s good enough for me.”
That elicited a sheepish laugh from Iruma. “That’s… kind of you, King Danny.”
“I mean, I also don’t know how demon politics work,” Danny continued. “Annnd I also might just be saying that because I’d rather work more with you on this stupid alliance than some ancient baby-eating monster, or whoever you have in the demon world. But either way.” He shrugged. “My opinion doesn’t matter. Just because you’d be good at it doesn’t mean you have to do it.”
Iruma had been asked before what kind of Netherworld he would create if he were king. And he knew he’d been asked about his own ambitions.
He wanted to live in the Netherworld. He wanted to be a demon.
The king part didn’t matter. But if that was what it took to fulfill those wishes? He’d do it in a heartbeat.
“…Thank you,” Iruma said, smiling and bowing his head slightly.
Danny blinked. “I don’t think I really did anything, but… you’re welcome?”
They stared quietly at their surroundings for a moment, the swirling of the Ghost Zone’s sky reflecting on the table’s surface.
Danny groaned suddenly, breaking the silence. He thunked his head on the surface of the table dramatically. “I just remembered I have English homework due tomorrow,” he mumbled.
Iruma couldn’t stifle the surprised giggle that tore out of him. “I’m sorry,” he said, trying to offer some sympathy through peals of laughter.
Danny glanced back up at him. “Demons have magic, right? Can you magically write a report about Frankenstein for me?”
Though it was through several layers of translation, something about that sparked a memory for Iruma. “Is that the book about a monster?”
“I—yeah!” After how often Iruma had been caught off guard in this conversation, it kind of felt good to see Danny splutter. “Don’t tell me they have Frankenstein in the demon world too! Oh my god, if Lancer ever hears that English classics are even studied in other dimensions…”
Iruma laughed and shook his head. “No, I heard about it somewhere else. But I’ve never read it, sorry.”
“Well. That makes two of us.” Danny floated back up, once again hovering in the air just above his chair. Iruma took that as his cue to stand as well. “We should do this again sometime.”
“Really?” Iruma’s eyes widened. He’d enjoyed talking with the young king, but he’d never expected that to be reciprocated.
“Yeah, sure, why not?” He shrugged. “I’m gonna have to get into more talks with demons anyway if we’re making this alliance thing work. I’d rather talk with you than anyone else.”
“Thank you,” Iruma said, once again bowing. “I’d love to, King Phantom. Ah… King Danny.”
“No, when I said Danny was fine, I meant just Danny, seriously. Drop the title.”
oOoOo
As promised, Opera was waiting for him outside the double doors. Their ears perked up as the heavy doors slammed shut, echoing in the eerily empty hallway. “Welcome back,” they greeted. They quickly scanned Iruma’s appearance—clean and uninjured, papers clutched in hand, cheerful smile splitting his face—and gave a nod of approval. “Seems like it went well.”
“Yeah!” Iruma beamed, shaking the documents he held excitedly. “The Ghost King was really, really nice. Did you know they have a new king? And he wants to meet with me again!”
If Opera was surprised, the only evidence was their ears twitching. “I’m happy to hear it. I know how nervous you were.” They paused. “That said, please have caution, Master Iruma. The Ghost King is not someone to take lightly.”
Iruma’s enthusiasm dwindled slightly, but he didn’t slump. He adjusted the treaty in his hand, glancing down at the English text he still could not read.
“I know. I haven’t forgotten. But…” He turned back toward the door. “We… actually have a lot in common.” He hesitated, and then he brightened. “And I already became friends with demons… why not a ghost, too?”