Chapter Text
Iruma isn’t sure how long he drifts through the void, but it's calming and pleasant. There's nothing, and he is nothing, so he doesn't need to worry about anything.
Until light pierces his dark void, and he can feel his head and shoulder thumping with pain. He groans lightly, his existing eyes opening slowly. He’s greeted by a large, bright room full of loud colors but a comfortable mattress.
Where is he again…?
Oh, wait. This is his room in Grandpa’s mansion located in the Netherworld.
He blinks, his vision slowly coming into focus. He thinks he’s alone, so he places his non injured arm beneath himself to try and sit up.
Bad mistake.
His injured arm screams with pain, which ends up making him scream as a result. It tears at his torn throat and jars his throbbing tongue.
The doors to his room instantly fling open, making Iruma jump out of his skin. He instinctively hides himself under the covers, ignoring the ripping pain that jolts throughout his body. His heart thuds heavily against his chest and ribcage, and he all but hisses at the approaching footsteps.
“It is me, young master.” it's Opera’s voice. He relaxes, head poking back out into open air. He looks up into their eyes, and finds them filled with deep concern, their ears bent backwards with distress. Iruma doesn't like to see them like that, especially on his behalf. “Please try not to move too much. You’ll worsen your injury.”
Iruma realizes that now, and his injured arm tenses up from the pain of moving so quickly. He chokes on a sob to stop himself from falling into another fit of tears and hysterics.
“S- sorry,” he gets out, his voice weak and tiny.
“Speaking of your injury,” Opera continues and stands directly beside his bed. Their hands are held politely behind their back. “Master Sullivan and I did not know the proper treatment of human wounds, so we did the best we could with our limited knowledge.” They carefully roll his sleeve back, revealing red stained bandaging. “We know that it has to be covered to prevent infections, but other than that, we are unaware of. So, if you are up to it, could you walk me through possible steps to care for a human injury?”
He swallows heavily against the bile in the back of his throat, and nods. “Sure. What I remember,” he mumbles, and Opera nods in return. He lightly picks at the sheets on his bed, surprised by how aware he is directly after waking up with an injury this bad. Maybe more of Grandpa’s magic? “Did you clean the-” he blanches. Opera responds before he can finish.
“We used water to be safe,” they inform him. He’s glad they didn't make him finish the sentence. He’s sure if he would have been able to. “And a towel to dry the inside of the wound.
Iruma winces, and swallows heavily, almost throwing up again at the thought. “Did you do that to stop the bleeding?” he asks weakly. They nod in response, and he lets out a sigh of relief. “And you rinsed it after that?”
“Yes,” they tell him. “And then we wrapped the wound with tight bandages. Is that the proper way for humans? Or did we tie them too tightly?”
“No, they’re perfect, actually,” Iruma says with a shake of his head. “Since it's deep and-” he once more gulps against rising bile in the back of his throat- “and the skin was torn off from that area, we’ll have to let it heal on it’s own. I think.” He thinks for a few seconds, pounding head making it a tad difficult. “Yeah, on it’s own. But because that… chunk… is missing, it won’t fully heal.” He becomes light headed at the thought. Sure, he’s had a wound similar to this in the human world due to a rather angry raccoon biting off a piece of his hand, but this was completely different. There isn't as much skin around his current injury, unlike his hand.
Opera’s tail twitches. “What do you mean by that?” they ask. If anyone who didn't know them speak then, they would have thought Opera was indifferent. Because Iruma knows them pretty well, he can hear the panic in their voice. “Will you never be able to move your arm-” Opera’s eyes widen. “Will we have to cut it off? But we shouldn’t, right? Because human’s don't regrow limbs?”
It was a fire of questions hurled at Iruma at once. Which is surprising, since Opera doesn't often ask so many questions at once, much less speak so much. Maybe it's due to their panicked state. Their ears are perked and alert.
Iruma quickly shakes his head to try to calm Opera a little bit. It doesn't seem to work. “Oh no no!” he says hastily. “Nothing like that! I think…” he mutters the last part, yet Opera’s ears still catch it. He speaks again before they can panic further, “It wasn’t down to the bone so I should be safe. It will take a while, but eventually, the area will scar over. It won’t really be skin? I think? But it won’t remain open forever…” he presses his lips together in thought. He only knows all of this information due to his rather horrible childhood. He worked as a doctor's assistant once. He shudders at the memory of an injury similar to his but at a much worse level. “But, because it’s scarred tissue, it will always have less pain than now and grow tired and sore more often than my other arm.”
Once again, Opera’s ears press backwards, and their tail droops. “Humans are even more fragile than I'd originally thought…” they mutter more to themself than Iruma. “A demon’s flesh and skin would quickly regrow without any scarring.”
With a light chuckle, Iruma nods. “Yeah, we can't do that,” he admits with a slight flush. “I guess we are pretty delicate.” He chuckles again, and then grows tired when another wave of exhaustion hits him. He leans back into his plush pillows and meets Opera’s gaze. “Where is Grandpa?” He’d like to see him again, in his vulnerable state. He knows he’s beyond safe with Opera around, and he loves them as family too, but he'd also like his grandpa's comfort at the same time.
“He is currently at work,” they reply, tail tip twitching. “I remained here to care for you. He will be back once he has finished finding a temporary chair demon to take care of things while Master Sullivan is home to take care of you as well.”
Iruma’s eyes widen, and he can already feel the sting of new years glazing over them. “You two are really staying here with me?” he asks in a tiny voice.
Opera’s ears raise back to their full height, and they finally lean forward to grasp one of Iruma’s hands with both of theirs. They meet his gaze, and Iruma is blown away by the amount of love glow in their amber eyes.
“Of course,” Opera tells him gently. He’s never heard their voice so soft before. “We care for you, after all.”
A few tears escape the corners of Iruma’s eyes and he sniffles quietly. Opera releases his hand to pat his forehead and stand tall again. “Now, get some more rest,” they instruct him. “When you wake next, Master Sullivan should be returned and I will offer you food and water if you’re up to it. Sleep well.”
Iruma can’t turn that request down. He yawns, exhausted. His arm and shoulder throb painfully, but somehow, he’s tired enough to quickly fall asleep even through the pain.
He returns to that blissful nothingness.
Next he awakens his room is pitch black. For a moment, he’s not sure if he's actually awake, due to the darkness. But the throbbing pains across his body lets him know that he is, in fact, awake. He lets out a soft hiss through clenched teeth. The pain isn't as bad as it was before, but it still aches and smarts horribly. He can hardly feel his fingers.
It's still an upgrade to how he’d felt just yesterday.
Iruma slowly gets himself up into a sitting position, making sure to not jostle his injured arm. He looks down at said arm, finding the sleeve was rolled up and a tight wrapping of red stained bandaging covering his skin. He grows nauseated when he finds the bandaging to be lower at one point, most likely at the spot he’d been bitten.
He doesn't focus on that. His stomach grumbles and his throat is dry. He’s starving and feels dehydrated. Somehow, he eases himself out and off of the bed, his bare feet sinking into the plush carpet. He nearly topples over, so he throws his healthy hand out to catch himself with the edge of the bed. Ah, his legs feel like jelly. So it probably hasn’t been too long since he’d nearly been eaten alive. Most likely four days later, at the least. So almost a week, but not quite.
His wound probably will need way more time to heal. Great. He hates being injured.
Normally, in the human world, he would have already holed up somewhere so no one and nothing could see him injured. He’d wait for it to heal enough to the point he could move again, and then he’d go on his way. The state he’s in now, he probably would have stayed hidden in the human world, since he can't move entirely properly yet.
But it feels like his stomach is eating itself and like he's about to pass out again due to dehydration. Neither of these are a good sign. He has no idea if Grandpa or Opera are home right now, or when they’d come to check up on him. So, naturally, he has to force himself to get to the kitchen on his own. He wouldn't want to be a problem for either of them at the same time.
The kitchen is on the other side of the mansion.
A pang hits his injured arm at the thought of the long and perilous trek to find food and water.
He forces himself to start walking nonetheless, his jelly legs ending in a pair of lead feet. As a result, he stumbles with every step he takes, and uses the support of the walls to properly walk. Or, the closest movement to walking he could pull off.
With every step his injury throbs angrily, and he clenches his teeth, letting out a soft hiss from between them. Why couldn't it stop hurting already? It's ridiculous, honestly. Just don't focus on it just don't focus on it-
He falls face first on the ground when he misses the small piece of furniture he’d been reaching forward, choking on a cry of pain when his injured arm is jolted badly. A thin sheen of tears form over his eyes, making his vision blurry. He blinks rapidly to clear his eyes so he could continue walking, the tears slowly running down his cheeks.
It's fine. He's fine. Just get back up and walk again. He's hungry and thirsty.
It takes him way too long to get to the dining room, where he sees Grandpa and Opera conversing. Their backs are to him, so they haven't seen him yet, but just the sight of his family is enough for him to smile. He opens his mouth to call out to them, to say something, but of course, he loses his balance and falls onto his injured side. He lets out a choked cry of pain, instantly catching the attention of both Grandpa and Opera.
“Iruma-kun!” and “Young master!” are shouted out at the exact same time. He manages to push himself up from the ground with his intact arm, even as his shoulder and injured arm throbs every second with pain again.
Grandpa reaches Iruma first, crouching down in front of the human as he grunts and strains to get back to his feet. Grandpa reaches forward, his hand covered in purple as he casts a spell on Iruma’s injuries. And just like before, the pain fades, numbing like those shots he’d get during surgery. Not that he got much surgery. Mostly for the cavities he got while working with a dentist. He liked that dentist. She was nice.
“Oh, what are you doing out of bed, Iruma?” Grandpa asks him as he carefully helps his grandson back to his feet. Iruma nearly topples over to the ground again, but Grandpa holds his weight with a long fingered hand. “You’re still healing, you shouldn’t be straining yourself.”
“I agree,” Opera adds on before Iruma could respond, their ears straight up with their alertness. Their tail tip twitches, revealing their concern. “I was about to come check on you.”
Iruma feels his face heat up, hardly able to believe that they cared enough to stay with him as he recovers from an injury. His parents never. No one else ever did. He’s nearly overwhelmed with the small sign of love from his new family, and finds himself gripping onto Grandpa’s forearm for support, squeezing it tightly. They both are watching him with worry, and that only makes his heart warm further.
Is this a part of having someone love you? They stay with you even when you're injured and make sure you stay alright? Iruma could barely comprehend this.
Man, his childhood really was fucked up if he didn't know about this.
“Sorry,” Iruma says, lowering his chin to his chest. He's trying to hide the new gathering of tears from them, already embarrassed by how many times he’s cried in front of them. “I was hungry and thirsty. And I can walk, so I came to walk.”
Grandpa tutts his tongue, shaking his head disapprovingly. He doesn't seem mad, though. Just a tad exasperated. “No no no,” he says fondly. He gathers Iruma into his arms, taking the small human by surprise. Well, he isn't complaining. Just the walk to the dining room left him exhausted. He’s glad to be off his feet. “I know enough about human magical information to remind you that you definitely should still be in bed.”
Iruma blinks up at him from his position of being cradled in the tall demon’s arms. “You know some?”
“Well, of course,” Grandpa replies flamboyantly. “I studied a bit about human anatomy and such after adopting you!”
“Young master, please do not leave bed in your current state,” Opera says, their ears lowered. Oh no, Iruma upset them. He feels even worse now. “I check on you periodically… but I am sorry I did not do so early enough. I'll go make food for you now.”
“Oh, no, it's fine I-” Iruma cuts himself off when Opera leaves the dining room for the kitchen, their tail whipping side to side. He then looks up at Grandpa, his hair brushing the purple jacket he always wears. “Sorry to worry you, Grandpa.”
Grandpa doesn't say anything at first. Iruma doesn't mind it right now. Being held is an enjoyment for him right now, because of the warmth and comfort of being close to his Grandpa. Like this, he doesn't have to stand or walk, either.
And with the pain numbing spell Grandpa had cast on him, he relaxes all the more into the demon's hood. He's still starving, with his stomach clenching painfully and his mouth completely dry of any liquid, but being held by Grandpa made it a bit better of a situation.
“I am the one that is sorry, Iruma-kun,” Grandpa finally replies, and Iruma blinks up at him owlishly. The demon is staring at the doorway Opera had stepped through, his expression carefully blank. “I failed to cover your scent, and that put you in danger. And it should be unforgivable.”
Iruma stares for a moment longer, tilting his head to the side. Sure, that had been a horrible situation, and he’d probably have nightmares about it for sometime, but he just can't bring himself to hold it against Grandpa. He's a busy demon with a strict schedule, and already does so much Iruma. For example: he adopted him (see also: bought him). And gives so many lavish gifts to Iruma, as well as love, that a lot of the time, the human doesn't know how to respond, since most of his life had been loveless.
“It's okay,” Iruma informs him. He snuggles into Grandpa’s hold a bit more, grinning up at him. Grandpa’s gaze snaps back down on him, clearly surprised by this. “You saved me, so that's all that matters!”
Once more, Grandpa falls silent. Then, he hugs Iruma tightly but carefully, twisting from side to side at his waist. Iruma lets out a laugh of surprise, giggling as they go back and forth. “Oh, my precious Iruma-kun!!!” Grandpa exclaims, laying his cheek on the top of the human’s head. “You are too forgiving, but I appreciate it, even if I don't deserve it.”
With a huff, Iruma turns in Grandpa’s embrace to meet his eyes. “I think you do so you deserve it!” he states, leaving no room for argument. He hopes his face is strict at the moment.
However, he can't tell if it is, because the next moment, Grandpa is sqeauling as he once more hugs Iruma in a tentative embrace. “Yes! Of course my sweet grandson, of course!” But then Grandpa turns solemn, as does his voice, “But really, it’ll never happen again.”
Iruma feels his face heating up with a flush, hiding it against Grandpa’s shirt. “Yes sir…”
Opera steps back into the room and glares at the scene before them with unease. “Sir, should you really be holding him right now? He's fragile,” they snap, stomping over once they'd set the plate of food on the long dining table. Iruma giggles at their exaggerated movements, and at the dramatic yelp of fear from Grandpa.
They hold their hands out expectantly, ears lowered to their scalp. “Hand the young master to me, sir,” they demand, and Iruma chuckles when Grandpa gasps with disbelief.
“I can't hold my precious grandson in this fragile state but you can?” Grandpa says, exasperated. Grandpa carefully shifts Iruma in his hold, turning around so that Opera can’t snatch him up. “That- that's not fair!”
“I feel I will be more careful than you could be holding him, sir,” Opera points out.
“But I-”
A loud growl erupting from Iruma's stomach stops their argument, and the human’s face heats up with embarrassment. “Sor-”
He’s cut off as Grandpa hurries to the table with great speed, pulling a chair out for Iruma to sit on. Opera slides the large platter of mixed foods directly in front of him, and then offers him a glass of water.
Iruma’s eyes widen, and he quickly grabs the water to first save his throat and mouth. He can feel both Opera and Grandpa watching him. Iruma doesn't mind, though. They watch him eat every morning. Once he’s finished the whole thing, he reaches out for the food. But then he stops, lowering his hands.
Opera appears at his side with straight ears, staring at him with worry. “Do you not like this food, young master? I could make more for you right now.”
“Yes yes, you need to eat so you can heal better,” Grandpa adds, at his other side.
“Well,” Iruma says, his voice low. His mouth is watering now that it's no longer dry, and his stomach screams at him to down every piece of food. But, “I do want to eat it. Really badly.” He pauses to scratch at his face sheepishly. “It's just that humans shouldn't eat too much food after not eating in a while. Because it could make us sick. So… I can only eat… a third of it.” It hurts him to admit that, but it's a fact. Even if he does want to inhale Opera’s meal. He can feel tears in the corners of his eyes at just the thought.
With heavy hearts, Grandpa and Opera heed his words, dividing his meal to a third of what it originally had been. Iruma can't stop himself from crying, even if it was the proper thing to do.