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Nobody Asks to Be a Hero

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“Sebastian.” My little master’s voice is softer than I ever remember it to be. The syllables of my name echo softly through the silence of the ruins. Sebastian. What a name to give a demon.

No matter. Sebastian will be no more soon enough and I will be what I truly am. A demon. And I care for nothing but the burning, aching hunger for the sweet agony of Ciel Phantomhive’s soul as I devour it, tear it to shreds, run my sinful tongue along its last remnants of innocence-

Such a precious little thing.

I am a demon and I am nearly shaking with anticipation as I kneel in front of him.

“Yes, my young lord?”

“Was my soul worth it, Sebastian?”

“More than you would ever comprehend, master.”


I reach out and slowly untie his eye-patch. My master watches me with unwavering, calm eyes. One blue and one tainted with my unholy seal.

“I apologize, sir, but this will be quite painful. I will endeavour to be as gentle as I could, but-”

“No.” He stops me, “No. Be as brutal as you want, demon. Etch the pain into me, it’s proof I had a life worth living.”

I smile. My young master, I would have traded nothing in heaven or hell or earth for a taste of your soul.         

“As you wish.”

I move closer to him and I place my hands on his delicate little face. There is a momentary flash of something in my master’s eyes, some depth of warmth- tenderness even. It makes me uneasy. I should no longer care, and yet, I pause. It stirs something in me I do not quite want to understand.

I can, of course, gouge his eyes out, rip inch by inch of his baby-soft skin from his bones. Make him scream and beg for me to end his life, just to make it stop. It will definitely make for an exquisite added flavour, a touch of bitterness to the sweetest soul I have ever come across.

Instead, I feel the press of my master’s small hand against my own, and all thoughts of ever hurting him dissipates from my mind as mist in the morn. I have the strangest desire to be gentle with him. Demons almost never feel the need to be sentimental, but just this once I want my master to know of gentleness before I ultimately end his life.

I look into my master’s eyes, trying to gouge if he feels any fear. He stares back at me, with those brilliant eyes of his. Unafraid and unflinching. I allow my human eyes to morph back to my own, and that flash of warmth reappears in my master’s mismatched eyes, but this time, it stays. Something in me stirs again, and it briefly numbs my burning hunger.  

“Close your eyes, master.” I tell him, because I am beginning to feel increasingly uneasy. Any demon would, it is not natural to show a creature as spiteful as a demon kindness like my master is doing now.

He gives me one more look before he gently closes them. And I momentarily regret asking him to, but it passes. I will be the last thing Ciel Phantomhive will ever see. The prideful and bitter part of me feels a dark thrill of triumph.

This is my small consolation for my misery. The ownership of souls. The ownership of something He created and loves. This is why I contract souls. It’s my pathetic, futile idea to cause Him pain for casting me out of paradise at The Beginning. I am, in fact, not forbidden to slaughter as many souls as I want to, but there is little fun in that, is there? I want them to willingly turn away from His light and come crawling to me. I want them to deny Him and choose me in his stead. That is all what a demon truly desires; to cause Him pain.

And this soul before me, Ciel Phantomhive’s soul, is mine

I press forward and brush my lips against his. They are warm, as I have always imagined them to be and soft just the rest of his helpless little body. My master winces slightly as I delve in. I can taste the edges of his precious soul. I am almost immediately overwhelmed by the taste of him. Divine and fragile and angry all at once. The purest of human souls, innocent enough even for His blinding Light. And yet, it’s mine.

I taste him again, deeper this time, and feel his small hands tighten against my arms.

Oh, Ciel Phantomhive. I will remember you, young master.

I feel him shake against me at the strange sensations I am bringing forth, but he does not struggle, my young master is never afraid. I move my hands to support his face as I prepare to consume him. At this point, I am aching inside and out with need. I am quickly losing my self-control. He is just so beautiful.          

I feel him open his mouth wider and I cannot stifle my growl. My mask is slipping. My eyes are blazing hellfire and I feel my wings threatening to break free.

I laugh at Him. The most divine soul is mine.

And yet- and yet-

I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t.

I am trembling with hunger and need, but I just can’t take his soul. I fall away from the boy’s body, panting and shaking.

Was this your way of punishing me, Lord? Why can’t I bring myself to eat the soul I have been craving for three long years? What cruelty did you forfeit me to?

"Sebastian?” My master looked at me with horror, and…. No. No.

Please, young lord, do not look at me like that. 

“Sebastian! What’s the matter?”

“I- I’m sorry.” I am still shaking with my desperate need, but this- this wretched part of me. This wretched, miserable, pathetic part of me I thought I had lost when I Fell. This part of me that I haven’t known since I was still a shining angel serving Him in His light, is wearing me down and is making me throb and ache inside with the very thought of what I was going to do to my precious little master.

“Sebastian, answer me!”

“I’m sorry, my lord. I couldn’t- I couldn’t do it-”

“What are you talking about Sebastian?

I am a pathetic excuse of a demon.

Before I know it, my young master was kneeling beside me on the ground and was glaring into my inhuman eyes with genuine concern. I feel his warm breath, smelling so sweetly of his soul, on my cheek and his small hands on my shoulders.

I shove him away. His soul was making my need almost unbearable, and his gentle attention was making me ache in a manner I have never thought possible.

“Please, young master, forgive me.”


But I am already too far away from my master to hear the end of his sentence. I left him on the island, while I am continents away from him trying my hardest to regain what self-control I had.

Why, God, do you still spite me this way? Was it not enough to throw me out of your Light to leave me to dwell in the darkness for the rest of eternity? Why then, Lord, do you have to show me this sliver of Your light again?

Why do you instill in me the longing for something that belongs to Your light, while I know full well that I would never be anything else but a demon?

“I’m sorry, young master. I have failed you.”

I am a demon, vile and wicked, and yet, the thought of existence without Ciel Phantomhive is almost unbearable. I am a demon, and in that one moment with my master’s taste on my tongue and his warmth radiating through me, I felt something I have missed for as long as I have missed His light.

I am a demon, demons do not love. And yet, beyond all reason, I do.

I am a demon and I love my master. My defiant, little soul.