"Hell is the Impossibility of Reason" (Shin Megami Tensei: Nocturne, Demi-fiend/Futomimi)
Title: "Hell is the Impossibility of Reason"
Fandom: Shin Megami Tensei: Nocturne, Demi-fiend/Futomimi
Author: Tezuka Momo
Recipient: Thief Queen
Rating: PG
Warnings: UST, minor blood
Summary: Futomimi acts far more human than he is, and the Demi-fiend far less so.
A brief note: since my recipient did not specify a name for the player-named Demi-fiend, I have gone with "Naoki," which is his name on the drama CD and seems to be the name of choice in English-speaking fandom.
He was strong for someone who had once led a tribe of mud dolls, who had been little better than one himself. That would be the reason the Manikins had survived for as long as they had, of course; without such a strong leader, they would have been even more vulnerable. And even knowing that, Futomimi's prowess in a fight was surprising to Naoki. He wasn't like Dante or Nyx or any of the other powerful demons who fought alongside Naoki most often; if anything, his serenity and balance put Naoki in mind of the long succession of goddesses-who-weren't who had joined him in fights and left him on the sacrificial altar.
This particular fight had been long and messy, because this part of the Vortex World was Yosuga territory. Chiaki seemed to be doing a commendable job with her Yosuga doctrine, because every demon they encountered here seemed to be stronger than the last. And in a twisted sort of way, they seemed to be helping her along with that-- every demon they had to kill was one weak demon culled from the ranks. Futomimi had observed as much earlier that... well, not day, because Naoki couldn't really call the cycles of Kagutsuchi days. It had been earlier, and he would have to leave it at that.
"Why do you fight?" He brought the subject up again when they stopped; not a one of them was at his strongest during the dark of a new Kagutsuchi, so it was smarter to find a location they could guard and wait it out than it was to stumble around blindly until something that was at its strongest found them. "You have come across many Reasons, but not given yourself to anyone of them."
Of course, Futomimi hadn't been there for the Amala Temple. Not that Naoki had gone with Isamu in the end, of course, but the thought had been tempting enough for long enough that he had done most of the work in establishing Isamu's Reason for him. Ironic, given what that Reason was. Still, Naoki wondered briefly what Futomimi's opinion, given calm as zen like all of his others, would be on Musubi and the work Naoki had done for it.
"Because there's nothing else to do in this goddamn place," Dante drawled, his American accent thickening his words more than his contempt. "I came for sushi and schoolgirls, and I sure as hell didn't get 'em."
"If you're bored, I know a few things to do." Kali sneered at him, making a rather amazing obscene gesture that only something with six arms could pull off. Dante stalked off, muttering something about crazy old bitches that soon degenerated into English too low and fast for Naoki to understand.
"And what do you know about that?" Naoki asked, sounding for a moment more like a fiend than half of one. What right did he have, questioning what they were doing? If he didn't like it, he would have to defeat Naoki for the right to either take over or leave. And even if he managed that by some lucky accident, he would likely have to content with a host of other demons; even if he managed to best one demi-fiend, there was still another and a whole host of full fiends who would all love to have the leader's spot. He hoped the mud doll would try it, and that was the magatama talking. Naoki let it, because one didn't stay alive by letting the human half overwhelm the fiendish half.
"I know enough." Futomimi was unshakable, even with claw marks across one bloodied shoulder (where was Parvati? It was her job to take care of those things, with her pretty hands and healing magic, and he knew she'd been with them when they stopped to wait out the darkness). "I know that you haven't chosen one Reason yet, because you lack conviction. Your human side wants to create its own path, but your demon side wants to follow someone else's. Neither one will let you listen to the other."
"You don't know anything at all, then," Naoki said in a low voice, thinking back first to Yoyogi Park and then to the Amala Temple and the Diet building and then, finally, to the events that had happened only recently in Mifunashiro. He may not have known which path he wanted to take, but he knew very well which paths he didn't want to take. "Don't talk unless you can back it up."
"Perhaps you should take your own advice," Futomimi murmured, and from anyone without that infuriating calm it would have been a taunt. Naoki growled, letting the magatama do the talking for a brief instant. The thing was slithering around his spine, restless and impatient as if it were going to curse him. They weren't anywhere near a city with a purifying fountain, so Naoki couldn't take the chance that it might reward him. He suppressed the demon within and silently thanked fortune that he was dealing with rational Futomimi, the only member of the group that might not seize on the hidden human weakness.
Naoki reached out and clenched his fingers around Futomimi's shoulder as the magatama shuddered and his tattoos flashed yellow in the dark. Where was Parvati? Off fucking Dante when she should have been here patching them up, probably. Not that he could fault her, because even the goddesses of the group were demons and demons worried about themselves before they could even consider that others might need help. More red welled up under his fingers and soaked the shapeless striped robe's shoulder; funny, that a Manikin bled red like a human the same as the two demi-fiends of the group did. It seemed wrong for just an instant, like Futomimi was pretending at the human heritage he had no right to. Between his calm words that seemed almost like a Reason (even though they never could be) and the red blood, it almost didn't seem like pretending. Even his hair was different from all the other manikins, tied up instead of pushed under the striped hood that hung like a sack over the forehead.
"If you don't like the way I do things, then fight me for the right to do them your own way," Naoki hissed, and then the magatama won the struggle and showed him its displeasure; he could feel the dizziness of an angry magatama's curse rising up in him and he sagged for just a moment before catching himself and straightening again. Futomimi remained silent and stoic, mentioning neither the blood on his shoulder nor Naoki's momentary lapse of strength. "Fine, then, but you'd better shut up."
"Even your own demons think as I do." Futomimi took hold of Naoki's wrist and removed it firmly from his shoulder. "Stop fighting yourself. It must be possible for the two halves of you to work together instead of against one another. Dante does it, and you've already proven you are the stronger of the two."
"Stop talking like a human." It could have been Naoki or the magatama or the pain of the curse he didn't dare show or a combination of all three, but whatever part of him thought it and said it was angry. He reached up and, on a dizzying impulse (stop talking like a human and stop looking like a human and stop bleeding like a human), yanked at the tie holding Futomimi's hair up. It tumbled down around his shoulders, straight and slick and gray-black.
"Stop that." Good, he'd listened and stopped sounding like a human. He sounded like a demon now, his voice sharp instead of calm like a Reason for the first time in Naoki's memory. "Letting them work together does not mean abandoning them both to madness." They looked at one another for a long moment, one demon staring at another, until the sudden flash of yellow to red broke the tension and Naoki took a jerky step backward.
"You're not well," Futomimi said quietly, his discretion so human that if Naoki's head weren't swimming he would have hit him, or raked his fingers over the bloody shoulder.
"Leave me," Naoki managed, the words hoarse and all too human. He might have enjoyed the tension at any other time, even sought out the challenge that presented itself when he spoke to the leader of the Manikins and acted on it, but not now. Not with the magatama fighting against him.
"I'll find Parvati." Futomimi stepped forward again and took the strip of fabric still clenched in Naoki's hand.
"She can't help with this." Naoki sat down on the ground, arms around his knees, and glared up at Futomimi. "Don't say anything to anyone."
"Of course not," he murmured, as if they wouldn't notice when they saw him the next day. If no one mentioned it to them, they would ignore it.
Futomimi left Naoki there, and Naoki hated him for listening instead of taking advantage of the situation. He scrubbed his fingers on the dirt, rubbing off the human-red blood until it was too faint to be visible in the dull red light of his skin.
Fandom: Shin Megami Tensei: Nocturne, Demi-fiend/Futomimi
Author: Tezuka Momo
Recipient: Thief Queen
Rating: PG
Warnings: UST, minor blood
Summary: Futomimi acts far more human than he is, and the Demi-fiend far less so.
A brief note: since my recipient did not specify a name for the player-named Demi-fiend, I have gone with "Naoki," which is his name on the drama CD and seems to be the name of choice in English-speaking fandom.
He was strong for someone who had once led a tribe of mud dolls, who had been little better than one himself. That would be the reason the Manikins had survived for as long as they had, of course; without such a strong leader, they would have been even more vulnerable. And even knowing that, Futomimi's prowess in a fight was surprising to Naoki. He wasn't like Dante or Nyx or any of the other powerful demons who fought alongside Naoki most often; if anything, his serenity and balance put Naoki in mind of the long succession of goddesses-who-weren't who had joined him in fights and left him on the sacrificial altar.
This particular fight had been long and messy, because this part of the Vortex World was Yosuga territory. Chiaki seemed to be doing a commendable job with her Yosuga doctrine, because every demon they encountered here seemed to be stronger than the last. And in a twisted sort of way, they seemed to be helping her along with that-- every demon they had to kill was one weak demon culled from the ranks. Futomimi had observed as much earlier that... well, not day, because Naoki couldn't really call the cycles of Kagutsuchi days. It had been earlier, and he would have to leave it at that.
"Why do you fight?" He brought the subject up again when they stopped; not a one of them was at his strongest during the dark of a new Kagutsuchi, so it was smarter to find a location they could guard and wait it out than it was to stumble around blindly until something that was at its strongest found them. "You have come across many Reasons, but not given yourself to anyone of them."
Of course, Futomimi hadn't been there for the Amala Temple. Not that Naoki had gone with Isamu in the end, of course, but the thought had been tempting enough for long enough that he had done most of the work in establishing Isamu's Reason for him. Ironic, given what that Reason was. Still, Naoki wondered briefly what Futomimi's opinion, given calm as zen like all of his others, would be on Musubi and the work Naoki had done for it.
"Because there's nothing else to do in this goddamn place," Dante drawled, his American accent thickening his words more than his contempt. "I came for sushi and schoolgirls, and I sure as hell didn't get 'em."
"If you're bored, I know a few things to do." Kali sneered at him, making a rather amazing obscene gesture that only something with six arms could pull off. Dante stalked off, muttering something about crazy old bitches that soon degenerated into English too low and fast for Naoki to understand.
"And what do you know about that?" Naoki asked, sounding for a moment more like a fiend than half of one. What right did he have, questioning what they were doing? If he didn't like it, he would have to defeat Naoki for the right to either take over or leave. And even if he managed that by some lucky accident, he would likely have to content with a host of other demons; even if he managed to best one demi-fiend, there was still another and a whole host of full fiends who would all love to have the leader's spot. He hoped the mud doll would try it, and that was the magatama talking. Naoki let it, because one didn't stay alive by letting the human half overwhelm the fiendish half.
"I know enough." Futomimi was unshakable, even with claw marks across one bloodied shoulder (where was Parvati? It was her job to take care of those things, with her pretty hands and healing magic, and he knew she'd been with them when they stopped to wait out the darkness). "I know that you haven't chosen one Reason yet, because you lack conviction. Your human side wants to create its own path, but your demon side wants to follow someone else's. Neither one will let you listen to the other."
"You don't know anything at all, then," Naoki said in a low voice, thinking back first to Yoyogi Park and then to the Amala Temple and the Diet building and then, finally, to the events that had happened only recently in Mifunashiro. He may not have known which path he wanted to take, but he knew very well which paths he didn't want to take. "Don't talk unless you can back it up."
"Perhaps you should take your own advice," Futomimi murmured, and from anyone without that infuriating calm it would have been a taunt. Naoki growled, letting the magatama do the talking for a brief instant. The thing was slithering around his spine, restless and impatient as if it were going to curse him. They weren't anywhere near a city with a purifying fountain, so Naoki couldn't take the chance that it might reward him. He suppressed the demon within and silently thanked fortune that he was dealing with rational Futomimi, the only member of the group that might not seize on the hidden human weakness.
Naoki reached out and clenched his fingers around Futomimi's shoulder as the magatama shuddered and his tattoos flashed yellow in the dark. Where was Parvati? Off fucking Dante when she should have been here patching them up, probably. Not that he could fault her, because even the goddesses of the group were demons and demons worried about themselves before they could even consider that others might need help. More red welled up under his fingers and soaked the shapeless striped robe's shoulder; funny, that a Manikin bled red like a human the same as the two demi-fiends of the group did. It seemed wrong for just an instant, like Futomimi was pretending at the human heritage he had no right to. Between his calm words that seemed almost like a Reason (even though they never could be) and the red blood, it almost didn't seem like pretending. Even his hair was different from all the other manikins, tied up instead of pushed under the striped hood that hung like a sack over the forehead.
"If you don't like the way I do things, then fight me for the right to do them your own way," Naoki hissed, and then the magatama won the struggle and showed him its displeasure; he could feel the dizziness of an angry magatama's curse rising up in him and he sagged for just a moment before catching himself and straightening again. Futomimi remained silent and stoic, mentioning neither the blood on his shoulder nor Naoki's momentary lapse of strength. "Fine, then, but you'd better shut up."
"Even your own demons think as I do." Futomimi took hold of Naoki's wrist and removed it firmly from his shoulder. "Stop fighting yourself. It must be possible for the two halves of you to work together instead of against one another. Dante does it, and you've already proven you are the stronger of the two."
"Stop talking like a human." It could have been Naoki or the magatama or the pain of the curse he didn't dare show or a combination of all three, but whatever part of him thought it and said it was angry. He reached up and, on a dizzying impulse (stop talking like a human and stop looking like a human and stop bleeding like a human), yanked at the tie holding Futomimi's hair up. It tumbled down around his shoulders, straight and slick and gray-black.
"Stop that." Good, he'd listened and stopped sounding like a human. He sounded like a demon now, his voice sharp instead of calm like a Reason for the first time in Naoki's memory. "Letting them work together does not mean abandoning them both to madness." They looked at one another for a long moment, one demon staring at another, until the sudden flash of yellow to red broke the tension and Naoki took a jerky step backward.
"You're not well," Futomimi said quietly, his discretion so human that if Naoki's head weren't swimming he would have hit him, or raked his fingers over the bloody shoulder.
"Leave me," Naoki managed, the words hoarse and all too human. He might have enjoyed the tension at any other time, even sought out the challenge that presented itself when he spoke to the leader of the Manikins and acted on it, but not now. Not with the magatama fighting against him.
"I'll find Parvati." Futomimi stepped forward again and took the strip of fabric still clenched in Naoki's hand.
"She can't help with this." Naoki sat down on the ground, arms around his knees, and glared up at Futomimi. "Don't say anything to anyone."
"Of course not," he murmured, as if they wouldn't notice when they saw him the next day. If no one mentioned it to them, they would ignore it.
Futomimi left Naoki there, and Naoki hated him for listening instead of taking advantage of the situation. He scrubbed his fingers on the dirt, rubbing off the human-red blood until it was too faint to be visible in the dull red light of his skin.