Chapter Text
For his entire life, Iruma had been a complete and total pushover. He couldn’t help it- that was just the way he was raised. (Actually, “raised” was a strong word, Iruma had essentially raised himself-) His parents refused to anything for themselves, so it was up to Iruma to work all the jobs, do everything around the house and learn to survive in any way he could. He never said no to anybody either, no matter how unreasonable a request was made. Iruma knew that was bad, he knew that people would take shameless advantage of him, but this wasn’t a…habit…he could see himself breaking free of anytime soon.
(A little while after arriving at the Netherworld, after settling in, Iruma hesitantly asked around and learned that, apparently, even actual literal demons were appalled at the way his parents treated him.)
(He didn’t know what that said about his parents, but-)
(Actually, wait, no. Iruma knew exactly what it meant.)
(Ironically enough, deciding to sell him may have been the one good thing his parents had done for him in the end.)
Anyway, taking all of this into account, it stands to reason that Iruma would also know that something was wrong with him the moment he woke up and realised that, actually, none of that bothered him at all anymore.
As soon as he woke up, Iruma realised that something strange had happened to him.
While usually he wouldn’t dream of being even slightly rude to or annoyed with his adoptive grandfather or Opera or anybody at all no matter how rude they were first, today he felt-
Well.
He felt different, that was for sure.
It wasn’t a bad change exactly, or even technically any kind of real change to his personality. No, Iruma just didn’t feel any of the usual anxiety, fear, or desperate need to please. All the things that had remained as a scar from his upbringing were just… gone.
Which should have been impossible.
Even if he eventually did manage to change, it would take a lot of time and a lot of effort. Nobody could just wake up one day free of all their hang-ups, that wasn’t how literally anything in life worked. It was painfully obvious that something else was at play here. And considering that Iruma was literally in the Netherworld, the only explanation that made sense was magical interference.
Iruma glanced briefly at the ring on his finger.
It must’ve been you that changed me.
He had no clue why in the Netherworld Ali would suddenly feel the need to change his personality though. And it was kind of rude wasn’t it, to magically alter somebody’s head like that? Iruma was pretty sure it would be considered so, even with his slightly skewed standards of what “normal life” looked like.
(Yes, he was self-aware enough to admit that.)
(Life with his sorry excuses for parents, and then later with demons, had to have messed with his understanding somewhat.)
But oh well.
Now that this happened, might as well take advantage of it, right?
Iruma smiled, bad mood over being woken up dissipating. He had a long, long day ahead of him and was looking forward to every second of it. There were so many things he wanted to try now that there was nothing holding him back from giving in to his secret desires.
(He knew he’d most certainly freak out over this once whatever magic Ali had done wore off, but for now he didn’t mind all that much.)
(Even if just temporarily, Iruma had finally gained confidence enough to do what he truly wanted to do.)
(And that was a pretty damn good feeling.)
(He might even owe Ali a thank you by the end of this.)
An advantage of living in the Netherworld with only demons around was that they already had ready had a ready-made explanation for what Iruma was going through: “Evil Cycle”. He didn’t even need to say anything; despite everybody at school gawking at him like he was a one man demdol performance, nobody came up and asked what was up with him today. They all just stared and muttered, stuttering or stumbling over their words whenever he spoke to them. (Or just blushed like crazy. Their various reactions were honestly pretty entertaining.)
Iruma walked through the school to the Misfits’ assigned classroom, entirely at ease. He was followed, as always, by Clara and Asmodeus. Demons watched him wherever he stepped to see what madness would follow this time, also as always.
News about the already very famous student that kept on catching every demon’s attention wherever he went spread fast.
‘He looks so, so different.’
‘I know right?’
‘Must be an evil cycle.’
‘Hey, hey, did you hear? Iruma’s in his evil cycle!’
‘Seriously? That guy?’
‘I think I’m just going to stay out of his way…’
Letting all the stares and whispers slide right off him in a manner entirely unlike himself, Iruma continued on his way.
They could talk all they wanted.
What did he care?
His class talked too.
Of course they talked- unlike the rest of the school, the Misfits shared a classroom with Iruma. They could see the sheer disparity between his usual self and his evil cycle behaviour up close and personal.
Ah yes, the Misfits.
Despite the fact that they were undoubtedly the most troublemaking class in the whole school- that was literally the whole point of the “Misfit Class”- Iruma had found himself admiring how… true to their desires all of them were. For somebody like him, who for his entire life in the human world had to preoccupy himself just surviving from one day to the next, that was honestly amazing. They were demons of course and he was a human, so in the beginning he was mostly only afraid, but over time that changed into a different feeling, a fairly new one for him.
Admiration.
So, suffice to say that now, with all his inhibitions gone, Iruma was going to fulfil one of his biggest and most secret of desires; seeing the Misfit class get some well-deserved appreciation.
His eyes darted around the classroom the Misfits were assigned.
And this is what we have to put up with?
Couldn’t the school have given us a better classroom?
(Well then, since nobody else would bother, Iruma just had to do something about this himself.)