Chapter Text
He wasn’t sure why Jinu had included him in his demon boyband scheme. The others had been loud in expressing their skepticism at the idea. They didn’t think he could pull any of it off--the singing, the dancing, passing as human, not scaring off potential fans. Especially the last two. The madness that had come with the disease that had killed him had lasted for decades after his death, and had cemented his reputation as more beast than man. To this day other demons still treated him like an animal.
But to everyone’s surprise, he exceeded expectations. Singing and dancing wrought an enormous change in him. He had known that he loved music, of course. It was what had drawn him to Jinu in the first place. But before Jinu began training them to be the Saja Boys he had never tried to sing or dance himself. As it turned out, doing so did wonders for his tattered psyche. His mind calmed, and his ability to put up a pretense of civility and control improved dramatically. He began to speak again for the first time in at least a century, and the other Saja Boys stopped watching him like he might attack them at any moment. He wondered if Jinu had known this would happen--Jinu carefully maintained his reputation, but he had held onto his humanity more than most. There was a softness to him, kindness almost, that he kept carefully hidden. Jinu did his best to only show that side of himself to his pets--but of course he had more or less been one of them. That softness had never been directed towards him--he was not quite animal enough for Jinu to fully let his guard down--but he was animal enough that Jinu had let the mask slip where he could see a few times, and he’d seen it directed towards the tiger and the magpie. For a long time his greatest desire had been to lose whatever shreds of personhood that trailed after him so that he could truly join the ranks of the tiger and the bird. To be Jinu’s guard dog for real.
The mental coherence that joining the band brought him had likely scuttled any possibility of that happening, but Jinu had finally given him a name, which was almost as good. He didn’t remember being a human very well, so this was the first name he could remember having. He liked having a name like he liked singing, dancing. It felt like a new start. Like a new him. He liked being Mystery. He liked it in the Below, and to his surprise, he liked it even better in the Above. This trip wasn’t his first time Above, but it was certainly different. Before he had always had scavenging missions, stealing goods under cover of darkness to be bartered back Below. He had never gone in a group before, or in daylight, or had any purposeful interaction with humans.
Going into this experience, he did not have strong feelings about humans. He was surprised to find himself liking them--for the most part, they were too soft to be measured as threats, and they were too stupid to be afraid of him. He did not like it when they got too close, but the energy of a performance was exhilarating, and their joy and adoration intoxicating.
Those sensations would have been enough to satisfy him, but on top of that the plan was actually working, leaving every one of the Saja Boys in a cheery mood. The others loved laughing at the huntresses’ frustration. At first Mystery did not understand the others’ fixation on the huntresses. They were their enemies, but it wasn’t personal for Mystery. Their emotional responses didn’t delight him. Any detail that wasn’t relevant to their mission was uninteresting to him. But he treasured the group’s growing camaraderie, so he tagged along when Abby and Romance began seeking out the huntresses on their patrols to gloat and taunt and flirt. Jinu had staked a claim to the purple one, so they left her alone, and Abby and Romance quickly lost interest in the less vicious black-haired one. But they loved fighting with the pink one. But Mystery did not enjoy fighting the way Abby and Romance did, and since they did not like having to share their target’s attention anyway, he stopped. Abby and Romance did not seem to notice when he stopped stalking the pink on the streets with them.
Instead he wandered the streets on his own. He was becoming increasingly curious about humans. He did not remember much of his human life, so everything was new to him. The Above was so different from the Below, humans so different from demons. Their unguardedness was foolish but charming, and watching humans interact with their friends made him feel the same longing he’d felt when he’d seen Jinu pet his tiger.
He came across the black-haired huntress while he was wandering one day. When he had joined Abby and Romance in stalking the huntresses, Mystery had hung back during their fights. The pink one had attacked him anyway. The black-haired one had ignored him when he had not made an aggressive move. That was the only reason he didn’t immediately turn around when he saw her.
But it wasn’t the reason he followed her. The other huntresses patrolled on foot. This one raced along atop a wheeled board. When there weren’t demons around--except him, but she didn’t know he was there, of course--she would do jumps and tricks.
It looked like fun. Mystery longed for it the way he used to long to listen to Jinu’s music before the Saja Boys, back in his guard dog days. He would have never imagined that music was something he could make himself back then, but now it was. So why couldn’t he have this too?
So he found (stole) a board like the one the huntress had. Like singing and dancing, starting this felt like rediscovering part of his personhood. Gliding along was pure joy. It was true that he could run just as fast, or even faster, but running made him think of all the times he had fled for his life. It would always be associated with fear. This felt like freedom, like fearlessness.
But there was only so much he could figure out for himself. He couldn’t manage the jumps and tricks he’d seen the huntress do, and he wanted. So he did the stupidest, least survival-oriented thing he’d ever done: he approached her.
He emerged from an alleyway after she finished dispatching one of his brethren, before she could get back on her board. Of course she resummoned her blades the moment she saw him, but hesitated when she saw the board he was holding to his chest. He made an abortive little gesture with it and said, “Jumps. You’re good. Show me?”
She squinted at him suspiciously. “You…want me to teach you skateboarding? Why? Is this a trick? I won’t fall for it!”
“No,” he said. “No trick. It’s fun. I want to have fun.” He ducked his head. “I don’t know who else to go to.”
She lowered her blades. “If this is a ploy for sympathy, it won’t work. I will still kill you.” She paused. “But…I do miss having skateboarding friends. Not that we’re friends! But I’ll show you a few things. But no funny business! And this doesn’t change anything. We’re still gonna kill you and your friends.”
That was the beginning of the most enjoyable afternoon of his life. After a lecture about safety and concussions, she took him to her favorite skate shop to buy a helmet and pads, and then got him a sticker for his skateboard too. This made a warm glow kindle in his chest. No one had ever gotten him a gift before. No one had ever been concerned for his safety. No one had ever wanted to spare him pain or injury.
So he kept seeking her out. Being around her was as intoxicating as performing in front of a crowd of cheering fans. Smiling Zoey was so unlike anyone he had ever known before. No one was ever so upbeat Below. No one had ever been so unafraid of him. And unlike most she didn’t see his near-silence as a reason to stop talking to him.
So he kept seeking her out, seeing her every day, multiple times a day if their groups had one of their tense stand-offs doing idol business. But those encounters almost didn’t count--everything was different when their bandmates were there. He had the feeling that both of them were hiding their meetings from their respective groups. He discovered that he was quite tongue-tied if they were not alone, and that he did not like not being the focus of her undivided attention. At the fansigning he couldn’t make himself say a word, only bark like the dog he was trying not to be anymore. That was enough of a failure on its own, but then she scolded him. He felt a sinking feeling in his stomach.
Of course Baby had to comment after the signing was over and the huntresses were gone. “‘Bad Saja boy!’” he said in an irritating, nasal falsetto. A truly offensive imitation of melodious Zoey. “As if you were her fucking puppy. Are you looking for a new hand to hold your leash, Mys? Jinu not good enough for you anymore?”
“Maybe if you’re good she’ll let you sleep at the foot of her bed,” Abby added with a teasing smile. “I know Jinu never let you do that.”
“As if,” Romance said. “A girl like that, she’d want some tiny, fluffy puppy. Mystery’s not her type.”
“Mystery’s not anybody’s sleep-in-my-bed type,” Baby sniggered.
His bad mood lingered for hours after. He didn’t know what bothered him more, that the others still saw him as a dog or that he wasn’t the likeable kind of dog. He wanted to forget about the signing altogether. But no one--not even sweet Zoey--was going to let him.
“So, what was the barking about?” she asked him the next time they met at the skate park.
He shrugged. Without looking at her, he mumbled, “Habit, I guess. They used to call me Jinu’s guard dog.”
“Oh--so it was like, an inside joke?” she asked.
He shook his head. He still couldn’t make himself look at her. “No…I died of mad dog disease. They think it made me a dog.”
“Mad dog--you mean rabies? Oh Mystery!” Suddenly she was lunging forward and then her arms were around him. She was so warm and smelled so good. She squeezed and pulled back before he could work out how to respond. “I’m so sorry that happened to you. I can’t believe they would call you that! You deserve better friends.”
“Demons don’t have friends,” was his unthinking reply.
“That’s not right,” was kind Zoey’s response. “Everyone should have friends.” A gentle touch on his shoulder. “For what it’s worth, Mystery, I think you’d be a great friend.”
“Me?” He shook his head. “I’m not the friend type. Nobody likes me.”
“Plenty of people like you!” compassionate Zoey said. “You have so many fans!”
He snorted. “The band has fans. I don’t.”
“That is really not true,” she replied. “I can show you, you have fans. There are so many posts online about you--not that I’m paying attention! Well, I am, but only for work reasons! Totally professional. Purely information gathering, and nothing else. But the point is, I have a list. Proof! Evidence! You have fans. More than that--you’re plenty of people’s bias.”
“But they don’t know me,” he said. “They don’t know…what I am. They haven’t seen me.”
“Then show me,” she said. “You can’t show the fans because of the whole--demon thing, but I know already. So you can show me. Starting with your face. Please.”
His spine stiffened. Show her his face--the idea shouldn’t scare him the way it did. It wasn’t like he was disfigured--he’d been fairly lucky, when it came to scars. But he hated baring his face. He had never managed to perfect a mask. He could present a facade of complete emotionlessness, or show every emotion on his face. He didn’t like the response to either.
“No,” he said, and teleported away with a puff of smoke.