Moonlight filtered through the clouds, through gaps in the canopy of trees, casting dark, misshapen shadows on the undergrowth around him. He was standing alone on the outskirts of a dense forest, an endless chasm at his back. A chilly, evening wind rustled the leaves, pushing loose strands of black hair into his eyes. Overcome with a sense of confusion, he brushed his fringe out of his face and started toward the trees, hoping to find his way back home. He paused when a sudden movement in the forest caught his attention. Something was there, waiting for him, but he knew it wouldn't hurt him.

Amon took a step to the side, inclining his head to get a better view of the figure in the shadows. A stab of fear lanced through him as he continued to watch, expecting, for some reason unknown to him, to see a horrible monster made of black smoke.

Behemoth hopped out of the darkness first, purring and bouncing, excited to see his prince. The hobgoblin was quickly followed by Amaimon. He cradled a large bag of lollipops in one arm, and dug through it to find his son's favorite flavor – watermelon. Amon smiled as he accepted it.

"Thanks, dad!" He tore the wrapper off and popped it into his mouth, the flavor tantalizing and familiar.

Amaimon patted him on his head. "Everything is okay now, Amon," he said, his voice distant, echoing throughout the empty clearing. "I'll always be here for you, but I won't push you anymore." Amon didn't fully understand the meaning of his words and merely shrugged a shoulder. "Don't be afraid of me." Dad held his hand out, palm up, beckoning Amon to take it.

He hesitated, eyes cemented to Amaimon's with uncertainty. His expression seemed level, but was softened with affection, a compassion that Amon so desperately wanted to see in his father's eyes. "You won't leave me...right, dad?"

His lips twitched at the corners, as if he were fighting a smile. "Don't be ridiculous." Amon, filled with a warm, peaceful happiness, took his hand. "Let's go home." It was then that he noticed Asterius-niisan waiting patiently behind Amaimon with Behemoth.

"Home... Together as a family, right?"

"Together as a family."

Chapter Nine
Family

Amon woke to the gentle, pleasant sound of clinking dishes, the sunlight pouring in from the open window hot on the side of his head. For a few peaceful, relaxing moments, he lay there, his face snuggled lazily against the soft, brown teddy bear. He sat up with a sigh, stretching his arms above his head and his legs out.

Dad placed the last of the dishes into the dishwasher and looked up when Amon entered the kitchen. "Did you have a good nap?"

"Mm-hmm," he hummed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes with the back of his hand. "Since when did you do chores? I thought me and Asterius-niisan were supposed to keep the house clean." Amon sat at the table and yawned.

Amaimon turned to the empty sink with a frown. "Asterius convinced me to...help out a little more." He sat across from his son and tapped his black claws against the table impatiently. "So, uh," he started reluctantly. "I talked to Uncle Rin again..."

He perked up. "You didn't argue with him this time, did you?"

"No – I didn't!" Amon raised a brow at dad, obviously not convinced. He huffed and crossed his arms like a child. "Maybe just a little at first."

Amon sighed, shaking his head slowly. "Dad, please try to stop being mean to him – he's part of our family. Okay?"

The earth king scowled and mumbled something obscene under his breath. "Fine. Okay. I'll try harder to control myself from now on."

"Promise?"

He groaned and rolled his eyes. "Promise."

"Great!" He smiled with approval. "Sooo...what did you talk about?"

Dad's expression softened. "We were thinking that...maybe," he paused, trying to decide how to word his thoughts. "Maybe... Your Uncle Mephisto would like to see you in a few plays. And Asterius says that running track will help improve the condition of your lungs. So... I asked Rin to remove you from cram school."

Amon nearly fell out of his chair. "Y-You mean... I don't have to take exorcist classes anymore!?"

"You're not doing as well as I hoped, so, uh," he hesitated and then attempted to harden his voice. "I'm forcing you to quit cram school because you suck at it!"

His entire face brightened and his eyes glittered with excitement. "You really mean it!?"

Amaimon couldn't help a small smile. "Yes."

"Thank you, dad!" He stood up to embrace him, but then stopped, remembering that Amaimon didn't like to be touched. "Oh, sorry." With a frown, he turned back to his chair, the disappointment churning his features, making him seem more boyish than normal.

"It's okay." The demon held out his arms. "Come here." Amon hesitantly stepped forward. Something in Amaimon's expression softened as he wrapped his arms around his neck and held on tight, as if he finally meant something to dad.

"Thanks..."

"You're welcome, Amon."

Amon breathed out slowly, releasing his frustration, trying to focus, and raised the bat beside his head. He narrowed his eyes in concentration at Yata. The black-haired exorcist pulled his arm back, lifted his leg, and threw the baseball with such a force that Amon barely saw it fly by him. He swung the bat hard, but it only cut through air.

"Strike three!" Asterius-niisan called.

He groaned loudly and let the metal bat slip from his hands. "Senpai, you throw too hard!" Amon sighed again, wiping the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand.

Yata laughed heartily, rotating his throwing arm with a smug grin. "Nah, you just don't react fast enough!"

Amon stuck his tongue out. "It was a good try, Amon." Asterius-niisan – their catcher for the game – stood behind him, tossing the baseball into the air and catching it with ease. "Don't give up – Keep practicing and I know you'll hit it next time."

"Yeah, right," he said, sighing for what felt like the hundredth time that day. "I'll always suck at baseball."

"No you won't," Hamada chimed in, her voice gentle and light. Today, her auburn hair was pulled back into a high ponytail, small curls flowing down past her shoulders. Amon's face instantly flared a bright red. "Don't give up, Amon!" She smiled and he averted his gaze, shuffling his feet shyly.

"Ye-Yeah! T-Thanks, Hamada."

Asterius-niisan huffed with mock irritation. "When she says it, you believe it!" He stifled a laugh when Amon's blush turned an even darker red. "Go take a break." He gave the boy a playful push.

Amon shoved him back with a smile and sat on the bench beside Jun. "We're going to lose because of me." He frowned and rested his chin in his hand.

Jun patted his shoulder. "It's okay – We're not playing to win."

"I know...but I want to impress Hamada."

He chuckled, causing Amon to blush again. "Hitting a baseball won't make her fall in love with you."

"T-That's not what I meant!" Jun burst into laughter and, though he resisted at first, Amon joined him, laughing more at the relief of having his precious friends back. "Thanks for being a great friend, Jun."

That took him by surprise, but he smiled nonetheless. "You're a great friend too, Amon."

"Y-You think?"

"Most of the time." The boys shared another laugh.

"You're so mean!"

A metallic sound grabbed their attention, and the two turned with astonishment to see Hamada hit the baseball with a fierce swing. It arched high above the opposing team, over the treeline, and out of the boundaries of the park. She dropped the bat and casually jogged around the bases.

"Wow!" Amon shielded his eyes from the sun, but the baseball was completely gone. "Where did you learn to hit like that, Hamada?" he asked when she returned to home base.

She shrugged. "I have two older brothers. It was either learn how to swing a bat or get pinned down and have a spider shoved in my face."

"T-That's terrible!"

She shook her head. "Not really. I love spiders – I even have a pet tarantula." She giggled sweetly at his stunned reaction, and the sound made Amon's heart flutter.

"Y-You must be really strong," he mumbled, lowering his eyes to his feet and kicking at the dirt again.

"Not as strong as you, Amon." He looked up at her, breath caught in his throat, admiring her beauty: the loose strands of hair that framed her face delicately, her gentle smile, and her bright eyes. His cheeks burned and his heart sped into a wild beat of excitement.

"Uh...s-so..." he paused and cleared his throat with apparent difficulty, a futile attempt to rid his voice of its embarrassing stutter. She waited patiently for him to collect himself. "I-I was...w-wondering, uh..." Before he could force out his question, Jinx ran up to them, her brow dotted with sweat and her breathing ragged.

"Mitsuru knocked the baseball into oblivion – we can't find it," she gasped, hands on her knees as she struggled to catch her breath.

Yata approached them next, his tattoos peeking out from under his sleeve. "You have one hell of an arm, Hamada-chan."

She blushed and covered her mouth with a hand innocently. "I'm so sorry, senpai!" She bowed briefly, startling him. "I'll buy you a replacement."

He waved a hand, dismissing her apology. "Don't worry about it – I have hundreds of them back home. Anyway, we can't continue the game without a ball, so we'll have to schedule a rematch. How does same time next week sound?"

Amon nodded. "That sounds good to me!"

"Make sure you learn to hit the ball by then," Jinx playfully prodded his arm with a finger. "I don't want to feel bad for kicking your butt!" She gave him a challenging grin.

He returned it with a smirk just as confident. "I'll be able to hit it! Make sure you can catch it!"

"We'll see who wins next week!" She stuck her tongue out at him as she walked away with Yata.

Amon's face fell to an exaggerated frown as soon as she was gone. "I'm going to have to practice a lot."

Hamada giggled. "You'll be fine. So, uh, what were you going to ask me?"

His blush and stutter instantly returned. "O-Oh, uh..." He hesitated, massaging the back of his neck anxiously. "I-I was wondering i-if you wanted to...g-go see a movie with m-me, uh, Saturday?"

"Saturday? Hmm," she hummed in thought, her chin resting on her closed fist. "What movie did you want to see?"

Amon swallowed hard before answering. "I-I was t-thinking we could go see the new Sleeping Beauty..." He picked a romantic movie, hoping Hamada would understand what he was implying without him asking her directly.

"Sleeping Beauty?" Her smile broadened, brightening her features with excitement. "I've wanted to see that since it came out!"

"G-Great!" He relaxed slightly. "How does, uh, around seven sound?"

"Sure. But...is it just going to be us?"

He paused, chewing on his bottom lip, his blush darkening. "Y-Yeah..."

"Good," she said softly, leaning toward him. "I want to spend more time alone with you," her voice trailed off and a light pink shade dusted her cheeks. "I really like you, Amon."

"I-I really l-like you too," he said, meeting her eyes tentatively.

"Your stuttering is adorable," she giggled, and Amon, suddenly feeling the intensity of her eyes on him, looked away nervously. He fidgeted with the hem of his t-shirt, trying hard not to look like he enjoyed being called 'adorable'. "Y'know, Amon... I'd like you even more if you called me by my first name."

"O-Okay... M-Mitsuru." She smiled, stepped forward, and kissed him on the lips.

Amon was startled at first, but quickly melted into her. Her touch was as soft and silky as he imagined it, causing his heart to pound and ache. Amon closed his eyes and gently placed his arms on her waist, bringing her closer to him. She held nothing back and leaned into him, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"Hey!" Amon immediately pulled away from Mitsuru as a baseball glove hit the back of his head. He turned to find Asterius-niisan sneering at him. "No kissing on the field!" His friends were crowded behind the minotaur, snickering to each other.

The couple blushed, embarrassed that they had been caught. "S-So, seven right?"

"Y-Yeah, s-seven."

The coach brought the brightly colored flag down, signaling the start of the race. Amon dug his toes into the ground and broke into a sprint. His face was knit with concentration, but Amaimon recognized the twist of pain that came whenever he exerted himself physically. The earth king sat on the edge of his seat, ignoring the shouts of excitement around him, eyes focused on his son, desperately hoping he wouldn't embarrass himself by collapsing in the middle of his first cross country race.

Amon was the first to react, putting him before the other nine runners. But, the strain he was exerting on his lungs was finally catching up to him, slowing him down. Even from where he sat, Amaimon could see his breathing grow rapid and his face become pale.

But he crossed the finish line without so much as tripping, coming in fourth.

Rin jumped to his feet beside him, cheering Amon's name loudly. Amaimon let out the breath he was holding and sat back, finally able to relax. His little brother sat back down, face brightened with exhilaration. They both waved to Amon when he glanced up.

"I almost thought he wasn't going to make it on that last curve," he said, voice filled with relief. "How long has it been since he started track?"

"A month." Amaimon watched the other racers with a bored expression.

"Only a month? Amon's improving faster than I can keep up." Anger lanced through him at the sound of Rin's prideful voice, but he gritted his teeth and tried to clear his mind.

"I'm proud of him too," he said finally.

"He'll be happy to hear that from you." Rin smiled.

"And from you, too," Amaimon said it without thinking, but, for once, didn't regret it.

The young teacher blushed and let out an awkward chuckle. "But... I'm not as important to him as you are."

He scoffed. "I know you're not." His words instantly wiped the smile from Rin's face. "...Amon looks up to you. You were there for him when I wasn't – He'll want you to be proud of him too."

"Wha...? W-Where did that come from?"

Amaimon ignored him, and met his bemused gaze with an almost reverent expression. "You'll make a great father one day. Until then," he paused to sigh, an attempt to rid his voice of the irritation that threatened to make him go back on his promise not to argue with his brother. "Until then... I guess... I want you to be there for Amon – It's what he would want."

"You mean...as a godfather?"

He bit his bottom lip and suppressed the urge to snap at him. "Yeah, whatever."

Rin's smile returned, soft and sincere. "Thanks, Amaimon. That... That really means a lot to me-"

"But if he starts to like you more than me, I'll kill you."

Rin sighed and his face blanked. "I hope Amon doesn't turn out to be as unpredictable as you."

The earth king shot him a smug grin. "Like father, like son." His brother snorted and laughed, shaking his head.

. . .

Amon quickly found Amaimon in the dispersing crowd when the races were over. "Dad! Uncle Rin!" He jogged up to them, slightly out of breath from his excitement. "Did you see me? I did it!" he exclaimed eagerly, a huge smile stretching his face. "I crossed the finish line!"

"You were great out there, Amon!" Uncle Rin ruffled his hair, and, though he didn't appreciate the gesture, he was too happy to complain.

"Good job, Amon – I'm proud of you."

Amon heard the pride in dad's voice, saw it reflected in his eyes, and his heart soared. "D-Dad..." He sniffled, forcing back tears. Uncle Rin turned to see what had caused Amon to become so emotional, and did a double take. Amaimon was smiling – actually smiling.

His smile vanished and he looked between the two with an annoyed expression. "What?"

"You were smiling," Uncle Rin said with a small laugh.

"I was not!" Amaimon blushed and turned away, a hand over his mouth.

Amon felt his features soften as he watched his uncle tease dad. This was his first true taste of freedom, the first sign that his world had changed forever. He had already decided that he would no longer let anything hold him back – not his lungs or dad's irrational disdain for humans. Amon was done allowing his fear and anxiety to hold him captive, to make him cry.

The future was now his to embrace, to claim for himself, and Amon was going to hold on as tightly as he could.

Amaimon stepped out onto the back porch cradling a cup of tea and a small jewelry box. He sat on one of the chairs just under the yellow light and waved Amon over. He paused before he sat, turning back to admire his garden. "So, dad, what do you think?" he asked, accepting the cup of tea and making himself comfortable in the chair beside him.

"It's beautiful." And it was.

Like his father, Amon had a natural talent for plants of all varieties – they blossomed eagerly in his presence, becoming an exotic, alluring pallet of colors, especially in the spring. It wasn't as exquisite as Amahara back home in Gehenna, but it would get there one day, and Amaimon would definitely be here to see it.

A calm silence fell between them as they both gazed out at the starless night, the singing of crickets and Amon slowly sipping his tea the only sounds this late at night.

"Amon... Let's talk."

He tilted his head, placing his empty cup down on the armrest. "About what?"

"I...want to tell you the truth about what you are," he spoke calmly and sensitively, as if afraid his words would somehow bruise him.

"The truth...?" Amon's face scrunched with confusion. "What do you mean?"

He sighed, preparing himself. "Nymeria – your mother – did not die giving birth to you."

Amon narrowed his eyes incredulously and searched Amaimon's face, struggling to understand why he would hide something so trivial from him. "W-What? I... I-I don't..." his voice trailed off and he fell silent.

"She was executed," he said, his gaze anywhere but on Amon, his tone easy and gentle.

His head snapped up, startled. "E-Executed!? Why?"

Amaimon stared up at the black sky and tried not to let anything in his countenance reveal the treacherous emotions that came with the memory of her leaving him, her black hair rustled gently by the wind. "Nymphs are not allowed to breed outside of their tribe. When the elders discovered you were born, they hunted her down and killed her. They would have done the same to you, but by then I had you safe in the garden palace. The tribe was afraid of me, so they left us alone."

He suddenly became quiet, carefully watching Amon's face, trying to decide how to continue from here. His son's expression quickly grew sullen, and he stared mindlessly at his empty tea cup, deep in thought, chin trembling as he fought back his tears. Finally, he spoke, his voice steadier than Amaimon expected. "But why? What's so bad about being part nymph?"

"Obsidian blood." Amon's eyes widened as realization slammed into him. "Anything mixed with a nymph – demon or human – is born with dark purple blood." Amaimon met his son's terrified and bemused eyes. "Most children don't survive into their teenage years because the obsidian solidifies in their veins. But, because your blood is mixed with a demon king, your body is strong enough to combat this. You are the oldest living half-nymph in recorded history."

"D-Dad, I-I don't... I don't understand..."

He continued with his explanation, ignoring the interruption. "Obsidian blood is one of the rarest abilities a demon can be born with, right behind Satan's blue flames. Pure obsidian is extremely dangerous to demons – it invokes a reaction similar to holy water in us, though no one knows why. Oh, exorcists don't know this," he added quickly. "We've gone out of our way to keep this information hidden from them, so don't let this slip to Rin.

"But," he started again after a brief pause, all the tension gone from his voice, "if you're not strong enough, your blood will kill you. This... This was why I pushed you so hard; because I didn't want to lose you."

Amon tried to smile at him, but it vanished a second later. "You won't lose me, dad."

"Then promise you'll continue practicing with the abilities you have. At least a few times a week."

He shook his head and dread rolled through him. "Dad, you promised you wouldn't talk about demons anymore, remember? I'm done training – I want to be a biomedical engineer, not a demon king."

"Amon," he spoke through gritted teeth, frustrated that his son didn't realize how much potential he had. "You are a very powerful demon. If you could just learn how to control your powers, you could-"

"Stop!" he cried, shaking his head and covering his ears with his hands. "I told you, I'm done! I'm done with demons! I'm done with exorcists! I'm done with all of it! I don't want to hear about it anymore!"

Amaimon let out a heavy sigh. A promise was a promise. "Here." He took Amon's wrist and placed the jewelry box in his open hand.

He frowned at it. "What's this?" His fingertips slowly traced the branch-like design on its top. When he didn't answer, Amon glanced up, flashing him a look of confusion.

"Open it."

Inside, resting on soft, purple silk, was a jagged, misshapen chunk of obsidian no larger than his fist. Amon picked it up carefully and turned it in his hands, captivated by how the yellow porch light reflected in the darkly colored glass. "Pretty..." he mused, holding it up. "It feels like it's pulsing..."

"It's your demon heart."

"What!?" Amon tore his gaze away from the obsidian, visibly tensing, suddenly fearful of the...thing in his hands. He quickly placed it back into the box and wiped his hands on his torn jeans. "It's my... What?"

Amaimon stared at it, glittering faintly in the dim light. "When you were eight, I had Uncle Mephisto seal your demon heart to save your life."

"Because of my lungs..." he uttered the words under his breath, seeming to understand everything at once. "It wasn't miasma...was it?"

"No – The blood in your lungs was hardening, and your body was attacking it," his tone was withdrawn, distant. "If Mephisto hadn't sealed your powers, you would have died. Destroy this," he nodded at the obsidian, "and you'll become almost as powerful as your Uncle Rin. But Amon," he grabbed the boy's chin and forced them to make eye contact. "Do not break it unless you're ready. Releasing the seal too soon will kill you."

Amon squirmed out of his grasp. "Why are you giving this to me? Why wait until now to tell me all this?"

Amaimon lowered his eyes to the jewelry box again, biting his bottom lip hard to force back his pathetic emotions. "I'm... This is me letting you go," he sucked in a slow, shaky breath. "I'm letting you make your own decisions about your future. Just...promise me you'll keep it somewhere safe."

Amon's smile returned, soft and wistful, and his entire body relaxed. He gently closed the lid of the jewelry box, patted it affectionately, and then handed it back to Amaimon. "Thanks, dad. This is the best thing you could do for me right now."

"Why are you giving it to me? It's your heart." He peered at him with astonishment. Wasn't he doing what Amon had asked? Giving him complete control over his life? And yet, after everything they've been through in the past month...did Amon still trust him? Despite all the pain he forced him through? Amaimon's hands began to tremble as he continued to battle his rising emotions.

Amon laughed, his smile widening. "You said to keep it somewhere safe. There's no safer place in Assiah than with you, dad. Besides," he paused, turning his attention to the empty sky. "I don't think I'll ever be ready."

"Don't be ridiculous, Amon. You're not as weak as you think you are...or, as weak as I say you are."

"Y-You really mean that?" He beamed, his face lit with delight.

"Of course." Amaimon forced a smile. It was small and uncertain, but it was there nonetheless.

"Really!?"

"Yes."

"Really really?"

He deadpanned. "Don't push your luck."

Amon tossed his head back and laughed loudly. Tears escaped from the corners of his eyes, dripping off his chin before he could wipe them away, but, this time, Amaimon knew they were from joy, not sadness. It was such a wonderful feeling to see his son happy, and to know that, finally, he was the one to make him feel this way.

All along, Asterius had been right: watching your child grow and make something out of himself was the most satisfying thing a father could experience.

Amaimon knocked gently on Amon's door before opening it and poking his head in. The boy was fast asleep despite it being early in the evening, blanket pulled up to his chin. He slipped in quietly and placed his present – poorly wrapped with light blue paper – on the empty shelf beside the framed photo. It was a book – a collection of horror stories by someone named Lovecraft. Asterius said it would help 'improve his taste in books', whatever that meant.

As he turned to leave, Amon stirred slightly in his sleep, nuzzling his cheek against his pillow. Amaimon carefully sat on the edge of his bed and watched him, his face peaceful and almost happy.

And then, for reasons unbeknownst to him, he began to sing. It was the lullaby Nymeria had sung when she was pregnant, the first thing that came from her as she held her newborn, and the last thing he heard before they took her away to be executed.

Don't cry my sweetheart

You're not alone
No need to look for me
Remember I live in you

I will be your summer rain
Field of autumn grain
Sound of the winter wind
Melody of a beautiful spring

It will be a lovely day
Just close your eyes
All your pain will lead you to tomorrow

So don't cry my sweetheart

Amon cracked open an eye and grinned. "You have a terrible singing voice, dad."

He smiled. "I know."

THE END

Author's Note: And...that's the end! I think I've wrapped everything up, but if not, please let me know! Also, I'm absolutely terrible at anything that even remotely sounds like a song or a poem, so please excuse the quality of the 'lullaby' (honestly if someone sang that to me I'd probably rip my ears off lol)

Anyway, am I going to write more about Amon? Uhh, maybe. This is all I had planned for him and, though I would love to write more about Amon's adventures, I don't have any more good ideas. So, unless enough people are interested in a sequel or something, this is it.

Thank you so very much to everyone for supporting Against the Tide either by favoriting or following or reviewing or reading! It means so much to me that this many people enjoyed it. Thank you for joining me on this adventure – and I hope you enjoyed reading about Amon as much as I enjoyed writing about him!

—Melon