Chapter Text
Iruma Suzuki. Fourteen years old, still a child. He was technically not homeless, since he was registered as living with his parents, but the locals would disagree.
Everyone knew Iruma. How he always worked. How he always helped people outside of work. It was common knowledge that he was ‘homeschooled’ and by ‘homeschooled’ he was sometimes, rarely , left at home with books the moment he could read properly. Even rarer than that were the times Iruma could attend classes. And any classes he could attend were freebies from teachers who felt bad when he was working as a janitor for a school.
Later on in his education, he would learn in the classroom that was the ‘real world’. More jobs, and even the occasional shady dealing with the japanese mafia. Needless to say, he was well learned, well cultured, polite, everything you’d expect him not to be, being forced into so many roles at such a young age.
When he was ‘on holiday’ he was camping in the local woods. It was there where he learned hunting and foraging.
And it was during all of the above where he sharpened his instincts to a razor-like sharpness.
His most recent job was on a tuna fishing boat. He’d be away from home for a full week, during which his parents would be relaxing. He was happy to work on a tuna fishing boat. It wasn’t the first time, after all, and when he was around, the local fishermen always seemed to catch more.
During Iruma’s most recent job, they finally obtained what they needed. It had cost them a tidy sum of fifteen thousand yen, just over a hundred dollars, but it would make them multi-billionaires if it worked. And if it didn’t, they knew Iruma wouldn’t mind. He’d be happy his parents had thought about another way to earn money for their hobbies: drinking, eating out in good restaurants, and anything else they wanted to do.
It was an old book about summoning demons, complete with translations. It was obviously pretty old, and of unknown origins. They had tried before, but this time was the one time it would work, they knew it.
“Jorasuze paki nahire wuna qilitivo.
Mitze wali jenu voto hadi kuwuri.
Fasige miwolu vesutine dakapi.
Mujuveri tamo golive kipawa.
Rufesiti dole ramo fize wari!
Pomu nasitu kejoru mifa,
Gove lebi thaware kolusi.
Rujitase mona lirewubago.
Nuti sipowen era mifi xuwo,
Gikasutaru lolijeso podari!
Nigumidovi kelemote napari!
Sullivan wali jenu mona lir kasuta!
zimikilo rite jexu wedawo tisaki burivenu!”
Mrs. Suzuki read the script out loud. For six seconds, nothing happened. The basement was as it usually was.
But then, purple glowing runes coated the walls and floor, and the ceiling glowed black. Feet appeared sliding down into the room, then purple legs, a purple upper body, and a bald, horned head.
It had worked.
“We will sell our son for money!” Mr. Suzuki stated firmly, suppressing the shivers of delight. They would celebrate later.
The demon, seeming to understand, nodded, and produced a sheet of paper with writing on it, and a pen. They were both quick to sign the two dotted lines that were at the bottom, especially after seeing the numbers 100000000. They assumed that that was what they would receive for giving up their son, the one who had never let them down, even as he was being sold he was still working. The boy was always running around for them, and had never deserted them. But it was never enough.
And so, they sold their son to a demon!