The afternoon air was crisp, brushing across Oga's skin with the kind of bite that kept him awake. They walked along the quieter edge of the city, where concrete slowly gave way to trees and patches of grass that hadn't yet been bulldozed. The world looked ordinary—kids playing, shopkeepers shouting—but nothing about last night, or this morning, felt ordinary anymore.
Beel shifted in Kogen's arms, stirring just enough to give a small, sleepy whimper before curling back against his chest. Kogen rocked him without thought, his parasol hooked casually over his shoulder, his stride steady.
Oga shoved his hands deeper into his pockets, scowling. "...Oi."
Kogen tilted his head slightly, not stopping. "Hm?"
"You gonna make sneaking out in the middle of the damn night a regular thing?"
Kogen's lips twitched. "You sound like a nagging spouse, darling."
"Answer the damn question."
For once, Kogen didn't tease further. His steps slowed, the sound of gravel crunching underfoot filling the silence. "...I hope not," he said at last, his voice low, steady. "But hoping doesn't mean it won't happen again."
Oga's scowl deepened. "The hell's that supposed to mean? Why do you even have to do this crap alone? There's plenty of freaks and demons crawling around. Why is it always you?"
Kogen stopped walking entirely. The wind tugged at his coat, ruffling Beel's hair where the baby slept against him. His eyes—usually gleaming with mischief or mockery—looked strangely hollow, like a mirror that reflected nothing back.
"...Because responsibility doesn't ask permission," Kogen murmured.
Oga frowned. "Tch. What's that supposed to mean?"
Finally, Kogen looked at him. "You saw the blood. You saw the monsters. Do you really think Ishiyama is the only battlefield?"
Oga gritted his teeth, but he didn't answer.
Kogen's voice dropped lower, carrying weight, as though the air itself bent to his words. "Long before you mortals walked upright, there were two forces who shaped this world. Death and Life. Not metaphors. Not symbols. Gods. Opposites, yet bound together. I was Death. He was Life. Together we gave shape to what you stand on—the soil, the air, the beating of hearts. And it became our duty to preserve it."
Oga blinked, his scowl faltering. "You're seriously telling me you're Death? Like what you were saying yesterday wasn't a lie. Like... the Death? The one with the scythe and all that crap?"
Kogen's lips quirked faintly, though the smile didn't touch his eyes. "A scythe is too dramatic, even for me. Twin blades suffice."
Oga stared at him for a long moment. "...Tch. You're insane."
"Perhaps." Kogen's gaze drifted to Beel, his expression softening in a way that was almost unbearable. "But insanity doesn't change truth. And the truth is this—another god, not of our world, declared war long ago. We crushed most of his armies, forced him back, but he hasn't stopped. He sends his beasts like shadows creeping under doors. If they go unchecked, your kind will be swallowed before you even know what's devouring you."
Oga's jaw tightened. "So what, you're saying all this crap lands on your shoulders alone?"
Kogen looked at him with something like pity. "Who else, darling? I am Death. I was born to bear it. If I don't, then innocents—mortals, demons, angels alike—become casualties in a war they never asked to fight."
The silence between them pressed heavy, filled only by Beel's small breaths. Oga couldn't shake the image of last night: Kogen covered in blood, eyes empty, moving like a corpse that refused to die.
He wanted to say it didn't matter. That it wasn't his problem. But the memory of Beel's screams cut through the thought like a blade.
"...Oi." Oga's voice was rougher than he intended. He looked away, fists clenched. "You better not go vanishing like that again. You hear me? Don't sneak off and make the brat cry like that."
Kogen's brow arched, faint amusement flickering back. "I can't make promises I may not keep."
"The hell you can't." Oga stepped closer, glaring now, his scowl full force. "You will promise. To me and to him."
Kogen blinked, genuinely caught off guard. "Darling—"
"Don't 'darling' me right now." Oga's voice was sharp, stubborn. "You don't get it. Beel—he's a pain in the ass, but he's still a kid. He's still just... a kid. He doesn't know crap about gods or wars or whatever the hell you're talking about. All he knows is you're his mother, and when you disappear, he thinks he's losing you forever. And..." His throat tightened, though he refused to show it. "...And I don't like it either. So you promise. You'll always come back. No matter what."
Kogen studied him, silent. His expression softened—not with mockery, not with irony, but with something quieter, heavier. For a moment, his eyes looked almost... human.
Finally, he exhaled a laugh, low and faint. "You're insufferable when you're stubborn."
Oga glared harder.
Kogen tilted his head, then leaned in slightly, pressing a brief, feather-light kiss against Oga's cheek. The gesture was maddeningly casual, but it sent heat rushing up Oga's neck before he could stop it.
"Very well," Kogen murmured. "I promise. I will return. For him." His gaze flickered meaningfully. "...And perhaps for you, too."
Oga yanked his head away, face red. "Tch! Don't say creepy crap like that!"
Kogen only chuckled softly, adjusting Beel in his arms. The baby stirred but didn't wake, sighing as though comforted by the sound of Kogen's voice.
"...Let's go back, darling," Kogen said at last. "It's nearly dinner."
Oga grumbled something incoherent under his breath, still flustered, but he followed. His chest felt tight in a way he couldn't shake. Maybe it was annoyance. Maybe something else.
All he knew was that for the first time, he didn't just fear the monsters lurking in the shadows.
He feared the thought of Kogen disappearing into them.
And that terrified him more than he'd ever admit out loud.