The Oga household had officially become a war zone. For three nights straight, Baby Beel's cries had shaken the very foundations of the neighborhood, rattling windows, shaking doors, and sending even the most hardened of Ishiyama High students—and, apparently, neighbors—into fits of sleepless delirium. Outside, groggy adults peeked through blinds, rubbing their eyes and clutching mugs of coffee like lifelines. Some muttered curses under their breath. Some considered moving. One elderly man had even taken to banging a pot with a spoon, perhaps to drown out the demonic wails or perhaps to challenge the child to a battle of volume, but to no avail. The Oga household, by all visible and auditory metrics, was ground zero for chaos.
Inside, Oga Tatsumi looked every bit the part of a man surviving a demonic siege. His hair was a wild halo of disheveled black, dark circles rimmed his eyes, and his hoodie hung from his shoulders as if it, too, were surrendering to the exhaustion. His expression was somewhere between complete defeat and existential horror as he peeked over the edge of the futon, eyeing the squirming, wailing infant who had, apparently, developed lungs of a god. Or perhaps a demon. Likely a demon, considering the intensity. Plus the fact that he was actually a demon too.
Kogen, in contrast, remained unnervingly calm. Sitting cross-legged on the tatami, he held Baby Beel against his chest, rocking him gently, his twin parasols leaning against the wall like silent sentinels. His eyes were steady, almost distant, the faintest twinge of exhaustion visible only when he yawned silently. Even now, a low, steady hum of serenity emanated from him, a stark contrast to the living hurricane of cries that filled the room. "Darling..." he murmured softly to Oga, almost as if the word itself could imbue him with patience. Oga, for the moment, ignored the flustering nature of being called "darling" in favor of concentrating on not strangling the infant in sheer frustration.
Hildegarde, ever the efficient demon maid, moved through the chaos like a storm contained in a teacup. Even sleep-deprived, she displayed that signature cold precision: a basket of toys in one hand, a bottle in the other, eyes darting to check the baby's vitals, Oga's antics, and the general state of the room. "Oga," she scolded, sharp but not unkind, "you do know that complaining about this accomplishes nothing. Focus." Her voice, though tired, carried an almost authoritarian weight that managed to keep Oga from reaching a full-blown breakdown—though just barely.
"Geez..." Oga muttered, rubbing at his eyes. "Three nights straight, and the kid just... doesn't stop..." He rubbed his temples, catching sight of Baby Beel's little fists flailing wildly. The infant's screams escalated to a level that made even Kogen's calm demeanor shift to a faint raise of an eyebrow. "How is it possible to have lungs like that... and survive the first night... let alone three nights?" Oga's internal monologue was a mixture of awe, fear, and disbelief, as if he were analyzing a weapon of mass destruction rather than a child.
Hilda stepped forward, setting down the basket of toys. "It's natural," she said, cutting through his panic with clinical precision. "Every year until the child reaches two, the Demon Lord Children will cry continuously for two weeks. This is... growth. You need to endure it. And, Oga, don't even think about complaining again." Her glare carried enough weight to make Oga shiver despite his growing fatigue. "I said don't, Oga."
"Yeah... yeah, fine," Oga muttered, giving an exaggerated shrug. Internally, however, he groaned. Two weeks of this? Two weeks of ear-shattering demonic crying? His internal calculation of survival odds had him imagining a scenario where he was carried away in a stretcher, completely broken, while Beel's cries echoed through the city.
Kogen, seated with near-meditative poise, murmured softly, "Darling... patience is required." Oga groaned audibly, rubbing his face in disbelief. Why did it feel like Kogen's calmness somehow made the chaos even more noticeable? It was infuriating. And, of course, the flustered awareness of being called "darling" did nothing to help.
Deciding that daytime strategies were the only viable path to survival, Oga, Hilda, and Kogen began plotting ways to tire Baby Beel out before the next inevitable night of screaming. It was time to resort to all the tricks and tactics known to humanity—and demon-kind. Oga's mother, father, and elder sister Misaki joined the fray, bringing with them a blend of well-meaning but chaotic energy that amplified the already absurd scene. Oga's mother suggested a rotation of playtimes, tickle sessions, and forced nap schedules. "We must exhaust him," she commanded, hands on her hips as if leading a battle against the infant army.
Oga's father, seeing the chance to becoming beel favorite, opted for more physical methods. He lifted Beel with exaggerated strength, spun him around like a human top, and sent the infant squealing into Oga's arms with comedic inaccuracy. Misaki, meanwhile, performed an over-the-top interpretive dance, trying to entertain Beel with singing and waving stuffed animals. Every action produced a mixture of squeals, flailing arms, and a dramatic display of infant rejection. Beel crawled away, tossed toys, and occasionally aimed a well-placed kick at Oga, sending him stumbling into the couch.
Amid the chaos, Kogen remained calm, holding Beel for brief intervals and gently rocking him with a subtle sigh. His movements were precise, every gesture measured. The faintest hint of fatigue shadowed his eyes, but he never faltered, a stark counterpoint to Oga's chaotic flailing and Hilda's efficient panic.
Oga, desperate, attempted to bathe Beel alongside Kogen, a plan that was swiftly met with resistance from the infant. Beel, traumatized from prior exposure to molten magma during infancy—courtesy of his demonic father King Beelzebub—reacted violently to water. He screamed and flailed, sending both Oga and Kogen into comical panic. Towels flew, water splashed everywhere, and Oga ended up soaked, hair plastered to his face, looking every bit the drowned, exhausted delinquent. Kogen, in contrast, simply held Beel steady, maintaining a calm face while silently cursing the bath for disturbing his meditation.
The evening sun faded into twilight, signaling the approach of the next battle: bedtime. Hilda, with her characteristic efficiency, suggested a new plan. Beel would sleep between Oga and Kogen, providing him comfort and ensuring he remained calm through the night. Oga and Kogen prepared the futons meticulously. Beel, surprisingly compliant now, snuggled into the middle, eyes half-lidded. The tranquility was almost tangible. For once, it seemed the Oga household might survive the night unscathed. Oga, exhausted beyond reason, collapsed on his futon beside Beel, heart still racing from the bath fiasco.
Kogen, cradling Beel carefully, whispered softly, "Darling... just let him sleep. He's safe." The word sent a minor wave of panic-flush across Oga's face, but he was too tired to dwell on it, allowing the calm presence of Kogen to soothe his frayed nerves. For a moment, the room was quiet, and Oga let himself breathe, thinking that perhaps survival was possible.
And then Hilda, sleepy and slightly clumsy after her own attempts at catching a moment of rest, descended from the kitchen to grab a sip of water. Fate, it seemed, had a sense of humor. She stepped forward, one foot colliding catastrophically with Oga's lower regions. The resulting scream would have rivaled Beel's cries in volume, echoing off the walls. Beel, startled by the sudden outburst, began to wail once more, thrashing between Oga and Kogen. Oga's futon contorted as he scrambled in agony, trying to avoid both the baby's flailing limbs and the aftermath of Hilda's mishap.
Kogen, eyes narrowing but expression unchanged, held Beel securely, whispering soothing nonsense to calm the infant. The calmness of his voice was a beacon of sanity amidst the storm, and Beel, almost instantly, quieted slightly in response, nestling into Kogen's chest. Oga, however, was still sprawled awkwardly on the futon, muttering, "You brat the entire Ishiyama can't sleep cause of your crying, just sleep already." Kogen's deadpan gaze met Oga's, and the word "darling" was spoken softly in admonishment, eliciting a blush across Oga's exhausted face. He turned away, scratching the back of his neck, insisting that he was fine despite the throbbing pain, all while trying not to crush the wailing demon child.
Hilda, muttering apologies, quickly retreated to the kitchen, realizing that her attempt to hydrate had caused a complete collapse of the careful sleeping arrangement. Beel, now awake and still whining, was quickly calmed once more by Kogen's gentle rocking, his arms moving as though they alone could contain the chaos of a screaming demon child. Oga, still flushed and uncomfortable, moved closer, placing his hand on Beel's tiny back and muttering a half-hearted apology to both baby and Kogen. Kogen's response was a quiet murmur: "Darling... it's alright. Just... breathe."
The night stretched on, filled with soft whimpers, tiny cries, and the occasional muttered curse from Oga. Misaki, mother, and father, having retreated earlier to nap in shifts, now tiptoed around the room, offering toys, blankets, and soft encouragements in an attempt to preserve some semblance of calm. Beel occasionally squirmed and gurgled, half-asleep, half-aware of the chaos surrounding him. Each movement was met with a coordinated response: Oga adjusting the futon, Kogen soothing the child, and Hilda quietly muttering strategic guidance.
Somewhere in the distance, the neighbors groaned, cursed, and contemplated the existential implications of living within earshot of a Demon Lord child. The night, however, remained a delicate balance: Oga, Kogen, Hilda, and the household worked in unison, each movement precise.
Each word calculated to maintain the fragile peace. It was domestic chaos, yes—but a chaos tinged with care, with subtle love, with patience that defied exhaustion.
By the time the first light of dawn crept over Ishiyama, Beel had finally slipped into a quiet, deep sleep, nestled safely between Oga and Kogen. The household collapsed in exhaustion, bodies sprawled across futons and chairs, hair tangled and faces lined with fatigue. Oga, still flushed from the prior mishaps, muttered under his breath, "Survived... another night... barely..." Kogen, cradling Beel like the most fragile treasure in the universe, offered only a small, tired smile, his expression tinged with quiet melancholy. Hilda, ever efficient, already began planning for the next day, her sharp mind unbroken despite the chaos of the night.
And thus, the Oga household, battered, sleep-deprived, yet strangely harmonious, prepared to face another day with a Demon Lord Child who demanded attention, patience, and love—chaotic love that would shape not only their nights but the very essence of their lives. In the end, only Kogen's quiet, unwavering presence kept the storm from consuming them entirely, while Oga muttered, yawned, and endured the unrelenting domestic battlefield with his usual mix of resignation and begrudging care.