"Not gonna wear the cat suit? Well I'M not gonna answer your question!" Pearlan said, turning away from Arashi and grumbling in defiance. "Besides, my Persian Paradise is still going strong..."
The other duke doubted him because he lived in a colorless world, no imagination behind those dull eyes that only knew how to break things down. Maybe there'd be some life in them once he witnessed the maturation of his mind's most promising brainchild. Fuck cats. A week from now, he'd gather the townspeople like sheep. Still in his costume, the royal hobbled away from Ara-kun, burst through the door into the streets, and screamed at the top of his lungs to any pedestrians who were out this late.
"EVERYONE LISTEN UP! A WEEK FROM TODAY, THERE'LL BE A FREE CONCERT OUT IN THE WOODS! BRING YOUR FRIENDS! BRING YOUR COWORKERS! TELL EVERYONE YOU KNOW!" he advertised. "BUT MOST IMPORTANTLY, BRING YOUR KIDS!"
He had every right to be loud, because that was the last they'd hear of him for a while. The last they'd see of him was when he made the usual rounds that night and checked each of his businesses. The tiny kebab shop closed the earliest, so there was nothing to look at. The town's toilet holes were tinier and similarly closed full of shit, so there wasn't anything he wanted to observe there either. But at Arashi's Dream Spa, he found the same troubled teen he'd met on its opening night, absently twirling his finger in the water like a lonely female.
"Hey, kid. Do me a favor. I need someone to look after my latest master plan. It's a cat café called Cataclysm, and boy, that sure is a lot of c-words in one sentence," Pearlan stated. "You'll take this costume I'm wearing, feed the cats periodically, and serve the guests tea."
"That sounds hella lame. The only reason I like you so much is 'cause you gave me a place where I can be lazy. Why do I have to work?" the yawning adolescent replied.
"Because nobody likes you. You'd do anything to get away from your parents, but you ain't getting any bitches either. So I'll let you in on a little secret," the Duke enticed with a devilish smirk. "GIRLS! LOVE! CATS!"
"They do?"
"Well, unless they have allergies."
"Then if I do as you say, I'll get pu-"
"Of course. It's a cat café," he interrupted. "Now quit beating off in the tub and go put on an apron."
Pearlan had little hope in the younger generation, but when one becomes a demon, he loses faith in all mere mortals. The only thing he needed to be convinced of was his final plot's success. He continued through the dusty town road and stopped to admire his stone likeness. Or tried to, at least. The lustful women who'd chased and lost him had flocked back to it, either awaiting his return with a patience rivaling that of a demon trapped in Hell, or settling for a chiseled impression of himself in the real thing's absence. When he reappeared, they sprang toward him as if they'd been set free from their fiery pit, eyes glinting with sin unlike the impassable ones of the statue at which they’d been gawking.
He had no time to waste, so he stepped back instead of indulging their antics and watched them land in a heap at his feet. "LADIES! I'm going to need you to do me a favor that's crucial to the survival of my wicked design!"
"Anything for you~" they purred in unison.
"I'm looking for waitresses to staff Cataclysm, the new joint I just opened up at the end of town. Y'all sound like a bunch of felines, so you'll love the uniforms."
"Oh? Do we get to wear cat suits? The tight-fitting, seductive kind?~"
"No, the cute and cuddly kind. They're the most innocent things ever."
"Aww~"
The bathhouse and meat stand could safely be shuttered, but someone had to care for the animals while he was gone. The Duke faded into the woods with a smile creeping to his visage, because this next scheme would be Arashi's favorite. He hadn't been the biggest fan of the one that just concluded, but knowing his penchant for destruction, the fellow royal would actively involve himself this time instead of criticizing him from afar like he frequently did. His participation would streamline his plan in the night, and they'd retire in a cave as sunlight streamed over the horizon's distant line in the day. As the week slowly passed, Pearlan cleared the forest and fashioned the materials into his most ambitious construction yet. He let Ara-kun handle the trees in their flimsiest form—papers he'd purchased in the neighborhood and scrawled with rhythmic verses. Committing these to memory would train their minds, while the intense physical labor would train their bodies. Seven days flew by just like that, and at the end, Pearlan looked like someone whose face had braved a wind tunnel.
"Feast your eyes, Arashi!" he presented, throwing out his sweaty arm and inviting his eyes to traverse the seemingly endless rows of chairs until stopping at a massive stage. "When I said this was my ultimate plan, I wasn't kidding! Now put on these clothes! Ditch the shirt and keep showing your bare torso if you're going for an LL Cruel J look! You didn't want to wear the stuffy cat outfit, but these are way cooler! And more diabolical! Or as I like to say, gangsta!"
The demon held up a white bucket hat, a short-sleeved, open-armed shirt, a tangle of gold chains, and baggy, low-hanging pants, switching the first for a red jersey emblazoned with white numbers. These were Pearlan's original designs, for he was not only a master of the needle but also a visionary who'd pull the entire fashion world into the future along with his thread. This wear was unlike anything Japan or the rest of the world had seen, but he was certain his unconventional genius would be a hit.
"Now here's the devious plan," the Duke whispered for effect, despite them being the only ones here. "I couldn't pollute a kid's mind earlier since he was an infant who hadn't yet uttered his first word. But information travels quickly, and I stressed in last week's announcement that everyone bring their kids to tonight's concert. The children, unlike that baby, will be old enough to speak and have minds developed enough to corrupt. You've seen the lyrics, so you know exactly where I'm going with this..."
Pearlan took his place onstage, having filled Arashi in and watching gleefully as curious townsfolk did the seats. Unlike the trickling pace at which the spa had drawn its crowd, attendance skyrocketed almost immediately. Perhaps that was because he'd encouraged the residents to bring their whole families, or because those without them formed groups instead of venturing into the woods alone. Soon the demon's quiet, evil musings were drowned out by a storm of chatter and speculation.
"ALRIGHT, ALRIGHT! EVERYONE LISTEN UP!" he started, approaching a primitive microphone stand at the stage's edge. He'd handle the singing, while Ara-kun would play the instruments and provide backing vocals when appropriate. "I'M ABOUT TO POISON ALL YOUR KIDS' EARS, SO DON'T YOU DARE COVER THEM! AFTER THIS, THEY'LL GROW INTO TERRIBLE, RAGE-FILLED ADULTS WHO'LL KILL YOU ALL IN YOUR SLEEP! Because from what the local teenagers have shown me, this is the type of town where grown men still live in their parents' basements..."
The meaning of the words wasn't clear, though they were spoken loud. So when he finished his opening remarks, the spectators didn't know what they were cheering about. Either they did so as a formality, or they were genuinely stupid. But an entire song's worth of profanities would flow unequivocally into their ears, since even idiots understood curse words. Pearlan shook his gold chains confidently, turned his skin black, and breathed the first few fiery phrases into the mic.
"I AIN'T GOT NO MOTHERFUCKIN' FRIENDS! THAT'S WHY I FUCKED YO' BITCH, YOU FAT MOTHERFUCKER!"
~~~
"It's a pleasure, Ren..." Sena managed to say, before the bartender slid the demon another drink and opened a bottle of untapped excitement within him. She'd thought he was only talkative in private, but he instantly became the center of attention in the public space. Were the patrons so drunk that they picked on anyone who met their eyes, or was this how they reacted upon first seeing one of Ren's kind? Did they even know what he was?
Sena was asking a lot of questions, and those she'd voiced weren't being answered. Maybe that was because she'd phrased the ones about Ren's past as statements. If he just didn't want to talk about it, she'd prompt him again once the booze had completely taken over. Hopefully his newfound popularity would die down as everyone sobered up and no one else needed a word with him.
"So much for workplace professionalism," she flatly remarked when the waitress passed out before her. "Or maybe she just went on break and couldn't stop herself. No, she's definitely done for the night."
The girl stayed put as the plastered folks played with Ren like a shiny new toy and waited patiently until what was left of him stumbled back over.
"It's like you have a Blood Demon Art that hypnotizes people into giving you free drinks," Sena quipped, accepting his offer and downing her second glass. She forgot the serious stuff and settled into small talk, her cheeks suffused with red. "That's good, because if you'd ordered more and cleaned out my wallet, I'd have cut your head off. You demons find all kinds of ways to screw with us slayers."
"Unless," she cooed, "getting me tipsy and vulnerable is your way of screwing with me. Don't worry, I'll play along. The lady passed out at the counter makes girls look like they can't hold their liquor, but I'll show you just how wrong that is."
