A few days after the pool incident, the heavy heat of midsummer clung to Ishiyama like a curse. Even for a school full of delinquents who thrived in chaos, the sweltering air had everyone more sluggish and irritable than usual. But in the Oga household, the heat wasn't only from the weather.
Baby Beel lay curled up on a futon, his tiny cheeks flushed red, sweat rolling down his face. His normally mischievous green eyes were half-lidded, and his breaths came shallow and uneven. His little body radiated heat like a furnace.
"Shit," Oga muttered, crouching down and fanning himself. "He's burning up."
Kogen was already kneeling at Beel's side, one hand hovering above the baby's forehead, the other resting gently against his chest. For once, the ever-composed god of death looked genuinely anxious.
"This isn't just a fever," Kogen murmured. His usually calm voice carried a weight of worry. "A demon child's cold manifests in strange ways. His body is expelling heat faster than it should... If this continues..."
Hilda, standing nearby with her arms crossed, frowned deeply. "A summer cold, but far more dangerous than a human's. His power is unstable. If it spirals out of control..."
A crackle of green lightning surged across the room, snapping a picture frame clean off the wall. Oga flinched but Beel didn't even stir.
"Great," Oga groaned. "So he's sick and still frying everything."
Kogen silenced him with a sharp look, then leaned down and wiped Beel's forehead with a cool cloth. His movements were surprisingly tender, the kind that didn't belong to the "God of Death" but to someone who had known the fragile weight of cradling children.
Beel whimpered in his fevered sleep, his small hand reaching out. Instinctively, Kogen caught it and whispered, "Rest, little one. I won't leave you."
Hours passed. The heat worsened. And then something happened that made everyone freeze.
The Zebel Spell—the glowing mark burned into Oga's hand that bound him to Beel—flickered. And then, before their very eyes, it vanished completely.
Oga blinked. "Huh?"
He flexed his fingers. No sting. No glow. Nothing. And then realization hit him.
"...Wait... if the mark's gone... then that means..." He grinned—actually grinned. "That damn shock thing is gone too! Finally! I can go more than fifteen meters without getting fried!"
His voice was almost triumphant.
The room fell silent.
Hilda's eyes widened, her lips parting in disbelief. Kogen froze, his hand still pressed against Beel's. Even Baby Beel twitched at the sound of Oga's voice.
"You... idiot." Hilda's tone was like a dagger. "The child is suffering, and your first thought is freedom?"
"I—" Oga started, but didn't get far.
A sharp kick sent him sprawling out the door and into the hallway wall hard enough to leave a crater.
"I'm disappointed in you," Hilda hissed. "To think you care so little for your own charge."
Oga groaned, peeling himself off the wall. "Oi, what the hell—"
But then he caught Kogen's eyes. Unlike Hilda's fury, Kogen's gaze wasn't angry—it was worse. Disappointment. Quiet. Heavy.
"...Tch." Oga clicked his tongue and turned away, hiding the unease creeping into his chest.
That night, when the house was dark and silent, Kogen stirred from his seat beside Beel. The futon was empty.
Panic struck instantly. "Beel?"
In an instant, Kogen swept through the house, checked every corner, then leapt into the night. His presence rippled across the district like a shadow. He would scour every inch until he found the child.
It didn't take long. In a quiet alley, under the dim glow of a vending machine, Beel sat on the shoulder of none other than Hidetora Tōjō. The towering delinquent was crouched, calmly handing the feverish baby a bottle of water.
"Drink up, little man," Tōjō rumbled with a smile.
Kogen exhaled in relief. But as he stepped closer, he saw it—the Zebel mark glowing faintly on Tōjō's hand.
"...Impossible," Kogen whispered. He knelt, examined the lines—and realized. "A tattoo. Not the true mark."
Still, Beel clung tightly to Tōjō, reluctant to leave his side even when Kogen reached for him. His fevered eyes softened, mistaking Tōjō's tall frame and strong presence for Oga's.
Kogen's heart tightened. He thinks it's his father...
Gently, he gathered Beel into his arms, but the baby still reached back toward Tōjō, babbling weakly.
Kogen looked at Tōjō, an idea sparking in his mind. A lesson. One Oga needed desperately.
"...Tōjō," Kogen said softly. "I owe you thanks. And... I have a favor to ask."
Tōjō tilted his head. "Huh? Favor?"
Kogen wove his tale, voice low, laced with sincerity. "Oga... he loves Beel. More than he admits. But he refuses to shoulder the responsibility. He hides behind excuses. If he continues this way... the boy will suffer." He glanced down at Beel, who whimpered softly against his chest. "I need your help to make him see. To show him what he's denying."
Tōjō frowned, rubbing the back of his neck. "Tch. Sounds like he's a real bastard if he's abandonin' his own kid and wife like this."
Kogen blinked. "...Wife?"
Tōjō jabbed a thumb at him. "You, ain't it? Everyone keeps sayin' Oga's already got a wife. Must mean you. So he dumped you both, huh? Damn. Cold move."
Kogen froze, then gave a soft laugh. Not correcting him might actually serve the plan. "Something like that."
Tōjō clenched a fist, eyes blazing. "Fine. I'll help. Leave it to me."
The next day, Oga was sulking on the school roof, scowling at the horizon. Beel's fever still lingered in his mind, even if he wouldn't admit it. He clenched his hand, staring at the empty skin where the Zebel mark had been.
"Damn it," he muttered. "Why am I even worried? This is what I wanted. Freedom."
He kicked the railing, frustrated, but the hollow feeling in his chest didn't leave.
That was when a figure appeared in his path—Shōjō Aizawa, one of Tōjō's closest men.
"Oga Tatsumi," Aizawa said coolly. "You're wanted. Don't keep him waiting."
Oga smirked. "So Tōjō finally wants a fight, huh? Fine by me."
But when he lunged, Aizawa blocked effortlessly, his strikes fast and sharp. Oga staggered, genuinely caught off guard.
"The hell—" he growled, swinging again, but Aizawa slipped past, landing a clean hit to Oga's ribs that made him wince.
"You're not ready," Aizawa said, before turning his back and walking away.
Oga's fists trembled. "...Tch. Bastard."
The next morning, silence blanketed the Oga household. Too much silence.
Oga shuffled out of his room, scratching his head, only to find Beel's futon empty. Hilda's usual sharp mutterings absent. Kogen's presence gone.
The house was hollow.
"...Oi?" Oga called, frowning. He checked each room, then the yard, then the street. Nothing.
A creeping unease twisted in his gut.
All three—Hilda, Kogen, and Beel—had vanished.
And for the first time, Oga Tatsumi felt truly, utterly alone.