Paved with Good Intentions (PoT, R, 3/?)
Paved with Good Intentions
by surefall and aishuu
Disclaimer: Based on Prince of Tennis, by Konomi.
Notes: Crack fic at its most devilish. Let's take the horrid cliche of making the boys angels and devils and pump it full of semi-plotful sugar. Stir well.
Summary: The one thing Kikumaru really hates is Tezuka, which means he has to show up. Did we mention Hell holds board meetings in Fuji’s garden filled with - you guessed it - cacti? And Mizuki thinks he’s going to heaven - or would, if he wasn’t an atheist?
First parts at quillofferings
In the beginning of time, man was basically an idiot. He left his crops sitting a small, airless place for too long and expected them not to rot. Foolish, foolish man. Of course they did! That's when he discovered that he could drink the rot (why he decided to drink the rot is a mystery we hope never to truly uncover) and after he had managed to pry himself from the worship of holes in the ground and rid himself of those pesky hangovers ... alcohol was born. This was a discovery that really just led to man being yet more stupid, for he was killing any brain cells he had managed to accumulate.
But this really has nothing to do with the matter at hand, unless you count the fact that man likes to make small cave-like places in which he may drink his alcohol in the coveted time-honored fashion of the very first drink. Man likes tradition. In this tradition, Shinji sat with his mug in one hand and peanuts in the other, morosely staring at his barkeep, who was industriously scrubbing the bar in order to ignore Shinji's new favorite drinking companion: Kikumaru Eiji.
Eiji was also clutching a mug in the time honored fashion of drunks everywhere, but he chose to display himself in the time honored fashion of dames: leaning against the bar, a long smoke dangling from the free hand, while one's clothes make an effort not to spontaneously detach from one's skin and fall to the floor. Actually, Eiji had considered this, and discarded it as too scarring to mere mortal minds. Not to mention that the threat of their falling was giving Oishi a harder time than if they actually fell.
Oishi was trying very hard to keep his eyes above Eiji's neck, and ignore the way Eiji's low hip-huggers seemed determined to desert his body at any moment. That, however, left him looking at Eiji's mouth, which was wet with liquor and from the way Eiji occasionally traced his tongue oh-so-temptingly around it. It was times like these that Oishi offered prayers of thanks for the apron he was able to wear as the bartender, because it nicely hid the rather large boner that made it hard to move.
Finally getting irritated by Oishi's constant distraction, Shinji asked the first thing that came to his mind. "What's your favorite color, Oishi-san?"
"Red," Oishi said, unable to keep from his gaze from drifting to Eiji's hair, admiring the way the tendrils curled against his cheeks, and brought of his blue-violet eyes.
Eiji blew Oishi a little kiss and absently pulled a lock of his hair. Shinji shot Eiji a dark look and thumped his beer morosely. What was it about redheads? Horrible, irritating ... sensuous ... Shinji shook his head. "Have any hobbies?"
"I sing, a little," Oishi admitted. He was part of heaven's choir, so he supposed that counted. "I like music."
Kamio liked music, too. Shinji shuffled his mug around, trying to work on something more constructive to say, something exceptionally witty and daring that would keep Oishi talking until he could think up something better to say. "Do you have any pets?" Witty and daring was not forthcoming.
Eiji giggled at that and purred, giving a little wriggle, "He has me!"
Shinji scowled, "I wasn't talking to you. Who asked you to be here anyway? Why don't you just go away, you're sparkly and sexy and useless and I don't want you to be here anymore. Go away."
Oishi kind of agreed with the not wanting Eiji around bit, but his reasons were a bit different. Especially since Eiji was wiggling and pouting and... well, Oishi was shifting a lot himself, trying to find a comfortable way to stand. Still, he couldn't let Shinji act like this.
"Ibu-san, you shouldn't be mean to Eiji," he chided.
Shinji hunched farther over his beer and scooted one seat away from Eiji, obviously sulking. "He deserved it."
"He's been very nice to you," Oishi said. He hated having to defend a demon, but he always had to tell the truth. "You should treat others as you wish to be treated."
Oishi was defending the interloper! Fine! Shinji had his beer! He didn't need Oishi -- to talk to Oishi! -- anyway!
Eiji smirked and stretched. It was absolutely amazing how he didn't have to do anything but sit here and look like his usual dashing self and Oishi would manage to alienate his own charge. Ah, the truth ... it was crueler than any lie. "You say the sweetest things, Oishi-kun. It's almost like hearing an angel speak!"
"Um, um..." Oishi stammered, his thoughts scattered. He couldn't avoid looking at how Kikumaru's "Sex is a sin - sin with me!" shirt rode up to expose his trim abdomen. It really wouldn't hurt to reach out and touch it for a second, to see if the skin was as smooth as it had been in 1874, would it? Oishi wondered.
Shinji felt that eyes should have the power to shoot lasers at people so they can die horrifying deaths. Unfortunately for him and lucky for Eiji, his sudden desire for super powers went unanswered by the most high god. However, it seemed that some other god, perhaps the imp of perversity himself, was listening in ... for the door to the bar swung open and in strode Tezuka.
Tezuka did not believe in bar-hopping as a sport, therefore, his clothes did not reflect the standard in bar-hopping fair. There was a button-down blue shirt with the cuffs rolled up the elbows and dark slacks instead of mesh shirts and low slung hip huggers. Usually Tezuka managed to be mistaken for a salary-man. He nodded to Oishi, ignored Eiji completely (much to Shinji's secret glee), and calmly asked for a beer.
To say that Eiji was put out was an understatement. Eiji was livid. Eiji was filled with hatred and fury. Eiji was ... not going to let this slide! He ordered another jack with coke.
Oishi stared at Tezuka in disbelief and relief - and a very small bit of disappointment which he didn't want to admit to. Tezuka had pulled him out of Eiji's clutches four times in the past, and it looked likely that he would be chalking up another to his tally before all was said and done. "T-Tezuka!" he stuttered, before offering a weak smile. "What are you doing here?"
Like he didn't know.
Tezuka folded his hands, completely unperturbed by Oishi's flustered look. It seemed like Eiji had really been getting to him this time. A good thing Tezuka had decided to drop by. "Checking up on you."
"Ah, that's kind of you," Oishi said as he retrieved the drink for his superior angel. It was flattering, in a way, that an angel of Tezuka's stature would spend so much time making sure he was okay.
Eiji downed his drink in one gulp and rattled the empty glass in a demanding fashion, "Oishi-kun! A little service here!" It was his turn to wish looks could kill as he stared at the side of Tezuka's head.
Tezuka felt not a drop of instant lazer death. In fact, he felt quite healthy! Except for the persistent eye-problem that lingered in all his manifestations, the fall-out from the sight of the blaze of the Host's once brightest star ceasing to exist. Tezuka took a careful sip of his beer and decided it was good, "I worry that you might fall under dubious influences," he replied evenly, "And please put this on Sengoku's tab."
Shinji snickered over his beer. This new arrival was positively wonderful. Eiji was in a snit of fury at being displaced and Sengoku was going to have a flail after finding out someone was ringing up his eternal bar tab.
"Ah..." Oishi put a hand behind his head. "I really don't know..." he said, but then decided he'd rather annoy Sengoku than get on Tezuka's bad side. You just didn't piss off the angel who had vanquished the Big Bad.
Tezuka glanced only barely in Eiji's direction, "How are you, Kikumaru?"
Eiji scowled, "Peachy keen and cherry red. Oishi-kun! What about my drink?!"
"You have one right in front of you, Eiji," Oishi said, unable to remember a second order.
Eiji waves his empty glass again, looking very put out. "Does this look full to you?! I only asked you three times, Oishi-kun!!" He drooped over, shooting a secret furious glance at the archangel sitting next to him, and made a sad little sniff. "You forgot me ... "
"I could never forget you, Eiji!" Oishi said, and he quickly refilled the glass, ignoring the disapproving way Tezuka was looking at him.
Shinji thumped his mug with a snort as Eiji gave Oishi his most hopeful look and asked, "Really?"
Oishi jumped. He couldn't believe he wasn't paying enough attention to Shinji. He was supposed to be redeeming him! Staring at his three patrons, he knew exactly how it felt to have divided loyalties.
*
The lord of hell liked to hold the biweekly status meetings in his gardens. Sadly for his chief lieutenants - though not unexpectedly - they weren't normal gardens.
Fuji liked cacti. Small, large - it didn't matter. Forget about apples - cacti were where it was at, as far as the master of all evil was concerned.
Niou materialized carefully, managing to land in one of the few spaces that none of the spiky plants occupied. From the whimpering that already filled the space, Dan hadn't been so lucky - but then he'd always been a bit clumsy.
Having mapped out the gardens before hand, run a careful spectrograph over former data, and analyzing the quantity of chaos ... Inui materialized just left of a set of Stenocereus (Machaerocereus) eruca, also known as the creeping devil cactus for the traditionally illiterate. He adjusted his glasses and flipped out his notebook to make the appropriate adjustment to his equations.
Dan, meanwhile, had carefully pried himself from the cacti and the cacti's spines from her person. Mou! Why did Fuji always have to hold these meetings here? He knew Dan was clumsy!
Niou crossed his arms, and wove his way through. Fuji had anti-levitating charms in the area, which meant walking was required. It was positively barbaric... imagine, walking. Next Fuji would put some anti-teleportation wards in, and force people to enter through a door.
Fuji waited for them, idly checking the spines of a devil's tongue (Ferocactus latispinus Inui scribbled down) cactus. He was always first, which gave them no time to plot behind his back. It really wasn't fair - didn't he know somewhere in the Evil Overlord's Handbook that he was Supposed to make a grand and glorious entrance after his peons had gathered?
Dan squirmed his way through the trial by prickles, taking up an assorted collection of pricks, pokes, and just all out stabs before he finally came into Fuji's Presence, where he sighed and flopped down on his buns with a pout, wobbling his eyes in the Lord of Evil's direction.
Inui slid in beside Dan, notoriously poke free, and sat down on nothing. Nothing was Inui's preferred seating of choice, since chairs actually soothed one's associates ... the associates that weren't numbered in Hell's Infernally Best, that is.
Niou, being Niou, chose a likely looking cactus and plopped on it, after casting an impenetrable charm on his own skin. It was chancy to do so, since Fuji could decide at any moment to undo it, but those little challenges were what made life worth living. Last time he'd turned a cactus into a sofa, and that hadn't gone over well... it was better to learn from it.
Fuji, luckily, seemed amused by Niou's audacity, chuckling as he turned his attention to his top three. On his face was a smile that had fooled millions, but the entire group was smart enough to realize it was simply a mask for the most sadistic mind in existence. "How is everyone today?" he asked.
"I was fine until I came, desu," Dan informed him, pointedly rubbing an arm.
Inui's answer is smooth as silk, "Sufficiently positive, thank you. You?"
Niou merely slumped down so he was a bit more comfortable on the cactus and raised an eyebrow. "I hereby motion we postpone this meeting until last week."
They ignored him. He made the same motion at every meeting.
"You should look into that rut you've fallen into, Niou," Inui murmured, stretching his long legs out.
"I think these meetings are a rut," Niou shot back. "They're a waste of time."
"Of course they are," Fuji agreed pleasantly. "That's why we have them. People expect hell to have board meetings discussing the bottom line and performance goals."
"No, they don't. We didn't use to have them!"
"We didn't use to have so much middle-management," Fuji replied. "Don't you read Dilbert?"
Dan sighs. Niou was so right. They used to get to run completely wild ... what fun that used to be. "I don't see why we have to structure our lives to mortal expectations."
"I'd hate to disappoint them," Fuji said, and the puppy-dog like look on his face matched Dan at his best.
"It's not like they're even going to know about these meetings when they get here, desu ... "
"Yes, but we will, and I think the quality of the work we do is reflected by our sincerity," Fuji replied.
"Sincerity? This is hell!" Niou spat. "There's nothing sincere about it!"
There were agreeing nods from Dan and Inui, though Inui just agreed because he wanted to see Fuji's return to that and not because he actually had anything against the board meetings.
The look of disappointment on Fuji's face was heartbreaking - had any of them any hearts to break. "Niou, I would have thought you of all people would have understood. The best lie is one that comes from the heart."
Dan folded his arms over his narrow chest and pouted, "We don't have hearts."
"Indeed. We don't even have internal organs since we don't need them," Inui supplied.
Fuji tsked. "I'm surrounded by people who don't understand the metaphorical. No wonder we haven't managed to have Armageddon yet."
Dan sulkily poked a bit of rock with his toe, "Armageddon this, Armageddon that ... what bout having some fun, desu? All we do is work, work, work."
"Yes, speaking of that..." Fuji's voice lowered a bit, indicating he was ready to get down to business. "When's the next time we'll be seeing Akutsu, Dan-kun?"
"Soon ... " Dan sighed, flopping back on the gravel and pushing his headband farther into his hair, "I'll get him back soon."
"Still having problems with Kawamura?" Niou teased.
Dan scowled, which looked more like a pout, really, "I can handle Kawamura. He's not really paying attention anymore."
"I miss seeing Akutsu around here," Fuji said almost gently. "The place really isn't the same without him." The statement, while mild, was a warning.
"He'll be coming back soon, desu. Soon."
Inui opened his notebook. He didn't need to, but he felt like checking it anyway, "Even if we were to gain Akutsu, it is most a 100% probability that we will lose him again."
"So? It's fun while it lasts," Niou replied, twisting his hair between his fingers. "Speaking of fun, Inui, do you have any predictions on Ryoma's latest venture?"
"Venture?" Inui echoed, rapidly filling paper.
"Didn't you hear?" Niou gleefully bounced, ignoring the quills. "He's working on damning the granddaughter of the miko who exorcised Nanjirou!" Dan squeaked, but Niou merely smirked. "Of course, he didn't realize it was Ryuuzaki-sama's granddaughter in the first place... it was chance he ended up there, I think..."
Fuji snickered to himself, earning a suspicious look from Niou. "Ah, funny how things work out, isn't it?"
Niou seemed to consider whether it was wise to challenge the guy who signed his paychecks, but apparently decided not to. "Anyway, apparently Ryuuzaki-sensei has his number... he's cleaning floors like an apprentice..."
Now Fuji was laughing outright. "I have a Porsche I need him to do when he gets back..."
Niou ignored him again. "...and meanwhile, Kirihara is getting ahead of him in what Ryoma's original target was, and damning a whole college math class!"
There was a flurry of paper and scribbling from Inui while Dan giggled, "Polishing floors, desu! If only Kirihara heard about that ... " he trailed off in thought before grinning in an almost angelic fashion.
Inui added the final plus mark and let the equation tally itself up, "Interesting. On current data, we have a 95% chance of damning the granddaughter, but a 50% chance of losing Ryouma in the process. She must have a little miko blood in her."
"She's completely clueless. She's no Ryuuzaki-sama," Niou said smugly. "Though I can't figure out why Ryuuzaki-sama hasn't just performed a ritual and exorcized him, too. I mean, she got rid of Nanjiroh."
That in itself was an accomplishment. Nanjiroh had been one of the four greatest demons in hell, equal to Inui, Niou and Dan. He'd been older than all of them, and more perverted as well. It'd been about forty years since he'd been vanquished, but the shock was still having repercussions through Hell. Many devils were fighting for the coveted spot of fourth advisor to the Lord of Hell, and whoever won it would have a prize indeed. Right now it looked like a dead heat between Ryoma, who had been Nanjiroh's "son," and Kirihara, who was amazingly talented and had Fuji’s special attention.
"Maybe she likes watching him wash floors?" Dan asked brightly, giggling a bit at the thought of Ryuuzaki-sama looming over a tiny Ryouma devil.
"Maybe she likes watching cute boys bend over?"
"That too!"
"Or maybe she's plotting something else," Fuji suggested. "Speaking of plotting, I heard that Sengoku was hanging around Kirihara?"
"I believe Yagyuu made a statement to the effect that Sengoku had found the 'bleed hell dry' button," Inui supplied, referring to the notebook, which could basically be said to be the all-knowing that didn't live in heaven.
Dan groans, "I though Sengoku was busy with the Florida election ... wait, that was Sanada, desu."
Niou preened. It had been one of his nicest bits of work in years. "I'm already working with Touji on teaching hackers how to mess with the new voting machines," he said proudly.
Inui looked interested, "Really? I am impressed. May I look over your figures?"
"Then what's Sengoku been doing?" Dan looks over at Inui, expecting him to know all the answers.
Distracted from the search for data, Inui flips to the very small section headed by Sengoku's name. Name, rank, serial number. This wasn't going to do. He sighed, "My data is inconclusive in this matter."
Niou had often heard of Sengoku, but didn't really know much about him. "He's a bit of a mystery, isn't he?" he said, perking up. He did love new toys.
Dan shrugged a bit, scratching at one of his cactus wounds, "He's just hard to track down, desu. He's not one of the flashy angels." He looked up at Niou through a fringe of dark hair and blinked equally dark eyes innocently at him.
Niou found it annoying that Dan was one of the oldest beings in existence and didn't even look old enough to shave. Talk about packaging with false advertising. "Well, I'm sure he's finding Kirihara plenty flashy enough for the both of them."
For some reason, Fuji laughed at that.
"Is there anything else?" Niou asked testily, wanting to get out of there. Yagyuu had hinted that he had plans for that afternoon, and he wanted to know what - maybe they could screw. Of course, that was what they did every afternoon, but it was still fun.
Inui closed his notebook, "I can not think of anything to add, though I would still like to get together with Muromachi," he inclines his head in Niou's direction. It paid to be at least somewhat polite, "If you have no objections."
Dan just shook his head, poking at a tiny cacti by snaking his finger through the thorns. He wondered idly if he could stab the little thing back in exchange for his travel wounds.
"Fine, fine! We're out of here!" Niou said, standing up and preparing to take off.
"Oh, I have something!" Fuji suddenly chimed in, as though the thought just occurred to him.
Shit, Niou thought, knowing better than to buy that. Fuji had probably been saving it just for that moment. He knew there was nothing worse than to keep people longer.
Dan pretended to look attentive (while still deciding what horror to wreak on the prickly equivalent to shrubbery) and Inui's notebook snapped back open with an audible metaphoric crack. "Do tell."
"I'm going on vacation! Take care of the shop while I'm gone!" A suitcase appeared on top of one of the cacti, and Fuji was suddenly wearing a horrible Hawaiian shirt. He waved his fingers cheerfully, and then with a poof of melodramatic smoke, he vanished.
Niou stared at the spot where Fuji had vanished in shock, for once truly taken aback. "What in Hell did the Devil just do?" he bellowed, wondering if the Apocalypse was about to start, and who had forgotten to send him the memo.
Dan came close to whining as he flopped back on the ground, "Awww, man ... he always does this! I don't wanna take care of the garden, desu! You do it, Inui."
"Do not be absurd, I'm much too busy ... Niou can do it."
"I saw we leave it to Oshitari. Delegate, my friends," Niou said, a frown on his features. "If you can pry Mukahi off him long enough..."
Dan smiled angelically and stabbed the cactus with a suddenly sharp finger, "Let's have Taki do it. Then if anything goes wrong, desu .... "
Inui adjusted his glasses, "The idea has merit."
Normally Niou would have gleefully anticipated the downfall of one of his subordinates, but he was actually worried - well, as worried as he got. Scenarios about what Fuji was really up to danced through his head, and none of them boded well for Niou's continuing his streak as the most successful meddler on earth. "The last time Fuji went on vacation, didn't his ship hit an iceberg?" he asked.
Inui idly watched Dan turn the cactus into fillet. Fuji on a vacation was a time of great interest and jockeying for position. He was already looking forward to the applications of the fallout. "Yes. The Titantic, I believe."
"And.... the time before that, there was the volcano and that cute little Greek village..." Niou drawled, crossing his arms. He could just think of the fun, and he almost cried.
Dan moved on to the second cactus, "I remember Pompey ... it had the best kabobs in the Greece. And the prettiest women, desu."
"I think that might be only your fond recollection. I believe the women in Corinth were much more attractive."
"Though the Greek men were all pretty ugly..." Niou said with a sigh. This time he did stamp his foot. "Do you realize what he just did to us?"
"Left us with the bag while he has fun?" Inui asked, with something near innocence.
"And Inui wins what's behind door number two! We're stuck here!" Niou wailed. He'd thought about going up and checking in on Kirihara - and maybe critiquing his seduction attempts while he was at it - but without the Lord of Hell in Hell, all three of the highest-ranking demons would be needed to keep things from going to, well, complete and utter...
Well, you get the idea. Some sense of order had to be kept, even though it was against Niou's nature.
Dan beams brightly at Niou, like he just won the real prize behind door number two, "But that's the /idea/, Niou-san! He left us behind! All /alone/, desu. Completely in charge, desu~!"
Moments like these remind Inui why Dan is both one of the Four and one of the oldest among them. He had a mind for taking advantage of every opportunity that was handed to him on a platter, "Perhaps Dan and I can handle the leg work if you would like to continue your plans, Niou?"
Niou knew he was caught like a fish in a trap - which was exactly what Fuji had probably intended. He was smart enough to realize that Fuji would ultimately manage to reclaim his position with ease... but for Niou to keep his own, he'd have to fight for it.
Oh, well. He'd been falling into a routine, anyway.
"Maybe we should have a few... shakedown drills?" Niou suggested. A slight smile curved his lips. "And I believe Yagyuu might have a few suggestions as well on how we can balance our books a bit better?"
"It would be beneficial to employ a few cost cutting measures. Hellish Communications is slowing down operations by 25%."
"I can think of several," Niou said. A grin lit his face as he started to think of several possibilities. Corporate restructuring was such fun!
*
Math class: the place at which young people come together to exhibit extreme unhappiness about their ability to pass. Study period: the time during math class in which the professor finally gets fed up with attempting to pound knowledge into thick heads and goes to his office to have some coffee ... with maybe a generous dose of gin. Group: the place in which students sitting in the general vicinity of one another come together to talk instead of actually do work.
This Group was where Sengoku was now, chatting it up with his usual cohort in crime, the demon that was supposed to be his rival (if we spoke technically of how these things are supposed to work), the smooching two-some, and the poor fool who just kept getting stuck with them.
Sengoku spun his pencil absently, "So ... I wonder how many angels fit on the head of a pencil."
Yuuta looked at him strangely. "It depends if they've manifested into a human form or not," he said.
"Huh?" The look Kamio gave him was of sheer bewilderment.
Yuuta, though, had already lost interest in the conversation, returning his attention instead to the imaginary numbers which he just couldn't wrap his imagination around.
Saeki's face got that look that said he was prepared to be sufficiently amused by anything Yuuta was prepared to say and by god he hoped Sengoku could keep him going. Anything with Yuuta plus religion was bound to be just good crack.
The pencil spun again, "Well, if they were humans they probably wouldn't fit on here, so what about if they weren't?"
"An infinite number, and none. I've heard that riddle before," Kamio said crossly. "Can we please get back to work?" He was so sick of this study group - he was trying to get at least a B, and there was no way that'd happen if these incompetents kept pulling him down.
Sengoku pretends to look affronted, "This isn't a riddle! This is an important theological question! Up there with the nature of good and evil! It's ... like ... fundamental!"
"I always found the fundamentalists fun," Kirihara said. "So ready to damn others..." His eyes gleamed as he taunted his counterpart.
"I'm an atheist," Kamio pronounced, lying through his teeth. "What's the answer to number twelve? I got 42."
"Damning others ... isn't it that you damn yourself, though?" Sengoku struggles briefly over making a joke about 42 before grinning, "I dunno, Kamio ... if I told you the answer, would you remove that stick from your ass and join us?"
Kamio scowled. "This is a math class. Go take a religion or philosophy class if you want to talk about god."
"You'd reject wisdom, then? Just because you don't like the who, when, and where of the source?"
Kirihara slung an arm around Kamio's shoulder, earning himself a dirty look. "It would be a different matter if it was wisdom, but you know what they say about not suffering fools."
Sengoku acknowledges Kirihara's deft maneuver with a nod, "Eh, we're wondering off the subject ... what were we talking about? The nature of good and evil?"
"You tell me. You started this," Kirihara said. "I think it was something about pins and needles..."
"Angels and devils?"
"How about which people would rather be?" Kirihara challenged, tilting his head at Saeki. "What do you think?"
Saeki considered it, mainly because anything was better than doing more math and hey, lookit Kamio get annoyed. He flashed an easy grin, "I'd be a devil, since it's not like I'm making it to heaven anyway."
"Even though heaven's got all the big guns?" Sengoku asks, looking amused.
"Shit, I don't have to like, work at being a devil. I'll just sit there and be the demon of laziness or something."
"Demons don't get to be lazy," Kirihara said in amusement. "Why do you think there's such hell on earth?"
"Speaking from experience?" Kamio asked, finally managing to push his chair out of arm's reach of both Kirihara and Sengoku. He leveled another Look on them, before trying to return to his math.
"Maybe. I'd be you'd be an angel, with that stick shoved up your ass."
"I do not have a stick shoved up my ass!"
"Prove it!"
Kamio stood up, grabbed Kirihara's book, and whacked him a good one square in the head. "Devilish enough for you?"
"Fuck you," Kirihara said, while inwardly gloating. There was hope for Kamio yet.
Saeki groaned, "Forget it, I'll just die and go to hell where I can do jack except burn."
Sengoku managed to look put out that Kamio hadn't thought him obnoxious enough to smack, "I'm hurt, Kamio ... you don't love me! Where was my beating?"
"You can go find someone else to whack you. He's my dom," Kirihara purred in return.
"Didn't you ever learn to share?"
"Sharing is good, and that's something for angels. We've already decided that both Saeki and Kamio are going to hell, so... what about you, Mizuki?" Kirihara asked, snapping Mizuki out of his exploration of Yuuta's throat with his tongue. "Or is that a moot question?"
"Ah, but sharing during sex is a sin, and that's something for devils-"
Mizuki sends Kirihara this look that stated quite clearly that he was interrupting his smut. With three pairs of vaguely interested eyes and one pair of disgusted ones, he realized that he was probably not going to escape from this with just a glare, so in the interest of getting back to his smut he answered, "Speaking purely philosophically ... an angel, of course. You could ever doubt?"
Saeki choked and had to be whacked on the back by Sengoku. "There, there, Saeki, I know it's a load of horse shit, but there was no need to swallow it."
Yuuta looked at where Mizuki's hand was, and then up at his lover's eyes in disbelief. "Mizuki, you sin every day! Why do you think you're going to heaven? You never show any repentance for anything!"
"I suppose then you'll be joining me, since you're sinning with me," Mizuki sniffed, pulling his hand away and folding it across his chest, miffed, "Not that it matters, of course, since there is no such thing as heaven or hell."
Kirihara and Sengoku's eyes met. It figured that Mizuki was an atheist - and since atheists believed in nothing, they got exactly that when they died. Nothing. Oblivion. Void.
Kirihara almost pitied him. Almost.
Yuuta, though, pushed Mizuki's hand away, his breathing beginning to quicken the way it did whenever they had sex - but the expression on his face was anything but aroused. It approached panic. "How can you believe in nothing?" he demanded.
Mizuki arched an eyebrow, "Quite easily. There's no evidence to support anything like god."
Sengoku spun his pencil absently, amused despite himself about how one could take a class that proved the hand of divine creation and not realize it.
"There's plenty of evidence! All you need to do is look around you!" said Yuuta fervently.
"Evidence for evolution, not for god," Mizuki pointed out primly.
"Don't you believe in miracles?" Yuuta asked wistfully, and his heart was in his eyes as pain shimmered there.
"I believe in unexplainable events, which become explained once man gets around to doing a little legwork."
Yuuta looked about ready to pitch a fit, and Kirihara waited with eagerness. Maybe the perfect couple could have a nasty break-up that would damage both of them... It was delicious.
Sengoku leaned back in his seat and stuck his pencil behind his ear, folding his fingers in front of himself thoughtfully, "There is nothing unexplainable because everything in the world works upon a set of principles, like a computer works on chips and electricity. But where did the principles come from?"
Mizuki frowned, distracted from Yuuta's fit by the simple and altogether amazing fact that Sengoku was not giggling like a fool in the background. "They were already there."
"How did they get there?"
"Well ... the Big Bang."
"So you expect me to believe that an accidental, unprecedented explosion in the midst of nothingness manage to construct a set of laws that works together so flawlessly that nothing in the universe spontaneously combusts?"
Mizuki paused and then scowled, glowering darkly at the unpleasant feeling that even if he were to retort, Sengoku would have an answer that would back him even farther into the corner he was being trapped in. He sniffed and changed the subject, "What about you? You're no angel."
"I never claimed to be one!" Sengoku smirks.
"Never?" Kirihara said, drawling the word slowly. He had his prey set in his sights - Sengoku was well and truly trapped. Kirihara knew that in some point in his career, Sengoku had probably announced himself, and... well, this was a beautiful lie.
A slow serpentine smile slid its way across Sengoku's face as green eyes shifted from Mizuki to Kirihara, "Never."
"Then you'd prefer to be a devil, then?" Kirihara was stunned, unable to believe how Sengoku had managed that.
"There's a certain freedom in evil, neh? Being an angel would be kinda limiting."
Kirihara didn't understand it! Sengoku was an angel... wasn't he?
Suddenly suspicious, he shut his eyes and tapped into a bit of his inner power, before opening them briefly. The "other sight" allowed him a closer look at Sengoku's aura... and he was nearly blinded by the power of it.
Yuuta, who had been watching them with interest, stared at Kirihara. Had he imagined it, or had his eyes just turned the color of blood for the briefest of instances? He rubbed his own eyes, and Kirihara's eyes were that pretty blue-green he rather envied, so... well, maybe he needed more sleep.
Kirihara felt like he'd been hit by a truck. The aura he'd seen had been one of the most powerful he'd ever looked at - but it was definitely angelic, despite the strange coloration and ambiguity to parts of it. His head was splitting, and his usual sarcasm fell beneath sheer confusion.
Who on earth - or in heaven or hell, whichever applied - was Sengoku?
by surefall and aishuu
Disclaimer: Based on Prince of Tennis, by Konomi.
Notes: Crack fic at its most devilish. Let's take the horrid cliche of making the boys angels and devils and pump it full of semi-plotful sugar. Stir well.
Summary: The one thing Kikumaru really hates is Tezuka, which means he has to show up. Did we mention Hell holds board meetings in Fuji’s garden filled with - you guessed it - cacti? And Mizuki thinks he’s going to heaven - or would, if he wasn’t an atheist?
First parts at quillofferings
In the beginning of time, man was basically an idiot. He left his crops sitting a small, airless place for too long and expected them not to rot. Foolish, foolish man. Of course they did! That's when he discovered that he could drink the rot (why he decided to drink the rot is a mystery we hope never to truly uncover) and after he had managed to pry himself from the worship of holes in the ground and rid himself of those pesky hangovers ... alcohol was born. This was a discovery that really just led to man being yet more stupid, for he was killing any brain cells he had managed to accumulate.
But this really has nothing to do with the matter at hand, unless you count the fact that man likes to make small cave-like places in which he may drink his alcohol in the coveted time-honored fashion of the very first drink. Man likes tradition. In this tradition, Shinji sat with his mug in one hand and peanuts in the other, morosely staring at his barkeep, who was industriously scrubbing the bar in order to ignore Shinji's new favorite drinking companion: Kikumaru Eiji.
Eiji was also clutching a mug in the time honored fashion of drunks everywhere, but he chose to display himself in the time honored fashion of dames: leaning against the bar, a long smoke dangling from the free hand, while one's clothes make an effort not to spontaneously detach from one's skin and fall to the floor. Actually, Eiji had considered this, and discarded it as too scarring to mere mortal minds. Not to mention that the threat of their falling was giving Oishi a harder time than if they actually fell.
Oishi was trying very hard to keep his eyes above Eiji's neck, and ignore the way Eiji's low hip-huggers seemed determined to desert his body at any moment. That, however, left him looking at Eiji's mouth, which was wet with liquor and from the way Eiji occasionally traced his tongue oh-so-temptingly around it. It was times like these that Oishi offered prayers of thanks for the apron he was able to wear as the bartender, because it nicely hid the rather large boner that made it hard to move.
Finally getting irritated by Oishi's constant distraction, Shinji asked the first thing that came to his mind. "What's your favorite color, Oishi-san?"
"Red," Oishi said, unable to keep from his gaze from drifting to Eiji's hair, admiring the way the tendrils curled against his cheeks, and brought of his blue-violet eyes.
Eiji blew Oishi a little kiss and absently pulled a lock of his hair. Shinji shot Eiji a dark look and thumped his beer morosely. What was it about redheads? Horrible, irritating ... sensuous ... Shinji shook his head. "Have any hobbies?"
"I sing, a little," Oishi admitted. He was part of heaven's choir, so he supposed that counted. "I like music."
Kamio liked music, too. Shinji shuffled his mug around, trying to work on something more constructive to say, something exceptionally witty and daring that would keep Oishi talking until he could think up something better to say. "Do you have any pets?" Witty and daring was not forthcoming.
Eiji giggled at that and purred, giving a little wriggle, "He has me!"
Shinji scowled, "I wasn't talking to you. Who asked you to be here anyway? Why don't you just go away, you're sparkly and sexy and useless and I don't want you to be here anymore. Go away."
Oishi kind of agreed with the not wanting Eiji around bit, but his reasons were a bit different. Especially since Eiji was wiggling and pouting and... well, Oishi was shifting a lot himself, trying to find a comfortable way to stand. Still, he couldn't let Shinji act like this.
"Ibu-san, you shouldn't be mean to Eiji," he chided.
Shinji hunched farther over his beer and scooted one seat away from Eiji, obviously sulking. "He deserved it."
"He's been very nice to you," Oishi said. He hated having to defend a demon, but he always had to tell the truth. "You should treat others as you wish to be treated."
Oishi was defending the interloper! Fine! Shinji had his beer! He didn't need Oishi -- to talk to Oishi! -- anyway!
Eiji smirked and stretched. It was absolutely amazing how he didn't have to do anything but sit here and look like his usual dashing self and Oishi would manage to alienate his own charge. Ah, the truth ... it was crueler than any lie. "You say the sweetest things, Oishi-kun. It's almost like hearing an angel speak!"
"Um, um..." Oishi stammered, his thoughts scattered. He couldn't avoid looking at how Kikumaru's "Sex is a sin - sin with me!" shirt rode up to expose his trim abdomen. It really wouldn't hurt to reach out and touch it for a second, to see if the skin was as smooth as it had been in 1874, would it? Oishi wondered.
Shinji felt that eyes should have the power to shoot lasers at people so they can die horrifying deaths. Unfortunately for him and lucky for Eiji, his sudden desire for super powers went unanswered by the most high god. However, it seemed that some other god, perhaps the imp of perversity himself, was listening in ... for the door to the bar swung open and in strode Tezuka.
Tezuka did not believe in bar-hopping as a sport, therefore, his clothes did not reflect the standard in bar-hopping fair. There was a button-down blue shirt with the cuffs rolled up the elbows and dark slacks instead of mesh shirts and low slung hip huggers. Usually Tezuka managed to be mistaken for a salary-man. He nodded to Oishi, ignored Eiji completely (much to Shinji's secret glee), and calmly asked for a beer.
To say that Eiji was put out was an understatement. Eiji was livid. Eiji was filled with hatred and fury. Eiji was ... not going to let this slide! He ordered another jack with coke.
Oishi stared at Tezuka in disbelief and relief - and a very small bit of disappointment which he didn't want to admit to. Tezuka had pulled him out of Eiji's clutches four times in the past, and it looked likely that he would be chalking up another to his tally before all was said and done. "T-Tezuka!" he stuttered, before offering a weak smile. "What are you doing here?"
Like he didn't know.
Tezuka folded his hands, completely unperturbed by Oishi's flustered look. It seemed like Eiji had really been getting to him this time. A good thing Tezuka had decided to drop by. "Checking up on you."
"Ah, that's kind of you," Oishi said as he retrieved the drink for his superior angel. It was flattering, in a way, that an angel of Tezuka's stature would spend so much time making sure he was okay.
Eiji downed his drink in one gulp and rattled the empty glass in a demanding fashion, "Oishi-kun! A little service here!" It was his turn to wish looks could kill as he stared at the side of Tezuka's head.
Tezuka felt not a drop of instant lazer death. In fact, he felt quite healthy! Except for the persistent eye-problem that lingered in all his manifestations, the fall-out from the sight of the blaze of the Host's once brightest star ceasing to exist. Tezuka took a careful sip of his beer and decided it was good, "I worry that you might fall under dubious influences," he replied evenly, "And please put this on Sengoku's tab."
Shinji snickered over his beer. This new arrival was positively wonderful. Eiji was in a snit of fury at being displaced and Sengoku was going to have a flail after finding out someone was ringing up his eternal bar tab.
"Ah..." Oishi put a hand behind his head. "I really don't know..." he said, but then decided he'd rather annoy Sengoku than get on Tezuka's bad side. You just didn't piss off the angel who had vanquished the Big Bad.
Tezuka glanced only barely in Eiji's direction, "How are you, Kikumaru?"
Eiji scowled, "Peachy keen and cherry red. Oishi-kun! What about my drink?!"
"You have one right in front of you, Eiji," Oishi said, unable to remember a second order.
Eiji waves his empty glass again, looking very put out. "Does this look full to you?! I only asked you three times, Oishi-kun!!" He drooped over, shooting a secret furious glance at the archangel sitting next to him, and made a sad little sniff. "You forgot me ... "
"I could never forget you, Eiji!" Oishi said, and he quickly refilled the glass, ignoring the disapproving way Tezuka was looking at him.
Shinji thumped his mug with a snort as Eiji gave Oishi his most hopeful look and asked, "Really?"
Oishi jumped. He couldn't believe he wasn't paying enough attention to Shinji. He was supposed to be redeeming him! Staring at his three patrons, he knew exactly how it felt to have divided loyalties.
*
The lord of hell liked to hold the biweekly status meetings in his gardens. Sadly for his chief lieutenants - though not unexpectedly - they weren't normal gardens.
Fuji liked cacti. Small, large - it didn't matter. Forget about apples - cacti were where it was at, as far as the master of all evil was concerned.
Niou materialized carefully, managing to land in one of the few spaces that none of the spiky plants occupied. From the whimpering that already filled the space, Dan hadn't been so lucky - but then he'd always been a bit clumsy.
Having mapped out the gardens before hand, run a careful spectrograph over former data, and analyzing the quantity of chaos ... Inui materialized just left of a set of Stenocereus (Machaerocereus) eruca, also known as the creeping devil cactus for the traditionally illiterate. He adjusted his glasses and flipped out his notebook to make the appropriate adjustment to his equations.
Dan, meanwhile, had carefully pried himself from the cacti and the cacti's spines from her person. Mou! Why did Fuji always have to hold these meetings here? He knew Dan was clumsy!
Niou crossed his arms, and wove his way through. Fuji had anti-levitating charms in the area, which meant walking was required. It was positively barbaric... imagine, walking. Next Fuji would put some anti-teleportation wards in, and force people to enter through a door.
Fuji waited for them, idly checking the spines of a devil's tongue (Ferocactus latispinus Inui scribbled down) cactus. He was always first, which gave them no time to plot behind his back. It really wasn't fair - didn't he know somewhere in the Evil Overlord's Handbook that he was Supposed to make a grand and glorious entrance after his peons had gathered?
Dan squirmed his way through the trial by prickles, taking up an assorted collection of pricks, pokes, and just all out stabs before he finally came into Fuji's Presence, where he sighed and flopped down on his buns with a pout, wobbling his eyes in the Lord of Evil's direction.
Inui slid in beside Dan, notoriously poke free, and sat down on nothing. Nothing was Inui's preferred seating of choice, since chairs actually soothed one's associates ... the associates that weren't numbered in Hell's Infernally Best, that is.
Niou, being Niou, chose a likely looking cactus and plopped on it, after casting an impenetrable charm on his own skin. It was chancy to do so, since Fuji could decide at any moment to undo it, but those little challenges were what made life worth living. Last time he'd turned a cactus into a sofa, and that hadn't gone over well... it was better to learn from it.
Fuji, luckily, seemed amused by Niou's audacity, chuckling as he turned his attention to his top three. On his face was a smile that had fooled millions, but the entire group was smart enough to realize it was simply a mask for the most sadistic mind in existence. "How is everyone today?" he asked.
"I was fine until I came, desu," Dan informed him, pointedly rubbing an arm.
Inui's answer is smooth as silk, "Sufficiently positive, thank you. You?"
Niou merely slumped down so he was a bit more comfortable on the cactus and raised an eyebrow. "I hereby motion we postpone this meeting until last week."
They ignored him. He made the same motion at every meeting.
"You should look into that rut you've fallen into, Niou," Inui murmured, stretching his long legs out.
"I think these meetings are a rut," Niou shot back. "They're a waste of time."
"Of course they are," Fuji agreed pleasantly. "That's why we have them. People expect hell to have board meetings discussing the bottom line and performance goals."
"No, they don't. We didn't use to have them!"
"We didn't use to have so much middle-management," Fuji replied. "Don't you read Dilbert?"
Dan sighs. Niou was so right. They used to get to run completely wild ... what fun that used to be. "I don't see why we have to structure our lives to mortal expectations."
"I'd hate to disappoint them," Fuji said, and the puppy-dog like look on his face matched Dan at his best.
"It's not like they're even going to know about these meetings when they get here, desu ... "
"Yes, but we will, and I think the quality of the work we do is reflected by our sincerity," Fuji replied.
"Sincerity? This is hell!" Niou spat. "There's nothing sincere about it!"
There were agreeing nods from Dan and Inui, though Inui just agreed because he wanted to see Fuji's return to that and not because he actually had anything against the board meetings.
The look of disappointment on Fuji's face was heartbreaking - had any of them any hearts to break. "Niou, I would have thought you of all people would have understood. The best lie is one that comes from the heart."
Dan folded his arms over his narrow chest and pouted, "We don't have hearts."
"Indeed. We don't even have internal organs since we don't need them," Inui supplied.
Fuji tsked. "I'm surrounded by people who don't understand the metaphorical. No wonder we haven't managed to have Armageddon yet."
Dan sulkily poked a bit of rock with his toe, "Armageddon this, Armageddon that ... what bout having some fun, desu? All we do is work, work, work."
"Yes, speaking of that..." Fuji's voice lowered a bit, indicating he was ready to get down to business. "When's the next time we'll be seeing Akutsu, Dan-kun?"
"Soon ... " Dan sighed, flopping back on the gravel and pushing his headband farther into his hair, "I'll get him back soon."
"Still having problems with Kawamura?" Niou teased.
Dan scowled, which looked more like a pout, really, "I can handle Kawamura. He's not really paying attention anymore."
"I miss seeing Akutsu around here," Fuji said almost gently. "The place really isn't the same without him." The statement, while mild, was a warning.
"He'll be coming back soon, desu. Soon."
Inui opened his notebook. He didn't need to, but he felt like checking it anyway, "Even if we were to gain Akutsu, it is most a 100% probability that we will lose him again."
"So? It's fun while it lasts," Niou replied, twisting his hair between his fingers. "Speaking of fun, Inui, do you have any predictions on Ryoma's latest venture?"
"Venture?" Inui echoed, rapidly filling paper.
"Didn't you hear?" Niou gleefully bounced, ignoring the quills. "He's working on damning the granddaughter of the miko who exorcised Nanjirou!" Dan squeaked, but Niou merely smirked. "Of course, he didn't realize it was Ryuuzaki-sama's granddaughter in the first place... it was chance he ended up there, I think..."
Fuji snickered to himself, earning a suspicious look from Niou. "Ah, funny how things work out, isn't it?"
Niou seemed to consider whether it was wise to challenge the guy who signed his paychecks, but apparently decided not to. "Anyway, apparently Ryuuzaki-sensei has his number... he's cleaning floors like an apprentice..."
Now Fuji was laughing outright. "I have a Porsche I need him to do when he gets back..."
Niou ignored him again. "...and meanwhile, Kirihara is getting ahead of him in what Ryoma's original target was, and damning a whole college math class!"
There was a flurry of paper and scribbling from Inui while Dan giggled, "Polishing floors, desu! If only Kirihara heard about that ... " he trailed off in thought before grinning in an almost angelic fashion.
Inui added the final plus mark and let the equation tally itself up, "Interesting. On current data, we have a 95% chance of damning the granddaughter, but a 50% chance of losing Ryouma in the process. She must have a little miko blood in her."
"She's completely clueless. She's no Ryuuzaki-sama," Niou said smugly. "Though I can't figure out why Ryuuzaki-sama hasn't just performed a ritual and exorcized him, too. I mean, she got rid of Nanjiroh."
That in itself was an accomplishment. Nanjiroh had been one of the four greatest demons in hell, equal to Inui, Niou and Dan. He'd been older than all of them, and more perverted as well. It'd been about forty years since he'd been vanquished, but the shock was still having repercussions through Hell. Many devils were fighting for the coveted spot of fourth advisor to the Lord of Hell, and whoever won it would have a prize indeed. Right now it looked like a dead heat between Ryoma, who had been Nanjiroh's "son," and Kirihara, who was amazingly talented and had Fuji’s special attention.
"Maybe she likes watching him wash floors?" Dan asked brightly, giggling a bit at the thought of Ryuuzaki-sama looming over a tiny Ryouma devil.
"Maybe she likes watching cute boys bend over?"
"That too!"
"Or maybe she's plotting something else," Fuji suggested. "Speaking of plotting, I heard that Sengoku was hanging around Kirihara?"
"I believe Yagyuu made a statement to the effect that Sengoku had found the 'bleed hell dry' button," Inui supplied, referring to the notebook, which could basically be said to be the all-knowing that didn't live in heaven.
Dan groans, "I though Sengoku was busy with the Florida election ... wait, that was Sanada, desu."
Niou preened. It had been one of his nicest bits of work in years. "I'm already working with Touji on teaching hackers how to mess with the new voting machines," he said proudly.
Inui looked interested, "Really? I am impressed. May I look over your figures?"
"Then what's Sengoku been doing?" Dan looks over at Inui, expecting him to know all the answers.
Distracted from the search for data, Inui flips to the very small section headed by Sengoku's name. Name, rank, serial number. This wasn't going to do. He sighed, "My data is inconclusive in this matter."
Niou had often heard of Sengoku, but didn't really know much about him. "He's a bit of a mystery, isn't he?" he said, perking up. He did love new toys.
Dan shrugged a bit, scratching at one of his cactus wounds, "He's just hard to track down, desu. He's not one of the flashy angels." He looked up at Niou through a fringe of dark hair and blinked equally dark eyes innocently at him.
Niou found it annoying that Dan was one of the oldest beings in existence and didn't even look old enough to shave. Talk about packaging with false advertising. "Well, I'm sure he's finding Kirihara plenty flashy enough for the both of them."
For some reason, Fuji laughed at that.
"Is there anything else?" Niou asked testily, wanting to get out of there. Yagyuu had hinted that he had plans for that afternoon, and he wanted to know what - maybe they could screw. Of course, that was what they did every afternoon, but it was still fun.
Inui closed his notebook, "I can not think of anything to add, though I would still like to get together with Muromachi," he inclines his head in Niou's direction. It paid to be at least somewhat polite, "If you have no objections."
Dan just shook his head, poking at a tiny cacti by snaking his finger through the thorns. He wondered idly if he could stab the little thing back in exchange for his travel wounds.
"Fine, fine! We're out of here!" Niou said, standing up and preparing to take off.
"Oh, I have something!" Fuji suddenly chimed in, as though the thought just occurred to him.
Shit, Niou thought, knowing better than to buy that. Fuji had probably been saving it just for that moment. He knew there was nothing worse than to keep people longer.
Dan pretended to look attentive (while still deciding what horror to wreak on the prickly equivalent to shrubbery) and Inui's notebook snapped back open with an audible metaphoric crack. "Do tell."
"I'm going on vacation! Take care of the shop while I'm gone!" A suitcase appeared on top of one of the cacti, and Fuji was suddenly wearing a horrible Hawaiian shirt. He waved his fingers cheerfully, and then with a poof of melodramatic smoke, he vanished.
Niou stared at the spot where Fuji had vanished in shock, for once truly taken aback. "What in Hell did the Devil just do?" he bellowed, wondering if the Apocalypse was about to start, and who had forgotten to send him the memo.
Dan came close to whining as he flopped back on the ground, "Awww, man ... he always does this! I don't wanna take care of the garden, desu! You do it, Inui."
"Do not be absurd, I'm much too busy ... Niou can do it."
"I saw we leave it to Oshitari. Delegate, my friends," Niou said, a frown on his features. "If you can pry Mukahi off him long enough..."
Dan smiled angelically and stabbed the cactus with a suddenly sharp finger, "Let's have Taki do it. Then if anything goes wrong, desu .... "
Inui adjusted his glasses, "The idea has merit."
Normally Niou would have gleefully anticipated the downfall of one of his subordinates, but he was actually worried - well, as worried as he got. Scenarios about what Fuji was really up to danced through his head, and none of them boded well for Niou's continuing his streak as the most successful meddler on earth. "The last time Fuji went on vacation, didn't his ship hit an iceberg?" he asked.
Inui idly watched Dan turn the cactus into fillet. Fuji on a vacation was a time of great interest and jockeying for position. He was already looking forward to the applications of the fallout. "Yes. The Titantic, I believe."
"And.... the time before that, there was the volcano and that cute little Greek village..." Niou drawled, crossing his arms. He could just think of the fun, and he almost cried.
Dan moved on to the second cactus, "I remember Pompey ... it had the best kabobs in the Greece. And the prettiest women, desu."
"I think that might be only your fond recollection. I believe the women in Corinth were much more attractive."
"Though the Greek men were all pretty ugly..." Niou said with a sigh. This time he did stamp his foot. "Do you realize what he just did to us?"
"Left us with the bag while he has fun?" Inui asked, with something near innocence.
"And Inui wins what's behind door number two! We're stuck here!" Niou wailed. He'd thought about going up and checking in on Kirihara - and maybe critiquing his seduction attempts while he was at it - but without the Lord of Hell in Hell, all three of the highest-ranking demons would be needed to keep things from going to, well, complete and utter...
Well, you get the idea. Some sense of order had to be kept, even though it was against Niou's nature.
Dan beams brightly at Niou, like he just won the real prize behind door number two, "But that's the /idea/, Niou-san! He left us behind! All /alone/, desu. Completely in charge, desu~!"
Moments like these remind Inui why Dan is both one of the Four and one of the oldest among them. He had a mind for taking advantage of every opportunity that was handed to him on a platter, "Perhaps Dan and I can handle the leg work if you would like to continue your plans, Niou?"
Niou knew he was caught like a fish in a trap - which was exactly what Fuji had probably intended. He was smart enough to realize that Fuji would ultimately manage to reclaim his position with ease... but for Niou to keep his own, he'd have to fight for it.
Oh, well. He'd been falling into a routine, anyway.
"Maybe we should have a few... shakedown drills?" Niou suggested. A slight smile curved his lips. "And I believe Yagyuu might have a few suggestions as well on how we can balance our books a bit better?"
"It would be beneficial to employ a few cost cutting measures. Hellish Communications is slowing down operations by 25%."
"I can think of several," Niou said. A grin lit his face as he started to think of several possibilities. Corporate restructuring was such fun!
*
Math class: the place at which young people come together to exhibit extreme unhappiness about their ability to pass. Study period: the time during math class in which the professor finally gets fed up with attempting to pound knowledge into thick heads and goes to his office to have some coffee ... with maybe a generous dose of gin. Group: the place in which students sitting in the general vicinity of one another come together to talk instead of actually do work.
This Group was where Sengoku was now, chatting it up with his usual cohort in crime, the demon that was supposed to be his rival (if we spoke technically of how these things are supposed to work), the smooching two-some, and the poor fool who just kept getting stuck with them.
Sengoku spun his pencil absently, "So ... I wonder how many angels fit on the head of a pencil."
Yuuta looked at him strangely. "It depends if they've manifested into a human form or not," he said.
"Huh?" The look Kamio gave him was of sheer bewilderment.
Yuuta, though, had already lost interest in the conversation, returning his attention instead to the imaginary numbers which he just couldn't wrap his imagination around.
Saeki's face got that look that said he was prepared to be sufficiently amused by anything Yuuta was prepared to say and by god he hoped Sengoku could keep him going. Anything with Yuuta plus religion was bound to be just good crack.
The pencil spun again, "Well, if they were humans they probably wouldn't fit on here, so what about if they weren't?"
"An infinite number, and none. I've heard that riddle before," Kamio said crossly. "Can we please get back to work?" He was so sick of this study group - he was trying to get at least a B, and there was no way that'd happen if these incompetents kept pulling him down.
Sengoku pretends to look affronted, "This isn't a riddle! This is an important theological question! Up there with the nature of good and evil! It's ... like ... fundamental!"
"I always found the fundamentalists fun," Kirihara said. "So ready to damn others..." His eyes gleamed as he taunted his counterpart.
"I'm an atheist," Kamio pronounced, lying through his teeth. "What's the answer to number twelve? I got 42."
"Damning others ... isn't it that you damn yourself, though?" Sengoku struggles briefly over making a joke about 42 before grinning, "I dunno, Kamio ... if I told you the answer, would you remove that stick from your ass and join us?"
Kamio scowled. "This is a math class. Go take a religion or philosophy class if you want to talk about god."
"You'd reject wisdom, then? Just because you don't like the who, when, and where of the source?"
Kirihara slung an arm around Kamio's shoulder, earning himself a dirty look. "It would be a different matter if it was wisdom, but you know what they say about not suffering fools."
Sengoku acknowledges Kirihara's deft maneuver with a nod, "Eh, we're wondering off the subject ... what were we talking about? The nature of good and evil?"
"You tell me. You started this," Kirihara said. "I think it was something about pins and needles..."
"Angels and devils?"
"How about which people would rather be?" Kirihara challenged, tilting his head at Saeki. "What do you think?"
Saeki considered it, mainly because anything was better than doing more math and hey, lookit Kamio get annoyed. He flashed an easy grin, "I'd be a devil, since it's not like I'm making it to heaven anyway."
"Even though heaven's got all the big guns?" Sengoku asks, looking amused.
"Shit, I don't have to like, work at being a devil. I'll just sit there and be the demon of laziness or something."
"Demons don't get to be lazy," Kirihara said in amusement. "Why do you think there's such hell on earth?"
"Speaking from experience?" Kamio asked, finally managing to push his chair out of arm's reach of both Kirihara and Sengoku. He leveled another Look on them, before trying to return to his math.
"Maybe. I'd be you'd be an angel, with that stick shoved up your ass."
"I do not have a stick shoved up my ass!"
"Prove it!"
Kamio stood up, grabbed Kirihara's book, and whacked him a good one square in the head. "Devilish enough for you?"
"Fuck you," Kirihara said, while inwardly gloating. There was hope for Kamio yet.
Saeki groaned, "Forget it, I'll just die and go to hell where I can do jack except burn."
Sengoku managed to look put out that Kamio hadn't thought him obnoxious enough to smack, "I'm hurt, Kamio ... you don't love me! Where was my beating?"
"You can go find someone else to whack you. He's my dom," Kirihara purred in return.
"Didn't you ever learn to share?"
"Sharing is good, and that's something for angels. We've already decided that both Saeki and Kamio are going to hell, so... what about you, Mizuki?" Kirihara asked, snapping Mizuki out of his exploration of Yuuta's throat with his tongue. "Or is that a moot question?"
"Ah, but sharing during sex is a sin, and that's something for devils-"
Mizuki sends Kirihara this look that stated quite clearly that he was interrupting his smut. With three pairs of vaguely interested eyes and one pair of disgusted ones, he realized that he was probably not going to escape from this with just a glare, so in the interest of getting back to his smut he answered, "Speaking purely philosophically ... an angel, of course. You could ever doubt?"
Saeki choked and had to be whacked on the back by Sengoku. "There, there, Saeki, I know it's a load of horse shit, but there was no need to swallow it."
Yuuta looked at where Mizuki's hand was, and then up at his lover's eyes in disbelief. "Mizuki, you sin every day! Why do you think you're going to heaven? You never show any repentance for anything!"
"I suppose then you'll be joining me, since you're sinning with me," Mizuki sniffed, pulling his hand away and folding it across his chest, miffed, "Not that it matters, of course, since there is no such thing as heaven or hell."
Kirihara and Sengoku's eyes met. It figured that Mizuki was an atheist - and since atheists believed in nothing, they got exactly that when they died. Nothing. Oblivion. Void.
Kirihara almost pitied him. Almost.
Yuuta, though, pushed Mizuki's hand away, his breathing beginning to quicken the way it did whenever they had sex - but the expression on his face was anything but aroused. It approached panic. "How can you believe in nothing?" he demanded.
Mizuki arched an eyebrow, "Quite easily. There's no evidence to support anything like god."
Sengoku spun his pencil absently, amused despite himself about how one could take a class that proved the hand of divine creation and not realize it.
"There's plenty of evidence! All you need to do is look around you!" said Yuuta fervently.
"Evidence for evolution, not for god," Mizuki pointed out primly.
"Don't you believe in miracles?" Yuuta asked wistfully, and his heart was in his eyes as pain shimmered there.
"I believe in unexplainable events, which become explained once man gets around to doing a little legwork."
Yuuta looked about ready to pitch a fit, and Kirihara waited with eagerness. Maybe the perfect couple could have a nasty break-up that would damage both of them... It was delicious.
Sengoku leaned back in his seat and stuck his pencil behind his ear, folding his fingers in front of himself thoughtfully, "There is nothing unexplainable because everything in the world works upon a set of principles, like a computer works on chips and electricity. But where did the principles come from?"
Mizuki frowned, distracted from Yuuta's fit by the simple and altogether amazing fact that Sengoku was not giggling like a fool in the background. "They were already there."
"How did they get there?"
"Well ... the Big Bang."
"So you expect me to believe that an accidental, unprecedented explosion in the midst of nothingness manage to construct a set of laws that works together so flawlessly that nothing in the universe spontaneously combusts?"
Mizuki paused and then scowled, glowering darkly at the unpleasant feeling that even if he were to retort, Sengoku would have an answer that would back him even farther into the corner he was being trapped in. He sniffed and changed the subject, "What about you? You're no angel."
"I never claimed to be one!" Sengoku smirks.
"Never?" Kirihara said, drawling the word slowly. He had his prey set in his sights - Sengoku was well and truly trapped. Kirihara knew that in some point in his career, Sengoku had probably announced himself, and... well, this was a beautiful lie.
A slow serpentine smile slid its way across Sengoku's face as green eyes shifted from Mizuki to Kirihara, "Never."
"Then you'd prefer to be a devil, then?" Kirihara was stunned, unable to believe how Sengoku had managed that.
"There's a certain freedom in evil, neh? Being an angel would be kinda limiting."
Kirihara didn't understand it! Sengoku was an angel... wasn't he?
Suddenly suspicious, he shut his eyes and tapped into a bit of his inner power, before opening them briefly. The "other sight" allowed him a closer look at Sengoku's aura... and he was nearly blinded by the power of it.
Yuuta, who had been watching them with interest, stared at Kirihara. Had he imagined it, or had his eyes just turned the color of blood for the briefest of instances? He rubbed his own eyes, and Kirihara's eyes were that pretty blue-green he rather envied, so... well, maybe he needed more sleep.
Kirihara felt like he'd been hit by a truck. The aura he'd seen had been one of the most powerful he'd ever looked at - but it was definitely angelic, despite the strange coloration and ambiguity to parts of it. His head was splitting, and his usual sarcasm fell beneath sheer confusion.
Who on earth - or in heaven or hell, whichever applied - was Sengoku?