Paved with Good Intentions (PoT, R, 8/?)
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.
Part 8 Summary: In Which strange alliances are proposed and the Bat Phone is a very important piece of equipment.
First parts at quillofferings
Despite what most people believed, there was nothing preventing a devil from entering a church. In fact, there were many angels who actively encouraged Fallen Ones into entering the most sacred of buildings. As Sengoku would have explained if asked (but most people weren't crazy enough to ask him), the evil were the ones who most needed to hear the Word, so what would the point be in trying to keep them from it?
It didn't mean it was comfortable for the truly sinful to be around. It was rather like standing on overly hot sand in bare feet - bearable, but not anything people enjoyed. It was only through his stubbornness that Kirihara sought Tezuka out on that fine Thursday afternoon.
It was kind of hard to miss the blazing point of demonic power inside a church. Not that it was hard to miss Kirihara on principle, but Tezuka liked to imagine it was more so on what the human's believed was pure, holy, untouchable ground. He glanced to the side as Kirihara slid into the row he was kneeling at and let the glance serve as a question.
Tezuka was someone Kirihara knew primarily through reputation. The archangel was known to be "a pillar of righteousness" among the politer circles (of which hell had none) and a prick with a personality rivaling a slug by everyone else. He weighed his options, and decided the best way to act was straightforward... like always.
"Want to get rid of Sengoku?"
Tezuka's interest was admittedly peaked by this sort of statement. For multiple reasons, the least of which being he (of all angels) wasn't usually approached by devils interested in removing people. He rose from his kneeling position to sit on the pew instead. "That would depend on what you mean by 'get rid of'."
Kirihara knew that he would have to work carefully. "Get him out of the way. Imagine, life without having your leg molested!"
Tezuka pondered this, "Actually, I can not imagine that."
"Wouldn't your existence be more pleasant? Think of all the people he makes miserable..."
If Kirihara just wanted his help in damning Sengoku, he wouldn't bring up how many people Sengoku makes miserable. Ergo ... "What you are suggesting then, is an assassination."
Kirihara looked shock. "I would never ask an angel to be party to assassination!" Then a slight tilt was added to his head. "No, what I wanted was a bit more... permanent."
"Complete removal from existence."
.
"Exactly!" Kirihara beamed, pleased that Tezuka followed his line of thought. Death wasn't permanent enough - that Middle eastern man a few millennia ago had proven that.
"Why should I damn my immortal soul just to remove Sengoku?"
"I don't think it would damn you," Kirihara said. "You'd be acting for the greater good." Gotta love those loopholes.
It did have a certain circular irony that Tezuka could appreciate, though he was of the opinion only he would actually get that circular irony. "And if I said I was not interested?"
"Then I work on using you in my diabolical plan in bringing Sengoku's end."
"Very clever."
"So are you interested?"
"Contrary to your belief, I do not actually want to see Sengoku dead and gone."
Kirihara made a face. "Does your leg secretly enjoy its love affair with him?"
"Yes. Yes it does." Tezuka managed to say that with a completely straight face.
Lightning flashed outside. Kirihara's eyes turned deep red, and he rose to his feet, a truly ominous figure. "On your own head let it be!" he thundered, storming out dramatically... until he tripped right over his feet on the last pew.
Tezuka sighed and settled back down onto his knees. It seemed Kirihara was determined to do himself in again. Oh well. Score one for Heaven.
Kamio Akira was never a calm person, which was why it was probably a good thing he was dating Tachibana An. An wasn't a very calm person, either, but by being around her, he spent a lot of time with her older brother, Tachibana Kippei Anytime spent with him was like taking a week at a spa. There was a soothing quality to his presence, similar to soaking in a nice hot spring that just made tension melt away.
There were other reasons he liked dating An. She was cute and fun, and she was always good at making him laugh. He knew plenty of guys were jealous of him for having caught her attention. She was the kind of person who knew when to ground him and when to encourage him to "go full throttle" and it was nice to be around a girl who was independent. She didn't cling to him, but knew when to ask for help. She was, to his mind, perfect. And when they got married - he planned on proposing to her next year on her birthday - he would be marrying into a wonderful family.
It was the one thing in his life that was going right.
As they sat down to dinner at An's house, a meal which her brother had prepared for the three of them since the Tachibana's parents were currently in Aruba, Kamio tried to let the stress of the day melt away. Tachibana was watching him closely, which meant that he'd probably be asked - in the kindest possible manner - about how things were going with him, and he wasn't sure if he wanted to burden him. All in all, his troubles could be summed up through two things: math class and Shinji.
An liked Kamio a lot. He was fiery, persistent, attentive, and best of all: devoted, which was something that pleased An's girlish heart quite a bit. There was nothing quite like having a knight in mostly shining armor ready to ride to your rescue at a moment's notice, even if you sometimes had to restrain him from imprudently sallying forth.
She was by no means a fool. Not after having grown up in her family with her brother by her side, and she too could see that something was bothering Kamio. An let it pass, though, knowing that Kamio would talk when he wanted to talk, or when her brother got him to talk ... whichever came first, really.
Smiling, she was happy to engage Tachibana in conversation for as long as that circumstance took to occur. Today chosen topic was soft sciences versus hard sciences, and which was more useful in life.
Kamio was a bit lost, frankly. He was - gasp - a Japanese major, and the only reason he was taking anything with math or science in it because it filled the prerequisites. He actually rather sucked at anything with numbers in it, which was why he planned on becoming an elementary teacher. He figured as long as he could count to 100, he had it made.
When Tachibana asked An (who was not a Japanese major), about what she thought of the statistics course the school had just started offering, he wanted to grind his teeth. He could give them one statistic: another week in his math class and he'd go nuts.
He didn't quite understand how he'd ended up in a group of the amoral (Sengoku and Saeki), the inflammatory (Kirihara) and the sluttish (Yuuta and Mizuki). All he wanted was a passing grade, which seemed to be slipping further and further out of reach as the days ticked by. Occasionally Tachibana would stop by and throw water onto them, but for the most part, their little circus was just getting more and more outrageous.
He didn't even notice his chopsticks snap as he thought of them.
An did. She reached out and put a hand on Kamio's arm, looking concerned, "Are you okay, Akira?"
"I'm fine, An-chan." He really, really didn't want to burden her, especially with... that. His sweet An didn't need to know about the perverts that seemed to be stalking his life.
Tachibana cocked an eyebrow at his sister, nodding a bit for her to pull back. "Akira, I know math class has been trying for you."
Now that Tachibana had seen fit to intervene, it was like letting loose the floodgates. A furrow appeared on Kamio's brow and his mouth began to twitch. "TRYING? Is that what you call being forced to work with lunatics who don't care about graduating?"
An patted Kamio's arm before doing as her brother bid and pulling back, giving Kamio space to fume.
"I do not like being subjected to gay innuendo, let alone outright spit swapping! I think Mizuki and Yuuta would have at each other on our desks if they could! Call me homophobic if you want, but I am disgusted! Kirihara is a raving lunatic, and Sengoku baits him constantly! And Saeki eggs both of them on! Do you know what my chances of passes that class are?"
"Quite well, I'm your TA," Tachibana said calmly. "I think you need to remember Sakaki-sensei is a fair person who takes things into consideration."
"Really?" Kamio said sarcastically. "Wasn't he the one who failed all of last year's freshman 100 class?"
Tachibana sighed. "Extenuating circumstances, and he was overruled by his department head. Really, Kamio, just stay calm and you'll make it through it."
An nodded to this, "Don't let them get to you, Akira. They probably just like watching you explode."
Kamio knew too well that he had a temper. "I try to ignore them, but the fact is, they're idiots!"
"Sengoku has the highest average in the class," Tachibana said. "Kirihara, Mizuki and Saeki are all in the top ten."
Kamio wanted to slam his head against the table, but worried he’d drown in the sukiyaki. "So they're genius slackers! It's not fair for them to pull me down because they're bored!"
"Maybe you could not worry about the class itself and ask one of them to help you after class?" An suggested.
"Why would I want to spend any more time necessary with those..." Kamio started to gripe.
"I suggest studying with Yuuta," said Tachibana.
"You could make a lot of headway then."
"He's too busy giving head!" Kamio snapped, then turned a brilliant red as he realized exactly who he was speaking to. Clearly his mind was going.
An was very outwardly unperturbed. Inwardly she was giggling to herself at the idea of Yuuta giving someone head. "You could be a positive influence to him."
Kamio was still shocked he had said that in front of his girlfriend - and his girlfriend's brother. "I-"
"Akira, this really isn't what's bothering you, is it?" Tachibana asked in a quiet voice.
Kamio knew that Tachibana would eventually figure it out, and was a bit relieved. "Well, it's a part of it..."
"You have a problem with being around Yuuta because he's gay, don't you? Does this have something to do with Shinji?"
Trust Tachibana to see this at its root. "He's still staring at me." Kamio tried not to shudder. He'd been Shinji's best friend since childhood, but since Shinji had tried to kiss him three months ago, he hadn't been comfortable with him.
"I'm sure he just has a crush on you. It's going to pass," An shook her head. She'd met Shinji once or twice in one of her classes and though he'd struck her as being a bit odd, he was hardly the worst person to have hitting on you. She was of the opinion that given another target for his affections, he would lose interest in Kamio.
"He's been trying my underwear on."
An made a face, "Ew."
"I hear him yelling my name in the shower...along with someone named Oishi."
"Oishi? Who's Oishi?" The female mind is ever intent on connecting porn thoughts with real people.
"I don't want to know."
"Well, at least it's not just you he's thinking about."
Location: Sengoku's Office, a metaphysical portal that was never quite where it should be and had the exceptionally bad habit of following its secretary, Akutsu Jin, around when the angel bounced back and forth between heaven and hell. The aforementioned Jin stretched, flexing considerable muscles as he settled himself back into Sengoku's chair and put his feet up on the archangel's desk. He selected a cigarette from his collection and lit up, taking a long drag as he tipped to the side just so, which allowed him a clear and unobstructed view of the Playboy PinUp in the back corner.
It was not by any means an ordinary office. Such things never were. But while Tezuka's might have been the picture of respectability and inscrutability befitting an archangel, Sengoku's was a magpie's nest of what could loosely be called junk. There was a perpetual motion ball clicker on the desk, along with a long peacock quill, a pile of cigarette stubs in a ceramic bowl dating back to ancient Greece, a bright red plastic telephone, and a pad of paper that was never used and bore the letterhead "From the Desk of I Forget". Shelves stuffed with all sorts of holy books gathering dusk, pornographic magazines of every kind (considerably less dusty), and knickknacks like dogs with heads that bobbled in an invisible wind.
The clock failed to be on the wall. It was, instead, on the floor, and was actually a mosaic of the world with a spiral winding out from its center. At the center black point was a label saying "Beginning" and in the amorphous cloud of the back-end of the spiral was the label saying "End". Jin liked to jump up and down on the little moving dot that happened to be marked "Sengoku".
There was also a scale. It was a cute little curlicue of a scale suspended on nothing and usually resided on the shelf behind the desk. Jin ignored this at all costs. This was not because it was cute (Jin had a weakness for cute things), it was because it had a habit of groping his ass. How a scale could do this he didn't know, but he had long ago decided that its amorous advances were not welcome.
Time: Generally unknown, but a tag indicated vaguely before Sengoku's birthday. Mind you, this birthday had been looming ominously for some time, despite the fact that Jin hadn't actually seen a date attached to it. He suspected this was because Sengoku was waiting for him to buy a present. Sengoku would wait a long time for that, he thought with a smirk.
The office was full of all sorts of strange curiosities, but Yanagi Renji, contrary to his nature, was doing his best to keep his eyes square in front of him and ignore what was going on around him. He had heard tales about what happened to the curious in Sengoku's office, and there were even some legends of angels not returning from it (one, Katsuo, was rumored to have gotten lost somewhere among the shelves for three decades - patently untrue, it was only two). Yanagi was always cautious, and while the glaring gray-haired pseudo-angel didn't intimidate him, the aroma of ancient delivery pizza did. He thought it probably came from the 70's.
Yanagi had been waiting for three days for Sengoku to make an appearance, despite an offer (well, you could call it that) from Akutsu to take a message. After watching Akutsu in action for about two hours, he decided that he'd made the right decision, despite the fact he was cooling his heels in an over-stuffed beanbag chair. He had his laptop, anyway, which kept it from being a total waste of time, though he was starting to worry that he'd run out of batteries before Sengoku would decide to show his super-cheerful face.
Sengoku, on cue with the failure of yet another battery, waltzed into his office, bypassed Yanagi completely and wandering around the desk to poke at the scale with a finger. "Any messages?"
Jin blew some smoke, lifted his legs to check if a message might be hiding underneath and set them back down. "Nope."
Yanagi cleared his throat.
Sengoku tickled the scale with a finger, regarding the little weights sitting on top of it with careful deliberation. All appeared to be in order. He turned and walked past the desk to stare at the blank wall, "Where's the clock?"
Jin smirked at Yanagi. "On the floor."
Yanagi ignored the weird object at his feet that looked like it belonged in a Salvador Dali painting, instead focusing on the angel he sought out. Akutsu's rudeness was to be expected, really. "Sengoku-san, I need to talk to you-" he started, but was interrupted before he could voice his objective.
By the bookcase, which was rattling. Sengoku tapped his foot, making a little ahem noise in the back of his throat. A grandfather clock slowly slid out from behind it and sidled up to its supposed place against the wall. It had more time wheels and swinging bits and little flashing numbers and a spinning roll of names that no clock should have. It was also too big to have actually fit behind the shelf in the first place.
Jin eyeballed it and the clock glinted its glass casing back. There was a deep, abiding, and long burning dislike between the two. Possibly over the scale's love. Sengoku had never been able to figure out how the dislike had started, nor when it had become a full-fledged cold war.
"I don't want to hear who called who names and who jumped on who and who left cigarette butts in whose internal workings." Both parties exchanged glowers once more.
The clock managed to behave itself, though, as Sengoku bent over and peered into its insides. All seemed to be well. Sweet. The visit had been a success! Time to make an escape before -- he turned and blinked at Yanagi.
Damn. Now they were waiting for him. "Wassup, Yanagi?" Behind him, the clock began to inch away, shooting dark glimmers at Jin and rattling its workings ominously.
Yanagi's expression rivaled anything Tezuka could have produced for lack of reaction. He simple tapped a few notes on his laptop before carefully shutting it, then looking up (though Sengoku couldn't tell, seeing as how Yanagi's eyelids seemed to be melted shut) to evaluate his adversary. "Sengoku-san, I was hoping you'd be able to tell me a little bit about the last War." It was an incredibly stupid way to phrase his question, and Yanagi knew that as soon as the words left his lips. Words, though, could never be taken back.
"Last War? Oh, yanno. Lotsa water, floating survival boat, and a lot of angels bit the dust. Not to mention Yukimura kicked off Satan," Sengoku waved a hand and moved to sit on the edge of the desk.
"I was hoping for a bit of detail on the cause - the raid on the library?" Yanagi was relieved that Sengoku hadn't decided to take him literally and talk about what was happening on the mortal realm, and give him a blow-by-blow account on what was happening there.
Sengoku considered, "Was that the reason? I thought it was the bad seafood."
Sometimes Yanagi wondered if age caused senility in angels as well as mortals. Sengoku was clearly a few slices short of a loaf, and much as he adored Yukimura, the gentle archangel was a bit peculiar as well. "Sengoku-san, I need you to concentrate. The raid on the library. I need you to tell me what you know about it," Yanagi said, speaking the way he would to a child.
Jin smirked as Sengoku idly glanced around at his office, noting that the leaning tower of pizza boxes were getting out of hand again. Thankfully, the hellish minions would take care of that when Jin flipped to the dark side again. "Next to nothing, really," Next to nothing when compared with all that he had seen, heard, and learned over the last couple thousand years ... "I was with Tezuka at the time."
Yanagi knew that trying to get Tezuka to share war stories would be like trying to dye Atobe's hair orange. "Ahhhh..." he hesitated. If prodded, Sengoku would spout a ton of information, and then the trick was separating the gold from the dross. "Did you maybe happen to hear where the stolen books wound up?"
"Scattered across the hellish winds. Don't think anyone ever had more than a couple at any one time."
"It's impossible to destroy them!" Yanagi knew. Once he'd caught a devil trying his best to get rid of an account of a rather embarrassing incident, but neither fire, freezing, or a paper shredder at Kinko’s had been able to dent it. As far as Yanagi knew, the things were made of the same material used to create heaven's gate.
"I didn't say they were destroyed," Sengoku said evenly enough, "I said they're probably scattered. As in individually separated. As in stuffed in someone's attic somewhere."
"Whose attic?" Yanagi asked. Sengoku knew something, he could just feel it.
Sengoku shrugged, "How would I know?"
"You're an archangel?"
"That just means I know more stuff than you. Not that I know everything." He did not, for instance, know the time of the end of the world.
Yanagi opened his mouth to argue, but the back of his right ear started to itch, a sure sign that someone was about to teleport into the place.
Sure enough, Atobe Keigo himself made a grand entrance, complete with the golden lights and glitter that were expected of someone of his stature, along with the serenade of the finest choir. Never let it be said that Atobe didn't know what style was - flashy, gaudy, eye-catching style, but style just the same. On the opposite end of the scale was Yukimura, who merely slipped through the door while Atobe made a show of himself.
Yanagi rose to his feet, nodded to the three archangels, and bolted for the door. There was no way he wanted to be involved in the upcoming scene.
Sengoku smiled ever so brightly at Atobe, "Well, if it isn't God's messenger boy." He just plain waved at Yukimura.
Atobe sighed and looked pained, but Yukimura seemed genuinely happy to see Sengoku. "Sengoku-san!" he said, waving a hand to his coworker. The smile on his delicate face abruptly turned into a cough as the smoke from Akutsu's cigarette drifted into his face. The coughing fit lasted a long moment, causing his eyes to water, and Atobe was finally forced to pound on the more delicate angel's shoulders in an attempt to help clear his lungs.
"Really, Sengoku, must you let the rabble in here?"
Sengoku ignored him and leaned back to poke Jin in the shoulder, "Yo. Turn on the vents. You're suffocating Yukimura-san."
Jin made every appearance of grumbling, but he reached down to flip a switch of some kind. He too felt the pull of Yukimura's shining sweetness and maybe was just a touch guilty at his pain. The ceiling fan kicked in with a rattle and immediately the room was clear of smoke.
Sengoku beamed happily at Yukimura, still ignoring Atobe, "So what brings you to my humble abode?"
Yukimura smiled his thanks at Akutsu, which made even the gray-haired angel melt a little bit. Akutsu was a sucker for sweet smiles, after all. "Sengoku-san, we're old friends, aren't we?"
"Colleagues at the very least, Yukimura-san old bean."
"Sengoku-san, you know me well enough that I wouldn't be bringing a small problem to you," Yukimura said. Very true. Yukimura had a very Buddhist attitude toward life, and tended to let matters wash right over him until it was nearly too late. Of course, he also had enough gumption to stab the Lord of Hell through the heart with a sharp, pointy object (thus giving rise to all sorts of vampire myths), so he was a rather interesting character.
"What he wants to say is that your not checking your messages is irresponsible, and we do occasionally need to get in touch with you," Atobe inserted, annoyed that he hadn't been able to speak in the last thirty seconds.
Of course, that wasn't what Yukimura had intended to say at all.
Sengoku scratched his cheek, "Really? I hadn't realized~" It was meant as a reply to both questions, though it had to be twisted just a little for Yukimura's slant to slip through 'Speak on'.
The phone rang. Both Jin and Sengoku ignored it.
Atobe stared pointedly at the phone. Ring. Ring. Ring. "Maybe I should look into getting you a new secretary. I hear that Kawamura might be available...."
"You know how hard it is to find good help these days," Sengoku replied urbanely. Ring.
Jin tapped some ash off the end of his cigarette, "You'd be lost without me." Ring.
"Yes. But lo. I hear the batphone!"
Jin happily took the plastic red phone of its plastic red hook, "Sengoku's Office." He looked up, "It's God."
Sengoku gave the phone a mildly curious look, "How's he sound?"
"Like God."
"Tell him I'm not here." Jin hung up. Sengoku refocused on his associates, mainly Yukimura, "Where were we?"
Atobe blinked. Then blinked again. As far as he knew, angels couldn't lie, so it had been God on the other end... and Sengoku and Akutsu had just given him the figurative middle finger. "You... blasphemous..." he started, wondering if murdering a sinning angel would be frowned on. Lightning began to crackle near his fingertips as he prepared to deal divine punishment.
Yukimura knew things were about to get out of hand, and stepped between Atobe and the object of his ire. "Ohhh, this is cute!" he said, picking up a random desk toy - one that resembled a rubber snake - and jiggling it around. "Where'd you get this?"
"From Microsoft! Isn't it cool?" Sengoku was more than happy to lean over the snake, head now bent close to Yukimura's, and coo over the little rubber doohickey.
"It is! Kinda slithery... like a snake!" Yukimura said.
"Here, watch. Poke its stomach and its tongue pops out," Sengoku demonstrated by stabbing a finger into the rubber underbelly of the snake and indeed, out popped a long red tongue with a 'thweee' sound.
Jin scanned the ceilings for God's rebuttal and wondered if Yukimura and Sengoku thought they were actually fooling anyone. A puff of cosmic smoke and a dove fluttered from behind the ceiling fan. Right on time, Jin noted. It settled on the desk and offered its leg to him, where a note was tied. Jin was more than happy to untie the note and read it outloud, "Ahem. 'Sengoku. You are a jackass. Love, God.'" It was only by supreme effort that Jin didn't snicker. For this and this alone, he loved his job.
"That's it?" Atobe looked like he was about to be sick as the lightning at his fingertips died away. He was used to being in God's Loving Presence (reveled in it, in fact), and seeing a minor miracle wasted on stating a known fact was rather deflating. Of course Sengoku was a jackass. But God was wasting time on a wayward angel when he could be... well, saving souls or something?
Yukimura merely smiled. "God works in mysterious ways."
Sengoku nodded to this. "Indeed. None can truly grasp the entirety of His divine plan. This too had a purpose." He poked the quill. "Scribble a note."
The quill rustled itself over to the pad of paper and poised, waiting.
"Dear God. Most high, god of hosts, creator of the world, etc, etc. Jackass is outdated. I prefer the term asshole. Praise, honor, and glory forever and ever, etc, etc. Love, Sengoku." Jin ripped the paper off its pad as the quill flopped back on the desk and rolled it up for the dove to fly off with. Which it did, with great puffing of smoke.
Sengoku beamed. It was good to be back in Heaven. "You had something you needed to tell me, Yukimura-san?"
Yukimur's face instantly became grave. It felt like telling a five year old there was no Santa Claus or taking candy from a senior citizen - a horrible, horrible thing had been done, and even Atobe felt a bit guilty, even though it was most assuredly not his fault. "Sengoku-san, I think you've been treating people a bit too... carelessly lately." And if Yukimura was actually voicing a concern, it was definitely a problem.
"He's being an asshole, you mean," Atobe said, the course word sounding odd from his cultured lips.
Sengoku blinked with apparent artlessness, "What do you mean?"
"Do you remember what happened the last time you really, really annoyed Tezuka?" Yukimura asked.
"What about the last time he annoyed me? I was amazed he could grow that back that quickly," Atobe said, folding his arms across his chest.
Sengoku considered the floor clock, "Hmmm. I do seem to recall that," he looked up at Atobe and flashed a grin, "You're just not tough enough, I guess, messenger boy~"
Atobe knew well enough not to argue that he was, in fact, God's right hand and Sengoku was the deluded one. "I'm leaving," he announced. "Just answer your messages, and please do it without swearing, or else I'll send Shishido and Ohtori to clean the place up." He smiled cheerfully, imagining what damage Ohtori could do to Sengoku's carefully constructed disarray. Then he flashed out, glitter and gold lights and all.
Sengoku looked not at all perturbed at Atobe's exit, since Jin would be heading to hell soon enough, taking his office safely out of range of the too pure Ohtori. He gestured to a beanbag, the one Yanagi had been occupying previously, "Have a seat, Yukimura-san, and tell me what you mean by Tezuka getting annoyed."
Yukimura cast a look at Akutsu, then shrugged a bit and managed to take the beanbag chair with grace worthy of a yoga master. "He had a rather interesting offer from a young demon who you've been tormenting, and for a second he almost considered taking it... decidedly unlike him. Allying with Hell, I mean."
Jin pulled out some paperclips and endeavored to create a weapon of mass destruction with them. The minute Sengoku left the office, he had a war to wage with the clock, after all. The doings of the holiest of holies held no interest to him.
Sengoku pulled his legs up and folded them beneath him, leaning back a little on the desk, "You know how it is, Seiichi. Occasionally everyone gets tempted by something."
"You also know that the past has a nasty tendency to repeat itself. I'm here as your colleague, telling you that young devil is not-" The sound of the clock ticking closer to Doomsday interrupted Yukimura, who shook his head as he tried to regather his train of thought. "Tezuka is seriously considering the benefits of removing you. He would have a justifiable case - and that demon can justify it from his side. When heaven and hell unite, it means the end. You need to remember what your job is." Yukimura's eyes burned with passion. "You need to remember that there is an importance to this existence, and we don't all exist as your toys." His speech would have been a lot more powerful if he hadn't been playing with the rubber snake as he made it.
"If Tezuka didn't consider the merits of each proposition, he couldn't properly refute them, neh? Besides, you can already guess how this will fall: either Kirihara will stay or he'll be removed." Sengoku's eyes idly followed the wriggle of the snake for a long moment before looking up at Yukimura with garden green eyes, "I haven't forgotten. I never forget. It is my world, after all."
"It is our world, Kiyosumi," Yukimura corrected. He rose to his feet slowly, moving to brush a quick, affectionate kiss against Sengoku's cheek. "One of these days, you'll remember that."
It was really no use arguing with the other archangel, so he didn't. Sengoku sighed, reaching out to tuck a lock of paling hair behind Yukimura's ear, remembering when it had once been dark as midnight blue, "Oh, go out and hack something distasteful on Atobe."
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.
Part 8 Summary: In Which strange alliances are proposed and the Bat Phone is a very important piece of equipment.
First parts at quillofferings
Despite what most people believed, there was nothing preventing a devil from entering a church. In fact, there were many angels who actively encouraged Fallen Ones into entering the most sacred of buildings. As Sengoku would have explained if asked (but most people weren't crazy enough to ask him), the evil were the ones who most needed to hear the Word, so what would the point be in trying to keep them from it?
It didn't mean it was comfortable for the truly sinful to be around. It was rather like standing on overly hot sand in bare feet - bearable, but not anything people enjoyed. It was only through his stubbornness that Kirihara sought Tezuka out on that fine Thursday afternoon.
It was kind of hard to miss the blazing point of demonic power inside a church. Not that it was hard to miss Kirihara on principle, but Tezuka liked to imagine it was more so on what the human's believed was pure, holy, untouchable ground. He glanced to the side as Kirihara slid into the row he was kneeling at and let the glance serve as a question.
Tezuka was someone Kirihara knew primarily through reputation. The archangel was known to be "a pillar of righteousness" among the politer circles (of which hell had none) and a prick with a personality rivaling a slug by everyone else. He weighed his options, and decided the best way to act was straightforward... like always.
"Want to get rid of Sengoku?"
Tezuka's interest was admittedly peaked by this sort of statement. For multiple reasons, the least of which being he (of all angels) wasn't usually approached by devils interested in removing people. He rose from his kneeling position to sit on the pew instead. "That would depend on what you mean by 'get rid of'."
Kirihara knew that he would have to work carefully. "Get him out of the way. Imagine, life without having your leg molested!"
Tezuka pondered this, "Actually, I can not imagine that."
"Wouldn't your existence be more pleasant? Think of all the people he makes miserable..."
If Kirihara just wanted his help in damning Sengoku, he wouldn't bring up how many people Sengoku makes miserable. Ergo ... "What you are suggesting then, is an assassination."
Kirihara looked shock. "I would never ask an angel to be party to assassination!" Then a slight tilt was added to his head. "No, what I wanted was a bit more... permanent."
"Complete removal from existence."
.
"Exactly!" Kirihara beamed, pleased that Tezuka followed his line of thought. Death wasn't permanent enough - that Middle eastern man a few millennia ago had proven that.
"Why should I damn my immortal soul just to remove Sengoku?"
"I don't think it would damn you," Kirihara said. "You'd be acting for the greater good." Gotta love those loopholes.
It did have a certain circular irony that Tezuka could appreciate, though he was of the opinion only he would actually get that circular irony. "And if I said I was not interested?"
"Then I work on using you in my diabolical plan in bringing Sengoku's end."
"Very clever."
"So are you interested?"
"Contrary to your belief, I do not actually want to see Sengoku dead and gone."
Kirihara made a face. "Does your leg secretly enjoy its love affair with him?"
"Yes. Yes it does." Tezuka managed to say that with a completely straight face.
Lightning flashed outside. Kirihara's eyes turned deep red, and he rose to his feet, a truly ominous figure. "On your own head let it be!" he thundered, storming out dramatically... until he tripped right over his feet on the last pew.
Tezuka sighed and settled back down onto his knees. It seemed Kirihara was determined to do himself in again. Oh well. Score one for Heaven.
Kamio Akira was never a calm person, which was why it was probably a good thing he was dating Tachibana An. An wasn't a very calm person, either, but by being around her, he spent a lot of time with her older brother, Tachibana Kippei Anytime spent with him was like taking a week at a spa. There was a soothing quality to his presence, similar to soaking in a nice hot spring that just made tension melt away.
There were other reasons he liked dating An. She was cute and fun, and she was always good at making him laugh. He knew plenty of guys were jealous of him for having caught her attention. She was the kind of person who knew when to ground him and when to encourage him to "go full throttle" and it was nice to be around a girl who was independent. She didn't cling to him, but knew when to ask for help. She was, to his mind, perfect. And when they got married - he planned on proposing to her next year on her birthday - he would be marrying into a wonderful family.
It was the one thing in his life that was going right.
As they sat down to dinner at An's house, a meal which her brother had prepared for the three of them since the Tachibana's parents were currently in Aruba, Kamio tried to let the stress of the day melt away. Tachibana was watching him closely, which meant that he'd probably be asked - in the kindest possible manner - about how things were going with him, and he wasn't sure if he wanted to burden him. All in all, his troubles could be summed up through two things: math class and Shinji.
An liked Kamio a lot. He was fiery, persistent, attentive, and best of all: devoted, which was something that pleased An's girlish heart quite a bit. There was nothing quite like having a knight in mostly shining armor ready to ride to your rescue at a moment's notice, even if you sometimes had to restrain him from imprudently sallying forth.
She was by no means a fool. Not after having grown up in her family with her brother by her side, and she too could see that something was bothering Kamio. An let it pass, though, knowing that Kamio would talk when he wanted to talk, or when her brother got him to talk ... whichever came first, really.
Smiling, she was happy to engage Tachibana in conversation for as long as that circumstance took to occur. Today chosen topic was soft sciences versus hard sciences, and which was more useful in life.
Kamio was a bit lost, frankly. He was - gasp - a Japanese major, and the only reason he was taking anything with math or science in it because it filled the prerequisites. He actually rather sucked at anything with numbers in it, which was why he planned on becoming an elementary teacher. He figured as long as he could count to 100, he had it made.
When Tachibana asked An (who was not a Japanese major), about what she thought of the statistics course the school had just started offering, he wanted to grind his teeth. He could give them one statistic: another week in his math class and he'd go nuts.
He didn't quite understand how he'd ended up in a group of the amoral (Sengoku and Saeki), the inflammatory (Kirihara) and the sluttish (Yuuta and Mizuki). All he wanted was a passing grade, which seemed to be slipping further and further out of reach as the days ticked by. Occasionally Tachibana would stop by and throw water onto them, but for the most part, their little circus was just getting more and more outrageous.
He didn't even notice his chopsticks snap as he thought of them.
An did. She reached out and put a hand on Kamio's arm, looking concerned, "Are you okay, Akira?"
"I'm fine, An-chan." He really, really didn't want to burden her, especially with... that. His sweet An didn't need to know about the perverts that seemed to be stalking his life.
Tachibana cocked an eyebrow at his sister, nodding a bit for her to pull back. "Akira, I know math class has been trying for you."
Now that Tachibana had seen fit to intervene, it was like letting loose the floodgates. A furrow appeared on Kamio's brow and his mouth began to twitch. "TRYING? Is that what you call being forced to work with lunatics who don't care about graduating?"
An patted Kamio's arm before doing as her brother bid and pulling back, giving Kamio space to fume.
"I do not like being subjected to gay innuendo, let alone outright spit swapping! I think Mizuki and Yuuta would have at each other on our desks if they could! Call me homophobic if you want, but I am disgusted! Kirihara is a raving lunatic, and Sengoku baits him constantly! And Saeki eggs both of them on! Do you know what my chances of passes that class are?"
"Quite well, I'm your TA," Tachibana said calmly. "I think you need to remember Sakaki-sensei is a fair person who takes things into consideration."
"Really?" Kamio said sarcastically. "Wasn't he the one who failed all of last year's freshman 100 class?"
Tachibana sighed. "Extenuating circumstances, and he was overruled by his department head. Really, Kamio, just stay calm and you'll make it through it."
An nodded to this, "Don't let them get to you, Akira. They probably just like watching you explode."
Kamio knew too well that he had a temper. "I try to ignore them, but the fact is, they're idiots!"
"Sengoku has the highest average in the class," Tachibana said. "Kirihara, Mizuki and Saeki are all in the top ten."
Kamio wanted to slam his head against the table, but worried he’d drown in the sukiyaki. "So they're genius slackers! It's not fair for them to pull me down because they're bored!"
"Maybe you could not worry about the class itself and ask one of them to help you after class?" An suggested.
"Why would I want to spend any more time necessary with those..." Kamio started to gripe.
"I suggest studying with Yuuta," said Tachibana.
"You could make a lot of headway then."
"He's too busy giving head!" Kamio snapped, then turned a brilliant red as he realized exactly who he was speaking to. Clearly his mind was going.
An was very outwardly unperturbed. Inwardly she was giggling to herself at the idea of Yuuta giving someone head. "You could be a positive influence to him."
Kamio was still shocked he had said that in front of his girlfriend - and his girlfriend's brother. "I-"
"Akira, this really isn't what's bothering you, is it?" Tachibana asked in a quiet voice.
Kamio knew that Tachibana would eventually figure it out, and was a bit relieved. "Well, it's a part of it..."
"You have a problem with being around Yuuta because he's gay, don't you? Does this have something to do with Shinji?"
Trust Tachibana to see this at its root. "He's still staring at me." Kamio tried not to shudder. He'd been Shinji's best friend since childhood, but since Shinji had tried to kiss him three months ago, he hadn't been comfortable with him.
"I'm sure he just has a crush on you. It's going to pass," An shook her head. She'd met Shinji once or twice in one of her classes and though he'd struck her as being a bit odd, he was hardly the worst person to have hitting on you. She was of the opinion that given another target for his affections, he would lose interest in Kamio.
"He's been trying my underwear on."
An made a face, "Ew."
"I hear him yelling my name in the shower...along with someone named Oishi."
"Oishi? Who's Oishi?" The female mind is ever intent on connecting porn thoughts with real people.
"I don't want to know."
"Well, at least it's not just you he's thinking about."
Location: Sengoku's Office, a metaphysical portal that was never quite where it should be and had the exceptionally bad habit of following its secretary, Akutsu Jin, around when the angel bounced back and forth between heaven and hell. The aforementioned Jin stretched, flexing considerable muscles as he settled himself back into Sengoku's chair and put his feet up on the archangel's desk. He selected a cigarette from his collection and lit up, taking a long drag as he tipped to the side just so, which allowed him a clear and unobstructed view of the Playboy PinUp in the back corner.
It was not by any means an ordinary office. Such things never were. But while Tezuka's might have been the picture of respectability and inscrutability befitting an archangel, Sengoku's was a magpie's nest of what could loosely be called junk. There was a perpetual motion ball clicker on the desk, along with a long peacock quill, a pile of cigarette stubs in a ceramic bowl dating back to ancient Greece, a bright red plastic telephone, and a pad of paper that was never used and bore the letterhead "From the Desk of I Forget". Shelves stuffed with all sorts of holy books gathering dusk, pornographic magazines of every kind (considerably less dusty), and knickknacks like dogs with heads that bobbled in an invisible wind.
The clock failed to be on the wall. It was, instead, on the floor, and was actually a mosaic of the world with a spiral winding out from its center. At the center black point was a label saying "Beginning" and in the amorphous cloud of the back-end of the spiral was the label saying "End". Jin liked to jump up and down on the little moving dot that happened to be marked "Sengoku".
There was also a scale. It was a cute little curlicue of a scale suspended on nothing and usually resided on the shelf behind the desk. Jin ignored this at all costs. This was not because it was cute (Jin had a weakness for cute things), it was because it had a habit of groping his ass. How a scale could do this he didn't know, but he had long ago decided that its amorous advances were not welcome.
Time: Generally unknown, but a tag indicated vaguely before Sengoku's birthday. Mind you, this birthday had been looming ominously for some time, despite the fact that Jin hadn't actually seen a date attached to it. He suspected this was because Sengoku was waiting for him to buy a present. Sengoku would wait a long time for that, he thought with a smirk.
The office was full of all sorts of strange curiosities, but Yanagi Renji, contrary to his nature, was doing his best to keep his eyes square in front of him and ignore what was going on around him. He had heard tales about what happened to the curious in Sengoku's office, and there were even some legends of angels not returning from it (one, Katsuo, was rumored to have gotten lost somewhere among the shelves for three decades - patently untrue, it was only two). Yanagi was always cautious, and while the glaring gray-haired pseudo-angel didn't intimidate him, the aroma of ancient delivery pizza did. He thought it probably came from the 70's.
Yanagi had been waiting for three days for Sengoku to make an appearance, despite an offer (well, you could call it that) from Akutsu to take a message. After watching Akutsu in action for about two hours, he decided that he'd made the right decision, despite the fact he was cooling his heels in an over-stuffed beanbag chair. He had his laptop, anyway, which kept it from being a total waste of time, though he was starting to worry that he'd run out of batteries before Sengoku would decide to show his super-cheerful face.
Sengoku, on cue with the failure of yet another battery, waltzed into his office, bypassed Yanagi completely and wandering around the desk to poke at the scale with a finger. "Any messages?"
Jin blew some smoke, lifted his legs to check if a message might be hiding underneath and set them back down. "Nope."
Yanagi cleared his throat.
Sengoku tickled the scale with a finger, regarding the little weights sitting on top of it with careful deliberation. All appeared to be in order. He turned and walked past the desk to stare at the blank wall, "Where's the clock?"
Jin smirked at Yanagi. "On the floor."
Yanagi ignored the weird object at his feet that looked like it belonged in a Salvador Dali painting, instead focusing on the angel he sought out. Akutsu's rudeness was to be expected, really. "Sengoku-san, I need to talk to you-" he started, but was interrupted before he could voice his objective.
By the bookcase, which was rattling. Sengoku tapped his foot, making a little ahem noise in the back of his throat. A grandfather clock slowly slid out from behind it and sidled up to its supposed place against the wall. It had more time wheels and swinging bits and little flashing numbers and a spinning roll of names that no clock should have. It was also too big to have actually fit behind the shelf in the first place.
Jin eyeballed it and the clock glinted its glass casing back. There was a deep, abiding, and long burning dislike between the two. Possibly over the scale's love. Sengoku had never been able to figure out how the dislike had started, nor when it had become a full-fledged cold war.
"I don't want to hear who called who names and who jumped on who and who left cigarette butts in whose internal workings." Both parties exchanged glowers once more.
The clock managed to behave itself, though, as Sengoku bent over and peered into its insides. All seemed to be well. Sweet. The visit had been a success! Time to make an escape before -- he turned and blinked at Yanagi.
Damn. Now they were waiting for him. "Wassup, Yanagi?" Behind him, the clock began to inch away, shooting dark glimmers at Jin and rattling its workings ominously.
Yanagi's expression rivaled anything Tezuka could have produced for lack of reaction. He simple tapped a few notes on his laptop before carefully shutting it, then looking up (though Sengoku couldn't tell, seeing as how Yanagi's eyelids seemed to be melted shut) to evaluate his adversary. "Sengoku-san, I was hoping you'd be able to tell me a little bit about the last War." It was an incredibly stupid way to phrase his question, and Yanagi knew that as soon as the words left his lips. Words, though, could never be taken back.
"Last War? Oh, yanno. Lotsa water, floating survival boat, and a lot of angels bit the dust. Not to mention Yukimura kicked off Satan," Sengoku waved a hand and moved to sit on the edge of the desk.
"I was hoping for a bit of detail on the cause - the raid on the library?" Yanagi was relieved that Sengoku hadn't decided to take him literally and talk about what was happening on the mortal realm, and give him a blow-by-blow account on what was happening there.
Sengoku considered, "Was that the reason? I thought it was the bad seafood."
Sometimes Yanagi wondered if age caused senility in angels as well as mortals. Sengoku was clearly a few slices short of a loaf, and much as he adored Yukimura, the gentle archangel was a bit peculiar as well. "Sengoku-san, I need you to concentrate. The raid on the library. I need you to tell me what you know about it," Yanagi said, speaking the way he would to a child.
Jin smirked as Sengoku idly glanced around at his office, noting that the leaning tower of pizza boxes were getting out of hand again. Thankfully, the hellish minions would take care of that when Jin flipped to the dark side again. "Next to nothing, really," Next to nothing when compared with all that he had seen, heard, and learned over the last couple thousand years ... "I was with Tezuka at the time."
Yanagi knew that trying to get Tezuka to share war stories would be like trying to dye Atobe's hair orange. "Ahhhh..." he hesitated. If prodded, Sengoku would spout a ton of information, and then the trick was separating the gold from the dross. "Did you maybe happen to hear where the stolen books wound up?"
"Scattered across the hellish winds. Don't think anyone ever had more than a couple at any one time."
"It's impossible to destroy them!" Yanagi knew. Once he'd caught a devil trying his best to get rid of an account of a rather embarrassing incident, but neither fire, freezing, or a paper shredder at Kinko’s had been able to dent it. As far as Yanagi knew, the things were made of the same material used to create heaven's gate.
"I didn't say they were destroyed," Sengoku said evenly enough, "I said they're probably scattered. As in individually separated. As in stuffed in someone's attic somewhere."
"Whose attic?" Yanagi asked. Sengoku knew something, he could just feel it.
Sengoku shrugged, "How would I know?"
"You're an archangel?"
"That just means I know more stuff than you. Not that I know everything." He did not, for instance, know the time of the end of the world.
Yanagi opened his mouth to argue, but the back of his right ear started to itch, a sure sign that someone was about to teleport into the place.
Sure enough, Atobe Keigo himself made a grand entrance, complete with the golden lights and glitter that were expected of someone of his stature, along with the serenade of the finest choir. Never let it be said that Atobe didn't know what style was - flashy, gaudy, eye-catching style, but style just the same. On the opposite end of the scale was Yukimura, who merely slipped through the door while Atobe made a show of himself.
Yanagi rose to his feet, nodded to the three archangels, and bolted for the door. There was no way he wanted to be involved in the upcoming scene.
Sengoku smiled ever so brightly at Atobe, "Well, if it isn't God's messenger boy." He just plain waved at Yukimura.
Atobe sighed and looked pained, but Yukimura seemed genuinely happy to see Sengoku. "Sengoku-san!" he said, waving a hand to his coworker. The smile on his delicate face abruptly turned into a cough as the smoke from Akutsu's cigarette drifted into his face. The coughing fit lasted a long moment, causing his eyes to water, and Atobe was finally forced to pound on the more delicate angel's shoulders in an attempt to help clear his lungs.
"Really, Sengoku, must you let the rabble in here?"
Sengoku ignored him and leaned back to poke Jin in the shoulder, "Yo. Turn on the vents. You're suffocating Yukimura-san."
Jin made every appearance of grumbling, but he reached down to flip a switch of some kind. He too felt the pull of Yukimura's shining sweetness and maybe was just a touch guilty at his pain. The ceiling fan kicked in with a rattle and immediately the room was clear of smoke.
Sengoku beamed happily at Yukimura, still ignoring Atobe, "So what brings you to my humble abode?"
Yukimura smiled his thanks at Akutsu, which made even the gray-haired angel melt a little bit. Akutsu was a sucker for sweet smiles, after all. "Sengoku-san, we're old friends, aren't we?"
"Colleagues at the very least, Yukimura-san old bean."
"Sengoku-san, you know me well enough that I wouldn't be bringing a small problem to you," Yukimura said. Very true. Yukimura had a very Buddhist attitude toward life, and tended to let matters wash right over him until it was nearly too late. Of course, he also had enough gumption to stab the Lord of Hell through the heart with a sharp, pointy object (thus giving rise to all sorts of vampire myths), so he was a rather interesting character.
"What he wants to say is that your not checking your messages is irresponsible, and we do occasionally need to get in touch with you," Atobe inserted, annoyed that he hadn't been able to speak in the last thirty seconds.
Of course, that wasn't what Yukimura had intended to say at all.
Sengoku scratched his cheek, "Really? I hadn't realized~" It was meant as a reply to both questions, though it had to be twisted just a little for Yukimura's slant to slip through 'Speak on'.
The phone rang. Both Jin and Sengoku ignored it.
Atobe stared pointedly at the phone. Ring. Ring. Ring. "Maybe I should look into getting you a new secretary. I hear that Kawamura might be available...."
"You know how hard it is to find good help these days," Sengoku replied urbanely. Ring.
Jin tapped some ash off the end of his cigarette, "You'd be lost without me." Ring.
"Yes. But lo. I hear the batphone!"
Jin happily took the plastic red phone of its plastic red hook, "Sengoku's Office." He looked up, "It's God."
Sengoku gave the phone a mildly curious look, "How's he sound?"
"Like God."
"Tell him I'm not here." Jin hung up. Sengoku refocused on his associates, mainly Yukimura, "Where were we?"
Atobe blinked. Then blinked again. As far as he knew, angels couldn't lie, so it had been God on the other end... and Sengoku and Akutsu had just given him the figurative middle finger. "You... blasphemous..." he started, wondering if murdering a sinning angel would be frowned on. Lightning began to crackle near his fingertips as he prepared to deal divine punishment.
Yukimura knew things were about to get out of hand, and stepped between Atobe and the object of his ire. "Ohhh, this is cute!" he said, picking up a random desk toy - one that resembled a rubber snake - and jiggling it around. "Where'd you get this?"
"From Microsoft! Isn't it cool?" Sengoku was more than happy to lean over the snake, head now bent close to Yukimura's, and coo over the little rubber doohickey.
"It is! Kinda slithery... like a snake!" Yukimura said.
"Here, watch. Poke its stomach and its tongue pops out," Sengoku demonstrated by stabbing a finger into the rubber underbelly of the snake and indeed, out popped a long red tongue with a 'thweee' sound.
Jin scanned the ceilings for God's rebuttal and wondered if Yukimura and Sengoku thought they were actually fooling anyone. A puff of cosmic smoke and a dove fluttered from behind the ceiling fan. Right on time, Jin noted. It settled on the desk and offered its leg to him, where a note was tied. Jin was more than happy to untie the note and read it outloud, "Ahem. 'Sengoku. You are a jackass. Love, God.'" It was only by supreme effort that Jin didn't snicker. For this and this alone, he loved his job.
"That's it?" Atobe looked like he was about to be sick as the lightning at his fingertips died away. He was used to being in God's Loving Presence (reveled in it, in fact), and seeing a minor miracle wasted on stating a known fact was rather deflating. Of course Sengoku was a jackass. But God was wasting time on a wayward angel when he could be... well, saving souls or something?
Yukimura merely smiled. "God works in mysterious ways."
Sengoku nodded to this. "Indeed. None can truly grasp the entirety of His divine plan. This too had a purpose." He poked the quill. "Scribble a note."
The quill rustled itself over to the pad of paper and poised, waiting.
"Dear God. Most high, god of hosts, creator of the world, etc, etc. Jackass is outdated. I prefer the term asshole. Praise, honor, and glory forever and ever, etc, etc. Love, Sengoku." Jin ripped the paper off its pad as the quill flopped back on the desk and rolled it up for the dove to fly off with. Which it did, with great puffing of smoke.
Sengoku beamed. It was good to be back in Heaven. "You had something you needed to tell me, Yukimura-san?"
Yukimur's face instantly became grave. It felt like telling a five year old there was no Santa Claus or taking candy from a senior citizen - a horrible, horrible thing had been done, and even Atobe felt a bit guilty, even though it was most assuredly not his fault. "Sengoku-san, I think you've been treating people a bit too... carelessly lately." And if Yukimura was actually voicing a concern, it was definitely a problem.
"He's being an asshole, you mean," Atobe said, the course word sounding odd from his cultured lips.
Sengoku blinked with apparent artlessness, "What do you mean?"
"Do you remember what happened the last time you really, really annoyed Tezuka?" Yukimura asked.
"What about the last time he annoyed me? I was amazed he could grow that back that quickly," Atobe said, folding his arms across his chest.
Sengoku considered the floor clock, "Hmmm. I do seem to recall that," he looked up at Atobe and flashed a grin, "You're just not tough enough, I guess, messenger boy~"
Atobe knew well enough not to argue that he was, in fact, God's right hand and Sengoku was the deluded one. "I'm leaving," he announced. "Just answer your messages, and please do it without swearing, or else I'll send Shishido and Ohtori to clean the place up." He smiled cheerfully, imagining what damage Ohtori could do to Sengoku's carefully constructed disarray. Then he flashed out, glitter and gold lights and all.
Sengoku looked not at all perturbed at Atobe's exit, since Jin would be heading to hell soon enough, taking his office safely out of range of the too pure Ohtori. He gestured to a beanbag, the one Yanagi had been occupying previously, "Have a seat, Yukimura-san, and tell me what you mean by Tezuka getting annoyed."
Yukimura cast a look at Akutsu, then shrugged a bit and managed to take the beanbag chair with grace worthy of a yoga master. "He had a rather interesting offer from a young demon who you've been tormenting, and for a second he almost considered taking it... decidedly unlike him. Allying with Hell, I mean."
Jin pulled out some paperclips and endeavored to create a weapon of mass destruction with them. The minute Sengoku left the office, he had a war to wage with the clock, after all. The doings of the holiest of holies held no interest to him.
Sengoku pulled his legs up and folded them beneath him, leaning back a little on the desk, "You know how it is, Seiichi. Occasionally everyone gets tempted by something."
"You also know that the past has a nasty tendency to repeat itself. I'm here as your colleague, telling you that young devil is not-" The sound of the clock ticking closer to Doomsday interrupted Yukimura, who shook his head as he tried to regather his train of thought. "Tezuka is seriously considering the benefits of removing you. He would have a justifiable case - and that demon can justify it from his side. When heaven and hell unite, it means the end. You need to remember what your job is." Yukimura's eyes burned with passion. "You need to remember that there is an importance to this existence, and we don't all exist as your toys." His speech would have been a lot more powerful if he hadn't been playing with the rubber snake as he made it.
"If Tezuka didn't consider the merits of each proposition, he couldn't properly refute them, neh? Besides, you can already guess how this will fall: either Kirihara will stay or he'll be removed." Sengoku's eyes idly followed the wriggle of the snake for a long moment before looking up at Yukimura with garden green eyes, "I haven't forgotten. I never forget. It is my world, after all."
"It is our world, Kiyosumi," Yukimura corrected. He rose to his feet slowly, moving to brush a quick, affectionate kiss against Sengoku's cheek. "One of these days, you'll remember that."
It was really no use arguing with the other archangel, so he didn't. Sengoku sighed, reaching out to tuck a lock of paling hair behind Yukimura's ear, remembering when it had once been dark as midnight blue, "Oh, go out and hack something distasteful on Atobe."