I don't own Blue Exorcist.

"How clearly the sky reveals God's glory. How plainly it shows what he has done. Each day announces it to the following day; each night repeats it to the next."

Ichiro's eyes opened after some struggle. What the hell was Shirou doing now? He turned his head to see his roommate kneeling by his bunk, eyes closed. Was he… praying?

"No speech or words are used, no sound is heard, yet their message goes out to all the world…" He snapped out of it and looked at his roommate. "What are you doing up so early? I usually have to drag your sorry ass out of bed each morning."

"Well, I was sleeping, but you woke me up. What was that?" He sat up a little too quickly before remembering that he was on the bottom of a set of bunks. "OW! Dammit!" he muttered, rubbing his head. Fortunately, students of the cram school didn't have to reside in rooms of four people each and Sir Pheles kept each room's population at two.

Shirou looked at him blankly, squinting due to the fact he didn't have his glasses on at the moment. "Watch out. You're on the bottom bunk."

He simply glared at him. He knew that Shirou meant no harm, and had certainly grown used to his strange sense of humor, but it still annoyed him. "Really? I didn't notice."

"Judging by the growing lump on your head, it is safe to say you didn't."

"Anyway," he hissed through clenched teeth, trying to change the subject, "What was that?"

"Morning prayers. Nineteenth Psalm. Old habits die hard, I guess. I was stuck getting up at sunrise at my old monastery to clean up the church and do maintenance work. But before that, all of the priests and I would get together for morning prayers." He put on his glasses, and got up.

"So you don't have parents?"

"Not that I want to know. They dumped me on a doorstep as a newborn. The priests have been my family as long as I can remember. After they retire, I'm going to take over the monastery. Before that, seminary school. Before I can do that, cram school. All priests need to go through it. Well, I need to go."

"Go where?"

"For a walk." With that, he was out the door.

Ichiro plopped back on the bed. God, if you exist, why did you fix me up with a nutjob for a roommate?

XXXXX

Yuri stared at Ayumi's side of the room. Her roommate was insane. Absolutely, positively, insane. Looking on her roommate's side of the shared desk, she saw a pile of books and what she supposed were reports to accompany them. Sitting beside that was a list of students enrolled in the academy that were not attending on scholarship. A pair of expensive-looking glasses laid on top of her demonology textbook. Does she even sleep at all?

"Shouldn't you know it's rude to look through another person's things?" asked Ayumi from the doorway to their bathroom, holding her left eye open with her right hand and holding something on the tip of her left index finger, putting it in and blinking a few times. "In fact, at a school of this caliber, I believe that Sir Pheles made it illegal." She paused. "I don't suppose you attend actual school here."

Yuri blushed slightly. One reason she wasn't very good with people was that she had been forced to homeschool. "No."

"Then go back to bed and stop looking at my stuff. It's none of your concern that school starts today. Sweet dreams," she added sarcastically and flipped off the light. Not long after she left, Yuri hear a knock on the door. Opening it, she was somewhat surprised to see Miss Sable, clad in her usual white leather getup.

"I'm here on your father's orders," she started, skipping pleasantries and walking straight in. "Apparently, he thinks you can't watch out for yourself. I'm supposed to fix that. Let's go. I got a mission in Cambodia in three hours, and that's assuming Wade doesn't decide to fly the jet." Wade doesn't… what? Who's Wade? "I suppose he's 'Mr. Wilson' to you."

"Why are you going to Cambodia? Isn't there a branch of their own out there?"

Her face grew dark. "Not anymore. I don't suppose you're familiar with international affairs at the moment?"

Yuri shook her head. "Not a clue."

"Their dictator, who was somehow possessed by the Impure King, killed them all. He's housing a nest of Scorpio demons under his mansion and we have to flush them out." She started walking out of the room, and Yuri decided it was best to follow her. "So, Yuri… that's a strange name for a girl. In Russia, where I come from, it is decidedly a man's name. The first man in space shared your name."

"My dad used to live in Russia as a child. But then his parents fled to America a little after World War II ended. He enlisted when he was 16, moved up in the ranks, and got transferred to Japan. Somewhere along the road, he found out about demons. So the same thing happened with the True Cross."

"So he hardly remembers his roots. Either that or he really wanted a son. By the way, beating Shirou like that yesterday? A spark of genius. Now get dressed. I'll be waiting outside your room. Count yourself lucky. Where I grew up, I rarely even got that luxury."

XXXXX

Shirou needed contacts.

The sweat running down his face into his eyes was throwing off his aim, or at least that's what he wanted to tell Mr. Lester.

"C'mon, kid, you're better than this. I haven't even moved you up to a higher caliber gun yet. Now do it again. Faster."

The exercise was to hit a series of targets running, change the clip without stopping, and continue, no suffering in aim to show for it. He had seen Mr. Lester do it once, to give him the idea of the exercise, and he knew now why he was regarded as one of the best in the Order. He attempted it again, but just as he was changing the clip, he lost his footing, hit a rock, and found himself plummeting to the earth. Getting up, he realized that his glasses had fallen off, and searching blindly for them, he found them, but frowned in dismay at their state. The nose pieces had fallen off, a lens had popped out, and one of the arms was bent beyond any hope of repair. Insult was added to injury when Mr. Lester was tearing up, laughing, and almost doubled over.

"Wow, kid. I didn't know it was possible to be so uncoordinated."

"Oh, come on! It's not like you were always a killing machine."

"I was, actually. I grew up in Tennessee, and my dad refused to pay for anything we could make ourselves. So naturally, we never exactly went grocery shopping. We made our living off the land. We hunted, and I started, too once I could hold a gun."

"If you're so bent on self-sufficiency, why are you an exorcist?"

He paused, looking down briefly. "Because the only good demon is a dead one. They don't build; only destroy. They want this world for themselves, and I'll be damned before I let them have it. They're incapable of doing good. So if you ever come face to face with a demon, remember this: They don't know what truth is. You're better off just killing them before they open their mouths, no questions asked. Even in the form of an infant, the evil is still there." On him, a phone started ringing. He picked it up. Muttering a series of affirmatives, he hung up. "Okay, kid. I got a mission to take care of. Me, Wilson, Sablinova, or Thurman won't be teaching any classes today. You grew up in a missionary, right?"

He nodded the affirmative.

His face split into a grin. "Well, spare a prayer, will ya? Wilson's driving the chopper." He paused. "Oh, and kid." He threw a cigar at him. "We'll share these once I get back." He held up his hand to show an identical one.

XXXXX

It was a half-day for cram school today, thankfully. Kisuke decided that maybe joining the cram school hadn't been such a good idea, after all. All of the classes could put her to sleep almost instantly with the exception of Mr. Wilson's and Ms. Sable's classes, due to the interactive components. And the summoning and strategy classes? Forget it. Mr. Ryuuzaki even named the chalkboard where she would always have to write I will not fall asleep in class a hundred times after her. And the punishment at Ms. Thurman's class where she would have to write a 5-page essay on a battle of her choosing and how it could've ended differently was now called "Getting Kisuke'd". And Sister Agnes was constantly rapping her hand with a ruler, to the point where both of her hands and wrists were almost completely black and blue. She absolutely hated Scripture Recitation class.

"Miss Kotori!" yelled the nun, distracting her from her reverie. "Daydreaming again?" She felt the sharp sting of the wooden ruler on the back of her hand. She barely understood what Sister usually said, due to the fact that her convent was worldwide, and she herself came from India. But her usual punishments gave a crystal clear message.

"I am sorry, Sister. What were you asking?"

"Please recite the passage you were assigned to memorize last night."

She drew a blank. It was from the Bible, as it usually was. Maybe it was a Psalm? Or was it Kings? "I don't know, Sister. I'm sorry."

The Sister scoffed. "Very well. Mr. Fujimoto? Would you care to recite the passage?"

He stood up. "Vanity of vanities, so sayeth Qoheleth, vanity of vanities! All things are vanity! What profit have we from all the toil which we toil at under the sun? One generation departs and another generation comes, but the world forever stays. The sun rises and the sun sets; then it presses on to the place where it rises. Shifting south, then north, back and forth shifts the wind, constantly shifting its course. All rivers flow to the sea, yet never does the sea become full. To the place here they flow, the rivers continue to flow. All things are wearisome, too wearisome for words. The eye is not satisfied by seeing nor has the ear enough of hearing." With that, he sat back down.

Sister Agnes nodded at him approvingly. "Very good, Mr. Fujimoto."

Kisuke felt the blood rush to her face. "No fair! He was raised in a church! Nobody else probably knows that passage, and he's, like, the only Aria in the class!"

This time, the ruler went down on her head. "You will not speak unless spoken to, young lady! And no interrupting in class!"

When class ended, Shirou stopped by her. "Hey, I'm sorry that Sister flipped out on you like that."

She shrugged. "Oh well. I've gotten it from her before, remember?" her face broke out into a grin. "Besides. I've got a little surprise set up for her tonight. Care to join me?"

A/N: I got the idea for Sister Agnes from a couple of nuns I've known in my life. Sister Nancy, an old-school classic nun teacher, and Sister Melanie, from India, who died a few months ago after a 16-year battle with cancer. Please review!