A/N: Thanks for the correction, Gastleser!

I don't own or profit from any of what Kazue Kato has created.

P.E. One of Shiro's better subjects - well, normal P.E., at least.

"Remember: if the dökkálfr's vines touch you, you're dead. Well, uh, not dead but, you know, speaking figuratively…" The professor, upper middle class exorcist Gokuro, was an almost comical sample of stage fright. When he spoke he was fidgeting and stuttering and looking in all directions except at the students he was instructing. "If you die, a comrade needs to carry you back to base where you will be revived."

Honeybee had very simple rules: steal a sandbag from the guard without getting touched and make it back to base. What made it different from regular P.E. games was that the guard really was a dökkálfr. A lower-class one under Gokuro-sensei's control, but still…

"I can't believe it. It's like kindergarten."

There is no better way of discerning the personalities in a group than by making them solve a task.

Shizuku had charged ahead like a bull on rampage, dodging a few vines narrowly before getting hit. Kita ignored him as he advanced, observing from a safe distance and waiting for a chance to sneak in while the dökkalfr was focused on Agari. She was doing a solo-performance of what seemed like a very draining exercise in advancing and falling back. Sweat already dripped from the tip of her nose and Shiro looked very much forward to when her t-shirt would be soaked through. Meanwhile, Ryuuji danced hesitantly on his toes, looking for an opening to get in and drag Shizuku out: Sen had already given it a go, and been hit. Midori had insane stamina and a quick step, but her efforts to get support from Agari were completely ignored.

"Oi. Guys." Shiro was there to observe and investigate: that was his agreement with Faust. He had not planned on stepping forward like this, but their performance was unforgivable. "Guys – and girls –, we need to think this through. Oi! Would you just-"

A giant, slobbering blob of fur exploded into existence and roared Agari in the face, covering her in yellowish spit. It hit Midori square in the chest with a thick, arrow-tipped tail and made Ryuuji trip over his feet with a yelp. Even the dökkálfr held still for a bewildered moment. The thing trained its huge, yellow eyes on Sen.

"Shiro-san is trying to say something", she said with a soft smile from her spot on the ground. "Thank you, goblin." The demon disappeared with a muffled bang.

"Eh, yeah… Thank you, Sen-chan... Look, this isn't working. We aren't working. It's plain as day that this is an exercise in cooperation, and we're making asses of ourselves." Shiro shifted his feet to stand more firmly. If he was going to take on the leader role he might as well act it. "Agari-chan is a good sprinter, but lacks stamina." The tall girl's glare hardened, but she didn't protest. "Shizuku-san is a sprinter, too: you two should be taking the bags. The rest of us will provide distraction and carry those who fall. Midori-chan has the best stamina, and she's quick: she should be the main decoy." Midori nodded weekly in agreement, still recovering from having the air knocked out of her. "You adapt according to Agari-chan and Shizuku-san, and we adapt according to you. Sen-chan and Kita-san are both built lightly and are easy to carry, so you would be the best sacrifices if-"

"Sacrifices? You said this was a co-op exercise", Agari said, face set in stone. "Throwing comrades to the sharks isn't my idea of cooperation."

"I thought you came here to become an exorcist, Agari-chan", he said, challenge seeping into his voice and eyes. "Throwing themselves to the sharks is what exorcists do, to protect people. Anyone who isn't prepared to put his or her life on the line for others shouldn't come to True Cross Academy."

Agari eyed him for a long while, and Shiro wondered if it really had been so wise to say what he had said. Eventually, her strange smile quirked into place.

"You talk big, Shiro-kun. Very well: let's see your plan in action."

With coordinated distraction they got Shizuku and Sen back in the game, and from there it went smoothly for the most part. Sen tired quickly and had to be resurrected a few times, which let them discover that Ryuuji, though not very nimble, was strong enough to handle that task alone. Once that was established, Ryuuji became the main rescuer while the others concentrated on distraction and retrieval respectively. That was good, especially since Kita always managed to be someplace else whenever Shizuku needed rescuing.

The best fire to forge understanding is suffering, and the cement to build bonds is sweat. Panting, aching, limping and dripping, they looked at the twelve sandbags at the end of class and shared exhausted grins.

"Nice speech", Shizuku said in the changing room. "I think ye're about the only one with a shot at getting that flagpole ta listen. But you should watch it a little, ya know." He gave him a sideways glance as he towelled his hair dry. "Ya were right in what ye said, but man: don't say things like sacrifice. A word like that in a place like this opens old wounds. I lost my dad an' two sisters." Shizuku turned, allowing Shiro to see the pinkish, ragged scars of something that had torn deep into his back. "I can bet ya Agari-chan's lost a few, too. Ye seen the way she looks at Midori-chan and Ryuuji-san?" His brown eyes grew darker. "Things could get ugly there. I don't blame 'er fer holding a grudge 'gainst whatever killed her folks, but ye gotta make a difference between demon and half-demon. Ain't that right, Ryuuji-san?" he spoke up cheerfully as Ryuuji came out of the showers.

"Well, I… I guess." He looked lost but smiled, still with that earnest likability that Shiro had never seen any human possess. "I mean, there's good and bad people, and good and bad demons, so… I guess there are good and bad hanyou too."

"Good an' bad demons?" Shizuku raised a pierced eyebrow.

"Yeah, y-you know… some demons actually help people… and… and Sir Pheles switched allegiances openly…" Ryuuji was like a fish on dry land, floundering and flopping helplessly under Shizuku's steadily increasing scowl. "He… he's my hero. No demon or hanyou has ever accomplished what he's done. No demon has ever gains- gained enough trust from the Vatican to be appointed to that kind of- that kind of position. He-"

"Hold on. Lemme just get this straight before ya continue. Sir Pheles is our principal, right?" Shizuku had forgotten all about clothes or towel. "Is he a demon?"

"Yup", Shiro provided in light tones. "Kinda surprised me too, but when you think about it: who knows more about demons than a demon? Who would be better suited to supervise the training of exorcists?"

"And who would be a better spy fe' Satan than a demon inside the Vatican?"

"Shizuku-san!" Ryuuji looked horrified and hurt: a combination that went in like a spearhead between Shiro's ribs.

"I was just thinking!" Shizuku snapped. "Ye have to admit it's weird. The Vatican's been using demons ta get information for centuries, alright, but they never trusted them. Why this one? What did 'e do ta gain that acceptance? If anyone could tell me that, I might feel a bit easier 'bout it."

"That's classified", Kita enlightened dryly on his way over to his pile of clothes.

"Who asked you, dipshit?"

"Oh, some monkey that charges headfirst into anything without obtaining information beforehand. I bet everybody here knew Sir Pheles' origi-"

Shizuku's forehead struck Kita's nose bone with a devastating crunch. Kita responded with a crooked right that glanced off Shizuku's cheek, then a knee in the groin. Doubled-over, Shizuku shouldered the other in the gut and slogged his arms around him. Both went down on the floor.

Shiro's eyebrow twitched.

"Oi! Cut that out, you monkeys! Ryuuji-san, give me a hand here!"

Before Ryuuji had found the courage to step in with his monster strength, Shiro had contracted a split eyebrow and a painful throbbing in his ribs. He, Shizuku, and Kita were sitting in the infirmary: the latter two getting their asses chewed off by nurses, and Shiro sullenly getting taped together by a male nurse. How to explain this to Yasuda and Fuji? "The date didn't go well"? His lips stretched somewhat. Yeah, that would give them a good laugh.

The explanation would have to wait until tomorrow. The whole dorm was in bed when Shiro sleepwalked his way to his room, dumped the shoulder bag, shuffled down to the bathrooms and had to think really hard to get the right end of the toothbrush into his mouth. Checking his reflection, he did wish he'd gotten hit harder. Scars like that in the face looked manly.

"Guten Abend!"

Shiro shrieked, then remembered everybody was asleep, choked on the toothpaste, and coughed white froth into the sink.

"What are you doing?! You wanna kill me?!"

"Poor use of investment – no. How was your first day in cram school~?"

Shiro gave him an empty stare, glasses askew and a string of toothpaste-saliva dangling from his lip. Man or demon, how could anyone sound so chirping cheerful at three o'clock in the morning? A second question, formed by some very sleepy part of his mind, knitted his brows:

"Does this mean one of your magic keys goes to the dorm bathroom? On second thought, don't answer." He washed off the toothpaste, splashed water on his face and readjusted his glasses. "My first day? There's a personality test before admitting students, right? The weirder the better, and extra points if you have short temper?"

He turned again to face Faust, only to find that he had seated himself atop the tissue automat next to him; back straight, one leg crossed over the other and hands resting on his knee. He looked like a saintly little junior on his first school day, eager to absorb every word from the teacher: that was the kind of rubbish associations Shiro's brain saw fit to connect to the information his eyes supplied. A different part of his mind questioned if any tissue automat in any parallel universe could support that weight; yet another part tried to remember if he'd ever seen a man sit like that before.

"The people who apply to cram school usually are a colourful array. What do you think of them?"

Shiro dug around in his sleep-fogged quagmire of grey matter.

"Agari-chan is dynamite waiting to go off. Stiff, unimaginative, bull-headed and independent." He considered. "But not unreasonable. She'll listen to people she respects. She's a good fighter. And she's got huge boobs." Don't ever try to talk to superiors when tired. Don't talk to anyone when tired. "Kita-san I didn't talk much to, but he seems as if he lives to tick people off. Even if he gets whacked for it. Which he does. A lot. I don't even have to do it myself 'cause everyone thinks he's a dick. Midori-chan is super-cute." No. Shut up. Reset and reload. "She's probably the best fighter, too. Is it common? That half-demons apply to the Academy?"

"Many half-demons become exorcists, for different reasons."

"For different reasons…" Yeah, there sure were many different reasons in his class. "Sen-chan is the one I know least about. She's cute, too." Man, why even care? If you've killed the dog you might as well cook it. "But it's like she's not really there. She did this strange thing today… She summoned a familiar during class, just to break up the chaos and get people to pay attention to what I was saying. Or maybe that's normal?"

"You have your way, I have my way: is there a right way, or merely different ways~?" the demon hummed good-naturedly.

"Right…" Shiro massaged his tired eyes with thumb and forefinger. "Who else? Ryuuji-san. He's a bit on the timid side, but a nice guy. Too nice, he doesn't know how to speak for himself. Another half-demon from the looks of it, but nothing like Midori-chan. He worships you." Faust sniggered happily atop his tissue automat. "Then there's Shizuku-san, who thinks you're a spy sent by Satan."

"Oh, really~?" Rather than extinguish Faust's good mood, the comment painted a smirk on his face that was downright devilish. "And what do you think, Fujimoto-kun~?"

Shiro raised his smarting eyebrows. Was he tired enough to do this? Had enough of his common sense gone to sleep?

"I think you enjoy messing with people's heads." He fished out a cigarette, clamped his teeth around it, clicked open the lighter, and lit it: each act a measured defiance. Not once did he break eye contact. "And I think it annoys the hell out of you when it doesn't work."

"Quite the contrary." The smile grew wider, the eyes narrower: Shiro could have sworn the demon purred. "The possibility of failure is the reason for embarking on any enterprise." He took a nimble leap down on the tiled bathroom floor. "And how dreary to put dear Serendipity out of work with flawless plans~ I'm looking forward to hearing more when you are less tired." He touched the brim of his hat. "For now: Träum was Schönes~"

With that, Faust disappeared in a cloud of pink smoke.

"What a clown…"

Shiro then realised that he couldn't draw any breath through his cigarette; possibly because it had been replaced with a liquorice pipe. He grumbled and fished around his pocket for a new one, only to find the packet gone. In its place was a note: Those things will be the death of you. And they stink. – Sir M. Pheles. And a star.

"Pff, bite me…"

A/N: Some Nietzsche between the lines, since Mephisto seems to hold his philosophies in some regard. =)