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 6 Summary: In Which a family reunion (of sorts) takes place and a message is delivered.



The woman who walked down the street elicited stares from men. It might have been something about the slight sway in her step, which drew attention to her lovely hips. Or the fact that her chest was stacked better than a plate at IHOP. Or maybe her beautiful face, which was breathtaking and made many a man have to dash for the restrooms to take care of problems.

It wasn't that she was immodestly dressed. Her light button-up summer sweater and matching peach skirt were perfectly acceptable. The problem for any man who looked on her - and a few of the more bisexual and lesbian women - was that Fuji Yumiko was the definition of "sex on two legs."

Saeki Koujirou, being admittedly a member of the male species and being ruled by the fifth member, was indeed problematized by the sudden appearance of sex on leg -- errr, that hot chic -- errr, Yumiko.

It being a summer day, he was equipped with the latest in eye-screen equipment, and as she approached, Saeki was compelled to lift them and wolf-whistle.

Yukimo paused as she noticed the hot guy with white hair making a blatant appraisal of her assets from a table at a cafe about ten feet away. Having no particular plans, she gave him a slight smile in return as she approached his table, the click of the heels of her sandals a heady rhythm. "Is anyone sitting here?"

Was anyone sitting here? The goddess was speaking! Was anyone -- hot, damn, no one was sitting there! Saeki felt the need to leap to his feet and pull out a chair, except that would reveal a condition better left casually unnoticed. Instead, he lounged down a little farther, flashed his most brilliant 'give me sex, you know you want to' smile, and said, "Not at all. Please join me. Would you care for a drink?"

Glancing up at the sky, she noticed with disappointment that it was still too early to get away with ordering a beer. She'd have to order something cutesy - and with a lot less alcohol... unless.... "Feel like margaritas?" she asked.

"If you're buying and carding."

She laughed in surprise at his gall. "Usually men want to by me drinks," she said even as she signaled for a waiter. The waiter, who spent a very long time staring at her chest, forgot to ask for ID as she sent away for the margaritas. Resting her elbows on the table, she studied Saeki carefully. "Want to tell me why that was worth it?"

Saeki's first response was not suitable for public consumption, his second was a little better, "You tell me. What would the lady like?"

There were many things she would like but she decided to play it simply. "Well, let's start with a name? I'm Fuji Yumiko."

"I'm Saeki Koujirou. Pleased to meet you, fair damsel," Saeki half-bowed over the table. He paused as her name connected to his brain. "Fuji? Any relation to Fuji Yuuta?"

Her breath caught momentarily. "Fuji... Yuuta?" she whispered, and all the playfulness drained out of her.

That was quite the change in mood. Saeki forced his eyes up from her chest, "You know him, then?

"You... could say that." She forced a smile onto her lips. "I just haven't heard about him in a long, long time. He had an accident, and I haven't heard from him since." She took a deep breath to steady herself. "Is he doing well?"

Saeki was most pleased to offer the goddess assurances, condolences, and any comfort (hopefully personal) that she might require, "Oh, he's doing fine. Good grades in his classes, boyfriend who gets him laid, everything a man can ask for."

She laughed at that. "I'm glad to hear that. I'm sure you're a very good... friend... to him." Her foot slid out of her shoe and began to trail up Saeki's leg suggestively. "It'd be nice if we could be... friends... too."

"Oh, the best friend ... " Saeki hummed. Today was his lucky day, no question!
Fuji Yuuta was used to Saeki bringing home pretty girls. Occasionally they'd even stop making out long enough to be introduced - but the one currently sitting with her sweater undone and Saeki's hand on her breasts immediately broke off her attempts to see how far her tongue could go down Saeki's mouth to blink at him in surprise when he opened the door.

"Yuuta!" she exclaimed, and the smile of happiness was genuine. "It's so nice to see you looking so well!"

He hesitated, the door handle still in his hand as he desperately tried to remember where he'd seen the pretty woman before. She was a few years older than they were, and not the type who usually wound up in a boy's college dorm for a one-nighter. "Um, I'm sorry, miss... do I know you?"

Her smile became a bit gentle, and had a touch of sadness to it. "You should, but it's not your fault you don't remember me. I'm Fuji Yumiko, your older sister."

Saeki, who had been desperately signaling Yuuta to get the heck out of the room so he could get off in peace, froze. "Sister?" he croaked.

Her smile was brilliant. "Did I forget to mention that?"

Blue eyes narrowed. "You did."

"Sorry about that!" She ran a hand over Saeki's bare chest in apology.

Yuuta wasn't quite sure what to make of it all. As far as he'd known, he'd always been an only child, raised by a disturbingly normal middle class family who had been surprisingly supportive when he'd announced that he was gay - or maybe bi. His mother liked to make him cookies and his father was a salaryman. Never before had they made any mention of another child.

"I'm an only child," he stated a bit belatedly. Of course he'd dreamed once or twice about having a sibling - he particularly wanted an older brother - but finally meeting one, who happened to be sitting half naked with his roommate of all people, was enough to make him feel... disturbed. He found his eyes lingering on her form, particularly her full breasts which were almost entirely naked. If he hadn't seen it, he would have sworn they were fake. They were just too... large... to be real.

"I'm afraid it's a bit more complicated than that, Yuuta," Yumiko said. She bit the bottom of her lip, trying to decide. "We kind of... lost you."

"Lost... me?"

"It was an accident!" she incident, and her eyes filled with tears. "Not only were you lost, but I think you managed to forget all about us in the process." She sniffed once, and Saeki, ever the gentleman, wrapped an arm around her shoulders, which she snuggled into.

Seaki reached up to stroke her hair while asking curiously, "But how did he get lost?"

"Our family made a bad deal. We thought there was something we really wanted, and we didn't know enough to be happy with what we had."

The genuine pain in Yumiko's voice drew Yuuta to her. His instincts - which were never, ever wrong, told him that she was telling the truth. "Why didn't you look for me, then?"

"You think we haven't been? Yuuta, there's been people searching for you for longer than you can imagine." There was a bit of amusement in her voice. "The Fuji family is very, very powerful. I suppose it's fate that you were given to a family with the same name."

Saeki sighed, rather in complete disbelief, "Yare, yare ... sounds like a plot."

"Of the most devilish kind," Yumiko agreed. "I'm just so happy you're looking well!" She clapped her hands in front of her. "How about we all go out to dinner, my treat? It would be lovely to catch up and see how you're doing."

"But ... " Sex and food wage a minor war for dominance of Saeki's body. His hand slid up Yumiko's thigh, "weren't we doing something?"

"Oh, we can do that later," she promised as she began to button her shirt. "I haven't seen my brother in eons!"

Yuuta felt confused as Yumiko grabbed both his and Saeki's arms, and dragged them out the door. She chattered merrily about the weather and asked them about classes on the walk, before finally leading them to a nice little Mexican restaurant. Even though the place required reservations, the trio sailed in, claiming the best table in the house.

Yuuta found Yumiko engaging and charming, and felt her happiness at the company. Friendliness radiated off of her, and he was suddenly glad to have met her... which made him wonder...

"Do I have any other family?"

"Well... maybe you should wait and see. It's complicated," Yumiko said, patting Yuuta on the head as she groped Saeki somewhere lower in a remarkable display of dexterity.
Tezuka had teleported straight to Oishi's apartment with barely a thought, ignoring the filtered sounds of the neighbors as he compulsively straightened his already made bed and then went to prepare an equally compulsive tea.

He had been talking with the Divine Father. Or rather, talking to rather than with. Prayer was an act that only went one way and really, Tezuka hadn't wanted to be answered, just to spill his guts. If God didn't want him to do something ... He'd say something, right?

Oishi was already in the kitchen, and from the scent coming from the oven, he was baking cookies. Even if the smell hadn't been a dead-give away, the mess of unwashed bowls, mixing equipment and half-used ingredients was a dead give away. It was a bad sign - Oishi only baked when he was upset about something. It was just too bad that he never learned how to do it very well. No matter how many batches of cookies, cakes and other confections he tried to make, he'd yet to produce anything that approached "edible."

Tezuka regarded the implements of cooking with something approaching dread, warily stepping into the cramped corner that might possibly hide the cups. Perhaps he could grab his tea and make a tactical retreat.

Oishi's reaction on seeing Tezuka was interesting, to say the least. He eeped! a bit, and the bowl with which he was mixing frosting slipped out of his fingers and onto the floor. "Darn it!"

Tezuka blinked and watched the bowl splatter icing across the floor, "I apologize for startling you?"

"Oh, no! It's my fault, I mean, I felt you come in, and I know you like a cup of tea, would you like me to make you one?" Oishi did a remarkable impression of one Ibu Shinji when flustered.

"I can make my own tea," Tezuka took hold of a cup and held it very firmly, as though it might be an effective weapon. Or maybe a shield. "Are you ... okay?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" Oishi asked, shifting a bit nervously. The cow-pattern apron he wore bore was already quite stained from his baking expedition. "Tezuka, how about you sit down and I do that for you? I'm sure you've had a very long day." Never mind the fact that it was only 1 p.m. "It's not a problem!" Oishi reached out to relieve Tezuka of the cup.

Tezuka took a step back, still holding the cup. He was getting rather determined about keeping it in his possession ... Oishi might ... do things to it while he wasn't looking. Like attempt to bake with it. Or put something baked in it. "Oishi ... "

"Ijustwantwhatsbestforyou!" Oishi said, and then made a lunge for the cup... forgetting about the mess on the floor.

Luckily he'd been using a metal mixing bowl, so there were no pieces of glass, but the icing proved to be quite slick, and Oishi's slipper-shod feet sent him spinning forward. He landed with an "ommph!" on Tezuka, and such was his momentum (and the lovely laws of physics which Renji was particularly fond of) that he ended up bring Tezuka down to the ground. The larger angel really made for a more comfortable landing for Oishi, but being on top of Tezuka was the last place he wanted to be at the moment with his promise to Fuji hanging over his head.

He looked at Tezuka in shame, noting absentminded that the archangel had managed to maintain his hold on the cup despite the fall.

The cup emerged completely unscathed from the attack, though Tezuka could not say the same. He made an "oof" sound as he hit the ground and opened an eye (not realizing he had closed them) to peer warily at Oishi. There was the imminent feeling that he was about to get groped again and he wondered if he should cut it off at the pass ... or if he wanted to cut it off at the pass.

Oishi knew a chance when he saw it. "Tezukaimsosorrybutihaveto!" he said, and leaned down and kissed him.

"Mmmmppphhhhhh!!!!" was the reply. Tezuka stared at Oishi's red face, mouth too shocked to move.

The kiss was awkward, and Oishi knew as soon as he started that it wasn't going to satisfy the requirements of his promise. His tongue, for example, bumped against Tezuka's teeth, and he totally had the wrong angle for "giving it to him just like that." His face burned as he broke away. "Sorrysorrysorrysorry!" He scittered backwards, ending up in a corner, wrapping his arms around his legs as he buried his face against his knees.

As soon as Tezuka recovered, Oishi knew he'd be toast.

Tezuka stared at Oishi as if he had grown a third head, a fifth leg, a tentacle maybe, and possibly even a pair of conquering green eyes and a pair of antennae. Surely, Oishi was not of this universe created by God. His mouth moved, open and shut, up and down, before sound came out ... and a high-pitched sound it was, "What was that?!"

Oishi started to mutter a bit, but he ended up making no sense and just rocking back and forth a bit, resembling a patient from an asylum.

Tezuka sat up, compulsively straightening his clothes with his free hand (he was still determinedly clutching the cup with the other). His voice, having resettled into the audio range that he happened to like frequenting, grew a bit more firm, "Oishi. What was that?"

Oishi was too lost in his own misery to even notice. Tezuka stood up, walked the few feet to Oishi, and dropped the cup on his head.

The sound of the cup hitting the floor was ignored as Oishi finally jerked out of his trance to see one of the most powerful creatures in existence looming over him with a neutral expression - the one Tezuka wore when he was suppressing anything that might have shown on his face. OIshi swallowed, waiting to be damned to fire and brimstone for laying a finger on the archangel.

Now that he finally managed to get Oishi's attention, Tezuka repeated his query, "What was that?"

"Iranintofujiandhewantedtosendyouamessag ebutigaveitwrongandimsososorry!" Oishi said, his words running together still.

Tezuka blinked, face falling into it's more standard expressionlessness as he takes a moment to figure out what Oishi just said. Oh. Oh! He shifted his focus to the kitchen wall for a moment, considering Fuji and the usual nature of his messages.

He crouched down to ask, "Was it something like this?" before leaning forward to seal his mouth over Oishi's and nimbly stick his tongue down the other angel's throat.

Oishi felt his eyes flutter in shock. Tezuka... actually was pretty good at kissing! He was much better than Oishi, who'd been practicing on and off for five centuries with Kikumaru.

Between Fuji's centuries long seduction attempts and the random traveling accident that was Sengoku, Tezuka felt that he had a pretty good handle on the concept of lip-to-lip contact. In fact, he felt downright proud of the little tricks he had managed to pick up.

Breaking the kiss with a final lick to Oishi's lips, Tezuka rocked back onto his heels, watching Oishi expectantly for his answer.

Oishi felt his lips move once, twice - and then he started to completely meltdown. "T-Tezuka!" he stammered as his brain ceased all functioning. His other brain, though, was starting to stir, and he wanted to find some way out of this, but... he could still feel that stupid promise binding him.

Tezuka's head tipped exactly one degree to the side. This was his version of cocking his head. "Well?"

Oishi's first brain kicked in as he realized that Tezuka had asked a question. He stared at the face like a deer caught in the headlights, a bit breathless and wondering if Tezuka had always been so handsome. "Not quite." To his relief, he managed not to stammer.

That was unfortunate. It might require more kissing to discover the exact combination that Fuji had used in his message. There was also a reasonable chance that there was groping involved. Tezuka's head tipped another degree. Not that kissing Oishi was an unpleasant notion ...

Oishi saw a considering look in Tezuka's eyes, and decided to make another go. "It was more like this," he said, and then he leaned forward for a third kiss, which lasted quite a while. As he broke away, he groped Tezuka, trying not to notice how well-shaped Tezuka's ass was.

Tezuka decided that he liked the way Oishi tasted, though he twitched at the grope. "I see."

Oishi tried to see if he'd been unbound from the threats of the promise. He shifted his sight, but there was still a blue thread wrapped around his left hand, trailing off to wherever Fuji likely was. "I still didn't do it right."Tezuka adjusts his head to the three degree marker, "Then what exactly are you missing?"

Oishi tried to recall the scene, and realized what was different. "We were standing," he said. He wasn't sure if his legs were going to hold him, though.

Tezuka stood and offered Oishi a hand up.

Oishi couldn't help but notice how warm Tezuka's smooth skin was. He was amazed he was still alive - and even more amazed that Tezuka was being cooperative. Then again, Tezuka understood the grave nature of giving someone your word, and the consequences if it was unfulfilled.That Tezuka did, though sometimes one's word was like a noose around one's neck, always and ever demanding satisfaction. It had only taken once to teach him never to give one's word lightly. He released Oishi's hand as soon as the other angel was standing and waited, nerves twitching with something akin to anticipation.

This time Oishi remembered the way Fuji had been - confident and self-satisfied, sure that he knew what he was doing. Oishi smiled at Tezuka, and before the other could relax, leaned up and caught Tezuka's mouth with his own.

A second later, he forgot what he was doing, and just concentrated on trying to get the stunned Tezuka to respond. His tongue toyed with Tezuka's, brushing against it playfully before running against Tezuka's lower lip. His hands rose from his side to wrap around the older angel's body, and then he found himself grabbing Tezuka in a very inappropriate place - and felt the binding of the promise lift.

Oishi knew he should stop.

Knowing and doing are two different things. Not to mention the fact that it was quite nice to play tonsil hockey with Oishi ... someone he could actually trust versus some others he could name. Tezuka's hand rose to trail along the column of Oishi's throat to cup the other angel's face, shifting to close the distance between them.

Sweet, warm, the taste of -- the binding of Tezuka's promise pulled tight, jerking him back into familiar focus. He broke the kiss, giving Oishi's lips a reluctant parting lick. "Better now?"

Oishi came back to himself, blinking just a bit. "Um, yes..." he said, becoming aware that his body now had other demands. "I think."

If it was in Tezuka's nature to snarl with annoyance, he would. Fuck, fuck, fuck! The noose tightened again, reminding him he was promised elsewhere in these matters and woe be it if he faltered. Fuck, fuck, fuck! Oh yes, and cursing happens to be a sin, came the little reminder via the voice that sounded disturbingly like Sengoku. Fu -- ark. Mind you, none of this internal storming actually showed on Tezuka's face, "Good."

Oishi decided there was only one thing he could do in this situation. "I'm going to go take a shower." A very, very cold one.
Sunlight was something that Kirihara absolutely hated. It was bright, it was cheerful, and he could feel his epidermis being damaged from fifteen minutes exposure. He wasn't in danger of skin cancer or anything, but the feel of the warmth on his skin made him long for the sunset, when the sky would be properly dark and people would start lurking about and getting in trouble. Crime rates were higher at night, a lovely thing.

Even though he'd voiced his complaints about the weather conditions numerous times, and had his eyes safely shielded by the best pair of sunglasses money could buy (not that he bought them - who would buy them when a five-fingered discount could be applied?), he was sitting in the corner of the school courtyard. It was a lovely grassy area with a few old-growth trees that were worn smooth at the base from having students lean against it as Kirihara was at the moment, thankfully finding a bit of shade.

If Kirihara was hiding in the shade, Sengoku was shamelessly on display in the grass, practically writhing on it as he stretched and squirmed in the sun. Beautiful earth and far too brilliant sun. Sengoku grinned widely as he stared directly at the fiery orb before flopping over, letting it pleasantly bake his back as he moved his grin to Kirihara. "Is there a reason you're hiding over there?"

"Let's think about this. I'm a creature of darkness. I would be cavorting around in the sun... why?" Kirihara asked.

"Sun is fire, fire is burning, burning is hell, hell is the home of demons. Perfectly logical to suck some of it in."

"You make my head hurt," Kirihara whined. "Mind telling me what you wanted to lecture me about today? Or can I just go back to bed and be a normal slacking college student?"

Sengoku grinned. "Focuses. Unless that's too complicated for you today, oh slacking student."

"I have plenty of focus. I know exactly what I want." Kirihara allowed himself a brief moment to imagine the whole world roasting in hell.

"Not focus, focus. You know, individuals around whom great things happen?" Sengoku raised an eyebrow of superficial inquiry as he ran his fingers through the grass, as if to comfort it against Kirihara's wishes.

"You mean people of great power and influence?" Kirihara returned. "Corrupt them, corrupt everyone they know?" He smiled a bit. "I seem to recall a serial killer in the United States..."

"Were you born dense or did you get that way through hard work?"

The glare Kirihara gave would have dropped Sengoku dead if he was a mere mortal. The evil eye was a specialty, after all.

Sengoku beamed at him. Immunity to the evil eye happened to be one of his specialties. Wonderful how the dice fall out just so ... "Focus as in more than power and influence, mine own. Focus as in around them the world could shift."

Kirihara wasn't following. He knew he didn't look terribly brilliant as he reached up to inch his sunglasses down his nose so he could get an unshaded view of the raving lunatic in front of him. "What in hell are you talking about?"

"Shinji, Moses, Noah, Adam ... " Sengoku's head tipped to the side as he added in a musing voice, "I guess you're really too young to know about any of that. It's once in an angelic lifetime sort of stuff."

Kirihara's jaw dropped. "You're saying Shinji is capable of saving humanity?" He tried to think of the drunkard he had seen as a savior, and came up short, unsurprisingly.

Pure amusement appeared in Sengoku's face, "I'm saying that he's a focus."

Kirihara was too wound up to notice Sengoku's usual word games. "Damn it. Why am I wasting time when I could be assuring the destruction of the world?" He jumped to his feet, prepared to show one Ibu Shinji how hopeless and ugly the world was.

"Because one demon means nothing to the destruction of the world. Not even one such as you," Sengoku drawled, as if bored, but beneath it was a sharpness.
Kirihara's enthusiasm dimmed as he caught the warning. "One demon can have a lot of impact."

"True, true," Sengoku plucked a stem of grass and twirled it idly between his fingers, "But it's all about timing. Sure, he's a focus ... but the when might not be right yet."

"You're just trying to protect him," Kirihara replied, turning as he settled his sunglasses back on his nose.

"Moses was unbreachable until he was told to speak to the rock, Noah was immune until he drank some wine, and Adam couldn't be touched until God told him not to eat of the fruit."

Sengoku did have a point. "They were free of sin, though. From what I see, Shinji wallows in it..."

"See? Already damned. Even the efforts of the beloved Oishi and the balmy Sengoku haven't been enough to rescue him from his wretched state. So why are you running away from my lesson? You've got plenty of time to worry about Shinji later."

Kirihara knew there was a flaw in Sengoku's logic - there always was - but he couldn't find it. "Fine then," he said, turning back to reclaim his position against the tree. "So Shinji's a focus. Apparently there's nothing I can do about it, so why should I care?"

"Because usually a lot of bad things happen when it's time? The lord of hell falls, archangels die, bunch of minions bite the dust ... " Sengoku stuck the blade of grass between his teeth and chewed on it. "Most people like to know about that kind of stuff in advance?"

"Lord of hell... falls?" Kirihara blinked. "Fuji's not going to be replaced anytime soon."

"You never know about those kind of things. Satan got axed during the flood, after all."

"Oh, him," Kirihara said dismissively. "I forgot about that."

"How could you for -- oh, that's right. You're too young."

"Duh. It was a couple thousand years - hey wait. How old are you?" Kirihara had been getting suspicions that Sengoku had been around a while, but the way he talked about Satan made him wonder.

"Older than you?"

"Do you remember Lucifer?" Kirihara asked, a true gauge of age. If Sengoku could recall the first of the devils, then he was positively ancient.

Sengoku smiled that slow smile of his, "I remember his end."

It was like Sengoku had put a sign over his head saying "old bastard! old bastard!" Kirihara was starting to wonder if he'd bit off more than he could chew - but "caution" was a word not in his vocabulary. "Tell me, did Tezuka really stick it to him? Or was it Yukimura? There's a rumor that said Yukimura did it, but didn't want Satan to know since the guy was kinda nuts."

"I dunno, I was kind of fond of him, nuts and all"

"He was a loser," Kirihara proclaimed.
"Okay, so he was kinda dumb letting Yukimura get the jump on him ... "

Kirihara sighed. "Anyone who gets taken out by that limp-wristed do-gooder doesn't deserve anything close to respect."

Sengoku looks amused, "Even if he's an archangel?"

"What's so special about them, anyway..."

"They talk directly with God," Sengoku paused, "Oh. And they're stronger than you," he stuck his tongue out at Kirihara in what could only be called childish nyah nyah.

"Some of us talk directly with God," came the smooth and altogether too bland interjection from Tezuka, who had snapped into existence behind the both of them with not even a drop of 'by your leave'.

Sengoku was on his feet in a split second with an overly cheerful cry of, "Tezuka!!" as he pounced on the archangel with a mighty leap. Well, he would have pounced if Tezuka hadn't stepped to the side at the very last moment, letting Sengoku crash face first into the grass, shoving up vegetation with his nose. This was, naturally, not to be bourn, and Sengoku snapped his arm out to crack into the back of Tezuka's legs.

This too might have been effective if while in falling, Tezuka hadn't adjusted the position of his elbow so that it slammed into the small of Sengoku's back.

"Ahhhh Tezuka-sama doesn't love me anymore!!"

Tezuka was ever so happy to grind his elbow in a little bit more, completely droll, "Yes, you keep those amicable delusions of yours that I loved you in the first place," before calmly getting up and brushing his clothes off with anal precision, as if he did this kind of thing every day.

"So cruel!!!"

Kirihara blinked once as he stared at the archangel voted by denizens of hell as "most likely to have a pole up his ass." Seeing a familiar look of irritation on Tezuka's face made him inch up his respect for Sengoku's prowess - he'd actually managed to coerce some kind of expression onto the granite visage.

It'd been a couple of centuries since he'd seen Tezuka, and the last time they'd met, things hadn't gone well - for Kirihara. There had been a lovely rebellion that Kirihara had fully planned to end with a crushing defeat, but Tezuka had deftly spun it to create a working democracy. Kirihara was still stinging from that one.

"Tezuka-san, how nice to see you here," Kirihara drawled, not even bothering to rise to his feet. "Dare I hope you're here to drag a truant angel back to heaven?" The sight of Sengoku being ground into the ground was already becoming one of his favorite memories.

Tezuka merely glanced down at Sengoku, who was apparently playing dead, and nudged the other angel with the tip of his foot, "I do not think you will be that lucky."

Nudging provoked the immediate reaction of clinging burr and Sengoku coiled himself around Tezuka's leg with all the speed and dexterity of a snake. Almost, almost, Tezuka's eye twitched as he shook it in hopes of getting the angel to let go.
Kirihara watched in fascination, amazed at Sengoku's apparent desire to be erased from existence. You just did not do that Tezuka if you wanted to keep your life.

Sengoku smiled and Tezuka actually snapped at him, "Do not even think it."Sengoku pouted instead, "You take away all my fun."

"Let go of my leg."

"I like it here."

"You bring shame upon the name of archangel. LET GO."

"But my love for this leg is true!"

"OFF." The air snapped with a crack of power and Sengoku made the most woeful face any creature could possibly own before detaching and plopping back to earth with a thump. He made a test sniffle and Tezuka just glared at him.

Kirihara stared at Sengoku, too, before turning and speaking to Tezuka in his calmest, most rational voice. "Please tell me you were joking."

"I never joke," was the calm, if somewhat aggravated reply. Sengoku grinned, since that was somewhat of a joke in and of itself.

Kirihara took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. His smile was amazingly pleasant as he faced Sengoku. "I thought there were four archangels?"

Sengoku beamed at Kirihara as if he were a prize student, "There are!"

"Tezuka, Yukimura, Sanada and Atobe," Kirihara recited faithfully.

"Sanada's not an archangel," Sengoku hummed with near glee.

Kirihara took another breath, and the hiss as it escaped through his teeth was notable. "I have a fucking headache," he said. "If I didn't know you couldn't lie, I'd be laughing my ass off right now." Kirihara's language started to grow more and more foul, making Tezuka flinch a bit on the inside. "You... are one of the holiest of holies..." He stared at Sengoku like he'd grown a fourth head.

"Actually, no one has been able to figure out why God keeps him around," Tezuka stated calmly. Mind you, he had his suspicions, but it wasn't fit to mention them before demons.

Sengoku flashed a smile at them both and then bounced to his feet so he could make a dramatic pose, hand pointed to the heavens, "I keep telling you, Tezuka honey, it's for comedy relief."

"You are a disgrace."

"I like to call it a special kind of genius."