Paved with Good Intentions
by surefall and aishuu
Disclaimer: Based on Prince of Tennis, by Konomi.
Part 17 Summary: In which the characters get ready to rumble!
Part 17: Hell Hath No Fury...
It had been a long time since the three had gathered together. They'd met individually, of course, but for some reason or another, they'd never managed to get together for cakes and cookies like they'd always said they would. Smooch, smooch, let's do lunch, and that of course never happened.
The room was set deep underneath a mountain, and locked with an age clause. Only those who had seen humanity come into existence would be able to enter. It was a tricky lock, and the only other eligible creature would have been Fuji, but he was wise enough not to mess with their affairs. The room was simple in a primitive way, with a table made of stone set in the center. Around it sat three wooden chairs, each carved elaborately with designs and caricatures.
And that was it.
Yukimura arrived first, since he was always prompt. He looked around their room with a touch of dismay, seeing inches of dust piled up. Waving a hand, he applied his all-purpose divine powers to restore it to its past pristine glory. He smiled a little before placing a basket of fruit in the center. The others would chip in with their own refreshments, but he wanted to make sure they had something healthy. Almost as an afterthought, he summoned three tankards of fresh water.
Dan skipped through the metaphysical lock shortly after Yukimura, wearing a cute little red hood and a basket full of booze. Bailey's Irish Creme was his favorite at the moment, so naturally it made up a significant portion of the basket, along with seven bottles of Euphrates wine that he had happened to dig up with the hellish throne. That stuff should be pretty damn good by this point if it hadn't managed to evaporate.
Chirping a hello to Yukimura, Dan shoved his basket onto the table, threw his cloak over the chair he claimed as his own and made a face at the reminder that as time passed, the number of chairs decreased until only three of the original council remained to stand judge on internal affairs. He also made a face at the water and fruit and summoned up some opium to combat such health and goodwill.
Yukimura sighed, shaking his head. "This was a lot more fun when I wasn't the only responsible person here," he said, finally taking his seat. The chair looked like it had been made out of a set of wings which gracefully arched to create a beautiful frame for Yukimura's frail beauty.
Dan smiled innocently, "You just have no appreciation for the finer things in life, Yukimura-kun," wrestling with a bottle of the Euphrates wine. The cork seemed to be stuck, glued down with ancient dust.
Sengoku slid out of the shadows and dropped the buffalo wings, potato skins, and cheese sticks (still in their take-out bag no less) onto the table while Dan was occupied with the cork. Spying the bottles, he scooped one up with undisguised glee, hugging it to his chest. "Euphrates wine! Dan, you're the demon of my heart! Oh, hi, Yukimura."
Yukimura just took an apple, quartering it neatly with a knife he'd created just for that purpose. He held out a piece to Sengoku. "Want some?"
"Can it be dipped in the wine?" Sengoku asked with a grin, beginning his own grand fight with the wine bottle in his possession as he flopped back into his seat. The chair appeared to be a dragon turned to wood, raising wings above Sengoku's shoulders and a seven-pointed crown above his head.
"Everything can be dipped in wine," Dan replied with a smirk, stealing the piece Yukimura had offered to Sengoku to demonstrate. "It's good!"
Yukimura gave them up as a lost cause. "Sengoku, why did you summon us?" he asked instead, deciding to get business underway.
Finally freeing his bottle from its cork prison, Sengoku took a generous swig of the wine before replying, "Dan can tell you, I just called the meeting for him."
Dan poured himself a glass before scrambling into his chair, which had a lot of claws and fangs and bloody bones for a bunny rabbit chair with such cute fuzzy ears. He looked very serious and old in the moment that he replied, "Kirihara-kun killed Ryouma-kun."
Yukimura frowned thoughtfully as he tried to place the name. "You mean Nanjiroh's spawn?"
Dan nodded. "He just did it, without any reason ... "
Yukimura thought carefully before replying. "Then he's like he was toward the end." He took a sip of water to moisten his suddenly dry throat.
"Yes ... " Sengoku sighed, swirling the contents of his bottle, which was suddenly not sufficient to cheer him up, "which means he'll have to be removed. I'll do it." With Yukimura damaged and Dan under oath, that really only left him.
"Sengoku, you can't mess around with this anymore," Yukimura warned. "He needs to be removed now, not when you feel tired of playing with him." He knew Sengoku's style, and easily saw through the weak promise
Dan made a face. "He'll only get worse, not better." In this matter, Dan spoke with the greatest experience, having actually been in hell when Satan was last enthroned there.
It was rare Yukimura was in full agreement with Dan. "I know you loved him, but Satan is not the angel he was when you knew him. If he starts out this crazy, there's no telling where he will go from there."
Sengoku sighed more heavily this time, resting his chin in his palm. It was unfortunately true. Last time he had let Satan nearly destroy the world before he did something, this time ... this time things were already beginning to fall out of alignment (though admittedly due mainly to Fuji) and they were only going to get worse. If only ...
"Challenge him for the throne," Dan said suddenly, figuring he could get Fuji kicked out for good if Sengoku went that route.
Sengoku blinked at him and smiled. "Challenge him, eh?"
Yukimura raced through the calculations. "It might not be a bad idea. It would restore the power imbalance between Heaven and Hell at the moment."
"Even though it will cause more future difficulty than I care to think about," Sengoku replied, though it was merely the prop up of an objection. The idea itself had merit, it was the cover up afterward that would be delicate.
"We can make sure you have our support," Yukimura said softly. The back of his chair started to glow as he prepared to official denounce Satan's existence.
The bunny ears twitched and began to glow as Dan bounced with glee, "Yay, this is going to be fun!"
Due the rearrangement of hellish authority, Kikumaru Eiji had to leave Oishi in the capable hands of the other drunks (after having left a very long line of jelly shots on the bar to keep Oishi busy hopefully long enough to keep him there and drunk until Eiji got back) while making that quick trip to hell for Satan's coronation.
Murphy's law being Murphy's law, though, the minute he vanished was the minute that Shinji oozed into the bar and made his way to a seat beside Oishi (who he didn't recognize right away in Oishi's drunken state) and snuck a jelly shot from the line and sucked it down.
Oishi blinked as he notice one - or was it two?- of the tiny glasses disappear. "Huh?" He blinked, realizing the person sitting next to him was vaguely familiar.
Shinji turned just enough to pretend he hadn't touched the shots, "Whatdoyouwant?" he mumbled, before blinking slowly at Oishi, finally recognizing him. Oishi? What was Oishi doing here? Oishi was supposed to be at The Lounge, which he was avoiding since he didn't want to see Oishi's concerned face when he dodged the question of how his recent love affairs had turned out.
"I want my glass back," Oishi answered.
"It's mine now," Shinji replied, stealing another glass. Oishi didn't need to be drinking, he needed to be drinking.
Oishi, still not actually placing Shinji in his memory, made a clumsy grab to reclaim his cup. Unfortunately, alcohol had stolen most of his balance, so he ended up sprawled across Shinji's lap. Part of Shinji thought that was a very good place for Oishi and the same part compelled him to reach out and pat Oishi's bottom, which he did ... and was immediately aghast that he had just felt up Oishi-san... but it was a very nice bottom none the less...
Shinji held the cup out of reach and reiterated his 'no'.
Oishi blinked in surprised at being groped. His face turned a brilliant red and he tried to push himself out of Shinji's lap, but instead ended up putting his hands in some very interesting places.
Now it was Shinji's turn to go red as he squirmed a little under Oishi. "I don't think you should be touching someone there, Oishi-san, or they might want to go out with you ... except I already want to go out with you ... and you have a very nice ass ... oh wait, I didn't mean to say that, I'm sorry Oishi-san."
The way the person was rambling actually registered. "Shinji-kun?" he whispered softly, turning over so he could see the mortal's face. "Is it you?"
Oishi burst into tears, wrapping his arms around Shinji's neck and pulling him over for a hug, which result in Shinji being awkwardly folded in half. "You're OKAY!" he said triumphantly. The rest of the bar paid them no mind, except for one pair of women who looked at the handsome men in appreciation.
Shinji startled, but the arms around his neck felt really, really nice and with his nose buried in Oishi's shoulder, he could smell liquor and Oishi (a very bright, fresh scent for someone who was drunk in a bar). "Of course I'm okay," he mumbled, "Did you think he was going to eat me ... well, okay, he ate me a little, but it was a really nice eating and the twins were so much fun together in bed but I was bored and they were caught up in each other, so I left ... "
"Twins?" Oishi echoed, totally disoriented.
"Uh? Oh, yeah ... there were these two boys who were twins and we were all in bed together. All those stories about twins were so right, even if they were a little fixated ... "
Oishi tried to cover his ears, but his hands ended up rubbing across Shinji's stomach in the process. Oishi blushed again, but he was so comfortable that moving didn't seem like an option.
Shinji flushed and squirmed a little. Oishi was putting him in a very uncomfortable position on the one hand, and a very nice one on the other ...
"Um... maybe I should go..." Oishi said, struggling to sit up.
"Go where?"
"Um..." Good point. He really didn't want to see Tezuka. "Um..."
Shinji flushed again and took a deep breath, "Youcancometomyplace," he said in one fast sentence, ignoring the fact that he shared his dorm room with Kamio.
"That's really kind of you," Oishi said with a happy smile. He dug some money out of his pocket and threw it on the table to cover the bill.
Shinji couldn't believe it, it was beyond his ability to comprehend that Oishi, Oishi, had just agreed to come home with him. He staggered to his feet only barely, an arm looping its way around Oishi's waist.
Oishi leaned into Shinji's side as they stumbled to the university. The other man was the perfect height for support, though he did seem to have problems going straight. Or was that Oishi's fault? He couldn't tell.
Whew, Oishi was heavier than he looked! Though Shinji couldn't complain about the way he was leaning on him or where he was allowed to put his hands ... Shinji was smiling an altogether silly smile by the time they had made it past the dorm elevator and into his room, where miraculously Kamio was absent. Shinji idly thought he might be out with the Tachibanas ... there had been some business about Mizuki and Yuuta's death, right?
Oishi looked around the cramped dorm room, noting that two distinct personalities lived there. One side was meticulously clean; the other was haphazard and rushed, with books and CDs scattered carelessly. To his surprise, Shinji moved him over to the cleaner side.
Lacking a couch or chair suitable to dump a drunk person on, Shinji was ever so happy to dump Oishi onto the bed instead and then plunk down beside him.
The bed was clean, and Oishi lay back, noting with interest that the room was still moving even though he was still. "Can you... not move?" he asked Shinji as the bed bounced slightly under his weight as Shinji shifted into a comfortable position.
Shinji squirmed a little closer so he could (delicately) loop an arm around Oishi's stomach before stilling, "Is your head spinning, Oishi-san?" It was possible, he had found Oishi drinking (of all things!) in a bar.
"No, but the room is. Can you make it stop?" Oishi asked rather pathetically.
"It'll be better if you close your eyes?"
Oishi would have nodded, but that would have made everything shake even more. Instead he leaned back so his head was propped on Shinji's thigh. "Better," he announced after a minute. Shinji was so warm...
Shinji was feeling that thrill of victory that men feel when they've managed not only to get a chick drunk, but get her into the back of their pickup for a quick shagging. Except Oishi wasn't a chick and they were actually on a bed, but the thrill was still the same. "Good." He ran his hand over the short, stubby hair on Oishi's head, pleased with the feel of it.
Oishi nearly purred. Shinji was so relaxing... Turning slightly he snuggled in closer.
Shinji grinned at the wall. He was snuggling with Oishi! Victory was his! He slid a bit closer, moving his hands down Oishi's back instead.
It was a sign of how intoxicated Oishi was that he raised a hand to stroke Shinji's cheek with affection. Before he knew it, a pair of lips brushed across his forehead... and since it was only fair, he inched up slightly to pull Shinji's head down for a real kiss.
A simple kiss turned easily complicated with the addition of tongue, and then it wasn't fair just to have kissed only lips when there were other parts of the body needing attention, and then there were clothes in the way ...
Of all the archangel's offices, Yukimura's was the most comforting. In the corner burned a warming fire, crackling merrily with reassurance. The wood was a warm cherry, set on plush rugs that beckoned for people to take of their shoes and sink their feet in. Most of the furniture was comfortably overstuffed, with blankets thrown around. On the walls hung pictures of Yukimura's dearest people, with Sanada appearing in more than half. Sengoku and even Atobe also made appearances, and there was one lone shot Tezuka, looking at bit put out over being pictured.
Hiyoshi sighed as he felt the imminent arrival of his boss. Yukimura always gave him a minute's notice so the necessary preparations could be made. He stepped into the next room, grabbing a pair of ovenmitts so he could pull a tray of chocolate chips out of the oven. It was tradition; all comers to Yukimura's domain were immediately offered fresh cookies and tea, or even hot chocolate if they preferred. It was a bit trying for Hiyoshi, since he was the one stuck doing the baking.
The doorbell rang, and Hiyoshi set the tray on a cooling rack, hastening to answer. When he opened the door, he winced a little when he saw who was standing beside Yukimura. However, he was required to show perfect courtesy, so he forced a smile to his face, one which looked more like a grimace. "Welcome home, Yukimura-san. Would your guest like to join us for a snack?" he practically growled.
"Hiyoshi-kun!" Sengoku caroled, taking the message on Hiyoshi's apron as a direct order as he pounced upon and planted a big fat smooch on the side of Hiyoshi's cheek. He'd long ago learned that going for the lips ended up in him getting bit.
Hiyoshi flushed as he realized he'd forgotten to take off the "Kiss the Cook" apron. Stepping to the side (and in the process stepping on Sengoku's foot), he motioned for Sengoku and Yukimura to come in. "I'll bring in cookies and tea," he said.
Yukimura smiled at him. "That would be wonderful, Wakashi-kun."
While Hiyoshi was getting the cookies, Sengoku found a chair with the proper amount of sprawling plush and enough pillow to throw if the opportunity arose to throw pillows, and settled down. A glance at the walls reminded him that the Tezuka picture was still his favorite, since it had captured the Tezuka that Sengoku happened to be most acquainted with -- the put-out one.
Yukimura declined the cookies, but took a cup of green tea. "Wakashi-kun, could you go get me some parchment? I think I have an ink jar and brush in here..."
"Second drawer on the right," Hiyoshi announced, looking puzzled. It wasn't time for Yukimura to be sending any thank-you cards, and he usually used a fountain pen for everything else. He headed to the storage closet to get the requested goods.
"I still think we should have just bought the cheap Hallmark rip-offs from Wal-Mart," Sengoku commented around a mouthful of cookie. A person didn't pass up Hiyoshi's divine baking. Ever. No way. It was like, the only reason to visit Yukimura.
"We need to do this right. We don't want to have to have to throw the results out on a technicality."
Sengoku rolled his eyes. Like the technicality would actually matter if he won ... while it would be ever so useful if Kirihara won.
Hiyoshi, ever efficient, returned in a second carrying two parchment scrolls, along with a chunk of sealing wax. He placed them both on the desk. "Your seal is in your top drawer, in case you need it," he said, before darting out the door. He really didn't want to hang around Sengoku anymore than he had to.
Yukimura watched him depart with amusement and fondness. "He's forever anticipating me." Digging into his desk, he produced the ink and brush. "Your handwriting is rather poor, so I'll write."
"Just because I like to put the little squiggles between every other letter does not mean my handwriting is poor," Sengoku replied with faux affront.
Yukimura merely opened the bottle, not surprised that it was still good despite not using it in a decade. Hiyoshi was always on top of things. He dipped the brush in, and smiled. "Any idea what you want this to say?"
Sengoku tipped his head to the side as he considered it, "Dear Kirihara, meet me at out math class for a smack-down, drag-out fight. Love, Sengoku. PS: Your ass is mine. PPS: I laugh at your ability to show up on time."
Yukimura sighed and began to write. "To Kirihara Akaya, formally known as Satan, and currently Lord of Hell: I, Sengoku Kiyosumi, archangel of heaven, hereby challenge you to a duel for the Lordship of Hell as of the 10 a.m., tomorrow. I will be waiting for you in math class. Let the victor claim the spoils of his efforts," he said as he scribbled.
"I suppose that keeps the spirit of my message." Yukimura sucked all the joy out of writing correspondence.
"Come over here and sign this," Yukimura ordered. "Do not accentuate your signature with any kind of smiley face, doodle or colored ink. Do not add a P.S. Just place your legal signature."
Sengoku managed to look incredibly put-upon. "Do I have to write the whole thing or can I just write the basic part?"
"Kiyosumi."
"Fine, fine," Sengoku gave up and came over to take up the brush, very carefully inscribing his legal signature. It took over three feet of the roll and Sengoku made sure to whimper pathetically during the entire trial of the unwieldy thing.
Yukimura shook his head in amusement as Sengoku finally stopped whimpering. Glancing over the parchment, he was satisfied it would work. "We'll just need a second for the ink to dry." He took another sip of tea. "Are you sure this is what you want to do?" Yukimura fully planned on making Sengoku go through with it either way, but it would be nice to hear his thoughts.
"Does it matter if I want to or not?" Sengoku asked, escaping the proximity of the formal note to flop back on his chosen chair. "It'll work."
"It'd better. If Kirihara somehow manages to win..." Yukimura trailed off. The thought gave him a headache, one which could only be soothed by a judicious amount of chocolate. He levitated the plate of cookies over and grabbed the largest one, biting down on it forcefully.
"He won't," if there was anything Sengoku had confidence in, it was his ability to be incredibly dubious.
Yukimura touched the ink carefully to test it, then rolled the scroll. He took the lump of wax and held it out to Sengoku.
Sengoku accepted the wax and snapped his fingers to create a flame, holding it beneath the end of the wax until it dribbled to his satisfaction. He upended it onto the scroll before setting it aside, leaning in to press his lips to the melted wax, smoke rising at the meeting. He pulled back and handed the scroll back to Yukimura, content in the knowledge that his seal, nearly as elaborate as his signature, had been properly affixed.
With a snap of his power, Yukimura summoned Hiyoshi, who wore a scowl as he re-entered the room. "I have something I need you to deliver," he said.
"What?"
"Go to hell and give this to Kabaji Munehiro. I think he's still Kirihara's secretary," Yukimura said, proffering the scroll.
Hiyoshi stared at it with distaste, but accepted it. "Anything else?"
"I'd love it if you picked up some Belgian chocolates on your way back, please?"
Hiyoshi nodded jerkily, vanishing before Sengoku could chime in.
"He never lets me get a word in edgewise," Sengoku mused with a grin.
"Probably because he knows you." Yukimura studied Sengoku with a pensive expression. "I feel like I should wish you luck or something, but..." he hesitated. "I've rather enjoyed having you work with me. I'll miss you."
Sengoku waved a hand and flashed a grin, "Neh, I'll be back before you know it."
Yukimura looked at the warm green eyes, dreading how Sengoku would be the next time they met. An evil Sengoku wasn't anything he'd ever wanted to see again, but it seemed like they'd been left with no choice.
It was a bright, sunny day outside, but once again Sakaki Tarou's math class was indoors, exploring the wonders of numbers.
The class seemed a bit depleted. Yuuta's absence was obvious, but Sengoku and Kirihara had been missing ever since that day, earning an automatic failing mark. It worried Tachibana, since when he'd tried to track down Kirihara's information, he'd run into numerous dead ends. There apparently was no student named Kirihara Akaya enrolled, although he had a dorm and was on the class rosters. No medical records, no transcript, nothing. On a hunch, he'd checked out Sengoku's folders and found a similar lapse in knowledge. The emergency phone number Kirihara had given to Sakaki had actually been a sex line, and Sengoku's had led to a furniture store.
It made him wonder, just a bit, if Mizuki might have been telling the truth.
Mizuki was present, but was lacking his usual gay flair, which had been replaced with a frenetic focus to complete the class. Unknown to the rest of them, he intended to not only finish college with perfect grades, but to use his knowledge to track Kirihara and get rid of him.
While Mizuki had thrown himself into his studies, Saeki still dabbled enough to keep up with him, now ever watching him from a distance to find out what he was doing, what he was up to, and to hide any evidence he happened to leave behind.
Kamio, the last member of their dysfunctional study group, was actually worried by Mizuki's sudden fervor. He'd always wanted his partners to work, but he found he missed the flamboyant gayness of the other man, missed his and Saeki's bickering, even missed Sengoku and Kirihara's snipes. Most of all, he missed Yuuta, with his naivete that belied a kind soul.
Sengoku popped out of the shadows by the door (making it look like he had possibly used the door, but did no such thing) and crept commando style across the back of the room, oozed down the aisle, and slipped into his seat, putting his feet up on the back of Yuuta's empty seat. It was class time, so he caused a notebook to come into existence and started scribbling.
It only took a moment for Tachibana to notice him. Sakaki probably did as well, but it would take an Apocalypse to stop him from teaching.
It's a pity that was what was about to be discussed.
Tachibana raised an eyebrow from the chair on the side he was sitting in. With a slight sigh, he rose to his feet and moved through the class, intending on pulling Sengoku aside and discussing exactly what his status was.
Sengoku saw him coming and gave him a wave. It didn't take a genius to realize that one of many possible reasons (not the least of which was accessory to murder and missing class -- the second being the more mortal crime) compelled Tachibana to approach.
Tachibana placed a gentle hand on Sengoku's shoulder, jerking his head slightly to indicate that he wanted Sengoku to follow. Giving up the human right to wait in a quiet manner, Sengoku shrugged, dropped the notebook on the seat and stood to follow him, shoving his hands into his pockets.
"Sengoku-san, I'm sorry, but you've recorded six absences. I'm afraid that Sakaki-sensei has already removed you from the class list."
Sengoku gave Tachibana his most mournful eyes. "Aww, and it was such a fun class too."
From most students, Tachibana would have thought it was heavy sarcasm, but Sengoku has always taken a peculiar like to the work. "You can always re-matriculate next semester. If you need it for a core requirement, I'd like to suggest you do so, instead of waiting."
Math was a balance of equations and Sengoku was the master of all things balance-able, so they were comfortable with one another. "I may just do that ... " Sengoku answered, tipping his head slightly to the side. There was always the business of watching Tachibana after all, no matter the outcome of the day.
Tachibana smiled at him gently. "You can still survey this class right now, if you want, but it might be-"
"BOOM!"
The entire class braced themselves as the room shook. In the front, Sakaki managed to catch the podium to support himself, but Tachibana, who'd been standing, went sprawling. He hit the floor hard, then rolled down the stairs a bit before coming to a stop right beside Kamio.
Sengoku rocked on his heels and looked around for the obvious perpetrator.
Kirihara ignored all rules and materialized in front of the room in a flash of fire. "Oops, am I late for class?" he asked sweetly.
"Did you have to wait until I was getting my ass chewed for absences? Can't you ever wait your turn?" Sengoku replied while shaking a fist.
"I've never been very good at the patience thing," Kirihara said, glancing around with a bit of interest. The place looked different through his heightened powers, and he immediately settled on Tachibana. "You know, you had me going about Shinji being a focus. Now..." he walked up the aisle to where Tachibana watched, clutching his knee in pain.
"What can I say? Misdirection is my forte," Sengoku replied with a shrug, making a rippling motion with his hand. The earth responded in kind as the steps rippled, sliding Tachibana back up to Sengoku in one smooth roll.
Sakaki finally found his voice. "Just what do you delinquents think you're up to?" he demanded, coming around from behind his podium. "You're no longer members of this class-"
Kirihara smiled, and suddenly Sakaki was a pillar of flame. His screams rang out for a long minute before the flames finished, leaving a pile of ash in its wake. "Ahhh, so satisfying!" he announced.
"Argh, stop doing that," Sengoku snapped, making the air crackle, "The mortals are off limits!"
"I've never had limits," Kirihara replied.
The class was watching in stunned horror, and Kamio started to inch toward the door. He had no clue what was going on, but he could tell from the flames in Kirihara's eyes that he was in way over his head.
Mizuki stared at Kirihara with pure hatred in his eyes and announced in a huff, "I told you all he killed Yuuta-kun!" His resolve to eliminate the demon faltered in the face of that much power, though.
Saeki nearly jerked, lunging forward to slap a hand over Mizuki's mouth to keep him from saying anything inflammatory that might make Kirihara decide to make Mizuki inflammatory.
Kirihara turned to look at Mizuki, raising an eyebrow. "You have something you want to say?" he asked.
Mizuki did, but Saeki was kind of cutting of his air as he nearly strangled him to keep him quiet. "Not a thing," Saeki managed to say with something resembling his usual aplomb.
"Always knew you were a smart one," Kirihara said approvingly.
"I think he wanted to say that you're a rat bastard for killing his lover and he wishes you would die?" Sengoku filled it helpfully, mainly to bring Kirihara's attention back to himself.
"You're going to be the one dying," Kirihara returned. "I finally remembered exactly why I despise you." His hands clenched at his sides, and power flared around him dangerously. For Saeki, who was mildly psychic, it must have been like staring at a supernova. For the others, there was the sense of electricity racing through the air.
Sengoku wagged his finger. "Tsk, tsk, we should do this in the proper forms to preserve all that gobbledy gook known as tradition. Here, I'll even start first." Sengoku placed his hand over his heart for the hell of it, "I, Sengoku Kiyosumi, archangel of heaven, also known as Lucifer, the Serpent, the Dragon, the Damner of All Mankind," Tiamat, the Midgard Serpent, Quetzalcoatl, Sobek, and a thousand other names in a thousand other ancient tales, "challenge you, Kirihara Akaya, for the throne of hell." It was a very comfy recliner and he happened to want it back since he'd had to ditch it on his ascension to heaven. Sengoku chose not to manifest, however, in defiance of the traditions. Being first, fairest, and brightest had the unfortunate side affect of blinding poor mortal eyes.
Saeki blinked when Sengoku showed no manifestation of any power whatsoever, though he secretly wondered (by the audacity of Sengoku's identity claim alone) if he had picked the wrong side in hooking up with Fuji. He also let go of poor Mizuki as he realized he was almost killing him.
The power of the ritual started to wrap around them both, and Kirihara licked his lips before letting out a laugh. "I, Kirihara Akaya, who was Satan, and am current Lord of Hell, accept. As the challenged, I set the end point as death," he said. "As for the game... we'll use this class."
"Poor math class, you're going to put them into therapy for years."
"They won't survive either way." Clapping his hands sharply, Kirihara turned to stare at the students. "Listen, you chumps. Today's your Judgement Day."