"Cold iron...hey Moto, look here, it says that cold iron could help." Matsuda gently paged through the slightly worn book on his desk. "Something something lingering spirits, darkness, yin energy, whatever. We can punch ghosts with it."

"Iron is usually cold, what makes it special?" Motohama looked up from the sheaf of papers he was rifling through. Matsuda ruffled his hair, and went back a page. "Cold iron is...just unrefined apparently?" He said, somewhat perplexed.

Motohama snorted. "That's a distinction to make."

"What've you got." Matsuda snapped. Motohama pushed up his glasses, and drew out a page triumphantly, ignoring the papercut it gave him when he whipped it out of the bundle. "Shinrei Tantei Akechi⭐️kun here says that salt is invaluable for ghostly combat."

A beat.

"What else?"

"That's it."

"You fucking-"

Issei sighed. Loud and melancholy, dripping with the weight of a full day or two of introspection, the sound carried for a full twenty feet. Discussion paused respectfully to let it pass, before resuming.

"So, I'm thinking a used butcher knife or something would fit." Matsuda said conversationally. "Bloodied cold iron and all that. Blood + Cold iron, sounds like an upgrade, right?"

"You think? Maybe. Though monsters hating blood sounds off to me." Motohama frowned. "The dreamcatcher didn't work, so whatever it is isn't a tapir or a nightmare or something. You think fairy?"

Matsuda shrugged. "Sure, whatever. Iron works on a lot of things apparently. As long as we hit it, it'll feel it. Grandpa down by the udon place apparently does his own work with the pork. You think he'd loan us the chopper?"

"We eat there often enough." Motohama grumbled. "But I mean, there's always fire. Easier to hide than a bloody knife, I think."

"Man, I don't want to set my house on fire, we just got it bac-"

Issei sighed. The weight of generations pressed down on everyone near enough to hear it pass. Conversation grew strained as atmosphere grew briefly dreary.

"So, I hear dumbasses die quickly." Motohama said.

"Google-san tells me that hiding a body is easy in a classroom." Matsuda posited. "For no reason."

Issei slowly raised his head. "Wow, I just remembered that rowan wood is real good for scaring away bad luck."

"Is it." Motohama's voice was so dry it crackled. Issei coughed a bit and looked away, fighting back another sigh.

"Look Issei, you don't need to help if it bothers you that much, man."

Issei frowned, snapping back to look at Motohama. "What?"

Motohama's eyes flickered down to Issei, sprawled across his desk. Issei looked straight back. Motohama's dark pupils flicked back up to Issei, wills clashing, daring the other to say something about it.

Matsuda stood up from his desk, and began to circle the two, walking around and around the desks. The other two boys refused to look at him, focusing on their peripheral vision to the point of pain, but refusing to break eyes. Matsuda grinned, and kept circling until he stopped beside Issei with a satisfied look on his face. Leaning down, his chin was nearly touching Issei's shoulder.

"Issei, you look stupid." He confided. "Are you constipated?"

Issei burst into snickers, breaking stares and immediately cursed audibly. Sighing, he straightened up, pulling his arms back across from the desk to curl against his chest. He couldn't be bothered to shoot Motohama a look, the prick would only look even smugger than he did now. "No, no, it's not like that. I'm just..." He slid his hands across his face. "...a little tired, I guess."

"You looked like someone sucked your soul out man." Motohama peered at him, light shining off his large round frames. The shit-eating grin made lie of any concern Issei could have possibly believed the boy felt. "Who soured your cheerios?"

Issei grumbled, arms crossed.

The two looked down at Issei, unbudged. Motohama caught a jerk of Matsuda's chin, and shrugged. A second, more forceful jerk saw the shorter boy roll his eyes and lean in closer to Issei. "Kiba." Motohama whispered.

Issei's shoulder twitched. Motohama's lips quirked, looking at this dim little child trying to hide information from his transcendent vision. How stupid. How foolish. How pointless! With these glasses, he could catch a skirt fluttering in a crowd at 40 paces! This slug stood no chance!

Issei groaned into his crossed arms. "You heard already?"

Motohama puffed himself proudly. "Not at all! There's no one else in this school willing to speak to me at all, after all! I just saw you probably trying to pay an upperclassman from the regional college nearby to beat him up. And fail! I think. I was too far to hear you speak, but that's totally what I would do."

Matsuda shot him the finger guns, and Motohama replied in kind. Issei groaned, lifting his head out if his hands. "You're an idiot."

"Then explain!" Matsuda demanded.

Issei looked around for an excuse to do literally anything else, but it was lunchtime, and the classroom had cleared out for the most part. The few people left were the one or two other males in their class, the kids too coward to stand out, and a few groups closer to the front of the room.

Issei sighed, and lowered his voice.

"I was totally asking that guy to beat up Kiba."

The other two looked deep into Issei's eyes.

"What are you, four?"

Issei had mixed feelings about this.

Kiba was someone Issei loathed - and perhaps on long nights, he could admit - deeply wished to be. Popular, friendly, and even...with that sort of easygoing calm he had. It wasn't fair.

Protect, how fucking dare he.

Thus, it was up to Issei to even the scales. If Kiba couldn't even protect himself, then anything that followed was just hype and bluff. But Issei put someone low odds on being able to do it himself. Lo and behold, some idiot with a grudge stumbled by, and Issei just pointed him in the right direction. God willed it, and who was he to resist?

"But he lost!" Issei cried. "What a loser! Idiot! Dumbass!"

"Easy come, easy go." Motohama shrugged. "You get what you pay for man, and this one was free."

"I just - one punch." Issei slammed his fist into his palm with a wet-sounding slap. Matsuda looked unimpressed. "One punch to Kiba's schnoz, and it's good. I can show that real-lifer the grudge I can bear!"

"Just do it." Motohama said. "Go fuckin'...I dunno, back me here man."

"Solve him!" Matsuda said confidently. Motohama waved his hands in frustration. "No moron, I meant like...feel better. About himself. Violently."

Issei sighed. "I feel like that isn't really the point of beating someone up."

"Who cares?" Motohama shrugged. "You feel better, he gets one over you when he inevitably kicks your ass, though the bar is low enough there that I wouldn't say there's much to feel good about-"

"Man, fuck you." Issei complained.

But Issei appreciated the support - such as it was - anyway. Perhaps it was odd, but he knew the other two understood him.

Maybe that wasn't a good thing, actually. Matsuda read shoujo doujin on occasion, after all, and that was just shameful. But hey, any port in a storm right?

Matsuda abruptly kicked Issei's seat.

"WHY?!"

"You think I can't hear you thinking rude thoughts, asshole?!"

Bullshit. This bitch couldn't hear Katase locking them in the storage shed this morning while they were trying to get at the peephole, but he could tell when people were thinking rude thoughts?! Lies! If he could, he would've moved to a different school and started over with a perm and a better attitude!

Issei kicked back his seat and forced himself to his feet. Hobbling away, he turned and gave the two the bird. "Y'all suck anyway!"

"Eat shit!"

"I hope the fangirls kill you!"

Assholes

Issei grumbled and stumped off, sliding the door open and moving quickly down the hallway before Kiryuu spotted him and started another shitfight. It was a bright enough day that she could spot him from down the hall, so when a large crowd passed by where he'd been waiting just outside the classroom door, he made sure he was following close behind as they continued to the next room over. They'd be great cover, with their piercings and shiny additions to their uniforms!

Ah, but he'd forgotten he didn't blend in with them at all. Everyone noticed him.

The school was busy at this time of day; busy enough that the hostile, entirely unjustified looks he was receiving were simply beyond the pale. How unfair! He hadn't even flipped their skirts as he passed, what had he done to deserve this degree of antipathy?!

That's right, nothing!

But they were scary and some of those girls totally did cross country because they had calves thicker than his neck, so he was just gonna keep his head down and keep walking. Maybe the glares would go away the closer he got to Kiba?

Yes, yes they did.

Somehow, that was less comforting than he'd hoped.

Nowhe was the one glaring, as Kiba made sure to call out ev-ery-one by name, class, and in order of social status. The audience appreciated his magnanimity while also respecting his social awareness, and informed him as such through auditory hallucination delivered orally. Issei himself was picking up on some of this, and perhaps wished he understood a little less as Kiba continued his little one-man performance. He could only contain so much homicidal resentment, after all.

And yet, eventually the bell rang, and people slowly filtered into the classroom, Kiba gently waving off people that he was evidently comfortable with as they passed on their way in. But the two found themselves eventually alone in the hallway.

Kiba finally seemed to notice him, turning with a puzzled smile on his face. Issei slowly leaned further back against the wall, as they faced each other in the afternoon light.

The sound of cicadas outside broke the uncomfortable silence. Suddenly, Issei realized that assaulting someone in school would probably get him suspended, and also Kiba was looking at him and this was harder than he thought.

Also Kiba was taller than him. That just was not fair.

"Yes, Hyoudou-san?" Kiba prompted gently.

"I...what's the big occasion?"

Kiba blinked. "What?"

"The..the crowd." Issei waved his hand lazily at the floor. "The...you know."

"That's normal Hyoudou-san." The boy's face smoothed into a politely pleased expression. Issei noted that he seemed comfortable in it. "Do people not come to welcome you to school?"

"Of course they do." Issei said instantly.

"Without shinai."

"Yes."

Kiba thought for a second. "...without pool nets."

Shit. "No."

Issei caught the glimmer of victory in the other boy's eye before it was quashed by a hint of shame. How rude. Issei felt himself glare a little. Kiba looked abashed, coughing a little. "Is there something you wanted Hyoudou-san." He said patiently.

Thinkthinkthinkthinkthinkthinkthinkthinkthinkthinkthinkthinkthink

He'd been sucked into Kiba's pace, and now he was floundering. Shit this was awkward.

"Ghosts." Issei blurted.

Kiba blinked. "What?"

"You uh," oh shit this was going places, "You looked...down on Mr. Sellzen, right?"

"Um." Kiba's brow was furrowing. "I don't believe I expressed such a-"

"But! You'd said you'd heard a great deal about his work!"

The look of polite disbelief and growing consternation on Kiba's face gave Issei strength.

"So do you know any exorcists?" Issei rushed out.

"..." Kiba stared at him mutely.

"You chased away the one I was talking to." Issei said defensively.

Kiba's hand slowly drifted to his pocket, and he went to pull something out, a blank look on his face. Issei flinched back from his expression, squeezing his eyes shut. A gun?! A knife?! Issei knew the blonde hair was natural! Kiba was a foreigner! He was a spy! An assassin! A mafioso! He was going to silence Issei for knowing exactly how much of a shitlord he was!

Or more likely pull out a recording mic and laugh at him.

The latter was scarier.

Instead, something cloth-y smacked Issei in the face. He opened his eyes, and a little ofuda fell into his hands.

"I'm friends with a Miko." Kiba said shortly, withdrawing his arm. "That's blessed. It'll help. If you're haunted or something."

Friends with a miko...? Issei hadn't even met one before...hadn't even known there were any his age around...

He didn't even...

Ah, how detestable this boy was!

Issei's lip curled, and he pocketed the little bit of paper and cloth. "Just carry it around?"

Kiba hesitated, and perhaps a hint of regret flashed across his face? Issei's hand curled around the Ofuda protectively. So this was something important, hmm? Sucks to suck idiot! Like hell Issei was gonna give it back!.

Man, where had his grudge gone? Shit, he'd wanted to kick Kiba's ass a few days ago, but now he was just...

Kiba slowly stilled. "Make a wish." He said carefully. "It's a...blessed talisman, so your prayer will be heard."

Nervous

"Sure Kiba." Issei said slowly, stepping back. "Thanks. For the help. I appreciate it."

"It's fine. That friend of yours already conveyed your appreciation."

Issei trembled a bit.

"Who?"

"Ah, that upperclassman." Kiba's thin eyes curved up. "He was very enthusiastic, but alas, he struggled to get his points across."

"I'm glad you appreciated his attempt at outreach."

"They're usually quite friendly, Hyoudou-san." Kiba said affably.

Should he just deck this asshole? He totes could! Hey, maybe if he hit him in the head hard enough, Kiba would magically forget that they'd had a conversation at all. Because Kiba was totally onto him putting a hit out, and that would almost certainly ruin his chances of being popular. And that would be just unforgivable.

Kiba smiled gently, and Issei went cold from the tips of his toes all the way up, stepping back a bit involuntarily. "Alright. I'll remember to be friendlier next time."

Was it just him, or was there a hint of amusement to Kiba's expression?

"Good...good talk."

He continued stepping back, facing the pale blonde boy who continued to stare at him, until Issei eventually turned around and booked it.

Goddamn those green eyes were creepy. Issei had confirmed it however - Yuuto Kiba had a secret. Something big.

Something scary his mind whispered.

Issei never noticed the ofuda winking red in his pocket. Kiba's eyes glowed a little in the sunlight, fixed as they were on the retreating boy's back.

"The hell is that?" Matsuda questioned, as Issei walked back into the room with the ofuda twirling by its little string draw around his finger.
"Your ritual offering." Issei said firmly. "Burn this shit and use the ashes. It's a proper shrine ofuda. It might also be cursed, but I'm sure that'll only make the ashes more effective."

"You were paying attention!" Matsuda clapped his hands together and hurled the book to the side, narrowly missing sending it flying out of the room. "Heavens be praised. Where the fuck did you get it?"

"I-er borrowed it from a shrine miko."

"You even came prepared." Motohama looked impressed. "Did you land the hit?"

Issei refused to meet his eyes. "Yeah. Uh. He said I was so weak it wasn't worth reporting me."

"Wow, what a prick." Matsuda raised a brow. "You gotta work those arms out more man, that's just sad."

"Fuck off." He tossed the ofuda up, and Matsuda snagged it. "Stop talking shit, and go smoke out some ghoulies. Who starts?"

Motohama looked at Matsuda.

"Me."

"Why?!" Matsuda cried.

"It's closer."

Matsuda snapped his fingers in frustration. Had him there. Motohama threw up his hands in victory.