Issei slowly shut his mouth, straightening up and pacing a bit. Yes, he was existentially terrified of the potential ramifications of devils both existing and appearing like XL sock burrs in people's homes. But more than that, he was super curious!

"Are we on Satan's watchlist now?" Issei blurted out. "Are we bad people? Can we still go to heaven?!"

"Yes, yes, and yes." Kiba said patiently, tail expressing otherwise as it thrashed madly behind him. "All very important things, Hyoudou-san, I know, but we are in danger."

Motohama was making a high keening noise from somewhere behind them, but Issei didn't really have any mind to pay attention to him. His mind was currently washing out to sea, drifting off on that great tributary of the mind, that great sea of Arabia that flowed and wound through his thoughts like a hissing serpent squeezing the sides of his head and pouring the juice out into the earth where it pooled into lake after lake, washing into that river of Denial that poured down the back of his eyes and flowed out of his mouth as "Buuuuullsssshiiiiiiiittttttttt."

Kiba's brows wrinkled a little. "What?"

"Kiba." Issei stared him dead in the eyes. "You just jack-in-the-boxed out of a paper on the floor. What the fuck are you on about?!"

"I'm a devil." He responded promptly, lips quirking. "Not God. You are still in danger, you know."

"How can you possibly know that?"

"Because I know what they were here for, and why they chased off Motohama-san's family." Kiba narrowed his eyes. "You did say that your ghost only showed up today, by it's own admission, yes?"

"I mean, yeah?"

Kiba's satisfied look irritated Issei to no end, whether it was because of Kiba's smug confirmation that they were all hypothetically in danger, or the fact that he just hated seeing Kiba happy, he couldn't say.

'That isn't an answer!' Issei wanted to scream, but Matsuda was louder.

"Moto- Moto? Motohama?" Matsuda said from behind Issei, voice a little quavery. "Dude, you okay?"

"Taillllll." Motohama whispered, wide-eyed look fixed on Kiba's spare appendage as it serpentined idly in the air. Kiba, to his credit, looked somewhat embarrassed by the open shock.

Matsuda turned back to Kiba. "Look what you did!" He cried. "Moto-chan can't handle this! He's a delicate highschool boy, you know! Take responsibility!"

"I'm sorry." Kiba calmly folded his arms. "I refuse."

"Tail." Motohama mumbled, a little teary.

"You need to get past it Motohama-san."

Undaunted, the blonde boy stood among them, simultaneously one of so many normal students, and yet so much more. It was a testament to how frayed they all were, that Issei could look at him, and keep his priorities straight.

"Did you replace your spine with a furry worm or something?" Issei demanded. "I want to touch it."

Kiba whipped his tail back, a faintly scandalized expression crossing his face. "No!"

Now that was rude. How rude. Issei was almost hurt, if he hadn't already had no expectations for Kiba having manners at all. How dare he whip a tail around and not let people touch it. That was a fucked up thing to do.

"Can I get a tail?" Motohama asked weakly.

Kiba paused. "Tech..." He said reluctantly. Then, something flashed behind his eyes, and he grew thoughtful. A few seconds of silence passed, Motohama shifting slightly uncomfortably, before Kiba answered.

"Nope."

Issei blinked. "You changed your answer." He accused, pointing at Kiba's face. "You were gonna say 'technically', you totally were."

Kiba slapped Issei's hand aside. "I was not." He had the gall to look affronted, and Issei felt furiously justified in hurling some bit of garbage on the floor at him

He missed, because of course he did.

"You're so full of shit!" Matsuda hissed, joining in the makeshift stoning with a tiny piece of ceramic. "Why're you such a liar, huh Kiba?!"

"I'm not." His tail thrashed violently, implicit threat in it's movement as he swayed out of the way of some dirty pottery.

The floor seemed to chill underfoot, a subtle menace undercut by the three boys finally realizing how stupid Kiba's tail looked pushing the back of his shirt up.

Kiba sighed in irritation as they continued staring at the black tail. Suddenly, it seemed to wind backwards, vanishing...somewhere. They blinked, and it was like he was the same stupid Kiba that they were used to.

Somehow, this was even worse. At least Devil Kiba had something cool going for him.

"Now, we need to get going. These questions are eating up the time we have to escape," Kiba continued blithely, ignoring the accusing looks, "I wouldn't have bothered revealing that I'm a devil, unless it was urgent." He seemed slightly piqued by the implicit accusation, glaring a little at Issei. Issei scratched his head in slight embarrassment.

The boy had responded to his call, after all, so it was unfair to believe that Kiba was somehow behind all this. Which meant...

"So we totally can still go to heaven." Issei said, relieved.

"We're in the clear boys." Matsuda announced, turning and high-fiving a shellshocked Motohama. "Our souls are still clear for approach to Harem-land. Issei might be damned though, but that's fine."

"What?!"

"You still summoned the devil." Matsuda pointed out. "It's your responsibility now."

"But I didn't want it!"

"Then you shouldn't have let it follow you home."

Motohama's hand limply slid back down to his side, as he shook like a noodle in a draft. "How do these things keep getting in." He said absently.

"It's the beige." Issei nodded wisely, shooting Matsuda a dirty look. "No sense of hominess at all. People think they can just walk in 'cause it looks like a test house."

Kiba, stalking to the side of the room, traced a finger against the wall. "Things? Rude." He muttered. "But then, you aren't particularly attached to this home, are you Motohama-san?"

There was a brief moment of silence, as Issei and Matsuda paused and snuck a curious peek at a wax-faced Motohama. Motohama shifted uncomfortably, turning away from their looks.

"Regardless." Kiba continued softly. "I suspect our other intruder already has his answer."

Issei blinked, head snapping back the other way. "What?"

Kiba turned to them, patient blue eyes as still as ever, and slowly lifted a finger to his mouth.

The three slowly quieted as they watched Kiba carefully. The boy held his ground, staying very still, and they found themselves unconsciously mimicking him, breathing silently and stiffening their joints. A pall seemed to fall over the home, a tense silence where suddenly the wind became the loudest source of any noise around.

The clatter sounded like a gunshot in the silence; it was so loud that it felt as though the whole street would sit up and take attention.

It echoed once more, a tap, a clatter from some far off source.

"It seems we have run out of time."

Very, very gently, Kiba raised one foot and placed it in front of the other, moving even quieter than the breeze. Issei swallowed softly and followed the boy, pulled by his curiosity and fear behind the infinitely more confident devil, and like on strings, Motohama and Matsuda were dragged helplessly behind. And so, master and puppets moved as one slowly, slowly down the corridor.

"Bedroom." Motohama moaned gently, quickly recognizing where Kiba was leading them. "Why is it always my parent's bedroom. I don't even hide my porn there."

The stairs seemed to grow longer with their pace, every quiet step an age. Issei kept fighting the urge to simply rush up, but Kiba's stern look and the cloak of palpable tension around him held Issei in place, as it did Motohama and Matsuda behind him. So they continued their silent passage up both flights of stairs, and to the bedroom door that still lay silently half-open.

Issei tensed, but Kiba pushed it open casually, stalking inside and pausing in the middle of the room. Issei stepped carefully past him, half looking for the intruder, half making sure the Ghost hadn't returned after failing to sleep with an angel.

There was nothing but pieces of ceramic on the floor, and the window tightly shut with evening sunlight streaming through.

"See?" Issei grinned, slowly relaxing. "Nobody. It was a cat, or something."

Motohama and Matsuda picked their way through behind him, moving broken shards aside and looking distastefully over the wreckage. However, Kiba simply turned, solemn look in his eye, and pointed mutely behind them. Issei's eyes swept past the open door, to the perpendicular master bathroom.

The master bathroom, from where light shone from beneath the door.

Light that flicked off with a silent click.

Unceremoniously, all four boys dove away and slammed into each other, stumbling apart. Kiba recovered quickly, quicker than Issei's swirling vision could catch, diving somewhere around them. Groaning, Issei blindly imitated him and hit the floor. He couldn't make much out, but the space under the bed welcomed him, promising safety for him and all his porn as it had so many times before. He reflexively scooted under it, rolling to the side when Motohama slammed into him trying to get in.

It was evidently a somewhat common reflex.

Eventually, they tumbled in, slightly dizzy, and focused their ears and eyes to catch sight of the intruder.

"Oh shit, we're facing the wrong way." Issei whispered. Motohama quietly groaned in irritation.

The door creaked open behind them, and they struggled to fit closer under the bed, hair prickling on the back of their necks. The sound of leather gently creaking as footfalls echoed near their feet, as the intruder stepped onto the creamy carpet. There, sound paused, and the slow rasp of someone drying their hands was the only sound that anyone could hear. Issei suddenly became aware of his own breathing, and the pounding in his chest, and the itching all over his body.

Issei frantically reached back, to rub the back of his neck, but slammed his elbow into Motohama's face, sending his glasses skittering a bit while he hissed in pain.

The hands paused. They both froze.

"A cat?" Came the quiet murmur, a slightly nasal voice deepening in thought. "Or perhaps they're still in..."

Issei felt like vomiting in sudden fear as his heart shot into his gut.

"Sure am."

So that was where Matsuda was.

Matsuda offered the man his widest grin, as he slowly made out familiar features in the priest standing before him. Slim limbs, large head and thin nose. A mouth like a gash and eyes like aged paper, the priest he'd known as Freed slowly stepped closer into the sunlight with his black clothes whispering against the carpet.

The older man looked at him oddly. "Are you the resident?" He asked cautiously, parchment eyes looking over him.

Matsuda felt the pit of his gut rumble with dislike and indigestion, and allowed his best pleasant smile to rest on his face. Issei and Motohama were below the bed, silent and still, and a near-indiscernible clatter of the closet door revealed a tense Kiba. But Matsuda, himself, was kinda tired of peeking around. He'd had kind of a long day, goddamnit and he was sorta sick of running away. This time Issei didn't need to be the one doing the punching.

His sports haircut was a symbol of his manly pride after all! If he couldn't even be bothered to try, he should grow out his hair like Motohama and resign himself to a life as a tool.

So he stood, staring the odd priest down, game plan on his mind.

Matsuda grinned. "The name's Motohama, by the way."

A muffled sound of indignation widened his smile.

Offhandedly, he looked over the priest, and questioned, "Who the hell are you?"

The priest seemed to stall for a minute. "Erm."

Matsuda took the chance to point at him accusingly. "Why're you in my house? Are you a pervert?!"

Freed blinked. "No. Definitely not."

—

Motohama was somewhat conflicted at this point. On one hand, he wasn't the one sticking his neck out. On the other, Matsuda had given his name, instead of his own.

This was somewhat bad, for a number of reasons, mostly because he was currently banking his safety on Matsuda's ability to carry a bit. Heart hammering in his chest, he felt a hint of fear at the confirmation that whoever the intruder was, he was definitely a pervert.

"I'm here to investigate." Freed said casually. Matsuda blinked, mouth dry, and mentally stumbled. "Eh? Investigate what?"

"I heard something." Freed insisted. "Something from around here. You have, like a cat or something? It was definitely like a squeak. Super loud. There's like a bunch of dangerous animals running around, so I was concerned. Any pets?"

"No." Matsuda said honestly, before he realized what he'd said. "I mean, it wasn't an animal. It's a -" Out of the corner he saw Kiba cover his face, blonde hair sticking up. "A broom! It fell over. A dirty broom." He babbled, feeling the heat rush to his head. "I broom a lot! But it's annoying to keep storing it! I just shove it in the closet!"

"Oh, wow. That's pretty unhygienic man." The priest simpered.

"You're right, I guess I should fix that. Really, I should." Matsuda said, deeply relieved. "Actually, I should fix a couple of things. Why don't I start with who you are and what you're doing here."

"I'm a priest." Freed said with the confidence of a man drowning and choosing to spit in the hand of the lifeguard. Evidently, Matsuda wasn't the only one somewhat lost for words. "It's my civic duty to investigate strange noises and help out my neighbors. Love thy neighbors or something. Bible."

Matsuda immediately caught movement out of the corner of his eye, Motohama and Issei slowly wiggling their way out from under the bedbackwards, feet first. Right into some scattered porcelain. He had to think fast. They needed to subdue Freed, but he wasn't in a position to do that. Freed may be armed, and really, it wasn't like he was scared, but Freed might take his friends hostage or something. Priest his ass, people didn't just wander into random bathrooms.

But that gave him an idea.

"Bible! You must be practicing for an exorcism!" Matsuda clasped his hands together.

"There's an exorcism?" Freed blinked. "I mean, yes. Yes, I'm here for exorcism practice. I heard this area was haunted. With, uh, animals. Animal ghosts."

He wasn't even that wrong.

Matsuda watched the man's hand slowly move away from his pockets with some trepidation. "That's good." Matsuda said, and suddenly coughed violently in shock, as Motohama accidentally kicked some porcelain while trying to struggle out from under the mattress.

"Are you alright?" Freed said, and if he wasn't standing in Motohama's parent's bedroom right now, he might have even seemed believably concerned.

"Totally fine." Matsuda said, rasping, and he quickly realized Freed hadn't heard the porcelain clatter. "It's the dust. I was cleaning this place before the exorcism."

Issei and Motohama had finally crawled out, cramping themselves into little shrimp positions to avoid disturbing more shards as they slowly stood up behind Freed. Neither seemed to recognize him from behind, but they stood up with obvious murderous intent. They moved into slow half crouches behind the priest, and even Kiba slightly slid the closet open for the ambush.

"-sweeping?"

Matsuda blinked, the sudden shock of fear when he realized he'd been staring behind Freed with his breath held, sent his mind a-whirl. "What?"

Freed eyed him suspiciously, which was pretty fucking rich for a maybe-burglar. "Why would you sweep before an exorcism?" He repeated. "Aren't you afraid of being haunted?"

"My porn is more important." Matsuda said absently.

"My man!" Freed said enthusiastically, lighting up like a christmas tree, in a way that made his coat sway open and reveal several sharp metal toolsthat Freed immediately swept back under his coat with a less than casual gesture.

Freed coughed a little.

"I mean, that's sin." He said weakly.

Apparently the fear in Matsuda's eyes was visible to Issei and Matsuda, because instead of proceeding to attack Freed they turned around and crept into the closet where the hell were they going.

"Yes," He said tightly, irritation boiling up his throat beside his fear and acid reflux. "My horrible, degenerate porn. You would not believe what I watch. It's horrible. I have a problem. Several problems, even!"

Freed looked immensely entertained by this admission, amusement sweeping away the caution in his eyes, which was very odd for someone who'd been caught breaking and entering. "Oh really? Please, do tell. I'll absolve you of your sins. Totally."

"Well-"

"I'll kill him." Motohama whispered hoarsely. Beside him, Kiba rolled his eyes and slowly slid past him, giving him and Issei room to move to the far side of the closet, closer to the bedroom door.

"Don't think about it." Issei whispered, unwilling to admit how much he was enjoying Motohama's misery. He slowly curled his fingers around the closet door and slid both doors aside, covering up Kiba once more and allowing them to slip out while Matsuda kept Freed distracted. This side of the two-door closet was next to the bedroom door, so they were out before anyone noticed.

The stairs felt more precarious on the way down, threatening to send them toppling as they quietly moved, and Issei found himself half-sliding down the bannister from how hard he clung to it. Placing feet upon the carpeted floor once more was arelief, and he nearly doubled over as exhaustion hit all at once.

Motohama seemed to feel no such thing, striding quickly over to the kitchen where the knives gleamed on racks over the sink. They'd seen the fear in Matsuda's eyes, and with Kiba and his magic tail watching over him, they'd decided to actually try and get something to defend themselves with. Motohama had already started comparing the blades, but Issei found something else catching his eye. A flashing light, blinking slowly, strobing the already mild shadows in the entrance hall. Curiously, Issei walked closer, following the light through the hall and taking a turn as he found himself slowly approaching the front door. The light grew brighter with every step, and Issei slowly slid down and peeked through the glass.

"Moto..." Came the low call of Issei's whiny voice. Motohama flinched violently, whipping his headaround as the noise echoed through the bottom floor. He felt anger filling him. Hadn't they done this silently to prevent that sketchy weirdo from discovering them? Lord, preserve his patience from morons and fools.

He stalked over, making sure he was walkingquietly and smoothly so that when Issei noticed he'd feel bad about himself, and quickly approached the front door where Issei was crouched. Issei turned to him, and Motohama found himself stopping in his tracks at the somewhat sick expression on Issei's face.

"Moto." Issei croaked. "It's the fucking police."

"Did you hear that?" Freed turned around abruptly. Matsuda curiously looked around him, where the man was looking at the stairs with a focused look.

"No." Matsuda said honestly.

"There was definitely something." Freed insisted, a focused look on his face. "Where have I heard it? It's really familiar..." A siren whooped in the distance quietly, and they froze.

Well now, that was a familiar noise.

Matsuda felt his lower body turn to ice as Freed slowly swivelled back to him, a dark look in his eye. Seemed like the priest wasn't in the mood to hear about his porn anymore, which was a shame; Freed had proven himself a man of taste as well. Instead, Matsuda caught the implicit question in Freed's eyes, and frantically shook his head. Freed seemed to believe him, stepping backwards away, but those eyes never left his as he slowly stepped backwards into the closet and slid it shut.

Matsuda stood there in silence for a minute or two, still staring at where those yellow eyes had vanished, until a sudden rattle of the closet door snapped him out of it.

'Wait, wasn't Kiba hiding there...?'

"Oh, joyous day!"

Yuuto Kiba was in a slightly dangerous position.

Grunting, he hissed a little as the lightsword slid down his blade, threatening to lop off his fingers before he twisted the blade off. Freed retreated not a step back before he ducked forward and swung for Kiba's feet. Sliding to the side, Kiba braced his shoulders against the loose closet door and swung downwards at Freed's open neck

Black

The blow was caught by a flash of light as Freed reignited his blade in a sudden backswing, and once again the two men were deadlocked, gritted teeth shining in the wan light cast by the lightblade.

While Freed may have been pleasant to the kids, he had no such qualms with a known devil it seemed. Kiba had been slightly startled when the man had walked backwards into the closet, but not half as much as Freed had been when he'd turned and spotted Kiba crouching near the floor.

Both daggers gleamed in the light, no more than half a foot long each, but where Freed's dagger glowed like the sun and spat like an arc welder, Kiba's was an almost liquid purple, throbbing and seeming to mute the world around it.

"What a nice present!," The ghastly priest giggled, risking losing a hand to trail his off-hand slowly down the flat of Kiba's blade. Kiba punished it by chopping the hilt down, and Freed pulled his left away with a hiss and a light haze of blood. Angered, the priest seemed to redouble his strength, hands shivering from the force he was putting on them.

"The Assassin's Blade." Kiba grunted, straining to keep up with the priest's mad strength.

"Light and sound suppressant, how cute." Freed mocked, wide smile unmarred by the struggle. "No one outside will notice a thing, I'm glad. But there's a tradeoff, isn't there Yuuto-chan?" Kiba swore explosively under his breath, as all of a sudden the pressure on his blade redoubled. "There allllways is!" The priest crooned quietly, starting to saw his little lightsword violently against Kiba's. The acrid tang of heating steel filled the little closet, and Kiba felt sweat run down his nose.

"I see, I see!" Freed sang. "Not as brave? Eh? Little less resistant to light than before isn't it? Mmh?"

Kiba felt his jaw lock, and allowed his grip on the blade to loosen. Freed immediately swung for his neck as soon as the resistance vanished, like he'd been expecting it. Kiba ducked it smoothly, artificial celerity guiding his movement under and around the hissing bolt, and drove the tip of his blade into Freed's rib

Black

Light sputtered back, Freed grinning as the lightsword he now held in a backhand struggled to stave off the Assasin's blade.

"So it's 'three', is it?" He whispered, and Kiba flinched.

It was less than a dance, what followed, neither boy having the room to move in the tiny closet. It was a very mild two-step, back and forth, as Freed fought to capitalize on Kiba's moment of weakness with repeated strikes to his head. Kiba fought him off, wincing as every blow destroyed his vision with sunbursts even his blade couldn't perfectly consume, until Freed finally found an opening.

A foot slammed into his chest, and Kiba choked, arms too high to block as the foot ground into his ribs.

The blow to his gut left him gasping for air, eyes swimming as the boot crushed his lungs in, pinning him to the wall.

"Still shackled to that God's decree, ah?" The pale boy held his head above Kiba's, looking down on him with those sick eyes as Kiba doubled over and gasped for air.

Freed swung down, but Kiba had his opening. The boy wheezed when Kiba dove forward and shoulder checked him, driving the point of his shoulder deeply into Freed's chest and shoving him back. They tumbled into the far wall, gripping and shoving at each other to try and gain dominance.

Kiba paused on top, head held high and back arched to inhale violently, air rushing color back into his limited vision. He looked down to see Freed madly searching the floor

Freed groped around, finally seizing his lightsword with a malevolent chuckle, but dropped it again when his fingers snapped open with shock. Clenching his teeth, Kiba drove a second blow into Freed's face, this time grinning as Freed's fingers went limp and spittle flew everywhere.

The closet gently rattled again.

Matsuda stared at the door with a dubious look on his face, hand outstretched to push the door open. Slowly, he withdrew his hand, and turned away.

He really didn't need to know.

Instead, he turned away, thinking to walk downstairs and hail the policeman outside, when the window rattled.

He turned slightly, curiously as tiles rattled outside his window.

"Ah?" Came a muffled voice. A grey head of hair poked up the window ledge as Matsuda's disbelieving eyes watched. Slowly, hand over hand, a middle-aged hobo in a trenchcoat climbed up to the portal, pulling the window up and leaning in. "Freed!" The deep voice hissed, a hint of a slur in his tone. "Are you here?" The hobo looked around the room, blocking the sun with his head as he looked around. Then, he caught sight of Matsuda's still form right in front of him.

They both froze, eyeing each other.

"Are you one of the priests too?" The scruffy man asked casually.

"Yes." Matsuda said promptly. "Hail Jesus."

He grunted in satisfaction. "Hail Jesus. Have you seen Freed?"

"Nope."

"Hello officer." Motohama swung the door open quickly, before the man in badge and uniform could ring his bell. The officer looked at him with dark, unimpressed eyes at the haste.

Motohama swallowed. The badge winking at him from the man's chest seemed to see through his soul. What was he here for? The ghost? Were the police aware of ghosts? Did they know about magic? Was the ghost bait? Was it working for them? Was the government aware of ghosts? Of devils? Was he here because of Kiba? Were they monitored, and judged as criminals for consorting with devils?

"There's been a noise complaint." The officer said sternly.

Well then.

"Loud screaming has been heard." The man continued. "What's going on?"

"My name's Matsuda." He said calmly. "And we've been watching scary movies. That's all, officer. I have no life and no job and I hate education, and I'm here to crib off my friends wealth and goodwill.

The officer's eyes hardened to granite. "That's very unfortunate. And the sounds of things shattering? The loud threats of violence that the neighbors reported."

"It was a horror-thriller?" He said weakly.

The policeman looked at him with guarded interest, still veiled in disgust as he looked upon the morbid form of a tax-leecher. "Really? Which one?"

Motohama began sweating.

Issei ran up the stairs, not even bothering to hide anymore as he dashed up to the bedroom, slamming the door open excitedly and crowing "Matsuda-!"

The door slammed right back into his face, sending him stumbling back.

"Who was that?" The man, self-identified as Dohnaseek asked curiously, turning around from where he stood in front of the bathroom.

"It was my mop." Matsuda insisted. "I was doing tons of sweeping. Gotta erase the evidence, right?"

Dohnaseek cast a dubious eye at the floor, where dust and porcelain lay all over the floor, coating it in a thick mat of particulate matter. "I see." He said slowly.

Matsuda quickly kicked the closet door with his foot, and listened in gratification as several things loudly tumbled around inside.

"It broke." He explained nervously. "I need new stuff. Can you-er-go get some?"

The man stared at him, and he seemed to almost be pulling himself over Matsuda, looking down at him.

"No."

"Alright." Matsuda whispered.

Motohama and the Policeman stared solemnly at a fallen Issei, who had slowly slid slug-esque down the staircase headfirst.

"He's easily scared." Motohama said seriously. "Just cannot handle his movies."

"I see." The policeman said gravely. He crouched down, taking Issei's trembling hand gently into his own. "Son, it's alright to have weak nerves. It doesn't make you any less of a man."

"So much disrespect." Issei wept quietly.

A shadow crossed the policeman's face, a muscle jumping in his jaw. He gently folded Issei's hand over his chest, and stood slowly. His hand was already on his radio, and he briefly whispered a staccato of words, before he turned to a visibly worried Motohama. "I think." He said slowly. "I'd like to see the room where you were watching movies."

"The living room is this way," he said weakly, pointing down the hall. The policeman refused to budge however, giving him a stern look. He spoke softly. "The noise complaints were for the second floor."

"Oh." Motohama said. "You meant the other home theatre."

The policeman raised a brow. "You have two?"

"Oh yes." Motohama replied, sweat running down the back of his neck. "We alternate. One movie per theatre."

"What wealthy hobbies you have, Matsuda-kun, for someone leeching off others' goodwill." The policeman said mildly, laser stare analyzing his soul. Motohama swallowed, and said nothing as the man slowly turned around, following the wooden walls until he came to the open staircase upwards. He looked back at Motohama briefly, before beginning his ascent.

Motohama gladly kept the man firmly between himself and any potential danger, as he followed nervously behind.

"Man." Dohnaseek rubbed his hair ruefully. "Where the hell did that guy go?"

Matsuda nodded his head mutely, bouncing the bathroom's doorknob in his hand, where Dohnaseek had simply torn it off in impatience. Picturing the twisted brass handle as his neck, Matsuda carefully kept quiet as the scruffy man paced about the room. The man was somewhat volatile, occasionally snapping his head around and glaring around him as though trying to intimidate clues into revealing themselves. He looked back at Matsuda. "Freed really isn't here? I see traces of him."

"I never saw him. Dunno where he went."

The man cursed under his breath. "I'll need to hunt him down then, and-"

The door swung open gently, and Dohnaseek turned, and met the now tense Policeman's eye.

"Oh hello." Dohnaseek said pleasantly.

The policeman's hand slowly went down to his hip.

"Hello." Matsuda croaked. The policeman's eye darted to him, then began flicking between him and Dohnaseek rapidly, taking in how close they were standing to each other, and how comfortable they seemed in the rubble.

"Hello." The policeman said seriously. "And who might you all be."

Dohnaseek finally seemed to catch on to what was going on, eyes fixed on the badge.

"Ah," he said, somewhat hesitantly. "We're-"

"-The cleaning service." Matsuda abruptly cut in. Dohnaseek folded his arms, relieved. "Yes." He nodded. "We clean. Rooms."

"Rooms." The policeman said mildly. "Like this one."

Everyone once more turned to look at the filthy room, Motohama squeezing in past the policeman to lean against the wall, nervously panting. Matsuda caught his eye, and Motohama shook his head. No one had called him in.

"And why," the policeman continued. "Are you not cleaning then."

"The tools are broken." Dohnaseek blurted, reflexively looking at Matsuda, who took a step back. Why was this on him?! He wasn't the make-shit-up guy! He was bad at this! Motohama usually handled lying to people! Frantically thinking of what to say, he cast a pleading look at Motohama, who rolled his eyes and slammed the closet door open.

Out rolled two figures, limbs entangled and bouncing. They fell apart as they rolled out of the closet, a panting Freed and Kiba coated in dust and filth slowly panting.

Matsuda pointed at them. "We have squatters."

The policeman had a glazed look to his eyes, looking at them all with deep suspicion, but no words seemed to come to his lips as Freed and Kiba continued to pant heavily on the bedroom floor. Instead, he shut his mouth and shot them all disapproving looks.

He was, however, wise enough not to get involved in a land dispute, and so looked away quickly. He turned to Motohama, shoving a sheet of paper into his hands and slowly turned away, stumping down the stairs, and eventually slamming the door on his way out.

"Huh." Matsuda said. "That wasn't so bad." Motohama shot him a filthy look, and shredded the job flyer in his hands to pieces, tossing the paper onto Freed's fallen body.

Dohnaseek swiftly reached down, snagging Freed before they could do worse, stood up and began rapidly backstepping, eyes on Kiba.

"I think it's time we left." He said greasily, coming up on the window. He caught Matsuda's eye, and saluted him. "Clean up after us, eh newbie?" He said, but something in his tone sounded mocking as he climbed out the window.

And then they were gone, a loud crash echoing as they landed on the garden supplies Motohama's parents kept under his bedroom window so he wouldn't try to sneak out.

"Say." Motohama said, still staring at the open window. "Didn't one of those guys look kinda like Freed? You remember, that priest guy from last week?"

Issei slammed the door open, stumbling in and groaning. "What happened?!" He demanded, eyes wild. "The police guy tripped on me on the way out! Who the fuck was here? Where'd he go?"

Matsuda groaned. "Just shut up idiot."