"What do we do now?" Issei asked, dazed. He hadn't the faintest clue, staring at the ceiling as he was. The floor had been swept, the pottery lain aside, doors shut, tables shifted and stains washed away. In the leftover silence, a feeling of grandeur seemed to grow from the home, of noble stoicism from his position. The empty hall lay silent, their breathing the loudest thing to be heard for as long as they allowed it. And there he lay amid the drifting dust, a boy of 15, confused and lost in a world larger than he'd ever expected.

Who could have expected it?! The priest, the devil, the police?! It was too much.

The ghost still pissed him off though. He had, by far, gotten the best out. Even Kiba looked somewhat miserable, and he'd done barely anything. That ghost was getting, like, massages or something in the great beyond right now. It was enough to make a man religious.

Motohama and Matsuda groaned, lying on the floor beside him as they had for the past hour, heads spinning and tired from Kiba constantly deflecting their questions. Oh, the questions they had. The pale boy sat uncomfortably formally on Motohama's couch above them, eyes darting left and right in some private unease, yet he had no answers.

Kiba broke the silence first, lips moving emptily for a few seconds before he found his voice. "They will not be returning tonight." Motohama's brows furrowed at this, and Issei similarly felt entirely unconvinced by such a meaningless conjecture. "They know I'm here, and by now they surely know who I am." Kina continued. "The home, forgive me, isn't worth such trouble." The house itself bore witness to this, for as dignified as it may have felt, dust streaming past deep red sunbeams, the place had never looked beautiful. It was a middle-class home for a middle-class family, and not one particularly beloved.

Issei worked himself up onto his elbows, propping his upper body up. His eyes traced the thick sunbeams as they fell onto the wall, and the deep shadows left around them. It was in one of these pools that Kiba pointedly sat, off to the side of the couch. "That's a great question." Issei abruptly sat up all the way, swinging his arms forward so they lay on his lap. "Who the fuck are you Kiba."

Those laser-blue eyes briefly paused on him, before moving on.

"I'm a devil."

Issei sighed. He got up, groaning, brushing dust off his slacks and shaking out his legs. He'd nearly given up on getting anything else.

"That's never been an answer!" Matsuda snorted, slowly stretching his limbs out. He winced, and groaned a little, slapping his palms against the floor as he forced his legs to fold under him. Motohama coughed gently as Matsuda kicked up some dust, turning and ramming his fist into Matsuda's side, who wheezed and rolled over. Falling onto his side and curling up, Matsuda spun on his side with a violent glint to his eyes, turning and limply kicking at Motohama's shins.

Issei turned and kicked at Motohama's shins as well, starting a brief fight that ended when Issei accidentally kicked the bottom of Motohama's foot and sent him sliding into the wall headfirst.

Issei fistpumped, standing over their fallen forms.

Turning away from both boys chewing dust, Issei looked back at Kiba. Kiba snorted. "In which world does that fail to answer the question."

"In the one where 'devil' seems to be as meaningless a descriptor as 'priest'." Issei commented drily, working his shoes back on.

Kiba leaned back, with a contemplative look to his face. "It isn't." The answer was less irritating than how honestly he seemed to be answering. That pissed Issei off, that Kiba could take such a dumb answer so seriously.

"It isn't what?!" He growled

"Meaningless." Kiba said. Issei groaned, shaking his head a bit. Of course it was meaningless! "He attacked us! He's a bad person!" What kind of priest went around breaking into people's houses?!

"Irrespective, he was certainly a priest. Didn't you see his holy vestments, Hyoudou-san?"

Issei felt like tearing his hair out. He couldn't win. Slumping, he allowed his arms to swing to his side. The exhaustion he'd been fighting back threatened to sweep him under. Raising a hand to his face, he idly wiped under his nose, pulling his finger away.

Shuddering, he rubbed his fingers together, powdering the dried blood and wiping it off on his pants.

"Fuck it."

Everyone turned to look at him for the outburst.

"Fuck it." Issei decided. "Let's go get some ramen."

Kiba looked at him. "Are you serious?"

"Sure." Issei shrugged, trying not to think about something else waiting for them upstairs. This entire place was cursed. "The house is gonna be sold anyway, right? Who cares. Fuck this place."

"Screw it, he's got a point." Matsuda grunted, and slowly stood, staggering a bit, and offering Motohama a hand. He accepted, and allowed himself to be pulled up, eventually finding his feet before he turned back to Issei. "Why not." Motohama mused. "Never liked this place much." Unsaid went the implication that anything retrieved from the home was super tainted, and there wasn't enough sanctified salt on earth to purify the vhs collection. Issei unconsciously wiped his hand on his pants. Good riddance.

Kiba looked a little startled. "It's your parents home, Motohama-san, are you certain-"

"Dude," Motohama wearily cut him off. "I've had people walk in like they own the place twice. Unless you're gonna tell me who they actually were-" Kiba's lips tightened to bloodless lines, but he said nothing, "-then I don't intend to exactly live here."

Issei wiped a tear away. He knew what Motohama was sacrificing. Three years of porn, his console and like twenty video games. Plus, all his progress on the latest Dragon Quest. It was a brave decision.

"But-"

Matsuda clapped Kiba fiercely on the shoulder, shaking his head. Kiba subsided with a troubled look, but didn't seem to know how to confront Motohama.

"We'll figure it out." Motohama said curtly. "That's for me and my family to figure out."

And that was that.

Kiba looked at him for a long moment, a look Motohama met evenly, before the taller blonde looked away and nodded slowly. Together, they turned as one and looked down the hall. The sunlight pouring into the emptied home had decreased already, the turn of day making the atmosphere grow melancholy.

Kiba was the first to turn away, padding down the hall. Issei gave it a few seconds longer before he did the same, slapping Motohama's back as he passed, Matsuda joining him as they walked to the entryway. Kiba slowly opened the door as they approached with a brief look back at them, and they stepped out into the cool evening air. Issei shivered briefly, pulling his jacket tighter around his shoulders as a breeze blew through, and they stood there in silence until Motohama finally stepped quietly out.

The click of the lock echoed.

Turning, he nodded to them, and they stepped out and swung the metal gate closed behind them.

"Very well, Motohama-san." Kiba spoke up tightly, turning to face them with the evening sun shining in his eyes. "I apologize I could not be more help. I will see you all on-"

"Wait." Issei cut him off, ignoring Kiba's look of irritation at being cut off for a third time. "Where the hell are you going?"

"Away." Kiba said. He'd already half-turned away in the direction of the school.

"Didn't you hear me?" Issei jerked his thumb over his shoulder. "We're getting ramen. Come on."

Kiba blinked a little, his hands drifting down to his pockets.

"I'm not paying." Matsuda broke in firmly. "If you forgot your wallet, Gen-san will let you work off the bill."

"Oh." Kiba said faintly, a little red dusting his cheeks. "Well, lead on then."

And if he was smiling a little, the three boys made no mention of it. They may, however, have laughed at him while he wasn't looking.

Issei ducked under the curtain, stepping back as the humidity hit and holding the curtain up for the other three. Motohama walked in and grabbed one of the tables by the corner to Gen's puzzlement, the elderly man leaning over the bar counter to peer at his puzzledly. Matsuda walked in after, waving the man's curiosity down casually. Satisfied, Gen instead fixed his eyes on a sheepish Kiba. Something passed between the two, to Issei's sudden interest, as he hadn't been aware that the two had known each other at all. Odd, because Kiba sure hadn't known how to get here. Had they met outside?

Regardless, Gen nodded them in, taking three orders from Issei and patiently waiting for Kiba to finish going through the menu. Nodding himself off, he turned and slid into a seat beside Matsuda, across from a quiet Motohama.

"What's up with Motohama?"

Matsuda shrugged. "Can't be the house."

"He hates that place." Issei agreed. "The porn?"

"We made digital copies of the old stuff, and the new ones are replaceable."

"The important ones?"

"Fuck 'em."

The two instinctively began rubbing their hands on their pants, phantom taint making their hands itch. Fuck Motohama, and fuck his habit of rubbing the vhs's on himself what the fuck.

"I forgot we had homework due tomorrow." Motohama whispered finally, refusing to meet their eyes. They swapped exasperated looks.

"Dumbass."

"You're fucked."

"What's going on?" Kiba blinked, hesitantly sitting beside Motohama. He relaxed when Motohama slid over a bit, giving Kiba more room and letting him relax a bit.

"This moron forgot about Hana-sensei's english assignment." Matsuda snorted.

"That doesn't seem...much like his fault?" Kiba said carefully. Issei gave him a flat look. "Yeah." He snorted. "'Cause 'I was haunted' is gonna go over as an excuse."

"All I wanted was to get through highschool quickly and surrounded by babes catering to my every whim." Motohama groaned. "That's all. Why does life have to be so difficult."

Issei and Matsuda nodded sympathetically. Kiba looked troubled. "That seems somewhat unlikely."

"Son of a bitch!" Motohama roared, slamming his fist into the table. "I don't want to hear that shit from a goddamn popular-"

"Miso." Gen said drolly, placing the bowl down and deliberately slopping some broth onto Motohama's hand.

Motohama paused. Staring at his skin reddening and burning, Motohama slowly unclenched his fist and turned to Gen. "Gen-san, why."

"You're scaring my customers." Gen informed him politely, murder in his eyes. A bloody cleaver swingin gently on his hip seemed to hum. "The pigs are getting restless too."

"That's disgusting." Matsuda informed him, eyes fixed on the cleaver coated in dry gore. Gen slapped a fly away idly.

"Part of the charm."

Issei leaned across the table and hissed at Kiba. "I ordered beef, right?"

"I didn't." Kiba muttered back. Poor bastard.

Gen looked at him blankly, and under that gaze, Issei slowly slid entirely back off the table and down into his seat, sinking lower and lower until Gen was unable to see him at all. Satsified, he turned to bring them more bowls.

The table remained entirely silent as he placed them down, thankfully having the mercy not to vent further displeasure on the rest of them. Motohama was wise enough not to complain about the unfairness. None of them cared.

Eventually, the bowls sat, steaming gently and they stared apprehensively at the cuts of meat floating on top. Issei slowly crawled back up to a human's position, having escaped Gen's cold fury.

"I don't remember Gen-san's pork being quite so fresh before." Motohama said. "Usually, he does all that in the morning."

"Maybe he had a dinner rush."

Issei snapped his chopsticks apart. "Only one way to find out."

"Motherfucker, you didn't even order the pork." Matsuda hissed.

"You insisted on the freshness." Issei cheerfully reminded him, and dug in.

With the briefest of pauses, the rest joined in.

Freshness or no, it was delicious. Salmonella never went down so easy.

The sound of chewing was all they heard for a bit, until Kiba put down his chopsticks and cleared his throat. "I'm interested in something." He said slowly. "Among the students, you three are fairly...unique. What is it you all want?"

Issei blinked, startled.

Kiba slowly turned to look at him, brow raised. "Hyoudou-san?"

Fuck! He'd drawn attention! He'd forgotten never to make eye contact during a serious conversation! He turned, but Motohama and Matsuda quickly looked away. He was on his own. Shit.

Issei wavered a bit. He felt unsure as to what sort of response he should have. "Dunno."

Kiba stared at him. The silence was awkward. Goddamnit Kiba, didn't you know not to get topical before dessert? It was hard to blow off the topic when it sat so heavily on the table. The chewing only made it worse, because Kiba refused to say anything goddamnit.

Isse slowly swallowed, thinking of an actual answer.

Nothing came to mind.

He scratched his head a little, refusing to meet Kiba's eyes. "No one's ever asked me that before."

Kiba's brow furrowed. "Never...?"

Issei shrugged, somewhat defensive. "I don't think anyone's really thought that far yet." Like, seriously. Who even thought about that shit before senior year?

Kiba's lips seemed to twitch upwards a moment. "I assure you, that is not the case. I know several people that would disagree strongly, and one in particular would be very angry with such words." Issei distinctly felt like he was being laughed at, in some cosmic, preternatural way, and felt some slight resentment bubble up. It wasn't his fault!

This rude child was asking the impossible of him. Who was he, to read the mood like that? It suited someone like him far more to go with the flow.

"Never considered it. Not once." He twirled the chopsticks in his hands, feeling oddly irritated. "Never even passingly."

"Money." Matsuda grunted.

"Money's about as far as I've gotten." Issei allowed. "Money's good."

Kiba sighed lightly. "That's a pretty mediocre attitude."

Issei paused for a second, and looked, really looked at his ramen. It was an oily brownish-black, broth, ginger and onion floating to the surface, beef poking out every time the broth swirled around his chopsticks. His face floated in the liquid. A chili flake slid down his cheek, and he pushed a fishcake out of his bangs. It was his face, his regular face. That said something. Even with everything he'd learned, had anything really happened?

"I'm more suited at laughing at that sort of guy, ah? I suck at being that honest."

"Really?" Kiba chewed a noodle thoughtfully. "You seem very honest to me, Hyoudou-san."

Hyoudou, Hyoudou, Hyoudou.

"Call me Ise." Issei said impulsively.

Kiba blinked, somewhat bewildered. "Are you sure?" He seemed rather startled, but to be honest Issei was uncomfortable with that sort of formality to begin with.

Issei hastily waved him off. "You helped us out for free. It's cool, you know? You already call these two by their first names."

Issei watched as Kiba processed that statement, shooting Motohama and Matsuda a dubious look they replied to with identical grins. He turned away, shuddering a little. "You see? You're an honest man, Ise-san." Shrugging, he turned back to his ramen. "If you tried harder, couldn't you do better?"

"I could." Issei admitted. "But I don't want to. I got into Kuoh for reasons that have already been fulfilled! I have no reason to try much harder. I wasn't interested in college to begin with."

"Ah, perhaps you're far too honest at times, Ise-san."

"It's one of my positive qualities, you know."

"I'm sure. It's a shame you can't see further, you know? College is important, Ise-san."

"Can't I?" Issei slurped a noodle slowly, slightly surprised that Kiba was polite enough to wait for him to finish chewing. Embarrassed, he swallowed hurriedly, coughing a little to clear his throat. "I think I see enough." He sniffed a little. "I only have so many years to live free, you know? The Kuoh Academy name is pretty good for getting a low-level salaryman position. I have a couple years left. A few years left to accomplish my dream!"

Kiba looked surprised. "A dream?"

"I'll be a harem king!" He said proudly, loudly enough that people looked at him with some degree of shock. "I'll fight for that!" He tossed his chopsticks aside and lifted a fist firmly into the air!
A motion he stopped halfway after a gentle cough from the bartable. He slowly lowered his fist, cowering from Gen's stare until he looked away. Clearing his throat delicately, Issei turned back to Kiba.

Kiba had snorted so hard that his Ramen had nearly gone down the wrong pipe. Issei looked at him, slightly perplexed as Kiba breathed deeply, drinking some water to calm himself. "How honest, Ise-san." He said, eyes slightly watery. "But can I ask a question?"

"Sure?" Issei blinked at him.

Kiba smiled uncomfortably, wiping at his mouth. "Why?"

"Why?"

"Why a harem? Why pursue a dream like that?"

Issei thought about it. "Because it would make me happy." He said seriously. "I can't think of anything that would make me happier."

"Nothing?" Kiba looked oddly focused, somewhat invested. Issei felt the urge to lean back a bit. "What happened to money?"

"Money is so you can buy things that make you happy." Issei crossed his arms, gently drumming his fingers against his bicep as he tried to word out his point. It existed as a thought in his mind, some kind of understanding he'd implicitly come to with himself, a feeling he couldn't quite word.

"If I had a harem," He said finally, "I don't think I'd need anything else."

"Ise-san, if it's loneliness you fear-"

"It's not abandonment. I've had friends leave often enough that I'm used to enjoying the moment." Issei said honestly, carefully not looking at Motohama and Matsuda. "I just like breasts."

Kiba's eye slightly twitched.

"The more the better."

Kiba sighed lightly.

"Ise-san." Kiba said softly, smiling a little despite himself. "Such simplicity is something...admirable in it's own way. Flawed in others."

"I know, but I have plenty of time to grow up, or whatever." Issei reached forwards, scooping up his chopsticks and twirling them again nervously. "I don't mind living like this for now. I'm happy."

"It doesn't work like that." Kiba said gently. "You don't grow up as you age." He looked into his bowl, in a manner similar to Issei himself. He couldn't help but wonder what Kiba saw in that bowl. He'd never seen a reflection that left someone looking so sad before.

"Age is something you choose. To learn and grow up."

"That's better then." Issei said finally. "Because it means I can be honest to my feelings for as long as I choose to." And that relieved him a bit. He'd chosen to live happily, and he could continue for as long as he felt like it. He couldn't think of a happier way to live.

Kiba chuckled gently, slowly getting louder until he was shaking on his stool.

Issei watched, slightly worried as Kiba rocked back and forth on his seat, shaking with silent laughter. He'd covered his face, long hands hiding his expression, and something about it struck Issei as profoundly strange.

Ah yes, Issei recalled, as Kiba turned a wry half-grin his way, eyes reddened. This was a devil, after all. Oddness was only to be expected.

"You're right." Kiba said serenely, and something about it felt like he'd come to a decision himself. "I can be honest to my feelings so long as I choose to."

Issei eyed him carefully, but the boy seemed to have let something go.

"Yo, that's creepy as shit." Matsuda hissed.

"More than a little ominous." Motohama frowned.

"Maybe so, Motohama-san. But Ise-san?" Kiba said softly. "How honest have youtruly been?"

Unbidden, a memory of dark hair flashed past his eyes, a mocking grin teasing him from the corner of his mind. The most attractive person to ever take him seriously. He could picture her now, lively and caustic, and he flushed a little despite himself.

"Oh?" Kiba grinned a little. "Perhaps you spoke too soon, Ise-san."

"I-" Issei flushed. "I didn't-" He felt his heart beat faster, and his tongue tied a little, anger almost flaring at being caught out. "I didn't-, she isn't, Yuuma doesn't-she doesn't see that-" He stuttered, and turned away from Kiba's lively half-smile. "I just-I had something important to-"

"Yuuma?" Issei turned to the side a little, bewildered, as the elderly Ramen chef stopped across from him at the little bar. "Black haired, pretty girl? Tired, like all the time? Smokes like a stack?"

Issei whipped his whole body around, feeeling his heart lurch into his chest. "You know her, Gen-san?!"

The chef leaned back, shooting him a slightly odd look. "Yes." He said simply, a little wary. Issei forced himself back onto his sear, when he realized he'd nearly dove onto the bartable. "She shows up on Thursday nights, between 8 and 10 usually."

"Thanks!" Issei said, jittering in his seat a little. It was Wednesday! He'd barely missed her! Barely!

"You're a nice kid, so don't go doing anything rash." The chef grunted. Issei was briefly stunned. The old man had never expressed a positive emotion in regards to him before! What a dandy old man!

"Thanks gramps!" Issei said cheerfully. "I bet you're popular with elderly women!"

The chef's face darkened to stormy, and Issei quickly realized he'd burned through the old man's goodwill for the day, and it was time to scarper. Turning, he saw Motohama already collecting bowls and Matsuda shooting him a thumbs-up and holding the bills. Kiba slowly rose and stood aside awkwardly.

Nice.