A/N: Gecko is to blame here, and so am I. x')

…and I think one of wildkurofang's reviews inspired a verse or two. No Goethe-imitations this time, since I wanted it to be more dialogue-ish. Sorry that it's just one chapter, but the next one is extremely long and takes time. ^_^'

I do not own or profit from any of what Kazue Kato has created.

Exams… were over.

It took a while before Shiro had disabled the automatic "which subject should I study next?" reflex that had divided his consciousness into a set schedule: a process that gave him the strangest feeling of relaxing a tensed muscle after exercise, but mentally.

His desk needed cleaning: of course, the first thought that formed in his relaxed brain was a silly one. The desk glowered at him from underneath the eraser shreddings and the toppled paper-towers and declared that no, it was not a silly thought. It really did need cleaning.

There is an intimate though often overlooked connection between the world outside and the world inside. Most people who embark on the task of cleaning their desks will at some point wonder if the desk isn't just a metaphor, and if it might be the disorganisation in their minds that translates its needs into manageable forms. Tangible problems are more easily handled than the winding spiral knots of thought, after all: and if you're lucky, the metaphor might be the mirror you needed to view your thoughts from a different perspective.

It could be so, of course: the subconscious is a clever trickster in getting its own way. It could also merely be that the desk needed to be tidied.

When Shiro was done, and the fresh smell of soap lay spread out on the desk, he felt lighter at heart. Things were going the right direction now. Knots were finally loosening, strings were finally aligning – and no matter how he squinted for shadows, the future ahead seemed bright and promising.

Drawing a deep breath of lemon and pine, he left the room to see if he could chase away the one remaining shadow.

True to his promise the other day, Shiro stopped at the white double doors and knocked.

"Can I come in, or are you 'busy'?"

"As a matter of fact I am", Mephisto's voice sounded from within the office. "Would you be so kind and wait?"

"Sure, take your time."

He assumed Mephisto would get the hint, even if he wasn't likely to entertain any succubi during office hours. It was odd for him to have a visitor now, though. The Academy had become virtually void of staff, all teachers having retired into crammed offices to correct exams. Who could have anything to discuss with the headmaster now?

Shiro was practicing manual dexterity with one of his cigarettes when the door handle turned from inside. The cigarette got tucked behind his ear, and he pushed away from the wall he'd been leaning against – and missed a step when he saw who had been to see Mephisto.

Many things happen when you suddenly have time on your hands; when the tunnel-visioned focus releases its grip and all the things it blocked out flow back into your consciousness. Desks that need cleaning, for example. Thoughts that need organising. Changes that have occurred in the absence of your notice.

Saburota had been dispatched to the periphery of Shiro's awareness for the past weeks, like a piece of furniture. He had either sat by the desk writing reports, or been away on missions that would subsequently place him back at the desk with more reports. If they had exchanged any words, Shiro hadn't had the storage space or the time to archive them in memory.

Now Saburota came sharply into focus as he passed Shiro by on his way out. Rapid change, slow change – you'll notice them both sooner or later. When you have the time to look for them.

Saburota had been smiling. For lack of better word.

Shiro turned his head to look at the straight, uniformed back disappearing down the corridor. It looked like it would hurt to be that perfectly… perfect. And that smile...

"What was he doing here?" he asked, not bothering to turn his head towards the one he directed the question at. Mephisto's big ears caught everything.

"He came looking for enlightenment regarding the nature of his cousin's fate in Deep Keep. A most committed young man", he replied smoothly from behind the big desk before the high windows. "Although a sharp mind should watch carefully what it commits itself to."

Mephisto had seen it too, then: the murky water beneath the sheet of polished ice.

"What did you tell him?" Shiro grabbed the backrest of a striped armchair as he walked and dragged the heavy piece of furn- Heh, no. It wasn't heavy. Not anymore. When he swivelled it around to set it in front of Mephisto's desk, he tried lifting it as he did: the old-fashioned armchair yielded without resistance. "Would you look at that? With only one hand."

"A piece of wordsmithing of suitable design", he replied with a furtive smile, and a small voice in the back of Shiro's mind told him that Mephisto enjoyed toying with Saburota as much as Shiro himself had, that time when he'd been on cigarette withdrawal. The difference was that Mephisto didn't have any conscience that told him to stop. "I assume you had a good read?"

"Yup; so if you could lend me the next one…?" Shiro had barely placed the manga magazine on the desk before the next issue poofed into existence on top of it. "Thanks. And go easy on Saburota-senpai, would you?" Because someone had to be his conscience. "He wasn't okay before, he's even less okay after his cousin was killed with no killer to be found." He put the magazine down in his lap and slouched back in the chair to make it somewhat more comfortable.

"Such heart-warming concern for your colleagues, Shiro – gratuitous as it is. I may not be able to lessen the burden on Todo-kun's mind, but I certainly won't increase it", he ensured and spread his hands with a jovial look of innocence. "As Branch Director, my topmost priority is the welfare of my employees~"

…sometimes, policy and scheme can fill the same function as conscience, Shiro supposed. Mephisto did have a logical way of thinking, even if he seemed to make an effort to hide it, and there was logic to keeping his employees safe and sound. Cogs in the machinery tend to work better if they're not broken.

"You're more than a little warped, but that's nothing new", he stated lightly. "I dropped by 'cause I had an unusually informative chat with Kita-san the other day. The Yaonaru don't like you much, apparently."

"I find that my presence in exorcist circles is tolerated more often than appreciated." That they had no choice but to tolerate him put a smug, content undertone in his bouncing voice.

…Shiro couldn't explain it – which was all and well, because he never could. Not when he felt that… that instinct. Different things triggered it, and the only thing he'd learnt was to recognise the feeling when it came. Meditating as Sen had shown had made him a little more observant of it, which in turn allowed him to decide whether to pull the brake or go along with the impulse. This time, he chose to follow.

"And yet tolerance seems too kind a word when spite is spoken snidely. It was hardly crude coincidence when your school was wrought where worlds entwine."

"I do not court coincidence if I can have a say; to plan ahead and strategise, that's the demon way." Mephisto hadn't expected that kind of reply, but picked up instantly in his own smooth cadence.

"To what end would you strategize, if that was your design? The Yaonaru don't seem to think your intentions are benign." Ngh, it didn't sound as good as when Mephisto did it…

"Benign's a sell-sword word, dependent on who speaks it; a reply would cut with forking edge whoever he that seeks it", he returned with ease, crossing his arms with an amused glint in the green eyes.

"He really is the deity of words and wit." He made it sound so easy, as if it just poured out of his mouth like a stream of silver. "Tie that tongue of silver still and speak less like a serpent; I seek the cause this school was built, and…" Fuck: how do you rhyme on serpent? "…why you gather artefacts so fervent-ly."

No, Shiro couldn't explain that instinct. It was like hearing music in the distance and tapping the rhythm unawares. Some part of his brain reacted to it, couldn't reproduce it, and left him with an impulse to join a dance he didn't know the steps of.

"A serpent like myself most esteemed his tongue doth hold, and shouldn't need enlighten you; the taste of metal's cold. Be it silence gilt or speech of supple silver that grievance to you dealt – should you like it otherwise, that serpent's tongue", he purred softly, "the heat of passion might just make it smelt~"

…yeah, didn't need that bedroom look on his face to know what kind of reply he was fishing for.

"I surrender", Shiro smiled and rubbed his fingers over his forehead, as if easing an itch on the inside of his skull. "I can't coordinate brain and mouth well enough to answer that."

"No need to coordinate if you only use one of them~" he suggested with a bright grin.

"What kind of principal are you, discouraging students from learning? I'll keep talking till I can coordinate", he smiled amiably as he turned the dialogue around. "About the Yaonaru: what's the deal with building the Academy at that weak spot?"

Apparently, he should figure that out on his own: the flirty look was gone in an instant, and Mephisto instead tipped his head to the side and told him with his non-existent eyebrows to think. …and while it was pedagogic and all to be encouraged to think for yourself, a push in the right direction would help the process.

"It's a weak spot in Assiah's defence: what does one do with weak spots in the defence, Shiro…?"

"You fortify them?"

"Not so complicated, was it? You build guard towers and man them with capable guards." He folded his arms outwards elegantly, indicating the Academy around them. "And when your stronghold gains reputation for its high standards, it becomes an attractive location to store all manner of things that cause trouble for less fortified keeps."

It sounded reasonable, which counted for nothing since Mephisto could make anything sound reasonable. The only thing he had de facto said was that this was the explanation Shiro would have to live with.

"So all that stuff is more of an excuse for the Yaonaru to dislike you: and the real reason they do is that when you came here, the Order replaced them as the most influential exorcists in the country?"

"Replaced? Such a mundane term; clearly, you don't understand the art of politics." Oh yes, Mephisto and art… "Politics is war, with words for weapons to conquer the hearts and wallets of the battleground that is the people; war waged with espionage and blackwash and promises made to be broken", he declaimed passionately, looking for all the world like he was conducting an orchestra in the process. "A spectacular cloak-and-dagger theatre of deceitful friendliness and polished masks; a coliseum where liars and thieves compete to see who's most apt at his profession!" Any moment, Shiro expected him to mount the desk to the sound of bronze trumpets, with the Japanese flag billowing dramatically in the background.

"And some of Oscar de Jarjayes' sparkles for good measure", he grinned to himself. Oh yes, that made a very compelling picture.

"It was many years ago that this noble thief stole the title from the Yaonarus, but an undefeated champion seldom sees his laurels taken without grudge." A gilded wreath of leaves popped into existence around his head, and sparkled at least a little bit in the lamplight. "Dear Roma, with all your intrigues and poisoned schemes; if you could see what has become of you today…" he sighed deeply, and skewered a sakura mochi with a flourish of his wrist. "Japan isn't bad, but it lacks that certain dedication to backstabbing that made politics in ancient Rome so exciting."

"I mourn your loss", Shiro said as sincerely as his grin would allow. "So you gave the honour of guardianship of Deep Keep to the Todos, just to piss the Yaonaru off even more?" Childish favouritism and bullying on the grown-ups' playground? Nothing he would put past Mephisto.

"It was a natural course of action, to accentuate our disagreement."

Nope, wouldn't put that past Mephisto.

"Fine as a fish in water in the world of politics, I hear", Shiro snickered. "But what of this artefact they've got? I understand why they'd hate to give it over to their 'enemy' – both of their enemies – but is it something they actually have any use for, or they're just being stubborn for the hell of it…?"

"They have no use for it whatsoever", Mephisto chuckled, and twirled the toothpick between his fingers with a smile. "Demon body parts can be used for decoration at best, although I can think of few humans who would find that aesthetically pleasing. The artefact does, however, give them something to set them apart from other exorcists, and the Yaonaru have always taken great care to set themselves apart from other exorcists." His chuckles grew more intense, until they shook his skinny frame like an earthquake. "In all honesty, I selected the Todos to establish a lineage family that could take my place as the target of their spite – I could never have predicted how well that seed would grow. Fufufufu rivalry that's left to germinate over generation after generation builds flavour like stored wine~"

…and today, neither Yaonarus nor Todos were aware that they had been pitted against each other on purpose, like roosters in a cockfight, long before they were born: meat-shields and entertainment for the game master. Shiro could see the humour in it, but more than that he felt the cold chill that comes with having a conscience. That was one very, very good motivation not to get anywhere near Mephisto's large-scale games.

"Why is this spot so vulnerable, then?" Shiro asked, plucking down the cigarette that had begun tipping dangerously behind his ear. "Is that just coincidence, or is there a reason?"

Mephisto levelled a heavy-lidded, unblinking gaze at Shiro. So striking, that vibrant green…

"Whether coincidence or design is behind it, the location of this weak spot is known in Gehenna, too." If it was his words that came slower, or if he actually slowed time as he spoke… Impossible to tell. "There is a stronghold built under it there as well: a palace, more precisely."

Involuntarily, Shiro's jaw clenched tighter.

"If father ever gains a way of opening a gate to Assiah, he will open it here. I let him think my guard tower is a reception hall, and gather as many artefacts as I can to have means of stalling him if a gate does open." Shiro sat stock still, absorbing every word. It was so rare to see Mephisto this- "Oh, and there's an anime special airing on Saturday: care to watch it?" –this lit up with expectation like a kid on Christmas Eve.

The brief tension poured out of Shiro as something between a huff and a laugh. Really. Demons: turning on a hairpin.

"I can't, I'll be spending the day with Kasu-chan and Shizu-san before they leave town", Shiro smiled. "And what's that supposed to be? Puppy-eyes?"

Mephisto's face had assumed something that looked a little like moping, a little like pleading, and a little like neither expression could be pulled off by a centuries old demon.

"If I want to do puppy-eyes, I turn into a puppy." Yep, he was moping. "These are when-will-it-be-my-turn-to-have-fun-on-summer-holidays-eyes."

"Don't you ha-" Shiro suddenly felt stupid. It wasn't that unusual an occurrence, but it was a new kind of situation with a new kind of stupid: Mephisto's pouty glare was a sample of when-will-it-be-my-turn-to-have-fun-on-summer-holidays-with-you-eyes. "Well… If you give me a day off from the janitor job we can go to Mepphy Land?" And suddenly Christmas wasn't cancelled anymore. "I can always pop in after work and play arcade games, though I'm really rusty by now, so you can pretty much expect to win." Shiro found himself grinning and shaking his head before he knew it. "And right now I can't convince myself to believe you're Satan's son."

Not when the green eyes were shrunken down to two arcs of pure joy, and the wide grin sparkled like a toothpaste advertisement.

"Too adorable…?"

"Too adorable", Shiro agreed with a smile of his own. "Anyhow, I-" The trouser pocket was empty when he patted it. Excellent. "Where does stuff go when you poof it away, the way you always do with my lighter?" he asked, rolling his unlit cigarette between thumb and forefinger.

"That depends." He gestured with his toothpick like a pointer. "If it's a teacup, I put it on the kitchen counter; if it's a magical object I don't want lying around, I store it in a pocket dimension." The wooden tip pointed at Shiro. "Your lighter I put in my scarf drawer."

"Oh. I see." Shiro could no longer keep the innocent act together. "Well, in that case", he put the cigarette between his smiling lips and fished out the supposedly missing lighter form his shirt pocket, "I think I'd best be going."

Priceless, Mephisto's face when he lit the cigarette…!

"See you later." Shiro flashed his best rascal-grin as he rose, magazine in hand, and made for the door. "Not too fast, not too slow…" He heard the muffled pop when Mephisto summoned the object he had poofed out of Shiro's trouser pocket earlier. "Okay, maybe a little faster." He leapt the remaining steps to the door, pulled it open and got out just in time to hea-

"SHIROOOOOO!"

His voice cracked like a shrill gunshot, and set Shiro off sprinting down the corridor, sliding over the squeaking clean marble as he turned the corner, leaping down the stairs three steps at a time, and laughing the way you do when you've just planted a clump of horseshit in your principal's scarf drawer.

A/N:

Victorious gladiators were rewarded with laurels, among other things.

Spoken word battles, of the kind Shiro and Mephisto engage in here, have a long history. The Vikings, in the 5th to 16th century, engaged in something called flyting, which was a spoken word battle where you aimed to insult your opponent in verse as cleverly as possible. There is an 800 years old scripture titled Loki's flyting. That's all I'm saying. ;P

Palace? – Not that I know, but if you look through ch 39 of the manga, there is one frame (shortly after Rin's been knocked through a wall by Amaimon) where you see the silhouette of Gehenna's equivalent of True Cross Academy in the background. What struck me when I read is that it looks like windows on that silhouette. That may of course owe to the less-than-satisfying format of reading on a computer screen, but... oh well. I don't think Mephisto chose that spot for the Academy on a whim. And just the fact that there is something there makes my eyebrows go up. I can't really imagine that Mephisto first built the Academy in Assiah, and then there spontaneously pops up a corresponding mountain in Gehenna to mirror it. That sounds pretty dumb. x') I do have a theory for this, as incredible as it is, so if you stick around this fic long enough you will find out what I think this palace/mountain/fortress is, although I seriously doubt Kato's idea is the same as mine.