A/N: I apologise in advance for abusing Saburota's character. x/ I'm not good at writing this guy, but he happens to be one of very few in the canon cast that could have been present in Shiro's youth. So I kinda need to include him… An early version of him, as told by a demon that has a fondness for half-truths and withheld information.

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

Sundays were different. There was no work on Sundays: it was the prescribed day of rest in Catholic tradition, and as the pious Catholics they both were, Shiro and Mephisto used Sundays for watching anime and sparring. Shiro had decided to pursue his Doctor and Dragoon Meisters first, since those were his favourite subjects, but Knight was the class that more than any other allowed him to develop his imprint enhanced strength. It was a pastime they both could enjoy, and a refreshing break from stationary activities like watching anime and playing games.

They only sparred when the sun had left Japan to cool for the night, both for the issue of the heat and so as not to risk anybody seeing them. Shiro was considerably faster than an average human should be, and even if his physique drew looks and sighs from the female janitors it could not explain the abnormal strength in his slashes against Mephisto.

…yeah, he still got his ass handed to him. Always would. Mephisto never tired, never rested, and could toy with him till he quite literally slumped down on the baseball court they used for training ground. Then he would keep toying with him just to see if he could get a reaction.

"You can rap my head all you like", Shiro told the grass that poked into his mouth where he lay, flattened out on his belly, "I'm not moving another muscle tonight." Actually, he was considering if it wasn't warm enough to sleep outdoors. It seemed like good practice if he wanted to join Kasumi on one of her cross-country hikes in the future, which he very much wanted to.

"And if I take an ear off…?" The cool steel of the blade stopped bumping him in the head and licked against Shiro's earlobe. He tensed involuntarily. It was a leasurely touch, as of the blade pondering whether to slice his ear off of if it was too lazy.

"Don't. I need it to hold my glasses up."

The touch vanished to the sound of a low chuckle underneath the chirping of crickets and night insects. No, Mephisto wouldn't do such a thing. It was a testament to his skill, perhaps more than anything, that he could spar as intensely as they did without ever drawing blood.

Shiro grumbled into the lawn. He'd never be able to match the lissom grace of Mephisto's swordsmanship. It didn't matter that his damaged nervous system evened out the difference by enhancing his strength; Mephisto had a completely different kind of control in his movements. He had precision, as if the sword was part of his body – as was the ground, the air, everything around him.

"His eyes work different from a human's, and his hearing is better, too – maybe it's the same with his other senses…" Differently, corrected a voice in the back of his mind that sounded an awful lot like Shizuku's. "Man, I'm so tired…"

Spending time with Mephisto came with one additional advantage: since demons were territorial, they perceived Shiro as Mephi- as Prince Samael's property when he was nearby, and didn't bother him. As awkward as that was in theory, it was invaluable to have that opportunity to drop his guard completely. He had gotten used to shielding himself now: that didn't mean he liked it. Keeping one's emotions constantly in check was taxing, not to mention handicapping in social life.

…and in addition, Shiro had a gnawing feeling that if he locked his emotions up long enough, they would atrophy; they would wither and stiffen and become empty for real. They would become mechanical responses, reflections mirrored in a surface of polished ice.

"I've been thinking about Saburota-senpai." Shiro forced his fatigued body to make one final effort, and rolled over onto his back to make it easier to talk.

Over on the floating divan he had summoned for himself, Mephisto opened one eye to show he was listening, even if he looked like he was napping.

"I'll never get over that unicorn." Shiro smiled tiredly but happily at the plushie that rested in the crook of the demon's arm. "I asked him if there was anything he needed, when I was gonna go buy groceries the other day. 'No, I'm fine', he said. It wasn't more than that, a perfectly normal reply: and still I had a feeling that he would've replied the same no matter what I'd asked him."

Mephisto's eyebrows rose some millimetre, but other than that no reaction.

"The thing is I've been a bit of a dick to him", Shiro continued, folding his hands behind his head as he spoke straight up into the stars. "I've tried apologising – you know, with what little I'm allowed to say about Deep Keep. That I was under orders not to speak seemed to make him… well, not give up the chase, but at least leave me out of it. I know he's upset about what happened, so when he gave me that 'No, I'm fine' I…"

Shopping for groceries wasn't even remotely related to the Deep Keep incident: Shiro was perfectly aware of that. He was also perfectly aware that Saburota wanted to know the truth, and that the smile he'd worn when he left Mephisto's office hadn't suited him one bit.

"I get the impression he doesn't want anybody to worry about him." And recognised that tendency all too well. "But I do. Kinda. In a weird way." He removed his glasses and rubbed at his eyes, feeling a sheen of residual sweat leave a sharp sting in them. So damn difficult to explain, these issues he always seemed to run into with people. "I think… I recognise the pattern, now that I'm aware of it, but I think I noticed it because of the imprint. I think I might have an idea of… how demons must view humans."

There it was: his reluctance to share with others beyond what was fun and superficial. …but who else could he share things like this with? Shizuku would give him that Wary Of The Demon Charmer Look, Ryuuji would get anxious and worried, Midori would quietly break his heart with eyes that wished he wouldn't be like a moth drawn by flame – and Mephisto just lay there, silent and untroubled, and listened.

"There's something eating Saburota-senpai", Shiro continued in flat, murmuring tones, "and I know that because it triggered an impulse in me once. I wanted to provoke a reaction, and what I felt then was – I think – like a milder version of what you felt with that manga magazine. That time when you were forbidden to watch or read anything." He put his glasses back on and glanced at Mephisto – who was busy braiding the tail of the unicorn, from the looks of it, but no doubt listening. "I had this urge to push Saburota-senpai till he snapped. Sure, I've felt tempted to taunt people many times, but that was different." Yeah. Very different. "There was a sadistic side to it that I didn't recognise. Can imprint cause such impulses? Or is it your bad influence in general?" he added in lighter tones.

"What bad influence?" he smiled crookedly, admiring his handiwork with the unicorn. "It's all thanks to me that you've learnt to make use of your head – and to do a tie, although you insist on making it sloppy on purpose. Horribly bad manners."

"Why, it's a matter of modus vivendi, princess~" Shiro explained with a blithe smile.

"And your vocabulary has improved vastly from my bad influence, too", he observed with a cheeky smirk – which quickly dropped, along with his pointed ears. "Haah, but your implementation of it is as poor as your taste in wearing ties… Indeed, modus vivendi…"

A bubbling chuckle trembled in Shiro's throat: oh, Mephisto was a big brother, through and through. It pleased him, more than he would ever admit out loud, that the Honda siblings didn't seem to be the only ones that had adopted him as family.

"To answer your question, the imprint enhances what is already present in you: brings your darker sides out and makes them thrive. You have a quick mouth and a fondness for teasing and taunting: I wouldn't find it surprising if an imprint could make those traits take on a more demonic quality."

That… was probably true. It sounded very simple and very true when Mephisto explained it like that.

"This is what I meant when I said it's up to you to embrace or suppress your nature", he continued casually, using his magic to let the unicorn gallop along the length of the divan's backrest. "These urges you experience will not disappear: but~ the choice is yours whether you control them or they control you."

…so simple. Mephisto made it sound so simple and uncomplicated. That was one of the things Shiro really liked with the demon: he didn't judge. A human with a demon's instincts was an anomaly that would have caused plenty of reaction in other humans – fear, anxiety, repulsion, distrust; bothersome things Shiro would rather avoid. But Mephisto didn't bat an eye, didn't care one bit. And that… was relieving beyond words.

Deep down, it wasn't the effects the imprint had on him that made Shiro tense and worried. It was the effects it would have on others. It was the damage he might, invountarily, do to others. Mephisto was immune to that, or at least he could handle it much better than humans, both because he had the same instincts and because he knew why Shiro was behaving the way he did: that was another factor that made it easy to relax in his presence.

"I never thought of how many choices we make till I got to know you: which in itself involved some pretty dumb choices – but that's life, I guess", he pondered aloud. "What about Saburota-senpai? Any idea what's up with him?"

There was, he wouldn't deny, a trace of self-berating woven into his questions. He had been awful to Saburota, completely unjustified and without the means to repair the damage properly. He had been awful to Yasuda and Fuji, too, and because of that Fuji had changed; Fuji had made choices that had...

Shiro closed his eyes, trying to stave off the wave of guilt that threatened to wash over him. No, he had never thought of how many choices humans made until he got to know Mephisto; or what impact those choices could have.

"Recall what I said about tradition…?" the demon asked leisurely.

"Yeah, somewhere beyond three glasses of bourbon and an unknown amount of saké…" Shiro mumbled and knitted his eyebrows together in focus. He had memorised forty sutras and nineteen chapters from the Bible for his latest Aria exam: committing words to memory was second nature by now. "Tradition is a solitary species, and it doesn't appreciate competition."

"Very good~ And why doesn't it?"

Guessing games, huh? Shiro didn't even find it strange anymore. The clues may seem far-fetched, but the conclusion always turned out to be surprisingly accurate.

"A species doesn't appreciate competition…" he mused to the stars, "…because that diminishes its own chances to survive."

"Quite so, quite so", Mephisto nodded against the plush cushions. He put the tips of his clawed fingers against each other and rested his hands on his chest, and Shiro knew immediately that he was about to embark on one of his explanations. "Let us picture Tradition as a living thing, with humans as the territory that provides it with nourishment. Other Traditions, if aggressive, may lay claim to the humans and starve one Tradition to death. Now, is there any other way that a Tradition could be killed…?"

Shiro took a moment to translate the analogy back and forth, stretching out his body as he did.

"Its territory could become uninhabitable", he murmured, struggling to see how that would apply. "The humans could… change? Uh, in some way that would make them abandon their traditions…?

"M-hm, m-hm: close, but not quite", the demon hummed. "Tradition is a convention of the human mind, a set of customs passed on from one generation to another: it exists only so long as the mind sees fit to sustain it. If enough humans were to change their minds, it would fade. Therefore, Tradition doesn't like change, and doesn't like questioning: it aims to preserve itself, and that necessitates preserving its habitat unchanged."

"Think you can cut this down to a little fewer words?" Shiro interrupted through a yawn. "Unlike you, I need more than an hour's sleep at night to be able to function." The grass was starting to feel damp and cold through his already sweaty clothes. It might still be warm enough to sleep outdoors, but before that he would need a bath. Ah, crap, and he needed to put his laundry in the washing machine, and-

"True understanding can't be built without a solid foundation", Mephisto replied with a delicately slighted edge to his voice. "Rushing things is a terribly bad habit you humans have."

"Well, we don't live forever." It was relieving to be able to relax his mind, yes: it also brought back his habit of speaking without thinking. The statement reminded him sharply of the differences between humans and demons, and what that difference had cost Mephisto once. "Crap, should I apologise? But he doesn't know I know about Johann, and I really don't think he wants me to know about Johann…" And he really didn't want to hit any raw nerves, either. "So are you gonna get going with explaining, or are you waiting for me to fall asleep?" he said in his usual off-hand manner, trying to move the conversation along.

"Such a pity the imprint didn't do anything for your manners…" Mephisto sighed and massaged the base of his nose. Shiro sighed inwardly, too: no raw nerves hit, as far as he could tell. "As briefly as possible, Tradition requires a new generation to continue where the old one left off. But what if the next generation isn't willing…?"

"…don't know. Tradition dies?"

"No, it doesn't want to die: so what does it do?"

Do? There wasn't much it could do, since it had no mind or muscle to force people do its bidding. Though, if it had been a living thing…

"It would try to make the next generation take over where the former left off", he replied with a shrug, and rubbed his hands over his arms for warmth. "I don't see how it could do that, since it doesn't have a mind of its own."

"Oh, but it does~ It lives in every human mind, planted there through the minds of parents and relatives to grow a new host generation. Todo-kun is next in line in a famous family of exorcists, groomed with expectation to shoulder the lineage Tradition and carry it with honour: next in line to wear a uniform that doesn't quite agree with him", Mephisto explained to his stuffed unicorn with soft mirth playing in his voice. "Tradition is a form-fitting garment, and if the bearer doesn't fit the form, it will be uncomfortable to wear. What eats Todo-kun, as you put it, is the conflict between the collective mind of Tradition and the single mind of an heir unwilling to conform to it."

Shiro's mind left the cold, damp grass for a moment as the picture became clear to him. He hadn't thought of that possibility. He had figured that Saburota's red tapism and disturbing perfection must be cover for something, but he'd never thought to look past personal motivations and take into account the parameters surrounding him. Trouble with family, huh? Well, Shiro could relate… Feeling trapped in a designated role and not wanting others to know…

He took a moment to inhale the night and taste the unfamiliar scents that lived in it. Mowed grass was the only one he could identify; it had become a favourite through work, and it smelled even richer when night dew saturated it. There were bats in the air, swishing soundlessly past the lone lamp that lit the baseball court for them, catching insects that-

"Moths unto flame", Shiro smiled as the light blinked yet again when a bat flew past. Yeah, there were more things than just the flame to be wary of, if you were prey. The night was full of demons; demons kept at distance by the flame that burnt white and black in its owner's heart. Such an irony… "Maybe you should bring that up with his family?" he suggested casually. "See if they're aware Saburota-senpai might not want to be an exorcist?"

"Heavens no", he dismissed without a moment's hesitation. "It isn't my place to voice opinions on family affairs."

Shiro scowled.

"You're just gonna leave him to feel miserable, then? Wasn't the welfare of your employees your topmost priority?"

"My my, such a compassionate young man~" he snickered. "Don't forget I'm a demon, Shiro."

…he had. Again. It shouldn't be possible, but he did.

"My appointment as Branch Director was controversial in itself, and came with as many restrictions as responsibilities. It's one thing to have a demon give humans orders, and organise their work: that, the Vatican can abide. A demon that counsels human families on how to raise their children – hoo~ that ice is too thin to tread. Besides, Todo-kun is not a child." Mephisto's glance slid down into the corner of his eye, training the faint green glow on Shiro. "Every human is god in her own mind, with supreme authority to choose her own path in life: to heaven, to hell…" A lax smile stretched his lips and let the light fall on sharp fangs. "It always amused me to hear humans call free will a blessing, when it could just as well be called a curse. Oh! On Friday, can we go to Mepphy Land?"

…was it any wonder Shiro forgot he was a demon, when half the time he behaved like a little kid?

"Eh, sorry, Friday won't be any good", he smiled sheepishly. "Kasumi is coming to True Cross, and we're gonna go on a date."

"Oh, I see~" The insinuation saturated every syllable that came out of that wide, toothy smirk. "Well well, I shall find other ways to entertain myself, then."

"I'm sure you'll find ways to keep yourself busy", Shiro grinned back with just as much implication.

"I will most certainly be very busy", the demon agreed, knowing exactly what Shiro was referring to.

"Yeah, no doubt about that", he snickered. "You can tell Carmilla I'm eating more fruit, but I still smoke like a chimney."

"Or I could send her over, to evaluate if the change in diet has made any difference~?"

"M-hm, right in Kasumi's face – you'd like that, wouldn't you?"

Mephisto's bubbling laughter said that yes, yes, he would like that - and had vivid images in his mind of what chaos would entail such an encounter.

"Oh, but speaking of things I would like: I'm still waiting for payback for that dream you claim you didn't appreciate", he said with an expectant grin.

"I didn't appreciate it." Nope: he could feel his intestines squirm at the mere thought of it.

"Keep telling yourself that", he said sweetly. "I'm still waiting for retaliation~"

Shiro shook his head, scrubbing coarse hair back and forth against the hands folded under it.

"I'm not even gonna try, man. There's no way I could ever top you." Crap. That didn't sound right. "Top you for that." Still crap, judging by Mephisto's wheezing laughter. "Top you after that…?" Yeah, the old goat was almost falling off the divan now. "Top that… top the… top… What the fuck am I trying to say…?" he groaned and rubbed his tired eyes. Time to sleep, definitely.

A/N:

Modus vivendi means "way of living". At face value, that's it: the way you choose to live. As an expression, it denotes a compromise two disagreeing parties make that will allow them to coexist peacefully, even if they still disagree. Both meanings are applicable here, I think? =P

Red tapism is too much official formality (the expression supposedly traces its roots to the red tape tied around important dossiers in government business in 16th-century Spain, so as to separate them from less important documents that were held together with common rope or string).