The following morning Doumeki had the strangest urge to wake up far earlier than normal. He finished his chores around his family's temple and ate his breakfast and managed to head to school nearly an hour before he needed to. He wasn't sure why he felt the urge to do so, but he never doubted himself when his instincts bade him to do something. His grandfather often told him that a man's gut was smarter than his brain sometimes, and when he felt his instincts telling him to do something he should do it without question.

So, Doumeki took a seat near the entrance of the school by a tree and pulled a book from his briefcase for some light reading. Every so often his tawny gold eyes would flicker up and gaze at the students as they slowly started to make their way in to school that day.

After about half an hour Doumeki's patience paid in full. He lifted his gaze from his book after he finished another paragraph and was just in time to see the boy from the previous night running with all of his strength for the school grounds. There were small beads of sweat rolling down the boy's temples and his face was flushed, but otherwise he was mostly composed once he came to a full stop just inside the gates.

Doumeki closed his book and put it away. His suspicion had indeed been correct then when he guessed why he'd never noticed Watanuki before the previous day. Doumeki showed up for school just before he could be considered late while it appeared that Watanuki came very early every day, clearly harassed by spirits each time he walked to and from school.

Surely he was bothered at home as well? Not everyone could live on purified grounds like Doumeki. Did he buy spirits wards frequently? How long did they last him if he was pestered this often? Doumeki was sincerely curious how his estranged peer had managed to live so long with such danger. What did the boy's parents make of their son's problem? Had they sought any help yet for him?

Doumeki walked up to Watanuki in what appeared to be bored detachment. His face, as always, was blank and neutral. "Oi."

Watanuki visibly tensed and stood upright, his fists clenched tightly. "My name is not 'Oi!'" He snapped. "What do you want? Still stalking me?"

Doumeki merely wanted to ask him if he was all right and lighten the mood. He settled with a rather snarky, "Practicing for the track team? Or do you just like to get all sweaty in the mornings?"

Watanuki's face flushed red. Doumeki found the fiery reaction amusing. "Y-you!" The boy snarled. "You big jerk! Argh! Why do people even like you? Your face is so stupid looking! You stupid faced, big, uncivilized cretin!" Watanuki's arms gestured animatedly around his own face, as if trying without words to emphasize how ugly Doumeki's was.

Doumeki raised one eyebrow and smirked slightly.

Watanuki stomped passed him to the school's door. "Don't you dare laugh at me!"

Doumeki turned and followed him. "I didn't laugh." He certainly felt like it though.

"With your dumb face unable to move more than an inch, you may as well have!"

. . . . . . . . . .

Doumeki watched as Watanuki headed straight for the back of every class they had together. He watched as Watanuki ate alone during lunch by a half dead sakura tree. He watched as Watanuki scribbled his homework down during study all – also alone. He watched as often as he could that day of Watanuki and his lonely state of existence.

During fifth period two boys from the student council started to harass him for a supposed coughing fit he'd had during their English test a week ago. Doumeki felt the dull ache of anger as the boys demanded to know why Watanuki was such a freak while Watanuki desperately tried to both please them by apologizing and to slip away from their harsh questioning quickly. His shoulders were hunched in and his large blue eyes said loudly and clearly that he wished he could melt into the floor and never be seen again.

The moment they released the boy from their clutches and allowed him to run away down the hall Doumeki placed a heavy hand on one shoulder of each of them and squeezed tightly. When they looked up at him there was a hint of fear in their eyes as they took in his stony expression.

"Leave him alone," was all he said.

Each boy winced at the pain in their shoulders. Doumeki had a quiet reputation, but everyone in school knew he was a star athlete in archery and a 5 dan black belt in judo. Even though he was usually gentle and mild mannered, no one wanted to get him angry.

He received hasty nods of agreement. When he let them go they bolted down the hall in the opposite direction that Watanuki had gone.

For a moment Doumeki wondered what was possessing him to suddenly help Watanuki. The boy certainly didn't like him. Doumeki believed it had something to do with the spirits that haunted him. His grandfather Haruka had been an exorcist for years already, so Doumeki was somewhat familiar with the spirit world. He'd never met anyone so closely linked to it and he was very, very curious about it all.

Doumeki made sure he was one of the first students to leave that day so that he could wait by the doors and watch for when Watanuki made his exit. The boy moved rather quickly as Doumeki had come to learn, and walked out of the school's doors merely a minute after Doumeki had. The crowd of students parted before him like water as they usually did as he walked quickly to catch up to the retreating Watanuki. Being as tall and broad-shouldered as he was people usually took notice of him and moved before he even had a chance to walk around.

Doumeki kept a distance between them of about half a block, so as not to draw the boy's attention. Three blocks away from the school and they were the only people left walking down the sidewalk. Watanuki's head kept swiveling back and forth, like he was on the watch for something dreadful. Doumeki narrowed his eyes when Watanuki's shoulders dropped significantly and his pace quickened even more.

It was after they walked the distance of another city block that Watanuki coughed. He coughed just once, but hard and painful sounding. His chest jerked forward and he doubled over, his body vibrating with the force of the choking. He moved quickly then, as though he were wriggling out of an itchy sweater, then quickened his pace to a fast jog. Doumeki kept pace.

After another city block Watanuki's body slammed into the ground hard. There was a sharp cry of pain from him as he was pushed along the unforgiving cement and into the chain link fence. Doumeki ran quickly to catch up the rest of the distance.

Watanuki was choking again, but this time he clearly could not even draw in enough air to cough out. His mouth was open wide and not a breath of air escaped him. Doumeki rushed to his side and once again grabbed the boy's arm.

The touch did seem to work again, for Watanuki suddenly started hacking and coughing violently, but he was at least starting to get breath. Doumeki kneeled beside Watanuki and waited for the fit to end. He watched as Watanuki's hands rubbed gently at his neck. Blood dribbled down to his fingers from the rough cuts on his cheek from where it had been grated against the sidewalk. Finally the coughing ended and Watanuki was merely wheezing, each breath a little stronger than the last.

"You okay?"

Watanuki's deep blue eyes looked up at him, hard and scrutinizing. He then seemed to remember himself and averted his eyes quickly, his features falling. "Fine. What are you doing here, anyway? Don't you have archery practice?"

Doumeki shrugged, his hand still on the boy's arm. "Coach is still sick today," he replied, which was not a lie. It was also very convenient. "Come on, I'll walk you home."

Watanuki stood up and jerked his arm away from Doumeki's grip. "How do make them go away like that, anyway?"

"I come from a family of exorcists."

Watanuki looked at him skeptically, one thin eyebrow raised delicately up. Doumeki mulled over the idea that Watanuki had delicate facial features. His hair was even a little girly, so fine and fly-away that he had stray wisps that would float up in a graceful curve. "Really, exorcists? Cross bearing, holy water using exorcists."

"Shinto exorcists," Doumeki corrected.

Watanuki frowned, but at least he was not protesting, which Doumeki found most agreeable. "Whatever. I live that way," Watanuki pointed to the left. The two crossed the street and walked in the direction that Watanuki had indicated. Doumeki saw an apartment building come in to view.

The atmosphere was quiet and, for Watanuki, tense, as they made their way up the stairs and to the third floor where Watanuki's apartment was located. The boy pulled a set of keys out of his pocket to unlock his door. They jingled faintly like tiny bells in his hand.

In the open hallway in front of his apartment Watanuki spun around and pinned Doumeki with a hearty glare that was quietly ignored. "I'm fine now. Go home."

Doumeki paused as he thought over the demand. "I'm hungry."

The boy spluttered in shock. "W-what! Hungry! Do I look like a personal chef? Go buy your own food! I can't afford to feed you!"

Doumeki thought the statement a little odd. He would have thought that Watanuki's parents would be the ones to purchase the groceries. After all, it was not as though Watanuki had an after school job. "Do you have any tea?"

"Tch!" Watanuki stomped, but he spun around and jammed his key into the lock on the door. He jerked it open and pounded into his home. "Don't track mud in!"

The apartment was tiny, smaller than Doumeki had ever expected it to be. It was one room that had the kitchen, living room and dining all in one space, and it was no bigger than a bedroom. Two smaller rooms were to the left. One was the bathroom and one the bedroom.

Watanuki didn't even have a couch. He had a low table that was on a large tatami mat, two pillows around the table to sit on, and the kitchen. There was no television or other large electronics. It looked like the only luxury that Watanuki had was a small radio that sat on a window sill in the kitchen. The place was immaculate and spotlessly clean.

Doumeki removed his shoes and closed the door behind him. He happened to glance at the door and noticed the small paper spirit ward that had been placed on it. He stared at it for a moment, part of him a little surprised, but another part of him was not shocked at all. His eyes wandered over the other walls and surfaces of the small apartment. The wards were everywhere. "These are my grandfather's wards."

"What?" Watanuki demanded from the kitchen. Doumeki knew he had been heard in the small space and seated himself at the table.

"I said, these are my grandfather's wards. He made them."

"I heard you the first time!" Watanuki groused. He set the teapot on the table along with two cups. Doumeki was also interested to see Watanuki carefully place three plates of cold onigiri on the table. "So you're from that temple, huh? They're the best wards I've been able to find. The ones from the other shrines usually fade away after a couple of days."

Doumeki raised an eyebrow. Wards were supposed to last for years, he was certain. "How long do these last?"

"Between three and six months, depending on my luck."

Doumeki carefully released his breath. Watanuki should have been dead by now, he knew. He sipped his tea. The taste was exquisite. As was the piece of onigiri he shoved in his mouth. He'd never tasted anything so good before. "You live alone here?"

Watanuki took a drink of tea. "My parents died in an accident when I was six."

"Oh."

"Anyway, you should go," Watanuki said. "I've got homework to do and-"

Doumeki dropped his tea cup when Watanuki doubled over in a coughing fit, blue eyes wide with shock. The liquid slipped across the table and dripped to the tatami mat below. Doumeki's hands gripped Watanuki's arms and squeezed, but the fit did not start to subside as before.

"H-how?" Watanuki managed to choke out.

The room came alive with the sound of hissing. Doumeki looked up and saw with a touch of dread that started to pool in his stomach, cold and tight, that the paper wards were burning away.

"Deamon," Watanuki rasped. His body convulsed, and he tumbled in to Doumeki's arms.

A shadow in the corner of his eye. Doumeki turned to look and saw a brief glimpse of something awful. He'd only ever seen the drawings his grandfather had made in his books, and even then it had been a bit frightening to behold. "A Hell Hound," he said.

Watanuki's head bobbed up and down as he coughed in agreement, for he could not speak.