Both Angel and Shura are waaay too OOC here...sigh.

There's no graphic lemon here, perhaps later...IDK. This is rated M mostly for the language i.e. profanities XD

Sorry that the way I write this story makes you confused :)

Part 2: Of Frustrating Headache and Crazy Woman

His head hurt like hell.

Arthur Auguste Angel didn't remember when he ever had this level of a killer headache in his entire life—not even when he tasted his first booze. He had a rather strong tolerance for alcohol, he supposed, that he didn't get easily intoxicated even after some rows of the strongest liquor he ever had a chance to taste.

Groaning, he got up from his bed sluggishly and instantly shivered when the cool morning air hit his body. His naked body, he suddenly realized, alarmed. He looked down at his body and found that, indeed, he was stark naked behind his thin, expensive silk sheet.

Blinking, Angel tried to rake his blurry mind, just what exactly did he do last night that he ended up slumbering with nothing but his sheet. However, his eyes suddenly caught sight of something slipped behind his sheet. Something red that, in normal situation, couldn't and shouldn't be there. He shakily reached and slowly pulled the thing out from beneath the sheet only to be utterly and completely horrified.

It was a red bikini.

A painfully familiar red bikini with ruffles.

A painfully familiar red bikini that belonged to the one and only Kirigakure Shura.

He dropped the thing as if it burned his hand.

Kirigakure Shura, Angel bemused, clasping a shaky and sweaty hand over his gaping mouth, still in complete and utter shock. Kirigakure Shura…she…

Oh…oh, God… now he remembered… last night, he and Shura were…

Angel slapped his forehead.

"…My Holy God…" Angel muttered desperately, dragging his palms over his face. "…My Holy God, what the fuck have I done?"

Shura and I… how seemingly impossible it sounds; the fact is… it happened last night. Undoubtedly, alcohol took major part in it, but still…

Angel groaned.

And uncharacteristically blushed as he recalled the last night's memory.

Japan was so different from Italy that Angel was slightly baffled when he firstly stepped his foot in this country.

He rarely had business in this branch, which was normally handled by the ever-annoying Mephisto Pheles, but the Pope had given him an order to stay put in Japan and watch over things. He knew that those things the Holy Man mentioned included those half demon twins and Mephisto Pheles.

Despite his alliance with the Order, convincing promise, and somehow bold (preposterous, Angel himself dubbed) statement about using the elder Okumura twin as Vatican weapon, Grigori still didn't fully trust Mephisto. The man was a demon after all, a tricky and clever one at that. It was just wise not to fully swallow whatever things he had spewed. Angel knew just that, he never trusted the goateed man since their first meeting anyway.

The twins, however, were another set of problems.

Angel still remembered the event when he had to go to Mephisto's academy to retrieve the boy. Okumura Rin could have passed as an ordinary boy, he pondered—except for his demonic lineage and power. That made him as dangerous and threatening as one high-level demon let rampaging himself. And he was one, since he was Satan's son and possessing power similar like his old man, albeit weaker.

The boy's temper was another additional case though. Angel chuckled cruelly. The boy was stubborn and rogue, with harsh mouth and uncouth demeanor. He didn't regret what he did to the boy due to his indecorum before the Grigori at that time. The boy had high-speed healing ability anyway.

Okumura Yukio, however, was plainly different from his twin. The boy-teacher was soft-spoken and behaved well. He was also a genius, excelling in both academic and exorcist's educations just in a couple of years, or so he had heard.

He was strangely born as human, while Rin was born as half human/demon. Angel had always thought this as a strange coincidence; though the knowledge that the twins were fraternal made him somehow understand the fact. He supposed that Yukio was more than just mere human boy—if his demonic potency was somehow hidden and yet to be uncovered. He guessed that the Pope thought similarly, thus ordered him to keep an eye on them.

The young Paladin scrunched his nose in disgust when he arrived from the dimensional door, right at the basement of the True Cross Academy—only to be welcomed by the Principal himself. Mephisto Pheles wore his trademark Cheshire grin Angel had become to hate so much and regarded him with exaggerating gestures of twirling and bowing.

The older man (demon, Angel sneered inwardly) blabbered that he felt honored to be able to host the Paladin himself, that he was glad Angel could visit his humble academy (humble, my ass, Angel mocked inwardly). The blond-haired man, however, almost instantly tuned the rambling out and spread his sight over the place. He noticed only one familiar face amongst his welcoming group though, aside from Mephisto himself.

Igor Neuhaus stood silently and gloomily at the corner, gazing at him with impassive eyes. Angel narrowed his eyes as he loftily reciprocated his gaze. The older man was unfazed though. Scowling, Angel turned away from him and his gaze. Somehow, he had to wonder what Neuhaus saw in Mephisto that he became so loyal and obedient towards the demon. Angel knew that Neuhaus immensely hated demons and Satan, so he just couldn't understand the man's behavior.

Angel had to halt in steps when he heard Mephisto referring to Kirigakure Shura.

"Pardon? What's this about Kirigakure Shura?"

Mephisto paused from his one-sided blabbering and blinked at him. If he actually realized that Angel had ignored him from the beginning, he didn't quite show it in his face. Instead, he smirked lazily.

"Nothing. It's just that I said that I didn't tell Kirigakure-sensei about your arrival. Only few teachers here know about your stay. Of course, I didn't tell Okumura-sensei." The demon's smirk grew wider. "The two could have alerted Okumura-kun if they knew. It would be inconvenient for you, am I right?"

Angel frowned at the man and slowly nodded. "Of course. I'm …grateful for your thoughtfulness."

He ignored the slight pang within his heart from the fact that he wouldn't meet Shura eye-to-eye. The woman hated his gut anyway.

After some exhausting time spent in Mephisto's office listening to his excessive blabbering (about what, Angel didn't really care, honestly), the annoying demon eventually ordered one of his attendants to show the Paladin his room.

Angel supposed that Mephisto would dispose him in one of his luxurious suites within his tower. But he had to suppress his bubbling anger when the attendant, quite reluctantly, showed him the way towards the outer side of the academy i.e. to the city itself.

And upon seeing his place-where-he-had-to-spend-his-time-when-he-was-in-Japan-to-be, Angel couldn't help growling in pure venom.

"…What's the meaning of this?"

The attendant flinched at his harsh tone.

Shakily, he replied, "I-I-I am very sorry, Sir. But Sir Pheles has booked your name on one of the hotels outside the academy. He-he reasoned that, since both Kirigakure-sensei and Okumura-sensei, not to mention Okumura-kun, have already known you, and labeled you as their adversary; it will be quite troublesome if they, by any chance, accidentally see you scouting around the academy. Sir Pheles also said that he has already ordered some fellows to watch over their movements. The group that is responsible for this task has already been told to report firstly and directly to you, Sir. Lastly, about your hotel room… of course Sir Pheles has prepared everything for your convenience, Sir Paladin. Though…" he trailed off as he fearfully glanced at the furious Paladin and the hotel back and forth. "…you see, Sir Paladin… Sir Pheles is a bit, well, running out of money at that time..."

Oh, the hotel was quite decent, really. However, for Angel, it was too shabby for his liking.

And he obviously didn't like the obnoxious pink and orange confetti—it was freaking hanging on the outer walls, dammit!—that the hotel used as its main decoration.

Speak about Mephisto and his weird taste in fashion…

Angel didn't know whether to pummel the poor guy right here and now, or to march back to the blasted demon's office and yell the living shit out of him for being such a cheapskate bastard as he was. He did none though as he resigned to glaring heatedly at the whimpering attendant.

"…Tell Mephisto, he will get it from me later." The attendant shivered as he saw the murderous glint in the Paladin's blue eyes. "As for the hotel room, tell them to cancel it. I think I will look for my own place to stay, thank you very much. The Vatican has already disposed some expense anyway."

He lied of course. The Vatican didn't really dispose him some expense, except for just a few. He had to spend his own money for his hotel. Though, he made a mental note to send a memo to the Intelligence Department at Vatican, asking them to 'thoroughly hack into Mephisto's personal account (the actual one, Angel reminded himself, God forbid that the demon could create money from nothing… in second thought, perhaps he could… Angel inwardly cursed) and steal some of his wealth'.

He then shooed the attendant off—the poor guy literally dashed away from him right after he was dismissed. Angel sighed heavily. He was somewhat relieved that he had decided to travel light, only Calibur and one suitcase. He was also glad that he chose not to wear his normal uniform.

For now, he opted to wear practical clothes: white button-up shirt with crème-colored coat and black slack. Black leather shoes completed his appearance. Calibur was strapped safely on his right hip. Thankfully, the demon sword was silent this time. No matter how much he adored his sword (and vice versa), Angel found himself often annoyed by its screeching voice and coquettish tone.

He found himself a hotel to stay not too long after—a high-class hotel with luxurious suites, bar and lounge, pub, and such. He rented a suite—not an overly luxurious president one, he actually preferred a simple deluxe one—and decided to take a nap. He had stored Calibur inside his dimensional storage when he stepped into the hotel, for the safety and secrecy purpose—he didn't want to encourage those clueless people to suspect him as some kind of terrorist after all. He hated to do it though since Calibur always nagged him whenever he stored the sword away, and he hated to fend off its fussy complains.

His nap, however, was interrupted by a sudden crash nearby.

His eyes caught a sight of his duffel bag. Angel cussed.

His bag was in complete disarray. He guessed that Shura must be the one who was responsible for this.

He slid down from his bed and, being mindful of his nakedness, he then wrapped his silk sheet around his waist. Crouching near his messy bag, he realized that one of his formal starched white shirts was missing.

Shura must have stolen his shirt.

Angel's eyes narrowed in confusion and slight exasperation. Why would she…oh…


He blushed something horrid. Again.

Oh, yes, of course…how come he became so dumb…


No wonder the woman took so much effort to rampage his bag just for some cover.

Angel practically jumped from his room's balcony onto the nearby rooftop.

Calibur conveniently unsheathed, he leaped from the roof towards an alley below. His nose crinkled in disgust—he could literally smell the foul odor from those rotten Gehenna dwellers.

When his feet eventually touched the ground, he cussed loudly as he almost slipped on the remnants of something slimy. Angel didn't want to think about what that something was and continued his way towards the ruckus.

He was suddenly aware that there was a battle occurring at that time.

Angel slipped around a corner and hid behind the wall. He tried to catch a glimpse of the battle. He raked over his mind as he tried to recognize the blurry silhouette of the one who was currently fighting the huge lizard-like demon. He didn't recall that either he or Mephisto did order some exorcists to get stand by on this particular corner of the city.

A blurry sight of something red caught his attention. It was a mass of hair, fiery red in hue, tied in somewhat familiar sloppy ponytail. Angel blinked.

The one who was fighting against the huge demon was Kirigakure Shura.

Astonished, the man watched silently as Shura evaded, dodged, and attacked the demon. Her movements were swift and efficient. Angel would dare to say that she was graceful and elegant, for the lack of words.

His attention immediately focused on her most significant trait—her bosom. Involuntarily blushing, Angel cussed softly as he watched those specific parts of her anatomy bouncing and jiggling with each of her rushed movement.

It wasn't that he was unfamiliar with how little Shura was always wearing from time to time—hell, he thought he was kind of immune from that by now. Normally, he would ignore her and her, ahem, assets. However, now that he actually had the time to truly watch and observe her, Angel suddenly got an epiphany, a redundant one but at that moment, he didn't care.

Kirigakure Shura was one hell of a beautiful and sexy woman.

Angel felt like slapping his face. He didn't really think about her in that way, did he? Oh yeah, he really did.

A sudden pained cry jolted him back from his musing. Alerted, Angel looked up only to see that the fiery haired woman had her right arm stabbed by some protruding metal from broken concretes nearby. He watched, somehow horrified; while Shura struggled to free her bleeding arm from the said metal …and have the former demon dashed towards her direction.

She froze, mortified, and then slumped in resignation.

Angel froze. And then he snapped back as reality slapped his face, hard. The woman was going to die if he didn't quickly interfere and save her!

Quietly chanting the spell of his signature attack, Angel leaped from his hiding spot. Calibur in hand, he swiftly moved before the fallen woman; effortlessly shielding her from the incoming assault. The rampaging demon roared as it slammed its gigantic body on him, only to be repelled by some kind of invincible barrier.

Angel smirked menacingly as he activated his formerly chanted attack. He could feel his excitement peaking and he murmured at his trustworthy sword. "Ready, Calibur?"

The effeminate-voiced sword screeched in cruel fascination. "As always, dear Arthur~"

Angel's smirk grew wider. "Let's do it then."

A blast of blindingly golden light exploded from Calibur, following his calm and steady spell of "Zodiac Slash". The blasting golden light zoomed upward, resembling the huge sword itself, and thrust through the demon's body. The lizard-like demon let out a deafening roar, before it staggered backward and fell to the ground with a loud thump. It didn't move again afterward. Its miniscule minions almost immediately scattered away and vacated the spot after their leader's apparent demise.

Angel emerged from the fading golden light; still holding Calibur in his right hand. He gazed coldly at the rapidly dissolving demon's carcass when he heard strained gasp from behind.

He glanced at her shocked face and had to stifle his chuckle at her gaping expression.

"What's this with that pathetic form of yours, Kirigakure?"

His callous words jerked Shura from her flabbergasted state. She scowled at him, face somewhat flushed bright red; either from anger or something else, Angel didn't know.

The Paladin found that he had to blink just to make sure that he didn't see some illusion. Kirigakure Shura doesn't blush—at least not the Kirigakure Shura he had known for his entire life.

But then he caught a sniff from the air and found, amidst the horrid stench of those Gehenna dwellers, an unmistakable sour and sweet scent of liquor. He frowned distastefully and turned his eyes on the woman before him.

"…You're drunk."

Shura scoffed, the slight blush (it was from her intoxicated state, Angel vehemently reminded later) still evident on her beautiful face.

"Am not."

"Yes, you are." Angel growled. The woman was always drunk—typical. She was infamous for her fondness towards alcoholic beverages after all. And the scandalous mishaps she often did whenever she was intoxicated.

"Am not!" she growled back and tried to stand up, before let out a pained whimper as her jolting movement made her aware that she was still stuck with metal rod protruding from her right arm. Blood rapidly gushed from the open wound and Angel found himself uncharacteristically concerned for the woman.

"Stay still, Shura. I will help you out." He told her neutrally, masking his worry at the sudden paleness on her face.

Shura was silent aside from her harsh panting, her face sweaty and pale. She tried her hard to cover her pained expression, but wince and flinch every now and then betrayed her worsened condition. She didn't seem to acknowledge his words, but Angel knew that she heard him.

The Paladin edged near her and was inwardly glad that she didn't shy away from him or even yell at him. Shura, however, averted her gaze from him and proceeded to let him do whatever he ought to do to help her.

Angel sighed and crouched beside her, carefully watching her disheveled appearance through his golden bangs. Aside from her stab-wound, Shura had a couple of scratches and bruises. He took a serious attention on the way her left ankle was in an odd shape and he concluded that she probably had twisted or, worse, broken it.

Being extra careful and uncharacteristically gentle, Angel began to extract the metal rod from her wounded arm. Shura hissed out in pain at the slightest motion, though she immediately bit her lip to prevent any further sound to escape. Angel mentally cursed after examining their current situation. The metal rod had too far gone through her arm he had to cut it off to ease his way. This would be quite nasty to handle.

"…Brace yourself. I will cut the metal off for easy extraction." He warned her.

Shura turned her head to look at him, a scowl firmly plastered on her face. "Do it fast."

Angel sneered mockingly. "Don't order me around, Shura."

"Che, whatever, Baldy."

He chose to brush her snide retort aside and went back to his task-on-hand. He brandished his sword and swiftly swung the huge claymore to cut the metal. The rod was effortlessly cut, but not without its jarring momentum. Shura forgot to stem her voice and screamed out in pain.



They glared at each other heatedly for some times, but the tension was somehow broken by Shura's sudden sway. Angel snapped out from his temporary anger and quickly caught the weakened woman. He cussed as he saw her bloodied arm—and the still protruding metal—and shook her shoulder none-too-gently.

"Shura! Dammit, Shura, don't fall unconscious yet!"

Weak chuckle could be heard from the said woman. Angel glared at her, though his glare softened when he saw her pale and sweaty face. She wore a grim smile with half-lidded eyes gazing unfocusedly at his direction.

"…Heh, never thought… in a million years… that I'll see ye so worried… over me, Baldy."

Angel grimaced. "Shura, you're slurring. And I'm not Baldy nor even worried for you."

She wheezed. "…Huh? Liar…"

Alarmed, Angel saw that she was bordering to blacking out. He shook her again, a bit roughly this time—resulting in her pained hiss. "Shura! Stay awake, dammit!"

"…Fuck, that hurt! …Shit…" her head lolled backward, effectively alarming Angel. Her words afterward, however, slightly eased his panicked state.

"…Shit, my head hurts… musta've been the liquor, damn right…"

Angel blinked at her, un-amused.

"…Yeah, damn right."

He made a quick work to extract the metal from her arm—he noted that she bit her lip in order not to cry out in blatant pain—and used his handkerchief to bandage her wound. The cloth was quickly damp in blood so Arthur decided to carry her to his hotel room for further treatment.

Not to mention, the passing bystanders who heard the commotion quickly filled the alley. The last thing Angel wanted was for some ignorant civilians to sniff around stuffs they didn't have the right to see and hear. Blaming it to bureaucracy, one of many things Angel hated was paperwork.

Shura groaned in stubborn refusal when she felt her body being hauled to stand up. She winced as her left ankle throbbed painfully, reminding her of its twisted state. She wobbled unsteadily when she tried to balance herself on just one leg—only to be caught in two strong arms.

She stiffened.

"…L-let me go, Baldy." She darkly muttered, somehow unaware of her stuttering.

Angel smirked triumphantly, ignoring the pleasant feeling caused by her soft yet quite toned body against his.

"Not a chance. You're coming with me."

Shura bristled up as she tried to simultaneously yell at him and push him away, but her fatigue immediately caught up with her. She fainted right into his waiting arms.

Angel sighed heavily.

Tonight would be a long, long night for him.

The blonde Paladin face-palmed.

Oh, he hated it when his intuition was right.

That night had been a long, long night, both for him and Shura.

…Not that he regretted their mutual act, though.

Angel growled, utterly and royally annoyed—and blushing like mad. He, the Great Paladin himself, was rendered into blushing and behaving like some love-struck teenager. It was unacceptable. It was completely, totally unacceptable.

Snarling angrily, Angel stood up and marched towards his bathroom. He snatched some clean clothes and decided to take a bath. He felt an impending doom a.k.a. one hell of a headache reigning over him right now. He just had to take some aspirin later.

He must see Shura once more.

He had to talk with the fiery haired woman considering this …problem.