Well, he's done himself well," Kiriya, shrugged. Still in Keima's humble home, he turned to the couch, gave a single clap, then another and another, to the person finding herself comfortable on the couch.

"Hmm," the transparent screen in front of her closed, and Nikaido turned around, arm placing on the comfort object, to him, "Well, you did even better, 'Sensei'. That act of yours could get you an award. And he gave me tons of problems now, kissing in the middle of the Shibuya populace..."

"You told me act arrogant..." he said, "To antagonize the boy, to try and stop him so that he would bear the brunt of the pressure. Is that so that he could truly unlock his potential of being the God of Love?"
"Well, yes, that was what I wanted to do. But of course there's the rust he accumulated during that one month of being in a real relationship. Something multiplayer, I suppose."
"And we planned all this. Me telling my Shinobi to wait outside- yes, I told them little about this romancing- And your devil, Haqua, getting ready to transport him so far into Tokyo. I do say, such plan organization impressed me, but, on second thought, how did you know there was a blemish in his plans?"

"You could say that I've been confiscating one time too many his pastimes."

"But," Kiriya paced slightly to her, "What made you think he had this hidden potential within him?"

She gave a giggle before turning to him with a small smile, "Tell me, how do you know your students have any potential at all?"

"Teacher's instinct?"

"Maybe, or it could just a personal connection. What did you give Asuka, anyway?"

"The mission? Well, it has something to do with Hebijo..."

"The evil ninja school? Yes, I am very interested in them too."

"You can't be implying-"

"Yes. There's something in them. And Keima might get involved too..."

"And Rin?"

"No, I feel no presence within her. If there was, we might need you in it."

"Hah, funny. I have to say, I do not go into relationships with former students; and I'm too old."

"Yeah. And I'm a devil. What can you do about that?"

The two only snickered, before they both disappeared: Kiriya in a flurry of smoke, and Nikaido with a sharp tug of her hagoroma, the utility of invisibility cloaking her till nonexistence. Keima shall never know of this simple chat, and similar colloquies of before. But there are times when silence are diamonds, and speech is food from Hell.

It seemed that they forgot about him.

"Hah," Keima sighed as he walked out of the class, test and writer's dexterity having drained him of some strength. Cleaning his new glasses, a pleasant image of remembrance, he spoke, "That was a waste of my time." And although he seemed to concern agitation with simple unobtainable wastes, his mind had continued its constant relay of what he had bore witness to, and of future captures. Surely, one more Shinobi of this school must have a Spirit lingering within them. Jubilance after Asuka's capture- which leaded to a near-district wide wiping in the memories of most- was but a blank sheet in his mind- a large contrast from his test papers which one should notice to have much intelligence scribbled on their faces.

But there was a small glow in the emotions within him; and it all stemmed from a message mailed into his newly replaced PFP. True, he missed PFP Number 053: Charlie, but that sadness shall be conveyed with written text in another day. What was mailed to him was a simple message from Nikaido:

'Congrats, Onii-Chan.'

Walking down the hallway with bag slinging on shoulder and PFP on the other's hand, he whistled a tone of pleasantry while the voices of teachers he found of no importance spoke beside him. The test-no, more accurately, tests had taken a day's worth of school, and he found it little a privilege to leave at such circumstances; at this time, the congestion for homely comfort was but air resistance, and the many school bodies held their pupils back in the building for the last period of the day; and that by itself excluded the clubs.

There were many questions he himself found unanswerable as of the moment. Like, how had he found Asuka? Back then, it felt as if he had gone into a world of another; the mystery of it all shook him not as lightly as he had expected. Maybe Haqua could open an enquiry of the subject, and find a comprehendible answer for the mystery. And this God-like state he had plunged into. The sheer audacity he found himself blessed in was a perplex of impossible levels. And how he reviewed nearly all the games he had ever played in his mind in just meet seconds. Was this... perfect memory? True, with this, it would be a great boost in ability for him.

"Hmm?" a pleasant ping of the PFP took his attention off the screen's contents, and he shrunk his game to find that he had a new message.

He had, by reading that message, been burdened with the afternoon shopping. Haqua had unfortunately ran out of ingredients behind her kitchen, and she, time begging to be used for housework, had no extra hand for the grocery. So, why not ask Keima, whose trail to home always forced to him a hefty scrapping of the greengrocer's building. Surely he had time to pick up some miso and rice, and perhaps a cabbage or those miniature tomatoes most associated with grapes?

He only replied with a sigh before playing his games again. The journey to comfort seemed a little longer than he recalled.

Their minds seemed orthodox in wavelength. And Asuka could only breathe out in deep distress at this fact. She had been, even out of denial and disagreement, chosen by the three for an errand in the nearby greengrocer involving a restock of basic necessities like grain, greens and a hefty pound of the sea's bounty. Her body seemed to sigh at the usage of its two feet; a repetitive feel in the steps and items on the list only served to create this tiredness in her muscles that urged her to return home for further discussion. But one question.

When did she do this before? Was this not her first time in a month or so?

Hunting her way through the supermarket, she found the cabbages she needed, and begin to examine each and every one with a keen eye. Again, this wave of repetitive-borne monotone slowed her, and she asked herself why she seemed to find annoyance in this errand. Pushing this emotion away, she reached out to grab a large daikon, but, feeling the familiar skin of another human, pulled away with haste and an embarrassed complexion. The other did the same.

"S-sorry," she muttered an turned to the mystery person. A boy with glasses- her age, she presumed- only stared back at her now uncomfortable face with this air of incomprehensible awe.

"U-um, can you stop staring?"

"Ah, sorry," the boy turned away, cheeks a dash of red. Asuka then did the same, turning back to her task and placing a daikon into the plastic basket on her arm. All was silent at the moment as the time passed. No noteworthy events gave itself recognition around the store, and there were no sounds other than the tumbling of large vegetables as they browsed for clean, ripe delicacies. This strange atmosphere between the two had her raise questions in her mind. But although her vocals begged for conversation, her heart strained and stopped her from even mouthing a word. There was this unusual aura, a discomfort of sorts, around him, and she found the question of 'have we met before' such a potent counter to this uncomfortable awkwardness. And so, breath deep and calming, she sai-
"Hey, have you heard?"

The boy spoke before she did, and she froze. It was seconds after before she shook the stiffening of muscles away and replied, "H-heard what?"

"There's this rumor about 'ninjas' protecting the city, or something."

Realizing the shocking contents he spoke of, her hand slowly reached for her swords; could this man be an enemy, she would have no hesitation to silence him- for what normal man would know the darkened, secretive army of Japan?

"Well, if there are ninjas below the roof right now, I think I'll feel safe. Don't you think so, with them jumping around and watching us on the roof of buildings, like the Dark Knight?"

Her eyes widened, muscle contractions dispersing in the wake of the words. Her mouth left a small gape trailing the gasp leaving her mouth- a denotation of the expected turning its tracks for the unpredictable to pass without any problems. The mere topic of ninjas, questionable in the settings the boy had come into for it to be brought up, had brought up the almost-reflexive nature of defense within Asuka, but this positivity of the subject came as quite a shock to her. The cliché subtlety of it all threw her body into a state of twitch reflex; the all-too-quiet peace of this store, the loneliness of it all, and the predominant knowledge that she herself was a Shinobi was all she needed for preparation of an attack. But then, it might just be a coincidental flow of events: that this boy had tasted the delicacy of rumors, and, curious peaking to that of a cat's, shared with her the enticing bit of fiction- or fact- as an effort to understand the growing presence of it in the roaring city streets. The presence of such an interest rarely fails to capture the imagination of men.

"Don't you think so too?" she noticed his smile turn to her, and, mind confused, she asked:

"Think what?"

"That you feel safer when they're around- that is, if they are. Maybe of they're real, they're working really hard to protect the whole of Japan, right?"

There was a short silence, before Asuka's composure returned; she gave a nod, formed a smile on her glowing face and cooed, "Yeah, you might be right."

Keima gave a light raise of the eyebrow, small enough to miss, in response, scoffing at the flower he grew with a near-visible smile.

The capture had truly, as it had before started, ended. But that did not mark the end of Love's sponsored marathon. On that same hour, Kiriya, with time to spare, passed Keima.

I know I forgot to explain about how he could go through Shinobi Barrier. Let's just say it has something to do with the devils and their connection with the Shinobi. Other than that reminder, I thank all of you who read through this fanfiction till the end. You all have been a wonderful audience, and I hope you stick around for my nine sequels. Seriously, NINE. WHICH I DO NOT HAVE MOTIVATION TO DO... I hope I regain this 'motivation' back one day, though, so I hope you guys can bear with it until that time.

Now I bow, and let the curtains loose. Goodnight, my beautiful audience!