Hedonism.

Summary: Hyoudou Issei was not a pervert. He was a hedonist. Most people would glance upon the two titles and believe that they were one and the same. They were wrong. They were very, very wrong. Mature Content Warning. A darker, realistic take on the DxD verse.

|-|Hedonism|-|

Father and mother argued at dinner again. Father's nostrils flared like the angry bulls she was used to seeing on Saturday morning cartoons. His face went purple, and she could see the lines on the side of his head that went bigger and smaller whenever he entered this state. Veins, were what they were called, as her friend told her. His fists slammed unto the table, rattling the dishes and silver cutleries. Her fork fell unto the floor, and she ducked her head low to pick it up just as his bellows shook the walls.

The silverware was comfortable in her hand, though she would have preferred chopsticks. Her friend used chopsticks, and most everyone else she knew used chopsticks, but her family was different. Her reflection in the mirror reminded her of the difference, her light-brown hair and purple eyes reminded her constantly of the difference. Purple, like father's face…

"How many times dear? How many times?"

"There's no harm in it." Mother rebutted. "They're just kids dear. He's just a boy."

"That boy," Father spat out the word. "He –"

"He's what?"

"You know what he is."

"Those were just rumors. The police investigated and never found anything concrete."

"That just makes me even more worried. If he can hide the evidence at his age, what will he be capable of doing five, ten years from now?" He shook his head. "I don't want my daughter anywhere near him."

"Touji, I think you're being unreasonable."

"Irina."

She rose from under the table. Her silverware in hand. Slowly, she picked into her green peas. "Yes, tou-san?"

"I don't want you going over to the Hyoudou boy's house anymore."

"He's my friend."

"Play with your other friends Irina."

"I don't have other friends. The girls call me a boy and make fun of me. The boys don't want to play with me because I'm a girl and girls are gross."

Father's face churned like he'd eaten something bitter. "Irina…"

"You hear her, Touji? Can you hear your daughter? Do you want to take away the only friend she has just because he's a bit… rough around the edges?"

Father's shoulders slumped. "I… I don't dear. It's just… that boy… there's something that just feels… wrong about him."

"That's just your paternal instincts talking dear," Mother kissed father on the cheek. "I know you want to keep our little girl safe and innocent, so boys must be the enemy."

Father muttered something and she knew the argument was done. Dinner proceeded with light chatter about school and work, although the details of father's work were never openly mentioned. She knew he worked with the Church. They went to services frequently, and she was proficient in the knowledge of her verses and bible. She knew the ten commandments by heart, the story of creation, and all the wonders of God that existed within his holy book. Her father never explained how he got money from the church, but she knew it could not be from offerings and tithes. That was God's money. Angels would come down and take the money to God, and he would in turn bless those who gave generously.

Her friend said it was all a big scam, and the money went into the pockets of the church.

She wanted to ask her father, but she was afraid. What if God got angry at her? God could smite her for those thoughts. He could punish her father too, if she were not careful. So, she chose to keep those thoughts to herself.

"Irina, it's getting late. Get ready for bed."

"Yes, kaa-san."

She made sure to brush her teeth, from top to bottom, diligently for thirty minutes. Flossing afterwards, to make sure they were clean. She stared at the bathroom's mirror, smiling wide. They were white. But not as white as his. He had the whitest pair of teeth. They were shiny. So shiny, that she was dazzled every time he smiled. Something unsettled her stomach every time he smiled. Her chest felt odd every time he smiled.

"Now, Irina-chan," Father was calmer now, smiling as he brought his book with him. "Where did we stop?"

"The man with the donkey… umm… Baala?"

"Ah, Balaam." Father nodded. "I remember."

He tucked her into bed, and sat on the edge. With a flick, the nightlight came on, and he opened the bible, sitting, and clearing his throat.

"So, Balaam got up in the morning, saddled his donkey and went with the Moabite God was very angry when he went, and the angel of the Lord stood in the road to oppose him. Balaam was riding on his donkey, and his two servants were with him. When the donkey saw the angel of the Lord standing in the road with a drawn sword in his hand, it turned off the road into a field. Balaam beat it to get it back on the road."

She listened, attentively, and with as much excitement as she could. "Animals can see angels?"

Father nodded. "Yes Irina-chan. Animals can always tell when the angels are nearby. But we humans, well, some of us aren't so gifted Irina. So, remember, if a dog or cat seems excited or afraid of something that you can't see, it means an angel might be nearby. And if that happens, what should you do?"

"Recite my verses?"

"Exactly Irina-chan. Recite your verses, so the angel will know you are one of the Lord's children."

Father lightly touched her head. "Now, where was I?"

"Then the angel of the Lord stood in a narrow path through the vineyards, with walls on both sides. When the donkey saw the angel of the Lord, it pressed close to the wall, crushing Balaam's foot against it. So he beat the donkey again."

"Poor donkey."

Father smiled.

"Then the angel of the Lord moved on ahead and stood in a narrow place where there was no room to turn, either to the right or to the left. When the donkey saw the angel of the Lord, it lay down under Balaam, and he was angry and beat it with his staff."

"Not again!"

"Ah, butwait for it Irina-chan." Father said, continuing the scriptures. "Then the Lord opened the donkey's mouth, and it said to Balaam, "What have I done to you to make you beat me these three times?"

"The donkey spoke?"

Father nodded. "The donkey spoke. All things are possible with God Irina-chan."

"So, Balaam answered the donkey, "You have made a fool of me! If only I had a sword in my hand, I would kill you right now." And the donkey said to Balaam, "Am I not your own donkey, which you have always ridden, to this day? Have I been in the habit of doing this to you?"

""No," Balam said. Then the Lord opened Balaam's eyes, and he saw the angel of the Lord standing in the road with his sword drawn. So he bowed low and fell facedown. The angel of the Lord asked him, "Why have you beaten your donkey these three times? I have come here to oppose you because your path is a reckless one before me. The donkey saw me and turned away from me these three times. If it had not turned away, I would certainly have killed you by now, but I would have spared it.""

"The angel would have killed Balaam?"

"Yes dear," her father said. "Remember, angels are our guardians as long as we are the lord's children and do his will. But they do not protect us if we are not his children. That is why we must never stray from the Lord's Will. Do you understand Irina-chan? Do you understand why it is wrong to disobey God?"

"I – I do, tou-san."

"You'll never do anything against God's will, would you Irina-chan?"

She shook her head vehemently. "No, tou-san. Never."

Father's shoulders seemed to be less stiff after she told him that. He was happy, and she liked it when father was happy. He leaned in to give her a kiss on the forehead, before closing the bible and rising from the bed.

"Goodnight, Irina-chan."

"Goodnight, Tou-san."

The nightlight clicked off. The door closed shut, and she tucked herself deeper still into the bed. Father would not sleep this night. She was certain of it. The living room blared noise from the TV news station for two hours. Fifteen minutes after that, the TV went quiet. The door to her room opened, silently, as someone, most likely mother, checked up on her to make sure she was asleep. The light from the corridor would peak in for about ten seconds, and vanish as the door would squeeze shut and click.

Father and Mother would talk again, about something. They never agreed on what it was, but she knew it was something that had to do with the church. The argument would last shortly, and then –

She threw off her covers, moving to the window, and staring down. Father emerged from the house, clad in weird priest robes. The family sword that lay in the living room lay strung across his back, and ever silently like a cat, he would make his way off into the night.

As silently as she could, she opened her own window. Shuddering from the blast of cold night breeze, she clambered out, delicately, as softly as she could manage. Tip-toeing across the ledges with as much balance as she could, she made her way over to the tree. Climbing the tree, she furthered herself until she reached the roof of the next building. The roof of the next house.

Her chest sung upon seeing him there. Sitting on the roof, in a hoodie and pair of shorts, his eyes turned to the sky. Dark brown locks of hair, a familiar rolled parchment in his hand, she approached him, shuddering from the cold, and took a place beside him.

Without a word, he reached to his left, grabbing a large, oversized blanket. Without a word, he dragged her closer to him, tossing the blanket over both of them, as the warmth of his legs touched the frigidness of hers, and sent shivers racing through them. He brought her even closer, closer still until their bodies were pressed against each other, as her body siphoned off his warmth and her nostrils drew in his scent. There was that particular scent he had with him, the scent of the thing idly resting in between his index and middle finger.

"How did you know I'd come?"

"I didn't."

"You brought the blanket this time."

"Don't want you to freeze again."

She watched him put the object into his mouth. With a drag, smoke exhaled through his nostrils, and she felt him relax, softly. Without a word, he gestured the object to her, slowly. She hesitated at it.

"I..."

He didn't pressure her. With a light shrug of his shoulders, he put it back to his lips, took a soft drag, and exhaled more smoke.

"My father says smoking is bad."

"It's cannabis sativa."

"It's bad."

"Smoking cigarettes is bad."

"Isn't that what you're doing."

"No." he said. "This is cannabis."

She scrunched up her nose. "What's the difference?"

"Cigarettes contain nicotine. Nicotine is addictive and the pleasure gained from each cigarette smoked is marginally little compared to the cost paid. The main psychoactive part of cannabis is tetrahydrocannabinol, or THC. The pleasure-to-cost ratio of THC is lower, with reduced risks of dependence and addiction."

She didn't understand what he was talking about. "You're using big words again."

"Sorry," he said. "Cigarettes are bad. Cannabis is better."

"Better, not good?"

"Everything has a side-effect; a negative."

"What about eating?" She asked. "Eating is good. There's no negative."

He took another drag, exhaling more smoke from his nostrils. "People with allergies." He rose a finger. "People with ulcers." He rose a second finger. "Anorexics." He rose a third finger. "Weight gain." A fourth finger. "And poop." The fifth finger.

Brown eyes landed, and searched her. "Do you like to poop?"

Heat rushed to her face. "Y-you can't just ask something like that."

"Does sitting on the toilet and clenching your butt give you pleasure?"

"Ew!" she laughed. "That's gross."

"Should I call you Miss-Poopy-Pleasure-Face from now on?"

"You wouldn't."

"You're right," he acquiesced. "Too many syllables."

She shook her head, and punched him lightly in the ribs. "I hate you."

"A lot of people do."

She wished he was joking. Wished he was exaggerating. Though she knew better than most. The way most kids in the neighborhood would stop playing and leave whenever he appeared. The way some adults would whisper and talk about all sorts of naughty things about him whenever he was not present, but would immediately sound happy and pleased to see him once he was nearby.

"Why?"

"Because I don't care." His gaze was far-away. His eyes were half-lidded, and, she could see it, slowly forming, the ghosts of a smile on his face. "I do what will bring me the most pleasure, that is all."

His arm wrapped around her waist, and drew her closer. Her chest was loud. So loud. His eyes were deep. So deep. They were getting closer. Closer. She froze. She could hear father's voice. "You'll never do anything against God's will, would you Irina-chan?"

She knew little about it. This action. The sensation of someone's lips touching hers. All she knew, was that it was something reserved for married couples. Father and mother did it all the time. She saw them, all the time. She did not understand the significance, or the meaning. She did not know why his lips were so warm. Inviting. There was heat. There were sparks. Her eyes closed and she could not open them. She could almost see the angels, her guardian angels, up above, shaking their head, lamenting. She was Balaam, blind to their presence, choosing willfully to ignore the warnings of her mount and charge towards their blade.

His lips left hers, slowly, painstakingly. Her mind was torn. She knew this was a temptation. A test. A trial. Yet, if it was a trial by god meant to test her faith, she knew, the second she leaned to lock her lips with his, that she had failed.

Their lips departed a second time, and she found it harder and harder to catch her breath. There were feelings she could not understand. Emotions she could not comprehend. His eyes were alight, and there was something, drawing her to them.

"Not yet."

His words snapped her from her trance. She stared, confused. "W-what?"

"I do what will bring me the most pleasure," he said, shrugging as he rose. "Right now, we're not ready. You are not ready."

"I – I don't understand –"

"What do you know about sex?"

Her cheeks flushed. "Um… it's when a man and woman lie together… and a baby is born?"

"Do you know how the baby is made?"

"I just said it is when a man and woman lie together –"

"So, you don't."

She found herself getting angry. "I'm not stupid. I know what sex is."

He smiled at her. His smile that only made her angrier. "Stop it! I hate it when you do that."

"Irina-chan –"

"I hate it! I hate it!"

He was always doing that. Always looking at her like that. Always using words that were too big to understand, always talking about things and ideas she couldn't wrap her head around. It hurts you know. They were supposed to be friends. He was supposed to be her friend.

"It's not fair." She said. "Why… why are you so smart? How do you know so much?" Why can't I ever understand you?

"I do what will bring me the most pleasure, Irina-chan and no one has ever found pleasure in being dumb, naïve or ignorant. If I don't even know what will bring me the most pleasure… how can I do it? How can I pursue pleasure if I don't even know how many different pleasures there are to pursue?"

"Why?" Why do you want to pursue pleasure so much?

He didn't say anything. He never said anything, no matter how many times she asked him that question. This time, he did not look at her, with those eyes, he did not look at her at all. He grabbed the blanket, folded it properly four times, and tucked it underneath his armpit.

"You should get back home Irina-chan. Your dad will be back soon."

There were words she wanted to say. Questions she wanted to ask. Things she wanted to add. She didn't. She didn't, because she assumed, there would be another time to say things, another time to ask things, and another time for things to be finished. For things to be added.

Getting home and crawling underneath the covers, her fingers idly touched her lips, her mind replaying and remembering the sensation of his lips on hers, over and over again. She slept, dreaming of him, of his lips, of his smile, and of a donkey, watching them both, while an angel of the Lord sharpened his blade, tasked to watch if the sinners were worthy of mercy, or if he would bring down his sword, and forever deprive them of salvation.