Taking a Piss Together is Good for Bonding

“So yeah, Hazama isn't permitted to be near Sakuramine.”

Inugami broke the silence, mostly the white noise brought by the sound of his piss spraying all over the urinal. He grunted, shivering, now feeling a bit relaxed. Then he rolled back his shoulders, sighing with relief as they cracked.

The Oogami household didn’t offer much after the attack. They swept through the rest of the property, eventually exorcising the lingering signatures clinging to the father’s belt, the mother’s broom, and even a small potted plant in the backyard. Hoshino tried not to think too hard about it.

“Wait… seriously?”

Hoshino’s voice echoed in the restroom. He turned his gaze to his own urinal. The toilet was… well, yellowish and wet. As expected of a toilet. It was probably old, too.

With the hint of bleach wafting to his nose, he could tell that it had just been cleaned. To be fair, the café they were in had just opened. For the brand, they probably used Mahou Magic Max. It had that pleasant lavender smell. The details weren't at all important. But he’d rather think about the intricacies of this urinal in front of him than remember yet again how huge this man was.

Ishigami Kyouma. A fellow teammate. A D-rank exorcist.

Hoshino swayed his hips and started drawing an imaginary heart on the urinal with piss as his pen.

There was a clip he watched before about a big man nicknamed Sombra. The clip was a two-parter, and after spending at least thirty minutes scrolling to find that stupid part two, he learned that his nickname was like that not because of the color of his skin, but because he was so tall that he overshadowed everyone around him. Ishigami—the man at the urinal beside him—was like that. Well, not because of the color of his skin, but also because he was so tall that Hoshino felt like he needed to tiptoe around him.

The man was jacked. Hoshino swayed his hips again, drawing a star this time. Ishigami’s black coat and pants might hide it well, but he saw him beat a homeless man once. He took off his coat, folding it and putting it in a plastic bag before setting it on the side of the street. He didn’t want it to get dirty. He told the homeless man to wait. Then he rolled up the sleeves of his favorite shiny yellow-green button-up shirt. He also didn’t want them to get dirty.

The homeless man used the time to call for backup. There came a man wearing a fur suit of a large dog with a spiky collar and a man wearing a white bodysuit with a frog head.

The sight. Oh, what he saw that day. It was like watching a palm tree dance with the wind in the middle of a typhoon. His smile was terrible, cheerful, and maniacal. He would plant his feet, and the ground itself would shiver at his weight. He swung, the muscles of his arms and back bulging like they were about to rip his shirt apart. With the might of ten men, he broke the homeless man’s nose, kicked the guy in a fur suit in the dick, and, by his sheer aura alone, made the man in the white bodysuit flee for his life.

The only thing that made the man approachable was his hair. It was an afro… and at the same time not… or something. Hoshino didn’t know what to call it. He also didn’t want to ask. It looked like a Truffula Tree from The Lorax. Hoshino wouldn’t say that out loud because if this man could beat a homeless man without a shred of remorse, imagine what he would do to him.

“You know Hazama played games, right?”

“Was quite an addict… from what I’ve heard,” Hoshino replied, trying not to laugh.

Inugami’s gaze was pressing him. Not sure where the man was looking, but Hoshino was sure he was getting squished by the man’s aura alone. This was not the kind of look he would be comfortable having while he was in the restroom, pissing.

Inugami chuckled. About time. He gave himself that little shake, zipped up his pants, and walked toward the sink to wash his hands. Hoshino could swear he heard something flap. In any case, he could also finish up. As soon as he was done, he grabbed the waistband of his boxers and used that as leverage to flap his dingdong up and down. It looked clean enough, so he gently stepped away from the urinal and let the skirt of his dress down.

“Mhm.” Inugami widened his grin. “From what I’ve heard… she was playing a ranked match and needed one last win to get to a certain rank before the game season ended. She lost… badly. Someone made a mistake—not sure who that was—and the enemy turned the tide and won the game.”

“That seems normal—”

“She got into a heated debate with her teammate over comms about whose fault it was. Needless to say, she got rage-baited, as what the young people would say, and ended up using our systems to track the guy’s IP address. After pulling some more strings, she learned that this Xx_MidOrF33d_xX  is a student from Sakuramine. AND after that… let’s just say she waited until school was over and ambushed the poor lad on his way home, showing him that she was indeed not a deadbeat girl gamer, that she could beat him up, and politely explained that the guy is the reason why shampoo bottles have instructions written on them or something...”

“That…” Hoshino started washing his hands, stifling a laugh. “It ended well, right?”

“A fuckin’ PR disaster. That’s what it was. Not sure if she told you yet, but I did so that you wouldn’t think of her as weird or think she ever got involved with a high school kid… you know what I mean.”

“No… no.” Hoshino wiped his hands off on the back of his skirt, letting out a small laugh. “I wouldn’t think that; she doesn’t seem to be the type. But thank you for telling me that she threatened a kid once. She seems more human to me now.”

Inugami sighed. “More… human… huh?”

They exchanged nods.

It was followed by a moment of silence. That was when Hoshino knew it was time. Inugami took a deep breath and made his way toward the door, his stride different now—more powerful and elegant. Hoshino widened his smile as he watched Inugami basically snap the door open and scramble to catch the doorknob so it wouldn’t smash against the wall. If his new partner was being like that, then how could he not respond in kind?

Back at the Oogami household, Hazama told him she couldn’t go to Sakuramine. She called Inugami a moment later to tell him about their plan: they were to investigate the school and ask about the victims. But there was also another problem—Sakuramine was wary of Inugami, too, because he used to court a high school teacher there and was a little too aggressive about it.

The moment Hoshino heard all that, only one thing was left in his mind.

He was a man with a plan. A man of action, after all. This plan required him to go to his friend here at La Boulangerie—one of the most famous cafés in Kanzakichō—to get themselves a proper disguise before other stores opened at ten in the morning.

And thus, they were reborn.

“Bonjour, mademoiselle!” Inugami shouted, drawing unwanted attention upon them as he picked up his needlessly large top  hat and placed it atop his black, bush-like hair. “My name is Pierre-Louis de La Pêcherie du Vallon. I am a noble from France; I have come to do business here in Kanzakichō, and I have been very fortunate. Thus, I have taken it upon myself to visit the prestigious Sakuramine for my darling Louise Camille de La Pêcherie du Vallon!”

Inugami lost his accent and started speaking in shitty Italian midway through his line.

But no matter.

Hoshino stepped forward and widened his stride, catching the unwanted attention Inugami had drawn. He twirled, showing himself off and wooing the rest of the bystanders with the bright elegance of his cute Victorian maid outfit. Then, he bowed, elegantly.

“Bonjour, mademoiselle. My name is Jean-François de la Valière Dubois. I serve my master, Pierre-Louis de La Pêcherie du Vallon. I take care of the cleaning, the cooking… and others. I’m quite good, if I do say so myself.”

In front of them was a table. On the other side of the table was Hazama with a tall cup of La Boulangerie’s strongest coffee in one hand and a half-filled energy drink in the other. She took a deep breath through her nose, her glasses gleaming as she pressed her back against the couch.

She said nothing. But beneath her glasses, her left eye twitched.

Hoshino’s smile wavered.

Not good.