Your exhibition with Angie drew a pair.

Even though you start looking first, Angie is the one who manages to pick the forms of the voyeurs out of the dark. "Yoohoo! Who is watching Atua's holy ceremony? It is all right! We will not hurt you!" she sings into the shadows, as though she's trying to cajole out a frightened creature. "Our exhibitionist art is free to view!" She claps her hands over her head, then dips to the side with a bright smile. "Or record, or join as you like!"

An aggressive male voice shouts back in obvious indignation. "You fuckin' perverted loon, that prick musta screwed your brains out!" Its owner steps out of the shadows. You notice the other figure with him is walking ahead of him like a guard dog at first, before adjusting and moving to a none-the-less wary position at his side. The one barking is a short young man with an unusually cute freckled face, but with a buzz-cut head and a pin-striped suit that better matched his attitude. The tall, pale young woman next to him, flexing her fingers on a wooden sword at her back as though the two of you posed any threat, has silver hair in pigtails, dangerous red eyes behind businesslike glasses, and an otherwise ordinary school uniform. The gangster pushes ahead of her, and as you get a better look at him, you notice his face is beet red. From fury or embarrassment, you can't tell. "Do you have any fuckin' idea who you're invitin' to join you in your little pig-stickin' party here?!"

Well, you do, but you aren't eager to pick up the ball and answer that question. The young man is Fuyuhiko Kuzuryu, the Ultimate Yakuza. The woman at his side is Peko Pekoyama, the Ultimate Swordswoman. As far as you know, those two classmates mostly keep to their own business, so you're not sure why he and his bodyguard are facing you down like dangerous criminals. Needless to say, they have you two at a disadvantage, considering you and Angie are both unarmed and lacking anything but paint to wear.

Angie starts to speak, but Fuyuhiko doesn't let her get a word in, speaking loudly over even her pushy and energetic voice. "Look, I don't want any words outta you two screwballs. All I want from you two is a deep, deep bow for bein' dumb enough to bump uglies in an open classroom. Then, maybe I'll think about not reportin' your asses for public indecency... A-and at this age, and what the fuck?! Ain't this guy a transfer student? You two couldn'ta known each other more than a couple days! You're supposed to be the Ultimate Artist, you got a whole fuckin' future to think about!"

Angie only smiles a pitying smile at him, then takes her turn to respond. "Thanks for the consideration, but the glorification of Atua is my whole future. I need not plan further than what glorifies him in the here and now, and our collaboration has been quite glorious indeed! Now, the real question. What brought you here and bid you to watch? Was our show exciting for you? Was it enjoyable? Atua drew you here to witness- Ohoh!" she holds her hands up in a gesture of peace as Peko levels her wooden sword at the artist's throat.

The swordswoman speaks without clear emotion. Unlike her counterpart, she doesn't have a trace of anything on her face, besides a brief flash of indignation. "We were on this side of the building to have a phone call made in private when your activity became impossible to ignore. You will do well not to make implications about the future ruler of the Kuzuryu clan-"

Fuyuhiko puts a hand on her sword to get her to lower it, then straightens his tie. Then, he steps right up in your face, trying to make up for both his lack of height and his distinctly un-scary features with masculine intensity. "You're the man here, right? Tommy, was it? I'm gonna let you show some balls and speak a sincere fuckin' apology for both what you two've done in front of us and what your lady is insinuatin' about us."

You gulp, feeling the yakuza's pressure on you and feeling less and less excused by the atmosphere Angie put together. You understand that consequences could be real if you don't choose your words carefully, so you give it some thought. Then you begin a concise, measured explanation for your actions.

You tell Fuyuhiko that there are a number of misunderstandings here to correct. First, this activity isn't a spur-of-the-moment act of passion between two lovers, but an artistic exhibit planned by Angie as the Ultimate Artist. If this is an activity between lovers, that's a secret to you.

Some of the fire seems to have left the gangster, and he mutters in response to your declaration, as though trying to process it. "An act of passion... between secret lovers, huh..."

Ignoring him, you continue. It isn't like you have any special connection to Angie, you tell him. You just happened to be here. This kind of exhibition could probably be performed by any man or woman who happened to be present and properly prepared.

Peko mutters to herself, her red eyes hidden by a shine on her glasses as she stares blankly up at the light above. "Performed by any man or woman..."

You defend that this exhibition offers a chance for a man and woman like you and Angie to enjoy themselves and experiment without shame or reservation, and really, it's not the kind of thing the two of them could judge without having the proper artistic perspective or trying it themselves.

Neither of them say anything now. Fuyuhiko is rubbing at his eyes sleepily; Peko's lids have clearly closed behind her specs and her mouth is hanging agape in an expression that looks very unguarded on the bodyguard. You look over to Angie, expecting her to be in a similar sleepy spell from the weird yawn traveling the room, so you're startled when you see her looking at you bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. "I'm sorry, Tommy, I was not paying attention! I was just simply thinking... maybe our work for Atua is not yet done? Yes, Atua is telling me... he wants you to touch me again! He's telling me it pleases him greatly when you grip my body firmly, all over the place. If I were you, I would pounce upon this opportunity to please Him without blood sacrifice! You do know how He gets, nyaha!"

Well... You suppose you could get back to it. After all, the gangster and his bodyguard who'd been taking so much offense a moment ago have apparently decided the whole thing bores them to sleep. For her part, Angie's gone ahead and assumed a position, wiggling her behind at you again and inviting you to take hold. The first healthy spank you give her, however, is enough to yank a startled awakening out of the sleepy pair. Fuyuhiko looks from your raised hand to Angie's position and enthralled smile, then gives you a look of disgust. "The fuck?! Are you two animals really goin' at it again? We ain't even prepped!"

Prepped for what?

Peko pushes up her glasses and very discretely wipes her mouth from where she'd been drooling a moment ago. "The exhibition. We were just discussing how we can't understand it without participating. It would benefit you to have us understand it... Lest we instead condemn it," she added, glaring down at you with her resting intensity.

Wait, they're going to participate? But neither of them is a trained artist-

"They hardly need to be," Angie interrupts with a smile. "No, Atua is telling me their enthusiasm will make up for what they lack in aesthetics. So long as they commit their bodies to Atua's glory! And to His paint, of course!" From the darkness, she's brought more buckets of more paint, uncapping the lids to reveal different colors. "I recommend getting naked as the first preparation."

By this point, you can admit you find Angie's enthusiasm cute, but still ridiculous. Fuyuhiko and Peko were just threatening the two of you. There's no way they're planning to-

Ah. Somehow, in spite of what you were just thinking, you're not surprised when you turn to see the gangster and his lady bodyguard beginning to shed their clothes as casually as if they were each alone in a changing room. They're making some effort not to look at each other, but that's the only apparent sign of shame as Fuyuhiko gets down to a flashy pair of dragon-decorated briefs, Peko peels her dark tights down her legs to reveal equally surprising thong underwear, and both keep going. You can't believe it, but in a minute you're turning your head from the Ultimate Gangster's hanging wang and towards the pale and surprisingly curvy bare body of his associate. So that's it, then? They're suddenly fine totally okay with being naked in a public classroom?

"When in Rome," Peko replies with a shrug. She seems to be considering taking off the ribbons holding her pigtails in place, but decides against it. She does, however, set her glasses carefully aside before plunging her hands into purple paint. Now that the buck-naked Fuyuhiko is dipping his own into green, she takes a small, steadying breath before taking the blue pail and tossing it on her master's exposed junk. You notice he's still not as "prepared" as you'd managed to get before your foray into this exhibition business. For that matter, you're still waiting for the second wind Angie seems to be expecting of you.

Angie seems to sense your hesitation. Now that she's done helping the other two get started and she's cranked the music up, she's taken it upon herself to start trying to gussy you back up, grinding her paint-covered ass against your paint-covered junk again. For the first time, you're aware the paint you two had been using is completely dry now: you could bring up that makes this not much of an art exhibition between you two, but Angie hardly seems in the mood to hear that. She's... getting you where you need to be.

"Oh, I think Tommy and I are good to go! This time, Tommy, Atua is requesting lots of spanking! Please, discipline his disciple as you see fit. Fuyuhiko and Peko, you should do just as Atua guides you to. Let your hands be guided by His will and by your passion, which merge into one blessed fire in His holy light!"

"That's a hell of a thing to say," Fuyuhiko spits back. "As if the two of us would have a clue of where to start in a place like this. You're the damn artist, the two of us'll just follow your lead. Besides, this ain't got anything to do with passion between me and her, right? And if you go tellin' anybody otherwise, it's gonna be the last thing you tell anyone."

"Right..." Peko responded, reaching up for the bridge of her nose as though she's forgotten she isn't wearing glasses. She gives Fuyuhiko a sidelong glance, then smirks slightly. "I'm not a lover, but a blade." Her smirk turns into a smile which seems like it ought to be either warm or mischievous, but somehow looks deviant or dangerous on her pale face. "I hope you're prepared for what it means to put your hands on a blade, master. I will not be the one that bends."

"Heh... Haha!!" the young man laughs in response. "It's been a while since you talked to me like that, huh? Maybe some correction's what you need after all!" Looking embarrassed (more at having shown too much enthusiasm than at the debauchery he's about to participate in), Fuyuhiko rubs the back of his head and spits curses when he remembers the paint. "Anyway, the important thing I need everybody in this room to remember is this has nothing to do with lovers to begin with. We're just gonna understand it, then we're gonna be cool. All right?"

With that, Fuyuhiko and Peko show you just how cool, detached, and passionless they are.

Specifically, after Fuyuhiko has landed about three hard green-painted slaps on his bodyguard's bare behind, each eliciting a collectively louder and less-protected moan but not a single protest, the two forego the appearance of doing any foreplay other than wrestling each other to the ground and rolling around in their colors, sucking at each other's faces. You remember how you'd failed to get much of a kiss from Angie before and can't help but feel a bit jealous, considering Fuyuhiko and Peko can hardly tear their mouths from each other but to breathe.

You remind yourself that, truly, for as much passion is gathered here, this is supposed to be an artistic exercise. It's unrealistic to think that the Ultimate Artist could fall head over heels for someone she just met. It's much more realistic to assume that her art has a charismatic, irresistible pull that draws people to take part. There may not be love, but there's definitely passion. As you continue raining new strikes on the artist's ass, watching her go from pleasant giggles to pleasured groans as you give her more of what she wants, you feel that passion coming back to your lower body and begin to feel there might be a round two, after all.

You still don't understand how things got to this point, looking between the tan nymph presenting her well-slapped ass to you and the pale beauty on your left, dutifully adopting the same pose for her master. You want to ask someone, but you don't think anyone in the room with you is in the state of mind to give you an answer. So, somehow, you, the plain-as-toast Ultimate Transfer Student, and Fuyuhiko, the heir to the Kuzuryu dynasty, begin giving your Ultimate partners the doggy-style pounding they're asking for.

There's frankly not a trace of that pride and distance the gangster and his bodyguard had been showing earlier. Both of them are basically screaming the name of the other, wearing beet-red faces and locking gold and red gazes in a way that couldn't be anything but the look of lovers, regardless of any threats of execution. You have to confess, it makes you a little jealous...

You hear a giggling and become aware you said that last part out loud. Angie's clearly getting exhausted herself, but she still looks back at you with that silly grin before beginning a sing-songy version of the same cries going on next to you. "Oh, Tommy, Tommy, Tooommyyy Gangimariii! Oh, how dare you make me scream a name other than His in His most holy of acts! Bad boy, Tommy, bad- Aha!" she giggles again, finally shutting up when you land another strike on her stinging bottom. "...F-fuck, Tommy," you hear her mutter in an unusually raw and low voice you somehow still hadn't heard up to this point. You can feel her spurting against your insertion, and realize she might be a bit embarrassed she didn't last.

Things have wound down between you and Angie, and you're careful to pull out so that when you finish, it's tapping off onto the curves of her sore, twitching, and long-since painted bottom. Meanwhile, you look over to see the other pair didn't even finish in the same position: the two had ended up in a face-to-face mating press for the eye-contact they seemed to crave. When they finish (you notice, concerningly, that you can't see any evidence Fuyuhiko managed to pull out), the two of them are lying in messy, panting heaps.

Angie giggles again between breaths. "Oh my! Atua says this is His second favorite prayer circle of all time! If only we add some blood into this mix of body fluids, it would be the number-one! How divine!" She glances around to see if there are any takers, apparently not having meant that as a joke. "No? Oh well! I suppose we could all use some time to relax."

"F... Fuck relaxin'," Fuyuhiko gasps, struggling to get to a sitting up position. "Your goofy art business has got me lookin' like a Picasso piece. Where's a guy supposed to clean up?"

Angie laughs like he'd told a joke. When he doesn't laugh along, she tilts her head quizzically. "Hm? Hm hm hm? Silly boy, this is exhibitionist art, remember? I have chosen the paint to best glorify Atua! It's glow-in-the-dark, completely non-toxic, tastes like delicious island fruit, and, best of all, it's semi-permanent!'"

Peko bolts from where she'd been collapsed on the floor to upright, turning her red eyes and shocked red face to Angie. "What do you mean 'semi-permanent'?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Angie asks, tilting her head the other way and still wearing her confused expression. "It wouldn't be much of an art piece if we all just washed it off right away! No, this paint is designed to remain unwashable and unscrubbable for a whole two or three days. This will best exhibit our devotion to Atua."

You and the other two remain quiet for a moment as that sinks in. You can practically feel the last of the paint drying on the gangster and his bodyguard as they hesitate. Fuyuhiko looks from his green-stained hands to the blatant green stains all over Peko's body: there's even two tell-tale grip stains on the sides of her pigtails, from a part of the show you must have missed. Now, whatever madness had been shielding them from thinking about consequences is starting to wear off, as looks of horror and humiliation grow on each of them in tandem.

Peko is the first to recover her senses and her cool. Her face fixes back to its robotic look of duty. "My uniform will cover my body almost in its entirety, as will yours. And... I will shave my head," she declares after a pause, growing dour.

"No! Nononono," Fuyuhiko corrects her. "Look, it's just the braids, right? You'll look cute with short hair, just do a cut!"

Peko looks back at him with momentarily wide eyes before clearing her throat and glancing to the side. "The exhibition is over, Master. You can return to addressing me normally. But, as for your suggestion... I'll consider it."

Angie laughs and puts her hands together, shouting "How divine!" once again even as you rush to get her artist's smock wrapped around her and get yourself back into a state of half-dress. "All's well that ends well, Atua says!"

You don't have time to remind your cheeky master/student/disciple/whatever that this is very much not "all's well that ends well." Peko is going to find her glasses, and after she finds those, she's going to find her sword. Before she can do that and this can get any further off the rails, you're going to get Angie and yourself far away from this place. Even after seeing what Atua can do today, you still question His ability to protect against organized **** or the wrath of the Ultimate Swordswoman...