Dying didn't hurt. One monent Kamina was alive and the next, he wasn't. Then things got weird.

The first weirdness was that he still existed and could think about stuff like - well, still existing. Kamina had heard stories about the afterlife and reincarnation in Jeeha village but he'd never believed them.

Then he seemed to be somewhere for a moment - he had an impression of a lush green landscape filled with light and someone standing in front of him - and then he was somewhere the damn else.

That was possibly worrying, he decided. Or would be for someone who wasn't him. Because some of those stories aboutan afterlife had mentioned a beautiful place called Heaven, and how if you had done something to t-off the gods that you were judged unworthy and sent to a place called Hell instead. Hell was burningly hot and full of half-human creatures who predated on humanity, so that was supposed to be a bad thing... But to Kamina it sounded just like where he'd come. He'd dealt with the Beastmen there just fine and didn't see why it should be any different. As far was Kamina was concerned, Hell wasn't his problem - HE was the problem for Hell. Because after all - who the Hell did Hell think Kamina was?

"That's some seriously impressive ranting you've got going on right there, hot stuff" said the young woman who'd come to sit next him. She studied him carefully, rather like the village butcher when he was deciding which pig mole should be slaughtered next.

"Ummm.. thanks?" he offered in reply. Was the woman a demon? She was dressed in red and her expression said that she was willful and violent and crazy... exactly the same look that Kamina had seen on Viral's face when they'd fought. She had a face something like Viral's: all sharp edges, sneering lips and challenging eyes. Like Viral she was blonde. Maybe demons and beastmen were the same thing and they were relatives?

She was also, possibly only bar Yoko Littner, the hottest piece of woman flesh that he had ever seen. She lacked some of Yoko's ampler physical charms, and even more of her obvious sweetness, but she radiated a dangerous, aggressive and *experienced* sexuality unlike anything Kamina had ever known.

So, maybe a demon, maybe not, but definitely someone Kamina wanted to know better.

Fortunately, she seemed to feel the same way about him. At least, he thought that was what putting her hand where she just had meant. He swallowed, hard. And then swallowed again.

"You thirsty...?"

"Kamina."

"Hey, waitress! Two more martinis over here, stat! No, cancel that: make it two pitchers of frozen margaritas and stick a straw in each of them - I'm the way the fuck behind on my drinking tonight."

She turned back to Kamina. "Hey, cutie pie, that's a badass jacket you're wearing. Wicked cool flaming skull -" The jacket, which Kamera had never seen before, had the Team Gurren emblem emblazoned on its back. "And you like totally rock the visible nipples look. I'd go that way myself, but every time I try some pig hassles me, and then SWAT gets called out on my ass. And then the douchebag I work for gets *his* panties in a twist. Know what I mean?"

"Ummm... You enjoy getting your ass swatted, but the douchebag doesn't?" This actually sounded pretty promising. Kamina wished he'd been able to have these sort of talks with Yoko.

"Hah! No, the fucking princess l-o-v-e-s his ass swatted, you can fucking trust me on that. So: you a musician or an actor or something? Or -" She ran a hand down to his chest "Are you just here in VIP because you're so pretty?"

So Kamina explained. About Jeeha, his father, Littner, the desert, the beastmen and about dying.

"You're dead?"

"I suppose."

"But you're not a ghost. I mean, I can fucking tell that, trust me. I'm like a fucking expert at that."

"No. I don't think I'm a ghost."

"Well, that's some twisted shit, but I've heard a lot fucking worse, done a lot worse, had worse happen to me and still lived to wake up and ride wood in the morning. Yo, waitress! We've run out of booze and I'm not used to still being sober at this time of night!"

Kamina soon decided that he liked frozen margaritas almost as much as much as liked his new friend. He was surprised to discover that he wasn't in hell but in the VIP section of what was called a "nightclub", but he wasn't surprised that his companion turned out to be a warrior as well. The attitude and the way of moving were there, even if he couldn't quite understand the battles she described. He also discovered that his pocket contained what was called "ID" saying the he was over 21, one hundred little pictures that he learned were called "fifty dollar notes", and a letter written in a strange language. Of course he couldn't read the language people used at home, so that didn't make much difference.

The blonde stood up and stretched. Which was like saying that he, Kamina, was a man, that pig mole meat was tasty, or that the desert was full of sand. She managed to turn the simple action into a display that visibly aroused the lust of every man - and half the women, which Kamina hadn't even known was a thing - in sight.

Then she leaned over Kamina and said the most heartbreaking words he'd ever heard:

"I'm going home."

But then, then she added, as if it was so obvious she shouldn't have to say it:

"..Are you coming with me or what, stud?"

And so, trailing the envy of every man in the room behind him him like a cloak of manly glory, he did.

And what happened after that...

..Was more manly than you can imagine.

..More epic than your brain or your soul could survive.

..More stirring than a million electric guitars, more gar than a million laggens, and sweeter than the greatest of victories.

..And then it happened all over again because he was Kamina. And then four more times after that.

..And every time single time he yelled "WHO THE HELL DO YOU THINK I AM?" louder than the last, until not just the walls but the very heavens themselves shook.

Then there was a lull while she introduced to him to something called "pizza delivery" and a potion that was apparently from vodka and red bulls. Once both of them were refreshed she demonstrated skills that he hadn't even dared imagine exist, ones that she explained had made her one of the highest rated participants on a "website" called bee-jay-dot-com.

And then after THAT her sister burst into their room and said:

"Oh my god I can't stand it any more, and I have to Do It, but this is the only time in the history of the world this is going to happen, sister bitch."

To which sister bitch replied:

"And if you tell anyone I'll poison your fucking sugar and put super glue on your giant fucking dildo. So drop trou' and grab some lube, already!"

Then there was no more counting at all, just blonde hair and purple-and-pink hair, and things called "chocolate sauce" and "maple syrup" and utter, complete, overwhelming Chaos.

And so it while the sky outside turned light and then dark again. And so it might have continued for many hours more - for he was Kamina. But it did not - because suddenly danger was upon them! Two fierce and heavily armed warriors hurled themselves at the twisting, contorting threesome, and things might have gone very badly indeed if the two sisters hadn't instantly of had weapons at hand, pulling them out from the pile of discarded clothing around the bed.

Which followed made Kamina proud. His two lovers were everything warriors should be - swift, fierce, determined, remorseless and proud - so proud that when he tried to help they both ordered him not to:

"These whorebags have gone too far! No bitch interrupts me when I'm fucking unless she's delivering lube and fucking sex toys!"

"I'm not just going to cut these bitches, I'm going to slice them like Battenberg cake!"

But as he watched the blurring figures he realized something - the two attackers were women too! Not just that - the two women were just as beautiful - although in a more exotic way - than his two sisters.

For the first time, the thought of combat sickened him, and he called for them to stop.

"Who is Yoko Litnner?" asked the haughtier and slightly older of the two attackers - both of who were dressed in a stern looking (yet sexy) military uniforms. "And why, pray, is she relevant?"

"I believe he was saying that we - and these two trollops - are the only women he has ever seen who compare to her in beauty, sister. She's some sort of ideal for him. A nonpareil, if you will. Or his erotique idee fixe, if you prefer."

"And the speech that went 'Believe not in yourselves, and not in me, but in the you that wants to have sex with the me that wants to have sex with all of you'?"

"That *was* rather confusing. But I believe it was a proposal that we - all of us here - participate in sexual actitivities together."

"How unspeakable - to think of you and I in the same mass of contorting, lubricated flesh as those two trollops!"

"Indeed: the tenderest and most intimate parts of our bodies might press against the moistest and most slippery of theirs!"

"Such a suggestion is utterly revolting and most definitely unlike sexual fantasy I have ever had!"

"I am sincerely appalled and not in the slightest intrigued, enthralled, or lubricated. And anyone who finds my denial suspiciously over-specific can just go boil their head!"

"And the same goes for me," said the older sister. "I can only assume that the impressive size of this gentleman's erect manhood has drained a critical amount of blood away from his brain, rendering him temporarily insane."

The naked blonde sneered. "I don't understand half of those words, but it sounds to me like someone's scared that she and Glasses Girl couldn't keep up with sis and I."

"Hah! I'll have you know that my sister and I are renowned for our erotic skills. Why, the classiest toilet walls in Hell are decorated with our phone numbers!"

"Why? Do you own a tow truck? 'Cos all that manual labour would explain those meaty calves and thick wrists that you two have."

"You acid tongued reprobate! My exquisitely trained vagina has been compared to an industrial pump connected to a silk glove!"

"Talk is fucking cheap. *But it ain't fucking.*"

"Wart-ridden whore!"

"I sure could get paid for it if I wanted to. *Unlike some yeasty bitches in this room.*"

"TAKE THAT BACK!"

"Me and this bottle of Redbull and Vodka flavoured lube say 'Make me, yeast bitch.'"

The two new warrior women looked at each grimly. Then they looked at Kamina and licked their lips. Then they began to take off their clothes...

That was Saturday.

On Monday morning, the two pairs of exhausted sisters - well, exhausted except for Panty, who had trained for this sort of thing - woke up and found that Kamina was gone as if he had never been there. The "guests" made their excuses, dressed, and limped away to their waiting limousine.

"Talk about piercing the heavens with your drill... It's times like this you're glad I made you do all those kegels, amirite?"

The blonde was talking as much as to distract her sister, who was crying, as for any other reason. The two of them often fought but they were close in their own way. She tried again: "Hey, he's left his entire wardrobe behind. I guess it makes a sort of fucking sense. He said he was dead when I met him."

"So... You think we might see him again when we get to Heaven?"

"Fuck yeah. No way would they ever let a guy like Kamina into Hell - he'd make far too fucking much trouble. Yo - dibs on his way cool jacket." It would look great clubbing or even on stage or in a rock video, she decided. Plus... she wasn't normally the sentimental type, but she wanted to have something to remind her of him.

"Whatever."

"Hey, there's a fucking letter in here. From our cousin!"

The goth wiped her eyes, blew her nose, and sat up. "Seriously? From *Shelves*? Talk about weird coincidences."

"Nah, it all makes sense when you read it: (Ahem)

Dear Kamina (she read, in tones very much like those of Lord Edmund Blackadder - because that's how Shelves sounds) -

I thought that if anyone in history deserved something special before coming up here it was you. So I've set you up with my cousin. She's a total bitch, completely foul-mouthed, and I can honestly say that I have seen porcelain saucers that possessed more depth. But she's also easier to pick up than an empty bucket with a glue-covered handle, hotter than the fires of Tartarus during barbecue season, and generally regarded as the greatest lay in the entire history of the universe.

Your Bro' - Jesus"

Panty nodded. "Damn straight, carpenter boy!"