Off with Your Head!
***
While stalking down the street, Kamui Shirou was suddenly stopped in his tracks by a stray cat staring him down. It eyed him warily from its perch on top of a fence, flicking its tail. Its eyes were a glowing purple that seemed to hold a smug glimmer. Smug. He wasn't even aware that cats could look smug, except for the one from Alice in Wonderland, and he loathed that movie with a passion. He'd walked away from that movie more traumatized than he was before, and considering his wholesome past, that was saying something. It had left him with a bitter loathing for all things feline. As far as he was concerned, Cheshire Cat could take his grin and stick it.
Well, didn't that just take the cake, thought Kamui with a surge of rage, as the cat insolently flicked a claw at him (the cat's equivalent of the birdie) Energy fizzed at the back of his head, making his hair stand up and look even more retarded than it already did. Didn't that just TAKE THE CAKE. Electricity sparked at his fingertips, fizzing.
And if it wasn't some pedophile molesting him at his bus stop, or some kid punk making off with his new Hello Kitty wallet, or some blind old lady hassling him to help her over the intersection as if he had nothing better to do, it was a blasted CAT eyeing him. He hated those worst of all. Worse than stepping in dog shit, even. A challenge, hmm? He'd show it challenge. The mangy cat, which was now defiantly lapping at its grimy paw in apparent defiance of all things sanitary, was going to regret ever setting its beady slits on Kamui Shirou.
'Cuz Kamui Shirou was going to step up to it ..like a MAN.
He paused, perturbed. He wasn't, actually, by all definition, a man yet. He fingered his chin, which had yet to sprout any hair growth, and thus failed to yield a beautiful 6 o'clock shadow at 6 o'clock. He had, two weeks ago, attempted to use charcoal dust to fake it, but Subaru had broken out in hysterical twitching upon first sight, and for Subaru, whose repertoire of expression fell between half-hearted neutral and serious melanchonly, and if he was feeling particularly up to it, vaguely existential, that was equal to full-out gasping for breath amidst chest-squeezing laughter. So Kamui wasn't a man yet. However, he could act like one. And if a non-man could act like a man, more power to him. He lifted his chin defiantly.
He drew a breath, and stepped closer to the fence. This was going to take a while.
"OMG WHY ARE YOU STARING AT ME YOU BASTARD WHY IS IT ALWAYS ME MY EGGS WERE COLD THIS MRONING AND I SPILLED MY COFFEE ALL OVER MY CROTCH AND THEN SUBARU CONTINUED TO ANGST QUIETLY OVER THAT STUPID SAKURAZUKAMORI WHY ME WHY MEOMG I HATE MY LIFE SO MUCH!@!!1 YESTERDAY IT WAS RAINY THE RAIN FELL ALL OVER ME CAUSE I DIDNT HAVE MY UMBRELLA WHERE DID MY UMBRELLA GO I THINK MYUMBRELLA DIED EVERYTHING DIES ON ME EVERYONE WHO TOUCHES ME DIESSS !!11 EVEN KOTORI! KOTORIIII! KOTORIIII!!! WHEEERE IS MY UMBREEELLA, KOTORII WHY ME WHY ME WHY"
Kamui promptly closed the distance between him and the cat, which, by this time, had attempted to leap from the fence in a suicidal attempt to get away from the noise, and grabbed it by its tail. The cat yowled, helplessly pawing at Kamui's fist as it hung in the air. It abruptly found itself thrown across the road about a good twenty feet. "MrOOOOOOOOWRR!!!" it screeched, the sound arcing in the air. But the fun, it seemed, for Uncle Brown (for that was the cat's name), was not over yet.
Two seconds later, an attempted meow from him was unceremoniously cut short by an energy ball finding its way to Uncle Brown. Whiskers that once twitched merrily when finding bread in the street, fell still. Blood, brain, and a fair chunk of guts sprayed across the road. A disconnected tail twitched by a sewer. Smoke wisped across its length.
Kamui's special Screaming Blast had finally shaken hands with physics and caught up with the poor cat.
"Oh my god," uttered one of the passerbys who had stopped earlier o stare at Kamui ranting. She raised a hand to an open mouth and with the other hand, shakingly pointed at Kamui. A woman behind her wearing a muumuu squealed and abruptly ran away. The rest of the people quickly followed suit, slipping and sliding into the bushes and buildings. Droning funereal music began playing nearby from an apartment window for no apparent window.
Soon, the street grew empty. Even the few cars, whose inhabitants had either a) retched in disgust or b) immediately dialed the police, disappeared. Kamui stared hollowly after the screeching escapees in their rich cars, the wafting smell of acrid rubber heavy in the air. His chest heaved. Sweat from his exertion trickled into his ears.
Night had fallen. Oh how the stars twinkled above. They were like diamonds in the sky. Kamui vaguely reflected on how familiar that line sounded. Almost like he cribbed it from a lullaby. How depressing. Even his similes were stolen. His life sucked. The sound of sirens grew ever nearer.
His former rage whistling out of his now-lifeless body, Kamui turned to trudge away, but stopped when his sneaker squished in something soft. The head of the cat lay about five feet away, perched in front of a bush, with an accusing look. It reminded him of.. Kotori. Something about disembodied heads that never failed to ring that distant bell in him. He moaned, hands reaching to grip at the sides of his head.
He didn't--he just--it was just that the cats--oh God. Kamui knelt down, ignoring the wet sensation of his knees squishing and turned his face to the heavens, cheeks streaked with old and new tears. He swiped at his nose, which was irritatingly filling up with snot. Then he stared down at his hand, which was smeared with something lumpy, and might've been a liver in a previous life. "WHY?!?!"
His scream pierced the night, killing five more cats several miles away. In a distant apartment, Fuuma woke up and went to the bathroom. He had to pee.
***
A/N: Whee! Oh god, how I love Author's notes. It's just an excuse to ramble about nothing in particular, which I love best. OOOH EHEHEHEHEEHE. See, in a sane world (how ..boring), Kamui would be a well-adjusted young man chasing after booty and in certain pictures, likes to wear his tie sexily slung over his shoulder, as to corroborate the lusty expression in his eyes. Unfortunately, we live in the world of X. Specifically our X. In our X, Kamui is the angst posterboy of the century. He is the Freudian orgasm. He enjoys sunsets, long walks on the beach, and having his hands stabbed with glass shards by a man named Fuuma. Hot, eh. Also, as a normal exercise, or really, out of habit, he likes to fall down on his knees with a hollow, stricken expression. He feels like he might need it a lot in the future. And in fortunately for his pending psychic career... HE WILL. BUWAHAHAHAHAHHA! Fuuma, hit it. *hits submit button*
Ummm.. but seriously.. I think this story got carried away with itself. SOOOO NOT intentional. Two points to them who get the Alice reference.