Sota opened his big chocolate brown orbs which were flecked with the deep brown color of the snickers he had the morning before. His curtains filtered the soft orange light that shone from the sun. He sighed, knowing, it would be another day of being a virgin, and not meeting, his lord and savior, jesus christ. He stared at the pinup image on his wall and wished it would give him the answers he needed.

He sighed and threw his curtains aside. It was a bright day, and by that light he pulled off his shirt and looked around his closet for a new one. He shivered, despite the sunlight it was very cold. Followed by that was a cascade of cold sweat, rushing down his back as it did every morning. He sighed yet again and threw on a new outfit, a light cardigan the color of morning dew on a blood-red rose petal that had been illuminated by the last beam of moonlight before the sun had risen. Underneat he wore a simple white shit that any man of god would, along with grey pants that looked like they were from a school uniform. Thankfully, he had graduated years ago and was now his own boss of his own room. The pants were much comfier, and they accentuated his tiny ass. God must have been smiling on him that day, as the river of sweat seemed to have evaporated like mist on a sunny morning, witness to the crowd of drunk folks that often sinned and wandered around godless and helpless in his neighborhood at night. Sota slipped on a pair of pure white socks as god intended.

"MOMMMMM! WE'RE OUT OF MILK," he yelled from upstairs, knowing she had drunk the entire thing in a fit after her last one night stand left her. She paused and said nothing for a moment.

"Thanks sweetie," she said, smiling at the ceiling. She needed that. The reminder that she had a child. She almost jumped off the roof right then, but, since she remembered about Sota's existence, she stopped contemplating death.

He shuffled down the stairs to the first floor where his mother sat.

"I'm going to get milk," he said, then paused. "You know, you really shouldn't be such a slut, women should know their place. The men you sleep with have been sullied by you."

She smiled up at him, "My sweet child, don't talk like that, I'll steal your kneecaps. And can you go get milk?"

"I'm already going!" Sota yelled, angry at her insolence. Someone who didn't even believe in god shouldn't talk like that.

He sprinted out the door in anger and slammed it shut quietly behind him. He was so furious with his mother that he decided to partake in his favorite hobby(besides masturbating to anime tiddies): going to the bar and shaming the sinners that resided there. He raised both hands and waited for a taxi(as any man of god would) and stood there until one arrived. He hopped inside.

"Can you take me to the nearest bar?" He asked, before realizing that the driver was a hwomen. He snorted in disgust and cried out, "YOU ARE NOT A PERSON OF GOD! A HWOMAN CAN'T DRIVE! THEY BELONG IN KITCHENS!"

He jumped out of the car and slammed the door shut as hard as possible, then resolved to drive his own car, as any good man of god should. He pushed a button and the garage door popped open, revealing his slutty mother's "Air Car" as well as his own pearl colored tahoe.

He paused to admire the biblically accurate and large angel hood ornament, the kind you would spy on a Christmas tree in times square on Christ's birthday. The car was shiny and sparkling with the look of pure god about it. The pearly color, that of an angel's wings as it descended from heaven to punish sinners on a sunday morning, complimented the dark, black wheels, the same color as the charcoal in the fireplaces in the log cabins that were often located in the deep dark snowy forests located in cambodia he was often commissioned to draw. Light shone through a crack in the garage that his slutty mother had yet to get someone to fix. It complemented the rich paint job he got on his tahoe, including the pure flames imitating the ones that god threw onto the sinners thrown to hell of god that had been scuplpted onto the side. They were the same color as the shirt he had worn the previous day, funnily enough, the same color as a three layer popsicle left out to face god's shining light on a sunny afternoon in mid july in russia.

Sota finished admiring the outside and opened the large, fancy, and smoothly hinged door to reveal a fabulous custom interior with a large flat area in the back dedicated to the worship of his lord and savior Jesus Christ. The flooring of that area was formed into a triangular pattern, like that of the argyle sweater he had worn last Saturday to church(he went to church as often as possible, and usually stayed all day on Sundays). He had gotten that sweater from his great great grandma when she passed away and joined the heavens(he only accepted the sweater because his great great grandmother was the one who taught him to worship in the first place) and the sweater switched to his ownership. The back of his car was decorated with various idols and statues depicting angels, god, and, of course, jesus. There were also quite a few heat lamps around the corners. This section was normally closed off from the rest of the vehicle, but he had done extensive spiritual cleaning yesterday at his personal shrine and he had forgotten to close it off(which is why he could see it currently). He paid his respects to the jesus shrine then climbed into the driver seat and revved the engine. It gave a sound similar to that of a cat of sweden purring as you rubbed your hand down its long furry back as you ate a bag of baked potato chip and chocolate. He laid back in the soft leather seats that were saturated with the words of god and put his hands on the shiny steering wheel. He pulled out his keys, and in turn, his keychain, which was adorned with many anime girls and jesus models, his favorite of which was a depiction of Jesus punishing the characters Kakeguri for their drinking, gambling, premarital sex, and for loving one of the same gender.

He pulled out of the garage and glared at his hoe of a mother's stupid car, and even considered ramming into it, before remembering that god would never want that. He took the turn on his way to the "Hashira Bar", where most sinners would usually waste time they could be spending at church.

Sota basked in the sunlight during the short drive to the Hashira Bar as he savored the yet to come satisfaction he would derive from taking the sinners down a notch, and perhaps even convincing some to walk the path of god. It was a cloudless day, so it was easy to see the sinful place as he closed in on the parking lot that led to the area. He grinned and switched lanes to reach it.

Finally, he arrived in front of the awful place and almost decided to burn it down right there. Instead, he stood outside a moment longer to prepare his statements.

There was a run-down sign hanging above the swinging western-style double doors that barely concealed the light from the inside of the accursed place. The sign read "柱バー", which he assumed meant Hashira Bar. He snorted and pushed open the wooden splintered wood to reveal a lively scene of sinners gathering, probably discussing how much they had sinned, or how they were "glad" they hadn't walked the path of god. Fools, all of them, he thought.

As he stepped inside, he saw several familiar faces: Edward Elric, Chuuya Nakahara, Kazuma Sato, Rosé Thomas, Senku Ishigami, Kaisi Kusuo, and Irina Jelavić.

The Seven Deadly Sinners.

To be continued...