in the wrong direction, part two of an indeterminate total
Well, to begin with, he was bleeding. He'd noticed it shortly after the haze had died down and he could feel his neck throbbing from the damn cat's bite.

Blood didn't bother him much, seeing as he spent most of his nights trying to make Fuuma bleed with that pink neon marker, but what really bothered him -

(and here he had to pause to scratch at his head, something was really itching)

what really bothered him was that whenever he bled, it got all over his shirt, no matter where it was bleeding from, and he'd have to spend the rest of the night cleaning it all out at the laundromat, and everyone knew that the laundromat closed at ungodly-early o'clock every night, because the manager believed that the police would haul her away if she let people stay out past their eight-o'clock curfew.

Of course there's no eight-o'clock curfew in town. She's just crazy. Don't ask stupid questions like that.

So, anyway. The laundromat. He'd have to spend all night at the laundromat, and that meant breaking into the building, stealing coins from the safe (because the machines just simply won't work without having a coin to munch on), and running his shirt through the wash cycle for several hours with bleach while trying not to get killed by a passing black bird or whatever was out to get him that night.

Whotta pain in the ass. Kamui hated bleeding, even though it made Kaori do that funny swaying motion with hearts all over her airspace (those times were the best to start chunking things from her, in payment for the morning).

And the cat was still talking to him, too. Something about a crystal, and darkness, and some moon thing. He could hear her muttering, too, about not looking down, but he wasn't going to fall for that, unless -

Aw, hell. He really was bleeding. And all over his shirt. No.

Wait.

"... THE FUCK!"

The cat cringed.


There is probably much debate going on about whether Kamui would look good in such kinky outfits as leather pants, mesh top, several hundred belts and chokers galore. The frilly shirts are a little off-kilter, in this author's opinion. There is also much speculation on how well he'd fit into more feminine outfits, like that oh-so-sexy bikini and swishy little fuku everyone likes.

He'd never actually thought of it himself, though he'd heard the rumors.

The blue sparkly miniskirt didn't look bad on him, he decided.

If it weren't blue. And sparkly.

After a moment of staring down at the funny blue-and-white bra-thing on his chest, Kamui decided it wasn't as bad as he thought it'd be, after all.

"Ah, it seems the drugs are finally kicking in on you." Hokuto started, after watching him eye himself in the mirror she'd summoned out of nowhere (what, like Kamui uses mirrors, after all those shards Fuuma threw at him during Kaori's last birthday party? Sha right).

Decked out in blue and sparkly and a tad bit of red, Kamui waggled his head in the cat's direction.

"Ah, so that's what all this is, anyway." Kamui raised an eyebrow. "A dream."

Well, it wasn't, but the cat wasn't going to argue. Not like she needed to, anyway.

And you thought it was going to be another cliffhanger. Oh. It probably still is, huh.