Quick thing: thanks, maxigiampieri2012 for following and favoriting! It's great to have you on board! Thanks, gjin19 for following! I'm very grateful for your support. Thanks, redwave166 for following both this piece and A Certain Strange Scenario! Glad to have you along for the ride.
It seems all of you lovely people (those of you who reviewed, at least; I assume those who've remained silent simply choose not to voice their opinion on the matter, if any opinion is present, which, is, of course, absolutely fine) approved of, or at least found the idea of Lessar receiving the beat down from Mrs. Kamijou to be humorous. I have to say, I'm somewhere in between. For attempting to be a potential homewrecker, I think Lessar deserved the punishment she received.
Of course, Lessar wasn't, and still likely isn't truly aware of the harmony our married couple possesses. I don't imagine she'd care, either way.
Response time is here, as always. Let's get into it, shall we?
321jaz: that I do, friend. That I do. Our characters still have a few things left to do, before their afternoon and evening in the Grand Kingdom come to a close. As you correctly assumed, we still have to go over the topic of Kakeru and Floris's talk. Things might not go entirely as planned.
I don't think the Kamijous in another time and place would approve of a film series whose core principal involves a dystopian future in which humanity is controlled and ruled over by militaristic machines. They'd have plenty of reasons to feel that way, I think I can safely say. I don't know if our own world has an equivalent! Someone might have an answer, for you. I certainly don't! No way! Nope!
You've got to hand it to the couple for trying. Still, they probably should've known better; trying to sneak past a former Magic God isn't an easy task, obviously. They're both terrible liars, too, it seems.
We just might. Times Change's narrative will peel back a few layers of the past, but not all. In time, all layers might be revealed, and the history behind our married couple explored fully, and completely. Time will tell.
Lemonade, lemonade everywhere. Much more where that came from. What you witnessed was only a few droplets spilling over from the keg.
That would just be too easy. In a way, it seems that Kamijou Touma's misfortune still haunts him; it just doesn't do so in the way it once did, prior to he and his girlfriend's first "mating ritual". It's taken on the form of a roadblock, rather than a constant barrage of instances of minor misfortune. Perhaps, in this regard, it's even upped the anti. It seems to specifically be trying to hijack the Kamijous' lives, rather than simply injecting Touma's life with episodes of frequent, and often painful misfortune. Of course, that's just one way of interpreting the matter.
Misaki didn't necessarily "rearrange" Lessar's face; she simply battered it to the point of bruising it, almost entirely, and causing rather severe bleeding. Lessar herself couldn't have been happy about such a fate. If that incident didn't get the point across – the point being, don't fool around with Kamijou Misaki – I don't know what possibly could. Lessar's always been just a bit stubborn. Besides, as you'll sooner than later find out, Lessar instigated the brawl, not just through words.
As always, I'm glad to know that I'm able to continually gain your approval!
DarkBetrayer: that's the recipe for lemonade. Here's to hoping that the end result was to your liking. Expect much more to come, DB-sensei.
Whwsms: it's far over nine thousand. The PTK2B level is likely eighteen thousand, at this point, and, that number will only keep steadily rising, as we get further, and further into the narrative of this piece.
You have the right idea. The lack of "ohoho" was likely intentional; Misaki knows her husband better than he even knows himself. As you predicted, Touma's restraint likely would've shattered, leading to quite the public display of indecency. There's always the chance that Misaki was simply saving the "ohoho". I can only imagine Yomikawa Aiho getting the call, and shaking her head, thinking, "damn Kamijous." Given that Judgment is made up of students, I'd imagine that they'd be forbidden from handling the situation, lest their minds be corrupted by the "mating ritual of Kami-yan".
Admittedly, everything related to Kamachi Kazuma's amazing work that I'll be writing about will be entirely based around the concept of Touma and Misaki being in a monogamous, romantic relationship, in some capacity or another, depending on the time in which the piece takes place. Any other ship, and, any sort of "Touma x harem" works won't be found in my portfolio. There're plenty of other individuals in the archive who are here to serve your Touma x harem needs! I'm sure you know that, though. I hope you, and all of my other lovely readers understand.
"Dad, we need to talk. I think I have a harem."
"Oh, God, no!"
I can confirm that there were, indeed, witnesses, most of whom were shocked when the final beat down was laid upon Lessar, as this event took place in Seventh Mist, on a particularly packed Friday evening. The brawl wasn't entirely one-sided; Lessar held her own, for a while, but, she was eventually subdued. It didn't help that most of the crowd that'd surrounded the confrontation seemed to be supporting "the Mental Out girl".
Full-on soap opera mode, passed down from Kumokawa Seria to Shokuhou Misaki, as she'd been known in the past, is a technique reserved only for truly dire circumstances.
As always, I'm glad to know that I can continue to gain your approval, friend. Here's to hoping you continue to enjoy subsequent chapters!
Anon Guest: the consequences were certainly brutal, and, from Lessar's point of view, unexpected. Since when had "the Mental Out girl" been so strong?
Both Accelerator, and Misaka Mikoto had been present, in fact, the former of whom had been quick to throw himself into the crowd, and cheer Misaki on, shouting, "fuck her up, fifth ranked! I've got the hero and the third ranked by the ass! Fuck her up!"
Kumokawa Seria herself hadn't been present. Someone related to her, however, had been, and was quick to report the news to Seria. Seria's reporter could only hear a loud round of applause, from the external speaker of her smartphone, and exclamations of "record it! Record it al!"
I'm glad to know that I gained your stamp of approval, friend! I hope to be able to consistently do so!
Guest00: as great of an idea as that is, I'm afraid that I have to confirm that Bloody Fist is, in fact, a reboot of a previous series of fighting games, "Bloody Tournament", the first game of which hit the markets before Misaki or Touma were even born. Perhaps, the incident was a case of "life imitating art", even unintentionally?
Guest00 (again!): that's an interesting idea. While Mikoto is already in a relationship, the idea of three-way liaisons wouldn't be entirely out of the question, as you'll sooner than later find out. Whether or not Mikoto actually has feelings for Sogiita Gunha is an idea that's up for debate, though, as you suggest, her interactions with him certainly seem to hint that this might be the case. That we will, friend, that we will. As always, time will tell.
Geust's Account: hey there, friend! It's great to have your input again. I really enjoyed reading your thoughts on what the characters of Kamachi's canon might think of their alternate timeline counterparts – I definitely had more than one very hearty chuckle!
Yup. Inside a lift car, of all the places. It's a case of "nature calls" I suppose.
How much do you know? You're onto something. The Kumokawa Seria of the present is very different, when compared to the Kumokawa Seria of the past. We'll be digging into these changes sooner than later, but, for the time being, you lovely people might just be getting a little taste test.
I have to say, I agree. Sometimes, all it takes is one spark to ignite a full-blown blaze. Who knows where fate will lead the two?
Estelle might enjoy herself just a bit too much.
Kamijou Touma raised an eyebrow, inquisitively, though Misaki couldn't see it, due to his head being stuffed beneath her shirt. That made his lack of a response all the more unnerving. Had she upset her husband? He always had been quite humble, and somewhat reserved, in regards to his sexuality, after all. Had she overstepped her boundaries, or, more likely, her husband's boundaries? With his wife's "unserviced" nipple removed from his mouth, somewhat reluctantly, Touma produced a curious-sounding "hm". This was certainly an interesting question.
"A… dirty movie? You mean a porno? You want to make a homemade porno? Am I getting this right? Like the ones we made before? Are we just going to stuff it in a box, like those ones, or…?"
Kamijou Misaki shook her head, no, slowly, as she blushed, and lowering her head, downwards, as if she was ashamed of herself, she looked to her lap. "I am so proud to call you my husband. I just want to flaunt you, and show you off. I want to show the entire world just how much I love you, and that… that you are mine. I want everyone to see that you are mine, and there are few better ways to show that then to engage in an act of lovemaking."
The relative awkwardness was shrugged off, as Kamijou Misaki's lips curled into a wide, aroused smirk, the edges of her lips nearly reaching her cheeks. "We will discuss this when you are finished. Did I tell you that you could stop sucking, little commoner? No. I did not tell you that. Continue, please me."
"Yes, Ojou-Sama." Again, the small, pink protrusion was placed inside of Kamijou Touma's mouth, his lips placed over, and beneath his wife's left breast. He grunted, as he forced his hands upwards, into the cuffs of Misaki's pants. He began to stroke her soft, bare legs.
They were beyond smooth, their skin so pink, and creamy in coloration. He wanted to lick them clean, from top to bottom. Touma wanted to lick, and kiss his wife's whole body, from head to toe. Especially to toe; but that was too weird. That'd have to stay locked up.
Then, something happened that pushed Kamijou Touma over the edge. Thus far, he'd maintained mastery over his sexual desire, and his savagery; up until this point, the beast within had remained caged, locked away, clawing at thin air through the bars of its proverbial cell. That's all it had been able to do. No matter how much it wanted to be unleashed, it couldn't be. It lacked the proverbial, opposable thumbs to claw, ravenously, at the lock of its cage with any sort of success.
It was suddenly unleashed, with a singular vocalization produced by Kamijou Misaki. The words that followed the vocalization only helped to egg the beast on. The door of the beast's cage was torn open, the lock falling to the ground of Touma's subconscious mind, forgotten, as his higher mind gave in to the need to find bestial, savage pleasure.
"Ohhhohoho! A little peasant boy, suckling on his Queen's nipples, hoping to have even a droplet of her milk drip down, into his dirty, little mouth. What a pitiful sight to see, indeed."
Kamijou Touma lost control, the proverbial beast rampaging throughout the corridors of his mind, crashing into walls, salivating, and snarling. He began to grunt, and moan, aggressively, as he grabbed hold, as gently as he could manage, of his wife's thick, muscular calves, and began to lick around the surface of her left breast, slowly, but surely spit-shining it, rubbing it down with his tongue, plastering it with his saliva. Grabbing her husband's hair, and failing to hold back the loud, pleasured moans that fled her lips, Misaki writhed in place, her body shivering in pleasure.
"Ojou-Sama… can I please have another taste of your milk? I'm so thirsty, Ojou-Sama," Touma muttered, almost incoherently, between the smacking of his lips, and the grunts he produced.
"Beg, commoner," Misaki huffed. "You are lucky that you are even sucking on my nipples. You should be grateful that I am even allowing you this, you dirty-mouthed little man. You are barely worthy of looking at me."
Touma's manhood pulsated, shifting in place within his boxers. He loved it. The words of scorn, simply lines thought of on the fly by his wife, as part of their roleplaying experience, never having any sort of legitimate meaning, got him off so much. He loved the idea of being lower than his wife, somehow, even if, in reality, such a thing couldn't've been farther from the truth. It was a fantasy, and, in a fantasy, anything could happen. Equals could become separated as Queens and servants for the purpose of sexual gratification.
"I know I don't deserve it, Ojou-Sama, I'm begging you, please, let me have another taste. Just one. I know I'm so far below you that I could never hope to climb the social ladder to be your equal. This is where I belong, Ojou-Sama, at your feet, serving you, begging for the chance to even look at you. I'm nothing, and you're everything, my Queen."
Another one. Misaki had already broken his resolve. This was just fuel tossed into the raging, crackling, proverbial fire, that burned within Kamijou Touma, the fire that drove him nuts. He loved this woman, his wife, so much. She was so perfect.
"Ohhhhhohoho! Such a desperate little servant. That is all you are, to me, to your Ojou-Sama, your Queen. You are not worthy to even lick the bottoms of my shoes."
"I'd be honored to lick them clean, Ojou-Sama, at least, then I'd be fulfilling my only purpose, to serve my Queen," Touma mumbled, like a rabid animal, so lost in his own pleasure that his vision had partly blurred. It swam, as the taste of Misaki's breast assaulted his taste buds. With his tongue making its third run over her left nipple, Touma began to feel it pulsate, just as the right nipple had, before it. Kamijou Touma switched his method, and began to kiss the soft, warm, fleshy protrusion, softly, and gently.
Throwing her head back, Kamijou Misaki's moan turned to pleasured shriek, after a few minutes; another mouthful of delicious, warm breastmilk rushed into her husband's mouth, and began to drip down from his lower lip, and along his chin. Touma's eyes closed, as he groaned in ecstasy. Misaki tugged on her husband's hair, as he happily swallowed every morsel of the lifegiving substance, licking his lower lip, and his chin, trying to lap up every last drop.
"Drink lots! Drink lots, peasant! Do not waste even a single gulp!" Misaki cried aloud, writhing in place, falling deeper and deeper in the throes of pleasure. Her mind practically reeled, at the constant barrage of sexual stimulation.
Touma couldn't hold back. He was no longer in control, in any capacity. His most primeval needs took control, and forced his sense of reason into submission, savagely pummeling it until it was little more than a whimpering lump, dying, in a cobweb-ridden corner of his mind.
"You want to make a porno? A "dirty movie", beautiful?" Touma inquired, pulling his head out from beneath his wife's shirt.
Smiling down at him, her cheeks glowing bright pink, she panted, slightly, as she began to regain her senses. Placing both of the palms of her hands to Kamijou Touma's cheeks, Kamijou Misaki leaned forward, and answered, "yes, handsome. I want to show the world how much I adore making love to you. I want them to see that you belong to me; that you are the Queen's Prince."
"You're on. Casting call!" Touma exclaimed, loudly, as he rose up from the floor, and sat himself back on the seat, next to his wife. "Of course, there's only one performer I want, beautiful. You fit the role perfectly. You're the only one who ever could."
Misaki blushed, heavily, as she began to savagely kiss her husband's neck. Lips smacking against his neck, tongue rolling over her husband's bare flesh, Misaki hands fell to the bulge, protruding violently in Touma's pants, as she began to massage it. "Touma… Touma… husband… I want your manhood. I want it so bad, Touma. I want to feel your enormous, thick manhood."
"I think I might have to take you up on your earlier offer. I've gotta cum. I need it. Really quick. Just jerk me off, and let me cum in your mouth. Nobody's going to see. We've got a while to go, before our car gets back to that little cottage. If I don't cum, I'm going to lose it. You're turning me on so much. I feel like it's calling to me, beautiful. Are you comfortable with that? Can I cum in your mouth? Less mess, that way. I don't have anything on me to shoot it into, and I honestly can't wait until we get home. I feel like I'm going to explode. If you don't want to, it's honestly cool, don't get me wrong. No pressure, beautiful!"
Pointing to the window, and to the sea of neon lights below, Misaki's vision followed her husband's index finger. The car wasmoving rather slowly, after all. A part of her hoped they'd get stuck in the air, and have a few hours, or even days, to themselves.
"Of course I want to. You are so sweet, so caring. Thank you, handsome. To answer your question: fuck yes, love of my life, one handjob coming up. For you, I will do more than just swallow that delicious seed of yours; I will even throw in a blowjob, as well," Misaki mumbled, happily, as her cheeks began to glow a bright shade of red. Misaki hoped there were cameras watching. She also hoped that the footage somehow, through some strange series of coincidences, made its way to the inboxes, physical or digital, of her husband's admirer's, especially those she couldn't necessarily count as being "former" admirers.
She wasted no time in first pulling her husband's pants, just a bit, just enough to expose his boxers, with his undergarments following suit. There it was. Enormous, tall, complete with a full head of foreskin; just enough for the hard, fleshy thing to be perfectly attractive. It was Misaki's, and only Misaki's. Licking her lips, with her eyebrows raised, Kamijou Misaki went to work. Stretching herself out, Misaki laid herself down on her belly, across the seat of the lift car, and, raising her legs into the air, Misaki moved in for the kill.
The taste was amazing. It was her favorite taste, in the whole, wide world. Salty-tasting, yet, sweet-tasting as well, her husband's manhood's cleanliness was just another factor that made him the perfect, ultimate lover. The setting made it all the better. Being exposed, like this, brought Misaki's burning desire to its boiling point.
Though his stamina proved to be both a hindrance and a blessing, Kamijou Misaki enjoyed herself, throughout the fifteen minutes in which she tugged on, licked, kissed, and sucked on the head of Kamijou Touma's manhood, offering her husband a taste of heaven, by treating his solid, fleshy rod to a "servicing". The rather slow rate of progress could also be attributed to Misaki's preference for milking her husband's manhood softly, and gently, as not to cause him any sort of friction burn, or other pain.
Throughout the lewd display of "public" indecency, Misaki's eyes were closed, as she embraced the feeling of having the manhood she adored so much once again, as well as its amazing taste. She'd missed it, in the time that she hadn't been able to play with it, which she knew had only been a few hours. That was still too much for Kamijou Misaki's liking.
Up and down, then, down and up, both of her closed hands traveled. Kiss after kiss, and lick after lick, Touma's moaning grew louder, and more pleasured, by the minute. With both of his hands on her head, his wife occasionally physically encouraged him, through a series of taps on his left wrist, to push her head downwards, so that she could take his manhood deep into the depths of her throat.
Finally, the change of positions was felt by both parties. Kamijou Misaki felt her husband's manhood begin to throb. From the bottom of its shaft, to the top of its head, the thing pulsated, and shook slightly.
"B-beautiful, I'm going to cum," Touma casually announced, his rate of breathing increasing, as he grabbed at his wife's hair, tugging on it gently enough to pleasure her, but not anywhere near enough to cause her any sort of pain. Even when on the border of orgasm, Kamijou Touma still subconsciously knew just how to handle his beloved with caution, and care.
Misaki swiftly removed her lips from the tip of Kamijou Touma's manhood, and relinquished her grip on it, somewhat reluctantly. Looking to her husband, there were globs of a clear, thick liquid dripping down her lower lip. Kamijou Touma's wife grinned. She was going to enjoy this roleplaying session, too, just as much as her husband was. Running her tongue over her lips, and across her chin, she cleared the liquid, and swallowed, slowly, holding the droplets in her throat, for some seconds, before she passed them all the way down.
"Ohhhhhhhohoho! You think I was going to allow you to cum that easily, commoner-boy? Beg. Beg your Queen for the right to cum in her mouth. Have you been staring at my ass, too, while I was laying on my belly? Dirty, filthy peasant. I bet you want to slap a condom on, and fuck it, while you spank it, until it's red. Do you want to fuck me in the ass? You are so disgusting, peasant. I… I bet you even want to cum in it, too. Ugh! You are appalling."
"I do want to. I know I can't, though, because I'm so much lower than you. I'd be lucky if you let me jerk off to you," Touma muttered, desperation in his voice. His hands moved towards his manhood, but, Misaki quickly shook her head.
"No. No masturbating, peasant boy. You only masturbate when I tell you to, and when I give you permission. Besides, we're in public. In a sense. I hope someone sees us. I hope someone like Itsuwa-san, or Kanzaki-san sees us. Maybe Misaka-san and Shirai-san will see us, and want to join us, in an orgy. Maybe Sanctis-san will see us, and faint."
Somehow, for some reason, likely because his mind was completely under the control of his physical needs, an orgy actually sounded like a really good idea, to Kamijou Touma. The idea of being able to show his wife off, as well as her constant desire to take his manhood, was an appealing one. The jealous faces of his fellow males filled his mind. Kamijou Touma grinned, slightly, almost malevolently.
"You're rubbing off on me, beautiful. Eight years ago, I never could've imagined thinking like this. Never could've imagined fucking in public, either. Well, partially in public. Not really. Not really fucking either. Kinda curious to know how Misaka and Shirai get off, too, now that you mention it. Do they… do they use a double-ended dildo, or something? Maybe they eat each other out. Man, that's weird. Why am I thinking about them like that? Oh well. Just curious, I guess. No harm in it."
"Please, Ojou-Sama? Can I please cum? Please? If I don't cum, I'm going to get blue balls. I'm so close. Can you please swallow my cum, Ojou-Sama, so I don't make a mess? It's… it's good for you! It's got protein!"
Misaki held back a giggle. She didn't want to break character, after all. "Corny husband. You are going to ruin our fantasy. It is okay. If you do, I forgive you. I will always forgive you."
"Just because you asked so nicely. At least you know your manners, peasant-boy," Misaki responded, with a confident, haughty huff.
A few tugs, with her right hand, and a number of long, soft kisses later, and Kamijou Touma seized up. Quickly removing his hands from within the strands of his wife's hair, he wrapped his left hand around Misaki's own available hand, and interlocked his fingers with hers. His entire body was shaking. With his head thrown back, he began to groan, loudly, the vocalizations long, and pleasured, in their sound, as Kamijou Misaki's entire stomach began to flutter, like butterflies were beating their wings, and crashing against the inner walls of the organ.
She loved bringing her husband to the point of climax. An orgasm was the ultimate enjoyment. That's all she ever wanted, for him. Misaki just wanted her everything to enjoy himself, after all that they'd been through together. He deserved enjoyment, and so much more. Her husband deserved everything the world had to offer him on a silver platter.
"Do you want to cum for me? I can feel you! You are so close, now! Just a tiny bit more!" Misaki exclaimed, excitedly, panting, her breaths quick, and labored. "Cum for me, baby! Let your wife have all of that perfect, thick semen. All mine. Your semen belongs to me. I want all of it, as much of it as I can get. Bathe me in it. Cum inside of me, all over my back! Cum for me! Ah, you have so much stamina! You are unbreakable! Fuck, I LOVE it! I love having to work for your cum! Ah, there's always so MUCH! I want to swallow it all! I cannot wait until I am riding you, and working your testicles dry, again! I love you, Touma! I love you so… so fucking much!"
"F…fuck… Fuck, fuck, fuck… FUCK. I love you, oh fuck. I'm cumming. I love you, Misaki, I fucking love you so much. FUCK, I'm cumming so much… don't choke, you're so beautiful, fuck, I love you! It feels so fucking GOOD! BEST! WIFE! EVER!"
Like foam sprayed from the nozzle of a firehose, Kamijou Touma's seed filled his wife's mouth. Sweet, and salty-tasting, Misaki, cheeks glowing pink, moaning loudly, in absolute ecstasy, began to swallow the expunged seed. Her eyelids split open, as her starry eyes rolled back, into her skull. She was in heaven. Her heart was beating quickly, and small droplets of sweat had formed on her forehead. Trickling down, her moaning continued, partially-obstructed, by what thick, white, milky liquid remained in her mouth. She wanted to gargle it, then, she wanted to rip her sleeveless top off, and spit it onto her breasts. She wanted to use it as lubricant.
"So much warm, thick cum… you are amazing…" Following one, long, final gulp, Kamijou Misaki licked what remained of the expunged reproductive fluid away, happily swallowing it, as well, wetness forming in her femininity, and bringing moisture to her panties. She then smiled; it hardly looked like anything had happened at all. A thorough cleaning indeed.
"Best husband ever. I love you too, so much. I'm glad I could help you feel good. It was only fair that I repaid you, for the… service… you performed, on my own body. You are so handsome. I wish I could answer your call, and service you, whenever you needed it. I want to be your little helper, Touma. I want to drop to my knees, whenever you call for me, and give you as many handjobs, and as many blowjobs as you want, whenever you want them… look at me, becoming all submissive. That is your job, husband."
Touma quickly pulled his undergarments, and his pants back up, shelving his manhood until it would next be needed; Touma hoped that the wait wouldn't be a long one. "I want to kiss you so badly, but… yeah. No. We need to visit a bathroom, or something. Rinse with some very, very warm water. Man, this was really weird, but… I kind of really enjoyed the weirdness."
"Agreed," Misaki giggled, rising up from her position on the seat, and stretching. "I love kissing you, as well. I wish we could spend an entire week simply laying in bed with you, I just want to be kissing, cuddling… making love… but, we will need to sanitize, first. We are both dirty-mouths. Of course, you are hardly anywhere near done with licking. In the end, sanitization might just be for naught. That tongue of yours is going to have plenty of work to do."
"Yeah? Is that so? That's good. I want it. I want to fucking taste you. I wasn't kidding about the porno, either," Touma stated. "I'm actually down. You think I don't want to show you off? Fuck yeah, I want to show you off. I want everyone to know that I'm the only man who's ever going to touch you."
Producing a pleasured, contented sigh, Misaki wrapped her arms around her husband's waist. Touma placed his own right arm protectively around his wife's shoulder, and held her as close as he physically could, the fingers of his left hand falling to Misaki's left arm. He slowly ran the tips of his left hand's fingers over his wife's arm, gently tracing small lines. Kamijou Misaki produced a soft vocalization, as she nuzzled Kamijou Touma.
"You are the only man I could ever want, the only man I have ever wanted," Misaki spoke. "I want everyone to know that. I want to actually "leak" this one. It is so dirty, so perverted… I love it. I want everyone to see, and know that we are beyond their expectations."
Kamijou Misaki felt like she was falling more and more in love with Kamijou Touma, as he began to nuzzle her in return; he tightened his right arm's grip around her shoulders, and rubbed his nose against Misaki's right cheek.
"I love how affectionate you always are, how unconditional your love for me, for our family is. I love how cuddly you get, after you experience an orgasm, for me. Please, do not ever change. You are perfect just the way you are, baby. You are the definition of the word "perfect".
Fighting back the urge to kiss his wife, Touma settled for rubbing his nose against her cheek. "Don't plan to, beautiful. I don't want you to ever change, either. You're always so unconditionally loving with me, too. I love it. I need it. You, Index, Othi-chan, you're my happiness. Especially you… my love for you, and my love for Index and Othi-chan are really different. Not lesser than one another, just different. You know? You were the first one to step into my life, and break down all of the stupid barriers I'd put up around me. I'm glad you did. I'm so glad you did. I can't even explain how glad I am that you did. I adore you, Misaki."
"Whenever you speak your heart, and your mind to me," Misaki remarked, softly, eyes becoming moist, and closing, in an attempt to push the moisture back, "you just cause my body and mind to want to make love to you. Before I met you, on that fateful summer's day, Kamijou Touma, I'd often wondered what love was like. It was soon after I saw your face, for the first time, that I learned. I adore you too, Touma.
"Speaking of… back then, however… eheheh… Did I ever apologize for hitting you with my purse?"
"More than once," Touma remarked, chuckling quietly. "It's okay, beautiful, I promise. We were just two kids, fooling around. It didn't really even hurt that much, and you didn't hit me that hard. If you hit me with your purse, right now, well, that would hurt. That would hurt a LOT. You've got a heck of a swing, you know."
"Oh, Touma! I never would!" Misaki exclaimed, cuddling closer to her husband, and increasing the rate in which she nuzzled him. "I never want to hurt you. I do want to make you scream for me, but I want those screams to be of pleasure, not of pain. I just want to take care of you, my big, cuddly bear."
Kamijou Misaki's body was warm, and comforting for Kamijou Touma to hold onto. She'd been right, as always, of course; post-orgasm, Touma always did quickly begin seeking a cuddling session. Further supporting his "best wife ever" thesis was the fact that Misaki was always ready and willing to switch gears, in order to jump efficiently from "sex mode" to "cuddling mode". She was a miracle worker.
"Bear, huh? I guess I am just a big, old teddy bear," Touma remarked, with a hearty, deep laugh. "So, how are you feeling, beautiful? Satisfied? I hope so. This was all kind of beyond our usual comfort zones, but… there was something really enjoyable about this. The possibility of being caught, however small, was definitely there, and it made everything more intense. Am I making sense?"
"You are. You always speak sensibly. I agree; the intensity was absolutely thrilling. I think we might need to engage in this sort of behavior more often… I am beyond satisfied," Misaki remarked, releasing a long, contented sigh. "I was craving you since we stepped foot out of our home this morning. I was craving you as soon as we ceased our previous lovemaking session. If I could perpetually make love to you, nonstop, I would do so. On the topic of foot, or, feet, let us have a talk about fetishes."
"Fetishes?" Touma inquired. "Where's this coming from? Not that I mind. I have, like, one, if you count me liking your legs a lot as a fetish. Y'know, "breast fetishes" and fetishes involving female genitalia are technically "weird" fetishes, too; kind of. Not really? I'm definitely trying to stall for time."
"Touma, baby," Misaki spoke, softly. "There is no need to stall. If you are not comfortable discussing kinks you, yourself are not entirely familiar with, with me, you do not have to. It was simply something I thought I would bring up, given the circumstances… hehehe. The last thing I would want to do is make you feel uncomfortable, my love. When, and if you are ready, we will discuss it."
With a smile, Kamijou Misaki shrugged. "I just want to know if there is anything else I could do, involving my feet, that would get you off. I know you like it, when I rub them all over your manhood, and stimulate you with them. You can cum all over them, any time that you want. I welcome it. You can do anything you'd like, with any part of my body. Anything, anywhere. I welcome it all. Explore me all you'd like."
Touma sighed in defeat. His inner male got the better of him yet again. It was just so weird! It wasn't normal. Kamijou Touma wasn't some sort of deviant, for crying out loud! There was no way he could step into the realm of the Musujimes, or Aogami. Then again, was licking his wife's legs in order to achieve a "different" kind of sexual gratification "normal"? What was "normal", even? Normal was just a word. Why base his sex life, and that of his wife's, around a word? "I… uh… I think it would be easier for me, to, uh, just show you, when we get home. I think I'd feel a lot more comfortable… you know, experimenting, in our room. A bit more romantic, too. Yeah, I'm a drag, I know."
Misaki rubbed the tip of her nose against her husband's. Apparently, until their mouths could be sanitized, this would have to be the equivalent of an affectionate kiss. "You are no drag. You are so, so sweet, and so absolutely adorable. I think I would like such an exploration to be conducted in a safe, romantic environment, as well. I understand completely, baby. If, even then, you still do not feel comfortable, there is no pressure on you. There never is. Your wants, needs, and emotions are just as important as mine."
"And vice versa," Touma remarked. "Thanks for understanding, beautiful. You'd think, in my mid twenties, I'd have a better understanding of myself, of my sexuality, and everything like that. I… I know my, uh, growth was kind of stunted, before we started dating. That's something I'm realistic enough to admit. Maybe that's got something to do with it. I always felt like it was something I couldn't work with, like it was something forbidden. I guess… I guess I just tried to lock it all up. Maybe it screwed me up, a bit? When everyone else my age was experimenting with themselves, I was kind of, like, "no?"
Without removing her nose from her husband's, Misaki smiled, widely, and looked deeply into Touma's eyes. His dark irises reflected the sea of multicolored neon beyond them. They reflected her own face, and her big, starry eyes. They reflected her enormous, unfalteringly, unquestioningly adoring smile.
"Yes, you did lock it all up. You did hold back, when other young men were, as you worded the matter, "experimenting". However, you had good reason for doing so. You were trying to be responsible. As always. You have always been much more mature than those around you, Touma. That is just an honest observation.
"Every new day is a learning experience. Every day that I spend with you, as your wife, and as your friend, I find that I learn new things about myself. We are creatures who live to learn, and learn to live."
"Smartie pants," Touma chuckled. He was constantly being blown away by her intelligence. Every time he thought his wife couldn't become any more intelligent, she shattered that illusion without even trying. "You're so smart, you know that? It doesn't surprise me, these days. You just get smarter and smarter. It's really a turn-on. I love being able to discuss deep subjects with you, ones that make me think.
"Like, aliens. You think there're aliens, Misaki? Monitoring us? You think they're friendly? Little silver men, or, the big, nasty green ones without eyes, and way too many teeth? Maybe they'd be just like us. You know, different skin colors, eye colors, hair, all that."
Misaki looked to the ceiling, as she moved away, a few inches, from her husband. In her left hand, she took her husband's right, and began to softly massage its palm between her fingers. Kamijou Misaki raised her right hand's index finger to her lower lip, as she produced a soft, curious-sounding vocalization.
"Certain stories, such as the explanation given for the images captured during the "the Battle of Los Angeles" do not quite add up. Still, I believe there is a rational explanation for all things in this world, my love. Well, for the most part. There are some things that simply cannot be explained, even by a rational mind. Archangels, meteor-throwing Magic Gods, and naked, veil-wearing serpent-women are among those things that cannot be explained."
"I don't hate a lot of things, beautiful, but I really do hate those snake-girls," Touma mumbled, an unusual chill rushing through his bones. His form awkwardly shuddered, as he looked left, and then right, as if he was afraid that the monsters would sneak out, from beneath him, seeking his blood. "So many fangs. So many tails. So much poison. If it hadn't been for Imagine Breaker… yeah, I'd rather not think about that one."
"There are no serpent-women here," Misaki spoke, softly. "Just us. There are no threats, here. Just love. My big, strong, cuddly husband, nothing will hurt you, so long as I am here."
Touma nodded, his lips curling into a warm, welcoming smile. He nuzzled the side of his wife's head, inhaling the intoxicating smell of her blonde, honey-scented hair, as he did so. Leaning backwards, Kamijou Touma folded his arms behind the back of his head, and rested his head against them. With his arms leaning against the interior of the lift car, he nodded his head, upwards, raising his eyebrows.
Wordlessly, a smiling Kamijou Misaki crawled into her husband's lap, facing him. Wrapping her arms around his torso, Misaki set the left side of her face against his torso, and produced a soft, quiet vocalization, a small "mm." Nuzzling Touma's torso with the side of her face, Misaki's eyelids slowly closed shut.
The remainder of their ride was one of comfortable silence. Though Kamijou Misaki ended up dosing off, still cuddling closely to her husband even in her light slumber, Touma remained awake, and looked out, from the lift car's interior, to Academy City beyond.
The sun was no longer present, in the sky. It had taken the daylight it provided with it, and left an oddly eerie, moonlit darkness behind. Touma could see the odd start in the sky, sparkling. He wondered just how far away they really were, from the surface of the planet he lived on. He felt like he was oddly small, in comparison to the wide, endless realm known simply as "space" beyond the atmosphere of his species' cradle.
There was one object, floating perpetually in the sky, slowly following the lift car he and his wife had engaged in their lude acts within, which Kamijou Touma had failed to notice. He couldn't have been blamed for doing so; it was constantly moving around the lift car, constantly remaining just out of sight. Not even Misaki had seen it.
It was a small drone. White, in coloration, along its surfaces, thick, dark blue-colored lines ran from one end to the other. Above all four of its small, white-colored triangular wings, one of which sat in all four of the piece of tech's corners, there was a singular, perpetually spinning propeller. Attached to the front of the drone's surface, there was a dark-colored bulb, constructed of glass, which reflected the brightness of the flashing neon lights beneath it.
It had been recording the entire time. The party recording the Kamijous' mating ritual meant them no harm, however. In fact, she wanted nothing more than to join them in their pleasurable escapades.
Somewhere, in a certain Supreme Superintendent's personal quarters, an absolutely stunning beauty sat, on a tall, luxurious, dark-colored, throne-like chair. Black, in coloration, the practical, formal throne was constructed of leather and dark-colored, reflective metal. This beauty, with long, black hair, tied in a messy bun, that flopped to one side of her head, repeatedly inserted a small, pink-colored, vibrating, vaguely phallic-shaped object into herself, with her right hand, moaning aloud, as she did so. With her left hand, she massaged her left breast, repeatedly, gently tugging on its soft, red nipple.
In her mind's eye, Kamijou Misaki was sucking on it, as Kamijou Touma had been sucking on Kamijou Misaki's nipple. In her mind's eye, rather than a vibrating piece of plastic, the object she used for self-pleasure was, in fact, not an object at all. It was Kamijou Touma's manhood.
"C-can't w-we have a t-three-way m-marriage? I w-want… you… b-both of y-you… Ah! Too deep! Too deep! O-ouch."
It seemed that "the Grand Kingdom" didn't have much of a nightlife to it. The light brown, cobblestone walkways of the "Den of Debauchery" section, represented in the lower, left hand corner of the map, depicted on the Kingdom's many map signs, which were scattered throughout "the Grand Kingdom", were mostly clear of pedestrians.
It wasn't beyond one of those few pedestrians who were present, namely, Kamisato Kakeru, to comment on this fact. There was ice to be broken, and, break it he would, so that he could get to the wondrous female form that lurked just beneath the surface of the proverbial icefield.
"Not a lot of people around," Kakeru stated, attempting to break the awkward silence. "I expected something a bit more… sinful. With a name like "the Den of Debauchery", I was partly expecting to meet with orgies in the streets, and drunkards wandering about, aimlessly."
"Don't know where you've been looking," Floris responded, her hands stuffed aggressively, and quite roughly into the pockets of her uniform's pants, "I've seen a few drunks."
"Almost as red-faced as I am… I need to figure out what I'm even doing. I need to stop sending Kamisato-san all these stupid, mixed signals. I need to make a decision and stick with it."
Kakeru shrugged, indifferently. He'd royally screwed himself over. He'd need to engage in some real tactical maneuvers in order to get Floris's legs back open. Losing her wasn't an option. Her unique, monolithic posterior was one in a million, and, he wanted to bury his face, among other parts of his body in it. That wasn't going to happen, if Floris remained cold, and distant. Where was "Kamisato Disease", when he needed it most?
"So. Where are we going? I said, that I was going to take you out, this evening, and, I still intend to. Everything, so far, has been… undesirable. This park's bars are a joke. Perhaps, some sort of family restaurant would be better idea? What do you think, Floris-san?"
"I think," Floris began, but, soon, her words drifted off. She'd been quick to jump the gun. Floris had nowhere to go, no point to make, besides the point that obviously needed to be made, if she was going to get anywhere with Kamisato Kakeru. That, for some reason, unknown to Floris's higher mind, was easier said than done. Regardless, she swallowed her stubborn pride, and spoke her piece, as best as she could, as best as she knew how.
"Why dodge the issue?"
Kakeru raised an eyebrow, and tilted his head to the side, inquisitively.
"The issue of what happened, earlier, when you used your hand to get rid of that girl, and then, to get rid of that… weird man. Do you not have control over your hand? I remember something about a switch."
Passing by a small collection of structures, adult-oriented facilities, mostly, including an apparently functioning "brothel" – surely, this "Uncle Bob's Brothel" had to be some kind of odd performance art gone awry – Kakeru produced a soft "hmm." He had to take a moment to think, to contemplate, and to answer the questions posed to him as carefully as possible. Kakeru felt like he was diffusing a ticking time bomb; even if he was a skilled technician, Kamisato Kakeru was still under pressure.
He looked away from Floris, and to the structures they passed by, as if they could possibly give him the answers he sought. Tightly packed, the rows of structures flanked either side of the cobbled walkway.
Accessed by staircases of concrete, or possibly some sort of advanced Academy City-exclusive concrete substitute, the adult-oriented facilities were square-shaped, simplistic in their design. Their respective fronts were metallic, dark in coloration, and contained large panes of glass, which offered passersby glimpses into the interiors of the facilities.
Each concrete, or concrete substitute staircase lead up to a large, reinforced metallic door, some of which were open, some of which were closed. All of the structures' interiors were illuminated; those with their doors open allowed rays of golden, synthetic light to escape into the world beyond their interiors.
Atop the structures, neon lights, arranged in patterns, to form words, and symbols, bathed the former New Light operative, and the Bearer of the World Rejector in their glows. Some were flashing, others were static, continuously producing a solid, unyielding glow of multicolored neon.
"There's a lot to explain, Floris-san," Kakeru finally remarked. He still didn't have any sort of strategy. In a way, Kakeru felt almost guilty for treating this young woman as if she was some sort of vault, that needed to be cracked with time and patience. Kakeru, despite the power in his right hand, and, despite his many heroics, was still a mere man; and men always had weaknesses, vices, to hold them back, and drag them down. Why this odd sense of remorse was hitting him, at this point, of all the points in time, Kakeru didn't know.
For all intents and purposes, Kamisato Kakeru was going in blind. This would be his first time in a long time in which he'd do so. He offered the young, golden-haired woman next to him his left hand, fingers open. He wore a neutral facial expression, but held himself confidently, his back arched, his shoulders casually set in a natural position.
Inwardly, Kakeru was nervous. The switch in his courtship ritual's mechanics was swift, and unexpected. If he was going to expose himself, and allow himself to be vulnerable, despite his gut telling him to stick with "plan A" – "plan A" entailing the continued objectification of this woman – he'd need to at least manage to keep his cool.
"Go on. I insist. Take my hand. I'll try to put everything into perspective for you, Floris-san."
Somehow, even if she'd witnessed this young man literally make two people completely disappear, just minutes apart from one another, even if he hadn't, and still didn't seem very torn up about it, Floris still found herself blushing, and looking to her mud-covered shoes, and the brown-colored, cobbled walkway beneath them.
"It almost feels like something is compelling me… what is it about this guy that's driving me so crazy? Why do I still just want nothing more than to fuck his brains out? Why has it always been so hard to stay mad at him?!"
Floris's hand was reaching out, towards Kamisato Kakeru's, before she even consciously realized that the extremity seemed to be moving of its own accord. With the palm of her right hand set in his right, Kakeru smirked, in the young woman's direction.
"It's okay, Floris-san. Let it happen. I won't hurt you, I promise. Not all instances of a man and a woman interacting with one another need to play out like they do on the silver screen. Life is strange. Accept the strangeness for what it is, welcome it. Strangeness, going against "the norm" can be quite rewarding."
"D-does this happen t-to you o…o-often, Kamisato-san? I've always seen you b-being followed a-around by lots of… r-really attractive w-women," Floris stuttered, awkwardly. It felt good, her hand sitting in Kakeru's own. His skin was smooth, and soft, his hand's grasp on her own gentle. Floris's blush deepened, to an even darker shade of red, as tears began to form in the corners of her eyes. Just what was happening to her, even?!
Floris started, and produced a sudden, startled vocalization. Swiftly, Kakeru had raised Floris's hand to his lips. He'd placed a kiss to the top of the extremity. His lips, of all the lips in the world, had connected with her skin. Her skin, the skin that belonged to the mortal form of Floris. Floris felt like she was on the verge of fainting.
"Y-you're moving so f-fast! W-we barely know each other! I don't mind… or do I? You're such a gentleman! What's even happening? Why am I so smitten? I want you, Kamisato-chan! Wait, chan?"
"You could say that. I'm involved in an… interesting, sometimes strenuous, but harmonious relationship. I suppose that's another thing I could talk about. You know, Floris-san, you're beautiful. I'm sure you know that, but, regardless, it's a compliment that's well-deserved. You're exotic. You have wonderful eyes, and your skin is so smooth, like the softest of fabrics. Your hair looks very soft, and extremely clean. Does it always fall, naturally, like that? Like the feathers of some majestic, avian creature?"
Kamisato Kakeru had it. He knew, in his heart, and in his mind, with years of experience to solidify his confidence, that the bomb had been diffused. He was getting closer, and closer. To what, though? Kakeru felt terrible, for having spent so long objectifying this woman, but, this change of heart felt so sudden. What had suddenly come over him? Perhaps, Floris wouldn't be the only party having their questions answered, or, at least, made known to another.
"T-thank… y-you… K-Kamisato-san… you're s-so sweet…" Floris mumbled, weakly. "L-look… bar, and g-grill. U-up there. L-let's grab something. I'm s-starving! You're making me so hungry, Kamisato-chan! This is all so strange… but I know I want this!"
A small band of drunken youths stumbled out of one of the facilities, which the duo had just happened to pass by, as Floris uttered her awkward, high-pitched confession.
"Yeah! Fuck her, dude! Oh, man, this motherfucker's so lucky! He's totally getting his cock sucked!" One of the young men exclaimed, completing his exclamation with a sharp, short laugh.
"Man, shut the fuck up," another scolded. He shoved his companion down the stairs, with a mighty, drunken thrust. Stumbling, the first of the group of youths tumbled down the concrete staircase, and crumpled, upon meeting the cobbled walkway.
"Dude! That was so much fun! Push me again, fucker!"
"You're insane! I love it! Come suck on my nuts, asshole!"
"This man looks like trash! You two have a good night, now!" The crumpled, hysterically laughing man shouted, in the direction of Kakeru, and Floris, the former of whom waved his free, right hand unenthusiastically.
"There are worse things that we could be doing," Kakeru remarked. "Do you drink, Floris-san? I generally don't. It's a bit of a timewaster."
"N-no," Floris lied. "I-I'm completely clean! No drinking, no illegal substances, no tobacco! Squeaky clean! Eheheheh…"
Kakeru rolled his eyes, unconvinced. Rubbing the top of Floris's hand with his thumb, which seemed to cause her to externally swoon, and sigh, happily, he spoke. "Are you sure? It was just a question. I'm not going to think less of you. Why would I? One person's life decisions are completely different from another's. Casual, social drinking his a very widely-practiced ritual. Consuming a few bottles of an alcoholic beverage doesn't make one an alcoholic, or a delinquent."
"He's really understanding. He's so smart, and philosophical, too… uh oh. He's prime game for Lessar. Why did the July Incident have to happen?! Lessar, go back to lusting after Kamijou! Stay away from my man! Wait… he's not m-my man! Not yet! Wait! HOLD IT! I swear to God I'll beat you worse than the other Kamijou did! SLUT!"
"Floris-san?" Kakeru inquired, gently. She seemed distracted. Though her long, beautiful legs continued their strides, effectively keeping her body moving at a brisk pace, she seemed distracted. Her big, sky blue eyes were staring at nothing, wide, and frenzied.
With a powerful yank, Floris stopped Kamisato Kakeru in his tracks.
"Is that the restaurant you were speaking of? We're nearly there. It's small, but, it'll do. Once we get our menus, you can just tell me what you'd like to have, and I'll order it. No issue. Don't concern yourself with paying me back. It's the least I can do. I've given you more than one unfortunate scare this day, Floris-san. Perhaps, once I've put everything into perspective for you, it'll all frighten you a bit less."
Floris listened to Kamisato Kakeru speak, patiently, hanging on his every word. His voice was deep, but not too deep. Manly, but not intimidating. It was smooth, and gentle, each word so soft in its pronunciation. Coupled with his almost musical, spoken Japanese, it was a sound that Floris could've fallen asleep to; but she was done with standing around.
She was done with blushing, and staring down at her feet. Kamisato Kakeru had taken her hand in his, and, even if she didn't know him that well, she knew she liked this feeling. Floris knew she wanted more. She didn't even know why, but, Floris knew she needed more. She absolutely needed it. Like a lioness who'd cornered her prey after a long, and exhausting hunt, Floris could practically taste him. The game became the hunter.
Then, she physically did begin to taste him. Though she screamed at herself, internally, her body didn't stop moving forward, rebelling against her higher mind's commands. Taking his right hand into her own hand – fortunately, for Floris, Kakeru had "switched" World Rejector off, some time following the "World Rejecting" of Vurthum's unfortunate frontman – Floris's lips connected with Kakeru's own. Floris couldn't have possibly known it, but, she was tasting the lips of at least a dozen other women.
Floris's lips smacked against Kakeru's, loudly, as her entire face became beet red, in coloration, her eyes watering. Kakeru silently cried victory; he'd done it again. His life really was like a galge; but that wasn't a bad thing. For Kamisato Kakeru, it was his many lovers, or no lover at all. He'd leave the boredom of monogamy to his betters – namely, the Kamijous.
Then again, they'd never seemed to be bored with one another. In fact, they were the opposite of such a sweeping generalization. They were madly in love, even after so many years of being together. That was their thing, that was how they loved; and that was fine. A boring idea, to Kamisato Kakeru, but, fine.
Kakeru exerted control over his body, and over his mind. It was beyond difficult. He wanted nothing more than to reach behind Floris, and finally grasp her posterior in his hands, squeeze it, feel the plump, firm-looking thing against his palms. Tha-thump. Tha-thump. His heart was beating, quickly, as his eyes awkwardly twitched, slightly. He could feel them moving, as if little insects were traveling beneath his face.
"K-Kamisato-chan…" Floris spoke, through her awkward kisses. Her lips continued to smack against Kakeru's, loudly. Saliva, which had built up around her tongue glopped, as it slapped against Kakeru's own. She had considerably less restraint than he did. Her hands had grasped the back of Kakeru's head, and, her fingers were running through his hair, slowly, passionately. Floris adored every second of it. "I-I'm sorry! I d-didn't mean to… I lost my self-control, and… I m-moved too fast. I-it's just, that, I-I… I've been i-in l-l… l-love with you, s-since I first m-met you. I d-don't know why. I j-just have. I-I've n-never felt like this b-before… y-you're a really good kisser… k-keep k-kissing m-me… your lips are s-so soft…"
Floris forcibly broke away. She wasn't going to look away from him. Floris reached out, and grasped at her inner strength. Indomitable, no-nonsense Floris was dragged out into the fields of battle. Her blue eyes looked into Kamisato Kakeru's own. His irises were dark, almost tree bark brown in coloration. "I c-can't believe I just did that. Oh my G-God… I'm s… so, sorry. I don't want to make this weird. I… I've always had a hard t-time controlling myself, around you. I wish I understood it b-better. I'm not usually l-like this, I swear."
"It's okay. Let's analyze this situation. Breathe, Floris-san. I can tell," Kakeru chuckled. "I can tell. I've always been able to tell. Think of it as a sixth sense. It's okay, you can let it happen. I won't hurt you, Floris-san. This is all a learning experience. Let yourself come out of that hardened shell, just for a little bit. Relax with me. Let me take you on a trip through these feelings of yours. Let me help you explore the inner machinations of your sexuality, and your desires."
"C-can we k-keep walking? I w-want to keep walking. The air is r-really nice tonight! Fresh! C-chilly, b-but fresh!" Floris exclaimed, feverishly. "I-is this a d-date? Are we on a… a date? I've never b-been on a date, before. I-I've never really been… romantic, before. N-Never gave m-myself the chance."
"No? In that case, I suppose this is a date, then. If you'd like it to be. I see no reason why it can't be."
"I would like it to be."
Kakeru rolled his shoulders, as the duo passed the restaurant by, continuing on their way. A stroll it would be, then. "In that case, let's talk. Just you and I, Floris-san. I'll begin. What happened with the young woman, earlier, in our day? The answer is a simple one. Yet, it's difficult for me to speak it."
Floris craned her head to the side, her eyes locking with Kakeru's own.
"You were correct; the force residing in my right hand is, indeed, controlled by what I like to compare to a lightswitch, at least in concept. This force, "World Rejector", can be "switched", on and off, like a lamp. I didn't forget to "switch" it off. I purposefully had it enabled, with the intention of using World Rejector to speedily deal with Vurthum's frontman.
"The young woman who happened to physically meet with World Rejector was collateral damage. It was a mistake. A true shame. I take full responsibility for the action. It will weigh on me for… some time. A long time, for whatever that might be worth to you. I apologize. I was wrong, and, my hot-headedness cost someone, potentially many people dearly.
"As for Vurthum's frontman? He was a danger to himself, and to others. Aggressive, and unhinged. The world he resides in now, whatever that world may be, is far better suited to his lifestyle, and to his mental state. It was an act of mercy. I know many things about "Ideal Worlds". A bit too much, in fact. I spent time in one, myself."
Floris's hand tightened around Kakeru's, though, she didn't know it. With an awkward gulp, she looked up to the sky. Her blush was still existent, though, it had calmed, as had she. Taking a deep breath, Floris would attempt to assemble a coherent sentence, and stutter as little as possible.
"You used your hand, your World Rejector, on yourself? Why? Is that even possible?" Floris inquired. She felt quite proud; not even a single stutter.
"Not quite," Kakeru remarked, in response, his form shuddering, unusually. He shook his head, and puffed out a breath of air. He seemed uncharacteristically shaken. Afraid, almost.
Floris wrapped her arm around Kakeru's, and looked to him, concern in her big, blue eyes. "Kamisato-chan… I mean, Kamisato-san, are you alright? What was that all about? That was quite the shake. I've never… seen you like this before."
"It's surreal," Kakeru answered, cryptically, before he began to explain himself, in greater detail. "It's something I don't like thinking about often. I didn't use World Rejector on myself. Such a thing wouldn't be possible. It was used against me. A terribly long story. Would you be surprised to know that I owe our esteemed friends, the Kamijous, more than one life?"
"Those two have a knack for involving themselves in business that doesn't concern them," Floris answered, quickly. "I'm sure you could've handled yourself, Kamisato-san. You're very capable. So strong… so handsome…"
"Actually," Kakeru began, snapping Floris out another would-be trance, "due to… complicated circumstances, involving matters of time, space, and the gaps within these concepts, "escaping" from a "new world" is nearly impossible, without outside assistance. Am I missing something, Floris-san? Is there some type of bad blood? Forgive my ignorance. I've always assumed, but, never wished to make my assumptions known. You know what they say about assuming making "an ass of you and me."
"We've had some difficulties," Floris stated, purposefully attempting to be vague. She hoped Kakeru would drop the subject. She wanted to go back to talking about him; more importantly, she wanted to talk about him, and herself.
Kakeru seemed to have caught on easily enough. With a soft exhalation of carbon dioxide, he turned the corner, passing by a tall, black-colored streetlamp, and avoiding a group of drunken, rowdy youths, one of whom appeared to be wearing the silver-colored, reflective lid of a trashcan atop his head. A young woman wore a colorful, yellow and orange bed sheet over her shoulders, with a yellow-colored lampshade on her head. Her front teeth protruded from her mouth, and, her hands were slipped into either of her makeshift "sleeves". Her eyes were squinted.
"Ching chong chow! You buy fish, yes?" The young woman exclaimed, barely able to contain her intoxicated laughter.
Kakeru sighed, and shook his head. Floris, still hand in hand, and arm in arm with the confident, self-controlled dreamboat glared daggers at the youths, who simply continued stumbling, occasionally falling to the ground, before picking themselves up and continuing on their way.
"How insulting. Not only to more than one culture, but, to the insulter themselves. They'll wake up to regret their actions, I'm certain. Foolishness spreads like wildfire, on social media. I've seen it happen firsthand. Lives can be ruined, Floris-san."
"That makes two of us," Floris explained. "A… "friend" of mine… lots of alcohol. Bukkake. Posted an entire album of pictures of herself covered in… man-paste. No shame, either." Floris awkwardly swallowed her own saliva, and tried to distract herself from the mental imagery that was rushing through her mind's eye. She was failing the task she'd set out to perform, and was paying the price. The image of Lessar, face, hair, and bosom smeared with the semen of dozens of different men, according to the description the album had been given, at least, her hands held up, the index, and middle finger of each making a cutesy 'V' sign invaded Floris's thoughts. Floris could've vomited.
"I suppose, as long as the act was one in which all parties consented, there's no harm in it," Kakeru spoke, rolling his shoulders. "Still, that is quite embarrassing, and, degrading. Such acts should be confined to the privacy of an enclosed space, or, on the front page of an adult-oriented website, where such content is expected to be found. Small children often use social media as a means of communicating with friends. No child should have to see a sight like that."
"L-let's… let's talk about something else?" Floris suggested, giggling awkwardly. "I-I have an idea! I don't think we've passed by this bar before."
Floris motioned towards the structure in question.
"Absolutely. If you'd like to change the subject, we can. Hungry? Thirsty? Just tell me what you'd like. This date, if that is what you would still like this to be, is on me."
"T-that's exactly what I want this to be. I really want to get to know you better, Kamisato-san. Y-you had me at h-hello." Floris's blush returned with a vengeance, her cheeks lightning up, like someone had sewn bright, red, Christmas bulbs into her face. Increasing her arm's grip around Kakeru's own, unintentionally causing him just a bit of discomfort, she dragged him along behind her, as she approached the bar in question.
Crammed between two other structures, the left of which was a lingerie shop, and the right of which was an "alternative fertility product vendor", according to the small, white plastic sign, with its bright red Japanese characters, and English cursive text, that sat beneath the structure's larger, flashing neon sign.
The facility that had gained Floris's attention was, indeed, a bar of some type. It wasn't a particularly large structure by any stretch of the imagination. Only about the size of the average, two story home in Academy City, it couldn't have been any wider, either. It could've only been ten meters in length, from one end to the other.
Unlike a lot of the other structures in "the Den of Debauchery", which were constructed of dark-colored, reflective metal and panes of glass, this bar in particular was constructed partially of light-colored metal, combined with wooden beams, which looked like they'd been cut from mahogany trees, given their dark coloration.
Though there were panes of glass on the front of the structure, they were much smaller than those of the structure's neighbors. Each was separated from the other by wooden beams; in total, there we eight panes of glass. Four, on the left side of the structure, four, on the other. The structure's roof was quite flat, and, large ventilation systems, as well as what looked like an external heating system to Floris sat atop the structure, periodically producing long-running, low, booming noises.
At the front of the bar's roof, no neon signs were present. Instead, the bar's advertisement sign resembled a simplistic billboard. Made up of somewhat rusty metallic beams, the billboard depicted the image of a barren, desert wasteland. The sky above the cracked, scorched earth was bright blue, without a single cloud in sight.
Cacti were visible, dotting the charred-looking, orange landscape. Some were tall, with multiple limbs protruding, while others were smaller, with pink flowers atop them, with only a single limb on either of their sides.
Mountains, dark brown in coloration, rose up from the charred earth, pointing towards the painted sky. Their tips were surrounded with vaguely smoke-like circles, which were, perhaps, supposed to represent clouds that had formed around the peaks of the mountains.
The most standout features of this miniature billboard atop the bar was a cartoonish cowboy, short in stature, with a twirled, black mustache, and a piece of wheat hanging out from his mouth, clenched between his left molars. His left eye was closed, or, possibly missing, the eyebrow above it raised, almost suggestively. In his clenched, right hand, the cowboy held a small, single-handed firearm, the front sight, and barrel of which was pointed in the direction of the viewer.
Next to the cowboy's head, there was a large, white speech bubble, with a small, white arrow, which pointed in the cowboy's direction. Floris was able to read the English text, as well as the Japanese characters beneath; the symbols beneath the Japanese characters looked almost runic, and were beyond Floris's knowing.
"Thirsty, pardner? Step on in to Winner's, and wet that there pallet of yers!"
Kakeru apparently lacked any sort of witty remarks, in regards the bar's advertising vehicle.
Floris was going to make this a topic of conversation. This evening of hers was turning out to be strange enough, anyways. A little banter about a subject that likely only peaked her interest, and hers alone wouldn't hurt.
"Seems a little silly, doesn't it? I'd go as far as to say stupid, but, it seems harmless enough. You think this is some sort of themed venue? I hope they don't make the poor employees dress up like cowboys and cowgirls. I've honestly seen worse. Have you ever been to the "bunny bar", in district four? It's so degrading."
Kakeru took a step ahead, walking up the fairly lengthy, mahogany-colored, wooden staircase, and, walking past the wooden tables, and chairs, set out across the bar's front deck, opened the front door of the bar, and held it open. He waved his hand forward, nonchalantly, causing Floris to blush. She could practically feel the heat forming in her face.
"In the months I've known you, Kamisato-chan, you've made me blush more than I ever have in my entire life… you're s-so… polite. Such a gentleman. So handsome. That face of yours is so perfect! I just want to kiss it off! I've never felt like this, before… ever… this is all so unfamiliar… it's kind of… uncomfortable. Don't use me, Kamisato-chan, please, don't t-take advantage of me…"
"Unfortunately, I have," Kakeru responded, once Floris had stepped through the bar's front door, and had taken her first strides into the structure itself. Allowing the front door to close behind him, stretching his right hand out, and catching the door, in order to prevent any sort of loud, obnoxious thuds, Kakeru returned to Floris's side, and slid his arm back around her own.
It was something of a ballsy step, and he knew it, but, Floris didn't seem to mind. She seemed to be acclimating quickly to the idea of romantic interactions. This was good; this was very good. She was a quick learner, and good at adapting to new, and unfamiliar situations. Kakeru could respect that greatly.
"A… companion once sought to work for a single day at said "bunny bar," Kakeru explained. "So that she could obtain the costume worn by employees; she succeeded."
More than one thought floated around in Floris's head. The loudest, however, was a thought composed of a single word, one lone, silent inquiry. "Companion?"
Despite the impressiveness of "the Grand Kingdom", this bar, "Winner's", or, at least, the small entranceway which lead into the lobby, a whole lot of which couldn't be seen by either the former New Light operative or the Bearer of the World Rejector, wasn't very impressive. It had a homey appearance to it, that much was certain, but, it wasn't ornate, or incredibly fancy. It was oddly simple, in a place that was anything but simple.
Its floors were constructed of individual planks of wood, each of which was colored an array of shades of brown; some light, and some dark. Small, black-colored grooves were present in the floors; just large enough to be noticed, but nowhere near large enough to cause any sort of footing mishaps.
Its walls were constructed of wooden planks, as well; at least, upon initial inspection, they seemed to be. Floris, curious, took a closer look, as she and Kakeru made their through the small entranceway. The wall's surfaces shined, beneath the dull, synthetic light beamed down by a singular, glass bulb that sat in the center of the simplistic, grey, illusion-breaking ceiling. They weren't wooden at all; rather, they were metallic, and had simply been painted to resemble the same wood beneath the duo's feet.
Before the wooden door that lead into the bar proper, there was a small, folding sign, its surface black, with chalk scribblings upon it. Its wooden legs were pressed up against the floors; apparently, the sign was moved often, as, near the sign's legs, there were noticeable, dark-colored scuffs on the floor.
"TONIGHT'S SPECIALITY: SKULLFREEZER" the sign proclaimed, the scribbled text's font large, and messy.
Kakeru took the lead, once again, and "allowed" Floris to enter the bar, by holding the door open, and, again, waving his hand forward, nonchalantly. Floris, blushing, awkwardly, did so, stepping past him, her mud-covered shoes stepping onto a somewhat messed, dark-colored carpet. Kakeru, as before, prevented the door from closing too quickly, by using his hand as a doorstopper.
The duo was greeted not by a human, but, by an enormous statue, its hand raised upwards, fingers stretched apart, in a jovial wave. It was the cowboy caricature from the bar's billboard; apparently, he'd escaped the confines of the second dimension, and had manifested in the third. The statue was surprisingly tall.
"That's disturbing."
Kamisato Kakeru reached out, his right hand extended.
Before he had the chance to make a victim of the lifeless statue, Floris grabbed him by the shoulder, and, with an irritated-sounding huff, dragged him along behind her. Her footfalls were heavy and quick, her strides purposeful.
Floris shook her head, as she passed a hallway, which lead to the bar's restrooms by. Her free, left hand was clenched into a fist.
Did he understand nothing? He'd just finished apologizing for his previous behavior, and, yet, he was at it again, at least in concept. Floris's aggressive, no-nonsense side emerged, in full force, taking Kamisato Kakeru by surprise.
"You're completely thick. Stubborn, and impulsive. Why have I got this thing for you, Kamisato-san? You can make things disappear with that hand, too, apparently, not just p-people, and here you are, waving it around all willy-nilly."
"Sorry? It's just what I do."