Quick thing: thanks, whwsms for following! Also, thanks for following and favoriting A Certain Strange Scenario!
Speaking of A Certain Strange Scenario, chapter thirty-three may be a day later than most; so, possibly, five days between chapters, rather than the usual four. I hope all of you lovely people understand. If any issues arise, feel free to use Fanfiction's PM feature to contact me, so that we can work out said issues.
Response time is upon us, fellows! Let the response to all of your awesome reviews commence.
Whwsms: time to send Kakeru out, World Rejecting all the young readers who may, or may not have had their minds corrupted; this may be for naught. Kakeru might find himself becoming part of the problem, you see.
Alright! Let the running begin, friend. I'm ready, whenever you are.
That it is. I assumed it to be a good a time as ever for such a hint to be dropped. There'll be some surprises, along the way. That's all I can say, for now. I'll leave that to sit there, for a bit, and you lovely people can speculate as you see fit.
Kamisato Kakeru and Floris are quite the pair. I do have to wonder if things will advance that quickly! Will they, or, will things slow down, as the pair interact within a more relaxed environment? Who's to say? We'll just have to find out, won't we? Anything can happen, and, as always, only time will tell.
Lessar actually has a reason behind her behavior; but, that's another revelation, for another day. Everything has a purpose, nothing happens "just" to happen. There's a reason behind all things. Lessar's apparent descent into full-on, uncontrolled lust has a reason.
With phase one of A Certain Kami-yan Mating Ritual ™ complete, we can only patiently wait for phases two and three, both of which are more than likely going to occur outside of the Grand Kingdom's walls. Hopefully, at least. There's already been enough lewd conduct between our married couple to last a lifetime.
Kumokawa Seria's eye in the sky could be seen as a misuse of her powers; but, you also have to consider the fact that the Kamijous aren't supposed to be engaging in sexually explicit acts in a theme park. Is anyone really "in the wrong"? Not really, if I do say so myself.
You're correct about that; Archive of Our Own (commonly referred to as AO3) is far less prudish, and draconian in its laws regarding "explicit" content. It's also less broken. Still, even if it has to be toned down in order to see publishing on Fanfiction, that's something I can adjust to. I've already done so, once, by bumping this piece's rating up from T, to M. The pieces I have going here, I intend to see through to their respective ends.
I'm also happy that you registered an account, friend! Feel free to, as you said, pass on any suggestions, or thoughts, as you see fit. I'll respond as soon as I can!
As always, I'm glad to know that I'm able to continually gain your approval! I hope to be able to continue to do so, with subsequent chapters!
Guest: none, unless Ayu was skulking around the Grand Kingdom with a pair of binoculars, spying on Seria's drone; which she wasn't, unfortunately, because that's a pretty entertaining mental image. That's not to say she won't find out a little bit more about the Mating Ritual of Kami-yan, of course.
321jaz: just like clockwork; but, with a little more love in it. Machines need love, too.
What is there to say? You've already put a summary down in words better than I could; lemonade, with many scoops of sugar poured into the already sugary mix, for extra measure.
A certain former Beauty-senpai is enjoying herself a little bit too much, it seems. Then again, is there such a thing as "too much" enjoyment? I think I can safely say that Seria isn't necessarily overstepping her boundaries, through her actions; rather, it seems she's trying to keep her distance, and vicariously enjoy what she can't have. A bit sad, when you think deeply enough about it, for Seria at least. A respectable decision, but a sad one.
She might just be; Kumokawa Seria knows a bit about a certain Faction, that surrounds a certain right hand user, who calls Academy City home. If she is aware, she's more than likely quite envious, at least of the concept.
That you will, friend; that you will. This chapter will feature Kakeru, and Floris, in a more relaxed environment, where they can both wind down, and open up; this could be good, or, this could be catastrophic, depending on how much our right hand user reveals, and how Floris reacts to these revelations.
As always, I'm glad to know that I'm able to continually gain your approval, friend! I hope to continue to do so!
Anon: illusions = broken. Glad I could be of assistance; if only all Ojou-Samas were so helpful! Of course, Kamijou Touma's wife is a "special breed" of Ojou-Sama, catering only to her husband's needs.
Here's to hoping poor Kuroko isn't traveling through the eleventh dimension when the Mating Ritual of Kami-yan comes to its climatic close. She might just have her face torn off, by some sort of cataclysmic, supernatural, eleventh dimension windstorm. Worse, she might get awful ideas involving orgies of sexual misconduct, and junk food.
Get away with it? I might just have to prove you wrong, there, friend. You'll have to read on to find out for certain, though; that's just the way of things, isn't it? I can't give away all the answers, after all!
As always, glad to know that I'm able to gain your approval! I hope to be able to continually do so, in subsequent chapters!
DarkBetrayer: we'll have to see how things play out, in regards to the "weird porno". If the Kamijous willingly "leak" their own sex tape, could that really count as misfortune? I don't know. I don't think so. I suppose the reactions of the tape's viewers could be… unfortunate, to say the least, depending on who, exactly views it; especially if some of Kamijou Touma's more "volatile" admirers get a hold of it.
It's a fair question; perhaps, the couple will find how exactly the Mating Ritual of Biribiri operates? Perhaps not. There're plenty of ifs, many possibilities. You could say there are infinite possibilities, even.
Sorry. I'll see myself out.
Anon Guest: I hope you enjoyed reading the lemonade-covered scene as much as I enjoyed writing it; preparations have already been made, friend! It's a matter of finding time to act on them. As always, I'm glad to know that I'm able to continually gain your approval! I hope to be able to continue to do so!
I, too, throw my hat in; whoever decides to write an OT3, or OT4 piece. It's not part of my own vision, but, I'd love to read about the fruits born of someone else's vision, whoever that someone may be; I'd welcome more than one instance of the concept of an OT3, or OT4, in fact. You can never read enough, I say. There are plenty of perspectives to peer into, through the writings of others. Plenty to learn.
I really enjoyed the omake you wrote up! I had quite the chuckle, when I completed my short reading of the piece; I'd welcome you to try something similar again! Heck, I'd welcome a contribution to the archive, as well. Always great to see aspiring writers trying out their respective hands at the craft!
You also, in a way, seem to have future sight, to some degree, at least. How much do you know?! You'll have to read on to see how things develop, friend, unless you can predict the decisions I'm going to make. In which case, I hope you enjoy regardless of spoiler-unearthing future sight abilities.
Hilem: it very much does, doesn't it? Lewdness is good, I'd say; of course, that's just me. There are those who'd disagree, and, by all means, that's fine. To each their own!
That she does. We'll see just how deep Kumokawa Seria's desire goes, in a later chapter. Seria will be making a few short, but sweet appearances, before her "official" debut; consider it a taste test of sorts.
It will really depend on Kakeru's view of Floris, I think. You're certainly right about that much; time will indeed tell, as it always has, as it always does, and, as it always will.
It happens, friend! No worries. Regardless of bugs, and/or glitches, I'm glad to know that you're finding enjoyment, both in Times Change, and in Strange Scenario. If you think a review hasn't gone through, or, if you just have something you'd like to say, feel free to contact me via PM.
Floris breathed, in and out, deeply; inhaling, for a few seconds, and then, exhaling, for a few seconds. With Kamisato Kakeru's shoulder still held tightly in her grip, he was at her mercy. She could do just about anything she wanted. She was aggravated with him, certainly, but she didn't want to harm him. That was the last thing Floris wanted to do to him.
Perhaps "love" was too strong of a word, but Floris was certainly attracted to Kakeru. Why would she want to hurt the man she was attracted to? Though her instincts told her the man, with that annoying, creepy, impossible right hand of his deserved a thrashing, the rational part of Floris's mind told her something different. It told her to forgive, and forget, despite the wrongness of the situation, and regardless of those who'd been cast away.
Bar patrons, sitting in the wooden booths the two passed by chuckled, heartily at the sight; young love at it's finest. Two patrons, in particular, seemed to be chuckling amongst themselves. It was a wonderful sight, indeed. The youngling knew his place, that was for certain; both of the older, experienced men knew all about such things.
"What was the old expression, Arnold? "Happy wife, happy life?"
"Happy wife, happy life, Robert. Happy wife, happy life. Forget that lesson, and you die."
The first of the duo, whose name was apparently "Arnold", rose up from his seat. Clad, in a dark, leather jacket, a pair of dark, dirtied jeans, and a pair of mud-covered, steel-toed work boots, he wore a pair of darkened, tinted sunglasses on his face. His hair was slicked back, dark brown in coloration. The skin, roughly stretched over his face, bore many cuts, and large, fleshy scars, the most prominent of which ran from the top of his right cheek, to the same cheek's bottom, coming to an end near the right corner of his mouth.
"Got to leak. I'll be back."
Ignoring the snide comments, Floris finally let Kakeru go; rather than allowing him to stumble to the ground, she came to a halt, and extended her left arm. Such helpfulness was appreciated, but wasn't needed. Kakeru was able to swiftly steady himself.
"Where do you want to sit? Anywhere in particular?"
Kakeru shrugged. "Wherever you want. What can I say, in my defense? I'm not used to going with the flow. Sometimes, it's nice to let other people make decisions, create the flow, rather than creating it yourself."
Floris clicked her tongue, but didn't verbally respond to the comment.
The bar the duo found themselves within, Winner's, was quite spacious, on the inside; Floris had misjudged this small-looking structure. Along the edges of the bar's walls, there were spacious sitting booths, crafted of wood, with soft-looking, light-colored cushions on the booths' seats, and, on the booths' backrests. In the center of the bar's sitting area, there were a number of circular, wooden tables; approximately twelve, by the duo's respective, internal counts.
Spaced out, with a few feet of distance between one another, most of the tables were empty, their chairs turned to the side, having not been pushed in, properly, after those that'd been sitting at them had finished whatever task they'd set out to perform. Those that weren't still faced their respective tables, but, still weren't tucked in.
Kakeru felt a twinge of annoyance, followed by the urge to fix the furniture, which he swatted away; in his mind's eye, he could see spherical, little rubbery things, almost goblin-like creatures, being herded like sheep, by a large, outstretched hand.
Like the booths, that lined the bar's walls, the seats, and backrests, of the wooden chairs surrounding each table were cushioned; like the booths' seats, and backrests, those of the chairs looked just as comfortable to sit upon.
To the left of the wooden tables, and chairs, sat the bar, itself. With tall, metallic stools sitting in a neat row before it, the surfaces of which were shined to perfection, the long, wide, wooden bar was in impeccable condition. Behind the bar, a younger-seeming man leaned over a counter. Within a sink, silver in coloration, his hands were consumed by bluish-white suds. The counter, which contained the sink was made mostly of dark-colored, treated wood, while the counter's surface was constructed of what resembled light-colored limestone.
All things considered, the younger-seeming man was quite large. Tall, and musclebound, he wore a uniform strikingly similar to those worn by both Kamisato Kakeru and Floris.
He'd seemed to have forsaken the uniform's hat, as his full head of dark-colored hair was visible. Slightly messy, it looked like the younger-seeming man hadn't combed it, in some time. It stuck up on ends. Tufts rose upwards, and were bent, downwards. On the back of the younger-seeming man's neck, Floris was able to make out a large patch of something; a dark shade of purple, in coloration, the odd-looking growth was unsightly, and even a little bit sickening, to Floris, who quickly looked away, after observing it, for some few seconds.
Above the counter, there was a small window, which lead the duo's respective visions into an industrial area; at least, it looked rather industrial, in its appearance. The wooden, homey façade of the bar was lost; beyond this window, where the walls were sterile, and milky, in coloration, there wasn't much life to be seen.
As if to "apologize" for this fact, above the window, there were a series of shelves, which housed various, empty-looking bottles, which had once contained an alcoholic beverage. Shades of green, dark orange, and gold-colored glass melded together, on the smooth-looking, wooden shelves.
"Any booth in particular?" Kakeru inquired, folding his arms across his chest, and looking about, from left, to right.
"I k-kind of want a window seat," Floris admitted. That was as far as no-nonsense Floris was going to get. No-nonsense Floris threw her hands up, screamed, within Floris's mind, and left the S.S Floris's deck abandoned; in her place, awkward, love-struck Floris took the reigns, stumbling towards the proverbial steering wheel that controlled the young woman's actions. "It's… um… you know. It's pretty…"
"Romantic?"
Kamisato Kakeru had taken the words right out of Floris's mouth. She smiled, as her cheeks glowed a bright, crimson red. "Y-yeah. Romantic. It's romantic. T-this is a date, right? Why shouldn't the setting be romantic?"
Internally, the young woman was screaming aloud, in ecstasy, already crying victory. "It's a date I said it's a date I SAID IT! Go Floris! GO FLORIS! GO FLORIS! Make him yours, Floris! I should've been trying harder from the beginning! I can FIX HIM!"
Kakeru took Floris's left hand into his right. Again, she found herself descending back into that heavenly sensation she'd found herself falling in love with, her mind's racing slowing to a restrained crawl. Was it really Kakeru, as a person, or, the sensation he brought down upon her, whenever he was near, that she was falling in love with? Was love even the right word? She wanted to kiss him again, even if she knew that such contact was inappropriate. That was Floris's only mental answer to herself. She knew the answer to that question; the answer was an overwhelming, resounding yes.
To the right, past a few other patrons, many of whom were voraciously consuming hearty-looking, wonderful-smelling meals, chugging alcoholic beverages, or engaging in both activities, the former New Light operative, and the Bearer of the World Rejector walked to the right, past an uncleaned table, and, towards a booth. Not quite in the center of the wall, the booth was almost there; three other booths were ahead of it.
The third had taken the title of "being the booth in the center", if such a title actually existed; surely, only Floris's odd internalizations could come up with such a thing, and, surely, it only mattered in that small pocket-realm of existence.
Lifting one foot away from the floor, Floris settled herself into the booth's seat. Into the soft, light-colored seat, her posterior sank. It was practically absorbed, by the seat's squishy surface. The cushion squeaked, as its surface was pushed inwards.
Kakeru was jealous of the inanimate object; if only his face could be there, instead. Truly, Floris's was a posterior to die for. He wouldn't mind suffocating beneath it. With a quick, silent, mental snap, Kamisato Kakeru was back in reality, his rapidly-expanding manhood shrinking back into flaccidness, doing as its owner commanded.
Rather than sitting across from her, Kakeru prepared himself, mentally, following his manhood's retreat, and, just as Floris had finished fidgeting around, getting herself comfortably seated, with a contented sigh, Kakeru climbed in, after her.
Floris's eyes widened, at the sight of him, taking it upon himself to sit next to her. She didn't mind; she really didn't. He smelled good. Did he use cologne? He smelled like he used some sort of cologne. The scent was natural; Floris compared the scent to that of the air, on a cool, breezy fall day.
"K-Kamisato-san?"
Within a moment, Kakeru's right arm was around the young woman's shoulder. It was so absolutely warm, and so firm; it felt so absolutely powerful. Floris loved the sensation. As a result, her cheeks began to glow a bright shade of pink, while she fidgeted, awkwardly. Floris looked to her left, and then to her right, eyes shifting either way inside of her head. She swallowed hard, as she crossed her arms, and placed them on the table's surface.
Kakeru kept his body's distance from Floris's own, despite his arm being around her shoulder. "You're not uncomfortable, are you? I thought I'd try to get a bit closer. Like you said, this is a date. If you're not enjoying yourself, please, don't hesitate to let me know, and I'll relent. No trouble at all. Just say the word, Floris-san."
"No," Floris quickly spat, giggling, awkwardly, as Kakeru watched on. "I'm n-not uncomfortable. I l-like this a l-lot. This is what I've always wanted, from you. I-it's just kind of hard to believe that it's h-happening. Am I dreaming? Maybe I'm dreaming. Should I just pinch myself? Maybe I d-don't want to wake up, just yet, after all…"
"As far as I know, I'm awake," Kakeru stated, calmly. Floris's eyes locked with Kakeru's own; he didn't seem to be making fun of her. There weren't any hints of sarcasm, that Floris could detect, in the young man's voice. His facial expression was one of neutrality. "I don't think you have anything to worry about, in that regard. I'm fairly certain this is real. Now; let's talk business."
"Business?" Floris inquired.
The moment was interrupted, the young people involved jarred violently from their trance. Next to the bar, there came a shout of frustration; the duo turned their respective attentions to the source of the sound. There'd been something, a machine, in fact, that the duo had missed, on their way towards the booth they'd sat themselves in.
A few feet away from the bar, and the young, dishwashing man, was a larger fellow. Seated on a stool, identical to those that were situated in front of the bar, he yanked, up and down, on a long handle, of some sort.
Tipped with a small, red orb, the handle alone allowed Kakeru to realize what was happening; he immediately recognized the machine, that the chubby man was fiddling with. It was a one-armed bandit. The chubby man was losing in his tug of war with the machine, evidently, judging by the man's loud, frustrated grunts, which followed a second shout, just as full of frustration as the previous.
"I don't really mean business," Kakeru remarked, with a chuckle. "I mean talking. Let's just talk. Tell me about yourself, Floris-san.
"From what I've gathered, through our woefully short, previous conversations, you were part of a group known as "New Light"? Maybe, you could tell me more about that; or, you don't have to. Color me curious. I've heard New Light was involved with a lot of the turmoil in Britain, through the grapevine. Not judging you personally; I'm sure you did what you had to do, at the time. Two thousand and four was quite the time to be alive."
Floris had been put on the spot. As her mind quickly began to run through its options, an usual shiver ran down her spine, causing her body to shake, slightly. Her arms vibrated against the smooth, light-colored table's surface; she could both hear, and feel the bones beneath her skin clattering against the wooden surface, repeatedly, over and over again.
Rather than letting this be a source of discomfort, however, Floris's lips curled into a small, sly grin. She'd take control of the situation, and make herself the master of her own fate.
"Kamisato-san, can I cuddle closer? I'm chilly. Should've worn a coat, or something. The temperature really, really dropped."
The young woman's grin only widened, and the color in her cheeks only grew deeper, as Kakeru pulled her close. Silently crying victory once again, Floris removed her arms from the table, and, in a daring move, wrapped them around Kamisato Kakeru's waist. The feeling was beyond words; Floris's internal, higher mind scrambled for a descriptor; it could find none. There weren't words that could describe the feeling of having her arms around this man's waist. Perhaps, it was simply beyond words; perhaps Floris didn't need words at all.
For a moment, the young woman broke. For a split second, some sense of rationality – she saw her current actions as being irrational, and, a bit ditzy – was pumped into her higher mind, by her desperate, flailing subconscious, which felt she was moving far too fast for her own good. Floris didn't want to squander this.
"I-I hope I'm not m-moving too fast. Am I m-moving too fast? Do you know how l-long I've wanted to d-do this? I-it sounds pathetic, b-but, I dreamed about c-cuddling with you, once. You were just as w-warm then, in my d-dream, as you are, n-now, in real l-life. You're really warm. This time, w-we're alone, t-though."
"You're fine," Kakeru stated, gently. "This is what people do, Floris-san. This is normal. Not everything has to be so monotonous, with a visible pattern. Not every person who holds feelings for another person has to go through "the stages" we're often shown in popular culture. It's not necessary. Let yourself relax, breath; you're fine. You're perfectly safe. Very little you could say or do would offend me.
"We've known one another long enough, and, you've certainly come a long way, in a short period of time. It's been obvious to see that you've struggled with your own feelings. It's time to stop. Let's talk about how you feel. I don't want to see you struggle, anymore, Floris-san.
"I don't know what it is, about you, all of a sudden, Floris-san. When you became visibly frustrated, at my frivolous use of my power, my "World Rejector", I felt quite bad, in fact; something I don't normally feel, when targeting those who would oppose, or otherwise harm me.
"I'll be honest, with you. I'll hold nothing back; when we first met, through the Supreme Superintendent, a very… attractive woman herself, I thought you to be eye candy. Something I could periodically gaze upon, to sate my own desires. Seeing you become frustrated, with me, personally… it made you seem much more like a person I could connect with, and befriend. That sounds awful, doesn't it? It was difficult to connect, before. I suppose my perception was warped. You really are beautiful, Floris-san."
At his compliment, Floris began to tear up. Her eyebrows arched, and, with a push of inner determination, she willed the sogginess in her eyes away. "A lot of guys think like that," Floris explained, softly. "It doesn't make you a b-bad person. It just means you're a guy. It's okay. Y-you know, the human body... becomes attracted to another person before the m-mind does."
Floris had grown to become quite comfortable, quite quickly. Rubbing the side of her face against Kakeru's upper chest, she sighed, repeatedly, in pleasure.
"You're really warm. I've wanted this for s-sooooooo long. When I first looked at you, I thought you were so… so, so, handsome. I still do. I-I've never f-felt like this before. N-no other boy, or man, has e-ever encapsulated me, l-like this. I like the feeling, the funny little tingles, but, I feel really… v-vulnerable, too. I-I'm not used to that, either. I'm not used to vulnerability. It's the one thing I d-don't like about this. It's why I've never tried anything like this b-before."
Kakeru instinctually tightened his arm's grip around Floris's shoulder. "Though I don't know whether or not it will actually do any good, you don't need to worry. I won't hurt you. I'd have no reason to. What would I gain, from hurting you? If I'd wanted to hurt you, I could've taken advantage of you a long time ago. That's not what I do. I don't hurt women, unless they're trying to hurt me; such is self-defense, and not an issue of gender. I especially don't hurt the women who…"
The young man started. He'd only just caught himself; he, too, seemed to be becoming a bit too comfortable, with Floris cuddled up to him, rubbing herself all over him. How would she react to that revelation, in particular? Would she just up, and leave, completely confused, flustered, or both? Such a thing would be regrettable, indeed.
Floris looked up at the young man she'd cuddled herself up to. Without letting go of him, she locked eyes with him. "Who what, Kamisato-san?"
The Bearer of the World Rejector felt an unusual pang, within the right side of his chest, and, lower, downwards, near his gut. Looking into Floris's big, blue eyes, Kakeru swallowed, hard. What was with her? What was with him? He hadn't felt this way for someone outside of his "social circle" in a long time.
Suddenly, as if Pandora's proverbial box had been opened, its contents poured all over him; he felt like some connection between him, and this young woman, who quite obviously had feelings for him, had been forged. Were there feelings for her, in return, within him? Kakeru didn't quite know.
"I suppose I did say that I was going to be honest with you, nothing held back; and so, I will. Floris-san, I must admit that I am the centerpiece of a small harem."
Floris's eyes widened; if it was physically possible, her eyelids would've been torn completely from her face. Floris didn't let go, but, she nearly instantaneously slowed her face's rubbing, against Kakeru's chest, before it ceased to be, completely. Floris's lips parted, as she muttered a confused-sounding "Ooohhh…"
There were a number of decisions Floris could've made, a number of paths she could've taken, each with its own outcome. She could've lost control, and immediately demanded to know why Kamisato Kakeru had involved himself in such an odd, and quite taboo practice. She could break down, and let herself loose a few tears, just enough to allow her to regain her composure. Finally, Floris could look at the situation rationally, with an understanding, open mind. She could try to be a decent human being.
"S-so, I guess that explains all the girls I see you with, sometimes," Floris remarked, after a short period of silence. "I guess there's n-nothing wrong with it, as long as everyone involved is consenting."
"How am I going to make this happen, now?! Am I going to join a harem?! No, no, no. There's some other way! There has to be… but if there isn't? What then? Maybe we could just be friends. Ugh, no! Might as well just drag a dead dog around, then! There's… I'll figure something out."
"You're free to let go, whenever you wish," Kakeru spoke. "I won't take offense, I promise; as I stated, some minutes, there's very little you could do that would offend me."
Floris, despite herself, shook her head, from side to side, no. She didn't let go. "Not unless you want me to. You have a different lifestyle than some other people, and that's okay. It's not like you're doing anything wrong. Everyone involved is of consenting age, in Academy City, right? Everyone's, you know, human? I really don't know where I'm going w-with this.
"Let's t-try something else, Kamisato-san? I think I have a few questions about this, um… harem. I've never really seen one, before. I mean, I've seen the documentaries, and such, my, uh, "friend", Lessar's kind of obsessed with them. I've never seen one in person; well, I guess I have, because I saw you with your g… g-girlfriends? Is that the right word? What's it like, especially for you? Harems are usually multiple women co-existing with one man, right?"
Kakeru leaned back. He signalled a waiter, by waving in the waiter's direction with his right hand. The gruff-looking, muscular man nodded back. Clad in a white, stain-covered apron, with a dark-colored uniform similar to those worn by Kakeru and Flori. He looked downwards, towards the pile of dirtied, white plates, in his hands, which were dangerously close to being brushed by his long, curly beard. Kakeru smirked, knowingly, and nodded back; their silent communication came to a close, when the gruff, musclebound man took his temporary leave.
"Ask away," Kakeru spoke, upon turning back to Floris. "Harems usually are, predominately, multiple women to a single partner of the opposite sex, though, there have been instances of "inversions", however rare. Multiple men to a singular woman. They're still noteworthy; and quite sloppy, I'd imagine, unless protection is frequently used."
Floris turned away, and stuck out her tongue, shutting her eyes, tightly. "Ugh, that's gross. Bad image in my head. Oh, that's awful. That's disgusting. Not the concept; I've seen some nasty things. I'm not letting you meet Lessar. You can thank me later. She's actually the worst. She's so disgusting, ugh."
"Didn't mean to gross you out, Floris-san. I thought the joke would be topical," Kakeru remarked, with a short, quiet chuckle. "I assume we'll be taking your meal to go."
"You bet," Floris replied, awkwardly rubbing her stomach, with the palms of her hands. "Let's change the subject. How do, you, uh, you know, live? Is there any jealousy, or qualms about who's going to spend time with you? I can imagine that it could get pretty chaotic, at times."
"Nope."
Floris temporarily forgot about the uneasiness, brought on by the mental image of Lessar's "private cavity" being filled to the brim, more than once, with the collective splooge of dozens of men. The worst part had been the ecstatic look on Lessar's face, her eyes rolled back into her head, her mouth wide open, ready to catch gallons of thick, milky seed with her outstretched tongue. Floris's subconscious was more than happy to stuff that image into a dirty corner of her higher mind's memory, to rot with the skeletons, and the cobwebs.
"Nope"? Floris inquired, curiosity in her tone of voice. "There's no… squabbling? No "get away, he's mine"? Nothing like that?"
"Nope. Unless… Sir Marco Jigsworth… escapes from his pen – pet iguana, you see – things are usually pretty calm. Everyone gets along well enough. Sometimes, I think they love each other, more than they love me. Not that it matters; I'm glad, I'm glad that they're happy. That's all I want for them. I love them. There was a time, Floris-san, when I took them for granted, and treated them as I treated you, before this funny little night, of ours. An unfortunate relapse; I intend to try and make up for my wrongs."
"Kamisato-san," Floris remarked, "you didn't even do anything all that bad. Ooh, so you're attracted to my body. Okay? Big whoopee doo. You objectified me, inside your heart… I mean head. Why'd I say heart? Eheheh… forget it. It's not a big deal! Honest. There are worse things you could've done.
"There are people, mostly guys, who do worse things than that, like taking advantage of intoxicated girls at parties. Now, THAT'S something to feel bad about doing. Checking someone out? Not bad. Objectifying someone, a little bit, because it turns you on, or, whatever? As long as you're not being outright chauvinistic, not bad. You can think about whatever you want. As long as fantasies stay fantasies, it's not bad. I can tell you all about fantasies."
Kakeru chuckled, as he leaned forward. Detaching herself from him, Floris did the same. Kakeru rested his arms on the booth's table's surface, his eyes' vision focused on the empty, opposite booth, as Floris had, before him. Around the young man's left arm, Floris's arms found themselves becoming wrapped.
"Still not too quick, Kamisato-san?"
"You're fine, Floris-san. You're fine. Thanks, by the way. Now I can stare at you with no regrets."
The former New Light operative raised an eyebrow, her cheeks glowing bright pink, once again; likely not for the last time. Her reaction brought a hearty, deep chuckle out of Kakeru.
"You know? You're great, Floris-san. I don't even really know you all that well, and yet, I feel like, in this short exchange of ours, I've known you all my life. I feel like you're a close personal friend I can trust, despite the fact that we've only had awkward interactions, in the recent past. There's something strong, about you, Floris-san, something dependable, and understanding. Rational. Were you New Light's leader? Did New Light have a leader, or a caste system, of that sort?"
"Nope," Floris responded, with a giggle; she'd mimicked Kakeru's peculiar way of speaking the word. Deep, but humorous, the cute little effect his mouth, and tongue produced, stressing the "o" in the word was absolutely irresistible, to Floris. "That was Bayloupe, another friend of mine; an actual friend, and not just a weird, creepy, sex-addicted tagalong. You don't want to get on her bad side. I m-mean, y-you could probably t…t-take her on, no problem, Kamisato-san! Eheheh."
Before Kakeru could pose a question, in regards to Floris's explanation, the gruff, bearded man had arrived at their booth, lacking any sort of plates, or other baggage. In his right hand, he gripped a small, almost completely used up pencil. Light brown, in coloration, the utensil's pink-colored eraser was almost nonexistent. The metallic eraser holder was partially rusted over. In his left, the large, gruff man held a pad of paper, as well as two crumpled-looking menus. Like the pencil's metallic eraser holder, the metallic rings of the pad were partially rusted. He tossed the menus onto the booth's table, and grunted.
"Eyes up 'ere, lovebirds. Your date can wait. Need somethin'?"
Floris giggled, quietly; on this night, she'd giggled more than she'd ever giggled in her life. She hadn't been a big giggler. Somehow, something about Kamisato Kakeru brought out a soft, simple part of Floris. She imagined the scene she'd seen, drawn in the pages of so many manga, and brought to life in so many episodes of so many different anime. She couldn't imagine trying to utter the phrase, "W-WE'RE NOT ON A D-DATE!"
"Need something to wet the old whistle," Kakeru remarked. "Got Moose Knight?"
"Canadian stuff, huh?" The gruff-bearded fellow inquired, rhetorically; at the mentioning of the name, the large man seemed to soften up. "Syrup-drinkers are good for something, at least. Make damn good beer. Yeah. We got Moose Knight. In a bottle, or, you want a glass?"
Kakeru shrugged. "A glass, please."
After scribbling something down, on his pad, the large, bearded man looked to Floris, who looked back at him. He certainly was a sight to behold; the man almost seemed to be more beast, than human being. His eyes looked tired; beneath his eyes' lower eyelids, there were large, purple bags.
"Somethin' for you?"
Floris nodded, and offered the large, gruff fellow the warmest smile she could muster. "I think I'd like to try the Skullfreezer, please."
"Called "Skullfreezer" for a reason. Ain't responsible for your headache. Or your busted-up teeth. Trust me. It's hard-hittin' stuff."
Again, the gruff man-beast scribbled something down, onto his pad. "Holler when you find somethin', on the menu. Be glad Russ ain't on kitchen duty. Boy's got a screw loose. More than one."
Turning his back to the duo, the gruff, hulking, bearded man-beast took his leave. Beneath him, the floor of the bar, Winner's, practically shook; Kakeru certainly felt the table bounce, once or twice. Apparently, the gruff man was literally shaking the floor, with his steps. Floris seemed to have noticed something peculiar, as well; she looked about, from left to right, and then, downwards, towards her feet, and the floor beneath them.
"Russ! Quit cleanin', you obsessive fucktart. Need a Moose Knight and another Skullfreezer!" The man-beast exclaimed.
The younger-seeming man, who'd apparently still been cleaning the dished turned his back to his duties. Kakeru stared, intently. There seemed to be some animosity, between the gruff man-beast, and the dishwasher, whose name was apparently "Russ."
"Bite me," Russ snapped, in reply. "What's stopping you? We're not that busy."
The large, bearded man-beast's reply came. Floris's attention had gravitated towards the unfolding scene. The hulking mountain man shoved a chair out of his way, knocking it to the ground, with a thrust of his arm; his left hand had crashed against the piece of furniture, like a speeding car mowing down an unfortunate, inattentive pedestrian.
The floor creaked beneath the man-beast's weight. Floris quickly noted that others, too, were watching the scene unfold. Some had put down their forks, others had raised their drinks, and began to add fuel to the crackling fire of the confrontation. "Nothin's stoppin' me; I'm just not doin' it, when you're here. You can't cook worth shit. So, make yourself useful."
Russ pulled a translucent, plastic glove away from either of his hands. Tossing them onto the counter, next to the sink, he leapt over the bar, his back sliding across its gleaming, wooden surface. Legs extending outwards, the younger-seeming man caught himself, as his form slid from one side of the bar's surface, to the other.
"You've been looking for something all day. You want to pick a fucking fight with me? You'll regret it. Knocked out bigger than you with a busted arm and a bum leg. Try me, and I'll lay you the fuck out."
"Boy, I don't fight. I kill. Watch your mouth."
The younger-seeming man, Russ, rolled his shoulders, quite nonchalantly, for a man who'd just been threatened. His facial expression was stern, his dark-colored eyebrows arched. His lower face, covered in light stubble, was less wrinkled-looking than his upper face, including his nose, the bridge of which had scrunched.
"Oh, please, don't hurt me. I'm terrified. If you're a killer, what're you doing working at a shitty bar, in a shitty amusement park, eh? Why aren't you out killing people? Need a little downtime, Wallace? You're not a killer. I know a killer when I see one; you don't have the look in your eye. You don't have the killer look. You have the "I'm a massive cuck" look."
The younger-seeming man, Russ, closed the distance between himself, and the man-beast. No one within the bar, save the man-beast himself, heard Russ's whispered words.
"Have you ever found yourself in a situation in which you've shot a man? A man with a family? A wife? Children? Probably not. You're not haunted, Wallace. Shoot a motherfucker, right in the center of his head, just one shot, right… here…"
Russ poked the center of the man-beast's forehead with his left hand's outstretched index finger.
"… and then, tell me how glorious it is to be "a killer". It'll feel good, at first. Exhilarating, even, but the remorse will come. When it does, you and a generic sleep aid will become very well-acquainted. Don't give me your fuckin' shit about being "a killer".
The man-beast simply stared back at the younger-seeming man who spoke to him.
"Enough! Both of yas; or you're outta here! Last! Warning!"
The loud, distinctly male vocalization originated from the window, leading into the sterile, industrial room, behind the bar. Neither Kamisato Kakeru, nor Floris were aware of who the speaker was; but they clearly held some level of influence, in Winner's. His deep, almost monstrous voice may have had some role to play, in this fact.
The large, gruff man-beast, apparently named "Wallace", immediately backed down, and walked away, abandoning the scene. He walked past the bar, and, past Russ, who Wallace knocked out of the way with a slam of his shoulder. The younger-seeming man, Russ, spat on the ground, running his dark-colored, nonslip shoe over the wad of saliva, before he leapt back over the bar's wooden surface; had it been "for good measure"? Neither the Bearer of the World Rejector, nor the former New Light operative knew. The two simply looked to one another, and attempted to move on, from the scene of open aggression.
"Well. That was interesting. Never a dull moment," Kakeru remarked, leaning back, against the booth's seat's cushioned backrest. "If you're feeling up to it, Floris-san, we can look through the menu. Might be something worth nibbling on."
Floris looked towards Kakeru, and smiled, warmly. "S-sure, Kamisato-san. I'd love to. Let's talk more. About anything. You're… eheheh… I hope this doesn't make things awkward. You're as interesting as you are h-handsome. You're really handsome. I'm really attracted to you. I really hope I'm not making things awkward. Whenever you need to, just tell me to shut up. I don't want to annoy you."
"Not in the slightest," Kakeru spoke, softly, and reassuringly. "I wouldn't tell you to shut up. Why would I? You have as much of a right to speech as I do. I appreciate the compliment. You, too, are both interesting, and stunning. I'd like to learn more about New Light, for one topic, in particular. I find myself intrigued; you were quite the influential group. Were there only three of you, then? I recall there being a fourth member, though, rumors and facts are often thrown around as equals, in grapevine conversations."
"There was a fourth member of New Light; Lancis. Like Bayloupe, a good friend. Not like Bayloupe, because she didn't, and still doesn't smack Lessar around, unfortunately. More people need to smack Lessar around. Actually, she'd probably like it. I know she likes it when Bayloupe does it. Ugh, she's unbearable."
"I've only heard tales of this "Lessar"; I've never met her for myself. By the sounds of her, perhaps that's a meeting I should postpone for another day," Kakeru mused, aloud.
"You d-don't want to meet Lessar! Ever!" Floris exclaimed, her voice raised, becoming slightly louder than she'd intended. The force behind the vocalization startled the young woman, who sank downwards, embarrassed.
"Y-you d-don't want to meet Lessar. She'd corrupt you, without you even knowing it. She's sick, Kamisato-san. Something wrong, up there. She's so… obsessed, completely obsessed with… sex. It's all she thinks about. Just sex. It's not even normal. It's all she rambles on about, well… pretty much ever. It's gotten to the point that we can't even have a normal conversation. I'll be trying to talk about, I'unno, the weather, or something, and she'll suddenly blurt out something like "Floris, have you ever been fucked in the ass?" It's so uncomfortable, ugh. You're such a breath of fresh air, Kamisato-san."
Kakeru rolled his shoulders, as he adjusted his position, in their booth's seat. Shifting his body, from left to right, he inhaled, before he spoke. "I've read the old articles, Floris-san; nymphomania. Most don't think such a disorder exists. I'm inclined to believe those who've dedicated their lives to studying the subject of the human mind, though, I do believe that there are those who engage in sexually explicit behavior in order to cope with some underlying disorder, not necessarily sex-related in and of itself."
"So you think Lessar's crazy?" Floris inquired. Raising her right hand's index finger to her lower lip, she produced a soft, curious-sounding "hmm". "You could be onto something; or maybe Lessar's just a slut. Strong words, I know, but, what else can I call someone who has terminated more than one unplanned pregnancy?"
Kakeru didn't quite know how to respond, at first; what was there to even say?
"That's… troubling," Kakeru eventually managed to remark, rather reluctantly. "I, for one, never want a child, or children; but, surely, Lessar-san could've engaged in safe sexual conduct, through the use of protection; if such protection had failed to function correctly, there are many infertile couples who would give anything in the world for a child, or children of their own. Adoption is always a viable route. Of course, this opens up a completely different can of worms entirely. Quite the touchy subject."
"It is," Floris spoke in agreement, closing her eyes, and nodding her head a single time to physically acknowledge her support of Kakeru's response.
For a while, the duo sat in comfortable silence. Kakeru eventually wrapped his right arm around Floris's shoulders, once again, and, with her permission, pulled her close; "the cold" had apparently been getting to him, too. Floris rested her hands in her lap, and enjoyed the attention she'd been craving for almost a year. More than once, the young woman pinched the skin of her own hands; she didn't snap awake, or even drift back into any sort of consciousness. She certainly did feel a degree of pain, as a result of her self-pinching.
Somehow, the strange day that began with frustration after frustration, was evolving into an evening to remember, forever. Everything just seemed to be going right.
The duo's respective drinks were delivered, approximately ten minutes after they'd ordered them. Kakeru's self-defense instincts had initially kicked in, when his vision laid upon the hulking, approaching form of Wallace, the bearded man-beast who'd nearly gotten into a brawl with the younger-seeming man named Russ.
"Sorry you had to see that. Russ is a little shithead. No respect for 'is elders, or anybody. Boy's got a bad attitude, and a chip on his shoulder, for some reason. Anyways. Enjoy."
Together, Kamisato Kakeru and Floris both remarked, "thank you". Looking down at her drink, which, like Kakeru's had been served in a tall, pitcher-like glass, was light blue in coloration. Small, nail-sized pellets of ice dotted the drink's surface. Translucent trails of mist-like smoke emerged from the drink's surface, as well.
Floris moved to pick the glass up, by its thick, translucent handle; upon touching the surface of her drink's glass, Floris reeled back, viciously tearing her right arm, and its hand away. Shivering, Floris shook the extremity, and looked to Kakeru, seemingly embarrassed; her cheeks lit up, colored a shade of dull, just barely noticeable pink. She looked down to her lap.
"T-that's really, really cold. Wow. You should touch it, too. I… eheheh. I kind of want to see your reaction."
With a chuckle, Kakeru reached out, towards the glass, his right hand's fingers spread a few inches apart, his thumb sitting comfortably, in a naturally-curved position. Unlike Floris, who'd failed, Kakeru managed to wrap his fingers around the glass's handle; for a few seconds, at least, before he, too, pulled his arm away, and wiggled his fingers about, cursing under his breath.
"That is cold," Kakeru relented. "Way too cold. Any pyrokinesists on the premises? I'll need to warm myself up, now."
Prying the cap away from his bottle of Moose Knight, he set the metallic thing aside, and pressed the lid of the bottle to his lips; Floris wanted her own lips to be there, instead. If they were on a date, couldn't they kiss, again? There wasn't anything wrong with kissing, when you were on a date with someone. Testing the waters couldn't hurt.
Kakeru set the bottle, containing the warm, vaguely honey-scented alcoholic beverage down, on the booth's table; this didn't last. As if compelled, Kakeru raised the bottle back to his lips, and took another swig. The aggressive-looking, anthropomorphic moose, wielding an oddly dull-looking medieval broadsword, a silver kite shield, and clad in a suit of silver-colored armor almost seemed to have physically shaken, upon impact.
The caricature's head was large, its antlers even larger; part of the antlers hung downwards, lazily, towards the moose's brow line. The mascot's nostrils which were drawn on as two completely black specks, atop the mascot's round, balloon-shaped nose. The mascot's aggressive eyes stared Floris down, as if to challenge her. From the moose's nostrils, puffs of smoke billowed outwards.
Standing amidst some great battle, flanked by ramparts of cobble, light grey in coloration, on either side, prone silhouettes could be seen, around the aggressive-looking mascot, tossed about the scene's ground like ragdolls. The sky above the mascot was dark, and, in the distance, great, grey thunderclouds loomed, which were partially responsible for the darkened sky.
Atop the scene, depicted on the glass bottle's surface, a large flag was visible; the flag consisted of two squares, bright red in coloration, with a white square between them. In the center of the white square, the image of a leaf was present; bright red, in coloration, like the squares that sat on either side of the white square, the leaf was pronounced, by the plain, empty whiteness behind it.
Beneath the scene, strategically placed beneath the cracked, charred earth the mascot's large, brown hooves stood upon, was the text, made up of English characters, "MOOSE KNIGHT LAGER". Crimson-colored, the text was designed to look like it was perpetually dripping, downwards, like a message scrawled in blood.
"Thirty," Kakeru finally remarked, after chugging nearly half the contents of the glass bottle. "Very, very thirsty, I mean. Thirsty, not thirty. Probably should've just ordered ice water. Lightweight, you see."
"Then there are two lightweights, sitting at this booth," Floris responded, with a short, but warm giggle. "I don't know how I'm going to finish this whole glass. It's… bigger, than I expected." Emphasising her point, Floris parted her hands; placing her left at the glass's bottom, she raised her right to the glass's top, and tilted her head to the side; there was easily fifteen inches worth of alcohol within the glass.
For a short time, Kamisato Kakeru seemed to quietly ponder something. Patiently, Floris awaited his response; he didn't necessarily have to give one, but, nonetheless, the young woman looked forward to it.
"I'll drink slowly," Kakeru finally spoke. "I'll just have this one to drink. If you're intoxicated, I can drive you home, if you'd like."
Without another word between them, Floris scooted herself as close as she could to Kakeru, and, moving in, wearing a determined facial expression, locked her lips with Kakeru's own. Enough had been just about enough. Floris had been pushed to the end of her rope; handsome, intelligent, and kind-hearted? This was no man; this was a god among men. The palms of her hands reached upwards, towards Kakeru's face, and, slowly, Floris's eyes closed. Panting, slightly, Floris's tongue broke through Kakeru's lips, and began to slap against his own tongue.
Kamisato Kakeru couldn't say he minded the affection; it was sudden, that was for certain, but, it made enough sense to him. She'd been holding a lot in, for a fair amount of time. In the heat of the moment, Kakeru took quite the risk. His hands began to slip downwards, towards Floris's hips. He opened his eyes, slightly, just barely splitting his eyelids apart, in order to get a decent look at her facial expression.
Floris's cheeks, unsurprisingly, were bright pink in coloration, as was her nose. She didn't seem to be trying to stop him, however; with their lips smacking together, quietly enough to avoid drawing attention to themselves, his hands fell all the way, landing on either of the young woman's hips.
Floris was on the verge of passing out. If, at all, during this evening's adventure, she'd felt vulnerable, she was at her most vulnerable in the moment she found herself in. He, Kamisato Kakeru, was touching her. Not accidentally running his fingers over hers, or bumping shoulders with her in a cramped hallway; he was touching her body, sensually, with actual intent.
The sensation was foreign to Floris, but it felt pleasant; that much was certain. Kakeru clearly knew how to handle a woman's body. That must've been the result of some level of experience, built up by his harem in action. Was he technically "cheating" in this regard? Floris didn't know. She could hardly hear herself think. His hands' respective grips were soft, but just forceful enough to drive Floris's higher mind to the edges of her own sanity, and her own restraint.
Floris pulled herself away, suddenly; though pleasant, the sensation was a strange, and unfamiliar one. Her heart was nearly beating out of her chest, so quickly was it slamming into her, again, and again. Panting, slightly, Floris smiled, in Kakeru's direction.
"I…I-I really hope this doesn't make things weird, between us. I'm sorry, if I'm coming on too strong. It's p-pretty hard for me to hold back. I don't know what it is with you, but, you make me want you so badly! Uh, if I'm making you uncomfortable, just tell me back to back off, Kamisato-san. I won't be offended. Maybe I should've tried to restrain myself, a bit more. I'm sorry."
Kakeru shook his head, no, and raised his glass to his lips. Taking another short, small sip of his alcoholic beverage, he placed the bottle back down, and produced a soft sigh. "It's fine. There's very little need to hold back; all you're doing, after all, is putting your lips against my own.
"You know, we're the only species that engages in such behavior. Is there anything you're concerned about? You seem perturbed, Floris-san. Is it the possibility of disease, perhaps? A very real concern. Though, admittedly, my word alone might not be enough to cull your worries, I'm quite certain that I don't have any, nor do my partners. Do you think I'm being unfaithful? Is that it, Floris-san? No. Faithfulness in a polygamous relationship works a bit differently, when compared to how it does in a monogamous one. The matter of faithfulness is a bit more complicated."
"Have you been reading my mind, Kamisato-san?" Floris inquired, quietly, as she inched herself away from him, slightly. "Don't want to get in your personal space. I think I've already done that enough times. I guess I just don't know how to really handle myself. I've held all of this back for so long, Kamisato-san, I think, now that I have the chance, it's all coming out, and I can't seem to stop it."
Kakeru's attention was focused on the young woman who'd, somehow, through a series of peculiar circumstances, become his evening's date; he wasn't even dressed properly, not that his unexpected date seemed to care.
She wasn't dressed up. Her hair, though soft-looking, feathery, and beautiful, hadn't been styled for hours on end. She wore no dress; her work uniform was enough to cling tightly to her curvy form, and accent her stunning body. Whether or not she was aware of this fact was a matter unknown to Kakeru.
Floris paused, for a few moments, before she turned her own attention to the window, adjacent to their booth's seats, and rested the side of her face against the palm of her hand, which she propped up with her elbow. Pushed against the surface of the booth's table, Floris felt her elbow, the bone beneath the skin that was stretched over it, grinding against the smooth, but hard wood. It hurt, a bit, but not enough to drive her to move the extremity. The sensation was more of a dull, nagging pain, than anything unbearable.
"I'm really enjoying myself, this evening, more than I've enjoyed myself… ever, really. I've never had much of a "life". I've done things, with New Light, and such, I go, you know, clubbing – just dancing, nothing, uh, you know. Nasty, when the chance presents itself, and, I've worked with a lot with Necessarius, recently… well, you know that much. It's how we met, after all; but I've never really involved myself with anyone, in t-this way. I don't know what to do, okay? I don't know anything about this. I'm desperate, and I'm leaking desire all over the place – proverbially! Not literally!"
Kakeru clasped his hands, and rested them, against the table's surface. He, took, turned his head to the direction of the window, adjacent to their booth.
"Look at me, Kamisato-san; I'm a mess. I guess I'll just say it. I want to spend more time with you, and, before you told me you were in a multi-partner relationship, I really, really wanted to… s-see you again sometime. L-like this. On a d-date. I wanted to go out with you. Eheh. Isn't there supposed to be a sakura tree, or something, here? I read too much manga… sorry. Bad joke. I guess I still do want to g-go out with you; but I don't want to t-take you away from your partners, or cause any kind of chaos. I'm really conflicted, Kamisato-san, and now I feel like I'm dumping all of this on you. I'm sure this isn't what you intended, and, honestly, it's not what I intended, either."
Kakeru took another swig of his drink. Raising it to his lips, he banished the feeling of dryness in his mouth, as cool, thick liquid splashed against his hard palette, and then swam across his soft palette, before it fled down his throat. Kakeru set the glass bottle back onto the booth's table's surface, and tilted his neck, from side to side, causing it to produce soft cracking noises.
"My lovers are aware that I'm sexually active, with others," Kakeru spoke, nonchalantly, causing Floris to raise an eyebrow. "The use of protection is imperative, when engaging "outsiders" – their word, not mine – in sexually explicit conduct. Flesh doesn't meet flesh. Protection is a barrier between myself, and "outsiders", both literally, and figuratively. My bare flesh, and my seed, is for those I call my lovers, and for them alone."
Floris's reflection, visible in the window, due to the dull, but noticeably effective synthetic light provided by Winner's ceiling nodded its head. "That makes enough sense. I'm not going to sit here and judge your lifestyle. Why would I? Would I even have the right to do that? No, not really. Like I said, as long as everyone involved is of legal age, and, everyone's consenting, and are well aware of the specifications of the relationship, it's no one's business but your lovers', and yours.
"Maybe this is good. Maybe this will slow me the Hell down. I feel like I'm moving too quickly, Kamisato-san, even if I think I want to. This is the strangest thing I've ever felt; I both want to, and don't want to jump your bones. Again, don't want to make this awkward… that's just how I feel. I won't dance around it. I think you're being honest, with me, so, I'll be honest with you, too. Honesty is good. That much I'm sure of."
"Immediately engaging in sexual conduct, simply because your body feels like it wants to, or worse, needs to, would, indeed, be moving a bit too quickly. You have the right idea, Floris-san. Listen to that little voice in the back of your head. It rarely steers you wrong," Kakeru stated, firmly.
It wasn't an easy statement to vocalize. Essentially, he was taking his chances of immediately burying his manhood within Floris's wonderful posterior and throwing them out of a proverbial window; but it was the right statement to vocalize. There was a sudden twang of regret, that warped into existence, close to the young man's crotch. It was almost as if his manhood was crying out in sadness, at the prospect of being denied what it sought.
Kakeru, after taking another sip from his drink, produced a soft sigh, as he leaned forward. Bouncing one leg up and down, repeatedly, against the floor beneath the booth's table, he spoke. "Tell me what you think about this. If this is really how you feel, if you're certain these feelings are something you wish to pursue, we could have other evenings out, together, so that you might have the chance to explore your feelings, and come to a sound conclusion. It will also give us the chance to learn more about one another."
Floris turned her head towards her own drink, as she settled herself in her seat; she almost instantly negated the work put into that short, but amusing ritual. Standing up, she pressed her lips to the rim of her drink's glass. Kakeru raised his left hand, and gave his unexpected date a thumb up. Floris, in response, gave a nod, and took a long sip of the drink she'd ordered.
It was cold; freezing, even. Floris's eyelids widened, as her pupils shrank, in contrast. Aside from the mouth-chilling coldness of the beverage, the alcoholic beverage tasted wonderful. It cuddled each of Floris's taste buds, caressing them, and pleasuring them. The overwhelming taste of the beverage was that of blueberry; natural, not any sort of overtly artificial flavoring.
Kakeru couldn't resist; a chuckle burst forth, from his lips, which he'd been desperately trying to keep shut. The look on Floris's face, as she consumed her alcoholic beverage was to die for. Her cheeks had become concave; with either of her palms against her face, Floris's fingers were gripping the back of her neck.
"You bastard," Floris mumbled, "stop l-laughing. It's cold!" Sitting herself back down in she and Kakeru's seat, Floris removed the palms of her hands from her cheeks, and wrapped her arms beneath her bosom. As Kakeru continued to chuckle, Floris found herself joining him. She giggled, quietly, once, before she giggled a second time, a bit more loudly.
"T-to answer your question… I'd love that. Like I said, I'm having so much fun, this evening. I'd love to do this again. There are some things I'd like to talk about, in greater detail, like that… "World Rejector" of yours, but… I guess that can wait. I still feel terrible, about that girl, and, about that strange painted man. Are you sure they're not deceased? If they're not, like you've said, you're certain that they're not in any pain? Please, Kamisato-san, don't just tell me what you think I want to hear."
"Positive," Kakeru spoke, reassuringly. "Though a truly regrettable accident, the young woman, and, for that matter, Vurthum's frontman as well, likely don't even know that anything around them had changed. You ought to be envying them, even.
"The sense of euphoria, and universal understanding that are associated with being 'banished' to another, much more Ideal World are unrivalled, even by the most potent of chemical drugs. They are in no pain, nor were they in the moment that they were 'banished'. 'Banished' is even too strong of a word. 'Moved' would be a better descriptor. Of course, the young woman's friends, and family, as well as Vurthum's frontman's friends and family… regrettably, nothing can be done to remedy any grief they'll suffer. It seems I have much to think about."
Kakeru frowned, slightly. Taking in oxygen, via a deep inhalation, the act was followed by a long exhalation of carbon dioxide. Floris rose up, once again, and brought her mouth down to the rim of her drink's glass. She managed to consume more of the alcoholic beverage, before her body was seemingly forced away; Floris waved her hands, repeatedly, at her sides, as she shook her head from side to side, teeth clattering.
"S-soooo cold, w-w-woooow. T-thank you, Kamisato-san. It's s-still a troubling concept, b-but, at least, they aren't in any pain. I b-believe you. Y-you've never really g-given me a… c-cold… wow. You've never really given me a reason not to trust you, Kamisato-san. I really don't know what I can say about the families, and friends, of those who were 'moved'. Is there anything to say? The whole thing sucks. The first instance was an accident, but, it still sucks. The second instance? I don't know what to make of that. I really wish it didn't happen."
Kakeru rewarded Floris with a small, forced smile, that made her heart skip a beat, and then continue on its path, beating at a quickened pace.
"Let's think about grabbing something to eat."
Turning his attention to the crumpled menu that sat before him, next to his bottle of Moose Knight, Kakeru moved to flip the first page open. Kakeru placed his right hand's fingers against the first page, and his left hand's fingers against the second page. With some struggle, Kakeru managed to pry the two pages apart; Floris ducked, with swiftness that both surprised and impressed a relieved Kakeru, only just avoiding his right elbow, which accidentally arced outwards, in her direction.
"What… what is THAT?"
Floris quickly whipped her head to one side, and tilted it to the side, raising an eyebrow in concern. "Kamisato-sa… oh, good God."
On the menu's first page, covering at least half of a picture of a rather plump, seemingly topping-less hamburger, was a smeared wad of some unknown, semisolid substance. Dark brown, in coloration, the wad was surrounded by tiny, presumably deceased winged insects, no larger than an inch or two in size. Their bodies were mostly black, their wings seemingly of the same color.
"Is that…?"
"It's shit, Kamisato-san. It's got to be shit. Or a nasty booger. Either way…"
Floris shook her head, as she pushed her own menu away from her, with the tip of her finger, her lips curling into a disgusted cringe, as she did so. "L-let's just finish our drinks and go."
Kakeru looked from his left, and then, to his right, somewhat nervously. "Y-yeah. Sounds good, Floris-san. Sounds great. No complaints here."
October 9th, 2014. 8:32 PM.
Touma checked the fly of his own legwear; it was zipped into place. He swiftly checked either cup of his wife's bra; both were placed carefully over either of her breasts. The married couple's explicit ride had come to an end, and Kamijou Touma, with the slumbering form of his wife, Kamijou Misaki, in his arms, stepped out from the interior of their lift car, once it came to a halt, and back out, onto the solid ground of the small, wooden, cottage-like structure.
Carefully manoeuvring, so that Misaki's head wouldn't be accidentally hit against the side of the entranceway of the lift car, Touma tried to keep his head down, as young people, mostly young women, who'd crowded into the cottage-like structure were visibly swooning, and whispering amongst themselves.
Misaki's right arm was wrapped around his husband's shoulders, her left arm dangling, occasionally swinging back and forth, from side to side, as Touma walked. On Misaki's face, her lips had curled upwards, into a warm, contented grin. Her cheeks were perpetually glowing pink.
Kamijou Touma set himself down, sitting his posterior upon one of the nearby benches. He laid his wife out on his lap, supporting her neck, and the back of her head with his right arm. Gently, Touma tapped the left side of Misaki's face with his left hand's index, and middle fingers.
"Misaki, beautiful, hustle! Time to get up, soldier!" Touma whispered, trying to restrain a chuckle, into his beloved's ear.
When this failed, Touma attempted more than once to wake his slumbering lover by whispering into her ears, increasing the volume of each whisper progressively. Finally, following continued failed attempts at waking Misaki, Touma switched his technique up, and moved in, lowering his face towards his wife's. He nearly kissed her on the lips, before he reeled back, and resisted the urge. That could wait, until he and his beloved had washed their respective mouths out. Touma instead placed his left hand's index fingers to her lips, instead. Once, then, twice, then, a third time.
A series of "kisses" seemed to get the job done. Kamijou Misaki's eyelids fluttered open, revealing her golden, starry pupils. For the briefest of moments, Touma thought he saw confusion, in her eyes.
He hadn't been wrong; upon seeing the warm, welcoming facial expression of her husband, however, the confusion subsided, within her, the shadowy tendrils of slumber being shrugged off with it. Misaki rose up, and, looking into her husband's eyes, she smiled, warmly, as she gently moved herself away from Touma, slightly.
"I fell asleep?! Oh, Touma, I am sorry. How long was I asleep for? I hope you were not bored, or lonely. You could have woken me up at any time."
"Like, ten minutes, maximum," Touma remarked, reassuringly. "We're still chummy. I almost dozed off, too, but, got woken up. Surprised you didn't, either. Some drone bumped into our car. Pretty small, a white thing, looked like one of the drones the City uses. People, I swear."
"A drone?" Misaki inquired. Closing her hands into fists, she rubbed them against her eyes, as she produced a soft, quiet yawn. "What would a drone be doing so close to our lift car? It must have been fairly close, in order to physically bump into the car's exterior."
Touma shrugged, and tilted his head one side, as if to physically accent his lack of knowledge on the matter. "Your guess is as good as mine, beautiful. Could've just been a glitch? Unless they're controlled by actual people, and not some sort of AI. If so, I can't say I know. Maybe someone fell asleep at the controls? I can see it happening."
Before the married couple could continue pondering, another lift car arrived; the lift car the Kamijous had rode in was long gone, having been taken over by a group of rowdy youths, who'd piled inside, unaware of the sexually explicit activities which the previous occupants had engaged in.
Out from the lift car walked a tired-looking Accelerator, and an amused-looking Othinus, who sat atop his shoulder, her left leg crossed elegantly over her right.
"You know, "number one", theoretically speaking…"
"If I hear the word "theoretically" one more fucking time, I'm going to kill someone," Accelerator announced. "She's told me shit that's making my goddamn head spin. How do you put up with this? Take the one-eyed brat, for fuck's sake. Isn't she your fucking responsibility?"
Touma failed to restrain the chuckle that'd escaped his lips; though Accelerator had initially shot quite the nasty glare in Touma's direction, it'd faded into an almost goofy look of resignation quickly enough. "She does that, Accel. Othi-chan likes explaining things. I've learned more from Othi-chan than I ever learned in school. You ought to pay attention; she has a lot of good stories to tell, and lessons to impart. Anyway, glad to see you two getting along so well. I think Othi-chan might've found boyfriend material. Could you see it, beautiful?
"Accel and Othi-chan, sitting in a tree. G. First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes a little Othi-chan/Accel hybrid in a baby carriage!"
Misaki placed the palm of her right hand over her mouth, and closed her eyes, tightly, as she began to giggle.
Accelerator closed the distance between himself, and the married couple. Sitting his posterior upon the bench's seat, a few inches between himself, and the Kamijous, he closed his eyes. "I'll put you in a fucking tree, hero; with a rope around your neck."
"Tsundere," Misaki teased. "Perhaps we will have to take you to Hawaii. Your true feelings might just be revealed, there."
The "top dog" of Academy City, and the tiny, former Magic God looked to one another, confused.
"Hawaii?" The duo asked, in unison. Both of their respective higher minds turned to the past. Neither was particularly fond of the memories that were dredged up.
Shaking his head, from left to right, Touma chuckled, quietly. "You should know this one, guys, come on. Do you really not remember? It was where we and Misaka got everything out in the open, and put everything into perspective."
Accelerator clicked his tongue, in response. Leaning forward, he rested his chin against the knuckles of his left hand, which had curled into a fist. "Oh. The third ranked and the fifth ranked? Guess I did. Dunno about the one-eyed brat. Lucky for them. I would've tossed the both of you into the fucking atmosphere if you would've kept that goddamn bickering up."
Othinus didn't verbally respond. Instead, she forced a smile, and looked down to her tiny, bare feet. Somehow, even after a decade, her past actions still haunted her, hanging over her little head like a storm cloud.
Accelerator craned his neck in the tiny, former Magic God's direction, and flashed her a predatory grin. "You're pretty quiet all of a sudden, one-eyed brat. Cat got your tongue?"
Her smile, synthetic, and forced, at first, was slowly becoming more genuine. Othinus produced a soft giggle, and closed her eyes.
"Don't you dare bring that up."
For some few moments, the quartet sat, on the bench, as silence descended over the group. Misaki eventually managed to lift herself away from her husband's warm, comfortable lap, and set herself down next to him. She'd taken his left hand into her own right; as always, their fingers had become interlocked.
Othinus looked away from adoring onlookers of all ages; Accelerator succeeded in ensuring that said onlookers kept their distance, simply by existing.
It was the tiny, former Magic God who broke the comfortable, if monotonous silence that'd descended among the group.
"So? Is that it? Are we done, or, are we actually going to make to "the Butchery"?
Touma didn't verbally answer; at least, his vocal cords didn't provide the answer. His stomach did. It growled, loudly, crying out to be fed. Misaki lowered her head, and snorted, before she began to giggle. Accelerator rolled his eyes, and clicked his tongue, apparently in annoyance, before he gave in, and produced a soft chuckle. Othinus leapt down, into the lap of Academy City's "top dog", where she sat herself down, quite elegantly, upon her knees. She clasped her little hands, and placed them in her lap.
"It's not too late, so, we could get up to more trouble," Touma remarked. "Depends on how everyone's feeling. We should probably check up on the girls, before we do anything else. Wonder what kind of trouble they're getting up to?"
"I am certain they are behaving themselves, husband," Misaki stated. Crossing her right leg, over her left, she leaned back, stretching her bones. Her right foot bounced, repeatedly, as she shook her head, from side to side. "I would not mind speaking to them, however. I miss our little nun."
"If the other brat's home," Accelerator began, "who fucking knows. If not, probably nothing too bad. The brat knows better. The other one? She does, too. She just likes fucking with people."
"By "people", you mean, "just me"? Touma inquired, chuckling, as he looked to his lap, purposely avoiding Accelerator's gaze.
Academy City's "top dog" produced a grunt. "Keep it up, goddamn hero. Keep it up."