Aside from staying out of others' conflicts and soap being the downfall of many an anus, Tetsuhiro had learned in prison that random encounters from other people usually meant fights. Had he been involved in any? Not really. Gotten close? Definitely. It was pretty much unavoidable, but thanks to a bit of misdirection, he'd managed to get out of fights by turning aggression previously directed at him on someone else.

For the most part, his lack of a 'filter' with words was the reason for these fights. But he'd said basically nothing to this Tyrant, so being pushed against a wall in a nearby alley and having the blade—still lined with blood—held to his throat seemed uncalled for.

"All right, Imma give you about—eh—three, maybe five words to explain yourself," he explained. "I expect these rules to be followed. Anything over and I will kill you. Anything under and I'll wound you lethally."

"I escaped from prison," Tetsuhiro answered.

"That's four words," Tyrant pointed out. "I said three or five."

"You said three, maybe five," Tetsuhiro corrected.

"I didn't say you could use four."

"You didn't say I couldn't use four."

"I said to follow the rules."

"You never said how strictly."

Tyrant stared at him flatly. Tetsuhiro stared back in a similar fashion.

The blade left his neck without any injuries.

"You pass," Tyrant said.

"Pass what?"

"Test one: a diagnostic on how much of a bastard you are. You pass with colors that fly."

"You mean 'flying colors?'"

"I did not."

"How did you not?"

"Are you questioning me?"

"I am."

"Why is that?"

"Because I want to know how you don't see the synonimity of the two expressions."

His eyes narrowed. "M'kay, so you're gonna be that way." Tyrant unpinned Tetsuhiro from the wall and yanked him closer. Despite their height difference, Tyrant wrapped his arm around Tetsuhiro's shoulders and led him back out into the main street. "Lemme give you some advice—first in a series. Ooh, but that means it has to have a name. Hmm—I know! I'll call it 'Tyrant's Tips.' Excellent title."

"Uh-huh."

"Last I recall, the upward inflection in my voice was lacking in that last sentence."

Tetsuhiro wasn't sure if he was supposed to be offended or not.

"Anyway, tips! If you're gonna succeed here, drop your fuckin' dialect and adopt mine. Do you have to adopt mine? Not necessarily."

"Didn't you just say—?"

"Ah! I was not done. Tip two: don't interrupt Tyrant when he speaks."

The flashback to childhood made Tetsuhiro want to smash Tyrant's head against the nearest wall—conveniently a few feet away. But he refrained; he still hadn't gotten over how pretty it was.

"Back to tip one, when I said 'mine' the first time, I meant 'mine' as in the region's."

"So Coal is yours?"

A sudden burst of pain in his stomach elicited a grunt and an ache from Tetsuhiro.

"Tip one, subsection a: never use those terms when naming the regions. Here, they're North, South, East, and West. Never Coal, Ruby, Jade, and Diamond."

"Got it," Tetsuhiro wheezed.

"God, you keep interrupting me; it's so inconvenient." He shook his head disappointedly. "Anyway, to answer your previous question, North is split into a few different regions, but I'll explain that a little later. North's dialect is far different from anywhere else. Kinda similar to South since it's a little poorer, but it's as similar as a bat to a bird. They can both fly, but they're totally different animals. Compared to West, though, it's as different as a banana and a cat. Words like 'synonimity' will get you found out quicker than a fag in a room full of naked straight men.

"Now, this leads me to the second part of what I said before. My way of speech specifically is a little different than North's. That's due to my background, which I also won't get into right now. Too lengthy."

And this wasn't? Tetsuhiro thought.

"So how do I change my dialect?" he asked.

"Minimally, start swearing a lot."

"Easy."

"Excellent. Anyway, you should also learn a bit of slang. The fucker I killed back there called you a Mixer, right?"

Tetsuhiro nodded.

"That's a term for...I think they call it a disc master in West. It's a person in a club or at a party who's responsible for the music. He called you that because usually Mixers don't talk. They just play."

"Clever."

"For an organ harvester, yeah."

A little more walking led them out of the city and onto the coast. It was a different area from where Tetsuhiro came, though. Rather than a destroyed village, it was just a dock. The wood was rotten, the boards staying together by the sheer force of will. A few boats—mostly upside-down or half-there—floated in the murky waters, also rotten and maggot-infested.

Among all these almost-sunken vessels was something that partially resembled a jet ski. However, the back of the ski hosted a glass panel that resembled a windshield. It was completely black, save for the windshield, and had the letter 'T' painted on the side in red.

"Like it?" Tyrant asked.

Tetsuhiro nodded.

"I modified it myself. The water would always splash my back and sides and get my shit wet. And lemme tell you, wet spandex is not something desirable."

"It wouldn't make the spandex wet, would it?" Tetsuhiro asked. Surprisingly, he'd never worn any in his life.

"Kinda. But the main thing is the squeakiness. Makes me wanna kill myself more than I already do."

Tyrant climbed onto the front seat of the ski, his citrine eyes focused on the dashboard. It was then that Tetsuhiro noticed the impressive display of controls and gauges that occupied the surface. Closer inspection of the ski revealed a few slits and attachments, partially obscured by the water.

"Fuck you waiting for?" Tyrant asked. "Get on."

Tetsuhiro followed his instruction and sat on the second seat. Tyrant twisted a few knobs and pushed a few buttons. The sides of the ski rose, further shielding the duo from the water.

"Tricked the bitch out too," he said. "Though I had to get a little assistance for a few things. Rewiring controls, mostly."

He revved the ski by twisting one of the handlebars, and after stomping on something Tetsuhiro couldn't see, the duo was off.

Tyrant didn't lie when he implied that the adjustments helped. Even as the ski shredded through the water, very little of it splashed on them. Whether for fun or impression Tetsuhiro didn't know, but Tyrant performed a few spins and jumps as they rode. He cackled after each stunt, but it wasn't an annoying cackle. It was arrogant, definitely, but it had a sexy quality to it, too. Hell, everything about him had a sexy quality to it. Based on his behavior earlier, that was intentional. But Tetsuhiro couldn't say that he cared. For the first time in awhile, he found himself a little turned on.

Eventually Tyrant slowed down, and a few minutes after that, he stopped completely. Again he pushed the buttons, and the sides lowered once more. Tyrant stepped onto the shore, but Tetsuhiro lingered for a brief moment.

They'd landed on a small island—nothing too excessive, but it was big enough to sport a building. It resembled a landfill, almost, comprised of multiple different pieces of what looked like garbage that formed one massive pile of it. Rather than a straight square or rectangle, the building had a horizontal rectangle with a vertical one on top, from both of which multiple smaller structures jutted. They were all different constructions and colors—one was wooden and green, while another other one was dark and made out of bricks. A couple spires dotted the structure, too, mostly toward the top of the horizontal rectangle.

"Impressive, right?" Tyrant asked.

Most of the impressiveness came from how it had managed to stay intact, but he nodded all the same.

"Now, this part I only did a little of. Come on."

Tetsuhiro left the ski and followed Tyrant inside.

He'd only known him for about half an hour, but Tetsuhiro could say with complete confidence that the building reflected Tyrant to the greatest extent: misleading on the exterior and eccentric on the interior. There was only one floor, and that was the one that they'd entered through the front door. The vertical rectangle's insides were completely hollow, save for what looked like a pulley system that extended from the ceiling. Each spire also lacked a real floor, instead hosting a hole in the middle from which wooden ladders extended. The ground resembled a normal apartment, with a kitchen, entertainment space, and dining table. Bookshelves twice Tetsuhiro's height stood against the walls, though for the most part they were filled with small knick-knacks rather than books. There were some, yes, but there were few enough that they could just be called 'shelves.' Weapons hung from the walls, too. Maces, swords, knives, chains, whips—but never a firearm. Further inspection of the ceiling revealed what looked like a rail system. A few bars on wheels hung from the rails, which Tetsuhiro noticed had small boxes attached to them.

"This, I did myself. Minus the little holes in the spires. I carved out the holes, but for the most part the floor was already there."

"It's...really impressive," Tetsuhiro said.

Tyrant chuckled. "You flatter me. Keep that up and you will excel here." He snapped his fingers once. "Ah, right. I almost forgot." He turned so he faced Tetsuhiro, then cupped either of his cheeks and pulled him into a kiss.

Tetsuhiro widened his eyes and flinched a little. But after he'd recovered from the basic response, he found himself kissing back a little. Warmth spiked in his heart, and he could feel it grow in his pants, too. He was just about to reach down Tyrant's body when the bastard broke it off.

"Mmm," he mumbled with a lick of his lips. "You're a fag, right?"

Tetsuhiro blinked. "Uh…I'm gay, yeah."

"Tip...four? Am I on four?"

"Three."

"Ah, okay. Tip three: don't use technical terms often. 'Gay' is technically less technical than 'homosexual,' but fag's the norm here. It isn't meant derogatorily, either. Just commonplace."

"Are you a fag?"

"Why would you assume?"

Tetsuhiro shrugged. "You called me a sexy beast earlier."

"Ah, that. No, I'm not a fag. I'm comfortably bisexual."

"Any special term for that?"

"No one specific one. Some use splitter, some use dualist, but most use bisexual."

"Ah, okay."

"I'll go over slang as we go." Tyrant walked to the middle of the space, right under the hollow rectangle. He grabbed a cord and seated himself in a little hammock that rested within the pulley system. He pulled on the ropes, and gradually he ascended. "Oh, fact about me: I hate stairs. Hate everything about them. Too boring and uniform." He continued up the system until he reached one of the spires. Then he locked it in place somehow and swung to the floor. A few ministrations later, the pulley released, and the hammock fell to the floor again. "Get up here."

Tetsuhiro seated himself in the hammock and mirrored Tyrant's actions. When he reached the spire Tyrant was in, Tyrant showed him how to lock the ropes in place. Once Tetsuhiro stood with him in the spire, Tyrant let it fall again.

"So what now?" Tetsuhiro asked.

With extreme enthusiasm Tyrant said, "I'm gonna kill you."