For the next few hours, a game of 'how rough can this shit get,' ensued. Five, maybe six times they had sex, and that questionable number was only as such because they moved positions five or six times. As for how many times semen spurted from either of them—well, that number was a bit too difficult to pinpoint.

Following a particularly intense session—their last, incidentally—both of them had practically passed out. A red-faced, panting Tyrant lay in a sprawled heap atop Tetsuhiro's bare, semen-covered body. His hair had long since passed the point of tangled, but it had an appealing knottedness to it. Tetsuhiro ran his fingers through one section of his hair that hadn't turned into a rat's abode. Despite how much Tyrant abused his hair, it was surprisingly smooth. Then again, he also went through an entire bottle of hair growth pills a week—or, at least, that's what he'd said.

"You good yet?" Tetsuhiro whispered. He couldn't get much louder without tearing his vocal cords apart. About an hour and a half ago he and Tyrant had gotten into an aggressive shouting match—he'd won. Somehow.

"Do I look good?" Tyrant mumbled.

"You don't have to be a dick about it," Tetsuhiro replied.

"Fuck you."

"I already did."

Tyrant lifted himself a little and scowled. "I hate you," he mumbled.

"Really?" He scooped up a bit of semen from his chest and licked his finger. "This says otherwise."

"Fuck off."

Tetsuhiro reached for Tyrant's dick, only for the rat-haired bastard to jerk away and fall to the floor. Tetsuhiro rolled his eyes and lay on his side, his arm under the only unsoiled pillow in the place. He was ninety percent certain that Tyrant's reactions were fake, but he still enjoyed what had happened. Anything was nice after going without sex for about six months, but what Tyrant had given him resembled the most delectable confectionary there was.

"You gonna get up or not?" Tetsuhiro asked.

"Probably not," Tyrant replied.

"Why not?"

"Too far. Too wet."

"You weren't upset a few minutes ago."

"I was more heated a few minutes ago."

"You're cleaning this shit up," Tetsuhiro told him.

He didn't have to turn around to know that Tyrant had sat up. "Bullshit I'm cleaning it up. You're the bitch!"

"You made this mess, Tyrant."

"Bullshit!"

"True shit. Everything that was mine is in you in some way."

"I will piss all over this fucking bed."

Rather than dignify it with a response, Tetsuhiro closed his eyes and scoffed. Tyrant growled softly, but from what he could hear, he'd just climbed into bed like a sensible person. For the next few minutes nothing occurred, just breathing. Despite being durable, Tetsuhiro was human, and as such he was victim to exhaustion. Experiencing that now, his entire body was ready to shut down and plunge him into a twelve-hour-long nap.

But Tyrant instead decided to send him into a twelve-hour-long shower.

He reacted the way that anyone would react to having piss showered upon them like a waterfall—intense flailing and shouting. He didn't regret mocking Tyrant, but he saw why others would have done so in his situation, as he fell onto the floor with the semen-stained blanket wrapped about him. Even still, Tyrant rained his golden shower upon Tetsuhiro. After some more intense flailing, Tetsuhiro threw off the blanket and scrambled to the corner of the room.

"What the fuck's wrong with you?!" Tetsuhiro shouted.

"I warned you."

"I didn't think you were serious!"

"Cuz you're dumb."

"Fuck you."

"Fuck you."

"I already did."

They scowled at one another for a solid minute before Tyrant hopped off the bed. "Well, when you're done bein' a bitch-ass, join me in the bathroom. We can shower together."

"Who said I wanted to?"

"Me, the divines in the sky, and this ass." He clicked his tongue before exiting the bedroom.

At first Tetsuhiro resolved to just shower separately, but after realizing how uncomfortable piss felt after it went cold, he acquiesced and dragged himself to the bathroom.

This little cycle continued for around a week, up to and including Tyrant pissing on Tetsuhiro, even when he complied with the probable schizophrenic's requests for showering together. For the most part, the showers were uneventful. Just a normal shower, simply shared. Except for the few times when Tyrant would use a washcloth to pelt Tetsuhiro's ass, but yanking his ample hair usually took care of that. Perhaps Tyrant wanted to give him some sort of retribution for 'wrecking his ass,' even though Tyrant had instigated each ravagement brought upon it.

On an especially overcast, somewhat snowy day, Tyrant came up from the styling studio in an outfit relatively normal—by Tyrant standards, anyway. Black denim vest, elaborate hairstyle—though now dyed light purple—artistic filigree about his eyes, and spiked bracelets. However, two things seemed out of place. First up, laced boots reached slightly above his knee when he usually went barefoot. Even more shocking, however, were the pleather pants covering his legs.

Pants.

"The fuck you so fancy for?" Tetsuhiro asked.

"Shit, I'm always fancy," Tyrant scoffed. "But for this particular occasion, it's balls cold, I have an aesthetic, and we're going shopping."

"What?"

"Pronoun check?"

"Preferably."

"We. Pronoun. Meaning 'two or more people.' Used in first person. Related word being 'us.' Contextual meaning, we are shopping for your ass so your ass can be fancy."

"Finally getting me clothes?"

"Ey, there he is! There's my ability to interpret meaning! And here I was, thinking you didn't know how shit worked. But yeah, your ass is getting clothes."

"Finally. Your shit's too small."

"Not my shit, babe."

"Really?"

"Nah. Over the years of thrashing and trashing, I've collected many a clothing item from those who have kept me company. I gave you the shit I thought would fit you. Figured you wouldn't want bras and skirts."

"I'm surprised you do," Tetsuhiro mumbled.

Tyrant's eyes narrowed. "You wanna fight?"

"I'm just surprised that you're willing to 'thrash' pussy."

He scoffed and chuckled. "Fitting that you're surprised. But one thing bitches love is men who look like women. Anyone who refutes that is either lying, in denial, or a dyke."

"I was starting to doubt there were any women here in the first place."

"Oh, they're here. You just can't tell sometimes because some of the men do what I mentioned above. Case and point, this ass. Now, drag your ass behind me and we'll venture into Aethan."


Save from his first day there, Tetsuhiro hadn't ventured off Tyrant's island at all. It wasn't for lack of desire. In fact, he wanted to explore as much as North as possible, taking in the culture and seeing if Tyrant interacted with others the same way he interacted with Tetsuhiro. His name was gained from stabbing someone with scissors for annoying him, but he had difficulty in seeing Tyrant as a figure people took seriously.

However, after docking the jet ski and strolling down the cobbled walkway that led to the district, Tetsuhiro took notice of the whispers and concerned looks of those they passed. Most had appearances somewhat reminiscent of Tyrant—electric hair colors, elaborate makeup, and somewhat ornate outfits. Surprisingly, Tyrant's outfit seemed tame.

Eventually they stopped before a shop with a lavender facade and dark lettering that read "Aethan Expertise." Tyrant reached into a pocket he apparently had and pulled out a wad of paper.

"Fifty, hundred, one-five, two, three, four-five…" He handed about half the stack to Tetsuhiro. "There's about four thousand there. That should cover it."

"Cover what?"

"Cost of your shit."

"You're not coming with me?"

"Fuck, no. I'd buy more shit for myself and piss you off cuz I'd spend twelve hours in there easily. I'm going for a walk."

"How'll I know what to get?"

He scoffed. "You think I'm an amateur? I ordered your shit in advance and got a message today that it was done. That's why I've been gone over the past few weeks."

"Oh, how nice of you."

"Shit, I know. Just go in and say 'I need Tyrant's shit,' hand him the payment, do not say 'thank you,' and then walk out. Just sit somewhere and wait like a good little bitch. I don't need your dick getting lopped off because you went somewhere you shouldn't have gone. Oh, actually, no. Find a bathroom somewhere and change into the white outfit with light blue trim on it. That way you won't look like the slaves."

He flashed a peace sign before strolling his merry ass away.

As Tyrant had instructed, Tetsuhiro went into the shop, retrieved his clothing, and, most importantly, didn't say 'thank you.' Even if Tyrant hadn't said so, he wouldn't have done it anyway. The shopkeeper was a short, stout man that barely came past Tetsuhiro's waist. His face seemed to be fixated in a permanently fucked-up hybrid of a scowl and a scrunch, and he spoke in a mumbled way that sounded both disgusted and mocking.

Finding a bathroom proved rather simple, though the interior wasn't exactly desirable. It was dirty, damp, and dank. Nevertheless, he entered a stall, stripped, and dressed himself in the white outfit. To his relief and surprise, Tetsuhiro's outfit wasn't something out of a brothel. Rather, it seemed straight out a fairytale. The shirt stretched to mid-thigh, belted with a light blue cloth that tied in the back. Attached to the blue pads on the shoulders was a cloak that enveloped his body. The pants were loose and breathable, tucked into light grey boots that reached mid-calf. Though not what he would've picked for himself, he did look fine as hell.

Upon exiting the bathroom, he set about his next task: finding Tyrant. Knowing nothing about the geography, he pulled aside a man—at least, he thought they were male—and asked about his habits when in Aethan. He pointed out a club about a block down, and after a quick nod, Tetsuhiro went off to find him.

The club itself wasn't nearly as seedy as its name "Slippery Walls" implied. Maroons and purples marked the walls, and the women and men grinding against poles were dressed in shorts and bras with dangling beads that jingled with each movement. Those watching didn't look like the unfaithful, unkempt forty-somethings that Tetsuhiro was accustomed to seeing in strip clubs. Rather, they were all well-dressed—by Northern standards, anyway—and weren't shouting at the dancers to get naked.

Finding Tyrant didn't take nearly as long as Tetsuhiro expected. Only a moment after walking in, he viewed Tyrant approaching him. His lavender hair looked a bit tousled, and his vest had one more button opened than earlier. He glanced up at Tetsuhiro, blinked a few times, and moved closer.

"Ooh, damn, you look good," Tyrant said. "Glad to see they fit well. Hopefully all the others do, too."

"You done here?"

"Yeah. Unless you wanna stay…"

"I'd prefer not to. I'm more interested in learning about the area."

"Ah, I suppose that would be good to know. Le's go, then." He threw an arm around Tetsuhiro's shoulder and led him out of the club.

"Why'd you go there?"

"To have sex."

Tetsuhiro looked at him. "Why?"

"Because I wanted to have sex. Why?" He grinned. "Jealous?"

"No, confused."

"Well, as you may have noticed, most the dancers had holes in front and back. You're a fag, but you can figure out the rest."

"Oh, right. You're 'comfortably bisexual.'"

"Ey, don't mock it! I'm very comfortable with my sexuality. I've fucked a lot of people to get here, and I prefer to stay as such."

"I never doubted you. I'm an aficionado of the sexual as well."

"Ooh, look at you, bein' all fancy and shit. Stop that, you'll get killed. Anyway, whataya wanna see?"

"What is there to see? Anything I need to be aware of?"

Tyrant twisted his lips to the side, then snapped his fingers. "Ooh, I know. Gotta show you the palace."

"Palace?"

"Mmm-hmm. My lil' 'base of operation,' essentially."

"Base?"

"Fuck yeah, base! I'm the leader of the fuckin' district. It's only natural that I have a base of operation from which I govern."

Down a few streets they went, until Tyrant stopped in front of a massive building. It resembled an event hall, and in a past life, it probably was. Unlike Tyrant's island abode, this one was much more standard- and stable-looking. Guards dressed in leather outfits—though non-revealing—stood on either side of the double-doors, through which the duo entered easily.

Paintings hung in the halls, though with no definable theme. Same for the sculptures, some of which looked like people while others were abstract. Tyrant explained that his interests were 'wide, not deep.'

Eventually they reached another door, though this one ajar. Tyrant jerked to a halt, and his eyes narrowed. "The fuck? I left this closed…"

He pulled open the door, and instantly he stiffened. It was an office, much more austere than Tetsuhiro expected. Behind the oaken desk, however, sat a person. He had short, gingery-blonde hair, and his features were impish, though he was probably in his mid-twenties. His attire resembled a typical grey suit, but black feathers surrounded the neck, wrists, and ankles, and he lacked a tie. Each hand had rings around each finger, and chains connected the rings before connecting further to a bracelet.

The man smiled. "You're finally back."

"You!" Tyrant shouted. Without a moment's hesitation he darted into the room, grabbed a wooden chair, jumped in front of the desk, and smashed said chair onto said desk. His target moved back, avoiding the wooden splinters that followed. Tyrant, crouching atop the desk and holding two of the broken legs, leapt toward him again and stabbed the wall with the legs. Again his attack missed, and his target's hands grabbed hold of Tyrant's wrists. In an instant Tyrant had his back to the man, his arms restrained behind his back.

"Honestly, Tyrant, I thought you would've known better. Breaking chairs is rather rude."

"Fuck you!" Tyrant spat, fidgeting about in his hold in a futile attempt to break free. "What the fuck are you doing here?!"

"I got a bit lonely in Medix, so I thought I'd drop in to see my favorite little fireball. You weren't here when I came, so I decided to wait for you."

"How long have you been in here?!"

"I dunno. Three, maybe four hours."

"And no one threw you out?!"

"I told them you invited me."

"And they believed you?!"

"You know how persuasive I am."

He chuckled while Tyrant continued spouting threats and nonsense. All the while, Tetsuhiro stood in the doorway, staring more at the broken chair than the struggle. That is, until the man looked up at him.

"Who's this? You brought a friend?"

Tyrant abruptly ceased shouting to look up at Tetsuhiro.

He continued, "Who are you?"

"Tetsu—Antithesis."

"Ooh, fancy. Who named you?"

"Tyrant."

"Really?" He glanced at Tyrant for a brief moment before returning his gaze to Tetsuhiro. "I can see why. You're absolutely nothing like him. Interesting that he's befriended a Westerner. He has bad blood with—"

"Ulmo!" Tyrant hissed.

"Oh, all right, I won't tell. Now, I'm gonna let you go, and if you attempt to maim me after I do, my tongue may or may not slip."

He released Tyrant, who mumbled obscenities while making his way over to Tetsuhiro once more. Tyrant looked up and hissed, "What the fuck are you waiting for? Leave!"

"What, without an introduction? Really, your manners are atrocious."

"You have a voice and a functioning mentality—you can introduce yourself."

He sighed. "Fine. Well, Antithesis, my name is Ulterior. Sometimes I'm referred to as 'Ulmo,' as the lovely Tyrant so kindly shrieked. As you could probably guess, it's a combination of 'Ulterior' and 'Motive,' which is my full name."

"He's a bastard," Tyrant grumbled.

Ulterior chuckled. "He isn't wrong. On a more formal scale, though, I'm the leader of Medix and a bridge between the mainland nations and North for trading. My persuasion abilities allow me to perform that duty with utmost efficacy."

"Why're you a bastard?" Tetsuhiro asked.

"Well, I'm very persuasive, so that comes off as arrogance to some. In Tyrant's case, well...he's just a little scorned."

"You were lovers at one point?"

Tyrant slammed his elbow into Tetsuhiro's stomach, sending the latter's upper half into a bent state.

Ulterior simply laughed. "Not quite. We fooled around a little, but in the end we weren't able to fully commit to each other. He was too explosive, and I was too distant. Even so, though, we managed to form a great bond."

Perhaps 'great' was an understatement. Based on what Ulterior had said, he had a massive hold over Tyrant. Perhaps a secret, or maybe some kind of threat.

Whatever it was, Tetsuhiro desperately wanted in on it.