Grim (MXM) Book 2

Chapter 3 - Theatrics

Kisha decides to start his day early, more agitated than his usual morning demeanor as he searches through his clothes drawer. He wasn't mindful of his claw-shaped fingertips, which he normally took care to manage, and some of his clothes bore the brunt of his negligence. Classes have yet to begin, nor sun risen, but Kisha's fuel resides in determination. In the dead of night, while engrossed in his homework, an update had come through: Diamond was openly promoting his gang's dealings. Kisha interprets this as a ploy to draw out Azrael. It was an obvious tactic in a school where egos often led to quick acceptance of challenges. Kisha's current mission is to uncover the finer details of this scheme without drawing attention to himself.

Fingers extend, clutching a handful of clothes, tossed, he moves swiftly across the room, yet his underwear remains elusive. The urgency palpable, his thoughts cloud with doubt. Despite the anxiety, his movements are fluid. He flings some items onto the bed, then turns to the large wardrobe and repeats the action. His closet is crammed with identical garments, making his search even more perplexing. Nerves fuel this frenzied search.

Because Kisha was naturally a bit bulkier and more well-defined than the average human being, Saikai's parents decided to loan him the proper funds to get his uniforms fit to his figure. He wasn't a fan of anyone touching him and gave the tailor a hard time and some fear- embarked stares.

Last year, the blazers had been a bit snug, and despite his young adult age, his growth has yet to stop, necessitating new sets for him to wear.

Now, there was room for his shoulders to move freely. He's indifferent to forgoing the blazer, yet Mrs. Himmons prefers him to be well-dressed whenever she makes an appearance as if to dispel any notions of him being troublesome or the offspring of a mobster.

Her expression always seems lifeless and eyes of vacancy as she would often comment that Kisha resembles the impassive stone statue that greets visitors at their residence. For the moment, he considers her words, aiming to be presentable to her standards.

Donning a fresh button-up, a blazer, and securing his jet-black belt with his shirt neatly tucked in – opting to go without undergarments – Kisha reaches for the brush on his desk. However, grabbing it too swiftly, the wooden brush escapes his relaxed hold, a thudding sound as it hits the floor.

It must've been the sound of a bomb. Not a moment too soon--

"I'm up!!!"

A sudden loud call abruptly breaks the silence, prompting Kisha to whirl around, alert, directing a stern glare at what appears to be a recovering drunk from a night out. As if struck by a gust of wind, blankets flung aside, and pillows turn to catapult, revealing a figure with disheveled red curls. A leap from a prone to a seated position. His squinted eyes scan the dimly lit room for any hint of light.

A blurry gaze settles on a dark, ominous figure floating above Kisha's side of the room. Large and levitating, it ignites a frenzy within Saikai and elicits nothing but a heavy sigh from Kisha. Here we go again. With each passing day, Saikai grew more unpredictable and increasingly irritating. Growing up, Kisha was always able to push the annoyance out of his mind, but in recent months everything frustrated him and Saikai-- Kisha wanted to hurt him physically sometimes.

"K-Kisha!! We got a robber! I-It's Azrael... He's big as fuck!"

Saikai plunges his face into his hands, vigorously massaging his beautiful, sleep-deprived sage-green eyes before mustering the strength to rise from his bed. However, that did nothing to help the blur because his squinting eyes blinks rapidly trying to make out what he had been seeing.

Wearing nothing but the top half of his pajama set, only one button buttoned at his groin. Everything else was bare and with the lift of his arms...

Exposed.