(This thread follows immediately after this post. If you have not read it yet, I recommend doing so first.)

(Mature themes ahead.)

Swollen blotches of red took shape over grooves of indentation where teeth marks once branded sexual exercise. Beneath the flimsy, easily torn fabric of her bikini top, as well as along spindly arms of wire width. They were not new to her, tended to with a scrubbing of soap and rag.

That was how her evenings often ended. Mayu begged to withdraw and be provided with lust from every pore of their measly bodies. She pined after the snapping of teeth and rending of flesh that poured the wine of lewd desire into the goblet of her vessel. The emptiness could only be sedated by it. The fulfillment she craved at arm's length sucked in and devoured whole. That was her selfish gluttony. Could one not provide it, she desired not. They were worthless; her masochistic appetite guiding her toward the next potential interest.

On her own bed, a sole structure in an empty dorm room, she sat. Cool sheets licked at her bare feet, toes turning inward to grip the fabric and guarantee its shelter. Noodle thin arms crossed at the support of knee, spine hooking in a lazy slouch. A finger ran laps at the gash in her head, no longer bleeding but still raw with throbbing ache. She flinched at her own touch, features contorting in bitterness. The one that caused it was insufferably thought on.

"Bastard," she uttered of Reiji.

The door was stared at, anticipating it being blown from its hinges. In the wake of agitation would be Reiji, a serrated knife in hand, eager to cut her limb by limb. Was he something like salvation to her in that moment? He was the first in years that lashed out at her for snubbing self-importance. Had the exchange not excreted a sticky wetness from her, surely she would have maimed him.

Her thoughts of the violence one day prior was disturbed with a clicking tap of sound on her window. The white of hair, like chopped snow on a mountain's summit, coupled with the cut of teal hue of marveled eyes leering in like a perverted child, was enough to make her wish those majestic thoughts of Reiji cutting her into mincemeat were real. A pair of black denim shorts that barely hugged the cream color of her round rear enabled limber legs to unravel and find rise to her figure. A lissom motion brought her to the window, replying to the leer with one of her own. Unlike his look, hers could kill. He barely had room to balance himself on the third story of her room, juts of walling for hands and feet the only thing keeping him pressed to her window.

"Get lost, dick," she demanded loud enough for him to hear, naked hand punching the glass with enough force to emit a sound but not shatter its fragile existence. The pop startled him, holding on for what seemed to be dear life.

The boy laughed, hands and nose alike smearing the pane with grease. "Aw! That's no way to greet your only friend, May. No, Mayu-HiME," a Cheshire grin.

He knew she hated that title. The window was pulled open in a startling jerk of movement, reaching out through the orifice to grip him by the collar and yank him indoors. He spun and danced gracefully with her momentum, arm cutting the clutching lifeline, forcing her to release him. He landed without fault on her bed, elbows to his thighs in a perverse lean. "So soon, Mayu? I like to get spanked a little before I get down to the good stuff."

Teeth clenched together, slamming the window closed. She should have pushed him. That's all it would have taken.

"What the hell do you want, Hideo? I'm busy," dragging herself away from him with considerable distance in mind. The door was too obvious a direction to take, and she'd had enough of them for one week. She fell into a lean against the wall, arms folding over exposed midriff.

He cackled with delight, hands meeting in applause. He needn't reason to glance over the room to note she was lying. "I'll let you get back to your solitude of sulking and masturbation soon enough, Mayu. For now, I thought it'd be important I pay you a visit for your birthday." From a pocket, he passed a metal cylinder through the air to her. A prism of colors sprawled rainbow streaks across the walls as it captured rays of morning sun, the metal a marvelous hue of multiple shades.

She hadn't time to consider killing him because of his quip, intrigued by the shoot of metal. It was turned several times in hand after catching it with one hand. "You got me a baton? Are you suggesting I pick up a hobby besides men?"

Hideo snickered, arms up and out to either of his sides. Again, the moment chance of thought to crucify him to her wall came into play. "Not at all, Mayu! I thought this the perfect opportunity you take a vacation! School's out for the festival, and you look like you could use a break!"

The baton was lifted to eye level, jiggling it in her grasp. "And this is??"

A tilt of childish, girlish features implied he hadn't any reason to amuse her with an explanation. As if telling her was a favor rather than means of enlightenment. "I've had the science department set something up even your wildest fantasies couldn't fathom. That'll help you get there."

Wildest fantasies? Men that knew what they wanted and had the stamina to last for weeks at a time? The baton spun idly in her hand, looking over the plain cylinder several times. Hideo was accommodating to herself, as well as several other women, so she had little question what his motives were. She always viewed him as a lucid playboy, much too simple for her interests.

She unglued herself from the wall, the woman of monotone black and white spilling over reality in a languid approach to her classmate. The cylinder lowered to his head, a fire building in her deadlocked gaze. Give her a moment to think of intentions, she'll crack his skull open with the baton. "Thanks for the phallus, but I prefer more natural things like fingers or the real deal, Hideo. Now, you can take your perverted toy and get the fuck out of my room."

Brows knitted together, pouting up to Mayu. "Aw, really? You're not even going to put a show on for me?" Now he was the sardonic one, kicking off of the bed in a jump. He moved over to the door, figuring he'd have better luck getting away through conventional means rather than the window. She was apt to push him out. He knew that from experience. "Keep it on you and walk through the janitor's closet across the hall. You'll see I'm not out for a cheap thrill with you. But rather, an outstanding one."

An arm wound, heaving the baton with an overarm pitch intent on splitting his head like a melon. Hideo was through the door and gone, unscathed by their meeting. The pang of metal filled the room, the hollow shoot piercing silence as it rolled across the tile of her floor.

In a moment of pure d?j? vu, she hissed, "Bastard?"

He did intrigue her, though. Collecting her slumped jacket at the end of her bed, she followed after the pitched baton. "Walk through the janitor's closet? I swear, if Old Man Hester is naked, I'm going to chop both their dicks off and eat them with stir fry."

Trench jacket with embroidered star slipped on, baton in the dip of a pocket, she headed on out the door. She'd give Hideo's "gift" a chance.