{ UNRELENTING. }

// this may seem a bit sudden but it’s time to say goodbye to kamui............... 

// alrighty! i’m thinking of starting kamui here fresh one last time before he probably has to go -- i’ve dropped all but 2 of his threads and now he wants some new interactions. note that his strength has been unlocked, though i’m really not aiming for fight threads around now. just some light-hearted cringe-worthy fun!

The difference is apparent immediately. A half-assed kick at the vending machine which stubbornly refuses to deposit his chocolate bar doesn’t merely leave a dent -- but smashes right through plastic, metal, and glass with a sharp smash that can be heard all the way down the street.

Kamui stares at his foot incredulously for a moment, then pulls it out and throws a kick at the side of the machine, toppling it over. The glass splinters, leaving a wide, jagged hole through which he can pull out his precious candy.

It’s the thing’s fault for not doing what he told it to, right?

He might have stopped there, now his justice has been wrought. Instead, he puts his foot through the glass in another place, this time tearing down that barrier entirely. He’d wanted this candy too, and that one -- now he doesn’t have to make a careful choice; he can have it all! For free! Ain’t that a miracle?

he has been Unleashed.

The throne was made of corpses, lying in a disorderly pile -- some torn limb from limb, some looking like they might only be sleeping but for the blood trickling from holes in their heads. Splinters of bone took on a sickly glow under the unnatural lights; weapons stuck out of the pile at odd angles. Most of the bodies had belonged to soldiers, specially-trained by the city he’d come from in order to fight against this one. Really, their effort was laughable. He was doing his side a favour, killing off the weaklings before they had a chance to ruin a more important mission. They should be thanking him, not mistaking him for the enemy.

The victims’ blood stood out vividly against his pale skin; he raised one dripping hand and turned it over to examine the contrast. It was... pretty, that was all the child’s mind could summon up. He was no poet.

He’d managed to tire himself out, his small, hungry body lacking the endurance to fight all day like he would’ve wanted. But he could say he was sitting here because it made him feel powerful -- that seemed cooler. It definitely felt more like the legacy he wanted.

“Yo!”

A voice called out to him, and he turned to find its source, wiping his hand somewhat clean on his pant leg before offering a wave.

And froze, his hand still held up, to stare. Like in one of those weird movies where people time-travelled back to change their own choices, that guy approaching him was Kamui, too, the Kamui of the future. Huh... so he wasn’t going to beef up any? But he didn’t look too bad, wearing an outfit of pristine white as though challenging himself to see how stained it could get by the end of the day. There was a bounce to each step those skinny legs took. Like he found something to be happy about.

Kamui knew better.

The Kamui of the future (or of this city, he guessed) grinned a mischievous grin. “What’s this snot-nosed brat doing here, huh?”

The younger stood up at this, making himself the taller one on top of his corpse-pile. “I don’t wanna hear that line from a grown-up who still hasn’t wiped his nose at that age.”

“Hey, that’s hurtful, y’know? When ya get to be old like me, ya start to forget about things like that.”

It was hard to believe this guy was him, really. So laidback, bright-eyed, genuinely enjoying the war even knowing one of the worlds had to die. Who did this guy think he was, huh, not taking this seriously? With his clean shirt on, still smelling like blood even when it’d all been washed off. It was hard to believe he wouldn’t change at all, growing up.

“What’re you doin’ all the way over here?”

“I live here, kid. What’re you doin’ here? Killin’ your own allies?” The other Kamui observed the pile idly, before pulling a gun from a dead man’s hand and pocketing it. “Not the wisest choice, if ya wanna win the war.”

There was no need to be wary about the gun -- they both knew he could kill someone faster without it.

A short pause filled the air between them before the child replied, “I win either way, long as I get ta’ have fun. Killin’ your city’s losers ain’t that exciting.”

The older Kamui laughed. “You’re right about that, but ain’t that the wrong attitude to have? Gotta have a bit more ambition!”

This caught his attention, somehow -- this was his future self, and maybe he’d done some great things. “What kinda ambition you got, then?”

“Same as you. To be the strongest.” And the other stepped up to pat his younger self on the head.

He caught the outstretched hand, pushing it back. “What kinda strong is that? I could beat you, right here and now!”

“That’s more like it!” For a moment that smile almost seemed to waver, then it returned wider than ever. “But I ain’t gonna fight you.”

“Because I’m a kid? Don’t--”

“Because I don’t wanna cause any weird time paradoxes. Besides,” without warning, and with too much force to avoid, the grown-up Kamui grabbed the little Kamui under the arms and lifted him up. “You’re kinda cute! I'm gonna keep you.”

“Like hell you are!” But the attempts to squirm out or kick his other self away were ineffectual. 

This unexpected scene of tranquillity can be observed for about ten seconds, before Kamui shifts his weight, drawing his arm back -- a small neon-green ball in hand.