“I know I would be pissed to find out I stole some orangutan looking chicken head.” When the boy's drunken mind fused the image of the heads of an orangutan and chicken, he burst out in wild laughter. He was trying to hold onto what he knew was an important timeline for finishing their little heist, but that little responsible thought was like a lifeboat awash a sea of booze. He slapped his knees, yelling joyously as his face seemed frozen in a gaping and ashamed smile; a knee-slapping that would eventually calm down and mature into a polite few pats on the back of Yamaru, as if to assure the other boy that the two were now the greatest of new friends.
It would be because the boy was so distracted by his own insecurity about how he had conducted himself in trying to introduce Yamaru to a kind of friendship arrangement that when that boy started to say something critical about Tetsu, he subconsciously put all of his attention toward the criticism, and was interrupted enough (he justified to himself) to accidentally slip and push that first locker over. When he saw his tutor get down humbly on his hands and knees and grab as many dirty articles of clothing he could lay his hands on, taking advantage of Tetsu's shortcomings while demonstrating his reverence to the female form, the boy felt immediately humbled. Tetsu wondered if he ever hoped to match his master's wisdom and piety. Tetsu, too, would get down on his knees and start picking pieces of the girls' outfits up, but had to stop himself, in dramatically pretend style, to wet his eyes as he clenched a pair of panties in his hands and looked at Yamaru. "Thank you for accepting me as a student, Sempai..." He started to melodramatically start to cry, but realized it was a dumb joke that his friend probably wouldn't understand. The fake patheticness would soon seep out into the real world though, as he thought about how no one could understand his jokes, and that he did a little bit wish he was as cool as Yamaru, whose jokes probably always made a room full of people laugh.
At literally the end of that horribly depressing thought, and like divine providence for his suffering, Yamaru praised him. He was exalted. Suddenly, some women's voices were finding their ways in through the gaps of the door to the forgotten outside world. He immediately remembered where he was and the extraordinary danger they were in. His eyes were as wide as they could be as he motioned, on his knees, with a sideways swipe of his arm that everyone (no one was talking at this particular moment) needed to be quiet so that he could mentally force himself to be sober. It was too late. His friend was turning... into... a gun? Honestly, this was not the way that even Tetsu, absolute powerhouse of tactical thinking, ever imagined this situation could resolve. He was stunned. The universe had conspired to defy it's own nature and expose it's raw randomness as a physical law, continuing to humble it's onlookers to this day when they proudly developed expectations about cause and effect.
At the apex of that transformation too, when you were certain you could not see anything else, from that moment on, that could ever surprise you. In the throes of that thought and death-like release, and at that moment, the gun and man, at the moment of their divine union, turned into an absolute knockout of a woman. He did the math... "gun + man = woman"(??) (He imagined the words written, as if in a scene, on a chalkboard). "What the fuck?... Was he really so drunk that the very fabric of reality seemed to be falling apart? Did he have a drinking problem? These were serious questions that needed answers, but, in an absolute twist of cosmic horror and irony, he knew he would never be able to predict these answers without being sober. What more was there to do but to bask in the sweet embrace of superficial beauty and nihilistic hedonism with the calm knowledge of the impending absolute erasure of all of history, heat, life, and a future of any sort. He wrapped his arms gently around Yamaru's new siren-esque form. He softly groped her from behind, whispering in her ear, as if a stray thought had found a way to materialize in the real world, "Is this the end?"
After about two seconds, as if the severity of what he had done had just hit him again with a dizzying effect of understanding his need for an immediate and obviously impossible sobriety. He lept backwards and put his hand up defensively, not even knowing how to explain himself since any reasonable excuse that made him maybe not seem quite as perverted as he really was, each one of those excuses, nonetheless, would only ever be an admission of being a slightly less degenerate imitation of the most reprobate possible version of the boy across all alternate universes (which was, of course, this Tetsu). He thought of the excuses instead, deciding he'd pick the one that sounded best once he actually heard himself saying it, at least internally. 'It was just a joke; I didn't mean to touch your titties, I forgot you had them there so suddenly; I know that you're really a boy, but my body was just taking a moment to catch up with that knowledge; I know you're angry, but at least let me tell you they really... Actually felt very nice, and it's made me appreciate your abilities as a shinobi. This was a truly perfected technique.' None of them felt quite right though; they weren't giving him the muse of empathy for the horrible experience that Yamaru had had to go through in having Tetsu touch him. Wait, wait a minute. Having Tetsu touch him was a horrible experience? 'Man,' he lamented silently, 'Fuck that guy.'
Tetsu just looked at Yamaru, smugly waiting for a well thought-out and considerate apology. Tetsu kneeled up, his back straight, and folded his arms, looking down on the other boy. "You're welcome."
Before he could even think to bring himself back to his present emergency, absolutely kicking himself that he actually let himself forget how absolutely fucking important it was for him to sober up, as a group of... Unbelievably stunning girls ran in, their jiggling parts showing every ripple of the tiled floor as their feet sent shockwaves up their beautiful bodies. It was absolutely electrifying. He was barely able to hold onto focus, but like the veteran soldier he was, he resisted their wiles, avoiding their gaze as the Greek warrior might in preparing to fight the goddess Medusa.
Darkness and passion engulfed him. He was in some kind of fairytale-like prison of a million threads, trapped as he heard the muffled voices of the women who came in. Frozen. The world around him was disintegrating even further into the chaos mechanism that was suddenly unleashed upon it. What could he do? If he tried to escape, for all he knew, it would cause several rabbits to pop into existence within their locker rooms. The rules, as it goes, were off. Like an infant in this new existence, all he could do was hold still and hope for their comforting mother Gaia, goddess and protectorate of this world and the laws that governed it, to fight for it's reclamation and continued heritage. He wished, solemnly, that he could see the kitten underwear the girl Maru, outside somewhere, was talking about.
He spoke the words quietly, somberly, "In another life, perhaps."