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Summary
He had come out of Wild Card imposing solitude on himself. There was no room in his life for affection. There shouldn't have been. It was all like that, already written. He had to keep them away.
So that subtle, desperately hidden sympathy was a disgrace.
He had been so focused on making himself hated that he had ended up convincing himself that it had to be that way, no more and no less.
He shouldn't have given him that extra word, that moment of attention. He was ashamed of doing so, and equally ashamed of the small, semi-unconscious, dream that sometimes suggested to him that there would be no harm in letting him get close.
Then came Michael Kaiser’s weird attentions. Kaiser was a complicated creature, almost unreadable, even his rage tantrums were hermetic. Yet, since the first time he had seen Chigiri, he had been so candidly explicit about finding him attractive. He would throw a comment here and there, just to let people know he would totally fuck him if given the chance.
Kunigami hated it.