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Black Clouds

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Dear Kaoru,

I met that client today. The one you told me about. Not gonna lie, I almost punched her in her stupid face. She was so self-absorbed, she didn’t even look at me more than three times, and she actually called me Kaoru repeatedly. If she doesn’t shut up, I’m going to drop her and let security deal with her whining. She was all “oh, I don’t want to look fat, do you think I’ll look fat?” and “this looks like something you’d see from Koizumi”―um excuse me we can top those organza clouds any day, thank you very much―“I want HIGH fashion, mister Hitachiin,” and she legitimately slurred on our name and I think she was tipsy and oh my god, I want to strangle the bitch.

Were we like that once? So absorbed in ourselves, in our pride, that we actually said shit like this?

Don’t answer that. I already know that the answer is yes.

Well, at least we changed. Or you did, at least. I still don’t know if I’ve actually changed or if I’m just lying to myself and saying that I have.

Time to get back to work. I love you, little brother. If I go to jail for killing this little bitch, let’s auction off all of my old designs from high school, the really shitty but oddly okay ones, and use that to pay the bail. Or we could maybe pull a Chicago, make it look like I’m not completely in the wrong and get the jury to call me not-guilty by pure bullshit.

Love,
Hika

P.S. Yes, I know that I’m hopeless Broadway trash and love almost all musicals, but Chicago is a damn good show and you cannot convince me otherwise.