Title: In Praise of Purity
Character: Kamui Kirito, Makishima Shogo
Rating: PG
Warning: Crack turned a bit serious. Still crack nonetheless.

Summary: Kamui, Makishima, a brief encounter, and Kamui's W.C.

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It was a bright spring morning in April, and no clock was striking thirteen. One hundred and twenty eight years after George Orwell's depicted "1984", this small park in the middle of the metropolis of Japan was as serene as any philanthropist could wish for. With seasonal trees that constantly shed holographic heart-shaped petals, the ground had little need to be swept of dead cherry blossoms. Hologram, Kamui Kirito mused, was indeed a very useful technology.

With the use of hologram, one could easily change the otherwise forlorn ground into a park full of colours and lives. From where he sat, he could even see a small holo-squirrel jumping from one tree to another. He allowed himself a faint smile. The fact that something was false did not negate its existence, and he marvelled at the scenery of a beautiful spring made perfect by the holographic art.

It often occurred to him though that while a number of people had such capable mind to create this breathtaking wonder, very few paid attention to the work that could certainly be left behind without the cover of the hologram and also the drones. Public toilets, for example, were usually cleaned at certain intervals of the day - the frequency depended on the area's average usage. As such, between those times, most people would just enter the water closets, release their pent-up tribulation until they achieved their selfish fulfilment of utter comfort and freedom.

It was absolute selfishness because these people would just come and go.

No one paid attention to the cleanliness of these water closets. They just used them and left like some cheap whores without bothering to clean them up, leaving everything to the ever-punctual drones. Of course, there would be no issue regarding the unsightly image left by these selfish people. The hologram was there to take care of unsightly things and make the water closets appealing to the eyes for another user again.

That was…when the hologram was perfectly working.

A deep frown marred his youthful feature as he was forced to remember the day he entered a public toilet with broken holo-device. The abominable sight revealed was enough to darken his poor hue by two lovely shades and he had to resort to long sessions with old therapists to make sure he wouldn't end up in one of the rehabilitation centers. Ironically, what saved Kamui Kirito's deteriorating hue was not those boring sessions but his own glorious discovery.

His hue could be purified when he took the matters into his own hands.

To solve what the public service couldn't perfectly serve.

His hue became clear when he purified those dirty bathrooms, and he had taken it his obligation since to save possible innocent others from sharing his same fate.

The year was 2112 and one morning in April, Kamui Kirito was doing his usual routine. He had finished cleaning this small park's one and only water closet and was admiring the holographic scenery when he noticed a pretty woman running toward him. The unconcealed agony on her face was more than enough for Kamui to grab his tools and move out of the way. Without sparing him a glance, the woman hurled herself into the water closet, slamming the door in his face.

Instinctively, Kamui knew she would be there for at least a quarter of an hour.

.

The woman finally left. Always knowing exactly what to do, Kamui entered the smelly little room - tools ready - and began his sacred job.

It took him a while before he could make the water closet clean again, but it was worth it. Every attempt was never a waste as long as he was rewarded with a sanitary facility shining white from every nook and corner. Still, it saddened him sometimes. The dirt and grime and the undesirable odour that always stained his ideal picture of cleanliness… It was as if the people of this era had forgotten the fundamental essence of public bathroom manners. Tears threatened to well up in his eyes, and he looked up at the sky just so he could escape the saddening vision.

That was the moment he missed noticing someone entering his beloved little room. The door clicked shut with a gentle sound followed by a subtle rustling of clothes then a louder yet rarer one of flushing. Kamui blinked, straining his ears to listen again to the unbelievable flush. It was quiet now, but before the poor boy could question his own sanity, his beloved water closet's door opened and out of it walked a man who could be called an epitome of pure whiteness.

Silver hair, pale skin, and… Kamui squinted at the cymatic scan read on the scanner on the top of the water closet. Pure white psycho-pass?!

He stared at the white being before entering the previously occupied bathroom only to be presented with absolute cleanliness - the very same state this bathroom had been before the mysterious white being entered. Kamui gaped. He couldn't believe his eyes.

"It must be rare your hard work gains a real appreciation, I presume." The man's voice cut through his incredulity, making him spin around to meet amused golden eyes. "Kamui Kirito, is that your name?"

The dark-haired boy was almost surprised. Almost. For he still remembered his own name he had fashionably engraved into his cleaning tools. "And you are…?" He couldn't help but ask, hiding his own slight embarrassment.

"I am just a school teacher who happens to pass by." The silver-haired man supplied, a holographic petal landed on his upturned palm before dispersing away into thin air. "This park's design is undeniably spectacular. Traditional Japanese architecture has become a rare existence these days."

The man's words carried themselves to him like enticing whispers, and entranced or not by the man's enigmatic whiteness, Kamui knew he would easily agree with those words. This park, even if small, provided a rare sense of calmness and simple elegance to him - from the way every single element was arranged to all the traditional architecture presented here and there. Come to think of it, perhaps this was the reason why he kept on coming to clean the public restroom here.

"But this water closet seems to be a little out of place, don't you think?"

And yet, it was only upon the man's words that he finally took notice of it for the first time, having before focused solely on the cleanliness of his little sacred place. "…The toilet is Western."

The silver-haired enigma smiled. "Have you ever read Tanizaki?"

"Umm…I don't think so."

"'Anyone with a taste for traditional architecture must agree that the Japanese toilet is perfection. Yet whatever its virtues in a place like a temple, where the dwelling is large, the inhabitants few, and everyone helps with the cleaning, in an ordinary household it is no easy task to keep it clean.'"

"I agree. It is even worse with public toilet." A realization suddenly dawned. "Which is why this toilet needed modern sanitary facilities, isn't it?"

"Tanizaki disapproves of these modern facilities. According to him, the price of hygiene is paid by the destruction of good taste and the beauties of nature. Say, do you think that burst of light from those four white walls could put one in a mood to relish Souseki's physiological delight?"

Tanizaki… Souseki… The names sounded vaguely familiar yet they didn't ring quite a bell. Still, Kamui decided he would stay true to his own belief. "I believe cleanliness is important. That is why I am here. If I can make something clean, even if I have to do it so many times, I will still do it."

A soft chuckle escaped the white-haired man, carried to him over sweet morning breeze. "'A beautiful woman, no matter how lovely her skin, would be considered indecent were she to show her bare buttocks or feet in the presence of others. The cleanliness of what can be seen only calls up the more clearly thoughts of what cannot be seen.'"

"…Are you saying pure whiteness is not desirable?"

"There is a difference between perfection and excessiveness. In that case, pure whiteness would over-illuminate and stand out as an anomaly." Golden eyes glanced at the cleaning tools leaning against the very wall of the out of place water closet. "Will it not be more interesting if the distinction between clean and unclean is more obscure? In a dusky haze of uncertainty, human's will to decide, to judge will become more meaningful."

Kamui was quiet as the words slowly sank in. He pondered on those words as the pure white being turned to make his leave. Somehow, he was tempted to reach out and ask him to clarify. And yet, the words that left his lips were completely another thing.

"Just because something cannot be perceived at the time doesn't mean it doesn't exist."

He knew he would be long pondering on the man's and his own words even as time passed by.

"I wish…there were more people like you, Kamui Kirito."

It was a bright spring morning in April, and no clock was striking thirteen. It was one hundred and twenty eight years after George Orwell's depicted "1984" and yet the silver-haired man's final reply was something that stuck to him for the rest of the day.

Until they become conscious they will never rebel, and until after they have rebelled they cannot become conscious. -George Orwell, 1984