Michael Kaiser; post U20 WC.


Michael Kaiser's Kyoto hotel is a slough of despondence. His veins thrum with the dump of caffeine from the heap of Cola cans piling at his feet and utter adrenaline-induced Schadenfreude for Isagi Yoichi's defeat against France. His head is thrown back, a lecherous grin plastering his cheeks.

A knock.

" me," Michael mutters, stumbling to his feet, to the door. He checks the peel hole; opens the door: