Right. Right. Kibitoshin almost had this one cracked. The shiny white porcelain and tiles were just the physical symptoms of the barriers confining him to his own humiliation. The true barriers were metaphysical, inside his own mind, and it was there that the battle for his own dignity would take place. He was in control. He could fight the shame. No amount of bored-looking soldiers standing by or other patients undressing or forgetting to take off his boots would defeat him. He was like water, without fear or hesitation and constantly changing with the situation and shape of the world. He was a god.

He also had no idea what any of that really meant, but it sounded good.

Kibitoshin struggled out of his uniform, curled in on himself like a damp leaf; leaning forward like this his hair fell forward and almost acted as a shield, blocking his view. Right. Better idea. Less complex.

If you can't see me, I can't see you. I really don't want to see you.

Keeping his head down, he shuffled awkwardly towards the stalls- making eye-contact would be the real killer here. The last thing he wanted was to end up talking to someone scary like Tenzen again. No, it was better to focus on, um- the floor. Yes. The floor was damp and warm under his bare feet. It was white. Um. It was kind of smooth, maybe, though it could also be rough.

... oh, galaxies, he needed to get into a cubicle! With a sudden spurt of bravery, Kibitoshin made a dash for the stall-- and promptly slipped, feet giving way so suddenly he didn't even have time to flail out for the sides in some vague hope they'd keep him vertical. Who knew tiles hurt so much, anyway?

As if to add insult to injury, the shower switched on barely a second later. Cold water, of course. And this time he couldn't keep himself from yelping like a startled puppy. Just his luck!