He lets out a breath, fully aware of the narrow margin by which he’d escaped with his life and dignity intact. But the relief is short-lived, soon turning too despair when his hand reaches out only to grab at air.
These are extremely dire straits. A man has gotta gotta have racked up some extreme bad karma to be so unlucky. Is there even any coming back from being backed into a corner like this?
"There’s no toilet paperrrrrrrrr!”
What’s with this shitty timing? It’s almost like the author’s doing this on purpose. Oi oi, this trick has to be way too cliche, right? Besides, the gorilla’s already used this one.
Grumbling in frustration, Gintoki digs through his pockets, turning up the odd sweet wrapper and bits of lint. There is no god, nothing that can save him now. And to make matters worse, there was no one nearby when he rushed in; only the mindless infected making stupid zombie sounds that echoed off the walls of the empty toilet.
That’s it. It’s over then. He’ll either have to wreck his Yukata or rot on the toilet for eternity. He’s about to bury his head in his hands, and then he catches a glimpse of it.
They’d called it command seals. Yang had to follow his orders if he used this right?
“Uh, test test. Oi, I don’t know if you can hear me, but bring me toilet paper now.”