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This guy was really asking for it.

The anger that Kurogane constantly kept inside of his body, taut, like a chain wrapped around a struggling dragon, began to jerk and convulse; the tell-tale sign that he was about to rip a douchebag a new one. His bokken's hilt, leathered and glinting, suddenly appeared leaning outside of his bag, and Kurogane gripped it until his knuckles popped. In a flash, it was slicing through the air, an audible 'whistle' hissing from the pure power that the drawing of the wooden blade merited. He completely disregarded the boy's words, instead, moving forward in deliberate, slow steps, eyes shadowed by his hair as he got ready to throw the boy off the roof, leap down, and finish him off there; even he didn't want his sister to see what was about to happen to [i]trash[/i]...The last word was murmured audibly, Kurogane not even noticing.

In a blur, he was in front of the boy, bokken pressed against the boy's forehead...and then his stomach grumbled. Inspite of himself - despite the fiery crimson aura raging about his form, Kurogane's cheeks reddened slightly, and his scowl turned down-right murderous. With a dismissive snort, he abruptly turned around, a lock of crimson hair slapping against Aki's cheek with an audible 'SWAP' that would certainly leave a red mark for a while. Sitting down beside his sister, Kurogane sighed and leaned back, tension leaving his form as he grabbed an apple slice and tossed it into his mouth.

Obviously, his hunger was more important, and the trash, Aki, was no longer in his brain. The boy was nothing more than garbage to the cold young man now.