[ Beside Kazuma, Susato can feel the temperature drop with his desperation. There is a quiet moan that escapes her lips, and she tries to close her eyes tighter in protest. The heavy weight of rejection suffocates her, replacing all the hope for the future with which the dream began, and she starts to shiver. She is shaking her head, sharing in that same desperation--
Until finally, she is met with an arm to the face that makes her stop. Her breathing, which had been quick and erratic, slows to something normal and she slowly opens her eyes, reaching for whatever had hit her automatically. It settles upon Kazuma's wrist, gripping firmly for a couple seconds before she loses that strength.
It's still dark. Maybe in that brief moment of her consciousness creeping back to her, she doesn't remember what she saw at all, but she can already tell it will come back to her in bits and pieces--starting with the faint dripping of blood. The scent of iron.
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Until finally, she is met with an arm to the face that makes her stop. Her breathing, which had been quick and erratic, slows to something normal and she slowly opens her eyes, reaching for whatever had hit her automatically. It settles upon Kazuma's wrist, gripping firmly for a couple seconds before she loses that strength.
It's still dark. Maybe in that brief moment of her consciousness creeping back to her, she doesn't remember what she saw at all, but she can already tell it will come back to her in bits and pieces--starting with the faint dripping of blood. The scent of iron.
A familiar samurai's ponytail. ]
Kazuma...?