As Kido watched the trees, Kano watched the reflections on the water. There was a light wind tonight, stirring the otherwise smooth surface with ripples, distorting the world wavering upon its surface. His eyes, however, weren't focused on his reflection. Behind his mask his red gaze fixed on Kido's image, watching it dance. He hadn't thought that she'd take the bet seriously and dress up. But she took his joke earnestly and donned a kimono for him. Even though he'd been the one to bring up the idea, he finds that he can't look at her directly.
--no, not can't. He won't let himself. He's afraid to, least he falls deeper into the hole he failed to see. There's already been so many missteps, each one leading him down to the answer he's tried to avoid. If he admires her brightness, he doesn't think he can close his eyes to it anymore.
Because of that, his eyes stayed on her reflection. When she asked her question, he looked up with his mask, not his face.
"I don't understand the question." It sounded like a cheerful response, layered with just the right amount of cockiness to disguise it a tease. But he understood.
When she posed the question to him on the night of his birthday Kano already had an answer lodged in his throat. It wouldn't leave because of his cowardice, so he painfully swallowed and tried to hide the fact that he was choking with his usual flashy lies. Even now, after he swore that he would beat his chest and clear his throat of deception, the truth was still stuck.
They've always been together after their eyes had been dyed in red. It was a natural state, as common as birds nesting in trees or fish swimming in a river. He'd been drawn to help her, like a moth to a flame, and still held her hand tightly even as she lashed out at him. He never gave the reasoning much thought--it'd simply been a natural thing to do. It felt right to be by her side. So he stayed.
Which was why it hurt so much when she was torn away. He lost a friend. He lost a member of his family. He lost Kido, and their promise, and the unnaturalness of being alone clamped down on him, booting him into a lost state. Nobody else in their family had been here--she'd been the only one to come, and remembering how he couldn't save his mother or his sister--
Ah. He was a helpless son, a useless brother and a terrible friend in the end. It made him smile. He'd be even more worthless as a partner. A snake like him could protect her decently. But by the same token he knew how he coiled around her hurt her. Despite the night they spent together in that closet, how he had let his mask crack in front of her... if it came down to what was best for both of them...
"I think Kido makes a good leader. That's what you're asking about, right?"
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--no, not can't. He won't let himself. He's afraid to, least he falls deeper into the hole he failed to see. There's already been so many missteps, each one leading him down to the answer he's tried to avoid. If he admires her brightness, he doesn't think he can close his eyes to it anymore.
Because of that, his eyes stayed on her reflection. When she asked her question, he looked up with his mask, not his face.
"I don't understand the question." It sounded like a cheerful response, layered with just the right amount of cockiness to disguise it a tease. But he understood.
When she posed the question to him on the night of his birthday Kano already had an answer lodged in his throat. It wouldn't leave because of his cowardice, so he painfully swallowed and tried to hide the fact that he was choking with his usual flashy lies. Even now, after he swore that he would beat his chest and clear his throat of deception, the truth was still stuck.
They've always been together after their eyes had been dyed in red. It was a natural state, as common as birds nesting in trees or fish swimming in a river. He'd been drawn to help her, like a moth to a flame, and still held her hand tightly even as she lashed out at him. He never gave the reasoning much thought--it'd simply been a natural thing to do. It felt right to be by her side. So he stayed.
Which was why it hurt so much when she was torn away. He lost a friend. He lost a member of his family. He lost Kido, and their promise, and the unnaturalness of being alone clamped down on him, booting him into a lost state. Nobody else in their family had been here--she'd been the only one to come, and remembering how he couldn't save his mother or his sister--
Ah. He was a helpless son, a useless brother and a terrible friend in the end. It made him smile. He'd be even more worthless as a partner. A snake like him could protect her decently. But by the same token he knew how he coiled around her hurt her. Despite the night they spent together in that closet, how he had let his mask crack in front of her... if it came down to what was best for both of them...
"I think Kido makes a good leader. That's what you're asking about, right?"