[ it's not as though he doesn't understand the need for secrecy-- back when they're alive. after all, what they did back then required secrecy. a single slip could've jeopardized their mission, their calling, their lives, so secrecy made sense. years of sitting behind bars and clandestine midnight meetings, slinking before dawn so that the light of day could not touch them. but here, they're dead. their enemies are dead. only the dead surround them in a dead afterlife, so why would they need to hide away?
but you know that koutarou would never question it.
he may have reservations. he may be confused. he may have a seed of suspicion within his heart, almost disbelieving that any of this could even happen-- that this isn't a trial from hell, showing him what he could never swallow just to see if they could see him break. but despite everything, he would never question his other half, his better half, the half of him who leads and tugs him along, who saved him from the cliff that day and with whom he was finally able to stand before the fuuma clan as one of them. his loyalty is not so cheap, not so flimsy. without a word, he follows his other half. without hesitation, he steps in behind him, their footsteps passing without mark yet fitted so perfectly within each other.
behind them, the whispers of the wind mark their passing. ]
no subject
but you know that koutarou would never question it.
he may have reservations. he may be confused. he may have a seed of suspicion within his heart, almost disbelieving that any of this could even happen-- that this isn't a trial from hell, showing him what he could never swallow just to see if they could see him break. but despite everything, he would never question his other half, his better half, the half of him who leads and tugs him along, who saved him from the cliff that day and with whom he was finally able to stand before the fuuma clan as one of them. his loyalty is not so cheap, not so flimsy. without a word, he follows his other half. without hesitation, he steps in behind him, their footsteps passing without mark yet fitted so perfectly within each other.
behind them, the whispers of the wind mark their passing. ]