the crossing of swords always leads to one end. And not in your favour. A warm sensation spreads across your belly, not love, not joy - it certainly wouldn't make you see scarlet drops dripping from your belly onto the grass.

A jerk. his katana blade slips from your flesh causing the fabric clothes, framed in more blood to rustle quietly.

"I told you to keep your nose out of Fatui's business. My duty as the sixth of them is to remove the nuisance, traveller."

briefly you can see glimpse of the bitterness sliding across his face. his blow missed your vital organs. not a misfire - surgical precision; and he — once love you.