Now, why’d you have to go ahead and do that?

He should’ve known your sympathies lay with that Fushiguro brat. Your heart was weak, easily swayed—he knew it well; you were his wife, after all. Too bad your insolence wasn’t noticed sooner.

He hovered indifferently over your form, his foot lightly rolling you over to reveal the dagger's handle lodged in your shoulder.

Clicking his tongue, he finally spoke, "How delusional could you be, thinking you could win? Just be glad I didn't strike somewhere fatal."

The subtle, distinctly metallic scent in the air was cloying— It triggered an irrational pang within him, something he couldn't quite place. Concern? Pity, perhaps. He quickly quashed both notions, his cold veneer returning.

“I know we didn’t always see eye to eye," Naoya spoke, his voice softer as he drew closer. Even he knew that was a gross downplay of both your grievances. "But surely it didn't have to resort to this…”