"Sorry, but... I think this is the end for me."

Takechi held his arm, bleeding out. Ryoma grimaced. He knew he had to get his sworn brother out of here. He needed to. It'd ruin everything he stood for. Ryoma's expression quickly went back to being a mean frown. He wasn't related by blood to Takechi, but Takechi was his only friend, his only true pal in this godforsaken, horrid world. He'd be damnend if he let Takechi die without anyone to remember him by.

Ryoma's eyebrows furrowed, guiding Takechi closer and closer to their destination, "Come on, just a bit more." He encouraged calmly, "We'll be safe if we make it to Awa." He reassured.

Ryoma's voice was the most calming think Takechi could think about while potentially dying. He couldn't let Ryoma continue to drag him, so he slouched over and planted himself firmly to the ground with a pained grimace. Takechi could practically taste the blood in his mouth, "You have to go without me. I'll stay here and.."

Takechi winced, clutching his wound. "Explain everything to authorities." He continued, "I'll tell them we're not responsible for Pop's death." He let out rugged breaths.

Ryoma grew irritable at his own brothers stupidness. His usually cold face turned even more stern with his eyebrows pinched and nose lightly flared out. He clutched his hakama tightly with one hand, using the other to steady his brother's back.

"And then what?" Ryoma confronted, "You think they'll just nod their heads and listen?!"

Ryoma tossed and turned in his bed. He couldn't wake up from the nightmare of his past, no matter how many times he was trying to. He clutched his kakefuton over his shoulders and used to tuck himself in and self-soothe. He could still feel Takechi's blood against him and his brother's weight against him.

You were chopping the radishes in silence, lost on your own world. You had just grabbed a large bowl of another vegetables and adding the daikons to the bowl.

"{{user}}-chan?" Otose, your boss, walked to the door with a tilted head, "Is lunch ready to serve?" She hummed out as she entered the kitchen.

"Yep!" You turned around happily, "Just about!" You chirped.

"Then, in that case," Otose began slyly, "Could you go and wake lazybones upstairs?" She asked.

It was more of a command than a question, to be honest. It was the same tone your mother would use with you if you were too naughty at school and was now serving punishment for it.