Who: Yosuke Hanamura and Shijima. Where: Shijima's residence. When: After this post; so before Shimazu's. Summary: Returning a favor. Rating: PG-13. Other: Shijima's hardcore, yo.
Shijima was on the floor, lying on her back with her legs propped up against her bed. Her hands were stretched up above her, holding a retractable knife, the blade fully out. She'd been looking at it since she'd finished her conversation online. The blade gleams in the light and Shijima just stares at it.
What would it be like, she thought, to die with this? To kill with this? Would the blade break? When would it break? Inside the flesh, or before it could even kill? She began analyzing things, maybe over analyzing things. Her thoughts are interrupted by a pounding on the door. Someone was calling her name. Yosuke had come.
Shijima turns her head to watch the door for a moment before getting up to answer the door. She passes the curtain that separated her bedroom from the rest of the place and came to the door, knife still in hand. Opening it, she gives him a bright smile and a standard greeting. "Hello, Yosuke," she says. Ah, but maybe she should have greeted with the knife...
The first response was to take a hesitant step backward. His gaze flickered to the knife that she held in her hand as his lips pressed together in a moment of concern. It was only a few seconds later did he realize that he would be all right, because of what Shika had done to him -- his somewhat immortality, or rather the ability to quickly heal from any injury. He might actually be the safest person to deal with Shijima right now. Still would hurt like a bitch if she decided to
( ... )
Shijima's smile grew a little. She knew where his gaze had dropped to, why he looked surprised. She might have laughed softly at that. Might have. The temptation to just slash at him was so great. The blade was still out and the distance was nothing. If she wanted to literally take a stab at him, she could. She was fast. Probably faster. Would he die slowly? Or would the shock of being stabbed finish him quick? Ah, Shijima would love to find out--
"No worries," she said, stepping aside to Yosuke in. "Humans are allowed to let imagination run free, after all. No matter where it takes our thoughts."
As soon as she closed the door behind Yosuke, she started playing with the retractable blade in her hand, throwing it up in the air and catching it by the handle-- every time. She watched him like a cat would watch a small bird that was about to be its next meal. "You must have been very worried to come all the way here, alone, where I could very well dispose of you if I wished to. I have been thinking it, you know." Her visage was calm,
( ... )
"Don't say things like that." Yosuke wasn't sure about which thing he was saying -- don't talk about humans like she wasn't one. Another glance off to the side as he really wasn't sure he liked where this conversation was going. Fatal attraction type movie but he didn't think that she liked him in that manner so he probably could just end it with 'fatal.' Deep breath and let it out
( ... )
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What would it be like, she thought, to die with this? To kill with this? Would the blade break? When would it break? Inside the flesh, or before it could even kill? She began analyzing things, maybe over analyzing things. Her thoughts are interrupted by a pounding on the door. Someone was calling her name. Yosuke had come.
Shijima turns her head to watch the door for a moment before getting up to answer the door. She passes the curtain that separated her bedroom from the rest of the place and came to the door, knife still in hand. Opening it, she gives him a bright smile and a standard greeting. "Hello, Yosuke," she says. Ah, but maybe she should have greeted with the knife...
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"No worries," she said, stepping aside to Yosuke in. "Humans are allowed to let imagination run free, after all. No matter where it takes our thoughts."
As soon as she closed the door behind Yosuke, she started playing with the retractable blade in her hand, throwing it up in the air and catching it by the handle-- every time. She watched him like a cat would watch a small bird that was about to be its next meal. "You must have been very worried to come all the way here, alone, where I could very well dispose of you if I wished to. I have been thinking it, you know." Her visage was calm, ( ... )
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