«M-Miori…?» Aoshi stammers, his voice trembling with fear and disbelief.
Miori stands on the doorstep, breathtaking as ever. She's wearing a long, elegant dress the color of pink frosting that flows down to her ankles, and her hair—usually tied in a ponytail—is now loose, held back by a jeweled headband. Like this, she looks just like a fairy-tale princess.
«Good evening, Aoshi,» she begins, her voice sweet as honey—a stark contrast to the last words she'd spoken to him, leaving him visibly unsettled.
«G-Good evening, Miori…» he mutters, unable to meet her eyes.
What the hell does she want from me now? Did she come to mock me for what Renji did? He already wrecked me physically, and now she's here to finish me off emotionally? Knowing her, that wouldn't surprise me in the least. And to think I actually had feelings for her once — God, how pathetic.
«If you came here just to make fun of me, then say whatever you need to say and get out,» Aoshi hisses through clenched teeth.
