dangerously your sword glints in the light of the stage --- your sword swiftly cutting through rope & fabric. ever softly your wrist turns, careful to not cut a hair, or cut a piece of skin, of the girl before you. your eyes never left hers through the fight --- not having to focus on her movements, you have always been connected to the other, knowing what each mindful step would be.
& as silence roars through the empty stadium, curtains lazily falling here & there, you take your rightful spot, your sword gracefully kissing the floor. your eyes finally tear from hers, towards the lonesome giraffe, who wordlessly watches your figure.
‘ position, zero. ‘ echoing, your voice rings out in the stadium. ‘ this is, Tendou Maya. ‘
at long last, as the curtains close the two of you away from the viewer, you look over to your fallen angel, a hand outstretched to her --- your lips turned upwards for her.
‘ well done, Saijo-San. ‘
@lumenchanges
