"...Why?"
It left no impact on Cut: the recognition of her desires, uttering of something so vile, both have just left his head pondering.
Tilted downwards, his gaze stared to the ground. She, in response, resumed smiling — corners still lingering with affection. Coyly, both her hands have been planted right behind her waist.
"I have a dream. Do you have any dreams, pe-haps?"
"...As in slumber?"
"As in goal." Ah. How patient now she grew, as per the knowledge of his lack of hesitation.
The warmth spread throughout her chest so madly, it could set her fragile form ablaze.
But no, it was not the time: to be taken by fire is, indeed, a sin of her own ethics she could not allow.
"...I must return my memories. Does it suit a dream?"
"Do you, truly? Pe-haps, you were a blank shell of a tiny snail; much more blank than you currently are."
"...I do. Otherwise, it's dangerous: without knowing what I am, I. . ." Cut stammered. Almost fell on his feet, but then? Kannon was more than glad to assist him; to lead him.
"You will struggle without an identity? Indeed! Wonda-ful, even! Without an identity, a person cannot have idea—"
"...I won't be able to survive."
…
Confusion. It emitted not from Cut, but Kannon herself. The neatly tucked behind her hand has fidgeted with another behind her, her blinking gaze permitting itself to view the man from many angles.
Dry. Yet refreshing.
Such was her gentle voice. Ah, or not so gentle?
Confusion has taken her out of it.
"How so? Indulge me, please."
"...If I won't have my memories, I'll be vulnerable; I won't have clear judgement or an ability to deduce." Calm. No deceit nor facade. For now, Cut was incapable of bringing himself to such ideas; such is his vulnerability.
Indeed, there was no need for great insight.
Such was Cut's only reason to return his memories.
Survival.
"Huh. . ."
"...For example, I've fallen for your trickery several times due to the lack of them—" Pause. His jaw calmly thrusted towards the fresh corpse. "—due to the lack of them, I am unsure whether I am in danger upon slaying this man… Do you understand, Kannon? Due to the lack of them, my only knowledge of whether I can fight is that I've slain him."
She nodded. An instinctive move performed by her slim neck; she understood, indeed.
Such is a blank form smithed by the sword.
Usually, no blade smiths their wielder; they are tools, not anyhow handsome or beautiful in their purpose.
The creature who wields their weapon decides whether it is to be used in wonder or not.
But then;
This blade is the one to decide whether one is evil.
Ah. It is true.
To a regular man, Cut was without a doubt evil.
To Kannon… lovable.
She concluded, and lightly reached out with her hand — the one that held no lamp. A saint offering of a bond.
Again: the voice is gentle. Motherly.
"Mh… You wish to survive?"
"...I do."
"Be led by me, then, Cut." She mumbled, in quietness that befit the night, "You'll survive."
"...Will I, truly?" Voice so skeptic. Albeit, Cut's lobe still obviously knew.
"Do you have any other choice, Cut?"
"...I don't." And such a conclusion emerged as fast as her response.
Cut could not quite murder her, as he did with the man.
Such is the realization.
Again, the idea of inefficient energy loss; again, the idea…
Again? It has appeared just now! Although, the repugnance it brought to Cut has repeated itself.
If Cut were to slay Kannon, no person would lead him.
Such is his powerlessness.
He barely cared for her dream, though.
The only need was survival. Survival, a concept clean and pure; the tarnishment barely reached it, as you can muster with all your strength that it was, indeed, to survive.
…
At last, Cut did not hesitate long enough for her offer to be turned down. As if enough courage or foolishness was present in this maiden, to retract her palm; to, as she smiles, forsake such a wonderful blank.
Their hands have clasped together, warmth fusing.
And gave birth to a silent oath.
A magnificent oath,
Beautiful and handsome alike, as she celebrated;
As he, Cut, knew the lack of present choices.
…
Time passed,
The sun began to peek from the corner of distant, creamy mountains.
Cut saw no beauty in them, frankly, but Kannon did not forget to nag him continuously about the beauty of the view, rather 'forgetting' to entrust him the details of her dream as they walked in search of a shelter — neither had slept the entire night.
But how could Cut's soul resonate with views, truly?
Now as light was available much more freely, the sheer grunginess of this primitive village has given him a sort of distant feeling; shared with overflowing, bustling streets of differently dressed 'clowns' that still, somehow, have paid attention to him with lurking glances.
Some, of hatred; some, of admiration; some, of neutral curiosity.
But well, to put his impression more simply,
It did not align to his tastes.
Did he truly reside here, in all of the… Ah.
He couldn't make such a judgement. Be damned his vulnerability. Glancing at Kannon, who was
"...Cannon"
"A—? No." Of the repetition of what has already happened, Cut's eyes narrow dangerously.
"...Kannon."
"Ay?" Tired. Exhausted. As they spoke, her hands lightly brushed the lids of her eyes.
"...May I know, then, who must be slain?"
"Currently? Mh-h… No one."
"...And if we are to be less vague?"
"Pe-haps I could…" She yawned. It suspiciously greatly tingled his nerves; his eye almost twitched. "To begin with, murder during day-time is a great 'Nuh-uh'."
A quick fleeting nod. "...Right. Much appreciated. And then?"
A stop. A full one, at that: several people have mumbled something vicious and some rare ones something perverse, as Kannon's completely stopped in her tracks amidst a moving crowd.
"Do you truly believe I would ask you to murder for the sake of a tiny grudge?" Her voice grew serious, exhaustion be damned. Cut's mind, in exchange — confused.
Pretending to understand the idea of grudges, be they great or not, Cut shook his head in a quick, single 'Nay'.
Before brushing against several strangers with slim shoulders, she turned.
A single slim finger, lacking a painted nail, was shot to the sky; energy suddenly bursting among the lines of her face
"Cut, believe me: the murder I ask you to perform is not anything ordinary!"
"...Right."
And stepped forward;
Forward, before on the tips of her feet moved her face dangerously close to his.
With letting the thought be audated in a whisper.
"Re–vo—lu—ti—on… The apparition that the government is, amidst our kingly republic, is to be slain!"