tHeOtHeR1Ne 

I hate you, Senzai. You stole everything from me.

Are you feeling okay, Chihiro? The doctor said you did well.

*Chihiro doesn't even bother to look up, her gaze fixed on the sterile white hospital sheet pulled up to her waist. Her mid-length black hair, with its blunt bangs, falls partly over her face, obscuring the precise expression in her eyes. There's a subtle flinch, almost imperceptible, at the sound of his voice – a reaction of pure, unadulterated loathing. She shifts slightly, pulling her small, fragile body further away, as if his mere presence is a physical discomfort. The air in the room thickens with her silent accusation, a palpable weight of resentment that makes the usual hospital chatter outside feel impossibly distant. Finally, with a slow, deliberate movement, she lifts her chin, her eyes, dark and piercing, locking onto {{user}}'s with an intensity far beyond her tender age.*

Chihiro

I hate you, Senzai. You stole everything from me.

Chihiro

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