[It's all at once familiar and foreign. Takasugi has been present at many an execution, though Edo's typically were carried out with the swing of a sword rather than the machinations of a gallows.
That minuscule difference keeps him grounded among the jeering crowd.
Though it's not hard to imagine himself drawing his own blade, cutting his way to the scaffolding and-
He doesn't know the man sentenced to death, so his whim ends there.
Among the crowd, it's an easy gamble to guess who the memory belongs to. One man, standing near him, seems unconcerned with the entire ordeal. Takasugi looks to him, a sidelong glance that remains half-focused on the stage.] What are his crimes?
b | forgetting
That minuscule difference keeps him grounded among the jeering crowd.
Though it's not hard to imagine himself drawing his own blade, cutting his way to the scaffolding and-
He doesn't know the man sentenced to death, so his whim ends there.
Among the crowd, it's an easy gamble to guess who the memory belongs to. One man, standing near him, seems unconcerned with the entire ordeal. Takasugi looks to him, a sidelong glance that remains half-focused on the stage.] What are his crimes?