[ Cain turns when Mikazuki freezes, following his gaze. It's a wary sort of stillness, preternatural, the kind that Cain's learned all too well from the battlefield, the kind that shouldn't be ignored.
It makes it easy, finally, to look away from that childhood home, to turn his back on it — Mikazuki is here, alive, the present rather than the past. He won't abandon someone right in front of him, not even for the memory of his brother.
He asks, quietly, his hand drifting to the hilt of his sword: ]
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It makes it easy, finally, to look away from that childhood home, to turn his back on it — Mikazuki is here, alive, the present rather than the past. He won't abandon someone right in front of him, not even for the memory of his brother.
He asks, quietly, his hand drifting to the hilt of his sword: ]
What is it?