Kyohei didn't realize the truth all at once: it came upon him slowly, one small moment building upon the next. He liked Sunako. He had never really disliked her, but Sunako was dark, grim, and absolutely infuriating--nothing at all like the kind of girl Kyohei would have chosen for himself.
He had let his guard down with her, utterly certain of his own disinterest, and of hers. Other people had noticed--it had sometimes felt as if everyone was crazy, finding happily-ever-after in the awkward now--but Kyohei hadn't suffered a moment of doubt: Sunako, it's just Sunako.
And yet, here they were: both grim, and glowering, and made impossible for anyone else.
Sunako hissed, and skittered back into the shadows, blood splattering behind her.
Kyohei sighed, and debated the merits of being dead.