[Asshole he may be, but it's not in his nature to ignore someone crying in front of him. Not someone who might tentatively be called a friend, or at least someone he doesn't want to cry. So he reaches out to wipe away a tear.
His hand doesn't reach. He shifts too much - there's a sting of pain as the spear digs further inside him, worse than the dull constant pain he'd already been experiencing. He opens his mouth and can't speak.
If there is anything merciful about this, it's the actual process of death is quick. It starts from the bottom - flesh and bone turning into nothing but the ink it was made of - and quickly reaches the head. Within the span of a few seconds, the existence called 'Shuji Tsushima' is no longer there.
There's just a spear that clattered to the ground in the middle of a puddle of ink.]
no subject
[Asshole he may be, but it's not in his nature to ignore someone crying in front of him. Not someone who might tentatively be called a friend, or at least someone he doesn't want to cry. So he reaches out to wipe away a tear.
His hand doesn't reach. He shifts too much - there's a sting of pain as the spear digs further inside him, worse than the dull constant pain he'd already been experiencing. He opens his mouth and can't speak.
If there is anything merciful about this, it's the actual process of death is quick. It starts from the bottom - flesh and bone turning into nothing but the ink it was made of - and quickly reaches the head. Within the span of a few seconds, the existence called 'Shuji Tsushima' is no longer there.
There's just a spear that clattered to the ground in the middle of a puddle of ink.]