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Summary
“I said I’d let him go.” Yuusaku made him swear it, his hands tight on Ogata’s arms and his cheeks still earnestly wet.
Usami’s eyes roll in their sockets. The whites flash up at him in the darkness. “So?”
“So.” Ogata bends and picks up his bayonet. Yuusaku knocked it from his grip earlier- or perhaps Ogata had just let it fall. The blade is smeared with mud, dulling the shine of the steel. He considers it for a second, then flips the bayonet in his hand and tilts the handle towards Usami. “Go ahead. Let him go.”