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Summary
Fire.
Blazing heat rains down from above.
She’s surrounded by flames.
She falls.
A star streaking down from the heavens.
Burned up by the atmosphere, nothing but a certain and inevitable end. Like a shooting star, there is a wish hung on her demise.
Live.
A wish for life.
One that begins with death.
The same dream haunts her in the dark. Visions of her descent, her final moments, of another life perhaps. Her own death.
"Nightmare, darling?" A leather gloved hand carefully brushes a few strands of hair out of her face, pulling her from the throes of darkness, from the inferno that engulfs her.
Kafka.
Why is she here? Himeko pushes her away. This is not how she wants Kafka to see her. Whenever Kafka shows up, they fuck, and Himeko is not in the mood for that tonight. Some part of her wants more than that. But she knows that's not possible, after all, who would want someone who sees her own death whenever she closes her eyes?
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The three times that Himeko has a nightmare and Kafka is there to wake her with milk for her coffee, and the one time that she isn't.