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Summary
Kazuha was someone you rarely spoke to, feeling unfit to even be in his presence with your line of work. Taking on jobs for The Crux to pay off your debts had led to conversations with the lone samurai, all initiated by him, but each word felt unearned when every Fatui beating robbed you of your self-worth as the days went by.
He didn’t feel like a criminal, wasn’t born a commoner; still, that was the crowd he surrounded himself with as he wallowed about with people like you.
He was someone, and that alone was something you hadn’t attained for yourself, intermingling envy with admiration, and yet he found equal footing in the pattern of blood. Opportunity arises when you bleed together, your blood becomes as noble as his, his as ordinary as yours.