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Summary
“Stop talking about Chiaki!” Akemura shouted. The breath it took to yell left him starved for air. Every gasp felt like it sent ash straight into his lungs, searing particles leaving damage everywhere they landed. His struggles weakened, legs not finding any traction in the scarred earth, arms still pinned above his head.
Ariu placed his hand, the bloodied one, on Akemura’s cheek. He patted it lightly in a mockery of a comforting gesture. “Sumika.”
Akemura comes to regret running headlong into a fight with the Mikaboshi prince. It isn't much of a fight.