"I know that. You think I don't know that?"
Koneko's hands shook and wavered as the Colt felt heavy in her hands. The rain drafted patterns along the slide as her blurred vision reacted to the ringing of the shot. The single .45 round had created a noticeable dent in Hitoshi's head, the velvet paste flowing out of ever orifice violently. The fact rumbled in her head, flustering her as shaky hands withdrew the firearm. Hitoshi-san was dead. The guilt that overflowed was replaced with a sensation of adrenaline. The gun came up again. One, two, three more shots into the carcass. Koneko felt alive, driven by the same feeling that she felt when she had first confessed her anguish, her feelings. Everything that had caused her to impulsively unload theweapon into a defenseless human being.
How could it be her fault? Koneko didn't ask Raku to fall in love with Hitoshi. She didn't put up with him for her sake because she said so. She deserved to be happy. To have her all to her self. It wasn't selfish. It was earned. She resisted the urge to put him out for so long, but under the silence of the rain as she walked home, the weight was lifted. Who else was going to do it? Hell, Raku must be at home, scared sick of the weather. There wasn't a better time to simply "show up" and make herself at home. As if Hitoshi was going to do it. Nothing in her way. So when her suspicions were confirmed and she was able to mash up some mochi ice cream with the same hands that fixed problem after problem, it felt perfect. It felt real.
"Do you think Hitoshi-san is okay, Koneko-chaaan?" Raku squeaked, her body flat against the cushions of the couch. "Don't worry, Raku-chan, Hitoshi-san is probably already home." Koneko said, maintaining the usual low grumble of her tone. Yet the lie slid off so easily. It flowed like water out of her mouth, this sickness that released her from inhibition. She knew she would just rub it off, say she didn't enjoy it to herself, and then get the itch again. The same malicious feelings that were cleansed when she felt Raku's touch. Her hair, her ears, her bust. Everything that Koneko recognized on the base level that caused every caustic feeling to tone down.
But she didn't feel the same.
"I think I'm going to go to bed, Koneko-chan." Raku yawned, slipping up from her position and moving tiredly to the stairs that led up to her room. "Have a sugoi night." She continued, Koneko nodding in response as she laid down upon the cushions, her vision focused on the television that had died in the storm, the signal cut. The blue light emanated into her face, her eyes staring for hours into its glow. The light judged her, gleaming rays of blinding her slowly before she closed her eyes, sinking her face into the armrest.
"I know that. You think I don't know that?"