A/N: Spoilers for Chapter 42. Beware.
Disclaimer: Dogs belongs to Shirow Miwa.
-Inharmonious Breaths-
There's no end to this. Naoto thought as she gripped her sword tightly. The dog-faced bastards just kept coming. There were so many of them and they just didn't seem to stay down. Damn them.
She paused for just a second and one of them sidled up behind her and struck.
She turned as quickly as she could and barely parried the strike. The knife was caught at the cross-guard of her sword. The feeling that crawled down her spine and settled itself in a cold and sickly manner at the bottom of her stomach told her that there were many, many more of them behind her.
Their breathing made constant noise that sliced through the tension in the air as each breath was sucked through tubes and openings to pass through black lungs protecting a black heart that must have been stained by the sins they had committed. Each breath was released in a hollow whoosh. It was almost synchronized.
Then the sound of a trigger being pulled and bullets spraying the ground filled the void that had been sucking all her hope up. In poured shame, anger, gratefulness and a little something extra into the void that had momentarily been filled with terror.
The knife was snatched out of the air and used to slice up the former wielder of such a simple blade. The hilt was always familiar. There was no blood spurting and no howls of anguish. The ever-present noise of breathing filled the air.
"We're not playing house here, you know! So don't go off daydreaming! You won't be able to stop these guys with sissy blows like that." Haines voice filled her ears and his image filled her eyes.
His tone vibrated in her chest and she had to take a breath to remember where she was. His red eyes were mesmerizing with something almost like boyish delight sparkling in them. His hair was wind-blown, and his smile was a little wild. His mouth quirked up in a way that was almost soft. Almost. He continued, "How about it? You said you wouldn't be a 'sheep', right?"
Haine's eyes challenged her. In his own way, was he encouraging her?
Naoto furrowed her brow and said nothing.
He had already turned away and his lanky frame was tense. His hands were poised with his guns at ready. The chains at his belt clattered and clanked softly. Melodically. He was the image of an animal ready to strike. But for what purpose she wasn't sure. She wished she knew.
Naoto tightened her grip on her sword and concentrated on the gentle and inharmonious sound of metal moving against metal.
No.
More.
Breathing.