Dororo had been lying on the floor wallowing in his imposed despair for what had seemed like centuries in an unbearable state of both emotional and physical pain.

He didn't dare look down, at the risk of him passing out due to the gruesome sight of the large cuts in his arms alone. The last few minutes had all seemed like a dream from his perspective.

It was all a blur. Giroro poking fun, the quick run to emotional safety. It seemed so distant to him now. He could hear the muffled sound of Giroro trying to get into his house, but it would be of no use. All the windows and doors were locked and the house was secure.

Dororo had made a heaven for himself... Or so he tried. He thought that the cuts would help with his emotional pain but instead it turned into innumerable physical pain.

With his last bit of strength, he crawled of to his bloodied katana and put it back in the sheath on his back. At that moment, he realized that he had become too tired to live with the extreme pain, too tired to do anything. The pulsating pain, the blood coming from his open wounds, it would all be numb soon...

He nodded off in the small pool of his own blood, still gently flowing from his arms, pressed against his chest.

"For now, sleep..."