the one-eyed man is king
Fudou's dreams bulge like aneurysms and throb with blood, swelling around the single-eyed vision of his daily life and slowly strangling his thoughts. All those pretty, pretty images that make him lick his lips and swallow, all those happy thoughts, all those sweet tones of desperate begging that flood his mouth with the taste of blood.
He's saner than everyone else in Mugenjou. He doesn't delude himself. He knows precisely what he wants and he will have it.
He sits in a room of dust and shadows, toying with the dry bones of his hand, and listens for approaching footsteps.
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