Akaza's guttaral cries that had twisted his vocal chords were heard, inside his room.
Blood seeped into the floor under him with kokushibo's katana incising his marked wrists, making them a pale, fair peice of skin to crimson, desheveled slits.
"P-AHHH-please..s-stop.." The pinkette's phrase was no more than a cry, and a whisper in his throat, barely managing to untangle words as his chest heaved, completely vexed.
Akaza's eyes are full with cede, lucidating he was as shattered as broken glass.
Kokushibo didn't mutter a single word, degrading the small body incidiously eliciting whimpers and cries from uppermoon 3.
He looks down, watching salty beads of water roll down the other's delicate, plump cheeks.
"Such a fair face..wonder what's gonna heppen if i do so much as ruin it hm..?" Kokushibo drones in his usual deep, acriminous tone towards him.