Chapter 45:Brush

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~*(y,n)'s POV*~
I look at myself silently in the mirror, my copy, equally staring back at me from the counter. The brush in my hand hovers in the same reflection, over the same paper my replica has in front of her. Seeing that mirror with an equally empty sheet, I wish the words could start appearing for me so I don't have to do the work myself, but I'm sure so many others have asked the same thing before me. Have the work already handed to them so they don't have to think out each individual word to write out, contemplate on what will come next.

I can't do that, obviously. It has to be me that sends this out. No matter how bad I may proclaim myself to be at this, not how it will be written, not even who it will be sent to. Ok... maybe a little bit of that. A part of me still hopes that he can't read, at least to spare me from the embarrassment.

I unfolded my back from it's slumped form and finally put the brush down onto the crisp paper, letting the first few touches of black ink sink into the surface. I don't quite have the words thought up to myself, but it's got to be before I leave for my next task.

'Kyojuro,'

I took a breath in as I finished up with the Kanji of his name, hesitating for the next few seconds as if I was actually speaking to him. I feel winded to finally bring the brush up from the now used paper. There's no going back after this.

'I hope that these words will find you in good health, considering the situation troubling you, lately. I write to you on this day to give my deepest regards to you, hoping that things with your father have been patched up, at last.'

''Those days back at our mission, you said something to me that I...'

I stopped once more and looked back at the mirror. I wish that the mimic on the other end of the room didn't have to copy everything when seeing the rosiness across my cheeks, hoping aimlessly that I'm not actually blushing. Alas, I'm not exempt from the laws of reflections, especially not now.

The way he was acting after that battle against that demon child, it's been getting me confused ever since then. 'If there's anything you ever need past this point, I'll always be in your corner!' He said to me, holding me by both his hands and the smile that could lift away any storm. He really thinks I'll ever actually do that?... Of course he does. He isn't the most oblivious of people that I made him out to be, but that doesn't mean he isn't.

I shook my head to myself, tapping my brush back onto the surface of the ink. Can't let the tip go dry just yet, I've got to keep going.

'I couldn't help but think about it more afterwards. It touched me to hear the gratitude from you. I'm grateful that I could assist you...'

My hand seemed to reach a point in which the ink itself would not let it move any further, suddenly gaining the strength to fight against my efforts. Not even replenishing the black substance is helping, and putting all my muscle power into it only threatens to push me back even more from progressing onward-

I rushed to put the object back down on the table and stood up from my seat, my reflection copying me as her side of the mirror couldn't push through anymore progress, either. I give up, we both give up, there's no way I'm actually going to finish this. I don't even know what I'm doing, trying to write a letter to Kyojuro. And why? Because I can't seem to grasp onto the concept of being appreciated by someone. I'm more than just confused about my emotions over him, nothing has interfered as much as our last mission has been doing to me, his words, all it took for me to grow silent in these rambling thoughts. Those damned, kind words...

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