[ There's a little boy sitting under a ragged tree during early summer rainfall, his yellow-ochre yukata stained and torn with old brown blood as he shivers. Head down, shaggy hair drips steadily onto wiry bent knees, everything about his expression closed off as he cries, mouth open on silent wet sobs. A splash of dirty grey and mint-green lining
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... You're a big Gin.
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It's mine, I'll keep it if I want to.
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[ He lets out a small laugh before crouching down so that the two of them could be closer to eye level. ]
Or is it just Sousuke, now?
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[ Narrows his eyes. ]
Go away, Gin, I don't want to play.
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