Her blonde mane flung forward with her, "Hotaru," she muttered awake. The memory of her filled in rage, seeing a redhead smiling in death, stuck in her mind like glue; then waking up.
"Jotou?" Fumeko glanced through eyes thinner than paper; she tried to speak with a dehydrated mouth as her bangs licked the sides of her nose.
The dream that passed… 'That wasn't a dream… Didn't that actually happen…?' The dream was all fuzzy, much like any dream after waking up; Jotou could barely remember anything after stabbing, "Frye…"
Her brown pupils darted around the room—curtains blocking daylight, her nails long once more. Fumeko stretched awake and—"Woosh!"—blinked to the side of the blonde's bed.
Jotou slid out of the covers and stood up in a cold sweat down her neck and on her palms. She pushed the blonde bangs away, apprehending the brunette in a hug, "Everything reset… Thank hell everything reset…"
