[When Tsurumaru stops with his hand on the handle, there's only a second that elapses before the rustle of fabric behind him betrays movement.

This time, the hold is just as gentle and strong as before, but it's also... more. Arms around his waist, pulling Tsurumaru back slightly into the other tachi's slightly bigger frame.

And given where the blood was on Tsurumaru's cloak, there is no way it is not staining the blue silk, a lot more than just his fingers earlier.

When Mikazuki speaks, his voice is a low whisper.]

How would you know what I want, Tsurumaru Kuninaga? You never even asked.

Are you that afraid of what I might answer?