#*taught

A huff escaped his lips. It came out mixed with a deep grunt, guttural noise born in the base of his throat, with an aching pressure threatening to cut his oxygen completely. It had been a while since Kurasame felt his lungs burning, as if flames consumed all the air up to his nostrils, paired with steep exhaustion.

The sharp edge of the blade he buried on the ground, for it to support his weight and help him regain his balance. By the Crystals, he was sweating like a pig.

Elegant frame opposed his disheveled own. Sora's chocolate locks waved gently with the rhythm of his footsteps, brandishing the sword in his hand with ease. Not a hair loose, not a speck of mascara out of place; the mere sight infused pure bewilderment in Susaya. He always knew this, that Class First cadets were on a completely different league from the rest of Agito students, but having joined Class First himself not long ago, Kurasame thought the gap between him and the elite had shrunk.

Foolish thinking.

Sora was, by himself, a level beyond his reach. He was the very definition of elite.

He frowned, either because it was hard to breathe, either because this monster with the face of an angel in front humbled him like he was just getting an afternoon snack.

Icy blue eyes stared at paraiba tourmaline gaze. Maybe his vision was blurry from fatigue, perhaps sunlight casted a shadow, however, Kurasame swore he saw him radiant like the sun.

"...What the hell are you, exactly?" Agito incarnated? "You're so stupidly strong it's infuriating." For someone this nonchalant, for someone so pretty and clumsy. "Footwork my ass, Sora. One day I'm going to beat you for real, just you wait."

bro

brO HOW OLD ARE YOU,,,

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