Mio
Mio stood in the bathroom, staring at herself in the mirror. Can sat by the sink, playing with toothpaste.
She raised her hand, testing its tendons—feeling the grip that could fold a pan in half. And then she slapped herself.
Again, she slapped, leaving a fresh red mark across her cheek.
It wouldn't go away. The bloom over her sister's head. One hundred and fifteen.
Please, Mio-san.
The hunger was pleading now. That was entirely new.
Please.
[Debt: -30,000]
Mio had enough.
She punched the mirror and the surface cascaded into a dozen pieces. The green eyes still stared back, ten of them now. The shattered pieces stuck to her knuckles like scales.
She sighed and turned the water on. Cold, then searing hot. Her own punishment.
She peeled off the suit. The Bureau jacket, the slacks, the underlayer that had fused to dried sweat and blood. All of it pooled on the tile like a shed skin.
Her bare feet touched the tub.
How long has it been?
