The Peninsula

The Fiction and Poetry Archive of Liana Mir and scribblemyname



Kyouka dreams sometimes of her mother, her old life, the before that might have been. She dreams sometimes of the future, of Atsushi and the Armed Detective Agency, of eating tofu on bright summer days.

A knife is in her hand. You have to kill in order to save them.

She stares at the blade and whispers to herself, “No.” Those days are behind her. Demon Snow is behind her, sword out, eyes blank and promising.

“No,” Kyouka says and throws herself into battle to fight the enemy and save whoever her dream has concocted.

She wakes with bloodless hands.


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