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... 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..." ...
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