Kenji arrived at her feet.
He had covered the three feet between where he had fallen and where she was standing on his knees, the physical effort of it visible in the shaking of his arms and the white, straining color of his knuckles — and he grabbed.
Her foot.
Then Raven's ankle.
Both hands — one on each person — and he looked up from the floor with tears running freely and his jaw set with the expression of a young man who has exactly one thing available to him and is using it completely.
"Let her go."
From below. Looking up the full length of the scene above him.
Kira's face.
The ahego expression that her face had found — the wide, rolling eyes, the parted mouth, the specific, demolished dignity of a face that had stopped managing itself and was simply reporting on what was happening to the body below it — looking down at him from above, her cheek pressed against the cool corridor wall.
"Don't—" She was still saying it. "Don't look, Kenji — please — please don't—"
