Himiko can't stop moving: she can't risk thinking, remembering.
Ban acts cool, but Himiko isn't fooled--they know each other too well, and better than they want to.
Sometimes--when she's not careful--Himiko remembers what is felt like to be young and happy when she's around Ban.
Ban had thought the family he'd found in Yamato and Himiko would last forever; he should have known better--(he did know better).
Every time Himiko thinks she has Ban figured out, he proves her wrong.
Ban is not gentle with Himiko; she would hate him for his concern if he showed any.
Himiko doesn't need another brother--Ban killed the only one she had, and the only one she wants.
Himiko has thought of a hundred ways to kill Ban (he could give her a thousand more, if she asked).
I'm going to be as rich as a king someday, Ban says; I'll buy you something nice, Himiko--bigger tits, maybe.
Better that she hate him than learn the truth, Ban decides--it is easier to live with hate than without hope.
Boundaries blur at night; sometimes Himiko dreams of Ban's hands, Ban's mouth.
Ban has spent years waiting for this moment; he's distantly proud of her when Himiko faces him without flinching, and says: prepare to die, Midou Ban.
They've both changed--seen and done too much--and it shouldn't be so easy to fall back into old habits.
They're both used to Yamato being in command; left alone, they never fail to clash.
Ban holds himself to a promise shared only with the dead: he'll die before he'll let anyone (else) hurt Himiko.
She doesn't need his help, Himiko insists, so Ban waits and watches (and discovers that she's right).
Himiko watches Ban burn to death; Ban slides his glasses back into place a minute later, and Himiko shouldn't feel so light at the sight of him (alive).
Why is it, Ban wonders, that the only women who pay him any attention are the ones who want him dead?
Soulless bastard, Himiko says--you're hardly even human.
The woman says: what a pretty picture the two of you make; Himiko flushes, and mutters: crazy old bat.
Only a fool would trust Midou Ban; I trust him, Yamato says; Himiko can but reply: and you're dead.
Himiko has every right to be furious, but Ban isn't about to die at her hands.
Beware the Voodoo Children, Ban's grandmother warns--but Himiko is hardly more than a child, and she's a friend.
Himiko has comforted herself with thoughts of Ban's death for years; now, though--she doesn't know what she wants.
There are shadows in Himiko's eyes; Ban knows that he's responsible for more than his fair share of them.
Ban isn't good at saying goodbye; none of this relationships end on such a positive note.
You've gotta stop telegraphing your moves, or you'll end up dead sooner than not, Ban tells her.
Fortune favours the bold, Himiko grins wildly, and attacks; for once, Ban is left scrambling to keep up with her.
Himiko knows that she's safe with Ban--but then, she's learned that there's all kinds of dangerous.
There is a ghost of a smile on Himiko's battered face; idiot, Ban snarls, and holds the antidote to Himiko's lips.
Ban is quiet and serious when he reads, and while she doesn't understand the appeal of his boring old books, Himiko appreciates the changes they bring out in Ban.
Ban has the most beautiful eyes Himiko has ever seen; she still plans to gouge them out when she next sees him.
Ban has never thought about fucking Himiko--at least, not seriously (because he's not blind, but he's not stupid, either).
Cursed blood sings in her veins, threatens to drive her mad--and Ban is there, waiting, watching.
It's been the two of them, alone against the world for as long as Himiko can recall--and suddenly, there's Ban, and now they're three.
Himiko can't stop loving Ban, and can't stop hating him--she's tried, and she's tired.
His time with Himiko and Yamato were some of the best days of his life; the memory of them is too bitter to bear.
There's blood on the wall, the floor, Ban's hands; the sight of it all is stained into Himiko's memory.
Ban hands Himiko his shirt, and smirks: maybe it's time to invest in some sturdier clothes?
They used to burn witches; Himiko thinks fire would make a fitting end for Ban.
Ban is powerful, so Himiko knows that she must grow strong, and even stronger yet.
Ban learns early on not to bother Yamato and Himiko when they're making their potions (we call that one the devolution scent; you like it, Ban?)
Ban doesn't believe in God, or fate, or anything other than his own strength and wit; Himiko used to (but that was a lifetime ago).
They both help hold up the wall between them--it's safer for everyone, that way.
Seeing Ban without his glasses feels more intimate than finding him without his clothes, and Himiko has done both.
Yamato doesn't trust either of them to drive his car; he doesn't bother to complain when they race each other in stolen ones.
Ban is cautious; the serpent coiled in his arm could snap Himiko in half, given the chance.
Precious things break too easily, Ban tells Himiko; she believes him.
Himiko is no innocent, but she doesn't like the way that something in Ban always hungers for violence.
I'm sorry, Ban says, but Himiko doesn't care--I don't believe you, she says.
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