Unfortunately, that cobblestone was proving too large a hurdle for Kit to presently overcome. He wished it was just Kurama's memory, that stopping this exercise would remedy the newfound tightness in his chest or the acrid taste on his tongue, but he was beginning to suspect certain parallels in their lives were not happy accidents.

When he'd been young, much younger than Kurama had been in that vision, there had been someone in his gang who had proven unreliable. Knowing what he did now, he could not brush his actions off as those of a child who didn't know any better, because he knew now that he had a predilection for a certain ruthlessness, the sort that could not be shed.

If there was any scrap of him left that was decent, he would tell Reimi that he had seen enough, or that if he continued from this point on he would do so alone. He wanted to tell her what he thought, that she deserved the company of someone far better than himself in these dreams, someone who hadn't proven themselves to be so hard-hearted in two different lives, but the words didn't come. Instead, Kit found his curiosity piqued by her statement and, instead of running away, he lingered.

And he hated himself for it, for he knew deep down that his reasons were not conceived of sentimentality, but a matter of advantage. The more people were willing to offer him about themselves, the better prepared he would be to face whatever came next.

"I would like to hear about it, if it isn't too much trouble."