>Subaru: “Peh, trra...”
>Faltering, unsteady steps lead Subaru to the table.
>Petra lies face-up in the middle. Frozen firm on her loveable face is an expression of agony, tears and dread, her eyes wide open in despair of what she last saw. Blood leaks from the corners of her open mouth, the lethal blow of course being the slash of the deep knife wound splitting her belly.
>That maid outfit she had sweetly, fairylike with skirt billowing, shown to Subaru—from beneath its breast to its gut there rips a straight slice, the spilled blood and guts further lightening the body of the little girl.
>Something wells up from the back of his throat.
>Not vomit, but a sob.
>A heat burns in the back of his eyes, Subaru promptly reaching out to Petra's face before that can flow over. Her face yet remains in terror twisted. Subaru at least closes her eyes, sheds his jacket as he had before and lays it over her body.
>How many times now had he given this superficial compensation to an unsaved Petra?
>How many times, knowing this would happen, but still not averting it, had Subaru let this girl die?
>How many times, purely because of her involvement with Subaru, would this girl have to suffer?
>Subaru: “I'm so sorry... I'm sorry, I'm so sorry... Petra...”
>The apologies from his mouth reverberate only hollow.
I'm surprised Subaru hasn't broken down at this point. The old Subaru would definitely have.