Literary one-line blurb:
Shihouin Hitomi, burdened by too much of the Shihouin family’s past, falls into another world, wishing only for a place to call home.
The shortest one-line blurb:
A Soul Reaper who runs away from the world of the dead to the world of Naruto.
This is Cat’s new project, “[Prince of Tennis + Black Butler] Two Lives, Two Souls.” It’s a danmei story. The general idea is that Ciel’s soul is split in two. One half, light with a trace of darkness, is reincarnated as the soul of Echizen Ryoma; the other half is an incomplete dark soul. Sebastian isn’t satisfied with that incomplete dark soul, so he splits himself into two people, who seek out the other half of Ciel’s soul, now reincarnated as Echizen Ryoma, and become involved with it. Click the image below to read the story:
Author, where are you? Have you traveled through time?
Actually. . . The author has traveled through time. . .
Why did I accidentally fall into the pit...
Well, this is no longer a trap but a grave. . . . . . . Well. . .
Damn, I like your article very much. I hope you can continue to update it. I really want to read the following!
Update the article quickly, the author must be responsible for this article!!!!!!!
Give me more articles, more articles, more articles, the author is dead!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
The pit is deep. Put your hand in front of your eyes and you can see a little glimmer on the nails. Hold your breath and hear your heartbeat. So I hugged my knees tightly and sat at the bottom of the pit, looking up at a 45-degree angle to the sky. Legend has it that in this posture, you can see renewed light. Everyone is talking about the renewed light. I think it neither belongs to today nor tomorrow. It only appears at the time it should appear and stays where it should stay. In just a short moment, the weak white light warms the dark bottom of the pit and illuminates everyone's gaze. So they said legends yesterday, today, tomorrow... Legends are floating in every corner. "Are you new here?" Someone asked me. "Yes!" "You looked good climbing down!" I think she is praising me. I always do this, climbing from the bottom of one pit to the bottom of another pit. I am used to climbing, so I am very skilled. "Climb out together and take a breath?" She invited me like this. "No, thank you!" I was tired from climbing and wanted to rest at the bottom of this pit. There are pits on the ground at any time. When you climb out, you don't know which step ahead will lead you to fall into the next pit. I looked up at her posture as she climbed out, heading towards hope step by step, and heading towards the bottom of the pit step by step. There was numbness, fatigue, and struggle. So someone goes out and someone comes in again. "Hello!" "Hello!" "Is it comfortable to squat?" "My legs are a little numb, I'll lie down later!" "Lie down!" "Are you going out too?" "Yes, maybe there will be a new world in the next pit!" You see, people can never give up hope. So, I crawled. I crawled all over the pit. I'm still at the bottom of the hole. Crawling requires such a posture, with hands on the ground and legs kneeling on the ground. This is really not a pleasant posture, but when crawling, my eyes are infinitely close to the bottom of the pit, looking at every place over and over again, like a cow chewing its cud, chewing every word. I have forgotten the initial taste. What I am waiting for is tomorrow's food. I am a fish with my head raised, constantly devouring, never stopping, until the day when the food suffocates me to death. But what I use more is the "squatting" posture. This is a posture soaked in the blood and engraved in the bones. This is the posture in which I keep looking up. This is a 45-degree posture toward the sky. It is said that there is a creature called a bird in the sky. They come and go freely and are never restrained. Their wings are spread out and their bodies are light. I think they will definitely not be able to learn the "squat" movement. No part of their bone structure is designed for squatting. Creation is so discriminating against them that you can hardly imagine how much fun they have in living. Maybe one day you will meet me squatting at the bottom of a pit. I look up to the sky and cry in the wind; Maybe one day you will meet me crawling around, with long hair and fallen nails. Crawling towards you step by step, my hand passes through your black hair, my resentment passes through your network cable, do you know who I am? [Reposted from a great JJ reader...]
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Um, was the author assassinated?