Mikiko looked at Sky’s face with a critical look. She could hardly recognize him, so much he was covered in bruises, scratches and various wounds. However, even so, literally swollen from beating, the boy maintained a singular beauty: the eyes, of a magnificent blue, clearer than the sky above Rio in the spring days, stood out even more amid the purple bruises that surrounded his eyelids, and the slightly dark skin, tanned by years of sun, seemed to fit perfectly with the scratches that now covered it, as if they had been there forever. Even the lips, broken in several points, and the long brown hair, which now fell disordered on the sides of the face, helped to give the boy a wild and strangely attractive look.
Mikiko lowered her face, to hide the faint blush that had begun to color her cheeks, and her gaze settled on Sky’s shirt, or at least on what was left of it: shreds of cloth that let glimpse generous portions of abs. Mikiko blushed, becoming purple, while her mind w