For Nobara

Chapter 7: If I Make You Disappear

There was screaming in the dark, people with mouths cracked open and wide eyes, but there was no sound coming out of their lungs. There was only blood. It rained down on her face as she looked down—down at her hands tainted with them.

Warm.

They were really warm.

Where was this blood coming from?

"W-What—What have you done?" a woman gasped, tears streaking down her horrid pale face, her grey eyes wide with fear as the spectator looked at her. "You murderer! You t-trai—!"

The woman choked.

A crack.

It began at her mouth and then slowly it spread down her body like a deadly disease. It painted her blue and purple down her throat as she turned gasping at the pain that suddenly burned her from the inside. Then it came, her scream, as she clawed at the pain until her nails were red, pink, and flesh.

The woman screamed for mercy as blood poured from her mouth, her eyes, her ears. But something coiled around the spectator... no, her murderer, something so very cold and dark.

Kill her.

And yet as the murderer stood there, she all but took it all in. Because the murderer feared it too, when the cold gripped her unkindly. Her body trembled and she wanted to scream too, but her voice was caged in her mouth.

She felt sick that she grappled at the sudden warmth that came for her, until it took her in its arms, overwhelming warmth that the cold curled its claws around her, refusing to let go.

And it screeched, the cold did. But the warmth is a beckon, a mumble of reassurance, a bright light. And the light has gentle hands and pretty obsidian eyes.

She convinces herself it's a sliver of hope, so she clings onto it. She clings desperately.

"Kakuzu... Kakuzu..." she sobs into his chest soaked wet in cold, trembling in fear of what could have had her, but he just holds her—holds her until there is only tiredness with her.

She can only think of his gentle hands. He isn't Kakuzu, but he is enough to lull her to sleep...

When she opens her eyes again, she is extremely tired, but she feels relieved somehow by lying beside the familiar mess of books. And even though the lack of light brought unpleasant memories of that place, she's grown fond of the dull light emitting from the candle on Kakuzu's table regardless.

The man sits quietly with his back to her, but she has observed him long enough to know without even looking at his face that his eyebrows are scrunched again because of some bounty. Because, what else could have made him look so disturbed?

"Go back to sleep," Kakuzu tells her as if he's sensed her staring at him for a while now, but she only grabs at his cloak and curls onto it. Even just the slightest of thought about the masked man makes her feel frightened and vulnerable.

Was it a nightmare?

No.

Her fear felt too real.