❝𝘿𝘼𝙍𝙇𝙄𝙉𝙂, 𝙔𝙊𝙐𝙍𝙀 𝘼𝙎 𝘿𝙀𝘼𝘿 𝘼𝙎 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝘿𝘼𝙔 𝙄𝙎 𝙇𝙊𝙉𝙂. ❞
↣ A PARADOX IN WHICH
a girl rises and falls
like the Empire of Rome,
knowing not of
what she has gained,
but instead of what
she has los...
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『 Chapter 37 』
⤐ ♤ « 〚♞〛 » ♤ ⬷
It's been two days.
In the period of forty-eight hours, time has flowed both equally slow and equally fast. Despite how much has happened, it all was over so quickly.
The candle of heroism had flickered, a sweeping pass of wind threatened to stifle the golden fog that had swarmed a hero-centered society; however, the fog had still not yet lifted, but it had thinned. All Might's shining reign over Japan had been lost in the night—an Empire that had been built over years had fallen in a single day.
But the world moves on. New castles rise in the molten brick of the ones that had just been toppled, new ideas spread over the vast space as the old ones only remain on paper, and new domain is carved by those so ambitious to rise in the span of the ruinous cycle of space and stars.
And so, it took only two moonrises to absolve the tension All for One left behind.
The sun is cold on her cheek, beams of fluttering light piercing through her blinds and resting on her skin. Despite her layers of long sleeves, she shivers. Bumps rise on her arms, chicken skin hidden under cloth. Y/N is practically unmoving, her bare hands resting at her sides and fingers playing with her bedsheets. There is no warmth.
She hasn't felt this way in a long time.
It's been months. Y/N's sheets feel very different from the scratchy linens of the hospital bed; but even their familiarity doesn't bring her comfort or a sense of belonging. The hospital after the Sports Festival was prim and clean, everything in that room had meaning. Now Y/N finds herself in a similar situation, but instead in a place where she should feel, well, better (she doesn't).
A hollow gap tore through the left side of her chest. It came with a sudden pang and was followed by an overwhelming nothingness. For forty-eight hours it's been there, two sunrises and two sunsets, two thousand eight hundred and eighty minutes...but she shouldn't really lie to herself like that—it's been there for a long time.
Too long, she supposes. Age five is the day she collapsed on the ground as her chest twisted and ripped, muscle and arteries pumping harder than they ever had to before. The muscle had reshaped to include a mutation, an anomaly. But what was left was not an excess pump on the heart, but instead an overwhelming sense of loss and dejection.
Y/N stands from her bed, body unable to be connected to the mattress any longer. The sunlight is freezing, and she shivers once more. She pulls the string to flip open her blinds, but the temperature drops a few more degrees after that. It's August, it shouldn't be this cold.
