Warnings: Blood, blood, and blood.
Year: 2019
Here's a true story from the author. Eagles have the most extended lifespan and can live up to 70 years. But to get to this age, the eagle must make a tough decision. In its 40th year, its long and flexible talons can no longer grab prey, which serves as food, its long and sharp beak becomes bent, and its old-aged, and heavy wings, due to their thick feathers, stick to its chest and make it challenging to fly.
As a result, the eagle has only two options left at the end of this change process: to die or endure a painful process. The process requires that the eagle fly to a mountaintop and sit on its nest. The eagle knocks its beak against a rock until it plucks it out. Then the eagle waits for a brand-new beak to grow back.
It will pull out its talons, and the eagle starts plucking its aged feathers when the new talons grow back. After five months, the eagle takes its famous flight of rebirth and lives for 30 more years.
The so-called opportunity was not given to Y/N that rainy evening. Fate only granted her five days. Five fucking days and she woke up covered with sweat, feeling pain all the way to the bone marrow, but she didn't open her eyes. She begged it to be just another one of her nightmares, but deep down, she knew it was real.
An unsettling truth buzzed in the room as if it was always with her, but she couldn't see it. But now it seemed more obvious, nocturnal, and intense than she could ignore anymore.
The heaviness of her chest made her breathe hard, and the burning cold she felt didn't make it any easier. Something was taken away from her, something she longed for, something she was looking for, and it hurt. It hurt so much. It would have hurt less if she had pulled her heart out of her chest and squeezed it in her hand.
Her hand slowly shifted under the blanket, and that's when she realized there were needles attached to her hand. Now the sound of the beep penetrating her brain made more sense. Apparently, she was in a hospital-like room, but she still didn't dare open her eyes to confront reality. She was alive, contrary to her expectations, making the reality more bitter than it ought to be.
Y/N seized her stomach as pain ran through it. She covered her mouth with her hand, and her breath crushed her trembling fingers. She was no longer a mother, or perhaps she was a childless mother. Sadly, no word in dictionaries could be used for mothers who had lost their children before they were even born. Nobody thought a situation this painful required a word.
Y/N recalled how, as a last resort, she had attempted to absorb the negative energy of that curse, and now she knew she owed her life to her daughter's sacrifice.
Y/N never had a mother to learn maternity, but she knew it wasn't fair for a child who didn't even have a name to protect her mother. A hard-to-swallow lump formed in her throat as she tried to press her hands to the fabric of her clothes to hide her fear.
Everyone has the right to mourn the loss, but who says life gives a rat's ass about our rights? A wave of new pain came toward her, like a blade moving its sharp point upon her being. Her breath snagged in her throat. She was quick to open her eyes and sat. Her chest was barely moving back and forth.
She held the collar of her gown firmly because repeated coughs drained the air from her lungs. She had to get some air. Immediately. Her gaze soon found the window at the corner of the empty room. She had to get herself there.
With a panic gripping her throat, she grabbed the bedpost to get off, but her legs betrayed her. She screamed and shuddered and struck the floor, curled up into herself. The wires and syringes attached to her hands were suddenly removed. A small trickle of blood ran down her elbow, but she didn't care. She was fainting, and for sure, the continuous beeping of the machine was not helping her in this condition. She needed to stand up before collapsing again.
Y/N reached out to grab the nightstand, but her hand slid, and the small table rolled onto the floor. Napkins, a glass of water, and a vase full of Forget Me Not flowers fell on the floor and were broken into pieces. Her eyes were fixed on the blue petals of the flowers. Was that some stupid joke? He got her flowers? They lost their daughter, and he bought her a bunch of flowers? Did he presume foolishly that she would feel better after opening her eyes and seeing these flowers? In this sort of situation?
Suddenly, the world shifted out of focus. She was overcome by a hatred, an intensity, a resentment so forceful, she felt she was boiling with blind anger and disgust.
The ache in her heart was intact. She knew the flavor of every pain. After all, she was a half-curse, right? But the latter had a particular taste. The last time she felt it was months ago on a rainy day like today. About a year ago, when Sukuna ripped Yuji's heart out of his chest.
She was familiar with this sadness. The grief of loss, the dismay of the death of those she could have saved.
She could have saved her brothers, if she had been awake. It was like when a glass tumbled to the edge of the table, and she couldn't do anything but wait for it to fall to the ground and shatter into a thousand pieces.
Maybe if it were the old Y/N, she would have cried, screamed, and destroyed everything, but they say when pain exceeds a limit, silence prevails over everything. She took a deep breath, not paying attention to the broken glass on the floor. She grabbed the metal bed firmly with her hand and got up. Yes, her legs were shaking; her feet soles were bleeding, and her white garments were stained with blood, but she squeezed her jaw shut until the negative emotions scared away her pain.
After all, this was her true nature. His hands were built to be bloodstained, kill, and seek vengeance. It took her a while to finally accept herself as she was.
Y/N took a step, and the feathered petals were crushed under her feet while the sound of other shards of glass filled the room. Then, the door suddenly opened, and a woman in a white robe appeared in front of her. Shoko's widened eyes moved from broken pieces of glass to the bloodstained gown and then into the soulless eyes of Y/N. She had bent her head over her side and looked at her as if she didn't know her.
Cautiously, holding her hands in front of her, Shoko marched gently toward her. "Calm down, Y/N." She took a sharp look at the blood flowing from her elbow.
Y/N straightened her head and looked at the sorceress. Shoko was scared of her, and why would that make her feel right? Did being a curse feel this good? Had she known, she would have switched off her human half long ago.
"Y/N, listen to me. We thought..." Shoko didn't go on because Y/N approached her, and she had to retreat till her back hit the cold wall. Shoko glanced at the door, and the next thing she felt was a rush of blood hitting both of her arms and pinning her against the wall. She tried to release her hands, but it was a futile attempt. She looked up, and her eyes fell upon the sinister eyes of Y/N. She guessed this was the look her victims remembered a few seconds before they died.
"We thought," Y/N repeated under her breath. She was still in disbelief, with a face filled with anger, betrayal, and confusion. 'WE," she thought. So all of them had decided to kill her brothers, and only one had volunteered to finish the job. Such noble sorcerers! Why did this surprise her? Toji has been saying for years that sorcerers only care about their own fortunes, but she was so dumb that she never believed his words. "Why them?" Y/N asked. "Why now?"
Shoko didn't respond and just bowed her head. Y/N's bloody hand quickly caught her throat and started tightening. Now they were eye to eye. "I was loyal to you, sorcerers! I did all the filthy things you told me to do!" She shouted. Sadness poured from her hoarse voice. Unlike usual, Shoko could feel her pain this time, which was excruciating. "WHY?" She yelled and smashed her fist into the wall.
Shoko closed her eyes. Hearing the sounds of something breaking, she hurried here to check on her and was shocked by the scene she had encountered. However, she was aware that Y/N's anger was fully justified. Therefore, she couldn't find the words to comfort her. Is there even a proper sentence to calm down the one you have killed their family? No. It was one of those times when only blood washes blood. She raised her head and looked into her bloodshot eyes. How much pain had the world of jujutsu brought her? It was time for the sorcerers to acknowledge the consequences of their decisions. So she started with herself. "Curse users," she paused. Her voice was riddled with shame. Good. " They stole the cursed wombs: death paintings from school and—" A quick blow to Shoko's head knocked her unconscious.
There was no need to hear the rest of her words. Jujutsu society had kept her brothers' presence at school a secret, and when they were stolen, Higher Ups got rid of their threat without a second thought. Just what they wanted to do with her as well. They did not even wait to see whether her poor brothers had evil intentions. After all, they were wombs that the world had no place for.
This was the hardest part of being cursed wombs. They were strangers everywhere. Many considered them a curse. Others believed them to be ruthless murderers and curse users.
Despite the fainting, Shoko's body was still standing and glued to the wall due to the manipulation of Y/N's blood. Y/N released her throat and grasped Shoko's chin. She lifted her head and searched her face. Although Shoko was among the hundreds of sorcerers Y/N hated, she had saved her life and those she cared about on numerous occasions. She was the first person who approached her in prison, accepted her as a human being, and treated her as such. She was...she was her first friend. Y/N shook her head. No. She was never a friend because friends don't play a role in the murder of friends' loved ones.
Y/N unleashed her technique for Shoko to fall and made her way to the hallway. She was as guilty as anyone, but she was better alive than dead.
Blood was still running from Y/N's hand when her bare feet touched the dirt wet in the rain. Her hair was soaked with rain and her locks stuck to her forehead. She felt disconnected. Parts of her were moving without her mind even knowing what was happening. But she had to keep moving. There was no time for human deficiencies, and her legs seemed to have found their destination.
Flickering lights, a white door with a morgue panel, and dead bodies from two half-curses on cold, dissected beds. Her brothers. Siblings she had never met, but they were close enough to feel their pain.
With slow steps, shaking hands, she reached to the other side of the damp room and stood beside them. They lay there like broken dolls in sleep with painful holes in their chests. It was like whoever wanted to kill them tried to get the job done quickly, but knowing this didn't keep her from feeling a hole in her chest swallowing her inside.
Take a moment to think. Have you ever thought about someone in your family being ugly? Even if they were different from everybody else in the world? Was it possible for you to be literally disgusted with your family? No. There is a connection between the family members that still binds them together despite everything, which cannot be changed or denied.
Therefore, when Y/N leaned over their bodies and stroked their faces, she didn't care that, contrary to her, they had no human appearance. She was indifferent to the blotches of dried blood on their faces. They were dead, and she was on her own. The weight on her shoulders had doubled, and she felt even worse because she was unprepared. She stared at them and knew deep in her heart that her life would never be the same again.
She began whispering the lullaby she had sung to her daughter in the last few days. Her trembling fingers caressed their wounds.
Hush, little baby, don't say a word,
Mama's gonna buy you a mockingbird.
And if that mockingbird does't sing,
Mama's gonna buy you a diamond ring.
And if that diamond ring is brass,
Mama's gonna buy you a looking glass.
Maybe weeping would make her feel better, but she seemed to have lost that ability. All her tears had been used up. The only thing left in her was anger and a grudge that kept her knees from bending. With her eyes closed, she continued to hum her lullaby with a gravelly voice. She kept singing and didn't look back even when she sensed a considerable amount of cursed energy at the door.
And if that looking glass gets broken,
Mama's gonna buy you a billy goat.
And if that billy goat don't pull,
Mama's gonna buy you a cart and bull.
Satoru had missed the delicate warmth of her voice. It had been so long since he had heard that tone that he had forgotten what it was supposed to sound like. He knew some days her sadness was a mild lisp. It barely scratched the surface of her voice, but today Melancholy had waged a full-scale assault on her vocal chords. Her current anguish had put deeper edges around her words. The phrases came out sharp like her favorite knives, as if her tongue had sharpened each end of her words before they were made.
And if that cart and bull turn over,
Mama's gonna buy you a dog called Rover.
And if that dog called Rover doesn't bark,
Mama's gonna buy you a horse and cart.
And if that horse and cart turn round,
You'll still be the sweetest little babe in town.
The lullaby swelled. The ache in her tone hit him, causing a cascade of memories and regrets. The melody told him everything she had gone through, everything she had experienced, was the terrible price she had paid just because she had opened her heart to him. Could he see the rage creeping up her neck?
The sound of rain and thunder could be heard from the room. "Eso and Kechizu (her brothers), did they suffer?" The question came suddenly, causing Satoru to raise his head. He couldn't see her face, but undoubtedly her clenched fists spoke volumes. There seemed to be nothing left of happiness in her voice.
She knew something was coming, but she didn't know it would be Satoru. She didn't think he would be the one to hurt her, to kill her brothers, to make her wish for death more than she ever had before.
There was no handbook for teaching him how to tell the woman he desperately loves that, no, your brothers' death was swift and painless. He inhaled and opened his mouth to speak, but whatever words he had, died in his throat, and only a "No" could escape from the claws on his tongue.
And there it was. Every memory, every belief, everything she thought she knew about Satoru sank in. He admitted to murdering them. She squeezed her eyes shut. "You still have a bit of honor left in you." Her voice was so loud and thunderous that he couldn't concentrate on what she said. Irritation vibrated through her every word. There was no trace of that sweet Y/N whose voice had filled his ears a little while back.
She was gone. Everything was gone.
"I didn't want to do it," he mumbled. "But I had to." He knew from the beginning that what he wanted to do would win him nothing but Y/N's hatred. But he had to do it for the cost of awakening her and proving her innocence.
Her heart cracked. Her eyes flashed. She was so hurt, angry, horrified, humiliated, and burning with indignation so raw that it was like a fire raging within her. A wildfire of decimated hopes. She wanted to crush his spine in her hand. She wanted him to know what it was like to wound, to inflict such unbearable agony on others. She wanted him to know her pain. She wanted him to hurt. Because maybe Toji was right. Maybe some sorcerers did deserve it.
Unaware of the wrath thrummed through her veins, he wanted to go on and apologize, but what his eyes showed him made every effort meaningless.
"YOU HAD TO DO IT?" Anger curled hot and unstoppable in her gut, like a blazing inferno that wanted to burn her from the inside out. She slammed her hand against the metal bed so loud that the sound resounded in the room. "NO!" An ear-piercing shout filled with terror rang through the damp room as the rotting, crumbling walls rattled. "ALL YOU HAD TO WAS TRUST ME!" She yelled and quickly spun around to send a blade-edged blast of blood to Satoru without even looking at him. "YOU HAD TO BELIEVE ME!" She struck him again with her blood no longer cared to spill. Fury had overpowered her. "YOU HAD TO STAY WITH ME!" Her pain traveled up and out of her chest, mixed with frustration, guilt, and despair. Another blood blade mixed with rage rippled through her. "YOU HAD TO BE THERE!" The next blow was weaker than the previous ones. She had lost much blood, and it seemed she didn't intend to bring it back into her body. What was she doing to herself? "YOU HAD TO BE A ... GOOD FATHER!" Her voice cracked while saying it. She gave up and dropped to her knees. "You...had...to...be...a...good...father." Her voice trailed off as she sent one last blow.
Y/N was on her knees, her body cracking from the pain she had swallowed so many times, heaving with sobs she could no longer suppress. The agony of his past of the past weeks ripped her skin to shreds.
Satoru knew that these strokes could not hurt him, but what hurt him was the fact that Y/N had only targeted his heart. How much do you have to break a woman in love to turn her into your nemesis?
She looked paler and thinner than the last time he had seen her. His Six Eyes showed him her racing pulse and heavy breaths, almost as if she would burst. So he let her last shot, the weakest, cut off his palm. A reminder of the cruelty he had committed that even Reversed Cursed technique wouldn't cure.
There was blood all over the floor. Her once-white gown was now stained red and brown. His hair was still wet but sticky due to blood spatter. Her tears never spilled. She held them with deep breaths, focusing on the grinding pain in her knees and hands to distract her thoughts.
The sound of the strides reached her ears, and before she could retire, he knelt before her. She slowly lifted her head, and her eyes finally met him after weeks. Her blows had done him no harm. Just a little scratch off his hand. She didn't even realize she was shivering until her eyes caught a glace on her fingers. She was ashamed. She was ashamed of her weakness, but a part of her didn't care.
She was no longer the Y/N he knew. She had turned into a different person. Quite different than he remembered. It was as if she were an egg, cracked open and poured out, and all that was left were the tiny fragments of a hard shell.
Y/N had become stronger, and it was no surprise for Satoru. In the end, he aroused her hate on purpose to make her stronger, didn't he? But how come her wounds hadn't been healed? Or rather, why wouldn't she want her injuries cured? "I know you hate me, and you should. But we should get you to the infirmary." Deep concern was embedded in his expression, hunched over and with a sense of loss so powerful that his muscles wouldn't respond to commands. Shoko's words kept repeating in his head. "Your love is fatal for her. You shouldn't even touch her!"
Nobody could understand how he would do anything, throw it all away just to save her.
"Get away from me!" Her eyes were dull and empty, yet they told a story of sadness. She held so much agony in her eyes that he could almost touch her soul's scars and cry. Her shoulders were slumped, and her breathing was slow, as if her heart barely wanted to beat.
He wanted to hold her tightly, squeezing her between his arms and kissing away all the pain in her eyes. He wanted to sit in this blood bath, and she let him kiss her, kiss her, and kiss her. He wanted to beg for her forgiveness, but a sudden certainty struck his chest like a cold fist. He knew he had caused so much pain that she probably wished she was fortunate never to know him, that she was one of the billions of people in the world who didn't know he existed.
He was sure that she wanted to turn back the clock, go to the beginning, to New Year's Day he kissed her for the first time. Maybe she wouldn't open the door for him and never fall in love. Plus, he couldn't even touch her. He dropped his raised hand to his knee, desperate. His body had no idea how to react in such a situation. So he lowered his head. "I'm sorry, Y/N." Words slid out of his mouth. "I let you down," he paused. The empty, emotionless expression swept over his face as the moment's realization gradually seeped in. It was as though a giant boulder had landed on him, and he couldn't straighten out.
Y/N could almost reach, and touch the guilt growing on his shoulders. She had to ball her fists to control the thrills tripping her heart. She was almost too distracted by the feel of his voice to understand the significance of what he was saying.
A heavy sigh. She felt him shift in the darkness, and soon his body was too close, so disarmingly close to hers.
"I let our daughter down," he said, his voice quiet. He hung his head and let the tears flow. He lost a child, too. He was also grieving. And even before he could lament or punish himself for being such a coward, he had to let go of his child's mother as well. He had to lose her forever. Silent tears spilled over and flowed down his face like a river escaping a dam.
When she saw him, broken with crying eyes, she wanted to rip her heart out and feed it to him because she knew he no longer had one of his own, but she was no different than him—a state of misery that had no end. No parent should experience the death of their child.
She remembered all the moments she missed his skin, his smell, his feet, his hands, her hands on him, his heart, his tenderness, his touch, his stubbornness, his bitchiness, his favorites, his insights, his outsights, his power, his force, his wait, his food, his smile, his muscles, his hair, his secret places, his closeness, his distance, his problems, his troubles, his sweat, his tears, his spit, his occupation, his protection his brutality, his dark, his light, his cock, his laughter, his moan, his curse, his walk, his move, his needs, his fun, his peace, his war, his gifts, his dreams, his desires, his sex, his attitude, his cockiness, his smirk, his strength, his weakness, his history, his past, his future, his beauty, his ugliness, his truth, his lies, and his eyes.
There was something in his eyes. Worry? Sorrow? Appeal? She wanted to forget that she was supposed to hate him, that he betrayed her, that he worked with the same people trying to destroy the very little that was left of her family. She wanted to wash her soul in the bottomless blue of his eyes.
BUT NO. She couldn't delude herself anymore. She had to be careful not to look at his eyes, not to let her imagination cripple her. Not here. Not now.
If he hadn't done what he did, maybe she could have hugged him, and they would have cried together. But she didn't feel that way. He killed her family members, and now the scale of her anger was heavier than her forgiveness.
Her eyes remained upon him. Sometimes a look between two people can last so long that it shakes you and forces you to look the other way. Did he still have a place in her heart? It didn't matter! Satoru Gojo was nothing but a murderer. He was the hardest lesson she ever had to learn. Her nails dug into her palm. "Why did you kill them?" She looked at his injured hand.
He clenched his jaw, and his shoulders dropped in resignation. "Because I love you." That was one pathetic confession. He knew you don't get to say I love you after ruining someone's life. All the bridges behind them were destroyed, and there was no path back. He had no home.
Suddenly the sound of Y/N's laughter filled the cold room. She guffawed like this was the dumbest thing she had ever heard in her entire life. Did he think he could get away with this absurd emotional game? No! Not this time! Not today! Not when those two dead bodies were lying behind her! "You killed them because you love me?" She scoffed.
The sting of agony in her voice made him flinch internally, but he remained as stoic as possible. Her laugh once made him feel like everything was beautiful, but at this moment, it sent a shiver down his spine. Just as her hysteric laughter had started, it suddenly stopped. She drew her face close to his. He could feel her warm breath on his nose. "No, fuck, you don't!" She was looking right into his eyes. All six of them. "You love being loved!" She raised her index finger in front of his face and watched how his Adam's apple tightened. "You're a fucking greedy man-whore who just likes sucking the life out of people, and it fucking hurts!" Her voice quivered. Her knuckles turned white.
Now, now, do you remember the story about eagles? Well, it's a myth, a made-up story. Eagles do not live for 70 years, more like 30 in the wild; they do not lose their beak and never go through a rebirth stage. But let's accept that the story was so inspirational, right? It's as if you could survive great pain, you would be born again. It looks like Y/N had had enough too.
"I love you, Y/N."
She had realized love was too strong of a word to have used so soon. "NO, YOU DON'T!" The next thing Satoru felt was Y/N's fists landing on his chest. "STOP-SAYING-THAT!" She was hitting him with all her remaining strength. None of these strokes affected him but seeing his eyes hurt him more than a thousand punches. Sadness. A word that can be used to describe her eyes in various ways.
"YOU-DON'T-LOVE-ME!" She tapped again and again and again. Even the blood on her hands didn't rub off on his uniform. "YOU-FUCKING-LEFT-ME!" Her breaths became harder and harder to control, as if her lungs had stopped expanding, but this didn't stop her from hitting his chest. "WHEN-I-" she paused. "WHEN-I-NEEDED-YOU!"
Her shouts were tearing his heart apart. He wanted to grab her hands and stop her, not because of himself, but because he was worried about her, but on the other hand, he knew he deserved worse. So his hands remained as they stood beside him.
She couldn't breathe.
She couldn't catch the oxygen around her and be dry-heaving into her gown. She could feel it through her body, that feeling of tiredness and lethargy. It was like drowning in the air. She stopped tapping him, sucked in a rush of air, and brought her hand to the base of her throat.
There was still no tear in her eyes. Y/N was no different from a rock. She didn't know if she had officially lost her mind. "If someone loves you, wouldn't do some shit like that."
Satoru's hands clenched, but in a second, they unclenched. She was right. When you love someone, you protect them from the pain. You don't become the cause of it.
Y/N raised her head in a gasp. When he met her red-rimmed eyes, they were a reflection of his own. They were broken and lost and stared at him with a hatred that he never thought would fit in her heart.
"You're fucking dead to me." She pushed him back. "You sucked the life out of me, and there is nothing there anymore!"
Satoru shook his head in denial, but something grew inside him like her words sank and expanded in his chest. Instead of accepting, he preferred to be killed by her than to live and know that he planted such a grudge in her heart. But fate was a bitch, and even this option wasn't available. Because according to their Binding Vow, if Y/N killed him, she would die as well, and Satoru didn't want that for her. This world needed people like her. His students needed her. He needed her. She was the best anyone could have in their life, yet his actions had turned her into the woman he was facing.
Y/N held his gaze for a moment, but then her eyes dropped to her pale and cold hands, washed with blood.
"You know, I have a lot of regrets in my life; I had told you about them," she said and glanced behind to her brothers. Dead brothers. Then she turned and smiled maniacally. "But I got to tell you." She tapped her finger on his heart. "Not killing you in that bar is got to be at the top of my list!"
As she spoke those words, she realized her anger was not as furious as it had been a few moments ago. It felt different. It was slow and cold. As soon as she sensed it, she realized those words had been hidden within her for a long time and crystallized as a pond that slowly froze entirely on a long winter night.
And this was it. The last nail in the coffin. Now she could feel his anguish. She could feel the power pouring out of his body. She could hear his heart beating in her ear and her head spinning with the rush of adrenaline fortifying her being.
She wished it hurt her. She wanted it maimed her. She hoped it repulsed her. She wished she hated the potent cursed energy wrapping itself around her skeleton. But she didn't. Her skin was pulsing with her lover's sorrow, and she didn't hate it.
She hated herself for enjoying it.
His pain gave her a pleasure she had never asked for. But unlike what she expected, it didn't taste sweet, maybe because his pain was still hers too. Maybe because part of her still thought the whole thing was another one of her nightmares. Maybe because part of her still wanted to believe that the man she loved would never commit such cruelty to her. He was the one who brought light into her darkness so she would not be lost in the shadow of her past, but then he was also the one who squashed that light.
She didn't look at him to see his expression. She placed her hand on her chest. Her heart must be bleeding out of her chest, but when she looked down, she couldn't understand why there was no fresh blood on her gown, why this pain in her heart felt so real.
Her body had lost its strength. Her mind had shattered, and the rest of her followed suit. This hatred devoured her, but without it, she would die. There wasn't any part of her that felt anything else. Without it, she would be nothing, feel nothing, so why eat? Why sleep? Why continue to breathe? So she had to hate. It was the fuel that kept her heart pumping and brain ticking over. But she was weary, too. She could hardly hold herself together.
"Satoru," Y/N called his name for the first time. It took her a lot to call him by his name. She looked at his face. Tears had gushed in his eyes, like storms agitating the oceans. This face once belonged to a boy who went to the brink of death to save a schoolgirl. A boy that had to burden weights so heavy for his shoulders. Then there was the regretful face of the man who had killed his friend. A man who never seemed to be truly happy. And now it was the face of a man who....
Satoru was just glad to hear his name out of her mouth, but that didn't last long. He watched as Y/N reached out and took his hand. He couldn't feel her touch.
Y/N was barely breathing, nervous and petrified but somehow counting the drops of tears tumbling over the hills and valleys of his mouth. She wanted to memorize the shape of his lips, the strong lines of his face, the eyelashes any girl would kill for, and the ocean blue of his eyes that she had learned to swim. She could almost feel his lips breathing before her lungs. She could almost taste him on her tongue.
He didn't resist when she raised his hand and folded her second and third fingers tightly. He couldn't understand. His mind wanted to reject all possibilities. She then looked at his face and carried his hand to her throat. Her world had grown so dark that she no longer wanted to live in it.
No. No. No. He would rather die than do that. He tried to pull his hand out of hers, but her grip tightened. Her nails would scrape his skin if it weren't for Infinity. "You took everything from me."
"No!" His voice was a fearful plea. He was a stone's throw away from going insane. He shook his head.
"You were supposed to kill me, remember? Think as if it's just a delayed execution." She didn't have the energy to come up with the right words. She just needed to be free, or her curse would follow her everywhere. It was like a scream that couldn't be stifled, a stinging numbness that would never go away. "Kill me too. There's a meaning to that."
"Stay away from my sister!" shouted Yuji, and he stood in between with inhuman speed. He picked her up and kept her behind him. He had heard the news and knew what his Sensei had done. Now seeing his hand on her throat, it was not surprising for him to be concerned for the life of someone he believed was his sister. How? It didn't matter at this point.
With wide eyes, Y/N stared at Yuji's hand, which had held hers firmly. Why didn't she feel any pain? Why were Yuji's hands so familiar? Her eyes moved and stayed fixed on the pink-haired boy standing in front of his Sensei, trying to protect her. Did her ears hear correctly? Did he call her his sister?
"Yuji, I would never harm her!"
"Like you didn't hurt my brothers?" He pointed at the corpses.
What was going on? But before she could conclude, she felt dizzy, and with a smile on her face, she fainted. Her body never touched the floor. Her little brother caught her. Maybe she still had something to lose.
It will take me a while to write the following chapters since they'll be the last ones.
After finishing "Forget Me Not," I'll start writing "Forget Me Too" the sequel :)