You were violently ripped from your deep and dreamless slumber by Kiyoshi's harrowing screams. The cloak of almost suffocating silence that enveloped your house was torn to shreds, and you were dragged unwillingly into a real life nightmare.
With your heart pounding like a drum, you catapulted from your bed, every fiber of your being resonating with urgency. The apartment itself seemed to conspire against you, its once-familiar features twisted and distorted, as if you had stepped into a parallel dimension. Kiyoshi's cries, filled with agonizing fear, were a discordant note in the otherwise hushed stillness of the night.
"(Y/N)!" Kiyoshi's voice wailed, his plea for help carving through the surreal atmosphere. "(Y/N), PLEASE!"
Without a moment's hesitation, you raced through the dimly lit hallway, your footsteps ghostly echoeing on the cold, wooden floor. The world around you was all blurred, and you found yourself in a disorienting dreamscape. Kiyoshi's room seemed so out of reach, and your body was washed with a sense of helplessness, your chest with void, as you tried to reach your little brother's bedroom.
There, curled into a trembling ball, you found Kiyoshi. Tears streamed down his face, his body quaking with pain. The sight of your little brother, fragile and terrified, struck a raw chord deep within you. His legs, contorted and bruised in a grotesque manner, petrified you right in your steps. The shape that they had now achieved defied any law of anatomy, their color was a night-painter's palette, all blotched in blacks, purples and blues.
Your stomach churned at the sight, your legs turning into jelly and your heart aching with a thousand of emotions, amplified a million times. You fell to your knees, holding your chest where the pain started: being the older sister, the sight your brother's face - the one you loved most on earth - contorted from such a horrific suffering, became instantly your only sorrow in the world.
"Kiyoshi?" You cried out, your voice a desperate plea. Panic swelled within you as you rushed to his side, your own sense of reality slipping away. The apartment, once a sanctuary of familiarity, now seemed like a nightmarish labyrinth, its very essence distorted by the unfolding horror.
"(Y/n)," he sobbed, his voice barely a whisper, "He hurt me."
Tears welled in your eyes as you held Kiyoshi close, his torment becoming your own. Looking around, the apartment's surroundings felt unreal, a realm where the boundaries of reality had dissolved. Where was the security? Where was the family? The protection? The father, the mother? The light 'mom's and 'dad's fluctuating in the air when you needed them?
Summoning every ounce of your strength, you reached for your phone, your trembling fingers dialing your mother's number. She worked late-night shifts, and you prayed that she would answer despite the ungodly hour.
"Mom... Kiyoshi," you said when she picked up, in a tone full of panic. "Come home, now."
Your mother's voice, groggy with weariness and concern, broke through the haze of anxiety. "What happened, (Y/n)? Are you okay?"
Tears streaked down your cheeks as you tried to explain what was going on. "It's Kiyoshi, Mom. He's hurt badly. I'll explain when you get here."
You sniffled, pulling Kiyoshi in a tighter hug. "Please, come home. Please, please, please," you begged into the phone, feeling once again that void of despair pulling your chest deep into itself.
Your mother promised to rush home and ordered you to call an ambulance, and you obliged, immediately calling the emergency number. After you hung up, your attention returned to Kiyoshi. His little arms clung to you, his hold feeling as tender as the wings of a butterfly, his sobs filling the room with a haunting echo.
"Kiyoshi," you urged, your terror now masked with determination. "Who did this to you?"
Kiyoshi's voice trembled as he recounted fragments the events of that night - the intrusion, the pain, the masked figure, and the overwhelming fear that had enveloped him. It was a narrative that defied belief, a tale spun from the depths of hell. You listened, your mind struggling to reconcile the grotesque reality that had intruded upon your lives.
"(Y/n), make it stop. It hurts."
You listened to his infinite plea, pushing your forehead against his. His voice broke with the cries, cracked with his struggle to breathe in properly. Saliva ran down the edges of his mouth, his cheeks burned against your own. He hugged you tighter, as if it was the lack of love that couldn't fix his pain.
"I would, Kiyo," you cried into his dark hair, letting despair completely take over, "I would. I would give you my legs and take your pain." You sobbed, your whole throat reverberating with hiccups of hopelessness, "I just don't know how."
Kiyoshi slept peacefully under the influence of drugs, his chest rising and falling steadily now that he was finally given a break from the hell he'd been living in. You gently caressed his warm cheeks, ran a hair through his soft hair and sung him reassuring lullabies, where the world was a sunny, blooming garden, and your brother hadn't been a scapegoat to the atrocities of humanity.
You fell into a complete void. Completely inert to the world, reacting only when interacted with. But you tended to Kiyoshi religiously. You readjusted his bed almost maniacally and refused to leave his side. Only if your mother was watching over little Kiyo, you would leave the aseptic hospital room. And that was only to go to the restroom, where you could secretly let your tears run, your emotions violently tugging at you.
Days blurred into a disorienting continuum. The hospital became a second home, its sterile corridors and blinding fluorescent lights further distorting your sense of reality. Your calls to the authorities yielded little response, their bureaucratic challenges adding to your overwhelming sense of isolation.
A desperately lonely night led you to call the only person you could run to for comfort: Fukunaga; a glimmer of hope in the otherwise lifeless reality you were now accustomed to.
Something in the bizarre events of that nightmare of a night suggested that Fukunaga wasn't the one to infiltrate your home the first time your nude pictures were leaked. You couldn't shake that feeling of guilt, for pushing your only person in Tokyo away from you. Maybe there really was someone who was capable of breaking into your home, and doing such terrible actions to your brother. And you were certain that it wasn't Fukunaga.
Fukunaga's voice crackled through the phone after the first ring, a mixture of disbelief and genuine concern being delivered to you. "(Y/n)? Are you okay?"
Relief washed over you when you heard his voice after such a long time, and you finally felt like you could let out a long, relieved breath.
"I'm in the hospital with Kiyoshi. I don't know if you've heard." You paused for a minute, pondering your next words. "Can you come here?"
Fukunaga agreed without hesitation.
His elongated figure appeared behind the glassy door, his eyes shining under the moonlight that filtrated through the windows. His eyes saddened deeply at your sight, but his arms automatically spread, inviting you in.
A long hug was exchanged between the two of you, the reconciliation feeling like a heavy weight off your shoulders. You didn't need any explanation, nothing more than his presence beside you. He smelled like his usual self, clean, with some lemony notes - and so you took every opportunity to fall into his homely embrace, feeling, after such a long time, quiet. The thoughts in your head stopped buzzing and bouncing around, and you could finally take a break from the hell burning your brain.
You two didn't talk much that night. He knew you needed silence, so you just lied down on his legs and slept peacefully after many restless nights.
Kiyoshi's legs were both enveloped in chalky casts, but the recovery was hard on him. He had lost weight, and his usual lively looking self was now absent, lost in a dull shell of painkillers. Fukunaga helped you through the tough times with Kiyoshi, tried to cheer him up, bought him candy and toys just to bring him back to life.
He also helped you build a new routine, and take your life back after the shock - your mornings were always at the hospital, afternoons at home with Fukunaga, and nights filled with restless worry in a bed that didn't feel like yours anymore. Your whole house didn't feel like yours anymore. It felt unsafe, scary. Every sound made you crawl into your sheets, every shadow filled you with panic. You tried to convince your mother to spend the nights at the hospital too, but she insisted that you had to go back to your normal routine, and that she had to stay by his side in his sleep. Maybe to make up for her absence that night. To fix the guilt, maybe.
But your dad didn't care. He sent Kiyoshi a few toys, and a get-well-soon card - even your little brother disgustedly tossed them aside, throwing them on the rubbery ground of the hospital room in anger.
Kuroo lurked in the shadows, growing increasingly restless as his sinister plan inched closer to fruition.
He visited you at your home, feigning concern as you hadn't been to school for a week now.
"(Y/n)," Kuroo said, his words dripping with insincerity, "You need to get back to school. Staying at home won't help Kiyoshi, and it won't help you either."
You couldn't help but feel a nagging unease at Kuroo's insistence. It was as if he was pushing you to abandon Kiyoshi, to leave him vulnerable. But you knew you couldn't let your guard down, not with the elusive figure of the pink-masked intruder still haunting your nightmares.
But he was right, and you were going insane inside the four walls of your room. Besides, he was your savior. And he was a good person. So you simply brushed off your feelings, and you listened to him, now falling deeper into his net.
The police finally began to take action. You, trapped in this nightmarish world, finally revealed all the details you had gathered - the pink mask, the break-in, and Kiyoshi's torment.
As the authorities launched their investigation, you couldn't help but wonder if the truth would ever come to light in this distorted reality, where every corner seemed to hide a malevolent secret. The hospital's sterile ambiance and the relentless uncertainty of your situation only deepened the kafkaesque quality of your existence, leaving you adrift in a world that felt increasingly unreal.
But Kuroo's plan was finally reaching its climax, and you could all feel the tension tingling in the air.
໒(⊙ᴗ⊙)७
WE'RE CLOSE IM SORRY I KNOW IM SLOW I KNOW THE STORY IS SLOW BUT IDK WE'RE CLOSE VERY CLOSE GIVE ME A LEMON CHAPTER AND SOME DEVELOPMENT AND THE YANDERE IS GONNA BE YANDEREING
i LVOE YOU ALL SO MUCH. keep slaying xoxo