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Kazuma’s eyes trace the bruises generously bloomed across Viina’s body. As she sleeps, he has the urge to run his fingers through the tangles of silver hair spilling over her pillow.
He stays a safe distance away, taking in the garden of mistakes he’s left to unfurl like poisonous flowers across her moonlit skin.
I should have been there.
He draws in a shuddering breath that racks him to his core. This isn’t the way he wants to say goodbye. Not when it could be the very last time.
Viina, I’m sorry.
The urge to collapse beside her, curl his body protectively around hers, whisper the words he’s selfishly kept locked in his heart over and over again into her scars draws him like stitches coming together. But he forfeited that right when he stung her. He doesn’t deserve to love Viina, or even to protect her in the sorry way he’d been doing before. Her intangible heart is his retribution.
If he succeeds, if he returns home in one piece, then perhaps he’ll be worthy of her. Until then, the only thing he has to his name is all the times he’s made her suffer.
She was helpless during the Ma clan’s massacre.
She was masochistic during Kugaha’s betrayal.
Against heaven, she was merciless and self-destructive as ever.
Kazuma failed her every single time.
A god is never wrong, he wants to say to her. You did nothing wrong. He cannot conjure a syllable, let alone the words she deserves. He’s apologized, but still nothing has changed.
He isn’t worthy to be her hafuri, guidepost, or anything in between. Not until he sets this right.
“Viina,” he whispers, knowing she can’t hear him. His hand, the hand bearing the name she gave to him, forms a fist. His nails dig into the meat of his palm. “I won’t torture you again.”
He watches the slow and steady rise and fall of her chest. He drinks the image of her in like it’s the very last thing he’ll ever see. Pale hands, a map of scars, fluttering lashes, all painted silver by the night sky filtering in.
Every inch of you is breathtaking, he thinks. He’s so lucky. He’s so damned. He loves her more than he hates himself. That is why he doesn’t give up.
With a final glance, he turns around and walks out the door.