Chapter Text
Obanai’s memories of the past comes in waves, at first it was flashes of faces he’s certain he’s never seen before, of a life he’s never lived. At first he brushes it off, just a weird dream, he reasons, but every night, the dreams comes in different forms, each more vivid than the last one. His favorites ones are about a girl with the flower colored hair with the most breathtaking smile he had ever seen.
The first time he dreams of her, she is surrounded by falling petals, under the bright blue sky. Beautiful doesn’t even begin to describe her. But all good things come to the end, because by the time he takes a tentative step forward.
Towards her.
The scenery changes.
This time he’s sitting across a man with the most intense brows he had ever seen, hair the color of flames, wild and untamed.
“Tasty! Tasty! Tasty!” the man before him bellows at each bite of his meal. He tries to open his mouth, to engage in a conversation, to ask questions. But no words, come out. He tries clearing his throat, to try again, but by the time he musters up the words to say—
Obanai wakes up in cold sweat, grasping at his chest.
He feels sick to his stomach, the waves of nausea, causing him to wrestle out of his bedsheets and rush into the bathroom. He barely makes it to the toilet, where he empties the contents of his stomach, chunks of last night’s dinner tasting sour against his lips.
___
The dreams become a common reoccurrence. At first he thought it was a puberty thing, as it used to come at random, but then it started happening almost every night. His dreams are not always happy, sometimes they are nightmares of his past life.
Of his torture.
Of his suffering.
Of his demons.
Those nights always end up with him waking up crying hysterically and on worse nights, ending up in a panic attack. But he’s learned to get through it, he regularly sees therapist now and takes medicine for anxiety and he pretends that he just like everyone else, normal.
By the time he is twenty-one and freshly graduated, he moves to the big city to become a slave to capitalism. He rents out a decent, albeit small studio apartment a few blocks away from his corporate job and within walking distance from the market place.
He still has those dreams of his previous life but now they are few and far in between. Obanai’s glad for it, if he was being honest with himself. He still thinks of the beautiful woman with the strange hair and wonders how her story ends. He knows that she died many many years ago but he still hopes that she lived a happy life.
___
Obanai walks into the coffee shop fifteen minutes before his lunch break was supposed to end. He had been eyeing this place for a few days now ever since it had opened up two weeks ago and all his co-workers had been raving about it that he figured he should at least know what the fuss is about.
He makes his way to the counter and that’s when he sees her, his breath catches at his throat. His hand itches to rub at his eyes, to make sure he isn’t hallucinating.
She’s just a beautiful in his dreams as she is in real life, albeit a taller than what he expected.
She meets his gaze as he steps towards the counter, a happy greeting already on her lips. He finds that he cannot speak. She looks at him confused, head tilting slightly and asks for his order again when he clears his throat and orders a simple black coffee.
She visibly brightens, inputting his order and asking for his name.
“Iguro,” he manages to rasp out, watching her out of the corner of his eye, admiring what a lovely shade of green her eyes are and when she catches him looking, he averts his gaze. She flashes him a smile, telling him that his drink will be ready at the end of the counter. He nods stiffly, and by the time he’s shuffled over, she is already there, drink in hand. He takes it, flinching slightly when their fingers touch.
“Have a wonderful d—,” she starts to say, but he’s already walking towards the door.
___
She doesn’t remember him. Well, obviously, she wouldn’t, and he should have never expected her to. She was not bound to some past long forgotten, especially one concerning him.
And yet, why does his heart ache?
He shakes his head, as he takes a seat back at his desk, pulling up the files that he had been working on, eyeing the spreadsheets. He takes a sip at his coffee.
It was bitter.
Just like how he was feeling at the moment.
He leans his elbows in his desk, rubbing his hands over his temples, trying to fight off a migraine. He opens the top desk drawer and reaches in to grab an Ibuprofen, taking two and washing it down with the coffee.
Obanai sighs.
He needs to forget about her, he concludes, because what can he do? Guess he’ll just never goes back to that coffee shop ever again.
If Obanai was being honest with himself, he never really expected to ever see her, not in this lifetime anyways. He knows how their love story ends. It ends before it even begins.
He dies so she can live.
And he doesn’t want to hurt her again, doesn't want her to remember.
Not when he knows, that he’s already broken her heart once.
So, he chooses to break his own heart, instead.
“If we're incarnate as human beings into a world without demons, then I definitely tell you that I love you."
He throws away the coffee.