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Iroha walked alone in the darkness for a long time.
There wasn’t a speck of light to be found and no end in sight. She dragged her feet forward, feeling like something was wrapped around them and pulling her backwards. She couldn’t even tell if she was moving forward.
Where was she? Was she going to be trapped in this abyss forever? Where was everyone else, Sana, Felicia, and Tsuruno?
Was someone crying right now? Were they in trouble? Were they reaching out for help?
She had to escape. She had to find the others. In this fragile and cruel world that could utterly collapse at a minute’s notice, she would lose them forever if she didn’t hurry.
However, no matter how much she struggled, she couldn’t escape her constraints. No matter how much she strained, she couldn’t see ahead of her. She was stuck; she couldn’t stay stuck. Even someone as weak as her had to be of some use as long as she kept trying…
However—
Is- Is there someone-
Is there someone out there who can save me…?
She was about to drown in fear. The future she couldn’t see was approaching, the end that she couldn’t forestall which would shatter her. She felt it coming, a life of having nothing, nothing to hold onto, nothing remaining, just her and herself. But the more she felt this, the more it was as if she were being torn into pieces that dissolved in the darkness.
Save me. I’m so afraid. Someone, save me.
One name stuck in her throat, as if her mouth were stopped, and she couldn’t call it out. A cobalt light suddenly flashed ahead of her, flickering in and out like a star. Like a drowning man grasping at straws, she sprinted towards that blue radiance, gradually closing in on it until she could almost touch it. Instead, scarlet blanketed her surroundings and violently swallowed up her and that ray of light.
Iroha stopped.
She could see Nanami Yachiyo now.
And she could see the sword in her throat.
Having lost its shine from the blood splattered during the entry into her neck, the tip of the sword was covered in scraps of organic matter. It had went clean through her spine and pierced deep into the backrest behind her, almost like a metal platter upon which her almost-decapitated head rested. It had taken away her control of her body, her ability to pull out the blade that pinned her to the spot, and her means of crying for help.
Her cut-up face, lost of its former perfection, was turned towards Iroha at a strange angle, like a doll broken and cursed in a horror movie. Only, her eyes—those glassy orbs that should have been dulled by the pain and horror of being at death’s door—instead shone with a radiance as gentle as the sea, easily bringing out the love in Iroha. Yachiyo was calm and vulnerable in the last moments of her life, seated upright in her own tomb like the master of her end. She looked at Iroha with a lover’s gaze. Despite how dried blood should have sealed them shut, her lips slightly opened and closed, the parched skin peeling off as crimson trickled out of her nose and mouth, like pooling tears of blood. And then, Iroha finally understood what Yachiyo was trying her hardest to say with complete disregard for her own life:
Go.
Iroha, go.
No. No, she didn’t want to. She wanted to run up and do what she could, to pull out that implement torturing Yachiyo and heal her battered body until it was restored. They would live. She wanted to yell at her to not lose hope—
But fetters snaked up from every direction, binding her hands and feet, wrapping around her waist, and they tugged her back to somewhere she couldn’t see, preventing her from approaching Yachiyo. Were they smooth, golden ribbons or coarse, bone-white strips of cloth? She didn’t care. She only wanted to reach her as soon as possible: Don’t stop me!
She’s-
Yachiyo-san is-
Yachiyo-san’s crying!
She scratched at her face, attempting to tear away the ribbons or cloth covering it. But the freezing, abnormal bindings continued to snatch away her voice, then her breath, until the fabric completely sealed off her vision. The last thing Iroha saw before she was dragged into the darkness again was a downpour of blades hurtling from the sky.
The final sword to fall pierced the soul gem resting on Yachiyo’s chest.
She could finally scream—
“Iroha!”
Iroha’s eyes shot open. She was shaking all over and chills ran up and down her body.
“Everything’s alright, Iroha. That was just a dream. You’re awake now.”
“Yachiyo-san…” Hollow eyes vacantly searched for Yachiyo’s figure. Iroha couldn’t concentrate on anything until a curtain of blue entered her vision, glowing softly as it caught the moonlight entering the room through a crack in the window. Yachiyo’s caring and faintly uneasy expression gradually came into focus.
“Yachiyo-san…” Iroha said again, slowly releasing her other hand which had gone numb from her death grip. She gingerly reached towards that person who was right by her side and gently watching her.
Yachiyo never tore her gaze away from Iroha, only looked deep into her pink pupils that were still clouded with abject terror. She inched closer so that Iroha could reach her more easily.
Cool fingers with a hint of moisture touched upon flawless, porcelain skin. They gently felt along her warm cheeks, as if searching for a blade-inflicted wound oozing even hotter liquid. Then, they slowly traveled down, past her chin, until at last, Iroha’s entire hand rested on Yachiyo’s throat.
“I’m right here, Iroha.” As Yachiyo finally spoke again, the vibrations from her intact vocal cords pulsated directly against Iroha’s palm. They bypassed skin and cartilage to seep into Iroha’s bones, gradually calming down her wildly beating heart. Yachiyo kept one arm pillowed under Iroha’s head, as it had been since she fell asleep. With her other hand, she stroked the back of Iroha’s head a while longer to comfort her and then moved to cover the back of Iroha’s hand. The warmth almost burned, as if Iroha was next to a fire. Yachiyo’s dark blue hair and eyes, as well as her pale skin, gave the impression she was frigid inside and out. But once you got close to her, you could feel Yachiyo’s body blazing like a campfire on a freezing night, her heat just as fiery as her real self that she kept buried deep under layers of ice.
Iroha often felt a burning pain when she thought of that heat. The more she pursued her, the more she understood how fragile that flame that resiliently cast light on the path ahead was. It was so fragile that it had always been confined to the past in a lantern’s tiny glass cage. It was so fragile that it would be utterly snuffed out in a storm and lost to the darkness if she didn’t cup it in her hands. So when Yachiyo firmly pressed her hand against Iroha’s, seemingly uncaring of the pressure mounting on her throat, Iroha broke free and then flipped her hand around to interlock their fingers.
“…You didn’t sleep, Yachiyo-san?”
She felt a tremor through their conjoined hands, yet Yachiyo still tried to cover things up, “No, I just… happened to wake up.”
“You liar.” She brought her other hand up to Yachiyo’s eyes. Yachiyo seemed too surprised and thus didn’t avoid it, instead instinctively blinking. Her long eyelashes swept over Iroha’s fingertips, causing a burst of electric tingling. Iroha only lightly stroked the area below her eyelids, feeling the dryness and slightly abnormal elevation in temperature. Yachiyo had probably found it difficult to fall asleep. When she finally managed to relax enough for it, she would have roused herself from her immense drowsiness, restless at being unable to see Iroha and unwilling to leave her. Thus, she kept watch over the girl next to her, rubbing her eyes over and over whenever they sought to close.
“…In my dream,” Iroha pulled her hand back, seeing that Yachiyo had shrunk away and ducked her head after being read like a book. She then put it over their already interlocked fingers. Tightly holding Yachiyo’s hand, she brought it up to her chest like she was praying. “I could hear my heartbeat, because it was so quiet.”
“Despite being by myself, it was loud, so loud that I felt I couldn’t escape it. I knew that I couldn’t die, but that sound made me feel like I was losing everything. There was nothing to hold onto, nothing that would remain.”
“Yachiyo-san, I’ll never be able to let go of your hand again.”
Giving everything she had, accepting everything given to her—with just that, it felt like she could fill in the sense of self she had been lacking all this time. Once before, she let go of Yachiyo’s hand for her sake and ended up causing her unquantifiable harm. She would never be arrogant enough to assume she could understand how devastated Yachiyo was when she saw Iroha fall into that pit. But she had felt that unbearable fear of being ignored, called forth from just a single moment of being empty-handed after becoming used to the warmth of having her hand held. She finally realized she valued her bonds with others far more than she knew, realized she absolutely didn’t want to let go of the relationships she had formed. Once she had a taste of happiness, she couldn’t stand the possibility of losing it all.
Iroha was actually a rather greedy, even cowardly child.
But despite that—
Yachiyo suddenly tightened her grip around Iroha’s body, forcefully pulling Iroha into her embrace. Their intertwined hands were enveloped between them. Their bare, naked bodies stuck together, seemingly about to melt into each other and never separate. With their hearts directly adjacent to each other, the thumping of their hearts merged together, calming and in pleasant harmony.
—Despite that, someone out there would chase her down, no matter how deep the abyss stretched. Someone out there still believed in her courage even when she was at her weakest and wallowing in a fake perfection, even opening up about the weaknesses and sorrows they usually never revealed.
Even if the night terrors might strike again in the dark of night, consuming their dreams during their rare moment of rest, the two of them finally fell asleep peacefully. They embraced each other and tightly held hands, small, relaxed smiles on their faces. There was no need for a fake cloth doll in their nightmares, because they could break through the hardships and tragedies as long as they were with each other. Their sweet dreams were no longer just dreams, but a tactile reality.
No matter how long the night lasted, the moon and stars would still light up each other in the dark. Then, as dawn approached-
The sun would rise once more.