Chapter Text
When Rin haunts him, Nezha wishes she would leave, the weight of her presence unbearable.
When Rin haunts him, Nezha wishes she would stay, too terrified to face the emptiness without her.
When Rin haunts him, Nezha wishes he could be with her, the agony of loving her tearing him apart.
Nezha sat at his desk, the weight of silence pressed heavily against his chest, thick and suffocating, as moonlight fell in from the half-open window. He didn’t care about the endless reports and political matters strewn across his desk—everything felt distant. The quill in his hand trembled slightly as he signed yet another document, his mind wandering. His eyes traced the familiar shadows of his room, empty yet filled with an unshakable presence. He could feel it—her—just like the ghosts we cannot reach, slipping between the cracks in his mind.
Rin. His Rin.
Every so often, he would hear the faintest sound, like a soft laugh. It was a cruel trick his mind, or perhaps Rin herself had played on him over the past few months. It does sound like something she would enjoy. He had tried to tell himself it was just the wind, just the leaves falling from the trees, just the sound of children playing near the port, anything really, but he could recognize her laugh from a thousand miles away. He could never escape it, could never escape her. No matter how many days passed, how many walls he built between himself and his memories, her presence lingered. He could feel her, hear her, and all he thought about was her her her—
Because she was haunting him.
He clenched his fists, breathing deep, trying to banish her from his thoughts. But no matter how hard he tried, her face, her smile, her laughter, the way she had once looked at him would not fade. It haunted him—she haunted him, like a melody that would not leave, the notes rising and falling in the rhythm of his broken heart.
He exhaled sharply and rubbed his temples with the tips of his fingers, pressing hard against the growing headache. The ink on the documents before him had long since dried, his signature etched in unwavering strokes. He was exhausted—physically, mentally, emotionally. His body ached from the exhaustion, his mind frayed at the edges, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that the moment he closed his eyes, she would be there, waiting.
She always was.
Even if she wasn’t, not really, not anymore.
Nezha shut his eyes for a moment, but that only made it worse. Behind his eyelids, all he could see was her again, lifeless, sprawled in the sand of Speer, next to Kitay’s unmoving body. The image had been seared into him, carved so deep that no amount of time could wear it down. It should have faded by now. It should have blurred at the edges like all his other memories.
But it never did.
And neither did the feeling that followed—the sick, twisting feeling of guilt of knowing he had been the one to do it, not just to Rin, but to Kitay as well, in a way.
A short laugh rang through the room, that although light and fleeting, sounded similar to the sharp, cynical laugh that would always make him grin ear to ear.
His breath hitched.
It wasn’t real. It couldn’t be.
Why can’t she just leave me alone?
He let out a slow exhale, running a hand down his face. All he wanted was to sleep.
Nezha walked to his bed, the weight of the day settling heavily on his shoulders. His eyes fluttered shut as he sank into the sheets, the room dark and still—save for the haunting echo of her laughter that lingered in the air, teasing at the edges of his consciousness.
He barely noticed when exhaustion overtook him, pulling him down before he could even fight it.
At first, it was quiet.
Then he woke up and found himself standing somewhere unfamiliar. The air was thick with the scent of rain, the ground damp beneath his feet. The sky stretched in a muted gold above him, tinged with the soft glow of dusk. There was a faint glow in front of him and as he moved closer he saw her—no, a girl. Her back was to him, her figure slender and graceful. She looked like she was picking flowers.
He didn’t recognize her.
And yet, something in his chest ached.
He reached out, his fingers brushing against the air, but she was always just beyond his grasp.
The image flickered.
Suddenly, he wasn’t standing anymore—he was walking, slowly, alongside the same girl. Nezha could feel the heat of her presence next to him, the weight of her footsteps matching his own. Their shoulders nearly brushed, but they never touched. There was something strangely familiar about the space between them, the quiet ease of it. A warmth he couldn’t place. Something about the way she moved made his heart race.
He wanted to see her face.
But before he could catch a glimpse, the scene shifted again.
The dream before him blurred into something darker. Darkness, then blood. A lot of it. Blood, crimson and thick, dripping onto stone, sprayed across the walls, pooling in the cracks and underneath his feet. The air was suffocating, heavy with the metallic scent of death that he was oh too familiar with. The warmth from before was gone.
Nezha’s stomach twisted from the sight and the strong smell. He felt his breath catch in his throat as he stepped forward, his boots sinking into the blood-soaked earth. He tried to find the girl from earlier. He didn’t know who she was, but something about her called him to her. But the harder he tried, the further everything seemed to slip away.
The dream twisted, and for a fleeting moment, he thought he saw Rin’s lifeless body next to Kitay’s, both of them cold and unmoving. He felt a tightness in his chest, but he couldn’t pull his gaze away. He stepped closer, but as he did, the image shifted once more, the faces of his fallen friends blurring into a pool of blood. His heart raced, and then—
He woke with a sharp gasp.
His heart was hammering in his chest as though he had just run a marathon. His sheets were tangled around him, clenched in his fists. His skin was damp with sweat and his breaths came fast and uneven, his pulse thrumming loud in his ears. The dream was already slipping from his mind, but the feeling remained. The air in the room felt thick, the weight of the dream still lingering like a dark cloud pressing down on him.
It took a moment for him to fully regain his senses, his eyes scanning the room in a haze. The faint sounds of the outside world drifted in—a bird’s call, the rustling of leaves—but none of it mattered. He rubbed his face, willing himself to shake off the images that clung to him like a second skin.
Rin, the lifelessness in her eyes, the pool of blood that seemed to stretch endlessly, it all felt too real. Too close. Too suffocating. His chest tightened and his eyes burned as he thought of her, of everything they had been through, the words left unsaid, the choices that had broken them. He couldn’t escape her, no matter how hard he tried. His mind shifted suddenly to that woman in his dream. Who was she? Why was she in Nezha’s dream, what does she have to do with him?
He didn’t understand it.
But he knew somehow, that it wasn’t just a dream. And he knew this was only just the beginning.