I don't know how long I had been in that cell.
Weeks. Months.
A lifetime.
It all blurred together into an endless stretch of darkness, the weight of chains on my wrists, the sickly sweet lullabies of my captor, and the sharp bite of steel carving away at my body, little by little.
I had nothing left—nothing but the act.
Sayuri loved the act.
She loved the trembling in my voice, the way I shuddered when she touched me, the way I whispered to her like I was a dying man gasping for affection.
And tonight, I made my final move.
"Sayuri... let me hold you beneath the stars." My voice was soft, raw with devotion. "Just once… under the open sky. Let me feel you in the moonlight."
She trembled in my grasp, those fragile fingers gripping mine like I was something precious.
She bit her lip, eyes wide with something close to tears. "You really mean it?"
I lifted my head, letting her see the way my face softened, the way my lips trembled just slightly. "I do."
She exhaled, smiling so bright, so happy.
She led me out of the cell, her fingers laced with mine, never knowing that beneath my touch, my fingers ached for her throat.
That with every step I took, my mind whispered kill kill kill in a rhythm that matched my breath.
And then we passed the kitchen.
I moved.
My body was sluggish, weak from months of starvation and drugging, but desperation lent me speed.
I lunged for the knives, my fingers curling around the cold steel.
She barely had time to react before I swung.
The blade sliced across her face, cutting from her cheek to her temple.
She screamed.
Her hands flew up, blood spilling between her fingers.
"H-Hayato?! What—"
I didn't listen... I swung again.....Harder.
The knife bit into the soft flesh of her nose, carving it in half.
Another gash ran down to her lips, splitting them in two.
Her cries turned to shrieks.
She staggered back, blood streaming down her ruined face, her breaths ragged and uneven.
"No… no, not you too…" she sobbed, clutching at the mess I had made of her. "It can't end like this…?"
I almost laughed.
The knife slipped from my fingers, slick with blood.
My grip was too weak.
It clattered to the floor.
Before I could reach for it, she pounced.
She snatched the blade, her hands shaking so violently she could barely hold it.
Tears streaked through the blood on her cheeks.
"Why… why do you all betray me?" Her voice broke, thick with sorrow.
"I loved you!"
Then she lunged.
The knife plunged into my gut, sinking in deep.
I roared.
Pain burst through me, but it didn't matter.
I tackled her to the floor, slamming my elbow into her throat with every ounce of strength I had left.
She wheezed, choking, but her hands still moved, stabbing wildly.
I felt the blade pierce me again and again—my stomach, my ribs, the side of my waist.
I didn't care.
I reached up—fingers curling like claws—
And dug them into her eyes.
She shrieked.
Her body twisted beneath me, nails raking down my face, but I pushed deeper.
Something ruptured beneath my fingertips.
Hot, wet liquid gushed over my hands.
She howled, thrashing, her hands scrabbling for anything—
The knife slashed blindly, cutting across my left eye.
A searing burn tore through my vision, a flash of white-hot agony—
I didn't stop.
My fingers drove deeper reaching her brain gripping it with the two fingers i pulled with all my strength oulling a peice of her brain out of the eye socket.
Her body spasmed beneath me.
Then—stillness.
The knife slipped from her grasp, hitting the floor with a hollow sound.
I sucked in a breath.
Then I reached for it.
And I started hacking.
"Hhah...Hahahah..HAHAHAH"
My laughter rang through the room, raw, broken, and delirious.
I drove the knife into her throat over and over, reveling in the wet crunch of bone, the warmth of her blood splattering against my skin.
I carved and carved and carved until her head was barely hanging by a thread of flesh.
And then— Silence.
My breath was ragged, my limbs heavy.
Pain flooded me, slow and creeping.
I was bleeding out.
Something in my stomach twisted—my body wavering, unsteady.
From the corner of my eye, I saw them.
Servants.
Standing in the doorway.
Frozen.
Wide-eyed.
Then they turned and ran.
Cowards.
I pushed myself up, staggering.
Step by step, I walked.
I left the room, left the corpse behind, left the house that had been my prison.
The night air hit me like ice, the scent of blood thick in my nose....
I had made a promise to myself in that prison, ' even if I were to die I'll die in the open air of the world.'
I took another step.
Another.
And then—
My knees buckled.
The ground rose to meet me, hard and unforgiving.
My blood pooled beneath me, warm and sticky.
My fingers twitched.
My body shook.
I'm free...I'm dying.
Nothing left.
No thoughts.
No feelings.
Just— Done.
---
The night was quiet except for the faint whisper of wind.
Blood pooled around the broken body on the street, seeping into the dirt, painting it a deep crimson.
His chest barely moved.
His face was a mess—blood dripping from a torn left eye, fresh cuts marring his already battered skin.
Wounds covered him—stab wounds, deep gashes that leaked slow, warm death onto the cold ground.
And yet, for a moment, it almost looked like he was smiling.
Then—
A figure loomed over him, golden hair catching the dim moonlight.
She swayed slightly, a sake bottle dangling between two fingers.
She crouched, peering down at him with a lazy, lopsided smile.
"You need help?" she asked, voice soft.
The dying Man didn't answer.
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Power Stones and Reviews please