Kiba POV
The world dissolved.
One moment Kiba stood in the underground chamber, his sword manifesting in his hand as he prepared to fight alongside his allies. The next, reality twisted sideways, colors bleeding into each other like watercolors in rain.
When his vision cleared, he was somewhere else entirely.
The kendo hall at Kuoh Academy stretched before him, afternoon sunlight streaming through the high windows to paint golden squares across the polished wooden floor. The familiar scent of wood polish and sweat filled his nostrils. His hand held a bamboo practice sword, the weight comfortable and familiar.
Across from him stood Toshio, also holding a bokken, a slight smile on his face.
"You up for a spar?" Toshio asked, rolling his shoulders in that casual way he always did before practice.
Yuuto blinked, confusion flickering through his thoughts for just a moment. Hadn't they been... somewhere else? Underground, fighting demons?
But the memory slipped away like water through his fingers. Of course they were in the kendo hall. Where else would they be?
"Always," Yuuto replied, falling into his stance. The bamboo sword felt right in his hands, an extension of his will.
They circled each other, footwork precise on the familiar floor.
Toshio struck first, his bokken coming in fast and clean. Kiba parried, the sharp crack of wood on wood echoing through the hall. They exchanged blows in rapid succession, the rhythm of combat as natural as breathing.
Block, counter, sidestep, thrust.
His body moved through the familiar patterns without conscious thought.
Toshio pressed harder than usual, his attacks carrying more force. Sweat began to bead on Kiba's forehead as he adapted, adjusted his defense, found the openings in his friend's assault.
This was good. This felt right. Just two warriors testing themselves against each other, pushing their limits in the safety of the practice hall.
Yuuto moved in for a strike, bringing his bokken down in an overhead blow. Toshio raised his weapon to parry—
And when their eyes met, it wasn't Toshio's face looking back at him.
The boy was young, maybe twelve or thirteen. His face was gaunt, cheekbones too prominent beneath pale skin. His eyes were hollow, empty of everything except accusation.
Yuuto knew that face.
His bokken clattered to the floor.
The sound echoed wrong, too loud, stretching out impossibly long. The golden afternoon light flickered, dimmed, and became something sickly and gray.
"No," Yuuto whispered, his hands beginning to shake. "No, you're not—this isn't—"
The boy tilted his head, still holding the practice sword in hands that were too thin, bones visible beneath translucent skin. When he spoke, his voice was flat, empty of inflection.
"Are you up for a spar?"
But the words carried weight they shouldn't have. Carried accusation instead of friendship.
Yuuto stepped backward, his heel catching on something. He stumbled but caught himself, his eyes darting around the kendo hall. The sunlight was gone now, replaced by harsh fluorescent lighting that buzzed overhead. The polished wooden floor looked darker, stained.
And there were others.
They stood along the walls of the hall, over a dozen children, all watching him with those same hollow eyes. All wearing the white hospital gowns from the facility. All bearing the marks of what had been done to them.
Holy energy scarring. Surgical wounds that had never properly healed.
Yuuto's breath came faster, his chest tightening. He knew these faces. Every single one of them. He had memorized them in his nightmares, in the guilt that haunted his waking hours.
The children from the Holy Sword Project.
The ones who hadn't survived.
"You were always up for a spar," one of them said, a girl with burns covering half her face.
"You were always strong," another added, his arm hanging at an unnatural angle.
"Why weren't you strong for us?" A third voice, younger, barely more than a whisper.
"I tried," Yuuto forced the words out, his throat tight. "I tried to save you, I—"
But they took a synchronized step forward, and the kendo hall rippled around them like water disturbed by a stone. The walls stretched, the ceiling rose higher, and the floor beneath his feet became uncertain.
He tried to back away, but his legs wouldn't respond properly. The wooden sword he'd dropped was gone. The exit doors had vanished, leaving only stone walls that pressed inward.
"I'm sorry," Yuuto said, and hated how his voice cracked. "I'm so sorry, I wanted to—"
The boy who'd worn Toshio's face stepped closer. "You got out."
"I didn't mean to—"
"You survived." Another child, this one missing an eye.
"You ran." A girl whose hands were black with frostbite.
"We were gassed." Multiple voices now, overlapping.
"We were slaughtered."
"You left us behind."
The kendo hall flickered again, and suddenly it wasn't the kendo hall at all. The polished wood became cold metal. The high windows dissolved into harsh fluorescent tubes. The practice weapons vanished, replaced by surgical equipment and restraint tables.
The experimentation chamber. The place where they'd all suffered, where so many had died.
Yuuto's knees buckled. He caught himself against one of the tables, the metal cold against his palms, and the touch sent memories crashing through him. Straps cutting into his wrists. Holy energy burning through his body. The screams of the other children echoing off sterile walls.
"No," he gasped out. "This isn't real. This isn't—"
But it felt real. The cold of the metal, the chemical smell in the air, the way his body remembered the pain even though no one was hurting him now.
One of the children climbed onto a table. The straps cinched around their limbs on their own, tightening with mechanical precision. The child didn't struggle, just lay there staring at Yuuto with those empty, accusing eyes.
Scalpels floated in the air, cutting into his arms, chest, and legs, releasing far too much blood.
Another picked up a broken fragment of a holy sword, the blade still glowing faintly with divine energy that made Yuuto's skin crawl.
A third whispered his old name, over and over. "Isaiah. Isaiah. Isaiah."
"I didn't want to leave you," he said, and his voice sounded small and broken. "I didn't want to survive alone, I—"
"But you did."
"You got out."
"We didn't."
"Why?"
"Why did you live?"
"Why were you special?"
"Why weren't we?"
The questions came faster, overlapping, building into a cacophony that made his head pound. Yuuto pressed his hands against his ears, but it didn't help. The voices came from inside his own mind, echoing through every guilty thought he'd ever had.
Movement at the edge of his vision. The smallest girl from the project—he remembered her name was Sayuri—emerged from behind one of the tables. She dragged her damaged leg with each step, the joint twisted from failed holy energy enhancement procedures.
She reached toward him with a trembling hand, her face so young, so innocent despite everything they'd done to her.
"Why didn't you save us, Yuuto?" Tears streamed from her broken eyes.
The question broke something inside him. His legs finally gave out completely, and he collapsed to his knees on the cold floor. Tears burned his eyes and spilled down his cheeks.
"I couldn't," he choked out. "I was just a child too, I couldn't save you, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry—" He sobbed, unable to take his eyes off the small girl. A scalpel materialized in her hand, slowly descending down on Yuuto's neck.
Just when she was about to penetrate skin, the children froze. All of them, simultaneously, their heads turning in perfect unison toward the doorway.
Footsteps echoed through the chamber, measured and deliberate.
A woman stepped into view, and even through his tears, Yuuto could tell she was impossibly beautiful in a way that felt wrong, like every curve and feature had been designed for maximum impact.
She walked between the frozen children, trailing one finger along Sayuri's chin, tilting the little girl's face upward.
"All it takes is one memory," the woman said, her voice silk over steel, "and your whole world collapses."
She smiled, and it was the cruelest thing Yuuto had ever seen.
"What delicious horror~" she licked her lips in pleasure. She slowly stepped back from the crying Yuuto. The children, now with purple poisoned skin, were suddenly surrounding him, all holding either a broken holy sword or scalpel.
Then he showed up.
"Don't worry, little Isaiah, I'll heal whatever damage they may cause. Can't have you dying too soon now, can we?"
Valper.
"Children~" Yuuto slowly turned his head from the smiling man and toward the fading sign-song voice, his tears never stopping, terror etched on his face.
"Go play."
The children lurched forward as one, their hollow eyes fixed on him, ready to carve his flesh.
Rias POV
I woke standing in my bedroom at the Gremory estate.
The familiar crimson curtains framed floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the gardens. Moonlight spilled across the polished hardwood floor, painting everything in shades of silver and shadow. The massive four-poster bed I'd slept in since childhood dominated one wall, its deep red sheets perfectly made.
Everything was exactly as it should be.
Yet something felt wrong.
I pressed my palm against my temple, trying to remember how I'd gotten here. We'd been underground, hadn't we? In that chamber beneath the shrine, facing the demon who'd captured Yasaka-sama...
The memory slipped away like smoke through my fingers. Of course I was home. Where else would I be?
A soft knock at my door drew my attention.
"Come in," I called, smoothing my nightgown automatically. The silk felt cool against my skin.
The door opened, and my breath caught.
Toshio stepped inside, closing the door quietly behind him. He wore simple clothes—a dark shirt and pants—but something about the way he moved made my heart rate pick up. There was purpose in his posture and determination in the set of his shoulders.
"Rias," he said, and my name on his lips sent warmth spreading through my chest. "I needed to see you."
I smiled, moving closer. "I'm glad you're here. I was just thinking about—"
"I have something for you." He reached into his pocket and produced a small wrapped box.
My fingers trembled slightly as I took it from him. The wrapping was elegant, the weight substantial. I looked up at him, searching his face for some hint of what this meant.
"Open it," he said softly.
I unwrapped it carefully, my mind already racing with possibilities. When I lifted the lid, I found a simple silver ring nestled in velvet.
My breath stopped completely.
The ring was beautiful in its simplicity—a band of silver etched with tiny runes that glowed faintly in the moonlight. It looked like something meant to be worn forever, meant to symbolize...
"Toshio, is this—" I looked up at him, hope blooming so intensely in my chest it hurt. "Are you—"
"I wanted to return this to you before I go."
The words hit me like a physical blow.
I blinked, confusion cutting through the joy. "Return it? I don't understand, I never gave you—"
But even as I spoke, a memory surfaced. Me, presenting this ring to him months ago. Asking him—no, begging him—to accept it. To accept me.
How had I forgotten that?
"This isn't for me," Toshio said, and his voice was kind but emotionless, like he was explaining something simple to a child. "You should give it to someone who wants you."
The room felt colder suddenly. I looked down at the ring in my hands, at the symbol of everything I'd hoped for, and felt something crack inside my chest.
"I don't understand," I whispered. "Toshio, I thought we—"
"She's always wanted too much."
I spun around. Akeno stood by the window, her arms crossed, her expression completely neutral. She'd appeared without me hearing her enter, but that wasn't what made my stomach drop.
It was the flatness in her violet eyes. The absence of warmth.
"Akeno?" My voice came out uncertain. "What are you—"
"She clings," Akeno continued, as if I hadn't spoken. "She demands. It's exhausting, really."
"That's not fair," I said, but my voice sounded weak even to my own ears. "I've never—"
"You chase people so they won't leave." Akeno tilted her head, studying me like I was an interesting specimen. "But they still do. They always do."
I turned back to Toshio, desperate for him to contradict her, to tell me this was wrong. But when I looked at him, his face had changed.
His features were blurring, dissolving like wet paint running down a canvas. The dark hair remained, the general shape of him, but his face became indistinct, featureless.
When he spoke, his voice was layered with others—my brother's deep tones, my mother's disappointed sigh, and echoes of everyone I'd ever feared disappointing.
"You were never enough."
The bedroom walls stretched outward, pulling away from me like elastic. The furniture vanished piece by piece—first the bed, then the dresser, then the curtains. The floor beneath my feet extended impossibly in all directions until I stood alone in a vast empty space.
Then the space filled.
I was standing in the center of a massive ballroom. Gremory colors draped from the vaulted ceiling. Gremory sigils gleamed in gold on every pillar. Massive chandeliers cast harsh light that left no shadows to hide in.
And surrounding me in a perfect circle were devils. Every noble family I'd ever met. Every member of high society who'd ever judged me, evaluated me, and found me wanting.
Their faces were fixed, cold, and judgmental. They didn't speak, but I heard their voices anyway—whispers that swirled through the air like smoke.
"She couldn't keep Riser."
"She failed her house."
"Beautiful, but hollow."
"She wanted love—how foolish."
"She expects to be chosen."
I tried to speak, tried to defend myself, but my throat had closed. No sound came out when I opened my mouth. The whispers grew louder and more insistent, pressing against my skull.
Movement caught my eye. Toshio appeared at the edge of the circle. Then Akeno beside him. Then Koneko, her expression as flat as Akeno's had been. Then Kiba, looking through me rather than at me.
My peerage. My friends. The people I'd fought beside, bled beside, and trusted with my life.
All of them turning their backs.
"No," I tried to say, but still no sound emerged. I ran toward them, my feet carrying me across the polished ballroom floor, but they were already walking away. Disappearing into the crowd of nobles who parted to let them through.
I reached Toshio last. He paused and almost turned back.
"You choose people who don't choose you," he said quietly. "I won't be one of them."
He stepped backward into the crowd, and then he was gone.
I stood alone in the center of the ballroom, surrounded by hundreds of devils who watched me with cold eyes and colder judgment. My chest felt tight, my breathing shallow. The ring was still in my hand—when had I clutched it so tightly?—and its edges cut into my palm.
A platform rose from the floor behind me. I turned, dread already pooling in my stomach, knowing what I would see.
Riser stood there in full ceremonial robes, his golden wings spread wide. Beside him was a woman I didn't recognize, beautiful and demure, smiling at him with obvious adoration. The kind of smile I'd never give him.
He looked out at the assembled nobles and laughed, that theatrical, grating laugh I'd learned to hate during our brief engagement.
"Look!" His voice carried across the entire ballroom. "She thought she was worth choosing!"
The nobles laughed. All of them, simultaneously, the sound building into something deafening that made my head pound.
I wanted to run, wanted to scream, wanted to use my Power of Destruction to obliterate this entire nightmare. But I couldn't move, couldn't speak, could only stand there while they laughed and laughed and—
Movement on the platform drew my eyes back.
My peerage and Toshio knelt there now, all of them, bound and gagged. Akeno's violet eyes were wide with terror. Koneko struggled against her restraints. Kiba's face was pale. And Toshio stared at me with eyes of disgust.
"Execute them," Riser said casually, waving one hand. "I have no need for that worthless bag of tits' pathetic friends."
"No!" I finally found my voice, but it came out wrong, distorted, weak. "Please, don't—"
My brother materialized beside Riser. Sirzechs looked at me with disappointment etched into every line of his face. Then he raised his hand, and the Power of Destruction gathered in his palm.
I watched, frozen, as my brother's destructive power gathered in his palm—that crimson energy I knew so well, that I'd inherited from him. The energy that was supposed to protect our family, our legacy.
He turned it on the people I loved.
The blast struck Koneko first. Her small body disintegrated instantly, reduced to nothing in a flash of red light. No scream or words, just... gone.
"No!" I tried to run forward, but my legs wouldn't move. My body refused to obey, locked in place by some invisible force.
Akeno was next. Her violet eyes found mine in that final second, and I saw betrayal there. Betrayal that I hadn't saved her, that I'd let this happen. Then the Power of Destruction consumed her too.
Kiba didn't even look at me. He kept his gaze fixed on the floor as the energy vaporized him.
Toshio was last. He stared at me with such disgust, such profound disappointment, that it hurt worse than watching him die. When Sirzechs's power hit him, I felt something inside me shatter completely.
The nobles' laughter grew louder. Deafening. It filled every corner of the ballroom, pressed against my skull until I thought my head would split open.
Riser's voice cut through the noise. "Did you really think anyone would stay with you? That anyone could love the failure of the Gremory family? Did you really think you could have freedom?"
I collapsed to my knees, the ring falling from my numb fingers to clatter across the polished floor. Tears streamed down my face, but I couldn't make a sound. My voice was gone again, stolen, leaving me with nothing but silent screaming.
The crowd began to recede. Slowly at first, then faster, pulling away from me in all directions. The nobles, the platform, Riser and his bride, even my brother, all of them retreating into darkness that swallowed them whole.
I was alone. Completely, utterly alone in an empty void that stretched forever in every direction.
Footsteps echoed behind me.
I turned, still on my knees, and saw her approaching. The woman from the chamber—Aeshama. She wore my wedding gown. The one I'd imagined wearing if I ever married Toshio. The white silk looked obscene on her, corrupted somehow just by touching her skin.
She knelt in front of me, her golden eyes studying my face with obvious pleasure. One perfectly manicured finger reached out to brush my cheek, wiping away a tear.
"You crave love and freedom more desperately than any of them know," she said, her voice soft and almost gentle. Almost kind. "And yet... you still believe that you'll have either?"
Her smile turned cruel.
"Let me show you what it feels like with neither."
The void around us shifted. The cruel woman vanished. A steel cage clamped down on me, there being barely enough room for fetal position.
I cried. I tried to scream. Tried to ask why.
But my voice never returned.
Akeno POV
I woke in darkness so complete it felt like drowning.
My eyes were open—I could feel my lashes against my cheeks when I blinked—but there was nothing. No light, no shapes, no distinction between the void ahead and the void behind. Just absolute, suffocating black.
I tried to move and couldn't. My arms were pinned at my sides, my legs pressed together. Something cold and unyielding enclosed me completely, touching every inch of my body from shoulders to ankles.
A coffin. I was in a coffin.
Panic clawed up my throat, but I forced it down through sheer willpower. This wasn't real. It couldn't be real. We'd been in that underground chamber, facing that sexy demon woman that I wanted to punish…
The memory slipped away like water through my fingers. I grasped for it desperately, but the harder I tried to remember, the faster it faded until I was left with nothing but the crushing darkness and the cold metal pressed against my skin.
I pushed against the lid above me. It didn't budge. Not even a millimeter of give. I pushed harder, channeling my demonic energy, but nothing happened. My power felt... distant. Like trying to grab something through thick gloves.
"Help!" I called out, and my voice echoed wrong in the confined space. Loud and close, bouncing back at me from inches away. "Someone help me!"
No response. Just silence and darkness and the feeling of the walls pressing closer.
I forced myself to breathe slowly, methodically. In through my nose, out through my mouth. This was fine. I was fine. Someone would find me. Rias would notice I was missing. Toshio would sense something was wrong with his energy perception. They'd come for me.
They had to come for me.
Time passed. I couldn't tell how much. Seconds? Minutes?
With each breath the air seemed to grow thicker, harder to pull into my lungs. The darkness pressed against my eyes until I saw spots of color that weren't really there.
Then I heard it. A voice, muffled but recognizable.
"Akeno?"
My heart leaped. "Toshio! I'm here! I'm trapped, I can't—"
"Where are you?" His voice sounded distant, like he was calling from far away. "I can't find you."
"I don't know! It's dark, I'm in some kind of box, I—"
"I'm looking for you." Footsteps echoed somewhere above me. "Keep talking so I can find you."
"I'm here!" I called out, relief flooding through me so intensely it made me dizzy. "Please, I'm right here, just—"
The footsteps faded.
"Toshio?" My voice cracked. "Toshio, where are you going? Come back!"
Silence answered me.
I pushed against the lid again, harder this time, channeling every ounce of strength I had. The metal didn't budge. I couldn't feel my lightning anymore and couldn't access the power that had always been as natural as breathing.
"Please," I whispered into the darkness. "Please don't leave me here."
More footsteps. Multiple sets this time. I recognized Rias's lighter tread, Koneko's careful movements, and even Kiba's measured pace.
"Help!" I screamed, slamming my palms against the lid. "I'm here! Please!"
They walked right past me. I heard them clearly, heard Rias saying something about searching the perimeter, and heard their voices fade into the distance.
They couldn't hear me. Or they could hear me and didn't care.
The thought sent ice through my veins. What if they'd decided I wasn't worth saving? What if Rias had finally grown tired of my games, my flirtation, and my need for attention? What if Toshio had realized I was too damaged, too twisted, too much work?
"No," I said aloud, trying to convince myself. "They wouldn't. They're looking for me. They're—"
A new sound cut through my denial. Shoveling. The rhythmic thunk of a blade hitting earth, the scrape of dirt being moved.
Someone was digging.
Hope surged through me again. "I'm here! I'm down here!"
The shoveling continued, steady and methodical. Closer now. Right above me, maybe just a few feet of earth between us.
"Thank you," I breathed, tears of relief stinging my eyes. "Thank you, thank you—"
The first shovelful of dirt hit the lid with a dull thud.
Then another. And another.
My breath caught. "Wait. Wait, what are you—"
More dirt. A steady rain of it now, piling on top of the coffin. The sound changed as the layer grew thicker and became more muffled.
"Stop!" I screamed, pounding on the lid with both fists. "You're going the wrong way! I'm already buried! STOP!"
But the shoveling didn't stop. It continued with mechanical precision, each load of earth adding weight to the coffin, pressing down, making the metal groan softly.
They were burying me deeper.
I screamed until my throat was raw, until my voice gave out completely and all I could manage were hoarse gasps. My fists ached from pounding uselessly against unyielding metal. The air grew thinner with each breath, harder to pull into my burning lungs.
The shoveling finally stopped.
Footsteps walked away, fading into nothing.
I lay in the darkness, chest heaving, tears streaming down my face into my hair. The silence was complete now. No voices, no movement, nothing but my own ragged breathing and the frantic pounding of my heart.
They'd left me here. Buried me alive and walked away.
Time stretched. My oxygen-starved brain began playing tricks, I saw lights that weren't there, heard whispers in languages I didn't understand. My body alternated between burning hot and freezing cold.
Then the coffin lid opened.
Light flooded in, so bright after the endless darkness that it felt like knives in my eyes. I squeezed them shut, gasping, trying to process what was happening.
Strong hands grabbed my arms and pulled me upward. I couldn't resist, couldn't do anything but let myself be dragged from the coffin into—
Not daylight. Not the underground chamber.
A bedroom. Familiar in a way that made my stomach drop.
My childhood bedroom in my father's estate. The one I'd fled from when I joined Rias's peerage. The one I'd sworn never to return to.
I stood on trembling legs, my vision still adjusting. The room was exactly as I remembered it. Traditional furnishings, sliding doors, and the view of the gardens through the window. Everything was perfect and pristine and utterly lifeless.
"Welcome home, Akeno."
I spun around, my heart in my throat.
My father stood in the doorway. Baraqiel, the Fallen Angel, leader of Grigori's military forces. His dark wings were folded against his back, his expression unreadable as he looked at me.
"No," I said, my voice hoarse from screaming. "I'm not—this isn't—"
"I've been waiting for you." He stepped into the room, closing the door behind him. "You've been gone so long. Playing devil with that Gremory girl. Pretending you're something you're not."
"I am a devil," I forced out, trying to summon my power, my wings, anything. Nothing responded. "Rias reincarnated me. I'm part of her peerage. I'm—"
"You're my daughter." His voice was flat, emotionless. "A fallen angel's child. You can pretend all you want, but that's what you are. What you'll always be."
He moved closer, and I backed away until my legs hit the edge of the bed.
"I don't want to be here," I said, hating how small my voice sounded. "Let me go. Let me—"
"Why would I let you go?" His head tilted slightly. "You're finally home where you belong. We can be a family again."
"We were never a family!" The words burst out of me, raw and jagged. "You were never there! Mother died because you weren't there, because you—"
"Your mother died because she was weak." His expression didn't change. "Because she couldn't handle what she'd become by loving me. You inherited that weakness."
The words hit like physical blows.
I wanted to scream at him, to rage, to make him understand the years of abandonment and pain and loneliness. But my throat closed around the words, trapping them inside.
"You're afraid," he said, and something in his tone shifted into clinical neutrality. "You've always been afraid. Of being left behind. Of being abandoned again. Of being exactly like your mother. Broken by love."
"Stop," I whispered.
"That's why you push people away before they can leave you first." He moved closer still, looming over me. "That's why you play games, flirt without meaning it, hide behind masks and performances. Because if no one sees the real you, no one can reject the real you."
My legs gave out. I sank onto the bed, my hands trembling in my lap.
"But Toshio saw through it, didn't he?" My father's voice came from directly above me now. "He looked past all your defenses and saw the damaged, desperate girl underneath. And you let him. You actually let someone in."
I looked up at him, tears blurring my vision.
His face had changed. The features were melting, reshaping themselves into someone else entirely.
Toshio stood before me now, but wrong. His expression was cold and disgusted.
"You're too much work, Akeno," he said, and his voice carried none of the warmth I'd come to crave. "Too damaged. Too needy. I don't have time to fix what your father broke."
"Please," I managed to force out. "Don't—"
"I tried to care about you." He turned away, moving toward the door. "But you're exhausting. Always performing, always testing, always needing validation. I have better things to do than prop up your shattered self-worth."
He reached for the door handle.
"Don't leave me," I whispered, hating myself for the plea even as it left my lips. "Please, I'll be better, I'll—"
"You'll be alone," he said without turning back. "Just like you've always been. Just like you deserve to be."
The door opened. He stepped through.
I tried to call out to him, but my voice failed me, replaced with tears.
"Akeno, my sweet girl." I whipped my head to see my mother, sitting beside me with perfect posture, that loving smile I had missed seeing so much. I was in her arms before I realized it, sobbing. She rubbed my back, phrases like "shh, it's okay" on repeat.
"I miss you so much, Mom. Why do you have to be gone?" I managed to cry out.
"I'm right here," she replied softly.
"Akeno?" I looked up at her, immediately noticing the blood dripping down her mouth. I looked down in alarm, seeing a familiar sword piercing her chest, right where her heart would be. I snapped my head up to look behind her, seeing Toshio, with that cold, distant glare. He was holding the sword.
"NO!" The scream ripped from my throat. I attempted to stand to push him away, but my mother held me down by my shoulder with impossible strength.
"I'm right here Akeno, it's okay." Blood was pouring from her mouth and nose, her eyes never losing her sincere love as she looked at me.
"You never even deserved to have a mother like her. That's why she died. And why she'll die again." His voice, full of contempt, that voice that came from my Toshio, fully and completely shattered me. I watched in slow motion as my mother fell from the bed. Pale. Dead.
Then, before my eyes, he stabbed his sword through her head, pinning it there.
"Just like what will happen to you." It was no longer his voice. It was no longer him. I looked over slowly, my face frozen in shock and grief. It was a demon woman. My vision faded.
And I was back in the coffin.