Reika's breath came ragged. Each inhale burned like she was swallowing embers. Blood clung to her clothes like a second skin, hot and wet against her ribs. Her shoulder hung limp, bones grinding beneath flesh.
Usui stood in front of her—barely. His katana dragged in his left hand, the other limp and bleeding at his side. One eye was already swelling shut, and his lip was split to the chin. They looked less like warriors now and more like survivors of some forgotten war.
He limped closer, every step uneven, unsteady. But his gaze never left her.
"You still don't get it,"he murmured. "You still think this is about power or ranks or politics."
His voice was low. Flat. But something trembled beneath the words.
"You think I want to win?"
She said nothing. Just lifted her blade again—barely. Her arm trembled, fingers slick with blood. Even now, she didn't back down.
Usui stared at her.
And then, slowly... he lifted his blade—not to strike. But to rest it.
Against her stomach.
The tip pressed into her abdomen, cold steel meeting torn cloth and bruised skin.
Reika didn't move.
She didn't blink.
Just looked him in the eye, breath hitching once—once.
A long silence stretched between them. The battlefield fell quiet. Even the Shikiban above stopped speaking.
"...Do it,"she whispered.
Usui's hand tightened on the hilt. His knuckles turned white.
Her voice was so quiet. So calm. Like she'd already accepted it.
"You're going to, right? You want it more than anything,"she said. "So stop hesitating."
He swallowed hard. Something in his chest pulled tight. His fingers loosened—then clenched again.
"Shut up," he said. But the words lacked venom. His blade trembled.
She stared straight through him. Not scared. Not pleading.
Just... seeing him.
"You don't hate me, do you?"
"...No," he admitted.
"Then why?"
His throat worked once. A flicker crossed his eyes. Something raw. Familiar.
"I don't have a choice," he muttered.
Reika exhaled. "You always had a choice, Usui."
His blade pressed in—just slightly. The tip pierced her skin. She gasped, her knees buckling, but she didn't step back. Didn't stop him.
"You think anyone cared about my choices back then?" he whispered.
[FLASHBACK – 7 YEARS AGO]
The room stank of old liquor and sweat.
His father threw the remote. It cracked against the boy's head.
"Why're you still here, huh? What are you even good for?"
Usui, twelve, didn't answer. His lip bled. He stood still. Too afraid to run. Too numb to fight.
His mother sobbed in the kitchen. She always did that. Loud but powerless.
His father leaned close. "You want to survive in this world? Then grow up. Get strong. Or you'll rot like her."
Usui clenched his fists so hard his nails cut into his palms.
He didn't cry.
Not anymore.
[PRESENT]
His hand moved.
The blade sank deeper.
Reika's breath hitched. Blood dripped from the wound. Hot. Immediate.
But she didn't scream.
Her hand pressed weakly to his chest—not to push him away.
But to steady herself.
"You always fight like you're already drowning," she whispered, voice cracking. "Like... if you stop, you'll disappear."
His lips trembled. "...Maybe I already did."
For a split second, everything paused. Just two broken pieces trying to destroy each other to survive.
Then—
He shoved the blade all the way in.
Reika choked on a scream that never came. Her eyes widened, body arching. Blood spilled past her lips. Her legs gave out. She collapsed into him.
But she didn't fall.
She clung to his shirt, trembling.
Eyes glassy. Skin going pale.
"That was the only way, Reika," Usui said, voice barely above a breath. "I needed... to make sure I'd never go back to being that kid."
Her fingers clawed weakly at his chest. Her knees gave. They sank to the ground—together.
She rested against his shoulder, breath shallow, eyelids fluttering.
"I thought... you'd be different..." she whispered, barely audible.
He didn't respond.
Couldn't.
His sword dropped from his hand. He caught her weight as she slumped forward.
Blood soaked between them.
Somewhere above, the Shikiban murmured.
But in that moment—it was only them.
Reika coughed once, her blood staining his collar.
"I still don't hate you..." she murmured, and it broke something in him.
He gritted his teeth and pressed his forehead to hers.
"You should."
Her lips twitched into the faintest smile.
Then her eyes rolled back—and her body went still.