Akira had come straight to my room after he'd ended the mayor's life, as if pulled here by an invisible thread. He knew I would be there, waiting. When the door closed behind him, I got to my feet from the place I sat-where I'd been waiting for what felt like hours-and my fingers shook as I reached for the mask that still covered half his face. I smoothed it away with slow, reverent movements, then let my hand slide into his dark hair and thread through it like I could anchor him to me.
"Aki…" My voice cracked, as if thick from unshed tears. "I know you too well, even to the fact that you will never stop, no matter how hard I may beg you."
I pressed myself against him, burying my face in the worn fabric over his chest, breathing in the scent of night air and iron. "Use me, Akira. Let me carry some of this darkness with you."
His hand closed around my wrist, firm, unyielding. He drew my arm away from him as though my touch burned. "This is my war," he said, low and final. "And I will finish it alone."
The words cut like a knife. I stepped back, my voice growing to barely above a whisper. "Look at yourself in the mirror, Aki. We're no longer kids, and yet you still refuse to listen to me."
He pushed past me towards the door. Something inside of me just snapped.
"Akira, I'm speaking to you!" I cried, but he walked on as if I were only shadow.
The rage and desperation merged. I lunged forward, seized the back of his collar, and yanked him around to face me. My palm met his cheek with a sharp crack. Tears spilled freely now, tracing hot paths down my face.
"I love you, Akira."
I grasped the edges of his hood and tugged him near, so that our foreheads practically touched. "The thought of losing you piecemeal, day by unending day, is just tearing me to pieces."
His face stayed a mask-eyes empty, mouth a thin line. I released him, retreating a step, my voice barely more than a whisper. "I'm sorry… Do whatever you want. You will never understand what love truly means."
In the time span of a heartbeat, his hand shot out. Fingers closed around my throat—cruelly, with desperate strength—and he drove me back until the wall met my spine. I gasped, air stolen, heart wild.
Then his other arm circled my waist, dragging me flush against him. His mouth crashed onto mine with all the force of a storm breaking-fierce and punishing, pouring every ounce of rage and grief into that one kiss. I tasted blood and salt and years of silence.
He drew back slowly, reluctantly. His eyes, so close to mine, shone with unshed tears. One hand moved to the nape of my neck, holding me as if I might vanish.
"I love you too, Yura," he whispered, voice rough like gravel. "I have loved you since we were only children running beneath the same sky."
He sank to his knees, fingers clutching the hem of my shirt like a drowning man clings to driftwood. "Even after they tore every memory of you from my mind, there remained this hollow ache—an emptiness screaming that I had lost something priceless and could not remember its name."
His grip on me loosened. I sank to my knees before him. Gently he framed my face between his hands, his thumb stroking the tears away that would not quit coming.
"After all these years, I found you again. I have already lost everything else I ever held dear." His voice broke. "I will not lose you now."
We rose together. He folded me into his arms with a tenderness that belied the violence still staining his hands. "Stay out of my path, Yura. Let me bear this pain alone."
I smiled through my tears, shaking my head. "There you are wrong, Aki." I wiped my cheeks with the sleeve of my shirt. "The moment you fall, I will follow you into death without hesitation. So as long as you draw breath, let me be the one who stands beside you-every step, every shadow."
A weight that had burdened me for years was suddenly lifted off my chest, leaving me sanguine, almost at peace.
Emerging from the corner of the room, Yuna stepped forward with her arms crossed, a small smirk playing on her lips. "If you two are finally done with your tragic opera, I have something to say."
She walked to Akira, reached up, and gave him a light punch on the back. "I know Yura better than anybody. Once she sets her heart on something, no force in this world will sway her."
She smiled—soft, genuine. "Don't waste your worry on her. Whatever comes, I will guard her with my life."
Lucifer's voice cut through the quiet like smoke. "Damn, shorty. You've changed."
Yuna whirled on him, eyes blazing. "Shut your mouth, devil!"
For the first time in years, a faint smile curved Akira's lips-smaller, fleeting, but real. I had not seen that smile since we were children, running through summer fields and playing, before the world taught him how to bleed.
Nothing had changed, really. He was still that boy who once stood in front of me, arms outstretched, shielding me from every danger. Whatever agony he could bear on his own, so long as no one he loved ever had to feel its bite.
And I would stand by his side, whether he liked it or not—right to the bitter end.