track: discolor
She is right. There is no escape, not for the both of you. But if it was just one person… they might still succeed. You can barely feel your toes and fingers any more; a deep numbness has set in. You are bleeding out, slowly dying, so before then…
“That’s right,” you nod, muttering to yourself. You turn around to face the encroaching abyss; it is almost upon you. All you can hear are the sibilant whispers of the dead, all you can see are their lifeless eyes sunken deep in distorted faces. Maeda’s warmth rests gently on your skin… it is the only living sensation you can feel. Fighting your reluctance to hold on, to keep her with you if only as a dwindling flame to struggle vainly against the shadow, you finally let go.
“Shinoseki…” You can hear the relief in Maeda’s voice, but you are not going to do what she asks. You are not another of her servants. You will do what you have chosen to do, and you shove her away from you, towards the light.
At the same time, the abyss shrieks, a million voices crying out in concert. It descends upon you. Icy-cold fingers sprouting from the ends of countless arms twine themselves around your blood-stained clothes, scrabbling at your skin. They harden in a vise-like grip, and you are gradually pulled into the mass of bodies by their inexorable force. You sink into the wriggling sea of the dead. The writhing souls claw at your flesh, tearing your skin and spilling your blood in search of the warmth of life. Fingers… hands… there is no way to count the innumerable, cold limbs imprisoning you in this hell. Will you be torn apart slowly, or will you suffocate first, once your head is fully submerged?
It’s okay, though. It’ll be fine. She’ll make it out, so it’ll be fine.
Another hand closes around your exposed fingers, and pulls. It is a firm and warm grip, resolute in its determination.
Having been pulled partially away from the abyss, you look up, fearing what you will see.
Maeda. It’s Maeda.
What is she still doing here?
“No… not again…” she mutters, a frenzied look gleaming in her teary eyes. The strong façade has been thoroughly torn down and destroyed: her face is filled with a frantic, fearful desperation. As she is now, she seems so fragile… so brittle that she could shatter at any moment, leagues distant from the headstrong lady you met just hours before. You wonder, numbly, why she is trying so hard to save you, but only for a moment.
That’s it.
Her eyes aren’t truly seeing
you. In you she sees someone… something else. A ghost of her past, perhaps. It could be the person she spoke of, Shinohara Seiji, but whoever it is she thinks she’s saving, it should not be Shinoseki Adachi. She has no reason to save you at her own expense. She is just acting on past trauma… that’s right. That must be it. The thought comforts you little, changes little.
The pressure around your body tightens; the dead are not about to let you leave. You can feel your spine cracking, your ribs bending. You scream out in pain, blood spurting from your mouth.
“M… Maeda-san… It’s enough… if you don’t go now…”
“No! It’s not going to happen like this! I won’t… I won’t let it happen another time!” she screams shrilly, tugging on your arm desperately with both hands. She shakes her head, tears streaming down her cheeks as she continues to repeat the word ‘No’, as if it is a mantra that will miraculously save the both of you.
The sea of the dead trembles. Waves of hatred buffet your body, leaving behind tiny little thorns that dig into your skin.
You have to hurry.
Gritting your teeth, you swing your hand away from Maeda, violently shaking off her grip.
“Why?” Falling back on her behind from your sudden shove, Maeda whispers, raising her empty hands as if in supplication. Her blank eyes staring at you, uncomprehending. Even as the shadow rises up to devour you, the pulsating white light behind her suddenly grows in brilliance once more.
You realize, somehow, that it’ll be alright.
It’s going to be okay.
You speak the words as if from a script that has swum up from the deepest reaches of your fading, disoriented memories, smiling weakly at Nami.
“It’s going to be okay, Na-chan.”
Confusion. Understanding. Realization. That realization breaks something inside her. “Sei-chan! No… No!” She lunges at you wildly, screaming, grabbing your wrist.
You are swallowed by the darkness; she is engulfed by the light.
Then, the light winks out of existence, taking Nami along with it.
And in the next instant, pain.
Pain, unlike any you have felt before. It assails ever fiber of your being.
The dead are being whipped into a ferocious frenzy. Fingers like worms, digging under your skin, into your muscles, piercing your bones. Ripping apart your intestines, slicing up your liver, puncturing your lungs. Clawing out your eyeballs, biting off your ears, tearing out your tongue. Crushing. Stabbing. Slashing. Chewing. Grinding. They gorge on you, using up your life, meagre as it is, transient as it is, as if it can act to appease their own eternal torment even for a second.
As your consciousness winks out, a final thought runs through your mind, clear despite the excruciating pain wracking your ruined body:
At least Na-chan made it out… I can be happy with that…
But…
Ah…
I don’t want to die.
---DEAD END---