tap,
tap,
tap
The sound of his footsteps echoed sharply against the hushed quiet of the forest path. Every step struck like a drumbeat through the stillness, a crisp, deliberate noise that seemed too clean for the thoughts muddling Tatsuya's head.
His breathing was steady. His grip on the katana's hilt, far from calm.
"…Tch."
The click of his tongue was barely audible, but it still managed to carve itself into the atmosphere like a crack in glass.
Splash.
He stepped into a puddle of water and looked down.
His shoes, they are the only thing that was left of his old life. They are the same shoes that stepped in the blood that he was responsible for.
He had brought his school uniform to the mansion but he hadn't worn that in a while. They lay folded up somewhere in the back of a drawer at the mansion, untouched for weeks now.
Those shoes stood in the blood of the people he killed and the blood of himself.
If you look closely, you could still see some dried up blood from that day…
It reminded Tatsuya of what he had done.
He had killed them, the people who hurt him. And he had learned something that day.
It wasn't until now that he realized what it was. If you hide from the problem… it doesn't go away.
It waits. It grows. It spreads like a mold through your bones. Until the rot is all you know.
So you cut it out.
You kill it before it kills you.
I have to do this, for everyone she had hurt. He thought to himself.
His thoughts were clouded and that was the only thing he could see.
"…Sora."
He spoke her name like a curse. The shape of it coiled in his throat, venomous and alive. His fingers twitched along the hilt of his blade. His eyes narrowed—sharp, hungry, unblinking.
That girl had hurt him. Had almost killed him. Had torn open the fragile trust he'd been trying to build. But more than that—she was a problem. She was his problem. And problems didn't go away when you looked the other way.
They got worse.
And worse.
Until they came for you in your sleep.
So what was he supposed to do? What else was there, except this?
"This is justice," he muttered. "For Luna. For Misuki. If she hurts me, she can also her them."
The path wound forward like a serpent through the underbrush, the trees pressing close as if trying to whisper something he refused to hear. The wind rattled the leaves. Shadows twisted and stretched.
But none of it reached him.
His thoughts had narrowed to a single, sharpened point.
He would find her. And he would kill her.
Part 2
The forest thinned.
The trees, once pressed close like walls, began to peel apart. Their canopy opened up, letting stray beams of sunlight break through, painting broken patterns across the forest floor.
Dust motes danced in the pale light, floating in the silence like lost spirits. The path beneath Tatsuya's shoes gave way to dirt and moss, and soon, to stone.
He stopped.
A shallow breath escaped him, fogging in the cooler air that clung to this secluded clearing. Ahead, the stone outcropping stretched like a forgotten altar—weathered, cold, and lonely. Moss crept up its side. Ivy coiled around its base.
Sob..
Sob…
Tatsuya froze.
He froze by the sound of someone sobbing, they were the kind of sobs that came from the heart.
And in the center, curled in on herself as though trying to disappear from the world.
"…What…?"
It was Sora.
She didn't hear him. Or maybe she did, but couldn't react. Her frame was trembling, barely upright, her shoulders shaking violently. She was seated on the ground, hugging her knees, her forehead pressed to them.
"I'm sorry…"
The words were broken. Not spoken, but exhaled. As if her soul were leaking out with every syllable.
Tatsuya blinked.
That wasn't the Sora he knew.
No—that couldn't be her.
The Sora who attacked him with merciless conviction. The Sora who denounced him as a "demon cultist" and aimed to cut him down.
The one who looked at him like he was a monster wearing a boy's skin.
That Sora didn't cry. She didn't sob like a child in mourning.
"I… I didn't mean to…"
Her voice cracked.
"I just… I just wanted to protect them…"
Something in Tatsuya's chest shifted.
He didn't move forward. He didn't draw his sword. He didn't breathe.
Because what the hell was this?
What was he supposed to do?
Was this a trap?
…No. If it was, then Sora was playing the long game and that didn't make sense. Because to her I am already dead.
The tears were real.
The shaking was real. The way her voice trembled on every word was real. Was she drowning in something so much heavier than regret?
It wasn't just sadness. It was guilt.
"I did what master told me…."
Her voice collapsed into silence after that. Her body lurched forward with a dry sob. Her nails dug into her arms hard enough that the skin turned white.
Tatsuya's hand was still on his sword.
His fingers clenched.
This was his chance. This was the moment. One clean strike.
She wouldn't fight back. She might not even realize it was coming.
So why…?
Why couldn't he move?
Why was his heart suddenly thudding in his chest, too loud, too present? Why did his mouth feel dry? Why did the world around him feel like it had suddenly grown teeth, biting into him from every angle?
He had come here to end it.
He had come here to cut out the problem.
So why… why the hell was it suddenly so hard to breathe?
"…You're… crying," he muttered.
He had come to kill her.
But now… seeing her like this…
The katana trembled in his hand.
The wind passed through the trees above them, quiet and cold.
One step away from murder.
One moment away from the end of something he'd been chasing like a curse carved into his soul.
He watched the girl whose crying, alone, devastated by something she couldn't undo.
And suddenly, it hit him.
He wasn't here because of Luna.
He hadn't come for Misuki.
He didn't draw his blade because someone needed to stop the danger before it spread.
He—
"…I came for me."
The words slipped out before he could stop them.
He stared at the ground. At the cracked leaves beneath his feet. At the dirt scuffed by the same shoes that still bore the dried blood of people who no longer breathed.
"I lied."
His voice quivered.
"I lied to myself."
His fingers loosened from the hilt, just slightly.
Because now he could hear it. That small, trembling voice inside him—the one he buried every time he put on the face of someone strong. Someone who could do what was necessary. Someone who didn't regret.
But that was the lie, wasn't it?
Just like back then.
Just like that day.
When he stood above their bodies—his bullies, his tormentors—and told himself they deserved it. That no one came to help him so he had to do something himself.
That it was justified.
But he had known.
Even in that moment, deep in the pit of his chest, behind the pulse of adrenaline and hatred and cold, he had known what he did was wrong.
No matter how much they hurt him. No matter how many times they made him wish he could disappear. No matter how much they pushed him toward the edge.
It was still wrong.
Because he didn't kill them to protect anyone.
He killed them because he was angry.
Because he wanted them to hurt.
Because he wanted them to suffer.
And now—here he was again.
Following the same pattern. Pretending it was different. Telling himself that Luna's injury, that Sora's accusations, that everything that happened somehow justified this.
But it didn't.
It never did.
And the weight of that realization hit him so hard, he nearly fell.
"…I'm so selfish," he said, voice trembling like glass on the verge of shattering. "I told myself this was justice. I told myself I was protecting people."
His hand dropped from the sword.
"I thought if I didn't act, no one would. I thought I had to fix it."
But that's not what this was," he said. "This… this was about me. I wanted revenge. I wanted to feel like I had control. Like I was the one deciding how things end."
"I was going to kill you," he whispered. "And I would've told myself it was for Luna. That it was justice. But it wasn't."
"…I'm sorry."
The words burned his throat. They were raw and ugly and desperate.
He wanted Sora to hear it but calling out to her felt to scary.
Admitting his selfishness didn't undo the weight of the blade he'd nearly drawn. It didn't erase the dark spiral of hatred that had nearly pulled him into murder, again.
And worse… it didn't stop the next thought.
What if I just left?
The idea crept in like a whisper. It slithered into the space where his guilt had cracked him open, uncoiling gently behind his eyes.
Wouldn't that be better?
Not just for Sora.
For everyone.
I'm not a hero, I'm not some noble guy trying to save people. I don't even know what I am anymore…
A sinner who returns to Wrath when times get difficult.
Tatsuya slowly turned away, the forest yawning open before him like an escape route he hadn't dared look at until now.
If I disappeared… if I walked away, right now… would things go back to normal?Would everyone be better off?
His fingers twitched at his sides.
A life without him. A world where he didn't bring pain or fire or blood wherever he stepped. Where Luna never got hurt. Where Sora didn't cry because of what he became. Where he wasn't a knife waiting to stab someone again.
"Maybe…"
He took one step.
Another.
Each footfall felt heavier than the last.
He didn't know where he'd go. He didn't have a plan. All he knew was that the world might be kinder without him in it.
Should I have taken the step when I was on the roof top?
Tatsuya had made the decision, he just had to apologize to Luna and Ruza if he ever got the chance.
He didn't belong here and not in this world. It wouldn't matter, no one would miss him anyways.
Please forgive me, Lord.
Part 3
GRRRRRRRAAAAAAAH!!!
The bushes behind Sora exploded in a flash of brown and black fur and gleaming white teeth.
"—!!"
In that instant, everything snapped.
A massive beast burst from the underbrush, snarling, drool flying from its jagged maw. Its body was all muscle and twisted sinew.
A demon beast.
"SORA!!"
Tatsuya's legs moved before he could think.
Sora barely had time to scream. Her arms flew up, more out of instinct than anything else—but they wouldn't be enough. The monster's claws were already mid-swing, its jaws aiming for her neck with monstrous precision.
Steel met flesh.
Tatsuya's katana, halfway drawn, bit deep into the beast's side.
Blood sprayed.
The dog howled, twisting in the air, its momentum slamming it sideways into the dirt.
Tatsuya landed hard, stumbling between the beast and Sora, blade fully unsheathed now, eyes wild with adrenaline.
He didn't breathe.
Didn't speak.
Didn't think.
Because the part of him that wondered whether he should leave—
Was gone.
Burned away by the decision that he would disappear, that he wanted to die.
So he had no reason to value his life anymore. And if he was going to die he couldn't drag Sora with him.
The demon dog didn't hesitate.
Even wounded, its savagery surged like wildfire—pure, untamed, and unnatural.
Hissing as it sizzled against the cold forest air. But the beast didn't falter. It thrived on pain. Its eyes gleamed like burning ruby as it locked onto Tatsuya.
And then it lunged.
"—Tch!"
Tatsuya barely had time to raise his blade.
The beast slammed into him with the force of a battering ram. He blocked with the flat of his katana, but the impact sent a shockwave through his bones. He staggered back, knees bending, arms trembling.
He gritted his teeth and slashed again—low and fast, aiming for the legs.
The blade struck, but not deep enough.
The dog shrieked and twisted mid-air, then lashed out with its tail like a whip of iron. It caught Tatsuya in the ribs.
Gah!!
The pain bloomed instantly. His breath was torn from his lungs. His legs gave out.
Still—he didn't fall.
I have to protect her.
He bit down hard on his tongue, tasted copper.
His grip tightened.
The katana felt heavy. Heavier than it ever had before.
The beast charged again.
Tatsuya moved by reflex. He dropped low, using the last of his strength to sidestep and drive the blade upward, straight into the beast's underbelly.
The steel struck true.
The monster howled in agony, writhing, snapping blindly And then its claws raked across Tatsuya's chest.
"Gah!"
Blood sprayed.
Tatsuya flew backward, his body skipping across the forest floor like a broken doll. His katana slipped from his fingers. He hit a tree.
Vision blurred.
The sky spun above him, pale light cracking through the leaves like shards of glass. He couldn't breathe. Couldn't move. The pain in his chest was spreading, pulsing, overwhelming. His ears rang like they'd burst. Every heartbeat was a hammer, smashing him from the inside.
And then—his arms gave out.
His body slumped to the side, face pressed against the dirt.
He could just barely see the demon beast, limping but alive, pacing toward Sora.
She was standing now.
Wide-eyed.
Frozen.
Helpless.
No…
Tatsuya's fingers twitched.
I have to… get up…
His body didn't listen.
He coughed. Blood spilled from his mouth. It ran down his chin and pooled beneath him.
The world dimmed.
A flickering blur.
His own heartbeat—loud at first—began to slow.
Is this it…? he thought, blinking against the shadows creeping in from the edges of his vision. Am I… dying?
There was no answer.
Only the cold.
Only the sound of the beast's growling.
And then
Darkness.