Making things right P5
Imported from SF2 with no description.
I wasn't sure if I could live like this anymore. Every second of the day, my thoughts circled back to her. Yuki. No matter what I was doing, she was always there, just beneath the surface. Even now, as I swept the leaves outside the shrine, my hands moved on autopilot while my mind ran itself in circles. This used to be my favorite time of the day—quiet, peaceful—but now it felt like every thought had weight, dragging me down.
When I'm not with her, it's worse. My mind fills with questions, possibilities I don't want to think about. I love her. I love her so much it's unbearable. But it's impossible. It could never work out between us. Even if nothing else stood in the way, what I feel for her is wrong. A betrayal of her trust, of everything I should be doing to make up for what my family did to her.
And yet, I can't stop. No matter how much I try, the feelings don't go away. I've told myself I can carry this, keep it hidden forever, but that's another lie. The more I lie to myself, the more I lie to Yuki. And last time... last time her questions were too close. I could feel the ground cracking beneath me. It's only a matter of time before I slip, and when I do, she'll see the truth.
That's what scares me the most. Not that she'll hate me, but that she won't know what to think of me. That she'll look at me and see someone dangerous. Not someone who loves her, but someone selfish. Someone willing to chain her down the way my family did. That thought keeps me awake at night—the idea that she might fear me, that I could hurt her just by wanting her.
But how is keeping this to myself any better? She deserves the truth, even if it means losing her. Do I really want to drag her along, let her think everything's fine, just because I'm too afraid to face what happens next? No. I won't do that to her. I won't become the kind of person I swore I'd never be. Yuki's strong. She doesn't need me.
If anything, I'm the one who needs her. That's the part I don't want to admit, the part that feels too selfish. But it's true. And if telling her everything pushes her away, then I'll accept that. I'll let her go. I just want her to know. I stop sweeping, my thoughts slowly settling into something close to resolve.
Tonight. I'll tell her tonight. I'll do what I can to make it easier. Maybe I'll show her a romantic movie this time, bring her some candy. The thought makes my face burn. It's almost like I'm planning a date. A terrible idea, I know, but it's all I can think of. If she decides we can't be together, I'll understand. I'll support her however I can. But I can't keep living like this, caught between what I feel and what I fear.
Tonight, it has to happen. It can't wait any longer.
Yuki lay curled on the blanket Tasuke had given her, her snout pressed deep into its folds. His scent still lingered, faint but comforting, wrapping around her like a gentle embrace. Since he had gifted it to her, the nightmares that once plagued her restless sleep had vanished entirely. But in their place, something new had begun to take root. Her dreams were no longer the chaotic, painful fragments of her past; they had become something else entirely, something she couldn't ignore.
At first, they were simple. She and Tasuke walking through the forest together, his voice warm and familiar, though the words were always just out of reach. She didn't know what they talked about, but it didn't matter. Whatever it was, it left her feeling light, content. As the dreams continued, though, they began to shift. She started noticing how his touch lingered just a moment longer during those walks. Later, in the hazy realm of her sleeping mind, he would hold her, just as he had in the cave after they watched that movie together. His arms around her felt so real, so solid, that when she woke, the ache of their absence lingered far longer than the dream itself.
She hadn't thought much of it at first. They were just dreams, weren't they? Nothing more. But now, lying alone in the cave, her thoughts drifted back to the conversation they'd had days ago; the one that had left her unsettled and yet unable to let it go. Whether he had a mate. What his type was. At the time, she hadn't known what compelled her to ask such questions. But now, in the quiet of the cave, with only her thoughts for company, her dreams seemed to hold an answer she hadn't dared to admit.
It wasn't just a dream anymore. It had become a thought, a gnawing presence in her mind that refused to fade. She couldn't stand the idea of someone else having him. The very notion was unbearable, and when her imagination conjured the image of Tasuke holding a human female close, smiling at her the way he smiled at Yuki, it ignited something raw and volatile inside her.
The flare of anger was sharp and consuming, a heat she hadn't known she was capable of feeling. Her claws flexed against the stone floor as her heart pounded in her chest. The intensity of it left her breathless, her gaze dropping to the floor as she tried to make sense of the feeling.
Jealousy.
There was no hiding it now. Yuki understood exactly what she was feeling. It almost seemed laughable, how long it had taken her to realize the truth that had been growing within her all along. She didn't just want Tasuke's presence, his kindness, or the fleeting moments of attention he gave her—she wanted something deeper, something permanent. A bond. A connection that went beyond companionship.
She wanted him as her mate.
But as the truth settled into her heart, it carried a weight she couldn't ignore. The ache of doubt cut through her, sharp and unrelenting.
Why would he ever feel the same way?
Her claws tightened around the fabric as doubts swirled in her mind. After what those humans had done to her, what they had taken. She felt tainted, less than whole. How could someone like Tasuke, someone so gentle and good, ever want her? Her teeth clenched as anger surged, momentarily overwhelming the shame that burned like a wound in her chest. She had tried to move forward, step by step, day by day.
But no matter how far she went, no matter how hard she tried to leave it behind, the past always seemed to reach out and claim her again, dragging her back into its shadow. A tear slipped down her cheek, and then another, until they fell freely, streaking her scales. Her breath hitched as she tried to hold herself together, clutching the blanket closer as if it could shield her from the storm within. But then, amidst the chaos of her emotions, a thought broke through, small and fragile, but undeniable.
Perhaps she wasn't whole. Perhaps what she had to offer wasn't much. But it was everything she had, and she wanted to give it to Tasuke. If he didn't accept it, if he couldn't, then she would live with that. But losing herself in these endless thoughts, this constant cycle of doubt, wouldn't quell the pull in her heart.
Tonight. The word felt like a promise as she steadied her breath. Tonight, she would tell him. She would tell him everything, no matter how terrifying it was to lay her heart bare.
No matter what happens, she thought, the pull in her chest turning to resolve. He deserves to know.
I'd gathered everything I thought I'd need for tonight. My heart raced, and no matter how I tried to steady my breathing, it refused to calm. But there was no turning back now—I had to do this. Slinging the bag over my shoulder, I stepped out of my room, determined.
"Tasuke!" I froze mid-step, turning to see my father standing in the hall, his silhouette framed by the dim light. “A word."
His voice carried an authority that left no room for argument. He turned and walked toward the living room without waiting for my response. Reluctantly, I set my bag down, dread twisting in my stomach as I followed him. What could this be about? When I entered, he was already seated at the low table, gesturing for me to sit across from him. The look in his eyes was hard to read, but the air was heavy with unspoken intent. He waited until I sat down, studying me like he was weighing his words carefully.
“I think you need to take a break," he said finally. His voice was calm, but there was a finality in his tone that left no room for discussion. “You're starting to see that beast as an easy way out of life's more difficult challenges."
Tch. Here we go again.
“And what challenges are those?" I replied, sharper than I intended.
"Succession." His answer was blunt, delivered with the precision of someone who had already won the argument in his head. "We are creatures of habit, son. It's in our nature to seek the simplest solutions. Why waste time cultivating a relationship when you can take what you want from a piece of meat?"
The venom in his words made my jaw tighten. I forced myself to sit still, though my body screamed to react, to shout back. He noticed the shift in my posture; of course, he noticed. He always did.
"The fact that you're upset tells me I've struck a nerve." He leaned back slightly, a faint smirk playing on his lips. "I've been patient, letting you indulge yourself, thinking you'd tire of it eventually. I thought you'd run out of steam by now." His chuckle was low, almost amused. "But I suppose that's the burden of youth—a young man's problem, really. Too much energy, too much… drive. It's something you'll settle once you learn to focus it on a proper woman."
Every word felt like a lash, each one pushing me closer to the edge. My fists clenched beneath the table, nails digging into my palms. I couldn't afford to lose control. Not now.
"What's with that look?" he says, his tone dripping with mockery. "Is losing easy sex really that devastating?" He sighs, long and slow, like he's the one burdened by my actions. "Son, whether you believe me or not, I was young once too." His voice carries the weight of a lesson he's convinced I need to learn. "While I never stooped to laying with that beast, unlike some of our ancestors, I understand the appeal of finding comfort in something simple, something without strings attached." He shakes his head, his disappointment evident. "But it's a trap. A road that leads nowhere. I wish my own father had stepped in sooner to steer me away. So much wasted time."
His eyes narrow, his voice firm as he leans slightly forward. "I'm trying to save you from the same mistake. You can't see it now, but one day, you'll thank me for this." He stretches his hand across the table, palm open, his meaning unmistakable. "Give me the key. Once you've proven you're ready, when you've found a proper woman, I'll return it to you."
The air between us feels suffocating, the weight of his words pressing down like stones. My heart sinks, and I can feel the edge of panic creeping in. Handing over the key isn't an option. It's not just about his control; it's about the cave, the talismans, the truth about Yuki. He'll discover everything, and once he does, there will be no hiding it.
Why? Why is this happening now?! I have to stall in any way I can.
"One week," I say, my voice steady, though it feels like I'm choking on the words.
"One week for what?" he asks, suspicion sharpening his tone.
"I'll prove to you I'm not infatuated with that monster," I reply, holding his gaze. "I'll bring you its other eye."
"Why one week?" he presses, his voice hard, searching for any sign of weakness.
"I…" I falter, glancing away. "I don't like hurting things. I need time to… prepare myself."
For a long moment, he says nothing, his piercing gaze studying me as if trying to peel away my defenses. Then, he nods slowly, almost to himself.
"Three days," he says with finality, his tone leaving no room for argument. "It's not a creature to pity, but even as a boy, you hesitated with anything unpleasant. You couldn't even gut a fish without days of coaxing. Three days will be enough for you to do what needs to be done, and to see it for what it is."
He rises, the faint creak of the floor the only sound as he moves to the door. Sliding it open with practiced ease, he steps into the corridor without another word, his retreating footsteps disappearing into the night's calm. The stillness that follows is deafening. My thoughts churn, chaotic and relentless. Three days. I knew this would happen, but not this soon. Either way, I know one thing for certain: Tonight will truly be the night.
Either Yuki will accept me and we'll run away or I'll set her free and face whatever comes after.
The cave was quiet, save for the distant drip of water from somewhere deep in its tunnels. Yuki shifted slightly on the stone floor, the blanket Tasuke had given her pooling around her as she adjusted her coils. Her gaze lingered on the lantern he'd left behind, its glow steady but faint. He had been gone for longer than usual, and though she didn't worry easily, something about tonight felt... different.
The sound of footsteps echoed faintly down the tunnel. Yuki's head lifted, her cyan eye catching the faint silhouette of Tasuke as he approached. Her chest tightened briefly, but she shook the feeling off. She needed to stop overthinking. He was here, and that was enough.
“You're back," she said softly, keeping her tone light.
“Sorry I'm late," he replied, stepping into the lantern's glow and setting a small bag down beside him. His voice sounded normal, calm, but there was something about the way he moved—slightly stiffer than usual. She tilted her head, watching as he adjusted the bag with deliberate care.
“Is everything okay?" she asked, hoping her question sounded casual.
“Yeah," Tasuke said, his answer quick and even. But his hands fidgeted slightly as he began setting up the projector. “I thought we could watch another movie tonight," he added, glancing at her briefly before turning back to his task. “If you're up for it."
Yuki's feathers shifted slightly as she studied him. Was something on his mind? Or was she just imagining it because of her own nerves? “A movie," she repeated, the corners of her lips lifting faintly. “I'd like that."
“It's a little different from the last ones," Tasuke said, pulling out a small pouch and shaking it lightly. “I brought candy, too."
Yuki tilted her head, watching him as he set the bag aside near the projector. She couldn't help but smile faintly at the gesture. Candy wasn't something she would have ever thought to ask for, but the thoughtfulness behind it wasn't lost on her. Her tail shifted slightly, the soft flick of it brushing the stone floor.
“That sounds nice," she said quietly, settling herself onto the blanket. She glanced briefly at the pouch but quickly focused her attention back on Tasuke as he adjusted the projector. The lantern's glow flickered faintly against the walls, the familiar hum filling the air as the screen came to life.
She let herself settle, pushing aside the nagging thoughts in her mind. There was no need to overthink things. Tasuke had been kind as always, and whatever was weighing on her heart could wait. Tonight was about sharing this moment. The story began to unfold on the screen, pulling her in.
On the screen, the woman sat beside the injured man, her movements slow and deliberate as she pressed a cloth to his shoulder. She flinched when he winced, her hands trembling as though the pain were hers to bear. Her gaze, full of worry and guilt, lingered on his wounds longer than necessary, as if willing them to heal under her care.
The man watched her in silence, his eyes heavy with something unspoken. Though his body was battered, his focus wasn't on his own suffering but on her. His expression carried a quiet understanding, as though he could feel the weight of her emotions, her pain, even more acutely than his own.
Yuki's chest tightened as the scene unfolded. She didn't realize she'd leaned forward slightly, her gaze fixed on the screen. The woman's care for the man wasn't just about tending to his injuries—it was a reflection of something deeper, a shared burden neither had to voice aloud. Yuki knew that feeling. She'd seen it in Tasuke's eyes countless times.
Her focus returned to the movie as the woman finished securing the bandage around the man's arm. She lingered for a moment, her hand brushing against his skin before she began to pull away. But before she could retreat entirely, his hand shot out, grasping hers firmly but gently. The motion was sudden, unexpected, and it froze her in place.
The man's eyes dropped, and without a word, he directed her hand toward his chest, just above his heart. He moved slowly, almost reverently, revealing a faint scar etched into his skin. It was old, faded with time, but still visible. His fingers trembled slightly as he guided hers over it, his breath uneven as he broke the silence.
“Why does this one hurt more than the others?" he asked, his words laced with a heaviness that filled the room. His gaze remained fixed on her, unflinching, as he continued. “I thought killing them all and making sure you were safe would make it feel better... but it didn't."
The woman's eyes widened, her breath catching as his confession hung in the air between them. Her lips parted, her own voice trembling when she answered. “I didn't want you to kill anyone," she said softly, her hand pressing lightly against his chest, over the scar. “I just wanted you to be safe, to move on... Because you matter to me."
Yuki's chest tightened, her breath catching as she watched the scene unfold. The woman's words echoed in her mind, reverberating with a clarity that left her breathless. The way she had laid her heart bare, unafraid of what it might cost, resonated in a way Yuki couldn't ignore. The scar, the pain, the devotion—it all felt achingly familiar.
Tasuke had been the one to ease her burdens, the one to see her wounds even when she had tried to hide them. But unlike the man in the story, Tasuke never sought revenge or retribution. His care was quiet, steady, and unwavering, as though he had made it his mission to see her whole again, even if it meant carrying the weight of her past alongside her.
The scene faded to black, leaving only the hum of the projector in the quiet cave. Yuki exhaled shakily, her tail curling slightly as her claws pressed lightly into the blanket. She glanced toward Tasuke out of the corner of her eye, her heart thundering in her chest. He was still, his gaze fixed on the darkened screen, his expression unreadable.
For a moment, Yuki didn't move. The weight of what she had seen—and what it stirred within her—held her in place. Her mind raced with everything she wanted to say, but the words caught in her throat, held back by the same nervous energy that had kept her silent for so long.
"Yuki" Tasuke broke the silence. "Can we talk about something?"
I looked at her as she nodded, giving me a moment to collect myself. There was no more time to hesitate.
"I'm just going to say it, and whatever happens, I'll accept the consequences." I took a long breath to steady myself, my hands clenching at my sides as if bracing for impact. My gaze flickered toward the wall, unable to face her directly. "I love you, Yuki."
Silence. Not the kind of silence that simply fills a space—it was a suffocating stillness, a vacuum that swallowed every heartbeat, stretching seconds into an eternity. My chest tightened as dread curled around my ribs. Had I just shattered something irreparable? The air felt too heavy, thick with expectation and fear. I already knew the worst before it came. Yuki's disgust, her rejection—I had prepared myself for it. Or so I thought.
"Love?" Her voice, soft yet edged with something unreadable, cut through the quiet like the first crack of ice splitting under pressure. "What does that word mean?"
My breath hitched. I turned to her, expecting anything but the expression she wore—confusion, not repulsion. The realization hit me like a punch to the gut. Yuki was from a time before the word 'love' even existed. Of course she wouldn't know what it meant. The weight in my heart lifted for only a moment before it returned, heavier in a different way. I had to explain. I had to say it again. And this time, I had to make her understand.
Swallowing thickly, I cleared my throat. My face was burning, but I held her gaze, refusing to turn away. "T-The moon is beautiful… isn't it?"
The reaction wasn't instant. It came slow—agonizingly slow. At first, only the shift in her expression, confusion giving way to something deeper, something at the edges of her understanding. Then her eye widened, a sharp intake of breath parting her lips as she recoiled slightly, as if the words had struck her physically.
"T-The moon?" Yuki echoed, her voice barely above a whisper. "D-Did I hear you wrong?"
I shook my head, forcing the words past the dryness in my throat. "Love is just a newer way to say it. I love you, Yuki."
The first tear fell in silence. Then another. Then another. I should have felt bad, but I didn't—because through her trembling, through the raw vulnerability, there was a smile on her lips, faint and quivering but unmistakable. The relief that flooded through me was dizzying. This wasn't a tragedy. This wasn't a mistake.
"I want us to be mates," Yuki said.
A breath left me, ragged and half-laughed. It wasn't just me. It had never been just me. We had been dancing around it, stumbling through meanings lost to time, but we had found our way here, together. The sheer weight of it, the intensity of the moment, made my whole body tremble. I wanted to hold her. I wanted to kiss her. I wanted to show her everything I couldn't put into words. But I hesitated, my pulse hammering in my throat.
"C-Can we kiss?" I asked, my voice almost lost in the stillness between us.
She didn't answer. She didn't need to. In the next heartbeat, Yuki closed the distance, pressing her lips against mine with a desperate softness that sent shivers down my spine. Her eye clenched shut, as if afraid the moment would shatter if she opened them. It was a simple kiss, but it carried the weight of everything we had never said, everything we had been too afraid to admit.
Her warmth seeped into me, her scales softer than I had imagined, her breath mingling with mine. When we finally pulled away, the world felt different. Lighter. I looked into her eye and saw the truth reflected there. This wasn't a dream. Yuki loved me too.
"Tasuke what are you doing?!"
The voice tore through the cave, slicing through the warmth I had only just begun to embrace. My breath hitched as I turned, my heart a drum in my chest. There, at the mouth of the cave, stood my father. His face was twisted with rage, his breath ragged, and his grip white-knuckled around a ceremonial dagger. But it was his eyes that held me captive, dark with something beyond anger. Something colder. Something resolute.
"I knew something was wrong," he said, his voice low, a tremor running beneath the words. "You weren't yourself. You weren't right. And now—" His gaze shifted, burning through me as it landed on Yuki. "Now, it's all become clear."
He took a slow step forward, the dim light catching on the edge of the blade. I swallowed hard, instinctively shifting closer to Yuki. My breath was unsteady, my mind scrambling to make sense of how this was happening.
"How did you get in here?" I asked.
His grip on the dagger remained firm, his posture rigid as stone. "I used my backup key," he answered, his words slow, deliberate. "After our talk, I had my suspicions. The way you hesitated, the way you spoke of this thing… I feared the talismans were fading." His gaze darkened, flicking between me and Yuki. "Your infatuation with this beast—no, this abomination—was far from normal. As if these feelings weren't your own. As if you were being controlled."
"Controlled?" The sheer absurdity of it made me bristle. "What are you talking about?!"
His eyes softened—not with understanding, but with pity. "Don't worry, son." He took another step forward, lifting the dagger slightly. "I will fix everything. With this blade, I can bind it to the land again, where it belongs. Where it can never taint another soul."
Panic surged in my chest. The look in his eyes—it wasn't anger, it wasn't even hatred. It was the gaze of a man who had already made his decision. A man who had convinced himself he was saving me.
"I'll never let you touch Yuki," I growled, shifting my stance, preparing for whatever came next.
For the first time, my father hesitated. His expression faltered, his lips parting slightly. "…Yuki?" He repeated the name like it was foreign, like he couldn't believe I had given it one. His grip on the dagger trembled just slightly, his eyes flickering with something unreadable. Then, just as quickly, it was gone. His entire body tensed, breath drawing sharp. "I'm out of time."
It happened in a flash. One moment, he was standing there. The next, he lunged.
Everything became a blur for Yuki. Just moments ago, she had been consumed by nothing but warmth, joy so overwhelming it felt like it would swallow her whole. The love she held for Tasuke, and the knowledge that he felt the same, had made the world feel endless, full of possibility. That kiss—it had been everything. A promise. A future. A truth she had never dared to dream for herself.
Then his father appeared.
Yuki had imagined this moment before. She had played countless scenarios in her mind, thought of all the ways it might go, all the things she might say or do. Would she stand strong? Would she fight? Would she kill him for everything he had done to her? But when she saw him standing there, the ceremonial dagger in his grip, all of it, everything, vanished.
She froze.
Not because of his hatred, not even because of his rage. But because of that dagger. She had forgotten about it. Buried the memory deep, where it couldn't reach her. But now, it did. It tore through her mind in violent, flashing memories. The first of his line—the man who once spoke to her with awe, who traced his fingers over her scales with something she mistook for reverence—was the same man who had driven that dagger into her chest, chaining her to this cave, turning her into nothing more than a prisoner, a slave… and his wife.
"You'll see," he whispered, his fingers tracing the outline of her face. His touch was gentle, but his words were poisoned with obsession. "You'll understand in time. I love you more than anything in this world. I was chosen to love you. To keep you. You're mine."
Tears had burned in her eye as he pressed closer, his hands where they should never have been, his voice soft, coaxing, as if what he was doing wasn't monstrous.
"You don't have to fight anymore," he said, as her body shook beneath him. "You'll love me one day. I know you will."
And she had laid there, bound, violated, her screams swallowed by the ropes around her mouth, her body trembling with rage, humiliation, and despair.
"You're mine," he whispered again, pressing his lips to her feathers. "Forever."
Her body trembled violently. Her limbs felt like lead. She wanted to move—to fight—to protect the only person who had ever truly seen her. But she couldn't. She was still trapped in that moment, still that same creature left to rot in this forsaken cave. Then his father lunged. She gasped, squeezed her eye shut, waiting for the pain, for the cold bite of the dagger carving into her flesh once more.
But it never came.
"Yuki..." Tasuke's voice called out.
His voice was weak, but it reached her through the haze of fear gripping her. She opened her eye, confusion flickering across her face as she tried to make sense of what had just happened. The fear that had paralyzed her, the moment she had braced for—none of it had come. She wasn't in pain. The dagger hadn't reached her.
Then she saw him.
Tasuke had turned to face her, his breaths uneven, his body trembling. His chest rose and fell in ragged, shallow movements, and it took her a moment to notice the blood beginning to stain his clothes. Her breath caught in her throat. It was only when she looked down that she saw the glint of metal piercing through the fabric. The blade. The same blade she had feared, the same blade that had bound her to this wretched cave for generations. Only now, it wasn't in her.
It was in him.
Her stomach twisted violently, horror clawing its way through her chest. This wasn't happening. It couldn't be real. Tasuke swayed slightly, and she barely heard the sharp, incredulous voice behind him.
"...Why?" His father's voice was filled with fury, but also something else. A deep, almost wounded disbelief. "Why did you protect it?!"
Her claws shook as she reached toward Tasuke but hesitated, terrified that touching him might make it worse. His blood—so much blood—was dripping onto the cold stone beneath them, and for the first time since meeting him, she felt more powerless than when she had been imprisoned in this cave.
"I-I can't heal this," she choked, her voice breaking as panic surged through her. "The dagger seals magic! I can't use my power, I c-can't fix this! W-What should I do?! Tell me what to do!"
Tasuke's breath was unsteady, his shoulders trembling, but his expression remained gentle, calm.
"You have to run," he said.
Yuki's throat tightened, her chest heaving. "No! I won't! I can't leave you!" Tasuke inhaled sharply, his body swaying before he reached behind himself. "Tasuke, don't!"
With a sharp grunt, he yanked the dagger free. Yuki recoiled as a fresh wave of blood poured from the wound, her vision blurring as her breath caught in her throat. He barely reacted, only staring down at the blade in his shaking hands.
"Perhaps this is how it was always meant to be..." His voice was quiet, distant. "To pay for the sins of my family."
Her claws clenched, helplessness clawing at her chest. "D-Don't say that..."
Tasuke turned, facing his father, his grip tightening around the hilt of the dagger. "Move aside."
His father stood frozen. His eyes darted between the blood staining his son's clothes and the weapon in his grip.
"I-I didn't..." His voice cracked. "Tasuke..."
Tasuke took a slow breath, swaying slightly. "Move."
His father's expression remained frozen in shock, his hands still stained with the blood of his own son. The dagger that had been meant for the dragon—the beast he swore had tainted his son—was now an instrument of his own failure. His lips parted, his breath uneven, as if he wanted to protest, to say something that could make sense of what had just happened. But he had no words. Slowly, almost mechanically, he stepped aside.
Yuki barely registered it. She was already moving, pressing herself against Tasuke's side to steady him. His body felt wrong. Too warm. Too unsteady. His weight leaned into her, and even though he tried to keep walking on his own, she could feel how much effort it took.
"Tasuke, w-we need to hurry," she whispered, her voice trembling. "I don't know the modern world but they can help you, right?"
He hummed in response, but it wasn't a real answer. His movements were slow, sluggish, as if the very air around him had turned to water and he was wading through it. His breath hitched every few steps, but he didn't stop, didn't falter. Yuki kept one of her claws pressed against his arm, terrified that if she let go, he would collapse right there in the cave. She could still hear the faint drip of blood hitting the stone beneath them, the steady pat, pat, pat marking their path like a trail leading back to the moment everything shattered.
They just had to reach the entrance. Just a little further. She didn't know what she'd do, but she'll figure it out once they were outside. She could feel him growing weaker, his breaths shorter, shallower. Moonlight finally spilled in from the mouth of the cave. The cool air brushed against her scales, and she felt Tasuke shudder against her.
The moment his feet touched open ground, his legs gave out beneath him. Yuki barely managed to reach for him before he collapsed, but he shifted away from her grasp, moving under his own power. His steps faltered, but he pressed forward, dragging himself toward the rocky surface of the mountain just outside the cave. His back hit the stone, his body sliding down until he was seated at the base, his breath coming in uneven, ragged gasps.
Yuki crouched beside him, her chest heaving, her claws hovering over his wound, unsure of what to do. Her mind raced, trying to grasp some kind of plan, some kind of hope, but nothing came.
"W-We're outside, Tasuke..." she whispered, her voice trembling. "Where should we go? Who can help you?"
She was frantic, searching his face for any kind of answer, any kind of guidance. But he didn't answer. Instead, to her horror, he laughed. Soft. Weak. But real. His head tilted back, his gaze drifting up to the sky, his lips parting slightly as a single tear slipped down his cheek.
"The moon is beautiful, isn't it?"
Yuki froze. Her breath hitched violently, her claws tightening around his arms, as if holding onto him would keep him from slipping away.
"N-No... No, no, no," she whimpered, shaking her head wildly. "D-Don't say that. Please—don't say that!"
His gaze remained fixed on the sky, on the moon's glow. Then, his focus began to slip. His breaths turned shallower.
"No!" Yuki screamed, gripping him, pulling him closer, cradling him against her. "Stay with me! Y-You have to stay with me! Please! Please, don't leave me!"
His body trembled in her grasp. His breath came softer.
"Yuki... Are you still there?"
Her breath hitched. "Y-Yes! Yes, I'm here!" she sobbed, pulling back just enough to see his face. His eyes were heavy, unfocused, but still searching for her.
A weak smile touched his lips.
"I love you."
His last breath left him in a whisper, barely more than the wind.
And then... The night was silent.