>>5976595>>5976598>>5976607>>5976612>>5976622>>5976624>>5976651>>5976739>>5976749You immediately turn away. You can’t look at that.
Staggering back a few steps, you grip the wooden railing of the bridge and just attempt to breath.
In, out.
Get it together.
In, out.
Get it together.
Slowly, the fog on your senses begins to clear. The wooden rail reminds you of your figurines, and just how much of a monster you are for trying to make art when you-
You let go of the railing.
In, out.
Get it together.
Where are your teammates?
Turning back around, you scan the battlefield. Denki is gone, unsummoned now that it’s over. You had no idea where Masami was. She clearly never even exited the woods. Naoki is busying himself tossing bodies into the tollhouse. Gruesome work.
You begin walking towards him, but stumble. Your legs are shaking, and more than that, you feel weak. Your body is betraying you and your strength is waning. You focus on breathing, but it’s getting difficult. Fast, shallow breaths, unable to get any air. It feels like there’s a heavy metal rod pressing into your stomach, electrically charged to cause your muscles to tense up and spasm.
Get it together.
You force yourself to walk towards Naoki. One leg in front of the other. Awkward, like you’re on stilts. In your mind, a dull mantra. You were fine. You weren’t hurt, none of this was lethal. It was just your body rebelling, and it would pass.
He looks at you as you approach, a cold gleam in his eyes. Gesturing flippantly to the destruction, all he has to say is “I’ve got this. Clean up the blood.”
You weren’t in any condition to argue about it, or care. It had to be done. You would probably have suggested the same thing if he weren’t already acting. It had to be done.
It had to be done.
You use the water bullet jutsu to hose down the bloody patches, as well as the gore that Naoki wouldn’t reasonably be able to move without a shovel. It all goes into the river.
Your clone helps you. He’s dropped his transformation by now, and looking at yourself in the mirror, this kid looks pale. Sick to his stomach. Dazed.
You can’t bear to look at him, so you dispel him into a puddle.
All you wanted to do was get the fuck out of here, find some dark corner to crawl into where you could just hide away. Forever. There was no reason to ever come out again. Even the sunlight and the chirping birds felt like some kind of sick lie to you right now. A joke.
But it wasn’t about you. Civilians would be passing through soon, and they didn’t need to see this. They didn’t need to know this ever even happened, especially not Akimitsu, Fumiko, or Hana. That’s the only thought that restores some amount of vigor to your limbs.
Eventually you finish. Naoki saunters up to you, gazing around analytically.
