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Daichi stared down with numb satisfaction, his frame trembling from the thrill. His hands ran warm with blood, the liquid crimson fresh, the fluid staining his skin. He looked down at the mess before him, a pair of box cutters glimmering. Laying beneath him was a man, his head caved in with fist-sized bludgeons. Onyx black ink stained his bald head, an unmistakable symbol glaring back at him. It was that of a Yakuza, something he grew to hate more than anything. Burrowed deep into the man's temple is a thick and sharp blade, yellow box cutters standing straight from the deceased man. His features are blackened with bruises, his jaw crooked in an offset manner; Indicating that Daichi had a delightful time busting it.
However, nothing about this was delightful.
Drawing him from his buzz was a whimper, the sound soft, almost mistaken for a rattle of a wasted life. Turning, Daichi was faced with a heartbreaking sight: It was his sister, clutching tightly onto her heaving chest. A large wound was opened where her heart should be, streaks of red flowing at a steady, unstoppable pace. Her legs had long since given out, the colour draining from her feet and hands. Her head is drooped to the side, her eyes wide with fear, pain undeniably painted her face. Uncontrollable shakes racked her frame, causing her weakening bones to smack and knock against the concrete floor and walls around her.
Coming back to the present, Daichi stumbled forward, dropping heavily to his knees.
He clamoured over to his sister, his arms reaching out to hold her. The two connected with a warm embrace, their hearts connecting as one. Daichi shifted as he scooted forward, arms gently moving Akemi's wavering frame. He tucked her head into the crook of his neck, sloppily chopped locks tickling his bare neck. He let her rest her legs over his lap, her chest laid heavily atop his. His breaths came short as he looked down at her, any room for thought cut entirely. His eyes grew warm as Akemi bled onto him, a thick cord of warmth drawing a single thought together: She was dying, and he was not.
"Akemi-san?" Daichi whimpered, his hands trembling softly. He watched as she lifted slightly, her olive eyes gazing distantly at his. Her brow upturned with sadness, her features contorting with want. A want to stay, to protect, to love.
However, they both knew that couldn't continue for long.
"Hey, it's ok. I'm ... I'm ok." Akemi rested her head against her brother's, her words quiet, strained even. She lifted her hand up to his, her fingers slick with red. She watched as warm tears rolled down Daichi's face, his lashes growing wet with salty tears. Her heart ached at Daichi's pain, her mind wanting more than anything to reach for him, to embrace him back and tell him it was ok. To tell him that everything would be alright, that they were safe, that she would live.
But ... that would be a lie, wouldn't it?
"You're not ... you're dying." Daichi cried, his hands gently cupping his sister. His words dripped with sorrow, a sense of dread and grief overcoming his small mind. Akemi was only 19, she was the youngest she ever felt, and the oldest she'd ever be.
"Says ... Says who?" Akemi asked. She knew her attempt was futile, her convincing had always been less than stellar. Even the blind knew she was dying, she could feel it now: Her life slipping from her fingers. She could feel the excitement fall from her grasp, the energy and motivation for life. Her future fell like sand in her hand, leaking back into the desert of time, where she would become a memory in someone's life, a chapter in someone's book.
Her hopes for a future began to die with her, shattering what little life she had left. Her dream of finding a man, of falling in love, of marrying and living her days with the one she wed; All of it seemed so far away. The children she wanted to have, the child she had now, kept hidden beneath her shirt, they all would go with her. She thought back on the surprise it would've given her family, how excited everyone would be. She imagined what her baby could've looked like, how pretty their eyes would look, and how thick their hair could've grown. She imagined her lover cradling their bundle of joy, whispering sweet nothings to who she would devote her whole life. And now, looking up at her baby brother, she imagined him with his future nephew, and how tears of joy would've fallen when he learned they shared the same name.
Every plan she had was now meaningless, every hope, every receipt, every cent saved ... it would all mean nothing.
Taking in a deep breath, Akemi shed a tear.
Not for herself, but for everyone else.
For her sisters, who would live without a friend. For her brother, who would live without a sister. For her lover, who would live with a broken heart. For her grandparents, who would bury another child they helped raise.
And lastly for her baby, who never got a chance to breathe the fresh air of the outside world, who never got to laugh and smile at the little things; Who never got to live the life they were promised.
She would never admit it, but she didn't want to go. She had so much to live for, so much to do, to see, to experience.
But now she couldn't, and it hurt.
It hurt more than anything in the world.
So, for the last lingering moments Akemi has left, she chose to mourn. Not just herself, but for those who she would leave behind, and hurt in the process.
"Please ... please Kimi-san ... don't leave me. I need you." Daichi pleads, bringing Akemi from her daze. She focused down on her little brother, who wept so quietly, holding her so close; As if when he let go, she would disappear. And in a way, he was right.
Closing her eyes, Akemi swallowed any tears she had left. She breathed a staggard breath as she composed herself, choosing to stay strong, not for her, but for Daichi. Opening them once more, she leaned down to peer up at Daichi, her words as comforting as they were hurtful.
"Don't be sad Chi-Chi-san, I'll always be with you."
She smiled so sweetly, her lips curling into that sweet major C that Daichi loved so. Her hand gently cupped his, her touch warm, inviting, like it was meant to be. Her eyes crinkled in only the way that she could, olive eyes hidden behind thick lashes.
Daichi couldn't help but weep.
Akemi was always so strong, stronger than he'll ever be. Even now, lying crumpled in his arms, ribbons of red dripping from pink-tinted lips, she was strong.
So, so strong.
Daichi let his contests go unsaid, the fight against her promise useless. Instead, he pressed a kiss to her head, letting her know that she was right, she would always be right by his side, even after death.
Tilting Daichi's head, Akemi felt her breath come short, her time coming to a close. She gently touched her forehead to his, her eyes growing heavy.
"I will love you unconditionally, Daichi Miyazaki. I will follow you to the ends of the Earth, past the sun, and beyond the stars. Never forget that."
Akemi's words faded slowly, her vowels drawn out into long strings. Her hands loosened their grip on Daichi's skin, her weight gingerly becoming forceful. Her words were purposeful, as they were the first words she said. She doesn't remember it, but their first meeting was one for the history books. She was sat poised in her father's lap, her bedridden mother holding Daichi, who was only hours old. She was allowed to hold Daichi with assistance, as her father helped support both of them. Fumi recalls the stars in Akemi's eyes, and how excited she was to finally be a big sister. Akemi let Daichi hold her hand, their fists similar in size. Her small body was large enough to curl over his, bending enough for her to press a kiss to his tender forehead, and the room was quiet enough for her whisper to be heard, and to be remembered by all who heard it.
Lying in his arms, Akemi felt as if her life had been complete. Any mistake she made, any chance she missed, it no longer mattered. Daichi's arms wrapped so securely around her, keeping her warm and close, it made her happy. She was glad that this was how she would go.
She was happy that her dying breath would be shared with Daichi, and Daichi alone.
For he was the only one she entrusted her life with, and the only one she wished to say goodbye to.
"I won't."
"Swear it."
"I-I swear it."
"Good ... I'll see you on the moon."
Daichi listened as his sister breathed her last breath, her lungs escaping with one last try. Her body slumped with a heavy slack, her face falling slightly. Her head fell forward, her features smearing blood across Daichi's shirt. He could feel her body become dead weight, her muscles relaxing only in the way a dead person could. The weight of the world crashed on him at once, his heart thrumming like ocean waves in his ears.
He didn't hear himself scream, or feel himself claw at her frame, begging for her to come back; For her to blink and smile, to giggle out an "I gotcha!" and forever tease at how much he panicked. But she didn't. And she never will.
He only came to when the paramedics arrived, peeling her then stiff corpse from his embrace.
He didn't speak after she was gone, he couldn't bring himself to. His tears ran dry once Fumi arrived in his hospital room, and her warm embrace dragged him from his sorrow and buried him deep in a depression. He couldn't bring himself to cry when her autopsy came, and he learned of the nephew that was soon to be but would never come.
He only drew himself to speak when there was soil over her grave, and a bouquet of red roses rested where she now was. He sat ever so carefully next to her grave, the dirt freshly turned over, staining his brown and green suit. He leaned against her tombstone like it was her; As if she were there to support him, just like she always did.
His words came in a whisper, just barely audible to himself. As he spoke, a tear fell from his eye, soaking the brown dirt beneath his feet. His statement was a promise, not to him, but for her. And he would keep it, until the day he died:
"I'll see you on the moon."