The skeletal hand never touched him.
The shadow-thing that had been Hana froze mid-lunge, its needle-filled teeth inches from Yuki's face. The cracks in the alley wall pulsed once, then sealed with a sound like grinding stone. The reaching hands and screaming faces vanished. The oppressive pressure lifted.
Silence.
Yuki slumped against the brick wall, his legs giving out. He was trembling violently, the crimson energy flickering out around his hands, leaving him cold and drained. The burns on his arms throbbed with each ragged breath. He stared at the spot where the shadow-thing had been. Only faint wisps of dissipating black smoke remained.
It recedes, Kage's voice observed, its usual cold laced with something new – curiosity. The veil thins. The barrier between worlds weakens. Your trauma… it creates doorways.
Yuki didn't respond. He just sat there, the image of Hana's transforming ghost seared into his mind. The cracks. The fingers. The teeth. He'd almost lost her completely, not to death, but to the very darkness he courted. The horror was paralyzing.
He needed to move. To get away from this alley, from the undercity, from the echoes of fire and screaming. He pushed himself up, every muscle protesting. He needed somewhere safe. Somewhere normal.
The thought struck him with the force of a physical blow. Aoi.
She was normal. She represented the life he'd lost, the warmth he could no longer feel. She'd been worried about him before. Now… after the fire, after the things he'd become… would she even want to see him? The risk was immense. The exorcist was hunting him. The Spider might recover. And now… whatever that crack in reality had been. Bringing his darkness near Aoi felt like poisoning a well.
But the alternative was unbearable. The crushing loneliness. The constant fear. The hollow ache. He needed a reminder of what he was fighting for, however corrupted that fight had become.
He moved through the city's backstreets like a ghost, sticking to shadows, avoiding people. The setting sun painted the sky in hues of blood and ash. He felt exposed, vulnerable. Every siren, every shout, made him flinch.
He reached Aoi's apartment building as dusk settled. It was a modest, well-kept building, a world away from the industrial decay he'd emerged from. He hesitated in the alley across the street, looking up at her window. Light glowed softly within.
Could he do this? Should he?
The anchor, Kage whispered. A fragile thing. But useful. A reminder of the warmth you've lost. A tether to the humanity you're shedding.
The demon's words were chilling, but they resonated. He needed that tether. Even if it was dangerous. Even if it was selfish.
He crossed the street and entered the building's lobby. It was clean, quiet. The elevator ride to her floor felt like an ascent into a foreign land. He stood outside her apartment door, listening. He could hear faint music inside. Soft. Calming.
He raised a hand to knock, then hesitated. What would he say? Sorry I disappeared? Sorry I smell like smoke and death? Sorry I'm a monster?
Before he could lose his nerve, he knocked. Three sharp raps.
The music stopped. Footsteps approached. The peephole darkened.
"Yuki-kun?" Aoi's voice, muffled but filled with surprise.
The lock clicked. The door opened.
Aoi stood there, her eyes wide. She looked tired, there were faint shadows beneath them, but she was alive. Warm. Real. She took in his appearance – the soot-streaked face, the makeshift bandages on his arms (he'd torn strips from his shirt to cover the burns), the gauntness, the utter exhaustion in his eyes.
"Oh my god," she breathed. "Yuki-kun… what happened? You look… terrible."
He couldn't speak. The sight of her, the sheer normalcy of her, was overwhelming. A lump formed in his throat. He just stood there, trembling slightly.
Aoi's expression softened from shock to profound concern. She stepped aside. "Come in. Quickly."
He stepped into her small, neat apartment. The warmth hit him like a physical blow. It was almost painful after the constant cold he carried. The air smelled of lavender and something baking. It was so… clean. So alive.
"Sit," Aoi instructed, guiding him to her small sofa. "I'll get the first aid kit. Your arms…"
He sank onto the soft cushions, the luxury almost painful after days of concrete and grime. He watched as Aoi bustled into the bathroom, returning moments later with a white box. She knelt beside him, gently unwrapping the makeshift bandages on his forearms.
Her breath hissed when she saw the burns. They were ugly – deep, weeping, the skin around them red and inflamed, the black scars pulsing faintly at the edges.
"Yuki… these look awful. What caused this?"
He couldn't tell her the truth. Purification Chains wielded by a fanatical exorcist. "Fire," he managed to rasp, his voice hoarse. "Accident."
Aoi didn't press. She worked silently, cleaning the burns with antiseptic that stung fiercely. He gritted his teeth, but didn't pull away. Her touch was gentle, careful. It felt foreign. Kind.
As she worked, Yuki felt something shift inside him. The constant hum in his bones seemed to lessen, the crushing weight of his guilt and fear easing slightly. The hollow ache didn't vanish, but it felt… manageable. For the first time in days, he felt a flicker of something other than terror or rage. It wasn't happiness. It was… peace. A fragile, temporary respite.
He closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the sofa. He could hear Aoi's soft breathing, the gentle clink of the first aid supplies, the distant city noise muffled by the apartment walls. For a few precious moments, he wasn't Yuki the soul-eater, Yuki the abomination, Yuki the hunted. He was just a boy sitting on a sofa, being cared for.
It was an illusion. He knew it. Kage's presence was a cold knot in his mind, a reminder of the truth. The burns throbbed, the scars pulsed. The exorcist was still out there. The Spider might recover. The cracks in reality might reopen.
But for now, in this small, warm apartment, with Aoi's gentle hands tending his wounds, he allowed himself the illusion. He allowed himself a moment's respite. He clung to it desperately, knowing it was fleeting, knowing the darkness would come rushing back the moment he stepped outside. But for now, it was enough.