yandere genshin oneshots!

☏ truth sword - yandere kazuha

tw ; stabbing :D

(Old, being redone)

"We hold hands as the lightning dances across the horizon, .. "

Kazuha held your hands down against the bed, one arm resting on your wrist and the other holding his sword to your neck. You screamed and kicked out under him, tears streaming.
Month seven, and it was hard to believe you were still stuck here, as he still pretended to be your boyfriend.
It was the fourteenth time this week you had tried to break up with him, and this time, he quit the passive - aggressive ignoring of your desperate attempts to leave, and started screaming harsh insults and throwing things. You had summoned your sword, and tried to attack him, and he had retaliated with slashes so controlled and perfect it seemed he was not angry at. "I tell you again and again. Again and again and again." He released you, and stepped away, clearly angry. "Your nothing, nothing, without me. " He stepped across the threshold of your apartment, and grabbed your vision resting on the table in the middle of the one-room space. You sat up quickly as he held it up to his eye, and dashed over to where he stood, resting yourself at your feet. Tears still streaming, chest still heaving, you grabbed onto him and sobbed. " please.. I'm sorry. I won't do it again." Kazuha simply frowned at you, and kicked you roughly.
"You always resort to begging," he whispered, and chucked your vision out the window.

"and your head buries itself inside my chest."

Kazuha stroked your hair lightly, as you cozied up to him, nestled into his lap. He smiled, and your eyes welled up with tears. You were, very clearly, shaking. Kazuha, of course, paid no mind. "Don't run away again, please. You'd be so lost without me." He grabbed your arm, and you gasped in pain. He had stabbed into your forearm with his blade, carving out the letter 'K' in beautiful writing. This was your punishment. Throwing away your vision had been his first step to obtaining control. This was his next, and, if things went his way, last. "You should have told me the truth. I could have changed, for you. I love you." His hands gripped your face, and brought it closer to his to envelop you in a kiss. But you knew he was a liar. Even when this was normal, and you had dated the way people were supposed to, he had been a liar. Pulling away from you, strands of saliva hanging in the air, Kazuha grinned once again. "Now, it's my turn for pleasure."
You cried again, as you always did.
Kazuha paid no mind.

"though the sky remains dark, it promises everlasting happiness, and the one thing I fear most in the world."

You stared out the window, rain dancing across the surface and chunks of hair in your hands. It was beginning to fall out again. Kazuha stared at you from the kitchen area, concerned. Understanding him was the reason you were here, and you were beginning to realize you had never done that at all. You hadn't attempted anything to disrupt him for the past three weeks, too exhausted and depressed to try anything. You were simply... done. Kazuha walked elegantly up to you, and placed a hand on your shoulder. Was it because he was strong and perfect, and you were weak and a fool? Was it your fault for trusting him, for allowing him as your friend for years and years before finally giving him exactly what he wanted? A bit of love? And eventually, he thirsted for more and more until it was too much. Too much for a sick person like you, with no time and no hope. All you did was supply him with what he wanted. Someone to lord over. A fool.
You looked up to him, sickly and exhausted. It was not your fault you were sick, or had loved a demented boy. It was his fault, all of it. But he always made you believe otherwise. You grabbed the arm with the letter 'K' carved into it, and wished he hadn't taken away your sword so you could cut it off. "I hate you."
The one thing he feared, was that.

"until the lightning strikes too close, and sets you on fire."

Kazuha finished that last line with a flourish, and signs his name near the bottom of the parchment. The strokes are quick and elegant, and leave not one spot of ink out of place. He remains perfect. Quickly, he recites it aloud, smiling at you from his seat at the other side of the table.
You remain silent, wondering what it symbolized.

But you knew.
You always knew.

It was the truth.