Your room is pitch black when you claw your way back into consciousness, drowning in the deafening silence. Your head feels stuffed with cotton. You stare at the numbers on the bedside clock and struggle to comprehend them.
Twenty-four. Twenty-four. It's such a nice number. Especially in December, when the snow falls in a dizzying fury like millions of pieces of broken stars. December, when a hot chocolate mustache is permanently branded on your upper lip, and sticky-sweet icing lingers on the tip of your tongue. December, when you and Gojo spend the holidays together with Megumi and Tsumiki, huddled together under mounds of blankets.
There's something else. Something else you've forgotten. The twenty-fourth of December . . . This date is important in another way, but you can't even begin to untangle the hows and the whys of it all. The concept is too perplexing in your muddled state.
With effort, you prop yourself up on your elbow. Something buzzes angrily in your skull. "Yuta?"
There's no response.
You lie back down and rub your eyes with the heels of your hands, trying to quell the buzzing. Think, think. This is important. The twenty-fourth of December. Something's going to happen today. Something's going to happen –
"You're all going to die." Rika, pale and lifeless, standing in the doorway watching you. Her lips are stretched up in that terrible, terrible contortion of a smile. "You're all going to die, and then Yuta and I will be together forever."
A cold awareness floods back into you at the memory. These hadn't just been the mad ramblings of a Curse twisted by love; no, you think that there had been a kernel of truth buried deep beneath her words. Something's going to happen, and Rika knows. Something's –
Getou, you remember at last, as the last of the fog finally clears itself away from your mind. Getou, and his threat to unleash a hoard of Curses upon the world. Today. Now. Has the fight already started? What's happening? Where are your friends? Are they fighting too?
Phone. You need your phone. You need to ask someone with the answers to your questions. Testing your abilities, you move your arms and legs, find that they're still weighed down by tubes. Ignoring the stab of pain in your arms when you struggle, you grope about under your pillow, where you'd last tucked it away. You start to dial Gojo's number, your fingers numb and shaking with fear. The line crackles, ringing feebly and breaking every few seconds. No signal.
You're filled with a sick feeling of dread. No. No. It has to be a coincidence. Your gaze flits over to the scenery outside your open window. The darkness begins to look ominous. The branches of trees look like skeletal fingers grabbing at the sky. The dead leaves scuttle away, as though in fear.
You want to believe that you're just being paranoid. It's just a coincidence. It's just a coincidence. You're in school. There's nothing to fear. Everybody's safe. But your inability to contact anyone worries you. It's almost as if you're being isolated and caged away from the outside world, existing in a separate space. Whatever medicines are numbing your body are no longer effective at keeping your heart still. It's pounding in your ears. It's hard to breathe.
"Yuta?" You ask again. Your voice is a garbled moan. "Yuta?"
As though in response, an explosion buffets the infirmary, shaking the ground and rattling the doors. The force of the explosion rocks both your body and your bed in violent, unceasing tremors. Outside, a cloud of dust billows up into the sky. Deep within you is the dull sense of panic, but your body refuses to react.
Again, you have to struggle to sit up. It's as though your blood has turned to sand. You are an hourglass. All the sand goes rushing from your head, and you can hear it whooshing. "No. Please." You don't know what you're asking. You don't know who can hear you.
He's here. He has to be. Why? After unleashing his Curses, surely he would want to bear witness to the ensuing chaos. He should have no reason to come here, unless –
"Yuta." You only realize it once you've said his name.
Of course he would come for Yuta. The Curses were all just a diversion, meant to distract Gojo and the other teachers from his real goal. And you are trapped here, uselessly burdened with this knowledge.
The second tremor rocks the infirmary back and forth like an upside-down pendulum. Through the window, you can see more clouds of dust obscuring the familiar scenery of the school grounds.
Yuta.
He's still fighting, then. Desperately trying to keep everyone safe. But who will keep him safe?
I did. Was supposed to. I promised him.
Every muscle in your body hurts, and there's a coppery, bitter taste in your mouth. But the pain is progress; it means that your limbs are no longer numb.
Move, move, move.
You unplug the needles, one by one, and stagger out of the bed.
