Blossoms of the Dark

CVI Shouto: Suicide

Trigger Warnings: 

- The chapter title gives away the biggest one: suicide

- implied PTSD

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When I am deep in the labyrinth of hallways, Endeavor stops me in my tracks.

I stare at him dead in the eye and say nothing.

"You're not going to say 'Out of my way?'"

When no response comes from me, he continues. "The flame control of your right side ... it's still too dangerous, like you can't take your foot off the pedal. But now that you have abandoned all that childish whining, you've finally become the perfect upgrade of me!" He extends his hand toward me. "After you've graduated, come back to me! I'll let you be the one to walk the conqueror's path!"

The words pierce me like never before. Now that he is done with his spiel, I speak carefully. "There's no way I could just let go of that 'whining.'" That is not what he wanted to hear, and I don't feel any remorse for it. Instead, I raise my left hand and study at it. "There's no way things could flip around so easily. It's just that at that moment, that second, I forgot you." I clench my fist in finality.

I walk past him, and know that he is turning his head and gazing at my retreating back. "As for whether that was good or bad, or right, or whatever ... I need to think a little," I finish.

Gratefully, he doesn't follow me. Strolling through the hallways, looking where I can get an extra uniform, I tear off what remains of my shirt and dump it in the dustbin.

With it, my emotional high falls. Those feelings of burning fury, fervor, and conviction from before die. Even my coldness melts away. All I'm left with is an abyss of despair. Overwhelming despair. It's so much that I stop partway and slump against a wall.

My legs bend at the knees, and my elbows rest on them. Subconsciously, my fingers form that steeple, and I rest my head against it, trying to calm myself. It's not working.

I guess what they say about passion is true: it dies as quickly as it comes. Now that all the euphoria has left my body, I just feel so lonely. So tired. So sad.

My birth was not out of love. It was out of one man's selfish desire to create a puppet: he will hold the strings, and I will dance to his tunes. From the start, I was just to be someone's tool. And when I refused, I was punished wrongfully. First he took me away from my siblings, then he took me away from my mother. Now he's taking me away from whatever happiness I can salvage.

Tears prick my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall.

What did I do to deserve any of this? Why was I born into this? If there is such a thing as karma and reincarnation, were my sins from my previous life so terrible that I'm paying for them even in this life? If I died, would I still have to carry them? Or could I be born into another family? Born out of love and live a life full of joy. That would be so much better than what I'm living now.

Maybe if I died, everything would be better ...

"Don't do it," a female voice calls out, bringing me out of my dark train of thoughts.

I peer up, and Hanada-chan's standing just a meter away from me. She observes me with wariness. "Don't do it," she repeats.

"Don't do what?" I ask, confused.

She covers that meter and sits just in front of me. "That expression on your face. I recognize it. I've worn the same expression countless times myself. That's why I'm telling you: don't do it."