ayame's flower realm . JUJUTSU KAISEN

forty one . red canvas

in her crazed state, yasuhiro had witnessed what ayame had done.

it was a blur — everything was a blur for him. his eyelids trembled pathetically when he opened them. he barely registered his situation; he was leaning limply on a tree, sparkling snow landing on him, turning his pitch black uniform into one covered in white patches. he couldn't feel his hands, but that didn't matter, he couldn't even move even if he wanted to.

his unfocused eyes had somehow, thanks to his luck, captured what was happening in front of him.

first, a figure dropping down to the ground, on their knees. the figure's brown hair fluttered in the wind, almost the same way how the long black hair of their opponent swayed left and right. the one with long black hair approached the kneeling figure, their voice muffled in yasuhiro's ears.

at this point, yasuhiro was dangerously close to succumbing back into unconsciousness. he barely understood the next scene in front of him.

the kneeling figure shot up, a glint of light. a rain of red, and then a thud. and then, a screech.

the previously standing figure folded in half, red dripping from their shoulder. the previously kneeling figure, charged forward, driving a black blade into the opponent. pink petals swirling around, shredding their opponent into pieces, colouring their pink petals into a deep red.

drops of water fell to the ground, freezing from the low temperature — their owner had given out.

yasuhiro lifted up his head and squinted his eyes. before he could get any result from his effort though, his neck gave out, and his head lolled to the side. he could feel something warm trickling down his chin, but that was all he knew.

as if sensing the movement, the sword wielding figure turned towards him. yasuhiro watched as they began to walk towards him.

as they neared him, the petals too follow close behind and yasuhiro knew because some had strayed from the crowd, grazing his limb and painted small, red lines onto his skin. however, they gradually inch away from him, as if they belatedly realized his identity.

the figure, however —

yasuhiro glanced at the blade angled right beside his neck through his half-opened eyes. then, with all his strength, lifted up his head.

in the dark night, a pair of red eyes gazed down at him.

ayame opened her eyes to a blinding white ceiling.

it was a ceiling she recognized; she was currently in the infirmary room back at school. one of the lights, she had noticed a while back, was blinking in a threat to completely burn out.

there was also distant voices talking in the  background — is someone crying? — but she couldn't hear what they were saying. they were whispering to one another.

the next thing she noticed was the subtle weight on her forehead. it was damp, and had turned a little warm from her body's temperature. ayame made no move to remove it.

no, she couldn't move. at the moment, all she could do was move her eyes. she glanced to her right.

three figures, two standing and one sitting down — ayame recognized them all. shoko-san and kusakabe-sensei... and is that shinju-senpai? why —

shinju was crying.

shinju's shoulders shook as she buried her face in her hands. shoko's face was full of creases as she talked to kusakabe who had his back towards ayame, but she could see from his body language that he was distressed.

ayame's mouth felt dry, and... disgusting.

it tasted like something had curled up and died in it. her eye twitched, and instinctively she reached out to find a glass of water, to get rid of the foul taste inside her mouth. but she couldn't.

ayame looked down and found that she was... wrapped in a thick blanket.

and when she went to move her limbs, she found that there was something binding them together. at first she thought —

"she's awake."

shoko's voice died down, and shinju's sniffling paused.

the room was dead quiet, giving the illusion that you could even hear a needle dropping onto the floor. the silence was too loud, ayame had almost gone insane merely from it. thankfully, shoko's footsteps entered her ears, growing louder and louder until they stopped right beside her bed. like a sharp blade, they pierced through the clouds of voices that had begun to form in ayame's ears in the few seconds of silence.

shoko didn't say anything — no one said anything other than the last two words. the doctor removed the damp cloth from ayame's forehead. then, she hovered a hand in front of the girl's face.

ayame blinked up at the hand. then, peeking through shoko's fingers, she stared up at the woman in confusion. the two stared at each other, one standing and one wrapped in a thick blanket. after a while, shoko took back her hand, moving to free ayame from the blanket.

if ayame had paid attention, she would've noticed that while shoko was holding out a hand towards her, the other three people in the room observed unblinkingly, shoulders tensed.

when she was finally able to sit up, ayame glanced at kinji; he was the one who had spoken earlier. her classmate was sitting beside her bed, looking straight ahead with his arms crossed over his chest.

shoko checked up on her, asking questions if she felt off somewhere, if somehow a part of her still hurt, if she missed any injuries and such. for questions like that, ayame shook her head. other than a little tired, she felt fine. the itching taste in her mouth was bothering her, but she figured it'd be better to let shoko do her duties first.

then, came the question that made ayame pause,

"do you remember where you left the sword?"

it was out of the blue, when the previous questions were about her wellbeing and injuries. initially, ayame didn't even register the question and moved to shake her head. when she replayed it inside her mind, though...

thinking back on it, it was like a blank canvas suddenly being drenched in red paint.

ayame, the now red canvas, widened her eyes. the taste in her mouth became even more revolting as she looked into the red eyes of shinju who had come to stand behind shoko.