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𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐉𝐈𝐑𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐎
Cursed, that's what he was.
Sano Majirou was cursed. He is condemned to take people's lives like the plague. People die at his hands, they instead of him and even for him.
He thought that maybe by eradicating his past, by removing those shackles that choked him, maybe he could free himself, and get atonement. He had planned to hunt every single one of his previously loved ones down, starting with you.
Threatening Hanma to leave you. He was a valuable asset, killing him was equivalent to a waste of talent, alas he was far too adamant to let you live.
Love was a strange thing, it was such a humane expression that it was foreign to him. Something buried deep in the catacombs of his cerebrum, untouched since Emma died, since 12 years.
Later he decided that instead of killing his past he wanted to preserve the remnants of it, however, how can a sinner like him wish for such a holy thing. How could he wish for an angel like you?
He realized he wanted you...not as a lover, not a family, but rather as a specimen, to see how long it takes for you to crumble in his hands. To destroy you, to see you cry and whimper before him, to manipulate you into submission, to puppet you into ruins.
Manjiro knew what was happening from the very start, how could he have forgotten you? How could he have forgotten the way you talked, the way you smiled; Mikey was watching your every step, how you cried when Shuji died, how you teamed up with Naoto. How he let you capture Sanzu, Kakucho and Kokonoi. How he let you make that deal go to waste.
Your efforts were truly adorable.
He should have killed you while he had a chance, but he couldn't... He couldn't kill his entertainment.
It took him years to realize this, but
He is a sinner. He has attended too many funerals in one life. Shinichiro, Izana, Emma, Baji... everyone died because of him.
He was sure you too would die, the only person in this world that he had left. He won't be able to bear that...not anymore, please.
He could hear footsteps coming from Sanzu's room, he sat on a bench, fiddling with his gun. The metal was cold, but as hold as his icy hands or his frozen heart.
His childhood self was like water and his current self was like ice.
"Water listens, it understands, but ice does not forgive."
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