Kny •《Bury Me, My Love》

1. No Room in Hell

Death is usually an unpleasant experience.

For starters, there is no pleasant way to go - except, maybe, dying while asleep. But this is a privilege very few people will ever have. For most mortals, death is a painful, messy experience.

The luckiest ones have a quick end, while others die thrashing and fighting for dear life.

Unfortunately, the "dying" part is only the beginning.

The funeral happens - or not, depending on the situation. Some people will get a nice, cozy coffin to be forever buried in a hole just for them; others might end up in the ocean, or turned into ashes, or maybe end up simply forgotten in a lonely house or forest, never to be seen again until they're reduced to a pile of bones.

The worms crawl in and out. Eyes, brain, and other soft tissue disappear. The body swells. The coffin leaks. The smell is unbearable.

Douma blinked, wondering what part of the process he was doing wrong.

Death? Check.

Coffin? Check.

Burial? Check.

Death?

He took a deep breath. He really shouldn't - after all, there was only a limited supply of air inside of the coffin he was currently trapped in. But said limited supply of air was exactly why he felt compelled to take a deep breath.

That, and the fact that he actually had no idea of how he ended up inside of a coffin.

He remembered dying alongside that butterfly demon, as both of them got disintegrated by the void he had pushed them into.

How was there enough of his body left for a proper burial?

In fact... who was even left to bury him? Was the battle against the demon king over already?

Why was he awake? Was he even dead?

Douma took another deep breath, closing his eyes. Not that it changed anything since the inside of the coffin was pitch black. So many questions... and no one around to answer them.

Part of him wanted to panic already, but the Pillar forced himself to stay calm.

If he was still conscious, he couldn't have been buried too long ago, right? Therefore, the dirt over his grave should still be soft and easy to dig out.

He wouldn't be able to use any techniques in such an inclosed space.

The raw strength of his muscles would have to suffice for his escape.

But he remembered dying. Really dying. And his leg that got severed during the last battle was still missing - and by the love of god, it hurt like hell.

So, maybe... he was now some sort of undead creature? Perhaps a lot of time had passed already, the dirt would have settled, and who knew how deep his grave was.

Douma put a hand on the lid, pressing up, examining his situation. There wasn't enough room to properly place his arms and gather enough strength to push up.

And he could tell, somehow, that there was a lot of weight over the coffin. The box felt stuffy. The smell of stale air and mud was nauseating.

There was no doubt left. Douma had been, indeed, buried alive.

And maybe not as recently as he wanted to believe.

"Well, shit,"Douma mumbled to himself.

The entire coffin shook as the Pillar punched it as hard as the tight space allowed him to.

Which wasn't a lot.

If I knew I'd end up like this one day, thought Douma, punching the lid again, I would have written a will asking to be buried in the worst of all caskets. One that would probably break just from weight of the dirt over it.

He did it again, and this time, something caught his attention - it appeared to be a metallic sound.

Have I gone mad already?

He punched again. Again... and then, Douma realized he wasn't imagining things. He could hear a faint rattling of metal all around his coffin.

Chains.

Some idiot had chained his goddamn coffin.

Douma took another deep breath. His current situation, which then seemed like the worst thing that ever happened to him, had managed to get even worse.

His wail of pure rage and terror could be heard from over the grave.

He was allowed to panic now, right?

The wood was sturdy. Douma had been hoping to break the lid on its hinges and lift the entire thing off.

But now, even that seemed impossible... Oh, if only his body wasn't so weakened... He'd surely get out of that thing in a matter of seconds.

Still, the thought that someone actually wanted to keep him trapped was enough to make Douma's blood boil.

The former Ice Pillar hastily turned to his side, struggling to move in the tight space. His now burning hatred for that someone, whoever that was, was enough to bless him with another plan on the spot.

Douma pressed his back on one wall of the coffin while putting his hands and his remaining foot on the opposite wall. And then, he pushed with his whole body.

And he pushed.

For who knows how long.

He was sweating and feeling like passing out from the lack of air by the time he heard a truly heavenly sound.

Wood cracking.

It cracked on his back. Douma further pushed for as long as he could, hoping to increase the damage, stopped only by the sturdy chains all over the coffin.

Turning around, placing his hands on the broken spot, he pushed again, now focusing on the places where the chains weren't wrapped directly over.

Despite the suffocating feel and his muscles burning in pain, a nearly manic grin spread across Douma's face.

Whoever had tried to trap him here would soon regret it.

(Ignore the Kanji in the eyes for now)