The Hearts Crossfire/// A Kou Minamato x Mitsuba Sousuke story

Back to Mine

TW: School Shooting, Child Abuse, Description of Injury and Blood, Gore. Please don't read if any of these make you uncomfortable.

POV: Mitsuba

{11 years old}

I was sitting in the classroom, not bothering to pay attention when the first round was heard. Several shots fired could be heard echoing through the halls as we all got quiet. I turned to my best friend, worried I was imagining things. The look of terror on her face confirmed it was real and I reached my hand forward to comfort her.

"Don't worry," I said, "It's going to be-" Direct shots fired into our classroom cut me off. Everyone screamed and the teacher motioned for us to get down. On the floor I had a view of the door, and saw the attacker reach a gloved hand into the window. The window was broken by bullets. As the gunner fumbled with the handle trying to open the door, I turned to my friend once again.

Her eyes were bloodshot, and tears cascaded down her face. I scooted closer to her and reached for her, but she looked down and lifted her hand.

Blood.

Her hand was covered in blood and her white school shirt started turning a vibrant red. I made a sobbing noise which set off more bullets showering over us into the room. She held her bloody hand to her face telling me to be quiet. Crawling closer to me with a pained expression, she told me to do something.

"Rub my blood on you." She whispered. My tears fell and she grabbed my shoulders forcing me to stare into her slowly dimming eyes. "Rub my blood on you and lay down. Don't breathe, wait for them to go. Stay safe."

With every word her voice became lower in volume and her grip loosened. She smiled at me; her tears having stopped flowing as she accepted her way out of this world. I held back my sobs and watched her stop breathing, still with a smile gracing her face.

I froze when the attacker started ramming into the door, police sirens sounding in the background. I glanced frantically around the room but when my eyes landed on HER, I knew I had to do what she asked of me. I squeezed her hand one last time before laying in her pile of blood, a tear fell from my eye, and I held my breath. I lay next to her, and closed my eyes, imagining a peaceful place where she was happy and safe. She was smiling and waving at me, but she faded into nothing when I reached for her.

There was nothing after that. Just darkness, an empty void reminding me she wasn't in my life anymore.

When I woke up there was a blinding light shining in my eyes, and there were people speaking to me. What they were saying was a mystery, but they seemed relieved when I opened my eyes.

They checked my vitals and asked me questions, but I didn't answer any of them. I could barely even hear what they were asking me because of the loud ringing in my ears. A man pointed at my bruised arms and turned to the other, what I'm assuming was paramedic. They studied my bruises for a while, but I think they just wrote it up as injuries from falling on something during the attack.

When they let me go sit on a bench to wait for my guardians, I put my jacket on and held my arms in a hug position. I sat there for a long time before anyone came for me. My foster Dad rushed towards me, mock worry on his face. He checked me for injuries and went off to talk to the paramedics who checked me.

He got permission to take me home after a few minutes and he gently guided me to the car. Once inside, however, his demeaner changed and he glared at me through his mirror. "You made me miss a very important meeting just to pick you up. You should have just sacrificed yourself and gotten shot. So many important lives would have been saved and I wouldn't need to deal with you anymore." His voice dripped with venom and his eyes held truth to his words. He didn't like it when instead of answering I turned and looked out the window. He scoffed and said underneath his breath, "Selfish little brat." and started the car.

When we got to the house, he dragged me in and shoved me through the doorway to the basement. I couldn't stabilize myself and fell down the flight of stairs onto hard concrete. I rubbed my back and looked up; he stood looming over the stairs. My foster Dad snickered and slammed the door shut, the jostling I knew as the locking of the door appeared and left when his heavy footsteps walked away.

I stood up with the help of the laundry machine and wiped the dust off my pants. I noticed a small smear of blood on my hand, and it reminded me of what I did to survive. Why did I do that? I would have been free from this life. From the hell I was sent away to the moment I was born. I should have let them kill me.

I started shaking and I felt the tears begin to fall. I unzipped my jacket and let out a sob when it was off of me. Her blood was covering my torso, and I collapsed onto my knees. I held myself tightly as the tears raked through my body. The small shaking turned vicious, and I laid my head onto the concrete. A blood curdling scream left my throat, and I slammed my fist into the floor.

At some point the itching started. Everywhere her blood made contact with my body it itched painfully. I started grabbing at my shirt, nails ripping at the fabric. I continued crying as a clawed my way out of my clothes, leaving on my underwear. I stared at the pile of clothes, ripped to shreds, and glared at them as if they were what killed her.

It took me a long time to calm myself down and when I did, I grabbed my jacket, laying it on top of myself. I curled into a tight ball using my jacket as a blanket. I stared off into space thinking of her, trying to remember what she looked like, but her image was already fading from my memory. Her bright smile and pigmented eyes turned dull and grey, and she faded into dust as I fell asleep on the cold floor.