Cold hearted (KyojuroxReader)

Chapter 62:Tamayo

~*(y,n)'s POV*~
     You would almost think that the stench of alcohol in the bar would upset my stomach more than earlier, maybe even enable some reconsideration to my god-awful decision... you'd definitely think so, but I lost the ability for any type of intelligent thought the moment I saw the Take and Uroko on that fabric. It was still vibrant... still... it's practically stained itself into my own clothes, painting me in nothing but blue and green. It's sickening.

     "Two shots... please. I don't care what they are, just make it strong."

     "It's first thing in the morning, ma'am. What could possibly make you want to drink this early?" ... The bartender glued his bushy mouth shut after that when I set out my money a little less than friendly, sitting down at one of the tables and laying my head down with a thud.

     I don't need anyone asking me what I've stumbled in here for, it's exactly why I'm here. I'm already crying about it enough, I'd much rather get it out of my head. Wash it down... wash away the sight of his face. I buried it at one point, a time in my life when I was almost sure that he was gone and this story could be over. It's not though... because this is Taiso. It wouldn't be worthy without the encore.

     That man... he should have moved on from everything by now, and just the thought of his existence is living off of every beat that my heart makes. The sorrows that follow his memory frag behind him like an anchor, taking me with them into the deepest parts of those murky waters...

     I barely gave a glance to the beverages set before me as I snatched up one of the cups, not wasting my time to guzzle it down. All I can do is cleanse my palette from the toxins of the hive, ignore the red eyes as they watch me wallow in more of their poison. ... I was stripped of so much that night, but he lost more than what it was worth. Muro's dead, and that man is all that's left from the ashes that we once were.

     I shivered at the burn after the second glass gone in my disposal, already a slight warmth in the centers of my cheeks. I never make it a point to drink, but this isn't me. I've become mad in the fragments I'm still trying to mend to this day. I lose myself every time I think about all that everyone lost... and all because of me. I was selfish, foolish, and I got exactly what I deserved. Is this why I must still be tortured? It floats the issue right back to me... leads me all the way back to it on the feathers of its wings.

    Just some random Kasugai crow taking me to a crime scene... no words, not a peak from the bird's beak. An ownerless messenger who won't say a single word, what're the odds? That second set of feathers have followed me all the way here, watching as I order two more drinks, stronger shots than the last.

     Now come the real shots; what happened to him?

     He wasn't the charred Slayer in the room of that decaying matter, there were no other signs of him besides the chunk of his haori left behind... Did he go after the culprit? Did he even kill it? ... Did he survive? Everyone inside of there was dead, not one living soul...

     I lolled my head down into my hands to contain myself, a burgeoning headache splitting at my head. It's barely been a week since the chaos I had to tackle in Lady Yokomeda's home, all that I saw in my mind... of him.

... We switched memories. He saw something.

     About Muro, he had to have.

     I barely choked back my fifth drink and a quiet gasp when Kyojuro's face dawned on my bright-red complexion; the face of a broken, drunken Slayer.

     Why would anyone else cry then it be about Muro himself? I've shed so many tears in his name that it's become contagious. He looked at me after the battle and saw the cracks that I carry, pricked his finger and drew blood. He cried in my image and did so silently. Who knows how much of me was revealed... if it wasn't everything.