(Rewrite) Life & Death | Akatsuki no Yona Fanfiction

Prologue

A/N: Hello there! This is a rewrite of my previous work. Similar premise to original but a lot has changed, especially my characters. I have big plans for this work. Hope y'all enjoy it!

Posting seven parts right now but in the future, I plan to post 1-2 per week. Plan to keep this pretty casual due to school and work.

(Context) Takes place after Chapter 75 of the manga. Won't be spoiler heavy for now as this is my own arc, but it will be eventually. Once this arc is finished, I will notify again.

Anyway, onwards!

**Art is by me :)

~~~~~

Life had always thought its shared cycle with Death was just that: you live then you die. It was a line, no? A destination fated the second one existed.

If only it was that simple. Simple as the sun and its ceaseless path across the abyss above. It rose and it set. Absolute. Guaranteed. Simple.

Prettier too.

Its rays sparkled the snow suffocated ground. It filled her footsteps with shadow and her dripped blood with ghastly reflections. The pines freckled their own shadows and swayed gently as she brushed past.

Crunch, crunch, the snow cried as her boots carried her through the forest. With its own crunch, she sheathed her sword. Its blood peeled up the blade, and with her arm's own scarlet, it trailed down the case.

She bound her arm and beamed. "We were fast this time, huh, Yami?"

Smiling bright, she looked to her left. Her face fell.

She stared at the untouched snow beside her, slowly tying her bandage to a close. She sighed, mumbling how forgetful her mind was.

Peering behind her, her eyes followed her single trail of footsteps into the brush of pines. Bodies peeked from their icy graves. In collaboration with their blood, discarded needles decorated their corpses in celebration of their fleeting lives.

Her eyes sifted back, and she stared at the trail of red that decorated her own evidence of life. Its nasty drizzle flavored the snow, spreading about her footsteps.

Furrowed brows, she touched her thigh. It burned with pain. How odd. She didn't remember getting hit there.

Shrug. With a limp, she halted at the tree line and looked out over the valley. Its glow welcomed her as she ripped bandages from her cloak.

She stared at it, the sun, as it peaked over the mountains and into the valley. It bathed the village nestled amidst it with its golden embrace and rosy blush. She smiled.

Dawn was always nicer here opposed to the ruins. No craggily shadows nor timeless ash and char to catch the rays. Plenty of noise as well. Good noise.

The townsfolk yawned with the shutters as they exited their cottages. Wheels creaked in between the endless chatter. Even the rhythmic chipping at the icy streets. The laughter of children chasing the snowbirds.

The sound of life. Bustling, breathing, alive.

And the chimneys, filling the air with wispy smoke. Or the stalls— colorful vegetables and herbs uncovered from their seasonal preserves. The people too: smiling and bright as they jollied through the streets.

What a pretty picture— a beautiful thought. If only it was that simple.

As she climbed and perched herself amidst one of the many pines, a scream broke the script. And unfortunately for them, the villagers weren't good at improv.