It was a silent agony, memories of them, of him, swirling in her mind. Japan was supposed to be the beginning of more shared moments, yet it felt like a cruel twist of fate.
They had just started to openly express their feelings, to love each other in the ways they both yearned for. The taste of significance she had with him was fleeting, yet intoxicating.
Before the kiss. Everywhere she turned, there were reminders of him:
His smile,
His gaze,
His voice.
He haunted her waking hours and her dreams, stubbornly refusing to fade.
Distance seemed to amplify her love, turning it into an intangible entity that silently tormented her, carrying with it the undeniable truth.
She loved him.
She loved him beyond words, fearing that articulating it would bind her to a love she might not be able to escape. The sapy love of hand holding, secret kisses and whispered promises.
It hurt before because to love him, she had to do so secretly. They were just friends and to say "I love you, more than a friend" was a risk.
A risk she was unsure it was worth taking, worth losing him forever for.
But now she's glad that risk was taken.
But it still hurt to love him.
It hurt knowing to love him was also to know she may have to mourn him.
Mourn the experiences they will miss because of his grand responsibility.
Hurt knowing she would be put second to the world.
Hurt knowing that he may not come home.
Hurt thinking of living in a world without him.
Hurting know that same love, emotionally crippled her mother.
It hurt, so, so much.
Loving him was a risk, a gamble where the odds were stacked against her. No amount of caution or preparation could shield her from the inevitable hurt.
Since youth, she felt her feelings quietly, hiding her anger, betrayal, remorse and love to protect her fragile world, her family. It was not worth confessing such bitter truths in the short moments she had with her heroic parents. Such fleeting moments they only wanted to make the best moments. It was far too short to unpack the trauma of empty pormsies, lonely dinners, late birthdays and more.
In the end, the pain of loving him was the only certainty she had.
It was a choice she made willingly-to endure the pain of loving him rather than living in a world devoid of love altogether
Amari was no stranger to pain; she had grown accustomed to its weight, to the point where it no longer deterred her. She believed that it took more than just pain to keep her down, and she meant every word of it. What truly crippled her was the inability to love.
The person who held the key to her heart was Ken Sato.
She loved him, and it took losing him to muster the courage to admit that truth to herself.
She was prepared to endure excruciating pain just for the chance to see him again. Oh, the anticipation of being in his presence consumed her.
Ken Sato, Kenji, Number 7, Ultraman... Whatever guise he adopted, she would embrace it wholeheartedly because it was him.
The memories of being enveloped in his arms, the unspoken language their hearts shared, the endearing quirks she adored-oh, how she longed for them all.
She missed him...
And then, she lost him...
What stung the most was the unspoken "I love you." The excuses of the relationship being too young or the timing not being perfect were just shields against vulnerability. Love doesn't adhere to calendars; she was simply afraid to voice what was in her heart.
The world around her seemed to distort, as if reality itself were slipping away. Sounds became distant, resembling the static of a distorted radio, while her vision blurred further, as though she were seeing everything through a thick haze.
Her muscles tensed up, and soon they began to tremble uncontrollably. A wave of nausea bubbled up from her core, threatening to overwhelm her as the pull of gravity finally brought her weak knees to the ground.
A deep sense of dread and helplessness enveloped her, like the suffocating darkness of an abyss into which she had fallen.
She found herself gasping for air, but a part of her questioned if she even wanted to breathe anymore, so overwhelming by the sensation of being consumed by fear and uncertainty.
"Mari, is he...?"
Some Amari angst for you guys.
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Ultraman: Rising Fanfic
Fanfiction"A true hero isn't measured by the size of his strength, but by the strength of his heart" - Hercules The plot and images are not my own. The oc belongs to me. Please Read, comment, vote, follow and enjoy.
