Honkai Impact 3rd - The Interference

Chapter 100 - Final Lesson

The distant echoes of the TV news broadcast filled the room with an eerie resonance. Wan sat beside the bed, the weight of the world pressing heavily on his shoulders. The broadcast continued, a monotonous litany of despair.

"It was impossible... I lost my husband... our home was destroyed and... and—"

Click.

Wan pressed the remote, silencing the TV. The room fell into a heavy silence, broken only by his sigh as he set the remote aside. He bowed his head, the burden of the day's horrors etched into his features.

"It's not Kiana's fault..." he muttered, the words barely audible.

He glanced at the bed, where Fujuki Hana lay unconscious, her eyes closed. The absence of her vibrant red eyes only deepened the sense of loss and uncertainty that enveloped him.

Wan reached out, gently brushing a strand of hair from Hana's face. The weight of everything that had happened seemed to crush him.

Gently, Wan reached out and took Hana's hand, his fingers brushing lightly against her skin before intertwining with hers. He smiled slightly, a bittersweet expression that hovered between warmth and sorrow.

"Say, Hana..." he murmured softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "If you were awake... what would you tell me?"

There was no response from Hana, but Wan knew better than to make a big deal out of it—Hana was alive, and that was all that mattered. Even if she couldn't speak at the moment, her presence was a comfort he clung to.

"I don't know what to do, Hana," he began, speaking as if she were awake. "I tried to bring Kiana back to her senses, to tell her my true feelings, but it didn't change anything." His voice trembled slightly as he continued, "I hurt Mei... she's unconscious right now, just like you... and Bronya too."

He tightened his hold on Hana's hand, his grip trembling. "I couldn't save Reina, and as for Sakura... I don't know if what I did was the right choice." He sighed, his gaze fixed on their joined hands. "You always knew what to do, Hana. What would you tell me now?"

He glanced at Hana's serene face, noting the bandages gently wrapped around her features. With a soft sigh, he continued to speak to her, his voice a quiet murmur in the hushed room.

"I never really told you this, because you'd probably make jokes out of it," Wan began, his fingers tracing the lines of her hand tenderly. "But I feel like... I've become too dependent on you."

Wan recalled all the times Hana had comforted him with her jokes, her timing always impeccable, her words always a balm to his troubled heart. She seemed to understand him better than anyone else ever could.

"I've relied on your strength, Hana," he confessed softly, his gaze lingering on her peaceful expression. "Your laughter was my solace, your courage my anchor. Even now, in these uncertain times, I find myself wishing for your wisdom, your guidance."

He paused, memories flooding his mind—their laughter echoing through the halls of their shared home, the warmth of her embrace after a difficult day, and the way she effortlessly made everything seem lighter.

"But now, here we are," Wan murmured, his voice wavering slightly. "And I don't know what to do without you, Hana. How do I find my way forward when you're not here to light the path?"

He squeezed her hand gently, hoping against hope that somehow she could hear his words, even in her unconscious state.

Wan's voice filled the quiet room again, his words hanging heavy in the air like unspoken prayers.

"Tell me, Hana," he began again, his voice soft yet laden with emotion. "What should I do now?"

He waited, as if expecting an answer to materialize from the stillness of the room. The only response was the rhythmic beeping of the monitor beside Hana's bed, a steady reminder of her fragile state.