𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑

八十七

𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑

「 𝑪𝑯𝑨𝑷𝑻𝑬𝑹 𝑬𝑰𝑮𝑯𝑻𝒀 𝑺𝑬𝑽𝑬𝑵 」
𝐑 𝐄 𝐓 𝐑 𝐀 𝐂 𝐄

꧁꧂

    "This is all too fucking stupid," (Y/N) scowled as she stalked down the gravel road away from the Flame Mansion, the Haori that she donned and the sword strapped to her waist feeling like heavy weights that she couldn't get rid of. "Why the hell are they acting as if I'm some fucking thing that needs to be obtained? How the hell does that even happen? And why are they acting so damn crazy?"

    Fuck...

    I'm pissed off just thinking about it.

    Scowling to herself whilst trying to forget how vulnerable she seemed with Kyojuro, she stopped in the middle of the pathway, her features contorting as multiple emotions ran through her. She knew that she was just running away again if she continued, and such an act she found pathetic, but what was she supposed to do when everyone around her was acting as if they had lost their sanity?

    She breathed in.

    I need to die.

    I have to die.

    I can finally have some fucking peace and quiet if I'm able to kill myself.

    But first...

    Let's go kill that bitch, Kibutsuji.

    He's the reason I'm like this.

    Steeling her resolve, feeling her anger boil rapidly and lowly under the surface, she fingered the small bag of money she had brought along and knew that she would make sure to use it properly. Booking a train to Kanegawa, Nagana, the last place where she had seen Muzan, she traveled back to that city in hopes of finding some sort of lead that would somehow lead her to him.

    I won't find him there...

   After what happened, he won't show, not if it means the threat of facing more Demon Slayers.

    But there has to be something.

    Something left behind that I can use to find him.

    Stepping off the train, the moon shining brightly down on the bustling city, (Y/N) let out a slow breath. Her eyes swept along the crowded streets, finding that she was in a different spot than where she had been with Muzan. She tentatively plucked the jagged black and orange hair pin that he had given her out of her pocket, staring down at it with a sort of loathing crossing her expression.

She hated him.

She hated him so much.

But the one thing she hated the most about him was how he seemed to care for her when she knew such a thing was impossible.