もののけ | monster | soshiro hoshina (Kaiju No. 8) (COMPLETE)

よんじゅうろく | forty six

もののけ | kaiju | monster

46

Soshiro

SILENCE ENVELOPED US like a suffocating shroud as I stood there, washing Kiyomi in silent gestures. The steady flow of water ran over our naked forms, mingling with the remnants of our intimacy and the weight of our unspoken words. Her back was facing me, and I watched as I silently glided my hands across her skin, tracing the intricate patterns of her tattoos that adorned her back.

Since she had told me that, she hadn't spoken a single word. Not when I carried her here, not when I started to wash her. She maintained her silence, and I respected it, continuing to wash her with reverent care.

My hands moved methodically, gently, as if trying to soothe the silent storm raging within her. I let the water cascade down her back, following the path of my fingers as they traced the delicate lines of her tattoos. Each touch was a silent apology, a wordless plea for forgiveness, and a testament to the regret that gnawed at my soul.

As the water ran over her shoulders and down her spine, I cupped my hands, gathering more water to rinse away the soap that clung to her skin. Her shoulders tensed under my touch, and I could feel the weight of her unspoken emotions pressing down on both of us.

"Kiyomi..." I finally whispered, my voice breaking the silence. "I'm so... sorry..."

She didn't respond, but I could see the subtle shift in her posture, a slight hunch of her shoulders as if the weight of my words added to the burden she was already carrying. I continued to rinse her, my hands moving with a tenderness that belied the turmoil inside me.

I reached for the shampoo, squeezing a small amount into my palm before gently massaging it into her hair. The scent of the shampoo filled the air, a fleeting distraction from the heaviness that surrounded us. My fingers worked through her hair with a careful touch, untangling the strands and lathering the shampoo into a rich foam.

The silence stretched on, punctuated only by the sound of the running water and the soft rustle of my movements. I rinsed the shampoo from her hair, letting the water wash away the suds and any lingering remnants of our earlier passion. My fingers traced the curve of her neck, feeling the tension that had settled there.

"Kiyomi—baby, please... talk to me," I pleaded softly, my voice trembling with the weight of my emotions.

She remained silent, her head bowed, water streaming down her face and mixing with the tears that I knew were still there. I reached for the body wash, lathering it between my palms before gently applying it to her skin. My touch was featherlight, as if I feared she might shatter under my hands. I washed her chest and stomach with the same gentle care, my fingers tracing the lines of her body with a reverence that spoke of my unspoken apologies.

When I finally turned her around to face me, my heart clenched at the sight of her face. Her eyes, filled with a mixture of pain and resignation, locked onto mine. The words I had been struggling to find seemed to evaporate in the face of her silent suffering.

"Kiyomi, I..." I started, but my voice faltered, the weight of my guilt rendering me speechless.

Her eyes searched mine, and for a moment, it felt as though time had stopped. The water continued to flow around us, but it was as if we were suspended in this singular, heart-wrenching moment.