________________________________________________________________________________
Location: Hospital
Time: Mid Evening
Mikasa stared at the figure standing just inside the doorway, her pulse pounding in her ears. The moonlight streaming through the window painted his features in halves—half illuminated, half swallowed by shadow. Kiyotaka Ayanokouji stood there.
Her hands clenched the sterile hospital sheets as she pushed herself upright, though the movement came haltingly, like the joints of a rusted machine. "No..." Her voice was barely above a whisper. "You can't be here. I saw it. I did it. I..."
Her words fragmented into uneven gasps. The image of her blade, embedded deep in his back, flashed through her mind. Blood—his blood—pooling. She had watched him fall.
Watched him die.
Yet here he was.
Kiyotaka tilted his head slightly, the faint glimmer of moonlight reflecting off his unblinking eyes.
"Calm down," he said.
His voice was smooth and low.
Mikasa flinched, her entire body tensing.
"Stay back!" The words shot out as a reflex. Her chest heaved, and she doubled over, coughing violently.
Kiyotaka stopped, holding his hands loosely at his sides. "You're behaving irrationally," he stated evenly, his tone devoid of malice. "Your breathing is shallow, and your body hasn't fully recovered. Three months of inactivity has left your muscles weak. If you don't calm down, you'll aggravate your condition. Must I remind you this?"
"Don't—" Another cough wracked her frame, cutting off her retort.
"Focus," Kiyotaka interrupted. "Breathe in deeply. Slowly. Then exhale. Repeat."
Mikasa's glare could have melted steel, but the logic in his tone shot through her rising panic. She sucked in a shaky breath, held it, and let it out. As she did, she watched him closely, her sharp eyes scanning for any sign that this was a trick, a ghost, something.
Satisfied that her breathing was stabilizing, Kiyotaka took another step forward, and then another, until the light shifted across his face. The shadows fell away, revealing his features in full clarity.
He was alive—flesh and blood, not some ghost conjured by her guilt or fever dreams.
"How?" The word was barely audible, forced out through gritted teeth. Mikasa's hands curled into fists in her lap. "How are you alive?"
Kiyotaka's gaze didn't waver. He seemed almost amused by the question, though the faintest flicker of something—calculation, maybe?—passed behind his eyes. "That's the wrong question," he said, taking another step closer.
"The better one is why you believed I would die so easily."
Her jaw tightened, the accusation hitting a nerve. "Don't play games with me."
"I'm not," he replied smoothly. "But let's not dwell on the obvious." He gestured toward her. "You're alive. I'm alive. That should suffice for now."
"For now?" Mikasa's voice rose, the anger in it sharp enough to cut through the room's cold sterility. "I stabbed you! I saw the blade go in! Don't stand there and act like nothing happened!"
Kiyotaka shrugged.
His indifference was as infuriating as it was disarming.
"You acted as you thought necessary at the time. I'm not here to debate the morality of your choices." He stepped closer still, now standing just at the foot of her bed. "I'm here because there's work to be done. And whether you want to believe it or not, we're not finished yet."
YOU ARE READING
Classroom of The Elite x AOT: Wax Wings
Fanfiction[Crossposted onto A03 under the same name] Ayanokouji Kiyotaka, the Masterpiece of the White Room has gone missing, disappearing into thin air one night before the end of spring break. His whereabouts are unknown, his condition even less so. In his...
