Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
DAY (MONTH) 9 -Suzume-
-ˋˏ ೱ ˎˊ-
Morning
The soft glow of the fireplace bathed the room in a warm, flickering light, casting dancing shadows on the walls and filling the space with a sense of calm that didn't quite match the surrealness of their situation. Outside the window, the sky was a muted gray, tinged with the soft hues of dawn, but Suzume knew better than to trust the light. Inside their bubble, time had long since lost its meaning. The days bled into nights, and sometimes, the sun rose for days. It was a constant reminder that they were existing in a place apart from the rest of the world.
Suzume sat curled up on the couch by the hearth, the warmth from the fire seeping into her skin, keeping the biting chill of the outside at bay. Her legs were tucked beneath her, and Pestilence, ever loyal to his favorite spot, was nestled into her lap, a soft purr vibrating from his small body. Her fingers worked rhythmically, weaving thread into yet another bracelet, her latest project to pass the endless hours. The delicate strands of thread, soft between her fingers, twined together in a careful pattern. It was soothing in a way, keeping her hands busy while her mind wandered.
Her gaze lifted from her work, drifting across the room to where Satoru sat at the small kitchen table. He was hunched over, scribbling furiously on a piece of paper, the muscles in his back and shoulders tense with concentration. His white hair, always a bit unruly, fell in loose strands around his face, casting shadows over his sharp features. Every now and then, he'd pause in his writing, brow furrowed as if some great problem gnawed at the edge of his mind, then he'd scribble furiously again, the pen scratching across the page.
She couldn't help but glance at him, stealing looks when she thought he wasn't paying attention. He was meticulous in his preparations, in every little detail of his correspondences with the outside world. For someone who claimed not to care about the grand cause, he sure seemed invested in planning his own endgame. She couldn't help but feel the irony pressing down on her.
There he is, told me not to throw my life away for something as abstract as saving the world. Suzume thought with a soft sigh. The sight made her lips twitch into a small, bittersweet smile.
Satoru had always been so quick to brush off the weight of the world, to mock the idea of noble sacrifices with that devilish grin of his. Yet here he was, planning to do exactly that. His hand moved with the same surety he carried in battle, as if his fate was something he could command with the same ease as a curse. She watched him, her chest tightening with a familiar pang of sadness she hadn't quite shaken over these long months.
She knew why he had said those things-that it wasn't worth dying for the world. Satoru had never been the type to let someone else carry his burdens. And if she was being honest with herself, the thought of sacrificing her life for him felt infinitely more meaningful than for the vague, faceless "greater good" they both knew wouldn't truly care. But dying for him? That... was easier. Dying for him instead of for some vague, lofty ideal. The thought gave her a strange sense of peace, as if, in the end, it would at least mean something personal.
