Amnesia: The Taste Of Solitude (SaneGiyuu)

Chapter Ten

Giyuu lay motionless on the cold concrete, the chill biting through the thin layers of his torn uniform. His own blood pooled around him, now cold and thick, like some grotesque reminder of how close he was to death. The bleeding hadn't stopped—not from his arm, not from his chest or stomach. The wounds still oozed, slow but steady, a constant drain of life he could feel with each passing minute. He could barely feel his own skin anymore, everything numb except for the dull ache of his injuries and the raw sting of cold seeping into his bones.

The demons had left him—about an hour ago, maybe more—abandoning him like some sick joke, knowing he would die slowly. They wanted him to bleed out, to suffer alone, the ultimate cruelty in their minds.

Once he was sure they were gone, he'd acted fast, despite the searing pain. He had torn strips of fabric from his already shredded uniform and hastily wrapped his arm, tying the fabric tightly around the gash to slow the bleeding. But his chest and stomach were a different story. He'd managed to wind a larger piece of material around his abdomen, but it wasn't nearly enough. Blood still seeped through the makeshift bandage, soaking it through within minutes.

"I have to move," he had muttered, barely able to hear his own voice over the roaring in his head.

He had begun to crawl—painfully, agonizingly slow—dragging his body across the filthy floor toward the staircase. His muscles screamed in protest, the sharp sting of every fresh wound sending waves of agony through him. But he kept going, inch by inch, his breath coming out in shallow gasps as he pulled himself forward. The smell of rotting flesh filled his nose, mingling with the coppery scent of his own blood. He felt his hands slip through the slimy remains of human entrails, but his mind was too panicked to register the grotesque sensation beneath his fingers.

When he finally reached the base of the staircase, his body gave out. He collapsed beside it, gasping for air like he had run a marathon, his vision blurring from the exertion. His chest heaved with each ragged breath, but even breathing felt like knives cutting through his ribs.

Giyuu glanced down at the fabric wrapped around his torso. It was soaked through, the deep crimson of fresh blood still leaking out from under the cloth. It wouldn't hold much longer. He didn't need to be a healer to know that. He was bleeding too fast, too much. He couldn't stop it. He wouldn't survive this.

He let out a slow, shaky breath as he leaned back against the wall, the cold surface a small comfort against his burning, battered muscles. His haori, though caked with grime and blood, did little to insulate him from the chill, but in a strange way, it felt good. The cold grounded him, reminded him he was still alive for now. But not for much longer.

"I'm going to die here," he whispered to himself, the words barely audible in the empty space. He hated how right they felt. He hated how he could already feel his body giving up. His limbs were weak, trembling with fatigue. His head spun, vision dimming in and out of focus. He wasn't going to last much longer.

Sanemi. His name echoed in Giyuu's thoughts, a sharp pang of regret piercing through the numbness. Sanemi's mission wouldn't end until tomorrow, and no one knew where Giyuu was. No one would come looking for him. Not until it was too late.

But now, as he sat there, facing the inevitable, something unexpected gripped his chest—a stubborn refusal to let go. He had wanted to die for so long. He had accepted it, even welcomed it. The endless burden of guilt, of loss, had weighed him down for years. Yet, in this moment, at the edge of death, all Giyuu could think was how much he didn't want it to end. Not now. Not like this.

He wanted more time.

For the first time in years, he realized he wanted to live. Not just survive, but live. He wanted a future, a life beyond this war. He wanted to defeat Muzan, to see a world without demons—a world where he and Sanemi could be together. A world where they could find happiness, even if it had always seemed like a distant dream.