𝑅𝑒𝓂𝑒𝓂𝒷𝑒𝓇 𝑀𝑒 [ ObaMitsu fanfic/ R-(MA)] Kimetsu No Yaiba

Chapter 92 - Fractured Memories

Chapter Song: Leyona Music , c152 -  "childhood memories"

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After her text from Obanai

The room was heavy with silence, broken only by the faint creak of the floor beneath Misaki's trembling frame. She stood motionless before the shattered mirror, her reflection splintered into countless jagged pieces. Each fragment distorted her face, twisting it into something unrecognizable.

Her turquoise eyes, once vibrant and captivating, now stared back at her lifelessly. The shadows beneath them seemed to carry the weight of years, though it had only been months since she had begun losing herself. Her hair hung in uneven strands, a far cry from the glossy perfection she once prided herself on. Even her posture, once poised and commanding, was now hunched and fragile, as though she carried an invisible burden too heavy to bear.

Her fingers traced the cracks in the mirror, the sharp edges threatening to cut her skin. But she didn't pull away. Instead, she leaned closer, her breath fogging the glass as she studied the stranger staring back at her.

"Who am I?" she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Memories came flooding back, unbidden and relentless. Laughter echoed in her mind—her father tossing her in the air as she squealed with delight, her mother brushing her hair while humming a lullaby. She could almost feel the warmth of their arms around her, could almost hear the praise and adoration they showered her with when she was their shining star.

But then, the memories shifted.

The day he was born. The tiny bundle in his mother's arms. The way her family's eyes lit up with pride as they held him. The way the world tilted, and Misaki became invisible.

Obanai Iguro

The first boy born into their family in over three decades.

She clenched her fists as the memories shifted, the cheers and joy of that day still haunting her. She remembered the way her relatives celebrated his arrival as if he were a gift from the heavens. The way the women cooed over him, marveling at his tiny features. The way the men stood taller, prouder, as if his birth had restored something they had long lost.

He was everything they had waited for.

And she... felt invisible.

Misaki staggered back from the mirror, her chest heaving. The bitterness inside her burned like acid, her nails digging into her palms as fresh tears spilled down her cheeks.

"It's always been him," she hissed, her voice thick with anger. "They loved him more. Praised him. Ignored me. All because he was a boy, and he killed them..."

The weight of years crashed down on her, a tidal wave of anger, sadness, and betrayal. Her knees gave way, and she collapsed onto the floor, her trembling hands clutching at her hair.

"Obanai..." she whispered, her voice filled with venom. "You took everything from me... MY family...MY home... MY life."

The thought of his face—so calm, so sure—only fanned the flames of her rage.

"How dare he? How dare he act as if he had done nothing wrong?"

Her sobs filled the room, raw and unrestrained, echoing off the walls like a dirge for the person she used to be. She hugged her knees to her chest, her body rocking as the memories of her happier days played like a cruel taunt in her mind.

"Mommy... daddy..."

Outside her door, her boyfriend lingered, his hand hovering uncertainly over the knob. He had never seen her like this—so broken, so fragile. The sounds of her anguish cut through him, but he couldn't bring himself to enter. Misaki's rage was unpredictable, and her sorrow was a force he didn't know how to face.

He backed away silently, leaving her alone with her shattered reflection and the unbearable weight of her memories.

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In Shibuya

Doma meandered through the crowded streets of Shibuya, the chaos and noise washing over him like a symphony. A neat wig of chestnut-brown hair concealed his telltale locks, and his tailored coat made him look every bit the polished urbanite. But beneath the mask of normalcy, his mind danced with chaos.

His sharp eyes flicked across the bustling sidewalks, catching glimpses of faces that blurred into anonymity—until he saw him.

Sanemi.

The silver-haired man strode out of a small market, a plastic bag swinging at his side. His movements were brisk, tense, as if the weight of the world rested on his shoulders.

Doma froze mid-step, his lips parting in a grin so wide it bordered on unnatural. His hand clutched his chest as though the sight of Sanemi had physically delighted him.

"Well, well," he murmured, his tone dripping with mock reverence. "Fate, you sly little thing. What are the odds?"

He tilted his head, watching Sanemi weave through the crowd like a predator sizing up its prey. Every step the man took felt like a breadcrumb in a trail Doma was all too eager to follow.

He slipped into the current of pedestrians, his movements unhurried yet precise. Doma didn't simply blend in; he became part of the scenery, his presence unnoticed as he trailed Sanemi from a safe distance.

When Sanemi turned a corner and approached an apartment building, Doma's grin widened.

"Oh, I know that place," he muttered under his breath, the corners of his mouth twitching in delight. His memories flooded back, sharper than a knife.

The apartment where I played house. The one with her.

Sanemi glanced over his shoulder, his sharp eyes scanning the street before slipping inside. Doma waited, counting to three before casually following. He caught the elevator doors just before they closed, watching as Sanemi pressed the button for the fifth floor.

He made no effort to hide his amusement, his grin spreading as if he were privy to a secret no one else could comprehend.

"The fifth floor," he whispered, his tone almost reverent. "So close, yet so far from the good old days."

As the elevator descended, Doma stepped in, smoothing his coat as though he were preparing for a stage performance. When the doors opened on the fifth floor, he stepped out into the dim hallway, his footsteps echoing softly.

He strolled leisurely past each door, his fingers grazing the walls as if reacquainting himself with an old lover. Then he stopped. Apartment E5.

Voices murmured behind the door—Sanemi's gruff tone and the softer, soothing cadence of a woman.

Doma's eyes fluttered shut for a moment, inhaling deeply. The scent of the hallway brought back memories of home-cooked meals and the subtle perfume she used to wear. A shiver ran down his spine, equal parts pleasure and fury.

"Oh, this is too good," he whispered, his voice trembling with barely contained glee. "Two floors above where I used to live. What poetic symmetry."

His fingers hovered near his coat pocket, brushing the handle of his knife. For a moment, the urge surged, hot and insistent. He could imagine it so clearly—Sanemi's startled expression, the chaos of it all. But he let his hand drop, shaking his head with a chuckle.

"Not yet," he murmured, his grin stretching wider. "What's the fun in rushing the finale?"

He turned on his heel, his pace leisurely as he made his way to the stairwell. Closing the door behind him, he leaned against the wall and let out a soft, delighted laugh that echoed in the empty space.

He tilted his head, running through his options like a child choosing from a box of sweets.

"I've found you," he whispered to himself, his voice dripping with giddy malice. "And now we're going to have so much fun."

As he settled into the shadows of the stairwell, his eyes glinted with anticipation. The hunt wasn't over—it was just beginning.

"Looks like tonight's going to be unforgettable," he purred, a mad gleam in his eyes.