𝗥𝗜𝗦𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗧𝗜𝗗𝗘𝗦 ⌈𝐈⌔𝐌 ✗ 𝔽!𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑫𝑬𝑹⌋

Chapter 104

CHAPTER 104: A World Left in Ruins

The morning sun filtered weakly through the hospital blinds, casting long shadows across the sterile floor. Beyond the walls, the city smoldered—wounded, grieving. The echoes of destruction hadn’t faded. And neither had the ache inside your chest.

You sat alone on the hospital bed, stiff white sheets tucked around you like a cage. Bandages covered your arms, your ribs screamed with every breath, but the worst pain wasn’t physical. It lived somewhere deeper, nestled in the hollow space Yumi had left behind.

Her voice replayed over and over in your mind. The hurt in her words. The way she looked at you—like a stranger. Like an enemy.

The door creaked open. You didn’t look up.

But you heard a voice. “Y/N…”

Your mother’s voice. Fragile. Breaking.

Aiko rushed to your side, dropping to her knees beside your bed. Her hand found yours, cold and trembling. You turned slowly, meeting her eyes.

Eyes that had always been strong. Soft. Gentle.

Now they were red-rimmed, shattered.

Haruto followed quietly, his jaw clenched. He lingered in the doorway, as if stepping closer would make it all more real.

“I’m so sorry,” Aiko whispered. “I’m so, so sorry.”

Your throat tightened. “Mom…”

“I should’ve seen it,” she choked out, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I should’ve known. She was hurting, and I—I missed it. I thought she was dead, but maybe I just stopped looking for her before she ever was.”

“Don’t,” you rasped, voice raw. “Please… don’t say that.”

“I’m her mother.” Her voice cracked again. “And I didn’t save her. I left her. And now she’s become…”

She couldn’t say it. Couldn’t say Hydrax.

You felt it then—a different kind of pain. Watching your mother crumble. Watching the strongest person you knew unravel in front of you.

Haruto stepped forward and knelt beside her. He didn’t say anything right away. He just held her, gently, as if she might break even more.

“We all lost her,” he said finally, barely louder than a breath. “But none of this is your fault, Aiko. Or yours, Y/N.”

You looked away, blinking hard. “Then why does it feel like it is?”

No one answered.

Silence settled like ash.

“I fought her,” you whispered. “And she looked me in the eye like I meant nothing. Like we never meant anything. But I saw it—just for a second. That little girl who used to braid my hair and sing off-key in the kitchen. She was still there.”

Your voice broke.

“I don’t know how to reach her. I don’t even know if I can. But I’ll keep trying. I have to.”