Obsession (Ayano x Budo)

Chapter 7

Budo's mind flipped like blank pages, dumb and senseless as his eyes stared at the figure that lay, like a puddle, at Ayano's feet.

Osana's bright orange hair tumbled around her, her arms and legs splayed like a ragdoll's in a way that was horrifying.

Worse was her deep toffee-like eyes that were wide, frozen in shock, staring past the soft pink petals of the Sakura tree, into the empty blue sky. And her neck...

It was if she had been unravelled from collar to chin, and the red threads of blood were spilling out of that splitting gorge. Thick, bright red on peach skin. Shining bright. Fresh.

It was all in slow motion as he took in his dead friend. Even if he hadn't liked her, he felt the memories of times spent together flash before it eyes, the final image that of her unmoving eyes. He was paralyzed to the core. How could she? His beautiful angel...?

His eyes flicked back to Ayano, and noticed for the first time that her right hand was covered in a coat of deep velvety red, as if she'd plunged it into a pool of paint, and her red fingers were tight in a fist around the hilt of a knife. A huge kitchen knife. The blood was thick along the entire blade, dripping slowly from the point.

He had a second to connect eyes with her, to see the grey focus that was inkling with insanity set onto his face, before she lunged at him, knife first.

Adrenalin snapped into his muscles and blood rushed hot and fast to his body. In a single movement, Budo sidestepped - feeling the hiss of air past his ear as the blade cut the air- and grabbed her red-slick wrist. She released a breath of surprise as he twisted it behind her back, and used her momentum to push her onto the grass ground. She gasped as she fell, and, somehow in the whirlpool of horror, Budo felt guilt flush through him at the thought of her being hurt.

The side of her face bit into the hard ground, hair fanning the ground, while her free hand slapped uselessly in front of her. Budo sat on top of her, legs pinning hers and blocking her from flipping over, and his hands holding down her head and armed hand.

With a grunt, he roughly twisted the handle out of her grasp, and flung the knife as far away as he could.

"Ayano," he managed, voice gripped with anger and devastation as she struggled within his hold, "How- who is making you do this? Tell me!"

An image of Info Chan's previous message flashed though his head. She knew! She was the one who made Ayano kill! The one who'd turned his lovely soulmate into some drone. No wonder Ayano couldn't feel the connection they shared- she was too stressed, too much trying to hide the horrible situation she's been forced into.

"I'm so, so sorry," Budo choked through the thickness of his turmoil. "Ayano, you should have told me. I'd have understood. But God, you can't kill anymore."

Ayano had stopped resisting and lay beneath him quietly absorbing his words. "What are you going to do?" she asked softly, deadpan eyes looking up at him from the side. "Report me?"

Panic rose up in Budo's chest as he imagined her being locked up in a cold, merciless prison. The life he'd dreamed with her: living with him, smiling and laughing and loving him, blurred before his mind's eye. She was innocent. She, and he, deserved that life together.

"Never," he whispered to her. And then he realized what he had to do. To save their future. And save his poor Ayano. Their was a second of hesitation, a second of regret.

"Ayano, I'm sorry."