The Broken Doll

Chapter 18

~.One Week Later.~

Yuri and Shing piled into the car while Akari took the driver's seat and Haru took the passenger seat. Both spellcasters decided to ride with the humans so they could continue to pour over the book, the page turned to one of the numerous pages of the Broken Heart curse. There was a lot of information to absorb, and they would spend the ride pouring over the pages to learn as much as possible. Astral, needing time to mentally prepare for the wake, decided to fly alongside the car with Dark. Once everyone was strapped in and ready, the car lurched to a start.

The ride there was silent and thoughtful. Astral and Dark hardly communicated, not even mentally, but there was a comforting and thoughtful silence between them. Their emotions mingled as usual, it was a mix of sadness for Yuma's untimely demise, soft pleasant feelings toward Shing, and dread at forgetting all of this. After today, everything would be wiped from both of their memories, and the mission would start over, more urgently of course. 

And they wouldn't remember what happened previous to the wipe.

Once at the funeral home, they entered the building and found Yuma's friends waiting there, taking one last look at the boy. Astral, invisible to everyone but Shing now, approached the casket and glanced at the boy's face.

Yuma's face was a deathly white, his eyes closed, and his hands clasped on his chest. Somehow, he was dressed in a black suit with a white shirt underneath. It seemed so unlike Yuma that Astral nearly laughed in surprise. Surely, if he was alive, Astral would unknowingly make fun of him for finally looking cleaned up instead of a child who spent all his time running around. This only made him sadder, though, and those tears he tried so hard to hold back threatened to spill over. He had to turn his back on Yuma and regain his composure.

"I will never forget you," he whispered, but he knew deep down that it was a lie. He would soon forget all about this wild boy, but for now, it felt right to say it. "And even if I do, you will always be deep in my being. I promise you that." Turning back around, he tried to touch his cheek, but tragically, his hand passed straight through. Holding back tears, he backed away and went back to Shing, who was debating on whether she should see him at all.

The spellcasters, meanwhile, were pouring over their book as usual. There was a surprising amount of information, including what would happen if the cursed person touched a special belonging of their target (which was instant death to anyone who touched the cursed object) and alternate ways of curing the Broken Heart curse. Unfortunately, those alternate cures still involved sacrifices, but such was life.

Out of the corner of his eye, the spellcaster Astral noticed Shing walking up to the casket. She was quite out of character today, wearing a black dress for the occasion, and she seemed hesitant to approach the casket. The spellcaster looked up from the book and watched her move, knowing full well that she could easily slip back into hysteria with a single glance at her lost love.

Shing approached the casket, hands trembling as she gripped the edge. She didn't know what she expected when she approached, but it was definitely not this well-dressed boy she didn't know. The Yuma she knew would never wear a suit unless he was forced to, and he would let nothing get him down. Still, even in death, he didn't look sad. Just...at peace. Unlike Astral, she couldn't hold back her tears.

Silently crying, she touched his cold, white cheek. Her hands trailed to his closed eyes and slightly parted lips. Seeing him like this was painful, even if he did look at peace. Her hand trailed down his neck and to his chest, her hand hovering over his heart.

The spellcaster Astral was suddenly nudged by Dark Mist, who had a look of urgency on his face. "What's wrong, Dark Mist?"

"What's she doing?" the dark spellcaster hissed. 

"She's looking at Yuma. Why?"

"Is she touching his chest?"

"What?"

"Is she touching his chest!?"

The spellcaster Astral hurriedly looked over and saw her hand inching closer to his chest, seeming to hesitate. "No, why?"

"Hurry over and make sure she doesn't! If she does, she regains the curse and everything was for naught!"

Overhearing this, Astral perked up. "I'll make sure she doesn't." Without waiting for a response, he zipped to Shing and the casket.

Unfortunately, her hand made soft contact with Yuma's chest. Much to everyone's shock and surprise, her skin turned sickly and gray, she was swaying on her feet, and cracks formed on her skin. Astral halted in his tracks, afraid to even touch her. To his horror, she grabbed the Key with her cursed hands, but relief flooded him when it rejected her touch. Instead, she snapped the rope that held it to her neck and dropped it, the ping of it landing on the floor loud in the silence.

She looked down at her hands. The same painful sorrow burned at her chest, and tears flowed freely from her dead eyes. Shing looked at Yuma with a pained expression and whispered, "I'm sorry, my love. Your sacrifice was for nothing..."

And with that she ran off.

~.~.~

The funeral passed by in a blur for Astral. Holding the pure Key tightly to his chest, he watched in a haze as Yuma's body was lowered into the ground. He didn't belong there, not six feet under! He was supposed to be alive and kicking, daring anyone to take him on no matter how many times he failed! And suddenly, anger boiled up in his chest again. Anger he thought he buried when he and Shing worked together.

But he couldn't find the energy in him to be angry at her. All he felt was tiredness. He just wanted to go back to the house and sleep all day, do nothing, not even carry on with whatever mission he was given in the first place. He wanted nothing more than to be left alone. Eliphas could look for someone else to do whatever needed to be done. 

And he was suddenly back in the Tsukumo home, laying on his side on the hammock, curled up with the Key clutched to his chest, held so tightly that it hurt. Dark was trying to get him to move, to do anything, but Astral refused to do anything. He just laid there, wallowing in self-pity.

Dark, fed up with Astral's behavior, was once again forced to cut their emotional connection or else he'd be crying up a river for no reason. Looking down, he could see Eliphas waiting for them with a grim expression. With a groan, he could tell that the news he was about to hear wasn't going to be good. Even so, he flew down to the room under the attic to talk. 

"What's up?" he greeted the guardian of the Astral World. "I'm guessing that whatever you're about to say isn't good..."

"No, it is not," Eliphas confirmed with a shake of his head. "Astral is broken. Broken beyond even our repair. The memory wipe cannot erase the intense sorrow within him. We must purge you from our world; you both will not be allowed to contaminate our perfect world with your Chaos. I'm sure you and Astral will understand." With that, he disappeared.

Dark gulped. He had a feeling Astral would take this very badly...