Golden Era (Book 2)

65. Killshot

Ayuna didn't scream, nor did she cry—she couldn't afford to. Laying against Fuji, she felt the heaves and collapses of his torso as he struggled for each breath. She dared herself to reach back: on her fingers were his blood. 

Carefully laying Fuji down, Ayuna stood up, her heart thumping and her hands numb. Her body started to take on a mind of its own as she scrambled to pick up the ballistic knife. During this time, Ren fired another shot, narrowly missing Ayuna by inches. Without flinching, she aimed the weapon at Ren and released the lever.

There was terror in her eyes as the silver blade pierced through the night air. She jumped to dodge the discharge, yet that second of delay was the checkmate: Ren was struck in the thigh.

Ayuna watched as she buckled forward and fell on her knees. She watched Ren dig her fingers into the tiles, struggling to drag herself up.

Picking up the previously discarded butterfly knife, Ayuna marched towards her enemy. Without a word, she hauled Ren up by the hair and flipped her head up. She saw the last flint of struggle in Ren's eyes, the hem of her black dress dancing wildly like a dark rose coming into bloom.

Unblinking, she thrust the blade deep into her chest, not letting go even after it sank into the muscles around the heart.

Rivulets of blood formed around the point of penetration, followed by a stifled groan. Ren reached out, her hand suspended in midair as Ayuna withdrew the blade and stabbed once again. Numb, she watched Ren bleed out to her death before releasing the corpse. There was blood on her hands and the smell of gore in the air. She watched life drain away until there was nothing but the expression of death on her enemy's face.

Ayuna dropped the knife.

It clattered against the ground with a crisp clang. Somewhere along the joust, the fireworks had stopped. Enshrouded by the deafening silence, she could feel nothing.

Suddenly, there was a dull wheeze. Snapped out of a dark trance, Ayuna rushed back towards Fuji. His eyes were half-open. Knelt at his side, she carefully propped him up. 

Face a ghostly shade of white, his mouth opened and closed like a fish but no sound escaped.

"What should I do?" she whispered. "Tell me, what should I do for you?"

Unable to speak, he slowly reached out and brushed loose tendrils out of her eyes. She grabbed his hand and he tried to curl his lips.

But that last smile was never formed.

His fingers unfurled around hers and his head dropped to the side.

Ayuna began to wail. She tilted his head towards her, dragging smears of blood along his cheek. She shook him, commanding him to open his eyes, to come back to life.

"Don't cry."

There was a hand on her shoulder, a gentle touch that was then accompanied by unreal sheaths of light. The entire world seemed to be filled with that soft white glimmer. By reflex, she looked up into the sky. Quickly, she realized it emanated not from the moon nor the stars—but another person.

She lifted her head and looked into Shiraishi's eyes.

Swathed in a cloak of light, he knelt next to her to check Fuji's pulse. Up close, she saw there was a golden halo sitting just above the crown of his head. On his back, there were two wings jutting from his shoulder blades.

An angel, Ayuna thought dizzily, Shiraishi Kuranosuke.

He took a minute to check Fuji's vitals before turning to Ayuna. "He's not dead."