Yan descended into wails as Sayako's breath stabilized.
"Ah... The hell?" Sayako winced as Yan's palms pressed against her forehead, pushing her against a cushion of thighs.
Above her was a bona fide Messenger of the Index, pouring tears onto her face.
"T-Thank the Prescripts..." Yan squeezed out a choked sob of relief as the laceration on the woman's shoulder began to mend itself.
Sayako blinked.
"What's going on?" She had already accepted her death, but apparently the world didn't want that just yet.
Yan raised Sayako's head so she could see the empty hypodermic needle piercing her arm.
The woman sighed a breath of gratitude, realizing what had happened. Even though she had accepted her death, that didn't mean she wanted to die.
She sat up. The wound on her chest had already faded away, without leaving so much as a scar.
Her face held an odd, conflicted emotion.
"Well," she stood up, "er, thanks, dear. Was this one of your Prescripts too? I mean, with you saving the life of a Kurokumo..."
Sayako tilted her head, rethinking her words.
"I guess I'm not part of the Kurokumo Clan anymore. Still, were you ordered to save me? Not like I'm not thankful, it's just-"
"It's repulsive, isn't it?" Yan whispered, "expressing my own will... That's what I did. I wanted you to live."
The girl began to shiver. She had confessed her thoughts, her own thoughts.
A Messenger of the Index, a mouthpiece of the Prescripts, confessed to her own free will.
Repulsive, wasn't it?
But then again, was it even her own will? If the Prescripts hadn't reminded her in time, Yan wouldn't have realized the needle she took from Dino's corpse until it was too late.
If the Prescripts hadn't interrupted, Sayako definitely would have died.
Were the Prescripts once again responsible for everything in her life?
Her mind immediately knew the answer.
Yan clenched her fist, and her nails drew blood against her palm.
"-No! My free will! It was me! I wanted to save you, Sayako. I saved you. I didn't want you to die." Yan grit her teeth, doubling down on her thoughts, her own thoughts.
Each time she said 'I', more and more flames ignited in her eyes.
The will that she had lost flared once again.
The Prescripts only said that the needle existed. It was up to her to use it on Sayako's body.
Her free will.
Something grew inside her.
Yan didn't want to believe that even the action of saving Sayako's life was entirely up to the Prescript's control.
It was, but she didn't want to believe that it was. And thus, it wasn't.
Sayako pursed her lips. She didn't quite understand what was going on, but she pinched Yan's cheeks anyway.
The Messenger flinched as the pressure brought her head up, locking her eyes with Sayako's.
"Calm down, Yan."
A person gazed into her gently.
A person who cared about her. Other than Asher, who no longer cared about her. So the only person who cared about her.
Yan wobbled backward as she was once again hit by a euphoric pleasure.
A bit of her changed.
"Sayako-"
/*Bring Asher and Sophie's bodies to an empty warehouse.*/
Yan froze. Her face morphed into a blank canvas. The instinct that was drilled into her took over.
"I know. Go on now, take them. Remember your promise, okay?"
Yan flashed a trembling grimace. She stepped forward, lifting the two bodies onto her shoulders without much effort.
She glanced back one last time.
Sayako's eyes were afixed to Sophie's corpse.
Yan leapt off the roof before the woman's facade of mental fortitude crumbled.
...
The first thing Asher noticed was dust.
An overwhelming, itchy sensation forced tears from his eyes. The floor was stone cold, a pillow of concrete.
Asher let out a soft groan.
'My memory's hazy... What hap-'
[He brought the masked Don's shoulder to his teeth.]
Dripping red words filled his eyes.
Asher flinched as the prompt's letters weaved themselves into a tapestry, into a picture too realistic to be an illusion.
His eyes flashed open, revealing the metallic warehouse ceiling above him.
[With a single twist, he tore off a mouthful of flesh.]
The words built a scene that he could not recall.
'Wha... What do you mean?'
[$%^%^%JUS&*(*&$%$TICE@#$]
[Justice +38]
[Days remaining: 5]
Asher climbed to his feet. The System was acting strange.
What did he do to gain so much Justice-?
Sophie's hand slipped out of his.
It was so lifeless that he hadn't noticed.
His gaze trailed downward.
"oh"
Asher whispered.
"you're dead."
His pupils hollowed.
He remembered. The sensation of the masked Don's metal flesh on his teeth, the agonized screams of the white-haired Don, he remembered it all.
A hand touched his shoulder.
Asher's head turned slowly, as if directed by puppet strings.
Then he flinched.
"Yan?"
Yan held his shoulder, pursing her lips as she tried to give some sort of condolence to the shattered soul.
"Asher... I'm sorry."
Asher's mouth trembled open.
Words formed on his lips, yet all of them were silent.
Yan led the conversation in Asher's place, something she never could have done before.
"I carried you and Sophie here by... a Prescript," she tensed, yet Asher did not react. "Don't worry, I won't hurt you."
Asher shivered, unresponsive.
"A-Are you alright?" Yan brought Asher closer to her face.
The boy's eyes were empty.
"does it matter?"
Yan grit her teeth, clenching Asher's shoulder with enough force for him to wince. She couldn't believe her eyes, how hollow and defeated he was-
Words burst from her without so much as a second thought.
"Yes, it does matter! To me, okay? I don't want to see you like this, okay?!" Her cracked voice filled the air.
The Messenger's eyes glistened with tears. This time, there was no conflict in her expression. Prescript or not, she needed to say this.
Asher's grief was swept away by confusion.
"but aren't you following... Prescript?"
As if to cut him off, the girl's hands pushed forward, wrapping around Asher's neck. But as Asher braced his neck for the inevitable strangling, she fell toward him, into an embrace instead.
"I-I don't know! I don't know anymore!"
Yan began to weep, soaking his sleeve with tears.
All the emotions she had left were exposed on her face, in her trembles, and in the teardrops cutting her skin to ribbons, streaks of pinkish red.
Asher's eyes widened. Before he could think, his shaking arms wrapped around, pressing into the Messenger's cloak.
Yan jolted from the shock. She thought Asher hated her, so why were his arms so gentle?
And maybe he did, some time ago. But not now, when he most needed the comfort of someone he knew, anyone he knew.
Asher's voice whispered in her ear.
"...cry for someone who deserves it, not me."
Those hopeless words only made Yan press deeper.
She raised her head from his chest, filling Asher's vision with glittering cobalt pupils.
"I-I guess that means you deserve it." As she spoke, her lips drew into an exhausted, mosaic-like smile.
The streaks of tears on her face created an uncanny, unseemly expression that imprinted itself into Asher's mind.
Asher froze. He just now realized, but their faces were close.
Close enough to touch.
Yan's breath tickled his lips as they stood still, melded with each other, millimeters apart.
A few long seconds passed.
Asher's heartbeat quickened, then calmed itself. The despair seeped into him abated somewhat, under the overwhelming stimulation.
Perhaps each of them was waiting for the other to make a move.
But not today. With so much anguish in the air, there was no way something like that could happen.
"Are you alright now?"
Yan pushed away from Asher. The boy didn't stop her, allowing his arms to fall limply to his sides.
He nodded, a little dazed. Yet, his mind had cleared as well.
"Mhm. Thanks, Yan."
However, Yan wasn't looking at him. Asher followed her gaze downward, to the corpse below.
"I'm sorry. I can tell how close you were to her."
Asher's eyes dimmed. His voice dipped into a whisper.
"Yeah. She's my partner."
Yan looked back at him, trying to determine what he meant by 'partner'. Then she pinched herself. A Messenger shouldn't be thinking about such insultingly low thoughts.
"The Prescripts made this warehouse safe from Sweepers for the night. Will you stay? Or return?"
Asher shrugged, lying down by Sophie's side. He rummaged through her body, digging out a bloodied phone as Yan stepped out of his vision.
He tapped the fingerprint sensor.
The phone refused to unlock.
[The Scorched Girl's soul has been lost temporarily. During this time, Host cannot use the Abnormality's skills or transform into its body.]
[Days Remaining: 5]
Of course.
The situation he was in had once again slipped from his mind. He wordlessly grabbed the girl's wrist, bringing her thumb to the scanner.
But this time, the phone itself displayed a small rejection message on its screen.
(Fingerprint Match! However, this user is determined to be deceased because of two (2) factors: biological flesh, absent pulse.)
(If the analysis results shown above are incorrect, please contact an Overseer.)
Asher scanned through the message dully. Yet another reminder that she was dead. The Hana issued phone sure was meticulous.
A few more seconds passed, and instructions replaced the previous text.
(Proceed to the nearest Hana Association branch to register the death manually, or it will automatically register in three (3) days.)
(Any further attempts to unlock this phone will result in death.)
...Death?
Asher placed the phone by his side.
His vision swam with exhaustion; he didn't want to think about this, when even thinking about thinking about this was becoming difficult.
He ignored the stench of blood, pressing himself against Sophie's corpse as he faded into unconsciousness.
His sleep was haunted by nightmares.