Yato adjusted the collar of his expensive suit, his fingers brushing against the silk. The fabric, fine and smooth, matched his appearance-slender, sharp features, and a posture that spoke of confidence. His hair, neatly styled, was a gleaming shade of blonde, and his blue eyes flickered with a bored disinterest as he glanced across the table at Miya.
The café around them was quiet, the soft hum of murmured conversation and clinking cups filling the air, but the atmosphere between them?
It was anything but peaceful.
Miya sat across from him, her long, curly light-brown hair falling over her shoulders like a cascade of silk. She was beautiful, no doubt about it, but Yato couldn't bring himself to care anymore. The fire that had once drawn him to her had long since burned out. Now, all that remained was the weight of his impending escape.
Her black eyes, wide and hollow, stared at him with an emptiness that was almost suffocating. He could feel the tension between them, the thick silence wrapping around him like a trap.
Yato sighed, rolling his eyes inwardly as he glanced down at the silverware, pretending to admire the pattern on the table. "I think we're done here."
His voice was nonchalant, the tone of someone who had already made up their mind. Miya's gaze didn't waver. She was quiet, her hands trembling slightly as they gripped the edge of her coffee cup.
"Done?" Her voice came out soft, like she was almost too exhausted to care, but Yato could see it-the flicker of something beneath the surface. "You're just going to throw everything away like it was nothing?"
Yato smirked, leaning back in his chair as if the conversation was beneath him. "It's not like that. I just... need a change, that's all. You've been getting in the way."
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a thick wad of cash, tossing it onto the table with a casual flick of his wrist. "Take this. It's enough for you to forget everything-me, us, everything. Go live your life, Miya. You're holding me back."
The air shifted. The café, the world outside-it all seemed to blur as Yato rose from his seat, ready to leave. But as he turned, something caught his eye-a waiter across the room, his face pale, his hands flailing in panic.
The waiter was shouting something. Yato couldn't make it out, but the urgency in his expression sent a chill crawling up his spine.
Before he could fully react, there was a loud smash.
A plate shattered against his head, the shards splintering in every direction. The sharp sting of pain flared instantly, and Yato staggered back, clutching his scalp.
Before he could process what had happened, Miya was on top of him.
Her hands, trembling but firm, grabbed the broken plate and drove it into his skull with an unrelenting frenzy. Each strike was faster, more vicious, and Yato could only feel the overwhelming pain... pain unlike anything he had ever felt.
His brain splattered against the cold, unforgiving surface of the table. His vision went dark as her crazed, wild eyes locked onto his, filled with a terrifying mix of rage and something far darker.
Yato's breath became ragged, his body feeling heavier as the life drained from him. He tried to speak, tried to fight, but the world was slipping away. His thoughts were fading. His last image was of Miya's manic grin, her lips curled into something between a scream and a laugh.
It was...
It was unfair.
▪︎●○●▪︎
The first thing Yato felt was pain. A sharp, searing pain that rushed through his body like a wild current. It felt like his skull was splitting, his brain shattering into fragments, his life slipping away.
The last image he could remember-Miya's crazy, twisted grin as she stabbed the shattered plate into his head-was burned into his mind. Was it a dream?
The pain... it had been so real. So vivid. But now, everything was silent. His body was still.
He blinked his eyes open, his vision blurry, his throat dry. His entire body felt strangely damp, like he had just emerged from a fevered dream. He instinctively hugged the blankets, seeking comfort. But something was wrong.
His voice... was wrong.
"Uh..." Yato tried to speak, but what came out was thinner, softer than his usual tone. What...?
His hands shot up to his throat in a panic. His hands were small, thinner, paler than they used to be. They felt delicate. Too delicate.
Something brushed against his face. His hair. But... this wasn't his hair.
He pulled it aside with trembling fingers, feeling the weight of it, the strange softness. His hair-it was longer, darker, and styled into twin-tails.
What the hell is going on?
Heart racing, Yato threw off the blankets and scrambled to his feet. He couldn't shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong. The bed was strange. The room was unfamiliar. The ceiling... wasn't his ceiling.
He stumbled across the room, desperate to make sense of it all. His legs felt strange, weaker, as if they were no longer his own.
When he reached the mirror, his breath hitched.
There, in the reflection, was a girl.
A small girl with dark twin-tails, large, pink eyes, and a soft, delicate face. She stared back at him with a wide-eyed innocence-an expression he hadn't seen on his own face in... well, ever.
The girl in the mirror was him.
No-it was her.
Yui Hazuki.
Yato's breath caught in his throat, his heart racing. He raised his trembling hands to the reflection. This couldn't be real. It had to be some kind of twisted dream. A nightmare.
But as his fingers traced the outline of his new face in the mirror, he knew-it was real.
Yui Hazuki.
He wasn't Yato anymore.