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TW!!!!! SELF HARM!!!!!
Back in her dorms, the quiet hum of the game had faded, but the suffocating weight of Asher's text lingered, heavy and dark.
the silence felt louder than ever. Yukiri locked the door with a sharp click, her hands trembling, mind foggy and numb.
She collapsed onto the edge of her bed, her breathing fast and shallow. The metal tracking band encircling her wrist felt like a branding iron, throbbing with a dull, sickening heat. It wasn't just a restraint; it was her past, wrapping around her throat, reminding her that no matter how much fun she had with Souki, no matter how far she ran, she had their blood running through her.
"Get off," she hissed through gritted teeth, her fingers clawing frantically at the seamless metal band. "Get off!"
She dug her fingernails into the edges, trying to force it over her hand, but the metal didn't budge. Panic spiked her White Wolf mana, the bad suppressing it down, her mana fighting back with jagged sparks along her skin. Desperate to escape the suffocating sensation, she yanked her cardigan sleeve all the way up to her elbow.
There, exposed in the harsh light, was the evidence of her pain, a pale canvas marked by crisscrossing lines of old scars and fresh, angry red marks from her constant scratching and cutting. The urge to find her blade, to quiet the screaming in her head with a familiar sting, rose like a tidal wave. She reached toward her nightstand drawer, her thumb dragging harshly over her wrist-
The door handle suddenly jingled, followed by a light, rhythmic knock.
"Yuki! Are you in there?" Kiori's sweet voice carried through the door, soft and cheerful. "I brought the strawberry cake! Souki said you looked badd!"
Yukiri froze, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. "K-Kiori, wait-"
Before she could scramble to pull her sleeve down, the door gently opened. Kiori stepped in, a small bakery box hand.
"You can always-" Kiori started, but the words died in her throat.
The bakery box nearly slipped from Kiori's fingers. Her bright wolf ears, usually perked up with endless energy, instantly flattened against her head. Her ocean like eyes widened in complete shock as her gaze fell on Yukiri's bare forearms and the metal bands, the fresh red marks, and the dark history of scars etched into her skin.
Yukiri scrambled backward on the bed, desperately slapping her hand over her sleeve, her face draining of all color. "Don't look," she choked out, her voice cracking as a sudden wave of shame washed over her. "Kiori, please—don't look at me, don't look at it—"
She braced herself for the horror, the pity, or the disgust she expected to see on her bestfriend's face.
Instead, the bakery box was set softly on the desk.
In three light steps, Kiori crossed the room and dropped to her knees right in front of Yukiri's bed. She didn't shrink away. She didn't yell. Without a word, Kiori reached up and wrapped her arms gently around Yukiri's waist, burying her face into her shoulder. Like she already knew.
Yukiri went completely rigid. "Kiori..."
"You don't have to hide from me," Kiori whispered, her voice muffled against Yukiri's cardigan, dripping of genuine comfort. "I'm not going to leave you, Yuki. You don't have to suffer by yourself."
Yukiri felt the breath catch in her throat. Her thumb slowly slid off her wrist, the dark, destructive urge melting away under the overwhelming tide of genuine affection. Her eyes welled up, and for the first time in years, she didn't fight the tears.
Slowly, hesitatingly, Yukiri lifted her arms and buried her face into Kiori's shoulder, her wolf ears drooping as she finally let herself cry.
"I'm sorry," Yukiri sobbed softly, her fingers clutching the back of Kiori's shirt like a lifeline. "I'm so sorry..."
"Shh," Kiori murmured gently, rubbing smooth, comforting circles into Yukiri's back as her tail gave a slow, reassuring thump against the floor. "There's nothing to be sorry for. I've got you, Yuki. I've got you."