Destined

29

Yaz

26 years old

Present day, in Tokyo, Japan.

"Akasuki!" I shouted, relief flooding me when I saw him standing there, unharmed. I had arrived the moment Isamus black car drove away. I had been beside myself with panic when Toru had told me about Akasuki coming here.

He looks up with his eyes widening and he's about to say something when I see movement behind him. A knife is out of my pocket immediately and I throw it towards the figure. But it's too late Akasuki's been stabbed in the back and he crumbles to the floor. My knife hits the figure through the head and the figure falls, choking on his own blood.

I call for the paramedics without even thinking as I bolt for where Akasuki has fallen. I'm holding him in my arms when the paramedics say they'll be there, hanging up the phone.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

There's so much blood and he was looking up at me, his eyes wide. I'm breathing heavily, "Okay. Okay. Okay." I mumble. Ripping a long piece of fabric from the tablecloth and wrapping it around his body, tying it tightly. He grunts and I say, "It's okay. You'll be okay."

I'm moving frantically, panic in my vision, "The wound isn't that bad." I say more to myself than him. But there is something wrong. He's sweating a lot, his skin is already pale.

My eyes are wide and I'm brushing my hand through his hair. He puts his hand over mine and we're both shaking.

"There was poison on the knife." He says, stopping my hand from moving. He's panting heavily.

"What?" I ask, "What do you mean?"

His breath is uneven and he's dying too quickly. His eyes are sad, "I'm sorry," There's pain in them, "I'm sorry you had to see this."

My eyes are watering, "What?" I shake my head, "No, don't say that!"

One of his hands grabs mine, interlacing our fingers. And the other reaches up to my face, brushing my hair behind my ears. I'm crying now but it's a different pain. These tears feel different. They were not the tears I had shed for Lyn or even the tears I had shed for Haru. These were different. They hurt so much worse.

"Would you believe me," he breathes out, "If i told you we met before that night."

I let out a sob, "I'd believe anything you say."

He lets out a choked laugh, " We met on a beach in Los Angeles. I think you were seventeen. You had told me your favorite quote. Do you remember?"

I nod, tears streaking my face, "Yeah, I remember." I'm trying to blink away the tears so I can see him more clearly.

He repeats the quote from memory, "time and time again, the people we love die and still, even when we warn them, they walk into death's arms as if it were a warm embrace." I let out another sob and he's fighting to keep his eyes open, he's still brushing my cheek with his thumb, part of his hand in my hair, "you were always smart."

I can tell he wants to shut his eyes but he's keeping them open for me

I squeeze mine shut then open them again, "Stay."

He gives a shaky breath, "I don't think I can."

"Just for a little longer." I whisper, my voice shaking.

Theres a fucked up sort of deja vu to it from a moment we were happy to this moment where we are far from it. But he doesn't say okay.

Instead he puts both his hands in my hair and pulls my face down to his, kissing my forehead. I shut my eyes, breathing him in, his scent mixed with blood. And I'm crying so hard it feels like I'll never stop.

When his hands go limp falling from my hair I put my face in his neck, trembling as I let out sobs. I pull away, cupping his face with my hands, "You promised," I say through tears.

I drop my face into his chest and let out a pained scream. Of years we'll never get to spend. Of the baby that he'll never get to meet.

I reach for his hands clenching them in mine.

I scream and I scream and I scream.

What would I give? To have one more moment, one more memory with him. To have him meet his child? What would I give, to grow old with him? To be happy with him one more time.

What would I give?

The answer to that question is horrible in its own way. Because I would give everything. I would give anything.

I would give my life for his. But he's already given his for mine.

When I pull away, I press a kiss to his Jasmine tattoo.

There are still tears falling from my eyes.

I never want to let go. But it's never about what I want.