SUBMIT

30

Nanami should've known that being by Menreiki's side brought misfortune.

No, he knew that. He knew that very well.

Those who attended to Menreiki's side in the time of old were not spared from her cruelty. Or at least that is what was said. Menreiki was uncaring and selfish, she sacrificed those who were unneeded for her benefit, and took no interest in their loyalty. Nanami had read those reports from those sorcerers who had barely survived an encounter with the cursed spirit, and his disgust for her prior to meeting her had only deepened. Nanami knew the dangers that came with Menreiki, especially those who tended to linger by her side, and yet he and Kuono chose to be beside her.

Perhaps that's why blood was shed.

"Nanami!" Menreiki's voice was loud. Louder than usual. It was tense and forced, almost akin to be choked. It was unlike the gentle soft stringy flow of words that rolled off her tongue. Nanami didn't know what to say to soothe the rocky, unsteady tremor in her throat; not when his eyes lingered towards the red splatters painting the ground. "Nanami!"

The sorcerer's gaze snapped over to the cursed spirit, the one whose facials never twitched with emotions unless completely overwhelmed. The neutral line of her lips wavered, and her skin was marred that same crimson color on the side of her left cheek, swooping down and just barely grazing her jawline. Her silver eyes were shimmering, pools of melted metal that encased black and dilated pupils that quivered. The sorcerer couldn't say anything, couldn't move and couldn't bring comfort to the one calling for him, no, he couldn't.

Why couldn't he?

The seven masks enclosed the cursed spirit who rocked back and forth. They spun around her slowly like a crib mobile as their voices remained low, as if singing a comforting lullaby.

But why?

Why did Menreiki start to cry?

Nanami knew he had strength in his bones, he knew he did. He could tell by the way his muscles twitched in response to the way she called for him. He could feel every creak in his body, every blood vessel that traveled throughout his body, and the way the air in his lungs tumbled with every breath he took. Yet, for some odd reason, the blond sorcerer felt as if he had been robbed of all of that vigor as his eyes stared. Slowly, he made his way to her. Slowly, he regained his consciousness.

Slowly, Nanami reached out to anchor the drifting Menreiki.

Oh, but poor Nanami did not know that he should have been quicker than maliciously sweet words.

Menreiki's voice no longer echoed through the empty clearing, and the masks merely hummed into her ears as she looked down at her arms. She listened to the seven masks like they were the melody of the universe, ones who had the ultimate answer to her woes. Her quivering lips steadied before it tilted up, stretching until they parted into a grin. Her eyes closed and the bodies of water that had gradually grown inside her eye sockets tipped over and fell down the curve of her cheek. A laugh escaped her, but was it of humor, sadness or malice?

Perhaps it was all.

Perhaps it was none.

But Nanami knew grief, and Menreiki's laughter evolved into a terrifying scream as she gripped her head with her left hand. Her pristine hair was messed up by her own hand as she tugged at it until it looked like she would rip it from its roots. But eventually, she settled and arched her back to lean forward.

Menreiki whispered words that were not for his ears and laid her forehead down before closing her eyes.

Her face softened.