[It feels like he's squeezing his still-beating heart with his own fingers. Like he's tearing out between the bones of his ribcage, digging into the warm, wet cavity of muscle. It's slimy, disgusting--his stomach lurches.
And, oh, it hurts. But of course it hurts. He's died so many times, at the hands of so many different people.
Rosiel. Arachne. A knife fight in a back alley. The car crash with his mother. Time and again, dozens, hundreds even, as Kira Sakuya. And before that, as Nanatsusaya. Over, and over, and over...
But what's a little pain? Existence is agony, isn't it?
It's the first time he's had to rip his own heart out, but in spite of the horror, in spite of Akira's voice within himself begging him not to do it, he finds that he can, and he does.
And then all of his existence is still as his heart stops.
cw: gore/body horror
And, oh, it hurts. But of course it hurts. He's died so many times, at the hands of so many different people.
Rosiel. Arachne. A knife fight in a back alley. The car crash with his mother. Time and again, dozens, hundreds even, as Kira Sakuya. And before that, as Nanatsusaya. Over, and over, and over...
But what's a little pain? Existence is agony, isn't it?
It's the first time he's had to rip his own heart out, but in spite of the horror, in spite of Akira's voice within himself begging him not to do it, he finds that he can, and he does.
And then all of his existence is still as his heart stops.
Death. Again.]