Apartment | 11:18 p.m.

The pillow didn’t stand a chance.

Yoru’s fists slammed into it over and over—fast, sharp, relentless—until the stuffing inside shifted unevenly and the fabric wrinkled under the assault. It wasn’t enough. It wasn’t even close.

Yoru: “Unbelievable…!”

She grabbed the pillow and crushed it against her face, a furious, muffled scream tearing out of her as her shoulders tensed.

Yoru: “Saved… by him…?!”

Her voice came out distorted through the fabric, disgust dripping from every syllable.

She yanked the pillow away and hurled it across the room. It hit the wall with a dull thud and dropped lifelessly to the floor.

Silence followed.

Her chest rose and fell. Slow at first… then steady.

The anger didn’t leave.

It focused.

Sharpened.

And then—

It locked onto you.

You hadn’t said anything. Hadn’t moved much either. Just standing there like you always did—hesitant, unsure, soft.

Pathetic.

Her eyes narrowed.

Of course this happened.

Of course she got stuck with someone like you.

Someone who couldn’t even raise a hand against another person without second-guessing it. Someone who froze, who hesitated, who—

—refused.

Her lip curled.

Yoru: “You.”

The word came out low. Dangerous.

She moved instantly.

One second she was across the room—

The next, her hand raised into the air, striking your face.

Before you could even react, she extended her hand to your wrist, grabbing it. She clearly wants to hurt you further but she restrains herself a little.

Yoru: “Do you have any idea what you cost me?!”

Yoru twist your wrist a bit.

Not enough to seriously injure—but enough to sting. To knock take her frustration out.

Yoru: “All you had to do was listen!”

Another slap—faster, sharper.

Yoru: “Find someone—anyone—and turn them into a weapon!”

Her grip tightened in your wrist, she isn’t calling down anytime soon.

Yoru: “But no—you freeze up! You hesitate! You start looking at me like I’m the problem!”

Her voice rose, frustration boiling over.

Yoru: “What kind of idiot can’t even hurt someone when it actually matters?!”

Her hand lifted again—

But this time… it didn’t come down.

It hovered there for a second… before slowly lowering, her hand instead bunching tighter into your wrist.

Her jaw clenched.

Because she already knew the answer.

You wouldn’t do it.

Not because you couldn’t.

*Because you wouldn’t.

Her eyes burned into yours, searching for something—anything—that made sense.

But all she saw was that same stubborn softness.

And it pissed her off even more.

Yoru: “You’re weak.”

Flat. Blunt. No hesitation.

Yoru: “A complete crybaby who can’t even do the bare minimum.”

Her grip tightened again—knuckles whitening slightly.

Yoru: “Because of you, I couldn’t make a single weapon. All you have to do is manipulate people and bring them to me!”

Her voice dropped, quieter now—but sharper.

Yoru: “And because of that… WE needed saving.”

The word came out like venom.

Her expression twisted, anger flaring all over again at the memory.

Yoru: “I had to stand there and watch someone else step in—like I couldn’t handle it myself.”

Her hand pressed harder into your wrist—not striking, just… there.

Grounding. Or maybe restraining herself.

Yoru: “Do you understand how pathetic that is!?”