Chapter Text
This attacker isn't as skilled with his blade as the train station assailant. The pain in Ukyo's torso isn't so searing this time, and he's not coughing blood out of his lungs. He still loses blood at a dizzying rate, though: It pours out the many wounds in his chest and stomach, like something squeezed out of a sponge. He'll bleed out for sure, and then be just as dead as he was that August seventh. His attacker then fled the scene immediately, but this one stays at his side. It makes sense. The train station psycho chose him at random, but for this one, it's personal.
Ukyo knew this was coming the moment he spotted Toma here at the park, near the old shrine, so out of the way, and so late at night. Walking at night is more dangerous for him in worlds like this one, but, in worlds like this one, it's also so much harder to sleep, knowing where she's spending her nights.
Will Toma dispose of his body in the old well, once he's dead? He would have to drag it a ways, but that'd be a good strategy. Ukyo hopes he will, hopes even in death he can keep Toma away from her just that little bit longer. Maybe she can find some peace in this timeline yet: Of the two men she should fear the most, one will soon be dead and the other… will have at least gotten this out of his system.
Even as painful as the stab wounds are, this is better than last time. Last time Toma strangled him with his bare hands, a first for Ukyo. He hasn't suffocated many times, but he rates strangulation as much worse than passively running out of air. Tonight, in comparison, isn't so bad. The first time Ukyo ever bled out was terrifying, but he's had that death many times since. With the repetition came a sort of peace. Now that he knows there's no way he'll survive anyway, it's almost comforting to watch it all spill out on the ground, a sticky crimson countdown to his next trip to another world.
Toma's cold, dark eyes watch him with strange intensity. Probably wants to make absolutely sure he's dead before leaving or disposing of the body.
"You know," Ukyo murmurs, his voice quiet but clear, "You're the one I like the least. Maybe not the worst of them—maybe—but the one I most hate to see again."
Toma's eyebrows pinch together in puzzlement. He says nothing.
"That said, you won't leave me, right Toma?"
Toma's not surprised Ukyo knows his name, even though he never gave it this time. He thinks Ukyo is some crazed stalker, like Rika and her cronies. Ukyo wheezes in a rattling breath.
"I'm glad. I hate dying alone. Even having you here will be better."
"What the hell are you saying?" Toma speaks at last.
"Forget it…" Ukyo shudders as he takes another breath. The fear of bleeding out may have faded with repetition, but the pain's still quite present. "…you get intense tunnel vision when it comes to her, huh?"
"…that's right."
"Would you believe I know the feeling? Perhaps even better than you do." After all, tonight Toma's only killing for her, while Ukyo's dying for her. Nevermind how much both prospects would horrify her.
"You're some kind of sick. So yeah, maybe I could believe that."
Some kind of sick. Laughing hurts so much at a time like this, but Ukyo can't help himself. Toma has no idea. No idea.
"Hey!" Toma's voice carries a mix of anger and revulsion. Ukyo laughs all the harder. "Hey! Shut up, will you? If you keep making noise, I'll have to slit your throat."
"…ahaha, ha, oh, you will? Why didn't you just do that first, then? Could've saved us both some time…"
Perhaps he was wrong to think these stab wounds were random, that pure dumb luck kept the internal bleeding to a minimum. Perhaps Toma attacked him this way because he wants him to bleed out slowly.
"Toma." Ukyo swallows thickly. "Is there something you're hoping I'll tell you? Before my time is up again?"
At first Toma looks too angry to answer him, but the coldness seeps back into his eyes.
"You're different from the others, aren't you?" he says, "You're not interested in her because you read the rumors online or saw those pictures, and you're definitely not in Ikki's fanclub."
"You're right. I'm not like the others."
"What, then? You're too old to be one of her classmates. Is it the café? Did you see her in that damn maid outfit and become obsessed?"
"Do you plan to make her quit permanently if I say yes? Or were you planning on doing that anyway, just in case?"
Toma's eyes narrow, but he doesn't respond.
"No, we didn't meet at the café."
"You didn't 'meet' anywhere. She said she didn't know you. Unless you're telling me she's wrong? Or that she's lying?"
"She's not, she's not." Damn, that was dangerously sloppy of him. "I misspoke. Call it wishful thinking." Toma looks unconvinced. "She doesn't know me. Some days that's what hurts the most, you know, that she doesn't even know me."
Now Toma looks satisfied with his explanation, like he no longer suspects her of lying. Good.
"You still haven't told me how you know her."
"You don't need me to. Focus on the fanclub and the Internet stalkers. I promise you'll never find another one like me."
Toma frowns for several seconds. Ukyo's vision blurs around the edges. If Toma takes much longer thinking, Ukyo won't live to see his conclusion.
With a sigh and a shrug, Toma finally says, "I'm not even sure what you mean, but I believe you."
"I know better than to lie to you."
Toma's grip tightens on his blade. Is he uncomfortable with the familiarity in Ukyo's voice? Or is he simply ready to put him out of his misery, now that he's gotten him to talk? Ukyo's dead before he can find out.