Chapter 34

Yuki wakes slowly, dragged upward by the steady beeping beside her bed and the dull ache pressing behind her eyes.

Voices move somewhere beyond the room, quiet and distant, interrupted now and then by the squeak of shoes against polished hospital floors.

She stays still for a moment, disoriented, staring at the pale ceiling above her while her thoughts struggle to reconnect.

Then the memory returns.

Not all at once. It arrives in flashes violent enough to make her flinch against the mattress.

The deafening crack of gunfire. Someone collapsing in front of her. Blood striking her face while she sat there too stunned to move. She remembers staring at him on the floor, waiting for him to breathe again even after she already knew he wouldn’t.

Yuki jerks upright too quickly and pain shoots through her temples. The monitor beside her reacts instantly, its calm rhythm breaking into sharp, rapid beeps.

The sudden movement tightens the grip around her hands.

Startled, she looks down.

Her grandmother is sitting on one side of the bed, both frail hands wrapped tightly around Yuki’s left hand. Her eyes are red-rimmed and exhausted, relief breaking visibly across her face the second she sees her granddaughter awake.

“Yuyu,” she breathes shakily, rising halfway out of her chair. “Oh, thank God..”

The words barely reach her.

Yuki’s attention locks entirely onto Dori who’s sitting on the other side.

His fingers are clasped around her right hand.

For one terrible second, she can’t breathe.

The memory crashes into her once more. She sees his arm lifting. Hears the gunshots. Sees blood burst across the room while he stood there completely calm.

But now he looks at her with concern, his brows drawn slightly together, thumb brushing lightly across her knuckles like he’s been worried sick.

“Welcome back, baby,” he says softly.

The gentleness of it makes her stomach turn.

Yuki stares at him in mute horror before ripping her hand away so suddenly the IV line tugs painfully against her arm.

Her grandmother flinches.

“Yuyu? Are you alright, dear? Do you remember what happened? Dori said you suddenly collapsed, and he brought you here right away..”

Her pulse hammers in her ears. Her fingers curl into the bedsheet. She can feel Dori’s eyes on her, waiting to see what she will do.

“I got so scared when I came to the living room and found the front door wide open and neither of you home..” her grandmother continues, voice still shaking as she holds onto Yuki’s hand a little too tightly.

The sentence trails off as the door to the room opens, and a doctor steps in, followed by a nurse.

The nurse glances at the monitor first, then at Yuki, adjusting the IV stand without rushing. The doctor approaches the bed and gives a brief, professional nod to the grandmother and Dori before focusing on Yuki.

“Hello there,” he says gently, checking the chart in his hands before setting it aside.

Yuki doesn’t respond.

Her body is still too tense, her eyes fixed somewhere between the doctor’s shoulder and the wall beyond him.

The doctor steps closer, shining a small light into her eyes. “Can you look at me?”

Yuki forces her gaze forward, but it takes effort. Everything feels slightly out of reach, like she’s watching the moment happen through thick glass.

“Good,” the doctor murmurs, observing her pupils. “Any dizziness? Pain? Do you remember what happened before you lost consciousness?”

Yuki swallows.

It feels loud in her own ears.

For a moment she cannot bring herself to answer the doctor at all. Her eyes flick, almost helplessly, to her grandmother first. The old woman is watching her with open worry, hands clasped together like she’s silently begging her to answer.

Then Yuki looks at Dori.

He meets her look immediately, still sitting beside the bed, perfectly composed, one hand resting loose against the armrest as though he has every right to be there.

He does not look guilty. He does not look worried. Like nothing about taking a life has disrupted him in any meaningful way.

Her throat works.

She knows what he is waiting for.

Compliance.

The doctor pauses. “Yuki?”

She jerks her gaze back as if summoned.

Her fingers curl tighter into the sheet. She can feel the fear in her chest, tight and brutal, but she forces her face into something close to normal.

Her voice comes out small.

“I’m fine,” she says. “I just.. blacked out or something.”

Her eyes flicker toward her grandmother again, then away, because she can’t hold that look too long without breaking.

“I was drinking tea,” she adds. “And then everything just.. went black. That’s all I remember.”

For a moment, there is only the beep of the monitor.

Then, from the corner of her vision, she sees Dori shift.

He leans back slightly in his chair, tilting his head just enough for her to feel his attention settle fully on her. Even without looking directly at him.

Then a small smirk pulls at the corner of his mouth.

Yuki keeps her head still.

Doesn’t look at him.

Doesn’t acknowledge it.

But her stomach tightens anyway, because she sees it clearly from the edge of her vision.

The doctor glances between them once more before making a final note on the chart.

“Well,” he says after a moment, “everything looks normal. Your vitals are stable, your pupils are responsive, and there doesn’t appear to be any sign of head trauma or anything more serious.”

He closes the folder lightly.

“It was most likely stress-related exhaustion, possibly combined with low blood sugar or dehydration. I’d recommend rest for the next couple of days and making sure she eats properly.”

Her grandmother exhales in visible relief, one hand pressing briefly to her chest.

“So she’s alright?” she asks quickly.

The doctor nods. “As far as I can tell, yes. I don’t see any reason to keep her here overnight if she feels steady enough to go home.”

The nurse begins disconnecting the IV while her grandmother thanks the doctor repeatedly, and Dori straightens slightly in his chair.

Yuki says nothing.

She just keeps staring ahead while the tape is peeled from her skin, trying not to look toward the small smirk she can still feel lingering beside her.

○○○

By the time they get home, it is close to 2 a.m.

The rain falls heavily outside, eating away at the snow until the streets are nothing but wet pavement and slush shining beneath the streetlights.

Water drips from the roof as they step inside, bringing the cold in with them before the door shuts again.

Everything after that feels muted.

Her grandmother fusses over her one last time before bed despite barely being able to keep her own eyes open. She smooths Yuki’s hair back gently, cups her face for a moment, then presses a tired kiss against her forehead.

“Get some sleep, Yuyu,” she murmurs softly. “Everything’s alright now.”

Yuki almost breaks at the words.

But she nods anyway.

Because she has to.

“Goodnight, Grandma.”

The old lady disappears slowly down the hallway toward her room, exhausted enough that her footsteps drag slightly against the floorboards.

Yuki waits until the bedroom door closes before finally turning toward her own room.

She makes it halfway there.

Then suddenly stops.

Her stomach lurches so violently she barely has time to react before she rushes toward the bathroom, one hand catching the wall hard enough to steady herself as she stumbles inside.

The door slams shut behind her.

She drops to her knees in front of the toilet and vomits immediately. Everything comes up at once in painful waves that leave her shaking so hard she can barely breathe between them.

Not because she’s sick.

Because she’s finally alone.

The survival instinct that kept her upright all night finally breaks apart the second nobody is there to see it.

A choked sound escapes her throat between breaths. Half cough, half sob.

The images come back harder now that she isn’t forcing them down.

Blood across the floor.

The gunshots.

Dori’s gaze.

Yuki squeezes her eyes shut, but it only makes everything clearer.

She leans over the toilet as another wave tears through her.

Afterward, she stays there on the bathroom floor, one arm wrapped around her stomach while the other grips weakly at the cold tile beside her.

Her breathing refuses to steady. Every time she manages to pull in air, another image crashes into her head before she can calm down again.

Her chest tightens so painfully she thinks for a moment she might actually stop breathing. A broken sound escapes her throat before she quickly bites it back down, eyes darting instinctively toward the door even though nobody is there.

Her hands shake so badly she can barely reach for the towel hanging beside the sink. She pulls it over her head and curls inward beneath it automatically.

The darkness and pressure usually help. Usually, after a few minutes, her breathing slows enough for her thoughts to settle.

Not this time.

This time, every time she starts calming down, she sees it again.

The man dropping to the floor.

Dori looking completely untouched by it.

The three holes.

Blood.

Blood.

Lots of blood.

Minutes blur together. Then longer than that.

The rain keeps hitting the windows outside in violent waves while Yuki remains curled on the floor, trembling beneath the towel.

It takes almost two hours before the panic finally begins to loosen its grip.

Even then, it doesn’t really leave.

Her breathing simply becomes manageable again.

Slowly, exhausted beyond thought, Yuki lowers the towel from her head.

Her eyes burn. Her throat aches raw.

For a while she just stares blankly at the bathroom tiles beneath her, too drained to move.

Then, eventually, she forces herself up.

Her legs feel unsteady beneath her as she walks quietly down the dark hallway toward her room.

When she reaches her bedroom door, she stops.

The room beyond is dark, faintly illuminated by the gray light filtering through the rain-streaked window. Her Totoro plushie sits near the pillows exactly where she left it, untouched and ordinary in a way that suddenly feels unbearable.

Yuki stares at it without moving.

And somewhere in the quiet exhaustion hollowing her out, something finally clicks into place: a cold, sickening realization of how dangerous this actually is and how careful she has to be.

She cannot drag anyone else into this recklessly, cannot tell the wrong person, cannot trust the wrong instinct just because she is scared and desperate. One mistake could put someone else in his path, and now she knows exactly what that means.

Isamu.

Worman.

The bald man..

She lets out a deep sigh and drags her hands through her hair, pressing her fingers against her scalp as if trying to steady the storm inside her.

She hopes Worman comes back soon. Soon enough to help. Soon enough for them to figure out how to make this stop, how to put Dori behind bars so he cannot touch her, cannot touch anyone else.

Yuki exhales shakily and finally turns toward her bed.

Halfway there, she passes the mirror.

She barely looks at it first―just a passing glance, tired and unfocused―but something catches. Her steps slow. Then stop.

Her gaze snaps back.

She moves slowly toward the mirror, like her thoughts are only beginning to grasp what her body already senses is wrong.

Then her breath hitches.

The blood, the stains―

they’re gone.

She swallows hard.

Dori must have done it.

Cleaned her. And washed her clothes.

But the thought doesn’t stop where she wants it to.

It keeps going.

Because that also means he had her alone.

Unconscious.

Her hands tremble and curl slightly at her sides.

And he took her clothes off.

○○○

Dori lies shirtless on the hotel bed. He holds a few pictures in his hand and stares at them closely. His cheeks are flushed a bright red, and he bites his lip as his eyes move over the photos.

The room is quiet, except for the sound of his breath. Slowly, his breathing gets heavier and faster. He stares at the image in his hands, his chest rising and falling.

A soft chuckle escapes his lips, dark and amused.

“Ah.. Yuki..”

TO BE CONTINUED..