blood money || YANDERE!Chuuya Nakahara

Epilogue: Point of No Return.

"So I see you've accepted your fate."

The smooth voice of Mori enters your ears as he paces behind you, his eyes closed and a serene smile on his face. His voice sounds like a church organ: deep, with something religiously sinister underneath. You sit on the chair with your head tossed back, hair streaming behind you like a (hair colour) river, eyes blankly staring at the patterned, dimly lit ceiling. Your arms are crossed over your chest.

"I've accepted I'm a mafioso for life," You say, "Not Scalpel."

"I understand," He says, "You know what I expect from you."

"You want me to embrace my nature, Mori. You want me to continue to follow my urges...Urges I've kept down for so long after defecting, cultivating them as the inspirations they are."

"How does killing make you feel, (first name)?" Mori asks. You can feel his hand rest on the back of the chair, resting against it as you can feel the smile in his voice, "Righteous?"

"Yes," You say.

Swish!

A scalpel to your neck just as you point a knife to Mori's neck.

"You must understand that the Port Mafia will entropy into chaos if you were to kill me, (First name)," Mori says. There's a hint of amusement in his voice: Try to kill me if you dare.

"I know. But I like knowing there's a possibility. I want to ruin everything you've cultivated just like you ruined me."

"Wouldn't that be very poetic?" He says, chuckling towards the end when you both pocket your respective knives, "Going for revenge like that."

"I understand my purpose now," You say, standing up from your chair and facing him. You're half-shaded in darkness, in the shadows, your eyes glinting like flint. You've lost yourself for so many years that now you have somewhat of a recognizable identity, it scares you; you are now so dangerous, "I know what I am. Doesn't that scare you, Mori?"

"Oh, quite so," He says. He walks back to his desk and sits on his chair. There's a smile on his cunning face, "My creation spiralling out of control. That does scare me quite a bit."

"I've realised as long as Chuuya is alive, I'm a mafioso at heart," You say, "As long he lives, I'm stuck here."

"How does that make you feel?"

"Identity," You say. The word sounds like it has died and rotting in your mouth when you say it, "I feel like I have an identity now."

"Well, that does scare me," Mori says, his voice melodical and deep, and smooth like black crushed velvet.

"But it's like cancer. I can't get rid of it," Your mouth speaks on its own, out of repression, out of rage for the man that had ruined your girlhood; repression breeds sublimation, and you have been a victim of such phenomena, "I'm between deaths. That's how I feel."

"Fascinating," Mori says. His eyes are wide with curiosity, at such a wild turn of events, "But I have a question, (first name)."

"What?"

"Why have you decided to fight Chuuya, knowing you will lose?" He asks, tilting his head, "I can't seem to wrap my head around that."

"It was a fight against myself. If I can beat him, then I will remain in the Port Mafia as Scalpel; if I lose, well. I'll become something else."

"What is this something else?"

You look him in the eyes, "(First name) (Last name)."

XX