𝐑𝐄𝐅𝐋𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒; 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐢 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

I'm God

The wind blowing from an air vent and onto her face was what woke her up.

Maki's eyes sprung open, a gasp leaving her lips as she found herself in what she figured was a hospital bed. There was no IV drip next to her, so she wasn't dying, and a small sigh of relief made its way up her throat until she pushed it down with a firm swallow.

On the other side of the room that she found herself in, a door was cracked open, leaving room for her to eavesdrop on the small conversation going on beyond the door. Her arm urged to get up, so her muscles pulled her up out of her bed until she nearly toppled over, catching herself with her palms flat on the cold floor. That's when she noticed them.

The scars on her arms that led all the way up to her sleeves—she could tell they didn't stop there. She couldn't feel them but she knew they were all over her face. Whoever took care of her (Shoko, she blindly guesses) must've known the damage it would do if Maki saw her own reflection, as the mirror was covered up on the wall adjacent to her.

Her heart sank. Even feeling her fingers run over the bumps and scars on her arms reminded of how she got them. And then her insides boiled with anger for who was responsible. She should be mad at that volcano shaped cursed spirit, and she is. Her own fists clenched at the thought of it. But she could've been saved, despite how weak that makes her look. You could've saved her, if you'd just grown a pear and dragged her away from that spirit, she wouldn't be in this damned room with these godforsaken scars. She would be with you, where she belonged.

And yet, as her heart still aches and her innards still burn with rage, it does nothing to alleviate the shallowness inside her. The emptiness. The festering yearning in her core as it calls out for you—you, despite being the source of one of her greatest pains. You, despite leaving her for dead on that floor. You, despite having lied to her and ripped her heart out.

Maki swallowed again, moisturizing her throat as she picks herself up again. Momentarily she'd forgotten how to walk. Though her legs carried her anyways and soon enough she was reaching for the door handle, hoping and praying to every god that might be up there that she'd find you right outside.

Her hopes were crushed once again when she only found Shoko and another woman conversing briefly with one another. Shoko was leaning against a wall, a cigarette lingering in one hand and a coffee mug in her other. Steam emanated from the brown liquid, indicating that it'd been made not too long ago.

The woman, who was sitting on one of the couches in the middle of the room—Yuki—turned her head to find Maki walking in. Yuki's eyes lifted when she found Maki shuffling her way into the room. She cocked her head, motioning for her to hurry up.

"I saw you on the floor while I was in Shibuya," Yuki calls out to Maki, who was still standing there. A frown had been painted on her scarred face since the moment she'd woken up just a few minutes ago, and her lips pursed into a line.

"It's a miracle you're alive," Yuki continues despite the silence in return. "What's your name?"

"Yuki, don't pry. She's probably just woken up," Shoko interrupted, taking a slow sip from her coffee. Her other hand—the one with the cigarette lingering between her fingers— held the mug so she wouldn't drop it with her slightly shaky hands.

"Maki," she answers bluntly, not paying any mind to the look that Shoko spares her for a moment. Yuki, who'd been facing Shoko when she interrupted her, turned her head to now face Maki once again as her lips parted slightly.

"Ah," she nodded her head briefly. Maki knew she was hiding something—as if Yuki had known everything about her already just from hearing her name. And then Maki wondered back to the time that you were gone. She connected the dots—the familiarity in Yuki's tone, the nod to her head, and the wild guess that she'd made—her eyebrows furrow when she comes to a conclusion.