𝗠𝗔𝗚𝗜𝗖𝗜𝗔𝗡'𝗦 𝗣𝗟𝗔𝗬! ━━━━ mao isara (on hold)

61. fault (mao)

ᡣ𐭩 . no au | angst

Three bodies swayed above the ground, surrounded by darkness of the early hours of the morning. The three bodies linked themselves together by holding hands, a letter stuck out of the middle one's jacket pocket.

Mao Isara wishes he could turn back time to when he didn't see the dead figures of his unit mates - his best friends - those he called brothers for nearly two years.

The blame of the rest of Trickstar's joint suicide was piled onto anyone who came across Mao. Izumi Sena, Wataru Hibiki, Hajime Shino, and so on.

Nobody dared to let Mao speak his thoughts, no matter how much he begged on his knees to let them do so.

It made others laugh, really. Seeing who they thought as the Devil's worst sin weak on the floor pleading them for something good.

It wasn't until a month after the rest of Trickstar's deaths that he found out why a load of other students blamed him.

It took a month in total for the police investigation to find clues to why the three students died, debunking whether or not their intentions were their own or by someone else.

It was only a late morning after that Mao was handed a letter by one of the few said officers. The officer looked serious and yet concerned after seeing how much of a mess Mao seemed to be in. Dishevelled, dirtied, and very much unlike himself.

The police officer tells Mao that they found the letter in Hokuto Hidaka's blue Trickstar jacket that he was wearing at the time of his death. Subaru and Makoto matched him.

It seemed as though they wanted to shine, even through the time of passing.

The letter, it only read a few words that nobody could piece as a clue.

Not even as Mao Isara tried to wrack through his thoughts and memories, failing to find anything that could be put together as he hints to Trickstar's joint suicide.

Why those words?

Just them.

Words that scared him deep under his heart.

Words that almost made Mao want to join them in the afterlife just to find clues and be with them once more.

The letter...

...Written as clear as day...

...It spelt out his full name in clear, massive bold letters. Scribbled words surrounded it, all large and messy, like screams of hatred.