Crimson Murders

Chapter Forty-Seven

Totally recommend listening to a really sad song so that you can feel the sadness as you read. You know how I said that Midoriya's eyes paling in color has a role? Well, this is where that role actually comes to play. It isn't just about him going blind at intervals of overemotional situations.

Fear is something everyone feels. Fear is something that Inko feels almost every day. That type of fear isn't anything compared to the terror she feels at the moment. The time seems to be going quite slow, dragging along as she listens with a baited breath. The woman wishes she can just see her son without any more interruptions. The man with gold eyes glances between her boy and the clipboard. He stops as he gathers the rest of his thoughts. While waiting, the green-haired woman takes a deep breath to relax. Finally, the doctor opens his mouth to finish explaining her son's condition. "His arms—I don't know how he even sustained that amount of damage in them. It seems that while they healed and had kept away any pain, they never healed correctly. Some of his joints were impaled by some bone fragments that his body didn't seem to collect. Every time he would move, he kept hurting himself without realizing it. His ribs have mended themselves on his way here, but there was a tear in his organs—mostly in his heart."

"What? How did he get that?"

"I'm not sure myself. That is something you have to ask him yourself," he says. "He should be awake—hmm—at the earliest, tomorrow. The latest in a week. Any longer then we'll have to check him again."

"Thank you, Doctor. I'll call you if I need anything." She watches him leave before sitting in the chair beside her son. Her hand slips into his, giving a small reassuring squeeze as she whispers sweet nothings, running a hand through his curly hair that he gets from his father.

The room seems to darken, permeating the stench of rot and decay. This is a feeling that she has known for so long, something that she has grown used to all those years. Her gaze travels up towards the cloaked being. "Hell-o, Mi-do-ri-ya In-ko." The being raises a bony hand to push back the cowl, revealing a healthy man with piercing green eyes and a small timid smile. "It has . . . while."

"What are you doing here? Haven't you done enough already?" Tears well in her eyes as she stands. "You've cursed my child to see monstrosities! He was thought of as cursed by the few people he had tried to help! We had to move from our old home because he tried to help! It's all your fault!"

His facial expression darkens as he glares at the woman. "If not for . . . I-zu-ku would still . . . bli-blind."

"I don't care about that! I would've loved him all the same!" She walks closer to the Persona. "I want you gone and nowhere near my son ever again! I want you to leave us alone! He is my son! Not yours! So why do you act like you're his parent!"

"Death su-ggests In-ko—be care-ful." His green eyes glint harshly in the light, grabbing her by the throat. ". . . do not want—to lose I-zu-ku, no?"

Inko doesn't get the chance to respond as he disappears in a cloud of golden smoke. She huffs and stomps her foot. She walks over to her son, grabbing his hand again and resting her head against the bed. The middle-aged woman murmurs to herself, trying to reassure herself that her son is okay and that Death won't take him away. Her son is still her son. He hasn't died yet—she will soon learn she's wrong. She looks up when she feels his hand move. Her gaze resting on his face as he slowly opens his eyes. Pale. Foggy. Blind. No. Not her baby. It can't—no. It can't be!

"You're not him," she whispers, quickly earning his attention.

His eyebrows furrow at the same time he squeezes her hand slightly only for her to rip away her hand as if he had burned her. "M-Mom?" he questions, not liking the tone in her voice: shaky, disbelief, and horror paint a picture. "Mom? What's wrong? You—"