Yumi Of Death

The silence between Yumi and me felt suffocating as we walked toward the apartment. Her usual calm demeanor had dissolved, leaving behind a cold, simmering rage. Her eyes, once a peaceful blue-black, had turned a deep, bloodshot red, like smoldering embers. Each step she took seemed to echo, thudding heavily in my chest as though the weight of the world rested on her shoulders.

By the time we reached the door, her presence was an oppressive storm, and I could feel the air shift. Every movement she made, every breath she took seemed to make the room around us grow colder. I opened my mouth to say something, but the words stuck in my throat. There was nothing I could say that would make any difference.

The door creaked open, and the stench hit me like a slap. The sour, pungent odor of rotting garbage filled the air, mixed with the stale scent of beer and something far more disturbing—sickly sweet, almost like decaying flowers. My stomach churned, but I forced myself to step inside, my feet heavy as if unwilling to follow.

---

The man who had ruined Keiko's life sat in the corner, slouched on a torn, stained couch. The room was a filthy mess, old food wrappers, broken furniture, and empty bottles scattered everywhere. His greasy hair clung to his forehead, his eyes bloodshot and barely focused. As soon as we entered, his gaze snapped to us, flicking back and forth like a nervous animal.

"What the hell do you want?" His voice slurred, tinged with a mix of irritation and alcohol.

Yumi didn't flinch. She stepped forward, her expression icy, her red eyes glowing faintly in the dim light. "Do you remember Keiko?" Her voice was calm, but there was an undeniable venom hidden beneath the surface.

At the mention of her name, the janitor's face twitched, a fleeting flash of guilt crossing his features, but it vanished almost as soon as it appeared. He straightened up, his lip curling into a sneer. "I don't know what you're talking about," he muttered, taking another swig from his bottle, his voice shaky but filled with bravado.

Yumi's eyes narrowed, her voice dropping lower, a quiet but seething tone that could melt the ice of the coldest winter night. "Keiko. The girl you broke. The girl you discarded like trash."

The bottle slipped from his hand, crashing against the floor, glass shards scattering. He froze for a moment, panic flashing in his eyes before he covered it with a laugh, though it trembled. "I didn't mean to," he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't mean to hurt her! It was an accident, a mistake—"

Yumi's gaze never wavered, and she spoke softly, almost too softly. "You didn't mean to? You *hurt* her, twisted her, and then tossed her aside like nothing. That's what you did."

The janitor's eyes darted to the floor, and for a brief moment, his expression faltered. But then his eyes glinted with defiance as he rose, raising his hands in mock surrender. "Listen, I'll go to the police. I'll confess everything. Just—just leave me alone."

It was then that I noticed something glinting in his hand—a jagged shard of broken glass, catching the dim light. Before I could react, he lunged at Yumi.

"Yumi!" I screamed, instinct kicking in as I threw myself between them, my body moving without thought. The shard plunged into my stomach with sickening force.

---

Pain exploded through me, white-hot and blinding. I gasped, collapsing to the ground. Blood spilled from my wound, pooling beneath me, warm and sticky, seeping through my clothes. My vision blurred as my body fought against the torrent of pain, but I couldn't stop it.

Yumi's face twisted in shock, her black eyes wide in disbelief. For the first time since I met her, there was something in her gaze that I couldn't place—fear. Her hands trembled as she knelt beside me, her voice barely a whisper. "Why?" she asked, her usual calmness shattered. "Why would you do this?"

I tried to force a smile, my breath shallow and labored. Blood dripped from my lips as I spoke, each word heavy with effort. "I don't know," I whispered, the pain almost suffocating. "You're... Yumi. I couldn't let him hurt you."

Her hands pressed against my wound, her touch warm, but her face was stricken with guilt and panic. "You idiot," she murmured, her voice cracking. "You know I can't die. Why would you—"

"Because I couldn't just stand there," I interrupted weakly, my vision flickering. "I couldn't be useless. Not again. I couldn't just watch."

---

The janitor, drunk on his own malice, continued to laugh, his voice low and mocking. "You're pathetic," he sneered, stepping closer to us. "You're just like every other woman. Born to be broken, born to be used. Keiko? She was nothing but a toy. A warm body for me to play with. And you... You're no different."

Yumi's hands shook, her grip tightening as the air around her grew dense with darkness. The temperature plummeted, and the shadows in the room began to twist and writhe like living creatures. Her eyes glowed, her expression emotionless as she raised a hand, summoning her scythe. The blade gleamed with a deadly promise.

"You think you've seen fear?" she asked, her voice void of empathy. "Let me show you what real pain is." For if an eye for an eye then it's death for a death.

The shadows snapped to life, wrapping around the janitor's limbs, pulling him into the wall. His screams filled the room as the darkness tore into his flesh, each cut a silent promise of vengeance. He begged, his voice desperate and strained.

"Stop! Please!" he pleaded, his voice hoarse. "I didn't mean to—"

Yumi didn't answer. She drove her scythe into his leg, twisting it with a sickening crunch. His scream echoed off the walls, but Yumi's face remained impassive.

"For every tear she shed," Yumi's voice rang coldly, "you will bleed a thousand times."

She moved with precision, each strike carving deeper into his body, each cut deliberate. Blood spurted from his wounds, staining the floor, the walls, everything. His screams faded into weak, breathless pleas, but Yumi did not relent.

---

The janitor's body began to shift, warping and distorting as something monstrous emerged from the wreckage of his human form. His eyes glowed an unnatural green, his laughter twisting into something otherworldly.

"You think you've won?" the demon sneered, his voice thick with malice. "You're just as twisted as I am. Just as filthy."

The shadows around him exploded, sending me crashing into the wall. Pain radiated through my body, every nerve screaming in agony. The demon's claws reached out for me, and terror rooted me to the spot. I couldn't move, couldn't fight back.

"Run!" Yumi's voice broke through the haze of fear. "Run, damn it!"

"I can't," I whispered, hating myself. "I'm useless. I'm always useless."

The demon lunged, his claws inches from my face, but in that instant, Yumi was there. Her scythe cleaved through him, slicing his demonic form in half with brutal force. The creature let out one last scream before crumbling into ash, the room falling into an eerie silence.

---

As the last remnants of the demon dissolved into nothingness, the room grew still. Then, a soft, ethereal light appeared. Keiko's spirit stood before me, her form frail and delicate, her features tinted with a sadness I could never understand.

She knelt beside me, her eyes filled with gratitude and sorrow. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice a soft, fragile echo. "Thank you for giving me peace."

I reached out toward her, my hand trembling. "Keiko... I'm so sorry. I couldn't save you. I failed you."

She smiled, her expression gentle, forgiving. "You saved me in the end. That's all that matters."

Her form began to fade, the light around her dimming as she took one last look at me. "Tell Hana I love her," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "Tell her I'm sorry. I couldn't... I couldn't protect her."

With that, she was gone, leaving me with a grief so deep it seemed to consume everything. My heart ached, empty and cold, as the weight of everything I had failed to do crushed me.

---

And in that silence, I realized something. I hadn't been useless. I had been part of something. I had saved a soul, even if it was just one. And that would have to be enough.

---

Later, we met Hana at the hospital. She lay on the bed, frail and fragile, her once vibrant energy now dulled by the weight of her illness. The room was dim, the harsh smell of antiseptic filling the air. I could see it in her eyes, the exhaustion, the sadness, the quiet acceptance that no one would be there for her now. Hana had cancer, and no one could help her. No one, except Yumi.

Yumi looked at her with a gentle, almost protective gaze, her usual coldness replaced by something softer. She stepped forward, raising her hand, and I felt the air shift. A warm golden glow enveloped Hana's frail form, and I gasped, unable to comprehend what was happening.

"You..." I whispered, stunned. "You can heal?"

Yumi didn't answer, but the glow around Hana deepened, her body filling with vitality. The sickness, the weakness, the frailty—it all seemed to melt away before my eyes. Hana's breathing steadied, the color returning to her cheeks, her eyes brightening. When the light faded, Hana blinked, looking at herself in confusion.

"What... what happened?" she whispered, her voice trembling.

Yumi didn't say a word. She simply turned and walked away, leaving me standing in stunned silence, my mind struggling to process what I had just witnessed.

---

Later that evening, we found ourselves walking across a bridge that overlooked the city. The sound of the river beneath us filled the air with a serene calm. Yumi balanced on the edge of the bridge's stone wall, her figure light against the twilight, her hair fluttering softly in the wind.

"Why do you do that?" I asked, my voice low, almost afraid of the answer. "Why are you always so scared, so worrued? Even after everything that's happened to me... after I've been cursed, after I've been... changed? I'm half-dead and half-alive, and yet I didn't bleed, didn't get eaten by zombies or yokai. But that stab, Yumi, that still hit me hard. Why?"

Yumi didn't look at me. She just kept walking on the bridge wall, her gaze ahead, lost in thought. As if searching for something I couldn't understand.

Her voice was soft, almost a whisper, as she spoke, her words weighing heavily. "It's not about whether you bleed. You're human, and you... you still feel. Zombies, yokai... they're already dead. But you... you're caught between two worlds, and sometimes... sometimes that's what hurts most. It's not the wound, it's the fact that you still *feel*."

I swallowed, feeling the weight of her words, and I glanced at her reflection in the river, distorted but still clear—her figure shimmering in the water. She looked almost human in that moment, but I couldn't help but remember what she truly was: the Goddess of Death.

Despite her humanity, there was always a dark edge to her. Humanity had become twisted, evil in its pursuit of power, lost in its own selfishness, and I wondered how Yumi, born of death itself, could still hold onto a shred of compassion. Why was she so much more human than the very humans she walked among?

"There's a difference between demons, ghosts, yokai, and zombies," Yumi continued, her voice distant. "Demons are born from darkness, their desires endless. Ghosts are spirits lost, unable to move on. Yokai are the souls of objects and human imagination, and zombies... zombies are souls who couldn't leave their human body, driven only by hunger. But you... you, my friend, you are caught in a place between death and life."

Her words hung in the air, heavy, like an eternal truth. But there was something I couldn't understand. Why did Yumi cursed me to become like this, but I'm to scared to ask...to scared to break her heart...

"Yumi..." I said, voice shaking with a mix of curiosity and frustration. "You're always so energetic with me, so happy, and open... why are you so cold,shy and scared at school? Why do you isolate yourself?"

Yumi stopped walking, her gaze flicking away. She seemed lost, her eyes wandering as though searching for something she couldn't find. Her hand pointed to something in the distance.

"Look," she said softly, breaking the silence. "An ice cream truck."

I squinted, barely able to see it in the end of the bridge. She just smiled, a rare, childlike innocence in her voice. "I want ice cream Kaito-kun buy me!."

"Yumi," I said, voice tinged with both annoyance and cuteness, "don't change the subject."