Time blurred.
The silence that followed Araragi's fall wasn't peaceful. It was suspended. Like the air around us didn't know whether to exhale or hold its breath. His body twitched once, then stilled—pale, drained, no longer entirely alive.
I watched his chest, unsure if it was even rising. It didn't matter.
The deed was done.
And she...
She was still watching me.
Even with her eye closed now. Even half-healed. Even as her body began to remember how to knit itself back together from death, her attention was still tethered to me.
I tried to ignore it. Sat down again, arms crossed over my knees, back against the train platform wall. She didn't speak—not with her mouth, anyway. But I could feel her presence pushing against mine, like I'd invited something in without realizing it.
And maybe I had.
[Kiss-shot's POV – Fragmented, Rebuilding]She dreamed, briefly.
Of spring sunlight.
Of being chased.
Of being hunted down and broken.
Of lying on cold stone with no limbs, no power, no pride.
Of death. Real, final death—at last within reach.
And she had been afraid.
That was the cruelest thing.
She had lived too long. Seen too much. Craved an end for centuries. But when it came close, when death sat beside her like an old friend she didn't recognize...
She begged to live.
And someone heard.
But not just one.
There was a boy. The one who ran, then returned. The one who gave freely.
And then—the other.
The second human. The one who said nothing and gave nothing, yet stayed.
How curious.
How dangerous.
[MC's POV]"Are you awake?" I asked.
No response.
Maybe she was unconscious again. Or maybe just ignoring me. Hard to tell with someone who existed between life and death, between god and ghost.
I stood up slowly, stretching the stiffness from my legs.
Her body was changing.
No longer just a wreck of meat and hair. The color had returned to her face. Her ribs no longer poked out like white fingers. But she still looked fragile. Barely-there.
I didn't know how long her recovery would take. Or what it would cost next.
And she still hadn't looked away from me.
"What are you thinking?" I asked her softly. "About him? About me?"
Still nothing.
I crouched beside her—not too close, just enough to study her face.
"You didn't want to live, did you?"
That made her eye twitch.
"You wanted it to end."
A long pause.
Then, the barest whisper from her lips—so quiet I barely caught it.
"I did."
"Then why—?"
"I was afraid."
She didn't elaborate. She didn't need to. I felt it.
"Everyone's afraid to die," I said.
"Not like I am," she murmured. "I've seen death... and it does not want me."
The air around us chilled.
"I didn't ask for his help," she added, eyes fluttering. "But I accepted it."
"And what about me?" I asked.
Her eye opened. Golden. Dimming. Focused.
"You are not him."
"No."
"You are not my thrall."
"I know."
"I've only had one before," she said. "He left me."
Her voice cracked faintly at that.
"Then maybe you shouldn't take any more," I said.
She gave a soft sound—not quite a laugh, not quite a scoff.
"You assume I want to take you."
I didn't answer.
But I didn't look away either.
She studied me like I was a puzzle she wasn't sure needed solving.
"You know too much," she finally said. "But you give nothing."
"I stayed."
"That is not a gift," she said. "That is curiosity."
She wasn't wrong.
"Then what does that make me?" I asked.
Her lips parted just slightly.
"A witness," she said. "And I hate being seen."
I didn't know what to say to that.
So I said nothing.
I just sat with her in the quiet, next to a boy fading into something inhuman, and next to a woman who wasn't sure if she wanted to live but was sure she didn't want to die alone.
And for now... that was enough.