Akira

Dahlia went to get groceries so I'm stuck with Ethan. I walk up to the fridge, feeling for water.

"Butcher—"

"You will call me anything but a child of god won't you," I remark.

"Where the hell did you get that from?"

I shrug. "Dahlia. Dahlia says she has negro thoughts and she's tired of holding them back."

"Okay, don't say that anymore," Ethan says with a sigh. "Listen I was looking at the bottle which, yknow, you can't do anymore and they said this blindness can be permanent."

I shrug, cutting the top the water off with my sword. "And?"

"...And? And? I—every day I fear you're losing your mind, Akira!"

I clench my jaw. Maybe he's right. I turn around. "I've got it under control."

He grabs my shoulder. "No...I'm sorry but I don't think you do, Akira."

I close my eyes. "You don't understand! I need her! I can do without my sight but I can't do without her. And I don't want her to despise me or else I'd just take her. But I..."

He's silent for a moment. I sigh.

"Dahlia is more than a woman to me, Ethan. I..."

"You're never going to get over this will you?" Ethan asks eventually. "You're still there, aren't you? Alone and abandoned. And she's all you have."

I sniff, frowning. "I'll let go eventually. I'm sure if it I just..."

"Oh Akira. You're a liar."

• • •

Dahlia comes home. I stand, taking the bags from her hand. I set them on the table with ease.

"Did you and Ethan have fun."

Ethan rues the pills. He says he can't get them for me anymore in good conscious. I could...arrange to have them back. I sigh. But do I want to keep up this charade?

"Dahlia let me ask you something," I say softly, hearing her come up to me.

"Yes?"

"What do you think of staying in Japan?"

She shifts. I hear the sound of her hands rubbing together. My brow creases.

"I think..." she paused. "It's time for dinner."

She stands. So I do. I heave a sigh. I didn't want it to come to this, really.

"Akira?"

"You will be staying in Japan with me, Dahlia. Where you belong."

She brushes past me. I listen to her toes. Further and further. Her hand touches the knob. She turns it. I draw my sword, letting it leave my hands, lifting my head.

"Let's not act irrationally, Dahlia. You know how much I adore you. I wouldn't hurt you."

"And yet here's my hand. And there's your sword," she says softly. I hear her attempting to pull my sword out of the wood.

She gives up eventually letting out a frustrated breath. I hang my head. I am ashamed. Still, this is all I have for now.

Maybe he's not wrong. I am still there. I need her. Desperately.

"What do you expect," she whispers. I collapse on the floor, sighing, pulling my leg up leaning against my knee.

"I don't know."

Her feet patted surely as she sinks to her knees in front of me, hands roaming me face gently. Her fingertips brush my lashes. I open my eyes.

I can't see her. By my vision is full of light. And I know it is because she is in front of me. It is all I can do to hang on to it. To this light.

Her fingertips smell of flowers and the blood she's spilled trying to grab my sword. I shake my head.

"I knew. On some level that if I came here you'd never let me go. I saw it...in the way you looked at me." She whispers.

Is she resigning herself to such a pitiful state so soon? And does it make me angry?

I feel her warm breath on lips. Her touch is still gentle. She is heaven sent, after all. Forgiving even if the worst of sins.

"Are we still friends?" I whisper.

"Were we ever truly friends?"