Crimson Storms // A Hiroto Amamiya Fiction

Chapter Nine: Saving Grace

• Hiroto Amamiya •

   The rain poured outside, creating a symphony of droplets against the windowpane. Masaki's rhythmic chopping could be heard from the kitchen, while the soft hum of the television provided a subtle backdrop.

"Hiroto," Masaki's voice echoed through the kitchen, his hands resting on his hips in a familiar scolding stance. "Didn't I tell you to buy soy sauce this morning?"

I shrugged nonchalantly. "I'll get it tomorrow."

"What do you mean tomorrow? I'm cooking dinner now," he emphasized, his frustration evident.

"I can't go out in this pouring rain, Aniki," I groaned, trying to avoid the task.

"Afraid of a little water, huh? Fine, little boy, I'll go get it myself," Masaki said, starting to remove his apron. However, his comment pricked my pride, compelling me to take charge. Pushing him aside, I made up my mind to retrieve the soy sauce myself.

Opening the door, the thunderous roar of the storm filled the air, accompanied by the unexpected weight that fell into my arms. A lifeless, cold, and bloodied body dropped into my embrace, stealing my breath away.

Masaki let out a shocked yell, his eyes fixed on the sight before us. "What... what is that?!"

Raising the face, covered in dark, tangled hair, I revealed the delicate features of Nakamura Suki.

"What the..." I held her gently, carrying her in my arms and placing her on the living room couch.

She was trembling, pale, drenched from the rain, and covered in bloodstains. The sight made my stomach churn and a thousand questions raced through my mind. But for now, my priority was to help her, to fix what I could before finding out what had happened.

"Is that Suki?" Masaki asked, quickly locking the door and joining me. "What happened to her?"

"I don't know, Aniki," I replied, rushing to my room. I grabbed the blankets from my bed and covered her shivering body. "Where's the first aid kit?"

"In the bathroom," Masaki replied. Without wasting a moment, I retrieved the first aid kit and knelt beside her unconscious form, searching for the source of the bloodstains. Her thin arms and legs had a few bruises, but no visible wounds.

"Aniki, look away," I said, my voice filled with apology.

"What?" Masaki asked, surprised by my request.

"I need to check... under her shirt," I explained, my hands trembling. It wasn't something I wanted to do, but I had to ensure her well-being. It was uncomfortable for both of us.

My brother was too stunned to respond, but he turned his gaze away as I carefully lifted her shirt. I examined her pale stomach, lifting it further to see her back. There were no visible injuries, only her black sports bra. I lowered her shirt, relieved to see no serious wounds.

Forgive me, Suki.

I quickly retrieved some dry clothes from my closet and returned to her side. With great care, I changed her clothes while ensuring she remained covered by the blanket. It was an uncomfortable and challenging task, but I couldn't bear to leave her shivering in her wet garments.

Once she was changed, I carried her to my bed and tucked her in under layers of warm blankets. Her small head sank into my soft pillows, her damp hair leaving wet marks on the pillowcase. Her nose turned pink from the cold, and with each breath, a tiny puff of fog escaped from her lips.

How could something so beautiful be so broken?

As I turned to leave the room, her cold hands suddenly gripped mine, holding on tightly. Startled, my gaze shifted from our joined hands to her face, where tears streamed down her cheeks, catching me off guard.

"Suki?" I called out, my voice filled with concern.

"Takeru-senpai..." she whimpered softly, the sadness in her tone piercing my heart. "...please, don't leave me."

In that moment, I saw a vulnerability in her that was a stark contrast to her usual fierce and defiant demeanor. The girl lying on my bed, with tear-streaked cheeks and a pleading voice, was someone who desperately longed not to be left alone.

And in that exact moment, I knew I had to let her know that she was not alone.