AN: I might've gone a bit too far with this story. But all I really wanted to do was create something with a heavier atmosphere, so I didn't worry about canonisms all that much (even if think what I wrote is still passable). I want to do a pure story-related fic at some point, but I'll hold off until the final episode comes out. Speaking of episodes, 7 blew my mind 'cross the galaxy and back. I'm so glad they managed to piece together the story so well, and I hope the final episode will wrap everything up nicely.

It's a good day to be a Black Rock Shooter fan.

The pair of scissors reluctantly made its way through the dense fabric. The resistance reflected the mood of its owner, the person who quietly sat on the floor and turned clothes into useless strips. It was very comforting, working methodically in the putrescent silence. So different from before, when the air had either been filled with threatening whispers or persistent shouting. The emptiness that came with the silence left a void, a hole that was interestingly easy to replicate. So that was what Yomi Takanashi did. She made more holes.

She had run out of things surprisingly soon. Almost every piece of clothing she owned except for the ones she wore were now confetti, happily strewn across the floor. Her bed was a down-covered mess, and the curtains had gotten a modern makeover and no longer served their purpose. As Yomi sat on the floor, squirming with discomfort, she wondered if she should be venturing around her house for other things to ruin. But cozy lethargy filled her limbs with syrup, and she lazily started cutting into her own hair again. It wasn't very satisfactory, she was already useless and could hardly be damaged further. But it gave Yomi something to do, and more and more locks of silky hair fell and disappeared against the dark floor.

Suddenly, an intrusive sound broke the accursed silence. It was the doorbell, a high-pitched pleading that Yomi had no intent of answering. She stayed where she was, struggling with the blunt, dirty pair of scissors. It, together with the monotone noise and her uncomfortable position, frustrated her. She didn't deserve this, and it was no wonder she took it out on everything else. It was perfectly justified, something she hadn't managed to explain to her mother.

The doorbell went silent, but only to be replaced by the sound of a door opening. Inside Yomi's dulled mind, a flame of hope flickered. Maybe, just maybe, the person walking up the stairs was the one who could fill the hole in the girl's soul. She suddenly felt embarrassed about her disheveled state, and she pointlessly tried to make something acceptable out of what had once been her hair. She shuffled back, cringing as the sickly liquid caressed her legs. It was really quite disgusting, just like her, and she felt shame. Not because of what she had done, that was very much justified, but because a pure and innocent girl like Mato shouldn't be seeing these sorts of things.

In the end, that proved to be a nonissue. Because the person who discovered Yomi sitting in an amorphous puddle of blood wasn't Mato, but Kagari. Yomi's mother looked as pathetic in death as she had in life, and Kagari found that her instinctive reaction was fascination at the countless puncture wounds that had been inflicted on the woman. She wasn't even surprised, as the sickening smell that rose from the corpse had given the scene away the second Kagari entered the house. Yomi put down the murder weapon, a bloodied pair of scissors, and the hopelessness seen in her red-speckled face was more upsetting to Kagari than the dead body.

"I thought you were someone else." The dark-haired girl whispered in a casual tone, and even if Kagari had gotten over her obsession, the thick coat of disappointment in Yomi's voice still hurt. Kagari felt uneasy, a feeling still somewhat new to her, when took the few steps into Yomi's room. Only a faint nausea poked her stomach, completely ignorable.

"I came to see how you were doing."

"I'm fine," came the fully mechanical and laughable lie. Kagari took a good look at her friend, noting the unhealthily pale cheeks on which rubies of blood shimmered, the ruffled and uneven mess of hair, the look of accepted despair. After what had happened at school, this situation was expected. The homicide was a bit novel, but it wasn't like it mattered anymore. Not to Kagari, and seemingly not to Yomi.

"Why did you kill her?"

"It helped. Ruining things help." Yomi didn't want Kagari here. The words of rejection burned inside her empty self, the smoke from the flames forming hatred. She shouldn't have to explain herself to this girl. Kagari apparently shared this opinion, as she didn't pursue the matter and instead asked a new question.

"Is there anything I can do?" It sounded reluctant, forced, but the offer was sincere. Kagari still cared for Yomi as a friend, so wanting to help was only natural. The disheveled girl's gaze strayed about the ravaged room, finally landing on her phone that lay cold and quiet on the floor. No texts, not even a word of worry. The sight made Yomi's head hurt, and her fingers twitched, wanting something to rip and rend. An idea then struck her, a logical suggestion that overshadowed the pulsating pain and the sense of futility. She gave Kagari a transparent smile.

"Can I ruin you?"

The question made Kagari shiver as she imagined the blunt pair of scissors plunging into her body over and over again. But the request wasn't met with disgust or even aversion. Kagari knew exactly what Yomi needed, who she needed. She could probably go and get Mato, but with the dead mother here, and with Yomi like this, wouldn't that do more harm than good? On the other hand, she couldn't just do nothing. Leaving Yomi in this state was not an opinion.

"Do you want to hurt me?"

"I understand now." Yomi mumbled, her blackened fingers tracing the heart-shaped scar on her chest. "This helped you, didn't it? When you were still...?"

"I'm sorry." Kagari said, and she was. The way she had taken advantage of Yomi's guilt was unforgivable, hurting her even more so. But even then, there was a misplaced sense of pride at the sight of the scar. Yomi belonged to her, and Kagari still had so much control over the broken girl, just in a different way. The sense of power was intoxicating, and she found herself slipping and sliding down a very dangerous path. "I won't let you kill me."

"I won't, I promise. Just let me do what you did to me..." Neither of them knew if it was a plea or an order, but Kagari knew that she couldn't refuse. She should've been scared, but all she felt was a decadent excitement mixed up with conscientious shame. Now it was Yomi who was dependent on her, not the other way around, and even if there were no signs of the obsessive emotions she once had, new and even stranger feelings were bearing their wonderfully sharp fangs.

"Yomi..."

"Please...it hurts..." The emotionless mask split open, leaving two tears rolling down Yomi's cheek.

"Calm down. I'll help you." Well, thought Kagari, isn't it only fair? She stepped over the body and held out her hand. Yomi took it, and her own hand was rough with caked blood.

"T-thank you." Yomi looked so miserable as she struggled to get up on her feet with a little help from Kagari. She held the pair of scissors with a desperation that made the other girl a tad worried. No, she told herself. Yomi is not a killer. Her mother must've been a mistake. At least initially.

The two made their way out of the abominable room, Kagari supporting Yomi. The house was as dark as the events that had transpired in it, and Kagari was extra careful going down the flight of stairs where she had fell with only the worst of intentions. Maybe she thought she deserved this, to a degree. She had hurt Yomi to feel better, now Yomi would do the same with her. Justice.

They ended up in the kitchen, where Kagari dropped Yomi off on a chair while battling a tornado of emotions. It was as if bits of her old feelings were mixing in with her new mindset, and she couldn't tell if Yomi's dulled state made her feel sorry for her friend, or happy for herself. She didn't feel any desire for Yomi as a person this time around. Instead, Kagari reveled in the fact that Yomi needed her, even for such a destructive reason. All and all, there were no convincing arguments against helping Yomi. That's why, when the dark-haired girl put down the bloodied scissors and asked for a knife, Kagari kindly went to fetch one. She carefully handed a chef knife over to Yomi, who looked at it almost eagerly. Once again, Kagari felt in a drop of worry in a sea of excitement.

"Why are you letting me do this?" The broken girl whispered, turning the knife over in her hand.

"If you don't do it to me, you will do it to yourself." Simple reasoning. Yomi stared emptily at her friend, knowing that the words were true. Her hair was proof, the first step towards rending herself permanently useless. She would've died there, right beside her mother. Kagari wanted to save her. Kagari wanted to sacrifice herself for her.

Yomi stood up and wrapped her arms around her blonde friend. It was a painfully tight hug, one that reeked of sweat and death. But Kagari returned it dutifully, comforting the quivering girl. The blonde almost felt disappointed, expecting tears and maybe an apology.

"Undress." Yomi breathed in her ear, and any disappointment was vaporized by the furious heat that shot through Kagari's body. The command was an inside joke, a reference, borderline mockery. But the girl calmed down, reminding herself this was all according to her punishment. Switched roles. If this had taken place before the "accident", Kagari would've melted compliantly into Yomi's arms and followed the instruction with forbidden ardor. But as things were, she shared Yomi's past embarrassment as she left herself with only a bra covering her upper body.

Looked at her blushing friend with disinterest, Yomi let the light in the room play with the edge of the knife. Her hand touched the raised edges of the heart imprinted on her chest, and imagined it to be the black hole that threatened to bend her being apart. She would replicate that, not only because it was fitting, but as a sign of appreciation. Yomi cursed herself for not realizing how important Kagari was earlier, and her desperation clung to the only solid object the had. She couldn't let Kagari go, or she would die. She didn't want to die. Kagari didn't want her to die.

Yomi didn't so much as tremble as she let the tip of knife pierce Kagari's pale skin. A single drop of blood rested innocently on the metal edge, and Kagari was convinced Yomi would make one simple thrust and "ruin" her for good. The cold tip sent chills through Kagari; the fear and excitement made her light-headed and mingled with her simmering anger to create an esoteric pleasure. Then the tip moved, and for a second, the pain overrode any other sensory input. The girl's golden eyes went wide as the blade moved slowly and harshly, carving rather than cutting. Her breath became erratic, matching the unpredictable rhythm of the knife.

Hot streams of red began trickling down Kagari's body. The initial shock had subsided, but the delicious pain remained, engraved in the shape of an upside-down heart. Unoriginal perhaps, but nothing Kagari faulted her friend for as she twitched helplessly from the boiling mixture of pain and pleasure that churned inside of her.

Suddenly, a startlingly live wetness came in contact with her stomach. Kagari snapped out of her blissfully torturous trance, and what she saw made her real heart throb more than the bleeding one. Yomi had taken a break from her methodical carving, and was in the process of stopping one of the dark red rills that had gotten down to Kagari's stomach with her tongue. Strangely enough, this halted the flow of excitement pouring through the girl and replaced it with uncertainty. She didn't know how to react, but knew she was supposed to have some form of reaction. Her hearts, both real and carved, ached and seared.

Unaware of her friend's mental struggles, Yomi continued upwards and the tip of her tongue followed the trail of blood up Kagari's stomach and her ribs, past her breasts and up to its point of origin. With that done, Yomi licked her lips and turned the kitchen knife over in her hand. She no longer had an emotionless way about her, and her green eyes were aglow with wanting, yearning, an alien hunger that made chills travel down Kagari's spine. With good reason, as the Yomi who wasn't Yomi put the glimmering knife against her neck.

"I could kill you right now." She pointed out nonchalantly, a small detail in a bigger picture. Kagari couldn't stop shaking, couldn't help the tears that fell. And even then, she liked this, loved it. The imminent death made her feel alive. As if she wasn't messed up enough already. "But I won't."

"Y-Yomi..."

"Though..." The greedy, parodic version of Yomi whispered, letting her instrument wander over Kagari's chest. It found the unfinished shape, and resumed its work. Yomi was rougher now, the knife cut deeper and Kagari groaned with pain. "I could make you actually paralyzed. Would you like that? I could take care of you, just like before. You'd depend solely on me. We would be together, just the two of us..."

She doesn't want me. Kagari thought through a haze of hurt. She just wants someone, anyone. She doesn't have any feelings for me. None.

"H-hey, wouldn't that be nice? Huh, Kagari!'?" Yomi's eyes shone with a sorrow twisted by her wide grin. She cut a bit deeper, wanting nothing more than to push the knife all the way into the girl's chest, wanting to ruin her for good. But she knew she needed Kagari alive.

"Yomi, p-please...stop..." She deserved this. Whatever Yomi did to her, she deserved it.

"Don't you want to be with me!'?" The scream was shrill and as brittle as glass. Yomi cast the knife aside, and it hit the floor with an awful rattling, scattering droplets of blood as it bounced. Yomi pressed her fingertips against the fresh wound, and Kagari's mind went blank. It was as if Yomi was trying to pry her open to get to her real heart. Fear, anguish, pleasure, hatred, love, they were all one seething mass as Yomi clawed at her chest, ripping off pieces of skin and causing more blood to spill out. The pain was unbearable, and it was stripping Kagari of what little sanity she had left.

Suddenly, Yomi's eyes went wide. Her legs folded and she fell to the floor, slumping down like a puppet with its strings cut. She curled up into a ball, quivering and mumbling, frantically trying to wipe her bloody face with even bloodier hands, and then proceed to look at said hands with terror, as if she had finally realized what that dark substance was. The girl started crying, and it was quiet tears that rolled down her cheeks. Quiet, because Yomi was too terrified to scream.

Kagari stumbled backwards, free from the voluntary torture. She grabbed her discarded clothes and held them against her chest to stop the blood flow, which by itself hurt enough to send another flash of white through her head. Her mind was a jumbled mess, but even now, all she could focus on was Yomi's pitiful whimpers. She kneeled down on unsteady legs, reaching out for her friend, despite everything. But Yomi flinched and crawled out of Kagari's reach, coughing and sniffling inaudible words.

"Yomi, w-what is it?" Kagari asked, her voice still not entirely reliable. She ignored her own pain, the pain she deserved and had wanted, to deal with Yomi's. She held up her hands in a peaceful gesture, but Yomi stared at her as if she'd been a plague victim. Or rather, she was staring at Kagari's chest, where a damp red was already seeping through the fabric of her clothes.

"It d-d-doesn't...it...did I...?"

"What are you talking about?"

Amber eyes met green, and Kagari saw pure misery consuming Yomi. The unnatural hunger was gone, and all that remained was the sneaking suspicion that she had done something she would never forgive herself for. It was a radical change, but Kagari had experienced the exact same thing, and felt sad knowing what was in store for her friend. Even sadder were the hesitant, hopeful words Yomi spoke, cruelly clashing with the sinking feeling in her stomach.

"It d-doesn't...hurt. It doesn't hurt anymore."