The Whispers of a Yandere - Chapter 50, Dead!

Sora was enveloped in Ayame’s embrace, his safe haven. His fingers slowly tracing around Ayame’s waist.

Suddenly, Sora murmured, “…I think… I remember everything,” his voice barely above a whisper.

Ayame stiffened, but quickly managed to mask her reaction, her hands resting around his neck, 

“Hmm?” She encouraged with her hum, her tone steady yet Sora could feel her heart racing.

“The memories…. Everything hit like a truck,” Sora’s finger stilled, his touch faltering as he took a shaky breath.

Ayame’s embrace tightened subtly, her fingers threading through his hair in a soothing motion. 

“Take your time, my love,”

she murmured, her voice calm but laced with concern.

“Tell me what you remember.”

Sora’s grip tightened around her waist, “It was my Uncle… He did it–he killed my parents. Right. In. Front. Of. Me.”

His voice cracked as he forced those words out, each syllable heavy with emotion. 

“I–I couldn’t do anything! Nothing! My body refused to move, their blood spilled everywhere, but my body still refused to move. I COULDN’T DO ANYTHING!”

Ayame’s breath hitched at Sora’s outburst, her heart shattering at the raw pain in his voice.

She tightened her embrace, pressing his trembling body against her chest as if her touch could shield him from the torment of his memories.

Sora poured out his pain. The words came fast, tumbling over each other as if he feared they might escape him if he stopped. His body trembled with every memory relieved, his voice breaking under the weight of his sorrow.

—

Eventually, his words began to falter, his voice trailing into silence. He drew in a shaky breath, the silence between them now heavy with unspoken understanding. Ayame’s embrace loosened, her forehead resting gently against his, her presence grounding him.

For some moments, neither of them spoke. Sora clung to her, his uneven breath slowly calming down.

Then, his voice, raw and hesitant, broke the silence, “…Did you know?”

Ayame blinked, startled by the question, “Huh?”

“What my Uncle did,” Sora rephrased, “Did you know?”

Her gaze faltered, a shadow crossing her expression. “…I–Yes. Well, not exactly. But I had him on my list of suspects.”

She continued, “In all honesty, I wanted to hurt him. By hurt, I mean-”

“Kill?” Sora interrupted, his voice cutting through her hesitation like a knife.

Ayame’s breath hitched, and for a moment, she held his gaze. There was no denial in her eyes, only a flicker of something dark and unwavering.

“Yes.”

She admitted, her tone steady yet laced with suppressed killing intent. “If it meant protecting you or avenging what he did to you… I wouldn’t have hesitated.”

“But I didn’t actually proceed because I wanted you to find out who did it, and if you want take your own revenge,”

“Now that you have confirmed your suspicion on him, would you let him go if I decide to forgive him?” Sora asked, his eyes searching hers.

The question hung in the air like a blade.

Ayame’s eyes darkened, and she looked away, unable to meet his gaze. Her hands fell to her sides, her silence betraying the answer she couldn’t bring herself to say.

After some moments, she slowly turned her gaze towards him again, her eyes still having a glint of darkness, “No, I will not. He will die, no matter what. I love you more than anything else, even that is an understatement to my feelings. Anything that hurts you… Will die in the most twisted way possible,”

Sora stared at Ayame, her words hanging in the air, heavy with unspoken commitment and love.

He reached up, cupping her face softly, “Thank you, Ayame,” he whispered, his sudden gratitude caught her off-guard.

“I have a request, Ayame. I don’t know how this will affect the image you have of me, but I need this,” Sora continued.

“Anything, you can ask for anything, don’t hesitate,” Ayame couldn’t help but smile with joy, her Sora was finally asking for something!

“I want my Uncle dead. Like you said, I want it in the most horrible way possible. But first, he should beg for it, I want to hear his screams,” Sora’s demeanor changed into something dark, his words unbefitting of his usual self.