oh

All was still in the house of Okuma, not a stir, not a mouse, not a squeak nor a peep. The would-be samurai ever continued in his endeavors to repair the broken relationship with the love of his life, but to all avail, nothing worked. Nothing would ever work, nothing that Okuma could do or say would help alleviate the pain he stilled into the heart of Kimiko Himura, and for that, he could not forgive himself. It had been too long since that day, the day he broke the girl into a million pieces, and ever since that day his condition worsened and worsened over time, those dark thoughts of offing himself returned once again, a mindset he last found himself in high school, seven years ago. There was perhaps a moment in time where he did not have such thoughts, during his tour at Mirai Academy and the first few months within the Arcane, and a new life he hoped for in the Arcane was nothing but disorder, chaos and constant backlash. The depressed man couldn’t take it anymore. Even after meeting countless people in the city, such as Suzushina, or Luella, who both attempted to help him in his situation, made futile attempts to crack at that hard shell he produced so easily, shoving people out of his life. He had a funny way of doing that, leaving people and exiting their lives. After that short and rather hostile encounter with Suzushina, he knew he wouldn’t see that girl anymore. It didn’t bother him in the slightest, he barely knew the girl save for her similar tendencies that he shared with, but after she bailed? It seemed as if a weight lifted off his shoulders, now he hadn’t another woman tugging at his sleeve in his life.
What he needed most was.. Consoling, yet he refused strangers and outsiders, he only wanted those he knew. Rikaze, Asuka, Kimmy, who all seemed so distant ever since they were reunited. Of course, just like strangers whose attempts were shoved into the trashcan when they tried to help Okuma, were much like his own against Kimmy, using everything he could possibly think of to help him and her and nothing worked, the recent news of a Ball being hosted within Avia seemed enticing to him, but after a long thought, would she even go? Would Kimmy even say yes to that? The answer was no, or at least he thought so. He decided that since she hated the man with all of her might, it would be unwise for him to ask such a silly question, to ask her to the dance. And it was at this point did he realized that there was no way out of this, Okuma could not figure it out. The two women in his life would lead to his inevitable death. Knowing he would have to pick one or the other, and ultimately crush the one he did not pick? It was too much for his mind to bear, and selecting neither of them would eventually prove unwise as well, for he needed a dynamic in his life that kept his depression and sadness at bay. Alcohol was not that dynamic.
Okuma found himself sitting at his kitchen table, the darkness of the night shadowing his apartment as he sat in total darkness, his hands encompassing a pistol he purchased with what Credits he saved up from work, and a small loose-leaf paper beside him, a pencil on top. Golden hues shifted over the gun, studying every curve and edge. A thought crossed his mind as he held that gun, knowing that within his palms held the power to end himself was.. Comforting. A permanent solution to a permanent pain. His attention brought itself to the paper, the handwritten note of an explanation to his plans. It read: “Perhaps it’s selfish for me to do this, but I’m sure you’re aware of the pain it caused me and you. I can’t handle it anymore, knowing you’re not the same girl you used to be. I just want the pain to go away, and it won’t. Know that I loved you then, now and forever.” A heavy sigh escaped his lips as he picked himself up from the table, the chair he sat on being tipped over on its back as he stood up.
The man made no effort to pick it up, only grasping the pistol within his digits, slowly slumbering into his bedroom where he comforted himself on his bedside, a flash of what remaining memories he had between the very few friends he ever managed to make. It seemed like forever before the pistol was eventually raised and pressed against his own head, Any last words? Came the familiar voice of a particular inner demon, who probably had a part in his major depression. “Fuck you.” Whispered Okuma, his tone faint and weak. Then a sudden click, a flash of light and a thud.