Tonight, they whispered the cruelest one of all:

The world would be better without you. 

For once, I almost believed them.

The rooftop wind howled around me, cold fingers brushing my skin as if urging me forward. The moon hung white and heavy above the city, and the stars—tiny, trembling lights—seemed to reach for me with hands made of silver.

I raised my arm as if I could touch them.

As if they might pull me away.

As if anything could.

Thirty floors below, traffic hissed and roared. Horns blared. Engines growled. The world kept spinning without me, loud and uncaring.

Only the strong survive.

I was not one of them.

Maybe disappearing would hurt less than trying to keep up.

I stepped to the ledge. My toes curled over the concrete. My breath caught, trapped somewhere between my ribs and regret. The wind whipped my hair behind me, begging me to fall.

“I’m sorry…” I whispered, leaning forward.

A hand shot out and seized my wrist.

“What the hell are you doing?!” a voice screamed.

Ari.

Her fingers dug into my skin, desperate, terrified. My vision blurred with tears.

“Let go, Ari,” I whispered. “Please.”

“No.” Her voice cracked—not with anger, but with fear. “Like hell I’m letting you go. I will never let you go, Reika. You’re my family. My only family.”

Her hand trembled violently.

That was what shattered me.

I had been hurting alone for so long that I’d forgotten someone else could break with me.

Ari yanked me backward, pulling me far from the ledge until my back hit her chest. She clung to me like she thought I would vanish if she loosened her grip even a little.

When she finally turned me around, her eyes were wild and glossy. She grabbed my shoulders, checking every inch of me as if expecting injuries she couldn’t see.

Finding none only made her more furious.

“Why?” she whispered. “Why were you going to do that?”

Her brown eyes were burning—bright flames barely held back. She had always been like that. Fire. Strength. A night sky braided down her back. Lashes dark enough to hold starlight. A smile that could light any room.

Everything I wasn’t.

“I’m weak,” I said. The words broke something inside me on their way out. “To be an Exorcist, we have to be strong. All I ever do is get hurt. All I do is make you worry. You’re strong. You’re fearless. You’re… everything. I’ll never fight beside you. So I thought…” My voice cracked. “Maybe it would be better if someone like me just disappeared.”

Ari’s palm snapped across my cheek.

The sound cracked the air in two.

My breath hitched. Tears spilled hot and fast as my head snapped to the side.

“You are NOT weak,” Ari said, voice shaking like she was clinging to each syllable. “You’re a slow learner. That’s all. We promised we’d fight together. We promised we’d never give up. So why are you giving up on yourself?”

I opened my mouth, but no words came out. Nothing that mattered, anyway.

My mind drifted back—

To when we were seven.

To endless days of training.

To the vow we made to fight back against the evil that stole our families.

To the promise we repeated like a prayer:

Together. Always.

Ari took my hand and held it like it was a lifeline. Maybe it was.

“Come on,” she said quietly. “Let’s get inside.”

We went down the stairwell together. Our building loomed around us—thirty floors of steel, concrete, and secrets. The Black Corps’ headquarters. From the science division to the weapons labs, from the dorms to the training halls… all of it designed to fight back against the demons Diablo had unleashed on the world.

Demons who had taken everything from us once already.

“Reika,” Ari snapped. “Stop spacing out.”

“S-sorry.”

“You said that already.” She let out a heavy sigh. “We’re gonna be late for dinner now… which is your fault, by the way.”

I looked down. “Sorry.”

She groaned but tugged me forward anyway.

When we reached the café, the tables were full and loud. People laughed. Argued. Flirted. Lived.

I stayed quiet.

“Hey, Ari!” a boy called. His messy brown hair fell over his eyes as he grinned her way.

Ari’s face lit up like sunrise when he saw him.

Mine didn’t.

I stepped further into line, staring at the floor as she chatted with him. I could feel their voices brushing against my thoughts. I didn’t want to hear. Didn’t want to listen. Didn’t want to be the shadow beside her light.

When she finally returned, she was still smiling.

“One burger and fries,” she told the server.

“And a drink.”

“And for you?” the server asked me.

“One glass of milk.”

Ari frowned. “That’s it?”

“I’m not hungry.”

We found a small table. Ari devoured her burger with the enthusiasm of someone who had never known hunger or hopelessness.

“You’re not eating again,” she said, watching me trace the rim of my glass.

“I’m really not hungry.”

Silence fell again—thick, uncomfortable, heavy.

Ari broke it first.

“Tomorrow we’re heading on a mission with Eren.”

My heart thudded painfully. Our first mission. Our first real test. Our first fight and maybe our first win.

What if I failed?

What if I froze?

What if Ari died because of me?

I gulped down the milk and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand.

I couldn’t fail her.

That was my first mistake