Redemption.
“First for a lost love,” she told Komaru, trying not to lose composure in front of her trembling eyes. Her fingers pointing at the very first, vertical line on the top of her left thigh, nails almost grabbing the furrow in the flesh. She could still feel it burning, still could picture dead bodies in her mind, still could feel the overwhelming panic over realizing the existence of wounds she knew or remembered nothing about. “One for missed promises, one for unfulfilled obsessions.” Toko kept talking about Genocider’s murders while trying to fix their brutality with poetry and flowers, an unsure, sorrowful expression on her face. She remembers every single name of those who fell for her uncontrolled bloodthirst ㅡ every single line represented one of those innocent man who were mauled by her merciless scissors. “Have you…ever tried to look at them? I mean, once regained consciousness?” Komaru had to take her time to handle all that info before asking this one question ㅡ that would have marked the limit between humanity and insanity in Toko’s past actions, to her. She tried to remind herself that even with murder being unforgivable, the murderer was still her dear friend undergoing such a painful experience she couldn’t do much about by herself. “Of course I did,” Toko answered, voice reduced to a little whimper, “they were horrid. Their life still battling to make a final sprint and remain in their massacred bodies, eyes wide open looking at my dumb face who would always wake up with no fucking clue of where I was, and why I had their filthy blood on my hands.” Toko was visibly stuttering; she still wasn’t used to empty her heart like that and it really sounded like ripping her chest open in real life. She indeed had a life worth of trauma. “So i started inflicting these to myself and you know what… O-omaru… that’s the way I want them to haunt me,” she continued, “with constant pain on my body, scars burning on my flesh, forever reminding me of their names everytime I look at my disgusting self. I’m a writer and so I-I w-wrote about them in a way, right…? If it doesn’t make me hate myself more, it makes me kind of stronger.” Komaru could feel these words filling her ears with both hope and despair. Toko Fukawa was the epitome of redemptionㅡ the image of being reborn out of deep, dark sorrow; and while all she could was taking her friend’s hands away from those hideous scars, she saw a huge, unstoppable need of redeeming herself. And not so much she could do, but love her even more, and as she did so, she swore to protect this process, and keep her alive.
ㅡ
⚠️ to fully enjoy and understand the story, please make sure to check out toko’s backstory!!!
hello yes. i wrote this little storytime on instagram while having a breakdown, this is the bettered and revised version. truth is: i’m suffering. a lot, lately. those who know me have a little clue about how much of a toko kin my depressed ass is and if there’s anything i agree with her more, is that in times of suffering, writings and poetry flourish the most. so i poured all my heart in this little toukomaru episode, where toko really opens her heart and does what i should be doing instead, which i’m, uhm, kinda not. anyway i’m not the ultimate writing prodigy so take this as a little copying mechanism and nothing more ㅡ i’m not aiming to much anyway. i just don’t want my thoughts to remain silent. sharing is, almost everytime, the answer.
full disclosure: this is about toko trying to free herself from the guilt of her alternate personality’s murder, which she couldn’t control. having found komaru plays a huge part in her try to better herself and overcome her past demons. enjoy :)
Reblogging cause I might have started writing again! ♡
