Cure Narrative 63: Désespoir Infini
Season: Hugtto
Character: Henri W.
Summary: If only the prince was saved before fate suffocated him with infinite despair...
He was strong.
The proud Prince on Ice who had all that he could ever ask for, talent, looks, a supportive family, good friends and good competition. He has come so far on this flawlessly successfully path he paved day and night with sweat and falls and sacrifices.
Dead end.
Who'd have thought? The snow white flower falls so silently, gracelessly, and a little too early.
It's over. おしまいだ。
Henri's head is burning, half burning in pain and the other half burning every last drop of his willpower to regain control.
At least, control over his legs.
It's all over. もうおしまいだ。
He can't feel them, and it's laughable now that he once thought the aftereffects of surgical anaesthetics were scary enough.
He sees the white of his breath in the air of winter, but it doesn't sound like white.
A trembling exhale. A shaky rasp. A throaty caw. And, once the pain that simmers in his lower limbs bursts into his throat and his head, a holler in harmony with all the cacophonies performed on the road of a traffic accident.
Not a holler of laments, nor one of agony, it's more senseless, more red, as if he had pointed a finger at the sky and spat at whatever whimsical deities up there leering down at him with amusement and contempt.
They had strung him up like a marionette and cut the string to his legs. He has a tragic third act written out for him and still he accepted it like the docile lamb they wanted him to be.
So why tweak his fate this way? And why now? He had asked for nothing but a sophisticated curtain call, a pretence, just one last deceitful dance. Why, pray tell, is this simple wish robbed from him?
He's been strong for so long, fought for so long, against his identity, his time, against his condition, and still he arose victorious, for what? The only honor he would like to claim is a finale worthy of his story so far.
Aah. But he's sick of this.
When he leaps, they throw him down. When he glides, they cut his string. When he crawls, they crush his leg. He's sick of playing the fool in fate's comedy drama, to struggle and struggle and struggle harder only to have every endeavour thwarted because he was not permitted to see the finale through.
So I'm sorry, Masato.
Wanting to give him new legs? What's the point? Could he go anywhere?
He doesn't want to anymore.
So I'm sorry, Homare.
"This isn't the end!" aren't words he can believe in.
Unlike you, not all stars can plummet from the sky and still shine again.
So take me, darkness.
Would you be my stage? Cut all my strings and dress me in shadows. So freely I dance where no one would see.
"Do you wish to erase the future?"
It was already gone to him in the first place.
"Come with us."
To a bird whose wings are ripped off, to a prince whose domain is conquered, to a skater whose leg is now lamed, to a tireless boy whose strength has run out...
"Welcome to Criasu Corporation."
This is the end.
End of Chapter 63
Some translation:
Désespoir infini: infinite despair
おしまいだ: It's over (pronounced as oshimaida)
もうおしまいだ: It's all over (pronounced as mou oshimaida)
A/N: Hello, sorry for not updating in so long, if you scroll through my account you might realise I've been writing a lot for another fandom haha. And also kind of sorry I posted something like this on Christmas, it's not pre-meditated, I swear, I just don't have any heartwarming fics this year 😅