Chapter Text
Yuuji doesn’t remember how long it took for him to be over familiar with the cacophony for it to be a lull. The sounds come and go like radio signals, sometimes scraping and hoisting Yuuji awake, sometimes dead silent and letting Yuuji sleep, if not, buzzing quietly beside him, inside him. This time though, none of them fits the sound that pulls him out of his slumber.
It’s that sound again, quaint yet feels like home. Like doom.
Yuuji sighs, bracing himself for the misfortune he will soon bring forth.
After Yuuji trespasses the boundaries between the material and spiritual realms, it’s the stairs of a normal two-storied house of a normal family that Yuuji walks on. No footstep can be heard as he scans the humble abode, wondering what went wrong.
When Yuuji reaches the source of the ringing note, a young man sitting in his own pool of blood awaits. His wrist is incised by haphazard laceration, spilling out red onto his bed while other hints of self-abhorrence are also observed, scarcely hidden under his blood-dyed clothes. Purple veins visible under pallid complexion, cheekbones prominent, his hair caked and tousled. What truly triggers Yuuji though, is that same onyx soul and visage that render a god to succumb to the mortal guise, till now, twice. This man was Getou Suguru, and even if in this life he isn’t named so, Yuuji knows this man is undoubtedly Getou Suguru.
Only such a soul can discard the lives of others and his that way. It will never be eliminated wholly, this accurst life of his. It will live as a concept, a belief, a curse. And inexplicably, Yuuji isn’t happy about this new knowledge.
“Did you miss me?” is the very first greeting from the human.
In whatever life, Getou Suguru is still as obnoxious as ever.
“Even with the veil on, I can see you pouting.”
Yuuji is, again, unhappy.
“And I can tell you are wondering why I am doing this.” Getou’s supposedly pompous smile only looks feeble. He just never learns that his facade can never succeed in dissimulating his true self. “Life of a monkey is worthless.”
So he’s a non-sorcerer now. It liberates him from the insanity that comes with overwhelming responsibilities but stifles him just the same. He doesn’t have reasons to justify his prejudice and brutalism anymore, but as Getou Suguru is himself, he will always choose annihilation. He is the man who will go to the furthest extent of massacre to fulfill his ideals. And many humans share that same obstinate mentality.
Humans will suffer, foremost from their own causes. No matter how many of them Yuuji observes, he can’t bring himself to understand them.
The sound is still ringing. About half an hour left to call an ambulance or visit the nearest pharmacy to buy gauze before the anemic dizziness hits and unconsciousness takes over. Getou Suguru should grab the phone but instead, he is holding a paring knife.
Like Getou said, humans are weak beings, with their pertinacious adherence to their beliefs, either way, they die with or without them. It’s not Yuuji’s business to tolerate them and their twisted morals; they are only humans. But this time, the god decides not to be a bystander.
“I’ve said it once and I will say it again, Getou Suguru: all of this is meaningless. Your saving, your killing. Death is equal; it’s the man who gives it a meaning.” The human’s blood is oozing out slowly, his breathing faint. “Your comrades sacrificed while protecting their loved ones. You, in this life, what are you dying for? Your obsolete ideal? Your obstinacy alone?”
Getou Suguru displays amazement in a tired manner, back pressed against the wall while being all bloody, intrigued nevertheless. “Are you reprimanding me or interrogating me?”
Fine, Yuuji is pouting. Curse human bodily functions. The man just laughs despite hurting himself while doing so, peeling himself off the bed and trudges towards the god. His hand never abandons the knife.
“I’m not stopping you. It makes no difference to me. But it would to you, to your family, to your loved ones.”
The look on Getou Suguru’s face is eerily similar to the one the human gave him last life. During their conversation, in between the small pauses, Getou would stare at Yuuji for a long moment with an unreadable expression, as if thousands of words meant to be on the tip of his tongue are bereft and cached in his eyes. Yuuji doesn’t pry, he simply waits till the man inevitably breaks the eye contact and directs his gaze woefully somewhere else. A complicated individual, Yuuji has come to realize.
“Perhaps…” Getou Suguru is now standing in front of Yuuji, his height looming, casting shadow on the shorter. The man mutters, pinning his gaze on the god. “Perhaps, it would make a difference.”
The sound is plangent, ringing louder and louder by seconds. Gold orbs never leave onyx ones.
“But that’s only when I could make peace with the reversion of the rights and wrongs of this world, my far-fetched ideals and my incompetence.”
The sound is shrieking, alarmingly aggressive. The knife aims at his guts.
“Until then, goodbye, Yuuji.”