Chapter Text
Ringing. There’s a high-pitched ringing in Yoichi Isagi’s ears. He grimaces, bringing his hands up to his face, and feels… wet. Sticky. There’s something on his hands. A moment later, the scent of iron hits him. His mind clears, and with open eyes, he sees. In front of him lies a body. It’s been torn apart, abdominal cavity ripped open to expose organ and bone. There’s movement coming from inside. The person is still breathing. And he’s looking at Yoichi with sharp, golden eyes.
His blood is on Yoichi's hands.
The moon outside is full and bright.
---
Moonlight shines in through the barred window, reflecting off of Yoichi’s pale, bruised skin. Something deep within him stirs. “Wake up,” it says, “leave, or else tonight will be your last.”
Gritting his teeth, Yoichi rolls over into the shadows and covers his ears. Ignore it, he thinks, it doesn’t exist. Ignore it.
“Get up.”
The voice is so loud, it’s almost painful.
“Fuck off,” Yoichi hisses under his breath, “This is all your fault, anyway. If you hadn’t done that… If you hadn’t killed…”
“I did nothing. It was all you.”
Instead of trying to respond again, Yoichi simply grits his teeth. There’s no point in trying to reason with this thing. He doesn’t even really know what it is.
His stomach growls. They've kept him in here for nearly a week now. No food, nor water. Not something a regular human could survive. His parents, once, were spoken to by the village chief within earshot of the cell. "Cursed", they had said. "Possessed", even. But by what? His mother was crying. His father did not speak.
"There's nothing to be done. Your son had hid the symptoms for too long. The best minds in the village can't think of any treatment in the stage that he's currently in, and it would be too dangerous to send for a city exorcist and wait for their return. Besides..."
He didn't say it. But Yoichi knows. Ryosuke Kira's family wants blood. Yoichi's blood. Nothing could possibly ease their pain more than his execution. Yoichi knows this, because he... agrees. He didn't hate Kira. He didn't even dislike him. They were friendly acquaintances, kids from the same home town, nothing more. They trained together, and were supposed to eventually grow up and take over as the town watch when they got older. Or, maybe not. Ryosuke had always been much, much more ambitious than Yoichi could have ever hoped to be. Still...
When Yoichi closes his eyes, he can still see his friendly, easygoing smile, and his bright, golden eyes brimming full of life. He can feel Ryosuke's hand, and its warmth, as he's helped up from the ground. He can hear his laugh.
There's a tightness in his chest, and Yoichi feels like he can't breathe properly. Yet, he doesn't shed even a single tear.
"I'm sorry, but we cannot in good consciousness exile him, not when he's already tasted human flesh. Yoichi must be executed. You both know that this is the right thing to do."
---
"Do you feel it, my dear?"
Meguru Bachira stops. He licks the blood from his fingers as he stands up, stepping away from the deer's corpse. The sun is setting, and soon it will be dark. Meguru wipes his hands on his pants, adding new stains to the old fabric. There's something in the air. It's coming from the village. He turns his nose up to the sky and sniffs.
There's sorrow there. Fear. Rage.
"...Someone committed a crime or something? Recently?"
"There's more. Look harder."
Meguru steps onto the dirt road and closes his eyes. He's focusing not only on the smell, but the taste and sounds as well. It's faint, but the flavor of blood that's just beginning to rot hits the back of his throat, making his mouth water.
"It was a murder. The body was buried, but the grave wasn't deep enough."
"...And?"
There's more. Meguru can hear it. More than hear it. The sound isn't being perceived with his ears, but with his very soul. The sound of something clawing at a cage, desperate to get out. A low rumble, a... growl. For the first time in years, Meguru Bachira feels his heart begin to pound as excitement spreads through his body and an uncontrollable grin grows on his face.
"There's a monster in there."
---
Yoichi's eyes widen in shock when he sees a young man, likely around the same age as he is, crouching down by the cell's window. He's never seen this guy before, but his golden eyes glow unnaturally in the darkness. The boy makes a "shhhh" sound and brings his finger to his lips with a wink. Then, in the blink of an eye, the bars are cut. Yoichi didn't even get to see how or why. The boy catches the pieces before they can hit the ground and make any sound, and then offers his free hand to Yoichi. His nails are long, and sharp, and black.
"Come on, I can help you climb out," the boy whispers, the sound of elation riding on the upper tones of his voice, "I think this opening is just big enough to let you squeeze through."
Yoichi takes a step back, away from the window, and the boy's eyes with surprise, smile dropping from his face and hand dropping back onto the window's ledge. There's something about this boy. He's not from the village, Yoichi is certain not only by his looks but also by his smell. He's being too friendly. His eyes are too bright, and it's making the thing in his own brain throb and scratch and gnaw, as if trying to escape Yoichi's body itself.
Yoichi opens his mouth. He hasn't spoken to anyone else since he was brought here. His voice shakes. "...You're not from here."
The worry that had creased the boy's features for a moment relaxes away, and his smile returns. "Nope. I'm just a wandering vagrant, actually." He giggles to himself a little at his self-appointed title, as if he had just made a joke. "I was just passing through, and noticed you."
"Noticed... me?"
The boy nods. "You're like me, aren't you? You have a monster inside you, too?"
Yoichi feels a chill run through his body. His mouth feels dry. "I... suppose so. I... no... it killed someone. It used me to murder."
"Ah. I've heard that can happen to people like us." The boy frowns. "I'm sorry." Yoichi bites his lip. Getting sympathy from some stranger hours before his own death was not something he had anticipated. He turns his gaze to the floor.
"...What's done is done. And I'm not going with you."
"...Even though they're planning on killing you?"
The boy must've seen whatever setup the rest of the village had made in preparation for tomorrow. Yoichi's not sure what the priests think need to be done to rid them of the demon inside of him, but whatever it is must not be very nice, considering the look in the boy's eyes. But Yoichi has already resigned himself.
"Even though they plan on killing me," he says, with more strength and conviction than he thought he had left, "I killed someone. I need to pay the price."
The boy doesn't respond to that. He leans away from the bars and seems to think to himself for a moment. Then, rather abruptly, he stands, and all Yoichi can see are his feet. "I understand," the boy says, "I think it's a bit of a waste, for you to die here, but I understand why you feel the way you do. Still. If you end up changing your mind at any point before the end, just... call for me."
"...Call for you?"
"Bachira. Meguru Bachira. That's my name."
And with that, Bachira leaves. And Yoichi is alone. Again.
The clawing, gnawing, scratching pain in the back of his brain and base of his neck is gone, fading quickly as the distance between the two of them grows, until it vanishes completely.
"If I change my mind..." Yoichi mumbles to himself, and lets his legs give out beneath him. He feels exhausted and hollow. It's the hunger, and the lack of sleep, and the stress of knowing that he's going to die. He hugs himself as his body begins to quake, breaths coming in shallow gasps. Right. He's going to die. He knew this. But saying it out loud himself feels so different. It makes it real. Really real.
"You're scared, boy," the voice taunts, but Yoichi can't find his voice, nor the strength to bite back.
---
Yoichi Isagi doesn't sleep. He sits in the corner of the cell, chewing on his lip until it bleeds, and watches the darkness of night retreat with the slowly crawling arrival of dawn. The sky is a soft, lavender hue beyond the remnants of the bars.
Footsteps echo down the corridor to the cell. Yoichi can barely hear them through the thick wooden door. He takes a deep breath and stands, vision wobbling at the sudden movement. The encounter last night rattled him. But he feels his resolve again. This is how things have to be.
"Even now, it's all about you. Your fears, and your courage. How self-absorbed."
Yoichi doesn't answer. The door is opening, and he's not about to look insane, babbling to himself. He and the guard lock gazes as soon as the door is open wide enough. Yoichi notices the guard's eyes flit nervously over to the window, and the broken bars, but neither acknowledge it.
"Hands behind your back."
Yoichi complies. Rope, adorned with seals, are tied tightly around his wrists. It burns on contact, and Yoichi's vision swims again. His first step is more of a stumble, and he can feel the guard's pity boring holes in the back of his head. Of course, there wouldn't be animosity from every person. It's a sizable village, but nothing like any of the nearby towns. Everyone knows everyone's faces, at the very least. Surely, not everyone could hate him, even now.
He wonders if his mother is still crying for him.
Wordlessly, Yoichi is led out through the corridor, up the stone stairway, and back out into the light. It's still very early in the morning. Looking up in the sky, Yoichi can see the stars, still, just barely trying to shine through the suns growing rays. There's another guard waiting just outside of the isolation ward, and he glares daggers at Yoichi as he's marched through to the shrine behind the village. Yoichi recognizes him as one of Ryosuke's friends.
A small crowd has gathered. Yoichi sees Ryosuke's parents. Mr. Kira cannot look at him. Mrs. Kira is staring at him, as though the power of her gaze alone could kill Yoichi on the spot and bring her own son back to life. Yoichi's own parents aren't here. At the very least, if they are, he doesn't see them. Maybe they're hidden out of plain sight. Maybe they're too ashamed to see him. Maybe... maybe they're also scared.
Yoichi is forced to kneel on the ground, on a smooth rock surrounded by lush grass. A fire is burning, small and controlled, in a stone pit. nearby, smoke rising into the sky that's slowly beginning to turn blue. A sword rests within it, blade glowing orange from the heat, and its hilt wrapped in talismans. The head priest gives Yoichi a look of pity, and then begins chanting.
Looking out into the crowd, Yoichi is met with mixed feelings. Pity, resentment, rage, and grief, all directed towards him, and he feels his body heat up in embarrassment. He turns his eyes to the ground. His parents probably are ashamed of him. He certainly feels shame now. It's nothing like when it had just been him and his thoughts in that cell. And the fucking monster.
"You humans are so foolish. Worried about the most pointless things. You're about to die, you know."
"Don't say it," Yoichi clenches his eyes shut and wills - begs - the voice from the depths of his soul, "Don't remind me. Not now."
"Closing your eyes will not spare you from reality."
He just wishes it would shut the fuck up.
"Isagi."
Yoichi opens his eyes and looks up. Ryosuke's friend is standing before him, glowing blade in hand. Yoichi doesn't know his name. He doesn't know why, but it feels important to remember. Maybe it's because now, face to face, Yoichi can see more than hatred in this man's eyes. He also sees something else. It's like pity, but different. Less derogatory. Is it because he's the one holding the sword? It smells almost like sympathy, but it smells more like burning hot metal. Yoichi wants to ask for this man's name, but his mouth is dry and his throat is closing up.
"If you're scared--"
"I'm sorry, Isagi. For a lot of things. I'm sure you are, too." The blade is raised. It catches in the sunlight, the already red hot metal glinting dangerously. And it suddenly feels real again. "I'll make this quick."
It's real. It's real, it's real, it's real. The blade swishes through the air, and the fear claws it's way back up and out of Yoichi's gut. He screams.
"I DON'T WANT TO DIE!"
"--then fight back."
Something snaps. The ropes. They pop and snap and fall off, and Yoichi brings his arm up to stop the blade. It catches on his arm, cutting deep into the flesh until it hits bone. But it doesn't hurt. Yoichi isn't sure why. There's no blood, because the heat instantly cauterized the wound. The man before him looks stunned, as does the crowd, and the priest.
It feels similar to the first time. Yoichi is seeing everything play out, like in a movie. He can vaguely feel the movements, but he can't control them. His hand lashes out, and catches the guard by the throat. It's taking everything he's got to not crush the man's windpipe.
"...What are you doing."
It's not coming from inside of his head anymore. The voice is coming directly from his own mouth.
"I don't... want to die," Yoichi forces the words out, feeling his vocal chords strain against him, "but that doesn't mean I want to kill anyone, either."
With great effort, Yoichi pries his own fingers open. The guard drops to the ground and scrambles back. Yoichi hears himself scoff, and then sensations start slowly coming back to him. The pain of the burned cut, and of his own throat torn asunder by two distinct voices.
There's a scream, and gasps from the crowd as someone steps forward into the execution stage. Yoichi lets his arms fall to his sides.
"Bachira..."
Meguru Bachira smiles at him. "Changed your mind?" He offers his hand. This time, Yoichi takes it.
Without even waiting for any more confirmation, Bachira takes off running, straight into the woods, dragging Yoichi behind him. Yoichi stumbles at first, but quickly regains his footing. He's both surprised and not surprised at all that he's able to keep up with Bachira's inhuman speed. Shouts and clanging and footsteps follow after them, but the two of them are so, so much faster.
And as the two of them run through the forest, hand in hand, Yoichi feels alive for the first time in a long, long time. The wind in his hair, and the sun on his face. He can't even remember the last time he was awake during the day, in that pathetic little cell. The voices behind them get further and further away, and Yoichi lets out a breathy laugh. He's not sure if it's his own will, or the will of the creature that's holed up within him, but he feels so relieved. Bachira glances back, eyes glinting in the morning sun with a deranged smile on his face.
"See? Living is much better, isn't it?"