Work Text:
The skies above Inazuma were tumultuous, crackling with a furious storm that reflected the chaos brewing in Scaramouche's heart. Lightning cut through the dark clouds, and the rain fell in torrents, as if the heavens themselves wept for the battle below.
On the edge of the cliff, where the earth crumbled away into the raging sea, stood two figures, drenched but unmoving, their gazes locked in a silent war. Scaramouche’s violet eyes glinted with an emotion too complex to name—betrayal, fury, desperation—while Chuuya’s cold, steel-blue gaze remained unreadable, yet his clenched fists betrayed his inner turmoil.
"Why did you come here?" Scaramouche’s voice was a low hiss, barely audible over the crashing waves below.
Chuuya didn’t answer immediately. He was drenched, his signature hat missing, carried away by the wind like the remnants of a past he could never reclaim. Instead, he took a step forward, the earth shifting dangerously beneath his feet, but he remained steady. "You know why," he finally replied, his voice firm, though it carried a softness that was meant for no one but Scaramouche.
A bitter laugh escaped Scaramouche’s lips, hollow and broken. "To what end, Chuuya? You’re just another puppet in a long line of betrayals. Did you really think I would forget? Or forgive?"
The rain lashed harder, and the wind howled as if echoing Scaramouche’s pain. Chuuya’s expression tightened, his heart twisting at the sight of the boy—no, the man—before him, who had once held such hope in his eyes. Scaramouche, who had trusted him, who had believed in him, now stood as a shell of what he once was, consumed by the darkness of his own making.
"I never lied to you," Chuuya said, his voice low but resolute. "Not once. Everything I did was for you, for us."
"For us?" Scaramouche spat, stepping back as if the words were poison. "There was never an ‘us.’ You were just biding your time, waiting for the moment you could plunge a dagger into my back. Well, congratulations, Chuuya. You succeeded."
The accusation hung heavy in the air, and Chuuya felt the weight of it pressing down on him, suffocating him. He wanted to scream, to shake Scaramouche out of this delusion, to make him see the truth. But he knew it was futile. The damage was done. The boy he once knew was gone, replaced by this vengeful god, hell-bent on destruction.
"You’re wrong," Chuuya murmured, his voice cracking. "I would never hurt you. You were the only one I ever cared about."
Scaramouche’s eyes flickered with something—uncertainty, perhaps—but it was gone in an instant, replaced by cold fury. "Liar."
The word cut through Chuuya like a blade, sharper than any weapon he had ever faced. He took a step back, the cliff’s edge crumbling beneath him, but he didn’t care. Maybe he deserved this. Maybe he deserved to fall, to be swallowed by the sea, if it meant Scaramouche could find peace.
But Scaramouche didn’t let him fall. In an instant, he was there, grabbing Chuuya by the wrist, pulling him back from the edge. For a moment, they stood there, inches apart, the storm raging around them, and Chuuya could see the flicker of the boy he once knew in those violet eyes.
But it was gone as quickly as it had appeared. Scaramouche released him, shoving him away, his expression hardening. "I don’t need your pity, Chuuya."
"It’s not pity," Chuuya whispered, his voice barely audible over the storm. "It’s love."
Scaramouche froze, his breath hitching, and for a brief moment, Chuuya saw the vulnerability beneath the mask, the cracks in the facade. But then, Scaramouche turned away, the moment lost, the walls rising once more.
"Leave," Scaramouche said, his voice cold, final. "Before I do something we’ll both regret."
Chuuya stood there, torn between the urge to fight for what they had, and the knowledge that there was nothing left to save. In the end, he turned away, his heart heavy, his footsteps slow as he walked away from the cliff, from Scaramouche, from the one person he had ever truly loved.
And as he disappeared into the storm, Scaramouche stood alone, staring out at the raging sea, the words Chuuya had spoken echoing in his mind, haunting him.
But he didn’t call out to him. He didn’t stop him.
He let him go.