Chapter Text
As the vestiges of sleep start to slip from his senses, Izou’s eyes are met with a blurry picture of a dim gray room as his body pulls him from sleep. He yawns, knowing, as a servant, he doesn’t need sleep. It’s more of the comfort and habit of enjoying a drink and eating as any living human would. He’s not too reliant on the habit, but it does make him feel normal. He knows his body is his Master’s to use as they wish. He just wants to make sure he can make the most of his time back here.
He never likes thinking about those final years too much. The pain of betrayal, the only reason anyone wanted to interact with him was because of his sword skills, then he’s also got his not-so-stellar personality… Well, then that’s fair enough. He can admit he wasn’t the easiest person to get along with. Those last years of his life were a dark reminder of how much he had failed and let everyone down.
He sighs, blinking slowly at the ceiling. He was alone on that day, the clear blue sky over his head.
Now, under the protection of Chaldea, he knows he’s not alone. His Master, the kid servants, even Sousuke have seeked him out to fight, play or rest. He felt fortunate his time was being productive in its own way. People seem to want to be in his presence. It was surreal.
On other days, he’d get in one of his irrationally irritable moods. Always on edge, always just a little over sensitive when it came to comments about his abilities or being labeled a traitor. He would end up locked in his room, drinking until he threw up or passed out; sometimes both. He was surprised that he hadn’t accidentally “killed” himself doing that. Drowning in his own puke because he felt sorry for himself.
Loneliness, that’s what he knew he was plagued with despite the attention. It’s at his lows or at least his most volatile when Ryoma seeks him out. He’d sit right next to Izou and offer to share a bottle of sake, all the while listening to Izou’s raging. He’s likely the one keeping Izou from choking on his own bile when completely shitfaced.
There were also those not-so-rare-anymore occasions where Izou would go looking for Ryoma. Something would spark in Sakamoto’s eyes when he saw the angry fluster on Izou’s face as Oryo poked and teased. There was no doubt that there was at least some kind of relationship between them. Not just a friendship, but not any sort of deep romantic relationship either. Izou, even after everything, still believes in Ryoma to a point. He cares in his own emotionally stunted way and, in turn, this must be enough for Ryoma.
Bringing his thoughts back to his current situation, he feels like he should care more than he does, with Ryoma curled up next to him with his head tucked under Izou’s chin and cheek. It’s too comfortable, even with Oryo snuggled in on Ryoma’s other side. They can barely fit together on one of these beds, but they make it work.
“Stop thinking so much and go to sleep, namekuji.”
Oryo’s voice cuts through the air. Her voice muffled under the cloth draped over Ryoma’s back. Ryoma flinches and scoots closer towards Izou, snuggling just a little more. That warm arm thrown over his ribs feels all the more closer. Izou doesn’t hear the murmurs from Ryoma, but feels them. A low, comforting rumble from the body cuddling up to him.
He feels his face flush just enough to get his body feeling too warm, but decides to take Oryo’s advice for once. He leans into Ryoma’s head, breathing deep until his thoughts become nothing but fog in the wind.