Chapter Text
Through the mirror, partially obscured by the glare of the rising sun, voices tinny through the distance, Ichi sees it. Hears it. That odd Majik, the one that makes Death for Death bite at his rib cage and beg to be released.
"You killed him! You killed your own brother!"
The words echo in Ichi's mind, eyes remaining glued to the screen.
Ultimately, Ichi wants to tell himself it doesn’t matter.
Majiks lie. Majiks cheat and trick and deceive all the time. So taking stock in what one particular Majik, one Ichi doesn’t even know, said once is silly.
But. The memory keeps gnawing on his mind.
The gleeful realization in their tone bouncing off Desscaras’s cold, steel eyes.
… She hadn’t disputed it. And Desscaras loves to dispute things, Ichi knows that. She's argued with him over the pettiest of things as if it were sport. But when confronted with this, this gleeful accusation, this accusatory revelry. She had remained silent.
So maybe it’s true.
And if it is true, then… what?
Why.
It’s why that’s the problem, because why would she do it? What sort of nightmares had occurred just outside of his grasp? There had to be a reason, right? There's always some reason. But why is the question Ichi cannot ask her, more than any other.
Why is a question Ichi asked himself for a hundred nights, as the hunger rotted him from the inside out, as finger tips grew caked in dirt permanently, as the scars across his skin multiplied again and again.
Ichi knows all too well the torment of why.
But. She did do it. Right? She killed her little brother.
Ichi never knew she had a brother. How had he even made it on the ship? When? Had the Majik brought him? Though he knows he can't bring his mouth to ask, his mind continues the barrage against the inside of his skull.
Still, the little details aren’t worth dwelling on, because the picture at large still eludes him.
Maybe if she explained, he’d understand. But to ask would be to acknowledge he’d heard it, to confront Desscaras with the wounds so recently inflicted, still raw and bloody. He can still see her, the way she'd seemingly burst through time and space itself. Caked in blood and grime, face resolute and stone. Compared to her snarky grins or the way her eyes sparkled when she bragged about herself— she was a stranger. Unsettling, the sinking feeling that he was staring at someone he frankly knew very little about.
And yet, they were family, weren't they? She'd declared it first.
(Maybe he should've been suspicious of that. After all, if he'd already been deemed unfit for family before, what would make him worthy of it now? Because he was "special"? Because he had some kinda power, because he was useful? Even then, he'd only be fit as replacement. It doesn't make Ichi sad; that's just how these things are.)
Besides, there was a solid chance she'd just tell him to mind his business, and he’d succeed only in making her mad.
So, he stews in it. The question hesitated behind him, but never crystallized between his teeth.
Still, the lingering doubt clings to him, nails dug deep into his skin.
“If it’s to acquire a Majik, you won’t hesitate to kill your own family!”
Then, one day, will she kill him too?
If he got in the way, if there was something to be gained…
Surely, there are a hundred things more coveted than having Ichi as family. A hundred reasons to discard him. It's happened before, so why wouldn't it again? If there's something to be gained, don't hesitate. No different than hunting, right?
The prophecy says that if the light wins, it shall gutter out and die. By what means, it's not clear. Perhaps, it's fated to be. Already written out, sung out by those special stars that had observed each of their births. Though, perhaps he won't even make it that far. Majiks are freed when their masters die, and the so called Messiah is only the one who acquires Uroro. So maybe, she'll simply kill him for another shot at acquiring the Majik.
The thought turns Ichi's stomach.
It doesn't really sound like something Desscaras would do, not really.
But what does he know? He didn't even know she had a brother.
It's poor form for a hunter to disregard any possibility just because it's not likely. Out in the woods, anything could strike at any moment. Life could be stolen away in an instant.
Ichi knows he mustn't ever forget that. He knows.
Perhaps that guiding light was never him to begin with.
Majiks are tricky, Ichi knows this well. They will lie and cheat, and human haters most of all. Why would witches be any different?
It is by the aligning of the stars that he was able to acquire Uroro. That much has been stressed to him a hundred times over. The associations intent, it had been, was for Desscaras to acquire it. She grumbled one night, on the carriage ride home as Uroro sneered and generally annoyed everyone trying to sleep, that if not for mere technicality she’d have been Uroro’s master. Uroro had scoffed. There was no way he would let himself be acquired by a witch. They’d bickered back and forth for the rest of the night.
Ichi is under no delusion that Desscaras ‘deserves’ Uroro more than he does. At that crucial moment, he was simply the hunter with the strongest resolve and the greatest ability to act upon those desires. For better or for worse, everything was set into motion because of that single tiny moment.
In hunting, it doesn’t matter who deserves what. The weaker hunter becomes the hunted, that is all.
But in a pure one on one battle, is Ichi stronger than Desscaras?
It’s not about who deserves it. If Desscaras wanted Uroro, wanted to take Ichi out to get him…
Ichi knows himself better than anyone. Better than anything in this world. And he knows that if someone were to try and kill him, he’d retaliate in kind.
Ichi doesn’t want to kill Desscaras. But when the time comes; when she does grow sick of him, when she realizes that family with him is nothing in comparison to the power of the ultra amplification magic, he hopes she’ll just cut it off definitively and send him back to Mt. Druid.
It must be inevitable. There is no love with no end, no contract without loopholes, no family that will not end with a knife at his throat. Ichi has never known certainty in anything else.
But here's the thing. For all that Ichi knows, for all that solitude had been his companion, for all his skill and instinct and prowess… He truly did mean it, when he'd given her that gift. The warmth against his chest doesn't fade.
Shouldn't knowing it's temporary, knowing it's out of convenience or to use him or doomed to end with someone at the other's throat— lead him to disregard the bond they'd claim? Deluded into seeing what he wants to, flying straight into a spider web entranced by the way the sunlight hits the dew drops collecting on it?
That, Ichi can't say he knows. If he can only be certain of one thing, it's this.
When their bond inevitably breaks, this time, Ichi won't be the one holding the knife.