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canthaveshitinkamurocho · 11 months

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Evening was falling on Yashikimichi. The soft light of lanterns poured out onto the dirt streets from the inside of an izakaya, accompanied by the obnoxious chattering of men.

Okita Soji, captain of the shinsengumi's first division, sat at a table surrounded by a handful of his crew. Unfortunately for the rest of the patrons, he had decided to treat his boys to a night of drinking. They had a way of making their outings everyone's problem.

One of the shinsengumi members poured himself the very last sip of sake from a tokkuri. He looked up at his eyepatched captain, who sat across from him. “Ey, boss. We ran outta booze.”

Okita, flushed from the alcohol they’d been having, scowled at him. “Then get some more. I look like a servant to you or somethin'?”

“N-no-! Sorry, boss.”

One of the establishment’s bussers passed by the table. The underling took the opportunity to shout at him. “Hey, you! Make yourself useful and get us more sake! Make it snappy!”

The young busser stopped dead in his tracks, turning to address the underling with a quiet voice. “Uh, right away....”

A lone, visibly drunk man sat nearby, gulping down a drink. He slammed the cup on the table under him, craning his neck towards the noisy cluster of samurai. “Can ya shut the fuck up? Yer annoyin’ ass voice is gonna give me a damn headache.”

The izakaya went silent, and the subordinate’s attention snapped from the busser to the man. “Huh? The hell you just say, bastard?!”

“Yer ears fuckin’ clogged or something?”

"Tch! This guy…" The underling stomped over to the man’s table, baring his teeth. "Better apologize before you regret that."

"Apologize for what?"

"That big mouth of yours, that's what. You even know who we are?!"

"I know who ya are. Don't really give a shit, though."

Onlookers let out simultaneous, audible gasps. “This guy is seriously screwed…”

Instead of focusing on his subordinate, Okita’s eye fell on the man, intrigued. The stranger was wearing a ridiculous fuchsia hakamashita. His hair was held up in a half-ponytail; the hair underneath the ponytail was short, only reaching under his ears. He seemed as eccentric as he was shameless.

The underling took him by his hakamashita, lifting him up to his feet.

The man’s calloused hands shot up to the other's wrists, trying to shake him off. “Get yer paws offa me-”

"You insolent-!"

"Let him go." Okita got on his feet, making his way over to the two.

"But, boss-"

"Shut it and let him go."

The subordinate took one last glance at the man he was holding and grunted, letting him go with a shove. The man stumbled back but managed to stay up, giving Okita a curious look.

Soji approached him with a palm on the hilt of his katana, tucked away on his hip. "You. Who are you?"

"Not really any of yer business."

Soji tilted his head, raising an eyebrow. "Ya won’t even tell me your name?"

"Hmm… Yer Okita Soji, aintcha? You can try an' beat it outta me if ya'd like." The man’s frown turned into a mischievous grin. Surprisingly, it didn't piss Okita off, at least not completely.

"You know me, then."

"Course I do. Yer face is as pretty as the rumors say." The stranger eyed him up, slicking back his dark hair. The close distance allowed the captain to see that his bangs, which were parted down the middle, were somewhat overgrown, and his oval face was freckled. His mouth was surrounded by a circle beard, much like his own.

"Hah." Okita shook his head, his lips threatening to curl up into a smirk. "Butter me up all you want. Can't have ya disrespectin' my boys." His left hand motioned towards his sheathed weapon.

"It's gonna be like that, eh? Fine by me." The one in fuchsia chuckled, taking one last mouthful of sake before picking up his own katana from the ground. The two strolled out of the izakaya, the unknown man leading the way.

They were followed by Okita’s flock and a couple of drinkers waiting to get free entertainment. Not that it would last long, but who’d pass up the opportunity to see one of the top dogs of the shinsengumi in action?

The captain and the stranger took their positions across from each other, keeping their distance.

Okita's right hand wrapped around his katana. "You pick fights like this often?"

The man’s hand went to his own sword as well, his fingers fondling the hilt excitedly. "Nah. Just don't like dipshits tellin' me what to do."

Their stares were intense enough to burn holes into one another. A mixture of drinks and emotion made their faces hot; beads of sweat were already accumulating on their foreheads even though no one had made a move yet.

Okita raised his weapon, setting the end of the hilt on the center of his left hand; the signature stance of the Tennen Rishin style. He could see a hint of confusion in the man’s face, as if he didn’t recognize the technique. Mistaking the confusion for apprehension, he attacked first, running forwards and slashing diagonally.

The man, having seen Okita coming ahead of time, blocked the captain’s blade, shoving it away. He smiled, a wild glint coming to life in his eyes. He thrust his katana forward three times, each one quickly dodged by Okita. It was an uncoordinated, messy move, but it could've done damage if one wasn't paying attention.

Okita ran in the man's direction again, ready to bring his sword down on him. The unnamed swordsman took him by surprise, stepping to the side. Soji had to swerve his entire body to avoid falling on his katana, which was coming right at him.

Their swords kept clashing over and over for nearly 10 whole minutes, neither one able to outdo the other. Although the swordsman's odd fighting style was highly unpredictable, Okita's trained eye helped him avoid making any major mistakes.

A small crowd had come together to watch the duel. The closest they'd gotten to seeing blood was a couple of cuts. The pair were getting tired, both of them breathing laboriously and dripping with sweat.

The swordsman stood still, holding his katana with both hands as if he were going to say something. Okita tackled him to the ground before he could, making the man drop his weapon. He pointed the tip of his sword at the man's face.

The man simpered, looking up at Okita. "Not one to play clean, eh?"

"Never said I would."

"Seems like a stalemate to me."

The captain furrowed his brows, feeling something jab him in the gut. A gun.

Okita took a breath, their gazes at each other unbreaking. A thin drop of blood fell from his katana onto the man’s face, leaving a crimson splatter on his tanned cheek. This was the first time anyone had managed to back him into a wall since completing his training. His eye twitched, and the cool breeze sparked something within him, something dormant; he realized this was the best fight he'd had in a while.

"You're smarter than you look, old man."

His nameless opponent laughed. "Old man? Damn. Stings harder than yer blade." Although he was worn out, the glimmer in his eyes didn't go away. "Only idiots carry a single weapon around."

Okita's group gaped at each other in amazement, and the crowd marveled on.

The captain smirked. "... Truce?"

"Truce."

Okita got off the swordsman and put his weapon away. The swordsman stood back up, not bothering to wipe the dirt from his clothes or the blood from his cheek.

The crowd watched the pair in amazement; someone managed to walk away from Okita Soji with their head still on their neck.

His band of men mumbled to each other indignantly. One of them stepped forward, fists clenched, “You can't just let him leave like that…!"

"I can't? Who decides that, huh?" Okita glared, sauntering towards the group.

"Um…" His lackey hung his head in response, taking a few steps backwards.

"Thought so. Get back inside. We're not done drinkin', right?"

"Yes, sir…"

With that, the cluster of shinsengumi headed back inside. Seeing them leave, the crowd also started to dissipate, leaving the captain and the swordsman behind.

The stranger turned to leave, speaking up without looking at Okita. "The name's Nagatani Hisamoto, by the way."

"Ah. Didn't think you'd actually tell me."

"I'm a man of my word. I think this fight needsa rematch, Okita-chan. See ya 'round."

Okita scoffed, making his way into the bar. "You didn't even pay for your drinks."

"Oops, guess I forgot." Nagatani ambled out of sight, rounding a corner leading farther into Yashikimichi.

Something told Okita this wouldn't be the last time he’d see that guy.

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despair-ninja-everything-agency · 4 years

Text

Oblivious

I swear I’m not obsessed or anything-

A fic for my Kara ga Gotoku AU. Took me 2 days and 2 restless nights to finish due to college. Title came from Fukan Fukuei’s ED theme. This is supposed to be my take on what happened after Millennium Tower exploded and basically a Nishiki-centric Yakuza re-imagine of Hollow Shrine.

Sorry if there’s oocness with some characters and, as always, if there’s any misspellings, redundancies, and grammatical errors. This is the longest fic I’ve made yet.

Before delving in, credits to @koikoikisses (sorry for tagging :,D) for the concept of Shikiya (Nishiki’s alternate personality). I just take my own spin on it for this AU.

Word Count: 5000+ words

Characters: Akira “Nishiki” Nishikiyama, Shikiya, Kazuma Kiryu, Sakamoto Ryoma (Yakuza Ishin), Miyamoto Musashi (Yakuza Kenzan)

Pairings: NiShikiya/AkiShiki, possible one-sided MusaShiki

Fic under the cut

When he opened his eyes, all he saw was nothing. He was floating aimlessly in this absolute void. He thought he was dead. Felt like he’s dead. Yet, another part of him felt alive. As if there were nothing life-threatening happened to him before.

Where am I?

He thinks to himself.

Why am I here?

Am I alive? Am I dead?

What had happened to him?

What of-

And then everything went white.

-o0o-

He abruptly sits up, panting heavily as if he had just running for a long time. Trying to calm himself, he looks around his vicinity. It’s night time. He’s in a hospital room. Smell of antiseptic enters his nostrils as he breaths in. He bows his head and closes his eyes once he calmed down, trying to recall what happened.

Someone shouted his name. No, not quite his name but close. Then a blinding flash and a loud boom. And then nothing.

He hears the door creaks open. Someone’s coming. Slowly, his eyes flutters open and his gaze directed to where the sound came from. The doctor, a nurse trails behind him, comes to check him up. He’s saying something but all that come out is nothing. Well, at least to him as he doesn’t bother to pay attention. He cranes his head to see the doctor. That’s when he sees it.

Writhing and glowing mass of red lines swarming on the two strangers. Anything beside them are blurred and muted, as if forcing him to look at them. They dance. Whispers on the back of his head beckons him to cut them off.

His eyes wide. His face paling. The sight of it is absolutely sickening. He looks away from them. The lines follow his gaze. Even after he tries to look a different direction, they still within his vision. He screams, clutching his head and screwing his eyes shut. Anything to get those foul sight away. The whispers come back, demanding him to look. The doctor tries to calm him down. He only screams louder, tears streaming down his cheek as he desperately cries for whatever it is to stop. He wails out that name, to that person he wishes is still there somewhere within him.

-o0o-

It took him an hour before he finally calmed down. The doctor and his nurse had left fifteen minutes earlier. The lines are still there, just not as loud and demanding as before. As he lays there, eyes on the ceiling, he wonders what was that. So many questions he’d like to answer yet nothing he could explain. He tiredly shrugs it off, closing his eyes and letting himself drift to sleep.

-o0o-

The same thing happens again the next time the doctor visits. He screws his eyes shut, trembling as he screams and cries.

Make it stop! Please!

He continues his lament.

Where is he? Where’s Nishiki?!

If the doctor is weirded out by that question, he doesn’t show it.

-o0o-

The third time it happened, he had tried to claw his eyes out. The doctor had no choice but to cover them with bandages.

In a way, he’s grateful. Sure, darkness can be lonely. But at least it’s better than seeing those things again.

Like this, he can finally calm down and think. How long had he been out? Is Yumi okay? What about the kid? What’s her name again? Haruka? What about Kiryu?

… What about Nishiki?

He sobs as he remembered. After that day he took over, the poor boy had been pulling himself away into the depths of the mind. He had believed that he would come back, first through his efforts then by Kiryu’s presence. However, it did nothing. That is, until the incident that night. Nishiki had surged out from his isolation and pulled the trigger, destroying the 10 billion yen with the bomb Yumi had set up before. If he hadn’t been dead before, the incident that night surely had killed him for good. Tears stained the bandage wet. He finally realizes one thing.

Akira Nishikiyama is dead.

And there’s nothing he can do but regret and cry, even if it’s not his strongest suit.

-o0o-

Kiryu has visited him today, asking if he’s getting better. He can only nods, not trusting himself to talk after three rounds of screaming and crying.

“Doctor said you asked for Nishiki,” the other man says matter-o-factly.

He steels himself. Ain’t that sound weird, coming from the mouth of supposedly Nishiki himself?

A chuckle breaks the relatively short silence.

“I suppose it’s to be expected”

Huh?

“If you’re not him, then who are you?”

Silence.

What is it with that question? Did Kiryu somehow know him and Nishiki were different? If so, how? How did he manage to know?

Not bother to dwell on those many questions swarming his head, he chooses to answer the other man with a hoarse croak instead.

“Shikiya”

-o0o-

Days pass by as he recovers from his wounds. Kiryu visits him once in a while. Most of the time, he takes Haruka with him. A pang of guilt pierces him when she tells him that Yumi died too that night. He apologizes to her, but she tells him it’s fine. He wonders how much of that is true to her.

At times, Kiryu visits him alone, having dropped Haruka to some trusted subordinates.

(Majima, of all people? Really, Kiryu?

You’ll be surprised if I told you what he’s like, Shikiya…)

During those times, they would chat freely without having to hide anything. They talk about life in general, what the outside world is currently like, and other mundane stuff. Kiryu asks him of himself, not as ‘Nishiki’ but as Shikiya. There are times that he would answer but the other times he just silent.

There’s something off… with Kiryu, though.

Sometimes, when they talk, his voice would sound soft and emotional. Kiryu by no mean a cold man, but he was never being one to be too emotional as well. Even if he cries, he still retains some coolness with him. This one’s different. He doesn’t know what it is, it’s just too uncharacteristically gentle and too sentimental to be Kiryu.

Other times, it’s the opposite. His tone would sound mischievous and mocking. Unlike the other voice, this one is completely out of character for it to be Kiryu. Too playful to be him. It is as if there’s venom every time he talks. He does realize it’s just for the show, that this voice does not always talk like this. Still, it makes his whole body shivers in uncertainty and rage. One time, that voice had the audacity to flirt with him. Shikiya wished his palm connected with the other man’s cheek the moment he swung it at him but part of him was relieved he didn’t hurt Kiryu over such trivial thing.

-o0o-

In a few days, he will be discharged from hospital. Most of his burnt scars has healed. Shikiya breaths a relieved sigh. He might need to go back to his mess of a family but he’s ready to face the consequences.

Even if it’s without Nishiki.

-o0o-

Kiryu had offered himself to stay by his side for the night. As always, Haruka was dropped somewhere else, this time by her own classmate’s house. Slumber party, he’d say. Shikiya couldn’t help but chuckle at the mental image.

“Y’know… I was wondering…”

That stupid cheerful voice again…

“Hmm?”

“I don’t remember you being blinded. Sure, you were in point blank position. But, if I’m not mistaken, the doctor said your head was intact. So how come you’re having bandages around your eyes?”

Shikiya’s blood runs cold. He hadn’t accounted that Kiryu would ask around for his condition, hoping he’d assumed the bandage was due to some kind of head trauma. Gotta find a plausible reason for it. He’s not ready to tell him it was to isolate himself from even taking a glimpse of those wretched vision.

“U-Umm… He said I got injured on the back”

Silence. He could almost practically feel Kiryu’s gaze on him. He gulps.

“Really?”

He nods.

Another silence.

Shikiya hopes the other man just dropped the subject already.

As the silence stretches far and wide, he sighs as he hears scraping sound of chair against tiles. Kiryu must’ve left for something. The window, maybe. Shikiya lets himself relaxes, leaning his back against the pillow propping behind him.

Something struggles to yank the bandages.

Panic shot through his entire system.

He pins his palms hard against the bandages, grounding it to his face. He cries out a protest.

“W-What are you doing?! Stop it!!”

Kiryu doesn’t listen, judging from the ever-increasing vigor in forcefully ripping the coverings away. Shikiya desperately clings to it, begging for him to not take it away from him.

As the last shred of the cloth falls onto his lap, Shikiya feels his hands being gripped and pried away from his face. He glares at the other man, barring his teeth threateningly. He would’ve maintained that look had his vision’s not being filled with that blurred, muted scene as before. Right in front of him, the same glaring red lines swims about, outlining a shape of a face.

Something different this time. Something that drains any color from Shikiya’s face.

A pair of dark, eerie grayish green eyes bore into his soul.

He squeezes his eyes shut, refusing to look into the nightmare before him.

“Oi! Look at me!”

He feels his body being shaken.

He still refuses to look.

Suddenly, the grip around his hands disappear. He chances himself a look. The lines outlining the other man get yanked as if some force had pushed them away from him. Both men pant raggedly. Silence falls once more, only being accompanied by their heaving breaths. The two watch each other as if having a staring contest.

The lines are still there but what were once eerie green eyes has been replaced by soft blue hue.

“Shikiya…”

The soft-spoken one…

The outline slowly approaches him, cautious not to agitate him too much. He scoots back but his ass already hits the bed’s headboard. Once the outline stands beside him, he looks up at it. His breaths already calm down a bit but it’s still clear from his expression that he’s still panicking inside.

A hand reaches out to his. He considers pulling away.

“Shiki… It’s okay…”

That voice… So gentle…

He flinches when they make contact.

“Close your eyes… Take a deep breath…”

He does so. One, two, three…

That hand squeezes gently against his.

So warm…

He slowly opens his eyes and looks to the side. Everything is back to normal, crisp and full of colors. The lines are gone. There, Kiryu gives him a concerned look. Soft blue hue glows from his eyes.

Was it always blue like that?

“Kiryu…?”

A blink.

Ethereal blue replaced with familiar brown.

“Shikiya…”

Sighing, he lets himself slumping against the headboard, his hand squeezes back at Kiryu’s.

“I’m sorry…”

No, please don’t apologize you idiot! It’s not your fault, it’s mine! I’m the one getting worked up over nothing!

But… was it really nothing…?

He feels like he wants to cry.

-o0o-

Kiryu had explained everything.

The visions… Mystic Eyes of Death Perception. Allowing its user to see the lines of death, the concept of longevity given form. If you cut the line, its owner will cease to live.

Shikiya wouldn’t believe him the first time, thinking he was fucking with him.

Kiryu himself doesn’t seem to be sure about it as well.

He had another guy do the explaining again later.

It’s still him, red shirt and grey suit pants. The blazer had been hanging on the chair’s backrest. But his eyes are different. It glows soft blue from within, overshadowing its natural brown color. His tone, tender than Kiryu’s usual tone.

It’s him. The soft-spoken one.

His name is Sakamoto Ryoma.

Shikiya feels like he’s gonna faint. If Nishiki didn’t pay attention to history classes back at school, Shikiya would’ve think Kiryu’s fucking with him again. Too bad that wasn’t the case (and Kiryu’s shit at acting anyway).

The historical figure, who is currently possessing Kiryu (his descendant, for fuck sake! Shikiya wouldn’t have knew. Nishiki wouldn’t have known), reiterates what his host had explained before only in much more detail and confidence.

Silence ensues as Shikiya tries to process the information.

“Wow…” he whispered.

“Forgive me, Shikiya-kun. I know it’s too much for you to-“

“No, no! It’s okay, Sakamoto-san! It’s just… I didn’t expect to have such power”

“Please, Ryoma’s fine”

He nods.

Neither speaks after that.

Another awkward silence.

Shikiya’s the one breaking the silence this time.

“So, umm… Ryoma-san?”

“Hmm?”

“If you… Were you…”

Shikiya sighs.

“Yes?”

“Is there… someone else? Well, beside you and Kiryu, I mean…”

Ryoma blinks.

“What do you mean?”

Shikiya’s face heats up.

“I-I mean! There’s this… one. Back when I see nothing but darkness. He’s like, y’know? He has Kiryu’s voice but talk like a dick to me. Sounds like an asshole! Fucker keeps teasing me every time! Do you know that he once tried to flirt with me? N-Not like I like it or anything! I already have a crush!”

The not-quite Kiryu blinks before bursting into a laugh.

“D-Don’t laugh!” Shikiya bashfully reprimands.

“S-Sorry! It’s just- I know too well who are you talking about,” Ryoma answers once he calms down, wiping away the tear from the corner of his eye.

“Really? Who is it, then?”

The not-quite Kiryu clears his throat before looking at Shikiya with a serious expression, as if he wasn’t just laughing his ass off from the other’s minor inconvenience a second ago.

“Yes. But… Do you really want to see him? Last time you two together, it wasn’t a pleasant experience”

Shikiya frowns at that, recalling what happened last night. The forceful hands, how close his face was, how he sent shiver down his spine when their eyes meet even just for a moment and how it was distorted by his vision. Sighing, he closes his eyes and thinks. Ryoma patiently waits for him, not wanting to make the other man uncomfortable. A minute passed before Shikiya opens his eyes and looks back at Ryoma, nodding a confirmation.

It’s Ryoma’s turn to sigh and close his eyes. Shikiya watches expectantly and wonders. Who is the other man? What makes him so insufferable and yet so endearing?

Before he got his answers, the corner of Kiryu’s lip curls into a manic smile. When he opens his eyes, it glows eerie green. The same one Shikiya saw in his nightmarish vision. Shikiya’s body ceases its movement yet also shivering in anticipation. When he talks, it’s in the same annoying tone as Shikiya remembered.

“It’s been a while, Shikiya!”

The not-quite Kiryu brings up his thumb and forefinger to hold Shikiya’s chin with, causing the latter to flinch. He pushes his chin up, forcing the other to look at him.

“Didn’t know you miss me that much~!”

Fear is all Shikiya know at that moment, recalling the nightmare from earlier night. Noticing this, the not-quite Kiryu frowns and let go of his grip, sighing.

“Hey… Sorry about yesterday… I didn’t mean to scare you… I thought- If you face fear head on, you’d-“

A sigh.

“Look… I’m sorry… I promise something like that wouldn’t happen again…”

He doesn’t trust his words.

Rage-filled punch crashes against the side of Kiryu’s cheek, throwing him off his seat. Shikiya breaths heavily before realizing what he had done, looking at his fisted hand in horror.

“S-Sorry! I-I didn’t know what’s gotten into-“

Soft shuffling noises echo through the room as his victim gets up. Footsteps clacking against the floor, approaching him. And then…

SMACK!!

Red handprint forms on his pale cheek. His lips slightly ajar, stunned at the sudden slap.

“Fight me”

“Eh?”

He looks up at the other man. Gone was that playfulness. His expression devoid of emotion. It is as if he is a different person, yet the cold grayish green eyes staring back says otherwise.

“If you hate me that much, then it’s only fair for you to fight me”

An invitation. Every fiber of his being is screaming to turn it down. To brush it off and cowers in fear, even if it’s not like him to do such thing. Warning him that he wouldn’t stand a chance against the man before him.

Yet, he takes the bait. Turning his fear and sadness into anger, he springs out from his bed, hitting the man with such ferocity it leaves a bruise swelling. His vision blurs, red lines wrapping around his opponent.

Mystic Eyes of Death Perception. Allowing its user to see the lines of death

Kiryu’s words echo on the back of his mind. Momentarily, panic courses through his body. However, he soon turns it into a manic desire. A desire to kill this man before him who had so rudely mock and taunt him.

If you cut the line, its owner will cease to live.

Let’s see if it’s true or not…

Shikiya frantically grabs anything sharp from the table beside him. Anything to cut those lines. His palm pressing against a cold metal surface.

Good, he thinks. This’ll do…

Murderous glint reflects on his eyes as he swings the object at the not-quite Kiryu. The other man dodges it, cruel smile spreads through his lips. His eyes show the same murderous glint as his are, a sight so out of place on Kiryu’s face he just wants to punch it out of disgust. It doesn’t matter, though, as the two set into a wild and fast-paced brawl. Shikiya moves swiftly, aiming for a slash, but his movements are frantic and erratic, going for nothing but the kill. The not-quite Kiryu, meanwhile, evades in such grace and finesse, occasionally throwing a defensive punch at his opponent. They both move as if it’s a choreographed dance except for the frenzied speed of each fighters. Crashes and thuds fill the room they’re in, ransacking it mercilessly with their exchanged blows.

Their fight concluded soon after, with Shikiya straddling Kiryu’s hips and looking down at him. His right hand clutching on the metal object tightly. Both fighters pant heavily, chests heaving from the adrenaline. Shikiya lifts his hands, clasping his fingers around the metal object. Rage-filled expression directed to his opponent, expression unreadable as he watches him. With a cry, he swings the object down…

…it stabs the tiled floor beside Kiryu’s head.

Bitter laugh escapes Shikiya’s mouth. His body trembles as he let out a soft sob.

“I… I can’t…”

He lets go of the object. Clatter fills the otherwise silent room before it too ceases its sound.

“Heh… It’s weird… I’ve been wanting to kill you for what you did… Been wanting to silence you for talking shit to me… And yet, I… I can’t…”

Another sob.

“Why can’t I kill you…? Why… Why don’t I wanna kill you?!”

The not-quite Kiryu’s face soften. The manic smirk and cold scowl have been replaced with as small sad smile. He brings up his hand to brush away Shikiya’s stray hair and cups his cheek. Shikiya flinches but lets him to do so, placing his hand on top of Kiryu’s. He hadn’t realized his flowing hair until now. Fuck! He must’ve look like Nishiki right now. The mental image is enough to make tears welling up his eyes, still unable to cope with the other’s passing. He feels sick for wearing the look of his fallen friend. Kiryu’s thumb swipes away the tear.

“You did good, kid…”

That’s all the other man offers him. He glances to his side, looking at the object that could be his downfall. Shikiya follows his gaze. His eyes go wide when he sees it, realization dawns to him.

A bent spoon lays non-threateningly against the tiled floor.

Shikiya had been trying to kill Kiryu with a goddamn spoon.

The idiocy doesn’t escape him. He laughs, softly at first before turning into a maniacal laugh and ends with a choked one. All the while Kiryu’s hand still attached to his cheek. Shikiya leans to the touch. He closes his eyes, sighing as waves after waves of emotion crashes against him.

“Hey…” He calls the other out in a whisper. “Can I… borrow your shoulder… for a bit?”

The not-quite Kiryu looks up at him and nods, groaning as he feels the shift in weight. Shikiya has laid himself on top of him, face buried against his shoulder. He’s too tired to cry, too tired to argue and talk. He inhales a generous amount of air. Smell of sweat and cologne enters his nostrils, lulling him to unconsciousness. He feels a hand combing through his soft, messy hair. Through Nishiki’s hair. Another pang of guilt stabs him, though he’s too exhausted to dwell on it.

“Musashi…”

Shikiya hums questioningly, muffled only by the fabric of Kiryu’s shirt. He doesn’t bother to look at the other in this state.

“Name’s Miyamoto Musashi”

He hums again, this time in content. He finally allows himself drifting to sleep, aware of Kiryu’s strong arms hugging him securely.

-o0o-

The hospital bill suddenly spikes up. Not from the increase of tax but from the property damage he and Kiryu had caused in his room earlier this morning. Shikiya had insisted he would be the one covering for the bill with the Nishikiyama family’s treasury but Kiryu didn’t listen, apologizing and promising the doctor to take responsibility for the damage they’d done. Just before he left, Kiryu – no, Musashi – had offered to teach him how to control the Mystic Eyes but he refused, not wanting to burden the other man with his problem.

(Wait, THE Miyamoto Musashi?! Kiryu, what the fuck is your family, man?! Are you secretly related to all of Japan’s most influential people?!

Shiki, believe me when I said I’m just as surprised as you… I never knew that until these two came into my life. Did Ryoma-no-niisan tell you he’s part of Shinsengumi as well?

But… Wasn’t Sakamoto Ryoma their enemy? How was he part of Shinsengumi?

Yeah… He’s also Saito Hajime…

He WHAT?!)

And after that, he’s left alone. The room had been cleaned from hazardous debris, though the broken and bent furniture are yet to be fixed. Shikiya sighed and laid back to his bed. So much had happened in such a short time. He shut his eyes, imagining Nishiki’s voice and presence. He wished the other half was still there with him but with everything that had happened? He doubted he’s still alive. Yet he kept on hoping, praying that he survived.

Frustrated, Shikiya forced himself to sleep, convincing himself to just forget it already.

-o0o-

Where am I?

He thinks to himself.

Why am I here?

Am I alive? Am I dead?

What had happened to him?

What of-

His train of thoughts were interrupted by ghoulish wails in the distance. He looked around, finding nothing but complete darkness. Then he saw it. Writhing masses of restless spirits came into view. The macabre sight almost sending him running on his heels in fear. But then he heard something else, not quite an echoing wail of a spirit. Rather, a whimper of a lost soul trapped among the land of the dead.

Please!

Get away from me!

Leave me alone!

Swallowing, he cautiously approached the masses of death. Then he saw it. Black, slicked back hair. White suit and pants. A figure standing hunched. His back was facing him, hands clutching tightly at the hair it almost looked like it got ripped from its roots.

He recognized that look, recognized that voice.

As he drew closer, flashes of emotions struck him.

Regret. Sadness. Anger. Fear. Guilt. Pain. Anguish.

Loss.

Suddenly, he understood. As the ghouls closing in toward the lost soul, he took action.

Kicking. Punching. Biting. Stomping. Smashing.

He put everything into his being to protect this lost soul, distant yet familiar.

Then he saw it.

Red lines coiling around the ghouls.

He didn’t understand at first but he figured he’d find out as he went.

He noticed at last.

Spirits ceasing to exist once the lines were cut.

And so he did. Cutting every last visible line on the wretched spirits until there’s no more of them.

He looked back at the lost soul. Glaring red lines plastered on its being.

He shook his head.

No, I wouldn’t kill him.

After what I did to protect him.

I wouldn’t waste my effort just to end him.

The lines disappeared.

He approached the lost soul.

He hugged the poor soul.

He whispered the soul’s name.

Shikiya…

The one he had called tensed and slowly turns around, tears staining his pale cheeks as their gaze met.

Ni… Nishiki…

He smiled, wiping the other’s tears with his finger.

Heh… Who’s the crybaby now?

Shut up… You left me…

I know…

I thought you were gone…

I’m sorry…

I love you…

He kept on. Whispering apologies and sweet nothings. Inching his face closer and closer. Until their lips locked into a gentle kiss. Their eyes fluttered shut. Savoring the moment of tenderness. Never wanting to let go.

-o0o-

Shikiya wakes up gasping for air, eyes pried open as he darts his gaze everywhere in the room. Slowly, he sits up, comprehending on his dream in sleep.

There was darkness. Then the eldritch beings. Then silence. Then the familiar warmth. Then…

Part of him doesn’t believe it was real, brushing it off as a dream. He can’t sense him from within, so surely it can’t be real... Right?

But... Another part of him wants to believe it, clinging onto that sliver of hope. If so, then there’s one thing for sure…

Nishiki is in there somewhere.

Akira Nishikiyama is alive.

He calms down, fingertips ghosting over his lips. A tingling sensation and warmth send shiver down his spine as he remembers the kiss. He breaths, shutting his eyes as he replayed that scene, that feeling over and over in his mind.

-o0o-

The night before he’s officially discharged, he chances himself a look on a mirror. His face looks tired. There’re faint eyebags under his eyes. His hair’s in shambles yet neatly parted in the middle. Stray bangs framing his gaunt face.

He looks like shit.

He looks like Nishiki.

Sighing, he combs his hair backwards in hope to achieve his preferred slick back style. It doesn’t work, as strands of hair fall back to the parted style the moment his hand leaves the scalp. He exhales in frustration, slightly banging the mirror as he leans against it.

Soft thud disturbs the otherwise peaceful night. It comes from outside. Shikiya cautiously removed himself from the mirror and approaches the door. Before his hand touching the cold surface of the doorknob, someone barges in so suddenly.

A man… No, not a man. Foul stench fills the hospital room. Rotten flesh splats on the otherwise pristine floor below. His eyes unfocused, rotating unnaturally in different direction. He pauses for a moment, looking at Shikiya with that ghoulish eyes, before charging at him, knocking him against a wall. Shikiya feels a pair of decaying hands pressing against his neck, his windpipe, choking him. He struggles to pry it off, mind starting to become unfocused as air leaves his lungs steadily. He contemplates giving up and ceasing his struggle. What’s the point of living after everything that happened?

Then he remembers. He remembers the three distinct yet similar voices. He remembers the warmth of skin against skin. He remembers the gentler times. He remembers the smell of something other than hospital, something comforting.

He remembers that dream.

No… I can’t die here now.

Someone murmurs something in the back of his mind.

Live.

With renewed strength, Shikiya pushes the monster away. They hit the window, sending them plummeting to the ground below. Shikiya considers himself lucky as he gets up, although his burnt wounds start to feel sore. The monster stirs from its resting place before he rises from the ground, standing and turning to look at his prey in stumble. Shikiya panics, scenes from his nightmare threatens to fill in his vision. His body shakes as he takes a step back.

Use your Eyes.

Subconsciously, he does. His surroundings turn blurred and muted. Red angry lines wrap around the incoming monster.

Breath. Focus. Focus on killing your enemy.

He closes his eyes. He takes a deep breath. One, two, three…

He hears grasses scrunched under clumsy feet.

You can do this.

That voice, strangely comforting.

He finally calms down, opening his eyes to look at the monster sharply. He bends down and picks up a shard of glass before dashing at him. With one swift stroke, he slashed the monster, shriek in agony echoes through the night. In his vision, he had cut several lines mostly on the torso. Blood sprays from the monster, covering his assailant with the pungent liquid. Shikiya uses the blood to style his hair to the slick back style he’d been trying to get. His lips twitch into a sadistic smile. It’s been a long time since he feels the thrill of killings.

Abruptly, pain pulses in his head. The shard falls from his grip as he drops into his knees, clutching his head harshly. There’s something in there. Something that forces his soul to leave his body. He withholds, not wanting to be defeated so easily.

I’ll take care of it.

That’s when he feels himself being pulled into the depths of mind. He doesn’t see it but he can feel it. Warmth coursing through his being as familiar hands guiding him. His body moves in automaton, picking up the fallen shard and points its sharp end to his chest.

Trust me with this.

So he did, letting the shard stabs through his chest.

Strange… That doesn’t hurt at all.

Screams and wails overflowing his ears, yet it’s not his voice nor the voice that had been guiding him. The shard slides out with ease once the noises disappears into the night. His body feels light, as if the burden had been lifted from his shoulder. For a moment, he experiences peace.

Shikiya…

That voice whispered his name, gentle and serene. He whispers back, equally as soft.

Nishiki…

Tears pricking the corner of his eyes. He had missed that name for a long time. Ever since the day the older soul retreated into nothingness, returning briefly only to almost disappearing completely from within.

Strong yet tender arms ghosting around his body, hugging him from behind. Shikiya could sense Nishiki’s presence, even if he can’t see him. He rests a hand above Nishiki’s right above his heart. The heart beats steadily. He gazes upwards. Clear night sky speckled with twinkling stars greets his vision.

That’s the last thing he sees before he blacks out.

-o0o-

“How is he?”

“Hmm?”

Kiryu pays him a visit in the afternoon. He has heard the news that the patient Akira Nishikiyama had jumped off from his room and was found unconscious and caked in blood the next day on a clearing behind the hospital, along with an unidentified and mangled corpse. The doctor had decided to extend his stay for a day until he truly recovers. Now, they sit in the messy room, product of the duel a few days back and of that night’s scuffling.

“How’s the other guy?”

“Oh. He’s fine. Just exhausted. Poor guy must’ve gone through a lot after I disappeared”

Kiryu nods in understanding.

The man before him. The Koi. Kazama’s boy. Kiryu’s sworn brother. He’s looking out to the horizon, expression unreadable.

“Kiryu?”

“Yes?”

A pause.

“Thank you…For taking care of Shikiya while I’m gone”

Nishiki turns his head toward him, his lips formed into a grateful smile.

Kiryu couldn’t help but smiles back.

“Anything for my brother”

He’s sure his ancestors would agree with him.

FIN

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