“And with that the curtains draw on the world.”
Hikaru’s voice comes from everywhere and nowhere. It breaks the silence following slaughter, the only thing they hear. So small of a group as they are; potential allies strewn across streets, feasts for opportunistic demons that’d never thank anyone for a free meal. Above them the firmament shines and dulls, the grace of God leaving with the death of His chosen. The end of it all starts with the simple pitter pattering of droplets and soon, soon it will be a deluge.
At the end of it all, it was worth everything and nothing.
At the end of it all, Kuro banks it all on an unspoken promise that in the moment feels like little more than an elaborate farce. Mortality drains confidence, it is an inescapable effect of life.
It is when his confidence wanes under the gaze of his only two compatriots, when it feels like he’s been led on little more than a goose chase, he feels Hikaru at his back but only for a moment. He feels then sees her hand slide down his arm, he watches as it changes. What was once the gentle hand of a young woman turns to the clawed hand of a man, and interlaces both of their fingers.
The man’s hands are warm - burning hot - but soothing almost in this inescapable chill so far under the water.
“You have done as I asked and for that I’ll give you your just reward.”
Hikaru’s voice is a man’s, smooth as silk. Deceptively calm. Eventually he feels them put their face on his shoulder, resting it there. Out of the corner of his eye, Kuro gazes at the face of a beautiful man, an angel. Their yellow eyes gaze at him, through him.
The angel smiles and his other hand reaches past Kuro and he can feel the pull magic far beyond anything else he’d fought against. The world warps in front of him, splits open, and a yawning abyss greets his vision. It’s cold, frightening. It beacons him. It feels like. Home.
Wings curl in front of him, sheltering him from it. The angel hums and tightens its grip on his hand.
“That is not for you, but for your only followers.”
The angel presses against him further, the heat threatening to consume him.
“You will come home with me, you have done a great service for me after all and I simply must pay you in full.”
Whatever was he supposed to do now? He had endured far too many trials, and blood still tastes fresh in his mouth. Blood is still fresh. His hands are stained, and so is his face. His clothes. His body; stained forever.
Could it even be called ‘his’, anymore? Kuro has changed far too much, Kuro has fallen far too much. He clawed his way out from the depths of hell, and at the end all he wanted was to get his just reward.
The taste of flesh lingers. His teeth tore through skin, he made his victory clear in the most brutal way possible. Would it be truly honoring the man he once respected if he did so? There was no possibility, no room for mercy. If he could simply forgive and forget, it would be too easy.
If he could simply forgive and forget, he would have drowned like the rest of them. Like the ones that could not see reason, that could not see that this was the only way out. His brain races, and at the same time there is the quiet peace at the end of the world as we know it.
Whatever comes now was new. Whatever comes now was never experienced by him or the few people that followed him.
The ones that were followed and not sacrificed. He had many, but now he stood alone at the precipice. Him and his demons. Him and his broken crown. Him and himself.
The Devil calls to him. Sweetly, gently. Akin to the child he met for the first time. Poisons him. Even if Kuro could see the truth, there was only one way out. And he took it. He sacrificed everything. He killed everything. Was this not what the Devil wanted? The man was never clear. And yet he insisted on staying, a being too preoccupied in observing his new favorite toy.
The Devil holds him, and he for once does not feel repulsed. Kuro does not simply yield to whatever higher force that so clearly desires to lead him. There is simply no other choice now. These are new rules.
From one birdcage to another, the bird sings. Heralds the end of all things.
How long his torment will continue, he wonders. Warm hand against his. Kuro reminds himself of his choices, of what he had to do. Branded as an outcast, the only way out was to acquire his freedom by any means possible.
In the end, did he not prove them right? That he was more beast than man, that he would sell them all for his own survival. Such was the arrogance of men, such was their desperation. The despair that eats up when faced with certain death.
The Angel holds him closer. He does not need to look at Lucifer to know he is smiling right now. After all, he has gained quite a soldier. There was no instant reply, no bite to his words.
But it wasn’t resignation either. It was simply the emptiness of a war won. Of conquest. Of tearing and abandoning. Of being abandoned.
The voice that haunts his dreams since then speaks once more. Was he supposed to be surprised? That he would be kept as a pretty little souvenir? He had said he would fight for his name until the end, and there is no end to eternity.
“This is not what you promised me.”
His voice finally comes out, cracked and tired. A quiet part of his mind wonders if Kazuo will be okay. If he will be okay alone. The only man who chose not to abandon him.
The man he is forced to abandon now to ensure his safety. Once more and once again. This quiet part urges him to argue, to insist that this was not they agreed upon. But the terms of their contract were never totally clear.
It was unfair to thrust another into Hell and let them be. But perhaps for Kazuo’s safety he would have to do so. To the man that saw the ugliest, most rotten parts of him and still decided to stay. Out of fear, perhaps? Kuro is painfully aware he had forced Kazuo’s hand on this matter. He could not simply leave, compromising his entire being by following a man fated to certain doom. And once the Devil’s plan was set in motion, it was far too late to go back.
The Angel continues to speak. His body is on fire. Burning, blinding light. Two beings cast down from Heaven, rejected by the Creator Himself.
The irony is not lost on him.
“As long as they are safe. I promised you when we met that I would follow you.”
Lucifer would know better than to endanger his party, or so he thinks. A man who has betrayed once can betray again. It is proven that Kuro is not above biting the hand that feeds him, after all.
The Abyss feels like home as much as it can be. And for one who has never understood the meaning of it, it is not much. But his soul yearns for it.
This much he knows. This much he is well aware of. The feathers feel almost gentle. Terrifyingly so. The shackles feel so much heavier now.
“I promised that I would stay by your side. But you seem to have made up your mind a long time ago, have you not?
The illusion of choice. That is what you gave me back then. You do not need to keep pretending anymore.”
