authors note: okay hi before this little tiny sad sob story begins, i literally just wanna say that this work wasnât even w akaza to begin w, i acc wrote this for any character so if you donât want it to be w akaza, honestly lmk i loved writing it and would be so down to make something similar for any other character:) okay enjoy my small work bye :p
It was in his eyes, and thatâs how he was caught. A doe stopped in headlights, a childâs first opening glance to the world; the most innocent look planted in those vermilion eyes. Pink eyelashes fluttered with uncertainty. Was this really how he was? If only she wasnât there, now or ever. His own soul cracking at the idea, âOh how far youâve fallen Upper Rank 3.â It was far. So far, she was so far from him.
Firstly, he not once needed her. Not once did he ever essentially need her, not in a literal sense. He was perfectly okay on his own, for years he was alright and years to come he would be just fine. She changed nothing.
She did, and she changed everything he knew. In the most damnding way she changed the way he himself was. No longer he spoke with a hidden snark, a serpent hiss and a mournful cry, now he softly sang to her. The hiss silenced to nothing and the mourning cry reserved only for her. Early mornings where the sun had yet to peak over the mountain tops, and the nights where the stars shined so bright he had thoughts of running away into the shadows; she wouldnât let him regardless. At least not alone. The light blinded him and he was grateful. And all while embraced with her. Most of it physically, but all of it spiritually. The kisses bled through his painted skin into his empty decaying soul. And it was there the beginning twinkle of a spark began to flicker.
Brushing through her hair with, his once own hands, yet completely now herâs. Delicately twisting the soft locks through his calloused fingers and his chipped finger nails. His lips, dried and cracked without tenderness, a permanent frown once no longer. She swept away it all. With every touch came a change in him. In the most painful sense she changed his very being. The way he saw the world around him never once changed, his mind, his motives, this all stayed the same, or so he hoped. For an ounce of sanity in him he prayed silently to himself, âDear Lord, please let me break free from this.â His un-beating heart leaped in his throat, because there she was. Never gone, always lingering in his mind, or her smell in his nose, a faint memory in every atom in the air. All attempts futile, for no matter how hard he wished or prayed this woman changed his very essence down to a molecular level. A gentle smile sat across her face, unknowing. âYou done staring weirdo?â If that was the last sentence he heard, if the world suddenly combusted into a fiery war, if he suddenly dropped dead right there, he wouldnât mind. Sure the words behind her tongue were quite brute; he thought about her words for a second too, but to no use. It would have his heart shivering in his chest, a slight (obviously unrecognizable) blush upon his cheeks, and a lump in his throat. The words fell from her beautiful lips, her voice so pleasant to hear, every word was a symphony. In any sense, he was entirely okay with anything she said being the last thing he heard. From her, every word echoed with such a love and softness, it was intoxicating. The bliss he felt crept into every limb in his body. âNope.â He couldnât lie to her, no. As he continued to brush her hair, a delicate laugh caused a falter in his motions. A sweet song, for only the angels to listen upon, he thought of himself lucky, and couldnât even help resisting the pulling of a smile on his lips.
He could stay in this painful, nerved, stomach twisting pain, all for her. Her, her, her, she who had changed him so much he couldnât even stand it. This was a lie, a lie he told to himself throughout his morphistation.
Who he was, was Akaza. Muzanâs upper 3. Upper Rank 3, and the title was accurately given. He wasnât soft, he knew what to do to get the job done. What he had to do; what he had to do was no longer clear. No, of course it was clear. Blue lily flower, Muzan wouldnât wait any longer. Go. Go, fulfill the dream. A demon in the sun. A dream. A dream that demon-kind dominate, a powerful world filled without the limits that bound them to the dark.
His dream couldnât be more of a reality. For him, the sun has shined on him as long as, she was there. He felt the warmth, the life pulsing through his veins was proof. But he shouldnât; but he did. Again and again and again, only her. She was so, unlike it all. All of what he only knew she stood for everything opposite of just that. Akaza and her are as different as the sea is to the land. He was, but now he is no longer. A dream for a demon to walk in the sun was no longer a dream to Akaza, she was the sun. She was the warmth that bathed him so tenderly with such love and care. She was, she is, she.
The kid with hunafunda earrings. Damn strong kid, once a weakling he saw in the battlefield now as well changed into something different. His own eyes before him saw the power the small boy held within his very cells.
He knew it had to end, it should be here. His life, long and miserable, ending on his own will giving out; but he was not miserable. He had no fear, nor any sadness. He knew she was safe, so very far away. All that was left of her close by, was the memory he held in his own head, heart, and newly reborn soul. She re-welcomed him into this world as something new, someone new.
And it started with love.
Good God it was love. She was flawed, he was ugly and cold yet she loved him. In every sense she was perfect besides that one defying quality, she loved him just as much as but no more than he loved her. The bitterness of the end, the vengeance he wanted in it all; yet Akaza was not hurt. Nor was Akaza saddened, oddest of all, Akaza felt loved. In his last moments, Akaza smiled and laughed softly. Like she did that day his rough hands first traced over her supple body. The way she placed her smooth hands in every same place on his body as he put his large hands on her body. The ringing of her giggle in her ears so loud it couldâve burst his own brain matter into liquid. He felt so loved, the feeling was always there, yes. This was always the strange flicker, the small twinkling in his soul; it wasnât anything small at all. Oh it raged with a bright blaze, it raged the minute he felt it.
It raged strongly the minute she gave him that flower that was poorly picked from the ground, its roots ripped from the earth so roughly. The only rough thing he could imagine her doing, was to bestow upon him the vibrant colored plant. And yet despite its hanging vines and dirt covered petals, it was the most beautiful gift heâd received, the blaze roared in his soul when heâd seen it in her small hands, a smile painted in her gentle eyes as she handed it towards him. The gift, which withered away after a few months in the ceramic jar, would live on in his soul as the most precious thing heâd ever collected.
And she, she would live on in his mind, his heart, and his every atom that was released into the night sky, and as the love in his very essence. He loved her, her, her, her who couldnât help but love him back.
So as his body turned to ashes, they smelt of love. Of a love so strong, the boy with hanafuda earrings for once had been stunned by the death of a demon. Akaza was silently swept away by the breeze that filtered through the air. And into the sky, he could watch over her. And love her all over again, and wait for her, and love her then.
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