vatheon | (no subject)

Characters: Izaya and Shizuo
Location: Izaya's place
Time: Evening
Style: Prose
Status: Closed

Shizuo was no longer a bodyguard - no longer a man from Ikebukuro, displaced and deposited in Vatheon. As the week progressed, he left that identity behind, slipping deeper and deeper into the mindset of a hunter. Whereas before his ax and daggers were unhappy burdens that reminded him of the violence that he so despised, now he carried them with ease, viewing them as tools of a necessary lifestyle. He stalked the forest in search of game, and it was natural, the way he tracked and hunted. Eventually, he stopped questioning himself and embraced what he came to perceive as the necessities for living.

He spent most of the day in the forest, which he navigated with surprising ease. By the time evening fell and the sky darkened, he found his way out without any trouble. The hunt had been relatively fruitless, but he was still in good spirits. What he did not catch today, he would catch tomorrow. Some days were easier than others. Such was the life of a huntsman.

It happened on the walk home. One moment, Shizuo was thinking about dinner, and the next, he was instilled with a compulsion to head in a direction that did not lead to his home. It started as a very subtle change - making a turn instead of heading straight, ax slung over his shoulder, mind at ease. Eventually it blossomed into conviction - something dark that invaded both mind and action, making Shizuo check his clothing to ensure that he still had his daggers, causing him to tighten his grip on the ax and clench his teeth in grim determination.

He couldn't say whose words he was following, exactly, but they were there, in his mind: Kill Snow White and bring me back her heart as a token.

Much like Shizuo the bodyguard, Shizuo the huntsman had never killed a human being before. Though he felt resolved, as though this were a fate he could not escape, an unease clouded his judgement. He had to do this - and yet, each step in the direction toward the fairest in the land was heavy, weighed down by Shizuo's planned deed. His misgivings hardly mattered; despite them, Shizuo approached the doorstep of Snow White's resting place.

A short thrust of his ax, and the door was open. Shizuo didn't need to search the home - he was drawn to the room, which he entered quietly, setting his ax down against the wall. There lay Izaya, hair as black as ebony and skin as fair as snow, sleeping peacefully. Shizuo took out his best dagger and held it in his hand, advancing on Snow White's sleeping form. But when he held it up, poised above Izaya's chest, Shizuo stopped.

It wasn't right. Izaya should be awake for this - should know that his time had come, and that his heart would be taken and given away.

Then Shizuo the huntsman thought of the sleeping man in the tower, and how he had tried to awaken him.

Without hesitation, he sat on the bed and leaned forward, bringing his lips against Izaya's. Unlike the brief, chaste kiss he had given Guy days before, this kiss was confident - tender, but meaningful. It was a kiss that not only requested Snow White to awaken, but urged, You must wake up.

All the while, Shizuo held his dagger, ready to bring it upon Izaya when necessary. The huntsman could not allow Snow White the opportunity to run. Izaya was to awaken to meet his end - nothing more.

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Shizuo's mind was sluggishly trying to wade through the thick, foggy events that had just transpired, but it was difficult. The curse was trying to pull him back into that mindset of the huntsman, back into needing Izaya's heart, Izaya's life in his hands. He couldn't give in. Shizuo tried to fight against it, and it was fucking painful. That had to be what going insane felt like - it was as though his grip on reality were loosening.

He forced himself to stare at Izaya's chest - at what he had done - because that was more real than anything else. It was red and powerful and it hurt, but it was what he had to bind him to his right mind. He watched Izaya's hand hold his chest, grow red with blood, and yes - he had done it. He had made Izaya bleed like that, had cut his chest, and look he did, his expression openly horrified, breaking.

Then Izaya was clinging to his shirt and Shizuo couldn't see what he had done anymore and for a terrible moment he thought he was going to fade, that he was going to disappear again, which meant he was going to do something horrible again, and he tried to cling back, was about to grab Izaya and hold him against him because he so desperately needed an anchor. But Izaya pulled back.

And now there was some blood on Shizuo clothes. Shizuo absently ran his fingers over the soon-to-be stains, wanting something tangible, something to keep him clear. He hardly heard Izaya's words, until that last statement - I don't really even hate you. Shizuo couldn't process what that meant, because he was slipping, but it felt really important. He wanted to hold on to it - to keep it.

"I-Izaya," he forced out, taking a step forward. "I'm sorry. I'm really sorry." It was easy to say it, vulnerable and torn between the person he was and the person the curse made him become. There was no hesitation, no doubt, just raw emotion - regret and despair and the keen sense that he, Shizuo, was truly a monster.

And that was it. Shizuo was gone again - back into the role of the huntsman, aware of his failure. Snow White would live, because he was a coward, because he had felt too deeply, had kissed the person he was supposed to kill. There were better men suited to this job. It was too late for him. He shook his head, and then walked over to where his ax rested against the wall.

Izaya would laugh and skip over this later. He would find ways to use it to his advantage and not let anyone know the true impact of this event. How much it stung deep down below his skin to have had everything just transcend as it had. To have Shizuo look at him with such a pathetic expression and to have him be kissed by that mouth that he was so used to seeing curled up in a feral, insane smile, hungry for Izaya's blood and the thrill of their fights. No, this moment would be isolated in the back of Izaya's memory alongside a few others that he never touched but always kept. That sticky blood ruining his sweater and the undeniable stench of his own rot. It was truly disgusting.

His eyes flashed dangerously to Shizuo when the blond began to speak, that expression of his burned through into Izaya's memory. If he wasn't so clouded from the coma, he would have been able to think quicker, respond faster. Even if he had just awoken from a regular sleep he would be quicker but all he could do was stare and hold onto his chest, hold onto the solidified fact that Shizuo would never be able to do more than just that. That there was something under all of this that Izaya sneered and turned from when confronted with in valuable, horrific moments like this.

"Shizuo," he responded firmly, but even as Shizuo apologized, Izaya observed his expression carefully and he could see that conflict. He understood what was happening and he watched, he waited. Shizuo was two people right now and it was difficult to decipher which one was which, but that despair and regret- that was obvious. That was an inner turmoil that Izaya was long familiar with by now. That desperation Shizuo had to be human. Izaya knew it much more intimately than any other single person and that was what put him ahead of everyone else. Not that Izaya could fight Shizuo and outrun him. No, it was that he understood what it was like to be such a monster. He understood that it was the weakest spot within Shizuo. No one else even had a clue.

But Izaya did.

He always had.

"Shizuo," he said, knowing that the blond was lost to the mentality of whoever the hell he was now due to the curse. Izaya had the common sense to know that it was pointless to talk to Shizuo like this. That it would change nothing. He dropped his hand and walked after Shizuo, grabbing onto his hand before it could reach that ax.

"If you want my heart," he said slowly, carefully, because watching Shizuo look so disgustingly dejected really dug at Izaya in a nasty way, "Then...come find me..." he trailed off, wondering what day it was. What time it was- how much longer the curse had. But then he nodded and said- "A week from now in the gardens. I'll have my heart there for you, okay? That way you won't have to kill me and you'll still have my heart," he said, his thumb pressed into Shizuo's palm.

A week from now, this curse would be over. But Izaya felt some unexplainable urge to try and do something to take that look off of Shizuo's face. That look of failure. It was...unpleasant.

"Or will it be too late?"

Logically, Snow White should have taken his opportunity and fled. Or, at the least, tried to do something about the wound. Which is why, upon hearing his name, Shizuo paused. Izaya did not sound upset, scared, or even angry, and it didn't make sense. Shizuo looked down as their hands met. Izaya's was red with still-fresh blood, and when their skin pressed together, Shizuo's hand became stained, too.

Snow White wanted to give up his heart, willingly. Shizuo stared into Izaya's eyes, searching for what he didn't understand, trying to see what he meant by his words. He couldn't fathom why someone he clearly tried to murder was being so kind, so comforting. But it helped. It eased some of that tight tension Shizuo felt, lifted some of that darkness that had descended on him the moment he realized he had to bring about his end.

Would it be too late? Did it matter if it was? All Shizuo knew was that he needed Izaya's heart. And if he could still get it - could somehow succeed - without having to kill Izaya, then everything would be okay.

"It won't be too late," he replied, and as he said it, he felt confident in that decision. A week wasn't very long, and the heart was worth waiting for. He would do it. He'd meet Izaya in the gardens. "I'll find you." He gave Izaya's hand a light squeeze, stare lingering on Izaya's face and then falling to the wound across his chest. One week. He'd wait patiently.

Shizuo let go of Izaya's hand, lifted his ax, and left without looking back.