desolate domain.

AS IT WOULD END

ii.

It's humid when he wakes. The air is sweltering and hot and more uncomfortable than it has been in a while; for a second Shutsu thinks he's back in that four-white-walled torture. He isn't though, it didn't smell like dry rot and dead things in there.

It smells like garbage and sewer sludge.

He's in a back ally, somewhere. The walls are stained with bile and urine and other questionable substances.

Shutsu feels like his lungs might blow wide open. There are embers of smoke trapped in his mouth, in his veins, a flicker of something he'd given to a stranger.

A grin breaks out across his face. It's stupid and childish and hasn't smiled like this in years. "Mother trucker dude," He says. The walls across from him do not answer, but he says it again in case they misheard. So that he can understand it himself. Shutsu did it. "I got away. I did it."

Shutsu stumbles up like he's tipsy; he's drunk on relief. It floods through his head and the shot of adrenaline sooths through his skin. His bones feel like they might break and his teeth are so close-held they might shatter each other.

A low, hysterical giggle breaks through his lips. They're dry. He'll pick on them, soon. Eventually, he always does. "I did it. Holy shit."

There's ash on his teeth. "He's gonna kill me."

And once more, if only to reassure himself. "I got away."

Shutsu giggles himself silly. Tripping over his feet and grinning so wide his lips cry red. "I did it."

His throat burns, but he won't stop laughing. He can't.

_

When he can finally see past the haze of immortality, Shutsu prioritizes things in the order he's known for. He's sporadic to the highest degree, but he knows what he needs―while his brother was off doing kami knows what. Murder―getting people to sell their souls to him.

Shutsu knows that, well, revenge never brings the freedom that you think it does. It didn't bring Shutsu catharsis when his brother killed his parents, or made his bullies disappear. Himura-kun and her older brother were both menaces, and the only reason they didn't die at his brothers hand is because they moved out before highschool hit and his brother really rose to power.

When they used to kick his stomach in. He kind of feels like that, right now.

His spine feels like it's falling apart apart. Ribs stretching around his heart, feeble breathes cutting like glass.

Whatever, he has to get things done.

_

The wind breaks on his hands, and when he sleeps he dreams in a different body. He's taller, and stronger, and he's a hero―he is something his brother would hate. Shutsu wakes up grinning every time, it's exhilarating; he dreams of his hair turning to gold and his eyes sparking to electric blue. He dreams of a white cape―he dreams of being so young and proud and in pain. He dreams of being stocky, and shorter, and tying his hair up, up, up. He dreams of being able to grab things with a limb he doesn't have anymore, once he wakes.

He wishes it were real, because his life is bitter, now. He takes the money from people who steal it to begin with. Shutsu tries to give it back but everyone he's ever found no longer wants it (or they're gone―). So he takes the bare minimum for himself and gives them rest to the homeless shelters here. He has to walk through too many nooks and crannies to get to the good homes, but he does it anyway.