As Things Should Be

-31- Spirit

It was dark. That shouldn't have surprised him. Fitting that his existence would end in darkness, still... it was unnerving.

Akaza stood in the void and found himself unable to breathe, unable to think. His chest was so tight, but he couldn't remember why. There was an echo of a scream that clung to the walls of this nothingness, but he couldn't remember who had called for him, only that it had been the final words he'd heard.

Final?

Oh yeah... he was dead. He distantly remembered a sword severing his neck... who'd done it? Flesh and steel, golden eyes; six of them, crimson and pale and oh... Kokushibo, that was his name. Kokushibo had killed him.

Damn... he was dead.

There was a lot attached to that realization; Anger he'd always held, grief he couldn't remember, regret he couldn't understand... A release... A relief. 

Relief? 

Yes. Relief. He'd wanted this. He'd... for so long... since before... this.

Blood and death, neverending pain paired with scathing tones because he was the favored, he was strong, he was damned, he was hurt -

His hands were shaking, palms trembling. For a moment his hands were the color of warmth; they were human hands, with dirt under his nails and bruises on his knuckles. Then they were porcelain white. For a moment he was Haikuji, and then he was Akaza. Back and forth, back and forth, flickering like a flame drowning in wax, as if not even death knew what to call him.

How would divine punishment come; for Haikuji or Akaza? Who was he? 

"Akaza," Muzan's voice echoed in his heart, disgust, and disappointment etched in every letter.

The voice made him fall to his knees on instinct as every cell in his body shook in trepidation. He instinctively prepared for a punishment to come, despite his mind screaming at him otherwise. He was dead. Muzan couldn't follow him here. He couldn't. Surely Akaza would escape him in death.

Years, years spent in that abuse, that cycle of desperation to please a monster who could never be content. Years knowing how it felt to have every organ crushed while still safely in his chest, agony ripping through his being without his skin ever being touched, his mind silently begging to know what he'd done wrong.

He could escape it now. He was free of it now. He was free now - so why was he trembling? Why!? His mind was garbled with too much and too little all at once as he knelt there, his body curling in on himself as he switched from body to body, Akaza to Haikuji, a demon to man, and all back again.

"Akaza," Muzan called again and the demon in question snarled with a flinch.

"Go away. Go away, I'm not yours anymore, go away... please... please let me die. Let me rest. Please."

That's all he wanted. That's all he ever wanted. To die. To rest. To pay for his crimes and put an end to his miserable existence... that's it... that's all...

"Akaza!" the demon lord snapped.

"No..." He begged. All that bravery, all that gusto, and he couldn't even face death without cowering like a child.

The silence echoed out far too loud.

"Akaza."

Akaza knew that voice. Haikuji knew that voice.

It was nothing like Muzan's. The void fled from that voice. It was an explosion of color and light, fireworks exploded overhead and a cold wind blew, blinding him for a moment as he took in her visage.