Ink Stained

32: death god, death god, let us play*

死神、死神、私たちが遊んでみよう

Shin froze, his hand fisted in the collar of Yuu's kimono and one blade kissing his throat. A thin line of red trailed down from where the sharp edge of the katana pressed just hard enough into Yuu's neck to make him bleed. If she had been a second too late, Yuu would have died.

Yuu was barely conscious by this point. The tip of his tachi dragged on the ground as he stubbornly held on to it in his limp hand. Half of his face was covered in the blood dripping down from a gash on his temple, and what skin wasn't bloodied up was purple and blue with blossoming bruises and scrapes decorating his face, neck, and arms.

His eyes were half-closed, as if he had resigned himself to his face to die at the hands of Shin. When he heard her voice they widened, as his shocked gaze fell on her. They were red, but traces of his brown were fading in, as if his Makashi was dwindling away.

She couldn't believe Shin had managed to do this to him.

"Pai –" his voice croaked with pain she could almost feel herself. "What're you – "

He didn't get any further than that. Shin drew back his arm, twisting his wrist and bringing the hilt of his katana down on Yuu's neck. Pai yelped when it made contact with a sickening thud, her hands darting up to cover her mouth in an aborted attempt to keep the sound in.

Shin released him and Yuu slumped to the ground. Pai stared at him wide-eyed, every part of her frozen in fear that Shin had just outright killed him. But no – he was alive, barely, his chest rising and falling in breaths. He was just knocked out cold.

For a moment, Shin simply looked down at the unconscious figure of Yuu lying at his feet. Then he straightened his back, raised his head, and looked right at her.

In the silence within the Torimaku, she thought she could have heard a pin drop, if not for the blood rushing to her head, the thumping of her heart beating so hard in her chest, the rustle of her pyjamas as she took an involuntary step back. Pai lost her breath as she met the blaze of Shin's red eyes.

He was so angry – it was a punch to her stomach to know, to see so clearly, that that anger was directed solely at her now. Perhaps he already knew what she was planning to do now that she knew his true name. Maybe he was going to kill her, end it before she could do anything –

"You..." Shin's lips pulled back over his teeth in a snarl.

She had to force herself to remember that this wasn't Shin, but Shinigami – his Makashi. It was hard. It was – it was his face, but it wasn't him there, right now, looking at her like he wanted to see her lying broken and bloody at his feet too.

He sheathed his katanas in the dual sheathes strapped to his back as he turned to her fully. His body was lithe, and strong, it was obvious just looking at him. She felt like she was facing a black panther more than the man whose darkest aspect had been given a body to roam free in.

"Where did you get that name?" he asked, voice a low growl that sent chills down her spine.

"Shin-san – "

He didn't give her a chance to say more. In a moment, his form blurred in front of her, and she was thrown back against the wall of the force-field with Shin's hand wrapped around her throat, squeezing. The Torimaku, so hot when she had passed through it minutes ago, was now a wall of ice at her back that burned in its frigid touch.