I'm not really sure where I'm going with this. This might be the only Yami no Matsuei drabble I ever write, or I might suddenly come up with half a dozen. Anyways, enjoy.
I don't own Yami no Matsuei, in any way, shape, or form.
Oh, and also? Character death warning.
Vigil for a Dying Man
There could be trouble. The Ministry was expecting it. They sent him to stand vigil, not trusting to the witness of a single candle.
He stands and watches as an old man struggles to sit up in bed to face him, loose folds of white yukata around looser folds of wrinkled weakened flesh. Hisoka doesn't speak, but he knows there's nothing worse he could do than this, no revenge he could have sought after his death that would have been as sharp or as painful. Just waiting until this day was enough. He wants this man to see him as he dies.
All the same, he feels a pang of sadness. Muraki was never supposed to grow old.
The old man gasps weakly for breath. He tries to say something, but Hisoka doesn't want to hear him speak. Instead he leans forwards, and puts out the light.