Warnings for blood/gore.
Crimson was all he could see out of one eye. Shaka wasn't sure if permanent damage had been done, or if the cut had merely bled so much it had obscured his vision. Either way, with his one good eye he did all he could to glare at the man standing over him.
"You bastard," he spat violently. "I told you already, I'm with you."
Saga's face was implacable. "Two of my men ended up behind bars because of you."
He'd opened with that line earlier, right before he'd punched Shaka solidly in the gut. The ensuing fight left Shaka bloodied and beaten, and two of Saga's cronies dead. Shaka responded with what he would have the first time had he been given the chance, "I did, and kept four others on the streets in the process."
Saga's expression didn't change. "You toe the line very nicely between both sides of the law." Despite the dark look on his face, Saga's voice sounded almost impressed. Of course he would sound impressed, it was the whole reason Saga bothered keeping him around. "But I'm tired of you playing both sides. Are you with us or not?"
"Dammit Saga," Shaka's voice was coming out raggedly. The blood from his wounded eye was dripping down past his chin now, splattering the ground beneath him. The ache in his chest suggested that he had at least one broken rib, and though his shoulder ached like there was no tomorrow, he was pretty sure it wasn't dislocated. "What did I just tell you? What have I been telling you again and again?"
"Prove it."
Between laboured breaths Shaka glanced around, buying for time as he tried to find some kind of out. The movement in his right eye caused the wound to sting further but he ignored it. His gaze landed on the scar on Saga's arm. Tucked just below the inside of his left elbow were the twin bands encased by curved lines that made up the mark of a Gemini. All members of The Gold Sinners had their Zodiac sign carved somewhere into their body. It was a sign of dedication to the gang, one you couldn't rid yourself of after you'd made your choice. Shaka himself had never done so. His usefulness to Saga had revolved around the fact that he wouldn't be noticed as a member of the gang. Apparently Saga had begun to question his worth, dedication or both.
Shaka gritted his teeth in a snarl, and spat out some blood that had leaked into his mouth from the still seeping wound over his eye. "Give me the knife," he said, his voice hard and cold.
It might have seemed an odd request to someone he'd just received a beating from. Not many people would give a weapon to someone they clearly had at their mercy, but Shaka wasn't surprised when Saga didn't even hesitate to kick the sharp blade across the ground. Shaka reached out to cover the hilt with his hand.
He didn't take a breath to steady himself. He didn't glance at the knife, contemplating what he was about to do. Shaka didn't hesitate at all.
A searing pain burned across his face as he dug the edge of the blade into the skin around his already throbbing eye. He didn't flinch at the pain, didn't grunt or cry out as he dragged the blade across his skin, slicing through tender flesh as if it were no thicker than water. Red crimson gave way to a void of black and still Shaka did not react. As calmly as if he were carving a piece of meat, Shaka sliced the blade through his own skin, carving the sign of the Virgo over his eye.
A few quick clean cuts was all it took, and it was done. Saga, who had watched the whole ordeal silently, grunted when Shaka flung the knife back towards his feet, trapping the blade easily under the toe of his boot.
Shaka lifted his head up to fix Saga with a hard stare from his one good eye. Blood was now running down the right side of his face in thick streams, and pooling on the ground beneath him. His voice was calm and collected, with just a tinge of ice in it as he challenged Saga , "Have I proven myself yet?"