There was something about the name "Beloved".
For so long, Agatsuma had been under the reasonable assumption that it was Seimei alone whose voice bound him with infinite and unquestionable authority. It was simply the logical thing to suppose; he had always known but one master. No other voice caused such a violent tremor in his spine, as though electrified icy fingers were dragging their sharpened nails through his flesh. He never thought he'd ever hear a voice half as chilling as Seimei's.
And then, Nisei arrived.
With a soft, feminine face framed by long, flowing raven hair, Nisei hardly seemed threatening. His slim frame looked breakable, delicate. His features all conveyed gentleness and meekness to their fullest extent.
Where did his voice derive such power?
"Bleed."
Voice dripping like venom. A command. Not like he could disobey, anyway. Not with a whip crashing against his back for at least the tenth time in a row.
"I'm orders from Seimei, you know," chirped the friendly voice of Soubi's aggressor. "I'm the one that he gives orders to now. But, you can rest at ease. He still cares enough to make sure you're beaten every now and then." A satisfied smile twisted its way onto Nisei's lips as he watched Soubi shudder with pain.
And for some reason, Soubi felt more content than he had in a long time.
It had been far too long since a black-haired boy with a cruel smile had beaten him so ruthlessly. It felt fitting, as though the world were finally in order again after an extended holiday in chaos. Soubi choked out some semblance of a laugh.
"Such soft hands, to be dealing such blows," he rasped, his voice an echo of amusement and pain.
"Merely tools of deceit," Nisei chimed back.
"Like you? A tool?"
"…I'm more than a tool. I'm not like you, Soubi."
"Are you sure?"
Nisei's slight pause was all Soubi needed to know he'd struck a chord.
"Take it from one tool to another," he said again, talking to defer another lash from the whip, "You're worthless unless you're useful."
Nisei's dark eyes narrowed, and he cracked the whip again at Soubi's back, adding another line of crimson to his flesh. "We'll see who's worthless."
"We're both worthless," Soubi gasped, reeling from the pain. "We are nothing, Nisei. Both of us are empty shells if we're without Seimei!"
"Shut up!" Nisei shrieked, cracking the whip yet again.
Soubi's knees buckled beneath him, and he fell to his knees. His body ached, begging him to be silent. Just what the hell are you trying to do? He asked of himself, at a loss. Yet…some higher part of him would not allow him to be quiet.
He blamed it on that name.
Beloved.
Perhaps some dormant fighter unit instinct drew him to anyone who shared his name. It made no sense—Nisei was, after all, a Fighter as well. The blind devotion that comes from sharing a name should only apply to a fighter and sacrifice…but then, it wasn't often that a sacrifice was given two fighters. Was it natural for him to feel this way?
He knew only that he wanted to be with Nisei always. As much as his body was wrought with pain, he was savoring every second in his presence.
Soubi placed two hands on the ground, clenching his teeth and bracing himself for another blow. What came instead were two thin arms, wrapping themselves around Soubi in a tight embrace.
Scarlet stained Nisei's white shirt, but dry-cleaning was the furthest thing from his mind. He hid his face in an astonished Soubi's neck, laying his cheek against the carving of the name they both shared.
"I want to have worth," Nisei mumbled, "Why is it that we, with a name such as ours, should go more thirsty for love than any other?"
"I've come to realize that all names are sick and ironic. Most are given names that describe the opposite of a person," Soubi said quietly, still somewhat confused at the exchange of a pain for gentleness.
"I'm tired of living a name that doesn't define me."
"…Then let's define the name ourselves."
A soft brushing of lips ensued, sparking the redefinition of a word that once implied its antonym.
Merry Christas, Rei~
Rae r love you lots, kay?