Title: Headshot
Written: March 11 2018
Characters: Yukio Okumura
Summary: Yukio gets shot in the head and has an epiphany about how he treated Rin. Not all epiphanies are good though. Spoilers for chapter 97.
Notes: I've written a number of little fics in the last two months that I'm only now getting around to posting on this site. I posted this one first on tumblr, so if it looks familiar, that's why.


"Damn," muttered Yukio. Despite his improved balance, hearing and movement since awakening his own demon power, he was still too slow! The team of exorcists had ambushed him while he was alone. He wasn't ready for this fight. Even with his senses amplified, he had a hard time keeping up with the new information. The time for him to process the information had completely eroded his advantage.

The mid-tier exorcist he faced took advantage of that, directing their team to bob in and out of the trees. That forced Yukio to fight on the defensive, having to balance between dodging and tracking where they were. He grit his teeth in frustration. Trying to break the stalemate, he attempted to get distance from the team. He moved backwards, but ran into someone. He turned to face the business end of a gun barrel.

The air split with the sound. He saw the bullet, and was knocked against the ground.

What… The shock through his skull echoed deep in his mind. Blood ran down his forehead, down his throat. The knowledge seared into his mind from years of training recognized it. A killing shot. Brainstem impact. Fatal.

He coughed up blood, paralyzed by the pain. He couldn't believe how much it hurt. Part of him was in denial, not even believing what had just happened.

Dead. He was dead.

At the edge of his vision, he saw the exorcists drawing closer, voices whispering. (He was dead.) He'd been an exorcist long enough to already know what they were saying. (He was dead.) He'd once asked the same things. Had they won? Could they capture the enemy? Was that really all it took to kill a demon of this class?

He was...

(Demon.)

Not dead?

(Demon.)

A... human would be dead now. Why... why was he thinking that? What did it matter?

He was not dead (human).

Was that it? Did part of him want to die here, let the exorcists kill him? That part of him… still vainly wanted to be human to the bitter end?

Insane, violent rage bubbled to the surface of his mind, at the laughable impossible wish to remain weak. He'd willingly thrown away his humanity the day he turned his back on Rin.

His turned his palm against the ground, generating a ring of blue fire around him. The exorcists jumped back, panicked gunshots ricocheting across the area.

He wasn't dying.

He wasn't human.

Just like Rin. Just like he'd always wanted.

He dragged himself upwards to sit in the circle. He raised his left hand to feel his forehead, touching the ripped and torn flesh at the entry wound. The blood flowing from the headshot caught in his throat, and he made a strange noise.

And this… this was what he'd done to Rin, wasn't it?

The choking noise gave way to laughter. The fire raged outwards, beyond the range of his control. The spasmodic hysterics and roar of flames drowned out the yelling of his assailants.

"I get it, Rin!"

The maniacal declaration was full of triumph and hate all the same. He understood now. Rin's fury, the tears... He'd just stood there, ambivalent. Silent and tolerant, ready to accept the necessary cost for his own power. He'd just made someone else suffer for his own sake. So this pain, this retribution… he deserved it all.

The bullet strafing his arm broke his reverie. He faced the Dragoon exorcist and walked towards him. He felt the gunfire strike across his body, but he didn't care. He'd accepted that was the price.

The Dragoon fired again, and again, and again until the weapon could only click, no ammunition left. Yukio's hand wrapped around the gunman's wrist and took the weapon. The Dragoon squirmed in his grasp, trying to run, but couldn't escape.

The gun was familiar in Yukio's hand. He raised it to his enemy's chest. "I'm sorry," he said as he closed his eyes. He focused the power down into the form most familiar to him.

He hated himself. That wasn't going to change. But hesitation was weakness. As was regret.

An otherworldly gunshot echoed, and the exorcist fell.