Chapter 3

Although it was only early afternoon by the time they arrived at the inn, Hakkai simply asked for a single room and some dry staples of bread and cheese before they both climbed the stairs to a familiarly simple sort of room. Gojyo was talking again. Not much, and not naturally, but talking. Arguing, even.

There had been a brief discussion outside the bathroom about who was going to wash up first, with Hakkai finally winning on obduracy alone. Gojyo twitched up a corner of his mouth in something resembling the smirk he used when he really meant thank-you as he slipped out of his cloak and into small room, sliding the door closed behind him. The click the latch made sounded very final as he looked around, trying to decide between the sink and the shower.

Both. He decided. But the sink first. Hakkai had stopped at a river so that they could wash up somewhat, and to make Gojyo choke down something resembling dinner, but the swiftly moving water had been frothing in ways that promised death to anyone who tried to bathe in its waters. As a result, Gojyo still couldn't shake the feel of blood on his arms and body. He turned on the hot water tap and waited a moment for the water to heat before forcing his hands under the flow. He watched vaguely as the clear liquid took on a rusty tint from the combination of travel dirt and blood traces washing from his hands. He still thought Hakkai should have gone first. Hakkai had killed at least three people. He had only...

...he had only killed one. After promising her that he'd protect her, he had become the tool that had brought about her death. Gojyo balked, hands still pressed under the running water, now clear of blood, and pressed his head heavily against the cool wall in front of him. She had trusted him, and he had done as much as pull the trigger. With a shuddering sigh, Gojyo straightened, turning to start the shower. As he did, something caught his eye, and he froze.

Red. The target. The perfect thing to sight on.

Red. Purple. The mistake he'd made. The reason they couldn't hide. The reason she'd lost her life.

It was him. His defining characteristic. The thing that made him what he was. Whatever the fuck that was. As surely as if he'd handed her over to those hunting them, he'd killed her. The very nature of what he was, was why she was dead. And staring back at him from the damn mirror. Venomously, staring, literally, with a shocked look on its face, as though it couldn't believe that he'd figured it out. Himself. Everything that he was, and everything that he'd ever be. Half. Red. Bloodstained. Kin-slayer and murderer of innocents.

"DAMNIT!" He screamed suddenly, and before he was even sure what he was doing, his hand had raised, crashing through the mirror. Shattering the reflection down the middle. A fist-sized hole through his forehead, and a long crack down the left side of his face, dividing his mouth in two, a strange parody of a cheeky smirk. Somewhere in the background, he heard a concerned exclamation of his name on the other side of the door, but he ignored it, still staring at his reflection, watching numbly as blood began trickling from him hand, down the crack. More red. Every. Fucking. Where. He pulled his hand back uncaring as his flesh snagged on jagged glass, and smashed it through the mirror again. This time, it fell from the wall and shattered, and fifty shards of red and purple stared up at him from the floor. At the top, one was still large enough to reflect his face, the mirror still determined to torture him, and Gojyo fell to his knees, grabbing the stupid, damnable, taunting piece of glass, unmindful of sharp edges, not even feeling when it cut into his hand, and throwing it against the wall. The smaller shards were cutting into his knees, the ones around him taunting, teasing, daring him to do something about them, too.

Gojyo heard the door slam open, was pretty sure the latch broke, and Hakkai didn't sound so much concerned as utterly dismayed as he asked what was wrong.

"I killed her," Gojyo replied, honestly. "This," he gestured to his face, and to the dozens reflected in the glass around him. "Killed her."

"Okay." Hakkai said softly, not denying it. Walking up slowly. "And the mirror deserved to die for this why?"

"I...it wouldn't, won't, stop showing me my mistake. It's still doing it. Only there's more, now"

"Yes." Patient. Quietly. Low. Just conversation. Nothing more. "That happens when you smash a mirror, Gojyo. You get more reflections."

A hand descended on his shoulder, and still Gojyo didn't look away, still staring at the red staring back at him. "It won't stop, Hakkai."

"Okay. Can I try?"

"You can make me go away?"

Hakkai winced, unable to hide his response to that particular question. "I can make that go away." He replied softly.

"No you can't. I have to do it." Gojyo said, and reached out for another one of the pieces, ready to dash it against the wall with the other. Shatter them all, no matter the pain. Hakkai's hand caught him by the wrist, pulling it back, holding it tightly.

"It's not fair if you don't at least let me help." Hakkai replied softly, and then Gojyo felt the hand at his shoulder pulling him back, firmly, and then Hakkai's other hand released his wrist, and moved to his face, forced his head to turn, and long fingers were covering his eyes, cutting off the world and leaving him in blessed darkness. Gojyo shuddered, trying to escape for a moment, and Hakkai refused, holding him tightly. Trapped under the determined strength, Gojyo deflated, feeling a rush of nausea and emotion as he flopped down, feeling Hakkai's chest at his back, supporting him.

"See?" Hakkai whispered after a pause.

"Hakkai?"

"Yes?"

"My hand hurts like a bitch, and I can't quite tell what direction I'm facing, so I'm going to pass out now."

"...Alright."