A LOT OF CHANGES WERE MADE TO THIS CHAPTER. They don't actually affect the plot, but they give a lot more detail and coherency. Thanks to dnei, Uphill Both Ways, and Maydn for the concrit 3. Hopefully this fixes the lack of suspense/forced feel of this chapter.
Thanks for your patience guys, and the kind comments and advice on the writing style!
Enjoy!
The Heart Between Us - Ch. 2
Shizuo comes to face down on the ground, and by this time, the smell of death and decay is so strong that he clamps down a hand over his mouth to force down the urge to gag. He gets to his feet heavily, and looks at the remains of his village, his home. Somewhere underneath the rubble, his parents' corpses lie, unburied. But then his fingers brush against the lump in his pocket where the pouch is, and he remembers. He has no time to bestow upon them the proper rites. He bows once, deeply, thanks them for his life and his brother's and turns around, walking out of his village without another glance back.
Kasuka is out there, waiting for him.
o-o
He stops at the next river he finds, one he had come upon multiple times on hunting trips with his father. It is wider than a stone's throw, but shallow enough that he can cross it without difficulty. Shizuo stops at the edge, watching the eddies of water twirl and weave between rocks and branches, carrying away stray leaves. He takes the pouch out of his pocket, soft velvety leather rubbing against his palm, and wades to a deep pool created by the current accumulating against a particularly large rock near the edge. He sets the pouch safely on the stone and dunks himself in the water, ignoring the cold and watching the layers of dirt and grime and blood stain the water brown and almost immediately dissolve in the current.
He strips all of his clothes off, rubbing them methodically against each other to clean them, and once the water doesn't come away dirty, he lays them on the rock to dry. Shizuo looks down at himself, the clear water allowing him to see all the way down to his toes, buried in the current-smoothened pebbles of the riverbed. His white skin is flecked with yellowish bruises and half-healed cuts that he picks at. There is a red mark over his heart, as if he'd been burned, on the exact spot that the creature placed his hand. He thinks, with the first inkling of wariness, about what it means to have half a heart and then stops. It doesn't matter. What good is a heart without Kasuka anyway? He does wonder, however, if his heart has stopped, now that it has been cut in half.
But when Shizuo puts his hand over the mark, he feels his heartbeat. Once. Twice. Thrice.
He takes stock of himself again and realizes that he feels no different. Aside from the mark and the pouch, there are no signs left of that encounter. Shizuo scoffs, having deep down expected nothing less, despite his sliver of hope. Gods do not exist, and taking half of someone's heart is impossible. If Shizuo truly were missing half a heart, he's fairly sure he would not be standing here right now.
And yet he is.
Something settles on top of his stomach, a cold, heavy stone that weighs it down and makes it hurt. He does not know himself well enough to be able to label it as disappointment.
o-o
He still has the pouch, though.
Out of curiosity, he takes it and opens it, eyeing the shimmery powder inside with a frown. It looks too valuable to be given out freely, but Shizuo feels the blood pumping through his veins and knows he still has a heart. So what did the man, the creature with the odd clothes and the devil's smile, get?
o-o
He decides to faithfully follow the instructions given to him, since the worst that can happen to him is that he remains as he is, and even as he is, he will fight for Kasuka. He washes himself with the powder, rubbing it into his skin and his hair, and despite the small amount, it seems to cover his entire body, a layer of shimmery warmth and strength. Shizuo feels it sinking into his bones, becoming light-headed with the sensation. He swipes it off his skin and scrubs it out of his hair, watching the shimmery water that runs off his body swirl into the current and disappear.
He rubs his eyes and blinks to get the water out of them, and catches a splash of gold. He looks closer, standing still until the ripples fade away, and it takes him a moment to realize the young boy looking at him with hair as bright as the sun is him.
He stares at his reflection, frowning at it but not bothering to reach up and touch it, and then shakes his head. He has wasted enough time on this. He takes his clothes off the rock, even though they are not dry yet, and slides them on, letting them stick to his skin and allowing the sun and wind to dry them.
o-o
He travels for three days and nights without stopping. His body feels hunger and thirst and fatigue, but it does not succumb to those needs. He has always been a rather single-minded person, but now his body follows along as well, ignoring all else in order to get to his goal.
o-o
Shizuo is not the kind of person who questions things. His life is composed of things that matter and things that don't. But it infuriates him when the two realms cross: Kasuka, the things that matters the most to him, and something that didn't matter at all to him, such as the war between two negligent, power-hungry lords. Shizuo never cared about the war – they were in neutral territory, after all, so it should not have involved them. But what are a few villages and a handful of lives in the power-struggle of the rich?
o-o
Following the wreckage that the ravaging troupes leave in their wake leads him to a castle, well-guarded and protected by a stone wall that looms over him. Shizuo looks up at it as the mesmerized wind ruffles his sun-kissed locks.
A guard catches sight of him and yells at him, most likely something trivial about leaving and minding his own business, but Shizuo doesn't bother listening. He looks around, sees a tree, tall and gnarled and of incredible hardness, and wraps his hands around the trunk as best he as he can. Then he pulls, and though he feels his muscles screaming, and thinks that the sound makes it out of his mouth as well, he manages to uproot the tree, pulling it out of the ground like pulling dough apart, dirt raining down from the roots and stray leaves and sticks and a bird's nest falling from the branches.
He swings at the stunned guards, and then rams down the front gates.
o-o
He sprints through the hallways, between the massive array of buildings and bridges and gardens inside the castle walls, hearing shouts and cries of an intruder, but no one is expecting a small child, not with the gate splintered and destroyed, and in the chaos of mobilizing their soldiers and guards, he is overlooked. He runs and runs, looking for any signs of prisoner barracks, any signs of Kasuka, crossing courtyards and tearing open shoji doors.
A guard catches sight of him, an unknown child with unnatural gold hair that gives him away immediately, and lunges at him. Shizuo stumbles and skids to a stop, taking hold of the guard's arm and flinging him away. He disappears over a roof top and Shizuo stares at the spot and then back at his hands. Then he shakes his head and keeps on running.
He finally thinks he's found them, near the back of the immense compound, at the corner of the castle walls: a small building with flat, wide windows. They're too high up for him to peek in through, but he can smell the stench, thick with fear and uncertainty and body odors never meant to stew in one place for so long.
The door splinters when he kicks the lock in, and sunlight floods into the dusty darkness inside. His chest heaves, blood pounding in his ears at the thought of Kasuka in one of these cells, and he dashes to them one by one, looking for him. They're all filled with huddled forms who cringe at his steps and press against the wall in fear, mistaking him for a guard.
Shizuo's throat closes up when he finds him, huddled in one of the dark cells towards the back. There are mothers, faces hardened into a cracking semblance of confidence for the children they hold tightly in their arms, and young girls rocking back and forth against the wall, holding back soft sobs and pressing their legs tight together.
There is Kasuka, in one corner, arms wrapped around his knees and eyes staring into nothingness. At the sight of him, Shizuo feels a rush of anger, of fear—something is missing though— and he thinks If they've done anything, I swear— I swear I'll kill them!
"Kasuka!" he screams, pulling apart the metals bars. Kasuka's head jerks up, and the light bleeds back into his wide, deadened eyes as he sees his brother stepping into the cell.
"Brother…" Kasuka whispers, eyes suspiciously wet, hands beginning to shake, and Shizuo drops to his knees in front of him, and they grab each other's hands like there's nothing else that can keep them alive, gripping so tightly it hurts, but neither wants to let go, ever. He's overwhelmed to see Kasuka's face, to have him back, but Shizuo can't put his finger on what's off about the feeling.
"Kasuka," Shizuo breathes, and that's when he notices the ropes tied around his ankle, chafing the tender skin underneath, and tries to quell the anger bubbling in him, "Wait," he murmurs, reaching out and tugging at it, snapping the thick rope as if it were no more than a loose thread on his clothing. He straightens up and walks around the cell, slowly in order to accommodate Kasuka, who follows him on unsteady feet with his hand fisted tightly around on Shizuo's shirt, and sets all the other women free as well. Some of them are from their village, and stare at him in amazement and confusion, and maybe a hint of fear.
A stampede of footsteps rushes in towards them from outside, amongst calls and cries and the sounds of war and threats. Their heads all turn as one towards the sounds, some women begin crying anew, others break into the low murmur of panicked prayer, but they're all looking to Shizuo like he's either the one about to get the killed, or about to save them. Shizuo grits his teeth and pushes Kasuka a little to the side, carefully so as not to disrupt the hold he has on his shirt, then fists his hand and reaches back as far as he can.
He punches the wall through which the outside of the castle lies, crumbling it to nothing, grabs Kasuka's hand and runs.
o-o
They run for hours, until sunset, until they're sure that they've escaped and no one has bothered chasing so far after a handful of fugitives, and all the while Shizuo fights the nagging thought that something is off, something is incomplete, missing.
Finally, they stop at the side of a stream, twilight veiling the underbrush and canopy of green above them into dim, blurry shapes. The women collapse onto the ground, all faint and breathing heavily, some having been forced to carry their infant children. Kasuka is pale and shaking, but he hasn't let go of Shizuo's hand once, though the way he sways on his feet belies his exhaustion. Shizuo realizes belatedly that they probably haven't fed him, but he has no food on him either. The best he can do for him now is to tug him carefully, guiding him towards the rippling stream, and kneel him on the sandy bank to get some water. He watches as Kasuka dips his face in the water and begins drinking, and when he's done, leaning back with relief painting color back into his cheeks, kneels down to the bank to get his own share.
The water is refreshingly cool on his heated palms, and he splashes some first on his face, gasping at the cold, and then greedily begins drinking, cupping handful after handful of water in his hands and gulping it down, his body clamoring for more after days of denying itself food or water. He drinks without any sort of restraint until his stomach feels bloated, like an unsteady balloon about to burst.
When he tries to stand up, his body finally registers the limits it has surpassed, and his vision suddenly spins wildly, the vertigo threatening to upturn his sloshing stomach. He moans softly as his muscles suddenly go slack and he collapses, not even staying conscious long enough to feel his head hit the ground.
o-o
He wakes to the steady, repetitive feel of fingers brushing through his hair. He thinks at first Mother? but then he opens his eyes and realizes he's lying on grass, not thick enough to disguise the hardness of the earth and roots below him. The soothing motion pauses as he blinks a few times in a vain attempt to dispel sleep.
"I'm sorry, brother… did I wake you?"
Shizuo glances to his side to see Kasuka curled up against him and to see the glimpses of the noon-high sun peeking through the leaves of the tree shading them. The stream gurgles steadily next to them, and he can hear the chatter of voices around them, the village women making food, no doubt. Kasuka's eyes are sleepy-looking as always, as neutral as his quiet voice, but his legs are curled up against his chest and he still has his fingers hooked on Shizuo's sleeve.
"It's fine," Shizuo mutters, still too tired to stretch, and so the blanket of grogginess stays swathed about him. Kasuka nods slightly, small hand reaching out to sift through his hair again.
"Brother… how did your hair get like this?"
It takes him a moment to understand the question, but then he frowns slightly, toes curling as he looks down and plucks a single blade of grass from the ground, rubbing it between his fingers. He'd forgotten about everything for a moment, somehow deluding himself into believing this was any other sleepy afternoon near the village, with supper a few hours away and the harvest season approaching fast. But when he glances back up, he sees Kasuka's swollen, chafed wrist and the strands of straw-blond hair brushing against the red skin, and grits his teeth.
"There was a …" he doesn't know what to call him, so he settles for the simple, "a man. He gave me this hair," he digs his fingers into the ground and scratches out a clump of dirt, sifting it through his fingers, and adds, "And he made me strong."
Kasuka's eyes are wide, "Strong?"
Shizuo nods, looking straight at him with the innocent straightforwardness of a child, "Strong enough to save you, Kasuka."
Kasuka lowers his eyes, silent for a moment, and then he presses himself closer, burying his little face in the bony crook of Shizuo's elbow and holding onto Shizuo's sleeve even tighter, whispering, "I was scared. I thought I'd never see you again. But then you appeared. And I was so happy, brother, I thought I was going to cry."
Shizuo freezes halfway through putting his arms around Kasuka. He lets his arms fall back to his sides and stares at the silhouetted leaves above him, blinded by the thin rays of sunlight breaking through the branches. He realizes now what's been off since he saw Kasuka.
He should be happy to have Kasuka back. He should be smiling and relieved—
But Shizuo can't feel anything except the simmer of anger and a bubbling restlessness.
o-o
In exchange, I will take half of your heart.
o-o
So I hope I've made you curious about what's going to happen next ;) And yes, our dearest Izaya will come in next chapter. And if anything felt off or not developed enough or not suspenseful enough, please let me know!