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Before My Very Eyes (Chapter 8)
🕑 Added 2024-10-25 20:56:07 +0000 UTCThe laughter was a jagged thing, raw and unrestrained, like a creature that had forgotten how to be human. It clawed its way out of his throat, wild and hollow, a sound too eager, too sharp—like the snap of bones under teeth as he ripped the arm of the person whose throat he had crushed beneath his heel.
His hair, a dark, matted mess streaked with dried blood, stuck to his face, slick with sweat and something more foul.
His eyes glittered in the low light of the burning village, alive with a frenetic energy.
Then, something flickered in his expression—a faint recognition, like a wolf catching the scent of something familiar. He cocked his head to the side, his tongue lolling over cracked lips.
“Ehhhhhh???
BOOM!!
The air exploded around him before he could react, the force of my shinra tensei-enhanced punch hitting him like a thunderclap. His body folded inward, limbs snapping like matchsticks as he hurtled backward, a ragdoll tossed through the wreckage of a world he had set ablaze. He smashed through walls, splinters of wood exploding in his wake, scattering like shrapnel through the night.
Still, mid-fall, he twisted like a cat, body contorting unnervingly, before landing in a crouch, far from where I'd launched him. Light as a whisper, the tips of his toes skimming the dirt with unsettling grace.
I stood panting, my breath ragged and burning in my chest. My fists ached from the impact, an ache I could feel in my bones, the exhaustion creeping in, dragging at the edges of my strength. Every part of me screamed for rest, for rest from these unending battles. But I was afforded no such respite.
He stood across from me, grin wide and bloody, lips peeled back in a grotesque parody of joy. His robe, once pristine, was now a tattered mess, soaked through with blood—his own and others’. The dark, sticky fluid dripped from the hem, pooling at his feet, thickening the rancid scent of death that clung to him. His eyes gleamed, too bright, too alive. They sparkled with something far beyond sanity.
“Hagoromo! You came!” he cried, voice sing-song, bright with childish glee.
“What have you done?!” I snarled, the words raw with emotions that scraped the very edges of my throat. Rage, disbelief twisting together in my chest.
He blinked at me, eyes wide with feigned innocence, before glancing around as if only now realizing the devastation. Corpses littered the ground, twisted and mangled, piled like discarded refuse. Limbs, severed and strewn about, painted the earth in shades of crimson. Fires raged, consuming what little remained of the village in their ravenous embrace.
“Oh? I see you like what I’ve done with the pl-“. But then his smile faltered. He looked down at the sight of his own arms twisted, hanging unnaturally, the bones shattered from the force of my attack.
“Ah,” he muttered, with a nonchalant shrug. “This is new.”
With a sickening series of cracks, his arms began to realign themselves, bones snapping back into place. The moment stretched, grotesque and unnerving, as he flexed his newly-healed fingers, rolling his wrists like he was testing them for the first time. Then, that same smile—wide, bloody, and unhinged—returned.
“Oh, Hagoromo,” he whispered, voice low and thick, sticky with mock affection. “How I’ve missed you.”
Rage boiled in my veins, threatening to burst free from my skin. This was madness—a sickness. It clung to him, bled from him, twisting every word that dripped from his mouth.
I took a step forward, fists trembling at my sides. “What justification could you possibly have for this?” My voice cracked under the weight of fury and disbelief. “What in the world could make this butchery acceptable?”
His head tilted again, sharp and unnatural. A predator’s tilt. “Justification?” He tasted the word, rolling it on his tongue like a strange fruit. "Tell me, Hagoromo..." His voice dropped, the softness of it sharp enough to cut. "Were these not the same people who helped you create the seals that held me? Are these not the ones who bound me, locked me away, and stood beside you while you did it?"
He stepped closer, the firelight dancing along his gaunt features, casting jagged shadows across his blood-streaked face. “They pressed their hands on the very seals that chained me—helped you build the walls of my prison.” His eyes glinted, alive with something bitter and ancient. "And now you ask me for justification?"
He chuckled, low and broken, like glass grinding underfoot. "They should be greatful they have received the mercy of death.”
“But truly, Hagoromo...” He stepped closer, his grin sharpening at the edges, the firelight catching the glint of his teeth. “I missed you.”
There was something disturbingly genuine in the way he said it.
“You...” I hissed, disbelief heavy in my words. “This was all to draw me here?”
“I wanted your attention, Hagoromo. You’ve been ignoring me. I heard you, the sounds of your battle.” His smile widened, eyes glinting with twisted glee. “The roar of your rage. Even from my prison, Hagoromo... I felt it. Every blow. Every scream. Every ounce of power you threw against her." The fire glinted against his blood-streaked face, teeth flashing in the night. "The rage. It echoed through the seals, rattled the chains you forged for me.”
His voice dropped into a low rasp, thick with satisfaction, like a serpent curling tighter around its prey. “It was beautiful, Hagoromo.“
“It was sad that it had to be with her”
The venom in his voice as he spat the last word was considerable. Behind him, the village burned, the flickering flames painting his gaunt face in a dance of light and shadow. His cheeks, hollowed and smeared with blood, caught the firelight, casting eerie patterns over his too-bright eyes.
"You made the world remember her, you know," he said softly, "The clans will turn that battle into legend. They'll worship your triumph. Your sacrifice." His eyes darkened, a glint of something old and bitter gleaming in their depths. "They'll talk about the woman who almost swallowed the world whole.
The fires crackled in time with his words, like the earth itself conspired to keep him talking. Embers swirled around his head, kissing his matted hair, as though the flames knew they belonged to him. The air stank of charred wood, blood, and something sickly sweet—rotting
“Kaguya Otsutsuki.” He spat the name like a curse. “The woman who brought the heavens crashing down... and you put a ball in the sky for her. A monument.” His eyes glittered, sharp and unkind. “Just for her.”
“But me?" His grin widened, and this time, the humor in it was dark. "For me, there was only waiting. Only silence." He flexed his hands again, fingers curling inward until his knuckles cracked like old wood splitting under pressure.
"Do you know what silence does, Hagoromo? It eats you. Hollows you out”
"You forgot me” His voice was soft, almost childlike, but his eyes glittered with something sharp, something angry. “Like a relic.”
Then his fingers dug into his scalp, pulling at the matted mess of his hair, twisting until blood mingled with the dried tangles. "You know,” he hissed “that’s not how it works, Hagoromo. Not for me. Not for us.”
He stepped closer, and the shadows seemed to shift with him, pulled toward the madness simmering just beneath his skin. "If you must rage, if you must scream yourself hoarse with fury and pain for the world to hear, it should be my name you're howling."
His voice dropped into something darker, the low murmur of a curse spoken between clenched teeth. "Not hers.”
The village burned. Only the sound of wood crackling under the heat remained, each pop and hiss a quiet reminder of what had been lost. The sharp scent of ash clawed at my throat, bitter and clinging. The wind carried embers, sparks that drifted lazily through the smoke-heavy air before extinguishing in silence.
And in that silence, I stood still—stunned. Not just from the wreckage laid out before me, but from the madness that had just spilled from his mouth.
He stood there, chest rising and falling, his expression slack now, as if exhaling all that rage and bitterness had left him hollow. The eerie grin that lingered on his face moments ago had softened—not into anything kinder, but into something stranger. A twisted contentment, maybe. Like a man who had finally cracked open a wound too long festering and found relief in the sting.
My fists remained clenched at my sides, knuckles white. The weight of his words hung heavy in the air between us, sharp as shattered glass.
“Still,” he began again, voice slow, thick with something that might’ve been amusement or resentment, “I have to be thankful to your mother.” His smile twitched, almost fond. “She... who tainted the sage.”
A flush of shame burned across my skin, unbidden. The heat spread from my face to my chest, knotting there, a dull ache that pulsed beneath my ribs. I hated that he saw it—caught the way the color rose and marked me, like a scar I couldn’t hide.
He chuckled, catching my weakness. “You feel it, don’t you?” He leaned closer, just enough to let the words curl against the space between us. “The shame. The guilt. All that righteousness you wore like armor—where is it now, Hagoromo?”
His gaze pinned me, sharp and merciless. “Where is your precious belief now? Where is your ninshu?!”
My teeth clenched, the rage bubbling just beneath the surface. “I tried! I did my best to bring peace! I wanted to build a world where we—could live without bloodshed. Where the endless cycle of war would finally end. Ninshu was meant to—”
“Ninshu,” he spat, the word dripping with venom, cutting me off. “Your precious Ninshu is nothing but a lie. A fantasy you told yourself so you could sleep at night. Look around, Hagoromo!” He spread his arms wide, his broken body a silhouette against the raging fire. “Does this look like peace to you?”
“Ever since you spread the gift of Chakra, there’s been nothing but bloodshed. War after war after war. That doesn’t sound like the gift of peace to me.
I wanted to answer, to defend my choice but the words caught in my throat. He was wrong—I told myself insistently. But the truth of his words clawed at me, sinking into my chest, gnawing at the edges of my resolve.
“They wouldn’t listen,” I finally said, my voice softer now, the anger slipping away. “They fought, over and over. And you... You gave them more reasons to fight, more reasons to hate each other.”
“Ahhh,” he breathed, leaning forward, his smile stretching wider. “So it’s my fault now, is it?”
His tone softened, almost gentle, but the words twisted further like a knife. “You know for all that you crucify your mother for being the otsutsuki she is,” he said, voice soft, almost gentle.
“You chose to share the gift and now what do we have? Clans wiping clans, families being erased and the world drowning in such… delicious negativity.”
He dragged his fingers across his face, smudging it with blood, soaking it into his skin, savoring it as if it were a ritual. His eyes glittered with a sickening joy as he held my gaze.
“No, Hagoromo. I think we both know who the real monster is.”
I wanted to strike him down. I wanted to kill him. And I hated myself for it.
“There it is, your intent to kill, your drive. You’ve changed," he murmured, voice low, almost reverent. "There’s passion in you now. Fire…
A shudder passed through me, and the words fell from my lips, solemn as they came, “I dub thee The Accursed One… For cursed is your existence and the pain and bloodshed you bring. You belong in Hell.”
He bowed, mockingly gracious. “Why, thank you. Now, let’s not waste any more time.” His grin stretched further, something almost inhuman in the joy. “Come then, let us know each other—let our fists tell the story.”
And then he charged, with my name ripping from his lungs “Hagoromo!!!”
I felt his name tearing itself from my own throat, and I lunged forward to meet him. “Na—”
——————————————————————
I shot up, gasping, drenched in sweat, the echo of the name still caught in my throat. I clung to the fragments of the dream, to whatever I could grasp, feeling them fade from my mind like sand slipping through my fingers.
The crow of the rooster split the silence, announcing dawn, and I was left alone with only the knowledge that I was forgetting something important.
