Chapter Text
“Live… “
“To be able to live is a gift humanity takes for granted.”
“So, I have a question for all of you, a question that I know is always there since the beginning.”
“It’s a part of us, the primal knowledge that remains unanswered since the era of creation.”
“Thus, we keep asking, asking, and asking. It keeps on repeating because humans are never satisfied with one answer. They keep on thirsting for knowledge, but without the awareness of what to do with it. Interesting, isn’t it? I personally think all of you, every human being born in this twisted birdcage called ‘the world’, are really interesting.”
“So, my humans, let me be generous to remind you again of that one question you all desire to know the answer of.”
“What do you think we all live for? Exactly for what purpose?”
“In the end, is it about waiting for the death, expecting our beings to cease from existence?”
“If that’s so, then doesn’t that mean death has been our top priority, for every cell, every line of bone, every drop of blood, every layer of skin we have will just reduce to nothingness?”
“It’s scary, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, humanity is always relating death with something fearful, something they desire to avoid at all costs.”
“But do we really have a choice?”
“And what if I say we have?”
“Tell me, if there is a method to live an immortal life, what will you do?”
“Yearn for it, try to grasp it, reach out your hands like moths to a flame?”
“Interesting, isn’t it? The way all of you do anything to avoid death.”
“But, no, I’m not here to judge. I’m merely an audience for your struggle, your battle against the death.”
“I have lived my life long enough to see the truth, to hear rumors, and sometimes to find things in the borderline between the two.”
“My humans, it’s normal that things aren’t exactly like we think it is.”
“It’s indeed hard to believe, but please do have faith that the story I’m about to tell you relates to the things I’ve mentioned above.”
“It’s about a man who turns into a monster, for becoming one with immortality itself.”
“It’s a curse, but is it really?”
“Even I don’t know for sure. Like I said before, things aren’t always exactly like we think it is.”
“So, be prepared, brace yourselves, for the future lays ahead of us might be tricky.”
“For that, I hope the best to each one of you shall your journey turn you into something else besides a ‘human’.”
“Who knows, you might be becoming more of a monster than ‘him’.”
“Let’s just wait and see, shall we?”
///
Sounds of guttural groans, feral screams, and desperate clanks of metal resounded in the meadow, sparking up horror in the birth of dawn. Army of mortals against those of the immortals. Fresh blood poured out as skin torn open with sword and fangs, limbs fell to the ground as the bodies were ripped apart in pure brutality. The insides of stomach came flooding out and figures were no longer recognizable as the predators killed and ate, destroying everything that came their way.
A man, shadowed in a coat blacker than ink, was heading to the edge of the almost ended battle. His hair fluttered slightly by the passing breeze as the black fur that lined every edge of his coat waved along with it in lurid elegance. The grass would make crunching noises that muffled by the war cries whenever his glistening boots tread on it; steps light and relaxed as if the man was walking through the bustling crowd of the city instead of the battlefield.
The end of his coat swept over the ground, following the movements of the confident legs. Hands were shoved inside the pockets as the owner of said coat hummed appreciatively; eyes as red as ruby roamed over the horrible sight with the twinkling of mischief and amusement as if he was watching an orchestra.
“My, my, looks like you have it rough on your end, Commander Joseph.”
The man chirped loud enough for a middle-aged man, clad in black military uniform with medals proudly perched on its front, to notice his presence; expression serious and facial lines accentuated the heavy tension he was feeling.
“So, you’re finally here, Orihara. Not much of a coward, I see.”
The man greeted him with a firm nod; eyebrow twitched slightly as the man named Orihara stared at him in a way a scientist did to his object of the experiment. Said man chuckled lightly; tone light and matched the innocence of a child.
“Ah, it seems I’m not trusted yet, eh? That wounds me, Commander.”
“Just do what you have to do, we don’t have much time.”
Orihara’s lips tugged upward, forming a smirk so sinister it rivaled the predator on its glory. His head tilted slightly in childish mannerism as the cruelty of his next words was as sharp as the edge of a knife.
“It’s you who don’t have that luxury of a time,” He shrugged as if every life, every soul that lost didn’t matter much, “But since I’m here, might as well lend a hand.”
“You’d better be as lethal as what I’ve heard from Shiki, or else your fate won’t be too far off from ours.”
The man huffed silently in annoyance, looking away and fixing his gaze to the unmoving bodies of his men. He didn’t even notice a large raven circled above them before landing graciously on Orihara’s left shoulder.
“Please have no worries, Commander,” he assured; teeth biting the black leather glove which only covered half of his palm as he tried to take it off, revealing slender fingers that were previously hidden beneath. He then took the other glove off and handing them both to his raven which oddly accepted them with its beak. “Once I take a job, I do it professionally.”
He then crouched down to one knee; arms spread open with fingertips touched the grassy ground which was covered with dew. No one but the Commander noticed the grass beneath Orihara slowly froze before lines of silvery white came pouring out from the inside of Orihara’s black furry sleeves like a river flow, down to his fingertips, and spread like a wildfire as it touched the ground. The silver lights continued to travel down the meadow, glistening and sparkling in bizarre serene as they continued to freeze the grass and wildflowers along the way, and when they touched the bodies of the fallen army, something unnatural happened.
Call it a nightmare or a miracle, either way, it was still unbelievable. Torn organs returned to their respective positions, bones cracked and shook violently as they reverted to their original design, bleeding bodies with ripped skin struggled to stand up to their feet—the fallen human army was raised from the death in the span of seconds.
Though their eyes reflected nothing, the army seemed to recognize who their enemies were as they started to attack the vampires without any care. Weapons raised as the battle came back to live and the table had turned.
No matter how many times the vampire army smashed them, they would stand up again to fight like marionettes designed for slaughter, all under one command: victory is absolute. From a distance, shouts of panic could be heard by the puppet master himself whose lips dragged wider into a cruel, unforgiving smile.
“It’s Izaya Orihara’s doing!”
“That snake bastard! Filthy piece of shit! Traitor to his own kind!”
“Pull back, pull back now!”
“Retreat! It’s no use fighting them!”
“Shall we attack Orihara then?!”
“We can’t even go through his army, it’s impossible!”
“Regroup! We have to regroup!”
“Scatter, all of you! Go to the forest!”
“Go hide for now!”
It was a dramatic change, every shout tasted like victory he just couldn’t help but admiring the view as though it was a flower garden full of roses.
Izaya Orihara was indeed a very sly, but intelligent man. He knew which side he could offer his strength to, all for the sake of survival. With talent as rare as necromancy, he ensured his own fate.
“Congratulations.”
Commander Joseph said with eyes still sparkled with awe and a bit of relief as Izaya slowly stood back to his feet, dusting off his coat in the process.
“Ah, the pleasure’s all mine,” He smiled politely; decided it was a good time to show his business-liked attitude as he took his leather gloves back from the raven still perched on his shoulder, “And thanks for holding onto them, Electra. They’re my favorite pair.”
The raven named Electra tilted her head as Izaya tickled her beak, seemingly understood that the act was an expression of gratitude. Commander Joseph regarded them oddly before shaking his head in resignation.
“They would last, wouldn’t they?”
Izaya shifted his gaze to Commander Joseph who had his back turned on him; fully understood the meaning behind his question as his business smile returned to his face.
“Of course, they’ll still move even if I’m not here, and they’ll also listen to your orders.”
Satisfied with the answer, Commander Joseph nodded firmly. “You have my thanks.”
“Like I said, Commander, the pleasure’s all mine!” He chirped out a bit too cheerfully, and almost snickered at the end of his sentence when a clatter of hoofs, as well as a horse neigh, was suddenly heard.
“Well, it seems like your ride’s here already, Orihara.”
Commander Joseph cocked his head toward the arrival of a headless horse pulling a two-wheeled open carriage with a headless woman acted as the driver. The cart stopped right in front of Izaya, and the woman—the dullahan—hopped off to greet him with sign language. Her black Victorian dress fluttered elegantly with every movement.
[Izaya, done already?]
“Ah, Celty! Always right on time, eh?”
Izaya grinned at the dullahan as he put the leather gloves back on whilst Electra tried so hard to stay in balance on her master’s shoulder; flapping her wings unappreciatively in the process.
[We have to hurry back, a new mission just came in.]
To this, Izaya raised an eyebrow; gaze locked with the black smoke emanated from Celty’s neck where the head was supposed to be. The moment of silence briefly fell upon before Izaya broke it with a knowing sigh. He turned to look at Commander Joseph who rewarded him with nothing but a stern expression.
“Very well, Commander, I guess it’s about time I leave.”
“So it is.”
He reached out his hand which was accepted immediately by said commander; the weight of the rough fingers felt strenuous and uncomfortable to his leathered one.
“I wish you the best of luck.”
Commander Joseph said nothing to that except a firm nod though he knew the words smelled heavy with worst of pray. He only watched in silence as Izaya hopped onto the cart; Electra cawed noisily in his direction and flapped her wings, probably her way of saying goodbye.
With neighs from the headless horse and his clattering of hoofs, the cart departed; circling back to where it came before stepping up to the air. The rest of the army—the still living ones—watched them in awe as they took a turn that headed to the city.
Inside the cart, Izaya found a file that smelled suspiciously of his new mission. So he took it in his palms and began numbing through its pages. He felt the cart creaked as Celty hopped inside and sat on the opposite side, trusting her horse to bring them both to their destination. Izaya watched her in amusement; really, how could she just jump in so languidly with that dress?
She then tried to converse in sign language again, explaining the new mission she just received from the higher ups.
[We’ve finally found a lead regarding the philosopher’s stone!]
“Well, well, isn’t that good news~”
He smirked confidently; crimson eyes glistened with excitement as he read the context of the page.
“Nicholas Flamel’s infamous philosopher’s stone… it’s said to be missing in that ‘incident’, and now the piece of the puzzle has resurfaced.”
Celty snapped her fingers to gain Izaya’s attention back from the papers; arranging words by the fast movements of her hands though Izaya had no problem in catching the meaning.
[Just don’t do anything reckless, okay?]
“You really wound me, Celty.” Izaya chuckled briefly, feigning hurt as Electra struggled to not be pushed by the strong wind. “When have I ever done something so frivolous in my mission?”
Celty’s shoulders slumped as she exhaled deeply.
[Who are you fooling, really?]
“No one, really!”
Izaya made a peace sign with his hand; expression mildly amused as he chuckled again at the disbelieving gesture Celty made.
“And you should just change this cart to something…modern, you know. I feel very old riding this.”
With that said, Celty’s shoulders shook lightly as she giggled.
[Shinra said I should change Shooter into a motorbike. What do you think?]
The necromancer tapped his chin as he considered his friend’s idea. While the thought of having a headless horse disguised as a motorbike seemed like a joke, he thought it might be entertaining.
“Sure, it sounds better than old carriage!”
A playful jab to his stomach was what he received afterward as Celty giggled again in amusement.
[Oh, shut up. This old carriage is your fastest transportation!]
“Yeah, sure, sure~”
He waved a hand dismissively, faking a tired sigh as Celty continued with her sign language.
[Anyway, what will you do with him?]
“Ah, great question!” Izaya hummed and nodded in approval though his playful expression betrayed the serious tension he tried to create. “Since this is so sudden, I haven’t got a clear view of the situation yet. But when it comes to beasts, we have no choice but to capture them forcefully!”
Celty sighed again in surrender whilst Izaya threw her his signature smug smirk.
[Whatever, just don’t die. Maybe a few broken bones, but you’ll heal anyway, so it’s okay.]
“Now I know why you and Shinra are a good match, thank you so much for your caring advice.”
The necromancer narrowed his eyes; putting on betrayed expression at the dullahan who had playful gesture as she formed her next sentence.
[He really looks dangerous, though. So be careful!]
“I know,” Izaya answered simply, looking down to a portrait of a young, attractive man with shining blond hair; an aggressive scowl was carved in his facial lines. Next to the picture were Japanese characters which read as ‘Shizuo Heiwajima’.
His lips automatically dragged into a smirk full of wild excitement which didn’t go unnoticed by Celty.
But, he also looks like fun.