Another One Bites The Dust | KyouHaba

Fully Dead, Fully Alive

Two hours later, he was numb.

Before, he had been a certain type of numb. He was unaware of it, mostly. Unaware of his incompletion. After experiencing agony, he knew he was numb, and he couldn't stop feeling it. His fingers were cold, so were his toes, but it didn't cause him pain. Something sharp was digging into his thigh but it didn't bother him. Yahaba was sitting next to his arm, with their shoulders practically brushing against each other, but he couldn't feel the warmth of his living partner.

Oikawa was sitting at the dining table across from them, with a huge tome in his hands that he read almost idly. Kyoutani couldn't see the glowing symbol or the carved flesh of the other abile; Oikawa looked like his unnaturally beautiful, normal self, once more.

"It doesn't say anything about causing the user abnormal pain," Oikawa said, breaking the silence. "Even if Kyou-kun had been alive, I'd have neutralised all effects by giving him anaesthesia."

"Well, the book is wrong," Yahaba said, with a frown. "Obviously, it's not an honest copy."

Oikawa looked up at the potente, eyes narrowed. "I have perfectly copied all information from every symbol book I've ever seen into this, and you dare call it dishonest?"

"I'm saying it how I see it," He answered, bitingly. "Or would you like to argue with me that Kyouken was not in pain?"

"Well, of course, I can't argue with that," Oikawa said, nose crinkling slightly. "I'm merely suggesting that, maybe, the fault was yours. Or, possibly, whatever inking he had done that was mutilated after the attack on the Sanctuary."

Kyoutani finally looked up. "You heard about the Sanctuary?"

Oikawa nodded. "News like that spreads like a wildfire. Can I see this inking you had done?"

Yahaba looked over to Kyoutani and the zombie shrugged. "Sure. Can you remove it?"

"The ink will fade in its own time, I'm sure, but if it's causing these problems, I can try take the ink out. Who inked the symbol?"

Kyoutani sat on the dining table next to Oikawa, lifting up his hoodie. "It was Shirabu Kenjirou," He answered, noticing Yahaba inhale sharply at the name. "He inked it only two days ago, but a stray slap of concrete stabbed me the day afterwards."

Oikawa hummed, sliding onto the floor so he was at eye-level with the symbol. The blue ink had thinned and there were holes in his skin that Kyoutani could see light seeping through from the other side. The carver hummed, looking over the messed-up symbol with narrowed eyes.

"It hasn't been warped too badly," He began. "By the looks of it, the ink hadn't settled into your flesh properly. That concrete made it seep and broke the power it was using; the hours you should've spent decomposing came rushing back to you and you started decaying too quickly."

Kyoutani frowned slightly. "So, it was like some kind of death debt?"

"I doubt I'd use that term to describe it," Oikawa said, straightening up, "But yes. If it had continued any longer, it would've rushed you past the stage of undead life until you became a corpse again. If that had happened, it would've been the last time you had a conscious in this life."

Over on the sofa, Yahaba paled. "We wouldn't have been able to bring him back?"

"No. His soul would've moved on. The only thing you could use his body for would be to burn it and sell the ashes on the black market. Or bury it again. Really, it's up to you."

"So, if it wasn't the symbol causing me pain, what was causing it?" Kyoutani asked, lowering his shirt before he had the urge to poke a finger through a hole in his chest.