schizophrenia [fanficts - short stories] || PAUSED ||

the devil's hourglass

This is a KokuDouma angst fanfict (Modern AU) & it may contain some mentions of Muzan x Yoriichi & RenKaza. Please give it a chance<3

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A single digit is just that. An independent and solitary digit. Two digits are a pair. Three is a trio, and so it goes. If I expressed each particle of this world in digits, I would lack expressiveness. They are as many and even more than the grains of sand on this earth.
Above all, there are air particles. Atoms, if you prefer to call them that. I'm not a scientist or a mathematician, but perhaps the number of atoms that make up all the air in this world would be the same as the grains of sand on earth.

I stared at my brother's hourglass. It was horrible. Dark, greasy sand, as well as working poorly because it collected the sand in clumps and piles and prevented the flow of other grains of sand.
Supposedly, it takes the same time for the sand to fall as it takes for the devil to consume you. I do not know that. I only know that's what my brother said. I remember when I asked him how he knew. "I don't know," he replied, "but we can't get rid of it. It will only do when you get rid of it, but you won't know when the devil consumed you."

I asked him that question hundreds of times, without exaggeration. But his answer is still the same

We haven't spoken since even before he passed away. Funny, considering it should have been me, it must have been me, just for being the oldest.
Whatever. Not like I care.

I remember receiving the news. His partner at the door of my house, with red eyes. He would never admit it, but he cried. He cried for my brother. "He's an idiot," he told me when I opened the door, "he's stupid and I hate him. Because he has to put the rest before him. That's why I hate him."
"What did he do now?" That was the only thing I could articulate after a few minutes in silence. It was not necessary to say his name to know that we were talking about him.

I refused to cry. I was not going to cry for him. Muzan had already shed tears for both of him. What an idiot

He told me that he died. He described the accident to me. We didn't do a funeral. Yoriichi was dead.

That was enough for me.

No good man dies peacefully. He always has to be in the most painful way. As if the universe was rubbing our faces.

As twenty two years old dude, everyone assumes that I am sociable and study or work. The truth is that almost all my friends are dead. Every one of them, those of us who called each other by nicknames, are dead.
Bleeding, operation, bus accident, cardiac arrest. The only one who had a graceful death was Akaza's boyfriend. But he was very forced. Like any good man, he gave a huge and exaggerated speech, plus he was surrounded by people. A true disgrace.

I haven't spoken to Kibutsuji for three months. I guess my brother's death distanced us.

Now I only have my boyfriend, I guess.

"The devil knows more for being old than for being a devil", those were the words that I carved by hand on Yoriichi's grave.
I still have a scar on my hand from when I did that.

I recorded that specific phrase for two reasons.
One: The irony of this one. Because Yoriichi was unbelievably good. Of bad, of devilish, he didn't have a hair. He was smart and wise. Another part of the irony is that he was young. He passed away nine months ago. My same age, I think.
Two: he said it all the time. I could complain because I didn't know something and he would use it. He had me fed up.
But I knew that he would have wanted to haunt me with that sentence to death.

I hate him. But he was doing the best he could. And I cared about him. I think they are mixed feelings. Or conflict of interest. Like when a drug addict in rehab lives in a neighborhood full of other drug addicts. He hates them, but he feels familiarity.