Unholy!

Bleed for me

Ready for a hunt? >:)
TW: #fearplay #primalplay; (C)NC; and some cannibalistic ideology I guess?!

---

They tell you it's always darkest before the dawn. As if suffering is noble simply because it's promised an ending.

In the end, that's just another lie people cling to when they're too afraid to face the dark for what it really is.

Because sometimes the darkness doesn't lift. Sometimes no dawn comes. Sometimes that light you see at the end isn't salvation at all, but the very last illusion before the absolute end.

And if you have no faith, no hand to reach for but your own, then following that light will not lead you into glory.

It will reveal itself as the headlamp of your oncoming death, and cast you into a darkness so complete that even the night would seem bright by comparison.

---

This is a shit idea. A shit-on-top-of-shit idea, and it might honestly be the dumbest thing he's ever chosen to do. As if some suppressed death wish has finally decided to reach up and steer the wheel.

Megumi is already inside the 'Unholy!', deliberately heading in a specific direction. The corridors guiding him are lined with red carpet, and it looks a little too much like walking along a blood-soaked path.

Second floor. Bar level. The harmless part. If anything in this building deserves that word...

Thanks to Sukuna, he knows where the elevators are, the ones that lead up, and he also knows he has to get past guards to reach them, and that's what actually worries him the most.

Because those men don't look like they're paid to ask questions. They look like they're paid to end them.

Surely they've been told not to let anyone through who isn't authorized, and certainly not an eighteen-year-old bar boy, who just happens to be the same kid who threw a right hook at the top boss, their so-called 'Lord', and made himself memorable in exactly the wrong way.

Megumi closes his eyes for a second and inhales slowly, forcing air into lungs that feel like they've forgotten how to cooperate, and he holds it just long enough to convince his body that this isn't the time to fold.

When he opens his eyes again, he's collected enough to almost believe he won't have a mental breakdown in the middle of the hallway.

He has no idea yet how he's going to pull it off. He's never been the type to make elaborate plans far in advance. Plans never work out. They exist for the sole purpose of being ruined and leaving you disappointed. And what in this world can truly be planned, anyway?

His sister once told him, „Life is what happens while you're sitting there making plans", and yeah, she probably had a point.

So Megumi will have to improvise. As usual.

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out the golden card just to reassure himself it's real. That he really got this thing from his father – the same man, who vanished when Megumi was still so young he can barely remember him; the man he never knew for sure was dead or alive, and who never seemed to care whether his son was dead or alive either.

He turns the card between his fingers, the gold catching the light and throwing a pale reflection onto the wall, and then a beep cuts through the silence. Megumi is yanked out of his thoughts, his pulse spiking alarmingly as he whips around because for a split second he's sure he's been caught, and that this is the beginning of something he can't talk his way out of.