n. The First Glimpse
“Who are you?”
“My name is Akaashi Keiji. I have a lover. His name was Bokuto Koutarou. We promised each other—”
The crack of a whip. A heart-wrenching scream. The sound of someone breaking down into helpless sobs. All cries, all pleas for help. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I will remember you even if they want me to forget. I will never forget you.
“You have no lover. You have never had a lover. You will never have a lover. You are doomed to live a life of loneliness, Dragon Lord.”
“I am Akaashi Keiji. I have a lover. His name was Bokuto Koutarou. We swore our vows, we exchanged our rings. He promised me the world. But my world was him.”
And you took him from me.
“There is no ring.” A hiss through clenched teeth. A hand reaches for Akaashi’s, yanks it close. He struggles, but he is in pain. He wears little but underwear, his body covered in bruises and wounds, old and new, bleeding and scarring from the use of the whip. “This ring was never yours. You’ve never had it.” The ring is torn off, along with his finger. Akaashi Keiji screams. It is full of agony, of hurt. Of pain and anger and hate. “I will ask you again. Who. Are. You?”
“My name—” Another whip. Akaashi cries out, voice hoarse, broken, dry and cracked. There is no light around him. Only the smell of water as it’s splashed onto the stony floor to wash away the blood. Blood on his hands. Blood bleeding down his back. Blood on the whip. His bloodshot eyes simmering with rage and spite and hate and fucking sadness. “ My name is Akaashi Keiji.” Another crisp crack of the whip on his exposed back. Once plain and pale, littered with but a few scars, now devoid of any untainted, unwounded skin. Blood blood blood blood. He can smell it. He can taste it in his mouth. He can feel it on the jagged stone floor he kneels upon. Blood. “I have a lover.”
“You have no—”
“I have a lover.” Akaashi pushes away the hands around his arms, struggling against the heavy chains cuffing his wrist together. His hands are bleeding, too, from his frantic attempts at taking them off. There is no part of him that is not in pain. But it is nothing compared to the emptiness of his heart. “His name was Bokuto Koutarou. We promised ourselves to each other.”
A slap. Akaashi cries out as he’s thrown onto the ground. With his hands cuffed behind him, he has no way of avoiding the way his chin thumps painfully onto the stone floor, biting his tongue until he tastes blood. It’s numb. He can’t speak well now. He’s sobbing. “ I have a lover. His name was Bokuto Koutarou. He was the only person who gave me hope.”
“He’s the only reason you’re still alive, you vile thief!” A kick to his gut. Akaashi groans. Curls in on himself. But rough hands seize his hair and yank, forcing him to meet the guard’s sadistically glee gaze despite the sneer on his face. He spits. Akaashi chokes, tries to pull away. The guard throws him down. “Cut his hair. Cut it until he can no longer tie it.”
“No—don’t—”
But they don’t listen.
“Please—please—have you not taken enough from me?”
Someone gathers his long hair. Pulls back while another makes sure Akaashi can’t move his head. Akaashi struggles, tries to bite at the guard’s hand. He can’t bring himself to use that which he stole. He can feel no power running through his blood. All he feels is pain, pain, pain, and all he is right now in this very moment is oh, so, fucking mortal. Powerless. Every effort futile, every movement weak.
And then suddenly no one is pulling on his hair anymo—
No.
That’s his hair on the floor.
He can’t feel his hair cascading down his neck. The air hits the nape of it.
And then he screams.
He screams.
The sound is heart-wrenching, blood-curdling. So broken. So sorrowful. So hateful. So angry. It gets louder, louder. The torches held in the hands of the guards are snuffed out and they’re forced to bring their hands to their ears. Some have to leave. Akaashi screams and he screams and he screams until he has no sound left, until he has no tears to weep. The chains around his wrists scratch his skin painfully. There is nothing left for him. No one to wait for him, no warmth spared. Nothing.
But he promised.
He promised he’d keep going.
And Akaashi Keiji may be a dirty liar, an assassin, a cutthroat. But he is honest when he says he will keep to that promise as best as he can.
The guards leave him. Akaashi is given no food, no water. He is left to rot in the dark of the cell. He struggles against his restraints but to no avail. He can’t stand when there are chains around his ankles too. The hours blend together and he has no way of telling time until the guards come in again.
“Who are you?”
I won’t forget you.
“My name is Akaashi K—”
Slap.
The same thing happens. His locks of hair aren’t even swept away. They’re left to sit there on the floor as a brutal reminder of what he’s lost.
He is Akaashi Keiji. He had a lover. His lover was Bokuto Koutarou. They’d exchanged vows, made promises.
My name is Akaashi Keiji—
Again.
Next day.
“Who are you?”
“My name is Akaashi Keiji. I had a lover—”
His fingernails are picked out one by one.
The next day.
“Who are you?”
“My name is Akaashi Keiji. My lover was Bokut—”
They break his fingers.
“Who are you?”
“My name is Akaashi Keiji. My lover’s name was B—”
Break his wrist.
“Who are you?”
“My name is Akaashi Keiji I had a lover his name was Bokut—”
He can’t use his arms anymore.
“Who are you?”
“I am Akaashi Keiji my lover was—”
They pick out his toenails.
“Who are you?”
“My name is—”
They break his toes.
Again.
Again.
Again.
I’ll survive.
They give him water one day. He drinks it like a starved animal. He is, after all, not yet fully immortal.
The next day. They ask.
And it repeats.
Over and over.
More water.
Again.
Water.
Again.
He passes out.
He wakes up.
I’ll survive.
For you.
Who are ‘you’?
Who am I?
Why am I here?
“Who are you?”
“My name is—my name is—” He stops.
“I don’t know my name.”
“Have you ever had a lover?”
I don’t know.
But he does not say it.
“N… no.”
“Your name is Akaashi Keiji.”
Oh, yes, that was his name.
There’s a whisper. “The potions worked.”
The person is hushed.
“My name is Akaashi Keiji.”
“You have no lover.”
“I… have no lover.”
“You are Heaven’s new Dragon Lord.”
“I’m… what?”
“Clean him up. He’s ready to meet the higher-ups. And give him another dose so we can be extra sure for the next three hundred and sixty-five days. We must make sure he doesn’t remember.”
My name is Akaashi Keiji.
I might have had someone important to me once, but I do not remember them.
My name is Akaashi Keiji.
I have never had a lover.
And then, somewhere, in the very depths of his mind, there is a broken, pleading whisper.
I’m sorry.
I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry—
I am sorry
I am so
SO
sorry.
(I love you.)