The Freedom to Choose, To Take
Lives are won and lost on the battlefield. Men die for their freedom. Bloody deaths, deep red and oozing, yet poetic in their own right. Staining the fields forever with their souls. Some never leave. Some stay for an eternity.
But then there are those like him. Neither dead nor alive. Held together like a ragdoll with very much alive black threads. He could dismantle and then re-mantle his body at whim. The only real thing left was his mind and the four hearts that he had installed. Four hearts that beat in rhythm. Four hearts that he chose to take. Lives lost not in battle but by his own selfish greed.
A heart lost? A new one installed. A heart failing? Another one is taken and put in place. These freedoms that he has, it keeps him alive. Alive, breathing, never aging past the moment he willingly took on the painful process to gain his kinjutsu and garnered the ability to live forever.
But was he happy? Did this bring him solstice? No. His life was forever changed and the greed he feels was overpowering. Money, finances, women. Nothing could satisfy the threads desire to kill. The freedom to choose, to take, whatever he wished.
And then came him. That first battle. A young son of a bitch. So unusual in his appearance. That silver hair, those purple eyes. What did he have… some form of genetic condition? And then his skills. One swift move and his heart was gone. One destroyed by a kid twenty something years ago. He had the freedom to choose and to take one of the hearts that he chose for himself. And could he take the heart of the kid in front of him? The choice was evident. His still beating three hearts all aflutter could not.
These feelings. Such school girl like disgusting feelings. Horrible, horrible, feelings. Yet they persisted. They drove him mad. And then leader-sama had the audacity. The nerve to assign them together! Now he was stuck with the man who had captured the attention of his three… now four beating hearts! And this young man… the way he blushed when spoken to. The gaze that he felt when his back was turned. The stumbling of words and the showing off. It was disgustingly adorable and made it worse.
He had the freedom to choose and to take this young man on. Make him his lover. Make him his. But should he? Would he?
Men… he has been with them. Hookups, back alley flings. Teaching a lesson in interrogations or battles. He had no shame in his sexuality. But women were always where the long term lies in his mind. But now. That freedom to flip the cards was in front of him.
And he chose to take.