Death had always assumed his position to take the lives of others; he was merciless, cruel, dark, and morbid – or so he was described by the myths that had taken a liking to floating around in this time and era. They were rumours because none knew what laid ahead of a life that no longer existed, rumours and falsehood, something that had Ryoji gripping at his seat with eyes cast to the ground and body bound to that memory he once held dear. His once upon a time was far and almost forgotten, however, it had recently found its way back to him much to his chagrin. He was somewhat of an introvert a little after that memory, though he did occasionally crack a smile and a joke here and there – just like old times. Sometimes he wondered what his true purpose was, other than to bring unfortunate events and news to worlds, but that thought was nothing but a fleeting one.

He wondered if this was how Junhong felt; the boy he had met at random and torn apart into two to make what Ryoji was as a whole. Even now, that choice he had made seemed selfish but had it been anyone else, the result would’ve been the same; it was just bad timing on both ends, more so with Junhong than the other. Again, when he thought about it, perhaps his timing was just as bad as Junhong’s because had he not met the young one, he would’ve avoided years of heartbreak from the woman who had taken his heart and hammered it into millions of fragile pieces. Ryoji sucked in a breath of air, breathed out before massaging the ache from the nape of his neck. He’d been in this position for a while now and since he had nothing better to do (other than to wait for help to arrive – humans, yes, they were nice creatures, right? One of them even gave up his life to save their precious world, so yes, they were nice—cough), he could only fall into the insanity known as his mind.

It would make almost anyone laugh if they knew of Death and his absurd insecurities. He wasn’t human, no, but he was human enough to love someone who was far out of his reach. The heartbreak was his downfall and perhaps something he regretted even to this day. When something is eternal and forever, the things and happenings that come across it become unbearable, especially if it involved feelings that weren’t supposed to exist, and especially when it was a being. Or a force, but that was highly irrelevant at this point, he supposed.

“But that’s not all, is it, my silly heart?” he chuckled in misery. The trap that held his wings captive was a spell cast by a witch so if anything, the only person who could release him was the same grief he had been dealing with all these years. Had there been more than one witch left in the world, then perhaps he wouldn’t have to see the face that haunted his dreams at night or every time he closed his eyes, but the Dead Witch was the last pure witch so any chances of that had simply been diminished into dust. “Must I see you again, my dearest?”