They're down to solely the binding ward to keep him inside Namimori, everything else stripped away.

It's going on five months now and the three are spread out over the low but large table in Kyouya's living room, the two adults going through records so ancient the paper is only being held together by magic. Kyouya is occupied with learning words of power and rune sequences.

The kitsune has been teaching him about the supernatural, filling in the half education Kyouya has as well as correcting hunter propaganda. Dino tried at first but he goes off on tangents about things he did centuries ago and the lesson goes nowhere.

Kyouya doesn't notice for a long moment, too focused on reading the newest journal procured by Kawahira for his education. He doesn't notice how still they are, how no one has turned pages, how Dino hasn't snipped at Byakuran for kicking him under the table and how Byakuran hasn't fluttered his eyelashes and played innocent.

Kyouya glances up and they're both looking at him with eyes swallowed up by darkness.

"Knock knock," Byakuran sing-songs.

"Oh, won't you let me in?" Dino simpers.

Kyouya stands from the cushion on the floor and tries not to flinch when both creatures pitch forward and crumple onto the table like puppets with their strings cut. He pulls off his armband and lets it fall to the floor, feeling lighter as it leaves his fingers.

He moves outside, to the garden, and Reborn is lounging back against a tree. He's sitting above a patch of disturbed dirt, hands laced together over his stomach, long legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles.

"I can't say I'm very impressed with your offering," Death tuts at him with an exaggerated frown.

Kyouya stays standing, looming over the man. "What are you?"

Reborn smirks. "I am Death."

Kyouya frowns. "There's no mention of you, in the books. You're...new."

"Then you're asking the wrong question, aren't you?"

"...What did you used to be?"

"I was a human once," Reborn admits proudly. "The World's Greatest Hitman, in fact."

The grass underneath Reborn is already drooping, the bark of the tree behind flaking off as decay seeps from the man now that he isn't hiding himself. He seems to peripherally notice the dying grass and brushes a hand over it.

Reborn tilts his head and suddenly there's something more looking out from his eyes, older and bigger than what should fit into the man's skin. "Our hitman was connected so strongly to us in life, ever since the first kill, of course we would have him in death."

The grass shakes and plumps up under Reborn's touch, growing rapidly until he sits in a bed of green strands. His fingers brush a resurrected wild daisy and gently, loosely wraps around the stem. It stretches up, reaches for him, petals kissing his skin.

Reborn smiles at the pathetic little thing, certainly not a kind expression but genuinely happy all the same.

"What does it take-" Kyouya pauses, hand clenching into fists. "For you to bring someone back to life."

The smirks falls away and Reborn narrows his eyes. "Death is our domain. We control everything that touches it, even if it means releasing something from our hold."

"If I die, the ward automatically breaks," Kyouya admits.

Runes are a drain on resources, on power that the hunters have gathered over the years, so they're coded to only last as long as the prisoner is alive.

Reborn shifts, sitting up and crossing his legs. "If you die then you can be one of us. I'm no longer that hitman, we are something more. You can be more with us."

Kyouya takes a long moment to consider his options. "You devoured him."

Death waves a dismissive hand. "We...nibbled a bit. Nothing so violent. He wanted to be with us, our hitman made that choice."

Kyouya leans down so he can clearly see Death's face, watching closely. "Do you love him?"

The man pauses, body too still for something that pretends to be living. "We are a state of being. We do not love, no matter what form we take."

"Liar," Kyouya proclaims, rising to his full height. "You, Death, you just breathed life into a common weed only to make him smile."

Reborn looks down at the daisy.

"So I would be nothing in the face of that obsession," Kyouya concludes. "Either I am trapped or I no longer exist. I'm not sure which is the lesser evil."

"You want choices but they burden you," Death murmurs. "Why fight it when you will be with us soon enough."

Kyouya pauses. "Does he love you back?"

Death pinches the stem of the daisy and pulls, the plant snapping in two. "He doesn't have a choice."

It ripples out, the grass wilting rapidly and turning yellow then brown then collapsing on itself, the whole garden filled with the smothering scent of decay.

The trees bend as they are eaten away, the house creaking as the wooden structural frames soften with rot. It spreads, past the boundary line of the property, into Namimori, further. A bird falls, splattering against the ground past the tree line. The world goes quiet as even the insects become silent.

Death tucks the flower behind Reborn's ear.

Kyouya rolls his shoulders, trying to shrug off the pressure that falls heavily, trying to not think about the two creatures he left inside, what might be happening to them. "If you bring me back to life, I can leave. I can keep causing chaos and that will make him happy." Kyouya pauses. "You want him happy, don't you?"

Kyouya blinks and the world rightens itself; grass not rotten, not overgrown, just exactly how it was that morning. The stifling pressure is gone. The world becomes noisy once more with the sound of nature.

Reborn still has that flower in his hair.

"You've got quite the mouth on you," Reborn muses.

"Do we have a deal?" Kyouya presses.

"Boring," Reborn complains. "Being Death is much more fun."

Kyouya stares.

Reborn sighs theatrically. "Fine, but I'm not doing this for free." He smirks. "I want your kills, all of them. Think of me when you look into someone's eyes and watch the life drain away. Worship me."

Kyouya nods.

Reborn stands and pats the dirt from his pants. He steps forward and snaps Kyouya's neck.

The teenager goes limp. Reborn then neatly twists Kyouya's head back on properly again so the spine can click back into place.

Kyouya sucks in a desperate breath and lurches away from Reborn, collapsing onto the ground when his legs give out.

Reborn smirks. "Call me when you get bored of this universe."

Reborn's body ripples and writhes like it's made of thousands of crawling ants. The ripples build and shift to black dust, growing until the body just crumbles apart and scatters in a forceful explosion. The dust swirls in sharp, jerking motions until it gushes back into the ground, into the patch of disturbed dirt where Kyouya lay his offering.

Kyouya blinks rapidly.

He raises a hand to his throat and feels for something under the skin, something broken. It's fine though, he's uninjured.

It takes longer than Kyouya would like to admit for him to stand again.

Dino and Byakuran step from the house, looking confused but meet Kyouya halfway regardless. They glance over to the tree Reborn had been sitting under, knowing something was there but not what it was.

"Let's go," Kyouya says.

The Otherside speaks his name as he strides across the world.

He's friends with the kitsune, a couple whisper.

He rides the dragon, the few murmur.

He's the brother, more say.

The strongest, everyone cries.

A human, they scream.

Kyouya pays no mind and instead simply explores, creating himself a new path and drifting where the wind takes him. Dino and Byakuran will often join him.

The little angels and demons pop up for lunch or Kyouya will fight with the other creatures he's come to know. Kyouya visits his brothers for tea when he has the time, then Hibarin begins to join them soon after.

When Kyouya has explored the earth to his satisfaction, Kawahira pulls aside a curtain and reveals rows upon rows of doors, chipped and cracked and leading to dimensions even Kawahira doesn't know of.

When Kyouya looks up, the Gods are watching him with cautious frowns. When he looks down, Death smirks at him from the shadows.

And Kyouya stays human until the very end.