Disclaimer: If Shaman King were mine, I wouldn't need to write fanfics. If any of these songs were mine, I wouldn't be writing fanfics.
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Minimal fluff 09!
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Hao wasn't asleep. He rarely slept anymore. He prided himself on his wonderful sixth sense, but there was no mistaking the feeling of someone hovering over him. Reluctantly opening his eyes, as he knew what was unfolding without needing to do so, Hao blinked in the darkness to see Lyserg sitting over him, the pendulum straining tight toward the older shaman's throat. Lyserg blinked, bright green eyes untarnished by the act he would have carried out.
"How does it feel to die, Hao?" Lyserg asked, not scalding; rather, it was curious, like he was a child who didn't know of the implications of the question. Hao smiled lazily, taking a hand from the sheets to bat away the pendulum and reach out to pull Lyserg closer.
"I've come close to death before many times," he explained lightly, bringing Lyserg's face down to his own. The boy, who had let go of the pendulum as if it just happened to be in a stance to kill, stared patiently back into the dark eyes. "It's a wonderfully exuberant feeling, near death. You feel yourself grow stronger.
"But death itself…" Hao chuckled bitterly to himself, bringing Lyserg's lips down for a kiss, "is a delicious feeling."
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"How does drowning sound to you?" Hao asked one morning, sitting on the kitchen table watching Lyserg make breakfast. "It doesn't matter what kind…just the act of being overtaken by something. Does that sound like a worthy death?"
"To die struggling for breath doesn't sound very appealing," Lyserg replied, watching the oil sputter and pop in the frying pan.
"It doesn't have to be water. It could be fire." Hao brought a hand up and blew on it, sending a small trail of smoke in the air. "To be suffocated in flames. Think about it." He paused, staring at Lyserg's still back. "It really does lick your skin, fire. In theory, it should be pleasant.
"You could drown in tears too, you know." Hao leapt off the kitchen table and walked over to Lyserg, reaching a hand around to feel a pale cheek. Taking it back and licking the salty tears off his hand, Hao turned Lyserg around, a strange smile on his face. "To be so sad, then dying…it would be a pitiful death."
Lyserg didn't answer, blinded by the thick streams of tears from his eyes, which Hao did nothing to take away.
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"Poison," Lyserg mused, while tending to a small rose bush he was growing in a pot. To Hao, it seemed that the boy was growing thorns instead; the Briton had bought the thorniest rose bush and there were tangles of sharp edges and discouraging points – in the midst lay dangerously beautiful roses of pink and sinful red. "There is so many varieties. They all work in different places. Some of them close off the windpipe so the victim suffocates. Some break down the organs, destroying the person from the inside. Isn't that sneaky?" Lyserg turned, a tight smile on his face.
Hao felt the strange tickling in his throat that came from the water Lyserg gave him earlier come back.
"Sneaky," Hao nodded. "But ultimately not brave or worthwhile. If you're going to kill someone, why wouldn't you watch them do so, and why would you wait? And sometimes, humans are mysterious creatures, the poison has no effect." Hao cleared his throat and the tickling went away. "It was human error that stumbled upon poison. An unlucky soul happened to find it and die from it. Nature's way of natural selection. Definitely unoriginal."
"Pity," Lyserg said, turning back his roses. He never used gloves and he never cut himself on his flowers.
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"Sickness," Hao said, as they passed a cough-stricken man on the street on the way to errands, "is never a good way to go. It's uncomfortable in a bad way and you have no control of the matter. Especially when you're close to finishing a well-thought out plan." Hao risked a peek at Lyserg's legs, accented well with ungodly short shorts, and earned himself a slap. "Disease can strike anyone. It's a commoner's death."
"And did that strike the holy Hao Asakura?" Lyserg asked sarcastically.
"Yes," Hao admitted. "But I came back, didn't I?"
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"Old age is an appropriate way to go," Lyserg said confidently. They were sitting on a bench on the side of the road, watching the world turn before they went home. "You've lived your life as you could and when the time comes, you go. You beat everything that could have taken you down and you resisted." They watched in silence as an elderly couple walked by.
Hao brushed the strands of hair that had fallen into his eyes away. "With age comes troubles, Lyserg. No one wants to be old. You're constantly reminded of the things you missed, the things you didn't do. Age means regret and self-loathing."
"You could have enjoyed yourself," Lyserg insisted, turning to Hao with a frown at the put-down.
"Then you wouldn't want to die, eh?"
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"Accidents that kill you are never pleasant either," Hao said, as he caught the heavy dictionary Lyserg had put on the bookshelf and didn't push farther back enough. "You don't see them coming and then you're finished."
"Accidents happen," Lyserg shrugged, never thanking Hao for helping.
"Accidents happen," Hao echoed, easily sliding the dictionary back on the shelf until it hit the back with a thump.
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"Falling," Hao whispered in Lyserg's ear, after the elder had woken up to find Lyserg in a distressed state from a nightmare, "is a stupid way to die. Jumping, especially. If someone pushes you, that's different. But if you fall on your own accord, that is the worst." He pulled the covers over Lyserg's shivering frame. "If you fall facing the ground, you're just masochistic. If you fall looking up, you're not accomplishing anything but a false feeling of flying."
He smirked as Lyserg buried himself in his arms. "No human can fly, Lyserg," Hao reminded.
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"So, suicide," Lyserg said one day, turning to Hao as he hung up the laundry. "What about that?"
Hao looked at him, the clothespins clipped on his fingers. "Coming from one who has attempted it, that's a tall order. Coming from someone who has tried many times but is too busy to properly plan it out? Hmm." He flourished the pins around, out of Lyserg's reach. "Some say you can't help it. Many in this planet's history have done it. Some think it's a heroic thing to do. Some think it's cowardice."
"What do you think it is?" Lyserg asked, exasperated as he reached for a pin.
"You probably wouldn't agree with me anyway. Whichever it is, it's the last resort for someone who's at the end of their rope. And they end that way, depending on your preference." Hao took a pin from his finger and dangled it in front of Lyserg. "I never considered it as a decent ending for anyone."
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"Of course," Hao said breathlessly, leaning down to bite and mark Lyserg's skin, "there is death through sex. If the heart can't take that kind of stress, it can stop."
"That's…" But Hao never heard what it was, as Lyserg was cut off with a thrust and made the cutest sound humanly possible. Hao smirked lopsidedly, preoccupied in other matters than the discussion at hand. Lyserg was griping his shoulders with a supernatural strength.
"It's as pitiful as drowning in tears," he laughed, pushing in and laughing again as Lyserg squealed and gripped the bed sheets.
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"You haven't considered murder," Hao murmured, leaning over to speak quietly to Lyserg, as it was not in his nature to disrupt such a traditional and honorable pastime as the theatre. He always enjoyed performances and it had been his idea, so Lyserg had gotten them tickets to a local show. Lyserg stared on ahead blankly as Hao spoke to him, watching glossy-eyed as the heroine flourished a gun at the villain.
"It's so simple, but it's so complex at the same time. Have you ever gotten into the mind of a murderer? Would you like to know what's in there?" Hao chuckled, a low sound that sent chills down Lyserg's spine. "But what can you say, Lyserg? You've killed too."
Someone behind them 'shh'ed and Hao leaned back in his seat, reaching over to rest a hand on the greenette's knee.
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Hao glanced up as Lyserg walked into the room, holding a steak knife. If he didn't see this happen all the time, he might actually have been interested. "That belongs in the kitchen," Hao reminded as he turned back to the papers in his hands.
"What if you were killed by someone you loved?" Lyserg asked, ignoring him as the knife gleamed at his side.
"That would be awful," Hao agreed.
"Surely you're not going to say you don't love anyone?"
"Of course not. If my mother tried to kill me, I would be devastated."
"I'm so hurt," Lyserg said, rolling his eyes. He held up the knife and glanced at it, a look of surprise passing his face only for a moment. "If I killed you, Hao, what would you do?"
Hao smiled, looking up back at Lyserg to amuse him. "You can't kill me, Lyserg. You've tried enough to know you can't."
"There are many ways to kill a person," Lyserg said thoughtfully, and the knife tilted ever so slightly toward its bearer. Hao frowned as a peaceful smile crossed the boy's face as the knife now faced the greenette's heart. "But no one really dies. They live in on in awful memories. Memories no one cares about until the death and suddenly you can't forget." There was a sudden movement. Hao shot out before he knew what he was doing, burning Lyserg's hand and the knife clattered onto the floor.
"If anyone's going to kill you," Hao hissed between teeth, storming up to Lyserg and grabbing his collar, "it's going to be me."
"I was only going to rip my heart out for you," Lyserg said innocently, the strange smile still on his face.
"It would be a miracle if we still had one," Hao sighed. Lyserg laughed, an empty sound, as he leaned in to kiss the words away.
Owari
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Notes: I used to be a well-sounded Shaman King authoress. But things changed. I grew older. I wrote for other fangroups. I became morbid. In my defense, it was a rainy day when I came up with this. I had just ran a 5K. I hope you forgive me for this? Review, please.