Work Text:
Tatsuya's body did not belong to him. He could not point out a single part that was his, that he could call his own. There were scars on it that he did not recall, scars that belonged to the Tatsuya of This Side and not to him. His hair was a bit longer than he was used to. His fingers were less calloused than he remembered them being.
When he looked in the mirror, he would see his doppelganger, and he would remember that he was not meant to be here. He was a paradox, an inhuman specter who should be exorcized from the body he was haunting. And yet, he could not be.
Sometimes, when he looked in the mirror, He would peer out of his eyes, turn them sickly gold and smile. Tatsuya would scowl, but He would still remain in the glass. It wasn't as though Tatsuya needed a reminder of who owned his body, who owned him, but the monster reveled in it.
He had longed for Tatsuya ever since they had 'met' - as much as a human and a being who embodied the darker half of the human consciousness could meet - and so He must have been especially pleased to win him at last. The stupid rebellious boy who had dared to defy Him at every turn could still play hero, but in the end he would fall down at the end of the play, a tragic figure.
Tatsuya hated it. In order to defy that wish, he would distance himself from everyone until the end, no matter how Katsuya or Maya tried to reach out to him. And yet, that only made Him more pleased, and made Tatsuya feel more owned. The less he was around others, the more he felt what little humanity of his remained slipping away. The more He filled up the empty spaces.
He inhaled, exhaled, cast a Diarahan for the third time. It eased the ache in his bones a little, gave him a short burst of euphoria. It faded all too quickly, but it made him feel just a bit calmer. He fiddled with the lighter in his hands, fingers trembling. No matter how many times he lost himself in reveries of blood and gore and memory, it always took time to find his way back.
Tatsuya couldn't tell if his hands were covered in blood from the demons he'd killed earlier, or if he was imagining it. Maybe it didn't matter. The blood would come off, even if the brand wouldn't. No matter how many times his hands were seared with flame, slashed by blade and claw, or pierced by bullets, the brand was unharmed. It was His silent message to Tatsuya: no matter how hard you try, you cannot escape me.
Even the blood did not stain the brand. Tatsuya chuckled to himself, staring at his opened palms. He opened and closed his hands several times, but he didn’t receive any sensation from them. Maybe his body was finally shutting down, finally returning to its rightful owner and forsaking the usurper. Maybe his legs would soon stop working too, and he would collapse to the floor and never get up again. That would be alright, he thought. The Tatsuya of This Side would not interest Him at all. He only wanted the sinner, the Paradox.
He won’t come back, not until you atone, not until you finish this, not ever, not ever -
Tatsuya pushed the thought aside. He inhaled, exhaled. Cast another Diarahan. Picked up the lighter he’d dropped. His body was at the point where it didn’t feel pain, not the way it should. It was just a borrowed shell that housed his soul, after all. Demons and humans could not make it cry out. That power was reserved for Him.
He stared at the lighter. It had been Jun’s, and Jun had given it to him, and This Side’s Jun had smiled at him and been so confused and innocent and ignorant that it made him sick. Jun had abandoned him. But maybe, Tatsuya had been the one to abandon Jun. If he had merged with the Tatsuya of this timeline and disappeared, wouldn’t he have been able to meet Jun again? Wouldn’t he have avoided all of this…?
In not wanting to be left alone, he had created a self-fulfilling prophecy that he could never escape.
You’re not alone, you have me. Don’t you know? You’re never alone, Singularity, He murmured.
It was not a voice in his ear, but a thought in his head almost indistinguishable from his own. Tatsuya grimaced. He brought the lighter up, glaring at the twisted reflection the metal showed. His reflection had a soft smile on his face, but the inhuman eyes betrayed the truth. He put the lighter in his pocket. He didn’t want to see something so filthy on the treasure Jun had entrusted to him.
“Disappear,” he hissed under his breath. He dug his fingers into the brand, uncaring of how deep his nails sunk into the flesh. “Get out of me…”
The brand seemed to writhe on his skin, black engulfing his body. He could almost feel those hands spreading across his flesh, and he shuddered. It wasn’t painful, but it was an alien sensation, one that felt violating. It had been better when He would tear his flesh open, would laugh as he took our organs and bones and called them by name as he swallowed them and took them away. Those nightmares had been agonizing, but Tatsuya could understand that it was torture, and endure it.
This was possession, this was ownership, this was Him taunting his property with the fact that he could touch him as he pleased and Tatsuya could only put up a token of resistance.
The more you struggle, the more you become mine. What a pleasant contradiction. The words slipped into his mind like a blade through the ribcage, piercing the heart and issuing blood forth as the blade departed.
Tatsuya clicked his tongue, staggering forward. He had indulged in rest for too long, and opened himself up to His words. He needed to kill his thoughts with the thrill of battle again. He dulled his mind and gave himself over to the joy of the kill, indulging in the wildness of carnage and the pleasure of the hunt. It was better than the twisted pleasure that He would force upon him.
The false sword he wielded sliced down any demons that dared approach him, blood and severed limbs flying. When he had fought alongside others, he had at times formed pacts with them. He had persuaded them to offer information and made pacts and been able to converse with demons. Now, all the demons knew that Tatsuya was no human but His pet, and words would be wasted. There was no pause before battle to exchange even threats. There were only growls and hisses and screams, animalistic sounds torn from throats.
Do you think this will erase me? A demon’s corpse fell at Tatsuya’s feet. He lunged forward to strike another down.
Do you think this will make your own weakness less apparent, Singularity? The appendage-shaped brands slithered over Tatsuya’s skin. They pinched at his nipples, they slid between his thighs.
Tatsuya gripped his sword tightly. “Don’t touch me.”
A laugh issued from his own throat, echoed in his ears and mind. He continued fighting his way through demons, laughing. No matter how many demons he killed, more appeared. No matter how powerful he became, he could not fight Him. He could not win.
His body heated, blood rushing to the places He touched. For all that his mind resisted, his body was His plaything, was at His beck and call. For all that Tatsuya pretended that he had any choice at all, that he held some sort of power because of the blood on his hands, they both knew how weak and pitiful Tatsuya truly was.
But aren’t you lonely? He whispered. Don’t you want to give in? You know you are mine. How long shall you keep up that farcical resistance?
Tatsuya screamed wordlessly, and rushed into battle again. He didn’t need to bother with answering Him. Regardless of his response, He would interpret it in the way that best suited Him, and would mock Tatsuya for it. Rather than replying, it was better to work harder at drowning Him out. Maybe with enough blood, the monster would disappear. It was foolish to think that he could appease Him with such a thing, but he could still dream. He was still close enough to a child for that, though he had crossed the boundary and entered the adult world long ago.
With a swing of his sword, demons fell. He felt less like a human and more like a machine, destroying everything in its path and wrecking havoc wherever it went. A bringer of calamity that no longer possessed emotion, words, feelings. He felt too much, and yet he felt numb. He wanted to fall to his knees and give in, and yet he refused with every ounce of strength in his being.
Give in, He whispered, give in, give up, you know you’ll never amount to anything more than this, Singularity, Calamity, I named you anew and you are undone.
“My name is Suou Tatsuya,” he told himself, told the demon in his head and his soul and creeping along his skin.
Neither of them believed it, but for the sake of what little reason remained in his mind, he had to tell himself that. People needed a name, an identity. They needed goals and wishes and hopes and regrets and fears.
But you’re not a person, you’re not a human, you’re a toy, you’re a pet, you’re an object and you are mine
“Shut up,” he hissed.
The demons around him laughed and jeered. They knew their master was mocking Tatsuya, and instead of continuing to attack, they dispersed.
You don’t want that, now do you? Because then, you’ll be alone, the monster crooned.
Hands crawled over Tatsuya’s skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake. Tatsuya shuddered, and his sword fell from his hands. He would have taken it to himself, but it would do him no good. He slithered over his skin, He pressed His fingers against the parts of his body that no one should touch, He made Tatsuya’s back arc as he bit the inside of his cheek and tried not to let out a sound.
Don’t come inside, he wanted to say to those exploring fingers, but what would that do?
The demon was already in his mind and his bones, had scraped out his guts and swallowed them down and licked His lips and asked for seconds. There was nothing Tatsuya had to call his own except his thoughts and the words that left his lips, and even then, just how much of them were his, when the demon already owned so much of him? Just how much of Tatsuya could he lay claim to, when the one who had branded him was the shadow, the darkness, that lay within all? Did that not mean that he was in Tatsuya, too?
So foolish. There isn’t a single part of you that does not belong to me.
Hands tugged on Tatsuya’s knees, and he fell as though he was an awed worshiper in the presence of the divine. He grimaced, fists clenching and nails digging into his legs. He tried not to think about how filthy he must look, with Him crawling all over his flesh and mocking him from within.
Praise my name, He demanded.
‘No,’ Tatsuya mouthed silently. He refused. Even if it meant that He would take him apart and put him back together wrong, as He had done before, he still had a shred of dignity left, didn’t he? That dignity… was his hatred. So long as he burned himself to ash with the flames of his rage, then he would be able to walk onwards. He would be able to die as a human in the end.
His body was pierced. Cold, inhuman fingers slid inside him, a mockery of an act of pleasure. Tatsuya moaned, but it was from pain, from agony, from being split open. Though his mind was aware that he was being tormented, his body foolishly tried to act as though he was being loved.
Praise my name, He demanded again, more insistent now. Or is it that you like this, Singularity? Your body is enjoying the defilement. Should I give you more of it?
‘No,’ Tatsuya mouthed, and then vocalized it, over and over, “No, no, no -”
Though He heard it, He did not heed it. Digit after digit slid inside his body, some choosing instead to stroke along other parts of his flesh, and all he could do was close his eyes and grip his knees and pray that it would end soon. The worst part was that, in some way, he did enjoy it. It was a small, sickening part that Tatsuya wanted to incinerate, but it existed.
It was that part of Tatsuya that had never grown up, that remembered being quiet and lonely and friendless. It was that part of Tatsuya that remembered a missing father and a brother that slowly grew distant, that was too busy chasing after him to remember Tatsuya. It was the part of Tatsuya that remembered dumping cereal into a bowl and crushing them up with his fists and trying not to cry because he was old enough to not need to cry, now, and it didn’t matter that he felt as though he was the only person in the world because he wasn’t and he needed to grow up already.
There was some part of him that was hungry and desperate and craved attention and love and ate up everything He gave him and wanted to not only praise Him but to beg him for more.
“Please,” he muttered, and he didn’t know if he was begging for the pain to end or the pleasure to continue or for someone, anyone, to look at him that wasn’t a monster that he loathed with every bit of strength he had.
No one will come for you. They all forgot you, remember? They all left you behind. But not I, He promised, and it almost felt reassuring. The terror drowned that slight relief out. I could never forget you, Singularity.
“You should,” Tatsuya replied.
His body shook, his flesh gave way to the being who wanted to rip it apart seam by seam. Something inside him broke, and Tatsuya’s vision blurred as coppery blood spilled from his throat. It didn’t matter. He could fix it with a Diarahan later. He could always, always be fixed. There wouldn’t even be scars left behind, there wouldn’t even be proof that it wasn’t just some wild dream.
“Agh - Ha, ha… Just, leave me alone,” he begged, pitiful and powerless. “It, it hurts… I’ll…”
He would break. He would really and truly break. He was tired of being hurt and he was tired of being alone and he was so, so tired of everything in the world, the world where his friends didn’t remember him and Maya and Katsuya were always trying to reach out to him when they should just let him handle his own problems and he was… a blight… on everyone…
Oh, but you’re so beautiful like this. Break for me, then.
He was a bloodied whimpering mess on his knees for a false god. He was a sinner who would destroy the world with his arrogant greed and needed to repent. He was no better than the monster inside him and he hated the fact that he still breathed. He understood now why they burned witches at the stake: surely, it was to burn both the witch and the devil they had contracted, to send them both to the Hell they belonged to, that Tatsuya belonged to.
I do not permit you to burn, for you are of me, and just as ashes return to ashes, shadow turns to shadow, sin turns to sin, and sinner returns to me. You cannot escape me so easily, nor will you ever, for until your soul disintegrates it is mine, and Philemon can save you no more. He cries for you, Singularity, did you not know? He weeps for you, and it is he that entrusted Maya with your case, thinking in his hubris that he could right your foolishness, is that not pure comedy?
“Philemon is an idiot,” Tatsuya bit out, gagging on the words and blood. He spat some out, and imagined it landing on the man’s beautiful white and gold mask. It was a comforting thought.
Laughter spilled from him, and it was His, and not the boy’s own. As He laughed, Tatsuya’s body silently cried in agony. He threw Tatsuya’s head back, cracking bones in the process and hair landing in his mouth as he laughed and laughed, inhuman and wild and unused to using a human vessel.
“How true,” He spoke with Tatsuya’s mouth now, no longer taunting him within his own mind. “I truly won’t ever tire of you. My dear paradox,” He whispered.
He maneuvered Tatsuya’s hands to his abdomen, slid them beneath his clothes. They encountered raw flash, wet and dripping, and when they grasped something, it had the consistency of ground meat, albeit still pulsing. Tatsuya didn’t want to know what sort of grotesque mannequin He had turned him into, but it sickened him.
“Why is it that you are repulsed so? I have had men weep with joy, to so much as hear a whisper of my voice,” He mused, chuckling.
The fingers pulled away, red chunks like rubies of flesh hanging on them. Tatsuya’s stomach rolled - or at least, he experienced the sensation of it, vaguely. He felt far away and yet far too close to everything, unsure of intact organs or ruptured ones, unknowing of what was broken and what was whole. The pain pinned him down, made him unable to speak. And still, even now, those dark hands writhed on his skin and inside his flesh, as though to comfort him and torment him all at once.
“I… fuck you,” Tatsuya muttered, and though it was with the same mouth that He had used, his voice was weaker, hoarser. More human and fragile and breakable, in the ways that He, the god and the devil, was not.
“It’s alright if you don’t understand.” He spoke with the righteousness of one who knew all, as He always did. “Little by little, I am sure you will come to comprehend.”
And with that, He brought up the ruby-flesh dangling from Tatsuya’s fingers to Tatsuya’s lips, and swallowed that flesh. Raw, bloody, coppery. The demon chewed and chewed, even as bile rose up, and He swallowed the bile with delight, too, inhuman eagerness showing in the eyes of the toy he was possessing. He licked each finger lovingly, savoring the stray bits of meat.
“All mine,” He murmured, and kissed the knuckles of the stained hand one by one. “No matter how you fight me, I am inside you, and you within me. We cannot be separated…”
Tatsuya didn’t speak. He gagged, coughed, choked. But he had already swallowed the forbidden fruit, the tainted delicacy. He had no choice but to feel the way it sat inside him, his thoughts a spiraling storm of emotion and random fragments of sentences that he could not construct. With all his being… with broken bones and a shaken, shattered will that still went on, he hated… Him…
“Hate me? No, the one you hate is yourself, my Singularity.”
Tongue scraped over teeth, trying to swallow every last bit of Tatsuya.
“You hate what you are, and so you pretend to be human. You hate that you have lost everyone but me, and so you hate me. Aren’t you lonely?” He asked, voice soft. “Pray to me. Praise my name. And I shall not leave your side.”
He was tempted. He was alone. He had lost all of his precious people, and all of his precious memories were worth less than dirt. His life… was meaningless. His existence was a candle that would burn in the night, barely illuminating anything, and would be extinguished by dawn. However, no matter what, when Suou Tatsuya pro -
“Didn’t you break all your promises?” He smiled, tugged up Tatsuya’s lips so much that his face ached. “What word is there to keep? What integrity is left? Look, your insides, they’re spilling out,” He taunted, almost humming as He gestured to the mess on his knees. “Look, your flesh is branded,” He held up one hand, stained black and marked with His symbol.
“I…” Tatsuya’s eyes blurred with tears. The demon, courteous as always, wiped them away for him. “Maya-nee,” he blurted out. “I still need to protect her.”
“Ah, Maia.” He snorted. “I wonder how long that woman will pretend that she is a saint, when to me she is more akin to the Whore of Babylon.” There was hatred in his voice, and it dripped like cold water down Tatsuya’s spine.
“Maya-nee is… a good person,” he managed to say with a bloodied mouth and bitten tongue. “Shut up…”
“And even now, she bathes in your blood, she soaks in your tears,” He wondered aloud. “I see that you shall not praise me today. What a shame. Though a god can open your lips, He cannot make you speak His praise.”
“Never,” Tatsuya snarled. “Never, until the day I die…”
“And after that?”
Tatsuya was struck silent. “...Oh,” and it was a little gasp, for how much horror so few words had struck him with.
You are mine, from the blood in your veins to the marrow in your bones to your very soul. Do not forget that.
And then His presence was gone, dissipating like smoke into the air. Tatsuya shuddered as the brand receded, hands melting back into his flesh as though he was the host of some horrific parasite. He wished that He were merely a parasite: then He could be killed.
He wondered if he was capable of dying. He wasn’t capable of living, at least. Maybe there wasn’t anything he was capable of doing except amusing Him, acting out the farce of god and worshiper with the only thing left in the world that knew exactly how pathetic and disgusting he was and took pleasure in everything Tatsuya had to offer Him.
Tatsuya pushed the thought aside. He inhaled, exhaled. Cast Diarahan. Took Jun’s lighter out of his pocket. Gripped it tightly. The cold metal offered him no assurance. His body ached still, phantom pains lingering even though he had healed all the wounds. He could taste blood and feel bits of his own organs stuck between his teeth.
He smiled, and rose from his knees. The past was nothing but regret, the future did not exist, and the present was all he had. For the sake of victory, he would burn it all to ash. For the sake of what little remained to him, who had lost his humanity, and who was nothing more than a toy wound up and allowed to play its merry tune.
Just watch me, he thought to himself. I will show you that I am more than the names you give me.
Unseen, unheard, Nyarlathotep grinned. The unnamed child, who did not dare call Him by name, would entertain him for far longer yet. What a beautiful marionette he had acquired to dance upon the stage of despair. What a beautiful toy he caressed, broke, repaired, and defiled again and again.
How he loved Suou Tatsuya, he mused, that all-consuming flame that was merely the size of a candle, yet burned him still.