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Tobio clings to his shadows, wrapping the magic as tightly around himself as possible. He wears it like a second skin. If the plan is to succeed, he can’t let a single flicker of his presence be known to Oikawa. Not yet.
The castle throne room is exactly as Tobio remembers: magnificent and empty. The great columns tower above him, and the marble floors made to hold court shine brilliantly. A red carpet sweeps across the room to a golden throne, inherited from the human king Oikawa had slain.
There, Oikawa himself lounges, his elegant clothes draped across the red cushions and ornate metal. It’s one of his favorite places to come and think. Once he’d told Tobio that—
Tobio shakes his head. Nostalgia of a time long past will only compromise his aim.
He holds his breath. There is only one cursed arrow. Only one chance.
The rest of the party had refused. Iwaizumi had rejected the idea before Kenma had even finished explaining, and Aone and Hinata had followed soon after.
Tobio and Kenma are acting alone. They’d snuck away in the dead of night and made camp outside the castle boundaries. Tobio had watched Kenma’s eyes glow purple as he wove dark magic into the tip of one of Tobio’s arrows for nearly an hour.
It will work, Kenma had promised.
Tobio exhales, and looses the arrow straight into the demon king’s heart.
It’s a sneak attack that will only work once—the second the arrow hits its target, Oikawa sends magic billowing through the air, tearing Tobio’s shadows off his shoulders and exposing him.
“Shitty brat!” Oikawa snarls, tugging the arrow free with a burst of blood. He sends a shockwave of energy across the room that Tobio has to dive and roll to dodge.
“Oikawa!” Tobio calls from behind a column. “Please, listen. I don’t want to fight.”
There is no answer, no follow-up barrage of magic attacks. Tobio risks a glance around the column. Oikawa is frozen, his hand hovering over his chest, the bleeding now magically stopped. His brows are furrowed in furious concentration.
“What was in that arrow, Tobio.”
“A curse,” Tobio answers. Red eyes snap to meet his. “A poison, but not for you.” He swallows. Steels his nerves and hardens his heart. “Your greatest love will die.”
“My greatest—” he begins, and then comprehension dawns. The anger drops straight off the demon king’s face. He looks stricken. Tobio’s chest pangs, painful and clear. This is for the best, for the greater good, but hurting Oikawa—and hurting another, an innocent, just as a hostage… Tobio finds no joy in it.
“Can it be broken?” Oikawa demands.
“Yes,” Tobio says, voice shaking. “There’s a contract in the magic. You have to surrender. If you do, our mage Kozume-san can—”
Tobio blinks, and he is no longer in the throne room. In the span of a breath, the marble columns have been replaced with trees, the carpet with dirt. No, Tobio is no longer in the castle at all; he is in their camp, and Oikawa is sweeping across the grass in his elegant cloak, his magic crackling around him like static electricity. Tobio reaches for his quiver and finds it empty. He has no choice but to stumble after Oikawa.
Kenma sits, solemn, expressionless by the fire. As if he was waiting for this.
“Break it,” Oikawa says.
Tobio shivers on instinct. It is the tone of voice that no one dares argue with. Men scramble to obey. Tobio had used to watch in awe as Oikawa brought men to their knees with a single command.
But Kenma merely blinks at him. Slowly. Like an unthreatened cat. “Surrender first.”
Oikawa’s aura shudders. Sparks of magic break off and fizzle into the grass.
“If you don’t break this curse,” Oikawa says, and now his voice has turned soft, in the way that is much worse than his commanding voice, in the way it did before Tobio once watched him tear a man’s head from his spine, “I will unleash agony the likes of which you can scarcely imagine, little mage. First, I will rip the magic out of your soul, piece by piece. Then, I will kill every member of your little adventuring party, slowly, and then I will find and kill your entire family, and then every child from your home village. Then I will torture you until you beg me for the same fate, and instead I will leave you stretched across the ground for your precious crows to eat.”
Who could it be, he wonders, with a sharp pang under the terrified hammering of his heart, that Oikawa would go to such lengths for?
Kenma swallows. But then he replies, just as softly: “No.”
Oikawa’s magic sizzles and snaps, cracking out like a whip, and Tobio flinches as it rips through their tents, smashing the campsite to bits around them.
But Kenma and Tobio remain untouched.
“You’re sentencing him to death!” Oikawa takes a few strides before spinning on his heel and striding the other direction, pacing furiously back and forth, as if the fire is some invisible wall preventing him from attacking Kenma. His fists are clenched by his sides.
“No, your highness. You’re sentencing him to death.”
“Your own comrade,” Oikawa spits, ignoring him. “By an underhanded trick. Aren’t you supposed to be the hero’s party? Do you not have a conscience?”
Kenma watches him passively. “Do you?”
Oikawa’s magic lashes out again. The fire roars into a blaze of unnatural, demonic red, and Kenma and Tobio both wince.
The fire returns to normal, but the bright spot of it stays in Tobio’s vision, melting into the green of the grass, the blur of Oikawa and Kenma’s figures. He blinks, but nothing clears. He shakes his head, and the world spins.
“The curse is settling in.” Kenma’s voice sounds far away, muffled. “You won’t intimidate me into breaking it without your surrender. And you’ve already correctly guessed that killing me won’t break it.”
It takes Tobio a moment to understand Oikawa’s next words. His mind is moving sluggishly. “Maybe so. But if Tobio dies, you die.”
“Why would I die?” Tobio tries to ask, but it comes out as a mumble, and then everything tilts on its side.
Before he can hit the grass, Tobio is caught by the prickling, familiar buzz of Oikawa’s magic, and then Oikawa himself on his knees in the dirt, pulling Tobio into his arms.
“You’re a cruel bastard, Kozume,” Oikawa says. Is Tobio imagining his voice shaking? “How long does he have?”
“About five minutes.”
Tobio can barely focus, but his gaze sticks to the slight demonic glow of Oikawa’s red eyes, stormy with emotion. Understanding finally washes over him. “Me?” he whispers, barely able to get to word out. “But—”
Darkness closes in on him.
Tobio wakes to the pale glow of morning in a soft bed that he only appreciates for a moment before his memory jerks him upright in a panic. He’s yanked the covers off and has one foot on the cool stone floor of the room when the door on the opposite wall opens.
Tobio freezes at the sight of the demon king himself in the doorway.
“Oh, gods,” Oikawa breathes, and then he’s crossing the room in quick strides. He takes Tobio’s face in his hands, tilting him this way and that as he examines him, red eyes narrowed critically.
Tobio can only stare up at him in amazement. “Oikawa?”
“Who else?” Oikawa snaps, pressing a finger against his neck to feel for the rhythm of his pulse. Tobio swallows thickly.
“I’m alive?”
“Of course you’re alive.”
“But then, that means you surrendered?”
Oikawa’s hand slides up, cupping Tobio’s face. A thumb strokes along his jaw, slow and possessive enough to make his stomach twist. “‘Surrendered’ is a strong word. But yes, I appeased your shitty little mage’s magical contract.”
Gently, Tobio touches his hand to Oikawa’s, holding it against his own face. “Tooru,” he says.
Oikawa finally looks him in the eyes, then, distress breaking through his expression. Tobio just strokes the back of his hand.
“Your greatest love?” he murmurs.
Oikawa scoffs. “You’re such an idiot. An idiot with a death wish, apparently.”
“But it’s true?” Tobio presses.
Oikawa’s lips curl in displeasure, enough to flash his sharp canines. “Brat.”
“Coward,” Tobio tries to snap back, but the word is barely out of his mouth before Oikawa is muffling it with his own in an angry kiss.
When they part, Oikawa still looks furious. “Satisfied?”
“No.”
“I hate you.”
Tobio can’t suppress the smile that twitches at his lips. “No, you don’t.”
“Ugh.” Oikawa tilts Tobio’s head up for another kiss. “No, I don’t.”