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The rage is more blinding than the pain.
Hyakkimaru might realize the irony of the thought that the rage and pain are blinding if he wasn’t so blinded by the rage. He can’t see colors beyond those that paint a soul, and yet he still sees only red.
He can hear his opponent’s grunts, cries, screams, movements. He can hear the sword swinging, he can see the two actually red dots that signify what was stolen from him. He can see how they leak into the human who holds them.
The demon who holds them.
It’s a twisted kind of irony that Tahomaru is the final demon.
The brother that was meant to be his, the boy who holds his place, his position, his father, his mother.
The final demon is what he was meant to be.
The demons are more twisted than Hyakkimaru ever could have imagined.
But he doesn’t care. He doesn’t care about Tahomaru. He doesn’t care about Daigo, and he doesn’t care about Tahomaru.
Daigo tried to kill him.
Tahomaru is trying to kill him.
Tahomaru tried to hurt Dororo.
He screams.
It’s a primal scream of something, rage or hate or maybe even the pain that he can feel, faintly throbbing in his torso. He screams as loud as his lungs will allow, and he rushes forward. He can hear the swords clash, see the white outline of his opponent and the faint blue of his sword. He breaks the block, he swings again. He swings again. He loses sight of where exactly he’s meant to be aiming somewhere along the way. He starts swinging his sword wildly. He feels all the rage, the pure, unfiltered rage that once cost him the trust of the one he values most in this world.
He wants to kill the demon before him.
“Why!?”
“Why do you get to be whole when I don’t!?”
The scream that Hyakkimaru hears sounds so familiar, something that he knows better than absolutely anything in the world.
A scream of rage, but Hyakkimaru can’t feel the familiar burning that comes when the sound echoes from his own throat.
Tahomaru’s scream of rage.
“Give it back! Those body parts don’t belong to you!”
He’s nearly taken aback by just how familiar the words Tahomaru spits sound.
Tahomaru tried to hurt Dororo.
Hyakkimaru screams.
“THEY’RE MINE! GIVE THEM BACK!”
The loud sound of metal-on-metal stops.
His mouth falls open. Panting, heaving, gasping for breath. He pushes, deeper, harder, pressing something soft and fleshy into something hard and wooden. The now-flickering white light of Tahomaru’s soul, the steady and strong light of Hyakkimaru’s swords, and the firm green of the wooden pillar that the blue pins Tahomaru’s white to.
He hears two people whose breath is slowing down.
His lungs feel heavy.
“Give… them back…” He huffs. He can hear Tahomaru panting, just as hard as he is, and he presses harder and harder on the swords buried in the other boy’s chest. “They’re mine… give… them back…”
“They’re not yours…” He huffs and heaves and Hyakkimaru can hear it, feel it, “you… belong to… Daigo…”
It goes silent. Everything goes silent. The white light, Tahomaru’s soul, flickers. The red dots that signify Hyakkimaru’s eyes stay strong. But the white flickers for another moment, Hyakkimaru can still see it, and then it’s gone.
It’s as the adrenaline drains from his body that Hyakkimaru finally feels exhaustion setting in. He feels it all the way down to the bones in his brand new arms. He feels it in his chest, his arms, his legs, his face, hi heart, his soul.
He’s just so tired.
“…Do…Dororo…” The name is barely above a whisper as it leaves his lips. He lets go of the blades that pin what’s left of Tahomaru, what’s left of the final demon, and moves for the one at his hip. He doesn’t unsheath it, but he pulls it from its place in his belt. The first step he takes is shaky, and he stumbles, but the sword is there to catch him. The sword that was given to him by the woman who gave him everything. The sword that was given to him by the only person in the world who he thinks he wants to see more than the small spark of soul that’s been following him all this time.
It becomes harder and harder to breathe as he walks. His skull pounds and pounds and pounds and pounds. His eyes are likely coming in, finally. Finally. He can only think, finally. He’s finally finished. He’s finally won. He’s finally whole.
“Do…roro…” He presses his eyes closed, firmly closed. He doesn’t want it spoiled. He knows what he wants his first sight to be. He doesn’t want to ruin it with anything else.
Breathing is hard. He doesn’t know why. Breathing has never been hard for him before, but it’s hard for him now. It’s hard. He can’t breathe past some kind of lump in his throat. The sword holds his weight above the floor. The sword keeps him upright as the building burns around him.
“ANIKI!!”
He hears the voice, and he lifts his head.
“Dororo..?”
“ANIKI!! WHERE ARE YOU!??!” The voice screams again, and Hyakkimaru can hear the footsteps stomping through the castle.
“Dororo..!!” He calls out, shouting over whatever it is that’s making it so hard to breathe. The sword moves faster as Hyakkimaru pushes against the ground.
He doesn’t see the small spark of white, the soul of his dear friend, before the child tackles him. Tackles him in what is clearly meant to be a hug. And Hyakkimaru doesn’t have the strength to withstand the impact. He crashes to the ground, Dororo clutched in his arms, sword crashing to the side.
“ANIKI!! You’re alive!! You’re alive..!” He can hear it, he can hear Dororo crying into his clothes. He can hear it, and he can feel it. He holds the small body. He can feel him, with his own hand. He can feel the small child’s warmth, he can feel his skin, he can feel his clothes, he can feel his heart beating and he wants to cry. He has eyes now. He can cry now.
“Dororo.” The name is weaker this time. Weak, he almost can’t hear his own voice. It’s the first time in so long that he’s felt so… quiet.
“Aniki..?” He can feel the tiny body pulling away from him, and he reaches out for it. He reaches for the warmth that he felt moments before. Suddenly everything is so cold. He can hear Dororo gasp. He can feel Dororo scrambling around him. He wants to open his eyes, but suddenly his eyelids are so heavy.
“Do...roro...” The name barely gets past his lips. “Wait...”
The sounds of Dororo’s scrambling, gasping, (crying?) suddenly stop dead. The small boy is kneeling over him. He can feel his hands on his chest.
“Aniki..? Aniki...”
He opens his eyes.
“Dororo...” He can feel a smile touching on his lips, the first body part that Dororo saw him get back. He reaches a hand up, cupping the small boy’s cheek. He can see water, tears, coming from the boy’s eyes. He can see red, blood, staining his green clothing. But it isn’t Dororo’s blood. Hyakkimaru knows that it isn’t Dororo’s blood.
“I... I can see you...”
“Aniki..?” He can feel Dororo’s hands moving, cupping Hyakkimaru’s cheeks. “You can see? You can see me??”
“Mhm. Dororo… Dororo you’re…” His hand comes up. One is on his own stomach, he can’t feel it. He can’t feel his left hand, but his right is resting on Dororo’s cheek. “Pretty… Dororo’s… so pretty…”
“Wait, wait, Aniki..!” Dororo’s hands jump, gripping Hyakkimaru’s hand so tight that he would grimace if the pain in his torso wasn’t so much worse. “Wait, stay awake, okay?? The priest is here, and your mom..! And… and…” He can see Dororo’s tears, and he moves his thumb to wipe them away from the boy’s eyes.
“Dororo… smile..? I… did it…” He blinks, it’s so odd. It’s a moment, in between seeing everything where he just sees nothing. But it feels so natural that he can’t bring the thought into his mind to question it. “See?” He tries to show Dororo his arms, he looks into Dororo’s eyes. “I can see. I… beat them…” His breathing is starting to hurt. His chest feels heavy. He’s never felt so heavy before.
“Mhm… mhm…” He can see Dororo nodding. He can see the small boy trying so hard to smile as he clings to Hyakkimaru’s hand for dear life. “You did it… Aniki… you did it…”
“I… won.” He breathes, but it hurts. It hurts and it’s heavy and his eyelids are so heavy and everything hurts. He hasn’t felt so much pain since the first time the feeling washed over him. “Dororo… we won.”
“Yeah, we did.” He can see Dororo’s soft, pained smile. “Aniki… Aniki wait… wait, please? I’m not ready…” Dororo’s eyes, beautiful, big, brown, press closed. Just for a moment and tears spill onto Hyakkimaru’s skin. He can feel it. In the palm of his hands, he can feel Dororo’s soft skin, and he can feel Dororo’s tears. “I’m not ready… just let me get ready… okay? Just…”
“Ready..? Dororo… wh..at…do you… need to be… ready for…?” There’s something in his mouth. It’s wet, but it doesn’t feel like water. It doesn’t taste like water. Hyakkimaru has never tasted anything like this before. It’s odd, and he doesn’t know how to describe it. “Is something… is something… h-happening..?”
“…Aniki…” Dororo’s voice is quiet. “Thank… thank you. Thank you… for everything…” He can hear what sounds like tears in Dororo’s voice, he can still see them through Dororo’s smile. “…Aniki… Aniki please wait… okay? Please… wait… I’m not ready… I’m not…”
“Do…roro… stop crying… okay? We won… no need… to c-cry…”
“Aniki…” The small boy bites his bottom lip, presses his eyes closed, and smiles. He smiles his best smile, looking right into Hyakkimaru’s eyes. “Bye, Aniki. Thank you… thank you for everything. Thank you for taking care of me, and thank you for saving me, and thank you for being there for me, and I… I’ll…” He presses his teeth down on his bottom lip, only for a moment. “…I’ll never forget you… I’ll miss you…”
“Do…Dororo… I can see you…” He doesn’t know why he’s repeating it. “You’re so pretty… Dororo… thank you… Dororo…” He doesn’t know why he’s saying thank you. Maybe he’s wanted to say it for a long time now. Maybe he’s wanted to say it ever since the small soul, the small white flicker of light that he couldn’t hear, smell, or touch started following him through the woods. “Thank you… for helping me… win…”
“..Aniki..”
His eyes close.
“Get… get some rest, Aniki…”
His breathing slows, more and more. He can feel Dororo pressing himself into his side. He can feel the small boy curling against him, and his arm is around him. He can feel him there. Dororo won’t leave him. Hyakkimaru feels less cold, less alone, less afraid, when Dororo is with him.
“…I love you, Aniki. J-Just… so you know…”
He wants to say it back. He wants to return the affection, the gesture, but when he goes to open his mouth, goes to speak, he can’t.
“You…” Dororo pauses, and Hyakkimaru thinks the boy is thinking. “You deserve your rest…” He can hear Dororo’s voice tremble. “…goodnight, Hyakkimaru.”
He takes another deep breath. He takes another deep breath, pulls Dororo closer, pulls the small boy who he’s come to care for more than anyone, anything, else in the world, as close as he possible can, and relaxes. He finally has a body to relax, and it relaxes.
He breathes, one last time. He can hear Dororo crying. And he hates that his hearing fades mere moments later. He hates that Dororo’s crying is the last thing he’s heard.
And moments later, moments after Hyakkimaru took his final breath and Dororo began to sob into the remains of his bro’s clothing, Hyakkimaru is plunged back into the darkness from whence he came.