The Mercy of the Death Row

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I never saw a man who looked
With such a wistful eye
Upon that little tent of blue
Which prisoners call the sky,
And at every drifting cloud that went
With sails of silver by.


Their first meeting were by no means a sweet one; when they met, they were no longer free men; not of souls or of body. Figuratively and literally. Their spirits were chained and so were their bodies, their bodies and souls no longer smelling of hope, but only of despair.

The clank of the prison gates opening were their greeting to each other as mocha meets the scarlet. And they both knew they had sinned.

Under the dimmed walls of the prison, they knew it was fate when they met in the desolate place, they knew the moment they saw each other that they hate and love each other.

"I'm Orihara Izaya. Nice to meet you."

"Heiwajima Shizuo."

They were doomed and their days were numbered so they knew they should make the last days counts.


I walked with other souls in pain,
Within another ring,
And was wondering if the man had done
A great or little thing,
When a voice behind me whispered low,
"That fellows got to swing."


Izaya looked up at the upper bunk, when he saw Shizuo shivering a bit too much for a simple cold of the night chill.

"What happened?"

"I'm sorry." Shizuo murmured repeatedly, "I'm sorry."

"Why are you sorry?"

"You were everything to me and I killed you."

Izaya then learned that the reason why Shizuo got into prison- he was drunk and he killed his little brother, he was angry and hungry- and they have nothing to eat.

"Its euthanasia." Shizuo once said, even though they were talking about an entirely different thing, as if in a desperate attempt to assert his reason- he could careless about the context, in what form and in what way, he just want to say it.

Izaya knew the feeling. The feeling that one thoroughly believe that one is helpless and worthless- but the insistence by which one also kept on struggling with no purpose, to no end and yet with some force of habit, it kept walking on, until the feet that walks went sore.

"We were going to die anyway. And I don't care what will happen to me, but I can't bear to see him suffer. He's the only remnant of purity left in my dirty world, so I figure- I need to protect it at all cost."

Izaya is a hypocrite himself, but the disgust was piling up at his throat. If you think what you did is right, why all that guilt, why the fuck do you look like you're the fucking victim- as if you're some ancient hero who is unable to accept that you've dragged yourself down the pedestal yourself, why that sadness that clouds your every step, that guilt that struggles to break through amidst the situation. The desire to relinquish humanity, yet the desire to remain human pisses him off.

"You're a selfish jerk, Shizu-chan."

"I am." Shizuo's voice was resigned, and later cynical, "Aren't we all?"

Izaya was looking at Shizuo but he feels as if he was looking through a looking glass.


Dear Christ! the very prison walls
Suddenly seemed to reel,
And the sky above my head became
Like a casque of scorching steel;
And, though I was a soul in pain,
My pain I could not feel.


"You're my shadow, Shizuo." Izaya commented, after having his hands on his long-awaited psychology collection. The cover of his book showed 'Analytic Psychology' by 'Carl Jung'.

"Whatever that means?" Shizuo muttered while systematically munching the stale bread provided by the prison guard.

"You are a part of me, the part of me I don't want to admit." Izaya drawled- stressing each word with a certain offhandedness. Funny how he can be so contradicting at times.

"Probably." Shizuo suddenly find himself staring at the bluish lines on Izaya's neck, was that a mark of torture?

"That-" Shizuo asks, pointing on the all too obvious marks.

"This is the proof that I love humans far too much- this is the proof that I hate them far too much. It was another proof that I exist for the sake of existing, not to love, to enjoy, to do the things i want." Izaya explained.

"Are you giving up the world as a lost case, Izaya?"

"I have done that long ago, Shizu-chan." A thin smile pasted on his lips. "Have you though- Shizu chan?"

"Maybe I haven't."

"Ever wondered why we're alive though?"

"Every day, every night. Even now, I'm afraid of dying myself."

"I suppose that's normal, you're a human after all." Izaya tossed the book, crawling nearer to Shizuo- too close that their lips are scratching the surface of another- Izaya whispering as the friction between their lips fizzled to a dim fire, "Shizuo- Shizuo."

Shizuo's fingers dug like talons on Izaya's arms, the hiss of pain escaping the lips that spoke only of desire,

"Do you want to try it- make love to me? It's funny Shizuo- you desire me, the creature you hate. And you love your brother- and you kill him. Do you know what that means?"

"Shut the fuck up-flea. Kasuka's too pure for you to speak of." Shizuo ran away, leaving Izaya lying on the cold floor. His fingers were holding the prison bars, the pain clenching as his eyes shut fiercely.

"And you think he's too pure to even exist. You robbed him of the life he could have led so admirably- and you robbed him of the life that he hold so dearly. Do you see his face when you choked him- don't you see it? All the pain- the anger the despair?!"

Shizuo's lips burned as he kissed Izaya's. The tongue was burning as Shizuo bit Izaya's tongue.

And that was when they slept together.


I only knew what hunted thought
Quickened his step, and why
He looked upon the garish day
With such a wistful eye;
The man had killed the thing he loved
And so he had to die.