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They said that to believe is to be human.
Belief was something that came far too natural to humans, mere ants thrown in a universe way too big for them to really comprehend - and there was nothing that scared the human mind more than something it couldn’t understand.
And so each person, every time, tried to find their own answer to the existential question that was life - for many, that answer resided in faith.
This was a statement true even for assassins, although some may have argued they didn’t even fit the criteria to be really called ‘human’, and so couldn’t act as such.
But even if that had been really true and assassins were nothing but soulless monsters, still they too irrationally clung on to belief despite themselves.
Some of them still bowed in front of the small shrines in their homes, like they’d been taught by their parents when they were still little and pure.
For others though, god was different from the one they’d been told of - they believed in deities that were far too good for being responsible for the existence of murderers like them, or that even looked at their doing in contempt.
Others had even found their own god in the act of the killing itself, in a deity that carved its altar in the torn flesh and considered the pained screams that preceded death odes in its honor.
Such was the assassins’ way of believing.
Their hands may have been stained in blood, but still they joined them in prayer.
But like in any other human social group, assassins with no faith also existed. If god actually was real, these people wondered, he wouldn’t let us stay alive.
A god that lets murderers like us run free would be just too cruel, that was their reasoning, and they found that thought somewhat comforting.
And out of all these groups, Uzuki Kei was neither an atheist nor a believer.
Instead, Kei was a fool - a self-defined one.
Belief was something that came way too easy to him; but belief, like hope, could be intoxicating, always ending up clouding his senses and promising him the moon, until it mercilessly cut his hesitant wings right as his fingers brushed against its desired surface.
His faith was always misplaced, and it inevitably only ended up hurting him and those he tried to protect.
It went like this: Kei would believe in something, in someone, he’d ruthlessly get stabbed in the back, and yet no matter how many times it happened, he’d always fall for it again and again.
This was how life was for him, the unending cycle of a fool who couldn’t bring himself to believe in an actual god, one that if it existed had brought upon him only miseries, but also couldn’t stop himself from yearning for something to believe in.
Something that wouldn’t betray his faith - that for once, would coddle it.
He was a fool that knew that he was getting led by the nose, but still blindly chose to believe against all the evidence.
Helpless, some would call him. A gone case, a lost soul desperately wandering in the search of a deity to worship.
And this was exactly why when he first saw Rion, he’d immediately known it.
Kei had understood from her movements alone that she was not one to waste her time praying, and yet when she swung her knives the wind hummed hymns. She swore she didn’t believe in any god, but still everything in her movements screamed of faith.
He’d understood that Rion wasn’t the type to pray but rather, she was the one people prayed to - while they were on their knees with her knives resting on their throat, as she cut off the supplication before it could reach its final begging.
Rion was none other than a goddess, and Kei was the fool who couldn’t help but strive towards the divine light she shone.
Some could say they were just a disaster waiting to happen from the moment they’d first locked eyes.
For her part, Rion was a goddess that cared very little for what that imposed title meant - her killing was neither punishment given to sinners nor a blessing bestowed to lucky ones. She killed because it was a natural act to her, like it was eating or sleeping.
She searched for the thrill in it, but she rarely got rewarded by the feeling she was looking for.
Honed senses and talent, that was how Rion navigated the assassin world. She took pride in her own intuition, which had been helping her for all those years - and when she’d first seen Kei, that same intuition had immediately told her that the guy standing awkwardly beside her wasn’t cut for their world.
There was hesitation in his eyes that should've been focused, shaking in his hands that should’ve been firm.
A weakling, she’d labeled him, one that would either have to accept the harsh reality and leave, or end up dead on the job very soon.
But on a mission where she’d thought he’d have left her and the others to do all the work, he’d stuck around. He’d had the guts to stand up against her and had been actually able to help them.
It was with a newfound interest that Rion had looked at him then, on a car racing against time itself.
Her judgment hadn’t fundamentally changed: Uzuki Kei still wasn’t a man fit for the ruthless world of assassins.
But her reason for reaching this conclusion this time was less for cowardice, and more for the flame she’d glimpsed burning behind his light eyes - the guy was filled to the brim with kindness, one so pure it threatened of blinding Rion when she dared to look.
Kindness was something so rare to find around her, because in their bleak world it was nothing short of a naive illusion - only a helpless fool could have such a bleeding kind heart and still hope to make it out alive.
Yet Kei had so much kindness left in himself despite everything, that Rion couldn’t help but feel drawn towards him.
Intrigue, curiosity, an undying faith - whatever it was that brought them together, before they knew it their hands had joined, not quite in prayer but in the closest thing to it they knew, and they’d run towards an uncertain future together.
Kei had told her his story, what his undying kind heart and faith were for, and Rion had decided to trust.
She’d trusted her two friends to be able to survive without her, for a while. She’d trusted Kei and his foolish hope and his kind smile enough to follow him, and she’d trusted her heart enough to hope that the one she took was the right choice.
She’d trusted, and in return Kei had believed. He’d believed in her, he’d believed in his faith - he’d believed they could really all be happy.
The deity and the devotee.
A clichè, Rion would say. A heresy, Kei would reply.
(An unexpected bliss in such a cruel world, both would concur.)
The year they spent together had been something completely new to the both of them, spent hiding and on the run, always with the risk of not having anything to eat for dinner - and yet, Kei had found himself thinking he’d never been so happy in his whole life.
After Rion had descended into his life she’d shown him possibilities he’d never dared to dream of until then.
Being with Rion was like standing beside an all consuming wildfire, and Kei reveled in her burning warmth.
But the happiness he was feeling was still a deeply guilty one.
He was terribly aware that while he was out there wasting his time, his family was still at Al-Kamar and that every day that went by without any progress on his part was a day they spent being used, tortured and humiliated, while Kei was wasting away his newfound freedom.
This freedom was new and terrifying, something he’d never gotten the chance to taste before - even while he was quite literally being hunted down, he’d never been more free in his life.
It was a really frightening feeling.
Sometimes he felt like it was all too much for somebody like him; he felt like a bird that, after a life spent knowing only the metallic bars of his cage, was suddenly told to come out and fly towards the infinite sky, never looking back again.
Kei had his own two wings, but some days it seemed they hadn’t been meant to ever be spread, but to be forever chained, his feet meant to never leave the ground they stood on.
An overwhelming freedom that was, one he didn’t feel like he was skilled enough to actually make a use of. He was sure if it had been Gaku, or Kumanomi, or any of his siblings back at the orphanage in his place, they would’ve already found a way to save everybody.
Instead, he was the one that had managed to find a gap in the cage - he had been the one to tumble down on the floor, and so now he was the one who had to spread his heavy and insecure wings, and try to save everything he held dear.
But at least, he could say he wasn’t alone in this new world he was trying to navigate - somebody was there to guide him, help him, the most free person he’d ever known was there to hold his hand and convince him to jump off and start flying.
With her, with Rion, his guiding light, his goddess, Kei could truly believe they’d be able to do it. They’d be able to save his family, and then they could start a new life. He dreamed of that new life, dreamed of how the light of freedom would look shining down on the faces of his loved ones.
But oh, how naive dreams can be sometimes - almost as naive as faith itself.
On that dreadful day, as he got into their house uninvited and intruded into their life, Asaki didn’t knock; just like fate, he never warned of his arrival.
“One last mission,” he’d told Kei.
One last mission, one single kill, the blood of a stolen life staining his hands - but if that meant freeing his family, it appeared like a cheap price.
If it meant actually being able to help, if it meant finally being useful for those he loved, if it meant Rion wouldn’t have to kill anymore just to keep them afloat - then he could do it, if just one time.
So despite every part of his being screaming that he was making a mistake, he accepted, and ignored the bitter aftertaste that choice left in his mouth, ignored the lingering feeling of having just signed a pact with a malicious devil.
He was going to make his first kill.
(She was going to make her last kill.)
Now, the thing about being a goddess was, it could be quite the lonely experience.
As the nature of their relationship required, a god and their devotee could never be totally honest with each other, never truly be on the same page.
Rion’s follower was a kind person - and kindness was a trait so rare in the world she lived in, surrounded by fake idols and empty prayers, that he had shone like a colorful jewel resting between depressingly grey rocks.
From the first day the boy had left offerings on her altar, Rion had sworn she’d protect him and his kind soul with everything she could.
And doing so required getting more blood on her hands, an act that came as easy as breathing to her, even if it upset him - but it also required lying, required swearing promises she knew she could never keep, and required secrets.
For all he tried, a devotee could never completely know his goddess. Such was the nature of divinity, cursed to always be a step ahead of unknowing mortals, deception always quick on their gold tinted lips even if it was just to protect their devotees. Such was the nature of a goddess’ love.
It was unfair, terribly so - Rion knew way too well, and couldn’t bring herself to care nearly enough. It was unfair, all that she was doing to him behind his back, but if it meant Kei would be safe, she couldn’t pretend she regretted it.
It was all to protect him, afterall.
And so it was only natural that when she’d seen Kei in front of her that day, ready to fight to the death -when she’d seen how cruelly the universe had played its cards- she hadn’t fought back.
She’d looked in his focused eyes and, as blood stained her tired grin, Rion had known this was how she died.
The deity and the devotee, a tale as old as time.
Oh, how naive, how blind. Didn’t they know the stories? Didn’t they know of the machinations of fate?
Didn’t they know that their love had been since long written in the characters of tragedy, in the language of loss, doomed to end only in blood and tears?
Now there Kei stood, kneeling over the cold body of the woman he loved and the goddess he revered. Dead.
Or better, killed with his own two sinful hands.
Now there Rion died, with a soft smile on her features and with ragged breaths from her throat, muttering a last prayer for damaged kind souls.
Rion’s eyes turned glassy, her chest ceased moving, her oh so welcome hand on Kei’s cheek fell on the ground, leaving behind only a smudge of blood. Her blood. Rion’s blood.
Rion died - and it was his fault.
It didn’t matter that they’d been set up, how it had been a carefully laid trap. Kei had still been the one to wield the weapon that pierced through her body and left her cold and bloody on the ground.
This was a sin he could never atone for, the most severe one he could’ve ever committed. The act of killing one’s god. His own goddess.
Even while knowing he didn’t deserve to do so, he’d prayed to die right there, beside Rion’s cooling body.
As always, fate had merely laughed in the face of his feverish wish.
When Kei had finally gotten away, he’d done so with his flowing blood mixing with Rion’s almost dried one, all on his heretical hands. He’d done so on wobbly legs, and in his mouth nothing but curses for his still being able to move and breathe.
He’d done so with the feeling that on that day, a part of him had died with Rion - and with his goddess, gone was his seemingly unwavering faith.
Gone was the fool's faith.
When Uzuki Kei woke up again after that day, bandaged and aching, he did so as another person. Almost like the coldness of Rion’s body had been imprinted so deeply in his fingertips, that it had managed to infect his very soul. That day, he'd sworn vengeance.
Afterall, there was nothing more terrifying than an assassin that had lost all his faith - he could only hope that everybody that had done this to them would soon get to know so very well.