Arahabaki

Chapter 1

Fyodor Dostoevsky has met 'God'. Not once, but twice. The first in the shrine of his lord, the second in the ruins of that shrine. This time shall be his third, but unlike others, this privilege grants no joy nor satisfaction, for Fyodor Dostoevsky hates 'God'.
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"What are you?"
The question hung in the air, the unease it brought to the one who asked similar to seeing a hanged man's body sway in the wind.
The barrel of the gun faced the man he asked, a bullet inside ready to meet grey matter, but sigma himself wasn't ready to pull the trigger. From the start, even if the man was evil, Fyodor had been with him, both him and Nikolai being the ones who had taught him, who had somewhat raised him, like how animals imprint on those who were there at the start, sigma's stomach churned and twisted at the idea of pulling the trigger.
Even so, he hadn't much of a choice, dazai was running out of time, being unable to move, and was a sitting duck for nakahara. The only chance he could give to dazai is if he could get Fyodor to retract the order, and for Fyodor to take him seriously he had to at least act like he was going to kill him. That was what he wanted to do originally, however he couldn't resist asking that question seeing that he had an opportunity now. From the time he was 'born' he had always felt something amiss with Fyodor, something setting him apart from the rest, and this was his chance to find out what it was. Something made Fyodor seem almost inhuman, almost as if he was staring down not at a man who had been shot and was at his mercy, but at a monster who was simply playing with him, allowing the illusion that he was the one in power when he was merely playing into his hand.
Violet eyes, cold and calculating stared back at him, as if he was searching for something in sigma, and he must have found it, for his placid expression twisted into a sneer.
"What am I?"
Sigma kept the gun trained on Fyodor as he stood up, in a way that seemed as if he could feel no pain at all, as if the bullet in his shoulder meant nothing at all. Anxiety drove him into a lightheaded state as he took shallow breaths, attempts to calm himself down as useless as he probably was to Fyodor now. But he had to overcome this, he needed to get Fyodor to withdraw the order. Time was ticking and the longer sigma spent here the closer nakahara got to dazai.
"You have 3 seconds, Dostoevsky, answer my question and take back that order."
Fyodor's sneer only grew wider at that as he raised his hands in mock surrender.
"Nakahara san, come back here, he is no longer your target."
Glancing at the surveillance camera, sigma wondered if dazai felt at all relieved now that death wasn't knocking at his door, only to be met with a horrified expression as dazai stared right back at him through the camera, shaking his head frantically. However, before sigma could even attempt to decipher the reason for dazai's reaction, a cold hand grabbed the barrel of the gun and pushed it down, and he turned back to see the gun now pointing at fyodor's heart, and a wicked smirk that sent chills down his spine.
"As for what I am,"
Sharp nails wrapped around his neck and he choked as he was thrown into a wall, barely catching a glance of red hair before he was blinded by pain stabbing through his nerves, letting out a silent scream at the impact. Cracking bones echoed in his ear as he pondered how nakahara even got back so fast.
However, that question had barely formed before it disintegrated under the pain as he was picked up and thrown into the opposite wall again. The chilling cracks of bone punctuated words he could barely register, but those words weren't meant for sigma, no, dazai could still hear each word Fyodor spoke.
"I am death, and I am arahabaki. That is what I am."
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I'll say this first, this is more of like exploring the concept than really writing so don't expect too much from this
And I'm not really focusing on the language aspect so uh
I hope you like it though 😃😃😃