Thirty- The Demon Ororon

Quick note- facial markings and he stabs out his own eye and someone else's. How can I not love Othello and Mitsume?
-
Sometimes he sat in front of a mirror and closed his eyes. He couldn't see, but he pretended he could, pretended he could see his left arm reach out and touch the mirror, pretended there were four arms in his field of vision instead of two. But his eyes were closed, all the eyes he had, and he was right handed by necessity, not choice. With both eyes closed, he was blind.

"I've come to kill the Prince Othello." The room full of Seiryu Army officials sniggered quietly as aides scurried off. Mitsume waited, patiently. "Bring me Prince Othello, I have come to kill him."

A slender, dark haired man with an alcoholic swagger approached. "You're a pretty shitty assassin."

He'd spent too many years preparing for this day to be stopped. "I'm not an assassin. Tell him I'm here."

"He knows." Yotsuba took a long, desperate swig from his bottle. "You've come all this way, another day won't mean anything. He'll see you in the morning, at the Grand Stadium. Someone will show you to a room."

Mitsume nodded, and turned to leave.

"My mother was not the most beautiful woman in the world." Yotsuba's voice made him pause. "But I thought she was. Othello loved her more than anything else- more than fighting, more than me- and he smiled when he killed her. He hasn't stopped smiling since."

Mitsume shrugged without turning around. "He gave me a reason to live; I'm here to pay him back in kind."

He was at the door when Yotsuba tried again. "My father doesn't want to kill you."

Mitsume ignored him.

Mitsume ignored the chanting crowds- of course Othello had made this into a spectacle. The Prince of Hell was an expert in creating spectacles. He made a mockery of everything around him simply by existing.

"I'll fight you with both arms this time, I think." Othello laughed, mismatched eyes glittering.

Mitsume unwound the bandages around his forehead, revealing the gaping third eye socket. "You have something of mine. I'm here to take it back." He drew his sword.

Othello drew his sword as well. "I'm glad."

He wasn't smiling.