Odin and Fenrir

A soft click. The safety was released behind his shoulder blades.

“You’ve got guts. Or are you just a fool?”

The voice behind him—he’d heard it countless times. His pulse quickened. A smile rose to his lips before he realized it.

With a gun pointed at him, Kaizuka Inaho slowly raised both hands to face level, palms open.

“Probably a bit of both.”

But—within the pause he allowed, he twisted his body forward and back in one swift motion, drawing the small pistol concealed in his sleeve.

“The truth is a lot simpler than that.”

He didn’t fire. Neither did the other. Both remained still, each breathing in the scent of gunpowder and steel, nostrils twitching.

Azure. The frozen flame in Slaine’s eyes locked onto his target, wild and precise.

“Tell me, so I can take it to the grave.”

His mouth curled into a cynical smirk and froze.

Yes—this was it. This was who he truly was.

Fangs bared at the coming Ragnarok, claws drawn, mane trailing in the moonlit wind, howling like Fenrir unbound.

Inaho quietly closed his left eye and looked at him with his flesh and blood alone.

“I came to see you, Slaine.”

Two gunshots.

They dissolved into the void and vanished without a trace.

[Odin and Fenrir]