Coming of the Tides
By SMYGO4EVA
There will always be a time when the darkness holds too many secrets that even good sense cannot prevail. When that time comes, fear takes over. Then there are those times when the dark is just a sanctuary. Those times when the dark would open its arms to comfort.
With a smirk, the dark steps forward and envelopes the unsuspecting boy. A young boy – no more than seventeen – wrapped up in a cloak of darkness, blood-violet eyes and golden tanned fingers holding him close. A shiver ran through the young boy's form and for a moment he tried to pull away. But the darkness increased its grip and a voice purred into his pale ear.
"Where are you going, Akito? You aren't afraid, are you?" The velvety voice alarmed the boy for a moment, but he stilled – paralyzed, his face vacant.
"Who," the boy whispered, an intake of breath, "Who are you-"
"I am called Marik, but you know me as the one that is everlasting, that will never be broken. I am made from my foolish side's darkest emotions, hatred, fear, loathing, and despair. You can't get rid of the darkness, Akito," The voice of sweet temptation purred. "I'll always be here… even when you think I'm gone… when you least expect it, I'll be there."
Again, the boy tried to pull away, but the darkness held tight.
Suddenly the dark enclosed the two of them in its embrace, dragging them down, down, into the depths of the Earth. The boy struggled in the confines of that dark embrace, writhing and kicking. The dark surged, encasing the boy's legs, pushing them together.
The darkness emerged from the cloaking shadows and the shadows began to drift away, revealing the figure. He looked human, dressed with a long purple cape with a gold chain settled over his shoulders, a sleeveless black shirt and khaki pants. Golden earrings, neckwear, armbands and bracelets up his wrists adorned him, an ancient one and a chosen one possibly by birthright or by bloodshed. His icicle- blonde hair was spiked upwards, pointing in all directions and he bore the Eye of Wdjat on his forehead. He watched the perturbed Knightmare pilot with an amused, hungry gaze.
The darkness only held him tighter, clutching the boy to his chest. "You can't escape me, Akito… not until I let you go…"
But Akito didn't stop struggling; he only closed his eyes to the dark and imagined he was beneath the moon, in his Knightmare Unit, nearing the battlefields where surely blood was being spilt.
His struggling increased – until the darkness was forced to pin the boy's arms to his sides.
"Akito, Akito, Akito…" the velvety voice purred into his ears, "You disappoint me… I thought you liked the heart of battle. Isn't that why your enemies call you Hannibal's Ghost? Just think of this as one which will never end…"
Akito's eyes opened enough to glare at the dark around him, gritting his teeth and struggling all the harder. But Marik moved out of the way, and he slipped around Akito, letting the tendrils hold him securely. He smiled at the boy, one finger slipping under the boy's chin.
"Oh, Akito… that look… it gives me shivers…" The darkness purred, leaning in close and giving the boy a light, chaste kiss.
The boy flinched and spat at Marik's cheek, glowering, daring the other to retaliate.
After the first moment of indignation, the darkness reached up and whipped the saliva off his cheek. With a predatory smirk on his lips, Marik tsked at the boy, his eyes hooded and shaded. "Oh, Akito… you shouldn't have done that… It only makes me want to break you…"
"Go to Hell." the boy growled, pulling at his bonds.
The demon moved closer, threading his fingers through the boy's hair. "We're already there."
Thin tendrils of ebony stretched out from the blackness to caress his open hand and twine their way around his tanned fingers. The darkness that engulfed the demon and the boy pulsed slightly, finding rhythm with the beat of the demon's heart.
"Fight me, Akito," the darkness purred into the young man's ear, biting once, twice. "Fight me with all your strength…"
Marik slowly trailed a hand beneath Akito's shirt, digging in with his talons. Red rivers blossomed on the boy's flesh as Akito tugged and fought harder, jerking at his restraints. His mouth gritted even tighter to smother the silent cry of pain, tears springing to his eyes.
But those tears didn't fall. He shut his eyes to the rising tears and the pain that stained his chest. The talons dug harder into his flesh, Marik watching with feverish eyes as the boy convulsed and jolted at each inch those claws cut.
"Scream for me, Akito…"
The words barely registered, but it was enough for Akito to shake his head in denial. He wasn't going to scream. He wouldn't give Marik the satisfaction.
"This is all smoke and mirrors. I know better than to believe in such things," Akito said, his voice even, "You call yourself a demon. But you're just a lonely man, a figment of someone's imagination."
With a knowing smirk, Marik pulled his hand away; long enough to retrieve a dagger of golden – dark, sharp, and absorbing light with every second – then Marik was back in front of Akito, a finger trailing down the boy's cheek.
"You will scream for me, Akito… you don't have a choice…" the demon hissed as he leaned forward to whisper in the pilot's ear. Akito shivered as a spike of hair softly brushed his cheek.
The boy slowly opened his eyes and regretted it immediately. Blue eyes fell on the sharp blade and the unfamiliar feeling of despair settled into the pit of his stomach.
Akito held unnaturally still, aware of the point of the blade as it moved just above his flesh, skin prickling. When the blade sliced the last bits of thread holding Akito's uniform shirt in place, the pilot let out a breath he wasn't aware he'd been holding. The reaction only made Marik chuckle, the cruel smirk on his lips deepening.
"Oh, Akito… your fear is intoxicating…"
Akito swallowed hard, glaring, trying to show he wasn't afraid. But Marik knew better. He examined the blade, aware that Akito's eyes never left the sharp edge. Meticulously, Marik ran the blade's point lightly down Akito's front; though it did not cut, it left the impression that it could at a moment's notice. Akito again held his breath, terrified to take even a single breath, move even a single centimeter.
"Careful now, Akito… or I might just cut you…" The blade seemed to 'slip' from the darkness's grasp and he made no move to catch it – even as it sliced into the boy's inner thigh.
Akito cried out in sudden pain, jerking his leg as far as he could away from the blade.
"Oops. Clumsy me…" Marik purred, taking the blade in one hand and stroking Akito's injured thigh with the other. His fingers fiddled briefly with the wound, making Akito shudder and groan in pain. Tears he had been holding back trickled down his cheeks. With a smile, Marik leaned over the boy and licked those tears off Akito's cheeks.
"Delicious… you just don't know how intoxicating your fear is … especially now, mixed with pain… oooh… I don't think I'll ever let you go…"
The blade trailed up the boy's front, adding another rivulet of red, causing the boy to wince with the pain.
He screamed in pain when Marik buried the dagger in his thigh.
Marik moved again first, trailing his fingers down the boy's bloody body. He purred in delight when he reached the golden blade and pitilessly pulled the blade out. The boy grunted – having the energy for nothing else.
"Oh, Akito… you have that darkness….do not let it go to waste, dear boy…" Marik purred, his voice growing far away.
…Then sudden light intruded on Akito, viewing it through a rubicund film.
With a moan of pain and exhaustion, Akito turned onto his side – and suddenly shot up into a sitting position. Looking around in confusion, his groggy mind reminded him he was at the base.
"Must've fallen asleep…" he muttered, noting he was on a window seat. Why no one had bothered to wake him, he didn't really care.
Because that dream – no, nightmare – haunted him. As he moved, his body screamed in pain and protest. It was as if that nightmare had affected him physically. Terror gripped his chest and he pulled up his hoodie just a few inches.
With each inch, he saw more and more: scars that matched each cut from his nightmare. Gulping, he pulled his shirt down and glanced at his right thigh. He could feel the ugly scars he somehow knew were there.
The newborn scar was where that demon had 'dropped' his dagger.
And there was the one where the demon had buried the dagger into his thigh.
(A/N: This was my first crossover with Akito the Exiled, so forgive me if at times Akito may be out of character. Other than that, it's great to be writing again, even if it's as twisted such as this one was.)