Mm'kay, time for that whole little pep talk I do before you read the story, right? Yups. I began to write this story
in hopes to redeem myself after my last failure of a story... I need at least 1 mesely review for me to post the
next chapter. One review is all I ask; one tiny review and my computer screen will be aglow and start to emit sparkles. :3
Anywho, please R&R and most importantly, enjoy!
A tall, skinny girl somewhere in her mid-teens stood before a mirror, lines creasing her porcelain pale forehead. Branded on her forehead, hidden behind a layer of silky silver bangs, was the mark of the Kishin. Her eyes closely examined the mirror, in which stood a shadowed black figure.
'It's been so long since I've stood up…' She exhaled loudly and leaned against the wall behind her. She looked up at the ceiling of the cell, terrified of what lay outside the cement walls that held her captive. She lowered her head to stare at the leftover bandages that still clung to her left arm. She silently pulled it off, revealing the pale, white skin beneath. She flung the cloth on the ground and then looked back at the mirror.
"Shingami-sama, I still don't understand why you need me here at Shibusen. You've got plenty of promising students, after all." She felt very uncomfortable under the critical eye of the God of Death. Her posture showed it without a doubt. Her arms were crossed uncomfortably across her chest and her legs shook from the weight of holding her own body up off the ground.
"With your father now loose, we need all the assistance we can gather. I've already recalled as many Death Scythes back to Shibusen as I could." The girl did not respond, only shifted her eyes down to gaze absently at the floor. Her body twitched slightly; the thought of being at the place that was designed to fight off her own father frightened her. It was painfully ironic how the Kishin's own daughter would end up in the heart of Shibusen, speaking with the Shingami himself. Not to mention that he was trying to recruit her to fight against her own dad.
The Shingami spoke softer, his voice resounding gently across the room: "Ruri… We need you. The students here can't possibly defeat or even hold off your father on their own, and you know it." He paused and let out a pained sigh. Ruri uncrossed her arms and let them hand loosely at her side. She knew what he was going to say next, and she didn't interrupt him when he spoke.
"We need your gift, Ruri."
Ruri's stomach clenched; her throat tightened with the force of keeping back the tears that threatened to let loose and stream down her face. Scraps of memories engulfed her mind as she shook her head back and forth; she couldn't force them out of her mind. She crumpled to her knees, her head still shaking. The flood gates broke and the tears gushed violently from her eyes. Beads of sweat began to form, sticky and cool against her heated skin.
She squeezed her arms and hollered at the Shingami, "Why did you do this to me?! Why do you make me remember the things that I try so hard to forget?! I don't want to remember I don't want to remember I don't want to remember I don't want to remember!"
"Ruri, don't do this to yourself. You have a gift, and you should cherish…" Before he could finish, the girl's voice erupted into existence: "No! No! What's wrong with you? Why do you call it a gift? It's a curse, and you know it! I can't be normal with this! I'm a freak! I've been stuck in a dark coffin for hundreds of years and when you finally let me out you drop this bomb on me?!"
With that she curled her hand into a fist and smashed it into the mirror, an explosion of glass resulting as the mirror shattered into thousands of pieces. She let her body tilt to the right and then fall over, exhausted from the effort. She didn't want to be bothered anymore. She just wanted to fall asleep again and forget everything. She closed her eyes and drew her body up into a ball against the wall.
"Daddy…"