AN: ...Boredom and pain meds kind of combined to create this. That's about the only defense I can be bothered to come up with.
WARNING for torture.
He called her back too soon.
Tsukuyomi straightened her glasses so that she had a clearer view of the bar she was watching. Her hand shook.
Fate-han shouldn't have called her back before she was done.
Her body was still shaking. Every fiber of her being was fighting to get back to Senpai—to finish what she had just barely started.
Senpai's flesh was so pale.
So soft.
If only there had been a chance to slice into her properly. The blood would have flowed everywhere, leaking down her chest until every inch of her was drenched in the glorious crimson liquid. Her feathers would be bathed in it, attracting every last drop.
And then Tsukuyomi would have tasted her Senpai for herself, putting aside her blades and letting there be nothing but skin and blood between them.
In the end, she only got to see a blank canvas.
Unspoiled.
Untouched.
Pure.
She wanted to mark that perfectly white skin, coloring it red until the delectable hue was all that was left of her Senpai.
The bar door opened, and a small, tipsy brunette walked out.
Tsukuyomi smiled.
Perfect.
A few small charms had the puppet pinned to a wall and silent before Tsukuyomi even made herself visible.
Fate-han would not approve of this.
But he had only himself to blame, calling her back so quickly.
Tsukuyomi stepped forward to examine the sobering puppet.
It was female, and her skin was pale.
She was nothing like the unmarred beauty that Senpai was, but she would do.
These puppets—illusion or not, they bled like the real thing. They felt. They cried. They screamed.
They begged.
Tsukuyomi would not allow this one to do any but the first. Out of respect for Fate-han, she would not get caught.
And the voice she heard would not be Setsuna-senpai's.
She leaned forward and cupped the puppet's face, licking away the tears. Too salty—far too salty, but she wasn't about to stop now.
The fear was there. Completely silent, but the numb, abject horror in the puppet's eyes was growing by the second. The begging had already begun.
Tsukuyomi sighed blissfully and pressed herself closer to her prey, holding her blades loosely in her hands. She could hear the puppet's heartbeat spiraling out of control. The blood would come quickly. She would have to do this slowly if she wanted satisfaction.
She lifted her knife to the puppet's shirt and traced a circle around each of the buttons on it, pushing just enough so the edge could be felt through the fabric. Tears dripped down the puppet's face, dampening the shirt.
Tsukuyomi smoothly slid her knife under the first button, watching her captive's eyes widen even further as it popped off and fell to the ground.
One…
Two…
Three…
The shirt split open, letting Tsukuyomi have her first true look at what she had to work with.
The puppet was more developed than Setsuna-senpai, but had none of the muscle of a martial artist. Still, her skin was soft, and Tsukuyomi's sword slid across her stomach easily, leaving a trail of red in its wake.
Tsukuyomi could feel the heat building in her stomach and spreading outward.
Yes…
This was the feeling. This was a lesser version of what she had felt earlier, with Senpai pinned underneath her, struggling to free herself.
This was the feeling that Setsuna-senpai had encouraged with less than a look.
Tsukuyomi moaned. She dragged her sword upward, ever so lightly smearing blood across the puppet's chest. Her other blade reached up and quickly removed the bra that still hid her prey's breasts. Two quick slices dug into the newly revealed flesh.
Blood seeped easily from them.
Tsukuyomi brought her knife to her lips and tasted the dark liquid before sampling the cuts themselves. There was such a difference in flavor when the surrounding skin was added in. She couldn't stand to have it just one way.
She carefully removed the rest of the clothing from the puppet, easily slicing it to shreds. Limiting herself to the torso would only make this quicker.
The burning in her chest told her that taking the puppet quickly would not be enough to satiate the lust Senpai had sparked.
So slowly, so slowly, she took both of her blades and thrust them gently into the puppet's legs, twisting them as she went.
The puppet's face contorted in pain, her mouth open wide in a soundless scream as the metal exited out the back of her legs. The limited muscle in her arms tensed, fighting against the spell binding her to the wall.
Tsukuyomi dearly would have loved to cut into the tendons standing out so prominently in the puppet's wrists, but she knew better than to slice that area when she was using the kill to pleasure herself.
She tore her blades from the puppet's legs and eased them into the hamstrings that were located oh so conveniently above where the exit wounds were dripping blood. Tsukuyomi allowed herself a quick taste before continuing to move back up the body.
She needed to see the expression more clearly. This puppet was no Senpai, but seeing a stale imitation was better than nothing at all. She wanted to know how close this mockery of a human was to breaking completely.
That was not something she had any desire to miss.
The puppet was looking very hopeless at the moment.
But she was not yet broken.
Tsukuyomi would be changing that soon.
Never breaking eye contact, she took her knife and delicately slit the puppet's fingers open at every knuckle, pressing just a little bit deeper at the tips, leaving only slivers of skin to keep them attached to the main body.
The puppet's eyelids started fluttering open and shut faster than Tsukuyomi cared to count. Her pupils were so dilated that the irises were all but invisible. They were a faint brown color.
Similar.
Very similar to Setsuna-senpai's contact lenses.
Tsukuyomi felt her core tighten at the thought.
Then the puppet had to ruin the effect by losing consciousness.
Forgetting herself for a moment, Tsukuyomi drove both of her weapons into the puppet's kneecaps, further mutilating the legs and jolting her captive back to a shattered world of agony.
It might have been better to wait for a fighter after all.
But then the differences in style would have been too great—appearance could be ignored, but fighting styles were too glaring to miss.
And no one could compete with her Senpai's.
Tsukuyomi did not let that thought develop. It would only spoil the mood now.
Sliding her blades back out, she brought both of them up to her captive's face. She dragged them across the puppet's forehead, sending rivets of blood down to mingle with the smears of tears and sweat on the face that wasn't quite right.
The puppet broke.
The eyes stared straight ahead, and all attempts at movement stopped. The puppet was just a limp ragdoll, held up the small bit of magic used to subdue it.
Tsukuyomi giggled euphorically into the puppet's shoulder. Oh yes, this was it.
She jabbed open an old scar placed near the broken doll's collarbone.
Splitting open the abdomen more directly came next.
Then the shoulders.
The palms.
The elbows.
The neck—
Aaaah.
Blood splashed across Tsukuyomi's face. She moved her hand to wipe the lovely fluid out of her eyes.
That was a little too fast, wasn't it?
She licked her palm thoughtfully.
The doll did not look up to further playing. It was most assuredly dead at this point.
Too fast.
Definitely too fast.
Tsukuyomi released the body from the wall and sat down on the ground, cleaning her blades quickly with her mouth.
She lowered her bloody hand between her legs.
Much too fast.
She still wanted Setsuna-senpai.