Necromancy
Sometimes, Fate has a wonderful way of saying "Hello." I thought it would be any other day on my way home from school when an attack from an alleyway's resident serial killer leads to my death and then my unlife. Cue a demon with anger-management problems and a baffling curse and you've basically got my life. Looks like I'm really living up to my nickname— Icarus. Astaroth/OC
Genre: Horror, Drama, Adventure, and a dash of Romance.
A/N: Yah, I wonder where these ideas come from as well ^^' Generally, I frown upon canon!character/OC stories as a rule of thumb, but I thought that if I were to write one for ANE, it might as well be for someone who rarely gets paired w/ anyone— or even written about! Yay Astaroth, my first victim :P I want to do some characterization w/ him, since odds are that in the manga he's a) not going to be whoever possessed Shiratori or b) never show up/ be exorcised or something before his personality is developed. I know the story says Astaroth/OC but it may not even reach that romantically; it'll probably end up only platonic, but we'll see :P
Warnings: Probably my third attempt writing in first person—ever. I'm not a fan of it, tbh, but it's good to branch out—I'm sure it'll help my mediocre writing (I hope). Gore and violence is also prevalent, at least in this chap. Oh, and strong language, courtesy Astaroth. And if I didn't somehow slip his 'human barbeque' line into this fic, it would be a travesty :P
So yes, this story is set a few weeks before the start of the anime. I will not be following either the anime or manga as far as plotline, but I am taking the anime's idea that Reiji Shiratori is possessed by Astaroth and not some random low-level demon (as it is hinted in the manga). Without further ado, here is chapter 1 of Necromancy!
Disclaimer: I claim no ownership of Blue Exorcist! The lyrics in this chapter are from Icarus by Bastille, one of my all-time favorite bands. You should totally check them out if you get the chance!
Chapter 1- Saving Icarus
Icarus is flying too close to the sun
Icarus's life, it has only just begun
This is how it feels to take a fall
Icarus is flying towards an early grave
.
.
In hindsight, the whole idea reeked of danger. But, of course, my arrogance tends to lend itself to these sorts of situations. With my back pressed against the wall of this god-forsaken alley, I could only watch with horror as my assailant approached, knife in hand. He had one of those twisted sneers on his face, the smiles that you knew could only lead to two things: death or something much, much, worse.
"So, there isn't any way we can talk this out?" I asked, berating myself for my own stupidity as soon as the words left my mouth. This wasn't what normal people did in life or death situations! Sure, begging, crying, or even fighting back flashed in my mind (I'm more of a flight person, mind you), but I just couldn't drop the jokester act for even a second. It had become enough of a defense mechanism that now, when I was actually facing a danger that could potentially end my life, the jokes continued to spill from my lips.
As expected, my attacker didn't find my words the least bit persuasive. He probably didn't even hear them, really. He grunted again, slow, lumbering steps growing louder with every footfall. His eyes took on a glossy look, and for a moment I swore I saw a dark mass floating by his head. It looked like a group of radioactive flies with glowing eyes. But, the vision quickly disappeared with the man's chuckle.
"You're going to be fun to kill." He said, licking his lips grotesquely.
I shuddered, wrapping my arms tightly around my torso partly for comfort and partly to hide my shivers. Coward, my mind taunted. This was my fault to begin with, and now, here I am, shaking in my boots. Call it cowardice, call it stupidity, I only had myself to blame. Take the shortcut home through the alley, my mind had rationalized, nothing bad ever happens in dark, isolated alleyways. Do it so you don't have to walk home with all the people who had seen you fall flat on your sorry face in the cafeteria. My peers' laughs rang out in my head again.
"Looks like Icarus is at it again!"
"How isn't that the name she was born with?! It fits so well!"
Ever since my lower secondary school's opening ceremony, I had been 'gifted' that particular nickname. I had fallen asleep during the principal's particularly long speech and after being woken by a teacher (who apparently thought I had died—I tend to be a very deep sleeper), I fell out of my chair with a screech, right on my face.
The English teacher, who probably meant well, tried to help me laugh the incident off. He explained the story of Icarus and likened my descent to Icarus's fall (he probably meant this in the nicest way possible… I think). He laughed even more when I told him that my first name, Haruko was written with the kanji for sun and child, while my last name, Ikari, was written with the kanji for anchor. Afterwards, the nickname kind of just stuck, especially since I tended to fall— a lot. As my mother had put it so eloquently, I was 'a walking bad-luck charm.'
It seemed that I was truly living up to the name. If only I had gone home as soon as school had let out. But no, I had to go feel sorry for myself at the children's park, sitting on the swing-set, wrapped in my own thoughts until the sun had nearly sunk below the horizon. And then running through the alley, I just had to stop and see if that unconscious man was alright. It would have been fine if he was just a passed out drunk, but, as my luck would have it, he had to be a deranged psychopath with a penchant for sharp things and 'cute girls' as he had told me moments before pinning me to the brick wall.
"Hold still, I don't want to cut your cute face." He said in an overly sweet, saccharine voice. I felt the cold metal of the blade against my neck as I struggled, the fear finally settled over me. I kicked, screamed, thrashed, did everything aside from biting the man until he pressed a sweaty palm over my mouth, growling out a laundry list of threats. Let's just say that the words were enough to turn my screams to whimpers, returning my hands to my side in defeat.
The familiar sting of tears welled in my eyes. I was only fifteen; I hadn't done anything particularly bad in my life to deserve this. I wanted to curse all the gods I had heard of—and even those I hadn't as the man drew the blade over my neck, creating a sickly line of red. I squirmed under his hand, the pain causing the tears to fall from my eyes. Just as I had given up all hope, ready to embrace my fate, I turned my head to the side and saw a lone figure standing just outside the alley.
H-help! I internally screamed, grey eyes trained to the stranger who would hopefully become my savior. He stood there, not moving, for what seemed like a century until he flashed a sharp grin, shrugging.
"Don't mind me. I just need to get by." He said, pointing a finger towards the opposite opening of the alley. His white hair shined silver in the light from the decrepit lamppost as he merely tipped his head towards me, hands stuffed in his pockets. I could see that his eyes were an unnatural shade of burgundy, appearing almost crimson.
"He's right, you know. Struggling's only gonna make it worse." His tone was almost lyrical as he passed us, barely sparing either me or my assailant a second glance. Passing through the belly of the red alleyway, he stopped again, looking at us almost expectantly.
"So, are you going to kill her or not?" It was said with such a casualness that I almost thought I hadn't heard him correctly. I wished he had said something different. It was obvious now that this stranger was just going to let me die. I struggled again. How could someone be so cold?! His eyes were on me again suddenly, indifferent and without warmth. It was so… inhuman. It wasn't a gaze of malice or amusement, which would be easier to accept, but one of a true outside observer. Of someone who was watching a lab rat in a glass cage or something equally underfoot. A gaze of a god looking down at a village swallowed in flames.
The attacker let out a cackle, pressing the blade to my neck, harder this time. "Of course! I'm tired of being looked down on! I'll show the world something it's never seen before!"
There was no change of expression in the white-haired man's face. "Go on with it, then. I've got places to be."
His words caused something inside of me to break. Wrestling out of the man's grasp, I screamed at the stranger. "How can you just watch this happen?! Don't you have a conscience?!"
There was a searing pain in my back, causing me to buckle immediately to the dirty ground. Looking at my abdomen, I saw my school uniform blazer had been dyed red with my blood. My vision faded just as I caught a glimmer of silver poking out of my stomach; the knife had cut straight through my ribcage.
The last thing I heard before my vision faded was a hollow laugh, followed by a string of incomprehensible words. "I'd probably feel bad about you dying… if I were human."
The few moments after my loss of consciousness were indescribable. It was a cold weightlessness that seeped into my very bones. I felt like liquid iron had been injected into my veins, causing an unusual, heavy lethargy. There was only silence, a dreadful emptiness that could have lasted a century or a second; time seemed almost irrelevant in this limbo of life. But then I was slammed back onto the rough cement of the alley, my brain frantically trying to control my gasps.
Looking up, I saw that my would-be killer had been decapitated, his head in the firm grasp of the silver-haired stranger. I screamed, pressing my body against the brick wall again. At the time, my brain couldn't even comprehend how my wounds had healed or how the apparently weaponless man had made a deep, jagged cut into my assailant's neck that had caused his head to fall off.
The man sighed in annoyance, tossing the head away. I watched in horror as the body slowly rotted away, flesh bubbling with enough of a putrid odor that I thought I would pass out. In minutes, the pile of decaying skin had turned to bleached bone.
"Stop that screeching. It's fucking annoying." He cursed, approaching me with his bloodstained hands—claws?! Sure enough, I could see long, sharp talons on his fingers, coupled with an arrow-shaped tail that swung wildly behind him.
"D-demon?" I stuttered, all my usual retorts or sharp words gone with my sanity. I had to be bundled up in a strait-jacket, locked away in some mental ward; there was no way this man was a monster or that I had survived the attack, with my previous wounds completely gone.
"Heh, smart girl. I am Astaroth, King of Rot. Now, you owe me quite a bit…" He spoke darkly, reaching out a bloodstained hand to my chin. He tipped it forward, causing me to stare directly into his scarlet eyes, pupils turned to slits.
"S-stay back…" I whispered, voice caught in my throat. The fear had never left, and now, with an actual monster in front of me, I could barely keep my eyes open.
"That's not very nice, saying that to the person who saved your life."
You didn't— you let me die! I wanted to retort, but the fear and probably my own unconscious feelings of self-preservation kept me from voicing my opinion.
"First, I've gotta test something. Hold still." Without warning he stabbed his hand straight into my chest. I choked out blood, eyes rolling back in my head from the searing pain. I felt myself begin to drown in my own blood and panicked, reaching out blindly against my attacker. The pain lasted for another few moments before I felt my airways begin to clear. I could feel the blood returning to my chest and the wound lacing itself closed. I began to breathe normally again, feeling for the wound; it had closed completely in less than a minute.
"W-what?"
Astaroth gave a sharp grin, exposing a set of pointed canines. "You are under my service now. We will be looking for someone important. I do not know his name here on Assiah, but he is of the highest nobility in Gehenna. He is the son of Satan."
"What did you do to me?!" I yelled, almost belligerent. I didn't understand anything. What were Assiah and Gehenna? What about this nobility? And, more importantly, did he mean the actual Satan?
Compared to his rough gesture before, he tugged on my arm, obviously holding back his strength. He then rolled his eyes. "You have a lot to learn, protégé. Just be lucky I decided to save you. There are demon eaters everywhere who would give up their souls for your position."
He stopped suddenly, still holding my arm. "Speaking of which, what's your name? If you don't tell me I'll just call you some variant of 'human trash' or 'human barbeque.'"
I responded immediately, voice surprisingly unwavering, given the situation. "It's Haruko Ikari. But, I go by Icarus."
He gave a genuine chuckle, clutching at his stomach with his free hand. His tail flickered again due to his amusement. "How interesting. I like it."
With his words swimming through my head, I let the white-haired demon drag me out of the alley, and unknowingly, towards my Fate.
A/N: I hope this chapter wasn't too OOC for Astaroth :P He got all of one episode so… characterization will be interesting, to say the least.
Review?
-Isis