28/1/07 – This story was revised. I fixed whatever grammatical errors I could find, and attempted to establish better setting.

This story is dedicated to my kouhai, LITTLEDOGGY! It's a thank you for the late night company.

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The Demon Child
1: His Eyes

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In the vast room, a single window stretched from the floor to the ceiling, draped loosely by dark velvet curtains. A large, polished oak door was situated opposite it, barely noticeable in the shadows of the room.

Amidst the carpeted floor and the expensive furniture, a single plain wooden chair stood in front of the large window. A young man sat in it, his haggard features looking darker in the shadows. His raven black hair shone softly in the glow of the setting sun, deceiving others with the image of a fair halo atop his head. However, the few unfortunate souls who knew this boy could not be assuaged into thinking that he was an angel.

After all, he was given the nickname "Demon Child".

And now, standing in front of the mentioned creature, the young maid now knew why Natsume Hyuuga was called so. It was an apt moniker, she observed, despite her body's violent trembling and her scared shitless state of mind.

The Demon did not move – he had not even when the young lady had wrongly ventured into the room, mistaking it for her mistress' chamber. The maid was shaking in fear violently – that was not new to the boy. Many others responded as such before his gaze after all.

And now, the Demon's gaze was concentrated on the young maid, whose tea tray was clattering noisily with every violent jerk her arms involuntarily gave. The Demon was annoyed by the incessant noise, but he stared at her patiently, willing her to stop so silence could reign once more.

If only the maid hadn't been so noisy… If only the maid hadn't lost her way throughout the large Hyuuga manor… She could have lived another day.

The imposing oak door clicked open, and was shut closed with a firm snap. A lithe, dark-haired woman stepped into the room, stalking towards the trembling young woman stealthily.

The new maid had yet to notice her mistress.

Lady Hyuuga brandished a knife from her sweater sleeve, raising her arm high into the air. The maid, finally plucking the courage to turn around and exit the room, was stopped short by a knife stabbed into her neck.

Lady Hyuuga sidestepped the corpse nimbly, ignoring the flecks of tea that stained her brown leather shoes as the tea set fell and broke. She glanced at the dead body on the floor. Rich blood stained the carpet, and spilled tea was seeping into the lush fabric.

Smiling, Lady Hyuuga knelt in front of her only son. "I'm sorry, darling. That maid was so noisy, wasn't she? Well, I got rid of her for you."

Natsume's eyes were emotionless, and trained on the prone body in front of him. The red colour of his eyes matched the colour of the fresh blood gushing out of the young woman's neck. The crimson streaks were starkly bright compared to the maid's dull white collar.

Lady Hyuuga giggled softly. "I'm sorry, Natsume-kun. The mess is rather horrible, isn't it? I'll clean it up right away, I promise."

The Demon did not speak, and averted his gaze to the ceiling. A fresco of naked angels dancing amongst the clouds was splashed on the smooth plaster.

Lady Hyuuga watched her son's stoic face, disappointed once again at his lack of responsiveness. A small sob escaped her throat, and she flung her arms around her son's neck.

Natsume did not flinch at the contact, nor was he concerned for his mother's tears. He was far too used to this; far too used to disappointing those who loved him. That was why his father had left, after all.

The Demon's hands did not move to encircle his mother's trembling body, did not move to soothe her worries.

"Ne, Natsume," Lady Hyuuga mumbled into her son's hair. "Mama loves you, you know that? I will protect you forever. Because Mama loves you. We'll be together forever and ever, ne?"

"Aa," the Demon whispered, barely audible. His mother's arms gripped him tighter, but he did not notice. He could barely feel the suffocating presence, for he had lived in Lady Hyuuga's motherly oppression for as long as he could remember.

He wanted a change of pace, anything, to break the chain of monotony that was his life. He wanted to break free from his mother's embrace.

But he could not, because people – those who led lives outside the manor – feared him.

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The brunette gripped her suitcase nervously, fiddling with a piece of paper as she stood before an impressive set of black, ornate gates. Her large, emerald eyes flicked to the brass numbers above the intercom. 7734.

She glanced to the address hastily scrawled on the piece of paper she held in her hand.

"This is the right place," she mumbled to no one particular.

Taking a deep breath, Mikan Sakura pressed the buzzer, and a woman's voice spoke through the intercom. "May I help you?"

"Ah, y-yes," Mikan answered nervously, her voice rising by a couple of octaves. "I'm Mikan Sakura. I'm here to answer Tokio Hyuuga-san's advertisement for a maid."

"Oh, the small brunette girl?" Lady Hyuuga mused over the intercom. "Yes, do come in. I'll open the gate now."

The automatic gates creaked open and swung forward. The smooth driveway – the clear path leading into the manor was clear.

Stuffing the piece of paper into her skirt pocket, Mikan gripped her suitcase handle even tighter. Her knuckles were white and her hand was beginning to feel numb. Swallowing the lump in her throat, Mikan took the first step into the Hyuuga territory.

She took the first step into her new job, her new life… and into the arms of the Demon.

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Lady Hyuuga seemed to approve of the youthful, green-eyed girl. She knew that Mikan was educated, but did not question her career choice as a mere maid. She hired her immediately, giving the new servant a set of the black and white uniform – remnants of the dead maid's possessions. But of course, Mikan did not know that. Lady Hyuuga wished that they were the same size. It would save her the trouble of having another set made.

She showed Mikan to her new room, a small but comely abode tucked near the kitchen. After putting her suitcase down, Mikan was given a tour of the house. Lady Hyuuga showed her every room, and gave her instructions on how she liked her clothes washed and pressed.

The Hyuuga manor was huge, but apparently, no one other than Lady Hyuuga occupied it. Moreover, considering the manor's ridiculous size, Mikan wondered why there were no other servants about to maintain the place. The brunette was baffled.

It was nightfall when Mikan could finally relax in her new room. Lady Hyuuga instructed her to start work immediately at dawn the next day, and firmly told her that she was to be in bed at ten o'clock sharp every night. She was not to leave her room until the sun rose.

Lady Hyuuga had given her a tour of every room, save one on the second floor, East wing. However, the olive-eyed girl gave no thought to it.

Yawning, Mikan changed into a loose T-shirt and a pair of shorts. She glanced at the vanity mirror and saw how the white shirt was far too big for her petite frame. She clutched the fabric, and inhaled the owner's scent that still lingered. Mikan sighed, recalling memories of a certain someone that were none too fond.

She crawled under the bed covers and set her head down on the pillow. Her long, hazel locks spilled on the sheets like the brown appendages of a starfish.

Lady Hyuuga was a mysterious woman, she noted, feeling sleep tug at her eyelids. Yawning once more, Mikan decided not to peruse the matter and closed her eyes. She was just glad to have a stable job to support herself. Sleep claimed her.

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The Demon was still sitting in his chair, watching wax drip from the candle on the windowsill. The grandfather clock chimed twice.

Natsume sighed, and stood up. Demon or human, he still had a bladder that needed to be emptied. Quietly, he exited the room and made his way down the hall.

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Mikan's pillow was soaked with tears – water bleeding that would not cease. The brunette pulled the thin blanket over her head, and curled into herself. She had had another bad dream about him.

Unable to stifle her hiccupping and sniffling, Mikan decided to make her way out to the gardens. Back home, lying under the sakura tree in her backyard always calmed her down, and she sincerely hoped that there was one in the Hyuuga garden. Ignoring Lady Hyuuga's orders, she wrapped her blanket round her tighter, slipped into her sandals and exited the room.

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After flushing the toilet, Natsume washed his hands. He made to leave, but was distracted by his reflection in the mirror.

His skin was sallow and pale, his cheeks hollow. His eyes were bloodshot, leaving little distinguishable features between the pink of his eyeballs and the red of his irises. Dark circles shadowed his features, morbid-looking against his white porcelain skin.

No wonder people called him a demon.

The Demon cursed, and raised his fist to smash the mirror.

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Mikan drew her knees up to her chest, and embraced her legs. The thin blanket was still draped around her shoulders, though it did little to protect her from the cold of the outside.

Indeed, there was a sakura tree in the Hyuuga yard, but it was no longer in full bloom. The branches were bare, save for a few flowers still hanging on. The chilly wind signaled the end of autumn, and the beginning of winter.

The brunette buried her face into her legs, and waited for the images – images of the one she used to love – in her mind's eye to clear.

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The Demon's right hand was bleeding. The flesh was torn and blood, ripe and rich, flowed out from the wounds. He did not bother looking for bandages to wrap the wound. The glistening red substance pouring from his being fascinated him sordidly.

Natsume made his way slowly back to his room. On his way, he looked out of one of the many windows overlooking the garden. The moon was full that night. However, it was not the shining satellite that caught his eye.

It was a girl.

And she was huddled beneath the bare sakura tree.

Enthralled, the Demon pressed his bleeding palm against the window and stared at her.

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Mikan felt watched.

She looked up, and saw a pair of gleaming red eyes, eager and malicious.

Her heart stopped momentarily. She rubbed her eyes and blinked to make sure she was not dreaming. She looked up again, and the eyes were gone.

However, Mikan could not shake off the feeling that the devil had just caught her.

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The polished oak door shut with a firm snap.

Natsume's mother was asleep on the plush sofa in his room, clutching the family photo album to her chest. She had not stirred, had not noticed that her son had left.

Natsume settled back down into his creaky chair. The Demon remained unperturbed by his bleeding hand. From the bathroom to his room, he had left a trail of blood.

He had left a trail for the girl to follow.

The Demon closed his eyes and smiled. He will wait and watch.

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To be continued…

I admit, this story is the one I had the most fun writing. All comments are much appreciated. If you must criticize, please do so constructively. I believe there is a difference between a meaningful critique, and a senseless flame.