Impure
by Scyllia
The Impure King was a mass of boiling white miasma. Giving off a stench not unlike that of old vomit forgotten in a room for weeks. It bubbled up in thick orbs that burst open and sprayed the trees with its poison, turning them into hissing piles of ash. The sound was kin to laughter, terribly high and grating, as if the user had been swallowing gravel his whole life. Its pale body lurched in a sickening movement and swiveled on the dying grass before the temple.
The creature's overwhelming presence focused on a group of Exwires. They were tender and young, too inexperienced for a battle they knew was approaching. A demon of such high level would spell trouble for even the most elder of the True Cross Knights.
How would they get out of this alive? There was nowhere to run, the miasma had permeated the surrounding air in all directions, creating a wall of impassable disease. There was no way they could fight, their skills wouldn't measure to this demon's. There was simply nothing that could be done.
The Impure King's rotting body slithered towards the children, making sick, wet sounds. It rose up in front of them, hissing and bulging, when a knot of blue flame screamed through the dark sky, blindsiding it. The beast lurched violently, gurgling as it fell.
The source of the flame rushed forward, his blazing sword held at the ready, black hair and long demon tail tufted in blue pyre. He screamed at them as he flew by, begging them to run while they had a chance. His flame had burned a hole through the steaming miasma, creating an escape.
They hesitated. Could they trust him? Rin Okumura, the disgusting child of Satan; was he really trying to save them? Or take them from the Impure King so he could devour them himself?
There was no time to think about that, one of them realized. The hole was closing fast, it's hazy edges trying to come together in a desperate attempt to trap them again. A decision had to be made.
They fled.
They did not look back.
The death of the Impure King was impossible to miss. Its white mass rose skyward in a horribly lurching arc, screaming and writhing as its body evaporated into haze. The miasma drifted beside it in a cloud, dissipating like hot steam.
Its demise was beautiful. The entire form was enveloped in soft blue flame, licking and burning the creature's sinful existence. The flames had died out now, as there were no remains of the Impure King left to burn. No fuel for the blaze.
The Exwires had escaped, but not gone far, and they too, witnessed the death scene.
They exchanged glances. Unspoken thoughts were passing between them, each one expressed simply in the others' eyes. No words needed to be said. It was obvious from their faces, they knew what needed to be done. The Son of Satan had fought truly to protect them. He had saved them from the white demon and used his infamous blue flames to help them.
But reality was pricking at the back of their minds.
They had to go back.
The ground in front of the temple resembled a post-war plain. The ground was wet and churned in places, while tiny blue flames licked at what little grass had remained at the edges of the clearing. The miasma had burned a dark ring in the earth, a sickening reminder of what had happened here.
The Exwires looked around warily, they had no idea what to expect. But what they saw put their worst fears to the forefront of their minds.
Rin was lying in a heap at the foot of the temple steps, he looked as if he had been tossed carelessly aside, and the group pushed the irony of that statement out of their thoughts. They approached him cautiously, fear and apprehension still reigning. He was nearly still, but the shaky rise and fall of his sides told them he was still alive. The group allowed themselves a collective sigh of relief. Till they examined him further.
His stomach was a bloody mess, torn open by the Impure King and spattering crimson within a radius that could be measured in yards. Red organs pulsed sickeningly inside him, a thin shine on their smooth surfaces, courtesy of the moon's dim glow. They wretched at the sight, their own stomachs heaving inside them.
Rin's head was tilted at an unnatural angle against the step, allowing the blood dribbling from his mouth find a path down his pale neck.
His legs were twisted in all the wrong ways. . .
The boy took in a loud, shuddering gasp, startling the group gathered around him. The lids of his deep blue eyes rose and he gazed at them from beneath dark lashes. They were glazed with unimaginable pain.
His bloodied lips tried to form words, but they only produced more thick, crimson liquid. His head slipped from its odd position on the step and hit the ground, sending a jolt down his body. Rin let out a piercing wail, laced with raw agony and exhaustion. Blue eyes slammed shut as his blood-slicked form spasmed with the savage onslaught of pain.
The Exwires flinched, now more afraid than ever. The severity of the situation washed over them like a cold wave of dread. They were alone, deep in the forests of Kyoto with no hospital for miles. It was hopeless. They were hopeless. They had failed the one person who'd fought the hardest to protect them.
One of the girls pointed with a shocked gasp, her pale finger trembling as it was aimed at Rin. The others snapped out of their stupor to look at the boy's bloody abdomen.
His wound was stitching itself shut.
It was horribly disgusting, yet unrivalled in beauty to watch. Skin reached forward in thin tendrils over the opening and met at the center, sinking and weaving together. The hole was effectively plugged in moments, the flesh looking as if it had never seen a scar in its life.
All manner of eyes were focused on Rin as he heaved himself up into a drunken sitting position. His dark head hung forward, swinging to the side before he lifted it and placed his cheek against the cool stone of the temple's column. He shook with loud, ragged breaths, body betraying the look in his eyes.
Rin's deep blue gaze was fixed on them, every kind of identifiable emotion swirling inside them. Pain, confusion, sadness...
Betrayal.
These people surrounding him... Not even a week ago, they had pronounced him their closest friend. They had traveled side by side and depended on one another. He had fought his hardest for them, revealing his heritage as Satan's son and the ferocity of his blue flames.
And they rejected him. All he wanted was for them to be safe, to live despite impossible odds. He cared about them. But they cast him aside like a toy done being used, they acted as if he didn't exist. Or worse, thought him a monster. A wild beast who wished to maim and devour them.
He was so lonely.
But trained hard for such a moment as this, when he would be able to use those blue flames in an act of kindness and protect those closest to him.
And look what he had sacrificed for them! Defeating the Impure King alone and being beaten near to death, suffering unimaginable pain as his stomach was torn open and his legs broken beyond feeling. He was sure he'd never be able to use them again...
And what did they do?
Nothing. They sat and stared at him as he bled out on the swampy ground. They said nothing to him, holding their silence even when he forced through the exhaustion to sit up and look at them. Watching him scream as his body was racked with agony...
They abandoned him.
Who's the demon now?
A/N~ I originally planned on this story being only a oneshot, but I've received a lot of reviews asking me to continue and/or talking as if it was an ongoing thing. So far, I've got nothing more planned for it. But because of these reviews I'm thinking of expanding on this. I just need the inspiration and an idea of where I want to go with it. But until then, I guess you could say the story is on Haitus. If anyone has any suggestions feel free to message me, it could be just the inspiration I need.
Update as of: September 6, 2011