GOD BLESS OUR BEAUTIFUL SIN

A Dolls fanfiction

Prologue

It was the sin of children who had never known hardship. "Evil" was just a word... one that had nothing to do with us. We were defying the world, but we didn't know it. Everything was about to be destroyed for both of us, and yet we laughed softly in the darkness beneath the sheets, unaware that our happiness would shatter completely. It was a single night, neither of us knowing the other by name or position. We would never meet again, and so we freely gave in to our desires.

Passion.

Lust.

Love.

Which of these was our downfall?

- From the diary of Seiju Shikibu

"Seiju, are you ready?"

He looked up and gave his usual smile. "Why are you asking stupid questions, Shou?" The dark-haired man slipped on his gloves and picked up his sword. "Let's go."

Before he could step out the door, the captain placed one arm across the doorway. "Seiju." His eyes flickered dangerously. "Don't run off on your own again."

"I won't." Seiju pushed the arm aside as his partner gave a sigh. He twisted his string around his fingers and grinned. "Let's go string up some bad guys."

"You're impossible."

He laughed, a true laugh. If you want to cry, cry. Get angry if you're angry. And let your smiles be real. That's the only way I'll accept it. The Tokkei's fierce gaze softened slightly as he looked at a recent memory. The kindness of his captain had startled him, and what followed even more so. There had been something familiar about the experience, and it was comforting.

Skin against skin, and hot breath on his cheek. "Relax a little," Shou whispered. "You're making things more painful than they have to be."

"Idiot," Seiju returned through gritted teeth, eyes welling with tears. "I'm emotionally distraught, you know. Now isn't really the time."

And he laughed, placing a light kiss on the younger agent's brow. "Now is the perfect time. I'll show you the difference."

"What differen-ah!" he threw his head back, eyes widening at the ceiling. He reached out, hands twisting in his partner's shirt.

"The difference between your painted smiles, and true bliss."

()()()

He ran a blade through the soft flesh, chuckling at the sensuality. This was truly the best age to live in, when there was so much crime that one or two murders were hardly newsworthy. The body of his latest victim lay in three pieces in front of him: an arm between her legs, and her heart in his free hand. He fondled it, chuckling. It was still warm.

The scent of blood, terror and death. It was a sweet perfume to him. The moistness of the dripping organ he held elated the murderer. He was a psychopath, and he knew it. But who cared? In this world, the only winners were the ones who knew how to live among the dregs of society like a rat. Though, another chuckle, he was probably a rabid rat.

His only misgiving was that he would be convicted at a hearing that he needn't be present at, and then sentenced to death. Such things brought dangerous people into the game.

'Dolls.'

The man shrugged and resumed his gruesome play. He carved his initials into her side and tilted his head slightly to observe the result. After a pause, he set the heart aside and touched her open mouth, painting the woman's lips with her own life-blood. And then he laughed. "It suits you," he told the corpse.