Title: Asters
Chapter: 1/?
Fandom: Blue Exorcist
Pairings: N/A, gen.
Summary: In which Rin doesn't escape that Gehenna Gate.
Welcome, all, to the Trauma Zone. Rin has a bad time, but his trials are only beginning.
Honestly, I hadn't meant to post this until the fic was totally completed, but I jumped the gun and got excited, so here we are.
Warnings for: Implied torture (off-screen), aftermath of torture, physical violence, cremation with malicious intent, kidnapping, abuse, all the standard stuff for a "Rin gets dragged to hell but Satan is still a malicious dick" fic. Also, Shiro dies (spoilers for... chapter 1 ig!). I would like to point out that while this fic is angsty, it's not "edgy dark": Rin doesn't suffer just for the "fun" of it.
His cheeks still stung.
He was used to pain, used to broken skin and bloody lips, but something about Shiro being the cause of it - causing him pain beyond rough noogies - seemed to solidify the burn of betrayal that pierced something deep inside of him, something hidden and fragile. There was a sword being shoved into his hands, the monks screaming and throwing salt and flipping open their bibles, Shiro was tugging him up and along, but Rin could barely process anything other than the wetness collecting in his eyes and the sword; like hot iron on his skin, branding him as a demon.
And then- and then his word is swallowed by blue fire and mocking laughter.
The monks are on the floor, limp and defeated, utterly helpless in the face of Satan himself.
Satan, who's currently possessing Shiro, and apparently Rin's biological father.
His entire life is a damned lie. Everything he is, everything he's ever known - ever been told - was a lie. And now, now that the truth came back to terrorize them all, he can only watch as the lie he's been living, paper-thin and doomed to fall apart, buckles and tears under blue fire and demonic might.
In gushing, damning grief, Rin watches his lonely and directionless, but ultimately peaceful, existence burn away to nothing.
The final pillar falls, and Rin, pushed into a portal that clung and screamed and begged- could do no more than catch the dying pieces, his tears now fully formed. Horrified and shocked, and fervently wishing it was all a dream.
His legs are caught in the gate. Rin yanks his legs up in an effort to free himself, but he only sinks deeper, like an explorer caught in quicksand - the ones he used to see in old cartoons. The Kurikara, the sword that his demon powers are sealed into - he's a demon! He's a demon they were right - was tossed away from him, lying on the floor across the room, cold and useless.
There are blue flames, not the ones who hurt him and his family - though they might as well be - flickering and sputtering around him, trying to weasel their way into existence and falling short, but only just.
Rin screams and screams and screams as he clutches at Shiro, his clammy fingers coated in the blood of his dad - He's so sorry, please, no - but he can't hear his own broken voice over the sound of crackling fire and ringing laughter. His fingers skitter over the edges of the gate, sunk into it up to his chest, but he just sinks deeper and deeper into the portal.
Rin writhes as he cries, shaking head back and forth, even though there's no hope of getting free. Only the tip of his head and his forearm can be seen from outside of the gate, and Rin's drowning, biting his lips with sharpened teeth so hard he punctures them, holding the last of his oxygen in for as long as possible. He presses his eyes shut, and wishes for the end to come quickly, instead of torturing him like this.
There's a yanking sensation and then the substance releases Rin from its killing grip, the air knocked from his lungs as he topples onto hard stone. He wheezes, his eyes still pressed firmly shut.
Satan's voice rings out, reverberating and sounding of destruction and bright blue fire, but the voice is somehow… more real, less like a demonic spirit and more a physical entity. The thought makes Rin flinch slightly. "Restrain him. He's just gotten here; we can't have him running away now, can we?"
Rin's eyes fly open, and rough hands are on him, pulling and twisting and it's all he can do to struggle in their grip. He's pulled up onto his knees, and his arms ache from where they've been twisted behind his back, claws sinking into the soft flesh of Rin's arms.
Rin snarls up at Satan, who stares down at him with a facsimile of a real expression. His eyes say nothing, and looking into them only garners an impression of anger and yawning emptiness. But, instead of hitting or reprimanding, Satan laughs. Satan, from the moment Rin had encountered him, had laughed and laughed and laughed at Rin, at his pain, his fear, his tears. Like- like it was a fucking joke.
"Bastard!" Rin spits, lunging for the demon king, only to be yanked back, his arms starting to bleed as clawed fingers puncture his skin. His struggle starts anew, the servants restraining Rin from attempting to maul Satan. Rin spits and snarls and curses him, thrashing about wildly. He can barely see past his own anger, vision shaking as a visceral rage pumps through his veins, causing his lips to curl and bare sharpened incisors.
Rin's angered, defiant expression becomes one of horror as Satan snaps a finger, another servant appearing out of nowhere to steal Shiro's quickly cooling body from Rin. Rin's face pales, the blood draining from his face.
"Hey- What're yo- No! Don't touch him!" Rin screeches, the sound panicked and raw. Satan just chuckles, and Rin is writhing, trying to wriggle out of the Iron grip holding him hostage, but can do no more as Shiro - his Dad! - is dragged further and further away from him.
Satan turns his back on Rin, leisurely beginning to walk down the winding dirt path. Rin is dragged along after him, rocks and pebbles biting at his exposed skin and attempting to tear the fabric of his clothing. Rin strains and grunts and tries to wiggle his way out, but each attempt is met with swift violence, a fist slamming into Rin's cheek or a pointed kick to the ribs. Rin can't help but whimper, body limp as he deals with the new and sharp aches decorating his body and leaving him fraught with pain.
Satan doesn't turn back to look at Rin, not even once.
Being a prisoner on display, one whose defeat was to be broadcast as he was dragged through the castle, was one of the most humiliating experiences Rin had ever been through. Shame and a keen sense of vulnerability struck him as he was forced down winding hallways, past the deadened eyes of the castles' servants, their indifferent, sometimes vaguely contemptful gazes like a laser burning into his skin. The front of the castle, leading to the throne room, was draped in vivid reds and vibrant blues, depicting wealth, rage, and the signature blue flames Satan possessed. The further in Rin went, however, the less decorum there was, transferring from bright rugs to cold stone floors.
There were more demons in this area, too. They came in a wide variety of shapes and sizes, but there was a startling difference between them. They seemed to come in two groups. One group, smaller in number it seemed, passed by Rin and the guards with bloodied weapons of all kinds. The other group, however, tended to be emaciated and bloodied. The group with weapons took hulking, single-minded steps, while the group without walked as quietly as they could possibly achieve, steps light, sometimes uncoordinated. The group without wouldn't look anywhere other than the ground, and their faces only demonstrated a withdrawn, blank visage - as if the soul had been sucked out of them.
Finally, Rin is lead in front of a steel door. The door is wide and rusted, solid but worn in. It appeared more like an item out of one of those post-apocalyptic games Rin saw in stores, for consoles he couldn't afford, than the entrance to a real place.
(He'd always hoped that he could buy one for him and Yukio, but he could never keep a job long enough to scrounge up the money needed for one.)
The door was the farthest thing from ornate: simple in design and functionality, undecorated even with the rust coating it. There was a small rectangle cut from the bottom of the door, looking to be nearly a foot in length but only a couple inches in height. It wasn't big enough for Rin, himself, to squeeze through - not even close - but he could probably fit his hands through it if he tried hard enough. What his eyes were really glued on, however, were the thick streaks of curdled brown and murky red soaked into the stone in front of the door, as if there had been so much blood pooled on the inside of the door that it had leaked out, coating dirty stone in old blood.
Rin couldn't suppress the shudder that ran through him at the sight - he didn't even want to think about where all that blood had come from.
The door opens with a heavy creak, but before Rin can gather his bearings, he's hauled up by his forearms and tossed inside the room. Rin yelps as he tumbles onto the filthy stone floor of the cell in a tangle of limbs, scrambling to his feet just as the heavy door is shut in his face. It makes Rin's lip curl, and the teen growls, rushing at the door and pounding on it, demanding to be let out, strings of expletives uttered only to stone cold silence. It only makes Rin yell louder, harder, until his voice gave out under the strain of his rage and grief, his voice that spoke of fear and desperation in rising notes and jerky pauses in speech.
The silence is what gets him, what extinguishes Rin's anger and makes his flickering flames wink out. Rin's face feels hot, contorting, tightening in his budding despair. He steps off and away from the door as if it'd burned him, backing himself into a corner and sliding down onto the bloodied floor, uncaring of the dirt and grime.
The blood was everywhere, and somehow, Rin knew that his blood would be joining the splatters of tortured red and dark browns soon.
Rin just- he just wants to go home. He wants Shiro back, alive and laughing heartily, to be back at their shared dinner table at the monastery with the monks; with a chiding Yukio, remorseful at having such a problem child for a twin brother but digging into the food Rin made anyway.
Yukio.
He hadn't thought about Yukio until now. Rin wonders, a sense of terror pushing at his throat and nearly making him gag, whether anything of the monastery was left after the fire. He doubts it, but he was too taken up with being sucked into a hell portal to care about the state of the house.
'What about Yukio?' his mind chants, the thought jabbing toxic fingers into his skull, between his spine, plucking at the tendons in his ankles - caught on a conjured image of Yukio's horrified face, of Yukio, bright and talented, face awash with grief and looking down at not one, but two tombstones. One for their dad and… one for Rin.
Rin brings his knees to his chest, wrapping his arms around them. He tucks his head into the space between his arms and his knees and tries not to be loud as tears drip from his eyes, hot and heavy.
There are ashes in the air, fluttering and dancing along invisible currents.
Satan stands, watching as the remains of the paladin crumble under the strength of his flames. Bones, usually strong enough to withstand cremation, dissolve like paper, skin and strands of white hair withered and charred, becoming smelly ash in seconds.
Satan simply stared into the fire, satisfied with what has occurred thus far. The paladin was dead and Rin was in his grasp. There were… a few setbacks, such as Rin remaining partially unawakened, and their inability to snatch up the Kurikara before time was up. The boy had refused to obey Satan's commands, merely clutching the thing uselessly until it was discarded. He showed a particularly fiery defiance of him, though that was not entirely unexpected. Either way, Satan would curb his rebellious tendencies.
He has no need for such a thing.
The demon king sighs, rolling his shoulders in a sort of "what can you do?" motion, before signaling to one of his servants to go collect the ash and dispose of it.
"I don't care what you do with it, but do not dump the ashes here." He orders, the servant nodding furiously before scampering off to do his bidding. Then, Satan snapped his fingers, commanding another servant to retrieve one of the torturers.
The demon that's lead into the room is like any of the other torturers, hulking, dumb, and blood-thirsty. It was all they'd needed to be, and their positions suited both Satan and themselves just fine. They thrived on causing pain and bloodshed, after all, demons of fire and wrath, caring not for who allowed them to inflict pain - so long as they did.
Other than a cursory glance, Satan didn't look at the demon. Instead, he curtly gave his orders, looking bemusedly into his swirling goblet. "In the back chambers, there's a half-demon. Break him. I don't care how you do it, as long as none of the physical injuries are permanent."
Satan figures that a nice stay in the chambers will make the boy nice and malleable. He didn't need a mentally healthy vessel, per se, only a physically healthy one.
It's not as if he'd need the mind at all.
Whether he was alone in the cell for an hour or a day, Rin wasn't sure, only that the quiet grated on his ears and evoked a sense of paranoia, every squeak of his worn sneakers causing him to startle violently. His crying had quieted down a while before, leaving Rin feeling drained and empty.
The door, which had previously seemed like it'd never open again, was hauled open by one of the bigger demons Rin had seen earlier. Rin jolted, shoulders tensing, but instead of lashing out, he only curled tighter in on himself.
Instead, Rin only bared his teeth, rage pouring forth through his tongue, not his fists. He didn't have enough energy for that, exhausted in the wake of his capture. "Bastards!" Rin curses, "What'd you do with my old man?! Give him back and let me go - you better not've hurt him or I'll beat the hell outta ya!"
The hulking demon only steps further into the chamber, looking down at him with blank eyes, ones that looked at Rin and told him whether he lived or died did not matter, that he was nothing and never would be. The voice of the thing reflected this, voice level and monotone as the demon pronounced his threat. "Your defiance must be curbed. Under the orders of Satan, he who is of greatest Sin, we must make it so. Are you done resisting?"
"Fuck no, you and that bastard can go to hell!" Rin howls, his hackles rising as he gnashes his teeth.
The demon grunts, gripping the chain whip in both of its hands. "So be it."
And so begins a long, arduous journey…!
I'm finally beginning to implement those revisions I was talking about, starting with Asters and my old one-shots. This is the revised version of chapter one (Feb 2019).
Anyway, thank you for reading, I hope the rest finds you well.
