~ All standard disclaimers apply
~ Warning: Bad language. Blood and dismembered body parts
ahead! Death fic! A bit of OOC-ness and Relena-bashing in future chapters.
~ Note: This part is only a legend that will be important
later in the fic. All reviews appreciated, flames are new inspiration. Remember
the warning and REVIEW!
~ Demons are everywhere- even in me~
~ Demon Blood: Shinigami's legend ~
A tall, gruff man stood in his doorway, glaring down at the
small boy standing on the step. He frowned, scratching his bloated stomach. The
boy simply stared up at the man, waiting patiently for the answer to his
question.
"No. He was naughty, so he needs to be punished. He's
not coming out. Ever." The man retreated back into the shadowy interior of
the shabby house, slamming the door in the young boy's face.
Undaunted, the boy ran around the side of the house. He
stood in tiptoe, stretching to peer in through the grimy window. Pressing his
palms to the side of the house for support, the boy made a face at the feeling
of peeling paint under his hands, no different from his own home. He squinted,
trying to see the people in the room.
A young boy near to his own age stood in the middle of the
room, glaring defiantly at the man approaching him. Long brown bangs covered
one of the boy's eyes, the visible one flashing a dangerous green. The man's
face was contorted in rage, his steps heavy enough to shake the floorboards. He
raised a fist, mouth forming words heard clearly through the thin walls.
"Why you little… I thought I told you to clean this
place! Good-for-nothing little brat!"
With that, the man slammed down his fist, letting the
knuckles connect with the young boy's cheek. The force of the blow sent the boy
to the ground. He struggled to stand, but the man didn't want that. He stomped
over to the fallen boy, kicking him in the side.
The boy was sent to the ground again, but he didn't stay
down long. He rose to his knees, then to his feet. Still glaring at the man,
the boy held his ground, chin raised proudly.
This only infuriated the man further. He reached down,
grabbing the collar of the boy's thin shirt. He lifted the boy into the air
until they were face to face. The boy's bare feet dangled a good two feet above
the ground. Staring into the man's dark eyes, the young boy's own green eyes
widened just a fraction in surprise and a tiny amount of fear.
Taking a step, the man hurled the child across the room. He
watched as the boy slammed into the opposite wall, head banging painfully
against the dirty barrier, a shower of plaster falling to land on the body.
Outside, the young witness to these horrible events shuddered, imagining his
friend's pain.
Stalking to the crumpled form of the boy, the man yelled at
him, kicking viciously. "Get up you worthless piece of crap! You ain't
gonna get off easy this time!" He forced the boy to his feet with a swift
yank. Not letting go of the small arm, the man punched the boy full out in the
face.
Blood dripped from the boy's nose, the appendage at such a
strange angle it must have been broken. A hard punch to the stomach caused the
boy to cough up blood, staining his ragged shirt and the floor. A small amount
of blood landed on the man's hand, still clenching the thin arm. Bringing up
his free hand, the boy wiped at the blood on his face, but only succeeded in
smearing it around. Opening his mouth, the boy spoke for the first time.
"Shut up. I didn't do nothin'."
"That's exactly what I mean!" The man punctuated
every word with a punch or a kick to the boy's body. "Ya never do nothin'
'roun' 'ere!"
The child outside watched in horrified silence as his only
friend was beaten. There was nothing he could do. If he went in there, the man
would only beat him, too. That would do nothing to help his friend. So the boy
watched in silence as his friend bled.
A powerful kick to a tender region on the boy's body sent
him once more to the floor. This time he did not get up. The man pounced on
him, pummeling the small body with his fists. And yet, the boy still did not
whimper, did not make a sound.
Another punch to the cheek whipped the boy's head to the
side. Through the dirty windowpane the two boys' eyes met. One pair were wide
with fear for the other, the other eyes clouded with pain and, oddly, immense
sadness. The boy outside stared in confusion at his friend's sadness.
Oblivious to the looks exchanged by the two boys, the man
continued to hit his silent victim. Finally, he lurched to his feet, towering
above the still form of the boy. He kicked the boy, flipping him onto his
stomach. Irritated at the silent child, the man ground the heel of his worn
boot into the boy's spine, finally eliciting a whimper of pain from the boy.
Seeming to enjoy the acknowledgement of pain, the sadistic
bastard kept going. Pushing harder with his boot, the man sneered at the
whimpering. The boy was consumed by a fit of violent coughing, blood exiting
from his lips. Grinding his heel even harder into the small back, the man
stopped the coughing with a terrible cracking sound.
The boy gasped, eyes wide and filled with pain. Gazing
disgustedly at the limp form on the wooden floor, the man removed his boot. He
stalked to the door, flung it open and stomped out. The young boy outside
pressed himself against the crumbling side of the building, hoping not to be
seen. As soon as the man was out of sight the boy ran to the door.
He rushed in and knelt by his friend's side. The green eyed
boy grinned slightly at the sight of the other child. Unfortunately, the act
brought on another fit of coughing, leaving the boy weaker than before. Green
eyes looked upon those of his friend sadly, then closed.
The other boy became alarmed at his friend's lack of
movement. Gently placing a small hand on his friend's shoulder, he softly shook
it. No response. Eyes widening, the boy shook a little harder. Still his friend
didn't move. Lowering his head he placed it near his friend's mouth. No air
passed between the still lips.
"Wake up," the boy whispered. "He's gone
now. It's OK to get up. C'mon, get up. Please? Ya gotta wake up now…"
He trailed off, staring at his friend's unmoving face.
Closing his eyes, he buried his head in his arms. He was still for a moment,
unmoving as his friend.
Suddenly the door banged open, slamming into the wall with
so much force it almost fell off its hinges. In the doorway stood the man,
glowering at the two boys. Snapping up his head, the young boy stared at the
man barreling toward him with dry eyes.
He jumped to his feet, darted one last glance at the body
of his friend, ran out the door. The man right behind him, he ran past battered
buildings. He ran, expecting to feel the meaty hand closing around the back of
his shirt at any moment.
Glancing back once, the boy saw the man lagging behind. He
faced front again, smirking slightly. The man wasn't in great shape. He could
get away without harm. Ducking into a side alley, the boy ran to the back. A
tiny hole in the wall, barely big enough for him, seemed to appear out of the
darkness of the alley. The boy crawled in, hoping desperately that the other
side wouldn't be blocked.
He was in luck. Only a dirty rag covered the opening. He
pushed it aside, blinking in the light pouring from a hole in the ceiling. He
looked around the tiny room, and almost groaned when he saw a shadowed form in
the corner. It was a tall woman, her stringy black hair hanging in clumps.
"Come here boy."
The boy warily made his way across the room and stood in
from of the woman. She gazed down on him, contempt clearly visible in her small
brown eyes. He looked so much like that damned father of his, with his messy
brown hair and piercing blue eyes. He even acted like the cursed man, sullen
and withdrawn, never speaking.
"Where were you." It was a demand, not a
question.
"Nanashi died. Ano onore killed him."
"I'll let you off easy this time." The boy could
not help remembering the last time he heard words similar to those. "I'm
going to tell you a legend my grandma told me. You'll like it. No, don't look
at me like that. Every word is true. Gods did- do- exist. And if you meet with
Shinigami under the right circumstances, he will give you your heart's
desire."
The young boy's eyes widened slightly. Seeing this, the
woman smiled slightly. She knew that the boy before her would become intrigued
by those words. And that was exactly what she wanted.
"Listen closely. Within this legend are the
circumstances you need to gain whatever you want from Shinigami, so pay
attention. Once, thousands of millennia ago…"
~~~
Thousands of millennia ago, humans and gods existed
together in the same realm, the realm of Earth. However, things were not
peaceful, far from it. The gods looked down on the humans, and used their
powers to torment the other beings. The humans, lacking the power the gods
possessed, devised various tricks and schemes designed to hinder the gods in
their everyday lives. Unfortunately, for the humans, gods' tempers wear thin
rapidly, and when they're angered, their wrath is a terrible thing to witness,
let alone be put under.
Every so often a group of humans would push a god past
their limits. Then, the carnage would be great. Any humans in the general area
were killed, homes destroyed, the land charred. No one was left to bury the
numerous dead. The stench of the long dead flesh offended even the gods, and to
decrease this smell the gods had taken to burning the site of the massacre. The
smell of burning flesh dissipated much faster then the smell of rotting flesh.
There was perhaps one god who thoroughly enjoyed these mass
killings: Shinigami, the god of death. Often he would kill just to be killing,
not in a mindless rage. There was no logic to his killings. With the other
gods, humans knew that if they pushed them too far they would be killed, but
with Shinigami…
He had many techniques, but his favorite was by far
freezing his victims in pure fear. He would corner a group of humans in a dark
place. Standing with all eyes fixed on him, his own eyes gleaming demonically,
Shinigami would grab one of them and proceed to do unimaginable things to his
victim. The others would be unable to move, frozen by their own terror.
Shinigami would kill them all, subjecting the unlucky ones to watching their
friends die a most horrible death. None were ever spared.
Once every 100 years or so, a child would be born with the
most unusual eyes. The child would have violet eyes. The poor, unfortunate
child would immediately be thrown out once it could care for itself, the mother
killed. Why, you ask? The child had Shinigami's eyes.
Ethnicity, nationality, it didn't matter. The mother had
obviously been visited by Shinigami, and impregnated by him. After all, what
true human had violet eyes? The child would have been killed too, but for the
people's fear that Shinigami would kill them to "avenge his child's
death". So the people simply threw the child out, refused to associate
with it. These children were never named, only referred to as "the
traitors".
They were damned from the moment that they were conceived.
Upon seeing these traitors, Shinigami would fly into a rage, sure to be
especially terrible if the child had long hair. You see Shinigami was extremely
vain, as well as illogical. He prided himself on his violet eyes and long
chestnut hair. He immediately hated anyone who shared those features with him,
prolonging the death and using special techniques reserved for those few.
Humans avoided Shinigami as much as they could, and
continued to annoy the other gods. However, although the gods had tolerated
these tricks for uncountable centuries, now they began to tire of them. The
human schemes didn't harm the gods, who could heal any injuries to themselves
with their powers, given enough time. The gods simply became weary of these
tricks and the people who devised them. They gathered together to decide what
they should do about the troublesome humans.
"Kill them all, I say." Muttered a Chinese god.
"And just how do you propose we do that?" A
stern-faced goddess glared, tight lipped, at her companion. "I don't now
about you, but all that mass carnage gives me a headache."
"Funny," began another goddess, her dark bangs
falling over her eye. "I hadn't thought you to be so weak, Meiran."
The goddess called Meiran shifted her glare to the other
goddess. "I meant the smell of all those decaying corpses gives me a
headache."
"Why don't we leave it up to Shinigami?"
suggested a god as he tossed some of his long, white-blond hair over his
shoulder. "He has his ways, so I've heard, of killing humans without that
nasty stench."
"Where is that fool, anyway?"
"Don't you remember, husband, that it was you yourself
who forbid him to join any of our meetings?" Meiran gently reprimanded the
Chinese god.
"Stop! Don't you realize what you're saying?" A
god jumped up, blue eyes wide, short blond hair swinging. "Don't you
realize what you're contemplating?" He looked around the room, but say
only bored expressions on the faces of his fellow gods.
"Quatre, calm down. They're only humans, nuisances. We
don't-"
"Noin! Don't you understand? Wufei?" Quatre
looked at the Chinese god, received only a disinterested gaze.
"Zechs!" The longhaired god had completely ignored the conversation
and began to brush his hair.
"Perhaps Wufei should have banned Quatre, as well as
Shinigami." An elegant god gestured with his wineglass.
"Treize!" Quatre calmed himself. "All right.
If none of you will see reason and abandon these foolish plans, I'll leave.
I'll not be responsible for the deaths of any humans." With that, the
young god turned and walked out the open door.
"Should I…" Noin half rose from her seat.
"No. Leave him." Treize gently shook his head.
"Who'll fetch Shinigami? Noin? Zechs?"
Meiran sighed. "I'll go. Should I bring him back
here?"
"No. Just tell him we want the humans gone. He'll be
too anxious to start to want to come here."
Meiran nodded, then left the room. The journey to
Shinigami's layer would have killed a human, literally. Shinigami guarded the
way to his home with treacherous obstacles, not for protection, but because he
enjoyed getting past them. The traps changed periodically, and not even
Shinigami himself knew what the danger would be.
Unwilling to waste time passing though Shinigami's obstacle
course, Meiran transported herself inside. The interior of the place was dark,
severely limiting visibility. Before she could conjure up a light, there was a
flash of silver and a sharp pressure against her throat.
"Shinigami. There's a job for you."
A dry chuckle, and the pressure at Meiran's throat was
removed. Light flashed into existence, illuminating the hall. Meiran turned
around, coming face-to-face with Shinigami. He leaned against the wall, casually
polishing a silver dagger.
"So? Must have something to do with mass killing, or
you'd never be here." Shinigami smirked at Meiran's vaguely surprised
glance. "Who is it, and when do you want them gone?"
"The entire human race. Every one of them. ASAP."
Darkness engulfed the hall once more as Shinigami's
laughter faded into silence.
~~~
"Run! It's –ack!"
A pale hand reached out and wrapped itself around the man's
throat. He choked, clutched desperately at the hand around his neck. Another
hand snaked out of the shadows and joined the first around the man's neck. Pale
blue eyes bulged, wide mouth gaped. Blood spattered against the opposite wall
as the man's neck was crushed beneath powerful fingers.
~~~
The terrified scream of a child left behind, silenced swiftly.
One lone figure stood among the remains of the village, long hair whipping in
the wind. Shinigami. Numerous corpses littered the ground, mangled beyond
recognition. He tossed the body of a small child aside, watching it land in the
large pool of human blood. Shinigami walked away from the totaled village,
licking the child's blood from his fingers.
~~~
A young woman cowered in the corner of the dark room. All
about her were the carcasses of her friends, their spilt blood mingling
together on the floor. She had seen them all killed, murdered. The culprit
stood before her, face shadowed. His hands dripped with the blood of her
friends, softly splashing into the pool of blood on the floor.
"Don't bother screaming. No one can hear you."
The woman became more terrified, her body shaking. When the
dark figure stepped toward her she opened her mouth and screamed. The man shook
his head and reached for the woman. She froze, limbs arrested by terror,
although vocal cords continued to work.
He placed one hand at the base of her neck, pressing the
woman against the wall. The other hand reached up, fingers gently trailing
along her throat. Suddenly the white fingers pushed hard against her soft skin.
She screamed in pain as the long fingers pierced her skin, brushed against
tender nerves.
The high scream of terror ended abruptly as the woman's
vocal cords were torn out, the slimy mass tossed across the room. The fresh
corpse slumped to the floor, blank eyes staring at nothing. Shinigami licked
her blood from his fingers as he left the scene.
~~~
Shinigami walked across the bloodstained earth, violet eyes
searching out any humans who had attempted to escape their fate. Hearing a
whimper, he turned, glancing into a wide alley. Seeing movement, he smiled and
walked in, striding to the human hiding in the corner.
Suddenly the human jumped up, brandishing a knife.
Shinigami only chuckled. The man was shaking so much he could hardly hold the
knife, his eyes wide, pupils dilated. He shouted and lunged at the god, knife
aimed for Shinigami's chest. Shinigami easily dodged the attack, and brought
his fist down on the man's back. The human crumpled to the ground, groaning.
Shinigami bent over the fallen man, preparing to wrench his head from his
shoulders.
Gripping the man's head in one hand, Shinigami placed the
other hand on his victim's neck. He lowered his head, placing his mouth a few
inches above the human's ear. The man visibly shivered as he felt Shinigami's
breath on his flesh.
"I'd like to tear your limbs off one by one, but there
isn't time." Shinigami whispered. "You have friends, I'll bet, who
are still alive. They're here now, aren't they? Waiting in ambush? Heh, don't
worry. They'll join you soon in death."
With that, Shinigami ripped the man's head off. He rose, tossing
the decapitated head aside. He licked at the blood coating his fingers and
frowned. Raising his hand, Shinigami sniffed at the blood, his frown deepening.
Something was wrong…
Preoccupied with the blood dripping off his hands,
Shinigami failed to notice the humans approaching him. They attacked form the
back, brandishing knives. The first human to reach Shinigami managed to swipe
his blade across the god's back, cutting through fabric and skin to pierce a
vein. A faint burning sensation accompanied the blade. Shinigami snarled,
whether in pain, anger, or both, no one could say.
The god leaped at his attacker, knocking the human to the
ground. The man's skull met with the ground, cracking with the force. The other
humans in the alley faltered as they saw the bloody mess on the ground, the
bodies of the other men. Some fled right then, others were too scared to move.
Very few continued the attack.
Shinigami continued to slay the humans, lip curled in a
snarl. However, not even a minute after ripping the head from the first human,
Shinigami slowed in his killing. There were still humans left, live ones.
Shinigami staggered, eyes widening in realization. His gaze flicked over the
body of the decapitated man, the fresh corpse with its brains splattered on the
ground, his own hands covered in blood.
"Ki-kisama! …Nande …kuso…"
A door opened and more humans entered the alley, each
carrying a silver knife. One of them produced a large bag and a length of rope.
Shinigami growled and lunged toward the approaching humans, but a wave of
dizziness forced him to his knees. The humans hesitantly crept closer to the
fallen god, ready to bolt at the first move he made. One man came within
Shinigami's range and suffered a broken leg.
The sudden movement required to break the man's leg proved
to be too much for the god. He doubled over and vomited. Seeing this, the
humans grinned. They walked closer, feeling more confident.
Without warning, Shinigami raised his head, locking gazes
with the human holding the bag. The man froze, gasped, dropped the bag. The
other humans watched helplessly as their companion clutched at his neck. He
choked, coughing up blood. Dropping to the ground, the man convulsed, lay
still. Through out all this he had not lost eye contact with Shinigami.
The other humans became more scared, many backing out of
the alley, avoiding the god's eyes. One brave soul, or perhaps he was simply
foolish, attempted to sneak up behind Shinigami. Undoubtedly, Shinigami was
well aware of the human at his back, though he did nothing to stop the man.
With a loud cry, the human brought his knife down into Shinigami's lower back.
A slight sizzling sound was audible as the blade cut into his skin. The god
made a small sound of pain. This small sound seemed to reassure the humans of
their success, making them more confidant.
"We don't want to kill him, at least not yet."
"Yeah, just knock him out or something and take him
back to the hideout."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Bring the bag."
The humans circled around Shinigami, but kept well out of
his reach. None were eager to attain a broken leg. One man, who appeared to be
the leader, finally grew impatient with his comrades' reluctance to strike the
god. He pulled back his fist and smashed it into Shinigami's skull as hard as
he could. Shinigami slumped forward, unconscious.
"Man, he don't look big enough to demolish an entire
village. He's shorter 'n me!"
The men who had begun to inch away when Shinigami killed
the man with his eyes came back. They eagerly helped to tie the god, hoping to
make up for their earlier cowardice. Rope was placed around Shinigami's wrists,
ankles, knees, and secured his arms to his body at his elbows. The bag was
placed over the god's head, another length of rope securing the opening around
his neck. Once Shinigami was securely tied, the humans carefully transported
the body into one of the buildings.
~~~
When Shinigami awoke, all was dark. He was upright, sitting
in a chair. Shifting a bit, he found that he was tied with a poking kind of
rope, one whose tines stuck in his skin and burned faintly. Shinigami wrinkled
his nose at the feeling, and discovered that he was blindfolded. Remembering
what had happened, he cursed out loud.
Noting that their captive was finally awake, the humans
moved to surround him. They knew what they were going to do to him, and had
prepared while the god was still unconscious. Wanting to cut out his eyes, but
not wanting to gall prey to the power in them had been a troubling problem.
After much thought, they found the solution. Using the blindfold to protect
against the power in Shinigami's eyes, they drew marks where the god's eyes
were.
Now the humans approached Shinigami, all brandishing their
silver knives. He heard their approach, and growled low in his throat in
response. A few of the humans grew hesitant, but the majority continued their
approach, sure that the god was securely restrained. One man, the leader,
stepped forward. Shinigami heard the man's advance.
"Onore! You friggin' poisoned him, didn't you! You put
poison in that human's bloodstream and made sure I did shit to him! That
couldn't have been it. Those damn knives burned when you cut me. You fuckin'
put poison on them too! And this freakin' binding! Kisama- crap, lemme loose!
Take off this damn blindfold! Un-mmpf!" Shinigami was cut off as the
leader shoved a scrap of cloth into the god's mouth.
The leader didn't respond, but Shinigami noted that he
hadn't denied it either. He smirked around the gag. He'd been right. He had
been poisoned. It was the first time, and he found out the hard way that it was
not something he enjoyed.
The god stiffened as something hard and sharp was pressed
against his eyelid through the blindfold. He felt a moment's fear. Shinigami
clearly understood what they were going to do, and why. The power in his eyes
was too much of a danger to the humans. They had to get rid of the danger, but
couldn't afford to fall prey to it. Thus the blindfold. He began to swear
vehemently through the gag.
Though the humans were amused by the swearing the leader
didn't remove the knife. It seemed that the humans were still intent on gouging
out his eyes. Shinigami was still unsure as to how they would know exactly
where his eyes were, but he supposed it didn't matter. If he so much as moved,
the blade would cut his eyelid.
Once Shinigami's swearing had come to a stop, the leader
began. He plunged the blade into the god's eye, cutting through the tissues,
blood vessels, and nerves that formed the sphere. Shinigami screamed, pain and
rage echoing in his voice, the yell heard for miles. Unfazed, the man continued
to cut, ignoring the blood spattering his hand.
After repeatedly stabbing the now mangled orb, the man
shoved his knife behind the destroyed eyeball, and forced it out of its socket.
It landed with a wet squish on Shinigami's lap. The immortal's lap was already
soaked with blood from his eye socket. Pain prevented him from feeling the
remnants of his eye land on his thigh. He continued to scream, thrashing in his
seat, heedless of the way his ties cut into his skin. The leader continued to
work on the second eye.
Shinigami was furious. Not only had the bastard cut out his
eye, but he was doing it with a fuckin' poisoned knife! There was no way he'd
be able to completely heal, even given a full millennia for recovery! It would
take his system months at the least to purge itself completely of the poison,
if that was even possible. By now the poison had been running around in his
system for perhaps an hour, maybe less, maybe more. Shinigami's heart had been
beating double time, helping the poison spread through his blood stream. By now
it had visited every part of his body, infecting it. And what with the loss if
his eyes! Shinigami had never before heard of another god who had re-grown lost
body parts! He didn't even think it was possible, not even for a god.
The humans didn't bother to attempt to remove the mutilated
eyeballs from Shinigami's lap. He was screaming, swearing at the top of his
lungs, violently trying to extricate himself from his bindings. They knew that they
had to kill him in order to prevent any more random killing sprees. However,
they were in no hurry.
The poison they had used was a powerful one, designed to
prevent any healing. It would stop the blood from exiting the body after a few
years, but the flesh would never pull together, would never loose it's red,
tender appearance, would never heal. It would always be sensitive to the touch
of anything, be it skin, cloth, or even a breath of wind.
The mortals wanted Shinigami to die, but they didn't want
his death to be a quick one. They had suffered, the entire human race had
suffered, too much and too long at the hands of the gods to pass up this
opportunity. Here, now, they had a live god, bound and helpless. A god who had
been particularly cruel to the human race, and must pay for his wrong doings.
They wanted to make him suffer, but they didn't want to go so far as to repeat
what Shinigami had done to them.
Knowing how proud Shinigami was of his hair, the humans
decided to deprive him of it. Aside from killing, the god loved nothing more
than his eyes and hair. Having previously taken the eyes, now the humans could
only take his hair before they took his life. It was only right. Shinigami had
murdered many of their loved ones, so he should loose his most prized
possessions and experience a bit of life without them.
The leader announced that he would be the one to cut the
first strand.
He walked to where Shinigami was restrained, pulling out
his knife. Snatching up a small lock of the chestnut colored hair, he placed it
against the blade. Shinigami drew in a sharp breath and began to struggle
violently. He started to curse rapidly through the gag once again, this time
using words that the humans gathered around he never heard before. The leader
lost hold of the lock of hair.
"Hold him down!" A few men ran to obey the
leader's order, grabbing hold of the thrashing god and doing their best to
restrain him.
The man made a loop with a new lock of hair, threading the
blade of the knife through it, sharp edge against the top of the loop. Slowly
he raised to knife, keeping the loop of hair still. Feeling a slight tug on his
scalp, Shinigami renewed his struggles. His efforts were in vain. Slowly the
blade cut through each strand of hair, severing them forever.
Shinigami felt the tugging on his scalp cease. He drew in a
ragged breath, the pain of his empty eye sockets forgotten. Without warning he
jerked to the side, away from the man who cut his hair. He hit something solid
but pliant and figured it was another of the humans. He continued to struggle,
not caring that the ties binding him cut into his skin. Soon the areas around
the bindings were nothing but bleeding, ragged, burning flesh.
With one desperate jerk, Shinigami burst from his bindings.
The humans gasped in surprise and fear, backing away from the loosed god. He
stood still for a moment, shaking with anger. The blindfold was still in place,
but two ragged holes had been but in them to get to the eyeballs. The cloth
around the holes was completely soaked with blood, more liquid oozing form the
torn tissue and muscle to run down his cheeks, staining the pale skin red like
tears of blood. A few tines were stuck in Shinigami's arms, legs, even his
chest. His clothes had been torn where the bindings had lain, revealing the
raw, broken flesh beneath. Blood seeped from these wounds, sticking the black
cloth to the god's skin.
In a rage, Shinigami flew at the man who still held the
small lock of hair. Even without his eyes, the god knew exactly where the human
was, how he stood, how he fell when hit. The furious god let loose with a punch
so powerful it shattered the man's skull upon impact, spraying blood
everywhere.
The other humans hadn't had time to run. Now they stood in
the room, frozen in pure terror, weakly hoping that their deaths would be
quick. The short performance only mili-seconds ago had crushed any hope of
survival like an ant under a giant's foot.
Shinigami turned to the remaining humans, giving them a
wonderful view of his eyeless face, covered in blood. One man fainted right
then, collapsing from the sheer horror consuming his body at the gruesome
sight. Undoubtedly many of the other humans wished that they, too, could faint
and block out the horrible sight of an enraged, sightless Shinigami covered in
the blood from his own wounds and that from the corpse behind him. At least,
the humans still capable of semi-logical thought processes wished to faint.
Others simply stood, watching with uncomprehending expressions, waiting for
their deaths, perhaps without even knowing it.
Shinigami smiled, a cruel, hungry, anticipatory smile. It
twisted his face in a most horrific way, moving the slimy muscles now visible
through the empty eye sockets. He took a step toward the bunch of alarmed
humans, relishing the fear that thickened the air, doing its best to strangle
the humans. The god glided forward, somehow avoiding the few obstacles that
stood in his path. This frightened the humans even more. Even without the use
of his awful violet eyes, Shinigami seemed to know exactly where everything,
and everyone, was.
He stopped two feet from the nearest human, one of the few
still possessing the ability to think, although he was quickly loosing that
skill. Shinigami reached out, grabbed the man's shirt collar and lifted. The
man, now suspended about a foot in the air, whimpered, sounding for all the
world like a scared puppy dog.
"Where are they." Shinigami demanded, his voice
low and menacing.
The man stared down at the horrible sight of Shinigami's
ruined face, vocal cords paralyzed. He could do nothing but stare and whimper
as he hung above the floor. The god growled in frustration at the uncooperative
human. He flung the mortal to the side, smirking as the sound of the man
slamming into the wall reached his ears. There was no way anyone short of a god
could have survived the impact.
Shinigami moved on to the next human. The human had the
misfortune to be almost exactly the same height as the god, and was forced to
look straight into the holes of butchered red flesh. No matter how hard he
tried, he couldn't force his own gaze away form the bloody sight.
"Where."
"Ah-ah-oh my g-!" The man's shout was cut short
when Shinigami lost patience with him and crushed his neck.
The god worked his way through the entire group, not
missing a single human despite the loss of his eyes. To every one he voiced the
same demand, received the same response. Shinigami killed them all. Finally he
stopped above the fainted human, the only human left alive in the room, and
perhaps the only one left alive on the continent.
He bent down, squatting on the bloodstained floor. Reaching
out a hand, Shinigami snatched a handful of hair and pulled the head up.
Keeping a hold on the man's hair, the god used his other hand to slap the man
soundly across the face. The human didn't wake.
Sighing, the god dropped the man's head back to the floor.
He reached over and grasped the arm of a nearby corpse. Giving it a twist,
Shinigami wrenched the arm from its socket. Holding the arm ripped end up, he
turned back to the live human, ignoring the blood that washed over his boots.
Slowly he tipped the arm, listening as the blood emptied form the dead limb
onto the head of the fainted human. As the first drops ran over his face, the
human woke. He opened his eyes to see Shinigami squatting above him, holding a
disembodied arm above the human head, the blood falling onto the blond hair.
The man's eyes widened, mouth opened, vocal cords began to
vibrate. Hearing the scream, Shinigami raised his hand and slapped the human
once again. When this did nothing to stop the yelling, the god sighed and clapped
his hand over the man's mouth. The human continued to scream.
"Where. Are. They."
Wordless screaming.
The god removed his hand from the human's mouth.
"Where," Shinigami wrenched the man's left leg off at the knee.
"The hell," The right leg came off, disconnected at the hip.
"Are," He tore the human's arm from his torso. "My," The
god pulled the other arm off, paused. "Eyes." The hysterical
screaming was silenced as the human's head departed company with his shoulders
and flew across the room.
Shinigami stood, licked the blood from his hands. He stood
still, surrounded by the carnage. Absently he fingered the shortened twist of
hair, thinking. Suddenly he cursed.
"Crap. Now there's no one left to tell me where to
find my eyes. This sucks. Now I have to call someone for help." He made a
face at the word "help".
"Unless you want to bumble around this dump for the
rest of eternity."
Shinigami didn't seem surprised at the appearance of the
new voice. "You're right, Wu-man. I know, I know. Don't call you Wu-man.
Well, help me find my eyes and I promise I won't call you Wu-man again. For a
while anyway."
"Iya."
"Nani!? Wufei, you have to help me. I didn't finish
killing all the humans yet, and without my eyes, I won't be able to. Do you know
how hard it is to get even a vague picture of my surroundings? Extremely. I'll
die of exhaustion before the humans do. And aren't you the one who-"
"Damare yo." Wufei glared at the other god,
forgetting that he wouldn't be able to see it. "The humans destroyed your
eyes. I thought you knew. After all, they are your eyes."
"Kuso, Wufei, it hurt. They used a friggin' poisoned
knife on me! Dammit, what am I supposed to do?" Shinigami frowned. "I'm
not going to be able to kill them all."
"That is not necessary. Treize had a change of heart.
He wanted me to tell you to stop killing. I suppose this is just a precaution of
sorts then." Wufei said loftily. "By the way, you can blame your
predicament on Quatre. He warned the humans of your coming. Goodbye,
Shinigami."
"Kuso, Wufei, get your ass back here!" Shinigami
shouted, but Wufei had already left. "Kuso. Quatre told them? Sounds like something
he'd do. Dammit, if I ever got my hands on that guy…"
Shinigami carefully made his way out of the room, trying
not to trip over any of the numerous corpses. He transported himself to the
interior of his home, not planning to loose his life trying to get past
obstacles he couldn't see. He was the god of death because he brought death
upon others, not because he wanted to bring death upon himself.
He stayed there, holed up in his house for years, until a
human called to him. The man said he would give Shinigami eyes to replace his
own in return for his heart's desire. Shinigami appeared before the man, almost
terrifying him out of making the trade. In all the time the god had been
isolated, his eye sockets hadn't healed at all. Blood still dripped from the
empty holes, leaving dark stains on the white cheeks. The wounds from the
knives and bindings hadn't healed either. They were still there, soaking
Shinigami's black clothing and making it cling.
The man gathered his courage and offered the god the eyes.
Shinigami grinned, grabbed the eyes, and placed them in the raw eye sockets.
However, the human had made a grave mistake. The eyes had been those of a
near-sighted, brown-eyed man, not what Shinigami wanted. He pulled the eyes out
of his sockets and threw them away. Before the human could move, the god pounced
on him.
Shinigami forced open the man's eyelid and held it open
with one hand. The other hand reached forward, the pale fingers wrapping around
the man's eyeball. He screamed, began to thrash around under the god. Shinigami
simply used his knees to pin the man's arms in place successfully stopping the
human's pathetic attempts to scratch the god off his stomach.
The immortal grasped the eye and pulled. It resisted,
stubbornly staying in the human's head. He pulled harder, and the sphere popped
loose. Shinigami's lips curved as he fitted it in place. He could feel the
muscles and tissues moving over the back of the foreign eye, as if trying to
determine how good it was. They pulled away momentarily, then attached
themselves to the eye; the nerves and blood vessels connected last.
He had no eyelids with which to blink or cover some of the
whites. The effect was gruesome, but Shinigami seemed pleased with the new turn
of events. He turned the one eye on the man lying beneath him. He had good vision,
and although his eyes were black, whey would do. Shinigami began to work on the
second eye.
Once he had both eyes, the god addressed the human.
"These eyes will do, but they're not enough to compensate for your earlier
mistake. I haven't seen blood in so long…" With that, Shinigami raked his
nails down the man's arm. Four bright red marks appeared, then blood flowed
from them. The god grinned, ran his finger along one of the tender cuts. He
pulled his finger back and licked the blood off. "Mmm, B, my favorite
type."
Shinigami continued to cut the man, pausing every now and
then to lick the blood from his hands. The human had not stopped screaming. The
god sitting on his stomach ignored the human's pleas. Finally Shinigami stopped
cutting the man and stood up. The human writhed on the ground, hands clasped
over his eye sockets.
"Well, I suppose that'll do. Somehow, I doubt you'll
be telling me your wish. Fine. Make me look into your mind. Lessee," Shinigami
placed one hand over the man's chest and the other on his forehead, ignoring
the way he flinched at the god's touch. "Aha! Might have known.
Death."
The god clenched his hand, long fingers delving deep into
the man's chest. He avoided the ribs and ripped through tissue and muscle until
he reached the heart. Shinigami stiffened his fingers and pushed them deep into
the pulsing organ. The man choked, spasmed, finally lay still. The god withdrew
his fingers and licked them clean. Stepping over the dead body, Shinigami
walked out of the door.
For a full year he used the human eyes. At the beginning
they would get extremely dry, with no eyelids to moisten them. However,
Shinigami soon found the solution. By using a mixture of certain powdered
herbs, water, and a few drops of his own blood, the god was able to keep the
eyes moist. A few drops would last about two days, and the mixture was easy to
make.
However, 11 months after he had taken the eyes from the
human, the solution began to loose its potency. Even when he made new and
modified mixtures, the eyes quickly dried. The nerves and blood vessels were
pulling back, retreating from the eyes. It became obvious that he must find
replacements, and soon. Shinigami began to roam the land, looking for a
replacement. He hoped to find one of the human "traitors". Perhaps
the violet eyes of these people would serve as a long-term replacement.
Shinigami was in luck in the fact that one of these
"traitors" had been born only a few years previous. It was still too
young to care for itself. The god conjured an image of where the child was, then
transported himself there.
The human mother was extremely frightened when the dreaded
god of death appeared before her. She jumped up and ran, abandoning her baby.
Shinigami bent down to retrieve the child from the blanket on which it lay
sleeping. When the child felt itself being lifted, it woke, opening sleepy
violet eyes. The god stood, looking down at the child in his arms. Then he
snapped its neck.
Reaching into his own lidless eye socket, Shinigami pulled
out the right eye and tossed it away. He pulled out the child's eye and placed
it in the hole, feeling the tissues and muscles check out the new eye. Once all
was settled, the god began with the left side. When it was done, he dropped the
body of the child, wiping the blood from his face. He grinned, pleased, and
licked the blood from his fingers.
After a full year had passed and the eyes showed no sign of
rejecting the herbal mixture and being rejected in turn, Shinigami felt that
all he eye problems were solved. He went back to tormenting the humans, never
forgetting what a few of their number have done to him. It didn't matter that a
god had warned the humans of his approach. Besides, it was Quatre, the one god
who hated for anything to die. He'd most likely assumed that the humans would
simply run and hide instead of devising a trick designed to kill.
Unfortunately, close to a decade after replacing the eyes,
Shinigami's new eyes began to dry out. So he hadn't found a permanent solution
to his problem after all. However, he thought that the violet eyes were his best
bet, and once he had had the violet eyes in his sockets, the god didn't want to
go back to replacing the eyes every year. It was fun, pulling the eyeballs form
the human heads, but Shinigami was far from masochistic. He didn't particularly
find pleasure in ripping the muscles, tissues, nerves and blood vessels
attached to the eyeballs in his head. Besides, violet eyes were his trademark
characteristic; he couldn't give them up.
He supposed he could use a regular human's eyes until
another violet-eyed child was born, but that would mean replacing them yearly.
Was ripping out his eyes once a year worth the limited sight of a mortal human?
Shinigami thought about it, but decided not every year. When it neared the time
of a violet-eyed child's birth, then he would attain new human eyes, so he
could look for the child.
Eventually the violet eyes dried up. Shinigami didn't
bother to find any replacements for them for 8 more decades. He figured 10
years or so was enough time for another violet-eyed child to be born and found.
The god stayed at home, not doing much of anything except occasionally
conjuring images of the human world. Most often he imagined what he'd do to the
humans once he got some new eyes. Gods can be impatient, but once they set
their minds on something, nothing can change their minds.
A couple centuries passed this way, until Shinigami heard a
human calling to him. Curious, the god transported himself to the man's
location. He hadn't had time to replace the dried eyes, so the eye sockets were
empty. Shinigami never bothered to bandage the ragged holes in his head. They
were still as raw as the day they were cut, although they bled very little.
Hesitantly, the human pressed a large object into the
immortal's hands. Running his fingers over it, Shinigami identified it as a decapitated
head. No liquid dripped onto his hands from the neck, so the man had previously
bled it.
Noticing the way Shinigami's hand felt the neck, the man
hurried to speak. "I didn't want the blood to drip, so I put it in this container.
The eyes are violet, like your old ones. I heard what you did to my ancestor. I
hope I did a better job."
Shinigami's mouth twisted into something resembling a
smile. "Let's hope so." He found the eyes and pulled one out. After
it was settled into place, the god looked around. He could see the resemblance
between this man and his ancestor. Perhaps they had the same blood type.
He glanced at the head in his hands. The eyes were darker
than his original ones, almost blue. The flesh was just beginning to smell,
though it still looked fine. Pale, but then again, this was a dead human's head.
The blood had been removed.
The god dislodged the other eye and placed it in his own
eye socket. He let the head fall to the floor with a thump. He looked back at
the human holding a large vial of blood. Shinigami reached out and plucked the
vial from the hands of the man. He held it up, sloshing the blood around a
little. Pleased, he uncorked it. The human watched with wide eyes as Shinigami
dipped a finger in the red liquid then licked it off. He smiled and re-corked
the container, tucking it away among the folds of black cloth.
"So? You humans never give anything for nothing.
Spill." The god crossed his arms and waited.
"Ah, well, you see, my daughter…she died recently, and
I was wondering… if you would be so kind…" He caught sight of Shinigami's
foot tapping impatiently. "If you would bring her back?"
"I'm the god of death; I take life, I don't give it.
But, since you went through all the trouble of giving me these eyes and the blood,
I'll make an exception. Let's see the corpse."
The man blanched at the working Shinigami chose, but led
the way inside a nearby shed. He lit a candle and set it on a rickety shelf
near the door. Atop a small pallet lay the pale body of a young girl, no more
than five years old. The smell of sickness still clung to the corpse,
thickening the stale air. Shinigami walked closer, closely examining the body
with his newly acquired eyes.
She really had dead recently. The flesh had barely begun to
smell. Aside from the smell and the fact that the skin was practically white,
the girl could have been peacefully sleeping. Her face was calm, skin
undamaged. The body was thin, as if she hadn't been able to eat anything in her
last days.
Shinigami reached his hand into a fold of his garment,
pulling out a small knife. He tested the blade against his thumb, smiling when
the blood began to flow almost before the knife touched his skin. The blood was
darker than human blood, thick as syrup. Letting the blood drip from his
finger, he brought the knife up again, placing it against the inside of his
wrist. A shallow cut was drawn, the blood welling up instantly.
Before any of the blood could drip onto the floor,
Shinigami forced open the young corpse's mouth and held his bleeding wrist against
its lips. The dead mouth closed momentarily, then opened again on its own.
Shinigami removed his fingers, silently staring down at the dead body. The
carcass continued to drink, stiff lips caressing the god's wrist, swollen
tongue licking the drops of blood that threatened to spill over onto the pale
cheeks.
As the fluid flowed into the girl's dead body, a subtle
darkness surrounded it. Nothing else changed. The waxy skin was still pale,
still smelled. The bony chest didn't rise with an intake of air. The corpse lay
still, unchanged but for the darkness tainting the air around it.
The human watching form the corner almost cried in
disappointment. He had been unnerved when the god had force-fed his blood to
his daughter's body, but when the cut healed, he expected to color to come back
to her cheeks, her chest to rise and fall with the rhythm of her breathing, her
eyelids to open. Nothing. His daughter still lay on the small pallet, pale as
death, not breathing, not moving.
Shinigami hadn't removed his wrist. It still rested above
the body's now still mouth. He lowered his head, leveling it with the corpse's.
He whispered in its ear, then stood back. The body opened its dark eyes, stared
into lidless violet ones. It sat up, faced what used to be its father. A small
smile twisted its mouth. Carefully it slid off the pallet and walked toward the
man.
He eyed his daughter, slowly backing away. Nothing had
changed aside from the fact that the body was now up and walking, the eyes
open. Those eyes had been so beautiful in life, sparkling with happiness. Now,
they were dead, capturing the frail light the candle offered and absorbing it
in their dark depths.
"Wh-what did you do?"
Shinigami shrugged. "Isn't that what you wanted? I
brought it back to life. You never said anything about how it came back." With
that, the god disappeared.
The man drew in a breath and coughed as he caught the
unmistakable scent of death emanating from the living corpse before him. It
stood, staring at him, the small smile curving its lips. It didn't say
anything, didn't move, only watched with the dead eyes.
The human scrambled backwards out the door, spooked by the
empty eyes and smile of the body of what used to be his daughter. He didn't
dare call that thing his daughter anymore. The body standing in the shed was
dead, was only an imitation of life.
He was scared of going back, scared of what the body of his
daughter had become, all because of a wish made from loneliness and
desperation. But he couldn't avoid the shed forever. It was his home, the only
place the poor man could afford. Gathering his failing courage, he walked back
to the shed, opening the door. The living corpse still stood where he had last
seen it, smiling that eerie smile. He cleared his throat, hiding behind the
open door.
"Come –come out here."
The body obeyed, walking out into the cold night. It stood
just out side the door, looking blankly at the man. Hearing one more request,
it stepped away from the door. The man scuttled past the corpse, ran into the
shed and slammed the door. He lay on his own pallet on the floor, staring up
into the darkness, trying to ignore the smell of death left from the body. He
closed his eyes, wishing that his mother had never told him that story about
his ancestor's death. He opened his eyes, then screamed.
The cadaver posing as his daughter was standing over him,
staring down with empty eyes.
Hearing the scream, Shinigami smiled. He had planted a bug
on the girl's body, wanting to hear how the human's fooling wish turned out.
Perhaps he could stop in a few days later and inquire how the little family was
doing. This was revenge, revenge for the man's ancestor's mistake. Had he really
assumed that Shinigami would settle for a pair of second-rate eyes?
A few days later, Shinigami materialized in the small room.
It was just as he remembered, save that the girl's pallet had been removed. The
floor was just a dirty as ever, the walls filled with holes. A meager bundle of
food was on the shelf with the candle, half covered by a tattered cloth. There
was nothing else worth mentioning.
The man was cowering in the far corner, the body of his
daughter standing over him. Its flesh had begun to rot in earnest, filling the
tiny space with the stench of death. Flies buzzed around its head, a few worms
crawled inside the holes in its flesh. The muscles and bones visible through
these holes weren't wet, as they should have been on a living girl, but dry, as
if they had been exposed to elements for a few days. Which, Shinigami realized,
was very possible.
The human caught sight of the god and scrambled past the
living corpse to fling himself at the immortal's feet. "Please, please, help
me! You have to get rid of that –that thing!" He motioned toward the
cadaver staring at them, the tiny smile still fixed in place.
"You're the one who wanted it back. Besides, there's
no way for the dead to die."
"You –you can't mean…" The man stuttered.
"Yeah. You're stuck with it. Unless you want me to do
something with you…" Shinigami let the offer hang in the stale, stinking
air.
The human leaped for it instantly, not caring what the
consequences might be.
Shinigami grinned, grabbed the man's arm, fingers digging
into the flesh, brushing the bone beneath. The man screamed, immediately
regretting taking the god's offer. The god wrapped his other hand around the
human throat, stopping the airflow. He prepared to force the vertebrae through
the man's windpipe, but a soft pressure on his arm stopped him.
Looking to the right, Shinigami saw the hand of the living
corpse resting on his arm. A glance at its face revealed to the god why he had
been stopped. The corpse didn't want to see the blood of its father, whom it
still loved, even in death. The god nodded. Letting go of the man's arm,
Shinigami pressed his palm against the man's chest, feeling the heart pulse
quickly beneath his hand. Dark energy gathered around his hand, then surged
into the man's chest.
A vivid picture filled the god's head, a picture of the
heart, red and pulsing, surrounded by Shinigami's black power. He watched as
tendrils of energy gently probed the muscle, ghosting across its slimy surface.
Where ever they touched turned black and began to cave in. The beating slowed,
valves opening and closing much too slow. It didn't help that Shinigami had cut
off the air to the man's lungs.
Before the entire muscle turned black and rotten, the dark
power pulled back. It surged through the rest of the man's body, toughing
everything. Nerves, muscles, tendons, ligaments, veins, arteries, all turned
black and collapsed in on themselves. They left the man's brain alone, pulling back
out before they neared it.
The power returned to Shinigami's hand. He pulled away,
releasing the man's neck. The man tried to cough, but his rotting lungs weren't
able to expand and contract. He sagged to the floor, gasping. The cadaver watched
her father's face turn blue with the same, small, distant smile that hadn't
left her lips since her resurrection.
Shinigami sighed, glanced at the rotting body. It tilted
its head, staring blankly back at the god. He smiled, understanding its silent
message. Walking out the door, he closed it behind him. There was no doorknob.
Shinigami pressed his hand against the closed door, and fire began to lick at
the wood around the god's hand. He turned and walked away as the flames
consumed the tiny room.
~~~
"So you see, you have to be very careful about dealing
with Shinigami. He knows how to hold a grudge, and exact revenge." The
woman crossed her arms. "It's been about 100 years or so since the last
violet-eyed child was born, according to my grandmother. You may be able to
find the new one and call Shinigami. Then you could have whatever you want. A
better home, money, more friends…I only want you to be happy." The woman
sneered.
At the word "friends", the young boy started. He
could bring back his friend, give them both better lives. He would be careful about
making the deal, specifying exactly what he wanted. He wouldn't be a stupid as
that man. There was no way his friend would end up as a zombie. It didn't
matter that he didn't have the body, or that by the time he found the
violet-eyed person the body could be rotted beyond recognition. Shinigami was a
god; he could create a new body for his friend, one that wasn't beat up.
Everything would be great, better than they had ever had.
The boy scrambled out of the small room, mind set on
gaining some of Shinigami's blood. Seeing the determination in the boy's eyes,
the woman smiled. She trusted him to do all he could to find a violet-eyed
person and trade their eyes and blood for some of Shinigami's blood. That was
one –perhaps the only- good thing he got from his damn father.
Or perhaps the child had acquired another desirable trait
from the idiot man. Both had been easily tricked, completely manipulated to
suit the woman's needs. Yes, the boy's father had gotten his revenge, but not
intentionally. He had run, leaving the woman to discover she was pregnant after
he was long gone. She had had to raise the bastard's child by herself, but soon
she would be rid of that burden. Forever.
"Run along, little boy, to seal your fate."
~ Tsuzuku ~
