This is a "Thank you" story, hope you enjoy! (The reason this is so twisted and sad is because I am so happy)
Pomegranate
I will eat a pomegranate a day, two hundred seeds and fifty dreams, I will drink my pain and eat my heart, everyday. Red liquid be my blood, the seeds may be my mind, I will eat them up, two hundred times for all those years every time, and when I finally give up, I will eat again, just let me go... And no matter what you say, I will always stay by your side. Never let me go.
The air was thick with musk, hanging over the world like a blanket of death, misty and dark, choking one of needed air.
Her hair tumbled down her back and her eyes were a bursting blue. Her eyes were painful and her tears were new. She looked at him in fear and maybe she should, for there were pomegranate seeds on the floor infront of her, all seven, red, juicy, and full of blood.
A tear streaked down.
Even she knew what that meant. Seven seeds, perfectly chosen and all the same size, the liquid beneath the invisible peel so clear and yet so red you can see the seed in it.
Red, cold, and lined up, waiting for her. Some will say, after millions of years, that this story was fake, that even so, she signed up for it and she got what she should have gotten. And maybe she got what she deserved, for some say she was the messenger of Judas. Yet from the same lips the mention of love was heavenly, she did it for love, and maybe, not in vain?
"Eat." He commanded as another tear appeared so subtly. She didn't look up, she had to fight. For if she looked up, she'll see his beauty, the one that lured her into this mess, into this desire to forsaken god. His red eyes gleamed as he laughed at her futile attempt.
"Is it worth it?" He asked, a delicate smirk upon his lips. Tears slowly poured down, but she made no sound, and if for even the most trained demon slayer, they would think the tears as invisible rain drops if it have not been coming out of her eyes. They fell with no hiccups, no sobs. Just silent torture, a silent please. His laugh bounced off the walls and she, if it was even months before, would have winced. The laugh slipped through his lips as smoothly as liquid and as hurtful as needles, and bounced back as gleaming knifes sharpened to such perfection a demon's claws would seem dull. She did not wince now though, foolishness it may be, but who cares, who knows?
She did not understand, she may never. She wanted to look up, so badly, for some part of her idiotically thought if maybe she could just... Maybe look up, she will find all the answers to her questions within his eyes. And maybe it was true, maybe she was just afraid to understand what she already knew.
What was her future, her past, her present.
What was her yesterday, her today, her tomorrow.
What was her last year, this year, next year.
What was her last second, this second, next second.
What was her past life, this life, next life.
What was her this tear, next tear, last tear.
What was her this hour, next hour, last hour.
What was her yesterday's dream, tomorrow's dream, her today's dream.
And she knew everything, she knew the answers to everything and she tried to block it all out because it hurts oh so much for people to understand... It hurts her so much.
That she was bidding for the devil, that she agreed to do whatever he wanted so she can be happy, and she no more then forgot all the souls hurt when she felt his breath upon her neck, whispering, arousing her until she felt as if she just stepped out of the shower. Hot, and refreshed.
"I don't want to." She said steadily, not at all quivering from the intense gaze his eyes looking at her. Her voice did not hint she was crying and she was afraid. She was angry, at herself, what she did, and the knowledge that she will continue to do this. But this, this, what his final test, she concluded.
He's going to make me eat those pomegranate seeds! She realized, He's going to lay down those pomegranate seeds, probably filled with magic so it will not rot, infront of me, and make me stay in the room. He's probably going to give me a choice, see my commitment to him... And if he doesn't see what he likes, he's going to... Going to kill my friends!
Maybe he saw her horrified face, no matter how well concealed it was, or maybe he was just humored by the obviously weak protest she had said. Whatever it was, she knew he was chuckling at it.
This time, she did flinch.
"My darling, you and I both know sugarcoating was never, and shall never be my style, so let us use my favorite style shall we?" He asked slowly, as if talking to an infant, even if the only reason he was doing it because Kagome was still crying. He had a two second, and very disgusting urge, to hug her when she let out a deranged whimper, a whimper that said she was scared, scared so bad and she needed comfort. Damn Onigumo.
"Wha- wha- what are you- you talk- talking about?" She stuttered out, this time she had lost a bit of the mask she had craftily built in her heart, on her face, in herself. She wanted to be captious, and he saw right through it. He smirked.
"Don't tell me now my dear, sweet," she flinched as he went on, "Kagome." His red eyes gleamed a maroon color and for a split second, Kagome saw the broken limbs of Sango's children and grandchildren and her head, cut off from the body. She wanted to cough out her dinner as the remains of Shippou came into her head. One second later, the images disappeared, but Naraku smiled sadistically, as if knowing what was going through her mind.
With her tears still coming as her hand shaking in a never ending, and evil, rhythm, she lifted her arm, towards the first pomegranate seed, noticing the irregular shape at once, this one came in a round shape, and not a tear shape. Her blue eyes lingering on her kimono sleeve. It was blue, to fit her eyes he had said, and was of the greatest quality. The patterns were unbelievable, and even now, Kagome with her enhanced eyesight because of Naraku's new power from the Shikon no Tama, to stop aging, she could not really figure out where the patterns stop, and where it began.
"Eat." He commanded, and Kagome felt sick, knowing what he was feeling from reading his voice. To outsiders, and even most of the time with Kagura and Kanna, all they heard was a dark sensual sound that was never angry unless the miasma rolled out to prove the anger was real, never sad and never confused either. Just a sly cunningness most people reserve for the words 'Oh really?' and 'We'll see about that.'. Every word, as Kagome had learned over the years, was a trick, a trap, a cage hidden amongst flowers, everything, every word.
But Kagome also knew, that despite how he sounded, his feelings were entirely different most of the time. He showed his anger by nothing, he showed his sorrow by nothing, he showed his disappointment by nothing, he never showed anything and he never wanted to show anything except for the dark humor he had already been used like a mechanism in his voice, strained from all the use and oiled everyday.
But Kagome knew.
Had he been human, maybe it would be called excitement, maybe... Giddiness? It can even, she used to muse, be compared to the voice of a five year old waiting for her toy to appear out of her mother's hands when it's been at the dryers for seven days straight.
Kagome smiled, sadly yes, as her tears slowly dried up. It felt like hours, those few precious moments in which her hand tiny and the drape of her long blue patterned sleeve, which she knew will never wear again, barely touched the first seed but can already feel it. It held a, shall one say, dry humor? Maybe, yes, that is what you call it is it not? Dry humor. That seven juicy seeds, all red and easy to puncture with her two hundred seven year old fangs. Let the water, the juice fall, roll, caress over her tongue and sweetly hug her mouth until the substance is driven away by saliva. The simple fact that if the seeds were on a red cushion and served in a lavishly decorated room, even humans with little greed would eye them in a need to devour them. Even demons would be tempted, for perfection radiated from those seeds, even if demons can feel the demonic energy, knows they will be damned if they eat it.
Kagome was to be damned anyways.
What do I care? I'll be damned forever until the Earth deems it worthy for me to die, but no, Naraku would resurrect me, even if I burn myself, and use the same body if he had his way. He had his way for all those years, finally killing Kohaku and instead of using a corrupted shard, he used his own little part of living soul and planted itself in the heart of Kohaku's life energy, possessing him when needed. He will have his way, even if it kills him, he will do what he set to do. And he set to damn himself and damn me with him so I can descend to hell with him when he wants. The bastard. Kagome thought, and if thoughts can be spat out, she would have.
But like Kagome felt, it was hours squeezed into seconds, and those few seconds a look of utter madness rebuilt on Naraku's face, Kagome didn't even feel it. What does she want, I treat her with respect, give her a different outfit for every day, and feed her with the most exotic foods, what does she want for her to commit herself to me? Was the trust I gained for her for nothing? Naraku's inner demon screamed. However, it changed it's mind very soon, for it was vanity in a body, and it knew Kagome loved him more then life itself. His inner demon laughed, and Naraku felt suddenly a silent in-control rage inside him. One of absolute loathing, one that diminished in seconds but lasted a lifetime.
Her long talons touched the first seed, slightly surprised they did not break. She heard his whisper, a mocking one, and she felt her other hand clutch into a fist.
"Now darling, we don't want to break them do we?" He asked, his voice was liquid, can only be described as orotund. Her eyes squeezed shut in disgust and in what one may call lust. For she felt something that pushed her to answer him, in the most submissive way.
"Yes Lord Naraku."
He was excited, exhilarated. He was dangerous, and to Kagome, just as addictive a a drug. You can't leave him, and you would do anything to drink him from a straw and never stop. He'll never dry up and you wish with all your might that he will so that you would stop thinking of him, stop sacrificing for one taste.
Her thumb and forefinger went around the seed, and she felt his demonic energy go to the next level.
"Eat." He gently, quietly coaxed. She smiled once again, for she knew the Naraku was anything but gentle. He wanted her absolute surrender, and will probably keep persuading her until she ate.
She lifted her hand, and in seconds, the seed was between her teeth. His excitement was so high, so addicting. She bit down.
And then, the blood suddenly poured over her tongue in a whirl of flavors.
Sweet, tangly, smooth, rough, sour, perfect.
She heard his laughter. His first laugh, not chuckle, laugh. It was dark, it was malicious, and it made Kagome shiver with anticipation, not unlike when she watched her lover slowly undress himself.
"Naraku?" She asked, and heard the laughter again. The taste of the juice lingered in her mouth and it scared her.
"You showed me your commitment by the first seed, why not eat them all? The third, the second too?" He asked, smirking. Kagome quivered a little, for now she could feel the changing level in her power. I'm turning demon, she realized, not just with a bit of demonic energy to keep me young and beautiful, enough to turn me demon, a power that shall rage against my heart itself, my purity, it's, it's tainting! No, no, it's not, it's, it's dancing with the darkness seeping within my very soul?
"You see?" He asked. Kagome just moaned out, in both pleasure and pain. The power, the extra energy, everything, it was making her feel reborn, and yet it was mutating her body. Her heart beat slower then the normal human heart, yet it was faster then the normal demon heart too, the pure energy within her protected against big changes. She felt small things happen, her ears grew elf like, while her once blue green eyes turn a stunning grey blue. Her midnight black hair whipped from invisible wind, and her already accented cheekbones became more mature, higher, and yet not enough to make her childish cheeks disappear fully. Her already lissome body turned more so.
It wasn't changing her, just pronouncing her certain body parts.
Then she felt it.
It was the only really change. It felt like two tiny feathers tickling her back. It didn't hurt, rather pleasant. For one second, she didn't know what it was, then she recognized the feeling. It was the same as when she had first turned into a bird. When Naraku had to get her away immediately, he turned her into a robin for a while. It had been about one hundred and twenty two days ago, it was the last time Inuyasha was able to track down Naraku. Naraku never did say what happened to Inuyasha, or rather, what he said. She watched the mirror constantly and saw Inuyasha, alive and well, though his attempts to find Naraku were weaker.
He deserves the love Kikyo gives him. You went to Naraku when you realized he loved you like a sister and now he has found love. Do not blame him, he tries.
Was he turning her into a bird?
"Eat." He said coldly, much more calculated, "The transformation only fulfills when all seven seeds have been eaten, you are making this prolix."
"You speak of time as one with triskaidekaphobia speaks of thirteen." She whispered. Instead of forcing her to eat, to stop this talk, to make her give herself faster, he said something that surprised her.
"Incorrect, while one with triskaidekaphobia is scared of the number thirteen, I merely think wasting time is something that is not needed for, now eat."
And she did.
Her hand slowly crept to the second one, though not as slow as before. This time, with no hesitation, she put it into her mouth. The second one was rather the same as the first one, and she felt the tingling on her back spread slightly. Her eyelashes grew a bit more too, yet she still can't figure out if she was to turn into a bird, or something else.
Her hand, with now more confidence, and less regret, picked up the third seed.
It nearly broke in between her fingers, and she could almost hear Naraku breath out a sigh of disapproval. A sigh that didn't exist, but should have.
She ate it.
And that was the whole cycle.
The forth.
The fifth.
The sixth...
And each time the flurry of flavors, bitter, sour, sweet, clean, and fresh exciting taste would make her hold her breath and the prickle on her back would spread like a web of tiny stings, an electrifying thrill.
And as she finished all six, her eyes would stared at each one before breaking the delicate peel, and wished once again she wasn't here, that she wasn't here to do what he wanted. Was she really this agog to please him? Really this desperate to please him? Was she really?
Maybe so. What she hated about most, what she really wanted out of her system was the thought that kept coming in her mind when she wanted out, she thought, will I live without him?
I feel as if, I will be desultory without him. I will be aimless, without life in my veins. My heart will grow fast again and yet I will not feel more warmth then I do now. Why do I feel that I would turn pusillanimous without him? The need I feel for him is aberrant, wrong, abnormal.
You're dreaming of Fiddler's Green child, forget about him, run away, there is too much demonic energy that even he can't annihilate you without actually bodily harming you, and even that is better then what we are going through now. Her conscience quietly proclaimed to her.
I love him.
"Damn you to the depths of the seven hells." She said casually to him, her eyes calm and her hand relaxed. Her hair sat on her shoulders like melted onyx, murky shadows, starless nights.
He smiled smugly.
"I already am."
He was already.
And she ate it.
Once upon a time there was a spider and a beautiful little girl.
The little girl smiled at him with the biggest trusting eyes and let the big spider climb on her. She touched his soul and he was acquisitive little thing, so he made sure she came back every time. And of course, she was tender and warm hearted, and she loved the little spider because she was all alone just like him, so she came back, every time.
One day, the little spider made sure she didn't see his long jagged fangs. The venom dripped dangerously and yet the little innocent darling of a spirit never suspected anything.
She trusted him.
She only saw him.
He was her companion.
He was her idolized hero.
He was best friend friend friend.
He heard her secrets, from the ones from her heart and the ones from her mind.
He knew everything about her, from sports she preferred to the number of fir flies she liked to catch, thirteen, for she never thought like the towns people who all had a bad case of triskaidekaphobia.
He was everything she ever knew, she gave him her love, friendship, everything her little heart could afford to give.
Suddenly, the flowers wilted and the sky turned black, and the spider with so much greed and so much need for her to stay, for he knows one day she'll leave for someone else to take, he bit down. For he can never life with himself if he lot her. He was, as you all should know by now, blind to the fact the little girl depended on him too much to leave.
It happened fast, the wing sprouted and though wrinkled they may be, they were beautiful and when straightened out, sure to amaze many people. The blues and the greens with the purples, blacks and pinks where as clear as day and splatted the world with their amazing colors. She shrunk and she shrunk and she turned petite.
And then she opened her eyes, big clear blue eyes that were confused as she gazed at him. He smiled wickedly as he carried her to the middle of the web.
"Welcome little butterfly."
For the things she had given him, he repaid with the reminder, she gave him the seven pomegranates he had provided.