I prefer writing my own thoughts and such at the end of a chapter for the sake of flow, but due to the dark themes in this oneshot, I've made an exception to make a detailed warning.
Warning: This oneshot contains a character with Yandere tendencies, psychotic and twisted love, possible gore, mentions of non-consensual sex, abuse, self-harm and possible other dark themes.
She happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time, and a chance encounter with him left her once white soul dyed red. They'd only touched for a moment, but that would soon change. "Why do you keep doing this..?" "Because once is not enough." Yandere!MenmaxOC
It all began with a single touch.
It had been an accident, she was simply returning home after shopping for groceries when it happened and, if anyone had been asked, they would assure that the girl had not been the one at fault. Everyone could see that, except perhaps, the girl herself. She was minding her own business, checking her grocery bags one more time when the boy had bumped into her and she'd fallen to the ground.
The girl, entirely certain it was her lack of attention that caused the affair, apologized profusely to the boy after the mishap, but was met with silence. Believing the issue to be with her, she seemed to lose her voice, unsure of what to do.
He had spoken then, told her with an angry snarl what worth she held in this world and she had nodded gently in response, too shocked to deny his claim. He had paused then, seemingly thoughtful and the girl wondered, what thoughts swirled in that mind of his as he stared.
His eyes were dark, she noticed then, as was his hair – as was his soul – and his clothes. He was dark.
She was dark too, on the outside with her dark, dark maroon hair and her big, deep brown eyes. But she was bright on the inside. So very white, so very pure, so very innocent. The girl did not realize what danger the thoughts within his mind posed to her. So she apologized once more, bowing and promising it would never happen again.
But it was far too late.
She had touched a place deep within him, and once was not enough.
The second time they met, she lost part of herself.
A strand of hair.
She never even knew she had lost it. One moment she had been casually walking along the outskirts of the village as she so often did – he knew because he followedfollowedfollowed her – and the next there was a flash and three, four, seven-ten-eighteen strands of hair were shortened. Not by more than an inch, no, or she might notice, but an inch shorter they were.
Another sixteen steps and he swiped the kunai at her hair once more, another twenty-seven strands joining the first eighteen.
Because once was never enough.
The third time they met, he saved her life and took it for himself.
She had never held a weapon in her life. She did not know how to fight, never had, never desired to know. She stayed inside the village, she expected to be safe inside of those walls. She was supposed to be safe.
And yet before her stood a man wishing harm upon her, his weapon glinting in the pale moonlight, a twisted grin on his lips. She trembled, paled under his gaze and she pleaded for her life. She wished to live.
The boy had appeared then, kunai in hand, swooping down from the roofs, aiming to cause harm to the man.
It all happened so fast, the girl could hardly comprehend it. One moment the man stood, the next his head was severed from his body. It had rolled towards her then, stopping by her feet and she found herself unable to look away, meeting the dead eyes of what had once been a threat to her existence.
He had approached her then, kicking the head aside with little care, his face stained with blood and his hands desiring to stain others just as he was.
"Are you alright?" he had asked then and the girl had met his eyes, dark and enigmatic, with her wide and frightened ones.
"Thank you for saving me," she had said, voice quivering and heart uncertain.
She did not realize what a mercy the man would have granted her, had she fallen by his hand.
Because to the boy… once was not enough.
The fourth time they met, she disappeared, never to be found again.
It had been dark. A full moon, just like then. He remembered, the man who had almost robbed him of her. It made his chest hurt, anger and hatred surging forth like a river of emotions, threatening to spill. Her voice had been heavenly then. It was soft, not scratchy like her apologies – not practiced from overuse – or hard like when she was angry.
He wanted to hear it again. Over and over and over and over and over and over and over-
So he took her that night. Stole her out of her home, her bed, and brought her to a safer place. It was dark there, cold and damp, but it was safe. It was his.
He kept her there, even though she screamed. Even though she cried. Even though she called for help.
She just didn't understand it yet. But he would make her understand. He'd keep her safe and she would speak to him in that soft voice and sing to him and they would be fine.
He was happy then, knowing he could see her whenever he wanted.
Because once was never enough.
The fifth time they met, he learnt her name and he cherished it.
When she had awoken again, for a moment she had been lost in bliss, surrounded by warmth, before she opened her eyes to the truth. He was holding her then, enveloping her in his cloak and she wanted to cry. Wanted to cry and scream because it smelled like him and only himhimhim and not her.
She had remained still then, hands bound and uncomfortable, wishing to be someplace else. Praying for salvation, but none came.
Hours might have passed, she did not know. Time seemingly did not exist in that place, a perpetual darkness reigning over it, suffocating her.
He awoke then, his even breaths replaced by deeper ones. She had kept her eyes closed then, pretending to sleep. He had buried his face in her neck, and she couldn't stop herself from shuddering when he seemed to inhale her scent. Her eyes had opened to meet his dark ones and he had such a soft, soft smile on his lips that she thought he was someone else for a moment.
He'd asked her name and she had been surprised, angered even, that he had stolen her away, locked her up, and yet did not even know her name. In a bout of anger, she had spat out the words, her eyes narrowed and her teeth gritted.
"My name is Ophelia."
He smiled.
She could not bring herself to sleep even after he had left that place. She knew now.
Once was never enough.
The sixth time they met, she cried and he struck her for the first time.
Her tears would not stop. He held her, stroked her cheek and whispered sweet nothings into her ear, but she was not consolable. She continued to cry and he came to the conclusion that he did not like it when she cried. It gave him a headache, grated his ears and made a myriad of uncomfortable feelings well up within his chest.
"Please stop crying," he asked her then, no, ordered, but she would not quiet down.
He was tired, did she not see? He wished to rest with her, as he'd grown so fond of doing, but how could he sleep when she was so noisy.
As her wails grew louder, his patience wore thin.
The sound of a slap had echoed through the room and she had been stunned. In her eyes shone a new emotion he was not certain of, but she had finally gone silent. He took hold of her then, pulling her close to him and letting out a sigh.
His world was calm again.
And every time it would shiver and shake, cry and yell, he would calm it again.
Because once was never enough.
The seventh time they met, he took it from her.
She wept in silence, pulling the cloak tighter around herself, all the while wishing it did not smell of him. She felt wrong, oh so wrong, and dirtied as she remained on the floor. Her hands were no longer tied, but that had not stopped him. She had tried, Kami knew she had tried, but he was powerful and she was not.
He had taken it from her. Taken it against her will, and she cried for what she had lost. With it, a part of herself seemed to have been lost as well, and she wept for that too.
He had said she was important. That she was precious to him.
But he hadn't stopped. She told him no, protested with all her heart, and he ignored her pleas and forced himself onto her.
She had held onto hope for so long, believing there was a chance he would have a sudden bout of conscience. That he would let her go so she could run and forget.
Hearing the sound of his boots approaching, she wrapped the cloak tighter around herself.
Her shackles were no longer wrapped around her wrists, but she was still a prisoner.
And she knew, he would do with her as he wanted again and again.
Because OnCe WaS nOt EnOuGh.
The eighth time they met, she had dyed herself red.
He was furious. He was absolutely livid. She wasn't moving, no matter how he yelled, no matter how many times he struck her face with his palm or attempted to shake her awake.
Her hands were so very red and her skin was a pearly white. She was withering away in his arms and he found himself unsure of what to do. He did not know any healing jutsu. So he did what he could.
He bandaged her wounds, laid her down, and he tied her arms and legs apart.
She would live. He would make certain of it. And he would bring what he needed next time, to ensure she could never do something like this again.
He didn't want to clip her wings, but she left him no choice.
"I'll keep you safe, even from yourself."
He did not leave until her breathing evened out and her soft skin grew warm again, knowing he would not be able to bear losing her.
Because once… was never enough.
The ninth time they met, her only weapon was taken away.
She was screaming. Oh, Kami, it hurt so much, and he wouldn't let her move. He held her down and the ropes around her limbs burned her wrists as she struggled.
He'd started with her feet. First the left one, and then the right one. One toe at a time, he used the pliers and he took hold and pulled. She should've known. Should've expected him to, but she had hoped that there would be more time. That she could end it.
But he had been ready.
Her world flashed white as another wave of pain hit her and she screamed. He would murmur comforting words, but to her they sounded more like the whispers of a demon.
He was done with her right hand now, bandaging her abused fingers with a seemingly gentle care that seemed impossible of him. He undid the ropes around her itching wrist, and then he held her hand for a moment, silently staring at it before he softly planted a kiss on her pointer finger.
She let out a whimper, her fingers aching, as he repeated the process for each finger, seemingly lost in his own world.
Her hands were tied up once more, and this time he gagged her. Her weapons had all been robbed from her.
When he left, there wasn't a single nail left on that floor, and the bloodstains were wiped away.
The girl wished she could disappear too. But he would never allow it.
Once was never enough.
The tenth time they met, he gave her akiss and she tasted his insanity.
He knew all there was to know of her body. But he had yet to taste all there was to her. She was docile the night he decided to change that, pacified and soothed by the tale he spun. Moments passed and then they kissed.
It was a reward, not just for him, but for her as well. A reward for her good behavior as of late, he mused. His breath mingled with hers and he pulled her closer. She didn't struggle and so their kiss grew deeper.
A moment later his tongue tasted iron and their lips were dyed red.
He was not deterred. It made not a difference to him. He would share his everything with her, just as she shared everything with him.
When he separated from her, her breaths were heavy and she spoke in that soft voice of hers once more.
"Why are you doing this..?"
He answered her with another kiss, mindless of the blood running down his chin.
Because once was never enough.
The eleventh time they met, she sung herself a lullaby and slept in his arms.
It hurt to speak, her voice rough and scratchy from lack of use, but she sung. The lyrics were all made up words and the melody kept changing, but she continued singing, ignoring the time surely ticking by.
He held her the entire time, but she was in her own world. She knew it would not change anything and that it was only a temporary escape, but it lifted her spirits, even if just a little. He only took the bindings and the gag off when he was present, and while his presence offered her no comfort, the freedom to move and speak provided respite from the madness that slowly accumulated within her mind when she was alone.
Eventually her eyes grew heavy, but he had things to do and so he had stood up to leave. She had done something then, which truly sealed her fate, without thinking her actions through.
Grabbing onto his cloak, she had whispered to him a single request. It made his world, and threatened to completely destroy hers.
"Please don't go, I don't want to sleep all alone…"
And he stayed that night. And the next, and the night after that too.
Be ca us eo nc ew as ne ve re no ug h-
The twelfth time they met, he said he loved her and he was the only one left.
People were suspicious. There were searches being made, teams of shinobi scouting and seeking. They hadn't found her yet, but part of him worried. Part of him feared. He wouldn't allow them to find her, but robbing them of their lives without being discovered was not quite as easy. His father was hesitant to lay blame, lacking evidence of just what had happened to the girl, but Menma knew his father suspected kidnapping.
So he held her close. He held her close and he listened to her frantic heartbeats. His worry was contagious, as his own heartbeat mirrored hers, but several minutes in silence and his breathing slowed.
As did hers, but not before she asked him a question.
"W-what's wrong..?"
Her hair smelled divine, he noticed then, burying his face in it. He always found her scent soothing.
"I love you, Ophelia," he had muttered then, and her heart had sped up and her eyes had widened and he was the only one – the others were all gonegonegone. He'd chanted it over and over until he lost count of how many times he'd said it and she had remained silent throughout it all, but he did not mind.
She didn't need to say the words. He knew what she felt – though he truly didn't, not really – and did not believe it had to be said.
But he would tell her time and time again.
Because once was never enough.
The thirteenth time they met, she had fallen ill.
Her palms were sweaty, no matter how many time she tried to wipe them dry. Her hair was pasted to her face and neck and she couldn't help but feel so uncomfortably hot even though she was shivering from the cold.
Her fingers were infected, she realized. Or perhaps her toes. She couldn't tell anymore. her whole body aching and numb at the same time. She wanted to call out to him, convince him to take her to a doctor, but she realized she didn't know his name.
It had all happened gradually, but then all of a sudden she'd woken up in excruciating pain one morning. Or was it night? Evening? Afternoon? She didn't know, but she could only hope he'd come soon.
She didn't want to die a painfully slow death like this.
She didn't really want to die at all. Not truly.
Several hours later, when she heard the sound of his boots once more, she shuffled closer to the door despite her bindings.
He had taken her to another room then, with a warm bed and soft, so soft, pillows. She couldn't remember much of what had happened next, but when her mind cleared, her hands and feet were bandaged with fresh, clean bandages and her fingers smelled of something strong.
She couldn't put a name to the smell, but it comforted her.
He didn't stay with her that night, but she knew he'd be back to check her bandages tomorrow.
"After all… once… once is never enough, is it..?"
The fourteenth time they met, they weren't alone.
They were getting closer, he realized, an uneasy emotion settling within his gut. His father was not a complete idiot after all, it seemed. He sighed but knew there was ultimately little he could do. He couldn't try to direct anyone away without appearing suspicious and he couldn't convince his father to stop the search either, for the very same reason.
He knew it was becoming riskier, and so his visits to her had lessened lately, but he needed to see her. He left her food and water each time, so he knew she wouldn't starve or dehydrate, but he worried that she might hurt herself again. She shouldn't be able to do much, as he made sure to remove her nails each time they grew out again, but he worried she'd bite her tongue.
He gave her more and more freedom, but with it came risks.
He knew she wasn't to blame, that her behavior was simply a result of what society had imposed upon her. Or perhaps it was her way of gaining his attention? He wasn't sure, but he did not blame her.
He'd simply have to protect her better.
So he went to see her again, oblivious to the figure shadowing him part of the way, too distracted by the knowledge that he would get to see her again.
Once was… not enough.
The fifteenth time they met, the prisoner was him and salvation was granted.
Someone was holding her. It wasn't him, didn't smell like him, was too bright, too cold. They smelled of dirt and wet dog. She didn't consider it a pleasant smell, but it was comforting all the same. It was different from him. Her breaths grew even, even as the figure holding her began moving.
She was tired, so incredibly tired, but she forced her eyes open and met the gaze of a lone dark one. There was a glint of curiosity in his eyes, she noticed, but also concern. A sudden shiver racked her body and the man holding her quickly adjusted his grip to avoid dropping her. His steps slowed down, but she let out a small cough, trying to find her voice.
"I want… to see… the sky… please," she had pleaded softly to the man, who in turn had sent her a small nod before resuming his walk.
The moment they reached the outside, it was as if a weight was lifted from her chest. Suddenly she could breathe easier, fear wasn't weighing her down anymore and the knots in her gut loosened. She wasn't sure what was going on, but she was grateful to the man holding her.
Moments passed by, her silently watching the stars dotted across the night sky, and the man waiting for her to speak.
"Where is he?" she had asked slowly, as if fearing that merely speaking of him would bring him there.
"Far away from here. He won't be able to hurt you anymore."
But he's already hurt me far too much, she wanted to say.
I've lost so much of myself already, is there even a point?
The tears began spilling then. And they would not stop for a long time.
Once had never been enough for him, and she wasn't sure if it was enough for her either anymore.
The last time they met, their story ended.
It had been quick, much like their relationship.
A fitting end, some might agree, to the twisted story they had written together.
No one was really sure how he had escaped, or even why he hadn't been executed in the first place.
But then, no one truly cared very much, did they?
The kunai had torn through her flesh easily and she had not enough time to even scream before they were gone.
They found them below the cliffs, their bodies battered and bruised.
They were falling, but she wasn't frightened. He had embraced her, and she swore that his eyes had glinted with unshed tears.
There was no one to mourn her and his parents were overtaken by shame.
Part of her wondered, had things been different if she had been stronger?
Or had she been destined to this fate since the day she was born?
"What is your name?"
"Uzumaki… Menma."
She smiled.
My sister enjoys dark stories, and this is my attempt at one such story. Well, oneshot, more-so, but I digress. Despite the dark themes, I do hope you enjoyed reading this story. Ophelia was actually named by my sister (Though I didn't exactly tell her what exactly this fic would entail, haha…) and designed by me, though her appearance isn't really a big part of this…
While I'm used to writing angst, it was a bit of a challenge to write this, as it has a lot of different themes in it (Or at least, I tried to include a lot of themes into it) and I tried something a little different with how the whole flow proceeded throughout the stories.
I can't really think of what else to say… but anyway, thank you for reading!