Summary: How many liters of blood had he washed his hands in? It all vanished with one little touch.
Date completed: July 2, 2013
There was a time when Tomoe hated touching his small Master. She was pure, sweet, unassuming and innocent—the exact opposite of him. It made him sick to think that the little human could control him, when she hardly had the strength to climb a tree. He missed the freedom that came from his life before the Mikage Shrine, but he often found himself scowling at the blood that stained his pale white hands.
They weren't literally stained—the little human woman had no idea how many beings he had sent to hell over his life and for that, he was thankful, but he couldn't help remembering the buzz he would get staring out over a battle field of carnage with only himself and Akura-ou left standing. He remembered the pride that would flood through his adolescent body, when he'd lick the metallic blood of his enemies from his fingers and instill pure horror in anyone that came across his bloody messes. It had been among the best feelings he'd ever experienced, but now, just thinking of them made him want to vomit.
He hated that feeling now. He didn't want to feel like that again. For some reason, he found himself wanting her to see him as only the noble Familiar he had become and not the whore-mongering executioner he had been a mere 500 years earlier.
He remembered the days when he was little older—wasn't as blood thirst, but had a whole new lust. He would cross Japan, passing through villages of humans and demons alike; bedding as many women he could get his claws on and dispatching any males stupid enough to try and stop him. He remembered the days that he would sit on a branch or rock near a village and watch it burn to the ground because someone had angered his partner, and thinking in passing that he could have stopped him if he had really wanted to. But he couldn't be bothered.
Then, he had been lazy. Now he found himself going out of the way to keep any and all blood away from his beautiful little human. He found himself letting himself get captured by people he would never let touch him in his glory days, just so his Master wouldn't see him spill blood.
Eventually, the day had come that his little Master had developed enough powers to purify an earth spider and demon-god's miasma. She had needed the help of the Kagura dance of course, but she had done it, shocking even him.
He had decided to stay with her after that— if she could shock him with power, then she was strong enough to tame him. That was his logic anyway. All he knew for sure was that he wanted to protect the human god. It wasn't a chore anymore.
When he kissed her under the excuse to re-seal their contract, fireworks had gone through him. His mind and body felt lighter and he felt stronger than he ever had. It sent shivers up his spine and down his tail. It was the most pleasurable, sensual experience he had ever had, and he never wanted it to end. Nanami was human though, and too quickly, needed air.
His entire body tingled from head to toe. He felt almost giddy as he looked into the love filled eyes of his Master, although he didn't show it. He glanced down at his hands after a moment and his eyes widened in shock. He couldn't see the blood stains that had been on his conscience for centuries. She had purified him in the best possible way.
Ironically, it had made him more greedy of her—he didn't want anyone touching her, because they would never be worthy of her powers. She was his special little god, his pure being that he felt the need to hide from the outside world and protect. He wanted her to live in a delusional little world were everything was perfect and right in the world.
They both knew it wasn't of course. She had seen firsthand how cruel the world could be, but that didn't mean he wouldn't try to repay her for the simple touch that washed his hands of his past.
Yay drabbles?