11 Years Later Chapter Two
It had finally happened. It took her until she was 17, but she'd finally confirmed that she could beat him in every way, and get back the spirit stones that held her brother's life. The man could always before destroy them, killing her brother, before she could stop him.
But now she could win.
She lounged back in the very plush chair, shaped like a big circular scoop. The girl wore red, a sure sign that blood would be spilled. She waited for him to come home. She anticipated it. Already, she'd shattered her restraints, instead of merely pretending to be held by them when he was around. It fooled him into thinking she did nothing while he was away. He was stupid. She trained to kill him while he was not around.
The wooden planks shivered a bit from the front of the large house. He was home. The heart already beating with the express purpose of slaying her slaver caught itself, pumped harder.
She intently watched the door handle, all other senses in tune with what was happening out there. Finally, the handle twisted and the door opened. He came in, handsome as ever despite his filthiness. With drunken eyes, he didn't note that she was free. He didn't note much of anything important.
She took a moment, to think, How far has he degenerated from what he could have been?
"I see you've kept up with the time, baby. Yup. Tonight's the night you play. I approve of you wearing that killing outfit I bought'cha. I still remember when I first introduced you to my area of expertise: blood," he finished his announcement of the date with a grisly memory she always resented.
But she was stunned. She hadn't cared at all about playing, and that it was tonight surprised her. But what the hell? Did it matter? Maybe it would be that much sweeter if she killed him in his crowning glory.
He moved to kiss her; she flashed away. In his inebriation, he didn't notice that the girl was improved in her movements.
I could take the spirit stones right now, she thought. But where does he keep them?
"Awww. What is it?" H e rubbed his grizzled chin in a bad mockery of thought. The man closed his bloodshot eyes. She almost hurled at the lingering stink of his breath. "Don't wanna celebrate? You never do. But soon I'll celebrate with you all night long, and there'll be nothing you can do about it then."
She stayed silent.
"Well, come on, let's go. Don't want to miss another opportunity do we?"
Her eyes relaxed and she said delicately, her expressions making her face mobile, "You don't really want Battousai to see you like this after all these years do you?"
"What're you talking about?" He was truly puzzled, and his expression revealed it.
She rolled her eyes. Bluntly, she said, "You're drunk, unshaven, foul mouthed, and kind of greasy."
His eyes lightened and he smiled, because he was in a good mood. "You're right. But you better be nicer. I still got those stones in my belt."
His belt? She kept pleasantness up, even though if he was as alert as he'd been 11 years ago, he'd have been suspicious. He undressed and went behind the bathing screen. And she was on his clothes the moment he was blind to her. In actuality, it was ludicrously easy to find the "secret" opening and pull them out. She pocketed them, then threw his belt back down on the floor.
"Come here and massage me, " he commanded.
"Wouldn't dream of it," she said in a tone that paid no attention to him. The girl was used to his frequent attempts to charm her, and dismissed all his actions regarding her like that from mind. Another thing she was accustomed to was him having no shame. She merely shrugged when he reemerged wondering where his kimono was, himself being currently quite naked.
"I don't know, " she said, not bothering to look up. She wasn't naive about naked men, or at least him, but neither was she fascinated.
"Fine. I'll go find one myself. Aren't you supposed to have feminine instincts to take care of households or something?"
"I play."
He came back a while later with only his black pants on. She could smell already that he'd brushed his teeth, and one disinterested glance could have told her he'd bothered to shave and do more than soak in water.
"Think you can handle him after I play?" She did look at him now, and was startled to see that clean, he was striking. Like he would have been years ago, if she had remembered him that way.
"What a pity, " she muttered, meaning that he had to turn out to be a has-been, or at least appear that way, and also that she felt obligated to kill him. Other than that...
She was numb to him.
He slapped her, reminding her that he wasn't what he had been, quite, but he could still hurt her. The split second before his hand touched her skin, she opted to let him have this little victory. If she was to kill him later that night, he must not know of her skills. Especially because his bath had sobered him somewhat..
"What do you happen to mean by that?" he snarled.
She let tears rise into her eyes, like so many times before, just to satisfy him and make him go away. "I don't know. I-I'm sorry."
"You know, sometimes I do think you've got the right side of our arguments." He waited a moment, then used a voice that promised more pain. Too much more, however, and she'd end it now. "Hn. Come here, bitch."
She debated to herself, then complied. His hand roughly grabbed around her tiny waist, and she waited to be thrown. But she was startled and horrified when he pulled her against him so hard she could feel every muscle in his torso.
"What do you think you are doing?" she asked in an almost bored tone. On the inside, she was panicking. The way he had her, the way she had let him have her, left her helpless.
Instead of answering her, he kissed her so hard her lips stung. Without any sort of encouragement, he thrust his tongue into her mouth.
She bucked and struggled to get away from him. He tightened his grasp all the more. She recoiled when she felt something against her abdomen, seriousness homing in on her. No, he wasn't only dirty looks and thoughts. There was actual strength he possessed that could carry out his wishes.
And finally, she wrenched her mouth away from his kiss. "No!"
The man merely secured her arms with one hand, and with another pulled her head back. He pressed his lips to her chest where the red cloth didn't cover her skin.
She writhed and writhed some more and tried to free her skin from his despicable flesh. They fought each other until she fell back, painfully striking the floor.
"All these years," he murmured. All the muscles in her body clamped up, and a barrage of memories stole her mind's focus, though her body animalistically struggled on.
Until she was 6 she had had her family. But where were they now? In eleven years she'd never heard of a search for her. The only thing she had to go by was the one old story of her brother's rescue going according to plan. That was all.
Before she could sort any of it out, the memories of the man stepped into the light of her mind's eye. In one perverted motion, the girl recognized all the kindness he'd ever shown. Deep down, she knew he was twisted and cared nothing for anyone but himself. But still...
She didn't want the memory, of those few minutes, or any others. She responded to him. Even hating him, the ripped clothes didn't matter, the ugly bruises didn't hurt. Just a little, she was happy to be wanted.
Soon, she shoved him away, and went to find more red garments that weren't quite as in tatters. He may have ben handsome, but he was still just a corpse she hadn't run through with a sword yet.
