Revenge by Blood
*Disclaimer: I don't own FY...the manga, not the Anime..This story is based on actual events that happened, but are horribly twisted to become...well..You'll see. Not for those with weak stomachs...Oh, and another warning...You know how me and my sis Star Wolf said to never let us write a fanfic together?...Well, this is one of them! Rated NC-17 for violence. Enjoy! ;)*
Part 2:
She didn't catch a glimpse of Hong-nan through the forest until two days later. She hadn't stopped to eat or drink, but had kept walking. Her legs were covered with sores, her flesh torn open by the long wispy branches of low plants that had dared to get in her way. She crushed them under her feet after they brushed against her. Whatever got in her way those two days never lived to tell the tale. Her eyes had gone dark, almost blood red, tinged with both insanity and blood lust. She wanted the others to feel the pain she did, to feel the burning hatred that was slowly filling up the deep hole in her heart. They needed to feel her pain, to live, or rather die, with the feelings that her soul now carried.
She pushed the last of the plants blocking her entrance to Hong-nan out of her way and stepped full into the blindling sunlight. She had walked amongst the cover of the canopy for the past two days, so the warm, cheery sun tore at her eyes, and she cursed at it for seeming so happy at a time where death and pain seemed to cloak her. Darkness. That's what she had on the inside, and what she wanted on the outside as well. Like Tamahome, that little string of sanity that remained in her mind had snapped, leaving her with the coldness of hate and the comfortingly gory thoughts of the mentally unstable.
She smiled to herself as she entered the city surrounding the palace and slowly walked up the steps, still shielding her burning eyes from the immense amount of sunlight. The doors were flung open before she even reached the top as the rest of the worried seishi poured out to comfort her. Chichiri had lost Tamahome's chi and knew that something horrible had happened to Miaka's, so he made sure that everyone was there to comfort her in this time of sorrow.
But they all stopped when they saw her, for the person who stood in front of them now looked nothing like the Miaka they knew, and felt nothing like her either. There was a long gash down her cheek and that same half of her face was covered in dried blood from the deep wound. There were other stains of blood on her clothes and dried blood covering her hands as well.
"Miaka? What happened?" Hotohori asked, running over to comfort her against the warnings his subconscious screamed at him. He took her shoulders in his hands and looked down at her with loving warm eyes. His hands jumped off her shoulders and he couldn't help but take a step back at the icy glare they met and the coldness of the voice that the once loving, innocent little girl now held.
"What ever do you mean? I'm perfectly fine Hotohori." Her voice chilled him and he couldn't stop the shiver that ran down his spine or he goosebumps that spread over his skin like a tsunami. Even her hands seemed cold as she patted his shoulder when she walked by. "Don't worry about me. Although, coould you do me a favor?"
"O-of course," Hotohori said, turning to look at the ice demon that now possessed Miaka.
"Meet me in my room in about twenty minutes. Oh, and Nuriko?" Her frigid eyes stared into one of her soon-to-be victim's. "Please, follow me." Nuriko nodded and followed Miaka down the main hall and off into some smaller ones that eventualy led to her room. In the process, Miaka slipped out her hidden boot-dagger and dipped it into the immobilization potion she had stolen from Nakago when she had visited Qu-Dong.
Once in her room she sat down on her bed with a sigh and motioned Nuriko to sit beside her. "You know, Nuriko." Miaka said, trying to sound warm again, keeping the ice out of her voice. After all, if she sounded too cold her prey wouldn't fall into the trap she was about to spring.
Nuriko looked at her and smiled. "What?"
Miaka edged closer to Nuriko and leaned her head on his shoulder. "I wanted to tell you this before, but I just wasn't sure if I really felt this way. Now that Tamahome is gone though, I know for sure that this is how I truly feel." Miaka lifted one of her hands and caressed Nuriko's cheek, then guided his face towards hers. "I love you," she whisered, when their lips where a mere inch from touching.
Before Nuriko could react, she closed the gap between them and their lips touched in a short, seemingly loving kiss...That is, until Miaka pulled out the dagger from her lap and jabbed it into Nuriko's stomach. His warm blood trickled over her fingers as the hilt of he poison tipped weapon met his skin. His cough and then sudden gasp for air made her retreat to where she had sat before. A little more blood on her hands didn't bother her. She was already covered in it and had started taking a liking to the color crimson anyways.
Nuriko hunched over in pain and tried to pull the dagger out of his gut, only to realize that he couldn't move, and could barely breath. He could see, and hear, but his body betrayed him as it went limp and he hit the floor with a sigh as the rest of the air was pushed from his lungs by the impact.
He heard Miaka's cold laughter and saw her feet and shins move towards him. He tried to scream as pain seared into his scalp and covered his head. The ground was moving farther away. Miaka was picking him up by his long braid. She dragged him onto the bed and then tied him to the head board, making sure that he could see the room in full. He tried asking her what she was doing, why she was hurting him like this, what had caused her to turn so violent, but his lips would not move and his voice box was frozen in place. It was an effort just to breath. He could blink, but he had a feeling that even that wasn't going to last very long.
Fear raced through his body as he saw Miaka unsheath a small knife from a strip of leather wrapped around her upper arm. His eyes widened with horror, but all that did was cause Miaka to laugh even harder.
"Oh, stop it you fool! I'm not going to kill you..yet...Now, how fun would that be. Just sit still...Wait...That's all you can do," Miaka grinned evilly to herself. "Anyways, close your eyes, that much you can do, and make sure not to open them. I'd hate to blind you. Then I couldn't have half as much fun as I want to." Nuriko closed his eyes, not sure what she was going to do, but when he left the small blade slice through the thin skin covering his eyes, he knew exactly what she was trying to do. First the left eye, and then the right, where opened, and none of them by his own doing.
When he trie closing them, he realize that it was impossible. All it caused was more of the salty, red tinged liquid to encircle his eye and burn it's way through the outer membrane. Everything was stained crimson and he could do nothing to make it go away.
"Aww," he heard Miaka say, when she sat in front of him and looked at his disappointedly. "Damn it...Even though you are forced to see, I bloodied your vision....Wait, I can change that!" She picke up a cup of water at her bedside table and threw it into his face. It soaked the front part of his hair, causing strands of purple to stick to the sides of his face, but it did wash out some of the blood as well. Miaka laughed in amusement as the crimson substance leaked out of his eyes. Nuriko was crying blood.
Miaka jumped a couple of inches at the sudden knocks that echoed into her room. Smiling, she bounced off the bed and ran over to the door, flinging it open to find a some-what worried Hotohori.
"Oh, Hotohori, I missed you so much!" she said with yet more false warmth as she flung herself into his arms. Hotohori blushed as he returned her embrace.
"Miaka, Chichiri said that..."
"Yes...Tamahome is dead...But that doesn't matter, because I still have you." Miaka slipped one of her hands down Hotohori's back and to his side. As he tightened his grip on her and closed his eyes to try to push back tears, Miaka seized his sword and tore herself out of his embrace. Even though she stood three feet away, that three feet was being taken up by an extremely deadly sword that's tip was resting on Hotohori's throat. "Fuck you, Hotohori! I never loved you, and would never be your wife!
Nuriko felt tears well up in her eyes. No! She's going to kill him! That sadistic little bitch! She tied me up here so I was forced to watch the last person I love die at my feet...And me being unable to stop his murder! No! Hotohori-sama!!! Nuriko struggled to yell at Miaka to stop, but all that came out of his mouth was a cough.
Hotohori looked at him and gasped. Blood stained tears still flowed down his cheeks, and more of the crimson liquid was slowly pouring out of his stomach and staining an ever-increasing area of his shirt. Nuriko realized that the only thing he COULD do know was cry, so that was what he did.
Miaka pushed the tip of the blade into Hotohori's neck and watched as a small trickle of blood flowed down from the cut. "Well, Nuriko. If you want me to spare this bastard's life, speak now...Or do you want his death staining your hands...No, your soul, crimson forever." Miaka's eyes flickered quickly to Nuriko's and then to the sword.
As much as he tried, all that Nuriko could make for sounds were soft groans and coughs. "Are you sure, Nuriko-chan? Speak now or forever hold your peace..." Miaka traced the blade down from his throat to his heart, leaving a light gash and a trail of blood behind it.
Damn you, Miaka! You know I can't say anything! Damn you! The tears flowing down his cheeks increased even more-so as he saw the pleading look in Hotohori's eyes. Gomen nasai, Hotohori-sama...I'm so sorry...I've lost the last one I loved and promised I'd protect...Please, forgive me...
"Aww...Too bad...Guess he doesn't care...Too bad, Hotohori...So long!" Miaka thrust the sword through Hotohori, right below his heart. All Nuriko could do was watch as the last person she loved slowly bled to the death on the floor in front of him. And it was all his fault.
"G-goodbye, Nuriko," Hotohori said through pained breaths. "I don't know why you didn't speak, but...I'm sorry...I-if I did something that...Well, I guess I deserve this...G-goodbye..." With that, Hotohori took in his last breath. His body shuddered violently and his breath was let out in a rush as his spirit left his body and the rest of his blood pooled on the floor beneath him. Miaka quickly rushed over to the limp body and took out a vile she had hidden in her cloak. She quickly slit one of his wrists and let the blood drip into the vile while there was still some left in his body.
Then she walked over to Nuriko, grinning madly, the vile of blood gripped tightly in her hand.
"You must be thirsty after this little ordeal, and have lost a bit of your own blood as well. Here, take this. I'm sure it'll help." Miaka forced Nuriko's mouth open and shoved the vile inbetween his teeth, lrtting the still-warm liquid fill his mouth, and then trickle down his throat. As much as he tried, he coldn't spit it out, and before his lunch could move up his throat he lapsed into unconsciousness due to lack of blood.
* * *
When Nuriko's eyes focused again, he was in a pitch black room aside from the small strip of light that shone from apparently under the door to this dark world. No sooner had his sight returned, but his sense of smell as well, and this place reeked of blood. He tried to move, only to find that his still weak limbs where tied to a pillar to some kind and that a struggle to release himself would only prove to waste precious energy.
A wave of fresh air and light brought his eyes to the opening that was before him, a dark silhouette of a young girl standing in the midst of it. "Well, I see you're finally awake. Good. Now, if you want to be released from his hell hole you'll drink all of what's in that pitcher before you." The figure tapped the picture in front of him with her foot. "You'll be able to move enough to drink it. It's all you have to eat or drink. I'll be checking on you every once in a while. Once it's empty, then I'll set you free."
The figure seemed to snicker before they turned around and slammed the door behind her. Nuriko moved towards the pitcher and took a strong whiff of what the pitcher held.
"Blood!" Nuriko breathed as he backed away from the pitcher. "No...It's...It's Hotohori's...It's Hotohori's blood...No..I-I can't..."
* * *
A/N: Well, what do you think? Told you it was going to be bloody!!! Hope you enjoyed it! More will be out as soon as I have more free time! Oh, and I had to up the rating to R because NC-17 fanfics are no longer allowed, but I don't think it's that bad. *shrugs* Oh well, hope you liked it anyways!!
*Disclaimer: I don't own FY...the manga, not the Anime..This story is based on actual events that happened, but are horribly twisted to become...well..You'll see. Not for those with weak stomachs...Oh, and another warning...You know how me and my sis Star Wolf said to never let us write a fanfic together?...Well, this is one of them! Rated NC-17 for violence. Enjoy! ;)*
Part 2:
She didn't catch a glimpse of Hong-nan through the forest until two days later. She hadn't stopped to eat or drink, but had kept walking. Her legs were covered with sores, her flesh torn open by the long wispy branches of low plants that had dared to get in her way. She crushed them under her feet after they brushed against her. Whatever got in her way those two days never lived to tell the tale. Her eyes had gone dark, almost blood red, tinged with both insanity and blood lust. She wanted the others to feel the pain she did, to feel the burning hatred that was slowly filling up the deep hole in her heart. They needed to feel her pain, to live, or rather die, with the feelings that her soul now carried.
She pushed the last of the plants blocking her entrance to Hong-nan out of her way and stepped full into the blindling sunlight. She had walked amongst the cover of the canopy for the past two days, so the warm, cheery sun tore at her eyes, and she cursed at it for seeming so happy at a time where death and pain seemed to cloak her. Darkness. That's what she had on the inside, and what she wanted on the outside as well. Like Tamahome, that little string of sanity that remained in her mind had snapped, leaving her with the coldness of hate and the comfortingly gory thoughts of the mentally unstable.
She smiled to herself as she entered the city surrounding the palace and slowly walked up the steps, still shielding her burning eyes from the immense amount of sunlight. The doors were flung open before she even reached the top as the rest of the worried seishi poured out to comfort her. Chichiri had lost Tamahome's chi and knew that something horrible had happened to Miaka's, so he made sure that everyone was there to comfort her in this time of sorrow.
But they all stopped when they saw her, for the person who stood in front of them now looked nothing like the Miaka they knew, and felt nothing like her either. There was a long gash down her cheek and that same half of her face was covered in dried blood from the deep wound. There were other stains of blood on her clothes and dried blood covering her hands as well.
"Miaka? What happened?" Hotohori asked, running over to comfort her against the warnings his subconscious screamed at him. He took her shoulders in his hands and looked down at her with loving warm eyes. His hands jumped off her shoulders and he couldn't help but take a step back at the icy glare they met and the coldness of the voice that the once loving, innocent little girl now held.
"What ever do you mean? I'm perfectly fine Hotohori." Her voice chilled him and he couldn't stop the shiver that ran down his spine or he goosebumps that spread over his skin like a tsunami. Even her hands seemed cold as she patted his shoulder when she walked by. "Don't worry about me. Although, coould you do me a favor?"
"O-of course," Hotohori said, turning to look at the ice demon that now possessed Miaka.
"Meet me in my room in about twenty minutes. Oh, and Nuriko?" Her frigid eyes stared into one of her soon-to-be victim's. "Please, follow me." Nuriko nodded and followed Miaka down the main hall and off into some smaller ones that eventualy led to her room. In the process, Miaka slipped out her hidden boot-dagger and dipped it into the immobilization potion she had stolen from Nakago when she had visited Qu-Dong.
Once in her room she sat down on her bed with a sigh and motioned Nuriko to sit beside her. "You know, Nuriko." Miaka said, trying to sound warm again, keeping the ice out of her voice. After all, if she sounded too cold her prey wouldn't fall into the trap she was about to spring.
Nuriko looked at her and smiled. "What?"
Miaka edged closer to Nuriko and leaned her head on his shoulder. "I wanted to tell you this before, but I just wasn't sure if I really felt this way. Now that Tamahome is gone though, I know for sure that this is how I truly feel." Miaka lifted one of her hands and caressed Nuriko's cheek, then guided his face towards hers. "I love you," she whisered, when their lips where a mere inch from touching.
Before Nuriko could react, she closed the gap between them and their lips touched in a short, seemingly loving kiss...That is, until Miaka pulled out the dagger from her lap and jabbed it into Nuriko's stomach. His warm blood trickled over her fingers as the hilt of he poison tipped weapon met his skin. His cough and then sudden gasp for air made her retreat to where she had sat before. A little more blood on her hands didn't bother her. She was already covered in it and had started taking a liking to the color crimson anyways.
Nuriko hunched over in pain and tried to pull the dagger out of his gut, only to realize that he couldn't move, and could barely breath. He could see, and hear, but his body betrayed him as it went limp and he hit the floor with a sigh as the rest of the air was pushed from his lungs by the impact.
He heard Miaka's cold laughter and saw her feet and shins move towards him. He tried to scream as pain seared into his scalp and covered his head. The ground was moving farther away. Miaka was picking him up by his long braid. She dragged him onto the bed and then tied him to the head board, making sure that he could see the room in full. He tried asking her what she was doing, why she was hurting him like this, what had caused her to turn so violent, but his lips would not move and his voice box was frozen in place. It was an effort just to breath. He could blink, but he had a feeling that even that wasn't going to last very long.
Fear raced through his body as he saw Miaka unsheath a small knife from a strip of leather wrapped around her upper arm. His eyes widened with horror, but all that did was cause Miaka to laugh even harder.
"Oh, stop it you fool! I'm not going to kill you..yet...Now, how fun would that be. Just sit still...Wait...That's all you can do," Miaka grinned evilly to herself. "Anyways, close your eyes, that much you can do, and make sure not to open them. I'd hate to blind you. Then I couldn't have half as much fun as I want to." Nuriko closed his eyes, not sure what she was going to do, but when he left the small blade slice through the thin skin covering his eyes, he knew exactly what she was trying to do. First the left eye, and then the right, where opened, and none of them by his own doing.
When he trie closing them, he realize that it was impossible. All it caused was more of the salty, red tinged liquid to encircle his eye and burn it's way through the outer membrane. Everything was stained crimson and he could do nothing to make it go away.
"Aww," he heard Miaka say, when she sat in front of him and looked at his disappointedly. "Damn it...Even though you are forced to see, I bloodied your vision....Wait, I can change that!" She picke up a cup of water at her bedside table and threw it into his face. It soaked the front part of his hair, causing strands of purple to stick to the sides of his face, but it did wash out some of the blood as well. Miaka laughed in amusement as the crimson substance leaked out of his eyes. Nuriko was crying blood.
Miaka jumped a couple of inches at the sudden knocks that echoed into her room. Smiling, she bounced off the bed and ran over to the door, flinging it open to find a some-what worried Hotohori.
"Oh, Hotohori, I missed you so much!" she said with yet more false warmth as she flung herself into his arms. Hotohori blushed as he returned her embrace.
"Miaka, Chichiri said that..."
"Yes...Tamahome is dead...But that doesn't matter, because I still have you." Miaka slipped one of her hands down Hotohori's back and to his side. As he tightened his grip on her and closed his eyes to try to push back tears, Miaka seized his sword and tore herself out of his embrace. Even though she stood three feet away, that three feet was being taken up by an extremely deadly sword that's tip was resting on Hotohori's throat. "Fuck you, Hotohori! I never loved you, and would never be your wife!
Nuriko felt tears well up in her eyes. No! She's going to kill him! That sadistic little bitch! She tied me up here so I was forced to watch the last person I love die at my feet...And me being unable to stop his murder! No! Hotohori-sama!!! Nuriko struggled to yell at Miaka to stop, but all that came out of his mouth was a cough.
Hotohori looked at him and gasped. Blood stained tears still flowed down his cheeks, and more of the crimson liquid was slowly pouring out of his stomach and staining an ever-increasing area of his shirt. Nuriko realized that the only thing he COULD do know was cry, so that was what he did.
Miaka pushed the tip of the blade into Hotohori's neck and watched as a small trickle of blood flowed down from the cut. "Well, Nuriko. If you want me to spare this bastard's life, speak now...Or do you want his death staining your hands...No, your soul, crimson forever." Miaka's eyes flickered quickly to Nuriko's and then to the sword.
As much as he tried, all that Nuriko could make for sounds were soft groans and coughs. "Are you sure, Nuriko-chan? Speak now or forever hold your peace..." Miaka traced the blade down from his throat to his heart, leaving a light gash and a trail of blood behind it.
Damn you, Miaka! You know I can't say anything! Damn you! The tears flowing down his cheeks increased even more-so as he saw the pleading look in Hotohori's eyes. Gomen nasai, Hotohori-sama...I'm so sorry...I've lost the last one I loved and promised I'd protect...Please, forgive me...
"Aww...Too bad...Guess he doesn't care...Too bad, Hotohori...So long!" Miaka thrust the sword through Hotohori, right below his heart. All Nuriko could do was watch as the last person she loved slowly bled to the death on the floor in front of him. And it was all his fault.
"G-goodbye, Nuriko," Hotohori said through pained breaths. "I don't know why you didn't speak, but...I'm sorry...I-if I did something that...Well, I guess I deserve this...G-goodbye..." With that, Hotohori took in his last breath. His body shuddered violently and his breath was let out in a rush as his spirit left his body and the rest of his blood pooled on the floor beneath him. Miaka quickly rushed over to the limp body and took out a vile she had hidden in her cloak. She quickly slit one of his wrists and let the blood drip into the vile while there was still some left in his body.
Then she walked over to Nuriko, grinning madly, the vile of blood gripped tightly in her hand.
"You must be thirsty after this little ordeal, and have lost a bit of your own blood as well. Here, take this. I'm sure it'll help." Miaka forced Nuriko's mouth open and shoved the vile inbetween his teeth, lrtting the still-warm liquid fill his mouth, and then trickle down his throat. As much as he tried, he coldn't spit it out, and before his lunch could move up his throat he lapsed into unconsciousness due to lack of blood.
* * *
When Nuriko's eyes focused again, he was in a pitch black room aside from the small strip of light that shone from apparently under the door to this dark world. No sooner had his sight returned, but his sense of smell as well, and this place reeked of blood. He tried to move, only to find that his still weak limbs where tied to a pillar to some kind and that a struggle to release himself would only prove to waste precious energy.
A wave of fresh air and light brought his eyes to the opening that was before him, a dark silhouette of a young girl standing in the midst of it. "Well, I see you're finally awake. Good. Now, if you want to be released from his hell hole you'll drink all of what's in that pitcher before you." The figure tapped the picture in front of him with her foot. "You'll be able to move enough to drink it. It's all you have to eat or drink. I'll be checking on you every once in a while. Once it's empty, then I'll set you free."
The figure seemed to snicker before they turned around and slammed the door behind her. Nuriko moved towards the pitcher and took a strong whiff of what the pitcher held.
"Blood!" Nuriko breathed as he backed away from the pitcher. "No...It's...It's Hotohori's...It's Hotohori's blood...No..I-I can't..."
* * *
A/N: Well, what do you think? Told you it was going to be bloody!!! Hope you enjoyed it! More will be out as soon as I have more free time! Oh, and I had to up the rating to R because NC-17 fanfics are no longer allowed, but I don't think it's that bad. *shrugs* Oh well, hope you liked it anyways!!