Revenge by Blood
Disclaimer: I may not own Fushigi Yuugi but Star Wolf and I own the sadistic plot of this fanfic. Enjoy!
Part 3:
Nuriko sat there, in the near darkness, staring at the pitcher. He was trying to figure out what was worse, starving and dehydrating to death, or drinking Hotohori's blood.
"Well, if I drink this, I'll always have his essence with me," he said to the pitcher.
Nuriko gave up and reached towards the pitcher, his hand shaking. By the time he got it an inch off the ground he had to use his other hand to steady it or it was going to spill all over him instead.
Nuriko made an audible gulp before raising the pitcher to his lips, a hopless effort to settle his stomach. He felt it lurch as the luke-warm liquid filled his mouth and he swallowed a mouth full of it. He would've thrown up, if he had had anything in his stomach, or the strength to actually do it.
Ten minutes later he sat down the pitcher, and to his utter disgust, burped as he set it down. He didn't know what was worse, being hungry, or being so nauseous that ir felt as if all his internal organs had turned to mush. Well, there was no point in thinking about that now, he had already done it.
Once he had sat down as far away from the empty pitcher as he could, the light under the door began to grow, and that silhoutte from days...was it days?...before openned the door. He could sense the malicious smile on it's face.
"Aww, you're such a good boy, Nuriko. I see you finally came to your senses. And now I guess I have to keep my promise," said the figure as it reached behind it's back for something. "I have to set you free."
Nuriko knew that the long, thin silhoutte he saw now was none other than a sword, and it appeared to be Hotohori's at that. Nuriko faced her, his eyes open, accepting his death, as the blade met his neck, severing his head from his body, and cutting his braid at its base.
Miaka sadistic laugh carried thoughout the halls of Hong-nan once again, and the remaining seishi gripped their hearts. They had just lost another one. Chichiri and Tasuki looked at each other at the same time, they had a sickening feeling that they were next.
* * *
Miaka slung the sword over her shoulder and was actually singing as she walked down the corridors of the palace of Hong-nan.
"Chichiri," she sang their names as well. "Tasuki, come here, I need you to do something for me."
Hesitantly, both of them approached the doorway that led to the hall where Miaka was waiting for them. She was just sheathing the sword when they came into sight.
"Ah, there you are! Oh, and I almost forgot, bring Chiriko too, I need his help with something."
Being closer to the room they just left, Chichiri stuck his head in through the doorway and glanced at Chiriko. He sighed, worriedly, as he got up to join the two seishi waiting in the hall.
Miaka had started walking down the hallway towards the side entrance, completely ignoring the shrine to Suzaku they passed out their way out, the three seishi stopping to at least bow before they rushed to catch up with Miaka.
"Come on, Chiriko!" she called behind her as the turned her head a bit to see the three, I want you up here with me. She held out her hand for him to grasp, the other staying awfully close to her belt. Tasuki and Chichiri glannced at each other from the corners of their eyes. Something was definately wrong.
She stopped as the path broke into a small field next to a rushing river. The shin high grass bending slightly to the breeze and reflecting the sunlight as it did so, gave the plain the appearance of an ocean, the wild flowers like the small sprays the waves gave off. It was so quite, so serene, the light sound of the rushing water, the quite, yet harmonic bird song. Miaka smiled. It was the perfect place.
With a quick flick of her wrist the dagger came free from her belt and with just a little added speed stopped at Chiriko's throat. Miaka ginned at Chichiri and Tasuki as they gave worried looks to Chiriko.
"Oh, don't worry, he'll be fine," said Miaka, still grinning. "As long as one of you dies."
Tasuki and Chichiri looked at each other, and then Miaka, their puzzlement clearly written on their faces.
"Don't you get it, you idiots, I want you to fight to the death, and one step closer," she edge the blade until it was against Chiriko's neck. "And this little one will die instead of one of you...So, take your pick. Who do you want to die?" Miaka looked at them with a questioning look, while they looked at each other.
Tasuki sighed, moved to the side a bit and took up a fighting stance, his hand resting on his tessen. Chichiri did the same, but held his staff in front of him instead. Miaka smiled, she couldn't wait, tha anticipation was eating her alive and was helping to feed her recent spell of insanity.
Tasuki made the first move, he ripped his tessen out of its sheath and commanded its fire at Chichiri. Chichiri blocked it with a simple spell, the fire contoring to the bubble that had formed around him, not even searing one hair of his sky blue mohawk bangs.
Seeing the problem with this, Tasuki decided to make this more of a physical fight and lunged at Chichiri, ready to hit him over the head with the metal fan he commanded, but was met halfways with the butt of Chichiri's staff and was pushed backwards toward the water's edge. Tasuki barely gained his footing in time, looking behind him to see his heels resting on the edge of the plain, and the water rushing swiftly and ferociously below him.
He had barely enough time to utter "Rekka Shin'en!" before a blur of blue and white approached him and he nearly missed parrying Chichiri's staff with his tessen. But Chichiri was quicker and sent a small ball of energy at Tasuki's solar plexus, causing him to loose his balance, as well as his breath, and topple backwards. He staggered, trying to steady himself, but he made the mistake of stepping backwards in the process. Backwards into air, and not grass. He mumbled a curse as he felt himself fall backwards and the flesh colored blur just missed him as the icey waters stole what was left of his breath away.
Tasuki managed to float long enough above water to take a glance at the fighting grounds, and not seeing Chichiri, he let out a sob, thinking that he had killed him. I Tasuki thought right before his head hit a rock and he lost all consciouness, pulled under the surface by the strong undertow of the river. He couldn't feel the water as it slowly filled his lungs with each breath he took. Or feel his heart as it slowly stopped. And then his soul went to join the others, Chichiri's not far behind.
Chichiri had tried desperately to grab Tasuki as his friend slipped out of reach, but he had tripped and then fell, his fingers just barely missing Tasuki's jacket. Chichiri's face hit the ground and there was an audible "thump" as his body slammed into the ground as well. Chichiri thought as he ripped his mask off and flung it to the side, climbed to his feet, and dove towards the plain's edge. By the time he looked down into the white waters of the river below, Tasuki was gone, carried along down river by the under current. he thought, dropping his head in defeat and shame. "Tasuki..." he mumbled. Chiriko heard his whisper and tears welled up in his eyes.
Miaka looked at Chichiri with pity, the same pity of a driver who knows that the only way to help a dog fatally injured by a car is to hit it again, to put it out of its misery. She reached down and fumbled around in her boot for a bit until her hand came out holding a small, six inch long, sheathed dagger.
"Here," she said, flinging it at Chichiri, the dagger stopping a few inches from his feet. "If you want, you can slit your wrists. It's not like you're going to live long, anyway."
Chichiri wiped the tears from his eyes and looked at Miaka with a new hatred burning in his eyes. He picked up the dagger, flung it's sheath aside, and charged at Miaka.
She merely looked at him and smiled. When he was readying himself to lunge at her, she took the opportunity to prepare for his attack. She already knew what his moves were going to be. He was just about near enough to slice into her neck when she grabbed his arm and twisted it behind him. In the same instant she removed the dagger from Chiriko's neck and thrust it into Chichiri's good eye. When Chichiri went to clutch at the new deformity in his face, Miaka dropped the dagger and pulled out Hotohori's sword. Before Chichiri could react the sharp metal, already tinged with the blood of his fellow seishi, was piercing his body and penetrating the other side.
Miaka grinned as the blood trickled down the sword and over her already bloddied hands. She twisted the sword, causing the blood to spurt out of the wound as well as flow down the once glistening metal. She reveled in the feeling of the warm blood flowing over her hands and then pulled the sword out. After all, what was the purpose now? He was nearly dead.
Chichiri fell face first onto the ground, grasping the open wound that was his stomach. Then his arm suddenly went limp and his blood began to cover the ground beneath him, turning the once sea-green grass a dark shade of crimson. Before he was completely dead, Miaka bent down, pushed Chichiri's scarlet bangs out of the way, and then gently kissed him on the cheek.
"Sayoonara," she whsipered in his ear. "Ah, he wasn't that bad," she said as she kicked him in the stomach. "What a waste, oh well."
Chiriko stared at the whole scene in shock and his knees started trembling. "Come on," Miaka said as she grabbed him by the pony tail and pulled him towards the palace. Miaka grabbed Chiroko's hand with one of her bloody own, then bent down to pick up the dagger she had given Chichiri, as well as the one she had threatened Chiriko with. "We have work to do." Chiriko's eyes went blank and he paled.
Her grin broadened as she walked back towards the palace, wiping her hands on her already blood soaked shirt. "Mitsukake! I need your hand!"
***
Disclaimer: I may not own Fushigi Yuugi but Star Wolf and I own the sadistic plot of this fanfic. Enjoy!
Part 3:
Nuriko sat there, in the near darkness, staring at the pitcher. He was trying to figure out what was worse, starving and dehydrating to death, or drinking Hotohori's blood.
"Well, if I drink this, I'll always have his essence with me," he said to the pitcher.
Nuriko gave up and reached towards the pitcher, his hand shaking. By the time he got it an inch off the ground he had to use his other hand to steady it or it was going to spill all over him instead.
Nuriko made an audible gulp before raising the pitcher to his lips, a hopless effort to settle his stomach. He felt it lurch as the luke-warm liquid filled his mouth and he swallowed a mouth full of it. He would've thrown up, if he had had anything in his stomach, or the strength to actually do it.
Ten minutes later he sat down the pitcher, and to his utter disgust, burped as he set it down. He didn't know what was worse, being hungry, or being so nauseous that ir felt as if all his internal organs had turned to mush. Well, there was no point in thinking about that now, he had already done it.
Once he had sat down as far away from the empty pitcher as he could, the light under the door began to grow, and that silhoutte from days...was it days?...before openned the door. He could sense the malicious smile on it's face.
"Aww, you're such a good boy, Nuriko. I see you finally came to your senses. And now I guess I have to keep my promise," said the figure as it reached behind it's back for something. "I have to set you free."
Nuriko knew that the long, thin silhoutte he saw now was none other than a sword, and it appeared to be Hotohori's at that. Nuriko faced her, his eyes open, accepting his death, as the blade met his neck, severing his head from his body, and cutting his braid at its base.
Miaka sadistic laugh carried thoughout the halls of Hong-nan once again, and the remaining seishi gripped their hearts. They had just lost another one. Chichiri and Tasuki looked at each other at the same time, they had a sickening feeling that they were next.
* * *
Miaka slung the sword over her shoulder and was actually singing as she walked down the corridors of the palace of Hong-nan.
"Chichiri," she sang their names as well. "Tasuki, come here, I need you to do something for me."
Hesitantly, both of them approached the doorway that led to the hall where Miaka was waiting for them. She was just sheathing the sword when they came into sight.
"Ah, there you are! Oh, and I almost forgot, bring Chiriko too, I need his help with something."
Being closer to the room they just left, Chichiri stuck his head in through the doorway and glanced at Chiriko. He sighed, worriedly, as he got up to join the two seishi waiting in the hall.
Miaka had started walking down the hallway towards the side entrance, completely ignoring the shrine to Suzaku they passed out their way out, the three seishi stopping to at least bow before they rushed to catch up with Miaka.
"Come on, Chiriko!" she called behind her as the turned her head a bit to see the three, I want you up here with me. She held out her hand for him to grasp, the other staying awfully close to her belt. Tasuki and Chichiri glannced at each other from the corners of their eyes. Something was definately wrong.
She stopped as the path broke into a small field next to a rushing river. The shin high grass bending slightly to the breeze and reflecting the sunlight as it did so, gave the plain the appearance of an ocean, the wild flowers like the small sprays the waves gave off. It was so quite, so serene, the light sound of the rushing water, the quite, yet harmonic bird song. Miaka smiled. It was the perfect place.
With a quick flick of her wrist the dagger came free from her belt and with just a little added speed stopped at Chiriko's throat. Miaka ginned at Chichiri and Tasuki as they gave worried looks to Chiriko.
"Oh, don't worry, he'll be fine," said Miaka, still grinning. "As long as one of you dies."
Tasuki and Chichiri looked at each other, and then Miaka, their puzzlement clearly written on their faces.
"Don't you get it, you idiots, I want you to fight to the death, and one step closer," she edge the blade until it was against Chiriko's neck. "And this little one will die instead of one of you...So, take your pick. Who do you want to die?" Miaka looked at them with a questioning look, while they looked at each other.
Tasuki sighed, moved to the side a bit and took up a fighting stance, his hand resting on his tessen. Chichiri did the same, but held his staff in front of him instead. Miaka smiled, she couldn't wait, tha anticipation was eating her alive and was helping to feed her recent spell of insanity.
Tasuki made the first move, he ripped his tessen out of its sheath and commanded its fire at Chichiri. Chichiri blocked it with a simple spell, the fire contoring to the bubble that had formed around him, not even searing one hair of his sky blue mohawk bangs.
Seeing the problem with this, Tasuki decided to make this more of a physical fight and lunged at Chichiri, ready to hit him over the head with the metal fan he commanded, but was met halfways with the butt of Chichiri's staff and was pushed backwards toward the water's edge. Tasuki barely gained his footing in time, looking behind him to see his heels resting on the edge of the plain, and the water rushing swiftly and ferociously below him.
He had barely enough time to utter "Rekka Shin'en!" before a blur of blue and white approached him and he nearly missed parrying Chichiri's staff with his tessen. But Chichiri was quicker and sent a small ball of energy at Tasuki's solar plexus, causing him to loose his balance, as well as his breath, and topple backwards. He staggered, trying to steady himself, but he made the mistake of stepping backwards in the process. Backwards into air, and not grass. He mumbled a curse as he felt himself fall backwards and the flesh colored blur just missed him as the icey waters stole what was left of his breath away.
Tasuki managed to float long enough above water to take a glance at the fighting grounds, and not seeing Chichiri, he let out a sob, thinking that he had killed him. I Tasuki thought right before his head hit a rock and he lost all consciouness, pulled under the surface by the strong undertow of the river. He couldn't feel the water as it slowly filled his lungs with each breath he took. Or feel his heart as it slowly stopped. And then his soul went to join the others, Chichiri's not far behind.
Chichiri had tried desperately to grab Tasuki as his friend slipped out of reach, but he had tripped and then fell, his fingers just barely missing Tasuki's jacket. Chichiri's face hit the ground and there was an audible "thump" as his body slammed into the ground as well. Chichiri thought as he ripped his mask off and flung it to the side, climbed to his feet, and dove towards the plain's edge. By the time he looked down into the white waters of the river below, Tasuki was gone, carried along down river by the under current. he thought, dropping his head in defeat and shame. "Tasuki..." he mumbled. Chiriko heard his whisper and tears welled up in his eyes.
Miaka looked at Chichiri with pity, the same pity of a driver who knows that the only way to help a dog fatally injured by a car is to hit it again, to put it out of its misery. She reached down and fumbled around in her boot for a bit until her hand came out holding a small, six inch long, sheathed dagger.
"Here," she said, flinging it at Chichiri, the dagger stopping a few inches from his feet. "If you want, you can slit your wrists. It's not like you're going to live long, anyway."
Chichiri wiped the tears from his eyes and looked at Miaka with a new hatred burning in his eyes. He picked up the dagger, flung it's sheath aside, and charged at Miaka.
She merely looked at him and smiled. When he was readying himself to lunge at her, she took the opportunity to prepare for his attack. She already knew what his moves were going to be. He was just about near enough to slice into her neck when she grabbed his arm and twisted it behind him. In the same instant she removed the dagger from Chiriko's neck and thrust it into Chichiri's good eye. When Chichiri went to clutch at the new deformity in his face, Miaka dropped the dagger and pulled out Hotohori's sword. Before Chichiri could react the sharp metal, already tinged with the blood of his fellow seishi, was piercing his body and penetrating the other side.
Miaka grinned as the blood trickled down the sword and over her already bloddied hands. She twisted the sword, causing the blood to spurt out of the wound as well as flow down the once glistening metal. She reveled in the feeling of the warm blood flowing over her hands and then pulled the sword out. After all, what was the purpose now? He was nearly dead.
Chichiri fell face first onto the ground, grasping the open wound that was his stomach. Then his arm suddenly went limp and his blood began to cover the ground beneath him, turning the once sea-green grass a dark shade of crimson. Before he was completely dead, Miaka bent down, pushed Chichiri's scarlet bangs out of the way, and then gently kissed him on the cheek.
"Sayoonara," she whsipered in his ear. "Ah, he wasn't that bad," she said as she kicked him in the stomach. "What a waste, oh well."
Chiriko stared at the whole scene in shock and his knees started trembling. "Come on," Miaka said as she grabbed him by the pony tail and pulled him towards the palace. Miaka grabbed Chiroko's hand with one of her bloody own, then bent down to pick up the dagger she had given Chichiri, as well as the one she had threatened Chiriko with. "We have work to do." Chiriko's eyes went blank and he paled.
Her grin broadened as she walked back towards the palace, wiping her hands on her already blood soaked shirt. "Mitsukake! I need your hand!"
***