In Death
By dj
Disclaimers: Same as chapt 1.
Chapter 5
The thick viscous liquid formed a perfect drop at the tip of the strand of hair. Black and red, such a lovely and delicious combination. Lingering only momentarily, it continued its descent to the floor, shattering the perfect droplet into a mini-fireworks display on the white marble, finally disappearing in the sea of red that had already collected around the body. She had been dead for 20 minutes, yet the blood was still flowing, and still so rich. This was a strong one. She had been exceptionally hard to break. But Muraki did not end her life till she gave her assent. It would not be polite not to. She had been so beautiful, so full of life. Such a spirited doll, trying valiantly to break free from the strings tying her to her master. She would never succeed of course, but Muraki delighted in educating rebellious dolls on the subject of obedience.
Nevertheless, she was now but another body. An empty shall that used to possess beauty and life. Once the blood dripped dry, she would truly be nothing. All traces of her ever having existed would fade away and she would be forgotten with the passing of time. Contrary to common belief, death is the end. However beautiful a shell, without the essence of life, it would only be a pretty ornament that would rot away in time. Few would spare it a second glance. There were just too many pretty things in this world, ones that were; ones that are; and ones that will be.
Muraki was now such an ornament. Though his body still lived, his purpose was gone. No longer did he have any semblance of an essence, nothing pleasured him anymore. Not even his most recent kill. In the past, there was satisfaction after each kill, especially if the doll was difficult to tame. For each kill meant he was a step closer to his goal. Now, however, there was no satisfaction. No matter how many lives he ended, and how artfully he did it, he did not feel an ounce of fulfillment when it ended. There was no way to assure himself that he was truly alive. How alive can one get with all goals and purpose disappeared in front of his very own eyes, when he was unable to stop it though he had been right there.
He used to look upon the people of this world as worthless, living for the sheer sake of existing. He had since become one of them, the very type of person he despised. Despite his denials and constant efforts to rekindle the part of himself that had died that fateful day in Kyoto, when the very last smithereens of him had been destroyed in that black fire. It had been futile.
But he will not end his own life.
Suicide was for people who did not have the courage to face up to reality. Muraki knew reality. He also accepted reality. Saki was gone forever, but not by his hand. And nothing he did would ever bring him back. He could accept it. But it did not mean it had no impact on him.
He would not kill himself, but neither could he live on like this.
Muraki thought back to the onmyouji he had been fighting in the afternoon. Those beautiful eyes of green and gold that seemed to hold so much sadness. Almost as much as Tsuzuki's eyes did. He did not know those eyes, but he knew the magic they beheld.
Sumeragi.
No. There would be no suicide. But he could stir up trouble so big that Japan, or even the world, would send their best to stop him. Then he could die properly in battle, with purpose. And where better to start with than the man who controls both sides of onmyoujitsu in all of Japan?
The mismatched orbs would be very interesting to destroy, he knew. And the chaos that would reign after the utter destruction of the magical balance in Japan would be even more enticing. He would be hunted of course, being the cause of it all. But he would embrace the ensuing battle. Maybe he would be killed. Maybe his killer would even be Tsuzuki. The thought put a smile on his face.
Another death upon the one who no longer wanted to kill.
Muraki had a new purpose in life. Death. This would be fun.
Rejuvenated, Muraki stood up and left the ornate ancient cathedral, leaving the blood-drenched corpse to lie prostrate on the holy white marble floor. Sinful red on pristine white.
He had always had such a taste for ironies.
A/N: Believe it ot not, he's my fave charac in YnM...