DISCLAIMER: I DON'T OWN INUYASHA OR DURARARA! ALL OF THE CHARACTERS BELONG TO THEIR RESPECTIVE OWNERS!
XXX
Chapter 6
"Alright Myoga, spill it; what the hell is so special about this Saika blade?" Inuyasha gave an uncertain glance towards the little girl who was trying (failing) not to listen to the conversation, her breathing shallow and her eyes flitting back and forth between the trees, almost as if a demon would pop out and attack the trio at any moment. Actually, now that she was looking around, she realized that the demon slayer and the monk—along with the two smaller demons—were gone, nowhere to be found. Frightened, she automatically grabbed the half-demon's hand, who glared but didn't say anything, much as he wanted. She was, after all, just a kid. Well, that, and the fact that Kagome would probably skin him alive if she heard he'd hurt a small, conscious human girl. He shivered and subconsciously placed his free hand against the sacred beads around his neck, fearful.
He so did not want that to happen.
Myoga quirked a brow at the pair's strange behavior, but decided to let the subject drop. "W-well, my Lord… Saika was an ancient demon that long ago terrorized the lands of Japan…"
Long ago, hundreds and hundreds of years before the birth of Inuyasha, when all the land was in turmoil, a young demon wandered the world, from village to village, destruction the farthest thing from her mind. She was a beautiful demon; with midnight black hair that reached the tops of her knees, the likes of which was coarse and shining, and two burnt auburn eyes that took in everything with a knowing smile, she was the talk of the towns, a real beauty among beauties. Men, from the lowliest pauper, to the highest prince, fell in love with this demon.
And she in love with them.
Every human, be it child, man, or woman… it didn't matter. She loved them all and cherished them very carefully. Like they were fine porcelain or a single daisy in the midst of winter… Regardless, though, they were all very careful about approaching her. She was, after all, a demon and their fear far outweighed their adoration, no matter how innocent she seemed. Thus, when she established herself at the edge of a village, though they didn't force her out or, worse yet, murder her, she was ostracized and kept at arm's length like she would attack at a moment's notice. Every night, she would cry herself to sleep, asking herself if it was wise staying by such a village. After all, what if they decided they didn't want her after all? What if they decided that she was better off dead, burned and buried under the lands? What if they abandoned her?
One night while she was crying, her voice ethereal and sweet, a man stumbled upon her, his graceless entry causing her sobs to cease, as though breathing would invoke the man's wrath on her. Seeing Saika, the beautiful, beautiful Saika crying alone, his own ruby eyes narrowed, nothing but kindness in their deep red depths. "What bothers you, little flower?"
Saika felt more tears spill from her eyes, but stubbornly wiped them away, her pugnacious nature getting the best of her. With a sad little smile on her face, she replied, "Nothing that should bother you, good traveler."
However, the man—or rather, General, as he wore robes of silk embedded with the emblem of the village's militia—chuckled slightly at her response, the sound causing gooseflesh to form on her skin. "Anything that bothers such a delicate creature is entirely my business, little flower. Now I will ask again—what troubles you?"
And it was like a floodgate had been broken. Without any fair warning, she had buried her head in her hands and told him her story—everything, from her birth to her childhood to the loneliness she was feeling now—and soon, her tears had dried like water in the desert, her auburn eyes slowly returning with a bounce of life. Finally, after she had recounted every last detail of her life, the man still had not said a word. She fretted that she may have bored the handsome traveler and he would leave, just like all the others.
However, after a moment where he appeared to be pondering deeply, he sighed, the sound startling the demon. He sounded almost… relieved. "Is that all? Though it would be irresponsible for me to say that what you are feeling is insignificant, I can tell you that everybody feels lonely sometimes. Nobody goes without feeling inferior, that's for certain, and what you are feeling is not anything new to humankind."
Ah, the misunderstanding. During her recounting, she had felt it necessary to omit the fact that she was actually a demon and that was why the villagers did not care for her. More tears threatened to spill. "A-actually… they have good reason for despising me. You see, I'm a… a…" Fresh tears started anew. "A demon!"
She expected him, as many others would, to look disgusted or afraid or simply uninterested, but after a moment of complete silence, he laughed. It wasn't a loud guffaw, but it was deeper than what she was expecting, and Saika felt as though she could drown in it. It resounded through her soul and something claimed that this was right, that he was hers.
The thought left her breathless.
Finally, after a moment of his quiet chuckling, he said, "A demon you say? Why, there's nothing wrong with that! In fact…" Now that she was paying attention, she realized that he was closer than ever before, their lips precious inches apart. "I believe that it makes you all the more alluring, little flower."
And that was only the start. Every day, he brought her a beautiful rose—rare, too, as it was one of the few white roses, the color vibrant and so very romantic—to her humble abode close to the village. The demon, never before having any kind of suitor, was easily taken in by this man's gentle demeanor and suave attitude. Amusingly enough, the surrounding trees and gardens began to promise a better future—the smell of white roses was all too common in the air, so many ails and illnesses alleviated, the townspeople drunk with wealth. The people slowly, but very surely, began warming up to the demon and it was with no time at all that the traveler and the demon's romance spread throughout the kingdom, their love for each other compared to a flower growing in the sun's embrace, growing taller and taller until the flower reached its precious love. It was enough to make many a- woman swoon at the thought.
That's why it was no surprise that, after months and months of courtship, the man asked for her hand in marriage. She, in her euphoria, could barely speak—all she could do was nod, but it was enough, for he smiled a smile that rivaled a thousand sunrises and placed a dainty ring on her finger. That night, they gave each other everything—body, mind, and soul—and their love rivaled the love of the Almighty Himself. Everything was perfect. Or rather, everything was going according to plan. Even so, the man continued to bring a white rose to her—without fail, every day.
One day, after the man had not visited her as he usually did, Saika grew increasingly worried. So worried, in fact, that she finally entered the village—something she hadn't done at all during her romantic time outside of it. She was intensely curious. What did this village look like? How many people were in it? Was it as beautiful as she imagined it in her dreams? Would it be, she blushed slightly at the thought, a place where we could raise our children? The thought sent a fresh wave of terror through her; what if she did have children and they didn't like her? What if they called her a monster, just like everyone else? She shook her head, for once having no answer, but more inclined to forget such depressing thoughts. She meant she hadn't even gotten married yet, for heaven's sake! She'd worry about children the eve of their wedding and not a day before—
Her inner musings were cut short as the loud, ominous rumble of a wooden gate slowly opened, the sight creepy and eerily suspicious. She wasn't afraid though; in fact, the strange opening hardly did anything to deter her from entering the village. She knew she could handle whatever was in there, be it demon, man, or woman. Or at least, so she thought.
"Hello? Anybody in there?" Strange. The village seemed deserted ,old tumbleweeds blowing gallantly in the wind, hardly a soul out in the perfect morning weather. Weren't villages supposed to be… bustling? "If nobody answers me, I'm just going to come in." She had to admit, the dead silence that followed her threat sent a tiny tremor of fear through her heart. Berating herself for being so childish, she slowly entered the village, her eyes darting around for any signs of life. Where was everybody? "Hello?"
She continued to walk by the shacks, the cows and donkeys and horses forgotten in the silence that shrouded her soul, all the while listening for any sign of life—hushed voices, padded footsteps, the like.
She still heard nothing and now, her hands were beginning to shake, her auburn eyes looking as though she'd just seen a ghost. Though in all honesty, that would've been preferable. If she had seen a ghost, she would've at least known where all the people had gone to. She wouldn't be wandering around the village like a prisoner sent off to die.
After a few moments of aimless wandering, she took a stance at a random house and kicked it in. The wood shattered easily under her demonic strength and in she went, all the while keeping her eyes peeled for any sign of movement. When she still saw nothing, she sighed, completely dejected and turned around to leave when…
"AAAAH!" She fell backwards, her eyes opened wide in terror, her breaths coming out in shallow gasps as she stared at the bloody visage beside the door. A boy, hardly older than twelve, was standing there, a knife dug into his throat like some sort of wild animal, his mouth open in a silent scream, eyes pleading, pleading, pleading for whoever was attacking to stop. His blonde hair was matted with blood and his skin—his precious, precious skin—was hardly recognizable as bruises of all colors littered his arms like trophies, their shapes misshapen and grotesque. Covering her eyes with her hands, she blindly made her way out of the hut, nearly jumping out of her skin as the thick and steady drip-drop of blood resounded through the empty village. Finally, she made it out and, with shaking legs, fell to her knees, her hands grasping roughly at the soft dirt.
Is that what happened to all the villagers? she wondered, glancing around the village in an almost crazed frenzy. Are they all… dead?
Something stirred in the wind—a sound that, had she not been paying any attention, would've escaped her notice and disappeared like a child in the forest. But that sound—it was laughter. People… She'd found her humans!
With renewed courage, she hoisted herself up, her bare feet colliding with the earth in such a fashion that dust flew everywhere. She ran and ran and ran—the more she ran, the closer she seemed to get to the noise. Her head became clear too however—what if these weren't the people of the village? What if they were the people who had… who had possibly… murdered everyone?
Shaking her head obstinately, she dashed around a corner and realized the noise was impossibly loud now, her thoughts colliding against it like a ball against a wall. The smell of burnt meat and fresh tobacco hung heavy in the air and she allowed herself to follow the repulsive scent, her feet carrying her with a mind of their own. Turning around a corner, she saw the people and covered her mouth, pulling back, hardly ready to be discovered if these people truly were the culprits.
The raucous voice of a man reached her first. "You should'a seen their faces! All, 'Oh please, don't kill me! I'll give you whatever you want, so long as you leave my family alone!'" He let out a particularly loud snort, his sides shaking in obvious amusement. "Honestly, as if we wanted their pathetic earnings. Stupid villagers."
Another man chimed in with, "Yeah, I'll say. That one kid I killed—what was his name? Oh yeah, Shizuo—he was so shocked that he screamed and screamed his little head off, as if anybody would hear him." He rubbed his ears as though a gnat had flown into the crevice. "Stupid kid broke my knife, but he wasn't expecting the other one that I shoved into his throat!" He cackled like a mad hyena. "He's probably still hanging around that doorpost, ya know. I shoved the knife in so far that it stuck to the wall!"
"Quit'cher lyin'. I highly doubt you're strong enough to do something li' that."
"Honest! I can go show you his corpse later tonight, if that's what you want. Unless, of course, yer scared."
The other man snorted. "Hardly. What do I possibly fear?" And they continued on like that, bantering back and forth, while an enraged demon stood not even ten feet away. She glared, her fear forgotten, and the need to rip these people—no, these monsters—apart was clawing away at her insides. Taking in a deep breath, she began to walk in when a voice stopped her, her insides turning to ice.
No.
No… It… wasn't possible…
"We're not going to have time for you to go and show off your stupid little hunt. We've got places to be, people to see, things to do—you know, same old, same old." That voice was chillingly familiar, the deep resonance so achingly familiar that Saika almost collapsed right there on the spot. Shaking slightly, she stopped her assault as he—no, her lover—said, "I want to be out of here before that stupid demon realizes I'm gone and decides to put its nose into business that it is not a part of." She flinched; what hurt worse—him calling her a stupid demon or him referring to her not as a woman, but as a thing, an 'it'? Tears silently rolled down her face. "I mean, once those others come and see the destruction of the village, they'll automatically assume that it was that demon who destroyed it, not us. We'll be able to take the village for all its worth and nobody's going to be any the wiser!"
She must've let out a louder breath than she'd intended, for after a moment, it got surprisingly quiet in the hut. Two finger snapped and a mumbled, "Yes, Izaya-sama," brought the two men from earlier closer to her hiding spot. Her first instinct was to flee; after all, what would they do when they caught her? But then, the closer they got, the more in focus they became, she had to stifle a small gasp. There was so much blood… Her mind flickered, like one would a lamp, back to the young boy in the hut, hanging beside the doorframe, his mouth open in that final, god-awful scream. She shivered, but it wasn't from fear this time. No, they had to pay…
They had to die.
With a loud cry, she launched herself at the nearest man, his hands too slow, too impossibly slow, to block the onslaught that was Saika. Her foot connected with his jaw, the action producing a satisfying crunch, and the man slowly, so incredibly slowly, fell backwards with a thump on the earth. She was far from finished though; as she saw him, writhing on the ground in pain, the scene scarily similar to probably the deaths of all the other villagers, she lost all sense of reason and self-control.
Falling over his body, she clenched her fingers together and drove a fist into his nose, his eyes—anything she could get her hands on. One punch to the throat. One punch to the nose. One punch to the chest. And she continued on like this, her movements like one of a marionette, smooth and shaky and so very inhuman. Satisfying crunch after crunch. Satisfying grunts of pain and suppressed screams from the man underneath her.
The satisfying sound as the man's grunts of pain became more like whimpers, before they disappeared altogether. Shaky slightly, she could hardly breathe, hardly feel anything except that terrible bloodlust, that sticky scarlet blood that covered her hands in upmost propriety. Something, much like a raindrop fell—and another and another and they continued to fall, wetting his face, that slack face, with the salty tears. And soon she was wailing, laying her tear soaked face against the dead man, her breaths coming out in shallow gasps. Her fists ached, the feeling sensational, and she continued to whimper, refusing to wipe away her tears. She just killed someone. She'd just killed a monster—no, a human. She loved humans. She did—
Barely registering the hands that were pulling her up, her mind a total mess, she didn't realize the other man from before was holding her in front of her lover until it was all too late. A fist slammed into her solar plexus, her whimpers of fear and sadness being replaced by pained sputtering, as she glared at the man she had once called beloved.
Beloved…
"W-why?!" she shrieked, her voice shrill and demanding, much like a mother reprimanding her children. Tears and snot dripped down her face like a broken pipe. "Why did you kill all those people?" She bit her lower lip, the anger and sadness coming to a boiling point in her lax form. "Why would you… kill the village where we could've raised our children…? Izaya… please… just tell me…" She lowered her head as a wail escaped. "WHY?!"
Her lover—no, this murderer—laughed, the sound just as deep and angelic as the first time they'd met. Only, this time, his eyes weren't warm, nor were they cordial—they were cold, mocking, dead. There was no love in those eyes at all—had there ever been? Or had everything been a lie? "Why, you say? 'Why did you kill those people? Why would you kill the village where we could've raised our children?' Hah!" Saika flinched from the unexpected raise in volume. "Don't make me laugh, you disgusting demon." He smirked as she seemed to go into herself, like she could hide from him with such a pathetic front. "Honestly? You want to know why I killed all those people, why I pretended to love you?" He motioned for the man behind her to let her down, not like she'd resist; she was far too shell-shocked, much like a soldier back from war, her legs hardly supporting her anymore. She slumped down on the floor, her energy spent, as he kneeled down beside her, the sight a mockery of compassion and love.
"You want to know why, hmm?" He was so close, so impossibly close; his breath in her ear was ticklish and warm and so very reminiscent of things once had. More tears fell down her face as he leaned in closer, his voice barely above a whisper. "It's because I felt sorry for you, you stupid monster. I felt sorry for you—I pitied you—for you were always alone, always just beyond the reach of human compassion. I'm not completely heartless; I figured I could give you at least some sort of happiness before I sent your entire life to hell."
"Wha…?"
"Speechless, you despicable monster?" His bright carmine eyes narrowed into a pitiable glance, his lithe fingers rubbing soothing circles on her cheek, as though he was a father comforting a child. "You should be. These plans went through a lot of consideration and I for one have no intention of having them messed up by some nosy demon." He gave a quick nod to the man, who shakily returned it back, a sword held high in his hands. "Now… I'll be taking my leave. Stay here and rot, you monster—don't follow me." He snorted as his hand nimbly grabbed the soft metal, the feel of the blade reassuring in his grasp—the feeling of what was about to transpire all the more alluring. "Not like it matters—by this time tomorrow, you'll be a wanted fugitive by priests and priestesses alike." His eyes narrowed, any sign of mirth or sympathy gone in that single moment. "Now, get out of my sight!"
The foreign feeling as sharpened metal met flesh ripped a scream from her already too-dry throat, her own crimson eyes opened wide in pain, though hardly any from the blade itself. No, if she was being completely honest…
Barely sparing her a glance, Izaya turned back to the man and said, "Come on; it'll be nightfall soon and though we took care of one monster, I'd rather not capture the attention of another." He spun on his heel quickly, his footsteps all business. "Come along now."
No… if she was being completely honest…
Sensing the other man was not following, Izaya turned around, ire settled in those lucid red eyes. The man, on the other hand, was staring at Saika like she was a broken vase—not pity, definitely not—but a kind of childish trepidation, as though he would be scolded for the mess. "I-Izaya-sama… are you sure it's wise to leave her here…?" At his Lord's raised brow, he continued hurriedly, "I-I mean, what if those priests and priestesses come to destroy her and they realize the destruction wasn't her doing? What if they… come after us?" He gave another fearful glance towards the quiet demon. "What if she… comes after us?"
No, if she was being completely honest, the pain she felt from the blade paled in comparison to the pain she felt from her betrayal. She had loved him—given him everything, given him herself—but in the end, in this god awful ending, it wasn't enough. She had been betrayed. A little smile played at her lips.
Betrayed…
And slowly, much like an old record, her mind began sorting through scenarios, impossible scenario after scenario, before she settled on one, the most impossible of them all—but the most likely to succeed. She just needed a little more time…
A knowing light came into those two scarlet eyes, a smile settling on those thin, perfect lips. "Tell me something, and I want you to be honest; why do you think I brought two men to help me? As it goes, I could've easily slaughtered the village myself AND been out of here by noontide. But alas…" A cold mockery came into those eyes, any sense of serenity gone like a ripple on the tide, "I came here with two and even had enough gall to wait around, knowing full well that damned demon would come and look for me. Have you ever heard of 'insurance?'"
Her smile widened on her lips, though it was far from calming. Psychotic, almost. Just a few more minutes…
"Insurance…?" The man looked queasy, a greenish tint coming across his cheeks, his hands resting precariously over his stomach. "Wha…?" He swallowed deeply, his throat suddenly thick with fear. "W-what do you mean, insurance…?"
Now.
Izaya smiled, though it didn't reach his eyes. "Why don't you find out for yourself?"
Before the man could even ponder this, he saw out of his peripheral a scene straight out of hell. Two bloody eyes of pure fury glared at him with the utmost ferocity, those irises loud and burning. Her chest, that glorious chest, was covered with blackish blood, oozing from every pore like an artist had spilled ink onto a canvas. In her hand, small and seemingly at home, was the posh sword, glistening with the same black blood, the hilt giving off a dangerous aura—a demonic aura, he realized, though it was much too late. Before he could even scream, the sword slashed straight through his abdomen, his own crimson blood mixing serendipitously with her own, and he fell—not dead, but pretty damned close—as more and more of his blood stained the earth red. Glancing around, he realized that his employer was no longer here, and he was alone, with this terrifying monster. Monster… He felt hot tears spill down his cheeks, the burning pain in his stomach growing hotter and hotter. He was going to die… He was going to die… He clenched his eyes shut, a whimper escaping his throat. He was going to die!
And suddenly, he saw two sandal-clad feet standing in his way, the glistening sword shining like a beacon in the night. With the rest of the energy he could muster, he glanced up, trying to find pity in those crazed, fiery eyes, something that would show she was still sane, still capable of having an ounce of mercy left. But as he gazed into those eyes—those eyes that had lost all sense to continue, those eyes that had lost all sense of reason, those eyes—he found none. He only found a dazzling madness, the depths of those eyes haunting and forever etched in his memory, a malicious smile splitting her face in two as though it would crack. Raising the blade, she smiled brightly before she brought it down on his head.
The last thing he ever saw were three tiny red tentacles protruding from her mouth, that terrifying smile never leaving her cherubic face.
XXX
"It was then that Saika went on a rampage, killing everything and everyone—be it human, demon, or hanyou—and destroying village after village in her wake." Totosai took a sip of his tea, the fire from his breath heating up the beverage to near boiling temperatures. "She continued looking for the man—Izaya, if legend serves correctly—who had broken her heart, who had betrayed her in the worst of ways." He eyed the wandering spirit warily, a sudden pensive look against his ashen face. "But why do you ask, wandering maiden? Isn't it strange that you haven't heard of this legend before, given your travels?"
The woman beside him, with a red and white hakuma, long black hair tied in a low ponytail, and a bow by her side, took a sip of her tea as well, taking a few moments to answer his question, weighing each word carefully as if they were fragile glass. Honestly, she had heard of the story, but as Totosai had said—or rather, as nearly every story-teller would tell you—Saika continued looking for her betrayer, but after that, things became a little hazy. Nobody knew anything past her demonic rampage. Did she ever find her ex-lover? How had she become a blade? And, the more pressing issue, what did Naraku have to do with any of this?
Giving a thoughtful little hum, she settled with, "I have heard this legend before with a few… minor differences." Kikyo knew that Totosai had not missed her change in tone. "The thing is, I wish to understand what happened after the legend's end. Did she ever find her love? If so, what happened to him? And then…" She placed her tea down and clasped her hands gently in her lap. "How did she ever become a blade?"
"Quite a curious priestess you are," Totosai muttered, giving the woman a sideways glance. Raising his voice, he said, "Well, I can see where you're coming from. But I must warn you, this next bit of history is hardly known by anybody—nay, except thyself and a few choice others, blessed be their souls. It is a bit of dark history from the beginning of what is today known as Inuyasha's Forest…"
Hardly had she seen such a glorious sight, that magnificent, blood drenched sight. Hardly at all… A smile etched on her face, she meandered over to a young child, his panting harsh and grating as he struggled—vainly—to fight off the throes of death. He turned a half-blind eye towards her, his hands clenching his neck desperately, an air of pleading about his person. But there was something different—a pull, an inclination, or something of the like—that gave her pause in her descent to kill him. It was something Saika couldn't exactly place her finger on…
"Please don't k-kill me," the boy begged, pausing only to cough up sickly red mucus on the parched earth. "I-I promise I won't tell anyone."
Saika cocked her head, her once manic smile one of confusion, her carmine eyes widened in surprise. This child… Her blade resounded, as if marked, and she stared at the boy dumbly, uncomprehending. Who was this child? And why did she feel such a strange pull in her heart?
"Who are you?" she asked, her eyes never leaving his broken form lest it be a trick. "You look so familiar…"
The little boy coughed again, the sound like a dying man at a hospital. "My n-name is O-Oni… Onigumo…" Tears welled up in his eyes. "Please…! If you spare me, I'll just…" Using the last of his strength, he grabbed her leg—ignoring the bright blood settled there—and wailed, tears and snot and blood coming out of each of his pores like a waterfall. He grasped her leg hard, his strength surprisingly solid for such a deathly boy, as he rasped in his slowly fading voice, "Please! Just take me back to my daddy…" He looked at her through hooded eyes. "I'm begging you!"
Saika cocked her head slowly, her mouth opened in what could only be described as astonishment. She… knew this child. She knew him or rather, knew someone like him, someone she'd met long ago... someone like him. A memory came, unbidden, as she remembered two lips, soft and beautiful and so very sweet, as they kissed her jaw, her cheek, her eyes, before settling on the softest place of all and kissing there, his mouth intertwining with her own. And those red eyes, those deep and curious red eyes, looking into her very soul, the color harsh, but so calming, the face of love, the face of the man she hated—
As if the child had thrown acid on her skin, she reared back, her auburn eyes widened in suspicion, in fear, in every emotion that she had experienced while with that man. Her hated enemy… And as the child kept staring at her, his eyes that beautiful red, his mouth opened in a silent plea, she lost the very control she'd regained. Gritting her teeth together, she felt, as though in a dream, her hand tighten against the bloodied blade's hilt, raising it up as sunlight slanted against it in a mocking glory—as if the blade would save him. Manic grin reappearing on her face, she raised the blade, fully intent on taking the child's head off, to send him off to meet his family in the Underworld.
A strange thing happened then, one that would, undoubtedly, remain in her memory for her entire life to come. Fast as lightening, a dark-haired man—who had seen much easier days, as his robes were torn in more places than not and his dark hair was matted with sticky sweat and dried blood—leapt in front of the enraged demon, his back bared to her as he cowered over his child's body with his hands held high in surrender. Blade met flesh, the sound of slicing skin piercing the air like a screeching bird, and a deep red flower formed against his broken skin, a gasp escaping those impossibly dry lips, though his posture hardly wavered. If anything, it seemed to find resolve in itself—strengthening and washing away any trace of doubt—as he near bent from the pressure in his shoulder, his low grunts of pain enough to stop Saika's descent.
…She knew that voice… She knew it…
No…
But she knew it so…
"Well, we meet again— don't we, little flower?" Saika felt her blood boil, her hands beginning to shake, her eyes opened wide in a battle lust, the red she was seeing not nearly enough—no way nearly enough—to make her forget what this man did to her, to make her forget all the broken promises, all the lies, all the deceit… But as she stood there, more than able to finish this charade once and for all, she found her legs stiff as concrete, like a stone statue that had been broken, destroyed, trampled on by its owners. She stood there, her carefully cultivated mask of (was it a mask? Or had she really lost it?) euphoric madness sliding away to reveal a frown. Her eyes jumped from him to the boy to him again, and she then knew the truth, the dastardly truth that had been kept secretive for decades and decades. She had been abandoned for him. That dirty child… She'd been abandoned for such a deathly child…
Abandoned…
With a sharp intake of breath, another memory came unbidden, though memory might not be the right term. It had been a dream, a wish, for a child such as this to exist, to love her and call her 'mother.' Boy or girl, demon or human, she cared not. She would love that child just as much as she loved its father—perhaps even more so, if she being honest. This child would've been hers… This child would be hers…
Hers…
Dropping her blade, she felt a lone tear escape, leaving a sticky trail on her cheek. Do not think that way, she chided, though she could hardly contain her tears. Do not think of what could have been… But it was no use. As she stared at the man—no, the father and child, the future she should've had—she could not honestly remember why her heart called out for this man's blood in the first place. She loved him, didn't she? She loved him…
Love…
With a resounding gasp that was loud enough to wake the dead, she stepped backwards, her steps clumsy and stupid, all the while furiously wiping away the gathering tears like a funeral eulogy. Somewhere in the deep recesses of her mind, she rationalized in her insanity that this was no longer her lover and that was not her child by any rights. She rationalized that he had betrayed her, hurt her in the worst possible way, and that he had to pay by whatever means possible. He had to pay…
But…
With hardly any strength left, she fell to her knees, the sword completely forgotten in her meltdown, the world spinning, spinning, spinning impossibly so. She couldn't breathe, couldn't feel the wind or the hatred or the love or the blood… She couldn't even feel herself. It was like she didn't exist, like she was just a specter floating between this world and the next, her own body floating, buoyant. "No…" She couldn't…
"No…" Deep breaths, but was she really breathing? "No… NO!"
And then, the world shattered.
XXX
"No… Onigumo…"
Two dark eyes peered down anxiously, in the space between this world and the next, their depths impossibly large, the amethyst irises hideous but strangely mesmerizing. A voice, soft as velvet, said, Yes, my little flower?
"Don't let him take me away…"
Words deceptively kind, the voice said, Of course, my little flower. I won't let anyone hurt you. I'll protect you. All you must do is simply come to me.
As if on cue, the jewel shards began glowing with a soft light, but it was not warm, almost cold to the touch. They continued to glow like this for a moment, a silent hum filling the air, before the light died down into a withering whisper of beauty. The strange figure went too, and in another moment disappeared completely out of sight.
And Anri, oblivious, rolled onto her side as a chill wracked her body.
XXX
Okay, so you're all probably going to kill me for taking this long to update and for that I'm sorry! I've actually had this entire chapter written for a while now, but between rewrites, school, and the feeling that this chapter should've been much longer, I didn't get it done in a timely manner. I can't say it won't happen again, but I hope that this nice long chapter perks your spirits up :3
Hopefully you enjoyed this and as always, REVIEW! Your reviews mean the world to me. Seriously.
On an unrelated note, I have a request to ask all of the readers, be you new or old, to do. It's up to you if you want to do it, but this April 15th some relatives of mine are participating in an AFSP walk, which stands for American Foundation for Suicide Prevention. The profits raised from this walk will go towards the research, education, and prevention of suicide around the globe and any donations are highly encouraged. They are all 100% tax deductible and even a small donation will help the AFSP. This is in honor of someone in my family that committed suicide and my relatives are looking to raise at least $500. So far, they're at $200 and with your help, they could have even more!
If you're interested, please look at the following link and leave a donation at: . ?fuseaction= &teamID=46436
Thank you and please, have a wonderful day!