A/N: OMGGGGG! FINALLY GOT ZIS POSTED! i was planning to update every week, but nooooooo exams start to roll in and be like argh! oh well, thanks for following and reading and reviewing! I enjoy writing stories about inazuma, and I'm glad that there are those who enjoy it :) ENJOY!
(P.S: IT WILL BE RATED M SOON WAHAHAHAH XD)
KYOTEN CRAP 4: A Tour Of Wonderland
The doors give way once again, signaling the entry of another person. Arion looks up from the old book he was browsing through to see the familiar face of the stranger.
"Ah, welcome back…"
The soccer player greets, but receives no response. Instead, his blue-haired companion
takes off his coat and loosens the ruffled neckerchief draping them over a nearby armchair (and unknowingly giving the other a nice view of that ivory chest). He makes his way over to the antique wardrobe at the far right of the room, pulling out dress shirts, coats, and other articles of clothing and necessities all around the place while packing them into a leather bag.
"We are leaving in three sunsets."
The clueless one stares in confusion as the other continues to scour the room for other things.
"Wha—what do you mean? What's going on? Why am I even here? I—"
"Silence!"
He turns sharply to the prisoner, cutting him off and slamming him onto the headboard in an instant. They are too close for comfort, suddenly in each other's faces, and he could feel the hot breath of his captor once more, noting how it faintly smelled of fruits. The boy is taken aback, staring with eyes wide at him. He could almost reach out and touch the skin that looked so much like dough and surely felt like it as well.
"As long as you're here, you are mine and mine only. You are my prisoner and you will follow my commands if you do not wish for punishment. Understood?"
The brunette could only stare in shock into those magnificent eyes. Only then did he let the words sink in and realize that he truly was in an unknown territory. And he immediately felt powerless under that dominating gaze, gripped with fear as he stayed cornered by the other's slim figure that oozed raw power. He could feel himself shaking again, and he wonders if his savior was just a wolf in sheep's clothing after all. So he has no choice but to
nod his head.
"Answer me!"
Came the harsh demand.
"Ah—! Y-yes!"
The soccer player bows his head, eyes shut so tight that tears could've spilled over. But the inhuman being doesn't like that. He grasps him by the chin and forces him to look up, forces him to face the beast.
"Look me in the eye when you answer me," he growls, and the other could hear the complete authority in that masculine voice.
Slowly, the boy's eyes crack open, pleading unashamedly for mercy as he repeats his answer with more conviction.
Satisfied, the person lets go, a small smirk on his lips.
"Rule number one: don't speak unless I allow you to."
He turns away and resumes his earlier packing. Arion, more scared than ever, could only curl up in the blankets and let a few tears run roll down his cheeks. All he wants is to go back home, back to his own warm bed where he could wake up to the morning sun and walk to school with his friends, instead of waking up to the empty sophistication of velvet and being subject to the dictatorship of somebody he hated to admit was attractive.
He wants answers but he knows that he won't be given any. So all he can do is wait and follow obediently like a dog chained on its leash.
A thunderstorm raged that night. The winds were at a war again, the ear-splitting thunder their war cries. Every now and then the sounds would work its way into the walls and echo in his "dungeon." Every few seconds was a stop and go routine, making him flinch and shiver at the icy winds slipping through the hidden cracks.
Another clap of thunder bursts in the sky, a crescendo to what seemed like fortississimo already. And Arion hated the thunder, it always cast nightmares of childhood that came back to haunt him. Now they're doing it again, and he can't stop the tears from streaming and he screams, he wants it to stop, it's too loud and he just wants some peace in this world that seemed to plague him with discord.
Until a voice hushes him, breaking through the walls of defense his mind used to shut others out when he was like this.
"Hush—don't scream…"
And at the same time something wraps around him, somehow stilling the waters of his troubled self. They were warm, and they seemed so gentle like an angel that came down on earth. And his wailing ceases, ebbing away into soft sobs and chokes as he huddles closer to the source of warmth that cradled him like the waves of the ocean.
Maybe destiny graces with goodness after all.
Just as he promised, they were preparing for departure three days later. Painful injuries faded quickly into scars that were sure to have dug deep in his muscle. So as the still unnamed persona double-checks the supplies, he tosses a shirt to the quiet boy.
"Wear this. Your shirt was ruined a few days ago."
When Arion checks it, he finds that in his hands is a different shirt, one that resembled the ones his kidnapper wore. It smells much like something familiar, and he remembers what happened nights ago and the morning that came next.
~*~|~*~|~*~| Two days ago
He slept surrounded by pitch black and he woke up to the same darkness as well. It was difficult to see, but he could hear the soft panting of someone else and he could feel himself trapped in his current position, which honestly he didn't mind. And when he looked up he saw the source of his calmness.
Beside him lay the angel that came down on earth—or rather, despite its perfection, fell down on the ground because of it. He could see in that exposed expression everything about the other one, things like his wild captivity yet his shattered innocence, his broken and tangled line of thought yet his purity of intentions. He could see an angel that chose to fall from paradise to sacrifice for someone he probably loved, and who chose to live even in the nightmares of mortality for the sake of his loved one.
As he breathed in that air of alienation from society the other always carried, he could sense his loneliness and the burden he carried deep within the heart that beat to a human rhythm much like his own. He didn't want it to end, he didn't want the hands that lingered in his hair and held him close by the waist to let go, he didn't want those hard curves and sharp angles to disassemble the completed puzzle their bodies seemed to create when their limbs were entwined so intimately. To hold on was to let go, so he held on to let go of the distrust and fear that brimmed up inside.
Unbeknownst to him, this would be the start of a dark attraction that may lead to unlawful seduction and unhealthy obsession. This mystery would be the first of all happiness and all miseries.
~*~|~*~|~*~| End of flashback
Upon remembering his inner thoughts, he blushes madly at the thoughts he had of his kidnapper, and he pushes them away as the darkest desires of his heart. He never knew he could potentially be a victim of Stockholm syndrome, and it disturbed him greatly. Then again, having his life saved by someone and being stuck with only that person for days could do a lot to a mindset still in aftershock. So instead he just puts the shirt over his head, doing his best to button it up despite its looseness around his upper body. However, this seems to have an adverse effect to the henchman.
When he sees how his catch is doing, he can't help but stare at the innocuous youth sitting so daintily like a doll on display. His eyes travel up and down that body, noting how the oversized shirt didn't hug his body in a way that looked so appealing, how the translucence of the material hinted at his petite curves but gave away no secrets. The wide neck showed off the protrusion of the boy's skinny collarbones, leading to a nice off-the-shoulder look due to the article of clothing hanging off at the angle Arion was leaning. Down that nice line on his chest the pervert's eyes (yes, he did believe he was to be called such) followed, ending up on those slim thighs that evened out to a rich skin tone. He gulped down the lump on his throat, trying to resist the odd feeling in his stomach when he saw that insanely appetizing neck that arched at the perfect angle for him to lean in and take a "harmless" bite. He turns away before he is completely taken over by the monstrous side of him, and simply clears his throat to catch attention without staring suggestively.
"We begin our journey shortly. In an hour's time we will arrive at the meeting place. We will have company, so don't be too surprised," he warns.
"Ah, yes…"
The reply comes out breathily, and the way it rang in its ears corrupted his mind with images of what it might look like if he was the cause of Arion's breathlessness, if he could have the pleasure of watching him grasping for breath underneath him as those legs parted invitingly and that body language screamed easy access to virtually every inch of skin that was open to exploitation by his malicious needs. He mentally slaps himself upon realization of the implications, and he growls inwardly at his stupidity.
Instead he focuses on the task at hand, grabbing a strip of cloth and walking over to Arion.
"No questions," he says as he blindfolds the boy and ties his wrists in an instant. The victim is shocked, but he could do nothing except wince and acquiesce to he orders, letting himself be immobilized as the preparations are continued.
Moving on, he makes his way towards the far corner of the room where the cupboard was located. He picks one of the various containers, sticking his hands into the ground tea leaves to pull out a tiny bronze key. He then walks to the bedside table, picking up a tiny music box and opening it to reveal the usual jewelry compartment, mirror, and knob. He then twists the knob a few times in both directions, like a passcode, until the handle itself springs up. He then pushes the button, and the room starts to rumble. The boy is clueless, head snapping up in alarm to hear the sound of shifting and setting of heavy stones. When the blindfold is taken off, he sees a staircase in the corner of the room leading down into the depths of the unknown.
"Let's go."
He slides off quickly, feet slipping into a pair of boots that suddenly appeared at the bedside and fit perfectly. They then walk down the staircase, with the nervous brunette in tow, and begin their descent.
At the bottom of the spiral staircase that seemed endless, they finally reach solid ground to come face to face with a long tunnel lighted by torches on either side. They resume, walking in the dimness for quite a while with no conversation passing in between, but with a plethora of thoughts running in each of their minds. Little did they know that they were both thinking of the other.
At last they reach a dead end, illuminated a little more with patches of sunlight. Arion realizes that they must've been traveling underground, judging by the mossy overgrowth and roots clinging to the walls.
"Step on the footholds so you can climb up. I will push you up if needed."
Those are the first words after such a long silence. The prisoner obeys, stepping on the dents in the wall to hoist himself up. It was quite difficult without his hands, and he staggers some, but doesn't fall due to the other's quick hands clamping around his waist. For a split second he stiffens, exerting almost all of his willpower to not get distracted by the contact and swing his legs onto higher ground. When the boy was safely on top, the other follows, climbing up into daylight. Both crawl from under what was the trunk of an old tree, and Arion gasps at the sight before him.
A huge mansion stood tall in front of him, basking in opulence and majesty. The limestone facade and Gothic architecture boasted of something entirely different from the usual buildings of Tokyo. He wonders if he is just in a freaky dream.
It only gets stranger the moment he steps inside. Frame after frame of oil paintings depict a charming couple, soon evolving into family photos of three, then four. And as the children grew up, he saw something familiar.
'Could that be… him?'
He takes a closer look, trying not to make his intentions obvious. And he sees the same his of indigo captured so richly onto that canvas, with eyes that reflected the sun's rays, standing beside a boy that resembled him. More questions spun around his mind, making him dizzy, but he had a feeling that they would be answered the moment he enters the room at the end of the hall.
As promised, a sea of faces greets him. Some are chatting, others are drinking tea, one is reading a book, another seems to be writing something on parchment, and more. Until the one seated at the head of the table addresses everyone, making all heads turn towards the duo.
"At last our company has arrived. Welcome to my humble abode."
He flashes a warm smile, and Arion immediately sees the connection between his sole companion and the host. His assumptions are only confirmed when his captor walks up to give him the customary handshake and a hug. Brothers, perhaps?
"Anyway, you must be tired from the journey. Brother tells me that you haven't had breakfast."
Speaking of that, the culture-shocked boy realizes that he refused to eat anything for the past few days, and now his stomach is complaining loudly.
"Um, yes…"
At this the hazel eyes turn to the other, who looks away in shame.
"But it was my fault! I didn't feel hungry!"
Arion interjects quickly, though all of them (himself included) are surprised at the outburst.
"Well let's not keep our guests waiting. Oh and someone untie the boy."
At this a raven comes forward and unties the knots. And he feels nothing but relief to be able to feel his wrists again. They walk to the table and take their respective seats, with his prior companion occupying the one beside his brother and everyone else as they pleased.
"Please, do take a seat."
He gestures to the empty seat on the other end of table that seemed to be reserved only for him. So he obliges, sitting down albeit the funny stares everyone had on him.
After a sumptuous feast of what Arion presumed to be a cross of Russian and English dishes of another era (well hardly anything that happened seemed weird at all anymore), the table is cleared and everyone is quiet again. The head once again clears his throat to begin.
"I believe we all know why we are gathered here. I, Vladimir Blade, have summoned you, for I believe that each of you has an important role in this mission.
"My brother is tasked to capture someone for the Holy Empress, Alexandra Zabelle. However, we all know that he is not planning to follow her orders. He will not turn over the Sacrifice for her evil intentions, nor will he let her gain possession of the Sacred Moon Mirror and the Holy Lunar Chalice. That is why he will lead the Sacrifice to his chosen path."
All heads turn to Arion, who is desperately trying to process the information overload. He is a so-called "Sacrifice"? And if he is, what is his destiny? Who is the Holy Empress? Who is his captor and his companions and why did they revolt?
"If that is so," spoke another brunette whose face was framed by waves, "I believe that time is gold."
"Hold on, how are you even sure that we should help him? First of all, he's the henchman of the wretched sorceress, and second of all, what's in it for us?" A boy with silver hair asks.
"Well in case you're wondering…"
At this the group starts chattering among themselves, causing a racket that only grew more chaotic by the second.
"Enough!"
Everyone stops when the said henchman slammed his fists on the table.
"My brother only offered his assistance. If you do not wish to be of any aid in my endeavor to heal my brother and release the people from Zabelle's reign, you are free to leave."
No one speaks. Arion is terrified; somehow he has an idea that his will not be easy.
"I agree with them in the sense that I don't completely trust you," said the brunette from earlier, "but like I said a while ago, time is gold. I am willing to offer my assistance as long as it benefits many."
When no more contradictions are heard, Vladimir takes it as a sign of affirmation from everyone.
"Alright, let us begin the introductions. You may start," he says gesturing to the brunette who stands up in an instant.
"My name is Riccardo Di Rigo. I am the leader of the team."
The boy beside him with carnation-colored pigtails stands up next. "I am Gabriel Garcia, right hand man."
Next to him, a bored-looking guy who is jolted by another pink-haired girl with a green ribbon gets up lazily. "My name is Aitor Cazador, the scout."
The pinky goes next. "My name is Jade Greene, the team's spy for information."
The raven who untied him a while ago goes up next, flashing a bright smile. "I'm Skie Blue, the team nurse. Nice to meet you, Chosen One."
He knew it was meant to be a joke, but he wasn't about to laugh.
A short and friendly-looking boy barely looks like he stood up. "My name is Jean-Pierre Lapin, the messenger."
After all the introductions were given, there was one last person who didn't say anything all throughout.
"Don't be rude. Introduce yourself."
Vladimir chided gently. With a sigh he gets up, addressing everyone, Arion in particular, with those stunning eyes.
"I will be the overall head of this mission. I am a henchman of the Holy Empress, but you may address me as Victor Blade."
With that he sits down, making no eye contact whatsoever.
Victor.
That name will be the one thing Arion was sure he'd never forget.