Pretty Little Devil
Chapter Five. Cruel Phantasm.
Word count: 4k
Warnings(!): I'M SORRY. HOW LONG HAS IT BEEN? I'M SO SO SO SORRY. (COMPLETELY UNEDITED. BARELY EVEN REREAD.)
Disclaimer: This story is entirely fictitious in all aspects and does not generate any profit whatsoever. The creative rights for the characters mentioned belong to their original creators. Any lyrics and quotes cited belong to their respectful originators.
Pretty Little Devil
"Cruel Phantasm."
~ \ ~ Chapter Five Start. ~ / ~
"Violent breathing
Keeps the oxygen kissing torn up lungs.
My hearts beating but it won't keep me from saving everyone.
Yet I still have
Messages to send to those I love.
Violent breathing, it won't keep me from saving everyone."
.
.
Sakura stood before the towering doors of her throne room. It felt as if she had not seen them in years, though, in reality, it had only been hours. Time was something she had never been very weary of. She held a harsh grudge against the ticking of the clock. Perhaps it wasn't the clock that she held feelings of resentment towards. It was the wait and time itself. The more she thought about it, the slower it seemed to repeat, but with the humans – the Akatsuki-, it had flown by like never before.
Thinking of them, the pinkette swiveled her head around, sparing them a glance before turning back around. The leader –Pein, Nagato, the Deva path- stood several steps behind her, expression that of scrutiny, followed by Konan, his partner, on his right, and the bi-colored man on his left. Behind them were the seven others, standing side-by-side in their respective teams. The Iwa and Suna ninjas –Deidara and Akasuna no Sasori; the "Zombie Combo" as they had been referred to –Hidan and Kakuzu; the ex-member of the Seven Ninja Swordsmen of the Mist –Kisame, the Tailed Beast Without a Tail- and the Uchiha all stood behind the trio. It seemed they had smelled it too.
Blood.
Sakura straightened her back, inhaling the tainted air. Without any more hesitation, she threw open the entryway. The resounding slam echoed as the wood ricocheted off the inner walls. The sight revealed to her was disconcerting, yet not completely unwelcome. She had always reveled in the theatre of war.
Her assembly hall had been turned into a battleground.
The grand silver chandelier draping from the ceiling was lit for once, dozens of tiny flickering flames emitted from the wax candles arranged from each branch. The usually dark room was illuminated, allowing for the arena to be fully visible in all of its twisted and demented beauty. Normally starch white walls were stained crimson, droplets and splatters creating a messy painting of reprehensive brushes. Smoke and incense hung heavy and thick, slithering throughout the room like an oily snake. The plush red carpet leading toward the elevated throne in the back of the room looked as if it was leaking, its color running across the white floor.
She trailed her gaze from the murky liquid to the source –or sources. Strewn about, lying misshapen and deformed were the bodies of the helgrels stationed about Hell. Fifty of her servants, loyal only to her, the Demon King, ripped to pieces, burned to ashes, desecrated in her own residence. True, they were nothing but pawns, disposable and easily replaced, but to have their blood spilt by the hands of some lesser being; it was unforgivable.
Sakura narrowed her eyes, trailing her gaze to her throne. Her occupied throne. An animalistic growl rumbled low in her throat, echoing eerily through the high-ceilinged room. The air smelled of lilacs, of purity, of sanctity. It was a scent that was both familiar and unsettling, but more importantly, it was unwelcome. She never wanted to be around this scent again. It meant one of them was near.
An angel.
The Akatsuki stood idly in the doorway, surveying their surroundings. They felt the tension in the air, no doubt. It would have been difficult not to be affected by it. The atmosphere was thick with opposing energies. One was lucid, gentle, and mild. The other was violent, strong, and alluring. However, both were dark and dangerous, spelling corruption in fine print.
"I have been waiting, Demon King," The voice was like bells, coming from the elegant man draped across her magnificent ruby seat. Long mauve hair fell in smooth waves across his shoulders, bangs framing a chiseled face with stunning eyes like liquid metal. His persona was placid and sturdy at the same time. An amused smile tilted his lips, head leaning upon his palm. The odd thing was that she remembered this man.
Where had she seen him before?
Sakura swiped a piece of hair behind her ear, taking a step forward. She knew not to foolishly rush headlong into battle with one of them. "Why have you come, seraph? I have done all that He has asked of me. What does He want?" A sliver of pure malice made itself known in her tone, unable to be kept at bay. She had millennia to nurture her hatred, millennia to plan her revenge, millennia to wallow in her "punishment." How dare He send one of His underlings to do His bidding? How dare He think that He could invade her realm without any consequences? Although, it was strange that He would send someone here. She had not heard or seen any of them for many years. They had left her alone and let her be. The only times she had been aware of their existence was when Guardian Alphas(1) trailed their designated humans. And they were only glimpses at that. The timing was too perfect. Something was off.
The angel rose angrily, hands slamming onto the armrests forcefully. His eyes were ice cold, lashes lowered in distaste. "I have nothing to do with Him," he spat the Holy One's name as if it were poison on his tongue. He leaned forward and the sound of cloth tearing filled her ears. Her lips twitched as feathery appendages unfolded from his back.
Black wings.
"You are-"
"Gin, the Second Fallen."
"-pathetic."
.
.
"So we sing into the night
And break all the silence.
With one attempt to rise the broken from the dead.
Avenge their souls and mend their souls.
We sing into the night."
.
.
Heat. Fire. Burning.
All she could register was the pain that coursed through her entire body. It felt like her blood had been set ablaze, boiling underneath her skin. On the ground, she laid, motionless and writhing in agony. In a star around her, five beauteous creatures looked down upon her. Their eyes stared impassively, emotionlessly, and steadfastly. Not a shred of pity or remorse showed as they condemned her to a penalty not even a murderer should be put through. Were these beings not supposed to be those of compassion, sympathy, and clemency?
Struggling, for any movement sent shockwaves of inconceivable anguish through her limbs, with great effort, she turned her head to look behind her. A figure bathed in pure white light stood immobile and robust, a vision of unequal power and amnesty.
Yet, here she was, and where was that forgiveness? Where was that kindness?
She couldn't find it.
"Child, this is the price you must pay for the unforgivable sin you have committed." His voice was gold. Minutes –or was it hours?- before, she would have said it was the most beautiful thing she had ever heard. Now, however, it was nothing but nails against a chalkboard. It was too perfect. She hated it.
Sin? Sin! Not once in her entire existence had she sinned. The whole of her childhood was spent in a convent. The nuns were her caretakers, teaching her to live a life for…Now that she thought about it, she had given Him everything! Day after day she prayed for the good of others, never herself. Hours she had spent volunteering at the orphanage where she had grown up.
And for what?
For this?
For damnation? No, even worse than that…
"You are bound to this fate for 12 millennia." The sound of metal-clinking echoed through her ears, followed by the cool chill of something winding around her body, a small relief before the chains began to ignite and sizzle. She cried out as the bindings tightened, wrapping forcefully around her wrists, ankles, neck and chest.
"Watch over the world from your deep prison." The ground seemed to fall out from below her and she flailed her arms and legs, looking for something, anything to grab onto. Blackness closed in on all sides, right, left, below.
"Govern the passage of souls and fetter the evil budding on Earth." What was He saying? She didn't understand! The pain was clouding her mind, the voice confusing her as it boomed from everywhere all at once.
"Only once this task and quota is fulfilled may you receive forgiveness…" She shut her eyes, clenching her fists as tears streamed down her face. Anger bubbled in her chest and she screamed to release some of the emotion, the fear and fury.
Her body impacted with the ground, wherever that may be. The air was hot, heavy with dread and evil. She felt…She felt nothing, numb, unfeeling, dead. Her willpower to stay awake rapidly dissolved, temptation to give in to the nothingness overpowering her battle for consciousness.
"This is your duty."
The pain was somewhat comforting.
"Sakura, the First Fallen, birthed Demon King and future Kemono no Igen."
.
.
"Feel your heart through my hands.
I feel your loneliness; I'm reaching out to you.
Give the beat just a chance
To lift you up and out.
Bring you above the ground."
.
.
When she awoke, her body pulsed, power thrumming through her veins like the sweetest drug built only with intoxication in mind. She was at the edge of a cliff, looking into the deep and all-consuming abyss. Rocky outcroppings springing from the edge like manic fingers sharp as the talons of an eagle seemed to reach out to get her. It was too much, too soon.
She raised her hands, gripping the sides of her head in a pitiful longing to squelch the voice –so reminiscent of her own tenor, yet so rich, so dark, so perfect. It whispered divine promises that no being, not even the wretched Kami himself, could withstand; the temptation stronger than any and all others.
"Blood seeping through cracks in the wall…"
Flashes of images ran rampant through her mind, projected by something other than her own conscious.
"Itching ears that listen for the voices…Oh, the voices…"
Darkness inhibited all that could have been seen were it to exist.
"…Craving the madness…And the madness, devouring your sanity…Delicious…"
A shiver coursed down the length of her spine, tingling in and out the marrow rungs of her vertebrae.
"I want more…More! More! More!"
What was this, this unreserved addiction to something she could not even figure?
"Call me. Give me a name. At the price of a name, I'll give you the power."
So…power, was it? Was it power she craved?
"It's what you want, right? The power to do what you want; get what you want, when you want it."
Yes, yes, yes. She did. She wanted it, but no…power corrupted, did it not?
"I can see it. Your lust. Hunger. Desire. So, come on. Do it…"
She could not.
"Do it."
Stop.
"Do it!"
No…
"DO IT!"
NO!
"Give me a name!"
She let loose a low moan, eyes shut tight in her painful pleasure. Her hands ran sensually down her sides, touching her, pleasing her, loving her and only herself. With a shuttering breath, she sighed, "The End."
And pitched forward, freely giving herself to the shadowy hands that caught her body, leading her deep, deep down into the recesses and bowels of hatred and bloodlust, the echo of her own voice chuckling with malevolence, "It is yours."
.
.
"So we sing into the night
And break all the silence.
With one attempt to rise the broken from the dead.
Avenge their souls and mend their souls.
We sing into the night."
.
.
She traced a delicate finger across the corpse before her, sinking her nails into the wide pale blue eyes that no longer saw her and all the beautiful madness that consumed her. Her fingers sunk into the man's horror-stuck orb, giving a lovely sound as she plucked the ocular from its fleshy frame. With a small flick, she sent it flying toward the helgrels hovering by her side, waiting like the piteous animals they were for the go ahead from their mistress. At the sight of her hand giving a regal wave, they attacked with the ferocity of only a trained servant, jaws snapping and tearing apart the mortal's tissue with ease.
With a disconcerted sigh, she lilted, "It's not enough."
Emerald eyes, clouded with passive longing, looked all around her, drinking in the sights of death and gore. The city was drenched in blood, the clouds abovehead raining furious buckets of gleaming crimson. The moon appeared from behind them, illuminating the silent metropolis, the only sound being that of far off growls and yips. Her helgrels would feast this night. They would be satisfied.
But she would not be.
What could she do to fulfill this lust, this need?
Licking her lips, a smile tinged with the corruption of insanity crossed her face. She turned her gaze to the heavens. "Humanity has become too corrupt…just like me, Kami," she said, addressing the King.
Grinning, she couldn't help but think. 'Heavy is the head that wears the crown.'
She would not be the only one to suffer. The rest of them would pay and relish in her torment right alongside her. At this moment, with a fleeting and wonton thought, the entire world would be no more. She would paint the planet in blood. Maybe then would her thirst be quenched. It would lead the generation into a new type of human. The technology would have to go. Evolution would have to be rushed.
The humans would need to be stronger.
Stronger they walk, the harder they fall. How…pleasant that sounded. How entertaining.
Sighing as she walked away, she grinned, "The stronger they are, the harder they fall. Let's see what carnage I can bring, eh, Kami?"
Her laughter faded slowly as it traveled to all ends of the Earth, riding on a wind of annihilation.
.
.
"I'll do whatever it takes,
Whatever it takes to break the silence.
I'll do whatever it takes,
Whatever it takes to break the silence.
Break the silence."
.
.
Outrage lit up the ex-angel's face, eyes as sharp as the blade of a katana, glinting menacingly. [Content up to this point written two years ago. Yeah. I know.] Sakura felt the abrupt shift as their gazes connected, the world flipping on its axis and simultaneously righting itself at the exact same moment. The quiet raged and plundered, silence an all-consuming force as they fought. The muscles in her legs tensed, coiling dangerously tight as if readying to pounce, though neither moved. Two opposing powers, compelled to be enemies, the very foundation of their beings shouting, screaming to kill, to end, to tear apart, and revel in the aftermath.
Mind over matter, the beginning—as always—was nothing more than strategizing, warfare without action. They were not human, long before had the divine and sin-driven risen above immediate physical attack. Power of will, power at its most basic, twirling, mocking, caressing, grinding—testing.
If he struck first, she would easily counter. The advantage would lay with her, and she would not disappoint. She would win.
If he waited, he could have several precious seconds to respond, but she was a wildcard, the irrevocable embodiment of ferocity and untamable, inimitable deceit. He would not be able to anticipate her movements, no matter what.
Leaving…
Mind over matter, an illusion shattered.
Again, the world shifted, cracking into thousands of jagged lights and glimmering pieces before they struck the ground and reformed, whizzing into perfection once more.
When they collided, an earthquake of sheer energy frenzied in waves of pure destruction, sending shivers and cracks along the glass crimson walls, blood oozing from the flawless imperfections. The end had been decided long before the start, when evil had walked in to find fraudulent sitting primly.
A single second passed, a blink of an eye, and Sakura stood victoriously, like an unblemished warrior brutally taking pride in the hunt, in the conquest.
Warmth encompassed her hand, a harmonious combination of sharp bone broken and cracked slicing deep and blood and flesh sliding across her pale skin like the wind. Veins and arteries shivered and jolted, a heart held engulfed in her palm, squeezing almost gently the organ, glossy and defiant to keep beating, pumping vigorously as adrenaline coursed to keep the pain from stealing his breath.
This disgusting sack of nothing held no chance to succeed and yet, lips devoid of color upturned as diamonds and emeralds clashed, striking like a pickaxe to stone. "For the one who sows to his own flesh will from the flesh reap corruption…(2)"
Smoky eyelashes lowered slightly, a flutter of movement like ash shifting through the air. Fool! Color seeped from the slowly descending body-into-carcass, white-dusted robes smelling of the salt and sea melting into a recognizable black gi that had her gut plummeting unnaturally. Luscious rose-petal lips tilted south infinitesimally, a movement so minute it would remain undetected even at close observation. Her gaze feasted on the sloping lines of a bare neck, hinting at a peak of bone, leading down the long braided chord wrapped like a hangman's noose to the gleaming silver of a smelted circle wrapped about a down-turned triangle.
Recognition led to a growing horror that she refused to acknowledge. He meant nothing, a mere pawn on her master chessboard. Though, this sacrifice had come significantly earlier than she had intended, his purpose was far larger than a mistaken death.
Anger came rushing into being next, rampaging within the confines of her body like a barely-contained tsunami. Sakura gnashed her teeth violently, straining to keep up the innate boundaries of indifference and cold apathy.
An angel dared take her things from her, stealing like a pathetic waste of space, a damned thief that she would hunt to the ends like the mewling dog he was. Oh, yes, she'd find him, the wretch, just to have the satisfaction of casting him into the Pit. His screams would be enough to send her to sleep for the first time since her Fall; this she swore. There was not a welcome place in all of the dimensions where he could hide from her.
She dismissed the notion that this was too much effortful vengeance for an easily replaceable pawn.
Her chest tightened dramatically, one of the newly formed chain helixes yanking at her very institution, threatening to rip her into nothing. She heaved inexplicably, releasing an inaudible moan of utter suffering. What…?
The silver-haired man, Hidan. He was tethered to this Rakshasa, soul for soul, sharing in his immortality. If any other demon had done this, Jashin would have felt nothing, for his species was intangible, one of no sure form or shape, but Sakura was beyond even the rules of his construction. She had not simply taken hold of his physical heart, but also the manifestation of his existence, as was her right as Demon King. It was too far, she could not retract her actions, but if she could not—the human playing at everlasting would perish and their contract would be voided. She would end, not die, dying was a simple matter for one such as her.
Unacceptable.
With careful movements, she retracted her hand, knowing as the tightening continued in her chest that time was of the essence, an irony not to be ignored. Had she not just been pondering the workings of time only minutes before?
Wrapping an arm around his withering body, Sakura lowered him to the floor, kneeling so gracefully it was sinful. Red, dimming eyes stared at her as if she were the pinnacle of all that mattered, stuttering breaths croaking from gaping lips. By will, a beautifully carved dagger materialized into her awaiting hand, grip fitted perfectly. The blade was utterly bleached, so sharp the very tips of its edges were invisible to the naked eye, wickedly curved like a sickle with a shimmering disposition about it as if it had its own aura. Steam rose from where she held it, burning into her flesh, filling the air with the smell of negative splendor.
Her countenance did not change as the angelic weapon slid daintily across her wrist, drawing from it one of the rarest liquids to be held: her blood. It was not red, nor was it any color on the human spectrum, seemingly some mythical hue of no tint or matter, but of life and death, an idea more than an actual substance. Immediately, she pressed her wrist to Jashin's lips, silently commanding for him to drink.
This was forbidden, more than forbidden—impossible.
Yet, the Demon King had always defied the reaches of possibility, by spirit she was illusory, no truly there and yet the most sure and real thing of all. When had she ever played by the rules, even Before? If breaking them was what got her sentenced, why not dismiss them altogether? By disregarding the ex-angel, Gin's appearance here, He had –by proxy- turned a blind eye to all action she took against him. She was, in essence, free to pursue any and all routes of extermination and to do so, she needed Jashin alive.
So mote it be.
The tightening abruptly stopped, releasing her from the torment of near expulsion. A shuttering gasp alerted her to the success of her endeavor, not that she even expanded on the notion she would fail. She never had—she never would.
"How's it going, gorgeous?" Velvet words caressed the hollow of her throat, where her new second had ducked upon reawakening. He knew it, she knew it. The words did not need to be said to be understood, it just was, as she and he. Enlightenment shared with the giving of blood, intimate, a small part of her directly within him, forever to stay. It would be as close to completion as she would ever get, as close to a lover and as close to her own child as he would get. The Demon King shared nothing, not her subjects, not her kills, and most definitely not herself.
Releasing her hold on him, Sakura rose slowly, watching as Jashin followed, somehow seeming more vibrant, simply more than before.
As if suddenly remembering the humans, she turned to see them still in the same positions, confusion evident and not likely to be erased anytime soon. The first battle of a multi-dimensional war had just been waged and won—at a cost, as all battles were—in a matter of two minutes. They would figure it out sooner or later; she had no patience for explanations at the moment.
Gin had played her for a fool, something only He had succeeded in doing all those years ago. It was a humiliating milestone for her; she would not be caught unawares again.
This little meeting had just been a chance for him to showcase that he was a true threat. By sitting in her throne, he had told just what his intentions were—and he had the means to do it. As an ex-angel, he was in possession of a Blessed item, the only thing that could truly harm her—along with the added obligation of ten humans she had to protect. Such weakness, only another reason to hate the 'coveted race.'
For now, Sakura had to bring the Akatsuki to the Middle Dimension, away from Hell. The sooner they completed their task, the sooner she could put full focus on the matter of Gin. However, she would also take with her the Nightingales, two people who had agreed to become hers instead of moving on to an Afterlife Vista in exchange for protection, a soul for a soul. Quite a small world it was—for the souls she had already made sure to interfere with stood before her now.
Lifting her chin, she cupped her hand, whispering smoothly into it, "Come." An Ichorfly trembled out of her hold, disappearing soon afterwards to bring forth her summons.
The voice of Pein had her arching a brow in recognition, "This is the one who sent the message?"
Jashin grunted in distaste, crossing his arms angrily, "I sent nothing, not even word to the Nightingales before the trap had been set off." He addressed her thoroughly, not even bothering to acknowledge the humans within the room, even if one was a devout follower. "He must have gotten hold of a stray and set all of this up."
Sensing the appearance of a rip on the opposite side of the room, Sakura swiftly angled her body towards it, closed off from the world around her and completely sharp in beauty. From the light, two figures emerged, bowing lowly to her, voices echoing in tune with one another, "Your majesty."
"Yahiko, Shisui," she lilted, names coming off her lips like sighs of temptation. "You'll be joining us on this little adventure."
.
.
"So we sing into the night
And break all the silence.
With one attempt to rise the broken from the dead.
Avenge their souls and mend their souls.
We sing into the night."
~Into the Night, Eyes Set to Kill
.
.
~ \ ~ Chapter Five End ~ / ~
(1) Guardian Alphas: Angels that are invisible to humans, assigned to a single one that will most likely play an important role in the world. They protect them and silently guide them down the path to their destiny. This is why they are one of the only angels to actually be seen around.
(2) For the one who sows to his own flesh will from the flesh reap corruption…: Excerpt from Galatians 6:7-8. Gin is referring to his deception.
A/N: I have no excuse. How long has it been? Two years? Tempus fugit, jeez. I don't know where this is going. I'm winging it now, but at least it's going somewhere, ya? A grand big thank you to everyone that has reviewed in my absence. The rabbit of plot had escaped my clutches, but alas, he returned with an army. Please review if you have the chance!
Love. Love. Love.
Kiss. Kiss.
~Alice