The two men stared at the dilapidated shrine in disbelief they had come to the right place.

"This is it?" one asked.

"This is where he told us to bring her," confirmed the other, glancing down at the unconscious woman they held between them.

"Is she dead yet?"

His companion placed his finger under her nose to check for breath. The movement of air from her nostrils was faint but there.

"Not yet." He sighed, readjusting his grip on her arm.

Her wrists and ankles were no longer bound with the leather ties their master had used to restrain her. She had been beaten nearly to death and showed no signs of waking up so they had removed them once they cleared the Zenin Clan compound.

"It would have been more merciful if she had died before coming here," the second man muttered, kicking the pile of ceramic shards from the rife tile that had crashed to the ground along with many others eons ago.

"We didn't bring her here to save her," the first man said, glancing around at the decaying building. "So let's take her inside and leave already."

The older of the two men placed a tentative foot on the sagging bottom step. He halfway expected it to dissolve with a puff into sawdust. When it did not, he dared to put all of his weight on it and drag the woman forward. There was no longer a rope attached to the rusty bell. The money box had been broken apart and left in a pile in a corner of the porch.

"You know there's a demon that lives here now," the younger man said, reluctant to move forward.

"It's not a demon. It's a man cursed to be a monster," corrected the senior almost losing his grip on the woman because his junior refused to move. "Move it, you ass. The sooner we dump her, the sooner we can get the hell out of here."

"Yes, sir." The idea of leaving this cursed place quickly enabled him to rush up the two steps and across the creaking porch to the double doors.

Both men froze in their tracks and stared at the sliding entrance doors that had somehow miraculously managed to stay on their hinges despite decades upon decades of neglect. Each taking hold of a wooden handle, they nodded to signal to the other to open them simultaneously.

The inside was disturbingly still. Covered in cobwebs and dust, the wood grayed by time and weather, made the empty space even more desolate and empty. Only their two sets of footprints and the drag marks from the woman's limp legs scraping across the floor marred the thick layers of dirt and leaves that had previously been untouched by humans.

The older man pulled her toward the long wooden table placed in front of the higher built altar that had once housed all of the sacred relics which had most likely been stolen at the same time the money box had been emptied.

"What are you doing?" the younger man hissed, glancing around as if expecting someone to catch them. "We can't put her there."

"The god fled this place long ago," the older man said, ruthlessly snatching her arm to pull the other man forward as well. "Besides, we bring her as a sacrifice for the demon who lives here now."

"It's not a demon, but a cursed spirit," the junior corrected him, made bold due to being distracted by his fear. "Besides, we brought her here under orders to get rid of the evidence of Master Zenin's penchant for cruelty and violence...especially toward women."

The men hefted the woman onto the table. Her black curly hair was tangled and matted with blood. Black and purple bruises and bloody scrapes covered her body from head to toe. Somehow she had managed to avoid broken bones. Not that it mattered. She was brought here to vanish; to be eaten by a monster. A monster no less cruel and awful than their Master, the new and young head of the Zenin Clan, Naoya.

The older man sighed sadly, gazing down at the young woman who had yet to regain consciousness.

"Perhaps it's best she doesn't wake up for this." He clicked his tongue, shaking his head. His fingers gingerly traced along her swollen, black and purple cheek that had been lovely and peach toned, lightly blushed with the innocence of youth and happiness. "It's such a shame. She was so pretty."

"And nice too," added the other man to receive a dubious glance. He lowered his eyes to look at the woman.

One eye was covered by a purple bruise that extended from the bridge of her nose to her hairline and halfway down her cheek. Her eyes had been a golden amber color and so kind when she had looked upon him and thanked him after setting her plate in front of her at dinner.

"Yes, she was," he older agreed at last, issuing an exasperated sigh. "We should go."

The younger man began pulling off his dark blue cotton haori that identified him as a servant of the Zenin family. He placed the jacket over her half naked body covered only in the tattered strips of her silk kimono that remained.

"What are you doing now?"

"She's going to be cold."

"She going to die anyway," he muttered, watching his companion carefully cover her from her chin to her battered shins. "How are you going to explain your missing jacket?"

The young man glanced back at his superior servant. He blinked dumbly. He had not thought of that. But he turned back to the woman and tucked the haori around her.

"Ugh, whatever. What do I care? Let's go already," the older man snapped, glancing around apprehensively. "That damned cursed spirit could show up at any time. He'll kill us too, idiot."

"What did she do wrong anyway?" inquired the too-curious-for-his-own-good servant, wrapping his arms around his chilled body as they walked out into the cool breeze of the autumn night.

"She was supposed to marry the Master. She said no."

"She said no?"

"She said no," repeated the man, closing the door behind them. "She refused the marriage after meeting him. No one, especially a woman tells, Naoya Zenin no."

~\'/~


Chiaki inhaled deeply then groaned. It hurt to breathe. Her entire body ached and throbbed like one gigantic wound. Opening her eyes, she saw nothing but darkness making her wonder if she had gone blind. Inhaling sharply and gritting her teeth, she forced herself to sit up. A whimper from the electrical shock of pain that raced through her extremities made her cry out. The sound seem to be captured and halted by the heavy, stale air surrounding her.

The heavy material that had been covering her chest was now gathered around her waist. Fumbling blindly in the stifling darkness, trying to figure out what the covering is, she discovered the fabric to be a thick cotton haori - a servant's jacket. Finding the armholes, she slipped it on.

Stubbornly setting her jaw and her mind to standing up, trying not to think about the pain it would cause, she swung her legs to the side over the hard flat surface holding her up. Unfortunately, gravity did it's work, pulling her straight off the table onto the floor. She shrieked from resulting surge of agony overtaking her body.

"That bastard," she seethed, allowing her anger to propel her to her feet. "I should have been more patient," she scolded herself, stumbling forward. Her eyes adjusted to the tiny rays of dim gray light filtering through cracks in the wall. She shuffled forward in hopes of finding a door as her eyes continued to adjust to the shards of light filtering into the room. "I should have agreed to the marriage. I should have done the world and all women a favor. I could have poisoned his tea and all three meals that he would have had me bring him every damn day until the bastard keeled over."

Chiaki felt along the horizontal planks of the wall until she found wood that ran horizontally indicating a door frame. Moving faster, her fingers gingerly slid along the midpoint of the ceiling to floor pieces of wood in search of a handle. Her fingers bumped into something jutting out from the door. Grasping the cylindrical object, she pulled back to slide the door that opened with a creak and snap of the old fragile wood.

Glancing around, she noticed she was in the broken down shrine of an old forgotten god. It was most likely one of the really antiquated ones with dozens of steps leading up to an already out of the way spot in the dense forest. Because where else would the great and powerful Zenin's dispose of a body?

"Yes, of course, I'm in the middle of nowhere in a place no one has stepped foot in hundreds of years because burying me in the backyard would have been far too easy and sort of anticlimactic," she muttered aloud to herself.

She doubted she was the first and definitely not the last of any literal skeletons in the Zenin's closet. Shivering at the thought of becoming a skeleton after being picked clean by scavengers living in the forest, she pulled the jacket more tightly around her. Of course the being killed by a predator coming before that would be far worse.

"Where do I go?" she asked herself, glancing around as if to find the answer in the trees.

Just go somewhere. Anywhere is better than here. Move!, her inner voice commanded her to get her feet going.

As soon as her toes touched the step, with a small whoosh, flames appeared in the stone lanterns on either side. There was a low booming sound followed by successive ones, each gaining in volume.

Thunder?, she wondered. Tipping her chin up to the sky, looking at it through the one that was not swollen shut, she could see there was not even a wisp of a cloud in the sky. There was even a full moon.

Rushing down the steps, not even considering their fragile state or the possibility she might lose her balance on her weak legs and fall, she ran toward the faded torii at the end of the sidewalk leading away from the shrine. Staring down the first flight of stone steps, seeing the flat area then another subsequent flight of stairs, she heard the sound coming closer and getting louder.

"Footsteps?" she queried aloud, noting the cadence.

Chiaki squinted her one good eye as if that would help her see better. Was the next set of steps incredibly short since she could already see the person's head? Or are they incredibly tall?

Holding her breath, she waited for more of the body to appear. Though covered in shadows created by the moonlight shining through the intertwined branches of the trees, she could make out the oversized bodily features. Wide shoulders and torso. Unbelievably thick arms and legs like tree trunks. The arms lifted and stretched as if he were tired. The arms seemed to separate into four separate appendages. Four? How hard did Naoya punch her in the head?

Although still a few yards away, the stranger seemed so much closer due to his gigantic body size. He must be at least eight feet tall.

"Oh, my god," she gasped, backing away as the man came closer still. But this was no man.

The shadows dispersed as he reached the bottom step of the final staircase. His pink hair was swept back from his face as if the wind had styled it. His face was covered with thick black lines, some that followed the line above his square jaw making it appear even more angular. There were also lines on his chin and at the corners of his eyes.

Eyes! So many eyes! Two reddish pink eyes on the left side, one below and slightly offset from the one above. What seemed to be part of a second face, was attached to the right side of his face with two eyes on it but none of the tattoo markings. The flesh looked darkened and wrinkled as if mummified, like part of a desiccated conjoined twin.

Wide bands of black encircled his biceps and wrists on all four arms. Circles of black decorated the rounded outer part of his brawny shoulders. Hers eyes followed the segmented lines from his shoulders down his chest where they almost met on his sternum then further down to his defined abs covered in blood down to the waistband of his black hakama pants. There was a slit across his midsection.

As Chiaki stared, attempting to discern if it was a slash from a sword, the line separated revealing a set of vicious looking teeth. Her mouth dropped open in shock and horrified awe. She could not look away from the terrible sight as the tip of a writhing, red tongue tumbled over the teeth and out of the open mouth to noisily lap up the blood from his abdomen.

Although her mouth was wide open, no sound came from her. Her shaking legs gave out at last, folding beneath her to send her down to the flat stones paving a wide path to the shrine. Shock numbed her already abused body so she did not feel the pain for the moment.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" he asked himself, stomping toward the woman so scared out of her mind she could not even scream.

Chiaki panted open mouthed on the verge of hyperventilating. She had heard of a man eating monster lurking in these woods who had taken residence in an abandoned shrine. Some said he used to be a mortal man, a cruel and hateful murderer, Ryomen Sukuna. She thought the stories of the monster in the shrine were just the tales of superstitious old women and bored gossips - until now.

"How nice of my dinner to leave dessert at home for me," he mused, squatting down beside her to get a closer look.

Her eye that was not blackened and closed widened and shifted side to making her look completely mad with terror. She could feel his hot breath on her face. The odor of blood was so pungent she could taste the metal in her mouth. Her stomach tumbled uncertainly. She was too afraid to move to even vomit.

"Hmmm," he hummed pensively, his multiple eyes scanning over her body. "You've been tenderized. How thoughtful."

When he reached out to grab her neck with one massive hand, she scuttled backwards like a crab never taking her eyes off of him.

"Oh, a feisty one," he murmured in what seemed to be amusement, one corner of the mouth on his face quirking upward. His hand shot out fast this time, grabbing her wrist. Standing to his feet, he lifted her high in the air.

Chiaki unleashed an ear splitting scream as a white pain burned through her shoulder. She was sure he was about to rip her arm right off her body. Like with Naoya Zenin, she might go down, but she wasn't going down without a fight. Kicking out with both feet, she kicked Sukuna across the jaw with her right foot while her left foot contacted the middle of his chest between the points of his tattoo. She made sure to avoid that gaping mouth with the canine like set of fangs and lolling tongue dripping drool in his feet already muddy with a mixture of blood and dirt.

She shrieked again when another one of his hands grabbed her other wrist to keep her from spinning around and breaking her arm. She whimpered and gritted her teeth against the pain. She would not scream again to make his smile grow even wider. Closing her eyes to block out the horrific sight of him, she held her breath when he pushed his face close to hers to avoid smelling his rancid breath.

"You are quite the fighter. For a woman. Despite how hopeless your situation is, you continue struggle. Are you just too stupid to give up? How did you get all of these wounds?" When she did not not reply, he yelled, "Answer me!"

After issuing a whimper, her eyes flew open, the one only opening to a slit, and she stared directly into the two somewhat normal eyes. The color of his eyes reminded her of those of a white rabbit. He was far from timid, gentle, and non threatening.

"I refused to marry a man. I would not be just another servant in his household. Or his bed. So why don't you finish what he couldn't and kill me?" she snarled through her teeth, masking her fear with anger.

Sukuna threw back his head and laughed; mouth open wide, teeth bared, and laughed loudly. The tongue from his belly lapped out to lick her abdomen bared by the torn material. She shuddered, squeezing her eyes closed.

"I won't kill you."

When her eye popped open in surprise, Sukuna was smiling in her face.

"Yet," he added, expecting her to wilt like a flower in his hands.

"Yet," she repeated, glaring at him stubbornly. "How long?"

"Hmmm?" He tilted his head questioningly.

"How long will you allow me to live?"

"Seventy eight nights."

"Why seventy-eight?"

"Less if you annoy me," he growled, baring his teeth.

"Why seventy-eight?" she tenaciously asked for a second time.

Sukuna dropped her arms, holding her only by the waist. Chiaki inhaled sharply when she felt his fingers tighten around her waist. He could squeeze her in half with one hand, and her life would be over.

"Seven is a lucky number. You're lucky I'm letting you live," he reminded her, but she would debate if she were actually lucky. "Eight is a sacred number."

His fingers squeezed slightly, compacting her ribs and pressing her lungs which prevented her from inhaling. Her mouth dropped open to suck in a wheezing breath.

"Your life is in my hands. You will take every order I give you, every punishment. I am your god now. Understand?"

Every order? Every punishment? Maybe I should just die right now, she thought.

Sukuna's fingers flexed, squeezing harder. The burn of her shifting ribs and the ache in her starved lungs made her reconsider. Gradually asphyxiating while being squeezed in two would be a slow and tortuous death. He did not intend to kill her quickly.

Chiaki nodded frantically, her lungs aching in a way it conjured the image in her foggy brain of them popping like balloons. He loosened his fingers but did not let her go. She sucked in air so greedily she got choked and started coughing.

Sukuna looked up at the full moon. Dropping her onto the ground, he walked off.

"This is your first night. I'm going to bed. I'm tired," he yawned, stretching his four arms in all directions as he walked away from her. "Good night."

Good night, indeed, she seethed, her entire body throbbing from head to toe. How the hell am I supposed to sleep after everything that's happened. And now I'm being held prisoner by a sadistic cursed spirit.

As much as she wanted to wake up and all of this be a terrible nightmare, the pain in her body made it all too real. A soak in a clean, cold mountain stream would be lovely. She could relieve the pain and swelling as well as wash away the blood. But that would have to wait until morning.

Chiaki made her way into the shrine. Sukuna had stretched out on the floor on his back, all four of his hands folded under his head to act as a pillow.

"Where am I supposed to sleep?" she asked, standing beside his huge body taking up half of the shrine.

"Do you think I care?" he inquired. "Now shut up and go to sleep."

Chiaki shivered. It was cold, but not yet winter. Heat wafted off of him in waves, warming her as if she were sitting in front of a fireplace. She lowered herself to the floor, curling into a little ball with her back toward him; close enough to feel his body heat yet far enough away not to touch him.

"What are you doing?" he demanded to know.

"I was shutting up and trying to go to sleep. Those were my orders right?" she sassily countered.

"I didn't mean right beside me."

"You said you didn't care where I slept."

An extended and extremely tense silence followed. Tense on her part anyway. She fully expected to be swatted like an annoying fly and squashed into oblivion. At least it would be fast.

"Fine," he sighed, rolling onto his side with his back to her. "Suit yourself. If I roll over and crush you in the middle of the night, it's no one's fault but your own."

It was a chance she was willing to take.