InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Crimson Chimera ❯ Poison Sake ( Chapter 1 )

Crimson Chimera

 

Chapter 1: Poison Sake

 

The rain dripped down from the grey clouds, soaking the earth with moisture and causing the smells of spring to saturate the air. The pitter patter went unnoticed as it bounced off the roofs of the houses, each identical except for one at the very top of the neighborhood hill.

 

The court of this house was paved with stone and outlined by a large black fence that curved delicately across the edges of the property. The branches of an incredibly large tree stood guard over the silver pathways, a testament to the power of nature and the mightiness of the absence of civilization. A small, plain house stood strong on one end of the court, followed by a few smaller buildings that served as storage shacks or small shrines dedicated lovingly to Kami, history sprawling back through the years.

 

Except for one.

 

One small hovel remained unkempt and in a shabby state of disintegration, mistreatment exposed by the mass of broken ceiling tiles and rotten planks of wood, once humble yet whimsically mysterious building now rendered to a hated, mistreated thing.

 

And the burning eyes that glared at it from the windows of the main house proved how loathed it was.

 

A hand shook furiously, causing a rattling sound to usher from its palm as it squeezed around a glass container, thumbnail scraping softly against the cork top. Black, dirty hatred was released from that grip, crystalline tinkling echoing throughout the immaculate room.

 

Her room. Her window. Her view of that damnable, horrid place.

 

Brown eyes gazed at the small vial in his hand, staring at the tiny rose-colored shard with distaste. His grip strengthened for a moment as a growl was ripped from his throat, only to be cut off by a heavy and frustrated sigh.

 

All because of this…this one little shard, this one little piece of crystallized magic that gleamed so innocently in the dim sunlight…How could such a small thing cause so much destruction?

 

Sure, he had heard the story: some crackpot tale about a miko who had given up her life to bind her soul with a powerful patchwork demon, imprisoning him and in consequence herself in that small pink sphere, doomed to an eternal battle.

 

That was what Grandfather believed. It was his tales of whimsy that eventually led to his doom…or so the police said when they found his body. Asphyxiation by smoke inhalation was what they had determined was his cause of death, as they found his lungs filled with some sort of black mist so thick that it lined the pink tissue of the organs with a sickly obsidian residue, making it seem as though he had been a heavy smoker on the verge of getting emphysema.

 

His body had been found surrounded by incenses and candles, plastered on him were various scripts scribbled with outdated magical symbols found only in card trick shops, slapped on so hastily that it seemed he had been panicked while applying them. It was almost as if he was trying to protect himself from someone…something…that had on so violently caught the old man off guard. And where exactly was his blue body found, back flat against the ground?

 

Why, the very same hut that the boy—now turned a young man—was leering at so hatefully six years hence.

 

Grandfather had followed in big sister's footsteps…or, at least, that was what he assumed. It only took Grandpa two years to land himself in the grave, buried beside her empty casket. Some believed it was an accidental suicide, caused by the man's extreme supernatural suspicious and paranoia.

 

The young man knew it was murder.

 

It was obvious in the old man's last expression, that look of absolute terror on his face in that dark little shrine. He could remember it well, how the geezer's eyes were clouded over by fear and his mouth was opened in one final scream.

 

It made him sick to think about it. Think about how the authorities brushed it off, how his classmates created cruel rumors, how his mother ignored the child's ramblings that he knew in his heart was the absolute truth.

 

The well had taken his sister and his grandfather; they would be next.

 

A crash echoed through the otherwise peaceful environment, sound of shattering glass pounding through his ears. It rocked him, sending waves of electricity buzzing down his spine as it propelled his feet forwards in panicked strides, long lean legs guiding him through the doorway of the room he had occupied, down the staircase and into the warm kitchen that should have smelled like cooking food.

 

“Mother…?” The young man's voice was muffled by the shirt collar he had covered his mouth with; blocking out the thick smoke that saturated the small room. He coughed thickly, lungs caught off guard by the billowing plumes of smaug that tasted and smelled unnervingly familiar.

 

His tearing eyes narrowed slightly as an outline appeared through the smoky screen, an oddly shaped lump that stood out from the purplish-black that surrounded him. He approached it slowly, malicious aura and midnight mist causing a sick feeling of dread in his stomach. A shivering hand reached out, fingers stretching to feel for the unknown lump in the middle of the fog.

 

The touch of cashmere met his fingertips, causing his bloodshot and irritated eyes to snap open. His fingers shifted through the alternating sake-covered flesh and broken glass in what felt like hands, disbelief and anguish, along with the thick poison in the air, making it impossible to even think of breathing.

 

No…it couldn't be…her…?

 

“M—mom…? MOM! NO!”

 

~*~

 

The dust gathered upon the swollen wood, mist seeping through the cracks of the rotting substance and filling the small space with an unsavory odor. Rain pounded against the ceiling, causing the soft sound of the pattering liquid to be amplified in the dark, dank space. Tendrils of the sticky, poisonous smoke that had crept into the kitchen of the main building oozed out of the pit, causing the intruder's rage to double.

 

A hand rested on the splintered frame of the door, brown eyes glaring into the darkened pit as bangs hovered above them, raven colored locks doing nothing to filter their intensity. A chest rose and fell in heated, enraged breaths as the grip upon the rain-soak substance tightened. A snarl rose to a pair of pale lips as dim milky light outlined its body, delicate in build though its stance was aggressive.

 

“You…”

 

The hut seemed to shake as a wavering voice, saturated with rage, penetrated the walls. Heavy breathing accompanied each word, footsteps smashing forward as bare feet stopped at the edge of the broken stairs.

 

“You…”

 

Tears drifted downward softly, hot liquid like fire on the young man's cheeks, lungs burning with the same fire that was a side effect of the deadly poison that had struck down the last of his family.

 

“YOU SON OF A BITCH!”

 

A roar managed to tumble from his throat, voice loud and booming though tainted with the stress of tears. The walls of the hut quaked fearfully at the sound, microscopic bits of fluff forced off their ledges and sent sprawling down onto the wooden floor. The soles of the young man's feet smashed against the surface of the creaking, rotted steps, causing noises of protest to rise from the points of impact, threatening to snap in two if anymore pressure was applied to the weakened areas. The wielder of these bone-crushing steps didn't seem to care, however, as he continued to marched angrily towards the target of his malice, fingertips curling around the worn edge and giving the impression that if the well were a living breathing thing, those fingers would be locked around its neck.

 

“YOU GOD-DAMN THING! I HATE YOU, I HATE YOU!” The fingertips clawed at the ledge, lips still raised in a snarl allowing words of absolute disgust to slip through the cracks of his teeth.

 

“This is YOUR fault! What makes you think that they all had to go?! What the fuck are we indebted to, huh?! Who made us slaves? Who made us some sort of fucking guardian to a myth, a legend?! YOU AREN'T REAL! YOU'RE DEAD, YOU SELFISH BITCH! Fuck prophecy and fuck the goddamn shards! You took her…you took Kagome and I KNOW you took my grandfather…but my MOTHER? WHY DID YOU HAVE TO TAKE HER TOO?!”

 

A fist smashed into the bark, causing the well to crumble upon itself once more. The young man's arm shook furiously as venomous tears dripped down his face. He didn't even notice the blood that started to drip from his palm

 

“All because of some stupid mistake…I don't fucking care what my sister did, and I don't fucking care about some stupid `Shikon jewel' or some `priestess' or some madman who's goddamn lust caused the world to crumble…It was THAT world, not MINE! YOUR world! I OWE NOTHING! And now I have nothing because of YOU!”

 

The young man crumpled into a heap, resting against the side of the wooden wall as he sobbed violently, cold realization creeping up on him as did the pain in his hand.

 

“Why...” he croaked, eyelids squeezed shut as his face began to burn. “What do you want from me…?”

 

A sudden force caused him to crash into the side of the well, violently knocking the wind out of him as he felt his ribs crack from the impact, unable to think or feel as coldness consumed him. A hand snaked around his neck, crushing his windpipe to further restrict his breathing as he was plucked off of the ground, legs fluttering around helplessly as he found himself staring into crimson irises.

 

Crimson…just like that day at his Grandfather's funeral, identical to the shadowy man whom had visited both of their graves that faithful day.

 

It was HIM…

 

“You want to know what I want from you, eh? You want to know what you have to do, Souta…?”

 

The same unsavory hungry smile spread across his pale lips, shaven face and tamed black hair masking his brutality, demonic presence shining though his unsettling, monstrous eyes. He brought Souta's face closer, vice grip on his neck not faltering in the least as the boy began to lose consciousness, though still held the shard that was now impaled into the skin of his palm.

 

“Bring about my retribution, poppet…” Was all he whispered, foul breath curling into Souta's nostrils before the boy was flung down the well's mouth, slipping away into black with the last memory of scarlet eyes and the putrid smell of blood and miasma…

 

Chapter 1: End.

 

Chapter 2: Optophobia

 

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Author's Note: Fweh…another chapter done, about time too. Hehe, sorry…been busy busy busy…Or maybe I've just been a lazy ass, the world will never know…

 

Nyao…I'm sure you're all confused, right? Sorry…gotta keep up the angst, eh? It will all be amended shortly, I promise. But for right now, I leave you with an embittered and bitchy Souta.

 

Disclaimer: All characters that appear in this fiction do not belong to me and are sole property of their creator.

 

Thank yous: I'd like to thank everybody who has reviewed so far for both their patience and their encouragement. It's really appreciated and needed, actually.

 

I'd also like to thank the flamer too, considering their flame was oh so amusing I giggled myself to pieces. Teehee.