Yami No Matsuei Fan Fiction ❯ Metallic Substitution ❯ One-Shot

Metallic Substitution

Yohko Matsushita, Hana to Yume Comics, and Hakusensha own Yami no Matsuei. I don't.

This was my first attempt at writing a Yami no Matsuei story (first uploaded in July 2001). I was going through some of my older work, and I realized that despite how much I hated it when I first wrote it, I like it. (Did that make sense? o_O) So, after over a year, I decided to revise it into something that's (hopefully) a bit better. I like to think the premise behind it is a bit original- most Muraki/Oriya stories are pre-Tsuzuki, or they're post-Kyoto, and hence Tsuzuki isn't a major factor in them. This is set during the early part of the Kyoto chapters of the manga.

Various spoilers. Suffice to say, if you don't know who Ukyou and Veronica are, you should be wary.

Don't ask about the title. It made sense to me at the time. (Oh, and if you're actually into drinking blood as some kind of kinky foreplay, I apologize in advance for the descriptions of how different blood tastes, as I've never tried it.)

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Blood.

Blood- dully metallic in his mouth, but still somehow seductive. There was something about the blood of a victim.... It was all basically the same, with the metallic, rusty taste from the same iron that made it so deliciously red- but there was sometimes a faint undertone to it, one that varied from person to person. Most of them, by far, had a salty taste to their blood, but a few were different.

Kurosaki, for example- he had only gotten the smallest taste of the boy's blood, but his beautiful little doll had been different. The metallic quality of his blood had overpowered everything else. By all rights, the doll's blood should have been an even deeper and more beautiful red, almost burgundy. He hadn't seen enough of it to find out- it was a pity that the curse was too strong to let him bleed. It would have killed a weakened person much sooner.

If Veronica had been alive, she would have been like Kurosaki. Looked alike, tasted alike, bled alike. Kurosaki had always reminded him more than a little of her.

His current victim, still alive for now, had a faintly sweet taste to her blood. She had dark hair and violet-tinged blue eyes- a poor substitute for the one he really wanted. She was to Tsuzuki what Veronica was to Kurosaki- a doll, an inanimate reflection.

Briefly, he wondered if Tsuzuki's blood would be sweet, too.

"Kazutaka." It was Oriya speaking to him. "Didn't I ask you not to kill in here? It leaves a dreadful mess on the floor."

He had never tried Oriya's blood before. It was strange- he would take that most intimate thing from total strangers, but never from the two people closest to him. Oriya and Ukyou knew what he did, had even seen it before, but had never been on the recieving end of those attentions.

"I haven't killed anyone in here yet." He said mildly, and looked up at the dark-haired man. "Have you ever tasted someone else's blood, Oriya?"

"No," Oriya drawled. "I thought I would leave that to you."

"Ah. Of course." Muraki all but purred. Blood contained the magical essence of a person, and so much unneeded energy could make him almost giddy if he wasn't careful. "I assume that you haven't, then?"

"Of course not." Oriya snapped, taking a step back. "Didn't I just say that?"

"It's quite underrated, I'm afraid." He drew his thumb delicately over the wound and stood up, turning to Oriya.

Oriya... if his vision were unfocused, the man looked a bit like Tsuzuki. The man had the dark hair, the golden skin, a slight similarity in the elegant features. Of course, the eyes were the wrong color, the hair too long... it ruined the image. Oriya was as poor a substitute for the one he wanted as the girl whose blood still spilled out onto the floor.

"Lovely...." He whispered, more to himself than to Oriya, more about the thought of Tsuzuki than the reality of Oriya.

Eyes more blue than violet stared at the ceiling, unblinking. She had died, the last of her blood under his feet.

Oriya didn't speak again, but simply looked at the blood on the floor distantly.