The birds chirp eagerly in the early hours of the morning. The smell of wisteria wafted through the valley with pleasant and graceful ease. Gravel crunched as civilians flitted around, always in a hurry, always in a rush. They never had time to sit and enjoy what nature provided them with no price. They always moved with purpose, not a single one was spent in vain.
Knowing the true art of movement could save the life of one, or one hundred. People of the past truly mastered the art, yet their successors grew lazy. Now they live their lives in ignorance. Blissful unawareness to the corruption under their own nose. Some blame the demons that crawl in the night, but those who truly understand know that demons were once human too. Humans, greedy the day they were born into the world, wanting and needing. Some can truly not comprehend that the corruption is of their own making.
Yet there was no time to be selfish when those people started dying in the masses. When groups of innocent people start disappearing in the wake of night and the full moon it brings. Even those responsible for the corrosion deserve to be held responsible for the damage they've caused, not to just, disappear. This disruption caused concern. People grew fearful and denied any involvement of the outside world during the late hours of night. Those who were brave, or stupid enough, to venture outside during the fully risen moon found themselves following the same fate as their neighbors and friends.
Someone did take concern to the disappearances, and through swift action, called the most capable. Birds of black came with a message: "Gather, gather, " they chirped, "Master wants all Hashira gathered at Headquarters by the time of the Sun's peak. Attention, all Hashira at Headquarters by the Sun's peak. "
Nine total shadows swiftly moved to accommodate the command. Setting aside objectives or finishing their task at hand, the sun timed their appearance and called their names. Wisteria filled the noses of the nine shadows, a distant welcome of safety yet urgency. Grass and gravel crunched and collapsed under quick feet. The looming silhouette of the centre estate appeared in the distance.
Sound was the first to arrive, boastful and exuberant. His voice was a melody that Love was soon drawn to. Sound grew teasing yet questioning as Love blushed and hid. Insect was drawn to the sweet smell of Love and the melody of Sound. The little butterfly's stinging remarks were more fitting of a wasp as the volume of Sound lowered along with his wounded ego. Insect grew as sweet as Love in the blink of an eye, yet Flame was much too observant to watch the light glint in Insect's eyes glimmer. The roaring fire of Flame grew the Love and Insect close, welcoming their presence yet not burning them upon entry.
The warmth of Flame igniting the passion in Love drew Serpent close from his tree above. Gazing lazily upon Love with his own adoration in his queer eyes, Serpent hissed out to Love, garnering her attention. With his attention now moved, Flame welcomed Sound with the crackling of fire and flame.
Sound recognized the familiar rolling of Stone, and looked up just as they entered the garden. Flame crackled with Sound in acknowledgement to Stone in respect, and the honorable man greeted back pleasantly. Love drew near and nervously greeted Stone, and the unmovable man smiled and with kindness of his own, greeted back warmly. Rumbling storms drew close as Wind forced himself into the garden, blowing forcefully onto Flame and Insect. Unmovable Stone sheltered the dwindled fire and butterfly from the sheer force of Wind rampaged through the garden. Serpent hissed in displeasure, sheltering their scales behind leaves and branches.
Along with storms, rain follows close behind. Graceful Water flowed into the garden, dousing Flame and Stone with his presence. Finding his own place away from the group, Water settled by a puddle and stared off into the distance. Like a stream to a river, the slight touch of Mist floated into the garden. Slight to the touch and a gentle aura soothing the burns received by the harsh lashes of Wind. Sound blew out, easing the tense atmosphere with an exaggerated scale of chimes and drums. Love giggled and grew warm with passion of her own and for her compatriots.
The sound of the shoji doors sliding open paused all movement. Quick to act, all Hashira moved to kneel before their Master. Led out by his two daughters, the man gracefully glided onto the back porch of his estate overlooking his garden and his children. Tilting his head back, he basks in the feeling of the soft sun's rays upon his pale skin. Taking a breath of the crisp air, Kagaya-sama tilts his head back down and addresses his children with familiarity and a smile. Receiving a greeting in return, though some quieter than others, Kagaya grew serious.
"It has come to my concern that nearly dozens of civilians have begun disappearing in the villages up in the mountains. I'm sure some of you have heard of these concerns as well? " The man questions.
Receiving a few murmurs in agreement, he presses on, "It is my fear that a new, more powerful demon has been made and unleashed on the people of the mountains. It is clear to me the carnage that has been described to me in detail that this demon is thorough yet vengeful. "
In his pause, Kagaya overheard his stormful child curse the creatures of the night. Damning them all to purgatory. Though Kagaya had opinions on that statement alone, he chose to continue with his advice, "I want you all to be careful when treading the mountains and rocky landscape. It would pain me dearly if I get the news that one of my children is killed.
"Be vigilant. Have your guard up at all times. The villagers are fearful, and when civilians fear, they turn angry and confused. They become impatient and demanding. Until this situation is resolved, and this demon is killed and disposed of, I am assigning partners. " Kagaya decided.
Sensing the oncoming complaints, he lets his children air out their grievances for a moment. Hearing arguments and reasoning by few, outrage by a couple, silence by one, and simple agreement by a couple as well, Kagaya raises his hand and smiles when his children quiet down instantaneously. Keeping his hand up for a moment, he drops it and his expression softens further.
"Do understand my concern, my children. This demon is causing carnage unlike anything I've ever been in the presence of for quite some time. Only once have I overheard news of similar destruction, and it was the fate of sixty seven people buried after an unknown force bloodied every wall and door in a single night. The culprit was never found, and the bloody trail left by the perpetrator ended on a wooden bridge, then disappeared. I do not want one of you to share a similar fate. " Silence follows, and Kagaya could feel the reluctant acceptance coming from the people in front of him.
"Oyakata-sama, " Shinobu Kōchō, Kagaya's little butterfly graciously interrupted, "may I ask what groups we will be assigned to? I do have to say it would be highly illogical if we were to be paired with a partner completely out of our schedule. " The Insect Pillar had a gleam in her eye as she glanced at the Water Pillar, "I would surely feel sorry for anyone who has to partner with Tomioka-san, as he is so out of touch and always seems so alone."
Tomioka Giyu, Kagaya's intuitive Water Pillar, seemed to tense before gazing at Shinobu curiously while muttering, "I have friends… "
Kagaya hummed, "Please, Shinobu, act pleasantly with your comrades while in my presence. Instead, answering your previous question, I already have decided the pairings. "
His passive scolding seemed to sober the shortest Pillar quickly, as she bowed deeper in apology while muttering her 'sorry'. Appeased, Kagaya took a deep breath of the fresh air and crisp smell of wisteria before turning back to his precious children, "The pairings will be as I call them out. No, I will not change my mind.
"Sanemi-san, Shinobu-san, I trust you two to work together and keep each other out of trouble. '' Sanemi grumbled and Shinobu grew a tick mark with the slightest twitch of the lip. Nonetheless, they stayed civil, for now, and gave no qualms.
"Uzui-san, can I entrust Muichiro-san in your care? " The Sound Pillar perked up and gazed over at the young teen lazily gazing up at the clouds. Humming, Uzui proclaimed boastfully that no challenge was too hard for the Sound Pillar to achieve. Tokito blinked, looking Uzui once over before asking who he was. Exhaling, Uzui received a round of sympathetic chuckles and giggles from his fellow Hashira.
Turning with a pleasant smile adorning his face, Kagaya proceeded with his assignment of partners. "Iguro-san, I'm sure you would have no qualms with partnering with Mitsuri-san, is that correct? " The Serpent Hashira slowly looked up at the blushing and waving Love Pillar and nodded. His heterochromatic eyes glittering in appeasement, appreciation clear on the portions of his face that were visible. Mitsuri was bouncing in her seat, happily gushing and raving how fun it would be to be around the Serpent.
Kagaya chuckled, pleased with himself and his ability to appease yet tease his children, especially the love sick ones. Turning to his strongest, Kagaya regarded Gyomeo with a smile, "I can trust Gyomei-san to be vigilant and safe. "
The Stone Hashira blinked as tears gathered in his ghastly eyes and fell down his cheeks. Bowing to his master, Gyomei accepted the responsibility humbly.
Noticing the lack of remaining partners, Rengoku, the fiery Flame Pillar smiled encouragingly at the aloof Water Pillar who kept his gaze down. Receiving pitying glances from his comrades, Rengoku brushed the looks off coolly before bowing back towards his master. Kagaya nodded, "As I'm sure you can tell at this point, Rengoku-san, I entrust both you and Tomioka-san to be careful and mindful of each other. Is that understood? "
Both answered accordingly at the same time. Having spoken his peace, Kagaya left with one last piece of information. The pairs of Hashira were to patrol different sections of the villages they were assigned, and after completing any mission within that area, would immediately send a report back to Headquarters. With final goodbyes, the Hashira stood up to leave, or to meet up with their respective partner and discuss future plans.
That was something Rengoku was about to do before being approached by Shinobu. With his arms crossed and his normal and exuberant smile abroad his face, Kyojuro received a pitying pat on the bicep from the short woman. Shinobu giggled behind her hand with little humor, "If you ever need a break from Tomioka-san, please do not hesitate to come to me. I have enough herbs stocked up for headaches in case of emergency. "
Hearing a scoff to the side, Rengoku turns to see Shinazugawa standing alongside Obanai as they both glanced at the Fire Hashira over their shoulder. The albino male rolled his eyes, "I already have a headache and I wasn't even assigned his partner. If I had been, I might have killed him myself. My condolences, Rengoku, maybe the partnership will end up in flames as well. "
Finding no humor in the other's harsh teasing, Rengoku stood strong, "I do not find your attempts at jokes amusing, my friends. Tomioka-san is not as bad as you portray, so Shinazugawa, " Kyojuro leveled the Wind Hashira with a look, "if you threaten a fellow Pillar's life in the future, I might just have to report this behavior to Oyakata-sama. "
Growling, Sanemi hissed, "Snitch, " before roughly bumping past Iguro and making his way out of the garden, Shinobu hot on his trails. Rolling his mismatched eyes, Obanai followed an abashed Mitsuri out of the gardens as well. With all of the fellow Hashira now no longer present, Kyojuro turned to where he expected Tomioka-san to still be, but was met with a disappearance act instead. With his next statement cut off, Rengoku looked around frantically just to see the edge of the Water Pillar's haori disappearing through the gate of the Master's estate on the other side of the garden.
Hurrying after his newfound partner, Rengoku quickly caught up to the Pillar and loudly greeted the other. Seemingly startled, Giyu turns to Rengoku, only to share eye contact for a moment before looking down without a word of acknowledgement. Figuring his work was cut out for him, Rengoku smiles and brushes off the nonchalant behavior and starts to inquire on further plans of action. All the while, Tomioka uttered no words in return for Rengoku's valiant efforts.
Meanwhile, another figure noticed the carnage created by the new individual. Their attention, unlike a certain human's, was pulled by the sheer efficiency and accuracy the individual showed through their way of killing and consuming. Admittedly impressed, they gazed through the individual's senses that were responsible for the genocide of the village and hummed at what he saw. A beast, one of pure vengeance and rage, sheltered itself from the blasted glowing body in the sky within a cave in the snow capped mountains. Their hands were covered in chipped and cracked remains of human blood and they eagerly licked away the remains from razor-like talons.
Opening velvety red lilly eyes, the Demon King considered his next options. Sensing the power the new found demon possessed, the Demon King knew their power rivaled those of his lowest followers. Giving them an Upper moon status would clear them of their crazed instinctive mindset, and would put them further under his command. Though depending on the order of which the demon ranks at, it might cause discourse in the rankings.
Glaring down at the platform below his stage, the King sent a signal to his loyal Upper Moon four followers to summon all Upper Moon kizuki to the Palace. Immediately following his command, he could hear the strum of the biwa behind him. The presence of the six kizuki soon appeared all at once within the Palace as he ordered.
Nakime strummed her biwa, and Akaza appeared at the foot of Muzan's porch. Gazing around, the sly hand of Douma appeared wrapped around Akaza's shoulder. Humorously greeting his fellow demon compatriot, Akaza grew agitated at the Upper Moon Two's aloof and ignorant behavior. Striking the higher ranking oni's jaw clean off, Muzan raised an eyebrow as the taller demon's jaw regenerated and he laughed carelessly. Going in for another strike, Akaza's wrist was grabbed by a thick and calloused hand. Drowning Topaz eyes snapped to the first Upper Moon with shock and surprise.
Scolding Akaza for his disrespectful actions, Kokushibo lets go of Akaza's wrist before turning to his Master. Bowing deeply, Muzan hummed and watched as the other six kizuki became aware of his presence and positioned themselves in a deep bow accordingly.
Nodding to himself, Muzan looked down upon his followers, "It has come to my attention that a new demon has been introduced to my horde. What has caught my attention however, is that this demon is capable of slaughtering an entire village in one night. "
This caught the other's attention. 'How could one demon kill an entire village of humans? ' They thought inwardly.
Muzan hummed, "That is exactly what I was inquiring about. As well as, why this oni would have Kokushibo's blood coursing through their veins. "
Unable to hold themselves back, all of the Upper Moon kizuki turned to Kokushibo in astonishment. Daki, the little thing, snapped towards Kokushibo in surprise. In her shrill voice, she gaped, "You rarely ever give your blood to humans to change them into one of us! Why is this human so different?! "
Muzan hummed, "Exactly what I was wondering… "
Kokushibo remained stoic as he collected his thoughts on how to answer. The oni finally gathered his mind, "I found the human in the mountains. He was three-quarters to the top, in shape fatal to any human. He was running from something, seeking safety in the mountains, creating space between himself and whatever caused him his condition.
"Losing blood quickly, I found him collapsed in the snow. Even in his condition, he tried valiantly to continue. I found his determination admirable. When examining him further, I found his spirit had not dwindled. Within his eyes he was fighting, begging for another chance. He wanted vengeance for his downfall, and to curse those who sought to smite him. " Kokushibo finished his monologue.
The Demon King stood in the silence that followed, thinking deeply. Coming to a decision, Muzan turns back to his loyal followers, "I see. Due to the power coursing through this demon's veins, I have decided to invite this demon to the Upper Ranks. "
Incredulous looks were thrown towards Muzan, and if these demons were any lower in rank, Muzan would have had their head for it. Nonetheless, these demons had him and him only. They're lives depended on Muzan, so they would never dare defy him. However, Douma hummed thoughtfully, "Dear, oh dear, what rank would they be placed in, Muzan-sama? "
The Demon regarded Doma's question thoughtfully, "Due to this oni's power and instinctive determination to survive, I believe a duel should be appropriate to estimate. "
Akaza perked up, "A duel, Muzan-sama? Who would this demon fight first? "
"Let's invite this demon to the Palace first, Akaza. " Muzan responsed.
Embarrassed from being found too excited by his Master, a faint pink blemish found its way upon Akaza's cheeks. Mouth thinning to a line, Akaza shouldered off Doma's teasing remarks and half-hearted attempts at encouragement.
Sending the command to Nakime, the oni woman strummed the strings of her biwa and created an open stage in front of the Upper Moons. The six kizuki felt the floor move underneath them, letting it pull them a way aways to instead lift an extra stage up from below to create a duel ring. Being a story above the stage, the Kizuki and Muzan had a clear vantage point to watch over the arena.
Connecting once more to the demon in question, Muzan senses their impatience and hunger. Concentrating on that feeling, Muzan pulls at the presence, commanding it and manipulating it. When the aura of fury and shock becomes sold within the area, Muzan opens his blood lilly eyes and gets his first look at the new comer. Simply, Muzan was impressed.
The oni stood in the center of the area growling and glaring at every corner of the lowered stage. Calculating eyes the color of dark honey searches every corner. Impressive ivory horns the shape of a Sika deer's antlers lay upon his head; strings with beads, pieces of bone and nichirin blades, and wind chimes lay tied to the antlers. Every turn of the head enlisted a sharp clink of the miscellaneous objects tied up in place. Long, unruly onyx hair as dark as night fan over sturdy shoulders and reach their mid back end in blood red tips. Adorning their body were shreds of clothing soaked in dried blood from their earlier scavenges; hakama pants torn at the ends miscolored from grime and blood with a tattered haori leaving nothing to the imagination of the upper body.
Daki licked her lips as her eyes scanned the oni below, enjoying every ripple skin and flex of muscle. What caught most of their attention, were the markings covering the body of the demon. Intricate lines and swirls of red that disappeared past the hakama pants, likely continuing even lower. Every piece of the demon excited Daki.
Done with his examining, Muzan turned to Kokushibo. "So this is the oni, " At the sudden voice above them, the demon snapped their head back to level Muzan with a questioning gaze. Good, at least they weren't ignorant enough to disrespect him with a glare, "that you had given as second chance. "
Upper Moon One nodded, "Indeed Master, " turning to gaze down at the oni, they locked gazes, "this is him. I hope you excuse this oversight, but I took it upon myself to rename this demon. "
Muzan rose a perfectly manicured brow, "Oh? And what would that be? "
Kokushibo glanced down at the oni before looking back up to Muzan, "I named him Yasha Akuma. "
Hearing his name called, the demon turned to Kokushibo and gave a slight chirp. Nodding in acceptance, Muzan simply acknowledged the name before agreeing the name was fitting. Gazing back down at the new found Yasha, Muzan addressed the demon.
"Yasha Akuma, " Gaining the gaze of darken honey, Muzan hummed, "you have been very busy since your turning. How many humans have you consumed? "
Yasha snorted, taking a moment to count before answering, "Approximately three hundred and sixty eight humans…Master. "
Muzan rose a brow at his six kizuki, especially those of lower ranking, who have only eaten a portion of three hundred in itself. Giving sheepish expressions in response, Muzan turned back to Yasha, "You have been called here for a reason. Your power surpasses few of my highest ranking oni, and you have been selected to test your strength against them for their titles. "
Giving a sharp glare at the six kizuki, Muzan cut off the outraged and complaining remarks surely to be thrown his way. Seeing the words die in their throats, Muzan harrumped before turning back to the gaping oni below. Yasha glanced over at the six kizuki, examining them from his own view before turning back to Muzan, "Which one shall I duel with first? "
Muzan smirked, "Daki, I saw you eyeing Yasha moments before. How would you fair against him? "
Daki gazed down at Yasha through calculating eyes. Grunting, Daki called upon her brother. Gyutaro answered his sister, crawling out of her back and falling into a kneel of his own. Some of the lower ranking six gagged while others turned away from the sight.
Gazing down at Yasha, Gyutaro scoffed. Hissing, Yasha snarled at the sibling demons. Gyutaro turned to Muzan and answered confidently, "This will not be an issue. "
Jumping down from the observing stage, Gyutaro landed with a thump on the stage below. Yasha growled and backed up to the wall behind him. Jumping down alongside her brother, Daki landed on his shoulders and possessively guarded her brother's back with her sashes.
Yasha too slid into a fighting stance. It was sturdy and strong yet light and airy. The oni's talons extended three knuckles in length, glistening off the lights inside the Infinity Palace. His fangs too sharpened and lengthened. A deep red tongue shot out of Yasha's mouth, tasting the air no doubt. Daki cringed and hissed at the disgusting view.
Muzan hummed, "With the chosen opponents at the ready… "
Yasha growled low in his chest. Gyutaro cackled and clenched his sickles in his hands.
Nothing good comes when it snows. People say it's beautiful, but pretty things are almost always the most dangerous. Snow was cold, it covered the ground in an ironic blanket of frozen water, when a blanket was supposed to keep you warm instead. People take for granted how lucky they are; to have warmth, or a blanket. They don't see the wonders right in front of them. The snow covers the ground in a white sheet, and it's nearly impossible to find anything if it falls in the white void. There was a new color now. It was deep, rich crimson, and the faint smell of iron stuck up the sharp cold air. It burned. As it hit the snow the red bled through the white and slowly made it turn pink. It littered the snowy carpeted ground in sections, some darker than others. It was dark, so dark, deep and black. He couldn't see anything besides white, watery red, and black. The falling snow stung his eyes and the freezing air scraped his lungs like daggers. Skin blistered and scarred with freezer burn and open wounds dragged him further down, and there was no light on the other side for him to see. It was only snow.
A soft thump echoed through the vast mountain scape. The howling wind carried the sound and deafened it all the same. A body laid prown in the snow, the snow becoming a watery grave. Ragged breathing came from the shallow grave. White snow slowly turned red and pink as its pristine white color became tarnished with coppery red blood. One hand stuck through the fallen snow that was as pale as the ground around it. Fingertips changing a bloodless white, pearls of blood slid down nailless fingers and into the pink snow. A slight twitch from the thumb was the only indication of life still beating in the body of the prown figure. But the life flowing through the living corpse was slowing down and coating the ground in red.
A wordless whimper floated up from the crater. The hand numbly moved from its place buried in the snow to press flatly against the ground, leaving an imprint underneath a bloody palm. Heaving itself up from the ground, clumps of snow slid off a blood and torn haori and stuck to frozen hair. Onyx black hair sprawled around the snow, blood red tips blended in with the corrupted pristine snow while the black showed starkly.
The tarnished material of the haori grew dark and damp from the snow melting into the fabric. It no longer provided any sense of warmth to the figure wearing it, but it was a layer keeping in what little body heat remained nonetheless. Shivers wracking the being belonging to the haori grew harsh. Its body tried valiantly to warm itself up, but it was all useless in the end, as its core temperature slowly cooled due to the loss of blood and harsh weather. Getting to their shaky knees, the figure pushes itself up only to buckle and collapse face first into the snow. Coughing weakly, blood sprayed and spattered the snow. Clenched fists shook weakly as they once again pressed into the snow. Blood traveled down beaten biceps with thick gashes and covered the fisted hands. Slipping, the body fell with another thud and a second round of wet coughing followed soon after.
Once the coughing stopped and the figure's breathing became too weak, the determination that once fueled the being to keep fighting slowly slipped away along with its precious blood into the snow. The rise and fall of the figure's chest became shallow and slow, strained. Waves of black hair fanned around the body's head and covered the neck and shoulders. The pain once felt by the being slowly eased away to numbness. The wounds made up of gashes, scrapes, punctures, and burns were now irrelevant to them. Frayed and cut nerve endings no longer sent signals to the brain, warning about wounds and the concerning loss of blood. Nausea ate at the figure's stomach, but there was nothing to bring up except the blood pooling in the back of their mouth. Losing themselves to the cold numbness, the limp body grew ever colder.
A slight crunch caught the attention of the living corpse. The sound is so similar to snow pressed under the weight of a snowshoe. Shakingly, the being that lay in the snow looked up, and hazy ombré eyes met the gaze of six unrelenting blood red and hamlin eyes. The blood loss must have made their vision fuzzy, the dying figure guessed. Yet the weighing pressure from the aura surrounding the figure standing above them was none that of a human's. A crispy, deep voice was growled out of the person above the prown body, " How pitiful, " the voice was definitely that of a man's, "had I not smelled your blood from a mile's distance, I would not have seen you here. Left alone to die a bloody and dishonorable death in the cold. "
The man knelt down, closer to the body's level. The oppressing aura grew closer, and the figure in the snow heaved at the weight pressing down on them at all sides. Not a single breath could escape or be pulled into the figure's lungs, for they had shriveled in the wake of man towering above. Reaching out, a cold hand grasped the bruised throat of the vulnerable body and lifted them from the snow with ease.
Blood choked the lifted body, and trails of the coppery red liquid slithered onto the hand of the person who held them from the mouth and lips. Choking, a stuttered cough was attempted, only to stain the arm attached to the hand that ceased the figure's air supply. Clumps of suggy red snow fell from the body as they were lifted from the ground, feet airborne and not touching the snow below foot. The voice spoke up once more, "Even though you lasted this long within these harsh conditions of the mountains in your state, you must be strong in your own regard. "
Upon closer inspection, the man could tell multiple things about the corpse he found while wandering in the mountainous terrain. They had onyx black hair, almost as dark as the clouded over sky above them that ended in red tips the same color as the blood coating their pale skin. Defiant dark amber eyes stared back at him through the haziness that their blood loss brought upon them. He was thoroughly intrigued.
The figure choked on blood in response. Huffing in contempt, the man dropped the corpse and watched as they hit the ground with a muffled thud. Kneeling once more to their level, the tall male watched them for a moment before reaching out. Fingertips amidst talons stroked the pale skin of the breathing corpse's cheek. The touch of the man's thumb stroked pleasantly over the freezing cold skin, mapping out shapes that were not there.
Humming to himself in a clear indication of agreement to the unvoiced thoughts of his own, the hand halted any further stroking. Instead, six eyes of blood and gold found a peculiar gash along the side of the dying human's arm. Reaching for it, without a moment's hesitation, dug his thumb into the shredded open wound.
A piercing scream flooded the mountain tops. One that came from an animal in agony begging for death or release. It shattered any peace the mountain had known only moments before. It broke into sobs and hiccups before reaching new levels an octave higher. The limp body now knew levels of strength it did not know before, like it had been unlocked in its time of great pain. Writhing and shaking with ragged gasps for air, shaky yet desperate hands grabbed and clawed at the wrist belonging to the man currently creating the person's pain.
Yet the perpetrator inflicting the pain paid no mind to the futile attempts at dislodging his hand. Instead, he drew the shapes he had created earlier upon the body's skin in their own blood. Tears fell down the body's cheeks, yet they did not reach the new markings as the monster above him refused to let the salty liquid disturb the new shapes.
Once done, the figure reached up to their palm and cut a slice through their own skin, watching as their blood beaded through the cut. With their mouth open to increase the amount of air taken in in the wake of the sudden onslaught of pain, the being pressed their bleeding palm to the dried tongue of the human below him. Choked off cries of protest followed, but the dark creeping edges of black in their vision and the sudden wave of exhaustion halted their desperate escape attempts.
"You will thank me when you are reborn. You will be stronger, faster, and under the tutelage of my Master, you will become unstoppable, " The figure above the human proclaimed.
Just as they were about to succumb to the black edges of unconsciousness, the human's vision cleared and their roasted honey eyes met those of blood and gold. The everclear kanji for One stared back at them.
"Your name is no longer relevant, as you will never be what it represents again. Instead, you will become something better. Your name must be better, for that name will be cried out in tears and blood.
" You will now be known as Yasha Akuma. Demon of the third moon, and painter of roads in red. "
With one final breath, the figure closed their eyes and black welcomed them with open arms. This was warmth, and he will forever bask in the heat of his shadowy blanket.
You guys, I just had the BEST Hunger Games fanfic idea. And by “best,” I mean angst-ridden, heartrending, meta awesomeness.
So imagine this fic, and it introduces you to like, five of the tributes, all from different Districts. You get to know them and their families and their harsh lives and start to root for them. They get Reaped and then are off to the Capitol for the opening ceremonies.
Imagine seeing some of the interviews with Caeser Flickerman, the initial alliances forming, the reason some of them score low and high on their assessments, others remain hidden.
(All the while, the readers are asked to provide comments, who your favorite tribute is, who the deadliest combatant is, who you dislike the most. who doesn’t stand a chance at the Cornucopia, which characters you think are cute together…)
And then we’re into the Games. And it gets brutal. But after each chapter, the readers are encouraged and asked to comment. And these comments start subtly affecting the story. Characters that are shipped together, even those currently with feelings for a different character, are conveniently forced into proximity. The three in a love triangle get shoved together. The tribute who is the most hated is kept alive by Gamemaker interference, the tributes who are liked by the readers stay alive with timely sponsor gifts.
(keep commenting, keep sending in asks about the remaining tributes, keep sending in the stuff you like and who you care about and who you hate…)
Slowly the pool of tributes whittles down. Some chapters are about survival, some are alliance intrigues, but the combat scenes are the most ruthless, the most brutal. They start and end abruptly, a jarring reminder of what the Games are - these are kids killing each other for entertainment - but then you get hit with another segment that’s fluff and maybe a little triumph or something - a character enjoys a good meal from the sponsors or gets a weapon.
Abruptly, we start getting chapters of Capitol commentary. Betting rounds, people forming little internet squads in support of a tribute, big ad campaigns based on the Games, nervous mentors desperately haggling to keep their charges alive, brokering everything they can give - and some of the Capitol people restate word for word some of the earliest comments on why they’re rooting for a tribute. Asks that get sent in sad about certain deaths are restated here. And right now people think it’s a cute little audience payoff and nobody quite gets it just yet…
We’re down to maybe the final six (remember, we started with twenty-four) - it’s most likely at least one of our POV characters has died - maybe a brutal depiction of exposure or being taken out by the “villain” tribute. Which is when they start doing the home interviews. Now we get to meet the families of the tributes we don’t have POVs of. We see the “villain” has an adorable younger sibling who just wants their big sib to come home and hug them again because they used to cuddle and now they don’t sleep well at all - parents that proclaim how proud they are of their child in big false smiles, makeup barely hiding the dark circles under their bloodshot eyes.
NOW it gets even more brutal/emotional/heavy. The Captiol commentary cuts off for now - we’re back, submerged in the little microcosm that is the Game, and the tributes are getting pushed closer together, forced that way by the Gamemakers.
There’s a vicious fight, people run away, but two or three tributes go down. We’ve got a final three situation. Hopefully that leaves us with two POV characters who have not had contact with the other and the “villain.” When that chapter ends, we get the two POV characters facing off, and the audience must then decide who will win. This time there’s no asking for comments, no desire for asks or commentary, just a “decide who will win.” Maybe it doesn’t hit yet.
That character wins in a thrilling, epic final combat appropriately set-dressed and with unexpected Games thrills added in. The forest bursts into flames, perhaps, or giant eagle muttations force the characters to fight for the last bit of cover, or a flood locks them into a final battle, all depending on what is liked most about a character. If they’re resourceful, that is given the chance to shine and lets them win, if combative, if persuasive, etc.
The character comes out of the games and reality hits hard. They have blood on their hands. And they have to be happy about it or else they and everyone they love will be punished. They flinch at the recap video, and then the audience punishment begins. The comments start getting repeated again but this time, the writing shows exactly how this affected everything. How YOU, the reader, are responsible for each death. The votes get tallied up for things the readers didn’t even know they were voting for, because sometimes the tribute YOU most liked got sabotaged by the Gamemakers for dramatic effect. Sometimes the love triangles or ships YOU liked got forced into occurring. Even which characters met their deaths at the hands of the “villain” was because of YOU. It’s really laid on thick to get the point across - during the whole fic, the readers were the Capitol and the author was the Head Gamemaker, crafting this story to their liking and using these characters, these kids, as living props to be disposed of.
The Victor breaks down crying when alone, lost and brokenhearted. Even worse if they were in one of those love triangles and found out it was a Gamemaker fabrication. Basically just a complete deconstruction of all the tropes used in the story for dramatic effect and a powerful and horrifying conclusion.
Bonus ideas: Regular polls that seem just like the author wanting feedback but are just fuel for the above meta pain.
Revealed interviews that you didn’t see originally that shows your favorite characters in a different light (the sweetest cinnamon roll you all loved is shown to be a ruthless manipulator; the broody tribute was playing a character to try and get sponsors, etc)
Final scene where the Victor directly addresses the reader for their “role” in the Games.
Bonus speculation on having to meet the families of the tributes and their mentors… especially having to meet that little sibling of the “villain” tribute who will never see their big sib again…
this is so so important to me and mine, and I'm asking you to Do Something so I'll respect your time and keep it brief
in the UK, if 100k sign a a government petition it will be brought to Parliament and debated. y'all know this country is suffering from some 80s-style bigotry right now, and this is one symptom: almost 200k fuckholes have come together to force the government to discuss whether it is 'appropriate' to tell children that queer people exist. this is a big symbolic victory for them. and i am burning with fury.
please, if you're from the UK, sign this counter-petition so they can at least see how much of a minority they are. simply put, the attempt to put these bastards in their place isn't gathering enough steam. there are barely 2000 more signatures now than there were this morning (27th January 2023), and that isn't enough. i refuse to let these people feel even a moment of victory or satisfaction. please help.
Reblog if it's okay for people to come into your askbox and ask about your OCs
Even if I’ve never spoken to them, even if I don’t know them from a hole in the wall, even if they’re on anon, people asking questions about my OCs make my day.
