Warning: Dark darkfic. Akito. Child endangerment, sexual situations involving a child, dub-con, D/s, violence, language, physical and psychological abuse.
The thing Akito hated the most was what Shigure loved the most.
She hated and he loved the vile maw of femininity. Girls and women, filthy bitches with their stinking monthly blood, their slimy gashes of mouths and cunts always open, their jiggling flesh, their weak bodies and weaker minds made Akito sick. They made her want to puke, but Shigure adored them. He adored her because she was one of them.
When she was younger, twelve and thirteen, she went to extremes not to be what her body forced her to be, not to be a woman. She had starved herself to bones. Her chest had been as flat and hard as a boy’s. No flesh hung from her, no blood came, but it was another thing that was killing her so she’d had to give it up. It left her so weak she could barely breathe.
Yet, even now, twenty years old and as fleshed out as she would ever allow herself to be, Akito was not strong enough. What nourishment she took was leeched away by the cycles of menstruation or stored in pads of fat in the curves of breast and hips and thigh that Shigure loved to touch. Womanliness stole her strength. Even without her illnesses, men would always be stronger than she was. Even a slender, wavering boy like Yuki was capable of physically overpowering her.
Shigure was stronger than she was, and she hated that. She hated that he could arrange her beneath him like a doll, hated that he entered her, hated most of all how much he loved it.
Whatever Akito hated, she tried to destroy.
She sent for him, and he came obediently. She had combed her hair back from her eyes, and the scarlet and black robe she wore clung to her body. Pathetic how happy these things could make him, how genuine his pleasure was, how eagerly he accepted her kiss.
“I have something for you,” Akito whispered invitingly. “Something you’ve always wanted.”
“You’re the only thing I’ve always wanted,” he said.
She laughed. She laughed and laughed and she only stopped because if she did not, it would turn into a bitter cackle, and that would cast an ominous note. That would ruin the surprise.
She took his hand. How much more substantial his hand was than hers, and how she hated that. She took his hand and led him into her bedroom.
“Close your eyes,” she said and he did. She took his hand and moved it over womanliness: the soft flesh of female, the warm mound of breasts and thighs, and the moist cleft of the pubis.
“Akito,” he said in adoration. “My raven. My Goddess.”
“Your God, dog,” she said harshly now. “You may open your eyes.”
Akito watched his face. Watched how his eyes widened when he saw the sleeping girl lying naked on the bed, when he realized it had not been Akito’s body he was touching but this other female form. Watched his surprise turn to shock and finally to horror as he recognized the girl’s face under the crude and whorish make-up Akito had caked on it.
“Kisa. That’s Kisa…” he said and nothing more. Gregarious as he was, Akito had struck him dumb. He drew his hand away from the girl, away from Akito’s grasp. He stared at his hand as if he did not know it any more.
Akito entwined her long pale legs, her hands, her arms, her fingers around him. She drew herself up on tiptoe; she whispered in his ear. “She’s yours, Shigure-kun. Your very own little girl to use however you like. My gift to you… Just what you’ve always wanted. I fixed her up for you. Isn’t she pretty? Isn’t she the dearest little slut?”
“She’s so still. What have you done to her?” Shigure asked. He backed away from the girl on the bed, but he couldn’t escape Akito.
“I gave her some pills. She’ll be still.” The knot of his tie, the buckle of his belt gave way beneath Akito’s fingers. He always wore a suit in her presence—a mark of respect—but she would have preferred him robed, like her. His formal, masculine clothing covered and protected him. She would let him have no protection. “What’s the matter? Are you disappointed? Did you want her to cry for you?”
“No,” Shigure said, his voice barely audible. He sounded so small. She loved how small he sounded. Her lips curled back in delight.
“I want to see you use my gift,” Akito said.
“I want you to fuck her. She’s ready for you. This is what you dream about. This is what all men want—an empty little doll just waiting to be filled.”
“Don’t do this, Akito.”
“You were so hard before. Why have you wilted? Don’t you like my gift? I’ll be angry if you aren’t happy to have the gift I’ve given so much thought.”
“Don’t say another word. I love you, Akito, and because I love you, I’ve stood by while you did terrible things. I’ve watched while you hurt people, but there are limits. Kisa is barely thirteen years old. This is vile, and if you say another word, if you take this any further, I don’t know if I can keep on loving you.”
“You want her,” Akito said, eyes shining with mad glee. “You don’t need to lie to me. I know what a filthy dog you are. I know you’d mount anything with a stench for female.”
“I’m leaving, Akito,” he said. “I’m going to leave here now and send for Kisa’s mother.” He turned and started towards the door. Only when he had almost reached it did she call out after him.
“Leave here,” she said, “and you’ll never be allowed back. Not in this bedroom, not into this body. Turn your back on me, and the gates of the Souma household will be closed to you forever.”
“Don’t do this, Akito,” he said.
She was stronger. He had said he would stop loving her if she didn’t stop. She had gone on. She had said she would stop loving him if he went on. He had stopped. She was stronger.
He came back to her. He sank to his knees before her.
“Do as I say,” she said.
“I can’t. Don’t ask me to.”
He kissed the arch of her foot. She picked up her whip. She smashed him across the face with its handle again and again. He took her foot in his hands and kissed the sole.
She flew at him with lash and pummel, tooth and claw. He was sprawled on her bedroom floor like a trampled chrysanthemum, dazed and bleeding. She straddled him and ground herself to climax after climax against the body she held dominion over.
She exhausted herself on him, finally coming to rest still on top of him, her bloody fingers hooked in his mouth. When she slept, he stirred; he stroked her dark hair once again, covering her face in disarray.
“My raven,” he whispered. “My crow. My precious monster. My dark and terrible God.” There was awe in his voice. “I lied. Nothing you do can make me stop loving you. In the end, you’ll destroy everything, and my love will be all you have. Who else could love a creature like you?”
Then he rose and went to the bed where Kisa still lay drugged and forgotten. She had not even been a part of it, though Akito would have let her be destroyed. As long as she was in Akito’s sphere, she would always be in danger. It would be better if they all went away and left Akito to him.
He wrapped Kisa in Akito’s discarded robe and carried her out, through the gardens and to her mother’s door.