#hellsgaze

"And Ena. I have something to say to you." His voice lowered to something soft, yet somehow sharper than any blade. " I don't know what's going on in that head of yours, but it will only bring you disappointment if you hope to have a life like theirs."

ena's heart pounds. the blade, her junior, the poor girl half-conscious and barely able to beat her adolescent fists against upper two's grip on her. her head spins through countless strategies, countless scenarios and in all of them, she doesn't close the gap in time. even exerting her high speed to go higher, she knows that her father is faster. the spring hashira is at the mercy of his words, and worse, his gaze, which gouges where the blade of his tongue won't cut.

each word is like a sucker punch, taking the wind out of her lungs with each strike. ena thinks about her position in the corps, how going home with her brothers meant moving into a world of secrecy, of shame in herself. though her family would never abandon her, though their oddities bring them together in ways that no one can match, the corps doesn't care about any of that.

a life like theirs.

it could mean anything, but she knows what he means. she can never be human. she can never live as a human. she can never be one with her comrades and will always be a distant thundercloud haunting them. her bonds will never matter, because to a human, she is something disgusting and incomprehensible. these are all things that ena knows, has known, from the moment she trained to become a demon slayer — but hearing the man she looked up to most growing up, the man she called papa say it only hammers the fact in deeper.

her lips flatten. the junior's blood that splashed onto him sharpens, and like chakrams, cleave the wrists from his arms. the junior is caught as ena darts forward and catches her. time moves slowly, almost, as she passes him, as she casts a hardened (yet still, there is sorrow there, isn't there, like a child scorned?) glare sidelong at naraku.

" go to hell. "

A soft smile comes over the man’s lips. Tired eyes look up as Amane leaves the two be. Let them talk alone and as much as they wish.

“Come my dear child. Have a seat” he says as a light hand gestures for him to come closer. His hand trembles slightly with his illness but is soon placed back in his lap as he continues to smile. It’s kind and proud, like a father’s happy to see their children.

to eat, yes. certainly so.

A crimson mire, bordered by sharp black rocks and littered with skeletal remains, long picked clean of their flesh.

A hunting ground.

The air had grown thick as tar. There was no cool breeze to soothe Inosuke's senses, the flow of air crawling to a halt within the confines of the Castle, trapping slayers and demons alike in its confines like a dormant beast slumbering after a feast.

Inosuke explored the beast's bowels with a growing sense of unease. Each twist and turn of the corridors seemed to take him deeper into the fortress, until he could no longer tell if there even was an outside world to return to. The weight that pressed down on his chest increased with each step he took, thousands upon thousands of floors above, beneath, around him, threatening to crush him alive.

There was no beggining. There was no end. No deciding where his steps would take him next.

As the ground opened up beneath his feet, Inosuke expected to feel relieved. Finally, some fresh air! He foolishly thought, until it reached him.

The immense, suffocating pressure.

It clung to his limbs like a spider weaving its cocoon around its prey. Inosuke hardly felt his body hit the ground, the air already knocked out of his lungs, his limbs turning to lead. He pushed himself up on shaking arms and gasped for breath, his heart drumming to his ears.

The desolate landscape left little doubt as to where he had fallen. The remains of meals long devoured, devoid of any flesh - yet Inosuke could feel their pain rippling across his own skin, needles sinking into his epiderm all over, alerting him of an overwhelming danger.

This was the belly of the beast.

Inosuke found the strength to stand, twin blades locked in unsteady hands. He had been in this situation before - cornered, hunted down, his back against the stone walls of a cave that he thought would be a refuge. Only this time, he wasn't a defenseless child. This time, he couldn't count on some trick of fate to rescue him from the predator's maws.

He would have to take the monster's head with his own two hands.

Now no one can say he was a rude guest.

"You have a fondness for trinkets and baubles. Call it an offering."

The silver catches a gleam of artificial light as it flies through the Confession Room and lands directly into Upper Two's waiting palm. He turns, his towering form overshadowing the follower girl that had held the privilege of his company tonight. Upon the stranger's arrival, however, all that elation and excitement in her features curls into a wary pout - the whites of her eyes widen with the sight that comes next.

Dōma spends a moment examining the bloodstained trinket into the light. The gem at its center is sure to be some sort of emerald, while the rim is gilded with true silver that lightly burns to the touch. Nichirin infused, perhaps? A thick dribble of red trickles between his fingers - leaving a single drop on the floor when the demon lifts it to his lips and slowly slips it into his mouth. It clicks against his teeth as he rolls it into his mouth, audibly savoring the taste with a hum before pulling it back out by its chain. There. Now it's cleaned. His attention turned to Naraku, streaks of red still connecting his protruding fangs, and when he was done tasting the specimen, he finally spoke with a cheerful tone.

❝ My, my — what a deliciously formidable catch; and in spite of your age... you must have had a lot of fun batting them around. And yet you barely look depleted! ❞ Dōma's provocative backhanded compliments were interrupted by the girl next to him breaking into a scream upon realizing what she had just witnessed. The demon was quick to place a heavy hand on her shoulder, frigid enough to freeze her into place. His sultry demeanour was instantaneously replaced with an impression of compassion that could rival that of saints.

❝ Oh, was that too much for your poor soul, sweetling? Awh. Come here... Let me ease your suffering. ❞ The warmth in his voice never touched said soul, however. Her body was already rigid with fear, shivering quelled when he pulled her face into his pecs with a pout. Her skin slowly started to diffuse into the fabric of his shirt, and the arms that had reluctantly reached out to him in desperate confusion soon melted into his sides. It was no wonder she never managed another word. In the span of seconds, the lie she had built all her life and hopes upon ever since coming to that temple, had been revealed before her eyes. Such a thing would be hard to stomach for any fragile human heart.

❝ Hush now. There's no need to trouble your little mind any more~ ❞ Dōma's purr was not at all the reassurance he had meant for it to be - a deep rattle shook his chest as it opened up to accept the offering of flesh and swept away any illusion of platitude that he had hoped to create. Her head jittered, glued to his chest, in an ultimate hopeless attempt to detach from the demon that was pulling her to her death. A moment later, Dōma was kneeling dutifully on the floor and assuming the usual jubilant charade. He seemed satisfied with the gift, which he proceeded to hold up to his chest as though testing it out on himself. The emerald did not match his cool toned outfit at all.

❝ It's always nice to come across something pretty; I don't stray from my temple often, as you know. The humans would become too nervous if I was missing for long... ❞ He batted his lashes with an innocence that was comical when juxtaposed with the girl quivering in his lap. Dōma made a show out of absorbing what was left of her; limp parts dangling like a puppet from his chest as he sat up. In a purposefully lazy fashion, he rolled around to walk on all four and paused just in time for Naraku to hear the crushing of bones in his twisting abdomen. No blood was spilled, but her quivering was completely silenced after that.

❝ That and — ❞ Snap. ❝ ... I'm a creature of habit, you see... ❞ He crawled a little closer with the remains dragging beneath him, then swept his legs over the dock to sit by the ponds. Long fingers ran through unruly birch white with flair; a wink to his smirk when he peered up at the other. In spite of placing himself at the lower end, Dōma's warning still held a trill of excitement that would make any demon's blood boil contagiously; his excitement seemed a bit less polished as usual.