#m.u.s.e

DESCRIPTION. ▇▇▇▇ was killed today. The potent smell of blood had been hanging in the air for quite some time now, ▇▇▇▇ had become immune to the despair which hung over them.

You were unable to tell if the emotion you were feeling was raw excitement or anxiety so strong it was enough to skin you alive. Feeling worms crawl under your skin in a comforting way. Either way, you waited in front of the main office in anticipation, General Gorou had instructed you to come to the Inazuman Headquarters for your first assignment. You’d been stuck doing grunt work for a good year and a half. All the ruthless bootcamp training, the taste of mud still slimed its way into your tastebuds whenever you thought about it.

With a slight huff, you slid the shoji door. The general waited there in a formal hakama, eyes ahead to the empty space in front of him at the low table. A neatly folded piece of paper presented in front of you, your assignment. You shakily seated yourself in front of him with a determined, nervous, smile. He bowed to you, his eyes never wavering. You swallowed and bowed back. No words were exchanged when he slid the piece of paper over to you and stared into your eyes.

Quivering hands, the paper found its way to your fingers. You stood up and left the room.

You wanted to vomit out of fear and piss yourself from the excitement which mixed in your veins. As soon as you left the premises you couldn’t help but happily tap your feet against the floor in a tiny dance. A squeal left your lips as you danced around.

The worst thing about this entire experience was the fact you had to walk all the way there on your own, your poor two feet. It wasn’t all that far, perhaps only a couple days if you took minimal breaks.

You had walked through a grand total of 6 different villages. Each riddled with poverty and death, your chest aches in pity once you reach your destination. Mud huts are built with roofs made of straw and leaves of rice plants. Like most villages of poor wealth, the population consisted of a majority of women and young boys. Men were usually the first to die of over exhaustion in the fields and providing food. However, this village had one characteristic that made your stomach queasy, the place was swamped with the shogunate’s samurai.

Samurai never scared you particularly, you’d just needed to show them your identification as a MUSE soldier, and they would cause little trouble.

“Please let her go, she didn’t mean any harm!” one of the women screamed, a smaller girl with white hair trapped within the first of a much larger man covered in traditional armor.

Your mind raced, before you could process the information you were already standing in front of the pair. Legs apart with your stance clearly ready to take arms.

“Would you be so kind as to let the young woman go?” Your hushed voice was hardly above a whisper, but it was enough to get the attention of the woman and the samurai manhandling her.

He spat at you, “You lot are always getting in somebody else's business, I really hate you M.U.S.E dogs. Why don’t you do us all a favor and behead this woman here, she’s just as much of a monster as what you’re used to slaying.”

You unsheathed the longsword presented on your back, “I’m allowed to hurt you if you interfere with my job. I need to interview this woman regarding the strange events happening here, please step aside.”

Deep down, you knew you weren’t physically capable to take him on, nothing but the organization’s name to use against him. The samurai realized that this was more trouble than it was worth, with a scoff, he shoved the woman to the floor and walked away from the scene.

“Ayaka!” the bystander rushed to the young woman’s side, her hand resting on her back as she regained her posture.

“Miss Chisato…” the woman dubbed Ayaka whispered.

Her attention was directed towards you. Acidic bile spilled from your lips and onto the dirt road, your legs shook violently you could hardly stand. The two women rushed to your side.

“Ma’am? Are you okay?” Ayaka asked, you used your knees as stands for your hands.

You shook your head, “No, but… It’ll be fine. I just have to wait for this anxiety to subside.”

“Please let me treat you to tea at my home, it’s the least I could do,” Ayaka insisted with a hand on your shoulder, “I-I really think you should get some food in you, you’re clearly malnourished.”

This was the perfect opportunity to get more information about your assignment, although you felt bad for taking up this poor young woman’s time, you needed to start somewhere.

Your assignment was Futakuchi-Onna, an Inazuman yokai which married girls and young adults. The yokai shall possess the victim's head, creating a mouth upon the back of the scalp, and eat an ungodly amount of food. All of the food consumed by the victim goes directly into feeding the demon, the victim will slowly starve to death. The only way to truly purge the yokai is to kill the victim before it finishes the cycle of death.

Which means, soon enough, human blood would taint your hands.

Chisato bared her goodbyes with a small bow, and Ayaka led her to her humble estate.

“Have you heard anything about the food supply dropping dramatically? I’m here to investigate the cause,” you openly admitted, “You see, this is my very first real assignment, and I’m nervous out of my mind.”

Ayaka was too beautiful to describe with English words. Hair as white as snow, sparkling with a blue hue in the sunlight with dazzling navy eyes which pulled you into her world. Her smile was welcoming and made your stomach churn with excitement. You felt like vomiting again. Her home was… Charming. It was one of the larger huts, she stated because it was her brother who was the head of the rice planting farmers. The kanji for Kamisato was engraved into the flat wooden plank outside the gates of their property. The house was one of the few houses made of wood and bamboo. Ayaka welcomed you into her estate and brewed your tea.

“Tell me,” You started, watching her light the fire to the furnace, “Your brother is the head of the farmers here correct? Why don’t you move to one of the wealthier villages instead?”

She didn’t answer you right away, not until the flame had ignited and began to eat the fuel.

A sigh escaped from her pale lips, “Why would we? We have everything we want here.”

Her hands shook as she handled the iron kettle atop the furnace, her thin wrist peeking out of her worn kimono. It was obvious she was malnourished. You never answered her, instead you patiently wanted for her to prepare you tea.

“Why was the samurai treating you so harshly?” Ayaka visibly flinched when you asked her the question.

You were both sitting at her low table, with no pillows present. You sat on your knees and slowly consumed the tea she had presented you with.

She looked to the ground and traced shapes into the worn tatami mats, “Well, my brother is in debt to the family who sent the samurai to the village. He was meant to pay his dues today, but because he’s been working in the fields so much, he hasn’t been able to make an appearance lately…”

That’s strange, you didn’t recall seeing any rice patties near the location. The fields couldn’t be as large to be keeping a man overnight working, especially if there’s other men working out there. Her story didn’t add up, but you nodded and played along anyways. You left the area with your kind regards to Ayaka and slept under a tree right outside the village.

Still unable to see the rice fields that Ayaka spoke of.

You woke up hardly able to breathe, having to chew and swallow the humid air. It had begun to rain early that afternoon. You met with Ayaka once again, heart racing more than usual, your jaw clenched when she spoke to you.

“You’ll get a cold if you stay in the rain for too long, come join me under my umbrella. There’s plenty of room,” Ayaka told you, lifting up her blue paper umbrella and offering some space towards you without getting wet herself.

“As a M.U.S.E employee, I am trained to tolerate this sort of weather. Please don’t worry about it.”

“Nonsense, your face is getting all red, I’ll run you a bath at my home…”

Her insistence was adorable, your cheeks red as they burned with embarrassment. You found yourself getting off a small high when you caught her flowery smell once you had stood next to her under the sunshade. Your heart raced, but your chest never hurt like anxiety had made it ache. Your hands trembled but you were comfortable.

She escorted you to her home and ran you a bath, just as she said she would. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d had a bath, the warm water sunk into your skin as if you were a sponge. When you had gotten out, she’d lent you a nicer kimono that was a little too big for you.

“You see, you’re much larger than me, this is a kimono that my brother had grown out of. You may wear it,” she insisted, her hands peeking through the shoji screen which separated the bathroom to a hallway.

The kimono was uncomfortable, clearly low-quality silk but you were in no position to complain. For some ungodly reason, the brief smell of iron was presented upon the fabric. It made your stomach hurt unreasonably, the smell of blood bringing back the memories of the harsh boot camps which you were forced to go through. You trembled, breathing quickened, you rushed back into the bathroom and vomited into the bucket you had used to wash yourself with previously. Without a sound, you opened the window above the bath and dumped the bucket of vomit outside into the garden. A pang of guilt stabbed at your core; you brushed it off.

You excited the room and looked for Ayaka, your heart racing just at the thought of seeing her again. She was preparing the furnace to heat up another kettle of tea.

“Oh, (Y/N)! You’re here, I hope you enjoyed your bath,” her voice chipper, the kettle shook in her hands.

Your chest ached, “Do you think that your brother will mind me wearing his old clothes?”

“No, he’s very kind. It’s not like he’s around to care either.”

Her tone dropped an octave, every nerve in your body told you she was dangerous. Her smile was so welcoming, and she made your body feel as if it were set ablaze. The heartfelt way she’d brew tea and serve you rice crackers made you feel loved. You didn’t know that this feeling would be so wonderful, and you desperately wanted to express yourself to her, but you had no clue on where to start.

What if she thought you were weird? You’d only known her for a few days, and the lifestyle of a M.U.S.E employee didn’t have room for fickle things like love. Your imagination drifted as she ranted to you about the samurai, how cute she’d look in a formal kimono welcoming you home from a long mission. How adorable she’d be when she would come up to you and kiss you on the cheek and hug you in order to welcome you home.

Her cheeks puffed out, “You don’t care do you?”

A smidge of panic had set in once she had caught you daydreaming, “I do, the warm bath is just making me a little sleepy is all.”

“I have a remedy for that, scoot close to me.”

You did just that, sitting right by her side. It felt so natural to be around her.

“Lay your head in my lap, I’ll comb your hair as you sleep.”

Oh. You couldn’t think or breathe. Was this truly some fantasy coming to life? You held your breath as she guided your head to her soft legs, your hair was still a little damp, did she mind? Ayaka’s legs were ungodly skinny, and you could feel her bones under the thin layer of fat and muscle which covered her skeleton. She’d been so adamant about you resting, so how could you deny it? You allowed your body to relax, although it wasn’t the most comfortable pillow you fell asleep with her fingers in her hair massaging your scalp. The warm waves of sleep washed over you, feeling the high of her smell starting to sink in.

Ayaka felt disgusted with herself as you laid in her lap. She was so hungry, hungry for you. The back of her skull opened up into a mouth which stank of blood, gore of the most recent kill reeking from its oral cavity. Her white hair moved as if it were the tentacles of some underwater beast, soft sobs escaped her lips but you laid still. The stink of the kill filled your senses, adrenaline rushed through your body as you had dodged the viscous hair follicles with last minute precision. Sparkling tears decorated Ayaka’s wonderful face, she looked as if she were a doll made of China.

The instinct to run away made your legs move before you could even think, you rushed into the brutal downpour which was Inazuma storms. You had no shoes, your feet cold and sticky with mud and heart racing. You stopped at the entry gate and looked back at the Kamisato estate. Moments spent in the pouring rain, your heart ached for Ayaka to return to your line of sight, she never showed. Not even to close the door you had rudely left open in your panic. You abandoned your uniform and your sword inside the home, walking barefoot to the tree you had slept under previously. It provided little to no shelter, but you sat and daydreamed soaked to the bone with the numbness the cold rain gave you. You find comfort in the warmth of Ayaka, you cry to yourself. You plead to an unknown God to allow you to think of a different way to kill the yokai, you cried and sobbed into the void of the downpour. You wanted to scream, so badly, but you had no energy.

You found yourself in your sorrows, when a blonde man approached you. He was of a shorter stature, with a streak of red in his hair and melancholy eyes. He wore a layered yukata with reds and browns, dashes of yellow presented onto the fine silk, reminding you of the autumn trees. His paper umbrella was an ombre shade.

“Your kimono. Where did you get it from?” His voice was husky.

Your gaze was focussed onto the ground, staring at his kimono sandals, “Kamisato Ayaka, it’s originally from her brother, Kamisato Ayato.”

Ayaka’s voice was engraved in your mind, every story of her brother and her parents. Her praises about her amazing family. The modesty with her in that large home, all alone.

“You stole it?”

“No, Kamisato gave it to me,” your voice was monotone to a point you surprised yourself.

He hummed, but you couldn’t hear it over the roar of the rain.

“I am Kaedehara Kazuha, I’m a local, and I saw you run out of Kamisato’s estate. Am I to assume that you fell for Ayaka’s little performance too?”

His wording ignited something inside you that you’d never felt before. Before you could even think you were standing up before him. Face to face with the man you asked him to repeat the words he had just spoken.

“She’s been the reason for all of the recent disappearances, but because nobody has gotten indisputable evidence we can’t exactly just kill her. Her family is also one of the largest patrons for many of the farmers here, since her brother disappeared we haven’t had anybody to go to.” Kazuha’s explanation made you queasy, “You must be new, considering the townspeople talk way too much. There’s a M.U.S.E soldier in the village as of now, hopefully the issue will be solved sooner than later.”

Your hands trembled, as you had realized the weight of the situation. Ayaka never cared for you, she only made it look that way so she could lure you in and kill you. Your chest ached, you started to cry again. Kazuha offered no comfort as he nodded and trailed away at your miserable form.

You called out her name in a weary desperation.

Ayaka had never felt more guilty in her life. It ate at her stomach just as the demon ate at her spirit and soul. She let out a shaky exhale as it had spoken to her. In her head, it’s voice rang out, asking her if she really wanted to continue living. If you wish to continue, it seethed, you must bring me the flesh of a human. Stale rice and tangy tea will not suffice any longer. Stuck inside her home, alone, she had finally found someone that would allow her to trust them. To take care of. Ever since the devouring of her brother she’d hardly been able to handle the isolation inside the cold manor, when you came along you were like the sun.

You were so kind to her, so nervous, so perfect.

You were also the one who would take her head, no matter what.

It has been a whole week, and the village samurai were beginning to debate if they should kill you or not. You’d been threatened more times than you could count, held down with a blade to your neck. Ayaka was too terrified to look you in the eye, the demon in her head feeling the irrational fear whenever you were within ten feet of her. You’d managed to get your uniform and sword back, it was wrinkled and worn.

In the townsquare you stood in front of her, finally able to see her face which was engraved in your mind.

“Kamisato,” the way her surname fell from your lips felt like acid against her eardrums, “I don’t want to kill you.”

Ayaka could feel her face heating up, her mind was running wild. In the heat of the tension she couldn’t focus on your words nor the weight of your tone. All she knew is that she missed your voice. She wanted to invite you to her home, one last time, kiss you softly, and let the demon kill her while in your arms.

“Kamisato, you were one of the few people in this small dainty town that showed me kindness, there is only one way to repay that kindness.”

The youngest Kamisato’s voice was hushed when she spoke, “How?”

“I will kill the thing that is plaguing you. I don’t know how, but I’ll do it.”

A voice in Ayaka’s head screamed and then laughed.

You guided her to a shrine that was three kilometers away, almost two miles. Most of the journey she is on your back with your arms supporting her legs and arms wrapped around your neck. You needed to get this thing out of her, she was too precious to kill. The shrine was worn down, with no shrine maidens or any sort of name, but you had most of the tools used for a small ritual in an attempt to kill it. You surrounded her in sared salts in the center of the shrine hall, having her drink the water from the sacred wells. There was nothing, you simply weren’t trained in this field.

Your throat was sore with terror, Ayaka sitting so wonderfully in the center of the circle with an unwavering smile.

“Close your eyes for me,” she followed your request with no questions.

You stepped inside the circle of salt, as quietly as you could you unsheathe the sword which laid on your hip now. A hand on her head to keep her still. You took a breath in.

“I love you,” she whispered.

3.

2.

1.

Blood filled your vision, the sword cut cleanly through her delicate neck. It sprayed you in your face and you got crimson liquid inside your mouth. Her head fell to the floor and spazzed wildly. The demon died inside her brain allowing her to feel the life slip away from her. You choked on the thick taste of iron; the blood spray decorated your white dress shirt with a vibrant auburn.

Her body fell to the left, hitting your feet. You kicked her limpness off of you and turned in order to vomit onto the shrine’s wooden floors. Her lovely smile still was implanted into her face, her cheeks stuck into the position forevermore. Ayaka, while she was alive, anticipated you’d finally allow her the sweetness of death. She would not be able to participate in the feasts of the God’s, being able to feel what it was like to be full of food again. Able to see her brother again.

The thoughts made you sob harder, the smell rushed to your nose making you hurl even more.

Your entire body shook violently. Hardly able to stand.

Scrambling to find the wall of the structure, you’d sit down and cup your face. Fingers going to your hair and pulling at the roots as you rocked back and forth. Your heart beating wildly and the stink of blood and acid were the only things your senses could memorize.

There, you sat.

Never to be found again within the abyss of insanity.