Author: Snow Tigra
Rating: R
Pairing: 1x2... you may not believe me, but trust me on this.
Warnings: Supernatural stuff, first person POV, inspired by the series Yami no Matsuei.
Spoilers: this is an AU, get real
Archive: fanfiction.net
Touched and Bound Prologue
He stood over the body, the knife in his hand still dripping in the moonlight. A thick cloud cover filled the night sky, with only scattered holes allowing star and moon light to glint across the wet metal and faintly illuminate his handy work. The figure stood over the child quietly, letting the wind pull at his long dark coat, causing it to billow quietly. His movements were all slow and precise as he knelt down and used the child's shirt to clear the blood off his blade, replacing it in his wrist sheath.
A gun would have been cleaner.
He would have preferred a gun for this job but circumstance didn't allow it. There would have been far too much noise and those within the orphanage would have heard. Faint screams or cries were easily hidden on the night wind, while gunshots were almost always recognized immediately. Bullets could also be traced, not easily, but it was still possible. All of those factors and many others combined made a knife the weapon of choice, despite the mess of blood it left on him and his victim.
Shrugging to himself, the killer turned away from the body, leaving it to be found as he'd been instructed to do. His job was finished.
He hitched his coat a bit closer around his shoulders to cover the blood on his outfit, then abandoned that idea as he realized it was on the outside of his coat as well. He still pulled it close, for sake of warmth and moved away, toward the road. His shoes crunched against the fall leaves underfoot, signaling his departure with the natural sound of weak cracks, like a burglar walking away from a broken window.
"Hey mister!"
The killer stopped and turned, surprised to find a young boy of about ten years racing to him, waving his arm back and forth. His first instinct was to run, but those who ran were usually followed or at least better remembered. So he turned to face the boy, ready to draw his knife if he needed to.
The boy rushed up, his wide and childish eyes glimmering in the dim night light. "Have you seen another boy like me out here?"
The killer shook his head, knowing full well exactly who the boy was talking about.
"Oh," the boy's expression fell sadly.
The killer turned away from the boy, intent on leaving. He'd answered the boy's question and now he needed to leave before the twilight grew brighter and his face could be seen, or worse, before the boy found the body of his friend. However he only managed to take a few steps before the boy spoke again.
"You're covered in red," he said in a soft voice, causing the killer to turn in surprise. "Do you like that color?"
The killer couldn't help but shudder at those words. He'd always been told to stay away from children and he'd always laughed at that precaution, until now. Hearing such words from anyone else wouldn't have bothered him. But hearing it from a voice which was so innocent in asking such a simple question had the strangest of effects. The child like curiosity struck him like a needle that could have never been seen or detected, nor anticipated. Anyone else and it wouldn't have bothered him, but this small phrase from this young boy rocketed his world, causing him to turn around and stare at the child.
"Do you like that color?" The boy repeated softly.
"No," the killer replied, without realizing he was speaking. "No, I hate it."
"You shouldn't."
The killer blinked at him in surprise. "Why?" he asked in a soft voice all his own. Around them the night breeze picked up.
"Because it looks good on you."
A split second, instinct, a blink of the eye. In one moment the two were watching each other quietly and in the next something snapped. The next moment, without even realizing his movement, the killer stepped forward and backhanded the boy across the face, sending him to the ground with a cry.
"Don't say that!" He yelled, his voice echoing in the twilight.
The boy before him held his face with a tender hand, his eyes wide as saucers in the growing light. He starred back in fear and horror, the trembling carrying itself through his small body until he looked like a fragile leaf in a strong wind, threatening to tear him apart. Above them the clouds moved, exposing the full moon.
And then the boy screamed.
TBC...
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