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Schism - So many colors hidden in one
And oh so much more
Fandom: Ninpocho...again...
Title: Schism
Rating: 14+
Pairing: Tenya/Tatsuya (one-sided?)
Type: One-shot
Warnings: Incest, dub-con, bondage, knifeplay, underage.
PoV: Tatsuya's.
Spoilers: No.
Other: Very very AU. Sort of a 'road not taken' scenario. Dark. I'm not even sure what to class Tatsuya as in this...fallen hero implies he'd ever been a hero in this, but he's not really a villain either. Just sort of tragic and dark. Very dark. Uhh. Hn. Whenever I add his sister into something it just takes a straight trip into squick-ville. Mreh. I'll call him a Tragic Villain in this one, screw it.

The blade singing across his flesh, as it had done ever since he was young, the ropes digging into his wrists, rough and sharp to contrast the smooth flesh against his. A voice in his ear.

"You may be the heir, but I am the eldest, and you are mine."

Had been hers forever, an innocent little boy following his sister around. Suspicion never coming, not until the day trust was broken and he had been left in a sobbing heap on the forest floor, his six year old mind well and truly shattered.

He had almost decided to make an end of it, there--to be good, or to kill himself should he stray back into her clutches--but the thought of actually ending his life had been too much for him, and the way in front of him was dark.

Until that point, he had been an idealist, as often children are. Whichever path he walked down would be full of sun and light, and he could do anything he wanted in life. Not only was he a child, he was the heir, firstborn male of one of the noble families of Water Country--however minor--and should have been able to do whatever he wanted with his life.

After that, he could see nothing but darkness in front of him.

He didn't know how long he had been in that forest before a jolt of hunger startled him out of his misery, but he had stumbled home through the wilderness, unfeeling and undecided. No moral compass made his way easier.

He always wondered, even then, if there had been a chance at that point for him to turn toward the light. If there had been an out.

He'd taken the easy way instead.

She had left him to his own devices for a while. She wasn't mad at him, he knew that. He wondered if it were possible for her to be genuinely mad, or whether she faked it as she had caring about him.

Wondered it until the day, almost half a year after the incident, she'd called him to her lab. Then he knew, as she demonstrated on one of their parents soldiers the painful chemical that seemed to remove all guilt from a person, that she had none herself and no care for other people.

A sharp slicing sense across his chest pulling him back to the present and out of the murky waters of recollection. Pressure against his hips, smooth skin against his own. Grey eyes both like and unlike his own--so cold!--staring into his.

"What need have you to think? Remember your purpose!"

I am a weapon. A tool.

He has killed for her, will continue to. He is getting stronger all the while, and no one outside ever suspects a thing.

Neither does she. He only continues to to do her will because he has given up to avoid being broken completely.

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