Child Of Flame

~*:IIDisclaimerII:*~
Okay, well, this is where the story starts to get a bit morbid. If you have a problem with rape, and/or family molestation, don't read. Kysu get's raped by his step-mom. I don't care whether you think it's possible, the point it, it's possible. Believe me. Anyhoo. I don't own anything belonging to Watase-san, and don't really claim anyone who is her's. So here goes. Now, the depth of my morbidity.


Chapter Three: Obedient To Step-Mom

Kysu jumped as a little ball of energy screamed “KY!” right in his ear. The little boy jumped happily and giggled as the older boy tried to get his heart to slow before it went out on him.

“Noriko,” Kysu yelled, his amber eyes flashing dangerously at the little boy. Noriko was a twin less twin. His twin sister-who was the one originally to be given the name Noriko, but wound up with her brother’s real name, and he with hers-had died a few weeks after her birth due to rubella, a cradle disease that was a type of measles.

The little purple haired boy became sober suddenly, his fingers toying absently with his braid tail, and his violet eyes became thoughtful. “Tasuki, do you still have your diamond fan?”

Kysu blinked. That was strange, only Nyan Nyan called Kysu Tasuki. Why was Noriko calling him that now? “Tasuki? Who’s Tasuki,” he asked his babysittee. His flame hair flopped into his face and he blew it back up to where it was supposed to be.

The little boy giggled again. “You are! And I’m N_u_riko, not N_o_riko. And you have a diamond fan!” The little boy became thoughtful again, as if something seriously disturbed him. He blew a few stands of hair out of his face and tilted his head to regard Kysu. “Only, I don’t know why…”

Memories of playing with Nyan Nyan when he was a little boy flashed through his mind. His short flame red hair would dance like flame itself and his amber eyes darted around looking for the tail-tell blue-green stands, or the blue or pink cloth. Nyan Nyan once told him that she switched from pink to blue because she was born as a passionate person, hence the pink and red colors, but as she grew up, she became a more melancholy, more morbid despite her cheerfulness, so she began to wear a color that reflected that. She was so much like Kysu, and he never understood why, and yet she was so unlike him. But she would play with him, and put up with his slapping her with a fan and shouting “Rekka Shinen!!!!!”

To a point.

After the “imaginary friend” phase wore off, he dismissed her out of hand. A few bruises later, physical and mental, he knew better than to insult her. He talked to her all the time, still, as he had when he was a kid, and it was not wise to pissed her off, whatever she was. Especially since she had been his only friend for most of that time. A half blooded Japanese kid was not very popular among some short-sighted students who’s numbers tended to run in “this entire school.”

But the thing that disturbed him was the fact that what the little boy had said sounded familiar. Tasuki was what Nyan Nyan would call him. She rarely called him by his given name. And playing like that with Nyan Nyan had felt right. And where had he learned the phrase, he had no idea. It had just been in him to do so. But how had Noriko know this. This was Kysu’s own little game. Hadn’t it?

“Noriko-“

“NUriko,” the little boy corrected, looking absurd in his sudden severity.

Kysu chuckled at him and picked the boy up before setting him on his lap. He had been at the computer, checking his mail at the little boy’s house when this conversation started, but now he got off line to concentrate on the strange goings on at hand. “I’m sorry. Nuriko, where did you learn that name?”

Nuriko blinked at him. “What name? Tasuki?” The little boy giggled again. “It’s yours silly!!!”

And that was all he got out of the little spawn for the rest of the night. Noriko, or Nuriko, as he insisted on being called from the moment on, had b to to try and move furniture around to “…get strong to protect Miaka!” That had royally confused the hell out of Kysu, even more then how the child knew the name Tasuki.

When Nuriko’s parents had gotten home, he mentioned this to them. They both looked extremely perturbed by this. Apparently he had been doing this much as of late. Miaka was the name of his grandmother who had died when he was three. She would tell her grandchildren a tail beyond imagination. It was so absurd that it seemed true.

They told him that Miaka would tell the children about a time when she was pulled into a book called _”The Universe of the Four Gods”_ and became the main character. She became a priestess of a land called Konan, and of a god called Suzaku. There she and her best friend became enemies and fought to be the first to summon their ectiective gods. The best friend did it, and all hell broke loose in both worlds. However, no one seems to remember any of the things she said, so no one believed it. Nuriko always did though. There was also something about celestial. Two of them were named Tasuki and Nuriko.

Kysu heaved a sigh of relief at that and made his merry way home. And at home, who should be waiting for him in his distracted mind-set, but his latest stepmother. Kysu gritted his teeth. She was dressed, as always when his father was out of town for the weekend, in something that usually made him blush. She lounged-more like draped herself over-in his love seat.

“How are Hokki and Mitsuru,” Miranda asked innocently. She was an American and looked it. She was very tall, with a large frame, larger than Kysu’s tiny frame, typical of the Japanese. She was a modern dance teacher, so her body was well developed. Her arms and her legs had muscles that Kysu didn’t even know existed. She had a bobbed hair cut, something out of the twenties for American’s, that clung to her face nicely, naturally gently curled, blond strands framing her cheeks. Her eyes were deceiving. They made her look innocent; something she was not. Her body was hardly covered at all, telling him exactly was she had in mind for the evening. Her olive eyes danced dangerously in the soft lighting in Kysu’s room as she watched him predatorily from beneath long, thick, curled lashes.

“The Miyamoto’s seem well, Miranda,” Kysu told his stepmother-the fifth one in his seventeen years-stiffly. “May I ask why you are in my room?”

Miranda pouted, “Because your father left me all alone this weekend, and I can’t go out because I have to watch you.” She smiled coyly, “I sent my kiddies to their friends’ for the night, just so I could have a little virginal fun.”

Kysu felt his ears get warm. Did she have to rub in the fact that he was a virgin? Granted it wasn’t for lack of his trying to rectify the situation, but there just weren’t any girls around that he thought he’d be able to stand waking up next to. “I’m tired, Miranda. You mind letting get some sleep,” he asked impatiently.

She simply smiled and gestured that he should go about his business. Kysu rolled his eyes and began to ready himself for bed. He really was tired, but he was hoping that he could get some reading in before he turned in for the night. ‘Guess not.’

“You know,” she said as if she was commenting on the weather, “I think I like this country. In America, I could go to jail for statutory rape. Here, however,” she paused for Kysu to turn and look at her, which he did, involuntarily. What was she about now? “You are already considered a man…”

Kysu stared at her. Was she really talking about what he thought she was talking about? The twenty-six year old that his father had married stood, her nearly non-existent garments falling to the dark grey carpeted floor as if she’d never worn them at all. She glided up to him as he hastily tried to pull his jeans back on over his boxers, but she made sure they found their way next to his disregarded shirt on the ground. Her hand ghosted over his crotch and he quickly turned away from her naked form.

“Shit, Miranda,” he yelled nervously, swearing heatedly in his mind as his voice cracked. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?!”

She smiled wickedly at him. “What does it look like, kid? I’m trying to fuck you.”

Kysu just stared at her, and stepped back as she walked toward him. Before he knew what she was about, her hand was at his throat and squeezing, hard. It was at this moment that he realized that she was bigger and strong than him, and she was thin. The flame haired boy had never noticed that he was very small, and weighed considerably less than most Japanese, much less Americans. Miranda pushed him back on his simple box framed bed, her hand never leaving his windpipe. What was she going to do?

Kysu’s hands flew to hers, but it was in vein. Her grip was amazingly strong. It had to be for her to be a dancer, with all the partner throwing they did. She ripped his boxers from him and threw them in the corner. Was she…? No! She couldn’t be…could she…? She straddled him and began rocking in the most erotic way. He felt his body begin to respond to her. God! She was going to rape him! That was impossible! Women couldn’t rape men, could they?! Well, apparently, they could, because as she roused him into attention, she impaled herself on him to the hilt. Kysu gapped and gasped, thrashing to disconnect her from him until her grip tightened and he couldn’t breath. “Be good, kiddy,” she whispered into his ear, “I don’t mind necrophilia.” Kysu’s amber eyes widened in shock and she nodded.

This woman was mad! She was going to rape him, and if she had to, she’d kill him! Granted, she wouldn’t get much more out of him after his blood stopped flowing, but she obviouslyn’t n’t mind killing him! That thought sed hed him cold, in more ways than one, but Miranda brought him to full attention again, and he found that his terror was more powerful than his disgust, and he stopped fighting. “That’s a good boy. Just let Mommy fuck you good.” She bent down and bit this throat as as she thrust onto him again, making yelp in pain.

This only seemed to egg her on, and she began biting chunks of meant from his neck and chest, and her long nails scraped jagged pieces from his arms and shoulders as her passion grew to its climax. But slowly, he was growing to his climax as well. Even as he screamed in pain, Kysu also moaned in pleasure. The walls of her canal pressed tightly around his other self, and the friction was more erotic than the employment of his own hand. The pleasure was overriding the pain, but as he opened his eyes, he saw that she was still ripping his flesh from him and blood was trickling sluggishly from wounds here and there, and she was no longer using her nails, she was using a pen from the table next to his bed. Lines of blue ink would disappear into red and then become blue again.

‘Oh god!’ he thought, ‘don’t let me get ink poisoning!’ When she finally disengaged, he thought it was over, but he was wrong. Miranda took him into her mouth and bit hard. Kysu screamed again. She held the pen to the hollow of his throat and grazed her teeth sharply down the length, causing him to whimper and scream louder. This was more pain than he ever thought could be endured. It felt like she was trying to saw his dick off with her teeth! Kysu thought he would pass out when she just stopped. His eyes opened and he could barely see her though tears of pain as she calmly picked up her clothing.

He began shaking. Shaking so hard that his wounds began to hurt more. “You’re not a bad fuck, kid,” she told him as she made her way to the door. “Sure as hell better than your father.” She glanced at him with an unholy look in her eyes. “We’ll do this again, kid,” she turned and walked out the door, “real soon.” From the hall, Kysu hear, “And if you tell anyone…who would believe that a woman raped a nearly full grown man?”

It was a long time before Kysu could move again, and when he did, it was to curl up in the fetal position. He hurt. She’d hurt him bad. The sheets were dotted with spots of dark, crimson red. His arms and shoulders and chest hurt terribly, but the throb between his legs, caused him to lay back on his back and spread his legs wide to keep any flesh from contact.

“Kysu?”

The fire haired boy yipped and tried to curl up again, only to whimper in pain and to throw his body recklessly into a spread eagle position. Next to him, and turquoise haired woman sat next to him on the edge of his bed, looking older than Miranda, her usual cat-like cheery mask gone. Her long hair trailed out behind her in all directions. She wore a tunic and pants in an ancient Chinese and her indigo eyes were full of concern and shocked dismay was his condition.

Kysu nearly burst out into renewed sobs. It was Nyan! She’d never hurt him, right?

:Of course, I would never, ever, hurt you, Tasuki. You know I can’t lie when I talk to you like this.” She brushed the ever-annoying forelock out of his wide, terror-filled amber eyes. :Tell me what happened, Tas-chan…:

Kysu didn’t even notice she’d called him the wrong name again. He threw himself into her open arms and sobbed. He sobbed so hard that by the end of it he wouldn’t be talking very loudly for a while.

“Shut the hell up, you little fuck!”

Kysu pressed himself against Nyan Nyan as much as he could and whimpered softly. Trembling so hard he shook the woman whose arms he was in.

:Tasuki,: Nyan Nyan said gently in his mind, :I’m going to have a look at your memories a little.: And with that, Kysu felt more intimate with the woman than he ever had before. She showed him that she would never hurt him, and soothed away his physical hurt as she filtered through his memories…

…And he felt rage. Hate so strong, her wondered where she could have gotten it. Rage that cried for blood lust, that cried for revenge, that screamed, ‘I _will_ kill her!’ Rage so strong, it was a wonder that Nyan Nyan could control it.

:Tasuki,: she said gently, but firmly. :It’s not your fault. You didn’t ask for this.:

:But why else would so tho this,: he asked as he couldn’t see how it wasn’t his fault.

:Because she’s a sick bitch. You’re seventeen, she’d twenty-six. She knows better, and she forced you. You fought her until she nearly killed you. And she told you she’d had no problem with killing you.:

:But how can a woman rape a man?:

Nyan Nyan stroked Kysu’s flame red hair and sighed. :It doesn’t happen commonly, but often enough. Besides, she had considerable size on you, and a weapon. What could you do? It was just sex, nothing more; nothing less.: She pulled his face up to see her. :Don’t wash your body until you go to the police.:

Kysu stared at her in horror. :Why not?!?!:

Nyan Nyan sighed. :Because they can get evidence from your body, enough to put Miranda away for good, but if you take a bath or a shower, you’ll wash it all away. I do want you to get some peroxide or alcohol and clean those marks up, though.:

Kysu nodded and ran to the bathroom and got peroxide and some cotton balls and Nyan Nyan helped him clean up. Then she held him, humming softly until he fell asleep.