Child Of Flame
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Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
5
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Category:
+. to F › Fushigi Yuugi
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
5
Views:
4,476
Reviews:
3
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Fushigi Yuugi, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Juvenile Things
Title: Child Of Flame
Author: BlackFlame
Fanfiction: Fushigi Yuugi
~*II:Disclaimer:II*~
Hello. I’m BlackFlame. ::bows formally:: Now, I do not own Fushigi Yuugi, as much as I’d love to be from Osaka, and live in Tokyo, and go to Anime Expo 2002 because I am an excellent manga artist, and make Miaka a terrible cook because I hate Tamahome. ::sighs:: Well, I have that last part down…the hating Tamahome thing, but that’s not good enough. Mostly because my name is not Watase Yuu. It’s-- ::snorts:: Eyah, like I’d tell you what my real name is! ::laughs:: Anyways. All characters that are used here on in are the creation of Miss Watase and not me…Except for Miranda…. but that’s not something to be proud of. Don’t worry about it; that’s next chapter. Anyways, I hope that you enjoy my idea of a very morbid story. ^^; I honestly have no clue where any of this came from. I am a very happy person and I came up with all this sadness. ::sighs:: Oh, well. Anyways. I’d better let you read this and stop blabbing. Je ne!
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Chapter One: Juvenile Things
Nakago sat rigidly on the edge of his little bed. He wasn’t much older than his baby sister who still retained all her baby fat, and hadn’t begun to develop at all. He heard her scream and his fingers dug in to thft pft plastic of the red race care that his bed was set in. He did not like owning such juvenile things, but the alternative was bigger and could hold the weight of a full-grown man. That thought alone nearly made him whimper. Akiko screamed again, this time something a little more coherent.
“No! Daddy!”
Nakago’s sapphire eyes slid shut tightly, sequencing his little face up and he fingers dug deeper.
“Nakago,” a maternal voice spoke softly. “He’s going to come after he’s done with ‘Kiko.”
Nakago, the little boy, looked up. A beautiful lady with long, platinum blond, maybe blue tinted hair stood in front of him. She had beautiful violet eyes that hinted a few shades lighter and they would have been blue. She was tall to him, but then, he was a little boy. She wore a long, Chinese looking tunic, almost a dress, and silk Chinese pants. Her shoes were also of a Chinese style. She had long blue-it was blue, Nakago sur sure of it-hair that reached her knees and waved in a most peculiar fashion, as though she’d worn her hair in braids for so many years that the strands took on the wave as if it were natural to do so. The top layer was pulled back and held with a pink ribbon; strange considering her attire was mostly of blue shades.
A small, circular hand mirror rested on her hip, of which was decorated royally. There was an Eastern style dragon-Nakago noticed-that made its way around the circle of glass, its tail and fore claws wrapped protectively around the reflexive surface.
Nakago suddenly noticed that the screams from Akiko’s room had turned to muted whimpers and grunts of effort.
“He’ll be done with her soon, little one…” the lady said, absently looking off into the direction of Akiko’om. om. She looked back at him, her eyes boring gravely into his.
“I’m sorry, Nakago. But I can’t do anything about him for help ‘Kiko, but I promise, this _is_ the last time that they do this to either of you.”
As if to punctuate what she said, there was a final grunt, then silence.
The lady took the mirror at her hip and broke the little string his hung from on her belt. “Take this,” she said quickly and quietly to him. “If you are ever alone and need someone to talk to, look into this and there will always be someone here to talk to you.” She handed the little mirror to Nakago and caressed his cheek. “It may be me, it may not be. But no one in this mirror will ever intentionally hurt you. Never.”
“Nakago,” came a male voice, husky with excitement.
“I have to go,” the lady said, and she kissed his forehead.
“Wait,” cried Nakago’s squeaky little voice. “What’s your name?”
She smiled at him. “I’m Nyan Nyan.”
Then the door opened, and Nyan Nyan was replaced by a very sick man who grinned like an evil Cheshire cat.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Nakago opened his eyes slowly. No jumping, no racing heart, no blood pounding in hid ears. It was an old dream, one that had been a nightmare since he was six. The same dream he had at least once a week for the past eleven years. It didn’t send him into a sold sweat anymore. It was just a dream that hurt like a sore tooth you couldn’t stop prodding. Akiko was the one that was terrified of men, the one who trusted her brother solely out of the male species of the human race, and only because he’d been through the same thing she had.
Nakago tried to move and found that an oversized fetus impeded on his moving. Akiko had snuck into his bed again in the little apartment they shared. The young teen never slept in any other position. She always curled up on herself, and Nakago was the only person she could sleep in the same bed with. And Nakago was also the only male she’d ever be able to emotionally handle a tumble in the sheets with, but he was her brother. So, contrary to what everyone thought, they were _not_ incestuous. Everyone always saw Akiko acting lover-like with her blond brother, and saw him return the caresses and kisses in turn, and automatically assumed that the pair did other things in a bed than just catch their daily replacement of energy. What they didn’t understand was that this was the only way Akiko knew to show her affections. With all that had happened in her past, and all that she’d learned about love and sex, that she didn’t understand a peck on the cheek or a friendly hug. So, Nakago acted appropriately for her, and so the rumors went.
Nakago watched Akiko sleep, her auburn hair strewn carelessly across the pillow. She hardly made a noise when she was awake, she sounded dead when asleep. It must have been hard for her to look like their father, he mused to himself. She was deathly afraid of having her hair cnd hnd her grew it out to her hips to look less like him.
Nakago, on the other hand, looked like their mother, who was just as bad as their father. She knew and saw what was going on, even joined in on the abuse with their father when it amused her to do so. No, however, let on about it to Akiko. She needed someone to look too when there was a problem, and who better than Mommy, who was blissfully “unaware” what was going on. It was one of the few things that still angered him about that time.
He clutched the blue bedspread tightly for a moment, and allowing his anger to slip away, let the old blanket go. Poor little Akiko. Had Nakago been older or bigger, maybe…
:You couldn’t have done anything, you know,: came a soft, familiar voice.
:I thought I told you that I didn’t believe in you any more,: Nakago thought at the voice in his head as he absently twisted his fingers in auburn hair.
There was a soft mental chuckle. :You did,” it said. :And I told you I was as real as you were.:
Nakago sighed in exasperation. :Nyan Nyan, it’s been eleven years. It doesn’t bother me anymore. ‘Kiko is the one that’ll never heal.:
:Nakago.: There was a feeling of the unseen woman shaking her head. :When will you see it? You’re just as hurt as she is. You just got numb, and she can’t do that. You’re the only thing keeping her sane, you know…:
Nakago stared at Akiko’s delicate pointed face soberly. He could imagine the look her eyes would have when she woke up. ‘Oh, God,’ she would think, becoming even smalthanthan she already was. ‘Did it happen again? Is Daddy here with me?!’ And she would see Nakago, and he would wake up, comfort her. And then would press herself as hard against him as she could before she fell asleep again with soft whimpers and trembling.
Nakago let out a breath slowly. :I know,: he said simply.
:Naka-chan.: Nakago felt a mental caress from bea beautiful lady. :Why don’t either of you get some help?:
Nakago smiled ruefully at the question that Nyan Nyan asked every time she talked to him. :I don’t need help; ‘Kiko has me.:
That usually put an end to that conversation right there, but Nyan Nyan wasn’t done yet. :What if something happens to you?:
The blond was dumbfounded. What if something happened to him? He’d never thought of it that way. What if something _did_ happen to him. What would happen to Akiko? What would Akiko do, was a better question, now that he _was_ thinking about it.
:And if you lose her, you’ll lose your heart.:
:What?:
Nyan Nyan sighed in his mind. :Nakago, ‘Kiko is the only person you show any real feeling for. You don’t even show _me anything_ anymore.:
Nakago snorted softly. :You’re not real,: he replied insolently, for which he received a mental jab that knocked his head into the wall behind him. “OW,” she whispered harshly, trying not to wake his sleeping sister. :What the HELL was _that_ for?!:
Nyan Nyan giggled. :To prove to you that I was real enough to inflict pain,: she replied as she soothed his aching head. “And real enough to sooth said inflicted pain.:
Nakago rolled his eyes. :How does that prove anything?::Why:Why would anyone one imaginary that _you_ created from your own mind hurt _you_ for pissing _her_ off?: And with that, Nyan Nyan was gone, leaving behind a royally confused Nakago behind.
‘…Wait,’ he thought to himself. “…She’s right…that just isn’t possible…’ Nakago’s eyes when wide with shocked speculation. ‘Nyan Nyan isn’t from _my_ mind…’
Author: BlackFlame
Fanfiction: Fushigi Yuugi
~*II:Disclaimer:II*~
Hello. I’m BlackFlame. ::bows formally:: Now, I do not own Fushigi Yuugi, as much as I’d love to be from Osaka, and live in Tokyo, and go to Anime Expo 2002 because I am an excellent manga artist, and make Miaka a terrible cook because I hate Tamahome. ::sighs:: Well, I have that last part down…the hating Tamahome thing, but that’s not good enough. Mostly because my name is not Watase Yuu. It’s-- ::snorts:: Eyah, like I’d tell you what my real name is! ::laughs:: Anyways. All characters that are used here on in are the creation of Miss Watase and not me…Except for Miranda…. but that’s not something to be proud of. Don’t worry about it; that’s next chapter. Anyways, I hope that you enjoy my idea of a very morbid story. ^^; I honestly have no clue where any of this came from. I am a very happy person and I came up with all this sadness. ::sighs:: Oh, well. Anyways. I’d better let you read this and stop blabbing. Je ne!
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Chapter One: Juvenile Things
Nakago sat rigidly on the edge of his little bed. He wasn’t much older than his baby sister who still retained all her baby fat, and hadn’t begun to develop at all. He heard her scream and his fingers dug in to thft pft plastic of the red race care that his bed was set in. He did not like owning such juvenile things, but the alternative was bigger and could hold the weight of a full-grown man. That thought alone nearly made him whimper. Akiko screamed again, this time something a little more coherent.
“No! Daddy!”
Nakago’s sapphire eyes slid shut tightly, sequencing his little face up and he fingers dug deeper.
“Nakago,” a maternal voice spoke softly. “He’s going to come after he’s done with ‘Kiko.”
Nakago, the little boy, looked up. A beautiful lady with long, platinum blond, maybe blue tinted hair stood in front of him. She had beautiful violet eyes that hinted a few shades lighter and they would have been blue. She was tall to him, but then, he was a little boy. She wore a long, Chinese looking tunic, almost a dress, and silk Chinese pants. Her shoes were also of a Chinese style. She had long blue-it was blue, Nakago sur sure of it-hair that reached her knees and waved in a most peculiar fashion, as though she’d worn her hair in braids for so many years that the strands took on the wave as if it were natural to do so. The top layer was pulled back and held with a pink ribbon; strange considering her attire was mostly of blue shades.
A small, circular hand mirror rested on her hip, of which was decorated royally. There was an Eastern style dragon-Nakago noticed-that made its way around the circle of glass, its tail and fore claws wrapped protectively around the reflexive surface.
Nakago suddenly noticed that the screams from Akiko’s room had turned to muted whimpers and grunts of effort.
“He’ll be done with her soon, little one…” the lady said, absently looking off into the direction of Akiko’om. om. She looked back at him, her eyes boring gravely into his.
“I’m sorry, Nakago. But I can’t do anything about him for help ‘Kiko, but I promise, this _is_ the last time that they do this to either of you.”
As if to punctuate what she said, there was a final grunt, then silence.
The lady took the mirror at her hip and broke the little string his hung from on her belt. “Take this,” she said quickly and quietly to him. “If you are ever alone and need someone to talk to, look into this and there will always be someone here to talk to you.” She handed the little mirror to Nakago and caressed his cheek. “It may be me, it may not be. But no one in this mirror will ever intentionally hurt you. Never.”
“Nakago,” came a male voice, husky with excitement.
“I have to go,” the lady said, and she kissed his forehead.
“Wait,” cried Nakago’s squeaky little voice. “What’s your name?”
She smiled at him. “I’m Nyan Nyan.”
Then the door opened, and Nyan Nyan was replaced by a very sick man who grinned like an evil Cheshire cat.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Nakago opened his eyes slowly. No jumping, no racing heart, no blood pounding in hid ears. It was an old dream, one that had been a nightmare since he was six. The same dream he had at least once a week for the past eleven years. It didn’t send him into a sold sweat anymore. It was just a dream that hurt like a sore tooth you couldn’t stop prodding. Akiko was the one that was terrified of men, the one who trusted her brother solely out of the male species of the human race, and only because he’d been through the same thing she had.
Nakago tried to move and found that an oversized fetus impeded on his moving. Akiko had snuck into his bed again in the little apartment they shared. The young teen never slept in any other position. She always curled up on herself, and Nakago was the only person she could sleep in the same bed with. And Nakago was also the only male she’d ever be able to emotionally handle a tumble in the sheets with, but he was her brother. So, contrary to what everyone thought, they were _not_ incestuous. Everyone always saw Akiko acting lover-like with her blond brother, and saw him return the caresses and kisses in turn, and automatically assumed that the pair did other things in a bed than just catch their daily replacement of energy. What they didn’t understand was that this was the only way Akiko knew to show her affections. With all that had happened in her past, and all that she’d learned about love and sex, that she didn’t understand a peck on the cheek or a friendly hug. So, Nakago acted appropriately for her, and so the rumors went.
Nakago watched Akiko sleep, her auburn hair strewn carelessly across the pillow. She hardly made a noise when she was awake, she sounded dead when asleep. It must have been hard for her to look like their father, he mused to himself. She was deathly afraid of having her hair cnd hnd her grew it out to her hips to look less like him.
Nakago, on the other hand, looked like their mother, who was just as bad as their father. She knew and saw what was going on, even joined in on the abuse with their father when it amused her to do so. No, however, let on about it to Akiko. She needed someone to look too when there was a problem, and who better than Mommy, who was blissfully “unaware” what was going on. It was one of the few things that still angered him about that time.
He clutched the blue bedspread tightly for a moment, and allowing his anger to slip away, let the old blanket go. Poor little Akiko. Had Nakago been older or bigger, maybe…
:You couldn’t have done anything, you know,: came a soft, familiar voice.
:I thought I told you that I didn’t believe in you any more,: Nakago thought at the voice in his head as he absently twisted his fingers in auburn hair.
There was a soft mental chuckle. :You did,” it said. :And I told you I was as real as you were.:
Nakago sighed in exasperation. :Nyan Nyan, it’s been eleven years. It doesn’t bother me anymore. ‘Kiko is the one that’ll never heal.:
:Nakago.: There was a feeling of the unseen woman shaking her head. :When will you see it? You’re just as hurt as she is. You just got numb, and she can’t do that. You’re the only thing keeping her sane, you know…:
Nakago stared at Akiko’s delicate pointed face soberly. He could imagine the look her eyes would have when she woke up. ‘Oh, God,’ she would think, becoming even smalthanthan she already was. ‘Did it happen again? Is Daddy here with me?!’ And she would see Nakago, and he would wake up, comfort her. And then would press herself as hard against him as she could before she fell asleep again with soft whimpers and trembling.
Nakago let out a breath slowly. :I know,: he said simply.
:Naka-chan.: Nakago felt a mental caress from bea beautiful lady. :Why don’t either of you get some help?:
Nakago smiled ruefully at the question that Nyan Nyan asked every time she talked to him. :I don’t need help; ‘Kiko has me.:
That usually put an end to that conversation right there, but Nyan Nyan wasn’t done yet. :What if something happens to you?:
The blond was dumbfounded. What if something happened to him? He’d never thought of it that way. What if something _did_ happen to him. What would happen to Akiko? What would Akiko do, was a better question, now that he _was_ thinking about it.
:And if you lose her, you’ll lose your heart.:
:What?:
Nyan Nyan sighed in his mind. :Nakago, ‘Kiko is the only person you show any real feeling for. You don’t even show _me anything_ anymore.:
Nakago snorted softly. :You’re not real,: he replied insolently, for which he received a mental jab that knocked his head into the wall behind him. “OW,” she whispered harshly, trying not to wake his sleeping sister. :What the HELL was _that_ for?!:
Nyan Nyan giggled. :To prove to you that I was real enough to inflict pain,: she replied as she soothed his aching head. “And real enough to sooth said inflicted pain.:
Nakago rolled his eyes. :How does that prove anything?::Why:Why would anyone one imaginary that _you_ created from your own mind hurt _you_ for pissing _her_ off?: And with that, Nyan Nyan was gone, leaving behind a royally confused Nakago behind.
‘…Wait,’ he thought to himself. “…She’s right…that just isn’t possible…’ Nakago’s eyes when wide with shocked speculation. ‘Nyan Nyan isn’t from _my_ mind…’