Original Fic, "Death's Shadow" - Part 1/2
Title: Death's Shadow - Part 1/2
Author: Gryvon
Fandom: Original
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 13,285
Kink: Courtesans/Geisha, Death
Warnings: Slash, Torture, Violence, Death
Summary: Fuyuki is a courtesan at the House of Falling Leaves. One night he wakes to find Death walking the halls.
Thanks to starshines for the image!
Something was wrong.
Fuyuki woke slowly, his brain forcing him grudgingly into consciousness. He waited, still as a rabbit, while his eyes adjusted. The lantern in the hall cast faint light into the room through the paper door, casting the room in a soft tan hue without really providing much in the way of illumination. The client beside him snored softly, one thick, meaty arm holding Fuyuki against the futon.
He heard bells. They were distant at first, so faint that he thought it was just ringing in his ears, but getting closer. They chimed softly in a regular pattern, low enough that they would have been inaudible during peak business hours but growing louder with each passing second. The light flickered, dropping the room into darkness for a moment. A new shadow appeared when the light returned, moving at a steady pace past the screen. The sound of the bells moved with it. The shadow was roughly human shaped, taller than normal with blurred edges, like the person, whoever it was, was just a shadow and nothing more. There were no footfalls - neither the heavy thud of their clients, the shuffling gait of the owner, or the soft steps of the maids.
The sound of the bells had woken him, he was certain, but the strangeness of this man was what had kept him from dismissing the sound and slipping back into sleep. Whoever this man was, his very demeanor screamed 'outsider'.
Fuyuki held perfectly still as the stranger passed, not daring to even breathe. Outsiders meant danger and he didn't want the stranger know that he had woken. He let out his breath in a soft sigh as soon as the shadow moved past Fuyuki's room. The sound of bells receded, and Fuyuki pictured the stranger turning the corner at the end of the hall.
Slowly, he slid out from under his client's arms and moved towards the edge of the futon, doing his best to not wake the man. He crawled across the floor towards the door, pausing halfway to pull on a discarded robe. The silken fabric slid over his shoulders, briefly irritating the scrapes on his back before settling around his thin frame. He belted it loosely as he knelt next to the door.
Cautiously, Fuyuki slid the screen open far enough to peek out into the hall. It was empty and quiet, exactly as it should be this late at night. He widened the opening and stuck his head out, glancing either way down the hall. All of the doors were shut. He couldn't hear the bells. For a brief second, he wondered if he'd dreamed it, but his dreams had never been that vivid nor were they usually that unnerving.
New customers weren't allowed on the premises this late. Only established patrons were granted the privilege of having a warm body to themselves all night, and even that came with a heavy cost. Daijin was working the gate tonight, and he was stricter than most of the guards, though that was only because it kept his work to a minimum. Whoever it was that he'd seen wandering the halls, they weren't supposed to be here.
The door slid aside with a soft hiss. He stepped out into the hallway, his bare feet making little sound against the wooden floor. The shadow had disappeared to the left and so that was the direction Fuyuki headed. He peeked cautiously around the corner but there was no one there. His feet made soft thuds as he padded along the hallway, moving slowly and trying to make as little sound as possible. Stealth had never been his forte as a child, but his years here had taught him to be quiet, to move from place to place with as little sound as possible and attract as little attention to himself as he could.
Logically, he knew he should turn back. If there was an outsider in the compound, it couldn't mean anything good. Sometimes the owner had men in to visit, investors or prospective clients, but that kind of business was handled during the day. He couldn't help but think that the stranger's purpose for being here was a bit nefarious. His very presence, just knowing that the man was in the building, set his nerves on edge. He shouldn't care. It wasn't his business. He shouldn't be creeping through the halls at night. If he woke one of the guests, the owner would be very displeased with him.
Curiosity carried him forward along the hallway. It ended at a crossroads. Fuyuki stared down the two branches, trying to figure out which way the man could have gone. He took a hesitant step to the left, then froze as a faint chime sounded to his right. He was certain that the stranger was about to step out into the hallway and catch him. There was no movement, and the sound didn't come again.
Fuyuki crept towards the sound. Halfway down the hall, one of the doors stood open a bare crack. That was Aki's room. Aki was one of the youngest among them and still new enough and young enough that he drew a fair share of clientele because of it. He was timid but nice, and Fuyuki enjoyed his company on the rare times they were offered any leisure.
He knelt as he neared the door and crept forward on his hands and knees until he could peek into the room. Aki was asleep on the futon. There was a large, rotund man partially covering him. The man's face was hidden by Aki's body but Fuyuki still recognized him easily enough. An involuntary shudder ran through him as he remembered the last time he'd had the 'pleasure' of the man's company. Another year and Aki would be old enough that the client would lose interest in him. If Aki's experience with the man was similar to what Fuyuki remembered, Aki would be counting the days until his birthday eagerly.
At first glance, everything seemed as it should. The client slept fitfully, but that was standard. He was a restless sleeper, prone to tossing and turning at night. Judging by the marks on Aki's exposed skin, it was obvious that he'd been with Aki for most of the evening.
Then, one of the shadows moved. Fuyuki barely stopped himself from jumping. He bit back a surprised gasp and held himself as still as possible as the shadow stretched forward towards Aki.
Fuyuki shivered again. Suddenly the hallway seemed colder than before. There was a man in the room with Aki and the client, his back to Fuyuki. He was tall, likely a foreigner, with dark hair and pale skin that shone dully in the faint light. The man reached up over his head, thin fingers closing in a space Fuyuki would have sworn was empty. Shadows rippled through the air like cloth, then were discarded in a heap on the floor. As they fell away, a long pole emerged, though it was hard to make out in the darkness. The black metal blended into the shadows. At first he thought it was just a strange sort of walking stick, maybe a staff, but then light glinted off something in the air that made him reconsider.
The man stepped closer to Aki. The fingers of both hands curled around the haft of the scythe. Fuyuki stared in fascinated horror as the weapon was raised, but he couldn't watch it fall. He squeezed his eyes shut and said a silent prayer for Aki. He imagined the blade falling, painting the sheets crimson with blood. There were no screams, just silence. He waited. When he opened his eyes again, he noticed three things. First, there was no blood. Both of the people lying on the futon were unhurt, at least as far as he could see. Second, Aki was still alive. He turned slightly in his sleep, rolling away from the client and moaning softly. He stayed asleep. Third, the stranger had turned and now stared directly at Fuyuki.
He was the kind of man that Fuyuki wished made up their clientele - handsome, if a bit pale, but a world better looking than most of the men that Fuyuki met. He had foreign features, a strong jaw, and bright blue eyes that focused on Fuyuki with a look of surprise.
The man took a step towards him.
Fuyuki scrambled backwards. He stumbled unsteadily to his feet and ran. Practice made him move quietly, even in his haste. He skidded around the corner as the door to Aki's room slid open. Bells chimed faintly. Fuyuki turned the corner again and half dove into his room. He paused inside the doorway, shoving down his initial instinct to slam the door shut behind him. He slid it mostly shut and then very gently closed it, making no sound. The bells were coming closer. Peeling off his robe, he shoved it under the cushion of a plush chair by the door, making certain none of it peeked out.
His client stirred as Fuyuki crawled back under the covers. He turned his face towards the client. Thankfully he seemed to still be asleep. The bells stopped outside of his door. Fuyuki arranged the long strands of his hair to obscure his face. He dropped his hand back under the covers as the door opened, shedding a thin shaft of light across his client's face. Fuyuki held very still and tried to breathe normally. Closing his eyes he prayed for the man to move on, to forget about him and leave.
Seconds passed. It felt like an eternity. His heart thundered, and he was certain that the stranger would be able to hear it. He felt like it was going to explode out of his chest.
Fuyuki didn't want to die.
Fabric rustled, and in his head Fuyuki pictured the man shifting on his feet. Minutes passed. He didn't dare move. The waiting was driving him mad. He wished the man would just go away, or do something, anything but this silence. He wanted to stand up, to admit what he'd seen, just so the man could kill him and it'd be over. Terror kept him still.
The door slid shut, trapping Fuyuki in the darkness. He waited. The man could be trying to trick him. Bells chimed, breaking the silence. They moved away, receding down the hall and then fading away entirely. He waited still, until long after the sound was gone.
A heavy arm fell across Fuyuki's chest. He jumped, biting his lip hard enough to draw blood as he stopped himself from screaming. His client snored loudly and curled closer to Fuyuki, drawing Fuyuki towards him. He tensed, but the client didn't wake, blissfully unaware of everything that had happened.
Slowly, Fuyuki uncurled his body, stretching out next to his client. He lay awake for a long time, thinking about the bells.
*****
Fuyuki missed breakfast the next morning thanks to his client's persistent attention as soon as he'd woke. It was nearly noon by the time the client finished. He kissed Fuyuki with bold familiarity as he left, murmuring promises to return again. It was a credit to Fuyuki's training that he held back a shudder.
As soon as the client was gone, Fuyuki pulled his robe out from under the chair and slipped it on. It was wrinkled, but he wasn't planning on going far. He crossed to the back wall, stepping behind a paper screen to the back door. It slid aside silently, oiled well enough that it could be opened and closed without a sound, allowing servants to slip through unnoticed. Fuyuki stepped down to the stone walkway. The stone was cold against his bare feet, but he barely noticed it.
There was only one other occupant in the bathing room whenever he walked in. Kiriya seemed to be asleep. He lounged in a corner with a towel over his face, not moving as Fuyuki dropped his robe in the laundry bin and washed himself off thoroughly, scrubbing off his client's touch as much as possible. The bath water was blissfully hot when he stepped in. He settled onto one of the benches opposite Kiriya, sliding down until his chin was submerged. The hot water helped alleviate some of his tension.
Exhaustion and hunger drove him from the water before too long. If he was going to fall asleep, he'd rather do so in his bed, and he needed lunch in his stomach before he could sleep, assuming he was given time to.
An assortment of plain-colored robed hung in a nook near the doorway. Fuyuki dried himself off and chose a black one, finding the color strangely fitting in honor of the night's visitor. Theories swirled in his head, but he ignored them. He wasn't much for superstition, though he'd heard enough of them from his grandmother when he was much younger. Still, practicality couldn't explain away shadows that moved, the scythe, or a man with no footsteps. A few names came to mind, none of them particularly good - Grim Reaper, Shinigami, Death....
His stomach growled and he put thoughts of the strange man out of his mind.
The servants' dining hall was unusually noisy when he approached, though the voices weren't overly loud. They all knew better than to let their voices carry into the public rooms where a client could overhear. He was distracted as he walked in, busy trying to pull his long, wet hair into some semblance of order, so it took a few minutes for the scene before him to fully register. Aki sat in the center of a large huddle of people, obviously distraught. Most of the older boys were around him, offering comfort.
Fuyuki tapped Shizuka on the shoulder, waiting until the boy looked up from his meal before speaking. "What happened?" His eyes never left Aki.
Shizuka shrugged. "No one knows," he said before scooping a large clump of rice into his mouth. "Aki's client died last night. Good riddance, I say. Doctor Hitsuga's looking at him now."
The blood drained from his face. Shizuka must have mistaken the look for shock because he patted Fuyuki lightly on the arm and shot him a sympathetic look.
"These things happen. I'm sure they'll clear Aki of fault."
Fuyuki nodded dumbly. He turned towards the kitchen, moving mechanically. One of the cooks handed him a plate. He barely noticed the sympathetic look she sent his way or what was on his plate. His appetite had fled, but he ate anyways.
Shizuka was older, but still relatively new to the House of Falling Leaves. He'd been here for four or five years, Fuyuki had been here for eleven. Client deaths were rare. Fuyuki could only remember two others. They never ended well. Four years ago, it had been quiet. Heart attack from over exertion, no one to miss him, no complaints. The client had disappeared overnight. Seven years ago... Fuyuki shuddered. He'd been a child then, still reeling from the horrible lifestyle he'd been shoved into. A client had died then too. Again, a natural death, but the client's family had involved themselves. They'd insisted that one of the boys had been responsible and railed at the owner until a culprit had been named. The owner had gathered them all in the courtyard and forced them to watch the boy being beaten. He could still hear the screams, echoing in the back of his mind.
"It'll be alright." Kiriya laid a hand on Fuyuki's shoulder. His skin was still warm from the bath. "Aki will be fine."
Fuyuki didn't look up from his plate. He'd barely eaten half of his food. It tasted like ash.
He should say something. The owner would be furious for months because of this. He hated it when anything went wrong. He'd be even angrier if the client had family. They could demand restitution, and the owner hated losing money. If word got out, there was a chance that they might temporarily lose business.
If he said something, the owner likely wouldn't believe him. He barely believed it himself. If he said something, the owner would think he was involved. Fuyuki had often expressed his hatred for that particular client. The man had been one of Fuyuki's first clients and he enjoyed making it hurt. He'd ben a cruel man. The world would be better off without him. Their lives would be better without him.
He didn't want to be punished. His best hope was to stay quiet and hope for the best. Aki would be fine. The owner liked him. A few tears and Aki would be forgiven, he hoped.
*****
Work kept Fuyuki from thinking too much about the stranger. Days stretched into weeks, and little was heard about the client's death after that first morning. If Aki had been punished, it hadn't been public. Rumor held that Aki had warmed the owner's bed for a few nights. No one said how the client had died.
Occasionally Fuyuki would catch himself watching the gates through the windows in the common room, waiting for a dark-haired, handsome, pale foreigner to come request his services. The stranger never came and Fuyuki's days stretched on in a haze of spreading his legs for older men. One of his clients brought him a set of wind chimes as a gift. He hung it where there was the least chance of a breeze. His wardrobe reflected his mood, slowly shifting to hold more blacks and silvers and reds. He was told it looked good on him.
Summer blurred into Fall, Fall to Winter. Inside the complex walls, the only difference in the seasons was in how many blankets were left on the futons and how chilled their clients' skin was when they first came in. Instead of chilled wine, they served hot sake. The sex was always the same.
Out of all of Fuyuki's regular clients, his least favorite was a foreigner who went by the name of Castle. He had expensive tastes and a thing for long-haired beauties. Whenever Castle visited, he'd send notice at least a week in advance. Fuyuki's rooms were cleaned until they were spotless. Fuyuki wore his best kimono to meet Castle. The owner personally inspected him to make sure his skin was smooth and soft. The bustle of preparation only served to build an increasing sense of dread in Fuyuki's stomach.
Fuyuki pasted a smile on his face as the door slid open. He bowed deeply and waited, his head pressed to his hands on the floor until Castle stood over him. They had a routine. Castle laughed merrily, protesting the formality as he helped Fuyuki to his feet, but Fuyuki knew it was expected of him. Castle was the kind of man that got off on subservience and control. As soon as he was on his feet, Castle pulled him into a possessive kiss. He tasted like beer and cigarettes.
He sat on Castle's knees and exclaimed in feigned delight over the present Castle had brought him. The box was wrapped in gilded paper, equally ornate on the inside. Each of the six pieces of chocolate was nestled in a cup of golden tin. Castle hand-fed the first piece to Fuyuki, declining Fuyuki's offer to share. He played up the sensuality of it - moaning in pleasure at the taste, sucking lightly on Castle's fingers as they pushed a piece of chocolate into his mouth, growing bolder in his attentions with each one. The chocolate sank like a weight in his stomach. He prayed it wouldn't come back up later.
The box was set aside halfway through. Castle's hands slipped inside Fuyuki's kimono, sliding gently under the fold to caress bare skin. They kissed slowly. He didn't mind these languid moments, when Castle was nice and they were almost like lovers. In the beginning of their evening, Castle was always gentle, always eager in his exploration of Fuyuki's skin, like he wanted to memorize the feel of him before he went away for another month or two.
Castle peeled Fuyuki's kimono off of him, letting it slip off to pool over Castle's lap and then shifting them until he could slide the fabric out from underneath Fuyuki. Castle's erection poked into his thighs but Castle made no move to undress himself and Fuyuki knew better than to try.
After several more languid kisses, Castle had Fuyuki stand briefly so that he could rearrange Fuyuki across his lap. He straddled Castle's thighs, his legs dangling from the arms of the chair. There was a discreet pot left out on the table next to them. Castle uncapped it and dipped his fingers inside with practiced familiarity. Three slick fingers pressed inside of Fuyuki at once, making him keen softly in pain as he was stretched too quickly. Castle was watching him intently. He smiled as Fuyuki's hands clenched against the shoulders of Castle's coat. His fingers worked slowly inside of Fuyuki, bobbing in and out, occasionally spreading wide and making Fuyuki gasp. Castle gave him time to get used to the thickness of his fingers, coating his insides liberally with oil.
"Good boy," Castle murmured. His teeth played along the rim of Fuyuki's ear, making him shiver and gasp. Castle knew exactly how to play him to get the reaction he wanted. They'd been meeting long enough that Castle knew which spots made him gasp and which made him moan. He knew how far he could push Fuyuki towards pain while still keeping Fuyuki tied up in pleasure. "Such a pretty boy."
Teeth bit down on his ear, thankfully not hard enough to draw blood. He cried out in pain and jerked backwards, involuntarily spearing himself on Castle's fingers.
Castle laughed and did it again. His smile turned wicked and he continued to push Fuyuki closer and closer towards the border where his pleasure turned sour.
"Who do you belong to?" Castle asked after a while. His voice was thick with lust. The time for gentleness was coming to a close.
Fuyuki lowered his gaze to hide the terror in his eyes and smoothed down the front of Castle's coat, erasing the wrinkles he'd put there. "You, master."
Castle's fingers withdrew. He wiped them on a handkerchief pulled from his pocket and discarded it with Fuyuki's clothes.
"Enough." A hard slap landed on Fuyuki's ass, signaling that he should stand.
He kept his eyes meekly down as he carefully crawled off of the chair. He stepped back just far enough to give Castle room to stand.
"On your knees."
Fuyuki dropped on the spot. He clasped his hands behind his back and opened his mouth wide. Castle stood in front of him, opening his pants and pulling out his straining erection. One hand guided his erection into Fuyuki's waiting mouth, the other closed in Fuyuki's hair and pulled his head forward. He held as still as he could, closing his eyes to help concentrate on breathing. Castle filled his mouth, pushing his way in until Fuyuki's nose touched flesh. He closed his mouth and did his best to suck and lick at the salty flesh that filled him.
Castle controlled their movements, keeping Fuyuki's head steady while he pushed his way down Fuyuki's throat. It hurt, much like everything did when Castle was involved. His hands pulled at Fuyuki's hair. His hips occasionally slammed too hard against Fuyuki's nose. Practice kept him from choking but it didn't help him breathe. Thankfully, it didn't take long for Castle to come. Seed shot down Fuyuki's throat and he did his best to swallow as much as he could, using his tongue to chase down any stray droplets. Castle hated it when he let his seed go to waste.
His jaw ached when Castle finally pulled out.
"You may touch me."
Carefully, Fuyuki licked away any remaining trace of seed from Castle's member before gently tucking him back into his pants. He schooled his expression into a polite mask before looking up.
"Did I please you, master?"
Castle's hand caressed the side of Fuyuki's face and he smiled down at him. "You did, my angel."
His thumb pressed against Fuyuki's lips, and he obediently took it into his mouth.
"I'd like you on your stomach."
The hand pulled away so that he could answer.
"Yes, master."
Fuyuki stood. He kept his gaze on the floor, purposely not looking at the array of items set out on the low table next to the futon. He crawled across the futon on his hands and knees and lay on top of the covers, legs spread, face in the pillow, hands gripping the mattress above his head in anticipation. Castle's footsteps echoed through the room. He moved closer and paused in front of the table. Silence stretched out as Castle contemplated his options.
All the items currently on the table were usually kept in a wooden chest hidden in the back corner of the room, buried away until Castle came to visit. There were cuffs and chains and spreader bars, ropes and cords, whips, paddles, riding crops, and flogs. Fuyuki had experienced every one of them, and he feared them as much as he feared Castle.
He heard Castle pick something up off of the table. The futon dipped between his legs as Castle dropped to his knees behind him. Firm leather trailed from Fuyuki's neck to the base of his spine. He shivered. Apparently Castle wanted to use the crop today.
The first hit came as a surprise. It always did. He bit down on the pillow to muffle his scream. Castle waited for him to relax before hitting him again. The crop rained down along his skin, blazing a methodical trail of blows up and down his back. Each scream made the next hit come harder, faster, exciting Castle with his pain.
Castle shifted backwards, moving his attention from Fuyuki's back to his ass and his thighs. Fuyuki screamed loudly and tore at the sheets as a particularly hard hit landed directly across his tailbone. His labored breaths turned to sobs. Tears made the pillowcase wet under his cheeks.
A hand grabbed Fuyuki by the hair and pulled, arching him backwards towards Castle. He whimpered as the movement tightened the welts on his back.
"Beg for me."
A sharp swat landed on one cheek, right next to Fuyuki's opening. He screamed and trembled in Castle's grasp.
"Please stop," he begged. His voice was hoarse from screaming. "No more. I'll be good. I promise. Please."
"Not good enough." Another swat landed on his other cheek, mirroring the location of the first.
"Please! Oh, gods, please stop. Please."
"Not good enough."
He felt Castle move, heard the crop being set down and another implement being picked up. It only took one hit to figure out what it was. Castle had switched to the flog. The thin strips of leather cracked as the hit his back, digging deeper into his flesh than the crop had. Where the crop stung, the flog bit. Castle hit him with it, again and again until his back burned in pain, reddened into one large welt. He kept going, hitting Fuyuki until his skin blistered and broke. The acrid smell of blood filled the air. He could feel it, trailing in thin rivulets down his back and burning whenever it touched one of the lash marks.
Castle pulled his head back again but he couldn't beg this time, he was too far gone for words. He sobbed uncontrollably, but that seemed to be the response Castle wanted. Castle released his hair and Fuyuki fell forward limply against the mattress, his whole body trembling with pain and terror.
"Such a good boy," Castle murmured his approval. His fingers caressed the marks he'd made, occasionally pressing down on one of the welts and laughing as it made Fuyuki's sobs hitch.
"Turn over."
It took him a few tries to get his legs to move. Shakily, he lifted himself off of the futon and rolled over onto his back. He cried out, arching away from the mattress as the fabric touched his raw skin. Castle's hands pushed him down until he lay flat, the touch of fabric against his back blazing a solid line of pain from thighs to shoulders. Castle was grinning at him, his pants bulging with hardness. He watched as Castle shifted away for a moment, unbuttoning his pants and letting his erection out into the air once more. He moved back into place and waited expectantly. Fuyuki's body screamed in protest as he lifted his legs, but he ignored the pain as much as he could. His body shook as he wrapped his legs around Castle's hips and stretched his arms above his head. He lay as still as he could with the occasional tremor of pain running through him and waited.
The manacles were in easy reach of the futon. Castle stretched over him to attach first one, then the other around Fuyuki's wrists, binding them tightly. He attached the manacles to a small length of chain set in the floor above Fuyuki's head. A small scream escaped Fuyuki's lips as Castle picked him up by the hips, fingers digging into reddened flesh. Castle lined up with ease and quickly shoved inside.
A look of pure pleasure crossed Castle's face as he buried himself in Fuyuki, the whimper of pain he drove from Fuyuki's lips only increasing his pleasure. They stayed frozen like that for several minutes, the stillness of the room broken by Fuyuki's harsh sobs. Castle was watching him, his eyes intent, his lips curled into a smug smirk. He liked to watch Fuyuki's face whenever he fucked him. Tears rolled down Fuyuki's face, slowly stilling as his body relaxed into its new position. He used the brief pause to catch his breath, knowing that the night was far from over.
Castle's hips moved slowly at first, making Fuyuki whimper with every thrust. The angle Castle held him at made Fuyuki's back slide against the covers, scratching against the bleeding welts. Their pace gradually quickened, gaining more force as they went, driving Fuyuki harder and faster against the sheets until he was crying non-stop again. Castle's fingers dug into his hips hard enough that the bruises would stay for days, controlling their movements as he thrust in and out, over and over again. The chains rattled above Fuyuki's head, reminding him of bells.
"Quiet."
Fuyuki bit his lip, trying to comply, but true silence was impossible. He hurt, so much, and he couldn't stop crying. Faint moans escaped his lips every few seconds.
"I told you to be quiet."
Castle grinned manically as his hand closed around Fuyuki's throat.
"N-"
Fuyuki's protest was cut off as Castle's hand squeezed, cutting off Fuyuki's air supply. He panicked. He didn't like it when Castle did this, though that was the point. He tugged on the chains but Castle had secured them tightly. The metal dug into his wrists. He'd have marks there too. Castle was slamming into him, hard enough that Fuyuki would have had trouble walking tomorrow, even without all the welts.
Castle's hand didn't let go. Normally, when he did this, he'd squeeze long enough to make Fuyuki panic and then let go, let him get a breath of air, and then start again. It prolonged Fuyuki's torture that way, keeping him on the edge of breathlessness for hours until he finally passed out. But Castle's fingers weren't letting up. Fuyuki had a feeling that Castle wasn't going to let go this time.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the door open. If he had the breath to scream, he would have but Castle had denied him that. Lack of oxygen was starting to make the corners of the room blur. He didn't like the way Castle was grinning. He feebly kicked at Castle, trying to get the man off of him, but Castle just grabbed his ankle, twisting it painfully in his free hand.
The strange man approached slowly. He wore the same black robes as the last time Fuyuki had seen him. Even in the brightly lit room, shadows seemed to cling to him, obscuring part of his form and giving him a blurry outline, like his clothing was fading away at the edges. He was watching Fuyuki intently, and there was only one way Fuyuki could interpret that.
He was going to die. Castle was going to kill him and the god of death had come to collect him.
He must have passed out briefly. Fuyuki blinked and suddenly the man was standing behind Castle, scythe unsheathed. Belatedly, he realized that he could breathe slightly. Castle's hand was still around his throat but his fingers had relaxed somewhat. From the look on Castle's face, he'd just come inside of Fuyuki, pleasure making him ease up, just for a moment, before they continued. He wondered if he'd live to see what torment Castle had devised next.
"Help... me..." Fuyuki whispered, staring directly at the stranger.
Castle frowned. He turned, opening his mouth to speak, but not words came out. His eyes passed over the stranger without seeing him. The scythe descended. Crimson blood formed a wide arc along the opposite wall, droplets fanning across the wood floor. Castle toppled onto his side, his back to Fuyuki. Blood pooled below his head and spread out in an expanding pool.
He drew in breath to scream. A cool hand over his mouth cut him off.
"Don't."
The stranger's voice was soft and low. It had an almost instant calming effect on Fuyuki. He relaxed against his restraints and nodded.
With one hand, the stranger lifted Castle by the hair and pulled him off of Fuyuki, dropping him next to the low table. Fuyuki avoided looking at the smear of blood that Castle left on the floor. After he'd dropped Castle, the stranger reached down and grabbed Castle's shadow. It came away from the floor whenever the stranger pulled, hanging limply from his hand. He poured it from his palm into a jug slung around his shoulder. Fuyuki wondered how he'd missed seeing the jug earlier. It was large enough that it should be obvious but he found his vision sliding away from it, always settling on some other feature of the man. The stranger caped the jug and slid it back into obscurity in the folds of his robes.
"What... are... you?" Fuyuki croaked. His throat felt tight, making speaking both difficult and painful.
The stranger turned back to him and quirked an eyebrow. "Shinigami."
Fuyuki shivered. He remembered his grandmother telling him stories about the shinigami, the gods of death who wandered Japan, collecting souls. Was the shinigami going to kill him and take his shadow too?
The stranger crossed back to Fuyuki and knelt to undo the manacles around Fuyuki's wrists. He flinched as the man came close, but the shinigami was gentle as he pulled the metal away from Fuyuki's skin. His mind was starting to drift, a sign he'd long ago come to recognize as a warning that he was going to pass out shortly. He couldn't seem to stop shaking. His whole body hurt. Despite the pain, he was finding it incredibly difficult to stay awake. He whimpered as he felt one of the stranger's arms work its way under his knees, started to warn him but cut himself off as the man lifted him suddenly.
Fuyuki screamed. He felt fabric under his cheek, soaking up his tears. The man moved and Fuyuki was swallowed by darkness.
*****
He woke to a strange sky above him. Clouds the color of dying embers filled the sky, leaving the world dimly lit. If there was anything beyond the clouds, he couldn't see it. All around them was a broken landscape of rust-colored rock and an occasional scraggly black tree. Fuyuki rested against one of those trees, though he had no recollection of how he'd gotten there.
It seemed like a tremendous effort to tear his eyes away from the far off sky and focus on the shinigami kneeling in front of him. He had Fuyuki's ankle in his hands. White bandages twined around his flesh, slowly covering the dark bruises Castle had left there. He was naked still, save for an assortment of bandages, though he didn't feel cold like he should.
The man glanced up at him, a frown sliding across his face. He reached up and ran his fingers across Fuyuki's brow.
"Go to sleep," the shinigami said, and Fuyuki did.
*****
When Fuyuki next woke, he was lying on a futon in a small, traditionally styled room. The floor was covered in tatami mats, the walls a mix of wood and paper screens. One of the screen doors stood open to his right, revealing a covered wooden walkway and snow-capped mountains beyond. The sky was overcast. Aside from the futon, there was little else in the room - frames of pressed flowers on the walls and a small table in the corner with a wash basin and a vase of pink flowers.
Slowly, Fuyuki eased himself upright. He whimpered as his collection of injuries protested the movement, but he still managed to force himself to sit up. Standing was much harder. At some point he'd been dressed in a black yukata. Simple silver embroidery lined the hems in two straight lines, though that was the only decoration on the fabric. He momentarily balanced on his knees and tightened the cloth belt around his waist, securing the fabric more firmly around his body. Slowly, he placed his weight on his right foot. He trembled with effort, biting his lip to keep silent as he painfully raised himself onto both feet.
His effort turned out to be for naught. As soon as he put weight on his left foot, pain shot through him like a lance. He screamed and pitched forward, landing half on the futon, half on the floor.
The sound of running feet made him freeze. The door in the left wall slammed open and he stared at the surprised-looking woman who stood in the doorway. She wore a pale blue kimono, the fabric rolled up to her knees. It reminded him of the maids at the House of Falling Leaves. More footsteps approached at a more sedate pace and the woman was joined by two others, one much older and one much younger. The youngest of the trio seemed to be about Fuyuki's age, possibly younger.
"Ah," the old woman exclaimed, her face breaking into a wrinkled smile as she stepped into the room. "You woke up."
"I'm sorry," he apologized reflexively, not sure what he was apologizing for but his brain insisted that he must have inconvenienced them in some way worthy of apology. His voice rasped and he winced at the pain in his throat.
He blushed as he realized that the disarray of his limbs left his legs exposed. It hurt to move his left leg but he still tried, modesty demanding that he at least attempt to cover himself. He floundered. His limbs were shaking too much to be of any use.
"Lie still," the woman in the blue kimono said. She crossed the room in two quick strides and knelt next to Fuyuki.
He couldn't hide his flinches as she touched him, or the whimpers of pain as she helped him lie back on the futon. His back exploded in pain as the futon pressed against the welts on his back. He barely choked back a scream, his vision going blurry for a brief minute. The woman seemed to sense his distress. She helped him roll onto his stomach. The movement hurt, but he found it much more comfortable lying on his stomach instead.
"Shh," the woman murmured in an attempt to soothe him. "You're safe now."
"Am I dead?"
The woman looked shocked, but the old lady just chuckled.
"No, no. Hurt, yes, but far from dead."
Tension drained from Fuyuki's body and he let himself relax against the futon. He wasn't sure why the shinigami hadn't killed him, but he wasn't going to question his luck. His body was urging him back into sleep but his mind was too active for that, curious about where he was and why he was with the three women.
"Who are you?" He asked.
The old woman smiled at him as she settled onto the floor near Fuyuki's head. Her voice was gravely, reminding him of the brush of sandpaper on wood. "I'm Sagamiya Shouko. This is my house. This," she gestured to the woman in the blue kimono, "is my daughter, Mitsuko, and my granddaughter, Miyuko." The young woman smiled timidly at him from the hallway. She'd yet to take a step into the room. "My son-in-law, Hakuto, is away right now, but he should return in a day or two." She paused for a short moment and seemed to contemplate the wooden walls around them. "Also, there are Chiya and Ayami, but you will meet them later." Her grin widened. "We're all friends of Shin-san."
The name didn't seem familiar. "Shin-san?"
"Your friend, the Shinigami."
His eyes widened in startlement. The shinigami - Shin - must have left him here. He wanted to protest that the shinigami wasn't his friend, that they'd only just met, but he didn't want them to take that as a sign to throw him out. "Is that his name? Shin?"
Shouko chuckled. "I think not. It's what I have always called him, and he has never corrected it."
"Where is he?" He wanted to see Shin again, partially to thank him and partially to have something familiar near. His nerves were still going haywire. He felt panicked, trapped by his inability to move, and he wanted the shinigami near in case someone tried to hurt him again.
"Not here," Shouko said. "He has gone wherever it is that shinigami go." Mitsuko's face twisted briefly in unease as Shouko spoke, before returning to a pleasant, if muted, smile.
"Will he be back?"
"Who knows. He stops in from time to time, but I think the hours pass differently for him."
"Oh." He couldn't hide the disappointment in his voice, though it seemed to only make the women smile more.
"Rest now," Shouko said. "Recover your strength. He'll return soon enough."
The women bid him polite goodbyes and left him to sleep. His thoughts drifted to the House of Falling Leaves, and what the owner would think when he found Castle dead and Fuyuki gone. It took a while before he could sleep.
*****
There was a wind chime hanging outside of his room. He could hear it, every so often, letting out a faint peal of bells that tugged at his memory. They'd left the outer door partially open to let in the breeze. The wind was slightly cold but not unpleasantly so. It felt good against his too warm skin. He wondered if he had a fever. That happened often after Castle visited. He'd be useless for days but the money Castle paid more than made up for the loss of business.
Memories of the House of Falling Leaves blended into the present and he wondered when the next client would come.
Fuyuki drifted in and out of consciousness. He lost track of time. Sometimes it was dark, sometimes light. The three women came and went, but more often than not he was alone. Most often he saw the mother as she helped him eat and brought him to the toilet. Movement hurt and he dreaded the times when the mother came and made him move, even if his body needed it. All he wanted to do was sleep until the pain faded away.
He woke at one point to darkness and the feeling of fingers threading through his hair. Fuyuki shifted his head, turning towards the body attached to the hand. His eyes didn't quite want to focus. He was mostly certain that it was a man, dressed in black clothing, and that was enough for him to hazard a guess.
"Shin-san?"
The hand stilled but didn't move away.
He closed his eyes and relaxed against the futon. He moved one of his hands, sliding it from beneath the covers to lightly grip the shinigami's robe.
"Stay?"
The hand started to move again, slowly carding through his hair. "I will."
He slept, feeling safe and protected for the first time in days.
Part Two
Author: Gryvon
Fandom: Original
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 13,285
Kink: Courtesans/Geisha, Death
Warnings: Slash, Torture, Violence, Death
Summary: Fuyuki is a courtesan at the House of Falling Leaves. One night he wakes to find Death walking the halls.
Thanks to starshines for the image!
Something was wrong.
Fuyuki woke slowly, his brain forcing him grudgingly into consciousness. He waited, still as a rabbit, while his eyes adjusted. The lantern in the hall cast faint light into the room through the paper door, casting the room in a soft tan hue without really providing much in the way of illumination. The client beside him snored softly, one thick, meaty arm holding Fuyuki against the futon.
He heard bells. They were distant at first, so faint that he thought it was just ringing in his ears, but getting closer. They chimed softly in a regular pattern, low enough that they would have been inaudible during peak business hours but growing louder with each passing second. The light flickered, dropping the room into darkness for a moment. A new shadow appeared when the light returned, moving at a steady pace past the screen. The sound of the bells moved with it. The shadow was roughly human shaped, taller than normal with blurred edges, like the person, whoever it was, was just a shadow and nothing more. There were no footfalls - neither the heavy thud of their clients, the shuffling gait of the owner, or the soft steps of the maids.
The sound of the bells had woken him, he was certain, but the strangeness of this man was what had kept him from dismissing the sound and slipping back into sleep. Whoever this man was, his very demeanor screamed 'outsider'.
Fuyuki held perfectly still as the stranger passed, not daring to even breathe. Outsiders meant danger and he didn't want the stranger know that he had woken. He let out his breath in a soft sigh as soon as the shadow moved past Fuyuki's room. The sound of bells receded, and Fuyuki pictured the stranger turning the corner at the end of the hall.
Slowly, he slid out from under his client's arms and moved towards the edge of the futon, doing his best to not wake the man. He crawled across the floor towards the door, pausing halfway to pull on a discarded robe. The silken fabric slid over his shoulders, briefly irritating the scrapes on his back before settling around his thin frame. He belted it loosely as he knelt next to the door.
Cautiously, Fuyuki slid the screen open far enough to peek out into the hall. It was empty and quiet, exactly as it should be this late at night. He widened the opening and stuck his head out, glancing either way down the hall. All of the doors were shut. He couldn't hear the bells. For a brief second, he wondered if he'd dreamed it, but his dreams had never been that vivid nor were they usually that unnerving.
New customers weren't allowed on the premises this late. Only established patrons were granted the privilege of having a warm body to themselves all night, and even that came with a heavy cost. Daijin was working the gate tonight, and he was stricter than most of the guards, though that was only because it kept his work to a minimum. Whoever it was that he'd seen wandering the halls, they weren't supposed to be here.
The door slid aside with a soft hiss. He stepped out into the hallway, his bare feet making little sound against the wooden floor. The shadow had disappeared to the left and so that was the direction Fuyuki headed. He peeked cautiously around the corner but there was no one there. His feet made soft thuds as he padded along the hallway, moving slowly and trying to make as little sound as possible. Stealth had never been his forte as a child, but his years here had taught him to be quiet, to move from place to place with as little sound as possible and attract as little attention to himself as he could.
Logically, he knew he should turn back. If there was an outsider in the compound, it couldn't mean anything good. Sometimes the owner had men in to visit, investors or prospective clients, but that kind of business was handled during the day. He couldn't help but think that the stranger's purpose for being here was a bit nefarious. His very presence, just knowing that the man was in the building, set his nerves on edge. He shouldn't care. It wasn't his business. He shouldn't be creeping through the halls at night. If he woke one of the guests, the owner would be very displeased with him.
Curiosity carried him forward along the hallway. It ended at a crossroads. Fuyuki stared down the two branches, trying to figure out which way the man could have gone. He took a hesitant step to the left, then froze as a faint chime sounded to his right. He was certain that the stranger was about to step out into the hallway and catch him. There was no movement, and the sound didn't come again.
Fuyuki crept towards the sound. Halfway down the hall, one of the doors stood open a bare crack. That was Aki's room. Aki was one of the youngest among them and still new enough and young enough that he drew a fair share of clientele because of it. He was timid but nice, and Fuyuki enjoyed his company on the rare times they were offered any leisure.
He knelt as he neared the door and crept forward on his hands and knees until he could peek into the room. Aki was asleep on the futon. There was a large, rotund man partially covering him. The man's face was hidden by Aki's body but Fuyuki still recognized him easily enough. An involuntary shudder ran through him as he remembered the last time he'd had the 'pleasure' of the man's company. Another year and Aki would be old enough that the client would lose interest in him. If Aki's experience with the man was similar to what Fuyuki remembered, Aki would be counting the days until his birthday eagerly.
At first glance, everything seemed as it should. The client slept fitfully, but that was standard. He was a restless sleeper, prone to tossing and turning at night. Judging by the marks on Aki's exposed skin, it was obvious that he'd been with Aki for most of the evening.
Then, one of the shadows moved. Fuyuki barely stopped himself from jumping. He bit back a surprised gasp and held himself as still as possible as the shadow stretched forward towards Aki.
Fuyuki shivered again. Suddenly the hallway seemed colder than before. There was a man in the room with Aki and the client, his back to Fuyuki. He was tall, likely a foreigner, with dark hair and pale skin that shone dully in the faint light. The man reached up over his head, thin fingers closing in a space Fuyuki would have sworn was empty. Shadows rippled through the air like cloth, then were discarded in a heap on the floor. As they fell away, a long pole emerged, though it was hard to make out in the darkness. The black metal blended into the shadows. At first he thought it was just a strange sort of walking stick, maybe a staff, but then light glinted off something in the air that made him reconsider.
The man stepped closer to Aki. The fingers of both hands curled around the haft of the scythe. Fuyuki stared in fascinated horror as the weapon was raised, but he couldn't watch it fall. He squeezed his eyes shut and said a silent prayer for Aki. He imagined the blade falling, painting the sheets crimson with blood. There were no screams, just silence. He waited. When he opened his eyes again, he noticed three things. First, there was no blood. Both of the people lying on the futon were unhurt, at least as far as he could see. Second, Aki was still alive. He turned slightly in his sleep, rolling away from the client and moaning softly. He stayed asleep. Third, the stranger had turned and now stared directly at Fuyuki.
He was the kind of man that Fuyuki wished made up their clientele - handsome, if a bit pale, but a world better looking than most of the men that Fuyuki met. He had foreign features, a strong jaw, and bright blue eyes that focused on Fuyuki with a look of surprise.
The man took a step towards him.
Fuyuki scrambled backwards. He stumbled unsteadily to his feet and ran. Practice made him move quietly, even in his haste. He skidded around the corner as the door to Aki's room slid open. Bells chimed faintly. Fuyuki turned the corner again and half dove into his room. He paused inside the doorway, shoving down his initial instinct to slam the door shut behind him. He slid it mostly shut and then very gently closed it, making no sound. The bells were coming closer. Peeling off his robe, he shoved it under the cushion of a plush chair by the door, making certain none of it peeked out.
His client stirred as Fuyuki crawled back under the covers. He turned his face towards the client. Thankfully he seemed to still be asleep. The bells stopped outside of his door. Fuyuki arranged the long strands of his hair to obscure his face. He dropped his hand back under the covers as the door opened, shedding a thin shaft of light across his client's face. Fuyuki held very still and tried to breathe normally. Closing his eyes he prayed for the man to move on, to forget about him and leave.
Seconds passed. It felt like an eternity. His heart thundered, and he was certain that the stranger would be able to hear it. He felt like it was going to explode out of his chest.
Fuyuki didn't want to die.
Fabric rustled, and in his head Fuyuki pictured the man shifting on his feet. Minutes passed. He didn't dare move. The waiting was driving him mad. He wished the man would just go away, or do something, anything but this silence. He wanted to stand up, to admit what he'd seen, just so the man could kill him and it'd be over. Terror kept him still.
The door slid shut, trapping Fuyuki in the darkness. He waited. The man could be trying to trick him. Bells chimed, breaking the silence. They moved away, receding down the hall and then fading away entirely. He waited still, until long after the sound was gone.
A heavy arm fell across Fuyuki's chest. He jumped, biting his lip hard enough to draw blood as he stopped himself from screaming. His client snored loudly and curled closer to Fuyuki, drawing Fuyuki towards him. He tensed, but the client didn't wake, blissfully unaware of everything that had happened.
Slowly, Fuyuki uncurled his body, stretching out next to his client. He lay awake for a long time, thinking about the bells.
*****
Fuyuki missed breakfast the next morning thanks to his client's persistent attention as soon as he'd woke. It was nearly noon by the time the client finished. He kissed Fuyuki with bold familiarity as he left, murmuring promises to return again. It was a credit to Fuyuki's training that he held back a shudder.
As soon as the client was gone, Fuyuki pulled his robe out from under the chair and slipped it on. It was wrinkled, but he wasn't planning on going far. He crossed to the back wall, stepping behind a paper screen to the back door. It slid aside silently, oiled well enough that it could be opened and closed without a sound, allowing servants to slip through unnoticed. Fuyuki stepped down to the stone walkway. The stone was cold against his bare feet, but he barely noticed it.
There was only one other occupant in the bathing room whenever he walked in. Kiriya seemed to be asleep. He lounged in a corner with a towel over his face, not moving as Fuyuki dropped his robe in the laundry bin and washed himself off thoroughly, scrubbing off his client's touch as much as possible. The bath water was blissfully hot when he stepped in. He settled onto one of the benches opposite Kiriya, sliding down until his chin was submerged. The hot water helped alleviate some of his tension.
Exhaustion and hunger drove him from the water before too long. If he was going to fall asleep, he'd rather do so in his bed, and he needed lunch in his stomach before he could sleep, assuming he was given time to.
An assortment of plain-colored robed hung in a nook near the doorway. Fuyuki dried himself off and chose a black one, finding the color strangely fitting in honor of the night's visitor. Theories swirled in his head, but he ignored them. He wasn't much for superstition, though he'd heard enough of them from his grandmother when he was much younger. Still, practicality couldn't explain away shadows that moved, the scythe, or a man with no footsteps. A few names came to mind, none of them particularly good - Grim Reaper, Shinigami, Death....
His stomach growled and he put thoughts of the strange man out of his mind.
The servants' dining hall was unusually noisy when he approached, though the voices weren't overly loud. They all knew better than to let their voices carry into the public rooms where a client could overhear. He was distracted as he walked in, busy trying to pull his long, wet hair into some semblance of order, so it took a few minutes for the scene before him to fully register. Aki sat in the center of a large huddle of people, obviously distraught. Most of the older boys were around him, offering comfort.
Fuyuki tapped Shizuka on the shoulder, waiting until the boy looked up from his meal before speaking. "What happened?" His eyes never left Aki.
Shizuka shrugged. "No one knows," he said before scooping a large clump of rice into his mouth. "Aki's client died last night. Good riddance, I say. Doctor Hitsuga's looking at him now."
The blood drained from his face. Shizuka must have mistaken the look for shock because he patted Fuyuki lightly on the arm and shot him a sympathetic look.
"These things happen. I'm sure they'll clear Aki of fault."
Fuyuki nodded dumbly. He turned towards the kitchen, moving mechanically. One of the cooks handed him a plate. He barely noticed the sympathetic look she sent his way or what was on his plate. His appetite had fled, but he ate anyways.
Shizuka was older, but still relatively new to the House of Falling Leaves. He'd been here for four or five years, Fuyuki had been here for eleven. Client deaths were rare. Fuyuki could only remember two others. They never ended well. Four years ago, it had been quiet. Heart attack from over exertion, no one to miss him, no complaints. The client had disappeared overnight. Seven years ago... Fuyuki shuddered. He'd been a child then, still reeling from the horrible lifestyle he'd been shoved into. A client had died then too. Again, a natural death, but the client's family had involved themselves. They'd insisted that one of the boys had been responsible and railed at the owner until a culprit had been named. The owner had gathered them all in the courtyard and forced them to watch the boy being beaten. He could still hear the screams, echoing in the back of his mind.
"It'll be alright." Kiriya laid a hand on Fuyuki's shoulder. His skin was still warm from the bath. "Aki will be fine."
Fuyuki didn't look up from his plate. He'd barely eaten half of his food. It tasted like ash.
He should say something. The owner would be furious for months because of this. He hated it when anything went wrong. He'd be even angrier if the client had family. They could demand restitution, and the owner hated losing money. If word got out, there was a chance that they might temporarily lose business.
If he said something, the owner likely wouldn't believe him. He barely believed it himself. If he said something, the owner would think he was involved. Fuyuki had often expressed his hatred for that particular client. The man had been one of Fuyuki's first clients and he enjoyed making it hurt. He'd ben a cruel man. The world would be better off without him. Their lives would be better without him.
He didn't want to be punished. His best hope was to stay quiet and hope for the best. Aki would be fine. The owner liked him. A few tears and Aki would be forgiven, he hoped.
*****
Work kept Fuyuki from thinking too much about the stranger. Days stretched into weeks, and little was heard about the client's death after that first morning. If Aki had been punished, it hadn't been public. Rumor held that Aki had warmed the owner's bed for a few nights. No one said how the client had died.
Occasionally Fuyuki would catch himself watching the gates through the windows in the common room, waiting for a dark-haired, handsome, pale foreigner to come request his services. The stranger never came and Fuyuki's days stretched on in a haze of spreading his legs for older men. One of his clients brought him a set of wind chimes as a gift. He hung it where there was the least chance of a breeze. His wardrobe reflected his mood, slowly shifting to hold more blacks and silvers and reds. He was told it looked good on him.
Summer blurred into Fall, Fall to Winter. Inside the complex walls, the only difference in the seasons was in how many blankets were left on the futons and how chilled their clients' skin was when they first came in. Instead of chilled wine, they served hot sake. The sex was always the same.
Out of all of Fuyuki's regular clients, his least favorite was a foreigner who went by the name of Castle. He had expensive tastes and a thing for long-haired beauties. Whenever Castle visited, he'd send notice at least a week in advance. Fuyuki's rooms were cleaned until they were spotless. Fuyuki wore his best kimono to meet Castle. The owner personally inspected him to make sure his skin was smooth and soft. The bustle of preparation only served to build an increasing sense of dread in Fuyuki's stomach.
Fuyuki pasted a smile on his face as the door slid open. He bowed deeply and waited, his head pressed to his hands on the floor until Castle stood over him. They had a routine. Castle laughed merrily, protesting the formality as he helped Fuyuki to his feet, but Fuyuki knew it was expected of him. Castle was the kind of man that got off on subservience and control. As soon as he was on his feet, Castle pulled him into a possessive kiss. He tasted like beer and cigarettes.
He sat on Castle's knees and exclaimed in feigned delight over the present Castle had brought him. The box was wrapped in gilded paper, equally ornate on the inside. Each of the six pieces of chocolate was nestled in a cup of golden tin. Castle hand-fed the first piece to Fuyuki, declining Fuyuki's offer to share. He played up the sensuality of it - moaning in pleasure at the taste, sucking lightly on Castle's fingers as they pushed a piece of chocolate into his mouth, growing bolder in his attentions with each one. The chocolate sank like a weight in his stomach. He prayed it wouldn't come back up later.
The box was set aside halfway through. Castle's hands slipped inside Fuyuki's kimono, sliding gently under the fold to caress bare skin. They kissed slowly. He didn't mind these languid moments, when Castle was nice and they were almost like lovers. In the beginning of their evening, Castle was always gentle, always eager in his exploration of Fuyuki's skin, like he wanted to memorize the feel of him before he went away for another month or two.
Castle peeled Fuyuki's kimono off of him, letting it slip off to pool over Castle's lap and then shifting them until he could slide the fabric out from underneath Fuyuki. Castle's erection poked into his thighs but Castle made no move to undress himself and Fuyuki knew better than to try.
After several more languid kisses, Castle had Fuyuki stand briefly so that he could rearrange Fuyuki across his lap. He straddled Castle's thighs, his legs dangling from the arms of the chair. There was a discreet pot left out on the table next to them. Castle uncapped it and dipped his fingers inside with practiced familiarity. Three slick fingers pressed inside of Fuyuki at once, making him keen softly in pain as he was stretched too quickly. Castle was watching him intently. He smiled as Fuyuki's hands clenched against the shoulders of Castle's coat. His fingers worked slowly inside of Fuyuki, bobbing in and out, occasionally spreading wide and making Fuyuki gasp. Castle gave him time to get used to the thickness of his fingers, coating his insides liberally with oil.
"Good boy," Castle murmured. His teeth played along the rim of Fuyuki's ear, making him shiver and gasp. Castle knew exactly how to play him to get the reaction he wanted. They'd been meeting long enough that Castle knew which spots made him gasp and which made him moan. He knew how far he could push Fuyuki towards pain while still keeping Fuyuki tied up in pleasure. "Such a pretty boy."
Teeth bit down on his ear, thankfully not hard enough to draw blood. He cried out in pain and jerked backwards, involuntarily spearing himself on Castle's fingers.
Castle laughed and did it again. His smile turned wicked and he continued to push Fuyuki closer and closer towards the border where his pleasure turned sour.
"Who do you belong to?" Castle asked after a while. His voice was thick with lust. The time for gentleness was coming to a close.
Fuyuki lowered his gaze to hide the terror in his eyes and smoothed down the front of Castle's coat, erasing the wrinkles he'd put there. "You, master."
Castle's fingers withdrew. He wiped them on a handkerchief pulled from his pocket and discarded it with Fuyuki's clothes.
"Enough." A hard slap landed on Fuyuki's ass, signaling that he should stand.
He kept his eyes meekly down as he carefully crawled off of the chair. He stepped back just far enough to give Castle room to stand.
"On your knees."
Fuyuki dropped on the spot. He clasped his hands behind his back and opened his mouth wide. Castle stood in front of him, opening his pants and pulling out his straining erection. One hand guided his erection into Fuyuki's waiting mouth, the other closed in Fuyuki's hair and pulled his head forward. He held as still as he could, closing his eyes to help concentrate on breathing. Castle filled his mouth, pushing his way in until Fuyuki's nose touched flesh. He closed his mouth and did his best to suck and lick at the salty flesh that filled him.
Castle controlled their movements, keeping Fuyuki's head steady while he pushed his way down Fuyuki's throat. It hurt, much like everything did when Castle was involved. His hands pulled at Fuyuki's hair. His hips occasionally slammed too hard against Fuyuki's nose. Practice kept him from choking but it didn't help him breathe. Thankfully, it didn't take long for Castle to come. Seed shot down Fuyuki's throat and he did his best to swallow as much as he could, using his tongue to chase down any stray droplets. Castle hated it when he let his seed go to waste.
His jaw ached when Castle finally pulled out.
"You may touch me."
Carefully, Fuyuki licked away any remaining trace of seed from Castle's member before gently tucking him back into his pants. He schooled his expression into a polite mask before looking up.
"Did I please you, master?"
Castle's hand caressed the side of Fuyuki's face and he smiled down at him. "You did, my angel."
His thumb pressed against Fuyuki's lips, and he obediently took it into his mouth.
"I'd like you on your stomach."
The hand pulled away so that he could answer.
"Yes, master."
Fuyuki stood. He kept his gaze on the floor, purposely not looking at the array of items set out on the low table next to the futon. He crawled across the futon on his hands and knees and lay on top of the covers, legs spread, face in the pillow, hands gripping the mattress above his head in anticipation. Castle's footsteps echoed through the room. He moved closer and paused in front of the table. Silence stretched out as Castle contemplated his options.
All the items currently on the table were usually kept in a wooden chest hidden in the back corner of the room, buried away until Castle came to visit. There were cuffs and chains and spreader bars, ropes and cords, whips, paddles, riding crops, and flogs. Fuyuki had experienced every one of them, and he feared them as much as he feared Castle.
He heard Castle pick something up off of the table. The futon dipped between his legs as Castle dropped to his knees behind him. Firm leather trailed from Fuyuki's neck to the base of his spine. He shivered. Apparently Castle wanted to use the crop today.
The first hit came as a surprise. It always did. He bit down on the pillow to muffle his scream. Castle waited for him to relax before hitting him again. The crop rained down along his skin, blazing a methodical trail of blows up and down his back. Each scream made the next hit come harder, faster, exciting Castle with his pain.
Castle shifted backwards, moving his attention from Fuyuki's back to his ass and his thighs. Fuyuki screamed loudly and tore at the sheets as a particularly hard hit landed directly across his tailbone. His labored breaths turned to sobs. Tears made the pillowcase wet under his cheeks.
A hand grabbed Fuyuki by the hair and pulled, arching him backwards towards Castle. He whimpered as the movement tightened the welts on his back.
"Beg for me."
A sharp swat landed on one cheek, right next to Fuyuki's opening. He screamed and trembled in Castle's grasp.
"Please stop," he begged. His voice was hoarse from screaming. "No more. I'll be good. I promise. Please."
"Not good enough." Another swat landed on his other cheek, mirroring the location of the first.
"Please! Oh, gods, please stop. Please."
"Not good enough."
He felt Castle move, heard the crop being set down and another implement being picked up. It only took one hit to figure out what it was. Castle had switched to the flog. The thin strips of leather cracked as the hit his back, digging deeper into his flesh than the crop had. Where the crop stung, the flog bit. Castle hit him with it, again and again until his back burned in pain, reddened into one large welt. He kept going, hitting Fuyuki until his skin blistered and broke. The acrid smell of blood filled the air. He could feel it, trailing in thin rivulets down his back and burning whenever it touched one of the lash marks.
Castle pulled his head back again but he couldn't beg this time, he was too far gone for words. He sobbed uncontrollably, but that seemed to be the response Castle wanted. Castle released his hair and Fuyuki fell forward limply against the mattress, his whole body trembling with pain and terror.
"Such a good boy," Castle murmured his approval. His fingers caressed the marks he'd made, occasionally pressing down on one of the welts and laughing as it made Fuyuki's sobs hitch.
"Turn over."
It took him a few tries to get his legs to move. Shakily, he lifted himself off of the futon and rolled over onto his back. He cried out, arching away from the mattress as the fabric touched his raw skin. Castle's hands pushed him down until he lay flat, the touch of fabric against his back blazing a solid line of pain from thighs to shoulders. Castle was grinning at him, his pants bulging with hardness. He watched as Castle shifted away for a moment, unbuttoning his pants and letting his erection out into the air once more. He moved back into place and waited expectantly. Fuyuki's body screamed in protest as he lifted his legs, but he ignored the pain as much as he could. His body shook as he wrapped his legs around Castle's hips and stretched his arms above his head. He lay as still as he could with the occasional tremor of pain running through him and waited.
The manacles were in easy reach of the futon. Castle stretched over him to attach first one, then the other around Fuyuki's wrists, binding them tightly. He attached the manacles to a small length of chain set in the floor above Fuyuki's head. A small scream escaped Fuyuki's lips as Castle picked him up by the hips, fingers digging into reddened flesh. Castle lined up with ease and quickly shoved inside.
A look of pure pleasure crossed Castle's face as he buried himself in Fuyuki, the whimper of pain he drove from Fuyuki's lips only increasing his pleasure. They stayed frozen like that for several minutes, the stillness of the room broken by Fuyuki's harsh sobs. Castle was watching him, his eyes intent, his lips curled into a smug smirk. He liked to watch Fuyuki's face whenever he fucked him. Tears rolled down Fuyuki's face, slowly stilling as his body relaxed into its new position. He used the brief pause to catch his breath, knowing that the night was far from over.
Castle's hips moved slowly at first, making Fuyuki whimper with every thrust. The angle Castle held him at made Fuyuki's back slide against the covers, scratching against the bleeding welts. Their pace gradually quickened, gaining more force as they went, driving Fuyuki harder and faster against the sheets until he was crying non-stop again. Castle's fingers dug into his hips hard enough that the bruises would stay for days, controlling their movements as he thrust in and out, over and over again. The chains rattled above Fuyuki's head, reminding him of bells.
"Quiet."
Fuyuki bit his lip, trying to comply, but true silence was impossible. He hurt, so much, and he couldn't stop crying. Faint moans escaped his lips every few seconds.
"I told you to be quiet."
Castle grinned manically as his hand closed around Fuyuki's throat.
"N-"
Fuyuki's protest was cut off as Castle's hand squeezed, cutting off Fuyuki's air supply. He panicked. He didn't like it when Castle did this, though that was the point. He tugged on the chains but Castle had secured them tightly. The metal dug into his wrists. He'd have marks there too. Castle was slamming into him, hard enough that Fuyuki would have had trouble walking tomorrow, even without all the welts.
Castle's hand didn't let go. Normally, when he did this, he'd squeeze long enough to make Fuyuki panic and then let go, let him get a breath of air, and then start again. It prolonged Fuyuki's torture that way, keeping him on the edge of breathlessness for hours until he finally passed out. But Castle's fingers weren't letting up. Fuyuki had a feeling that Castle wasn't going to let go this time.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the door open. If he had the breath to scream, he would have but Castle had denied him that. Lack of oxygen was starting to make the corners of the room blur. He didn't like the way Castle was grinning. He feebly kicked at Castle, trying to get the man off of him, but Castle just grabbed his ankle, twisting it painfully in his free hand.
The strange man approached slowly. He wore the same black robes as the last time Fuyuki had seen him. Even in the brightly lit room, shadows seemed to cling to him, obscuring part of his form and giving him a blurry outline, like his clothing was fading away at the edges. He was watching Fuyuki intently, and there was only one way Fuyuki could interpret that.
He was going to die. Castle was going to kill him and the god of death had come to collect him.
He must have passed out briefly. Fuyuki blinked and suddenly the man was standing behind Castle, scythe unsheathed. Belatedly, he realized that he could breathe slightly. Castle's hand was still around his throat but his fingers had relaxed somewhat. From the look on Castle's face, he'd just come inside of Fuyuki, pleasure making him ease up, just for a moment, before they continued. He wondered if he'd live to see what torment Castle had devised next.
"Help... me..." Fuyuki whispered, staring directly at the stranger.
Castle frowned. He turned, opening his mouth to speak, but not words came out. His eyes passed over the stranger without seeing him. The scythe descended. Crimson blood formed a wide arc along the opposite wall, droplets fanning across the wood floor. Castle toppled onto his side, his back to Fuyuki. Blood pooled below his head and spread out in an expanding pool.
He drew in breath to scream. A cool hand over his mouth cut him off.
"Don't."
The stranger's voice was soft and low. It had an almost instant calming effect on Fuyuki. He relaxed against his restraints and nodded.
With one hand, the stranger lifted Castle by the hair and pulled him off of Fuyuki, dropping him next to the low table. Fuyuki avoided looking at the smear of blood that Castle left on the floor. After he'd dropped Castle, the stranger reached down and grabbed Castle's shadow. It came away from the floor whenever the stranger pulled, hanging limply from his hand. He poured it from his palm into a jug slung around his shoulder. Fuyuki wondered how he'd missed seeing the jug earlier. It was large enough that it should be obvious but he found his vision sliding away from it, always settling on some other feature of the man. The stranger caped the jug and slid it back into obscurity in the folds of his robes.
"What... are... you?" Fuyuki croaked. His throat felt tight, making speaking both difficult and painful.
The stranger turned back to him and quirked an eyebrow. "Shinigami."
Fuyuki shivered. He remembered his grandmother telling him stories about the shinigami, the gods of death who wandered Japan, collecting souls. Was the shinigami going to kill him and take his shadow too?
The stranger crossed back to Fuyuki and knelt to undo the manacles around Fuyuki's wrists. He flinched as the man came close, but the shinigami was gentle as he pulled the metal away from Fuyuki's skin. His mind was starting to drift, a sign he'd long ago come to recognize as a warning that he was going to pass out shortly. He couldn't seem to stop shaking. His whole body hurt. Despite the pain, he was finding it incredibly difficult to stay awake. He whimpered as he felt one of the stranger's arms work its way under his knees, started to warn him but cut himself off as the man lifted him suddenly.
Fuyuki screamed. He felt fabric under his cheek, soaking up his tears. The man moved and Fuyuki was swallowed by darkness.
*****
He woke to a strange sky above him. Clouds the color of dying embers filled the sky, leaving the world dimly lit. If there was anything beyond the clouds, he couldn't see it. All around them was a broken landscape of rust-colored rock and an occasional scraggly black tree. Fuyuki rested against one of those trees, though he had no recollection of how he'd gotten there.
It seemed like a tremendous effort to tear his eyes away from the far off sky and focus on the shinigami kneeling in front of him. He had Fuyuki's ankle in his hands. White bandages twined around his flesh, slowly covering the dark bruises Castle had left there. He was naked still, save for an assortment of bandages, though he didn't feel cold like he should.
The man glanced up at him, a frown sliding across his face. He reached up and ran his fingers across Fuyuki's brow.
"Go to sleep," the shinigami said, and Fuyuki did.
*****
When Fuyuki next woke, he was lying on a futon in a small, traditionally styled room. The floor was covered in tatami mats, the walls a mix of wood and paper screens. One of the screen doors stood open to his right, revealing a covered wooden walkway and snow-capped mountains beyond. The sky was overcast. Aside from the futon, there was little else in the room - frames of pressed flowers on the walls and a small table in the corner with a wash basin and a vase of pink flowers.
Slowly, Fuyuki eased himself upright. He whimpered as his collection of injuries protested the movement, but he still managed to force himself to sit up. Standing was much harder. At some point he'd been dressed in a black yukata. Simple silver embroidery lined the hems in two straight lines, though that was the only decoration on the fabric. He momentarily balanced on his knees and tightened the cloth belt around his waist, securing the fabric more firmly around his body. Slowly, he placed his weight on his right foot. He trembled with effort, biting his lip to keep silent as he painfully raised himself onto both feet.
His effort turned out to be for naught. As soon as he put weight on his left foot, pain shot through him like a lance. He screamed and pitched forward, landing half on the futon, half on the floor.
The sound of running feet made him freeze. The door in the left wall slammed open and he stared at the surprised-looking woman who stood in the doorway. She wore a pale blue kimono, the fabric rolled up to her knees. It reminded him of the maids at the House of Falling Leaves. More footsteps approached at a more sedate pace and the woman was joined by two others, one much older and one much younger. The youngest of the trio seemed to be about Fuyuki's age, possibly younger.
"Ah," the old woman exclaimed, her face breaking into a wrinkled smile as she stepped into the room. "You woke up."
"I'm sorry," he apologized reflexively, not sure what he was apologizing for but his brain insisted that he must have inconvenienced them in some way worthy of apology. His voice rasped and he winced at the pain in his throat.
He blushed as he realized that the disarray of his limbs left his legs exposed. It hurt to move his left leg but he still tried, modesty demanding that he at least attempt to cover himself. He floundered. His limbs were shaking too much to be of any use.
"Lie still," the woman in the blue kimono said. She crossed the room in two quick strides and knelt next to Fuyuki.
He couldn't hide his flinches as she touched him, or the whimpers of pain as she helped him lie back on the futon. His back exploded in pain as the futon pressed against the welts on his back. He barely choked back a scream, his vision going blurry for a brief minute. The woman seemed to sense his distress. She helped him roll onto his stomach. The movement hurt, but he found it much more comfortable lying on his stomach instead.
"Shh," the woman murmured in an attempt to soothe him. "You're safe now."
"Am I dead?"
The woman looked shocked, but the old lady just chuckled.
"No, no. Hurt, yes, but far from dead."
Tension drained from Fuyuki's body and he let himself relax against the futon. He wasn't sure why the shinigami hadn't killed him, but he wasn't going to question his luck. His body was urging him back into sleep but his mind was too active for that, curious about where he was and why he was with the three women.
"Who are you?" He asked.
The old woman smiled at him as she settled onto the floor near Fuyuki's head. Her voice was gravely, reminding him of the brush of sandpaper on wood. "I'm Sagamiya Shouko. This is my house. This," she gestured to the woman in the blue kimono, "is my daughter, Mitsuko, and my granddaughter, Miyuko." The young woman smiled timidly at him from the hallway. She'd yet to take a step into the room. "My son-in-law, Hakuto, is away right now, but he should return in a day or two." She paused for a short moment and seemed to contemplate the wooden walls around them. "Also, there are Chiya and Ayami, but you will meet them later." Her grin widened. "We're all friends of Shin-san."
The name didn't seem familiar. "Shin-san?"
"Your friend, the Shinigami."
His eyes widened in startlement. The shinigami - Shin - must have left him here. He wanted to protest that the shinigami wasn't his friend, that they'd only just met, but he didn't want them to take that as a sign to throw him out. "Is that his name? Shin?"
Shouko chuckled. "I think not. It's what I have always called him, and he has never corrected it."
"Where is he?" He wanted to see Shin again, partially to thank him and partially to have something familiar near. His nerves were still going haywire. He felt panicked, trapped by his inability to move, and he wanted the shinigami near in case someone tried to hurt him again.
"Not here," Shouko said. "He has gone wherever it is that shinigami go." Mitsuko's face twisted briefly in unease as Shouko spoke, before returning to a pleasant, if muted, smile.
"Will he be back?"
"Who knows. He stops in from time to time, but I think the hours pass differently for him."
"Oh." He couldn't hide the disappointment in his voice, though it seemed to only make the women smile more.
"Rest now," Shouko said. "Recover your strength. He'll return soon enough."
The women bid him polite goodbyes and left him to sleep. His thoughts drifted to the House of Falling Leaves, and what the owner would think when he found Castle dead and Fuyuki gone. It took a while before he could sleep.
*****
There was a wind chime hanging outside of his room. He could hear it, every so often, letting out a faint peal of bells that tugged at his memory. They'd left the outer door partially open to let in the breeze. The wind was slightly cold but not unpleasantly so. It felt good against his too warm skin. He wondered if he had a fever. That happened often after Castle visited. He'd be useless for days but the money Castle paid more than made up for the loss of business.
Memories of the House of Falling Leaves blended into the present and he wondered when the next client would come.
Fuyuki drifted in and out of consciousness. He lost track of time. Sometimes it was dark, sometimes light. The three women came and went, but more often than not he was alone. Most often he saw the mother as she helped him eat and brought him to the toilet. Movement hurt and he dreaded the times when the mother came and made him move, even if his body needed it. All he wanted to do was sleep until the pain faded away.
He woke at one point to darkness and the feeling of fingers threading through his hair. Fuyuki shifted his head, turning towards the body attached to the hand. His eyes didn't quite want to focus. He was mostly certain that it was a man, dressed in black clothing, and that was enough for him to hazard a guess.
"Shin-san?"
The hand stilled but didn't move away.
He closed his eyes and relaxed against the futon. He moved one of his hands, sliding it from beneath the covers to lightly grip the shinigami's robe.
"Stay?"
The hand started to move again, slowly carding through his hair. "I will."
He slept, feeling safe and protected for the first time in days.
Part Two