Obsession
By Vitreux
Author's notes: New story! Be warned, this dark fic is heavy with angst. I got the idea while I was reading manga. It's something totally fresh that I wanted to try. Please, leave me a review and tell me what you think!
Disclaimer: Rurouni Kenshin does not belong to me.
Chapter One
Butterfly
-revised-
Before I became one of them, I never even felt this bitter towards life.
A whore.
That's what I am.
I am Kamiya Kaoru. Butterfly of the Sakura House.
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The Legendary Hitokiri Battousai groaned. This really was not his idea.
Nothing was anymore.
His cold eyes scanned over the House, several women dressed in very fancy kimonos advanced toward him and his comrades in an eager pace, the atmosphere around them was so thick with perfume that it suffocated him the instant he stepped in.
He loathed it.
"It's been so long since your last visit," a woman with dark brown hair cooed and wrapped her slender arms around a man that stood beside Battousai.
"I certainly agree!" his other comrades bellowed with laughter.
Disgusted, he turned around and intended to walk out of the House, having no desire to stay there longer. He didn't even want to go in the first place, his colleagues tried to persuade and almost dragged him to step inside a territory Battousai found very foreign. Before he could protest in his usual harsh way he ended up being tricked. Cursing inwardly at himself he wanted to slit their throats so badly, they knew he wasn't into this kind of affair. Damn them. He was about to reach the exit when suddenly the sight of a woman's cleavage blocked his vision. His eyes burned in anguish flames as he stepped back.
"Battousai," the woman grinned in a sophisticated way. The scent of alcohol blinded his senses as he kept his voice emotionless.
"I'm leaving."
"Oh?" the woman leaned in to study him, her dark orbs traveled up and down Battousai's lean body as her lips curved into a devious smile. "So soon?"
He didn't bother to give a reply as he brushed passed her heading to the doorway.
"I have someone you might want to meet," the women shouted to his retreating figure in the deafening room.
He looked past his shoulder and mocked, "And who might that person be?"
"You'll like her, all men do." She smiled again and ordered for a room. Battousai watched as the woman took a cup of alcoholic drink and swallowed down the liquid in one gulp. She wiped her mouth afterward and thrust her head back, laughing.
"Something amuses you, whore?" Battousai hissed.
Another woman dressed in green kimono appeared behind her and bowed, "The room is ready my lady."
"Perfect." The woman eyed Battousai, "Our Butterfly will give you all the pleasure you need."
"Butterfly?"
"Yes. The famous Butterfly of the Sakura House."
"I'm not interested."
"Oh you will be. Yoko, show him the way." She commanded.
"Yes my lady." The girl turned to the Hitokiri, "Please, this way."
Battousai had heard of the Butterfly before, his colleagues called her a goddess. Her beauty had traveled far and wide throughout the area; she had the perfect body all men yearned to lay his hands on. She was said to have the most mesmerizing azure eyes in all of Japan, even her raven-black hair was flawless like Kyoto's darkest nights without stars. Battousai was lost in his thoughts when he followed the girl into a fancy hallway with different fans and pictures hanging on the wall. The doors along the corridor that led to separate rooms were well carved and most of the time, mystifying. He noticed a dark corner, unlike any other regions this area was particular huge and highly decorated. The girl walking before him smiled and stopped her lead, "Enjoy your stay, Battousai-sama." She opened the door for him and Battousai breathed in sharply.
He stepped in, and the door closed quietly behind him. So he ended up in here after all.
The room, he noticed, had a different aura of scent. The smell was not familiar to him, it was hypnotizing, he decided it must be some kind of a trick that the House used to lure people into a seductive state. The candle on the table was the only light in the room; the flames burnt effortlessly casting shadows on the purple washed wall. Darkness danced around him as his eyes scanned over the place, then, he felt someone's presence. A strong one, yet gentle.
"Battousai," a feminine voice brought his attention as he turned toward the source of the sound.
And then, time stopped.
The figure stepped away from the shadow, and he saw her. At that moment he could no longer felt himself breathing. He watched as she brushed a lock of hair away with her fragile hand, he watched as a smile touched her lips, he watched as she opened her captivating eyes, and he simply could not tore his eyes away when her calm blue locked his turmoil red.
"Welcome, into the deadly game of lust."
The fire on the candle flickered as the two stood both rooted to the ground. Amber ones clashed against azure ones, like fire against ice, bustle against silence. Butterfly strode toward the redheaded assassin, capturing his full attention as she came closer and closer. He kept his eyes impassive when she put her arm around his neck and whispered, "The game of obsession."
His mind snapped as his instincts took over; grabbing her arm with his hand he stared dangerously into her bottomless orbs. The girl gasped and the Hitokiri noticed a deep red scar on her wrist, it was in a form of a butterfly. A strange scar it was, it seemed as if someone had carved it onto her wrist.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" she asked.
Battousai stared at her as if she was insane. Butterfly lifted her hand away from the assassin and covered her wrist with the blue fabric she wore. For a second he thought he saw a tinge of hurt and shame spread across her features before she replaced it with a smile.
"You have extraordinary burning eyes," she said as she brushed a strand of blood red hair from his face. He flinched slightly. She leaned in and placed a feathery kiss on his lips. Her sudden gesture caught Battousai off guard as he took a step back, eyes expanding in anger. She smiled and took another step closer while undressing her first layer of kimono. She stopped advancing when their bodies were pressed against each other and suddenly it hit him. Jasmine. It was the faint aroma of jasmine that surrounded this mysterious Butterfly.
Butterfly shrugged the last layer off her shoulder, exposing her white flesh for him to see. "Don't you want me?" she whispered.
Her sweet scent engulfed him and he became aware of every curve on her body pressed firmly against his own.
"I could kill you." His voice came off as a whisper.
"Then do it." She closed the gap between them as she pulled him down with her on the bed. The Hitokiri couldn't control himself as he obeyed in vain, returning the kiss just as passionately. His sword hit the floor with a clunk as he crawled on top of her, tasting her sweet flesh.
Butterfly clutched onto his gi as she arched her back. It felt different. When she had done it with other men, it didn't feel like this way. Perhaps it was because of his silence when he entered her room, or maybe the glint that flashed in his eyes when she first kissed him? One thing she was certain of, Battousai was nothing like her customers. She could tell he was not accustomed with this sort of affair.
She was a whore, it was her job. Of course she could tell if people were familiar or unfamiliar on this issue. There were so much pain and agony living under this roof. Everyday her body screamed at her forcing her to stop this endless routine, she was a whore because she was told to, she became a whore because she had no where else to go. She died a little as each day passed, each hour, each second. There were rules, and she must obey. Her small hope was wiped away years ago when the head mistress told her first rule at Sakura House was to never, ever fall in love with your customers, or the consequences could be deadly.
Love was something she could never understand.
Tears fell silently down Butterfly's cheeks. Battousai stopped all of a sudden; he sat up on the bed and stared down at the crying girl.
"Why are you stopping? Do it! Just like all the men!" she cried out beneath and glared at him with her deep azure eyes.
Battousai didn't reply. He could have had her right this second, in this room, on this bed. But somehow he couldn't bring himself to and he didn't know why.
"Why are you crying?"
Butterfly bit her lip and stared at him unbelievingly.
"W-what?"
"Why are you crying?" he asked, his voice a soft tone.
Anger rose in her as Butterfly wiped her tears abruptly, "Do you see me as weak?" she demanded.
"I see you as a whore, nothing more." Battousai answered grimly. Those words stabbed her like a blade through flesh.
A whore.
That's what she was.
Piece of instrument for pleasuring the men.
Nothing more.
The Hitokiri tightened his muscle as he got up, leaving Butterfly dried in tears. He picked up his katana on the ground and steadied himself, brushing away the wrinkles on his clothes. He cast one last glance toward the fallen Butterfly.
"I will be back." He proclaimed quietly.
She didn't say anything.
He opened the door and stepped out of the room, as if the events that happened in this room never occurred.
After a long moment, Kamiya Kaoru sat up on the bed, her eyes were pale and lacked of emotions. She grabbed a sharp weapon from under the pillow and started tracing the mark of the stained butterfly on her wrist, blood trickling down her hand as she whispered an aged poem, which she was taught since young.
"I'm going to trace a picture, I'll trace it with a knife, I'll trace it on my wrist. As I trace that picture, a river will appear. As that river flows, all my troubles will disappear."