The Twelve Kingdoms Fan Fiction ❯ Suffocation ❯ Suffocation ( Chapter 1 )

[ P - Pre-Teen ]

Title: Suffocation
By: Happiness's Deceit
Disclaimer: I do not own Twelve Kingdoms or its characters in any way.
Warnings: Implication of sex, shonen-ai, badly attempted humor, OOC-ness
Summary: Shouryuu was suffocating in the falsity of the world. After all, his standing was given to him by a child.

Women everywhere flocked to his feet—here, his title was meaningless, and he was just another man on the street. But women still grouped at his feet, suffocated him. It disgusted him, the way they were so lax with themselves; had they no shame? Many were young girls who could have married into good families on looks alone. They may have been involved with drugs—something that revolted him from their every touch.
They ignored his looks, instead partaking in his flesh and sweat in delight. They were harlots with no feelings of their own, only looking in the pleasure of one, single night. It made his skin crawl, but disease was not something that could fall him, and women here did not have the excuse those in Wa did.
They said that he, as a taika, was a cruel monster for coming from a woman's womb, but were they any more human—from growing from a tree? Not any normal tree, but a tree nonetheless. Those around him were angry, that a man who had been born of such cruelty was such a success. But was that not his results? This prosperity, this hope brought to the people? Were they not thankful for having such a stable ruler?
But, then, perhaps they were not so thankful indeed, if they drew such things from a man with no real standing from his birth. His standing was only from a child.
He was given position in this world because a child willed it to be so. And, quietly, he had to wonder if that was one of the reasons he was so incredibly bitter. They had not followed him out of their own volitions, but of the role he was cast into. Their life was a theatre for the gods who reigned above but were silent. They manipulated them—the gods were the worst type of all; they were the manipulators who did not even care to reap their benefits. They left blame to the mortals. But was he, a simple human, not also immortal because of the role they had put him in? Was he not also following the manipulation like a puppet on strings, or a child with no will? Who was he, to even declare there was such a thing as gods? He wasn't anyone special, to be certain. He wasn't even someone from this world.
But that was far enough thought for the night.
He drew a woman—curvy, with long, dark red hair—closer so that his face was to her bosom. He touched her in places she should have kept sacred, he violated her in a way she adored—he was her god at the moment, giving her more pleasure than she had the right to feel. And he hated every moment of it.
He hated how, even here, they managed to keep him blinded and bent him to their needs. He hated it. But this was the way he had always freed himself from stress. This was the war he faced every day. This was the war he would fight until the moment he died.
For a moment, he wondered how good it would feel to finally ignore the advisors, the women, and just run back to Wa like Youko had thought of doing. He thought, fleetingly, of how free he would be.
Of how empty he would be.
For if he did such a careless thing (though he had long been accused of it), he was sure that all of Enki's premonitions would come true, and the boy would…lose faith in him. Faith was a troublesome thing, because no one knew when it would hold fast, and no one knew when it would fall through.
Enki's faith was more fragile than any he had ever seen before. Faith was, by definition, belief or devotion to someone without logical proof. In that, Enki's faith was already lacking. The boy lived in constant adherence to the fact that he would destroy the beautiful land, and this was what Enki used, he thought humorlessly, to prove his worth. To have given the country the thing that would destroy it was something important indeed, but not something anyone wanted to shoulder.
But that was what all the kirin did, whether they wanted to do it or not. It was their fate; they were expected to be able to do it, and if they couldn't, then their kingdom was destroyed because of it. The kirin were martyrs. They were constantly pushed into the consequences of their choice (of their king).
It was a beautiful thing, albeit destructive. But Enki was not like all the other taihos; he was independent, loud, brash, but equally caring and kind to those around him. He hated the choices that he had made—he hated the job he had been given as the taiho, but he did not resist anything they made him do.
He was a breath of fresh air.
Oh, Enki demanded that he do things, like everyone else did, but he was much more sneaky about in doing it. The boy was free, was obnoxious, and did not hide his inhibitions. He was open, he was loud, and he was something that he could not ignore.
Even if it was a comment about his favorite casual clothing (something he wore often, such as the first time he had met Youko), Enki demanded nothing but his full attention. He left nothing hidden that could not be found, and let him make his own decisions.
“You realize that that ribbon is pink, Shouryuu?”
He was a half of the two of them, he thought, but Enki must have been the half with the lungs. How else could he explain his inability to breath in the fumes of the demands of others?
“Are you listening to me?”
Enki was the lungs, he thought. Enki was the part of him that could find the purer parts of life. Like air, for instance.
He needed that air. So, without a second thought, he pressed his lips against the kirin's. Wide eyes met his, then gently slanted closed.
His first thought was that Enki was cute. His second was wondering if immortals could die of asphyxiation, and his third that he didn't really mind if he suffocated this way.
His fourth thought was that a hoof in the crotch was decidedly painful, and should be something that those kissing a kirin should look out for.