Demon Eyes

by CrimsonNoble

Author's Notes: End of Chapter

Chapter Two: I Push…

I stumble as the elevator jerks up against my feet, nearly throwing me to the floor. This is just weird. This… thing is moving under me. I'm still trying to figure out why this is surprising to me, but I suppose a couple of decades will do that to a person.

The Muramasa is still in its box, even though I really want to hold the weapon in my hands. It just doesn't feel right to not hold the weapon. Like something's missing.

Well, it's still better than not having the weapon. I really miss being able to walk around with it out. But then, I don't really want to be on the most wanted list for killing cops. Nah, there are better reasons for being on that list.

Panic once again explodes as I feel more or less everything inside my gut tries to escape through my mouth as the elevator abruptly stops. I don't think I'm ever going to get used to this. To hell with the elevator! I'm taking the stairs next time.

I step out cautiously, trying my best to remember which door the apartment is. I'm standing still, probably a mistake, but it's so hard to remember things about this place. I know it was off one of the corners of the cut-away of the building, but I don't know which one.

I shrug, and try the first. Fortunately, it opens, and I recognize the Yebisu beer cans lying scattered about. The woman obviously has no taste in alcohol. Or men, for that matter. Ah, yes. Point, I'm going to kill Gendo. Not because he abandoned me, no. That's over and done with. Just because I don't particularly like him. It's a matter of principle: No one goes unpaid. And Gendo has a big reward coming.

Maybe he'll hear the voice of the wind? Nah. He's not worth it.

Yeah. Just because I don't like him. So what?

Great. Now I'm talking to myself. Responding to my own objections. Just fuckin' great.

I'm halfway across the living room before the redhead steps in front of me. I start to go around her, and she steps in front of me again.

"What do you want?" I half-snarl, half-slur.

"I'm hungry!" She shouts at me.

I almost blink. I'm supposed to care, why? Stupid bitch.

"Right. Whatever. Get outta my way." I respond boredly. Or, at least, I'd like to think it was boredly. It was probably more like annoyed. But I think it got my point across decently.

"What!? Idiot, cook me something!" She yelps.

Damn, this is getting dull. I decide that no, I don't care enough to hit her yet. "Get out of my way," I repeat, more annoyed this time.

Her eyes narrow. Is that supposed to be intimidating? Or is she just stupid? She opens her mouth to speak, but I interrupt her. "Is something wrong with your eyes, or are you just a moron?"

Yeah. I really do want to know the answer. If she thinks she can threaten me, she's going to be learning a painful lesson. Quickly, and soon. I'm half praying that she does think she can threaten me. She's getting really irritating.

"Idiot! Get in the kitchen and make me some food!" She bellows in my face. Man, she needs to brush her teeth, I observe. And mouthwash. Because right now, her breath smells like the proverbial fan the shit hit.

Man, I crack me up sometimes.

"No." I say coldly, and shove her away before walking past. I don't bother looking to see what she's doing as I cross the room, enter the hall, and finally reach my room.

The door slams shut as I enter, cutting off the girl's view of my back. Before the door shuts, I've dropped the box with my sword in it, and almost synchronized with the echo of the paper-wall shutting, I kick the box open.

There it is. My Muramasa… I pull it from the box, playing absently with some of the loose leather on the saya. I really want to kill something. Come to think of it, I'm hungry too. I mentally go over my checklist of things to do.

It reads: Meat. Clothes. Kill. Woman. Sake.

Yeah. That's a good list. I want my yin-yang kimono back. I deliberately ignore the fact that it's probably decayed by now, and instead consider the possibility of even better materials having come into existence since then. Hey, I just said I ignored it, not that I didn't accept it.

Damn it! I'm retorting to my own arguments! Again!

The door bashes open, and I feel the redhead enter. I turn and glare at her, before I realize that my sunglasses are still on, and she can't see my eyes. Her eyes come so close to flashing, it's almost funny. Really, she's pissed at me. Man, this just went back over into hilarious.

"What?" I snarl, though the sound comes out several decibels lower than I intended. This voice is going to take a hell of a lot of getting used to…

It takes a while for me to realize that she's talking. Does the bitch ever shut up?

"… I'm HUNGRY! Stupid Shinji! Make me something to eat!"

I turn away, ignoring her. She's getting annoying. I'm going to have to kill her if she doesn't shut up.

And then, she hits me.

She hits me!

That fucking whore is going to die!

I whirl, the Muramasa whipping around to slam into her hip, shattering the pelvic bone, the fragments of which slice most uncomfortably looking into her more sensitive areas, and sending her flying into the hall again. I frown, that should have bisected her, not sent her flying. It's a long moment before I look at my sword.

Ah. Such a shame. I forgot to pop the blade. She's going to live. Well, she's not going to be very happy about it, but she'll survive. Not happy at all. Feh, she's going to die. I'll let her suffer a bit longer though.

Ouuu! That's a great idea! My lips curve into a sadistic smirk. Hell yes! This bitch is going to pay!

I've changed my mind. I'm going to let her live. Not without punishment, of course. She's going to be hating me for a long time. Maybe I'll just have to make sure she sees me every damn day…

I walk over to her, writhing as she is on the floor. Damn, you think she'd know how to take pain a little better. But then, I guess she's just a pathetic woman after all. Never felt actual pain.

She's going to be feeling pain for the rest of her life. Oh yes, she's going to be feeling pain.

I lift the still-sheathed Muramasa in a reversed grip as I reach her, having a bit of difficulty getting it as high as I need. I feel a bit short. Hell, I'm almost a full four inches from my real height. My flat six feet reduced to five-eight. This is pathetic. Aiming is going to be a bitch… but I'm not going to miss.

"Touch me again, and I will kill you. This is a small punishment for you."

I grin, baring my incisors again, looking down at her. The insect. She's going to regret fucking with me.

Because when you fuck with me… You fuck with the best. And when you mess with the best, you die like the rest.

I bring the weapon down hard, and the encased tip crashes into her lower abdomen, driving her into the floor with about the same force that's behind a bolt of lightning. I lift the sheathed weapon, and repeat the action, in a slightly different place. I'm not exactly sure what I hit, but I'm fairly sure I just reduced her chances of reproducing to almost nothing. Damn good thing too, that piece of hereditary trash should never be passed on.

I grin wider, showing more of my teeth, though she doesn't see it. She's somewhat occupied by whatever I damaged.

I kick her again for good measure. It doesn't actually do anything, no more bone breaking at least. But I don't think I can really hurt her more. Heh…

I turn, walking back into my room. The door slides shut, blocking my view of the half-woman lying on the floor.

She's not going to be happy. Heh…

Man, I'm good.

/ -

I blink at the purple haired woman in front of me. She's angry. I wonder why. Silly bitch.

She's going pink! Heh… I think she's actually getting angry at me!

"Shinji!" She yelps. Yeah. Yelps. She really sounds like a dog. It's odd. She's a bit mentally deficient, apparently. I wonder if she knows that I have my sword?

She'll die if she pisses me off. That's just the way things work. The strong live… the weak die.

No. That doesn't sound good enough. The strong are strong… and the weak are dead. Yeah. That's much better.

It's about this point that I realize I've tuned her out again. Too bad for her, I mentally shrug, and continue ignoring her. This seems to annoy her more. It's… rather pitiful, how she doesn't seem to notice my style of dress. Ah, well. Too bad for her.

I begin to twiddle with the wrapping around the sheath. That confused me, why would anyone put that garbage on a sword? I suppose it could help with Iai, but… the Muramasa is a bit long for Iai. And that's probably bullshit anyway.

I tug the cloth-crap off the weapon's casing, and begin to shred it. About the time I've reduced it to, more or less, individual strands, I realize that the woman is still talking. She's getting irritating.

"Shut up," I snap, and stand, grasping the saya of the weapon. She appears to notice it for the first time, if the look in her eyes is anything to judge by. She's rather amusing.

"Just where did you get that?" she demands angrily. Heh… she demands of me! The irony is just sickening.

"It's mine," I respond curtly as I turn and stroll toward the door.

She virtually explodes at this, with a shout of, "You are not allowed to leave the apartment! And I'm going to have to confiscate that weapon!"

I turn slowly, tilting my head in the process as I remove my sunglasses. My lips spread in a somewhat sadistic grin that once again reveals my teeth. "Wanna try and stop me?" I ask, feeling my eyes flare expectantly.

She steps back, apparently surprised by my eyes. Heh… she's such a hypocrite.

I turn, and continue out the door, the Muramasa dragging slightly as my height alters the angle I need to carry it at to keep it from brushing the ground, but habit prevents me from changing the angle I have it at. Or maybe I'm just lazy.

Whatever.

/ -

As I sit on the train, my arm draped loosely around my sword, I realize something. Something really obvious.

I'm really, really, fucking bored. Damn this body for being fourteen! I can't even get a drink! What the hell is wrong with this place?

Further complications, I suspect I'm going to be dealing with police soon. Well, they're going to die. Shit, this sucks.

I glance up at the indicator for the stop, and shrug. Why the hell not? It's near an access to the… Geofront, was it? And anyway, I do have to negotiate new living arrangements. Otherwise the German whore and the purple-haired one are going to die.

Slowly, and painfully.

I step off the train, drawing odd, somewhat frantic looks. Must be the sword. Yes, run little cockroaches! Run!

I lift my sword slightly, mock-saluting a cop. He is, it should suffice to say, utterly surprised by the gesture. Or at least, that's what I figure. Because by the time he's recovered, I'm gone.

I don't pay all that much attention to where I'm going, so when I reach the entrance to the Geofront, it's a bit… surprising.

Of course, this reveals a minor flaw in my plan. I don't have my ID card with me, so I'm stuck outside.

This leaves one choice to me. So I take it.

The Muramasa sings from its saya, and the door explodes before the strikes that not even I can see. Not that I really need to see, my body knows full well how to direct my arm.

Or maybe it's some part of my mind that operates faster than the world does? I am a demon, after all. Or so men call me.

I slip the blade back in, blinking languidly as I glide into the labyrinthine fortress.

This is going to be… fun.

/ -

The old man is objecting strenuously. I don't know why, I'm just expressing my demand to be moved into a more fitting residence.

I tug at the bandages around my arm, observing that the torn flesh is already looking much better. I don't know why it does that. But then again, men call me a demon. So why wouldn't it?

I'm terribly amused by the fact that an Angel was the thing to bring me into this world. Me. A demon. Brought into a world where Angels are the ones slaughtering humans. I guess it makes me responsible to defend them, or something. Feh, when they're gone, I'm going to find a way back. And I'm going to kill Mibu.

It's a few minutes before I realize that since I got 'back', I really haven't listened to anyone. Not that they'd have anything to say I'd be interested in. Which, of course, brings to mind an extensive assortment of possible lewd phrases that yes, I might be interested in, most of which I wasn't aware I knew. Even my mind is telling me I'm a sex addict. Must work on that.

"Right then." I interrupt, growing tired of his diatribe. "I'll just move into one of the temporary apartments in the Geofront until you get me a better place to stay."

Some of these words I'm not entirely certain I know what they mean, really. I have these… somewhere between nine and eleven years of memories in my head that are getting buried beneath mine. Details are hazy. Of course, I wasn't exactly what you'd call the primary forge before, but still.

Where was I again?

Why is that old man continuing? Is it not enough that I have given him my decision? For the love of me, I'm tempted to hit him with a random skill, just because he's that annoying. Of course, this isn't really a new temptation.

Screw it. I'm leaving.

"You'll make sure everything moves along nicely then," I interrupt again.

The door opens for me, and he glares at my back. I think he expects me to be intimidated. Me, Kyo. Intimidated by some worthless commoner. The idiocy…

I should just kill him. Exercise my right as a samurai. Kill whoever I damn well please.

I'm twitching again. Heh… guess I do need to go deal with something. Now, should I go get food or a woman?

Decisions, decisions…

Author's Notes: Wa-hey. 's late, I's tired. Wanna sleep. Wanna blow shit up. Wanna shoot shit.
Anyway, monsieur Rahl: I offer that this
is a somewhat new body for Lord Kyo. He just wanted to make sure he can kill like he should be able to first. Also note that R/S is still only a possibility, romance may or may not occur. But consider what Asuka is like. Brash, bossy, bratty, and a general bitch. Think about Kyo, an arrogant asshole. Furthermore, he's homicidal. I really don't see the two even liking each other. Then again, I might just pull an OC (or Mana) relationship. Who knows? Well, aside from me, but that's a "duh."
Ash47, I expect there's a distinct lack of Samurai Deeper Kyo fame. I mean, I didn't even find out about it until I read around some rather obscure message boards. I think you're psychic, seeing as a couple hours ago I myself was thinking about what was going to happen to Asuka when she pissed Shinji/Kyo off. Heh… Man I'm evil. Psycho-torture ahead. Mwuhahaha…I note that you like Noir. So do I. . Man, Killing-Machine-Kirika's cool. Gotta love that "I charge at you, grabbing your uzi and using it to cut down your allies while you pull the trigger," thing she does.
You know, jennyjennai, everyone has a use for a murdering fiend, of course Gendo does. Thing is, Kyo/Shinji doesn't much give a damn about laws. He's going to be killin' people soon enough. Nor does he much care for authority, so he just goes off and kills anyone he damn well pleases.
Shiken offers an interesting point, collecting debts. Kyo's willing to kill anyone he wants. His priorities are a bit effed through. Or at least, in some people's opinions. While people like Gendo may be on his hit list, other people, like, say, Touji may also be. 'course, the G-man gets him killin' things, so he lives. For a while.
Oh, and while I am aware of various opinions about swearing in Fanfiction, I take the time to point out that this
IS Kyo. That's what he does. Can't take the swearing outta Kyo.
And I've always wondered why Kyo always heals from damage like right away. And his kimono! It fixes itself! I want one of those!
The rape-my-ass-over-shit-about-first-person-POV note still applies.
Keep in mind that I don't particularly hate Asuka. No, that's a lie. I hate her. But this isn't anything personal. Kyo's just an asshole.
Anyway, minor techincal thing, backslashes and the vertical slash thingy aren't showing up on FF.N anymore. This is irritating, but I've changed the section dividers to compensate.

Irresponsibility: No raindrop believes that it is responsible for the flood.

Pretension: The downside of being better than everyone else is that people tend to think you pretentious.

Anti-inspirational posters from my old English teacher.