From Hostage to Possession to Pet to Queen

By: Shattered Hourglass

Disclaimer: I do not own Shaman King.


I'm so tiny within your grasp; so fragile.

You know this. You love the fact. You love that you could break me so easily, that you can shatter my world like you did all those years ago.

Did you know every time I close my eyes, I see fire? I see flames that burn my home, flames that devour the empty shells of my parents.

I'm sure you do. You always seem to know what I'm thinking. You know my mind better than I do.

But that's because I hide from myself, isn't it? Because I ignore the parts I want to say aren't there. Because I don't want to think of all the pain and misery in my life, even though I am fixated on it.

I don't know why you tell me these things. It's not like you give a damn about my feelings or what I want.

If you did, I would have been able to walk away from you by now.

But I can't. You won't let me.

It's sickening really, how much we're alike.

I remember when you first took me, took my fragile body in your strong grasp. I remember when you held my body; so fatigued from fighting you, drained of furyoku and so exhausted that I could not stand on my own two feet without my knees buckling and crashing to the ground. I remember how you held my body to your chest, arms locked around me so I wouldn't be able to escape even if I could move, hand weaving through my hair. I remember how you told me about your first life, how your mother was burned before your eyes because human priests accused her of being a demon fox; because she was a shaman. I remember you speaking about how you survived, how your existence was truly pathetic to the point where you ate grass in order to live to see the rising sun of the next day; until the human priest who ordered your mother's death came back for you.

Because you too were shaman. Because you too needed to be killed. But, you weren't killed, where you? If you had been killed then, you wouldn't have had the strength or knowledge to be able to reincarnate yourself and you would not exist today, holding onto me so tightly that I could not escape. No. You were the one who spilled blood. You were the one who killed. You slaughtered the humans who came to burn your home. You murdered the priests that tried to subdue you. You killed the man who ordered both your and your mother's death.

I wish you had died that day.

I felt sick, when you were telling me all of this. I felt disgusted by the fact that you and I held similar qualities, similar reasons for hating those we abhorred. Fear was the only thing that kept me awake that night.

I don't understand you.

I don't want to understand how your mind works or why you do the things you do.

I just want to know why you insist on keeping me at your side. I want to know why you won't let me leave. You can't use the excuse of holding me captive any longer. You don't even bother to hold me as a bargaining chip with your brother anymore. You knew from the start that Yoh wouldn't become a part of you just to same my worthless self.

But they still tried to save me; Yoh and the others did. They tried to free me of your grasp, but you held onto me far too strongly for them to pull me away. You would not allow your possession to leave you. That is what you told me when I questioned you.

And thus I, my position changed from a hostage to a possession.

And it continued to change. After I was finished being a possession, you decided I was your pet. Someone for you to play with and tease and torment and take care of; if you could claim that your cared for me.

I tried everything I could to kill you. I knew it was hopeless, trying to destroy you with my pitiful shamanic powers. I didn't care how fruitless trying to strangle you in your sleep was. You are stronger then me, both spiritually and physically.

After that attempt, while you found my attempts to kill you with my pendulum amusing, you decided that after I tried to strangle you to death with my own two, pale, weak hands; I needed to be punished. That I needed to learn my place.

I hated the new meaning that pet took on after that painful, bloody night.

I fought you with everything I could. I bit. I dug my nails deep enough into your flesh to bring blood bubbling to the surface. I kicked. I screamed. I hit. You just held me down and played with me none the less.

I swear you are a masochist.

Again, I don't know why you choose me. I'm sure any of your other followers would be more then willing to spread their legs for your enjoyment. They mindlessly obey you. They worship you. Surely one of them would have been more than willing to be your little fuck toy.

But it appears that I am the only one you want. I am the only one who will fight you and deny you everything I can.

I hate you.

And again, I am promoted. This time from hostage to possession to pet to queen.

Someone to sit there and look pretty as you commit mass genocide and gather more followers, those you spare from the carnage. Someone to lay submissively as you toy and torment and molest and rape, someone who refuses to fit the role.

I hate you. I hate you. I hate you so much.

I will never stop fighting, even though I know I can't win. I will never stop trying to escape, though I know there is no one who can save me.

I am too weak to destroy you. Too small and helpless and fragile to wipe that insufferable smirk off your face, to darken the light in your eyes, to squeeze the breath from your lungs.

I don't care that you've won every battle before it starts, that you've already won the war I am waging against you.

I will never submit. I will never stop fighting you.

Because I hate you Asakura Hao.

I hate you.