Karasu's Story: Fondness

Characters: Karasu, the Toguros, Kurama

Pairings: Onesided Karasu/Kurama

Continuity: English anime

Summary: Oneshot. Karasu has a twisted sense of love. WARNINGS: Disturbing concepts, including implied rape and child molestation. (Non-explicit.)

Author's note: Heed the warnings! This is a lot more disturbing than my usual fare. Though it's actually not explicit, so trust your own judgment.

This was a request by The Countess of Monte Cristo. It was incredibly hard to write. Burying yourself in Karasu's twisted mind is not a pleasant experience. Still, I'm glad I did it—it was definitely a challenge! Now if you'll excuse me, I think I'm going to go take a shower and listen to some sappy love songs to get the bad taste of Karasu's POV out of my mind.

He trusted him, the man he called Father.

Father told him many things, things about the world, things about himself.

"Beautiful Karasu," he said, stroking his soft hair. "You are very pretty, indeed…and pretty things tend to get…broken."

He hurt him, sometimes.

But only because he loved him.

"When you love something, it makes you want to destroy it," Father had said with a smile.

A smile full of sharp teeth, paired with a predatory look in his too-bright eyes.

Father loved him.

And eventually Karasu came to love Father, too.

He knew it was love, because he wanted to destroy him.

So the next time Father touched his hair and said he loved him, Karasu struck.

He raised his hands to Father's face, and, with a thrill he never forgot, he saw the fear in those eyes, the fear of the predator becoming the prey.

Karasu's hands flared with sudden power, and Father's face exploded, drenching him in a fountain of blood and filling his mouth with its coppery taste.

Karasu smiled.

"I love you too, Father."

That wonderful thrill still flowed through him, and he wanted, needed, to do it again.

So he did.

As soon as he left Father's body, he found and killed a low-level.

But it wasn't the same.

No, that had been nothing.

There was nothing special, nothing intimate, about such wonton destruction.

No, he should do as Father taught him.

"When you love something…"

Yes…he needed to find someone to love. Someone who didn't have a choice in the matter.

"…it makes you want to destroy it."

And then, after he had built up a relationship…he would kill them.

He had just killed another loved one, and was tasting his blood one last time, when the Toguro brothers found him.

The smaller one, with the high, squeaky voice, had spoken first.

"Very nice work. You certainly know how to be thorough." He slithered down from the taller man's shoulders and approached Karasu.

"How would you like to work for us?"

Karasu looked at them with half-lidded eyes. Neither one was at all attractive. No, they wouldn't do at all.

"Not interested," he said, and turned to walk away. Already he was craving the feel of a new toy's skin under his fingers.

"I only asked how you would like it. I never said you had a choice."

The small man's fingers shot out, impossibly long, and wrapped around Karasu's body.

He struggled, trying to get free. He wanted to be they player, not the plaything.

Ultimately, it didn't matter what he wanted.

But that was the way life went, was it not? If you weren't strong enough, you were the toy.

They didn't care, though, if he had his own toys on the side, so Karasu accepted his captivity.

He never did have time with his playthings, though to reach the true levels of intimacy that he desired. He always had to kill them too soon, since he couldn't take them with him when they moved on.

So when he first saw the redhead, he knew he'd have to work fast.

Desire filled him. The boy was just so pretty!

And, like all pretty things, it was his destiny to be thoroughly broken.

Karasu would gladly take on the task of enforcing that fate.

He ran his fingers through the boy's hair—so soft, so smooth!—and he knew how Father must have felt.

Yes, he definitely loved the boy, more than he had ever loved anyone.

He would make his death something special.

So when they fought, Karasu took his sweet time, limiting his injuries to his extremities at first.

He might not have much time with him, not enough time to do everything he wanted, but Karasu would make the most of every moment. He would drag it out, letting the boy suffer as long as possible.

The agony etched on the boy's lovely face…it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

And then there was the hatred in his eyes.

All of his other playthings and loved ones had limited themselves to fear.

Karasu's smile widened.

Yes, he'd chosen well. This one was definitely his favorite.

Finally though, as did all good things, it had to come to an end.

Karasu gathered all of his freed power in one hand, savoring his last look at that gorgeous face as he readied his final attack.

"DIE!" he shouted, his love for the boy filling his whole body with a thrill like no other.

But…the boy cried out before his attack could hit—a cry a rage and defiance, not of fear and pain.

And then there was a plant.

The plant leapt on him with an unparalleled ferocity.

Karasu could figure out how the boy had done it. He shouldn't have had enough strength.

The only thing he could come up with was that the boy's desire to destroy him had been so great that it had allowed him to do the impossible.

As the vampire plant sucked the last dregs of blood from his body, Karasu's dying thought brushed over his fading mind.

He loves me.