Okay, been a long time since this was posted so only fair I add something over here.
General idea of this fic, Death and Nyx have the characteristics of their mythology counterparts, Death is ruthless and brutal and well, you'll see later on.
Second, most importantly, if you're expecting fluff and butterflies at every chapter then drop this, there is fluff and this is romance driven but this story is dark and not suitable for sensitive folks. I made this because the ship was mad popular at that time but this has evolved, this will be uncomfortable and dark and well, don't say I warned ya.
When my eyes opened, this weird blue butterfly fluttering by backwards against the rushing train flew by the window. I was pretty sure I was imagining it, and lookie lookie… The stupid bug's gone. Good, I don't want to become more insane than I already am. Oh yeah. I'm Minato Arisato.
The boy named Minato stood up wearily and glanced at his watch. Glaring at the watch he knew that the train was late by god knows how long, and he didn't take it well at all. "Fucking piece of junk…" He muttered.
Minato was by no means a normal person. Not by appearance, or his behavior. Long blue bangs covered his right eye and said eyes were an enigmatic shade of silver. His skin was pale. People who didn't know him would call him a strikingly handsome and perhaps, angelic young man but his attitude and personality completely contradicted everything you thought about him from his appearance.
No, Minato was a cold blooded beast and even he himself had admitted to it. That was always an understatement though. During that fateful night about ten years ago where he had lost everything he had cared about in this blasted car crash, his humanity was robbed. He couldn't pinpoint exactly was happened but if there was anything he knew, it was that he had changed and for the worse.
He was consumed by hate and every walking second of his life since ten years ago could be summed into the simple, single word: Anger. He was by no means a saint. Far from it. His hands were stained with the blood of multiple people and he took absolute pleasure in torturing people he didn't like. You pissed him off and sooner or later you would regret it dearly. He thought with the lower half of his brain. One day he would be screwing some girl and the next he wouldn't even spare a glance at her.
"Damn, I'm one fucked up guy…" Minato smiled sadistically. The word normal lost meaning to him a long time ago. Since that crash, his world had shifted. By abnormal powers or otherwise, he could control his voice to make it sound just like normal or like some kind of demon. Just with making up his mind he could summon a dark creature that carried an already blood-stained sword and a white dragon-like mask which he had aptly named Death.
"Mom, dad… I only came here because of you." Minato mumbled to himself. Perhaps the only redeeming quality about him was that he still respected his long deceased parents more than anything in the world. His vivid memory could easily make out the images of his mother forcefully pushing him out of the car minutes before it exploded sky-high in a huge fire.
"The chaos that ensued years ago… I'll find that out." Minato swore as the train ride finally ended for him, calming him down a small amount. There were only two people in the train. One was the blue haired boy, and the other was this greasy haired teenager smoking a cigar whose eyes were darting to Minato's rather swollen wallet that was no doubt filled to the brim with money.
Minato was alright money wise. His uncle was an accomplished tycoon back in London that sent Minato money every so often, since the both of them were the only remaining members of the Arisato family. Oddly enough. Which also brings up another point. Wherever Minato went, bad and worse things had happened. He saw his cousin getting smashed by a speeding car in front of his eyes. The countless deaths he bore witness to ultimately 'helped' to shape him into the monster that he was today.
The punk slowly walked towards him, quietly pulling a switchblade out from his pocket. Although he was quiet, Minato noticed it easily, meeting him in the eye.
The thug quickly brushed off his surprise and flipped the blade out, pointing it at Minato's throat. "Alright pretty boy, hand over the dough," he ordered. Minato simply kept staring at him with a dead gaze that sent shivers down the teen's spine. Slowly moving his hand onto the blade he pushed it away with no signs of fear in his eyes, shocking the punk once more.
He placed it near the thug's chest and his voice turned low and distorted. "Don't fuck with me," he hissed with a voice like Emily Rose. The punk turned ghost white and stumbled back as he backed away, trembling in fear at the sight of Minato's glare.
The blue-haired teen gave a 'hmph' and turned around, quietly walking out of the train. It was almost midnight and the station was nearly devoid of people. He kept walking until he felt something run past him and brush against his pant pocket, taking him by surprise. Looking at the retreating figure he could recognise it as the punk that he scared a few moments ago, carrying his money-loaded wallet.
Minato felt his rage growing and boiling within him. He wanted to unleash Death and ravage everything around him. He was about to go do that until he noticed that it was barely a few seconds before midnight. The frown on his face melted into a vicious smile. "You chose this fate." He whispered to himself, still gazing at the escaping punk.
The usual atmosphere was caught in a flash, morphing into something that could only bring dread to anyone who didn't know what the hell just happened.
The buildings in the world around him, and just about everything else held a green taint. The once pale moon turned a sickening yellow, its light reflecting off the puddles of blood that were scattered around on the asphalt and concrete. Minato's smile widened as he gazed upon the few people around him. They had turned into coffins. He was all too comfortable with the situation right now. If you had been experiencing this for ten years already, you would probably feel the same.
Looking at a coffin at the far end he strode over to it, taking a knife out of his pocket that he always carried around. The blood covered coffin he was aiming for was torn open to reveal the same greasy haired punk within it. The teen's eyes fluttered open and widened as he tried to wrap his head around where he was.
Minato grabbed him by the collar and dug the knife into his stomach without even giving him a chance to think about what was happening. The punk screamed in agony as Minato forced the knife in deeper, grinning during the deed. "I told you… Don't fuck with me," he snarled as he withdrew the knife. The punk fell on the floor like a rag doll in a bloody mess, breathing heavily.
Minato kicked him in the wound that he just made remorselessly making him howl in pain again. Taking his wallet, he discarded the knife he was using and placed it on the punk's chest that was probably dead by that point.
"The screams…" Minato breathed out with a smile, walking away from the corpse.
Just taking his time he arrived at the dorm where he was allowed to stay for a few days until the regular boys' dorm was finished renovating.
"Good thing for them," Minato muttered as he pushed the doors open. "I don't think they could handle me for more than a few days."
He stepped in, being greeted by a soft voice.
Minato turned to see two people standing near the counter. One was a pale-skinned boy with bright cyan eyes holding a red folder, who looked no older than seven. The other was a teenaged girl with auburn hair and beautiful, striking red eyes wearing a sweater and muffler around her neck with an orange skirt.
She smiled gently at Minato who for the first time in ten years, found warmth blossoming within him.