Punishment ((Closed RP, Kusuriyuri/Kurama))
Enough time had passed since the encounter with Karasu (and subsequent unhappy conversation with Yukimura) that Kurama had let his guard down and his mind slip to the point where Inari's impending punishment wasn't anymore at the forefront of his mind.
Kurama had been working in greenhouse one, basic upkeep, and such, when he'd felt the godly presence. Usually, when Inari was near, it was an impression of a very imposing person standing at close range, without any person actually being present. Now, however, when Kurama turned his head, he saw a personification. He scowled.
Usually, Inari took a woman's form when visiting him. She never outright said it, but he guessed that it was because of his slight mother-complex. It was Inari's way of being funny, he supposed, even if it wasn't at all appreciated. Now, however, Inari took male form. Irritatingly, this form was a carbon-copy of Kurama himself, surrounded by the thousand points of light that signified Godhood, and golden hair and fur instead of silver.
"You've been naughty," Inari stated with a smirk, causing Kurama's scowl to deepen. Even the voice was the same.
"I've been practical," Kurama countered, unable to help himself. "I thought you approved of the elimination of threats."
"You could have waited. He wasn't an immediate threat," Inari murmured, examining his claws.
"I'm surprised you would count him a threat at all, seeing as how rapists don't seem to fall under your radar," he snapped back, tossing down the gloves and spade he'd been using.
"You would bring that up," Inari sighed, tilting his head at Kurama with an expression of parental exasperation. "And you're being awfully arrogant for someone who is about to be punished."
"Brushing that off so easily. And you wonder why I refused to follow you for so long?" Kurama growled softly, ignoring the logic part of his mind that told him not to pick fights with Gods. Inari would never admit to her - his - negligence during that, which had caused Kurama's rejection of Inari's laws. "Fine then, better now than never, as long as it's taken you. Punish me."
Immediately, he regretted his bravado. Inari's expression had become one of pure cruelty. "It is said that the seat of truth lies in humanity. That even though they are lying, deceitful creatures, they have an obsession in honesty that borders on the insane. Since you have broken your word and thus lost your truth, you shall also lose your humanity." Inari lifted an arm, one accusing finger pointed directly at Kurama's heart - the last remainder of his human body. Kurama took an involuntary step back, frightened despite his earlier bravery. That... that was too much. Inari never took what he couldn't give back (not for something this minor, anyway) eventually. Taking his heart was horrifyingly permanent.
The protest on his lips was cut short when his breath suddenly stopped, and his main focus was directed to the horrible pain in his chest. His knees buckled and he fell, grabbing uselessly for the table next to him. His head spun and he was sure that he'd blacked out for a minute; when his vision came back into focus, Inari was standing over him.
"I will keep your heart, for now. If you follow my laws to my satisfaction, and attend to my orders, I will consider returning it to you. If you break my laws or ignore my orders, I will find something else to take from you." Inari's eyes narrowed, a cold expression that Kurama recognized as his own merciless gaze. "Your lover is very strong, and very wise, but even he cannot deny a God if he is sent. If you defy me again, I will find which God he follows and have him wander again, from your reach until one or both of you dies." A smile curled darkly at the corner of Inari's lips. "You'll not be reborn again if you kill yourself, and you are mine when you die either way. I'd be careful of my mistakes if I were you."
With that, Inari was gone, leaving Kurama to recover slowly, picking himself up off the floor and moving numbly from the greenhouse to the room he shared with Kusuriyuri. He needed to curl up somewhere for a while, somewhere dark and quiet. He wanted - needed - Kusuriyuri, but was too numb to call for him, and could only hope he was there.
Kurama had been working in greenhouse one, basic upkeep, and such, when he'd felt the godly presence. Usually, when Inari was near, it was an impression of a very imposing person standing at close range, without any person actually being present. Now, however, when Kurama turned his head, he saw a personification. He scowled.
Usually, Inari took a woman's form when visiting him. She never outright said it, but he guessed that it was because of his slight mother-complex. It was Inari's way of being funny, he supposed, even if it wasn't at all appreciated. Now, however, Inari took male form. Irritatingly, this form was a carbon-copy of Kurama himself, surrounded by the thousand points of light that signified Godhood, and golden hair and fur instead of silver.
"You've been naughty," Inari stated with a smirk, causing Kurama's scowl to deepen. Even the voice was the same.
"I've been practical," Kurama countered, unable to help himself. "I thought you approved of the elimination of threats."
"You could have waited. He wasn't an immediate threat," Inari murmured, examining his claws.
"I'm surprised you would count him a threat at all, seeing as how rapists don't seem to fall under your radar," he snapped back, tossing down the gloves and spade he'd been using.
"You would bring that up," Inari sighed, tilting his head at Kurama with an expression of parental exasperation. "And you're being awfully arrogant for someone who is about to be punished."
"Brushing that off so easily. And you wonder why I refused to follow you for so long?" Kurama growled softly, ignoring the logic part of his mind that told him not to pick fights with Gods. Inari would never admit to her - his - negligence during that, which had caused Kurama's rejection of Inari's laws. "Fine then, better now than never, as long as it's taken you. Punish me."
Immediately, he regretted his bravado. Inari's expression had become one of pure cruelty. "It is said that the seat of truth lies in humanity. That even though they are lying, deceitful creatures, they have an obsession in honesty that borders on the insane. Since you have broken your word and thus lost your truth, you shall also lose your humanity." Inari lifted an arm, one accusing finger pointed directly at Kurama's heart - the last remainder of his human body. Kurama took an involuntary step back, frightened despite his earlier bravery. That... that was too much. Inari never took what he couldn't give back (not for something this minor, anyway) eventually. Taking his heart was horrifyingly permanent.
The protest on his lips was cut short when his breath suddenly stopped, and his main focus was directed to the horrible pain in his chest. His knees buckled and he fell, grabbing uselessly for the table next to him. His head spun and he was sure that he'd blacked out for a minute; when his vision came back into focus, Inari was standing over him.
"I will keep your heart, for now. If you follow my laws to my satisfaction, and attend to my orders, I will consider returning it to you. If you break my laws or ignore my orders, I will find something else to take from you." Inari's eyes narrowed, a cold expression that Kurama recognized as his own merciless gaze. "Your lover is very strong, and very wise, but even he cannot deny a God if he is sent. If you defy me again, I will find which God he follows and have him wander again, from your reach until one or both of you dies." A smile curled darkly at the corner of Inari's lips. "You'll not be reborn again if you kill yourself, and you are mine when you die either way. I'd be careful of my mistakes if I were you."
With that, Inari was gone, leaving Kurama to recover slowly, picking himself up off the floor and moving numbly from the greenhouse to the room he shared with Kusuriyuri. He needed to curl up somewhere for a while, somewhere dark and quiet. He wanted - needed - Kusuriyuri, but was too numb to call for him, and could only hope he was there.