To Master: Loveless Fic
Author: Bitterfig
Title: To Master
Fandom: Loveless
Characters: Agatsuma Soubi, Aoyagi Seimei, Aoyagi Ritsuka
Summary: Ritsuka learns about the degree to which Soubi allowed himself to be controlled by Seimei.
Beta Reader: Nzomniac
Word Count: 1788
Rating: R
Warnings: This story contains descriptions of self-starvation that may be triggering to those recovering from eating disorders. Also a bit of mild pre-slash, touchy-feely stuff, and lots of twisted mind games.
Author’s Note: This was written in response to
wizefics request at
fic_on_demand for a story focusing on Soubi/Seimei together as Beloved, Soubi’s “desire and need to be owned and controlled” and the ways in which Seimei fulfils this need.
To Master
“Tell me about Seimei…” Ritsuka said. He was curled against Soubi’s chest, nestled in the man’s arms like a tiny child. When the boy spoke his brother’s name, Soubi felt cold, as though the warmth of Ritsuka’s body were the source of heat in a vast and unknowable distance.
“What would you like to know?” Soubi asked, drawing Ritsuka closer, holding him tighter.
“What was it like, being friends with him? He was too grown-up to play. What sort of things did you do together?”
“Your brother wasn’t my friend,” Soubi said. “Not like Kio is, not like Yuiko and Yayoi are your friends. It was something different.”
*****
“I’m helpless,” Seimei told him, smiling coyly. “Whether I live or die depends on how much you want to protect me. It’s not enough for us to be friends, for you to like me or even love me. I’ve had friends, there are people I love, but if it came down to them or me, I wouldn’t hesitate to let them fend for themselves. It can’t be like that with us. You have to want to keep me safe more than you want to live. I must be sacred to you.”
*****
“Seimei was my master,” Soubi continued. “He was the sun I revolved around. He was the heart that kept me alive. He was everything to me.” Ritsuka’s wide eyes searched his face.
“Was he nice to you?” the boy asked.
“You wouldn’t think so, but he made me feel … complete,” Soubi said. “With Seimei, I knew I was fulfilling my purpose.” Ritsuka pushed aside Soubi’s long, grey-blond hair, his delicate fingers finding the tiny silver butterfly earring Soubi wore in the hole Ritsuka had punched there.
“Did you make him do things like this to you? Did you make him discipline you?”
“I didn’t need to make him. Seimei knew what to do. He knew how to master me.”
“Tell me.”
Soubi shook his head, and though he’d thought he was holding Ritsuka as tight as he could, he clutched the boy tighter. “You’re too young.”
“But it can’t be sex stuff,” Ritsuka pouted. “Seimei had his ears…” Soubi remained silent. “You won’t tell me, will you?”
“No.”
Ritsuka wiggled out of Soubi’s arms and, turning his back on his fighter, began fiddling with the computer. It hurt to lose contact with the boy. His absence caused Soubi physical pain. Ritsuka must have felt it, too; his ears drooped, his tail hung listlessly, but he remained focused on the computer’s screen for several more minutes before he finally acknowledged Soubi again.
“If you tell me, maybe I would know what I’m supposed to do,” Ritsuka said shyly. “Maybe I would know how to make you feel complete.”
“I could tell you some things, but I’m not sure you’ll understand.”
“I’ll try, please tell me…”
Soubi knelt beside Ritsuka’s chair. He laid his head on the boy’s lap and began to speak.
“When Seimei and I first came together as Beloved, he was displeased with me. I’d already lost my ears, and he wasn’t happy that he’d been given a Fighter Unit who’d been with someone else. He thought I was dirty, contaminated from the inside out. He wouldn’t touch me until I’d been tested for all the sexual diseases. Even after the tests came back negative, he had rules. He could touch me, but I couldn’t touch him unless he ordered me to. I wasn’t allowed to look directly at him or look in his eyes...”
*****
He remembered perfectly Seimei’s voice, snide and silky. He remembered looking down as commanded, watching Seimei’s feet move as he paced, watching his tail twitch in agitation.
“I don’t know who you’ve been with,” Seimei told him. “I don’t know if it was one person or a dozen, men or women. I don’t need to know. It doesn’t matter. The only thing that matters is that this person or these people were not me. I need to be your only one, Soubi-kun. My life is in your hands. I need to be the only one that matters to you.”
The slender, dark haired boy gingerly lifted Soubi’s chin so they were eye to eye.
“I need to test you,” Seimei said. “I need to know I can count on you. Unless I know, I can’t feel secure.”
“Whatever you want,” Soubi offered eagerly. “Whatever you ask of me.”
Seimei smiled at that; his smile was radiant when he got what he wanted.
“From now on, you will only eat when I say you can,” he said. “And only what I give you.”
So it began.
Once, sometimes twice a day, Soubi’s cell phone would display a message from his Sacrifice, and he would go to Seimei and be fed.
Seimei had a very aesthetic approach to food. Certain categories of foodstuff-meats, eggs, milk, anything involving animals-revolted him. Certain combinations of colors and shapes were taboo as well. Everything he gave to Soubi had to conform to certain standards of purity, beauty and perfection known only to Seimei.
The meals Seimei created were often austere in the extreme: a block of tofu and a meticulously sliced daikon, clear noodles in clear broth, an especially gorgeous plum, or a single bun filled with bean paste that had caught Seimei’s eye as he walked home from school. These meager offerings were never quite enough, but Soubi never asked for more. He accepted what he was given gratefully in the hope that he, too, might attain a level of purity, beauty and perfection acceptable to his master.
As weeks went by, Soubi found himself growing increasingly weaker. Fatigue hung over him constantly; the most basic activities left him drained. Exams were approaching, but he found it difficult to concentrate on his schoolwork, difficult to concentrate on anything but his constant hunger and the next time Seimei would summon him.
Yet, it was worth it. His compliance seemed to be winning Seimei over. At first he let Soubi feed himself, but gradually the boy took over, offering Soubi each bite-first with utensils, then with his own fingers. Soubi’s only concern was that, in his weakened state, he would be ineffective as a fighter.
“I don’t think that’s going to be a problem yet,” Seimei said knowingly. “For now, we have time.”
Soubi passed out in the art studio where he was working on his portfolio for university. Kio found him unconscious on the floor and, when he came to, tried to make him drink from a bottle of sweet juice. Soubi just spit it out.
“Dammit, Soubi,” Kio raged. “What are you doing to yourself? You’ve lost at least twenty pounds, and you were skinny to start with. You’re like a zombie. You can’t paint; you can hardly move. You’re never going to get into university, and, if it matters to you at all, I don’t find you at all attractive like this. What the hell are you doing?” He was so frustrated he was at the point of tears. “That Aoyagi brat’s making you do this, isn’t he? I really hate that kid for doing this to you, and I hate you for letting him.”
Seimei, on the other hand, seemed pleased with Soubi’s ever-increasing fragility. “Soubi-kun, I finally feel you belong to me and no one else,” he said languidly, encircling the bones of Soubi’s wrist with his fingers.
It went on. Time seemed to blur for Soubi. Minutes seemed like hours, yet days passed in a blur. Nothing seemed real except those few moments a day he was with Seimei and his hunger could be not satiated, never satiated but dulled. These were the only times there was enough sugar in his bloodstream to jolt his addled brain into a semblance of alertness. Compared to the hours spent waiting, each moment with Seimei seemed vivid to him.
It went on. He was always cold. His hands, his feet, knees were numb, tinged purple. His cheekbones were sharp; sometimes, it felt like they would slice his skin open from the inside.
Soubi lay inert on the floor of Seimei’s room as the boy fed him, one by one, eight whole almonds from a porcelain bowl elaborately decorated with patterns in red and gold. Seimei took his time, sliding his warm hands under Soubi’s loose black shirt to trace his jutting hip, breast and collarbones.
“It’s time to stop,” Seimei told him. “You need to be able to fight. From now on, you can feed yourself; you can have what you need. It’s a shame. I like to see you this way. I know you’d let me go on till I could see the shadow of my fingers through your body like I can see them through this bowl.”
“I’d like to eat the way I’ve made you eat,” he went on. His face was cheerful, but there was darkness in his tone. “I’d like to be able to never take anything into me that wasn’t pure and beautiful, but I don’t have the strength of will. I do things the easy way; I don’t like to be uncomfortable. You’re not like that; you’re willing to endure. It’s good that one of us is. I’m glad you’re mine, Soubi-kun.”
*****
“You were right,” Ritsuka said quietly. “I don’t understand. I thought Seimei was nice; I don’t understand why he would do that to you.”
“He was being nice to me,” Soubi answered dreamily. “He made me very happy.”
“I won’t do things like that,” Ritsuka said, an edge of panic in his voice. “I won’t. Even if they make you happy, I won’t. I would rather you were unhappy…”
“It doesn’t matter if I’m happy or not,” Soubi said. “Everything your brother did brought us closer together; it made our bond deeper, and we were more powerful as Beloved.”
“But it doesn’t have to be like that,” Ritsuka argued. “Those girls we fought … they were friends. I don’t think Midori would do cruel things to Ai or punish her. And Youji was always nice to Natsuo…”
“We defeated Breathless,” Soubi said bluntly. “I beat Zero two against one. You need to be my master, Ritsuka. If you don’t own me and use me to keep yourself safe, you’ll be hurt. You might die like Seimei died. That would hurt me more than anything.”
“No,” Ritsuka said quietly but fiercely. “I liked Seimei, more than anything. He was kind to me. I don’t know the Seimei you’ve told me about, and I’m not going to be like him.” He bent down and tentatively, quickly, kissed Soubi’s cheek. “You and I will be strong some other way,” he whispered.
Title: To Master
Fandom: Loveless
Characters: Agatsuma Soubi, Aoyagi Seimei, Aoyagi Ritsuka
Summary: Ritsuka learns about the degree to which Soubi allowed himself to be controlled by Seimei.
Beta Reader: Nzomniac
Word Count: 1788
Rating: R
Warnings: This story contains descriptions of self-starvation that may be triggering to those recovering from eating disorders. Also a bit of mild pre-slash, touchy-feely stuff, and lots of twisted mind games.
Author’s Note: This was written in response to
wizefics request at
fic_on_demand for a story focusing on Soubi/Seimei together as Beloved, Soubi’s “desire and need to be owned and controlled” and the ways in which Seimei fulfils this need.
To Master
“Tell me about Seimei…” Ritsuka said. He was curled against Soubi’s chest, nestled in the man’s arms like a tiny child. When the boy spoke his brother’s name, Soubi felt cold, as though the warmth of Ritsuka’s body were the source of heat in a vast and unknowable distance.
“What would you like to know?” Soubi asked, drawing Ritsuka closer, holding him tighter.
“What was it like, being friends with him? He was too grown-up to play. What sort of things did you do together?”
“Your brother wasn’t my friend,” Soubi said. “Not like Kio is, not like Yuiko and Yayoi are your friends. It was something different.”
*****
“I’m helpless,” Seimei told him, smiling coyly. “Whether I live or die depends on how much you want to protect me. It’s not enough for us to be friends, for you to like me or even love me. I’ve had friends, there are people I love, but if it came down to them or me, I wouldn’t hesitate to let them fend for themselves. It can’t be like that with us. You have to want to keep me safe more than you want to live. I must be sacred to you.”
*****
“Seimei was my master,” Soubi continued. “He was the sun I revolved around. He was the heart that kept me alive. He was everything to me.” Ritsuka’s wide eyes searched his face.
“Was he nice to you?” the boy asked.
“You wouldn’t think so, but he made me feel … complete,” Soubi said. “With Seimei, I knew I was fulfilling my purpose.” Ritsuka pushed aside Soubi’s long, grey-blond hair, his delicate fingers finding the tiny silver butterfly earring Soubi wore in the hole Ritsuka had punched there.
“Did you make him do things like this to you? Did you make him discipline you?”
“I didn’t need to make him. Seimei knew what to do. He knew how to master me.”
“Tell me.”
Soubi shook his head, and though he’d thought he was holding Ritsuka as tight as he could, he clutched the boy tighter. “You’re too young.”
“But it can’t be sex stuff,” Ritsuka pouted. “Seimei had his ears…” Soubi remained silent. “You won’t tell me, will you?”
“No.”
Ritsuka wiggled out of Soubi’s arms and, turning his back on his fighter, began fiddling with the computer. It hurt to lose contact with the boy. His absence caused Soubi physical pain. Ritsuka must have felt it, too; his ears drooped, his tail hung listlessly, but he remained focused on the computer’s screen for several more minutes before he finally acknowledged Soubi again.
“If you tell me, maybe I would know what I’m supposed to do,” Ritsuka said shyly. “Maybe I would know how to make you feel complete.”
“I could tell you some things, but I’m not sure you’ll understand.”
“I’ll try, please tell me…”
Soubi knelt beside Ritsuka’s chair. He laid his head on the boy’s lap and began to speak.
“When Seimei and I first came together as Beloved, he was displeased with me. I’d already lost my ears, and he wasn’t happy that he’d been given a Fighter Unit who’d been with someone else. He thought I was dirty, contaminated from the inside out. He wouldn’t touch me until I’d been tested for all the sexual diseases. Even after the tests came back negative, he had rules. He could touch me, but I couldn’t touch him unless he ordered me to. I wasn’t allowed to look directly at him or look in his eyes...”
*****
He remembered perfectly Seimei’s voice, snide and silky. He remembered looking down as commanded, watching Seimei’s feet move as he paced, watching his tail twitch in agitation.
“I don’t know who you’ve been with,” Seimei told him. “I don’t know if it was one person or a dozen, men or women. I don’t need to know. It doesn’t matter. The only thing that matters is that this person or these people were not me. I need to be your only one, Soubi-kun. My life is in your hands. I need to be the only one that matters to you.”
The slender, dark haired boy gingerly lifted Soubi’s chin so they were eye to eye.
“I need to test you,” Seimei said. “I need to know I can count on you. Unless I know, I can’t feel secure.”
“Whatever you want,” Soubi offered eagerly. “Whatever you ask of me.”
Seimei smiled at that; his smile was radiant when he got what he wanted.
“From now on, you will only eat when I say you can,” he said. “And only what I give you.”
So it began.
Once, sometimes twice a day, Soubi’s cell phone would display a message from his Sacrifice, and he would go to Seimei and be fed.
Seimei had a very aesthetic approach to food. Certain categories of foodstuff-meats, eggs, milk, anything involving animals-revolted him. Certain combinations of colors and shapes were taboo as well. Everything he gave to Soubi had to conform to certain standards of purity, beauty and perfection known only to Seimei.
The meals Seimei created were often austere in the extreme: a block of tofu and a meticulously sliced daikon, clear noodles in clear broth, an especially gorgeous plum, or a single bun filled with bean paste that had caught Seimei’s eye as he walked home from school. These meager offerings were never quite enough, but Soubi never asked for more. He accepted what he was given gratefully in the hope that he, too, might attain a level of purity, beauty and perfection acceptable to his master.
As weeks went by, Soubi found himself growing increasingly weaker. Fatigue hung over him constantly; the most basic activities left him drained. Exams were approaching, but he found it difficult to concentrate on his schoolwork, difficult to concentrate on anything but his constant hunger and the next time Seimei would summon him.
Yet, it was worth it. His compliance seemed to be winning Seimei over. At first he let Soubi feed himself, but gradually the boy took over, offering Soubi each bite-first with utensils, then with his own fingers. Soubi’s only concern was that, in his weakened state, he would be ineffective as a fighter.
“I don’t think that’s going to be a problem yet,” Seimei said knowingly. “For now, we have time.”
Soubi passed out in the art studio where he was working on his portfolio for university. Kio found him unconscious on the floor and, when he came to, tried to make him drink from a bottle of sweet juice. Soubi just spit it out.
“Dammit, Soubi,” Kio raged. “What are you doing to yourself? You’ve lost at least twenty pounds, and you were skinny to start with. You’re like a zombie. You can’t paint; you can hardly move. You’re never going to get into university, and, if it matters to you at all, I don’t find you at all attractive like this. What the hell are you doing?” He was so frustrated he was at the point of tears. “That Aoyagi brat’s making you do this, isn’t he? I really hate that kid for doing this to you, and I hate you for letting him.”
Seimei, on the other hand, seemed pleased with Soubi’s ever-increasing fragility. “Soubi-kun, I finally feel you belong to me and no one else,” he said languidly, encircling the bones of Soubi’s wrist with his fingers.
It went on. Time seemed to blur for Soubi. Minutes seemed like hours, yet days passed in a blur. Nothing seemed real except those few moments a day he was with Seimei and his hunger could be not satiated, never satiated but dulled. These were the only times there was enough sugar in his bloodstream to jolt his addled brain into a semblance of alertness. Compared to the hours spent waiting, each moment with Seimei seemed vivid to him.
It went on. He was always cold. His hands, his feet, knees were numb, tinged purple. His cheekbones were sharp; sometimes, it felt like they would slice his skin open from the inside.
Soubi lay inert on the floor of Seimei’s room as the boy fed him, one by one, eight whole almonds from a porcelain bowl elaborately decorated with patterns in red and gold. Seimei took his time, sliding his warm hands under Soubi’s loose black shirt to trace his jutting hip, breast and collarbones.
“It’s time to stop,” Seimei told him. “You need to be able to fight. From now on, you can feed yourself; you can have what you need. It’s a shame. I like to see you this way. I know you’d let me go on till I could see the shadow of my fingers through your body like I can see them through this bowl.”
“I’d like to eat the way I’ve made you eat,” he went on. His face was cheerful, but there was darkness in his tone. “I’d like to be able to never take anything into me that wasn’t pure and beautiful, but I don’t have the strength of will. I do things the easy way; I don’t like to be uncomfortable. You’re not like that; you’re willing to endure. It’s good that one of us is. I’m glad you’re mine, Soubi-kun.”
*****
“You were right,” Ritsuka said quietly. “I don’t understand. I thought Seimei was nice; I don’t understand why he would do that to you.”
“He was being nice to me,” Soubi answered dreamily. “He made me very happy.”
“I won’t do things like that,” Ritsuka said, an edge of panic in his voice. “I won’t. Even if they make you happy, I won’t. I would rather you were unhappy…”
“It doesn’t matter if I’m happy or not,” Soubi said. “Everything your brother did brought us closer together; it made our bond deeper, and we were more powerful as Beloved.”
“But it doesn’t have to be like that,” Ritsuka argued. “Those girls we fought … they were friends. I don’t think Midori would do cruel things to Ai or punish her. And Youji was always nice to Natsuo…”
“We defeated Breathless,” Soubi said bluntly. “I beat Zero two against one. You need to be my master, Ritsuka. If you don’t own me and use me to keep yourself safe, you’ll be hurt. You might die like Seimei died. That would hurt me more than anything.”
“No,” Ritsuka said quietly but fiercely. “I liked Seimei, more than anything. He was kind to me. I don’t know the Seimei you’ve told me about, and I’m not going to be like him.” He bent down and tentatively, quickly, kissed Soubi’s cheek. “You and I will be strong some other way,” he whispered.