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[myrcxlla]

Of Killers and Devils

PROLOGUE

Driven by a tradegy that has haunted her for most of her life, after the death of a notorious clan leader, Nakai Tanako rises to the top with just one goal in mind. Vengeance.

Saturo x Fem!OC character, (mentioned/assumed) Nanami x Fem!OC character

Warnings/triggers: angst, murder, mentions of cannibalism, cheating, violence, death/gore, dub con, non con, forced pregnancy, miscarriage. This story does not have a happy ending.

"2 years before Yuji Itadori"

AFTER ALL, KILLING HIM WAS THE PEACE SHE NEEDED. Her knuckles tightened as the twist of her wrist arose deadly thorns of gore from her fingers, and when her eyes widened, blood gushing from his neck and dousing the skin of her forearm, she was hit with a wave of satisfaction that she chose to hook her technique’s sharp blade into his carotid artery. Fatal enough to ensure his death, but slow enough where she got to enjoy watching every last second of her father’s miserable life drain away, taking one pathetic breath with him.

She knew it would take mere seconds for him to fade into dust, pleading, but that's all she needed.

Just a few seconds.

Long enough for the wretched man to stare into the eyes of the monster he, and every other member of the clan birthed by the dark intentions and desires of others, helped create. The living incarnation of sins coming back to sow justice for a girl who once dreamed, and another who loved.

He begged for mercy once more. Just loud enough to send birds flying and the ruins of a home creak in pity. She stood crouched on top of him long enough for the high of his bloodshed to fade. Her hand wrapped around what was left of his neck, the other lengthened in long ropes of thorns, slowly dispersing around her entire body, waiting. Waiting for something. Waiting for an apology. But the only thing that came was the chill as his blood cooled on her skin and the knowledge that not even toward the end, her power was cheered. 

“Tanako-sama,”

It wasnt until the door behind her creaked open that she released him, the weight of his guilt and control lifting away as his corpse dropped from her arms. 

“Do come in, Celeste.”

“I’m sorry, it was not my intention to interrupt. But, everyone has already settled in the Grand Room, and they ask for–” the foreign girl of pale blue eyes stared at the body beneath her friend’s feet, “--Mister Tanako. Should I explain to them?”

She grinned. “There's no need. They came at the request of the clan’s leader.”

“So, was it true then? Your plan, Nakai?”

She walked through the empty space of the office and onto the en suite. “It was never a question.” She turned the water and waited until swirls of warmth embraced her skin and began rinsing the blood spatters from her arms. “Of course it was always true, my dearest.”

Celeste nodded. “How did it feel?”

Her hands gripped the edge of the sink, and she leaned forward to stare at herself in the mirror. In the corner, Celeste could see the small smile gracing her lips. “How did it feel?” Her heart did not skip a beat while at it. No sudden fire emerging from her fingertips, no stronger power surging from her. “Not as emotional as I thought. Rather boring, I'm afraid. How much did you hear?”

Celeste reached for a towel and dried her arms clean, chasing behind as Nakai walked back into the office and reached for a brand new Haori. The pink one, one her father had gifted her not long before his macabre death. 

“I didn't hear much, just enough,” Celeste chuckled. “It is not surprising, you are the hardest person to please.”

She smirked as she allowed Celeste to place the garment over her bloody kimono, before she headed back to stand over her father. She gazed down at him, his black eyes staring vacantly at the ceiling, his mouth opened and petrified, much like he always forced hers to be. 

She laughed, a great, silly laugh. “Funny is all.”

She kicked his leg out of the way, his hideous crocodile boots splashed in the blood that pooled beneath his body. “Things go a little messy, though.” Sighing, she pinched the bridge of her nose. “Will the head of the Gojo clan show up this time?”

“Saturo Gojo is here, and he wishes to speak to you, privately, afterward.” Celeste answered, following like a lost puppy behind its master. “Don't worry about the mess, I'll take care of it. Will you speak to him this time, or will you have me do it?”   

A spark of hope shone in her eyes, but the sudden chuckle from Nakai made the smile on her own face disappear. "I will speak to him. In the meantime, I need you to find Geto for me, tell him I will support his cause."

Celeste seemed to stop, breathing only sightly.

"Support?"

She nodded, without responding, and allowed it to sink that this was the last moment she would ever spend in the presence of her father. His little girl, innocent, naive, Nakai, is at fault for his death. Closing her eyes, she breathed deep, searching for a silver string of regret. 

There was none.

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

The sound broke the silence and it made her gag, repulsed, scratching from her insides and the vile she was forced to hold down in the back of her throat. “Celeste,” she called. “Hand me that.” She pointed to the golden watch on her father’s limp arm. 

Celeste did not hold for a moment. She kneeled down and pulled the handkerchief from her breast pocket, then reached for the shiny, date watch. 

Tick. 

Tick. 

Tick. 

Nakai placed it around her wrist, despite the anger surging from the pit of her stomach, she embraced it as her own. Once a little girl who admired the godly thing, now wore what her father most loved. It was a final ‘fuck you!’ to him, at least. She straightened her back and took a deep breath, then stroked long locks of black away from her face. 

In the peak of it all, with gentle pulls of her hair and the braid that formed behind her neck and caressed her back, Celeste watched her. Their relationship was often mistaken, but never by them. To Celeste, Nakai Tanako, daughter and heir of the Sacred Clan, was her beloved and trusted friend. 

To Nakai, however, Celeste was only her servant. 

A simple monkey at her command.

“What should I do with the body?” 

Her features were covered by the shadows of the cold room, but the smile on her face seeped through with a horrifying resplendor. “Don’t care,” her voice was too sweet as she began to walk out the office. “Leave him to rot. Erm, better yet…” she singsonged, “Feed him to those pigs in the Grand Room. Save the best for Gojo.”