Cerebral Fluid

'It's been 3 days. 3 whole fucking days!', she wipes her eyes hopelessly. She hasn't heard from Satoru since he sent her a text apologizing for skipping her meal. She was looking forward to sharing that delight with him again but that was still the least of her concerns despite what every fiber in her body was saying.

'FEED.', an internal voice guides.

She has managed through this time off of regular food, only possible through the rigorous self-training and the help of her friend Ieiri Shoko who is an unique doctor with unique interests. Shoko is a long-time friend of Satoru's but they all share the same employers, the elders.

The elders.

'Did they do something to Sati?', She wonders this through groans of agony. If she knew for a fact that she wouldn't subconsciously release her pheromones upon leaving the apartment, she would already be out looking for him now; although she wouldn't know where to begin. 'Getting in a situation like that is NOT going to help at all.' She scrunches her brow as she recalls all the things Gojo has advised against. 'Maybe I should try calling Toji again too…'.

'FEED.'

Her body has been screaming at her for the past 24 hours, feeling dehydrated, fevered and frail. The cells in her that she is composed of demand for her to seek out sustenance. She stands up from the couch to walk to her phone on the nightstand that still isn't displaying any notifications.

Sometimes she's still taken aback by it all…was she born this way? Who were her parents, to what lineage does she belong? She doesn't know.

Doesn't know or just can't remember.

She lost most of her memories aside from the last 3 years but sometimes distorted still frames of what may be memories? Play in her mind. She's always trying to make out the figures and the faces, some feeling more haunting than others. One thing she can say though is that Satoru felt familiar to her from the beginning so she trusts him.

"Sati, where are you...?" Elska squeaks in the dimly lit room, dropping to her knees from a breaking heart as three of her tears land on the phone screen.

—————-—————————————————————

    ———- THE PAST ——-

  He kneels down beside her as he takes in the details of her position on the floor, her on her side and her arms bound behind her back, knees slightly bent yet she still looks peaceful while she sleeps. Her shirt and skirt have become all disarranged so he thinks to help straighten it to complete this lovely picture. With the backs of his fingers, he grazes over her cheek and brushes away the brown hair covering the face he wishes to see.

"She's always so fucking beautiful.", he tells himself breathlessly.

And this is the only way.

He is going to be a better man. Now that he understands what it is that was eating away at his heart for these past months, he's vowed to become worthy of her; worthy of  embracing this second chance.

He's never felt love before, only fear, hatred and before that only neglect. He's always been surrounded by people growing up but due to his title and abilities he was always the prized possession of his clan, nothing more, nothing less. Although surrounded by other members throughout his life, he never was allowed the luxury of that intimacy that can be experienced between two people. Never in his monstrous existence has anyone held him the way she did, cried for him like she did, and he had been with MANY but no one made him physically feel like she did. He knows where she came from. He's privy to why she was brought between worlds and what her original purpose to serve was but he still cannot believe that some of his abilities are nullified in her presence and how hers  threaten him. It's such a beautiful power struggle, so dangerous; he's like a moth to a flame. The first time he made contact with her in person he discovered this.

Initially, however, when he found out about their plans of using her to execute him, he immediately knew he was going to have to kill her first. Even if she had special abilities, she was still far too weak to stand against him in a one on one. He knew their plans had not reached a ripening stage yet.

Long ago, he would call upon the Titer clan to provide him with a seer, for lack of better words as their inherited techniques are of a metaphysical nature. This technique once conjured, would allow him to peer through a seemingly ordinary bowl of water to see across the strings of dimensions that connected his world and others. At the time, only through these dimensional snapshots was he able to lay his eyes upon her; receiving images of her smiling, dancing, singing possibly? and…fucking? Still, they were his favorite silent movies and she was the star of them all.

'Who the fuck is that guy?' He remembers the possessiveness that swarmed within his dark heart the first time his movie was ruined by the fanged man. 'That should be me.'. He would watch intensely as the images would display the auburn-headed cunt biting into her body and drawing blood, this of which she seemed to thoroughly enjoy. He didn't fully understand why that was happening at the time but he also didn't care. "Yea, I'm going to have to kill him.", the words sharp and meant to reach whoever could hear.

"Titer!", he brashly calls for the shaman casting the technique to come into the room. As the man enters, the predator continues without taking his eyes of the bowl, though he's grown tired of seeing what is being shown.

"How many in your clan can produce this technique? And how long until I can travel there?" he eagerly asks the lower clansmen, finally switching his gaze to the the Titer draped in golden robes.

"There are 96 others that are capable of this technique, we're one of the few clans that still have a high shaman rate."  The Titer is referring to the successful birth ratio of shaman over normal humans. Most clans have had issues passing down their techniques in regards to recent generations, hinting the fear that the more time that passes between the present and the Golden age of Shamans long ago, the closer the death of shaman era in totality creeps near. It's another reason why this hostile and demanding man he's conjuring for is so special.

The predator remains still with unamused anticipation.

The Titer continues with, "The supplies should be gathered within weeks so your leave date will come soon. We will get you to where you want to go." The Titer man smiles as he watches the happiness spread across his client's face, happy to have been able to oblige to him today and that his neck hasn't left his body like the Titer before him.

The weeks dragged on before the predatorial man finally was able to embark on his journey. He was going to cross worlds to capture her. He no longer harbored an intent to kill her, no that thought became fleeting the first time he saw her through the water. This new strategy is much, much darker. He wants to have her, to own her, to dominate her. He wants to taste and fuck her like the fanged man that is living on borrowed time. He's going to rip that fucker's spine out through his esophagus on sight for ever have knowing her intimately.

Once he arrives to the Titer compound, the predator realizes how barbarically this long forgotten clan lives. They may have a lot of shaman sure but they lack taste and innovation. Old, damp wooden 'structures' if you will, they're not even quite shacks serve as homes and their golden robes are pristine despite the earth that seems to be the most common flooring. 'That's worth making note of' he suspiciously thinks to himself, 'It gets cold up here in the winter, how are they even alive without proper shelter?', squinting his eyes with distrust.

He can't believe that this scenery would be the first she would see once he brings her back. With his head tilted upwards towards the sky, he remains following his guide with the thoughts, 'The stars are so bright tonight. Of course they would be, they know she's coming here soon too.', a malevolent grin crossing his lips.

All of these memories flow through him while he reminisces over the evil that lurks in his soul studies her lying there. He's partially finding himself crazy right now for wanting to hide it...he used to just wear it; flaunted it even. He treated those around him as if they were nothing but reasons for him to be amused, her included, who he was especially cruel to. It was all out of love, he just didn't understand his feelings for her at the time; no did he know what the fuck that even was. He figured he was just incapable of it so his behavior towards her became this toxic mixture of power, control and sadism.

He releases a sad noise at the thought of the depravity he's going to have to bury down deep inside. He wants to be better now though, he understands more about what he means to her and her to him. He's just hoping this ploy works so she can forget that dark version of him and all of the things he did. After a special night that occurred between the two of them a couple of weeks ago, he's come to realize that this new, consensual bond formed was sacred. He was so amazed by the events that occurred, never having dreamt that they would blossom together like that, that she would give herself to him.

All of this time he thought he loved her spite but once met with her willingness, he couldn't simply remain as he was. He doesn't want to risk ever losing her, his prize. It's undeniable how capable they are together now but he's still in disbelief with how loving she somehow could still be towards him, the fucking monster that ruined her life.

Now sitting down beside her as she slumbers bound and on the floor, he begins to grow impatient with expectancy. The Titer walks into the room and drinks in the sight of this widely feared man curled up against the wall with his eyes trained on the small figured woman. This counters the information the Titer has been given about the man and the deadly, sickening tales that are rumored throughout the clans. His stomach turns at the grotesque thoughts but can read the urgency pouring from his client and thinks to say anything at all.

"She should be waking up any minute no-…", The Titer leans in with a whisper but cuts himself off with held breath.

'Finally!' The predator's grin appears and gradually widens with each new sign of her regaining consciousness. 'This has to work'.

The looming man launches up to his knees from his rear, kneeling over to her as she begins to stir. Her deep hazel eyes gradually part open, blinking several times to focus.

As her gaze centers she sees the man lurking over her and becomes startled. She doesn't recognize him but she does take in how handsome he is; tall and slender build but it looks like he's pretty toned too. He has silver hair that drapes into his eyes an- 'Holy hell!', her heart skips a beat, 'Those eyes. Is he even human?', she gawks cautiously at his wild expression.

He was enjoying her scan his body, he loves it when she does that; it made him feel like maybe she'll retrace her tracks with her hands or even something even better. Unable to contain his elation over having her back with him, the victory that courses through him knowing that his plan worked drives him mad. He's soon diving down onto her ready to dish out an onslaught of kisses to her face and neck. Her wants to trigger her right there.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! WHO ARE YOU" She screams at him wriggling her body away as much as she can in a bound panic. Her eyes are wide with fear and coupled quickened breathing.

The predator stands there in shock until the ironic truth violates him.

'No, no, no...FUCK...don't tell me...' his face becomes devoid of emotion as fear forms in his his head.

'This is NOT what I wanted!', he screams inside his mind, mortified by her mirroring confusion.

He jumps up to stand, quickly cruising toward the Titer who was visibly shaken at the sudden turn of events. He yanks the Titer by his collar and drags him out in the hall. He then smashes his hand in the Titers head, pinning him between the brick and exposing his face under the palm squishing against his forehead.

"Why does it seem like she DOESN'T REMEMBER me at all!?" the predator exercises all of the bass in his voice as he presses his palm down harder. "WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO!??", practically roaring with absolute ferocity.

The Titer's face fills with fear and pain as he's being crushed under the pressure of the his client's rage. " I- I don't know what happened, I followed the guiding words of our clan elders who's wisdom I was s-s-sure to bring us good f-fortune!" He is pissing himself now.

"The fucking elders?! You listened to those petrified pieces of shit?", he groans in irritation. He's sure the Titer has no idea what he's done by involving the higher ups but that doesn't suffice for the predator's rage. "How many members of your clan can perform this technique?", he beckons as he pushes the man's face even deeper into the wall; quiet crunching sounds that sound like a rope being pulled apart by force in response. The pain is so bad the Titer almost isn't able to scream his discomfort.

"AHHHHHHH PLEASE STOP! Plea-" The titer babbles and begs, surprised when he then feels the predator's mass letting up on his skull.

"How fucking many?!" the predator reluctantly repeats himself, angered by this whole fucking shit show of a situation. 'Did she really forget me?' rings in the back of his mind and consumes him with a dank pulmonary heaviness.

"Sixty-T-two", the Titer divulges, tensing up more while still being pinned to the wall. His arms and legs are shaking as he's feigning to not move a muscle wanting to leave there with his life. 'Please, God…no…', he cowers to the heavens in hope for his survival.

"Good." Is the only response the predator gives. Without another warning he looks into the eyes of the Titer who's are wide and wild, liquid fear pouring out of the lids. "Then they won't need you". He pushes all the force needed to split the Titers skull wide open on both sides asymmetrically above the ears. Soft broken chunks of brain slap the ground with an unmistakable audible texture followed by the pour of blood and cerebral fluid as they fountain out and crash to the to the tile. It actually soothes him.

He leans down over the body, wiping his hands off on the cleanest parts of the Titer's robes before he resurrects himself from the despair of the situation at hand.

'Am I going to have to start all over with her?', he wonders to himself in frustration. 'She was willingly giving her love to me, giving herself to me…', he curses at the thought of losing it all, he can't bear it actually. Racing through his mind, searching for an answer to this conundrum, 'I wonder if anyone has mastered a neurological restoration technique?' It crosses his thoughts as a slight possibility, but not seriously. "FUCK!", what is he going to do?

But then it dawns on him. This is his ultimate chance to really start anew with her. Yeah it may take some extra time but he won't have to worry so much, he can mold their relationship; contour it into the perfect one.

He can be everything to her that he wasn't before.

He has to take a step back from the blood pooling near his feet. "Fucking Titers.", he hisses while looking down at the body before continuing with his fantasy about how their domestic life will be. He will be coming home to a dinner spread, her setting the table in little satin night gown, 'Perhaps a dark blue one. Yea, she'd be hot in that!' He could go on forever imagining the different scenarios that revolve around him and her, just the two of them but he begins to hear shuffling coming out of the room where she was being kept.

'GOD DAMNIT I LEFT HER BOUND ON THE FLOOR!'

He whines, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose as he squeezes his eyes shut, "This is not at all how I planned this would go..."

Recomposing himself, he takes a deep dramatic breath as he steadies his limbs and straightens his posture. He runs his fingers through his hair in a nervously blind attempt to add style to it. Turning into the doorway of the room she's in, he leans down and smiles at her while slowly reaching for the restraints to signal to her that he was wanting to remove them, not hurt her. She sits there terrified, tense and not moving in a way to assist or to work against him but she seems to ease once the fabric is released. After she slowly brings her arms in front of her to rub her wrists, the man stands back up and reaches out a hand.

"Hello beautiful, my name is Satoru Gojo," he waits to gauge her response and thanks God that she isn't running, "And your name is Elska Oda. You and I are lovers."