Little Red Riding Ruki
By Lord Tarsisk.
Soyez influencé –Be influenced!
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(A/N:
>>>Someone’s POV<<<
Someone’s thoughts
“Someone’s speech…” As if you couldn’t tell that one. Honestly, some people are just plain stupid.
Omigod! Renamon just raped Ruki, though you might argue that Ruki enjoyed it. She won’t enjoy the aftermath, I can assure you that. She’s still stuck, with a butchered hand, under Renamon’s control, as well as her legs. But Takato is nearing… hopefully. Don’t worry; I have no plans to kill anyone soon… But will Takato be able to save Ruki? Will he ever get his real present? And does peanut butter really go well with bananas? Until now, no one knew…
And Rezu, I believe, is synonymous with Yuri; I’ve seen it used like that before.
Here it is… Little Red Riding Ruki, part III.
BTW: Takato is turning sixteen. Everyone else—even Ryo (though he doesn’t look it)—is fifteen.)
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>>>Ruki’s POV<<<
There has to be someone… anyone… Help… please! …
Ruki swooned as the memories began. A large wooden rod, a foot long, shoved halfway up one cunt and halfway up the other, forming a link between her and captor…
Captor… Renamon lay atop her, breathing heavily, her hips partly between Ruki’s thighs. She wouldn’t move, and Ruki was stuck, legs locked like scissors. The wooden rod was still there, like a stake through her mind. Renamon’s eyes continued to glow, even when she closed her eyelids… The red light shone through, scaring captive…
Captive… Ruki had been violated, raped, assaulted, subjected to a cruel assault of visions and feelings, scents and sensations. The only thing Ruki could think of was that now she wasn’t a virgin. She could say it wasn’t her fault, that it was an accident; but she knew all too well that she had accepted it at first. Now captive was stuck with the memories, hoping that sooner or later, savior would come.
But as of the moment, captive was stuck under captor, joined by rod, covered in sweat, and breathing heavily.
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Ruki wiped her eyes, her face blotchy, bruised, red, and bleeding. “Wh- why?” she asked between sobs.
Renamon sighed, slowly pulled herself off of the wooden stake, and extricated her legs from Ruki’s. Free at last, Ruki pulled herself up and moved into the corner, terrified of Renamon. Once there, she reached down and slowly pulled out the doweling from her raw organ, allowing cum and blood to dribble out. She placed a hand there; it was raw and extremely tender.
“Wh- why me?” She asked again, between pangs of pain.
“Because you’re exactly like myself, Ruki. You’ve withdrawn yourself from your family; you crave the nightlife and violence; your relationships are based on lies and deceit—hell, you carry knives with you at all times.
“Because you’re beautiful. You were easy. Vulnerable.
“Because you’re exactly what a bloodthirsty monster like myself needs to survive.”
Ruki stared. She couldn’t consider herself beautiful if this beast said so. “Then why did you try to kill me?”
Renamon sighed again. “I wanted so desperately to end my torment. You think it hurts? You know nothing about true pain.”
Ruki looked at her hand, through it to the bloodstained sheets below. Her eyes filled with more tears.
“To look at you and not simultaneously feel your young, tender flesh beneath me tears my soul to pieces. But from your pain I draw new pleasure, new life.”
Ruki curled her upper lip in disgust, daring a glance at her red eyes before looking away again, desperately trying to hide herself from Renamon’s piercing gaze, and having no luck. Renamon ignored her and continued, pacing around the room.
“And now, I have you. For years, listless nights spent watching you from afar, wondering how it would feel, Ruki. How you would feel.”
“You’re sick!”
“Maybe. But that isn’t a concern. No one can do anything about it: this is a cold, hard blizzard. Not a friendly soul for miles.” Renamon stopped in front of Ruki, and smiled her feral grin that Ruki feared so much and hated even more.
Ruki trembled with fright. “Just us?”
Renamon nodded. “Just us,” she confirmed.
A shadow, across the wall: something—or someone—blocked the moonlight from the outside. With the blizzard at a low, it was dead quiet, and Renamon strained to hear anything out of the ordinary, whilst walking up to the window to get a better view. Nothing.
“Just a cl-cloud,” Ruki said, weeping, as the terrifying truth set in.
“I suppose,” Renamon said, leaning away from the window and up against the wall, eyeing Ruki up and down, from breasts to hips to nether lips. “I suggest you take your clothing.”
Ruki looked towards the clothing rack, shook her head, and kept her distance, in case it was some sort of trick. She pulled the blankets up around her body with her left arm, and wiped her face with her left hand. She cringed as a shot of pain exploded from her back.
SNAP! A branch cracked in the distance.
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>>>Renamon’s POV<<<
Another victim of this accursed wind? Unlikely.
“So. There is someone else out there. Not for long, methinks.”
Ruki looked up to see Renamon’s fierce eyes scanning the outside through her window. What if someone’s here for me? Can’t let her sneak up on them. But how?
In a flash, she had an idea—despite the morality issues, she knew she had to try.
Renamon was about to open the door, and look outside, and kill whoever was out there. Ruki moaned, as convincingly as she could.
…Huh? …! Renamon paused.
It was now or never. Ruki dropped her blankets around her waist, leaned back, pushing her breasts outward, and stroked the delta of cherry-blonde hair surrounding her sex. She moaned, partly in fake pleasure, partly in real pain.
Renamon flipped around, cobalt-gray eyes turned blood-red once more. She stared, transfixed, as Ruki tentatively inserted a finger, and massaged the inside of her walls, under the outer lips, gasping. Another finger. Ruki continued to swirl her slender, dexterous fingers around her walls, then pushed in further, forcing herself to keep from crying—it still hurt from the mere moments ago.
Renamon growled—at the exact moment that the door behind her creaked open. Ruki gave a weak smile, careful to avoid eye contact with those awful red eyes.
A shadow across the room, behind Renamon, flickering from the firelight as it quietly picked up—
Ruki saw movement out of the corner of her eye and moaned louder, drawing her captor closer. A third finger, and another, while her thumb began stroking and rubbing her clit. The hand began picking up pace, forcing itself in and out, deeper and deeper.
Renamon smirked. Horny little slut, isn’t she? she thought, beginning to salivate. Her tail twitched, held high above her back; the arousal was apparently airborne, spreading contagiously from one crotch to another.
“I’m going to enjoy this,” Renamon said to herself, grabbing Ruki by the hips and lifting her up.
>>>?’s POV<<<
That’s it… no more!
“Not as much as I will, you SON OF A BITCH!” Takato screamed as he swung the frying pan as hard and as fast as he could.
Thunk! As the pan connected with the back of Renamon’s neck before she could react. Her feet flew out from under her; she dropped Ruki on the bed—who landed, hard, on her left hand and screamed—and hit the floor head first.
“Takato!” Ruki screamed, ignoring his bleeding nose.
“Ruki!” He looked at her, then sharply looked back at Renamon and swung the frying pan—
CH-THUNK!
—Swung the frying pan down hard, hitting Renamon in the back. She snarled, pushed herself up and grabbed him by the waist; holding him still, she stood up, shakily, and spat out a wad of blood.
“Oh, you’ll pay, demon!” Taking her claws, Renamon swiped. Takato leaned back, but she was too fast, slashing Takato across the front from his right underarm to his left thigh, tearing the front of his shirt to shreds, cutting dangerously close to one of his nipples. She laughed as he shook with pain, and dropped him, back first, on the hard, wood floor; she bent down, over him, and stood on all fours. Laughing, she punched him in the face, hitting him under his right eye.
“Takato!” Ruki yelled.
“Aaahhhh!” Takato cried in pain as his vision spiked to a cold black before fading back to normal. His lifted his heel and kicked Renamon in the chest. His left hand frantically searched for the frying pan.
Renamon ignored him and his kick, and turned back to Ruki, who had frozen in fear with her hand halfway up her nether region.
“And… don’t think… that I’ve forgotten… you, Ruki,” she panted, seething rage. “Never, ever try to deceive me again, Ruki, or you’ll end up with much more than a sore mound, my dear.”
“Don’t call her that!” Takato screamed, standing and punching her under her left eye. And again. Again. Renamon shrieked, and watched with slowed reactions and blurred vision as Takato heaved the dented frying pan at her shoulders with all his weight.
CLANG! The frying pan hit the floor.
WHUMPF! Renamon hit the ground, hard, breathing heavily, red blood clotting her yellow fur. For a second, Takato stood there, panting, bleeding, and wincing, before he turned to Ruki, who was crying quietly. He gripped his chest in pain, but slowly pulled himself over to her, smiling a half-smile that was coated in exertion and pain.
“Oh, god, what happened to your hand?” Takato asked quietly in disbelief as he looked through it to the flesh underneath.
Ruki’s face twisted up as she started to cry: tired and embarrassed; emotionally raped and physically raped; abused and tormented; beaten and bitten—Ruki’s cries of pain and suffering turned to wails of anguish as the shock wore off and the memories, blocked by her subconscious, returned in full force, fresh as if real.
“C-come on, it’s all over now, Ruki. D-don’t worry,” he said, starting to cry as well as the reality set in. He bent over her, kissing her on the lips, tears dropping onto her face. “Come on, Ruki. We need to go.”
“But… I can’t walk… It hurts… oh, it hurts!” she cried silently. Takato drew in a deep breath, and barked a sob as he picked her up, looking at her numerous wounds. He turned towards the door; careful to walk far around the bleeding hump that was Renamon.
“But… oh, g-god, Takato! I thought… I… You… Oh, Takato!” Ruki cried.
“Shh,” he murmured, calming his breath, lowering his heart rate. He kicked the door open, letting in the cold, hard blizzard that had just picked up and carefully moved into the snow, taking first one step, then another. Ruki shivered, and curled into a ball around Takato’s chest, taking the fetal position; she watched in slight awe as the bright red cuts pulsed in and out with his heavy breathing.
“What are we going to do now?” she asked loudly, so as to be heard over the roar of the snow, billowing past him in waves. He nervously searched for Ryo, who hopefully still knew where Kenta was—all the way back to the hole in the air.
“I take us back home. You rest.” He said, pushing his way forward. “Once we reach Ryo—You know Ryo, right? —He’ll point towards Kenta, who knows where Jenrya is…”
Ruki nodded, and pushed up against Takato, trying to keep warm, and fell unconscious. He wrapped his hands around her and continued walking, as the cabin fell out of view from behind a hill.
---
Takato met up with Ryo, who ran up to them, careful to keep his bearings.
“God, Takato! Where were you! It’s freaking cold here, I was about to turn back—oh. My. God…” he drifted off, seeing Ruki, bruised and bleeding. “What happened to her?”
“She was raped, I think,” Takato said quietly, panting, while he looked down at Ruki. “Oh, shit, she’s paling. I need you to carry her, Ryo.”
Ruki’s face was losing color.
Ryo gulped, nodded, and slowly took Ruki into his arms. She shifted, but remained unconscious, as Takato pulled off his coat and wrapped it around Ruki’s upper body. He watched her breath for a moment, her breaths condensing in front of their eyes. He then looked at Ryo.
“You touch her, you DIE.” He glared till Ryo nodded, and they turned and started trudging back towards Kenta.
The snow drifted around them like liquid lightning, forcing itself somehow into their clothes, chilling them to their very core, while the sky overhead brightened for a few moments as clouds drifted past and around the moon. A dark shape drifted over them; for a moment the two teens—Takato, Ryo—looked up, and watched a bird of massive proportions fly by, far too large to be a conventional bird.
“A plane?” Ryo wondered.
As if to answer, the shape in the air let out a large screech and turned in midair. It was at least forty feet long, with wings that looked like they cold lift a small car, no more.
“No, I don’t think so… Are we even… on Earth?”
Ryo shrugged, and readjusted his grip on Ruki, who twitched in her unconsciousness. “Uhh, Takato?”
“Yes?”
“Do you, uhh… never mind—” Ryo paused, losing his resolution to ask such a sticky question.
“Do I—what?”
Ryo sighed. “Do you—love her? Ruki?”
Takato stopped, looked him in the eye, and then lowered his gaze to Ruki. He nodded, slowly at first, then faster. “Ya, I think I do. She’s beautiful, sweet, and not as invincible or as difficult as we thought.”
Ryo nodded. They continued walking, looking for Kenta.
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Takato looked back to Ryo, who was deep in concentration, both straining to keep up and hold Ruki, as well as trying to respect Takato’s wishes of not letting his hands wander. His eyes moved from Ryo to Ruki, who continued to evade consciousness. His heart leapt every time she stirred, but each time she did, Ryo had to readjust his grip.
He stopped walking, letting the others carry on ahead.
“Here, Ryo; you need a rest. Let me take her.”
“Okay,” Ryo nodded. “I was being very careful, and all—”
“I know, and I thank you. I would rather she woke and saw my face, right?”
Ryo nodded again, as he cautiously handed Ruki over to Takato, a very awkward operation. He patted Takato on the back, who was shivering along with Ruki, being without a coat. They struggled to catch up to the others.
A heavenly sight: Juri, jumping up and down to get their attention. They could just make her out through the thick, white snow. Takato smiled: they were there, finally. He looked around and soon could make out the hole, large as ever, leading back home. He felt Ruki stir in his arms.
Takato smiled. She looked up at him, at his beaten, weathered face, and smiled. She couldn’t help but smile as they stared at each other.
“Ruki-chan?”
“Yes, Takato-chan?”
Takato paused. It had been rather easy to say to Ryo; but then it had been more of a boast, and Ryo didn’t matter. Now it did.
“I—I love you, Ruki-chan. I think I always had, though I didn’t know it.”
Ruki smiled, as she continued to shiver; a tear slowly made it down her face.
Takato looked up and saw the other five on the other side of the gate: Ryo. Kenta. Hirokazu. Jenrya. Juri. They were all waiting patiently, most smiling, others blushing. Even as they approached the gate, Ruki pulled from his embrace and stood, cautiously testing her legs and her ability to walk again. She hadn’t stood in about seven hours, since being ‘found’ by Renamon.
He lifted her up, thankful that his coat went down to her knees. She slid over the edge of the rim, and stood on the other side, waiting for him. Takato drew a deep breath, and hoisted himself up and over.
A sudden reversal of senses: new, brighter light from the lampposts; a slight difference in gravity and depth, distance; new sounds, quieter sounds, less roaring wind; and warmth, gracious warmth. The sights of the familiar Shiujuku suburbs were reassuring, to say the least.
Juri walked up to Ruki and gave her a hug. “Ruki! We thought we’d lost you!”
“You… all cared about me?”
They all nodded. Ryo turned to find a payphone and call for an ambulance.
“Thank you, all,” she whispered, smiling, as the sudden happiness and sense of belonging began to counter her pain and anguish. “Thank you, Takato. I love you too. You could have died there. For me. I thought you had—” she said, starting to weep.
“You’re welcome. And I didn’t die; I’m still here, with you. Now please, rest. You need it.”
Ruki nodded, leaned up against his chest, and closed her eyes, losing focus almost immediately.
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>>>Ruki’s POV<<<
Saturday
It’s been about a week since She took me. Since Takato saved me. Since then, I’ve spent most of my time in the hospital and in a rehabilitation clinic. It seems almost unnatural, but my hand has almost completely healed. I’ve lost most of the feeling in it, but I tell myself that I don’t care. I’m just happy to be alive.
Takato is, too. He’s spent every waking moment either by my bed or by my side at the clinic; I returned to school for Friday, under the excuse that my mom and I had left to see my grandma and had been too busy to come to school or to work. She’s fine, now; a minor blood-clot near one her arteries, or something like that—I don’t really remember what it was.
Takato has been really nice and kind to me; he’s brought me flowers every day that I was in the hospital and that he was awake enough to do so. I think he’s afraid that I’ll forget him; he seems to be insecure about our relationship, even though he loves me and I love him. Maybe he’s just never been in a real relationship. He thinks that he has to hold on to my love, as if it would get up and run away. He won’t say that’s I’m his girlfriend, because he doesn’t want to own me—which is caring enough. He asks before saying I’m his girlfriend. I guess I’ll have to do something to prove my love and devotion to the man—he is a man, in my mind—that saved my life.
It was very terrifying when She punched him. It looked like he had his face hit with a sledgehammer. I’m just glad he was released from the hospital sooner than I was. They wanted to run some tests, to see whether I’d suffered any real damage to my uterus or anything else. Thankfully, however, nothing seems to be permanent. The doctor said my hand might never fully heal, but it should be mobile again in a few days—indeed, it is now. I can feel out of my thumb and pinky finger, but that’s it—not even any feeling from my palm. They gave me a special glove, to keep me from getting it cut and not noticing.
As for school, most of my classmates avoided me, which was just fine; I needed to be alone for a while. I hit rock bottom when I couldn’t feel the paper under my left hand, or the glove, and had to be excused and helped to the washroom—thank goodness I can still write with my right hand, like I am now. Though I wasn’t alone at all: Takato was always within a breath’s distance from me, as were the others that helped me get home after She took me.
Nobody at school knows the truth, which is just fine. They know Takato saved my life, but that’s about it. The police are out looking for a balding man, about 5’8”, with a large overbite. If only they could ever understand the truth. Only Takato’s parents, as well as my mom, know what really happened… sort of.
I still don’t know Her real name, which is also just fine. Though my physical scars are temporary, me emotional scars are not, and I’m glad I have one less thing to worry about. I still don’t know if she’s made it or not—hopefully not. It seems weird, even frightful, to hope someone dead, but She deserved it. If anyone did, She deserved it.
It also seems weird to love Takato—not eight days ago he was just a curiosity who’d bought me a comic, which now I treasure beyond all his flowers. I have about fourteen bouquets on my nightstand, as I write this—five from Takato, one from everyone else. My relatives sent four, total. The ones from Takato aren’t very expensive, but he doesn’t have a lot of money, and I don’t care, anyways.
There’s one thing that might bother me in the future, if anything happens between Takato-chan and I. He saw me naked—Well, he saw a little more than that, according to his bleeding nose. While he had bigger things on his mind, and I did too, we couldn’t become friends again if we had to. I hope that what we have stays together: high school relationships are the hardest to maintain. But Takato has been pretty loyal, even if it is mostly insecurity. He hasn’t looked at a single girl except for science class when another student made a demonstration. I don’t care if his eyes wander, but I appreciate his desire and devotion.
It’s late now, and I have to go—Juri’s going to take me shopping for a new outfit. She’s been a real girlfriend lately… I have NEVER been able to say that before. It felt so nice to have a real friend; now I have six. But I really have to go. I have a date with Takato tonight. I’ll write later.
Ruki
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Well, there you go—chapter III of the infamous Little Red Riding Ruki. The end? I hope not, though in the end, it’s you who’ll decide. Should I do the date? Should they have hot, spicy sex? Do you feel real good just thinking about it? Should they be more romantic, and go slowly? Should I end it here? (Shudder. I hope not.) Read, review, and Be Influenced!
© 2002 LORD TARSISK (Not the characters, or anything else Toei owns, just everything else! Don’t steal my ideas, or the insects will get you!)