Cirno missed a block, and the parasol connected with her right leg. Bone snapped, skin tore, muscles severed. Only Yuka with her barbaric strength could have made a parasol cut like an axe. Another failed parry; her ribs splintered into white toothpicks. Yuka pulled Cirno’s blade deliberately into her side and held it there as she crushed Cirno’s left shoulder with “the flower that never withers”, her insanity giving her the power of giants.
Cirno’s attacks slowed, her left arm dangling useless by her side, her brain piloting her body like a ship’s captain who has no choice but the sink along with his vessel. Yuka beat her into submission, the fairy barely even able to dodge now. The fight was meaningless now, but Yuka continued to bruise Cirno again and again, extracting every last bit on pain she possibly could.
“You—will—remember—every—single—petal—of—every—single—flower—you—killed!” the witch Kazami screamed, each word accompanied by a sickening slap across the cheek, her face bleeding by the time she was finished with the sentence. Cirno couldn’t fight back anymore, could barely even move. It was all over now. Unless…
“And now…” Yuka grinned, strangling Cirno with her right hand as she hung the parasol across her extended forearm with the left, flexing her open fingers ominously. “Your virginity. I will be taking it.”
There was no warning. No preparation. Nothing that could possibly be called “foreplay”. Lifting Cirno high, Yuka thrust her tense fingers under Cirno’s skirt, not even bothering to remove her underpants before this perverse attack. The fingernails tore through fabric, lips, skin and flesh like water, never pausing, never slowing an iota. Cirno’s body became liquid pain as Yuka penetrated her most private areas, clawing at her insides with nails made of steel. This was not rape; this was torture. There was no pleasure, not even the illusion of it. Only pain, only agony, only the mad, lustful, drunk laughter of this green-haired woman who was stealing from Cirno the one experience in life which should be the greatest thing anyone should ever experience. Blood flowed from Cirno’s defiled orifice, slithering down Yuka’s arm like a snake, lubricating it as she slid her hand in and out. In and out. In and out.
Her red eyes gazed into Cirno’s dull blue ones with an air of complete and utter dominance, her lids just barely lowered in the haughtiest of haughty manners. She smiled with a pleasure only she could comprehend.
“You lose.”
Cirno gritted her teeth through the agony that was consuming her soul, the pain of this penetration a thousand times higher than the pleasure normally experienced. Her world was nothing but fire, a cold fire she could not control. The cold fire of a shattered ribcage. The cold fire of a dangling leg, barely attached. The cold fire of a now-dead arm. The cold fire of her insides being ripped apart by this, this thing. The cold fire of her heavy sword, still clutched in a rigid hand.
Her sword.
There was no warning. No preparation. Nothing that could possibly be called “foreplay”. With a determination born of suffering itself Cirno curled her hand forwards, tensed her good arm, and struck. The blade swung upwards, under Yuka’s legs, through her red checkered skirt. It pierced the flesh of her womanhood, and kept going. It separated the bones of her loins, and kept going. It traveled upwards through her stomach, her lungs, her heart, and kept going. It burrowed upwards through her neck, through her brain, and kept going. With one last scream Cirno ripped the sword through Yuka’s skull where it remained lodged, the whole of her body impaled upon this shaft of steely ice.
Cirno looked at Yuka’s glowing eyes, the fire quickly being replaced with dying red coals. She managed a weary grin and twisted the blade for emphasis.
“You lose more.”
Blood bubbled from Yuka’s still-smiling lips as her consciousness left her and she tumbled to the ocean, her hand slipping painfully out of Cirno’s womb in the process. Cirno’s eyes could barely focus as she watched the rapist fall, fall, fall to the icy waters below. It was over. She was more than half-dead, but it was over.
ENJOY YOUR MENTAL IMAGES. HERE IS CIRNO:
HERE IS YUKA:
I HATE YOU ALL
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