/jp/ - Otaku Culture

>>21995113
(3/3)
I turn to my brother, and he hangs his head in shame. Looking at him again, I see that it is not only his frame that has changed. Although I had been distracted by the tears running down his cheeks, I notice now that his face has a softness that it hadn't since we were but lads, and a bizarre warping of his ears. Feeling my gaze upon him, he solemnly reaches up with his softened hands and removes his helmet, shaking out his silver hair underneath. There are long ashen horns there, tightly gripping his head in a demonic embrace.
Were it any other man who had been so tainted by dark magic there would be no staying my hand, but at the thought of striking down my dearest friend I am unable to even draw my blade from its sheath.
There is neither time nor space in these dark woods for regret. The monsters know that a man is here now, they close in on us by the day. We do not even take the time to deliver a finishing blow when we defeat one, every moment is likely to be the difference between life and death. That we've only sacrificed some of our principles and not all is the closest thing to success we have found. I am referring to the strategy that we have resorted to taking.
The monsters acknowledge my Brother as one of their own; they call her an "Alp". Some of them respect me as her property and let us go by unmolested. Some tribal leaders challenge her for my hand in single combat; it is far easier than facing a rampaging horde, and the beasts are often surprised at the strength of the greatest fencer at the academy with demonic force behind his blows. Some still attack us without question; for them we fight side by side as always.
Of course, for this strategy to be effective, she must look the part of an Alp, and has done so with aplomb. She always had a knack for fashion, even if her only materials are what we have stolen. Our need to forage has been greatly reduced as only I still need to eat, so we can spend the majority of our days in flight. That being said, many of her battles are close, and I must carry her away in my arms as she barely clings to life. There is but one balm for such wounds, and it is my own essence. On an unfortunate number of occasions I have had no choice but to provide her with it. Indirectly, of course, but the morn after each occasion, her form has altered subtley again, inching closer to my darkest desires, and I do not know how long I will be able to control myself. I see it in her eyes too; they gloss over whenever they catch mine, and her tail curls upon itself in the most adorable fashion whenever she catches me in a state of undress.