Sin Eater 2

Silky black locks drifted past my brows and fell over my eyes and I found myself automatically slicking it back as I continued to observe my features.

My new features shouldn't have captured my attention so intensely. They were just another oddity in this new life that I was slowly beginning to accept.

Examining my reflection in the slow-moving water winding through the forest, I regarded my features with skepticism. How could I ever hope to blend back into regular society looking like this?

My nose was button-like, and my almond-shaped eyes with a pair of slit pupils were framed by lashes so dark they stood out starkly against my snow-pale skin. The haunting shade of pale purple in my eyes gave me an otherworldly appearance, as if all color had been drained from me, heightening the eerie facade of my new form. Despite this transformation, my movements were marked by a fluid grace that would have inspired envy in any onlooker.

All these features combined to give me an uncanny faerie countenance, one of those faces that teetered on the edge of the uncanny valley.

Yes, Fae was the closest thing I could describe my new self as.

As I moved my hands to cradle my face, still coming to terms with the reflection that stared back at me with surprisingly emotive eyes, the crack of a branch breaking a few feet behind me, forced me to scramble to my feet, as I turned to face the threat.

Which turned out to be a giant elk. The giant fur of meat and antlers stared back at me with unexpectedly intelligent eyes. As it observed my lack of aggression, it turned its head and trotted away with what seemed like a hint of arrogance. "Yeah, that’s right, run off!" I muttered sarcastically.

But really, arrogance? Now I was anthropomorphizing animals. The solitude was getting to me; I needed some form of human contact or I feared I'd lose my grip on sanity in the coming days. I struggled not to dwell on the other reason for my yearning—a growing emptiness gnawing at my stomach.

It had been about a week since I awoke on that bloodstained, snow-covered battlefield, confronted with the reality of what I had become. Unfortunately, I was no adept woodsman; my only saving grace was that finding water wasn't too difficult, even if it was hindered by the slow-moving ice. I assume if I had a regular human diet, I would've most likely died by now. Yet the greatest problem was the uncanny sensation that had been creeping up for the past two days. It felt like I was a deer staring into a headlight—a nervous rabbit, ears swiveling, searching for the hungry wolf that it knew was there but couldn’t spot for some reason. I felt like prey, and something within me rebelled at the sheer thought. A combination of my body’s instinct and the unholy blood that pumped through my veins refused to succumb to that feeling.

Instead of following my instincts urging me to turn and face my supposed hunters, I had done the smart thing and ran, and I had been running for days.

The sound of a low growl from behind me turned my blood to ice as I slowly turned to face what had truly made the elk run off.

My pale yellow eyes widened at the sight of the wolf standing across the slowly moving stream. It was a small thing, maybe two or three feet tall. With a quick assessment of the danger it posed to me, I relaxed and began to think.

Wolves were supposed to be extinct, at least in Japan. I wasn’t the biggest history buff, but I had enough fascination with wolves to learn that they had gone extinct before the 1900s. This, more than anything I had seen in the forest over the past few days, was the clearest sign that I was in the past—in fucking demon slayer.

Another growl in the bushes to the left rekindled my surprise and fear as I saw another wolf step out, then another and another, totaling up to five wolves with varying shades of brown fur to lighter shades of gray.

The lead one, the one I had spotted first, took a cautious step towards me, its padded feet pressing lightly against the snow, which had allowed it to sneak up on me.

Its next step took it into the water, and it flinched back from the cold before shaking off the feeling and taking another step. I was frozen until I wasn’t. Two instincts battled for supremacy. My hands twitched towards the sword at my hip, while my body seemed to want to hunch over.

The latter won, and I found myself hunching over before a sound reverberated through the forest, shaking leaves and sending snow patches that had been suspended on them to the floor. It was a demented tractor, forced to start while running solely on jet fuel.

I blinked at the sudden unfamiliar sound before I realized with surprise that the sound came from my throat. I could already feel the pain that came with forcing my throat to make such an inhuman sound easing, as my body worked to heal my throat.

With the full moon’s glare as the only major source of light, I stood hunched over and in a crouch like some kind of wild animal, staring the five wolves down.

Aberrant predator against a natural one and the wolves were the first to spook. I saw it in the way their muscles bunched under their heavy fur, in the dilation of their pupils, and in the way the fur around their necks rose.

They were scared, and that knowledge stirred something in my gut. It was that intense, overwhelming urge to rip and tear at something so weak, so beneath me that drew me away.

Like a fire that had been scalded, I recoiled from myself and eased out of my crouch. Unlike me, the lead wolf wasn’t so hesitant; it leaped the remaining gap over the water and went for my throat.

Yet, even confused and fighting my own body and instinct, my hand snapped out and caught the wolf by its neck. I spun on the spot, flinging it with all of its momentum into a tree a few meters away.

The sharp crack of feeble bones breaking against centuries-old wood rang out in the clearing, and the yelp of pain the animal let loose before dying twisted the atmosphere in the forest.

The remaining four that had moved to follow their leader were frozen as they continued to stare at me. Even without my unholy blood driving me to act, I was on the precipice of violence. I had never been a particularly violent person, but I was proactive when pushed, and there was no greater push than being eyed by four predators.

They kept glancing at the form of the thrown wolf and back at me. I suddenly read their hesitation. I could smell it in the air, note it in their pupils, see it in their puckered and elevated brows, with their ears pressed against their heads and their tails hidden behind their bulk.

It all made so much sense, and I knew that if it were another human in the same situation before me, the urge to rip into them would’ve been overwhelming. But whatever unholy hunger I held had no interest in the animal.

It was a tense standoff for a few seconds more before the new lead wolf, sensing no malice or threat, straightened a bit and backpedaled. A few moments later, it turned around and bounded off into the forest, leaving me alone with an overly enthusiastic and dead wolf.

…

I returned to my claimed house with little struggle, even with the dead wolf cradled in my arms. Its weight was nearly nonexistent, not because it hadn't fed enough.

The moment I stepped through the broken-down door, I halted as my nose picked up another smell. My eyes widened, scanning the dark corners, but my search revealed nothing. The room appeared exactly as I left it, yet I knew with a certainty borne of my inhuman senses that someone—or more accurately, something—had been here.

I let the wolf’s carcass drop gently, like a feather, and tried to move silently. The sun would rise soon, in less than an hour, so my immediate impulse—to sprint for a new shelter—was out of the question.

A heavily creaking floorboard underfoot made me wince at the sound, freezing in place from a mix of shame and embarrassment. A ninja, I was not.

After a few tense seconds passed without a response to my failed attempt at stealth, I breathed a sigh of relief. It confirmed what my senses had already told me—I was alone in the house.

With that reassurance, I moved with more confidence, nose in the air like a bloodhound, tracking the scent. I could detect multiple people, though I couldn't discern how many. I had only been doing this for days, so instead of dwelling on my limitations, I focused on more practical tasks.

…

Surprisingly, it was not hard to get a fire going. There were plenty of fire starters in the house, and the building was broken down enough that I just randomly picked a section and broke off some dried wood before making myself a fire.

Hovering above the bastion of heat, warmth, and ancient man’s power over lesser animals was my wolf. Badly skinned and with patches of what I suspected were still fur, but with any luck, the fire would burn it up either way. A samurai sword was not the most effective tool for butchering and skinning food. It was definitely not a result of my nonexistent experience at butchering my own meat.

“Not like you’d care, either way, right? You’re already dead.” I waited for a second for a reply before I realized I was talking to the slowly cooking carcass of a wolf that tried to kill me.

Damn it. I needed civilization. I couldn’t continue like this. This wilderness lifestyle was tearing at my sanity. The fact that something had tracked me from where I’m guessing, was my field of rebirth was only the icing on the cake.

The scent of the slowly cooking meat distracted me once more, pulling me from the depths of my brooding. The absurdity of my situation struck me: in the anime, demons only ate humans, but that wasn't reason enough to start consuming people in real life—my life now. This was no longer just a story.

I continued to stare, my mind a whirlpool of desperation. The fear and instincts that once surged through my unholy blood were eerily absent. I felt like a wolf circling a camp, waiting for the fire to die so it could attack the unsuspecting inhabitants. But unlike the wolf, I felt a hollow emptiness gnawing at my core, a growing dread of the life that awaited me.

Finally, I reached out and grabbed the closest skewer. I examined it for a long second. It looked okay. In my past life, I wouldn’t have touched it even if you paid me. It was a badly skinned, poorly cooked mess without seasoning. But this was the first meat I encountered that didn't completely revolt me.

I brought it to my mouth and took a hesitant bite. My teeth slipped through the meat with an unsettling ease, confirming that whatever I was now, a vegetarian I could not fake even if I wanted to.

I chewed the meat for another long second. The aroma that once tempted me now betrayed me; it tasted like ashes and dust. Yet I forced myself to swallow. It didn't need to taste good, just as long as it had some nutritious value. Anything to delay the inevitable craving for human flesh, anything to buy time while I figured out what the hell had gone wrong, and why I was trapped in this cursed world.

Then I made the biggest mistake, one I swore I would never make again. I swallowed.

It felt like rancid chicken teeming with maggots like someone had mopped up vomit with a filthy rag and squeezed the foul contents down my throat. The sensation was unbearable, a vile, putrid wave of nausea.

It had not even gone past my throat when I forced myself to my feet and vomited so violently, it felt like a projectile. Sorrow racked through my frame, and I found myself refusing to simply agree to this. Maybe it was just the particular meat I picked. The human mind was a curious thing; it would have you rationing anything, weaving intricate lies to protect itself from harsh realities. It can rationalize the irrational, turning blatant truths into palatable half-truths. In moments of despair, it clings to the faintest hope, creating illusions of comfort and safety. This self-deception was a survival mechanism, a desperate attempt to maintain sanity in the face of overwhelming odds, even when deep down, we know the truth we're avoiding.

I lied about not making that mistake again.

I surged at the still-cooking pieces of meat and shoved another set into my mouth. This time, I didn’t even bother with the fantasy of chewing. I simply tried to force it into my gullet. As if punishing me for even daring to try again, pain wracked my form as this piece somehow managed to taste even worse than the first. Like my body was revolting at the thought of eating something else and adapting to make it even worse to dissuade me from trying again.

Do you want to know what tastes worse than maggot-infested meat? Worse than a shit-stained and soaked rag that somehow found a way to mop up marinated vomit before being shoved into my mouth? Well, I couldn’t explain it, luckily for you.

This time, I vomited with tears in my eyes and sobs following the heaves. My yellow eyes returned to the still-cooking meat. I refused to give in. I could be stubborn when I wanted to be, and this time my stubbornness veered to the edge of insanity. Madness and anger at my fate filled my eyes as I surged forward once more, dragging off another skewer before shoving it into my mouth.

Thus continued the process: eating, and vomiting, while wracked with silent tears and sobs, as the realization began to sink in.

I curled on the floor, vomit staining my threadbare clothes, and cried myself to sleep. My body was still wracked with the pain that resulted from forcing an unnatural, hyper-fixated carnivore to try something else. As I floated into the darkness of despair, I saw a pair of red eyes staring at me in amusement.

It had been drawn to my struggle and suffering, watching and feeling me make a fool of myself. Even in the depths of my despair, I recognized that pair of slitted eyes anywhere. It could change forms as much as it liked, but they say the eyes are the windows to the soul, and that couldn’t be more correct here.

“Curse you,” I whispered with my last breath before I turned unconscious. I watched the surprise turn to curiosity which shifted into amusement before settling on annoyance. Good. Fuck that guy. I didn’t know how, but I was certain he had something to do with why I was here. After all, it was his unholy blood flowing in my veins.

A/N: The name is still a place holder. If someone has anything better, I’ll change it. Till then, I think this new one isn’t horrible.