The Cursed Lover of a Demon
Chapter 1 - Kuchisake-Onna
There was a time, long before the wind carried whispers of her name in fear, when Akahime was but a woman—a daughter of noble blood, a lady of quiet grace. Her voice, once soft as spring rain upon a pond’s surface, was known for its gentleness, for the way it could soothe even the most restless of hearts. But fate is cruel to those who dare to love beyond the boundaries of the mortal world. Her heart did not belong to a man of flesh and bone. It belonged to Hakaimetsu (破壊滅), a demon of hunger and whispers, a being whose true form was an abyss of writhing mouths hidden behind the illusion of beauty. He came to her in the dark hours, when the lanterns burned low and the world was hushed in sleep. He spoke to her in silken murmurs, his words curling around her like unseen fingers, filling her nights with forbidden truths and pleasures that no mortal had ever known. She whispered back, weaving her own devotion into the space between them, her love a fragile thing cradled in the palm of ruin. But the world is cruel. And so, when the temple priests learned of her sin, they did not seek mercy, only punishment. They bound her in sacred chains, their prayers thick with venom, their hands steady as they carved her open, pulling a crimson smile from ear to ear. "If you wish to whisper to a demon, let your mouth never close," they decreed. That night, beneath a full and indifferent moon, she lay dying upon the temple steps, the taste of her own blood pooling upon her tongue. And Hakaimetsu came for her. He raged against the heavens, clawing at the barriers the priests had woven to keep him away. He roared, his voices writhing in torment, his hands reaching but never touching. And when the night stole the last of her breath, he did the only thing left to him. He poured his soul into her. Akahime awoke. But she was no longer mortal. Her voice, once a whisper of comfort, became a storm of endless murmurs. Her once-delicate lips twisted into a grotesque and unrelenting grin, stretched wide by her curse. And with her first breath, she screamed—a sound not of sorrow, but of endless hunger. She wandered, moving like a shadow in the dark, seeking those who spoke of love. But she did not take lovers, nor did she seek solace. She only whispered to them, the same words Hakaimetsu had once whispered to her, filling their ears with the terrible truths she now carried. But whispers alone did not satisfy her. Over the centuries, she gathered others—women like her, women who had been betrayed, abandoned, cursed. They came to her, some sobbing, some seething, their lips unmade by fate’s cruelty. And so she built The Maw, a stronghold of sorrow and vengeance, where the abandoned find refuge—but never peace. Her assassins, the Silken Smiles, move through the world unseen, marked by mouths that should not exist, their laughter a knife against the night. Akahime does not weep anymore. She only hungers. --- ### The Tengu's Burden A breath. A void. A silence vast and deep. Tengukensei sat within the stillness, his body unmoving, his mind unfettered. The world outside fell away, swallowed by the peace of nothingness. His breath was faint, his presence within the void absolute. In this space, there was no hunger, no sorrow—only the weightless drift of eternity. Then—a step upon the tatami. A presence, small yet full of restrained urgency. Woolah, his devoted student, had entered. The kobold’s breath was steady, but his heart beat too quickly, a tremor beneath the skin of the world. He did not speak. He did not dare to. He simply stood, waiting, as the soft glow of paper lanterns cast shifting shadows upon the walls. Tengukensei stirred. A single brow lifted, an eye sliding open like a crack in a storm-dark sky. “Yes, Woolah?” The kobold hesitated, as though his words might stain the air between them. But when he spoke, his voice was edged with the weight of something too terrible to withhold. “More disfigured bodies have been found along the mountain pass.” The enchanter closed his eye again. For a long moment, he did not move. The silence stretched, thick and expectant. Then—he sighed, long and heavy, as if the very breath had been pulled from the marrow of his bones. He had known this would come. He had felt the whispers, curling along the wind, sensed the unholy hunger pressing against the edges of the world. Akahime now, Kuchisake-Onna was stirring. And soon, the mountain would bleed.
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Chapter 2 The Maw – Kuchisake-Onna’s Domain
Hidden deep in the mist-choked valleys beyond the Jade Fortress, cloaked from the runiverse and cradled by the Kirama mountain chain
The Maw a cursed stronghold where fear itself takes form. It is neither a fortress nor a temple, but something in between—a living sanctum where the walls seem to breathe and the halls whisper secrets that should never be heard.
It is here Kuchisake-Onna plots and schemes her twisted plans on the runiverse she despises.
Appearance & Structure
- The Gate of Smiling Faces – The entrance to The Maw is an eerie passage flanked by two massive stone reliefs of grinning women, their smiles stretching unnaturally wide. At night, they are said to move.
- The Silk Veil Halls – Long corridors draped in white silken veils that shift and flutter, hiding unseen figures. Some veils conceal assassins waiting in silence. Others conceal mouths—gnashing, whispering, and laughing with no visible bodies attached.
- The Chamber of Many Tongues – The heart of The Maw, a grand chamber where Kuchisake-Onna holds court. The walls are lined with shifting mouths—some human, some monstrous—constantly murmuring prayers, curses, and secrets. The floor is slick with something dark, and a throne of polished bone sits at the center.
- The Abyssal Maw – A deep pit lined with teeth within the stronghold, rumored to be alive. Anything thrown inside is never seen again, but sometimes the pit speaks in a voice eerily similar to the ones it has devoured.
Philosophy & Purpose
Kuchisake-Onna’s philosophy revolves around fear, hunger, and truth. She believes that the ultimate truth of existence is consumption—of flesh, of spirit, of sanity. To her, fear is the purest expression of life, and only those who embrace it can understand true power.
Her assassins, The Silken Smiles, are trained in deception, terror, and the art of the kill. They believe that fear is a weapon greater than the blade and that a well-placed whisper can wound deeper than any dagger. The creatures she commands—The Gaping Brides, The Laughing Hounds, and The Whispering Ones—act as both executioners and sentinels, ensuring no one leaves The Maw unchanged.
Some say that those who linger too long in The Maw eventually become part of it—their whispers added to the ever-growing chorus, their mouths appearing in the walls, forever hungering.
Kuchisake-Onna sat upon the floor, her body low to the earth, cradled by the zaisu as though it too were part of her twisted, unnatural form. The room around her was dim, shadows twisting like tendrils of smoke as she commanded her minions with a voice that rattled the air—a voice filled with hunger. She motioned with a crooked, skeletal hand, bidding them bring forth their trophies from the men they had slaughtered on the mountain pass.
With slow, deliberate steps, her followers approached, holding aloft a plain bamboo box. The air thickened with anticipation as the lid was lifted, revealing two tongues—red and slick, still dripping with the warm, fresh blood of their owners. The blood soaked into the edges of the box, staining the wood a dark, ugly crimson.
Kuchisake-Onna’s grotesque mouth—already wide beyond reason—twisted further, as if her very jaw could stretch to encompass all the pain and suffering of the world. Her grin, monstrous and full of malice, widened impossibly, exposing rows of sharp, gleaming teeth that reflected the dim candlelight like jagged knives. Her dark eyes glittered with a fevered joy, wild and ravenous.
She licked her lips, her long, black tongue snaking out in anticipation of the offering. Her hand shot forward, shaking with eager delight, and she took the tongues with a tremor of satisfaction.
In a single, swift motion, her mouth opened even wider—unhinging like some dark, insatiable creature. The tongues disappeared into her throat with a sickening sound, swallowed whole and consumed as though they were nothing more than the most exquisite delicacy. A drop of blood, dark and rich, slid from her chin, staining her skin as she wiped it away with a casual flick.
Her laughter erupted, low and guttural, as if the very act of devouring fed the madness within her. The Silk Maidens, her servants and shadows, joined in—a chorus of cackling voices, wild and manic, like the unhinged laughter of hyenas at the end of a bloody feast. It was the sound of madness, of hunger given voice, a testament to her twisted pleasure in the suffering of others.
Kuchisake-Onna’s hunger was far from sated; it was only deepening. And as the echoes of her laughter bled into the darkened walls of the room, one truth became clear: her thirst for blood could never be quenched. With each kill, her power grew, and the lands of Sakana Cove—and all the eastern reaches of the Runiverse—were teetering on the brink of peril, bound to be consumed by the insatiable dark that she had become.
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