Yokai Fight (Yandere!Reverse Harem!Yokai x GN!Reader)

1 - Fight Song

Demon. Oni.

"What have we got here, fellas?" the demon holding you asks, lifting you from the ground just another inch. Your toes barely scrape the ground, and you can feel your wet tears slipping in between his fingers. You gasp, croaking out a sound that makes him and the others laugh.

Not a single person in the crowd stops to help you. They flow away from the ogres like the red sea. Red, red, red. Everything is red. The eyes that peek through the mask are rimmed red. The lines your nails drag in his arm are red. You can't breathe, and the darkness that crowds your declining vision is red too.

Your tears are red.

"Newly deceased, it seems! Ey, why don't we use this one as bait in our next match?" another chimes in, his voice filled with a burst of mocking laughter. You can't think past your need to breathe, striking out desperately at whoever you can reach. Your weak limbs flail around but they fail to make any impact. They simply dart around you with that same laughter, treating your struggle as a game.

The one holding you aloft tilts his head.

"I think that's the best idea an idiot like you's ever had," he answers, and you can feel your impending doom in his voice. Your death. Your end. Wherever you are, whatever is going on, you'll never get to find out.

Your eyes flutter closed, a sob tearing from what's left of your throat.

"Let's get going, boys. Don't want to miss our cue, after all!" he announces to the gang, tossing you into the arms of another of the demons. You wheeze at the first bit of air you get, choking on the next, barely able to lift your arms to bat against the oni who throws you over his shoulder with a cackle. You land hard, your stomach digging into sharp bone.

With a shout, they take off back into the crowd. You struggle and writhe, but all it gets you is more bruises and open cuts to your arms and legs. Blood drips from your mouth, your eyes, your everything. Once again, your eyelids start to close, and you feel your consciousness slipping away from you.

"...ake! Stay awake! If you fall asleep now, you won't ever wake up again!" the voice returns, desperate, begging, pleading.

You can't. You want to. You try to. But everything is foggy. Everything is spinning, everything is drawing you further under. Every cut, every bruise, the rasping sound in your chest. It's all like a rope tight around your heart, tugging, tugging, tugging.

Though you don't know how far you travel, you do know that when they drop you down on the ground, the scenery is completely different. Your body is tossed onto a harsh surface, the skin on your face grating open. In the centre of a flat, cement space, a boxing ring surrounds the area. Behind the ropes lining the ring is a feral crowd, cheering and sneering down at you. The crowd extends further and further, crawling up walls into a massive, booming stadium. You turn on your side, wincing as you hit your bloodied, bruised body.

A stage. A grand stage looms over you. Traditional Japanese architecture, with imperial design. Heavy, satin-red curtains hang from the ceiling, glowing red lanterns decorate the tiled roof, with snarling monsters carved into the stone pillars holding up said roof. And at the centre of the stage, a man stands.

His hands raised to the heavens, red robes flowing like water in the wind.

Or maybe the better simile is blood.

"Welcome to the seven-hundred-and-sixtieth round of our millennial Kami Kyoso!" his voice roars, loud and echoing. You flinch at the sound, burying your hands in your hair again. The crowd riots at his voice, and you can practically feel the bloodlust in the air.