Death Mask Japanese Samurai Tattoo の小説・ストーリー

Shame on me in case. @Death Wish

The samurai followed him. "I don't like this," said Souma. "This isn't fair." "I know," said Daisuke, "there is nothing that we can do. This is their fight." "Still, I don't like this." The captain stopped. The samurai lifted his sword high in the air. The captain lunged and swiftly slashed his exposed thigh and groin from below with the very tip of his sword. The samurai was silent. Falling to his side, he dropped his sword and clutched his thigh. Blood poured through his fingers in a bright stream over his decorated suneate.

Instead, the system gave me a new notification. 'This body will die in three days, so you may return to your original world then.'

That night, Henry finally let go of all restraint. The room lay in shadow, and he pressed me against the floor-to-ceiling window, the lights of Riverton flickering like stars beyond the glass. “Claire…” “Yes?” “I want to get another tattoo.” “Where?” He gripped my hand and pressed it to his lower back, mirroring the spot that corresponded to mine. There, with each of his breaths, a faint outline of a feral totem emerged. “I want to tattoo your image. I want to carve you into my bones forever.”

"Father Silas, you promised! You said there was a ritual to separate us!" "The ritual required you to stay pure, Julian!" Silas shouted, his face twisting into a mask of righteous fury. "You succumbed to the flesh. You opened the gate by choice. Now, I must close it with blood." Silas swung the mace. A wave of pure, white energy slammed into us. It didn't hurt the shadow; it bypassed the demon entirely and hit my soul. I felt my spirit being ripped away from my body, the connection to my Tenth Life fraying like a burnt rope. It was a pain beyond anything I had felt in my nine previous deaths. This wasn't the death of the body; it was the erasure of the self.

I said as his eyes widened and I stuck the knife in his neck a few times as his blood spurted over the tiled floor. “Dispareo,” I said as his body started to evaporate and disappeared back to the realms of the dead. I gritted my teeth as my skin started to burn and his mark appeared on my arm in a tattoo like emblem. None of the marks on my arms were actual tattoos, they were the marks of the souls I’d taken, people I’ve killed and sent back. It only burned for about fifteen seconds as the mark started to heal and formed part of the other marks creating the sleeve effect on both my arms.

It was as if everything had passed and I was suddenly hit with silence, one that was so deafening that it clawed at my soul… Then with it came darkness. The last thing I remembered before I succumbed into the darkness was the tattoo they all had on their arm and the logo on their flag. It was one of a flying eagle, the signature tattoo of people of the Starlight Pack. I knew this because I had a classmate from there. I knew I was young, and at the moment, powerless but then, I was also certain that I would avenge the death of my parents. It may be the last thing I did before I drew my last breath, and maybe it would take a while but I would. I wouldn’t spare their lives,

“That tattoo on your neck was the same as hers. The exact same, no difference. I would remember that tattoo even if I was dead.” I stared, still not knowing what else to say. I had never felt strongly about anything as I’d felt about this. But where was the evidence to prove I might have not been responsible for Zara’s death? And the same tattoo? No one had my tattoo. No one. It was the inking of me as an angel dressed in black and wielding a gun and a knife, and next to it was a star. The word ‘death’ was inked on one of the wings while black stars were inked dripping like tears from the other wing.

“You just remorselessly killed your companion, guy named Ox. Or should I say, a ringer assassin called the Joker of the Cards of Reapers?” Ox laughed lightly, bandages on his left hand suddenly fall when Aoi cut it with a sharp knife. On the back of his palm, a tattoo of a skeleton in a pitch-black cloak was holding a grayish scythe. On the side of the box, vertically written in a scary font the word “J-O-K-E-R.” A tattoo of the Card of Reapers indicating he was in a high-rank. “What's your business with me?” Aoi Akuma asked voice in a threat.

"Affirmative." A man in dark blue wash jeans, a brown leather jacket, a white t-shirts and black boots, walked up to the car and yanked the door open to see a woman hanging upsidedown, unconscious. His brown hair was cut short, showing of the red rose tattoos on the side of his neck. Though what really caught the eyes of everyone else that day was the death symbol tattooed on the back of his head. A skull and two bones forming a cross with fire burning through them.