𝑀𝑌 𝑅𝑂𝑀𝐸𝑂 ~ 𝐻𝐼𝑆𝑂𝐼𝐿𝐿𝑈

The Demon

Night passed and day rose, and not a soul was seen to wander the woods at night.

Had the town been taken aback by Hisoka's visit? Had they taken precautions?

Hisoka stumbled over sticks and twigs, empty and awaiting a snack to hold him over...

there...

OVER THERE

a man.

...

The artist from the village.

Fat as he was, he'd make for a good bite.

Hisoka waved in a friendly manner... Rarely would he greet his food...

The artist stood there, a bit frightened by Hisoka's appearance, recalling the past event.

"Uhh. Hello sir" The artist gave a timid greeting.

"Good day!" Hisoka called to the artist as he approached. "Fancy seeing you again," He put an arm around the artist's shoulder in a friendly manner, but looked at him with bloodthirsty eyes. "Go for a little stroll together, shall we?" he asked the artist.

"Yes... maybe..." The artist agreed, driven by fear.

"I must say, sir, your artwork is truly spectacular... It'd be a shame if you were killed so suddenly." A sinister grin spread across Hisoka's sleek face.

The artist began to tremble.

"I think I'd best be off... I uh... I think I might've left the oven on for my clay pots." The artist tried to free himself from Hisoka's grip.

"Oh, but we've only walked a few steps... Surely, your pots can wait." Hisoka's grip around the artist's shoulders tightened. "Why don't we go this way? This uprooted tree seems like quite the place to relax, doesn't it?" In one hand, he took hold of the artist's hands, digging his razor-sharp claws into his flesh. With the other hand, Hisoka silenced the artist, covering his mouth and nose.

"HELP! HELP!" The artist tried to scream.

He was dragged all the way to the uprooted tree, far from any view of the village, and thrown onto the ground. He set free, the artist's mouth, allowing him to speak... It was too late for him now... Even if anyone heard him, he'd be as good as dead anyway.

The artist lay silent. Hisoka set a boot upon the man's abdomen, making him shriek with pain. Using stray vines from the tree, he tied the man's wrists and ankles to a root in the ground.

"Please. I'll give you anything... Money, food... I'll even give you my wife if that's what you want!" The artist pleaded.

"Your wife? Surely you can't be a loyal man if that's what you're pleading with." Hisoka crouched down beside the man. "Maybe she'll miss you..."  Hisoka made a wide and toothy grin, bearing his jagged, razor-sharp teeth. 

"NO! PLEASE! I WON'T TELL ANYONE I SWEAR!!" The artist pleaded, tears welling in his eyes. 

"I know you won't... But I'm hungry." 

The man's face went white with terror. 

"Oh, and one more thing... You were right." Hisoka leaned down to whisper in his ear. 

"I am the Chinoakuma." 

Hisoka dug razor-sharp nails into the man's chest, making him howl in agony. With one swift gesture...

A crimson red liquid spurted from his mouth which gaped open as he screamed, while blood stained the man's clothes as it seeped from the void now left... His heart was gone.