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Pity - Miboshi
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Pity. Pity is the worst of all god-borne emotions. They find it the most useful creation; they use it to select their seven chosen warriors. I know they do. There's no other way to explain the misfits we all are. The gods pitied us, and we became their playtoys in this endless battle of life. Those who had life, at least. Those like the Suzaku warriors, that monk with his smiling mask, the healer, that god accursed child, they all were pitied by their god. As were my companions, the wolf, the twins, the whore, the painted actor. None others were like I am. No others are spirits emblazoned with the mark of a god-warrior.
Yes, it was pity that made my god select me. In life I barely remember myself, yet it is there in my slumber, when I slumber. A boy, a youth with a dear friend, a powerful friend, that was who I was. A young man who followed his prince's footsteps. Everywhere. That was my foolish mistake. When he began to practice black magic, I began to as well. I could have been happily dead in peace, in hell by now. But no. I practiced the dark arts; I summoned demons and strangled strangers with black mist. And my prince and I, we died for it.
And he pitied me. Not my prince. Why, I wonder often? Why did he pity me? And then a voice replied "because you were only a foolish child who allowed himself to become a toy to a maniac." Which he was, my prince. After death, he lived on in spirit, as did I. He retained his powers and found a human body, as did I. He had his one desire and he longed for it. And foolish mortals, they believed his lies. They called him the title he desired. They took him in. They worshipped him. He worshipped him! He who caused my death now, my second and final death. No, not the Byakko. He was too weak to cause the death of me, only one body. No, not Suzaku's child either. My death came through my blunder within his body. It was him. The blonde one. Nakago. Yes. He was the death of me. He condemned me to my funeral pyre, just as he condemned the flutist. Just as he condemned the loyal pet. Just as he condemned his friend and advisor he condemns me now. And he lives on because he has no pity. Pity is death.
In a moment I faltered. In a moment, as I struggled for control of the body of the child, I felt a pang of emotion within a heart I thought had died with my mortal body. I felt pity for this small boy, the child who wished to protect those he loved. In that moment, in a single stroke he felled us both. Pity has killed me a final time.
Just as it will kill the gods. The flames of wrath, the fires of my funeral pyre shall burn them for their pity.